Sin

I hate that word. In the more recent Biblical translations, difficult words have received a new coat of cultural paint. But not this word. It seems to have such an archaic, negative connotation. But I cannot think of another word for it. Sin.

I know there were ideas in the Bible that were a sign of the times. Epilepsy - believed to be a possession of demons. Blindness, not a disease but a direct result of some familial sin. Pre-dominant theology agrees that these were misdirected ideas. But what about sin. How do I know it was not misunderstood as well. Jesus' take on sin was definitely not the same as His Pauline counterpart. In fact, Jesus was much more forgiving of our sinful nature than the traditional church of today.

So where do we get our definition. Who sets the standard? Man the creation or God's Incarnation. Rules set by our books of church discipline or the Living Word. Who was the bad guy? According to Jesus, it was not the tax collector, Zaccheus, but the self-righteous Pharisee. And what about His take on the sin. The greater sin was not the woman caught in adultery, but that of those who set her up to be apprehended and stoned.

Perhaps sin is not an action but a chasm God reaches across to meet us. Is it not a thing but space? A chasm created when God created us. A space we must cross to touch Him. To see Him. To be like Him. Not our fault, but our obstacle. An obstacle that makes the journey interesting, difficult, and sometimes near impossible. But, oh my goodness. How it makes that moment of revelation, that epiphany of connection all the sweeter. Sin - the stone that causes us to stumble but also serves as our step stool. How bittersweet it is!

Be Thankful

In Philippians it says:

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything in prayer WITH THANKSGIVING, make your requests known and the peace that passes all understanding will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus

This is a scripture I turn to, time and again. I am a professional worrier. I am not kidding. If there could be a PHD in anxiety, I would hold it. I have been a student since I was a kid. My little brother was burned very badly in my presence when I was 8 and he was 6. Over half of his body, third degree burns. His clothes caught fire and as my mother tried to remove the burning clothes from his little body, I pulled burning furniture from the house and put out assorted fires within it. I became an adult that day. I became the mother to a one year old sister, and the unspoken matriarch of a family in the absence of my parents ability to care for both the horrendous two year ordeal of over 20 surgeries my little brother underwent and the trials, emotionally, spiritually, and financially that this brought to them and our family. Until this year some 40+ years later, did I realize, that was when I earned my degree in worry. I did not sign up for the course, it was thrust upon me and my life became a series of "continuing education" courses, either experienced personally or third person in the emotional and physical care of myself, close friend, and family that have gone through horrific experiences. I guess in a way, my anxiety was being fueled and fed, as I watched the worst nightmares realized in the lives of those I loved.

Each trial, loomed large and intense, because it the was the present one. It clouded my thoughts, my common sense, my energies, and fueled the already heightened anxiety I naturally had. But as I have grown older and hopefully wiser, mentally and spiritually, I have begun to look for the "blessing" sooner in the ordeal. It is like a child knowing there is a lollipop after the shot and after so many, you start looking for the lollipop before immediately afterwards. Then during. And finally even as it starts. Silly analogy, but it will have to do for now.

It is the thanksgiving that is the key. Sometimes, the small things we can find to be thankful for, are the only life preservers we have in this sea of pain and suffering. The key is to know the power gratitude has to keep us afloat. The key is to know it is His provision and His presence and His power that makes it possible.

Psalm II

Psalm II

O, my Father
Open my eyes to your beauty
My ears to your wisdom
My mouth to your praises
My heart to your mercy
My hands to your service

Imageo Dei

The Image of God...

What does it really mean? I know it is not physical, but what is it? Is it the image of Him that is only complete when it ignites with the Christ to be had? Is it the receptacle waiting for the blood of Christ to be dropped in so that redemption will spring forth like a sprig of green grass? Is it a key given to the potential, elected - the chosen one who will one day by chance or ordinance be accepted into the exclusive fellowship of believers?

We are all made in the image of God. What part of "all" do we not understand? Perhaps the image is an opaque glass container in which sits a beautifuly white candle. Both are visible and recognizable. But when the wick is lit on the candle, the beauty is breathtaking. It is no longer a receptacle with waxed wick. No. It is transformed by the touch of the fire.

