Today is Christmas Eve. My thoughts are a bit jumbled but I still want to write something here.
I have thought off and on about my own birth. There is a picture of my mother a couple of weeks before I was born. Her sister Norma and her husband Bill along with their two children have gathered at their parent's home in Nevada City. The picture shows my mom hugely ready to be done with this pregnancy, a pregnancy that was a bit of a surprise. After the birth of my older sister my folks wanted another but after some years they gave up, got rid of the baby furniture and moved on with their life. As my mother would tell it, by the time she found a doctor that would agree she was pregnant they had moved from Madera to Grass Valley and was told she would have a baby in the summer of 1953.
July 3rd, 1953, Jones Hospital was where I made my entrance, an entrance complicated by my insistence on arriving butt first that necessitated a C section for safe delivery. The hospital was an old Victorian house built in the 1860's and converted into a hospital in 1907. It presently is a bed and breakfast. My younger sister was born there in 1962, I spent several days there after breaking some bones in one of my feet and I had my tonsils out there. It was a full functioning hospital allbeit somewhat unorthodox.
So there I was this newborn with big hands and a big nose that caused my mom to giggle. Did she wonder what I was to become? Newborns always cause me to think about what the future holds for the tiny, yet complete human being. I know I had those thoughts when my two children entered, Abigail with big brown eyes taking it all in and Charlie with a full head of straight up brown hair who was ready to eat.
Much is made of another birth so long ago, a birth complicated by a suspect beginning, a census ordered by a man 1400 miles away and a tiny village unprepared for the inflow of visitors so that no decent room could be had for the birth of a baby that would change my life 2000 years later. While I was born in a huge house that was nearly 100 years old, the Son of God made his earthly appearance in a cave, a stable more suited for animals. Jesus' birth was attended by his teenage mother and a faithful man whose skills in child-birthing were probably next to nothing. Somehow it all worked out and before long the only folk interested in seeing this new-born were a bunch of ill-kept shepherds who'd received a very special invitation to viewing the baby, the messiah.
As I think about what it might have been like I am reminded of a phrase from "O Little Town of Bethlehem", The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight. These words, published in 1868, capture for me a bit of the awe and wonder that Christmas Eve holds for me. It was a tall order for that newborn laying in a stone-hewn manger but, in time, we can see He was up to the task. I can lay all my hopes and fears right there in my feeble understanding of what it might have been for Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus.
Oh but there is so much more that we can have if we just believe. It is faith that unlocks some of the secrets and mysteries this man Jesus would talk about. If we fast forward, as Scripture does, we will find words and actions of a man so unique in history that we can only bow in awe and wonder, if we believe.
So I am sitting here and thinking about the gifts I've received through believing Jesus was the Son of God. There are so many but I am reminded He told his main group of guys on the night before He died that He was One with the Father and that we are in Him and He is in us. That right there takes my breath away. This little babe was to provide a way for us to become new creatures sitting with Him, our elder brother, alongside the Father on His right side. He offers abundant life and enables us, through the giving of a new heart, the ability to listen in and hear our Father speak to us. This babe, the light of the world and the Word made flesh came to rescue us from darkness. "The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned" (Isaiah 9:2).
It is this light I celebrate at the close of a glorious Advent Season.
Saturday, December 24, 2016
Saturday, December 17, 2016
Advent IV
A year ago next Saturday, Christmas Eve, my father-in-law, Ken Dolan, passed into his eternal home. The next day my wife and her three sisters sat at our Christmas table stunned. There were words and we all made the best of it but it felt surreal. Something very real had occurred but we all were cushioned by disbelief from the reality he was gone. I say "cushioned" because grief has its own way of unfolding and disbelief is the first reaction, the first experience of loss that allows our hearts to haltingly prepare for the waves of pain to come.
Six days later my wife would have knee replacement surgery and her care overruled most thoughts of the loss of Dad. We were able to get her to his memorial service 10 days after her surgery but those days are such a haze now, nearly a year later.
Seven months and two days later, my mother also went home. It was the day after her 93rd birthday. After a whirlwind weekend with the addition of Monday to the weekend, we made all the confusing steps of an ER visit with my mom, finding a new care facility for her to live in with her new frailties, moving in the few things she would need and moving her out of her apartment that Monday, I received a call that Tuesday from the caregiver telling me she was gone. My mind raced with all the upcoming details as I drove home. My two kids met me at home and the three of us moved mom's things out of the room she'd only occupied since the previous Saturday afternoon.
