the evils of indifference

I looked up from my computer to see a man, sitting across from his misshapen wife, gazing briefly at the Sunshine Girl in the Edmonton Sun. I observed his eyes moving down the bikini clad women and then to the description found at the bottom. Trivial words that describe nothing of the reality of the woman; nothing but what ageing married men worry that they missed in their earlier days. How long is too long to gaze at the Sunshine Girl? How long does it take for one to doubt the depth of history and the fashioning of two lives that have been joined as one? How long does it take for the invasion of something false to make a significant mark on the soul? His purview ends and he turns the page; he mentions nothing to his wife.

He moves back to the news headline that declares another fantasy: Hero dies saving child. This would seem good to mention; it would never be questioned by the wife – may even be admired if talked about it. Will he? Nope – he instead gives a brief editorial comment about something so minimal and safe when compared to the heroic effort: reducing the speed limits in the residential areas of Edmonton to 40kmh. Why did he not bring up the hero? The Hero story was on the same page! Was it because he doubted the fibre of his character? Did it bring up a failure of the past?

He put the paper down to talk to his wife as she eats a fresh and gooey icing covered lemon treat. He has a fork as well. They share with muffled mouths filled with the lemony goodness and talk about the appetite of one of their ailing fathers. They both smile at each other. This gaze has depth and history and joy.  There is much more to them than my assumptions and questions.

As Judite scored on me yet again [insert exasperated and amazed tone] in her air-hockey dominance, a young girl came excitedly into the ‘beach’ followed by her father pushing what looked like an industrial floor washing machine with a laptop attached to the top. This girl has had her heart hanging against her stomach for some 20 months. She is O type and is awaiting a real heart to replace her miraculous-ish [miraculous is still, without doubt, the real thing] Berlin heart.

As the ‘beach’ closed to play, it became a lunch buffet that some generous person donates every second Thursday – pizzas and onion rings and chicken strips and other goodies! The nurses and care workers turn up the music and with big smiles and a few dance moves later, the girl with the Berlin heart is moving excitedly on her Dad’s lap! So much so that he lifts her off his lap to the ground! 20 months and waiting and she still has the guts and desire to dance; all the while her heart hanging out of the bottom of her shirt and attached to a cart with a computer on top! Seriously – dancing?!

After they left another couple sat down with their 10 month old son who is in for treatment of an unknown lung condition that isn’t genetic and yet his two sisters also have a lung condition – although theirs is different. The boy smiled and whined and ate and laughed. The parents shared a bit of their story as they wondered allowed with confusion; as they were also very thankful for this strange rhythm and intimate knowledge of the working of the insides of this amazing Hospital.

The Stollery Children’s Hospital is a work that is eager and loving and life-giving and vibrant. How else could a 5 year old girl live so freely with her heart on her stomach?!

I came across a confusing poem that has been growing on me.  It is by one of those poets that are touted as one of the greats but are really hard to read and understand. W.B. Yeats wrote ‘The Cold Heaven’ and it made it’s way into a book I have been reading called Getting To Maybe: How the World Is Changed. Since it is in a book I am reading and a book that I like, then the poem must be good, right?

Well here is the poem:

Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting Heaven

That seemed as though ice burned and was but more ice,

And thereupon imagination and heart were driven

So wild that every casual thought of that and this

Vanished, and left but memories, that should be out of season

With the hot blood of youth, of love crossed long ago;

And I took all the blame out of all sense and reason,

Until I cried and trembled and rocked to and fro,

Riddled with light. Ah! When the ghost begins to quicken,

Confusion of the death-bed over, is it sent

Out naked on the roads, as the books say, and stricken

By the injustice of the skies punishment?

As I read it over a number of times my confusion and lack of literary skills became very obvious to me. Yet I am drawn to these words – I need to know what they mean. I am stirred by a few of the phrases; I sense an honest hope that separates itself from wishful thinking hope. There will be and always is a distinct turn of events that will prevail. Even if we are weighed down with the toil and trudging of implementing God’s kingdom plan of transfiguring the world, there is a settling of the confusion. ‘Riddled with light’ is a tangible hope, an aggressive hope; a hope that has overcome the laws of spiritual inertia to move me. … While these words of mine, struggling to be poetic, are quite melodramatic, I won’t erase them. I believe them.

