A Word From Jayber

"I try not to let good things go by unnoticed," said Jayber Crow as he reflected on his move and his new life in a small cabin by the river.  He then goes on to speak of the way Spring foliage closes in the cabin, the way the leaves drop in the fall, and the way the river sometimes floods and sometimes is filled with ice.  But, as we get acquainted with this character created by Wendell Berry in his book, "Jayber Crow," we also catch a glimpse of a man who is noticing far more than just the changing nature around him.  He also notices people, the way they live, the way they die, and the way God is present in the midst of everything between birth and death and beyond. 

 

There is a part of me that longs to be able to at least claim a distant kinship with old Jayber.  A word that has been impressed upon me so many times in this final season of my life is "Pay attention."  When we are young, we embrace the illusion that there is an unending number of years to be lived, but as the time passes, the illusion fades and the reality of a finite life intrudes.  Jesus spoke of considering the birds of the air and the lilies of the field.  He taught using images of sowers, and shepherds, and springs of water.  He obviously was aware of what was all around Him and He was constantly pointing those alongside of Him to live with a present awareness.

More and more it seems that living any other way is to live in such a way that we risk wasting the trip God has given us upon this earth and through the span of our days.  Too often we become so pre-occupied with what is going to happen that we are unable to see what is happening.  Too often we are so caught up in worrying about what other people think of us that we forget there is nothing more important than what God thinks of us.  I think Jayber had it right when he spoke of noticing the good things as they pass by for all and everything that passes by is something which has first passed through the providential hands of God and, therefore, is surely worth of all our attention. 

Changing Seasons

With the Canadian geese filling the afternoon air with the sounds of wings beating and loud honking and the thuds of falling pecans dropping to the ground, can Fall be far away?  Even today as the sun was dropping down on the western sky, there was a breeze that almost seemed cool brushing against a shirt full of sweat from a wrestling match with a chain saw and a huge fallen limb.  Just maybe, it really is just over the edge of the horizon.  Just maybe the hold hot Summer has held for so long is being broken and the cooler days of Fall are soon to fall upon us.

 

For so long I talked about seasons by watching the liturgical calendar go from Advent, to Christmas, to Epiphany, into Lent, and Easter, and then into the long days of Pentecost.  And while I still am somewhat aware of these seasons and the significance each  brings to the life of the church, I must confess to being more captivated in these days by the changing seasons that have been ordained and in place since the beginning.  Ecclesiastes says it well as it tells us, "For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:  a time to be born, and a time to die, a time plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted...(Eccl. 3:1-2)  Of course, there are many more times set forth in those first eight verses of this third chapter and all of us are always living in one time, or season, or another.

 

Even as each of the four seasons of the year bring something different in the atmosphere, so do they bring forth new things for us to experience in our living.  No season is exactly like the one lived in the past.  Each one is different.  Each one brings a reminder that we are always in between sowing and reaping, being born and dying.  Life is not stagnant, but always filled with the dynamite of change.  So, we have been created to live.  God has not just thrown us into the creation to move through it, but to live midst it mindful that we are an integral part of it.  Our purpose is as unique as each changing season. 

Imagine

The man known as "the man born blind" said nothing and asked for nothing as Jesus came along.  He had grown accustomed to not being seen by the seeing ones.  He  knew what it was to be ignored and overlooked.  Very likely he could not remember when he had quit expecting anything from those who only thought of him as something in the way.  The occasional gift of charity was often thrown his way without any real expression of concern.  He was just there.  Taking up space.  Breathing air.  Of no value.  He was just "the man born blind."  No one really seemed to care for him.  He was just another one living, but taken for granted. 

Imagine for a moment the hush which must have filled the air as Jesus ignored the disciples' attempt to turn a moment for compassion into a moment of theological debate.   Imagine for a moment the surprise of those who watched Jesus turn all his attention to the one they had figured for a long time to be a nobody.  When the man heard Jesus spit, he probably braced himself for it would not have been the first time someone had spit at him. Imagine what it must have been like for him when he felt fingers putting cool wet mud on his unseeing eyes.  The only words he heard were the words which told him to go and wash the mud from his eyes. 

The mud would not heal the man, but it would bring him to a place of deciding whether or not Jesus was someone to be trusted.  The Scripture speaks of his faith response as it tells us what he said to those who had ignored him, "The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, 'Go to Siloam and wash.' Then I went and washed and received my sight."  (John 9:11)  Imagine for a moment what would have happened had the man born blind not gone and washed mud from his eyes.  Imagine for a moment what would happen in our lives if we lived by a faith that would cause us to do that which some would regard as foolish and which might not even make any sense to us.

