The Creaking Baord

 There is a time of the day,

   or so they who know, say,

    when the Lord walks this way.

      Adam heard Him in the evening,

        Jacob, like me, while sleeping.

          No sound of evening breeze here,

Just the creaking board down the hall. 

 

Moses heard Him in the crackling fire,

   Elijah in the sound of spinning wheels.

     The shepherds heard the singing angels,

       the folks in Jericho, a trumpet sound,

         and for Samuel, a mysterious voice,

          but around here, nothing so sublime,

Just the creaking board down the hall.

 

While it may seem I'm ungrateful,

   nothing is farther from the truth.

    'Tis good to be among those included

       in His walking among us each day.

        I've heard Him in the roaring sea,

          in many wondrous things, but lately,

Just the creaking board down the hall.

 

Ah, but yes, it is a mysterious thing,

   this sound of walking in the night.

    No feet are in the dark hall stirring.

      I know. I've heard and got up to look.

        There is no question it is Him

          and how is it that He lets me know?

Just the creaking board down the hall.     

Praying for Others

When someone ask us to pray for them, an appropriate question is, "How can I pray for you?"  It is a lesson I learned years when I went to the altar to pray with someone.  It was at a time when a Service of Prayers for Healing was a part of our monthly schedule.  A person came forward whom I knew was struggling with cancer so I immediately started praying about this issue in his life.  When I finished, he thanked me and said, "...but I came to ask for prayers for my brother."  Lesson learned.  We should not assume to know how to pray for someone until they tell us.   

There are a world of people around us who are overcome by overwhelming and unseen difficulties.  What we see and think we know may be nothing more than the tip of the iceberg.  As we remember the story of the four friends tearing up a roof in order to lower their paralyzed friend into the presence of Jesus, we see how this is true.  Both the friends and the man on the mat came for physical healing.  What Jesus said must have surely surprised them.  "Son, your sins are forgiven."  (Mark 2:5).  It was later that Jesus said to him, "I say to you, stand up, take your mat and go home." (Mark 2:11).  

Even though it may seem as obvious as day and night, it is not a good thing to assume we know another person's need.  We have known people who have desperately and fervently prayed for physical healing while others would have us pray for a peaceful journey into eternity.  Jesus could see and understand a hurting and broken person's real need.  We often cannot see.  It is a good thing to ask, "How can I pray for you?"

The Man in the Mirror

 In the mirror, there is this man,

    a brow of dirt and ashes,

     or is it the costly stain of sin

       he wears as he looks at me? 

         'Tis after all, shaped like the tree

where the saving Savior bled and died.

 

 In the mirror, the brow now clean,

    the stain scrubbed and washed away,

      the dark smudge that once glared

        and spoke of the unclean not seen

           goes now into tomorrow's light

just as if never worn by the brow.

 

In the mirror, a hand moves to remove

    what cannot be removed, the mark,

      the one not worn on the brow,

        but on the heart, where no one, 

          sees and knows still it is there

'cept the blessed Savior, yes, He sees.

 

In the mirror, a unseen hand now moves

    to wipe away that one dark blot

      that in the heart has so long lingered.

        'Tis strange how blood that stains

           can cleanse even the foulest spot,

the one unclean hands could not wash away.

 

In the mirror, now another man appears,

    the Suffering One, the Dying One,

      the One who scrubs the soul clean

       and even dares to call home the place

         once darker than the blot on my brow.

Praise be!  Gone now the dark spot on my heart. 

Ash Wednesday

Today is Ash Wednesday.  People will be noticed in the market place wearing a dark gray smudge on their forehead.  It may even be in the sign of the cross.  Ash Wednesday opens the door to the season of Lent.  On Ash Wednesday liturgically minded Christians of many denominations will submit themselves to an ancient ritual known as the imposition of ashes.  It is indeed a strange moment within the life of the church as its members gather to be reminded of their mortality.  

"Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return," the priest will say as he or she looks people in the eye and marks them with ashes from the burning of last year's palm branches. For some stranger who walks into the service not really knowing what to expect, it can be a shocking, and perhaps, offensive moment.  After all, who wants to die?  Who among us, so sure we are going to live forever, wants to be reminded that we are going to die?  Even as we are linked together in birth so are we linked together in death.  The truth is we all need a dose of reality.  

