Glory! Glory! And Glory!

If I were writing a letter to former church members as Paul did to so many of those he touched with his ministry, it is likely that I would have said something like "Dear Friends,"  but the Apostle had a different view.  "To the saints and faithful brothers and sisters in Christ in Colossae," he wrote.  Most of us are afraid of that word, "saint."  We do not have so much trouble applying it to some of the old timers who were spiritual giants for us, but we do have trouble using it to speak of ourselves.  However, if we take the Scripture seriously, it is our name.  It describes us.   

When we say "Yes" to Jesus, a true work of grace takes place in our life.  In another place and to another church the Apostle wrote about this mysterious work of the Spirit, "So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new."  (II Corinthians 5:17)  With that simple word of faith on our part to what God has already done for us in Christ, a person who never existed suddenly stands in view for all the world to see.  None of us are the same when we accept Christ.  The Spirit works in our heart to make us a new creation, someone who has reclaimed that sacred identity given at conception, but somehow covered up and forgotten by a multitude of wrong choices that expressed our desire to take control of our life instead of living it in submission to God's will.     

In that moment of holy mystery, we become sinner changed by grace and one of the saints of God.  Glory!!  Our identity changes.  "But, you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people...you were not a people, but now you are God's people."  (I Peter 2:9-10)  This is who we are. This is whom Christ has made us.   Glory! Glory!  And, Glory to the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit!"

The Right Stuff

When the Apostle Paul wrote his letter to the church at Colossae, he began by doing what he did in all the other letters.  He identified himself.  He told the people who received the letter who was doing the writing.  He did not wait until the end when he finished writing, but at the very beginning so that there would be no confusion about who was writing what.  The very first verse says, "Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God..."    An apostle was one was sent or commissioned.  It was not a personal choice, but one made by God and, in this case, accepted by the Apostle Paul.    

Paul was not one to take on titles for personal exaltation.  He wore the title "Apostle" because he understood it to be "the will of God."  It always seemed a bit strange to me back in my seminary days that some folks showed up not because they sensed God calling them to ministry, but to see if the ministry really suited them.  And while I know some very good pastors today who went uncertain of their calling, it seemed to be something different to go to see if it fit their plans for the future.  Ambiguity about such an important matter did then and continues to be something out of place for those who seek to give leadership to the church.    

In Paul's case the gospel of Jesus Christ and its ministry was not something he chose, but something which chose him.  And once he came to an awareness of that divine choosing, he never looked back at what might have been.  It could be said that he was whole heartedly sold out for Jesus.  To remember a simple song, there was no turning back.  The church still needs those kinds of leaders today.  It does not need the "let's check it out" kind of leaders, but the ones who are so gripped by the power of the gospel, their love for Christ, and their conviciton of calling that their life is no longer theirs, but the Christ who calls them to come and die with Him.  

Looking Back

It has been a long, long time since I went before our Annual Conference Board of Ministry seeking admission to the Conference and ordination.  I do not remember too many of the details required, but one thing never forgotten is the text given to us for a sermon.  It was Colossians 1:13, "He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of His beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgivness of sins."  I typed it with a manual typewriter and can still see the way those words set on the pages.  It would be interesting to read that sermon after all these years, but it disappeared somewhere along the way as I went from one church to another.   

As I look back I realize it was a simple text.  It was one that spoke clearly a Word from God.  It was not one of those passages where the meaning is hidden and requires digging out one commentary after another.  The sermon was probably not one that struck the Board Members as something extraordinary, but it was at least good enough to get me to the altar where the Bishop's ordaining hands were laid upon my head.  There were times when the choice of ordination seemed too hard, but I am grateful for the trust God showed in me by calling me to preach. 

I cannot imagine living another life.  It was one which gave my life meaning and purpose and which enabled me to share in the joys and struggles of so many folks whose path interesected with mine.  There were ten congregations along the way who put up with me and loved me and I remember them with gratitude.  I can understand why the Apostle Paul spoke of praying for the churches which were a part of his life and ministry and why he always sought good things for them.  While the ministry God gave me may have blessed some of those churches, the blessings I received from them far outweighed anything I might have given.  

