1Corinthians 1:18-31
I have been thinking about parts of this passage for about 6 months. Sometimes I am captured by the idea that the message of the cross is foolishness to the dying. We are all dying, really. It would seem Paul is drawing a line in the sand for what is to come, bedrock to either build upon or reject, nothing in between, no grey area. The message of the cross is either foolishness or the power of God. Life or death.
Really very simple and yet terribly inconvenient if one wants to saunter off back into a religious haze. So very few know what to do with the message of the cross so we try and box it in or parse it down into understandable chunks but by doing that we diminish it. Many just don't know what to do with it so it is deemed foolishness and ignored.
It was July 17th, a Sunday, and I found myself after church in the return line at our local Lowe's store returning a sliding screen door that was too small for our back slider. I was still dressed in my clothes from church, not a suit and tie but certainly not what one usually wears when returning something at a home improvement store. A man stepped into line behind me and started to chat. I mentioned I'd just come from church, sort of like casting out a line to see what would happen, where might this little conversation go. He explained he and his wife usually attend a church in the next town to the south of the suburb we were in. Then he said exactly how the world ignores the message of the cross: "You know what I think, if you are good enough person you will make it".
There it is, complete and utter dismissal of the message replaced by the flimsy hope of pulling oneself up by the bootstraps. Frankly, if I look down metaphorically at my own boots, I don't have bootstraps and I am hopelessly stuck in the muck. It is very easy to see the folly of this line of thought, this reduction of the message of the cross to meaninglessness. We who know our Bibles can easily point out the error of this.
There is something else though that eats at me a bit when I ponder this passage. Some time ago I heard a friend of mine offer a devotion on the subject of holiness, our personal holiness. He did what we often do when discussing this, he spoke of the things that would show others our holiness, the list that our culture of the moment would dictate.
This is our attempt to understand what often can't be understood, the message of the cross for those who believe in it. We are called to be holy but what does that really look like? It is so much easier to construct a list and check it off from time to time to assure ourselves of our own personal holiness. Problem is, we are trying to clean ourselves off with filthy rags, just smearing ourselves into a point of denial. It's a religious form of trying to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps.
The passage ends with this, "It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption. Therefore, as it is written: 'Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord.' ” Part of the message of the cross is captured here, Christ has become for us our righteousness and holiness. I've come to reject the notion of the "list" for holiness. I look to the fruit of the Spirit: Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, Self Control. Like so much of what Jesus offers, relationship with Him is the key here, not a list to check off from time to time. The end result may look similar to the list but there is so much more depth to allowing the Spirit to grow His fruit, my heart yielding to the gentle yoke of Jesus.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Christmas Eve
It's Christmas Eve. I am a bit overloaded with Hallmark-Christmas-movie-sentiment though. I am tired of hearing that family is what this time of the year is all about. I've watched more than my share of Christmas themed shows this season and have heard it over and over again. Don't get me wrong, I am looking forward to the family that will gather at my home tomorrow. It is a joy to get together but I have grown weary of so much focus on that aspect of Christmas at the expense of "the" event that is overlooked in a culture that is too politically correct to call this season what it is, a celebration of the birth of Jesus.
As this day has drawn closer I've spent some time reflecting on the accounts we have of His birth. We gravitate to Matthew and Luke's accounts with the poignant details of the birth in a barn attended to by only Joseph and Mary. Lowly shepherds are the only ones who receive an announcement and they heed the request to find the baby laying in a manger in swaddling clothes. How appropriate that these men of low class status are the ones angelically confronted by the birth, after all, He came for the outcast. He came as a shepherd for lost sheep. I have been captured once again by the simplicity, joy and mystery of Incarnate God, Emmanuel. The whole village of Bethlehem missed it, I will not. What must have Joseph and Mary thought when those shepherds showed up telling their story of angels declaring the birth. I will not miss this.
I've wandered around though in John's account. He didn't write much of the detail of those days but simply mentions, "The Word became flesh". I've placed this simple phrase in the midst of Matthew and Luke's account. The very Word made flesh is stunning if you think about it. God comes not as a book or a set of principles to study, to know, to practice but as a baby, to grow to be a man, to be known in relationship. He is not to be known primarily as a theological experiment to be tested but as a man to be known.
I am often reminded of some of His last words, "Lo, I am with you always", and then He left. Certainly He meant His presence to mean something other than what we normally think. Access to His presence, knowing Him, is an exercise of faith, an acknowledgement that we are not highly evolved animals but we are created to be spiritual beings as well as fleshly beings. Jesus coming to be fully man and fully God, the mystery of Incarnation, tells me I will never be fully human without exercising the faith to unlock the mystery of knowing this man who said He would never leave me, this man who started life as a human being in a manger, born in a barn, visited by lowly shepherds.
As this day has drawn closer I've spent some time reflecting on the accounts we have of His birth. We gravitate to Matthew and Luke's accounts with the poignant details of the birth in a barn attended to by only Joseph and Mary. Lowly shepherds are the only ones who receive an announcement and they heed the request to find the baby laying in a manger in swaddling clothes. How appropriate that these men of low class status are the ones angelically confronted by the birth, after all, He came for the outcast. He came as a shepherd for lost sheep. I have been captured once again by the simplicity, joy and mystery of Incarnate God, Emmanuel. The whole village of Bethlehem missed it, I will not. What must have Joseph and Mary thought when those shepherds showed up telling their story of angels declaring the birth. I will not miss this.
I've wandered around though in John's account. He didn't write much of the detail of those days but simply mentions, "The Word became flesh". I've placed this simple phrase in the midst of Matthew and Luke's account. The very Word made flesh is stunning if you think about it. God comes not as a book or a set of principles to study, to know, to practice but as a baby, to grow to be a man, to be known in relationship. He is not to be known primarily as a theological experiment to be tested but as a man to be known.
I am often reminded of some of His last words, "Lo, I am with you always", and then He left. Certainly He meant His presence to mean something other than what we normally think. Access to His presence, knowing Him, is an exercise of faith, an acknowledgement that we are not highly evolved animals but we are created to be spiritual beings as well as fleshly beings. Jesus coming to be fully man and fully God, the mystery of Incarnation, tells me I will never be fully human without exercising the faith to unlock the mystery of knowing this man who said He would never leave me, this man who started life as a human being in a manger, born in a barn, visited by lowly shepherds.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Feast Re-Visited
There are moments I hear, we hear the whispered question, "Who do you think you are"? It is a hard question tinged with accusation, a hard question meant to undercut the path Abba may be leading us on. It may sound like a whisper out of our own consciousness but it is not. If we are not careful we will buy into the deprecation and dismissal lurking about answering with memories of our own personal failures, our times of sinful willfulness.
That is not the holy answer the question requires. A question worth posing in response is "Who am I, in Christ?" Chosen, a royal priest, a son of the most High, seated with Christ at the right and of God, called to do holy work; these are responses to remember, to recite, to know. Answers that satisfy.
The feast that day satisfied. Those that partook had their fill; it was no little snack to ward off slightly the hunger pangs that crowd felt. Their hunger that day drove them to eat their fill, an honest hunger that could not be ignored. Are you hungry enough to partake your fill of Jesus? He said to some of those folk the next day that they were to eat His flesh, drink His blood. This was a hard teaching that drove many away who had been following after Him. They couldn't get past the shocking metaphor, but we can, we need to if we are honest about our own hunger.
He asked His twelve who He'd sent into a storm if they would also leave Him. Peter voiced their response, a response of an honest hunger,"Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God. So I ask, are you hungry? When the question arises, "Who do you think you are?", how will you answer?
That is not the holy answer the question requires. A question worth posing in response is "Who am I, in Christ?" Chosen, a royal priest, a son of the most High, seated with Christ at the right and of God, called to do holy work; these are responses to remember, to recite, to know. Answers that satisfy.
The feast that day satisfied. Those that partook had their fill; it was no little snack to ward off slightly the hunger pangs that crowd felt. Their hunger that day drove them to eat their fill, an honest hunger that could not be ignored. Are you hungry enough to partake your fill of Jesus? He said to some of those folk the next day that they were to eat His flesh, drink His blood. This was a hard teaching that drove many away who had been following after Him. They couldn't get past the shocking metaphor, but we can, we need to if we are honest about our own hunger.
He asked His twelve who He'd sent into a storm if they would also leave Him. Peter voiced their response, a response of an honest hunger,"Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God. So I ask, are you hungry? When the question arises, "Who do you think you are?", how will you answer?
Monday, October 31, 2011
Feast
I recently spent a bit of time looking into the feast for 5000 men as found in the four gospels. It reminded me of a few years back, something I'd begun to write while looking at the account in John.
Here is what I've written:
Imagine that you are an invited guest for a dinner. You enter the host's home, a comfortable one but not ostentatious. There are about 30 people, young and old milling about in conversation. Finally the host invites everyone to come into the family room/kitchen.... a great room designed for easy living. There is an island in the kitchen and there is the "spread" of food. A small roast beef has been sliced into perhaps 10 or 12 slices, a bowl of mashed potatoes matching in size to the roast, a gravy boat with rich brown gravy accompanies the potatoes, a bowl of green beans with a pat of butter melting over the beans and a basket with perhaps a half dozen dinner rolls peek out from under a red cloth; enough for a family of four or five.
One glance at everyone else's eyes confirms what you are thinking; this guy did not plan well, there is not enough food and everyone is hungry. The host bows his head and begins to pray but all you can think of is how do you gracefully get out of this situation, how do you help maintain this man's dignity by acting like you really aren't hungry. You think of the Taco Bell you passed six miles back and hope the drive-thru window stays open late. Suddenly your thoughts are interrupted by the end of the host's prayer, "....and thank you Heavenly Father for your bounteous gift of food that we are about to partake of. Amen". And then he adds, "Dig in everyone, take all you want." You want to laugh out loud because to your eyes a bite or two of meat, tablespoon of potatoes, five green beans, a meager drizzle of gravy and a shared roll with five other guests is all each will receive this night and you can only hear your hunger.
Suddenly a young boy of 8 or 10 says, "Well, what are we waiting for, I'm hungry". He takes a plate, forks three slices of meat onto his plate, adds two very large dollops of potatoes, a heaping pile of green beans (you're thinking here "What boy eats green beans without cajoling by a dutiful mother), pours gravy over everything and adds an entire roll atop the plate. His innocent hunger has driven him to not understand he must mentally divide out what is before him by the number of diners and take only that portion. All eyes watch the boy carefully find a place at a nearby table, generously butter the roll and scoop a big bite of gravied mashed potatoes into his mouth.
"What do we do now" you think as your eyes turn back to the woeful spread that has been depleted ungraciously by the boy. You decide to follow his lead but will set a more moderate tone. Just as you pick up your plate with the intent of slicing off a meager bite of beef your eyes are opened and suddenly there is more than you thought at the buffet. Had your eyes deceived you at first look of the buffet? How could there possibly be more food when a moment before there was so little. You look around and see that you are the only one who sees this. For some reason you are seeing something others can't see. You follow the boy’s faithful lead and fill your plate with a tiny giggle playing on the corner of your mind. There really is more at this feast than first believed. You just needed to enter into the meal to see it.
I think it was a little bit like that for those folks that day. There was no reason for them to believe there would be enough food for all but they took what they wanted nonetheless, they entered in with the eyes of faith they needed because they were driven by hunger. Unfortunately when the hunger was abated and they were back in Capernaum, they no longer could hear or see the feast that was before them in the person of Jesus.
Here is what I've written:
Imagine that you are an invited guest for a dinner. You enter the host's home, a comfortable one but not ostentatious. There are about 30 people, young and old milling about in conversation. Finally the host invites everyone to come into the family room/kitchen.... a great room designed for easy living. There is an island in the kitchen and there is the "spread" of food. A small roast beef has been sliced into perhaps 10 or 12 slices, a bowl of mashed potatoes matching in size to the roast, a gravy boat with rich brown gravy accompanies the potatoes, a bowl of green beans with a pat of butter melting over the beans and a basket with perhaps a half dozen dinner rolls peek out from under a red cloth; enough for a family of four or five.
