When I was a child I was afraid of the deep water. When someone said, “we’re going to the deep end” of the pool, I was immediately full of fear. These days, I live in the deep water. Sometimes it’s fun. Sometimes it’s scary. I’ve finally learned that no matter the circumstance (scary, fun or otherwise!) … Read more About
The plantains look promising. Thanksgiving is only 4 days away. Perhaps I can choose 4-5 of these Guatemalan fruits to contribute to our feast. I wonder. I choose them. I imagine cooking them just as my cousins have taught me. In reality I will be praying over the skillet something very holy like: “Lord, please make this all work out well!” I love Thanksgiving, don’t you?
I actually went into the grocery because I don’t think I have anything for breakfast tomorrow. I was out for another reason – this was just a convenient stop on my path. But because I live in a small town where the conversations never cease, I left the grocery with plantains for Thursday; with a baptism schedule for a new infant connected to our congregation; and a renewed connection with a musician who will come and offer a song to bless our worship. That is why I never stop being amazed at the way God works! Grocery runs are never about what I need in the kitchen.
I have plantains. But I came home with so much more. And I totally forgot to get anything for breakfast! Somehow this all gives me great peace.
Sometimes I find myself listening to others who are finding their way through paths of life I’ve already walked. Maybe it happens with you too. The more experiences we have, the more we find ourselves in the repeating scenario. Patterns, history and learning come around…again and again. Occasionally we grow a bit in wisdom, though humility begs to remain a constant companion.
Within all the repeating patterns, new is constantly being revealed. Each generation adds their unique perspective. Each era carves out its expressive mark to say: “We were here. We counted. We shaped the course of history – or culture – or humanity, in some particular way. We did it better.” On a larger scale we name the eras and ages accordingly: The Iron Age; The Bronze Age; The 60’s; The Greatest Generation; The Millennials…and on and on and on.
Job built a life of solid, consistent faithfulness and success. He loved God. He loved his family. He was a leader. Respected by all, Job personified one who had it all together. And then, for no reason he could comprehend, Job lost it all. Health, family, wealth and security; he couldn’t restore it. Distraught in his situation, Job didn’t understand how this could happen when he had been so careful to live a life of integrity and faithfulness. Even though he was angry with God, Job knew this: it is only God who holds the wisdom of the ages and only God can truly restore all things. In his struggle, Job kept naming this truth.
Everything we perceive is partial. Every great thought and discovery is a tiny glimpse into the whole. What if the unique perspective each generation offers is much more about what God is offering to us, than what we are offering to the world? Perhaps God gives to each generation the particular wisdom, grace and contribution that is part of the whole being woven throughout history.
To “fear the Lord” is to accept and receive the vastness of our Creator and the vulnerability of our place in the world. If I trust God then I know my life counts simply because I am an expression of the One who created me – and my Creator is complete, whole and full of wisdom. If I understand my vulnerability I can rest in the assurance that my worst day or my greatest weakness is nothing compared to the grace of Christ in my life.
We don’t have to “make” our mark in the world. We ARE a mark in God’s plan that is unfolding on earth and heaven. We live it in the hands of our Creator with acceptance and struggle. Either way, the Lord holds the wisdom we need for our lives. And God gives freely to those who ask.
Prayer beginnings… God thank you for providing glimpses of your wisdom. I see it in…
Please give me wisdom for this situation in my life….
We trust you, Lord, and we need you. Thank you for being the source of wisdom that is restoring all things according to your great mercy, love and grace. Amen.
But in fact God has arranged the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. If they were all one part, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, but one body. – I Corinthians 12:18-19
Yesterday was Veteran’s Day. Different expressions of gratitude, respect, appreciation and love showed up in so many places. I didn’t see a parade or hear any bands. Something else really beautiful happened. From Sunday through Monday morning people poured in with the stockings filled with love for our deployed military friends. Sacks of donated items arrived. Envelopes with funds for shipping were placed in the baskets. Stockings filled with love began to overflow!
