I would have raised an eyebrow, too, if my children came home from school telling me that their classes had been to a local house of worship for activities, especially if that place's faith tradition had a reputation of doing things like burning the holy book of my faith. So I was glad when the women, clad in headscarves as a way of showing respect to God, came in with their daughters' classes.
They stayed with their daughters' groups throughout the event as we taught peacemaking skills and better ways to get along with one another as we share this planet.
As it happened, that day's staff also included many nursing students from a nearby university who were earning hours in community engagement. By their dress, it was clear to all that they were of the Jewish tradition.
So there, in a the balcony of a little church in an overlooked inner-city neighborhood, practicing Christians, Muslims, and Jews came together for a couple of hours to teach their kids how to live more at peace with one another.
I don't think what happened in the balcony of the church that day happened too many other places on the planet that year. For a few minutes at least, long histories of swords, guns, bombs, and bloodshed were replaced with crayons, jigsaw puzzles, puppets, and laughter as our mutual faith-filled hope for a better world was shared together by teaching kids the ways of peace.
So I have to wonder what other seemingly obscure places peace might be being birthed for a new generation. I shouldn't be surprised, really, that hope for the world might start in such an odd place. After all, I worship a God whose incarnation began in a stable in a small town in Judea.
Thank you, Lord, for letting us witness You in ways we could not have imagined.
Showing posts with label Peace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Peace. Show all posts
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Chalk
The first warm and sunny Sunday after a cold bleak winter called us to have our kids activities outdoors. With hope in their hearts and chalk in their hands they tumbled out into the fresh air to decorate the sidewalk with the bright colors of spring.
The kids were already at work when I stepped out the front door. They took turns striking poses and tracing each other as they lay on the concrete.
Within minutes, the kids proclaimed that they were finished. I looked on horrified to see the unadorned chalk outlines of a dozen children lining the sidewalk of the church. Some police tape would have made the scene complete.
They were puzzled as to why my face was contorted and why I didn't think they were finished. Not wanting to point out that it looked like the remnants of a massacre, I made a declaration.
"LOOK at these children on the sidewalk. NONE of them are wearing any CLOTHES! I don't allow naked children in front of this church so put some clothes on them right now!"
For a moment they were shocked. Then embarrassment kicked in as they took the many colors of chalk and created the latest fashions within the outlines. They added some jewelry and other essential bling before going inside to wash their hands. The faces, both on the sidewalk and on the kids themselves, carried smiles.
When I've come out of the bleak winter seasons in my soul there's often little more than what feels like a chalk outline of myself left. And the start of a period of new growth can look more like a crime scene than a glorious new season.
But as I find my robes of righteousness, don my helmet of salvation, buckle my belt of truth, walk around in my shoes of peace, and add the essential bling of a polished shield of faith, I move from a remnant of the past season to joy-filled life in Him.
Because when Spring arrives in the soul again, it's time to get out and revel in the fresh Air.
Lord, you are the restorer of my soul.
The kids were already at work when I stepped out the front door. They took turns striking poses and tracing each other as they lay on the concrete.
Within minutes, the kids proclaimed that they were finished. I looked on horrified to see the unadorned chalk outlines of a dozen children lining the sidewalk of the church. Some police tape would have made the scene complete.
They were puzzled as to why my face was contorted and why I didn't think they were finished. Not wanting to point out that it looked like the remnants of a massacre, I made a declaration.
"LOOK at these children on the sidewalk. NONE of them are wearing any CLOTHES! I don't allow naked children in front of this church so put some clothes on them right now!"
For a moment they were shocked. Then embarrassment kicked in as they took the many colors of chalk and created the latest fashions within the outlines. They added some jewelry and other essential bling before going inside to wash their hands. The faces, both on the sidewalk and on the kids themselves, carried smiles.
When I've come out of the bleak winter seasons in my soul there's often little more than what feels like a chalk outline of myself left. And the start of a period of new growth can look more like a crime scene than a glorious new season.
