The Understated

I often have a love--deep dislike relationship with the church, or better put churches. I could never say love-hate because well, I could never hate the broken, untrustworthy institution that is simply that because of me and others like me, of course. And I don't know that I could ever be as bold as St. Augustine who said, (referring to the Church) "she is a whore, but she is my Mother." The Church universal is a beautiful thing because she is the Bride of Christ, she belongs to the Beloved and He makes her beautiful. The earthy, fleshy--working out of that reality can be an ugly thing and cause untold hurt. Which is probably why we hold back. . .we retreat. . . we only attend some. . . pain does that--doesn't it. . .forces us to defend our hearts---

None of which is central to my thoughts this evening. But I've been known to digress a time or two and ramble on. So, when the Lord woke me one night out of a dead sleep with the thought pounding in my heart "December 11th". Me all groggy and sleepy, "huh, Lord?" then "go to church". . .this is weird even for me. . . immediately, I questioned and rolled around thoughts of "where. . . I think Alivia has a ballet performance at some church?. . .the church we've been visiting?". . . I don't find that God hangs around for my internal dialogue. . . sure, He's there but He's "spoken" and the rest . . .well. . .

So, I kid you not, I journal about this . . . I talk to spouse about it (though no others)--R tends to be okay when I think God is leading me one way. . .'cause sometimes I'm so wrong that I cry and pitch a fit. . .and really, its ugly. Trust is hard--even on this journey. I get that. So, I'm all thinking that God is gonna do the miraculous--and I'm pretty sure it's probably going to be spectacular and since my present need tends to be clarification on areas of "serving God" (as if he needs me, but never mind my fat ego for a minute) I have all manner of vain imaginings swirling around my mind. It's Henry Blackaby's fault, actually --Experiencing God is so life changing that now I'm--lookin' for where He's working--then fear--Lord, a new word, really. Don't laugh. R humors me and with great anticipation we head to church. I'm all nervous. . .him too, I suspect.

Panic sets in--really, the title of the sermon series is something about Christmas songs. Surely, I'm not going to have to bear the exegesis of The First Noel --which after all wouldn't be exegesis, now would it? Please Lord, the western Church has got to be deeper that this. Kidding. So I immediately pen a note to R about how this time I was "wrong again". . . but secretly I'm hoping God has sent a disguised angel to give me a "word of direction". . . I do dearly love planning for God-- how He can fulfil His word to me, surely I know exactly what I need and what He meant for me, anyhow. Exhale. Breathe deeply.

Then, when no one was suspecting. . .God broke forth with an amazing chorus of angels, brightly dressed. . .eyes blinded. . .shattering glass of the sanctuary. . .a word in a heavenly voice, "my child this is my will for you". . . I faint outright.

Uh, not really--not even close. I expected skies split, lightening sent forth, fire from heaven. . . words spoken from an ass (wait, He does that ----with me!). . .instead ---

. . .He sent the ordinary. A pastor doing what he does every Sunday. Preaching. Teaching. . .

. . . A baby born in a manger. A mother doing what mother's do. Loving. Holding the vulnerable. .

Extraordinary though, when God takes the usual and infuses it with Himself. For that man who stood before the congregation on Sunday, he broke the bread and Jesus. . .no, the pastor. . .no, Jesus fed my hungry soul. As pastor spoke words that were scrolling through my mind . . . he read them, my mind to his touch pad. . .and I, broken and in need, cowering to an enemy who so often does soul damage with threatening words. Soul fear. . .a life held back. . .just, in case.

. . . An angel of heavenly hosts praising God. . . shepherds?. . .really, no crowds and dignitaries. . .

. . .A word of life breathed into a soul. . .one small congregation. . .really, more should hear this. .

And really are we suprised that the world laughs? Our belief that something so common could change all our yesterdays. . . our tomorrows. How a baby could rewrite the course of human history, by reworking the human heart. Really? How God reworks a life--writing His love more often on "tablets of human hearts" than across the skies. His wonder and amazement shown through a man who speaks of. . .

Shalom. . . Eirene. . .Peace

Jesus walks through my world today just like he did so many years ago. Offering peace in the ordinary. . . the commonplace. . . in the stores and sanctuaries, the farms and factories, to the stay-at-home mom or the CEO, the burger joint worker or the football star--walking through life. . .offering Himself. . .an exchange--- my life for His. Grace sufficient for today. Peace for today. All I need I have in Him--today.

I walk away with hope and I am changed.

One step further,

Joy

,