Stay-at-Home Ponderings

I wrote these thoughts out the day the Michigan governor announced the stay-at-home order. Now 97% of Americans are under a stay-at-home protocol. While we're beginning to adjust to a new normal, we're also still reeling in many ways and grappling with our new reality.

Personally, I don't really know exactly what to think of it all (especially the swirling politics). What I do know is that this is a time for love, kindness, trust, and generosity. It's a time for prayer (if you're a person of faith) and grieving with the suffering, for creativity and patience. I'm seeking to lean into those things, and so are most of the people that I know personally. And if we lean toward kindness together--if we lean towards each other--this can be a time of hope and renewal for our planet.

Bloodroot in Maybury State Park, Spring 2020 (a solitary quarantine walk) 

Exposed

3/23/2020

We feel these days deeply and painfully.

As though we are relearning something about ourselves and our existence:

life is fragile.

We are fragile.

This time, it’s not 4 airplanes and 3 crash scenes that remind us

suddenly 

on a Tuesday morning

that we are fragile.

It’s not the news of the impending tsunami making landfall and claiming 230,000 lives.

It’s not an individual tragedy--a phone call with a diagnosis, discovery of an accidental overdose, a family disruption, a job loss--that we experience in isolation from those around us.

This.

This has come to all of us.

It is, at once, a sudden and a creeping thing.

It rose rapidly but lingers with uncertainty. 

We cannot wrap our minds around it, because it is always shifting, changing, evolving.

The narrative keeps unfolding.

This is a virus.

And it’s established a monopoly on our TVs, radios, internet sources, social media feeds, and even our private conversations.

It’s become a household name. A global terror.

A pandemic.

And we are exposed.

Exposed to change.

Exposed to harm.

Exposed, yes, to a virus,

but, oh, so much more.

We are exposed

to our mortality,

to the vulnerability of our lives that, God knows, we tried so hard to make safe, secure, and comfortable.

We are exposed

to raw emotions (our own and others’),

to needs we cannot fathom,

to suffering we cannot alleviate,

to information we cannot make sense of,

to disruption we cannot evade.

We are exposed to our fragility.

This violent virus, microbial menace.

Today, the governor announced a stay-at-home protocol for the state of Michigan.

Some feel this as governmental overstepping; others, as too little, too late.

The diverse perspectives reiterate our tensions, our loss of control, the invasiveness of the whole situation.

We each respond in a different way. But we all respond, think, feel, something. After all, our lives are being invaded. 

No one is immune

to this fragility,

our humanity.

We are reminded again.

By a microscopic organism.

Reminded that our precious lives are uncertain.

Reminded that we are fragile.

Reminded that we are human.

It is a good reminder:

we are all human.

Dear humans, let us love well.

Lent 2020

“Remember that you are dust and to dust you will return.”

Each year for many of us, Lent begins with the pronouncement of these words and the smudging of an ashy cross on our foreheads. A sober reminder of our fragile humanity.

This year, however, the Lenten season has come to us with even deeper and more far-reaching impact, and regardless of faith tradition, we as human beings have faced our mortality and vulnerability with renewed awareness.

The traditional season of contemplation, fasting, and mourning has entered our lives in new, invasive, and uncomfortable ways in the form of a pandemic.

Lord, have mercy.

Christ, have mercy.

Brothers and sisters, members of the human family, we are dust. 

We are vulnerable, but love is strong.

Let us love well during these days.

Expectations and Trust

“...you will conceive and bear a son…

call his name Jesus.

He will be great

& will be called the Son of the Most High.

The Lord God

will give to him the throne of his father David,

& he will reign over the house of Jacob forever,

& of his kingdom there will be no end….

The child to be born will be called holy--the Son of God.” (Lk. 1)

This is what You told Mary to start with. This was how her story started. These were the expectations that You set. This happened before all the shame, before Joseph and the turmoil of the engagement being threatened, before the Roman politics and the tax census. This happened before Simeon’s terrifying and cryptic words, before the visit of the Magi, the horrifying actions of Herod, and the escape to Egypt. This happened before Mary's life was completely disrupted, turned upside-down, destroyed.

You sent an angel to a young woman with a message full of wonder and promise and presence. And she believed it.

And, God, from where we stand, it all went downhill from there. Why You do ‘dis?

