The Lives of the Saints

I never read about saints before now. At best the idea of a saint evoked a picture of someone’s grandmother singing in the pews. At worst, a saint was graven image dominating a sanctuary taking glory away from God. Now I see that the saints provide stories that help us see God in places we might not otherwise see God.

This revelation came about as part of a lovely gift I was given on Tuesday.  Tuesday I went to a meeting at Brite Divinity School. It was my second visit and I was not terribly excited, after all I had been there once already. What an amazing day it turned out to be! I was able to attend a lecture about paradise and repentance using ancient Christian art to support the points. Then, I heard the stories of the saints.

The stories of men and women who had faithfully followed the call of God on their lives were told by their children. Intimate stories of Saturday nights spent rehearsing sermons and kitchens caught on fire when parishioners needed help.  Underneath the stories told you could almost hear the untold stories; stories of nights when personal children were neglected in favor of helping another, stories of spouses left to amuse themselves for hours while emergencies unfolded, stories of saints and their families sacrificing in an effort to show the world God’s love.

Then I read the stories of Saint Scholastica and her brother St. Benedict.  Scholastica and Benedict were twins who were fully devoted to God. They lived out there lives in seclusion following strict rules of conduct and discipline. One night just before her death, Scholastica and Benedict met for their annual night away together. He wanted to leave to keep the requirements of his monastery. She wanted him to stay and fellowship with her. She prayed and cried and God sent a rain storm that prevented his leaving. The next morning, he left after they had spent the hours of the night in discussion about God and servings. She died a few days later. He buried her in the tomb prepared for him at the monastery.

Her story illustrates that even though discipline is an important part of our life with God, a greater part is the relationships we are entrusted to maintain.

The lives of the saints serve to illustrate. I think of other saints I know and the stories of their lives. I think of my friend who daily strives to serve God with all of her being. I think of her struggles to know God intimately and bring others to a similar relationship. She does all of this while sacrificing time with her children, all of this while supporting others to do the same. My other friend teaches and daily inspires others to become all that they can. She does not get to talk about Jesus to her students but her daily presence is a testimony worth many books.

“Do whatever he tells you” Mary said this to the servants at the wedding feast in Cana. Whatever he tells you is sometimes as simple as filling a jug with water.  Sometimes whatever he tells you is to use your gifts to serve others.

The lives of the saints are not always told in statues and story books; most of the time the stories of saints are told over kitchen tables to grandchildren and friends. 

Limits

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it” (Matt 16:24-25)

It is hard to imagine that it has come to this. It is hard to imagine that life is radically changing yet again. On Saturday, “the German” is headed home.  Festivities have been planned and in the midst of the festivities there is packing. With packing comes decision making. There is a set weight limit over which she cannot go. The limit, once reached, is the limit.

Limits are part of life. Boundaries are necessary.  One of my favorite things about God though is that God is boundless. God’s abilities are limitless. God’s love is without measure.

My love is full of measures. I can love this much but no more.  I can accept this but I cannot accept more than this. I am finite.

How easy it would be to take Jesus’ death on the cross and create a boundary. God would have loved us all but the Jews crucified Jesus so God cannot love them. God would have loved us all but the Native Americans never knew Jesus so they are not granted salvation. God would have loved us all but…

Having a qualifier denotes a limit. God is love. There is no qualifier on that statement.

In my Lenten devotional today’s lesson is called “Our own crosses”.   Accepting these crosses in our lives, the author says, is the key to happiness.  When we refuse to carry our cross, when we sit in angry denial of an uncomfortable or unpleasant situation in our life, we cut ourselves off from full experience of God’s amazing love.

I do not like my crosses. I do love my God and trust that in God there is strength to carry my cross.  I trust that through God’s amazing redemptive power there is hope that my cross will be transformed.

Our German daughter is leaving on Saturday. She is packing her bags and working to stay within the limits. I am working to live in the limitless grace of my Lord and Savior.

Dream

Anxiety rises up in my throat. I want to escape. My heart is racing erratically and tears threaten to overtake me.

In the dream last night, he ran up to me. His little eyes twinkling like they did right before he did something he knew he was not supposed to. I knelt down there in the crowded aisle and opened my arms. He wrapped his little body around me.  His little hands, never chubby little hands on that one, wrapped around my neck. I could feel his breath as he told me “I miss you”.

I held him and cried and tried to figure out how I could get him back. My mind in its dream state went through a million problem solving scenarios. There was no way though. There was no way I could get him back. He was gone.

