Jean

A Holy Wonder

Dear friends, this week we start our journey through the life of Christ, and of course, we begin with Advent. I’m amazed with each new year just how many people are drawn to observe Advent. There are Christians and non-Christians who experience the longing and a deep ache for a time and a place apart. I think we all want the same thing. We want to know hope, and peace and joy and love and we want to experience their fullness. Christians alone, however, have a name for that longing. We call it the Incarnation – the birth of a child who will rescue a dark and angry world from its remorse and regret and who will do so in astonishing and “awe-ful” ways.

Our world is so jaded, and social media has done us no favors because we are presented with constant idealized images of perfect gifts, decorations and company. We turn to Christmas movies and songs and traditions in hopes of finding a way out of our cynicism and weariness.

Last year as I reflected and wrote, the call for Advent to be a penitential season struck me. Catholic and Eastern Orthodox traditions have historically been much better than other traditions at emphasizing that. Advent like Lent should be a time to ask the Holy Spirit to help us prepare our hearts for the coming of the Lord, by acknowledging and confessing our sins and great need for grace and forgiveness.

Yet this year, I have been drawn back into the wonder and incredible mystery of Christ’s coming to dwell with us and among us and in us. In this season of Advent I want to draw on the experience of wonder and awe in the face of hardships and trials.

“The central miracle asserted by Christians is the Incarnation. They say that God became Man. Every other miracle prepares for this, or exhibits this, or results from this. Just as every natural event is the manifestation at a particular place and moment of Nature’s total character, so every particular Christian miracle manifests at a particular place and moment the character and significance of the Incarnation.” (C.S. Lewis)

Miracles call for wonder – for the imagination to dwell on the unknown, the unbelievable, and the unfathomable. We shake our heads and say to ourselves – “I never knew it could be like that…” Wonder is the natural habitat of the child who has not had time to become jaded or cynical! Lewis Carroll called the one who delighted in the childlike – ” the child of the pure unclouded brow and dreaming eyes of wonder!” (Through the Looking Glass, 1865). I know several people like this – but sadly would not count myself as one of them.

A good friend of mine shared a story when as a young mother she had a job cleaning a Catholic church. Part of her responsibility was to vacuum the sanctuary. She had been a Christian only a short time and had no idea what she should do as she cleaned the aisle between the seats and before the altar. She knew vaguely that their tradition was very different from her own and that there might be specific rituals called for in their sanctuaries. So, she put a tissue on her head, and as she vacuumed the rows of seats whenever she reached the aisle she would genuflect before the crucifix. She would bow every time she moved across the rows! There was not an ounce of legalism in what she did – and as she told this story, it made her hearers smile and chuckle; mostly because this was typical for her. She delighted in the simple (but alien to her!) ritual whether demanded of her or not.

One of my favorite commercials from several years ago that aired during December pictures for me the essence of Advent joy. There are 3 (maybe 4) children seated on a couch in front of a fire; their stockings hung on the mantle above. The scene shows their glee and unbridled joy at waiting for Santa to come and fill their stockings. Before long though they had fallen asleep, in the dark, with the smoldering ashes of an almost extinguished fire. Ah… the weary waiting… I can barely remember what the commercial was for – except that each one of these children had a headlamp around their head! So as the night deepened and the fire dwindled – all you could really see were four flashlights glowing in all different directions as they fell asleep! I suppose the commercial was about batteries but for me it was about Advent, and excitement and waiting and the anticipation of miracle!

Wonder, in many ways, is like a sixth sense. Leanne Payne described it as an “intuition of the real” – the substance of which is neither strictly tangible or objective nor feeling-based or subjective. It’s a way our souls (and bodies) react to something unfathomable in the world around us.

At the heart of wonder is the experience of being drawn beyond ourselves. It is about an awestruck encounter with ‘otherness’…
Mike Starkey

Mike Starkey writes that “at the heart of wonder is the experience of being drawn beyond ourselves. It is about an awestruck encounter with ‘otherness’; with people who are different from us with a world full of unexpected marvels, a God who draws us beyond the trivia of our own expectations.” [1]

To embrace mystery (and so encounter wonder) means we are stirred by “otherness;” especially when it comes to God, and even our understanding of the Incarnation is so other than any thing we could have ever imagined. We can marvel at the baby in the straw even though we know His end. We marvel not only at the strangeness of this, but at the knowledge that the Creator of heaven and earth, so loved us, that He sent his Son to die for us. Not even the noblest of humans could have done that.

Awe is another name for wonder. True wonder is not naïve – nor dependent on children watching a fireplace late into the night on Christmas Eve. Instead, it is the inner knowledge of the miracle of the Incarnation that ignites wonder in us. It was wonder the shepherds experienced in hearing the voice of the angel. The wise men followed the star “rejoicing exceedingly with great joy” (Mat. 2:10), because they held awe and wonder in their hearts. Even the animals in the stable knelt in awe before the new-born king. (ok – this is probably a stretch but who knows!)

Wonder endures when it is rooted in worship. It is not dependent on our circumstances or our introspections.

