Shining Spirit

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.

A great mystery novel has a “plot that thickens” until, finally, truth is revealed, the mystery is solved. But you have to wait until the end to figure it out. A really great joke begins with some preliminary build-up but it’s the punch line that brings out the laughter. Punch lines always come at the end, not the beginning of a joke. “You’ve saved the best until last,” someone says as the magnificent dessert is brought into the room. The meal was wonderful, but this is the crowning jewel.

You’ve saved the best until last. Not Jesus. So often he reversed the normal order of things, turned the world upside down, shocked his listeners with challenges to the commonly accepted. For instance. Matthew 5 contains many insights, words of wisdom, basic instructions. We call it the Sermon On The Mount, arguably the most important collection of Kingdom insight available. And it is in the very first words of this huge collection of spiritual wisdom that Jesus demonstrates his delight in throwing us a curve. All of the 106 verses of practical teaching depend on the opening line, a principle statement: “blessed are those who are poor in spirit, for the Kingdom of God is theirs.”

Translation: if you realize your spiritual need, only then will you realize that you already have what you desire. If you don’t know it, or admit it, then you don’t have it. Everything that follows in the Sermon is understandable in the light of that opening remark. He gives us the punch line first of all. Folks who honestly confront their own spiritual need find that they don’t have to wait for a future date: they have all the insight, wisdom and practical illustrations they need to blossom as flowers in God’s garden. They possess the Kingdom, now.

“For the kingdom of heaven is theirs.” Yours. Mine. Now. But, only if we get honest and get busy.

If you have nothing special to do today and you want to fill a little empty time, why don’t you sing? I’ll even suggest the song: Happy Birthday To You. Why that song? Because today is the birthday of some pretty famous people. “And many more…” to Willie Nelson, by my calculation 91 today; funny man Jerry Seinfeld; tennis great Andre Agassi; and the late but great race car driver: Dale Earnhardt. As I look back over my shoulder, I remember the times each one of these performers made me want to jump up and applaud their skills and the thrills they brought to the world.

But there is always something else I see when I take the time to look back over that same shoulder. I see the fingerprint of God. Everywhere I look: family, friends, work, particular events, special moments, there is the fingerprint and I know: God was there. I didn’t know it in the moment, but I conclude that since God was present in all those moments of my life, isn’t it reasonable to think that God is leaving fingerprints everywhere today? Just because you don’t see the movement of God in and through your life doesn’t mean that you are alone. The promise was given: “I will never leave you alone” were the words spoken by Jesus, and He has kept his promise. The Holy Spirit lives and moves among us.

Take a few minutes today and think back to those times when you said to yourself: “I was lucky to get through that,” or “I’m really fortunate to have…” or “I’m sure glad I made that choice.” These are the “intersection” times in our lives when we make choices: this road or that one; yes or no; should I or shouldn’t I?

Then check for fingerprints.

My car won’t drive itself and it doesn’t know how to parallel park, but it is smart enough to know when it needs air in the tires or gas in the tank. A little yellow light shines on the instrument panel when it’s thirsty and another to signal that the tire pressure has dropped. Fair warning, the car is saying; ignore me and you’ll be walking home.

Today is Sunday and I feel a signal in my mind, one that I should not ignore. It’s telling me that the time has come to replenish food for my spirit. Warning: the spiritual tank is running low. Of course, this particular signal could come on any day. It doesn’t have to be Sunday; Thursday will do just as well. The issue is not “that” the signal came, but what I do “when” the little yellow light comes on. Ignore it, let the tank run dry or the tire go flat and there are consequences. There are many different kinds of refueling stations in your hometown. Pick one and fill up. Don’t fret about which one offers the best fuel, because when you arrive at your destination, no one is going to question the type of fuel you used (brands won’t matter). When you pull into that driveway at Home, everybody will be so glad to see you and the party will begin. You arrived! And that’s enough to set off fireworks and fill the feast table with food.

Don’t ignore the signals.

If I try one hundred times and fail, I win.
All those attempts are not in vain.
Now I know what will work and won't,
so through it all I've been able to gain
new knowledge that will show the way,
for only the answer now remains;
the solution is closer than ever.

Honest effort never fails.
Not succeeding is not the same
as wasting time in a frivolous way.
My effort is not a childish game,
the light is closer with every probe;
this is not about headline fame.
Truth is the goal I seek.

Discovery requires a patient mind
that isn't afraid to hear the word "no",
for somewhere within the shadows still
the answer waits, a distant glow.
"Press on!" My mind and heart agree
that very soon the world will know
what now we cannot fully see:
Truth that will bless and set us free.