MY SIMPLE LIFE

          If I make a confession to you, will you promise not to judge me or peg me forever as arrogant? Here is the confession: when I was still in law school and thinking about the future, my friend Scott and I sat on the bridge spanning the two wings of our law school, where we sat nearly every lunch break. Scott was a year ahead of me and was contemplating his imminent graduation. The conversation led to the usual tortuous questions for graduates. What are you going to do? What do you want to do? What will you settle to do? Not wanting to be the only one in the hot seat, he asked me the same questions. My response was a faltering and embarrassed: “I don’t know. Sometimes, I think I am destined...” and I hesitated. Then, not waiting for me to finish my sentence, he looked straight at me, in that “I feel the same way” way, and said “yes, greatness. I think the same thing.” I was shocked that someone else could feel this sense of destiny. Suddenly, I was not so embarrassed to think I might be destined for greatness. (But it is embarrassing to think how arrogant it sounds...ah well. I think you promised not to judge me.)

  

              I don’t know what I was thinking of, or what Scott was thinking of, when we both blurted out “greatness.” Maybe it was a political life. Maybe it was some sort of high profile job. Maybe it was doing something outrageously brave and risky. Maye it was sitting on the Supreme Court. I really don’t know because once it was revealed to me that we both felt that calling to undefined greatness, and the earth did not swallow us up whole, and a lightning bolt from heaven did not strike us down, there was a sense of relief as well as excitement…maybe I wasn’t so crazy.

            That was more than 30 years ago, and as I read Psalm 37:1-19 today, I realize my goals and my life are much simpler now.  Or maybe my definition of greatness has changed.

            As I read those first 19 verses of Psalm 37 this morning, I realized there were very simple instructions to me:            

• ·         Trust in the Lord
• ·         Do good
• ·         Dwell in the land
• ·         Enjoy safe pasture
• ·         Delight yourself in the Lord
• ·         Commit your way to the Lord
• ·         Be still before the Lord
• ·         Do not fret
• ·         Refrain from anger

        Not one of those instructions has to do with wealth, success in terms of achievement, notoriety, material accumulation or power. In fact, these instructions all point to a fairly simple, relationship oriented life. My relationship with the Lord: trust Him, be still before Him, delight in Him, do good, commit my way to Him. My relationship with people around me: do good, refrain from anger. My relationship with myself: do good, dwell in the land, enjoy safe pasture, do not fret. All of those things are things I can control. I can choose not to fret, to commit my way to the Lord, to be still, to trust in the Lord, to refrain from anger. And frankly, if I have done these things, have I not succeeded in life already? That sounds like a great life to me.

And, if I can live this deceptively simple, but not simplistic, life, here is what I can look to the Lord to do:

• ·         He will give me the desires of my heart
• ·         He will make my righteousness shine like the dawn
• ·         He will make the justice of my cause like the noonday sun;
• ·         I will inherit the land
• ·         I will enjoy great peace.

I can leave the results up to God. I can cease striving.

When I was sitting on the bridge, it was in a period of my life which was marked by striving: striving for grades, for class rank, for jobs, for position. It really was a paradigm of what came next: striving for the next job, the right house, the next promotion, for children and their schools, the right college for them, the right opportunities for them.  And to be blunt, all those things, are not wrong; they just became the objectives, the goals. Those things are not my destiny. 

My destiny is knowing God. My truest greatness is to know God, to be known by Him, and to make Him known. It sounds like a simple life but, honestly, if that life is simple, so be it. It looks like success to me.

Building A Place for God

            What if you were assigned the task of building a place for God? How would you go about that rather large job?  I would probably go about it as Moses did. 

            First, he gathered resources and workers. Exodus 35:4-29 describes an incredible ingathering of resources. The best was brought: gold, silver, goat hair, hides of sea cows, acacia wood, olive oil, onyx stones and gems. Like any good contractor, Moses kept good records and retained a tally of all the materials used. (Ex 38:21-30)

            Moses even did a little inventory of the bigger picture items: the tabernacle, the ark, the table, the lampstand, the curtain, the bronze basin, right down to the things inside the closet…sacred garments for those ministering to the Lord. Once that list was given, the people started to come with their offerings, “all…who were willing brought to the Lord freewill offerings for all the work the Lord through Moses had commanded them to do.” In fact, the people of Israel got so excited about being part of the building of the sanctuary, being part of something bigger than themselves, they continued to bring free will offerings until they actually had to be restrained from bringing more. It would be a pastor’s dream: imagine a pastor saying to his congregation, “stop already. No more offerings. We have more than enough to complete the work God has given us to do.” Yet, that is exactly what Moses had to do. (Ex 36:6,7)