That afternoon I sat at home alone. Dazed. I thought we would have a couple more weeks.
So here I am, wanting to write something "adventy" but memories of long ago Christmases have knocked me sideways. From my perspective, Christmas was one of two times a year when Mom was relatively happy and content so I have a small collection of good memories. Remembering does carry its own pain, however. Dad has been gone since 1999. My older sister, Carla, has opted out of the family by disappearing. We had one 20 minute phone conversation in April but since then her phone is disconnected and I have no address for her. This leaves my younger sister Elizabeth and I to be the sole heirs of these memories. They are all I have of that home we five were together in on Lime Kiln Road. This is how this works.
Christmas is thorny for us this year. Memories will push and prod and poke. I will smile at some memories and others will cause the grief of loss of these two important people in my life to cause me to weep tears. I suspect I have company in this season. Everyone has lost a loved one and Christmas causes old memories to stir and surface to once again be looked at. Smiles will be mingled with tears.
But it is Advent, the birth of love, light and our personal salvation into the Heavenly Kingdom. While His birth was noticed by only a few here on earth, a tsunami of change swept the Heavenly Kingdom that holy night. We who believe in Him have been adopted into the Father's household, we are new creatures, the sons and daughters at Abba's table. This hope, this healing love is what I also have during this glorious season of Advent.
Six days later my wife would have knee replacement surgery and her care overruled most thoughts of the loss of Dad. We were able to get her to his memorial service 10 days after her surgery but those days are such a haze now, nearly a year later.
Seven months and two days later, my mother also went home. It was the day after her 93rd birthday. After a whirlwind weekend with the addition of Monday to the weekend, we made all the confusing steps of an ER visit with my mom, finding a new care facility for her to live in with her new frailties, moving in the few things she would need and moving her out of her apartment that Monday, I received a call that Tuesday from the caregiver telling me she was gone. My mind raced with all the upcoming details as I drove home. My two kids met me at home and the three of us moved mom's things out of the room she'd only occupied since the previous Saturday afternoon.
That afternoon I sat at home alone. Dazed. I thought we would have a couple more weeks.
So here I am, wanting to write something "adventy" but memories of long ago Christmases have knocked me sideways. From my perspective, Christmas was one of two times a year when Mom was relatively happy and content so I have a small collection of good memories. Remembering does carry its own pain, however. Dad has been gone since 1999. My older sister, Carla, has opted out of the family by disappearing. We had one 20 minute phone conversation in April but since then her phone is disconnected and I have no address for her. This leaves my younger sister Elizabeth and I to be the sole heirs of these memories. They are all I have of that home we five were together in on Lime Kiln Road. This is how this works.
Christmas is thorny for us this year. Memories will push and prod and poke. I will smile at some memories and others will cause the grief of loss of these two important people in my life to cause me to weep tears. I suspect I have company in this season. Everyone has lost a loved one and Christmas causes old memories to stir and surface to once again be looked at. Smiles will be mingled with tears.
But it is Advent, the birth of love, light and our personal salvation into the Heavenly Kingdom. While His birth was noticed by only a few here on earth, a tsunami of change swept the Heavenly Kingdom that holy night. We who believe in Him have been adopted into the Father's household, we are new creatures, the sons and daughters at Abba's table. This hope, this healing love is what I also have during this glorious season of Advent.
Monday, December 12, 2016
Advent III
Shepherds. We know the story. They are in the fields and are startled by angelic beings telling them of the birth of Jesus, who He was and were to find Him. Frankly, it is such an old story we might miss the wonder of these guys getting the news first. Several years ago I learned that being a shepherd meant being perpetually "unclean" in terms of Jewish custom. Their livelihood meant they could never be "clean" and therefore were outside of the culture. Those that are unclean are first told of the birth. Pretty amazing to me. It speaks volumes to me about who Jesus came for.
I also find it interesting that they not only went to Bethlehem and saw the tiny infant exactly as told to them, but they also went and told all who would listen of what they had heard and seen that night. Unfortunately, we have no record that anyone really listened and also went to find this babe. That speaks to me as well. Perhaps folk were just too wrapped up in their own lives for them to be bothered with a baby in a stable. More likely they would not really listen to this group of dirty shepherds.
