Then Thawed

Then Thawed

(“Jesus touched the man. He said, ‘I want to heal you. Be healed!’ Immediately the man was healed from his leprosy.” Matthew 8:3)

When I sought you out I never imagined we would talk,
though I did ask a favor.
The thread that runs through everything was so invisible
I had forgotten the fabric.

Do you know what I want? How can I imagine yours? And, still
the spindle turns to plait the threads I cannot see.

Do you feel my distance? Do you reach beyond the pedestrians
who never ask my name? Whole, I would ask for nothing. Perfect,
I would not lack a thing.

But these scars and holes prevent the laughter of shared stories
and assent. I am absent from their memories. I am alone on the dust.

I found a lounger, an old television, a quiet dog and a selfish cat and,
after 10 years, found I had sat so long no one noticed I was home.
And now I’ve forgotten conversations that once bloomed like
a cottage garden.

Words are given, not shared. “Sorry” and “hope”; I spell them
in my sleep. A touch that speaks the misspelled notions that we
both remember the silken strand between sick and dying; the
quick compliance to mortality’s relentless decay.

Yet the filament runs from dark, through the mud, through the blood,
to the cold slab of borrowed cave. And overnight, just before sunlight
the thread is pulled from morning’s insistence. Life will not let the
joke die.

My fingers borrowed the gloves, the bony knuckles piercing the knit;
and that is when (I expected Your word) you touched the very center,
the very heart of it. Your hands, ungloved, were flesh warmed by blood,
and my nerves tingled again. My skin sang again. Human again,
touched the most human One, I froze;

Then thawed; then melted. Then settled on the next laugh I would share;
my next handmade memories and laughter.

God With Us

God With Us

“A virgin will conceive and bear a Son, and His name will be Immanuel (which is a Hebrew name that means ‘God with us’).” Matthew 1:23

One of the themes of Scripture, if not the centerpiece, is that God desires to be “with us”. God created Adam from His very breath and walked with Adam and Eve in Eden during the cool of the day. He instructed Moses to build a Tabernacle, a sort of mobile temple, to let the people know He was constantly with them, even when they were on the move. He tells them, “I will make my home among you and never turn away from you.” (Leviticus 26:11) Even when Israel forsook God through the time of the Kings, God kept wooing them back.

So, it is no great surprise that God finds the most intimate way to be with us; He comes to dwell as flesh and blood, taking all the realities of humanity upon Himself. This is why Christmas is so important. It reminds us that, not only did God dwell among us in Christ, but He actually entered the world in complete vulnerability. He began as a helpless newborn, the way each of us began.

Patti and I have three children. Each one is precious to us and we hope we did our best as parents to send them off into the world. None of them came with a scholarship, feeding instructions or a mind-reading app attached at their birth. Like all babies, each one was fully dependent on us for their care. Like most parents, that was a very frightening proposition, especially when we had not taken a language course in “baby”. Though incredibly resilient, infants are also fragile.

When Michael was about eight months old he was crawling across the living room floor. For some unknown reason I had a lamp plugged into an extension cord with the cord in easy reach of his tiny fingers. The connection was loose where the two cords met, exposing a bit of the metal plug. As most babies do, Michael reached for the plug and, before I could react, put it directly in his mouth. He froze, his mouth open, and I ran over, scooped him up, and then finally he began to cry. Fortunately, he had only a burn on the inside of his lips. But, he was vulnerable.

When Jonathan was about 24 months I unwittingly closed his fingers in the hinge side of a door. The moment I heard his cry I knew what I had done! His little finger bleed profusely. The very end of his pinky finger was broken, as small as the tip of an ink pen. After seven hours in the emergency room we exited with a toddler wearing a full-arm cast for a chipped pinky. He and his cast were the darling of the church nursery for the next few weeks. But, he was vulnerable.

When Sarah was born, ten years after Jon, she was adored by the whole lot of us. The boys and I went baby-girl clothes shopping immediately after her birth. From time to time during her infancy and into toddler-hood she would wake in the middle of the night bawling. It was as if she had woken from a frightening dream. Patti or I would simply hold her close, sometimes for as much as 45 minutes, until the moment passed. Though we never knew exactly what caused those late-night disruptions, we did know that she was vulnerable.

