Mountaintop.....or plain

It was an interesting challenge from a friend in my Bible study group.  I had commented on how I had envied his mountaintop conversion experience, and with it a certainty of salvation and faith in God.  And the close, emotional connection to God that came from it.  For me, who has wrestled with faith for so many years (and never "feeling" it), it seemed the preferable path over my slow, laborious , plodding search.

What I hadn't realize, and what he challenged me on, was the burden that came with the mountaintop.  He looked at the mountaintop as being a challenge, a standard he need to meet.  Saved "from" he understood; saved "for" ...that was what he struggled to grasp and realize.  He felt a burden to live up to what he saw as the exceeding expectations of the experience.  I, on the other hand, struggled with the lack of a definable experience, of feeling somehow that the plebeian, pedestrian path I plodded along lacked purpose, promise, portent...and passion.

Two different events.  Two different vantagepoints.  Yet both of us struggling with our self-imposed expectations and inadequacies.  What we know, and yet still need to know, experience and embrace, is the unconditional love of God who loves each of us no less than he loves Himself, for He gave Himself for us. 

We both struggle with where our lives are, and how those lives are so, so different from what we wanted and expected from our faith.  He, struggling for his very life itself in the face of a relentless onslaught of cancer, when he fully expected to use his life to reach to others (and had already started doing so).  Me, a life unalterably changed by divorce where I lost family and future in one swoop, leaving me to face a life alone and unloved on earth.


In the last couple of days, I have wondered if God gave my friend the mountaintop because He knew he would need it.  That in facing death at such an early age, and so new in faith, he was given a passion, a depth of that experience to draw on that others wouldn't need. 

Neither of us dreamed this would be what our Christian experience would be.

"Talents" thoughts, Part 2

The parable of the talents in Matthew 25 raises a question for me.  Every sermon I have heard preached on it covers one aspect of it the same way. 
 “His master replied, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant! You have been faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Come and share your master’s happiness!’

The master is always viewed as God.  Numerous are the references that I've heard to us wanting to be the "...good and faithful servant..." who gets to share in his master's happiness.  But....does this analogy really work?  The part that bothers me (on a couple of levels) is

 “His master replied, ‘You wicked, lazy servant! So you knew that I harvest where I have not sown and gather where I have not scattered seed? ²⁷ Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest.
²⁸ “‘So take the bag of gold from him and give it to the one who has ten bags. ²⁹ For whoever has will be given more, and they will have an abundance. Whoever does not have, even what they have will be taken from them. ³⁰ And throw that worthless servant outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’

The master is a hard master, who invokes fear in the heart of the servant.  When the servant doesn't improve his master's wealth, he is punished not just by having the small amount in his possession removed from him, he is thrown out into the darkness as well.

If the master is indeed God, does this mean that if we fail to improve His wealth (in some way, whether it be improving funds, or gathering souls) that we will be cast out into darkness and abandoned?  This doesn't seem to jive with the perspective of  Romans 8:38-39 "For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, ³⁹ neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."   While that doesn't explicitly say that God Himself isn't able to separate us, it would surely seem that His Grace and Mercy would not condemn us for a failure to perform.  Ah.  Failure to perform.

At the heart of my struggle, here and in general, is the failure to perform.  A failure to live up to the standards, to be less than perfect.  I have struggled for years to believe the precept of grace, that Christ's death covers my sins, and that nothing I do can bring me closer to God that what Christ has done.  I found a note in some old musings this weekend, that reminded me that God does not love me any less than He loves Christ Himself (not because of anything I have done, but because " If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved (Rom 10:9)  If I believe that Christ is God, that should mean that my vacillations in prayer life, in Bible study, in the application of His Word to my life....none of those cause me to be condemned anymore than any of them cause me to be justified in His eyes.  

Maybe there's a difference in the attitude of the three servants.  Perhaps the third one isn't acting out of love, but out of fear.  Maybe the other two gave themselves whole heartedly to their master, in a desire (rather than an obligation) to improve the master's lot.  But ...does being fearful constitute a condition that would separate us from God?  Perfect love casts out fear (I John 4:18) (but is that His love casting out my fear, or my accepting His love casting out my fears)?  If I'm a servant but still fearful does that mean I'm too flawed to be saved?

Perhaps I read too much into the parable.  Maybe the understanding trails back to the end of Matthew 24.  There, the disobedient servant is hypocritical (as well as lazy) and abuses the master's materials while He is away. ⁴⁸ But suppose that servant is wicked and says to himself, ‘My master is staying away a long time,’ ⁴⁹ and he then begins to beat his fellow servants and to eat and drink with drunkards. ⁵⁰ The master of that servant will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour he is not aware of. ⁵¹ He will cut him to pieces and assign him a place with the hypocrites, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. That would seem to be consistent, the failure of the servant with one talent was his hypocrisy.  He abuses the power and responsibility.....abuses grace by willingly sinning and figuring that there is no need to obey the master.  But if that, then are there an awful lot of Christians who would be cast out because they are not living up to the life God desires for us?  Or does that go back to work and performance?

