Kids kids

It was about 1994. My two children, barely aged 5 and 2, were running around the church sanctuary as the worship team was practicing the songs. I let them run because nobody else was there yet for the service, but as people started to file in, I began to tighten the reins.

"People are coming in," I told them. "Time to stop running and play quietly."

They listened - for as long as small children's attention span lasts. Especially when one of them has undiagnosed ADHD. 

So they started making noises and playing under the seat. Their giggles mingled with thumps their feet made on the underside of the pew as they lay on the floor. Occasionally one of them would run around and I would have to go and catch the offending one (usually the youngest) and cart them back. 

I was getting more and more frustrated as more and more adults turned toward me and glared.

Free Image courtesy of chriswolf at Pixabay.com

One of the greeters at the entryway was a large, jovial man named Blair.  He watched the kids and saw my frustration. As I was carting my toddler back for the fourth time (it felt like the tenth), Blair touched my arm. I stopped, still holding the child under my arm like a football. By this time, the oldest was coming closer to investigate.

Blair smiled at me. "I'm going to tell you something that my kids' Ukranian grandmother said to me when our children were their age," he announced, jerking his head toward my children. He looked me straight in the eye and said slowly, "Kids kids."

I stared back at him quizzically, confused by his statement. "Kids kids?" I queried. 

He chuckled. "She didn't speak English all that well. What she meant was that children are going to be children no matter where they are. And they are children for such a short time. So let them be children." 

He grinned as I slowly grasped his meaning. He was encouraging me as a mother - saying that it wasn't so horrible of me to let my kids play - because after all, they were children! To let them be children was the best gift I could give them.

That statement helped form my (and our) parenting decisions from that time onward. If they wanted to play at church, I'd take them into the foyer (or outside if I could) and let them play themselves out, rather than subject a teacher to them fidgeting and their excess of energy. 

If they wanted to go into Cubs instead of Brownies, into Cubs they went - and excelled! The oldest wanted to go into Scouts - so we supported her when the time came. And when she decided on her own that it wasn't for her, we supported that too. 

We encouraged each of them to plunge into whatever they wanted and we didn't force them into activities they had no interest in. As a result, they decided to take swimming classes together - something their mom had never had the courage to do! The oldest was in her junior high school band for a little over three years, learned to play the flute, and dropped out of senior high school band when she got a "creepy teacher" (who eventually was discovered to be too "friendly" toward some of his girl pupils...) and the youngest discovered she had a gift (among the other gifts she had) for using her hands. She developed an interest in carpentry and welding before she passed away in 2013 in a car crash. 

Each person has unique gifts and fills a special place in the world that only they can fill. And it all came into focus for me that day when a man named Blair took the time to encourage a young, harried mother. 

He also had another saying, which he said quite often: "It's nice to be nice."  And he lived by it.  Thank you, Blair. Thank you.

 

One Bad Apple

I was talking with my brother about a situation that had recently troubled me regarding the actions of one individual, and how I was tempted to walk away from all members of that group based on that individual's actions. I had recently realized how that was an overreaction on my part. In talking about it with my brother, I inadvertently quoted a song by either the Jackson 5 or the Osmonds (depending on who you're talking to) called "One Bad Apple." I said, "One bad apple don't spoil the whole bunch." 

He responded by saying, "Yeah, as long as you don't let it sit there. Throw that thing away!"   

I nodded, making myself a promise to reflect some more on what was essentially an important life lesson: remove the toxic thing from your life so that you don't ruin your enjoyment of the rest of your life. Like when Jesus said, "if your eye offend you, pluck it out."  I don't think He was talking about self-mutilation, but about closing the door on something that was not healthy for you. 

Free image by Jill Wellington from Pixabay

But also, just because one person did something that hurt you, don't assume that everyone who seems similar will be dangerous to you. That's living life in fear and allowing that one person to poison your future. Don't allow that to happen. Learn the lesson you were meant to learn from that experience, and after that, throw the rest away. Remember that even a spoiled apple has unspoiled seeds, that good things can come from bad events. It doesn't mean you go looking for the bad, or that you embrace that person again, but that you know that God is looking after you, lovingly caring for you. In remembering that, you can cast your cares and concerns onto Him and trust that He will be there, loving you, working everything together to make you more like Him (Romans 8:28-29). 

That was the 'sermon' that I preached to myself. It helped me become more willing to look for the good in things, and to not go to that place of viewing myself as a victim. Rather, I needed (and still need more and more) to trust myself to the care of God, to His grace and faithfulness, to know that He will allow into my life only that which will make me a better person. 

Finally, without belabouring the point, I needed to learn that there are a lot more good apples in my life than there are bad ones. I'm determined to keep it that way. :)

A New Creation

"If anyone is in Christ, they are a new creation.
The old has passed; the new has come."- 2 Cor 5:17

"People I talk to keep pressuring me to go to church," he explained. "I'm not so sure I'm ready to go. My reputation around here is not good, and I just know there will be those people who will sit back and wonder who I think I am, coming in there and testifying..."

"Well, you'd get that anywhere you went. You know that."

"I know," he sighed. "But I just need to spend some time with Father God so that I can be strong enough to not care what other people think of me." 

I nodded. "You take all the time you need. The most important relationship right now (and for that matter, always) is your relationship with God. And church," I added, "might be one way to enhance that. However, only when you're ready."

