eternal, invisible

Most of the inner workings of my house seem somewhat magical to me.  I flip a switch and lights come on.  I turn a faucet handle and clean water comes out.  I flush a toilet and, well, I don’t really want to know what happens next, as long as it happens the way it’s supposed to (and when it doesn’t, as we experienced last December, it isn’t pretty).  We all have certain expectations for our electrical, water, and sewage systems, and most of the time those systems perform as expected.  Oh, there’s some maintenance required to ensure that everything continues to work, but in general we don’t think too much about what’s happening inside the walls and under the floor, where the pipes and wiring live.  On the other side of the drywall is a dark and mysterious land where I don’t speak the language and am unfamiliar with the customs.

But I suspect that what goes on in secret is actually the important stuff.  When everything works as it is supposed to, the result is that when I flip a switch I actually do get light (or heat, or whatever), and when I turn on the faucet I actually get water, and so on.  And when something is wrong, whether it’s a leaky pipe or a broken wire or any of a number of things, I don’t get what I expect.  Problems inside the walls are not easy to diagnose because they are hidden (and usually require the services of a professional to repair and are therefore costly).  What happens in Vegas might stay in Vegas, but what happens behind the walls can manifest itself out in the open in a very significant way.

Scripture tells us that the hidden, or invisible, is important:  “So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:18, NIV).  We take this to mean that material things—our belongings, even our very bodies—are temporary because they can be damaged or even destroyed, whereas spiritual things—faith, hope, love, and so on—are eternal.  We can’t see these eternal things but we can know them through their manifestation in the material world.  When I think of the word love, I think of the people I care about and how they show their love to me as well as how I show my love to them, sometimes through material things like food or money but more effectively through my gifts of time, which is a more precious commodity than any material thing because it cannot be replaced once used.

Scripture also warns us not to waste time building up treasure in the material world because such treasure is subject to theft, decay, and destruction; rather, we are to build up treasure in heaven (Matthew 6:19-20), not because heaven is like a giant vault that will keep our treasure safe but because the kind of treasure Jesus means is not material wealth but the evidence, or manifestation, of how I’ve spent my time on earth.  If I choose to dedicate my life to building up a stockpile of material things, when will I have the time to devote to caring for the poor or hungry, or visiting the sick or imprisoned (and I think this means not only the incarcerated but also people imprisoned by physical or mental illness), or even just serving those near me joyfully and generously?  And why is this so important?

Jesus said that our Father, who is unseen, takes notice of what we do in secret, which I think can mean the things that do not produce a tangible outcome or product.  God rewards us for having our priorities straight.  I think that is very good news!  Unfortunately, the world does not operate on the same principles that God does, and the world’s influence is very powerful.  Our culture tries to program us from birth to want certain things, a certain standard of living, regardless of what it will take for us to get it and then sustain it.  The other day I read a very interesting article about what our grandparents’ generation considered necessary, not only for survival but simply for a comfortable life, compared to our parents’ generation, my own, and our children’s.  It really is surprising to realize how much of what we think is “need” is really just “want.”  When I look at the way many people around the world live, I am pretty ashamed to turn my gaze back onto my own life and all the things I have surrounded myself with to ensure my own comfort.  I wonder what I have done lately in secret that would please my Father.

Thinking about these things can bring us back to the kind of life we are called to live.  Don’t get me wrong:  I’m not condemning all material things, and I don’t believe Jesus requires us all to give away our belongings and start a big Christian commune (although the intentional community movement is growing in the United States—Google it if you’re curious).  It’s simply a matter of priorities.  When I ignore the unseen (easy to do because it’s, you know, invisible) in favor of the seen, my life is out of balance.  Maybe I need to withdraw from the world a little bit, watch less TV, read fewer magazines, and instead spend more time in scripture, prayer, and serving.

