Adonai, the word is translated Lord and in the Hebrew each time it refers to God it is plural, when referring to a mortal man it is singular. It means master, one in complete authority.
In this culture and this country it is difficult to get a real appreciation and understanding of that concept. We have such abundant freedom and are so fiercely independent that we fail to understand that in truth we are all under authority. We are under the authority of our parents until we are adults. We are under the authority of the government. We are under the authority of the boss in our job. But when it comes to spiritual things we often forget that we are under authority here also. Before we came to Christ, we yielded our authority to the enemy. In coming to Christ, I asked for salvation without any concept of Lordship. They go hand in hand. Jesus is Lord means He is master, one in complete authority. For many that thought will cause a rebellious disquieting of the heart. However, as we come closer to him, come to know him in the inner sanctuary, abide in that place of peace and soak in His love, we begin to see that this authority is so much better than being on our own without it.
His authority is based on and in His love for us. He created us with the purpose of relationship. He is our creator, owner. But he purchased us, redeemed us for the purpose of love. He is our kinsman-redeemer and has earned the right to be called Lord, even though He owned the right to begin with.
The deeper I get into this relationship with this Adonai, the more I treasure this name, this revelation of his character. For in Adonai I find a person that can be trusted in anything. You can trust him with that baby you lost. You can trust him with the past of bad choices that left you regretful. You can trust him with the pain of the memory of abuse. You can trust him with the failure in your responsibility. You can trust him with the shameful memory of that one moment you wish you could undo. You can trust him. Totally. Completely. Because his authority is based in his love for you and He has promised that all works for your good and his glory. How amazing and perfect is that?
My prayer for you today is that you will find in the name Adonai a tender and worshipful whisper of delight and wonder on your lips and that El Shaddai has shed forth something in your heart that helps you to see yourself and your God in a truer and deeper way, through his eyes.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
El Shaddai
Did you know that names are important to God? Names are important because they convey a message.
Think about your own name. Do you know its meaning? Take mine for example, Cheryll, means graceful. Although not evident now, I was a dancer for years and that requires an amount of natural gracefulness. My daughter Kristin’s name was prophetic of my salvation. Her name means Christian, follower of Christ and her middle name Renee means born again. It was for this child I started attending church again and pursuing Christ. My daughter Melanie Dawn’s name means darkness and gentleness and Dawn of course means the break of morning, the light after the darkness. We really didn’t know that when we named her. She was my melancholy sweet girl and Mel has the most gentle voice and personality you will ever meet. But she also lights the dawn when there is darkness in my life, she has the ability to bring the light and hope of tomorrow to me. My daughter Amy Nicole was named after the godly missionary, Amy Carmichael. Our prayer was that she would have the character and passion for Jesus that Amma had. Her name means beloved and victorious. I am thankful that I did not know when she was born how she would have to be victorious. Amy has had to face and conquer things that as a parent you hope and pray never come to your child. But she is victorious and passionate about Christ. Then there is Matthew. We named him that knowing full well that the name means Gift of Jehovah. Because he was just that, God’s idea, not mine. And you know how God’s ideas are higher and better than ours? Well, yeah, that’s my boy. He was the easiest going kid and still to this day is a gift to my heart straight from my Father’s heart. Then there is Crystal. We adopted Crystal when she was 12 and we were prepared for the drama that adopting an older child is suppose to come with. But really there has been very little and mostly because her personality is so sparkly bright, she is our Crystal, and in truth she is a diamond, because she has come through the fire and pressure of life that no little one should have to endure and still she shines and sparkles with sincerity of heart and clear bright joy. And then there is Timothy. One who honors God. We hope that his name carries some of who we are as well as being demonstrated in Tim’s life. What more could we ask for as parents?
I share that in hope that you will see that speaking a name carries a meaning, it has weight when we call someone “follower of Christ” or “gentle darkness and light” “beloved victory”, “gift of God”, “brilliant gem”, and “one who honors God”.
When we speak to God His name also carries weight and the impact of what we say is felt in ways we may not understand or recognize. There are well over 55 names and titles for God in the Bible. Some of them you would recognize immediately, others you may not have heard before.
For me, as a woman, the name El Shaddai has carried great comfort and promise. The name is translated God Almighty. A short study of the Hebrew words offers something much deeper than those words imply in English. Step with me into deeper water for a moment.
Our God presents himself to us as Father, a name that should speak of protection, of tender love, and of authority. Have you noticed that fathers usually do not need to shout or raise their voice very often? There is something in the authority of his voice that causes the child to listen and give heed. And so it is with our Father. He whispers to us in a still small voice and we can miss it if we do not learn to heed it. God presents himself to us in masculine terms so that we begin to understand the authority that lies behind it.
But the word shaddai in Hebrew is a feminine form and is derived from the same word as breast. It literally means to shed forth. Shed forth what? Think about the connection for a minute.
