The Prophet's Song

This is a song I wrote a few years ago. It came to me at a time when I was realizing my own great blindness toward those that I perceived as different from me. I had a doctrine and certainty about God and life and I was sure that only those from "my tribe" had anything to teach me. Others were lost. When I was young, it was only southern baptists and my family that could inform me of how the world and God worked. Grace has slowly (and many times painfully) worked to expand my borders and teach me that labels, most of the time, become walls that God is against. Do I believe that Jesus Christ is Lord and is the Son of Man who reveals God in human form and pours that Spirit of God on all flesh? Yes! However, I do not claim that as a matter of "rightness" or superiority. It is through the light of this Christ that I am being taught to see. But I know that his Spirit, the Spirit of love and grace and mercy and hope; the Spirit that frees us from hatred and judgmentalism and exclusion; the Spirit that awakens us from apathy and leads us to cross through our fear boundaries and love deeply; this Spirit really has been poured out on all. So I have MUCH to learn about life and love and God from atheists, muslims, jews, hindus, gay people, straight people, children, senior citizens, poor people, rich people, republicans, democrats, priests, agnostics, universalists, calvinists, vegans, humanists...and on and on. ANYone who is slowly and painfully and imperfectly learning to love their neighbor as they love themselves, with a love that comes from beyond their own measly effort...you are my brother and my sister.
In saying this, I have not forsaken the church. I believe our work as a community to live and testify and offer in our daily acts the body and blood of Jesus, as it has been offered to us, is a precious calling and is one that I am grateful for, even when I slip back into old thought patterns and lies of separation and treat people as less than beloved ones. And I do believe that when human history is wrapped up that Christ will be seen and known and loved by all. But I cannot explain how this will work. And I cannot use this belief to elevate myself above anyone else, nor can I push it on others in a way that tries to "convert" them to my perspective. All I can do is be honest about my experience with this Jesus as the one who I believe has worked in me to tear down the dividing walls of hostility, even within myself! Yes, I have walls within my own person that cause my mind and heart to make war against one another. Christ's Spirit works daily through scripture and prayer to convince me of the truth of who I am as a dearly loved daughter of God.
That is what this song is about. I have been hesitant to share it because it never felt finished. Now I think I like it, although some days I'm not sure. But, as a recovering perfectionist, I think it's an important step for me to just go ahead and put it out there. I'm an amateur as a vocalist, a songwriter, and as a guitar player. The title of this work is called "The Prophet's Song". Therefore, I think this raw, uncut video of a mom in her "work clothes" who feels a burning message in her heart and wants to sing about it is quite fitting. So if you're looking for professional quality, move along. But I'm beginning to believe that we less disciplined "every-day-ers" have good reason to share our imperfect art as well. The lyrics are posted underneath. Thank you for listening!!

The Prophet's Song

When the world caught its first glimpse of you

On our deep, dark, violent way

We'd built our homes with bricks of suffering

Turning our brothers into our prey.

In your eyes, we saw lightning flash

Heard the thundering roar of your voice

Sinai billowed with darkness and gloom

An idol as wrathful as us.

The veil of bigotry - thick - and meaningless

We were so young, we were so blind

We are so young, we are so blind!

Infinite love still wraps us up.

We've searched for you high in the heavens

We've traveled the breadth of the earth

Who knew that the very heartbeat of man

Is where your Spirit abides?

Wake up, wake up Mankind!

We are one, oh glory shine!

Wake up, wake up Mankind!

We are on, oh glory shine!

Love dove into the heart of the earth

Baptized in our zeal, raised in compassion

He stretched his arms wide

Bleeding sweet mercy into life.

Perfect love cast out our fear (x 4)

Hostility, your night has come

New creation has begun.

Three Dreams

I don’t remember my very first introduction to this idea in evangelical Christianity called “the rapture”. But I do remember the first time I was scared by it. I was in sixth grade and our youth group was having a lock-in at our small, rural church. Sometime around midnight we watched a faith-based production and, if my memory serves me right, the movie was called “A Thief in the Night”. The film was outdated and the dialogue a bit cheesy and the musical score sounded like something from the twilight zone. It portrayed different Christian characters suddenly disappearing and signaling the beginning of “the end times.” The ones who were “left behind” were the scoffers and mockers who did not believe in Jesus as their Savior, and had laughed at those who warned them about this coming rapture. My girlfriends and I were scared to go to the bathroom alone for the remainder of the night. Like the after-effects of a horror flick, we were afraid that we’d come back to an empty church building. We giggled and ran around in jitters, hiding from our friends and then jumping out at them, enjoying the thrill of fear.

“The fear of God is the beginning of wisdom” or so claims the old Proverb. But is this the kind of fear the Proverb is encouraging?

To my recollection, none of the “lost” kids converted that night. And my best friend, who came to youth group with me despite she and her family’s atheism, began her gradual exit from all “Christian” activity. Years later, after she became more deeply convinced of her atheism, she told me that she still feared the rapture…or at least that rapture movie. 

For me, it had the opposite effect. Rather than repulsion, I became a god-pleaser. I would do whatever it took to not get “left behind”. The next year the Left Behind book series came out. I was probably the only seventh grader in the world to read them all. But I wanted to know as much as there was to learn about this event called “the rapture” and insure I was among the “disappearances”. The thought of being left to endure the Great Tribulation was terrifying. While I was assured by those who loved me that my confession and belief in Jesus as my Savior was enough, there were conflicting messages sent in other ways. Jesus’s own parables about the talents and the ten virgins and the sheep and goats were enough to send my heart reeling and doubting such assurances.

