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Desperate?

I am desperate.

I don’t feel desperate. I feel healthy and happy.

That’s the problem.

I’m not sick, hungry, thirsty, or poor. But whether I feel it or not, I am desperate for God. I need his power. I need his wisdom. I need to be taught to pray.

I need power to love. I need power to want to love. I need power to want to forgive. I need the love of God put in my heart for others.

How about you?

A neighboring child desperate for affection Pictures, Images and PhotosJesus’ first statement when he sat on the mountain to teach was about being “poor in spirit.” Brennan Manning says that’s about knowing our utter poverty before God. We have nothing to offer him. Nothing. We are completely dependent. Indeed, desperate.

Though we are in critical need, we need not despair, because the Holy Spirit is at work in us.

But if we felt our spiritual desperation more keenly, we might seek more intensely. Distracted by pleasure and comfort, health and happiness, we may find it challenging to seek God’s wisdom, power, love.

Whether we feel it or not, the reality remains. We are all desperate for God.

Lord Jesus, work a poverty of spirit into our hearts. Help us grasp our inherent desperation for you.  Come, Holy Spirit.

 

 

 

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Holy Spirit Flavors

Rice and beans? Meat and potatoes? Cheese, bread, and fruit? These are three among many cuisines. Which are you drawn to? Based on your upbringing or your sense of adventure, you probably prefer one diet over the other. All provide the needed protein. Each group comes in manifold types and combinations. Flavors range from mild to strong.

Does the Holy Spirit, like world cuisines, come in different flavors? That was my thought in worship recently, as I sensed the presence of God through his Spirit in a charismatic gathering. In an atmosphere of lively music, many people raised their hands, and a few danced. My tears flowed as I sensed Jesus’ kindness.

But for many, charismatic worship feels out of control, too emotional. They prefer the majesty of an Episcopal or Catholic service. The design of the structure for worship conveys the presence of the Holy Spirit as much as the music or the words of songs. An ideal setting for them would be Washington, D. C.’s National Cathedral.

Others prefer the simplicity of a non-instrumental Church of Christ. A few years ago, at a writing conference, we sang worship songs accompanied by a piano. I sat with a new acquaintance who was used to singing a capella. “I’m distracted by the instruments,” she said. I’m guessing she didn’t sense the presence of the Holy Spirit that day. The flavor impeded her experience of God.

Jesus in the flesh gave people the experience they needed–sometimes strong, sometimes majestic, sometimes sweet. Humble, flexible, and responsive, His Spirit also provides strengthening protein in flavors we respond to.

Father, Son, Spirit: Thank you for your infinite variety. Feed us today, and this year so we may continue to grow up into you.

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The Backpack-carrying God

On my morning walk, I noticed a mom holding the hands of her two early elementary age children, on the other side of the busy brick street. When traffic cleared, she let go and they ran across, jostling oversized backpacks. On their way to school, I assumed, the children trudged in front of me up the side street. From the front porch, Mom shouted encouragement.

Do many believers think that’s a picture of God with us? We’re on our way to study or work for him, hauling a huge backpack.

Do we experience God as watching over us, certainly, but from a distance? He’s above us, on the porch, able to see a long way. He’s calling to us, “Keep it up. No, don’t dilly-dally there. Good job. You can carry that load.”

Is that what he means when he says in Matt. 28:20, “I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”? This is the God-man who wept with Mary and Martha at the tomb of Lazarus. It’s the Spirit of Jesus who settled like tongues of fire in that upper room where 120 followers waited and prayed for “power from on high.” The one who is with us always is the Father-God of whom Isaiah says, “In all their distress he too was distressed.” (63:9)

He’s not just standing on the porch, cheering us on. He’s carrying the pack, walking with us, holding our hand.

Jesus, sweet Jesus, we long to experience, daily, that sense of your manifest presence with us. More Lord, more.

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Wide Open

Wide open. That's how my grandboy holds his mouth when he's ready for the next bite of oatmeal. He couldn't stretch his lips any farther. He's a focused eater. He may stop a second to point at a bird that lands on the windowsill, or point to his sippy cup for a drink, but he stays with it. He knows what he needs and he is ready.

His mouth looks just like the four mouths of the robins just outside my friend's door, nested in her asparagus sprengeri houseplant, outside for the summer. When I saw them the other day, I couldn't even see their bodies, just their mouths, open to the sky, ready for mama robin.

How do I learn to be so wide open to the one who feeds me? How do I stretch my mouth to receive with abandon, all Jesus wants to give me? "Taste and see that the Lord is good," the psalmist says (Psalm 34:8) Though I know much of his goodness, there is always more with Jesus.

These images, of babies with wide open mouths, remind me again of need to be hungry. I need to be a focused eater of the word of God. A consistent seeker of his presence and power. We get distracted by a world out of control, old pain, new fears, and endless tasks. Right now, let's stop for just a minute, and practice opening our spiritual mouths. We need his food. Let's be ready when he brings nourishment.

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The Canopy Awaits

As the funeral procession
turned the corner, across the early spring field, I saw the blue canopy.
Drawing nearer the little cemetery among the farms, I though about my own
journey to that waiting canopy. When God calls me home, will I have done all
his will? I particularly thought about how I’d feel if I had not written a
memoir. Whatever happens, whether the book succeeds or fails in the
marketplace, I’m grateful for grace to be faithful to that sense of calling. At
least I won’t have that regret on my deathbed.

