Last evening a group of Young Adults went to a corn maze on a farm near Frederick, Maryland. Katherine and I were invited (actually the more accurate term might be that we were ‘grandfathered’ in), and since we knew we would enjoy the company, and because we have wanted to see what a corn maze is, we went. We were glad.

A corn maze is literally what the term implies. In this case it is 14 acres of high stalks of corn, like what you’d see in Field of Dreams – with a circuitous path cut throughout those many acres. Obviously it isn’t only one path. There are dead ends and deceptive loops that utterly frustrate pilgrims (no pun intended) and extend the time of finding oneself back to the entrance.

At some point all become lost – that’s the point – in fact it isn’t uncommon for everyone in the same party to be lost, to clearly hear one another’s voices, and to have no idea where each other is – all at the same time!

But it’s a good lost – not an, ‘if you don’t figure it out, you’ll drown ala Poseidon Adventure,’ type of lost. It’s more of an, ‘it wouldn’t be fun if we didn’t get lost,’ kind of lost. Getting lost is part of the built-in fun of the experience.

I thought about that this morning and realized that getting lost is part of the life we unfinished ones live in this world. We lose our way for all kinds of reasons. Sure, we sin, and that has its own wayward effect. But sometimes we just wander in the busyness of life, the pressures that cause us to slightly and momentarily take our eye off of the path. We get lost in sorrows, discouragement and disappointment. And let’s face it, life itself is complicated enough to leave us feeling utterly misplaced.

But if we belong to Jesus, we’re never alone – not only because He is there (I don’t want to minimize this, but the truth is that we are more like that frightened little child that asked his mom for Jesus ‘with skin on Him’ than we want to admit), but because in Christ, we belong to a Community of fellow wanderers who share that seemingly paradoxical existence of living in a broken world while also in the assurance of the future Renewal of all things.

Sometimes all we can do is hear one another’s voices. And I think that’s okay – I think of David and those who refused to leave his side when he hid from his son Absalom (2 Samuel 15:21) – because one day, the entrance will appear, and there will be no more confusion – only Reunion. I’m glad for that.

peace.

Yesterday Katherine and I drove to Washington DC to enjoy the National Gallery of Art, a huge, two-complex structure that houses some of the most treasured historical collections from around the world. For over two hours we walked from room to room, discussing exhibits, sneaking sound bytes from tour guides, and critiquing paintings and sculptures of the masters. We saw Van Gogh’s famous self-portrait (pictured here), Picasso’s ‘cubism’ and Monet’s pastoral paintings, to name a few.

Unfortunately I’m one of those typical husbands that sees art as a spectacular game winning, toes-barely-in-bounds reception on the gridiron. For me it should be ‘so simple a caveman can do it.’ So if you were listening in it wouldn’t be a stretch for you to hear me ask Katherine, ‘What is that,’ or ‘This is good?’ You get the picture (though I didn’t)…

At some point I asked her how the value of each piece is determined. Is it that someone in some important artsy circle just says, ‘This is valuable!’ and then it is?

How does it work? Because for some of these folks’ works to be worth millions I would have thought that the faces could look a little less or a little more – something – I don’t know! Is it that an artist was the first to paint smiley faces on city scenes (you think I’m kidding…)? Can a can of Campbell’s Soup be that exquisite?

So, as we walked, we talked about it – about how some things had never before been done – how some artists stretched the limits, or were the first to venture into certain mediums, etc.

And then Katherine said something that immediately rang true – she said that these are not photographs that can be retouched or airbrushed – that the artists painted imperfectly and that there is something beautiful in their imperfect offerings.

Right there I knew that she got it right (either that, or she figured out how to finally shut me up). I still don’t get all of it – but I like the fact that history has attached value to the imperfect.

Because I’m imperfect as well as unfinished. And no airbrush can erase those broken and ugly blemishes that mark my life story. Only Christ can – and has. And He did it without asking or requiring me to first fix myself. All that mattered to Him was that in the Father’s eyes, and by His own intentions that I’ll never fully understand until I get ‘home,’ in His estimation I have great value (Deuteronomy 7:6 – “…The LORD your God has chosen you out of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be his people, his treasured possession.”)

What news could be better?

peace.