Maybe reading ahead into Matthew 26, the answer is tied to the audience.  It was after these teachings that the religious leaders began to plot to kill Jesus.  Was it because THEY were the hypocrites that Jesus was talking about, the chosen people who were squandering the blessings of God?  The ones who lay burdens on the people and drove them away from the Law of God into their own Law of regulations?

<Sigh>.  These are some of the reasons I struggle. God, please open my heart to Your Love, to Your Spirit.  Grant me wisdom enough....no, grant me faith enough...to love You and listen to You when my spirit leads astray.  Thank you Father that in some aspects of my life, I am doing better at doing Your will.

"Talents" thoughts, Part 1

During a recent sermon, my pastor made a reference to the parable of the talents in a way with which I had not previously connected.  I have always viewed the story from the standpoint of the ending, of how many talents each was able to earn for the Master.  But I got a different insight when the minister emphasized the start of the story:
" To one he gave five talents of gold, to another two talents, and to another one talent, each according to his ability" (Matt 25:15).  

I hadn't seen it before.  They started off differently.  It was a decision of the Master to give differing amounts to each servant.  Maybe the importance for me is not in what they ended with but what they started with.  I have struggled with my faith for years now, coming up on at least a decade.  I have looked at those in church who sing and lift arms to Him in praise, those who sway to the music; these are things that don't come to me.  I have looked at those for whom faith has been solid, firm, straightforward, clear and compelling; for me it has always been full of questions, sidebars, ambiguity, and doubts in my journey.  I've always wondered why there are those who can clearly show and experience the love of God, the Joy of the Lord, and ....then there's me, an Eeyore in the Hundred Faithful Woods.

I suspect that I have talents in varying degrees in different areas of my life (some would say "well d-u-h" but they aren't clear to me).  Some of them may be 5 talents sized skills and abilities, some of them one talent sized.  Maybe in the area of faith, I've been given one talent...or a penny (for which two sparrows are sold). A single talent.  Maybe it has just been my allotment to have a smaller starter amount than most others.  The amount of talents given were not determined by the servants, and not based on any feature we can discern, but given by Him based on abilities as determined by the Master.   

So perhaps I should learn to rest with the single talent size of faith that I have. Perhaps I should just acknowledge that the I AM who made me, granted to me the life long challenge of dealing with my Thomas faith, my Jonah attitude, my Gideon courage.  

I just....I just feel so poor sometimes.

Empty Easter

I had a thought the other day about the emptiness of Easter, and the significance of it. 

The emptiness of the Cross was what first caught my attention.  On Friday, the Cross was filled with Christ.  It was filled with His suffering, and with the enormous cesspool of human sin.  But at the end of the day, He was brought down and buried.  The cross had been full.  Full of God Himself, full of blood, full of sin being drowned in the blood. Full of Him emptying Himself out for our salvation.  Poured out, and then....it was over.  That evening, the cross was empty, and would not ever be filled again.  His sacrifice covered us, once, for all. 

That day the Temple was emptied as well.  The Mercy Seat of God, the I AM who sat in the presence of His people in the Tabernacle, and then in the Temple, was now empty.  God no longer dwelt in the Temple.  The veil that separated the Holy God from the chosen people was torn, the doors thrown open by the quake.  What had been living there, now was going to live in us.  So the Temple was emptied.

Sunday, the Tomb was empty.  Having gone to mourn, gone to weep, the women arrived at the tomb to find it ....emptied.  The body they had expected to find was not there."Why do you look for the living among the dead?" (Luke 24:5)  "You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised." (Mark 16:6)  Death had been defeated.  Separation from God had been defeated, proven by an empty tomb.

So then..... what does the emptiness say to me? It says God, in the person of Christ, has emptied my cross of sin.  It says God has emptied the useless Temple-like sacrifices I make to Him, and opened the Temple of Himself to me.  It says He has freed me from a tomb...even if so often I feel like Thomas in needing to feel the wounds in order to not feel so empty myself.

God, grant me rebirth.  Grant me fullness in you.  Fill me with Your love, for the greatest of these is love. 

The Saturday between

They watched Him crucified by Rome on a terrible Friday afternoon.  They were lost.  A brave Jewish leader claimed the body, prepared it,and laid it to rest before the start of the Sabbath.  Night descended on the world -- both literally and figuratively -- in darkness and sorrow and pain.

Now what?