Also from our perspective: things often go this way, and at the end of the path of an obedience that began with hope and light and certainty, we, like Mary, find ourselves standing at the foot of a cross, heartbroken. Looking up at the bloody, mangled remains of the gift that came to us with such promise and hope. What is this awfulness? No wonder we feel like fools when You ask us to hold onto faith and hope for a Resurrection. But where else can we go?

“Behold, I am the servant of the Lord. Let it be to me like you have said.”

So...please...heal our cynicism and skepticism. Our hard-heartedness.

God, we have hurt often and long and hard at how Your words and promises come true in real life. Apparently our expectations are usually wrong and Your purposes are inscrutable (You actually told us that ahead of time). We often feel like there’s a terrible bait-and-switch going on, and like we can’t take Your words at face value (but we’re afraid that we’re going to be punished if we don’t--cue the Zechariah story: “you’ll be mute because you didn’t believe my words that will be fulfilled in their time”). It’s hard for us to believe that You will end things in a way that is “better than we could ask or think,” since things regularly go worse than we expected/hoped (based, we thought, on things You had said). We feel our smallness and our inadequacy in understanding and interpreting the things You say to us.

The more this happens, the more suspicious we become of angels and angel visits and angel messages and anything else that seems too good to be true, too full of goodness and joy. Suspicious of You and Your trustworthiness.

I guess I don’t think You blame us, though. You actually understand. You know that faith is a tall order. That’s why You value it so much. You like to be trusted, because You know just how confusing and hard things can get from our side of the coin.

So help us to trust You. May the Spirit fill us again today and convince us that You do love us. Give us the willingness and ability to trust You. We actually do love You. You loved us, and You planted love for You in our hearts. No matter how much we struggle, we actually do love You and want You. So breathe life back into our faith today.

And when we are confused or hurt or afraid or cynical or angry, come down and be near to us: be our Jesus who saves his people from their sins and is our God with us.

“We will trust in You.”

^^^This miracle brought to us by the Spirit of the Holy One who overshadows us and places life within us. Just like he did in Mary.

*written 11/8/18

Image by Free Photos from Pixabay

Lament

Teach us to lament with You,

O God.

We feel Your grief; it rises strong

in us.

The hurt that fills Your heart

now floods

our own and makes us know

that You—

Ancient and Wise beyond our grasp—

still feel

the brokenness and pain that seem

always 

to come, to cut, to curse, to cure.

And yet,

You have not made Yourself

exempt

from all the harm of humanness.

You came,

and as a Man, You shared our lot.

You bore 

the bitter days of darkness, worlds

of grief;

absorbed into Your heart 

the ache

of all that evil’s rage has marred

in us.

Your life and death continue on:

the Church

reflects You, Three-in-One.

We share

with You in life and death, relationships and harm

and grief,

and, weeping, raise our own

lament.

God is Happy with You

Thoughts from Psalm 149.

“...let the children of Zion rejoice in their King!

For the Lord takes pleasure in His people...

...let them sing for joy on their beds.”

Did you catch that? Did you hear what the psalmist just said? "Be happy," he says, and then tells you why: “because God takes pleasure in you.”

Among the reasons for joy, this is an unexpected one. 
Did you know, human being, that you make God happy?

And He wants you to be happy about making Him happy and also happy that He’s happy with you.

According to the psalmist, it’s the kind of happiness that you take with you to bed and night and enjoy as you prepare to go to sleep. "Let them sing for joy on their beds." (You know how you felt when you found out that that person that you liked actually liked you back...it’s like that.) You make God happy, and God is happy with you. Child of the royal city, be glad.

“Child of the royal city.” Child of the royal city: that's kind of an interesting title, though. Does it remind you of anything else?
It should. 
It should remind you that, a couple thousand years later, this message about God being happy with you hasn’t changed.
A long time after the psalmist wrote his song, some angels came to earth and sang something really similar:

“Don’t be afraid, because I’m bringing you good news of great joy for all people: a Child has been born in the royal city, and He is the Savior. You can go see Him....Praise to God in heaven, and here on earth, peace for those with whom He is pleased” (Luke 2).

There it is again: there’s good news to make you happy.

God is here, and He is pleased with you.

And He always will be. Because the Child born in the royal city is ruling the Royal City now, and He’s going to gather you and all the other children of the Royal City to come be with Him. He’s the King, and He delights in His people.

