The Good Shepherd

 

I always thought the “Jesus the Good Shepherd” story in John 10 was a story of separating who was in and who was out—

A judgement of sorts, 

With Jesus as the ultimate judge. 

Believe in Jesus and you’re in. 

Don’t believe in Jesus and you’re out. 

But I was wrong. 

 

Sheep enclosures provide boundaries. 

And boundaries are good. 

Boundaries provide safety and a place to be held. 

They provide comfort and healing, 

familiarity and rest. 

Yet the pasture is where the green grass is, 

The nourishment, 

The joys of life, 

The freedom to roam. 

 

Jesus invites us to both. 

And Jesus positions himself as the gate that both draws sheep into safety and guides them out to live. 

 

This is not a you’re in, you’re out story. 

It  is not a story to use to draw lines of judgment, and 

It is not a story about eternity. 

 

This is a story about Christ’s love for all who will hear it and follow it to safety and rest and comfort and healing 

SO THAT they can follow him back out into the world and live. 

It is a story about the here and now, 

And listening to and following the one who laid down his life for us so that we might “have life and have it abundantly.”

 

Amen. 

Bird

 

Have you ever had a bird fly at your head? I have. A couple of times. And it always frightens me!  Today’s note from 4.18.16, recalls one of those times—and it happened in the middle of class! 

 

—-

 

Each Spring, birds arrive at Deaton Manor and make it their home. They surround the house with singing and build nests anywhere they can find. In the bird house. In hanging baskets. In flowerpots. In empty spaces in the garage.

 

Because of this yearly bird presence at the house, I’ve seen the lost, misplaced, and/or startled bird look many times. Mostly, the frantic, wings flapping rapidly, desperate to find a safe place look occurs when a bird accidently flies into the garage or when an intruder comes near a nest.

 

In those moments, I feel particularly helpless. I stand there and point to wide-open doors and tell the bird how to escape—sometimes attempting to guide it with a broom or other long object—but I guess I’m not fluent in bird because the bird usually just ends up panicking more. One time, a bird got stuck inside the garage for many hours. It would try to get out, fail, panic, and then return to a temporary resting place that it’d found on the garage door. It was awful. There was nothing I could do except hope that it didn’t run into the window so many times that it committed accidental bird suicide. I watched that happen one time, too. It was very sad.

 

So today during 5th grade music when a bird suddenly flew through the door of my classroom, I involuntarily said, “Oh crap!” and ducked for cover. The bird was heading straight toward me, already in a panic. In that split second, I had no idea what I was supposed to do! I knew that I didn’t have a garage door or anywhere else on which the bird could perch. I knew that the windows were over my students’ heads. I knew that there was only one way out of the room—which was the direction from which the bird had come. And I knew that there was no way to have class with a bird flying frantically around the room!

 

All I could think to do was open the other door and hope that between the two openings the bird would escape. Meanwhile, I had to continue ducking for cover, hoping that the bird wouldn’t  run into me or poop on my head, and I had to figure out what to do with my students who, naturally, were as surprised as me! I didn’t want a bird pooping on their heads either!

 

Thankfully, before I could even get the second door open, the bird turned itself around and safely exited the room.

 

Then I bent down, ran my fingers through my hair, exhaled, and laughed. The kids laughed, too, all starting to talk at once. One of them said that the look on my face was priceless. Another said that he didn’t know what was going on—that I was teaching and then all of a sudden he heard me say, “Uh oh!” and bend down and then he saw the bird. It took us at least five minutes to get settled again, and then I saw it:

 

The bird had, indeed, pooped!

 

In the 5-10 seconds during which this entire episode occurred, the bird had pooped behind my desk. The poop landed on a yellow envelope of Honors Chorus music that was sitting on a cloth-covered chair. 

 

Thank you, bird, for having good aim, even in your moment of panic. 

 

Thank you, too, for providing my 5th graders with the one moment of their three years of music with me that they will probably not forget.

 

And finally, thank you for making me laugh. 

 

Yes, you startled me as much as you startled yourself. But you made me laugh. And laughter is what so many of us need these days. I think it helps us make it through the crap that life drops our way. I know it did today.

 

Amen. 

Hindsight is a Beautiful Thing

 

Hindsight is a beautiful thing. 

