Hero Worship

Nimrod, Genghis Khan, Noah, Abraham, Joseph, Alexander, Caesar Augustus, Elijah, Elisha, David, Solomon, Luther, Tyndale, George Fox, Napoleon, Victoria, Elizabeth, Henry VIII, George Washington, Kaiser Wilhelm, William “Wild Bill” Cody, Sherman, Lincoln, Grant, Hitler, Stalin, Eisenhower, Churchill, Martin Luther King Jr., Jesus, John Kennedy, Reagan, Mother Theresa, Buddha, Gandhi, Desmond Tutu. Each of these has her or his place in history; each is famous, infamous or both. Each has books written about them. We know their names, can tell their deeds. To some extent, we feel we can identify with them. Therein lies a rub.

In some way, as we read their stories, we blend into it. It is I who am conquering the invincible Persian army; Europe; the far, middle near east and eastern Europe; modern Europe. It is I who reign over vast empires or change the course of history with marches and strikes. I am the servant who achieves fame in a Calcutta slum or in a resistor’s prison cell. I become, for the few hours of the book’s read, the hero.

In the flyleaf of my first Bible, given to me by my parents at my eighth-grade graduation, my mother wrote: “Someday you will do great things for God.” This one sentence colored the whole of my life from then on. Looking back at that distant time from near-retirement, I realize that I haven’t done great things for Him. On the contrary, I’ve been more trouble to Him than hero in His pantheon of the greats. Now I know that His grace, love and forgiveness are sufficient. I know that He died for me just like He did for you. That is not the point of this essay.

In reading biographies and histories; when considering high-sounding and well-meant challenges, I find myself faced with a dilemma. Urged to do and be great, challenged to achieve, led by example and story to expect to accomplish “great things,” I find myself a great disappointment. I have lived an extraordinarily ordinary life: some ups, some downs, some accomplishments in a limited sphere, a dash of being known and recognized among some small groups, a bit of infamy in others. Nowhere in all my days can I point to an experience of either great evil or great good. Humdrum, boring, ordinary, are the adjectives that describe my life.

Enough whining.

So, what am I; what are we, the ordinary, to make of our lives when faced with so much pressure to excel? How do we deal with our ordinariness; our seeming lack of accomplishments? Are we to feel cheated? Should we feel we haven’t lived up to our potential? Should we do some horrendous deed in order to go out in a blaze of well-televised terror? Just how are we to justify our lives to ourselves?

Abraham Lincoln is quoted as saying, “God must love ordinary people, He made so many of them.” Of course, we quote him because He made profound statements, but he was also at the top of his game--president of the United States. Does being numbered among the “so-many-of-them” justify such ordinariness? Are we destined to be ordinary or have we just failed the greatness test?

At one time, I owned a crystal (the name of which I cannot remember). Its dimensions were approximately 2' long by ?” wide by ?” thick. The top and bottom surfaces were parallel, but the top layer was skewed as if someone had pressed on the bottom left corner to make the top surface slide up and right. The sides were all slightly angled to accommodate this shift. The crystal was almost clear. Holding the crystal over a line one could see the it clearly. Turning the crystal a few degrees, however, apparently split the single line into two. Rotating it further, the line would once again appear as a single line. This has something to do with diffraction, but don’t ask me to explain it--the optics are beyond my comprehension.

Perhaps, viewing our lives against the backdrop of a mother’s hopes and dreams; against our identification with heroes; against the internal dreams of wealth, fame and recognition, our lives appear as a single line--common and pointless. Re-oriented just a few degrees, each life dissolves into an alternate story. Hidden in its everydayness, perhaps, is a jewel of constancy, a golden crown of faithfulness, an unseen act of bravery, sharing, giving or kindness. Perhaps that act will mellow into a rich loam from which an exotic plant will grow. Perhaps the branches will produce a fruit essential to one, many or all in some future generation. It is, after all, in soil produced from rotting vegetable matter and worm castings in which we grow our food--not in a bed of diamonds.

We can, I think, still enjoy the biographies of great people while realizing that each of us-- in our own small worlds, unsung, unrecognized, unremarked--may just be great to one other person. We may not even know it.

So, if you, like me, have lived an unremarkable life, let’s join together and sing of the greatness, the fame, the glory of the multitude. Let’s look for that greatness in the lives of those around us. In the marking of it in their life, we may recognize it in ourselves. Even if that doesn’t happen, we can still know that, together, we make up the soil from which all greatness springs. We can know, in that small contribution, that we made our mark.

Live on in joy and contentment, ordinary ones. Look through His prism at your alternate image. He considers you holy, blameless, adopted, redeemed, forgiven, heir, priest, chosen before you were born.1 It is in His recognition of you, viewed through the glorious lens of His Son, that we have identity. In Him we are heroes.

1/18/12

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DogBoy

At 18 months, my second grandson thought he was a dog. I discovered this on his first visit to our house. The two of us were sitting on the floor moving beads along a set of wires. As we slid them along their track, he began panting like a dog. I can't reproduce the sound here, but you know what I mean. I'm not sure if his tongue protruded from his mouth, but it wouldn't surprise me.

Other evidences came from our daughter. "He sleeps in the dog bed when he's tired," she said. On walks with his father and their dog, Jack, he emulated Jack by lifting his leg to mark every bush they passed.

I'm convinced he thought himself a dog.

Over time, he lost that sense and realized he was not a dog but a boy. While I was concerned at the time, my fears were groundless. He's a normal nine-year-old now, confident in his humanity.

