Spilling Over the Hills

Spilling Over the Hills

(“They will not hunger or thirst, the scorching heat or sun will not strike them; for their compassionate One will guide them, and lead them to springs of water.” Isaiah 49:10)

Waving from the back of the parade
the children filled in the line at the end of the queue
following the music like spinning tops on a slow and
green Spring day.

Light never deceives; darkness beckons hopeless
moments canceling the stream of thoughts that walked
through the forest in the middle of the day.
Wait until the light shines again, look for the invitation
to traverse the amber swaying of afternoon sky.

We were told over and often that provision would
follow no matter the turns we took. But we were frightened
enough to staple our feet to the floor and waste our energy
trying to catch the rain in our hands.

But once we tasted the effervescent spring waters
on our tongue how could we sit still again, how could we
plaster ourselves to the inertia that kept us motionless? We
were hungry as children begging for another orange slice
as they were heading to bed. It seems we waited forever
to savor the moments that made us feel alive.

So, this time we joined the parade from the beginning,
singing songs of resistance, walking steps of resurrection,
and inviting every lonely observer to join us on the lookout
for new ways to celebrate the carnival days of joy when
we followed the promises like faith spilling over the hills.

Unreserved

 Unreserved

(“So I will not stay quiet. I will speak out in the suffering of my spirit. I will complain because I am so unhappy.” Job 7:11)

It’s all in your head.
They said.
Just turn off your brain.
Refrain.
And they disconnect the only living link
to a breath of fresh air that might keep me sane.

I am not playing.
Restrained.
My mind and body ache.
Piece of cake.
And I’ll shout into the sky if I have to;
dive off the pier and jump in the lake
to get a hearing from another living creature.

I’m not deserted.
Rehearsed.
Just misunderstood.
Unheard.
And they replace a caring touch with a cacophony
of sermons, prefab hymns, sanitized theology
that keeps doubts at bay and closes the way
to the soul’s deepest hunger.

Unreserved.

The Art of Confident Humility

The Art of Confident Humility

“Too much pride brings disgrace; humility leads to honor.” Proverbs 29:23

Our daughter Sarah teaches first grade. I love hearing the stories she tells about her young students. The other day a little boy hurt his head on the playground and was taken to the office. They gave him an ice pack to put on the injury. When he went to take it back the secretary asked, “Is it better?” He replied, “The side where I put the ice feels better. But there is a bump on the other side too.” Puzzled, she asked him, “How did you get that one.” “I don’t know. Maybe when I came through the birth canal.”

Even though Sarah teaches first grade, a kindergartner noticed her recently. Sarah had worn her hair in braids the day before and took them out for the next day, leaving her hair fluffy and a little wild. To keep it all under control she wore a headband and pushed it up over the unruly hair. The little student was heard to say, “I like Ms. Phillips’ hair today. Now she looks like a little kid like me.”

From a five-year-old, that is a compliment. If I was to tell her she “looks like a kid” she might refuse to call her father for a day or two. But, here’s the thought: Sarah’s self-confidence shines through a loving humility that others can see. Without saying too much, she has worked hard to have a positive outlook combined with a humble spirit.

I like eating out and trying new cuisines. Who is it that tells you about the special of the day? Usually the server, right? The chef doesn’t come out and brag about her creations before you have taken a bite. The server tells you about the menu and you might ask him to recommend something. “The asparagus jubilee is out of this world tonight,” he might say. (No one would say that, but I think I got your attention.)

You go ahead and order the special. You have good conversation during the meal punctuated with sips of wine and comments about the other diners. You take your time tasting each bite of this new experience and are surprised at how delicious it was. You call the server over and utter the classic words, “My compliments to the chef.”

If we reverse that scenario, and the chef comes out first, bragging about every item on the menu, there won’t be many plates coming to the window for service. She is too busy puffing her accomplishments to actually provide you with the scrumptious meal. No “compliments” to her at the end of the meal, and if she made a habit of this behavior, she might not have a job in a few days.

There is a problem I see in much of the conservative church world; we have an answer for everything. We schedule “Daniel Fasts” as if that is a Biblical mandate rather than a historical record of a particular situation. We talk about “binding the strong man” without really understanding what Jesus meant. We “take authority” over this spirit and that spirit while the poor are hungry just blocks away from our church doors.

