"In front of everyone, she explained why she had touched him and how she had been immediately healed. 'Daughter, your faith has healed you,' Jesus said. 'Go in peace.' " Luke 8:47b-48
The worship design team had planned a particular worship experience around the central theme of recognizing the presence of God in our daily living. We all agreed that asking some of our congregants to share their 'cardboard testimony' would be a great witness to such recognition of the transforming presence of God. There are no adequate words to describe the emotions behind the words in those conversations I had with about 40 folks, explaining what we wanted to do, why I was calling them, etc. In essence, I knew a little of their stories and was God's choice in helping them tell it more fully.
The Sunday morning came and at the close of the sermon, everyone took their place ... and it didn't look like the start of a livestock sale as about 40 folks got up and took their place just stage left of the worship platform. When the music began, so did their little parade. It was amazing! Each person walked to center-platform and held for their church family to read the few words or phrase that described his/her life before the presence of Christ. After a few seconds, they flipped the cardboard over to reveal the transformation in them because of Christ. One by one our friends bore witness to the transformation that Jesus brought to their lives; there are so many stories still etched in my minds with those scant words matched to faces that represent such journeys!! But, one in particular stops me in my tracks every time I hear this story of this encounter in scripture.
That Sunday morning, Jamie took center stage. She was a young mom facing her third recurrence of cancer. Struggling to figure out how to stay strong, to try hard yet again. She showed us the first side of her testimony: SCARED TO DEATH. No joke, who wouldn't be. Those who knew Jamie that morning began to cry because they were scared, too. As she turned her piece of cardboard over to reveal the impact of Christ's presence in her life, you could see it on her face and in her body before we read the words. As sick as she was, her backbone straightened a bit and that broad, beautiful smile of hers lit up the whole sanctuary. "TOUCHED THE HEM OF HIS ROBE." We all felt it, even those who didn't know her; we felt the victory that Jamie was claiming in Jesus Christ.
Jamie knew that healing was hers if she could just touch the hem of his robe. And, Jesus lets us do that. Man-handle him, that is. Touch, tug on, plead with, question and lean on ... he lets us do that just like he let that woman in the marketplace and the young woman dying because of cancer. But, Jamie learned that day when she felt the power of Jesus course through her that physical healing was but a smidgen of what Jesus is offering you and me ... and Jamie.
I know this: if I could just... is possible when I step out in faith. Jamie showed me how.
Lord Jesus, I feel you smiling on me, on us with the same kind of smile you gave Jamie. I am so very blessed that I got to see that marketplace walk right in front of me with her courage and determination to get to you no matter what. Give me what you gave Jamie, please? Not just for my own healing, but so that I can be that same example of courage and strength can mean. Amen.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Do You See ...?
"Jesus turned to the woman and said to Simon, 'Do you see this woman? ..." Luke 7:44a (CEB)
Most folks who know me know that this experience with Jesus is one of my favorites. A Pharisee has invited Jesus to his own home for dinner (with a hidden agenda not named in scripture, I'm certain). Surrounded by his friends and co-workers at this dinner party, he's not much of a host. Perhaps they're all accustomed to his cutting of corners in the hospitality department, but Jesus takes note of it. Not because the world would stop spinning just because Simon didn't provide a basin for Jesus to wash his feet or didn't greet him with a kiss. The hidden agenda was held, it seems, against most everybody Simon determined to be less than him.
A woman whose has been rescued by Jesus' love and grace makes her way into the party to love Jesus with her very best. She washes his feet with her tears, dries them with her hair, anoints him with what could very well be the key to her livelihood ... what she used to make herself attractive to her business partners, shall we say, she now lavished on Jesus only for the sake of love. It's Jesus' question that slays me ... do you see this woman? Really?!? She's probably the only one in the room, she's got the ugly girl-cry going on, and she's broken open an entire box of perfume. Yet, they didn't see her.