Saturday dawned, or maybe it just came around, with no one really noticing a sunrise.  Grief sat heavy upon the disciples.  It sat heavy upon God Himself, for the part of His nature that was the Father was grieving the death of the part of Himself that was the Son.  Even knowledge of His plan, and of His pending resurrection likely could not remove the pain of loss He felt in the separation from His Son. Before the joy of Resurrection there was the sorrow of Saturday, even for God.

I forget that I have to go through Saturdays.

The losses for me are by no means on the scale of His loss; mine are infinitesimally smaller.  Yet, for a small, simple, broken human, they are still losses.  The cry to God over the loss of career goals and hitting a ceiling before I wanted to.  The long dark hours of pain from the loss of a marriage, and later the loss of a relationship with my child.  This weekend, this Saturday, I was mourning the loss of a relationship I struggled to understand and to make work, one that brought great happiness and great hurt at the same time. 

I know that I face nothing that God hasn't faced.  We talk about the temptations that Jesus faced in the desert, but we don't examine the losses as much.  A Father separated from His children. The loss of His plans because of our sin.  The pain of a Saturday that must be endured before the fullness of time has come to roll away a stone.  And unlike Thomas, I don't get to see the Lord, to hold Him.  I have to draw strength from His words ("Blessed are those who believe without seeing me" John 20:29) and believe that the Sunday will follow....and the joy.

Lord, help me to believe.

 

http://www.sunday-school-center.com/easter-sunday-school-lessons.html

Both ends of a week: Palms to Cross

I was out walking on Saturday, for the first time since my plantar fasciitous flared up.  God, I miss the time outside walking, putting my body on auto pilot and turning my mind free to think, pray, meditate, connect with God.

I happen to be thinking about this week.  It is the pinnacle week of the Christian faith.  Yet it has always been a bit of a puzzle to me.  One day, Jesus enters Jerusalem on a carpet of palm fronds and shouts of adulation.  A few days later His life is given away for the freedom of a murderous revolutionary zealot.  What happened between Thursday morning and Friday morning?  What caused the crowds who still followed that week to turn on Him and cast Him to His fate?

from www.12printablecalendar.com

He failed them.  He didn't do what they wanted, what they expected, and in so doing....He failed them.  So they rejected Him.

The crowds were still following on Thursday.  After his arrest, there was still a crowd. I had missed this before, that there was a crowd still following him (although the disciples fled).  It was in this crowd that Peter was challenged  "After a little while, those standing there went up to Peter and said, “Surely you are one of them; your accent gives you away." (Matt26:73) and he denied the Man and God he had followed and lived with for three years.  There was obviously a crowd that followed to Pilate "“What is truth?” retorted Pilate. With this he went out again to the Jews gathered there and said, “I find no basis for a charge against him" (John 18:38) and it was a crowd that asked to make the choice of Barabbas or Christ. 

They watched Him in the court of the Sanhedrin and religious leaders, and in the court of the Roman prelate.  One represented the laws and rules that governed their daily lives and their faith in God, the other court representing the hated occupiers of the land.  When they asked the Incarnate One who He was, if He was the Son of God, He answered in a familiar term of "I AM".  And yet He did nothing.  He did not call down legions of angels, the hosts of Heaven.  He did not overturn the civil rule of Rome, or the religious law of the Pharisees.  He said very little, and did less.  Things would continue, it seemed.  

So they turned on Him because He did not meet their expectations, did not answer their prayers, did not do what they so wanted Him to do.   He let them down, and they turned on Him.

Yeah.  I've so been there.

It happened when I lost my first job.  After five years of Bible study groups in college and fellowship with believers, I found myself alone in my first job.  No church, no study, no roommates.  And when I lost that first job to a downsize, I got angry at God.  We spoke almost not at all for years.  The continued thorn in my flesh, which He did not relieve, didn't help.  Through the marriage and the cold, impersonal, unfeeling church (the Bishop even said that to the Pastor after a visit), was of little help.  When I did return to Him, during the slow painful dissolution of the marriage and the loss of all sense of where my life was going, I still came with expectations.  And when the marriage ended, and 
an important volunteer ministry did too....I walked away again.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

Except I really didn't.  It was the start of my wrestling with God, my Jacob time.  Even now I'm struggling with God and my expectations.  I want my foul depressive mood to be gone, my sense of always being an outsider to be banished.  I want love in my life, for others and with someone.  I want His presence to be palpable to me.  I want....I expect....yeah.  Just like the crowd.  He doesn't deliver what I expect, what I desire, and I call for His life.

He gave it, though.  Just like He did to the first crowd.  He does accomplish His work.  He did overturn Rome, and the Jewish religious establishment.  He gave His life then, for them, for me.  

I get it.  And I don't.  But I keep going forward. 

And want more walks, to find more of Him as I walk.   

