Never Alone

"For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others,
 for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness, 
 and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you
 are never alone."    - - Audrey Hepburn

You know, it's funny - I guess it ISN'T funny - what people will say to others without thinking it through. 

I was having a conversation with a dear friend earlier today. This lady has been my friend for about 15 years, and she is the kindest, sweetest soul who came into my life when I needed such a soul in my life. 

And right now she's hurting - mourning the loss of a family member. A family member who just so happens to be a beloved pet, one she has had for over 17 years. And she was telling me what some folks have been saying to her. 

They don't bear repeating. Suffice to say that the comments have been dismissive and unthinking, diminishing the importance of her pain because the loved one she lost had four legs instead of two. 

I wanted her to know that she was not alone. That there are people - fortunate, sensitive, and beautiful people (like us) who see the good in others (no matter what the species), who speak words of kindness (yes, even to such unthinking humans) and who have walked the path that she is walking now ... who know the pain of losing a beloved family member, be that two-legged or four-legged. For ... as I told her earlier, grief is grief, and it means that we have loved someone or some creature enough to feel something when he, she or it leaves. (Queen Elizabeth II once said, "Grief is the price we pay for love.") 

There is much to be said - when someone has experienced a recent loss (especially of a pet) and a person just can't understand "why there is so much fuss about it" - for silence, for being comfortable with NOT understanding, for NOT giving "pat answers" that might snuff out what little bit of hope the person might have. 

Photo "Lonely Woman On The Beach" by
Sira Anamwong at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Loneliness kills. The pain of loneliness is something that outlasts physical pain. A person can feel isolated and abandoned in a crowd, and he or she can feel the loneliest when nobody appears to understand his or her experience.

Let's sit with those who've experienced a loss, and let them feel the pain, talk about their loved one. 

Let's just LISTEN. That's all. 

That's the most comforting thing a person can do is just to BE there and let that friend know that whatever he or she feels is normal. It's normal!! It's healthy to be sad when you've lost someone. The important thing for a grieving person is to know that that person is never alone, that there is someone to talk to, that there is someone who cares. That "being there" can give someone a tremendous gift: dignity ... self-respect ... the feeling that what they feel and think matters.

There is no need to ask questions in those moments of fresh grief about "what happens now." The time will come when those questions can be asked, but not now. Not yet. 

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Feelings are not bad or good. Feelings ARE. And people have a right to feel them. Being told that we shouldn't feel bad (or good) is a form of abuse that reaches down into the core of who we are. We were hard-wired for feelings, for relationships, for love. And when we remember that we are not alone in this experience, it makes getting through it so much easier.

Life is not a competition. It's a journey. It's better to go through it together in cooperation than trying to prove who's right and who's not.

It is better to look for the good in others, to speak only words of kindness, and to let each other know that we are never alone.

The Acid Test

The term, "the acid test" has been around since the days of the early gold prospectors. They needed a way to determine if the metal they found was real gold or some other metal. So, they would mark the metal with nitric acid, which would melt other metals; gold, not so much. That term came to mean the way by which someone would know if something was genuine or not - from merchandise to someone's promises or beliefs. 

I got to thinking about this expression this morning as the face of this one person came into my mind, someone to whom some people react one way while others react the opposite way.

I first met Joseph in the late 1990s. He's an itinerant - a man who chooses to be homeless. He has a "home base" - the home of a relative in a different province - but he only goes there once in a while to catch up on his mail. Most of the time, no matter what the season, he walks and sometimes hitch-hikes from place to place.  He has a full beard, wears layer upon layer of clothing (because there's no other place to put it) and smells of spruce, wood smoke, and sweat. He makes no apologies for his appearance or his lifestyle. He sleeps in the woods, sometimes in a sleeping bag and sometimes not. 

It's intriguing to see the reactions of different people to this man. The first time I saw him, I was a receptionist at a church office. He walked into the office one day in 1998. My immediate impression was that he was a homeless man in his mid-fifties, in need of a bath, a good meal and a change of clothes.  There was something about him, though - something in his eyes, which contradicted what my sense of smell was telling me. My boss at the time, a wonderful pastor, caught sight of him and came out to greet him warmly. I decided to watch him, talk to him, and get to know him a bit better. 