One glance at everyone else's eyes confirms what you are thinking; this guy did not plan well, there is not enough food and everyone is hungry. The host bows his head and begins to pray but all you can think of is how do you gracefully get out of this situation, how do you help maintain this man's dignity by acting like you really aren't hungry. You think of the Taco Bell you passed six miles back and hope the drive-thru window stays open late. Suddenly your thoughts are interrupted by the end of the host's prayer, "....and thank you Heavenly Father for your bounteous gift of food that we are about to partake of. Amen". And then he adds, "Dig in everyone, take all you want." You want to laugh out loud because to your eyes a bite or two of meat, tablespoon of potatoes, five green beans, a meager drizzle of gravy and a shared roll with five other guests is all each will receive this night and you can only hear your hunger.
Suddenly a young boy of 8 or 10 says, "Well, what are we waiting for, I'm hungry". He takes a plate, forks three slices of meat onto his plate, adds two very large dollops of potatoes, a heaping pile of green beans (you're thinking here "What boy eats green beans without cajoling by a dutiful mother), pours gravy over everything and adds an entire roll atop the plate. His innocent hunger has driven him to not understand he must mentally divide out what is before him by the number of diners and take only that portion. All eyes watch the boy carefully find a place at a nearby table, generously butter the roll and scoop a big bite of gravied mashed potatoes into his mouth.
"What do we do now" you think as your eyes turn back to the woeful spread that has been depleted ungraciously by the boy. You decide to follow his lead but will set a more moderate tone. Just as you pick up your plate with the intent of slicing off a meager bite of beef your eyes are opened and suddenly there is more than you thought at the buffet. Had your eyes deceived you at first look of the buffet? How could there possibly be more food when a moment before there was so little. You look around and see that you are the only one who sees this. For some reason you are seeing something others can't see. You follow the boy’s faithful lead and fill your plate with a tiny giggle playing on the corner of your mind. There really is more at this feast than first believed. You just needed to enter into the meal to see it.
I think it was a little bit like that for those folks that day. There was no reason for them to believe there would be enough food for all but they took what they wanted nonetheless, they entered in with the eyes of faith they needed because they were driven by hunger. Unfortunately when the hunger was abated and they were back in Capernaum, they no longer could hear or see the feast that was before them in the person of Jesus.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Humility
I recently heard some words regarding humility that have stirred up some thoughts. The idea expressed was we needed to be less to become more. It was in the context of biblical leadership from I Peter 5. While I believe true servanthood that follows the Jesus way involves "the first shall be last and the last shall be first", I believe this reflects more a model of Christ-like leadership rather than true humility. I strongly believe that leadership, at the heart, is servanthood.
Humility is not about the spotlight, or the receiving of praise. I think it is fairly obvious we can be doing the most noble, worthy action for the Kingdom but if our underlying goal is to appear righteous, to appear "less", then we've missed the mark. I am a bit concerned with the phrase because the stated goal is to become more by becoming less. It seems a bit like a type of hampster wheel that leads to nowhere. Less is more, less is more, less is more. It begins to sound like a squeak in the hampster wheel when the hampster if furiously trying to get somewhere.
I am more comfortable with a quote I came across several years ago from Phillips Brooks that describes humility: "The true way to be humble is not to stoop until you are smaller than yourself but to stand at your real height against some higher nature that will show what the real smallness of your greatness is."
I like this because it allows us to stand fully upright in all we've been created to be. Jesus said early on in Matthew 5 "You are light..... You are salt..." For us to effectively advance His Kingdom we need to operate fully as He says we are. To do less robs Him of His glory, the glory of His creation and incarnation in us.
I also like the quote because of the direct implication of standing fully against God'd fullness. By doing this we begin to see how true our smallness is and an un-manufactured humility will arise as we keep that picture in mind.
I have this quote printed underneath a meaningful picture hanging in my office at work. It is a photograph of three individuals, mere specs walking up a field with the backdrop of a huge Colorado ridge rising behind them. Those three men, one of which was me, could not walk effectively if they were trying to be small. They simply are small against the glory of God-spoken creation. No false humility is needed when one stands fully as created by God, against God Himself.
Humility is not about the spotlight, or the receiving of praise. I think it is fairly obvious we can be doing the most noble, worthy action for the Kingdom but if our underlying goal is to appear righteous, to appear "less", then we've missed the mark. I am a bit concerned with the phrase because the stated goal is to become more by becoming less. It seems a bit like a type of hampster wheel that leads to nowhere. Less is more, less is more, less is more. It begins to sound like a squeak in the hampster wheel when the hampster if furiously trying to get somewhere.
I am more comfortable with a quote I came across several years ago from Phillips Brooks that describes humility: "The true way to be humble is not to stoop until you are smaller than yourself but to stand at your real height against some higher nature that will show what the real smallness of your greatness is."
I like this because it allows us to stand fully upright in all we've been created to be. Jesus said early on in Matthew 5 "You are light..... You are salt..." For us to effectively advance His Kingdom we need to operate fully as He says we are. To do less robs Him of His glory, the glory of His creation and incarnation in us.
I also like the quote because of the direct implication of standing fully against God'd fullness. By doing this we begin to see how true our smallness is and an un-manufactured humility will arise as we keep that picture in mind.
I have this quote printed underneath a meaningful picture hanging in my office at work. It is a photograph of three individuals, mere specs walking up a field with the backdrop of a huge Colorado ridge rising behind them. Those three men, one of which was me, could not walk effectively if they were trying to be small. They simply are small against the glory of God-spoken creation. No false humility is needed when one stands fully as created by God, against God Himself.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Narrow
I've not given up my slow meander in I Corinthians, in fact, I've written three times my thoughts out of the last section of the first chapter. I just haven't yet posted them here. My intent was to do this tonight but something has disrupted me. It began yesterday in church, continued this morning during my "park" time as I journaled and than culminated tonight as I was washing the holybluemazdapickup with the desire to post what I wrote this morning here.
The "narrow way" talk by my Pastor yesterday has opened up a vista for me that I can hardly fathom. My thoughts here are not what he spoke about. I don't want to mislead any here. I simply began to see some of what was spoken of yesterday with a new perspective. Yes, if we view the choice Jesus describes between the highway of destruction and the narrow way of following Him through the only eyes we have at the beginning, the eyes of our flesh, it appears as He says. The apparent choice to deny our flesh, saying "No" at times, is hard and one needs to consider this choice carefully in the initial steps upon the narrow way. There will also be many times upon the journey one must once again consider the choices presented, times where the narrow way seems more difficult than expected, our flesh will cry out in rebellion and our enemy will entice with seducements that can seem too overwhelming to ignore. There will also be times one makes detours off the narrow way eventually hitting the myriad of dead-ends the highway only offers. At those times Jesus' words, "Lo I am with you always" will arise and one may repent of poor decisions made. Our elder brother will be there bidding us lovingly back to the true journey of our hearts in Him.
At some point in the journey one may come to realize how wide the "narrow" way is for our hearts, who we truly are. We will see how many wide, spacious places there are along the way in which we thrive; we can live in a way never offered in the bondage that is the highway of destruction. I think it is at these points we see the paradox in Jesus' words describing the two paths, the twinkle in His eye when we understand that things are not as they initially appeared to be. When viewed through the eyes and needs of our heart awakened by the Holy Spirit at our second birth, we see it is not a narrow way at all. There is a freedom in His grace for living the life He offers. A life marked by what the world really is hungry for; joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control. Those on the highway, enslaved in it's true narrowness of bondage, need to see Jesus in us who follow Him. His offer was LIFE. Do we represent His life well, in a manner that invites others to His life?
I've become weary of those who have grown sour, who have not found Jesus' grace along the way, but only see the road as a set of rules and regulations to attempt to keep. Often I've found pride in those who think they have succeeded in seeing and living out of narrowness without finding the wideness in His grace, the easy yoke He spoke of. Often they see Abba Father only as a line judge ready to whack us when we stray. Yes, correction is needed and I've experienced this at times, but I do believe we do Him a grave disservice if we only see Him standing by with a 2"X4" ready to whack us whenever we stray. This is not the Father I've come to know on the narrow way that is not.
It is sad to see some so encumbered by their own attempts at developing and maintaining their own sense of personal holiness. It is not ours we are clothed with but Jesus'; His redemption, His wisdom, His holiness offered freely by a loving God-head who states emphatically that we are in Him, He is in us. It is in that perspective we find the wideness of the "narrow" way.
Jesus, may I lean on You at those times when the narrowness presses in, when I can only move forward by keeping my eyes upon You. May I see the wideness You have for my heart as I traverse this path. May I remember well the bondage and dead-ends offered by the highway when I am tempted. Amen.
The "narrow way" talk by my Pastor yesterday has opened up a vista for me that I can hardly fathom. My thoughts here are not what he spoke about. I don't want to mislead any here. I simply began to see some of what was spoken of yesterday with a new perspective. Yes, if we view the choice Jesus describes between the highway of destruction and the narrow way of following Him through the only eyes we have at the beginning, the eyes of our flesh, it appears as He says. The apparent choice to deny our flesh, saying "No" at times, is hard and one needs to consider this choice carefully in the initial steps upon the narrow way. There will also be many times upon the journey one must once again consider the choices presented, times where the narrow way seems more difficult than expected, our flesh will cry out in rebellion and our enemy will entice with seducements that can seem too overwhelming to ignore. There will also be times one makes detours off the narrow way eventually hitting the myriad of dead-ends the highway only offers. At those times Jesus' words, "Lo I am with you always" will arise and one may repent of poor decisions made. Our elder brother will be there bidding us lovingly back to the true journey of our hearts in Him.
At some point in the journey one may come to realize how wide the "narrow" way is for our hearts, who we truly are. We will see how many wide, spacious places there are along the way in which we thrive; we can live in a way never offered in the bondage that is the highway of destruction. I think it is at these points we see the paradox in Jesus' words describing the two paths, the twinkle in His eye when we understand that things are not as they initially appeared to be. When viewed through the eyes and needs of our heart awakened by the Holy Spirit at our second birth, we see it is not a narrow way at all. There is a freedom in His grace for living the life He offers. A life marked by what the world really is hungry for; joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self control. Those on the highway, enslaved in it's true narrowness of bondage, need to see Jesus in us who follow Him. His offer was LIFE. Do we represent His life well, in a manner that invites others to His life?
I've become weary of those who have grown sour, who have not found Jesus' grace along the way, but only see the road as a set of rules and regulations to attempt to keep. Often I've found pride in those who think they have succeeded in seeing and living out of narrowness without finding the wideness in His grace, the easy yoke He spoke of. Often they see Abba Father only as a line judge ready to whack us when we stray. Yes, correction is needed and I've experienced this at times, but I do believe we do Him a grave disservice if we only see Him standing by with a 2"X4" ready to whack us whenever we stray. This is not the Father I've come to know on the narrow way that is not.
It is sad to see some so encumbered by their own attempts at developing and maintaining their own sense of personal holiness. It is not ours we are clothed with but Jesus'; His redemption, His wisdom, His holiness offered freely by a loving God-head who states emphatically that we are in Him, He is in us. It is in that perspective we find the wideness of the "narrow" way.
Jesus, may I lean on You at those times when the narrowness presses in, when I can only move forward by keeping my eyes upon You. May I see the wideness You have for my heart as I traverse this path. May I remember well the bondage and dead-ends offered by the highway when I am tempted. Amen.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Laughter
Last Saturday I picked up a book at the library, PONTOON by Garrison Keillor. I didn't know why I was drawn to it. I've read a few of his other books and always enjoyed his gift of storytelling. It is one of his Lake Wobegon tales. Slow moving and peopled with quirkiness from that mythical town.
I lit a cigar - about a two hour one - and decided to finish the tale. It had moved slowly, as his stories often do, meandering through people's ordinary lives but it wound down to a hysterical conclusion, an ending I won't attempt to recapture. I laughed as I've not laughed in a very long time; side splitting, tears running down my face laughter.