Did you know that mother’s milk is so perfectly suited to her infant’s needs that the child does not need anything else for nourishment for the first 12 months of life! It provides immunity, it feeds perfectly, it comforts. It sheds forth all that the child needs as the mother holds her baby and nurses the child. Her baby needs her. And God chose this root word to represent Himself in the name God Almighty.
When I think Almighty, I think of powerful, magnificence, complete control and authority. But God connected the name to the tender love of a young mother for her infant, the gentle flow of protection and provision that comes as a natural result of becoming a mom, because He sees us with that kind of tenderness. We are His precious little ones and He treasures us like a new mother treasures the perfection of her little one. His provision for us flows like mother’s milk in connection to our needs. Listen to the language of your Father toward you:
For he that touches you touches the apple of my eye. (Zech. 2:8)
I have carved you into the palms of my hand and your walls are continually before me. (Is. 49: 16)
Before you were born I knew you. (Ps. 139:15-16)
He keeps a record of our sorrow and our tears (ps. 56:8)
His child (1John 3:1)
A royal priesthood, a holy nation (1 Peter 2:9)
Loved (John 3:16)
The Bible says he rejoices over his people.
He Inhabits the praise of his people.
He delights in his people.
Over and over we are shown that he loves us and in the passage in Isaiah quoted above, he says even if a mother forgets her suckling child, he will not forget us. We are his, created by his hand, and bought with the blood of The Son.
And in the gentle language of scripture for those who will look, he has given us a name that indicates that while we relate to Him as our Father, he has the tenderness of a mother also and understands women, for in the spirit there is neither male nor female (Gal. 3:28; Matt. 22:30).
Did you know that names are important to God? Names are important because they convey a message.
Think about your own name. Do you know its meaning? Take mine for example, Cheryll, means graceful. Although not evident now, I was a dancer for years and that requires an amount of natural gracefulness. My daughter Kristin’s name was prophetic of my salvation. Her name means Christian, follower of Christ and her middle name Renee means born again. It was for this child I started attending church again and pursuing Christ. My daughter Melanie Dawn’s name means darkness and gentleness and Dawn of course means the break of morning, the light after the darkness. We really didn’t know that when we named her. She was my melancholy sweet girl and Mel has the most gentle voice and personality you will ever meet. But she also lights the dawn when there is darkness in my life, she has the ability to bring the light and hope of tomorrow to me. My daughter Amy Nicole was named after the godly missionary, Amy Carmichael. Our prayer was that she would have the character and passion for Jesus that Amma had. Her name means beloved and victorious. I am thankful that I did not know when she was born how she would have to be victorious. Amy has had to face and conquer things that as a parent you hope and pray never come to your child. But she is victorious and passionate about Christ. Then there is Matthew. We named him that knowing full well that the name means Gift of Jehovah. Because he was just that, God’s idea, not mine. And you know how God’s ideas are higher and better than ours? Well, yeah, that’s my boy. He was the easiest going kid and still to this day is a gift to my heart straight from my Father’s heart. Then there is Crystal. We adopted Crystal when she was 12 and we were prepared for the drama that adopting an older child is suppose to come with. But really there has been very little and mostly because her personality is so sparkly bright, she is our Crystal, and in truth she is a diamond, because she has come through the fire and pressure of life that no little one should have to endure and still she shines and sparkles with sincerity of heart and clear bright joy. And then there is Timothy. One who honors God. We hope that his name carries some of who we are as well as being demonstrated in Tim’s life. What more could we ask for as parents?
I share that in hope that you will see that speaking a name carries a meaning, it has weight when we call someone “follower of Christ” or “gentle darkness and light” “beloved victory”, “gift of God”, “brilliant gem”, and “one who honors God”.
When we speak to God His name also carries weight and the impact of what we say is felt in ways we may not understand or recognize. There are well over 55 names and titles for God in the Bible. Some of them you would recognize immediately, others you may not have heard before.
For me, as a woman, the name El Shaddai has carried great comfort and promise. The name is translated God Almighty. A short study of the Hebrew words offers something much deeper than those words imply in English. Step with me into deeper water for a moment.
Our God presents himself to us as Father, a name that should speak of protection, of tender love, and of authority. Have you noticed that fathers usually do not need to shout or raise their voice very often? There is something in the authority of his voice that causes the child to listen and give heed. And so it is with our Father. He whispers to us in a still small voice and we can miss it if we do not learn to heed it. God presents himself to us in masculine terms so that we begin to understand the authority that lies behind it.
But the word shaddai in Hebrew is a feminine form and is derived from the same word as breast. It literally means to shed forth. Shed forth what? Think about the connection for a minute.
Did you know that mother’s milk is so perfectly suited to her infant’s needs that the child does not need anything else for nourishment for the first 12 months of life! It provides immunity, it feeds perfectly, it comforts. It sheds forth all that the child needs as the mother holds her baby and nurses the child. Her baby needs her. And God chose this root word to represent Himself in the name God Almighty.
