Stating the State of the Union

A few nights ago, our president shared his perspective on the State of the Union.  Maybe it’s just a new year, or perhaps it having this sort of Self-Assessment of our leadership, but I thought it was a good reminder to me of the importance to assess the state of our own personal unions from time to time. 

Thomas Paine was referenced in that speech by President Obama, “These are the times that try men’s souls.”  Yes, these times are hard.  Every day, I hear about more jobs being lost, more economic issues, out of work, food pantries being harder, charities that are barely functioning when they are needed even more.  The stress can really get to me, I am even avoiding watching the news – it’s just too overwhelming.

The overwhelmed feelings don’t go away when I look at my own life.  Lord, can we just talk about the future and what is going to happen?  Did you see that over there?  Is that going to be fixed?  Will you heal this?  Will you take away that?  Each day brings it’s own challenges and triumphs. 

I think one of the biggest struggles that I face when doing a self-assessment of my heart and spirit is the quickness to compare myself to someone else.  Whether it is admiring someone and feeling like they are gifted or achieved beyond something I can aspire to, or if it something more of a prideful nature – humph look at them.  That is when I have to be careful to “remove the plank from my eye first and make sure I am seeing clearly.”  Luke speaks of looking at someone else and pointing out what we see as a flaw, an error, a mistake, a weakness – a “speck of sawdust in their eye,” (Luke 6:42).  Sawdust in the eye – ouch!  I don’t even like the feel of eye goop in my eye.  Sawdust would be painful, I would be blinking and my eye would be watering, maybe hopping up and down.  My eye waters, the next thing I know the other eye will water in sympathy watering, my nose will run, and there goes the mascara.  But, that is just the sawdust – let’s keep reading.

“How can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when you yourself fail to see the plank in your own eye?’”

A plank?  Wait just a minute, I’m having enough eye goopy watering, nose running, by now I have stubbed my toe from running around and not being able to see.  But, a plank?  That makes me think of a sliver of wood that is wedged in that delicate area.  Forget running eyes and nose – we are talking out and out can’t see – and desperate to get that out.  How in the world am I supposed to help someone else while I’m running around trying to get this gigantic wood sliver out of my own eye? 

So, why don’t we all do this?  Why does it get easier to point out somebody else’s speck?  Our souls are quite delicate and strong as well – and the plank that gets wedged in hurts. But, over time it takes less and less attention, I get used to the pain.  I get better at ignoring it, at looking around the painful area to avoid making changes. 

Lord, please point out my planks to me.  I know I have them.  And, would you walk with me all the way, because I think the removal of them is going to hurt.

I wonder what the state of our personal and national union would look like if we worked on our planks.

St. Patrick’s Breastplate

There is an old tale, more of a fireside story than anything else about St. Patrick.  The story goes that Patrick and his followers were travelling to Tara to spread God’s message.  Enemies gathered in the wood, planning on stopping him by attacking through an ambush.  The story says that Patrick prayed a prayer of protection and that the enemy saw not Patrick and his followers go by, but a small herd of deer.  Thus, the prayer song has also been known as the Deer’s Cry. 

I arise today

Through the strength of Heaven 

Light of sun 

Radiance of moon 

Splendour of fire 

Speed of lightning 

Swiftness of wind 

Depth of the sea 

Stability of earth 

Firmness of rock

I arise today

Through Gods strength to pilot me

Gods eye to look before me 

Gods wisdom to guide me 

Gods way to lie before me 

Gods shield to protect me

From all who shall wish me ill 

Afar and a near 

Alone and in a multitude 

Against every cruel 

Merciless power 

That may oppose my body and soul

Christ with me, Christ before me,

Christ behind me, Christ in me,

Christ beneath me, Christ above me, 

Christ on my right, Christ on my left, 

Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, 

Christ when I arise, Christ to shield me

Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me 

I arise today

My alarm clock will go off, I have to get out of bed.  These words sometimes greet me in the morning as the sleep fades and the smells of coffee are lingered over.  I love the gentle reminder of the words, the strength in that we are not alone and need not rely on ourselves for strength to face the day.  Instead, relying on God, we gain strength and wisdom to move through the day.  Then, in turn when we can be transparent about this, we show God to others, we can be useful to him in his works here on earth.

