I love my Rock- Valentine for Erik

I 've known Erik now for over half my life...wow that is strange to say. I mean we are both so different than when we first met...college dorm young, skinny, wilder, weirder, louder  (thats' mostly me.)

Why do I love him...if love is how one makes you feel then he makes me feel beautiful, safe, appreciate, intelligent, sexy, capable, loyal, like a great wife, provided for, like a great mom.

But love is more than that.  Love has to be more than how I feel, in response to my sweety and hopefully more than how he feels in response to me ( which I am assuming is all positive).

So who is my sweety?
Intelligent-- one of the most innovative problem solvers I know. He sees solutions to things no one even thinks of. 

Dead sexy ( yeah baby! ). Provider strong sweet, generous fixer, Steps forward in faith, admits he is wrong (usually), puts others first(always). 

 I love him for the big moments in my life but more importantly the small moments:  hand held, pat on the hiney ,the encouraging word, the laughter at a joke, and tears during a movie. 

His life reflects a Big God .
He strives to ,however imperfectly, be more Christ-like and less Erik-like. It is a joy to know our hearts are together, to know  he is in Love with God as much as he is in love with me. 

So I have tried to minimize Valentine's over the years. It is really made up holiday overall that seems to cause an inordinate amount of stress, over spending, over  eating, and chocolate sales. I am against all of those except the chocolate sales. Erik has never really cared for cards (and has expressly asked to not receive one unless a kid made it or it was really funny). But I wrote this poem for him. 

Valentine for Erik

At night

I reach out to touch your hand.

Even in sleep you reach back.

My index finger traces

the back of your hand,

slowly descending to the palm.

Calluses like rocks leading to hills of knuckles.

Scars map out certain histories.

Heavy hands full of building and moving,

earth smells of oil and wood,

nails and soap,

man smells.

Your gold band has rough edges,

collecting warmth in the middle.

I reach the beating life

at the base of your wrist.

I track the rhythm

with my finger tips

until my pulse slows

to your steady beat.

1 John 4 
God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.¹⁷In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment, because in this world we are like him. ¹⁸There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.

¹⁹We love because he first loved us.  

A Tale of Two Brothers

Luke 15- 11-32-- "The Prodigal Son"  or as I think of it "Tale of Two Brothers".  The part of the story of the younger brother seems so true.

I want to be that brother.

I want the story of  rebellion, repentance, and redemption. That is a noble story-- A story of the gift of grace -- beautiful unmerited favor. A dramatic story with a loving resolution. An underdog that gets the win.

Thinking about the younger brother presumes he is the focus of Christ's parable. As if Jesus was saying : Don't be like this. Don't demand blessings and squander them. Don't leave the father's side or you will be lost.  But maybe he isn't the focus of the parable. Maybe it is the hardened heart of the older brother.

I am the older brother. My easy cautious life makes outward rebellion impractical if not ridiculous. But a heart's rebellion? A heart's unwillingness to forgive whom God forgives? Love whom God Loves? That is my rebellion. My heart is wallowing in the mud spiritually with nothing but the pigs food.

Both brothers wanted riches and inheritance.

The younger brother was just honest about it and was unwilling to wait.

The older brother still wanted the inheritance but was willing to wait it out and check all the boxes. Stayed home- check. Worked hard every day -- check. Followed the law -- check. Followed the rules-- check.  Got the approval --check. Did everything right--check. Get the land/wealth/family name in the end--check.

And that is what I am after isn't it? Not Grace. Not Mercy. Not Love. Not if those things are going to also be given to those I don't feel deserve it. I want God to reward inheritance the way I see fit-- as if those mighty gifts were mine to distribute in the first place.
I want to check off a box and get the prize so I can then judge those who don't. Because then I'll be right. Then I'll be good.

Thank you Mighty GOD, your ways are not my ways.


Oh my Father--
Let me do nothing that is "right" becuase it is right, but becuase it reflects your righteousness.

Let me do nothing that is "good" because it is good, but because it is your will acted out in the world... a way to bring The Kingdom at hand.

Let me do all things with the same Mercy and Grace you freely give me.

Let me see the embrace of your open arms, knowing you have been here all along.

