Shining Spirit

It was true then, and it’s certainly true now: a 12-year-old child is not capable of coping with, understanding, or surviving in a complex, often hostile environment. Lost or abandoned children are in deep trouble. So, I can understand Joseph and Mary’s anguish when they discovered that their child was missing from the caravan. As told in Luke 2, the parents searched frantically, talked to all the family members, did everything they could to locate Jesus. Don’t you know their anxiety quickly moved to heart-pounding fear. He’s just 12-years-old. Back they go to the major city called Jerusalem, the place from which their caravan had departed several days earlier. They searched everywhere for their boy. For three days they lived in the ice cold grip of fear. Imagine the conversation that Joseph and Mary had when they tried to sleep at night, knowing that their son was huddled in a shadowy back street, or taken by someone who would harm him. So many parents have shared those feelings over the centuries. So many children have cried alone in the night.

Our story has a happy ending. Not all do. They find their boy in the Jerusalem Temple, sitting among wise teachers, listening to their wisdom, even asking questions that seemed rather advanced for a pre-adolescent child. Now comes an exchange of words between anxious parents and surprised son. “Child, why have you treated us like this?” Look at us! Our clothes are stained with tears. Why did you do this to us? I hope they hugged him first. I hope he felt their tears drop onto his shoulders as they embraced in relief and love.

I know the Gospel writer Luke is sending us a message about who Jesus is. The linking of Jesus with Temple, wisdom, spiritual insight, reveal Luke’s intention. The words the child speaks are obvious. My observation, limited by the scant words Luke gives us when the three are united, is more about how we sometimes treat those who have wandered off and gotten themselves lost. The range of responses is wide: scolding, demeaning, accusative…look what you’ve done to us…all the way to wild rejoicing when one coin is found, or one lost lamb, or one wayward son, or one 12-year-old boy. Lots of lessons can be gleaned from a story like this, legitimate lessons. Mine is simply this: love before you lecture. Love might save the day and the relationship. Love might make a tomorrow possible. Tomorrow is a day for lessons. Today is a day for embracing.

Before turning out the light last night, I reached for the pad of sticky notes. Let’s see, what am I planning for tomorrow? Oh, yes: call the auto shop about a tune-up, remind my neighbors about going to Costco at 10, fix that door that doesn’t shut properly, find out how C is doing in the hospital, think of a topic for Shining Spirit, finish the slides for the Friday night program, buy more sticky notes.

And then someone tapped me on my shoulder and said: You forgot three important notes; write this in big letters: Do Justice, Love Kindness, Walk humbly with your God. In fact, write several identical notes and stick one on the bathroom mirror, one on the refrigerator, one on the coffee pot, one of the TV screen. These three items are not suggestions about things to do when you run out of things to do. What does the Lord REQUIRE of you? Be just. Be loving. Be aware of the Presence by your side. Remember these three things when someone picks up the last package of towels before you can get to it, or when the car won’t start, or that slamming door slams again, or when life happens.

Required, not suggested. Advice worthy of a yellow sticky note. The price and joy of being a follower of His way.

“I spend less time putting myself
into a place where I
can find God
and
more time putting myself
into places where
God can find
me.”

From The Endless Practice
by Mark Nepo

Years ago, when I rode my bike in an El Tour de Tucson, I looked at the race route the day before to become familiar with Turning Points, key locations where “significant change occurs.” Turn right. Turn left. Ignore Turning Points and you might end up in Eloy wondering where the other bikes are. Turning Points.

As I get older, I feel like the number of Turning Points in my life are increasing and the time between them is decreasing. Life speeds up as I slow down. And there’s the reality that sometimes a Turning Point is necessary but unwanted, maybe even a little scary. Perhaps you’ve had a Turning Point or two in your lifetime. Take a minute soon and make a list of the Turning Points you’ve experienced, those times of “significant change” in your own life. The “good” ones and the not so good ones. They all make up who you are and who I am.

So, here comes the point. You can flip a coin, or draw straws, or roll the dice when a Turning Point shows up; you can consult your friends or seek professional advice, but don’t overlook that still, small voice among the many. Your heart, your spirit or you soul is sending a little reminder: come to The Wisdom, listen to The Words of Your Heart. Don’t be afraid to ask: Master, Teacher, Companion what is the basic principle of Spirit that informs this situation, this moment in my life. What should I do? What would you do? What shall we do?

Then listen to your heart speak to your mind. It takes courage to face some Turning Points, and isn’t it nice to have a Companion Friend whose wisdom is available for the asking? Whose courage and compassion help us take the next step?

Final thought: If you don’t want the answer, don’t ask the question. If you do want it, He’s there.

The chicken or the egg?

When it comes to things of the Spirit, the question becomes: Do I understand in order to believe? Or, do I believe in order to understand? There is a difference. Think about it. Which comes first: faith or reason. In a world of scientific discovery, reason and logic rule supreme. Prove it and I’ll believe it. Prove it and it is true. But theology doesn’t work that way. What can be proved about God? So, many people walk away from religion because there is no empirical evidence, no proof. At the same time, others say faith doesn’t require proof…I guess that’s why it’s called Faith.

But while some of us are debating the question as if it is the most important issue in the world, people are walking away from the conversation and labeling it all “irrelevant”. A recent study by the Pew Foundation, reported widely in news broadcasts, projects that, if trends continue as they are today, by the year 2070, Christianity will claim about 37% of the U.S. population. Two decades will make a huge difference. And some people would say that a large part of the contributing factors in this decline is the matter of relevance. The “chicken-egg” debate is of some interest, but does it address the realities of living in a volatile, violent world?

