The Tin Man: Heart > Brains

Frederick Buechner has continued to capture my attention over the last five years. Dr. Sharon Sellers, who I hold dearly in my heart gave me a devotional with excerpts of his in 2015 when I was at the lowest I’d ever been. Since then, I’ve always had a book by Buecnher nearby and I suspect that will always be the case. He mentions the Wizard of Oz series in a number of places and so in an effort to see what he has seen and feel what he has felt, I too am immersing myself in the series. It is absolutely wonderful!

Here is an excerpt in which the Tin Woodman is found explaining to Dorothy and the Scarecrow his story of how he became the way he was and why he is desperate for a heart.

“‘Why didn’t you walk around the hole? asked the Tin Woodman.
’I don’t know enough,’ replied the Scarecrow cheerfully. ‘My head is stuffed with straw, you know, and that is why I am going to Oz to ask him for some brains.’
’Oh, I see,’ said the Tin Woodman; ‘but, after all, brains are not the best things in the world.’
’Have you any?’ inquired the Scarecrow.
’No, my head is quite empty,’ answered the Woodman.
”But once I had brains, and a heart also; so, having tried them both, I should much rather have a heart.’
’And why is that?’ asked the Scarecrow.
’I will tell you my story, and then you will know.’

So, while they were walking through the forest, the Tin Woodman told the following story:

’I was born the son of a woodman who chopped down trees in the forest and sold the wood for a living. When I grew up I too became a woodchopper, and after my father died I took care of my old mother as long as she lived. Then I made up my mind that instead of living alone I would marry, so that I might not become lonely.

’There was one of the Munchkin girls who was so beautiful that I soon grew to love her with all my heart. She, on her part, promised to marry me as soon as I could earn enough money to build a better house for her; so I set to work harder than ever. But the girl lived with an old woman who did not want her to marry anyone, for she was so lazy and she wished the girl to remain with her and do the cooking and the housework. So the old woman went to the Wicked Witch of the East, and promised her two sheep and a cow if she would prevent the marriage. Thereupon the Wicked Witch enchanted my axe, and when I was chopping away at my best one day, for I was anxious to get the new house and my wife as soon as possible, the axe slipped all at once and cut off my left leg.

’This at first seemed a great misfortune, for I knew a one-legged man could not do very well as a woodchopper. So I went to a tinsmith and had him make me a new leg out of tin. The leg worked very well, once I was used to it; but my action angered the Wicked Witch of the East, for she had promised the old woman I should not marry the pretty Munchin girl. When I began chopping again my axe slipped and cut off my right leg. Again I went to the tinner, and again he made me a leg out of tin. After this the enchanted axe cut of my arms, one after the other; but, nothing daunted, I had them replaced with tin ones. The Wicked Witch then made the axe slip and cut off my head, and at first I thought that was the end of me. But the tinsmith happened to come along, and he made me a new head out of tin.

’I thought I had beaten the Wicked Witch then, and I worked harder than ever; but I little knew how cruel my enemy could be. She thought of a new way to kill my love for the beautiful Munchkin maiden, and made my axe slip again, so that it cut right through my body, splitting me into two halves. Once more the tinsmith came to my help and made me a body of tin, fastening my tin arms and legs and head to it, by means of joints, so that I could move around as well as ever. But, alas! I now had no heart, so that I lost all my love for the Munchkin girl, and did not care whether married her or not. I suppose she is still living with the old woman, waiting for me to come after her.

’My body shone so brightly in the sun that I felt very proud of it and it did not matter now if my axe slipped, for it could not cut me. There was only one danger–that my joints would rust; but I kept an oilcan in my cottage and took care to oil myself whenever I needed it. However, there came a day when I forgot to do this, and, being caught in a rainstorm, before I thought of the danger my joints had rusted, and I was left to stand in the woods until you came to help me. It was a terrible thing to undergo, but during the year I stood there I had time to think that the greatest loss I had known was the loss of my heart. While I was in love I was the happiest man on earth; but no one can love who has not a heart, and so I am resolved to ask Oz to give me one. If he does, I will go back to the Munchkin maiden and marry her.’”

— L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz: The Complete Collection, Vol. 1, pp. 38-40

Companion: What Time Is It? (The Power of A Daydream)

Listen to What Time Is It? (The Power Of A Daydream) on Spotify. Redemption Church · Single · 2020 · 1 songs.

Companion: Jesus Loves Frankenstein

Listen to Jesus Loves Frankenstein (Halloween Edition) on Spotify. Redemption Church · Song · 2020.

Companion: Remember Me

Listen to Remember Me on Spotify. Redemption Church · Single · 2020 · 1 songs.

“I love my friend Jim Tomiser. 
He and his wife Stacey are dear to the Early family. They moved up to Whidbey Island two years ago. They live in a beautiful little neighborhood not too far from the ferry. In the summertime, the blackberries are everywhere, of course, and their flowers and tomato plants are in bloom (though this year wasn’t the best for most of us when it comes to tomatoes). It’s so nice to walk around the corner to Mrs. Elizabeth’s home, pick apples, and trot down to the most wonderful little lake. Jim and I helped her pick up some heavy pottery one afternoon and move it around on her deck. She thanked us as like we were true Catholic Saints. Anyway, Jim has a boat and a tube to go behind it. The lake we play on is special. The water is warm to swim in, the trees are as tall as ever, and the blue sky just goes on with a puffy white cloud here and there. It feels as though they live in another world, and you know, sometimes, they really do. 

Last Friday morning, Jim caught the 9:00 AM ferry to Seattle. We went to Cafe Fiorre there in Sunset Hill. Jim got his 12 ounce Americano and I got a London Fog. We hiked down to Golden Gardens. He’s lived here his whole life and had never actually been to Golden Gardens nor Mt. Rainer! Can you believe that? We had a laugh over the fact that sometimes you can live close to things everyone else in the world knows about but never actually go ourselves. “We’ll get around to it sometime.” When I lived in London, I’d ask my classmates about whether or not they’d been down to Bath or to Stone Henge or up to Cambridge or over to Oxford. So often my friends said “No! Of course not! We could do that anytime!” Hopefully time doesn’t run out, you know? 

Jim and I sat on a dock. I pointed out the dock next to us. “Me and Chad and I jumped off that dock one summer. In fact, Chad and I just jumped off another dock the other day on his birthday!” We had a good laugh at that, too. So there we sat, staring out at the slate blue water, slapped up against the grey sky. The orcas where out there splashing around between two sailboats. The train went by and we enjoyed the smells of the shipyard. 