The laughter cleared the pipes out leaving me at a point of peace. I closed the book, glanced up and saw the full moon reflected in a window on the backside of our home. I got up to watch it complete its rise above our virginia-creeper clothed garden shed.
Bathed in the moonlight, I suddenly knew what a marvelous gift laughter is from Abba's hand. A taste of our God-imageness; something that offers healing for our seemingly endless brokenness.
I lit a cigar - about a two hour one - and decided to finish the tale. It had moved slowly, as his stories often do, meandering through people's ordinary lives but it wound down to a hysterical conclusion, an ending I won't attempt to recapture. I laughed as I've not laughed in a very long time; side splitting, tears running down my face laughter.
The laughter cleared the pipes out leaving me at a point of peace. I closed the book, glanced up and saw the full moon reflected in a window on the backside of our home. I got up to watch it complete its rise above our virginia-creeper clothed garden shed.
Bathed in the moonlight, I suddenly knew what a marvelous gift laughter is from Abba's hand. A taste of our God-imageness; something that offers healing for our seemingly endless brokenness.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Corinth #3
WARNING I am going to quote someone here verbatim using a word some might not like, I just thought I'd give you a "heads-up" in case you need it.
Yesterday there was an archery tournament taking place in the park at the archery range some distance across from me. Of course at 5:40am when I arrived perhaps there were only a couple of people there overlooking and keeping guard over the grounds but it was exciting to see the line of official targets, the international flags, portable pavilions and tents all colorfully fluttering in the breeze. Then, as the participants and spectators began to gather, I could feel the anticipation roll in along with each car. It was a nice change to the normally sedate scene I view most mornings. It was a temporary community that gathered.
Today all was back to normal except for the line-up of brown plastic porta-potties; I am sure by the end of today they will also be gone. It was a bit sad. There was something in the air yesterday as the competitive community gathered, a lightness and hope.
Community, in whatever guise, offers an intangible dimension to life. We are social creations bent on establishing community. Whether its a gathering of staid, pious Episcopalians or a raucous, profane and occasionally violent group of Hell's Angels, it is, I believe, the same thing - a group where one belongs with a sense of "fit", a vantage point or boundary that declares "I am in" and conversely "You are not". Even in the park I see fragments of community among the homeless who either camp in the green underbrush or simply pass through.
Several months ago three homeless men gathered around an adjacent picnic table to the one I occupied. It was during the many weeks that the north side of this American-River-straddling park was flooded. Their options of a picnic table were limited, otherwise I doubt they would have gathered so close to me. Their proximity gave me the opportunity to overhear a bit of the conversation between them. At one point one said, "Here, I'm going to put the lighter in the middle of the table so any of us can use it without having to ask for it and all that shit".
The words and the action of giving up control of something precious has stuck with me for several months. I keep wondering if we do the same with Jesus, easily give up control of this precious gift of Light and Life or if we rather try to control by defining theological positions; positions others must hold for us to know if they are "in" or "out". In reading the early chapters of I Corinthians I believe Paul is touching on this in addressing divisions in that community of believers. "My brothers and sisters, some from Chloe’s household have informed me that there are quarrels among you. What I mean is this: One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another, “I follow Cephas”; still another, “I follow Christ.”" (I Cor. 1:11-12). This leads me to the sad commentary that we have not strayed far from divisive attitudes, have not strayed far from drawing theological lines in the sand in our attempt to control.
Paul continued this theme in I Cor. 3: 2-4, "I gave you milk, not solid food, for you were not yet ready for it. Indeed, you are still not ready. You are still worldly. For since there is jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not worldly? Are you not acting like mere humans? For when one says, “I follow Paul,” and another, “I follow Apollos,” are you not mere human beings?". It would seem from what he says here that this sort of attitude, "I am of _______, and you are of _______" (you fill in the blanks with your particular persons) is more a sign of immaturity than anything else. The outcome of the theological drawing of lines in the sand all too often becomes a sad and needless division between Christ followers.
I am not saying there shouldn't be clear distinctions. These should center around who Jesus is; incarnate God, the only begotten Son, born of a virgin, died a sacrificial death to reconcile the whole world to God, defeated death by His death and resurrection, ascended in glorious triumph over the prince of darkness and will one day (unknown to all - even Himself) return to rule.
After these foundational truths I'm finding a grace and latitude as I walk and converse with others who hold and practice our mutual faith in Him differently than I do. I've come to a deep, deep trust in the Spirit who moves amongst us to lead me and others into all truth. That is not to say we won't have disagreement, but I would hope that we could conduct ourselves in the midst of those times in a manner that does not diminish or dismiss or exclude; the attitude of "I am of Apollos, I am of Peter, I am of Paul" that so often divides.
I no longer believe I have to control the Light and LIfe offered by Jesus. The community built on grace, a community of colorful flags and tents and pavilions fluttering in the breeze of the Spirit, is not about control.
Yesterday there was an archery tournament taking place in the park at the archery range some distance across from me. Of course at 5:40am when I arrived perhaps there were only a couple of people there overlooking and keeping guard over the grounds but it was exciting to see the line of official targets, the international flags, portable pavilions and tents all colorfully fluttering in the breeze. Then, as the participants and spectators began to gather, I could feel the anticipation roll in along with each car. It was a nice change to the normally sedate scene I view most mornings. It was a temporary community that gathered.
Today all was back to normal except for the line-up of brown plastic porta-potties; I am sure by the end of today they will also be gone. It was a bit sad. There was something in the air yesterday as the competitive community gathered, a lightness and hope.
Community, in whatever guise, offers an intangible dimension to life. We are social creations bent on establishing community. Whether its a gathering of staid, pious Episcopalians or a raucous, profane and occasionally violent group of Hell's Angels, it is, I believe, the same thing - a group where one belongs with a sense of "fit", a vantage point or boundary that declares "I am in" and conversely "You are not". Even in the park I see fragments of community among the homeless who either camp in the green underbrush or simply pass through.
Several months ago three homeless men gathered around an adjacent picnic table to the one I occupied. It was during the many weeks that the north side of this American-River-straddling park was flooded. Their options of a picnic table were limited, otherwise I doubt they would have gathered so close to me. Their proximity gave me the opportunity to overhear a bit of the conversation between them. At one point one said, "Here, I'm going to put the lighter in the middle of the table so any of us can use it without having to ask for it and all that shit".
The words and the action of giving up control of something precious has stuck with me for several months. I keep wondering if we do the same with Jesus, easily give up control of this precious gift of Light and Life or if we rather try to control by defining theological positions; positions others must hold for us to know if they are "in" or "out". In reading the early chapters of I Corinthians I believe Paul is touching on this in addressing divisions in that community of believers. "My brothers and sisters, some from Chloe’s household have informed me that there are quarrels among you. What I mean is this: One of you says, “I follow Paul”; another, “I follow Apollos”; another, “I follow Cephas”; still another, “I follow Christ.”" (I Cor. 1:11-12). This leads me to the sad commentary that we have not strayed far from divisive attitudes, have not strayed far from drawing theological lines in the sand in our attempt to control.
Paul continued this theme in I Cor. 3: 2-4, "I gave you milk, not solid food, for you were not yet ready for it. Indeed, you are still not ready. You are still worldly. For since there is jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not worldly? Are you not acting like mere humans? For when one says, “I follow Paul,” and another, “I follow Apollos,” are you not mere human beings?". It would seem from what he says here that this sort of attitude, "I am of _______, and you are of _______" (you fill in the blanks with your particular persons) is more a sign of immaturity than anything else. The outcome of the theological drawing of lines in the sand all too often becomes a sad and needless division between Christ followers.
I am not saying there shouldn't be clear distinctions. These should center around who Jesus is; incarnate God, the only begotten Son, born of a virgin, died a sacrificial death to reconcile the whole world to God, defeated death by His death and resurrection, ascended in glorious triumph over the prince of darkness and will one day (unknown to all - even Himself) return to rule.
After these foundational truths I'm finding a grace and latitude as I walk and converse with others who hold and practice our mutual faith in Him differently than I do. I've come to a deep, deep trust in the Spirit who moves amongst us to lead me and others into all truth. That is not to say we won't have disagreement, but I would hope that we could conduct ourselves in the midst of those times in a manner that does not diminish or dismiss or exclude; the attitude of "I am of Apollos, I am of Peter, I am of Paul" that so often divides.
I no longer believe I have to control the Light and LIfe offered by Jesus. The community built on grace, a community of colorful flags and tents and pavilions fluttering in the breeze of the Spirit, is not about control.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Corinth #2
HOLY
The sound of the word itself invokes a stirring in my heart. Holy. Say the word and let it rest in you for a moment.
I am reminded of Isaiah 6, his commissioning and the seraphs speaking "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of His glory." I wonder what it sounded like to hear those words spoken in a heavenly tongue. I suspect our english word HOLY doesn't do it justice but it is all we have.
As I sit with the word I sense the "otherness" of it, the weight, the ineffableness of it. In many ways it is indescribable, a little like trying to describe the color of the sky to a blind person who has never seen it. The seraphs gave us a hint with the statement of His glory filling the whole earth - God-spoken creation gives us a glorious glimpse of His Holiness.
Holiness is disturbing, something just out of reach to mortal men and yet here is Paul telling us we are called to be holy. In our attempt at understanding this call we usually define it with a list of rules, "do's" and "don'ts", a measurable list that will show us and others that we are holy. It is our attempt at making holiness attainable. This will lead us to our own bankruptcy rather than to holiness. This call to something unattainable in our own efforts was done wisely; done so that we will be called back to Him.
In these opening words Paul answers this with telling us we are called into fellowship with Jesus Christ our Lord (vs 9). It is in fellowship where any hope for holiness is found. It is about new wine (His life) being poured into new wineskins (our lives redeemed, changed fundamentally at second birth) where we find holiness. It is in living out of His newness He's given through His grace where holiness arises. We are new creatures in Christ.
As I think about what that might practically look like, I no longer think of a list of "do's" and "don'ts" but rather I settle in on Galatians 5:22 - the fruit of the Spirit. LOVE, JOY, PEACE, PATIENCE, KINDNESS, GOODNESS, FAITHFULNESS, GENTLENESS, SELF-CONTROL. As we live by the Spirit, this fruit will grow from the inside out. Authentically living out this fruit will be a holiness entirely different from what this world offers. In the end we may, in fact, live out the list, but it will not be a narrowness, but rather out of the broad places of the abundant life He gives us. Psalm 18:30 comes to mind, "He broadens the path beneath me so that my ankles do not turn". Holiness is living broadly in the Spirit.
It is unattainable on our own, no list can contain this. His call to be holy is a call to trust, a true and honest trust in His Spirit within me.
The sound of the word itself invokes a stirring in my heart. Holy. Say the word and let it rest in you for a moment.
I am reminded of Isaiah 6, his commissioning and the seraphs speaking "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of His glory." I wonder what it sounded like to hear those words spoken in a heavenly tongue. I suspect our english word HOLY doesn't do it justice but it is all we have.
As I sit with the word I sense the "otherness" of it, the weight, the ineffableness of it. In many ways it is indescribable, a little like trying to describe the color of the sky to a blind person who has never seen it. The seraphs gave us a hint with the statement of His glory filling the whole earth - God-spoken creation gives us a glorious glimpse of His Holiness.
Holiness is disturbing, something just out of reach to mortal men and yet here is Paul telling us we are called to be holy. In our attempt at understanding this call we usually define it with a list of rules, "do's" and "don'ts", a measurable list that will show us and others that we are holy. It is our attempt at making holiness attainable. This will lead us to our own bankruptcy rather than to holiness. This call to something unattainable in our own efforts was done wisely; done so that we will be called back to Him.
In these opening words Paul answers this with telling us we are called into fellowship with Jesus Christ our Lord (vs 9). It is in fellowship where any hope for holiness is found. It is about new wine (His life) being poured into new wineskins (our lives redeemed, changed fundamentally at second birth) where we find holiness. It is in living out of His newness He's given through His grace where holiness arises. We are new creatures in Christ.
