Peripheral Ponderings

 

For all that Christianity has sometimes been seen as an exclusive religion, the New Testament shows Jesus constantly invited people to follow him, to choose the better way of communion with God and others.

Jesus tells a parable about those who turn down a king’s gracious invitation to his son’s wedding feast, even abusing those who offered it.   As a result, the king tells his servants to go out and invite all kinds of people from the streets instead.

Prior to telling this parable, Jesus tells the educated people (who should have recognized Him for who he was), that” crooks and whores are going to precede you into God’s kingdom . . . even when you saw their changed lives, you didn’t care enough to change and believe Him.” (The Message)

This parable refers to the Kingdom of Heaven, but it begins even now, here on earth.  Like the bride-to-be who samples some of the food choices the caterer offers for the wedding dinner, we have been given a foretaste of the goodness of God.  And He has provided for us a beautiful world.  When we treat what God has provided for us with contempt and arrogance, we turn our back on both gift and Giver, closing ourselves off from admittance to the eternal world of abundant life.

“I am large, I contain multitudes,” said the poet Walt Whitman.  It’s true that in myself I often find a cynic, a critical judge, a doubter and other unsavory characters, as hard as I try to leave them behind.   Nelson Mandela talked of the African concept of ubuntu, the reality that we are only human through the humanity of others.  Until we come to realize our common need of a Saviour, we project on to and disown others and shut ourselves away from true celebration.  Unbelievably, the door has now been opened to those astonished that they are wanted.

It’s the season of Lent, a time to look into our hearts, to respond to God’s offer of the Life his Son died to give us.   There will be a great wedding feast.  We need only to admit our need of God’s gracious offer, and we will be admitted into a celebration of His glory and splendour, welcomed and given a place at His table.

“All day long the sun proclaims it
Like a Bridegroom dressed in white
Coming from his tent to greet them
All his guests feel his delight.
Words of love and warmth he whispers,
Warming all who hear His voice
‘Oh, be glad and share my table
Dance and celebrate, rejoice!
Dance and celebrate, rejoice!'”

Excerpted from Anthem, by Gaither

“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in” 

Anthem, Leonard Cohen

It was early in pandemic days, when many church congregations were still trying to get their footing in the digital world, when we watched one service that had the lyrics posted along with the music so that we could sing along.

Unfortunately, there had been a misspelling in the text.  Normally this sticks out like a sore thumb to me, probably due to the stringent efforts of teachers as far back as grade-school, to ensure we got words right.   I remember spelling bees with two teams lined up at the back of the classroom.  Once the teacher named a word, there was a mad dash to inscribe it on the dusty blackboard, quickly and correctly, to make our individual contribution to the team’s success.  Generally,  these games were considered great fun.

But sometimes, like a Freudian slip, a misspelling creates a paradigm shift that reveals a world underneath.  The word believe had been misspelled in the lyrics, as “belive.”  To believe is a central Christian tenet,  It implies a holding something precious close to our heart,  but can be such a fuzzy, abstract concept.  Sometimes, when we go through difficult times of doubt,  it can feel tougher to maintain than a lifetime of works.

But for just an instant, an epiphany seemed to illuminate “be live.” And I had to stop to ponder this.   For, after all, we are to be in Jesus, to live in Jesus’ Life, to fully be alive.

Each Sunday, our technical teams faithfully prepare the readings and lyrics in the worship software for the intended church service.  As each screen is lined up, there is a moment when the technician hits the Go Live button, and the words are displayed so that all can participate.

Living the Christian life first means being in Jesus, then doing out of that.  This means we are fully connected to the Source,  set free to be abundantly alive.  It’s an overflowing life that enriches the lives of others.

All of this insight from a “mistake.”  Perhaps perfection is not only unattainable, but highly overrated.  Because, as the apostle Paul discovered, God shines best in our weaknesses.

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.”

2 Corinthians 4:7

My sister-in-law kindly gave me the little woodland sculpture that captures some of the whimsy of a forest home, even to suggesting a snail’s pace atop the stump.  I’m not sure if she was aware of how apt a gift it was, whether I’d ever mentioned my childhood wishes to her.

When living with three sisters and a brother in a small farmhouse, one of my cherished dreams was to have a place of my very own, a “cabin in the woods.”  Both time and space were rare commodities, and my imaginary world envisioned a place far away from the hectic pace of the world around me.  Being a fantasy, of course, my rustic cabin would not have problems with bugs or mice, and I would happily live with only the barest of essentials.

I had never heard of Thoreau or his experiment in simple living on Walden Pond, but I understand that longing for solitude, and how he was weary of the artifices of society.   I wanted the same kind of freedom to just be myself.

