Jesus is standing outside your door RIGHT NOW! He stands in the rain or the falling snow, depending on the weather where you live. He’s holding your Christmas present.
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It was like he pushed his boot through the book he wrote, the one I was reading, and kicked me in the rear.
Ouch!
“What did you do that for?” I asked the book accusingly.
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I held my head in my hands, the non-physical pain consuming me, twisting my body to reflect my inner state.
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It was dark. I grasped the floor, trying to find some unseen object. I couldn’t remember what I was looking for, but I knew it was on the floor, not far away.
If I could only pick it up!
“Where are you?” I cried, tears streaming down my face. Then I brushed up against something, the finger of God. I tried to grasp it but went in the wrong direction by mistake and lost my sense of where it was again.
But now my heart was beating with hope.
The tears stopped flowing, just a riverbed of dry tears streaming down my face, now.
“Where are you, God?” I called out. Hope filled my heart.
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I want to be clear that I don’t think God knows what he’s doing with this one annoying habit of letting everyone use His name and, therefore, call themselves a Christian.
(I.e. Christian comes from the word Christ, as in followers of Jesus Christ.)
Look, I wish all the Christians looked like Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta, too. But they don’t. At least they could all look like Bill Gates and maybe not be super handsome but have an intellectual coolness in their back pocket.
Look, just so it’s clear if I was vetting admittance to the Jesus team, I’d have admittance cards.
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So it’s my birthday!
My blog’s birthday, that is. My blog is two years old this week*. I can’t believe you found me in this unknown, unvisited corner of the internet!
And wow!
I can’t believe that every day, 10 of you** (No, I didn’t forget any zeros. Why do you ask?) read this stuff! And it’s not just the people in my family I bribe with food anymore! Whisper: Don’t people have anything better to do nowadays?
What I meant to say is: Wow! You must really like me!
Wait. What I meant to say is: Think of all the fame and glory I have!
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I put on my gloves, breathing in the brisk fall air and preparing to stomp on some fallen leaves with her as we walked together.
I excitedly anticipated hearing what ups and downs on the journey of life had coaxed her to recently move to our little town by the river, and to join our homey little church.
Spending time with her felt like a bit of a slap upside the head, however. But the good kind of slap upside the head. The type of slap helps you see things afresh and shakes out the cobwebs.
[God will give] a thorough housecleaning, getting rid of all the historical and religious junk so that the unshakeable essentials stand clear and uncluttered.
“Oh, there’s Raymond,” my new friend muttered under her breath as we passed by a disheveled, drug-addled young man. I was anxious to get back to our conversation and see what happened next in her life story. I coaxed, “but what made you move to . . . ”
She wasn’t listening.
“Hi, Raymond,” she called out. He smiled, genuinely pleased to see my friend, and waved at the three of us. At that exact moment, I looked around to see who must have smacked my new friend, as her eyes were inexplicably filling with tears. The cold fall air, I wondered. A brisk walk often made my eyes run, too.
But she was still talking about Raymond.
“Sometimes I just hold him in my arms and tell him God loves him,” she whispered, her eyes tearing. I looked around for who she could be speaking about. Had an old friend of hers just passed us as well? There was no one else around. My neck craned in all directions, and I stared wide-eyed at my new friend, slowly understanding she was still talking about Raymond.
“You do WHAT??” I wondered, horrified.
I quickly composed myself. I mean, I am a Christian, so of course, I – ahem – knew EXACTLY what she was talking about . . . er . . . knew of people who knew exactly what she was talking about . . . er . . . I mean, who doesn’t grab the odd smelly bum we pass on the street and hold them in our arms, crying tears of God’s love for them?
To reassure me, however, I made a mental note to check my “Christian Club Membership Card” when I got home to ensure it hadn’t expired.
Her heart mirrored a tiny piece of the heart of Jesus, and her words seemed to mirror what would have fallen from His lips.
I stared wide-eyed at this new friend.
She was still silently weeping. “I sense such a Spirit of God on him,” she said so quietly it was almost a whisper. I looked back at Raymond, who was walking away from us. He had waved and walked on.
The image of tears of love spilling from her face onto Raymond reminded me of another woman whose tears of love spilled onto Jesus.
Just then a woman of the village . . . came with a bottle of very expensive perfume and stood at [Jesus’] feet, weeping, raining tears on his feet. Letting down her hair, she dried his feet [and] kissed them, and anointed them with the perfume.
You can love a person dear to you with a human love, but [many] can only be loved with divine love.
Leo Tolstoy in War and Peace
As we continued walking in silence, I wondered:
– WHO really is Raymond?
– WHO am I?
– WHO is Jesus?
It seemed I was blind to all three.
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We start skiing on the green runs.
We start working on our marriage by successfully applying two nonsense words to our marriages. But you are ready for the blue runs, the intermediate terrain. One blue ski run (or intermediate acronym) for the daring only is:
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Just because the battle of [insert famous battle name here – I’m not a Historian, ok?] was lost, doesn’t mean those soldiers lost the war too!
The same is true in the war that many in our culture are fighting to open our eyes to the reality that climate change is real.
