The Spirit of God hovered over the waters says the priestly writer of Genesis. Pastor Mark points out as God hovers over us, we are bound to His will to know Him who made us mostly bags of water. Scripture points out that deep calls unto deep - referring to the deep things of God crying out to the deep things of God already in us when He made us. And those other deep things we break that He re-creates. Some good R & B seems to have come out that place.
Solomon says God put eternity in our hearts, but it seems we sometimes get derailed and look at the local swimming pool for companionship or a decent lifeguard to come rescue us. When that doesn't work out, we seem to be drawn to bigger ponds and the ocean or other favorite waters where God called first to us. Orcas-like, we cry back a certain cry that seems only God can hear and answer. The sound of deep to deep sometimes seems like it is a cry of the mute to the Deaf. In that cry is a prayer, however. God often told his people Israel He covered them with His wings. Yahweh gives wings of eagle and the Spirit gives wings for the water.
I gave my own kids - when they were learning the ways of the water - their own inflatable wings I could strap to their backs so they would not drown. They could play in the water with me, one on one, lifted up. They didn't think they needed the wings, of course, but they wouldn't go very deep in the water. Jesus' friend Peter wanted to go deeper into the waters of faith when he wanted Jesus to give him a sign that Jesus was real in the water. Jesus invites him to be like him and walk on the water. Peter does walk on water, but then he loses eye contact with Jesus when he gets worried about the wind kicking up. Jesus extends his hand to Peter, chides him for not have an Orca-like faith, and they get into the boat together. When they get in the boat together, the wind dies down. Peter's problem wasn't that he couldn't walk on water. He did. For a little while. But the wind got in his eyes. Notice when Peter and Jesus together got in the boat, the wind died down.
It is easy to blame God over the waters when we cannot put him into the center of our lives, even when we are trying to have faith. When He invites us in by the power of His Spirit to come join him, we think He is asking us by our own power to overcome the laws of gravity. Really, He is asking us to fix our eyes on Him. He brings us to center. He gives us faith. He gives us even our own prayers to pray to Him.
He gives us our own floatie wings for the water: Another priest-like writer, the writer of Hebrews advises: "Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God" (Heb. 12: 12.)
Getting centered in God, then, is a making the first choice: eye contact on the Teacher and LifeGuard, especially when we have stepped out in faith when we think we are drowning. When the winds' war distract us and we fear, Jesus hand is there: above us, extended, next to us, extended, beneath us, saving us. Peter, himself, wrote later, after Jesus's death, resurrection and ascension that water is a symbol of baptism because it saves us. He advises get in the water with Jesus "to be born again, not of perishable seed, but imperishable seed, through the living and enduring word of God." (I Pet. 2:23)
Prayer comes from the deep water. The psalmist indicates how to pray: Your hands made me and formed me; give me understanding to learn your commands (Ps. 119: 73.) Jesus' deep answer is a command as well, "Come." Come to me all of you with trying to float with logs on your backs. I know the ways of the water.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
They That Have Wallets Full of God (Luke 12: 13 - 34 )
This night that came to the rich fool with full freezers, that also comes to us, requires our souls. The rich fool and the Apostle Peter got tossed up in the same night: the fool, caught up in his garages overflowing with bargain TP and cajun chicken breasts from Costco; the Rock, a passion to give up failures from over-reaching his humanity. The battle of being spirit and human in a material world crossed into the stars and the waves. For us, now, the battle is in our wallets.
Pastor Mark points out that the point of being so flung is to allow ourselves to be moved by God to give up our stuff in the material world - the stuff of life that predicts precarious attachment to our souls and belies our belief that we can overcome the workings of the material world to get personal power.
Learning to hang loosely onto the material world reveals that we need to trust the one we are giving up our piles for: Him and them -those living at subsistence levels. Trust reveals our allegiances: if we truly know the one we love, there is safety. And to feel more safe, more worthy of being identified as worthwhile, the veneer comes off. We're done stockpiling trust in our world, our stuff - ourselves, ultimately,
Jesus, a man famous for being the most alive, gets to the heart of the reason why we can trust: "Don't you know you are worth more than birds?" Give up the chase for stuff, for experiences for sale, chase Him into his neighborhood, his favorite vacation spot. It happens to be a kingdom of joy, peace, hearts stored up with memories of God breaking in, God coming through, God showing up and overflowing when a relationship, a job, a vacant lot inside, required our soul. "Now I seek cuz my heart's in overflow" is a spontaneous a song I heard today when some people were singing about how dead they used to be 'til Jesus came as a person to them.