Taken at Picadilly Circus, London.
Thanks to photographer Mantas Ruzveltas
for this photo, "Homeless Man" - obtained at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Over the course of the next week, as he used the woods behind the church to sleep in (with the pastor's permission of course!) I learned that he loved his life, that he enjoyed country and western music (well, nobody's perfect), that he was a diabetic, and that he had the most gentle, humble character you would ever want to meet. I instinctively knew that if I ever needed anyone to look after my preschool children, I could trust him implicitly to guard them with his life. 

I began to look forward to his visits; he was always so full of joy, so content with his chosen lifestyle, so grateful for every bit of help offered to him, and so accepting of others. About once or twice a year he would show up, stay a few days and then move on. Whenever he did, he'd stop for a church service on a Sunday morning. He'd usually sit at the back, close to the door, so that he could slip to and from the washroom unnoticed. It was there that I noticed the varied reactions to his presence. They were much like my original impression had been - except that they were a bit more (how shall I put this nicely? oh never mind) "in your face."  Some reactions were downright visceral; they were clearly repulsed by this man and got as far away from him as possible. 

Many of these people are the first to attend prayer vigils and go to spiritual retreats, talk about the glory days, and tell others exactly what they believe. 

But Joseph is the acid test  -  his very existence challenges people and he isn't even aware of it; he just is who he is. Yet the challenge hangs in the air, "Do you really believe what you say you believe?"

A few months ago, as winter melted into spring, I found myself wondering where Joseph was, if he was still out there tramping the roads and touching lives with his uniqueness. 

And then one Sunday morning recently, I saw him - sitting by himself in the back near the door. His hair and beard were more gray; his face was more gaunt, but it was him. He was beaming, basking in the simple but profound pleasure of good music and shelter from the rain. When the service was over, I rushed over to where he'd been sitting, but he was gone. Disappointment settled on me like a wet blanket. I made my way back to my seat and began to pick up my purse and other items.

Then I turned and saw him, not ten feet away! He'd been in the washroom (most likely) and was coming up to the front to talk to the pastor and ask for a drive. My eyes misted over; what a beautiful soul. I shook hands with him and was delighted that he remembered me - his grip was a little weaker, but still firm. He was wobbling a bit with age and the ravages of life on the road - but it was the Joseph I remembered. His eyes were still as bright, and his smile as ready as it always was. 

Given the rainy day, the pastor asked a young man (a student interning at the church) to drive Joseph to where he needed to go next - across town - and I wondered if yet another generation would come to appreciate the inner beauty of this simple man ... and pass the acid test. 

I sure hope so.

Getting Zapped

It happens, okay?  It does. 

Every once in a while (sometimes more often than others, and nobody can predict) God "zaps" someone.  He takes an intolerable and hopeless situation, and all of a sudden turns it around: heals someone instantly of crippling osteoarthritis,  miraculously gets someone their dream job out of the clear blue sky, drops a place to live into someone's lap.  

It does happen. 

But it doesn't happen often.  More often, He works the slow kind of miracles.  No less the miracle than the instant ones - but in slow motion.  Years of setting things up, months of preparation, weeks of rehabilitation and hard work, surgery followed by a painful recovery period. Working through people and/or process. Yet the miracle happens, sometimes without us even being aware of it.  And then we look around one day, and discover that the landscape has changed inexorably.  

Who knew?

We like the instant miracles. We eat them up! They get the most press, get the highest ratings on the Christian talk shows.  But the slow ones - the ones that work at a snail's pace in the background unnoticed - these are perhaps the greater miracles because they require even more faith... faith that even though it's slow, it will happen in God's time. Faith that the next right thing will lead to the following right thing, and so on and so forth until the goal that seems so far off today, is within reach.  

It's the faith that believes in the slow miracle that I think is the most heroic, the most spectacular - because it must endure the scoffing and the ridicule (or at the very least, the pitying indulgence) of the ones who got their miracle "just like that" (said while snapping their fingers.)  

I'm a firm believer in the saying, "God always gives His best to those who leave the choice with Him." (Written by Jim Eliot, missionary, 1927 - 1956)

This includes making peace with the fact that God has the right to say no.  For whatever reason, that possibility exists.  We ASK.  We don't demand.  We ask believing - and accept what God decides: fast, slow, or not at all.  If the latter, we accept that He has His reasons - and move on.  

In the meantime - we're allowed to keep asking.