When I think Almighty, I think of powerful, magnificence, complete control and authority. But God connected the name to the tender love of a young mother for her infant, the gentle flow of protection and provision that comes as a natural result of becoming a mom, because He sees us with that kind of tenderness. We are His precious little ones and He treasures us like a new mother treasures the perfection of her little one. His provision for us flows like mother’s milk in connection to our needs. Listen to the language of your Father toward you:
For he that touches you touches the apple of my eye. (Zech. 2:8)
I have carved you into the palms of my hand and your walls are continually before me. (Is. 49: 16)
Before you were born I knew you. (Ps. 139:15-16)
He keeps a record of our sorrow and our tears (ps. 56:8)
His child (1John 3:1)
A royal priesthood, a holy nation (1 Peter 2:9)
Loved (John 3:16)
The Bible says he rejoices over his people.
He Inhabits the praise of his people.
He delights in his people.
Over and over we are shown that he loves us and in the passage in Isaiah quoted above, he says even if a mother forgets her suckling child, he will not forget us. We are his, created by his hand, and bought with the blood of The Son.
And in the gentle language of scripture for those who will look, he has given us a name that indicates that while we relate to Him as our Father, he has the tenderness of a mother also and understands women, for in the spirit there is neither male nor female (Gal. 3:28; Matt. 22:30).
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
An extra one in celebration of my birthday!
I celebrated my 50th birthday on Easter Sunday this year. I got some really funny cards (mostly from my mother-in-law!) and I was treated to some very special gifts both practical and just for fun. I have celebrated with my kids, my husband, my parents, and my mother-in-law. I will celebrate some more with Rich’s sister, Ginger and her hubby, Dave later this month and in August a week of celebration with my best friend Nancy and our dear friend Lisa (who introduced us at 12 years old). I met up with a bunch of girls I went to high school with to celebrate all of us turning 50 this year and we had so much fun we’re talking about doing it again. (Meeting up that is, but turning 50 again is ok with me!)
Celebrating, planning the celebrations, being surprised by the celebrations have all been the way to turn what to some people is a difficult age to face into the most wonderful birthday I’ve had so far. But I am finding that becoming 50 is a joyful (even if somewhat doctor filled) time. I looked in the mirror recently and noticed 3 deep lines on my left cheek bone and wow, when I smile the crow’s feet dance all over my eyes! But somehow, that’s ok. I stood back and looked not at the whole of my hair, but just the top where the natural crop is shining through and realized, I really LIKE my gray hair. Now, I know that is almost un-American. But I can’t help it. I really like it! I can’t wait to grow it all out gray. I want long gray curls before I turn 55. That’s an attainable goal:0)
And I have thought about why all this aging is ok with me when I am surrounded by a culture that screams “You must do all you can to stay young, to look 20 years younger than you are!” And I think I get it a little. First of all, I had 2 grandmothers who wore their age well. I don’t mean they looked younger. Quite the opposite. My maternal grandmother, Mom Mom as most of my friends and family knew her, had silver white hair at 38 years old and was proud of it. Yet, her youthful vigor and amazing strength out-worked me, out-lasted me, time after time. She was amazing in so many ways. My paternal grandmother also gave me something to look forward to. One thing I remember is that her dark hair lasted while streaks of silver slowly began to coat through her locks. I thought she was so pretty and I never told her so. But she was as active and lively, full of life and friends right up until she passed on. I have a treasury full of sweet memories with both of them and I know that is a precious thing. More than that, I want to be that kind of grandmother. I want to be remembered by my grandchildren for the vigor and accomplishments they saw when I am 60; and I want them to remember the fun they had with me when they are turning 50 (Lord willing).
Recently our seminary class had a class on goal setting and starting with Life goals. That lesson really spun my wheels and I have moved out with intention from that point. This blog is one of the results of that class. Coming just weeks before my BIG birthday, it struck a chord.
Although our society, our culture does not honor age, scripture does. It says that children’s children are a reward, that silver hair is a crown for the “aged”; and equates age with what should have become wisdom along the way. I want to stand before my Father, before my Savior, filled up with His precious Spirit, with my long gray hair, crows’ feet, and grand canyon face crevices and hear Him say “Well done. . .enter in”. Even more, I want Him speak the name of His child, my name on His lips, and know that I have served him better in my last than in my first days. I want to know that what I leave behind simply points others to the truth of His love, of His forgiveness, of His incredible desire for us to know Him and to know that He loves us. So I plan to spend the next 40 or 50 years accomplishing these things.