I also am in awe that later Jesus would declare Himself the Good Shepherd. Eventually He would bear our uncleanliness though He Himself was spotless. Oh my, what a glorious thought that ties to that first group to be told of His lowly birth.
The Wise Men, probably many in number, are foreigners from the east, we are told. They see something in the sky that seems to tell them something important has happened, the birth of a king they surmise. We really can't be sure why they come to that conclusion. There are those, much smarter than I, that have good ideas but, for me, the bottom line is these are foreigners who come a long way to worship. Foreigners who are outsiders looking in to the wonder of this child.
They've seen something inexplicable in the sky and follow it, first to Jerusalem where they ask around and end up talking to Herod. Then this star leads them southward to Bethlehem from Jerusalem. My pastor a couple of weeks ago pointed out the inexplicable nature of a star first leading westward then leading them southward. I don't think there is a logical explanation for this odd turn that defies astrophysics. More simply, God wanted them to find the child and used their "language", that of the lights in the night sky, to communicate to them and they listened and acted. Isn't it odd that no one else thought anything of this light in the night sky? I do. Were folk so caught up in their own small stories that they couldn't see the light and wonder? Evidently not. Noting a light like this and wondering at it's meaning requires some embrace of mystery and a willingness to step into a larger story.
I also find it interesting that they heed a warning that comes to them in a dream. This too speaks of an embrace of mystery. How many of us would consider a dream and see it as a warning? It takes some deep wisdom to seriously consider dreams a means of revelation. These guys seem to have this wisdom.
Foreigners and dirty shepherds seem to be the only ones who would recognize something important had occurred. But then there are two others who are intertwined in the story and also see, through faith, God's provision in this babe.
Simeon and Anna, at the temple when Joseph and Mary bring Jesus to the temple are two who simply know. These two appear to represent the faithful who Jesus came for as well as the foreigners and the shepherds. Even those that are faithful have a need for what Jesus will offer in His life, death, resurrection and ascension. The full work of Jesus, started in a stable is for all.
But I've jumped ahead. For now we have so few who would stop and listen to the gentle whisper found in their hearts for it is in our hearts we must learn to hear those herald angels saying, "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace and goodwill towards men".
I also find it interesting that they not only went to Bethlehem and saw the tiny infant exactly as told to them, but they also went and told all who would listen of what they had heard and seen that night. Unfortunately, we have no record that anyone really listened and also went to find this babe. That speaks to me as well. Perhaps folk were just too wrapped up in their own lives for them to be bothered with a baby in a stable. More likely they would not really listen to this group of dirty shepherds.
I also am in awe that later Jesus would declare Himself the Good Shepherd. Eventually He would bear our uncleanliness though He Himself was spotless. Oh my, what a glorious thought that ties to that first group to be told of His lowly birth.
The Wise Men, probably many in number, are foreigners from the east, we are told. They see something in the sky that seems to tell them something important has happened, the birth of a king they surmise. We really can't be sure why they come to that conclusion. There are those, much smarter than I, that have good ideas but, for me, the bottom line is these are foreigners who come a long way to worship. Foreigners who are outsiders looking in to the wonder of this child.
They've seen something inexplicable in the sky and follow it, first to Jerusalem where they ask around and end up talking to Herod. Then this star leads them southward to Bethlehem from Jerusalem. My pastor a couple of weeks ago pointed out the inexplicable nature of a star first leading westward then leading them southward. I don't think there is a logical explanation for this odd turn that defies astrophysics. More simply, God wanted them to find the child and used their "language", that of the lights in the night sky, to communicate to them and they listened and acted. Isn't it odd that no one else thought anything of this light in the night sky? I do. Were folk so caught up in their own small stories that they couldn't see the light and wonder? Evidently not. Noting a light like this and wondering at it's meaning requires some embrace of mystery and a willingness to step into a larger story.
I also find it interesting that they heed a warning that comes to them in a dream. This too speaks of an embrace of mystery. How many of us would consider a dream and see it as a warning? It takes some deep wisdom to seriously consider dreams a means of revelation. These guys seem to have this wisdom.