The other Job......her.

As I write the title of the blog, I realize how many different ways the title could be taken, which wasn't my original intention.  No, it's not related to your job at work, or to Steve at Apple.  It's the story of Job, as told in the Old Testament.  Actually, it's an observation on the person in the story that, in all my years of church attendance (which has had a general paucity of sermons on any aspect of Job), I have never heard mentioned in a sermon.

His wife.

In the opening of the story, she is the silent but still present participant.  She is his wife, ostensibly the mother of his children, the collaborator in his life.  Since Job is blameless before Jehovah God, it would be reasonable to assume that Job treats his wife well.  One could suppose some degree of intimacy between them, especially since she is likely endowed with great beauty and they have a large family.

So when the evil one is permitted by God to wipe out Job's children and his wealth, she alone of his family remains and is not physically destroyed.  She is not taken, but her children are, the blessedness of seven sons along with daughters.  Her status and standing as wife of the richest man around are gone.  Her world is ripped out and her means of being supported are gone.  Everything she has on this planet other than her husband is taken from her.  He mourns.  She mourns.   And then his health is shattered as well, leaving her with no community (ostracized) no support, no source of income, no ability to provide or be provided for.  And no one to talk to, for Job is sitting in a heap of ashes scrapping his sores.

Her response, in that setting, is unsurprising.  She lashes out at her husband in her one sentence eternal cry “Are you still maintaining your integrity? Curse God and die!” 

It says a lot, doesn't it.When in life have you reacted the same way to God?  I know I have.  When I was laid off from my first job, and had no support network, no ability to process the pain and shame I was suffering.  It happened again when the job I loved doing was moved to another state and they didn't want to take me.  An anger based response is, really, pretty natural. 

And then I wondered, was I reading her reaction right?  Was she angry at God and wanted to express it through a reaction from her suffering husband?  Was she angry at Job, thinking that this was all from some secret sin he had hidden from her? Or.....or was it a fatalism and despair that with everything gone, she wanted to just curse God as a means of ending her own life.

We don't know which of these she wanted to do.  We do know her faithful husband told her they were foolish words, words that apparently didn't match their life and faith.  Maybe, as a lesson to us, they are left there to show that the words won't leave us destroyed.  That are reactions and emotions are allowed, even if they are not desirable.

In many respects I wonder what happened to her relationship with God as things moved on. The fortune and family of Job was restored, including a blessing of seven sons.  Her children were the most beautiful in the land "Nowhere in all the land were there found women as beautiful as Job’s daughters..." (Job 42:15).  

I wonder about what the lesson is for me.   As my marriage was ending I cried out to God for help. When I physically moved out, I wanted God's presence even through my animalistic wails.  I've still struggled with seeing His love in the depths of my darker moments over the years.  But ..... but I've learned that I can express myself to God, even if the expression is anger and hurt and pain.  

Because He has been there too.  And will meet me there.

Fred Phelps Usefulness

The patriarch of the Westboro Baptist Church has died.

On one level, words fail to describe the absolute loathing and contempt I have for him and the organization of loathsome, repugnant, repulsive, malformed, misanthropic, knuckle dragging cohorts.  That they are, and should be, an anathema to genuine human beings.  Their masquerade as Baptists and as Christians is unconscionable.  They represent the absolute worst of human kind.  My reaction to his death is to wonder, deliciously, whether his having to face an angry vengeful God would be worse, or to face a kind and loving God who is the antithesis of his own beliefs.

And yet.....

In a discussion at work with a friend the other day, he made an astute observation.  He and I understand that Westboro has no real relationship, no connection, to the Christian faith or the God of the Bible.  What they vomited in terms of attitude and actions represents a position abhorrent to the beliefs of mainstream (and even offshoot) Christian theology and practice.  That this group's misappropriating of both the name of Christ and the Church that worships the True God could lead others to think that Christians could believe and act that way, is blasphemous.  What Westboro believed has nothing to do with Christ and Christians and Christianity.

Maybe just like jihidists have nothing to do with Islam.

My friends point was a good one.  How much of the non-western world views the West (culture and faith) as being synonymous with Christianity?  How many see people of Westboro's ilk as being what Christians are? Do we view Islam the same way?  Do we hear only the shrill anti-western rhetoric of the most vocal of the extremists and assume it represents the views of a billion people spread across the globe from North Africa to Indonesia?  Have we done anything to find the faithful, the mainstream, the rational followers of Islam and hear their words or see their world?  There was an exhibit a couple of years ago at the Smithsonian that displayed the contributions of Muslim culture to the world and to the West.  It was fascinating to see what that faith and civilization brought forth, even as today we see it only as destructive and hateful.  Maybe like others see Westboro.

