How we can rise again and again

It was just a little wedding arbor up in front of the church, the plain wooden kind, unadorned, flowerless and simple. We wondered at its presence, but later on in the service we watched it take on significance as that humble little wooden arbor become a portal into another world.

We watched living souls walk through that little arbor clutching their signed death certificates, the ones that were on all of our seats, walk through that humble wooden portal from death to life in just a few steps all the way to Jesus. It was a victory walk they were doing, and we watched, witnesses to their commitment as we clutched our own certificates and renewed our own vows.

As the invitational song was sung, I had my eyes closed praying when Elaine elbowed me. I saw tears pooled in her eyes. She pointed left and then tears sprang to my own eyes as I saw a throng of people, as it turned out over 200 in our service alone. I expected several, but to be honest I was not prepared to see that many. I thought maybe there was a hidden door somewhere, because I didn’t know where all the people were coming from. The last one over the threshold was an old man, alone. Everyone clapped as he walked through.

My faith was in turn chastened, restored and staggered by seeing the redemptive power of the cross in action. And out of the land of shadows we all came, right along with them.

And then when Pastor Kevin said, “And if you want to get Baptized right after the service we have clothes you can change into, I will be there waiting.” That just set our hearts in motion even more. Watching people take that leap of faith in front of God and everyone never gets old.

After that we talked with our new neighbors and met their dogs, then later we took a short drive in the Motorhome which has been somewhat neglected due to so much time taken up with E’s care-taking duties. Soon after we got home there was a phone call from her Dad’s nursing home asking her whether to admit him to the hospital. He was thrashing around and crying out.

She left and walked into halls where death always seems to be waiting. Crouching on the sidelines.

Bus isn’t it always in this life? And Easter Day it seems, is no exception.

The day after Easter we are faced with the challenge of rising up right along with Him, of living out our faith story victoriously. We can only do that one way, and that’s by fixing our eyes and our faith on Jesus. Each and every day……we……must……choose……life.

Watching someone suffer and arrive ever closer to death who has not chosen the path of life is heartbreaking, and no one is more heartbroken than God Himself.

Who sees what could have been in each of us.

We are all waiting in the wings between life and death. But because of the cross and the empty tomb, we can rest there victorious, hopeful and fully alive. And if you love someone who is still living in the land of the shadows, never give up. Where there is breath, there is always room for hope.

The day we call Easter has come and gone, but the power of the resurrection raises us up again and again. Until that day when we see Him face to face.

And oh what a day that will be.

I brought my death certificate home and stuck it in my Bible to remind myself of what I decided long ago and where I am going after I leave this place. It rests there now.

Hope between the pages.

He is not here……

On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus…….

While they were wondering about this, suddenly two men in clothes that gleamed like lightning stood beside them. In their fright the women bowed down with their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: ‘The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.’ ”

Then they remembered his words.

While they were still talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.”

He told them, “This is what is written: The Messiah will suffer and rise from the dead on the third day, and repentance for the forgiveness of sins will be preached in hisname to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things. I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.”

He was thinking of you……

Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted.

He wants to take them up even now, He is waiting.

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed.

He was willing to be a loser in the eyes of the world so that we might be winners.

We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

He took the punishment and death meant for us willingly so that we wouldn’t have to since we were powerless to do so anyway.

He was oppressed and afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth; he was led like a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth.

He took the mortal death blows so that we could all be reunited with God and live as one happy family in eternity.

His resurrection gives us peace in this life as we await the next.

He could have silenced them all with one glance, but He took our punishment like a man. He wasn’t afraid to be misunderstood and misrepresented.

He took a false charge because He was thinking of you and me and our future together.

Isaiah 53:4-7 Commentary in between verses are my own thoughts in prayer while reading through passages.

Broken for You

I was rifling through the CD rack when I happened on one from my old church. The one I still miss so much. We caught a golden wave during those years when we worshipped there. It has changed. We have gone back several times and always felt like we were rushed out. It felt like a drive through service. Oh, it was slick and it was smooth and perfect.

No room for the Holy Spirit.

Still, I wasn’t prepared for my own reaction when the first song came on.

One minute I was standing, and the next I was on my knees on the cold laminate floor, hands in the air. With tears streaming, I remembered.

I had forgotten how anointed music sounds, how it affects you. And once again, all those years were back. All those feelings washed over me and something broke apart in my heart. Something inside me broke and I don’t want to be cold and unbroken anymore. I had forgotten how it felt to lose track of time just praising God and it felt……..so……..good.

I remembered how it felt to want to run down in front of the church again, that feeling of surrender.