We, like DogBoy, often think of ourselves as less than we are.

We are not dogs, but humans, created in the image of Father; a gloriously high image, worthy of His love and the focus of His attention.

7/4/18

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The Face of God

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One morning, listening to Sheila Walsh sing “Open the eyes of My Heart, Lord,” I was pulled up short. Over and over she sang, “open the eyes of my heart.” The myriad repetitions began to wear on my brain. It doesn’t take much. I wanted to shout, “Stop, Sheila! You’ve made your point!”

Sheila, I thought, Jesus is your sound engineer, there in the booth turning dials and flipping switches. Jesus is the gofer guy who brings you coffee between sets. He’s the beggar outside the studio door, the harried CEO, dressed for success hurrying to his next business corporate takeover. He is the punk kid on the corner trimming his nails with a switchblade. He’s the drug dealer, furtive in the abandoned storefront; the pop star arriving in a limo and her driver. He is the face of your husband and children, your family and their families. He is the wild-haired president and the oriental despot tossing missiles around the Pacific. He is the Supreme Court Justice and the black gang member, the illegal immigrant and the upstanding mayor. He is the single mom working two jobs to keep three kids clothed, housed and off the streets.

“Mary did you know you kissed the face of God?” Sheila did you know you saw the face of God in every passerby, in every good and evil, righteous and immoral person you pass?

Sheila, do you see the face of God in the mirror?

Do I?

“Doing it to the least of these, you do it to Me.”1

12/23/17

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Life and Death

Farley Mowatt and his new bride traveled through Europe a few years after World War II seeking memoria of battles and stories of a time recently past. Farley served with the Canadian Army in Italy. Terror of war was rekindled as he walked the battlefield on which he was nearly killed.

Another battle, hardly known outside of France, took much effort to discover. Local residents would not talk about it; the memories were too fresh and cut too deeply.

The area sits high atop a plateau, protected on all sides by steep escarpments and reached, at the time, only by treacherous, unpaved roads. The French Resistance exploited its natural defenses from which to launch vicious and nearly-successful raids on the Germans spread out on the plains below. Their tactics succeeded to the point that the Germans were forced to divert troops from Normandy Beach to quell the resisters.

Finally, the Germans had enough. They mounted a full-scale assault on the fortress. In days of bloody battles, they finally defeated the partisans. Soldiers, resistance fighters and civilians alike were rounded up and slaughtered.

they found small cairns of stones along the roads labeled with the names of the murdered. They were grim reminders of a time when a whole nation became a serial killer.

As a child, riding in my parents' auto, we drove through lush green canyons of corn growing from the rich Iowa loam. Dotting the roadside were crosses; here one, there five. I was horrified to learn these crosses marked the site of an accident in which someone was killed. In my childish mind I saw five crosses where our family met their untimely demise.

The end point of a life, marked in France with stones, in Iowa with crosses are memorials to purposeful murder and auto accidents. Two autos, the wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time, the purposeful seeking and slaughter of war--is death truly accidental, a coincidence of time and place and circumstance? Is it a destined event, planned from eternity? The narrator of Johnny's Got His Gun says, "Somewhere there is a factory manufacturing the shell with my number on it."1

If death is unplanned, then we have every right to fear the next moment, the next car ride, the next landing, the uncaught serial killer. If my death is marked on His calendar I need have no fear; I am in His loving hands. I am convinced that He knows our time, that, as our birth, so our death is planned and anticipated. He gathers into His fatherly arms each at her appointed time and place. Some view God through this latter perspective with anger and dread. I think it is one more way in which He asks us to trust in His benevolent love. Like a mother singing a soothing song to her fretful infant, He assures us that He will gather us into His loving arms at the right time. Knowing this, having confidence in this, we can cease our restless fretful anxiety. We can relax into that awakening-into-His-arms which we call death.

Death is but the harvest of this earth, the fruitful harvest of life on this desolated planet.

"Since his days are determined, the number of his months is with You; And his limits You have set so that he cannot pass."2

"The LORD knows the days of the blameless, and their inheritance will be forever.

LORD, make me to know my end and what is the extent of my days; Let me know how transient I am."3

10/20/12

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Heaven is Not a Where

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Heaven is not a what, a when or a where; it is a Who.

Salvation is not a place, time or thing; it is Relationship.

Entering the Kingdom is not just being made whole or healed; it is the recognized revelation that one is already in relationship with the Who.

Some deny the relationship, some rebel against it, some neglect it, some vacillate within it. To Others, the revelation springs into a plant which never falters but continually grows toward fruition.

But all are held within the unfailing embrace of this Relationship; in the arms of Him with Whom we do or will someday relate.

The joyous passion of young love; the deep, wise love of the long-in-love; the highest ecstasy and the calmest contemplation; the profoundest friendships are but fragmentary glimpses, momentary views into that one Relationship which encompasses all others.

3/11/16

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Yin and Yang

Ida and I accompanied good friends for a two-day trip to the Oregon Coast. Beach walks, tourist shopping, long conversations were the order of the day. A frequent topic of conversation among us was the current dilemma within the denomination to which Ida belongs. Ordination of women has become a source of tension between regions. The response of the denominational leadership is to enforce rules on those areas which are not in compliance. Various punishments are proposed for those who continue to ordain women.

These conversations have brought the topic of unity to the forefront of my mind and therefore a topic to which I will subject you.