Stockings prepared. Boxes packed. Prayers offered. And in the middle of the “task”, something holy began to emerge: A ritual of offering; a rhythm of tending; an act of deep gratitude and Love.
Today they leave our hands and prayers and move into the hands of deliverers, trucks, airplanes and ultimately…into the hands of men and women who are serving on behalf of our country. When the body of Christ reaches across the world with one voice to say “thank you; we see you; we love you”, the earth begins to look a little more like heaven. Every part matters…yours too!
Prayer
Lord, thank you for nudging each of us to do our small part today. And thank you for the ways you connect us so we can experience the joy of being one. Please bring more of heaven to earth in us. Amen.
Many people were dressed in black as we gathered for the Celebration of Life. Flowers were placed, the guest book was ready and the screen scrolled pictures of a life well lived. We came to celebrate the life of Karen; to grieve and to honor the gift God gives us in life on earth. Her roles were many, her zest for living contagious. Friends of old and new shared stories with one another. A family with heavy hearts held hands to strengthen their spirits for this day. We dressed in black to express our mourning, and black allows the Light to shine so well.
When he walked through – also clothed in black – we didn’t think it was that odd. There is a ministry here for such as him and there are people who come each week with helpers. Perhaps he belonged to one of these. He walked right through the crowd and slipped into Asbury Hall as if he knew exactly where he was supposed to go. He sat down. Handsome, strong and solid black. He made no sound. He was not confused or lost. He was present.
Someone guided him out a few minutes later as the music began and people were settling into their seats. We looked at his tag. With a CT address and a Predators symbol on his collar, we followed the clues and called. His master was hiking near the creek. He said he would come to claim him. We explained it to our visitor: “your master is on his way so just sit right here and he will come to claim you.” Our friend – solid black – sat down and waited. He knew.
As the service began and the stories were shared, Karen’s love for animals became a consistent theme. Her daughter carries on the tradition through her work at a local vet clinic. She even remarked that the dog looked a bit familiar. I wonder. I wonder if she is going to be at work one day and see the dog that attended her mother’s funeral? I wonder what it was that compelled this handsome creature – all clothed in black – to find his way from the creek, into the building and all the way over to Asbury Hall – to be present at this celebration of life.
Sometimes blessings just walk through the door and find their way to the spot they have been summonsed to go. We don’t always have to understand why. Appearances of grace…and a Master that is always ready to come and lead us home when our mission is complete.
We were sitting on the couch watching TV when a big crash sounded from the screened porch. We jumped up and ran to see; I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The beautiful hand-painted pottery plate I had so carefully carried home from Nicaragua lay shattered into a hundred pieces on the porch floor. The iron frame that it had been resting on was still securely hanging on the wall. A large snake had climbed all the way up the wall, pushed the plate off the frame and then wrapped himself around the iron curves; he was resting peacefully. I was stunned. Two things ran quickly through my mind:
Oh no! That plate reminded me of something I never want to forget
and now it’s shattered!
Oh my! This snake came here to remind me that I am forgetting very quickly…
We had to make a quick decision and I knew we couldn’t kill him. So we got the broom and helped him let go of the frame. We shuffled him off of our porch and back into the dark of the night. He was gone and I was left picking up the pieces of a fading dream I wasn’t ready to leave behind.
The plate was a hand painted piece of clay pottery from Nicaragua. It was of an iguana. The colors were beautiful and the expression of the culture and wildlife were vibrant and inspiring. I had imagined that if I could always see that plate, with its beautiful way of sharing the culture, I would never forget what God showed me during that first experience in Central America. Now my reminder was in hundreds of pieces. I picked it all up and placed it in a paper sack. One day…I will put all the pieces back together. I envisioned many ways this could be done but the right idea remained elusive.