Many of the beloved Christmas carols we sing this time of year were written in times of war or great tragedy. We’ve sanitized them though, singing along with Michael Bublé’s version of “I Heard the Bells”, as we walk the malls on Black Friday. Christmas Bells was a poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow after a long season of personal tragedies. The last of these tragedies was nursing his son back to health after fighting in the Civil War. That Christmas morning in 1863, he heard the bells and despaired over the absence of “peace on earth and goodwill toward men.” “He cried out, ‘Where is peace?’ He looked around and saw hate, despair, all mocking the idea of peace. But as the bells continued to ring, he was reminded that God was not dead or asleep and that there was still hope for personal and national peace. The poem he wrote included two or three verses directly referencing the Civil War. When the poem was set to music several years later, those verses were omitted from the carol.” (War-Time Christmas Carols, https://amusicmom.com/war-time-christmas-carols).

The opening scene of my all-time favorite Christmas movie (White Christmas) begins with the sounds and sights of warfare. It’s Christmas Eve and Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye are singing “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas” against a stage backdrop of a snowy winter’s day. They move on to honor their general who is leaving the front but before they are done they hear enemy fire and soon bombs drop and battle disperses the hope of Christmas. It was war that was the true backdrop of the song and not the crafted painted scene of a New England winter’s day. Awe is made sweet often at times because it is fragile, and its object is often threatened. The enemy would dash both our hopes and our longings. The birth of Christ that day in a stable revealed just how fragile life is. He came not as the warrior-king His people hoped for, but as a vulnerable, frail and weak infant.

1 Chr. 16: 12-17 – Remember the wonders he has done, his miracles, and the judgments he pronounced, O descendants of Israel his servant, O sons of Jacob, his chosen ones. He is the LORD our God; his judgments are in all the earth. He remembers his covenant forever, the word he commanded, for a thousand generations, the covenant he made with Abraham, the oath he swore to Isaac. He confirmed it to Jacob as a decree, to Israel as an everlasting covenant.” Such an incredible truth for a people who often fell away and had forgotten their own covenant. It is the same with us, is it not?

I think what sets us apart as Christians from the world around us is that we can hold on to awe even in the midst of dark circumstances. It is indeed a weary world we live in, and we are so often buffeted by storms and trials, but our hope is sure and fast. Wonder thrives where there is hope.

“Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel” (Luke 2:29-32).

My hero in Luke’s story of the birth of Christ is Simeon. Every year when I read of his encounter with his Messiah I am filled with awe – at his prescience, at his wisdom, and at his wonder. His words are often the last prayer of some traditions’ evening service – compline. “Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel” (Luke 2:29-32). He had spent decades waiting for “the consolation of Israel” to appear and now he held him in his arms. Now his hope was realized – now his wonder complete. As he “took him in his arms… he praised God…” (verse 28).

And so it can be with us. Let’s enter Advent with wonder in our hearts. Let’s let it simmer in our hearts, let’s light the candles and sing the music. For our Savior has come and will come again. May our worship be full of awe and wonder.

“A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks the new and glorious morn”.

[1] Mark Starkey, Restoring the Wonder (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge), 1999. P. 31.

If you’re inclined here is a version of “I Heard The Bells on Christmas Day” set against the background of the civil war.

How Beauty Transforms Suffering

In the blog post I haven’t written yet, I talk about three ways I believe we are given to navigate suffering. Note here that I am not talking about answers to suffering, but about ways we are given to press in and through it.

The first is that which God has given us through prayer – specifically the prayers of lament and protest – a language that reflects both our trust and faith in God and our struggle to understand why there is suffering in the world. We see lament in so much of the Old Testament. The people of Israel knew their God and had little problem expressing their pain and protest. “When we voice protest over the suffering and evil we encounter in life, we do more than just vent our rage. We engage in an ancient and profound form of prayer, an appeal to the honor of God” (Tom Long, What shall we say). (More on that later!)

The second way is what Thomas Aquinas and others call the virtue of longanimity. Paul calls it long-suffering (in the list of the fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22)). More on that later!

The third way we are given to press into the goodness of God and how to reconcile that with suffering in the world is beauty. What an odd couple – beauty and suffering – what on earth could be the connection? Suffering of any kind is chaotic, disordered and anarchic. We know it as something born of sin and brokenness. Beauty, in great contrast, speaks of wholeness, and truth, ordered and steadfast.

By beauty here, I am not primarily referring to physical beauty – but to a beauty that reflects truth, single-mindedness and eternal rightness. God in his creation of the world lavished Eden with a perfection of beauty that remained as long as its inhabitants worshipped God. But with the first bite of the apple the perfect beauty God intended for His creation drained away…

I remember a movie from many years ago, Pleasantville, that began in black and white as two teenagers are transported from the 1990’s to the 1950’s to a suburban town steeped in “repression.” As long as its inhabitants did the “good” thing they remained in black and white. But when the rules began to be broken so that people could be “themselves,” color came to town. The theme as I read it was -the world is only beautiful when everyone asserts their own way. That grieves me – and how that must grieve the heart of God.