He quirked an eyebrow. "But I thought we weren't to forsake the assembling - - - "

I smiled. "What do you think this is -- right here, right now? Huh? We've been communicating with each other, sharing the things of the Lord, talking about our struggles, and caring for one another. I don't know what anyone else might call it, but I'd call it church!!"

His eyes slowly widened, and a smile began to shine from his eyes like a sunrise. "Didn't our hearts burn within us, when He was with us along the road...?  Wasn't that the two disciples on the road to Emmaeus?"

Photo by David Alberto Carmona Coto from Pexels

"Sure was." I grinned. "Wherever two or more are gathered in My Name, there am I in the midst." 

His shoulders relaxed.

"You'll get to the place where it won't matter what people think. So just know that any pressure you feel comes from other people's expectations, not necessarily from God. Of course, they might mean well, but you also don't answer to them. I think you're pretty good at recognizing when you are being manipulated rather than when God is telling you something. When you're ready, you'll know that it's time to make that step to be with others. But until then ... here we are. And that's okay."

His eyes glistened. He got it.

I've had this same conversation with more than one person, but I've picked this one because it stood out for me. I've had to have chats like this one because so many people are "church-hurt" and they need a slow reintroduction to the people who say that they belong to Jesus but who take particular delight in pointing out areas of improvement (thus trying to do the Holy Spirit's work for Him, but don't get me going.) And by "improvement" I mean areas where the person's life doesn't look like theirs: from actions to appearance. Same words, same hair-cut, same causes, same version of the Bible, same, same, same.  

It doesn't matter. Our Father is a God of endless variety, and it would be pretty boring if all of us looked, smelled, and acted like the same human.

What matters most is that this person, no matter the past, no matter the number of times he or she has said things have changed, no matter your or my opinion of things, is a new creation in Christ. The old has passed; the new has come. Who are we to sit in judgment? Who are we to hold that person's past against them? Who are WE to determine how fast and in what areas he or she should grow? Do WE know the inner workings of their heart?  What God has started in that person, He will finish. Whether they agree with us or not on everything, it isn't our job to make them into perfect replicas of ourselves. 

It's God's work to grow them up in Him, in a way that will bring out their unique qualities. He is the gardener, the caretaker, the great shepherd. He knows best what will draw each person into an intimate and vibrant relationship with Him. He's been doing it for far longer and is much better at it than you or I could be. Let's set aside our preconceived notions of how spiritual growth looks, and trust God to nurture His own creation how and when He sees fit. 

Besides, maybe they can someday speak life into someone who can relate to the way they look or talk. For example, their appearance - whether they have tattoos, dreadlocks, piercings, or whatever - might put us off, but that doesn't mean God can't use them to reach people who would never be drawn to us. And isn't that the main reason why we're all still here in the first place?

Anything but this...

When the children were young and we were so very deep in debt there was no way out, when we were forced to one inescapable conclusion - that we had to declare bankruptcy - I groaned inside. "Oh God. Anything but this."

But of course it happened. And through it, I learned about mercy, and grace, and forgiveness, and provision. I learned which people were our friends and which ones didn't want to have anything to do with us because they judged us. I learned how God can take the most awful experiences of our lives and teach us lessons we need to learn: how to live within our means, for one thing. 

When the government came after my husband and took him to court - and we had no money to fight them - when they broke every promise they made to us when he stood trial, I closed my eyes and said, "God. Anything but this." But it happened anyway... and through that experience we learned the pain of being falsely accused with no way to fight back, and we learned who stayed, and who judged. We also learned even more about God's provision, and were given even more opportunities to forgive.

When our child was injured and had to undergo surgery - when she faced unjust treatment by one health care professional after another - when she was declared disabled ... I dropped my head to my chest and sighed, "Oh God. Anything but this." But through that experience we learned how to ask for what we needed, how to accept help, and how to see light even in the midst of darkness. 

When our other child rebelled, hung out with people who were in trouble with the law, stole for them, stole from us, and finally wanted to leave the province, I ached inside ... "God. Please. Anything but this." I was so scared, felt so rejected. But ... she left anyway. And through her leaving, I realized that the hedge of protection that I had placed around her no longer protected her because she had chosen to leave. At the same time, and probably BECAUSE of that loss of protection, I learned how to trust Him for all things, how she needed to be away from that protection to see how bad things were "out there".  I learned how to let go more and more of my need to control the outcome, and how to develop a relationship with her that grew more and more precious in such a short time. And I knew the joy of seeing that same child embrace a vibrant relationship with God - something she never would have done had she stayed. 

When she got evicted and had to live in her car, when she fought fatigue, sickness, hunger and cold for days and days ... making her so exhausted she fell asleep at the wheel and was killed ... I cried in anguish, "Oh GOD! Anything but this!!"  But of course, through the searing pain of loss, I learned the sweetness of God's presence, the wonder of true friendship, the amazing impact of her legacy the more I told her story, and the empathy that allowed me to be there for someone else who lost her own daughter not long after that. 

More and more I am convinced that God uses the darkest, most terrifying experiences of our lives to show us His great love and to make us stronger for whatever is around the bend. I have learned this through the things I have gone through, usually kicking and screaming like some petulant child. He is patient with me. I am learning.

Photo "Doctor In Surgery" by
taoty at www.freedigitalphotos.net

When my brother got cancer, and needed to have surgery, I knew by then that God was going to work something amazing out of it all. And He did. The surgeon got all the cancer. There is none left. Sure, there are physical problems still, and it is hard, but God has this under control. 