We talked about all the kinds of things anyone talks about with their friend and pastor. The ups and downs and unknowns and of course, we talked about grief and joy, the unpredictable nature of life, and God’s surprising faithfulness through it all.

Afterwards, we hiked back up to Sunset Hill and sat on another bench. Old men huffing and puffing checking our smartwatches. Kind of proud of ourselves. Kind of sad that we get winded so easily. Jim noticed my striped socks. They were pink, brown, and yellow. He said “Boy, I like those socks!” with a laugh. “Oh let me tell you about the wonderful person that gave me these socks! The Great Mrs. Sharon Sellers gave me these!” I told him that she and her precious husband Walt, (who I call my Papa Walt), came into our lives nearly 12 years ago. They came to our church in Georgia that I was in the midst of planting. (I’ll tell you another day about, Papa Walt). Mrs. Sharon is absolutely brilliant! She is perhaps the most well-read person I’ve ever met in my life and I’ve never known anyone to enjoy literature more than her! She taught at the University level for many many years.

The thing I love most about her is how she asks questions!” Jim stopped me right there and said, “Wait. The thing you like most is how she asks questions? That’s really special.” “Oh yes! I so want you and Stacey to meet her! Yes, she can talk literature and story telling and philosophy and history, and theology and all the rest as well as anyone. But the the thing she does so well is ask questions. Such is the gift of a true teacher. Teachers not only instruct from the outside, they know how to ask good questions, and force the listener to reach inside and pull out some things. That’s what she does. She’s a teacher to the bone. 

I have learned so very much from her. And if there’s one thing I can boil it down to is this: It’s not so much the answers we give but the questions we ask that determine the quality of our relationships. She’s good at asking questions and therefore she’s deeply loved by so many. When it comes to Jesus himself, consider some of the questions he was asked….

”Why do you speak in parables?”
”Can a man enter his mothers womb and be born a second time?”
”Shall we strike down the Samaritans with the sword?”
”Who sinned? This man or his parents?”
”When shall these things be? What shall be the sign of thy coming?”

Of all the questions Jesus was asked, the unnamed thief, asked the the best one. Church tradition says the man’s name was “Dismas” which means “sunset.” How appropriate. I don’t know if that was his name and I don’t know that it matters all that much to anyone other than his mother, really.

“Jesus, when you come into your kingdom, remember me.”It was as much an instruction as it was a question; a beggar in the last hour, asking for pity.  Perhaps it is the question that sums up all the other longings and questions that people have brought to Jesus’ ears for the last 2,000 years. There he was all strung up there; dying in the merciless sun, the way rebels and riffraff ought to die; with nothing left but a heart purified by pain and watching how Jesus was dying, belted out the most pure question, the question beyond all questions; this last question…. ”Jesus when you come into your kingdom, would you remember me?”

This last request of Jesus, was more than a Hail Mary thrown by Russel Wilson down at Century Link. This final question is the one we all ask of Jesus, when the sun has gone down in our own lives. After fighting with a spouse or friend. After blowing it at work or doing something impulsive or giving into temptation. Especially on our deathbeds, that’s the thing we ask of Jesus once more, “remember me.”

And to put yourself there on Skull Hill, looking up at this utterly helpless situation, what on earth would you make of it if you actually heard the man’s request? Surely it would’ve sounded utterly absurd. Who of the three hanging there appears as though he’s actually bound for heavenly glory? I can think of plenty of others that when they die, we assume, they’re headed straight for pearly gates, crystal seas, golden streets, and the rest.

Mother Teresa, a faithful priest, a sacrificial mother, fathers who teach Sunday School, and courageous missionaries, philanthropists, and doctors laboring in developing countries. But that One up there in the middle, the One all bleary-eyed, and battleborn, torn from limb to limb, with a voice gone hoarse from all the writhing in agony - what on earth could he possibly offer anyone? What does he have? His hands are pierced. He could no longer hold someone in his arms. His feet were pierced. He could no longer walk across the room and say hello. His clothing belonged to the winning gambler at the base of the cross. There was absolutely nothing left the eye could see. It appeared to be completely over. 

However, there’s a catch! the thief knew something. Thieves know where to look for valuables. They know that you have to really seek out a hidden treasure. They know that the jewels are in a big black locked safe. They know that the cash is two stories under ground at the bank. They know where things of worth are stored. So, even from his cross, he had scoped out the situation, he had cased the joint, and in the right moment, he made his less-than-sinister move.

He asked for the only thing Jesus had left. He asked for his memory. He asked to be remembered. Will you remember me? Surely some scoffed at the pitiful request. But was it all that pitiful of an ask? If you’ve ever been truly remembered by someone else, then you know the power of the man pinned to the wood was asking for the moon. Think of those people throughout your life who cared enough to pick up the phone or come by, or send you a letter in the post. The people you moved away from or those who moved away from you that still remember you.

Yes, they would be right to laugh were Jesus not Jesus. It would be right to laugh if he didn’t possess the keys to the Kingdom of God. It would be right to laugh if he really were some nonsensical charismatic wisdom sage pseudo-rabbi from a backwater town. But as we know, he is God’s Son and in his darkest moment as the sun is blotted out in midday, is still somehow running the whole miserable show. Truly, right then and there at his darkest, our darkest, the world’s darkest moment all was still working according to plan. “I lay down my life and I will take it up again.” Or to Pilate he said, “You have no power over me. The only power you have is that which my Father gave you.” Oh, yes, it would’ve been right to laugh at Dismas and Jesus were Jesus truly just another man. So after giving all that he had, from time, attention, food, clothing, and even the blood in his veins and skin off his back, Jesus still had one thing left to give. He would give his thoughts away to a dying stranger.

I recall on one occasion years and years ago, our beloved Brennan Manning commented on Shel Shel Silverstien’s “Giving Tree”, being the best modern parable he had ever heard in reference to Jesus’ self-emptying love. Do you recall the story of the apple tree who lived right along side a little boy who grew to become an old man? Oh how she loved him! The little boy would come and climb up in her branches and swing, eat apples, and be happy. They’d lie in the shade. One day the boy said “Tree, I love thee.” And as the boy grew up, the tree gave all that she could. He became to old to climb, but wanted money. So she gave him her apples to sell in the city and make money. Later he needed a house, so she gave him her branches to build a house. After that he wanted to sail away from the world in a boat and so she gave him her trunk to build a boat. At the end of the boy’s life, as an old man, he came to her, the old stump, and she was sad that she had nothing left to give. And then it dawned on her, “An old stump is good for resting! Come boy, sit down and rest a while!” The boy sat down and the tree was happy.

