The Snow on the Sidewalk

It's snowing again. I'm a huge chicken when it comes to driving in the stuff, but I love the way it looks out the window, when I'm nice and warm in my house. It coats the roofs with white cottony drifts. It clings to trees and bushes, and the kids across the street are tramping through it with wild abandon.

I was thinking about my faith life today, as I watched the snow come down. I could make the analogy of God blanketing us with his love like the way the snow blankets the landscape. But I actually wasn't thinking that. What I was thinking is how we seem sometimes to want to cover up our flaws and humanity when we tell the world we are Christians. We cover up the heart in need of repair and the hopes that have become somewhat twisted like the branches of the trees outside the window. Why do we do that? I read a devotional which said that we thought as Christians we had to be strong. We had to show the world how morally upright, sound of body and spirit and well, holy we were; so that others would want to be like us. Except we aren't all that morally upright. At least I'm not. And my soundness of spirit is definitely lacking. Which is why its important to scrape away the stuff that covers our sin and our brokenness. We need to show others how it looks to be a Christian by looking at how much we need Jesus, not by how nice it looks. We need to chip away the veneer of self-supporting righteousness and show our vulnerability. Why else would we need a Savior if we weren't that good or strong to begin with? The answer of course, is that we wouldn't need one. But we do. And he is there, just like the snow covering us. Except he knows our flaws and failures and it doesn't matter, because he loves us anyway, thank goodness.

So when you're out shoveling later on, remember that yes, God's love does blanket us. And even though we're as uneven as the pavement we're shoveling, we're still beautiful in his sight. So share that uneven brokenness with others, so that they might see the light of Christ through you.

I Need Jesus to Walk With Me

I was reading a devotional booklet the other day. I was looking for some answers to some really hard questions. The questions were raised after the Arizona shooting. The questions were not, "Why" nor, "How". The questions were not linear or even really put into words. But they were there in my mind anyway. There were more questions too, when I read that some folks were going to go to a funeral of a child and protest because they felt the shooting was a "sign" of something.

A sign of something.

Well, it probably was a sign of something. But I'm thinking the sign they're looking at doesn't have anything to do with a Savior of love. Or with a God of compassion and forgiveness either. Sometimes I believe the world has gone mad. And sometimes my faith is hard to grasp hold of and onto in the midst of these headlines. But I remember also, that I am not God. I do not know everything in all circumstances. I cannot fathom why such things happen, but I cannot fathom how snowflakes are all different or how the world was made either. Do the people who plan to protest know God so well, so intimately that they are sure what happened was "God" sent? How can you be THAT sure of God? And of humans for that matter? The devotional said this and it spoke to me, "...worshiping morality instead of Jesus is just idolatry. When I'm consumed with my moral performance and find myself obsessively evaluating the morality of others, I've become a believer in moralism, not the gospel."

I'm a believer of Jesus and I'd rather have him explain to me the things I don't understand when I meet him than have some rabble-rousing mob scream things at me when I need compassion and understanding in the here and now. I would wish that Jesus would be with that group of people who think they are doing the Lord's work and help them see that love is what the Lord is about, not judgment and condemnation which seems to be what they are about. I know that Jesus is with us, walking with us and keeping us in his heart, even if we don't have him in ours.

It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I'm a big fan of Christmas. Even the secular stuff. Okay, not all the secular stuff. The shop till you drop mentality is not me. But I like glitter and sparkle. I was a big fan as a kid making Christmas cards for my family of adding as much glitter as possible. It showed how much I loved them, right?

So now I'm a grown up. And the sparkle isn't quite what it used to be for me. I learned some new words growing up, garish, ostentatious, gaudy. They put a damper on my enthusiasm for sparkle and glitter. But there are still things I like to see shiny. I like jewelry. I like tinsel, even though my children insist that it isn't necessary to "finish" the look of the Christmas tree. And I like stars. I like to look up at night and see the velvet darkness studded with twinkling spots of lights. I confess, I do not think about how long it takes that light to get here or that it is some sun or planet that imploded years ago and will not be visible soon. I just like to see them shine. Especially on cold winter nights. It makes me think that there is warmth somewhere, looking down and reaching for us.

