I Heard the Guys

I Heard the Guys

(“And let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season we shall reap, if we do not give up.” Galatians 6:9)

I heard the guys on death row yelling, “this
might be the last Armageddon”
while I wondered what it meant to people busy dying.

When the shades are drawn with only dusty rays
landing on the ledges of hope, we appeal to the
End of Days
to finalize our anxieties.

Yet the skinny kids across the neighbor fence
with bellies that ache and eyes too dry to read
play ball against the splinters, curse the stifling winters.
We scold their language and turn the news up louder.

I heard the gathered in the pews say, “this might
be the prophesied Doomsday “
while I wondered what it meant to people busy crying.

When the stained glass is forgotten, bread is only shared
with the brightest and best, the Greatest Hope for a purer
land we envisioned with a single tribe of hats and ribbons,
atomic lyrics and first world sanctity.

I heard the Son on the Cross-piece say, “this is
the Day of Redemption”. When the world did violence
he invited child and childless to

A pierced life so bright only the guys on death row could see.

Sowing to the Spirit

Sowing to the Spirit

“If you plant in the field of your natural desires, from it you will gather the harvest of death; if you plant in the field of the Spirit, from the Spirit you will gather the harvest of eternal life.” Galatians 6:8

Have you ever wondered who was the first person who thought that putting seeds underneath the ground was a good thing? We simply take it for granted that something should sprout once seed is sown into a fertile field. It seems counter-intuitive; that by emptying our hands of those tiny seeds we will eventually harvest something bigger and better.

Jesus said it this way: “A grain of wheat remains no more than a single grain unless it is dropped into the ground and dies. If it does die, then it produces many grains.” (John 12:24) So, not only does the sower end up with empty hands, but the seed itself “dies”. Out of our sight, underneath the black earth, it bears all the markings of the grave.

Yet we know from experience that, given time, we will see an amazing process. Perhaps you had a sandwich today, or a hamburger, or tortilla. The bread you consumed is the end result of this miracle of planting and harvesting, sowing and reaping, dying and living. A single seed of grain gave birth to a stalk of a hundred more. Those were harvested and ground into flour, eventually becoming the delightful bread that accompanied your meal.

Paul takes this concept one step further and tells us we can sow into two different fields, giving two different results. We can sow to our “natural desires” or to the “Spirit”, resulting in either death or eternal life. Every follower of Jesus has this choice daily.

When we make decisions based on our self-interest alone, we reap “death”. Relationships suffer, our spiritual life becomes dry and discontent rises. Life is neither enjoyable or ultimately pleasurable because self-interest can take us only so far.

But, when we make decisions based on God’s Spirit, especially as revealed through Jesus Christ, we reap “eternal life”. This does not mean “heaven” primarily. It means a quality of life that is God-like. It echoes His self-giving nature. As we decide to follow the Spirit’s lead, we experience a harvest that leads to greater love in our own hearts. We reap joy that is not dependent on the winds of changing circumstance. And the fruit of peace rules our thoughts and relationships as we learn to be like Jesus.

Here are some examples. Sowing to the natural self involves a scolding nature. Sowing to the Spirit involves a supportive nature. The person who is self-interested will often try to dominate others. It doesn’t matter if the cause is righteous or not, dominance is not of the Spirit. Instead, the Spirit it gentle and supportive by nature.

A few sentences before Paul talks about sowing and reaping he wrote, “if someone is caught in any kind of wrongdoing, those of you who are spiritual should set him right; but you must do it in a gentle way.” (Galatians 6:1) Do you see the non-scolding nature of the Spirit? Even when someone is doing wrong, those who are “spiritual” set them straight in a gentle way. Scolding seldom reaps the God-kind of life; whereas supportive guidance can produce great results.

Criticism sows to the natural self. When we look at people and behaviors with a critical eye we are more intent on judging than on helping. Instead of criticism, perhaps we can find ways to help carry the person’s burden. “Help carry one another's burdens, and in this way you will obey the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2) Can you imagine what would happen if every follower of Jesus became less critical and simply offered to help ease the burden of the troubled folks around them?

