My Song

We have the inevitable challenge of DNA that pulls us to selfishness, opinions that we thrust into the soil as stakes, inclinations and preferences that tug us one way or another.  And, we have the potential of mind and spirit and heart to do heroic things and give ourselves to the well-being of others.  Which will be the prominent feature lived out today?  What kind of song will come from my life?  I get to choose.

The Reach

I am grateful for the biblical account of the hemorrhaging woman who reached through the crowd to touch the edge of Jesus’ robe.   This ungraspable God whom she went for, even though the news hadn’t been good elsewhere, her money was spent, and so was her body.  But something in her spirit wasn’t ready to give up.  Maybe it had waffled in hopelessness over the last twelve years, but something flickered alive again as news came that He was nearing the town.  She’d go take a look.  And when she did, somewhere inside her that bit of hope flamed up into courage and she’d pressed in.  She’d reach for Him.  And oh, dear Lord, she’d touched God. 

Whatever your limitations and need are today, He is the God who comes near.  Keep reaching.    

The Un-god-like for the Ungodly

How many of the garden variety gods that you could pick up at your neighborhood establishments would tolerate our most horrendous moments?  The god of “keeping up with the Jones’s” always asks that we step it up a notch, look good, buy more in-style products, and wear them or drive them well. The gods of perfectionism certainly don’t put up with nonsense.  It’s not their way.  They are harsh ones who tend to carry whips and try to get them into our hands for self-flagellation.   We can’t handle their verdicts or the knowledge of our own guilt, so the gods of “comfortableness” usually win and we trot off to ease our guilt with one of a plethora of self-satisfying potions or people.

But really, we know when we are crossing lines.  We feel the bristles of our own actions, or at least we used to if we haven’t practiced denial for too long.  It is so easy to brush aside that nudge of conviction and begin to insulate and defend ourselves.  

The thing is that there is a moral code.  For all we’ve tried to embrace as another norm for life, the cry for justice is only one tiny situation away if someone wrongs us.  (And that’s enough to prove the point.) We know when wrong has been done—if it’s the other guy who has done it and we don’t have any difficulty shifting to defending ourselves, our rights, our feelings.  The list is long and we’ve been trained well to get to the courtroom asap.

If we have done the deed however, we often can only see through the lens of mercy, tolerance, and pressing the point that the other guy give us a break.  “My intentions were good, for heaven’s sake!” We hide our guilt behind so many layers.  “I’m only human,” we say, and expect forgiveness we’ve not sought, before repentance we’ve not walked out, or the efforts of repair we’ve not worked at. 

So how surprised should we be that a God who has always kept His word, not only allows us into His company, not only invites us to run into His arms, the mess that we are, who not only is more than willing to wipe our bloody hands and wrap us in His own fine garb, would go far beyond anyone’s expectations, and

COME TO FIX OUR MOST INTERNAL DAMAGE HIMSELF? 

He did all the blood and sweat and tears that would have rightly been our responsibility to do.  It was a scandalous, a very UN-godlike thing to do.

I look at what this precious Messiah has done on our behalf.  I envision the Father who gave His best to allow it.  It is unconceivable that He would send His own Son to do our dirty work, when we so comfortably spit in His face.  I am appalled at how easy it is for me to brush Him off and do what I prefer.  Perhaps that is why it would take an immaculate conception to convince us

It is more than clear that I would not conceive of such a plan, but He could.  And did.  He not only saw it in theory but actually lived out the idea to its violent and effective end. It was such an ungodly thing to do that I am persuaded that it could of only been thought up by a God who loves.  It’s pretty unbelievable otherwise, which is apparently why so many see it as such.   But it convinces me that He is the real deal.  The God of whom prophecy after prophecy was written and spoken.  The God who would be so far from the shape of our expectations that He is easy to miss, and harder to follow.  The God who modeled such a lifestyle that it takes all our yielding to get in the streams of water that give life because our own pride is so damned thick, and we don’t want to admit that we needed such extreme measures of help.  It took the life of GOD to save me?  Really?  I am tempted to run back behind the fig leaves instead of acknowledging that much nakedness. 

But here we are, invited to step ankle deep first, then to feel the consuming waters of our baptism, and dive in and begin to swim. And all He asks of us is to receive the help He’s offering and swim.  It’s mind-blowing.  We should give it a try.

All In

She went and got the alabaster jar.  There wasn’t a tug-of-war going on in her heart over this, but then, it seems that it was the mindset that went along with the name.  Whether she was His mother, Martha’s sister, or the one from Magdala, if your name was Mary, you seemed to be an  “all in” kind of woman.  And so when her spirit nudged her to go and fetch that jar, there wasn’t a moment’s hesitation.   It was to be used, and it was to be used now. 

