Lord, I Want to Love You Like My Cat Loves Me

“One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple.”

               - Psalm 27:4

My cat loves me.

Actually, he’s not my cat. He is our daughter’s cat. But, alas, she has gone to the far ends of the earth (Montana) to study for her Master’s in Social Work, and she was unable to take the cat with her. So the cat – Ray – temporarily belongs to Carol and me.

But I’m the one that Ray loves.

I’m not bragging about it. It just happens that Ray chose me as the one he looks to for provision, and friendship, and comfort. 

He greets me when I wake up in the morning, quickly settling on my lap as I try to read my Bible and drink my coffee. 

When I take a nap on the couch, he tries to get as close to my face as he can.

Sometimes when I am getting ready for work, Ray follows me around the house; and if I stop in the middle of the room, he will reach up and ask me to hold him. 

It’s pretty cute, really. And endearing.

It makes me wonder, though: Do I look to God with the same passion and devotion that my cat has for me? Do I seek to rest in God’s presence with my whole being? Is it the longing of my heart to be held in the hands of the One who provides for me and cares for me eternally?

The psalmist – probably King David – only asks for one thing: “to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of [his] life.” Of all the things that David could’ve asked for – wealth, happiness, power… – he simply asked to dwell in God’s presence. 

Actually, that’s been the chief desire of the human heart since the third chapter of Genesis, when the first humans hid from God in shame. We’ve wanted nothing more than to be restored to fellowship with God. As Augustine said, “My heart was restless until it found its rest in thee, O God.”

And so nowadays when Ray crawls up and imposes himself onto my lap, it makes me say a quick prayer: “Lord, I want to love you with the same passion and devotion that Ray loves me.”

One thing I ask of the Lord, this one thing I seek…

What’s your one thing?

Keep the "Memorial" in Memorial Day

Grave marker in the Clinton City Cemetery (North Carolina),
honoring one of the more than a million soldiers who have
given the life in the service of this nation.

"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his faithful ones..."- Psalm 116:15

May 26, 2019.

Today in church I asked some people to stand for recognition and honor.

I don’t do this very often, but for occasions that call for us to honor the men and women who put their lives on the line for the security and freedom of this nation, I feel compelled to extend gratitude for the tremendous sacrifices they have made. And so on occasions like the Sunday closest to Veterans Day, I will ask that all people who have served in the armed services to stand, so that we can thank them. I do the same on the Sunday nearest July 4, because our independence as a nation has come only at the cost of countless human lives.

But today was different, because on Memorial Day the honorees aren’t present. They have died – in battle, in training exercises, in accidents while in uniform. The people we honor on Memorial Day are those who have died while still in uniform.

They paid the ultimate price for our freedom.

And so I asked for people to stand who have known soldiers who have died while in active service. Someone needs to stand, so that we can remember. And so we can give thanks for those who have made the ultimate sacrifice.

Jesus said, “No greater love is there than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15:13) Then Jesus demonstrated his love by dying for us.

By choosing to wear the uniform, the men and women of the armed services implicitly make their commitment to that teaching of Jesus – they are willing to lay down their lives for you and me, and for our freedom. And some – many, in fact – have fulfilled the greatest love completely.

Memorial Day is a holiday. It’s a day of rest, of relaxation by the beach, or in the mountains, or at the park. It’s a day of family gatherings, cookouts, and parties.

But please, also remember that this day is possible because of those who can’t join us.

And remember that for every woman or man who has died in the service of our nation, there is a family for whom this particular day is both a source of pain as well as pride. If you know a Gold Star family, reach out to them and let them know you are thinking of them. If you know a soldier, thank him or her.

The Psalmist says, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18) Often the most tangible way that the Lord draws near to the brokenhearted is through people like you and me. If you have the opportunity, let yourself be used in this way.

Enjoy Memorial Day. Those who have paid the ultimate price in order for you to have this holiday would want nothing more.

But also make sure you pause in humility and gratitude, and remember.

Out of the Ashes

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.”

- Jesus (John 15:1-2)

As a way of decompressing after Holy Week and Easter (which happens to be a pretty busy and hectic time for pastors, just sayin’), Carol and I took a few days off to go hike in the mountains of North Carolina. We’re trying to explore lots of new places in this state we have called home for about 15 months. This was our first significant foray westward. 

We visited a couple of state parks (Pilot Mountain and Hanging Rock), where we took in some breathtaking views and had some breathtaking hikes (The latter were, literally, breathtaking).

On one of our hikes, the trail twisted onward and upward (remember: breathtaking). But the entire mountainside was charred from a recent fire. Everywhere we looked, leaves were brown, and the burned-out remains of trees and bushes littered the landscape. I later learned that there had been a “prescribed burn” on that mountain earlier in the month.

As it turns out, “prescribed burns,” while seemingly wreaking havoc, have a very beneficial purpose. They allow for fuel (i.e., deadwood and trash shrubs) to be burned in a controlled manner, rather than let a random lightning strike or careless camper start something that can’t be controlled. According to the U.S. Forest Service, some of the benefits of prescribed fire include reducing the stress of overcrowding, improving the habitat for threatened or endangered species, recycling nutrients back into the soil, promoting the germination of some species of trees, and encouraging the growth of wildflowers and other plants.

