Turning Out

I have been tucked in for awhile.  I think it is part of my chemical make-up, but I tend to just want to retreat from life.  Not in a particularly bad way, it is just not my usual way.  I used to be out-going, the word that comes to mind is gregarious.  Weird word but it sums me up.  Loud and laughing most of the time.  But lots of tough life kind of rolled over me in the past 10 years or so, and I changed.   I try to chalk it up to becoming all those good words like reflective and more spiritual, and I guess in way it could be that, but most of all, I have really been down.  A lot of reasons and no reasons for it.  Ever been there?

So today, I pretty much stopped making excuses for it and spoke to God about it.  I had been unofficially discussing it with Him in my mind, but I officially spoke to Him out loud today.  I pretty much told Him, I could not do this on my own.  In fact, I pretty much gave it to Him and told Him He would have to do it.  I could not.  Kind of like that song we learned in Sunday School - I am weak but You are strong.  I needed that to be it in the worse way.   I was on the way to pick up my daughter and grand-daughter to see the new movie Despicable Me 2 and I was excited about it.  I needed to laugh and in closing, I asked God to let me enjoy my granddaughter and the joy she would bring today.  That would be the first step, I was sure.

I pulled up to a corner on my way to pick them up and I saw a man in a wheelchair.  He had only one leg and he was holding a sign in both hands.  With his good leg, he was wheeling himself up and down the hot, dusty esplanade.  It reminded me of that man in Bethsaida sitting by the pool.  He wanted to be healed but had no way to get in the water.  This man wanted money but no way to reach up into a car to get it, if someone offered it.  I never give money like that.  Feel the person will just use it for booze or cigarettes.  Not my call, but I do it anyway.  But this great urge came over and me and I jumped out of the car, ran up to him, and gave him six bucks.  Not a lot, but a lot for me to give.  It surprised the heck out of him.  Me too.  I hung up traffic but no one honked at me.  I looked back to see if anyone followed my lead, but they didn't.  Too bad.

Picked up my family, got to the show and I went to get some popcorn with my granddaughter.  There was a young lady there that looked as if someone had taken about a foot off her legs.  She was fully developed in her torso, but her legs were miniature and very thin.  She walked through the crowds with her eyes down.  I am sure avoiding eye contact and the looks she might attract.  She walked over to a "cash only" concession.  No one was working it, so I told her.   She was not sure whether to believe me but finally did.  I started talking to her and offered a place in line.  She had an very large scar on her upper lip and from her speech, I knew she must have been born without a soft palate.  She was very hard to understand but I was able to.  She was excited about the show and about bringing her niece.  She was very animated and just excited to have someone to talk to that understood her.  So sweet and she was a fount of information about the animated films coming up.  We finished up our conversation and bid each other good-bye.

I was happy before I even entered the show and it was a great movie - full of laughs.  My granddaughter and I danced to the music as the ending credits rolled.  On the way home, after dropping them off, I just told God how great the day was.  I thanked Him for answering my prayer so soon.  As I talked, I realized that He answered it by bringing people into my life that needed me.  I realized that tucking in is really just focusing on me and that in order to tuck "out", I would have to do something.   And that some thing was focusing on others.  I prayed and He answered my prayer by opening my eyes.  He is an expert in doing that, because He knows exactly what folks need.  He knew I needed to be needed.  Others needed to be loved or served.  He met our needs through putting us in a place to meet.

It will be a daily struggle for me, but I will keep praying and hopefully He will help me keep "looking"

Blind But I Can See

                      Blind
                  I cannot see
                      Blind
                No longer me
                      Blind
                I meant to be
                      Blind
                All for Thee
                      Blind
                I did not see
                     Blind
           You only wanted 

                      Me....

For three days you cannot see.  Everything in your life is gone.  Your sight, your passion, your zeal.  In a handful of words, all you know to be true is nothing more than the darkness that surrounds you.  You do not know if you will ever see again.  You have no desire for food, water, any form of sustenance.  For what?  What life do you have to live? 

Oh, the guilt!  For a few short minutes you escaped the overwhelming, all consuming guilt.   The heretics, the defilers of the faith that you hunted like dogs.  The crazy Christian lunatics that calmly allowed themselves to be taken into custody, spouting forgiveness and praying God to have mercy on your soul.  You had them neatly tucked away, not concerned with their lot.  What was done with them once you did your job.  Your God-given job!

But it wasn't, was it?  It wasn't God ordained.  In fact, you were persecuting the Son of the very Person you claimed to love and serve.   How could it go so wrong?  No......how could you be so wrong.  And at what cost?

Human cost.  Theirs and yours.

What was left for this shell of a man you had become?  How could you ever make amends?  What sacrifice could possible blot out the stain of your sin?  What indeed, but the blood of One who not only forgave you for persecuting Him and His, but seeks You - to make you His own?  Maybe you were not so wrong about the crazy part.  This Christ must be crazy to think there is anything redeemable about you.....

Crazy, to still love you......

Too Little, Too Late

That day.......I remember it well....

I had just bought my first mini-van.  It was candy apple red and I was amazed at the room, the captain's chairs, the power of driving, riding head and shoulders above the rest of humanity.  Of course, this was all before I realized the repercussions this purchase would entail.  Before I discovered the crowd of kids I would be forced to transport to volleyball games, movies, and junior high parties because I owned the van! 