The Yin-Yang symbol is familiar to most of us--a circle with two tear-drop shapes held within it, their outer contours conforming to the circle's circumference, the inner one a curving line with the larger ends pointing in opposite directions.1

Yin and Yang literally mean, "dark" and "light." The philosophy behind the symbol is a concept of the complementary nature of opposing ideas or realities. In this meaning, dark and light are opposites, but necessary components of one another. In fact, one gives rise to the other and are, therefore, interdependent.

Setting that aside and focusing on just the symbol itself, we who take the name of Christ may see in it something which is holy and truly of Father.

In the beginning, Father formed human's first ancestor from the mud of the ground, then separated female from out of male. They walked and talked with their Creator in that garden He gave them as home. The key point here, for my purposes, is that God and humanity are, at this time, separate. Walking side-by-side, they can sense the other with all five senses-sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell. But He is there, we are here. We look to the original garden and view it as a destination to which to return. But is that a worthy destination, the highest good to which mankind can aspire?

when Adam woke from the woman-extraction surgery, he said, "she is one with me; bone of my bone; flesh of my flesh." Moses, commenting on this says, "For this reason, a man shall leave his father and mother and cling to his wife."2 Marriage restores the unity lost in the creation of Eve. One with each other, each gives what he or she has to meet the need of the other, her or his opposite. For this reason, the yin-yang symbol is often used to denote the male/female relationship; oneness in difference. Here is where Christians can find a vast depth of meaning compatible with our belief in a creator-God.

As woman and man come together to complement, finish and fulfill one another, so, too, do we, the body of Christ, come together with our heavenly Bridegroom. We, in some infinitely mysterious way, fill up our Lord Jesus. "...He (Father) put all things in subjection under His (Jesus') feet and made Him (Jesus) head over all things for the called-out-ones (the church) which is His Body, the fullness of Him who fills all in all."3

Created separate from God, the supreme act of love on the cross unified humanity with Divinity in a way which was not true from the beginning. Divinity became humanity that humanity might become one with Divinity. It is not a mindless unification, but one which incorporates individuality within the Spirit who is God. We do not lose our personality, memories and all else that makes us a unique human being. Rather, we join with Him who is All in mutual love, respect, purpose and being. What was once separated becomes one without sacrificing the one to the All. Great mystery indeed, but what a beautiful experience. Bride and Bridegroom united in holy matrimony for the benefit and joy of both. United we are one with our Lord Jesus Christ and find, in Him, that for which we have always sought.

We don't have to wait. It begins here and now, this being "in Him." The former things are passed away. Behold all things are new. Even that which was glorious and beautiful has been replaced, by the cross, with something even more beautiful and glorious. Jesus' prayer, "That they may be one as We are One; that they may be one with Us," is not a future event but one which was the immediate result of His death, burial, resurrection and glorification at the right hand of His and our Father.4

I have no solution for a divided hierarchical system which fosters rulership of one over another, of levels of authority, of leaders and followers. There is only one Head, our Lord Jesus. There is only one Pastor/Shepherd, our Lord Jesus. There is only one Elder, our Lord Jesus. All others are false shepherds, false pastors, false leaders who come in to steal and destroy and enslave. Therefore, whether in a denomination or not, the only true unity is unity in Christ Jesus our Leader, Pastor and Shepherd. To Him be our allegiance, our honor, our attention.

On that night which became the pivot of all history, Jesus prayed for His disciples. He said, "I do not ask on behalf of these alone, but for those also who believe in Me through their word; that they may all be one; even as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that You sent Me."5 His prayer joined those eleven men to we who have believed through their words. In an unprecedented request, Jesus prayed that this new human relationship would be incorporated into the oneness shared by Father and Son. What incredibly good news! How extraordinary that we, one with one another are drawn up into the very God, one with Him. Truly, the Garden of Eden is not something for which to yearn when we are offered a place within the Creator Himself. Communion is no longer a stroll through beautiful woodlands and over verdant plains. No, now, from that fateful night to the end of the age, we who have been drawn into belief in Jesus are in Him, united with Him, one with Him. There is no barrier, we are melded into Him. This is true, for what prayer of Jesus did the Father ever deny?

May we, His unified and unifying ones, find the true oneness of the yin-yang image. Distinct, yet merged; many but one; individually gifted but gifted for the blessing of all. Maye we be together as one within our Lord Jesus, the Christ. May we shed hierarchies, human leadership, man-made rules, cultural divisions, all that is not Jesus Christ. May we be one with each other and, in this unity, recognize we are included into that sacred, mysterious Unity which is Father and Son.

Sit back in your beach chair, stretch out your legs, dig your feet into warm sand, stare into the vast blue of sea and sky, listen to the cry of gulls, the roar of waves expending themselves on land. Let your mind comprehend this vast and deep truth--We who believe are united in an indissoluble bond with one another and with Father and Son. What praise can speak such unutterable reality? What song can provide melody to this marvel? What thought can truly wrap itself around such grand purposes? None. But we have a glimpse, for now, and that suffices.

8/19/18

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Job Description

After retirement, I started my own small business training other blind people how to use computers and phones. Prior to retirement, I worked for a State agency doing a similar job. When I began work at the Agency, I was given a job description. When I started my own company, I set out certain loose "rules" by which I ran the company. For example, I would not teach Macintosh computers--I had too little knowledge of them.

Working for oneself or for others requires clear guidelines about that work. Without these guidelines, wages, discipline, firing and a host of other related issues arise. Listed below are a few of these possible required parameters.