Level, Square and True

My husband is building a small shed to house the lawn tractor and a few other, smaller tools.  He's designed it himself, taken his time and carefully laid out the foundation, and invested a lot of energy especially in those first stages of making sure that everything was level and square.  He tested and retested those concrete blocks and the beams he placed on them with his level (okay, can't resist a joke: you know a guy's on the level if his bubble's in the middle), and made minor adjustments in the depth the concrete went into the earth, before ever he screwed in the first screw to the wood. 

It might seem like a lot of trouble to go to, but that extra time and effort is going to be well worth it.  The building will be more sturdy, more reliable, and more long-lasting.  It will withstand everything that the north wind and the snow and ice will throw at it in the winter, and it will protect its contents from the rain during the rest of the year. 

Here's the link where I got this photo

Starting from a level foundation and making sure that all the parts are square - that is, perpendicular to each other and fitting the way they're supposed to fit - will only enhance the function of the shed and turn it into an asset rather than a liability.  

The process is a visual reminder of how to build a life.  Make sure the foundation is level, spend extra time, as much as you need to.  Use tools to measure and be certain that the foundation is square because you'll be building on it - if the foundation is wrong, the whole thing will be crooked.  Think about how it's going to be, plan your escape route (the door) and a way to see out (the window). Frame it out and make sure THAT is square and true. 

"True" is hard to explain - carpenters understand the term. It means that the integrity of the structure is right, that the corners are not just square (that is, coming to a 90 degree angle) but that the framing is in a straight line all the way along, and that both the framing and fitted corners, put together, will support the roof and the walls as a result. 

Plainly put, the building process is a metaphor of life and the foundation in particular, is one of relationship with God - it's the foundation for living life as it really is.  Life needs to be grounded on something that is going to stand the test of time... and relationship with God is that something.  The floor and the framing are relationship with the self.  Nothing external can hang on those for very long unless the framing is True.  Self-care, setting boundaries, letting go of the need to control or look after others to the exclusion of the self - these are good structure for what will eventually be what everyone else sees: relationships with others (the walls).  Top that off with healthy boundaries between self and others (the roof).  That keeps the floor and the framing from getting soggy and rotten (grin) and keeps the tools from rusting.

The analogy is rather loose; I only just thought of this one tonight as I heard my hubby talk about his project.   But I believe that it has merit.  

Happy building. 

Cookies with Smarties

Overheard at McDonald's checkout this morning - part of a conversation between a mom and her 4-year-old daughter:

Would you like pancakes?
No.
Would you like a muffin?
No.
Would you like eggs and sausage and toast?
No.
Well what do you want?
I dunno.
(shrugs in resignation...)  Just look at the pictures and tell me what you want.
That one!  (pointing to the breakfast burrito with red and green peppers)
That one????
Yeah!  Cookies with Smarties!
Uhhhh....honey.... that's not a cookie and those aren't Smarties... it's a really thin wrap with egg, and green and red peppers inside.
AwWWh!! I HATE green peppers!!
So what do you want?
(big sigh)  Pancakes I guess.

Found through Google Images at :
http://recipelist.blogspot.com/2008/06/mcdonalds-breakfast-burritos.html

Appearances can certainly be deceiving, and when something turns out to not be what you expected, well!!

Life is full of expectations and disappointments like that.  It's especially disheartening when the real thing doesn't even come close to living up to the brochure.  

Marketing focuses on the hype; many times folks end up at the returns desk asking for a refund or an exchange.  It's that way in the business world and it is that way in other areas as well, including relationships, volunteer groups, church, and work or career.  The disappointment can be devastating.  What's worse, something dies inside when we feel we must resign ourselves to the status quo.

The thing is, that is always the risk when it comes to anything involving human beings because we all make mistakes.  ALL the time.  (Wow that sounds like such a cop-out.)  The trick is - for the people "advertising" - to be realistic about the pros and cons of a particular action or lifestyle. And for the people who are the targets of such advertising, it's important to ask intelligent questions instead of assuming people have the right motives. 

Far too many times I've seen people rhapsodize about a particular thing (let's say church or Christianity - which is not the same thing, but I digress) while minimizing the in-fighting and the being-taken-for-granted stuff that goes on with annoying regularity, not to mention that whole judgment thing if you don't agree 100% with each other.  Of course it is never going to be perfect; if looking for perfection then humanity is not the best place to focus!! 

