Shining Spirit

I can give you 14 reasons why you should
never chop a hole in the roof --
bumblebees   rain   snow 
woodpeckers  dust
and 9 more

Unless you are locked out of something
absolutely  surely  certainly
critically important
like love

What if I knock a hole in the roof
and it starts to rain?
Dance in the puddles

What if a bird flies in?
Invite her to tea

What if dust settles on everything?
Draw pictures with your finger

What if I break through and
love isn't there?

What if I don't and
it is?

According to my records, this was the first photograph published on Shining Spirit more than a decade ago. The most recent posting was number 1,040. I found myself strolling down memory lane early this morning when I opened my eyes to this Sunday dawn with bits and pieces of an old song tumbling around in my brain. Here are some of the memory pieces: “the little congregation,” “chapel bells,” “little Jimmy Brown.” You won’t remember the song unless you can make it back to 1959.

Sung by The Browns, the song “The Three Bells” was a huge hit. I guess it was with me because it has stuck around for 65 years in the crevices of my consciousness. And, of course, given the wonder of our technology, I entered a few words in a search process and within one minute I had the name of the song, the artists, and a You Tube of the song being sung at The Grand Old Opry. We’ve come a long way in 65 years.

The photo above is still powerful in its contemporary message. This morning I see the bridge, the deep fog that obscures one end of it, and an almost eerie quietness in the forest setting. Given the uncertainties of our own day, are we coming out of the fog or into it? The unknown teases some and terrifies others. If I am driving into the blinding fog, what waits ahead? I want to see the curves and turns in the road, but I cannot. How does my faith inform my responses and reactions to the fog?

In hindsight, 1959 seems to have been a quieter time. More stable? Probably not. It hadn’t been so long since we came out of a World War. Korea was next. Viet Nam waited. Maybe there has always been fog at the end of the narrow bridge. Maybe the road has never been comfortably clear. For those of us who are approaching the fog, clutching the steering wheel until our hands ache, tenuous and tired and troubled by what might be lurking around the next unseen curve, I offer three words that, like The Three Bells song, insist on escaping from my mind this morning. The words are Despair, Daring, and Devotion.
These words were not in my consciousness when I started writing this post. They have come out of the fog and offered themselves to us.

Despair: some of us have chosen this word and we dread waking every day to disillusionment and doubt. We live in a house of fear.

Daring: some of us have determined to be daring. Or, as one writer put it: Stand up. Speak out. Speak often. Demand truth. We will live in a house of courage.

Devotion: some of us, and I hope most, will draw hope and strength from the faith that we profess. If we really believe it, now is the time to live it. We will live in a house of faith, a house built on a Rock, a house framed with the strong supports of values, principles, and ethics.

Like it or not, there is bridge ahead, a bridge that leads into an unknown. Will it shape us or will we shape it? Last thought: as I read back over these words, I realize that I’ve simply described the way life is for millions of people in hundreds of places at any hour on the clock. We can’t see the end of the bridge ahead, so we have a choice to make. The house in which you choose to live will make a big difference. Don’t fear the fog; follow the Way. Press on.

Just because you spread your wings doesn’t mean you will fly. The air is waiting for you, but there is some effort needed to soar. The bird sitting on my balcony railing jumped into the air with his wings moving up and down, and he rose gracefully into the morning breeze. The breeze lifted him because he trusted the air and he did his part.

Bit of a similarity there, do you think. Today, if you want to fly, trust the Spirit to lift you as you give yourself to that surrounding and abiding power. Soar, glide, do acrobatic rolls…flap your wings if you want to stay airborne. Live today very intentionally by the wisdom of Jesus, by the sacred Wind we call The Spirit, and by the love of God given to you so that you can give it away.

Leap into life. Flap those wings. Come on! Let’s fly!

If you have Luke 17 handy, take a moment and read the story of the 10 lepers who approached Jesus and asked for help. Go ahead; I’ll wait.

