Stained Glass

“We are all called to be God's holy people." ~ 1 Corinthians 1:2  

Nathan, a recently widowed Dad, often found peacefulness in the old stone church; a cool open place to sit and contemplate.  And so, it was on this day that his young son Brandon sat quietly next to him during the All Saints worship service.

The Pastor preached a sermon about the saints - people like Peter, James, and Mary who knew Jesus personally.  He spoke about the early church leaders - saints like Tertullian, Irenaeus, and Augustine who helped lay the church’s foundation.

He talked about people who lived much later - like John Wesley, Martin Luther, and John Calvin who challenged us to find a deeper relationship with God.  And he mentioned modern day saints such as Gandhi, Mother Teresa, and Martin Luther King who struggled for the rights of all people.

While his father listened closely to the sermon, Brandon appeared captivated by the sanctuary’s stained-glass windows.  Brilliant ribbons of color animated by changing cloud patterns wandered across the floor, creating a mystical atmosphere and inviting his thoughts to wander.

It was as if a rainbow had shattered, covering the congregation with radiant shapes of reds, greens, golds, blues, and violets.  Images and scenes leaded together into windows illuminated the building and its people . . . literally and spiritually.

On their drive home after the service, Nathan asked his son what he thought of the church service.

“I liked it,” Brandon said.

“Did you understand the Pastor’s sermon?” Nathan inquired.

“A little,” the boy admitted.  Brandon confirmed that the sermon had something to do with people called ‘saints.’

Testing how attentive his son was, Nathan then asked, “And who are the saints?”

Brandon replied, “They’re the people who the light shines through.”

Outta the mouth of babes!

God sent us here to make a difference, to make our world that much better, to be a saint.  That doesn’t mean that you have to be canonized or immortalized in a statue to be a saint.  Sainthood is more ordinary and dirty than that.

It’s more profane than it is sacred.  It’s going into this dark world and making it just a little bit brighter.  This can be accomplished by word, by deed, by simply following God’s call and letting the radical, liberating message of Christ’s Gospel guide you and flow through you.

Embrace the task, my friends!  Go into the world and let God’s light shine through you - and may it rain the Gospel’s beautiful rainbow of truth across every road you take and upon everyone you encounter on this sacred journey.  As a popular songwriter once said, “Each small candle lights a corner of the dark.”  Be that candle, my friends, so that others may see.  Amen.

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace: where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.” ~ St. Francis

Straight Ahead

"Trust the Lord; He made everything for its own purpose." ~ Proverbs 16:4

Jacob hadn’t missed voting in a presidential election since 1976.  He voted in Reagan’s unseating of incumbent Jimmy Carter who, it turned out later, had "found" Carter’s debate prep notes and obliterated Carter on live TV.  He’d voted in the controversial 2000 Bush/Gore election that was ultimately decided by the Supreme Court.  And he even voted in the 2008 campaign that some pundits believe was the most vicious in U.S. history.

Mudslinging is certainly not a new approach in politics.  Opposing candidates have been tearing each other down since Washington’s selection in 1789.  But to call what he’d seen from both sides a “circus” was an insult to the Ringling Brothers.

As the 2016 election nears, Jacob found himself at a crossroad for choosing the “lesser of two evils.”

The left offers Hillary Clinton - the Teflon candidate.  She’s weathered more scandals and been let off the hook for more misdeeds than probably any candidate in our nation’s history.

Donald Trump is to the right at this crossroad - an unrepentant bully who demeans women, immigrants and veterans.

We’ve already failed this cycle; either candidate will punish this nation.  So, Jacob considered “sitting this one out” incorrectly citing Spurgeon’s logic: “Of two sins . . . choose neither.”

That was until his Pastor may several excellent points in last Sunday’s sermon.

First: We’re always faced with the real challenge of voting among two or three ‘imperfect’ people.  Given the depths to which American culture has sunk, it’s too much to ask for a perfect presidential candidate.  And Jesus is not on the ballot.

Second: All throughout the Old Testament, God allowed for wicked leaders to be placed in authority over it’s people.  Quite often, it was to humble them and bring them back to Him.

Third: At a crossroads, you don’t have to take the left or the right.  Sometimes, you just go straight ahead.  There comes a time to stay the course and not be distracted or led astray by doubt, fear, or party loyalty.

Fourth:  Stay true to your faith, looking neither to the left or the right.  Our answers are not there.  Vote your values, whether those are popular or even successful in this election.

And Finally: Whatever happens, trust God.  He doesn’t measure us by who wins or loses, but by our faithfulness to vote our values without compromise.  To vote is to honor Him and let Him do the impossible.

So, Jacob has resigned himself to the notion that we will end up with one of the two evils the public has clamored for.  But, he’ll be faithful to what God has called him to do and leave the results in His hands, through the good days ahead and the bad alike.