The Truth is...Knowledge does not always equal Understanding

Pontius Pilot, a strange person (to me) in the history of Christ's Passion. What has stood out to me the most about him is the conversation with Christ ( John 18:38 ) when Christ declares who He is (our King) and his purpose ( bring all to Truth in Him). Pilate's response is such a "modern" secular response..."What is truth?". Pilot is searching for a reason not to believe what is before him ( in my humble interpretation) he even goes out to the crowd next in a vain attempt to free Christ and, most notably, absolve his own guilt/sin.
He simply doesn't see the truth... Christ came, Christ Died, Christ rose again to take away our guilt and sin. We can not do it on our own, we cannot define truth outside of God and our place with Him.
No matter how hard we try to reason, debate, or think...it all comes back to Jesus.

Please read the links to the verses. Please pray and wrestle with what Christ is telling you.
As always...please enjoy this poem for what it is ...my gift to you.

Pilot’s Lament

(John 18:28-40, 19:1-16, Mark 15:1-15, Matt 27:11-26, Luke 23:1-25, )

The Truth is…

These backwater religious fools

would have me do the dirty work.

Their power stops at the Temple Door,

So their hands always stay clean.

The Truth is…

I pride myself a judge of men.

I know the weak, the cunning, the faint of heart.

And here stands this man- this carpenter.

No madman boasting delirium

or cowardly pleas.

He speaks with surety of a kingdom unseen

yet as real as the bruises on his face,

real as his mud stained torn clothes.

His gaze steady as a centurion before battle

even as the crowd is whipped up for his blood.

The Truth is…

This man stands before me

with some strange nobility.

Spit, thorns, and mockery

do nothing to his dignity.

The blood of every stripe

on his back

radiating some hidden glory

outshining the humiliation.

The Truth is…

That this man stands before me

As if he had the power

to choose his life

or choose his death.

Can he not hear the crowds’ betrayal?

They choose a terrorist over a teacher.

Can he not see the only truth?

    Of my power and his pain,

    Of his blood and a cross?

Can I not wash my hands of you?

   Innocent pawn,

   Foolish philosopher,

   Only trying

   for some small truth.

I cannot wash my hands of you.

I cannot wash my hands of Truth.

Redeem

Definitions of the word "redeem":

To recover ownership of by paying a specified sum.

2. To pay off (a promissory note, for example).

3. To turn in (coupons, for example) and receive something in exchange.

4. To fulfill (a pledge, for example).

5. To convert into cash: redeem stocks.

6. To set free; rescue or ransom.

7. To save from a state of sinfulness and its consequences. See Synonyms at save¹.

8. To make up for: The low price of the clothes dryer redeems its lack of special features.

9. To restore the honor, worth, or reputation of: You botched the last job but can redeem yourself on this one.

How often in our consumer driven culture do we see or use this term? Redeem this coupon, use this rebate, redeem your ticket, etc. It has such a consumer/monetary meaning based on stuff. Looking at these definitions I am struck at how much we are Redeemed by our Savior. He paid the sin debt, he was turned in, bodily, so we could receive his Spirit in exchange, He fulfilled a pledge of Love, He converted death into life, He rescued us... I could go on.

This a poem I wrote some time ago. I put it in the office mail box of the ladies leading the study at our church as a gift. It is now a gift to you. Love you ... believe you are redeemed in HIM with me. 

Redeemed

I am not my own.

I was never my own.

Like fallow land sold in desperate times

I sold out. I am sold out,

To sin

To pain

            To death

But my Master has returned

He sees not the rocks and sand

But the verdant soil of possibility.

I am bought back for a price.

         Brought back,

prodigal child to my loving father.

I am not my own.

I was never my own.

Yet, I trafficked myself, my life, my love

            Buying my chains

            Kneeling in pain

            Earning only tears

But the High Priest declares the Jubilee

He goes before me

His blood pours forth,

            The chains break.

            Tears wiped clean.

            I stand.

I am bought back,

            brought back.

I am not my own.

I was never my own.

The Ransom is paid --- My Father is here.