Can a return to attention to the invisible instead of the material actually make me more grounded?  Will pushing back against my culture’s pressure to buy stuff make me more content?  It seems paradoxical, but then Jesus is the master of the paradox:  you can save your life by losing it, really?  Maybe it seems counterintuitive only because it’s counter-cultural, and culture exerts such a mighty influence on us.  This is a battle I’ll have to wage daily, so I can begin each morning by praying:

God, please let me live for you today.  Let your priorities be my priorities.  Loosen my grip on the things of this world and open my eyes, my hands, and my heart to those who need to know you and experience your love and grace.  Let my words and deeds be pleasing to you, and let this page of my life be written in your Story so that when I fail you I can be confident that you will give me other opportunities to live a day that brings you joy.

on forgiveness

If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.  (2 Chronicles 7:14)

But with you there is forgiveness,  so that we can, with reverence, serve you.  (Psalm 130:4)

Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and forgives the transgression of the remnant of his inheritance? You do not stay angry forever but delight to show mercy.  (Micah 7:18)

This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.  (Matthew 26:28)

The other guests began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?”  (Luke 7:49)

Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”  (Luke 23:24)

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!” After he said this, he showed them his hands and side. The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord.   Again Jesus said, “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.” And with that he breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone’s sins, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.”  (John 20:19-23)

Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.  (Colossians 3:13)

(New International Version)

everything beautiful

³¹ God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.

¹¹ He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. ¹² I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live.

Genesis 1:31 and Ecclesiastes 3:11-12, New International Version

Overland Park Arboretum and Botanical Gardens

Overland Park Arboretum and Botanical Gardens

Kansas City Zoo

Kansas City Zoo

indelibly marked

As I write this, the wind is shrieking outside my window, rattling the siding and windows.  Although my home is reasonably new and well insulated, if I hold my hand against the door frame I can feel cold air pushing through.  Until my family moved to Iowa nearly eight years ago, never had I experienced the 30-40 mph sustained winds with 50-60 mph gusts that are not at all uncommon here.  Snow and rain blow sideways, and the birds struggle not to get pushed backward.  What a day!

The rushing wind brings to mind a story from the book of Acts:  “When the day of Pentecost came, they [the apostles] were all together in one place.  Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting.  They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them.  All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit” (2:1-4a New International Version).

Last week the Christian church all over the world observed Ash Wednesday, which begins the season of Lent, the forty days (excluding Sundays) leading up to Easter.  It is a time for us to reflect on our faith walk and to prepare our hearts for both the sorrow and joy we will experience as we commemorate our Lord’s last meal with his disciples, his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, his betrayal, trial, and crucifixion, and, finally, his resurrection.  During last Wednesday’s service, many of the faithful had the sign of the cross traced onto their foreheads with ashes, a symbol of mourning and a prompt toward sober reflection.  The cross marks us as believers and followers of Jesus. Although we enjoy celebrating the joyful occasions, we are a people who must also remember and grieve the sorrowful ones.

That cross made of ash is an external, though temporary, mark.  There is a more important mark that does not appear on our flesh; rather, it is evident in how we live our lives.  The apostle Paul exhorts the church at Ephesus:  “And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption.  Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.  Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you” (Ephesians 4:30-32 NIV).  We are marked with the Holy Spirit, a sign to us of our redemption through the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross.  And what was done at the moment of our surrender to God through confession cannot be easily undone.  Once we have invited Jesus to capture our hearts and rescue us from our sin, the Holy Spirit takes up residence in us, and we are indelibly marked.

One Lenten tradition is to give up something that you feel has become an obstacle to a closer relationship with Jesus.  I’ve never felt compelled to do this before; usually I just try to re-commit to the disciplines:  studying the scriptures, praying, worshipping regularly with my church, serving in my community.  But this year I realized that I had let my computer take over my life.  It serves a useful purpose (this blog, for instance), but it also had become a black hole that consumed too much of my time and attention.  Giving up the computer entirely was not practical, but I could give up one aspect of it that had become a big time waster for me:  Facebook.  I resisted joining Facebook for a long time, but I finally gave in last year.  It’s fun to keep up with old and new friends and to share interesting things we find on the internet, but I was using it as a way to avoid doing other things, particularly the work of figuring out who I am meant to be.