The others wouldn’t understand, and maybe she didn’t either really, but that was rarely a consideration for her actions.  Little did she know that she was portraying a stunning parallel to the events that would be unfolding in just a few short hours. 

Something of great cost was broken and poured out for its purpose and in its time.  First the precious ointment that smelled of the aroma of both beauty and burial, and then Jesus Himself, the aroma of the most beautiful of earthly sacrifices that would ever fill the nostrils of Heaven. 

Be offered, be spent, be poured out.  It seems to be a mark of the Kingdom. 

How we think, how we serve, how we live will likely have this resemblance once we’ve been adopted in and are moving in the same dance of the Spirit that wafted those days into being.  Those holy winds seem to fill the sails of obedience and trust as we raise them up to be moved for His work. 

Go where He calls you.  Hoist the sails of trust today.  The cost will never outweigh the benefit of what He will do, even if you are only asked to give Him a couple of fish and a few loaves.  He will determine what He is asking of you, and He will give you the means to do it.  All you have to do is decide if you are an “all in” kind of person. 

Undone

I too often hope to add on the robes of righteousness over my own comfortable clothing, which leads to being bulky and over bundled in the extra layers.  I was reminded this morning of the importance of the continual stripping down of my own perspectives and priorities, trying to be able to know His and to catch the subtle breezes of the Spirit moving against skin that would shift my day one way or another as He moves. 

The option is that I put Him in the position to come as an earthquake or gale force wind before I will pay attention.

Eyes Open

One of the most important things we can do is observe closely and, without jumping to conclusions too quickly, to watch the effects of what is going on.  Is the situation bringing health and wholeness as its ripples go out?   We are supposed to be people who discern well and respond to our culture. When we weigh in rightly, it will bring both justice and care into our community.  

One of Us

It might have been easier for the Old Testament folks who believed in a God who was huge and over and external and distant.  He was “out there” somewhere, enough removed to enable us to ignore Him most of the time if we chose.  Never mind that the gap was caused by the first couple of humans stepping away with the fruit in the Garden and then tucking themselves behind trees and sewn leaves.  It seems that most of us have been trying to hide ever since those few innocent walking-together days at the very beginning of mankind’s story.   There were a few brave souls who persisted to chase Him down, but Abraham and Joseph and Moses and David and Daniel were rarities, and even they didn’t get it right all the time. 

God had shown up as the years went along in the non-human shape of pillars of fire or pillars of clouds and sent His messages in rainbows, writing on the wall, and through His prophets.  He was clearly not like us.  And our response was to tremble in our sandals, turn to Him and repent one moment, and build our golden calves the next.  The human dance with God is as complex as it gets.

Then Jesus came.  And we’ve been muddled by it ever since. 

He draped Himself in flesh and blood. He lived out the human potential every day of His life, except for those last few when He was doing the God-part of His mission that we couldn’t possibly do for ourselves.

He confused us further by His love language and gestures that were sometimes the balm-and-healing kind when things can be nurtures to wholeness, and other times were the surgical kind when things need to be removed with a sharp scalpel to accomplish wholeness. 

It is not an easy thing to wrap our heads around a God who looks like us.  Those who saw Him face-to-face were still not likely to recognize Him.  And it brought holiness a little too close for comfort, because now, though most couldn’t recognize the God who stood before them, the inclinations of our own hearts was crystal clear. That is what happens when you brush up against God.  And once we know the truth about ourselves, the responsibility is ours to respond to.  It’s a lot easier to keep God at a distance than to go through all that confession and repentance and sanctification stuff.  But then we are kind of back where we started, aren’t we, …people who are in great need and looking for an answer.

Jesus took things one step further by leaving earth so we could have the Spirit actually move right into our beings.  Now everywhere we go and everything we do, we are taking Him with us as a guest to the events.  It’s a sobering thought.

His love is stunning, His grace astounding.  He is still hanging Himself out there for us to consider.  But He is as willing as ever to let us decide what to do with Him.   He’s apparently still as open to our hurled stones and crucifixions as He is to our love.  Only a God-Man could see our frailties and still give us so much room.   Only a patient God would let us have that kind of time.  Only a God who wanted to share love would create beings with free will instead of making them into tiny slaves.   Some think He is stern and unjust and far too inactive, but only a relational God would take the risk of denial and curses and such damage as is done on earth, for the chance of someone’s affection returned.  That He ever gave us the opportunity at all is crazy wild.  That He is still giving us the chance to respond, in light of the messes we make, is unbelievable.  It will take a tiny mustard seed of faith to get us on our way to receive the gift.