But as I find my robes of righteousness, don my helmet of salvation, buckle my belt of truth, walk around in my shoes of peace, and add the essential bling of a polished shield of faith, I move from a remnant of the past season to joy-filled life in Him.
Because when Spring arrives in the soul again, it's time to get out and revel in the fresh Air.
Lord, you are the restorer of my soul.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Not
When I first heard the call to step out on the streets in ministry God and I had a lot of conversations about it.
One of us was calm. The other one was me.
I remember one of the conversations quite distinctly. In it, I panic-strickenly listed all the things I was afraid of. I had come up with an exhaustive list that I found quite impressive.
It wasn't so much what He said in His typically brief reply but the way He said it.
Fear NOT.
It was the same reply given so many times in the scriptures. But this time it was different.
In my mind I've always translated that statement into "Do not be afraid." That may be accurate from the Hebrew and Greek, but getting me to dismiss my fears didn't seem to be His goal.
Wrapped up in those two words was a new translation which sounded more like this:
Fear NOT stepping out.
Fear NOT heeding the call.
Fear NOT going places that scare you.
Fear NOT doing this.
And it wasn't about eternal salvation or worldly punishment or somehow losing out on God's love; that is way outside the nature of God and would have just reflected even more of my personal insecurities.
Instead it was more a call to recognizing that the safe, clean, predictable, stable life I'd built was, in reality, a much scarier place than the full, deep, rich, abundant land that He's promised.
He never discounted my impressive list of fears. In fact, as the conversation wound down I felt like if had I not recognized the very real fears it would have been a bigger problem than my listing them for Him.
The earth-sized fears I could see were real. The heaven-sized Fear NOT provided a counterbalance.
And strangely, in that tension between fear and Fear NOT there is peace. It seems to me counterintuitive, but there it is ---- that peace that passes understanding.
Yes, in our conversations One was calm. By the end, the other was moving that way.
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, lest we miss Thy kingdom's goal.
One of us was calm. The other one was me.
I remember one of the conversations quite distinctly. In it, I panic-strickenly listed all the things I was afraid of. I had come up with an exhaustive list that I found quite impressive.
It wasn't so much what He said in His typically brief reply but the way He said it.
Fear NOT.
It was the same reply given so many times in the scriptures. But this time it was different.
In my mind I've always translated that statement into "Do not be afraid." That may be accurate from the Hebrew and Greek, but getting me to dismiss my fears didn't seem to be His goal.
Wrapped up in those two words was a new translation which sounded more like this:
Fear NOT stepping out.
Fear NOT heeding the call.
Fear NOT going places that scare you.
Fear NOT doing this.
And it wasn't about eternal salvation or worldly punishment or somehow losing out on God's love; that is way outside the nature of God and would have just reflected even more of my personal insecurities.
Instead it was more a call to recognizing that the safe, clean, predictable, stable life I'd built was, in reality, a much scarier place than the full, deep, rich, abundant land that He's promised.
He never discounted my impressive list of fears. In fact, as the conversation wound down I felt like if had I not recognized the very real fears it would have been a bigger problem than my listing them for Him.
The earth-sized fears I could see were real. The heaven-sized Fear NOT provided a counterbalance.
And strangely, in that tension between fear and Fear NOT there is peace. It seems to me counterintuitive, but there it is ---- that peace that passes understanding.
Yes, in our conversations One was calm. By the end, the other was moving that way.
Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, lest we miss Thy kingdom's goal.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Boards
Fresh new boards covered the windows and doors of the house. The old boards had been there a long time.
I remember when we were looking for a place to live in the neighborhood seeing this house. It was boarded up then but still appeared in good condition. It's on the quietest street in our neighborhood. The houses on either side of it are in excellent condition. It's the only house on that block that I've ever seen boarded up. The owner was not interested in selling it back then and must not be wanting to now, either.
So there are fresh boards on the house. Though they're better than the old boards which had begun to rot, the house is still a board-up.
It's hard for me to understand why someone would keep a house boarded up for so long. They could live in it or rent it or sell it. Certainly there's something useful they could do with it rather than just reboard the windows and doors every couple of decades.