What if we took Jesus’ words about “blessed are the meek, the poor, the peacemakers, the hungry for justice” seriously? What if we spent less time trying to make things happen in the “spirit world” and simply lived out the Spirit of Christ who indwells us? What if we humbly and daily submitted our needy and hungering hearts to the God who loves us dearly?

Here is our example: “Christ was humble. He obeyed God and even died on a cross. Then God gave Christ the highest place and honored his name above all others.” (Philippians 2:8-9) Jesus, who was truly God, didn’t make a big deal about his divinity. He gave up that standing and became like us. Why? Out of love. God, who has every reason to boast, chose humble love as the way to bring us to Him.

Your very life is not your own, it is a gift. Did you decide to have brown eyes? Was it your choice to have a brain for math? Did you create the muscles that help you dig your garden, throw a football well or wiggle your toes in the sand? Why, then, should we boast about anything?

Everything is grace, from your first breath to the life God has offered you in Christ. Everything has been given to you by the One who loves you the best. True humility recognizes this, rejoices in this and revels in wonder.

In the fourth chapter of John Jesus strikes up a conversation with a Samaritan woman at a well. He does not begin by saying, “I’m the Messiah, now worship me.” Instead, he humbly asks her for a drink. Their dialogue continues as she wonders that this Jewish man would as her, a woman five times married, for a drink of water. As she becomes more convinced of the goodness and kindness that stand before her, she calls him a prophet and asks about where people should worship.

It is only near the end of the conversation that Jesus reveals he is the Messiah. She says, “I know that the Messiah will come. He is the one we call Christ. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.”

Jesus replies, “I am that one and I am speaking to you now.”

Jesus, confident in his identity as the Messiah, did not have to boast or lead with that. Instead he created a relationship with her. He engaged in one of the deepest spiritual conversations in the gospels with an outcast woman. He neither condemned her nor puffed himself up. He led her close by showing interest in her life and her thoughts. And, as when the sun peeks through a day dark with clouds, Jesus admitted “I am that one; I am the Messiah.”

For a Christian, our maturity is measured by our likeness to Christ. It matters not if it is emotional or spiritual maturity; Jesus’ character is what determines our identity and our progress.

Our maturity is stunted if we do not stop the flow of ego. But we grow as we open our hearts to hear. Boasting and ego will cause us to be cut off from friends with whom we disagree. It can cut us off from business ideas because we think our way is the only way to do things. It will cut us off from learning because we already know how things are supposed to happen.

Most of all, it can cut us off from the Holy Spirit, because our experience is more important than what She actually wants to do within us. Boastfulness is loud. The work of God’s Spirit is quiet and must be heard with an open and receptive heart.

Learn the art of confident humility. Simply go about the business of doing good in the world, representing the grace you have received from Christ. Leave the bragging and boastfulness to others.

Wide for Two

Wide for Two

(“God’s way is perfect. All the Lord’s promises prove true. He is a shield for all who look to him for protection.” Psalm 18:30)

Think there beside me, there are no strangers,
we are not alone. You are too sweet to die by
lying words. Hear truth, the two-edged sword of
bright hues and life.

This is your destiny that calls you, speaks your name so softly you
hear each syllable peal like the
morning chimes through fog.

You are created; love and power, and a thirst unquenched.
A satiated heart, filled with its own words and senses, never
discover the colossal passion of the
hunger that only cries,

“More, my Lord. And never let
my eyes
become accustomed to the hues You create
for my daily plate, the divine nourishment
of love.”

Though the world conspires to clothe you only
with cast-offs, you have the same brown overcoat
daddy and grand-dad wore. Swaddled in the
well-worn lining ancestral discoveries mingle
with future longings and hope takes fire

Lit by prophetic miles, wide for two, and long
enough for all.

Beyond Daylight

Beyond Daylight

(“Father of orphans and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation.” Psalm 68:5)

Above the daylight of designer labels,
beyond the sound of battleground buyouts
the remaining world exists, third and fourth and more,
far beyond the normal ear’s hearing and the sight
of the never-blind.

All along the boulevard
names and cuisine are created from French phrases;
at each will-lit corner
near-cold is wrapped with a thousand embraces from
a closet of cloaks for each occasion, and an extra for
the wet days when there is no time to dry clean.
Midtown or forgotten peasantry on parched eyes,
 the dark and dense bread rests on
the stone at the corner of the room. Another procession
of days threatens to shrink the brittle bit of existence
gleaned beneath normal snacks and meals.

