When the Waiting is Over

Three years ago this month my wife stepped out of a job that was really a calling.  While she still loved what she did, loved the people she worked with, and loved the children she served, she knew it was it was time for her to transition out. 

Naturally, she began to think about what she would do next.  When she started to explore her options what she heard from God was, “Wait, I have got this.”  She waited.

This was not too difficult in the beginning, but as the weeks turned into months and months turned into years it became harder.

My wife did feel the freedom to volunteer during this season and began serving people through an organization that works with those who are in need of companionship and care.  What she was asked to do ran the gamut from helping someone run errands and taking them out to lunch to bathing those who could no longer bathe themselves.  Sometimes what she was asked to do was outside of her comfort zone, but she did it anyway, seeing it as an opportunity to love.

Her willingness to engage with people in whatever need they had gave her the opportunity to be with them and their families in some of the most impactful moments of life.  She had the privilege of helping families walk through the transitions which come as age and disease take their course, encouraging those in families who found themselves in the position of caregiver, and being there as loved ones slipped into eternity.  While what she was asked to do was not always comfortable, these moments made her service sacred.

Still, she wondered when she would be released from the waiting.  There would be times where she would start looking for a job, career or calling and what she would hear as she sat at the computer searching was God whispering, “I told you to wait.  Trust me.”

At one point she had a large regional church in Southern California want her to be their Children’s Director.  It was not only a position she knew and loved, it would be working for a well known church she respected and with whom she shared a common philosophy of ministry.  It seemed like a perfect fit, but what she heard God say was, “This is not it, wait.” 

When she called and told the person with who had contacted her at the church what God had told her about taking the position, they affirmed her decision, saying, "Your willingness to listen to God is one of the reasons we saw you as a good fit."  I think my wife must have wondered what God was up to, since letting go of this opportunity was akin to letting your dream job slip through your fingers. Yet she had heard Him clearly, so she waited.

Two weeks ago, my wife and I were talking and our conversation led her to look something up on the internet.  As she did, a job posting came up for the organization where she has been volunteering.  I told her she should apply.  I could see she was excited about the possibility, but not wanting to get ahead of God, she asked Him.  She felt the freedom to proceed.

It took only two days before the organization contacted her and asked her to come in for an interview.  When they met the director asked her how she had heard about the position.  Tammie explained she had seen it on the internet.  This puzzled her interviewer because, to their knowledge, no one had posted the job on the site.  She thought it was odd that Tammie found it there, but was happy she did.

One of the things which can be hard about having served as a Children’s Director for 17 years is much of what you did is not completely understood outside of the church.  In the interview, when Tammie went to explain her former job the woman interviewing her stopped her and said, “I know what you did. Your church had a reputation in the community for a very strong Children’s program.”  The comment both affirmed how Tammie had invested her life in the previous season, and it gave hope that this organization could see how the experience could translate into the job which was being discussed.

As they talked the director discoverer Tammie had volunteered in each of the five areas of services the organizations provides.  She was also surprised to find out Tammie had represented them at volunteer fair and had designed the flyer they had recently sent out for printing.  Tammie had done all of these things as simple acts of service in a time of waiting never thinking about how they might be preparing her for what was to come.

She walked out of the interview feeling it went well, but wanting to hold it all loosely.  When you have invested three years in a willingness to wait on God, you do not want to throw it all away simply because there is an opportunity at an organization you believe in and for which you can see yourself working. 

Tammie went home and prayed.  For the first time in three years she did not hear her Heavenly Father tell her to wait.  She began to hope.  Could this be what he had been doing and preparing all along? 

References were checked and a phone call was eventually made offering Tammie the position.  They told her they knew when she walked out of the office, she was the right fit.  Having waited for three years for this moment, Tammie accepted the offer and is now stepping into a position which seems perfect for her gifts, skill sets and passions.  It is a position which God has seemingly been preparing her for in this season of wait.

Looking back now, it seems so clear what God was doing.  All the pieces fit. During that time, however, there was no such clarity.  There was only the call to wait and the choice to trust. 

I am excited for my wife and her new job.  I know because of her unique blend of strategic thinking, gift of administration, creativity and ability to lead people one day someone will say of her work at this organization, “I know what you do; your organization has a strong reputation for compassionate support and care of people.”

But that is not what I am most excited about.  I am most excited to be married to a woman who is willing to wait, even with things were not as clear as they are now and when it cost her, what seemed like, the perfect job.  I am excited through her waiting we as a family experienced once again, at a deeper level, the reality God is indeed trustworthy and can be taken at His word. 