Admittedly, sometimes the “giving” nature of the Spirit feels like losing; just like we empty our hands of the seeds which we plant. And, self-interest feels like winning; though we keep nothing but dry and dusty seeds. Learning the Spirit’s way is not easy, but it is the way of life. 

Think about Jesus and His interaction with the “sinners” of His day? How often did He scold? Was He critical? He had lunch with Zacchaeus, an embezzling tax-collector, without publicly berating him. Jesus stood between an adulteress and the scolding crowd, bringing her grace and healing. He healed, He set free, He loved, forgave and empowered men and women to live in the light of God’s grace. Let us sow to the Spirit in the same ways. The results are truly eternal.

Weak with Love

Weak With Love

“I charge you, young women of Jerusalem, ‘If you find my beloved, what are you to tell him? Tell him that I’m weak with love.’” Song of Solomon 5:8

It’s all well and good to tell Christians “You should fall deeper in love with Jesus.” But do you know how many times I have seen people who love to sing, who raise their hands swaying to “He Loves Me, Oh How He Loves Me”, who then go out and vilify people they do not like? What is wrong with this picture?

Fully 80% of white evangelical men still support a president who falsely claimed Obama was a Kenyan-born Muslim, who bragged about groping women and who cannot stop throwing accusations at people he views as “enemies”. While he gripes about “fake news” and calls other people names, he wants to change libel laws because journalists write things he does not like.

This is not a political post. Here is my experience: I have seen this behavior happen in the evangelical church decades before Trump campaigned for President. I see it on Facebook every day, and so do you. Good “loving” Christian post inflammatory articles about Muslims, gays, “liberals” and “atheists” and protesters. They leave churches or make it extremely uncomfortable for pastors who simply want to express the love of God in Christ.

I have seen worship leaders, who wanted extended times for people to “love on God”, who lie about other Christians, gossip about people they have come to disagree with, and make start division among God’s people. Anyone who is “other” is outside their circle of love.

Yet, they love to “love on Jesus”.  The time has come for me to no longer be subtle. I can no longer support an entire movement that says we “love God” all the while looking like we hate whole groups of His creation. It is time for a revolution; a revolution of love. It is time for revolt; a revolt against trying to religiously one-up everyone else. It is time for “repeal and replace”. Repeal the commitment to fighting “culture wars” and replace it with compassion of grace!

Sunday, I will begin a new series in the Gospel of Matthew. We often skip the genealogy in the first chapter. Would it surprise you to note that, included in the Son of God’s pedigree are prostitutes, adulterers and adulteresses, pagans and people “outside” the circle of faith? And, if you were a first century Jew, you would be highly offended that four women are included in that genealogy!

But, by the Spirit, Matthew will have none of our spiritual nose-turning. This is family dysfunction, and it is God’s family! It’s high time we stop talking about “loving on Jesus” if we cannot also “love on our neighbor” with the same passion.

So, if you find my Beloved, please tell Him I am weak with love. I am weak-kneed over every neighbor He has put in my life as well. The deeper I love Him, the deeper I love those who are also the objects of His love.

Father, I am so sorry for the times I have thought someone else needed my anger instead of Your grace. Deliver me from saying how much I love You if I won’t also be known as a lover of people.

Winding Up

Winding Up

(“Brothers and sisters, do not be children in your thinking; rather, be infants in evil, but in thinking be adults.” 1 Corinthians 14:20)

Winding up another campaign to amass the anger
of minds that have leaned too long upon
provincial haze and
parochial obsessions

The speaker granted one question:

“Who, sir, do you answer to?”

Incomplete candor settled like coal fumes from a grade-school furnace,
while the answer quivered, a bird without a wing, and the inquisitor
waited. Not willing to pounce and certainly not a predator,
he tossed the question for an easy layup. But

The question hung above the rim, the speaker could not discern
if he was defense or offense. Swipe the question from the air or
finish with a full sweep of his arms. Bring the house down or

Bring

The House

down?

It takes at least three cups of coffee to finally understand the hue
of the other, the shade of another, and rescue ourselves from corners
of shadow into wall-less

Dances of light.