In the struggle against the depraved leaders of injustice in the world, we will find a ‘cold heaven’ – that cold heaven is better than none!

Just finished reading a book of poems by an amazing author.  Reading them has instilled in me, once again, the truth of the great quote by PB Shelly – “Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects as if they were not familiar.”  Reading these poems has dared me to follow in the footsteps of a friend who told me that after hearing these poems by the aforementioned amazing author, he looks at the world from a poetic perspective.

So I dare you.

Look at the world; see the unveiling that happens when our eyes ‘see’ again.  If you need to, ask Jesus for some mud made with His spittle.

Write.  Play.  Create.  Encourage everyone to do the same: child-like, safe, community.  Indifference is obliterated.  It’s void is defined.

Don Miller is quite the challenging writer.  He has taken a lot of heat lately by the evangelical community.  Not sure why!  He is inviting us to pay attention to God’s active presence in our life.  How can that be something to cause the venom and vilification that it does?  I think people are scared of writing a good story with their lives and choose to live with noses buried in doctrinal hair-splitting and joyful self-righting of their lives.  I would rather be pushed to follow Christ than be self-righteous about how we SHOULD follow Christ!

Check out Don Miller’s video that addresses this question: Are you living a great story with your life?

Are you living a great story with your life? from Donald Miller on Vimeo.

You can get the book here: http://www.amazon.com/Million-Miles-Thousand-Years-Learned/dp/1400202981/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1276717752&sr=1-1

There is something really quite sneaky about Jesus’ parable of a man finding treasure in a field. I am struck by the whole ‘finding and then covering it up again’ thing. What do you make of that? Not letting anyone in on it; not phoning friends and neighbors like the lost coin or sheep. What lesson are we to learn from this? Be sneaky? Be secretive? Hide things? Is there a lesson to be learned?

You know, I don’t think Jesus is giving us a lesson here. There is simply an insane difference between this world and the one that has come in Christ. God desires that we become very aware of our indifference to the initiative of His kingdom; that we notice the extravagant value of His kingdom among us; that we become aware of the immense momentum of God’s kingdom among us.

Here is an amazing story that comes from the strangest of places. This story points out the treasure, that is, the immensity of His kingdom and the active initiative of His intentions:

“I’ve been an avid reader of your Funnies for years now and felt I needed to say that just now, as our city lies crumpled around us, how very precious those Funnies are. My family are one of the lucky ones – we haven’t lost any friends or family in the quake. My husband and 14-year-old son have been almost non-stop digging – trying to remove the horrid liquefaction from pathways and houses. Meanwhile I’ve taken our other children to a drop-in centre where we distribute fresh water and meals to the local community, as well as provide an ear or a shoulder. When we get home in the evenings, we check on the news updates for the city. Then, once children are bedded, it’s time for us to gather our thoughts together. Mikey’s Funnies plays a big part in this and is helping me to glimpse at ‘normal’ life. Please keep up the great work, Mikey, and prayers for Christchurch are hugely needed right now. Blessings, Paula”

This was my waking read this morning as I checked my email for Mikies Funnies!

Oh – and here is the funny that went along with it:

An elderly Floridian called 911 on her cell phone to report that her car has been broken into. She is hysterical as she explains her situation to the dispatcher: “They’ve stolen the stereo, the steering wheel, the brake pedal and even the accelerator!” she cried.

The dispatcher said, “Stay calm. An officer is on the way.”
A few minutes later, the officer radios in: “Disregard,” he says. “She got in the back seat by  mistake.”

Faith Restored: a Feast

This detour has made me hungry, thirsty. Its pangs are deeper than the temporal of my intestines; no, my soul is hungry, weak, tired and strained.

God’s rescue of forgiveness has birthed me anew … but I am in need.