It’s Good Friday. Jesus
had fulfilled the purpose for which the Father had sent him. He’d lived life in
constant, immediate dependence on the Holy Spirit. He’d demonstrated the
passion and compassion of his father. "My food," said Jesus, in John 3:34,
"is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work.”  Jesus was not weighed down on the cross with
regrets. He was fully present to the last will of the Father.

This moment, I’m feeling
stressed. I regret I’m not fully present to God’s work in the world. When we
stress about finances, or computer problems, or publicity snafus, we forget to
be grateful, humble, trusting. At least I do. I’m going to get off the computer
and mindful of the blue canopy awaiting me, go practice those virtues. Care to
join me?

Jesus, you are our
enabling and our peace. Come, by your Spirit, and bring that peace.

 

   

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The Word, Made Flesh

          And
the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory,
the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and
truth.                John 1:14, KJV

Father, may we behold the glory of your son this week. Give us fresh eyes, please, so we can see the light of your love lying in that dim manger. And make us hungry for your goodness, manifest in and through us. May your kingdom come in our hearts, may your will be done in our lives–to glorify Jesus. Amen.

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Sharing a Mind

“Somebody said…”

“Yeah, I know…”

At church, my husband Jerry and I were walking through the
lobby to the water fountain when we both noticed a retired friend as he greeted
people at the door. In these five words, we communicated. We both knew what the
other meant.

 

You don’t get it? No, you don’t know our context, our
history, or our Thanksgiving dinner with several other friends. Sitting around the table, one of them had mentioned he’d heard this man had gone back to work.
One glimpse of him had triggered the memory for both of us. We’d both felt sad
to hear that maybe he’d had to supplement his retirement income. (Later, we
found out it was more rumor than fact, but that’s a different devotional.)

 

This marital shorthand is fun. After thirty-six years, it
happens pretty often that we both have the same thought simultaneously and need
few words to communicate. We feel close and connected as we chuckle together
about sharing one mind.

 

The Bible says we “have the mind of Christ.” I wish my mind
was as attuned to Jesus’ mind as it is to Jerry’s. I’ve been walking with Jesus
thirty-six years, too. Not as closely as with Jerry, I guess. Once in a while I
feel like my reaction is simultaneously mine and Jesus’. But too often, I’m on a different page.

 

I want more and more to live in Jesus’ context, to deepen
our shared history, and sit at table with him daily, don’t you? Then, our
thoughts will more and more be his thoughts, our reactions his reactions. Oh,
to share his mind, his heart, his emotions. We are made for that fellowship.

 

Jesus, give us the heart to walk more closely with you
today.  

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More than It Looks

 

“I am asking you to bring the Kingdom to people, sweetie.
That often looks small, as in quick acts of prayer, little kindnesses, and small words.
But it is big. Like everything in the Kingdom it is more than it looks.”

 

God gave me these words a few months ago and I keep them posted
on my desk. We often don’t know what a small action means to the recipient.

 

A few years ago, I was enjoying a local sweet corn festival,
wandering through the crafts booths and listening to my favorite genre
of music, bluegrass. My husband was working behind the scenes at the festival,
so I was alone. Near one of the two stages I sat on the grass to enjoy the
music. Soon two couples I knew brought their chairs and sat with me. The men
went to get sweet corn and I chatted with the women.

 

When the guys returned, in addition to their own food, they’d
brought a lemonade and an ear of corn for me. A very small gift. And yet, I
still cry as I write these words. Why? They hadn’t asked me if I wanted
anything. They took the risk of rejection. And one of the men was the man who
first demonstrated to me that Christianity was a viable option. The other was a
psychiatrist who’d briefly seen me when I was at my worst, during a serious
emotional crisis many years ago. The value they saw in me, communicated by the
gift, touched me deeply.

 

Our kind words, our small gifts may seem insignificant, but
like everything in this inbreaking rule and reign of good King Jesus, they are
more than we know.

 

Jesus, may we be ever alert to the gifts, the prayers, and
the words that will help bring in the kingdom of God in others.

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Not Enough to Give



“Oops, I blew out the vein.” The phlebotomist at the blood
bank had just inserted a needle in a vein in the crook of my right arm.

“What does that mean?” I was feeling a bit of pain, but that phrase sounded worse than I felt.

“Oh, I just mean your vein won’t receive the needle and the
blood immediately clotted. Have you had trouble giving blood before?”

“No. But maybe I didn’t drink enough water today. I just
remembered an hour ago that I meant to pick up my husband after work to come give
blood. I only drank a couple of glasses of water since I remembered.” I smiled,
raising my eyebrows.

She agreed that was probably the problem, especially after
she bruised my left arm, too. I learned my lesson. Previously I’d prepared all
day to give blood by drinking several glasses of extra fluid.

 

A couple of days later, I thought, that’s a metaphor. Like I
don’t always drink enough of the Holy Spirit before I try to minister to
others. Paul says, in 1Corinthians:
 “For we were all baptized by one Spirit
into one body—whether Jews or Greeks, slave or free—and we were all given
the one Spirit to drink.” (12:13,NIV) 

My ability to bless others is directly proportional to my ingestion of the water of the Holy Spirit.
When we wish to give a pint of blessing rather than just a drop, we must be full of the water of the Holy Spirit.

 

Don’t we tend to forget our dependence? I do. For those of
us who respond to images, perhaps the image of veins with only enough blood for
myself but not enough to give, will help remind us to drink our daily measure
of the essential water of the Spirit.

 

Dear Holy Spirit, may we thirst for you.

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