*When will the work take place?

*How much time is involved?

*What work will be performed?

*What is the minimum standard of performance?

* What is the consequence of not meeting the minimum standards?

*What product will be produced?

*Where will the work be done?

*How will the work be done?

*What remuneration will be given for the work?

In current US work policy law, these things are defined in a job description. Policy and Procedure manuals define, in ever-increasing detail, how the rules will be carried out in practice. Work requires a description. This is a key concept. If what I am doing requires a description, a definition, a concrete spelling out of terms, then it is work.

If, then, I find myself asking “What does God want me to do?” “Where does He want me to do it?” “When…How…How much?... ad infinitum," then I am attempting to place my salvation on a works basis. I am telling God that I will meet His demands and do them according to His standards and for His approval. I will, in essence, arrange an exchange between Him and me: For this, You will give me that.1

The Hebrew laws were given by God to demonstrate the impossibility of this arrangement. How does one know when she has lied, stolen, committed adultery? Jesus expanded Moses' laws when He said things like, "adultery is not just the physical act, it is lust;" "anger and hatred are murder;" "theft is coveting what belongs to another."

The Pharisees piled law on law for Sabbath-keeping in order to create a “job description” for this one work. They decided that carrying a handkerchief in the pocket required work to remove it, so they pinned their handkerchief to their clothing. They walked only a certain distance on the Sabbath. Dozens of laws were laid down to ensure correct Sabbath observance.

In my childhood, our family had an unwritten rule when we went to the beach on Sabbath. We could wade up to the ankles. That was the boundary of pleasure. I never asked, but probably should have, “What if a wave comes which is higher than my ankles? If I don’t avoid it, and it wets my jeans to the knees, will I be lost?” Absurdity on absurdity.

Faith, believing, trust and grace, require no such prescription. Trust is not doing but relationship. "I trust you," is the deepest commitment of one person to another. This is how He wants us to relate to Him. Trust is love in action. It encompasses and is required for all other layers of relationship.

Throw away the job descriptions and the policy manuals! Live in relationship. Live in trust. Live in grace.

2/26/15

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Beneath the Surface

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Standing at the tip of Cape Lookout, ocean stretches to the horizon. Grey, green, silver by turns, sunlight, reflected, hides all beneath the surface; beautiful and enigmatic. So much life, so much drama, so much physics and chemistry is invisible.

So it is with us. I see you, interact with you, enjoy your company, but I see only your surface. Beneath that which you reveal is a depth which I cannot know. If you are like me, part is self-protective, part impossible to put into words. No matter how long we associate, no matter how close the relationship, we are, at best, barely more than nodding acquaintances. What and who we are is hidden beneath a sun-polished surface, unseen, unknown perhaps unknowable.

Yet, in Him, who knows us to the tiniest atom, we have a Divine bridge, a Revealer of hidden things, a clear window, a door into that which we conceal. We become more transparent, revealing who we truly are and handling that which is revealed with loving care. We begin to trust, to open that which we so carefully protect.

How grateful I am that He opens portals between us that we may know and be known.

6/13/18

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Beneath the Surface

Standing at the tip of Cape Lookout, ocean stretches to the horizon. Grey, green, silver by turns, sunlight, reflected, hides all beneath the surface; beautiful and enigmatic. So much life, so much drama, so much physics and chemistry is invisible.

So it is with us. I see you, interact with you, enjoy your company, but I see only your surface. Beneath that which you reveal is a depth which I cannot know. If you are like me, part is self-protective, part impossible to put into words. No matter how long we associate, no matter how close the relationship, we are, at best, barely more than nodding acquaintances. What and who we are is hidden beneath a sun-polished surface, unseen, unknown perhaps unknowable.

Yet, in Him, who knows us to the tiniest atom, we have a Divine bridge, a Revealer of hidden things, a clear window, a door into that which we conceal. We become more transparent, revealing who we truly are and handling that which is revealed with loving care. We begin to trust, to open that which we so carefully protect.

How grateful I am that He opens portals between us that we may know and be known.

6/13/18

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The Road Home

"O Lord, Thou has been my dwelling place through all generations. From everlasting to everlasting, Thou art God."1

My wife, Ida, taught school for over 30 years. Her school was in Gresham, a small town to the east of Portland. She always drove on Division Street, a busy, fast street, but with many stop lights. Occasionally, I tried to get her to take side streets. "Mill Street ends up on the same street as your school. It has only three or four stop signs and only one stop light Travel is slower, but steadier," I argued. She would have none of it since she is a creature of habit.

My father, on the other hand, was an explorer. We always took odd routes, side streets, byways. Once we left the main highway, we traveled over a hill and discovered a beautiful valley full of palm and eucalyptus trees. It was shaded, an oasis in the semi-desert of San Diego's back country. Another time, we headed east from Highway 395 toward the South end of Mono Lake. This is a salt lake with a volcanic island in the middle. In our '54 Ford we bumped over rough roads, fording a shallow stream, stopping only when the road ended. On the sandy beach, small minarets of stone aggregate grew. They were about 18" high. Vandalizing, we took three of them. Now it is a state park and the stone statues have grown to over six feet. Another time, we left an east-west highway and headed south into the desert. Coming upon a sagging, rusty barbed-wire fence. A weathered sign proclaimed it the border between the US and Mexico. Turning around, we got stuck. It was a bit frightening since we knew what heat could do to the human body. We also knew, even in those days, that border-crossings were common and those traveling weren't always friendly.

