Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-See

See

Matthew 20.29-34

Jesus Heals Two Blind Men

29 As they were leaving Jericho, a large crowd followed him. 30There were two blind men sitting by the roadside. When they heard that Jesus was passing by, they shouted, ‘Lord, have mercy on us, Son of David!’ 31The crowd sternly ordered them to be quiet; but they shouted even more loudly, ‘Have mercy on us, Lord, Son of David!’ 32Jesus stood still and called them, saying, ‘What do you want me to do for you?’ 33They said to him, ‘Lord, let our eyes be opened.’ 34Moved with compassion, Jesus touched their eyes. Immediately they regained their sight and followed him.

This past week, 14 of us traveled to Madison, Wisconsin for the purpose of engaging in community service. This particular passage was read one morning before we embarked on our service projects

The capitol building in Madison.

(either sorting canned goods for a food bank, or creating art at a pottery and glass studio to give residents at a local nursing home).

We sat together, back to back, focused on our collective breath, feeling our ribs rise and fall as we inhaled, then exhaled. Our eyes closed as the story of Jesus healing two people was read aloud, as we listened for words and phrases that jumped out at us. This is what stuck out:

“passing by…”

“shouted...”

“Moved with compassion…”

“stood still…”

“touched…”

“followed him…”

Take a minute to read it again…

…

This story that involves a lots of ‘doing’ on the part of Jesus. Notice all these verbs:

Left—Jesus had to leave Jericho in order for this miracle to happen.

Stop—despite being on the move, Jesus took time to stop and notice those who were being pushed to the side by the crowds

Ask—despite the crowd’s attempt to silence these two, Jesus engaged them with questions, and wanted to know their story

Loved—in a very human moment, Jesus responds with compassion, and the one who came to serve and not to serve, further exemplifies how to care for the least of these

Touched—as if listening to these outcasts wasn’t radical enough, Jesus moves towards them and touches them, giving them what they asked

One student on the trip commented that Jesus seems to move a lot; that, despite the adamancy of the crowd, Jesus was able to hear the cries of the blind men and focused entirely on them. [He/she] observed that one of the most notable characteristics of this story is how much Jesus actually touched people.

Jesus touched people, meeting them where they were. That is the good news, isn’t it? Throughout his ministry, Jesus wanted people to be themselves, and responded to the cries, needs, and realities of those around him in kind. Ultimately, the gospel of Christ is concern for the whole person. When confronted with the needs of others, Jesus didn’t check their prerequisites, or mandate “good behavior” before their needs could be met. Instead, Jesus fed and healed people, meeting them where they were, even when the crowd said “don’t”. Jesus teaches us this: that good news to a hungry person is not only bread, and to the blind person is not only sight, but being seen themselves as valuable human beings.

It is one thing to intellectually teach the foundation of our faith; it is quite another to allow ourselves (and in this case, our children) to live out this faith and express it through gifts and acts of service. What 14 of us did in Madison was mimic the actions of Christ in the context of this passage: bringing the good news of God’s beloved community by engaging people in a way that showed the hope and beauty that exists in a world. In this way, we can all, together, here and now, enjoy that renewal of creation, which is God’s ultimate purpose.

And so, like the blind men who followed Jesus after being healed, those who served and those who were served became peers, jointly sharing in the ongoing transformation of God’s reign in the world.

And that was truly a sight to see.

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Smoke

The sun was setting, the day’s final light slipping through the thick foliage surrounding me. By my side was a sleeping Golden Retriever, Silas, worn out from a busy day of hiking and exploring. At my feet embers radiated heat, burning orange as fresh wood caught fire. The day’s choir of birds and squirrels completed their act, and after a brief intermission of utter silence, the crickets and frogs sang us the rest of the way.

As the smoke from the fire ascended to the evening sky, descending through the leaves were white fluffs from a cotton wood tree. Gracefully gliding, the weightless seeds turned ablaze as they reflected the evening light, becoming little balls of fire. Soon, their glows transformed into the flickering spectacle of a forest filled with lightning bugs. The dense elm trees and maple trees began to illumine like a pine tree in December, a light shining in the darkness.

Just as it rose, the sun set, and then escaped behind the western horizon. Without light, nighttime consumed the campground. What was once seen became hidden. A familiar path became foreign. Isn’t it funny how different things look and feel and seem in the dark? Silas’ head remained up, ears back, his breathing a sort of quiet, but heavy, as he listened to the trees come alive. The chill the storm ushered in settled between the leaves, resting on the already expended branches.

