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.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
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".
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