Once this fear began taking root I started having a recurring nightmare every so often. It went like this:

I’m standing outside going about some kind of normal daily routine. I look up and I suddenly see people surrounding me beginning to float up toward the sky. I am one of them at first, but then I lag behind. I begin descending back toward the earth. I can see Jesus standing high in the sky wearing pristine, shining white garments - a smile frozen on his face, unchanged by my inability to come off of the ground and get to him. I jump. I get scared that he’s going to disappear without me. I jump again and float a little, but I never can make it up to him. I am filled with shock, disbelief and fear over my powerlessness to change what is happening.

Then I awake relieved that it was only a nightmare and quickly recite the sinner’s prayer again, hoping that it is enough.

Many years later I began to feel permission to question this interpretation of the biblical apocalyptic revelation, as well as some of the more commonly accepted views of hell (which was also a grave hang up for me to the trustworthiness of God). I also encountered on my spiritual journey a much more loving Jesus. This Jesus didn’t remain aloof and untouchable, but stooped low in search of me and the whole world. This Jesus would never give up and never stop hoping for his opportunity to free every soul. This Jesus gets angry and grieves the fear-based performances that we get entangled in that keep us from knowing ourselves and, therefore, knowing him. But his faithfulness and mercy are absolutely unending. He is not unmoved, but DEEPLY moved and moving, never exhausting Love’s possibilities.

When I began getting glimpses of this reality and daring to believe it might be true, my recurring nightmare stopped. It was replaced by a series of three dreams that brought me such joy. Knowing that God’s love had actually touched my subconscious dream world and healed a deep-seated fear was a humbling and beautiful experience. This God could reach me even in my sleep! It’s been a few years now and I finally wanted to take the time to write them out and share their goodness. I still use the images from the dreams to help engage and focus my imagination in prayer.

Dream 1:

I am riding in a car - a red convertible with the top down - my husband in the driver’s seat and we’re crossing over the Golden Gate Bridge. We’re the only vehicle on the road and we’re cruising along at top speed. The sound of the revved engine and the wind are deafeningly loud. 

Suddenly before us, maybe 50 feet ahead, is a great wall of white, cloudy mist. It’s too thick to see through and it stretches infinitely high, infinitely low and infinitely wide. The enormous unavoidability of this thing is heart-stopping. Mark and I glance at each other knowing that we’re going too fast to stop and are going to go through it. Both of us feel deep down that this is it. This is the end. Death. Thrill and fear and acceptance of this fate fill me as I brace myself. 

We pass through the cloud-wall and I smell the moisture and feel the coolness. I can see nothing, not even my hand in front of my face; only white. But as quickly as we are in, we are through. Our car automatically turns off and comes to a stop. Deep peace penetrates everything. We get out to admire the breath-taking beauty of our surroundings. The sun is high and shining; there are hills and grasslands in the distance and we are still on the bridge overlooking a perfectly sparkling river. A thin sheen of mist covers the sky on one side and the sun beaming on it creates the full rainbow spectrum of color. Through the rainbow, I see his face. Jesus’s face. He’s smiling and radiant and he’s everywhere. He’s the very atmosphere. He draws my gaze to something he wants to show me. I notice a three or maybe four foot high structure made of bricks that are painted pink and there is a thick book lying on the top. I know that it is mine. I approach it and feel Jesus standing beside me; his spirit in me. The cover of the book says: “Sarah: A life scarred by sin, but I was with her through it all.”

I woke up then understanding that his story of who I was differed greatly from my own.

Dream 2:

I’m outside overlooking a vast plain of shin-high grass. I’m out in it searching, perhaps for wild flowers. With suddenness the sky darkens in the distance and rain begins to pour. The sound of its approach is deafeningly loud and I understand that this isn’t just a normal rain but its drops are heavy enough to crush me. Terror strikes and I start running as hard and fast as I can away from it and toward my house that looks like an old broken down shed. I know that even if I make it home, the house will not withstand the weight of this downpour. The waters are coming after me with such speed and as the gap closes I dive and prostrate myself, face to the ground, arms covering my head. Knowing that I only have moments left, I clench and tense up waiting for cold drops to tear through my body and annihilate me. When it falls, I jolt with surprise. The rain is warm and so breathtakingly gentle. It fills me with a sense of childlike pleasure and I roll over onto my back. Relief and joy flood my soul as the water drenches me.

I woke up with a new understanding of the fear of God. He is not the god that I imagined. And while His greatness strikes an awe that can border on terror, there is not even the slightest bit of abuse in Him. He is gentle and good and full of delight.

Dream 3:

I am standing in the middle of a small town or city. There are people going about their lives, as am I. Something causes me to look up into the blue atmosphere. My heart catches and dread fills me as I see that the entire sky, east to west and north to south, has become a wall of water appearing thick and heavy, and it’s quickly descending upon the whole world. As with the other dreams, I know that this is the end. I can do nothing to stop what is coming and I fearfully posture myself to finally experience this thing called Death. I hold my breath as the water reaches my head and quickly overtakes my whole body. But, as with the previous dream, I am surprised and delighted to find this water gentle and warm, tingly and cleansing to the skin. My head comes out on the other side of the water wall and I gasp for air, relieved to discover that the thickness is not even 4 feet. As the water settles to the ground, remaining waist-deep on me, it becomes a gently flowing river. The current sweeps me up and I float effortlessly on my back as though I am riding a raft. I look around and the place is new. I ride the current through a stunningly magnificent valley, the sides are decorated with hills of trees, shimmering waterfalls, and vibrant colors that gleam under an afternoon sunlight. Once through the valley, I am taken into a village where the river ushers me into a small antique shop. I look around at the relics and treasures of time gone by that the store holds. Then I see a father with his young son who is maybe six years old. They are looking around together, pointing out different antiques while picking others up to admire with awe and wonder. The son then remarks to the father, “And Dad, all of this stuff is free now for everyone!”