Well, I’ve grown up and we are living in the woods, but admittedly with far more conveniences and square footage than I would have had in a tiny cabin.   The dream has not entirely disappeared,  although I don’t know if I could manage cabin living in the wild without internet.  There are logistical challenges that arise, for example, in lugging groceries through forest glades, and some thought would have to be given into bathroom amenities, which I’m sure wasn’t considered an interior necessity by actual pioneers.

In my solitary cabin in the woods
I’d need only some basic goods
A little desk, a place for a fire
Blessed silence is all I require.

The dappled sun, wind in the trees
Would gently waft the summer leaves
No rude interruption by anyone
To happily write till my work is done.

With the poet in blissful solitude
Taking the path less traveled through
To hear the birds’ symphonic choir
And seek a true wisdom to acquire.

But then, maybe this longing to come away, to simplify, is elemental, a yearning back to an original Eden.  As we are increasingly technologized and civilized, it feels as if we’ve lost that connection, and we’re being called home by Nature herself.

Perhaps it’s not too late to build a cabin in the woods . . . . ?  (This is getting my husband a little concerned!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“No matter what he does, every person on earth plays a central role in the history of the world. And normally he doesn’t know it.”
― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

Recently I spent some time to again read Coelho’s story of an Andalusian shepherd boy’s quest for treasure:  it’s a simple but profound story.  Santiago’s journey centers around his Personal Legend, but he also comes to know that he is part of a larger story God has written.  As we all are.

When I was in grade school our teachers took pains to teach us legible handwriting, a skill that isn’t necessarily being taught today.  But handwriting is not the only way our life is told.  Our unique way of being is evident in the objects we use to decorate our homes, the photos we keep.  It is revealed in the places we go, the friends we spend time with, the books we read, even the searches we enter in Google.  Our origins and patterns are in our genetic code.    Our life paths leave unique traces of which we are only beginning to be aware.

Over the ages, human nature has been surprisingly consistent.  It’s important to know the legends of those who lived before us.  Ancient plotlines reveal precedents that echo in modern-day settings.    Mark Twain once said “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.”

The word legend comes from the French, meaning “what is to be read.”   Legend also describes a symbolic code which is the key to understanding a map; it allows us to read and navigate a terrain that includes both natural and cultural landmarks. Human nature exists bound up in Nature, and so we must learn to understand our world as our indigenous peoples read the landscape around them.

God is in Holy Scripture, but He is certainly not limited to it.  He continues to speak that Word into our lives today, so that we can courageously meet with both opportunity and challenge.  When God’s ways and God’s stories are written on our hearts we will also create legends in and of our time.

In a land where there are no musicians;
In a land where there are no storytellers, teachers, and poets;
In a land where there are no men and women of vision and leadership;
In a land where there are no legends, saints, and champions;
In a land where there are no dreamers,
The people will most certainly perish.
But you and I, we are the music makers;
We are the storytellers, teachers, and poets;
We are the men and women of vision and leadership;
We are the legends, the saints, and the champions;
And we are the dreamers of the dreams.”

Matthew Kelly

 

When our family was young, neighbouring children were always welcome to come over and hang out.  Our house wasn’t big, but  the activity and laughter was a joy to have around.

Michael, who can’t have been much more than 5 or 6 years old at the time, lived next door;  we’d often answer a knock and see his sunshiny, cherubic face.  He would ask whether our kids could play with him.  They were his official babysitters at times, so he felt at home with them.

One day, I answered the door to find Michael the Warrior standing there.   While Michael’s immediate family wasn’t religious, his extended family was, and he was wearing a costume given to him by his aunt.  He was in his Ephesians 6 regalia, and just had to come over to show us.

In the Jewish scriptures, Michael is the archangel warrior, the prince and protector of Israel.  He is also recognized in Christianity and Islam,  a healer and slayer of dragons.  In Revelation 12:7, we see Michael fighting a battle against the the devil and defeating him.

People want to name their children heroic names; it’s seen as kind of a blessing, or sometimes a remembrance  of someone powerful or dearly loved.   We are more casual about names than people who lived in Biblical times; then it was felt that a name also conferred a calling.  Patriarchs Abram and Jacob were given new names when there was a major shift in identity.

Perhaps we, like innocent children,  have no idea of the epic scale of some of the concepts at play in the world.  The great story of the battle of good versus evil echoes in hundreds of warrior stories.  They are told in obscure places, and set in cultures and their mythologies.

While our children are yet small, we want them to be equipped with all the armour of God to endure and prevail through all the hardships and perils of life.  As adults, we still need all the spiritual armour available to us.

“Therefore, put on the full armour of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything to stand.  Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”
Ephesians 6:13-17  

Sometimes, wisdom is revealed from the mouths of babes.  Like it was the day Michael the Warrior showed up on our doorstep.