Sit back.

Take it all in.

Think about it for a long time and let it sink in (even Mary had to do that, and she was there).

Take it to bed with you and turn it over in your head and heart till you fall asleep.

God is here, and He is happy with you.

One-Way Glass

“We see in a mirror dimly,” says Paul in his letter to the Corinthian church. "But," he promises, “face to face will happen." One day.
It reminds me of one-way glass. One-way glass is reflective, but as a mirror, it’s not great, AND you know that the people on the other side can totally see you. You are seen, yet cannot see: not even yourself, at least not very well. And this is life on earth. We don’t see anything clearly. We can’t see through the glass (though we are conscious of being seen and known), and we can’t discern our own surroundings really definitively. And it is hard. Frustrating. Sad. Dissatisfying. We were made to be known and to know, and the one-sidedness aches something deep inside of us. But, says God, if you want a taste of the future knowing and being known, love. Love, because it’s part of the eternal state, will give you a taste of the future, the other side of the glass. So while you’re here, scrunch your face up against the one-way glass and love hard.

Failure and Mercy

Some observations from Solomon’s life on the character of God and His dealings with people (aka, the mercy of God and failings of men):

1 Kings 2-3 describes the early part of Solomon’s reign as he settled into ruling the nation of Israel and settling out the matters of business that David had handed off to him. Towards the very beginning of his reign, he began violating some of the laws that God had given about worship and kingship. We are going to take a look at the interaction between God, Solomon, and the Israelites and see some beautiful glimpses of God’s nature and how He treats His flawed children.

1 Kings 3:1-5

Solomon made a marriage alliance with Pharaoh king of Egypt. He took Pharaoh's daughter and brought her into the city of David until he had finished building his own house and the house of the LORD and the wall around Jerusalem. The people were sacrificing at the high places, however, because no house had yet been built for the name of the LORD.

Solomon loved the LORD, walking in the statutes of David his father, only he sacrificed and made offerings at the high places. And the king went to Gibeon to sacrifice there, for that was the great high place. Solomon used to offer a thousand burnt offerings on that altar. At Gibeon the LORD appeared to Solomon in a dream by night, and God said, “Ask what I shall give you.”

Several fascinating things in this short text:

1. God had forbidden the Israelites in general to intermarry with other nations, and He had specifically forbidden kings of Israel to intermarry for the purpose of forming political alliances. 1 Kings 3 starts off by saying that Solomon made a marriage alliance with the king of Egypt. (We are noting this, but will not be discussing it further right now.)
2. God had forbidden the Israelites to sacrifice on the high places like the surrounding nations customarily did. They were doing it anyways: “because no house had yet been built for the name of the Lord.” (Note: We usually believe that we have “good” reasons for doing what God has told us not to do.)
3. The text plainly states that “Solomon loved the LORD.”
4. Solomon himself made sacrifices on the high places (and you can tell that God hadn’t changed his mind about the high places, because after saying that “Solomon loved the LORD, walking in the statutes,” the text notes “only he sacrificed and made offerings at the high places” as the exception to that).
5. Solomon goes to a high place in Gibeon (this also seems totally unnecessary, since the Tabernacle was right there in Jerusalem with him). And God comes to him there.

12/14/2017 - Correction to original post:

I learned something this week! I've continued reading through the Historical Books, and I reached 2 Chronicles this last week. 2 Chronicles 1 recounts the same scene that recorded in 2 Kings 3. The 2 Chronicles text tells us that the Tabernacle was located in Gibeon at the time. (Interesting that the ark of God was in Jerusalem, but the Tabernacle was still in Gibeon.) This added information, though, does shed light on Solomon's trip to Gibeon, and I wanted to note it here as a correction to my original post.

God comes to him there. There: in Gibeon. A high place. God meets him there. And God meets him there to bless him. One of the most well-known Solomon moments - where he has this conversation with God and asks for wisdom, and God gives it to him - happens at a high place. What?

