The past few days were unearned. I was a guest of people I care deeply about who own a magnificent three-story villa on a beautiful lake. When both they and my husband were called away by other obligations I had all three stories of luxury to myself to write, to meditate, to pray.
I didn’t own the villa. As a retiree there is no way I could afford a place like this. In fact, I could probably not afford to rent a place like this for even one night. It was a free gift. Other than cleaning up after myself and making sure the door was locked when I went out for a walk along the shore early in the morning I had no responsibilities toward its upkeep. My only obligation was to enjoy it.
Dusk on the Water
And I did. I sat in the hot tub on the roof garden and contemplated the stars. I sat on the bench beside the lake and absorbed the pink sunset flickering in the water. I helped myself to peaches freshly plucked from a tree. I slept in a bedroom almost the size of my house. I even came to appreciate the fact that in the interest of interpersonal connectivity the owner disconnected from the internet. It was just me and God in that villa by the lake.
I felt the Lord saying, “Thus is my grace. It’s a gift. You have done nothing to earn my love. You can’t earn my love. Just sit in my presence and let me love on you a little longer.”
Today, back home, with responsibilities and guests of my own to minister to, I am aware that every breath I take is a gift and I am determined to enjoy His continued presence, for He has promised to never leave me. He is here.
Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses,
so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
For the sake of Christ, then,
I am content with weaknesses,
insults,
hardships,
persecutions,
and calamities.
For when I am weak,
then I am strong.
(2 Corinthians 12:9,10)
“When I look at the clues that indicate the nature of Jesus – born in a barn, questionable parents, spotty ancestry, common name, misdirected announcement, unattractive looks, reared in a bad neighborhood, owning nothing, surrounding himself with unattractive co-workers, and dying a shameful death – I find his whole approach unable to fit into the methods that automatically come to mind when I think about “winning the world.” His whole approach could easily be described as nonthreatening or nonmanipulative. He seemed to lead with weakness in each step of life. He had nothing in the world and everything in God and the Spirit.”
Photo: The springs at the base of Mount Hermon, which are the source of one of the three streams that combine to form the Jordan River. In the time of Christ this area was known as Caesarea Philippi.
When Jesus arrived in the villages of Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples, “What are people saying about who the Son of Man is?”
They replied, “Some think he is John the Baptizer, some say Elijah, some Jeremiah or one of the other prophets.”
He pressed them, “And how about you? Who do you say I am?”
This song kept playing in my head all night and woke me in the morning.
One line stood out in particular: Thy precious blood shall never lose its power, ’til all the ransomed church of God be saved to sin no more.
In contrast to the on-line ugliness seen this past week in attacks directed at a well-known pastor/teacher and author whose son died tragically, I have seen the beauty of thousands of people coming together to pray for a man many of them have never met. I have seen leaders from other fellowships with differing doctrines lay down their right to be right and pray together toward the same purpose. I’ve seen folks from many varieties and styles of prayer and worship of Jesus Christ respond eagerly to prayer bulletins on social media.
I have seen people offer to care for our grandchildren, clean the house, buy groceries, help with paper work and banking, give massages, fix the tires, pick people up from the airport, host out-of-town family in their homes -and more. I have heard from people who have never said more than a one sentence prayer who say they have woken in the night with an urge to pray. I have never experienced such a practical out-pouring of love, but more than that I have never seen so many people moved to overcome differences, reconcile relationships and minister not only to our family, but to each other. It amazes me. I can honestly say, “Look how they love one another!”
I paced and wept and cried out for the life of our son-in-love at that moment when teary-eyed nurses invited immediate family for a brief visit before another surgery on “John.” We knew they did not hold out much hope for him. Strangely as I prayed and walked the halls the phrase that kept popping up, unbidden, in my mind was: “The deeds of the flesh must die.” I didn’t understand it then and I didn’t want to hear it. I realize now this trying time is not about punishment or God being angry with John. The Lord knew he would be okay. This is about a bigger picture.