As I think about what that might practically look like, I no longer think of a list of "do's" and "don'ts" but rather I settle in on Galatians 5:22 - the fruit of the Spirit. LOVE, JOY, PEACE, PATIENCE, KINDNESS, GOODNESS, FAITHFULNESS, GENTLENESS, SELF-CONTROL. As we live by the Spirit, this fruit will grow from the inside out. Authentically living out this fruit will be a holiness entirely different from what this world offers. In the end we may, in fact, live out the list, but it will not be a narrowness, but rather out of the broad places of the abundant life He gives us. Psalm 18:30 comes to mind, "He broadens the path beneath me so that my ankles do not turn". Holiness is living broadly in the Spirit.
It is unattainable on our own, no list can contain this. His call to be holy is a call to trust, a true and honest trust in His Spirit within me.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Corinth #1
I've been in a dry place spiritually, a desert. We occasionally find ourselves in these places, don't we? Often we think something has gone wrong, that we've lost our way somehow. While there are times it is true something is "wrong", I now consider another possibility; He may want me in the desert for a while. Maybe my heart needs it. Deserts are places striped bare of all but the essentials, even the essentials can be barely found. It is a place of thirst and hunger as well as a place for remembering times more lush with His purpose, His presence. Psalm 63 recounts a time spent in the desert by David. So, I take to heart Jesus' words just before He left, "Lo, I am with you always" and know He is with me in the dryness that comes at times.
I've started a slow meander through I Corinthians. I wouldn't call what I do "study" but more a slow, thoughtful reading that is more about listening than anything else. I am reminded about what Paul wrote early in his letter to the Ephesians, "I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened.." (vs 1:18) and ask Him "What do you want me to see, to know?", when I spend time in Scripture. This attitude make this more personal, less ponderous.
I am stuck in the first 9 verses, actually one word, "called", has jumped out at me. If I am called, someone has done the calling and with that, there is a hearing implied. More deeper still, an active listening is needed. I am reminded about Jesus speaking about His sheep hearing His voice. This little word is not one to be skipped over quickly today, and the question arises, "Am I listening"?
The desert is a good place to listen.
I've started a slow meander through I Corinthians. I wouldn't call what I do "study" but more a slow, thoughtful reading that is more about listening than anything else. I am reminded about what Paul wrote early in his letter to the Ephesians, "I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened.." (vs 1:18) and ask Him "What do you want me to see, to know?", when I spend time in Scripture. This attitude make this more personal, less ponderous.
I am stuck in the first 9 verses, actually one word, "called", has jumped out at me. If I am called, someone has done the calling and with that, there is a hearing implied. More deeper still, an active listening is needed. I am reminded about Jesus speaking about His sheep hearing His voice. This little word is not one to be skipped over quickly today, and the question arises, "Am I listening"?
The desert is a good place to listen.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Grief
We gathered over the weekend to remember and pay some final respect to my Aunt Norma. She went home on May 6th, home to Jesus and her dear husband Bill who went home in 2006. Her three children, five of her six grandchildren, spouses, her twin brother and his wife all gathered Saturday for a service and then time at her home, time filled with memory, laughter and some sorrow. Even as I write this I feel the tightness and weight of grief settle in. I've missed Bill now for three and a half years but with Norma's homegoing a new grief has risen. A place in my life has passed leaving only memories.
Grief, a common thread for all humans weaves through our lives like a dark thread. This morning, during my time at the park I wrote this:
Salty wet memories wash over me
as 303 asphalt miles flow beneath
the tires tearing me away.
With each wave of memory
my heart aches under the constriction
of loss.
They really are gone.
Another tear forms.
I gasp for breath,
blink and let it fall slowly,
mute testament to this grief.
Parting was always painful,
a yawning chasm where hope retreats,
joy, fun, laughter diffuse to grayness.
I felt this loss painfully as a boy
sobbing beneath the willow tree
that arched over the boyhood pond.
That training made my heart,
whenever we drew together, revel in
hope, joy, laughter and
ache at every parting.
Now, the asphalt miles have done their deed,
but the waves of parting still crash,
my throat tightens and my heart squeezes out
one more salty wet memory
to roll down my cheek
And I am reminded that you, even you, Jesus,
wept.
Grief, a common thread for all humans weaves through our lives like a dark thread. This morning, during my time at the park I wrote this:
Salty wet memories wash over me
as 303 asphalt miles flow beneath
the tires tearing me away.
With each wave of memory
my heart aches under the constriction
of loss.
They really are gone.
Another tear forms.
I gasp for breath,
blink and let it fall slowly,
mute testament to this grief.
Parting was always painful,
a yawning chasm where hope retreats,
joy, fun, laughter diffuse to grayness.
I felt this loss painfully as a boy
sobbing beneath the willow tree
that arched over the boyhood pond.
That training made my heart,
whenever we drew together, revel in
hope, joy, laughter and
ache at every parting.
Now, the asphalt miles have done their deed,
but the waves of parting still crash,
my throat tightens and my heart squeezes out
one more salty wet memory
to roll down my cheek
And I am reminded that you, even you, Jesus,
wept.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Wilderness
I recently went on retreat with a small group I'm involved in. We've been meeting for nearly two years and our main focus has centered around formational issues. This retreat was a good pause from our usual schedule, designed to go a bit deeper, more concentrated into some facet of Christ forming in us.
We were led by two people who encouraged us to look at a couple of early events in Jesus' ministry, His baptism and His time in the wilderness immediately following His baptism. We looked at baptism as an identity bestowment event, "This is my Son in whom I am well pleased", and wilderness as a place of formation, a place of grace.
As we moved from identity into discussing wilderness and it's formative nature, one of our leaders said, "Our elder brother (Jesus) has shown us the way to live, make it through the wilderness."
A question arose in me, perhaps an impertinent one, maybe even dangerous, "Really? Did you not, Jesus, as incarnate God, have resources that are not available to me?" This centers around Jesus being fully human and fully God. The advantages afforded Him and the call to follow Him into the wilderness seems a bit like asking me to bat like a steroid-infused Mark McGuire at the height of his ability a few years ago. He has an unfair advantage.
Formation, time in the wilderness, is a necessity, it would seem, if we are to become more Christ-like. But how do I navigate this terrain? I believe my questions are fair ones that many may ask if they are honest. The answer is in the concept of "Christ in me, I in Christ", a personal incarnation of sorts. Learning to rest in, live in John 10:10 LIFE, a life only possible because of personal incarnation. Again, Christ in me, I in Christ. By walking in faith, God's resources are mine. By listening to the voice of my Good Shepherd, I will follow more victoriously into the wilderness.
Another thought has arisen. Jesus was not fully God in human flesh, but fully God AND fully human. We often think of Incarnation as a stooping as He put on flesh, a way for us to know He understands our frailties. This certainly is true but there may be more to this. Perhaps He's telling us we are not as fully human as we believe we are. Perhaps He's also showing us how to be fully human. Perhaps He's asking us to consider we will only be fully human to the degree we become more alive to God; Christ in me, I in Christ.
Otherwise we are only living in the shallows of human-ness.
We were led by two people who encouraged us to look at a couple of early events in Jesus' ministry, His baptism and His time in the wilderness immediately following His baptism. We looked at baptism as an identity bestowment event, "This is my Son in whom I am well pleased", and wilderness as a place of formation, a place of grace.
As we moved from identity into discussing wilderness and it's formative nature, one of our leaders said, "Our elder brother (Jesus) has shown us the way to live, make it through the wilderness."
A question arose in me, perhaps an impertinent one, maybe even dangerous, "Really? Did you not, Jesus, as incarnate God, have resources that are not available to me?" This centers around Jesus being fully human and fully God. The advantages afforded Him and the call to follow Him into the wilderness seems a bit like asking me to bat like a steroid-infused Mark McGuire at the height of his ability a few years ago. He has an unfair advantage.
Formation, time in the wilderness, is a necessity, it would seem, if we are to become more Christ-like. But how do I navigate this terrain? I believe my questions are fair ones that many may ask if they are honest. The answer is in the concept of "Christ in me, I in Christ", a personal incarnation of sorts. Learning to rest in, live in John 10:10 LIFE, a life only possible because of personal incarnation. Again, Christ in me, I in Christ. By walking in faith, God's resources are mine. By listening to the voice of my Good Shepherd, I will follow more victoriously into the wilderness.
Another thought has arisen. Jesus was not fully God in human flesh, but fully God AND fully human. We often think of Incarnation as a stooping as He put on flesh, a way for us to know He understands our frailties. This certainly is true but there may be more to this. Perhaps He's telling us we are not as fully human as we believe we are. Perhaps He's also showing us how to be fully human. Perhaps He's asking us to consider we will only be fully human to the degree we become more alive to God; Christ in me, I in Christ.
Otherwise we are only living in the shallows of human-ness.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Fear
Sacramento is on the Pacific flyway so there are a fair number of Canadian geese that flock in the park I frequent in the mornings. Lately there are fewer and fewer, they are moving northward. This morning a goose flapped awkwardly into a cottonwood tree right next to where I was. It sat looking desolately for easy flight out but apparently couldn't find it. I could "fear" it out by climbing the tree but is that the proper role of a more powerful being? Do we infringe on another with fear even if for it's own good? The goose's mate, after looking up at the tree for some time, joined and the two sat squawking noisily to each other. They will work it out, I am sure.
My 30 year sojourn with depression and despair created in me a core of anger. My family learned quickly how to navigate around that elephant in the room as if walking on eggshells. Having walked out of that prison cell, the depression and despair have dissipated and my anger has been answered by Abba's kind hand. But I still see vestiges of my family's coping mechanisims. Fear of me was a poor way to live for all of us. Happily, this dynamic has changed but I've thought some about this dynamic in relation to walking with Holy Abba.
What place does fear have in our walk with Him? How long can fear sustain a relationship? Does a relationship started in fear move to something more enfolding of our complete heart? Can we come to know His heart if we don't move out of fear? Fear. I do wonder if our language is not precise enough to convey what is biblical fear. I don't have an answer regarding the precise meaning of the word as used in Scripture and that is not where I am going today with this. Perhaps later I will, though.
How might God feel about us continuing in fear of Him, always creeping around Him as if on eggshells? One of the events of that day of Galgotha gives me a hint; the veil was torn, top to bottom. The significance of that tearing can not be underplayed. The Holy of Holies is thrown open, wide open. Jesus' words that day, spoken to a fellow sufferer on a cross are words for us as well.
Today.... with me.... in paradise.
My 30 year sojourn with depression and despair created in me a core of anger. My family learned quickly how to navigate around that elephant in the room as if walking on eggshells. Having walked out of that prison cell, the depression and despair have dissipated and my anger has been answered by Abba's kind hand. But I still see vestiges of my family's coping mechanisims. Fear of me was a poor way to live for all of us. Happily, this dynamic has changed but I've thought some about this dynamic in relation to walking with Holy Abba.
What place does fear have in our walk with Him? How long can fear sustain a relationship? Does a relationship started in fear move to something more enfolding of our complete heart? Can we come to know His heart if we don't move out of fear? Fear. I do wonder if our language is not precise enough to convey what is biblical fear. I don't have an answer regarding the precise meaning of the word as used in Scripture and that is not where I am going today with this. Perhaps later I will, though.
How might God feel about us continuing in fear of Him, always creeping around Him as if on eggshells? One of the events of that day of Galgotha gives me a hint; the veil was torn, top to bottom. The significance of that tearing can not be underplayed. The Holy of Holies is thrown open, wide open. Jesus' words that day, spoken to a fellow sufferer on a cross are words for us as well.
Today.... with me.... in paradise.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Random Writing Thoughts
I usually write in my journal, a cheap spiral bound notebook that fits well in my Bible cover, before I write here. Today I have the desire to simply write a bit about writing here.
I started this not knowing where it would go and who might look in and read. I wasn't sure who might wander in but I did have my original friends who said I should do this who would probably read here. I have some "flesh-on" friends who have told me they are enjoying what I am writing here and that always surprises me a bit. To be perfectly frank, I am fairly torn about this. I think in all of us is the desire to be noticed, to do something that is appreciated by others and at the same time we are a bit embarrassed when we get the notice. At least that is my experience.
