Even in a desolate place

When he went ashore He saw a great crowd, and He had compassion on them and healed their sick. Now when it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a desolate place, and the day is now over; send the crowds away to go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” But Jesus said,“They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” Matthew 14:14-15

He had compassion on them all, the entire great crowd.  No matter what the circumstances, the choices, the attitudes or expectations.  He had compassion, because He knows of what we are made of, dust.  And He fed each and every one.  Each one was ordered to sit down and be served. And all were satisfied. And there were abundant leftovers.  

They need not go away, you give them something to eat, each and every one.

As I head out into my day, I too am going out into a great crowd.  And sadly, I am just beginning to put names to the faces, to the eyes.  And I am just beginning to hear stories. And just beginning to detect strengths and weaknesses and passions and not.  But that really doesn’t matter.  

It’s not about them.  He will feed them all. It’s not about me. My resources are paltry in facing the crowd. Two fishes and five loaves. 

It’s all about Jesus.

Then he broke the loaves and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And they all ate and were satisfied.

And so today, Lord Jesus, I bring you my little basket. Almost empty.  And in the words of the Burning Man prophet, fill her up.

May I too weep tears of joy.  

Maybe sprinkle a little more compost

And the servants of the master of the house came and said to him, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? How then does it have weeds?’ Matthew 13:27

I actually listened to the words of the songs we sang yesterday in church.  A lot of them were old songs and I marveled at the fresh new truths hidden in plain sight all of these years. And I was also struck by a line that reminded us that God knew from the very beginning of time that He would give His only begotten Son to save his scraggly, weedy, choked up but beloved seed, that the world through Him might be saved.  

Sometimes I feel particularly weedy and wilted and hardly worthy of being called a child of the King.  But He doesn’t give up; He doesn’t yank me out my my roots and toss me to one side. He waits.  For He is the LORD of the harvest.

And somehow the righteous shining like the sun in the kingdom of the Father more than balances all of that weeping and gnashing of teeth that we call life.  And I sort of get a glimpse of that, when I consider any harvest of any sort. It always involves lots of kneeling and digging and watering and fertilizing and weeding and pruning, but when all is said and done, there is the harvest celebrated with great joy.  And in our case, it is most often artichokes with lots of butter and garlic and lemon juice squeezed all over.

If it weren’t somehow worth it all, there would be no farmers, and we would all die.  The end result of all that weeping and gnashing is much, much bigger than the tiny seeds first sown.  Thirty, sixty, a hundredfold.  

And The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.

He makes everything beautiful, beautiful in His time.

Even me.

And a rainbow arched upward and disappeared into the clouds

Come, let us return to the Lord;

For He has torn us, that He may heal us;

He has struck us down, and He will bind us up.

Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord;

His going out is sure as the dawn;

He will come to us as the showers,

As the spring rains that water the earth.

For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice,

The knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.

Hosea 6, Matthew 12:7

Be glad and rejoice in the Lord your God,

for He has given the early rain for your vindication;

He has poured down for you abundant rain,

the early and the latter rain, as before.

The threshing floors shall be full of grain;

the vats shall overflow with wine and oil.

I will restore to you the years

that the swarming locust has eaten,

the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter,

my great army, which I sent among you.Amos 2:23-25

Somehow these Scriptures pull together so many small yet very vivid images from the past two days, wrapping them all up into one big hopeful promise. 

The brilliant pink burst momentarily lined the later rain clouds piled high in the east when I turned the corner of Tucson International Airport after dropping off Nicole as she heads to South Dakota to challenge students, teachers and families to be intentionally and courageously kind. Momentarily.  My next glance eastward, towards Aslan’s country, was filled with only heavy greyness, but the sign of glory had broken through, a promise.

Tucson is suffering a plague of swarming locusts: the hoppers, the destroyers, and the cutters, The little colorful bodies are throwing themselves upward and inward to every vulnerable space. Chomp, chomp, chomp through the basil and oregano by the front door, leaping into my classroom, along with a door-rattling blast of wind that blew framed pictures off the wall into shattering shards of glass. And while I can trap a few of them into mismatched petri dishes for an observation activity for my science students and toss a couple of the decidedly most unhappy ones into the black widow jar on my desk, hundreds of the little guys crunch underfoot. Underfoot, a promise.

Scooched together with a largish crowd of greying but perky souls who had gathered for foot-stomping fiddle playing, Carmen and I went to a folk music fundraiser last night headlined by Ryanhood.  Which of course meant a polished rendition of “Always Love You”:

No need to be so concerned with who is best or holiest... 

No need to be consumed with all the ways that you try to save your life...

because you are going to be sifted like the wheat, because no wheat is going to grow unless it dies... 

No need to be so confused by all the fires you have to walk though because they are breaking you and making you and building you to love the least of these, even Me... 

I will always walk with you, even if you feel you walk alone, And I will walk along with you unknown, I will walk along with you unknown, til you come home. Steadfast love, a promise.