Do you recall Jesus’ command of the disciples the night before he would end up on the cross? He broke bread, poured wine, and said “do this” and what? “Remember me.” The Christian faith isn’t merely a thinking faith in the sense of theology, reason, rationale, and apologetics, though all of those are very important keys. The Christian faith isn’t only, solely a mental, cognitive exercise of the brain. It is an exercise of the heart, the willingness and pleasure derived from remembering someone else. When it comes to the eucharist, holy communion, the table or whatever you call it - believers have debated as to whether or not Jesus is physically present or absent or somewhere in between since the beginning. But let us not overlook the simple fact that the meal is commanded to be taken not merely with the intention of straining out just how close Jesus is to the elements but just how close your mind is in remembering the one who makes the elements sacred. Jesus wants to be remembered as much as we want him to remember us in his kingly power coming at the right hand of the Almighty.









”

— Redemption Church | Homily | Remember Me | Seattle, October 25, 2020

Remember Me (?)

“However, there’s a catch! The thief knew something. Thieves know where to look for valuables. They understand that you have to really seek out a hidden treasure. They know that the jewels are in a big black locked safe. They know that the cash is two stories underground at the bank. They know where things of worth are stored. So, even from his cross, he had scoped out the situation, he had cased the joint, and in the right moment, he made his less-than-sinister move.

He asked for the only thing Jesus had left. He asked for his memory. He asked to be remembered. Will you remember me? Surely some scoffed at the pitiful request. But was it all that pitiful of an ask? If you’ve ever been truly remembered by someone else, then you know the power of the man pinned to the wood was asking for the moon. Think of those people throughout your life who cared enough to pick up the phone or come by or send you a letter in the post. The people you moved away from or those who moved away from you that still remember you. ”

— Redemption Church | Homily Excerpt | Remember Me (?)

Companion: Grace Hangs Around

Listen to Grace Hangs Around on Spotify. Redemption Church · Single · 2020 · 1 songs.

“
Grace Hangs Around
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
– Matthew 11:28


Some of us grew up fairly comfortable for the most part. What I mean by that is that life in general was left unchallenged because of where, when, and to whom we were born. We didn’t choose a time and place in history complete with running water, ample food on the table, a safe place to sleep, or a set of clean clothes. We never wondered if there would be presents under the tree or if we would have decent back to school shoes. Someone was there to pick us up from soccer practice, get us to the dentist, and help with pre-algebra homework. These and countless other luxuries were awaiting us even as we were in our mother’s wombs.

We had enough money, good health, decent family, and a sense of belonging; these are all wonderful gifts that are to be cherished, not despised. At the same time, these gifts come with a unique spiritual price tag. Those of us who enjoyed these basic necessities of life must understand that living fairly carefree can establish a profound distance between the Man of Sorrows who had no place to lay his head and us out in a safe suburb. Convenience and comfortability tend to cause a lag in our response to the command of Jesus to come and receive rest. We think to ourselves, “We’ll get around to Jesus some other day when he and his rest are actually ‘needed.’ Besides, grace will hang around because that’s just what it does.” And you know what? We’re right. Grace hangs around.

Indeed, that day eventually comes for all of us. Nobody can be for sure when, but when it does, you are as sober as a 16 year old getting her driver’s license. You see, given enough time, the winds of life keep beating on the ship day and night until we finally find ourselves saying, “My God. This life is so hard. I feel so lost, so confused, so defeated.”

A death. A divorce. A broken relationship. A grief as big as the ocean itself. It’s in the hospital room at 2:00 AM or on the living room couch with your face buried deep in your hands; accompanied by your friends sitting there as helpless as you are hopeless. In that moment, you say to yourself, “This has to be a dream. I just know that I’m going to wake up any minute.” But the minute never comes. You never wake up from the nightmare because you never fell asleep. That pain is now going to be part of the rest of your story. Surely it will not be the only part of your story this sadness, this grief, this loss are always going to be present in one sense or another. It is then and there that we discover just how fragile we really are. Yes, that moment reveals to us what our souls really are and what we, as people, really need.

And yet, the reckoning doesn’t have to be as dramatic as death, grief, betrayal, and loss. It can also sneak up in the daily humdrum of life. Sometimes it happens when you’re waiting on the bus. Other times it is while washing the dishes on a Thursday night. It happens on Saturday mornings before the phone starts ringing and the day gets going. The coffee is brewing and you give yourself a moment to just stare out the window for no particular reason. When you come to yourself, you wonder just how long you’ve been there all glassy-eyed and zombie-like. When you come to yourself you realize that the long stare was accompanied by a memory—something feels this out of place. Someone special is missing. Life didn’t take the shape you thought it would. Time is moving too fast.

As those moments come for each of us the gap is closed between people, the playing field is completely leveled, and we all – rich, poor, black, white, famous, ordinary priests and irreligious all find ourselves in tremendous need. Deep down, our souls are squirming in their chairs like fidgety kindergarteners. We grow more frustrated, irritable anxious, and exhausted by the hour. In our constant jumping from headline to headline, meeting to meeting, worry to worry goal to goal without slowing down and appreciating a sunrise or a good belly laugh with our friends - we develop a low-level rage or sadness that lingers just beneath the surface. Given enough time, we end up snapping at our spouse, our child, a coworker, a friend, or even a total stranger. Somehow we end up content to just to just keep running on caffeine, nicotine, and sugar until those things no longer do the trick.

Then, when the light hits just right, those sacred, humble, bone-crushing and soul-restoring words of Jesus come piercing through; shining, sparkling, twinkling like a Christmas tree –”Come to me.” Those words of the Holy Stranger in the dark are suddenly transfigured into the words of your Closest Friend; God’s beloved Son is talking straight to you… and for some reason unbeknownst to you, you can hear him.

As Jesus issues the command “Come to me”; You have to really be paying attention if you’re going hear him. He’s not going to shout over the television, zap your phone, or ask your friend to leave in order to have you look his way. After all, grace hangs around.

