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Life

Love of the Father For the Prodigal In You

Here lies hidden the great call to conversion: to look not with the eyes of my own low self-esteem, but with the eyes of God’s love. ~Henri J.M. Nouwen

Come home to the father

I squint red-rimmed eyes toward the distant hills, blue and inviting beyond dry stubble fields.

My stomach churns–the last hard crust was eaten yesterday, and the slop I carry is not for me.

Thoughts of home intrude, unwelcome. My sisters, giggling as the nourishing aromas of lentil stew and warm bread draw the others from the fields. My father will have his arm around his favored son, sharing a joke, glancing with pride at his brawny offspring, so like him–confident, competent, brave. I cringe at the memory of trophy-lined shelves with no mention of me.

They’re relieved I’ve gone, the black sheep, the bumbler, the fool–though my father would not be happy to know where I’ve washed ashore.

My face wets with dirty tears. Self-pity, shame.

My father’s intent, puzzled gaze dances in the blistering air. He never understood my dreams, my restlessness with life safe, contained, predictable.

I’m not the smart one, but I am sly, and straight lines confound me. I panted for freedom,  to find myself, to shape my own future. A thirst for wild, unfettered glory burned.

His love, like soft chains keeping me from life.

I saw the pain when I told him, demanded of him my inheritance while he lived. I knew why he stumbled–I meant my words to punch hard. It seemed to be the only way.

Far From The Father

Now life punches me back, the glittery dreams turned to tawdry dust. The good life was a purchased one, and my purse is spent.  Too late, I recognize the lie. It is not life I find when I leave the father’s embrace.

I look up, another farm hand sees my tears. His pursed lips and narrowed eyes mirror my self-verdict, “You almost killed him with unkindness. You are dead to your father. And dead you will stay.”

Come Home

An unexpected breeze caresses my parched skin. A scent lingers–sweet, wholesome, inviting. A soft whisper I barely hear: He waits for you. He longs for you. He will not rest until you are found. The child of his heart you will always be. Why wander the world for what can’t satisfy? Take one step toward the distant blue hills, and you will find yourself in his arms. Come home to the father, come home.

(Luke 15:11-32)

Do you hear the voice of the Father inviting you to come home?

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Faith Life

Elder Brother Syndrome: Common Symptoms

It is clear that the hardest conversion to go through is the conversion of the one who stayed home. ~Henri J.M. Nouwen

the elder brother syndrome

The younger brother. His memoir is the more satisfying read–the prodigal son who takes his father’s money and runs toward fortune and fame.

We vicariously thrill to the good life and nod, content, at the eating-worse-than-the-pigs moment of truth. Bad choices lead to bad things, there is justice here.

Our eyes get misty at the awkward journey home, the Father’s  breathless run of forgiving grace. It’s a story of hope. The Father, a window into God’s heart for all his wandering ones, holds out a never-expiring second chance. And joyful celebration when we come home.

The plot line is pleasing–but some of us turn the last page with a sense of dismay. We’re not in the story. The party was not for us, the ones who stayed home.

We understand the elder brother’s point of view–why does our wayward brother get the party? We, too, have known misery–without first having  any fun. Can you relate?

Elder Brother Syndrome Symptoms

  • You compare yourself with others.
  • You are resentful when others are blest.
  • You are offended by little slights.
  • You are quick to see another’s flaws.
  • You wonder if God loves others more than you.
  • You are angry when someone gets away with bad behavior.
  • You long for a blessing that always seems withheld.
  • You think God owes you for your efforts.
  • You often feel you are competing for a prize you never win.

The Elder Brother in Me

Recently, I typed a letter to God, pounding the keyboard with lament and self-pity: “Why not? Why them? Why not me?” Around word 702 it hit me–this is elder-brother stuff. God seized my moment of sanity, and I heard him whisper,

You are always with me and everything I have is yours. 

I turned to Luke 15:31 and there it was.

  • You are always with me: I choose you, want to be with you, and my heart aches for you to notice I am here. I offer you myself, not a trophy for your shelf.
  • Everything I have is yours: Life, purpose, provision, beauty, people. Most of all, my unqualified, unquenchable love.

I’m as lost as the prodigal. I, too have broken my Father’s heart. I too need to come home. I look up and with tear-blurred eyes see my Father running towards me, his arms opened wide. Every single time.

And so do you.

Do you trust this is true? 