He was gone. He is gone. There is no sacrifice that can be made that will bring him back.  In waking, music begins to play in my mind. “I won’t give up on you” are the words sung over and over. I cannot make myself move from the bed but in my mind I stretch out in dance. I won’t give up on him and God won’t give up on me and there is hope and there is life and that more abundant but for now I am not moving.

The bed is safe and the anxiety that threatens to overwhelm me keeps me from moving from this safe place.

A million unanswered disappointments from yesterday are waiting to be dealt with today.  A million places where the wrong words were said and the wrong action chosen have my stomach tied in knots. If I could hide here in this bed I would. I would hide here for years.

But.  But staying in bed is not an option.  There are four girls downstairs who need my presence. There are four girls who are living and breathing and fighting through the anxieties of life. I am to walk with them even if my stomach is hurting and my mind is screaming. I am to walk with them because I know in a little while the fog of this memory will lift. The fog will lift and I will dance again but this time I will dance in joy, in reality.

There is a hope in the reality of pain. There is hope because there is a season for all things.  After a time of pain, there is a place for healing. After digging up the grass, seeds can be planted that will grow strong and beautiful.  After a time of beauty, there will be a time of pain. The flower must die in order for the seeds to be free. 

Now is the time to begin the day. Now is the time to face the anxiety. Now I will rise up and say “I miss you” and “I love you”. And somewhere, somewhere out in the big wide world, he will know that he is loved and missed and treasured.

Thank God for Jesus, Roses, and Facebook

“He said to them, ‘where is your faith’?  They were afraid and amazed, and said to one another, “Who then is this, that he commands even the winds and the water, and they obey him?” (Luke 8:25)

I’m drying roses for the prayer room. The children will take the rose petals, eucalyptus and mint leaves and tie them together in a sachet in remembrance of Jesus praying in the garden of Gethsemane.  My house smells like cake from the roses drying in the oven.  I never would have thought that drying roses would smell like cake.

I also never that giving up Facebook would turn into a spiritual exercise. The hardest time to not use Facebook is when I have those moments of down time, like last night at Althea’s game. It would have been nice to check in on the rest of the world while I was sitting in the gym. Then, as I remembered not to use it, I was forced to talk to the people beside me to pass the time.  I talked with the mother of one of Althea’s friends and I visited with the parents of another teammate. I texted my friends to check on babies and sick children. I interacted with specific people regarding specific concerns.  I even watched more of the game.

Things are not always what we assume they are. We are reading through the Gospels in Disciple class and I keep thinking about these guys who walked with Jesus. So far in Luke their most frequent comment is “who is this guy?”

This was a man they had traveled with and lived with. They knew all of his habits. They knew which foods he liked. They had left their careers and families to follow him. They studied his words and actions every day all the time and yet. And yet, they still asked “Who is this?”

I would have expected the drying roses to smell like roses.  I would have expected giving up Facebook to be a time saver.  I would have expected that following Jesus would result in material blessings and comfort. But, the drying roses smell like cake and giving up Facebook is more like a spiritual exercise and following Jesus is costing me material blessings.

Thank God for the loss of these material blessings! Thank God that my life is not what I had planned it to be. Thank God that while I fumble and question and fail, God is revealing mercy and compassion and salvation.  Thank God!

Lent Day 2

“And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed-and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” (Luke 2:33-35)

My friend challenged me saying “Really?  Checking Facebook one time a day doesn’t count as giving something up”. Now, she is an expert at Lent. This is my first excursion into Lent. Last night, I went to my first ever Ash Wednesday service.  The service was amazing, moving, and life changing. As the people went to the front to confess their sins and receive the imposition of the ashes, I watched the hands of the pastors become covered in the filth of the ashes.  I thought of our Jesus becoming covered in the filth of death and then rising triumphantly. Then we left the sanctuary with an external and visible symbol of an internal and invisible change in our lives, reminiscent of the believer’s baptism received in other churches.

So my Lenten decision is called into question at the same time that I participate in an extremely moving ceremony of repentance and commitment.  God never seems to work on just one level or just on one area.  Today is also the day when my friend is delivering her second miracle baby and I happen to be reading through Luke. Can you imagine your beautiful new child being held by the respected priest and the priest looks right at you and says “a sword will pierce your own soul too”?   As parents we all have a small inkling that our children create in us a vulnerability to being pierced. As new parents though we have no idea that piercing is guaranteed.