True beauty calls one to go higher up and further in… It soothes – it compels, it ennobles. And that beauty is never limited to the physical beauty so desired by the culture of the world… True beauty is both moral and spiritual. From the center of that beauty emanates a radiance that could only have originated in the divine. “Josef Pieper noted that in its original sense beauty is “the glow of the true and good irradiating from every ordered state of being, and not in the patent significance of immediate sensual appeal.” Quoted in Thomas Dubay – The Evidential Power of Beauty (p. 35).

Beauty is incarnational. To know any created beauty, to really see it, we must know that we are looking into the very nature of God.

The Son is the radiance of [the Father’s] glory and the representation of his essence.
Hebrews 1:3

Nothing is more radiant than the Son, and so all that God created in the garden was beautiful and radiant. If a flower is beautiful how much more beautiful is its Creator. If we find the sunrise over the ocean glorious, how much more glorious is the One who made it? Moses in his encounters with God would come down the mountain, returning to his people, with a face that shone. He carried with him, on his face, the very radiance of God’s presence. And it was beautiful. How sad was it that the beauty faded the more time he spent with his people?

Beauty, like integrity is simple – whole, undivided in its very nature… The end of time – the final crescendo is the story of the city of Jerusalem – “coming down from heaven” bearing the glory of God – radiant like a most rare jewel” (Rev 21:10-11). The end of time- the beginning of eternity … tells a story of beauty. We are not bodiless souls who sit on clouds – or even in houses made for us by God. (I think Jesus was describing a metaphor in John 17 – although I wouldn’t mind a mansion of my own choosing!)

There is a river, there is a street made of gold, and there is a tree with leaves that bring the healing that ends for all eternity the pain of grief, of sorrow, of migraines and of all manner of sickness.

And every time we look up and out from the ash heap of our pain – we are invited to see God – to truly see beauty. Many years ago, I prayed for a woman who would drive to Toledo from Cleveland every six weeks or so. She had experienced so much trauma – her body and her soul wracked with the pain of abuse. I remember feeling inadequate, woefully so, but I would listen, and we would pray. And God revealed Himself to us as we did so. One time, I asked her to do a bit of homework before her next visit. I think I had been reading Clyde Kilby’s ten resolutions (included on the site as a page). In one of those resolutions, he would tell his students – “every day, go outside, and look… Look at a flower, a cloud, a bird… and give thanks for what it is- something made by God for the sheer joy of creating something beautiful…” (paraphrased by me here). She came back the next month and I asked her how it went for her. She talked about how hard it was, but that she had determined to do it. She spoke of seeing a bird one day and being amazed at its intricate beauty. In that moment – she was able to turn her attention away from the darkness in her soul – to gaze at something so ordinary, but so simple, so undivided in its nature, something beautiful, something totally other than her pain.

I think it was a turning point for her. In her struggle, in her doubt, she found a way to see the eternal nature of God in the beauty of His creation. It didn’t fix her – and it wasn’t intended as an assignment to help her change her focus. It was an encounter with beauty that helped lead her on her way toward her healing.

Beauty invites us into a story – the story of a good and faithful God – but a very unlikely story. We are not met by a knight riding his beautiful steed into our suffering to sweep us off our feet with instant healing. In the end, at the end, our salvation will mean that we were not ultimately “healed by Jesus’ miracles, but by his wounds.” (Tom Long, What Shall We Say). Of course, we have seen Christ’s kingdom come – not in its fullness but in ways that bring us solace and hope and freedom. We should never cease praying for suffering to end! God meets us there and sometimes delivers us, and sometimes He doesn’t. But He always remains with us, and in us, to give us what we need to remain steadfast and true. The cry of our hearts in season and out of season, remains, “Maranatha – Come Lord Jesus” – make all things good and beautiful!”

Fyodor Dostoyevsky in one of his novels said – “Beauty will save the world”. (The Idiot). He was not, of course, speaking of eternal salvation, but of the power of beauty to reveal the good, the beautiful, the true nature of all created things. That beauty also reveals God in His glory. I have a picture of one of my grandchildren, Eisley, who at the time the picture was taken was about 18 months old. It is a picture of her face – and it captured not only her personality, but the beauty of her “otherness” – in this sense it was the childlike femininity that exuded from her face. The photo inadequate as it was, nevertheless captured the transcendent beauty there portrayed.

Once, at a Pastoral Care Ministries school Leanne Payne, speaking from the stage, held up a poster with the inset image of an angel’s face from a Leonardo Da Vinci painting, “The Virgin on the Rocks.” Our registrar that week had made a way for a man to attend who had been homeless, and who had struggled with mental illness most of his life. When Leanne held up the poster, he left his seat and went up onto the stage to get a better look at the angel’s face. Leanne was pointing out the eternal quality of true femininity Da Vinci had painted in her face and this man was simply drawn up out of his seat to see what she saw. He (like us all) was captured by the transcendent beauty Da Vinci had painted. He wanted to get close, not simply to see what Leanne had seen, but to be immersed in that eternal quality of the true feminine.

