Shining Spirit

First you make your way slowly along a very busy, major roadway, then you turn onto a small road lined on both sides by quite un-spectacular bushes. They look hot and thirsty in the desert sun. Then you make a couple of blind turns along the narrow road until THERE IT IS! It’s an oasis in the middle of the Sonoran Desert. What a sight this must have been two hundred years ago when humans or animals came upon it and found refreshment. It’s still an attractive, natural spot where you can go for space away from Interstates and intersections. My dictionary says about an oasis: “something serving as a refuge, relief or pleasant change from what is usual, annoying, difficult, etc.”

You know the question, don’t you? Oasis. So, what’s the answer? Do you have one? Where do you go physically or mentally or spiritually? It’s a wise person who carries a map to her or his oasis, who knows the way to the place of refuge and renewal. I have several close friends with whom I share coffee or breakfast regularly. Oasis. I got a text yesterday from someone who wrote one word: “Thirsty?” I knew exactly what that meant. Oasis time at a little pub nearby. I have a book of spiritual wisdom and truth that says things like: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we (I) will not fear though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea…” And here’s the best news of all: I can turn off the busy, sometimes dangerous road, and into the oasis of Creative Quiet because Jesus has put up the direction signs, shows me the way.

Everybody needs an oasis. I hope you have one or will find one. There’s room in mine if you’re searching for rest or renewal. If you’re uncertain about directions, just sit down in a quiet corner, take a few deep breaths, and let your mind/spirit create a picture of a Shepherd in a peaceful, lush pasture, of sheep resting in the green grass, of a little stream that is peaceful and serene. Among the sheep there is one that raises his head and looks your way. That’s me! Come on over. This is the Oasis. There is always room for you here.

That’s me on the right and the Swan Goose on the left. He and his partner, Snow Goose, were away from the shoreline when my wife and I arrived. But they both came closer to say hello. No contact this time but it was nice to get a close look at the spot where the fishing hook pushed through his skin. Happily, his feathers were smooth over the spot, no sign of irritation. Maybe he was successful in “grooming” it out on his own. I was just happy to see him swimming freely, not snared again by abandoned fishing lines.

Anybody you need to check in with today? A phone call you’ve meant to make, but haven’t? One that you should make but have avoided? Maybe just a friendly “hello” to someone who could use an ounce or two of Christly compassion? Am I my brother’s/sister’s keeper? I think we both know the answer to that one.

Be blessed today so that you can bless others.

Pretend this is a third-grade classroom….Sunday School classroom. We are the students and today Teacher is going to talk about heaven and hell, how to get to one and avoid the other. And it all depends on how you treat your sister, if you do what Mom and Dad tell you to do, if you respect your elders, if you love Jesus and if you go to church. If you do all those things, you will get to heaven someday. It may be a long journey, old age, or it might be shorter because of accident or illness. But the point is, when you die you will go to heaven and be with Jesus.

I don’t have a problem with this simplistic description of a third grade Sunday School class; nine-year-olds aren’t ready for Augustine or Tillich. What saddens and troubles me is that some of us, too many of us, finished the third year in Christian education, spiritual development, and we never went back for year four and following. We’re stuck with a third-grade understanding of what it means to talk and think about the Kingdom of God. Few things are more damaging to Christianity than someone who is an advocate of third-grade theology in a post-modern world. It just doesn’t work.

One illustration: many of us in my age-range, senior citizen, learned that the Kingdom of Heaven is a “then and there” arrangement. Do good now in order to…. But there is an inherent “de-valuation” of the present in that formula. Doing good is good, but the goal is beyond now, thus making “now” a stepping stone to “then.” And I suggest that Jesus would say: “Now, wait. That’s not exactly what I meant.” The vast majority of his teaching, many would say the reason for his existence, was to announce and demonstrate that the Kingdom of God is with us, among us, over and around us, even within us. Beyond death is entirely a mystery and completely in God’s hands. Right now is our time to be seeds and signals and signs of redemptive love, fundamental justice, and genuine compassion. If we don’t live the Kingdom of God now then we will inevitably personalize the wonderful meaning of Jesus as we reach for the silver ring. I’ll get mine, you get yours, and we will end up divided, competitive, tribal and intolerant.

Sound familiar?

I’ve had my share of deeply moving moments in my life, moments that are etched into the fabric of who I am, moments that are sacred and eternal. I offer this moment as an illustration of something I have said, taught, preached about and believed to be holy since childhood. It happened yesterday.

