Peace Rising

Sunrise at the corner of Spring Road.

Risen!…The greatest day in history, the miracle of a new day, the moon shining at my back, songbirds and crows singing praise, the stillness, the smell of sweet earth, a view of the Wapack that takes your breath away. The ancient Celtic believers must have known a morning like this…

“Deep peace, pure white of the moon to you;

Deep peace, pure green of the grass to you;

Deep peace, pure brown of the earth to you;

Deep peace, pure blue of the sky to you;

Deep peace of the flowing air to you;

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you;

Deep peace of the shining stars to you…

Deep peace of the Son of Peace to you.”

Checkout Line Awakening

Last night’s thunder and lightning have been replaced by this morning’s mighty rushing wind that is making the trees roar and setting the two ship’s bells in the backyard to dancing. Their joyful clanging is almost church-bell-like while reading an ancient Hebrew invitation on this first day of Holy Week: “I was glad when they said to me, ‘let us go to the house of the Lord!’” (Psalm 122:1) But their joyful clanging triggers another reminder: More than 2,000 years ago, Jesus showed up not just at synagogue but wherever His followers happened to be in their normal everyday life.

It's good to remember that He still loves to do that...

...Preoccupied with life and a bunch of to-dos on a rainy Good Friday morning not long ago, and wondering if anyone (including myself) had grasped the meaning of this day in history, something wonderfully jolting happened while standing, of all places, in the grocery store checkout line. It began with a rugged-looking workman in front of me who was carrying the surprising combination of a balloon presumably destined to be given to his child, and a pot of springtime for someone special in his life. But none of it was as surprising as his reply to the cheerful cashier's "Happy Friday, sir!"

"Thank you, and happy Good Friday to you...if you believe in all of that."

"Oh, I do! Happy Good Friday to you as well, sir."

Wow, people were actually talking Gospel things in public? In a grocery store, no less. And that was that, or so I thought. Until it was my turn to check out, and the cashier continued her train of thought as she scanned my items, then looking out the window at the dreary weather: "You know, I was just telling my husband this morning, every Good Friday, it seems to be like this. I don't think that's a coincidence, do you?"

Wait. Was this cashier opening the door to further conversation about the Good Friday I had nearly forgotten in all my preoccupation? And here? Where anyone and everyone could listen in, in a grocery store checkout line? How cool! And the door was opened, and the uplifting conversation went public. It’s easy to look for Jesus on Sunday mornings in “the house of the Lord” when God's people gather together. Easier still is to forget that...

... just as He burst forth from the tomb on that most glorious of mornings, Jesus still shows up in unlikely places by bursting in to our preoccupied everyday lives.

This was not the first time Jesus showed up at a grocery store checkout line. Something similar happened several years earlier during a different holiday....

Everyone was in a kind and festive mood, even though the line was long, and remarkably patient for day before Thanksgiving. The line seemed to be moving at a snail's pace—make that a frozen snail. Stores seem to love this. It's why they often display some of their most tempting goodies nearest the cash register, so that you check it all out while you're waiting for the snail to move. The marketing scheme worked. I scanned it all, because there was nothing else to do. But then looking up one of the shelves by the window, my eye caught a jolly figure standing outside the store with a red collection bucket and bell. 'Tis the season, after all, and I purposed to stop by on my way home. 

Fortunately, the people in front of me had only a couple of items, so I was out of the store faster than expected. As I headed to the bearded fellow with the red bucket and bell, I noticed a sign and easel had been set up next to the collection pot. Today was a special collection for a young local guy who had been seriously wounded while serving in Iraq. Instead of emptying my pocket of loose change as usual, without hesitation, I went to my billfold and pulled out dollar bills and stuffed them as best I could into the bucket. 

