It is a maxim that will endure: To truly know the living God, this begets humility. -Miguel de Molinos
Purple
When God made the color purple, God was just showing off.
-Mae Jemison
Like many teenage girls, when I finally had a room of my own, I chose to decorate it in shades of purple. It fit the person in process that I was then. Purple takes the innocent sweetness of posie pink, the audacity of in-your-face magenta, the rage of raw red, the perfect peace of prairie lake blue, the hopeful ascension of sky blue and the deep reverence of mystical indigo and swirls them all around in an unsteady mix of hot and cold. If I look long enough, I can see the colours that make up purple dancing and spinning in a nervous partnership that leaves evidence they are never really fully committed to their roles. This is purple, the colour I chose for the first space I could call mine.
I may be a retired seventy-year old, but I’m not content to squeeze my accumulated years into a single conclusive expression. In my dreams I’m still a bewildered child, a wizened saint, a mischievous flirt, an introspective ponderer, an angry idealist, a conscientious servant, a lover of the unlovely, a reconciled plodder, and an every-which-way-at-once teen trying on each mood and personality in my cache before coming out of my room to run and catch the day. I wonder if, in ancient times, this may be why purple was a colour reserved for priests and royalty (aside from expense). Perhaps only those with the assumed freedom and time to appreciate the tenuous stability of paradox (and its influence on helpless bystanders) could wrap the heights of humility and the depths of pride around themselves in the ambivalent glory of purple and sally forth.
I too shall wear purple. It fits the person in process that I am now. I am, after all, with millions of others, part of a royal priesthood of believers. That’s qualification enough.
My thoughts at least, before I make the same to-do list for tomorrow as I made for today, prop my arthritic knee on my purple pillow, and turn off the light .
Response
“The trouble with really seeing and really hearing is that then we really have to do something about what we have seen and heard.” ~ Frederick Buechner
Sometimes, for some of us, a simple prayer of appreciation to the Creator of love and beauty for his goodness to us is as great a victory over self-centeredness as is sailing across the world to set a thousand captives free.
Seeing
But blessed are your eyes for they see, and your ears for they hear; for assuredly, I say to you that many prophets and righteous men desired to see what you see, and did not see it, and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it. -Jesus (Matthew 13: 16, 17 NKJV)
Many people see with their eyes. Some see with their hearts. Fewer take the time to turn, and paying attention, see and hear with the Spirit.
Transfiguration
The difference between shallow happiness and a deep, sustaining joy is sorrow. Happiness lives where sorrow is not. When sorrow arrives, happiness dies. It can’t stand pain. Joy, on the other hand, rises from sorrow and therefore can withstand all grief. Joy, by the grace of God, is the transfiguration of suffering into endurance, and of endurance into character, and of character into hope–and the hope that has become our joy does not (as happiness must for those who depend up on it) disappoint us.
-Walter Wangerin
Corporate Shame
This blog is in response to another person’s post, now deleted. The post made me stop and consider. It was about shameful behavior currently being exposed in a well-known ministry in the U.S.. “This should be strictly a private matter,” they said. This person felt strongly that reading any reports, even with solid evidence of ungodly choices, was participating in gossip and exploiting someone’s weaknesses and giving way to our own salacious desire for a titillating story. It was a type of abuse in itself. It can be. For many, it probably is. I want to agree entirely with the writer. I truly do. Maybe they are right, but maybe something else is happening here. Something bigger.
My reaction to this exposure is much the same as finding out a much-loved, seemingly strong, healthy family member was in the hospital, in a coma, and dying from necrotizing fasciitis. I DO NOT WANT TO SEE THIS! I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR THIS! OH, GOD, MAKE IT GO AWAY!
Our son-in-love and his wife were both in denial about how seriously ill he was. He delayed going to the emergency room at the hospital until the pain was agonizing. “Necrotizing” means dying. His leg was filled with dead and dying tissue -corruption- that was exposed by emergency surgery that left an open wound the length of his leg and buttocks. By that evening, he was in critical condition, in a coma, with multiple organ failure. Privately, the team of doctors gave him 0% chance of survival.
When thousands of people joined to pray for him, the Lord showed us that the church (including many denominations and expressions in North America) has also been in denial about harboring hidden corruption. This may not just be about the particular organization in that horrible article this week. So many are infected. Was there a less painful way to expose this, or is the Lord allowing it to shock us and shake us into waking up to the reality of the situation? Is this the stern, no-nonsense grace of a caring Father?
For decades, many vulnerable people have been sexually, emotionally, financially, and spiritually abused by those misusing power. Too many times we have looked away to spare them (and ourselves) embarrassment –and potential institutional chaos. This is no longer a private problem between a few people. My heart is broken for the woman involved, (and yes, I agree her behavior has been a lot like that of many victims of abuse and exploitation that I have known.) Perhaps God is serious about exposing what we don’t want to see because it’s time to stop closing our ears to the cries of people who have been used to bolster power-hungry egos.
This is a systemic problem. It’s OUR problem. It’s not just about the abuse; it’s about the cover-up.
In our own story, Abba asked us to pray for the state of the church in our country with the same desperate passion we felt as we prayed for our loved one. I don’t want to look at what has been exposed recently in people who I have admired and trusted. I am dismayed. I am shocked. I feel sick. But I can’t look away. Now the question is: how does the Lord want us to respond?
We don’t want to see this stuff exposed and published, especially where those who do not love Jesus can use it to mock us. This generation of the young, however, like the boy Samuel who watched Eli’s sons defile the tabernacle with vile behavior, see what’s going on. They know. They are staying away in droves.
We may not want to see it, but now we have, and it requires a response. It’s time to stop pretending that all is well. It’s time to cry out together with passion for a deep healing touch to the Body of Christ in North America.
Before the crisis in our family happened, our son-in-love told the Lord he was willing to do whatever it takes to serve Him, including laying down his life. He crashed on Palm Sunday. On Good Friday the family was brought in to say goodbye. Hundreds gathered at the hospital and in the church building to pray that day. On Easter morning, he briefly opened his eyes. On Pentecost Sunday, he walked into church without amputation, with 100% oxygen saturation, with the kidney function of a teenager, with a keen quick mind, and with the assurance that he was deeply loved. We saw a miracle.
Why did he and his family and friends, and eventually the thousands who followed the story on social media, go through that painful time? I believe it was training for such a time as this. We need to stop looking away, pretending this is not serious or not our problem. It’s time to get on our faces and cry out in our exposed corporate shame for deep cleansing, healing, repentance, and restoration.
Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy.
We saw a miracle once. Lord, do it again!