Dirt is Holy

Dirt is just dirt.  Dirt can make you dirty.  When I was a kid running and playing, I brought more than my share of dirt in the house to be washed down the bathtub drain.  But, getting dirty is not really something experienced much anymore by young participants of organized play, nor is it something which happens in the white shirt world where all the important stuff happens.  Dirt is something to be distained, avoided, and washed away.  It is just dirt and it makes you dirty.

 

So, who would have thought that Jesus would have handled dirt with the care given to consecrated and prayed over healing oils?  It must have been quite a surprise to the man known as "the man born blind" whose healing is set forth in the ninth chapter of John.  Verse 5 and 6 paint the picture filled with dirt.  "...'I am the light of the world.'  When He had said this, He spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and put the mud on the man's eyes..."  Oil is often spoken of in the Scripture as something which is useful for healing and acts of consecration.  It is on the list of things which are holy.  But, not dirt.  Dirt is dirt.  Dirt is dirty, not holy.

 

But, Jesus reminds us through this act of healing that dirt is holy.  The dirt we hold in our hands (which, of course, is something we never do) is as holy as the healing oil.  Dirt was created by God.  Dig a hole, put in a seed, cover it up and a womb is made ready to bring forth life.  Who is to say dirt with this creative power given to it by the Creator who made it is not holy? Indeed, it is.  God made it holy through creation.  Jesus affirmed it as holy by making it an instrument of healing.  Dirt is not just dirty, it is holy.  And, if the dirt beneath our feet is indeed holy, do we walk anywhere and see anything which cannot be perceived and known and experienced as holy?  We just need to walk with open eyes and allow the dirt to be felt with bare feet as we walk on what is truly holy ground. 

The First Thing

As I remember growing up, my first response to the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" was farmer.  Both my parents grew up on farms so maybe it was embedded in my DNA in some mysterious way.  Of course, my journey to the farm was a long round about one that took me what turned out to almost be a lifetime to complete.  It was retirement that brought me out of the urban lifestyle and into the rural setting.  As I have ventured into this era of my life, I have learned a lot of new stuff.

 

One of the things learned is that the creation really is an integral part of life.  In some ways the creation was often taken for granted as I lived hurrying from one scheduled thing to the next.  I never understood that some folks thought of rain as something other than an inconvenience.  And while I learned to fret over dry weather which might hurt the lawn, a period of dry weather can be just the right time to harvest a crop.  The Harvest Moon which shines so brightly outside over the land is a reminder of the provision of the creation.  This particular full moon earned its name as its brightness enabled the farmer to continue harvesting crops even after the sun had disappeared. 

 

The creation is not to be worshipped, but it is a powerful and ever present reminder of the One Who is to be worshipped.  The book of Genesis clearly proclaims that everything that exists in the universe is in its place because of the creative power of God.  He not only created each individual aspect of the creation, but He set everything in place in exactly the right relationship with every other part of the created order.  It is not a created order flung into place, but one carefully and divinely designed.  To stand in awe at the beauty and order of creation is to stand in awe of a Creator God who created everything that is out of nothing.  Amazing!  Only God could have conceived of doing such a thing!

Home

I have never been one to spend much time thinking about heaven.  Neither have I spent much time trying to figure it out.  Needing to have a detailed description in mind has never been a necessity for believing it to be a reality promised.   A old spiritual that I love and often sing has words that sing, "My Lord, I'm on my journey.  My Lord, I'm on my journey.  My Lord, I'm on my journey, I'm on my journey home."  Home is where we are headed.  Home is where the road will finally take us.  The road has the footprints of many who have walked on ahead and as surely as the Word speaks of a great cloud of heavenly witnesses, those who have walked the road ahead of us have reached home.

 

Home is important to all of us.  It is more than just the place where when you have to go, they have to take you in.  It is more than the place where the heart is.  It is what our soul seeks and where it knows what it means to belong.  While waiting on food to come across the counter at a local eatery, a server who had become an acquaintance came alongside and asked if I had plans for the holiday.  "What holiday?" I asked.  "Thanksgiving," she said.  "I am going home at Thanksgiving."  And then, she spoke of Ohio and seeing her mother and father and a much anticipated table gathering.  Home.

The home to which we walk is where we know we belong.  It is where we will share a mysterious table gathering with Jesus and all the heavenly host.  We will be no stranger.  It will seem that we never left and that having returned we are not only welcome, but someone for whom much preparation has been done.  Home is where we are headed on this spiritual journey.  We are heading toward an experience and life of being in the presence of God which will be unlike any known or imagined on this earth. 