When my mom got dementia and went wandering one day last month, and had to be put into protective custody in the hospital, part of me went to that place of fear: "Dear God, no. Not this." But this time, I didn't stay there. I started to see how God was working even in the midst of this horrible thing in our family. I can see God's love in the situation even while she waits, still wanting to go home, to be placed into a nursing home - the last place she ever wanted to go. In spite of all of that, I have confidence that He will make a way in that wilderness just like He did with all the other barren places I have mentioned, and way more besides. 

He does this because He loves us. He LOVES US. Not because there is anything we've done or not done - but because He WANTS to. That's it. No more than that. 

And I am sure that He will amaze us all. And that He will delight in His lavish love when our jaws drop at how good He is to us.

So ... when people ask me to pray for God to take something away from them that is hurting them, or hurting someone they love, I will pray - of course! But I pray for God to do the same kinds of miracles that He did for me and for us, ... for them.  I pray that He shows them His presence not only with them, but IN the whole situation. I pray that they have peace, that they will learn the joys of letting go of their situations and clinging to Him. That they will realize that He is right there with them.  

I have seen too many miracles happen "in the midst" to believe less than that. 

The most important kind of healing

More and more in the news, it is unmistakable - terrorist activity in Paris, police violence in Ferguson and elsewhere, school shootings all over the place, RCMP officers being killed by someone who called 911 just to get them to come so they would be shot, a rapist whose crime was witnessed by two other people getting handed a slap on the wrist, and most recently, some gunman entering a bar in Orlando and shooting over a hundred people, at least fifty of which died - and the victims' only "crime" was that they were gay. 

Whenever something tragic (like these things and more) happens, social media and news coverage around the world express outpourings of concern, even outrage, and a lot of folks request prayer for the place where it happened, and for the families of those most affected. I lost count of the Pray for Paris posters I saw on Facebook after the Paris attacks.  This sort of reaction is what I have come to expect.  And yes, it is needed; people need to feel as though they are doing something significant to help people they have never met in response to such events.  And yes, it is perfectly fitting to pray for a community that is reeling from some atrocity. 

But let's not stop there. 

Let's also pray for an end to the attitudes and beliefs that spawn such heinous acts. Let's pray to become part of the solution by refusing to succumb to the bigotry that some people still hold in their hearts.  Let's resolve never to stand idly by and allow hate-talk to continue, or victim-blaming talk for that matter, or worse yet, participate in it. 

This is not about whether this or that lifestyle is good or bad, or whether this or that skin colour or gender or religion is better than the next one.  This is about how people like us perpetuate an atmosphere that gives license to violent people to think they will have support for doing the horrific things that they do.  Innocent bystanders are we - but are we?  As long as we ascribe right and wrong to who people are - regardless of gender, race, sexuality, religion or size - different from us, we give silent consent to the people who use violence against their own kind: humankind.  People are fragile - that which makes us human is tenuous at best. We can be self-righteous all we want, but it will not stop the reckless onslaught of hatred.  It might make us feel better - but it also makes the perpetrators feel more at ease about wreaking havoc in our world.

Jesus is not like that, folks.  Jesus accepted people who were different from Him - even healed them.  Take, for example, the man of whom Jesus said that He had not seen such great faith in Israel.  The man wanted Jesus to heal his young male love-slave, folks.  And Jesus did.  No judgment of lifestyle, no little "digs" to drive home His point.  Jesus' "point" was love. Pure and simple.  I'm just saying ... it is not up to US to judge anyone.  

Photo "Rows Of Butterfly Cocoons"
courtesy of xura at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

And judging people can lead to disastrous consequences.  Surely Jesus' own death proves this.  A bunch of well-meaning religious people got some self-righteous ideas about what Messiah should look like, and they decided that Jesus was wrong - and not only wrong, but subversive - and they did the unthinkable, and thought themselves to be doing the right thing.  There is no difference - the process is the same.  People can justify their own actions with whatever twisted ideal they might hold to - but the fact remains that violence in and of itself is rarely if ever justifiable.  

The healing needs to start on the inside.  And it needs to happen to those who are hurting so very much because of these disasters ... but it needs to happen as well in our own hearts.  Until we begin to comprehend the unconditional love of God not just to us but to ALL people, and can therefore have compassion without judgment, it is we who need to be healed. 

Now. And the sooner, the better.

Escaping the siege

I've been trying to figure out what these past few months has felt like.  In late summer/ early fall, we decided as a couple (after much agonizing) to leave the church.  Not just OUR church, THE church... by which I mean the organized, religious system that calls itself the church.  

I can't begin to describe the growing dissatisfaction that we had felt the last few years while we ran faster and faster on the hamster wheel of performance, always wondering if we were doing enough, feeling guilty and blaming ourselves if our prayers were unanswered, and frankly, feeling embarrassed to invite people in - where we knew they would find what we had - another, deeper level of rejection - where hurting people thrive on pushing hurting people away.  

It's equally as difficult to describe the pulling that we felt toward a deeper and more intimate relationship with Jesus - a call to simplicity, to receiving His love and loving Him back. More and more we saw the futility of our involvement in a system that values nickels and noses, attempts to control its members through shame, fear, and judgment.  Rather than build bridges to those who embrace lifestyles or choices with which they do not agree, this system builds walls to keep them out.

