Look at fear in the face and move forward! That's easy to chant or to sing in a crowd but most difficult to live day to day. Yesterday reminded by Beth Moore via simulcast that fear is secret killer and that it is often invisible with a tremendous power to paralyze. How this tune sings loudly in my head causing me to stand, cemented like stone.
Why haven't we taken the plunge? Why am I not able to speak up? How can the people ignore such? Why do so many feel hopeless? As I worshipped yesterday, in the comfort of a well air conditioned stadium-like center, coffee in hand, muffin on plate, I was deeply moved by where the modern church has mistaken disciple-like Jesus following ministry to safe head counting folks. I think it was not the intention of church but slowly the comfort of being "the same" overwhelming the gospel and making very little room in the inn.
A close heart friend and I stood during prayer time, crying at the place the church has found its home. A home where little interruptions occur and the smelly distractions of people who aren't "pretty" have a spot to sit or even escorted to the back row. The mentally and physically challenged are escorted often to private rooms where their bizarre arm wavings or dancing won't again be a distraction. The "pretty" people sit nicely looking similar waiting for worship to begin, hoping that nothing will surprise them. It's all about expectations of the experience; what I am used to and prepared for. Then at the awaited unspoken time, the silent internal bell rings, dismissing all folks to leave the way they entered, barely if at all changed.
Thank you Beth for challenging us to let the old self, the dead stinky self that was alive before my encounter with a Living God, be buried. Stop making room for this extra weight; making excuses on his/her behalf. A new life in Christ is just that! New Life. A new way to see the world and all its flaws. Making welcome the stranger, no matter the smell or the color of skin or the piercings or tattoos that make me a bit uncomfortable. Leaving God's work to God; just practicing being a vessel of love and no condemnation. How can the brokenhearted know that God loves them Or believe us when our "tract" or light up sign in the front yard tells them IF we aren't willing to share our pew? If we aren't willing to buy their lunch? If their burden isn't sharable because it makes me afraid or uncomfortable?
Am I or are we really that conditional that fear of the different has that deafening power over us? Am I more committed to the law of the land than to extend Love? I guess so. I see pods of folks chatting quietly, because loudly would be rude...like God can't hear gossip. Really? I am embarrassed at the ignorance our society has diluted God's power to free those in prison or give sight to the blind or free the prisons of the mind. Do we or do we not believe that Christ died, shed God's blood, for every soul?
I am not satisfied but not angry. I am committed to raising my children to be passionate to the world. The world has nothing to offer when it comes to eternal things; it's my joy and responsibility to live life a LIGHT unto this dark world. To preach good news to anyone who will listen. Preaching by lifestyle, and according to Augustine using words sparingly.
Make welcome this day freedom under God's mercy table not a book of laws. A place where all are welcome and not judged. Leave judgment to God and let him do His work among us; we might find that our hearts are the ones in most jeopardy. God is able to exceedingly above all we think or imagine begin and finish a work He has in store for us.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Monday, September 2, 2013
Marbles
Marbles...what do they have to do with faith. Well I can't for sure what they mean literally but for one family (ours) they have meant great encouragement. Weighted glass with terrific designs moving together offer relaxation and rest for our sweet Katie b. It's really amazing to watch her play with them. They are gathered in a giant blue bin easily accessible to Katie. She dumps them onto the carpet and begins running her fingers over them and through them. This weekend I paid close attention to her.
Question: what does one do with thousands of marbles rolling on the carpeted floor? Katie begins to sort them by her "favorites," gently moving her hand over searching for those same 100. She sorts them into piles. Marbles are cold to the touch; she knows the flat ones from the strange shaped ones from the round ones. She feels for any nicks and if she finds one like that she gives the damaged one to us. Getting rid of the damaged one is too painful for her so she asks us to please make it go away. See getting rid of the chipped marbles is my insistence; I know she could cut her hands, otherwise Katie would have a special box for those marbles.
Usually I just hear the sound of marbles, touching one another as Katie sorts. She's usually on her tummy or her knees so that her limited vision can see every detail, always noticing something different with an ordinary, not-new marble. Everyday is new. She starts over like she's not known these marbles, same pattern, same treasure.
