Monday, December 24, 2018

12-25-2016 Seclusion


O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise.

For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it; you will not be pleased with a burnt offering.

The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.    

Psalm 51:15-17 
Seclusion: I’ve traveled to a location now where life is as quiet in its unfolding as I have ever known it to be. It is a place I have been to before and one that helps refresh my spirit. I know it to be a wonderful, but dangerous place. In the quiet of the empty folds of the world can hide untested thoughts. In the solitude of my own reckoning, there is no guarantee of wise counsel. In the waiting for right answers, there may be impatience and temptation to accept lesser solutions. Too much seclusion? Oh yes, that is always a possibility and a rocky place indeed, for there lies the barren waste of feared abandonment.

Yet, have I ever truly been alone? Has anyone? Is a single tree on the plains not rooted to a forest of nourishment beneath? Does the lone path of invention forbid the idea of your spiritual wind being whispered into my heart?

When scripture says that you knew me before I knew myself, before I could even fathom the concept of completeness and compare it to the unlit places where rebellion against your sovereignty first percolated; You had mastered them both. You are in the tempest and in the flame; in the dance of brook-waters and the shimmer of starlight. Your lessons and your presence may take any form at any time, if only I will watch, and listen for them. So why do I close my eyes and shut my ears to your song?

In this era, each of us it seems, fancy ourselves evangelists of our own invention. I’m in no way different. In my isolation, I secretly hunger for individual recognition, so I make observations about life and declare them loudly, casting them to the wind (or windows, or the internet and social media) in hopes that someone else will agree. If others do not agree, at least I’ve caught some attention and therefore am relevant.

But Lord, is relevance mine to own? Just because I can create buzz, just because I have a thought, does that make my manufactured fact a truth? Maybe, instead of first seeking the approval of others, I should seek yours? Is that the missing bridge between my isolation and a promised land of real fellowship?

Nearly 2500 years ago, a last humble prophet spoke of your good news―your preparation for a great change in the state of the spiritual and physical worlds: Then came a void. It would be 500 silent years before a new voice shook the world. That voice spoke a very old message in a very new way. As with any new approach, it had to be metered out slowly in order to be ingested by a population resistant to change. So you offered small bites for them, for us, for me, to take in: The cry of an infant born into meager circumstances; the eagerness of a young boy to understand and challenge the thinking of the day; the servitude and lessons of a rabbi who walked in purity; the offering of a sacrifice that led to perfect redemption. This patient progression was not the norm then, just as it is not the norm now.

In this age, I’m too eager to stake claim to my opinions prior to understanding their overarching impact. I want to reinvent, fitting the world to the order of my needs rather than admitting perhaps that, as inconvenient and uncomfortable as it may appear, yours is the more encompassing plan.

Jesus―giver of light, hope, and grace―will you teach me more of patient humility and submission? Will you help me distinguish the Truth of your message in comparison to the fleeting philosophies offered by a selfish creation? I want less than to conquer territory for my own purpose and desire; I seek more alertness of and responding to your voice. Help me to better hear the pleas of the neglected ones; those ignored by we who clang our drums and symbols to be heard. I long to be nourished by your living waters―that might even be found in the silent, embarrassed tears of those who are too proud or too hopeless to request relationship. I ask to serve as you would desire, not as I would self-imagine the need.

What a blessed time is this, full of obvious and raucous clamoring, when a light approaching from the horizon of my solitude can still shine into my soul, if I will only turn to deeply consider its herald:

“Prepare the way of the Lord in the wilderness.
Make a level highway in the desert for our God.”

Thank you for this quiet moment that explodes with words of peace and your wish for goodwill and relationship with mankind. May we each discover in the solitude of our individual encounter with you; the beauty of your love. And may our hearts be bowed before you in humble realization, that before we ever considered a thought of service for ourselves, or making an offering of our “better ways” to improve others; you first served us by the design of your creation and in your sacrificial offering of salvation for our proud souls.

Praying for a blessed Christmas of solitude, shalom and preparation for all,

Mark C.



Thursday, November 22, 2018

11-22-2018 Thank-Filled

O give thanks to the LORD, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever! Let the redeemed of the LORD say so, whom he has redeemed from trouble and gathered in from the lands, from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south.