As I pondered this last night, a little story from 2nd Kings 7 came to my mind.  There were these guys living on the outskirts of town - walled in and afraid to leave because "the enemy" was out there. Or so they believed.  The town was under siege.  Food was scarce and deadly expensive; they had even taken to eating bird poop and charging money for it!!  People were getting desperate, even to the point of devouring their children... it was horrible.  Anyway, these guys near the gate were outcasts - they were lepers.  They were not welcome in society, but they could not leave the town because after all, they were members of the community. 

Finally, these guys got fed up (pun not intended).  They figured, "Well, the enemy camp is out there - and it most likely has food.  If we go and surrender to the enemy, they might accept our surrender, and let us live (at least we would get something to eat) and if they kill us, we would have died a lot more slowly inside the wall."  So ... they left ... hearts in their throats.  Desperate.  It was a desperate move made by desperate people.

Meanwhile, the Arameans outside (many hundreds of them) were literally hearing things - and got it into their heads that the king whose town they were besieging had hired people to come and attack them.  So they split!!  Enter the lepers .... who found meals half-eaten, left in haste ... and they could not believe their fortune!  They ate, found money and put that away, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves!  

Photo "Buffet Set On Heated Trays Ready To Eat"
courtesy of jk1995 at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Eventually, they looked at one another and said, "Hey, let's tell someone about this!  This is such good news that we cannot help sharing it - the enemy is gone, and our neighbours can get out of their prison!"  So that is what they did.  By the end of the day, prices were back down to normal, and there was not one hungry person in town. 

I think the reason that I thought about those guys inside the wall, the ones who were so up against it that they left to take their chances outside, was because that was - and is - (in some ways) our story.  There was no sustenance for us in all that protection and so-called safety.  We were starving to death.  We saw a few atrocities, people turning on each other, but most of the time it was just a slow, lingering death of the soul: adherents trying to keep people from straying, unhappy and/or self-righteous people trapped by their own acceptance of things the way they were, with no desire strong enough for something more, no desire that would cause them to question their reason for being there and doing what they were doing.  So many people around us were living in fear, in a siege mentality (us versus them) and distrusting anything against which they had been indoctrinated, hell-bent (yes, that was intentional) on obeying the rules and excluding those who didn't. 

And it was like that everywhere. We had attended dozens of assemblies and it was the same wherever we went.  We had tried to fit in, but in every single place, we were eventually relegated to the role of the leper.  Either because we were not of a certain social or economic stratum, or because we were introverted, or because we were not linked with the founding families of the particular assembly we were in, we were slowly but surely kept at arm's length, treated like ... like lepers.  

But our isolation only gave us more time to think, to ponder how, in a community that stated that it followed the teachings of the One who is Love personified, the behaviour of its members was anything but - and we were as affected by this phenomenon as the next member. There were occasional bright spots, surprising us with kindness and caring (but only when someone died). Or there were brief periods associated with the arrival and ministry of people who seemed to hear from God, and for a time, we thought things might change.  But inevitably, they went on to greener pastures, and we were back to the same old thing. We wondered if things would ever change for good.

We compared the characteristics of this organization to those of the organism that the church was designed to be (as described in the book of Acts) and we could find nothing in common between the two!  "Is this all there is?" we asked ourselves.  "Is this the abundant life?"  If it was - we surely wanted a refund.... and if it wasn't ... then what were we doing? was there any way out?  Time and time again we tried to conform ourselves to what was expected, rededicate ourselves, and influence the system from the inside out.  And over and over again, we depleted our limited emotional resources; every time, we died a little more.  

Frustration grew.  Countless times we returned from church-based events stressed, exhausted, and - well - angry.   Sermons (both from the pulpit and in unofficial settings) from various people were little more than steam blown off by those frustrated with the people who sat back and never tried, so all we heard was, "You're not doing enough, not believing enough, not giving enough, not praying enough, not holy enough, not evangelical (or missional, or social justice-minded) enough ..." and the list went on.  I remember turning to my husband at one point near the end of that part of our journey and saying, "If I want to be yelled at and taken on a guilt trip, I'll go visit my mother."   

And the siege mentality!  That idea that the world is a horrible place and the people in it are against us permeated everything.  We were told that certain people with certain lifestyles or beliefs were not to be trusted, or at best they were deluded and needed to be converted.  Instead of reaching out to people, we were encouraged to lobby local school boards, write to politicians, sign petitions, support groups known for heavy-handed prejudicial treatment of certain minority groups, and decry perfectly legal medical procedures (if horrific to our sensibilities and beliefs) and vehemently condemn those who chose to undergo them.  In doing so, we were unwittingly contributing to their mistrust of the church and ensuring that they would not come to us for help when they needed a listening ear.  

Photo "Ruined House"
courtesy of sattva at
www.freedigitaphotos.net

All around us, the walls were crumbling.  More and more, we were seeing how our participation in this organization was counter-productive to the values of love, acceptance, and gentleness that Jesus taught and that we espoused.  We got closer and closer to the gate of this impoverished and starving community.  "Just hang on. It will get better," people said.  "Revival is just around the corner." We bought it for years ... until we didn't. 

And when we made the break, it had to be clean.  We left; we did not look back. We left our assembly, and we left the system. 

And you know, we expected to feel guilty... or afraid, or nervous for what we would do or where God would lead us next (if anywhere)... but all we felt was relief.  There was relief.  As the weeks passed, we remarked how much less stressful Sundays were, how much we enjoyed being able to rest instead of tearing our hair out and banging our heads against a brick wall for five hours or more almost every weekend. Our relationship with our daughter deepened. God set up contacts with people in His timing, and we had such precious times with them, times that we never would have had if we hadn't ventured outside the gate.   