Mary had been told that her son would be great and that he would reign over the house of Jacob. But understanding Jesus is never simple. The one who would reign over the house of Jacob would also be a sign that will be opposed. How would Mary hold these thoughts together in one mind? Would she forget pieces of them from time to time as she and Joseph lived their lives busy with daily tasks? How would living with Jesus change their perspective?

Living with Jesus changes perspective. To try to hold on to just one facet of Jesus is impossible. We see different images as the days move on. Some days we see the kindness of our Savior. Some days the focus is on our Savior’s call to do and be salt and light. Some days all we can do is hold on to the comfort that we find in the arms of one who has triumphed over death and pain and sadness. My favorite days though are the days we feel, if even briefly, what it means to have life and have it more abundantly. Those days when we know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the God of the Universe love us, those are the best days.

What then do I do with the thought that my Lent sacrifice is not sacrifice enough? What do I do with my friend’s miracle? What do I do with a multifaceted Savior who interacts with us as both Lord and friend? I think I’m supposed to do what John the Baptist said to do-share with others and be satisfied with what I have.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Giving Up Facebook for Lent

     This is Ash Wednesday and I am embarking on my first ever Lent experience. For weeks I have pondered just what I could give up that would be meaningful.
     Walking through the process with the girls helped to cement the choices. Zoe wanted to know what it meant to give something up. She was all on board with giving some of her toys away to kids who didn't have enough. But, we talked a little more. We talked about finding something that was more important in our lives than God. She looked up, brown eyes wide and said "Nothing's more important to me than God!" I said "Yes, but sometimes things sneak in and take up the space and time we should save for God". She looked puzzled for a minute.
   I told her I plan to give up Facebook. Her eyes opened to the widest possible position and she took a step back. "You're giving up Facebook!" The full impact of that decision played across her face in the most amusing way. Then she said, "Well, I guess I can give up candy."
  If I had any doubt about my resolve to give up Facebook, it was banished in that conversation.  Zoe is 8 and has never experienced a life without frequent status updates. I hate to admit it but I spend a great deal of time watching for my friends' posts. (I have some very witty friends). I troll around keeping an eye on my youth group and watch out for the church families. I monitor my own kids and their friends. I keep up with my friends scattered out among the world. All very decent things to be doing but the time taken from my family and my God is perhaps more than it should be.
  So, I have decided that for the 40 days of Lent, I will only check Facebook once a day. Zoe and I will work together on a blog about our Lent journey. Just to keep me honest, since I've already tried to justify sneaking onto Twitter as a means to get my social media fix, I will also commit to only checking my Twitter and Pinterest once a day.
   The devotional this morning was titled "A New Direction".  I am looking forward to journeying in this new direction.

The Flames

I see her and I feel like it will be ok. She is beautiful. Her hair flies out in soft black bunches and little curling tendrils and I wish my hair would just once make a statement like that.  When you first just see her you don't really think much. She is a little bit quiet and you can tell there is a slight bit of apprehension about what she is about to do.
She begins to speak and you hear this authority come out of her heart. This authority that she speaks the truth she knows and she speaks it in love. I find myself captured by her ever increasing beauty. Then, she dances. The dance though is no ordinary performance completed in ordinary time. Her dance is a sermon. She speaks of a God who is above all other Gods. She speaks of the love this God has for all the people.She speaks of laying down the burdens we all carry. She speaks of God and of love and she says not one word.
Her hands move with the authority of one who knows for sure the movements of the dance. Her motions are poetry. My heart leaps in my chest and even though her song is not one that I sing my heart leaps because across all these boundaries we are sisters, beloved of the same God.
Behind me there is another woman. This woman is the past and her feet are standing in defiance. Her hair is cut tight to her head and her skin is soft in color and in texture. She stands in defiance. She stands to serve those who are not singing her song. She stands testiment to the ways we have walked before and hope never to walk again.
I stand with head bowed and heart leaping. This is my future and I am walking toward it. I am walking toward a place I have never dared to know. I am walking to a place I thought reserved for those wholly other than myself.
If we could take a picture, the three of us, you would not see anything to striking. You would not see anything too striking unless you could imagine. Imagining the flames burning above our heads. These flames that dance in strength and beauty. These flames that dance saying "I am part of this magnificient world! I am part of this creation! I am the beloved of my God!" And, if you caught the glimpse of this in us, perhaps you would see the flames burning in all of the others.