The jolly bearded gentleman handed out remembrance pins with a photo of the soldier on it, and as I started walking away, pinning the pin to my fleece, I suddenly—out of nowhere—felt a wave of tears trying to rise up. For sure, part of it was the emotion of being a dad, and thinking: "If it was my son, I'd give anything to make his world right again. Anything!" But then Divine revelation while, of all places, walking downtown: As I was making my way back to my car and asking God aloud about this strange reaction, almost immediately, I sensed Him speak in so many words: "This is how I feel about you, and for everyone you see around you right now, and in that grocery line. I have looked upon My kids, gravely wounded by sin, and I determined that I would give anything to make it right again. And I did.”

Right then and there, on a side street downtown, while walking and talking and doing the supposedly unimportant stuff of life, I celebrated Thanksgiving and Easter together in a moment that seemed far more significant and weighty than the goodness of what happens on any given Sunday morning....

... "You saved four dollars today. Thank you, and happy Easter!" And just as I was on that day several years ago, and thinking of the rugged workman with the balloon and his Good Friday sermon starter, I left the grocery store checkout line on that dreary Good Friday morning grateful all over again for the One who really matters in this life--no matter where I am.

And with it, renewed hope that no matter what kind of mess the world is in right now, God is still speaking to and through His kids today right in the middle of it all—in “the house of the Lord” on Sunday for sure, but perhaps most loudly and urgently in the streets, the daily grind, and in the grocery store checkout lines.

"This is my Father's world...He speaks to me everywhere."

—Hymn, by Maltbie D. Babcock

A Little Bit of Dynamite

 

Last year's Easter sunrise across the street from my church.

“He is not here—He is risen, just as He said He would.”
—Matthew 28:6, Phillips Translation

Barely awake this morning, I looked out the window at the emerging glow of light on the eastern horizon and found myself kinda-sorta singing the first verse of that great Easter hymn: “Christ the Lord is risen today! Hallelujah!” And it stopped me in my tracks, maybe because I was struggling to remember all the words or maybe because working with words and finding the right words to say things clearly has been my lifelong career. I was suddenly reminded once more of one of the littlest throw-away words of all time in that hymn, one that explodes with impact this Resurrection Day morning:

“Is.” 

It may be a tiny word but underestimate its power at your own risk. Because as that old hymn declares, “Is” is not a has-been, used-to-be, might-be kind of word. Dictionaries state matter-of-factly that “is” means “to be” or better still, “to be present,” but for we who Believe, that means “is” is everything! “Is” is active. It is right now and relevant. It’s an awesomely amazing little word that reminds our life-numbed minds this morning that…“God’s not dead He IS surely alive!”

“Yes, but tell me again, how can I know for sure?” 

Because from before the beginning of time, God has said about Himself: “I AM the Lord! That IS My name!” (Isaiah 42:8, Amplified). From the garden tomb on a morning like this, the angel tells startled and confused visitors looking for Jesus: “He isn’t here! He IS risen from the dead, just as He said would happen!” (Matthew 28:6, New Living Translation). And in the last chapters of history, God assures us nothing has changed about Him and never will, and best of all that this story is not over: “I am the Alpha and the Omega—the beginning and the end,” says the Lord God. “I am the one who IS, who always was, and who IS still to come—the Almighty One!” (Revelation 1:8, New Living Translation)

And because “Christ, the Lord, IS risen today!,” I can rest in knowing He still reigns over this (crazy) world He created and that He is ever interceding for me (Hebrews 7:25), every single day. He’s not a far-off, too busy with other things, “try-to-go-figure-it-out-yourself-and-call-Me-if-you-need-anything” God, but the One and only “Emmanuel—God with us” 24/7 God. And whenever we need reminding, convincing or reassurance that “is” really means what it says it means, that little stick of dynamite has some pretty amazing synonyms that dictionary writers think are just interesting similar words but to every Believer—especially on Resurrection Sunday—are fire to the bones:

The Lord…abides

The Lord…acts

The Lord…breathes

The Lord…continues

The Lord…does

The Lord…endures

The Lord…holds

The Lord…inhabits

The Lord…lasts

The Lord…lives

The Lord…moves

The Lord…obtains

The Lord…persists

The Lord…prevails

The Lord…remains

The Lord…rests

The Lord…stands

The Lord…stays

Which is why one of the best-known Bible passages of them all will always get us recalibrated, well beyond Easter:

“The Lord IS my Shepherd. I will have everything I need.”

