Three Times

Peter was a human.

He's not a metaphorical character.

He was passionate.

He was impulsive; in thought, word and action.

I bet the other disciples either thought or said out loud sometimes, "Wait 'til Peter hears

about this," and then laughed about what they thought Peter might do.

I love him so much.

So did Jesus.

He gave room for Peter to be Peter.

He also challenged that impulsive character over and over.

Called it out.

Refined it.

Redirected it.

And even on occasion, praised it.

(I think he does the same for us...when we are listening to him.)

John 21 is one of my favorite chapters in the New Testament.

There's a lot of real stuff going on there.

It's interesting that John concludes his gospel with a story line that is so closely

woven around the "Jesus and Peter" dialogue.

John lets us know that he's there, but the real focus is "Jesus and Peter."

Peter says, "Let's go fishing"

Peter jumps out of the boat when John notices Jesus on the shoreline.

Peter pulls the net full of fish ashore so Jesus can make breakfast.

Peter has an intense conversation with Jesus after breakfast.

Peter is told about his martyrdom.

Peter tries to deflect the conversation to John.

It's a lot to take in.

I want to touch on the one general thought that is reaching out to me today.

Three times..."Do you love me?"

It feels like Peter is fairly annoyed with the process.

And when I've read this before I think I have coupled Jesus responses to communicate

something like, "well...if you really do love me, then feed, tend or take care of others."

As though doing these things would prove Peter's love for him.

However, like I mentioned earlier, Peter was always ready to act.

When reading this passage most recently I wondered if that was really what Jesus 

was getting to.

I'm thinking that it may be actually almost the opposite.  

I think today that what I hear Jesus saying is this, "LOVE ME!"  

Full stop...and then...

It is the only way that you will ever be able to do any of the things you'll need to do in 

your life.  It will all flow out of your love for me.  If you don't LOVE ME...If you can't 

live in me and that love, and I live in you, bringing you strength and power 

through my love, you'll never be able to feed sheep or completely follow me

because honestly...it's humanly impossible.

It's his love for us, and in us, and our love for him that will sustain us.

It will keep us focused and able in whatever is before us.

Draw us out.

Draw others in.

At beginning and end.

There's no other way.

Holding Space

At a meeting last week.

I watched a friend facilitate something worth sharing.

We were together looking ahead at the decision to select a leader.

It wasn't for a Fortune 500 company.

It wasn't within a thriving metropolis.

Wasn't really even a big village.

The decision wouldn't be pushed out to media outlets.

Still, it was an extraordinary moment for me to witness.

Something I will never forget.

It went like this...

A while back there was a leader who fell into a difficult season of life.

Their health in several ways, was depleted.

And so he stepped down, and another was appointed.

But although the former stepped down, they didn't step away.

And the people who had followed him wouldn't let him go, during this difficult season.

Not even the one who had replaced him.

They practiced love and community like we talk about it being practiced,

but don't always see.

Then, a bit more than two years later, the other ran into their own very difficult season.

And they had to step down.  

During that time, the first had been able to find their footing again.

And because he had stayed connected; with everyone,

Because they shared love and hope and affirmation with each other,

It seemed completely appropriate to the selection team to reach out to the one

who had stepped away earlier.

Not as a default, but as a joyous moving forward for everybody involved.

As though there may have been a plan in motion all along.

As though a story was being written and this selection was the next chapter in that story;

just now revealed.

Oh.....and I should say that on the selection team there was someone who 

served alongside each of those past chosen leaders.  

Someone who saw themselves in that role of support to each, and although they had the training and 

experience to offer themselves as a candidate, they instead held space for those mentioned above, throughout the process.

Extraordinary.

This idea of holding space for others.

Human beings are worth more than being cast aside and forgotten when they stumble or struggle.

In the practice of true community we will have the opportunity to witness the whole of the story.

If we stay with it through the rough parts.

It's a beautiful thing to see.

It's even a bit miraculous.

The Christmas Gift

"He found himself standing on the corner of life."

That was the scene-setting phrase a teacher-friend in Poland used while telling the story of someone whose life had spiraled downward towards a very painful precipice.

The story didn't end there.

Things actually got better from there.

The view from a place of desperation can also be a place of discovery.

It worked out that way for Ebenezer Scrooge.

It worked out that way for George Bailey.

Coming to the end of ourselves can open the door for someone else to intervene on our behalf.

When we are lost.

When we can not find a way through.

When we are suffering.

We're really more fragile than we look.

Even when we're physically strong.

Or financially strong.

Or at the peak of our career.

We can break.

And then, as another friend of mine likes to say,

                                             "For this, we have Jesus."

A few days ago, Dan heard that his father had to be taken to the hospital.

It was only a short time ago that the family was all together in a much more

celebrative environment.  