Fast forward a few years later I was walking through the Main Street Festival as a quick way to kill time between Sunday morning worship and evening youth group. I stumbled upon a booth that caught my eye. There were crosses of all sizes and they seemed to be made from odd pieces of something. Intrigued; I stepped inside. The artist shared her story. Every cross was indeed made from broken things. Most were created from stained glass windows of churches that were being taken down. All of the crosses were inspired by the wisdom of I Corinthians 1:18:
For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. – I Corinthians 1:18
I asked her if I could bring her my sack of shattered pieces, the pieces of Nicaragua.
Broken pieces; restored hope
Several months passed when the artist was back in town for another street festival. I went by her booth, and found the cross she had so thoughtfully created. The shattered plate, the snake’s intended destruction, and the beauty of the Nicaraguan artist who painted this piece: all were restored. That same summer I returned to Nicaragua with a team of high school students ready to experience God in another culture.
For several years I carried my sack of broken pottery with me. It made a few moves, was stored in barns, closets and corners along the way. Until the day came that those pieces could be formed into something beautiful. My first time in Central America opened my mind and spirit to things I had not known of God, or of myself. It inspired a journey of following the Spirit that has never stopped teaching and shaping me into the person God created me to be. I am grateful.
Sunset in Leon, Nicaragua
What pieces are in your sack of broken things? Be watchful. At just the right time your eyes or your heart will see an opening for restoration, wholeness and new life. You will know to lean in and see what God has to give you. However it comes, just let it be. Broken things being restored is a beautiful gift of the risen Christ and it often comes in surprising ways.
What if the narrow door is not so much about WHO gets in or out but WHAT we let go of as we enter? Scripture paints a picture of holy space as being pure and safe and complete in love. Light is present and darkness has vanished; it is no more. Who doesn’t want to be in that space?
The “narrow door” Scripture reminds me of an experience with a group of students. We were on a youth overnight retreat, spending the night in a cave and exploring the next day. The place we slept was big and cavernous. Moisture dripped from the roof of the cave during the night. Sleep was fleeting and dreaming scarce. The tangible presence of excitement and fear set up with us as we settled in for the night. The next morning we embarked on our exploring. Moving through dark wide-open spaces and shining our flashlights to see the wonder of all that resides under the ground, we were mesmerized! Then we came upon some tunnels. And then we came upon a tiny, narrow passage – one we all had to move through.
Our guide let us know from the start: “you can get through this narrow place”. We weren’t all sure about that but we began – one by one – to attempt the passage. The smallest ones among us slipped through without much effort at all. Some of them were gymnasts whose bodies were already trained for challenging feats. Others were just small and limber; the fearless ones bounded to the front of the line.
As we waited for each one to pass through the tension grew. The bodies were bigger. Those with anxiety of tight spaces lingered toward the back of the line. I began to pray for each one, knowing we might be here a while. The last few students who entered this narrow passage had to let go of a LOT to pass through. We were all speaking words of encouragement and hope. We were praying underneath our breath. We were doing everything we could, but it was each person’s body that had to keep squishing through that narrow place. There may have been some tears. We all made it.
Jesus said the gate is narrow…
Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.
– Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew 7:13-14
I wonder if it is what we hold on to that makes finding our way through the narrow place so difficult? The less we carry, the freer we become. The more we let go of, the easier it is to embrace the faith that moves mountains. Letting go of resentment and bitterness and betrayal can feel like giving up – until you feel the freedom of not carrying that weight! Offering forgiveness so you can let go and move on is a powerful way to lessen your load. Shedding the lies of shame and guilt makes space in our spirits for hope and restoration. Releasing ourselves from the structures and relationships that shut us down rather than empowering us to fly is not easy. But stepping into that narrow place leads us to full life.
It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. – Galatians 5:1
Is it time to let go and squish on through the narrow way? Yes, the road is hard, AND there sure is a lot of freedom on the other side of grace! Can you release your grip on one thing that is holding you back today?
“Do one thing every day that scares you.”