They didn't see her love for Jesus, they didn't see her bent toward hospitality when it wasn't even her turf, and they didn't see who she was becoming ... because they thought they already knew her and had judged her accordingly.
Hmmm.
Help me see your children, Lord, for who and whose they really are. We're all wrestling with something and somedays on the losing side of it. Those who stand on corners with cardboard signs, those who show up for the second time this week at a food pantry, those who are angry and defensive at every system that robs them of themselves and makes them a number or a category ... Thank you, Lord Jesus, for seeing me when others can't or won't.
I've heard it said that what others think of me is not my business. But, what I think of others is nobody's business BUT mine. Give me eyes that see like you see and a heart full of love for others, all others. A heart after your own. Deeper still, help me understand the full measure of love you hold for me, God, and be willing to share that with others no matter what, no strings attached. Let it be so.
Most folks who know me know that this experience with Jesus is one of my favorites. A Pharisee has invited Jesus to his own home for dinner (with a hidden agenda not named in scripture, I'm certain). Surrounded by his friends and co-workers at this dinner party, he's not much of a host. Perhaps they're all accustomed to his cutting of corners in the hospitality department, but Jesus takes note of it. Not because the world would stop spinning just because Simon didn't provide a basin for Jesus to wash his feet or didn't greet him with a kiss. The hidden agenda was held, it seems, against most everybody Simon determined to be less than him.
A woman whose has been rescued by Jesus' love and grace makes her way into the party to love Jesus with her very best. She washes his feet with her tears, dries them with her hair, anoints him with what could very well be the key to her livelihood ... what she used to make herself attractive to her business partners, shall we say, she now lavished on Jesus only for the sake of love. It's Jesus' question that slays me ... do you see this woman? Really?!? She's probably the only one in the room, she's got the ugly girl-cry going on, and she's broken open an entire box of perfume. Yet, they didn't see her.
They didn't see her love for Jesus, they didn't see her bent toward hospitality when it wasn't even her turf, and they didn't see who she was becoming ... because they thought they already knew her and had judged her accordingly.
Hmmm.
Help me see your children, Lord, for who and whose they really are. We're all wrestling with something and somedays on the losing side of it. Those who stand on corners with cardboard signs, those who show up for the second time this week at a food pantry, those who are angry and defensive at every system that robs them of themselves and makes them a number or a category ... Thank you, Lord Jesus, for seeing me when others can't or won't.
I've heard it said that what others think of me is not my business. But, what I think of others is nobody's business BUT mine. Give me eyes that see like you see and a heart full of love for others, all others. A heart after your own. Deeper still, help me understand the full measure of love you hold for me, God, and be willing to share that with others no matter what, no strings attached. Let it be so.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Under Authority, With Authority
"Just say the word and my servant will be healed. I'm also a man appointed under authority, with soldiers under me. I say to one, 'Go,' and he goes, and to another, 'Come,' and he comes. I say to my servant, 'Do this,' and the servant does it." When Jesus heard these words, he was impressed with the centurion. He turned to the crowd following him and said, 'I tell you, even in Israel I haven't found faith like this.' " Luke 7:7b-9 (CEB)
I think this experience, Jesus with the centurion, is crucial for anyone who calls himself or herself a disciple of Jesus Christ. For, in it the centurion boldly recognizes what many of us fail to recognize, or at best wrestle with, the length of our spiritual journey. Jesus is a man who lives in the balance of being under authority and wielding authority. The centurion is a man who lives in the balance of being under authority and wielding authority. We have evidence of Jesus living in that balance with grace and courage even when his expression of authority is challenging to the reader of the Word (even more so to the one who decides to follow). We don't have evidence of the centurion doing that, but the One who can and did discern the thoughts and attitudes of those who come to him is impressed. Just lip service by the centurion? I don't think so.