I am deeply touched. In this world where I hear daily, "I am bored or if I don't have electronics I have nothing to do." Or "Mrs. Erwin please let me check my phone; I need it." These comments remind me of some great need for the external; the instant gratification of information by the swipe of the screen. The need for identity to see who is "vining or tweeting" about me. Why can't we be satisfied? I am as guilty as any. I love my phone. That's an odd use of the word love but I am pretty connected to my information and apps I need to check. Hear the words: need to check, lost without, bored if I can't...
Then I watch Katie. Now hear me, this girl LOVES electronics. But her comfort is in the marbles. Her greatest treasure is finding a marble that need a home, a home with her collection. I watch her carefully, never tiring of the same routine, feeling the marbles, sorting them...then the magic happens.
Katie begins to make designs out of the collaboration of marbles. Moving them with the palm of her hand, gently forming into designs. It sound odd but it's actually artistic. It's pretty neat to observe. If you make yourself available to Katie, she invites you to see her creations. She asks you to feel certain aspects. But if you tire of the redundancy of the process, you will miss the moment.
Living with disability is most unusual for the disabled. Let us not forget; they desire friendship, companionship like all of us, often living in a self-centered world seeking nothing but personal gain. But they see and experience parts of the world with a freshness. A unique lens and unless you "stop and smell the roses"- move out of the rush, you will be blind to. This experience of watching Katie, getting on hands-knees seeing a glimpse of how she sees her marbles is just that, a glimpse.
Marbles are just a thing...a game of long ago. For Katie b, they are her treasure. The collection that each one of them has a special mark or sound. In the busyness of life, it's hard to lend an ear or squint my eyes or stoop to see closer...see those moments are scheduled, planned or written in the calendar. They simply happen. Thanks Katie b for moment of solitude.
Question: what does one do with thousands of marbles rolling on the carpeted floor? Katie begins to sort them by her "favorites," gently moving her hand over searching for those same 100. She sorts them into piles. Marbles are cold to the touch; she knows the flat ones from the strange shaped ones from the round ones. She feels for any nicks and if she finds one like that she gives the damaged one to us. Getting rid of the damaged one is too painful for her so she asks us to please make it go away. See getting rid of the chipped marbles is my insistence; I know she could cut her hands, otherwise Katie would have a special box for those marbles.
Usually I just hear the sound of marbles, touching one another as Katie sorts. She's usually on her tummy or her knees so that her limited vision can see every detail, always noticing something different with an ordinary, not-new marble. Everyday is new. She starts over like she's not known these marbles, same pattern, same treasure.
I am deeply touched. In this world where I hear daily, "I am bored or if I don't have electronics I have nothing to do." Or "Mrs. Erwin please let me check my phone; I need it." These comments remind me of some great need for the external; the instant gratification of information by the swipe of the screen. The need for identity to see who is "vining or tweeting" about me. Why can't we be satisfied? I am as guilty as any. I love my phone. That's an odd use of the word love but I am pretty connected to my information and apps I need to check. Hear the words: need to check, lost without, bored if I can't...
Then I watch Katie. Now hear me, this girl LOVES electronics. But her comfort is in the marbles. Her greatest treasure is finding a marble that need a home, a home with her collection. I watch her carefully, never tiring of the same routine, feeling the marbles, sorting them...then the magic happens.
Katie begins to make designs out of the collaboration of marbles. Moving them with the palm of her hand, gently forming into designs. It sound odd but it's actually artistic. It's pretty neat to observe. If you make yourself available to Katie, she invites you to see her creations. She asks you to feel certain aspects. But if you tire of the redundancy of the process, you will miss the moment.
Living with disability is most unusual for the disabled. Let us not forget; they desire friendship, companionship like all of us, often living in a self-centered world seeking nothing but personal gain. But they see and experience parts of the world with a freshness. A unique lens and unless you "stop and smell the roses"- move out of the rush, you will be blind to. This experience of watching Katie, getting on hands-knees seeing a glimpse of how she sees her marbles is just that, a glimpse.
Marbles are just a thing...a game of long ago. For Katie b, they are her treasure. The collection that each one of them has a special mark or sound. In the busyness of life, it's hard to lend an ear or squint my eyes or stoop to see closer...see those moments are scheduled, planned or written in the calendar. They simply happen. Thanks Katie b for moment of solitude.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)