(Psalm 23:1, NLV)

"What?!"

 

Early spring along the shore, Cunningham Pond.

“Obedience to God is the pathway to the life you really want to live.”—Joyce Meyer

The t-shirt is right: “Life is good.”

But loving in it can be hard.

Serving others in it can be hard.

Praying throughout it can be really hard.

“Follow Me” every day in it can be—no, is—definitely hard.

Why should something so good be so difficult?

Because in the natural, following Jesus every day is a war... of wills.

Though everything deep within desires to do so, the mere idea of obeying God can at times seem crazy, foolish, or it simply doesn’t make sense.

The war often prompts a response that sounds like: “Yeah, but…” or “But what if?…” or “Maybe another time.”

It’s kind of like being told by Jesus to go downtown, walk up to a total stranger and say you’re borrowing a couple of his really nice donkeys simply because Jesus needs to borrow them.

“What?!”

Until a seemingly throw-away verse preaches:

“The two disciples did as Jesus commanded.”—Matthew 21:6

And what followed was a time of great joy, shouting and dancing, and a parade filled with waving palm branches and a red carpet of cloaks for Jesus and two donkeys. Not only that, it was a fulfillment of a 500-year-old prophecy about a king and a donkey that would eventually bring Life to all—even those along that parade route—who would believe. “Behold, your King is coming to you!” (Matthew 21:5). Forget the duck boats, marching bands or rose-decorated floats—this was by far the grandest entrance by anyone in the history of the world!…(it gets even better, just wait!).

Every Palm Sunday, it’s that joyous processional we tend to remember. But maybe the story of the guys and the donkeys is just as important. It’s a much-needed reminder that on this Walk of ours, we can never go wrong by obeying the Word, even when it doesn’t seem to make sense. “What?!”

Sometimes, you just have to fight (against yourself) for it.

“We’re not called to live by human reason. All that matters is obedience to God’s Word and His leading in our lives. If God says go, we’ll go. If He says stay, we’ll stay.

When we are in His will, we are in the safest place in the world.”

—Brother Yun, from “The Heavenly Man”

Just Because...

United Methodist Church, Peterborough, NH

I was going to sleep in on that rainy Sunday morning, and the idea of doing a lot of nothing except reading the paper and drinking coffee sounded really appealing. But by mid-morning, what I thought at the time was a guilty conscience had me scrambling to get dressed and heading to church because it wasn’t just Sunday, it was Easter. And not getting 20 questions/comments around the dinner table along the lines of “we missed you in church today, where were you?” became far more comfortable to my flesh than a sweat shirt and sweat pants in my apartment.

I was late. Really late. But the ushers smiled and said hello anyway, so that was a relief. I sat in the way back and settled in. I don’t remember one single thing about the rest of that day, but many years later, I am convinced that it was the beginning of a seismic shift that changed my life, and that I showed up at church that Easter not because of a guilty conscience but because someone(s) was praying…

“I know how much you trust the Lord, just as your mother Eunice and your grandmother Lois do;

and I feel sure you are still trusting Him as much as ever."

—2 Timothy 1:5, Living

...I figured it was my grandmother’s doing, followed closely by mom and dad and a few others.

Growing up, I thought Mamie (that's what we called our grandmother) was one of the wisest, kindest people I knew and yet she was a woman of few words. Her faith in God was just as quiet and yet seemed to be strong. I remember her listening to Tennessee Ernie Ford hymns and faithfully watching evangelist Oral Roberts on her black and white TV. The only time I remember her getting upset was when she was listening to a Red Sox game on the radio while she ironed and she raised her voice at “those Yankees!” for ruining Carl Yastrzemski’s birthday.

Mom picked up a lot of those same traits. And just as Paul pointed out to Timothy, put the two of them together, and I didn’t have a chance.