Being reminded that our life is fragile, finite, and temporal may be a way of enabling us to live more attentive to each day.  Of course, there is no better one to tell us we are going to die than the church because it is also the one who tells us we are going to live.  Even though we die; yet, shall we live is the core gospel message.  At the end of the Lenten season, we will return to the church to celebrate the resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ who tells us that as surely as we die, we shall live because He has been enveloped in death's hold and overcome it. The victory He won is His gift to each one of us.

Sunday's Sermon

It was Sunday morning and the church crowd was going and coming.   He sat just outside the entrance way fo the sandwich shop with an open Bible midst his crossed legs. His clothing was in sharp contrast to the church crowd who had to notice him as they passed by.  The backpack pushed tightly against his leg appeared to be his only possession.  A coffee cup beside him said he had either made a purchase from inside or received a gift from someone who saw him.   

I am ashamed to admit it, but when I saw him all my internal voices of skepticism started wildly firing.  One said, "His timing for reading his Bible in public could not be better."  Another joined in, "What a great place to just sit. He doesn't even need a sign."  "He sure knows when and how to play the guilt card," was one of the last voices I heard before I heard a softer and kinder voice beside me saying, ""Let's buy him a sandwich."  All my inner voices ceased speaking.  There was no more to say.  

We bought him a sandwich.  "Friend," I said as I handed him our sandwich, "we wanted to share this with you."  He took it, thanked me, pushed it in his backpack and said, "I don't need it, but I have a friend who does."  I have a feeling God regarded his gift to his friend as a gift of greater value than mine.  Mine to him was wrapped thinly in love compared to the lavish abandonment wrapped around the gift he gave.  "Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver."  (II Corinthians 9:7)

The Chief Regret

One ot the benefits of living long enough to be a worn out Methodist preacher is time for looking back at the many years which are a part of memory.  There are many good memories.  Most of the good memories are centered around experiencing grace, being able to stand alongside of others as a pastor, and being privileged to always have a pulpit from which to preach the gospel.  Even as I am grateful for these memories that bring blessing, there are others which cause me to think about ministry in terms of what I would have done differently had I known then what I know now.   

One of the chief regrets about my years of ministry is that I did not spend more time intentionally being in His presence.  If I could do it over, I would spend more time on my knees.  I would choose to block out time to listen for God in the silence even as I had time blocked out for sermon preparation or meetings.  I would, of course, first had to learn how to be silent and to be in the silence that becomes filled with the holy.  I would be more intent about being available to God even it meant not being available for every phone call or coffee conversation about the business of the church.   

E.M. Bounds, a great prayer warrior from another generation, said and wrote many times that the source of the preacher's life is prayer. If I were doing it over again, I would take what I knew in my head and be more intentional about giving it flesh in my life.  Everything a preacher does emanates from the prayer room.  I would spend more time with the Source which, of course, this retired preacher and anyone else, preacher or not, can choose to do in the present moment God is giving. 

Thoughts on Transfiguration

The church calendar makes this Sunday special as it lifts up the moment of glory shared by Jesus and three of his disciples on the Mount of Transfiguration.  It is a powerful story about heaven breaking into earthly confines. It was surely an unexpected moment for those disciples.  One minute everything seemed to be orderly and predictable and the next moment they were nearly blinded by the brilliance of heavenly glory.  One moment it was them and Jesus and suddenly there appeared with Jesus, Moses and Elijah.  How did they know?  It is not like they were wearing name tags.  None were needed.  They knew.  

When God shows up in our presence with such attendant glory, we want to dig a hole somewhere and hide as did those disciples of long ago.  Or, maybe we shrug our shoulders, put our hands in our pockets, and silently slip out the exit door.  What is frightening about those moments when God breaks through the ordinary routines and expectations of our life is that there is usually some holy purpose which is a part of it.  If we think it just so we can shed a few tears, express a hint of emotions, and feel good about Jesus for a minute, we have missed the meaning of the glory.  