The One True Center

Daylight comes slowly.  The sun never seems to be in a hurry to show itself on the eastern horizon, but seems content to simply slowly invade the darkness so that what has been hidden for a night once again becomes visible.  The sun creeps when it is invisible beneath the line where sky meets earth and then with a burst of color, it shows itself and everything else that sits quietly waiting for its touch.  It comes slowly and suddenly.  It comes with subdued light and a burst of colors.   And though it never moves, the sun seems to take a journey across the sky above.     

We often speak of the sun moving as if the earth upon which we live is the center of the universe even though the sun is the constant and the earth is always moving around the sun spinning as it goes.  It seems easy for us to live with the illusion that we are the center and everything revolves around us.  Perhaps, that illusion is planted in us when we are newborn babies and everyone around us jumps at every sound which comes from our mouths.  It was surely an illusion embraced by the Garden of Eden couple who made the decision to put their desires at the center of the creation.  The truth forgotten long ago and forgotten even today is that there is only one center and it is not anyone of us.     

As the sun is the center of the creation as we know it, so is God the center of everything which is a part of the created order.  God is the constant.  He is the unchangeable One.  He is the one who brought an eternal light to bear upon a formless darkness (Genesis 1:1-5).  He is the center of all that is and all that is still to be.  In our mind we may think of ourselves as a mountain, but we are actually just a speck.  We are not the center of the universe.  We never have been and never will be.  Such a place belongs to God.

Thank You, Father.

There is no moment in this life as devastating as losing someone we love.  Most all of us have stood at the grave of a mother or father, a husband or wife, a daugher or son.  To set in words the sheer agony and grief which comes in those moments of loss goes far beyond the ability of any writer of words to describe. Broken hearts are not easy to define and neither are they ever really completely repaired.  These moments of loss are never moments we seek.  We run from them.  We deny them.  We do everything we can to keep them away, but still, despite our best efforts, they come.     

In those moments of darkness we are often tempted to turn our back on the One we think should have and could have brought us to a different outcome.  We might even find ourselves questioning His ability to understand.  And while God is not diminished or threatened by us as we shake our fist at Him, we also know in the deep places of our heart that the moment we seek to avoid, He chose.  He chose the darkness of death and separation as a way of expressing His love for each one of us.  And, what one of us can imagine such a love?   Would I have chosen to stand at the grave of someone I loved so deeply as a way of expressing love for a world of people who did not know me and would never honor such an act of sacrifice?  I know my answer.  

I would not make such a choice, but God did as He came to that moment of experiencing death at the cross.  He chose to go through the horrror of that moment because of His great love for you and me.  It was His way of providing for us a way to finally get our broken selves to a place of wholeness.  It was His way of opening the door for us to eternal life with Him.  We had through our choices turned our back on His choices for us and, yet, He still loved us enough to go through death itself to make a way for us to finally get Home again.  "Thank You, Father.  Thank You."

Faith

The invitation of Jesus to "Come and see" (John 1:39) is not an invitation to arrive, but to go.  It is an invitation which is focused not on the destination, but on the journey.  And like the journey to which Abraham was invited with the words, "Go from your country and your kindred and your father's house to the land that I will show you,"  (Genesis 12:1), it is a journey to what might be called "know not where."  When we decide to follow Jesus, we are not handed a book detailing all the twists and turns of the road, the dangerous places that are ahead, or even those other places which could be called comfort zones.   

While we begin the journey with Jesus as a faith response to what He has done for us on the cross, it is hard for us in the beginning to understand the real meaning of living by faith.  In the beginning it bears the marks of a grand exciting adventure and while such is true, it is also a hard way that will cause us to separate ourselves from things that are familiar, places that speak of security, and even people upon whom our life seems to depend.  What is unfathomable to us as we start is the reality that we will have at the end of the journey the very same thing with which we started it and that is nothing.    

Faith is about turning loose that we might take hold.  Faith is what enables us to turn loose of the things which are temporary so that our hands might be able to hold more tightly to the One who has the power to take us the final steps of the journey to our eternal Home.  When we come to those final moments of holding breath within us, everything will have been turned loose so that everything can be gained.  Faith in Christ slowly and surely takes us to such a moment when the gray shadows of earth are overwhelmed by the great glories of the eternal dwelling prepared for us.  