In the midst of living life, 

We oftentimes can’t see what we are learning or how we are growing. 

We oftentimes can’t see God’s presence in real time. 

But looking back, we can see it.

Looking back, we can tell a different story of knowledge, growth, and God’s steady presence of love. 

 

I admit. 

I have oftentimes judged the disciples. 

I’ve seen them as a bit dumb and dimwitted,

Unable to recognize Jesus for who he was. 

But last week it struck me:

Of course they couldn’t recognize Jesus for who he was. 

He was not only the promised Messiah—

Which maybe they could have gotten—

But He was also God Incarnate!

There was no category for that—

No expectation for God to show Godself in flesh and blood. 

The expectation for seeing God was 

Vision, dream, supernatural voice, earthquake, fire, or angel. 

The expectation for seeing God was not God appearing in plain sight and walking the earth as a fellow human being!

 

So hindsight is a beautiful thing. 

It helped the disciples and mothers and fathers of the early church to

Put together the pieces of scripture that show Jesus as the promised Messiah 

And to put together the pieces of scripture and the words of Jesus himself that show that Jesus is God and that God is communal in Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,

Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. 

 

When I first started counseling,

My counselor, Jenny, said that we were going to go back and retell some stories of my past and see things differently in the outcome.

I argued with her.

I said the past is the past and I can’t change it. 

The events are clear. The actions happened. They can’t be argued. 

But now I realize that she was right.

We can retell the stories of our past, 

And the outcome can be different.

Maybe not in what happened, 

But in the realization of where God was and what God was doing to grow and teach us.

 

Don’t get me wrong. 

We can’t dismiss looking for God in the present. 

We can’t think that God is unseeable now. 

God is. 

Our work is to stay present in the moment. 

But sometimes,

Even the most present of us cannot understand what is happening in the middle of a storm. 

Sometimes we need time, 

Distance,

Space, and 

Hindsight 

To help us truly see God. 

 

May you grant yourself hindsight today, 

And may you, 

Like the disciples, 

Look back and see God in your midst, 

Day in and day out, 

Walking among you in love. 

 

Amen. 

Where My Demons Hide

 

Today’s Throwback Thursday takes us to  4.14.16. Over a decade later, I still think about “The Passion” and listen to songs from the soundtrack.

 

——

 

A few weeks ago, on Palm Sunday, a live performance of “The Passion” was aired on Fox. Before watching, I didn’t know exactly what the production entailed—just that it was a modern version of the last week of Jesus’ life, that it was set in New Orleans, and that it was rumored to be quite powerful.

 

I confess: When the special first began I wasn’t overly impressed. I thought that the next two hours were simply going to be filled with songs and narration like a modern music awards show—but I was wrong. It was similar. Yet it was so much more. It was focused and centered around a life-changing theme. And it presented Christ’s message of love, grace, and hope in a powerful way.

 

I ordered the soundtrack.

 

The first time I listen to it, I found myself sobbing. I’m not talking about leaking a few tears, I’m talking about full blown “ugly-crying.” Out of the blue, I felt like my heart was going to explode in gratitude for Christ’s unwavering love and grace.

 

The song that caused this catharsis was “Demons” by Imagine Dragons. The characters were Judas and Jesus. The emotions were defeat and anguish. Judas was defeated by his own humanity and in anguish over his inability to escape his demons. Jesus was defeated by misunderstanding and betrayal and in anguish over his friends’ inability to accept unconditional love. 

 

On some days, I am Judas. On others, I am closer to Jesus. I get it. The core of me gets it. Maybe you get it, too? 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b8oe4KHMUVE

 "Demons" as sung in The Passion

Judas: When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold
When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood’s run stale
I wanna hide the truth

Jesus: I wanna shelter you

Judas: But with the beast inside

Judas and Jesus: There’s nowhere we can hide

Judas: No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed

Jesus: This is my kingdom come
This is my kingdom come

Judas: When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide
Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide

Jesus: It’s where your demons hide

Judas: At the curtain’s call
It's the last of all
When the lights fade out
All the sinners crawl

Jesus: So they dug your grave
And the masquerade
Will come calling out
At the mess you made
Don't wanna let you down

Judas: But I am hell bound

Jesus: Though this is all for you

Jesus and Judas: Don't wanna hide the truth

Judas: No matter what we breed
We still are made of greed

Jesus: This is my kingdom come

Judas: This is my kingdom come
When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide
Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide

Jesus: It’s where your demons hide

Judas: They say it's what you make
I say it's up to fate
It's woven in my soul
I need to let you go

Jesus: Your eyes, they shine so bright
I wanna save that light
I can't escape this now
Unless you show me how

Judas: When you feel my heat
Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide
Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

Quality Time

 

I had the opportunity to help lead a retreat over the weekend.