There is always a great temptation to make something happen, to get out ahead of God.  Giving into this temptation never leads to God's best. What we need to develop instead is the capacity to listen for His voice and follow where it leads, even if it is into a time of waiting. 

Waiting gives us an experiential knowledge of God's presence, provision, activity, kindness and love. My wife would tell you this make it worth the wait.

Waiting also develops and grows something in us.  As Tammie said to me, “I will always be different; my relationship with God will always be different, for having walked through this season.” It is the kind of different which builds a foundation which allows you to trust God even greater still. It is the kind of different which leads you places far better than anything you could make happen.  It is the kind of different which is born out of trust and hope and imparts strength and life. Waiting transforms us and allows us to see first hand the traces of the sacred.

Wait for the Lord:

be strong and take heart

and wait for the Lord. - Psalm 27:14

Those who wait for the Lord

Will gain new strength;

They will mount up with wings like eagles,

They will run and not get tired,

They will walk and not become weary. – Isaiah 40:31

Sell All Your Possessions and Ride a Skateboard

Several years ago, while visiting friends, their son excitedly showed me his quarter pipe skateboard ramp and grinding rail.   It was exciting to watch him as he flipped his skateboard on the rail and slid down the length of the steel, and as he dropped down off the lip of the quarter pipe and raced down the driveway. 

It seemed like a lot of fun and I had the idea it might be worth a try.  Now, I knew there was no way I could flip that board up onto that rail, but I thought there was a chance I would be able drop into quarter pipe.  My mistake was I spoke this idea out loud and the boy began to encourage me to try. When I hesitated, he proceeded to egg me on.  I think he may have even used the word “Chicken”.  What was I to do?

I watched him take a few more turns dropping into the pipe, asking questions each time about what he was doing and how it should feel to drop off the edge.  He was more than helpful.  I think he was now feeling some responsibility for my decision and wanted to do everything he could to insure my success.  After all, nobody wants to be the guy who talked someone into cracking their head open on your parent’s driveway.

After a few minutes I realized it was now or never, so I took the board, set it on the edge just like he told me to, and hung there, one foot firmly on the tail of the board which was resting on the top of the pipe and the other lightly touching the front of the board.  The young man continued to give me instructions on how to drop in.  Like a pro athlete who visualized the shot before he takes it, I allowed the image of me dropping in and rolling down the driveway play over and over in my mind. 

 Finally I committed, well sort of. The board began to move and I went with it, but I did not fully commit.  My friend’s son had told me over and over you had to put your weight on your front foot when you went.  What I found is your body wants to do just the opposite.  It wants to stay firmly planted on the back foot because it feels secure.  To transfer your weight to the front foot seems unnatural and risky, but I discovered the hard way, it is also the safest thing to do.

I dropped in, my weight still planted on my back foot.  Rather than feeling the thrill of riding the skateboard down the ramp, I felt the board squirt out from under me, throwing my feet up into the air and by upper body down onto the concrete.  Thankful, I did not crack my head open, but I did hurt my wrist.  At the time I jumped up and acted as if I was fine.  It then proceeded to get in my car and drive away as quick as possible.  My pride could not let him know I had done more than just embarrass myself.  It took weeks before my wrist healed and felt right.

This painful lesson taught me when it comes to dropping into a quarter pipe, you have to fully commit.

In the Scriptures there is a story about a man who meets Jesus.  He does not want to learn to skateboard, but he does ask Jesus to teach him something.  He asks Jesus, “What good deed must I do to have eternal life?”  Jesus replied by saying, “If you want to enter life, keep the commandments.”  The man asked Jesus which one and Jesus shared several.  What Jesus said must have made the man feel good, because he reported to Jesus, “All these I have kept.”  And yet, he seemed to know in his own heart that it was not enough for he also said, “What do I still lack.”

Jesus responded by telling him to put all his weight on his front foot when he dropped in.  With love in His heart for the man Jesus said, “If you want to be perfect, (if you want to know the joy and thrill of riding down the face of the ramp and speeding down the driveway), sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

What Jesus was asking must have felt unnatural and risky, but Jesus was not extending an invitation which would lead to this man’s peril.  He was inviting him to life.  He was calling him to make the safest move.

There the man stood in front of Jesus, one foot hanging on the edge of the board and the other planted firmly on the security of the ramp.  I wonder what visualizations were going through his mind?  Was he thinking about how abundant life would be if he put all his weight on his front foot, or was he thinking about how perilous it would be for him to let go of the security of his wealth.  I think it must have been both.  We do not know for sure, but we do know latter image won out. 