On this particular day, I was running a quick errand to the local pharmacy and had parked a far distance from the entrance, not wanting to get the first "ding" on my van.  Approaching the pharmacy door, I noticed HER.  The bag lady.  Now living in the suburbs, we did not have many of these.  In fact,  for all I knew, at this time, we only had one.  She was a woman in her mid fifties, streaked gray hair, and wearing the same dirty dress.  She pushed a grocery cart with an odd assortment of trash and items she must have picked up from curbside discards.  She was always going somewhere.  Her point of origin and destinations were always a puzzle.  Of course, I had heard the rumors.  She was an heiress, mildly deranged, that chose the streets over the mansion she owned.  She had a large bank account in an area bank, only drawing small amounts to subsist on.  No one could sift fact from fiction, but one thing I did know. She never talked to anyone.

On this day, she was smack dab in my path as I approached drugstore entrance, and I was a bit nervous.  I did not feel threatened by her.  I guess she was an icon of sorts.  She did not look my way as I entered, much to my relief, and by the time I was through shopping, I had forgotten she was there.  

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Leaving the store with bags in tow, I was startled to here a voice.  Even more so, when I discovered it came from our resident homeless person.  I turned and she quietly asked me if I would take her to a street about 5 miles away.  I was shocked and for a minute could not speak.  But I could think.  And what I thought about, in that split second, was loading that malodorous women and her garbage in my brand, new, candy apple red van....

In my reading this week, I happened to come across the Bible character, Nicodemus, .  He is one of those people you have mixed feelings about. You are impressed, that being a member of the religious right of the day, he approached Jesus.  A little less impressed when you remember it was under the cover of darkness.   He does rise a bit above the ranks when, with Joseph of Arimathea, he helps to obtain the body of Christ for burial.  But then he sinks a little when you remember that during the trial and persecution, this member of the governing sect was mute.  At a time when Jesus could have used a friend, Nicodemus was silent.

For some odd reason, this week, I saw him in a new light.  In my prior studies, I knew that Nicodemus had contributed costly spices to anoint the body.  For that same odd reason, this week I chose to dig a little deeper.  In the grand scheme of Rome, Jesus was not a major player. He had, however, brought a lot of attention to himself.  Enough so, that he was deemed a threat and special care was being taken after his death.  His body was to be buried and specially guarded.  

The amount of spices Nicodemus brought for preparation was estimated to be from 75 to 100 pounds.  That is a lot of spice but the weight signified was more than just physical.  It spoke volumes about the personage being prepared for burial.  The more important the individual, the more spices used for burial.  Josephus records the funeral preparation of  the famous Rabbi Gamaliel used a mere 40 pounds of spices.  My prior estimation of Nicodemus' final act had always been "too little, too late".  But was it?

If Nicodemus thought it was a threat to approach Jesus when he was alive, what was he thinking now?   He was really putting himself on the line.  The extravagance of the gift was a confession, a very public declaration of the importance he assigned to the life and ministry of Christ.  A man who had been executed for His actions.  This was a bold and dangerous move on Nicodemus part.

Well, I would like to tell you that I, like Nicodemus, made a bold, public declaration.  That I answered the homeless lady with a resounding, "Yes" and carted her and her stuff to the destination she had in mind.   But I did not.  I mumbled an excuse and quickly departed.  On the way home, I mentally listed the reasons I had declined.  She was insane, I could be in danger.  Maybe I had misunderstood her, she really had not asked me for a favor.

But by the time I got home, I could not even fool myself.  I told my husband where I was going and who I was transporting - our city homeless lady.   Amidst his heated protests, I got in my car and returned to the pharmacy.  Though my intent was honest, my timing was off.  She had moved on.  I drove down the street, half-heartedly, looking for her, but she was not to be found.  I was sad and relieved at the same time.

Regret is a very sad and empty feeling.  But if it spurs someone to future action, maybe it is not in vain.  I hope so, for both of us.....

Body of Evidence

In Copenhagen, there is a statue of Thomas, the Twin, the disciple of Christ.  It is said to picture a thoughtful, meditative man that holds a rule in his hand.  I think that interesting.   

Thomas the Doubter?  Perhaps a finger beside his brow or a quizzical look upon his face.  After all isn't he the disciple who lacked faith, that did not believe Christ had risen.  No, he is not.   Thomas does not deserve this moniker.  

I am so against the one-dimensional way of looking at people.  We have so little time in our society today to really come to know a person.  For one, we don’t have the time to invest in them.  We don’t have the minutes to spend with them, to get to know someone. So we base our assessment on a few, brief bits of data.  We first take in the superficial look of a person.  Then we add a handful of comments they have made or more likely have been made about them.  Top it off with an action or two.  And voila, we have it!  We have summed up a man or a woman and that is that!

I think that is how it is with Thomas.  His whole life is summed up in three words.  Thomas the Doubter,  I think this unfair, always have

All that we know of Thomas is found in the gospel of John.  Our body of evidence in this case is limited.  There are three different passages  that shed light on the person of Thomas.

The first is found in John 11.  Jesus has heard of the illness of His friend Lazarus.  He tells His disciples He is going to Judea, to Bethany, the home of Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha.

The disciples immediately remind Him that the people in Judea tried to stone Him just recently and they beg Him not to return.  But Jesus is adamant that He is going.  Thomas speaks, following Jesus' declaration.

¹⁶ Then Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, Let us go too, that we may die along with Him.