Leaves me wondering ... what does it look like for you and me, regular Joes and Janes, to live under authority? Two things, just to get started:
Once we can begin to figure out what living UNDER authority looks and feels like, we are expected to live OUT OF the authority that's been shared with us as those-who-follow-Jesus. Jesus gave his first disciples the authority to cast out demons, to heal, and to speak transforming Truth when they were sent out in Jesus' name. I'm thinking our marching orders are the same. Yes, we're to make disciples (not members!!), baptizing and teaching them. Are we teaching and modeling a tender-yet-bold way of living out our authority ... listening to people, loving people, but never fearing to speak the Truth, the bind and cast out all that is not of God, claiming healing and wholeness in the name of Jesus, and trusting His peace? Seems to me you can't speak the Truth if you don't know it, you can't give away that of God that you have not experienced, and you cannot claim for another person that of which you are not convinced is God's dream for each of us.
Guess we've gotta work on that ... if we're gonna get this authority balance down.
Lord Jesus, I cannot do what you do. Yet, you invite me, push me, trust me to try. Like Peter climbing out of the boat, I would rather figure it out and know how the healing, the truth-telling, the bold living, and the water-walking is gonna work BEFORE I step out there. I am coming to understand that living under your authority is a simply a life of surrender ... I give you my heart, my mind, my hands and feet and mouth so that through me you can love this world in all the ways it needs to be loved. I know that means I'll change in the process. For in surrendering I will know a new power from you, through you, that will propel me to love you more deeply, think like you, love like you as I stay connected to you. I'm getting it ... in surrendering to your authority, you enable to live with your authority. Help me keep that straight, my Savior, that your authority is a gift, not a perk and it all begins with surrender. I place myself under your authority, Jesus, even now. Amen.
I think this experience, Jesus with the centurion, is crucial for anyone who calls himself or herself a disciple of Jesus Christ. For, in it the centurion boldly recognizes what many of us fail to recognize, or at best wrestle with, the length of our spiritual journey. Jesus is a man who lives in the balance of being under authority and wielding authority. The centurion is a man who lives in the balance of being under authority and wielding authority. We have evidence of Jesus living in that balance with grace and courage even when his expression of authority is challenging to the reader of the Word (even more so to the one who decides to follow). We don't have evidence of the centurion doing that, but the One who can and did discern the thoughts and attitudes of those who come to him is impressed. Just lip service by the centurion? I don't think so.
Leaves me wondering ... what does it look like for you and me, regular Joes and Janes, to live under authority? Two things, just to get started:
- I'm not THE authority on anything no matter how long I've walked with Jesus, how deep my education, or THAT I've been ordained to work on His behalf. My experience, and so my knowledge, are limited at best. So, not everything or everybody is my business.
- I have been, according to scripture, been gifted with skills, talents, passions that are from God and, along with the fruits that the Spirit is growing in me, I am called and blessed to serve. But, I'm not ALL that ... there are great gaps in what I bring and what I do. It's my responsibility and privilege to receive what others bring to our common work and to celebrate how God works outside of me, too.
Once we can begin to figure out what living UNDER authority looks and feels like, we are expected to live OUT OF the authority that's been shared with us as those-who-follow-Jesus. Jesus gave his first disciples the authority to cast out demons, to heal, and to speak transforming Truth when they were sent out in Jesus' name. I'm thinking our marching orders are the same. Yes, we're to make disciples (not members!!), baptizing and teaching them. Are we teaching and modeling a tender-yet-bold way of living out our authority ... listening to people, loving people, but never fearing to speak the Truth, the bind and cast out all that is not of God, claiming healing and wholeness in the name of Jesus, and trusting His peace? Seems to me you can't speak the Truth if you don't know it, you can't give away that of God that you have not experienced, and you cannot claim for another person that of which you are not convinced is God's dream for each of us.
Guess we've gotta work on that ... if we're gonna get this authority balance down.