There are times that we wonder if we did the right thing.  There are times when we miss frequent contact with people, wonderful people.  But we know that we were having our souls sucked out of us by the system.  Outside, we may not have found any bountiful banquet yet, but we can detect the faint odor of food, and we know we'll eventually find it.  And you can bet that as soon as we do, it will be way too good to keep to ourselves.

The Key Of Knowledge - Part II

A couple of weeks ago, I did a post on the "key of knowledge" that Jesus accused the Pharisees of stealing from the people. (To read that post, click here.)

I talked about how the knowledge that Jesus meant was an intimate knowing, not just a friendship but a lover's relationship, human beings in a love relationship with the Eternal One. 

This means that what the Pharisees had done was to reduce a love relationship down to a list of dos and don'ts, of shoulds, ought-tos, and supposed-tos. (Hm, sounds like what happens in most church organizations.) 

That's what humans do. When Moses first went up Mount Sinai to spend time with God, God also invited the people up to spend time with Him ...but they refused. They'd been steeped in 430 years of ancient Egyptian teaching that talked about how people had to appease the gods or they would be found lacking when it was time for the judgment, when their souls would be weighed in the balance. They were afraid. They refused to get close to (their own image of a) god who would strike them down at the least infraction. They didn't understand this God who wanted to know them; all they saw was a deity who had already struck the Egyptians down, decimated the oppressor's army and supernaturally delivered them ... when would this deity suddenly turn on them? No, they had to remain distant. If Moses wanted to talk to God, he was welcome to that; not these little grey ducks. 

It was the same lie that Eve believed in the Garden. "God's holding out on you. He can't be trusted." 

So they stayed away. "You spend time with God, Moses. We'll look to you and YOU can tell us what He wants." 

Hmmmm.  

What did He want?  Relationship. Intimate relationship.

What did they settle for?  RULES.  Distance. A go-between. Moses was (to them) the mediator - the one who would tell them what God wanted. And where Moses is read (in other words, the Torah, the Law) ... that is what people see - the rules. And those who read the New Testament from a standpoint of rules, from a mind-set of do and don't, that's all they're going to see: a set of rules, steps to climb up the staircase to appease a deity because if they don't ... they won't end up in Heaven, but in the other place.

But those rules were only put there to show us that we are incapable of keeping them. ALL of us are incapable of keeping the whole law. It's not ABOUT keeping the law. It never was. 

There have been some down through history that "got" it. King David got it.... and he was far from perfect. But he understood that the rules weren't what it was about - if you read the Psalms you see a man who was in a relationship with God - a man "after God's own heart." Yet he messed up royally! What does that tell us?  It tells us that living isn't about obeying the rules, or judging people based on the rules.

What does God STILL want? What He's ALWAYS wanted:  intimate relationship with each of us. 

Now ... here's the mind-blowing thing. Jesus - according to the plan set out before the universe existed - entered the corporeal (physical) universe, the one that He made, the one that He spoke into existence. He came into this world to show us that God who loved Him intimately, loves US intimately. He came to prove it to us. He came to open our eyes, to make a proposal to us. 

"LET ME LOVE YOU." 

Photo "Affectionate Man Kissing His Lady"
courtesy of imagerymajestic at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

 This does NOT mean, "He doesn't love us until we let Him." He has loved us and will love us forever, in eternity past and in eternity future, in the eternal now, each of us individually, every person who has ever existed or who ever will exist. No, this is not saying that our choice drives His love or His life in us. This is saying that whether we want Him to or not, He loves us. 

Those of us whom His Spirit has brought to Him have been healed permanently of our spiritual blindness so that we can SEE that He loves us; that is the only difference. He is one with us - in a much deeper way than two humans could ever become one. This is the kind of intimacy that He already has with us. We are one with Him. Christ in us, the hope of Glory. 

All of this means, dear ones, that we don't have to strive: we don't have to jump through hoops and repent/confess/renounce/sacrifice. We need not agonize and "push through" and "press in...." We don't have to operate in the "I'm no good" or "I don't deserve" or the "I'm so unworthy" ... none of it ... to be acceptable to Him. He's already crazy about us! He has already accepted us! He is already IN us!

He is the one who opens our eyes to that. It's why He came - to open our blinded eyes to the Light. 

What do we do with that? How do we respond to Him opening the eyes of the ones born blind (us)? 

It's so simple. 
WE LET HIM LOVE US. 
WE SAY THANK YOU. 
WE LOVE HIM BACK.
AND WE LET HIM KEEP LOVING US.

This, friends, is GOOD news!  This is liberating!! This is that easy yoke, the light burden, the joy unspeakable, the rivers of living water.  This is LIFE - not the death of fear and guilt and shame that I (and I suspect you too) lived in the middle of, for years and years in the organized religious system that all my life I called the church.  That was not the living organism of the church. That was cold and dead religion, composed of people's never-ending attempts to impress a cold, impersonal deity and judge each other while doing so.  This, this Love, on the other hand, is freedom, and mercy, and grace, and truly living. 

Any time we judge anyone else (and believe me, I've done more than my share!), we are not operating in that Love or in that Life, but in our own religious system of guilt and shame and fear and judgment. This is why there is so much unhappiness in believers, so much dissatisfaction with the organized church: we are operating in fear and guilt; these bring shame and judgment and torment. And death. They bring death - that same living death that the first couple knew after they'd eaten from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. 