We say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder – while I think there is more to it than that, this idea does capture the idea that what is loved is beautiful. Looking at the hands of a beloved grandmother and calling them beautiful is seeing all that those hands have done. Every child held, bathed, clothed, every meal prepared, every bandage applied was done with love- all of our beloved’s life is seen in the raised veins, the delicate purple tint and the age spots – and these are all beautiful because of love.

This love is also the love the Father poured out in the sacrifice of His Son on the Cross. In a most ironic way then, we could say that the Father’s love made the crucifixion of Jesus beautiful.

“The cross shows us the true beauty of love. Dear young friends, the beauty of Christ crucified is the great paradox of our faith. It is the beauty of a love that gives itself completely to you and me, to each and every one of us. It is the beauty of a love that bears the marks of our wounds. It is the beauty of a boundless love, yet a love utterly concrete and thus credible, which brings us to our knees, moves us deeply, brings tears to our eyes and leads us to pray from the depths of our heart: “Lord, as I contemplate your terrible sufferings, I find myself able to believe in love” (Primo Mazzolari, Un volto da contemplare, Milan 2001, 86) (Pope Francis).

How great is his goodness and how great is his beauty!
Zechariah 9:17

“To love the good, the beautiful, the just, the true, is mysteriously, to be drawn up into them – or to use another image, to become incarnate of them, to participate in them. To love God, for example, is to be drawn up and out of ourselves (the hell of the self-in-separation) and into Him. In loving Him, I become incarnate of Him. The imagery here is of ascending and descending. God descends into us, and we are drawn into Him. This is a profound thing to think on, for it is the way we get in touch with all that is real. If I come to know and understand justice by loving it, I receive it into myself. If I rejoice in the beauty of another’s face, I become more beautiful.” (Leanne Payne, The Healing Presence)

In saying this, Leanne is writing not only about the power of beauty, but also about how our love of it is transformative. She continues: “This is precisely why the capital sin of envy is so deadly a destroyer. By envying what we feel to be more beautiful, just, good, true, etc., or trying to possessively hold it for ourselves through jealousy, one of the dread daughters of envy, we cut ourselves off from becoming. To envy is to hate.” (ibid)

In the Apostle John’s first letter to the early church, he tells his readers that “everything in the world – the lust (concupiscence) of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life comes not from the Father, but from the world.” Concupiscence (a sinful longing for sensual experience) is the unholy desire to possess, to take over, even to destroy (and so it is another way of talking about envy). It stands in stark contrast to the desire to “behold” beauty. Pornography is but one act of this lust of the eyes. Josef Pieper says, “concupiscence of the eyes” does not aim to perceive reality but to enjoy “seeing” (The Four Cardinal Virtues). To behold beauty is to rest our eyes on the object of that beauty and see the eternal truth and goodness represented there as well as the beauty. But “lust of the eyes,” like envy seeks to consume and then destroy.

To love the beauty in my granddaughter’s face is as Leanne says, to be drawn up into it. And this is the very thing that can save us from the destructiveness of suffering. My advice to my friend from Cleveland helped her to look up and out. In no way did this dismiss her trauma or her pain; instead, it gave her a rest and a respite from the weariness of her pain.

Eternal beauty awaits us, friends. Not merely in the physical beauty of the city of God described in Revelation 21, but the spiritual beauty of the full reign of God.

I see the landscape of my pain – the dry parched places, the rocks, the cliffs of despair, of fatigue, of intractable migraines, and yet I can look up and also see that my destination is the place described by John in Revelation 21-22. “Then the angel showed me the river of the water of light, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb, through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit each month (wouldn’t that be a cool gift of the month subscription?). The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations… They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads…”

Our home at the end of the journey is a city – a holy city descending from heaven when Jesus comes to be our dwelling place. A city, where there will be no loneliness, for God himself will be with us as our God. A city, where there will be no more tears, no more death. A city described by John with an incredible attention to detail – every measurement of every rod and detail given; every jewel set perfectly in its place. Look at verse 15 of chapter 21 – “And the one who spoke with me had a measuring rod of gold to measure the city and its gates and its wall.” – Is that not beautiful? Perhaps in our pain, or in our suffering, it would do us well to go to these two chapters at the end of the Scriptures and meditate on the beauty that will become our eternal home.

Years ago, I was staying at a guesthouse with other friends and colleagues in the ministry. We were in England (but I can’t remember where). I walked outside one morning and felt the chill of an early Spring day. The gravel crunched beneath my feet as I walked across the driveway. I went out to a low stone wall at the edge of the house and looked at the view before me. I saw the mist rising from the hills, and the earth still covered in dew – and I saw newly prepared fields for farming laid out before me, marked by the same low wall I was standing by. Those stone walls had been there for centuries! And I felt this quickening in my soul. It was a moment both of longing and of joy. In some odd way I felt at home. There is an old English hymn, the lyrics of which were written by the poet William Blake. Its title is “Jerusalem”, and it stands in a sense as an unofficial national anthem. Here are some of the lyrics:

And did those feet in ancient time
walk upon England’s mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
on England’s pleasant pastures seen?
And did the countenance divine
shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
among those dark Satanic Mills?

The reference to the dark satanic mills is to the excesses of the Industrial Revolution. The hymn sings of the loveliness of England and how because of the beauty, it must have been a place of Christ’s visitation (It wasn’t).