Lord Jesus, I cannot do what you do. Yet, you invite me, push me, trust me to try. Like Peter climbing out of the boat, I would rather figure it out and know how the healing, the truth-telling, the bold living, and the water-walking is gonna work BEFORE I step out there. I am coming to understand that living under your authority is a simply a life of surrender ... I give you my heart, my mind, my hands and feet and mouth so that through me you can love this world in all the ways it needs to be loved. I know that means I'll change in the process. For in surrendering I will know a new power from you, through you, that will propel me to love you more deeply, think like you, love like you as I stay connected to you. I'm getting it ... in surrendering to your authority, you enable to live with your authority. Help me keep that straight, my Savior, that your authority is a gift, not a perk and it all begins with surrender. I place myself under your authority, Jesus, even now. Amen.
Monday, February 17, 2014
He did WHAT?!
"Looking around at them all, [Jesus] said to the man, 'Stretch our your hand.' So he did and his hand was made healthy. They were furious and began talking with each other about what to do to Jesus." Luke 6:10-11 (CEB)
All of this business started because Jesus perceived a need and was determined to meet it ... on the Sabbath. Actually, there were many needs that Sabbath day; Jesus could perceive the withered hearts gathered in the same space as that withered hand. What he offered could have been healing salve for them, too, but they couldn't receive. Thought they were too good. That they were right.
Secretly, I feel the need to acknowledge what has always bothered me: at first read, the man with the withered hand is almost manhandled for the sake of healing. He didn't ask for it, the Pharisees in the crowd were using his need to bait Jesus, and Jesus called him out without any discussion (or seeming compassion either). That said, Jesus knows he has/is what the man needs. He is what all of us need desperately. And, I'm glad that Jesus doesn't wait for me to call on Him to offer what I need that only He can provide.
Back to the fella and his hand. The lesson that haunts me is hidden in verse 11. They watch this "friend" restored in front of their very eyes and that restoration wasn't just a physical restoration. The healing would, in fact, have restored him to his family, to his faith community, and possibly to work and some new level of civic life. Yet ... they would not celebrate with their friend or praise God as the Source of this healing. They couldn't because they simply couldn't get past the rules that, in their minds, were broken to get to the place of redemption and renewal.
Be honest. It's the rules, mostly unwritten or scribed only in our own minds, that trip us up, too. "She" doesn't deserve the accolades, the attention, the appreciation that she's receiving; "he" shouldn't have been picked or promoted; don't you know who he is and what he's done ... where he's been?! I don't mean the Pharisees thought this fella didn't deserve healing. But again, isn't that what they mean by asserting that the Sabbath and its rules are more important than this broken man. The lesson haunts me because what's hidden in that closing verse is the reflection of my own sin, the sin of believing I know better that God.
Lord Jesus, I am so very glad that you don't wait on me to ask for all that I need. I am forever grateful that you pour yourself out for me and into me that I can know healing and hope for brokenness that I can't even name yet. My brother that Luke talks about ... he reminds me that there is more pharisee in me than I am comfortable admitting. And, so I'm asking ... restore my withered attitudes and hopes and fit me with blinders. Blinders that will keep me keenly focused on your healing presence and no longer distracted by extraneous rules, expectations, and false wisdom that would lead me to believe that I know better. You wisdom is always higher and I yield myself to you. The truth is I want to learn to celebrate all healing, all redemption, and all restoration. Refresh my withered spirit and I can ... let it be. Let it be.
All of this business started because Jesus perceived a need and was determined to meet it ... on the Sabbath. Actually, there were many needs that Sabbath day; Jesus could perceive the withered hearts gathered in the same space as that withered hand. What he offered could have been healing salve for them, too, but they couldn't receive. Thought they were too good. That they were right.
Secretly, I feel the need to acknowledge what has always bothered me: at first read, the man with the withered hand is almost manhandled for the sake of healing. He didn't ask for it, the Pharisees in the crowd were using his need to bait Jesus, and Jesus called him out without any discussion (or seeming compassion either). That said, Jesus knows he has/is what the man needs. He is what all of us need desperately. And, I'm glad that Jesus doesn't wait for me to call on Him to offer what I need that only He can provide.