There are certain events that connect entire lifetimes, and one of those occurred this week. Susan Atkins, a participant in one of the most gruesome murders on US soil, died of brain cancer while incarcerated in California. She was arrested and tried in 1969 and had been imprisoned since 1970. Her part in the Sharon Tate slaying (among others), as a member of the Charles Manson gang, was firsthand. Her cold-hearted courthouse testimony of the murder was chilling, and sealed her as one of the most violent and heartless killers of all time.

Atkins was a lost soul before the events that led to her lifelong imprisonment. Her mother died of cancer when she was a child and her father, an alcoholic, farmed her out to family members. As a young teenager she ran away, entered into the drug scene and became a topless dancer in San Francisco to finance her addiction by the time Charles Manson (who remains in prison) stepped into her life and integrated her into his sex-crazed, drug-infested, violent commune.

This is the story we know – one of those parallel narratives that has accompanied my entire life and anyone who grew up in the same era. We grew up watching documentaries, reading headlines and being mesmerized by a made-for-TV movie entitled, Helter Skelter.

The temptation (and it is a subtle one) is to file Atkins under some kind of ‘beyond hope,’ or ‘not worth saving’ category, as we might some other notorious personality. We make such determinations based on our own social instincts, I think. In other words, as Christ-followers we are no less susceptible to the tendency to prioritize sin and sinners – and to be sure, there are some actions that defy all common humanness.

But, as often is the case, there is more to the story. While incarcerated Atkins met Jesus and became a Christ-follower. In the waning days of her life she and her husband, also a believer, attempted to have her released to die at home. The prosecuting attorney at the time, Vincent Bugliosi, argued on her behalf. During that recent parole hearing, she slipped in and out of consciousness, having endured brain surgery, relegated to a gurney, with one leg amputated, and too weak to argue her case.

After her conversion Atkins publicly repented of her sin and acknowledged that there could be no earthly repayment for what she had done against her victims. Her last words, spoken in unison with her husband, were, ‘My God is an amazing God.’ She had discovered that she was freer as an incapacitated, incarcerated, dying woman – in Christ – than she was in the ‘Free Speech,’ ‘Free Love,’ Tune In, Turn On & Drop Out movement.

What we do with this has more to do with our faith than it does hers. We can never know if any confession is the real deal, except for our own. The real question is whether or not we believe God can rescue the most heinous of sinners and redeem their broken lives. If we believe that, then we only need to look in the mirror and discover that He already has.

Friends, this is good news…

peace.

As you obviously know, I took a summer break from the blog, and now am ready and glad to be back at it.

Here are some musings from the summer of 2009…

1. I remembered that at the end of the day, it’s all about People – In travel, in the office and on the road I was reminded of the obvious – that the world we move in is all about people – their diversity, their troubles, their challenges, their pathos and their hopes – The scenery may change, but the ‘People Business’ is messy – and it is a privilege – I don’t ever want to forget this (though you may need to remind me).

2. I remembered that One Person’s Storm is Another’s Comfort – It is said that hurricanes and large storms in one region will suck the humidity out of another. Summer in Maryland was magnificent in 2009 – But if this axiom is true, then I am instructed that our comfort can sometimes be at the expense of another’s – a reminder that no one lives in a vacuum and that we are beautifully connected to one another, good and bad. I’m glad for that.

3. I remembered that Everyone has ‘Dog Days’ – For children (and even parents), summer is a few months of liberation mixed with boredom and adventure. C.S. Lewis rightly cautions that even the most beautiful experiences on earth are not enough to overcome the beauty and peace of the world to come. While my instinct is to avoid the ‘dog days,’ I really am glad they show up from time to time.

4. I remembered that God has infused Beauty throughout Creation – Last month Katherine and I enjoyed Crosby, Stills & Nash in a beautiful outdoor venue in Virginia. The music was magnificent and for a few brief hours we were happy Hippies. Many in the Christian world have a problem believing anything good can come from the world, and in doing so they rob themselves of much God has offered for their enjoyment. Rock On!

5. I remembered that Love and Friendship are to be Cherished – Our summer involved several reunions in various places and for varied reasons – Each one was lovely, all a reminder that the bonds of love we form over time are dearer than anything we can attain or aspire to apart from our faith.