Thank God.

Several months later, Mamie learned she had terminal cancer. I don’t recall her ever changing her disposition, but it devastated mom and shook what little faith I had at the time. “Why God? Why her? Why?!” Even so, for the most part, I continued life as usual with little interest in church or spending Sunday mornings there regularly. But I did like to sing, and when I was invited to join the choir, I didn’t hesitate, even while singing about a Jesus and salvation and healing and such that was all pretty much foreign to my thinking and way of life.

But, there was this song. Mamie loved it, and so did my grandfather. And my mom, and my dad. And the whole choir. And doggone it, my grandmother and mother and whoever else with them must have been praying because it grabbed me, too, even though it wasn’t rock and roll. And on one Saturday night out with the boys, coming home I swore I heard a voice within my head say something like “you are at a crossroads—which road will you choose?” Going to church the next day was furthest from my mind for most of the night but suddenly became, “I’ve gotta be there. Because we’re singing that song tomorrow.” 

Mamie and mom and somebody else must have been praying some more. Because that Sunday, after we sang that song, and the invitation was given to receive Christ as Lord of my life (and not me—that wasn’t working out too well, anyway), I went all in. Of all the deep things the pastor said that day, the one line I remember that got my attention was “what if you get hit by a truck on the way out the door today?” And all of heaven must have chuckled a little: “Watch this!,” as I found myself moving to the altar.

Several months later, right before Christmas, Mamie went Home. Even though I knew a bit more about Where she was going, I was still a mess about it all. But on her way, she left me something. She left me that song to carry for all those “Why God? Where are You? This world (my world) is a mess!” moments. And many years later, I still cannot think of a Resurrection Sunday morning without singing along:

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow

Because He lives, all fear is gone

Because I know He holds the future

And life is worth the living just because He lives*

And I picture Mamie, and mom and dad, and all the others I’ve loved who have gone to glory, nodding their heads: “It’s all true. Keep ‘trusting Him as much as ever.’ And don't forget to pray for someone. You never know.”

* Because He Lives, (C) 1971, William J. Gaither Inc.

A Sunrise Like None Other

"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." —Romans 15:13, NIV

Not a breeze, not a bird’s early morning call, not a sound from creation

Only a holy hush greeted the rising of the sun this morning on this hilltop back road in my hometown

A praise of deafening silence

One filled with a symphony of unspeakable glory and seemingly every color on the Artist’s palette

As if all in heaven and on earth were breathless at the Promise,

Bowing at the wonder as perhaps never before

To celebrate more than just another new day, but:

“He is risen…just as He said.”

And as I join the silence, three more unspoken words stir assurance as never before:

Hope ... is ... alive! 

Three words which trigger memories of earlier words written, perhaps for such a morning in such a time as this…

A hope that is not wishful thinking but anchored in the only One with a perfect resume;

A hope that is not "out there somewhere” but that is as real and as close as your next breath.

The perfect theme song for this often-crazy-unpredictable Journey;

Especially right now.

The kind of tune that is good to have stuck in your head.

A hope that restores…joy unspeakable, but joy nonetheless

And peace.

And trust for putting one foot in front of the other.

Over and over again…

And so in the deafening silence, before a sunrise like none other, my heart this day joins all of creation:

“Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in You.”—Psalm 143:8

Head to the Heart

Photo: Warren Grieve (pixabay.com)

"I open up to You, this Love that makes me new; Oh may my heart receive this Love that carries me..."—United Pursuit

Mind shift: Sundays were never meant to be the sighing end to another too-short weekend. They were never meant to be just another day among seven. Sundays were meant to be glorious, no matter the weather, because Sundays are God's weekly reminder to our world-numbed souls of the Resurrection that changed, and still changes... everything.

"It's Friday...but Sunday's coming!"

A weekly reminder that on that first glorious Sunday morning many centuries ago, a bunch of men and women who walked closely with Jesus for about three years were running frantically to and from an empty tomb trying to wrap their brains and hearts around what was going on, and the angel's words of shock and awe, "He is risen, just as He said."