When Jesus says “Come to Me and I will give you rest”, you’ve got to make sure not to confuse the Jesus of Scripture with the carnival Jesus that gets paraded around in popular evangelicalism today. The Son of God is not an entertainer. He is not selling snake oil. He is not performing magic tricks to wow the crowd. Jesus offers your soul rest is not looking for employees to hire or fans to help stoke is low self-esteem. He’s neither needy nor a show off. See him for who he really is. Listen to what the Scriptures actually have to say about him. Let him speak for himself. Banish the false images that you collected along the way from a parent, a teacher, or someone else that distorted his smile. the king of Israel and Savior of the world is not a grump. I repeat: Jesus is not a grump.

Don’t waste time dillydallying around with theological precision, humming another song, or endless religious activity! The only thing Jesus insists on is coming straight to him.

What does it look like to come boldly before the throne of grace? I, for sure, don’t have it all figured out but what I have learned in my 40 years in the Church is that Jesus has a strong distaste for religious pretense. The flowery rhetoric, church clothes, and petty bashfulness doesn’t pull the wool over his eyes. He resists our desire to pretend to be better than we really are. He sees the skeletons in the closet, all the wrong turns we’ve made, and still issues the call to “come to him.” When we posture ourselves as either too good or too bad for his grace, we reveal that we’ve lost touch with who we really are and we don’t know Who we’re dealing with. The lamb of God did not and does not flinch.

If you’re going to come to Jesus, then you’ve got to be willing to bring your whole self.

Coming to Jesus is as hard as telling the whole truth about the worst thing you’ve ever done. Coming to Jesus is as difficult as admitting to someone else that what was done to you actually happened. Coming to Jesus requires the fearless resolve of a five year old to get out of the bed and shut the closet door on the monster that lurks in the dark between the hangers. Coming to Jesus is serious business because your soul is no laughing matter.

To come boldly before the throne of grace takes real faith, real courage, and real vulnerability. More than that, it takes resolve to cling to what Scripture says about how God feels about you and all that he’s done to make things right between you and Him. Once you’re there, in the Presence, he will not give you a job assignment, a lecture about how screwed up you are, or a snake. The prophet Isaiah says that the smoldering wick that is your life, he will not snuff out. The bruised reed that is your heart, he will not break. Jesus, He will give your soul the rest it has needed all along. If Good Friday teaches us anything; its this – grace hangs around.

Amen.
”

— Redemption Church | Homily | 10/14/2020

Companion: What's Up, Doc?

Listen to What's Up, Doc? on Spotify. Redemption Church · Song · 2020.

“Saturday morning cartoons. Growing up, I looked forward to Saturday morning cartoons the same way the Archbishop of Canterbury anticipates participating in the Easter liturgy. My grandmother’s house did not smell of incense nor did it resemble a cathedral. Instead, it smelled like cinnamon rolls, bacon grease, and Folgers Coffee. The kitchen had a linoleum floor that kept the score and my Granddad’s pipe smoke wafting in from the sunroom is forever in my mind. It was the coziest I’ve been in my life. My brother and I would lay on our bellies in our pajamas with our chins propped up on the palms of our hands like bowls of oranges and we would watch Merrie Melodie’s Looney Tunes.

I remember the episode in which the neighborhood black cat squeezed under a freshly painted white fence picking up a stripe down her back and the never-ending confusion it caused the lovesick Pepe le Pew. I remember Foghorn Leghorn sneaking up on the sleeping Barnyard Dawg, grabbing him by the tail, beating his backside with a piece of scrap wood, and running off only to have Barnyard’s chain synch down on him at the last second. I remember the Road Runner painting a mural on the side of a stone wall out in the desert deceiving Wile E. Coyote as he slams face-first into it. As Wile E. peeled himself from the wall, the Road Runner would blaze past and you’d hear his only words – “Meep! Meep!” And of course, there’s Bugs Bunny jamming a carrot into Elmer Fudd’s rifle causing it to blow up in his face, and as the dust, gunpowder, and soot settles, Bugs is leaning on a tree with a smug look on his face and asks the famous question “Ehhhhh... What’s up, Doc?”

What’s up, Doc? When we think of this year, 2020 and more specifically, our own lives, we all stop laughing because the joke is on us. We are the confused skunks, banged up coyotes, Farmdogs on short leashes, and hunters getting picked on by pesky rabbits. In the blink of an eye, everything changed. Kids are now online all day for school. The service industry, sports, concerts, and large gatherings all disappeared. We can’t even see each other‘s faces most of the time. There is ongoing injustice across our land, businesses remain boarded up, fear is everywhere, and America entertained herself to death with the likes of Joe Exotic. (I’ve been told that Tiger King was just as offensive as Jerry Falwell Jr.).

We laugh at the little cartoon characters because the animals that they were chasing remain barely of reach. In fact, the thing that they want more than anything is actually playing a joke on them. At various points throughout this year and certainly throughout our lives, we pause and ask questions like, “Why did this happen?” “Is God good?” “Is this some kind of joke?”

As I think through the stories in the Bible there are countless confused skunks and banged up coyotes. Abraham takes matters into his own hands and lives in regret. Noah is survived by the entire world but the depression still got to him. Moses in his frustration and anger is somewhere out in the desert beating a rock with a stick and doesn’t get to enter the Promised Land. David ignores his father’s wisdom and falls into the same vices resulting in the same broken heart his father had. Of all the exhausted men and women in the Bible, the one that kept coming to mind this week for me was the ruler of the Pharisees known as Nicodemus. You see, nobody is more exhausted than a 40-year-old religious man who thinks he should have all the answers to the questions of his own life as well as the very mysteries of God.

Nicodemus was an educated man who held incredible power in his religious community. His knowledge of the Scriptures surpassed everyone around him and he would’ve been considered a model citizen in every way. Yet, there was Somebody Else on the scene. Somebody Else was turning heads because he was turning water to wine. The Apostle John tells us Nicodemus “came to Jesus at night.“ We don’t know why he preferred to talk with Jesus in the dark any more than we recognize the face of the man in the moon. But that’s just what he did. Perhaps he didn’t want his religious friends catching him talking to the odd Rabbi from a backwater town? Or maybe Nicodemus wanted an uninterrupted conversation and so he had to wait his turn like everybody else. Or maybe he felt like he could only be his real self and ask real questions of Jesus when nobody else was looking. Have you, like Nicodemus, ever gone to Jesus in the middle of the night and asked your question?