In other words, let fire clear out an area, and in the process it aids in the repopulation of that same area, in a healthy way.

Alas, I stray from my main point. Back to the hike. 

There were a few places along the trail where I saw new growth arising from beneath the ashes (which confirms the explanation of the USFS above). The fresh new-growth green of spring, contrasting against the black remnants of the fire, makes for a dramatic image.

As I thought about the new growth arising from the ashes, a biblical image came to mind for me. I thought of Jesus’ teaching about the vine and the branches, in the 15^thchapter of the Gospel According to John. Jesus talks about how unfruitful branches are cut off the vine, in order to allow the vine to prosper; furthermore, even healthy branches are pruned (i.e., cut back, often dramatically), so that they can be even more fruitful. It made me think that a prescribed burn is a kind of large-scale pruning-by-fire.

The thing is, Jesus wasn’t really talking about a grapevine, any more than I’m really talking about prescribed burns. What is relevant here, is that pruning or clearing out are ways that God shapes us and helps us to bear the kind of fruit we are designed to bear. There are seasons in our lives when we experience loss. Some of those times (not all of them, mind you) we might consider as God's way of pruning us, to help us get rid of things that hinder our own fruitfulness as disciples of Christ. Whether the image is one of cutting or burning, the relevant truth is that there are things that need to be removed from us if we’re going to bear fruit.

Weeds choke out the good plants; so we need to get rid of the weeds. What are the weeds that choke out the gospel in our lives? Pruning by any method is not pain-free. Cutting hurts. Burning away hurts. Pulling off hurts. But it's gotta be done if we're going to be fruitful disciples.

Jesus said, “Thus you will know them by their fruits.”(Matthew 7:20) Paul says, “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23) If what Jesus says is true (and I know for a fact that it is), then I want to bear the kind of fruit that Paul describes. That's the kind of tree I want to be.

The process of bearing fruit may not be easy, because some form of pruning is required in every season. And usually it hurts.

But the result is beautiful. 

=====

Lord, help me to remove from my heart those things that inhibit the growth of the gospel of your love. Lord, I want to bear fruit – good fruit. Amen.

Don't Forget the Cross

“For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God… We proclaim Christ crucified.”

- 1 Corinthians 1:18, 23a

This spring, as I have captured some of the beauty of the dogwoods, azaleas, wisteria, and the like, I noticed that crosses kept showing up in my pictures.

O.k., I’ll admit it – the crosses didn’t just “show up” in my pictures; I wanted to frame them into the shots.

There’s something about the cross that keeps drawing my eye… and my heart.

The thing is, we might not notice the cross if we’re not looking for it. It stands front and center in our churches, but where does it stand for you?

Jesus never took his eyes off the cross. It was his purpose. It was the reason he came from heaven to earth in the first place.

We want to shy away from the cross. In modern times, we write it off as a relic of uncivilized times, a device of inhumane torture. The way of the cross doesn’t fit today’s notion of redemption – how can such a thing really save the human race? We want to shy away from the cross.

Don’t. Don’t look the other way. Don’t miss the cross.

“See, from his head, his hands, his feet,

sorrow and love flow mingled down.

Did e’er such love and sorrow meet,

or thorns compose so rich a crown?”¹

It is the cross that tells both the “what” and the “why” of Jesus’ death. On the cross, Jesus took upon himself the death we deserve. Jesus suffered total abandonment by his Father, so we wouldn’t have to. John R. W. Stott once noted, “Our sins sent Christ to hell. He tasted the torment of a soul estranged from God. Bearing our sins, he died our death. He endured instead of us the penalty of separation from God which our sins deserved.”² That’s the “what” of Jesus’ death that the cross explains – our sins sent him there.

But it’s not just our sin which we witness on the cross. It’s also love. “See… sorrow and love flow mingled down...” Jesus took our sins upon himself, because he loves us. He loves the world. Every. one. of. us. He did for us that which we are unable to do for ourselves, because he loves us.

Don’t miss the cross. Don’t jump straight ahead to Easter without Good Friday.

Because the cross – and what Jesus accomplished on it – is the reason that we call that Friday “Good.”

There’s something about the cross. Don’t miss the cross.

1Isaac Watts, “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross”

2John R.W. Stott, Basic Christianity(Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996 edition), p. 93.

Taking a Water Break

“O God, you are my God, and I long for you. My whole being desires you; like a dry, worn-out, and waterless land, my soul is thirsty for you.” (Psalm 63:1, Good News Bible)

The other day I was putting together activities and a lesson for our church youth group. Since it was the Sunday before Lent, I decided to do some things that help drive home the meaning of Lent. So, of course, I made them play a game in which they had to dab their noses with vaseline and then take cotton balls – on their nose – to the other side of the room, without using their hands.

Sounds like Lent to me.

Well, at least it sounds like youth ministry.

