What He Gave Me

Most people grow up with an expectation of disappointment or an overriding attitude of fear.
It's true.
I didn't know it for a long time but when I started to ask, almost everyone told me this.
Disappointment and fear: is this how we are meant to live?
No, of course not.

I grew up with an expectation of wonder. And I got it from my dad.
When we were young, Dad took us out for rides on Sunday afternoons (gas was 25 cents). He never told us where we were going, so we looked with anticipation around every corner, asking "Are we there yet?"  When we finally arrived, always at a place Dad had found just for the occasion--a waterfall, or a pristine sledding hill, or a remote Hopi village--he presented it to us with a flourish as if to say, "Isn't it wonderful?" And it always was.
And that was our framework for life.
He showed me what a really fine tomato tastes like.
He marked out the profile of the man in the moon.
He plunged my hands into yeasty, rising dough.
He rolled me down a hill fragrant with just-cut grass.
He stood me in front of President Lincoln and told me to think.
He showed me what the world looked like from the sky.
And it was all wonderful.

My father told me to be smart and careful, but not to be afraid.
And, more importantly, he taught me to LIVE. 
And, without meaning to, he taught me about God.

Do not fear, for I am with you--Isaiah 41:10
For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity--2Timothy 1:7
I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.--Psalm 27:13

Today: Don't Miss It

photo:jronaldlee.com

Stop.
You are missing something.
Right now. This minute.

It's your life.
What happens when you are doing something else.
The bloom opening between breaths.
The tap of first rain.
Silent minutes that neglect to announce their passing.

They belonged to you,
gifts showered one by one.
You were meant to pick them up,
smell each in its turn,
let it run down your hand and arm
until it becomes only cool shine,
and makes room for more.

I sometimes fear that, having ignored too many little drops,
I how hear only the crash of life's wave,
bearing down, almost to shore.

But I looked up today,
and it came.
The one drop.
Fragrant, cool, sweet with washing.

This one, I kept, and savored,
remembering that the waterfall would never roar
if each droplet, in its turn, did not fall. 

Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfall.--Psalm 42:7

In Company with Songbirds

The came in silently, some with shuffling steps, some with walkers. They found the right pages with practiced hands, and looked to casual eyes like a hundred elderly ladies ready for a meeting.
Then they began to sing.
And I realized that I was in the company not of retired nuns at St. Francis House in Dubuque, Iowa, but with songbirds.

"We come to share our story...." they sang.

Their stories not so much as retired nuns, but as redeemed children of Christ.
The story that brings them so much joy, regardless of number of their years or the condition of their flesh:

"We come to break the bread..."

The bread of life, the cup of salvation,
the soaring redemption they all share regardless of their background or origin.

"We come to know our rising from the dead."

They may have trouble sitting, or standing, or walking,
But they know that amidst it all, they rise with Christ.

They taught me this.
Thank you, little birds.

The Narrow Way: Still Loving the Law

Moses is dead. Joshua is in charge and the Israelites stand on the edge of the Promised Land. What next?

Joshua knew.
They were to obey the law. Not just the ten commandments,but the whole law, all the instructions God gave His people regarding what to eat, how to judge, when to celebrate, what to do about sin, and when and where to bring offerings and praise...all of it.

Be strong and very courageous. Be careful to obey all the law my servant Moses gave you; do not turn from it to the right or to the left, that you may be successful wherever you go.--Joshua 1:7

And why? Wasn't this just a bunch of rules?
Not even close.
Through these laws, God would keep His wandering people close to Him. He still does. 
Through word and song and action, He would give voice to His Holy character and share His glory from His place in the tabernacle.

Picture this for a minute.
God Himself descended to rest between the cherubim in the Holy of Holies and held His law before the people, saying to them: Look on Me. This is who I AM. Draw as close as you can so that you may know Me in your very being.
I give you my law so that, through its execution, you can cleave to me. 
 From there, I will protect and defend a holy people totally devoted to Me.

Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; to not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.--Joshua 1:9

I want you back.
Come.
The way is narrow. Walk in it anyway.

He still says this.
We still must walk the narrow way between the Cherubim.
By the light of the Spirit, we follow Christ, the Slain Lamb, through the torn curtain to the Father.
The same God. The same Christ. The same Spirit. The same law. The same goal.

Do you see the smoke rising from beyond His courtyard?
He is there showing the way, by the same Word.
His majesty is still awful and beautiful, His power still complete. 
Approach Him as did the high priest, on your knees, and He still receives you in love.

Sin: Am I Done Yet?

Photo: photosofbiblicalexplanations1.blogspot.com

Repentance is a single act.
In that He died, He died unto sin once...--Romans 8:35

A single act, but one that for you and me may not, probably will not, be accomplished all at once.
Repentance is deep, and needs to finish all the way down to its dark, disgusting bottom. 
It is not just "I'm sorry" nor "I'm really sorry" nor "I'm (sniff) so very sorry." Repentance isn't even just "I won't ever do that again."
True repentance rips and racks down to a center that never wants to see the light of day.
It resists exposure to the point that we need to tear it out. 
In short, if one has not been miserable over sin, one has not truly repented.