I confess, I am a big procrastinator, and if I can immerse myself in one thing, I can easily justify not doing something else.  But as I have written here before, I am on a quest of self-discovery, and I realized that I will not find myself on my Facebook wall.  So for Lent this year, I gave up Facebook.  It wasn’t that difficult.  I am still reachable by email, phone, and text.  I do miss reading all the interesting things my friends post, but I can let that go for 40 (or so) days.  The trick is not to replace my Facebook time with other equally wasteful things.  Every day I have to remind myself that the whole reason I gave that up is to focus on who God is in my life and who I am becoming and whether I am moving in the right direction or any direction at all.  I realized that I have allowed myself to get stuck, and something will have to happen to un-stick me, and that something is not likely to happen if I am glued to the computer watching silly cat videos (which I admit I have a weakness for!).

Come, Lord Jesus.  Capture my heart anew.  Retrace the indelible mark of your Spirit within me.  Rescue me, I pray, from fear, from worry, from the noise inside my busy head, and let my thoughts, my words, and my actions be pleasing to you.  Make me into the person you know I can be.  I surrender. 

the greatest love of all

In the mid-1970’s Linda Creed and Michael Masser wrote a song that was recorded in 1977 by George Benson as an R&B hit and then again in 1986 by a young woman with a powerhouse voice:  Whitney Houston.  According to the song, “learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.”  The music is stirring and the lyrics are inspirational—but wrong.

I’m not saying that loving yourself isn’t important.  It is difficult if not impossible to love others if we despise ourselves.  But love of self pales in comparison to the truly greatest love of all:  the love God has for his creation, especially for his children.  Mother Teresa said, “We cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love.”  What is this great love, and how is it different from other forms of love?  I think the greatest love has at least three important attributes.

First, it is the gold standard for love.  All other forms of love are measured against God’s love.  The other day I was reading an interesting article whose author made a comparison between followers of Jesus Christ and the dogs at the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show.  She said that the dogs in the show were not compared to each other or competing against each other; rather, they were judged against the breed’s standard.  For each breed, the dog that most closely matched the traits of the standard or ideal was the winner.  Perhaps we in the church, she wrote, could take a lesson from this:  instead of comparing ourselves to each other and competing with other believers for “best in show,” we should be judging ourselves against the ideal human being, Jesus Christ.

Second, great love is sacrificial.  When couples marry, I think the most difficult adjustment they must make early on is submitting to one another.  If you as a single person are used to doing what you want, when you want, spending your money the way you want, then having to consider another person’s priorities, preferences, and feelings can be a real challenge.  Selfishness is poisonous to marriage, as it is to friendship and parenthood.  Years ago, when I told my parents that my husband and I were expecting, my mother said, “When you have children, your life is not your own.”  I didn’t fully understand what she meant until our daughter was born.  Raising her required me to set aside many of my own dreams and desires to help her fulfill hers and to ensure that she always knew that my love was not only unconditional but unshakeable.  To prove His love for us, God made a great sacrifice.  He knew when He gave us free will and laid down the law about sin that we would have to be rescued from ourselves, and it was His plan from the beginning to demonstrate the greatest love of all by withholding nothing from us, sacrificing Himself in our place so that we could have an abundant life with Him both now and in the future kingdom.

