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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.