East, West and the Space Between

This is not the Easter story I was trying to write.  I wanted to write something befitting the joy and triumph of redemption, something extolling the glory of the work God did through Christ on my behalf that early morning long ago. But, I was interrupted by a sharp look at myself.  And, given my previously unscribed commitment to stay real, this is the Easter story I must write before I write anything else.

In case there are any of you out there who are living under an assumption that Christians do not intentionally do wrong sometimes, stand corrected.  Even those of us who try to navigate the waters of sincerely following Jesus in this world do sin.  And, sometimes we do it knowing full well what we are doing.  It’s an ugly story.

I offended someone last week–actually two people.  I would love to say that it was an accident, that I didn’t mean to do it.  But, it wasn’t, and I knew that my actions probably would offend.  Chalk it up to a difficult week or an incorrect assumption.  Excuse it as not thinking before speaking or using poor judgement.  Whatever my justification flavor of the moment, the fact is that I knew what I was doing.  I even rejected the voice of my better angel telling me not to do it.  At the moment, I just didn’t care. And so, I offended two people.

One forgave me.  One didn’t, and I suppose it may have cost me whatever friendship we had.  And while I was disappointed that our relationship wasn’t worth an act of forgiveness, I can’t begrudge the choice God gave her to make.  I can only wish she had chosen differently.  I wish  I had chosen differently.  Yes, because my actions hurt other people.  But, more than that, because my actions showed who I still am.

When I peek into the reflection, I’m so disappointed.  In myself.  In the blackness I see in my own heart. Deep in the corners and crevices are places ugly and dark with the need for light and redemption and reform.  Those places weigh my head down in sorrow and shame at how little I seem to have learned. Those places drive me to the scarred feet of that Man.  The One who was laid in the tomb, bloodied. They drive me to view the absence of that Man at the resting place of death. They drive me to seek Him elsewhere. To take comfort in a renewed redemption. To once again seek the separation. As far as the East is from the West. To live in that space. Between. And to get up.

This is not the washed Easter story I would have written.  No, only more so. In this story, the gently folded shroud is still bloodied by pain inflicted.  The cloths left in piles are still soiled and stinking with recent sin. The rough-hewn rocky room is still dark with the self-sightedness of poor judgement, still jagged with the blows of carving out redemption.  But, at the end of the day, the story is the same. At the end of the day–the second day–that Man was dead. And, just before daybreak on day three, He got up. Just like the sun, He established His trek westward reserving the space between, the distance from my sin that allows me to get up.  And, that’s my Easter story.

cross

it still sheds rough-hewn splinters
shining with the blood
of human prejudice,
turned and bent,
painted in black
on a red and white banner.

it still heats an angry mob
clad in pure
white hoods
standing in a yard,
set ablaze by the fire
of fear and hate.

it still holds a man stretched,
now in burnished bronze
or polished marble,
hung on our walls
and kept frozen
in dead faith.

yet, it still bears life,
a bloody, skin-shredded back pressed
against dirty beams, His bones
and veins ruptured with rusted spikes
driven by the exchange
of pain for healing, death for life.

“…by His wounds we are healed.” (isaiah 53:5)

Where Resolutions Come From, Part 2

If you read my Part 1 of Where Resolutions Come From, you know that the theme word of the year resolve is a new concept I’m eager to explore.  It encouraged me to get beyond a list of to-dos and focus on how I want to be a year from now.  As Slightly Cosmopolitan put it’s something “that reminds you what’s most important and what’s at the heart of all your other goals.”

Hmmm.  And, what about those other goals?  Enter the 252 approach I mentioned in part 1.

“and Jesus grew in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and men.” (luke 2:52)

It may seem like a small and insignificant footnote to the greater truths of Scripture, but somehow I think the verse is  powerful.  It has something to teach me about what’s important.  I was reminded again of its power a few weeks ago when reading the blog of Paul Young, author of the New York Times best-seller The Shack (anxious to read this one.)  He wrote a post about the nature of significance beginning with a statement from his book:  “if anything matters… everything matters.”  His point was that significance is derived from being, not doing [woo hoo, theme word].  Trying to gain significance from doing is inevitably fruitless.  But, when we live based on the significance we have because we are human beings created in God’s image, our “doing” becomes an out-flow and response to that relationship with Him.  Therefore, everything becomes significant.