Perhaps that is what it is all about. Am I the "Christ" that He wishes me to share? Not some theological dissertation or restricted fellowship. Not a clique or sect or denomination. I have been lit for the reason of illumination. Is it the Christ in me, not the Christ in my Bible or in my sanctuary that is so hard to believe but so necessary to do so?

Is the perfection we aim for the very thing the world cannot believe or cannot draw close to? Hmmm....

A Promise

I am lying in bed next to my husband. It is 2 AM and he has had a rough week. In addition to ongoing medical and financial issues, he is suffering a stomach virus. This illness is a drop in the bucket in comparison to what he is going through. But this is the proverbial " straw that broke the camel's back". Through the years, he and I have found comfort in tough times, by my reading scripture out loud. I have been doing that and he asks that I find the words to his favorite hymn. I do and start to read them to him:

Hymn of Promise by Natalie Sleeth

In the bulb there is a flower; in the seed, an apple tree;
In cocoons, a hidden promise: butterflies will soon be free!
In the cold and snow of winter there’s a spring that waits to be,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

There’s a song in every silence, seeking word and melody;
There’s a dawn in every darkness, bringing hope to you and me.
From the past will come the future; what it holds, a mystery,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

In our end is our beginning; in our time, infinity;
In our doubt there is believing; in our life, eternity,
In our death, a resurrection; at the last, a victory,
Unrevealed until its season, something God alone can see.

My husband's back is to me and I suddenly see the jerking of his shoulders. He is crying. Now, a man crying is not all that unusual, but my husband is a big strapping ex college football playing guy and this is rare. Life has literally slapped him up side the head with a big dose of woe and this simple song has released the torrent.

The phone rings, a call from work, and he must go in for a little while. I hate it and am worried about him. But after dressing, he looks at me and with a smile, says, "It is going to be OK".

As I hear the front door close, I know it will. Not because the difficulties have been resolved or the viral side effects completel relieved. But because in the dark of the tunnel, he has seen a small pinpoint of light. He cannot tell me exactly what it is, but he knows it is not a train, and that is the only hope he has to cling to right now.

Funny, how sometimes that is all we have and it turns out to be enough. Not the promise of promotion, good health, or financial security. But the faint glimmer of hope that this too shall pass. He walks with us through the wind, the fire, the water. The fire may be quenched, the winds calmed, and the waters quieted. But not necessarily so. He walks with us "through". How blessed that word is - "through". Not set up camp, hunker down, or build a condo there. Through it to the other side. That is the hope my husband had in his words and his smile this morning. And he shared it with me.
Praise God!

"Please & Thank You" or "Thank You & Please"

In a small department at my college, there were three separate instances of a young woman losing their grandmother. Taken their ages, this was not unusual but in the small group, it was devastating. I don't know if it was the loss or the fact that there was an inability for anyone to recover and offer the others their sympathy or empathy. I found myself returning to one of my favorite scripture.

Be anxious for nothing, but in prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, make your request known. And the peace that passes all understanding will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus.

Being a rather anxious person, the "peace that passes all understanding" has been a difficult and elusive commodity. In reading the scripture, the words "with thanksgiving" took on more of an importance. In praying for the young women, I thanked God for the importance of grandparents and realized the loss in my life. It was bittersweet, because from where I was sitting, my grandparents deceased, I could understand the beauty of their memories. Things I never appreciated when they were alive, but that lived on after their deaths. It was incredible. I realized in my praying, thanksgiving was a list by rote of all the things I am grateful for. Most of the time, though important in my life, listed without much thought or feeling. I realized also in praying for these young women, the peace that passed all understanding was the fact that I knew God would be in the situation and He would bring the sorrow and grief to fruition. And there it was - the peace. Not that there would be no pain and suffering, but that it would be part not the whole. Though I may not always be able to do it. I "pray" I remember to say "thank you" before I say "please". Because it is for me.