Imitate

(Mom, Dad, and Gabby.)

“Follow Me.” (John 1:43)

   “We do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are…” (Hebrews 4:15)

When Jesus came into the earth, it changed the Jesus. Jesus has always been and will always remain God, 

our great High Priest, but, in His experience as a human being, Jesus was forever changed.

            When my parents' dog, Gabby was four years old, she was out on a "walk" with my mom and dad and she was running fast, full blast, through a field chasing something. She was a great hunter. Athletic, and had a never-give-up attitude.  What she didn't see, and what my parent's didn't see in the tall grass, was a left-over irrigation pipe. The pipe had an opening about the size of Gabby's head.  She ran directly into the opening of that pipe.  She was initially dazed. Then, she staggered away from the pipe, collapsed, and lost all

movement in her legs. Gabby was  paralyzed. 

My parents rushed her to a veterinary clinic eight hours away  where they had the capability of doing an 

MRI. The doctors discovered that Gabby had ruptured a disk in her neck and tore a hole in the sheath

around her spinal cord.  The doctors said that there was nothing that they could do. They

couldn’t operate. They just had to wait and see if the sheath would heal. My parents brought Gabby
home after a couple of days with explicit instructions to handle her very gently so there wouldn't be 
 any further damage.  

Gabby had a friend in the neighborhood, Duke.  He was about the same age and about the same

personality as Gabby, if not more energetic.  Every day Duke would come over and they would wrestle.
For about an hour, they would play together. They would wrestle and run and jump.  And on the day that 
Gabby came home from the hospital. he barked enthusiastically for Gabby.  Gabby, without lifting her head, barked weakly to let him know that she was on the porch, lying down.  My parents were worried because Duke and Gabby played rough and they knew that Gabby wasn’t supposed to move or be moved.
They didn't want Duke to paw at her or even to nudge her. However, they didn't interfere thinking that 
Gabby’s spirits might be lifted in seeing her good friend. 

Mom and Dad watched as Duke walked over to the porch and looked at Gabby. He didn’t touch her. 
He didn’t paw her. He didn’t nudge her or even touch her.  He just lay down with her, eye-to-eye, 
nose-to-nose. For an hour, every day, for several weeks Duke came and spent time with Gabby
until she could run and play again. Duke was different.

So are we.  When we imitate Jesus, when we get nose-to-nose with those Gabby’s 
in our lives we know that it will cost us something…and there is no guarantee that they will be changed. 
We may even experience loss; financial, temporal, and emotional, but we will be changed. And there will be joy and we will keep coming back, day after day after day because that is what love is.  And that is what Love does.
Amen.

Church stopping. Less doing. More being.

Quaresma

(Charleton Hesston in the Ten Commandments. Photo courtesy of Paramount pictures.)

Ballad of the Goodly Fere

            By Ezra Pound

Ha' we lost the goodliest fere o' all

For the priests and the gallows tree?

Aye lover he was of brawny men,

O'ships and the open sea.

When they came wi' a host to take Our Man

His smile was good to see,

"First let these go!" quo' our Goodly Fere,

"Or I'll see ye damned," says he.

Aye he sent us out through the crossed high spears

And the scorn of his laugh rang free,

"Why took ye not me when I walked about

Alone in the town?" says he.

Oh we drunk his "hale" in the good red wine

When we last made company,

No capon priest was the Goodly Fere

But a man o'men was he.

I ha' seen him drive a hundred men

Wi' a bundle o' cords swung free,

That they took the high and holy house

For their pawn and treasury

I ha' seen him cow a thousand men

On the hills o' Galilee,

They wined as he walked out calm between,

Wi' his eyes like the grey o' the sea,

Like the sea that brooks no voyaging

With the winds unleashed and free,

Like the sea that he cowed at Genseret

Wi' twey words spoke' suddenly.

A master of men was the Goodly Fere,

A mate of the wind and sea,

If they think they ha' slain our Goodly Fere

They are fools eternally.

John Eldridge in his book, “Wild at Heart,” writes: “Christ is no passive "capon priest ... no pale-faced altar boy with his hair parted in the middle, speaking softly, avoiding confrontation, who at last gets himself killed because he has no way out. He works with wood, commands the loyalty of dockworkers. He is the Lord of hosts, the captain of angel armies. And when Christ returns, he will be at the head of a dreadful company, mounted on a white horse, with a double-edged sword, his robe dipped in blood. Now that sounds a lot more like William Wallace than it does Mother Teresa. No question about it, there is something fierce in the heart of God."

