And then there was light.

March 28, 2017

Then, speaking to all, He said, ‘If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross everyday and follow me.’ Luke 9:23

O LORD, I cry to You for help; in the morning my prayer comes before You. Psalm 88:14

Simon Peter answered Him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. John 6:68

Welp. Yesterday was a stinking awful day.

But really, His mercies are new every morning. Great is His faithfulness. Really.

And every day I can sort of glower at that ol’ cross, waiting to be taken up. The same way that us swimmers hesitate every morning before we plunge into Hillenbrand pool.

But what are the options?

To whom shall I go?

This morning I stepped outside and breathed in deeply. It rained last night, just as the rumbling mountains had promised. I stood under the damp jasmine blossoms dripping sweet fragrance and stared at the sky and her twinkling hosts. And breathed in deeply. 

Your mercies are new, new every morning. Your mercies are new, new every morning.

You spoke into darkness, and then there was light.

Your mercies are new, new every morning. Your mercies are new, new every morning.

It doesn’t mean that today will be simple.

I still have to face the consequences of leaving a girl in the open-doored classroom yesterday to finish up her raw egg parachute while I watched Scene I from Romeo and Juliet, and she decided to use the scissors on her wrist rather than for cutting plastic bags.

Somehow I am going to have to find time to write sub lessons so I can judge the Southern Arizona Science and Engineering Fair.

And all of those argumentative essays and character analyses and lab journals to grade and post. On to genetics and the Bill of Rights.

And upheaval smolders all around. Mt. Etna has been making the news of late, and I so remember her sooty darkness that sifted down from the sky that prevented me from even seeing the hand in front of my face.

In my darkest hour

In humiliation

I will wait for You

I am not forsaken

Oh, I lose my life,

Oh, my breath be taken

I will wait for You

I am not forsaken

One thing I desire

To see You in Your beauty

You are my beauty

Yeah, You are my only. –Audrey Assad

To whom else shall I go?

March 29, 2017

The Refrain

I was pressed so hard that I almost fell, but the LORD came to my help.

Return, O my soul, to your rest;
    for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.

Thank you Lord for the lovingkindness poured down overflowing all day around my head.

You are good. You are so good. You are so good to me.

Costly grace will cost you absolutely nothing, but it will demand that you risk absolutely everything.

Love the LORD, all you who worship him; the LORD protects the faithful, but repays to the full those who act haughtily. Be strong and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the LORD. Psalm 31:23–24

On August 24, the Church remembers St. Bartholomew, called Nathaniel in the Gospel of John and one of the twelve apostles. Tradition says Bartholomew traveled to India and founded the Church in Armenia, where he was flayed to death and then beheaded for the faith.

Jesus taught the apostles, saying: ‘Among the gentiles it is the kings who lord it over them and those who have authority over them are given the title Benefactor. With you, this must not happen. No; the greatest among you must behave as if he were the youngest, the leader as if he were the one who serves. For who is the greater: the one at table or the one who serves? The one at table, surely? Yet here I am among you as one who serves! Luke 22:25–28

How can we have amazing grace for all of our own people — but have amazingly quick finger pointing for all who aren’t?

How can we love mercy for our people, and not love mercy for all people made in the image and likeness of God?

When we are against abortion but are for the cutting of welfare, when our political agendas are loud but our daily schedules are pretty quiet about serving people different than us, when we get up on our soapboxes about morality, we look like we’re more about self-preservation than community transformation, we look like we’re more about judgment than Jesus. The life of Jesus would radically suggest: The most conservative in theology, should be the most liberal in loving.

The life of Jesus would radically suggest: Don’t advertise your beautiful faith without advertising your broken-down faults — because those broken-down faults are the exact reason why you need your beautiful faith.

The life of Jesus would radically suggest: This Cheap Grace is costing the Church its voice. –Ann Voskamp, 

So Ann quotes a lot from Bonhoeffer in yesterday’s meditations.

And serving is costly.

And sometimes, well, a lot of times, I fuss and fret at God because the Way is bumpy and uncomfortable and unclear. And Not Fair. That is why He gave us a lamp unto our feet. To see the next step right in front of the last.

But the written Word was not clear enough for us hard-hearted and broken people, so the Word became flesh and dwelt among men. And the Word took off his royal robe, wrapped a towel around His waist and knelt down and washed grimy feet.

And my day is filled with grimy feet and grimy fingers. And trying to teach kids who moved here last year from Rwanda how to conjugate verbs in Spanish or the girl who didn’t sleep last night because her parents were fighting and now she doesn’t want figure out how to solve word problems. And lots and lots of people who don’t do things exactly as they should. Or how I think they should. Who say one thing and do another. Just like me.

And Ann reminds me that The Bible is full of hypocrites — the Bible is full of liars and cheaters and mockers and deceivers, adulterers, peddlers, panhandlers, elitists and hypocritical crooks — and the Bible is full of a costly grace for every single one of them — which gives every single one of the likes of us appalling, relentless hope.

It’s never our unwavering clinging to God in our brokenness, but God’s unwavering carrying of us through our brokenness — that holds all the broken in a healing love.

