Taking off the stinking slipper

A close encounter with God, ultimately means a close encounter with ourselves. And maybe not surprisingly, it's this latter meeting that may intimidate us the more. Because we remember what's there. And maybe worse, what's not there.

We may be terrified by the general sensation of intimacy and revelation, particularly if in the conveniently buried parts of ourselves, we carry an ID card, of sorts, of avert-the-eyes, shrink-and-clench shame. After finding them hiding in the garden, post-forbidden fruit, God said to Adam and Eve, "how come you're now embarrassed about your bodies?" After all, A&E were running around naked for who knows how long, having a great time. The shame didn't come from God or from their created state; vulnerability about all we are doesn't have to bring shame.  But shame was the silent partner in the sin that snared 'em. 

Shame is a self judgement, a giant, ugly bleeping thing that is tied around our neck. It is opportunistic, taking advantage of any convenient sin around you; not just your own. Many of us bear shame that came to us as little kids through adult messes around us. It's hard to get rid of.

A man at the dog park recently told me how he taught his puppy to stop chewing his rubber slippers. He took the one she chewed and fitted it over her head so that it was tight around her neck and couldn't come off and she had to wear it around all day; after that she wouldn't come anywhere near slippers.

I don't think shame works in the same way although some religious types imagine it does; rather, I think shame gets noosed around our neck when we chew on sin and God actually wants us to come to him and let him take the stinking, aggravating slipper off. I don't know if we are as smart as the dog to connect the shame to the sin; we tend to just ingest that we ourselves are giant, ugly bleeping things and we might as well do crap to ourselves and others (sin) since we have such little worth. The truly grave consequence of Adam and Eve's sin was that death entered humanity; but shame is the haunting pre-stench of that rot. And both sin and shame work cruelly to separate us from the kindness of our God.

This is why the good news of Jesus is all that. He has not only closed the dripping maw of eternal death with his own beautiful, immortal life but he has radically and kindly lifted us by the chin to say "Neither do I condemn you. Have peace." Jesus, motivated by the joy of our rescue, himself "scorned the shame" of the cross (Heb 12.2), and uprose against all mortal gravities, taking us with him to sit in the Father's perfect favor. He wore our skin and bones as if to say to us in the hearing of all the universe, angels and demons, defenders and accusers alike: "See, I'm not in the least ashamed of YOU. I really LIKE you. In fact, I AM now LIKE you. You have nothing to fear."

Jesus approaches us without hesitation. He grabs us warmly by the arms and says, "Come into the great house, I have so much for you but we can talk on the way." He is not big on prepping us to be "just so" before he brings us home. We come into the Father's blindingly good presence with sandy feet and not knowing which fork to use first, and it's okay because we're beloved friends that His son just brought home from the neighborhood.

Don't run. You are already known beyond your knowing. And you have been aggressively sought after for true love's sake. The cost has been no barrier to him because His affection is beyond your human reason. Let it be so; to insist on human reason at this point would be the saddest and deadliest poison of pride, the devil's last and trusted device. If we trade our "oh hell, it's just not possible for ME" for "I would believe", Jesus will restore to us the most beautiful glory of vulnerability that ever graced Eden: innocence. As strong as the One it leans on, fertile in its power, and untroubled in its peace.

So then, when you are invited to come close in your heart and encounter God, give your shy soul's hope a chance and say to both God and yourself, "Ok, I'm coming."

Efficient vs Loving

"By worshiping efficiency, the human race has achieved the highest level of efficiency in history, but how much have we grown in love?" Gerald May

The word breathes silent

Everything spills out these cupboards, so much of so little.

Desires labeled and retrieved, deafening clicks.

Screens burning with news from the long age of man.

Surfeit, sickly, noisy… still hungry. Still scraping.

Shake off the world-fury -- its claws retract reluctant

To the stronghold of still, I stumble;

mercy meets me on the floorboards.

Here no eloquence but gravity,

no spin but the kind creep of day.

The word breathes silent and winks at me, "okay".

Return the uneven songs,

running past the kitchen door,

up the rough-barked limbs,

blinking with baby eyes at the redwood ceilings.

Return the echoes,

shimmer songs of planet paths,

up the pressureless heights of affection and wisdom,

where you threw the breath of life into us, hard as a baseball to a glove.

And I coughed. And your likeness flew out like spark. Unsteady but unmistakeable.

And the adversary ground his teeth.

Sing again. Word of stars, word of flesh. No one hears but everything arrives.

What I Can Learn from Judas

Judas was a disappointed follower of Jesus. Jesus did not do what he had pinned his hopes on him doing. He wasn't a casual disciple, but a zealot for the restoration of his oppressed nation; to some he would have been a hero. He no doubt was one of Jesus' tight gang, doing crazy miracles, getting his mind blown by his proximity to Someone with massive stage presence. But I think Judas ultimately required the exchanges of power that show tangible advancement; perhaps this is why he took money from the poor box, and why in his frustration he sold Jesus for gold. It was too much for him to wait for a kingdom that seems to work ploddingly and frustratingly through inglorious moments of mercy among the least remarkable in the crowd. Not how he wanted to spend his valuable life. What cuts close to home is the narrow place between passionate hope and passionate bitterness. The more deeply I care and invest, the more vindictive I can become. Only one of the Twelve could betray with a kiss. This is all the more reason to practice examining if I am following Jesus for who he is or Jesus for who I want him to be.

Love Through the End

"Because of the increase of wickedness, the love of most will grow cold, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved. And this gospel of the kingdom will be preached in the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come." Jesus in Matthew 24

There is a context for the evil we live in; there was a beginning and an end is approaching. With each horrific event, we are driven to sear our hearts in either fear or bitterness until, as Jesus prophesied, love grows cold. That is the end game of evil, in all its devices of killing, stealing and destroying. If we lose our love, no amount of gun control will be enough to save us. So, strengthen one another in love that endures all things. Mourn with those who mourn. Keep doing good. Love our enemies, and live like people watching for the ending, holding out for home.

"No power of hell, no scheme of man, can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or calls me home, Here in the power of Christ I'll stand." (Sung beautifully by Christina Grimmie, the young woman who was killed last week and who is, nonetheless, one saved by Love)

To what do I answer?

All idolatry is slavery, because to be kept by anything less than God is to be diminished. Wise and majestic elephants jingling bells for ringmasters. Lions pacing against the glass. Captive beauty is prostitution. In my aunt’s family, typical local Chinese, the daughters weren’t called by name, but by number. My dear aunt answers to “A-sup” or “Suppie” — Number Ten. While culturally common for that generation, what an illustration of diminishment. To be counted but not named. Collected.

To be named is to be distinguished, expressed as a unique value and glory. How different God’s kingdom is; the scriptures have constant promises of our names. Jesus is forever giving his people names, even affectionate nicknames like the "Sons of Thunder" (in my mind akin to "you wascally wabbits!"). After his resurrection in the garden, he says, “Mary!” and only then she recognized him. Just prior to Peter’s trial of testing, Jesus speaks with compassion and urgency, “Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift each of you like wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith will not fail…” Talk about Jesus imparting personal value and belief in an individual. Our captors never do that.

Reach

The love of another makes growth meaningful, desirable. It magically powers the effort of transformation. Take the sunflower. She pulls away from the wall and reaches for her full height, inwardly impelled in response to the sun’s favor.

I'm no longer fascinated by my expansion for my own sake, any more than my son is interested in doing fractions and word problems. What’s the point? I got my degrees and my awards, and I learned that I am, after all, still pretty small.  I’m a temporary rush of membraned energy, a phlegmy speck in an unfathomable universe of coherent complexity. I simply can’t