"All joy...emphasizes our pilgrim status: always reminds, beckons, awakes desire. Our best havings are wantings.” - C.S. Lewis

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

God Loves Blue

Written by my wife, Jen...

Yesterday, our dog Blue ran away. Jay was helping us get in the car amidst serious preschooler meltdown and I left the garage door open. Blue was off in search of adventure in no time. As Jay and I chased him down the alley (toward a busy Kingshighway), I knew the situation was bad. We were no match for his speed and he was not taking any breaks.
As I ran back to the garage I begged God for mercy. Story was bawling. “Girls, we need to help Daddy rescue Blue. We’ll drive while he runs.” I realized we might be driving to a scene that could traumatize our sensitive little 3 year old’s heart. “Let’s pray. We need Jesus to help Blue.” We begged God to help Blue stop running. For him to not run onto Kingshighway. For Daddy to catch him. Simple. Earnest. Desperate. Need.
He stopped. Unaccountably. Suddenly. Right as we prayed. One house short of Kingshighway he turned into someone’s yard. Walked right into Jay’s arms. Jay had almost decided to turn around and walk the other way rather than watch disaster happen.
We rejoiced and thanked Jesus profusely. Tears turned to laughter. As the close call was recalled throughout the day, I reminded Story how Jesus answered our prayers and rescued Blue. I knew I needed to enter in more myself, let it reach my own heart, but I didn’t want to take the risk. Risk believing what I was telling Story – that Jesus really cares about our little dog (Really? Have You heard his bark, Lord?!) and our little family and our little daily dramas. I acknowledged his rescue in my head and embraced the “teaching moment” as a parent.
But this morning as I took up my study of Paul Miller’s A Praying Life (ironic, right?), I couldn’t focus. I sensed the Lord saying, Just sit in it, Jen. Let your heart receive my involvement in your real life. Much easier to read a book on prayer than accept a tangible intervention on our behalf, an answered prayer. Concepts feel so much safer than real relationship with a God who acts in the world, in my world. Especially one I can’t control or predict outcomes, just cry out for mercy from His hand. But today, by the grace of God, I opened my heart. I believe; help my unbelief.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Lord's Supper for Lent - Baby Food

This morning I was feeding Annie (our 6 month old) and wondering what I would write for today’s meditation on the Lord’s Supper. And so I said a little prayer, asking God to feed our church with the knowledge of our need for His Son and His heart to meet that need. But Annie was hungry – really hungry – so I couldn’t tarry long in my prayer. As I buckled her into her high-chair she sat there like a baby bird with her beak open – so wanting the food that she knew was coming. That’s one of the daunting, yet wonderful things about having little ones: they really need you. She needed the food I had and we both knew it. And thankfully Annie really wants it too. Annie is an EATER! (Don’t know where she gets that from). She loved the Apple/Strawberry mush that I started with – gobbling up the first few bites as if she hadn’t eaten in days. She even giggled a little bit as it was going down which made me laugh. I think she’s really funny.

But of course only half of it got where it needed to go. Feeding a 6 month old can test one’s coordination skills I assure you! As usual, she was wearing as much as she was eating. And it got worse as her hunger began to ease. She became distracted by a balloon across the room and forgot all about the meal for a minute or two. I had to be patient with my spoon. Very patient. There was a lot to do today, but what was more important than making sure my little girl had the food she needed? Nothing, I guess – but I did feel the tension drawing me elsewhere – on to the next thing.

Well, when she finally did resume eating her bites were smaller and even more spilled out onto her bib because of her distraction. So, I decided to change things up a bit. I’d bring out the peas. And when the first bite hit her tongue she grimaced and spit it out. Blah! Oh well, that didn’t work. I admit I was a little frustrated with her as I wiped the green goo off my glasses. She’ll need to learn that there will be days where peas are the only option. But today she had a choice and so I busted out a fresh container of sweet potatoes – another healthy alternative – and she resumed eating. I know that about her. She likes sweet potatoes. Not as much as bananas and strawberry/apple mush, but she likes them still and so she ate until she was quite content.

