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!

Praying the Passion, Part 7 - "Father, Into Your Hands..."

...darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Jesus called out with a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." When he had said this, he breathed his last.- Luke 23:46

My Lenten discipline has been to write a prayer for each of the 40 days of Lent. The last seven prayers center on the seven last sayings of Jesus uttered from the cross. Today's prayer is based on the final words he spoke.

"Father, Into Your Hands I Commit My Spirit"

From the foot of the cross I can see you, my Lord. You are high and lifted up. And I can hear what you say. Every word.

Darkness has covered us.
Not because it is night, for it is only 3 o'clock.
Darkness has covered us,
  because the sins of the world have covered you.

You cry out,
  "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit."

In your voice, I don't hear defeat.
I don't hear disappointment.
I don't hear sadness.

In your voice I hear the sweet surrender of trust.
And the tenderness of love.

Your work is done. It is finished.
You came to do your Father's will.
And you have done it.
And now you surrender yourself, body and soul,
  into the hands of the One you trust and love.

"Father, into your hands I commit my spirit."

+ + + + + + +

Lord Jesus, into your hands I commit my spirit.

I have watched you on the cross.
I have seen your determination to forgive me,
  even me.
I have heard your promise of heaven,
  given without conditions.
I have received your gift of a new earthly family,
  the Church.
I have witnessed your experience of abandonment,
  which you went through because of me,
    but also for me.
I have felt the deep thirst of your soul,
  for it is my thirst as well.
I have heard you declare that it has been done,
  that you have done the will of your Father,
  and there is nothing left for you to do.
And I have watched as you entrust yourself
  into the hands of the One you love.

Lord Jesus, into your hands I commit my spirit.
How can I do otherwise?
Your love has captured me.
I give myself to you.

Into your hands I commit my spirit.

Praying the Passion, Part 6 - "It Is Finished"

Jesus said, "It is finished." With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.- John 19:30

My Lenten discipline has been to write a prayer for each of the 40 days of Lent. The last seven prayers center on the seven last sayings of Jesus uttered from the cross. This prayer is based on the sixth saying.

"It Is Finished"

Here I stand at the foot of the cross, my Lord.
I see you high and lifted up,
  as "sorrow and love flow mingled down"
and I hear what you say.
  Every word.

In words barely audible you speak:
  "It is finished."

I think to myself,
  "Yes, it is finished. Mercifully so, your suffering
          is at its end.
  Raise the white flag.
  Let death end it for you."

But that's not what you mean, is it?
  You're not surrendering in defeat;
    You're not capitulating to the darkness;
      You're not giving up.
That's not what "It is finished" means.
Not by a long shot.

No, "It is finished" are words of accomplishment,
  fulfillment,
    victory.
For when you breathe your last,
  you have completed what you have set out to do:

"For God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through Him."

That's why you came, my Lord: to save the world.
That's why you hang in agony on the cross: to save the world.
That's why you suffer abandonment by God:
     to save the world.

When you breathe your last,
  you have done what you set out to do.
Only then can you say, "It is finished."

Say it, my Lord.
Say it for me.
Say it for the world.

"It is finished."

Praying the Passion, Part 4 - "My God, My God, Why Have You Forsaken Me?"

At the sixth hour darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ..."My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"- Mark 15:33-34

Scenes from the total solar eclipse, August, 2017

My Lenten discipline has been to write a prayer for each of the 40 days of Lent. The last seven prayers center on the seven last sayings of Jesus uttered from the cross. Today's prayer is based on the fourth saying of Jesus from the cross.

"My God, My God, Why Have You Forsaken Me?"

From the foot of the cross I behold you, O Lord,
  high and lifted up.
And I can hear you. Every word you say.

There is a moment -- a long, three-hour moment --
  when the sun is hidden.
Darkness is the prevailing reality.

You cry out: 
"Eloi, eloi, lema sabachthani?"
"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

When I hear those words,
  darkness fills my heart,
  just as the darkness has covered the sun.

Since the day of your birth,
  you have walked with God.
     Completely.
     Perfectly.
     Unceasingly.

But now, God's back has been turned on you,
  God's face turned away from you,
    God's ears closed to your cries.

Why? Why has God forsaken you?

And then it strikes me. It pierces my heart:
On the cross, you are the Lamb of God,
  who takes away the sins of the world.
The only way you can take our sins away
  is to take them upon yourself.

God has forsaken you, because of me.
Because of my sins.
Because of the sins of the world.
Upon you, the sinless One, 
  the sins of the world have been placed.

You are God-forsaken, and it's our fault.

The truth of the realization breaks my heart.
Forgive me, Lord.

But, lo, another realization:
You are God-forsaken, so we don't have to be.
The penalty of our sin -- 
  separation from the Living God --
you are paying it at this very moment.
For us. For me.

Dear Lord, you suffered the ultimate agony
  so that I wouldn't have to suffer it myself.
I am the one who deserves to drink
  from the cup of abandonment;
I am the one who deserves
  to descend into hell.

But you have taken my place, out of love.
  Now I know what you meant when you said,

Greater love has no one than this,

to lay down one's life for one's friends.

Your cry of ultimate agony from the cross --
  it was because of me. And my heart aches.
Lord, have mercy. Forgive me.

Your cry of ultimate agony from the cross --
  it was for me. And I am full of gratitude. And love.
Lord, I thank you.

Praying the Passion, Part 5 - "I Thirst"

Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, "I am thirsty."- John 19:28

My Lenten discipline has been to write a prayer for each of the 40 days of Lent. The last seven prayers center on the seven last sayings of Jesus uttered from the cross. This prayer is based on his fifth saying from the cross.

"I Thirst"

From the foot of the cross, I behold you, Lord:
  high and lifted up.
And I hear what you say from the cross.
  Every word.

Almost inaudibly, the words flow 
  from your cracked, bloodied lips: "I thirst."

Thirst. 
It is the most primal longing a human experiences.
You have joined our struggle, Lord.
You have experienced the most basic need
  any of us will ever experience: thirst.
As you hang on the cross,
  there is no human agony foreign to you.

Thirst.
It speaks to more than our physical longing.
It speaks, even more vividly, perhaps,
  to the longing of our soul:

O God, you are my God, I seek you;  my soul thirsts for you,my flesh faints for you,  as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.

Forsaken by God,
  you thirst.
You are experiencing the condition that I deserve,
  in order to redeem me. From my own thirst.

But may I be so bold as to consider another thirst, Lord?
Can it be that on the cross 
  you not only experience human thirst for God,
but also, maybe, are you expressing a thirst
  that God has for us?
For you have told us of the father who scans the horizon
  as if thirsting after reconciliation with his lost son;
and you have told us of the shepherd who searches
     high and low
  in deep longing to find the one lost sheep.

Could it be, dear Lord, that your thirst
  is for us to turn to you?

Either way, your thirst draws me to you.
Your thirst arises from your love.
And it makes me thirst for you,
  and for the life only you can give.

And so I thirst, too. Because you thirst.