Relentless Love

She had taken that fatal step, free falling into the putrid waters below.  It had looked so inviting, so beautiful.  But upon entry, the stark reality hit and the death grip took hold.  Soon she began to smell the sulfur and sense the darkness.   

Her fall from grace left her naked and exposed.  Shame’s scum clings tightly.  Time has passed, unlike the consequences of her sin.   The Gospel rings hollow.  She used to know it well but now it seems like a distant echo of another time.   She has been excluded, if only in her own mind.  A blackball, so to speak. Loneliness and isolation tether her to hopelessness.

And still she replays the details and attempts to answer her own questions. Where was God?  How did this happen?  Is she not known by Him?  Is there no safety in the palace of the King? 

And no matter how many times she tries, she cannot pick herself back up.  Because receiving forgiveness and forgiving oneself are not equal.  Self flagellation is a kind of bloodletting, an attempt to alleviate the pain.  Yet it is also an attempt to retain the pain.  Because if she ever lets go, she fears she may truly have to accept that stain upon her soul.

I don’t know this woman.   Her gut wrenching struggle was shared by another.  And yet I know her well. 

I know …

• ·         That there is no darkness as black as the gutter alongside the narrow road when the foot becomes entangled with sin.
• ·         That like the Israelites, she will have to move toward the waters before they will part.
• ·         That when her running ceases, she will see that the miles away from her Savior were only an illusion as He was there all along.   And He is hosting a banquet in her honor.
• ·         And that upon her return, the word grace will be so fresh she will be able to almost taste it.  And she will want to shout and sing and dance.

I know because she could have been me.   And as she aches, I ache.  I ache to draw her back to a Father who forgives and still has a plan for her life.  I know the heartache of brokenness but I also know a Savior who woos fallen ragamuffins .  At first we flail and resist but He persists in His lifesaving rescue and draws us again and again into His arms.

God loves us with a love that never tires of pursuit.  May she catch a glimpse of this..

  

Tending the Soil

It‘s gardening prep time here in the southeast valley of Arizona.  While much of North America slumbers beneath mountains of snow and shivers in frigid temperatures, I will be on my knees in short sleeves, scooping up dry weathered leaves and loading a truck with bags of compost from a nearby organic farm.  For me, there’s no better feeling.

And from what I see, I am not alone.  Gardening is the fastest growing hobby in the U.S.  Could it be that our humanity hungers for reminders of the Creator around us?   

Even in urban living, city parks beckon.  Community gardens are erected and roof tops of apartment buildings are adorned with vegetation and flowers. Plant and floral arrangements are added to the interior of stark office buildings.  It would seem that when we are deprived of garden, we create it.  Might there be a part of gardening that returns us to the original garden -Eden ­­- where we lost our way?

Every day we are enslaved by routines that keep us attached to “devices” rather than living organisms.  Certainly automation and technology make our world richer, but we cannot deny our longing for something more personal - an opportunity to participate in the miracle and beauty of creation.   It's part of us because we are part of Him and made in His image. 

Gardening also offers a healing effect upon our earthly vessels.  Studies have shown that it can lower blood pressure, increase brain activity and produce feelings of well being.  As we take in the invigorating outside air and scoop the life giving soil into our hands, something happens.  Life erupts not only from the tended garden plot but also from within us.

Rudyard Kipling said, “Adam was a gardener and God, who made him, sees that half of all good gardening is done upon our knees.”   This posture of humility cultivates more than plants and flowers.  It’s a picture of our dependency upon a Savior who gave us eternal life, a life that we, alone, are incapable of producing despite our efforts.

We are all products of seed sowing.  At some point, through God's providence, someone or something spoke truth into our lives.  It fell upon good soil and eventually bore fruit.

I hold this picture in my mind when I see the miracle of a seedling pushing through the garden dirt, bringing forth new life.

 

 

Reflect

The holiday season is rushing in like the tide on the seashore. Grateful hearts, all too brief, are consumed by the vortex of commercialism.   It seems that we barely get our bellies full with turkey before Black Friday assaults us, bringing with it only distant strains of the true meaning of Christmas.  We buy things we cannot afford, send Christmas card letters that paint only the lovely parts of our lives and find ourselves mired in a war over the phrase Merry Christmas vs Happy Holidays.

If I am honest, this is one of the least holy times of the year for me. 

There was a time though, as a child, when Christmas was alive.  Not just with the “big guy in the red suit” but with a baby born in a manger.  The wonder of it all captivated me, a wonder that seems to have been lost over the years. 

Maybe the purity of that time was that there were no responsibilities to fulfill, no grown up accountability's but only the simplicity of childlike trust.  But perhaps there are some pieces to this puzzle that I can rearrange even as an adult.  I cannot physically return to that childhood but I can lay down the cumbersome things that keep me distracted from the heart of Christmas and focus once again upon the glorious mystery.  Like that child from my past, I can sit at His feet with delight.

And as I reflect upon this, I am reminded that it has always been childlike faith that ushers in the Kingdom.

Hymn Nuggets

I’m a praise song girl. The entrance into worship is easy and I love where it takes me.   It feels really good to sing “I am Yours Lord” and “I give it all to You”.   And I really mean it… at least at the moment.  Ten minutes later I may be deciding which church door will get me out more quickly or what lunch food I’m hungering for.  The change from praise to the practical happens as easily as a light switch.   Maybe it’s just my problem but I find it so easy to slip in and out of worship.