Birdwatchers stroll the park, dressed-up pets bark
at bikers and joggers squeezing in time.
Another ear hears the flap of quail far from
the avenues and well-trimmed perimeters, and
trusts the sling to bring home enough to roast
for another week. It took all day from light to
half-moon shadow.

Earth is dust, the ocean’s rough and deep,
beyond the reach of sticks and stones.
Bare skin gives way to sun, tender young to crust,
sunken eyes, plump to shapeless bones.

Beyond the daylight a forgotten orphan,
above the sound a shadowless widow,
the Kingdom of Heaven rules, then and now and more,
far above the dusty silk and linen; Father
of all, King of the poor, erases the names
of labels and cuisine.

The Father of all, everyman’s King is seen
spending the day in the heat, the night at the feet
of children whose father left to hunt bread or game
and, so they told Him, has not yet returned.

So There You Go

So There You Go

So there you go, changing your name again,
just when I thought I could listen without thinking
I must look for the measuring cup again. I’ve nearly
grown insane
wondering how to please the sirocco or reclaim
my fame again.

So there I see, flying ghosts over the top of me,
clouds transferring shapes and geometry, while
I scratch out my records, my diary, my poetry,
upon the black mud beneath my feet. The specters
seem more real to me.

So there I wait, smiling like the hungry,
just when I hoped the ship had slowed to turn back
my fortunes upon waves and swells of friendship;
the trade winds bringing the young man’s laugh
back to me.

So there I hear, once more, and again, like before,
at just the moment I imagined a new refrain from
the same singer on or off the stage. Though the
performance is weaker, the words are old and unchanged,
and we excuse the breathy enunciation simply because
they bring those blues and memories
back to me.

So there you go, the name unchanged again,
just when I learned the latest articulation
my tongue crash-lands against my front teeth again. I’ve nearly
grown silent
wondering what rhyme is improper, what theme will regain
my fame again.

Hunger and Hard Times

“He put you through hard times. He made you go hungry. Then he fed you with manna, something neither you nor your parents knew anything about, so you would learn that men and women don't live by bread only; we live by every word that comes from God's mouth.” Deuteronomy 8:3 (The Message)

There it is, spoken to Moses. It was God who put us through hard times. It was even He who made us hungry. It is just so easy to blame the devil. Why not? God surely doesn’t want me to suffer, to hunger, to go without or to appear needy.

Thrill Us Alongside

Thrill Us Alongside

(“Then Moses prayed to the Lord, ‘What am I going to do with these people? They are about to stone me to death!’” Exodus 17:4)

Thrill us alongside our easy beliefs,
be the jester for our fear’s relief,
magic acts explode and smoke,
banquets of miracles or we will revoke
your prophet’s license here and now!

Presume the definition lives up to your own hunger
and every flower means zero if it cannot be eaten.
Measure goodness by your own myopia
and every lantern is a black hole on a sinking boat.

Tell us what will make us cry for the moment,
not what makes us brood over undone reconstruction.
We are ready to release in buckets full of emotion
our agony to spend the rest of the day
lightly playing like no neighbor hungers like me.

Fewer faces, decrease the spaces between the
Kingdom Come
and the words our tongues make our
world become.

Hunger, let it grumble in me for you;
pangs and fasting, let them answer on earth
as it always is in Heaven.

We might drop the rocks, bruise our toes,
before we ever again refuse another step
that refuses to see Father’s love that chose
our provision tomorrow before we ever slept

Today.

When the King Returns

"Then the King will say to the people on his right, 'Come, my Father has given you his blessing. Receive the kingdom God has prepared for you since the world was made…I tell you the truth, anything you did for even the least of my people here, you also did for me.” Matthew 25:34, 40 (The Message)

It has happened once again; a date for Christ’s return (or the rapture, final judgment, the Second coming…whatever name you like) has come and gone. We were all supposed to face Jesus by May 22. Harold Camping, the proponent of the latest prediction, has a long history of foretelling Jesus’ return. Puzzled by his most recent failure, he retreated to an isolated motel room and then came out with a new date; sometime this coming October.

Love Because...

“We love because He first loved us.” 1 John 4:19

I have never had to experience physical hunger. Oh, I’ve gone without eating, skipped a meal, and heard my stomach reenact a summer thunderstorm. But I have never experienced true hunger.