No Shadows

Anyone ever play "Shadow Tag" when a kid?  The rule of the game was simple.  Instead of actually touching or tagging the person being chased, the tag is made by stepping in their shadow.  Such is how the one being chased became "It."  Last night and tonight that old childhood game could have been played after dark.  The moon is so full and bright, shadows of tree limbs, and buildings, and even people can be seen as clearly in the dark as if the sun itself were still shining.  Amazing!

 

When we see our shadow, it means we are walking away from the light.  It is behind us so in a sense we are choosing to walk toward the darkness.  The darkness may be illuminated by the shadow making light behind us, but it does not change the fact that we are still walking in and toward the darkness.  In the gospel of John we hear Jesus speaking of Himself by saying, "I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life."  (John 8:12)  And in another place much earlier in the same gospel, the Word of God declares, "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it."  (John 1:5)

 

When we choose to walk in the presence of Christ, there are no shadows, no impending darkness just beyond the reach of the light, no light behind us.  Instead, to walk with Christ means that things are seen differently and clearly.  What is seen and experienced is not an illusion, or something obscured, but reality.  What Christ reveals to us is a reality upon which life can be built and lived without any regret, or wanting to look back.  Even in the darkness caused by some of the difficult circumstances of our life, we can be sure that He will bring to bear a light that penetrates the darkness enabling us to know that there is nothing to fear inside the way forward. 

An Old Friend

A few days ago I picked up an old book for another read.  I feel like I have been visiting with an old friend.  I cannot begin to remember the number of times I have spent time with Wendell Berry's literary character named Jayber Crow.  One of the things which grabbed my attention in the midst of this read was something my old friend said about sermons.  As he talked about the young preachers who came and went in Port William, he said, "In general, I weathered even the worst sermons pretty well. They had the great virtue of causing my mind to wander.  Some of the best things I have ever thought of I have thought of during bad sermons."

Now, some preachers may have preached mind boggling sermons, but I suspect I have preached more of the mind wandering kind.  When I was preaching every Sunday, I would often wonder what the pew sitters were thinking in the midst of the sermon.  There were more than a few times when it seemed to me that I knew I no longer had control of the room, that is, if I ever did!  In those kind of moments I probably should have just closed the Book, prayed the benediction, and spared me and everyone else the suffering that is endured during bad sermons preached by hopelessly lost preachers. 

Of course, I always hoped and prayed often that God would be able to put something I said in the sermon to good use.  When it happened and I was made aware of it, it was truly a blessing.  I remember more than my share of bad sermons, but I also have recollections of a few that were keepers, sermons that the Spirit used for purposes beyond the hope of the preacher.  Old Jayber set me to thinking about all this when he confessed to the good thoughts generated by mind wandering sermons.  What has always been a surprise to me is not the fact that I preached a good sermon every now and again, but that God dared to call me, the most unlikely of all possible preachers, to preach His Word to His people and allowed me to do it for a life time. 

A Snowball Rolling Downhill

Today was one of those days in which confusion seemed to accompany me at every stop.  Every appointment and plan was overbooked with delay, waiting, and frustration.   The particulars are unimportant for we have all had days that tried our patience to the full measure.  Looking back I can see that mine ran out too soon.  It was like I was suddenly having a bad day and I wanted to make sure that those who I saw as causing it were having one, too.  Like old Simon Peter I had three distinct opportunities to model what it means to follow Jesus and I allowed my impatience to make me more like a gigantic snowball rolling downhill.

 

Had I prayed asking God to give more patience, it might have been understandable.   I could have simply said God was answering my prayer by putting me in situations where patience could be grown.  But, I had offered no such prayers and I am not sure it is the right thing to put the blame on my missing the mark today on God.  It was not about Him, but about me. 

In the back of mind there has been this gnawing remembrance of something from Paul's letter to the Galatian Christians.  "...the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience..." (Galatians 5:22)  Ah, there are more things listed, but no need to go any further.  It seems like this has been one of those days when I have been turned more outward, allowing the external to direct my life, instead of listening to the Spirit who dwells within me as He does with all who believe in Jesus.  What I know in my head is that life is not meant to be lived in response to what is outside of us, but in response to what the Holy Spirit is seeking to do from the inside.  Looks like I still have got a way to go. 

