Shining Spirit

Very early in our common faith history, in the years following the death of Jesus of Nazareth, people who gave their allegiance to his ministry and memory were known as “People of The Way,” The Way meaning the path of belief and spiritual practices that leads to fullness of our humanity, wholeness, the Kingdom of God. But it was the word Kingdom and Jesus’s casual use of the title “King” that got him into trouble and eventually caused his death. This threat to the existing kingdom, that of Caesar, was simply too great. There could be only one kingdom and one king, and that would be the Emperor. Threats were treated harshly as a demonstration of political power. Caesar wanted to rule, control, exercise military power, and crush competitors. Jesus, the apparent leader of the new kingdom movement, the threat to the Roman Empire, wanted to release people from bondage into freedom and show people how to establish an alternative kingdom built on selflessness and compassionate concern for all people. 

Over all the centuries, The Way of Jesus has taken detours, been held hostage by people and movements who want to reshape it according to their own desires and designs. And those efforts have produced variations of The Way, variations that, in my opinion, Jesus would not recognize. For instance, and this is where I declare that you are about to read my own opinions, The Way of Jesus is not about the next life, it is about this life. It is not a plan to get from here to there. It is a way of living that starts exactly now. Freedom from bondage, no matter the bondage, is possible right now. And that was very good news to everyone but Caesar. Then, The Way (substitute Kingdom of God, if you wish) is not about creating competitive religions but about building compassionate relationships. And the first one is with God who is the definition of compassion. In truth, I don’t believe for a moment that Jesus ever thought about the establishment of a new religious order. He never gave any indication of moving away from his Jewish traditions, he just went above and beyond them with startling hospitality to anyone who wanted to know God. His hope was to unite not divide. Also, the movement called The Way was, at its heart, not about saving. It was about spending, freely giving, spiritual and practical generosity. What we know as salvation theology was not his primary message. Saving “for” was not his approach. He was saving “from,” from hunger, from thirst, from illness, from brokenness. Then he said “Go, and do likewise.” And those who chose to follow his instruction, who gave water and food and love to their neighbors, that is, who chose to follow The Way, were, in that moment, citizens of The Kingdom of God. They had been “saved” into the alternative kingdom. Works theology? No, compassion theology; love theology that set people on the pathway to God’s heart. Well, enough to consider for one day. Let’s do it again tomorrow. May the Spirit guide you in all your pondering and in all your praise. Press on.

When I was younger, stronger and physically flexible, I played football for the mighty Hornets of Alex Spence Junior High School. Won a few, lost a few. And one thing I remember about being on that team was the Head Coach, Mr. Whitten, who always reminded us that if we followed the “fundamentals” of the game we would win. Back to the basics, follow the fundamentals. His mantra and theme song. I tell you this because I have been thinking recently about the basics of the Christian faith, and how faith practices would be powerful and persuasive if we followed the fundamental concepts and ideas taught and demonstrated by Jesus. I know that many good books have been written about faith’s basic concepts, and that what I believe to be basic ideas might not be identical to your understanding. That said, I want to spend a few days thinking with you about principles, values, and practices that one might consider fundamentally crucial as a follower of The Way of Jesus.

The term “The Way” was taken on by early Christians who were called “People of The Way.” That term precedes the designation “Christian” and is descriptive of people who followed The Way, a combination of belief and practice. It wasn’t enough to believe without practical application of that belief, and vice versa. So, I start my list of basics with two ideas, both rather universal but filled with practical application and expression. The Way of Jesus is about two things: 1. transforming bondage into freedom and 2. changing the culture by changing the individual. About the first: bondage is not just about prisons and barred windows. Bondage to anything denies the ability one has to make choices. A citizen of a totalitarian regime is in bondage to the political structure, held “captive.” The kingdom of Caesar demands allegiance, and will get it by force, if necessary. The Kingdom of God gives freedom within the boundaries of respect and compassionate concern. Jesus said, to put words into his mouth: bondage is not the way of God. I can show you an alternative, a culture in which you will be human and not hostage.

And that’s number two: kingdoms usually thrive on political control, but my kingdom exists because of the individual expression of compassionate concern. To put it in “political” terms: the kingdom of God is about selfless compassion, not about self-interested control. One kingdom denies the intent of God for the sake of power while the other kingdom develops the fullness of God’s creation. Individuals are kingdom changers. You and you and you and you, by living my way, will remake the culture. These two “basics” are, in my way of thinking, foundational stones. How would you describe the “fundamentals” of your faith? That’s your homework assignment for next time. Come on, let’s be on The Way. We press on.