They could have been singing about my bird who I thought would die outside the safety of our house. I was the one who, this summer, who lost our treasured cockatiel named Screech. I had been ignoring for a few days his need to get his wings clipped. He flew off my hand onto the neighbor's gable and then her treetops when I was checking on my son playing in the front yard. My kids along with fairly interested neighbors came and babysat under the trees while our freed bird sang breakout songs. I prayed mostly to get the bird back to recoup my reputation as responsible adult with my kids, not something to pull out from plastic, but a treasure, too, nonetheless. This was the second time I ignored the signs of wings popping out and the bird escaped.
I heard the Lord say, "Watch how he flies," in reply. I knew how he flew. Far away from my care and keeping into the very high sycamore across the street. I begged the Lord for several hours, trying to work up some trust. It was a dark night where it seemed my soul was required: if the bird didn't come back, what then? New bird? I think my kids were thinking, New Mommy, for sure.
The bird made a last half circle when I our tree climbing friends poked at him with a wicked rake. Schreech flew. But I got it this time: he flew in half circle, due to uneven, clipped wings. I was able to position my daughter downwind. Mid-circle, mid-flight she snapped up our jailbreaker while the Lord God Creator of creatures needing to be free was saying, "See how he flies . . . see how he flies. . . right into My hands."
God, we pray to trust you to give up our CD's, garages, freezers, vacation homes, our attempts to control the waves of our lives with bright and shiny things. Help us God to desire the Spirit of God more than plastic, wood and metal. You are alive. Help us make you famous because you are real.
Pastor Mark points out that the point of being so flung is to allow ourselves to be moved by God to give up our stuff in the material world - the stuff of life that predicts precarious attachment to our souls and belies our belief that we can overcome the workings of the material world to get personal power.
Learning to hang loosely onto the material world reveals that we need to trust the one we are giving up our piles for: Him and them -those living at subsistence levels. Trust reveals our allegiances: if we truly know the one we love, there is safety. And to feel more safe, more worthy of being identified as worthwhile, the veneer comes off. We're done stockpiling trust in our world, our stuff - ourselves, ultimately,
Jesus, a man famous for being the most alive, gets to the heart of the reason why we can trust: "Don't you know you are worth more than birds?" Give up the chase for stuff, for experiences for sale, chase Him into his neighborhood, his favorite vacation spot. It happens to be a kingdom of joy, peace, hearts stored up with memories of God breaking in, God coming through, God showing up and overflowing when a relationship, a job, a vacant lot inside, required our soul. "Now I seek cuz my heart's in overflow" is a spontaneous a song I heard today when some people were singing about how dead they used to be 'til Jesus came as a person to them.
They could have been singing about my bird who I thought would die outside the safety of our house. I was the one who, this summer, who lost our treasured cockatiel named Screech. I had been ignoring for a few days his need to get his wings clipped. He flew off my hand onto the neighbor's gable and then her treetops when I was checking on my son playing in the front yard. My kids along with fairly interested neighbors came and babysat under the trees while our freed bird sang breakout songs. I prayed mostly to get the bird back to recoup my reputation as responsible adult with my kids, not something to pull out from plastic, but a treasure, too, nonetheless. This was the second time I ignored the signs of wings popping out and the bird escaped.
I heard the Lord say, "Watch how he flies," in reply. I knew how he flew. Far away from my care and keeping into the very high sycamore across the street. I begged the Lord for several hours, trying to work up some trust. It was a dark night where it seemed my soul was required: if the bird didn't come back, what then? New bird? I think my kids were thinking, New Mommy, for sure.
The bird made a last half circle when I our tree climbing friends poked at him with a wicked rake. Schreech flew. But I got it this time: he flew in half circle, due to uneven, clipped wings. I was able to position my daughter downwind. Mid-circle, mid-flight she snapped up our jailbreaker while the Lord God Creator of creatures needing to be free was saying, "See how he flies . . . see how he flies. . . right into My hands."