Repentance requires that we plumb down to the full depths of our own depravity.
Guilt and shame are long and wide and they need to be. It is so for every sin, because the commission of any sin means that we have chosen the way of idolatry. We have chosen to worship other gods. That is the nature, the definition, of sin.
It is not a mistake or misstep. It is betrayal. And it needs to die.

That's the bad news. And it is very bad, indeed.
But there is also Good News, because once we have come to the end of it, once we have reached fully down, pulled out absolutely all of the disease, we can welcome the cure. 
Once I am done, God receives me into His presence, and His reception is complete and eternal. I am clean. He has made a way for me and holds my place.

In that He died, He died unto sin once, but in that He lives, He lives unto God. So reckon yourselves also dead unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ.--Romans 6:9-11

God does nothing halfway and neither can I.
I cannot become fully alive until I have rendered my sin fully dead. 
Repentance. 
The gateway to death.
The path of life.

Round and Round We Go

Photo:xeniagreekmuslimah.wordpress.com

Oh, those Israelites.
Round and round in the same circle.

They soon forgot what He had done and did not wait for His counsel. In the desert they gave in to their craving; in the wasteland they put God to the test. So He gave them what they asked for, but sent a wasting disease upon them.--Ps 106:14-15

Round and round.

Actively loving God, then complacent, then rationalizing sin, then worshiping idols, then subjected to bondage, then rescued by God, then back to actively loving God again.
They never quite got it, did they?  I wonder why?
I should know, after all. I do it, too.
So do you.

Nobody lives in a constant state of awe and humility before God. Nobody always credits and adores Him for life and love and faith. We all cycle through our own sinful tendencies.
And He knows this. So God gave us a conscience. And He put up danger signs, so we don't have to retrace the same sickening circle all the time.
Do you know your danger signs?
I know mine.
My danger sign is rationalizing.

Here's what rationalizing sounds like:
First comes that prick of conscience, the annoying one, the one I want reason to ignore. Then the justification--
"God won't mind that second, or third, piece of cake. He wants me to be happy and satisfied. He says so."
"I can stay a little later. My husband won't mind."
"I'm so tired. The kids can make their own breakfast. I need to take care of myself, after all."
And I can find a Bible verse to support every one of these.

The bottom line, though, is that I don't want to give up my pleasure and I want God to agree with me.
Sounds a lot like "Did God really say...?", doesn't it?
Rather than using my Bible to teach and enlighten and bring me into God's throneroom, I use it to justify myself.
Here's the beartrap:
The minute I go to my Bible to get more of earth rather than more of God, I'm in trouble.
I have entered my own cycle of sin.
When this happens, this is the next place I must go:
Save us, O Lord our God, and gather us from the nations, that we may give thanks to your holy Name and glory in your praise.--Ps 106:47
It's all God. All God.

First Light

Photo: inspire21.com

I have wondered for a long time about how soldiers get ready for their days, the ones in which they know they will have to risk their lives in combat and during which they might die. The rest of us get up, brush our teeth, decide what to wear or what to have for breakfast, kiss our spouse, and go to work. Somehow, a solder has to rub sleep out of his eyes, shoulder his weapon, and prepare to fight for his life.

I have heard a few discussions about this, memories of times filled with bullets and explosions and blood. I have heard about days when the dead lay all around except for one. I have heard about the smell of spent shells and been asked to imagine the sound of the accumulated gunfire of a hundred men shooting at once, but I have never experienced anything even remotely like it. I do know, however, someone who has.

Israel's King David did not use a gun, but he did use spears and shields. And he also did something that few soldiers can: he found words for what he experienced.

Strangers are attacking me; ruthless men seek my life, men without regard for God. -Psalm 53: 3
See how they lie in wait for me! Fierce men conspire against me for no offense or sin of mine, O Lord--Psalm 59:3 

Every soldier must at some time cry out just like David did. And I'm ashamed to say it, so do I, even though my lot is less dangerous and the price much lower. Some days, enemies just seem to crowd around and I can almost hear their spears rattle. On those days, though, I have to find solace in the same place David did.

Contend, O Lord, with those who contend with me; fight against those who fight against me. Take up shield and buckler, arise and come to my aid. Brandish spear and javelin against those who pursue me. --Psalm 35: 1-2a

And on those days, knowing that we do not have the final say as to who wins or loses, who lives or dies, there is only one place to look for real assurance.

Say to my soul, 'I am your salvation.' Psalm 35: 2b
Rest, soldier. Your battle may still rage, but the Victor fights beside you, and has already won.

Reprinted from By This Still Hearth, 5/18/2011