In Between Cracks

In Between Cracks

“And the King will answer them, ‘I assure you: Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of Mine, you did for Me.’” Matthew 25:40

Did you think a love letter would suffice,
a perfumed missive, something chocolate and nice?
Were their eyes the blacked-out windows that grabbed your hand,
or the stench of a single room filled with infants, toddlers,
teens and dogs; a single mom hoping for something more.

When did you start giving in to mythology that made her
as welfare queen? What throne do you think she reigns upon?
What kingdom does she rule? They have left the dirt just inside
the threshold. They have no driveway, no sidewalk; just the
murky ruts from occasionals who stop and stare.

Did you find time for your own mudding? Driving four wheels
over logs and stones; burning gas, smoking the hills with your
tires and chums?

And yet Jesus lives in the shack, Jesus dwells in between cracks
that turn our noses. Jesus goes without a bath, eats soda crackers
instead of cereal, and sleeps between the drips from the mildew
and moss
that captured the past-tense shelter.

You would put restrictions on your help; urine tests and job applications
(and never ask how the homeless buy gas for cars that do not run.)

Stop.

That’s right. Now, listen to the four-year old breathe; just his tiny breath.
His lungs are wet and human. He exhales the sighs of too much life in too
little time. He is Jesus, if you will only

Stop

And listen

To his breath.

The Things that Make Peace

The Things that Make Peace

“But we must do the things that make peace and that help each other to do better.” Romans 14:19

If there is one thing I have learned from my extensive experience as a parent, pastor and manager in business, it is that criticism rarely motivates anyone to do better. What we often refer to as “constructive criticism” is usually our own complaint about someone and not something that helps them aim higher, and feel more enthusiastic or positive about life.

Think about the last bit of “constructive criticism” you received. Even if it was from someone you love and respect, what were your inner emotions? Did you feel nervous? Embarrassed? A desire to defend yourself, or deny that the criticism was valid? Don’t misunderstand; there are times for “constructive criticism”. But we often dive right in without considering how well our helpful hints might be received.

That is one reason that “peace” is mentioned so often in Scripture, for none of us live in isolation. We have families, neighbors, friends and co-workers. And, if we are following Christ, we have chosen to be closely tied with a group of fellow followers. Likened to a “body”, the church is made of up people who are connected to each other because they are committed to Jesus.

Our physical body is a complex organism of specialized cells. Some make up our muscles, some our blood, others include skin, hair and internal organs. But the communication network is our nervous system. Instructions flow by chemical and electrical impulse to and from the brain along thousands of nerves. They monitor our hunger, pain and sense of physical comfort. They send signals from our eyes to interpret the visible world. Our experience of life would be both limited and dangerous without the constant flow of information between body and brain.

Sometimes the chemicals that facilitate the transfer of information can be out of balance. This can be the cause for various mental challenges such as depression, anxiety, OCD, and others. Since I am neither a medical doctor or a biologist, please disregard any particulars I may have misstated.

But, here is the takeaway. Our physical body is one unit made of many connections. To function at its best, those connections need to be open and receptive. The same is true in personal relationships. We must “do the things that make peace” because they keep relationships open. They allow us to remain close, authentic and supportive.

Remember, when speaking of “peace”, the Biblical writers did not mean “no waves”. We often mistake avoiding conflict as “peaceful”. Think about it this way. Someone has said or done something that caused you a great deal of pain. But, you believe in being peaceful, so you keep it in, never bring it up, but also avoid the person as much as possible. Now, look inside; do you feel peaceful? Of course not! And, there is zero peace between you and the person either.

The idea of “peace” is Scripture has more to do with “wholeness” than it does with keeping the apple cart from tipping. We can even think of it as “balance”. So, the opposite of peace includes actions that minimize another person, that take away their “wholeness”. This is why Paul says to “do” the things that make for peace. If peace was just about “no conflict”, we wouldn’t have to do anything. We could stay home, sip our tea and grouse about that old hurt from ten years ago; all without disturbing the one who caused the hurt. But also, never becoming whole ourselves.

That’s why Paul adds, “help each other do better.” He didn’t say, “Lecture” about doing better, or “cajole”, “plead”, “manipulate”, or (fill in your favorite method of getting people to do what you want them to do.) No, he said “Help them.”

Do you hear that today? In every relationship, and especially in the Church, ask how you can help someone become the very best version of themselves possible. It will take practice, it will take commitment to each other, and it will take reliance, total reliance, upon Jesus who blesses “peacemakers”.

