The End of the World, take two

We have been through another one of those times when there was an expectation, at least on the part of some people, that Jesus would return.  There were the typical snide and cynical responses; no one seemed to be overly concerned about whether this could be a reality, some thought it a good opportunity to get out of something they would rather not do.  I remember that feeling.  I remember walking around the days just prior to finals while I was in college and praying that if it was time for Jesus to return, I was okay with that. 

The thing is, we don't think Jesus is coming.  Oh yes, we say that we think Jesus is coming, but we don't think Jesus is coming.  We don't think we are going to die, that Jesus will return, that there will one day be a last day.  We have long lost that feeling of expectancy, that we might turn a corner and run into Jesus unawares.  We feel offended when death takes one that we love, as if there was ever a chance that one day it would not.  We believe we are immortal and when we come face to face with our mortality, we are shell shocked and outraged. 

Recently, I have the scary experience of being in the general vicinity of a tornado.  It did an amazing amount of damage to the area around me, there was a terrible loss of home and lives.  I was ashamed that I had been spared any suffering really, beside inconvenience.  Survivors guilt, I think we call it, is real.  When you see how much others have lost and you are safe and secure, it is deeply humbling.  But beyond the guilt response, it was the drive out of the area that has left the deepest impression.  I drove through some of the prettiest spring countryside, beautiful colors, brilliant sunshine peaking through brand new leaves.  Then, I would turn a corner and there would be uprooted trees, scattered bricks, roofless homes, naked foundations, vacant wandering people, gathering up possessions.  Then, another turn and the devastation was out of sight again and a darling home with a beautiful landscaped lawn moved into view.  How can that be even possible? Yet, this is the way life is, only mostly we can pretend it is not.

Last week I lost a friend to death.  His death was a relief as the diseased that riddled his body made breathing difficult and frightening and it was a blessing when he didn't have to draw a breath again.  He was a planner extraordinaire.  He continued planning while he was no longer able to talk by writing notes and asking questions.  He had more drive and more energy than anyone I have ever met, and had the unique gift of allowing people to retain their dignity when he offered help.  I sat during at his funeral, looking at a picture of him, his eyes sparking with life, and thought about how he had fought through heart surgery with indignant impatience knowing he had always taken care of himself.  How dare his heart behave so badly?!  By the time I knew he was sick this time, he had already taken months to deal with it and had come to some sort of understanding.  If he was to die, he would die as prepared as he could be.  He planned his funeral, he picked the music, he got his affairs in order, he no doubt left a detailed plan for his wife to follow.  Somehow he made death a part of his plan for life.  I can tell you that though I will miss him dreadfully, and I am sure that the hole he leaves behind will never be filled in quite the same way, I am confident that he is happy and content today.  He is at work in the eternal kingdom, getting the lay of the land, and figuring out what needs to be done.  I hope he met my dad, and they talked about me.  They would like each other, I am sure. 

One day one of the predictors will get it right, Jesus is coming back, you know.  I can't help but wonder if I lived with this reality as a part of my daily plan, as my friend Wendell lived with his death as a part of his, that my life would run on deeply different lines.  Would I really sweat the small stuff that keeps me tossing and turning these days...I think not.

I am thinking it's time to pack a bag.  I wish we would all get ready!

So, how much am I worth, anyway?!

Somewhere deep inside of all the grown ups I know, is a little child who never quite grew up.  Along the way, some of the injuries life inflicts seem to prevent us from being able to fully grow up as whole people, and that inner child keeps those wounded spots alive and kicking, I guess until God heals them up.  My inner child can be so darn rude, popping in at the most inconvenient moments, and helping me act just like a small child in a grown up body.  What a terrible combination.  The only reason I can still go out in public is that my inner child has many friends.  We all hang out together in the ashamed section.

Most of the people I know have moments when the small child within them comes out to play with the small child in me.  Sometimes this results in hysterical laughter until my eyes water and one of us needs to make a bathroom run.  Sometimes this results in dead silence when the inner child is asking those outrageous questions or making those uncomfortable statements that are hard to answer. Sadly there are times when the children throw horrible fits that cause even more damage.   They may be children, but they now have grown ups tools to make sticks and stones look puny when compared to the words they can use.

My inner child can certainly throw a fit, almost always over the same unresolved issue: do I have any value?   I wish I could remember a time when it was pointed out to me as a  wee small child, or an adolescent, or whenever it occurred,  that I have no intrinsic value.  I don't know where it comes from, but my inner little one is fairly sure even when counted together, we are not worth a nickle.  So sure that is true that there has been a full scale government conspiracy type of cover up to develop deep protective layers to keep that sneaky little truth from going public.  When those barriers are threatened, woe be unto anyone who walks into the crossfire.  Messy, messy, messy.

