First Advent Candle - Hope

Hope is a wonderful thing.  Hope sees beyond what is and looks to what could be.  Hope holds the promise of something that feels distant and yet so close.  Hope is the foundation of the human heart, for it is in Hope we see our future, which springs from our past.  And it is with that same Hope I offer you this, the first Advent candle of 2015.

I wasn't raised in a liturgical setting.  In fact, you might say I was long an anti-liturgy person.  Through the years, and due to deeper exposure to the meaning of the liturgy, I've come to embrace and enjoy them to a far greater extent.  Advent is a favorite because it brings focus on what I often call the "first hinge for the door".  It's the beginning of the human side of my Divine Brother and I don't want to take it lightly.

I could write about many aspects of this season (and I've done so in the past on this blog), but I'm choosing to keep things simple this time around.  I just want to light the four candles of Advent for what they mean and breathe in the thought of Hope that descended on Earth so long ago.

May your own journey on the Crooked Path find you awash in the Hope of a newborn baby in a shabby town two millenia ago.  For that root of Hope is so very important to what lies ahead.

Thanksgiving Re-Post (from March 2011)

And David said, "Is there still anyone left of the house of Saul, that I may show him kindness for Jonathan's sake?" Now there was a servant of the house of Saul whose name was Ziba, and they called him to David. And the king said to him, "Are you Ziba?" And he said, "I am your servant." And the king said, "Is there not still someone of the house of Saul, that I may show the kindness of God to him?" Ziba said to the king, "There is still a son of Jonathan; he is crippled in his feet." 

Then the king called Ziba, Saul's servant, and said to him, "All that belonged to Saul and to all his house I have given to your master's grandson. And you and your sons and your servants shall till the land for him and shall bring in the produce, that your master's grandson may have bread to eat. But Mephibosheth your master's grandson shall always eat at my table." Now Ziba had fifteen sons and twenty servants. Then Ziba said to the king, "According to all that my lord the king commands his servant, so will your servant do." So Mephibosheth ate at David's table, like one of the king's sons. And Mephibosheth had a young son, whose name was Mica. And all who lived in Ziba's house became Mephibosheth's servants. So Mephibosheth lived in Jerusalem, for he ate always at the king's table. Now he was lame in both his feet. (2 Samuel 9:1-3 and 9-13, NASB)

He was living, from all appearances, in hiding. From an early age, he had known life on the run. He was a man out of place, a man perhaps filled with thoughts of what might have been. And those "might have been" thoughts had many variations. Not only was he the last surviving member of a royal line long since defunct, his nurse had dropped him during the first escape and both his feet were crippled as a result. If only things had been different ...

When I listened to this particular passage recently, I found I had to back up and play it again. It only spans thirteen verses, so it only played for about two and a half minutes. But the story found a spot in my mind that I just couldn't shake either that day during my drive home or in the time since. In a crystal clear reflection of the generosity of God, David asks the question, "Who can I show kindness to for the sake of me dear friend Jonathan?" The answer? A young, lame man by the name of Mephibosheth ... Jonathan's son.

The story tells of the servant (Ziba) who happened to work for Saul and Jonathan in former times. Somebody knows his history and he finds himself in front of King David. Heaven knows what might have gone through the man's mind when he was first summoned, but I've no doubt he was relieved to hear David was only after information ... and information was something Ziba had on this particular subject.

Now, turn your thoughts to Mephibosheth. We don't know much about his life, other than where he was living and how he got there. And, of course, we know that he was crippled in both his feet. By whatever means, he is brought to the very same King David as was Ziba and he is prepared to be very contrite. Then, the story takes its turn. David, a man of considerable passion and a strong love for Jonathan, tells Mephibosheth that he doesn't ever have to worry about anything for the rest of his life. He has, by royal edict, restored possessions, granted servants, and given him a seat with the princes of Israel. Mephibosheth will now and forever more take all his meals at the king's table.

How much like our gracious and loving Father this story is. God has granted me, a man of similar ailments as plagued Mephibosheth, a seat at the table of the King. And not only do I hold that honor right here and now, but I have a guarantee of a place at His table yet to come in a place that transcends all imagination. And when I get to that table, I'll find I don't have bad knees, or a weak heart, or easily-sprained ankles, or any of a dozen other physical ailments. I'll sit there (or maybe fall down) and bask in the glow of my King in a worship feast beyond all banquets I've ever known.

As I hobble down the Crooked Path, I can almost feel the infirmities lifting away. Sure, I have a place at the King's earthly table now, but I can get positively giddy just thinking about the table yet to come. My feet feel lighter and the air is somehow more refreshing than before. I have a place at the King's table ... just like Mephibosheth.

In Search of a Miracle?

It's quite possible we're seeing a miracle in my family right now. I've got a brother who has been battling a brain tumor and, when I saw him a couple of weeks ago he was very weak and stuck in a hospital bed in his own living room.  I won't go through all the details of our last conversation, but it did leave me in tears and yet resolved to accept this rather unnatural manifestation of the natural course of life.  I drove home and was convinced I had seen him for the last time.  And that still might be the case, but then again maybe it won't be.

