a do-over

Did you ever wish you could have a do-over? You know, like when you get to the end of a conversation or an event and you think, "I really missed it there." As a matter of fact, in your desire to be helpful—to whoever it was that you were speaking to or sitting with—you were actually anything but that.  The desire was a wonderful thing, and came from a beautiful place, but it actually kept you from creating the space for them to be.  For some reason you talked a little too much and listened a little too little, so that the time became more about you than about them.  So, you look back and long for another chance, not for your sake but for theirs.  Because what they were really looking for and hoping for was just someone to be with them; and your misguided desire kept you from being able to do that.  Luckily God is big enough to use even our bumbling and our fumbling to accomplish His purposes.  I guess that’s some consolation, huh?  Plus the fact that next time, I’ll know better…I hope.

listening

     “At that time the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom.  Five of them were foolish and five were wise.  The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them.  The wise, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps.  The bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell asleep.

     “At midnight the cry rang out: ‘Here’s the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’

     “Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps.  The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.’

     “‘No,’ they replied, ‘there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.’

     “But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut.

     “Later the others also came. ‘Sir! Sir!’ they said. ‘Open the door for us!’

     “But he replied, ‘I tell you the truth, I don’t know you.’

     “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.” (Matthew 25:1-13)

It’s funny how you can read a passage of scripture a thousand times and then, all of the sudden, notice something brand new.  With me it probably has something to do with the fact that I am a sentence finisher.  I know; it’s a tough thing to admit.  But I’m sure my wife can attest to the fact that oftentimes I think I know what someone is going to say before they have completed their thought.  It is a terrible habit that can be quite frustrating to others, especially those you love—you know, the ones that really desire (and deserve) you to listen attentively to them.  And it’s particularly unhelpful in relationships; because it means that, since you know what is coming, you have already stopped listening completely…and often have begun your response before their sentence is even completed.  It is also a terrible habit when it comes to God, and His Word.  You know, the Word that says stuff like: Hear O Israel and He who has ears, let him hear.  Being a sentence finisher with God means that frequently, as I come to a particular scripture, I stop reading—or at least listening—altogether, because I already know what it says.

Well, on the particular day in question, I did that exact thing.  The scripture for the day was Matthew 25:1-13…you know, the parable about the 10 virgins, and the lamps, and the oil, and yada, yada, yada, ”Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.”  Of course.  I’ve read it a thousand times.  As a matter of fact, I think I read it in one of the readings from last week.  And, all of the sudden, low and behold, I’ve stopped listening.  Well the only good thing about me being a sentence finisher is that at least I know I struggle with that affliction.  So quite often I am able to catch myself in mid-finish, repent, and start all over again.  And usually, as I was on this particular day, I am so glad I did.

Because when I went back to the passage I was drawn by the Spirit to something I’d never really spent much time thinking about before…the oil.  Seems like a pretty significant part of the story, huh?  I know, I know, I’m really slow sometimes.  And as I began to think about the oil, God met me in such a sweet and rich and wonderful way.  “How is your oil level these days?  What is it within you that offers fuel to the flame of my Spirit; that causes you to burn with holy longing (zeal) for a deep and rich life with Me?  How is the life within you—that life that comes up from your very depths and shines through your eyes and face and very being, like a beacon in this dark and desperate world?  Like Moses when he came down from the mountaintop?  What is it that burns within you in such a beautiful way that those in this world are automatically drawn to its light, as a moth to a flame?  Are you nurturing this life of God within you?  Are you staying full of me?  Do you have enough oil in your heart and soul to shine on indefinitely?  What does it look like for you to make sure you have enough?  How are you nurturing and caring for this life of Mine within you?  Take extra special care, my beloved child, to do just that; for then you will live every second of your life in readiness—readiness for my coming.”