And I had to pick a favorite verse for my Desert website biography.  So I wandered through myriad translations of Psalm 84:5, weighing “Blessed,” versus “How blessed,” and “Happy,” and “What joy for those.”  And considering “whose strength is in You” as contrasted with “strength is from the LORD,” and “strength is in Thee.” And  have I set my heart or my mind on a pilgrimage?  Or am I “disposed to ascend by steps”?

But what is more important than the me part of the verse, is the He part of the verse: He will heal us; He will bind us up; He will provide springs of water in the dry valleys, until we arrive home.

And there is 70% chance of rain today in Tucson, as just announced by NPR radio, which really means that drops are falling right on top of the announcer as he peers out of the window from his office somewhere at the university campus. And even surer than rain in Tucson today from the cumulonimbus clouds heaped up over the Catalinas, is His pouring down rain and the overflowing vats, a promise given so very long ago.

And let me not be a Pharisee who turns my back on Him, and walks away to conspire, because my plans and concerns and pride and sacrifice look different than His mercy. 

But let me be glad and rejoice in the LORD my God. May I enter the house of the God and eat the bread of His presence. Come let us return to the LORD.

Come unto me, all you weary and you wired

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light. Matthew 11: 28-30

Lord Jesus, Your burden is light and Your yoke is easy. I pray that we as Your people might be joyful and content exactly where we are, full of gratitude and making the most of all that You have given us, and the garden that You have given us tend.

And may my face shine

The one who receives a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet's reward, and the one who receives a righteous person because he is a righteous person will receive a righteous person's reward. And whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is a disciple, truly, I say to you, he will by no means lose his reward. Matthew 10:41-42

Sometimes, like most every time, that I pick up a paper and read about 2 millions Syrians refugees or Arizona’s overflowing foster-care system or impoverished teachers and poor schools in Nicaragua, I fret about not going into all the world, particularly if I am folding stacks of two-shirts-and-he-has-none laundry or rearranging cans on my pantry shelf just to squeeze in a few more granola bars and leftover pita chips.  

And here I am at 220 South Country Club Road, Tucson, Pima County, Arizona, The United States of America.  Forever, most likely, until they drive up the rolling cart to wheel away my donated-to-science body. How then am I to number my days, that I might gain the heart of wisdom that Jon talked about in devotions yesterday? For a man's wisdom makes his face shine, and the hardness of his face is changed.

And yet. Monday afternoon I received a couple of dust-encrusted prophets straight from the playa, and hosed them down and made a quick pop out to Food City for icy dark Bohemias, because that is what they liked. Tonight a beautiful young lady is going to join me on the back porch and hope for an-almost-autumn evening breeze and talk about what does it mean to live rightly.  And I sure pass out a lot of cold water smiles and specific positive feedbacks and splashes of experienced counsel just to make school and that which follows a little easier than one could possibly count.

So today let me receive with joy the reward of life, life abundant, God’s gift to those who lose theirs for His sake.  

Blessed is the one who finds wisdom, and the one who gets understanding, for the gain from her is better than gain from silver and her profit better than gold. She is more precious than jewels, and nothing you desire can compare with her. Long life is in her right hand; in her left hand are riches and honor. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.

Springs of water in the Valley of Baca

When He saw the crowds, He had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then He said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into His harvest.” Matthew 9:36-37

Playa dust is everywhere. Its fine particulates coat each surface with its subtle presence, impossible to really wipe clean. And underneath the swirling glitter and soaring scaffolds the sense of harassed and helpless is thick. Sue compared the event to the Tower of Babel: words, words, words stacked up high, the best efforts of man to remake society in our own image.  The founder told the folks from our team,  “There is no Supreme Being.  Being is Supreme,” with more than just a slight edge of arrogance. 

In gentle contrast, humility dwelt under the orange tents at coordinates 3G. And while tears of both joy and repentance flowed down and smeared the face paint and splashed off the equipment, words were few.  

Fill him up.

And the cold sparkling life-giving Spirit bubbled up and over the rim of hearts stretched open to welcome the wandering sheep seeking green pastures and cool waters in the burning desert, where no rest was to be found.  

Because laborers were to be found, kneeling in the powder, with hands lifted high and hearts bowed low. 

May the seeds of true freedom sprout a harvest of righteousness for many generations to come, for those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy.

Selah.

New wine in new wineskins

Jesus turned, and seeing her He said, “Take heart, daughter; your faith has made you well.” Matthew 9:22

Twelve years is a long time to bleed.  I ought to know.  

And once again, the ruler, having come to the end of his resources and hope, knelt before Jesus.  “Come and lay your hand on her, and she will live.”  And Jesus went in and took the girl by the hand, and the girl arose.  

And she said to herself, “If I only touch his garment, I will be made well. And instantly the woman was made well.

And as Jesus passed on from there, two blind men followed him, crying aloud, “Have mercy on us, Son of David.” When he entered the house, the blind men came to him, and Jesus said to them, “Do you believe that I am able to do this?” They said to him, “Yes, Lord.” Then he touched their eyes, saying, “According to your faith be it done to you.”

I believe; help my unbelief.