The Scriptures do not tell us what happens to the young ruler after his encounter with Jesus.  We know enough to understand in his moment of hesitation the invitation shot out from underneath him and he was upended. Something was injured in his unwillingness to leave the security he had known, in order to take hold of the life he was being offered. We are told he was saddened by the choice he felt he had to take.  Sadness is born out of loss.  He knew he had lost something significant in his decision and went away grieving.  

This man’s story of loss teaches us, in order to take hold of the freedom and fullness of the life offered by Jesus, you have to fully commit.

I do not know when your moment will come, but I know there will be a time when you find yourself with one foot securely planted on what feels solid and secure and the other dangling on the end of a board. In this place, you will be confronted with the choice of keeping your weight on your back foot, where it feels secure, or shifting it to your front, trusting that the move will actually be safer than holding back or hesitating. 

Maybe you are poised on the lip of the pipe right now, trying to visualize what it will be like to actually make the move.  The only choice which leads to life is to shift your weight.  Do it now. Do it without hesitation. Let go of what you are holding onto for security and fall into safety.  Choosing not to, or being tentative, will do nothing but upend and injure you.  

Take the risk, drop in even if it feels unnatural and you will know the thrill of riding down the face of a pipe and racing the down the driveway in freedom.

Of Whales and Waiting

This past week we were blessed by some friends with a three night stay at a resort in Avila Beach.  On the first morning, I went down to a patio which overlooks the Pacific Ocean.  I took a book, some coffee and settled in to read, pray and sit in the silence.  It seemed like the perfect way to begin our stay.

Not long after I got comfortable, and before I had turned too many pages of my book, I heard the unmistakable sound of a whale breaking the surface of the water and clearing her blow hole.  I looked up from my book quick enough to watch the humped back of a whale dip back under the water, leaving behind only a froth of foam where her body had been moments before.

I put the book down and began to scan the water between the two piers, which were to the right and the left of my perch, to see if I might be lucky enough to catch another glimpse this majestic mammal.  In the next few minutes I discovered there were others with her, at least six, who were feeding on a school of anchovies, which luckily had decided to make its home for the day just off shore.

I would have imagined this would have been a fleeting spectacle, but it lasted all day long. For several hours that morning and for a few more in the afternoon I sat in the same spot watching the whales feed.  They not only broke the surface to take a breath of fresh air, they would also breach, jumping high into the air before crashing down onto the surface of the sea.  Sometimes, two and three whales would come up together, almost as if they were having a competition to see who could jump the highest.  They were probably engaged in bubble net feeding in which the whales work together to herd the fish into a smaller area and then swim up together through the middle of them with their mouths wide open, catching hundreds of fish in the process. 

I cannot tell you how beautiful and mesmerizing all of this was, or how powerful and yet unhurried they seemed to be.  I was content to simply sit and find joy in each sighting.

I was not the only one.  Eventually, crowds formed at the end of one of the piers and on the road below the patio where I was sitting.  When the whales would breach, a collective gasp of delight would rise from the people below me, or echo across the waters from those standing at the end of the pier. The whales would chase the fish around the bay in such a way that no matter your vantage point, everyone eventually had a front row seat.  The only way you could have had better was to be in one of the kayaks which were gathered underneath one of the piers.

I decided if the whales were in the area the next morning my daughter and I would have to see if we could not get ourselves into one of those kayaks.  They were, we did, and it was spectacular. 

Having had this experience did not keep me from returning later that afternoon to the same spot where I had first seen the whales.  I brought my book, but knew I would probably simply return to a posture of silently watching and waiting for what might appear before me.  While the whales were not nearly as active (at least above the surface) as the day before, they were still present.  It took a little more attentiveness but if you watched you would see the beauty, power and majesty of their presence. 

Not long after I sat down in my spot a husband and wife came and stood next to me.  A whale had just surfaced on the other side of the pier.  You could not see her clearly, but you could hear the strong exhalation of air clearing her blowhole. The wife was excited and pulled out her phone and began to try and get it set up to take a photo.  She told her husband she wanted to show the kids. Who would not want to capture the moment?

While she was fiddling with the camera settings a text came through.  She sat down at the table next to mine, facing me, not the ocean, and began a text conversation with whoever was on the other end of the data signal. 

The husband began to scan the horizon and got distracted by how many people were down at the beach and on the end of the pier.  He began making observations to his wife about these things, but she was blocking him out, typing something on her phone.

