I was looking through an old journal yesterday and I was amazed at how so many things had changed...yet how so many had stayed the same. [I was also grieved that I've slacked off on my journalling and awed by some of the things that I've written that are very wise. But that's not the point of this entry--my final one of 2010 :-)].
One particular entry from October 13, 2008, illustrates perfectly this dichotomy of change and consistency. I'll post my original writing, unedited, in italics and then I'll write my current response in bold.
--i have a new goal in life: get my neighbor's dog to let me pet him. he's a little yippy dog that used to annoy me. all he would do is bark incessently and pee on my car tires. my dad has won his affection, however, and in learning the dog's story, i have changed my opinion of him. the dog, bullet, was severely abused by his previous owner who then left him in a parking lot to die. my neighbor found him and brought him home. knowing this, i have sympathy for the little guy and i understand why he is so afraid of everyone. and yet--if my dad can do it--then i can do it :-)! bullet will like me one day! and right now? he's already the backround on my phone. hehe.
Bullet Williams Deaton is laying on a towel on the couch beside me. Since returning home from Florida, I have been scratched by Bullet's long paws as my attention has been demanded, my hands and arms have been licked in affection, and my cheek has been kissed. I have played tug of war with Bullet and his favorite toy and I have played catch with Bullet's Build-A-Bear--both of which I gave him. I have spent countless dollars on dog treats and dog toys, not because I am still trying to win the dog's affection but because I have won it and he has won mine. Bullet makes me itch, sheds terribly, and stinks, but I love him. And he loves me. And watching his devotion to my dad is one of the cutest things I have ever seen. My dad is big man; Bullet is a little dog. Watching Bullet follow my dad around and hearing my dad talk to the little guy warms my heart and makes me want to follow Christ and be fiercely devoted to Christ just as Bullet is devoted to, loyal to, and in a state of constant love for my dad...
Two years later, I'm not trying to win Bullet's affection; I have it. That much has changed.
--i enjoyed my time with my family. they left to go back home today. it's always sad when my grandmother leaves because i never know if it will be the last time i see her. her sister fell over the weekend and was so confused that she stayed on her bathroom floor all night. luckily, her children arrived at her house to pick her up for the family reunion and found her there. i fear that something like that will happen to my grandmother, and the thoughts make me so sad. she said more than once this week that she was getting old and feeble--moving so much slower than she used to. it's as if her spirit is slowly dying as her friends and family are slowly dying. i pray for her safety and for a peaceful remainder of her life...however many more years that it is.
Two years later, I am still sad when I leave G-mama because I don't know what the future holds for her. As I told her goodbye today, the old familiar question of "Will this be the last" played in my mind, yet I looked her in the eye and made her laugh nonetheless, attempting to create a memory to hold on to forever. More than ever, G-mama seems old and feeble, frail and tired. I suppose that after 88 years of living, I'd be frail and tired, too. She's lived in the same house for 52 and a half years, and I've been visiting her there for 33 of those years. I have played many games; built many forts; had many laughs; opened many presents; eaten a lot of ham, green beans, rolls, cool-whip, snacks, and desserts; and had many allergic reactions (complete with running nose and weepy eyes) to something there...all with G-mama in the background, scurrying around to get food on the table and blankets on the bed. I don't know how many more years that will happen--if ever again--yet I will continue to pray for her safety and a peaceful remainder of her life...however long it is.
And so...as 2010 comes to a close and I sit on the couch beside Bullet and cry, I am reminded just how much life has changed...yet just how much it has stayed the same...
And I suppose that it will always be this way: a constant dichotomy of change and consistency...fueled by time...under-girded by hope...and infused by the deep, unwavering, unchanging yet ever deepening reality of Love.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
A Spiritual Moment
On our way down to Florida, my dad asked me about the most spiritual moment of my year. I mentioned a few times of leading worship and watching my panelists help at Carolina Girls. Upon further reflection, though, I think that this was my most spiritual moment of the year:
A couple of weeks ago, I had a full breakdown—you know, the kind where you’re not making much sense but you’re talking uncontrollably as tears fall from your eyes and down your face so hard that you cannot see straight and your nose is running and your face is red and puffy and you’re generally just all out of whack and the friend who is with you has absolutely no idea what to say or do and so she just listens and does her best to be a steady presence for you.
