Saturday, November 27, 2010

What Do You Call Tradition?

Dear God...I miss really "belonging" to a church. When my son comes home from college, I wish he could happily anticipate a homecoming welcome he would invariably receive from a church family he knows, rather than only having the familiarity of the building and the assurance of a good sermon to look forward to. I know You called us to this massive church for a reason, but please help me understand why these disappointments blind-side me. Is it enough to know that this is still the cry of our hearts? Are we now strong enough to re-join such a church, even though our eyes are now wide open to how great is the potential to be wounded by embracing such a membership?

One friend says: hmmmm.... I don't have any answers.
Another: Amen, and Amen. Right there with ya.


Me again: So here is my prayer--lead us to a church, O God, where people don't get suspicious, but trust YOU when we tell them You're leading us to something they don't immediately understand. Take us someplace where the people don't bite at us out of their own shame when we happen to learn things about them they didn't really want us to know. And finally, help me to allow You to re-define my take on a "valuable church life" for my children if that is part of the point of this long time in the desert.

One friend again: I miss most the sense of community from our old church, and the traditions. Sometimes I missed it so much I found myself trying to reconnect, but having such a strong discernment that I was wrong when I tried. I know we are in the right place for my family... I think my work situation makes it so very hard for me to feel part of the community of our church... much less even try to penetrate and get involved. I was able to actually go today, and I was already grieving the fact that I can only go one more Sunday before fall back into my weekend routine again. My prayer is aligned with yours... with a request to find community within my own church throughout the week.

A third friend: I will pray with you. More than 10 years ago God led me to the congregation I am part of now. IT IS A BLESSING EVERY DAY TO BE A PART OF THEM. He will lead your family to the green pastures that will satisfy your needs and longings. Love you.
And a fourth: I am so with you! We still haven't found a place to call home. It makes me sad!

Me again: Years ago in my hometown, my testimony of church life was just like yours is now. I long for that again so much! Ans, Erin, my heart goes out to you. I know what you mean, wondering what God's after in the way church figures in the walk you and family make as you go about following Him. Sometimes it is so hard to be in that time when you know you're learning, you just don't know quite WHAT you're learning yet. For now, I have to be content to wait for the epiphany. :D


This was a Facebook conversation that basically reached into the heart of my pining for tradition and its blessings on myself and those others who respect it. I shared that pining with caring friends and with my Maker.


I've known something was afoot in this even before I had this conversation, and prayed to understand it. The first layer peeled on this spiritual onion, and the deadest layer, came in the form of a devotion I read. In that devotion, the author reflected on how great an impact it made on his young soul when he heard his WWII-era school teacher pray her Thanksgiving prayer despite having just lost her husband in the battles.

It occurred to me that my own elementary school days in the 60's were already beyond the era when teachers prayed public prayers in public schools. I did not have that "location" as a place for God to speak into my spirit in ways that would last a lifetime. I'm sure this devotion author could have constructed the same dirge I did, only about prayer in schools. I (having never experienced it) never fully understood all the "fuss" about the loss of prayer in schools other than as a territorial loss in the land of the spirit. I understand better now.

More importantly, I see that the Spirit of God simply found other venues to speak into my heart, venues to replace the one I never even suspected existed, let alone lost. Should my children lose what I once knew as the beauty of church-life, I can now rest assured that God is clever and resourceful enough to find another venue to permeate their souls with grace as well. Didn't I always know it? Yet, God sends gentle reminders when my misty eyes beg them.

Quoting the book of Job, I can now say with all the greater appreciation:

All the while my breath [is] in me, the spirit of God [is] in my nostrils; Psalm 27:3

The best "tradition" of all is simply the tradition of God finding an inroad to the human heart. This is a beginning of peace.

The Crystal Spectre Takes Mark 9 to Heart

He said to them, "Assuredly, I say to you that there are some standing here who will not taste death till they see the kingdom of God present with power."

I think of this verse differently as I stand just outside the door to that spare room--my hand still on its doorknob even. I saw that Power lonely in a dark lifeless expanse...I see it now, willingly shrunk down to the size of a human form--communing with the one who announces the Kingdom of God as a thing near to men. I see a miracle blooming--like a blossom forming on a plant that has never thrown a bud into being...such is this miracle.

And Jesus joined me just beyond that door and said, "I have reason for him to leave this room now."
And the Spirit swirls around Him, whispering, "It is a good day for a baptism."
"But where is he to be baptized?" I ask...and straightaway, I see.

And so I lead my guest to the place I was shown:

"And before the throne [there was] a sea of glass like unto crystal: and in the midst of the throne, and round about the throne, [were] four beasts full of eyes before and behind." Rev 4:6

I stop at the edge of this sea, but he moves on toward it. He takes a long glance back at me. I nod encouragingly and immediately feel foolish, so instead I encourage with solemnity. This is not like pressing a child to learn to swim--this breaks open dusky, cobweb-riddled places no human has ever explored. I simply hover in the background, as is appropriate in this venture, and he steps into the crystal sea.

The Baptism itself is engulfed in the cloud of the glory of God...so I have no words to describe it. But when the cloud lifts, I see the change it has made.

"And I saw as it were a sea of glass mingled with fire: and them that had gotten the victory over the beast, and over his image, and over his mark, [and] over the number of his name, stand on the sea of glass, having the harps of God." Rev. 15:2

And while I marveled at what I saw, others were not so sure. Fire is judgment. It has no place in the Crystal Sea. Others: The Crystal Sea has waited for the Crystal Spectre all this time. Who are we to say they should not meet again? The servant of the beast does not gain victory over the beast! Gain victory over the number of his name, which is the number of man...
...Round and round the debate turns.

And the Spirit of Christ begins to quote the One He always quotes:
"For everyone will be seasoned with fire, and every sacrifice will be seasoned with salt. Salt is good, but if the salt loses its flavor, how will you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and have peace with one another."

And the Alpha and Omega says:
"Do not forbid him, for no one who works a miracle in My name can soon afterward speak evil of Me. For he who is not against us is on our side. For whoever gives you a cup of water to drink in My name, because you belong to Christ, assuredly, I say to you, he will by no means lose his reward."

And the spirit and the bride say, "Even so, Lord Jesus, come!"

Friday, November 12, 2010

The Girl Who Loved...


There was a girl who loved a flower...

and when it bloomed,

she threw her arms wide open

and knelt before it.


The girl continued to love,

and to learn.

Until one day, she loved enough

to love a pepper plant.

She threw her arms wide open and knelt before it.

And she shared its fruit with a friend nearby.


And the girl continued to love

and to learn.

Until one day, she loved enough

to love a towering evergreen tree.

She threw her arms wide open and knelt before it.

And she shared it's branches with their pungent scent

Hanging them over her lintel

blessing all who crossed her home's threshold.


Then girl continued to love and to learn.

Until one day, she loved enough

to love a sunrise sky.

She threw her arms wide open, spun in circles and knelt before it.

And her face shone so bright when she lifted it

reflecting those pinks, golds and lavenders

That all who saw her were blessed.


The Girl continued to love and to learn.

Until one day, she loved enough

to love a universe.

She threw her arms wide open, spun in circles and knelt before it.

And she drew that universe into her very womb

for safe-keeping.

But no one saw her do it.


At the last, there was a Girl who continued to love and to learn.

Until one day, she loved enough

to love the One large enough to roll that universe up like a scroll

and stick it in His pocket.

But few were blessed.

"You can not love something so abstract. So incomprehensible...

her sanity is gone, for she loves an illusion."


But the girl just smiled.

She knew they hadn't seen the way of it...

...that first, she'd loved a flower.