There is a function here that allows me to see where people are from that have checked in and the frequency of pageviews. I am curious about some of you. There is someone in Malaysia who has read here several times. Albania is another country that is showing up. This past week someone in Columbia also has checked in a couple of times. Botswana is another country but I know who that is, I have a friend who lost his wife a year and a half ago who is now teaching there in Africa. Part of me is very curious about some of you.
There is a place to make comments but few have opted to say anything. I am not very good at all the different settings in blogspot and have not been able to make those comments appear under the postings. Perhaps conversations might ensue if I could do that. But again, there is this part of me, the insecurity I carry a bit too heavy in my heart, that may not want to read comments. It does leave me a bit curious though.
I've also noticed something else about how I've gone about writing here. I find myself struggling to "wrap it up" all neat and tidy. Lately this issue has kept me from writing some things. I've got some ideas rattling around in my head but I don't know how to wrap them up in neat little packages. I wait for that and the waiting caused me to stop for nearly a month. Interesting though, in that month of my quietude, more folk came to read here than any other time. I am curious about that.
So, I have ideas; three homeless men and a cigarette lighter, weeds, incarnation. I was sitting outside this afternoon reading a chapter of a book for a small group my wife and I are members of. At the same time I was reflecting on several of these ideas and decided I will just start to write about them and not worry so much about making neat, tidy packages of them. I've also decided, especially with the idea about incarnation, that I might need several posts.
I am not "trained" to really write about theology, that isn't really my intent and I know I might not get it "right". That isn't what this has ever been about, but there are times I wonder if I am not just now discovering things that everyone else already knows. That makes me giggle a bit inside. I added the little phrase under the blog title a few weeks back. It sort of sums up why I write here. I am just an ordinary guy looking for the transcendence of God in ordinary places....... like weeds.
I could have used some editing..... too many "really"s..... oh well. (edited Monday, 4/18/11)
I started this not knowing where it would go and who might look in and read. I wasn't sure who might wander in but I did have my original friends who said I should do this who would probably read here. I have some "flesh-on" friends who have told me they are enjoying what I am writing here and that always surprises me a bit. To be perfectly frank, I am fairly torn about this. I think in all of us is the desire to be noticed, to do something that is appreciated by others and at the same time we are a bit embarrassed when we get the notice. At least that is my experience.
There is a function here that allows me to see where people are from that have checked in and the frequency of pageviews. I am curious about some of you. There is someone in Malaysia who has read here several times. Albania is another country that is showing up. This past week someone in Columbia also has checked in a couple of times. Botswana is another country but I know who that is, I have a friend who lost his wife a year and a half ago who is now teaching there in Africa. Part of me is very curious about some of you.
There is a place to make comments but few have opted to say anything. I am not very good at all the different settings in blogspot and have not been able to make those comments appear under the postings. Perhaps conversations might ensue if I could do that. But again, there is this part of me, the insecurity I carry a bit too heavy in my heart, that may not want to read comments. It does leave me a bit curious though.
I've also noticed something else about how I've gone about writing here. I find myself struggling to "wrap it up" all neat and tidy. Lately this issue has kept me from writing some things. I've got some ideas rattling around in my head but I don't know how to wrap them up in neat little packages. I wait for that and the waiting caused me to stop for nearly a month. Interesting though, in that month of my quietude, more folk came to read here than any other time. I am curious about that.
So, I have ideas; three homeless men and a cigarette lighter, weeds, incarnation. I was sitting outside this afternoon reading a chapter of a book for a small group my wife and I are members of. At the same time I was reflecting on several of these ideas and decided I will just start to write about them and not worry so much about making neat, tidy packages of them. I've also decided, especially with the idea about incarnation, that I might need several posts.
I am not "trained" to really write about theology, that isn't really my intent and I know I might not get it "right". That isn't what this has ever been about, but there are times I wonder if I am not just now discovering things that everyone else already knows. That makes me giggle a bit inside. I added the little phrase under the blog title a few weeks back. It sort of sums up why I write here. I am just an ordinary guy looking for the transcendence of God in ordinary places....... like weeds.
I could have used some editing..... too many "really"s..... oh well. (edited Monday, 4/18/11)
Monday, April 11, 2011
Moab
As I write I am sitting at the Denver airport waiting for my next leg of my trip home sipping a Caribou iced dark chocolate mocha. I am tired but reflective of a good time in Moab. I never counted how many men were there but I believe it was 16 or 17 from Pennsylvania, Colorado, Idaho, Ohio, West Virginia, Arizona, Kansas, Michigan, Nebraska and California. Our stories intersected for five days in the high desert of Moab.
God spoke. I went into this time with some uncertainty, the old lies of "You don't belong" nipped a bit at the edges of my heart a day or two before leaving. There were many times I sat and respectfully listened; many of these men have lived lives I can't imagine. Stories of guns and ammunition, hunting, sports, time spent in the military. These are things I know little of and I would be less than honest if I dtdn't admit to a bit of tension in me as I silently battled those old lies. Lies they are though, and I felt included in this eclectic gathering of men.
He also spoke in the conversations I had, learning of job loss, broken marriages, children returning to God, a man standing up to family members to protect his wife. I could go on with those stories, it was a deep privilege to be trusted with the holiness of Abba's movement in their lives.
Amidst all the talking and laughing (plenty of it) there were times of sitting in companionable silence with some very special men. All too often we are not comfortable with silence, especially when with others. We want to fill the space with words and feel a tension without them. God blessed me with a few men who can sit easily in the absence of spoken words. This moved me deeply.
Abba also spoke through the sheer beauty of Moab. I knew I needed this, time to savor beauty, but I had no idea until I entered Arches National Park for the first time on Thursday, the depth of that need. My eyes filled with tears and my heart warmed. It was as if I could breath for the first time in months. I won't try to describe the beauty of these places, Arches and Canyonlands National Parks.
I went on this trip hoping for a word, something either new or a reminder of Abba's intimate love for me. What I found was a lavish, wild beauty that was not intimate. The beauty called deeply to me, asking me to allow Him to enlarge me out of my smallness. These places dwarf you as you stand amidst the red rock spires, arches and canyons. I am stumbling for the proper words without finding the right ones. What I saw and heard was Abba saying again, "I am".
God spoke. I went into this time with some uncertainty, the old lies of "You don't belong" nipped a bit at the edges of my heart a day or two before leaving. There were many times I sat and respectfully listened; many of these men have lived lives I can't imagine. Stories of guns and ammunition, hunting, sports, time spent in the military. These are things I know little of and I would be less than honest if I dtdn't admit to a bit of tension in me as I silently battled those old lies. Lies they are though, and I felt included in this eclectic gathering of men.
He also spoke in the conversations I had, learning of job loss, broken marriages, children returning to God, a man standing up to family members to protect his wife. I could go on with those stories, it was a deep privilege to be trusted with the holiness of Abba's movement in their lives.
Amidst all the talking and laughing (plenty of it) there were times of sitting in companionable silence with some very special men. All too often we are not comfortable with silence, especially when with others. We want to fill the space with words and feel a tension without them. God blessed me with a few men who can sit easily in the absence of spoken words. This moved me deeply.
Abba also spoke through the sheer beauty of Moab. I knew I needed this, time to savor beauty, but I had no idea until I entered Arches National Park for the first time on Thursday, the depth of that need. My eyes filled with tears and my heart warmed. It was as if I could breath for the first time in months. I won't try to describe the beauty of these places, Arches and Canyonlands National Parks.
I went on this trip hoping for a word, something either new or a reminder of Abba's intimate love for me. What I found was a lavish, wild beauty that was not intimate. The beauty called deeply to me, asking me to allow Him to enlarge me out of my smallness. These places dwarf you as you stand amidst the red rock spires, arches and canyons. I am stumbling for the proper words without finding the right ones. What I saw and heard was Abba saying again, "I am".
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Incremental
I am leaving tomorrow for several days in Moab Utah with a bunch of guys, my Ransomed Heart brothers. A few of these men I've met face-to-face, most I've only "conversed" with on a forum, now defunct, that was sponsored by Ransomed Heart. If you asked me six years ago if I'd ever do something like this, I would have answered with an emphatic "No!".
What happened?
To answer I need to briefly describe who I was. I grew up deathly afraid of men. Through some very dark, destructive experiences in my early formative years coupled with absolute ineptitude in the arena of sports where most boys acquire a sense of belonging and a very lonely childhood in rural California (yes, it does exist), I came into adulthood believing beyond a shadow of a doubt that I didn't fit into the world of men. I'm an untrained singer with an eye towards all things beautiful who will break out in a cold sweat if you put a baseball glove on my left hand.
Today, I am looking forward to five days in Utah with a bunch of men. Truly there has been a transformation of my heart, but how did that happen?
Incrementally, bit by bit, small step by small step. Jesus has done what He said He came to do when He read from Isaiah 61, "bind up broken hearts, set captives free, give sight to the blind".
Often we want the big "AHA!" moment where clarity rushes in and a new thing is known for certain; our lives take a new trajectory. I've had a few of those moments these past six years but mostly this has been a walk of step-by-step trust in His words for me; believing I am a new man with a new heart, that there is something more true about me than who I once believed I was.
Part of Jesus' work is transforming us into His likeness, walking as He created us to be. But I have found this is a long, slow process accomplished in increments marked along the way as I cooperate with His promptings. Its not been an easy journey nor has it always been an "always forward" one. Every once in a while He gives me a glimpse backward and I see how far the two of us have come. Today is one of those moments. I can't wait to get on the plane tomorrow, can't wait to be with these men. Yes, some of the old lies will spring up and I may taste once again some of my old fears, but facing these fears, with Jesus, is part of this incremental process of transformation. I am no longer looking for the big moments, but the small steps.
What happened?
To answer I need to briefly describe who I was. I grew up deathly afraid of men. Through some very dark, destructive experiences in my early formative years coupled with absolute ineptitude in the arena of sports where most boys acquire a sense of belonging and a very lonely childhood in rural California (yes, it does exist), I came into adulthood believing beyond a shadow of a doubt that I didn't fit into the world of men. I'm an untrained singer with an eye towards all things beautiful who will break out in a cold sweat if you put a baseball glove on my left hand.
Today, I am looking forward to five days in Utah with a bunch of men. Truly there has been a transformation of my heart, but how did that happen?
Incrementally, bit by bit, small step by small step. Jesus has done what He said He came to do when He read from Isaiah 61, "bind up broken hearts, set captives free, give sight to the blind".
Often we want the big "AHA!" moment where clarity rushes in and a new thing is known for certain; our lives take a new trajectory. I've had a few of those moments these past six years but mostly this has been a walk of step-by-step trust in His words for me; believing I am a new man with a new heart, that there is something more true about me than who I once believed I was.
Part of Jesus' work is transforming us into His likeness, walking as He created us to be. But I have found this is a long, slow process accomplished in increments marked along the way as I cooperate with His promptings. Its not been an easy journey nor has it always been an "always forward" one. Every once in a while He gives me a glimpse backward and I see how far the two of us have come. Today is one of those moments. I can't wait to get on the plane tomorrow, can't wait to be with these men. Yes, some of the old lies will spring up and I may taste once again some of my old fears, but facing these fears, with Jesus, is part of this incremental process of transformation. I am no longer looking for the big moments, but the small steps.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Hungry
I am hungry. Hungry for "something", a something I can't find. I'm wandering about in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors, eating a bite of this or a bite of that but the "something" remains elusive.
As one who eats at times out of emotion and not need, I know this experience, the foraging for the snack that makes the hunger go away, transitory satisfaction. I've stood before the open doored refrigerator finding tubs of "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" (really, your taste buds are that bad!), a large pickle jar with one and a half pickles semi-floating languidly in the brine, one third of a plastic jug of 2% milk and the ever-present blackened-red sticky-top ketchup bottle. There is more, of course, but nothing grabs me.
