Kindred redefined

Oh, how wonderful, how pleasing it is
    when God’s people all come together as one!
It is like the sweet-smelling oil that is poured over the high priest’s head,
    that runs down his beard flowing over his robes.
It is like a gentle rain from Mount Hermon falling on Mount Zion.
    It is there that the LORD has promised his blessing of eternal life.
                   - Psalm 133, Easy-to-Read Version

This passage was in the lectionary reading for April 15, the second Sunday of Easter. It really stuck out to me that day because, when Jeremy Elliott did the reading, the first verse from the version he used went like this:   "How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!"  I hadn't heard the word "kindred" used in a long while, and it touched me deeply.

Then, as God often does, I was surrounded by this passage from a variety of sources.  It was in my daily readings twice.  I also listened to a sermon delivered that same day by one of our Minter Lane expatriates, Naomi Walters. [You can listen to her wonderful message online here.]  Her primary texts were from John 20 and from Acts 4.  As she worked her way through from Jesus' appearance to the frightened disciples in the locked room, all the way to the post-Pentecost Christians having everything in common, with God's grace upon them all, she made a wonderful observation.  In the first passage, we see the church at its very worst - terrified, paralyzed, seemingly unable to believe all that Jesus had told them, and unable to tell the good news to anyone else, even after eyewitnesses saw Jesus alive.  In the second passage, we see the church at its very best - energized, Spirit-filled, meeting the needs of each believer.  Then she finished with Psalm 133, a beautiful description of what would become reality when Christ-followers worked together.

This week I've been blessed by Christians who have come alongside me in unexpected ways to help bear heartache when I was overflowing with tears. And today I was privileged to see Christ's body demonstrated in some amazing ways.  This morning, Lloyd Boyll, a 92-year old member at Minter Lane, preached the sermon for us from the seat of his walker.  His eyes lit up as he described how God chose us in Christ and gave us power to be more than we are now.  His seat-mate, 99-year old Roland Johnson, was there cheering him on.  At Minter's annual spring picnic, we shared burgers, hot dogs, double-dutch jump rope, Banagrams, Uno, stories, and smiles.  And tonight I got to hold the youngest member of our community, George Forrester Perrey, and to watch his mama and daddy as they begin this wonderful journey of parenthood.  And all these saints are my kindred!  Praise God!

I'll close tonight with another verse from "For the Beauty of the Earth":

For the joy of human love,
Brother, sister, parent, child -
Friends on earth and friends above,
For all gentle thoughts and mild.
Lord of all, to Thee we raise
This our hymn of grateful praise.

P.S.  If you'd like to see our Minter Lane kindred at today's picnic, enjoy this album.

Minter 4-2012 Picnic 4.29.12

The brokenness of creation

In spite of all the beauty we see with our eyes, Paul tells us that the creation is fundamentally broken. In Romans 8:18-25, he writes:

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

Most days, I don't think about creation being in bondage to decay. And I don't even think a whole lot about my own bondage, unless my joints hurt or I forget an appointment, or when I stick my foot in my mouth. But some days ... some days there are waves of bad news. Death, divorce, disease, dissension, discontent. My heart screams, "Why is this happening? Why to this person, who has honored you with a life of service?"

As I talked through those questions this week with my daughters, I thought back to when they were small. I had just delivered some news to them about a family member, and I was trying to boil the whole issue of why God's people suffer down to the elementary-school level. As I recall, we had been studying Genesis in BSF at the time, so the story of Adam and Eve's sin in the garden was still fresh on my mind. But we got to the idea of brokenness starting from the garden, moving in waves through the centuries to touch each one of us: one decision with very long-lasting consequences (Roman 5:12).  Bekah said, "I'm mad at Adam and Eve!" Every sin, every betrayal, every sickness, even death - especially death - is evidence of that breakage. And while we are often willing participants, we can't help but groan with creation while we wait for things to be made right in the world.

However, in an earlier chapter (Romans 5), Paul addresses both the breakage and the deliverance to come:

Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned—... (12)

For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ! Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous. (17-18)

I hope today you can join with me in eager expectation for the day we, along with the creation, will be brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God - a reality that may not seem obvious today, but has already been accomplished. Thanks be to God for the Obedient One!

Mighty oaks from little acorns grow

Yesterday, while waiting for the irrigation man to come give me an estimate, I decided to be productive and pull a few weeds.  Said weeds also included a multitude of little oak sprouts.  Normally, those are rooted so deeply by the time I get to them that they just snap off at ground level.  But this time I received a wonderful bonus.

It's been a long time since I've actually seen a complete acorn attached to a sapling. On the right you can see the taproot beginning its long journey downwards.  The shell is complete, though cracked, with life bursting forth in amazing strength.  If we hadn't had recent rain, I would not have been able to pull it up. 

This little sapling is the offspring of this live oak tree in our front yard.

