Turning Toward Magnificence: Giving Up Control

“Do not worry…”
Jesus offers us a life without anxiety and worry! Is he kidding? Is that too good to be true? Too perfect for us to even imagine, let alone trust? As an abstract idea, I think so.

What if this life freed from angst, like all the great gifts of God, is indeed too good to be true—unless and until we experience being in the presence of the living Christ? What if Jesus’ words alone cannot convince us? What if the power of faith comes from being in the presence of Christ? Sort of like possibilities for our lives that our parents and grandparents tell us. When we are in the lap of Mom or Dad, Grandma or Grandpa, we can believe them. But when we are all alone on our own, they seem too good to be true. Maybe to trust what God has in store for each and all of us, we need to be in the lap of someone who would gladly surrender their life for ours. In other words, trust comes from love, not logic.

‘Behold! And look away your low despair—
See the light tenants of the barren air:
To them nor stores nor granaries belong,
Nought but the woodland and the pleasing song;
Yet your kind heavenly Father bends his eye
On the least wing that flits along the sky.
To him the sing when Spring renews the plain,
To him they cry in Winter’s pinching reign;
Nor is their music, nor their plaint in vain.
He hears the gay and the distressful call,
And with unsparing bounty fills them all.
Observe the rising lily’s snowy grace;
Observe the various vegetable race;
They neither toil nor spin, but careless grow;
Yet see how warm they blush! How bright the glow!
What regal vestments can with them compare?
What king so shining, and what queen so fair?
If o’er the fields such lucid robes he spreads;
Will he not care for you, ye faithless, say?
Is he unwise? Or are ye less than they?’

James Thomson

Can “careless” become for us a word that is full of positive meaning—an adjective that is almost equal to “faithful” - instead of a reproach dripping with the accusation of being irresponsible? Let us know your thoughts in the comments!

Two Kinds of Glory

Borrowing from Martin Luther's description of right-handed vs. left-handed power, it was suggested this week that there is also right-handed and left-handed glory. When Jesus is transfigured on the mountain, it marks a moment of right-handed glory (the kind of glory the disciples and zealots wanted) that was more of an aside within a life that was full of left-handed glory. Right-handed glory is winning the award; left-handed is not even being recognized for doing it ... maybe even sacrificing yourself to achieve something that no one else recognizes as worthwhile.

We asked the gathering for examples of where they witnessed "left-handed glory" and received these responses:

• Journey of faith with friends and family during cancer journey;
• Random acts of kindness;
• Observing my mother care for my grandmother for years as her health and mind deteriorated;
• Starting a fundraiser for Sri Lanka after the tsunami;
• The purchase of a health club membership for another;
• A friend heard my secrets and still loved me;
• My "guardian angel" at work after my house was flooded;
• Women who made knitted caps for merchant seamen at Christmas;
• When and wherever I can serve when asked;
• People;
• My brother;
• Helping to clean the earth;
• Providing children who are abused or disadvantaged my home: a safe haven;
• Disabled Dallas lady in a motorized wheelchair;
• Someone making a place for a lost soul;
• Sweaty, stinky, bug-bitten and repairing roofs in Mississippi;
• Bedrest;
• Sitting with a friend diagnosed with cancer;
• Jumpstarting a strangers car and refusing to accept anything but her thanks;
• Rocking out at an AIDS benefit concert;
• Not giving up on the reluctant runner;
• Appalachia

Have your own reflections to add to the list? Please do so in the comments!

We draw near ...

The Transfiguration
When he took the three disciples
to the mountainside to pray,
his countenance was modified, his clothing was aflame.
Two men appeared: Moses and Elijah came;
they were at his side.
The prophecy, the legislation spoke of whenever he would die.

Then there came a word
of what he should accomplish on the day.
Then Peter spoke, to make of them a tabernacle place.
A cloud appeared in glory as an accolade.
They fell on the ground.
A voice arrived, the voice of God,
the face of God, covered in a cloud.

What he said to them,
the voice of God: the most beloved son.
Consider what he says to you, consider what's to come.
The prophecy was put to death,
was put to death, and so will the Son.
And keep your word, disguise the vision till the time has come.