She’ll be hungry again in a few hours. I know that about her too. And I’m thankful for the opportunity to feed her again, so long as I’m not too distracted to enjoy it as much as I did this morning.

Today I’m thankful. Maybe you are too. Thankful for a God who doesn’t think our neediness is daunting at all. Quite the contrary – he delights in it – never tires of it. I’m thankful for a God who knows what’s good for me – even if it tastes like peas. I’m thankful for a God who is patent and undistracted and eager feed me despite that fact that I am entirely impatient with him and so very distracted by the world that I rarely find joy in the food He spoons out. I’m thankful for a God who likes me…and yes…loves me too. And for a God who knows me…better than I know myself…whose very purpose in sending His son was to make me quite content in Him.

And so my prayer today – for myself and each of us – is that we will be EATERS, plain and simple. Giggly eaters of His grace. Amen.

Lord's Supper for Lent - The Father's Kiss

Did you all see the women’s downhill yesterday? It was CRAZY. The course was very challenging – icy and bumpy – “as hard as cement” one commentator said, “and so, so fast.” And it seemed like every other contestant had a major wipeout that appeared life-threatening. Thankfully no one was seriously injured, but as with other Olympic events, I found myself marveling at the courage of each of these women to even shove off up there at the top of the mountain. Rose Marie Miller, in her very helpful book, From Fear to Freedom, recounts a story where she found herself at the top of a mountain in Switzerland with a pair of skis strapped to her feet – looking down at a ski run that was – as she put it, “way out of my class.” She had no choice but to shove off and hope for the best, but within feet she found herself on her backside. Over and over again she tried and over and over again kept falling. She resorted to walking down the mountain, but she kept sinking in the snow. She then scooted down the mountain on her backside and then eventually – 3 HOURS later – freezing and pitiful she arrived at the ski station. All the while, she was angry at God – blaming him for allowing her to go up that mountain in the first place.



The following Sunday – still bitter – she listened to her husband (Jack Miller) preach on Exodus 17 where Moses strikes the rock which produces life-giving water. Jack likened this scene to Jesus who was smitten for us in the same manner thus providing us with a river of his righteousness that makes us forgiven for Jesus’ sake. This is what happened next:



I don’t remember much from the rest of the sermon, but when it came time for communion Jack said, “The Lord’s Supper is the Father’s kiss, assuring us of his love.” As the loaf of French bread was broken, it gave a crack. I saw with new eyes the spear of the soldiers breaking the body of Christ for my sins. My own heart broke as I remembered the ski incident of a few days before. It was as if God were saying to me, “Rose Marie, your whole life is like your slide down that mountain. You are full of presumption, self-righteousness, and pride. I let you go up there to show you about yourself.” There was no audible voice saying these words, but they were there, and directed at my heart. The Father had opened my eyes to grace, the caterpillar was being lifted out of the fire by his loving hand. But it was a most painful encounter. The fire seemed to have entered my heart, burning away my intense self-centered moralism.



During this Lenten season, God is calling all of us to this kind of transparency with ourselves. But that is only possible if we really understand how much we are loved by God – a love we see so clearly in the Lord’s Supper. As Miller says, I believe it is impossible to face your hurts and hidden sins without the knowledge that God loves you. The burden is too heavy. Up to this point, my lack of awareness of God’s unconditional love was the core reason I needed order and control. Grace to understand this truth must come to us on God’s terms, not ours. It only enters our lives when we stop trying and cry out to our Father genuinely for help.”