Foreigners and dirty shepherds seem to be the only ones who would recognize something important had occurred. But then there are two others who are intertwined in the story and also see, through faith, God's provision in this babe.
Simeon and Anna, at the temple when Joseph and Mary bring Jesus to the temple are two who simply know. These two appear to represent the faithful who Jesus came for as well as the foreigners and the shepherds. Even those that are faithful have a need for what Jesus will offer in His life, death, resurrection and ascension. The full work of Jesus, started in a stable is for all.
But I've jumped ahead. For now we have so few who would stop and listen to the gentle whisper found in their hearts for it is in our hearts we must learn to hear those herald angels saying, "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace and goodwill towards men".
Monday, December 5, 2016
Advent II
You're serving your time in Jerusalem as a priest, probably the last time you will have this opportunity as you are now in the later season of life. You fully expect to go home shortly when your time is finished to your beloved wife. The two of you have done all you could to follow after God in spite of the great disappointment in your life, you've had no children and you are both well past the time for this. For you it is a lonely ache but you know for Elizabeth it has been a disgrace she's borne with great dignity. You really are ready to go home.
The day comes and you are chosen by lot to be the priest to offer the annual sacrifice for sin. You are honored as you thought you would never have the opportunity to do this. Few ever have this honor. This has to feel like the "pinnacle" of your priestly life, your whole life, and you vow to fulfill the duties with all the humility and honor the task demands. After this act, you think your life is over, fulfilled as fully as possible.
Oh but God has other plans and frankly I think He must have laughed a bit about what was coming to Zechariah and Elizabeth, two people too old for what was coming. I also have no problem understanding Zechariah's response to Gabriel's announcement, I think I would have responded similarly. I am probably close to the age he was when told he's going to have a son. He couldn't possibly imagine such a thing would come to his lonely household so he questioned the announcement.
I am also amused that he is struck silent until John is born. He now had plenty of time to contemplate how very different his life would become, thoughts only heard by God. Perhaps his first month was a silent bargaining with God until he finally came to rest and nestle into a silent initmacy with this God he'd served his entire life.
When the day finally arrived that this baby boy was to be named his tongue is finally loosened and out flows confirmation of John's name and a prophecy over his son that rings through to this day.
He thought his life would be over after the "pinnacle" of being chosen that day to offer the sacrifice but God had another idea, another life to come from those two, Elizabeth and Zechariah.
I identify with this man in so many ways. I've had days when I felt I'd squandered too many years, stumbled along with a job that really was no "career" with little satisfaction; that I'd contributed little to the Kingdom. But just as a new life was to flow from Elizabeth and Zechariah, we are offered a new life as well. For me that is part of Christmas, God with us.
This "God with us" means my life is fused with His. My days, no matter how many I have, begin in a manger in a cave-barn. I am once again swept into the deep mystery of God bundled in a baby and my life beginning again this Advent season.
The day comes and you are chosen by lot to be the priest to offer the annual sacrifice for sin. You are honored as you thought you would never have the opportunity to do this. Few ever have this honor. This has to feel like the "pinnacle" of your priestly life, your whole life, and you vow to fulfill the duties with all the humility and honor the task demands. After this act, you think your life is over, fulfilled as fully as possible.
Oh but God has other plans and frankly I think He must have laughed a bit about what was coming to Zechariah and Elizabeth, two people too old for what was coming. I also have no problem understanding Zechariah's response to Gabriel's announcement, I think I would have responded similarly. I am probably close to the age he was when told he's going to have a son. He couldn't possibly imagine such a thing would come to his lonely household so he questioned the announcement.
I am also amused that he is struck silent until John is born. He now had plenty of time to contemplate how very different his life would become, thoughts only heard by God. Perhaps his first month was a silent bargaining with God until he finally came to rest and nestle into a silent initmacy with this God he'd served his entire life.
When the day finally arrived that this baby boy was to be named his tongue is finally loosened and out flows confirmation of John's name and a prophecy over his son that rings through to this day.
He thought his life would be over after the "pinnacle" of being chosen that day to offer the sacrifice but God had another idea, another life to come from those two, Elizabeth and Zechariah.
I identify with this man in so many ways. I've had days when I felt I'd squandered too many years, stumbled along with a job that really was no "career" with little satisfaction; that I'd contributed little to the Kingdom. But just as a new life was to flow from Elizabeth and Zechariah, we are offered a new life as well. For me that is part of Christmas, God with us.