Overall, the weekend was very good but two moments stuck out to me more than any other. 

 

First, I asked Facebook for some suggestions on songs dealing with love.

I received a lot of great song suggestions and promptly put them on the playlist. 

What I did not expect was that the playlist would be so popular and that participants would sing-along.

But sure, enough, as we were painting rocks to give away as random acts of kindness,

The ladies all started singing, 

“Just like me, they long to be, close to you,” and 

“All you need is love, love is all you need.”

The spontaneous singing made me smile.

In general, we don’t burst into song enough!

 

Second, while doing a group storytelling activity,

The ladies cackled in laughter!

One person would say two or three words, then the next person would say something, then the next, and then the next.

I don’t remember what exactly the stories were,

But I know that they included bears and flamingos and visions of God and lots of other very random things.

 

The retreat was focused on the five love languages. 

One of the five love languages is quality time.  

Time sitting together and singing, 

Time spent listening to one another, 

Time telling stories, 

Time laughing,

Time crafting,

Time studying scripture,

Time reading liturgy…

All of that time was quality time

With one another 

And with God. 

 

May we be a people of quality time, 

Loving though our presence and intention, 

Bursting into song, and 

Living life together as co-creators with God. 

 

Amen. 

Come Back, Just Come

 

April is National Poetry Month. In April 2016, I was cleaning some books and found a poem that made me cry. It’s called “Come Back Safely,” and it’s by Sylva Gaboudikan.  She writes: 

 

even to say good-bye

even if it’s the last time

even reluctantly

 

even to hurt me again

even with the harsh acid

of sarcasm that stings

 

even with a new kind of pain

even fresh from the embrace

of another. Come back, just come.

 

I went on to reflect:

 

When we look at scripture, we see that Jesus was the first person who truly saw Mary Magdalene. Jesus saw through Mary’s brokenness and believed in her as the woman that she actually was: a beautiful child of God. No matter what she had done—or would do. No matter how lonely she was—or would become. Jesus saw her and believed in her. He loved her and transformed her. Then he was gone. He was dead. And she was devastated—left with a hole in her heart where love and friendship used to be.

 

I am very thankful that I’ve not lost many friends to death. But I have lost many friends. When natural time and distance play their part in the losing, I understand the loss. I understand the seasons of life and that people come and go as one progresses along life’s journey. Because of my tremendous capacity to love and remember, I miss these friendships and think of them often. Sometimes I feel as if I have credits rolling through my brain, listening all of the characters from various points of life.

 

It’s when someone cuts me off that I find myself devastated like Mary Magdalene. It happens suddenly—possibly after clues of its coming—but suddenly nonetheless. Drastically. A cut. A nail. A figurative death. And then they are gone. Someone who has been a friend—who has seen me and whom I have seen—who has loved me and whom I have loved—who has laughed with me and whose tears I have dried—is gone. And it hurts. And it leaves a hole in my heart. And I grieve from the depths of my being.

 

For Mary Magdalene, there was resolve to this deep grief in this life. Jesus returned. He came back and restored her broken heart, offering such deep hope and transformative power that Mary Magdalene’s life and story would rise above society’s discrimination and be remembered for thousands of years to come.

 

For me, though, there likely will not be resolve in this life. For whatever reason, friends likely will not return. Restoration likely will not occur. And yet I live with quiet hope and open my arms and heart with unconditional love and forgiveness. “Come back,” my soul prays, “just come.”

 

Amen. 

The Importance of Creating

 

I want to be a good visual artist, I do. 

And I do okay when someone is guiding me step by step. 

But when left on my own, 

to create something new, 

I find that images get stuck in my head

And I don’t know how to get them out. 