Then again, I do understand a bit about keeping things boarded up.
I have places inside me that I don't want to deal with that I've kept boarded up for years. There are dark corners full of grime and pain and resentment and things I've completely forgotten about that I don't want to see. Even when I get a chance to go in and try to clean things out I prefer to instead put new boards up and move along to more pleasant areas.
And I want God to respect the boards, too. Yes, I know that the Spirit will bring new life to all areas I let Him in. But I've had Him work on so much of me that I know His remodeling projects can take a long time and are often painful. Though I am absolutely sure the results of His presence will bring life, I just don't want to deal with the process.
So guarding the boarded up doors becomes as important as the boards themselves.
There are no signs from the city on the house. Yet, for all practical purposes, even with the new boards this house is condemned. John 3:18 reminds us that I don't need to have someone spray paint the word "condemned" on the parts of my life where I lack trust in the Savior; that message is self-inflicted.
I fantasize that God would work like they do on the television show "Extreme Makeover - Home Edition." I could invite Him in, He'd send me to Disney World for a week, and then I could come back with all my old junk removed and a new life in front of me.
But He want me to pick up a hammer, too, and take ownership of the process.
When I've done so in the past -- when I've taken down the boards and let Him remodel other areas of my life -- I've received nothing less than an abundance of joy and peace as a result.
So somewhere deep inside me there's a hope that I'll work up the courage and strength to remove the boards on those portions of my life that I haven't yet given completely to Him. Then, by His grace, we'll enter into the next episode of "Extreme Makeover" in my life.
Let your mercy and grace flow, Lord. Let your light shine in my darkness and let me live in the fullness of Your presence.
I remember when we were looking for a place to live in the neighborhood seeing this house. It was boarded up then but still appeared in good condition. It's on the quietest street in our neighborhood. The houses on either side of it are in excellent condition. It's the only house on that block that I've ever seen boarded up. The owner was not interested in selling it back then and must not be wanting to now, either.
So there are fresh boards on the house. Though they're better than the old boards which had begun to rot, the house is still a board-up.
It's hard for me to understand why someone would keep a house boarded up for so long. They could live in it or rent it or sell it. Certainly there's something useful they could do with it rather than just reboard the windows and doors every couple of decades.
Then again, I do understand a bit about keeping things boarded up.
I have places inside me that I don't want to deal with that I've kept boarded up for years. There are dark corners full of grime and pain and resentment and things I've completely forgotten about that I don't want to see. Even when I get a chance to go in and try to clean things out I prefer to instead put new boards up and move along to more pleasant areas.
And I want God to respect the boards, too. Yes, I know that the Spirit will bring new life to all areas I let Him in. But I've had Him work on so much of me that I know His remodeling projects can take a long time and are often painful. Though I am absolutely sure the results of His presence will bring life, I just don't want to deal with the process.
So guarding the boarded up doors becomes as important as the boards themselves.
There are no signs from the city on the house. Yet, for all practical purposes, even with the new boards this house is condemned. John 3:18 reminds us that I don't need to have someone spray paint the word "condemned" on the parts of my life where I lack trust in the Savior; that message is self-inflicted.
I fantasize that God would work like they do on the television show "Extreme Makeover - Home Edition." I could invite Him in, He'd send me to Disney World for a week, and then I could come back with all my old junk removed and a new life in front of me.
But He want me to pick up a hammer, too, and take ownership of the process.
When I've done so in the past -- when I've taken down the boards and let Him remodel other areas of my life -- I've received nothing less than an abundance of joy and peace as a result.
So somewhere deep inside me there's a hope that I'll work up the courage and strength to remove the boards on those portions of my life that I haven't yet given completely to Him. Then, by His grace, we'll enter into the next episode of "Extreme Makeover" in my life.
Let your mercy and grace flow, Lord. Let your light shine in my darkness and let me live in the fullness of Your presence.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Chirp
12 inches. That's how far we live from our neighbors. The common walls that separate our houses are 12 inches thick in our 'hood.