This breakdown was brought on by work—by the feeling that I don’t do a good job at my job—wondering if the time and effort that I put into the Facebook pages is worth it—if anyone reads the notes, if the statuses and questions make anyone think, if anything that I do is helping anyone grow spiritually—feeling like I am a bad WMU-er because I don’t do WMU things in traditional ways.
After about thirty minutes, when the tears subsided, I came to the conclusion that, regardless of known impact, I had to keep doing what I was doing—following God’s guidance to the best of my ability—trusting that something was happening even when I could not see…
In a parallel life, during the same moments of my breakdown, a dear, beautiful woman, was writing me an e-mail. This is what she said:
Hi Deanna,
I hope you had great fun with your nephews -- sounds like they really like their Aunt D. Now -- the real reason for this message.
As I reflect back over this year, I've seen you continue to grow in so many ways. Your writings almost always give me something to think about, laugh about and sometimes even cry over. Thank you for that. I don't always comment, but I hold things close to my heart. Thank you for allowing the Father to work in and through you.
I am so grateful that WMU found you or you found us -- I am even more grateful that we are friends and colleagues.
Merry Christmas to you and all your family.
I wish for you many Hope-filled moments!
Much love and appreciation…
I am speechless now like I was speechless then. In a time when I was looking for God, God was all around me. God was with me in the tears and God was with me in the steady presence of a friend and God was with me in the words that came from the heart of one of the women that I respect most in this world.
God, thank you for making yourself known to me…and God help me to be a steady presence and to speak words of hope and encouragement into the lives of those around me precisely in the moments that they need them most.
----------
What about you? What were the most spiritual moments of your year?
A couple of weeks ago, I had a full breakdown—you know, the kind where you’re not making much sense but you’re talking uncontrollably as tears fall from your eyes and down your face so hard that you cannot see straight and your nose is running and your face is red and puffy and you’re generally just all out of whack and the friend who is with you has absolutely no idea what to say or do and so she just listens and does her best to be a steady presence for you.
This breakdown was brought on by work—by the feeling that I don’t do a good job at my job—wondering if the time and effort that I put into the Facebook pages is worth it—if anyone reads the notes, if the statuses and questions make anyone think, if anything that I do is helping anyone grow spiritually—feeling like I am a bad WMU-er because I don’t do WMU things in traditional ways.
After about thirty minutes, when the tears subsided, I came to the conclusion that, regardless of known impact, I had to keep doing what I was doing—following God’s guidance to the best of my ability—trusting that something was happening even when I could not see…
In a parallel life, during the same moments of my breakdown, a dear, beautiful woman, was writing me an e-mail. This is what she said:
Hi Deanna,
I hope you had great fun with your nephews -- sounds like they really like their Aunt D. Now -- the real reason for this message.
As I reflect back over this year, I've seen you continue to grow in so many ways. Your writings almost always give me something to think about, laugh about and sometimes even cry over. Thank you for that. I don't always comment, but I hold things close to my heart. Thank you for allowing the Father to work in and through you.
I am so grateful that WMU found you or you found us -- I am even more grateful that we are friends and colleagues.
Merry Christmas to you and all your family.
I wish for you many Hope-filled moments!
Much love and appreciation…
I am speechless now like I was speechless then. In a time when I was looking for God, God was all around me. God was with me in the tears and God was with me in the steady presence of a friend and God was with me in the words that came from the heart of one of the women that I respect most in this world.
God, thank you for making yourself known to me…and God help me to be a steady presence and to speak words of hope and encouragement into the lives of those around me precisely in the moments that they need them most.
----------
What about you? What were the most spiritual moments of your year?