I have laughed as well-wishers make comments about becoming middle aged or NOW being over the hill. I mean I don’t know how ya’ all count, but the average age for a woman in this country is 85 and half (or midway to) is not 50, sorry. As for that hill, honey, I am sliding down the other side with a woohoo and a weeeeeee slipping through my teeth as I head toward the goal line. And with what I hope is a bit of wisdom, I encourage you to count the blessings and trust Him with the pain of life; take life serious for you only go around once, but not too seriously; and if you haven’t done so, make yourself a life goal list, then get to it! If you get stuck call me, I’ve got a few ideas. Blessings. Cheri
Celebrating, planning the celebrations, being surprised by the celebrations have all been the way to turn what to some people is a difficult age to face into the most wonderful birthday I’ve had so far. But I am finding that becoming 50 is a joyful (even if somewhat doctor filled) time. I looked in the mirror recently and noticed 3 deep lines on my left cheek bone and wow, when I smile the crow’s feet dance all over my eyes! But somehow, that’s ok. I stood back and looked not at the whole of my hair, but just the top where the natural crop is shining through and realized, I really LIKE my gray hair. Now, I know that is almost un-American. But I can’t help it. I really like it! I can’t wait to grow it all out gray. I want long gray curls before I turn 55. That’s an attainable goal:0)
And I have thought about why all this aging is ok with me when I am surrounded by a culture that screams “You must do all you can to stay young, to look 20 years younger than you are!” And I think I get it a little. First of all, I had 2 grandmothers who wore their age well. I don’t mean they looked younger. Quite the opposite. My maternal grandmother, Mom Mom as most of my friends and family knew her, had silver white hair at 38 years old and was proud of it. Yet, her youthful vigor and amazing strength out-worked me, out-lasted me, time after time. She was amazing in so many ways. My paternal grandmother also gave me something to look forward to. One thing I remember is that her dark hair lasted while streaks of silver slowly began to coat through her locks. I thought she was so pretty and I never told her so. But she was as active and lively, full of life and friends right up until she passed on. I have a treasury full of sweet memories with both of them and I know that is a precious thing. More than that, I want to be that kind of grandmother. I want to be remembered by my grandchildren for the vigor and accomplishments they saw when I am 60; and I want them to remember the fun they had with me when they are turning 50 (Lord willing).
Recently our seminary class had a class on goal setting and starting with Life goals. That lesson really spun my wheels and I have moved out with intention from that point. This blog is one of the results of that class. Coming just weeks before my BIG birthday, it struck a chord.
Although our society, our culture does not honor age, scripture does. It says that children’s children are a reward, that silver hair is a crown for the “aged”; and equates age with what should have become wisdom along the way. I want to stand before my Father, before my Savior, filled up with His precious Spirit, with my long gray hair, crows’ feet, and grand canyon face crevices and hear Him say “Well done. . .enter in”. Even more, I want Him speak the name of His child, my name on His lips, and know that I have served him better in my last than in my first days. I want to know that what I leave behind simply points others to the truth of His love, of His forgiveness, of His incredible desire for us to know Him and to know that He loves us. So I plan to spend the next 40 or 50 years accomplishing these things.
I have laughed as well-wishers make comments about becoming middle aged or NOW being over the hill. I mean I don’t know how ya’ all count, but the average age for a woman in this country is 85 and half (or midway to) is not 50, sorry. As for that hill, honey, I am sliding down the other side with a woohoo and a weeeeeee slipping through my teeth as I head toward the goal line. And with what I hope is a bit of wisdom, I encourage you to count the blessings and trust Him with the pain of life; take life serious for you only go around once, but not too seriously; and if you haven’t done so, make yourself a life goal list, then get to it! If you get stuck call me, I’ve got a few ideas. Blessings. Cheri
Just wondering
I wonder as you sat there with your bread in hand
Did he think about what his betrayal meant?
And I wonder as he listened to Your voice
Did he know the grace, the mercy the Father already had sent?
Did he know you knew? Did he see it in your eyes?
Though the others were caught off guard
You were not surprised.
And I can’t help wondering if he remembered moments when
Your voice calmed the sea and your touch healed men?
And it astounds me so that he could have 3 years walked with You,
And still not believed enough to understand too.
Did he know you knew? Did he see it in your eyes?
Though the others were caught off guard
You were not surprised.
And I can’t help wondering when the cock sounded his crow
Did Peter feel Your love as his tears began to flow?
And it astounds me so that he could have declared You the Christ
And then days later not understood that price.
Did he know you knew? Did he see it in Your eyes?
Though he was caught off guard
You were not surprised.
And I can’t help wondering how I can miss a day
Standing in amazement at the price you’ve paid?
Yet, I know I’ve betrayed you and I know I’ve denied
And I’ve wondered if I get it and that I too have lied.
That I’m just like them with my tears in my eyes.
Do I know you knew? Do I see it in your eyes?
Though I was caught off guard
You were not surprised.
One of the most intriguing things about the Passion Week to me is the love of Christ toward those he knew would betray him, deny him, leave him, and disbelieve him. He knew. Yet he called Simon, “Peter”, a rock. And he gave Judas the job of treasurer! They had heard his voice, seen his miracles, walked and slept and listened and looked into the eyes of the Eternal One and they failed him, and he knew they would. He loved them. Still. Even so. And in that wonderful, honest, naked truth of the gospel I see his loving kindness toward me. There is nothing I have done; nothing I am doing; nothing I will do that He has not already seen, planned, and touched with His spirit so that it will work for my benefit, shaping me into the image of the Precious One. His resurrection astounds me deeper than I can describe. His crucifixion mortifies me in the knowledge that it was because of me and every individual “small” sin I have ever committed. But His loving kindness, His gentle mercy toward me humbles me to tears. And all of this wrapped up in one man, one week in history is too much to comprehend. But that’s ok, because He’s not caught off guard and He is not surprised. He knows I am but dust and He loves me anyway. (By the way, He feels the same about you.)