The flames danced, swayed, and flickered with the breeze. In the stirring of the night, the woods and pastures appear joyous in their abundance now in a season of warmth and much rain. The lake is beyond its banks, overflowing into dry creek beds and walking paths, spreading its mirrors out upon the fields of the valley floor. It has become like God’s love or sorrow, including at last all that had been left out. All the while, my face, heart, my being was warmed by the fire’s light. The solitude soon ushered me to sleep. Finally I found rest.

I read somewhere once that the interior life should consist of moments of relaxation, freedom, and ‘browsing.’ Some do this via literature or music. We must remember though our time is limited. We need to be by ourselves. When we are by ourselves, we soon get tired of our folly. In that tent, under those stars, having finally submitted to the rhythms of creation, I learned that my folly did not fit in with the eminent sanity of trees, birds, water, or the sky.

The silence of the woods forced me to make a decision, which the tensions and artificialities of society may help me evade forever. I, you, we, must get out every once in a while. I, you, we, need a good garden, access to the woods, or to the sea. I, you, we, need to run to the mountains and to the hills. It is at these places, between the twinkling of the stars and the chorus of crickets, where we will find the silence that asks us the most important question:  do you want to be yourself or don’t you?

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection-Sometimes

It is that time of the year again, when churches come alive with exotic jungle scenes and other far out places. Those spaces where adults meet to discuss the church’s “important items” are now occupied by the youngest among us. Their wide eyes and unbridled spirits fill the steeples with vibrant laughter and hopeful imagination.

I have fond memories of attending Vacation Bible School myself. It was the time of the summer where I got to go to church at night and sing songs at my own pace. More importantly, it was at Vacation Bible School where the foundation of my faith was laid, as I sung songs about God’s love for me.

Though technology has changed since my time in VBS, the message is the same:

Jesus loves you.

This is a scene from Weird Animals - brought to you and 

your children by the Lincoln Neighborhood 

VBS churches July 7-11, 2014. 

Come learn about weird creatures and God's Love!

All week, we’ve led the children in an adventure through the realities of life. Our time together has been spent exploring how sometimes we don’t fit in; how sometimes we are noticeably different; and how sometimes, we just don’t know why things happen. But what we do know is this: that we are all created exactly as God wanted us to be; that God sees us as beautiful, especially because of our differences; and that though we may not understand why things happen, God’s love remains constant.

It is easy to write our children off as the ‘future of the church.’ After all, they aren’t writing checks or contributing financially to the latest church campaign. After spending a week at VBS, I’m reminded again that our children are as much of the movers and shakers of the church as we adults are.

We have much to learn from our children.

I learn from their enthusiastic proclamation of the gospel: that even when we feel left out, Jesus loves you.

I learn from children who, though formerly strangers, lock hands and sing that age old song we all sang when we were little:  Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.

I learn from their gallant statements, as they boldly tell me that though they feel weird and strange at times, they know in their hearts that God is with them.

I learn from their focus, not on politics or hot button issues, but on learning each others names and favorite animals.

Above all, the greatest lesson I’ve learned from the children at Vacation Bible School this week is accepting one simple truth: that God loves me just as I am.

Nothing else.

Nothing more.

This makes me think of my favorite quote from Trappist monk Thomas Merton who once said, “To say that I am made in the image of God is to say that love is the reason for my existence, for God is love. Love is my true identity. Selflessness is my true self. Love is my true character. Love is my name.” 

Indeed, Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.

But, Jesus too, loves 50+ children who wiggle and squirm, giggle and worship, sing and dance, all because they know that God loves them.

Through Stained Glass: A Mid-Week Reflection--Start

Start

Before Thursday night turns to Friday morning.

Before the dawn’s early light.

Before the parade begins.

Before the cool weather becomes hot again.

Before the peace of the evening is disturbed by booms and cracks.

Before the night sky is illuminated by fire works.

Before the guests arrive.

Before the sparklers begin to sparkle.

   

Before the songs are sung.

Before stories are told.

Before the freedom of a three-day weekend starts…

Take time to stop.

Take time to be.

Take time to go slow.

Take time to rest.

Take time to think.

Take time to sit.

Take time to listen.

Take time to reflect.

Take time to pray.

Take time to explore.

Take time for peace.

Before the weekend begins, take time to listen to your life. When we are most quiet and most ourselves, God’s grace is clear, and then we see nothing else under the sun. A question to consider over the next few days is, what else is there for us but to be tranquil and at peace in the all-enchanting wonder of God’s mercy to us? 

Life does not have to be dull. 

Love can make it beautiful and fill it with wonder.

Sometimes, we need to take time before it can take hold…

The Peace of Wild Things

BY WENDELL BERRY

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell Berry, "The Peace of Wild Things" from The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry. Copyright © 1998.