Not to church...
Not a book study...
Not a conference...
Not a worship song...
Have you ever gone straight to Jesus in the middle of the night?

Though Nicodemus was steeped in the history of Israel he was still keenly aware of the fact that he could no more comprehend the mysteries of God then you are I could contain the Pacific ocean in a Dixie Cup. So in his curiosity, he pulled himself out of bed and went to Jesus.
John writes,

This man came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher come from God, for no one can do these signs that you do unless God is with him.” - John 3:2

I imagine if you or I had an audience with Jesus that night we would’ve said something along these lines, too. “It’s clear that the signs you are doing must be accompanied by God himself!” But Jesus who knows Nicodemus’s whole life story and your life story, abruptly responds piercing through to the question behind the question. Jesus knew that what Nicodemus was really asking was “Will I get to see the kingdom of Heaven, too?”
Jesus answered him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” - John 3:3

”Ye must be born again.” Those two words; born again. The either mean everything or they mean nothing to someone. We see them on a homemade sign in the end zone of a football game. Sometimes they’re slapped up on an overpass amidst all the graffiti. Sometimes they’re on the moniker of a Missionary Baptist Church out in the countryside somewhere. Born again. When Jesus said the words “born again” he wasn’t coming up with another way to say “evangelical.” He was putting a carrot in the hunting rifle.

Nicodemus doesn’t get it and asks how a person can be born twice. Do you ever have those moments when you’re talking and as you’re saying the words, you wish you could reach out and grab them and take them back? I imagine that must’ve been what Nicodemus was thinking in this moment. “I just asked how to be born two times!” There they are, the words are out there, naked, half-baked, standing there like a scarecrow. Jesus explains that there is the kind of birth that every mother does. And that there is another birth that is brought about purely by the work of God alone.
You see, in saying “you must be born again”, Jesus was taking all of the worry, the power, and the striving out of Nicodemus’ hands, saying “You don’t have what it takes to be born again in and of yourself.” Just as your mother labored to bring you into the world at zero cost to you and incredible cost to her, so it is with God. You are the passive recipient of Divine Grace. God is the One who brings about your birth from above. One moment you were not and the next you simply were. Why? Because God reached out, and reached within, and gave you a new heart, a new mind, a new life, a new purpose… a new you. What motivated God to do something so extravagant, so over the top, so undeserved for Nicodemus or you or me or anyone else in this world? Jesus said, “God so loved the world that gave his only begotten son that whosoever would believe in him would not perish but have eternal life.” It was out of the blazing furnace of the love of God’s heart that you have been born again and once you are born, you cannot be unborn. This is what the Apostle Paul stressed more than anything to his Ephesian brothers and sisters – the incomprehensible love of Christ. You belong to the Father, through the purchase of the Son, and the filling of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
”

— – Redemption Church | Homily | 8/30/2020

Companion: God's Cowboys

Listen to God's Cowboys on Spotify. Redemption Church · Single · 2020 · 1 songs.

“And they were offended in him. But Jesus said unto them, A prophet is not without honour, save in his own country, and in his own house.
– Matthew 13:57

Like smoke from West Coast wildfires, the Prophets are the unwelcome cowboys of God who make their way into the city overnight. These ragamuffins come into the world as a most peculiar bunch. They don’t think, talk, or act like anyone else in town. They don’t fit in anywhere because what society calls good and acceptable – the prophets condemn as evil and grotesque. Maintaining the status quo is the furthest thing from their minds. Systems must be corrected, people must be called out, repentance must be practiced, and God’s will must be done by those who claim to know him.

The grit that naturally accompanies Prophets seems almost other-worldly. They are resolved to call a spade a spade no matter the what the consequences may be because their conscience is bound to God and not to human beings.

They have dirt under their fingernails because they’ve got their hands in the earth like Yahweh. Prophets are paying attention and they must say something. They’re not easily amused. Self-righteous religiosity offends them as much as a golden calf at the base of Mount Sinai.

Prophets snarl at kitschy Thomas Kinkade paintings because they know that he’s not painting the whole picture; he’s not telling the truth and they are more than content with saying the offensive truth.

The Prophets are given hard, lonesome, wearisome, and depressing work. Again and again they are tasked with showing up and telling the nation that there’s a gloomy forecast coming for their a 3 day weekend.

Prophets are storytelling folk artists - bending copper, wire, rebar, and sheet metal into roosters who crow at 4:00 AM – “WAKE. UP! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WAKE UP!”

They’re disinterested in playing it safe and keeping everyone comfortable in their own skin. Words of “woe”, “destruction”, “wrath”, “repentance”, and “judgment” are frequently on their lips. When they’re not spouting a fiery word from above, they’re off in the distance weeping over the people.

A prophet laments when everyone else is well into their cup at a party. A prophet is uncomfortable in a crowd. A prophet stays awake when everyone else is has gone to sleep. Outwardly unkempt, disheveled, and wild but that’s because inwardly, their souls are continually being purified and polished by the Spirit of God himself. The world laughs at and dismisses prophets the way you and I think of carnival workers turning tricks.

They say things that don’t make sense to everyone else until it’s too late.

They’re the truth-telling sort of men and women that make good, honest, church-going people quite nervous. Like the sledgehammer in the shed out back, they’re not much to look at, are easily forgotten, and are heavy, dull tools of weight. Prophets disrupt everything. Their diets are meager, their clothing is entirely out of fashion, and their language is so holy that it sounds crass to the soft ears, indifferent hearts, and hardened consciences of the city.

They are disregarded as unsophisticated, untimely, podunks from backwater towns and therefore the scoffers in elite cities make sport of their so-called “calling from God.”

John the Baptizer, the very forerunner to Jesus himself, ate insects and spoke truth to power and lost his head for it at strip party. When Jesus spoke of the prophets, he emphasized not their religion but their rejection.

They were sad men and women for every reason under the sun. Why? To have a call from God Almighty - why does that come with such a depressing tax? Because that is the nature of telling the truth in a society that loves lying.

Prophets are sad precisely because there is always a counter-argument, another excuse to delay repentance and walking in holiness. Their rejection often comes with scoffing, name-calling, and questions surrounding their own mental and emotional health.

Prophets not only believe that God’s ways are higher than their own, they embody what appears to be sheer foolishness in commitment to God.