            Of course, a building is more than a pile of resources and materials. Moses had to find the right skilled craftsmen, designers and embroiderers to actually do the work God had commanded. The Lord provided Bezalel who was filled “with the Spirit of God, with skill, ability and knowledge in all kinds of crafts.” Bezalel picked his crew, trained them  and they oversaw “every skilled person to whom the Lord had given ability and who was willing to do the work.”  (Ex 35:30-36:1)

            The actual building, crafting, embroidering, goldsmithing, and silversmithing is described in the next 3 chapters. It is a wonderful testimony of God’s people doing what they were created to do, fulfilling their purposes. So all the work on the tabernacle, the Tent of Meeting, was completed. The Israelites did everything just as the Lord commanded.

            And thus, like a good general contractor, who was given a blueprint, a master plan, “Moses inspected the work and saw that they had done it just as the Lord had commanded. So Moses blessed them. “ (Ex 39:42, 43) 

The phrase “as the Lord commanded him” is repeated countless times in Exodus, whether it is with regard to Moses traveling up Mount Sinai early in the morning to receive the new stone tablets, or relaying the commands of the Lord to Pharaoh, or building the sanctuary.

 In the last chapter of Exodus, the phrase is repeated eight times as Moses is instructed by the very voice of God to set up the tabernacle, put the altar in its place, dress Aaron in the sacred garments, place the Testimony in the Ark, the lampstands, basin and gold alter in their proper places. Moses did everything down to the last detail as the Lord commanded him. “And so Moses finished the work.” Then what? Did he walk backwards, put his thumb up to see if everything was plumb? Did he sit back and enjoy the view? Did he gather his people around so they all could admire the work? Was that the end of the story? Tabernacle finished; mission accomplished? Actually, no.

            “Then (what a glorious “then”) “the cloud covered the Tent of Meeting and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle.”  (Ex 40:34) The account tells us that Moses could not even enter the sanctuary he had built, as the Lord commanded, because the glory of the Lord filled the sanctuary.

            The planning, as the Lord commanded, the ingathering of resources, as the Lord commanded, the building by those who were willing and skilled, as the Lord commanded, and the setting up of the sanctuary, as the Lord commanded is not just simply for the purpose of finishing the work for the work’s sake. It is to build a place for the glory of the Lord to fill. When that happens, when the glory of God comes and fills the place we create as He commands, somehow, it doesn’t matter that there is no room for us. In fact, I think that is the point…as the Lord commands.

MY GLORIOUS HUMBLE CALLING, or WHAT I LEARNED FROM THE MAN IN LINEN

My first writer’s conference was a challenge. It wasn’t the speakers. It wasn’t the schedule. It was not the material presented. It wasn’t even the cost. It was getting over the mental struggle I faced every moment I thought about actually attending a writer’s conference. Beginning to hyperventilate, I thought “I am a fraud. I am not a writer. Who am I kidding? I should not be going to a writer’s conference. Writers conferences are for writers.”  The challenge was packing, getting into the car and standing at the registration desk of the Indiana Faith and Writing Conference. The conference definitely provided fodder for thinking, processing, using and hopefully, writing. However, like most professional conferences, IFWC also gave opportunity for consultation with published authors, editors and publishers.  Writing consultants, as in any profession, give good news and bad news. Every time I gingerly, apologetically, slid an essay across a table to be reviewed, I lied, “yes, I want honest feedback.”  What I received then was, of course, honest feedback.  This is good, this is not so good. This is effective. Hmmm…this is weak. Yet, for all the honest feedback (which I concede was wanted (sort of), needed and appreciated) I still walked away with many emotions: challenged, excited and wondering if I am called to write. Regardless of all the foregoing, at least I acquired a new arsenal of tools for my tool kit.

The very day after I returned from the conference, in midst of the challenge, wonder and excitement, I met the man with a writing kit at his side. “Perfect” I thought. He can help me wade through my mix of thoughts and fears. Believe it or not, a nameless, old man with a writing kit at his side helped me process all my takeaways from the conference.

This man lived in Jerusalem years ago, a lot of years ago, about 2600 years ago. He kept strange company as well: “six men…each with a deadly weapon in his hand.” (EZ 9:2) What caught my attention as I read this portion of Ezekiel was the description-“with them was a man clothed in linen who had a writing kit at his side.” Of course, it was the writing kit at his side which grabbed my interest. What did he write that would merit him a mention in the most popular, most read, loved and maligned book ever written? I knew I could learn from him. And, since I had just filled my own writing kit with new tools; I was ready to be taught. This is what I learned from the man in linen.