6. I remembered the Sweetness of our good God – Visiting Family, seeing Friends, reflecting on God’s protection and provision through the years – of our children and of us – thinking on the Goodness of God in His Forgiveness, Peace and Mercy – We are Blessed…

peace.

This past Sunday I told our church about my annual summer growth of facial hair.  Such changes often become the center of interesting conversations and comments: ‘Hey, preacher, did you break your razor this morning?’  ‘What’s that growing under your lip there?’  All followed by good-natured laughs.  One of my favorites comes from a stately woman in Miami, who would say (in all seriousness, I might add), ‘You look so handsome without that.’  But every summer, never fail, after weeks on the beach, and to some extent, to celebrate yet another year of pretending to live a surfer’s life, some form of facial hair is grown – sort of like my summer Mr. Potato Head arrangement – or that hairless man you style with ‘hair’ by navigating little shavings of metal with an accompanying magnet (that never gets old!).

The crazy thing is this – On Sunday, because my beard is where my hair has chosen to turn mostly gray, and because it doesn’t grow out very thick, no one even knew what I was talking about – they couldn’t see it!  Within days, in interacting with people I realized this, as they would say things like, ‘Oh, you do have something there.’  Such affirmations of my manhood…

Actually this illustrates a truth from the Gospel – that we are far more than anyone can see by looking at externals.  There is more to the ‘package’ than meets the eye for any of us.  Each of us knows the ugliness that resides deep beneath the surface, and all have had that lousy feeling of being praised on the outside while grieving dark hearts and broken lives.  We bear scars that most will never know and experiences that we hope will remain buried in time.

I’m fortunate – my wife and daughters like the attempts (and even the beard), so I’m safe where it matters most.  But so many don’t feel safe with their secrets.  They feel exposed even where none can see – because they know what is inside – for them it feels as though it is all out there.  ‘If anyone knew…’ they think.

But God does know.  In fact, the good news is that God knows what others don’t.  The cold distances, bright lights and fast pace of life don’t obscure His view.  He knows who we are and He loves us in Jesus.  It’s that simple, really.  The Gospel finds us unfinished and the God of the Gospel sees what others miss (1 Samuel 16:7) and loves us that way – until we get Home.

This is good news.

peace.

This past week, on a flight from Orlando, Florida to Baltimore I read an interview with Johnny Depp in Vanity Fair magazine.  Through the years our family has enjoyed several of his movies.  In the interview Depp describes his life, his acting career and his future hopes.  Depp lives one of those, only-if-you-have-zillions-of-dollars lifestyles.  He owns homes in Europe and he often escapes to an island in the Caribbean that he purchased (that’s right, an entire island) that is situated next to another island he owns, I assume for the purpose of buffering anyone from living ‘next door.’  He spends his days traveling on his massive yacht (with full staff), playing guitar, painting, reading and listening to music – not to mention taking time for vacation with his family.

Somewhere in the article Depp reveals his heroes.  In fact he has named the coasts and various alcoves of the island after them.  They include actor Marlon Brando and journalist Hunter S. Thompson, to name two, both dead, Thompson by his own hand in 2005.

I wasn’t a Thompson reader, but certainly loved some of Brando’s roles, however what struck me was how Depp found ways to sort of elevate the reputations of these guys in his own mind – to make them larger than life.

And then there is Jesus.  The humility the prophets wrote of, and then His contemporaries witnessed, have never been expunged from His story.  He is still presented as the ‘suffering servant,’ the humiliated one, and as one ‘despised and rejected by men’ (Isaiah 53:3).  His dark moment in the Garden of Gethsemane has not been prettied up, nor His humiliating death erased from the woof and weft of the narrative.

In fact those who follow Jesus have come to realize that His greatness is found in His ability to sympathize with their brokenness, and His dearness is found in His unwillingness to cling to His greatness.  And it is that core humility that escapes most when they look for qualities that would define the gods they seek.

Today it occurred to me that one day someone will do with Depp what he has done with his heroes.  They will take the highlights and make them the entire reality, while Jesus directs us to the ‘lowlights’ of His earthly journey, and then invites us to find a God who refused to live above our condition.

I like that story better…

peace.

While on vacation the right side windshield wiper on our rental car malfunctioned.  And it just so happens that we are visiting during that time in Miami when it pours in the afternoon.  It was one of those things where the rubber blade began to tear away from itself, like a long piece of black pasta flopping across the glass, soon to fall away and expose the metal casing that would eventually scrape the the windshield.