He's doing more than just rallying.  He's able to move around on his own and he's talking about getting strong enough to come off hospice care and resume some treatment.  There is not medical explanation for this ... it pretty much has to be a miracle as the Finger of God can be the only thing pressing that tumor back and allowing him to regain mobility and function.

Granted, I have to accept this is a temporary reprieve (we all are dying, right?) but we certainly are glad to have it.  However much longer God gives us is a gift and I think my brother recognizes this more than most of us do.  And isn't that kind of give the very definition of a miracle anyway?

So, while I'm rejoicing in that gift, I get a call that causes me to fall speechless.  Earlier this week, a friend and former co-worker called to let me know the wife of a mutual friend (and former boss) had died suddenly.  No apparent reason, no warning and no miracle.  At only 57, this mother of four boys was gone.  Her husband found her when he came home from work that day.  I'm sure there was a physical explanation ... but that hardly matters in the wake of grief my friend, his boys and their extended families are dealing with now.

So all this got me thinking about miracles and about life.  While I think it's fully appropriate to ask for miracles, I think we need to also look around us for the miraculous results of other miracles that happened long ago and yet we take for granted now.  

Think about that for a moment ... think about the greatest, most miraculous wonder of all that is common to us.  The Infinite, Holy God of the Universe created us, gave us free will, knew we would choose to "turn" (check out Paul Young's new book "Eve" if you want a perspective on that word), and chose to pursue us across Heaven and Earth with the intent to win us back.  That's miraculous beyond compare and we have evidence around us that confirms it we should see every day.

But, we want our own "miracle" and focus on that far too often while forgetting to bask in the glory of the miraculous even if it's so very simple.  And never forget that miracles on Earth - the ones we ask for - are temporary.  The miraculous I talked about is permanent.  To me, that makes it work far more.  I think maybe my brother sees that.  I know my friend's wife, standing before the Presence, understands it.

The Crooked Path is a journey, much of which we don't anticipate or plan.  I'd encourage you to be on the lookout for the miraculous even as you ask for a miracle.  In the end, I think you'll find it more satisfying even if you view it through eyes of pain and grief.

No Wild Flocks of Sheep

When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them,

Because they were harassed and helpless,

Like sheep without a shepherd.

~ Matthew 9:36 (ESV) ~

The passage above keeps coming back to mind lately.  And it's got me to thinking about the nature of sheep vs. so many other animals out there.  While almost all of them can be found living in groups of some sort, not a lot of those are found out in the wild.

With the possible exception of Big Horn Sheep in the western US, I don't know of any examples where sheep - the kind we normally think of when the word is said - exist well if they aren't actively herded.  No, you don't hear about sheep without also hearing a couple of common terms that indicate active management or ranching.  And one of those is a shepherd.

The Rabbi has just finished his discourse on the hillside where he lays our God's master story of love and redemption, how an impossibly high standard is being fulfilled right in front of them so they all can be brought back into the family.  So as he looks out over the crowd once again, he's moved by what he sees ... humanly moved because these people - his OWN people - were constantly harassed and harried like sheep whose shepherd had gone AWOL.

Hundreds of years ago, Isaiah prophesied the following (which Jesus himself would claim as his purpose):

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me,

    because the Lord has anointed me

to bring good news to the poor

    he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives,

    and the opening of the prison to those who are bound.

~ Matthew 9:36 (ESV) ~

That sounds like a Shepherd to me ... perhaps the BEST Shepherd one could imagine, especially if you were a sheep who was lost and alone and frightened.

I'm reminded that I don't travel this Crooked Path alone.  I'm not a "wild sheep" skittering around and frightened at what might lie around the next corner.  My Shepherd is actively looking out for me and is intent on binding up my wounds and leading me someplace much better - someplace I was designed to live.  And by that, I mean really LIVE!

A Fork in My Crooked Path - New Beginnings

It was a little over 18 years ago when we welcomed her into our world.  She came in with a bit of trouble, but then nothing truly worthwhile ever comes easily, right?  We did our best through the years ... teaching, giving guidance, giving grace, increasing her opportunity to choose.  I'm really very proud of the woman she has become.  So just a week ago now, we set her off officially on her own Crooked Path, a fork in the road for mine and my wife's.  She's a few hundred miles away exploring, learning, getting frustrated and working things out for herself.  I'm still available to guide, but things are definitely different.

This is what we're supposed to do, or so my friends tell me.  We raise them up, instilling a love for God and awakening their heart's desire for the Mystery in it all.  We pray most certainly (probably now more than ever) and we drive away with some tears (I did well until Sunday when I told her my final good bye).  It's different for each one, especially when it's the first like it is for me and a couple of my friends this year.  Yet there is a common thread, and that really comes down to the fork in the path.

It's a new beginning for all of us.  As I watched things unfold around me last weekend, I was struck by how much life and hope and dreams were on display.  It was so very different from my less-than-stellar choice some 34 years ago.  There was a freedom I could sense ... there were young adults who were hesitant yet confident.  In our case, Anderson welcomed 700 Freshman plus another 100+ transfers.  That's a lot of change (and I'm a project manager by trade - I know change).  That's a lot of forks in a whole lot of Crooked Paths.  And it was very evident that Father God was present in that place because his beloved children were starting something new.  I have to imagine he was grinning from ear to ear with all that fresh excitement.