1. Writing is a calling. The man in linen hung out with six dudes armed with dangerous weapons. The man in linen’s dangerous weapon? A writing kit. The man was not called to be a guard by the altar or a bodyguard or fighter; he was not called to do the task of the six dudes. But he was called. “The Lord called to the man clothed in linen who had the writing kit at his side and said to him “Go.” (EZ 9:3)
2. Writing assignments can be very humble. The man was dressed in linen. He was equipped with state of the art writing implements. He was ready for the assignment, writing kit at his side. His assignment? “Go throughout the city of Jerusalem and put a mark on the foreheads of those who grieve and lament over all the detestable things that are done in it.” (EZ 9:4) Surely not, Lord. A mark? Wouldn’t a letter be better? A five paragraph essay perhaps? At least one or two pithy sentences? A mark? Okay, a mark.
3. Humble writing assignments can be deceptively profound and critical. The mark which the man in linen wrote throughout the city of Jerusalem protected those who bore his writing. “Slaughter old men, young men and maidens, women and children, but do not touch anyone who has the mark.” (EZ 9:6)
4. Obedience to the call is its own success. "Then the man in linen with the writing kit at his side brought back word, saying, “I have done as you commanded.” (EZ 9:11)

Do I write? Yes. Am I a writer? Maybe. The answer to that question is still waiting to be answered. For now, it is enough that I am clothed in linen, have a writing kit at my side, ready to hear, mark and obey.

OUTING THE CONFESSER

There is a reason confession usually takes place in out of the way, dark, closet like spaces. Who likes to really scream from the rooftops their foibles, flaws and sins? Thus, it was no surprise when a friend of mine recently came out in the privacy of my kitchen, and admitted in quiet, embarrassed, trusting tones, that she was a hoarder. Yes, a hoarder. I was surprised, but not shocked. I imagined my friend living like the people featured in extreme hoarder reality shows, dwelling underneath decades of old and useless phonebooks or clambering daily to get to her front door over thousands of empty jam and pickle jars. I pictured her zealously, in Scrooge like fashion, storing empty cans, jars, newspapers, flyers and flattened cereal boxes in her domestic landfill.

However, before you let your imagination wander to some weird headline like: Extreme Hoarder In Ohio Dwells Underneath Garbage or Ohio Hoarder’s Home Condemned, I should let you know that my friend, in her own words, is a hoarder of words. (She must have shared this with me in a moment of extreme self-denial, since she used words.) True. She is a self-confessed, self-identified hoarder of words. Not as in a collector of dictionaries, thesauruses and encyclopedias. She hoards her own words…which would not be so bad, I guess, except for the fact that the words she hoards are not a random collection and assembly of words which have no meaning. Her words are expressions of her life, on paper manifestations of her experiences, which while perhaps still random, have meaning.

Continuing in her low, quiet tones, my friend went on to admit that she was a hoarder out of fear-not fear that she would ever run out of words, (a scarcity mentality was not her issue). Her fear was that if her words ever came out, actually spoken, those words could be thrown out by someone who did not recognize the words’ value and worth. And, of course, because the words were and are articulations of her experiences, her life, rejection of the words would be received and experienced as rejection of her life. Her words, if actually put onto paper, became real, “flesh” as it were. Her words, reflections of her life and experiences of pain, joy, sorrow and delight, love and hate, kindness and meanness, gain and loss, would all become flesh. And once the word becomes flesh, it is subject to the judgment, misunderstanding, rejection and ultimately, denial of those who read the word. Those who interact with that word have the choice to pick apart, criticize, judge and demean the word that becomes flesh. The great thing about hoarding words is no one has the opportunity to reject your words.

I understood her fear. Because, on a grander scale with eternal significance, that demeaning and rejection, misunderstanding and denial of the word that became flesh actually happened over two thousand years ago when Jesus Christ, the Word of God, became flesh and dwelt among us and we beheld his glory. Yet we rejected him, misunderstood him, twisted his words, tried to trap him with his words, and nailed him to a cross, which ironically enough had the words King of the Jews, posted above His torn and bleeding head, because we could not tolerate the truth and poignancy of God’s word to us. 

My friend went on, looking for understanding and pardon to continue in her hoarding. Of course, I nodded sympathetically and compassionately, comprehending completely the fear of her words being devalued in such painful and wounding ways. It was no mystery why fear of rejection and misunderstanding would lead to hoarding of words. Who, in their right mind, would want to subject themselves to such possible rejection and ridicule?

