The Kingdom of God is like...

The Kingdom of God is like waking up one day, realizing you are completely naked and discovering so is everyone else.

The Kingdom of God is like going to get some Dove dark chocolate and having the joy of giving your piece away to the neighbor who looks like they need it.

The Kingdom of God is like picking up the biggest boulder you and find and because you are carrying it for a brother, finding it's weight can be managed.

The Kingdom of God is weeping with those who weep, questioning with those who question, searching with those who seek, finding peace is the tension.

The Kingdom of God is the moment when you realize all that you thought you should run from, you should be running toward.

The Kingdom of God is the middle of the Oreo, getting through the crusty edges to the sweet center.

The Kingdom of God is the outrageous laughter that wells up inside in the middle of the tears that later no one can explain.

The Kingdom of God is in the dark and the scary and the lonely and the broken just as much as it is in the sunlight and the joy and the laughter and the unity.  Both contain God but not all of God.

The Kingdom of God is in the moment when some one you love needs something, and you discover you have it.  And you realize you have it because some one you love would need it.

The Kingdom of God is in the silence, and in the breaking of the silence.

The Kingdom of God is in the redemption, in my life time and beyond it.

The Kingdom of God is in the annoyance of the big fat wood bee, and all of the imperfections that insert themselves into my world.  Oh that I might conquer the fear and learn to stand still with them.

The Kingdom of God is under the umbrella of a imperfect stranger, in the ridiculous sunglasses of companion, in the repetition of a story. 

The Kingdom of God is in the small circle of friends who love deeply, and in the large crowd who loves not at all.

The Kingdom of God is in the release of those I love, into the Hands who love better.

The Kingdom of God is the moment that God sweeps me up into His arms and we dance.

Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done. 

Amen, and Amen

Saying Goodbye

I am not good at saying goodbye.  Ask anyone you like.  They will all say the same thing...I talk too long at the door, I have one more thing to say, I say I will be in touch, we will see each other again, yadda yadda yadda.  The act of 'this is the end' is very hard for me. 

Strangely enough, being in 'the end' is less hard for me.  Once the goodbye is over and the initial wave of grief hits me, living the goodbye is easier.  I don't mean I am not connected with friends and don't miss loved ones who have moved, graduated into eternity, or have just stopped communicating.  I just mean when the door closes, the door closes.  I don't typically stand on the outside beating on it, or checking back to see if it is open now, or it the lock is wobbly, or try to slide stuff under the door.  I just move on, sometimes with anger, frustration, resentment, or relief, joy, gratitude.  Why do you suppose I can't close the door all that well, but once it is closed, that baby is closed?!

I am at the end of my journey in the Spiritual Formation Academy.  I am looking around the room thinking some of these people will never cross my path again.  I am wondering how it will be in a few days when I drive away for the last time, what the last communion service will be like, how I will say goodbye to the darling people who have moved into my heart.  I am also wondering what it will be like when I no longer think of these folks all that often, or at all.  When the relationship changes, we lose touch and I am no longer current in their lives.  Will the place that they held remain?  And if it does not, why do you suppose that is?

Many seasons in my life have come to a close.  High school, college, neighborhood groups, navy  communities, church communities, small groups, classes.  I enjoyed them fully when they were active and on going.  I would have said I was fully invested in these communities; I can still name many of the participants, tell the stories, remember the significant moments. I believe my life and my heart were touched and yet, the season passes and I am not pining for those folks, or that place or even a do over of the time.
Is this a good thing, or a bad one?

I am inclined to see it as good, after all I am living in the present moment, looking ahead to what lies next.  No looking back, pressing on.  I am pretty sure this is scriptural and that of course settles the matter.   I hope it is not that I dislike pain and so avoid it at all cost.  I hope it is not that I am too shallow to let things impact me deeply.  I sure hope it is not that my attention span is so short, I can't focus on anything long enough to get broken up.  Surely it is not that I am an experience junkie, having drawn out of an experience all that I could, I drop that one off and look for a new one.  I am pretty sure none of those negative things could be true of such a deep, nurturing, bonding, fully focused being such as my self.  It is the hand to the plow thing, it is the taken hold of that which Christ took hold of kind of thing, I am sure.  Almost completely.