Third, great love is transformational.  Something happens to us, or should, when we realize that Jesus gave up his heavenly throne to become one of us, to live among us, to laugh and to cry, to feel joy and pain, to die for us so that the rift between us and God caused by our sin could be repaired.  My daughter frequently tells me that I am the best mom in the world.  Although I appreciate the compliment, it is difficult for me to accept it because I am painfully aware of all my shortcomings and failures as a mother.  She has either forgotten those failures or has chosen to overlook them, and her love challenges me to aspire to become the person she  believes I already am.  God’s love also is without condition but not without expectation.  He does not want us to be content to be less than we can be.  Once we experience His great love, we can humbly ask Him to remake us, to help us become the people He intended us to be when He first imagined us.  We can be transformed by His love into a people who go on to share that great love with others in all the big and small things we do.

If I had to choose one word to describe this greatest love of all, I would have to say “quality.”  God doesn’t just love more—He loves better.  Our love is often impure, tainted with the residue of our sinful nature.  We sometimes hold back our love because we treat it as an investment, and without the assurance of a good return we hesitate.  But love is not capital.  Its quantity is limited only by the degree of our generosity.  God’s love is not only limitless, it is also pure and freely offered.  What could happen if we accepted the full measure of this love and allowed it to overflow us, overwhelming our failures and shortcomings, drenching the world in the greatest love of all?  I believe we would call that living in the kingdom of God.

don’t be stubborn

Anyone who has children or has ever been a child is well acquainted with stubbornness.  Although stubbornness and determination could be considered two sides of one coin, stubbornness has a less-than-positive connotation.  We’re all familiar with the shouted “No!” accompanied by the stamp of a foot and the scowl on a small face.  We hope that as we mature, our stubbornness mellows into determination as we learn to choose our battles and dedicate ourselves to the causes that matter.  But stubbornness can rear its head when we feel powerless in a situation, when someone wants us to do one thing and we are inclined to do another (sometimes ANY other), and the only recourse we have is to grab onto our position with our teeth and refuse to let go.

But what do we do when that someone is God?  I would like to think that if I ever heard the actual voice of God telling me to do something, I would set down my pride and my stubbornness and be obedient.  But I know myself too well.  “How can I be certain that’s really you?” I would ask, and I would need some kind of a sign because heaven knows I wouldn’t want to deviate from my own wandering-in-the-wilderness path on unreliable information.  I like to think that I have a modicum of faith, surely a mustard seed’s worth, but really, in the times I’ve been tested I’ve usually felt as if I got moved by the mountain instead of the other way around.  So I have to wonder how hard I am listening for God’s voice if I am pretty sure I would ignore it even if I heard it.

If you hear God speak today, do not be stubborn. Hebrews 3:15

Like many of my friends, I stayed home to raise my child, intending to return to the outside working world “someday.”  Now that my daughter is nearly grown (I say nearly because she is a college student, and I think that puts her in that weird zone between childhood and true adulthood), I have been pondering what I am good for.  A 15-month stint in a data and call center convinced me that I don’t belong there, doing the same thing every minute of every day with two short breaks and a half hour for lunch.  After dedicating my life to the important work of raising another person from helpless infant to productive member of society (and, though I don’t take the credit, a wonderful, talented, intelligent young woman who wants to make her own mark on the world), I just can’t dig up much enthusiasm for helping some company make more money.  It’s hard to figure out how to transfer my gifts and talents from a relationship-based world to an output-based one, and I’m not sure I even want to try.  But there’s a nagging little voice inside my head that tells me I should be contributing to the household income, building our savings back up, getting ready for the next economic meltdown or the next layoff or the next whatever dramatic event nearly wipes us out.  So I start getting nervous.

