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Wednesday's Word: On Fire

6/6/2012

 
Once upon a time…
     In a galaxy far, far away… 
            
         Tell me a story, sister, so as to pass the waking parts of the night…

                In  the beginning…

All great stories introduce us to  wonder.  We are invited to  adventure, mystery and distant lands.  At the same time, all great stories also contain  elements of the familiar: the  faithful friend, the jealous retainer, the beautiful dreamer, the wicked  step-parent, the hateful villain.  Finally, the peasant becomes the princess; evil is defeated, and all live  happily ever after.  
God’s stories are no different: the bride will be rescued and taken to  the kingdom. The peasant will become a princess and we will live happily ever  after.  The evil that lurks in the  shadows and destroys all that is good and right in the world will be  defeated.  It will happen—because  the story of God tells me that this is so. 
          
Yet simply reading His stories is not enough.  I must be bold enough to tell and to live in His stories.   If I want to learn how to pray:  I must place myself in the Garden of Getsemane.   If I want to feel God’s love: I will put myself in Jesus’ arms and become  as His child, receiving His blessing.   If I want to experience His joy: I will stand next to Mary Magdelene was  she cries “Rabboni!”

If I ever wonder whether or not God cares for us,  we should place ourselves at the foot of the cross.   If I am feeling as if I’ve failed Him:  I will stand with Peter in the  courtyard and then run to Jesus from the shore. If I’m angry about injustice: I  will live in the story of the temple cleansing, understanding that God’s anger is for His own.   

I will find myself in God’s story.  I will see myself as a part of his  great drama.  I will live with  wonder, adventure, and hope in the happily ever  after.

The  story is told of the ancient desert fathers that Abba Lot went to see Abba  Joseph complaining that his spiritual disciplines rought little  satisfaction and less power.  According to the tale, he said, “Abba,  as far as I can, I say my little office, I fast a little, I pray and meditate, I  live in peace and as far as I can I purify my thoughts. What else can I do?”  Then the old man stood up and stretched his hands toward heaven; his fingers  became like ten lamps of fire and he said to him, "If you will, you can become  all flame.” 
 
As we extend our hearts to God and place  ourselves in His story, let us become His flames: flames to encourage; flames to  strengthen our flagging faith;   flames to lighten another’s burden; flames to set the world on fire. 

Let our stories join with His in extending  light to a broken and dark and lonely world.

Light a fire today:   tell God’s story.  
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A God Who Tells Tales

3/2/2012

 
My God is a storyteller.  It's no mistake, then, that the Bible I read is mostly stories:  Stories that make us laugh and cry, gasp and giggle. We read of kings and shepherds, prophets and prostitutes, warriors and widows.  We see how God relates to people.

Take, for example, the story of Jesus and the woman at the well.  (John 4)  Instead of condemning or judging the woman, Jesus speaks to her. Here is a God who accepts me.  Likewise, when Jesus sees the widow of Nain grieving over the body of her child, the story tells us that He "had compassion" for her. So, He raises her only son from the dead (Luke 7).  Here is a God who understands my pain and is moved by my tears.  My Bible's stories help me to understand my God.   

It's not suprising, is it, that we learn about others by hearing their stories?  We learn about families and failures, loves and losses.  We gain friends because we are able to share our stories with others.   In the same way, we grow closer to God through reading His stories.

Why is it, then, that when we hear God's stories, we want to explain them, not just experience them?  We want to place them into theological structures:  christology, soteriology, trinitarianism, ecclesiology, pneumotology.  But our God doesn't want us to dissect his heart, He wants us to feel it.

Why not try it?  Read God's stories.  Experience His pain and ponder His passion. Hear His heart beat.  

You will find that it beats in time with your own.

    
 

Lent for the Rest of Us

2/21/2012

 
"We'll probably need white ashes for you guys."  It was the priest's attempt to be amusing.  He wasn't. My brother and I had transferred to a predominantly white parochial school. I was 11; my brother was 9.  We were feeling lost and disconnected in this place--urban immigrants who didn't know the language or the strange suburban customs. We had walked to our former school. We had to ride 3 buses to get to the new one. My grandmother had been the unofficial class mother at our former school. She was not welcome in the new one.  Life had changed.  I thought that, at least, Lent would be the same.  It wasn't.

As "low church" Protestants in a Catholic world, we had always felt as if we were on the outside looking in.  But it never seemed to matter much before--not until that first Ash Wednesday.   We were reminded, using the church's liturgy, that we were not welcome, that we did not belong.

I must confess, it took me many years to let go of the anger and the hurt that the priest imposed on me with those ashes.  Many Ash Wednesdays have passed since that day, but since that day I have since been strangely comforted by those same ancient words:  "Remember that you are dust, and unto dust you shall return."  So I mourn for that priest--who spent the next several years making equally insensitive comments to us.  I mourn for the church, and how we fail to embrace those who do not look like us.  I mourn for the hate and the violence that have invaded our world and robbed us of innocence and kindness and joy. I mourn for my own myopic vision of the faith and ask God to forgive me.  Wednesday's ashes remind me that God is not finished with me, nor is He finished with the church. He has given us another chance.

Tomorrow, I will mourn. But I will also rejoice that Ash Wednesday's repentance will lead to Resurrection Sunday's victory.  That's what Lent means for me.  That's what it means for those who do not have the tradition, yet we embrace its significance.  That's what Lent is for the rest of us.

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