A Debt Not Paid

I owe a debt to a number of preachers.  Without any fanfare or anything that really called attention to the fact that it was happening, they started offering words to me that gave important direction at strategic moments in my life.  I remember one who told me as I went to an appointment after leaving another with my shirt tail on fire that I should settle into the small community where I was appointed and plan to stay.  Learning not to leave became a important lesson for ministry.  And at a very early moment in my ministry another man for whom I was working gave me my first preaching opportunities, but only after he sat in an empty sanctuary on Saturday night to hear the sermon I would be preaching the next morning. 

 

I hope that in some small measure I have repaid some of the debt by standing alongside of other preachers as these and so many others stood by me.  Often it is impossible to actually repay, or even say "thank you" to those helpers in our life, but one thing we can always intentionally do is to live with a helping and encouraging attitude as our paths cross the paths of others on the journey.  All of us, not just those are who preachers, have opportunities to live in such a way with others.  What one of us cannot name some folks who have taught us important lessons for our own spiritual journey?

 

We are all on this journey toward God together.  Some of us have been on the road longer than others.  Some of us should have it more together than we do.  Some of us seem to be wandering about like some lost soul.  We look around and we see some faces that are confused and some that appear to reflect glory.  Is there any greater calling than helping a sojourner take another step on the road toward home?  As I continue walking because of others on the road, I pray that some are staying steadfast because we shared the road together. 

The Water Boy

Around here I sometimes think of myself as the water boy.  There is no thirsty worn down football team that needs me to take water out on the field, but there are animals that depend on me.  Before our dog of fourteen years died, one of my daily chores was to make sure she had plenty of water in the dish.  Whenever we keep some chickens around as we are prone to do, their watering needs become a daily concern.  And even now, the cows that graze out in the pasture go to a couple of 300 gallon metal troughs numerous times during the day and they always expect it to have plenty of water. 

 

As I tend to this basic need here on the farm, I am constantly reminded of the importance of water to everything that lives.  All the animals and everything that grows in the field needs water.  Even the one who does the watering needs water.  We all do.  One of my favorite water stories in the Scripture is found in the 4th chapter of John.  I found it decades ago when I was just a boy about to become a man.  When I started trying to preach, I went to that text many times.  I remember preaching it one Sunday at the morning service and then again at the evening worship time.  I cannot imagine what a young green preacher could have come up with for two sermons on the same text, but I have never been one to shy away from offering a lot of verbage.  Ask anyone who has had to listen to me preach more than a few times.

 

But, I guess it is also true that even as a young preacher, I recognized this story of Jesus at Jacob's well as a powerful life giving passage.  Those words from the 14th verse are such words as we hear Jesus saying, "...The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life."  I am particularly partial to the word "gushing."  It creates images of more than a sufficiency, more than just flowing but overflowing, and a source of life giving power that has no end.  Sounds just like something Jesus would offer poor sinners like me and, maybe, you.

Movements and Institutions

One of the problems with churches, is that they become institutions.  For example, in the beginning Methodism was not regarded as a denomination, but a movement that sparked renewal in a country where spirituality had disappeared within the established church. John Wesley, the father of the Methodist movement in England, could never have imagined the denominational institution which would come into being as the centuries passed.  What he did fear was that the movement might one day become  lifeless and empty of power.

 

What he feared back in the 18th century seems to be the fate of spiritual movements that become institutionalized.  Maybe the impetus which carries movement to institution is inevitable and unavoidable.  Movements are concerned about spiritual vitality and institutions are concerned about self-preservation.  When the movement allows issues of spirituality to be replaced by issues of self-preservation, the dotted line on the death certificate has been signed.  It may not be a sudden death, but more likely a slow, painful, and agonizing one. 

 

Jesus spoke about losing life by seeking to save it and saving it by losing it.  If self-preservation was high on His divine agenda, we would have no cross narratives in the gospels.  Getting to a place where spirituality  is the main business is a hard road for the institutional church to go.  Maybe it becomes impossible once the primary business of the church becomes self-preservation.  Self-preservation focuses on  maintaining the externals while spiritual vitality focuses on the invisible and impossible to measure matters of the heart.  Is there any hope for an institutional community that calls itself the people of God?  The gospel is the story of Jesus living midst such a community which sheds some light on the direction which must be walked.

Overburdened Souls

Many of us carry around so many pounds a honest look in the mirror causes us to confess to being overweight.  Putting pounds on is always easier than getting rid of them so it is easy for them to add up in a hurry.  There are a lot of reasons we eat too much of the wrong kind of food.  Many people eat to fill an emotional hole.  Others eat simply because food is enjoyed too much.  And, then there are those who live in denial when they see a clear reflection of themselves in the mirror.  Of course, the best reason for losing weight is not about appearance, but health.  Bearing a lot of extra weight is simply unhealthy. 