God, we pray to trust you to give up our CD's, garages, freezers, vacation homes, our attempts to control the waves of our lives with bright and shiny things. Help us God to desire the Spirit of God more than plastic, wood and metal. You are alive. Help us make you famous because you are real.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
The Imperishability of Love on September 11
Ephesians 6: 4 -24/Psalms 11
Today's New York Times homepage features a question from a journalist: Do we need more September 11 stories?
It depends on your lens. Are you still too close to the tradegy? Are you healing? Have you just entered a journey of understanding the human heart or are you old to it? Closed to it? Done with it ? Down with it?
Pastor Mark ended the summer sermon series on Ephesians mentioning Tychicus, a friend Paul thought worth mentioning. Pastor Mark found his name worth mentioning again 2000 years later for the imperishability of the deeds he did long ago which reflected his Master whose love lives on. Imperishable love of a servant for a Master whose love is imperishable.
How does this work? How do you get love that does not show bruises? How does love live on in me? In you?
Funny how startlingly death of a stranger answers this: I was at Von's. Again. I need a parking spot marker with gold stars. A checker was interviewing with intensity the other checkers: "Did you know her? She was the one over in Oxnard. She transferred. It was so sudden. She's so young." Under flourescent lights where cellophane is pulled tight in refrigerated lockers keeping out any hint of decay on the red peppers, apples, broccoli or cheese, there was an outburst of death. The interviewees didn't seem to know the deceased checker, but the interview seemed to compelled to tell her story. She didn't know her that well.
We of human heart seemed fashioned for telling stories: our own, the ones of others lives that change us, invigorate us, tic us off. Paul found in Tychius a love worth mentioning. This begs the question from Pastor Mark's sermon: how does one love in life-giving outbursts?
David, a violent warrior, a lover, a father, a singer, a poet, a king and a Lover of God teaches us from Psalms 11 about the source of imperishable love on the day of our remembering September 11. When David was sick of running from evil and considering the evilness in the hearts of those in his world, he counted on God. He sings. He counts on singing about God's holiness and knowing where God's presence rests on earth. (v. 4, 5.) He remembers God does not forget the righteous.
David chose singing and worship as a lifestyle. The point was to not rest until he found a dwelling place for the Lord. (See Ps. 132.) Sounds like a man driven. A man driven in hunger for God, a man stirred up with zeal, as the prophet Isaiah put it, to make a parking spot for God. And God remembered David for his imperishable love. As He remembered Cornelius and scared him with a vision. God spoke to Cornelius: Your prayers . . . have come up for a memorial before God. (Acts: 10:2 - 4.)
There are ways to live. Ways to pray. Tychicus, David, Cornelius. Warriors of a type: servant, lover, prayer. Jesus Himself hinted violence does get our story told. Consider John the Baptist, he says. "And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force." Matt. 11:11 -13. Jesus has something to say about violence on September 11. Lawlessness creates cold hearts. Imperishable hearts seek a lifestyle of spiritual violence: a commitment to "taking much trouble, as the Warrior-King David says, " to prepare for the House of the Lord." (I Chronicle 22: 14 - 19.)
I am waiting and praying for a continuous, imperishable song, a new song, that is so inviting to Jesus that He will finish His story in us, on earth, jostle worship some, cause collusions of love that counter taking knives to the skies. "For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. (I Thes. 4:16.) The dead seem to be those that put the life of Christ ahead of theirs and love above all else.
I think I may have heard the beginnings of the song from the piped in CD's rotating in Von's: "Thank you, thank you, thank you, for the light in your eyes. . ."
Today's New York Times homepage features a question from a journalist: Do we need more September 11 stories?
It depends on your lens. Are you still too close to the tradegy? Are you healing? Have you just entered a journey of understanding the human heart or are you old to it? Closed to it? Done with it ? Down with it?
Pastor Mark ended the summer sermon series on Ephesians mentioning Tychicus, a friend Paul thought worth mentioning. Pastor Mark found his name worth mentioning again 2000 years later for the imperishability of the deeds he did long ago which reflected his Master whose love lives on. Imperishable love of a servant for a Master whose love is imperishable.
How does this work? How do you get love that does not show bruises? How does love live on in me? In you?