At the end of the evening, we gathered around a table for a devotion. There were baskets of rocks, rice, and sponges on the table, and a bowl of water. We talked about how our hearts feel right now, as we enter the season of Lent. Maybe our hearts are excited about God, and they want to soak up as much of God as they can (sponge). Maybe our hearts are weighed down with troubles or worries (rock). Maybe our hearts are spiritually dry, parched (rice). I encouraged the youth to pick up one or more of the items on the table that reflect what’s going on in their hearts, and put it/them in the bowl of water. The water, of course, represented Jesus – the spring of living water.

During that little devotional exercise, I realized something: I am thirsty. Thirsty for God. As the deer longs for streams of water, so does my soul long for God, the living God (Psalm 42:1). My soul is thirsty for God (Psalm 63:1).

It got me to thinking, what makes a person thirsty? I have some empirical (but definitely not scientifically-proven) ideas about what makes a person thirsty. Sometimes it’s exercise, or over-exertion. After I have exercised, or after I have put in a long day of manual labor, I’m thirsty. I feel like there’s not enough water to quench my thirst.

Sometimes we get thirsty from what we eat. Salty things make me thirsty. When I eat pizza or popcorn, I inevitably wake up in the middle of the night with cotton mouth, parched.

And then, there’s just not getting enough to drink. That will make you thirsty, every time.

So, what does this have to do with Lent? Well, for me, it means that I want to take the next 40 days (not including Sundays) to address this thirst I have discovered within me.

I want to take care not to take on more than is healthy to take on, at least not without making sure I address my thirst along the way. So I’m going to try (key word: TRY) to manage my time a little better.

I’m also going to adjust my spiritual diet. If eating certain foods make me thirsty, then on the spiritual side it just makes sense that I’m doing things that drain the life-giving water out of me. So I’m going to cut back on social media – Facebook and Instagram, to be precise. And I’m going to cut out my mindless evening TV time.

And in their place, I’m going to spend more time drinking in what is important – reading, studying, praying, taking walks, spending quality time with Carol.

All this to say, I’m not going to post 40 different things on this blog this year. While I love sharing my faith and photography, this year I need to make my Lenten journey a quiet, personal one.

I’m thirsty, so I’m going to use my Lenten observance to take a water break.

Shalom.

Lord, I Want to See

“Lord, I want to see...” (Luke 18:41)

The other day I just had to get outside and walk around. So I went to a nearby botanical garden, hopeful that there would be some winter flowers in bloom. At one point, I walked down the trail that goes along the edge of the Cape Fear River. It was an area of the botanical garden property that had been completely submerged in the aftermath of Hurricane Florence in September, 2018. Flood stage on the river is 35 feet. In September, the river crested at 61.4 feet, threatening the main area of the botanical garden. Everywhere along the trail I saw evidence of the flood – downed trees, debris that had washed up in the waters, muddy water marks on the trees way above me.

The trail was closed on one end, so I turned around and walked back the way I had come down. As I made my way back up, I noticed a beautiful carpet of new green growth coming from the saturated ground. I stopped to take a picture (because that’s what I do when I see something beautiful), and then continued the hike back to the main gardens. Later that day I posted several of my pictures on Facebook (again, because that’s what I do when I have captured something beautiful on my camera).

The next day I was reviewing the “Likes” I had gotten on my pictures (because – you guessed it – that’s what I do…), and I saw someone had “liked” the picture with the green growth. Now, from a photographer’s perspective, there really isn’t anything spectacular or notable about the picture – the lighting is not very good, and in general all the trees in the background make for a busy picture.

But when I was looking at this picture again, suddenly I saw something that I hadn’t seen before. I really don’t know why I hadn’t seen it – probably because I was in a hurry when I took the picture. But there it was, and now I can’t un-see it. It’s a cross, formed by a limb that was swept onto a dead tree.

It’s not a “perfect” cross, because the limb has an offshoot branch. But still, it is a cross. It is an unmistakable reminder of God’s goodness and love.

It got me to thinking: How many times every day do I fail to notice signs of God’s mercy and redemption? In my everyday busy-ness, am I so focused on getting from point A to point B, that I fail to see the beauty God gives me along the way?

In the Gospel According to Luke, a blind beggar calls out to Jesus. While some of the crowd with Jesus thinks the man is acting rudely and inappropriately, Jesus calls the blind man to him. “What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asks. The man replies very simply: “Lord, I want to see.” And then Jesus restores the sight of the blind man.

“Lord, I want to see.” What a beautiful prayer! Shouldn’t that petition be a regular part of our prayer repertoire? We know that blindness is not limited to a physical condition; indeed, all of us are blind to a myriad of things, either by choice or unintentionally.

I don’t want to miss the glory of God in the everyday things I encounter. Lord, I want to see.

I don’t want to fail to see the image of God in the person who comes to my office to talk about life. Lord, I want to see.

I don’t want to pass up an opportunity to help a person in need. Lord, I want to see.

Open my eyes, that I may see

glimpses of truth thou hast for me…

Open my eyes, illumine me, Spirit Divine!

Open the eyes of my heart, Lord.

I want to see you.

Let us pray:

Lord, I want to see. Amen.

Christ Is Risen!

Christ is risen!

Christ is risen, indeed!

Alleluia! Amen!