Some wandered in desert wastes, finding no way to a city to dwell in; hungry and thirsty, their soul fainted within them. Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. He led them by a straight way till they reached a city to dwell in. Let them thank the LORD for his steadfast love, for his wondrous works to the children of man! For he satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul he fills with good things.

Some sat in darkness and in the shadow of death, prisoners in affliction and in irons, for they had rebelled against the words of God, and spurned the counsel of the Most High. So he bowed their hearts down with hard labor; they fell down, with none to help. Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble, and he delivered them from their distress. He brought them out of darkness and the shadow of death, and burst their bonds apart. Let them thank the LORD for his steadfast love, for his wondrous works to the children of man!

For he shatters the doors of bronze and cuts in two the bars of iron.          ―Psalm 107:1-16


Lord I keep forgetting and so, I thank You for reminding me…wait that’s wrong…thanking You is what this journal entry is all about and I cannot “thank” You―at least by my studies, not appropriately.

As I dig into the language of Your instruction, and the epiphanies of those diggers far more ancient and wiser than myself, I have been taught that the Hebrew script has no word for “thanks”. In fact the word typically used paints a picture of a far more descriptive, yet primitive act: I imagine it as someone so insignificant that they might be considered an insect to be squashed under foot. I imagine being that insect and looking up to see the mighty wonder of the foot and the Being whose foot I behold. He is so great that I cannot possibly take in His power and complexity. I prepare to die for that is my plight.

But instead, the Being reaches out with another appendage, a hand and carefully, gently picks up the insect-me. He beholds in return and speaks. I am astounded that I can understand him. He whispers (as to not destroy His creation with the power of His full voice) a word, “Yada”.

That is all. That is enough. It is a word that can only be perfectly conceived and spoken and acted upon by the Being. In my feeble reckoning and small measure I know it (through a lifetime of spiritual and mental wrestling) to mean a conjoining of many things into one: Truly intimate and passionate relationship, leading to growing familiarity, resulting in a new word: Ahav―Love. There is a Greek word which I have come to realize also describe this greatest quest for relation: Agape.

So the Great Being recognizes the insect in the most profound of ways, offering Yada. The insect at that moment has no idea of the magnitude and resulting blessing of The Gift. All the little-one can do is to offer what the little-one has in return. He picks up a stone (perhaps a pebble to the Being) and tosses it in His direction, acknowledging, out of fear and trembling, with wonder and appreciation that he, or she, has been recognized and…loved beyond understanding.

So, when I read Psalm 107, where David exclaims, “Give thanks to the Lord for he is good and his lovingkindness endures forever,” I was drawn to that word, thanks. I didn’t know what I could properly do to thank Him. I looked up the translation and the Hebrew says Yadah. Wait, Lord, to this insect that word is strangely familiar, but added-to. It is not the word You spoke on our first encounter. There is something, more. That “h” on the end is the same thing You added to Abram’s name to redefine him as Abraham―from father of height to father who worships the Higher One.

Lord God, am I to assume that Abraham and I have something in common? That we both have encountered You…respectfully perhaps, You have made Your presence known to us…and we both have tossed the pebble? And so we Yadah―recognize and honor the one who "Yadas"― Seeks a truly intimate and passionate relationship, leading to growing familiarity―us.

And it is as simple, and overwhelmingly comprehensive, as that. We cannot aptly thank You, but we can acknowledge and praise You, seeking to join You in an ongoing, on-growing relationship.

One astounding aside Lord, I am blown away at discovering the first being in the Biblical record to speak the word Yada. It was the serpent, enticing Eve to yada good and evil! And that is where the true questions begin―Is it possible that there is an Almighty Being to whom I can throw the pebble? And then Is there an antithesis, a being not almighty, but diabolical enough to entice my attention another direction? Even in the asking, there is a question―Do I have a choice in Yadah-ing One or the other? And there is one answer to it all―Of course I have a choice! True Ahav-Agape will allow nothing less.

Lord God, Maker of heaven and earth, I praise You with my pebble and appreciate as best I can that You first offered Yourself as a sacrifice-resurrected, in order that when sometimes my attention is distracted by the “other” choice, I can be forgiven.