Resurrection power is like that. It is mind-blowing and beyond comprehension, no matter how often you spout the words "He is risen!" aloud, or nod your head to the many times Jesus said it was going to happen.

Until it happens to you—when God awakens you from the dead of your own thinking and way of life and calls you to step into the glorious known yet unknown, where life is full and alive and has no end, and is totally upside down to all that you've been led to believe.

Some people have pretty dramatic resurrection experiences, and these friends stir my faith like few others can. But the Gospels indicate that some of the most resistant ones to come alive were often those who grew up going to synagogue, were pretty decent people overall, and who "got it" pretty well up in their brain. But that's where it was entombed, never connecting to the heartbeat of life...

...."The religion scholar said, 'A wonderful answer, Teacher! So lucid and accurate—that God is one and there is no other. And love Him with all passion and intelligence and energy, and loving others as well as you love yourself. Why, that's better than all offerings and sacrifices put together!' When Jesus realized how insightful he was, He said, 'You're almost there, right on the border of God's kingdom."

(Mark 12:32-34, The Voice)

For 27 years, I was that guy. "Right on the border." But not for much longer. Because even though I didn't know it at the time, someone was praying. Several someones, in fact. (Rabbit trail: never give up!)

And then there was that strange moment when some "voice" or loud impression or whatever within spoke to me while out on the town one night: "You are at a crossroads. Which road will you take?" And all of that at about the time I was singing in the church choir because I liked to sing but far from God and yet being strangely drawn like a magnet to a simple gospel song: "Because He lives, I can face tomorrow..." Because it was my grandmother's favorite song at the time, and I really loved her, and she wasn't well, and she was the first person I knew who loved Jesus like He was more than a historical figure.

And then one day, just a few weeks before another Resurrection Sunday, all those seemingly random elements came together: Love broke through the roadblock between the head and heart. It came unannounced, almost quietly and yet with a burning, unexplainable something-something inside. I wanted, like those first men and women, to run like the wind. It was resurrection power that was shocking and beyond comprehension at first, and then altogether amazing and wonderful. ....

"From the head to the heart, You take me on a journey of letting go and getting lost in You..."

But Sundays are a reminder that resurrection isn't a one and done thing. Some 16 years later, resurrection power reached even deeper. It is one thing to be on the outside looking in, to try to be a good person yet being "almost there, right on the border of God's kingdom." It is another thing entirely to have Love break through culture's tomb of performance, even in a church: A deeply engrained lie that to please people and even God, you just need to do good stuff and more of it.

Ministry burn out.

I had never been "one of those hand raisers," but in a single moment of desperate surrender, up they went. It felt like being in one of those wooden barrels where the bands began to snap off one by one. A new resurrection: Relationship, not performance, won the day and won my heart. And for the first time, I began to understand what real worship, even beyond a song, was all about.

I was reminded of all of that while reading these words from the late Brennan Manning in "The Furious Longing of God"...

"How is that we've come to imagine that Christianity consists primarily in what we do for God? How has this come to be the good news of Jesus? Is the kingdom that He proclaimed to be nothing more than a community of men and women who go to church on Sunday, take an annual spiritual retreat, read their Bibles every now and then, oppose abortion, don't watch x-rated movies, never use vulgar language, smile a lot, hold doors open for people, root for the favorite team, and get along with everybody? Is that why Jesus went through the bleak and bloody horror of Calvary? Is that why He emerged in shattering glory from the tomb? Is that why He poured out His Holy Spirit on the Church? To make men and women with better morals?

The Gospel is absurd and the life of Jesus is meaningless unless we believe that He lived, died, and rose again with but one purpose in mind: to make brand new creations. Not to make people with better morals but to create a community of prophets and professional lovers, men and women who would surrender to the mystery of the fire of the Spirit that burns within, who would live in ever greater fidelity to the omnipresent Word of God, who would enter into the center of it all, the very heart and mystery of Christ, into the center of the flame that consumes, purifies, and sets everything aglow with peace, joy, boldness, and extravagant, furious love. This, my friends, is what it really means to be a Christian. [It] never begins with what we do for God. It always starts with what God has done for us."

