It’s All a Matter of the Who

On Good Friday morning a self-described agnostic was discussing his book regarding the existence of God on a morning cable news program. While I admittedly missed much of the discussion, I passed by the TV at the point he questioned the significance of Christ’s resurrection in light of the fact that the Bible says that ‘many holy people who had died were raised to life’. In other words, if these other people came back to life, what made Jesus’ resurrection so much greater?

I confess that hearing his argument made me stop and think. Indeed, there are several accounts in both the Old and New Testaments of the dead coming back to life. Among them, both Elijah and Elisha raised the sons of widows back from the dead. Of course, we know about Lazarus, but there is also the daughter of Jairus coming back to life at the command of Christ.

The thing is, all of these people died again. I’m confident the young men Elijah and Elisha brought back to life grew up, mostly likely married, became fathers and even grandfathers; but at some point they were once again “gathered to their people” in the sleep of death. Jairus’ daughter likewise probably grew up to marriage and motherhood – and I would think likely become one of those who were to be called Christians. Lazarus too enjoyed a few more years of life as a witness to the birth of the church. We don’t know much about those holy people raised to life on the day Jesus died, but we do know one important thing – they were not God.

What that agnostic author fails to take into account, in his questioning of the importance of Christ’s resurrection, is the difference between all of those who were raised from the dead and the One who rose from the grave that first Easter morning. The difference is the most crucial truth in all of human history. In Colossians 1, Paul explains the difference this way:

"The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy."

I add my voice to the “great cloud of witnesses” who before me understood why Christ’s resurrection reigns above all others:


I believe in God, the Father almighty,
creator of heaven and earth.
I believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord,
who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
born of the Virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, died, and was buried;
he descended to the dead.
On the third day he rose again;
he ascended into heaven,
he is seated at the right hand of the Father,
and he will come to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy catholic Church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting.
Amen.

(The Apostles Creed, as written in the Common Book of Prayer)

God's Wisdom

One thing I’ve noticed about my journey on the narrow road is how easily I get distracted by the opportunities along the way. I can become lost in looking for which direction God wants me to go. I get excited about this prospect and then I get excited about that possibility, all the while running from one thing to another, trying to figure out which is the one God wants me to do.

For those who have read Donald Miller’s A Million Miles in a Thousand Years (if you haven’t read it, you should), you will understand when I say that I truly want to live a better story. My problem is I have too many plot lines going on at once and I’m trying to pull them all together into one coherent story. It isn’t working.

I’m like the person described in James, chapter 1, who is plagued by doubt – tossed back and forth, afraid of making a mistake and missing God. I know we read that portion of Scripture and imagine the double-minded person as being unsure of his faith and is therefore wavering between belief and unbelief or between one doctrine and another. However, recently as I was reading James, I could see that a person of faith (me) could also be double-minded by moving in a thousand different directions at once.

The thing is, I’m promised the wisdom I lack – just by asking for it. Only after asking for it, I get lost in trying to figure out how to apply ‘wisdom’ to all of my various situations and find myself mired in confusion. I let uncertainty, which is just another word for doubt, rob me of the peace found in simply following Christ. Doubting, even doubting in which direction to go, brings with it a wishy-washy frame of mind resulting in hesitancy and sputtering and I end up going nowhere.

I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s my focus that is the problem. 1 Corinthians 1:24 & 30 refer to Christ as the wisdom of and from God. I’ve been looking for the results of wisdom, when I should be looking at wisdom – Jesus Christ. God promises to give us wisdom if we ask. In other words, if we ask we will get Jesus. Jesus, the Great Shepherd who will guide me along the paths I am to travel.

I need to get my focus off all the various possibilities and onto the One who makes all things possible.

Remember Me

This is Holy Week. The week we remember exactly what it means to be a Christian; to be a follower of Christ. The week starts with Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem riding on the colt of a donkey, while the Passover crowds celebrate him as a king. Towards the end of the week, these same crowds either called for Jesus’ crucifixion or remained silent when others demanded his death. At the very end, they lined the streets as Jesus carried his cross to Golgotha.