And though I cannot properly thank You for all of this, I can be thank-filled for all You provide. My life, my family, friends, yes even turkey and all the trimmings, but most of all for Your offer of redemption and Your eternal desire for our Yada together.

Yadah to You, my God and Happy Thank-filled-Giving to you other journeyers out there.


Mark C.

Monday, October 29, 2018

10-29-2018 Getting It Right

 "You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust.

For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?

You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”  
                                                                                          ―Matthew 5:43-48

I’ve held back on writing this entry, because I wasn’t sensing the right context, until now, Lord.

The subject matter? Anti-Semitism. There as so many examples to pull from, but I’m choosing one from my latest trip to the Land, and specifically during that adventure; a visit to some newly met friends in the Hebron area. I’m going to keep names and the exact location vague for what should become obvious reasons, and I ask your wise-counsel, Master, to guide me.

The couple in question were introduced to me as Jewish believers who had opened their hearts to you, Jesus, as their Savior and King. The modern term that is commonly used to describe such people is Messianic. I’m not sure that quite encapsulates the complexities of these folks, so I’ll try to help delineate by summarizing the no-man’s land such believers dwell in. First, they are frowned upon―in some cases, shunned―by the Jewish community itself and even family; being viewed as abandoners of their “original” faith. Secondly, they are viewed with odd suspicion by some contemporary Christians who have not properly studied, nor understand the distinction this group represents Biblically (Yes, Lord, I have heard you – these are a portion of the “Remnant” coming to age). Thirdly, they are doubly condemned by radicalized sects within the Muslim faith and to some nationalistic-socialist factions for what is perceived as a bastardization of God’s edicts.

I confess Lord, the courage of my friends, along with others like them, and their commitment to their faith amazes me. But I have also been concerned in the recent past that in some cases, this clannish sector of believers purposely set themselves apart from those (like me) who desire genuine spiritual fellowship. Messianics, as I have experienced them, can be prone to expect we Non-Jews to embrace and live out the more fundamental constructs of the rabbinical faith. Consequently, it is the same issue that James, Paul, Peter and the Jerusalem Council had to work through as referenced in the book of Acts, chapter 15. Ironically in contrast, modern society also expects Jews and Messianics to be somehow invisible in their practices. And when they do become noticed; they are punished as evidenced by countless persecutions.

Lord, all of this is not to protest our differences, but to celebrate how one Messianic couple is standing against segregational, anti…any-group’s kind of thinking. They are doing it by the most simple of methods, plying their simple gift of hospitality. These two invited our traveling group into their home, located very close to the town of Hebron in the southern Negev. Right away I knew this would be a remarkable encounter because their home is near to a Palestinian border area wherein factions of the Palestinian Liberation Organization and other anti-Jewish groups encourage such things as mortar attacks and fire-kites being flown into and released to burn the Land. Even the tombs of the Patriarchs, including the resting places of Abraham and Sarah are cordoned off and claimed as exclusive sites for West Bank inhabitants, while access for Jews is forbidden. Such are the conditions near the homestead of (whom I will call) Isaac and Rebecca. You, Lord, know and bless their true identities.

Isaac and Rebecca hold a weekly Shabbat gathering that is well attended, but in our case, they made special accommodations for us in the middle of the week. I had never been to this area of Israel and was not sure what we would encounter. We were there on the very week when a number of incendiaries had been launched and caused fires in the area. But the neighborhood we drove to spoke of peace and tranquility. Even more so, the home of I and R. They greeted us with embraces, food and, particularly Rebecca welcomed us as if we were familiar family members who had come for one of many visits. I felt, walking into this first encounter as if I had known her and Isaac for many long years.

We ate, we sang, Isaac shared a deep-rooted teaching; I have to admit, though I remember it all being poignant, it was not any one word or a moment that captured my interest. It was the sharing heart of this Messianic couple―non-judgmental even to the Muslims that would condemn them; inviting souls, sincerely sharing love with others―that melted any misgivings I might have held walking into this place.

Don’t get me wrong, Lord, I’ve experienced warm hospitality before, but this…was something more, something you enhanced. I would call it universal, but I’m not sure that even covers it. After all, you chose one family, Israel not just to dwell with you, but to share; to testify. You did not intend a conquering, racial extermination or genocide of the other families, but an invitation to a communion of the SAME. Rebecca and Isaac were to me an example of the spiritual salve you desire to be spread throughout the world―overcoming differences with kindness, humility and sincere compassion for the wellbeing of others…for me.

