I Do not Qualify

I Do not Qualify

(“After this he went out and saw a tax collector named Levi, sitting at the tax booth. And he said to him, ‘Follow me.’” Luke 5:27)

How many times have You asked me;
over and over until I got up out of my crouch,
or just once, while You waited for the Yes
to run from my mouth to my feet? Direction
and discreet turns of phrase to keep me disguised
well enough.

I could follow, my name misspelled enough,
to enjoy the walk without explaining my choice.

Pretty soon I found the rags You left me, donned them,
looked bereft as I thought You meant me,
and talked just like the guys on the radio who
told me where to turn in my Bible while I was driving
deliveries for the downtown pharmacy in the VW bug
without a muffler. I don’t think I followed better then,
but the rest of Your team certainly thought I did.

Finally, a decade or so, I think my heart is finally in it,
but more lost than the day I left my seat. I don’t mean
to complain, but a high school education makes me feel
like no one at all when I am sure I could have studied, striding
down Berkeley’s Halls on at least a scholarship or half.
But I left the hope for higher learning thinking You meant
my sight set on Higher learning yet. I will follow You to
the end,
I will.
But we will have to have a conversation about that at
the end,
we will.

My heart is in it, following You, I mean. My feet and hands
and voice and wardrobe are sadder than they have ever been.
All I want to do is ask each one at the crossroad to
follow You,
but it is not enough, and teary I remember pictures I
nailed on the dream walls; preaching to half a thousand,
teaching to hundreds who memorized the notes in hand.

I do not qualify for the big sky palaces, they want Masters of
Divinity,
not Community College dropouts like me.

My heart is in it, following You, I mean. I’m must not sure
where that means for me to go, my voice is throaty, my thoughts
disjointed, my eyes red with tears, and my feet swollen. I love You
more,
and more Your people as well.

For me, please, grant the hundreds of friends and fields and
mother and brothers You said I would have in
this world
as well as
the world
to come.

Why I Keep Following (When it Hurts so Bad)

“God’s kingdom isn’t just a lot of words. It is power.” 1 Corinthians 4:20

The question hangs at the end of so many sentences. Those less connected to faith in Christ might be more likely to verbalize it, but it is not far from the thoughts of many who have been at least “church folk” for many years. I know the question well, because it is the one I have wrestled with the last few years: “If Jesus does not, or cannot, relieve this constant suffering of headache pain you endure, why do you keep following Him?”

Telling the Good News

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me. He has anointed me to tell the good news to poor people. He has sent me to announce freedom for prisoners. He has sent me so that the blind will see again. He wants me to free those who are beaten down.” Luke 4:18

Jesus returned to His hometown of Nazareth and attended synagogue as was His custom. He had been teaching at synagogues throughout the area. This time things were different. I do not know if He had quoted Scripture or spoken there before, but this Sabbath He made quite an impression. Quoting from Isaiah 61 about ultimate freedom God would bring to Israel, particularly through His Messiah, He put the scroll away and sat down.

Just Plant

Just Plant

(“The one who plants and the one who waters really do not matter. It is God who matters, because he makes the plant grow.” 1 Corinthians 3:7)

The announcements overheard, the ones that woke the
morning drowse and weave,
implied the job would never be done well enough,
and numbers weren’t as numerous as the count
of harvests years ago.

It rattled expectation, the promise that waited so far
out of reach. We could run faster then, true enough,
but we usually missed half our turns in our haste
to break the speed records of a generation ago.

The money rolls in just fine, sometimes between the lines,
but the worry doesn’t change much, dollars or thousands,
and the measure is never the bank account’s balance;
but the friends we take the chances with. They are better comfort,
finer enhancement than antique candelabras in the remodeled narthex.

It still remains, though, that the numbers are lower than
the days of lush vegetation in the backyard garden;
roses in rows from fence to garage; tomatoes dressed
green to red climbing the fence along the patio. These days,
having put off planting, grass grows taller than the single rose bush
I planted

The week after Dad died.

I’m embarrassed about my depression,
blushing that so much space is filled with so few faces,
and hope, now, when my lope is slower, to remember to

Just plant the rows for watering.