Many other things happened that week as well, the most meaningful to me are the ones that didn’t occur in the presence of the fickle crowds – the Last Supper, Jesus’ time in the Garden of Gethsemane, and what we learn on the walk from one to the other.

At the Last Supper we witness Jesus the servant as he washes the disciples’ feet. In that act, we learn the importance of being a servant, not only to the world around us, but also to the people we love the most. We also learn that it takes humility to follow Jesus – we have to let him touch us where we are dirty. We need him to wash us of our filth. We cannot wash ourselves; we have to let him do it.

At the Last Supper, we receive one the most precious commandments of Christ – “Do this in remembrance of me.” In communion, we remember the life, death and promised return of our Lord Jesus. We remember that he is a gift to us – a body broken and shared. We remember that by his blood, we have a new covenant; a covenant of forgiveness for all who will receive it. And what means so much to me – we remember all of this as we share communion together with our family of believers. Communion is not just about our individual relationship with Jesus – it’s also about our relationship with our brothers and sisters in Christ.

At the Last Supper, we receive the promise of one day actually sitting at a table with Jesus and breaking bread. More often than not we share our meals with those we love and cherish. I can’t wait to share a meal with Jesus.

Fresh Air

I cook fish sometimes. Every so often, I leave the garbage in the house one day too long. After being cooped up in the house for awhile, the atmosphere can just be stale. The problem is that I don’t realize it, until after I’ve gone out to the mailbox to get the mail and come back inside. Then I know very well that my house smells. Until then though, I live with smelly, stale air without realizing it because I grow accustomed to it. But once I do, up go the windows – some upstairs, some down; some in the front and others in the back – all in an effort to create a cross breeze that will blow the stinky, stale air right on out. My house just feels better.

That’s what I feel like has happened to my spirit recently. The year 2009 was difficult and those difficulties forced me to realize that the atmosphere in my spirit was stale and musty. The issue is that I’d learned to live with the staleness. It took God moving within those situations for me to realize that I needed to open the windows of my soul and allow the fresh, cleansing breeze of the Holy Spirit to blow the stuffiness out. My spirit just feels better.

I feel like I’ve been dormant for awhile now – not living a life of sin, but certainly not living a life of adventure and challenge. I’ve been in a rut on my journey on the narrow road. I’ve stopped looking around to see what points-of-interest God wants me to see. I’ve been passing by those on the road who are struggling with their journey. I’ve stopped trying to share the joy of the journey on the narrow road with those lost in the crowds, bright lights and false promises of the broad road that will only lead them to despair.

But God, (one of my most favorite phrases) doesn’t want me let me stay in my musty, stuffy life. He has more for me to do, He has better plans than I do, and He has challenges I may shrink from, but are so worth facing. For the first time in a long time, I can’t wait to see what’s next.

"Light(s) Please"

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
Luke 2:8-14 (King James Version)

My favorite Christmas program, bar none, is "A Charlie Brown Christmas", especially the scene where Linus walks out onto the stage and says "Lights Please". Every time I read the passage about the birth of Jesus, I hear Linus' voice in my head has he explains to Charlie Brown what Christmas is really all about.

After all the Christmas messages we've heard or read, what is there left to say about Christmas that hasn't already been said. Jesus is the greatest Gift. He is the reason for the season. He is Emmanuel, God with us.

What strikes me this year however, is something the angel said to the shepherds. They were told about 'tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people'. In the NIV it says 'good news of great joy that will be for all people' (italics & bold mine).

Is Jesus, God with us, actually good news for all people? - absolutely.

Do all people know that to be true? - No, sadly they don't.

Way too many people only know poverty, oppression, disease, cruelty and fear.

It was an angel who made the initial proclamation of God's unfathomable promise made with the birth of the babe in Bethlehem, but it is up to us to bear witness to the fulfillment of that promise in the person of Jesus Christ.

As I get ready to celebrate the joy of Christmas with my family and loved ones, I must pause to consider those around the world who live without joy, without dignity, and without hope.

When Christmas comes around next year I want to bake, buy and wrap with more joy because of what I will do in the next 12 months to make sure that more people have reason to celebrate what Christmas really is all about.