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Maybe Jesus Cried
So maybe it wasn’t a silent night (and)
maybe Mary screamed (and)
maybe the Wise Men didn’t find Jesus in a stable (and)
maybe Jesus cried (and)
maybe there wasn’t snow on the ground (and)
maybe it wasn’t even winter (and)
maybe the animals stank (and)
maybe meaning is more than a story (and)
maybe the story is more than “Merry Christmas” hanging over a
commercialized,
dumbified,
secularized,
polarized
modernized America that
maybe worships the imaginary, still-life manger scene
maybe more than the Man who lived to walk out of the hay.
maybe Mary screamed (and)
maybe the Wise Men didn’t find Jesus in a stable (and)
maybe Jesus cried (and)
maybe there wasn’t snow on the ground (and)
maybe it wasn’t even winter (and)
maybe the animals stank (and)
maybe meaning is more than a story (and)
maybe the story is more than “Merry Christmas” hanging over a
commercialized,
dumbified,
secularized,
polarized
modernized America that
maybe worships the imaginary, still-life manger scene
maybe more than the Man who lived to walk out of the hay.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
The Present of Presence
One of my favorite children's books is "The Gift of Nothing," by Patrick McDonnell. As Marinne Saccardi summarizes on Amazon.com:
This story features characters from McDonnell's comic strip Mutts. Mooch (a cat) wants to give Earl (a dog) a gift, but he already has a bowl, a bed, and even a chewy toy. In fact, he [has] it ALL. In a flash of inspiration, Mooch decides to give him nothing, and sets out to find it. Though the kids say there is nothing to do, they always seem to be doing something. And even though Millie says there [is] nothing to buy, Mooch finds plenty in the stores. In the end, he wraps a big box with nothing in it and presents it to his friend. There's nothing here, says Earl. Nothing…but me and you, Mooch replies. And that's the point. The text is minimal and the small cartoon drawings are executed in black and white with touches of red and surrounded by plenty of white space. As Mooch ponders over his dilemma, he is engulfed by question marks. The picture of the two friends sitting wrapped paw-in-paw as they enjoy nothing and everything is charming. A fine vehicle for a one-on-one discussion of the meaning of friendship and gift-giving.
As Christmas approaches and gift-buying abounds, my hope for you is that you will remember the point of this book:
It's not the money spent on gifts that matters the most in life (although gifts ARE very important to some people because receiving gifts is how they most feel loved) rather it is the gifts of presence and intentionality that make the most impact on those around you. You can spend hundreds of dollars on a nice gift for someone but have the gift mean little to person receiving it because the gift is distant and cold. On the contrary, you can spend just a few dollars on a gift that will mean the world to the receiver because the gift has significance to him/her and/or your relationship to him/her.
One of the nicest gifts I have ever received was a collage of words and magazine pictures that described me and the gift giver's impression of how I impacted the world. The gift cost little, but the meaning was deep. A gift that I give my grandmother each year is the gift of cards and stamps because writing her friends and family members is very important to her. I also go to Florida to see her. The gift may not seem like much, but to her it is very special.
So this Christmas, regardless of the amount of money that you do or do not have to spend, I challenge you to give the present of presence and to know that your presence in people's lives is a free, rich blessing--especially to the elders in your life. You might not have worldly riches to give--or the person to whom you're giving may seem to already have everything you can think of to give--yet you still have SOMETHING...and that something is the sometimes "nothing" of "me and you."
This story features characters from McDonnell's comic strip Mutts. Mooch (a cat) wants to give Earl (a dog) a gift, but he already has a bowl, a bed, and even a chewy toy. In fact, he [has] it ALL. In a flash of inspiration, Mooch decides to give him nothing, and sets out to find it. Though the kids say there is nothing to do, they always seem to be doing something. And even though Millie says there [is] nothing to buy, Mooch finds plenty in the stores. In the end, he wraps a big box with nothing in it and presents it to his friend. There's nothing here, says Earl. Nothing…but me and you, Mooch replies. And that's the point. The text is minimal and the small cartoon drawings are executed in black and white with touches of red and surrounded by plenty of white space. As Mooch ponders over his dilemma, he is engulfed by question marks. The picture of the two friends sitting wrapped paw-in-paw as they enjoy nothing and everything is charming. A fine vehicle for a one-on-one discussion of the meaning of friendship and gift-giving.
As Christmas approaches and gift-buying abounds, my hope for you is that you will remember the point of this book:
It's not the money spent on gifts that matters the most in life (although gifts ARE very important to some people because receiving gifts is how they most feel loved) rather it is the gifts of presence and intentionality that make the most impact on those around you. You can spend hundreds of dollars on a nice gift for someone but have the gift mean little to person receiving it because the gift is distant and cold. On the contrary, you can spend just a few dollars on a gift that will mean the world to the receiver because the gift has significance to him/her and/or your relationship to him/her.