What I've found gives me balance is not focusing so much on what others are doing and instead checking my attitude.  I always lived my life having people do things "to" me.  My focus was always on (see another post I did a few months ago) whether they were throwing their ball in such a way as to hit my bat (and getting angry when they didn't).  So what I had to do was work on my batting skills - and get rid of some old preconceived notions of where the bases were.  Coming from a dysfunctional /abusive home, the boundaries are really fuzzy, there are a lot of in-team rivalries, and it takes a while to learn how to (as one friend put it) "behave indoors" as an adult.

Since going through that healing process, I'm learning that it's okay to ask questions about the nature of what has always been touted as the accepted / traditional thing to do or think.  "Why?" is a good question in that context.  Living life from the inside out - being honest, open, and willing - forces me to live outside my comfort zone in many respects.  Certain things have always been true and remain true ... but the next time I hear something or see something that sounds or looks like "Cookies with Smarties", I had better beware.  I'm not denying that miracles happen or that sometimes life does serve sundaes instead of sauerkraut (apologies to those who like sauerkraut)... it's just that a lot of the time, it doesn't.

If it sounds too good to be true ... it probably is.

A Little Booklet

I first read this little story when I was 16 and at a little Bible camp outside Bouctouche NB.

I have gone back to its simple story again and again.  Today, I would like to share it with you.

My Heart Christ's Home ~ ~ by Robert Boyd Munger

One evening I invited Jesus Christ into my heart. What an entrance He made! It was not a spectacular, emotional thing, but very real. Something happened at the very center of my life. He came into the darkness of my heart and turned on the light.

He built a fire on the hearth and banished the chill. He started music where there had been stillness, and He filled the emptiness with His own loving, wonderful fellowship. I have never regretted opening the door to Christ and I never will.

In the joy of this new relationship I said to Jesus Christ, "Lord, I want this heart of mine to be Yours. I want to have You settle down here and be perfectly at home. Everything I have belongs to You. Let me show You around."

The Study
The first room was the study--the library. In my home this room of the mind is a very small room with very thick walls. But it is a very important room. In a sense, it is the control room of the house.

He entered with me and looked around at the books in the bookcase, the magazines upon the table, the pictures on the walls. As I followed His gaze I became uncomfortable. Strangely, I had not felt self-conscious about this before, but now that He was there looking at these things I was embarrassed.

Some books were there that His eyes were too pure to behold. On the table were a few magazines that a Christian had no business reading. As for the pictures on the walls--the imaginations and thoughts of the mind--some of these were shameful.

Red-faced, I turned to Him and said, "Master, I know that this room needs to be cleaned up and made over.  Will You help me make it what it ought to be?" 

"Certainly!" He said. "I'm glad to help you. First of all, take all the things that you are reading and looking at which are not helpful, pure, good and true, and throw them out!" Now put on the empty shelves the Books of the Bible. Fill the library with Scripture and meditate on it day and night. As for the pictures on the walls, you will have difficulty controlling these images, but I have something that will help."

He gave me a full-size portrait of Himself. "Hang this centrally," He said, "on the wall of the mind." I did, and I have discovered through the years that when my thoughts are centered upon Christ Himself, His purity and power cause impure thoughts to back away.

So He has helped me to bring my thoughts under His control.

The Dining Room

From the study we went into the dining room, the room of appetites and desires. I spent a lot of time and hard work here trying to satisfy my wants.

I said to Him, "This is a favorite room. I am quite sure You will be pleased with what we serve."

He seated Himself at the table with me and asked, "What is on the menu for dinner?"
 
"Well," I said, "my favorite dishes: money, academic degrees and stocks, with newspaper articles of fame and fortune as side dishes."  These were the things I liked--secular fare.

When the food was placed before Him, He said nothing, but I observed that He did not eat it.  I said to Him, "Master, don't You care for this food? What is the trouble?"

He answered, "I have food to eat that you do not know of.  If you want food that really satisfies you, do the will of the Father. Stop seeking your own pleasures, desires, and satisfaction.  Seek to please Him. That food will satisfy you."

There at the table He gave me a taste of the joy of doing God's will.   What flavor! There is no food like it in all the world.

The Living Room

From the dining room we walked into the living room. This room was intimate and comfortable. I liked it. It had a fireplace, overstuffed chairs, a sofa, and a quiet atmosphere.

He said, "This is indeed a delightful room.  Let us come here often. It is secluded and quiet, and we can fellowship together."

Well, as a young Christian I was thrilled. I couldn't think of anything I would rather do than have a few minutes with Christ in close companionship. He promised, "I will be here early every morning.  Meet me here, and we will start the day together."