And in this time of terror tactics, where hatred is shouted as a banner of pride, the whisper of true love offered within the peaceful garden known as Rebecca and Isaac’s home shocks me into the realm of spiritual hope―a place where no bullet or weapon or word can kill what you have breathed life into.

I desperately needed to be in that place at that time, Lord. You wanted me to be in that place; drawing nearer to the Kingdom, knowing that battles rage around us, worldwide. Yet by the hospitality of our new found friends, and by your grace, I am healed of my fear and strengthened in my courage so that now I can stare the enemy square in the face and say with sincere hospitality, “My God reigns―his love can save even you, because it has saved me; it has saved Isaac and Rebecca. Don’t fight us, join us.”

Amen

Mark C.

Read more on the subject of seeking honest relationship with others in Mark’s new book, Marginalized, found at www.RUTmanagement.com.



Wednesday, October 3, 2018

10-3-2018 Intertwined

“For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?

            You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”  Matthew 5:46-48 



Well Lord, that was quite an experiencevisiting my son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter in Seoul. You always find such extraordinary ways to help me step outside of my comfort zone. I am adequately reminded of what it feels like to be the alien-visitor, rather than to receive the alien-visitor. I was most certainly the stranger in a strange and wonderful land.

And, as with visiting your land, Israel, I discovered new perspectives; such as how 23 million people can peacefully cohabitate a city within a land area less than that of New York City. I watched as people drove, shopped, lived and interacted without much incident at all. Yes, there were the two near misses of vehicles trying to wedge their way ahead of my son’s car, and there were the tolerances for people waiting for and riding in the mass transit system; but I was not in control of those things and I suspect most of the horde around me would admit the same.

I was amazed at how people would shop for food, place it in a cart, and then leave their stash outside the market to go shopping elsewhere without concern that their purchase might disappear before their return. It just doesn’t happen in Seoul. I found myself rising early in the morning, prior to the sun rising and climbing to a nearby park, feeling completely at ease without regard to my safety. Apparently, there are other early risers who feel the same, for I crossed paths with a good number of joggers, exercisers, meditators, and millers-about who appeared to feel equally relaxed.
There was a politeness to the order as well. I was most certainly not a native, but people nodded and sometimes even engaged me in a combination of Kor-English and sign-language to offer greetings and inquire as to where I was from. Curiosity is universal.

Speaking of that, Lord, I have become curious as to how the order of this place came about. I understand that, for a civilization to survive in such tight quarters, certain physical freedoms must be sacrificedno plastic in the paper trash container, no food waste unwrapped, etc. But surely there are times of chaos and rebellion that have arisen, and still must. I’m told of them, and that such events can get as ugly in the Republic of Korea as anywhere else on the planet. Does a mass such as this react differently when things go array?
I live in a place where many assumptions about order occur. I am occasionally known to exceed the speed limit on the road. We don’t have to recycle our trash if we choose not to. I have great freedom to cross borders and to object to; even argue against my community’s ordinances. If I am offended, I may assume that right and take a different stand, as I also afford that right to my neighbors.  If things get overly contentious; compromise is the typical starting point toward reconciliation.

But in a place where there are so many people, if a disagreement surfaces, what happens to the order? Lord, I mentioned the politeness of the culture and I noticed something regarding Asian culture that may answer to the question of disagreement. I wonder if the people of Korea really “know” one another.  Maybe I should take the question further…do people anywhere really “know” one another?
Sure, we recognize and predict future outcomes based on historical behavior, actions, common heritage, and family traits. We shape our relationships from these things. But what I’m talking about is morethe “deep-soul” understanding between and among us. Some might even call it a spiritual understanding; one to another, that comes from constant intercession, one to another; and persistent dialogue pursuing the higher, the more difficult, and the more uncomfortable questions of life.

How do I measure up in this questioning, Lord? Within my family structure, within my circle of friends, with you, do I strive to truly “know”, or do I just superficially associate with others in order to peaceably coexist? Korea taught me as much about my own subtle tendencies as it did about Eastern world nuances. I have to confess that I’m a “work-in-progress”, lazy in my pursuit of understanding the individuals I interact with on a regular and infrequent basis.