– Eleanor Roosevelt
“Some of the wise will stumble, so that they may be refined, purified and made spotless until the time of the end, for it will still come at the appointed time.”
Daniel 11:35
I used to think I had to get it all together before I gave it all up…to God. I thought I had to hold myself back in the shame of mistakes and failures, or as a sign of knowing I didn’t and couldn’t deserve more. How do we ever feel good about coming to God with our darkness? The perpetual punishment may have seemed like a way to show God how sorry I was for my errors. And perhaps even prevent me from repeating mistakes, although that approach never leads to grace.
There was a season of hiding where I convinced myself I could hide from God until I got “good enough” or just got everything under control. And there was a surrendering season when I realized God already knew me and I was only playing games with myself. It takes a lot of energy to try and steer the forgiveness of God! Something was missing and it seemed like this might be the dam. I let go and decided to just be real with the one who created me.
My thought process slowly started changing as I began to experience mercy in undeserved moments. I started finding words of hope in the darkest of places. I found Jesus waiting…in prayer, with tears…waiting and hoping I would look up and see the offering: the gift of mercy and grace. Because more is coming…
“I realize that falling isn’t graceful but I thank the Lord that falling is full of grace”
– Andrew Peterson
There is every indication in Scripture that our struggles are a pathway to new life – the life God created us to have. It is not a life without challenge; it is life lived from the Spirit with amazing freedom, power and love! When Jesus shows up in our mess, something new begins to happen. And it is always leading us to redemption, restoration and wholeness. Christ restores us.
“He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.” – John 15:2
Peter was one of the disciples with Jesus from the beginning of his ministry. He was the disciple Jesus chose to first lead the church. A fisherman by trade, Peter was a hot-tempered, highly driven man with a passion for the mission. When Jesus encountered a challenge Peter was quick to draw his sword in defense. He often had to be told to stand down. Peter believed Jesus was the Messiah and he had confessed Jesus as Lord. He would do anything for him.
Still…in a moment of crisis and fear, Peter denied knowing Jesus in any way. He walked away in a moment of great need and denied the very person he desired so much to honor. He abandoned his own belief and gave fear his voice. It was a pretty big stumble, a failure of immense consequence. A moment he could never forget. His sorrow was so great! Maybe you know the feeling. Here is the story as Luke tells it: https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=luke+22%3A47-62&version=NIV
But that is not the whole story. Jesus knew Peter would have to be restored if he was going to fulfill the life he was created to live. Peter’s big stumbling, became the impetus for his discovery of his life’s mission. Even though he had both faith and knowledge of Jesus before he denied him, it is actually in his being restored after that denial when Peter truly experiences the mercy of God. Jesus held nothing against him.
Peter receives the grace of another chance and to receive what he never deserved but what he needed in order to really live: grace and restoration. Jesus offers him both without hesitation. And then the deeper adventure for Peter’s life begins.
Some of our stumbling will cause us great grief. There may be consequences we have to live through or losses we have to accept. But that is not where it stops. God walks through those dark valleys with us and Christ leads us to higher ground. We are restored in moments, across seasons and throughout our lives. This is the real journey walking with God.
When you find yourself stumbling, look up! Grace is about to catch you and as you are able to receive it, life will be forever changed. Anticipate the more that is coming…
Prayer Holy God, please help us to remember that our falls are never where you leave us. The arms of Christ are always reaching out to catch us in your grace. We need you, Lord. When we stumble today, please catch us. And when we fall hard, thank you for finding a way to restore us to the true life we are created to live. Help us to keep stumbling and falling straight into you. Let it be. Amen.
The sign carved into to marble street entering Ephesus. It is the sign that let visitors know there were Believers in this town during the early church years. It began as the Ichthus (the fish) but was added to as that symbol became known by those who were persecuting Christians.The “rose window” designed into a church in Rhodes, GreeceThe design of a carpet made for Holy Week in Guatemala, 2017Notice the window in the center above the doors of this 1868 design of Franklin First United Methodist Church (Historic Sanctuary) in Franklin, Tennessee. Curious? Go visit the Main Campus of this same church (120 Aldersgate Way) and look for the design.
