One day a couple of angels were out walking the Time Line. (Hey, it's my blog --- just go with it, okay?) As angels usually do not need to worry about physical exercise, they were just taking a leisurely stroll, keeping their eyes peeled for any treasures they might find along the way.
As they were ambling through the Fifties, they spotted a canister containing film.
Early this morning, while gathering her thoughts, Churchyard Chick accidentally wandered onto the slaughtering floor of Pilgrim’s Pride.
Her feathers had become ruffled, and she became confused and disoriented as she tried to walk the path she had chosen for the day. Having stumbled over some inscribed garden stones dropped by careless travelers, she began to slide backwards on the slope that led to “Pride” (code for the slaughterhouse).
She had been warned many, many times about allowing herself to become a victim of those garden stones on the pathway, the ones inscribed with well-meaning words (that somehow just end up sounding mean). She had steeled herself with that old saying about others not being able to make you feel inferior without your permission. (Did that come from Oprah? She couldn’t remember.) I guess that was good head knowledge, but it just couldn’t convince the heart.
Once she slid onto the slaughtering floor, she encountered the instruments of Pride that sought to bring her zig-zag journey to a quick end. First she had to escape one called Self-Importance. Then she barely scooted away from another labeled Vindication. Her final maneuver was to run as quickly as her little chicken legs would carry her away from the chopping block named Self-Interest.
Fortunately, the chick was able to escape from Pilgrim’s Pride this time, but she has much to learn. Hopefully, she will continue her journey without tripping on those pesky garden stones inscribed with the words and actions of others. Perhaps she will focus on the example of the One she claims to be following.
If she watches, the Good Shepherd will show her that the only important thing in life on earth is what is vital to the soul. Everything else is just stuff we do while we are waiting to fly away. If she remains focused on his directive to “make disciples”, rather than on her own feathers, maybe they won’t get so ruffled.
Dancing with the Stars. I do enjoy that show! I love the glamour, the judges, and the way the pro’s make the celebs look good. It must have been a Monday or a Tuesday when I had my dream . . .
I was at an event where there was dancing. A dark-haired, handsome young man approached and asked me to dance. As he was leading me so effortlessly around the dance floor, I made a remark to which I expected no response. He surprised me by looking directly at me and saying, “I would like to hear more about that.”
Stunned, I exclaimed, “Really?! That would be great.” I felt that he was genuinely interested in my thoughts.
He said yes and continued to lead me around the floor. I felt light as a feather. (I recall a time when I was a young teacher and the teachers were the cheerleaders at a pep rally. The basketball coach, who was very tall and strong, lifted me up to sit on his shoulders as if I were a rag doll. That’s how light I felt in my dream, in contrast to the heaviness of depression I had been experiencing the last few days.) My “dream” dance partner and I moved as a unit, even though I was actually following every step under his firm, expert guidance and control. He was making me look good.
When I woke up, I recalled the dream vividly, and it made me smile. Later that day, “something” told me: That was the Holy Spirit. Well, that was startling, yet it made sense to me. “So,” I thought, “maybe that’s what it means to be ‘led by the spirit’.”
Not following behind, trying to keep up or step in his footsteps, but “following” as in dancing, as a unit, in sync, having his attention and interest, being willingly guided and controlled, feeling light as a feather. Gliding smoothly. Yielding myself to his lead.
That was a few weeks ago, and since then, that image has come to mind on several occasions and encouraged me. It has prompted me to think, “Let him lead.” In a new and different way. Not trudging along behind, but in his arms. “Abiding.” That makes me smile, lighten up, and relax a bit.
God uses “teachable moments”, doesn’t he? He reaches us where we are and uses our interests to give us new insights. Obviously, this analogy would not work for everyone. But it works for me.
DWTS has taken on a new meaning: Dancing with the Spirit!
“Honor thy father and thy mother, that thy days may be long upon the earth” (Exodus 20:12).
Does this mean so they won’t follow through on their urge to strangle us with their bare hands on so many occasions? Maybe.
Or act upon our oft-repeated, “My mother would kill me if she knew”? Probably.
I am reminded of Bill Cosby’s threat: “I brought you into this world; I can take you out.”
This is the weekend set aside to honor our mothers.
The ones who did not (yet) kill us. Instead, they scolded us, punished us, “trained” us, gave us “the look,” put us in our place, forbade us to go certain places with certain people and do certain things which we so desperately wanted to do, and pretty much cramped our style for so many years.
They cried privately when we said (or made it known by deed), “I hate you!”
And they forgave us.
The last frontier of forgiveness this side of heaven is a mother. God help us if we ever cross the line where even a mother’s love can’t reach.
So . . . whatever your relationship with your mother . . . honor her with a thank you. If you are reading this, she has spared you. And I would venture to say, she is thinking of you with love . . . the First Corinthians Thirteen kind of love that “believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”
On Easter Sunday, this was the cross I saw:
The very next day, the cross looked like this:
Wow! What a downer, right? The cross, stripped of its glorious Easter finery? Just standing there . . . bare . . . taken out of the sanctuary and placed in temporary storage in the “media room.”
But wait . . . look again . . . what is right there on the table behind it? Brochures full of info on various ways the church reaches out. See . . . if you look closely, you can see the edge of the map with several mission fields pinpointed. And, just out of the picture, is where a large box usually sits as a collection spot for clothing and other goods for those in need in the community. This room is filled with ways we can follow Jesus’ command to “love one another” and his directive to “feed my sheep.”