Landscapes, animals, people, or anything realistic become out of reach and so

Abstract I go, 

Usually with rainbow colors, 

Because choosing color palettes is not a forte either! 

 

So when Barb the Great introduced me to neurographic art last week, I latched on. 

No matter what you start with, 

No matter where you begin, 

No matter what colors you choose, 

You end up successful,

With something lovely to show. 

And almost lost importantly than that, 

The process is literally healing. 

Slowing down, 

Setting an intention, 

Drawing a line, 

Smoothing out the rough edges, 

Adding color. 

It’s very calming and very symbolic of what time can do to the rough edges of life. 

 

Over the weekend, I had a little bout with anxiety. 

To me, anxiety feels sharp and piercing,

Like a cut. 

I employed all my dealing with irrational anxiety tools:

Breathing, 

Writing,

Naming it, 

Talking through it, 

Centering on reality, 

Reminding myself that my future self can handle what is to come. 

But I decided to employ one more tool over the weekend: 

Neurographic art. 

 

I made the lines cut on the page. 

They were harsh and dramatic. 

Then I smoothed out the jagged edges and felt them soften. 

Then I painted. 

I concentrated all my thoughts on the movement from dark to light. 

And what emerged was absolutely gorgeous on its own, 

But even more so knowing where it began. 

 

We live in a time where life will try to stifle our creativity.

It will tell us that we do not have the time or talent to create. 

Do not listen to those voices, dear friends. 

Find your art or craft and resist the lies of this world. 

You are capable. 

You are good enough. 

You can create. 

And you can transform both the world and yourself in the process. 

 

Amen. 

It's Okay To Be Happy

 

Thanks to the hospitality of some friends,

I was able to visit the beach for a couple of days. 

While away, I ate at a few waterfront restaurants, went on a boat ride, looked for sand dollars on a secluded sand bar, looked for Native American pottery shards on a secluded island, went to a movie, sat on the beach, collected shells, watched a sunset, played some games, wrote some poems, and learned a new watercolor activity. 

I had a tremendous time. 

And it wasn’t so much that I was doing out of the ordinary things. 

It was that I was doing them with intention and purpose, 

Fully alive and fully present

Without worry of what was going to happen next.

 

While on the boat, I was feeling the breeze on my face. 

While looking for sand dollars, I was watching my feet wade through the water.

While looking for pottery shards, I was being careful not to step on an oyster shell. 

While sitting on the beach, I was basking in the sun. 

While making art, I was channeling intention. 

I wasn’t worrying about everything that needed to be done at home. 

I wasn’t fretting about everything that could go wrong in the future.

I wasn’t ruminating on death and dying. 

I wasn’t comparing my life to others, wishing I had more or feeling guilty for not having less. 

I was simply present, 

Grateful, 

And happy. 

 

I used to be afraid to be happy.

I used to live in fear of when happiness would end and sadness would strike.

I used to feel guilty for being happy when so many others were miserable.

I used to always wait for the other shoe to fall, 

Not as a natural rhythm to life,

But as some type of punishment or consequence for being bad, 

As some type of game by a not so loving God.

 

As I sat on the beach this week, though,

And I watched a surfer ride the waves as they flowed,

I realized that the movement of the ocean really is the movement of life.

Sometimes it’s gentle, sometimes it’s rough.

Sometimes we float over the waves, sometimes they crash over us.

There are highs and there are lows. 

But there is always movement and always more to come.

 

Yes, there will be days of worry, stress, and sadness.

There will be days of grief and death and dying, and I have no idea when they will come, and they make me sick with anticipation. 

But I know now that they are not punishment or a sadistic game from a not so loving God,

Rather they are a natural part of life, 

Just as happiness is a natural part of life.

 

On this Maundy Thursday,

When Jesus experienced the full gamut of emotions,

From contentment in humble service to agony in sacrifice and betrayal, 

May we experience what we are experiencing, 

Whether it be what the world defines as good or bad,

Happy or sad,

A loving God is in it all,

Working to make all things right,

Rejoicing when we rejoice,

Weeping when we weep,

Commanding us to, above all else, love one another,

And truly experience this life we have been given, 

Even when life is good. 

 

Amen.