Ironically, I grew up with hymns.  The traditional church of which I was a member was one where ladies wore fancy hats, men were decked out in suits and the pews were lined with velvet.  I didn't meet Jesus there, at least not as I now know Him.  Yet I experienced a reverence and an awe for worship in that sanctuary.  Admittedly, the hymns contained words that were stilted and seemed fashioned after another time.  But something else was different that I think was a good thing. 

The hymns didn't focus upon what I felt, but Who God was and what He had accomplished. 

There seems to have been a subtle shift from praising God for Who He is to praising God for what He does for us and how good He makes us feel.  And I fall into this trap so easily.  Yes, God has done great things for me but I must be careful to not place myself as the center as if it all revolves around me.  Our God is an awesome God, with or without me in the equation.

This Advent season I am planning to tackle the hymn.  Instead of an Advent calendar, I discovered a dust covered hymnal in my collection.  As I prepare my heart for the Christmas season, I want to focus anew upon the Godhead through hymns written by men and women over the ages.  Though some of the terminology may be unfamiliar they are sure to encompass some real gold.  I'm going to study them, sing them and enter into praise of the One who never changes or goes out of fashion.. 

So if you happen to wander through my neighborhood over the holidays and hear the strains of an old fashioned hymn sing instead of a Christmas carol, you've got the inside scoop..

Fly

I have often admired the trajectory of birds as they migrate across the horizon in flight.  They seem so purposeful as they grace the skies with their artistry.  When something fearful on the ground disrupts their peace, they soar gracefully toward the heavens. 

We would do well, I think, to emulate their movement.  When life here on earth erupts into trouble as it often does, we tend to stay grounded in the messiness of our suffering.  We may confer with others, even those we respect spiritually, but we spend most of our efforts replaying the options in our minds, tossing to and fro in frustration.  We keep our eyes downward instead of upward.  Why not, in the power of the Spirit, let our thoughts and fears take flight to the Lover of soul?  It is upward where our comfort and reassurance lie - in His arms and His wisdom.

Our human parents, Adam and Eve, have predisposed us to the ground.  We spend much of our time working the ground.  We cover our nakedness and shame while relationships are frequently fraught with sorrow.  But when Christ died and rose again, He offered us another path.   He took flight to the side of the Father and He promised that He would prepare a place for us as well.  Knowing this, why do we not soar to His side at the least provocation?

Scripture says that “we are worth more than many sparrows” who frequently seem to know the right direction better than I.  Today and always in the future I will face several potentially difficult situations.  The challenge remains: will I follow my feathered friends in flight?

  

The Pitfalls of Excellence

There are few things more frustrating: I am on the hunt for something I have misplaced.  I'm always sure that the item sprouted wings but in the end I discover it right where I left it. 

Unfortunately, it’s a bit more complicated when something is gone and we don’t realize it.  The church at Ephesus in the book of Revelation comes to mind.  The constituents were hard working and full of good deeds.  They had persevered and endured hardship in the name of Christ without growing weary.  They were even able to discern true apostleship.  All of these are signs of a healthy, vibrant church.   And let’s face it, they looked pretty good.  But before we are quick to say “sign me up” you may remember that there was one critical ingredient that was missing. 

They had lost their First Love. 

And I wonder.  Isn't the greater tragedy not that it happened, but that they were unaware and functioning well without knowing it?  And this thought terrifies me.  

Because it means that a church can look good while relying on the strength of man but be a counterfeit of the living breathing Bride of Christ. 

The church here in North America is equipped in so many ways.  We have wealth, education, and giftedness.  There are programs to fit every need, multiple pastors to minister and support groups for our dysfunctions.  While these are all good things, I wonder if we are too fat... too well cared for.   Have we begun to lean upon our own understanding, upon the  "institution" of church rather than upon our First Love?  Has our excellence surpassed our Love?  The Bible says what we treasure will also be the location of our heart so perhaps that's the place to start looking.

As a nurse I know that one of the signs of impending death in a terminal illness is often an absence of hunger.  The body shuts down, quietly closing its doors to the sustenance of life.  Likewise, when the Bride loses her appetite for the Bridegroom, the perils of death await us. 

May God save us from ourselves and renew our love for the true Bread of Life..  

Truth

In reality I didn't know the truth.

I didn't know from where he hailed nor at that moment did I care.  The morning had gone from bad to worse and the responsibilities of the day hung over me like the stethoscope around my neck.  I knew I was in trouble when his wife accompanied him to the clinical testing area.  And then the communication debacle began.  His native language and mine did not jive, instructions had to be repeated and I could tell that the understanding was limited by the pauses between us.  The usual quick start to our testing stretched into time I didn't think I had.  I confess, I felt annoyed.  

However, once the testing ensued, I began to ask questions.  I really listened to this man instead of making a snap judgment, depriving him of his beauty and worth as one of God's creation.  I discovered that though his English was limited, his intelligence and life experiences far exceeded mine.  He was gracious and appreciative in a manner that I did not deserve.

And I was so convicted.  I began to see how easily I view others as obstacles to move about in my day.  I am pretty sure that Jesus, The Truth, would tell me those people are my day.

Today I am going to start my routine based upon the Truth.  That God so loved the world that He gave... And I pray that my perspective will be His.