During this year's Advent season, I decided to take a break from posting on Blogger, as well as penning new articles for Catholic365. It wasn't so much that I had no ideas, as it seems I constantly have new ideas running a race around the track of my mind. No, it was more that I felt this deep need for silence.
The season began with a hectic rush of "go here, run there, do this, fix that" in a crazy pace of non-stop action. I came down with a painful, energy-robbing sinus infection. Advent was not starting off well.
The second Sunday of Advent, though, brought me to the silence. We attended the annual evening of "Lessons and Carols" at our diocesan seminary. It was deep, beautiful nourishment for my soul. In the midst of the words of Scripture--promising our Lord's birth--and the lyrics and melodies of the carols and instrumental harmonies...God brought a sweet, holy silence into my heart. The night began in quiet darkness. Then, slowly but methodically, the candles in the room were lit. The prophecy of Isaiah 9, being fulfilled in Matthew 4, came to my mind:
"that what was spoken by the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:
'The land of Zeb′ulun and the land of Naph′tali,
toward the sea, across the Jordan,
Galilee of the Gentiles—
the people who sat in darkness
have seen a great light,
and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death
light has dawned.' ” Matthew 4:14-16
I couldn't shake the feeling that these concepts were meant to be the theme of my own Advent meditations: silence, darkness, and then, the great Light.
Imagine that quiet night on the hillsides outside Bethlehem. It seemed a night like every other: shepherds watching sheep, taking turns guarding the flock, and preparing for the next day's task of herding. The silence suddenly exploding with light and sound, as angels appeared and announced the birth of the long-awaited Messiah.
Though a night filled with the noisy sounds of a busy town (overcrowded with pilgrims due to the census), a stable filled with the silence, with only the occasional bleating of a sheep, the lowing of a cow, the crunch of an animal chewing its late-night meal...then the cries of a young mother-to-be in the throes of labor. The voice of a newborn trying out His new lungs. A true Light in the quiet of a darkened barn.
As we walk into the new year, may the moments that changed history on that night so long ago, change your history as well. Let the silence reign, then listen to the voice of the Child, crying out and making the darkness a new place of light.
I think we've all had that aroma-memory moment. It's similar to the music-memory moment. (You know the one. You're in the middle of a store, hear a song on the in-store music, and a flood of images fill your mind.) Aroma-memories are so amazing, aren't they? While walking behind an older woman recently, a waft of her perfume caressed my senses. Suddenly, I saw my grandmother's face so clearly. It was a sweet moment.
Fall is like aroma-memory overload for me. There are so many crazy-good memories associated with the fragrance of the fallen leaves, the bonfires, the pumpkin-scented candles...
Today, I got to have one of those memories. We were in apple harvest overload in our house. I had purchased a couple of bags of apples at the grocery store a few weeks ago. Only days later, I decided to take a trip to the local orchard, and brought home a "large" bag of seconds. (These are great apples, and always a mix of varieties.) We've eaten a lot of apples, but...my refrigerator overfloweth. This evening, I took the opportunity to downgrade our stock to "slightly full" by making some applesauce.
I've made applesauce a couple of different ways in the past. But today was the "best" way, as I relived memories.
For about four years, we lived in an area of the country fondly known as the U.P. For those of you who are wondering, "WHAT?!" Those letters stand for "Upper Peninsula," and it is the northernmost part of Michigan. It is a land of forests, waterfalls, beaches, shores along the Great Lakes, and snow by the ton. It is beautiful and wonderful and breathtaking.
During our time there, a sweet friend would occasionally gift us with a tub of her homemade applesauce. My husband absolutely LOVES applesauce. (Most of us eat a small serving. He eats it by the bowl. I am not kidding.) Well, Myrna's applesauce was the most amazing concoction he had ever tasted. A whipped topping container-full would disappear within two meals (or less).
After we moved back to troll land (another U.P. reference), we had a very prolific apple tree in our backyard. I couldn't stand seeing all those apples go to waste, or worse yet, be destroyed by wasps and bees. I made a quick call to Myrna. "How do I make your famous applesauce?"