I'm not speaking of that kind of hunger though, but rather a spiritual hunger. I came to the park this morning with a deadness gnawing at my heart. I sat in the holybluemazdapickup for a few minutes then forced myself to haul out my folding chair, green book bag, thermos and travel mug of coffee and sat myself down, my own early morning liturgy. I've been at this place of opposition before, someone doesn't like my time with Abba in the morning. So I attempted to push through a little bit.
I pulled out a book my Wednesday Men's group is using, Truefaced, and began to read. Nothing. "This isn't working", I thought. I pulled out my Bible and opened to Job, a book I've been reading off and on for several months. Read a chapter or two, then moved on to Psalms - 8, 38, 68, 98. Nothing. Nothing answered the spiritual snacking I'd been partaking in. Still hungry.
"Do you trust me - in the hunger?"
The question arose in my heart. I said yes, I don't want to snack myself to some false sense of satisfaction when staying hungry might be where He wants me. I've done that kind of snacking before. Today I sensed Him asking me to simply remain in the hunger and trust Him, wherever it leads.
I packed up the chair, book bag, coffee mug and thermos, almost got in the holybluemazdapickup and drove off but decided to take one little stroll. "What are you hungry for?" arose so I spent the next few minutes talking to Him about what I AM hungry for: my son's heart, his wife's walk with Abba, my daughter's job search and the toll it's taking on her, a friend in Kansas who has begun a battle against cancer, another friend in Florida who has battled valiantly for his three children and the church he leads, for dear friends who will be saying goodbye to a son who is moving a few hundred miles away, another couple who are living under the tension of a loved one in active (very active) duty in the military, my wife and our marriage...... I am hungry for a lot of things, places and people. Sometimes being hungry is a good thing.
As one who eats at times out of emotion and not need, I know this experience, the foraging for the snack that makes the hunger go away, transitory satisfaction. I've stood before the open doored refrigerator finding tubs of "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" (really, your taste buds are that bad!), a large pickle jar with one and a half pickles semi-floating languidly in the brine, one third of a plastic jug of 2% milk and the ever-present blackened-red sticky-top ketchup bottle. There is more, of course, but nothing grabs me.
I'm not speaking of that kind of hunger though, but rather a spiritual hunger. I came to the park this morning with a deadness gnawing at my heart. I sat in the holybluemazdapickup for a few minutes then forced myself to haul out my folding chair, green book bag, thermos and travel mug of coffee and sat myself down, my own early morning liturgy. I've been at this place of opposition before, someone doesn't like my time with Abba in the morning. So I attempted to push through a little bit.
I pulled out a book my Wednesday Men's group is using, Truefaced, and began to read. Nothing. "This isn't working", I thought. I pulled out my Bible and opened to Job, a book I've been reading off and on for several months. Read a chapter or two, then moved on to Psalms - 8, 38, 68, 98. Nothing. Nothing answered the spiritual snacking I'd been partaking in. Still hungry.
"Do you trust me - in the hunger?"
The question arose in my heart. I said yes, I don't want to snack myself to some false sense of satisfaction when staying hungry might be where He wants me. I've done that kind of snacking before. Today I sensed Him asking me to simply remain in the hunger and trust Him, wherever it leads.
I packed up the chair, book bag, coffee mug and thermos, almost got in the holybluemazdapickup and drove off but decided to take one little stroll. "What are you hungry for?" arose so I spent the next few minutes talking to Him about what I AM hungry for: my son's heart, his wife's walk with Abba, my daughter's job search and the toll it's taking on her, a friend in Kansas who has begun a battle against cancer, another friend in Florida who has battled valiantly for his three children and the church he leads, for dear friends who will be saying goodbye to a son who is moving a few hundred miles away, another couple who are living under the tension of a loved one in active (very active) duty in the military, my wife and our marriage...... I am hungry for a lot of things, places and people. Sometimes being hungry is a good thing.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Dad
My father would be 98 today. I am not sure why, but I miss him. Dad and I were not close - no outright hostility but not close. He was a quiet man, passive, married to a woman who was neither.
Although quiet, some could ask just the right question at just the right time and Dad would open up. His last birthday with us in 1999 was one of those times. My wife asked Dad what was his favorite birthday. At first he spoke of his 80th. Mom and Dad were "full-timing" in their fifth wheel and had planted themselves in Port Orford, Oregon. My younger sister and I surprised Dad by driving with his three grandchildren to spend the weekend with them; she from Seattle, me from Sacramento. Then his eyes lit up and he recalled his 21st. birthday back in 1934. It was a wonderful story of a barn dance, and angel food cake and the dawn breaking up the party. Not even my mother had heard him speak that story.
I think that is where my melancholy stems from today; I simply didn't know my father, nor did he know me. I hear other stories of fathers and sons who have healthy relationships and the void becomes amplified a bit by knowing them. I simply have no idea what Dad thought of me.
That's what the hole looks like for me, the desire to be known by Dad and in turn to know Dad as well. I believe its a common desire that some have filled by their earthly fathers, but all too often it is not. Passivity, neglect and, at times, outright abuse has crushed this desire for good fathering.
In this melancholy that arises from time to time I am reminded of a word used by Jesus, Abba. One simple four letter word that must have sounded revolutionary to those that heard Him speak it. Abba, Daddy is what it means, a term of intimacy and endearment foreign to those who walked with Jesus during His earthly days. The God of the patriarchs was not a distant, remote deity who kept Himself at arms length but a Dad.
A Dad who invites, desires deeply for me to step closer to Him and allow Him to father me. He knows me and wants me to know Him, INTIMATELY. Its a huge step of faith but one that has paid deep dividends in healing my shattered places. "Abba, I am yours. Father me", is my prayer on this day of remembrance of my dad, Charles Elwood Bowers.
Although quiet, some could ask just the right question at just the right time and Dad would open up. His last birthday with us in 1999 was one of those times. My wife asked Dad what was his favorite birthday. At first he spoke of his 80th. Mom and Dad were "full-timing" in their fifth wheel and had planted themselves in Port Orford, Oregon. My younger sister and I surprised Dad by driving with his three grandchildren to spend the weekend with them; she from Seattle, me from Sacramento. Then his eyes lit up and he recalled his 21st. birthday back in 1934. It was a wonderful story of a barn dance, and angel food cake and the dawn breaking up the party. Not even my mother had heard him speak that story.
I think that is where my melancholy stems from today; I simply didn't know my father, nor did he know me. I hear other stories of fathers and sons who have healthy relationships and the void becomes amplified a bit by knowing them. I simply have no idea what Dad thought of me.
That's what the hole looks like for me, the desire to be known by Dad and in turn to know Dad as well. I believe its a common desire that some have filled by their earthly fathers, but all too often it is not. Passivity, neglect and, at times, outright abuse has crushed this desire for good fathering.
In this melancholy that arises from time to time I am reminded of a word used by Jesus, Abba. One simple four letter word that must have sounded revolutionary to those that heard Him speak it. Abba, Daddy is what it means, a term of intimacy and endearment foreign to those who walked with Jesus during His earthly days. The God of the patriarchs was not a distant, remote deity who kept Himself at arms length but a Dad.
A Dad who invites, desires deeply for me to step closer to Him and allow Him to father me. He knows me and wants me to know Him, INTIMATELY. Its a huge step of faith but one that has paid deep dividends in healing my shattered places. "Abba, I am yours. Father me", is my prayer on this day of remembrance of my dad, Charles Elwood Bowers.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Wandered
Something stirs in you. Sometimes it is a smell or the taste of the grass you are grazing on or a memory of something but it touches something in you and an old desire is reawakened. You want to ignore it, after all, shouldn’t you be satisfied with the pasture the Good Shepherd has brought you to? Something though, has stirred and feels nearly overwhelming.
You follow your nose down a path, grazing here and there. Looking back you still see the other 99 in the flock. You belong there and your heart is tugged with that realization. Turning back, a step or two is made towards the flock but the poison of rationalization steps in to turn you the other way. “It’s just a short way off the pasture” or “I can handle this, just a taste of this old thing that I am hungry for will make me never want it again” or even more deadly, “I’ll be back before the Shepherd misses me.” And with a trot in your step, your mind is made up and you leave the pasture behind.
Head down with your nose filled with the smell and memories of times past and the anticipation of what is to come you buy into the lie thinking you feel alive. The chase is on, the pursuit of that “it” you think you’ve missed. “What fun” is the thought that shoves aside the inner, deeper voice of caution that says, “Turn back, you still have a choice”.
You arrive to where you’ve been headed. It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s a greedy morsel and you willingly partake of the fruit that will soon eat you up. It all floods back, the moments of pleasure, feeling alive, maybe feeling wanted in a way you’ve been hungering for, a hunger that little by little ate the satisfaction you once knew in the gaze of love from the Good Shepherd’s eyes.
No sooner have you partaken of the old delight than it turns on you and shouts, “What have you done?” You poke your head up wanting desperately to escape the thorny clutches of the vine you’ve been feasting off of. You tug against the capturing arms and feel the pinch of thorns work through your wool
You push against the thorns, side to side, forward and backward but with a sickening realization you know you are stuck. “Why did I do this again”! If I could just get out, I will never come this way again” Heaviness creeps into your heart and you want to cry but you know you’ve done this to yourself and you deserve to be stuck, back in the thorns you once lived in. You want to go back to the pasture, want to see the Good Shepherd again but you are ashamed. Even if you get yourself out, you don’t know if you can face Him.
Then you think, “If I get myself out of this myself maybe He will love me more. Maybe I will finally learn the lesson and never come this way again”. These thoughts energize you again and more futile attempts are made to extricate yourself from your predicament. The end result though, you have dug yourself in even deeper, more thorns have lodged into your wool.
You hear someone coming, you hear His voice; it’s the Good Shepherd. He’s come looking for you. You hear his voice and you want to cry, “Here I am, here I am”, but the shame of what you’ve done silences your cries. You hope, just a little, that He won’t find you. You indulge yourself into a little fantasy. You aren’t really stuck, you’ve been playing a little game. You will just jump out and with a little chuckle shout out, “Here I am. I’ve just been playing a little game”! It’s no good, though, your stuck and you know He will know better. He knows what you’ve done.
“Oh, there you are” you hear His voice say with delight. “Look at you, you’ve wandered off and gotten stuck in these old thorns” is spoken without an ounce of condemnation. You expect that, it might even “feel” better to hear anger or accusation; the delight and love hurts a bit. You wish you weren’t stuck and you wish you could prove yourself worthy of His delight by getting yourself out of the thorns but all you can do is sit there, accept his thorn-scratched hands as they slowly work you out of the bush. You are humbled by His tender love and determination to find you. Humbled as only you can be if you give up the fight and simply accept His tender love.
At the same time you want to hide from Him and you want to bury yourself in His arms. He tenderly holds you so you opt to let yourself be nuzzled, loved. “Oh my, look at all these thorns. When we get back to the pasture you will have to sit still and let me get them out of your wool. Some of them have burrowed in deep. They must hurt”. You are stunned at His compassion; after all, you did this to yourself.
After no small amount of time, the thorns have been removed but you still ache inside with the heaviness of wandering off. You want to vow to never do this again but there is something about trying to claim the future that keeps you from doing this. You simply know you need to learn to accept His mercy in searching, His grace in taking you out of the thorn bush, His love in setting you down once again in the pasture He’s lead his flock to.
You follow your nose down a path, grazing here and there. Looking back you still see the other 99 in the flock. You belong there and your heart is tugged with that realization. Turning back, a step or two is made towards the flock but the poison of rationalization steps in to turn you the other way. “It’s just a short way off the pasture” or “I can handle this, just a taste of this old thing that I am hungry for will make me never want it again” or even more deadly, “I’ll be back before the Shepherd misses me.” And with a trot in your step, your mind is made up and you leave the pasture behind.
Head down with your nose filled with the smell and memories of times past and the anticipation of what is to come you buy into the lie thinking you feel alive. The chase is on, the pursuit of that “it” you think you’ve missed. “What fun” is the thought that shoves aside the inner, deeper voice of caution that says, “Turn back, you still have a choice”.