My prayer is that God would reveal to me what I am, what He made me to be at this stage of my life.  And, like a lot of people, I look for signs and try to listen for His voice, hoping that one day it will just hit me:  oh, right, THAT’s what I should be doing; why didn’t I see it before?  Maybe I’m just dense, but it’s not happening.  Am I being stubborn?  Is God trying to break through all the noise in my head to tell me what to do, where to go, but I’ve already decided that I couldn’t possibly do whatever that is or go wherever He’s pointing because, well, I’m just not capable?  There’s an old saying:  God doesn’t call the equipped; He equips the called.  But is He calling me?  And if He is, to what?  Maybe it’s to a season of regrouping, of immersing myself in His word and in prayer, getting back to the basics of a closer relationship.  Could it be that simple?  Why would I resist?  Because I am stubborn.  I don’t like the not knowing.  All I really want is to KNOW.  I want to know what the goal is and how I’m supposed to get there, step by step.  I want to know what obstacles to expect along the way so I can plan for them.  I want plan B and plan C and whatever other contingency plans I’ll need.  I want a straight path with no unpleasant surprises.  I want.  I want.  I WANT!  Boy, am I stubborn.

Does God not care what I want?  Sure, He does.  But when I’m honest, I know that it’s more important that He cares what is best for me.  That means that I should be able to be confident that whatever happens, if I allow Him to, God will use it for my benefit.  If only I can get past my stubbornness and my pride and my fear, maybe I can just take a step in any direction and it will be okay because I am not alone.  The God of the universe is with me.  Where might we go together?

Where, indeed.

all things new

Now that the holidays are over and the new year is underway (and the Iowa caucuses are done), things seem to be settling back down to the normal winter routine, although yesterday the weather was trying to persuade me that it is April, not January, with warm temperatures, clear blue skies, and soft breezes.  After seven cold and snowy winters, some extremely so, I thoroughly enjoyed this strange, gentle touch of spring.  I know winter will return (and it will still be dark by five o’clock), but I am reminded that spring isn’t really that far away, and new life will emerge as the days lengthen and the warm breezes return.

To me, January 1 has never felt like the beginning of a new year.  It’s sort of a let-down after Christmas.  The music has waned, the decorations and lights must come down and be packed away for another year, and, for many people, it’s back to the old diet after a season of indulging.  Instead, the back-to-school days feel more like the beginning of a new year, perhaps because nearly all my life I’ve been a student, a teacher, or a parent.  With a mixture of excitement and sadness, I’ve transitioned from the more carefree days of summer to the back-to-work mornings of autumn, which will soon roll into the cold, dark season of winter.  But a new school year seems full of possibilities, with things to learn, old friends to reconnect with and new friends to meet, and the busyness of classes, books, and extracurricular activities.

The Bible talks a lot about the new.  According to one source I checked, the word new appears 183 times in the New International Version.  From the beginning (Genesis), when He made a whole world from nothing, to the end (Revelation), when He declares, “I am making everything new!” God is always doing new things.  It’s sort of His trademark, isn’t it?  A creator can’t help making something new: it’s in the job description.  And for us, the most important new thing is our new life, God’s gift through His sacrifice on the cross.  The book of Lamentations tells us:  “Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness” (chapter 3, verses 22-23).  We do not need to fear being overwhelmed by sin because God loves us too much to allow that.  His compassion and grace are fresh and new every day, ready to rescue us when we fall short of the perfection that He desires for us.  All of creation will be made new in the last days, but we can be remade whenever we confess our wrongdoing and ask for forgiveness:  God might tire of our sin, but He doesn’t tire of washing us clean and giving us yet another fresh start.

We are writing our life’s story as we move, moment by moment, through time.  Without God’s grace, our lives would be empty and our stories meaningless.  Thanks to a loving and compassionate God, we can be assured that each of us has a purpose, and when we reach the end of our story we can be confident that even in our imperfection, we matter to God.  But we are also characters in the great story that God Himself is writing.  We might be the narrator or protagonist in our own tale, but we don’t know our role in God’s greater story until the final page is turned.  Whatever our purpose is in this story of stories, we can be sure that we will be equipped and prepared to accomplish it because scripture tells us so:  “being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus” (Philippians 1:6).  We do not need to feel threatened by the new challenges the future presents because we are the children of a loving God, whose blessings are abundant and reliable and whose love is always and eternally new.

only now

Recently I watched a show on public television about time.  As the physicists explained what science can tell us about the past, present, and future, I began to wonder if Henry David Thoreau didn’t have it right when he wrote, “Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in” around 150 years ago.  He went on: “I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains” (Walden; or, Life in the Woods).  I like the image of mercurial time flowing across immutable eternity.