Protector of the Protectors

Twila Paris wrote a beautiful song in 1984, The Warrior is a Child.  The words both confirm the beauties of God’s grace, the strength, of his armor, and that there are still wounds.  Wounds come to those in the Christian body, and when they are from inside the Christian body it can feel even harsher.  Each of us has gifts, different and yet similar in that they are meant to focus on a common purpose.  Looking at the role of a shepherd, we see someone that guides, someone who addresses wounds, someone who feeds them, and someone who protects them.

A guide helps the sheep know which way to go, the direction of the path which leads to grazing pastures and cool and clean water sources.  A shepherd addresses the wounds of his sheep.  Sometimes, the sheep will bear wounds from poor direction, chasing that elusive scent of fresh grass into a thicket of thorns.  At other times, wounds come from the sharp cut of claws and teeth from a predator.  As all living things, it is important that the sheep are fed.  But, they shouldn’t just eat any thing.  Their bodies will operate best on certain foods. 

We often need help knowing which way to go.  A fan of pro con lists, I have written many of them over the years trying to figure out decisions.  Grabbing whatever piece of paper is handy; I draw out my T and label each side.  Pro, cons – then, I start listing out all of the possible things my decision might affect.  The problem is that often, I still don’t know which way to go.  Instead, I need someone who knows the paths to give me some firm directions. 

A shepherd is responsible for the health of the sheep, meaning that their wounds must be tended.  Strong sure hands can move over that body and know what feels amiss.  Perhaps a patch has been scraped when walking in thorns.  Removal of debris from the wounds and tending to the needs fulfills the role of a healer.  Other animals may see sheep as easy prey, weak and without any defensive means.  Wolves and lions prowl, hungry and looking for prey.  Sharp claws, deadly teeth slash at the sheep and the shepherd must keep the sheep safe. But, also if an attack occurs, the survivors must be given healing touches.

Finally, there is a protector.  The shepherd who stands between the predator and the prey and defends the herd, watchful eyes and ears are required, skill with the use of the staff.  We each have a gift, and some of us are more aware of our enemies than others.  We learn to protect through prayer.  We do not rely on ourselves and our strength, but rely on God to fight for us.  It is the role of the protector to be aware, to warn, to turn things over to God. 

What do you do however when your protectors are tired? Especially, if the hurt is from within the body of Christ, the wound seems to be doubly deep, and infection of bitterness and feelings of betrayal easily set in.  What do you do then?  Yes, I do love that song by Twila Paris, as she acknowledges the hurt, but it is only in the retreat that we go to lay wounded, bruised, and broken at God’s feet.  There, and only there, we are picked up and the shepherd applies the healing ointment The wounds are cleaned, bound, and we are given a time to rest.   Then, donning the armor we resume our role.  

The Pig Market

A friend whose son was involved in the Future Farmers of America (FFA) program, spent some time raising hogs.  I got to go out to the farm hosting them once and I was amazed.  I had never been that close to pigs before, they were really big and strong!  One of them was even picking up the metal fence and dropping it with it’s snout.

There was a man who was approached with an opportunity.  He lived in the tombs and hills with an evil spirit living in him.  The man lived here, alone, because no one could control him.  He had been bound physically by a chain, even irons on his feet and no one was strong enough to keep him bound.  Instead, this man suffered alone and isolated, cutting himself and crying out.  Maybe a temporary physical pain was what he was driven to seek out, to temporarily even momentarily forget his mental and spiritual pain.

Then, the man saw Jesus at a distance.  He ran to him and fell on his knees in front of him.  Imagine the sweat pouring off of him, running hard with hope in front and fear driving him, collapsing at the feet of Jesus.  When he arrived, he shouted – not whispered, not spoke, but shouted, “What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?  Swear to God that you won’t torture me!”(Mark 5:7).  They were reacting to a voice of healing and authority.  Jesus had just said, “Come out of this man, you evil spirit!” (Mark 5:8).