What connects us, I believe, is largely lost on us. I am self consumed. Every generation has the latest answer to the world’s questions. I confess to be much too quick to add my answers too. But in the context of what I’m seeing, and have been seeing over the past several years is that God is reaching out to reveal more and more of the Holy to us. We use the words “kingdom of God” to describe the world as God created it to be. And in that sense…what I see is that the “kingdom of God” is advancing. Quickly. In beautiful ways. In ways that shake us to our core. In ways that occasionally feel like the road is being wiped out in front of us. This “revealing” challenges our foundations and traditions and hopes. I am all for the “holy” being revealed until it means I have to do something different! Like step out of my comfort zone and into the place where I have few answers and have to become like a child again. Seeking divine help so not to harm as I walk along the way.
When Jesus walked on earth his path shook the foundations of many. And it welcomed those who had long been determined to be excluded from the “holy” for one reason or another. It all seemed to make sense…until it didn’t. When I saw the design in the marble street in Ephesus my heart skipped a few beats. And since then, I’ve been looking and watching for all the things I have not seen before, although they have been here all along. God is mystery. God is concrete. God is justice. God is mercy. God is love.
The resurrection of Jesus reminds me that God is so much more than I will ever conceive God to be. And when I need to see what the Holy might be like, I have been given Christ to show me the way. And I trust Jesus.
Easter morning comes with so much joy! I jump up to see the streets after the night of Holy Saturday. They are quiet. The bell rings where I am staying. The brooms are just beginning to dawn and every now and then I see a well dressed couple rushing not to be late for an early Easter gathering that I cannot see. I slow down my pace and think of the women taking spices to the burial site of Jesus.
I receive word from home as the crowd gathers for sunrise and my heart fills with joy for what they will find. I feed the pigeons and two men who slept in the doorways; bread for this day…bread for life. The liturgy begins pouring out of my mouth as I walk down the sidewalk: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, and blessed is your son Jesus Christ…..” My heart is full.
Listening for the message of Maundy Thursday in a different culture is not hard when everything around you is shouting in images and colors and fabric and incense. Who knew the world was so interested in Jesus Christ? In spite of a host of holiday distractions to entice, what they have come to see is this story of the Christ. It is a tradition of the 16th century (Spain) that has remained. No bunnies, no eggs, no chicks to buy. Plenty of food and fanfare, for sure, but total silence when the procession begins and the story passes by the crowd.
The only connection I can think of immediately is the Israelites when the Ark of the Covenant was going before them or passing by them. I did not come to see so much as I came to be with these people as they express their greatest tradition and greatest love.
The message I hear on Maundy Thursday is not surprising….”love one another as I have loved you.” (John 15:12)
The plantains look promising. Thanksgiving is only 4 days away. Perhaps I can choose 4-5 of these Guatemalan fruits to contribute to our feast. I wonder. I choose them. I imagine cooking them just as my cousins have taught me. In reality I will be praying over the skillet something very holy like: “Lord, please make this all work out well!” I love Thanksgiving, don’t you?
Yesterday was Veteran’s Day. Different expressions of gratitude, respect, appreciation and love showed up in so many places. I didn’t see a parade or hear any bands. Something else really beautiful happened. From Sunday through Monday morning people poured in with the stockings filled with love for our deployed military friends. Sacks of donated items arrived. Envelopes with funds for shipping were placed in the baskets. Stockings filled with love began to overflow!
Easter morning comes with so much joy! I jump up to see the streets after the night of Holy Saturday. They are quiet. The bell rings where I am staying. The brooms are just beginning to dawn and every now and then I see a well dressed couple rushing not to be late for an early Easter gathering that I cannot see. I slow down my pace and think of the women taking spices to the burial site of Jesus.
Life in the Deep End 