Just then two whales breached the surface of the water and slid back under the surface.

They did not see it.

Several minutes passed by and one of the whales came up for air and the husband pointed it out to his wife.  She casually glanced up from her phone, made a comment about it would not have been a good photo, and went back to typing.

The next time the whales breached the surface of the water I thought about drawing it to their attention, because they were once again distracted, but I decided not to.  I thought I would wait to see how long it would take before they put away the distractions, readied the phone for a photo, and simply waited.

Multiple times the whales either broke the surface of the water or breached, but the couple never saw them.  They would often catch a glimpse of the churning water left in the whales wake as it dipped below the surface, but not once did they share in the joy of seeing the complete cycle of the whales emerge from the deep, push towards the heavens and then recede back to where they came from.

I sat there thinking about the tension between how excited these two were to see whales and capture a photo for the kids and the fact they were unwilling or unable to be still and silent long enough to allow themselves to discover the dance which was taking place in front of them. 

 As I thought about this a thought occurred to me. I think when it comes to our desire to see and experience God, many of us find ourselves caught in the same tension as this couple.  We want to see, but we are so distracted that we cannot sit still and watch long enough to be able to allow ourselves to see what He is doing right in front of us.  How much we must miss by being distracted by what is on the periphery or busying ourselves because we cannot stand to wait.

I don’t know about you, but I do not desire to live like this.  I want to have my eyes wide open to see what God is doing.  I want to see it, be awed by it, engage in it and find the same kind of joy I experience while watching those whales. 

To take this posture is to simply see each moment as having the capacity to reveal something about who God is and what he is doing.  It is choosing to live in the present moment, recognizing this moment is the only point in time where we can actually have an experience of God.  It is having the faith that he is at work and if I can discipline myself to lay aside my efforts to make something happen and refuse to engage in the  distractions which take my focus of what I am experiencing in the present, I will see. It is being willing  to trust that God is at work, even if it is under the surface, and to be expectant there will be moments where we will see what He is doing break out above the water line.

It is this expectancy which teaches us to be silent and still, to learn to wait and watch, and to pull away from the distractions and simply be present.  I encourage you to pick a moment today and simply be present in it.  Lay aside the distraction, don’t do anything and simply watch.  Ask the questions: Where do I see God here?  What is he doing?  If you are patient, if you are willing to be silent and still,  I have a feeling you will be able to see.

Because this couple did not see what they had hoped for, they left after a few minutes.  While they left disappointed, I had sat there once again experiencing the wonder of whales dancing in the ocean before me. The only difference between me and them was the posture we chose to take.

Be still know…Psalm 46:10

"He Has Holes In His Hands!"

I don’t know what you do when you are trying to drift off to sleep or find yourself awakened in the middle of the night.  I have found if I am not careful my mind can run to all sorts of places.  It can run backwards and try to relive the past. It can project forward and try to structure the future.  Both movements can lead to worry.  And I have found worry is generally not very helpful in drifting off to sleep or slipping back into a peaceful slumber.

The first chapter in the book of Psalms calls the man who meditates on God’s Word, day and night, blessed.  The author of Psalm 119 declares in verse 148, “My eyes stay open through the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promises.” It may have been written by David, because he echoes the thought in Psalm 63 when he cries out, “On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night.”  This seems to me to be a much better use of the time than reliving the past or worrying about the future, so it is where I endeavor to turn my heart when I find myself awake when I would much rather be sleeping.

A couple of nights ago, I was sleeping in a strange bed, in another state, in the wrong time zone.  Needless to say, I was having trouble drifting off to sleep so I turned my attention to God and what the Scriptures reveal about Him.  After a few minutes I landed on the topic of Heaven and chose to settle there.

To be honest, for as much hope as we put into heaven and for as big as I imagine it to be, the Bible doesn’t say as much as you might expect about the subject.  It does tell us there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, and everything will be made new (Revelation 21:4-8).  It says there will be no more curse, night or need for the sun.  God’s radiance will be enough light for us all (Revelation 22:3-7). No one will ever hunger or thirst (Revelation 7:13-17).  Scripture tells us that Christ will have prepared a place for us and that he will be seated at the right hand of the father (John 14:2-4, Colossians 3:1-7).  There will be angels singing, rivers flowing and one of my favorite things, a tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month (I like trees, Revelation 22:2).

These realities are much better to meditate on than the things I might be tempted to be worried about. Though the images we are given in scripture form a pretty impressive picture, in truth it is but a sketch at best.  