I remembered how we would lay hands on those around us if they had a need, and how the Spirit felt like waves across the church. Holy……Holy……Holy.

No one should ever leave the church still holding onto a burden, but so often we do just that because we aren’t given the option, or we don’t take it upon ourselves to seek it out.

Yesterday, I needed out of control praise in my own living room. We have had to be too much in control too long, and it was time to let go. I needed the kind of praise I imagine the woman gave Jesus, the one caught in adultery. I imagine how she felt as she waited for the first stone to strike. Wondering how long it would take to die that way.

I imagine her relief as she heard a thud in the dirt instead and then a gentle hand on her shoulder, and an even gentler voice.

I really don’t think as He helped her up she just shook His hand and said, thank you Sir. I think she fell back to the ground and worshipped at His feet. I imagine she slobbered and wiped her tears and clutched at His robe that was dragging in the dust. I have a feeling she cried and prayed loud sobbing wet tears and wiped her nose on the hem of His garment.

And then maybe He helped her up again and smiled and gave her a rag to wipe her nose. And then I think she might have done a crazy dance like King David did all the way home, waving her hands in the air as her heart tasted forgiveness for the very first time.

I did both of those things in my living room yesterday morning, and it felt good. I want this rock inside me to break apart and stay apart. I want to throw the fish in the pan and let it cook itself and stay here forever like Mary, choosing the better part.

I realize we can’t always walk around a broken up mess, but I wonder why I don’t much more often.

Thank you, Lord. Your timing is perfect as usual.

We’re all Prodigals

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him”………from the Prodigal story book of Luke.

I wasn’t going to blog this morning. It will be a tough day, full of challenges. Elaine’s Mom will be moving into her new home today. When everything is done, the tidal wave of emotion will come, but not yet. There is too much to do.

I was trying to think of a word for this year, and right away the word, faithfulness came. After that, it was restoration. Then it was committment. So maybe I don’t have a word yet for this year and that’s okay. I have always had a problem with too many choices. Maybe later today God will bring forth a winning word, but right now the thing that drove me to the keyboard was the idea that wouldn’t let itself rest:

We are all prodigals.

I thought how we all tend to distance ourselves from the story of the prodigal; as if we never came back to God ourselves. Yeah, right. Every single one of us belonged to God first. We were His children from the beginning. None of us is coming to Him for the first time, we are all making our way back to Him. I don’t know about you, but I had to wallow in a few pigsty’s before I came back.

So the question I pose today is, “What’s your pigsty?”

Before I came back, I worshipped many years at the temple of self-indulgence, rebellion, self-hate, anxiety, fear……you name it, I rolled in it.

I played the role of Superhero when I selfishly and recklessly withheld food from my own body, the healthy body He gave me. I proved myself a rotten steward. But He didn’t forget me. Through the prayers of my parents and others He brought me back. Then he and I had the long work of restoration together.

I spent time in the haze of alcohol dousing grief and guilt, and then after the grief disappeared the desire for alcohol didn’t. That was another pigsty I had to climb out of.

And the truth is, life is a continual process of coming home, coming back to Him. Jesus came to this earth to love those living in the pigsty, and until we get comfortable loving those who have been there, or are there still, we will never be of any use to the Kingdom.

He sees us as washed and cleansed and healed, how we could be, how we will be.

But until then, each one of us is that lost son or daughter, walking on our own dusty road home toward our Father’s kingdom.

And He waits for each one of us with open arms.

Spirituality versus Religion

There was a song by Aaron Tippin called, “You’ve got to stand for something, or you’ll fall for anything.” I was thinking of these lyrics the other day when I heard about the study done just recently in England. The study was done on people who readily identified themselves as “Spiritual” as opposed to those affiliated with an established “Religious framework.” This one concluding statement encapsulates the results of their findings:

“People who have a spiritual understanding of life in the absence of a religious framework are vulnerable to mental disorder.”

I usually take studies with a grain of salt. I think we take too many studies that mean nothing. We waste money we don’t have on studies that most people will never know about. However, this one I found interesting because in the last 10 or 20 years I have noticed that “spiritual” demographic growing. I couldn’t count the many times I have heard it in conversation. It is somehow okay and permissible to be “spiritual” but not okay to be “religious” and especially not Christian. That stirs all kinds of moral and ethical questions we would rather not deal with. So being spiritual is for many a good alternative.

But there is a problem with being just “spiritual.” There is no one definition or set of values associated with it. Or is there? I have noticed some things about people who embrace spirituality but not any form of organized religion or belief system. They usually say that all religions are the same. Or they reject it altogether.