In our Manzanita winter I’ve seen a lot of driftwood. But never one like this. This is the Rembrandt of rubbish. This should be in a gallery somewhere. The picture doesn’t do it justice, but, trust me, it’s remarkable. Those of us who feed on symbolism will spend hours deciphering the curves and edges until, finally, we see the hidden jewel. Maybe it’s a face or an animal, but somewhere in that ocean art is a feature or figure waiting to be unveiled. My suggestion this morning is that it’s better to use a telescope than a microscope when looking for meaning, symbol or metaphor. And I would further suggest that the same idea works in life generally. Better to take a step or two back to gain the full perspective, the comprehensive view, rather than viewing everything and everybody under the microscope of precision and perfection. Life tends to narrow dramatically when we live microscopically. Faith is an act of trust in the midst of unknowing. Unlike the sciences, faith doesn’t respond well to severe scrutiny. Faith, developed through rigid analysis, turns out to be rigid. Compassion suffers when the calculations of the length of Noah’s ark become more important than giving a cup of cold water in the spirit of Christ.

Most of the time life is better viewed at arm’s length rather than through the lens of a magnifying glass. And for me, the great irony is that the more I stand back from the driftwood, the closer I get to its profound beauty. The more I look at life in its fullness, not its narrowness, the more I understand myself and you as my neighbor. And, the more I look at life comprehensively the closer I come to the mind and the heart of Christ. Consider the lilies of the field, not the fourth petal of the third plant in row seventeen.

Perhaps the highest compliment one person can give to another is the willingness and trust to share a thought, a dream, a hope. The act of sharing one’s self with another human being, opening my mind and my heart to you, is a blessing to the receiver and to the giver. At one level, sharing simply means talking about the weather or who’s going to win the Super Bowl game. But, deep sharing is to open the door and invite someone to walk into your heart or your mind. The deep interior of one’s self is a sacred place and only the trusted are invited to come in. And I think this same idea of deep sharing with a friend applies to prayer, also. Prayer is more than chit-chat, more than asking God to make the lottery numbers work this time. The power of prayer is felt when I share my most profound sorrow or hope or joy with The One whose love, acceptance or forgiveness invite me to come in, sit down for awhile, and lay the burden down. So often we think of God as being remote, inaccessible when in reality God is as near as my next thought or emotion. God’s hand is always extended to me and, like the couple walking along the beach holding hands, to take God’s extended hand into mine means our Creator and Friend is just that close. In another sense, Jesus, the Christ of God, is God’s hand reaching out to take mine. So, the next time you take a walk for exercise or refreshment, to ponder something or to pray, know that there is Someone beside you whose hand is extended to yours. Take it.

If you can enlarge the photograph, and you have nothing better to do, you can count the tree rings and calculate the age of this huge driftwood now resting on the Manzanita beach. No, I didn’t do it. But even at a casual glance, you can tell that this once elegant tree witnessed a lot of history in its time. That’s part of the wonder of nature for me. That beautiful old tree you pass every day without really noticing, or the rugged mountain cliffs that become commonplace, or the churning ocean that sings day after day — these are repositories of remarkable history. Think what the Rockies have witnessed over the centuries or those great Redwoods. When I stop to wonder about this, I come away with at least two conclusions: my few years on this earth aren’t as big as a grain of sand, so I dare not take myself too seriously. I’m passing through. And, all living things, even those we think insignificant, are the keepers of history. Maybe a third thing, too: I am grateful for a few years of walking through history in the company of forests and oceans and creatures of all sizes and shapes. And that includes my crusty neighbor, people in places to which I will never go–people I will never know, and this splendid earth-ball that floats through a living universe. I may not be blessed with wealth or prominence or position, but I am rich. And so are you. Let your gratitude be as strong as the Redwood, as powerful as the oceans, and as humble as the wide-eyes of a little child. You are blessed. Return it today in some tangible way. Press on.

He flew low,
it was his choice,
safer, he thought,
in case of emergency.
A fall from the heights
can be painful, even fatal.
But over time and miles,
conditioned, then captured
by a shallow hope,
he mistook reflection for
reality. The watery shadow
beneath him beckoned, invited,
enticed. Come and fly
with me, it said, until one
day, still thinking the
shadow substance, he flew
down and down
slowly, moving closer
and closer to the
image now growing
larger and larger until
it was too late and he was
consumed by an Illusion.

If only he had dared to
soar, to risk the heights,
to rise with courage
above the shadowy mist,
to glide effortlessly in
the embrace of Light,
free of deception and restraint.

Light does not deceive.
Light will not. It cannot.
Light is the breath of the Sacred,
the place where angels play
in the smile of God.
See, Light comes with the morning.
Come, we shall fly today
in The Light.

I discovered this lovely little bridge quite by chance. It’s tucked away along one of the many curves in Highway 101. You can’t see it unless you take your eyes off the road, look down into a low area adjacent to the highway, tilt your head a little to the left and close one eye. Just kidding. Almost.