Lost in the cloud, a voice: Have no fear! We draw near!
Lost in the cloud, a sign: Son of man! Turn your ear!
Lost in the cloud, a voice: Lamb of God! We draw near!
Lost in the cloud, a sign: Son of man! Son of God!

***

When have you noticed someone perform a humble, caring act that you’ve seen often before but this time it lit up with such incandescence that it seemed like God was back-lighting the moment?

When have you heard a phrase of music that you’ve heard before but this time it resonated with such soul power it sounded like the angel chorus singing directly to you?

When have you watched children play with such trust, abandon, cooperation, and joy that though the moment passed in a flash you were convinced you’d seen into eternity?

When have you witnessed transfiguration?

Share your stories in the comments!

Amazing Grace

This is a great commercial that really gets at the raw and personal nature of what the Gospel is supposed to be. Leave it to the Salvation Army ... they've been doing this whole missional thing for their whole existence.

Walking through Walls

Tacked to the wall in the tiny office at the little country church I served in Boone County was a yellowing piece of paper which said “You are now entering the mission field.” I always found it curious, because it did not hang over the door leading from the office into the sanctuary, but rather on the back wall; the outside wall next to the window which faced the highway. From behind the frosted glass, you could hear the cars — objects of individual autonomy — speed by. They were blurs occupied by people who probably didn't even notice that anybody worshiped there. We tried signs, lights and balloons; I even spent most non-winter mornings before worship on the stoop waiving at every car. But nobody ever stopped.

It didn't take long for me to realize there was something fundamentally wrong with our friendly and open invitations ... our community “outreach” as it were. They said “You're welcome to meet us on our ground; where we are comfortable and happy and historically in charge.”

It wasn't until we left the building and the old stories and all the phrases beginning “I remember when” that we had any real influence on the community around us. It wasn't until we moved our conversations about faith to the florist shop, and the diner, and the softball games that people began to listen to our stories and seek us out for help or friendship. It was then that we realized, collectively, that somebody had put that mantra-bearing piece of paper on the outside wall with a purpose. To be in mission with God and grow a community of faith, you have to be willing to go through your own walls and maybe even knock them down.

This is why I am advocating that the church retire “outreach” and instead adopt a more missional ideal. The traditional “outreach” language implies that the arms are the only thing that moves to embrace the world with the Gospel. By remaining fixed to a location, a rubric of expectations or an unwritten pattern of customs, a great portion of the community we serve is out of reach. By becoming a missional people, we imply that the whole body is moving and is no longer able to sit behind the walls of a building or expectations (both perceived and expressed). To be viable, we must be missional. This includes, but is not limited to, holding classes, meetings and activities in public settings so people threatened by the structure may have opportunities to participate. I hope to embody that soon by holding regular office hours outside of the church. The worship team is pursuing options for establishing a community which meets in area restaurants on Sunday mornings. And the techno-literate are looking into creating virtual and “electronic” gatherings via popular internet social networking tools.

It is interesting to remember all the movement in the story of Jesus that leaves behind what was once important. The shepherds left behind the fields, the magi put aside their books, and emerged from the studies and homeland. Eventually the Holy Family left behind the stable and the mange. Jesus left his home behind; the disciples left their boats behind; a tax collector left his comfort behind. Even the cross and the tomb were abandoned after they had served their purpose. What grows communities of faith are not the things, but the people; people who genuinely care about their neighbor enough to go where their neighbor is. The things that we call “church” (buildings, programs and institutional rigor) are all secondary to the people — the body of Christ. They are meant to support a people moving toward their neighbors in love. Without people on the move, structures lose their reason, and the body loses its spirit. The Jesus we know is always on the move, and it is never just his arms. When he says follow, I think he means with all of ourselves. Let's step off the stoop and head into the mission field, because that is where the Body of Christ needs to be fortified.

Rhymes, Animal Sounds, The Who and Links

I don't know if the message got through today, but it was really an enjoyable time to reflect on and with God in community today at iWitness. I really enjoyed observing the communication exercise, and thank you to the families which tried very hard to incorporate their "exchange students."

As promised, the link:

Stumbling over My Life