Since the house was built in 1985, and I don't think the tree was native to the lot, that means it's at least 27 years past acornhood, and probably closer to 30.  It's rather stunning to contemplate humble acorns as carriers of God's glorious tree, tucked in brown, crushed underfoot, buried by squirrels - truly "treasure in jars of clay" (2 Cor. 4:7).

Isaiah knew about acorns and oaks, too.  God made it clear from the beginning days of Israel as a people that he did not choose them because they were strong, good-looking, or above average students.  He took ordinary, flawed, ornery people and set them apart for His good purposes.  And what purposes He had for them!  Read this passage from Isaiah 61:

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,

   because the LORD has anointed me

   to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

   to proclaim freedom for the captives

   and release from darkness for the prisoners,

to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor

   and the day of vengeance of our God,

to comfort all who mourn,

   and provide for those who grieve in Zion —

to bestow on them a crown of beauty

   instead of ashes,

the oil of joy

   instead of mourning,

and a garment of praise

   instead of a spirit of despair.

They will be called oaks of righteousness,

   a planting of the LORD

   for the display of his splendor.

Just listen to that description of His people - poor, brokenhearted, captive, prisoners, grieving, mourning, ashes, despair. Makes that little acorn look pretty good, eh?  And yet God's vision for them - past the non-descript shell, past the time required in the dirt - is so magnificent!  He sees.....

• Oaks of righteousness - we are embued with a strength, dignity and purity that we sometimes can't even see in ourselves
• A planting of the Lord - not planted by a squirrel or happenstance, but purposefully God-planted where we are right now
• For the display of His splendor - we have purpose, eternal purpose, that begins in the acorn's shell and ends when we see Him face to face

Today I especially have small beginnings on my mind as our Minter Lane church welcomes George Forrester Perrey as the newest member of our community.  God has planted him right here to be loved by his parents and extended family, nurtured by old and young at Minter, and shown the way of Christ.  I can't wait to see the mighty oak of righteousness he will become!  May we embrace God's power to turn little acorns (like us!) into mighty oaks, all for the display of His splendor.

An Easter tribute to the mesquite

My morning reading for this Easter day included a passage from Psalm 118, a psalm of great victory that is rich in content on so many levels.  However, one sentence really jumped out at me:

I shall not die but live, and declare the works of the Lord.

Yesterday as I walked through the neighborhood, I passed a row of empty lots that may never be occupied due to their steep grade.  Erosion has carved little arroyos down the hill, and a surprising variety of flowering plants have clawed their way out of the red and rocky soil.

The star of the show to me, though, was the lowly mesquite (don't laugh - stick with me!). 

The hillside was dotted with seedlings of various sizes, which wasn't a surprise to me.  For those of you who aren't from west Texas, mesquite trees are everywhere here.  In town, some older mesquites have been trimmed to become part of the urban landscape; the farther you go from the city, the more densely you will find them.  They are the bane of farmers and ranchers because they are almost impossible to kill.  This is for a variety of reasons.  Apparently they have enormously long taproots (the record for the longest taproot is 190 feet!) and survive when many other larger trees die during drought.  Their regeneration zone goes down over six inches below ground level, and if even a sliver of root is left, they will grow back.  Add the multitude of seeds per pod and, well, that means a lot of mesquites.

This morning as we celebrated the resurrection with our brothers and sisters at Minter Lane, the pulpit was surrounded by Easter lilies.  Now, I don't want to get picky, but that's not what I would call an indigenous plant around here.  Beautiful, yes - local, no.  Those flowers are pampered and petted up in the Pacific northwest, the land of rain and coolness, and imported to growers here just in time to bloom for Easter.

I understand that there have been years of tradition connecting the pure, white blooms of the lily to Jesus, Mary, and the resurrection.  But I would like to make the case for the mesquite as a beautiful symbol for Christ's resurrection day:

Rejected by men

Marred in form

Covered in thorns

Cut down, dug out, burned to the ground

And yet - in spite of everything -

Lives on!

Its roots go deep down to the source of life 

Its seeds provide food and multiply that life

Its wood warms and flavors and gives structure and stability

So, the next time you see a mesquite and all of its seedling children, you might just imagine it shouting out with Jesus, "I shall not die but live!" Christ is risen!  He is risen, indeed!  Alleluia.

There was a garden...

This morning, my readings for Holy Saturday included the passage from John 19 describing the removal of Jesus' body from the cross by Joseph and Nicodemus, and their loving preparation of his body for burial. Verses 41-42 tell us: 

At the place where Jesus was crucified, there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb, in which no one had ever been laid. Because it was the Jewish day of Preparation and since the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.

John (of course!) is the only one of the gospel writers who includes the little detail about the garden, and how the tomb was located there.  It is interesting to me that a garden - the place where Jesus' parables about good soil and bad soil, about seeds being buried in the earth before bringing new life, were on display every day - this living laboratory, as it were, was the location where God chose to demonstrate what those stories were ultimately all about.