The one thing my father and my wife have in common is that their road always led home. Whether traveling only familiar streets or whether it involved getting lost and stuck, the end destination was always home. Home means rest, comfort, privacy, familiarity. It is, someone once said, "where the heart is." Paul puts it this way, "...the mind set on the Spirit is life and peace."2

Home: Life and peace, where the heart is at rest. What a perfect definition of heaven--at rest, finally, within Him who is Home.1 Laying down this mortality and taking up immortality, setting aside this perishable and putting on the imperishable,3 we enter into that Being who is Light. We snuggle down, content as a full-bellied baby. We learn His language and begin an eternity of deep communion. What is now a vague shadow becomes sharp-edged, clearly focused. What we once intuited in muted experience becomes distinct and unfiltered.

Though we take different roads, we end up in the same place--rather, in the same Being. One takes the familiar, the other takes a rambling rabbit trail. One sticks to the routine and ordinary. Another takes the side roads, rarely-traveled, rutted sand tracks. One takes dangerous, perhaps even destructive, paths. The other requires paved streets with distinct lane markings.

All roads end up Home.

3/19/18

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A Far Worse Thing

"Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, 'Behold, you have become well; do not sin anymore, so that nothing worse happens to you.'"1

Jesus...says to him, 'Consider (See; Take note), you have come to be sound and healthy! No longer continue in error (or: Do not further make it a habit to stray from the goal), so that something worse may not happen to you (or: to the end that something worse should not come to be in you).'2

This always seemed to be a threat. "Sin got you into this mess. Stop sinning or you'll get leprosy." I've never seen disability as a prerequisite for sin, so this statement has always puzzled me.

A paralyzed man was once lowered into Jesus' presence through a destroyed ceiling. Before Jesus healed him, He said, "Your sins are forgiven." Only after He spoke these blasphemous words did He say, "Pick up your mat and walk."3 For Jesus, there is no difference between physical and spiritual healing. Within this, then, I find the answer to my question.

Jesus was not threatening a worse disease. He was saying, "I've forgiven you. Go now, freed of disease, living in My forgiveness. If you return to your sins, you will not live in Me," which is a far worse thing than being paralyzed. Let me turn that around. Living in Him is a far better thing than not living in Him. He is life and He is Life. Outside of Him, life is ordinary, humdrum, sterile. Within Him, all is light. The drudgery of the daily grind is electric with potential. We see Him in every petal, blade and stick. We recognize Him in every encounter, every homeless, every banker. We know Him intimately as he works within us moment by moment.

6/7/18

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Taboo

Captain Cook, in his log, noted that the indigenous people of Tonga used the word “taboo.” They defined it as “forbidden” or “sacred.” For example, certain foods were not to be eaten and certain practices not indulged in. The forbidden or sacred nature of a particular action was dictated by social norms and by priestly injunction. In the distant past, a priest determined that a particular action was forbidden by the gods then imposed it on the populace as a "taboo." A taboo broken brought the wrath of the gods upon the village which could only be appeased by correct ritual and sacrifice--sometimes of the offending person himself.

Through Moses, God listed a number of restrictions, including dietary, social and governmental. For example, the covenant people of God were not to eat pork, work on the Sabbath, touch a dead person or kill a person by hanging him from a tree. On the positive side, a taboo (meaning sacred) action might be to keep the Sabbath, bring an offering and wear certain clothing. In either case, God set up certain actions or abstinences for the whole nation of Israel. These laws were the ground of their covenant relationship with Him. In covenant, He was their protector, their source of victory, their source of wealth and prosperity. Offending Him in these laws was a curse, the obverse of His blessings; famine, pestilence, drought, defeats in battle, poverty and humiliation among the nations.

Israel interpreted these laws much as the surrounding nations did: keep them and gain esteem in the eyes of God; break them and lose favor. In fact, Moses said, “He who keeps the laws will live by them,” and listed a set of blessings and cursings for the keeping or breaking of the laws.1

Christendom is fractured on the basis of laws. Each new denomination claims to have a more perfect understanding, a more rigorous method of keeping the laws of God. Some refer to Old Testament law, some to New when declaring their special status before God. Some keep the Jewish Sabbath, some keep Sunday, some keep no day. Each is demonstrating their unique, more perfect understanding and keeping of a newly-discovered prohibition or injunction. It’s a quagmire out there, folks.

Determining the "correct" denomination is a search for an invisible needle in a giant haystack. One ends up inventing one’s own set of rules by which to please God, creating one more fragment of the Body of Christ.

Is the answer to come to some consensus or compromise in matters of doctrine? Is ecumenism the answer? Should we all form one huge, hierarchical structure under which to worship?

Definitely not!

Jesus, then Paul and other New Testament writers pointed to a new way. It was actually not new, but a lost, a forgotten way. Adam, Abraham, Moses, David, Elijah related to God as one with whom to walk and talk, a face-to-face communion.

Jesus called God “our Father.”2 Hebrews says, “without faith, it is impossible to please God.”3 Keeping or not keeping a taboo or law, profaning or honoring a sacred ritual, rite, object, time or space has no effect on our relationship with god. Rather, these are all barriers to that way in which He wishes to relate. He wants to share our meal, ride in the car, play a game of cards, have a picnic, hike a dusty trail, walk the beach, fly a kite, admire a mountain-top view, chat over coffee, have a barbeque, weed a flower bed, look for a lost dog, admire a newborn baby, grieve over a loss, laugh with us. His sole purpose for creating us is fellowship, not to set up a list of rules.