Jesus came to prove to us that the Father loves us, so that we could have Life. 
Life. 

Not death, not judging who is right and who is wrong. Life. 
Not guilt, not shame. Life. 
Not bondage, not fear. Life. 

He IS the Life. He IS Love.
Let's let Him love us in a SO much deeper way than we've ever known. 
He has been waiting ... forever. 

Speak Lord

I feel, for the sake of those who might be alarmed or concerned, that I must preface this post by saying that the word pictures I am using below are metaphors, nothing more. This is a sort of spiritual allegory, not to be taken literally.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For months, even years I have been traveling to the edge of the precipice where I stand today. I hear that Voice - it calls me to something, I know not what. 

I have struggled to stay in the familiar, and every time I do, I am trampled upon, bruised, misunderstood, overlooked, and accused; there is always something that is not "good enough" or not "holy enough" in my life. The voices of those who condemn me are many. They join together in a cacophony. I cover my ears and try to hear that whisper that they drown out.  I try to tune out the shoulds and the musts, and listen to the Voice of the Galilean.

I hear no such condemnation from this Voice. It calls me - speaks softly and gently to me - and it is full of love, compassion, and acceptance. The One who ate with (and in eating with, He accepted totally) the tax-collector, the prostitute and the riff-raff of society does not condemn; He does not call for marches or placards or politics. He is quiet and lowly in heart. 

He calls me; it has been His Voice I have heard since the time I was very young and could almost hear the wind calling my name. It was those religious automatons who bound my hands and feet, those who gagged me and covered my eyes to "protect" me, led me astray in all of their self-righteous babble about duty and obligation, debts to pay that could never be paid, and "standing for righteousness."  

The Voice doesn't say those things. In those almost imperceptible whispers I hear encouragement, empathy, empowerment. Those whispers have called me to the edge of the cliff - that cliff I stayed so studiously away from, thinking it would lead to my downfall. I wanted to be safe - safe is good, right?  

Photo "Silhouette Of A Man On The Rock At Sunset"
courtesy of satit_srihin at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

No. No, not necessarily. Like Samuel hearing the Voice in the night, I have run to those who I thought could interpret it - only to find that it had been so long since they heard it themselves that they didn't recognize it. Finally, the old man Eli's words come back to me - on the third occasion he told Samuel to say, "Speak, Lord; I'm listening." What a novel idea. Don't wait for someone else to interpret it; just ask Him to speak ... since the message is for me and for me alone. He has something important to say.

Well .. here I am.  I'm at the edge of this cliff, somewhere I never in a hundred years thought I would be. I look over the edge and I see no safety net, no structure, nothing familiar - just empty space and that inner urging to listen. 

"I'm listening." 

Silence. just ... silence as the wind whistles, as the people as small as ants make their way, doing everyday things, going on about their lives as if nothing was happening. But something is. Something is. 

"Speak Lord."  Not a command one would give to a dog, but a plea from the heart. It's the kind of desperation Moses had when he said, "If You're not going with me, I'm not going anywhere."  Only in the Presence, in the shekinah, is there any kind of answer to that burning desire. 

"I'm scared." I've never done anything this radical before, and I've done some pretty radical things. I have no clue what's ahead. The view from the precipice is dizzying, unnerving. It is breathtakingly beautiful, but I have always been told that it is so dangerous to come here, away from them, away from the others whose collective voices drown out the One Voice while all the time they claim to speak for Him. I only want to hear His Voice now.

From the stillness that envelops me, I hear one very simple, very radical word. "Jump." 

Wha-at? I shout inside, That's crazy!  And I hear nothing but silence. 

And the wind. I hear the wind call my name as it did when I was a child. Can it really be that simple? to close my eyes and just feel His arms around me? To let Him love me? to believe that He really is THAT good? that He would catch me? 

And then I hear it again. 

"Jump."

The Key of Knowledge

I was reading in the Word trying to find something specific earlier today (isn't this how God sometimes grabs our attention? well, He does it to me sometimes), when I stumbled on a rather vitriolic passage in Luke where Jesus was lambasting the Pharisees and the 'lawyers' (i.e., the experts in Mosaic law). It was the climax of His diatribe against (or warning to) these people.

"Woe to you lawyers (* = teachers of the law)!  For you have taken away the key of knowledge; you yourselves did not enter, and you hindered those who were entering.”
  - Luke 11:59

Now, I've grown up in the organized church, and spent all of my life in that milieu. That expression, 'the key of knowledge' had always been preached to mean knowledge in the sense of accumulating knowledge about, or studying, or possibly moral wisdom. It's why we went to Sunday school, to learn 'about God.' It's why we were encouraged to memorize scriptures, to increase our knowledge, to know right from wrong and choose the right. It carries with it the feeling of following the rules in order to keep from being punished. 

But that is not what this word is talking about. I went to Strong's Concordance and discovered that this knowledge - the key to which the teachers of the law, the clergy of Jesus' day, had "taken away" - is translated from the Greek word gnosis or 'deeper or more perfect knowledge'... which is derived from another Greek root word  ginosko  ... common language for the ultimate act of intimacy within a marriage. 

Photo "Couple At Sunset"
courtesy of piyaphantawong at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Oh my. 

That brings a whole new meaning to this passage, doesn't it?  

Jesus was angry and so very saddened by how the religious teachers of His day didn't "get" the intended message of knowing God intimately, and not only did they not "get" it, they made it impossible for people to access that kind of information so that THEY could have any kind of relationship with God. 