Beauty awakens in us the longing for something more than what we see and experience here on this earth.

I’ll end here with a beloved quote from one of the Narnia books:

“The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing—to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from—my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.” (C.S. Lewis – The Last Battle)

On Beauty and Suffering

…For beauty comes to us all in the moments that unravel our cynical surety as our hearts seem to come apart at the touch of some odd slant of light on an evening walk. Or we hear the strained thread of some beloved old music that seems to break the spell of doubt. We read a novel, a story of someone who forgave or fought or hoped, and we feel something stir to life as precious, as fragile, as urgent as a newborn child within us. We are encountered by beauty, and suddenly the story of our grief seems to be the passing thing- that faint, ghostly illusion that one day will melt in the beams of a great, inexorable love.

My deep belief is that beauty has a story to tell, one that was meant by God to speak to us of his character and reality, meant to grip our failing hands with hope. We know God when we behold his beauty, when his goodness invades the secret rooms of our hearts. To believe the truth beauty tells: this is our great struggle from the depths of our grief. To trust the hope it teaches us to hunger toward: this is our fierce battle. To craft the world it helps us to imagine: this is our creative, death-defying work.

Sarah Clarkson, This Beautiful Truth, p. 22.

These quotes and others that don’t include a post written by me are categorized under commonplacing – which simply means a collection of inspiring quotes or other material attributed to another writer, artist…

The Lord’s Prayer – The Shattered Door

Our Father, who art in heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come; thy will be done.
On earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day, our daily bread,
And forgive us our sins,
As we forgive those who have sinned against us.
And lead us not into temptation.
But deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom, and the power,
And the glory, forever. Amen.

Our Father in heaven, where all the angels sing for joy. Christ Your Son has been resurrected from the dead! Can we hope, dear Abba, that this will be your will for us as well? That in the ushering in of the final kingdom – we will be made new – in body, soul and spirit? What incredible grace! What incredible joy! Nourish us, Father, with this bread of life, which is real bread and real food! And forgive us our sins, especially in this season, the sin of unbelief. Give us strength of will to forgive those who have sinned against us. We desire, Lord, that no one be exempt from Your grace! Keep far from us the power of temptation and deliver us from all evil. We wait Father, for the fulfillment of the Kingdom of Your Son – to whom with You and the Holy Spirit belong all the power, and all the glory, forever. Amen.

Confessional Prayer – Eastertide Week 5

“Reflecting on the week that has passed, Lord, show me where you were at work in my life. In what ways did I experience your goodness and when did I hear you speak.” * In what ways did I experience the power of your resurrection? In ways unique to my life, my relationships and/or my practices?

I have come to see that it is hard work to answer this question. It takes dedication and patience to see how and where God has been faithful and good. I think the same is true of confession of sin. We are not naturally attuned to either. One of the ways I’ve gotten a bit better at this is to try to start each day with asking the Holy Spirit to orient my attention through the day so that I can identify God’s goodness to me; or for that matter to help me identify sins I need to confess.

Begin by centering your heart in God’s presence… Give thanks to Him that you do not need to hide anything from him. Affirm that He is faithful and good, and his mercy and grace are “new every morning.” The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness” (Lam. 3:22-23).

Now let Him begin the process of searching your heart. Are there ways you have not honored Christ this week? Where were your thoughts and desires not centered in Him? How have you failed in obedience to Christ?

Then, simply confess in as specific a way you can the sins that trouble you. Don’t rush through this process. Simply rest in God’s presence as He does this.

Now choose to let this go and receive Christ’s forgiveness for you. Remember – “He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9)

Loving Lord Jesus, thank you for bearing my sins in Your body on the cross. By your wounds I am healed and by Your blood I am cleansed (1 Peter 2:24). I receive Your forgiveness now. *

And finally commit this confession to the Lord. As you rest in His forgiveness ask Him how to walk this out. Ask for the supernatural power of His Spirit to give you what you need to move forward. Thank Him that you “have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer [you] who live, but Christ lives in [you]” (Gal. 2:20).

*Both these prayers are from the app lectio365.

Lectio Divina – Eastertide Week Five

1 Peter 1:3-5 ³Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! By his great mercy he gave us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, ⁴that is, into an inheritance imperishable, undefiled, and unfading. It is reserved in heaven for you, ⁵who by God’s power are protected through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.

Step One – Read the passage slowly, attentively. Allow yourself to be taken in by the words – pay attention to any word or phrase that strikes you in the passage. (If you haven’t studied this passage, you may find this first reading will stir observation questions in you – such as who, what when, where, how).

Step Two – Read it again. Meditate and reflect on the passage. What is it in your life that needs to hear that word or phrase? Sit in silence for a time, attending to the thoughts, images and impressions that begin to come to you. Turn that into prayer.

Step Three – What is God saying to you? What do you begin to feel called to?

Step Four – How does God want you to live this passage out? What are you resolved to do?

