Viral Learnings, Part Three: It's Not a Maze

Living life with a deadly virus on the loose is more than a bit unnerving; it is downright upending. You watch the news at night and the experts say one thing. The next morning, the experts say another, something even darker, thing that makes you clamp down tighter and worry even more. You just get your footing going down one path, when all of the sudden it feels like that path is shut down, forcing you to backtrack to find another path to the answers of inner harmony and peace in the midst of chaos. If life is a maze, this one feels like it has no discernable pattern, no direction to give on solace and hope.

But what we believe as Christians is that life is not so much a maze but a path that leads to God. This path may be winding and long. It may come with times when God seems far away and times when God seems very close. But regardless, the path is not for us to decipher as a puzzle but as a journey to pay attention on, knowing that it is God who is drawing us in. 

That's why to me, our journey right now is less like a maze and more like a labyrinth. Labyrinth's are ancient spiritual practices that are meant to replicate the walk we take through life. There is only one path on a labyrinth, and while compact, if you were to spread it out in a straight line the walk would be a long one. When you enter the labyrinth, the path is a lot like real life. Sometimes you find yourself close to the center, feeling close to the Source of all life. And yet sometimes, the path leads you farther away, on the fringe, wondering if you will ever make it to the end. 

But the good news is there is no way to get lost on the path. It leads to the center, a metaphor for God himself. And there are very few times I find after walking the labyrinth, that my head is not calmed and my heart is not centered on the One who guides all our paths and has his hand on all our ways.

The Labyrinth at St. Mark's Cathedral, Seattle

If you are looking for a little social distancing, St. Marks Cathedral on Capital Hill has a fantastic new labyrinth on their front lawn. There are also mini labyrinths you can trace with your finger you can order online (that is what I use most regularly). There is even an app or two you might try, or even beautiful pieces of wall art you can download and use.

Regardless, what's really important is to remember the truth; God has us snugly in God's hands on this journey, with the end result being known fully in his glory. The struggle we are in is not a maze to figure out but a labyrinthian journey, with God directing our path. That is good news, in my book 

Psalm 23 is a good reminder...

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.
²     He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
³     he restores my soul.
He leads me in right paths
    for his name’s sake.

⁴ Even though I walk through the darkest valley,
    I fear no evil;
for you are with me;
    your rod and your staff—
    they comfort me.

⁵ You prepare a table before me
    in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
    my cup overflows.
⁶ Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
    all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
    my whole life long.

Viral Learnings, Part Two: The Pandemic Songbook

It's interesting to see where you go to find comfort and peace in the midst of life's storms. It turns out we turn to a lot of different things--TV, movies, food, drink, unhealthy relationships--You name it, we try it as a sedative for the crashing waves we find ourselves in.

For me this year, it's been the Psalter. 

The Psalter is a fancy word for the book of Psalms, that 150 chapter songbook smack dab in the middle of the Bible. It's been said that while the rest of the Bible speaks to us, the Psalter speaks for us. In its pages, I can pretty much guarantee you will find words that will both match your mood while giving you hope. Feeling good, bad, angry, hurt, lonely, joyful--Whatever it is, your emotion will be in there directed at God, with God often speaking (or whispering) a response.

But when you are without hope, feeling like you are being tossed in life's storms, the Psalter is at it's very best. 

Over Lent, one of my spiritual practices has been reading the Psalter through Psalm by Psalm, roughly one per day. And what I've noticed during the course of this season is how very close the Psalmist knew that God was. 

I will love Thee, O Lord, my strength; the Lord is my foundation, and my refuge, and my deliverer.--Psalm 17

Our God is our refuge and strength, a helper in afflictions which mightily befall us.--Psalm 45

Save me, O God, for the waters are come into my soul.--Psalm 68

O Lord, hear my prayer, give ear unto my supplication in Thy truth; hearken unto me in Thy righteousness.--Psalm 142

All throughout, whatever the setting, one thing is for certain when you read the Psalter; the firm and certain knowledge that God is near and is within earshot of your call.

I need that right now. WE need that right now. More than anything else, I'm thinking. To know that we are not alone. To know that "social isolation" does not pertain to the God of love. To know that we can find hope even in a pandemic because nothing in our life is lost on the God who will never lose us. 