Thomas had been with Jesus in Judea when the opposition tried to stone Him.  He had felt the fear the other disciples had felt.  But He was the only one to voice his willingness to follow Jesus, even to, what may well have been, their death.  Thomas the Brave.  Thomas the Outspoken.  Thomas the dare to be Martyr.  Why had not one of those labels been attached to Thomas? 

The second time we get a glimpse of Thomas is at the Last Supper

Jesus is speaking to them of His leaving

³ And when I go and make ready a place for you, I will come back again and will take you to Myself, that where I am you may be also.

⁴ And where I am going, you know the way.

⁵ Thomas said to Him, Lord, we do not know where You are going, so how can we know the way?

⁶ Jesus said to him, I am the Way and the Truth and the Life; no one comes to the Father except by Me.

⁷ If you had known Me, you would also have known My Father. From now on, you know Him and have seen Him.

Remember that ruler?  Thomas could have been the person in the group that planned the journeys.   He may have picked the paths, the roads, made sure everyone got where they needed to be.  When Jesus said you know the way.  Thomas said, "Wait a minute - did I miss something.  Let me get out my GPS, give me those coordinates again.   Where is this hostel you are preparing for our  accomodations?" There would be no way to follow if they weren't given proper directions.  Thomas the Dedicated, Thomas the Bold, Thomas the Follower?  No, those names did not stick either

The last occurrence is what we study this Sunday.  I have often wondered why Thomas was not with the other disciples.  When Mary came from the tomb and told them she had seen Jesus, only two cared to even check out her story.   If they had believed the women's stories, why would they have remained behind those closed doors when Jesus came to them in that room?  They would have been out seeking Him.  Thomas was not with them. Maybe he was doing just that?   

When Jesus appeared to those hiding there, the first thing He did was to show them His hands and his side.  He did not wait for them to ask, He knew what they needed.  Then and only then did joy take the place of their fears. They also received the Holy Spirit.  

I don't know if you have been in a revival or spiritual retreat where a group of folks accept Christ as their Savior and receive the Holy Spirit.  They can be downright giddy and a little overbearing.  I can imagine when Thomas did get together with the eleven, they all appeared a little drunk, much like those at Pentecost might have appeared.  Plain spoken, concrete Thomas needed proof.   He had believed with all his heart in Jesus, his beloved Savior, and before he laid that broken heart on the line again, he needed proof.  When Jesus walked in the room, once more, He knew just what Thomas needed, not unlike those He had greeted earlier.  He offered physical proof.  But Thomas did not need to touch His hands or side.  He not only acknowledged his Lord Jesus, but He acknowledged His deity, His divinity, His Kingship over his life 

The body of evidence was enough to convince Thomas.   

The body of evidence?

What is His body of evidence?  I guess now it is you and me.  We are the Body, we are the evidence.  

How are we doing with that?  

Does the world see nail prints in His Hands.  Do they see how we  have suffered and yet believe.  Do they see our broken, bleeding side?  How we have sacrificed ourselves for each and every one of them?  Do they feel His love?  Do they see His love?  Do they know we are the love?

I wonder?

Daddy

Daddy,


I had such a good day at school

I did my work and tried not to talk

When my teacher was speaking

It was so very hard Daddy,

But I just thought of you

And it helped me to be good



Dad,

College is really rough

The courses are so hard

The temptations are too great

I know how very much you

Have invested in me

So I will try to keep

On the straight and narrow

Remember me in your prayers



Father

Remember when I told you

I could not wait to grow up

I was wrong, I could have waited

A family, a mortgage, a job

It seems too much to bear

But I have always been careful

To listen to your advice

So that is really what I am

Depending on right now,

That and our conversations.

Thanks for being the kind of father

I could always look up to

And never afraid to talk to



Daddy,

It is just you and me now

I won’t be bringing anyone

Else along on this trip

It has been a rough road

At times, but a good one

I have not always made the

Best choices, but you have

Stuck by me and loved me

No matter what I did

I am anxious to see you

It’s been a long time

God, I am ready when you are.



Jo

A Snapshot

A snapshot


A snapshot of a man. You do not see what was before or what will come. A man who would be king meets the men who would be his subjects. He places himself before them. All that he is, that he has done, and the promise of what he will be. They accept him based on three things they know.

The book is 2 Samuel 5:5. The man is David, the subjects are the tribes of Israel. They accept him because he is kin, a son of the tribe of Judah. Second, they know he is what they need. He is a military man, with a score of successes to his credit. But most of all God has said he will be their shepherd, their ruler. Divine appointment.

What brought the man to this point? What made the man a king?  Was it being a shepherd as a small boy? Was it killing a giant as a youth? Was it being selected by Samuel to be the next king?  Was it playing a harp for the moody King Saul? His friendship with Jonathan? The hiding and fighting for his very life? All of the above?

What would take him from here? What would contribute to his rise as King? What would make him the husband or father he would become? What would make him the adulterer, the liar, the murderer he would be? If they had known what the future held, would they have entered the covenant agreement with him? We will never know because they would not have known.

What makes up a man? This week there has been a lot of information about men in the football world that took the accolades they had been given by the public and used them in the direct or indirect abuse of young children. The same thing that brought the attention to their achievements brought the platform that gave them license for the destruction of innocence.

What makes the difference? Is a man his actions or is it his heart? David was a man of good actions and bad actions. Which do we remember him for? His adultery with Bathsheba was sensational but so what his killing of Goliath.

For me it is his psalms. For me they show the heart of the man. Not only his heart for God, but the heart he showed God. As trite as it sounds, he bared his soul. And we have the evidence in print. In blood, in tears, in anger, in passion, in truth.