Now, with that story in mind, here are some observations. We know from history that any person diagnosed with Leprosy was isolated from community. They were cast out of the village and left to roam on their own. To be sure that a “clean” citizen knew of a leper’s proximity, the afflicted person was forced to wear or carry a bell to signal their presence and to call out: Unclean! Unclean! as they moved around the outskirts of the village. So, in the story, the 10 lepers call out from a distance. They beg for healing and for mercy.

Here are three things to note about this story:
1. Jesus tells them “Go and show yourselves to the priest.” And as they went they were healed. Not before they went…as they went. They left Jesus still leprous and found their healing as they followed his instructions. Trust comes to mind. How often do I want to have the assurance in hand, the answer given before I take my first step. “We can’t go to the priest, Jesus. Look at us. We have leprosy. Heal us and then we will go.” A pastor friend used to call it “stepping out in faith.”

2. Ten went and one came back. All got the healing but only one was grateful enough to say Thank You. The others were probably celebrating, walking the streets for the first time, shaking hands with their neighbors. But one came back. Gratitude is an essential element in our faith. I wonder if this grateful man even got to the priest? “Then one of them, when he saw he had been healed, turned back.”

3. The one who came back was not a Jew. “He was a Samaritan.” He was a foreigner, a menace, a threat to Jewish welfare. Do you think Jesus is making a point by telling us that the man was a Samaritan? I do, too. That even our enemies need mercy and healing, not rejection and hate. In fact, why “enemy” anyway?

So, three points to ponder. Take a few minutes and let this wonderful story marinate in your mind. Ponder it. I’ll wait.

Years and years ago, someone planted a tree but never saw it grow. It takes time for trees to mature. But, full grown, the tree provided cooling shade for people, animals, for the earth itself. It lived its life authentically. Each year the tree would dress up in a colorful robe of reds and yellows. People came from everywhere go admire the tree’s beauty. Then, when the air grew crisp, the tree, assisted by a friendly northern wind, shook and shook until all the leaves tumbled to the ground. And there it stood, stripped of its colorful leaves, now revealing a marvelous work of art. What artist could create something as stunning as the stark reality that waits just below the surface? What artist, indeed.

Only One.

In a time when we define “Hero” as a political figure who has trouble with truth, an ego-dominated actor, an overpaid professional athlete, a multi-billionaire who doesn’t know what share means, (add your own here), it’s good to remember that once upon a time “hero” meant someone who possessed valor, an understanding of what it means to sacrifice and did it, and the decency not to brag about it. There are more heroes in the world today than you may realize. They live in big cities, on farms, in little towns like Sunnyvale, Texas. Might even be your next-door neighbor. Remember them. They made a difference, in life and in death. “Thank you for your service,” is not a glib phrase. If you say it, mean it. If you hear it, take it personally. To all who today or yesterday served the common good, thank you.

I have a bone to pick with Jiminy Cricket. In the 1940 film Pinocchio, the cricket sang “When You Wish Upon A Star.” Remember the tune and the words? “Makes no difference who you are. Anything your heart desires will come to you.” How about a ham sandwich or a warm coat or a cure for my child’s disease? I was halfway through a TV program last night before I realized that I was watching something bordering on obscene. I was drooling over the walk-through and description of an eight-story townhouse on the Upper West Side in NYC. For sale, by the way. The sleek couple taking me through the place stood on the circular staircase that was continuous from floor one to floor eight. To say it was magnificent would be a gross understatement. If you’re interested, it may still be on the market. Only $85M…that’s Million. When you wish upon a star….anything? Let me tell you one thing I really wish for, and it’s not a 19,000 square foot townhouse in Manhattan. Show me the right star and I will double down on my wish for patience, specific patience, not the generic type. Call me grumpy, but I seem to have less and less patience with folks who unashamedly wear their version of the Christian faith like a lucky charm on a bracelet. It’s as if they are buying stock on the NYSE. An investment. A retirement plan, eternal. But Jesus isn’t selling Whole Life policies. He is, though, offering life on His terms. Some of us…many of us, need to rethink reality. There are basic principles that pertain to accumulating wealth…enough is always just a little more; build bigger barns; cut corners when necessary. And there are basic principles when it comes to aligning yourself with Jesus…by giving you receive; dying to self is birth into life; do unto others.