Going to the rental office was only the beginning of a journey that would take me back three times with various vendors in between, before finally being approved for the wiper to be replaced at no cost to me.

In the process I was reminded that there are some things we have to deal with in our lives – some things we can’t ignore and chalk up to the ‘cheap grace’ Dietrich Bonhoeffer speaks to in his amazing book, The Cost of Discipleship.

The fact is that when they go bad windshield wipers have to be replaced – it is an undeniable safety precaution– it has to be done.  And it is equally true that there are corners of our lives that can’t remain unattended to: attitudes – mindsets – positions, you name it.  When I am honest I have to admit that there are some things I prefer to hold on to.  I don’t let go of bitterness without a fight.  I’m prone to wallow in selfish behavior.  Pride and ego stalk me wherever I go – and I let them!  It’s a long list, really.

The Gospel demands more – not perfection, but surrender – the admission of one’s weakness and the admission of one’s self to the daily process of being, ‘transformed by the renewal of your minds’ (Romans 12:2), which bears the fruit of a continuing and flourishing relationship with the Father.

It is really all about relationship.  And the reality of this relationship means that there are some things in our lives we can’t be content to settle for.  Because while living in a broken world explains our brokenness, it doesn’t excuse our sin, in the same way that being unfinished doesn’t preclude the finishing work of God in our lives.  What they do is point us to Jesus who transforms us, not with heavy handed condemnation but with nail-scarred palms, that bear evidence to His commitment to hold us in love and  grace, even as He continuously enters into our lives and He prepares the Table for the Feast we will one day share.

Friends, this is good news.

peace

Years ago, when we worked with Young People, we took them to Central Florida for a huge outdoor performance of the Passion Play.  As the title implies it was a re-enactment of the sufferings and resurrection of Jesus.  For decades Youth ministries from the region (including the one I grew up in) would travel to Lake Wales just to see the Floridian equivalent of the silver screen blockbuster, ‘King of Kings’ starring Jeffrey Hunter (the original Captain Christopher Pike, of the first USS Enterprise on Star Trek, in a later episode, I might add).

On this particular night however, shortly after the play opened, rain began to fall.  In fact it poured, and it didn’t take long for the play to close and for someone to come take the stage and offer rain checks for another show.  But we were on the first leg of a three-day retreat with our Young People.  There would be no opportunity for us to see the Passion Play the next evening, so after the rain died down I left the stands and behind the stage, to the dressing rooms where I found the actor who played Jesus removing his makeup.  He also happened to own the Passion Play and the people at the ticket booth told me that he had to approve any refund.

The funny thing is that even as I was talking with this guy I couldn’t get past the fact that he was dressed in a white robe with all the ‘Jesus’ trappings about him.  Unfortunately that is where the similarities ended.  The man wasn’t about to give up the money he had just collected.  So there, backstage, for about fifteen minutes I fought with Jesus for our money.  And amazingly, he finally relented.

To this day I still laugh out loud about that incident.  But it struck me this week (as I recounted the story to our Staff), that where this man was uncomfortable with my resistance, the real Jesus never would be.  In fact I think He invites our fight and is always ready for us to come to Him (Matthew 11:28-30), because there is something deeply honest and intimate about someone who has issues with God, and then takes them to Him before sterilizing themselves with religious buffers.  Jesus’ offer in Matthew 11 comes in the context of His denouncements of weighty legalists, so the promise of ‘rest’ is an assurance that regardless of what we ever bring, the response will always be laced with His Mercy.

A willingness to take Jesus on is evidence that we are God’s sons and daughters, or that we are headed in that direction.  Only because He is real, Jesus invites our fight, but also our sorrows, our weaknesses, our failures and our cries.  It isn’t an either-or thing.  Any true relationship demands the entire package.

My guess is that the Jesus I fought with gave in because he was old and tired.  He was the same guy who played Christ when I was a kid and so up close he looked old and weary.  He no longer had it in him to go 10 rounds.  But the real Jesus does – and He invites us to ‘bring it on.’  The Faith is that personal and we couldn’t have it any other way.

peace.