I am absolved –My Master has come home

I was never my own,

            But His Child

            Bought Back by His Love

            Brought Back to His Heart

I was never my own

I am bought back

            Brought back

            Free.

Evidence of Things Unseen

     Hebrews 11

New King James Version (NKJV)

By Faith We Understand

11 Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. ² For by it the elders obtained agood testimony.

Evidence of Things Unseen

Fluttering over the stone gray steps,

Haloed in stained glass light,

The church ladies,

wave goodbye.

As I break from their flock,

Reminders of Wednesday night Mass

And Bingo ring out;

They coo and huddle like pigeons.

I walk to my car

Full of Hail Marys

And appropriate remorse.

Fumbling for car keys

I hear his shuffling gait behind me

A brilliant map of veins

crosses his face.

His breath is stained

by stale cigarettes

and a binge.

The mace in my pocket

feels like a slick fist.

His fingers run

through his graying mop of hair.

He then holds out his hands

like a priest, giving benediction,

“He relieves all unnecessary pain.”

He waits for a response,

A patient confessor.

Safe inside the car,

locked doors, I look away.

I wait.

With something like shame

I open the door, thrusting some dollars

into his hands.

I race out of the church parking lot.

I look back.

He is smiling.

The bills fly out of his hands

Like doves.

The Woman at the Well John 4

This is a poem I wrote some time ago based on the passage in John 4 where Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at a well. She shows great faith and evangelism. I invite and encourage you to enjoy the passage Bible gateway John 4. And please enjoy the poem.

The Woman at the Well

John 4

I went to the well at noon.

Nothing filled this empty heart --

Not husbands

Not family

Not the man in my bed right now.

Nothing flows from this shattered jar of clay.

This teacher, this Jew, sees me.

Questions me.

How does he not know?

He can not speak to me,

he must not speak to me.

My ears drink up his words of their own volition.

Living water—

to no longer lug this heavy jar at noon away from prying eyes ,

to no longer feel my sweat raining down in the heat of the day,

so I don’t have the flood of whispered insults.

Living Water –

to never be thirsty again.

HE knows me.

How can he know this,

Secret heart, secret shame?

How does he know I’ve toiled so long

to still be thirsty?

Surely he is the Lord.

He is the LORD.

I am

quenched.

Water from the Rock.

A heart blooming in the desert.

I will not hold back the Flood

His Love

Living Water

for Everyone.

Two Messages: Truth and Lies

I substitute in several area secondary schools ( think 6th -12th grade ). I won't mention the specific schools as I think the experiences are typical of any secondary school. There seems to be two prevailng messages as evidenced in that age old method of communication unique to every public sphere--bathroom graffiti.
       As a sub I don't always get a chance to race to the faculty lounge or teacher restroom so I have to brave the LGR ( little girls room )  and often over hear the gossip, excitement, anguish and angry discussions that come from the ever present cell phones and social media feed. Interestingly I haven't seen as much of the random acts of wall writing or artistry as I used to because of the above mentioned cell phones. Students can virtually "tag" anytime, anywhere, anyone...and not get caught.
You can guess the first of the two general messages or vibes - gossip, maliciousness, lies, and silliness ( dancing cats ).  But the second message , much smaller, I've witnessed in several restrooms in various schools:

" Hang in there"
" You look great "
" Chin Up You're. Worth it! "
" You are beautiful "
" Don't believe the lie. You are loved"

I now purposely seek out those restrooms for the emotional "shot in the arm" these missives bring. An inoculation against the viral junky messages that swirl around these kids all day. Yes, whoever penned and carved these quotes may have very much been in the "snarky" high school vein. But I think when a high school or middle school ( or much older ) girl reads "Hang in there" she hears so much more than sarcasm. This girls reads the truth that things will be OK. That she is loved beyond measure, a beautiful worthwhile creation. I have to believe these little love letters hold a little more permanence in hearts and minds of the young ( and old ) women that read them than the here one minute gone the next bombardments of social media. They do for me. Sometimes truth shouts boldly from a mountain top. Yet sometimes truth , for us to hear it, has to whisper quiet reassurance through a permanent marker on a bathroom wall.
Thank you for truth in unlikely places. Thank you for beauty in a bathroom stall.