But just in case, just in case, I am praying about those other things.  Just in case I am afraid of suffering and sacrifice, I am  going to ask about that.   Just in case I am too eager to move on to the next thing, when a moment spent reflecting on this one, I am going to ask about that too.  I am willing to ask the questions, the jury remains out about my ability to hear the answers.

In this moment, all that matters is that God is God, I am not, and God is up to the challenged of opening the eyes of the blind, even the blind like me.  Saying goodbye this time could be a new experience.  It might become a hello of an entirely different kind.

PUSH

The story is told of a man who is visited by God.  God takes him outside his cabin and points to a large bolder.  God tells the man to push against the boulder until God passes his way again.  The man is puzzled but obedient and each morning he rises early and he heads outside to push against the boulder.  He takes a small break for lunch and returns to push the boulder until sunset.  Day after day after day the man pushes the boulder until months go by, finally a year, then two.  One day, God returns and he finds the man exhausted, feeling defeated, sitting in the shade of the boulder.  God inquires why he has stopped pushing the boulder,  "Day after day," the man replies, "I have pushed against this boulder.  I pushed the boulder in the sunshine, in the rain.  I pushed when people came to visit and when I was alone.  Faithfully, I have pushed this boulder and in all this time, the boulder has not moved.  Today I have given up.  I cannot move this boulder."  God inquires gently, "Who asked you to move the boulder?" 

I just need to say that I am not fond of this story.  I know it is a parable of sorts, and of course it makes a good point.  We often assume that when we are given a job to do, some results ought to occur.  After all, what kind of a job is it to stand and push against a boulder.  Surely one must expect that with time the boulder would move and we would see the results of all that hard work.  Who could expect us to find great fulfillment simply in pushing? 

Who asked you to move the boulder?  A very good question, of course, just an infuriating one.  I know that when God asks us to do something, God is not required to explain the request,  God is God after all and we are not.  It is just hard for me, really close to impossible, to do a job I have been asked to do that seems to make no sense.  No logical, practical, measurable, valuable, even intangibly rewarding sense.  Push the boulder, push the boulder, push the boulder.  Why, why, why?

Since it seems that I am often given jobs like pushing against boulders and see little or no results of this labor, I am re-examining this little parable to figure out how I might push with more joy and less frustration.   First thing I note is that God comes to see me.  This is pretty astounding, and well worth pondering.  After all, who am I that God would come to visit?  I am no one, except for the identity I have in God.  I am His child and for no reason, God loves me abundantly and unconditionally. He entrusts me with His presence and is willing to give me a job.  This is just pretty awesome, actually. 

Then I think about what it means to be assigned a responsibility by God, or called into service, as we like to say in steeple speech.  I like to think I am called into mission and ministry, I am just not always clear that I know how.  I am often confused because I thought I was called to make disciples and further God's kingdom.  Maybe  I was called to keep trying to make disciples and further God's kingdom.  The difference is small but important: I keep pushing, God covers the movement part. 

Finally, I think about how tired I get sometimes.  I don't get a little weary, or that really satisfied tired.  I get empty tired, like when you have been sick for a little while and you begin to wonder if you will ever feel good again.  Its an ugly tired and it leaves me wondering if I made up the whole call thing.  Why is that?  Why do I get that tired, and build up resentment ,and focus on the minor annoyances instead of the major joys.   I think I forget about being faithful and obedient, and instead focus on the results of all that pushing that tell me I am doing a good job.  My attention span is limited, God seems to be slow in returning, and I wonder if it matters at all that I go on pushing this ridiculous boulder.  Faithfulness and obedience are not really qualities that are prized in the world I am surrounded by.   I am burning up and out because I am trying to make my culture fit into my relationship with  God.  It cannot work that way, I know that.  Yet, still I repeat the same mistake over and over again. 

Then God stops by to see me again. " Dear one", God says to me, "why are you heart sick and defeated?"  "It's this darn boulder God, it wont move, it just sits there day after day.  I have read all the right books, I have worked long hours, I have pushed with creativity, and intelligence, and passion and vision.  I am your most reliable pusher.  I don't take made up holidays off, I am always looking for ways to push better.  And nothing, it isn't budging!"  "Yes, I see that", God responds to me.  "But honey, who asked you to move the boulder?"