Basically their lives sucked, and they wanted everyone else's lives to suck as much as theirs. And because they were in a position of leadership, and people looked to them for guidance, they succeeded in laying so much bondage on people, and making what should have been a free and beautiful relationship into a loveless, lifeless contract marked by a whole laundry list of dos and don'ts, with threats of punishment if they did not toe the line. 

I'm not pointing fingers.  The point here is not who is a Pharisee and who isn't. The point is not whether this or that pastor, this or that denomination is misguided at best.  No ... the point is that God wants to have a gloriously intimate, personal relationship with each of us. Jesus was all about that... because He knew that there was joy in it for us - and for Him. He knew that us living in fear was no way to live at all. He came to bring freedom so that people could actually BE FREE. 

And the key to that freedom is a growing intimacy with God. 

It isn't about whether we eat this or that, or drink this or that, or go here or there, or sing this or that, or say this or that. It is about allowing God into the deepest parts of us, those places nobody else is allowed to (or has a right to) go, letting Him express His delight in us, letting Him "know" us - in the most intimate way. Only in that deep knowledge, that total acceptance of His lavish love, that realization that He is for us and wants to pour out His love into and upon us, is there real peace and purpose and passion and power. That is true living. That is the moment-by-moment adventure.

That knowing (ginosko - or intimate knowing) is what Jesus was referring to when He said that in that 'day' of reckoning He would say (to those calling out "Lord, Lord...."), .... "I never knew you. Depart from Me..." (Mt 7:23)  He meant that two-becoming-one union, the kind that is only possible when we open up the most private parts of our selves to His love. He meant, in essence, "You never let Me intimately know you." 

What a sad indictment! How much we have missed!! How small and puny our conception of God has become because we (in our arrogant insistence upon our own unworthiness and fearing His vengeance) dare not entertain the thought of the exceeding greatness of His love and grace! That love is the starting place of the journey; that is the pinnacle.

We are already there, if we but knew (accepted, opened ourselves to) it. He has already made a place for us in His lap - His arms are open wide and that spot, that special spot on His shoulder is aching for us to nestle in there and hear His heart beat for - and with - ours. 

Can we not hear His call? It is sweet, sad, yearning. It echoes in our own hearts and resonates in our own longing for something "more."  Let's press in. 

I dare you. Let's open ourselves to Him. Let's let Him in.

The Sky is Falling

I saw something recently that made me do some thinking about an old fable I grew up with. What I saw doesn't matter, but the thinking I was doing started to turn into a blog post (as often happens) .... so here I am.

The tale of Chicken Little is the story of an alarmist young hen who one sunny day, got bopped on the head by a falling acorn and thought that the world was coming to an end: "The sky is falling! The sky is falling!" She told everyone she knew about it (Hmmm. Some people would call that "witnessing" - but I digress). Her alarm caused mass hysteria among all the fowl (duck, goose, turkey), and they all ended up being part of a smorgasbord menu for a fox who took advantage of their desire to go tell the king something they'd convinced themselves was something to be afraid of. 

Photo "Chestnut" courtesy of olovedog at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

This kind of thing happens all the time in denominations. Some perceptive (if unenlightened) person gets it into his or her head that such-and-such a belief is something to be focusing on. The word spreads like wildfire, and soon everyone is all in a dither about it, leaving us vulnerable to be the victims of deception - possibly even harming our spiritual lives in the process. We get our eyes off how the Son shines and gives everything life not only around us, but in us. We focus on the circumstances and base our belief on them instead of what we know to be true. We gad about and spread panic and havoc in our own lives and in the lives of others, over things that really just don't matter at all. 


And we put ourselves in danger. We add to what God says by creating rules and restrictions ... and then judge those who don't do the same. We feel threatened by someone who lives his or her life in liberty without feeling the need to toe the party line.  We judge that person: we like knowing what the rules are and that we're following them, so we limit our own freedom and aren't satisfied until everyone else is as uptight as we are. If they refuse to get uptight, we judge them because we feel threatened by a lack of structure, a lack of control. 

And control is key...  because we like to be in control, to have a say, to not feel at the mercy of something that is bigger and more generous and more powerful than we can imagine. We like to either put limits on it, or put requirements on ourselves to access it.

Such was the case with Eve (yes, Adam's wife.)  She wasn't aware of all the reasons God said not to eat of that fruit. She didn't think about how marvelous was His wonderful love toward her. She just knew the one rule of the Garden: don't eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Eating it would make her "die" - whatever that was - and that didn't sound good. So she felt that she had to add to that rule - and adding to it was her downfall. She figured that in order to not eat the fruit, it would be best not to touch it or to even go near the tree. Eventually she came to believe that even those things were forbidden and carried the same punishment. Along comes Foxy Loxy (the serpent) and says (in essence), "Look. I'm on the tree. I'm touching the fruit. Am I dead?" He planted that seed of doubt - and then came the clincher - "Maybe God's been lying to you all this time. Maybe He's holding out on you." It wasn't so much that Eve was convinced by the serpent; it was that she had allowed herself to get caught up in the trap of swallowing tradition as gospel, and made herself easy pickings for the deceiver.