Back to the fella and his hand. The lesson that haunts me is hidden in verse 11. They watch this "friend" restored in front of their very eyes and that restoration wasn't just a physical restoration. The healing would, in fact, have restored him to his family, to his faith community, and possibly to work and some new level of civic life. Yet ... they would not celebrate with their friend or praise God as the Source of this healing. They couldn't because they simply couldn't get past the rules that, in their minds, were broken to get to the place of redemption and renewal.
Be honest. It's the rules, mostly unwritten or scribed only in our own minds, that trip us up, too. "She" doesn't deserve the accolades, the attention, the appreciation that she's receiving; "he" shouldn't have been picked or promoted; don't you know who he is and what he's done ... where he's been?! I don't mean the Pharisees thought this fella didn't deserve healing. But again, isn't that what they mean by asserting that the Sabbath and its rules are more important than this broken man. The lesson haunts me because what's hidden in that closing verse is the reflection of my own sin, the sin of believing I know better that God.
Lord Jesus, I am so very glad that you don't wait on me to ask for all that I need. I am forever grateful that you pour yourself out for me and into me that I can know healing and hope for brokenness that I can't even name yet. My brother that Luke talks about ... he reminds me that there is more pharisee in me than I am comfortable admitting. And, so I'm asking ... restore my withered attitudes and hopes and fit me with blinders. Blinders that will keep me keenly focused on your healing presence and no longer distracted by extraneous rules, expectations, and false wisdom that would lead me to believe that I know better. You wisdom is always higher and I yield myself to you. The truth is I want to learn to celebrate all healing, all redemption, and all restoration. Refresh my withered spirit and I can ... let it be. Let it be.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
In This Together
"When Jesus saw their faith, he said, 'Friend, your sins are forgiven." Luke 5:20
This story of healing has always been a rich experience for me. From the beginning I've been bowled over by the selfless friends that carried this man into the presence of Jesus, especially since it involved a little craftiness and some drama. The feat of getting him to the roof ... digging through the ceiling (someone else's ceiling!). Now that's love for your friend. And, either desperation that grows from that love, or faith in Jesus. It couldn't hurt to try after all they'd heard; but trying was no small feat. Perhaps the combination of love and hope is what carried all the power.
But, I've been thinking about this. And, the verse above still baffles me. THEIR faith is what got Jesus' attention. At first read, that flies in the face of what I was taught growing up. I couldn't ride the faith-coattails of Mama or Daddy. It was up to me to work out my own salvation, get face-to-face with Jesus myself. So, what gives here?
Well, first, I believe that the fella on the pallet is a part of the 'they' and 'their.' He may not have been able to help himself get to the house or get to the roof, much less through it. But, he was an active participant. Imagine yourself lying on that pallet unable to help your friends as they determine they're gonna get you before this man, Jesus. Imagine the exertion of strength and energy along the journey however short or long; imagine the disappointment to find 'the place' only to see the crowd spilling out of the house leaving no room for them; imagine the determination of your friends as they work on plan B. Imagine receiving all that love. All of that ... not knowing what might or might not happen even if you get to meet this Jesus. So, second, I believe that the fella on the pallet is just as self-sacrificing as the others. His pride had to go; his ego had to go; he had to recognize that he had as much control of this effort as he had over his legs ... and, they didn't work. He participated by remaining open to the love of his friends, healing in its own rite, and the possibility of complete healing from Jesus. That, I'm convinced, is the hardest work of all. We ARE in this together and it is a right, even a righteous thing to experience someone else's love for you.
Lord, you know already how hard it is for me to be still and let your love for me seep deep inside me. Even tougher, it is, to be still and let someone else love me. I'd rather get busy showing them my gratitude, proving my love for them right back. But, I confess, that pulls me out of the moment and I miss feeling, seeing, knowing bits of that love because I'm already busy working on something else. Help me be still ... and know not only that you are God, but that you are loving me more than I could ever imagine. Especially through wonderful people. I'm glad I'm in it with the folks you've raised up in my life. I do want to love them faithfully and fully. But, today, I'm asking for a nudge or two that will help me receive fully their love for me. For, I count it as a gift from you! Let it be so, Lord. Let it be so.