So morning after morning, I would come downstairs to the living room.He would take a book of the Bible from the case. We would open it and read together. He would unfold to me the wonder of God's saving truths. My heart sang as He shared the love and the grace He had toward me. These were wonderful times.

However, little by little, under the pressure of many responsibilities, this time began to be shortened.  Why, I'm not sure. I thought I was too busy to spend regular time with Christ. This was not intentional, you understand. It just happened that way.

Finally, not only was the time shortened, but I began to miss days now and then.  Urgent matters would crowd out the quiet times of conversation with Jesus.

I remember one morning rushing downstairs, eager to be on my way.  I passed the living room and noticed that the door was open. Looking in, I saw a fire in the fireplace and Jesus was sitting there.  Suddenly in dismay I thought to myself, "He is my guest.   I invited Him into my heart! He has come as my Savior and Friend."  I stopped, turned and hesitantly went in. With downcast glance, I said, "Master, forgive me. Have You been here all these mornings?"

"Yes," He said, "I told you I would be here every morning to meet with you. Remember, I love you. I have redeemed you at great cost.I value your fellowship. Even if you cannot keep the quiet time for your own sake, do it for mine."

The truth that Christ desires my companionship, that He wants me to be with Him and waits for me, has done more to transform my quiet time with God than any other single fact.  Don't let Christ wait alone in the living room of your heart, but every day find time when, with your Bible and in prayer, you may be together with Him.

The Workroom

Before long, He asked, "Do you have a workroom in your home?" Out in the garage of the home of my heart I had a workbench and some equipment, but I was not doing much with it. Once in a while I would play around with a few little gadgets, but I wasn't producing anything substantial.

I led Him out there. He looked over the workbench and said, "Well, this is quite well furnished.  What are you producing with your life for the Kingdom of God?" He looked at one or two little toys that I had thrown together on the bench and held one up to me.  "Is this the sort of thing you are doing for others in your Christian life?"

"Well," I said, "Lord, I know it isn't much, and I really want to do more, but after all, I don't seem to have strength or skill to do more."

"Would you like to do better?" He asked. "Certainly," I replied.

"All right. Let me have your hands. Now relax in me and let my Spirit work through you. I know that you are unskilled, clumsy and awkward, but the Holy Spirit is the Master Workman, and if He controls your hands and your heart, He will work through you." Stepping around behind me and putting His great, strong hands under mine, He held the tools in His skilled fingers and began to work through me. The more I relaxed and trusted Him, the more He was able to do with my life.

The Rec Room

He asked me if I had a rec room where I went for fun and fellowship. I was hoping He would not ask about that. There were certain associations and activities that I wanted to keep for myself.

One evening when I was on my way out with some of my buddies,  He stopped me with a glance and asked, "Are you going out?"  I replied, "Yes." 

"Good," He said, "I would like to go with you."

"Oh," I answered rather awkwardly. "I don't think, Lord Jesus, that You would really enjoy where we are going. Let's go out together tomorrow night. Tomorrow night we will go to a Bible class at church,but tonight I have another appointment."

"I'm sorry," He said. "I thought that when I came into your home, we were going to do everything together, to be close companions. I just want you to know that I am willing to go with you."

"Well," I mumbled, slipping out the door, "We will go someplace together tomorrow night."

That evening I spent some miserable hours.... I felt rotten. What kind of friend was I to Jesus, deliberately leaving Him out of my life, doing things and going places that I knew very well He would not enjoy?

When I returned that evening, there was a light in His room, and I went up to talk it over with Him. I said, "Lord, I have learned my lesson. I know now that I can't have a good time without You. From now on, we will do everything together."

Then we went down into the rec room of the house. He transformed it. He brought new friends, new excitement, new joys. Laughter and music have been ringing through the house ever since.

The Hall Closet
One day I found Him waiting for me at the door. An arresting look was in His eye. As I entered, He said to me, "There is a peculiar odor in the house. Something must be dead around here. It's upstairs. I think it is in the hall closet."

As soon as He said this, I knew what He was talking about. There was a small closet up there on the hall landing, just a few feet square. In that closet, behind lock and key, I had one or two little personal things that I did not want anyone to know about. Certainly, I did not want Christ to see them.

I knew they were dead and rotting things left over from the old life. I wanted them so for myself that I was afraid to admit they were there. Reluctantly, I went up with Him, and as we mounted the stairs the odor became stronger and stronger. He pointed to the door.