This may sound like a strange thing about God, but I wonder if becoming a baby was scary to Him. God is omniscient, meaning He knows everything. But there is a difference between “knowing” and “experiencing”. That is part of the reason Jesus came, so we could be assured that God understands our predicament, our trials and even our joys. Imagine being the Creator of All and contemplating life as a vulnerable newborn. The God who is Sovereign, who called the Universe into being, is now at the complete mercy of a young couple raising their firstborn child. He who commanded the Hosts of Heaven invaded humanity in helpless flesh.

Will you take some time this season, look at Jesus, and wonder at the miracle of “God with us”? Will you follow that same Jesus who, loving us to the very end, endured the suffering of crucifixion because God wanted to be “with us”? Will you rejoice that “God with us” was resurrected from the dead, not to make us some supernatural beings, but to endorse our very humanity. Oh, the mysteries of the grace of God. The All-Powerful God’s great desire is to be “with us”, and to do so, He laid aside His power, taking on our own vulnerability. That is the Christ we celebrate at Christmas. 

A Silent Decade

A Silent Decade

(“Then God told him, ‘I will certainly be with you, and this is the proof that I am the one who is sending you: When you have led the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God here upon this mountain!’” Exodus 3:12)

It has been a silent decade, a desert of hearing,
a midnight of seeing and the oceans are grey, the river
is iron,
and the oars do not cut to take me downstream.

You are not to blame, though You speak much softly than I prefer.
If I leave here, if I find a new abode with the same household but
wrapped with connections I’ve missed, how do I know

You will go?

And how do I know

I won’t be missed?

I’m too broken to start anew, too old to venture a capital campaign;
The locusts are in my ears and the wasps are in my head,
the brain waves, though never measured, are surely morse code jazz.

I want to walk the marble halls with my sons; the coffee and scones,
carroty beers and earthen pages of books we found just hours ago.

I want to unload my decades-old burden and walk the Pacific Trail.
ha! I do not move further than from lounger to icebox when blackmailed
by my pain.

I do not move alone. I am tied forever in love. And she has always tagged
along.
But it’s always been my song. And now, when I need a new place, somewhere
to be born again,
I cannot ask her to carry my tune again.

Promise me the rains will fill my longing. Pledge Your presence though my senses
tingle alone. Go or stay, I need a way to be unwrapped completely and unafraid of

The self I’ve always been.

The self I’ve always been.

Listening and Living Well

Listening and Living Well

“Live in me, and I will live in you. A branch cannot produce any fruit by itself. It has to stay attached to the vine. In the same way, you cannot produce fruit unless you live in me.” John 15:4

The news has been overwhelming in the past several weeks. One after another, women have come forward with their stories of sexual assault and harassment in the workplace. Actions that once took place in the shadows are coming to light. As each new victim shares her account it has empowered even more to open up about their experiences as well.

Some of the accused have denied any wrongdoing. At least one released a thoughtful, though perhaps incomplete, apology. Others have used phrases like “if I have offended…”. Many brave women have spoken up, and their stories deserve to be heard.

As followers of Jesus, we are interested in truth. Jesus told us that He is the way, the truth and the life. We are also interested in valuing every person’s life; their humanity, their dignity and their worth. We must never dismiss the story of a victim or make excuses for the perpetrator.

As I’ve read and listened to the stories of many of these women I’ve wondered how well we do as the church in treating women as Jesus did. I also wonder if our structures enhance the role of women or hold them back, if our policies celebrate them or limit them.

Four women have accused a senatorial candidate of sexual abuse at a time when he was in his 30s and they were teenagers. All of the incidents took place about 30 years ago and the girls ranged from 14 to 16 years old. Without getting into the politics, there was one poll that shocked me. A JMC analytics poll found that 37 percent of evangelicals surveyed in that state said the allegations make them more likely to vote for the GOP Senate candidate in the upcoming election.

Jesus honored and elevated women. The church should follow His lead. There is a story about Jesus having dinner with a religious leader. This man would have been among the conservatives of his time, and probably wanted to test Jesus. In those days, when there was an important guest at dinner, people would sometimes stand outside, watching the discussion and meal.