Funny how startlingly death of a stranger answers this: I was at Von's. Again. I need a parking spot marker with gold stars. A checker was interviewing with intensity the other checkers: "Did you know her? She was the one over in Oxnard. She transferred. It was so sudden. She's so young." Under flourescent lights where cellophane is pulled tight in refrigerated lockers keeping out any hint of decay on the red peppers, apples, broccoli or cheese, there was an outburst of death. The interviewees didn't seem to know the deceased checker, but the interview seemed to compelled to tell her story. She didn't know her that well.
We of human heart seemed fashioned for telling stories: our own, the ones of others lives that change us, invigorate us, tic us off. Paul found in Tychius a love worth mentioning. This begs the question from Pastor Mark's sermon: how does one love in life-giving outbursts?
David, a violent warrior, a lover, a father, a singer, a poet, a king and a Lover of God teaches us from Psalms 11 about the source of imperishable love on the day of our remembering September 11. When David was sick of running from evil and considering the evilness in the hearts of those in his world, he counted on God. He sings. He counts on singing about God's holiness and knowing where God's presence rests on earth. (v. 4, 5.) He remembers God does not forget the righteous.
David chose singing and worship as a lifestyle. The point was to not rest until he found a dwelling place for the Lord. (See Ps. 132.) Sounds like a man driven. A man driven in hunger for God, a man stirred up with zeal, as the prophet Isaiah put it, to make a parking spot for God. And God remembered David for his imperishable love. As He remembered Cornelius and scared him with a vision. God spoke to Cornelius: Your prayers . . . have come up for a memorial before God. (Acts: 10:2 - 4.)
There are ways to live. Ways to pray. Tychicus, David, Cornelius. Warriors of a type: servant, lover, prayer. Jesus Himself hinted violence does get our story told. Consider John the Baptist, he says. "And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force." Matt. 11:11 -13. Jesus has something to say about violence on September 11. Lawlessness creates cold hearts. Imperishable hearts seek a lifestyle of spiritual violence: a commitment to "taking much trouble, as the Warrior-King David says, " to prepare for the House of the Lord." (I Chronicle 22: 14 - 19.)
I am waiting and praying for a continuous, imperishable song, a new song, that is so inviting to Jesus that He will finish His story in us, on earth, jostle worship some, cause collusions of love that counter taking knives to the skies. "For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of an archangel, and with the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first. (I Thes. 4:16.) The dead seem to be those that put the life of Christ ahead of theirs and love above all else.
I think I may have heard the beginnings of the song from the piped in CD's rotating in Von's: "Thank you, thank you, thank you, for the light in your eyes. . ."
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Got Expectancy?
Pastor Mark blew the lid off our Western way of thinking two weeks ago.
I am still thinking about how he said our concrete world and our spiritual world are one. How we act when our kids shake the table at dinner and the milk spills over the tops of the cups (and a white tsunami erupts from the blogMommy) affects our life of prayer.
We learn from our first nightmare to deny that other world exists we cannot see with our eyes. Moms and Dads in an effort to keep fear away will say, "that monster is not real." Or they will pitch a "that's nice dear" to a kid aware of angels. A friend of my son's recently told his mom that he had seen Jesus. When his mom asked him what Jesus looked like, he replied, "I don't know if I could tell you, but there sure was a lotta light around him."
Expectancy comes from being that kid who actually knows Jesus is the friend who drops in anytime. This is the milk of life in the Spirit: expecting and receiving. He may throw you into a passing wave or make you so homesick for his house you want glassfuls of what He's serving: wine, water, milk, honeycomb soup.
Pastor Mark noted when you make that turn of wisdom that there is one dimension binding our homesick bones and soaring spirits, hope flows, life comes. You get a reason to press into fleeting longings. You take time back for the first thing you learned as a kid but had to unlearn to get along. We all thought: the light passing out of the corner of your eye, an angel passing, that movement from the wind, you think, is the one you seek and who seeks you. Nah.
I try to exercise expectancy as often as possible, praying as often as possible that the Spirit would completely take over me, so that He can be the Lord of breaking in at any moment. Maybe even breaking Himself to write this blog post.