 

When we are physically overweight, it soon becomes obvious to everyone, but could it not also be true that our soul can become so burdened with the stuff of life that we feel as if a crushing weight is upon us?  Unconfessed sin can and does weigh extremely heavy upon our life.  We may be able to compartmentalize it so that we do not consciously see it, but its impact upon our life never really goes away.  It is one of those things which will weigh our spirits down as surely as pounds weigh down our physical body.  Another heavy load are the anxiety burdens we carry around with us day to day.  Anxiety is as much a killer to the soul as it is to the body.  It robs us of everything that speaks of the present moment in our life.

 

Our souls do not need a twelve step group, or a commercialized plan, but a Savior.  The only cure, or healing for our soul is found outside of us and it is the one written and planned by the Creator God who brought us into being.  As simplistic as it might sound to some, souls that are loaded down with sin and burdened with the cares of life will only find relief and restoration through the touch of Jesus Christ.  For anyone serious about living life as it was meant to be lived, Jesus is not an option, or a luxury, but a necessity.  He is to the soul what air is to the body.

Remembering Communities

As we walk our own path, we step in and out of so many different communities.  Some become a part of our lives for extended periods of time and others pass from view as quickly as the leaves which fall from trees in the fall.  I often think about some of the communities which have touched my life and continue to exist in a place other than here.  To remember them is to remember faces, acts of kindness mutually offered, and experiences shared.  And while my vision of those communities is colored by the past, I know they go on and on in the present moment with the folks I knew then still living within them.

 

To remember is to call the names without uttering a sound.  Remembering those communities from the past has become a ritual of blessing.  The existence of those communities did not depend on me and they continue without my presence.  I wonder sometimes how some of the people who are a part of this past of mine are faring.  Did the guy who drove the shuttle for us while we stayed in a distant city for an extended time ever make it to the college graduation of which he often spoke?  I wonder if the child I knew long ago who is now a woman with children of her own managed to buy and live in her home place.  From time to time I call an older guy who came to know Christ when we were young just to know if he still speaks of faith in Christ. 

 

So many folks touch our lives.  So many lives are touched by each one of us.  Every where we have gone and everywhere we go, we move in and out of communities of people who are important to us in the present and continue to be important long after the present has disappeared.  In many ways the Scripture is the divine story of people living in community with one another and with God.  We can be thankful that so many of these sacred groups have shaped our lives and connected us to one another in an unbreakable way. 

The Records of Heaven

On any drive down a dusty dirt road out here in the country, there can be seen one abandoned home site after another.  Old gray wooden frame houses with windows and boards missing literally litter the roadside.  To look is to wonder how they manage to continue standing.  But, another thought which often comes to mind are the stories hidden by the passing years.  There was a time when these old dilapidated houses were homes where men and women lived and worked and grew crops in the field and children under the roof.  If old houses could tell tales, what stories could be told.

 

So much of life never gets told.  It happens and is forgotten.  But, surely what happens for God remains more than just a memory in the corridors of the heavenly place.  We know the stories of some of God's saints and the work done in different places in the world, but for every E. Stanley Jones or Hudson Taylor there are a thousand who have labored and sacrificed for Christ without any real recognition.   Billy Graham was a household name for this generation of Christians, but there is a great host of unnamed folks who labored in other places whose names and stories are known only by the Christ in whose name they served.

Old abandoned churches also have their stories.  We know enough of the stories of the churches which are a part of our lives to know that there are countless stories which could be told about those who had nothing sacrificing much, or stories about great spiritual battles fought at altars, or sermons preached that touched a single life, but no more.  Ah, the woods are full of great stories.  What we often forget is that our life before God is another story being worked out in the present and stored away somewhere in the records of heaven. 

Evening Prayers

Like so many others, the first prayer I can ever remember praying is the one which begins, "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep..."  And like many others, it is my Mother whom I remember teaching me to pray this prayer.  My  evening prayers changed a lot in those years after learning that first evening prayer.  I suppose you might say I outgrew that prayer.  I started praying longer prayers, prayers that seemed more personal.  Maybe I even thought of them as being the prayers of a believer growing in faith.

 

Now some people tell me they do their evening praying in bed.  I have tried that from time to time, but usually find that sleep overtakes me before I get too deep into praying.  If I pray in the evening, the best place is not the place where sleep is so easy to find.  However, in these later years which some have labeled the senior years, I have found myself coming to a new appreciation for the simple evening prayers.  I often find myself praying one of those simple prayers as I enter into the time of sleep.  One remembered often begins with the words, ""Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep..."  ("The Divine Hours" by Phyllis Tickle. 