This story of healing has always been a rich experience for me. From the beginning I've been bowled over by the selfless friends that carried this man into the presence of Jesus, especially since it involved a little craftiness and some drama. The feat of getting him to the roof ... digging through the ceiling (someone else's ceiling!). Now that's love for your friend. And, either desperation that grows from that love, or faith in Jesus. It couldn't hurt to try after all they'd heard; but trying was no small feat. Perhaps the combination of love and hope is what carried all the power.
But, I've been thinking about this. And, the verse above still baffles me. THEIR faith is what got Jesus' attention. At first read, that flies in the face of what I was taught growing up. I couldn't ride the faith-coattails of Mama or Daddy. It was up to me to work out my own salvation, get face-to-face with Jesus myself. So, what gives here?
Well, first, I believe that the fella on the pallet is a part of the 'they' and 'their.' He may not have been able to help himself get to the house or get to the roof, much less through it. But, he was an active participant. Imagine yourself lying on that pallet unable to help your friends as they determine they're gonna get you before this man, Jesus. Imagine the exertion of strength and energy along the journey however short or long; imagine the disappointment to find 'the place' only to see the crowd spilling out of the house leaving no room for them; imagine the determination of your friends as they work on plan B. Imagine receiving all that love. All of that ... not knowing what might or might not happen even if you get to meet this Jesus. So, second, I believe that the fella on the pallet is just as self-sacrificing as the others. His pride had to go; his ego had to go; he had to recognize that he had as much control of this effort as he had over his legs ... and, they didn't work. He participated by remaining open to the love of his friends, healing in its own rite, and the possibility of complete healing from Jesus. That, I'm convinced, is the hardest work of all. We ARE in this together and it is a right, even a righteous thing to experience someone else's love for you.
Lord, you know already how hard it is for me to be still and let your love for me seep deep inside me. Even tougher, it is, to be still and let someone else love me. I'd rather get busy showing them my gratitude, proving my love for them right back. But, I confess, that pulls me out of the moment and I miss feeling, seeing, knowing bits of that love because I'm already busy working on something else. Help me be still ... and know not only that you are God, but that you are loving me more than I could ever imagine. Especially through wonderful people. I'm glad I'm in it with the folks you've raised up in my life. I do want to love them faithfully and fully. But, today, I'm asking for a nudge or two that will help me receive fully their love for me. For, I count it as a gift from you! Let it be so, Lord. Let it be so.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Just What DO You Want For Me?
"When he saw Jesus, he fell on his face and begged, 'Lord, if you want, you can make me clean.' " Luke 5:12b (CEB)
What dangerous faith! The kind of faith that, I believe, God desires for each of us. I try to imagine myself in my brother's position ... small town life absolutely disrupted for this fellow of faith. Disrupted by disease that defined him as unclean. Once defined as unclean, he was isolated from most life-giving parts of his life (family, friends, work, faith family, ...) for fear that he would contaminate, corrupt, or endanger life for others through those circles.
So, it's not a stretch for any of us to imagine hitting our face and begging. Restore me!! Restore my life!! But, our brother went even farther in stating his belief about Jesus. That's why I describe his faith as dangerous. He didn't hedge his bets at all. Instead, he put himself in Jesus' face even as his was on the ground. Capability is not the Divine issue. Willingness, desire, availability ... those are the issues.
IF YOU WANT, Lord ... well, what if he doesn't want?! What does that brother do with that reality, that Jesus didn't want to make him clean. For that matter, isn't that the reason why you and I are willing to hedge our bets with Jesus, if we even come limping before him at all? I'll own it. It would be crushing to recognize that with God nothing is impossible, but God just chooses to withold that blessing from me. (There's another side to the risk, too: what if Jesus chooses to fix what's wrong with me, what's wrong in me, but it costs me something? Maybe even alot!)