In this case, a prostitute was among those watching. Called a “sinner”, this woman enters the house and walks directly to Jesus. Kneeling at his feet, she empties a bottle of perfume on them, crying and washing his feet with her tears. She then dries his feet with her hair, kissing them over and over again, pouring more perfume on them.

Simon, the religious leader, is deeply offended. “If this man was really a prophet, he would know what type of woman is touching him. She’s a sinner!”

There is another story that is very similar. This time the disciples are offended because the perfume is so expensive, saying the it could have been sold and the money given to the poor. Jesus tells them, “She has anointed my body for burial.”

Mary, the sister of Martha, sits at Jesus’ feet when he comes to visit them in their home. Martha is doing what is expected of women at the time; preparing the meal. Mary breaks out of the presumptive role and takes her place sitting before Jesus…as a disciple. This was unheard of in Jesus’ time. But when Martha complains that Mary is not helping in the kitchen, Jesus says Mary has chosen the “better” part.

Jesus met with an outcast woman, a Samaritan, alone at a well. Men and women were never to meet alone in that society. But, not only did he meet with her, he had one of the most theologically deep conversations recorded in the Gospels. He then sent her back into town to tell everyone about Him.

The very first to discover Jesus had risen from the dead were women, and they were the first to announce it to the male disciples. All of these things happened in a highly patriarchal society. Jesus broke the “norms” because all people deserve respect, dignity and the opportunity to pursue their God-given dreams.

So, let’s listen, and listen well. And, let’s listen like Jesus. Jesus said, “Live in me, and I will live in you.” Life is not produced by letting society squeeze us into its mold. Life is not produced by playing politics over truth. Life is produced as we all seek to keep our connection with Jesus Himself strong and unfettered. Then we will be a healing people. We will respect people, not take advantage of them. We will truly listen to peoples’ stories. And we will fully empower men and women toward their full potential.

Binding the Wounds

Binding the Wounds

“This is what the Lord Almighty said: ‘Administer true justice; show mercy and compassion to one another. Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the foreigner or the poor.’” Zechariah 7:9, 10a

Jackie Robinson, the player who broke baseball’s color barrier, endured a difficult rookie season with the Brooklyn Dodgers. Fans hurled racial slurs and mailed death threats, opposing pitchers threw beanballs, and even some of his own teammates started a petition against him.

One man who stood by him was shortstop Pee Wee Reese. At one game, fans sitting close to the field abused Robinson mercilessly, and it looked as if he might be near the breaking point. At that moment, Reese walked across the field to where Robinson was playing, and put his arm around his teammate’s shoulders. The crowd fell silent.

Jackie Robinson and Pee Wee Reese showed the courage to stand for what was right, even when the majority opposed them. Similarly, Zechariah encouraged the Israelites to pursue true justice, even when many were practicing hypocrisy and self-centeredness.

We have witnessed much suffering across the world in the past several months. Hurricanes have ripped across Texas, Florida and the Caribbean. Over 350 people have lost their lives in Mexico’s magnitude 7.1 earthquake. In South Asia typhoons and flooding have taken 1,200 lives and forced millions from their homes. And now, just in the past week at least 59 were killed and more than 500 injured by a mass shooter in Las Vegas.

It is easy to feel overloaded with the scope of suffering we encounter. But if there is one thing every follower of Jesus is called to do, it is to continue showing God’s mercy and compassion as much as we can. If anything, disaster and grief can awaken greater depths of empathy within us for those who suffer.

True justice not only reacts in sympathy toward victims, but also acts to prevent future harm. We must open our hearts to the cries of those who endure not only the catastrophe of natural disaster, but to those who endure the continuing trials of poverty and injustice. Just as Pee Wee Reese stood up for Jackie Robinson we need to risk standing for those who are forgotten, misunderstood, and unfairly judged.

When we consider that God in Christ entered the world as a human, becoming a servant to us and suffering violent death at our own hands, our minds can hardly fathom the depths of His love. We did the worst possible thing to the Father of Love; we killed God! And what did Jesus do while hanging upon that instrument of death and violence? He said, “Father forgive them, they do not know what they are doing.”

That should leave no doubt in our minds about God’s heart toward humanity. Like the Good Samaritan, we are not called to tell people “You wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you hadn’t traveled that road.” Instead, exercising “true justice”, we meet the need and go beyond the boundaries of race, religion, poverty or any other human constructs and simply bind the wounds of those who suffer.

