Would I

Would I answer the call

If He were here?

Would I drop everything

And follow Him?

To know Him

To love Him

To walk and talk with Him

In the flesh

In the spirit

Would I?


Linking With Still Saturday

Fishing and Feeding His Flock

Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.

Galatians 1:10

"I don't judge."

He said it over a campfire in the mountains of Arizona, hot chocolate steaming in the white, styrofoam cup held in both hands.  It was cold; the stars, the countless myriad stars, were spilled like precious gems across the depths of space above us.  Vault of heaven.  It took my breath away.

"I don't judge."  But you do, I thought.  Just by that statement, you do.  We were sitting at the picnic table - wood, shellacked and smooth, worn by weather and campers - not cold metal tubes.  Not modern.  Not new.  It had taken awhile to get the fire started because of the rain that afternoon.  Rain while we were fishing together.  Fishing for trout.  With marshmallows.

Funny what I remember.  Salmon eggs and marshmallows.  A double-hooked line.  Spaced about a foot and a half apart, a lead weight pressed on at the the bottom.  I would cast the whole contraption out - feel the bottom hit, tighten up the line - then wait.  I could picture it, the line diving from the surface of the lake, extending diagonally away from shore to that little pebble of split lead, resting on the bottom.  Between, floating in the rocky depths, one hook above and slightly in front of the other, dangling bait - those bright red and white buttons, hiding the point and barb, hiding the metal - dissolving into the water in an inviting cloud of yum.  Yum for the fish.  Yum for me.

If I kept my finger on the line, I could feel those first tentative nibbles, the tiny movement traveling in pulses.  I loved the timing - carefully pull the pole in closer and close my hand on the reel.  I imagined myself a fish at the bait.   Test - test - oh it's good.  Bite.  At the bite, I yanked back and started winding in.  At that instant I knew - I had it, or I didn't.  They fought hard, those trout.

And then, at the end of the day, the campfire.  Cleaning the catch, grilling it over the flames with a little butter and salt.  Oh, but it was delicious.  Flaky, melt-in-your-mouth, fresh.  Satisfying.  Then, the hot chocolate and solving the problems of the world, tall pines silhouetted against the bright, bright stars.

I tried to explain to him.  That he was.  That judging was the idea that something or someone was right or wrong, good or bad, better or worse - it was a choice.  That he was choosing NOT to.  That his choice was in the NOT; it was his judgement about judging.

Funny what I remember.

Because lately, I've been reading a lot about what it means to write Christian material, and create Christian art.  It's too saccharin sweet.  I read.  Life isn't all fluffy, and pretty, it's not all a Thomas Kinkade painting.  I read.  I would rather be considered a secular author, than wear the Christian label.  I read.  Zondervan wouldn't publish my work; it visits too many dark places.  I read.

Labels.  Judgement.  Better.  Worse.  Right.  Wrong.  Good.  Bad.

Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life; 

no one comes to the Father but through Me.

If you choose to write or create only part of the truth in this broken world - only the darkness and the squalor, only evil, only sadness, sickness, disaster - then yes, you belong in the secular world.  But when Jesus is in your heart, then He will show up in your work; glimmers of His light will shine through the brokenness - hope, redemption, grace, healing, faith, joy, love - the rest of the truth...  Own up.  You are a Christian.  You've been hooked.  You can't help but be changed by the Holy Spirit.   You are feeding His lambs.  You are taking care of His sheep.  Indeed, you are feeding His flock.

Father in Heaven, thank you for this new day.  Thank you for changing me, for changing my heart, for forgiving my wrongs.  Help me to live today to glorify you, to proclaim the name of your Son in my words, my actions, and my thoughts. 

Linking with Faith Filled Friday, and Fellowship Friday

The Man in the Ivory Tower

The angel answered, "I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to tell you this good news. 

Luke 1:19

And here it is again - the unimaginable, the undefinable - that detail that throws my entire sense of reality right out the window.  Yes, I'm referring to the passage above.  It's in the tense.   I am.... I stand... I have been sent.  I guess it comes down to faith and belief and how you understand the stories in the Bible.  And now I'm about to hang my theological undergarments on the line - for all the neighbors to see...

I have a hard time with some of the arguments I hear in Christian theology:  creationists versus evolutionists, the actual existence of heaven and hell, the number of angels who can dance on the head of a pin...  They seem to come mostly from reading the Bible literally, or allegorically, or metaphorically... Which in and of itself, I don't mind.  Where I get frustrated is when someone tells me that their understanding is the only way - when they tell me it's not an either/or; it's an IS.