Yep. This brother lived from a place of courage that I would dare say most of us only get to because of desperation. Joyce Rupp deals with the reality of courage in her book, Fresh Bread, in the February chapter and I highly recommend the comforting challenge she offers. She reminds us that courage doesn't come from knuckling down, holding our breath, or just getting through the difficulty, the challenge, the affront. No, courage comes in leaving space for God to be, move, speak, work in ways that only God can - and will - work. The danger is in trusting that God will work to our benefit. And, that's faith.
Lord Jesus, indeed, with you nothing is impossible. That's what I count on when I'm staring "impossibility" in the face. But, I confess that complete dependence on you is frightening. I hear myself wondering ... what if Jesus doesn't notice or care enough to work in me, for me, on me, through me? What if He's willing to help, but the change and healing I'm desperate for are gonna cost me more than I'm willing to pay? I've got nothing else but my own power. Maybe that's the enemy wanting me to doubt your love for me, your promises to me. At any rate, I'm asking for courageous, dangerous faith like this brother. The kind of faith that will drive me to my face in your presence, confident of your ability and willingness to love me well. Make me faithful to know your promises, your nature, your character, and your presence. Let it be, Lord; let it be.
What dangerous faith! The kind of faith that, I believe, God desires for each of us. I try to imagine myself in my brother's position ... small town life absolutely disrupted for this fellow of faith. Disrupted by disease that defined him as unclean. Once defined as unclean, he was isolated from most life-giving parts of his life (family, friends, work, faith family, ...) for fear that he would contaminate, corrupt, or endanger life for others through those circles.
So, it's not a stretch for any of us to imagine hitting our face and begging. Restore me!! Restore my life!! But, our brother went even farther in stating his belief about Jesus. That's why I describe his faith as dangerous. He didn't hedge his bets at all. Instead, he put himself in Jesus' face even as his was on the ground. Capability is not the Divine issue. Willingness, desire, availability ... those are the issues.
IF YOU WANT, Lord ... well, what if he doesn't want?! What does that brother do with that reality, that Jesus didn't want to make him clean. For that matter, isn't that the reason why you and I are willing to hedge our bets with Jesus, if we even come limping before him at all? I'll own it. It would be crushing to recognize that with God nothing is impossible, but God just chooses to withold that blessing from me. (There's another side to the risk, too: what if Jesus chooses to fix what's wrong with me, what's wrong in me, but it costs me something? Maybe even alot!)
Yep. This brother lived from a place of courage that I would dare say most of us only get to because of desperation. Joyce Rupp deals with the reality of courage in her book, Fresh Bread, in the February chapter and I highly recommend the comforting challenge she offers. She reminds us that courage doesn't come from knuckling down, holding our breath, or just getting through the difficulty, the challenge, the affront. No, courage comes in leaving space for God to be, move, speak, work in ways that only God can - and will - work. The danger is in trusting that God will work to our benefit. And, that's faith.
Lord Jesus, indeed, with you nothing is impossible. That's what I count on when I'm staring "impossibility" in the face. But, I confess that complete dependence on you is frightening. I hear myself wondering ... what if Jesus doesn't notice or care enough to work in me, for me, on me, through me? What if He's willing to help, but the change and healing I'm desperate for are gonna cost me more than I'm willing to pay? I've got nothing else but my own power. Maybe that's the enemy wanting me to doubt your love for me, your promises to me. At any rate, I'm asking for courageous, dangerous faith like this brother. The kind of faith that will drive me to my face in your presence, confident of your ability and willingness to love me well. Make me faithful to know your promises, your nature, your character, and your presence. Let it be, Lord; let it be.
Monday, February 3, 2014
I Spy With My Little Eye ...