As wonderful as are those times when God seems near enough to touch and our hearts seem ready to burst, it is what is ahead that is important.  God does not bring us to those moments so we can live in them as the disciples would have chosen to do, but so that we can leave them with such an awareness of the power and presence of God that nothing is deemed impossible.  We have all had those moments filled with glory.  They may come in worship.  They may come in the quiet place we go for prayer.  They may come bursting forth from the creation around us.  One thing is sure. They come and when they come they make us different for the going that is ahead. 

Different Day, Same Power

I wonder sometimes if the church has forgotten it has an all powerful God.  A friend in Texas calls Him "the sovereign all powerful God of the Universe" as he speaks of God doing impossible things.  In a recent reading, I came across some thoughts the author was making about Chrysostom, a fourth century church father, "In discussing the miracles of the book of Acts, he never lost sight of the fact that they were performed and continue to be done, not by men but by God, whose power is always the same."  

 Here is an ancient word that the modern church needs to ponder.  Has the God spoken of as "the God of signs and wonders" become a domesticated God who is comfortable living in the boxes we have created for Him?  Do we really believe He can do the thing which seem impossible to do?  Have we become so timid in our faith that we are afraid to trust Him to the point that we will crawl out on the limb with Him?  Have our expectations become too low and does our fear of embarrassing ourselves keep us from modeling a faith willing to risk it all for His sake?    

Two things are clear from the observations about Chrysostom.  God's power has not changed since those days of Pentecost.  His power has always been and always will be the same.  Secondly, signs and wonder,  or acts of power that reveal the presence of the Holy Spirit are not dependent on the men and women who lead the church, but upon the church's willingness to embrace and accept the raw unbridled power of God in its midst.  

The First Work

The first work of the Holy Spirit after breathing the church into being with rushing wind and holy fire was to draw the unbelieving world into a relationship with Jesus. It was not to organize committees to establish mission teams, feeding ministries, safe places for widows and orphans, institutes for theological study, or even churches.  These things came later, but they were not the first priority of the Holy Spirit.  The first priority of the Holy Spirit was to bring people into a saving relationship with Jesus Christ.  By the time the sun set on the Day of Pentecost, three thousand people had heard the message of Jesus and were baptized.  

It is certainly not the case that the people who heard Peter preach that day were inclined to listen to a message about the crucified and risen Jesus.  When those men, still bewildered and overcome by what had happened in the Upper Room spilled out into the streets, they immediately found themselves midst a culture filled with skeptics and naysayers.  It was not an arena for success, but the message about Jesus overcame, drew people toward Jesus, and changed their hearts.  Is not this an example of "the power of the gospel?"  (Romans 1:16).   

Ah, that the church of our day would remember the first work of the Holy Spirit!  The things the church does to serve and love the world around it are important acts, but not at the expense of the first work of the Spirit.  What is needed in the church are not better preachers, softer pews, enlightening and entertaining programs, but Jesus.  The church of our day needs to see the first work of the Holy Spirit, embrace it, and have its people move over in the pews so there is room for those who are out there ready to come.

Raise Us Up

What can a church do when it comes to terms with the reality that it is slowly dying due to a lack of baptisms?  Getting rid of the preacher may be an option for some churches, but it makes about as much sense as firing the manager of a baseball team for losing even though every player is making a ton of errors and striking out each time at the plate.  Having a consultant come and lead a church growth conference might be considered, but it can be expensive especially for smaller congregations.  Of course, there are books and articles to read, sermons to hear, and podcasts to watch.  

The real key to renewal of the ministry at the baptismal font, or pool is prayer.  Has anyone  ever wondered what happens when a church begins to take prayer seriously by making it not a peripheral ministry, but a central one? Has anyone ever wondered what would happen if two people, or five people, or ten people in a church gathered to pray that God would bless the church with baptisms again?  It is not strange that we ask the people of God to pray for pastors, for the sick, for mission programs, for the bereaved, for financial campaigns, for our youth and children's ministries, but no one is intentionally praying for the church to be blessed with new believers in Christ Jesus?  