I woke up feeling God’s delight in all things being made new.

In my opinion, there is significance in the dreams: God as mist and rain and water. God as inescapable goodness. God as gentle and kind. God, not sparing us from the mystery of death, but using it to loose the chains of fear. He’s very different from the “Jesus” of the nightmare, the anti-christ of my imagination who follows fear with despair and expects humanity to figure out how to reach him in order to escape death. In contrast, the God of the three dreams overtakes the whole world. Nothing and no one gets left out of the baptismal holiness.

I’m not making any doctrinal statements out of this (to me His love doesn’t fit neatly into an “-ism”), except that somehow His love is all-embracing. I once read in a book by Robert Capon that, in the same way that C.S. Lewis in “The Great Divorce” was able to imagine that all of hell existed in a tiny, microscopic crack on the ground of Heaven, Capon imagined all of hell and its souls existing in the nail scars of Jesus’ hands. Still held in his grasp. And that what he holds, he loves. We, therefore, can hope with him and trust him for EVERYTHING. He always leads the way to hope and possibility.

I don’t think that the fear of God that leads to wisdom is the kind of fear that exists in a child’s terror. So what is the fear of God that leads to wisdom (wisdom defined as the very thoughts and heart of God) rather than disgust or despair?

In my opinion, encountering the deep vulnerability of his love is terrifying. His complete freedom to be Himself and give Himself without forcing His will on anyone causes the very oceans to tremble (see Psalm 77). Yet He hides in the weak things so that in our weakness He can draw us to Him rather than frighten us away. As we begin walking with this Lover of souls, we realize that He wants to expose everything that is false in us. Every lie we’ve believed about Him and ourselves and humanity. And His loving gaze is INSISTENT that no part of us is left untouched by Him. The loneliness that we like to escape to for shelter and protection isn’t okay with a God who delights in fellowship…community…intimacy…free trust…and joy. This is a fearful experience in the beginning. But this scary road is one that fills us with longing to be truly known, not repulsion, and it leads to the wisdom of childlike delight and trust and true acts of love, not to god-pleasing performances.

I wonder if this is the meaning of Jesus’ parables? Perhaps the talents represent our true selves that He desperately desires for us to be without shame in increasing measure. And maybe the virgins and the oil represent the spiritual journey that we’re on with an admonition not to stop praying when it feels like He has abandoned us. In that dark night of the soul, we can expect Him to arrive and carry us into gladness. And maybe the sheep and the goats isn’t a story intended to threaten and manipulate us into service, but a promise that if we do not love the thirsty, naked and imprisoned parts of ourselves and humanity, if we don’t embrace our weaknesses with kindness, then we will be thrown into the eternal flame. What eternal blaze is stronger than our Father’s love? It’s a blaze that destroys the Accuser and exposes the lies and sinister voices that say “Your nakedness is ugly. Your ignorance (imprisonment) is all your fault. Your hunger and thirst is such a nuisance. You should be ashamed of such weakness.” Such falseness and absurdity needs to be burned. When we’re living believing these lies, avoiding and covering our weakness and shunning the same in others, the day of judgment always comes as an unwelcome surprise. The burning hurts. The Son of Man is the truth about us and humanity. To see him is scary at first because we’re so used to repressing vulnerability. But the blaze will never consume itself. Truth will come out purer than gold. This is why I can no longer see the eternal fire as a deterministic fate or punishment. Once a person has had enough, the flames stop hurting and start healing, though the consequences of believing the lies leave scars. Thankfully, scars are acceptable to Jesus.

At least that’s what I think. If I am wrong, I can only trust that the truth is even better. :-)

Even If

This poem (I keep calling it a poem, but it may be more psalm-like. Or it may just be a bunch of thoughts strung together) was written in loving memory of Jeremy Lewis. He was a part of my life through church and a small group that we shared and he lost his life to colon cancer in June of this year. The idea for this poem came to me the very evening of his passing as I was lying on the driveway praying for he and his wife in their final moments of his hospice care. When I came into the house after praying, I received the text in our small group thread that "Jeremy is with Jesus." The title that I gave it "Even If" was taken from the song by the group Mercy Me, which became his anthem in his last weeks. I'm not sure that it makes sense with my poem, but when I needed to title it, Even If seemed right. It took me a while to write this and it isn't perfect. But it's an expression of me that felt satisfyingly true. 
Today is my 32nd birthday. And this poem/psalm attempts to reveal the lesson that the Spirit of Jesus teaches me over and over and over again. My birthday wish as I begin my 33rd year of life is that I would be more and more fully myself and that freedom to be who I am in Christ would reign in increasing measure.

Even If

Warm concrete beneath my back; vast, blue atmosphere filling my vision.

Resting in Daylight’s comforting lap;

Clumps of leafy greens waving from giant oaks and maples

Fifty unique bird melodies singing simultaneously

Lawn mowers cutting fresh patterns of neatness in lush carpets of grass

Kids with sun-pinked skin splashing in cool water

People moving in and out of routines, conversing about the mundane, planning for weekend adventure.