But yesterday the family was gathering again.

Seeking peace and leaning on each other.  

Holding hands together.

Through tears.

                       "For this, we have Jesus."

She texted us a couple weeks ago to let us know that doctors had discovered

something concerning.

Days went by in waiting.

Finally some news that wasn't altogether joyous, but still hopeful.

Yet, in the middle of that tension too, I was reminded,

                                                       "For this, we have Jesus."

I can't not say it.

Even though it sounds so trite....still...

This is the message of the season.

God knows us in spite of all of our disguises.

In spite of our veneer.

In spite of our earthly successes.

He knew that we would need more.

He knew that we need his presence.

To catch us when we fall.

To show us a new way to see life.

                                    "For this...he brought to us....Jesus."

                                                                   

Courage To Be Kind

I think that sometimes being loud, 

                                       even arrogant,

              is mistaken for being bold.

Sometimes bold is loud.

But sometimes bold is quiet.

Even, very quiet.

Sometimes bold doesn't say anything at all.

Sometimes the boldest thing is to love; to apply grace or even just kindness.

And to go un-noticed in the process.

I don't feel like I do this well, 

but I've known some who were able to blend kindness and boldness.

Someone who I have held in respect for many years passed away last week.

He spoke both with passion and gentleness.

When he talked about our blindspots as people of faith in Jesus,

                                        there were times he sounded very critical.

When he spoke about his love of Jesus, or Jesus' love for him, his voice could break;

overwhelmed by the grace poured out...upon someone like himself.

He could also make us laugh...a lot.

He was the first "celebrity Christian" I ever met.

And he took time on a few occasions to have discourse with me.

Once, when I was only twenty, I had a one-on-one conversation with him.  

Later on, he responded to some questions I had via snail-mail.

I was a new believer in Jesus and he was kind to me. 

In my ignorance...about...much. 

He had courage to speak to the church about its shortcomings.

He also saw places to offer grace to the church.

He wasn't always appreciated for his words or position on things.

But mostly I felt he was just being honest about helping someone who he thought needed a measure of kindness; an individual or an entire country.

And he asked if we could be the people who just may be able to bring it to them.

He hoped and believed that we could and would do better with more knowledge, transparency and commitment.

Somehow, I believe these thoughts above fit into a portion of scripture that I've been chewing on.

There's a somewhat startling question that Paul asks in his letter to the Romans.

In Chapter two, verse four, he's discussing our tendency to look down on others in judgement, while ignoring the kindnesses that God has poured out on us, believing they would lead to our repentance.  As in...

How do we miss all the kind ways he has been patient with us and return that gesture with impatience directed to others?

It's a pretty significant understanding; the idea that God's kindness is his plan to bring us to repentance.

Now, I'm sure that God's plan has many dimensions to it, as he reaches into all of our hearts to draw us towards himself.  

He knows exactly how each of us are working through the messes in our lives.  

He knows our individual points of pride and resistance.  

He knows the places we have pain and broken-ness.

But I'm captivated by the idea that something as simple as "kindness" would draw us towards Jesus AND that we are expected to pass that simple part of "faith in action" on to others.

I wonder what that would look like in my world...

At the convenience store.

Or on the phone with tele-marketers.

Or while I'm driving through traffic.

When I'm in a hurry.

Or frustrated about all the above.

I looked up the word in the original Greek.  

Kindness = xrēstótēs.

It appears 10 times in the New Testament.

Here are some of the ideas related to it: 

"A Spirit-produced goodness which meets the need and avoids human harshness (cruelty)

...Meeting real needs, in God's way, in His timing."

Not harsh.

Not cruel.

Meeting needs.

In his timing.

Spirit-produced.

It is brave. 

It is true.

It comes from Jesus.

Even when you don't feel like it.

                                        The courage to be kind.

Kept

I have a friend who would say, 

"I know He's real, 'cause He kept me...All these years, He kept me."

He would cup his hands in front of his great, big self and show me how that felt to him; sometimes smiling, sometimes eyes full of tears.  

His story is difficult.

And as long as I have known him, he has struggled in the certainty of his own testimony.

(There's probably moments that we all do.)

He has often had to fight within himself to regain it.

On those days, he felt unprotected.

Without a shield.

Without covering.

Wondering why things happened as they did.

Soul-crushing things.

Without someone he could count on... to keep watch over him.

Someone...to cover his back.

And the pain of that vulnerability, sometimes rolled into a great fear.

I've been reading through the opening of the Genesis story and that's the issue I'm seeing is the weightiest concern of the couple who find themselves there.

God had told them not to eat of the one tree or they would die.

Which is interesting to me because they had no knowledge of what it meant to die.

At least from an experiential perspective.  

They'd never been to a memorial service.