I've been teaching fifth-grade math for the past six years.  I like math.  It's logical and sequential; the skills build; the pieces 'fit'.  I joke with my students sometimes.  Fifth-graders are fun; they're not quite sure whether to believe me when I tell them there's a guy in an ivory tower who spends all his time making up special vocabulary for math concepts, and that we just have to learn them because he's the big math boss.  And then sometimes I tell them the actual etymology of the math terms they need to know.  I think they like the idea of the guy in the ivory tower better - but they always look at me with those I-don't-quite-believe-you-because-you're-joking-with-me---right? eyes.  The concept of having some stranger, somewhere, dictate what you know and what you don't know - what you have to learn - makes them balk.   But why?  They raise their hands.  Why do I have to know this word?  this concept?  this skill?  I know I've been somewhat successful when one of them looks at me, with all of that fifth-grade wisdom and sincerity, and says It's that man in the ivory tower again, isn't it? 

So, sometimes, I feel like there's a man an ivory tower telling me how I'm supposed to read and understand the Bible.  The man with the IS seems to have a pretty narrow vision - almost like he's wearing those shields on his eyes like they put on horses to keep them from using their peripheral vision - blinders.

But God is so far beyond our understanding, that it makes sense to me He would be capable of a Bible that can be read in different ways and understood in different ways.  Theology 101.  Does it matter if the earth was created or evolved?  Does it change my belief and faith in God?  No.  My God is capable of doing both - along with countless other miracles we don't even know about - and he's capable of doing them all in the same time and place - or in countless other times and places - because HE IS GOD.

So, here it is again - the unimaginable, the undefinable - that detail that throws my entire sense of reality right out the window.  I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to tell you this good news.   For so many reasons.  First, this angel of God is standing in the presence of Zechariah, husband to Elizabeth, father to John the Baptist.  An angel.  And not just any angel - but the angel Gabriel, one of God's highest ranking angels.  How often does that happen?  I looked it up - three times.  He visited Daniel to explain a dream.  He visited Zechariah to tell of John's impending birth.  He appeared to Mary, mother of Jesus.  

Do I believe this story?  Yes.  Not only is the angel speaking to Zechariah - he is at the same time, standing in the presence of God.  At the same time.  Imagine that!  See, I don't think God and his angels operate under our rules of logic and sequence.  They can't be defined by that man in the ivory tower.  And the man in the ivory tower, with his limited knowledge and vision of all that is God, couldn't make up the tense.  No one can be in two places at the same time.  Well - maybe angels, and well, yes, God....

See, even in the story of announcing the birth of John the Baptist, God has hidden a little message.  Just like Gabriel's presence is not an either/or - he exists in Zechariah's presence at the same time as he stands in God's - neither is our reading and understanding of Scripture.  It doesn't have to be a choice - a man-in-the-ivory-tower rule.  The Bible is God-breathed and God-inspired.  Sometimes literal.  Sometimes metaphor.  Sometimes allegory.  Always God.   Amazing, mind-bending, imagination-expanding.  Messages to us.  He must really love us to try so hard...

Father in Heaven, amazing that I can call you that, that I can address you in prayer and know that you hear me.  Thank you for your Son, Jesus, who took away our sins to make this communication possible.  Thank you for the gift of your book, your messages to us.  Thank you for your love.

Let It Go

The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him;  

it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD. 

Lamentations 3:25-26

We wake up pretty early in our home - before four - because my husband has to go on post and lead his soldiers in PT - physical training.  Early.  I've found that if I don't get up with him, then my entire schedule becomes different than his - which means we don't really live together.  Well, yes, we live in the same home - but we don't live in the same time.  We don't eat together.  We don't talk together.  We don't see and hear the same news, or shows, or attend the same events.  We have no common discussion because we - don't - live  - together.  We learned this the hard way.

So we have just enough time to share coffee, check the weather, and discuss the 'state of the household' before he leaves.  Not much - but important.   We've had some practice.  By the time he goes out the door, we both know what's for dinner and what time to have it ready.  We know whether he's coming home at lunch or breakfast.  We know if either of us needs to do an errands, or spend any money.  By the time he goes out the door, we've usually had a chance to comment on the day's headline stories - quick-judgement comments that tell more about our relationship than about the news itself.  And we don't always agree.

We save up for discussions.  For when we have the luxury of spending real time together - time to look beyond our household, time to throw our own blanket of beliefs across events beyond our personal lives.  It's kind of fun - solving the world's problems with my husband.   Especially when we bring our different backgrounds and experiences to the table.  Especially when we are able to see situations from different viewpoints.  And personally, I am fascinated by the way my husband thinks.  He has a way of rendering the fat out of information - clarifying - He has a way of recognizing what is important.