This "God with us" means my life is fused with His. My days, no matter how many I have, begin in a manger in a cave-barn. I am once again swept into the deep mystery of God bundled in a baby and my life beginning again this Advent season.
Monday, November 28, 2016
Advent I
I didn't grow up in a tradition of "Advent". We simply had Christmas. I think I was first introduced to this term during our years at First Covenant in San Francisco and it certainly was a word used during our years in Minnesota at our Evangelical Free church. For the first years at our present church it was not mentioned nor emphasized often but in the last several years, perhaps 10, it was emphasized to various degrees.
In my mind there is a subtle but significant difference. Christmas feels like a day whereas Advent implies season. Certainly "Christmas" can imply a season but the youthful places in my heart remember the run-up to the big day and the let down of December 26th. I am now more inclined to embrace Advent so as to enjoy the entire four week period from yesterday; the first Sunday of Advent, until December 25th.
This is why I was saddened yesterday at my home church's complete retreat from "Advent". No lighting of the first candle, no reading of the first passage, not even a mention. Frankly, I had forgotten it was the first Sunday of Advent until I was driving home and it hit me, no Advent.
While I am disappointed at this turn of event, I do know this, nothing stops me from embracing personally the Advent season, with or without a corporate acknowledgment on the part of my church home. I've decided my celebration will happen here, at the keyboard as I reflect on some of the characters that play important roles in Advent.
There are two mothers, Elizabeth and Mary. Neither should have borne sons; Elizabeth due to age and Mary due to virginity. I have often been intrigued by Elizabeth and her story. Obviously, while I can't understand from experience the wonder she must have felt at this baby growing inside her, I can imagine how incredibly happy with wonder she must have felt. John's mother was a woman of deep wisdom that had grown through all the childless years. The hurt and disappointment she must have felt for years deepened something in her so that when Mary enters her home and her unborn baby leaps she instantly recognizes the magnitude of Mary's baby, "How is it that the mother of my Lord should come to me". It is the first record of declaration of Jesus' Lordship and all before He is even born. By faith, she simply knows.
Mary is another story, isn't she? We protestants make too little of her, nearly making her a footnote to the wonder and drama unfolding. In all probability she was a teenager. I don't think it is proper to make too many comparisons between teenagers of our culture and teenagers in Mary's culture but Gabriel's announcement that she is highly favored does indicate there is something special about this young woman. We quickly learn how special she is with her response, "I am the handmaiden of the Lord". Such submission, such faith. It should startle us at our core. She has only a glimpse of what she is agreeing to. No one will believe her story and she knows that will mean becoming an outcast. She will always have to cast her heart, soul and body into the hands of the unseen God she reveres.
Shortly after the birth of Jesus, she finds herself in Jerusalem, her baby swept up in the arms of an old man, Simeon. And it is then she is told a sword will pierce her heart. What teenager can bear such news? A young woman of faith.
I am also struck by one other note regarding Mary; she is the only person to know, without faith, she conceived as a virgin by the Holy Spirit. In some way, this sets her apart but does not mitigate what she would always endure for the rest if her life in that culture. Surely there were those that believed her but I am just as sure that most would not and would always look on her with whispered suspicions. It takes faith and strength beyond her years to be willing to walk that journey.
So, two mothers revolve around each other in the opening of this Advent season. Two women of deep faith in the goodness of God. They call me to ponder anew my own faith.
In my mind there is a subtle but significant difference. Christmas feels like a day whereas Advent implies season. Certainly "Christmas" can imply a season but the youthful places in my heart remember the run-up to the big day and the let down of December 26th. I am now more inclined to embrace Advent so as to enjoy the entire four week period from yesterday; the first Sunday of Advent, until December 25th.
This is why I was saddened yesterday at my home church's complete retreat from "Advent". No lighting of the first candle, no reading of the first passage, not even a mention. Frankly, I had forgotten it was the first Sunday of Advent until I was driving home and it hit me, no Advent.
While I am disappointed at this turn of event, I do know this, nothing stops me from embracing personally the Advent season, with or without a corporate acknowledgment on the part of my church home. I've decided my celebration will happen here, at the keyboard as I reflect on some of the characters that play important roles in Advent.