Did he think about what his betrayal meant?
And I wonder as he listened to Your voice
Did he know the grace, the mercy the Father already had sent?
Did he know you knew? Did he see it in your eyes?
Though the others were caught off guard
You were not surprised.
And I can’t help wondering if he remembered moments when
Your voice calmed the sea and your touch healed men?
And it astounds me so that he could have 3 years walked with You,
And still not believed enough to understand too.
Did he know you knew? Did he see it in your eyes?
Though the others were caught off guard
You were not surprised.
And I can’t help wondering when the cock sounded his crow
Did Peter feel Your love as his tears began to flow?
And it astounds me so that he could have declared You the Christ
And then days later not understood that price.
Did he know you knew? Did he see it in Your eyes?
Though he was caught off guard
You were not surprised.
And I can’t help wondering how I can miss a day
Standing in amazement at the price you’ve paid?
Yet, I know I’ve betrayed you and I know I’ve denied
And I’ve wondered if I get it and that I too have lied.
That I’m just like them with my tears in my eyes.
Do I know you knew? Do I see it in your eyes?
Though I was caught off guard
You were not surprised.
One of the most intriguing things about the Passion Week to me is the love of Christ toward those he knew would betray him, deny him, leave him, and disbelieve him. He knew. Yet he called Simon, “Peter”, a rock. And he gave Judas the job of treasurer! They had heard his voice, seen his miracles, walked and slept and listened and looked into the eyes of the Eternal One and they failed him, and he knew they would. He loved them. Still. Even so. And in that wonderful, honest, naked truth of the gospel I see his loving kindness toward me. There is nothing I have done; nothing I am doing; nothing I will do that He has not already seen, planned, and touched with His spirit so that it will work for my benefit, shaping me into the image of the Precious One. His resurrection astounds me deeper than I can describe. His crucifixion mortifies me in the knowledge that it was because of me and every individual “small” sin I have ever committed. But His loving kindness, His gentle mercy toward me humbles me to tears. And all of this wrapped up in one man, one week in history is too much to comprehend. But that’s ok, because He’s not caught off guard and He is not surprised. He knows I am but dust and He loves me anyway. (By the way, He feels the same about you.)
Monday, March 29, 2010
May I wash your feet?
I am not big on tradition for tradition sake or ritual activity. I understand that traditions help us carry a sense of unity with the why and the past. But often they get in the road of the why and become in and of themselves the purpose. When that happens the connection to the past and the why of the moment become what the Bible refers to as the "traditions of men" (Col. 2:8).
But there are some traditions that when experienced, especially the first time, hold such deep meaning, real connection to those who have gone before, and to the Savior also, that they leave a deep imprint on the heart. The act of the ritual itself can serve to provoke action in a manner that fulfills the intent of the instruction laid out in scripture.
One such tradition for me was that of foot washing. I know of no church that practices the ceremony of foot washing anymore. I don't object to not having a regular, every 6 week foot washing. But I do wish it happened a little more often. Only because of what it meant to me.
I was 11 years old and visiting a Seventh Day Adventist Church with a friend's family the first time I experienced it. All the men were excused to a room on the left side of the church and all the women went through the door on the right. I followed my friend into this little room where the woman were pulling off shoes and stockings. I had no idea what they were doing or why, but followed as invited. Seated barefoot in the little circle of woman and girls from probably 6 or 7 years old to woman in their 70's and 80's, there was a sense that something important was going on and that God was involved here.
The basin and the towel were brought out and the first woman knelt in front of the chair to her left. She gently lifted the woman's foot and washed it, dried it, and placed it with care back on the rug. Then she did the same with other foot. I can remember thinking,"they aren't doing that to me!" But the scripture being read as they moved from one to other gave me a feeling that I could refuse, but to do so was to miss something deeper than my young heart could grasp. And so when my friend's mom knelt down in front of me I allowed her to wash my feet. Then I took the basin and knelt in front of my friend to wash her feet in the same manner. I remember crying and not understanding the emotion at all.
Years later as a youth group leader, I felt the Holy Spirit directing us to do this with the youth. I thought "Lord, I will never get a bunch of giddy teens to take this seriously!" But what so often he speaks softly into my spirit came, "Trust me."
And so we introduced the idea to them on the week before Resurrection Sunday. The reaction was the expected. But by the time we finished there were tears in most of their eyes. The Spirit had touched us in a deep personal way.
There is a humility in allowing someone to touch and care for your feet. Now I am not talking about going to a salon and paying someone to do a pedicure. Having a friend bend over your feet, pour water, rub them, and dry them is an intimate thing that can be more than slightly uncomfortable. Being the one who does the washing is just as humbling. Yet the experience of this takes both the one willing to wash and the one willing to be washed and in that combined humility the perfect humble obedience of the One who offered it first is seen. I think that's why this simple everyday type action, simply washing feet becomes a deeply spiritual experience. It is a picture of our Beloved.