 

A recent find came in the book being read about Celtic spirituality.  It has a prayer that comes from prayers saints prayed back in the Middle Ages.  It has become an evening prayer for me as of late.  "I lie down this night with God, And God  will lie down with me,  I lie down this night with Christ, And Christ will lie down with me,  I lie down this night with Spirit, And the Spirit will lie down with me, God and Christ and the Spirit Be lying down with me."  I am beginning to wonder about those prayers I thought were too simple to pray.  Could be I was wrong.  Of course, it is not the first time.

The Run

Long years ago when I went to Vidalia as their new pastor, I was into running.  One of the guys in the church who was an avid and dedicated runner talked me into taking a run after my first Sunday night service.  I would run many times with Matt over the next ten years, but that night was the most memorable.  We set out in the darkness running on streets that I did not know.  The distance turned into too long a run for me with a guy who was pushing the pace to measure the runner preacher who was with him.  It was a long and painful run.  I did not know where I was and I was sure I was not going to get back to some place that looked familiar.

 

It is an old memory, but one that models what it is like to walk with Jesus.  When we go with Jesus, He becomes the Pacesetter.  He is the One in charge and all He expects of us is to go along with Him.  Sometimes the run on which He takes us can be long and painful.  We might even find ourselves wishing we had not said "Yes" to going.  The one thing which is certain if we are listening is the sound of feet hitting the ground beside us.  When He calls us to go with Him as He did those first disciples, He does not leave us, but faithfully stays alongside of us for the whole of the run.

When this old guy looks back to see that teenage boy who said "Yes" to Jesus, I see a boy who had no idea of what was ahead.   At the time it seemed clear what life would become, but the further I have gone with Jesus, the clearer it has become that much of the run is taken in the darkness in unfamiliar territory.  More and more I have come to understand that is our faith in Him who is steadfast and faithful which keeps us locked in beside Him.

A Small Round Boat

A recent read is entitled, "Celtic Christian Spirituality."  Honesty requires confessing that my reading in that area is very limited.  One section which really struck me was the material about Celtic Christians being wandering saints.  They became pilgrims and wanderers according to the promptings of the Holy Spirit.  Some of those journeys were on land and some were on water.  "Using a small round boat with no oars (called a coracle a curragh), a pilgrim band would climb into the boat, cast off and entrust themselves to 'currents of divine love'   Eventually,...the sea or river would  bring them to rest at a place they had not chosen, for they allowed themselves to be completely open to the movement of the water." 

 

Such an image brought to mind the way Oswald Chambers wrote about abandonment. The way to the most intimate and powerful relationship with God is through the waters of turning lose of everything regarded as precious for the sake of God.  For many of us it is a life long journey.  We go along thinking we are right in there where we need to be on the road of faith only to have the Spirit show us something in our heart which is holding us back or causing us to walk a way other than the road being walked by Christ.  The Celtic Christian tradition of getting in a boat with no oars is a powerful image of what it means to abandon all to God.

 

I wonder.  I wonder too much.  But, still I wonder if in the beginning of our faith journey, the Spirit puts us in one of those small round boats with a word about getting ready for the journey to wherever.  I wonder if that is how it was and I also wonder why I kept shifting my weight around so that I could get myself somewhere I wanted to be.  Looking back I think I was getting out too much instead of staying put so the current of the Holy Spirit could move me to the place and the moment filled with His bidding.

In His Image

No two of us are exactly alike.  Even those who wear the moniker of identical twins can be individually identified by those who know and love them.  When we think about all the people of the world and each one being different from all the rest, we are indeed considering a miracle.  Yet, even as this is true, we bear the markings of those who are responsible for our birth.  While seeing a multitude of children passing in a store with their parents, I realized again how every child bears some markings that identify them as belonging to a particular Moma or Daddy. 

 

In the book of Genesis there is this Word which says, "Then God said, "Let us make mankind in our own image, according to our likenes...so God created humankind in His image, in the image of God He created them; male and female He created them."  (Genesis 1:26-27)  Even as we bear the DNA markings of some human mother and father, so is there something about us which identifies each one of us as being created by the Creator God in His very image.  Of course, this has nothing to do with skin color, or propensity to be tall or short, or the length of our nose.  Instead, it has to do with something intrinsically a part of us; yet, invisible to the human eye.