So, on second thought, without its flowery embellishments (which, indeed, lift our spirits and renew our souls), the bare cross is very much at home amidst the struggles and challenges and issues of the real world. This is the everyday cross, the workaday cross, the cross Jesus asked us to “take up” as we follow him.
This is Monday’s cross.
Today is April Fools Day. Perhaps that is why the following question keeps coming to mind: Where did Jesus get his Easter clothes?
Only a foolish person would focus on such a trivial detail in light of the miraculous, glorious, supernatural event of the resurrection. Right? But I have to admit that such trivia does come to my mind from time to time. He had been wrapped in a burial cloth, but he was wearing a robe when he appeared to Mary. So . . . ?
Also, where was Jesus on Monday? He made several appearances on Sunday, but what did he do the rest of the week? I can’t help wondering where he went and what he did until he once again appeared to the disciples the following Sunday. Again . . . ?
I guess there is much I just can’t know. John addresses such foolishness when he says in verses 30-31 of Chapter 20, “Jesus did many other miraculous signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name.”
Jesus himself had just said to Thomas, “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:29).
And then, just so that fools like me would finally “get it,” John reiterates in verse 25 of Chapter 21, “Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.”
Wow! Okay, there are numerous things that we can’t ever know. But what we do know is more than enough! (Mark Twain once said that it was not the things that he didn’t understand about the Bible that worried him; it was the things that he did understand that bothered him the most.)
Luke, who identifies his sources as “eyewitnesses” (1:2), records Jesus’ words to those with whom he walked to Emmaus, “How foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken!” (Luke 24:25).
Okay, on this April Fools Day, I will not spend time foolishly belaboring what I don’t know or what I can’t understand. Instead, I will choose to focus on what I do know in my heart to be true.
Christ has died. Christ has risen. Christ will come again!
Thanks be to God!
(Just one more thought: I wonder whether Jesus ever wonders where we are Monday through Saturday. Just sayin’)
On Saturday the chief priests and Pharisees were worried. They went to Pilate for help in securing Jesus’ tomb, and he accommodated them. They went to the tomb, put a seal on it, and posted Roman soldiers to guard it. All was silent for a while.
The silence of Saturday speaks to the soul of everyone who has ever been disappointed, disillusioned, or desperate. “Where is God?!” It seems that he has disappeared. Death and despair oppress the spirit, making the heart heavy and the steps slow. The stone has been set in place, sealed, and secured.
All seems lost and hopeless. We continue to do the routine tasks and fulfill our obligations, but our heart is not in it. The days are long, as I imagine that silent Saturday so long ago was an unusually long one for Jesus’ followers.
But for today’s believer, the silence of that Saturday should also speak volumes about the nature of God. He is always there. He has a plan. He works in his own time.
Sometimes we just have to wait.
“I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning” (Psalm 130:5-6).
Churchyard Chick, in her zig-zag ramblings, sometimes “overhears” things. I wouldn’t necessarily say she eavesdrops; that would be rude, which is so unlike her. It’s just that she stays “tuned in” just in case some interesting little kernel should come her way. Today, for example, the Fifth Friday Book Club conversation:
” . . . so that wraps up our discussion. Who has a recommendation for our next book?”
“I have one. It’s called The Gospel of Matthew. Everyone’s talking about it. In fact, it is the first of a series.”
“Well, give us a synopsis, and we’ll think about it.”
“Okay, it’s about this man Jesus . . . he is born of a virgin, and . . .”
“Wait! What did you say?”
“Yes, that’s right . . . born of a virgin. But wait till you hear the rest! He heals and teaches and feeds five thousand people with just five loaves and two fishes. He even walks on water! He becomes very popular, which totally upsets this group of religious leaders called the Pharisees, so they plot to kill him. He is betrayed by one of his own followers, and then, on a Friday they . . .”
“Wait! Don’t spoil it for us. This sounds like something we might want to put on our reading list.”
“Oh, good! I’m so excited. You just won’t even believe what happens! There’s such a surprise ending!”
Churchyard Chick smiles (in her heart of course). She has already read the entire series, and she knows that the “ending” is just the beginning!
She continues on her way, for she has eggs to boil.
“What does ‘maundy’ mean?” I had asked in years past.
“Holy” was the answer, and that was as far as I had ever investigated until recently. I don’t know why I had never looked it up for myself. Shame on me!
A simple trip to the dictionary informed me that “maundy” is from the Latin and means “mandate” or “command.” In connection with Jesus’ sharing the Passover meal with his disciples, it refers to what he said to them after he had washed their feet. “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another” (John 13:34).
John reports that Jesus went on to say, “You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you . . . This is my command: Love each other” (John 15:14-15 & 17).
Friends! Friends of Jesus! What greater honor than to be called his friend?
And then, John goes on to pass along words from Jesus’ lips that should be dear to every Christian’s heart, as he prays for all believers. “My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me . . . May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me” (John 17:20-23). My trusty NIV note tells me an awesome thing: “All future believers are included in this prayer.”
Wow! That blows me away! Jesus was praying for us that night. The night he wants us to always remember. Maundy Thursday. The night he commanded us to love one another. How could we ever forget?
And yet, sometimes we do.
“This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19).