That is the man I choose to remember…the snapshot I choose to keep….

A Little Love In Your Heart?

I have a confession to make. I do not like Paul.


Let me re-phrase that. I did not like Paul, but he is growing on me.


In the lectionary, we have been studying the 5th and 6th chapters of Paul’s letters to the church in Corinth. And I have to admit, Paul has convinced me.


Of what, you may ask?


Of the fact that he is not the boastful, arrogant, self aggrandizing man I thought he was.


Now Paul is pretty black and white, where I am not.. But I can give him that, living in the time and climate of the day. The Body of Christ consisted of a fledgling band of believers, following a crucified messiah and whose leaders consisted of former fishermen, a zealot, a tax collector, and other less than stellar folks. And Paul was not working within that mainstream. He was in the outskirts, preaching and teaching to the learned and not so learned Gentiles. People who had never embraced the Jewish faith from which Christianity had drawn its roots. They were pagans, atheists, magicians, harlots, merchants, and everyday folk that were being asked to join a group that was more times than not being persecuted for its beliefs.


Give the guy a break, you say?


This week, I did just that. I got a peek at the man behind the boast. And believe it or not, I liked what I saw. In Corinthians 6, Paul is talking to the concern he has that the church there no longer carries the affection they once had for him. He starts out telling them of what he and “his” have done in the name of Christ. Imprisonment, beatings, floggings, near drowning. He then goes on to tell them how they persevered and endured much with integrity and purity, for the sake of bringing the gospel to the Corinthian church. But not on their own – he does not take the credit. God was with them, helping them to speak, to work, and giving them the right and left hand weapons to do it. And in spite of this, there were still many that would call them imposters, ingenuous, and trifling. Between you and me, I think he was speaking to his audience...


And the grand finale!


In light of all that, can’t you find room in your heart for me. Paul is not asking for the whole heart, just a small corner. It was as if he was asking me the same question. Can you not find a little affection for me? The scriptures you found in my teachings as a young wife and mother. The ones you memorized by heart, speaking and praying them in times of trouble. Can you not find kindness for me in light of the encouragement I gave you when you were being so hard on yourself. For making wrong choices or failing to live up to what God would have you to be. When you realized how I must have agonized after the Damascus road experience, laying there for 3 days. Blindness a meager blight compared to the pain I felt in my heart for those I had wrongly accused and brought to their deaths. How impressed you were that I did not bemoan my failings, though great, but turned my prior passion against Christ to passion for Him and those He loves. Thanking me for the realization that if I could pick myself up after so great a transgression, surely you could forgive yourself and start anew.


And you know what? I do have room for old Paul!


I have a place for this man who loved God with his whole heart. And I promise, to dig deeper. To read the writings and stories of him and others in the Bible with a grain of salt. To not allow scripture passages that are hard or difficult to scare me away, but to draw close and allow God to remove those scales from the eyes of my heart. To realize there is much in life that I must grow to understand and love.


Praise God for discomfort!

Aroma for Christ

The Bible is ageless. I don’t mean it has been around for 1000’s of years, though it has. I mean it appeals to all ages. When I was a child, I loved to hear the stories of children. Young David and his bravery in going up against the giant, Goliath. Samuel, in hearing the voice of God and being chosen to be his prophet. As a young woman, I read about the boldness of Ruth, the industry of Martha, and the mindless devotion of her sister, Mary. As a more mature woman, I am drawn to the Hannah’s and Sarah’s. To think of such faith and hope in the light of such insurmountable obstacles. Funny how my perspective has changed.

The story of Ruth and Naomi is a good example. I have always loved the love story of not only Ruth and Boaz, but the story of the love of Ruth for Naomi. Whither thou goest, I will go. How many times did I hear that verse at weddings as a young girl. But as I read the first chapter of Ruth this past week, I saw the words in a different light. I could not help but wonder, what was there about Naomi that caused Ruth to leave home and family to follow someone who physically had less than nothing to offer? Widows in that day and age were very vulnerable. Widows with no sons were especially vulnerable. Widows with daughters had their problems multiplied. So why did Ruth not only beg to accompany Naomi into a difficult and hopeless situation, but even swore an oath of death if she could not? I think Ruth saw something in Naomi that went beyond reason.

Even as Naomi tries to dissuade Ruth, bemoaning her estate, even using an Old Testament version of tough love, Ruth is not put off. What was there about Naomi? I have not been in Naomi’s situation, but I have been through difficult times. Times when I felt I had barely enough to keep my head above water, much less minister or provide for others. I had no time, no advice, no resources to offer others, as I was accustomed to doing. I could see no reason anyone would want to come around, I was of little or no use! I even drew apart physically and emotionally. But like Ruth, others were not deterred. Though I had nothing to offer, others drew near to me. Even more, they ministered to me.

What was there about Naomi that drew Ruth by her side and to her aid. What urged her to follow Naomi to a new and foreign land. Full of fear and little hope. It says in 2 Corinthians that

“we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing”.

Perhaps that was the answer. No matter what Naomi had or did not have, she had the aroma that comes from being a follower of the living God. There was something there that pervaded even Naomi’s own demeanor and actions. I think many times we see ourselves as “useful” only when we are doing something for God. If we are able to give, to do, to minister, then we are Christ-like. But when adversity hits or we experience tough times, we feel we are out of commission. We even tend to pull back from our church community, embarrassed or ashamed that we can no longer be what we once were.