I am suddenly aware that in the easy shiningness of this bright world, the vaulted ceiling of sky is as far as my eyes can see, no matter how much I strain. The reflected firmament of heaven- even at its clearest, cloudless moment- becomes a veil; a limit on infinity.

The glowing blue fades to orange… 

to pink…

to deep purple…

to black.

Fear of shadows and all that cannot be seen steals the comfort that was mine only an hour ago.

It’s thick and unknown; impenetrable. 

My eyes scan my surroundings trying to form recognition, but it’s useless. 

I wasn’t made to see in the dark. All comprehension eludes me.

My heart beats in hard hyper-vigilance; every tiny snapped twig brings to mind one thousand possible dangers. 

Thoughts run untamed on an endless string of confusion and perplexity. 

I squeeze shut my eyes and clench tightly my fists. 

Survival instincts tempt me to close my whole being, whispering false promises of security in shutting out the unfamiliar and cursing this darkness as evil.

But I’ve bitten from this apple many times before. I’ve tasted the death that follows; the easy and broad and safe road that leads to hell.

So I will - I force! - my body to lie still,

To breathe in and out to a steady, quieting rhythm.

Inhale…silence. Exhale…silence.

With my mind emptied of its terroristic chatter, my ears begin alerting me to the pleasant chirping of crickets; 

Surprise and delight jolt through my bones,

I am not alone here!

Fellow creatures invite me to join their tinkling melody in the darkness. 

An unexpected song begins to rise in my heart.

I feel their tiny cricket love seep into my checst, beckoning me to open my hands. 

All of me begins to open, to trust.

Their loudness emboldens me to open my eyes and gaze upward once again. 

The stars!

A gasp catches in my throat at the glittering blackness before me.

The sky-wall is transformed into sky-window!

In the hour of darkness, the veil has been torn!

Peering into worlds beyond, worlds glowing with light, they welcome me to wonder at them; this deeply hospitable cosmos that can only be viewed by those brave enough to lie still, to lie awake and expectant in the dark. These twinkling places that speak through their brilliance from some billions of lightyears of distance. 

The gap between me and them closes as we behold one another and my spirit joins the dance of the celestial bodies.

The Father of Lights, the faithful Abba of both day and night, pours hope into this bare-naked heart, expanding the breadth of my vision with brutal gentleness. 

My mind still cannot fathom. 

I feel small and large at once. 

Eternity pumps blood through this mortal body. 

Then an image appears of a nail-scarred hand reaching for my soul.

I am a child with barely any faith,

But still he kindly asks, “May I have your seed?”

Trembling, I place it in his crucified mark, where all fear and faith are held.

Burning eyes lock my gaze as he breathes on my tiny seed-soul.

Lightning flashes east to west and in a moment, the world is changed,

drenched in beauty and glory. Resurrection!

Heat still radiates, connecting my body to ground,

The greeting of Dawn.

Beginning.

Conversation with God

This is something I wrote a few weeks ago when I was experiencing some ugly darkness. Pouring my heart out to God and hearing and imagining his response always nourishes my soul in incredible ways. And when I use the word "imagine" I do not mean "made up" or "not real". The goodness of his Spirit is the very life of my imagination, and so the conversation that follows is very real and true. I sent it to a friend and she called it a psalm. I think she is right. The Psalms in the scriptures put language to human cries and praises to God and his response. Sometimes he doesn't have a separate voice  from the psalmist but His movement and healing can be witnessed  as the psalmist's tone changes from anguish to praise or confusion to trust.
So I offer my psalm. (As a sidenote, the voice I imagined as God's sounded somewhere between Asian the lion and a fierce but gentle elderly lady).

My call:

Can I write the pain out of my heart? I hope so. I don't know why the pain started so it's difficult to know what it will take to heal. Everything just feels so uncertain right now. There's an inexplicable anxiety that grips me sometimes. A lot of times. Anxiety over the health of my children, anxiety over my abilities as a mother, anxiety over my marriage.
And then other times I know that everything is fine and good and right. Love casts out my fear. I trust that Someone greater than me is doing unseen work; finding the lost places inside of me.
Every part of me yearns to feel home and at peace. How can I build the house of my inner being on the rock? The winds and rains will come as surely as the seasons, so where do I place my confidence so that I can know that I will be pressed, but not crushed?
You can say, "Jesus. Jesus is where you place your trust." But I don't always know how to do that. Is it with my mind that I must WILL this trust?