My roots are in the South. Though our family moved to Southern California when I was in second grade, I was born in Texas and spent nearly every holiday with grandparents in Tulsa, Okla. After Patti and I were married we moved to Oklahoma to be near my dad. That “southern courtesy” still runs through my veins.

Grandmas call you “hon” and people say, “Well, bless your heart” in response to just about anything. (Sometimes meaning the exact opposite of “bless your heart”, though.)

God is calling for something more than courtesy. The prophet Zechariah reveals the heart of God as he calls the people to more than surface level kindness, but to action rooted in heartfelt affection… “let none of you devise evil against another in your heart.”

That’s the real key, isn’t it? What we say and do is always a product of our inner self. Take some time and reflect God’s actions of compassion as revealed in the Cross. Consider how He sacrificed for us in the middle of all our muck and dysfunction and let His faithful love energize your own.

Silence is Fuller

Silence is Fuller

(“Be silent, all mankind, before the Lord, for he has come to earth from heaven, from his holy home.” Zechariah 2:13)

Silence is fuller than cascades of verbs
that travel from outside our ears into tangled
shortcuts with words.

Silence is deeper than cenotes unfound
where history is buried beneath the muffled

rituals of sound.

Nouns are less concrete than the quiet that
sees
only the bluebird that conversation makes invisible.

I do not wait well in the stillness, nor walk when instruction is unclear.
The buzz in the background; the blues, a movie, a distant campfire circle,

all arc back to short-circuit the wheel of sentences that repeat
like a coffee grinder churning my mind in a closed-loop of fantasy.

Silence is denser than the Dickens
or other deep descriptions of time and rooms,
of seasons and revolutions. Silence is the black hole
that holds nothing and

in which everything exists.

Words have been my language since I heard my name
for the first time, since Mama or Dadda and No and Me.

To believe God speaks with nothing, and to find eternity

in that void,
is to learn, not another dialect or use for words I still need
to find.

It is a new Kingdom of being; of seeing without tongue or ear.
The more I beg Him to speak, the more precious His silence has become.

Simply Put

Simply Put

(“Blessed are those who endure when they are tested. When they pass the test, they will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.” James 1:12)

What is my love compared to the trails You have left with
my heart?
Are my faltering steps enough for the race when I know
I once flew faster? There were friends I once would ask,
but now they do not answer my letters.

Pain is the dungeon, depression the iron door, and where is the
something more,
the crown,
the life,
the speed,
the gown of white,
the reed unbroken and the smoking wick
relit?

Which foot should I put forward now? Which direction, and
how do I know when to lay my head upon the grass because
the world is far too fast for the ache that started in my heart and
now has lasted too long in my head?

Can I tell you the truth, Father-I-hope? I am tired of the test and want
to lay my pencil down. Grade me now and let me finish. I’ll take an
incomplete if I have to.

Suffering and glory, crowns and crosses; that was Your story, but

I need the alphabet to be flesh. I need the paragraphs to be persona;
the stories to be more than mystery; but my contemporary now.

Visit me in more than my dreams, beyond the page, within the schemes
of my undulating hobby of ache. I wander the fields of my youth,
the days of laughter and acoustic songs, flutes and singalongs,
and I was so much smarter than anyone knew.

Now I know how narrow is the science which pulled the blinds so tightly,
that Your light is the sliver of morning where the dust hangs.
And, simply put, I haven’t seen a sunrise since before North Dakota
on the Missouri.

Wisdom to Be

Wisdom to Be

“If any one of you falls short in wisdom, they should ask God for it, and it will be given them. God, after all, gives generously and ungrudgingly to all people.” James 1:5

Almost every Christian who wants guidance knows this verse well. We have been told that God will give us all the wisdom we need when we ask Him, and that He will never begrudge us the gift of His wisdom. That much is true. Our problem, I believe, is that we substitute the word “guidance” for “wisdom”.

Let me explain. Perhaps we need to choose whether to take this job or that one. Or we are considering buying a new house. We rely on this verse, ask God for wisdom (thinking “guidance”) and expect some sign to tell us which choice to make. I do not want to be misunderstood; God often gives specific guidance about choices we face.