But what happens when I have to drive to the grocery store? Am I still expectant? Sometimes. But the best part is when God rolls over from my expectancy from different hours and He drops something in front of me. Last week, as I was walking out of Von's, my neighbor from two doors down was diligently picking up pieces of glass and putting them into a plastic grocery sack. He had dropped a big bottle of wine on the asphalt. The red wine was spilling from the center of the parking lot down hill.
Suddenly, I felt as if this moment had a big highlighter being etched in space and time around me. The Spirit was impressing me: notice, notice, notice. I noticed mostly the diligence of my neighbor picking up each teeny shard of glass into his white bag. My neighbor is a retired principal and I recognized the care of a lifetime spilling over into this little moment. It revealled a lot about his character. He was an loving overseer of many children and teachers. Watching, watching, watching out for what could potentially smash a child at school: gopher holes, missing steps, broken door latches.
Later, I couldn't get the wine painting the asphalt out of my mind. Why, Lord, does this mean something to you? It took some time.
Last night, out of the book by Jesus' best friend, I heard it: you want to please my heart, know my Dad, know my Dad
(John 12: 44, 45.) He sent some new wine into the world. It was his best vintage. Part of Himself. His Son. He shattered against the darkness and His blood ran then just as it runs again for you in the Von's parking lot, wondering who would look for the shards of your heart still at this stage of the game.
He speaks.
Hope.
Live.
Expect.
Diligence is Mine, sayeth the Lord.
I am still thinking about how he said our concrete world and our spiritual world are one. How we act when our kids shake the table at dinner and the milk spills over the tops of the cups (and a white tsunami erupts from the blogMommy) affects our life of prayer.
We learn from our first nightmare to deny that other world exists we cannot see with our eyes. Moms and Dads in an effort to keep fear away will say, "that monster is not real." Or they will pitch a "that's nice dear" to a kid aware of angels. A friend of my son's recently told his mom that he had seen Jesus. When his mom asked him what Jesus looked like, he replied, "I don't know if I could tell you, but there sure was a lotta light around him."
Expectancy comes from being that kid who actually knows Jesus is the friend who drops in anytime. This is the milk of life in the Spirit: expecting and receiving. He may throw you into a passing wave or make you so homesick for his house you want glassfuls of what He's serving: wine, water, milk, honeycomb soup.
Pastor Mark noted when you make that turn of wisdom that there is one dimension binding our homesick bones and soaring spirits, hope flows, life comes. You get a reason to press into fleeting longings. You take time back for the first thing you learned as a kid but had to unlearn to get along. We all thought: the light passing out of the corner of your eye, an angel passing, that movement from the wind, you think, is the one you seek and who seeks you. Nah.
I try to exercise expectancy as often as possible, praying as often as possible that the Spirit would completely take over me, so that He can be the Lord of breaking in at any moment. Maybe even breaking Himself to write this blog post.
But what happens when I have to drive to the grocery store? Am I still expectant? Sometimes. But the best part is when God rolls over from my expectancy from different hours and He drops something in front of me. Last week, as I was walking out of Von's, my neighbor from two doors down was diligently picking up pieces of glass and putting them into a plastic grocery sack. He had dropped a big bottle of wine on the asphalt. The red wine was spilling from the center of the parking lot down hill.
Suddenly, I felt as if this moment had a big highlighter being etched in space and time around me. The Spirit was impressing me: notice, notice, notice. I noticed mostly the diligence of my neighbor picking up each teeny shard of glass into his white bag. My neighbor is a retired principal and I recognized the care of a lifetime spilling over into this little moment. It revealled a lot about his character. He was an loving overseer of many children and teachers. Watching, watching, watching out for what could potentially smash a child at school: gopher holes, missing steps, broken door latches.
Later, I couldn't get the wine painting the asphalt out of my mind. Why, Lord, does this mean something to you? It took some time.
Last night, out of the book by Jesus' best friend, I heard it: you want to please my heart, know my Dad, know my Dad
(John 12: 44, 45.) He sent some new wine into the world. It was his best vintage. Part of Himself. His Son. He shattered against the darkness and His blood ran then just as it runs again for you in the Von's parking lot, wondering who would look for the shards of your heart still at this stage of the game.
He speaks.
Hope.
Live.
Expect.
Diligence is Mine, sayeth the Lord.
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