Traveling Companion

Traveling Companion

“While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and began walking with them.” Luke 24:15

We had started out early in the day. It was mid-summer and the three of us had been planning the backpacking trip well before Dale and I graduated high school that year. Dale and I graduated together, and Dave was a year older. We had known each other through our teens and attended the same church.

Now, leaving the San Francisco Bay Area behind, we were chugging along toward Yosemite in Dale’s ’69 VW bug. Our plan was to make a base camp on the high plateau of Tuolumne Meadows and follow the trail along the Tuolumne River to its “Grand Canyon”. The adventures of that nine-day trip would fill a small book.

Before we ever reached Yosemite we noticed white smoke and an acrid smell coming from the Bug’s floorboards. Our hearts sank, expecting the worst. Did the climb into the Sierras put too much strain on the small engine? Had the air-cooled system failed? We limped into a small town, found an auto mechanic and crossed our fingers. We did not have time for a major repair, let alone money to pay for it.

We ate a nervous lunch while waiting to hear from the mechanic. Walking back to his shop, we steeled ourselves for the bad news. “Well boys,” he said, “you’ve just got a couple burned-out wires.” Next question: How much? “$90, and I can get you back on the road in an hour.” We combined our finances, paid the man, and continued our adventure.

That evening we set up our tents, talked around the campfire and planned our first day on the trail. Having been told by the Park Ranger that bears were unusually aggressive that summer, we also strategized how to keep our food from their reach.

Rising the next morning, we made about four miles down the trail and set up camp in a semi-circle of Ponderosa pines on the bank of the Tuolumne River. We put our food in a drawstring bag and tied it off to a high branch about a quarter mile from our camp. After fishing for a while we set up for the night.

The sky was clear and it rarely rains in the summer in Central California, so we decided to sleep under the stars. All three of us lay awake, enchanted by the inky sky dotted with diamonds and pearls. We laughed, joked, and were glad we had made it this far.

About 2 a.m. Dave poked me in the side and said, “Mark, are you awake?” “I am now”, I mumbled.” “There’s a bear in our campsite!” I saw nothing, but I did not sleep the rest of the night, every sound a 500-pound bear walking on twigs. Five minutes after Dave gave me the frightening news, Dale sat straight up in his sleeping bag and said, “Bear? Where’s a bear?” Then laid right back down asleep again.

We didn’t complete our trip down the Tuolumne. Instead, we high-tailed it back to our base camp and came up with a plan B. We drove to nearby June Lake to camp and do some fishing. Unfortunately, the mosquitoes were worse than the bears! They were swarming everywhere. Plus, they were so large that every time they took a bite out of you they left a tip for the waiter. We made a quick “Plan C” decision to go visit some of Dave’s relatives in Reno. We swam, did some river rafting and had an incredible time.

Our adventure stays in my memory because of my traveling companions. The men described in Luke 24 were traveling together. Having witnessed Jesus’ crucifixion, these two of His followers were sad and distressed. Then Jesus joins them on the road. He joins them in their journey, asks about their sorrow, and reminds them that the Son of God was destined to suffer before He entered His glory.

It is not until they arrive home, invite Him in and break bread together that they realize who He is. “Weren’t our hearts burning within us while he talked with us?” they said.

My journey with Dale and Dave is one of my favorite memories, and I hope it is for them as well. But, far sweeter, and far more permanent, is the present Traveling Companion I have in the Risen Christ. He has never left me in this long journey; not through the difficulties, nor in my frailties.

We were not meant to journey alone. Be encouraged, invite Jesus to travel with you. Not only is He your companion, He is the Way itself. Rely on Him, put all your trust in Him. You were made for friendship with the God of all Creation through Jesus the Risen One.

Counted Only

Counted Only

(“Only the person involved can know his own bitterness or joy—no one else can really share it.” Proverbs 14:10)

The bathtub sat clawfooted upon the ground
filled with rain water after the storms of hail and sun
crossed the sky like yellowed venetian blinds.

The man’s geography was no more than shed-sized that day,
moving across the weathered rug for a drink or modest lunch
and back to the lounge chair where the pain had remained,
an unwelcome houseguest,
erasing memories, extinguishing joy, and this day

With no one home

His words were zero and his tears

were

Counted only by God.

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.