John has required many blood and platelet transfusions; he has almost needed a fountain of donated blood to keep him going. As I watched another bag dripping life into him today, and with this song still in my head, I was struck by the symbolism.
Finally John is starting to gain consciousness and even make jokes with us, although it is difficult for him to communicate. He is still surrounded by machines and a room full of skilled care-givers who watch the numbers and tend his needs. He can do nothing for himself -not even breathe- but I think the Lord is using him even in his helpless state to teach us.
It is the blood of Christ freely shed for us that gives us life. It is the light of Christ’s love that reveals corruption in the body, the underlying dis-ease of lack of love that spreads like killer bacteria and keeps the church from being what God intended. It is the kind adjudication of God that filters out lies and shows us where we need to change and be renewed. It is the sharp sword of the Word of God that is able to excise and remove necrotic tissue without damaging the healthy tissue and it is Holy Spirit who breathes new life into us.
Christ is returning for a spotless bride. He is revealing and cleansing not because he intends judgmental condemnation, but because he loves us and wants us to be well.
For you were called to freedom, brothers. Only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for the flesh, but through love serve one another.
For the whole law is fulfilled in one word: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”
But if you bite and devour one another, watch out that you are not consumed by one another.
But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.
For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do.
But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under the law.
Now the works of the flesh are evident: sexual immorality, impurity, sensuality, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, divisions,envy, drunkenness, orgies, and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.
But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience,kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.
Grandma sang this song. About forty of us kids would be crammed into the Cumming’s basement rumpus room for Happy Hour Bible Club after school on Thursdays. We sat cross-legged beside the mountain of jackets and snowpants that threatened to avalanche on us. Snow-soaked socks flopped off the ends of our feet in the too hot after being too cold temperature quandary that was our norm. My Grandma stood beside her flannel story board and “did the actions” to this song:
Zacchaeus was a wee little man
And a wee little man was he
He climbed up into a sycamore tree
For the Lord he wanted to see
And as the Lord came passin’ by
He looked up into that tree
And He said, “Zacchaeus, you come down!
For I’m going to your house for tea
For I’m going to your house for tea.”
I know now the last line is usually “coming to your house today” but coming to your house for tea made perfect sense to me, because on days when Grandma wasn’t teaching Happy Hour Bible Club at four o’clock on Thursdays, tea was either happening at Mrs. Stuart’s house or Mrs. Page’s house or at her own house around a quilt stretched out on a frame in the living room.
Here’s the story as told in Luke 19 without Grandma’s creative embellishments (Zacchaeus quickly ran out and bought raisin bread and milk in her version):
Jesus entered Jericho and made his way through the town. There was a man there named Zacchaeus. He was the chief tax collector in the region, and he had become very rich. He tried to get a look at Jesus, but he was too short to see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree beside the road, for Jesus was going to pass that way.
When Jesus came by, he looked up at Zacchaeus and called him by name. “Zacchaeus!” he said. “Quick, come down! I must be a guest in your home today.”
Zacchaeus quickly climbed down and took Jesus to his house in great excitement and joy. But the people were displeased. “He has gone to be the guest of a notorious sinner,” they grumbled.
Meanwhile, Zacchaeus stood before the Lord and said, “I will give half my wealth to the poor, Lord, and if I have cheated people on their taxes, I will give them back four times as much!”
Jesus responded, “Salvation has come to this home today, for this man has shown himself to be a true son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and save those who are lost.”
Genuine encounters with Jesus are life-changing.
The story I heard was that tax collectors in Israel at the time were even less appreciated than tax collectors in our time. Apparently they not only collected money on behalf of highly resented foreign occupiers, but they had to “raise their own support” and frequently turned the screws to squeeze out a little more cash flow for themselves.
