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.