As she poured out her verbal heart to me, trusting me to value her words, I was constrained to out her hoarding.  Though I could understand her thinking and her fear, I could not condone it. I could not. I could relate to her fear, but I was compelled to remind her as we shared a simple meal together, remembering as often as we did, that the eternal Word chose and dared to become flesh. That Word made flesh came into a world pouring out a life of love, mercy, compassion, forgiveness, and life itself, willing to be misunderstood, willing to be rejected, willing to be denied, willing to die, all for love’s sake. And because my friend is called to Christ, and to living as He did and does, I reminded her, with flawed and hesitant words, that her words too, must become flesh and be sent out to live among people who can, in her words, behold truth and grace, and find life.

Minding the Gap

                Bear with me as I try to process a thought. It had been a long weekend of too many activities, trying to attend to some of my aging parents’ needs with some resistance from the intended benefactors, trying to influence my older children to make wise choices, trying to be patient as my younger teens were finding it quite fun to be rude and snarky, at times. Notice I said trying?  Throughout all this, I was painfully aware that I was not being kind, or patient, or understanding, or really much of anything that was Christlike and gentle. I had things to do, places to go. Couldn’t people see that I was offering the benefit of my wisdom and intellect and they had better take advantage of it…and be grateful? 

                That Monday morning, I read Ezekiel 22:30. “I looked for a man among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found none.”  That verse spoke to me, but I didn’t really understand why. It was jostling around in my mind thirty minutes later when I was on the treadmill at the gym. I turned on my ipod and listened as Ravi Zacharias started a four part series called “Mind the Gap.” (It is a short series on the gap between God’s character and our finite ability to understand that character.)

What struck me as I listened was this, twice in an hour long period, I had heard the same phrase: the gap, someone to stand in the gap and mind the gap. Typically, when I hear the same thing, I try to really listen. Psalm 62:11 says: One thing God has spoken, two things I have heard…” I wanted to hear what God was saying. In my experience, when God says something twice, He wants my attention.

Ravi quickly faded to the background and all I kept thinking of was how important it was to mind the gap. In Britain, “mind the gap” is the sign posted in the underground as a warning to people to “be careful, there’s a space big enough for one to fall through.”  I realized I was not minding the gap in my relationships. With my aging parents I was not being careful of the gaps they were facing as they grew older, frailer, needing more  help. With my teens I was not minding the gap as they faced big decisions, as they navigated relationships, as they tried to figure out right, wrong, good, bad, moral, immoral. With people around me I was not minding the gap they faced as they tried to understand who God is and why does it matter who He is, and if it matters, what should they do. 

There are gaps people face every day. Some of those gaps are cavernous. Some of the gaps are not that wide. For some people, God is on the other side of the gap. God says in Ezekiel that there is a gap between Him and those who dwell on the earth. He says that the land is cursed but if He will find one to stand in the gap, He will not destroy the land. 

I know that Jesus is ultimately the one who bridged that gap between us and God the Father. I am not the one who stands in the gap and removes the curse; that is Jesus alone. But, sometimes I think maybe God wants us to be a temporary bridge over which people can cross and get closer to the Lord, until they realize, it was Jesus all along.  I don’t know how it works exactly. 

Richard Wurmbrand tells the story of a fellow prisoner in the Nazi camps who was mean, rude and insulting to all the other prisoners.* No one liked him. One day this very ugly spirited man got very ill and in fact, was so ill, he could not even get into line to get his stale bread and watery soup. But Wurmbrand decided that he would share his bread and soup with the man. Every day he would lovingly and humbly give to the sickly and sick spirited man the very sustenance he himself needed so desperately.  The sick man received the bread and soup begrudgingly at first but realized without Wurmbrand’S help, he would die. One day, the sick prisoner had enough strength to ask Wurmbrand why he so self sacrificially gave to him when he was so unkind and ungracious. Wurmbrand said “because I love Jesus.“ The ill man asked, ”Who is he and what does he look like?” Wurmbrand: He is the Son of God and He looks like me. Ill man: If He looks like you, then I love Him because I love you. 

Wurmbrand minded the gap. He minded the gap between the ill spirited prisoner and God. In doing so, he allowed him to walk over him to find relationship with God through Jesus.  I want to be like that: one who will stand in the gap as others try to figure out who God is and how to reach Him. May God help me to mind the gap and be Jesus with skin on for people.  As Jesus instructed: In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. (MT 5:16)  My beloved, mind the gap.

                 

*[I am very sorry that I cannot tell you the exact source. Richard Wurmbrand, a Lutheran pastor who spent years in the Nazi camps,  wrote Tortured for Christ and founded Voice of the Martyrs.]