From the first moment I saw the bridge, I knew I had to find a pull-off spot, walk along a dirt road that leads right up the bridge, and snap a few pictures. And, on one of our rare days when it was not pouring down rain, I did just that. To my surprise, I discovered that the bridge was built over a very pretty bubbling stream that was a delight to see. Maybe those pictures another time. What you don’t see in the photograph is a red sign at the near end of the bridge. The sign says: This bridge is certified for all emergency vehicles. Even big, heavy fire trucks can make the crossing safely. Good news for anyone who lives across the bridge and around the bend in the road. It’s a strong bridge that can be trusted.

The world I live in could use some bridges that span chasms of misunderstanding, misinformation, and missing values. We need bridges that can be trusted to bear the weight, carry the load. And we could use a few bridge builders, too. In many ways, Jesus was a bridge from one world to another, one reality to a different reality. He linked things and people. He brought together people of various stations in life, differing viewpoints, different priorities. He was a bridge to a new place in thinking and acting. Not only that, he taught people how to build bridges. He called it loving your neighbor, forgiving, sacrificing. Then he told them to go out into the world and build. To carry the metaphor to its extreme, the church I attend is a school for bridge building. We call it redemption and reconciliation.  As He was and is the bridge, so we, his disciples, are certified bridge builders. Lots of gaping chasms out there. Lots of bridges needed. So, pick up your toolkit of determined faith and press on. Time to build some bridges in his name.

A little bit of irony never hurt anybody. The company sign is on the back of a pickup truck. I couldn’t resist. Have a blessed day. 

A couple of nights ago, we had a sleep-over at our house. The rain had stopped and as darkness began to descend, I walked out onto the backyard deck, just to make sure everything was ready for a good night’s sleep. The trees are very thick just beyond the deck, except for a small clearing off to my right behind the tool shed. And when I looked that way, I thought I saw movement, slight but still something other than branches moving in the wind. And then I saw the big ears atop that graceful, gentle face. A young deer had found a nice spot next to a yellow wheelbarrow and apparently decided to bed down for the night. He looked at me very carefully, probably wondering if I might come too close and force him out of his comfort. I think our eyes locked for a minute or two before he glanced away, maybe deciding that I wasn’t a threat after all. By now darkness had chased away the light, and I wished the visitor a good night before heading back into the warm house. 

Then a thought passed through my mind, one that almost sent me back out with a flashlight. Was the beautiful animal injured? Is that why he didn’t move away when I looked his way? Why was he on his own at this point in his young life? Should I go back out and walk closer just to see if he could get up and move easily? After a few minutes of debating with myself, I decided to let him rest in that spot he had chosen, and to check on him early in the morning. My real wish was to walk up to him, sit down on the ground and tell him how grateful I was that he chose to camp out in the little clearing. Imagine how wonderful it would have been to let him know that he was safe, admired, and valued as a creature of sacred design. But that’s not the way life works, is it. Early yesterday morning, just as light began to filter into the trees, I slipped quietly out onto the deck and looked for my friend, our guest. But he was gone. I take that to mean he is healthy, out foraging for his early meal.  In any case, I wished him well in my thoughts and gave thanks for his company. Hospitality blesses the giver and the receiver. Maybe he will choose to come back to the clearing and bring a friend next time. Always glad to have a party.

Highway 101 runs along the west coast and it’s known for sharp curves, stunning views of the ocean and falling rocks from steep, shear cliffs. Recently, my wife and I drove to Astoria to do some shopping and some exploring. As we worked our way through a series of switch-back curves, we met a new friend. He had already stopped traffic coming the other way. Now, as he casually walked across the busy highway, quite unconcerned about cars flashing headlights and honking horns, I stood on the brakes and pulled to the shoulder of the roadway. The next thing we knew, he was strolling up behind our car, then walking slowly beside us on the passenger side. Thus, the picture above. What a magnificent creature. I think Sue could have reached out an touched him he was so close, but she had second thoughts. Smart woman.

This has been a remarkable week because of sightings and encounters with wonderful examples of beauty in God’s good creation. Two days ago it was the brilliant rainbow in our neighborhood, then yesterday the Elk walking beside the car, and today my unplanned visit with two deer eating grass along a roadway in our State Park. The pair looked up, gave me a wink, and kept right on eating. Since there were no other cars on this backroad, I stopped, rolled down the window, said hello and asked them to pose for a few photographs. Apparently the sweet grass was more interesting than my invitation, but I got a few pictures anyway. Wonderful memories were made this week. Wonderful blessings came our way. In all three episodes, I turned a corner and ran right into examples of the artistry and gifts of The Presence. I can’t wait to get in the car tomorrow!