This will be a hard lesson for me to learn. Just as I am struggling with the effects and changes going on inside my body as I age, I must realize my use in God’s kingdom may change, bringing with it different opportunities. And knowing me, I am afraid “I will not go gently into that good night”. My humanity will see it as my inability not the ability God has saved just for this time in my life.

It’s going to be a bumpy road for sure! LOL!

On a Teeter Totter with Christ

Why is it the closer we draw to God, the further we want to draw away from the world. I think this is why we have those folks that cloister themselves into a life of spiritual purity and ascetism. Denying all the world has to offer – good and bad.


Others choose a life of piety. But in doing so, they cannot resist viewing the world from this new perch. With growing disdain and condemnation, they are free with their advice and condemnation.

But, unlike Christ, we are not fully human and fully divine. We have this 50/50 arrangement. As a Christian, I have Christ dwelling within. I think, in my own mind, I have seen it as a struggle. As if I had to beat the human part of me into submission to Him. Or maybe, I pictured myself as living in a house with Him.

I want to see myself as moving out of the master bedroom, taking the smaller bedroom. My dream one day to move to the broom closet, giving Christ full reign of my life. But now, I see, that is not what He desires.

As much as I would love to wrap myself in scripture, meditation and immerse myself in Him, He knows that my address is still terra firma. He moved in to live with me, the human me. He wants to share my life. He wants to have lively discussions of His Word. He wants to view the sunsets and sunrises. He wants to struggle with the stress and strain. He wants to revel in the world He and His Father so carefully fashioned as my residence. He wants to be my roommate. Lord of my life, yes, but also the Love of my life. Maybe until I can love the “me” in me as much as He does, can I truly know how to live in and love in this co-ed arrangement.

It is a balance I am looking for. Child that I am, I want to teeter totter with Christ. He does not want to sit alone, nor I. There is no fun in that. It is only when we both get on, taking turns, that we can soar. And that is where the joy comes.

For until I love me, can I love you. Until I see me through His eyes, can I see you through mine.

Wow!

The Finger of God

My husband was very ill for about a year and required home nursing, three times a week. One of the nurses we had was a wonderful lady who had converted from the Episcopal faith to Buddhism. I am ever thankful for that year of getting to know her and what I learned not only about her faith but the beautiful spiritual discipline of meditation. One day as I sat beside her working, I am not sure even now how it happened, our conversation drifted to why she had converted. She said that she just came to a point where she could no longer believe in a God that would crucify His Son so that He might be reconciled with His creation. I will never forget that explanation and the questions it raised for me.


In the scripture reading for this Sunday in 1 John 4:7-21, that question is again broached and answered, in what I feel, is the only way it can be. God is love, not hate. He did not murder His Son, He sacrificed His Son for us. As I read those words, I thought of Micheangelo’s Creation of Adam, the beautiful painting found on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and the isolated portion of the painting so often reproduced. The arms and hands of God and Adam reaching out to touch. In this case, though, I saw my arm, my finger poised toward God’s. As I struggled toward God, I suddenly felt a hand on my wrist. Looking up I saw it was Christ helping me to reach Him. Just before He guided my finger to His Father’s, Christ placed my finger into the nail rent of His other hand. I was shocked and I wanted to pull back, but He continued to guide me to God and the Father and I touched through that gruesome wound. Isn’t that just awful? But isn’t it so terribly powerful!

In the beginning, God initiatated the sacrificial system with Abraham, even to the point that He instructed Abraham to sacrifice his only living son on an altar in an act of worship. Of course, God stopped him before that happened, but the foreshadowing was powerful. This system of worship was common to the peoples of that time, even child sacrifice, and He continued to use that as the venue for Abraham’s worship of Him, using various animals. Throughout the history of the Jewish people, this type of worship was instituted and followed. Then when Jesus came to the point where He would make the supreme sacrifice, God’s only Son went as a lamb to the slaughter. His demeanor before Pilate was the best picture He could possibly give us of that sacrificial lamb. Then to be executed by the current Roman means of punishing criminals for their sins, was like putting one of those strobe lighted arrows to the glaring fact that He died for OUR SINS!!! Wow!

But back to my visual. As I sat there dumbstruck of the very means Christ used to join me to God, I looked up at His face. But it was no longer Jesus I saw, but the face of Michangelo’s God. And in that face of God I saw the most unbelievable mixture of love and pain. Tears coursing down His face as He looked into my eyes. And a tinge of hope, hope that I would understand just how very much He loves me.

I hope I never forget that feeling. I hope I never forget that face. I hope that in my heart of hearts, I spend the rest of my life not trying be worthy of it or earn it– that would be the greatest waste of my time - but to feel it, and glory in it, and live through it. To reach out to my brothers and sisters in my own feeble way.

I wish I could see that nurse again. In light of the gift she gave our family, I would thank her again, from my heart, for the wonderful care she gave my husband. In light of the gift she gave me in that explanation, I would thank her for that question. Then I would try, somehow, with the very limits of my language to express that God did not crucify His Son. Love did! Love did and hopefully it is doing the same each and every day in my life and the lives of those I call my family in Christ.

Not Everyone Is a Rocket Scientist!

Not everyone is a rocket scientist!                   
One of my favorite shows is the Big Bang Theory. I love it because it laughs at itself and enjoys doing it. I think we go through life seeing everyone one dimensionally. I think therefore I am. Well, it is more like I think therefore I think you think the same way I do. Well, folks, not everyone is a rocket scientist. Not everyone is a moron. And believe it or not, not everyone is you.