Most of the time it's not so bad. 12 inches of brick muffles a decent percent of the noise and I only know what the neighbors are having for dinner if it's especially spicy.
Of course, things are different in the summertime. Many of us don't have air conditioning so our windows are wide open all the time. The noise of the streets and nearby houses echo through each others homes.
So it was a pleasant surprise when everything was quiet as I got in bed that night. The fresh air of the open windows brought delight to my soul. The thought of a few moments of peace and calm before drifting off to sleep was quite a treat.
Just as I got comfortable in bed I heard it. You know the sound. It's that little electronic chirp that smoke detectors put out when they're low on battery power.
chirp.
40 seconds of silence.
chirp.
Trying to wish it away.
chirp.
Get up and check all the smoke alarms in the house.
silence.
Go back to bed.
chirp.
Yes, one of my neighbors' smoke detectors needed a new battery. I don't know if they weren't home or if they were really sound sleepers or if they just didn't care. But the one night that the street wasn't filled with noise from cars and radios and people . . .
chirp.
Jesus didn't answer my prayers the way I had hoped that night. By 3:00 a.m. I was requesting the hammer of God to come smash that thing and send it to its glory.
chirp.
Yes, sometimes 12 inches is a little too close, especially when the windows are open. In the darkness with both my and my neighbors' windows open it was clear that something needed to be done.
Sometimes there are annoying little chirps in my soul at night, too. Maybe I'm not paying attention or am sound asleep or am so disconnected with my own inner self that I don't notice or don't care about the chirping. Maybe I do notice but feel helpless in trying to make it stop.
Thankfully, God calls us to both times of gathering in close proximity and times of rest. When I get together with people of faith for a time of rest from regular responsibilities, like at a retreat or camp, I have the chance to be physically closer than normal. If things go well, I'm likely to open up the windows of my soul to let a fresh Wind in.
And it's then that I find it easier to hear the low battery chirp in me. It's in the quiet time together that I can most know where I need to let go of old problems and let new Power come in. But if I'm still unable to hear it, hopefully a nearby friend with his soul's window open will hear the chirp from my low batteries and will administer a recharge.
Of course, sometimes in those settings I learn that my batteries are holding sufficient voltage. That's when I can sometimes hear the low-battery chirp in a neighbor's inner life. Then it's time for me to help them to gain a new charge.
For as we care for ourselves and for one another this way, we quiet the chirps and let a Peace that passes understanding come in. Then we can truly rest in Him and disperse to our daily lives renewed.
Revive me, O Lord, and use me to bring restoration to others.
Most of the time it's not so bad. 12 inches of brick muffles a decent percent of the noise and I only know what the neighbors are having for dinner if it's especially spicy.
Of course, things are different in the summertime. Many of us don't have air conditioning so our windows are wide open all the time. The noise of the streets and nearby houses echo through each others homes.
So it was a pleasant surprise when everything was quiet as I got in bed that night. The fresh air of the open windows brought delight to my soul. The thought of a few moments of peace and calm before drifting off to sleep was quite a treat.
Just as I got comfortable in bed I heard it. You know the sound. It's that little electronic chirp that smoke detectors put out when they're low on battery power.
chirp.
40 seconds of silence.
chirp.
Trying to wish it away.
chirp.
Get up and check all the smoke alarms in the house.
silence.
Go back to bed.
chirp.
Yes, one of my neighbors' smoke detectors needed a new battery. I don't know if they weren't home or if they were really sound sleepers or if they just didn't care. But the one night that the street wasn't filled with noise from cars and radios and people . . .
chirp.
Jesus didn't answer my prayers the way I had hoped that night. By 3:00 a.m. I was requesting the hammer of God to come smash that thing and send it to its glory.
chirp.
Yes, sometimes 12 inches is a little too close, especially when the windows are open. In the darkness with both my and my neighbors' windows open it was clear that something needed to be done.
Sometimes there are annoying little chirps in my soul at night, too. Maybe I'm not paying attention or am sound asleep or am so disconnected with my own inner self that I don't notice or don't care about the chirping. Maybe I do notice but feel helpless in trying to make it stop.