It's a big picture thing.  He sees beyond the present moment; good and bad consequences - fallout from this or that action.  It's a talent.  A gift.  He calms me with his vision - is it a matter of life and death? - he'll ask, when I tell him about my fears and anxieties.  

No....  

Then don't worry so much.  Do what you can do - do it the best you can - and then let it go.

Oh.  Oh yeah.  I know that.  I forget, sometimes, in the moment, in the confusion, in the stress.  

Sometimes, the best you can do is hope in God.  He is good.  Sometimes, the best you can do is continue the things you have been taught - pray, study, conduct yourself well.  Sometimes, the best you can do is wait.  It worked for the Israelites in Babylon - it worked for the disciples in Galilee - it works for me.

Do what you can do - do it the best you can - and then let it go.

Heavenly Father, sometimes I worry about things I have no control over.  Sometimes I worry about situations in my life and the lives of my family.  Sometimes, I just plain worry about the state of the world.  Thank you for reminding me:  I can pray.  I can study.  And with Your help, I can conduct myself well.  When I put my hope in You, then I can wait.  Then I can be still and let it go.

Are You the One?

Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, 

and will call him Immanuel.

Isaiah 7:14

Are you the one?  A single thought, tiny, small, insistent.

Movement, like a hiccough, deep inside.  She imagined a perfectly formed foot, a perfectly formed hand, a miracle.  She rested her palm on the mound her stomach had become.  The mound she had kept hidden from prying stares and accusing glances.  She rested her palm on the blooming of the child inside.

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart

The words of the prophet whispered to her.  Words she had learned in the temple, words from the old books, words that unwound like the scrolls, unwound and comforted these last months.  God is good, she thought, even as she felt another twinge deep in her belly - a twinge from the new life she carried.

Are you the one?  She had wakened early, before the birth of the day; it was her favorite time, when she could be still with her thoughts.  Thoughts of her husband-to-be, offering marriage even in this condition - placing himself between her and the gossips, the doubters, the law.  Thoughts of her parents, trying to understand, trying to believe, trying to hold their heads up in this oh-so-small village of everybody's business.

Are you the one?  The question lingered - as much in her head as in her heart.  Again the memory of that one night, so long ago now, when she had been visited by a servant of Glory.

The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. 

Fear not.  Easier said than done, she thought.  The angel had come to her, frightening in his brilliance - the light of God was more than her earthly eyes could behold.  He had calmed her enough to hear and understand his message.  And she had agreed.  Shaking her head, she'd had no choice, really.  The fear remained at bay, held off by her faith in the goodness of her God.  Fear of gossip.  Fear of her future.  Fear of impending motherhood.  Fear for the child she carried.  She prayed, under her breath and out of sight.

God, do you hear me?  I am not enough for this.  Who could be enough for You, for your Son of Glory?  I am Your humble servant; I am but a girl.  If He is the One, truly, then what do I do, oh God of the Ages?  How do I raise this Holy Prince?  

The household was beginning to waken; she saw the glow of a lamp reaching up the steps to the rooftop where she had been praying.  Pulling her robes around her growing bulk, she paused to absorb the lightening of the new day.  Her mouth began to smile even as tears formed in her eyes.

The vision she had seen in that pause, in that moment, caused her thought to change .... You are the one!  The Chosen One!  Simple word order made the question into a statement - solid and real.  The vision had been instantaneous - a series of glimpses - a baby, pink and new, swaddled and secure - a tousle-haired boy running, fingers trailing through a field of gold - an older child sitting at the feet of a rabbi - a carpenter and help to her husband - a teacher, smiling and welcoming - a healer....beautiful glimpses of a full life, humanity-full of laughter and love.  But she had also seen glimpses of lonely, of darkness, of temptation, of sacrifice and soldiers - a dove alighting on a cross...

You are the one! The Chosen One!

Chosen.  She knew what it was like to be chosen.  Different.  Set apart.  Isolated.  Except for her God who gave her peace.  Especially in the early morning time.  She knew she rested in His Hand - just as this growing child was resting inside of her - protected and nourished - deep, secure, sheltered by her own body.

She knew.  And in that moment, she knew how to raise him - as only a mother could.  Her child.  Her son.  She would raise him to honor his father and mother.  She would raise him in the Law, and she would raise him in the Word.  Tears and smiles - she stopped.  It was just a whisper, a slight breeze lifting the corner of the veil she had just put into place.  Tears and smiles.  It was the breath of God, His voice - in the dawning light of morning - clear and sharp - cutting through the new day.

Yes.  Verily yes.  

Father, thank you for the humanity of your Son.  Thank you for his mother who raised him, and his father who accepted him as his own.  Thank you for the gift of Jesus.

Linked with Monday's Musings

Hear It on Sunday...