Wrestling with my Spirit

My father who was an avid fisherman spoke about the uniqueness of the Sabbath by saying, "You don't fish on Sunday.  Give the fish a day of rest."  And my mother did the same as her suddenly grown up son came home for a visit from college the first weekend and announced he would be sleeping instead of following the family tradition of going to church.  Whe she heard the announcmement, she simply said, "As long as you sleep under this roof, you go to church."  Her son got up, got dressed, and found his pew.  There was a day when keeping Sabbath was easy as it simply meant abstaining from anything which gave fun and pleasure.   

Later on in life as God began to enter the picture, I learned what He had to say about the uniqueness of the Sabbath.  It was found in Exodus 20:8-10 as one of the Big Ten, "Remember the Sabbath Day, and keep it holy.  Six days you shall labor and do all your work.  But the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work..."  What seemed simple at first became more complicated as the journey of faith continued.  Being a preacher surely knocked a hole in that Word about not working on the Sabbath, particularly, if I kept the same day as Sabbath as everyone else in the world around me.  The holy Word about resting on the Sabbath became easy to look at with a justifying eye in the beginning and then later it became something just largely ignored with my stamp of personal expediency which said, "Does not apply."   

Of course, it did apply.   What God said about Sabbath keeping applies to everyone even preachers whose biggest work day is Sunday.  The simple solution was to use another day, but even then the root of the problem was ignored and justified.  Sabbath keeping calls us to live a life of balance between work and rest, a life which is rooted in dependency on God to provide, and a response of heartfelt gratitude.  Defining Sabbath by getting out of the pulpit or keeping the lawn mower under the shed trvializes an important holy Word which in my case at least is requiring a life time of spiritual wrestling. 

The Divine Current

The line of providential leading begins in the invisible darkness of the womb and ends finally in the invisible domains of eternity.  In between it runs like a river.  Most of the times it runs unseen underground even though there are times when it breaks through the surface to become as clear and as visible as any river which runs its course from the birthing spring to the waiting ocean. Whether seen or unseen, visible or invisible, the plan of God is one which runs steadily forward as a part of the Creator's grand design to get us to the Home He started preparing for us at our conception.    

In Jeremiah 29:11 we hear the voice of God speaking as it says, "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."   And the Psalmist David spoke in eloquent poetry saying, "If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me fast."  (Psalm 139:9-10)   Those who think of life as a complex of coincidences, or a lottery of possibilities will find no support in the Holy Word for it speaks again and again of a Creator who not only creates, but also One who is actively involved in providing direction for the way forward.  

We are not just thrown out to fend for ourselves, but are meant to live within the caring and leading hands of the One who brought us into being.   While some might declare such a thelogical truth as proposterous, it is actually comforting and reassuring.  It is also something which calls us to sharpen our spiritual senses, to look for signs that the Creator places in our way, and to anticipate revealing light in the moments of darkness when the way forward seems impossible to see.  Each one of us stands and lives in that everflowing stream of God's plan and it is our faith that enables us to turn loose attempts at control that we might be moved from within by the divine current. 

Died but not Disappeared

The big stone marker on the highway next to the historical marker simply read, "Rock Methodist Church, 1839."  Back in the overgrown distance was a towering wood frame building about to fall down.  The supporting porch posts stood precariously, the window shutters were hanging in pieces, and many of the glass windows were broken.  It was an abandoned Methodist Church waiting on a good strong wind.  The only durable and lasting looking thing on those sacred grounds which had an old brush arbor and cement eating tables was the cemetery.  Grave markers were both ancient and new.     

I had driven by always in too big a hurry to stop many times, but on this day the beckoning power of the old church was too great.  Some time was spent in quiet walking and reverent reflection.  This old church had called people in that community to bring its young to Jesus, to hear the fever pitched revival sermons, to kneel at its altar, and to come for moments of beginnings and endings.  To stand still with closed eyes and open ears brought forth the ancient noise of a people gathered in great numbers at its open and inviting doors.   

Rock Church is like many of the old abandoned Methodist churches seen from busy roadways.  They seem to be nothing more now than a library of unseen memories.  But, there is another truth.  Old Methodist churches, like churches of other brands, may die, but they do not disappear.  There are surely people living in that sparsely populated countryside as well as in the distant busy urban areas who are the spiritual descendants of those who found Jesus and faith at places like Rock Methodist Church,  A good wind may bring the building crashing to the ground one day, but that church like many others will still live in the lives of those who were told the stories of faith by ancestors who knelt at the unseen altar inside the ruins.  I wish I could have gone inside, knelt at the old worn out altar, and thanked God for the holy work which had been done and was continuing to be done because of this old church which had died, but would never disappear.  It was not to be so I spoke my prayers as I walked  to the car waiting to take me once again back out into a world running too fast to remember its past.