(Luke 15:11-32)

Image Credit-flickr-Nickdawg
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Life

Sabbath Quiet: What Is Lost Will Be Found

Seek Christ, and you will find him, and with everything else thrown in. ~C. S. Lewis

What is lost is found

I Missed Him…Found Him

by George MacDonald

I missed Him when the sun began to bend; I found Him not when I had lost his rim;

With many tears I went in search of Him, climbing high mountains which did still ascend, and gave me echoes when I called my friend;

Through cities vast and charnel-houses grim, and high cathedrals where the light was dim,

Through books and arts and works without an end, but found Him not–the friend whom I had lost.

And yet I found Him–as I found the lark, a sound in fields I heard but could not mark;

I found Him nearest when I missed Him most;

I found Him in my heart, a life in frost, a light I knew not till my soul was dark.

A Prayer

You know all our weeping, fainting, striving;

You know how very hard it is to be;

How hard to rouse faint will not yet reviving;

To do the pure thing, trusting all to thee;

To hold you are there, for all no face we see;

How hard to think, through cold and dark and dearth,

That you are nearer now than when eye-seen on earth.

(Adapted, from Diary of An Old Soul)

George MacDonald (1824-1905) Scottish preacher and poet

Photograph by Melanie Hunt, River in Maine
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Faith Life

Life Is A Group Project

Ideologies separate us. Dreams and anguish bring us together. ~Eugene Ionesco

Homeless man

The dreaded Group Project.

You know what will happen. The classmate who is supposed to supply plastic dinosaurs for the diorama won’t show. Or you’ll be stuck in front of the class with visual aids for a presentation no one’s written.

Group projects are never fair, but teachers love them. The weak, the strong, the forgetful and overachiever eye each other across the room–we are in this together. We sink or swim in the same grading pool.

Why can’t we avoid these assignments? Recently, my daughter shared with me the answer:

Because life is a group project.

God Invented The Group Project

Reading through the Old Testament, my eyes glaze over when I come to lists of laws. But when read in the context of other ancient codes, God’s commands leave me stunned.

Mesopotamian kings crafted their lists as a kind of political piety–See how competent I am to rule? The laws, like the famous Code of Hammurabi, reflect a viewpoint not uncommon today: Human life is cheap, protection of property is the highest value.

We turn to Exodus and Leviticus and a different perspective emerges: Human life is sacred, property rights always come second to human dignity and well-being.

Biblical law leans away from self-interest, away from the obvious and easy. And commands us to remember.

  • Remember what it was like to be powerless and mistreated.
  • Remember how I showed you mercy.
  • Remember how I rescued and cared for you.

Now do the same for others.

By default, humans choose the way of Hammurabi over the way of God. Things over people, me over us, us over them.

Group project

But every once in a while, you find a place where ears are tuned to God’s voice, where a group project is beautifully assembled.

In Chicago, a little church with a big heart houses a warming center for homeless men and gathers as a community for homemade meals, prepared in honor of their vagrant guests. Last week I sat in the cozy church basement enjoying a tamales dinner my kids helped prepare.

Group project

Little Church with a big heart

These mainly young adults have grasped that life is a group project, that they are to imitate God, who created us to need one another, and to thrive when we choose to put people first.

Here’s my question for you: In life’s great group project, what were you assigned to bring?

Your part matters, so don’t forget to show up.

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Life

12 Things My Dog Is Trying To Teach Me

We treat our dogs as if they were almost human. That’s why they really become almost human in the end. ~ C.S. Lewis

Dog wisdom

Something about a dog teaches us what it means to be human. Maybe it’s their tug on our shirt-tails as we struggle up the ladder in our attempt to be as gods.

A wagging tale, a tennis ball, well-drooled dropped at our feet. An offended glance at the empty food dish. Dogs humble us, remind us we are not the divine beings we are pretending to be. Yet they love us anyway.

If you are a dog lover, you need no explanation for this post. If you are not, (and I see you rolling your eyes), bear with me. I’ve received some wordless wisdom through the years from Pixie (shown here, enjoying a quiet moment), and thought it a good time to share:

12 Things My Dog Is Trying To Teach Me

  1. Life is not a race, stop and sniff the bushes.
  2. People matter. Drop what you are doing when someone walks in.
  3. Embrace distractions–they may be worth the chase.
  4. A silent presence is more welcome than annoying barks.
  5. Sit very still, patient and alert, and good things will be given to you.
  6. A nap is a good way to make time go faster when you’re stuck at home all alone.
  7. A roll in the grass, or a good long chew, will make most problems go away.
  8. Be clear about your boundaries where others are concerned.
  9. Finding a good family is better than life lived alone.
  10. You can forgive and forget most offenses–never hold a grudge.
  11. Be grateful for all things, even mysterious crumbs on the floor.
  12. What you have done, the messes you’ve made, are not what determines how much you are loved.

