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.

incarnation

There was once a young couple who was deeply in love and had decided to marry.  A few weeks after a beautiful wedding and an incredible honeymoon, they had settled in and begun the process of crafting their new life together.  It was everything they’d ever dreamed.  But before too long the new, young wife began experiencing a strange dizziness and a slurring of her speech.  It was soon discovered that she had a tumor in her brain that was growing daily and had to be removed.

The surgeon met often with the young couple over the next days and weeks, explaining in detail all the treatment options available; of which surgery would be by far the most beneficial.  He told them everything about what the surgery would involve, including both his highest hopes and the greatest risks of such a procedure--one of which could be partial paralysis of one side of her face due to the tumor’s proximity to a nerve that controlled many of her facial movements.  So in hopes of extending their days together as long as possible, they decided to go through with it.

The day of the surgery came, and the procedure was completed.  The young couple sat together in the recovery room anxiously awaiting word from the doctor as to the success of the operation.  The good news was that the tumor was removed and the prognosis for the future was very good.  The bad news was that, indeed, during the procedure—in order to get all of the tumor—a nerve  had been damaged that would forever alter the smile of this beautiful young woman. 

The young wife was so thankful for the success of the surgery, but inwardly devastated to learn that her face, from this day forward, would always be contorted; and that her beautiful smile would be permanently disfigured as a result.

The young husband was simply wonderful in his love for and affirmation of his new bride’s beauty as she dealt with the hard news.  “I think it looks cute,” he said, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”  And as tears streamed down both of their faces he leaned over to kiss his bride gently on her newly disfigured lips.  And as he did he twisted his own mouth to fit hers in order to show her that their kiss still worked.

Christmas is the season where we celebrate the incarnation--God taking on our distorted flesh...in Jesus.  God twists his own lips to match ours, in order to show us that our kiss still works.  O Come Let Us Adore Him!

room for christmas

While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. (Luke 2:6-7)

Room is a very important thing in the life of the Spirit.  As a matter of fact, new birth seems to require it.  Unfortunately, and ironically, during this season—just as in the time of Mary and Joseph—it is so easy for life just to fill up.  And when life is over-filled there is simply no room for something new (of the Spirit) to be born in us; the pace and demands of the season are at odds with the room and reflection necessary to pay attention to how, where, and when God might be entering our lives/world.

Maybe that’s why the words of the old Christmas carol remind us, “let every heart, prepare him room.”  It seems that the writers of those wonderful songs of old knew well the secret that unless we work diligently to make room for him, it will not simply happen on its own—it will not just “fall on our heads.”  Making room takes effort and intention and prayer and planning.  And unless we are willing and able to put forth the  energy and effort to pay attention, it is likely that when he does eventually come, we will miss him too.

joseph

Luke only mentions his name a couple of times; Mark and John not at all.  The little we do know of him comes from a few verses in Matthew—and that’s not a lot.  We know he cared enough for Mary that he wanted to protect her from the public scorn and disgrace that a young woman in her circumstances was destined for.  We know that he was a righteous man that believed what the angel of the Lord had spoken to him (in a dream; always in a dream) and thus was obedient in all that he was asked to do and to be.  We know that he led his family to Bethlehem for the census and was resourceful in providing a safe (yet humble) space for his young bride to give birth.  And we know that he protected his young family from danger when he fled with them in the middle of the night to Egypt to keep them safe from Herod’s wrath.  Caring, protective, righteous, believing, obedient, providing…a pretty good list of qualities to say the least.

And yet Joseph was never intended to be  a main character in the story, probably because, although his role was important, he realized that he was not the point—Jesus was.  It is as if he voluntarily stepped aside, into the background, in order for the main character to take center stage.  His role in this drama would be one of background rather than spotlight.  He was simply part of the supporting cast; somehow both recognizing and embracing this reality.  In fact, Joseph’s very best work—the nurture, care, and guidance of Jesus in his formative years—was done in virtual anonymity.  Not a word, other than the instance at the Temple when Jesus was twelve, was ever written about it.  He was a hidden and silent partner in the unfolding story of God’s life on earth.  For the most part he was unrecognized, unsung, and unnoticed—and it is simply beautiful.  It makes me want to be just like him; to realize that God is the point of the story, and therefore to embrace the covert and behind-the-scenes ways we are called to help “bring him into” this dark and broken world.