Waffle House Evangelism

When on the road, I always like to stop by a Huddle House, or a Waffle House. There is no question about what is going to happen when you walk in those doors.  Several people are going to holler out "Good Morning!"  It is a greeting offered to the good looking ones and the ugly ones, people with dirty britches and those with white shirts and ties.  And, of course, there is no mystery about the menu.  Actually, a menu is not needed.  "Two eggs overlight, grits and sausage, dry toast and coffee,"  or something similar is all that is needed.   Whenever I sit down, I know what is coming.  These eaterys are about one thing.  There is no confusion.   

I seldom sit down in one of those places that I do not think about the church.  The church and its leaders could learn something from the cooks and servers at the Waffle House.  It often seems we have gotten confused about what we are doing when people show up on Sunday morning. We flood their senses with a thousand announcememts which mean nothing to them.  We recite the creeds as if everyone has been reciting them since birth.  And surpisingly enough, sometime Jesus barely gets any mention.   

The church is about Jesus.  No one should show up on Sunday morning and leave without an invitation to consider Jesus as the One of singular importance.  About this there should be no confusion.  No doubt.  Jesus is not just the answer.  He is not just one of the many choices on the ecclesiastical menu, but is the only thing.  When the church starts making substitutes, it is on the way down a slippery slope.

The Scar on the Belly

One thing we all have is a navel.  While some dress as if showing it makes a fashion statement, it is really a scar which speaks of our being connected to our mother during our life in the waters of the womb.  And even as it points toward being connected to another before birth, so is it a reminder that we live best when we embrace the importance of being connected to others in our living. We were not created to live alone on an island and neither were we created to live alone in a vast sea of people.   

Our modern attempts at being connected through our wireless devices is really nothing more than an illusion.  The hope it seems to offer is nothing more than false hope.  Our internet based obsession only speaks of the deep desire within each of us to be connected to another.  It is a natural desire.  We were conceived and birthed with such a desire.  The scar on our belly speaks of this need.   

Our Father God who is our Creator knows of this desire for He planted it within our soul.  And as He works out His plan for us, it always includes relationships with others.  His plans for us cannot be fulfilled apart from community for we were created within community and for a community. The spiritual giants whose stories are told in the Sacred Word did not live in the wilderness as hermits, but as flesh and blood folks who lived in the unsanitized and messy world of relationships. The wholeness we all seek is not found in isolation, but in recognizing that we are apart of created humanity and then embracing it.

The Gift

The day is not rightly lived, nor is it complete until we have thanked God for the gift He has given.  And, it might also be said that we have no claim to any new day in which we breathe the air of the earth until we have expressed gratitude to God for all that is unfolding before us.  Each day is such a precious gift. Like many, I have lived too many days like a foolish man who thinks I am the maker of my days and the one who determines what things will happen within it.    

Some might say it is the young man's illusion.  Perhaps, such is true, but I fear it is not just an illusion of the young, but one which even the old can carry with them in the baggage of life.  Time, experience, and loss does have a way of creating a different view of the days that are afforded us, but sometimes not even this perspective, so framed with reality enables us to see what is so obvious.  What is obvious is that life is fleeting.  It is here for a moment and then gone before there is time for the second breath.  It is so very fragile. What seems so solid and firm can be broken and shattered in the time it takes for the heart to beat.    

The wisdom of the Psalmist is surely seen as he wrote, "Lord, let me know my end and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is.  You have made my days a few handsbreath, and my lifetime is as nothing in Your sight." (Psalm 39:4-5)  It is, therefore, a good thing to know "...there is a season and a time for every matter under the heaven..."  (Ecclesiastes 3:1) and then to live "...making the most of the time..."  (Ephesians 5:15)  To live mindful that life is fleeting and fragile is not a call to live with fear and timidity, but an invitation to receive each moment as a precious gift of God's grace which always means living unafraid to go forth into the wherever His leading takes us.  

The Time of the Evening Breeze

Most people do not regard silence as their friend.  If it is a friend, it makes us feel awkward and uncomfortable.  We move from one foot to the other waiting for it to speak some words which will put us at ease and enable us to feel that our world is being righted.  And while we may be able to manage brief moments of such companionship, we are people of the hurrying world, the noisy world, the world filled with signs that scream and people who are caught up in a stampede toward some yawning cliffs.    