She replied with her usual humble chuckle, and quietly explained the process. The thing about great cooks, though, is that they have learned by the "doing." Trying to describe it over the phone was like describing a great work of art to someone who cannot see...words fail. She did her best to help this culinarily-challenged young mom understand the process. But there was one major piece of kitchen equipment missing: the apple grinder.
I asked if I could possibly use another utensil? Again, she laughed and said, "Well, I've never done it any other way!" I figured I could try, though.
Well, being a mom of two young, energetic boys, my applesauce project was delayed a few days. During that time, I received a curious-looking package in the mail. From? Of course, Myrna. She added a note saying she had an "extra" apple grinder, and thought maybe I could use it.
I have never treasured anything more. What a kind, thoughtful gesture!
So this afternoon, as I turned my surplus into savory applesauce, the warm, homey scent of the fruit filled my kitchen. I reminisced about the lovely woman who made this moment possible. I ground those apples into a smooth, creamy blend of flavors.
My applesauce will never be as tasty as Myrna's, but the memories are still as sweet.
I haven't heard this song in many, many years, but the words came to my mind today.
If you've never heard it, check out the link below (they modernized the words a bit, but it's still pretty much the same).
The basic idea is this: Here I am, Lord, needing prayer. Just little ol' me. It's not someone else. It's me! I can't speak for all the others, Lord, but I know I need prayer!
The beautiful thing about this song is that it's descriptive of every single one of us. We are standing in the need of prayer. Whether our day is full of joy or sorrow, we are still in need of prayer.
I often forget that simple concept. It's so much easier for me to pray for others than for myself. People share their prayer needs with me on a regular basis. I am not one of those, "I'll-pray-for-you-but-not-until-I-see-you-again-and-remember-I'm-supposed-to-pray-for-you" kind of individuals. I take the entrustment of others' prayer requests very seriously.
Don't sit there reading this and think, "What a sweet, kind lady! How wonderful of you to do this for others." Because it's not a fair assessment.
Yes, praying for others is a great thing to do. I'm not sorry I do that.
But that's the problem.
I often don't pray for or about myself. For long periods of time. (Usually several days in a row.) So, you might be thinking, "Well, that's good, right? It's very unselfish to pray for others and not yourself."
Maybe. But probably not.
It's called pride.
You see, if I'm always lifting the needs of others, and never my own, then I have less time to allow the Holy Spirit to "search me...and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!" (Psalm 139:23-24) If there is no searching and trying and knowing, then there is no finding of wickedness and walking in a new way.
So that creates another problem. Because God already knows of my wickedness. He has already peered into the deep recesses of who I am and what I have done. It's really ME who hasn't searched, known, and seen. It's ME who hasn't been listening. It's ME who is avoiding repentance.
Pride and denial are a lethal combination.
Though the words may seem simple and catchy, there is so much truth to the song. "It's me, it's me, O Lord, standing in the need of prayer. Not my brother, not my sister, but it's me, O Lord, standing in the need of prayer."
I will still pray for you. But I also need to pray for me.
It has happened. Again. Another troubled person has taken out their pain on others, leaving behind distraught teachers, parents, friends. There is yet another community trying to sort out the reasons and work through the agony of a loss beyond comprehension. It will never make sense. There will always be more questions than answers. A tragedy of indescribable proportions leaves a deep wound.
I have heard those in the news media trying to give their own insights. Some are wondering why it is that "only" 10 were killed and there is an uproar, when over 300 people have been killed in Chicago in 2015, and we hear little about it?
Why was a 5-month old baby killed yesterday, as the car she was in was hit by bullets meant for others? She is one of several victims in a series of shootings in Cleveland. It only proves that the size of a town or city does not cause or prevent violence.
My question is, "Why isn't there outrage at every...single...violent...death?"