However, to take part in ritual washings was certainly not His point, and to reduce this example of servanthood to a ceremony would miss the truly spiritual part of the picture. John 13 begins with the washing of feet and moves into the prediction of betrayal and then Jesus gives us His "new command". "Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."(italics added) First, He gave the example of what loving one another means, servanthood; then he gave the command. That's how the Bible works consistently, give the picture, then the meaning or fullness of that word.
When Jesus took off His robe and wrapped Himself in the towel like the lowest of servants it shocked the disciples. Peter, in true Peter exuberance, states "no, you shall never wash my feet!" For Peter, the thought that the One who raised a man from the dead, walked on water and bid him to join in, who healed the blind and the lame, who the very voice of heaven had spoken over, for this One to wash his feet was an impossible thought. After all, Peter got it. "You are Messiah!" he had proclaimed just days before. Now, Messiah was acting as a slave, a door slave! But Jesus would not be put off, for this moment represented the impact of the command that would follow.
When we "wash" one another's feet, what are we doing? Loving one another. Revealing ourselves to be disciples of the true and living Messiah. In chapter 17 Jesus prays that our unity will be so evident that the world will recognize who He is by our love. But what does all that mean in practical terms? Simple. It means taking care of one another like you take care of family. Serving one another better than you would like for someone to serve you. Doing one step more than anticipated for the other. And doing it without expecting in return. Doing it as if the one you are serving is Jesus, because when others see us truly doing this for one another, they recognize the difference between what the world does and what true Christian love is. . . and they take a deeper look at our Savior. And I don't know about you, but that's what I want my life to be about, others seeing Jesus in me. So wash me Lord and send those whom I may also wash their feet.
But there are some traditions that when experienced, especially the first time, hold such deep meaning, real connection to those who have gone before, and to the Savior also, that they leave a deep imprint on the heart. The act of the ritual itself can serve to provoke action in a manner that fulfills the intent of the instruction laid out in scripture.
One such tradition for me was that of foot washing. I know of no church that practices the ceremony of foot washing anymore. I don't object to not having a regular, every 6 week foot washing. But I do wish it happened a little more often. Only because of what it meant to me.
I was 11 years old and visiting a Seventh Day Adventist Church with a friend's family the first time I experienced it. All the men were excused to a room on the left side of the church and all the women went through the door on the right. I followed my friend into this little room where the woman were pulling off shoes and stockings. I had no idea what they were doing or why, but followed as invited. Seated barefoot in the little circle of woman and girls from probably 6 or 7 years old to woman in their 70's and 80's, there was a sense that something important was going on and that God was involved here.
The basin and the towel were brought out and the first woman knelt in front of the chair to her left. She gently lifted the woman's foot and washed it, dried it, and placed it with care back on the rug. Then she did the same with other foot. I can remember thinking,"they aren't doing that to me!" But the scripture being read as they moved from one to other gave me a feeling that I could refuse, but to do so was to miss something deeper than my young heart could grasp. And so when my friend's mom knelt down in front of me I allowed her to wash my feet. Then I took the basin and knelt in front of my friend to wash her feet in the same manner. I remember crying and not understanding the emotion at all.
Years later as a youth group leader, I felt the Holy Spirit directing us to do this with the youth. I thought "Lord, I will never get a bunch of giddy teens to take this seriously!" But what so often he speaks softly into my spirit came, "Trust me."
And so we introduced the idea to them on the week before Resurrection Sunday. The reaction was the expected. But by the time we finished there were tears in most of their eyes. The Spirit had touched us in a deep personal way.
There is a humility in allowing someone to touch and care for your feet. Now I am not talking about going to a salon and paying someone to do a pedicure. Having a friend bend over your feet, pour water, rub them, and dry them is an intimate thing that can be more than slightly uncomfortable. Being the one who does the washing is just as humbling. Yet the experience of this takes both the one willing to wash and the one willing to be washed and in that combined humility the perfect humble obedience of the One who offered it first is seen. I think that's why this simple everyday type action, simply washing feet becomes a deeply spiritual experience. It is a picture of our Beloved.
However, to take part in ritual washings was certainly not His point, and to reduce this example of servanthood to a ceremony would miss the truly spiritual part of the picture. John 13 begins with the washing of feet and moves into the prediction of betrayal and then Jesus gives us His "new command". "Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."(italics added) First, He gave the example of what loving one another means, servanthood; then he gave the command. That's how the Bible works consistently, give the picture, then the meaning or fullness of that word.
When Jesus took off His robe and wrapped Himself in the towel like the lowest of servants it shocked the disciples. Peter, in true Peter exuberance, states "no, you shall never wash my feet!" For Peter, the thought that the One who raised a man from the dead, walked on water and bid him to join in, who healed the blind and the lame, who the very voice of heaven had spoken over, for this One to wash his feet was an impossible thought. After all, Peter got it. "You are Messiah!" he had proclaimed just days before. Now, Messiah was acting as a slave, a door slave! But Jesus would not be put off, for this moment represented the impact of the command that would follow.