When you wish upon a star….which one, Jiminy? Anything, you say? Justice? Kindness? Mercy? Cheapening Christ comes as the result of picking the wrong star…the one that reflects one’s own self image.

Grumpy, I know.

I wrote recently about the delicate art of making choices, particularly choices generated by fear or disappointment. Something happens, some event, opens the door to fear or anxiety, and we have to decide how to express our thoughts and feelings. There are two basic choices: Respond or React. Either will determine how we act, speak and feel. For instance, React is usually packed with emotion; it has energy about it. Respond, on the other hand, carries with it a sense of thoughtful consideration. Responding has energy, too, but different from reacting.

When I read the New Testament, I get a sense that Jesus advocated Responding, taught his disciples how to face challenges and opportunities, and lived the principle himself. Reacting is often spur-of-the-moment, emotion loaded. Responding comes closer to the principles that Jesus taught: thoughtfulness, reason, justice, compassion; the list goes on. The Apostle Paul carried the same thought to all the churches under his supervision. You can hear it in his letter to the various congregations.

Just yesterday I got an email that led me back to personal choices, the way we live, and what we do when things don’t go our way. The writer said we can “throw our hands up in the air,” he called it Reacting. Or, we can “roll up our sleeves,” the second option, Responding. Reacting might be the initial reaction to a bad situation, but it’s Responding that makes a difference. “Throw your hands up in the air” or “roll up your sleeves”, think, reason, make a plan, make a difference.

So when disappointment knocks on your door, remember you have a choice: Slam the door in his face, scream and shout, throw your hands up in the air. Or, roll up your sleeves and make a difference.

It’s up to you. Your choice.

There is a remarkable story in the Christian scriptures about an empty tomb. No, not that one. Not the Easter tomb. We might call this the Lazarus tomb, because that’s where the man was buried by his sisters, Mary and Martha. Probably hewn out of a large stone, sealed with another stone rolled over the opening, the tomb was the final stopping place for people of importance.

Informed of the death of Lazarus, Jesus went to the tomb and was greeted by the sisters: So, where have you been! Why weren’t you here when he was sick and now you arrive after he’s been dead for almost a week. Where were you when we needed you? Jesus consoles them, explains that it’s not too late, that he will take care of the situation. And then he orders the stone sealing the tomb be pushed back. “Lazarus, come out!” Again the sisters express themselves: Come out! He’s been dead for days and you know what the smell of decay is like.

To their dismay, an understatement, the still-wrapped body of Lazarus comes stumbling out of the tomb. One final thing needs to be done. Those death-wrappings need to come off so Lazarus can live freely again. Now, here’s something that can slip by in the story, something seemingly insignificant. Jesus said: Unbind him and set him free. He didn’t say: stumble over here, Lazarus, and I will unbind you and you will be free. He didn’t say that. Jesus looked at those witnessing this unbelievable event and said: Unbind him and set him free. You do it! You and you and you. Touch the death cloths, remove the shroud, release him, set him free. You do it.

I’m just wondering who I will meet today, a person still wrapped in the grave clothes of anger or fear or despair. And I’m wondering if I will have the compassion or the courage to “unbind” him or her, to set them free. That will happen only if I see the other’s pain, be conscious of it, and act with the power of God’s spirit.

I’m wondering that about you, too.

Hear these wise words, both general and particular, from the late Buddhist master of contemplative spirituality, Thich Nhat Hanh: “An entire sea of water can’t sink a ship unless it gets inside the ship. Similarly, the negativity of the world can’t put you down unless you allow it to get inside you.”

This is a general truth that can be a foundational pillar for life. It is also a particular truth when storms arise and the sea threatens. Pair this wisdom up with 1 John 4:4 “Greater is He that is in you than he who is in the world,” and you’re set for any day and any circumstance.

May peace live within you today and all your tomorrows.