We know by basic scientific knowledge, that there are levels of human intelligence. Likewise, there are levels of human physical and mental capabilities. Add heredity and nurture and then throw in our cultural and ethnic differences and we might as well be all walking aliens.

What I am getting at, is why do we get frustrated with folks when they cannot comprehend or behave as I do. Why do I view them in light of what I know, what I have experienced, or what I perceive. How silly of me and what a terrible waste of my emotions to vent about persons or situations beyond their scope or area of credence.

Now, what about our faith. Why is it we find ourselves clucking our tongues and shaking our heads over a world that is gone to the dogs. As a spirit filled, Christ centered, child of God I see the world in one way. But a person who does not have the center, that has never experienced the overwhelming, grace endowing, burst at the seams love of a God who values them above His only Son, how can they possible think, act, and react like I do. They cannot! And my grousing and complaining and blaming is a total waste of the time God has allotted me on this earth. If I ever want to make my world a better place, I better get in the habit of spreading His love around. Of sharing heavenly glimpses of hope and joy and grace to a world needing it like a parched ground.

Shut up and show off – that is my new motto!

Days - Old but Good?

Equality – the American way. Except in high school!      

                                                                                                         

Don’t know about you, but when I graduated high school 40 years ago this month, there was a caste system. It was not delineated as peasants and nobility, but it was there just the same. The jocks, the drill team, the choir, the band, the academics (nerds).

Each had its pecking order. I had my foot in a little of several so I was able to migrate between the groups. More identifiable with some than others.

This past weekend, I had my 40th high school reunion. It was very interesting. We have several folks that have diligently kept the class together and had a good turn out. I have not kept up with everyone, so I was more or less on the fringe. But I did not mind, because I am a people watcher and I had the best seat in the house. Of course, everyone was really old. HaHa! It is funny how we are old as we look, not think. I am a 16 year old trapped in an old body! I looked better than some, worse than others. It was funny seeing folks and how they moved through the room.

One guy caught my eye. I didn’t know him well, but he did not run in the popular groups. In fact he was more or less a loner. But I saw him in the midst of a great group of friends and he seemed to be having the time of my life. I thought my eyes might be deceiving me, but when I got close, it was the same guy. I asked my husband about him and found out in high school this guy had more or less been a tag along. People were nice to him.

But this was not the same. He was smack dab in the middle of the fun and inside, I was a bit jealous. I realized that time had taken a toll on more than our bodies. Our caste system had mellowed to the point that it was not even visible. It was a level playing field. Those above had bent down and those below had reached up. The lowly not worried about being snubbed or ridiculed. The elevated not worried about their reputation or impression. We had all decided to play fair and share. Something we were taught in kindergarten and somehow lost along the way.

But you know what? This goes a lot farther than high school, or work, or even play. It goes to the heart of being a Christian. We see the least, the last, the lost as unfortunate souls that are below us. That we must reach down and offer ourselves to. But what of those above us. I realized that those that rely on wealth or fame or beauty can very well be in the same category. There will come a time when either age or trials or illness will strike and when they do, unless there is a unperishable foundation built, they can be as least and lost as it gets.

So when we spread our reach, let’s remember to reach up and down.

Love Is Not Smart

⁴ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes,
always perseveres.


Reading this is like taking a trip down a path. It is sunny, but the trees shade your path. The birds are singing, you are smiling, all is right with the world. La-de-da-de-da! Love is patient, love is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast. On and on, good words, honorable words, true words. But you get to verse 7 and it is like you are hitting some rocking road. Love ALWAYS protects, ALWAYS trusts, ALWAYS hopes, ALWAYS perseveres???? Wait a minute!! What if the object is not worth my protection? What if the person is not trustworthy? What if the situation is hopeless? What if every ounce of my being is screaming for resolution, but none is found??? The birds have stopped singing, the clouds are forming, and the world is suddenly not right at all.


Love is not very smart if it puts itself out there to be abused. It is not very savvy if it puts all its eggs in one basket just to see them dropped and broken. It is surely not wise if it hopes in someone who is a hopeless cause. Surely it cannot go on when there is nothing and no one to go on with.

But you see, God is just that. If there was a picture next to love it would by God or the physical incarnation of him, Christ our Lord. God always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Okay, I am feeling better now. He has the shoulders to bear under that. He is able to do all those superhuman things.

But my teeter totter has not finished rocking. If my prayer is to grow into His likeness, and it is, then this is me too. Not the perfect form of Love, but shouldn’t I have the ever increasing desire to be all this? How do I do that? I am in a pickle. There are folks in my life that I cannot trust, they have hurt me. There are folks so vulnerable, I do not have enough energy or resources within me to protect them. There are things going on in my life that are trying to snuff out the candle of hope burning in me. And, God knows (literally) that my perseverance tank is running mighty low. So how do I do it?

Is it that in every human being there is a spark of the divine? No matter if they have acknowledged it, no matter if they have denied it. And the love of me, as it grows reaches out, seeks them out and somehow connects in a way that I might not even be aware of. As I grow in Him, do I just do that? Grow In Him! I hope so, I really do….

Bars and Chains

The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,

Because the LORD has anointed me
To bring good news to the afflicted;
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to captives
And freedom to prisoners


Isaiah 61:1






Early, this past Sunday morning, as I sat in my empty sanctuary, I could almost picture the people that would fill the pews. As I did, these words of scripture came to mind.