God is the Source of all spiritual blessings we seek for the church.  Surely, there is no blessing which would bring more joy to the heart of the Holy Spirit than to see people who have never openly professed faith in Christ to do so in His Church.  The first step toward seeing the baptismal waters stirred again is for a few to know themselves as the ones the Spirit is raising up to pray that seeing people professing faith in Christ would be the norm instead of the occasional occurrence.  "Lord, use us to raise up such a people."

A Spiritual Disease

One of the symptoms of a spiritual disease which is slowly destroying the church is not hard to diagnose.  Generally speaking more and more churches are reporting fewer and fewer baptisms each year.  When there does happen to be a need for a baptism, the worship committee (if it is a sprinkling congregation such as my own) has to find the baptismal font, dust it, sweep off the spider webs, move it to a visible place in the sanctuary, and fill it with fresh water. No one should be surprised to hear some of the younger generation asking, "What is it?  What do you do with it?"  

Every time the baptismal waters are stirred, it is a sign that some new soul has signed up to follow Christ. It is no small decision that brings a new believer to the holy waters.  My tradition says, "it is an outward sign of an inward change."  When the church gathers around the baptismal waters, it is to celebrate the birth of new creation in Christ Jesus.  It is also the moment when new blood is infused into the church and new breath is breathed into it through the power of the Holy Spirit.  

When the church becomes dependent on generational growth, or receiving new members because they are moving their membership from another congregation, it is drinking what might seem to be life giving water, but it is from a poisoned well.  A next generation church that is seriously concerned about its spiritual and theological integrity will either be filled and empowered by new believers from this generation, or it will simply know itself as a shadow of what God intended for it to be.  

The Prayer of a Righteous Man

Before leaving the house today, a friend said, "I would like to pray for you."  I never have any problem with someone praying for me.  Before he prayed, he said, "The Word says  that if anyone is sick, the elders of the church should pray for them and I reckon I am old enough to be an elder."  As one six years younger than me, he qualifies as an elder.  While I think the passage in James (5:13-15) is about the spiritual leaders of the church praying, I did not interrupt.  He was elder enough for me.  God didn't care. Neither did I.   

Sometimes it seems the church gets too caught up doing things by the book.  My own denomination has declared that only the ordained can administer the Sacrament.  Yet, there have been many a small group of believers studying and praying together who shared the Holy Meal without the beneifit of my presence.  Was it any less a remembrance and celebration of something sacred?  I think not.  Some denominations only allow those confirmed as members to receive the Sacrament which, of course, excludes the children whom Jesus was always inviting to come to Him.  Is the Table really open to all, or just those who jump through the hoops?  Again, my own denomination could never have achieved the impact it did in the formational days of our country without the unordained lay pastors who rode the circuits.   

My friend who stopped to pray today had no church officials lay hands on him to declare him an elder, but he was elder enough for me.  He is a man of faith whose prayers are constantly springing forth from his heart and falling from his lips.  His faith is strong and his intercessions are the words of a righteous man.  I did not need to see his credentials or his robes.  I saw his heart.  It was more than enough.

The Great Pretender

There are times when it seems that the church has hijacked Jesus.  But, then it is not the spiritual community centered on Jesus Christ which has done the deed, but the institutional church which poses as the Great Pretender. The institutional church is concerned about its survival.  It feeds on more.  It has its roots dug deeply into deeper treasuries, bigger buildings, and a success that is measured in much the same way as any thriving business.  The bottom line is not the number of souls saved, or lives radically transformed by the person of the resurrected Christ, but how smoothly the programs operate and the financial report at the end of the year.  The primary business of the institutional church is maintenance and survival.   

The church centered on Jesus seeks to lose itself in the world.  Appearance is not the important issue for a community of faith which seeks to live in the world as seed being dropped in the ground.  It is filled with disciples of Jesus who dream and pray about doing for Jesus what seems humanly impossible.  Its mission is not about maintenance but a mission defined by words such as the Great Commission of Matthew 28:18-29 and the Great Missional Mandate found in Matthew 25:31-46 which gives the broken a place alongside of the affluent at the Table of God's Kingdom.   