But wisdom is a much broader category than simple “guidance”. What if wisdom has to do more with who we are than what we should do? Isn’t God more interested in forming us into men and women who carry the compassion of Christ in our hearts? And, as we ask for His wisdom, what if He responds by transforming us to a greater degree into the likeness of His Son?

Let me share from own recent struggle with wisdom. Most of you know I have suffered from a daily headache for nearly nine years. It hinders everything that I do; writing, reading, physical activity, even taking road trips.

Here is what makes it so challenging. Every "trial" I've endured thus far in my life could be traced either to failings on my part or someone else's, if not entirely, then in part. I could act on it. I could repent. I could confess. I could forgive. I could make amends. I could reconcile.

But there is no cause for this chronic pain that I can tackle with better piety. In fact, the pain hinders most of my spiritual "practices". Prayer is an effort. The pain shortens my attention span when reading Scripture. And acts of mercy are fewer and farther between, as are most of my activities.

I cannot fix this with better devotion to God. And, yes, I understand His strength is made perfect in weakness and that His grace is sufficient. But the pain is an iron door which seems to limit access to experiencing these things.

That's the most honest assessment I can make. My faith is challenged because, for once, I see no cause, no solution and no way forward. I am, in many ways, walking in the dark while I try to walk in the light.

I have asked God for wisdom. I have sought medical advice, spiritual counsel, and poured out my heart to family…and well, Facebook. I cannot keep up the pace I need to as a full-time pastor, yet I am not financially able to retire. There is more to that, but just understand, there seem to be very few choices. And I’ve been asking quite often for “wisdom”. “Show me another way, God.”

Recently (actually, yesterday) I began to think this way. “There is much I can no longer do because of this chronic pain. And, I hate the physical suffering as well. I don’t play tennis, don’t visit friends, don’t read, don’t write my poetry as much. But…I am still me.” That seemed like a breakthrough.

You see, I’ve been focusing on what I feel I need to do, and all the things I can’t do. But the pain has not changed one thing about who I am. For me, God’s wisdom may be to stop seeking to do things better and just be His beloved child, because that has not changed. I am His by faith in Christ, despite the pain.

That does not ease my physical suffering. And, if you are suffering, you may still endure hardship as well. But, ask God for wisdom; not just for what to do, but who to be. The next verse tells us to “ask in faith.”

Faith isn’t a power to gain control over our lives. Instead, it is surrendering our false sense of control into the hands of our loving Heavenly Father. Trusting Him means we no longer convince ourselves that, with enough faith, we can move that mountain. We put that mountain into God’s hands and simply trust Him for the outcome.

Personally, This Letter

Personally, This Letter

“Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” Luke 21:33

So many letters lie tattered beneath the newer lessons I’ve learned.
Yet the dusty seams bring me back again to the handwritten pages I
said I would never leave behind.
One said Never was sworn for life, and Ever was the bond. Friends
and brothers, square knots and sisters; but the sworn statements
broke upon the letter of the law.

I never wrote on stationary, I rarely used a blank page. Spiral notebooks
used to sleep on the bottom bunk of the old brown bookshelf unsung. I can
see phrases, words playing like “chiseled orphans” and “cacophonies of
Christmas lights” outside a teenager’s window.

Songs remembered, tunes forgotten; I paste the chords with weaker fingers.
I’m not saying I want to go backwards; I only desire the long talks around
the firebush in autumn or summer’s sacred meadow.

Some words I’ve hacked in half, others extended by a vowel or two,
but all I remember (my heart still tarries) is the laughter and tears
that were acceptable in season or out. Our gardens were full; rich loam
and metaphor. Our hugs were held well after harvest and fini.

And Now.

And now, Your words are still my meat, though my palate has changed.
In early fall the smoke from campfires writes another chapter of the book
I’ve laid down. And I hope the same smoke will stir the embers of friends
who I used to know.

With and without; words were the life. The silence, the pale blue lines
crossing the page, the margin asking where to begin. The silence

Is the reason I sometimes cry when no one is watching.

Will You speak in words I know? I am not nearly as old as You,
Ancient of Days. I need Your newer tropes and parables to pack inside
the vulnerable windows.

P.S.

P.S. I would send it personally, this letter, old friend,
but I fear, once more, you might not return my letter again.