To me it’s strange to think that while we humans are subject to time, God is not.  For God, there is no past or future (those physicists might argue that the future does not even exist or is, at best, only theoretical).  In eternity, everything is in the present because time doesn’t exist.  Once I read somewhere that it’s as if everything that has ever happened or will ever happen is in a book, and although we experience the book one page at a time, in order, from beginning to end, God can open the book and turn to whatever page he likes because it is all under his authority.  We can remember the events of the past, but we cannot relive them; we can speculate about the future, but we cannot go there.  We must experience life one day—one moment—at a time.

Living in the present is difficult.  There are things we might regret saying or doing, but they are in the past and we can’t change them.  There are things that haven’t happened yet that we might be anxious about, but they are in the future and we can’t control them.  Why is it so hard to anchor ourselves to the here and now?  I think such a thing requires discipline.  Whenever I realize I am drifting away, either backward or forward, I need to focus on the moment I’m living, right now.  This requires that I become mindful of where my thoughts are taking me and that I have the desire to experience life anew, not just relive what I’ve already done or imagine what I might do.  Such a thing also requires courage.  We don’t know what will happen as a result of our actions or decisions, so we do the best we can with what we do know, and we leave the rest up to God.  So such a thing also requires faith.  We have to be confident that whatever comes next, whether we are directly or indirectly responsible for it, we will be able to accept it and move on.  We also need to be able to believe that if something bad happens, in some way we can benefit from the experience, even if only by surviving it.

We are more than the choices we make, but those choices are significant.  We might look back and wonder how we could have been so wrong about decisions we’ve made.  But we need to remember that we are constantly being shaped by the moments we live, so that person who made a certain choice in the past might make a very different choice now.  When we try to look forward, to imagine all the possible outcomes of a decision, there are many scenarios; when we look backward, there is only one. We have to be gentle with ourselves and forgive ourselves for what have turned out to be bad decisions made with good intentions.  Regret is a powerful force that tries to keep us in the past.

That doesn’t mean we have to forget the past or ignore the future.  The past is not our enemy but our teacher.  We all need to recall yesterday so we can enjoy the pleasant memories and learn from our mistakes, and we need to plan for tomorrow with the expectation that we will continue our journey.  But the time to actually live our lives is today, this moment, because now is the only time we have.

prayer

Oh, God, occupy my heart this Christmas.
Pitch a tent and move in all your necessities for life.
Set up stations of service:
one to heal me of my selfishness and discontent;
another to feed my spirit that is hungry for love and acceptance;
one to teach me the language of your blessedness;
another to show me how to offer grace.

Sing to my soul that longs for the music of eternity.
Dance around my busyness and calm my frantic mind.

Shout out to me about my pride and high-mindedness, and
convict me of my tendency to ignore your pointing finger that tries
to direct me to your work, your beckoning arm that I so easily
disregard, for surely you can’t be calling me to this low station.

On everyday Christmas morning, as I open again and again the gifts
that you give me, again and again,
slap my hand that sets these aside to strive for those you
have given to others, not me.  Make me mindful
of squandered talents, time, and resources, and give me the need
to celebrate you with the work of my hands.

In this season of opposites, of abundance and abject poverty, let it be
my heart and not my credit card that overflows with love and grace.
Give me a generous spirit that withholds nothing, as you withheld nothing
from a world that rejected you, still rejects you, is unworthy of you.

Replace the noisy storm in my head with your peace and stillness,
quiet as a snowy night.
Surprise me with joy when I’m expecting anything else but joy.