Spirit's Response:
I know your difficulty. Your trust must be placed in my love because it is from this love that you were born, it is in this love that you live and to this love you will die. This love is your only home. It is your identity, your purpose. And remember, I am not in a hurry in the way that you are. I will take the time to teach you properly and I will utilize every single moment. Not one of them is meaningless. There aren't any lost places in your soul. They're all found in me. The lamp of redemption will help you to see what you're not yet ready for. I've claimed every dark spot as mine. Every bit of despair, all of the deepest pits, all of the suffering, each misunderstanding, the lies, the nothings, the distrust, the hate, the toxic shame, the chaos and the fear...I've given everything so that I can have and hold all of these deaths in the very nearest and dearest place that I know. The nearest and dearest place is my Son, you see. He is everything to me. Without him, I cease to be Father and Mother. And you, my dear, are in Him. The entire cosmos is. Every atom of creation is held together in His body. Your scars are his scars.
The bosom of holy belovedness is where all of your deaths are held. Your darkness and your lostness do not scare me, disturb me or repulse me. I've embraced every part of you so that you may embrace every part of me no matter where you are. I've descended to every depth so that I may love it and be all in all.
So when you're anxious, I am there within your very feeling. When you're scared, I am not separate from your trembling. I live in your overwhelmed horror. When you're ashamed, I'm present in the burden on your shoulders and in your muscles. These primitive shelters that you build in anguish so that you can keep the company of these fool voices cannot kill love or life, so you're never alone when you make your bed there. Yes, that's right, I can reside in them and even thrive!
I will not conform to their inhospitable ways. No, never! I will be me. I am who I am. I will remain faithful and true to my character. Always. But I will make myself at home with you (and with them for as long as you insist that they have a say on things) and I will dine with you even as you look through me in your exhausting trance of disillusionment.
I will wait until you hear my voice. And then, together we will throw open the door! We will trim whatever shack you are staying in with golden ribbons of joy, and a fountain of peace right in the center. We will add windows and make them sparkle with kindness and mercy (these are the best window cleaners that allow for the clearest possible vision both ways). We will lay down a lush carpet of goodness and fill the cabinets with wine that has been aged in gladness. Incense and spices full of hope can be brought in from all over the world and we can breathe deep until the musty smell of despair dissipates. We'll take the roof clean off so that light can pour in by day and faithfulness by night. All the fuzzy creatures of gentleness will lie down in the green pastures that surround us. When we look at the place, we will hold up our glasses in awe and delight and sing, "Grace! Grace to it!" So many will flock to join us and we will say "Yes! Come and drink! There's so much!" (Because even the overflow overflows here).

What wealth I have in you, dear one! And what treasure you have in me! Rest now. Be still and know that I am God. Your mind isn't enough to will this trust for it does not even know what to trust, but mine is. My thoughts and my logic are incomprehensible love. That love is all I know about you and it is all true. You will know as I know. Keep letting go of what you thought was true. Let go. Die to your will and desire to control, as I have done. I promise you will rise to freedom.

Meditations on Grace

"How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!"

Romans 11:33

I recently had a discussion with some good friends of mine about a quote given by a well-respected Christian author. The quote read: "Too many rules is legalistic but too much grace is enabling." I understand the point that the author was trying to make, and I don't disagree with the heart of the argument he was giving regarding discipline, but it still made my skin crawl. I don't fault the author for it as, one friend reminded me, our language does use the word grace in this context rather frequently. But my hope is that the world can recognize that this definition falls terribly short of what is intended when "grace" is referenced in the New Testament.

As I speak to this, please know that I do not see myself as an expert but as a life-long sojourner whose awe broadens with each new city I discover. Everything that I write is a humble attempt to make sense of the nonsensical. I just wanted to throw that qualifier (or dis-qualifier) in there before I continue.

While legalism and grace do, I think, stand in stark contrast to one another, New Testament grace in its truest sense never ENABLES a person to indulge in what law forbids. It does sometimes supersede the law and it always forgives even the most heinous offenses, but grace includes the healing balm that frees the one that it touches. It doesn't simply turn a blind eye to evil or offer some free passes and leniency here and there. It looks evil head on and actually reveals just how ugly and wrong it is. But rather than ignore it or condemn it, grace surprisingly lets it be while revealing an incomparably better way. That may not be what you expected me to say, but it's the truth. Grace allows the wretchedness of evil to play out to its ultimate conclusion. It even absorbs the evil into itself so that it can identify and empathize with the pain of the one that has been wrecked by it. But grace doesn't stop there. It's much more relentless than that. In its allowance of evil, it embraces the one caught in evil's grip and teaches a new way to live. Without force, manipulation or coercion, grace simply opens blind eyes and deaf ears. It restores all that was destroyed. 

Having said that, the methods that grace uses are vast and mysterious. There is no one way that its infinitely creative methods chooses to work (because it will not manipulate or control to achieve its sovereign will, it has to think outside the box). There is no structure or boundary that can keep the arms and legs of grace from dancing where it will. The law, however, is a stone temple. It's a statue that has no heart and no mind of its own. Grace is a person known to the New Testament as Jesus of Nazareth. He is living and breathing and sees the beautiful people behind their behavior. He knows, for example, that the woman caught in adultery doesn't need to be stoned as commanded by the law. She's a fellow human being, after all! What one among us has not hurt another person through our selfishness?

He knows the Samaritan woman at the well, the social outcast that can't keep a husband, doesn't need to be shunned as the mores of the time demanded. He sees all of the ugliness and baggage that has been attached to her existence and he still says that abundant life can flow from her innermost being. Grace doesn't know how to disqualify.

He also sees through the empty exterior of Nicodemas, a Pharisee and ruler of the Jews who comes to speak with Jesus under the cover of night. In the true spirit of grace, Jesus doesn't tippy toe around him with niceties and say, "You're doing a great job following all the rules and keeping God's chosen people in line! Well done there, lad." No, he invites him to open his eyes to the way of the Spirit of God, which is free and moves with the unpredictability of the wind. He tells him that God's way is not to condemn under the unbending demands of Israel's instituted tradition, but to save the offenders of this law through love, mercy and self-giving. Grace isn't a one-size-fits-all teaching method. If there are 7 billion people on the planet, then there are at least  that many expressions of grace in action.