I won't pretend to have the answers. Because, honestly, there isn't a simple one. No matter how much it's analyzed and discussed, investigated and examined, the truth is, we will never know all the "why's" of such brutality. Why is it that we live in a world that sees life of so little consequence that shooting others is a commonplace way of expending our rage? Why is it that babies are aborted every day by the hands of medical professionals who were sworn to save lives, not take them?
(Some have said that legalizing abortion made an improvement in our society. I can't even begin to see any reasoning for that. How can killing innocents ever improve anything? Safe abortions are still abortions.)
Some would say the answer is more gun control. Statistically, though, that doesn't pan out. Chicago and New York City have some of the tightest laws on gun ownership, yet still have very high rates of shootings per capita. So to this I say, what we might need are more ways to keep guns away from criminals. I don't know the answer, though. I don't claim to know how that can be done.
Some would say the answer is more security in schools. Well, that might help with school shootings. But what about the streets? What about businesses where an irate employee returns to take revenge? There are not enough security guards to place in every business in every town on every street of the country.
Some would say we need less prescriptions for mental health and more counseling. That also might help. I don't know much on this topic. I do know that the old days of simply institutionalizing anyone with mental issues are a thing of the past, and that great strides have been made in understanding the human psyche. How to deal with all the current issues, I have no idea.
This I do know. The more we separate people from the Church, and foster hatred for anything the Church stands for/against, the more we will see these types of things happen. I do know that millions of people across the centuries have found hope in Christ, when all hope seemed lost. I do know that the Church provides a place of refuge for the lost, lonely, and downtrodden. I do know there are many amazing and wonderful Church-provided ministries that help those with depression and other mental issues. I know that our nation needs to return to trusting in the Creator of all and following in His ways.
I do know that we need to pray for our nation. This I know.
Like so many others in our country, the events of 9/11/01 will forever be emblazoned in my mind: The initial shock of the report that a plane had hit a building in New York City. The horror of watching live TV as another plane hit the tower adjacent to the first. The continuing agony as I learned of more hijackings, more downed planes, and the loss of so many lives. Anguish as people began leaping from the infernos. Overwhelming grief as hour after hour of coverage unfolded: firemen and other rescuers dying to save lives, heroic passengers giving their lives to protect others on the ground...and on and on it went. The angry realization that someone plotted these attacks in the name of honoring God and their religion. The feeling of unity with our entire nation, as all citizens were called to prayer. Even in the midst of tragedy, America was at her finest, standing strong against terrorism.
But now, fourteen years later, what have we learned from 9/11? Have the lessons from that tragic day really sunk into our national conscience? What have we, as "regular" people done with 9/11 in our daily lives?
Please don't misunderstand me. I believe that life must go on. I believe we must look beyond the tragedy and show the world that we cannot be stopped by such events. But what have we learned? There are three things that were in the forefront in the weeks and days after we were attacked, that I hope we can and will continue to foster in our own lives, and in the lives of generations to come.
1. Faith.
It was the first thing people said in response: We need to pray.
Prayer vigils sprang up everywhere. There was no cry of "separation of Church and state," because we were all too busy praying to argue about whether or not that was a good idea. Churches were packed to capacity. Prayers were sent up at national sporting events, and no one cried, "Foul!"
Are we still praying for our country and our leaders? Or are we too busy criticizing them? Are we continuing to learn our faith so that we have hope to share with the world? Are we still entreating God to bless America?
2. Freedom.
Patriotic clothing became popular again. We hadn't seen that much red, white, and blue since 1976. Flags were waving from front porches all over the nation. Our military once again received the honor due them for their sacrifices. Parents were once again proud of their sons and daughters who signed up to go fight on foreign soil.
The first responders (emergency personnel of every agency) were lauded as heroes. Their daily work became national headlines as we saw them work tirelessly and witnessed them forfeit their own lives for the sake of others.
In short, we were once again proud to be Americans. We were all standing arm-in-arm, no matter what color our skin, no matter what our station in life. Young and old, rich and poor, men and women, children and teens...we were together in showing the world that we would not be defeated.