Ancient Mayan Temple

Here’s the thing: God’s thoughts are not our thoughts, and His ways are not our ways. He’s not the way we often imagine Him to be. We know that He’s so big and holy. He is powerful and commanding and righteous and completely authoritative. He has the right to make any rules He wants and to enforce those rules and to fiercely punish even the slightest aberration to them. He’s written a sense of His power and Divine right into our human consciousness (Rom. 1), and that is the grace of general revelation. Yet we often imagine Him to be a harsh and malicious authority figure, tracking our every movement and ready to punish when we make the slightest mistake or break a single command that He’s given. Deep inside our hearts, we tend to have this dread of Him. We neither worship Him for His greatness nor trust Him for His goodness. By birth and by choice, we are enemies of God in our hearts, and we treat Him with suspicion. We try to keep our lives to ourselves and out from under His nose, all the while resenting the fact that avoiding Him entirely isn’t an option. (Look, I know that we would never put it into so many words! We don’t consciously think this about God, but if it surprises you that God meets with Solomon at a high place [and it should surprise you, if you’ve read the Pentateuch well!], then you can be sure that something inside you is suspicious of God and that something in you believes that you have to do everything just right in order for God to meet with you.

But God is surprising. He is surprisingly full of mercy and grace. Do we really think that 10,000 years (and counting!) of human failure and rebellion is enough to exhaust the mercy of God? The Scriptures say that He is rich in it! Beyond that, He is a God who loves relationship. He delights to know and to be known. He loves steadfast love: both the giving and the receiving of it. He is not seeking perfection from us; He doesn’t expect that. (He Himself has provided a perfect righteousness that will be freely imputed to us [Rom. 5].) He is seeking those whose hearts are toward Him (2 Chron. 16:9). He wants people who worship Him in Spirit and in truth (John 4). He desires steadfast love more than sacrifice and to be known more than burnt offerings (Hos. 6:6; Matt. 9:13; 12:7). He is like a compassionate father, and He remembers that we are made out of dust (Ps. 103:13-14). And so He comes to us. Again and again, He comes to us. He finds us where we are: shame-filled Adam and Eve in the garden, misdirected Solomon at the high place, depressed Elijah out in the desert, runaway Jonah in a ship and angry Jonah on the hill, curious Zaccheus in the tree, guilty-sad Peter by the Sea of Galilee, raging Saul on the way to Damascus, and so on and on. He comes to us. This is the kind of God that He is.

So, fellow-believer, friend who needs mercy, don't try to hide your failure; don't think He expects you to get your act together first. Turn your face to Him; ask Him for help for your heart. We call this "faith," and it pleases Him. Righteous people live by faith: faith in Jesus. Jesus knows exactly who you are and where you are, and He is the kind of God who will come to meet you. That's why His name is Jesus: He comes (Immanuel), and He saves His people from their sins.

Tropism

Do you remember learning about "tropism" in the plant section of your 4th grade science book? You know, phototropism, hydrotropism, and thigmotropism? I remember being intrigued and looking for examples of tropisms in the plants around me.

The Biology Online dictionary defines "tropism" as "A movement or growth response of a cell or an organism to a stimulus, which may either be positive or negative depending on the source and kind of stimulation." The entry goes on to differentiate "tropism" from similar phenomena such as "kinesis" or "taxis" and then offers examples of various kinds of "tropism."

You wanted to know all of that, right? (But really, it's pretty cool.)

Over the years, the idea of tropism has grown deeper roots in my life. According to the Bible, the God who made the world, crafts each human individually, and orders every day with personal attention and care is continually calling people to come to Him and to know Him. He's always pursuing relationship with people. There's a very real sense in which He intends for every single facet of your life in every single stage of your life to act as a stimulus in your relationship with Him. The Christian's interaction with life should be "theotropic."

That being said, I wanted to share two tropism parables with you.

1). Thigmotropism (response to touch stimuli).

I wrote this little poem-prayer back when I was in school (and when I thought that writing poetry in Elizabethan English was a thing. I've since learned differently. Don't judge.).

Thigmotropy

As vining plant, when touched by stick,

In glad dependence graspeth quick,

Let me, dear Lord, when touched by Thee,

Display a like thigmotropy.

2). Heliotropism (response to the sun).

When I took a walk a few evenings ago, I noticed these field clovers craning their necks west, turning full face toward the setting sun. The responsiveness of the plants to the sun echoed in my own heart as a prayer for myself and the people I love: "May our hearts always turn toward You like that."

What have you seen recently that has helped your heart grow toward God?