Maybe we have forgotten that we have a rigorous faith.  Maybe we have forgotten that Christianity is not for the faint-hearted.  Maybe we have forgotten that Christianity is not, as Karl Marx once said, “an opiate for the masses.” While it is true, as CS Lewis has said, that in dying Christ did for us what we cannot do for ourselves, it is also true that we are expected to follow Him; and these forty days of Lent leading up to the Christian Passover is an opportunity for us to take our place with Moses and Elijah and Jonah and Jesus Himself.  There is nothing magical about the number forty, but there is something Biblically significant about 40; the Latin word is “quaresma.” When we think of “forty” we are reminded of all the old stories; The Israelites were in the wilderness for forty years.  Moses was on the mountain for forty days.  Jesus was in the tomb for forty hours.  So we give up chocolate and read the Psalms we do something; and whatever it is we do for forty days, in that time we rescue Jesus.  We rescue Jesus from being a gentle-hearted savior; we rescue God from being a sentimental weakling who will allow us to live without rebuke; we rescue our faith from being an opiate for the masses and we remember that we worship a sovereign and holy God and our faith is not one lived on couches by potatoes, but one lived by adventurers to undiscovered countries, and prophets to unrepentant people, and soldiers redeeming captive lands.  Our faith is one that will challenge us as well as comfort us; break us to fix us, and try us but ultimately bring us face to face with the One who has gone before us.  What will you do and where will you go in the next forty days for our Lord.  Blessings to you, Godspeed, and safety on Your journey. Amen.

Church Stopping. Less Doing. More Being.

A Look Back: Valentine's Day, 2015

Wow! Where does a year go!

(Photo from www.freeimages.com #683215)

Mostly, I have thought of Sabbath as a personal discipline.  It has been, for me, something I do on my own, like praying or going to church or eating less chocolate.  I know that this something is good for me even if it isn't always enjoyable.  Joy hasn't been the point.

But, maybe I've been wrong.

Maybe Sabbath was never intended to be a solo journey.  And maybe joy is specifically the point.  Maybe Sabbath is less like a solo discipline and more like a road trip or even a great-big block party:

       Set apart a tithe of all the yield of your seed that is brought in yearly from the field. In the presence of the Lord your God, in the place that he will choose as a dwelling for his name, you shall eat the tithe of your grain, your wine, and your oil, as well as the firstlings of your heard and flock, so that you may learn to fear the Lord your God always. But if, when the Lord your God has blessed you, the distance is so great that you are unable to transport it, because the place where the Lord your God will choose to set his name is too far away from you, then you may turn it into money. With the money secure in hand, go to the place that the Lord your God will choose; spend the money for whatever you wish—oxen, sheep, wine, strong drink, or whatever you desire. And you shall eat there in the presence of the Lord your God, you and your household rejoicing together.” (Deuteronomy 14:22-26)

It seems to me that the command here is to get to where God is and then celebrate with everyone else who has made the trip. Joy is specifically the point.  And if you can't make it to where God dwells, then invite everyone over and celebrate the blessings of God where you are. Only, be careful to avoid the BBQ if you are a vegan. Be wary of the punch bowl if you are a teetotaler. Forget about decency and orderliness.  The only command is to rejoice and to rejoice together.

Last Saturday, our family took a road trip.  Our oldest son was playing in a basketball tournament out of town. As luck would have it, there was a swimming pool in the same facility.  Our two little ones spent a lot of time perfecting their swan dives and belly flops between games.  My wife packed a gourmet picnic lunch.  We cheered wildly and almost won the championship. We finished the day at a Mexican restaurant eating salsa and chips and celebrating sky hooks and swan dives. We even had a little chocolate for dessert. It was a beautiful Sabbath, a lovely Valentine's day, and a great party!

I like Sabbath this way better: together and not alone.  In fact, I like the idea of a party better than worship and wonder would happen if we thought of church in the same way...as celebration..."you and your household rejoicing together."  I don't know.  It might be a disaster.  Someone may sing too loud, eat too much chocolate, or start to dance.  But, maybe in the midst of it all, we would laugh a little and give God some room to move.  Who knows what might happen if church were more of a party and joy was the point.

Church Stopping.  Less doing. More being.

A Look Back: Up at Night

Another flash back. This includes some original, beautiful art work by an original, beautiful artist..

(Picture painted by Jennifer Snook, 4/13/2015)

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.

(Hebrews 12:2)

I had a sleepy Sabbath this week.  It is hard to rest when someone you love is sick.  

He may have been suffering through allergies, or a cold, or both...but on Saturday night, our middle son was miserable with a bad cough.  It was keeping him up and he was upset. "I don't want to miss church tomorrow," he said. I didn't want him to miss church, either. He loves worship and adores his Sunday school teachers. They have class in the church tower. It is pretty awesome.