They also say that there are many paths to God and that all religions lead there. And if they are not religious at all, they will say that as long as they follow what they define as right they will be okay in the end. So if they follow some golden rule of ethics and rules of conduct they will measure up to God’s standards. But they are not really sure who God is either. They reject the idea of the God of the Bible, because what they have heard or read about that God seems mean, vengeful and outdated.

Their God is better. He is more manageable, more palatable. He doesn’t expect them to do anything except be themselves. He is a big, fluffy fuzzball of love. And being Spiritual doesn’t cost them a thing. And the thing is, I can understand why they have arrived there.

I am afraid for this group. I know some people in it. Too many people. And far too many of our young people. Sorry to say, many of them have watched their parents who have been lifelong churchgoers. They have seen a cheap and easy grace and a faith that makes little or no impact on how they live their lives.

Yesterday sitting in church, I felt just a little bit like Paul felt. My heart ached for those without roots. Those who think they are so solid in their belief system they convince others to go down the same shaky path. They are seeking the peace and rest that only Jesus can provide. I want to tell them their desire to be spiritual is right. It has been grafted into all of our hearts like a seed, planted by none other than God himself.

But Jesus is the only one who can make it grow.

I want to tell them how incredibly good it is to love God. And how nothing in this world compares to the joy of knowing He loves me and there is nothing He wouldn’t do to reach them……. just like He has reached me.

I want to tell them not to hang their whole eternal destination on a false definition of Christianity, on what they perceive about Christians.

Because one glimpse of Jesus is all they need. One glimpse of God on a cross silences any argument we could ever have about whether or not God loves us.

The roots of the cross go deeper than anything this world has to offer.

Meet me today at the foot of it with Jesus.

We can heal together.

Of missed Messiahs and plans that don’t gel

The mouse hovered over rental car sites but as yet no reservation has been made for the Christmas trip. She hovered over an ad for the Messiah and I said, “Let’s go……..Friday night it’s at the Mesa Arts Center.” She said, “You can just meet me there after work.” It’s one of our favorite things to do around Christmas.

“But what about your Mom, would she be okay here after dark?”

“Probably not,” she said. And as 29 seconds were left on the timer, she unclicked the button that would have reserved our seats in the mezzanine, right on the end. We sighed again for one more thing we missed out on this year.

The truth is, sometimes Christmas is made up of “missed Messiah’s” and “plans not set.” But Christmas has a way of coming anyway. So we find joy in the little moments of the season. Sitting by the tree in the mornings, listening to Christmas music, ushers in peace before the clatter and commotion of the day. Watching the cats play around under it………Seeing angels and bells and stars take shape in the oven as the smell fills the house.

And one day after Christmas, all this rushing around will cease to matter. I was reminded yesterday what does matter. The cross is what matters.

We look to His birth and resurrection and while those are wonderful miraculous events, what really speaks to us is His suffering on the cross. We look at Jesus pain and can no longer ignore the fact that He sees our pain too.

It is only at the cross that we see the great magnitude and depth of His love for us. You can hardly ignore a naked, dying man on a cross. And as Louie Giglio said in his message yesterday, our own pain is the megaphone through which the world learns about Christ.

And while we celebrate His birth, the cross is what continues to speak the loudest. And when we compare our pain to His all of our arguments fall silent.

When we gaze at Jesus on the cross, we can no longer say that we have a God who is unwilling or un able to enter into our greatest pain.

He is and He does, every single day.

A voice cries:
“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord;
    make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be lifted up,
    and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
    and the rough places a plain.
And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
    and all flesh shall see it together,
    for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”

Isaiah 40:3-5

New every morning

It always amazes me, that we can feel……have…..know, the power of the resurrection each new morning. I didn’t feel very resurrected this morning at all, when I climbed into my sweats and went out to pray in the half light. But by the time I came out? I was a new creation. And once again I felt Easter. Each day somehow we get the strength to get up and do it all over again.

That’s the power of the resurrection, the power of the cross, the power of the empty tomb! Hallelujah……

I offer this poem to you this morning…….It moved me:

Psalm by Thomas Merton

When no one listens to the quiet trees,

when no one notices the sun in the pool

When no one feels the first drop of rain

Or sees the last star

Or hails the first morning

Of a giant world

Where peace begins and rages end:

One bird sits still

Watching the work of God:

one turning leaf,

two falling blossoms,

Ten circles upon the pond……..

from Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander…..full poem available there.

Lori's Prayer Closet

"And when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done is secret, will reward you……"Matthew 6:6

New life in Christ