I finished the Shining Spirit reflection about 5:30 a.m., one proposing that prayer, at its simplest and most profound, is conversational, intimate, like two friends laughing and talking as they walk along the boulevard. I picked up a book that I had checked out of our neighborhood library, and then remembered a city park nearby that I had never explored. Sue and I had driven past it the day before and decided to visit the park soon. I knew it had a small lake at its center, which meant that there just might be water birds there. Since I draw great pleasure from photographing beautiful birds, I decided, at 5:40 a.m. on this Sunday morning, to grab my camera and head toward the park. I arrived there at 6:15 a.m….looked at my watch…and found a parking spot among the few cars already there. Fishermen like to get an early start. At first I was disappointed at what I found. A few common ducks were hobbling around, one or two Grackles and at the far end of the lake, two larger birds.

I made my way toward the distant birds, knowing that both would probably fly when they saw me coming. But they didn’t. One of them, pictured above, was a Swan Goose, the other a Snow Goose. I noticed that the Swan Goose was busy grooming his feathers, head down and quite occupied with the task. The Snow Goose waited patiently in the shallow water near the shoreline. Both saw me approaching, and both seemed cautiously curious. I made it to the shoreline and about 15 feet from the pair and began to take pictures. The large Swan Goose went back to grooming. I spoke to both birds: a friendly hello and assurances that I would not hurt them. After a few minutes, both birds began to swim very slowly away from the shore and toward the center of the lake.

It was then that I saw the larger one lift his left leg out of the water and stop abruptly at the same time. Nylon fishing line was wrapped around his leg and he was unable to swim away. How long he had been captured by the line, I don’t know. I called out to him: let me help you, knowing that this wild creature would never trust a human being. And then the unexpected, the unbelievable happened.

The tethered bird turned back toward the shore and slowly, slowly approached me. By this time I had removed my socks and shoes and waded knee-deep into the lake. I stood very still as the beautiful bird came within arm’s reach and then floated to my right leg where he pressed against me. We both remained very still, waiting to see what the other would do. I reached down and touched his back, then stroked his broad chest, all the time telling him not to be afraid. The heart-stopping moment was when I gently lifted him from the water and tucked him under my right arm as I examined his leg. It took several minutes to untangle the line and he was surprisingly patient through it all. When I returned him to the water, he floated for a moment, then began to swim toward his partner. Now the bigger problem was revealed, for the fishing line, while loose from his leg, still held him captive. It rose up out of the water, a sinister, death sentence anchored by a hook through the birds skin. When he reached the end of the strong line, he turned back toward me. I could not believe that he would return to my side, but he did. I tried for several minutes to remove the hook but the barbs would not allow the hook to slide backwards. I had no knife or sharp object to cut the line.

It was then that I heard a voice behind me, coming from the shore. “Can I help?” the man asked. “Do you have a knife?” He did and he tossed it to me so I could cut the line. But the hook remained in place, above the bird’s large left wing. It had made a superficial, shallow entry but it still resisted removal. I tried again for several minutes but the bird grew restless and I finally released him to swim away with his mate. But before he left my side, just as I was releasing him for the last time, he turned his elegant head on that long neck and he gently pecked the top of my hand three times. Then they were gone.

At least he was free. I don’t think carrying the hook, given its location, would impair his flying and now he was free of the death sentence. I still can’t believe this happened. I pinch myself to wake from a remarkable dream. I drove home from the lake with the car window down, singing all the way. In that 30 minute period of my 82 years, I stood on holy ground and the presence of illogical Love proved stronger than reason. Two living creatures crossed the line of conventional normality. We connected in a way that I have talked about, taught, preached about, advocated for….but never experienced.

Until yesterday. And now I know.

I’ve been shopping online for some Prayer Knee Pads. I figure that if I take Paul seriously in 1 Thessalonians, chapter 5 where he encourages his friends to “pray without ceasing,” my knees will need some help. I’m old and my knees are tired. Maybe a cushion off the sofa? I’m thinking about this because of a brief article a friend shared with me recently, one that talked about prayer being “conversational.” You know, like those phone conversations you have sometimes with a good friend, someone you haven’t talked to in a long time and all of a sudden you realize that you’ve been talking for two hours. But what Paul is suggesting is…don’t ever hang up in your conversation with God.