Have you benefited from canine wisdom? What wisdom would your dog add?

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Faith Life

Sabbath Quiet: Song of Joy

Alas for those who never sing, but die with all their music in them. ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

song of joy

A Song of Joy

Joyful, joyful, we adore thee, God of glory, Lord of love; hearts unfold like flowers before thee, opening to the sun above.

Melt the clouds of sin and sadness, drive the dark of doubt away; giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day.

All thy works with joy surround thee, earth and heaven reflect thy rays, stars and angels sing around thee, center of unbroken praise.

Field and forest, vale and mountain, flowery meadow, flashing sea, chanting bird and flowing fountain, call us to rejoice in thee.

Thou art giving and forgiving, ever blessing, ever blest, well-spring of the joy of living, ocean depth of happy rest!

Thou our Father, Christ our brother, all who live in love are thine; teach us how to love each other, lift us to the joy divine.

Mortals, join the happy chorus which the morning stars began; Father love is reigning over us, brother love binds man to man.

Ever singing, march we onward, victors in the midst of strife; joyful music leads us sun-ward in the triumph song of life.

Henry van Dyke (1770-1933)

Click here: Song of Joy, just for fun

Image Credit: Ted Martinson
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Faith Life

Do It Anyway

You can chase a dream that seems so out of reach, and you know it might not ever come your way. Dream it anyway. ~Martina McBride

Do it anyway

Lately I’ve been reading the book of Exodus with new ears.

Beyond those ancient stories, the dusty desert murmurs, the dry-throated encounters with angels or enemies, a theme song soars:

Do It Anyway.

A nation in slavery. Their backs broken, bodies caked with Nile mud, chasing a quota they will never fill. Disposable labor for a Pharaoh with dreams of glory, and a heart-hardened rule. Billions of  bricks baked, for no pay, to build monuments to his power.

And in the heavens? A pantheon of indifferent gods. And somewhere, a half-forgotten God who seems to be asleep while first-born sons are hunted. And midwives told to kill the very ones they’re trained to save.

What chance do we have?  Our eyes tells us its true–we are too little, the odds are against us, the empires will crush us, the tyrants defeat us, the brick-walled obstructions allow no escape. Who are we to attempt the impossible, to follow burning-bush callings, to defy iron fists?

But there’s that song on the breeze, a tune we’ve forgotten,

Do It Anyway.

What’s stopping you? What walls tower before you? What tyrants and temptations drain away your dreams? Whose voice  has you convinced to stay paralyzed and impotent, when another voice is calling you by name?

We never learn the Pharaoh’s name, but the midwives who refused to cower are remembered still today. The Egyptian Empire crumbled, the pantheon resigned; the slaves became the chosen ones, and

Moses, doubtful and disheartened, became a friend of God.

Because He Did It Anyway.

Exodus 1:15-17    Exodus 33:11

Are you facing a mountain of excuses and discouragement? Do It Anyway.

Marina McBride’s, Anyway

 image credit: flickr-Tillman
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Faith Life

Waiting For The Sun To Rise

You must give your burden up to someone else, and you must carry someone else’s burden. ~Charles Williams

waiting for the sun

Well, there you are. Coffee mug pressed to cheek, you’re waiting for the rising sun’s warmth, and dreading the day.

You’ve considered changing your status to “Avoiding People” and heading back to bed.

The hours stretch before you like a gauntlet–flaming, spinning swords; you, dodging and dancing, stumbling out the end. You light a candle, and mutter a plea you will make it through intact.

As the sky begins to lighten, you dream of a you-centered world . People say what you wish, and fit your desires: a fantasy.

And perhaps a fantasy life is best, an alternative everything alive in your head. You get to write the script, stage every the action, provide for your every need. Applause and delight, the only part others play.

So predictable, so safe. The first step towards hell.

Descent Into Hell

It was one of the 15 Books That Found Me. A theological thriller, I purchased it because the author, Charles Williams, was an Inkling–that Oxford band of literary brothers–along with C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. Descent into Hell is a tough, but shattering read.