Lectio Quote

[Regarding] divine hope: there is no gap, no space between the future and the present, because the kingdom of God is at hand and “God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying ‘Abba! Father!’” (Gal 4:6). Our Christian hope is rooted in the possession of the substance to be revealed, not in the expectation of a substantial gift to come. If we “have been raised with Christ…seated at the right hand of God” (Col 3:1), we have all that we can ever hope for—even if we need immense patience to wait for its revelation. Ladislaw Orsy

The Shattered Door

“Let the exhilarating shock of the resurrection itself continue—the great reversal, the death of death, the shattered door, the harrowing of hell, the beautiful metamorphosis, the explosion of life! No metaphor measures up, no superlative suffices…. The spirit of… Eastertide is celebratory, joyful… one long feast!” (Bobby Gross)

Friends, we are several weeks into Eastertide and next week we celebrate the Ascension and then in ten days Pentecost, the fiftieth day of Easter! We are still right in the middle of the story of the Resurrection of Christ. I love these words of the author Bobby Gross – but I have to confess I’ve been much more taken up these days by the dust and ashes of Lent. By that I mean I am painfully aware in this life I live, of all that is in me that does not shout of the shattered door. My body aches, my sins are a plague… Yet in spite of this I love these words – I love the reality that whether we sense it or not – The Resurrection matters!

I’ve had this great desire for many years to comprehend the formative nature of Eastertide. As an evangelical my life has been shaped and transformed by the Cross. I have experienced over and over its transformative nature. There is a quote I’ve used before – “Heaven is not only Christ centered; it is Cross-centered” (C.J. Mahaney).

I admit however, that for so many years the place the Resurrection of Christ has in Christian formation has eluded me. The apostle Paul is beginning to change that for me, because for him there is no power in the Cross without the Resurrection. He has taken these events (and others -like baptism…) and made them essential parts of our formation in Christ. You can’t escape thoughts like these found in Ephesians:

⁴ But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, ⁵ even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ–by grace you have been saved– ⁶ and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus…
Ephesians 2:4-6

But if you could, what would you do about Colossians 3 or Romans 6 or 2 Corinthians 4 or Galatians 2! I have grown to love and respect Paul like I never have before. What would we do without him? What if he had never responded to the Risen Christ? (Acts 9)

If the Crucifixion is a sobering time for us, Easter then has become a place to know and experience great joy. J.R.R. Tolkien coined a wonderful word for this sudden eruption of joy – eucatastrophe!

Eucatastrophe – the sudden happy turn in a story which pierces you with a joy that brings tears…
J.R.R. Tolkien

“I coined the word ‘eucatastrophe’: the sudden happy turn in a story which pierces you with a joy that brings tears (which I argued it is the highest function of fairy-stories to produce). And I was there led to the view that it produces its peculiar effect because it is a sudden glimpse of Truth, your whole nature chained in material cause and effect, the chain of death, feels a sudden relief as if a major limb out of joint had suddenly snapped back. It perceives – if the story has literary ‘truth’ on the second plane (….) – that this is indeed how things really do work in the Great World for which our nature is made. And I concluded by saying that the Resurrection was the greatest ‘eucatastrophe’ possible in the greatest Fairy Story – and produces that essential emotion: Christian joy which produces tears because it is qualitatively so like sorrow, because it comes from those places where Joy and Sorrow are at one, reconciled, as selfishness and altruism are lost in Love.” (Tolkien)

… An event that catches in our throat, makes our hearts beat faster, makes the longing for home go deeper – this is the kind of joy Easter brings.

And yet… we know all too well, the already/not yet reality of our lives. We sin, we suffer, we grieve. We know loss, and temptation, and mistakes, and guilt. This continues long after Easter.

How do we then hold onto that joy? That profound grasp of eucatastrophe?

I think we do it in two ways – the first takes us back to our baptisms…

“The physical movement of baptism, down into the water and up again, becomes for Paul the shape of Christian living as our old life ‘in the flesh’ dies in the death of Jesus, and our new life ‘in the Spirit’ begins in the resurrection of Jesus”
Ian Paul

For Paul, and therefore for us, there is no separating of the Cross from the Resurrection – they are two sides of the same coin, two parts of the one experience. And because of what the Father has done in Christ – making him to be sin who knew no sin, for our sake, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. (2Co 5:21) we can live the full life we’ve been given in Christ! So the rhythm of baptism becomes the rhythm of our lives, of confession, of Communion… we confess and turn, we take our place in His death; we receive His forgiveness and grace, and we rise to take our place in His rising, in His resurrection!

And the second way we hold onto that joy is through the virtue of hope. The writer of Hebrews calls hope “a sure and steadfast anchor of our souls…” (Heb. 6:19). Hope is a resurrection virtue.

I wrote in an earlier post that holding onto biblical hope would help us to understand that the life we live, is a pilgrimage. “We may indeed never see in this life the fulfillment of our hopes or dreams. But living life as an “on the way” kind of people sets into our hearts a contentment and peace that our future rests in the hands of God. The Israelites’ journey through the wilderness reminds us of the peril of not trusting in God. Do you know that they wondered for 40 years over a span of only 240 miles?” (me from an earlier post)

I hold to this idea that while hope is indeed a pilgrimage virtue, the Resurrection changes everything! We can now see that hope’s anchor, hope’s place in us, means that the journey of our becoming now directs us to the resurrection to come!