One of the nicest gifts I have ever received was a collage of words and magazine pictures that described me and the gift giver's impression of how I impacted the world. The gift cost little, but the meaning was deep. A gift that I give my grandmother each year is the gift of cards and stamps because writing her friends and family members is very important to her. I also go to Florida to see her. The gift may not seem like much, but to her it is very special.
So this Christmas, regardless of the amount of money that you do or do not have to spend, I challenge you to give the present of presence and to know that your presence in people's lives is a free, rich blessing--especially to the elders in your life. You might not have worldly riches to give--or the person to whom you're giving may seem to already have everything you can think of to give--yet you still have SOMETHING...and that something is the sometimes "nothing" of "me and you."
Jesus Calling...Back To A Devotional Life
If I'm honest, then I must admit that I don't always do well with my "devotional life." I have plenty of devotion books and I've written/edited a few devotion books for others to use, yet I have struggled to have a daily devotion ever since college. I've gone through periods when I've been very diligent with my reading, praying, and writing...and then I've gone through of not.
While I have long moved past the guilt of not having a daily devotion--which is what drove me to do a daily devotion in high school and college--I have recently felt a deep longing to make an intentional effort to return to the daily devotion. While I spend all day, every day, talking to God and making efforts to be silent and listen to God, I yearn to know God more and to sense more of how God's spirit is working in my life, this ministry, and beyond.
A few weeks ago, I asked a good friend of mine if she'd be willing to read and discuss a devotion book with me. She said she would. We selected a devotion book called, "Jesus Calling," by Sarah Young. The devotions in this book are written from Jesus' point of view, and they come from Young's personal devotion times of listening to God with pen in hand. The devotions are meant to be read slowly, preferably in a quiet place...and they're so short that they can easily be read multiple times in order to let God's spirit speak.
It's odd how the Spirit speaks, too--how one sentence or phrase jumps out at me while another sentence or phrase jumpt out at my friend--or how we can each receive completely different meanings from the text even though we've heard the exact same words. But the Spirit is speaking and I have been blessed and challenged as I've been on this journey back into a devotional life that will take me deeper into Christ.
Here are a few of the sentences that have spoken to me:
When your focus is broad enough to include me in your thoughts, you feel safe and complete. When your perception narrows so that problems or details fill your consciousness, you feel empty and incomplete. Learn to look steadily at Me in all your moments and all your circumstances. Though the world is unstable and in flux, you can experience continuity through your uninterrupted awareness of my Presence.
Your needs and my riches are a perfect fit. I never meant for you to be self-sufficient.
Be willing to go out on a limb with me. If that is where I am leading you, then it is the safest place to be...If your primary focus is on me, you can walk along perilous paths without being afraid. Eventually, you will learn to relax and enjoy the adventure of our journey together.
I, the Creator of the universe, have deigned to co-create with you. Do not try to hurry this process...Hurry is not in my nature.
As you focus your mind and heart on me, you are being transformed: re-created into the one I designed you to be.
Rest in me, my child, forgetting about the worries of the world. Focus on me--Emmanuel--and let my living presence envelop you in Peace.
I am speaking in the depths of your being. Be still, so that you can hear my voice. I speak in the language of Love; My words fill you with Life and Peace, Joy and Hope.
What about you? Do you struggle to have an active devotional life, or is your devotional life a lifeline to your spiritual health? If the latter, what devotion book(s) do you use? If the former, what do you find to be your greatest struggle?
While I have long moved past the guilt of not having a daily devotion--which is what drove me to do a daily devotion in high school and college--I have recently felt a deep longing to make an intentional effort to return to the daily devotion. While I spend all day, every day, talking to God and making efforts to be silent and listen to God, I yearn to know God more and to sense more of how God's spirit is working in my life, this ministry, and beyond.
A few weeks ago, I asked a good friend of mine if she'd be willing to read and discuss a devotion book with me. She said she would. We selected a devotion book called, "Jesus Calling," by Sarah Young. The devotions in this book are written from Jesus' point of view, and they come from Young's personal devotion times of listening to God with pen in hand. The devotions are meant to be read slowly, preferably in a quiet place...and they're so short that they can easily be read multiple times in order to let God's spirit speak.