I kind of think of it like a package which has been wrapped and set under the Christmas tree. You can judge its size, weight and the sound it makes when you shake it, but you really cannot give an exact description of what is inside.  You must know, I have a long history of wanting to know what was in the package (that is an entirely different blog). Because I like to figure what is inside and I lay there in the bed thinking about heaven, meditating on the lines scripture has sketched out for us, and just holding these things in my mind to see what God might want to reveal.

As I did, my attention turned from Heaven as the place to the idea of what it would be like to meet Jesus there.  I had to think about it for awhile.  Which Jesus would I meet?  Would it be the Jesus who was seen at the transfiguration, clothed in brilliant white, shining like the sun? (Matthew 17:1)  Would it be the Jesus of Revelation 19 who is mounted on a white horse, His head covered with crowns, clothed with a robe dipped in blood with the words King of Kings and Lord of Lords written upon it?  Would it be Jesus sitting on the throne surrounded by angels singing Holy, Holy, Holy?  I gazed upon each of these images in my imagination and held them there for a moment, but none of them seemed to be the one on which I should fix my heart upon.

I had laid there for a few moments thinking about these things when another image of Jesus came to me.  It was the image of Jesus when he appeared to Thomas (John 20:24-29).  There he stood, compassion on his face, and his arms extended with his palms turned up. When I saw him in my mind all I can remember thinking was, “He has holes in His hands.”   

This shouldn’t have surprised me; I have read the stories of His appearing to the disciples many times. I knew Thomas touched His wounds and believed, so I knew they were there. It is just that when I read the Scriptures speaking of heaven being a place where there is no more pain, no more sorrow, where everything will be made new, I imagined Jesus’ hands having been made whole, perfect, without any scars.

The surprising thought "he had holes in his hands" made me stop and ponder why when all things had been renewed and restored, would he still carry the scars from these wounds?  It also made me wonder if we too would carry with us into eternity any marks from our suffering, and if so why?

I thought about how Jesus was wounded.  I imagined the nail pressed against his skin just before the hammer blow drove it through His flesh.  I imagined Him screaming out in pain as the spike pinned his hand to the cross. I thought about what it would have felt like to have the crossbar slowly lifted up the post, the weight of His body slowly pulling his tissue and bone tight against the iron pins. It was one of the most painful forms of execution and he endured it.  He endured it because He trusted His Father was doing something far greater than the pain he was experiencing.  He trusted to the point of death.

Then I thought about what it must have been like for Him to experience resurrection, to find life where there had been death.  There have been moments in life where I have had to trust, points at which I have had to believe, wait, and see what the outcome would be. In times like this, when the crucial moment passes, and I discover that my trust has not been ill placed, joy rushes in.  I imagine you would have to multiply that feeling by a million or more to capture what Jesus must have felt. The critical moment having passed, the victory over sin and death having been won, He knew full well His trust in the Father had been well placed.  There must have been joy upon joy upon joy!

I thought about how different those holes in His hands must have looked to Jesus then.  Whereas, His wounds had been marks of rejection and evidence of His is adversary’s best effort to kill and destroy, they were now proof that His Father had not abandoned Him. Looking at them, understanding what these wounds had accomplished, Jesus knew His Father was trustworthy, powerful and present.  They were reminders of His Father’s grace, mercy and love, and His willingness to set aside His desire to do the Father’s will.  They told of the lengths to which love will go to rescue, redeem and restore all thing. They were blemishes on His flesh for sure, harsh wounds which spoke of pain and suffering, but they were also beautiful. Jesus was afflicted but not crushed, and because of this fact, the holes in His hands now speak a better word, one of victory, life and freedom. 

I wonder if it will not be the same with the wounds we experience.  While their cause may be horrifically painful and leave permanent marks upon us, if they drive us to turn to the Father in trust, if they enable us to experience His presence and power in ways which are unimaginable with them, if they cause us to know in our deep His mercy, grace and love, might we not find ourselves seeing them as beautiful?  And because they are not simply reminders of the wounding we experienced, but the One we encountered, might we not want to enter into eternity bearing their marks, not to remind us of the pain, but as a testimony to the power of the resurrected life and as an opportunity give glory and honor and praise to the One who heals? 

Meditating on that image, I drifted off to sleep.

Waiting to Walk

I love to walk. I started walking as a way to exercise, but it did not take long before it became much more than a physical activity. The act of walking provides the space where I can meditate on Scripture and turn my heart towards God in prayer.   The cadence of the steps I take have become a rhythm for my soul. Because of this reality walking has become a very sacred practice to me and that is why I love it.