A husband who hangs a set of framed rules on the bedroom wall does not love his wife. Marriage is relationship, not rules. God longs for, craves people who will know Him as a real Being, one with whom He can talk face to face. Moses had it right: “Show me Your face.”4

Ah, Daddy!

08/10/13

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The Kiss

Mary, did you know?

When you kissed the face of Jesus…,

You kissed the face of God.1

"Reading” through a neurobiology textbook, I came across a strange illustration. The image was an artist’s rendition of the human body, obvious because it had the requisite parts--head, hands, feet, eyes, nose mouth, ears. But the picture was a gross distortion of an actual human figure. If an artist tried to sell a painting done in a similar manner, he would be laughed out of the gallery with garbage thrown at him as he fled. As I read farther, however, the distortions became clear. They were meant to convey information, not just present a horrific view of the human body. The torso, arms, legs neck and back of the head were small, sometimes tiny, in relation to the whole. Other parts, the big toe, the face, the fingertips, were vastly enlarged. The lips were largest of all, dominating the whole image.

This type of picture is called a "homunculus," designed to convey, graphically, some aspect of bodily function. In this case, nerve sensitivity is portrayed. It is far easier to visualize the facts than to read a list. It was such a compelling image, I still remember its details from 30 years ago.

No wonder people like--no, love--to kiss!

The lips are enmeshed in a dense network of sensory neurons. They can detect the slightest breeze and hurt in like proportion when struck. Their sensitivity is designed to discriminate between food and non-food. They are an early-warning system for dehydration. In all languages, lips change shape to form words, enabling communication.

Of course, the greatest, most pleasurable use of the lips is kissing.

It is obvious that I cannot kiss myself, though I tried, in Junior High, on the nested thumb and forefinger of my right hand. I can assure you, if you didn’t conduct this experiment, that it is a highly unsatisfactory substitute for the real thing.

Scripture has many instances of face-to-face meetings between God and humankind. In the beginning, He walked with the first pair. Later, he appeared to Abraham, Moses and many of the prophets. Then He appeared among us and we saw and touched Him.

It was common in ancient times, to kiss in greeting those with whom one was familiar. Isaac asked Jacob to “come near so I may kiss you.”2 Judas kissed Jesus in betrayal.3 Jesus remonstrated with Simon the leper for not kissing Him in greeting.4 Paul admonished early church members to “greet one another with a holy kiss.”5

The Western world has debased kissing to a mere prelude to the act of love-making. It is no longer that general greeting of all those within our circle of friendship. For example, one day my father was greeting church members at the door. My mother, coming later, entered and my dad, being nearly 6’4” picked her up and bussed her on the lips. Being the prim and proper woman she was, she scolded him. With feigned innocence, he said, “the bible tells us to greet one another with a holy kiss.” She uncharacteristically responded. “that was no holy kiss.”

The phrase, “face-to-face” in scripture can be interpreted as “mouth-to-mouth” or a kiss. Moses talked with God “face-to-face.”6 Paul says, “…For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known.”7

The God of the universe, the Creator and Sustainer of all, the God who ate and slept and walked on this earth and Who died for us, comes to us face-to-face--close enough to kiss in greeting, in friendship, in relationship. We, created in His image, when we greet one another, speak face-to-face, we are “kissing” the face of God in the image of our brother or sister.

What a privilege it is to be in His presence both within our spirit and in your presence, dear ones.

Face-to-face we meet Him in a kiss of peace and relationship. Face-to-face I meet and greet you in a warm kiss of friendship and fellowship. I turn outward and open my arms to embrace and kiss the face of God in my fellow human beings.

10/2/17

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1 adapted from “Mary, did You Know?” Songwriters: Lamont Savory / Buddy Greene / Mark Lowry / Courick Clarke / William Barclay / Wayne Buchanan

lyrics ? Capitol Christian Music Group

2 Genesis 27:26

3 Matthew 26:48

4 Luke 7:44

5 1 Corinthians 16:20

6 Exodus 33:11

7 1 Corinthians 13:12

The Lady and the tiger

A princess of Rome and a household slave fall in love. Such liaisons are always fraught with danger, sometimes for both; always for the slave. They are, of course, outed, and the slave is condemned to be thrown to the tiger--sport for the masses. The princess, however, in her love for the condemned man, intercedes with her father, the emperor. His concession is that, instead of one door, there will be two. The slave will have a choice in his own fate. Behind door number one is a man-eating tiger. Behind door number two is a beautiful woman. Choosing the correct door, he will be rewarded with a life of freedom with the woman. Choosing the wrong door, he will be instantly attacked and devoured. She sends a message to her erstwhile lover, telling him to watch for her signal when he is brought into the arena.

The crowd leans forward, silent, anticipating the drama of this new wrinkle in Rome's bloody sport. The slave salutes the emperor as is required, but has eyes only for the princess. She inclines her pillow toward one door. Without hesitation, the slave turns and strides to the door and opens it. The story ends. I first read this 1834 classic short story by Frank Stockton1 when I should have been doing homework during a study hall my freshman year in high school. I would probably not remember it over fifty years later if he had finished it with either the lady or the tiger. The plot would have been resolved and love or jealousy would have been revealed.