But are we now, a mere 14 years later? Or are we more divided than ever? Are we standing behind those who defend us, whether in our own county, or in other lands?
3. Forgiveness.
One thing more. This is a tough one, too. Maybe the toughest of the three.
I know this is no secret, but I am a Christian. And yet, I will readily admit what I mentioned above: After the initial shock wore off, I was really, really angry. The "let's go get those Muslims" mindset took hold of me. When media sources began spouting their politically correct mantras, I was even more incensed. A wrong had been enacted agianst our country, and we needed to make it right. I still believe there is sometimes a cause for "just" war. Those who commit such atrocities do need to be held accountable and brought to justice. War crimes are just that--crimes.
But just as I know a very small number of pro-life people go around shooting abortion doctors and bombing clinics , and 99% of Christians are not like the folks from Westboro, I also know there are thousands of Muslim citizens in this country and around the world who were just as traumatized as the rest of us when those buildings and airplanes came down. The truth is, there were Muslims in the World Trade Center buildings, too. Their lives were taken just as senselessly as the rest, whether they were Jews, Christians, atheists, Buddhists...or whatever. The terrorists didn't pick and choose.
I also know that Jesus didn't die just so we can forgive our friends when they wrong us. He died for every...single...person. He taught us to forgive every...single...person. No exceptions.
This lesson rings so true, too, if you think about the "why" of 9/11. Really, isn't bitterness, anger, hatred, and unforgiveness the motive behind the incidents that occurred? If we continue in those traits, aren't we perpetuating the mindset we say we loathe?
And so I leave you with the words of the One who had the most reason NOT to forgive, and yet chose to offer it to the whole human race anyway. Truly, in light of Jesus' sacrifice, how can we NOT forgive?
Luke 6:27-36 (RSVCE):
27 “But I say to you that hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28 bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. 29 To him who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from him who takes away your cloak do not withhold your coat as well. 30 Give to every one who begs from you; and of him who takes away your goods do not ask them again.31 And as you wish that men would do to you, do so to them.
32 “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. 33 And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. 34 And if you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. 35 But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the selfish. 36 Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.
Well, friends, it's that time of year again. Our oldest son has begun his second year of college. Our younger son is in his junior year of high school. (When I began this blog, they were 10 and 7!) We're not quite "empty nesters," but are feeling the beginnings of what that will look like. If you have children, nieces, nephews, grandchildren, or close friends that have children, you can probably relate. They grow up so quickly. Those toddler years seem interminable. Then, suddenly, you're in the teen years and dealing with that new world of raging hormones and roller coaster emotions. Blink your eyes, and they're turning 18--joining the world of adulthood.
Today is the Feast of Saint Monica. If you're not familiar with her story, she was an incredibly faithful servant of God. She was a Christian, but for whatever reason was given in marriage to a pagan man named Patricius. He was a man given to fits of anger, and lived a very profligate lifestyle (read: he knew a lot of women). They had a son named Augustine, who was very intelligent, but not inclined to follow in his mother's footsteps when it came to faith. There were probably at least three other children born to this marriage, but very little is known of Augustine's siblings.
Monica chose to remain steadfast in her relationship with God. This included a life of prayer for both her husband and son. Patricius died when Augustine was 17 years old, having requested baptism about one year prior to his passing.
His eldest son was in pursuit of knowledge, but wasn't particularly discerning in the sources of his education. At the age of 29, he moved to Rome, and then Milan. His persistent mother followed after him, hoping to have a positive influence on him even in the midst of such a perverse society. The bishop of Milan, Ambrose, became her spiritual director.
"It is not possible that the son of so many tears should perish."
As she poured out her heart to him, he gave her wise advice: rely on tears and prayer. Eventually, Augustine became acquainted with Ambrose as well. Through his influence, the young intellectual slowly worked his way toward God. His restless heart found its way back to its Maker. Monica's prayers had been answered in a pround way.