Perhaps this could be an opportunity to open lines of communication, open eyes and minds across a spectrum of religious belief.  Even as a follower of Christ, I need to see others as being created in the image of God (Gen 1:27), made only a little lower than God Himself (Ps 8:3-8), something that I struggle with many times in my self-centeredness.  Maybe this would be a time that Churches and Mosques and Synagogues and other houses of worship could reach out to each other, in understanding to close some of the distances in the world.

Wouldn't that be an amazing thing to see?

All?

For a long time I have struggled with the concept of "all".  It is an absolute that, I suspect, terrifies me, and it shows up in in some major ways. We are told that the first and great commandment is to love the Lord with all your heart, all your mind and all your soul (Matt 22:37).  I realize that I have yet to get to any one of those three, much less all of them. 

I suspect the question that I have relates to understanding if this is a commandment, a required way of living, or an illustration of the type of way we are to live.  In the extreme, to love the Lord with all of me requires me to not think or care about anyone else.  Even with the caveat that Jesus follows this with, "And the second is like it..." (Matt 22:38) that still leaves no time or no ability or no space to do or think or be anything but absolutely and totally devoted to God all the time in all circumstances.  We should all then becomes monks, devoting our lives to worship and praise of the King of Kings.  Yet, that then leads to questions about how much thought and energy am I allowed to expend in the world working, eating, playing, loving? I don't believe this is a literal call to monastery, even if there are a few are called that way. 

Another aspect is the fiscal.  I have wondered about this quite a bit, at the number of Christ followers who live in big houses, drive fine cars, take great vacations.  Should we instead be giving all of that away to the poor?  If the moderate position says we can have some material possessions, then how much house is acceptable?  500 sq ft?  1000 sq ft? 3500?  If I fail to give everything away to the poor, does that diminish me in some form to Christ and His kingdom?

The absolute nature of "all" echoes as well in Luke 14:26 where Christ says "“If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple."  That would, I think, lead to very small families, very few disciples, and a very short lived religion.

I think the reason these examples bother me is two fold.  First, they represent, to me, verses that are so clearly illustrative and not declarative.  I've struggled with some of Francis Chan in "Crazy Love" and "Multiply" (in two different Bible study groups) because he talks about reading the Bible literally.....and I just can't see that.  Yes, some should clearly be taken literally, but which parts should be is not perfectly clear or straightforward.  My hope is that my objection is not just because I am sinful and want to avoid God, but because I am tired of people misusing His Word to further shame or direct or marginalize people by those techniques.  I WANT to love the Lord far more than I do, but don't know how to do it.  These statements as declarative don't bring me closer, they drive me further away.  To pull from "one Way Love" by Tullian Tchividjian, legalism doesn't inspire people to do better, it causes them to give up.  And I don't want to give up.

Second, I have found that my connection with God improves when the decision of how much and when and how are made by me through the prompting of His Spirit.  I know that people telling me to give hasn't made me want to give, it was the demonstration of generosity by others that did.  It was not a command to read the Bible that caused me to, but the realization that I wanted to know Him better, or to track through a verse that causes me to question or to see things differently. 

I don't think I will get to "all" on this side of life.  What I want on this side is to be moving in that direction, freely, because I hear Him calling me.  Lord, please let me hear You better, to be stirred by Your Spirit, to move closer to You as I continue to live life here.  Amen.

Everyday bushes

I was taking a walk this fall, enjoying one of the great days we had this past season.  I love the fall, with the feel of the air and the colors of the trees.  The street I was on happened to be lined with maples, so that as last in the season as it was, they were ablaze in reds, oranges, golds, and shades of each of those that I had no names for.  I was thinking of them allegorically, wondering what poem I could create about them and the blaze of colors that I saw, when it hit me.

Burning bush.

My burning bushes were trees.  Or maybe more accurately the trees were my burning bushes.

The point of the burning bush was not to just prove God's power, although it did that.  The point was to get Moses's attention and have him meet and connect with the Great I AM (Exodus 3:3 So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up").  Maybe the bush wasn't really on fire, maybe it just looked that way.  Maybe it was just colorful, maybe it was full of colorful birds, or fruit, or it was the play of water across it.  The point was to get Moses over to it so the Almighty God could speak to him.  

So perhaps these trees were to remind me of God.  To get me to consider His creation and His goodness in giving beauty.  To explore, as Paul says in the letter to the Romans, the signs and wonders in the world that display God's existence (Romans 1:20).  It worked that day, for my thoughts turned to the Lord for the rest of the walk.

How many every day burning bushes do I see, and fail to see, that could turn me to see God?  Lord, may I be aware of those things in the world around me that remind me of You; may I be reminded of You in all the things in the world around me, that I may learn to be closer to You.