The theme of the book is co-inherence–what happens to one, affects us all–and to ignore that truth is to slowly die. But when we set out to “bear one another’s burdens” we discover the path to life.

In response to pain, Lawrence Wentworth chooses to live for himself, to create an inner world of his own making. In response to fear, Pauling Anstruther turns outward and embraces self-giving love.

We follow them, as every small choice to serve self or to serve others leads one to inner torment and the other to fearless joy.

Waiting For The Sun, Again

There you are. Coffee mug pressed to cheek, you are waiting for the sun’s warmth, eager for the day. You drink in the quiet and pray for the adventures that await. Whose burden will you lift today? What sorrow will you share?

The hours stretch before you–there will be so many chances. Your dance card will fill–with the sad-eyed, the frustrated, the weary, the bitter. Even the turned-inward ones will wander your way. You’ll get no applause, no glad adoration–just a glint in their eyes, a new spring in their step.

And your own soul being saved.

(Philippians 2:12-13       Galatians 6:2)

Which way are you leaning, while waiting for the Son?

 

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Faith Life

Sabbath Quiet: Does God Care?

Jesus provides for us the clearest picture of the nature of God. We see in Jesus the compassion of God, the tenderness of God, and the desire of God to care for us. ~James Bryan Smith

God cares for all he has made.

Do We Care?

Can I see another’s woe, and not be in sorrow too? Can I see another’s grief, and not seek for kind relief?

Can I see a falling tear, and not feel my sorrow’s share? Can a father see his child weep, not be with sorrow filled?

Can a mother sit and hear an infant groan, an infant fear? No, no! never can it be! Never, never can it be!

Does God Care?

And can he who smiles on all, hear the wren with sorrows small, hear the small bird’s grief and care, hear the woes that infants bear,

And not sit beside the nest, pouring pity in their breast; and not sit the  cradle near, weeping tear on infants’ tear; wiping all our tears away?

And not sit both night and day, O! no, never can it be! Never, never can it be!

He doth give his joy to all; he becomes an infant small; He becomes a man of woe; he doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not thou canst sigh a sigh, and thy maker is not by; think not thou canst weep a tear, and thy maker is not near.

O! he gives to us his joy that our grief he may destroy; till our grief is fled and gone he doth sit by us and moan.

William Blake (1757-1827), English poet and artist titled this children poem, “On Another’s Sorrow,” from Songs of Innocence and Experience

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Culture Faith Life

Losing The Boxes: Why Accepting Others Is The Better Way

If I wait for others to be what I want them to be, I will never accept them. ~James Bryan Smith

I like boxes. Which is why the word acceptance can make me squirm. It seems too close to easy tolerance, the slippery slope into chaos that begins with a “whatever” shrug.

A substitute teacher reads the paper while the bullies have their way. Scout badges are handed out and slackers get the same. The neighbor boy grabs your toy and your parents think he’s cute.

We rightly fear a life-song with indifference as its tune.

So, perhaps like me, you draw a line, dole out your response. Approving applause or stiff-faced disdain, we sort people, good from bad; and put them into boxes, where we hope they’ll safely stay.

But what happens when the “bad” box is full and I stand  in the “good” box alone? Or what happens when it’s me I disdain, and I can’t find a way to get out?

Jesus’ command to “love your enemies” is for boxed-in moments like those. Love your enemies and pray for them, because there will be times when the enemy is everyone, and you still need people to love. 

God Has No Boxes

When we learn that God has no boxes, we find the courage to toss ours.

Accept one another just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God (Romans 15:7). The Greek word for “accept” means “to welcome someone into your home, into your closest circles of family and friendship.” Yes, God did that for you…and for the guy in the other box.

Outside The Box

I used to roll my eyes at people who had dogs. They smell, bark, pee, chew, whine, scratch, slobber. Why invite the mess?

Then sweet Pixie arrived, bringing delight and disarray. Hair on the couch, stains on the carpet, chewed up treasures–the list goes on and on. But she’s in our hearts, she’s family, and at her worst I know it best.

People aren’t dogs, but you get my point.

In Embracing the Love of God, James Bryan Smith promises, “God looks not to our strengths but to our weaknesses as a means of inserting his love in our hearts.”

A very un-boxlike strategy we can use.

Do you have boxes that may need to be tossed?

 

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