What kind of wild man stands at the intersections of culture that rage over defunding the police, Planned Parenthood, and the possibility of delaying an election and continues to shout those two words that make everyone blush – Jesus saves?

The prophets love Johnny Cash, not only because of his wit or creativity with country music… It’s because he wears black. Cash and the Tennessee Two had something to say no matter if it were on the radio or playing for free food at the local honky-tonk. The prophets had a fire in their bones, truth on their minds, and vision for God’s people to be who they already were. They drive the people of God to stop pandering to the world around them because they know that when compared to Jesus, the very best this world has to offer is a Jack in the Box drive-thru and one night stay at Motel 6.

In a world that loves vague sentimentalities, the prophets are despised because they are too loud, too clear, and too straight forward on loving your neighbor and pursuing justice in the name of God.

Politicians can’t buy the prophets. These cowboys of God didn’t choose their occupation for their ego to be stroked by paparazzi, fanboys, and invitations to the local reindeer games. Prophets are content with being resented like a barking dog in the middle of the night. Prophets are men and women who count the cost and are willing to say the truth come hell or high water, and they damn well know it’s coming.

Ezekiel was lying on his side by the campfire in a fever-trance. Hosea was found at the auction block of Gomer. Jeremiah’s sadness was seen in his bloodshot eyes.

Prophets don’t get invited to parties, but when they do, they’re the butt of every joke. Among the self-righteous religious crowd, the prophets aren’t taken seriously; they’re donkeys, and all the crowd hears is “HEE HAW” when they pray.

These lightning bolts from heaven serve as the grace of God in a world set on fire by hell. We would do ourselves, the world around us, and most certainly, God himself a great service to listen to the cowboys and donkeys. More often than not, they’re the ones through whom God is speaking. We don’t want to listen to them in our culture that minimizes pain, grief, and death at any cost. When someone dies, we get through the funeral as fast as possible. When someone’s marriage is on the rocks we like to tell ourselves, “They’ll work it out. It’ll be ok.” When someone’s teenager is out ‘sewing his wild oats’ we say, “Oh. It’s just season.” But prophets don’t do that. They call us to weep when we see sad things. They call us to rejoice the harvest comes in! The tell us to look around the dining table every once in a while a let out a belly laugh and thank you to God for all of his provisions! And so, yes, while the prophets carry a word of heaviness and repentance, they can also be the ones who are the most clear on the loving tenderness of our gracious God.

Listen to the words of three prophets to the nation of Israel when they were at their lowest and most rebellious.

Is Ephraim my dear son? Is he my darling child? For as often as I speak against him, I do remember him still. Therefore my heart yearns for him; I will surely have mercy on him, declares the LORD.
– Jeremiah 31:20

“Can a woman forget her nursing child,
that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb?
Even these may forget,
yet I will not forget you.
Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are continually before me.
Isaiah 49:15-16

When Israel was a child, I loved him,
and out of Egypt I called my son.
The more they were called,
the more they went away;
they kept sacrificing to the Baals
and burning offerings to idols.
Yet it was I who taught Ephraim to walk;
I took them up by their arms,
but they did not know that I healed them.
I led them with cords of kindness, a
with the bands of love,
and I became to them as one who eases the yoke on their jaws,
and I bent down to them and fed them.
Hosea 11:1-4”

Companion: Is There Grace for Me, Too?

Listen to Is There Grace for Me, Too? on Spotify. Redemption Church · Single · 2020 · 1 songs.

“...As people approach the perch, most everyone has the same look on their faces regardless of where they’re coming from or what they’re currently going through.

There are the hurried moms and dads who just crawled out of the van, struggling to get the kids to Sunday School on time. Both have a question in their eyes: “Is there grace for me too, pastor?” Or maybe it’s a friend that is having an ongoing faith crisis, who for some reason or another pulled herself out of bed, filled the tumbler with coffee, and came anyway. When she and I make eye contact, you can tell she’s suddenly surprised by herself - she’s darkening the doors of a church, and as she gets closer, I can tell she’s got the same question in her eyes, too... “Is there grace for me, pastor?”

Finally, my wife walks up the sidewalk. The kids blow past me, yelling, “Hey Daddy!” as they head for the donuts. Jana is a woman who has never been fond of the title “pastor’s wife.” I like that about her. This isn’t because she doesn’t love my vocation, occupation, or the church. She just doesn’t need another “role” to fill any more than anyone else here does. And when I see her, she can see that my eyes are always asking the same question that everyone else has already asked: “Is there grace for me too?” And she always says, something like “I’m so glad to be here today! Jesus loves you, Alex.”

And so this morning, I want to just take a few moments and walk through Psalm 23 with you. This undoubtedly is the most famous Psalm in Scripture, and aside from John 3:16 is the most well-known passage in the Bible. David, King of Israel, pens this Psalm in a very personal way. David skips the flowery rhetoric that passes for “worship” on Christian radio. He’s also not an angry, argumentative armchair theologian, straining out every theological gnat. David is not speaking to, for, or with the entire congregation of Israel. He speaks in very personal ways about who God is to him and how he relates to him personally. I love this because he knows this art piece isn’t going to be confined to a journal entry but is to be included in the hymnbook catalog for the whole nation to sing! David was aware that God not only sees a crowd, he sees faces. God doesn’t merely count numbers; he knows names. God is not generally aware of the nation as a whole but is present, immanent, and available to a person. Psalm 23 is for the person asking with their eyes, “Is there grace for me too, pastor?”

David uses two metaphors to describe God. The first is a shepherd, and the second is a host on a wait staff. In both scenarios, King David is the one in need of protection, provision, and guidance. He’s the receiver of grace upon grace.

He begins:
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
We use the word “Pastor” to describe the dirty, draining, diligent work of a shepherd. David opens with the confession that his deepest needs will not be met by the military, politics, the nation, and even his own self. God is his shepherd, and nothing can change that. Many of us are worried about the state of our city, our country, and our world. We are glued to our screens, guessing what tomorrow may bring. This morning you might be at your wit’s end, and you’re asking, “Is there grace for me too, pastor?” And David says to you, “the Lord is your shepherd. You are not alone.”

He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.

Notice that David says that his shepherd knows what’s best for him, taking him to pleasant and safe places. Maybe you had your heart broken this year? Perhaps your business suffered tremendously? For some, your marriage has been through the wringer. After 23 weeks, you’re asking “Is there grace for me too, pastor?” “I sure need a break.” “I need to lay down.” “Is there any water nearby?” David says, “Oh yes! I hope you like the colors green and blue.”