Is this why we are so prone to dismiss, minimize or even ridicule others around us whom we claim are different from ourselves? Where is the order in my concern for the dignity of my fellow humans? I have relegated them to pawns for my convenience and my selfish purposes, rather than testing my beliefs by better understanding theirs. Dare I ask if the same stereotypical bullets are shot my way by others, hoping to wound or eliminate my contributions rather than laying down their attack weapons, taking true interest in my history and values?

Lord, you know best of alleach of us. You took individual interest in each of our lives, sacrificing your own, becoming the exclusive example of one desiring deep communion with us, regardless of our personal depravity. Regardless of my reluctance to better know my fellows and their reluctance to know me; shouldn’t we, by your example, be fighting with every fiber to intertwine our lives, bonding for strength, not cutting ourselves apart?

Words: all of this is rhetoric until we stop excusing our behavior based on the premise that, as with the Koreans, there are just too many of us to manage such an approach to relationship. But, Jesus, am I wrong to suggest that it only takes one, reaching out to another one, to begin such a movement?

Shalom,


Mark C.

Sunday, August 26, 2018

8-26-2018 Tomorrow's Bread

“Give us this day...” ―Matthew 6:11a

“That’s what you should do.”

Lord, this is how it typically starts―your not-so-subtle calls, coming out of the mouths of my friends, family, and supporters. They hear me spout off on some idea, patiently listening, waiting for me to eventually (hopefully) gel my thoughts into some kind of coherent concept. Most often, they then nod politely, indicating that my hypothesis is not necessarily inspiring them the way it does me. But occasionally, seemingly accidentally (certainly not by my design―if it were, it would happen much more frequently!), my ramblings resonate and the listening party will exclaim in one form or another, “Yes!” then encourage me to develop and share the notion.

I’ve learned to heed these directives. They seem to coincide with times when I have already charged ahead on some other course and am fully engaged chasing whatever dream d’jour I’ve convinced myself will keep me out of trouble for the moment. Out of the blue, I’ll blurt out to someone, a nugget that seems completely off the path from where I’m focused; and that’s when you speak through them, “That’s what you should do.”

What? I’m already busy! I’m already doing what I think you want me to do. I have no time, I have other plans, I have…I am…resisting you. As a matter of fact, when such challenging invitations occur―when confirmed by scriptural scrutiny―I’m confident it’s you speaking into me via another vessel.
Long story short, Lord, I recognize you did it again today. A friend and I were sipping coffee and casually talking about, among other things, your Prayer, spoke by you in Matthew 6 and Luke 11. I nonchalantly mentioned the Greek word used for “daily” being epiousios which I had discovered translates better as tomorrow rather than daily and coincides with an Old Testament illustration. You provided enough manna…nourishment for the Israelites…to feed them for the day and also for the following Sabbath, so that the people could rest in your presence rather than worry about toiling, at least one day out of the week. So, when I say the prayer, that particular portion more often than not comes out as, “Give us this day, tomorrow’s bread.”

My friend stared at me for a moment before reacting, “That’s what you need to do! You need to write a book of devotions based on God providing what we need in advance of when we need it.”

I do? I remember thinking. I’ve already started on another new book idea and have spent valuable time in research. There are other people better suited to writing devotionals; that’s never been a “thing” for me. Besides, Patti and I are about to embark on a trip half-way around the world to visit our son and their family in Korea. When we get back, I'll have blogs to blog,  I'll need to focus on ministry and work and…on and on. I can’t just up and switch gears; that would interfere with my personally pre-planned purpose. That would be against my practice of RUT Management, wouldn’t it?

Ordinarily, veering onto another course would be counter-productive, except of course when you offer a spiritual shoulder-tap to inform me I’m on the wrong RUT path and am offering more excuses for the “why not” rather than exploring the “why”. You are the only One so adept at pin-pointing those times. I’m coming to know your voice better, Teacher.

So, that’s what I should do. That’s what I need to do. That’s what I will do. And here it begins.