It is hard for those of us within the church to see the importance of the distinction because we start out with nothing more than our love for Jesus only to be seduced by an institutional church which whispers that what we want to do for Jesus can be done even better and with greater effect if we will buy into the agenda of the Great Pretender.  There is never any big announcement that we have switched horses.  It is all so very subtle.  One day we are all for the community centered on Jesus and the next day, it is all about maintenance of the institution instead of mission.  All the talk about Jesus becomes window dressing.

 

Glory in a Box

Even before the church came into being through the rush of that mighty wind at Pentecost, there was a spirit which sought to control the ministry of Jesus.  There are two stories in the 9th chapter of Mark which enable us to see the birth of the controlling influence which flourished as the church became institutionalized.  The first is the most well know.  When Peter, James, and John experienced the Mt. of Transfiguration, the first thing they wanted to do was to build three shrines on the mountain, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.  It was a moment of experiencing a great sunburst of heavenly glory and Peter's response was to build a small house for it. (Mark 9:2-8).  

The second incident is reported a little later in the same chapter as John tells about trying to stop someone from casting our demons in the name of Jesus because as the disciple put it, "...he was not following us." (Mark 9:38). Jesus had a different idea.  "But Jesus said, 'Do not stop him...' " (Mark 9:39).  As the church became more organized and more institutionalized, it succumbed to the temptation to put glory in a box.  No longer would following Jesus be a thing as simple as "Come and see," (John 1:39) for the church began to set in place how would be followers should come to Jesus, what prayers they should pray, and what spiritual practices to which they should submit.  

In the early days of my ministry, a leaflet about four spiritual laws was required reading for any seeker.  In many places of our church culture, being baptized is not nearly as important as how the baptized are baptized.  Not even the Table where Jesus first offered a meal of grace is open to all.  Unfortunately, the church in many places has special requirements for those who would come and partake.  More than anyone or anything, the church seems most afraid of losing its control and letting the glory out of the box.

Rekindling Faith

Memory has the power to bring to our consciousness things thought to be forgotten.  The other night out the blue came a memory of a song I had not heard in such a long time, one I learned growing up in Sunday night worship, and one I would have thought forgotten forever until I remembered it.  "In Times Like These" was the gospel song.  Maybe you remember George Beverly Shea singing it in one of the Billy Graham Crusades, or maybe you remember it from those informal Sunday night worship services when you sang until you were breathless.   

"In times like these, you need a Savior.  In times like these, you need an anchor.  Be very sure, be very sure, your anchor holds and grips the Solid Rock."  I love those old songs of the faith.  I miss those Sunday night services.  As a preacher I always was trying to recapture that faith building experience for those entrusted to me.  While I confess to not being a big fan of contemporary music in worship, the reason has to do with what is being remembered and stored in our spiritual storehouse.  We sang those old songs from "The Cokesbury Hymnal" over and over and over.  They were a part of the building blocks of our faith.   

I wonder what kind of memories are being stored through the music experience of today's church.  Will people thirty or forty years from now remember the lyrics of songs of faith, or will they simply remember the worship team and the excitement generated by the rhythm of the music and stage atmosphere?  I know this is the old fashioned worn out preacher longing for the good old days, but I still wish I could be sure there will be memories being created which have the power to rekindle faith.

My Soul Seeks in the Night

 In the darkness of the night

    my soul seeks to see the One

      Who cannot be seen and

        Whose voice speaks; yet,

          is one that cannot be heard.

Still my soul seeks Him in the night.  

 

Is it the darkness which hides His face?

   No, He is not One who can be hidden

     by any darkness, or power, or foe.

       It is own choosing, this not seeing,

         Neither this darkness, nor a lack of faith.

So my soul seeks Him in the night.

 

In the darkness my soul seeks the unseen,

   the One seen as a thousand faces:

     Brilliant red sunsets, ivory white moon rises,

       growing hay fields, red cows awaiting,

         roaring crashing waves, whispering wind.

My soul knows the One it seeks in the night.

 

In the darkness my soul waits and watches

    not knowing everything, but sure of one,

      the One unseen is coming.  He is near.

        Always it has been such in the darkness,

          and the present darkness shall not prevail.

My soul waits for the Living God who comes.