That’s a shift in thinking!  The laundry drying in the background and the 50 times I’ll likely wash those same clothes this year are significant.  Washing the dishes in my sink, and the 350 times I’ll likely wash them again this year are significant.  The lightbulb is getting brighter, but how does that relate to resolutions and 252?

The time between 252 and the launch of Jesus’ ministry at His baptism was approximately 30 years.  Other than an overnight Temple experience, we don’t know anything about what he “did” during that time.  Yet, Mr. Young reminded me of this:

Jesus spent 30 years ‘doing’ nothing (as the world would understand it), but the first thing we hear about him out of his Father’s mouth is how pleased Father is of His boy.  Did Jesus become significant because of the next three years?  Nope.  He was already significant.

Whatever Jesus did during those 30 years, it was a sinless pleasure to God, and it prepared Him for the greatest accomplishment mankind has ever known.  And, all that God saw fit to tell us about that period was that he grew in four areas–four areas of focus that must be pretty important in becoming the well-rounded, God-pleasing, best versions of ourselves:

1) Wisdom
Jesus grew mentally.  (watchful thinking, decision-making skills, application of knowledge)

2) Stature
Jesus grew physically. (in strength, in stamina, maintaining the body efficiency and economy that God made)

3) Favor with God
Jesus grew spiritually.  (embracing the ways of God and the permanence of his Word, loving the loves of God, acting on the priorities of God)

4)  Favor with Men
Jesus grew relationally.  (building favor with others, building up others, respecting others, loving others honestly and selflessly)

Even in the daily-ness of life, I can see that almost everything I “do” has some sort of impact (positively or negatively) in at least one of those four areas.  And, each area affects my “being” the God-pleasure I was designed to be.  This year, I’ll be looking for ways to allow my theme word to manifest itself in each of those four areas.  Thanks for sharing the journey with me and stay tuned.

12th Day of Christmas: Lullaby for a Savior

SONG:
Close your eyes in the dark of this night
midst the rustling of angel flight,
under the stars I have set to illumine
Your first fleeting moments of being human.
Rest in the arms that You have created,
though divine thoughts for now are faded,
stilled by the moment of redemption begun,
covered with the swaddling of flesh and bone.

Sleep, my Beloved, in silent, trusting peace
knowing not the things yet to be.
But, somewhere in your soul, in deep infant thought,
may You embrace the plan in love I have wrought.

Hush now, my Son, the lips that one day
will teach my people and proclaim the Way.
Dry the tears that soon will flow free
for a generation with eyes that can’t see.
Still, dear One, the hands that years hence
will heal the blind, and lepers cleanse.
Rest, precious Child, the feet that will grow
to walk a hill, salvation to bestow.

Sleep, my Child, and let Your thoughts deepen,
for the dreams You are dreaming are memories of heaven –
Visions of glory, of light, of truth.
Time will reawaken the diety in You.

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the heavens
the angels were silent in anticipation.
For centuries they had waited for such a special flight,
and now it would happen this very night.

In the throne room the Father talked with His Son
of dreams and desires and what was to come.
“My Son, I’ve loved them since breathing their life,
and for years they’ve suffered with sin and strife.
Now it’s time to offer them relief,
for the groan of their sorrow is more than I can take.”

“Oh, Father, I’ve begun to feel their yearning
even before I take my journey.
The weight of their burden is heavy on my back.
I can almost feel the sting of their attacks.
Inside me the sadness of leaving burns,
but, Father, I can bring them when I return.”

“Yes, we’ll be united with our bride.
She’ll no longer have a reason to hide.
And, you’ll return to me, this I know.
But now, my love, You must go.
Gabriel!  Come!  Assemble your band.
For the birth of My Son is now at hand.”

With the stroke of His hand He split the sky.
As He watched the departure He heaved a sigh,
for He knew the sin His Son would endure
and the punishment of death–His suffering was sure.
But, this night all of heaven would rejoice
as they hailed the mystery of the Master’s choice
to limit Himself to the form of a babe
to bring reunion with those He would save.
So as He dripped a star from His fingertips
praises rang from the angels’ lips,
but the Father was quiet, a tear on His cheek
from the painful price required for peace.
And, from the joy He saw in ages to come,
when all His children would join Him at home.

So this night before Christmas as you drift to sleep,
and He sends His hosts with protection and peace,
may you keep His love for you well in sight,
and Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.