I remember learning  somewhere that the chemicals that make up the body were worth about $10.  I am hopeful with inflation it's more like...you know...$12.  But even without counting the $12, I am aware that I am a precious child of God, worth so much that Jesus laid down everything to establish a way for the love of God to flow through the sin and death to life and redemption.  I know this, I have taught it, and I stand by it with absolute conviction that, while I do not even know enough about the nature of God to fill a thimble, I know this.  I have had personal revelation, scriptural basis, affirmation from the community of believers, and two thousand years of tradition to back up this position.  John Wesley would be proud.

So the question remains, how can I know this so well intellectually,  and still have this renegade little monster inside of me yelling "man the cannons boys, this is war" at odd moments.  The ego says I am smart enough to figure this out, after all I can figure out all manner of things.  I have spent much too much time pondering, studying, contemplating, praying, poking, interviewing, and even googling and still nothing!  I don't have a clue.  I only know this, reason isn't the solution.  The fear is so deep seated that prune as I may, I cannot weed it out.   I do not have a white flag, but if I did, I would be waving it. I surrender, which I think was probably the smartest thing I have done yet.

Two years on a journey into spiritual formation is teaching me this: with God truly all things are possible.  God needs no help from me, but if I am able to adopt a daily rule of life that keeps me centered in God's presence, leaning on God's power ,and trusting in God's grace, the journey may be more fun and certainly more peaceful.   In the last two weeks I have mastered nothing, but become much more aware of the reactions when they occur.  I am finding that noticing helps!  It may even lead to anticipation, and who knows, one day to discovering where the sore spot used to be is just a little bruise.  Maybe that little one inside of me, still worried about discovery, might grow up.  You know, to an adolescent.  Then I could buy the convertible,  play rock, and roll real loud, and maybe get blond highlights. 

So how much am I worth?!  Priceless.

Good Friends

There is just not anything in the world as good as when you find someone who loves the stuff you love.  I don't mean who loves you, though that is just pretty cool too!  I mean those people who find the same things funny without having to explain why.   Who make eye contact with you, when something funny has just happened, and you both fall out laughing, or bite your lip to keep from doing something.  Isn't that delightful?

Or the people who love to go shopping with you, for the same things you like to go shopping for.  Who are happy wandering aimlessly, or love finding the bargain.  Who will notice you wearing, or carrying, or decorating with that one of a kind, on sale today only item and relive the joy of discover with you, over and over again.  Isn't that amazing?

Or the people who have read the same books you have read and have the same response or questions or articulate perfectly for you what you thought.  I think people who can summarize my thoughts are worth their weight in oil (if that is more precious than gold these days).  I want to applaud!  They always make me sound smarter than I am, and how wonderful is that!

Or how about those people who know how to brew the best coffee.  I love those people!  I love the first sip and the delightful surprise at how awesome this particular coffee tastes.  I think these people have some secret recipe or perhaps they have a brown thumb, but their coffee is worth driving to get and their conversation is always as good as their coffee.  I love these folks, aren't they remarkable?

I guess my favorite folks are those who are as comfortable as a old pair of shoes.   Who always seem to fit and who make me fit, who can talk for hours or not at all, who will always tell you if you have green stuff in your teeth or it you need to pull up your zipper, and some how not make you feel stupid.  I love that you can tell them the outrageous thing you have just done and they laugh with you, or cry with you, or just love you in your horror.  I believe these people belong in the beatitudes; as blessed are you who make others at home, for yours is the heart of God.  I know God dotes on them.

Since they are so delightful, I am left to wonder why it is there are not more of them.  Why are they as rare as diamonds and when you find one, it's all you can do not to  handcuff them to your side so you wont lose them ever again.  I am confused why the Body of Christ is not a vast sea of like-mindedness and shared vision and this kind of relationship that feeds the soul so much.  Surely this is what the Body ought to do for one another.  Paul says the same kind of thing in Philippians 2:

¹ Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, ² then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. ³ Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, ⁴ not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.

I confess freely that I am not more like-minded than anyone else.  I like things my way, I am not always tender or compassionate, and I am not at all sure I value others above myself.  I try, really I do.  I walk into a conversation all gracious, and kind, and caring, and I walk out at times feeling frustrated, violated and fed up.  In those golden moments when the opportunity occurs for me to connect, as Paul calls me to do, it is always  a blessing, a gift and a life affirming moment, and I want more, more, more.  How is it that I forget all this so quickly when the environment isn't so conducive for fellowship?  Is it that I am called to create this for others, rather than worry if it is being created for me?  Is it that my pride keeps me from making the attempt to be like-minded?  Is it that when broken people collide, without the grace of God, injury occurs from the jagged edges? 

Maybe the secret is in delighting in being the kind of person others can laugh with, who can summarize thought well, who feels like a pair of comfortable old shoes to the world around them.  Wonder how letting Christ be Lord of my life, and letting others just be fellow pilgrims, would change how we interact.   Maybe it truly is in giving that we receive, in seeking that we find, in dying to self that we find life in Christ.  Having the same love, being in the same Spirit, having the same mind, all centered in Christ, sounds like the  Just maybe.

Coffee, anyone?