And although I try to evict you when you’ve become a nuisance,
stand your ground, refuse to leave, and make a holy mess;
demand justice for all the times I insulted you,
denied you, neglected you.
When I call out the big guns, you just dig in and say you aren’t
going anywhere, no matter what I do.  Say you are here for the long run,
and whatever it takes,
you are going to make yourself at home in my heart.

Amen and amen and amen.

step by step

Last Friday I wrote about the necessity of becoming like little children if we want to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.  Once we’re all grown up, with adult responsibilities and commitments, how can we ever return to the simpler times of childhood?  And simplicity is a key ingredient in childlikeness, isn’t it?  Henry David Thoreau said, “Our lives are frittered away by detail. . . . Simplify, simplify, simplify!”  Thomas à Kempis said, “Purity and simplicity are the two wings with which man soars above the earth and all temporary nature.”  And Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote, “It is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all.”  (All quotations taken from http://www.heartquotes.net/Simplicity.html.)

Temporary nature.  The real things of life.  Hmm.  In 2 Corinthians 4:18 we read, “So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”  If we focus on the eternal instead of the temporary, we can avoid getting caught up in the latest fads, in gadgets, in material things of all kinds and instead live in God’s Kingdom, which is eternal.  If our priorities are God’s priorities, if we align ourselves with what Jesus taught was important, we can start to catch a glimpse of the Kingdom.  What a dramatic change we must make in how we view the world if we want to see it through the eyes of a child!  People we have overlooked suddenly grab our attention, and our hearts feel a peculiar longing.  What next?  We are on the road to discipleship, so we walk, step by step.

As we approach the trinity holiday season of Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s, we have a great opportunity to examine and explore our faith journey, our road to discipleship.  I’d like to propose a three-step process that acknowledges the autumn and winter holidays and can help us along our walk.

First, Thanksgiving:  we need to realize how blessed we are and express our gratitude.  We can and surely do this silently in prayer already, but I suggest another way.  Choose something for which you are especially grateful, such as plenty of good food to eat, and express gratitude to God by feeding the hungry, by volunteering at or donating to your local food pantry or other organization that focuses on food.  If you’re grateful for a warm, dry home, volunteer at or give to Habitat for Humanity or a similar charity.  One of my favorites is World Vision, which offers many ways for me to express my gratitude for food, shelter, education, and clean water by providing these things to people in need all over the world.

Second, Christmas:  this holiday is all about gifts.  Yes, retailers love it because we spend lots of money on stuff, but it’s really about The Gift, the child in the manger, the savior of the world.  So focus on gifts you have received from God in the form of talents and abilities and gifts of the Holy Spirit, and serve in those areas of giftedness at your church and in your home and community.  Help your children discover their gifts, too, and find ways for them to serve.  You might be surprised at how meaningful they find this, especially as they realize that God has placed talents and abilities in them that they can call on to actually help build the Kingdom of Heaven in their own communities.

Third, New Year’s:  for me, this holiday is about fresh beginnings, and I always tend to be introspective about the year past and the one just beginning.  What did I do that was worthwhile?  How can I be better?  Am I sufficiently thankful, and am I serving in my areas of giftedness?  January 1 is the end of the holiday celebrations and the beginning of a long stretch of cold, dark days with the warmth and new life of spring only a pleasant memory and a wishful thought.  It’s the perfect time to examine deeply who we are, who God made us to be and how we have allowed ourselves to be shaped both by Him and by worldly influences.  Can we open our hearts more widely to let God in to remake us in His image?  Will we let Him break us, as a potter breaks the imperfect piece, returns it to clay, and remolds it?  Will we trust Him to act in our best interests (this is an especially difficult one for me because I have trust issues) and accept His intrusion into our plans?  Will we be alert to His voice?  Will we be willing to change and grow?  Will we be like little children and let Jesus lead us?

Unless we become like children, Jesus says, we cannot enter the Kingdom.  I know I want to be there, even if it means letting the God of the universe into my clenched little heart.  What about you?