Last week was one of those where I had to mow the lawn and get a haircut within a few days of one another.  You have to understand that my hair, if not controlled, is a wild beast.  It seems that over night it mysteriously transforms me from a typical, nondescript individual to the lost twin of Moammar Kadafi (in fact, Katherine refers to me as Moammar when my hair becomes too long, or… bushy, that is).  My parents were thrilled when I graduated from Seminary because they were finally able to replace my High School graduation picture in the den (affectionately referred to as ‘the mushroom’).

Our lawn isn’t much different (and I wonder if lawns and owners are like that old cartoon that depicts people and their dogs as looking remarkably similar).  When I mow our grass it is spectacular.  But two or three rainy days with a lot of sunshine in between, and it becomes a yard worker’s (that would be me) nightmare.

Just this past week I had to constantly restart our poor machine because it couldn’t handle the thick grass.  Fortunately the barber’s razor is electrically powered!

Such is the nature of the lawn and a head full of hair – always growing, and always being trimmed.

Yesterday, while inspecting the already-growing lawn, I was reminded of this doctrine we call sanctification.  It teaches that as long as we are on the earth God is at work within us.  That’s the quick version, but it is a good starting place.  In other words, we are constantly being pruned and shaped by God’s indwelling Spirit, daily being confronted by our inner weaknesses, sins and struggles, relentlessly being challenged to live with a view toward the new heavens and the new earth, and daily being shaped to resemble Jesus more and more – a lifelong process every Christ-follower experiences. 

There are painful moments because in the process God shows us who we really are, but then there is relief as He draws us before His Throne and dispenses Grace.  And it is that daily work of God in our lives that reminds us that at one in the same time we are both unfinished, and completely loved and kept by the Father until He brings us home.

What struck me was that if we are perfectly honest, we don’t really like this process in its rawest form – because there is something in us that has a hard time believing God would love us enough to endure our garbage.  And then it hit me that the only lawns you don’t mow and the only hair you don’t cut are those that don’t grow, right?  We’re talking artificial turf and fake hair.  Because the alternative to the need for consistent maintenance is an artificial existence – an artificial appearance, even.  And so we are trimmed because we are living, breathing and growing vessels – we are human.  And God has built into His Redemptive work, a vehicle – sanctification – in which to confront our mess and keep us human all at the same time.

Friends, this is such Good News.

peace.

On Sunday we celebrated Easter – the Resurrection of Jesus.  I preached Luke’s account of two travelers joined by the Risen Christ as they made their way home to Emmaus from Jerusalem.  We typically use the event to describe yet another ‘proof’ that Jesus rose from the Grave – one more eyewitness account.  And to be sure, it is a compelling argument.  However I have found that such arguments tend to be more effective as reassurances to those who already believe in Jesus.

There is nothing wrong, and everything right with rehearsing what we have as Christ-followers.  In the Resurrection we are assured that sin has been crushed under the weight of Christ’s Righteousness – that the Grave could not hold Him, and therefore will not hold us in death.  Because Jesus has risen, we will too, and have, because we are His through faith.

But the big story is that in conquering the Grave Jesus authenticated His message that the Kingdom of God had arrived, evidenced in the meal He shared with His new friends in Emmaus.  To fully appreciate this you have to go to the first meal recorded in the Bible – when Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, in the Garden.  The first meal represented the desecration of all God had made and declared to be good.  When Jesus broke that bread and shared that meal, post-resurrection, He signaled a new day – a new hope.  The Son of God had reversed the Curse of the Garden.  Where the ‘first Adam’ (Romans 5) had eaten to our damnation, the ‘second Adam’ ate to our shared Redemption in Him.

What strikes me is that Jesus did so with two people who would remain on earth after He ascended into heaven.  He would return home, but they would still face the broken things that define a sin-stained world – and so do we.

Lesslie Newbigin, in his The Good Shepherd, says, “The Church is not an organization of spiritual giants.  It is broken men and women who can lead others to the Cross.”

Perhaps our friends’ eyes were opened when they saw the wounds on Jesus’ hands.  Whatever God used to illuminate them, in that one gesture Jesus demonstrated that a hungry world can catch glimpses of the new heavens and the new earth – not in grand sermons, but in fellow travelers that have met the Risen Christ, and who dare to share the ‘meal’ of love at the table of their lives.

peace.