That first Christmas had the brightest light of all. I see it captured in paintings, drawings, cards, ornaments. What a wondrous thing that must have been to behold. Especially since there weren't any other lights to dim its radiance. No electricity yet. The dark night was positively, well, lit up by this star.

Aren't our lives sort of like that too? We travel in the darkness of our selfishness, our seeing of our lives without seeing others. We traipse down pathways, looking only at our feet, our situation, ourselves, without seeing that light that shines all around us. At Christmas, it's like we suddenly realize that the light is there. That there is something outside of ourselves, our cocoon of self. We see our brothers and sisters in a new illumination. We are reflected with the light of Christ's coming and it's bright enough to want to put on sunglasses, if we'd only really see it.

So join me this Christmas in your "shades" sharing the light of Jesus with each other. Make our light so shine before others, that they will wonder what our source of energy is and when they find out, they'll shine, too! Let's sparkle, glitter and glow together during this season. I brought my clip on's, how about you?

Hard Faith or Hardly Faith?

In our journey down the road of life, if you are a person of belief you will encounter something that scares you. It will be something really awful or awe-filled. Something inspiring or terrifying. And you will find yourself looking at your faith and wondering. And the wondering can be scary in itself, especially if you find yourself questioning beliefs that you have grown up with, or things that you thought you knew until this big thing happened.

I have trusted in the Holy Spirit to be with me through all kinds of things. I find that I don't question whether the Spirit is with me, only whether it is in the foreground or the background and why it chooses to be either or. Many friends of mine, especially during tragic circumstances have asked, "Why" this happened. Maybe they just mean why now? Or even why me? I don't think I've wondered why so much as now what happens? And I really mean that when I say it. I don't look for the purpose or reason as I'm pretty sure if I have to ask why, then the reason probably wouldn't make sense to me at the moment. But the what happens next...that catches me. How will we deal with this event? How will this assimilate into our lives? Will this thing that has happened make us better followers? Better believers? More aware of the God who is with us? Too frequently, it happens that we shake our fists at the heavens and pronounce that if we can't understand it now, we'll never understand it, so don't even both to explain to me, thank you very much. There is some kind of trite comment that says whatever doesn't kill you will make you stronger. Eww. I suppose that could be something you follow as a mantra. But what about, "I will be with you always, even to the end of the age." That seems more comforting to me. Or what about, "He is our refuge and strength, a very present help in time of need." Yeah, I can get behind that one, too.

So when these big things happen, either glorifying or traumatizing, and your faith feels a little wobbly ask yourself what you believe. Not why, but what happens next. And look for the others who are with you, your brothers and sisters in faith. They are standing with you at that time, even if you can't see them. Just like the Holy Spirit.

Reflections on a Crooked Cross

I was shopping the other day for a friend. It’s Christmas and I thought, since he has so many kinds of crosses to wear, that I would get him a new one. A different one. I went to a Pastor/Priest supply store. One that carries their outer garments, symbolic of their inner garments I suppose. Anyway, the salesman showed me several varieties. Some were plain, some were engraved with carvings of religious symbols. Some were crucifixes and even among them were depictions of exquisite agonies of the Lord or sublime serenity—he obviously knowing something we don’t. There were modern kinds, where the basic symbol of the cross was somewhat distorted and you weren’t really sure if this was a cross at all, but some amorphous blob of metal that a surrealist wanted you to believe was a cross. I didn’t but any of them. I left puzzled. I walked around the mall for a while after that and thought about what I had seen. The cross is a powerful image to me. For any Christian I imagine. Beside all that historical stuff, we know that the cross means saving to us. I never liked the crosses that I see so many times that are so perfectly straight and precise. My faith isn’t like that. But a cross that depicts the winding way of my belief isn’t true for me either. For the cross symbolizes the underpinnings of my life. I don’t like following something if I’m not sure where it goes. The cross always has the vertical with the horizontal crosspiece. I wanted to find a cross that showed that-- but differently, like my faith.