For all who come this way on not just another Sunday, and in between all the other resurrection Sundays to come, more of that...and more of You, from the head to the heart.

[Adapted from 4-16-17]

"There’s no shame in looking like a fool, when I give you what I can’t keep to take a hold of You."

The Faithful Sunrise

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness."—Lamentations 3:22-23

(Easter sunrise at Greeley Farm, Wilton, New Hampshire)

Not every sunrise is sunny.

Like this morning in New England.

But it is always there.

And on this day of the greatest sunrise of them all,

Let it be a reminder that no matter what did or didn’t happen yesterday,

That was then, and this is glorious, hopeful now.

For all of even the weakest faith, His promise

Through every storm, every foggy path, is the same:

“Behold, I make all things new.”

That just as He came into the world with the promise of good news of great joy to all

He has conquered sin and the grave and

He is risen, just as He said.

And He has also fulfilled every promise, just as He said,

Even this one:

"And so He is able, now and always, to save those who come to God through Him, because He lives forever to plead with God for them.”—Hebrews 7:25

He’s always got our back.

We just need to take a step and come.

And no matter the weather

To remember the faithful sunrise,

And remember the faithful Son-rise.

And let praise arise:

GOD is able…God IS able…God is ABLE.

“I am not what I want to be but thanks be to God that I want to be better than I am; and I am sure that ‘He which hath begun a good work in [me] will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.’ Here I stand. I can do nothing else, so help me God.”—A.W. Tozer

Rock Music

Then some of the Pharisees in the crowd spoke to Jesus. “Teacher,” they said, “command your disciples to be quiet!” Jesus answered, “I tell you that if they keep quiet, the stones themselves will start shouting.”—Luke 19:39-40, Good News Translation

Every time I picture being among the throng along the road to Jerusalem on that first Palm Sunday, men and women of every age and demographic are jostling for position, stepping on my toes, and shouting and dancing and laying down cloaks and branches in honor of the King in his humble procession—so loud and bold, in fact, that religious spirits tried (and still try) in vain to kill their heavenly sound. 

But now I wonder if that is an incomplete picture?

Because undoubtedly, as Jesus points out, also among that throng of bold enthusiasts are…rocks. Rocks do not sing. They cannot say a word, even if they wanted to. Like all of creation waiting for redemption from the curse of Eden, rocks groan. And yet it seems their praise to their Creator is applauded in heaven for its glorifying response, for doing only what rocks can do, not how beautifully or articulately they do it.

These aren't just the ones by the side of the road but the humankind rocks who, for one heavy reason or another, cannot sing along with the throng, or say a word even if they wanted to. They watch. They want to join in. But the momentary, bluesy weight of whatever-it-is-inside is suffocating, and the worst weight of all is wondering “what’s wrong with me?” when everyone else seems to be having no problem singing and saying lots of powerful words.

All that comes out is …rock music. Groans. Musical notes that have no words. A mixture of “oh” “mmmm” and their many-varied groaning cousins…

…In the middle of a wilderness string of days, while singing a significantly profound biblical declaration song that I had sung along to many times before, the words out of my mouth seemed to suddenly fall to the ground with a thud. My brain nodded yes to everything but for whatever reason from the beat-down of the day, my heart could not get in sync. The grandest of disconnects. 

And for a moment, the familiar words of Truth froze and all that came forth were…groans. Musical notes that had no words, just “woah” “Oh” and “ahhh.” Nonsense? Shouldn't I just stop and shut up? Except for some unearthly reason, with each groan, the heart began to climb out of its muck and mire and rejoice and agree in actual words once again with the Truth of the significantly profound biblical declaration song...