Gardens and April 7 come together to flood me with memories of my paternal grandmother, Lizzie Buske Young.  She was born on this day 102 years ago in Anson, the fifth of what would eventually be a large brood of ten children.  Her childhood was spent in dry and dusty west Texas, from Anson, to Spur, to Abernathy.  Her parents somehow made ends meet as dry cotton farmers and ranchers, and for part of that time, as owners of a hotel right by the railroad in Abernathy.  She told how, from the age of eight, she would get up at 3:00 a.m. with her mother and sisters to begin preparations to feed the crowd of men who would be expecting a hearty breakfast and a sack lunch to go.  She was in charge of bread and pies, making rolls, "light bread" (what she called loaf bread), and other wonderful things.  Today I will think of her as I bake rolls for our family and friends.  

After she married my grandfather, J.P., they eventually moved to Carlsbad, NM.  But the piece de resistance was when, in an unexpected transaction, Granddad traded his business for a ranch in Mancos, CO.  Talk about a change of location!  They had a house in town where Grandma had the rose garden to end all rose gardens.  I would spend time in those sweet and short summer seasons with them, sometimes going out to the ranch with Granddad, other days staying in town with her.  Her yard was the green that Abilenians dream about, and she tended each of those rose bushes with tender loving care.  Her favorite, and mine too, was the Peace rose.  This morning on my walk, I saw one for the first time in a long time.

When they retired and moved back to west Texas, Grandma attacked that dry land with vigor and determination, finding things that would grow and giving them the same tender care.  Hollyhocks, iris, apricot trees, roses, even dahlias.  This week, Grandma's purple iris bloomed at my house.

Well up into her 80s, and well after physical and mental illness had robbed her of the ability to do many things, she still went out every day to work in her yard.  In 2004, at the age of 94, Lizzie Young put off the shell that had hindered her for so long and joined the God she had loved and served for so many years.

As I anticipate tomorrow's celebration of Christ's resurrection from the garden tomb, so I anticipate the day when I will be caught up in the air with those faithful ones I loved so much.  Lord, come quickly!

Meeting in the cloud

Today's sky made me think of many things.  It was a display of God's splendor, creativity, power, and beauty.  We're in the midst of the spring season where warm days spawn impressive thunderheads, the kinds that rapidly rise like mushrooms, then collapse in an outflow of cool wind and sometimes rain.

Then after supper, the light show began (didn't we have enough beauty already?  What a gift!).  Golden, pink, with a half moon above, clouds near and far.

It's interesting to me that the book of Exodus is full of references to clouds.  The pillar of cloud was the visible manifestation of God's glory - if you could see the cloud, you knew God was near.  OK, he was near even without the cloud, but sometimes you and I need reassurance.  The cloud helped the people know when to go and when to stay.  The cloud moved between the Israelites and their enemies as protection.  The cloud was present and fearful and full of smoke and thunder on Mt. Sinai - a reminder, I think, that God was near, but that they should NOT approach him casually.  But Moses goes straight in, in to the cloud.

After the whole golden calf incident, Moses goes back in. Exodus 32-33 chronicles one of the most wondrous conversations in the entire Bible between Moses and Yahweh, a conversation of frankness and confession and intercession and boldness such as I've never read.  The cloud does that to you.  It separates you from the distractions and doubters, disorients you enough to re-orient you to what really matters.  The epicenter is Moses' request to see God's glory - amazing! Bold! I wonder what Moses thought when God answered in the affirmative?

Exodus 34 paints the picture:

So Moses chiseled out two stone tablets like the first ones and went up Mount Sinai early in the morning, as the LORD had commanded him; and he carried the two stone tablets in his hands. Then the LORD came down in the cloud and stood there with him and proclaimed his name, the LORD. And he passed in front of Moses, proclaiming, “The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished; he punishes the children and their children for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation.”

Later in the chapter we see what time in the cloud does to Moses:

When Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the two tablets of the covenant law in his hands, he was not aware that his face was radiant because he had spoken with the LORD. When Aaron and all the Israelites saw Moses, his face was radiant, and they were afraid to come near him. But Moses called to them; so Aaron and all the leaders of the community came back to him, and he spoke to them. Afterward all the Israelites came near him, and he gave them all the commands the LORD had given him on Mount Sinai.

When Moses finished speaking to them, he put a veil over his face. But whenever he entered the LORD’s presence to speak with him, he removed the veil until he came out. And when he came out and told the Israelites what he had been commanded, they saw that his face was radiant. Then Moses would put the veil back over his face until he went in to speak with the LORD.

I suspect that the glory we see in the clouds on days like today is just a glimmer of the glory we will one day see face to face.  Join me when you look.... imagine the LORD proclaiming his name and his character, and be willing to meet with him right then and there.  You just might leave with a radiance that won't come from anywhere - or anyone - else.