So my Crooked Path continues, different now because of her new beginning.  Her Crooked Path - her very own - really gets started now.  I'm still the dad and she will always be my first baby girl, but this is a new beginning.  She took a fork in the path I'm not supposed to follow ... in fact I really can't follow it.  I can still see it from my own, but it's her path to travel now.  That's the way it is supposed to be.  And I think I'm OK with that ... yeah, I know I am.  We're both right where we should be.

Like Pebbles in a Pond

"Look after each other so that none of you fails to receive the grace of God." (Hebrews 12:15, NLT)

I'm being challenged much lately by the book I'm using for our Sunday School class.  In Vanishing Grace, Philip Yancey writes extensively about how today's church needs to face the task before us, the task of being "grace givers".  During the course of the book, he calls out three major categories into which we fall (though some of us hit more than one): Pilgrims, Activists and Artists.  Today, we started the chapter on Artists, but all three keep ringing in my mind and heart.  All three are a reflection of who God is and how he moves within us.

God is the original Pilgrim.  He travels into his creation, most specifically in the person of our Diving Brother Jesus, and invites us to journey with him.  If you've read this blog at all you know that's a theme I whole-heartedly embrace.

God is an Activist in the purest sense of the word.  He is constantly acting out of his magnificent love and invites us to act as well, most specifically reaching into the world we inhabit to touch lives both now and for eternity. 

God is most definitely an Artist.  He is creative to the core and in making us, his most beloved creation, he invites us to participate in some fashion with him.  We are bid come and work beside him, to watch what he will make out of us, with us and through us.

That all brings me to the thoughts today and my selected title.  Whatever my "calling" among these three tasks, I often feel inadequate and insufficient.  My journey feels more like I'm wandering.  I see things around me but the depth of problems and my limited abilities seem to fuel my apathy.  I don't feel very creative or talented and, when I compare what I do to others' gifts, I fall flat and so far short.  I have a hard time understanding where I fit as a "grace giver".

But I am one.  Maybe I'm just dropping pebbles in a pond, but so are others.  And those pebbles, small as they might seem, cause rings and ripples to flow outward.  They intersect with the ripples of others and, when joined together even without knowing it, we have a much larger impact.  We don't make this journey alone - we are a community and a far greater one than we ever imagine.

I am a Pilgrim on this Crooked Path.  As I journey, I am called to be an Activist - to act out where I see a need and meet the most basic of human needs when I can.  I am a partner with the Creator Artist and, at minimum, am invited to paint with him on the canvas of my own life.  The ripples of the pebbles I drop will reach outward.  My job, is to keep dropping them in my own pond.  That's how all of us give God's grace to others, so don't miss your opportunities when they come.

The Simplest Recipe for Life

But he’s already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women. It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love, And don’t take yourself too seriously - take God seriously. (Micah 6:8, The Message)

I've been thinking about this verse for some time now.  The book we're working through in a class I'm teaching keeps reminding me of it.  And then incidents like the one in Charleston happen and it weighs heavy on my heart.  The search for answers and reasons, the outcry for justice, the eternal question of "why" seem to scream from every headline.  Maybe it's my stage in life, but I increasingly see people try to complicate what God has said is pretty simple.  The trouble is, that it's often a hard recipe to follow.

I try to steer clear of quoting individual verses and trying to base something bigger on an excerpt, but I think Micah 6:8 is special in that way.  God is telling his people - while they are hurting and mostly disbanded - how to really live.  And I think these three principles apply to us today.  They cover our own heart, the world around us and our relationship with the Creator.

First, we are to set our hearts to a simple and just way of operating.  "If it is to be, it begins with me" or so I've heard it said.  So I must take ownership of who I am and how I live in this world.  It's a call to justice, but not in some flashy, crusader type of way.  It's simply the way we need to be so the world around us can see our Redeemer shining through.

Next, we need to act out of who we are - or rather who we are becoming.  As a rescued person, I need to see the intrinsic worth in every other person that God sees.  If we could do that, maybe life would be a little more precious and we would take steps to ensure others are safe and cared for.  I think it's in the forgetting of this simple, basic tenet that we find the root of crimes like Charleston.  Mercy isn't an option, and it has to flow from our compassion for people that reflects God's heart.

Finally, I'm increasingly convinced that we don't need some complex theological system.  Oh, the deep treasures and riches of God's Story and his nature are wonderful to explore and embrace, but if listen to God's charge through Micah, it starts with humility.  Humility isn't complicated at all - but it is very hard for most of us.  I love the way Peterson renders it and charges us not to take ourselves too seriously.

Three simple steps to the recipe for life along the Crooked Path: 1) Live justly as one with a redeemed heart, 2) Love and practice mercy - and do it actively and 3) Be humble and look to God for direction.  Answers may not always come, but the peace we get from this simple life is beyond belief.