 

But, what is invisible to the human eye is clearly seen by the Creator of the universe who had no small part in our being who we are.  At the moment of conception, He marked us with His holy image.  We became one of those created through a process that is filled with the things of earth; yet, also filled with what can only be described as mysterious and divine.  From that moment forward we are forever seen by Him as one who belongs to Him through creation.  Like a father, He loves us and like the One Who brings order to the universe, He saves and delivers us. 

Kingdom Laughter

It happened on the other side of the restaurant.  Everything was somewhat sedate and quiet, people were minding their food, and then, suddenly this deep belly laughter filled the room.  It was the kind of roaring laughter which demanded a look from everyone.  Me, too.  At a table of six, one guy was pushed back in his chair with his whole body shaking in laughter.  In the matter of seconds, the other five were laughing as well.  It seemed totally unexpected.  It just happened.  Even across the room it caused an old guy like me to break out in an unexpected smile.  Laughter is contagious.

In the midst of hearing the laughter and being aware of my own smile, I thought about the Kingdom of God.  I imagine there must be a lot of belly laughing going on in the heavenly city where the saints of God are gathered with Him.  Imagine the joy that must fill eternity.  While the saints may not sit around shaking with laughter in every second, there is surely enough of that kind of joy to produce abounding laughter.  The Word does not say anything about heaven being filled with laughing saints, but it is hard to imagine them sitting around with frowning faces.

When I was in college, I saw a large framed print of Jesus laughing.  I bought it and every place I went it went with me.  It hung on every office wall in every church I served.  Nothing sober or somber about that particular image of Jesus.  Surely, heaven will be filled with many invitations and opportunities to laugh.  It will surely be a contagious kind of joyful laughter which sets the whole throne room rocking.  Makes you look forward to heaven.

On the Edge

Standing
    on the edge,
    pausing,
    the next step
    is eternity.
Waiting
    for a word
    to go, to come
    to enter the land
    now seen dimly.
Listening
    for voices,
    familiar ones,
    encouraging,
    full of hope.
Lingering
    and longing
    to touch again
    those souls
    loved before.

(Hebrews 12:1)

Here and There

Somewhere
    between
      here and there
    is a veil.
Sometimes thin
    enough
       to hear
       soft voices
       whispering
    back and forth.
And sometimes thick,
     impossible
       to penetrate,
       or know
       what or Who
   waits beyond.

(Hebrews 12:1)

Fix It

Broken things need fixing.  But, fixing broken things is not always something we are eager to do.  While the obvious response to broken things is to fix them, there are other alternatives.  One, we can ignore the brokenness.  We can go ahead as if nothing is broken.  We can choose to work around the brokenness with an "I'll get by" attitude.  Or, we can choose to be satisfied with less than the best which can be done.  Fixing something may require some effort or expense and we may not be willing to expend either so we just use what is broken even though it is broken.

 

I learned all this the other day from a broken lawn mower.  Every time I got it out to cut grass, I had to spend an inordinate amount of time getting it running.  I finally took it to the shop and now the issues created by the brokenness are gone.  But, broken lawn mowers are nothing compared to broken relationships.  We learn to live with that kind of brokenness in our lives and no good springs forth from it.  Fixing broken relationships can be costly.  It may cost some time.  It may require us to cease counting who is right and who is wrong.  However, the biggest cost comes clothed in our ego.  There is the real problem that has to be fixed when there is a broken relationship.

 

Jesus had little time and energy to exert on broken relationships.  His attitude was simple.  "If it is broke, fix it.  Don't think about who is at fault, just fix it."  This may be a rough rendering of Matthew 5:23-24, but it gets at the core of what Jesus was teaching in this part of the Sermon on the Mount.  When we read those Words of His closely, we realize that fixing a broken relationship has nothing to do with determining blame.  As far as He is concerned, if a relationship is seen as broken, we are to fix it.

Loss and Grief

Walking forward when walking forward means walking with loss is not easy walking.  Yet, as much as we would choose to avoid any kind of loss in our life, it is inevitable.  When we think about loss, the first thing we think about is the loss experienced through the death of someone we love.  This is truly a hard loss which is often compounded when it comes unexpectedly, or in a way which seems to go against the grain of what seems to be normal in the fabric of life.

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Of course, life shaking loss comes disguised in what might appear as some benign circumstance.  But, benign hardly describes the kind of loss experienced when  marriage partners end a life of being together.  And sometimes loss in families comes not through divorce, but through the wayward rebellion of a child.  As one who spent a lifetime of moving from one place to another, it has become obvious that loss and grief can even  accompany geographic changes.  No one is really immune to loss.  Some may not count it as such and not really deal with it as a grief making event in life.  Not paying attention to the loss does not take away its impact on our lives.  Somewhere along the way the grief of losing what is regarded as a person or thing of value will surface.