I’ll start with the very provision in the prayer that includes with your will being done. Lord, bestow to me this day, tomorrow’s feeding, that I can rest and reflect in it, dwell in it, learn from it and share it with any who desire to know you and your way, better. I ask, that as I go about my daily routine, you lead me beside still waters to nourish me with whatever wisdom you choose to reveal, that I may be lead on a path of righteousness, for your name’s sake.

Who knows, maybe this will resonate with others as well. That is for you to know, and for this servant to find out.

Amen.


Mark C. 

Sunday, August 5, 2018

8-5-2018 Shalom from Shoah

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad; the desert shall rejoice and blossom like the crocus; it shall blossom abundantly and rejoice with joy and singing. The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon. They shall see the glory of the LORD, the majesty of our God.

Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who have an anxious heart, "Be strong; fear not! Behold, your God will come with vengeance, with the recompense of God. He will come and save you."

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then shall the lame man leap like a deer, and the tongue of the mute sing for joy. For waters break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water; in the haunt of jackals, where they lie down, the grass shall become reeds and rushes.

And a highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Way of Holiness; the unclean shall not pass over it. It shall belong to those who walk on the way; even if they are fools, they shall not go astray. 

No lion shall be there, nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it; they shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there. And the ransomed of the LORD shall return and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain gladness and joy, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away. ―Isaiah 35

I’ve got a commission Lord! After our first days in the land, I pulled our group together to take the pulse of our venture to-date. “You’ve seen some great things so far and today we have some extra time. Is there anything or place you would like to focus on?

“Jesus,” came the group reply. A singular focus. It seems that all the forward-thinking planning on what inspires in your land; it all boils down to the hearts and minds of those who are seeking inspiration. To a person, this group was…is unique. They expressed gratefulness at visiting ruins and hearing historical context, but it seems there was just one thing they wanted more of.

Not that this was a problem whatsoever. I was thrilled actually. But it did require some adjustments and quick calls to pull in other sites more focused on your earthly ministry. Simple enough, right? Until I looked at our existing itinerary and remembered that our next day entailed a visitation to Yad Vashem; what Westerners typically refer to as The Israel Holocaust Museum. How does that coalesce with a focus on You, son of God?

I can answer the question safely now because you, Lord walked me through the issue. First, the place, Yad Vashem is not only about the Holocaust―the elimination of 6 million Jews during WWII. It is ALL about the sufferings of those (mostly Jews, but also others) who did not recognize Hitler as the supreme power. The better term for that suffering of the survivors, is the Hebrew word―Shoah which aptly translates as Calamity.

Second, the Shoah and the Holocaust are events you are personally aware of. Not only did you experience both during your own physical lifetime, but your Spirit was engaged in preparing those who suffered and even raising up protectors during those very dark days of the Twentieth Century. Of course, the bitterness with which some view your work then, is still palpable. “Why didn’t God step in to save the victims? No Supreme Being would allow such terrible suffering,” I have heard expressed from dark voices seeping from cynical minds.

And who can argue? It was terrible. All suffering is. Even yours…especially yours. I’d say that the most terrible suffering was on the cross, when you chose to die for people who were blaming you even then for not stepping in to save them―So Ironic. Yet as I think on it, I believe there was an even more terrible day of strife; when, in the Beginning, you breathed life into human beings who were given the perfect opportunity to commune with you…and they chose to separate themselves from you. I can’t know that kind of ripping from the spiritual womb. By the time I arrived on the scene, I was born ripped apart. Now I’m trying desperately to figure out, not why you would let the Holocaust and Shoah (my Shoah too) play out, but why you would not have wiped the slate clean and started a new more acquiescing creation.

And in that question is knitted your incredible answer. You knew us (intimately) before we knew ourselves; fashioned with a free-will choice to say “yes” or “no” to your existence. Why are we so surprised that when we say “no” and live out that lifestyle, terrible things happen? Floods happen, Romans happen, Hitlers happen; The current state of post-modern thinking and practices happens; We―divided and arrogant, and selfish and proud―happen: Amazing that we blame that on you.

Hmmm, so my worries about providing an experience at Yad Vashem that would speak to your life, lived, bled and resurrected, Jesus, were unfounded. We saw you there and we experienced your hand of desired relationship extended to all: victims, perpetrators and spectators. You offer the answer we all seek. Do we really want to hear it, submit to it? How unfair that you, King of the universe should be the one making the rules: we want our own rules with none of the consequences. And so the Shoah goes…on and on and...