Now that’s the way to finish a sentence.  Thanks be to God!!!

jackson (1-7-87)

canyon

standing at the base of the canyon

looking up

how immense the walls

towering far above

and how deep the floor

dark and hopeless

it seems an impossible climb

out of this pit of sadness

groaning and despair

how can i possibly reach the other side

where life can continue

once again?

how can i do this?

i cry into the chasm

how can i do this?

it just doesn’t seem possible

i need someone

who knows the way

through the pain and darkness

the despair and loneliness

back to life again

who could possibly know the way?

only one who has been there

who has been to the depths

and made it back alive

only one who has seen rock bottom

and survived even still

i need someone who knows the way

and can walk beside me

through the darkest night

back into the light again

only you can offer hope

you alone

hold the possibility

that in spite of all the pain

life can one day begin again

only you can offer hope

that the canyon rim

can someday be reached

only you know the way

so reach down

from on high

and take hold

of this broken heart

reach down

to the bottom of this abyss

and lift me up

take me

in your strong and tender arms

and make my shattered life

whole once again

P.S. I wrote this years and years ago in the midst of some of the deepest groaning I could ever imagine.  And as I read it again, 25 years later,  I realize that you do eventually get to the other side of the canyon; life does return to "normal" again, but it is an entirely "new normal" as one of my dear friends, who knows the depths of the groan, likes to say.  What stands out to me most on this side of it all...is gratitude.  I am so incredibly grateful for the gift of our few days together...and what God did in me (us) as a result.

both and

¹⁸ And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit. (2 Corinthians 3:18 ESV)

¹⁸ And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. (2 Corinthians 3:18 NIV)

There is something about the relationship between beholding, reflecting, and being transformed that really bears paying attention to.  And it is captured in a very subtle way in this very verse.  Do you see it?  The word that is used here in 2 Corinthians 3 is translated different ways in different versions of scripture.  The main two camps being, that we behold God’s glory and therefore are transformed by it.  And the second being we reflect God’s glory as the moon does the light of the sun.  Isn’t it great that God uses a word here that can be translated either way?  Isn’t it just like him to do that?  Isn’t it just like God to use a word that is not either or but both and?  I love that.  I love it because it means both are true…and intimately connected.  It is by beholding Him (constantly fixing our eyes upon Him, like a groom who can’t take his eyes off of his beautiful bride) that we are changed into His likeness—transformed—and, in turn, reflect that glory to those around us.  Moses veiled his face because he didn’t want the people to see the glory fading away, but when we behold Him we receive a glory that is not only unfading, but actually ever-increasing.  So let us behold/reflect that we might be transformed more and more into His likeness.

washed

…so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist.  After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him. 

     He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?”

     Jesus replied, “You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”

     “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”

     Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.” (John 13:4-8)

Years ago I was at a weekend camp with kids and leaders from my community.  My job for the weekend was to make sure all of the leaders, who were there with their high school friends, had everything they needed for a fruitful and successful experience.  Just before our main meeting on Saturday night, one of our leaders came to me with a dilemma.  His cabin and another cabin of guys, from a rival high school, had been in conflict all weekend, several times being on the verge of violence.  His dilemma was that during the free time, just before our evening meeting, some kids from the other cabin had come in and vandalized his cabin.  His fear was that if the guys in his cabin went up after the meeting and saw what the other cabin had done, there was sure to be a fight.  He wondered if I might be able to go up during the meeting and take care of whatever damage might have been inflicted.  So after making sure everyone was in the meeting and taking care of a couple of more quick requests, I headed up to survey the damage.

 As soon as I walked in the door I couldn’t believe my eyes…or nose.  What these guys had done was come in and take a crap right in the middle of the floor of their rival cabin.  And not only that, they had taken the excrement and spread it all over the walls.  When I walked into the bathroom, I could quickly see that they had done the same thing there as well; spreading the nastiness all over those walls too.  It didn’t take long before I realized exactly what I had to do.  While the entire camp sat in club listening to the incredible story of what Jesus had done on the Cross, I would be on my hands and knees cleaning this incredibly nasty mess off the floors and walls.  I must admit that, as I began the process, I was not pleased—and that’s putting it mildly.

So what do you do?  You get over it, you roll up your sleeves, and you get to work.  It wasn’t until about half way through the process that I was in a state to hear anything other than my anger and frustration.  But as I continued on, I began to realize that God was right there in the midst of it all.  This is exactly where Jesus would be; just as he was when we bent down to wash the disciple’s dirty feet—why in the world would Almighty God stoop that low?  Only because of Love.   As a matter of fact that was not all, God had something more to say to me.  “You know that the kids that did this are listening to the story of my great love for them right now don’t you?  You see what you are doing right there, cleaning that crap off of everything?  That’s what I’m doing for them right now—even as they hear the story of my Passion.  I am washing them.  I’m cleaning their filth and their stench and their nastiness with my very own hands; with my very own blood.  And you know what else?  I did the same thing for you.  You were exactly like them; covered in your own sin and filth and nastiness.  I got my hands involved in your shit, I washed you clean, I made you whole.”  And before I knew it, tears were streaming down my cheeks…tears of joy, tears of gratitude, tears of recognition of the depths of His amazing love…tears of peace.  I, indeed, had been washed as white as snow by the loving hands—and blood—of my Creator.  Only because of Love.  Thanks be to God!!!