Heavenly Father, thank you for the privilege of electing our leaders. Give us wisdom and discernment, that through the casting of our votes, Your Kingdom may come closer and Your Will be done here on earth.  Amen

The Mayan Forest

Lord, “Use my hands; use my feet, to make Your Kingdom come." ~ Brandon Heath

We’d passed that cornfield many times.  But in the Guatemalan highlands, where corn can reach 6 to 7 meters high, we were completely unaware that an entire community lived within its boundaries.

A footpath wound unpredictably through this Mayan ‘forest.’  Each muddy footprint unlocked cues to the difficulties faced by these families.

I faced the sun, feeling its gentle warmth, noticing how the sky was darker blue here.  Only the laughter of children hidden within the stalks reminded me that we’re called to this place by a God who asks us to follow Him into the homes of the broken.

Here we met Rosario Lopez (Rosy), who rose long before our arrival to prepare breakfast for a bustling household of six young children.  Juan Luis, age 11 and the oldest, left school after the fourth grade to pick coffee beans and help support the family.

Rosy spends her day tending to her home and weaving beautifully intricate textiles, a tradition passed down by Mayan women for centuries.  Her husband, a victim of the alcoholism so prevalent in Guatemala, no longer lives in the home or supports the family.

Sunny days will soon give way to cold nights where children struggle to stay warm.  This hidden village is wired for electricity, although the utility’s cost is far out of reach for Rosy and most of her neighbors.  Her father helped build thier small hut (8’ square) from scraps of bamboo and corrugated metal.

She cooks on a three-stone fire built on their dirt floor.  As a result, her current home is constantly filled with toxic wood smoke that causes serious health problems, particularly for the children.  No running water; chickens in the kitchen; dirt floor for a mattress.

Nearby, we’ll build a new home.  It will have a small porch to dry clothing during the rainy season, a steel door for security, cement floor, properly vented stove, and a few pieces of cheap furniture; rather well equipped by village standards.  So many more need our help.

As I stood on what will soon be Rosy’s front porch, I recall the story a boy tossing beached starfish back into the ocean.  When confronted by a man who questioned the sanity of his mission (there were miles of beach and thousands of more stranded starfish), the boy tossed yet another starfish back into the surf.

Smiling he said to the old man: “It made a difference to that one.”

Rosy was our starfish.

God’s plan calls us to bring help, healing and hope to people one person at a time.  May your light always shine to others in any kind of need, not just money.  Other needs may include our time, a smile, a kind word, assistance, or forgiveness.

Lord Jesus, “to those I have helped, I wish I’d done more. For those I neglected, I ask for understanding, to those who helped me – I thank you with all my heart.” ~ Yom Kippur Prayer

Tears Are Prayers Too

“God knows of your troubles; He keeps a record of your tears." ~ Psalm 56:8

Seven short weeks ago, Willie’s life changed forever.  The woman he married years ago, the one with big eyes and a bigger heart had gone home to their heavenly Father; the victim of a distracted teenaged driver.  He was now both Mommy and Daddy to his two small children.

After their baths, he’d given each the prescribed five minute back rubs.  Then Willie took up his guitar and began the nighttime ritual of folk songs, ending with "Jesus Loves You," - their favorite.  He sang it over and over, gradually lowering both volume and tempo until they fell asleep.

This is how it’d always been … with the exception that their Mommy was now gone.  Willie rose cautiously, trying to avoid making the slightest noise which might wind them up again, begging for more songs and stories.

He tiptoed downstairs and slumped into his favorite armchair.  For the first time tonight, Willie had some time to himself.  He’d cooked and done the dishes while responding to their endless demands for attention.  He helped his oldest with her second grade homework and ‘oohed’ shamelessly over his son’s elaborate Lego blocks creation.

Then it all crashed around him: the fatigue, the responsibility, the worry about bills, the endless details of running a house.  Only a short time before, he’d had a partner who shared these chores, these expenses, these bills, these fears.

The loneliness was overwhelming.

Unexpected tears trickled off his cheeks as he tried masking his grief.  There was a rawness to it; pain from a still-open wound.  Then his whole body shook; validating his devastating loss.

As he sobbed silently in the darkened room, a little face peered up at him.  He looked down into his four-year-old son's sympathetic face.

"It's okay to cry, Daddy.  My Sunday School teacher says that tears are prayers too.  They travel to God when we can’t speak.”

He climbed into Willie’s lap and they hugged for a long while before Daddy tucked his son back into bed.  Then he thanked God for the wisdom of innocence that had given him permission to cry, releasing him from his grief and reaffirming his ability to love and be loved.

In ancient times, tears shed for the death of a friend were captured in small vials, or ‘tear bottles’ and offered on the tomb of the deceased.  What a sweet thought is suggested (Psalm 56:8 above) by God's recognition of our afflictions!  He’s present with every tear shed; we can count on Him to collect them all.  No matter what sorrows we face today, we have confidence that God cares.

Lord Jesus, thank You for loving my babies even more than I do and for having compassion on them and me.  Help me feel Your comfort and reassurance when I face new seasons of life and emotional challenges as both a father and mother.  Please guide them in their decisions and keep them safe.  Love Willie