The Psalter. It's the Pandemic Songbook. And for that I am grateful.

Viral Learnings, Part One: Not In Spite Of but Through

Photo by Claire Rodahaver on Unsplash

At the start of this week, I was seeing this challenge of the COVID-19 pandemic as something like a tunnel; just something we need to buckle down and get through. Since I pastor a local church where pretty much everything we do is about tangible, in-person relationships, the idea of going only online for Worship, having every meeting through Zoom, and not being able to meet people for coffee or lunch to talk feels like a complete reversal of the incarnational nature of the church. But we do it because we are forced to. 

With that in mind, my mindset was wartime; bunker down, send up smoke signals once in a while (aka weekly online Worship and emails), make it as good as possible, remain a non-anxious presence; with the goal to come out on the other side as unfazed as possible, pick up the pieces, and carry on where we left off.

But now, I'm not sure that's true. Or even possible.

First off, there are no experiences of tragedy and fear that fail to leave indelible imprints on the heart and soul. Just as men and women who have endured war torn pasts as refugees, soldiers, or victims of violence, one doesn't get through life unscathed. The scars always remain. It's impossible to make it through a dark tunnel without bringing part of the tunnel with you.

But maybe that is ok.

My Dayle came home from school Thursday knowing that school had been cancelled as said, "I'm really sad to not be able to see my friends and miss out on all the fun parts of school. But we are living in an historic time, and we will be affected by it forever." From the mouths of babes (or teens in this case). She knows that this is a sad and scary time, but it will be formative. Forever. Her life (and all of our lives) will forever be changed because of this challenging season. 

That is good for us to remember. This isn't just a dark tunnel to go through. It is a dark night where we will come to learn some things about ourselves and ultimately about God; that God walks with us through the darkness and we come out changed. 

"If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," even the darkness will not be dark to You; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to You" (Psalm 139:11,12).

And so because that is true, we don't keep going  in spite of the pandemic, but we look to grow through it. The core of our faith in Jesus Christ is that God chose to walk with us through our sufferings. In so doing, we are drawn closer to him and actually have the possibility of a deeper experience of him than ever before. 

Because of that belief, we can have comfort and hope that we will grow through this pandemic, not in spite of it, but through it. Looking at it this way helps me lean into this fearful, anxiety laden, and destabilizing time, asking God what we might learn through it all. 

Because the fact is that we will learn something. If we are ready to see it.

Viral Learnings, An Introduction

Photo by CDC on Unsplash

As a 49 year old, I've never experienced this sort of thing; a virus burning its way through every corner of the world simultaneously.  I realized we aren't the first to face a pandemic like this (it happens every 100 years or so, they say). But when it is your own and yet everywhere, and promises to affect pretty much every part of your life and world, it brings you face to face with what you know (and what you don't) and what you have to trust in (and what isn't worth trusting in at all).

With that in mind, I've decided (as much as I can) to blog through this global challenge and discuss some "viral learnings" (pardon the pun) we can glean through times like this. 

Why? Because while God doesn't create pandemics to wipe out his creation, God can use even them to grow us in what is truly important--Our knowledge and love of God, our understanding of our selves, and our care for one another and God's creation. I'm praying for that, and expecting it to be true.

The thoughts shared are my own musings and done partly for myself to listen to God through this challenging time. But hopefully they can be of help to you, too, wherever you are at, in whatever circumstance you find yourself in. My hope is that we can take this time in the fire to be forged into something different, even better than before, as individuals, communities, the Church, and as a global family.

That's it for now. Take care, friends.

"Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God."--Psalm 20:7

Loving Jesus and washing my hands,

Jeff

Advent Voices

O Emmanuel

by Malcolm Guite

O come, O come, and be our God-with-us,

O long-sought with-ness for a world without,

O secret seed, O hidden spring of light.

Come to us Wisdom, come unspoken Name,

Come Root, and Key, and King, and holy Flame,

O quickened little wick so tightly curled,

Be folded with us into time and place,

Unfold for us the mystery of grace

And make a womb of all this wounded world.

O heart of heaven beating in the earth,

O tiny hope within our hopelessness,

Come to be born, to bear us to our birth,

To touch a dying world with new-made hands

And make these rags of time our swaddling bands.