Today let’s all cry out to the God who kisses us to help us see our presumption, self-righteousness and pride and to work in us the amazing reality of His love that is altogether unconditional. Lord Jesus, open our eyes to your grace so that we can see our need for it. Lord Jesus, open our eyes to our need for grace so that we can see it is ours in the smitten rock and the broken bread – in You. Amen.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Lord's Supper for Lent - Stinky Feet

My sister just bought Story (our almost 3 year old) “The Jesus Storybook Bible” for her birthday. Story loves it – especially the Jonah and the “big fish that goes gulp” story. Here is the way the author – Sally Lloyd-Jones – tells the story of the Lord’s Supper. I hope it will be a blessing to you as it was to me…

It was Passover, the time when God’s people remembered how God had rescued them from being slaves in Egypt. Every year they killed a lamb and ate it. “The lamb died instead of us!” they would say. But this Passover, God was getting ready for an even Greater Rescue. Jesus and his friends were having the Passover meal together in an upstairs room. But Jesus’ friends were arguing. What about? They were arguing about stinky feet. Stinky feet? Yes, that’s right. Stinky feet.

(Now the thing about feet back then was that people didn’t wear shoes; they only wore sandals, which might not sound unusual, except that the streets in those days were dirty – and I don’t mean just dusty dirty – I mean really stinky dirty. With all those cows and horses everywhere, you can imagine the stuff on the street that ended up on their feet!)

So anyway, someone had to wash away the dirt, but it was a dreadful job. Who on earth would ever dream of volunteering to do it? Only the lowliest servant.

“I’m not the servant!” Peter said.

“Nor am I” said Matthew.

Quietly, Jesus got up from the table, took off his robe, picked up a basin of water, knelt down, and started to wash his friends’ feet.

“You can’t,” Peter said. He didn’t understand about Jesus being the Servant King.

“If you don’t let me wash away the dirt, Peter,” Jesus said, “you can’t be close to me.”

Jesus knew that what people needed most was to be clean on the inside. All the dirt on their feet was nothing compared to the sin in their hearts.

“Then wash me, Lord!” Peter said, tears filling his eyes, “All of me!”

One by one, Jesus washed everyone’s feet.

“I am doing this because I love you,” Jesus explained. “Do this for each other.”…

Then Jesus picked up some bread and broke it. He gave it to his friends. He picked up a cup of wine and thanked God for it. He poured it out and shared it.

“My body is like this bread. It will break,” Jesus told them. “This cup of wine is like my blood. It will pour out. But this is how God will rescue the whole world. My life will break and God’s broken world will mend. My heart will tear apart – and your hearts will heal. Just as the Passover lamb died, so now I will die instead of you. My blood will wash away all of your sins. And you’ll be clean on the inside – in your hearts. So whenever you eat and drink, remember,” Jesus said, “I’ve rescued you!”

Jesus knew it was nearly time for him to leave the world and to go back to God.

“I won’t be with you long,” he said. “You are going to be very sad. But God’s Helper will come. And then you’ll be filled up with a Forever Happiness that won’t ever leave. So don’t be afraid. You are my friends and I love you.”

Thank God that he is a God who not only doesn’t mind some stinky feet, but would die for them!