Questioning heart

Over the course of years, I have found that different versions of the Bible have the ability, through their choice of words or the structure of those words, to impact me in new or challenging ways.  It is the variation in how a thought or phrase is worded that can impact me at different times in my life.

The section in Mark 2 is one that hit me one morning recently at church.  It is even possible that I didn't initially hear it correctly, but heard it with a God-directed ear. 

"Why do you question these things in your heart?"

It's a bring-me-up-short question.  I don't want to be a Pharisee.  They could see and hear first had the Word of God made flesh, and yet were unwilling to see Him as He was, and to see Him for who He was.  They were so wrapped up in their legalistic, hypocritical, self-important world of self-justification that this missed God's Word dwelling among them.  And I wonder if I do any better?  Am I missing Him because of my own self-regulating nature, a fear of letting go and trusting Him?  Am I questioning because I am seeking or because I am trying to escape Him (as though you could flee from a God who finds you wherever you are ....Psalm 139:7-12)?

On the other hand, I hear acceptance of honest questioning.  Nicodemus questioned, and it was fine (John 3).  Nathaniel questioned  (John 1:45-49) but believed and accepted the Living Truth.  Thomas doubted and Jesus reached out to him (John 20).  So I 'hear' that questions and questioning are acceptable.  Or at least they are until they become so stubborn that they cause the mind to choke off the heart (Matt 13:22) and blind the eyes, as happened to the Pharisees.

I even question sometimes why it is that I want to believe.  Do I really want Jesus to be my Christ and Lord and light of my life?  Or do I want to believe and hope that He will provide a human helpmate to me?  Do I love HIM, or do I just not want the heartache of not being special to anyone anymore?

Regardless, my prayers these days are just Jesus take my will and my life, to be the love of my life, and let me desire to draw ever closer to you.
Amen.

Evidence

It's interesting how three holes can remind me of a broken and sinful nature, both my own and all of mankind.

The three holes are found in a concrete slab along the path of my daily (I wish it were daily, but ....not in this weather) walks.  They are the mounting holes for a relocatable traffic camera that is within a half block of an elementary school along a crowded and bustling residential street.
The thought came to me as I was walking by it...."I could do X and render it useless for the cameras" What?

WHAT??

WHERE did THAT come from??

I'm (generally) a law abiding, rules following person. Viewed (to use a phrase from a favorite movie, Guys and Dolls) as an upright, forthright square.  And yet, there is this vestige remnant that puts the idea in me to be a vandal.  I've never thought about destroying a stop sign, or a street lamp, or a mailbox.  So....why this?  If you ask me about the need for speed cameras along this street, I'd say yes they are needed; people travel way too fast along this route, even with children outside.

I don't know why the thought came to me to deface that foundation, but it DOES effectively remind me that all humans are fallen creatures...all have sinned (Rom 3:23), there is none righteous, no not one (Rom. 3:10).  For we all have rejected God, regardless of how good we think we are.  Our hearts are wicked and deceitful, who can know it? (Jer 17:9)

So now, I have my own visual reminder that no matter how good I pretend to be, how forthright I think I am, there are still seeds from a bad apple in me, just wanting to burst forth.

Knocking on the door, Rattlin at the Gates

Another long walk (I walk a lot), another faith image that comes to mind (I think a lot during my walks).

"Behold, I stand at the door and knock...."  It's from Revelation 3:20, and within evangelical circles is famous for describing how Jesus seeks to enter the heart of all who seek Him and all who cry out to Him, so that all who call on Him, who ask Him into their lives, may be saved.  Yet, God will not force us into belief, it is a decision for us to make based on our will.  We are not automatons, and while He could have made us perfect, it would have required a loss of our will.  I've heard it described that God is a gentleman and would not force Himself onto us, He must be invited in to our lives.

I feel at times that more than Him standing at the door of my heart and knocking, that at times I stand at the Lord's gates, looking in. Or maybe sometimes it feels like I'm standing and shaking the fence and gates, trying to get in.  Taking the handle and frantically and repeatedly pulling on it in the same desperate way the kids in slasher movies are trying to open a door to escape the killer.  I want in, want safety, shelter, sanctuary.  I know there is a killer after me.  I know what a "killer" life is , know that it and its henchmen are after me.  So I know I need, and want, God in my life.

I wonder sometimes if I'm slow to see the door open to let Him in.  Or perhaps I am not inviting enough to Him.  Sort of like my ex is, when I she stands inside the house and opens the door but stands as a human barricade to keep it from opening too far, or allowing me too much opportunity to enter.  Am I like that with God?  I want to surrender my will and my life to God.  I've prayed.  I've repented,  I've fallen.  I've gotten up again.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

I think I expect, or maybe better yet I hope for, a mountain top experience (like Elijah in 1Kings 19, or the apostles with Jesus in Matthew 17).  To have one of those moments where the heavens open up and a dove descends (Mark 1). (Okay, a bit over the top but it drives home a point).  Maybe the Lord has responded and has made His way in to my life and is making Himself at home. Maybe He's already /still here working on the defects in my life/home.