The Sheep of My Pasture

The Sheep of My Pasture

“And you, my sheep, the sheep of my pasture, are my people, and I am your God, declares the sovereign Lord.” Ezekiel 34:31

Have you ever thought about what it is like to be a sheep? No? I suppose it is not one of those daydreams many of us have. If we were to imagine being an animal we might choose the stately lion, the majestic eagle or maybe a playful puppy. Sheep just don’t come to mind that often.

Yet God describes us as His sheep numerous times throughout Scripture and Jesus calls us as His “little flock”. Sheep are not solitary animals; they flourish in flocks. And domesticated sheep need a shepherd; a good shepherd. That is God’s primary message in Ezekiel 34. His people had been ruled by “shepherds” who had no cared for the people’s needs at all.

Instead of caring for and feeding the sheep, these rulers had fed themselves. “You eat the fat, you clothe yourselves with the wool, you slaughter the choice animals, but you do not feed the sheep!” God tells them (Ezekiel 34:3) They did not strengthen the weak, heal the sick, bandage the injured, bring back strays or seek the lost. Instead they were harsh and forcefully exerted their power over the people. (Ezekiel 34:4)

As a result, the people were scattered and were, like sheep, put at risk and became “food for every wild beast.” Leaders, whether religious, business or political, are called to look at the needs of those around them and be good shepherds. Instead of finding ways to exert personal power, a good leader seeks out the hurt and brings healing. A good leader finds ways to heal the sick and weak. A good leader refuses to hold back they good they can do for those who have suffered injury.

Think about the goodness of Jesus Himself. Matthew 12:20 say about Jesus: “He will not break a bruised reed or extinguish a smoldering wick, until he brings justice to victory.” Bruised reeds matter to Jesus! We must understand that first and foremost. When God sees our broken places He immediately sets out to heal them. When He sees the fire nearly going out He immediately acts to ignite the flame again. He does not blame, He does not condemn: He heals.

As His followers, we are called to be the same. We are Jesus in the world. Spirit-filled believers are the “flock” of this Good Shepherd. But, we also become shepherds ourselves. When we see injustice in the world, we should also say, “Bruised reeds matter.” We who have received the healing, strength and care of the Almighty are called to take that same compassion into the world.

It is easy to rely on people to gain what we think we need in life, but it is the care of Father-God that truly satisfies. We will make mistakes along the way. We will step forward when we should have waited. We will wait when we should have acted. But, if we are living in complete dependence on God’s loving care, we turn from those mistakes and reach out to the hurting once more.

As a church, I hope we at River of Life are creating a safe space for the flock of God. For a good shepherd, every new lamb is treated with the same care as any other. And, those that are weaker often receive more intimate care because they are more in need. I hope we are creating an environment where people can share the joys and the hurts they feel. I hope we are a place that people do not have to act like all the other sheep to fit in. We will go through ups and downs throughout life, but the love of God will always move us to greater compassion for others and less self-promotion. We love each other well when we point to the hope we have in Christ while never ignoring the painful circumstances that may be present. Remember, to follow Jesus means to be part of a flock. Don’t stay away from the sheep pen.

Let us throw the doors of our hearts wide open. Jesus was constantly stopping to heal those who the world had passed by. Jesus gave His time to despised tax-collectors and prostitutes. They mattered to Him. You matter to Him. And, sheep who have been excluded for one reason or another especially matter to Him.

Father, may we truly follow You as our Shepherd. Let us learn to rely on Your for Your personal care and healing of our lives. Create in us the same heart You have for all people and help us give the same grace we have received.

My Silent Repertoire

My Silent Repertoire

(“And the Lord’s servant mustn’t be a fighter, but must be gentle to all people, able to teach, able to bear evil without resentment.” 2 Timothy 2:24)

It’s been quite murky for a while. Some call it grace,
some just see the space I put between myself and the pain. My
guts would tell you that the fire is tired of burning, the lamps are
turning to evening and the embers to dirty gray.

I need to be tucked in between a lake and metropolis,
a forest with a couch and a café with first friends who don’t mind
that my eyes glaze when the gravity tightens around my face.

I sat on city councils, I advised state projects, I met CEOs and
had alcoholics in my home. Now my visits are silent, my years
are ringing like the foghorns on the river. All my energy has been
sold to the clouds as they pass by.