P.S.  I really haven’t ever told people this story before.  It is something that has kind of been between me and God up until now.  I think that’s because, for a long time, my telling of it would’ve been mostly about me…and now it seems obvious to me that it’s ALL about Him.

stories

Immediately after my calling—without consulting anyone around me and without going up to Jerusalem to confer with those who were apostles long before I was—I got away to Arabia. Later I returned to Damascus, but it was three years before I went up to Jerusalem to compare stories with Peter. (Galatians 1:16-18)

I love that the first thing Paul and Peter did when they got together, for the very first time, was tell stories.  Can you imagine being a fly on the wall?  There is something about the telling of our stories (or of God’s story in us) that is very rich and life giving; it’s almost like the stories must be told in order to have their fully desired effect in our hearts and lives and souls.  And the funny thing is that I’m not sure who they have the bigger impact on, the hearer or the teller.  Obviously there is something wonderful about hearing stories of how God grabbed someone’s heart or made someone whole; but there is also this strange and wonderful dynamic that takes place in the heart of the teller even as the story is being told.  It is as if somehow it is continuing to move and to grow in his heart and soul even as he shares what he has seen or heard.  Do you know what I’m talking about?  It’s those times when you are in the middle of telling some incredible story of God’s Spirit and God’s work, and you actually begin to hear what you are saying…and be completely captured by it.  It is almost as if you didn’t completely realize what all was going on until you began to tell it, and as you opened your mouth it is almost as if the story began telling itself and was just using your mouth as its vehicle.  After all, it is not your story, or even mine (or theirs for that matter), but the story of God.  It is His, and something about its quality tells us that.  Somehow if the story was only about me, or about you, it wouldn’t carry the same weight; it wouldn’t have the same impact.  It would fall lifeless to the ground and die—so many of my stories have suffered that fate through the years simply because I didn’t yet understand that the story wasn’t about me, but about Him.  Stories about Him have life; they live on and produce their fruit long after their telling.  It is simply beautiful.    

I have had the pleasure of experiencing this a lot this fall, as one story after another has simply unfolded before my very eyes; as if the story itself was somehow longing to be seen and heard…and told.  I’m just grateful for the grace (and it is completely grace) to pay attention and to recognize even a little of what God was up to at the moment.  Thanks be to God!

new years

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven…a time to keep and a time to throw away. (Ecclesiastes 3:1, 6)

It seems to me that times of transition have a lot to teach us if we are willing to listen.  They are times when we are leaving the old and familiar behind in some way, shape, or form, and moving out into the new and unknown…whatever that may be.  They are times of great possibility because they are times when we tend to be a little more open and vulnerable than usual—a little less secure, a little less sure of ourselves.  They are times, it would seem, that are ideal for God to really get his hands on us. 

It is during such times that we are likely to stop and reflect on the content and direction of our lives; looking back to see the people, and events, and things that have formed us up to that point.  And looking ahead as we dream about, and consider, and hope for what we most want our lives to be.  It is in this fruitful space (liminal space as Richard Rohr calls it) that the words of Ecclesiastes offer us a great guide.  They ask us to consider what must we keep, of all that has been part of our lives up to that point, and what must we throw away?

I have only to look back to the summer to find a classic example of this; as I said good bye to my job with Young Life and began the process of weeding through 9 years of “stuff” that had accumulated in my office and on my computer.  Literally, with every item I held in my hands I was faced with the decision, should I keep this or should I throw it away?  It was almost as if as I held each item—and as each item held me—that each contained not only a wonderful memory, but also a question…and a prayer.  I quickly realized (with the help of Barbara Brown Taylor in her book Leaving Church) that this process was bigger and more symbolic than each little item I held in my hands.  It was a point of deciding who God wanted me to be from this point forward—what I would keep—and what, of a wonderful past, needed to be deeply valued for what it was, but left behind—what I would throw away. 

The New Year invites us all to consider this question for ourselves.  As we look to the year ahead, what do we keep and what do we throw away…because there is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.