It's odd how the Spirit speaks, too--how one sentence or phrase jumps out at me while another sentence or phrase jumpt out at my friend--or how we can each receive completely different meanings from the text even though we've heard the exact same words. But the Spirit is speaking and I have been blessed and challenged as I've been on this journey back into a devotional life that will take me deeper into Christ.
Here are a few of the sentences that have spoken to me:
When your focus is broad enough to include me in your thoughts, you feel safe and complete. When your perception narrows so that problems or details fill your consciousness, you feel empty and incomplete. Learn to look steadily at Me in all your moments and all your circumstances. Though the world is unstable and in flux, you can experience continuity through your uninterrupted awareness of my Presence.
Your needs and my riches are a perfect fit. I never meant for you to be self-sufficient.
Be willing to go out on a limb with me. If that is where I am leading you, then it is the safest place to be...If your primary focus is on me, you can walk along perilous paths without being afraid. Eventually, you will learn to relax and enjoy the adventure of our journey together.
I, the Creator of the universe, have deigned to co-create with you. Do not try to hurry this process...Hurry is not in my nature.
As you focus your mind and heart on me, you are being transformed: re-created into the one I designed you to be.
Rest in me, my child, forgetting about the worries of the world. Focus on me--Emmanuel--and let my living presence envelop you in Peace.
I am speaking in the depths of your being. Be still, so that you can hear my voice. I speak in the language of Love; My words fill you with Life and Peace, Joy and Hope.
What about you? Do you struggle to have an active devotional life, or is your devotional life a lifeline to your spiritual health? If the latter, what devotion book(s) do you use? If the former, what do you find to be your greatest struggle?
Monday, December 13, 2010
The Fullness of God--Part Two
To look into the face of a newborn baby is to catch a glimpse of Creator God. It is to see a new life, a blank slate, and to hope for wonderful things to come.
I know that I did this when I looked into the face of my nephew for the very first time. After I got over my fear of breaking him when I held him, all I could do was look at him and pray for his life to be a blessing. I imagined him in school. I wondered if he would be popular and if the kids would like him. I imagined him in college and I wondered if he was going to become a teacher, a preacher, a lawyer, a musician, an engineer, a top business executive, an athlete, or the president. I held him close to my heart and sang sweet prayers of love over his life. Eight years later, he is one of the smartest kids I know and he is learning to play the piano. Yet so many questions are still left to answer. The possibilities of his life are still endless. And no matter what, I will always love him just as I do now and when he was born.
If I feel like that about my nephew, how much more did Mary feel for Jesus? As the shepherds spoke the truth of God’s announcement to her and the others who were near—that on that night a Savior who was Messiah and Master was born in stable in Bethlehem—Mary listened to their words and held them in her heart. She likely dreamed the possibilities of her son’s life and let her mind wonder about all the things he would say, do, and become. But never could she have imagined the full impact of his life.
Nor could the shepherds have imagined that the glory they beheld in Bethlehem would reach the whole world. After recognizing that God fulfills God’s promises and that God had come to earth in human form, the shepherds were left with no other option than to believe that the baby they were looking at was going to grow into someone truly special. But how could they have known that he would become a king whose throne of exaltation would be a cross and whose crown would be a crown of thorns? How could they have known that his kingdom would be the hearts of humankind and that his forgiveness would break the bonds of sin? How could they have known that his love would shatter the laws of cleanliness that had, for too long, kept them from formally worshiping God? They couldn’t have known! Yet they knew that they had beheld something spectacular, and so they left the stable that night praising and worshiping God for all that they had seen and heard.
Just like the shepherds, we may only catch a glimpse of Jesus, yet once we’ve seen him we know that our lives have been changed—we know that we have seen someone whose life and love offer us unending possibilities of grace. We may not know how things are going to turn out in the end—how the economic order will be made over to express the values of God, how the relationship between nations will be lifted above the law of the jungle into some redeeming expression of the law of love, how poverty will be eradicated, how pain and suffering will be lessened, how we will make it through our grief—but through Christ we can know that God’s love is unending and that his possibilities are greater than anything we have ever imagined.