I wanted to make it better. I wanted to take his cough away. But there wasn't anything I could do.  So I just sat on his bed and held his hand.  We talked until he calmed down and was finally able to sleep.  And, finally, he did.  Before I went back to bed, I watched him a while longer.

I found myself thinking about God, sitting up with his sick children, watching them cough and suffer through life, unable to rest until He did something about it.  The difference between God and me, I mused (at least, one of many of the differences between God and me!) is that God could actually do something to relieve the suffering of His children. He could come and take away the cough. Jesus could come and make us completely healthy and remove all sickness so that we would never worry again about suffering through another sleepless night. While He was at it, Jesus could heal everyone, not only physically, but emotionally, and spiritually...and remove all selfish desire so that there would be peace and joy throughout the world.  Jesus could do it.

But He hasn't...not yet.

Instead, Jesus came as one of us. Certainly, there were those times that He performed miraculous deeds...but mostly, He just worked with wood.  Then, He began to tell stories in a northern accent to fishermen who had told a whopper or two themselves.  Jesus knew hunger and thirst and wept for the loss of a friend.  After a while, Jesus walked to Jerusalem where He surveyed His Kingdom from a cross, ascended into heaven, and "sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."  Jesus did all of this, it seems, so that he could go to each and every one of His children who was miserable and suffering and hold their hand and talk until they found rest. That gave Him great joy.

All I could do for my own son was sit up and talk. I didn't make the news or get my star in Hollywood, but maybe it meant something to my son.  In the morning, Sabbath came sweetly and I entered the joy of my rest and our son was able to go to church and visit with Jesus.  

Church Stopping. Less doing. More being.

A Look Back: Dust and Dreams

Another reprise, in case you missed it. Re-enjoy!

(This is the boat, my friend Pat is building in his driveway...it is so awesome!)

I have reconnected recently with an old friend who, it turns out, is building a wooden boat. He plans on cruising to Alaska once he is done.  Then, he plans on taking the, "Epoxy Empress" down the Mississippi.  In the meantime, he is a pastor focused on shepherding a flock.  I know him well.  I know that he is a great pastor, one that takes the time to listen to his flock.  He is also very good at listening to his Shepherd.  His roots go deep.

As I was visiting with him about his boat, the One who dreamed the vast universe into existence began to reacquaint me with my childhood dreams.  

I began to remember how I poured through the encyclopedias and National Geographics when I was growing up. I recall reading of tropical islands and dreaming of lonely mountains.  I saw pictures of lakes as big as oceans and deserts as big as countries and trees bigger than any other living thing in all of creation. 

I also dreamed of having my own sheep ranch and writing a novel and learning to sail...my dreams come like a heaving sea. 

But somewhere along the way, I lost sight of those dreams.  I started to listen to the background noises...the worldly voices telling me, "It just isn't practical to join the Peace Corps." Or, "The Merchant Marines? What about settling down and raising a family?" "Be responsible." "Be successful." "Get an education."

So that is what I did. I settled down, got an education, and started to raise a family.  I have chickens and small fruit trees and a mortgage and three wonderful boys that demand most of my attention....and I am so thankful for them.  But I am also married to the one who gave me, "Dove" to read on our first date; the one who toured the Baltic states in college and flew to her native Ireland right after graduation. She is a constant reminder of which way our roots point.  

Since becoming married, we spent a summer in Alaska and two weeks in South Africa. We've seen those great big trees and a couple of lakes as big as the ocean.   Sometimes I don't, but she always hears the voice saying:

"This is the way. Walk in it." (Isaiah 30:21)

As you continue your discipline of Sabbath, don't be surprised when you start hearing voices. Just when you thought your dreams were lost safely under a layer of dust, they are brought to light again.  Your world becomes less safe, but more vibrant.  Your days become a storm-tossed sea but at night you see clearly as the beacon guides you back to the dreams you had when you were younger; when the world was your canvas and you really believed that all things were possible.  

Where is He leading you?

Perhaps your dream isn't cruising to Alaska or down the mighty Mississippi on a boat you made with your own hands. Instead, maybe it's medical school, or writing a book, or living in a tree, or raising sheep, or painting. Why not?  To be rooted in Christ is to be yoked, not with the earth, but with an itinerant carpenter who likes to wear His hear long, drink good wine, and get out on the open road. Don't be surprised if you hear that still small voice telling you to leave Ur and everything you know for that undiscovered country. 

Our Shepherd knows the way.

Church Stopping. Less doing. More being.