Lord on our visit to your land, in that place of specific tragic memories, I found hope. People keep coming. They are helped to not forget that such atrocity can happen again. Some who visit even dedicate themselves to seeking you more deeply, earnestly considering if you do or do not exist―in that, there is great hope for restoration.

I pray others find the answer as I have found the answer. I pray as we prayed that day, that this moment, all moments, are all about you Jesus, bringer of Shalom from Shoah.

Amen,

Mark C.



Sunday, July 22, 2018

7-22-2018 The Real Sepulcher

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb, taking the spices they had prepared. And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus. While they were perplexed about this, behold, two men stood by them in dazzling apparel. And as they were frightened and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to them, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? ―Luke 24:1-5

So Lord, what is a sepulcher anyway and how can one of them be holy? I had wondered this the first time I visited the presumed site of your burial and resurrection, a place quite frankly that does not bring me a high degree of comfort or peace. The building that now entombs the tomb seems dark and foreboding to me; the antithesis of the great outcome that occurred millennia ago by your design.

I looked up Webster’s definition and so I know that a tomb carved from rock is the basic premise. I also know that the fact you temporarily inhabited the space, then resurrected and vacated its confines is reasonable cause to call it holy. However, upon my third visit to this location which appears to stir others far more than it does me, I find myself considering other aspects of holiness.

If this is a site you deem holy, why am I not “feeling it” as I have at other powerful locations? Is that an issue with my spiritual condition? Are there other factors at play? Could it be that the holiness of this place is not conferred by you, but pronounced by Christendom’s order? After all, even if this spot is the “real deal”, your body is nowhere to be found. This is a place of memories, not present-day activity. The same can be said of other sites―Shiloh as an example―where I am much more spiritually moved. I’m sure there are folks who will argue just the opposite, that the Holy Sepulcher is profound to them whereas an open archeological dig bears less impact. So if a site is holy, shouldn’t each of us be equally struck with the same force of its power?

I think the answer is based not on the term holy, but perhaps on what other words are associated with that term. Might it be that a site is not holy, but a dwelling is? Could it be that people don’t go somewhere to meet you, but that you meet people where you choose, where you can stir them most?

On our third day in the land, such a stirring took place. Not at the tomb, but in a modest chapel, built long after your physical walk on the planet. Our group attended a service that day at Christ Church near the Jaffa Gate entrance to the Old City. It’s a favorite place of mine and though you never corporeally entered its doors or sat in a pew. I sense your presence here every time I worship within its walls. Apparently so do others from all nations, because the music sung here and the words of affirmation are pronounced in multiple languages and accents by people of many races and colors. It is a place of living faith made bright by the expression given out of most participants.

It is from this worship-filled place that I guided our clan to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Lord, I tried not to influence anyone’s opinion prior to the comparison. It seemed best to let each draw their own conclusion. We wove through the masses who had come to absorb the import of the structure and its story. We watched as people knelt to kiss and touch the stones and lit candles for prayers hoped to be answered in some new and special way. We took in the gothic architecture which seemed so foreign to me (and I suspect to you, considering it was constructed long after your visit here). We exited and I could see the look of confusion on the faces of all our party.

“That place was so depressing,” summed up their experience. Disappointment was their combined conclusion. The place of your greatest accomplishment for us had been imprisoned by those whose original intent had been to protect its significance―guard and glorify its gravity.

We later regrouped at our apartment and tried to make sense of the comparison; Christ Church to the Sepulcher. We wanted to be respectful in our conclusions. After all, haven’t each of us, Lord, strived to protect iconic experiences and encounters in our lives by wrapping them within sacred memorials of protection? Even those who reject spirituality erect ideological monuments in effort to defend their ramparts of religious protocols. So, circling back to the original quandary: What makes something or someplace holy, and If it is holy to me, why not to others?

I’ve concluded that the question itself carries danger in its expression, much like the question asked of the Angel, by Joshua, prior to the siege of Jericho; “Are you for us, or for our adversaries?” In other words, Whose side are you on? I hear a deeper question behind the question, “Whose values, monuments and lifestyle are more holy?”