          

Grateful

One of the things I have learned along the way is to live with gratitude.  The Apostle Paul wrote, "Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. (I Thessalonians 16-18).  Rejoicing and praying is easy compared to the admonition of giving thanks.  While I have not reached the level of Paul, I am further along the way than I used to be.  Keeping a Prayer Journal taught me that in the darkest of times, there are things for which to be thankful.  This is not a Pollyanna approach to life, but one filled with realism.   

All of us have been through some very dark and hard moments in our life.  In those moments being grateful may be difficult.  In such moments we might imagine ourselves standing at the edge of the darkness.  At the edge of our darkness we can see the people who are encouraging us, the people who are praying for us, the care being given to us, and the awareness that we have not been forgotten by God.  As we start at the edge of the darkness, we can slowly move into it still mindful of the things and the people for which we can be grateful.    

Maybe this discipline or practice does not work for everyone, but it has enabled me to be grateful in circumstances which could have caused anger or bitterness.  One thing is certain.  Life is lived better when we look at every circumstance through the lens of gratitude.  And remember, too, "this is the will of God."

A Shimmering Word

Years ago I became acquainted with Esther da Waal,  a writer who introduced me to the stream of Celtic spirituality.  A word she often used was "shimmering."  As an example, she would talk about walking with a camera on a walk.  Her suggestion was to walk with no intentions of taking a picture of some particular thing, but to see what called for your attention, or as she put it, "shimmered."  A few days ago while looking to read a particular passage in I John, another one I had no intention of reading grabbed my attention.  It shimmered.   

The passage was I John 5:14-15.  Reading it was like walking up three steps with each one containing a truth that led to the next one.  The first step is "And this is the boldness we have in Him..."  Here is a word which calls us to come before Him boldly and without a spirit of timidity and fear.  Come before Him without doubt is what is being suggested.  Step two then says, "that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us..."  Our prayers are not simply cast into the wind to go haphazardly into who knows where.  When we pray according to His heart, we can be assured our prayers are heard.  

The final step is the one that is so amazing, our minds have trouble taking hold of it.  "And if we know that He hears us in whatever we ask, we know that we have obtained the request made of Him."  Here is a word which tells us our prayers are not filed away, left in some heavenly drop box, but are heard by Him.  And if heard by Him, we can turn our head toward heaven as we wait for what in inside His will to come in an overflowing and abundant manner into our life.  It truly is a word which shimmers!

The Bold Prayers

So often the deepest and most desperate prayers of the heart are more half-hearted than bold.  Our praying often sounds more like, "God, You wouldn't want to bless me, would You?" or, "I know this sounds impossible, but I thought I would ask it of You just in case."  This is not the prayer of faith, but the prayer of doubt.  James wrote about such praying in the early part of his letter to the church:  "But ask in faith, never doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind; for the doubter, being double minded and unstable in every way, must not expect to receive anything from the Lord." (James 1:6-8).   

Too many times we have come before the Lord with our petitions in hand not really expecting our prayers to make any difference.  It is as if they are thrown into a wind that blows them back in our face instead of toward the throne of grace.  Over and over the Scripture tells us to pray with faith.  Again and again the Word calls us to pray with boldness.  Perhaps, the first prayer we must pray in the face of what seems impossible is to ask God to deliver us from a spirit of timidity and fear.   

Anyone who takes prayer seriously certainly understands that the prayer room is shrouded in divine mystery.  We are told by the Word that it has great power, but we do not always see it.  Once our prayers are spoken with faith into the ear of God, they become as building blocks useful to Him for the work of His will.  How it all works we may never know in this life, but He knows and that is enough.

A Fallen Sparrow

One of the things which frightens us in our spiritual journey are the those moments when our encounter with God seems to refute what we have learned to believe about Him.  Byron Herbert Reece was an Appalachian poet of north Georgia whose legacy still lingers heavy in the valleys and hills he called home.  One of his poems is about that passage of Scripture which speaks of God's protective eye being on the sparrow.  The poem begins with the words, "I saw a fallen sparrow..."  As the poet wrote lines wondering how it happened, he ends with the words, 'I had no means to know; But this I minded well: Whose eye was on the sparrow Shifted,--and it fell."     