You arrive to where you’ve been headed. It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s a greedy morsel and you willingly partake of the fruit that will soon eat you up. It all floods back, the moments of pleasure, feeling alive, maybe feeling wanted in a way you’ve been hungering for, a hunger that little by little ate the satisfaction you once knew in the gaze of love from the Good Shepherd’s eyes.
No sooner have you partaken of the old delight than it turns on you and shouts, “What have you done?” You poke your head up wanting desperately to escape the thorny clutches of the vine you’ve been feasting off of. You tug against the capturing arms and feel the pinch of thorns work through your wool
You push against the thorns, side to side, forward and backward but with a sickening realization you know you are stuck. “Why did I do this again”! If I could just get out, I will never come this way again” Heaviness creeps into your heart and you want to cry but you know you’ve done this to yourself and you deserve to be stuck, back in the thorns you once lived in. You want to go back to the pasture, want to see the Good Shepherd again but you are ashamed. Even if you get yourself out, you don’t know if you can face Him.
Then you think, “If I get myself out of this myself maybe He will love me more. Maybe I will finally learn the lesson and never come this way again”. These thoughts energize you again and more futile attempts are made to extricate yourself from your predicament. The end result though, you have dug yourself in even deeper, more thorns have lodged into your wool.
You hear someone coming, you hear His voice; it’s the Good Shepherd. He’s come looking for you. You hear his voice and you want to cry, “Here I am, here I am”, but the shame of what you’ve done silences your cries. You hope, just a little, that He won’t find you. You indulge yourself into a little fantasy. You aren’t really stuck, you’ve been playing a little game. You will just jump out and with a little chuckle shout out, “Here I am. I’ve just been playing a little game”! It’s no good, though, your stuck and you know He will know better. He knows what you’ve done.
“Oh, there you are” you hear His voice say with delight. “Look at you, you’ve wandered off and gotten stuck in these old thorns” is spoken without an ounce of condemnation. You expect that, it might even “feel” better to hear anger or accusation; the delight and love hurts a bit. You wish you weren’t stuck and you wish you could prove yourself worthy of His delight by getting yourself out of the thorns but all you can do is sit there, accept his thorn-scratched hands as they slowly work you out of the bush. You are humbled by His tender love and determination to find you. Humbled as only you can be if you give up the fight and simply accept His tender love.
At the same time you want to hide from Him and you want to bury yourself in His arms. He tenderly holds you so you opt to let yourself be nuzzled, loved. “Oh my, look at all these thorns. When we get back to the pasture you will have to sit still and let me get them out of your wool. Some of them have burrowed in deep. They must hurt”. You are stunned at His compassion; after all, you did this to yourself.
After no small amount of time, the thorns have been removed but you still ache inside with the heaviness of wandering off. You want to vow to never do this again but there is something about trying to claim the future that keeps you from doing this. You simply know you need to learn to accept His mercy in searching, His grace in taking you out of the thorn bush, His love in setting you down once again in the pasture He’s lead his flock to.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Inconvenient Wisdom
What kind of people do we surround ourselves with? I went "friend hungry" for so long that at times I've accepted friendships a bit too easily. When I finally hit my wall in 2005 I found myself utterly alone with no one I could trust with my story. At that point I needed to be alone so that I would turn deeply to my true friend, Jesus. He spoke and carried me through several months to help me discover my heart, the heart He'd put in me. It is a journey I am still on to this day.
But He did not leave me alone for long. He led me to several men who could be trusted with my heart. All but one of these men are geographically scattered; Pennsylvania, Florida, Indiana, Colorado, Oregon and one who, due to his vocation, has been in Germany, Iraq and now is in California receiving training before a move to Nepal. Except for my local friend, we all met on an internet forum sponsored by a ministry we'd all been touched by.
These are men who have spoken hard truth to me and who will also let me speak into their lives as well. They have stood by me when I've hit dark places that I needed to face. They are friends who have, at times, spoken inconvenient wisdom to me when I needed it and God led them to speak.
Inconvenient wisdom, words that call out truth, are not always welcome but because I know these friends are for me and because they really know me, I will listen. They will also listen to me as I offer inconvenient words. I am deeply blessed to have them in my life. I've learned to not dismiss what they say as simply, "their opinion", and they do not dismiss me or my words.
I believe it is in this kind of community that God does some of His best work. We need this type of community. It is not always easy to hear what is needed but I trust the community, the fellowship of these friends and I will listen knowing God uses them to speak His truth to me at times.
The question that is on my heart today for any who wander in and read these words is, do you have those kinds of friends around you or are you surrounded by the shallowness of "yes men"? I am reminded of this verse from Proverbs 27:6 "Better are the wounds of a friend than the deceitful kisses of an enemy."
But He did not leave me alone for long. He led me to several men who could be trusted with my heart. All but one of these men are geographically scattered; Pennsylvania, Florida, Indiana, Colorado, Oregon and one who, due to his vocation, has been in Germany, Iraq and now is in California receiving training before a move to Nepal. Except for my local friend, we all met on an internet forum sponsored by a ministry we'd all been touched by.
These are men who have spoken hard truth to me and who will also let me speak into their lives as well. They have stood by me when I've hit dark places that I needed to face. They are friends who have, at times, spoken inconvenient wisdom to me when I needed it and God led them to speak.
Inconvenient wisdom, words that call out truth, are not always welcome but because I know these friends are for me and because they really know me, I will listen. They will also listen to me as I offer inconvenient words. I am deeply blessed to have them in my life. I've learned to not dismiss what they say as simply, "their opinion", and they do not dismiss me or my words.
I believe it is in this kind of community that God does some of His best work. We need this type of community. It is not always easy to hear what is needed but I trust the community, the fellowship of these friends and I will listen knowing God uses them to speak His truth to me at times.
The question that is on my heart today for any who wander in and read these words is, do you have those kinds of friends around you or are you surrounded by the shallowness of "yes men"? I am reminded of this verse from Proverbs 27:6 "Better are the wounds of a friend than the deceitful kisses of an enemy."
Monday, February 7, 2011
Stillness
Stillness. Say the word. Let the sound of the word rest in your mouth; the beginning and ending softness of the "s" sound settle on your mind, your heart. The word, with only the slight percussive "t" invites one to a resting of our body, mind and heart for something deep, something good.
If one is honest with themselves they will find a hunger for stillness. Our heart, minds and bodies need stillness to thrive. Taking time for quiet is good in and of itself. However, there is more, so much more.
Perhaps some who have read this far have a concern. Many of us who lived in the rise of eastern meditative practices have a "gut check" whenever someone suggests a practice that appears close to those ideas. Let me emphatically say, I am not speaking of those practices. This is not "an emptying of oneself" but really a time of being present as authentically and deeply as possible, a practice of allowing distractions to fall away and a listening for God's still small voice.
"Be still and know that I am God", an oft remembered phrase from Psalm 46:10, has come to me lately as not so much a suggestion or invitation but a gentle command. Being still to know Him, this is where the depth is but nearly everything in our culture, even in most churches, we are bombarded by "doing" to know Him, not "being still" to know Him. We are constantly invited to read, listen to radio programs, CD's and podcast, watch television to learn; a constant cacophony of good ideas and words but do we take time for stillness? We neglect it to our own peril.
Do we listen for His voice? He chooses to use a still, small voice so that we have to stop in stillness and faith to listen with our hearts. Be still and know that I am God. There is a bit of urgency to it. Shut it all off, find 10 minutes alone, let the distractions fall away and listen, He will speak.
If one is honest with themselves they will find a hunger for stillness. Our heart, minds and bodies need stillness to thrive. Taking time for quiet is good in and of itself. However, there is more, so much more.
Perhaps some who have read this far have a concern. Many of us who lived in the rise of eastern meditative practices have a "gut check" whenever someone suggests a practice that appears close to those ideas. Let me emphatically say, I am not speaking of those practices. This is not "an emptying of oneself" but really a time of being present as authentically and deeply as possible, a practice of allowing distractions to fall away and a listening for God's still small voice.
"Be still and know that I am God", an oft remembered phrase from Psalm 46:10, has come to me lately as not so much a suggestion or invitation but a gentle command. Being still to know Him, this is where the depth is but nearly everything in our culture, even in most churches, we are bombarded by "doing" to know Him, not "being still" to know Him. We are constantly invited to read, listen to radio programs, CD's and podcast, watch television to learn; a constant cacophony of good ideas and words but do we take time for stillness? We neglect it to our own peril.
Do we listen for His voice? He chooses to use a still, small voice so that we have to stop in stillness and faith to listen with our hearts. Be still and know that I am God. There is a bit of urgency to it. Shut it all off, find 10 minutes alone, let the distractions fall away and listen, He will speak.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Quick Fix
Yesterday I got in the holybluemazdapickup to drive home, tuned in to the traffic report to hear my main route home was blocked by a major accident. Essentially all freeway routes were parking lots. I routed in my mind a long surface route home and proceeded on my way. Half way home my wife called. Our daughter had just called her, sobbing, at the end of a tenuous emotional rope with her ongoing job search. Frustrated and beat down by the continuing weight of interviews apparently gone well, the hope of interviewers words of "We will call you by such and such day or week", and her phone remaining mute; crushed hope had brought her to sobs.
My long simmering frustration for my daughter broke out in me a rage. I, alone in my prolonged commute, spoke out in sharp angry prayer, "What is this all about? Did you make a mistake with my daughter? Why is nothing going well for her? Is she being punished because I screwed up as a father during her formative years?" My actual words were sharper, but you get the idea.
It does not compare well; my frustration and anger of yesterday's drive home and a later outburst in a post on Facebook (now deleted) and the lingering low-grade infection of anger I still feel this morning, but I taste a tiny bit of Job. He'd lost so much more than I can even imagine and he had no clue of an enemy out to destroy him because he was adored by God. But I understand the feeling of being half-drunk with rage and God being the only one who would know, listen, understand and, while feeling the heat of the anger, would not abandon.
Job's friends did their best ministry in their initial silence. Companionship, offered in silence at first, spoke more deeply than their pre-supposed arguments made in feeble yet verbose attempts at fixing Job. It is that part of the story I understand, the need to simply be heard.
I was mad, angry yesterday at God. My daughter's efforts to secure employment have been soundly thwarted. It is a fog of dis-understanding that our little family sits in right now. There are no apparent fixes to her immediate need and the crush that threatens her. As a father, I am angry at this.
I am not done though. I have several friends who have proved to be true, six "virtual" friends scattered across the country and one local. True to me because they have read and heard previous rantings when I've felt crushed and pressed down by my own personal struggles. They offered no words, no rush to fix me. Rather, they sat in silent trust with and for me. Trust in Abba's steadfastness when I could not. They themselves may not have had answers but were willing to sit by the side of the road with me as I returned my voice to the prayer, "Abba, have mercy. I am a sinner. I need you."
These friends, they know who they are, offer simple companionship. They may not think they offer much, but they do. Their lack of assumption of words to fix my angry questions does more to heal than quickly spoken fixes. They know there are no quick fixes at times. This is the tiniest bit of truth I see this morning as I think of the seminal story of Job.
My long simmering frustration for my daughter broke out in me a rage. I, alone in my prolonged commute, spoke out in sharp angry prayer, "What is this all about? Did you make a mistake with my daughter? Why is nothing going well for her? Is she being punished because I screwed up as a father during her formative years?" My actual words were sharper, but you get the idea.
It does not compare well; my frustration and anger of yesterday's drive home and a later outburst in a post on Facebook (now deleted) and the lingering low-grade infection of anger I still feel this morning, but I taste a tiny bit of Job. He'd lost so much more than I can even imagine and he had no clue of an enemy out to destroy him because he was adored by God. But I understand the feeling of being half-drunk with rage and God being the only one who would know, listen, understand and, while feeling the heat of the anger, would not abandon.
Job's friends did their best ministry in their initial silence. Companionship, offered in silence at first, spoke more deeply than their pre-supposed arguments made in feeble yet verbose attempts at fixing Job. It is that part of the story I understand, the need to simply be heard.