1 Peter 1:3-5 ³ Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! By his great mercy he gave us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, ⁴ that is, into an inheritance imperishable, undefiled, and unfading. It is reserved in heaven for you, ⁵ who by God’s power are protected through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.

I struggle now with a body that at times feels like my enemy. I struggle with finding answers to chronic ailments. I struggle now with “besetting” sins (I just might have to give up driving…). But every day, I can rise and pledge that through the power of the indwelling Spirit, I can walk through this day in the rhythm of baptism. And that makes each day a eucatastrophe! I can lift my eyes from my bed in the second (or more) days of a migraine – and hope. And that hope is not weak, insipid, or illusory. I am still very cranky over my ailments, but the hope I can rest on is the hope Peter speaks of in the passage above – “an inheritance imperishable, undefiled, and unfading…” But wow, do I need the power of Christ in me- the hope of glory (Col. 1:27).

I think what I’m trying to say is that our joy, our hope, our lives are not restricted to the broken, fallen world we live in. Paul says “We want you to know, brothers, about the grace of God that has been given among the churches of Macedonia, “for… in a severe test of affliction, their abundance of joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part. (2Co 8:1-2 ESV)

I kinda want to have a eucatastrophe party! Let’s write a resurrection liturgy! I want to be like those two disciples who left Emmaus immediately after Jesus revealed himself to them – They ran back to Jerusalem! Can you imagine their talk on the way?? “did you…? Can you believe…? What does this mean…? I want to be a part of a people who don’t forget what we’ve been given in the resurrection of Christ and what we will receive in the “final resurrection to come.”

I wrote a poem – well maybe it’s a poem, I’m no expert. I found this random line from a website- “I meant to give thanks.” I don’t even remember the content I was looking for. But it lingered in my mind for several days and from it came this poem. I forget, too often, that our lives are filled with complexities and contradictions.

I meant to give thanks…
For the day and for the night,
For the joy and the longing,
For the journey and for the end.

I meant to give thanks…
For the dying and for the rising,
For the dust and for the glory,
For the scars and for the life.

I meant to give thanks…
For the lament and for the hope,
For the wood and for home,
For the Prodigal, both Father and Son.

And so, on this day, in this evening prayer,
I pause, and remember what I’ve forgotten,
and give Him thanks.
All my thanks I pledge to You,
my God and my Lord.

Once again, friends, Let’s shout “Christ is risen! He is risen indeed!”

Lectio Divina -The Gospel and the Resurrection

The following passage is a great entry into the gospel and Acts. If you read Acts through you will find that “resurrection” is found 10 times, and “raised” also ten times. And every time the apostles are gathered and they preach – it is the resurrection that they proclaim as the good news! This passage is a great Lectio passage in that you can put yourself right there with them in the weeks and months following Pentecost. This passage comes after Peter and John were arrested and jailed. They came before the religious leaders the next day and were told to not preach Jesus to the people. Acts 4 and the rest of Acts tells the story of what happened when they refused to stop witnessing about Christ and the Resurrection! Imagine yourself there in the excitement and drama of those early days.

Acts 4:29-35 – ²⁹ Now, Lord, consider their threats and enable your servants to speak your word with great boldness. ³⁰ Stretch out your hand to heal and perform signs and wonders through the name of your holy servant Jesus.”³¹ After they prayed, the place where they were meeting was shaken. And they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God boldly. ³² All the believers were one in heart and mind. No one claimed that any of their possessions was their own, but they shared everything they had. ³³ With great power the apostles continued to testify to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus. And God’s grace was so powerfully at work in them all ³⁴ that there were no needy persons among them. For from time to time those who owned land or houses sold them, brought the money from the sales ³⁵ and put it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to anyone who had need. (NIV)

Step Three – What is God saying to you? What do you begin to feel called to?

Step Four – How does God want you to live this passage out? What are you resolved to do?

Lectio Quote

To preach Christianity meant (to the Apostles) primarily to preach the Resurrection. … The Resurrection is the central theme in every Christian sermon reported in the Acts. The Resurrection, and its consequences, were the ‘gospel’ or good news which the Christians brought. (Miracles, chapter 16)

You can go through the same steps that we use for Lectio Divina for Scripture, or simply take some time and read this quote slowly, and seek The Spirit’s help to discern how this passage might bring new understanding to preparing for His return.

Resurrection Meals

Friends, this is something I wrote during Covid. We were about 2 months in, and I remember how hard it was to go about our normal lives. I didn’t really mind not going out, (staunch introvert here) but I was sad when we had to celebrate my daughter’s birthday, by handing over her favorite cake through the window at their house. I imagine many of us have profound memories of that time, possibly some good and some hard. What you’ll read is just how I wrote it in April 2020.

Sigh. Dear friends, I am longing for something different than this seemingly endless quarantine. Don’t get me wrong – I’m so grateful to those who work so hard for my protection. I am ashamed often that I do not even begin to understand the suffering others have experienced in this time in lost jobs, insecure futures, and even bread on the table.