Augustine's writings have become a great resource for Christians throughout history. To say his influence upon theology and catechesis have been remarkable is really an understatement. The prayers of Saint Monica have not only affected her prodigy, but the Church at large throughout the multitude of generations since their time (in the 300's). We owe an incredible debt of gratitude to Monica for her persistence in prayer and indefatigable efforts to evangelize her son.
Which brings me back to my original thought. My sons are growing into men. They do not want their "mommy" following them around (Monica listened to Ambrose on that issue, thankfully) and telling them what to do. And honestly, that is not my role at this stage in their lives. (Well, as it applies to our oldest, especially. Our younger son is still just 16...) But, following the example of Saint Monica, I should instead place them constantly before the Lord in prayer, asking Him to use all the things my husband and I (along with the other godly men and women they have known throughout their lives) have taught them. He alone can take those lessons and shape my sons into the men he has called them to be. While our influence is never completely gone, it is time to place them in the hands of God and step back.
But, as I often tell them: I'll always be your mom. :)
Take a good look at my profile picture (but not too closely!), and you will immediately realize that I am white, and come from European lineage. There's a bit of English, German, Scottish, Irish--and probably several other nationalities--blended into my DNA. I have honestly never sat down and mused on what that means for me as a person. It is just "what it is."
Having said that, my interaction with those of other races was quite limited until after I graduated from high school. (And honestly, I never really thought of any of my schoolmates as being anything other than that, no matter the color of their skin.)
One of my first memories of encountering an African American child was quite positive. While visiting a church, the only girl who spoke to me in Sunday school was a sweet girl, who just happened to have darker skin than I did. She was so kind. I will never forget that gesture.
As I grew older and became more aware of racial discrimination, I was appalled. The history of slavery in our country was beyond my comprehension. Hitler's stance against Jews, anyone with any mental or physical infirmities, and anyone with darker skin, was a hatred I could not fathom. In my mind, everyone should love everyone, and that was the end of it.
While in college, I met and became friends with students from all over the country and the world. I truly enjoyed the interaction, as my worldview began to grow and expand. I attended a church with a wonderful mixture of races. After our marriage, we spent many years ministering in Detroit and the surrounding area. Again, our church life was made more full by the variety of skin colors and heritages, all blended together by our love for Christ.
A couple of months ago, I became aware of a racism that, again, is beyond my understanding. While I recognize that there are many stereotypes, I can only conclude that there is no sound reasoning or logic behind any of them. People are people, created in the image of God. Some choose to live as a child of God; others, as a rebellious son or daughter. Skin color doesn't determine the choice.
My latest insight came during a presentation on immigration issues. If I were to sum up my knowledge of the matter prior to that day, I would say it was very, very limited. The news media has played the issue as an "us against them" saga, with those being born within our borders being on the positive side. As I listened to the legal aspects, I was still trying to sort it all out: why should those born in the United States have open arms to those of other nations, and how does that affect each citizen? While still mulling this over, a young woman was asked to tell her story. That's when it all changed for me.
She told of growing up in a Central American country, where gang activity is the norm. Her childhood was also marred by the violence of her father against herself and her mother. At the young age of 17, she could no longer bear this environment. She offered to help her mother leave as well, but was refused. Through a contact in the United States, she made arrangements to make her way north. Sadly, the person who was paid to transport her did not have her best interest in mind. After being locked in a house for 2-3 days, she escaped.
She again contacted her U.S. friend, who handled the details of her move here. She later married this man. Unfortunately, his temperament was similar to that of her father. To protect their two young children, she again made an escape. Thankfully, she made contact with individuals in the Cleveland area who could assist her. She is making progress, and is so grateful for all the help she has received.
Now I realize there are immigration laws, and there are legal ways immigrants can become citizens. However, I also know that the means of procuring that citizenship is very limited. In the state of Ohio, the only court for immigration and citizenship is in Cleveland. Most of the immigrant population is in the Columbus area (a drive of over two hours) and Tuscarawas County (a drive of over 1 1/2 hours). Keeping in mind that most immigrants do not own motorized vehicles, this presents a major obstacle. When one also realizes that court appointments are usually mailed only days before the scheduled appearance, another large barrier is obvious. Tack on the added expenses of bus fare, limited knowledge of English, and confusing, ever-changing laws, the hurdles become higher and higher.