And Bonhoeffer reminds me of the call of the one who was pierced for our sake: The call of every Christian is to come pick up a Cross and come die.

And it is in this daily death that I will find life. Fresh life springing up out of the earth, green and full of hope. And it pretty much rained all night last night. From when I dozed off in the hammock in the backyard from watching lightning streaks to drizzling all the way through swim practice this morning. And as I flipped back and forth, I thought about all of the weeds that were going to fill the front yard. The front yard that I cleared for five hours just a few Saturdays ago. But yes, there are going to be bright blue and orange and yellow wildflowers mixed in too.

And His rain falls on the just and the unjust. And it is not my job to weed His garden. It is my job to sow seeds.

Take my heart, it is Your own
And fill my hands with seeds to sow.

And Ann talks about His rain as well. His raindrops of mercy. And a costly grace.

…the way it is when a costly grace rains down relief on all our open wounds —-and you can’t help but dance, all the broken and busted tearing up the dark.

I thought about old Nathaniel as well. Who had no idea where that call from under the fig tree would lead him. But Jesus promised that he would see great things, that he would see heaven open wide.

For the joy set before him.

For the joy set before me.

Take my heart, it is Your own.

Chicken buses piled high trundle up the mountain pass

Worship the LORD in the beauty of holiness; let the whole earth tremble before him. Psalm 96:9

One aspect of holiness is that of set apartness. With no entanglements. Without a divided heart.

Jesus taught us, saying: ‘No one who prefers father or mother to me is worthy of me. No one who prefers son or daughter to me is worthy of me. Anyone who does not take his cross and follow in my footsteps is not worthy of me. Anyone who finds his life will lose it; anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it. Matthew 10:37–39

It is kind of eerie that just this moment, as I was considering the whisper of Quetzaltenango, well, protesting the whisper with images of momma and Heather and Everette and maybe even Andrea that this would be my lectio divina verse. And as I searched Facebook for glimpses of those blond curls, I noticed a story in my little Camino blog that I sometimes read about a Jewish pagan with dreadlocks who had happened into a mass along the road. Near the end of mass the nuns announced they made a token for the pilgrims to be passed out at the blessing. The main priest invited each of us and laid hands on out foreheads and gave a blessing. As I moved to the right the nuns gave me the handmade gift. It was a paper Star of David. What a Mitzvah.

How unsearchable His judgments, and His paths beyond tracing out.

And Xela is a mixture of roses twisted around unfinished cement block walls. There is some pounding eurotechno racket in the background just as the cloudy skies are starting to brighten with the early dawn. The brightly wrapped Mayans make me feel positively Entish wandering the streets under the smoking volcanoes. Motorcycles roar down the ever so narrow cobbled stones.

Is this a continuation of that path? As I scan over the many voices who have spoken to me this month, there is a pattern, a pattern language, forming under the speckled swaying light.

And I opened up Letters to Malcolm where the folded up paper marked my spot: Intercourse between God and man occurs at particular moments for the man, but not for God. If there is–as the very concept of prayer presupposes–an adaption between the free actions of men in prayer and the course of events, this adaption is from the beginning inherent in the great single creative act.

Glory in His holy Name; let the hearts of those who seek the LORD rejoice. Psalm 105:3

Old Eustace couldn't scrape off his dragon skin by himself

But Jesus turned and faced his disciples and rebuked Peter. “Out of my way, Satan!” he said. “Peter, you are not looking at things from God’s point of view, but from man’s!” Mark 8:33

Man’s point of view is safe and secure with him in control. Trying to avoid Jerusalem at all costs. It was not the heathen idol-worshipping political rulers who battled with Jesus at every shoreline, rather he was utterly repudiated by the elders and chief priests and scribes. They were the unfaithful and sinful generation. Man’s point of view involves making little clubs of Who is out and Who is in, and checking membership cards at the door.  God’s way is to Go out to the highways and hedges and compel people to come in, that His house may be filled.

This is the good news, the gospel. The man who tries to save his life will lose it; it is the man who loses his life for my sake and the Gospel’s who will save it.

God’s point of view is giving up all rights to self.

Of course there is Lewis (maybe I will just curl up in the hammock and the afternoon sun today instead of writing lesson plans on Production and hacer idioms and reread Mere Christianity yet once again) “Give me all of you. I don’t want so much of your time, so much of your talents and money, and so much of your work. I want you, all of you. I have not come to torment or frustrate the natural man or woman, but to kill it. No half measures will do. I don’t want to only prune a branch here and a branch there; rather I want the whole tree out! Hand it over to me, the whole outfit, all of your desires, all of your wants and wishes and dreams. Turn them all over to me, give yourself to me and I will make of you a new self---in my image. Give me yourself and in exchange I will give you Myself. My will, shall become your will. My heart, shall become your heart.” 

If anyone wants to follow in My footsteps, he must give up all right to himself, take up his cross and follow Me.

The cross leads to death.

And life, life abundantly. Good things from the Heavenly Father for His children, His will, His heart, Himself.