But I miss the messy, tangible nature of our life together. I’m grateful that life can go on with Zoom meetings and parking lot church. I’m grateful for the technology we have to continue on in life. But l miss the everyday ordinariness of sports, of hugging my grandchildren; of teaching someone to tie their shoes (Nate’s finally got ahold of that one!) I miss matter.

If you are on social media these days, you are probably aware of how many people in quarantine have taken up bread baking. I wasn’t really aware of that when I thought – “hey, I have time, I’ll make bread.” But it took me several weeks to get flour and yeast (which is pretty much all you need). I haunted the King Arthur Flour website – I sent Nate to the grocery store with a mission- find flour! I did the same with my daughter – I even wrote emails. “Where’s the flour??” And when I finally had my flour and yeast, I took great satisfaction in baking and smelling and eating that bread!

I’m not surprised at the sudden interest in baking – in times like these I think we long for the smells and the tastes of something real and homey and meaningful and even liturgical! Since my grandson Asher has been going to the Montessori school just down the road from me, I have picked him up at least one day a week to spend the afternoon together. We have a ritual. We watch Lego building videos, eat lunch, play with trains, or Legos, or whatever strikes his fancy. Lately he has been telling me that I smell like Lego videos. At first, I’m like, huh?? And then it hits me. He has associated a meaningful experience that we’ve had together with something sensory – smell. I bet we all have done that.

I remember walking into my grandmother’s house and smelling her home’s absolutely most unique smell! Was it her perfume or the scent of her shampoo? Was it the smell of something frying? Was it the metallic smell of rain on her eating porch? Yes. All that and more. And the time I spent with her was very much like the time I’ve spent with Asher these last months. It always had its own liturgy. By that I mean there was ritual: daily walks, summer meals outside on the porch, watching her stories (Soap operas) and licking green stamps! There was ceremony (the setting of the table, the blessing of the meal) and meaningful tangible contact with food – cold tomatoes from the garden with a bit of mayo and salt and pepper; fresh cantaloupe, and fried chicken that marinated in buttermilk all day. There was milk of magnesia (ugh) and prayers at night; there were hours I spent reading – and just being with her – the safest adult in my life for most of my childhood.

We need the tastes of home – we need the smells of bread rising and baking, we need the smells of Lego videos (what that is I cannot begin to say). And Jesus understood this. He knew we didn’t need manifestations, or “appearances”. He did not despise matter – he blessed it – He blessed and broke and gave – in the Incarnation, in His death (a real body suffering and dying for us) and in His Resurrection.

Aren’t you glad that Scripture tells us about Resurrection meals? There are at least two accounts of meals taken with Jesus after the Resurrection. These stories are so important! I love them both. The one in Luke is about a meal at the end of a journey (Lk 24:13-35). The other is in John, chapter 21 and is about breakfast by the sea (a great name for a bed and breakfast/retreat center, eh?)

The passage in Luke is about a journey two men take. Cleopas, a disciple, and his friend (we are not told who he is) are walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus. They are discouraged and confused, and they begin talking about recent events. Soon they are joined by a third man, unknown to them. He asks them what they are talking about, and they are astonished he hasn’t heard anything about Jesus. They open up to him, and then he begins to share the Scriptures with them and how these Scriptures had predicted all that they had experienced with the man, Jesus. They reach the end of their journey, and they entreat this stranger to stay and have supper with them.

He walked with them as an Old Testament scholar, and now at table He becomes their host. He blessed and broke and gave them not just their supper but a profound revelation of who He was and who He is. And in that blessing of the meal, the disciples recognized their Lord.

“Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road?”
Luke 23:32

These two actions were critical post Resurrection – He revealed himself as the Christ both in spirit (or in text) and in matter (body).

I am thankful for Resurrection meals. I miss the shared smells and taste and touches of Christian community. It has been a while since I’ve been eager for church potlucks. I don’t like lines, and I am frustrated when the food has been picked over, but I’ve concluded that Christ is revealed to us in a unique way when we share our bread. If any good comes from this quarantine (and of course there will be), I hope it is that we can look for Jesus in the material stuff of our lives. And yes, I am grateful, in fact, eternally grateful that Christ comes to us in the bread and in the cup. And right now, I would have to say that the best compliment I have received in a long time is that I smell like Lego videos.

*picture taken from one of my favorite children’s books, Father Fox’s Pennyrhymes.

Thomas and the Lord’s Prayer

Abba, Father, who dwells in the highest places, even the heavens, Your name is so holy. I pray that Your kingdom would come in fullness – and that all my doubt would be cast off because of Your great love. I know that Your will is that all the world would come to know and believe in You. Today, Lord, I need the sweet nourishment that comes from Your holy presence. Even in my unbelief Lord, You are there, wooing me into Your goodness, and into the life You have given me through Your Son. Forgive me all my sins that have grown out of that unbelief – and give me grace, Lord, and power to forgive all my enemies. Keep from me the temptations of doubt, and deliver me from all that comes against You. For the kingdom, the power and the glory are due to You, all the days of my life, forever and forever. Amen.