Paul called the law a tutor for children, and it is. But it is a tutor that, by itself, has no heart or brains to realize that its students aren't produced by a robotics manufacturer. That is why the writer of Hebrews called its enforcement "inferior". Jesus didn't come to set up a new system with a proper balance BETWEEN law and grace. He came to offer grace upon grace upon grace and in so doing, he fulfilled the fullest extent of the law with a righteousness that EXCEEDED that of the Pharisees. It was a righteousness called Love. In 1Corinthians Paul also teaches about love inviting us to leave childish ways behind. One of the brilliances of the cross of our crucified Christ is that it exposes the childish nature of adhering strictly to the stone-carved letter. The fact that the law could legitimately condemn a man to death for "blasphemously" referring to God as his Father and leader of this compassionate inclusion of "sinners" brings such immaturity to light.

I heard recently that the Dalai Lama has been quoted as saying, "Know the rules well, so you can break them effectively." That sounds like our Lord.

I'm reading a book by Annie Dillard called "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek". She has just finished talking about a certain kind of wasp that kills honeybees by squeezing its abdomen in order to drink the sweet honey from its mouth. While observing this, the wasp was then captured by a praying mantis who began eating the wasp. While the wasp was being eaten, he continued drinking the honey from his bee. Following this description, Ms. Dillard says:

"Nature is, above all, profligate. Don't believe them when they tell you how economical and thrifty nature is, whose leaves return to the soil. Wouldn't it be cheaper to leave them on the tree in the first place? This deciduous business alone is a radical scheme, the brainchild of a deranged manic-depressive with limitless capital. Extravagance! Nature will try anything once. This is what the sign of the insects says. No form is too gruesome, no behavior too grotesque. If you're dealing with organic compounds, then let them combine. If it works, if it quickens, set it clacking in the grass; there's always room for one more; you ain't so handsome yourself. This is a spendthrift economy; though nothing is lost, all is spent."

Now THAT is a good description of the indescribable grace. Grace doesn't water down the written code. But, by nature, it is much grander than the law. It holds it in it's inescapable grip and transforms its slaves into free sons and daughters. There's no one too gruesome, no behavior too grotesque. The lavish heart of grace just doesn't know how to give up. Oh the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God!

Easter Thoughts

“My beloved responded and said to me,
‘Arise, my darling, my beautiful one,
And come along.

‘For behold, the winter is past,
The rain is over and gone.

‘The flowers have already appeared in the land;
The time has arrived for pruning the vines,
And the voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land.

‘The fig tree has ripened its figs,
And the vines in blossom have given forth their fragrance.
Arise, my darling, my beautiful one,
And come along!’”

Song of Solomon 2:10-13

I love Holy Week. I think I really began to enjoy its annual occurrence about four years ago. I remember it was Easter Sunday and I was scheduled to work the morning shift of my desk job at the tennis club where my husband is a teaching pro. Being a holiday, there weren't many people coming in, so I was alone for most of my 6.5 hour shift. It was the first time I'd ever skipped church on an Easter and I thought I'd be a little sad to miss out on the festivities with my fellow brethren. But as the sunlight poured through the pro shop windows and I sat in complete silence perched on my stool, I became incredibly aware of something…or Someone in attendance with me. Grace. This Jesus…this resurrected Lord was surrounding me, embracing me in the Beloved. I almost didn't want to move because I was afraid that the slightest breath would distract me from the consciousness of that moment. Everything around me seemed alive. The distinct smell of tennis balls was something more than an ordinary day at work. It was the fragrance of life somehow. When I finally dared to move, I went up on the balcony overlooking the empty courts and I stretched out my arms and in a voice just above a whisper I declared, "Jesus is here." Something about the silence was so full and so breath-taking. Nothing in me had the ability to interpret what was happening, all I could do was know that it was happening.

At the time, I was reading something by C. S. Lewis. I can't remember for certain, but I think it was "The Great Divorce." The subject on my mind was to do with the intermingling of time and eternity. I've always felt such an interesting connection with Clive (Jack) Staples Lewis. I don't even always like or agree with or understand what he writes, but in my imagination he is a sort of Grandfather to me, or maybe a Great Uncle. His thoughts have the ability to draw me in and take me on a journey that pulls me outside of my normal realm of thinking and invites me to question the unquestionable and to explore this existence as a plain of infinite possibilities.

That morning, after preaching to my congregation of tennis courts, I returned to the desk and looked at the picture of C. S. Lewis that was on the back of the book. I've studied his face hundreds of times, but this particular time, my eyes filled with tears and I kissed the small, square, black and white photograph. Something in that book that he had written decades before I was even born had led me into a moment of sheer presence. It was presence with my Creator, with the resurrected Christ in me, with Uncle Jack and with…tennis balls. As Robert Capon would say, it was a surprise "beyond all liking and happening."

The feeling and intensity of that morning faded, but the faith that was birthed, or perhaps resurrected, remains a constant companion even when I forget that it's there. And it has taught me to stay awake, stay sober in the reality of here and now because that is the only place where this surprising gift of fuller presence finds us and knocks us down with its hugs and kisses and assurances of love. Faith surely isn't a feeling or an intellectual certainty, but is much more a knowing; a knowing that includes doubt as well as the very real substance of pure eternity that resides in every human heart.

Since then, Holy week has intrigued me. Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, Resurrection Sunday…the events that we remember on these days are so beyond our ability to comprehend. They burst with truth and reality and they are surely worth meditating upon throughout all of the 51 other Holy Weeks throughout the year. But as a creature caught in time, I like the anticipation and build up surrounding this week and the way that nature celebrates it with us in the newness of the Spring season. 