It never really seems to occur to us that we might find our life in the midst of the silence.  Silence is a gift given to us by a gracious and kind Father God who is always beckoning us toward the gift by saying, "Be still and know that I am God..." (Psalm 46:10)   The silence which threatens us is really life giving.  It is God's gift to us which restores our peace when we are broken, it gives us the courage to move against the powerful flow of cultural currents, and most importantly, it opens the door to our true self.  Our true self is the part of us which bears the imprint of the Holy and directs us toward His purpose for living the life He has given.  

Of course, we know the silence into which He beckons to enter is not the one that is defined by the absence of the external noise so much as it is the silence defined by the absence of competing voices in our spirit which then frees us to hear once again the still small voice we first heard in the silence of the creative waters of the womb.  The inner silence that He gives enables us to once again know what it is to walk in Eden's Garden "at the time of the evening breeze."  (Genesis 3:8)  This silence which God stirs within us is the one which causes us to know we have come to the place where we belong.

Trusting in God

Trusting in God seems like such a simple thing to do, but it is difficult for most of us.  The problem for so many of us is that we want to be the engineers of our future.  Even old Abraham, the Biblical model for faith, struggled to keep his spiritual ducks in a row.  He started out well when the Lord said, "Go," but he got off course as he followed the beaten track into Eqypt and such places.  Trusting God is about waiting on God to act.  He is never in a hurry which is what we are mostly about in our living.    

Trusting God keeps us out of hot water.  It may put us in some places where we feel abandoned, forgotten, and lost but those experiences are not filled with the same kind of danger we face when we decide that we know what is best for ourselves and then we set out to make it happen.  With that kind of mindset we are only a step away from making the expedient choices which provide the instant gratification we regard ourselves as needing and deserving.  And we are also only a step away from choosing to abandon the course God has planned for us which puts us in a far more dangerous place than we are when we are overwhelmed with some darkness not of our choosing.   

Trusting and waiting on God keeps us in sync with that plan that He is constantly seeking to work out in our lives.  What we do not often understand is that He is working up ahead of us out of sight beyond the bend in the road.  To trust God means we are willing to wait for what is ahead to unfold into our life.  It means that we understand that life is about submission instead of taking charge.  Our worst moments come when we are in charge and our best ones have come when we waited on Him.  It only takes a look at the road behind us to know this reality as truth.  

The Missing Chicken

Every day I open the chicken pen and let the chickens out to roam.  When out of the pen they are able to find a more varied diet than the chicken feed which stays in the feeder inside the pen.  Chickens scratch and find bugs and stuff to eat in the dirt.  If a moth flies too near, a rather passive looking chicken can suddenly break into a neck stretching run which makes any race horse envious.  They are part of the farmer's entertainment package.   

When the sun gets close to going down and darkness is near, they instinctively waddle back to the safety of the chicken house inside the chicken pen.  Like the Biblical shepherd who counted his hundred sheep coming back to the fold, I noticed one of the five missing the other night when I went out to shut the gate to the pen.  I gave my best chicken call, but all to no avail.  She has been gone a day now which seems to say some predator found her while she was roaming the farm.    

There is always a sadness in losing an animal that belongs to the farm.  It was her home as it is mine.  There have been other such losses.  Moma cows and calves. Chickens.  And, a dog named Susie.  Farm animals are gifts.  They live here awhile.  They have a way of bringing joy in their living and sadness in their dying.  And, so my one chicken that did not return to the pen is missed.  She was not just a chicken.  She was a living part of the creation.  Thus, she bore the imprint of the Creator.  I will miss her waddling presence at my feet as I walk across this part of the creation which we shared together for a moment.  

The Uninvited Guest

I did not hear him knocking.  I did not know he was there until I opened the front door.  And, to be honest, I did not see him at first.  What I saw at the bottom edge of my vision was a blur of something green moving as he hopped univited into the house.  I tried to catch that tiny green rain frog, but he was too fast.  Under the sofa he went.  I moved the sofa and behind a stack of books he hopped.  Since I was on my way to a scheduled appointment, there was not enough time to continue with the eviction so I shut the door and left him to have the run of the house.     