He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

If you know David’s story, then you know that his soul was often in need of a God-sized restoration. David understood that his throne would be established forever, but that’s not because of his flawless moral track record. It will be by grace alone. To have your soul turned around or inside out is quite the predicament because can’t really reach inside and untangle the mess within any more than a person can perform heart surgery on himself. Perhaps by this point in life, the king realized that even anointed men and women can go astray and that the deepest soul-work must be done by God himself. Maybe you’ve lost your way over the last 23 weeks apart, and your soul is somewhere out there with the prodigal son hungover in a pigsty, and you’re wondering this morning, “Is there grace for me too, pastor?” David says, “Oh yes! The tangled up yarn of your soul is no match for the fingers of God.”

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

David describes the fact that though he’s the king of Israel, chosen and anointed by God, he, too, must still walk through the valley o,f the shadow of death. All of life is learning to let go. We let go of our friends. We let go of family members. In the end, we let go of our own selves. The valley of the shadow of death can pop up in any place. It can look like a hospital waiting room. Sometimes it looks like or a late-night fight with your spouse. Sometimes it’s in your car when you remember what happened to you so long ago and nobody knows that it happened. We all find ourselves in this valley. Maybe over the last 23 weeks, you’ve found yourself there, and you’re asking, “Is there grace for me too, pastor?” David says, “Look to the shepherd’s hands and what do you see? In his right hand he has club for the bears, lions, and foxes. And in his left there’s a shepherd staff to pull you back close to his side.”

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.

Though radically different occupations, the shifting of the image from Shepherd to Banquet Host still communicates the heart, intentions, and actions of God. Like you and me, even kings have enemies, get hungry, and enjoy dessert on the house. What kind of God chooses such humility? Here we see Almighty God, the Divine Waiter, with his apron on, preparing a table for his cherished David. The thing about Yahweh is that if he’s in the mood to celebrate, he doesn’t have to wait until the enemies are all gone to finally pour the best wine and enjoy his friends. Far from it! “Today is the day of salvation!” “Right here in the middle of the chaos, we are going to enjoy being together!” How long has it been since you enjoyed a true uninterrupted Sabbath with God? Not only does God prepare a meal, but he anoints David with oil. David knows he’s king. So why the reminder? Because a title doesn’t give David the power, strength, wisdom, courage, or integrity to lead the nation – but anointing does. A relationship does. Maybe this morning you feel far from God and aren’t up to the task ahead of you. Perhaps you’re asking, “Is there grace for me too, pastor?”

David says, “You are chosen, anointed, and empowered. God is not running out of water or wine! And if he wants to turn one into the other, he will do just that! The cup is overflowing, and the kitchen is stocked! You have only one thing to do today – enjoy it!

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

As David finishes his meal, he puts down the utensils, wipes his mouth, and stares out the window. After a moment, deep, gut-level gratitude wells up within him. He says out loud to God, his fellow dinner guests, and most certainly to his own soul, “surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life...” Like those of you who are asking today, “Is there grace for me too, pastor?” David has not forgotten the pain of the past, the presence of the enemies, or tomorrow’s rainy forecast. It is with these things in mind that David says, “mercy and goodness are always right on my heels!” And as he draws his final breath, asking, “Is there grace for me too, pastor?” He assures himself that Goodness and Mercy will swallow him up entirely and that “he will in the house of the Lord forever.” Amen.
”

Phos Hilaron

“Hail, gladdening Light, of His pure glory poured Who is the immortal Father, heavenly, blest, Holiest of Holies, Jesus Christ our Lord!

Now we are come to the sun’s hour of rest; The lights of evening round us shine; We hymn the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit divine!

Worthiest art Thou at all times to be sung With undefiled tongue, Son of our God, Giver of life, alone: Therefore in all the world Thy glories, Lord, they own.”

Anima Christi

“Soul of Christ, sanctify me.
Body of Christ, save me.
Blood of Christ, inebriate me.
Water from the side of Christ, wash me.
Passion of Christ, strengthen me.
O Good Jesus, hear me.
Within your wounds hide me.
Permit me not to be separated from you.
From the wicked foe, defend me.
At the hour of my death, call me
and bid me come to you
That with your saints I may praise you
For ever and ever.
Amen.”

When the Light Hits Just Right

“Then, when the light hits just right, those sacred, humble, bone-crushing and soul-restoring words of Jesus come piercing through; shining, sparkling, twinkling like a Christmas tree – “Come to me.” Those words of the Holy Stranger in the dark are suddenly transfigured into the words of your Closest Friend; God’s beloved Son. ”

— Redemption Church | Homily Excerpt | Grace Hangs Around

Coming to Jesus

“Coming to Jesus is as hard as telling the whole truth about the worst thing you’ve ever done. Coming to Jesus is as difficult as admitting to someone else that what was done to you actually happened. Coming to Jesus requires the fearless resolve of a five-year-old to get out of the bed and shut the closet door on the monster that lurks in the dark between the hangers. Coming to Jesus is serious business because your soul is no laughing matter.”

— Redemption Church | Homily Excerpt | Grace Hangs Around

A Carrot in the Hunting Rifle

““Ye must be born again.” Those two words; born again. They either mean everything or they mean nothing to someone. We see them on a homemade sign in the end zone of a football game. Sometimes they’re slapped up on an overpass amidst all the graffiti. Sometimes they’re on the moniker of a Missionary Baptist Church out in the countryside somewhere. Born again. When Jesus said the words “born again” he wasn’t coming up with another way to say “evangelical.” He was putting a carrot in the hunting rifle.”

— Redemption Church | Homily Excerpt | What's Up, Doc?

Jesus is Not An Entertainer, CEO, or Grump

“When Jesus says “Come to Me and I will give you rest”, you’ve got to make sure not to confuse the Jesus of Scripture with the carnival Jesus that gets paraded around in popular evangelicalism today. The Son of God is not an entertainer. He is not selling snake oil. He is not performing magic tricks to wow the crowd. Jesus offers your soul rest is not looking for employees to hire or fans to help stoke is low self-esteem. He’s neither needy nor a show off. See him for who he really is. Listen to what the Scriptures actually have to say about him. Let him speak for himself. Banish the false images that you collected along the way from a parent, a teacher, or someone else that distorted his smile. the king of Israel and Savior of the world is not a grump. I repeat: Jesus is not a grump.”