"Every eye in the synagogue was fixed on him." Luke 4:20b (CEB)
When I read this closing sentence in v20 in the Common English Bible, I could see myself in the floor-length white seersucker dress with delicate yellow tulips on it that my mom made for me. That's what I wore to what would be my last piano recital at 15. That dress conjured up everything about summer that fashion could and I felt beautiful in it. Problem is, that didn't necessarily translate to my fingers. Looking a little better while sitting on the piano bench doesn't mean you can play the piece any better. I wrestled with that dilemma at every recital. Take my music away from me and, all of a sudden, I didn't feel the music nearly so much as I felt every eye in the place on me. Would I be able to pull it off? Would I crumble under the pressure? Regardless of how I performed, would they like me? That pressure wasn't the only reason I was done with piano lessons after all those years. But, I confess it was good to be rid of that pressure.
I fancy no notion that, in the synagogue that day, Jesus felt like I did while sitting on the recital piano bench. But, I'm pretty certain he FELT every eye in the place on him. When we're in the spotlight, it's natural - I think - to wonder about our performance. Will we be received? Will we be appreciated? Will we choke or excell? I get the sense that Jesus wasn't preoccupied with delivery or performance because he was focused on the importance of the truth he would declare.
Still, the verse reads that every eye was on him. So, what did they expect to witness ... to hear? to see? Were they ready to receive what he offered? Or, would that depend on whether his words were comforting, his presence soothing?
I'll tell you what this verse really leads me to ... because I've been in that moment when I felt every eye on me (whether they were or not), now I'm conscious about what catches my eye. Do I really see or pay attention to the power of the moment? Or do I rush right past the beauty, the brokenness, the opportunity, the hope simply because I am busy with my own stuff?
More specifically, is my eye on Jesus? You can read the rest of the chapter ... they didn't like what they heard and because they were offended by the truth, they decided to be offended by the messenger. Perhaps the Church would be more offended if our eyes were actually on Jesus, searching Him out in every moment, in every place, in every person.
What catches your eye? On who or what do you fix your gaze these days?
When I read this closing sentence in v20 in the Common English Bible, I could see myself in the floor-length white seersucker dress with delicate yellow tulips on it that my mom made for me. That's what I wore to what would be my last piano recital at 15. That dress conjured up everything about summer that fashion could and I felt beautiful in it. Problem is, that didn't necessarily translate to my fingers. Looking a little better while sitting on the piano bench doesn't mean you can play the piece any better. I wrestled with that dilemma at every recital. Take my music away from me and, all of a sudden, I didn't feel the music nearly so much as I felt every eye in the place on me. Would I be able to pull it off? Would I crumble under the pressure? Regardless of how I performed, would they like me? That pressure wasn't the only reason I was done with piano lessons after all those years. But, I confess it was good to be rid of that pressure.
I fancy no notion that, in the synagogue that day, Jesus felt like I did while sitting on the recital piano bench. But, I'm pretty certain he FELT every eye in the place on him. When we're in the spotlight, it's natural - I think - to wonder about our performance. Will we be received? Will we be appreciated? Will we choke or excell? I get the sense that Jesus wasn't preoccupied with delivery or performance because he was focused on the importance of the truth he would declare.
Still, the verse reads that every eye was on him. So, what did they expect to witness ... to hear? to see? Were they ready to receive what he offered? Or, would that depend on whether his words were comforting, his presence soothing?
I'll tell you what this verse really leads me to ... because I've been in that moment when I felt every eye on me (whether they were or not), now I'm conscious about what catches my eye. Do I really see or pay attention to the power of the moment? Or do I rush right past the beauty, the brokenness, the opportunity, the hope simply because I am busy with my own stuff?
More specifically, is my eye on Jesus? You can read the rest of the chapter ... they didn't like what they heard and because they were offended by the truth, they decided to be offended by the messenger. Perhaps the Church would be more offended if our eyes were actually on Jesus, searching Him out in every moment, in every place, in every person.
What catches your eye? On who or what do you fix your gaze these days?
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