The fullness of God is revealed in the unending possibilities of God’s love.
I know that I did this when I looked into the face of my nephew for the very first time. After I got over my fear of breaking him when I held him, all I could do was look at him and pray for his life to be a blessing. I imagined him in school. I wondered if he would be popular and if the kids would like him. I imagined him in college and I wondered if he was going to become a teacher, a preacher, a lawyer, a musician, an engineer, a top business executive, an athlete, or the president. I held him close to my heart and sang sweet prayers of love over his life. Eight years later, he is one of the smartest kids I know and he is learning to play the piano. Yet so many questions are still left to answer. The possibilities of his life are still endless. And no matter what, I will always love him just as I do now and when he was born.
If I feel like that about my nephew, how much more did Mary feel for Jesus? As the shepherds spoke the truth of God’s announcement to her and the others who were near—that on that night a Savior who was Messiah and Master was born in stable in Bethlehem—Mary listened to their words and held them in her heart. She likely dreamed the possibilities of her son’s life and let her mind wonder about all the things he would say, do, and become. But never could she have imagined the full impact of his life.
Nor could the shepherds have imagined that the glory they beheld in Bethlehem would reach the whole world. After recognizing that God fulfills God’s promises and that God had come to earth in human form, the shepherds were left with no other option than to believe that the baby they were looking at was going to grow into someone truly special. But how could they have known that he would become a king whose throne of exaltation would be a cross and whose crown would be a crown of thorns? How could they have known that his kingdom would be the hearts of humankind and that his forgiveness would break the bonds of sin? How could they have known that his love would shatter the laws of cleanliness that had, for too long, kept them from formally worshiping God? They couldn’t have known! Yet they knew that they had beheld something spectacular, and so they left the stable that night praising and worshiping God for all that they had seen and heard.
Just like the shepherds, we may only catch a glimpse of Jesus, yet once we’ve seen him we know that our lives have been changed—we know that we have seen someone whose life and love offer us unending possibilities of grace. We may not know how things are going to turn out in the end—how the economic order will be made over to express the values of God, how the relationship between nations will be lifted above the law of the jungle into some redeeming expression of the law of love, how poverty will be eradicated, how pain and suffering will be lessened, how we will make it through our grief—but through Christ we can know that God’s love is unending and that his possibilities are greater than anything we have ever imagined.
The fullness of God is revealed in the unending possibilities of God’s love.
The Fullness of God--Part One
God could have chosen to remain a distant God—a God high in the sky, looking down on his creation from above. Or God could have chosen to reveal himself in sheer terror and awe. Yet God chose to come near to human life in the form of a baby within the context of a human family. God drew near to humanity in a crude shelter in Bethlehem because life and love were there—because there was enough room for God to enter.
I heard a story once about a farmer who refused to believe that God would have chosen to come to earth in human form. I’ll call this farmer Steve. On Christmas Eve, however, while Steve’s family was at church, he began to believe. Here’s what happened: Christmas Eve that year was a cold, snowy night, so Steve had a fire burning in the living room as he lay in his recliner and watched TV. Suddenly, Steve heard a loud thud on the window. He tried to ignore the thud, but he couldn’t ignore it when he heard it again—and again—and again. Finally, he got up to see what was going on and he immediately noticed a couple of birds flying into his window. Feeling sorry for the birds—realizing that they only wanted to find a bit of warmth—Steve decided to try to direct them to his barn for the night. So Steve bundled up and got a flashlight and went out into the cold. He opened the barn doors and began waving his arms in an effort to guide the birds inside. Instead, the birds just kept flying into the window. Frustrated and cold, Steve thought to himself, “If only I were a bird. If only I could help them understand that the barn will provide them safety and warmth. If only I were a bird….” At the moment, Steve fell onto his knees and wept. At that moment, Steve understood: that’s why Jesus had come to earth. Jesus came in human form so that he could guide us—so that we would understand that it is him that we need to follow—so that we would understand that it is him that will guide us to safety and warmth.