Grace,

Jay

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Ash Wednesday Reflection

Fat Tuesday starts it off all wrong. No wonder there is a massive misunderstanding of what the Lenten season is all about. Apparently this is the idea: go and eat and drink as much as you can – like a Biggest Loser contestant going out for one last night of nacho’s and beer and justifying it by saying something like: “Starting tomorrow it’s all over. No more fun for 46 days. So I might as well get my fill now. After all, even if I gain 10 pounds tonight that’s just 10 more pounds I can be proud of losing (or rewarded for losing) over the coming weeks of misery.”
That’s how so many see Lent – as a time of miserable self-sacrifice, the only redeeming value of which is that we can be proud of ourselves at the end of it for giving up chocolate or smoking or cuss words. Is this the purpose of Lent? To be a time of dark foreboding strictness? Some sort of self-flagellating penance that makes us the hero of the Lenten story?
NO! A thousand times no. Yes, it is to be a time of sober reflection, no doubt about it. And yes, we should examine the sin that lies deep within each one of us during Lent. But not so that we can become more attractive or more competent or more heroic. On Ash Wednesday (and all 46 days of Lent for that matter) we ought to look much like we do when approaching the Lord’s Supper. Paul says in 1 Corinthians 11 in his instructions on the Lord’s Supper that those who do not “examine” themselves – who do not “discern” or “judge” themselves truly are not fit for the table. The whole season of Lent ought to be a time of honest reflection and confession of the darkness deep within. But that’s not where the story ends. After that we are to eat and drink – being filled with the glorious victory of Christ for us that the elements show forth.
See, friends, we are to get really honest about our sin during Lent simply so we can see our need for Good Friday and Easter – so that we can see how attractive and competent and heroic our Savior is. It’s not some marathon race that we get a T-shirt for competing in – that we can somehow take pride in. The Ash’s that some churches give out on Ash Wednesday have long been perverted into this kind of outward symbol that says that the recipient has done his duty – been a good Christian – and is seriously religious. They have lost their intended meaning to help the recipient realize that save from the work of Christ, he is nothing but ashes and dust.
So if you want to give up smoking for Lent – go for it! You will feel better! If you want to take up recycling for Lent – go for it! The planet will feel better too! But don’t do it under the guise of being a good Christian or of doing good penance or out of any sense of proving your worth to others or God. Instead – examine the real problems of your heart. Pray – today – that God would reveal your own nasty, pitiful condition to yourself – would reveal that you are indeed but dust without Him. But then eat and drink of the victory won for you anyway!
My hope is that these reflections will be helpful for all of us to see our need for Jesus’ death and resurrection. That we would be hungry and thirsty for His help like never before. But also that we would be filled with the victory won for us at the same time – the sweet taste of freedom and victory over that nasty dark stuff deep within each one of us that Jesus came to cure.
Thanks be to God – the hero of the story of all stories. Amen.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

Resolved to Be

So on Friday I’m doing the New Years day thing (sitting on my rear-end flipping between college football games and “best of 2009” programs) and thinking about New Years resolutions. I’m thinking: “New Years resolutions are sorta passé, you know? They’re so 2009.” But then an interview of author Gore Vidal on the Charlie Rose show catches my attention. I appreciate and respect both Vidal and Rose very much – not for what they stand for per se, but for their large brains. Anyway, Vidal is now in his mid-80’s and Rose asked him if he had planned for his funeral – if he thought about death – if he was ready to die. Vidal’s response was interesting: “I know its over, and I think it’s really about time, you know. Eighty-four is not the beginning of a new page…(but) I don’t know if anybody’s ready,” he said hesitating, “I mean…if there were anything up ahead…”

Rose interrupted him and they traded jokes to break the inevitable tension that the “D-word” always brings, so I’m not sure what – specifically – Vidal was referring to. But it seemed to me that he was saying something to the effect that if there were still something left ahead of him in life – another major writing project, etc…then he would not be ready to die. But there was nothing left for him to do, so…he was, in fact, ready.

Isn’t this how we live? For the next thing that we are going to do. The next hobby, the next vacation, the next project, the next holiday, the next relationship, the next chapter…the next page. And by doing so, we miss today entirely. C.S. Lewis in his brilliant work, The Screwtape Letters, touches on the temptation to live in the future instead of the present (with all of its intimations of the eternal). This is the advice given by Screwtape (an experience agent in the bureaucracy of Hell) to an inexperienced tempter:

Our business is to get them away from the eternal, and from the Present…It is far better to make them live in the Future. Biological necessity makes all their passions point in that direction already, so that thought about the Future inflames hope and fear. Also, it is unknown to them, so that in making them think about it we make them think of unrealities. In a word, the Future is, of all things, the least like eternity. It is the most completely temporal part of time – for the Past is frozen and no longer flows, and the Present is all lit up with eternal rays…

In 2010, I want to live in the eternal rays of the Present. The eternal rays of my daughters – not the “when they grow older we can…” daughters but Story and Annie – right now. In all their 2 ½ and ½ year old glories. The eternal rays of my beautiful wife and our life now. The eternal rays of serving Christ’s church in these days and in this place. And most of all the eternal rays of Christ himself – who is in every day – every hard day, every sweaty day, every freezing day, every joyful day, every boring day, every single today. So, my 2010 resolution is this: To focus on being in today more than worrying about doing tomorrow. To experience the eternal rays of the present.