Given this fact, you can imagine how disappointing it is that I cannot currently walk as I normally would.  It started several months ago when I began experiencing pain in my heal.  I self diagnosed it as plantar fasciitis, because when I typed in the symptoms into a search engine that is what came out..  I also explained what it felt like to several friends and told them what I thought it was.  They nodded their head in agreement.  Eventually, I explained what I was feeling to a doctor and they confirmed my diagnoses.  

The internet and my friends have given me ideas on how to care for my injury.  I was instructed to massage my foot with a tennis ball.  If that did not do the trick someone suggested freezing a water bottle and rolling my foot on this as a way to apply cold to the areas.  There were also suggestions regarding stretching, wearing a night brace, and for inserts for my shoes.  Wanting to get back to my normal rhythm of walking, I put all these into practice.

When I saw the doctor I explained how I was treating this inflammation and she simply said, “You are doing the right stuff. Keep it up.”  When I asked how long it would take to heal, the doctor told me months.  This is not what I wanted to hear so I have kept seeking input in order to find the magic cure.

Last night I was at a party and discovered one of the guests works for an orthopedic firm. Now, she was not a doctor, but she works very closely with one so I asked her if she knew of any secret to speed up the healing.  The answer was no. 

She actually knew quite a bit about what I was experiencing, how it is treated and how long it generally takes to heal.  Simply put, she knew enough to be very certain, beyond what I was already doing; you simply cannot speed up the healing process.  As hard as it is to accept, the fact of the matter is there is no secret.  It simply takes time.

This left me with only one option, to wait.  I don’t like waiting.  I want to see results now, but the reality is for broken things to heal it takes time.  For the kind of transformation I desire to take place in the tissue of my foot I will have to wait.

Today, I was reminded how much waiting is present in Scripture. Abraham waited for a son.  Moses tended sheep for 40 years while he waited. The people of Israel waited to be delivered from bondage in Egypt.  They waited again in the dessert. The palmist cried out on numerous occasions, “How long oh Lord!” The people of God waited for a Messiah.  Jesus went into the dessert for 40 days.  The disciples waited for the resurrection and for the day of Pentecost.  It seems waiting is necessary for transformation whether it be physical or spiritual, and most of us do not like to wait.

Our culture, technology and our impatience have all worked together to produce a society where we do as little waiting as absolutely necessary.  After all, waiting feels like a waste of time. It feels like we are doing nothing.  When we are waiting it feels like we are not making any progress and it grates us the wrong way.  We stubbornly respond by looking for ways to get around it, at least I do.

Waiting, however, is not standing still.  While I rest my foot and wait to walk it is actually healing, even if I cannot sense it in a moment, a day or even a week of days. 

If we were to carefully go back through the stories in Scripture where people were forced to wait, I think we would discover there was actually much going on. It was in the waiting they were discovering the truth about themselves, the reality that God can be trusted, and they were being prepared for what was to come.  All very important ares of growth, which simple cannot be rushed.

We learn from their seasons of waiting something of the reality of its necessity for healing and growth.  We also learn from their moments of weakness and refusal to wait what a mess it can make.  I don’t know about you, but I would rather opt for healing and growth than a big mess any day.

Where are you waiting in your life?  How are you responding to being in this place?  What are you discovering about yourself, and your ability to trust God?  What are you being prepared for?  These are far different kinds of questions to ask than "How long will the wait be?" or "When will I be able to move on?"

When we are invited into a season of waiting we must decide if the space between now and when the waiting is over will be filled with frustration born from our unwillingness to enter the waiting, or will we receive it as an opportunity to trust that something very significant is taking place, even if we cannot perceive it in the moment.

Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him! – Isaiah 30:18

Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. – Psalm 27:14

The Gift of a Limp

This week I had the opportunity to meet with a mentor I have been walking with for the past three years.  When I first started getting together with her she was attached to a university.  She has since graduated and now resides in a rest home. While she has retired from most of her responsibilities she is still willing to get together and for that I am grateful.

Normally we meet once a month, but when I started calling a few weeks ago to set up our next appointment I was unable to track her down.  I was a bit worried.  You can imagine how happy I was to hear her voice when she finally called me back to set up an appointment.  She sounded good; I was relieved and was excited to get together. 

The last time we met was just before my book came out and I promised to bring her a copy the next time I saw her.  With book in hand I entered the building excited to see her face.  I expected to find her in the lobby as usual, but she was not there.  The receptionist offered to call her room and let her know I had arrived.  There was no answer, so I took a seat and waited.