Previous to this meeting, I also did not realize that being in the country without documentation is also a civil matter, not a criminal one. The only time it becomes criminal is when an individual is committing crimes (murder, slave trade, drug transportation, etc.). Another fact that many do not realize is the current surge of deportation. And if those being deported have American-born children, the children are placed in the foster care system.
I don't know all the answers. I do know that my ancestors came to this country to live in peace, as did the ancestors of most of European descent. Obviously, the citizens whose families came due to slavery did not come for that reason, but were afforded that right as changes were made following the Civil War, and, more recently, due to the civil rights movement in the 1960's. It is a glaring truth that the rights of some are still supersceded by the prejudice of others. It is also a fact that many do not desire anyone new coming to our country. Again, I don't know all the answers.
I do know that I met the face of immigration, and a victim racial prejudice...and she is beautiful.
The past month has been a busy one for our family. During this time, our oldest son came home after his first year in college. Other memorable events:
Nine men were ordained as permanent deacons in the Diocese of Cleveland. This is the first class in five years. A very exciting milestone in our diocese!
Four men were ordained priests as well. We continue to pray for vocations to the priesthood.
My husband's godson received his first Communion. It seems like just yesterday he was baptized!
A young man from our parish received his vestments, as he continues to discern a vocation as a Franciscan Friar Minor.
A young woman from our parish began her time as a postulant with the Children of Mary, a community of nuns near Columbus, Ohio.
My husband finished his second year of formation as a deacon.
Our youngest son is wrapping up his sophomore year of high school.
I'm preparing my piano students for our first-ever recital.
Somewhere in there, we managed a trip to Michigan, too!
I will endeavor to be more faithful in posting to my blog AFTER the recital! Thanks for hanging in there with me through the busy times of life.
The weekend's theme was "The Better Part," taken from the passage in Luke 10, where Jesus visited the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus.
Without going into great detail, I had passed along the link to the music of my "journey song." Our retreat coordinator, Mary, quickly decided it should become the theme song of our retreat.
And so, for the first time, I had the privilege of singing it with other women, and hearing their voices join with mine to call on Jesus...to take us, and shape us, as we sat at His feet.
If you have been following my blog over the years, we have an item of unfinished business.
In this post from 2006, I wrote a song called "At Your Feet." The words were posted, but I did not have the technology to share the music.
So, for better or for worse, here it is...!
Mary's Song (At Your Feet)
I walk into Your presence, Lord, I fall down on my face As I come before You, Lord, I marvel at Your love and grace.
Refrain: At Your feet, I find a place of perfect peace At Your feet, I find a place of sweet release At Your feet, I've finally found that I am home So take me Lord; shape me, Lord While I sit at Your feet
So many voices calling me Can cause my heart to stray But when I listen to Your voice I know You'll show the better way... (back to Refrain)
For anyone who reads my blog with any regularity (and I hope there are at least a couple of people out there!), you may have noticed my lack of posts. If you didn't, well, okay. :o)
Our church organist, who has faithfully played at daily Mass for the past 30 years or so, took a nasty fall a few weeks ago. In the process, he broke a bone in one of his hips. Though no surgery was required, complete immobilization has been prescribed for proper healing. I am his substitute, so have been playing more frequently. In the process of that, my hands have received quite a thorough work-over. Typing hasn't been as easy as I'd like. That's all.
So, to make up for lost time, I have been pondering something over the past 24 hours. Blowing the dust off the computer, warming up the joints, and away we go....!
_________________________________________________
Things that amaze me...