Defects?  Oh yes -- faulty wiring, hazardous materials, maybe even an unsafe foundation.  I think maybe it's not so much unsafe as settling (do you think? ;)

Maybe I'm turned around and am already on the right side of the gates.  Maybe my compassion for others, my engaging the LORD in prayer and discussion, my yearning to fill the voids Pascal references inside of me with Him and not other things.....maybe this is evidence I'm on the right side of the fence after all.

Now that's a nice thought :)

Life changing phrase

Words fill our lives everyday, sometimes washing over like a tsunami in their shear volume and relentlessness.  Yet, on rare occasions, a few pithy word become life altering and direction changing.

Several years ago I was part of a study group at church for those new to faith, or newly returned.  For me, it was newly returned, after years of being a faithless, murmuring follower (see Exodus and Numbers).  The most salient part of that study was not the study itself, as good as it was, but a word spoken by one of the members.  As we went around the opening introductions, Erin described herself as "...a world champion God-wrestler". 

In that moment, in that phrase, I knew/heard that it was alright to have doubts and questions.  I heard that it was alright for my faith to push back and to challenge and grapple with the Truth.  I heard God-wrestler, not like Moses protesting his lack of skill (Exodus 4), or Gideon asking for repeated fleeces (Judges 6), but grappling and wrestling like Jacob with the angel ...or was it God himself (Genesis 32)...striving for a blessing.

It has been six years since I heard that phrase.  I've not seen Erin since then, to tell her how significant and life changing that phrase has been. I have heard since then, or perhaps just focused more as a result of the phrase, of those who have challenged God -- Abraham, Moses, David, Elijah, Job...Thomas.  These years have been my own Jacob-time, freely acknowledged.  Its been interesting too, as I've going along, to find out how many others have questions, although generally they are not as many as mine!

So I keep wrestling.  I don't think I've had my hip touched yet or gone lame (but interestingly I think I have a touch of arthritis in my right hip!), but I continue to wrestle.  Grace. Legalism. Faith. Love. Works, Church. Forgiveness. Salvation.   In that phrase I gained a freedom to explore that I had not had before.  Freedom to talk to God openly and directly about His word, His Church, and about....his adopted son, me.  Ultimately, I want to close the 18" gap between my head and my heart.  I want to love and experience God with all my heart and mind and soul. 

Wrestling involves contact, intimacy, and going through all of this may be a sign that the gap is closing. 

I hope so.

Aural Bethel

Sometimes things aren't what you remember, and have the hand of God in them when you least suspect.

The winter of 2010, in particular the first couple of months of it, were pretty terrible, truth be told.  Suffering as I do from seasonal affective disorder, there had been frequent snowfalls during December and into January that were driving me down.  February was the cruelest month, with snowmageddon trapping me in the apartment for a week.  Concurrently with it, there was the loss of the first post-divorce relationship, and worst of all, my daughter deciding she didn't want to see me anymore.  Not a particularly great time for sure.

During the snowed in week, there was a particular Christian song that was popular on the radio, and seemed to be played ever hour or two.  It became the soundtrack for that whole terrible mess of emotion and depression I was undergoing during that snowed in week.  It became so associated with that time that I have never been able to listen to it again, because it reminded me of the pain I had been experiencing and the near-nervous breakdown I had then.

In talking to a friend the other day, I had a flash of divine revelation, an epiphany like almost no other.  The song, which for three years had been a testimony of the pain and hurt I had been suffering, changed.  God (and it had to be Him) showed me that it wasn't supposed to be a memory to the pain, it was supposed to be a testimony to the presence of His Love and His Spirit in that time.  I had misread it all this time.  It was really a Bethel monument (in Genesis 28:18, Jacob had a dream (which includes the angels ascending and descending,  which is is where a Jacob's ladder gets its name) and established a monument, a pillar to the presence of God in his dreams and in his life).

The song was intended to represent that for me.  I remember so clearly that day when the the sun finally came out and blinded the snow-bound people.  I remember  praying to God for help in the pain and the valley.  And clearly, just as clearly, I remember His presence.  I remember Him filling my mind and heart with the knowledge that He would be there for me and with me.  I remember Him telling me that I was still going to go through times of pain.  My faith journey has never been one full of emotional closeness to God, and yet that cold, sunny, snow covered afternoon kneeling in the sun beside my window, I felt His presence as almost never before.  The times of suffering that I went through were indeed painful, and at times felt like they would never end. Yet, I was still able to hold on to His promise, and eventually moved through that valley of the shadow.

