There have been recent,
private events transpire that have caused me, once again, to realize that I am
captive to too much of this world. And
none of it is satisfying. None of it is
life giving. None of it is lasting.
Rather, all that distracts
me is draining, destructive, or wasteful.
It can be at once numbing and infuriating. It draws me away from all that is good, only
to suck me under and hold me there until I can no longer see the way up.
Thus, for the next two
weeks (at least):
I am unplugging screens. No t.v., no Netflix or
Hulu or Amazon. No movies or series or
episodes. Not even Kindles.
Instead,
I will read scripture and pray and create and play games and talk to my
kids. And read books. And be silly and laugh and do science or make
music and find beauty.
I am unhooking the
internet. No Pinterest or Twitter or Instagram
or Facebook or Snapchat or Spotify. Not
even blogging.
Instead,
I will journal and pray and walk outside, breathing deeply the crisp winter air
and watching the snow on the pines. And
I will write letters and call old friends and be in the moment.
I am purging sugar from
the house. No cakes or cookies or
candies or hot chocolates or cereals that make Halloween envious.
Instead,
we will eat fruits, drink herbal teas, and add honey to foods that need
sweetening.
Because our bodies are
made for better things than screens and sugar.
Our minds grow stagnant and mushy with this steady diet of processed
food and false ideas. And because I
think that we need to relearn how to be with each other. And we need to silence messages that are
harmful and counter-scriptural. We need
to pull our eyes and hearts and minds away from what this world keeps screaming
is so important, and look instead for the face of the One who truly is.
There
were only two of them. Placidly pacing
the sidewalk, placards held aloft with only their cold-pinked noses, cheerful
eyes, and unfettered smiles protruding from cinched parkas. The snow fell like down from heavy, goose
clouds flocked over both mountain and city.
The world was muted with thick beauty; edges softened by the crystalline
blanket of white. Flakes landed on their
lashes, coating them with purity and gemstones.
There
were only two. Because the snow heralded
more to come; the winter storm bearing down on the city as its inhabitants
scurried to the welcome warmth of hearth and home. And ignored the two women on the
sidewalk.
The
light stopped us as we, too, hurried about, hoping to make it back up the
mountain before the snow became too much.
Sitting there in a car full of family and agendas, I felt my shoulders
fall as I wrestled with what I wanted the focus of my year to be. Stillness?
Silence? Listening?
God, please just tell me what to
do. I want to want the same things You
do.
She
turned as we pulled alongside. Her smile
free and open. She lifted an arm to
wave at no one in particular, our eyes caught one another, and her face
brightened. I read her sign. Jarred, I examined her colleague’s. One word.
There on the corner in the midst of the falling snow, the week after
Christmas, mere days into the new year, one word:
Peace.
Not
peace for Israel. Not peace between two
opposing factions. Not peace as a
commodity in a consumerist culture. Just
peace.
And
in that moment, my soul was filled. After
all my half-joking statements that it would be easier if God would just overnight
me the memo, He did what He does: exceed even my pettiest expectations. He sent a sign. Literally.
Struck by the audacity of His love, I put the pieces together, like
bookends to my question. The week before
Christmas our family had been given the opportunity to present the readings and
light the Advent candle at our church.
It had been the candle of Peace.
A
chiasm of words, with the Prince of Peace at their points; God was answering my
prayer before I knew that I was praying it.
“On
the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together,
with the doors locked for fear of the Jews,
Jesus
came
and stood among them and said,
‘Peace be with you!’”
He
comes to us.
Jesus
seeks us out in our hiding; breaking through our barriers of fear to prove to us the glorious, miraculous,
life-altering Truth of His resurrection.
And He doesn’t do it with shame or condemnation or even reluctant
resignation. He does it with Shalom – with peace – and for peace, by bringing His peace to us
and speaking it over us as His greeting and blessing.
*******************************
A
few weeks before, I stared at the screen and wept. I had, not as immediately or dramatically as
she described, been close to giving up a piece of hope.* There had been much gained in the past six
months; but there had been much loss, too. As if a life is a static thing. A self-contained universe with fixed matter,
so that in acquisition there must be release to maintain balance. And with each loss, slivers of hope fluttered
away. So that as I read her words, I
asked aloud:
Where
is my blue morph butterfly? When do I
get a right-here-right-now sign of Your love?
The
answer didn’t come from above. It was
truth already settled in me: Christ is sufficient. His love and hope are alive within me, even
when I can’t feel them. I plucked up and
carried on as dawn met dusk again and again.