But, unfinished, the ending is not satisfying; a symphony that ends on the wrong note, an unresolved chord. Which door did she choose for her lover? The author forces the reader to confront himself in his answer to the question.

the star-crossed lovers have two choices--love and trust or jealousy and distrust. The princess, loving him so very much, may point to the door behind which waits the beautiful slave woman. Jealous of her, she may direct him to the tiger. He, trusting her love, may follow her direction. Mistrusting her, he may choose the opposite door.

I, the reader, must read an ending into the story. How much would I trust? How jealous would I be?

This is not the first truncated story to be told. Jesus, Himself, told an unfinished story. We call it The Story of the Prodigal Son." It should be titled, "The Story of the Prodigal Sons." Both sons were ignorant of the father; neither son felt he had their best interests at heart. Both felt cheated and wanted something other than what they had. One left; one stayed. The younger son was more honest. We laud the return of the younger son and the father's rejoicing love over the returning prodigal. Rarely do we comment on the older son. It puzzles us. He has faithfully worked for his father, but as a slave, not as a son. Uncertain of his welcome, the younger son thinks he will have to be a slave. Chafing under his father's mere presence, the older brother is a slave. When asked why he is not rejoicing on the return of his brother, the older son merely gripes about the poor wages and the lack of a party for him. He cannot rejoice over his brother's return, for he has never rejoiced in his father's love.

Jesus leaves the story unfinished, forcing us to formulate our own ending. Will the older son see his father's desire for a loving relationship? Will he see how much his father has loved him all these years? Will he allow the love of his father to break his hard heart? Will he come home?

We never know. We are forced to confront our own relationship with Father. Are we a slave in His house? Do we work to gain His approval or do we work joyfully from the experience of living in Father's love?

11/27/13

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This hymn was playing in my head when I woke this morning. Brought tears to this old curmudgeon’s eyes—a rare event.

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Try reading it with “We” rather than “I.”

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Blessings,

Win

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O Love that will not let me go,

George Matheson

Copyright information: Public Domain

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1 O Love that will not let me go,

I rest my weary soul in thee.

I give thee back the life I owe,

that in thine ocean depths its flow

may richer, fuller be.

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2 O Light that follows all my way,

I yield my flick’ring torch to thee.

My heart restores its borrowed ray,

that in thy sunshine’s blaze its day

may brighter, fairer be.

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3 O Joy that seekest me through pain,

I cannot close my heart to thee.

I trace the rainbow through the rain,

and feel the promise is not vain,

that morn shall tearless be.

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4 O Cross that liftest up my head,

I dare not ask to fly from thee.

I lay in dust, life’s glory dead,

and from the ground there blossoms red,

life that shall endless be.

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Choral version:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=biHQVoAUTtU

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For a couple of years I belonged to a house church in Vancouver, Washington. One song we sang was "Sometimes in the Morning," sung to the tune of the sixties hit, "My cup runneth Over With Love."

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My Cup Runneth Over…

Author unknown

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Sometimes in the Morning

Sometimes in the morning,

A while before dawn,

To You, Lord, I whisper

A praise or a song;

And feel Your life stirring

So deep inside me—

My cup runneth over with Thee!

And when in that moment

My heart turns to Thee,

The eyes of my spirit

Your presence can see.

And then in that moment

As sunlight breaks through,

My cup runneth over with You.

And then at the noontime

When I’m hungry and tired

And feel this old world

Weighing down upon me,

You come as my haven,

My rest, and my food.

My cup runneth over with You.

And then in the evening

When my thoughts are free,

I remember that You, Lord,

Still dwell here in me;

And I cannot hold back

That river in me—

My cup runneth over with Thee!

My cup runneth over with thee.

-Author Unknown

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Holding Hands

When I take my wife's hand, I experience her hand touching mine; she experiences mine touching hers. After nearly 50 years, the clasp is a familiar one, oft repeated, it holds the wealth of those years and the promise of a future. It is a renewal of vows, experiencing, again, that first love and all that has been the river of our combined lives--a simple touch with depth far beyond its simplicity. I remember saying something like, "Oh, look, aren’t they cute," referring to an older couple walking ahead of us on the sidewalk. That was many years ago. Now we are the "cute old couple, or at least, the old couple."

We are, says Paul, His body. We, collectively, are that which touches the world; His body, His senses. I doubt that we add anything to what He actually feels or experiences. He is, after all, God. But, through us, He, in some mystical way, touches what we touch, sees what we see, hears what we hear, tastes, smells, senses all with which we come in contact. That spiritual union between Father, Son and His body, is analogous to my holding of my wife's hand.

Relationship is like that, whether between two humans or between God and humanity. In Spirit and Truth we touch and are touched; see and are seen; hear and are heard. It's as simple as that; it's as deep and rich and full of meaning as that.

How beautiful it is that we are, collectively and individually, called "Body." Body we understand. Body is familiar. What is known by experience we can extend into the inexperienced, the unfamiliar, the realm of Spirit. How like Father to compress the infinite into the miniscule, the abstract into? the concrete.

Oh how good, how pleasant it is to taste, touch, smell, see, hear Him in the realm of spirit. This mortal clay is but a dim shadow of the relationship of Creator to created. Yet a shadow is impossible without a reality. What we experience opens a window onto the vast plain of relationship between us and Father.

To the praise of His Glorious grace revealed in His Beloved!10/16/18

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Not This but That

It’s not what you know, but Who you know.

It’s not what you believe, but in whom you believe.

It’s not what or how much you do, but to Whom you do it and why.

