Today's Word

Today’s Word: Shaped

Steve · March 15, 2014 · 3 Comments

A few weeks ago, I visited Taroko Gorge National Park in Taiwan, a beautiful forest green and marble white region in the northeast part of the Island. The views were breathtaking, and on one of our stops I found myself staring down into the gorge near the area where the Laoxi River flows from the marble valley into the Liwu River. There, the unrelenting flow of the river cuts and shapes the marble and limestone ever so slowly, as it has for millions of years. It is this constant, slow force and flow that made and continues to make the gorge what it is, slightly different with each passing day and yet seemingly unchanged to even watchful eyes.

So, too, are we shaped and formed by the flow and presence of God through our lives. Like watching an infant grow, it is nearly impossible to see the distinct changes that are happening on a daily basis, but nevertheless we are being carved out of the stone of human existence, shaped by sacred waters into something beloved by the creator. This shaping happens whether we recognize it or not, pay attention or not, believe in the carver or not. We are shaped through no effort of our own for, despite what pop psychology might want to teach us, we cannot change our true, inner selves. We can play with our exterior, surface selves that the world judges to be “us,” but only the gentle, unrelenting will and grace of God can shape and change our true, inner selves. For we are not God, no matter how we have been changed by the divine power that flows through us. God re-creates us with each passing day, ever so slightly made less so that we might be more for others.

Ask yourself in silence: How has God’s presence and power changed my life over time?

Today’s Word: Calm

Steve · March 1, 2014 · 6 Comments

Calm on Rice Lake, Wisconsin. SJG Photo.

And then there was that time when we were fishing and a storm kicked up and we thought we were all going to be thrown into the sea. Jesus, as we had come to expect, was sleeping in the front of the boat. He never cared much for the actual work of fishing, although it seemed he always knew where to throw the nets to catch the most fish, so he was useful to have around. Anyway, there he was sleeping right in the middle of this raging storm and we didn’t know what to do.

I’m not sure he was entirely happy to be woken up by our screams for help, but he stood up and looked around, as if the whole thing was just a gnat on his arm. He looked at us and smiled a smile that seemed to say, “When will you believe in me? When will you have a little faith?” Then he just held up a hand and, as if speaking to one of us, whispered, “Stop. Just stop.” And then a calm came over the sea and over us. It was a calm I had never felt before and I thought, “what kind of man is this, that even winds and the sea obey him?” (Matthew 8:23-27)

Storms come and go in our lives. They happen to us and to those around us. These storms test us and shake us and sometimes break our hearts and weather our faith. People die and leave huge holes in our lives where they used to be. Our faith in God does not take away the storms, for they rain down on us all, believers and unbelievers alike.

The difference is the presence in the boat. For we who believe, Christ is there in the bow of the boat of our lives, wrapped in a blanket and waiting for us to wake him and ask for help. And he will arise at just the moment we need him most, stretching out his hands and whispering, “stop,” and calming the sea at least enough so that we can make it back to shore, a way through the storm to safe harbor. And that’s enough, has to be enough, because it is all we need.

Ask yourself in silence: When was my last storm? Am I in the midst of one right now? And where is Jesus?

Today’s Word: Offering

Steve · February 17, 2014 · 13 Comments

fish3 — Dried fish in Hong Kong market. SJG photo.

(Based on John 6:1-15)

I was sent to the market by my mother with very clear instructions: Buy five small barley loaves and two dried and salted fish. Nothing more. And come right back home. I was only 12 at the time, so I never could have imagined how much my life would change that day…

I was walking home from the market along the shore of the Galilee when I saw a crowd gathering, pointing toward a small boat just then coming ashore. As it beached, a couple of the men in the boat jumped out and hauled it the rest of the way in, away from the tide. They were fisherman, and I could smell the fish in their nets and on their clothes. People just kept coming and coming, running along the shore and from the market square, and I kept hearing one name over and over — Jesus. Jesus is here. The rabbi, the healer, the prophet. I had no idea who this man was, had never heard his name before. But here he was standing in front of me, the one that everyone else deferred to, pointed at, sought to get closer to. And I was right there, a pretty exciting thing for a kid from a small fishing village.