Sunrises - Over the Kansas plains, over the mountains of Colorado, over the Great Lakes, over the hills of Ohio, over the forests of Michigan, over the Straits of Mackinac, over the skyline of Detroit or Cleveland...it's all good
Sunsets - Ditto from above
Raindrops
Rainbows
Storm clouds
Sunny skies
Faces of newborn babies
Faces of new parents
Faces of small animals
Great, blue whales
Tiny little jellyfish
Elephants and giraffes
Baby gerbils
Tears of joy
The laughter of a child
The knowing chuckle of an older adult
The first snowflake of winter
The last leaf of fall
The first budding flower of spring
The mirage of water in the midst of highway heatwaves in summer
A blowing field of ripened wheat
The smell of quickly-growing corn on a muggy summer day
The smell of freshly cut hay
The smell of a newly plowed field
The fragrance of rain-washed skies
The longevity of marriages held together by sheer will, love, and the hand of God
The stubbornness of a young child
The stubbornness of an elderly person
Hugs that heal
Quiet moments in God's presence
Beautiful, ornate cathedrals
Simple, small chapels
Artwork that comes from the soul of the artist
Photographs that capture moments of historical events
Photographs that capture simple daily occurrences
Poetry that makes the heart sing
Songs that eloquently sing of God's majesty
Songs that speak from the reality of life
Songs that use simple, straightforward lyrics
A beautiful symphony
A simple melody
Honesty
The love of my family and friends
The love of a stranger
The wonder in the face of a child, as they see their first fireworks
The wonder in the face of an adult, as they see their millionth fireworks
How awesome is the ocean? I mean, miles and miles of nothing but water. And under that water, miles and miles of plant, fish, and animal life, most of which have never been observed by human eyes. Myriads of microscopic organisms floating, swimming, living, reproducing, and dying--totally beyond the reach of scientific observance. The word "amazing" doesn't even begin to cover it, does it?
Wouldn't you love your faults, failures, and sins to be completely absorbed into all that immensity, never to be found again? Never to be looked upon by mankind?
That's the beauty of God's forgiveness. When we confess our sins, "He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (I John 1:9) It is gone, as it were, into the "depths of the sea."
Don't wallow in it. Let it go, and let God cast it away.
I'm taking a step away from the daily Scripture meditation today. I want to share something a bit different with my readers.
For the past several weeks, I have been hearing about a documentary called, "The Dropbox." I first heard about it from Focus on the Family. The promotional clips showed a Korean pastor caring for infants and children in Seoul, South Korea. The children they showed were mostly little ones with disabilities: Down syndrome, birth defects, etc. I felt a tug at my heart, and wanted to know more. There is a special place in my heart for Korea, as my dad is a Korean War veteran. There is another place reserved for those precious children who are abandoned or unwanted due to perceived abnormalities.
Tonight, as we entered the theater, we were unsure if it was even being shown. There was no sign of it on the marquee. However, as soon as we were inside the doors, a woman asked if we wanted two tickets? She had purchased four tickets to see "The Dropbox," but two family members were unable to attend. Did we want their tickets? We tried to pay her, but she wouldn't hear of it. Wow. I think we were meant to be there!
The theater was fairly full when the presentation began. It was an unusual viewing, as it was not for entertainment purposes. Yet here were dozens of people, gathering together to listen and watch...to learn.
The movie was directed by a man named Brian Ivie. The background of the making of "The Dropbox" can be found at LifeNews.com. What began as a project for the Sundance Film Festival became a life-changing journey for Mr. Ivie. Meeting Pastor Lee and his wife was an experience Brian Ivie will never forget.
How can I describe seeing newborn infants dropped at this unassuming man's door? Children who are unwanted, unplanned, or somehow seen as an inconvenience, left in the care of a loving stranger who will put them up for adoption, or adopt them himself...left in a dropbox.
The culture in South Korea still expects young women to remain chaste, in a sense. That is, if a teenager becomes pregnant, she is seen as a "loose" woman, chastised by her peers, and often dismissed from school. Though we often see single, teen moms in the United States, this is not the norm in South Korea. Children with disabilities are too difficult, too expensive, and often looked upon with shame. Unplanned pregnancies are seen as a disgrace. Pastor Lee, however, sees each child as a gift from God. He and his wife have a birth child with severe physical problems. Through raising him, God opened their eyes to the gift of each life--whether deemed perfect by society or not.