First Verse

First Verse

“It is because of God that you are in Christ Jesus. He became wisdom from God for us. This means that He made us righteous and holy, and He delivered us.” 1 Corinthians 1:30

When the fingernail clouds arise from the west
and the air is still with laughter on its breath
don’t give way, don’t give in, don’t question the moment,
don’t give way to the how or the when; just wait for the rain
as you have time and again.

About My Father's Business

“Jesus said to them, ‘Why were you looking for me? Didn't you know that I must be in my Father's house?’” Luke 2:49

Other translations have Jesus say, “Didn’t you know I must be about my Father’s business?” The meaning does not change much either way. But it started me thinking about the things I expect Jesus to do, and the places I expect Him to show up.

The Apple of My Eye

The Apple of My Eye

(“He shielded him and cared for him; he guarded him as the apple of His eye.” Deuteronomy 32:10b)

I don’t know how people do it. How do they take a flimsy bit of plastic, place it on the tip of their finger, and paste it onto their eye with barely a blink? Our eyes are among the most sensitive areas of the body. A speck of dust we might not notice on our tongue wreaks havoc when caught in our eyes. Run the tip of a needle across your arm and then think about doing the same thing to one of your eyes. Did you grimace?

As sensitive as the eye is to touch, and especially pain, it is interesting that God says to Israel (and, by extension, to those who follow Christ) that they are the apple of His eye. It is a familiar idiom, used for someone or something that is the object of our affection. It is a person who we greatly cherish. I might use it of my wife, or of any of my children, and we would immediately understand the relationships. “She is the apple of my eye, I don’t know what I would do without her.”

The Hebrew for this phrase can be literally translated, “The Little Man of the Eye”. It is probably the reference to the tiny reflection of oneself we can see in other people’ pupils. I immediately had an image of “me” imprinted on God’s very pupils. What an extraordinary thought! To think that God not only thinks about us, but has us always “in His eye”.

We understand this is a metaphor. God is not physical, therefore does not have an actual “eye” to see with. But here’s the thing about metaphors, they almost always are a picture of something greater than themselves. So, as beautiful as it seems for our image to be in God’s eyes, the reality is even greater. It is far beyond our imagination to even understand the depth of God’s affection for each one of us.

So, what about the apple of our eyes? Think about the affection and pride that wells up in your heart about your children. You want to show them off. You carry picture of them in your wallet (sorry…on your IPod), and show them off to anyone who will see. Or, if your “apple” is a prized possession, perhaps a treasure heirloom, you keep it safe, perhaps locked in a cabinet. You shine or clean it, and bring it out to show people when they visit.

So, when God calls those who trust Him the apple of His eye, He wants us to never doubt the depth of His affection. The verse tells us He shields and cares for those who are the apple of His eye. Though we may wander and not give God much of a nod, He is always reaching out to us, using everything at His disposal to help us see His desire to protect and care for us.

God is the perfect parent. Think about what you would do protect your child, the apple of your eye. If possible, you would remove every harmful thing from their path, and if someone threatened them, you would rise up immediately. You would never second guess any action you took to protect them, putting your life before theirs if necessary.

That is how much God adores the human race. As dysfunctional as we can be, as often as we mistreat each other in personal, corporate and even national levels, He still is filled with compassionate for each of us. Even if I am a merely mediocre dad, I still ache for my child when they are going astray or in harm’s way. God provided all that was needed for us to return to Him and not have to face His anger.

Though every action has a consequence on this earth, God chose to take the eternal consequences of every wrong decision, every sin, upon Himself. Jesus was God’s “ransom”, paying the debt we piled up by following our own way. He did that, not so He would have a bunch of people get together for an hour every Sunday and sing songs about Him (some of which people don’t even understand).

God sacrifice His own “Apple”, His own Son, so we could have a constant, unbroken relationship with Him. Here is where I fall so short. Why, when God has treated me so good, when He has given everything so nothing would separate me from His affection; why do I still insist on going my own way? If I am the apple of His eye, how much more should I respond with overflowing joy and love toward Him.

Why not pray as David did: “Protect me like the apple of your eye. Hide me in the shadow of your wings.” (Psalm 17:8). How quick are you to protect your pupils from even the smallest speck? That is the attention God shows those who call to Him. Enjoy His love, there is nothing better than being the “apple of God’s eye!”