It’s not what you hear or see, but Who you see and hear.

It’s not what you say, but why and the One to whom you speak.

It’s not how much you give, but to Whom and why you give.

It’s not where, when or how you worship, but Whom you worship.

It’s not what you look like, but who you are.

It’s not where you are, but why you are there.

It’s not who you are with, but why you are with.

It’s not a technique or program or process, but a giving and sharing and living.

It’s not judging but loving.

It’s not performance but compassion.

It’s not law but believing.

It’s not how, but Who.

9/5/13

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Self and Other

Born through no choice of our own, we are entirely self-absorbed. Our hunger, our dirty diaper, our pain, our chill, are all we know. "Other" does not exist.

Gradually at first, then with increasing speed, we learn that others exist. Mother first, the source of food and care, then father, hanging around the periphery, making funny faces and blowing tummy bubbles. Finally, siblings and strangers enter consciousness.

The "Terrible Twos" roar into a parent's life, making them wonder at their decision to birth a child into their world. It is but another stage in the journey of differentiation between self and other. Saying "No" and throwing temper tantrums tests the boundaries of self in relation to others and gives a sense of control.

At four, reasoning begins. Cause and effect begin to make sense, another step on the road to self-realization.

Through the teens, with all its trauma and anxiety, we become increasingly aware of others--the opposite gender, the world outside of home and hearth, political and social trends. We move away from parents toward peers. We begin to focus on one significant other and exclude all others.

We marry, surrendering self to another. Physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually we allow another to invade our personal space. As much as physical bodies and separate personalities can, two become one. Then the two become three and the cycle begins again.

The ultimate self-and-other divide is between Creator and created. A bottomless, impassable chasm exists between the two. We, on this side, are but a small degree removed from the nearly-complete self-absorption of infancy. He, the ultimate other, is as opposite as flesh and spirit can be.

He identified with us, though. More than that, far more, He became one of us. He took body, bone and blood. He died our death, even the most ignominious death we could devise for Him. In any dimension we might desire to test, He became one with us. Pinched, he said "ow." Pricked, He bled. Awake late into the night, He was tired. Without regular food, He hungered. Holding His breath, His lungs cried out for oxygen. One with us.

Other, that ultimate Other, came to us, bridging the impassable barrier, finding us where we are and bringing us home to Himself.

Now self and other, especially self and other, have melded into one self. He is bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh. We are spirit of His Spirit, joined in that infinite mystery of the realm we cannot now see clearly.

But we know that we know that we know and that is enough for now.

1/7/18

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#Alpha and Omega

"Do not be afraid! I AM the First and the Last!"1

"Of Him, through Him, to Him are all things! To Him be the glory forever, Amen."2

I've avoided Revelation for 10 years. It used to be one of my favorite books. By studying it, I knew all there was to know about the end of the world. I could pinpoint with unerring accuracy the precise sequence of events that followed one after another once the apocalyptic ball got to rolling. Then my perfect applecart overturned and I've had no idea at all what the end time would look like. But that's not my point in writing this. I decided to read Revelation again, but this time, not for the purpose of knowing what Revelation was saying about world events, but about Him who is being revealed in its sometimes-strange text.

So, I was reading Revelation 1. "...don't be afraid! I and the first and the last the Alpha and Omega.” How could Jesus being the First and the Last have anything to do with fearlessness? If we were to hear His voice, perhaps he would say something like this:

I AM the First: I was there when that one sperm and only that one, was accepted into the ova that is now your other half. It was I who selected the timing, the precise maturation of that ova, the specific sperm which was accepted. I chose the DNA which was in each; the 23 chromosomes of your mother and 23 of your father. I chose your parents' parents and theirs before them and theirs before them. You are the accumulation of my plan; the outworking of a long blue-print that was intended from all eternity in My love for you. You are perfect just the way you are--all your quirks and foibles, all your wonderful ways of interacting--these are but expressions of my intention to weave you into my tapestry. As I said about the blind man: "neither his parents nor he have sinned that He is blind--it is so My glorious plan may be revealed in him, and so are you.”

“Don't be afraid! I am the End. As I was your Beginning, so I am your End. That last breath of yours will be held within my breath. Your last heartbeat will be in synch with Mine. I will hold that which is you in Myself. I know I've not been very clear exactly what happens after that last breath, that last pulse, but I will assure you: I AM your End. In Me, you can rest assured that you will live, for I am alive! I am alive now and forevermore, even though I too drew a last breath and my heart stopped. As I was in My Father, so you will be (and are) in Me. In fact, just as I said through Paul, “Of Me, through Me, to Me are all things. I am not only there at your beginning and end, I am there in everything in between.

I AM! Don't be afraid! I truly exist; I am Real. You are in Me and I in you; and both of us are in the Father all bound up with My Spirit. Nothing, not anything; not anybody; not any germ or physical illness, deformity; not any aberrance of personality or thought can be greater than I. You were created in the image of My plan for you--an exact representation of My desire for you. Your life is and always will be, to the glory of My Father. Lay back in the hammock of your life; have a glass of lemonade as you toast in the sun and think about that. Let it in; let it sink deep into that place where you are who you truly are. Let the fear be sweated out of you in the realization of this reality--this reality that is Me.

I AM YOUR First and YOUR Last and all YOUR in-betweens.

Ah, Lord Jesus, Holy Father; how truly wondrous You are!1 We lay our fears at Your feet in confidence that You are our First and Last. So may you always be.

5/22/09

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