This is a message so needed by our culture. Children are not possessions to be kept or thrown away at a whim. They are each a creation of God. Each of them has a purpose and a place, if only given the chance. To take that a step further, each human--no matter how young or old--has a purpose until the day God calls them home. To shorten that life by any means is to ignore their dignity and humanity.
If you see one movie this year, this is the one. Be ready to have your eyes opened, your heart challenged, and your life changed.
"What do you think? If a man has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go in search of the one that went astray? And if he finds it, truly, I say to you, he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray. So it is not the will of my Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish." Matthew 18:12-14
The focus of the Scripture readings in Lent are repentance and forgiveness. Everything we do throughout these 40 days is a preparation for Holy Week, as we remember Christ's death and resurrection. In light of all He has done for us, we take a more intentional look at the things which separate us from the intimate relationship He so desires.
Often, we discover small things that have grown over time. Things that are generally okay or even good can become distractions to our passion for Christ. Like the sheep in this parable, we find a blade of grass--only a few feet from the herd--that looks delectable. Oh, but there is a patch over there that appears to be even tastier! Soon, we find ourselves far from the herd, off in our own little wilderness, and quite distant from the Shepherd. Thankfully, in His ardent love for us, our Shepherd seeks us. He actively pursues us along our wandering path, until He discovers our whereabouts. Whether we're in a cave, have fallen down a slippery slope, or we're caught in the thorns of a wild berry bush, He works to free us from that situation. Once we are found, there is rejoicing! He doesn't stand by and say, "Well, too bad. See if you can get yourself out of this mess!"
In the path of thy judgments, O Lord, we wait for thee; thy memorial name is the desire of our soul. 9 My soul yearns for thee in the night, my spirit within me earnestly seeks thee. For when thy judgments are in the earth, the inhabitants of the world learn righteousness. 10 If favor is shown to the wicked, he does not learn righteousness; in the land of uprightness he deals perversely and does not see the majesty of the Lord. 11 O Lord, thy hand is lifted up, but they see it not. Let them see thy zeal for thy people, and be ashamed. Let the fire for thy adversaries consume them. 12 O Lord, thou wilt ordain peace for us, thou hast wrought for us all our works. 13 O Lord our God, other lords besides thee have ruled over us, but thy name alone we acknowledge. Isaiah 26:8-13
Key words:
wait
desire
yearn
learn
seek (earnestly)
acknowledge
These words each show an aspect of actively pursuing our relationship with God. Christianity is not a spectator sport. It's all about being on the team and participating.
Waiting may sound passive, but it is an action verb in this case. I would define it as, "A purposeful pause of anticipation." In other words, making ourselves be still to see what God has in store.
Desire is to have an appetite for God. That may sound a bit odd. Think about it, though. If our physical stomach is hungry, we feed it with something that will satisfy those gnawings in our "gut." If we allow our spiritual hunger to draw us toward God, with a desire to be satisfied, He will satiate us with Himself.
Yearning is a close relative to desire, but actually means to have a strong desire. Not so much, "I'm hungry, " but more like, "I'm starving!"
Our society's common definition of learning is to "acquire information." The meaning in this passage is far deeper. It's not only about accumulating facts, but to make those facts a part of who we are.
To earnestly seek God is again, an action. Picture it like this: You've lost one of your small children in a mall during pre-Christmas shopping. You don't stand around and watch people pass by, hoping you will eventually see your child, and all will be well. You "earnestly seek" to find them. This is what the Scripture is saying to us as well. We need to be active in our relationship with God.
Acknowledging God's name alone means we recognize Him as the ultimate authority in our lives. This also involves an active setting aside of our own agenda, and allowing His plans to be ours.
It's time to get off the bench, get in the game, and do our part!