(from Sounding the Seasons)

Underneath Miracles

This Sunday in the church I serve, we are starting a study of the miracles of Jesus. His miracles were wonderful in and of themselves, of course. To give sight to the blind and feed 5000 with 5 loaves and 2 fish were quite the feat for those effected. 

But what is special for me about the miracles of Jesus are not the miracles themselves, but what is going on underneath. It's the underneath that matters, and it's there that Jesus seems to do his best work.

Take for example the first miracle of Jesus, turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana in John 2. Much has been said of the symbolism of this act; how Jesus turns simple things into glorious things, how this wedding banquet was a foreshadowing of the heavenly wedding banquet yet to come between Christ and his "bride", the Church. It also shows how even adult sons should listen to their mothers. :)

But underneath this miracle is really a simple desire--that the bride and groom wouldn't be humiliated. Remember that in Jesus' day, people tended to live in the same town their entire lives, for generations. This young couple probably met when they were kids, fell in love, and their union was a connection and reflection of their two families. 

And the wedding feast was their chance to celebrate and treat their community, the community that raised them. 

And so to run out of wine, to have to kill the party before it was over--there was almost nothing more shameful. The humiliation would have haunted them for the rest of their lives.

But Jesus cared about their humiliation. The last thing he and his mother (where he learned it from, according to John 2) wanted was for this young couple to suffer such a fate. And so, Jesus turned water into wine--the best wine--turning their potential humiliation into a place of wonder and pride. 

One of the mandates of Jesus is that we follow him (Matthew 4:19), and that together we will do "even greater things" than the things we see him do (John 14:12). 

Now, that may not include turning water into wine (although, let's face it, the fact that humans can do this is incredible, a small miracle in fact). But it most definitely will include turning people's potential humiliation into security, comfort, and joy. Whenever we get a chance to do this--to lift someone up instead of tear them down, to come alongside them so that they don't fail (or don't fail alone)--whenever we work for the dignity of others, we are performing a water-to-wine-type miracle. 

I can raise a glass and toast to that. 

Cheers,


Jeff

Water

Recently, I had the chance to travel with 11 others from our SPC family to the country of Eswatini, a small, mostly forgotten country in the horn of Africa. Eswatini is a beautiful, mountainous, sleepy, peaceful country of roughly a million people in a land mass the size of the state of Massachusetts. It is filled with fields of maze and sugar cane, huts, roadside stands selling fruits and meats, and children walking everywhere. It is a country that doesn’t command too much attention. In fact, you might not think much of it at all. Until you hear about the challenges they face. Close to 1/3 of the nation is infected with HIV/AIDS. 1/3 of girls will be sexually assaulted by the age of 18. In Mahlalini (the community we were visiting), only 1/3 of the inhabitants have access to clean water. These are warning sirens screaming out a cry for help from beyond. When you hear of their challenges it feels like a 4-alarm fire, calling out to the world for help. And gratefully, that is where our church family through World Vision is making a difference. One of the things that was impressed upon us is how integrated these concerns are for the people of Eswatini. Their low education rate comes in part from the long walks to water their children take a few times a day (the world average is 6k per walk), thus taking away precious time for study. The high sexual assault statistics is also caused in part by the long walks to water, often down isolated paths to distant rivers and streams, where predators lurk. Poor healthcare stems from dirty water like the kind we saw, robbing bodies of much needed health.

In fact, as we saw World Vision’s work, it was amazing how many of the problems stem from having access to clean water close to home. If the water is clean, the sickness rates subside. If water is close, the long and dangerous walks to the stream and rivers are eliminated. We’ve all heard it said that “Water is life”. I would add to that “Access to clean water is life” works, too. Jesus says that when you give a cup of cold water to a child, you are living into the reward of God. Simple and profound. And that is what we saw World Vision doing in Eswatini with the resources the people from SPC generously give. World Visions has plans in the next 5 years to encompass the entire Mahlalini community with access to clean water. On the wall in their office is this photo of the miles and miles of pipe they are laying with the government’s help which will completely revolutionize life there. I can’t wait to head back to Eswatini in the future and see the lives that are affected. I would bet that all of the indicators of wholeness—lower HIV/AIDS rates, increased test scores in schools, less instances of sexual violence—will improve drastically. And we get to be a part of that. What an honor and privilege.