When we "wash" one another's feet, what are we doing? Loving one another. Revealing ourselves to be disciples of the true and living Messiah. In chapter 17 Jesus prays that our unity will be so evident that the world will recognize who He is by our love. But what does all that mean in practical terms? Simple. It means taking care of one another like you take care of family. Serving one another better than you would like for someone to serve you. Doing one step more than anticipated for the other. And doing it without expecting in return. Doing it as if the one you are serving is Jesus, because when others see us truly doing this for one another, they recognize the difference between what the world does and what true Christian love is. . . and they take a deeper look at our Savior. And I don't know about you, but that's what I want my life to be about, others seeing Jesus in me. So wash me Lord and send those whom I may also wash their feet.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Mirror
When the Pharisees brought her, weary, clothes torn
and stood her before you, she expected your scorn.
But you did not condemn her, no you turned it around
that they might see their lives, and they might be found.
By the mirror of her sin you measured their lives
And they'd have forgiveness if they looked in your eyes.
but their hearts were hard as the stones that they held.
They missed the Messiah and a new heart as well.
So often we judge when the sin's really ours.
As he holds up a mirror and we see our own scars.
And there lies a choice that we all have to make.
We can walk away hardened or cleansed by His grace. (based on John 8:1-11)
I am often amused, often ashamed at how quickly I can judge someone else's sin only to find that it carries an imagine of something in my actions or attitudes. Have you ever noticed that? I wrote these lyrics in 1998 when studying the scripture in John 8 and noted that the woman was caught in adultry alone? Hmmm, this sin to my understanding takes two. Where was the man? Was he part of the crowd or crawling home having been let go by his buddies? And why did my Bible note that some of the earliest manuscripts do not have this portion of scripture? According to the commentaries, the early church had such an issue with adultry that some of the church leaders felt Jesus had been too easy on her. Too easy? Really?
Dragged through the streets of town, half naked at least, by an angry mob of men, accusations of her sin being shouted for the whole of the population to hear, and then stood against a wall being prepared to receive the stones to her body, she probably had no idea that this wasn't really even about her. It was about Him, a trap for Him.
Can you put yourself in her place for just a moment? The worst, most horrid thing you have done, and that secret being shouted through your street so that all could see for themselves the details of your sin. You might even be longing for those stones to relieve your ears of the accusations. Those who have brought you shove you against a wall and there is no place to run or hide; your humilation is full and your tears fall silently before unmoved hearts. And to add to this vile moment, the man sitting next to you is being called on to judge your actions.
Instead of looking at you, He looks at them. He writes something in the sand, perhaps it was the word piylegesh, concubine, or a word relating to the stealing of tithes, whatever He wrote it was most likely something to warn the accusors that they were on thin ice. And as they persist that He judge, He states "Let him who is without sin throw the first stone."
He did not say she had not done wrong nor did he say she was not worthy of death. He said to those accusing, "Are you really any different?" And what followed was the most amazing site. One by one, the older ones drop their stones and walk away. They have lived enough life to know that they were not guiltless. Then the middle age guys begin to see it too, and lastly the young, passionate ones walk away also, leaving the woman standing next to her jugdge without any knowledge of what to do now. She stands there bewildered at how death passed her by and how the words of this country rabbi have saved her life. For the first time perhaps, He looks at her, into her eyes and says "who has condemned you?"
Can you see her? Can you feel this moment of revelation with her? You should. You have had this moment when you invited this judge to be Lord of your life. "No one, sir." Can you see her eyes scanning the ground where the rocks have fallen and the empty pavement that moments before was filled with those screaming for her death. But He silenced them. Can you imagine the sense of freedom and maybe even the love and devotion toward Him? You should. It's happened to you, to me. He has pronounced me-the guilty, innocent, justified, and you also if you know Him, received His forgiveness.
"Then neither do I. Go and sin no more." I think He said those last words for us more than her. I have read those words and remembered the many times He has said this very thing to me. I can imagine that she went and left her life of sin, but then scripture doesn't give us privilege to that information. Perhaps she did, but perhaps, like many of us she slipped back into old ways. And I can't help wonder how many of those accusers went home and changed their ways that day? And what was that written in the dirt? They're all questions in my "someday in heaven" notebook.
And while I may not like to find the mirrors along the way, I have learned to appreciate them. For they show me first that I still need Him, and secondly that He cares enough still to show me, and then to prounounce me not condemned.
and stood her before you, she expected your scorn.
But you did not condemn her, no you turned it around
that they might see their lives, and they might be found.
By the mirror of her sin you measured their lives
And they'd have forgiveness if they looked in your eyes.
but their hearts were hard as the stones that they held.
They missed the Messiah and a new heart as well.
So often we judge when the sin's really ours.
As he holds up a mirror and we see our own scars.
And there lies a choice that we all have to make.