 

Those who expect life to be easy should seek residency on another planet.  The Word of God which points us to many realities of life does not offer easy.  What it does point us toward is a faithful God whose heart was surely broken by the loss of life seen on Calvary.  What it does point us toward is the reality that the world, as broken as it may seem, is still under the control of the Almighty One who first spun it on its axis.  In the midst of loss, it often seems this God whose essence is love has left us, but there is always a resounding "No!" throughout Scripture.  Whatever life brings, God is with us.

Dust on the Bible

I remember growing up with one Bible.  It was black and had a zipper that went around its outer edges.  Inside the words of Jesus were in red print and every now and again was a picture of some great Biblical moment such as David slaying Goliath. Later on I inherited a small brown Gideon Bible my father carried with him to the Pacific during World War II.  Some years after his death, my Mother married a Methodist preacher who gave me the modern rendering of the Word known as the Phillips translation.  It was the Bible I carried with me to college and it served me for a long time in those early believer days.

 

Much later the Bibles starting piling up around me.  It seemed appropriate for a someone who aspired to be a good preacher to have different versions and translations in order to better understand what the Word was saying.  I even picked up a Greek Bible along the way.   There was a time I could read some from it, but that time was long ago.  As the years and decades passed I found myself still surrounded by different Bibles; however, the New Revised Standard Bible became my mainstay.

 

Of course, the important thing about a Bible is reading it.  Having a lot of different ones may impress some folks if impressing folks is the name of the game being played.  When I was growing up there was a song going around which had the line, "Get that dust off the Bible and redeem your poor soul."  An unused Bible is a waste.  The  Bible was not written to become the basis for a collection, or even the object of intensive study.  The Bible came into existence for us to read to the point that its truths were reflected spontaneously in our living.  So, read the Word.  And, then, read the Word some more. 

A Place

If we do not have a place to meet God, it is not likely to happen during the course of the day.  Oh, I know God can be encountered on the fly, at any moment, but it is also true that intentionality is an important part of a spiritual life that has the possibility of maturity.  The gospels tell us that Peter, James, and John only had one mountain top experience in which heavenly glory unexpectedly broke in their midst.  The rest of the time is it safe to assume that their lives were mostly ordinary and full of the mundane.

 

While I would never even think of discounting those extraordinary moments of unexpected holy encounter, my own life has been filled with more ordinary days in which I sensed the presence of God than days when His power was so evident that I was knocked off my feet and onto my knees.  Our spiritual life is not built on casual unexpected moments, but on moments in which we intentionally put ourselves in position to experience and know the presence of God. 

 

One of those things which is always necessary is a place set aside for holy encounters.  It may not be a place used exclusively for such moments as our living arrangements may not allow for such luxury, but it needs to be a place where we go when we are reading the Word or entering into a time of prayer with the Father.  More important than it being filled with cushioning is that it is a place that has become for us a place filled with holy expectations.  Even as we go into a sanctuary on Sunday with the expectation of worship, so do we need a place in our home where we go with expectations of being able to draw aside to nurture our soul. 

Not an "Invitation Only" Event

The circles in which I run do not have too many "Invitation Only" events.  Oh, there have been a few along the way, but mostly, whoever is doing the event is happy to see whoever might show up in attendance.  The exceptions have been things like weddings, birthday parties, and once upon a time there was a funeral that was "Invitation Only."  The reason I remember the funeral has to do with the fact that I was not invited.  But, that is all in the past and a part of a history that got straightened out at a later date.

 

I am thankful for John 3:16 which says, "For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him..."  If you are like me, you love that word "whoever."  When it comes to the cross, are we not all glad it was an all inclusive event?  Everyone, you, me, everyone is invited to be blessed and delivered by the event of the cross.  The invitation to experience the salvation of God and life in the Kingdom was given that day and everyone got it.  Some may not want it, but it came hand delivered, nonetheless.

How grateful I am that no one is excluded from the Kingdom.  If some were destined to be left off the invitation list, I am sure I would be at the top of the list.  What has made the difference in my life is the grace and mercy offered by God through the cross.  What happened on Cavalry so long ago was a mysterious sequence of events which has the power to penetrate the darkness present in any heart.  No sin is beyond its reaching.  When we kneel before the cross, we hear the invitation to come ever so clearly and we know it is not just for someone else.  It is for you and me and everyone who kneels there alongside of us.