“Stir it up” they might say, “the gift, the fire, the holyghost desire”.
And that’s what I dream every evening before I wake with the
knife slicing my head again. And I can barely write again.

Doubt is my agent, tears are nearly absent. I’ve spent them on the
clouds that pass by.

Hold my hand again. Bring me a drink again. Touch my brow again
with a towel of mercy. Follow the wrinkles with your fingers, the furrows
caused by cringing that meet the smile lines of ages ago.

It is too slow now to organize. Too murky to plagiarize. The mask is
pulled far too tight across the fog my forehead feels. And so

I only ask forgiveness, and offer the same. My repertoire is limited,

But unashamed. 

Radically Loved

Radically Loved

(“Therefore, as God’s chosen ones, holy and dearly loved, put on compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Be tolerant with each other.” Colossians 3:12, 13a)

Do you give much thought to what others think about you? Granted, some of us think about it far too much. My brain seems to be wired in a way that is always asking, “Yeah, but what did they think about that? How did they interpret my words or actions?” Thinking through the effect of our life is a sign of maturity. But, overthinking how we are perceived by others can result in stagnation, stunting our growth into the beauty of a fulfilling life.

That is why the Scriptures so often declare God’s view of people. Frequently, we get stuck in the “humans are sinful” parts of the Bible and fail to ask, “Yes, but how does God feel about us?” If we view God as vengefully angry at us, we become vengefully angry people. If we view Him as forgiving and loving toward us, we become more forgiving and loving ourselves.

There is little doubt that people who are compassionate, kind, and humble do much more for the world than those who are abrasive and judgmental. These are the qualities of life that Father God wants for His children. Sometimes we put the cart before the horse. We demand of others and ourselves a measure of love and compassion which we may not have fully experienced.

This is why, in this verse, and throughout Scripture, we are reminded first who we are. God has called us His chosen ones. He sees us as holy. And we are dearly loved by Him! It is my firm belief that the more we actually believe we are the beloved of God, the more we will act in loving and compassionate ways.

Your identity is not rooted in your failures, nor even in your sin. It is rooted in God’s relentless tenderness that has been revealed in Jesus Christ. Brennan Manning wrote, “Define yourself radically as one beloved by God. This is the true self. Every other identity is illusion.” You cannot be holy until you see yourself as holy, set apart by God Himself. You will have trouble loving others dearly until you understand how deeply God has loved you; how radically He has loved you.

Patti and I will celebrate our 40^th wedding anniversary in just a few days. I have learned so much about the accepting, tolerant, radical love of Jesus from my wife. As much as she acts in love and forgiveness towards me, it is just as important that I know within my own heart the I am her beloved. One part of that is her responsibility; being loving. The other is mine; believing I am loved.

Take to heart what God has done in His love for you. “He destroyed the record of the debt we owed, with its requirements that worked against us. He canceled it by nailing it to the cross.” (Colossians 2:14) Inhale it deeply. Drink it as the water that slakes your deepest thirst. Every debt you owed God because you did not measure up has been “destroyed” and “nailed to the cross!” Can you imagine the freedom when you fully comprehend the depths of the Father’s love for you?

Now you can go on, enabled by your status as “the beloved” to love without fear. You can put on compassion and kindness, instead of feeling the need to correct people. You can humbly listen without being threatened by others’ opinions. You are able to be gentle in the face of fear or antagonism. And, you can patiently go at someone else’s pace instead of your own, all because you know you are the Father’s beloved child.

When a church of Jesus-followers operates out of a deep understanding of God’s love through Christ, they will be seen as tolerant. This is not because they “sugar-coat” sin, it is because they know the only answer to the sin problem is the relentless love of God shown through Jesus Christ. Not only that, people will never call that church “boring”!

Do you struggle with what God thinks about you? Then take to heart these words today: You are His chosen one. You are holy to Him. And, you are His beloved. Now, go and show that same relentless tenderness to the world around you.

Added Dirt

Added Dirt

(“The whole body is joined together and connected by every joint and ligament, as every part effectively does its work and grows, building itself up in love.” Ephesians 4:16)

As time as added dirt beneath my feet the roots
weep more deeply for distant embrace.
Shadows of unaffected laughter, classrooms with morning light,
guitars in a circle and folk songs with unexpected trumpet runs;
all wait in afternoon sun for the reawakening of innocence.