— Redemption Church | Homily Excerpt | Grace Hangs Around

Annie Dillard: The Rake in the Grass

“The joke of the world is less like a banana peel than a rake, the old rake in the grass, the one you step on, foot to forehead. It all comes together. In a twinkling. You have to admire the gag for its symmetry, accomplishing all with one right angle, the same right angle which accomplishes all philosophy. One step on the rake and its mind under matter once again. You wake up with a piece of tree in your skull. You wake up with fruit on your hands. You wake up in a clearing and see yourself, ashamed. You see your own face and it’s seven years old and there’s no knowing why, or where you’ve been since. We’re tossed broadcast into time like so much grass, some ravening god’s sweet hay. You wake up and a plane falls out of the sky.”

— Annie Dillard, Holy the Firm, p.42

Death: God's Cup of Tea

“Trust him. And when you have done that, you are living the life of grace. No matter what happens to you in the course of that trusting - no matter how many waverings you may have, no matter how many suspicions that you have bought a poke with no pig in it, no matter how much heaviness and sadness your lapses, vices, indispositions, and bratty whining may cause you - you believe simply that Somebody Else, by his death and resurrection, has made it all right, and you just say thank you and shut up. The whole slop-closet full of mildewed performances (which is all you have to offer) is simply your death; it is Jesus who is your life. If he refused to condemn you because your works were rotten, he certainly isn’t going to flunk you because your faith isn’t so hot. You can fail utterly, therefore, and still live the life of grace. You can fold up spiritually, morally, or intellectually and still be safe. Because at the very worst, all you can be is dead - and for him who is the Resurrection and the Life, that just makes you his cup of tea.”

— Robert Farrar Capon, Between Noon and Three: A Parable of Romance, Law, and the Outrage of Grace, p 175.

MLK's lesson on How we Depend on the Whole World!

“It really boils down to this: that all life is interrelated. We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied into a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directionally, affects all indirectly. We are made to live together because of the interrelated structure of reality. Did you ever stop to think that you can’t leave for your job in the morning without being dependent on most of the world? You get up in the morning and go to the bathroom and reach over for the sponge, and that’s handed to you by a Pacific islander. You reach for a bar of soap, and that’s given to you at the hands of a Frenchman. And then you go into the kitchen to drink your coffee for the morning, and that’s poured into your cup by a South American. And maybe you want tea: that’s poured into your cup by a Chinese. Or maybe you’re desirous of having cocoa for breakfast, and that’s poured into your cup by a West African. And then you reach over for your toast, and that’s given to you at the hands of an English-speaking farmer, not to mention the baker. And before you finish eating breakfast in the morning, you’ve depended on more than half of the world. This is the way our universe is structured, this is its interrelated quality. We aren’t going to have peace on earth until we recognize this basic fact of the interrelated structure of all of reality.
”

— A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King Jr. P. 254.

Fellowship of the Unashamed

“I’m part of the fellowship of the unashamed. I have the Holy Spirit’s power. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made–I’m a disciple of his. I won’t look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, my future is secure. I’m finished and done with low living, sight walking, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tamed visions, worldly talking, cheap living, and dwarfed goals.

I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don’t have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by faith, lean in his presence, walk by patience, am uplifted by prayer, and I labor with power.

My face is set, my gait is fast, my goal is heaven, my road is narrow, my way rough, my companions are few, my Guide reliable, my mission clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, detoured, lured away, turned back, deluded, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of the enemy, pander at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.

I won’t give up, shut up, let up, until I have stayed up, stored up, prayed up, paid up, preached up for the cause of Christ. I am a disciple of Jesus. I must go till he comes, give till I drop, preach till all know, and work till he stops me. And, when he comes for his own, he will have no problem recognizing me… my banner will be clear!”
”

— This was found in the desk of a young pastor who was martyred in Zimbabwe about 100 years ago. The source is debated. I first read it about 5 years ago in Brennan Manning's Signature of Jesus, pp.31-32.

Come to Me

“Come to me, and I will give you rest.”

— Matthew 11:28

Some of us grow up unchallenged; enjoying certain privileges that result in delaying the command to come and receive rest until some other day. 

Money, health, and a sense of belonging to your people are all wonderful gifts that are not to be despised. At the same time, those luxuries can establish a profound distance between the Man of Sorrows and those who enjoy our comforts. However, given enough time, the winds of life beat on the ship long enough and hard enough. We all eventually find ourselves saying, "My God, I need more than a break. I need whatever it is that the Messiah has to offer." 

A death. A broken relationship. A grief as big as the ocean itself. It's in the hospital room at 2:00AM or on the living room couch with your face in your hands. It's in the therapist's office that you never dreamt you'd find yourself. The moment comes for us, and we suddenly find out just how tired our souls really are. 

And yet, the moment doesn't have to be as dramatic as death and grief. It is also one that sneaks up in the humdrum of life. Perhaps you've caught yourself staring out the window for no particular reason. When you come to yourself, you wonder just how long you've been gazing at the Douglas Fir. It is then that you realize that the staring was initiated by a memory—something this out of place. Someone special is missing. 

When those moments come for us, and they most certainly do, the gap is closed, the playing field is leveled, and we all rich and poor alike find ourselves in tremendous need. Deep down in our squirming souls, we're frustrated, anxious, and exhausted. Going from headline to headline, meeting to meeting, worry to worry leads to a low-level rage or sadness that’s just always with us. Then, when the light hits just right, those words of Jesus come through shining, sparkling, almost twinkling like a Christmas tree–"Come to me." Those words of the Holy Stranger are suddenly the words of your Closest Friend. 

The call is not:

go to a church service;

listen to another song;

read another book;

attend another conference; or

talk to another person.

The Son of God says to each of us, "Come to me." While we'd rather dillydally around with theology, songs, and endless religious activity, the only thing Jesus insists on is coming straight to him. No pretense. No pretending. No posturing. 

To come boldly before the throne of grace takes real faith, real courage, and real vulnerability. More than that, it takes resolve to cling to what Scripture says about how God feels about you and all that he's done to make things right between you and Him. Once you're there, in the Presence, he will not give you a job assignment, a lecture about how screwed up you are, or a snake. He will give your soul the rest it has needed all along. 

Amen.