Several minutes later I heard the sound of a walker making its way down the hall.  I was surprised to find my mentor was the one who was piloting it.  She had never had need to use one before.  I stood, walked over to her and made a comment about the shinny ride she was sporting.  She chuckled and said it wasn’t quite like a new car, but it was helpful.

When we finally settled at a table on the patio, she told me she had experienced a series of falls and found herself in the hospital for several weeks.  The doctors were trying to determine what was causing her dizziness.  While they were not able to verify the cause of her condition, she was given this beautiful burgundy walker as a parting gift. 

With that she dropped the subject and turned our focus to the book.  She ran her hands over the cover as if she was savoring the moment before she picked it up.  Then she opened the cover and turned a few pages until she reached the Table of Contents. She began to read each title, pausing on the ones which peaked her interest as if she was savoring the sound of it. She would then give me a look which said, “I can’t wait to read that one.”  I took pleasure in watching how delighted she seemed to be to be holding The Good Way.

She began asking me questions about the book and how present the Camino is in my current life.  Our conversation weaved between the story which is told in the book and what is happening presently in life.  At one point I began to share with her an insight I had been thinking about which I did not include in my telling of the story in the book. 

I shared how I had twisted my ankle with six days left to walk.  I told her how the timing of the injury seemed to be in alignment with the unfolding story of my life’s journey.  This was something my wife had pointed out to me when it happened.  I was able to finish the Camino, but it was with a limp.  In some ways it made the final days of walking even sweeter. Walking with a limp was a gift when there had been a real possibility of not walking at all.   

I shared that I have been wondering if this might not also mirror my life’s journey.  While I will walk the path ahead of me, I wondered if from here on out it will always be with a limp.

This brought to mind Jacob and the limp he carried with him for the rest of his life. Somehow, the wrenching of Jacob’s hip as he struggled with the man with whom he had wrestled with all night long was tied to the blessing he would receive from the same individual.  I told my mentor what I was thinking and shared I do not naturally think of a limp as a gift, but maybe it is.

She turned and placed her hand on her walker and said, “Maybe I should call my walker God because I have to wrestle with it?” I laughed, looked around, and then offered, “You had better be careful about who hears you refer to your walker as God or you might have bigger issues.”  She laughed.  I then said, “But I see what you mean, it reminds you of your dependence on Him.”  She agreed and then offered so much more, “It also steadies, supports and allows me to maintain my balance.”  Our limps allows us to discover more than the fact we are dependent, they allow us to experience the One who steadies, supports and brings balance.

Maybe you do not have a need for a walker, but chances are you have a limp of some kind.  While you may have found it discouraging at times, my prayer would be that it would be the lens through which you would discover how near and powerful God is.  Without need we cannot experience the one who provides.  Without circumstances which rock our world we will not discover the presence of the one who calms the seas. Without woundedness we will not be amazed by the one who heals.

In the light of the One who does all these things, our limps become less of an affliction and more of blessings.  They no longer cut off our life, but become the wellspring from which it flows.  They become a constant reminder of the fact we walk in the presence of the one who is able to be our firm foundation, hold us securely and restore our equilibrium.

Sitting on the patio, staring at my mentor's walker, thinking about these things, I could see it as truly beautiful.

You Brood of Vipers!

“You snakes, you brood of vipers.” Addressing someone in such a manner does not feel like the best way to win friends and influence people. It seems more likely to drive a wedge between people and draw battle lines in a conflict.  And yet, Jesus had no problem speaking such seemingly harsh words.  In fact, in one chapter of scripture, Matthew 23, Jesus not only calls the teachers of the law and the Pharisees snakes he also calls them hypocrites, children of hell, blind guides, fools, and whitewash tombs. Ouch!

We have all had moments when we were tempted to address someone like this.  Thankfully, most of the time we manage to refrain.  What keeps us from speaking such harsh words may be the fear of how the other person might respond or because we have no desire to escalate the conflict, but I think for most of us we simply believe speaking words like this to someone would be unkind at best and unloving at worst?  A loving and kind person would never say such things to someone else. Right?

Where does that leave us with Jesus?  Do we just chalk His words up to the fact the religious leaders were so bad that they justified Jesus’ comments.  Was it acceptable for Jesus to be unkind to them because of the burden they placed upon the people.  Was He justified in being unloving to these men who seemed to be misguided, and seemingly operating out of mixed motives, when it came to their life long devotion to serving God and His people.