We’ve lost a battle or two, granted.
For example, consider the implementation of climate solutions and the recent US election. I am not a Harris supporter by any stretch of the imagination. (Also, I’m Canadian, so no one cares who I would have voted for. AND, it’s much easier to criticize leaders trying to create positive change than to come up with real solutions that work!)
The point is that we lost another battle in the war against recognizing that climate change is even a “thing” with the election win of Mr. Trump.
But just because climate change has lost another battle, that doesn’t mean we have lost the war in finding a solution to our climate woes – Not by any stretch.
It is time to close the chapter in the book “Let’s talk about climate change rationally, using science.”
Instead, let’s focus on applying and implementing this one solution.
Let’s focus on food.
No, I did not leave my rationale mind over there as I wrote this post over here.
Stay with me.
In Paul Hawken’s book “Regeneration: Ending the Climate Crisis in One Generation,” there is surprising hope in implementing Regenerative Agriculture.
Don’t have time to read?
Check out this free movie, Kiss the Ground Film | Official Website
A Hollywood Actor narrates the movie, so that’s how we know it is the truth!
Just kidding – There is LOTS of science here and a growing movement.
“Kiss the Ground is an audience-supported nonprofit promoting regeneration and healthy soil as a viable solution for our wellness, water, and climate crisis. Since 2013, we’ve inspired millions to participate in the Regenerative Movement through storytelling, education and partnerships.”
Oh, and another benefit – when you put less poison in the form of hyper-processed foods into your body and recognize food ITSELF is healing, you’ll probably feel a lot better, too!
There is a movement of people who have started to be accidentally healed of various modern ailments through eating healthier foods, but we’ll talk about that another time.
Oh, and we can avert the climate crisis once this movement snowballs, too, without mentioning the term “climate change.”
The thing is (whisper):
God has a solution to EVERY problem we see in our world.
We have hope! Let’s dance! No problem is too big for our God.
As the song below plays, ask God, “Has my hope been reduced to the size of politics or the problems in my life and our world? Forgive me. Would You help me place my hope in the One who is bigger than every problem?”
“If . . . my people, my God-defined people, respond by humbling themselves, praying, seeking my presence, and turning their backs on their wicked lives, I’ll be there ready for you: I’ll listen from heaven, forgive their sins, and restore their land to health. From now on I’m alert day and night to the prayers offered . . . “
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She’s a good friend.
I met her doing something we both loved – a downhill ski trip at University. We became fast friends, singing loudly, goofing off, and obnoxiously yelling at those below as we rode the chairlift that weekend. In the evening, over hot chocolate and quiet talks, there were many similarities in the hurts we had experienced, the focus of our lives, and the path our futures were leading us toward.
It seems God had brought us together and blessed our friendship with a small piece of His love that we could offer each other.
And so the friendship grew.
And then came the bomb
It landed beside the little plant God was nurturing, our friendship. The blast ripped bits of the plant, and oh, the pain! The pain in God’s heart was unbearable, breaking His heart too.
And oh!
How God mourned! He mourned for the future leaves and blossoms and roots that this little plant hadn’t yet had time to grow. He mourned for the hungry people who would come to this little plant looking for the fruit it was to grow to satisfy their hunger pains.
He mourned that instead of refreshing juicy fruit that would strengthen them, they would find only a withered, dry plant – a few leaves and a twig.
And oh, how the heart of God aches when friendships are spoiled!
We sat nearby, watching, startled at His suffering. Our hearts felt only indignation towards the other. And God tore his shirt, as the ancients did in a time of great mourning, His outer garment reflecting the state of His heart, broken.
Our sin was ripping the little plant apart, threatening its very survival.
Wounded!
“How can I show My love to this world,” He asks sorrowfully, “when My people don’t dwell together in unity? How can those hungry, sick souls taste love when you don’t give and receive it to and from each other?” He rocks back and forth in lament.
“How can My world be beautiful like a garden when the flowers of friendship and love among My people, a people called by My name, do not grow? How can others find their way to My heart by following a path of beauty if no beauty is found among my chosen flowers? How can you live without love?” He pleads
And so we, too, finally catching the Father’s heart in our own, rend our clothes and rock back and forth in the ancient posture of lament.
How have I allowed sin to hold back the growth in the relationships He has gifted me?
And so we run to our lost friend, like the Father of the prodigal son to his lost child.
When he was still a long way off, his father saw [his son]. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him.
We offer our hearts to our distant friend, like the cold elder brother finally offering love to his Father.
His father said, ‘Son, you don’t understand. You’re with me all the time, and everything that is mine is yours . . . ”
Together, we friends lift our hearts to God, broken and damaged. We come together, limping and wounded, from the damage we caused each other to our heavenly Father, and we ask for the oil of healing* for us and our friend.
And He is pleased.
The cost of a thing is the amount of what I will call life that is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run.
And the plant now mending* and with roots twisting together in love, can face any storm. And the fruit is only a matter of time.
So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit. Right now, therefore, every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in the community of faith.
Footnotes
*Examples of God pouring oil of healing over us as individuals and as relational creatures are discussed here and in future posts.
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