Today’s Word: Climb

Steve · February 16, 2014 · 1 Comment

Since I was a child, I Ioved the story in Luke’s gospel (Luke 19: 1-10) of Zacchaeus the tax collector who, because he was so short, ran ahead of the crowd following Jesus and did a surprising, almost childlike thing — he climbed a Sycamore tree so he could get a better view and try to get Jesus’ attention. The child in me could relate, especially because I was a “wee little one” and always one of the smallest in my class until I was about 15 and had a growth spurt. Some of you will, indeed, remember this childhood Sunday School song:

Zacchaeus was a wee little man, a wee little man was he.
He climbed up in a Sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see.
And as the Savior passed that way, he looked up in the tree,
And he said, “Zacchaeus, you come down.”
For I’m going to your house today…for I’m going to your house today.

Zacchaeus is rewarded for his effort. Jesus sees him, calls him by name, and then invites himself to Zacchaeus’ house for dinner. This leaves the crowd stunned, for Jesus does something we will see him do over and over in the scriptures: He dines with sinners. He prefers the company of those who need him and his healing and transforming ways to the pious and self-righteous who just want to be seen in his company.

Today, I pray that my inmost desire is still the view from that tree, sitting in that gnarly crook awaiting the one who knows me by name, knows all of my shortcomings and failures and loves and accepts me as I am. It is my passionate desire to hear that voice say, “Come, let’s spend some time together,” because I know that time of presence can take away all my other false and misplaced desires. To hear my name called by the one who created me is to know I am loved; it is to know my purpose, my foundation.

Ask yourself in silence: What do I need to overcome and rise above in order to see Jesus more clearly? What’s blocking my view of God?

Today’s Word: Seeing

Steve · February 9, 2014 · 2 Comments

And then there was light. That’s all I know. There was light. SJG Photo.

Tell us that story again, Uncle Bartimaeus. Tell us how you were blind and then how you could see. Tell us so that we might believe…

I couldn’t see a thing, had never been able to see the sun or my father’s face. So I sat outside Jericho every day, next to the gate and across from the big tree where everyone gathered, and I awaited alms, prayed for prophets to pass, hoped for healing. I had nothing better to do. Because I am blind, some assumed I was an idiot, too, but I was not, am not. I’d heard of this Jesus, heard stories of him related by passersby who ignored me, listened as they talked of his miracles, of his gentle and healing hand.

So on that day I began to hear the buzz around noon that he was coming to town and might be heading my way. I staked out my place across from the tree. No one told me, of course, because no one paid attention to me at all back then except maybe to throw a mite my way once in a while. But I knew he was coming, knew before everyone else because I heard the crowd before it even turned the corner by the market stalls. I heard and knew — and began to believe — that he might actually pass my way.

When I could tell he was within earshot, I cried out, “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.” And then a second time, when some were trying to hush me up, “Jesus, son of David, have pity on me.” Then there was just silence, my favorite sound, for in silence I find the real and the holy. For me, sacred always follows silence. I steeled myself, and I could sense all heads turning in my direction, all their cloaks swooshing toward me. I heard sandals shuffling, the dust flying in my face. I held my breath, as I always did, for I was used to life at ground level. Then someone said, “Take courage, he is calling you.”

And I remember thinking: calling me? No one calls me. No one knows my name. And what do you know about courage, anyway? Still, I threw aside my cloak and jumped to my feet, wishing I could see their faces, see how surprised they were to see me moving so quickly and deliberately. As if I was a person who mattered and should be paid attention to. Someone reached out and touched my arm, gently, and led me 15, 16, 17 steps…and we stopped. Silence again.

“What do you want me to do for you?” he asked. And that voice…that voice. What was it about that voice? Such authority and kindness. Eternal, somehow, as if it had always been here. I almost laughed but didn’t. What did he think I wanted?

“I want to see.”

And then there was light. That’s all I know. There was light.

(Mark 10:46-52)

Ask yourself in silence: What do I want from God? What do I need to see?