Then, Jesus asks the man, “What is your name?”  The evil spirit responds “Legion, for we are many.”  And again, that man spoke, or rather the evil spirit spoke and begged Jesus again and again not to send them away.

Imagine, here is this man who has been a threat to his home town.  His family has worried, grieved, hurt, and even given up on him.  He has been alone, living in the hills and among the tombs.  A man living, walking among the dead.  Stronger than chains of iron, this spirit now throws itself in front of Jesus and pleads for mercy.  Jesus didn’t torture this man, he didn’t do anything but be present and his authority, strength, purity, holiness – they were enough in itself to reduce the strong evilness to it’s weakened state. 

There is a large herd of pigs on the hillside.  They were being kept to go to market.  The demons begged Jesus to send them to the pigs.  He gave them permission, and the evil spirits left the man and went into the pigs.  The herd reacted, around two thousands pigs rushed down the hill and into the lake.  They drowned themselves.  The people tending the pigs ran off and told them in town what had happened. 

The man now is still near Jesus, but without the demons inside of him.  I wonder what happened in the time it took for the people to be told in town and come back out to see what had happened.  It would have been a rather gory scene, pigs dead – 2000 pigs dead in a lake.  The man is now dressed and in his right mind.  I’m sure he was scarred and bruised.  But, he is now whole, healed by the King of Kings.

The people began to arrive.  They saw the man.  They saw the pigs.  They started to plead with Jesus to leave.  Leave!  They had just had a miraculous healing, yet they were terrified.  Beyond that they were unhappy with the loss of this herd of pigs.  The gain of one man’s life and the loss of a large herd of pigs.  The gain of one family and the loss of income for perhaps several families.  How do they total out?  How do they equal one for the other?  Does one mean more than the other?  Is a miracle something we should be scared of?

The unknown is often very scary, especially when it involves such a dramatic change.  I wonder if there were a few voices in the crowd who led the way, creating a mob mentality.  The approached Jesus as he was getting into his boat.  The man begged him, begged to go back with him.  Not asked or pled, but begged.  Jesus did not take the man though, instead he said, “Go home to your family and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you,” (Mark 5:19). 

The man left, he went and told in his home what Jesus had done for him and the people were “amazed.”  Amazed, the mob mentality that had led in the moment, it changed to amazement.  It changed with the story from the individual, the one who had walked through the dark tortuous days and lived to see the light.  From that, many others I’m sure were encouraged, perhaps perplexed, but encouraged. 

Do not let those who are focused on the pig market and forget the individual, who speak with the voice of a mob and not the heart of the individual, do not let them discourage you from sharing your story.  

A Cloak of Color

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, black, brown, white, grey – these are colors I remember displayed in one of my elementary classrooms, on a string of posters.  We learned our colors as they pertained to things; green grass, blue sky, white snow, and purple flowers.  However, as vocabulary and word usage grows, the way that we use colors expands. 

Despairing in darkness, passion of crimson, happy friendship of yellow, green of growth, blue of contentment, soft pinks and blues for babies, white of hope, grey of confusion. We wrap our emotions in colors, wrapping ourselves in cloaks of color.

Joseph had a cloak given to him, one that was richly ornamented.  His father gave him this to celebrate his son.  Joseph was also wrapped in a cloak of different colors with the events that happened in his life.  I think of how that robe must have looked, many different colors and textures formed together to make each part.  Wrapping that robe around his self, I would imagine that Joseph tried to get a glimpse of how it fit here and there. 

We try on different cloaks as well, as different seasons of our life come and go.  One part may be in joy and another in pain, perhaps trying to be invisible or very noticeable, practical or extravagant, we could describe them all in colors.  Yet, when we wrap that cloak around our shoulders we are deciding how we will perceive things.  Perhaps it will be through rose colored optimism, grey hazy skepticism, or somewhere between. 

Wrapping any cloak around myself, be it one of attitude or one of cloth is a choice.  Many factors can go into that choice, but it my choice and your choice to make.