As I walked to the car, I thought of the old saying, "Turnabout is fair play."  To be out on a farm is to live in his world.  I suppose it is only fair that he be allowed to live in mine for a spell.  Of course, I would likely have felt differently if it had been a creature that slithered instead of hopped!  As it was I thought about those lines, "All creatures great and small, the Lord God made them all."  Once again I was reminded that I do not live alone in this holy creation which surrounds me.  It is easy to forget that we are a part of creation and not the center of it.    

For too many of our days we have lived with the false notion that the creation exists for our benefit when there is a strong thread of mutual dependence holding it together.  The creation is not here for us to use and exhaust and exploit, but to join with us in giving glory to the Creator.  And if we learn to see what cannot be seen and to hear what cannot be heard, we fill find that this creation filled with glorious sunsets and tiny green rain frogs is a means through which the Creator speaks and makes Himself known to us.  

The Final Community

One thing for which I have always wished, but never had and never will is the sense of belonging that comes from being born into a small community, going to school with the same people from grade one to the moment of strutting across the diploma stage, and then living the rest of life among those to whom there is that unique sense of belonging.  I came to this community some thirteen years and while I have been accepted and claimed, I still wear the tag of an outsider who was married to my wife, Lynn, some one who was born here, grew up here, and belongs here.  It is the nature of small town communities where belonging is such a birthright that those not born here are always different.     

In these recent days my grief and sense of loss keeps me going to the local cemetery where my wife of 53 years is buried.  I stand there midst a community John O'Donohue calls "this silent field" in his poem entitled, "On Passing a Graveyard."  It is a more inclusive community made up of the old timers and newly born, those who are born into the busy community where lives are lived and those like myself who are always "the outsider," the affluent and the poor.  There is nothing among the raised stones which divides.  In this silent field, everyone is the same and comes as one who belongs.   

But, it is not the last community.  At times it seems like the final gathering place, but our faith enables us to see "that land that is fairer than day"  and the gathering of those who all wear the whites robes that have been washed in the blood of the Lamb.  (Revelation 7:14)   The community of the raised stones is not the final community for it is eternally transcended by the gathering of the great cloud of heavenly witnesses spoken of in Hebrews 12:1.  There in the heavenly place is the final community where God's grace enables us to dwell not as an outsider, but as one who belongs, not for a fleeting moment, but for eternity.  This heavenly community is the one which has the last word for those who seek the Home promised by the Christ.  It is where we belong.

The White Page Struggle

There are times when the empty white page wins the struggle.  Finding the words which are hidden in that stark whiteness is not always easy.  Sometimes the words leap from not being seen into the realm of the visible words on the page and then there are those moments filled with false starts and deleting.  In the old days I suppose it was the kind of moment when those who wrote filled up the trash can with wadded up paper jerked in frustration from the typewriter.  Over the years of preaching and writing I have known more than just a few of those days.   

In a way it reminds me of how it is in those moments when I draw aside and alone for quiet moments of being in the presence of the Holy One.  One thing we all seek in those moments of drawing apart is an awareness of holy presence.  There are those times when I do all the things seekers such as myself might normally do like getting still, reading some Scripture, and praying the prayers that are to be prayed only to find that the emptiness known in the beginning lingers still in my heart.  My soul may "long for flowing streams" (Psalm 42:1) as does the running deer, but the Living God seems nowhere to be found.  In those moments of seeking and longing, the seeking seems to be one that echoes in a chamber of emptiness.   

Such moments are sure to come to all of us.  We may think we have some magic ritualistic formula which is going to cause God to appear, but His coming and going into the visible conscious realm of our inner being is not determined by what we do, but more about what He is doing in our lives.  I prefer those moments when it seems that the Spirit rushes into my life like an overflowing stream, flowing beyond its boundaries, instead of those moments when the word of my heart seems to go forth unheard.  As we walk the road of faith we begin to understand that there is divine wisdom in those moments of apparent emptiness and that the real reality is that they are not really empty, but as full of holy purpose as those moments which flood and wash over the soul.

The Holy Poetry

Prose and poetry both tell their stories, but in such different ways.  Prose fills up all the white spaces with orderly nouns and pronouns, adjectives and adverbs, precise sentences and flowing paragraphs.  Prose fills in the gaps not only on the page, but also in the telling the words seek to do.  Leaving nothing to the unknown, prose creates an idea and drives it home as a hammer drives a nail into waiting wood.  Poetry, on the other hand, loves the white space.  It leaves plenty of it beneath the words which are as illusive as cloud covered images and head scratching mystery.  Poetry creates the images with the words and trusts the reader to take the invisible and make it visible.   