What do we do with a healing God who does not heal?  How do we relate to a caring God who allows my child to die?  How do we relate to a God who supposedly watches over the sparrow; yet, who lets him fall?  If our questions about faith are easily answered, it is likely that we have not been asking the right questions.  With his poem Reece pondered what seemed as mystery to Him.  If we read the gospel as a book of answers for life, we will likely be disappointed in the end.  What the gospel reveals is not answers, but an open door into the mystery where God can be encountered.  

Mystery abounds.  How can it be that a person who dies shall live again?  How is it that God became flesh?  How is it that the cross has the power to transform life and bring into the creation a new order?  As Reece saw the sparrow, he pondered what cannot be understood.  Dare we do the same?

Its Own Legs

When I was a child I got hooked on reading the Bible by reading the stories of the Old Testament.  While I am not sure fascinated is the right word to use for a young reader, I found myself reading those stories in Genesis and Exodus over and over again.  As my reading expanded, I found other great Old Testament stories as well as those of the gospel.  Back in my preaching days, I occasionally used the narrative of a Biblically based created story as a substitute for a Sunday sermon.  When I did, I avoided making sure everyone got the point of the story out of a belief that a good story stands on its own legs.   

Later it would come to me that the many stories of the Bible were connected by a common thread.  Collectively, they are all a part of the story God wrote with the people He brought into being.  It is not just a story of a big boat and a flood, a young boy killing a giant, or a king losing sight of his purpose, but the story of God at work among us.  Thus, the story is still being written.  When Jesus, the Son of God, came as the Incarnate One of God into Bethlehem, the story took on a new dimension.  

It became a story not just being written with the external actions of men and women, but a story told which recorded the way life is transformed by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit.  It became not just a story of deeds done; it became a story of a heart wrapping its arms around the world.  The story of the gospel is not just the story of mighty deeds of wise people.  It is the story of overcoming love.  It is a story which stands on its own legs.

His Plans

We talk much about the fact that God has a plan for each of us.  Jeremiah 29:11 is an oft quoted verse in these days.  "For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope."  It is a Word from God which is not only a word of encouragement, but a promise.  It is also a word which requires a radical kind of faith which speaks of abandoning self for the plan of God.  The truth is His plans are not always our plans because they are not in line with the plans we have made for ourselves.  

One thing learned about the plan of God over the decades of walking with Him is that there is nothing predictable about His ways.  The way He leads is not a straight path, but one that has many surprising and unexpected twists and turns.  To abandon ourselves to His plans and His future is to be willing to live as a risk taker.  Experience has taught us that when God leads us into the future He is unfolding before us, it often means that He is going to lead us away from where we feel in control of our life to the place where  life can only be lived if He is given control.  

This is the world where "the plans I  have for you..." become visible to us.  It is, therefore, not the world of the known, but the world of faith.  The question is not the one which asks if God really does have a plan for us. The Word of God is dependable and trustworthy.  The real question is do we have the faith to walk with Him into that unknown and still not yet see plan.

The Fallen Snow

Fallen snow invites us to enter into its silence.  It makes no noise.  It floats in frigid air until it finds its place on the cold earth.  When it settles in its place on the ground, it waits.  There is about it a contentment with being in the presence of the stillness.  It is so content, it seeks nothing more. It does nothing to call attention to itself.  It looks like a white canvas that contains what has not yet come and something not yet seen.   

Is that not what it is to enter into the silence created by the very breath of the Holy Spirit?  Too often we approach our dedicated time with God with what we seek from Him.  We have brokenness which needs wholeness, emptiness which needs filling, and hope we need restored.  There is within us an endless stream of petitions for the something more that seems to always be a part of our life.  There are even those desperate moments when we take the brush in our own hands and dare to put on the empty canvas of our life what our impatience requires in the now.  

The waiting snow invites us to see our own heart as the empty canvas waiting in the stillness for the Spirit to begin or continue His work of creating in us someone who has not yet come into existence.  We are never who we see ourselves as being in the past, nor are we simply who we see ourselves being in the present, but instead, we are also who we cannot yet see ourselves as becoming.  To enter in the stillness with a waiting spirit is to trust the Spirit to make visible the invisible, unseen, and not yet part of who we are becoming.