I was angry. That's the only way I can put it. I had given Him access to the library, the dining room, the living room, the workroom, the rec room, and now He was asking me about a little two-by-four closet.I said to myself, "This is too much. I am not going to give Him the key."

"Well," He said, reading my thoughts, "If you think I'm going to stay up here on the second floor with this smell, you are mistaken. I will go out on the porch."  Then I saw Him start down the stairs.

When one comes to know and love Christ, the worst thing that can happen is to sense Him withdrawing His fellowship. I had to give in.  "I'll give You the key," I said sadly, "But You will have to open the closet and clean it out. I haven't the strength to do it." 

"Just give me the key," He said. "Authorize me to take care of that closet and I will."

With trembling fingers I passed the key to Him.  He took it, walked over to the door, opened it, entered, took out all the putrefying stuff that was rotting there, and threw it away. Then He cleaned the closet and painted it. It was done in a moment's time. Oh, what victory and release to have that dead thing out of my life!


Transferring the Title

A thought came to me. "Lord, is there any chance that You would take over the management of the whole house and operate it for me as You did that closet?  Would You take the responsibility to keep my life what it ought to be?"

His face lit up as He replied, "I'd love to! That is what I want to do. You cannot be a victorious Christian in your own strength. But you must give Me the authority to proceed, since the property is not mine."

Dropping to my knees, I said, "Lord, You have been a guest and I have been the host. From now on I am going to be the servant. You are going to be the Owner and Master."

Running as fast as I could to the strongbox, I took out the title deed to the house describing its assets and liabilities, location and situation. I eagerly signed the house over to Him alone for time and eternity.  "Here," I said. "Here it is, all that I am and have, forever. Now You run the house. I'll just remain with You as a servant and friend."

Things are different since Jesus Christ has settled down and made His home in my heart.




Blessings today!

Peril to Passion

We watched a 2007 documentary this morning on the Learning Channel about the 1982 British Airways Flight 9 - which flew through a volcanic ash cloud and eventually lost all engines. It was the first time anything like this had ever happened. Nobody knew what was the matter as the cabin slowly filled with smoke, and the engines glowed with what appeared to be a blue flame - and eventually cut out.

Every person on board KNEW he or she was going to die. People were writing notes to their loved ones in case the salvage crews would find them. When the pilot and crew descended under 6,000 feet and were able to restart the engines, the sense of relief on board was obvious. And when they landed the plane in Jakarta in spite of not being able to see through the wind screen (the ash had sand-blasted the glass), and everyone realized they were all going to be okay, there was cheering, clapping, and more. Much more.

Perfect strangers were brought together through a shared peril and knowledge that they were saved from certain death. They hugged, laughed and cried together. And twenty-five years later, they were still meeting once a year to maintain contact. People from different walks of life, with varying abilities, beliefs, and plans, in those few hours, became - a family.

It was beautiful.

It got me to thinking. (I guess I think - a lot.) Perhaps the reason why so many Western churches are powerless, floundering in backbiting, gossip, power struggles and lovelessness, is because we've lost our first love : Him. We've forgotten the very basic reason we're all together in the first place.

We were all facing certain death. There was no escape. But He brought us to safety - to a place of hope, peace, and love where before, there was none of these things. That place is called Golgotha!!

We all share this marvelous deliverance, in spite of our own powerlessness to save ourselves. BECAUSE of our own powerlessness to save ourselves. Our Deliverer loved us so much that He brought us out of the place of despair and hopelessness into His Father's presence. Have we lost sight of that? where is our gratitude? has it all become about our comfort, our agendas?

Perhaps it's time to go back to the place of the Skull. To take a good, honest look at the One willingly dying there... for us : to rescue us from a fiery eternal death, just to open up a way for us to have intimacy, relationship with Him. Being able to commune with us was that important to Him! It's time to remember our utter hopelessness. To revisit our amazing deliverance. To refocus our faltering attention. To recapture our First Love. To overflow with gratitude, with joy!

Appearances, agendas, and position mean nothing. He means everything.
Gaze with me upon the Lamb. (click the link to read the story...)

Shoulds and Oughtas - Let the Walls Come Down

Remember the festive spirit that was present when the Berlin Wall came down?

The crowd cheering and roaring, the symbol of their captivity and oppression toppling before their eyes? it's a scene one doesn't easily forget. Some were yelling their heads off, some were throwing rocks at the wall, some were weeping, their faces in their hands. All great reactions to the tearing down of a thing that had been there all their lives, something that held them back, something that separated some of them from their loved ones, something that represented imprisonment, inhumanity, persecution, limitation.