Maybe this is part of the reason most folks who read the Word of God find themselves drawn to those Old Testament words known as the Psalms.  The Psalms are filled with the images of poetry and the white spaces underneath that declare that mystery is present.  And, mystery is present.  But, it is not the mystery of the "who dun it" books for there is no mistaking who has done it.  There is no mistaking the One who is shrouded in mystery and beckons us to use all our senses to know Him, to see Him, and to hear Him.  The Psalms call us to encounter the Holy One not with our heads, but with our hearts.  They invite us not to intellectual reasoning, but to crying tears of sorrow and to wild exhuberant dancing in the streets of our soul.    

I am grateful to my mother for introducing me to these powerful words when I was just a boy trying to memorize the words to please her, later to earn a star on a memory achievement poster at church, and even later to bring holy comfort to the struggles of my spirit and the spirits of others.  So many of the words and phrases of those Psalms have been carried with me in a book that has always been open in the innermost regions of my heart.  They have encouraged me.  They have caused me to raise my hand to receive blessings and offer praise.  They have been the blood and breath of my life and I am forever grateful for the Holy Inspirer of that poetry created for the soul.

The One Who Comes

We all have loss in our life.   Loss is about losing what is precious to us which makes it painful.  The first remembered loss may be something like a broken toy, or the death of a  pet, or the divorce of a  parent.  All are painful.  They continue to come in bundles as the years begin to add up as we turn lose of jobs, homes, parents, spouses, and even children.   No one is immune.  Loss and grief are one of those common denominators in the equation of lfe.  

The Word of God tells us about loss and grief as it tells the story of Abraham at the burial cave of Sarah where he mourned and wept.  (Genesis 23:2).  It is the story told from Mt. Pisgah as the Israelites mourned and wept thirty days for Moses. (Deuteronomy 34:8)  And, it is a story wrapped in the tears of a father crying for his Son as did David for Absalom. (II Samuel 18:33)   Even in the story that ends in resurrection do we see the widow of Nain grieving for her son, Jesus weeping at the tomb of Lazarus, and women filled with grief going to the tomb of Jesus that Sunday morning.  Loss brought these people of the holy story to dark and hard places, but in those places they were always encountered by the One who is eternally present with all of us.  

He is with us in the moments of living, in the moments of loss, in the moments of turning loose, and in the moments of trying to find life beyond the grief of our personal loss.  It may take time to see Him.  It  may seem that He should have shown up sooner as was the case with Mary and Martha at the death of their brother, but He does show.  He does come.  When the time is ready for His coming, the Words of comfort He has to speak, and the push into the future He still holds for us, we can count on Him to be present.  Jesus promised to never leave us, to never forsake us, and not even loss and grief has the power to overcome that promise.  

A Litmus Test

Any discussion on spiritiual gifts is going to include at least three sections of Scripture.  The first and, perhaps, the primary one is I Corinthians 12.  The second is Romans 12 and the third one is Ephesians 4.  And while there is within those verses a listing of spiritual gifts, it is not necessarily an exclusive list to which gifts not mentioned in Scripture might be added.   For example, as best I can determine there is no mention of intercessory prayer as a spiritual gift; yet, we know people who seem as if they are mysteriously gifted in offering prayers for others.    

When Paul wrote to the Christians at Ephesus, he was led by the Spirit to use some powerful images to flesh out his teaching on spiritual gifts.  In Ephesians 4:12 he wrote that spiritual gifts are given "to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ."  Here is a statement of purpose and a litmus test to use as we discern if some gift not mentioned is truly a spiritual gift.  Spiritual gifts are not given to create a class of super saints, nor are they given to put the one with the gift in the spotlight.   

One of the teachings of the New Testament which is becoming more and more alien to our church culture is the one which affirms that the needs of the community supercede the needs of the individual.  Many of the strange and difficult to understand acts of God in the Old Testament can be seen as something which seeks to protect the identity and the integrity of the people of God and here in this passage about spiritual gifts there is once again a clear reminder that spiritual gifts are not given to set certain saints apart from and above others, but to provide the needs of the spiritual community.