“…but the Spirit Himself knows our need and at the right time intercedes on our behalf with sighs and groanings too deep for words. And He who searches the hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because the Spirit intercedes before God on behalf of God’s people in accordance with God’s will. And we know with great confidence that God who is deeply concerned about us causes all things to work together as a plan for good for those who love God, to those who are called according to His plan and purpose.”—Romans 8:26-28, Amplified

I don't know how that all works, but it does, and He does, over and over again. It was also a reminder for the millionth time that real, raw worship isn’t dependent on feelings at all—whether life at the moment is on an exhilarating mountaintop, a chilled-out country road, or in a dry and thirsty desert—but on holding onto and believing in the One who hears and loves every full-throated voice, and even every groaning rock that cries out His Name.

Selah.

“The heart of God loves a persevering worshipper who, though overwhelmed by many troubles, is overwhelmed even more by the beauty of God.”—Matt Redman

The Seven-Mile Church

"'Weren't our hearts on fire within us while He was talking to us on the road? Didn't you feel it all coming clear as He explained the meaning of the scriptures?' So, they get up immediately and rush back to Jerusalem—all seven miles—where they find the eleven gathered together..." —Luke 24:32-33, The Voice

The familiar "road to Emmaus" story and the guys' eye-opening encounter with Jesus never gets old to retell, re-read, or reabsorb. But what about the road back to Jerusalem? All seven miles of it. Even though it must have been getting dark after Jesus joined them for dinner, culminating with His "I'm very much alive!" revelation, the two Christ-ones set aside weariness and risked their very well-being and comfort. Without hesitation, they walked back the seven miles that very night to tell some incredibly good news to a bunch of friends very much in need of hearing some.

Probably took about three hours at least. No streetlights. Hardly a home with lighted window anywhere to bring some comfort. Strange noises from the woods, to the left and right. But on their arrival, they found friends who were grateful they'd made the effort.

Sometimes, in the comfort of our homes after a long day, suddenly, a friend in need comes to mind, or there's this glimpse of revelation that makes the lightbulb within explode with such clarity that it begs to be shared. Maybe it's a word of discernment for a situation or a loved one that emerges out of a simple prayer that is more sighing than words. Or, there's the ancient Promise that suddenly jumps off the page into your reality as if for the first time, even while mowing the lawn, and it may be for you but you know it's also for that friend who has been in need of direction, hope, wisdom. Maybe all three.

And more often than not, in that comfort and dwindling daylight, it's really easy to say: "Ah, it can wait 'til morning."

Maybe. But perhaps the Emmaus Road guys are trying to lead us down a much better path:

What if there's someone in the dwindling daylight who could really use, who desperately needs some good news that you're carrying inside right now, not tomorrow?"

A simple text, an email, an old-fashioned phone call on that device used for everything else but. And if you really want to push it, there's this one that still needs work, especially in New England: offering to stop by without fearing intrusion of privacy, never realizing yours might be one of the first friendly, comforting faces of their day.

Sometimes, we can make the idea of discipleship more super-spiritual than it was intended. Being a Jesus follower can be as simple as showing procrastination and inconvenience the door. and putting feet to well-known words from the One we claim to be following:

Jesus said, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence.’ This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: ‘Love others as well as you love yourself.’ These two commands are pegs; everything in God’s Law and the Prophets hangs from them.”

Who knows? God might have a much-needed encouraging word in return simply by stepping out—a word we didn't realize we needed until we delivered ours. And even if not, it's still all good. Because making that seemingly inconvenient "seven-mile trek" to someone at just the right time, whether in word or deed, is the very feet of a disciple who is more than a concept in a study guide, who is the hands and voice of a worshiper who does more than just sing...

...and perhaps most all, is the heart of Jesus that makes the idea of 'church' exactly what He had in mind.

"There's a thin place between here and heaven,

There's a Kingdom closing in;

It's our love for God and for others

That makes the world look more like Him..."

from "Be Your Heart," by Michael Ketterer

[ADAPTED FROM 4-12-15]