It's no different today.  Just like the Pharisees of Jesus' day whom we all-too-quickly condemn, we add burdens and place restrictions on ourselves and on other believers... and even on unbelievers! I remember hearing one well-seasoned (pickled? stagnated?) believer express amusement at the zeal of a new convert, commenting (in an "isn't that cute" tone) "That's okay, this will pass." (Really?!)  Yet that same believer will be one of the first to sign a petition and/or carry placards when some politician tries to grant equality to all people (even the ones with whose lifestyles we don't agree) calling it an "attack on the sanctity of marriage."  Or object when there are too many "street people" in the church (whatever that means).  Or some such thing.

Seriously? 

I was brought up in the church from my infancy. And I've closely and seriously examined the teachings of Jesus ever since I was sixteen years old - nearly forty years ago now. Nowhere, and I mean NOWHERE, did He ever judge or condemn anyone who wasn't religious. Over and over again, He ate with and enjoyed the company of the dregs of society: tax-collectors, prostitutes, even non-Jews (Samaritans, Romans!) and never once did He condemn. He saved His scathing condemnation for those (like the Pharisees and Saducees) who used their religion like a weapon instead of a magnet, or for those who used their power to oppress (like Herod, and even then, only once!) instead of to protect the innocent. His teachings were more about living a quiet life in faith and love, rather than brandishing a spear and shield and tackling political and societal ills like some holier-than-thou Don Quixote. 

I've also examined our modern society at some length. We can say all we like about how it is broken and so forth, but it's pretty accepting of most types of people.  However, among the things it can't abide are dogmatism, hypocrisy and elitism - three things the church has historically been famous for, ever since 300 AD. It's one of the top criticisms that unbelievers have about the church. It's probably the main thing that keeps them away by the hundreds.

Photo "Sun In The Sky" by
graur razvan ionut at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

We're too busy yelling "The sky is falling!" in their faces ... and - unfortunately - in each other's faces as well. We run all over the place trying to get each other to be concerned and passionate over the same things we are, when God has clearly created each of us different from the other. And we burn ourselves out in the process of our search for sameness. 

We wear ourselves down and worry about keeping hold of things He's already bought and paid for. His yoke is easy and His burden is light - but you'd never know it to look at us. 

Maybe, just maybe, He allowed the acorn to fall from the tree, not to alarm us into trying to convince each other that we're right, or to warn us that we're doing something wrong, but so that we'd think to look up to the Giver of all things, realize that He is right here with us and loving us. Maybe we'd figure out that the Son is still shining, and just say "Thank You."

He LOVES me!!

It's an iconic picture of girlhood, standing in a field of flowers with a daisy in one hand, plucking off the petals one by one, saying, "He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not...." 

And that same girl, crestfallen (though briefly) when it turns out to be that "he loves me not." Undaunted, though, she picks another daisy and starts all over again. "He loves me, he loves me not..." 

At our breakfast conversation this morning, my husband and I were exploring that picture as a metaphor for what a lot of believers (including ourselves at times, possibly most of the time) think of when things happen in their lives. We base our perception of whether God loves us on the circumstances of our lives.

Let me illustrate. 

I get a new job. "He loves me."

The boss is a jerk. "He loves me not." 

I come home and see a beautiful sunset. "He loves me."

I get home to find that the dog got into the garbage and threw up all over the floor, and I get to clean up garbage AND vomit. "He loves me not. Grrr." 

My child gives me a card she made herself and tells me what a great Mom I am. "He loves me. I feel so blessed!"

That same child irritates the life out of me. Or has set her computer monitor on fire, leaving black smoke hanging in the air. "He loves me not. I'm such a failure." 

And we can treat our spiritual lives with that same sort of insecurity.
 

Photo "Girl With Daisy" by
Clare Bloomfield at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I pray, and God answers my prayer with an immediate, miraculous YES. "He loves me." 

I pray again, and things get worse - things look hopeless - or someone I pray for dies.  "He loves me not. I must not be trying hard enough. I have to try harder. Maybe I'll give more money to the church." (Word to the wise - any other motivation for giving than love ..... always backfires...)

I give more money to the church, and the car breaks down. (See? now I'm out the money I gave to the church PLUS I have this huge hunking bill...) "He loves me not. What in the world does He want, anyway?" 

I sense His presence in worship, or He heals me of some ailment. "Oh, how He loves me!!" 

Not all that much later, I can't seem to feel His presence, the heavens seem made of brass, and I keep making the same stupid mistakes. "He loves me not. I'm so sinful! How come I keep doing this?" 

Sound familiar? 

I have good news for your heart and for mine. I know you and I have heard this so often that it almost seems to go without saying, but here's the thing. There's hearing and then there's HEARING. Our minds give assent to this thing because we hear it so often, but our hearts have yet to fully grasp what it means, let alone accept it.

Here it is - drum roll - in the first person so that everyone can say it with me: 

HE LOVES ME! HE REALLY, REALLY, LOVES ME!!

Whether I feel Him or not, whether I do things for Him or not, whether good things happen to me or not, whether it's raining or sunny, whether the guy in the next lane cut me off or not, whether the diagnosis is cancer or the common cold ... 

HE LOVES ME! HE REALLY, REALLY LOVES ME!!

He (as my husband put it so eloquently this morning) bankrupted Heaven ... for me. He turned the gates of pearl inside out, gutted Glory, gave everything He had - just to rescue us. Just to rescue me. 

That's how good He is. That's how much He loves. That's how much He thrills when we talk to Him. That's how much He longs to bless me, how intensely and completely He has already forgiven me and accepts me. 

Period. No guesswork, no wishing it were true, no pulling the petals off daisies. Just lift my eyes to ... two arms spread wide. 

On a cross.