I remember as a kid...maybe 10 years old trying to process what death meant, not coming from a home of faith, it was staggering; even overwhelming to consider.

I saw the gray-skinned body of my Grandpa, lying in an ornately designed coffin.

Twas the first time I recall seeing what "death" looked like...in a person...and it was gray.

I faintly remember a conversation with my mom after that.  

There was a panic that ran through me....Knowing that one day I would turn to call for her, reach out for her and she would not be there to respond.

And I cried about it.  For a good while I think.

Death's meaning was just beginning to find its place in my thinking because it was in the news.

People talked about it.  

They went to things called funerals to observe it.  

Wars created lots of it.

But in Genesis, they really didn't have any of that to view the concept from, and maybe that's why when you read through the passage, its odd to see that it wasn't death that made them afraid.

It was actually nakedness that made them hide.

"I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid."

How weird is that?

And I kept looking through that passage.  Reading it over and over.

The Creator's response is, "Who told you that you were naked?" 

Almost as though "naked" was a word that didn't fit in his vocabulary.

Otherwise, he may have said something like, 

"Yes, you are naked and how objectionable that is to me, at least you found something to cover up with, it helps cover your hideous nakedness."

He doesn't address any of that at all.  But then, why would he?  

He made those bodies, in His own image.

So, after the couple explains the process of their poor decision-making, he turns to the serpent and pronounces judgement upon him.

But let's go back to the dialogue about being naked for a moment.

The Hebrew word appears ten times in the OT.  Seven times apart from this passage.

(Once in Deuteronomy and six in Ezekiel.)

In each instance it either refers to a person or the nation of Israel, not so much as unclothed, but as being unprotected.  In fact the root of the word means to be exposed.  

Additionally, in four of those verses the phrase, "naked and bare," appears.  

Enhancing the idea that there are two different ideas being presented.

God didn't see Adam and Eve's lack of clothing as a problem.  In fact they didn't either until after the conversation with the serpent.

Being exposed is a different matter. 

It's an internal issue, an internal anxiety; the sense of being uncared for or unprotected.

There are people in my life that I believe that I would do all I can to care for their safety.  

It would hurt me deeply if they questioned that commitment.  

I would feel ashamed if I didn't protect them.

Not because I have been contractually obligated but because I love them.

In one short dialogue the serpent convinced the only two people on earth that the one who made them in love, and beauty could not be trusted to keep their best future in his hands and they would be defenseless against everything to come.  So, fear and mistrust were born, and they hid.

They no longer felt kept.

So many of us are still trying to find the courage to trust that God today.  We fashion our lives around pursuance of things that seem to provide stability.  Things that outwardly speak of strength and security.

In the end it's all just...fig leaves.

However, inwardly what we still really need is a simple trust 

                                                              that He is a good, good God,

                                                                               And that He is for us, like no other can or ever will be.

Hope's Refrain

"...Be ready at any time to give a quiet and reverent answer to anyone who wants a reason for the hope that you have within you." - I Peter 3:15

She keeps her head high

Then bows, kissing the ground 

When she enters the room 

Spirits rise, without a sound

Holding onto our hands

Walks us through the divide

Draws us into her heart 

Pushing past, the pull of the tide

Hope laughs

And she cries

Hope wears no rags

That weigh her down

No stains; no disguise

Hope breathes

Hope calls

Hope lives

Hope stands inside and 

Tears down the walls

She’s never too young

She never grows old

She always remembers

The truth she was told

Can rescue your mind

From that dark, empty place

Leaves shame in the sea

Her sister is Grace

Hope laughs

And she cries

Hope wears no rags

That weigh her down

No stains; no disguise

Hope breathes

Hope calls

Hope lives

Hope stands inside and 

Tears down the walls

Us and Them

We need to be careful.

Of all the places that we draw lines.

Between one-another.

I wish we felt the pull and the pain.

The ache.

The strain.

I wish we heard the ripping noise; when we tore our lives away from 

someone else, for whatever reason.

I wish that we could see how our separation hurt.

Not just their hurt, but how it may impact us as well.

In the story it is recorded as a hopeful "we"....not... "us and them."

                 Let them be one, even as we are one.

We as reconcilers.

We as peacemakers.

We as ambassadors of this coming together, 

of this Shalom.

Instead, too often we see the distance of our differences.

And build a home there,

in the comfort zone of only those like us.

Not with them.

And their ideas.  

And ways.  

And appearance.

Them, on the outside of our peace.

I get it.  

I know that there are some we must leave there.

Because of a history of struggle that we cannot bridge with our presence.

They are few. 

He knows their names, 

and will apply his grace to each of us,

 how and where it's needed.

But for the many others.

Who will go?  

To extend a hand, an invitation to them.

How about,

                         Here we are, send us.