My favorite verses for Easter are the ones from Song of Solomon that I posted at the top. They reveal the mystical romance that is present in the cross and resurrection. In death and in suffering, in rejection and in confusion, our great Lover joined us in a holy matrimony of violent flesh with forgiving God and the silence of the grave became, not the end of our story, but the bedchamber from which new life could be conceived. And now, when all hope seems lost from our perspective; when suffering seems to be our defeat or when we think we've committed an unforgivable atrocity and the darkness of the tomb closes in, suddenly a melody comes out of nowhere to awaken something new! Arise, my darling! Or as John Mark McMillan beautifully puts it: affliction is eclipsed by glory. 

The grave has become the very place of life. Who can understand this? I sure don't. But I hear it. And moment by moment I know that this unfathomable Lover is transforming His Beloved, of which we are all a part.

May the magnitude of these days seduce us out of our fear and into their Truth.

Discipleship: A scary word?

...that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death; in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.

Philippians 3: 10-11

So, I haven't given up blogging. I know that my posts are few and far between. My problem is that I have about a thousand thoughts that I'm meditating on daily and I almost become paralyzed over what I should attempt to put into words.

I gotta say, the Holy Spirit really is an amazing teacher (and I don't mean that I'm just sitting around listening for my own nuggets or personal 'words from the Lord', but rather that I listen to a plethora of voices from scholars to mystics to friends and family and the scriptures, and as I hear them, the Spirit guides my thoughts into new realms of understanding) but man, He goes fast. The minute that I think I'm settled into an idea and that it can't get any better…it does.

So, the things that I have been pondering lately are judgment and discipleship. I haven't been pondering them much in relation to one another (although I think I'll have to get to that) but rather, as separate ideas, they are both at the forefront of my mind. Now don't get scared. I acknowledge that these two words are pretty weighty. If you've been a Christian for any length of time, you've been hit with them in one way or another. But the one I want to focus in on for this post is discipleship. I'll eventually get around to writing about my developing thoughts on judgment, but for now I don't think my understanding is ripe enough to produce a yummy piece of fruit for anyone that may be listening. All I'll say for now is that the Rose Colored Gospel (the rose being Jesus) has convinced me that judgment is always, always restorative. There is nothing to fear from the throne of Grace….but most especially condemnation and shame are not to be feared. Yes, even "unbelievers", whom we often think are and will be condemned by the Father, in reality are not. It is their own unbelief in their acceptance by him that condemns them. Condemnation is dark and ugly and deathly. But the epistle from John says that God is light and that in him is no darkness at all. But I digress. I'll get back to writing on that when my thoughts have ripened a bit more.

Discipleship…

Now I don't mean to imply that I "get" discipleship any better than judgment. I don't think I have a handle on it as much as it has a handle on me and has drawn me in for a closer look. 

For about two years I feel like I've been on a bit of a religious detox. I realize almost daily that it is still not completely out of my system (meaning my system of thinking and seeing god, myself and the world), but I am happy to be in recovery. Everything I thought I knew with certainty has crumbled like a house of straw before the breath-taking beauty of the heart of God revealed in the the cross of Christ. Only Jesus is left standing, and yet even he does not look to me as he used to.

When this "detox" began, discipleship was a word that made my stomach churn. "To be a disciple, you must count the cost…", "To follow Jesus is to lose your life…", "If you want to be my disciple you must deny yourself, take up your cross and follow me…" 

These phrases were absolutely fraught with bondage for me. To use this language was to say to me, "You're not doing enough. You're a disappointment. You still have such a long way to go. You're not really a Christian." Discipleship was the impossible measuring stick that I was tired of being compared to and always found wanting.

So the day that Grace came to me and spoke to me of my perfection in Love, of my absolute acceptance, of my sonship (daughtership sounds weird) and my blameless, spotless standing before the Father and that this has ALWAYS been the case (it did not become so the day that I "accepted Jesus" or believed and prayed just the right thing or was baptized or was "filled with the spirit", but rather was true from the moment God knew me…which was always, as I've never existed apart from him. And to be known by him is to be loved by him and to be loved by him is to be perfected by him.) I was not in any hurry to jump back into a hog pen now that I was home. 

Many people consider and talk about the prodigal son ending up in the awful hog pen because of his horrendous sins and transgressions, but I posit that the jealous older brother's hogpen was much worse. It's worse because he thinks he's home. For all of his "lack of sin and transgression" he cannot see that he's sitting in shit in a completely different country. But the father stays with him. I was the jealous older brother. But once I got a whiff of sweet, savory grace from the heavenly country, anything that smelled like the invisible hogpen I'd come from was to be avoided at all costs.

Jesus' sayings on being a disciple still stank. I was still hearing them with ears of shame.

Here's why my perspective on this was so skewed. When you believe that God is out there in Heaven somewhere offering grace and forgiveness to those who will accept it and casting into the hell of eternal, conscious torment those who refuse his way and ignite His wrath; or when you believe that he is some divine bookkeeper who, even once you've accepted his "forgiveness" keeps record of wrongs and rights in order to hand out rewards and punishments at the end of time; or when you believe that you are a sinner who must become holy and clean yourself up and confess every sin in order to be pardoned and remain in his "grace"…well hearing Jesus' words on being a disciple sounded about as appealing as becoming a martyr for allah, mainly because the disciple that Jesus describes looks nothing like the god that he seems to be asking us to serve rather than imitate. How is one to "Be perfect as your heavenly father is perfect" if this father shows vengeance and wrath and is constantly pointing out people's sin…and yet Jesus asks his disciples and followers to do the exact opposite?