… take – eat

… take – drink

Words spoken lead me to the cross – a cross that split history … my history.

My body … for you.

My blood … for you.

Real grace – active restorative grace!

Eternity once again expands in the simple mystery of this feast of victory.

Faith Falters; Forgiveness Falls

I awake choking on the phlegm of drowsiness.  It shocks me as the confusion of my surroundings make it plain that I don’t have any idea where I am. All I know is that my last memory was a real and substantive satisfaction and now I recognize nothing …

Was it all a dream? Did I make it all up?

The resonating song of creation, nothing?

The waters of promise? The wind of faith?

The rescue? The relationship with the One who knows every need?

The certainty of eternal love that gave me new eyes to see beyond me?

Is it all gone, all my created design?

Where am I? What are those sounds?

• How long have I ignored those genuine requests?
• How long have I missed that invitation to rest?
• How long has it been since I washed?
• Why are those eyes so angry?
• What are these roadblocks?
• Why won’t these haunting images end?
• The bombardment of thoughts and feelings …
• These names I call myself … AAHHHH!

As questions bombard me, it becomes overwhelmingly obvious that the clawing, piercing dark has ambushed me.

But in that very moment I hear a voice that is very different than all those questions.  The voice is a voice I know … a voice that resounds in my spirit … a voice that echoes … the echo is creation and rescue and eternity …

It is an echo that doesn’t diminish but grows stronger until suddenly the black residue bursts open and a nail pierced hand raises me with a word – a single word alone – forgiven!

Faith’s Directions

As His rescue and love and provision ebb and flow at the dawn of all days, I recognize an expansion of what this is all about.

There are directives, directions, destinations, determinations.

It is obvious that my life is about more than me!

As God speaks, a substantial simplicity echoes.  It is beyond my sight, ears and knowing but as God speaks, I know!

All of who I am is turning toward God.  All of me is inspired; all of me – body, soul, mind and spirit – turning toward God.  As I hear Him, see Him, know Him a love is conceived.

In that love I have a love that is different from all other things that I have struggled to love before … this is bigger; beyond what I have to love with … It is something that is unknowable that enters me.

All other notions, objects, expressions, desire … they all fail; falter when I turn and strangely choose to exchange God’s love for them!

And more than that, this love changes, rebirths, recreates all other loves.

I look at my wife and see a wealth of opportunity to honor and cherish and love her.

I look at my family with eyes that see instead of blind ignorance.

I look at my parents with eyes that see beyond the frustrations and hurts and losses and something moves me to love them and esteem them.

I look at my neighbor with eyes that care instead of competing.

I look at those around me and I am stirred to defend them and serve them and know them as God knows them.

This faith-filled prayer life that began in grace imbibed waters, waters of release from the clawing black, has now begun a journey partnered with eternity …

I am so alive!

Faith’s Life in Prayer

The powerful love that creates and rescues and saves has led me to His side – no longer only a creating smile, a swirling, a blackened face, a brilliant light or a mighty breath.  Something very alive is now part of me.

That love is the Father and His brilliance is a holiness, a power that expands from heaven to earth.

An expansion of purpose and direction filled with intense momentum. That purpose: deep, immensely, even infinitely deep.  It inspires, it energizes, it pulses with eternity!  The direction: certain. The momentum: unstoppable!

Yet as heaven expands to earth with deep purpose and unstoppable movement, the hunger and thirst of my minute being does not go unnoticed.  I am not a waste of the Father’s time; I am not a pesky annoyance that is tangent to the Father’s purpose.

He simply, easily and with immense joy provides my needs, our needs, all needs.

And not just shoes and toothpaste and milk: He knows US; our Father knows the deeper needs; the deepest needs.

He knows  how that dark sharp grip of sin lurks and ambushes … He knows how grace releases, breaks that grip to put jump in our step and life in our words and fullness in our relationships; He knows how to end the deceptive voices and shine light on the hollow form of empty promises that hail from those dark places …

This life of real, honest relationship grows and pulsates with life.  His glory, His majesty is known … more and more and more into eternity!