Thankfully, God calls us to both times of gathering in close proximity and times of rest. When I get together with people of faith for a time of rest from regular responsibilities, like at a retreat or camp, I have the chance to be physically closer than normal. If things go well, I'm likely to open up the windows of my soul to let a fresh Wind in.
And it's then that I find it easier to hear the low battery chirp in me. It's in the quiet time together that I can most know where I need to let go of old problems and let new Power come in. But if I'm still unable to hear it, hopefully a nearby friend with his soul's window open will hear the chirp from my low batteries and will administer a recharge.
Of course, sometimes in those settings I learn that my batteries are holding sufficient voltage. That's when I can sometimes hear the low-battery chirp in a neighbor's inner life. Then it's time for me to help them to gain a new charge.
For as we care for ourselves and for one another this way, we quiet the chirps and let a Peace that passes understanding come in. Then we can truly rest in Him and disperse to our daily lives renewed.
Revive me, O Lord, and use me to bring restoration to others.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Peacemobile
The Peacemobile came to town! We hosted it at the church as the children from the nearby elementary school came in, two or three classes at a time, to learn about how they can have personal peace, interpersonal peace, cross-cultural peace, and environmental peace.
One of the kids in a group I took through the activity centers lived next door to me. She was completely engaged in each of the activities and took a leadership role in the group. In debriefing at the end of each activity she had a solid concept of peace and some skills in building it.
That evening I got to listen through our far-from-soundproof walls as the adult in her home screamed profanity at her and then hear her painful cries as her body was struck repeatedly throughout the evening.
Did 45 minutes with some activities at the church make her life any better? I don't know. I do know, though, that despite what happened later in the day, she experienced 45 minutes of peace that morning.
You and I meet a lot of people each day. We have no ideas what battles they're in the midst of fighting for their physical, psychological, emotional, and spiritual survival. If we really knew what was happening in the lives our our cashier, coworker, supervisor, teacher, waiter, or neighbor who lives across the street we would probably be overwhelmed.
This only amplifies the need for me to be a Peacemobile in my world. A lot of days I am more like a tank crashing through every thing and every one. But if I can lower the guns and get along with the world around me, reach across cultural barriers, try to get along with others, and respect myself enough to actually live this way I might, might, might, might, might provide someone a few moments of respite from the battles that surround them.
Jesus said, "Come to me and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11:28b) Can we be that place of rest for those we encounter in a war-torn world?
Lord, make me a channel of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, your pardon Lord;
and where there's doubt, true faith in you;
O Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen. ---- St. Francis
One of the kids in a group I took through the activity centers lived next door to me. She was completely engaged in each of the activities and took a leadership role in the group. In debriefing at the end of each activity she had a solid concept of peace and some skills in building it.
That evening I got to listen through our far-from-soundproof walls as the adult in her home screamed profanity at her and then hear her painful cries as her body was struck repeatedly throughout the evening.
Did 45 minutes with some activities at the church make her life any better? I don't know. I do know, though, that despite what happened later in the day, she experienced 45 minutes of peace that morning.
You and I meet a lot of people each day. We have no ideas what battles they're in the midst of fighting for their physical, psychological, emotional, and spiritual survival. If we really knew what was happening in the lives our our cashier, coworker, supervisor, teacher, waiter, or neighbor who lives across the street we would probably be overwhelmed.
This only amplifies the need for me to be a Peacemobile in my world. A lot of days I am more like a tank crashing through every thing and every one. But if I can lower the guns and get along with the world around me, reach across cultural barriers, try to get along with others, and respect myself enough to actually live this way I might, might, might, might, might provide someone a few moments of respite from the battles that surround them.
Jesus said, "Come to me and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11:28b) Can we be that place of rest for those we encounter in a war-torn world?
Lord, make me a channel of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, your pardon Lord;
and where there's doubt, true faith in you;
O Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen. ---- St. Francis
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Why
The President of the church surprised us with a visit. We knew he was in the area for another event and we learned at the last minute he would be able to stop by for our kids activities on Sunday afternoon and for our evening services later that day.