Aaah…you begin to see the predicament that evangelical Christians are in today. Shall we do as He says and not as He does? Or shall we believe the Good News that God the Father really is exactly like Jesus the Son, and always has been and always will be? This is the predicament I found myself in. It's scary to let go and believe that God is like Jesus. You almost don't know what to do when you're no longer motivated by fear and judgment. Then there comes this overwhelming realization that everyone in the world is home-free, whether they believe it or not. God sees everyone the same way that He sees me, in the perfection of His love: redeemed, reconciled, forgiven. It is his utmost desire that they know this truth. This is where my desire to be a disciple has at last been ignited. 

I believe this is what happened to Paul on the road to Damascus. What causes a man to stop murdering in the name of God and suddenly lay his life down for others in the name of God? What causes him to stop carrying out judgment upon the world to rather serve the world? Listen to his own words in his letter to the Galatians:

"For you have heard of my former manner of life in Judaism, how I used to persecute the church of God beyond measure and tried to destroy it; and I was advancing in Judaism beyond many of my contemporaries among my countrymen, being more extremely zealous for my ancestral traditions. But when God who had set me apart from my mother's womb and called me through His grace, was pleased to reveal His Son in me so that I might reveal Him in the nations, I did not immediately consult with flesh and blood…"

Do you see what he said? God was pleased to reveal His Son in Paul. So when Jesus stopped Paul dead in his tracks and said, "Saul, saul why are you persecuting me?" Paul realized in this revelation, that Jesus was the son of God, and in seeing Jesus, he somehow saw himself there too. His own sonship was awakened as he realized the true nature of who his Father was. His Father was like Jesus, not taking life in wrath and religious vengeance, but laying down His life in love.

(And take notice, Paul wasn't persecuted because he went around preaching a new religion to convert people to. He wasn't saying, "Hey guys, there's a new god in town to worship and I'm right and your wrong. Now turn to Jesus or else." If that were his mission, he wouldn't have been killed. All kinds of retributive gods were worshipped at the time…what's one more? The thing that upset the religious culture was that the nature of this God he proclaimed was infinitely forgiving and merciful. This is weakness in the eyes of the world. Without fear of retribution, how do we keep the religious order? Without fear, how do we keep the social order? This was a way of life that was just too risky and must be silenced. The threat of such a "weak" and "foolish" god was too much.)

This huge revelation is the vital component that absolutely must precede discipleship and free us from all religion. Once you know who your Father is, you realize that you're like him too! And so you want to learn from him so that you know how to follow him and recognize his voice as opposed to all the other, more familiar  religious voices. It's no longer about earning rewards or approval. Reigning with Him in His kingdom is going to require a brand new mind. A mind that recognizes Heaven in the things that this world considers weak: things like forgiveness, mercy, the poor, the meek, the sick and the marginalized.

The word "disciple" now sounds glorious to my ears! Now, don't get me wrong, it is still a very intimidating concept. The fact that the highest honor for a disciple of Jesus is martyrdom doesn't escape me. It isn't even a journey that I feel I've begun to embark upon yet, except for in my dreams. I live in the wealthiest country in the world, my husband and I recently bought a 3 bedroom 2 bath house, we have two vehicles and my first priority as a mom are my two sons. I get frustrated when I don't get enough sleep at night and I get bent out of shape when plans I have for the day or week get interrupted by distractions. "Self" at the expense of another is still a very real, very stern master and while it demands my service, it also delights in beating me with guilt. 

This is why the realization of Christ in me as my true identity is so very crucial. Without understanding first that I am a daughter to the one whose nature is like Jesus, then I can be easily tricked into thinking that my selfish impulses are the true me, and then I lose all hope of escape. But Jesus' first word of instruction to disciples are to come and rest. As we take his yoke (teaching) upon us and learn from him, he assures us that he is gentle and humble in heart. If he is infinitely patient, then we can be patient with ourselves as we learn this new way of life and discover the abundance in loving and serving another, even if we do so in baby steps. He is giving us a tutorial of who we really are and invites us to follow him as he shows us the ultimate beauty of the human race. 

I'm certain that when Paul first awakened to sonship that he had no idea how much love would eventually come awake in him that would cause him to subject himself to "imprisonments, beaten times without number, often in danger of death. Five times…received from the Jews thirty-nine lashes. Three times…beaten with rods, once…stoned, three times…shipwrecked, a night and a day…spent in the deep..have been on frequent journeys, in dangers from rivers, dangers from robbers, dangers from [his] countrymen, dangers from the Gentiles, dangers in the city, dangers in the wilderness, dangers on the sea, dangers among false brethren; …in labor and hardship, through many sleepless nights, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure…" And in his letter to the Philippians in chapter 3, we hear his heart expressed in wanting to continue on to eventually win the prize of martyrdom! And not for the sake of boasting or becoming some heroic icon, but for the simple sake of identifying with Jesus in this most incredible, freeing, selfless love. To know what it is to love another that much! That is the prize! Not some mansion in the sky that is bigger than everyone else's. I find this so incredibly beautiful. The way in which he learned to love as a result of knowing his origin in Christ leaves me just breathless. And it gives me such hope that I may learn to love in such a way. Seriously, I dream about it. Everyday I find myself asking Jesus to teach me, to teach me in some small way to be a disciple today.

I am not expressing this as a point of boasting over such a pious dream, but simply to share and invite you into my awe of Jesus and those who have truly dared to follow him and my desire to grow up into this love. 

We're all in this together. If we can learn anything from our Lord today, this very moment, let it be these two things: Jesus calls us to be and make disciples…not rabbis. We are free to keep our "Student Status" indefinitely. So learn on! And also, humanity is beautiful and is worth our labor in love :-)