And so Jesus did come. Jesus Christ, God’s son, came to earth in the form of a tiny baby that one Bethlehem night. An entrance as common as the dawn of a new day—out of his mother’s womb and into her arms—Jesus’ birth was nothing miraculous, and yet it was everything miraculous in the world. A king had been born into a simple family in a simple place. His birth was not heralded with trumpets or greeted by the important leaders of the land. Instead, his birth was celebrated with farm animals and greeted by shepherds—socially despised and economically deprived workers who were thought to be outside of religious respectability. Yet it was in those humble surroundings with those humble people that God chose to be born.
In a stable, there are no barriers. In a stable, all the poor, insignificant, unclean, forgotten people of the world can gather around the manger and dare to believe that the Babe who lies there belongs to them. God belongs to us just as we belong to God! God exists with us not in some strange, distant place but in the every day aspects of our lives. God is found in the familiar blessings of friendship and affection and in the daily beauty of patience and devotion. God is found in the dirty diapers and stuffy noses, in the crying baby at night when Mommy and Daddy just want to sleep, in the necessity of work, in the eyes of an ailing loved one. God is found in the humble surroundings of every day life. Do you see God in your life? Can you grasp how amazing it is to have a God who understands the joys and sorrows of life because he has been here in human form? Can you fathom that God has invited you, no matter how insignificant you feel, to visit him at the manger and beyond?
The fullness of God is revealed in God’s being born into this world in humble surroundings.
I heard a story once about a farmer who refused to believe that God would have chosen to come to earth in human form. I’ll call this farmer Steve. On Christmas Eve, however, while Steve’s family was at church, he began to believe. Here’s what happened: Christmas Eve that year was a cold, snowy night, so Steve had a fire burning in the living room as he lay in his recliner and watched TV. Suddenly, Steve heard a loud thud on the window. He tried to ignore the thud, but he couldn’t ignore it when he heard it again—and again—and again. Finally, he got up to see what was going on and he immediately noticed a couple of birds flying into his window. Feeling sorry for the birds—realizing that they only wanted to find a bit of warmth—Steve decided to try to direct them to his barn for the night. So Steve bundled up and got a flashlight and went out into the cold. He opened the barn doors and began waving his arms in an effort to guide the birds inside. Instead, the birds just kept flying into the window. Frustrated and cold, Steve thought to himself, “If only I were a bird. If only I could help them understand that the barn will provide them safety and warmth. If only I were a bird….” At the moment, Steve fell onto his knees and wept. At that moment, Steve understood: that’s why Jesus had come to earth. Jesus came in human form so that he could guide us—so that we would understand that it is him that we need to follow—so that we would understand that it is him that will guide us to safety and warmth.
And so Jesus did come. Jesus Christ, God’s son, came to earth in the form of a tiny baby that one Bethlehem night. An entrance as common as the dawn of a new day—out of his mother’s womb and into her arms—Jesus’ birth was nothing miraculous, and yet it was everything miraculous in the world. A king had been born into a simple family in a simple place. His birth was not heralded with trumpets or greeted by the important leaders of the land. Instead, his birth was celebrated with farm animals and greeted by shepherds—socially despised and economically deprived workers who were thought to be outside of religious respectability. Yet it was in those humble surroundings with those humble people that God chose to be born.
In a stable, there are no barriers. In a stable, all the poor, insignificant, unclean, forgotten people of the world can gather around the manger and dare to believe that the Babe who lies there belongs to them. God belongs to us just as we belong to God! God exists with us not in some strange, distant place but in the every day aspects of our lives. God is found in the familiar blessings of friendship and affection and in the daily beauty of patience and devotion. God is found in the dirty diapers and stuffy noses, in the crying baby at night when Mommy and Daddy just want to sleep, in the necessity of work, in the eyes of an ailing loved one. God is found in the humble surroundings of every day life. Do you see God in your life? Can you grasp how amazing it is to have a God who understands the joys and sorrows of life because he has been here in human form? Can you fathom that God has invited you, no matter how insignificant you feel, to visit him at the manger and beyond?
