The Working World

The taste of mortality

   gathers on the brow

     with the dust and dirt

       forming a salty stream

        that burns the eyes

         and teases the tongue

with its wet bitterness.

 

The wear and tear of life

   is etched on hands

    bruised and battered

     showing open scars

      made not in a day

       but over hard years

of unrelenting toil.

 

What cannot be seen

   is the broken dreams,

    the beaten down spirit

     that no longer can rise

      to work another day

       yet knows it must

though the will is no more.

 

It is a life unknown

  to the soft handed,

    the white shirted ones

     who sit and earn,

      making what is not seen

       nor touched but only

exists between nine and five.  

 

Giving Gifts

Among other things, Jesus was a great communicator.  When He spoke, people listened.  He had a gift for making people do their own thinking as He told parable after parable.  He was also good with short stories.  It did not take Him a thousand words to tell a story that drove home an unforgettable truth.  He had a knack for seeing ordinary things like sheep grazing in a pasture, or a farmer sowing seed to drive home a truth as surely as a carpenter uses a hammer to drive home a nail.   

The gospel writer, Luke, tells us of such a moment.  "He (Jesus) looked up and saw rich people putting their gifts into the treasury; He also saw a poor widow put in two small copper coins. He said, 'Truly, I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all of them; for all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in all that she had.' " (Luke 21:1-4).  It is easy to imagine Jesus offering this word as He overheard His disciples being impressed by the extravagant gifts of some.  The offering receptacles in the Temple were not like our contemporary offering plates, but instead were metal trumpet shaped vessels attached to the wall.  A handful of coins made a noisy offering as they rattled around to their resting place, but two copper coins hardly even made a whimper of a sound.  

The real difference in the offerings, however, was unseen by the disciples. The rich gave out of their abundance meaning that what they gave was from their surplus.  It cost them nothing.  No matter how much they gave, they kept enough to make sure that all their wants and wishes would be satisfied.  On the other hand, the widow gave out of her poverty meaning that she gave trusting God to take care of tomorrow.  One gift spoke of depending on self and another about depending on God.  It makes us wonder what Jesus thinks about our giving.

A Clear Word

It is a Word from God many do not want to hear.  It is a Word that leaves us with no wiggle room.  Only blatant disobedience enables us to live as if though we are out from under it.  While such is true of any Word God speaks, either by the Spirit's presence in our heart, or through the written Word, there is something about this Word written by the Apostle John that demands our attention.  "How does God's love abide in anyone who has the world's goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses to help?  (I John 3:17).  

This letter John wrote to the early church is all about the love of God.  It is also all about loving one another.  This question posed by John offers a litmus test to tell us how seriously we regard the call of Jesus to love one another.  We love one another not by saying we love one another, but by a sacrificial and generous life which counts nothing as ours and everything as His.  When we walk with Jesus as one who has denied all to go after Him, there is no room for excuses, there is no room for rationalizations, there is no room for holding tightly what has been given to us by Him.  The truth that we often want to deny in order to protect and preserve our holdings which give us security is that we are among the affluent.  

We are among those who have the world's goods in such quantity that we have more than enough to meet our own needs.  We have an abundance which is not to say we have boatloads of money, but that we have enough to share with those who are destitute, hungry, and broken.  John reminds us that disciples are not stingy, but generous.  They do not hold tightly, but loosely.  When they see a brother or a sister in need, they do not look for a reason to look away, but look for a way to share the love of Jesus Christ.

Sunday Pondering

Why I left church asking the question, I do not know.  There was nothing wrong with the service of worship.  Actually, it was uplifting and inspiring in many ways.  When I left, I was glad that I had been present.  Oh, the question?  "Why do I go to church?"  I could just say what is true, "My mother said go" and in those days, no other reason was necessary than the fact that she said to do it.  Or, I could say it is just a habit of mine that has become well ingrained over the last fifty years of life out from under my mother's watchful eye.  As I carried the question around with me through the day, a number of thoughts stopped in my mind for review.  

A few of those thoughts have stuck.  One is that to attend church is to walk on ground which I have come to know as home. It is a place where I have deep roots.  As I become immersed in the experience of worship with others, I sense a belonging to a community.  It is a community of people who share a common heritage, but it is also an unique community in that it is a spiritual community centered on Jesus and given life through the power of the Holy Spirit.  In a mysterious way it is not just a community of those of us who are here, but also one shared with those who are there in the invisible heavenly realm.  If I am not present when the church gathers, it is not diminished; instead, I am the one who is diminished.  

One thing which I think is deeply needed in the lives of those who are caught up in the temporal nature of culture is a place where there is mystery.  It is a good thing to sit still in a place where we are made aware that there are things we do not know, things we cannot understand, and thoughts we never thought to think.  Maybe it was my mother which got me to going to worship each Sunday, but being midst the holy mystery is what keeps taking me back.    

The Creaking Board

 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.