There are two mothers, Elizabeth and Mary. Neither should have borne sons; Elizabeth due to age and Mary due to virginity. I have often been intrigued by Elizabeth and her story. Obviously, while I can't understand from experience the wonder she must have felt at this baby growing inside her, I can imagine how incredibly happy with wonder she must have felt. John's mother was a woman of deep wisdom that had grown through all the childless years. The hurt and disappointment she must have felt for years deepened something in her so that when Mary enters her home and her unborn baby leaps she instantly recognizes the magnitude of Mary's baby, "How is it that the mother of my Lord should come to me". It is the first record of declaration of Jesus' Lordship and all before He is even born. By faith, she simply knows.
Mary is another story, isn't she? We protestants make too little of her, nearly making her a footnote to the wonder and drama unfolding. In all probability she was a teenager. I don't think it is proper to make too many comparisons between teenagers of our culture and teenagers in Mary's culture but Gabriel's announcement that she is highly favored does indicate there is something special about this young woman. We quickly learn how special she is with her response, "I am the handmaiden of the Lord". Such submission, such faith. It should startle us at our core. She has only a glimpse of what she is agreeing to. No one will believe her story and she knows that will mean becoming an outcast. She will always have to cast her heart, soul and body into the hands of the unseen God she reveres.
Shortly after the birth of Jesus, she finds herself in Jerusalem, her baby swept up in the arms of an old man, Simeon. And it is then she is told a sword will pierce her heart. What teenager can bear such news? A young woman of faith.
I am also struck by one other note regarding Mary; she is the only person to know, without faith, she conceived as a virgin by the Holy Spirit. In some way, this sets her apart but does not mitigate what she would always endure for the rest if her life in that culture. Surely there were those that believed her but I am just as sure that most would not and would always look on her with whispered suspicions. It takes faith and strength beyond her years to be willing to walk that journey.
So, two mothers revolve around each other in the opening of this Advent season. Two women of deep faith in the goodness of God. They call me to ponder anew my own faith.
Monday, November 21, 2016
Sleepless
Two weeks ago on Monday night I could not go to sleep. I finally ended up getting up after about three hours of fitful sleep. I remember because I could not shut down. On Monday evening I am usually outside with my dog Murphy and my computer and my Bible getting ready for the Bible study I lead on Tuesday mornings. Its a small group of men, six of us. We've been meeting for about seven years.
We are currently looking at the gospels, attempting to look at them all at once. I use a parallel website that puts the recorded events together so it is easier to look at the four gospels as a whole. Two weeks ago we started looking at the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew, chapters 5, 6 & 7. I'd spent that evening looking at the opening, the "blessed are's" that begin this magnificent discourse. I wrote out some thoughts about the different blesseds that are listed and found myself so caught up that I simply could not shut down when I went to bed.
I fear I will once again be unable to shut down tonight. Maybe writing here will help me, but I doubt it.
I keep thinking about the response recorded at the end of the discourse, the people were amazed at Jesus' teaching and His authority. I am putting myself in that place, sitting there and trying to "listen" as if I'd never heard these words before. Tonight I am caught up in His telling those gathered that we are salt and light. He tells us this right after turning their world upside down by telling them what is really important in the Kingdom of God - the opening "blesseds". They really did turn things upside down for those listening that day and still do when we lay alongside what He tells us is important in the Kingdom side by side to our own culture of what is important for success.
So now those hearing, both then and now, are salt and light. Wow! Not the theologically learned, not the professors in hallowed halls of learning, not those out doing the extraordinary, but the poor in spirit, those that mourn, those that are meek, those that hunger and thirst for righteousness, those that forgive, those that are peacemakers. It boggles my mind.
He then goes on to say He came not to abolish the law but to fulfill it. Then he gives example after example of ways we think we keep and obey the law only to hear how being angry at a brother is the equivalent of murder, that lust is adultery. The rest of the passage pins us to the wall with the choice of perfection or humble submission to what is to come, namely His righteousness indwelling me via the Holy Spirit given at second birth.
He completely turns their world, and our religious world upside down, if we but listen carefully.
Tonight, I am once again captured by Him, His clarity and mystery alongside His authority. Man, I just want to follow this guy. He's really something. I do fear though, that I will have a hard time shutting down to sleep.