On both sides of the wall before it came down, people went on with their lives and while they were doing so, some if not most of them probably justified their lifestyles. On the west side, people knew some of what was going on, on the other side. They'd heard the gunshots, they'd harbored those who had escaped, and they knew there were probably thousands of people on the other side of that wall who desperately wanted to get out but were afraid to try. Yet the ones in freedom were powerless to do anything to get them out. The decision had to be made by the people on the east side.

On the east side, there were those completely satisfied with the status quo, espousing the rhetoric of the government of the day. Others couldn't stand the oppression and risked their lives to leave. Few made it; the others were held up as an example of what happens to those who try. But there were still others (and dare I say these were the majority) who didn't want to risk life and limb to escape - yet they wistfully looked at that wall and wondered what life would be like if they were ever to be able to see on the other side.

I am going out on a limb here and saying that in many ways, the modern church is like living on the east side of the wall before it came down. Regimented, oppressive, judgmental, protectionist. Those who dare try to get out of that mold, the mold expected by the religious powers that be (I say religious deliberately), find themselves ostracized, stripped bare and crucified by the same people who say they espouse the teachings of Christ. But mostly, there are hundreds if not thousands of people who see the limitations, who despise the rules and regulations, and don't dare try to escape because they see how the ones who try to break free are treated. They want to be free. They hate what the church has become. Yet they have nowhere else to go. They know that only Jesus has the words of eternal life, and they are afraid that by "quitting Christianity" as one lady put it recently, they'll lose the only reference point they'll have, and will endanger their eternal soul. Nothing could be further from the truth.

The good news is that long ago, before we ever got in this horrible predicament, Jesus DID tear the wall down. The Bible tells us that the dividing wall that kept us from God was torn down when Jesus died on the cross. The veil of the Temple, six inches thick and several hundred pounds, that stood between the holy place and the most holy place - representing separation from God - was ripped from the top to the bottom as soon as Jesus cried out, "It is finished!" (From the Greek tetelestai, which means "accomplished" - in the sense of an unbreakable contract being fulfilled.) Did you get that? From the top to the bottom.

God Himself tore down the wall.

Relationship with Him trumps rules and regulations, the shoulds and the oughtas. It is about this life of intimacy, this life lived every moment in the Spirit of God, that Jesus said, "If anyone is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink! He who believes in Me, as the Scriptures said, 'out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water!' "

He comes to live inside of us when we claim Him as our personal Rescuer - the only way for us to approach a holy God. He forgives us. He makes us pure before Him. He loves us unconditionally. Passionately. Deeply.

The more we realize this, the more our gratitude overflows back to Him. It changes us on the inside...and overflows into a two-way love-relationship with Him: a oneness that can ONLY happen through the Spirit of God. Such a life can only be lived from the inside out, flowing from our trysting, our intimacy with Him. We love Him, the Bible says, because He first loved us. So, in response to His great love, our "return" love bursts out toward Him, overflows all over us and all over the lives of those with whom we come in contact.

In the context of that kind of intimacy, we don't need to "try" to live the Christian life. It's not something we have to put on like someone would put on a sweater. It is the inner glory, the love and the joy and the peace that clothe us from the inside, where He lives, where He loves us beyond our ability to comprehend, where we can't help but love Him back.

The question that gets us from behind the wall to where He waits for us is this:
Do we trust Him?

Are we willing to let go of everything we've leaned upon, all the s'postas and the gottas, all the stress we unnecessarily place on ourselves (as if it were up to US to save, heal, fix, and rescue everyone) - and give ourselves unreservedly with complete abandon ... to Him and Him alone? to turn our will and our lives - all of it - over to His loving care? Warts, failures, hurts, anger, pride, resentment, bitterness, fear, insecurity and all? just as we are?

It truly is a leap of faith. I'm not talking about "leaving the church." I'm talking about "embracing Christ" - walking in intimate relationship with Him.

I won't lie to you. It's a scary step. But His question still remains, perhaps as yet unanswered. "Will you trust Me?"

With that question hanging in the air, turn up the volume and listen to this story about a "Cosmic Cowboy" told in the 1970s by a man named Barry McGuire. Hear the call of Jesus in it: "Will you trust Me?"

Isn't it time? He's the only way out.
Go ahead ... jump.