The answer to this dilemma is to sit down with the one for whom Christianity was named and to ask: “Where did we go wrong?” And I think it’s likely that we will hear: when passion became power, when compassion became control, when self-sacrifice became self-interest. Perpetuating the program is not the first work of the church or religious institutions. It’s about people. All about people. Let’s put away the podiums of debate about who is right and who is wrong. In their place, let’s issue bowls and towels. While riding my bike yesterday I turned a corner to find a homeless woman stretched out across the path. She appeared to be unconscious, but in a moment she opened her eyes and adjusted the ragged clothes she wore. It was a frightening, sad moment. What was I to do? So, I asked her if she believed in the Nicene Creed. She didn’t seem to understand. The better choice was what really happened. I sat with her until help arrived, until caring hands began to minister to her needs.

Bowls and towels will overcome the potential drop to thirty-seven percent in the next two decades. But it’s not about survival, is it. It’s about serving in His name. And, it’s about time.

Lord, show me the road that takes me home.
I’m lost and afraid and very alone.
I long for the place where peace can be found.
Show me the way to my sacred ground,
a place made holy because you are there,
the quiet pasture of your love and care.

Lord, guide me to the path that takes me home.
I’ve lost my way; I’m on my own.
I need to feel the joy once more,
the kind that touches the deepest core,
the place where hope and healing meet,
where love and grace overcome defeat.

Is there room for me at the table there?
Is there space, do you think, for an extra chair?
I don’t deserve a welcome hand,
my life has not followed a sensible plan,
but today, for reasons I don’t understand,
I stand before you a different man.

I’ll take the chance that love lives still.
Is that the road, Lord, just over the hill?
To the left? To the right? I’ll follow your lead.
I’m finished with my arrogant, insistence greed.
I just want to knock on the front porch door,
and find the love that I knew before.

Lord, show me the road that takes me home.
I’m so very tired of being alone.

Elvis Presley sang about it. Tony Bennet left his in San Francisco. We talk about the ” ” of the matter, meaning the most important. Country Western singers couldn’t sing without mentioning it. Sometimes it’s broken with sadness or grief. Sometimes it “swells within our chests” with pride over the accomplishment of a child or grandchild. Quite literally, you can’t live without one.

Recently I thought about the old saying: “Home is where the heart is” and I came to a profound conclusion. I don’t have a home. I am without “a” home. But, I have more homes that the average multi-billionaire. If home is “a place of emotional connection,” I’ve got quite a few. Or, a “place of fond memories”: lots of those. Or, being near family or loved ones. A very long list! A man once said to Jesus: Lord, I will follow you wherever you go, to which Jesus replied (and I paraphrase): I don’t have a home. Foxes and birds have homes, but I don’t. Still want to come along? “Home is where the heart is.” He left a little piece of his heart in so many places: where the blind received sight, where life was restored, where he sat that day and held children in his lap. A little piece here; a little piece there. There are fragments of me, and you, scattered all over this world. And that’s the way it’s supposed to be. He did and we do, because we put our feet in his footsteps and follow his lead.

So, today risk it. Live fully. Love without limits. Leave a little piece of your heart wherever you go. And you will have many beautiful homes, because “home is where the heart is.” Even little pieces of it.

The water was so smooth just above this spot. Two ducks floated peacefully on the quiet surface as I took the picture. And, just below this churning chaos the water was once again calm. It’s those rocks beneath the surface that cause the disruption, those unseen and perhaps unexpected obstacles. Just when I want and need rest, just when things are finally going right, just when I’m feeling good about myself and my faith — Rocks! And when those sudden disruptions happen, like the people in the big pontoon boats braving the river though Grand Canyon, hold on, steer wisely. There might even be a prayer or two whispered. Rocks are everywhere. No one avoids them entirely. Take a moment and think about the last time your boat was rocked. What got you through it?

A little slice of life for your reflection.

Today my prayer will not be petitions and promises. I will not “ask for,” but I will “act with” all that I already possess. I will trust that the words Jesus spoke were true, directions not suggestions, and meant to be applied, not simply appreciated.

I will live in the world of “as if” and I will say to myself: don’t be afraid, act “as if” you have courage, for you do; love “as if” love will heal, because it will; forgive “as if” forgiveness will restore and reconcile, because it does.

And before I fall into sleep tonight, I will say to this day: “Amen.” And I will say to the Spirit, my companion, “thank you.” And I will say to God: “I tried and I will try again in the Light of tomorrow.” Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done. Day by day. Prayer by prayer. Then I will close my eyes and drift into sleep, knowing that I am held in the arms of God.

Amen

She was a gentle soul.
She never considered herself strong,
but she was. It took strength coupled
with courage to sort out and play
the cards she was dealt.
But the game was fixed, and she
never had a chance to become
herself. She never really met her
“self” because she gave it away,
not reluctantly, to stray cats,
people in need, the fantasy of
finding love, the job she did
every day of her adult life, the
work of her church, and to the
boy-child who was the brightest
star in her universe.

She lived with uncommon dignity,
grew old without the benefit of
being young, pinched pennies and
gave herself away. She was the
quiet sacrifice that made life possible.

I remember her today with love, deep
appreciation and admiration. My regret
is that she never heard enough the words:
“I love you, Mom.”

Note: I hope this reflection triggers your
own remembering.