Light(s) please...

Meditations of my Heart

“Christian meditation, very simply, is the ability to hear God’s voice and obey his word. It is that simple.” Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline, page 17.

It really is that simple, I guess. Since beginning my practice of meditation last spring, I have made a few discoveries – about meditation and about myself.

My problem is that left to myself I do meditate, but on the wrong things. I somewhat obsessively ruminate on thoughts that are not helpful or healthy. I all too often fail to take captive every thought and make it obedient to Christ as exhorted to do in 2 Corinthians 10:5 Instead, I hear my own (or the enemy’s) voice swirling around in my head, drowning out the still small voice of the One who gives life and health to my soul.

Through the summer, I’ve been reminded of my desperate need to make time to meditate on God’s voice speaking through Scripture and on His voice speaking to my spirit. The problem is the how…how do I sit down somewhere and meditate on the things of God without all the other thoughts elbowing their way in?

In my discouragement and frustration I made a discovery. The truth is I’ve actually practiced the discipline of mediation for a long time. I write. I am a writer. I journal. God, in His infinite patience, reminded me that writing focuses my thoughts and prayers. Through journaling, I’ve mulled over Scripture, poured out my heart and then listened to Gods’ small still voice. My journals are full of mediations on paper. I’ve long known that journaling is indispensable to the practice my faith. I just didn’t consider it an actual spiritual discipline. I do now.

I guess the lesson is this: the discipline of meditation is not practiced in a pre-defined way. Some may sit and contemplate, others may walk, others may write music, and still others like me will write. In whatever manner we can successfully set aside our own thoughts for God’s we must practice it, keeping in mind our goal:

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing
in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer. (Psalm 19:14, NIV)

Coming in September - the discipline of prayer

What I Take with Me

I apologize for taking an unplanned hiatus from sending postcards. I planned on writing about what I learned about meditation in July as my first step in practicing the spiritual discplines discribed by Richard Foster in the Celebration of Discpline. I was also planning to continue with my discussion on root sin. Between swim lessons, a family vacation, and starting a non-profit; the summer got away from me. Before I knew it, we were fast approaching 'back to school' for my kindergartner and 1st grader. Those topics I will get to I promise, but this one is for my dad.

The weekend before school started; my dad who suffered with Alzhiemer's and Parkinson's contracted pneumonia and my family knew where this would end. The end stages of these diseases deprive their victims of the ability to swallow. Their food is aspirated into their lungs and pneumonia results. My dad passed from this journey into the next on Monday, August 10th.

During the hours preceding his passing, my mind filled with memories. As a very little girl, when we were out in crowds, my dad's hand was too big for my little one, so I would hold onto his index finger and feel so safe. My dad taught me how to ride a bike, a small blue Schwinn. The same bike he would ground me from riding if I came home late for dinner. In 1971, my dad took our family to Disney World - the year it opened. No one was more excited than he. The only thing he loved more than the park itself, was how much I loved it. My dad and I were both graduates of Indiana University and once or twice each fall/winter, we'd make our way to Bloomington for Bear's pizza and a basketball game. We, along with my step-mom, step-sister and brother shared an unfortable trip to New Orleans to watch IU win the 1987 National Championship. With my brother, my dad shared a love of automobile racing and I know my brother now treasures those trips to mid-Ohio, Watkins Glen, Daytona and all of the time spent at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Of course, some memories are painful, but I will lay those to rest with him and only keep the treasured ones.

I will remember him for how much he loved my brother and me. For us, he wanted nothing more than our happiness and finding our place in life. Although a man of few words, I knew how happy he was for me on the day I married. He loved his grandchildren to the point that it changed him on the inside. In fact, he shares a birthday with my son, and I will always treasure that. I will remember how he loved to travel and from him I inherited the same love. He showed me the world...and because of that I became a missionary, of sorts.

At the end, I could tell Daddy goodbye with no regrets, no unfinished business - only love and gratitude. Except my mother, nobody on this earth loved me more than my father.

Goodbye Daddy, I miss you.