We are currently looking at the gospels, attempting to look at them all at once. I use a parallel website that puts the recorded events together so it is easier to look at the four gospels as a whole. Two weeks ago we started looking at the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew, chapters 5, 6 & 7. I'd spent that evening looking at the opening, the "blessed are's" that begin this magnificent discourse. I wrote out some thoughts about the different blesseds that are listed and found myself so caught up that I simply could not shut down when I went to bed.
I fear I will once again be unable to shut down tonight. Maybe writing here will help me, but I doubt it.
I keep thinking about the response recorded at the end of the discourse, the people were amazed at Jesus' teaching and His authority. I am putting myself in that place, sitting there and trying to "listen" as if I'd never heard these words before. Tonight I am caught up in His telling those gathered that we are salt and light. He tells us this right after turning their world upside down by telling them what is really important in the Kingdom of God - the opening "blesseds". They really did turn things upside down for those listening that day and still do when we lay alongside what He tells us is important in the Kingdom side by side to our own culture of what is important for success.
So now those hearing, both then and now, are salt and light. Wow! Not the theologically learned, not the professors in hallowed halls of learning, not those out doing the extraordinary, but the poor in spirit, those that mourn, those that are meek, those that hunger and thirst for righteousness, those that forgive, those that are peacemakers. It boggles my mind.
He then goes on to say He came not to abolish the law but to fulfill it. Then he gives example after example of ways we think we keep and obey the law only to hear how being angry at a brother is the equivalent of murder, that lust is adultery. The rest of the passage pins us to the wall with the choice of perfection or humble submission to what is to come, namely His righteousness indwelling me via the Holy Spirit given at second birth.
He completely turns their world, and our religious world upside down, if we but listen carefully.
Tonight, I am once again captured by Him, His clarity and mystery alongside His authority. Man, I just want to follow this guy. He's really something. I do fear though, that I will have a hard time shutting down to sleep.
Sunday, November 13, 2016
Lap
I can't write easily with him on my lap. I am sitting on my front porch on a warm November afternoon and I can't write sitting off to the side so my lap is cocked off towards my left in such a way to accommodate my dog Murphy.
There, that is better. I put him down. You see, he is a Yorkshire Terrier, Shitzhu mix. The Yorkie in him causes Murphy to act like an idiot when someone comes to the door. His protective nature kicks in and he barks up a storm that causes my wife great consternation. The Shitzhu (forgive me if I am spelling this incorrectly) is another area that causes him to crave my lap. My understanding is that this breed was bred to sit on the Chinese Royal's lap. I sit outside here to do much thinking and studying for some of my commitments and it is here that I often choose to write here. He will be good off my lap for a period of time but then will start to whine and cry to come back up and sit a while. He simply needs some lap time from me. I can tell him "no" and he will, more often than not, accept my rebuff but eventually I will have to give in and let him leap up on my lap.
I've recently been thinking about this act of sitting on a lap. At 63 I am well past sitting on someone's lap but I recall fondly sitting on my father's lap when I was very little. Dad would let me sit on his lap while he read the local newspaper in the evening. Often our little black dog, Zeke, would join us. I felt safe and comforted.
I am also thinking of having my own children and now my grandson sit on my lap. It was a comfort to me as well as a comfort to them. Lap sitting is a very comforting and healthy place for little ones as they grow. Eventually though we grow too large for the laps we once occupied.
Please take a moment and think about your own experiences of lap-sitting. Hopefully you had those times of comfort and deep physical contact with a loved one and you can, with some effort, recall those feelings associated with lap-sitting.
My church family is looking at growing closer to God through a 4-part series of messages. There are many ways that we need to be intentional about if we are to grow close to our ever-present Abba and I am looking forward to hearing more of what is to come. I find it interesting that for about a month I've been thinking about my dog Murphy and his need for my lap and some of the spiritual implications of this need that I still carry as an adult. I've thought about writing here about this and this desire to write now coincides with this important series of messages.
While I am looking forward to hearing more, I am finding I need to approach this simply. I am reminded of a couple of things Jesus taught. First was His reiteration of the Great Commandment, to love God with our whole heart, mind and strength. The second thing that falls along side this reminder is His conviction that we need and have a Father, Abba and He longs to be our father. Jesus modeled well that relationship while on earth. Implied in this is our continued child-likeness that is needed, required in this relationship with Abba.