One last thought: It is really hard to practice this relational style of following Jesus if you aren’t with His followers on a regular basis. If you love Him, find a way to love His followers, getting together with them often. 

But God Knows

But God Knows

“But He knows the way that I take. When He has tried me, I will come out as gold.” Job 23:11

I hate losing things, especially something valuable or irreplaceable. I have carried a picture of my wife in my wallet for over 40 years. It is her senior picture. The edges are well-worn, but the beauty in that photo never fades. Several years ago we made a road trip from North Dakota to New York State to visit our son and daughter-in-law who were attending university at Binghamton. Within a day of arriving I could not find my wallet anywhere. I won’t go into details, but we scoured the car, our clothes and everywhere we could think, and found nothing.

The Eternal Value of Love

The Eternal Value of Love

“The world and the desires it causes are disappearing. But if we obey God, we will live forever.” 1 John 2:17

My first car is certainly recycled by now, its rusting exterior either melted and used elsewhere or degrading at the bottom of a landfill. Perhaps the rubber from the tires are now part of the asphalt I travel on with my new vehicle. That 1967 Volkswagen van was decorated with tie-dyed curtains and the spare tire cover was painted with an alpine scene. Since then I have gone through at least a dozen vehicles.

Mindful of Mercy

Mindful of Mercy

“The Mighty One has done great things for me, and His name is holy. His mercy is from generation to generation on those who fear Him.” Luke 1:49, 50

If we listen carefully to Mary’s beautiful song the Magnificat, we may hear the foreshadowing of Jesus’ words about His reason for coming. Mary sings of proud hearts scattered, thrones toppled and the lowly exalted. Her song envisions the hungry satisfied with good things and the rich sent away empty. At the conclusion of her Prophetic refrain, she say, “He has helped His servant Israel, mindful of His mercy,…” (Luke 1:46-55)

Spinning a Narrative

Spinning a Narrative

(“I know what you have done, and that you are neither cold nor hot.” Revelation 3:15)

I would listen and, knowing what others
had said they had heard,
would scar my soul over the silence that
did not flow
but was the weight of summer obscurity.

I thought my sight was blurred,
my ears unhearing the very thing
I wished to find.

Lock me in my room, and do not let me out
until I’ve spent the night in the sweetest reverie
I’ve read about from men of old,
women like angels told,
and stories unfolded by names I heard quoted
at meetings of the devoted.

I paced, I read, I played three chords;
instead of songs or lengthy prayer
my eyelids like lead scratched my waiting watch.

I was certain no one had longed as deeply as I,
yet there was only the shallow dribble of my own mind’s
constant turbine spinning a narrative that has followed from
then until now. What I believed, hope and sought was
never as glowing as
the fireside stories; of parables in street shoes
and the buried treasure always discovered for the effort.

I have chased You, only Father, not well. I am tired,
I am weary, I have gone this far on this tiny soul’s
capacity alone.

Let me rest now, my breath is shallow. The rain has beat
upon the windows through the night
and the puddles are deep in the sunken footprints

Of a man who carried a mislaid burden much too far
up the mountain.

And yet the tears remind me there is so much love
I could never be satisfied, never filled, never stalling;
for the laying down of my burden is the only action
that leaves no footprints for the torrents to fill.

Mutters and Utterances

Mutters and Utterances

(“Some magicians think they can wake Leviathan. So let them say their curses and curse the day I was born.” Job 3:8)

I was wondering when your divination would show its hand.
When the mutters and utterances under your breath
would cast their obelisk shadows across the land.

I cannot say what I wish I could. The lake is full of fury,
the river a crease across the countryside. And every moment
that looks darker than the last
is prophesied to be the final event on the calendar
that you think you began.

How many births must there be until
people give each other room to breathe.

The hospitals are riddled with shrapnel and blood,
and yet we lock our doors to the innocents for fear
there is a magician hidden among them. And Jesus never

Enters the doors of churches who do not open theirs.

It feels like a million years of crying, each birth preceded
by twice as much dying. Can I ask you for a hand before you
dismiss me from your sphere? Where did we learn to put
predetermined circumferences around our circle of friends?

I wait too long now. The songs lie dormant in an age so far gone
that the tears follow my wrinkles from the corner of each eye
along the creases in my cheeks. The weeks pass and summer slips
by; a brief breeze of someone I once knew by name.

When grief finally erupts from its deep springs, the mourning
over losses (years of love, missed endearments) obscures the sky
and I hear my papa cry, “you make a better door than a window.”

These days (no lie) I would rather sneak out of the way
than take the lumps for discovering what I had always wished

To be true.