"No One has Ever Seen God"

"No one has ever seen God."

This phrase appears twice in John's writings: a simple statement of fact.

There's an obvious reality that God is spirit, and we cannot see Him. We who believe in God do so by faith and, like it says in Hebrews 11, live "as seeing Him who is invisible."

Towards the beginning of his gospel, however, John points out that there is an exception to the whole not seeing God thing. He writes, "No one has ever seen God; the only God, who is at the Father's side, he has made him known" (Jn 1:18).

Here's the exception: although no one has seen the Father, the Son came and revealed Him. To see Jesus is to see God. Those who look on Jesus see "the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ" (2 Cor. 4). For 33 years, God walked the earth, and people saw His face. This is a beautiful and deep truth, but if you believe what the Bible says about Jesus being God, then at some level, it's still a reasonable/understandable concept.

Later in his life, though, John writes a couple of letters, and in his first letter, he brings up the subject of seeing God again. "No one has ever seen God;" he says, but "if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us" (1 Jn 4:12).

Wait. What?

The first time that we read "no one has ever seen God," we are reminded that Jesus is an exception to that.

The second time that we read "no one has ever seen God," we are told that love among believers is an exception to that.

Don't miss the weight and profoundness of this!

(In fact, if you have any questions about what John is implying here, go back and read the larger contexts in which these two texts appear. The contexts totally support the intentional parallel of Christ bringing the fullness and knowledge of God to us, our receiving it, and then our being enabled to pass it along.)

In my church, we've been studying about Heaven during our morning services (highly recommend the series!). So as I've been thinking about this phrase from John's writings, it's mingled with thoughts about Heaven, and here's one of my main takeaways:

In Heaven, we will see the face of God. But today, others can see the face of God in the mutual love of believers. Others will recognize the face of God from seeing His love being given and received among His people. So, when I love my brothers and sisters like God does, I, like Jesus, am letting people see God, and I can do so now in a way that will not be mine to do (at least in the same way) in eternity.

God, please let it be that I and my brothers and sisters would so "keep ourselves in the love of God," that we live it out incessantly in ways that make You known/visible in our relationships with each other today. We believe You to be the Most Beautiful and Winsome of Beings, and we want You to be known and loved. We are amazed to think that anyone could catch a glimpse of Your face in us; it's the greatest honor we could ever have. (Like, the more I think about it, the more mind-blowing it is.) Let our gratitude and gladness find full expression today. In others words, let me and my brothers and sisters love each other so thoroughly today that someone gets to see Your face in ours. That would be more amazing than we could put into words. And give us faith to believe that You actually intend to reveal Yourself to others through us!

Oasis

From the time I was 13 years old, Psalm 119 has been an oasis for my soul. I remember the first time I read it: riding in our family van on a weekend roadtrip, my large-print child's Bible spread out on my lap. 

I couldn't believe how much the person who was writing the psalm loved the words of God. I didn't know you could love the words of God like that. But the psalmist showed me that you could. And through the work of the Spirit, the psalmist's love for God and His Word ignited mine, and I began to love the Bible and devote myself to it. I memorized Psalm 119 a few months later.

In the years since then, Psalm 119 has never been far from my heart. It's one of my most listened-to tracks in my playlist. I've turned to it when I'm full of delight in God and looking for words to express my gladness and worship. I've spread it open before God when I'm mute with weariness or grief and needed words for my mourning. I've dragged my soul to its pages kicking and screaming in rebellion, dry and cracked with thirst, shell-shocked from the fight with sin, and sullen with indifference. And I have found life in its words. 

Tonight was no different. My soul was dull, spent from a full day of people and half a dozen to-dos still tugging at me. But when I walked in the door of my house, I felt the inexorable pull of Psalm 119. Life. Water. Repentance. Hope. Communion. Petition. Longing. The words of life beckoned. 

God invited me to come drink.

Notebook paper, pencil, open Bible.

Oasis.

And slowly my soul revived.

Sandra McCracken has an album on the Psalms, and her Psalm 119 song is titled "Flourishing." My good friend Sallie shared the song with me about three weeks ago, and I've listened to it nearly every day since then. I hope you'll listen to it...and that you'll go spread your roots into oasis of Psalm 119 and be filled with its life-giving water. 

P.S. More to come on the topic of "flourishing."