We grow physically and can no longer enjoy the comfort once had in the lap of a parent or grandparent but I think we still need to find some lap-sitting for our souls. We are children of the Most High and He has come to us, we are in Him and He is in us. Why not place ourselves in His lap? Why should we not recall our own memories of lap-sitting and ask God to become the parent He is and let the comfort of His presence enfold our souls as we recall the safety and comfort we once had with our earthly parents?
Let those memories come along side your God-given imagination and let yourself sit in His lap. It may feel a little silly or juvenile but if we are honest with ourselves, we may admit we long for that experience from time to time. For me, I find it easiest to find this comfortable posture when I am outside, especially when I am sheltered by a tree. Maybe a comfortable chair is a better place for some of you. The point is to say "yes" to God's invitation for intimacy and comfort with His presence. Take a moment and find some quiet and ask to sit in His loving embrace, His loving lap and see where He will take your soul.
Well, Murphy is getting insistent for my lap again. I've rebuffed him three or four times while writing this so I think I need to invite him back up.
There, that is better. I put him down. You see, he is a Yorkshire Terrier, Shitzhu mix. The Yorkie in him causes Murphy to act like an idiot when someone comes to the door. His protective nature kicks in and he barks up a storm that causes my wife great consternation. The Shitzhu (forgive me if I am spelling this incorrectly) is another area that causes him to crave my lap. My understanding is that this breed was bred to sit on the Chinese Royal's lap. I sit outside here to do much thinking and studying for some of my commitments and it is here that I often choose to write here. He will be good off my lap for a period of time but then will start to whine and cry to come back up and sit a while. He simply needs some lap time from me. I can tell him "no" and he will, more often than not, accept my rebuff but eventually I will have to give in and let him leap up on my lap.
I've recently been thinking about this act of sitting on a lap. At 63 I am well past sitting on someone's lap but I recall fondly sitting on my father's lap when I was very little. Dad would let me sit on his lap while he read the local newspaper in the evening. Often our little black dog, Zeke, would join us. I felt safe and comforted.
I am also thinking of having my own children and now my grandson sit on my lap. It was a comfort to me as well as a comfort to them. Lap sitting is a very comforting and healthy place for little ones as they grow. Eventually though we grow too large for the laps we once occupied.
Please take a moment and think about your own experiences of lap-sitting. Hopefully you had those times of comfort and deep physical contact with a loved one and you can, with some effort, recall those feelings associated with lap-sitting.
My church family is looking at growing closer to God through a 4-part series of messages. There are many ways that we need to be intentional about if we are to grow close to our ever-present Abba and I am looking forward to hearing more of what is to come. I find it interesting that for about a month I've been thinking about my dog Murphy and his need for my lap and some of the spiritual implications of this need that I still carry as an adult. I've thought about writing here about this and this desire to write now coincides with this important series of messages.
While I am looking forward to hearing more, I am finding I need to approach this simply. I am reminded of a couple of things Jesus taught. First was His reiteration of the Great Commandment, to love God with our whole heart, mind and strength. The second thing that falls along side this reminder is His conviction that we need and have a Father, Abba and He longs to be our father. Jesus modeled well that relationship while on earth. Implied in this is our continued child-likeness that is needed, required in this relationship with Abba.
We grow physically and can no longer enjoy the comfort once had in the lap of a parent or grandparent but I think we still need to find some lap-sitting for our souls. We are children of the Most High and He has come to us, we are in Him and He is in us. Why not place ourselves in His lap? Why should we not recall our own memories of lap-sitting and ask God to become the parent He is and let the comfort of His presence enfold our souls as we recall the safety and comfort we once had with our earthly parents?
Let those memories come along side your God-given imagination and let yourself sit in His lap. It may feel a little silly or juvenile but if we are honest with ourselves, we may admit we long for that experience from time to time. For me, I find it easiest to find this comfortable posture when I am outside, especially when I am sheltered by a tree. Maybe a comfortable chair is a better place for some of you. The point is to say "yes" to God's invitation for intimacy and comfort with His presence. Take a moment and find some quiet and ask to sit in His loving embrace, His loving lap and see where He will take your soul.
Well, Murphy is getting insistent for my lap again. I've rebuffed him three or four times while writing this so I think I need to invite him back up.
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