Because that is what living is.
But
as is true with so much of life, looking back I can see the scope and shape of
His movements in my days. Unlike the beloved
author, I wasn’t Mary, seeking her Lord at His last known resting place, looking
for hope out in the open – for herself and her friends. I wasn’t on the road, demanding an
explanation for a rolled-away stone, and then fetching others to this glorious
revelation. So I couldn’t find a
butterfly with open wing to give flight to hope.
I,
rather, was the disciples; penned up with fear and failure. Tucked away from that which might harm,
unable to apprehend the miracle of Hope.
Eyes weary with the walls around so that I could not move. Until, with bookended signs, Jesus walks in. Through doors locked with fear, to a table
laden with failure and grieving.
Declaring peace – eirehnh, shalom
– upon those within.
Peace be upon you!
He
always seeks out those He loves. He does
not chastise. He offers His peace: His
wholeness, His harmony, His security, His prosperity, His righteousness. He brings it in to those who have shuttered
themselves away. He gives them shalom so that they can be His peace to
a world in so much need.
When
peace like a river, attendeth my way,
when
sorrow like sea billows roll;
whatever
my lot, thou hast taught me to say:
It
is well, it is well with my soul.**
Peace. That is my focus for the year. The signs have quite literally pointed the
way. And my soul rejoices, as though
Heaven’s gates have been flung open.
Delirious Farewell Tour: Did you feel the mountains tremble?
*Anne Voskamp, "When You're This Close to Giving Up Hope," at A Holy Experience. accessed on 1/8/14 at 10:13 mst. **It Is Well with My Soul, written by Horatio Spafford.
– on the Passing of Chuck Smith, Pastor,
Calvary Chapel
This article may be
surprising to you, reader, if you have followed me here for any length of
time.While I do NOT tolerate church or
pastor bashing, it is apparent that Pastor Chuck Smith and I have marked
differences in our theologies.
And that’s okay.
His views on women in
ministry and leadership are directly opposed to mine; but it’s okay.Because we are members of the same body,
grafted-in kids of the same family, followers and worshipers of the One, True
God and His Son, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.And were it not for Chuck Smith’s Calvary
Chapel movement-turned-denomination, I might not have been a Christ follower at
all.Though my conversion did not occur
in one of their sanctuaries, Calvary Chapel Albuquerque was the church I
crawled into for the year preceding; and Calvary Chapel Brighton was the church
in which my faith began to flourish following and at which I was baptized.
So I guess that makes
Pastor Chuck Smith my great-great-great- *(much like the Jewish genealogies,
there are certain, necessary gaps here)* great, spiritual
grandfather.I wonder how many millions
of other believers can say something like that as well.So, regardless of our theological affiliations,
we do well to honor this man who impacted so many lives for the Kingdom of
God.
Yet, two things concern me.First, that the Christians who hold similar
theological views as mine will use this as an opportunity to bash the pastor,
his theology, or his following.
God, let us be emissaries
of Your peace and comfort, remembering our common core:
The blood of
Jesus Christ.
Second, that today and in the days that
follow, as is so often the case when a believer dies, we will hear a litany of “this
world wasn’t his home.”Okay, I get that
a believer’s ultimate destination is the NEW Heaven and NEW Earth; but for 86
years, this world was Pastor Smith’s home.He grew up here, fell in love here, married here; he reared children, and
raised up a generation of believers, and he no doubt toiled and laughed and
loved on this earth.This earth created by
Our Beloved Maker for that express purpose: so that we may have a home.
God, in His sovereignty, saw
it fit to create this world and still sees fit to populate and sustain it.So please, though a believer’s destination in
the Age to Come is the NEW Heaven and NEW Earth, let us not be flippant about
the earth we have been given charge of now.Let us not so look for the outcome that we miss the beauty in our
journey here.Let us remember that
though we are eventually meant for an eternity in God’s presence, we are before
that, residents of this earth which God in His wisdom and love created for us.
Though I did not know if I
will meet Pastor Smith in the New Heaven, for the Bible is silent on the
relationships of humanity once we are there ensconced, I am thankful for his
and his family’s dedication to the gospel, and to advancing the Kingdom of God.I am thankful for his obedience in sparking a
movement in California in the 70’s, that reached all the way to a small-town
girl in the 2000’s, who thus grew in love with the Lord so that she is decades
later free to attend Seminary in Colorado. May our Father, the God of
all Comfort and Peace, be with Pastor Smith’s loved ones through even
this.Go in peace, brother.