The fullness of God is revealed in God’s being born into this world in humble surroundings.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
In the Connection of The Dots
"Your awareness of my presence falters and flickers; as a result, your life experience feels fragmented. When your focus is broad enough to include me in your thoughts, you feel safe and complete. When your perception narrows so that problems or details fill your consciousness, you feel empty and incomplete. Learn to look steadily at me in all your moments and all your circumstances. Though the world is unstable and in flux, you can experience continuity through your uninterrupted awareness of my presence." --Sarah Young
As I read this today, an image formed in my mind:
I think sometimes we think of our lives in dots. We mark an event with one dot, the next major event with another dot, the next with another, etc. and then when we think back on our lives or project forward with our thoughts, we see only the dots of major events. While it is true that life occurs during those dots, it must be remembered that so much more of life occurs during the connections. It's like a game of connect the dots. The dots alone don't look like much. But when you add the lines of connection between, the picture becomes perfectly clear.
I imagine that God, through Time, creates with us the line of connection between. And I imagine that the journey from one dot to the next is the place where God in God's richness most fully dwells. The line may be straight. Or it may be jagged. Or it may be crooked. Or it may be swirly. There are endless possibilities in how connections can be made--in what we can create with God--and, really, I think that's the beauty and joy that we get to experience in life.
I fear that too often, however, we reduce our lives to "dots"--to definite points--to right and wrong--to good and bad--and we create for ourselves situations that limit us in fear rather than open us to possibility. I fear that too often we limit God to the dots, too--to the right job, to the right partner, to the right mission trip, to the right opportunity--and cause ourselves to believe that if we make a wrong decision--or choose the wrong dot--then God will not be there. And that burdens me so deeply...because that's not the God that I know and love.
The God that I know and love is the God who is with us at all times, at all places of our journey, influencing all decisions, creating opportunities for growth and redemption at all times, and nurturing God's spirit of steady love in all things. The God that I know and love--the God who desires that I be aware of his uninterrupted presence--does not harshly stand with a clipboard and wait for me to choose THE one right dot, rather he helps me draw the line that will take me to where I need to go and then continues to be with me when I get there.
I don't know how all of the dots of my life will fit together or what picture they will make in the end. But I do know this: I will seek to make my daily focus broad enough to include God in all my moments and circumstances and I will do my best not to limit my life or our God to the dots of major life events. I don't want to be fragmented, empty, or incomplete. And I believe that seeing God in the big picture of life--in the lines that connect the dots--WILL allow me to feel whole, safe, and complete.
I hope that you can believe the same.
As I read this today, an image formed in my mind:
I think sometimes we think of our lives in dots. We mark an event with one dot, the next major event with another dot, the next with another, etc. and then when we think back on our lives or project forward with our thoughts, we see only the dots of major events. While it is true that life occurs during those dots, it must be remembered that so much more of life occurs during the connections. It's like a game of connect the dots. The dots alone don't look like much. But when you add the lines of connection between, the picture becomes perfectly clear.
I imagine that God, through Time, creates with us the line of connection between. And I imagine that the journey from one dot to the next is the place where God in God's richness most fully dwells. The line may be straight. Or it may be jagged. Or it may be crooked. Or it may be swirly. There are endless possibilities in how connections can be made--in what we can create with God--and, really, I think that's the beauty and joy that we get to experience in life.
I fear that too often, however, we reduce our lives to "dots"--to definite points--to right and wrong--to good and bad--and we create for ourselves situations that limit us in fear rather than open us to possibility. I fear that too often we limit God to the dots, too--to the right job, to the right partner, to the right mission trip, to the right opportunity--and cause ourselves to believe that if we make a wrong decision--or choose the wrong dot--then God will not be there. And that burdens me so deeply...because that's not the God that I know and love.
The God that I know and love is the God who is with us at all times, at all places of our journey, influencing all decisions, creating opportunities for growth and redemption at all times, and nurturing God's spirit of steady love in all things. The God that I know and love--the God who desires that I be aware of his uninterrupted presence--does not harshly stand with a clipboard and wait for me to choose THE one right dot, rather he helps me draw the line that will take me to where I need to go and then continues to be with me when I get there.
I don't know how all of the dots of my life will fit together or what picture they will make in the end. But I do know this: I will seek to make my daily focus broad enough to include God in all my moments and circumstances and I will do my best not to limit my life or our God to the dots of major life events. I don't want to be fragmented, empty, or incomplete. And I believe that seeing God in the big picture of life--in the lines that connect the dots--WILL allow me to feel whole, safe, and complete.
I hope that you can believe the same.
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