We can walk away hardened or cleansed by His grace. (based on John 8:1-11)
I am often amused, often ashamed at how quickly I can judge someone else's sin only to find that it carries an imagine of something in my actions or attitudes. Have you ever noticed that? I wrote these lyrics in 1998 when studying the scripture in John 8 and noted that the woman was caught in adultry alone? Hmmm, this sin to my understanding takes two. Where was the man? Was he part of the crowd or crawling home having been let go by his buddies? And why did my Bible note that some of the earliest manuscripts do not have this portion of scripture? According to the commentaries, the early church had such an issue with adultry that some of the church leaders felt Jesus had been too easy on her. Too easy? Really?
Dragged through the streets of town, half naked at least, by an angry mob of men, accusations of her sin being shouted for the whole of the population to hear, and then stood against a wall being prepared to receive the stones to her body, she probably had no idea that this wasn't really even about her. It was about Him, a trap for Him.
Can you put yourself in her place for just a moment? The worst, most horrid thing you have done, and that secret being shouted through your street so that all could see for themselves the details of your sin. You might even be longing for those stones to relieve your ears of the accusations. Those who have brought you shove you against a wall and there is no place to run or hide; your humilation is full and your tears fall silently before unmoved hearts. And to add to this vile moment, the man sitting next to you is being called on to judge your actions.
Instead of looking at you, He looks at them. He writes something in the sand, perhaps it was the word piylegesh, concubine, or a word relating to the stealing of tithes, whatever He wrote it was most likely something to warn the accusors that they were on thin ice. And as they persist that He judge, He states "Let him who is without sin throw the first stone."
He did not say she had not done wrong nor did he say she was not worthy of death. He said to those accusing, "Are you really any different?" And what followed was the most amazing site. One by one, the older ones drop their stones and walk away. They have lived enough life to know that they were not guiltless. Then the middle age guys begin to see it too, and lastly the young, passionate ones walk away also, leaving the woman standing next to her jugdge without any knowledge of what to do now. She stands there bewildered at how death passed her by and how the words of this country rabbi have saved her life. For the first time perhaps, He looks at her, into her eyes and says "who has condemned you?"
Can you see her? Can you feel this moment of revelation with her? You should. You have had this moment when you invited this judge to be Lord of your life. "No one, sir." Can you see her eyes scanning the ground where the rocks have fallen and the empty pavement that moments before was filled with those screaming for her death. But He silenced them. Can you imagine the sense of freedom and maybe even the love and devotion toward Him? You should. It's happened to you, to me. He has pronounced me-the guilty, innocent, justified, and you also if you know Him, received His forgiveness.
"Then neither do I. Go and sin no more." I think He said those last words for us more than her. I have read those words and remembered the many times He has said this very thing to me. I can imagine that she went and left her life of sin, but then scripture doesn't give us privilege to that information. Perhaps she did, but perhaps, like many of us she slipped back into old ways. And I can't help wonder how many of those accusers went home and changed their ways that day? And what was that written in the dirt? They're all questions in my "someday in heaven" notebook.
And while I may not like to find the mirrors along the way, I have learned to appreciate them. For they show me first that I still need Him, and secondly that He cares enough still to show me, and then to prounounce me not condemned.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Touch
The push and stretch of muscles
The flow of blood
Pressure and touch, toxin released
Pulling the strain and aches from my body.
The knots loosen
the stress is released
My body relaxes.
I know the power of this rest
For I know a deeper rest
A truer peace
Your Spirit pulls at the muscles of my spirit
Allowing the flow of Your blood
and the toxins in my spirit release
Purity and strength
Peace & rest
flow from Your touch.
Tomorrow I have an appointment with Jenn. Jenn is trained in massage therapy and will use her knowledge of muscles and their manipulation to bring a deep physical peace to my stressed body. I don't view these appointments as a treat. I see them as part of managing the affect of the stress in my life. Not that life is horrible, it is busy and stressful.
These appointments also serve as reminder to me. They remind me of the way the Holy Spirit works the truth of the love of Christ into my being until it brings a deep abiding peace that infuses my thoughts, my body, and my spirit with a deeper trust and a rest that only comes through His touch.
The flow of blood
Pressure and touch, toxin released
Pulling the strain and aches from my body.
The knots loosen
the stress is released
My body relaxes.
I know the power of this rest
For I know a deeper rest
A truer peace
Your Spirit pulls at the muscles of my spirit
Allowing the flow of Your blood
and the toxins in my spirit release
Purity and strength
Peace & rest
flow from Your touch.
Tomorrow I have an appointment with Jenn. Jenn is trained in massage therapy and will use her knowledge of muscles and their manipulation to bring a deep physical peace to my stressed body. I don't view these appointments as a treat. I see them as part of managing the affect of the stress in my life. Not that life is horrible, it is busy and stressful.
These appointments also serve as reminder to me. They remind me of the way the Holy Spirit works the truth of the love of Christ into my being until it brings a deep abiding peace that infuses my thoughts, my body, and my spirit with a deeper trust and a rest that only comes through His touch.
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