I had, for three years, failed to remember the faithfulness of the Lord in carrying me, and had in all-too-human form remembered only the pain and suffering the loss of relationships had caused me.  I had forgotten that it was that pain that drove me out of my cubicle isolation at work to actually eat lunch with co-workers.  I had forgotten that it was the pain that drove me out of the apartment and into volunteer efforts, efforts that produced some days of great joy volunteering with the Washington Freedom, or at wine festivals.  That it was that pain that finally convinced me to leave the self-imposed isolation of life and to engage with the people around me.  It was His love, His presence, His blessing that got me through it.  And I had forgotten it.

And now I remember what I knew and had forgotten, yet another example of grace given by God.   

Hearing Problem

It is one of those things that you can be unaware of until someone or something points it out to you.  For me, it appears I have a selective hearing problem.  It is, I suspect as I look back in my past, a problem that I have had for decades. While I've been aware of it for the past three or four years, it is only recently that I've been able to identify it.  The problem is not my physical hearing, but my spiritual hearing that is impaired.  The spiritual ear that is turned to God and His word is the one that isn't working quite right, isn't able to truly hear without distortion.  I was able to finally label, identify, and realize it thanks to a recent blog by Tullian Tchividjian that I read.  The hearing problem is some inherent distortion that whenever I hear the Word, even when the Word is grace or couched in love and grace, all I hear is law.  What should be words interpreted in love and joy are instead distorted by rules and requirements that must be continuously and perfectly met.   I'm not sure why law is such a strong, overriding filter in me.

This legal filter gets to be a problem with so many aspects of faith.  It distorts my hearing of topics (such as reading the bible, praying, providing service, giving, etc.)  to such a degree that when they are mentioned, I end up hearing them as rigid requirements.  Thou shalt and thou must.  With any requirement, there is then a standard against which I will be judged.....and like King Belshazzar ("..shekel, you have been weighed on the scales and found wanting.." Dan 5:27) , I will be found wanting.  Worse than just being found wanting is the accompanying shame and condemnation, old family tapes that still play in my head of  "I'm so disappointed in you".

This past year I have tried to change my hearing.  From a girlfriend who kept telling me "God is love", to readings I was doing in 1 John and 1 Corinthians, even from the popular song by King and Country, I am trying to re-tune my hearing.  "For the greatest of these is love", "God is love", "God so loved the world"

I'm not sure I know how, but I know it can be done.  For years I was careful with money.  Frugal would be a generous term, miserly would be possibly accurate.  Somehow that has changed, and I suspect it has happened because of the example of a couple of people in my life.  It has now become easier and more natural to give.  Whether it is in the tithe at church, or the office candy jar,or picking up the tab from my men's breakfast group, it has become so much easier to give.

So I know change is possible.  The change I need now is to embrace the Great Commandment to love God with all my heart and mind and soul (Matt22:37-38)

I just wish I could hear the  sweet notes of "grace" better.

Why Broken Cistern?

I have engaged in faith struggles for a number of years now.  The struggles began in earnest after my divorce, although looking back now I am aware that the seeds of turmoil and grappling were in place long before that.  The struggles cover the whole gamut of faith, from who is God and what is His nature,  to how does He relate to me, how then should I live (borrowing the phrase from Francis Schaeffer), etc.  I suspect these issues have been percolating in me for decades, from perhaps even my first introduction to the church.  Faith in God remains; from my earliest days I've known of His existence even as I have struggled with how to connect with Him.  Perhaps all this struggle is just what my faith journey is supposed to look like, the trail it is supposed to take climbing up hill over boulders and not walking smoothly along a paved path.  Maybe everyone else has this struggle and just accept it in a way that I don't.  I don't know. But I do know that the effort has ramped up in the past three or four years.

There is, for me, something clarifying and cathartic about putting my thoughts and observations, questions and challenges, down in writing. It helps to distill and crystallize my thoughts, which otherwise would either swirl in chaos , or else evaporate and dissipate into the mist and fog of life.  So if I am going to write, why not let it be on the web where whosoever reads can benefit from it? (credit to a broken romance for showing me possibilities of blogging :)

The title I adapted from Jeremiah 2.  The setting for Jeremiah is the Lord saying His people have turned away from Him and created idols, broken cisterns that can not hold water.  While I don't think that idolatry is my issue (although, if an idol is anything that keeps us from giving all to God, perhaps there IS an element of that in me), the image of a broken cistern unable to hold the Living water of God has caught my eye and my imagination.  I'm a broken cistern, unable to hold the Spirit of God, waiting/trying to be be repaired and restored.  Broken--- troubled spirit, troubled follower -- looking for the Great Potter to restore me to wholeness.

Onward then.