He arrived just as the kids gathered. After we sang our songs and offered prayer, we turned the lesson time over to the President so he could talk with the kids. After asking them some questions about who they were, he asked, "Why do you come here?"
And I panicked.
My immediate silent prayer was, "Good Lord don't let them answer 'Because we get candy bars after the lesson.'"
Hands shot up immediately and he called on the boy I thought most likely to give a full description of the types of candy he preferred. The boy answered, "To be in the presence of God." The next kid answered, "To learn things from the Bible." The one after that said, "So I can practice how God wants me to live each day." The fourth said, "Because it's peaceful here."
I have to admit that I often go to church just for the candy bars. I like being around people I know, singing the songs I like, hearing from my favorite scripture passages, and sharing in testimonies about how God has been nice to those who have gathered.
I want to be more able to answer as the kids did:
-"To be in the presence of God" knowing that His presence is wonderful yet carries conviction that loves me so much it scares me enough to correct what isn't right and to do things I don't want to do.
-"To learn things from the Bible" knowing that the pages I don't often look to are filled issues and concepts and Truth that are hard for me to understand & embrace and that if I look more closely at my favorite passages I realize that I've only scratched the surface of their meaning.
-"So I can practice how God wants me to live each day" knowing that it means that I need to go deep into the messiness of other people's lives and let other people go deep into my own mess so that together we can practice patients, kindness, mercy, grace, compassion, faithfulness, endurance, acceptance, correction, love.
-"Because it's peaceful here" knowing that peace is rooted first in the choice God makes to live at peace with us despite ourselves and second in our call to share that peace with others despite themselves and ourselves.
Candy bars are delicious. But a diet heavy in them, no matter how tasty, leaves us flabby and starved. The kids said they came to church for the meat and potatoes of the Gospel along with the Fruit of the Spirit. May I be able to honestly answer something better than "because of the candy bars" the next time someone asks me why I go to church.
Lord, nourish me at your banquet. Guide my cravings to the spiritual foods that will help me grow strong in You.
He arrived just as the kids gathered. After we sang our songs and offered prayer, we turned the lesson time over to the President so he could talk with the kids. After asking them some questions about who they were, he asked, "Why do you come here?"
And I panicked.
My immediate silent prayer was, "Good Lord don't let them answer 'Because we get candy bars after the lesson.'"
Hands shot up immediately and he called on the boy I thought most likely to give a full description of the types of candy he preferred. The boy answered, "To be in the presence of God." The next kid answered, "To learn things from the Bible." The one after that said, "So I can practice how God wants me to live each day." The fourth said, "Because it's peaceful here."
I have to admit that I often go to church just for the candy bars. I like being around people I know, singing the songs I like, hearing from my favorite scripture passages, and sharing in testimonies about how God has been nice to those who have gathered.
I want to be more able to answer as the kids did:
-"To be in the presence of God" knowing that His presence is wonderful yet carries conviction that loves me so much it scares me enough to correct what isn't right and to do things I don't want to do.
-"To learn things from the Bible" knowing that the pages I don't often look to are filled issues and concepts and Truth that are hard for me to understand & embrace and that if I look more closely at my favorite passages I realize that I've only scratched the surface of their meaning.
-"So I can practice how God wants me to live each day" knowing that it means that I need to go deep into the messiness of other people's lives and let other people go deep into my own mess so that together we can practice patients, kindness, mercy, grace, compassion, faithfulness, endurance, acceptance, correction, love.
-"Because it's peaceful here" knowing that peace is rooted first in the choice God makes to live at peace with us despite ourselves and second in our call to share that peace with others despite themselves and ourselves.
Candy bars are delicious. But a diet heavy in them, no matter how tasty, leaves us flabby and starved. The kids said they came to church for the meat and potatoes of the Gospel along with the Fruit of the Spirit. May I be able to honestly answer something better than "because of the candy bars" the next time someone asks me why I go to church.
Lord, nourish me at your banquet. Guide my cravings to the spiritual foods that will help me grow strong in You.
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