Later as I looked over the congregation from the choir loft, I saw the reality in the faces looking back at me. Had I not been prepared, I would have been picking out the “two-fers”. Those who darken the door of a church only on Easter and Christmas. Before that scripture, I would have hoped they received something from the worship experience. Something that would bring them back or, even better, walk them down the aisle to profess their faith.


But now as I saw their faces, I saw something else. I saw captives and prisoners. Not just in those unknown faces, but also in the familiar faces of my family of faith. It dawned on me that so many of us in that room were being held captive and we did not even realize it. The bars were ones that so many of us shared, they were almost invisible. Cells of addiction to work or play. Prisoners to ill health and financial woes. Bindings of greed, anger, lust, and guilt were so entwined, freedom was barely a distant memory.


Hope was the message preached this past Sunday and it is the message the world of today is dying to hear. Hope in a freedom that seems so elusive. A freedom that must be desired before it can be realized.

As it was proclaimed in our worship, I realized the actual “setting free”was not in a number on our rolls, a trip down the aisle, or even tears on a cheek. It was the ability of His Word to do a work in a heart. Unseen and often unnoticed. But inch by inch, link by link, chains could be removed and there was no knowing if this Easter Sunday was the day when the final link would be shattered or the prison door flung open.


Because, He does nothing without our permission or our agreement. And to make that decision, we must see the prison bars and have hope that it is possible to be set free. That is our mission and our call to preach.

Undeserved Love

Undeserved Love......

That is what the Easter message truly is.   God reaching down to a hurting, messed up, needy, sinful creation.  And in doing so,saying "You are my beloved".  And the proof was on the cross.

In thinking about this, I thought about who we love undeservedly.  We love our families but that is out of blood connection and somewhat duty.  We care for co-workers and friends.   But here again, in our busy lives we do not go too deep.  There is only so much time and energy left after our day or work and play that can be expended.  We seek to invest in those friends that are low maintenance.  Much as we choose the shrubs in our landscaping.  Friends that require little of our time and energy.  That we can pick up from time to time to enjoy.  That give as much as take.  That reciprocate our care and concern.  Needy, high maintenace folks are shunned or at least avoided.

But you see, that is not how Jesus worked.  He not only acknowledged the needy and lost, he invested in them.  He loved them and healed them.  I never thought about it, but I am sure many of those healed and fed were in the group of followers that followed Him from city to city.  Still needing to be near Him.  To see Him and touch Him.  Much like the woman with the issue of blood, I am sure these least of mankind drained power from His very essence.

So as I approach Good Friday and prepare to be confronted with His final act of benevolence, what am I to do with this over the top grace? How do I begin to emulate that in my life and my living? Where do I find the time to "love" as He did?  Who do I choose to invest in? What must I give up to do this? 

Lord, where do I even begin....

A Glimpse of Heaven

I enter this Holy Week with a great sadness.  A young couple I know has lost their 2 year-old little girl.  She had a congenital heart defect and was on the list to receive a new heart.  It just was not to be.

This great tragedy is compounded by the fact that her four year old brother died one year ago this month from the same ailment.  It was not even known at the time he had the condition until he collapsed at a sporting event and died subsequently.  

In praying for the young couple, I was at a loss for words.  What solace could there possibly be for the loss of 2 precious children?  How could someone ever get over something like that.  Even silence,  tears, and moans could do no justice to so great a tragedy.  But what came to me, in that expression to God, was a plea for heaven.  If the young couple could just see a glimpse of the place their children now lived.  If they could see the face of Jesus and the love He has for their babies.  The heavenly host who have so wrapped their love and their support around these two darlings - perhaps that would be of some comfort.

As the week has progressed, I thought of another parent.  How did God perceive this Holy Week we are traveling through?  How does a parent watch and wait for what He knows will unfold?  How can He know that He will literally sit on His hands and that His will is for His Son to do the same?  What pain and agony!  A torturous death that could in all actuality be avoided.  And for what?  A world that would scorn, scoff and curse His name not only in that moment but for thousands of years to come? 

Was that glimpse of heaven what sustained them?  Did God realize in a few short days, His Son would be released from the earthly bonds He had submitted Him to thirty three years prior.  Was He picturing Jesus once again joining Him, sitting at His right hand, ruling with Him over heaven and earth?

And was the fact that this one act of sacrifice on the parts of them both, would open heaven's gates in a way that nothing else had, would, or could.  That the division between perfection and imperfection, sinner and saint, good and evil - all would be bridged by the very act of their mutual suffering and pain.  The same glimpse of heaven would become a reality for us all. 

I am sitting here loved, saved, and sanctified because They did!

Alleluia!!

Do You Feel It?

 Have you ever been prayed over? 

I mean “laying on of hands” prayed over?

I have on a few occasions, but the time I never will forget was when I was in the 7^th grade. We had a lay witness team come to our church.  It was a revival movement of the Methodist Church during the 70’s.  A team of youth and adults would come to a church for a weekend.  They stayed with families within the church and just witnessed through a series of meetings.  For the youth, it culminated in a prayer circle on Saturday night.  A chair was placed in the center of the circle of youth and anyone desiring prayer came forward.  Other kids from the circle were invited to come forward and touch their friend and pray for them.