Opinions run too high, anxiety has paid its price. The buds will bloom
without my constant pinching.

The satisfaction of morning roses and an eight-year-old neighbor
who wants a flower to give to give her mom, the boy on stage,
the man unafraid, the father mistaken and the elder still shaken
from the way the earth quakes; all speak in the sunlight
of connections frayed at the edges.

The dark clouds spin by and ego is overpriced. The sun will shine
without my backward flinching.

Come, arms and legs, eyes and ears, take me in and play again.
Come, classmate and peer, soulmate and handshake, hear me and sing again.
Our distances are paper-thin, our barriers self-erected. What have we rejected,

If not the best selves we once inhabited?

Grace Extended

Grace Extended

“For it is all for your sake, so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.” 2 Corinthians 4:15

It was the scariest day of the first twelve years on the planet. Greg, one of the three meanest playground bullies had “called me out” to fight after school. Barely 110 pounds, my slight frame rarely stayed upright in the face of the few fisticuffs I encountered in school. But, whether out of a momentary bravissimo or stupidity, I agreed to meet him.

Most times when I felt threatened I would recruit Don Irwin to walk home with me. Held back a year, Don was bigger and stronger than everyone in our class. Though he never actually fought anyone, we all knew the outcome of any attempted brawl with Don. But, for some reason, Don was unavailable on the day Greg insisted we meet around the block after school.

I bravely faced off across from him, hands somewhere hanging on the ends of my arms. Within the time it takes for a hummingbird to flap its wings twice a fist crashed into my left eye and across my nose. Immediately I started to cry. It was involuntary, but they were tears, nonetheless. (Do not try this at home, but a blow to your eye will bring the inevitable tears.) I couldn’t see, I was embarrassed and petrified. Not only had he caught me full force, I was blubbering in front of the school bully; a far worse shame than losing a fight.

Greg took a step back while my mind reeled. I wondered if I should take a wild swing while he watched me grimace. The he said, “Have you had enough?” I knew to say “Yes” meant to admit defeat. But, not wanting to lose two eyes, I said, “I guess.”

“Ok,” he responded, “It takes a big guy to admit he’s lost.” Then we had a couple of other words together, he walked off, I limped home, and we never fought again.

Grace, right? I was grateful for Greg’s grace. No! A thousand times “No!”

But I have met many Christians who see God’s grace much the same way. We do not go so far as to say God is a bully. But we do say things like “I deserve the punishment”. Or, even when things aren’t going quite right, “I must have messed up pretty bad for these things to be happening.” And so, we see God’s “grace” in terms of a God who occasionally lets us walk away from a black eye that He has inflicted.

The danger of this idea comes out in how we treat others. There seem to be two streams of “Christianity” in America: one which loves seeing God’s grace given to more and more people; and another which uses the word “grace” but seems to be slow in giving it. So, if we feel God was righteous to rough us up before he gave us grace, we also feel justified to speak and act in ways that are not fully grace-full.

You’ve seen it, I know you have. Christians who share ugly reports about politicians they disagree with; or who will not listen to the stories of those in untenable situations. Sometimes we make assumptions about the poor or the disadvantaged. We want to control what people do with their food stamps or disability.

But, here is what God did. Let’s suppose we actually deserved a black eye. The Greatest News of All is that Glen is not God. Glen would have given us our black eye, then backed off saying, “you learned your lesson.”

But Christ, in His Mighty Grace, suffered for us on the cruelty of the cross! He triumphed over the violence and the darkness of this world, not by fighting back, but by dying. He triumphed over the ungodly union of politics and religion in His own time by showing that God’s Kingdom is one of love and servitude.

Dear ones, perhaps you have never fully understood the great galaxy of God’s grace offered to you. Perhaps you feel you have deserved the hardships, and that, once you have suffered enough, God will be nice to you. In Christ, God is here now. He is the One who has spread the mercy and grace of God across the universe like a perfume that anoints our every sense.

Once you realize how great His grace truly is, you will never again speak harshly against the poor or spread falsehoods about opponents. Jesus, in His grace, offered His very life so that, according to this verse, “as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.”

Experience His grace today. And, experiencing it, let it extend from you to more and more people!