If prayer for you has become routine or mere ritual or ridiculous, give this a try. Don’t buy knee pads. Buy some comfortable walking shoes and start a conversation with God as you move through the day. Cleaning the house, feeding the dog, washing the car…just have an everyday-language, simple-worded conversation. Use some common sense, though, and let some of your conversation be internal, in your mind and heart, not just out loud in the midst of a movie or the Pastor’s sermon. Conversational prayer is a wonderful idea and I hope you will consider trying it for more than one day. Let me answer two questions you want to ask: But what if God doesn’t reply? What if it’s a one-way conversation? Answer: God will and it won’t be. Number two: what if people look at me like I’m crazy? Answer: Who cares!

Beginning today, while you’re doing whatever you’re doing, tell your Friend what you’re thinking, how you feel, what you see that is beautiful or ugly, your hopes and dreams, frustrations and feelings of appreciative joy, and on and on and on and on. Conversation. “Hi, Dad; it’s me. Just wanted to talk a while…”

If yellow isn’t your favorite color, then you’ve got a problem here in Arizona. Ah, but life isn’t just about the color of something. No, it’s about character, something much deeper than surface color. So let’s take a second look at the lovely yellow flower, and when we do we realize that it is produced, nourished and resourced by a large green thing covered with long, spiney needles, sharp needles, ready to jab your leg if you get too close. Does this second look at the cactus flower invalidate its beauty, just because it happens to sit atop a big pin cushion? I don’t think so. The second look reminds me that it is a pleasure to see, especially when there are so many yellow flowers in my neighborhood. And, that if I treat it with respect, that is, if I give it space, room to just be itself, then it doesn’t have to be defensive and I don’t get pricked. And, that, like me, the cactus and its lovely yellow flower have some quirkey little traits because we are unique in this world. There are lots of other people on the planet and lots of other cactus plants with yellow flowers blooming, but there is only one of me and one of that cactus plant. When you get right down to it, it’s not fair to compare one person to another or one cactus to another. Better, I think, to acknowledge that while we may resemble others who are similar, that cactus and this person are one-of-a-kind. Quirkiness? I like to spread strawberry jam on my Egg McMuffin before I eat it and the cactus doesn’t like to be hugged. So, I will munch on my McMuffin, dripping strawberry jam, as I walk along the trail and I will say “good morning” to the flowering cactus without pushing my way into its space or judging its value to the surroundings because of the way it looks. And we will both be happy and we both will live another quirkey day.

See how this works? Isn’t yellow beautiful.

“The tongue,” what we say and how we say it, is treated in the Christian New Testament. We’re supposed to use language carefully and thoughtfully. One element of thoughtful speech is a comprehension of what you say before you say it. Get your facts straight…speak truth…know what you’re talking about before you fill the world with wordy ignorance. I wrote the following from an elementary school memory in my own life. Maybe you know someone who has had a similar experience.

Four Letter Word

“I learned a new word in school today, Mom.”
Then and right there I dropped the bomb.
I thought it sounded funny at first,
but Mom looked like she was about to burst.
Her face turned red as she caught her breath;
she appeared to be in the throes of death,
but, regaining composure, she rose from her chair,
lowered her eyes in a sinister stare:
“Who told you that word? Give me his name!”
I said, “Listen, Mom, if it’s all the same,
I’ll just say ‘I’m sorry” and we’ll let it go;
I really don’t want my friend to know
that I ratted her out. She’s a very good friend
and I don’t want our friendship to come to an end.”
Mom’s eyes got wide as she clutched her chest.
It was then I decided it might be best
to tell the truth at the cost of a friend,
and so with hope and a prayer and a sheepish grin,
I said to Mom: It was Mary Lynn.
“What!”, she exclaimed. That sweet young thing!
Sit down while I give her mother a ring.”
Well, long story short, Mary Lynn and I
made a pact and said we hoped to die
if ever again our mothers heard
the sound of that colorful four-letter word.
I still don’t know what it means.

Know what you’re talking about before you say it. Speak truth with compassion. Language, and how we use it, is so important in this diverse and divided world.

Before the birds wake to sing in welcome of the morning,
before lights shine from cottage windows,
before the streets bulge with endless streams of traffic,
before soft yellow light outlines the rim of the Santa Catalinas,
I peer into the darkness and into the Beautiful Mystery about to
find expression in song and light and movement and grandeur.
Nothing can hold back the dawn that comes as gift and
opportunity. I receive the gift with gratitude and the
opportunity with a commitment to scatter seeds of
peace along this day’s path, to walk alongside any
who suffer, and to be attentive to the Voice that calls
my name. Having done these things, I ask for a peaceful
rest when night returns, to be found in harmony with
the heartbeat of the universe. May it be so. Amen.