In the volatile emotional world of teens, there was a lot of crying and soul searching.  The beauty of the chair and the circle was that there were no divisions.  Star jock had his hand on the biggest nerd of the group.  Cute cheerleader held the hand of the shy wallflower.  We cried and prayed and our youth group was never the same again.  At the altar call on Sunday morning I went forward and gave my life to Christ.  As an adult, I think it was an acknowledgement of something that had been transpiring since I was a child, but it was a turning point none the less.

In the scripture for this Sunday, I think back to that time.  Jesus is praying for his disciples.  Put yourselves in their place.  He has washed your feet.  He has shared bread and wine with you.  Saying it was His body and His blood.

Now He has told you that He truly is going away and some type of Holy ghost is going to take His place. And now He is praying for you.  You can almost feel His hands on your head.  Feel that as you read these words take from John 17:

   “Father, the hour has come. Glorify your Son, that your Son may glorify you. ² For you granted him authority over all people that he might give eternal life to all those you have given him. ³ Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. ⁴ I have brought you glory on earth by finishing the work you gave me to do. ⁵ And now, Father, glorify me in your presence with the glory I had with you before the world began.

¹⁰ All I have is yours, and all you have is mine. And glory has come to me through them. ¹¹ I will remain in the world no longer, but they are still in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name, the name you gave me, so that they may be one as we are one.

The word that kept coming back to me in reading this was “glory”.  Looked it up in the Greek and it means to cause the dignity and worth of some person or thing to become manifest and acknowledged.  Jesus was to about to be glorified. 

 You might say, he had been.  But you see, what Jesus had revealed of Himself was not a piece of lint in comparison to the majesty of His glory.  And in being revealed, it would in turn glorify God. Not in the earthly sense, Jesus was approaching the most degrading, humiliating part of His life.  

But don’t you see, we are to enter a Holy Week that traces the trip to that point.  All of Christendom was born on the cross that Jesus died.  Talk about glory!!

He tells God that glory has come to him through the disciples.  Take a look around the table.  You have fishermen, zealots, collectors – a rag tag bunch of men.  But men who have given up livelihood, homes, and family to follow an intinerant preacher.  They have glorified Jesus by their very presence at His side.

But Jesus does not stop there, He includes us…

  ²⁰ “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their ²² I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— ²³ I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

He has given us His glory. He has deemed us worthy by His death and resurrection.  We are to be included.  Though we may never have seen His face, nor heard His words.  We are worthy of His blood and His gift.

Wow!

   ²⁴ “Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.

Lord, I am humbled by this gift

Because right now, I see all those that have stood in Your presence between me and this time

I see Christians that gave up their lives for your Word to be proclaimed. 

That were persecuted for a printing a page from your Word

That came to these shores to seek religious freedom

I feel the hands of my grandfather and grandmother that took me to their little country church to worship

My parents that insisted I attend church every week and learn more about you

And the legacy that has burned in my bones and I have passed on to my children and grandchildren

May the flame never die!


Amen

Easter Truth

When I was a young mother, I was torn between two camps.  My fundamentalist friends were determined that their pre-schoolers know  the whole truth and nothing but the Easter truth.  The exact events of the crucifixion and resurrection.  All the gory details.  Their children had to know, right along with their colors and ABC's, that Jesus Christ died for their sins.  How else will they know what a sacrifice He made for them.  


My friends that swung a little further the other way, felt that Easter should be a time of little seeds planted in moist cotton balls, deep inside Dixie cups.  Watching and waiting for the new life that would emerge from the seed.   Or a chrysalis, ready to open, a new butterfly, symbol of metamorphosis - life from death.   Not a word about B-L-O-O-D or the C-R-O-S-S.   I was torn between the two, wanting to be the good Christian mommy I knew I should be. But somehow, I found my own stand.    I came to the realization that if my daughter did not know and love Jesus, His death would be just another sad story.  Love first, sacrifice later.


Twenty plus years later, I am again working with children and Easter is again knocking at my door.  But I am older and wiser and I see things a bit different.  I still feel the children should know and love Him, but they must also know how much He loves them.  For that was the gift of Easter.  Love came down for us at Christmas.  But Love died and rose for us at Easter.  


Here is a poem I wrote about my earlier dilemma.  A little dark and edgy, I warn you....

Easter Truth

Should little ones learn

In Sunday School rooms

That their dear Jesus died

A horrible death

To save their sweet souls

So with each sweet breath

They can raise their voices

To sing Alleluia

Symbols of that death

As common to them

As their dolls and toy trains

Their burden to tote

Until each of them speaks

The gory tale by rote

Sweet voices singing

‘Bout rivers of blood

Alleluia

Why would you let them

Play with nails from His cross?

Metal and heavy

With sharp pointed ends

Could put out their eye

Or might pierce their hands

So how could you let them

Play with nails from His cross?

Alleluia

Or let a little one

Wear a thorny crown

Could you bear to see

Their perfect skin marred

It’s sure to leave them

Wounded, perhaps scarred
So on those dear heads

Please no crown of thorns

Alleluia

Or dress one so young

In a blood stained robe

Perhaps torn in shreds

They’d surely ask why

And when they were told

It would make them cry

So let’s not dress them

In His bloody robe

Alleluia

In the eyes of a child

Crosses are made of gold

Worn about the neck

And robes made of satin

Or nautical suits

And heels of white patent

The only thing marred

On a small child of five

Alleluia

For He begged the children

To gather round his knee

His joy to watch them

Play with fuzzy chicks

Or hunt egg’s colored shell

Laugh at pollen touched noses

From the lilies they smell

His hugs to enfold the

Sweet children He died to save

Alleluia