I was mad, angry yesterday at God. My daughter's efforts to secure employment have been soundly thwarted. It is a fog of dis-understanding that our little family sits in right now. There are no apparent fixes to her immediate need and the crush that threatens her. As a father, I am angry at this.
I am not done though. I have several friends who have proved to be true, six "virtual" friends scattered across the country and one local. True to me because they have read and heard previous rantings when I've felt crushed and pressed down by my own personal struggles. They offered no words, no rush to fix me. Rather, they sat in silent trust with and for me. Trust in Abba's steadfastness when I could not. They themselves may not have had answers but were willing to sit by the side of the road with me as I returned my voice to the prayer, "Abba, have mercy. I am a sinner. I need you."
These friends, they know who they are, offer simple companionship. They may not think they offer much, but they do. Their lack of assumption of words to fix my angry questions does more to heal than quickly spoken fixes. They know there are no quick fixes at times. This is the tiniest bit of truth I see this morning as I think of the seminal story of Job.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Owner's Manual
In the glove compartment of my holybluemazdapickup is a little book. Its the owner's manual. I've consulted it a few times, finding proper jack points when I've had a flat tire and a few consultations of the fuse schematic when I've encountered minor electrical problems.
I've consulted the owner's manual for my other vehicle, a '97 Dodge Caravan. I wanted to change the air filter and I couldn't find it. I know, I sound fairly inept when it comes to my vehicles. In spite of the fact my dad and now my son were and are mechanics, I have little interest in what happens beneath the hood. Changing an air filter ought to be in the owner's manual, right? Wrong! Tim, my mechanic will have to show me one of these days.
My times with either owner's manuals is "need-driven". Curling up by a fire with a vehicle owner's manual is not my idea of a good read. Perhaps some would think that, but not I.
Some time ago, while still serving on the Elder Board at my church, one of my fellow elders was bemoaning how little time folk spend in the Scriptures. He said something like this, "After all, its the owner's manual". Something in me cringed. The statement, while correct to some extent, falls wildly short. Its almost like saying the ice berg that sank the Titanic was an ice cube.
Staying with that view of scripture denigrates the scope of what Abba has to say. It can't remain a mere "owners manual" if one is to come to know the author. It is so much more. History, law, ethics, passion are found in those pages. For me, I see it as a love letter, God's heart and the starting point of finding His voice as He desires us to hear Him in our hearts.
I am a fairly intelligent person. For the longest time I thought, whenever I would have those "Aha" moments of understanding, that it was a function of my intellect. That notion came to an abrupt end when I stumbled upon the little phrase Paul used in Ephesians 3, "the unsearchable riches of Christ". It brought me up short, humbling actually.
Unsearchable. If the riches of Christ are unsearchable then they need to be revealed; revealed by the Counselor sent, the Holy Spirit. Now I don't mean to infer study is not commendable. Scripture teaches us to study but those "Aha" moments are His voice speaking. I no longer see my intellect as the agent of understanding but rather the Holy Spirit, God's very voice gently speaking. It really is remarkable and has made Scripture come alive, become the love letter its intended to be.
Where to start? It may seem a ponderous tome staring back at you with a whisper of accusation, "You really need to spend some time in me". If you find yourself at that point, I suggest you start with the Psalms. There is so much honest passion in those pages. Most are written by David, a man after God's own heart. He was a deeply flawed man and yet honest in his dealing with Abba. Read, listening with your heart.
Another place to start is the Gospel (good news) of John. Jesus, the Word made flesh, comes alive in that narrative. Listen, don't just read, His questions to those he rubbed shoulders with. It's awe inspiring to listen to His words and stories.
To quote a distant acquaintance of mine, "Listen on, listen well".
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Delight
Five years ago this month, I attended my first men's retreat. I flew to Colorado by myself to gather with over 400 other men to attend a Boot Camp put on by Ransomed Heart Ministries out of Colorado Springs. High in the Rocky Mountains God spoke deeply to me. It was a life-changing weekend.
Late that Friday afternoon we all gathered to hear John Eldredge speak for the afternoon session. I was sitting with three other men I'd met about five rows up from the main floor. Early in his talk John asked the question, "Did your father delight in you?" Instantly I felt burning hot anger rise from my toes to the top of my head. I felt like I was going to explode. For a few minutes I tried to remain seated but I couldn't, I nearly ran up the shallow steps to exit right in the middle of the talk. I exploded out the entrance doors and was hit with a blast of icy air. It cooled my anger but I was left with the question, "Did Dad delight in me?"
Sadly my answer was I didn't know. Dad wasn't a mean or harsh man, he simply was removed, detached and unengaged. I never knew what he thought of me, the odd boy he'd been given. I will never know as Dad has been gone for over 11 years now.
Delight. I'd spent some time pondering that word off and on the previous year, specifically as it is used in Psalm 18. That Psalm paints a vivid picture of God's fierce anger as He rescues one He delights in. The word had bitten deeply into me and, I confess, was painful. I'd mostly gotten through the first 50 years of my life with the sense I was tolerated, not delighted in by God and others. As I pondered that word I sensed His still, small voice asking me to allow Him in, to delight in me and show me He counted me worthy to delight in.
Delight. Do you know the Father, our Abba, delights in you?
Late that Friday afternoon we all gathered to hear John Eldredge speak for the afternoon session. I was sitting with three other men I'd met about five rows up from the main floor. Early in his talk John asked the question, "Did your father delight in you?" Instantly I felt burning hot anger rise from my toes to the top of my head. I felt like I was going to explode. For a few minutes I tried to remain seated but I couldn't, I nearly ran up the shallow steps to exit right in the middle of the talk. I exploded out the entrance doors and was hit with a blast of icy air. It cooled my anger but I was left with the question, "Did Dad delight in me?"
Sadly my answer was I didn't know. Dad wasn't a mean or harsh man, he simply was removed, detached and unengaged. I never knew what he thought of me, the odd boy he'd been given. I will never know as Dad has been gone for over 11 years now.
Delight. I'd spent some time pondering that word off and on the previous year, specifically as it is used in Psalm 18. That Psalm paints a vivid picture of God's fierce anger as He rescues one He delights in. The word had bitten deeply into me and, I confess, was painful. I'd mostly gotten through the first 50 years of my life with the sense I was tolerated, not delighted in by God and others. As I pondered that word I sensed His still, small voice asking me to allow Him in, to delight in me and show me He counted me worthy to delight in.
Delight. Do you know the Father, our Abba, delights in you?
Zephaniah 3:17 says:
The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.
The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.
In His delight, listen for his voice, singing.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Belt
I don't have much of a butt. My dad didn't and as I recall neither of my grandfathers did as well. I suspect I come from a long line of "buttless" men. If I don't wear a belt I'm in trouble all day with my pants threatening a calamitous slide every few steps. No matter how well my pants fit, they will want to succumb to the pull of gravity with ease due to my "buttless" posterior. I NEED a belt, it is not a fashion statement.
No wonder Paul, in describing the Armor of God starts with a belt, the Belt of Truth. I am concerned though about where this desire for truth we have as part of our God-image-ness leads some. The Westboro Church of Wichita Kansas is planning on protesting the nine year old's funeral in Arizona. Harold Camping of Family Radio is buying billboard space in his radio markets proclaiming Jesus' return on May 21, 2011. I've know several folk so enamored by their ability to discern truth that they've become self-appointed "truth keepers" easily correcting others. There is a danger when our pride intermingles with out desire to know truth.
Since truth, the Belt of Truth, is so pivotal if we are to put on the full Armor of God, we need to keep in mind the basics of what might be intended regarding this belt. I think of three fundamental yet broad areas; the truth of who God is, the truth of who He says I am, the truth of who our enemy, Satan, is.
These are broad, general areas that have been written about for thousands of years and it is not my purpose to expound at any length here. What I do want to say is this; the more I learn, the more I discover, the more I live with the author of all truth, the more I am convinced at how little I really know. Paul's little phrase in Ephesians 3:8 "the unsearchable riches of Christ" brings me up short when I think I am "arriving". These riches, these truths are revealed. There is a mystery and wonder in knowing Him and the truth He leads me to that helps to keep deadly pride in check.
I am also reminded that it is not our correctness, our rightness about theology that leads others to Christ. Bashing others with truth rarely brings about the result intended. It is love. Jesus was pretty clear about that in His last talk before His arrest as recorded in John 14-17. The question for me then becomes, what do I do with the truth He's given me?
As I put on the belt, I am humbled by His example, by His words, by His love. I am humbled by how little I really know and how much I need Him to reveal truth to me.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Refuge
This has been a tiring season - not the holidays just past, the season of caregiving I've found myself in. On December 3rd my 87 year old mother fell in her home and suffered several compression fractures of her spine and a fractured elbow. After two hospital stays and a couple of weeks in a convalescent hospital she was released to go home on December 29th.
My mother is a difficult person. I am the middle child of three widely spaced children, my older sister was 16 when my younger sister was born and I am smack dab in the middle. I learned the safest place in our emotionally charged home was to retreat, be as invisible as possible, stay under mom's radar and shield myself at all times. It became second nature.
As I've grown older I learned (perhaps too slowly) to let much of those coping mechanisms fall by the wayside except whenever I am in my mom's presence. The problem now is with mom's pressing needs in recovery, I am with her very often. Due to geography and other factors, my wife and I are the only family members available to deal with mom's pressing needs. I've resurrected much of the old coping mechanisms and I've found myself very tired from the effort. Tired in all aspects; physical, mental, emotional and spiritual. I need a place of refuge.
There are many passages in Scripture Abba could use to offer refuge. My mind easily goes to many of them but He has led me to the passage in Ephesians 6 - the armor of God. Often in these days I have intentionally put them on as Paul instructs Christ-followers to do: belt of truth, breastplate of righteousness, feet fitted with the gospel of peace, helmet of salvation, shield of faith, sword of His word.
As I have done this I have found refuge, a place to rest. Until this season of caregiving, I'd only thought of this armor as pieces associated with the warfare we are all in as Christ-followers. While this is still true, the idea of "refuge" had escaped me. Think of it though, what better refuge than to be clothed with Christ? What better way to be clothed than with His armor? Every piece of it is Christ's, provided for our protection, tailor made to fit perfectly for our needs. Each piece fits me perfectly and is not a burden. They are, in some sense, part of the easy yoke Jesus spoke of in Matthew 11:28 & 29. I have found rest as I loosen my grip on old coping mechanisms and put on Christ.
My mother is a difficult person. I am the middle child of three widely spaced children, my older sister was 16 when my younger sister was born and I am smack dab in the middle. I learned the safest place in our emotionally charged home was to retreat, be as invisible as possible, stay under mom's radar and shield myself at all times. It became second nature.
As I've grown older I learned (perhaps too slowly) to let much of those coping mechanisms fall by the wayside except whenever I am in my mom's presence. The problem now is with mom's pressing needs in recovery, I am with her very often. Due to geography and other factors, my wife and I are the only family members available to deal with mom's pressing needs. I've resurrected much of the old coping mechanisms and I've found myself very tired from the effort. Tired in all aspects; physical, mental, emotional and spiritual. I need a place of refuge.
There are many passages in Scripture Abba could use to offer refuge. My mind easily goes to many of them but He has led me to the passage in Ephesians 6 - the armor of God. Often in these days I have intentionally put them on as Paul instructs Christ-followers to do: belt of truth, breastplate of righteousness, feet fitted with the gospel of peace, helmet of salvation, shield of faith, sword of His word.
As I have done this I have found refuge, a place to rest. Until this season of caregiving, I'd only thought of this armor as pieces associated with the warfare we are all in as Christ-followers. While this is still true, the idea of "refuge" had escaped me. Think of it though, what better refuge than to be clothed with Christ? What better way to be clothed than with His armor? Every piece of it is Christ's, provided for our protection, tailor made to fit perfectly for our needs. Each piece fits me perfectly and is not a burden. They are, in some sense, part of the easy yoke Jesus spoke of in Matthew 11:28 & 29. I have found rest as I loosen my grip on old coping mechanisms and put on Christ.
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