I actually did find the one I was looking for. The artist that fashioned it, pulled the metal somehow to make it appear beveled, but not even that. Guided somehow off the straight. It’s difficult to describe, but this cross spoke to me as a Christian. I am not always straight and true. My paths are usually pretty much along the straight and narrow. But life has a way of bringing along those not oh-so-straight bends and turns. And although my faith is true, like the cross of which I speak, it also bends and is slightly off. A true metaphor for my faith life. We are not all believers in the same way. There are nuances to our faith, shadings, shadows, life has molded us in ways that are unique to each individual. But the cross is behind all that believe, engraved, carved, or plain showing us that “God always comes down”, no matter what the shaped or size of the chain of life experiences we wear. So I bought the cross for him. I think he’ll like it. I wrote this down because even though I don’t own this cross, it will make me think of my faith every time I think of it. It is a cross of my faith, crooked, yet straight.

Matthew 16: 19

”I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven…”

I want to talk to you today about keys. What are keys? What significance do keys have today in our “keyless” entry world?

I remember my father was a maintenance worker at one time for a company. He had a key ring jammed full of keys. I used to sit and look at them: keys worn almost smooth from so much use, keys that were grimy and dirty, keys that were brand new and the teeth on those were sharp. There were keys to the lunch room, the locker room, the myriads of doors my father encountered each and every day. He had a key for each of those locks. If he came to a door that he didn’t have a key specifically for, there was even a skeleton key, one that could unlock any door in the whole plant. It was a marvelous thing, his key chain. It jangled when he walked and reminded all who were near him that he could unlock their doors.

And so we come to Peter. Jesus told him he would be given the keys to the kingdom. What an awesome responsibility! Keys to the kingdom. And so also do I picture Peter in his sandals and robes with a VERY large key chain, one that thunderously jangles as he walks the heavens.

We’ve been given keys as well, although they probably don’t jingle when we walk. The keys to the kingdom, even. They are at our disposal night and day if we chose to see them. You see, the idea is that each of us can unlock something in someone with our talents, our abilities, our love, out attention and even sometimes, our anger. God has given us each a set of keys. What doors will you unlock with yours?

Are you willing to share your wealth of talents (your keys, if you will)? Are you able to share your time (another key element)? Can you spare your wealth, in whatever form it comes in? These are the keys of the kingdom and we all have them, no matter how mighty or meek, rich or poor, humble or even arrogant.

What will your keys unlock and how will you go about using them today. That is really the question, isn’t it. Not necessarily recognizing your keys but using what you have to open the door to Jesus’ kingdom.

Jesus for Me, too?

What is it about the verses at the beginning of John 14 that linger and cause my eyes to blur? Why do I always get so choked up? Did someone use these verses at some funeral long ago and it haunts me?

I think the reason could be a little more deep than that. I have pondered those words for many years. Not hours at a time, granted. But each time I either hear them or read them myself, I have thought about what they mean. “Let not your heart be troubled…In my father’s house are many rooms. I go to prepare a place for you.” He meant the disciples. He was talking to them. But it has been interpreted as meaning a place for you and me, too. How could that be? How could there be room for me? Me? The reluctant writer. The foot dragging volunteer. The downright stubborn Christian. There cannot be room for me in my—our-- father’s house. There is no place prepared for me. I don’t deserve a place. I don’t even deserve a place at the dining table. But I’ve been told he accepts me there. I guess I’ve gotten over that part. But the dwelling place? Nope, don’t think so.

You see I am wishy-washy. I am not a bold believer. I go to church on Sundays. I enjoy a good ecumenical debate when I can get one. I’ll argue theology if you want a good argument. But I don’t get vehement. I don’t get in your face. If you want a fighting Christian, you’ve come to the wrong source. I don’t like conflict. I don’t like it when people don’t like me. So what kind of believer am I? Not a good follower, I’m sure.

There is a verse somewhere about Jesus saying that he spits out lukewarm faith. I imagine he has spit me out before and probably will again. But that isn’t what it says in other places in the bible. It doesn’t say he spits me out. It doesn’t say he hates me, or doesn’t care for my weakness or my failures. It states almost emphatically that I am loved no matter what. And I believe that part because to think otherwise is pretty scary stuff. I love God. I trust God more than I’ve ever trusted anyone or anything else. But don’t ask me to be the representative with the voice. The mouthpiece of reverberating fire and brimstone.

And so, I think I feel sad when I read these verses. Because I hope they apply to me and in my poor little not-very-brave heart, I’m very afraid they don’t. But I then have to remember, too, that there is a verse that gives me hope. And that verse says, “help my unbelief.” So maybe there is a place after all.