I used to think that Zacchaeus’ change of heart came after Jesus sat down with him at the kitchen table and gave him a good talking to, but the story in Luke says Zac made his announcement after Christ simply addressed him by name and announced he would be Zac’s guest. Jesus said he was seeking and saving the lost and that day was Zac’s day. I bet he went to Jericho specifically for that one man.
The eagerness of the tax man and his desire to see Jesus, the quick response of admitting fault, and changing his ways, tells me this man had a heart that was already softened.
May my heart be so prepared to change when Jesus calls my name.
I’m going to go buy some raisin bread and milk now.
The artist leading the workshop in the desert city looked at my paintings and asked, perhaps facetiously, “You use a lot of blue. Are you depressed?”
I looked around at the other participants’ work mostly done in earth tones –beiges, browns, greys –with occasional splashes of red and yellow. Desert colours.
“No,” I said, “Not anymore. I just come from a place that is mostly blue.”
When I arrived home in the Rocky Mountains of Canada a few months later, deep lavender blue skies, shifting azure-blue lakes, paler and paler layers of blue mountains and sparkling blue snow shadows seemed even bluer than the paintings.
Bluer than blue.
I come from a place that is mostly blue.
To some blue communicates serenity. To some blue communicates depression. I come from a place that was mostly depression.
A while ago I was told in a dream, “Look to the area of your greatest failure, for therein lies your greatest success.”
There was that night.
That night I bowed on a stage before a large audience jumping up to shout “Brava” and throw flowers. Most of them didn’t know that underneath a gorgeous costume I was balancing on one leg the whole time. I had broken the other one only a few days before.
Then there was that night.
That night, I cowered in a locked ward where a silhouetted person behind a flashlight peered in my room every fifteen minutes to make sure I was still alive.
That night on the stage, the night of “my greatest success,” was actually my greatest failure. That was the night when I identified myself as a strong-willed, disciplined overcomer. That’s when I was foolish enough to think that if I just worked hard enough I could earn love, respect, and adulation.
The night on the ward, the night of “my greatest failure,” was actually the night of my greatest success. That was the night when I admitted it took more courage to live than to die. I was fresh out of courage. That was the night when my tank hit empty, when I had no will power, no self-discipline, no hope. That was the night when grace pulled me deep down into those depths of blue and began to show me that freedom means nothing left to lose. Freedom means letting go of self-sufficiency, self-righteousness, and self-promotion. That was the night when Jesus Christ took me by the hand and lifted me up toward the light. Drowning in emptiness and being lifted up to a new life of hope was a kind of baptism.
It took a while to get on my feet. I had a lot of forgiving to do. Forgiving myself was the hardest test of wrestling pride, reputation, and the albatross of potential to the ground. I still have to remember to punch it in the beak regularly.
Blue means freedom, revelation, and serenity now. I understand better what Paul meant when he wrote:
Yet every advantage that I had gained I considered lost for Christ’s sake. Yes, and I look upon everything as loss compared with the overwhelming gain of knowing Jesus Christ my Lord. For his sake I did in actual fact suffer the loss of everything, but I considered it useless rubbish compared with being able to win Christ. For now my place is in him, and I am not dependent upon any of the self-achieved righteousness of the Law. God has given me that genuine righteousness which comes from faith in Christ. How changed are my ambitions! Now I long to know Christ and the power shown by his resurrection: now I long to share his sufferings, even to die as he died, so that I may perhaps attain as he did, the resurrection from the dead.
Yet, my brothers, I do not consider myself to have “arrived”, spiritually, nor do I consider myself already perfect. But I keep going on, grasping ever more firmly that purpose for which Christ grasped me. My brothers, I do not consider myself to have fully grasped it even now. But I do concentrate on this: I leave the past behind and with hands outstretched to whatever lies ahead I go straight for the goal—my reward the honour of being called by God in Christ.
(Philippians 3)
Only Someone who knows the plans He has for us has the courage it takes to show us how to die so that we might live.
Photo: Drop by any time
Charis: Subject to Change 