Part of what makes a good story is the conflict between good and evil, the clash between the good guys and the bad guys.  In the Gospels Jesus and his followers are definitely the good guys, and the religious leaders seem to be the bad guys.  Reading Jesus words from this point of view makes what He said seem quite justified. 

I can just imagine the crowd which was listening to this exchange cheering as each phrase rolled off of Jesus' tongue.  “Way to strike another blow at the bad guys Jesus!”  I can imagine them feeling like I did as I watched the final scene in Cinderella Man as James Braddock unleash a flurry of blows upon his evil opponent Max Baer.  I was so drawn into the emotion of the moment I began throwing punches in the dark movie theater, buffeting the air in hopes it would somehow strength Braddock to finish the fight, and triumph over his opponent.  Is this what Jesus was seeking to stir in the crowd as he pummeled his opponents with his words?

It is hard for us to consider anything else, especially given our love for these kinds of stories, (Cinderella Man is one of my favorite movies) but I have been thinking about this perspective and the fact we want to split everything and everyone in to good and bad.  Given this point of view Jesus’ seemingly unkind and unloving words not only feel justified, but right. Is that how we should really see it?

I not sure, but one thing I do know, Jesus is that He is the embodiment of love.  Scripture tells us that God is love. It is not simply a quality He displays.  It is who He is.  Scripture also tells us Jesus is Emmanuel, which means God with us.  Love is not something Jesus exhibits.  Jesus is love Let that sink in for just a moment.

Jesus is love when He is healing people.  He is love when He shares people sorrows.  He is love when He speaks words of life.  He is love when He touches the unclean.  He is love when He engages and embraces the outcast. He is love when He eats with sinners and tax collectors.  He is love when He washes His disciples’ feet.  He is love when He gives up His life for us, and I have to believe, because He is the incarnation of love, He is also love when He speaks what we hear as harsh word to the teachers of the law and the Pharisees.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think we should read them in the text as touchy-feely phrases which should make those who they are directed to feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  They are indeed rebukes.  I am sure they cut the religious leaders to the core, but I do not believe Jesus spoke them in order  to injure.  He was not seeking to kill and destroy. That is not why He came.  He came to impart life, life to the full.  Given this fact, what if His words were not meant to wound, but to heal.  What if any cutting they did was not intended to harm, but to remove the very thing which was destroying the opportunity for the teachers of the law and Pharisees to experience the life they not only were intended, but desired in the deep place of their heart, to live?

If this was the case, I think we would see these harsh words in an entirely different light.  Proverbs 27:6 says, “Faithful are the wounds of a friend.” Could it be that Jesus was being a faithful friend, even to these religious leaders?  Rather than pummeling an opponent, could He have been  inviting them to discover life?

What Jesus said about the religious leaders was true, and it was hard to hear for sure, but could it also have been spoken in love. In our culture we have such an aversion to speaking words which are both hard and true.  We think if a person speaks words which cut someone to the core they must be unkind, and  unloving, What if, however, it was just the opposite? What if speaking the hard truth was actually a very loving act?  What if the words spoken actually pointed to the the way of healing?  If we recognized them as such we would probably embrace the speaker as a faithful friend rather than dismissing what they have said.

Thinking about all of this has changed the way I read Matthew 23.  I no longer envision it as a prize fight and my guy, the good guy, wins.  I see it as a glimpse into a surgical ward, where the one who speaks such words does not find joy in the blows He delivers, but rather utters them in the hopes they will bring about healing.  It is truth which opens our hearts to healing and sets us free.  This seems especially true when the words are hard to hear.

In Acts 6:10, after Jesus has shown us the fullness of his love and has returned to the Father it says this, “So the word of God spread. The number of disciples in Jerusalem increased rapidly, and a large number of priests (many of whom were Pharisees and teachers of the law) became obedient to the faith.”  Isn't it surprising so many of those who were choosing to follow Jesus were the very same people to whom Jesus has spoken so harshly.

I cannot help but wonder how many of these priests might have been listening when Jesus spoke the words in Matthew 23.  If they were there to hear him utter those words, I imagine they were quite painful to hear.  Even so, I also wonder if they were also the words which planted the seeds which would later give birth to belief. Given their faith, I wonder if later those religious leaders, looking back on words Jesus had spoken, considered them far more loving than harsh.

From their new vantage point, Jesus' words must now have appeared to be words of life, motivated by love, and spoken as an invitation to freedom. Knowing who Jesus is and looking squarely at the one who is the personification of love, I cannot imagine them being anything else.