The Angel’s answer placed all holiness in the proper perspective. “No. (by implication―neither), but I am the commander of the Lord’s army.” You God pulled rank on Josh, just as you do on us, declaring only one Creator and bestower of purity.

And now it all comes around, not to the site or the heart, but to the inspiring influence, your Spirit, who instills in each of us, the spark that ignites when the moment and place are right; so that in you, anywhere and anyone can be holy. It doesn’t have to a location of my choosing or approval, it is yours and yours alone to decide for each of us.

My conclusion may drive some readers mad, Lord. Who am I to suggest to them only one Holy Demarcationer? I won’t answer, but I will encourage those naysayers to prove me incorrect, not by condemnation, but by exploration. After all, isn’t discovering the holiness of ones journey what the journey is all about? What if…what if; the discovery of holiness is not all about me or any of us? What if there actually is a Holy One? Are we each courageous enough to give the idea honest, holy consideration?

If I dare to consider the question, I may also emerge from the sepulcher of my prejudices to finally meet you in the holy daylight of worship. I wonder, Lord, who will join me?
Mark C.

Sunday, July 8, 2018

7-7-2018 Elijah and the Ice Cream Truck

Then the Lord said to Samuel, “Behold, I am about to do a thing in Israel at which the two ears of everyone who hears it will tingle. —1Sam 11.

Now I know for certain that there is a spiritual realm with forces outside of my control, good, evil and…well, I just don’t know. But you do, so help me figure this one out, Lord.

The day following our confrontation with an “unfriendly” at the Christ Church gate and our border crossing challenge related to the Tour D’Italy bike race, we charged on with anticipation. The itinerary was well mapped out with a trip up to Cesarea Marittima, Elijah’s Lookout and Megiddo. Two of the destinations I had previously visited and so was confident in guiding our group in discovery. The other, Elijiah’s Lookout on Mt. Carmel was a new opportunity for me as well. I had studied up, best as I could on the mapped routes to each and had boned up on their histories. Now was my chance to demonstrate my acumen for your land. This would be a good and well-orchestrated journey.

In other words, I had not counted on your Spirit’s intervention—other plans, not exactly matched to mine. We were destined for glitches right from the start. Once arrived at Caesarea, we eagerly approached the entrance gate. I had already heralded this site as extra special because it was the home of the first recorded Gentile convert in the book of Acts, none other than…Cornelius! As I chattered on about Paul’s imprisonment experience in this place as well, the gate attendant mentioned nonchalantly, “It’s a good thing you got here when you did.”

We all turned our heads immediately her direction and she took the cue, “The Tour D’Italy will be running their bicycle race through the town starting at noon.”

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. We had just been alerted by this unassuming watchwoman that we had exactly ninety minutes to walk through an excavation site more than two miles in circumference. The look on everyone’s faces (and I was informed by others that my countenance too was evident) said it all. We did NOT want to be forced-spectators two days in a row. 

Our gang quickly came together and we discussed the options. Lord, I confess that I probably had built up the anticipation of this place significantly, but I claim your inspiration in the matter. You had turned me on to the history of the stadia, the amphitheater, the dwellings, the aqueduct and the culture of this place. You infused a sense of connection in the concept that perhaps, just perhaps, that first Cornelius and I have a blood and certainly a spiritual connection. You gave me a love for the seaside and a curiosity for antiquities. I perhaps zealously passed this on to our crew and they wanted to take in as much as possible before our rushed exit.

On that note, trying to regather seven eager explorers who had independently dispersed was an act I liken to herding cats. Still, we all made it back to our van and out of the area prior to the two-wheeling onslaught. Our next stop: Elijah’s Lookout; a spot on Mt. Carmel noted to be the location where the man of YHWH took on the Baal prophets in a demonstration of your supremacy. I know what a sticky issue this remains to this day, Lord, as many people have tried to dilute your authority by claiming God is all gods. It seems in our efforts to be inclusive; we are reluctant to consider the same thing the Baal worshipers failed at—that, perhaps, just perhaps, there may be One who is clearly identifiable as HaShem—The Name—and that denying you as Sovereign might turn out as badly for us as it did for those folks. Some people don’t like to hear me say stuff like that, Master: What’s a believer to do?

Back to our travels that day—the challenge, we discovered with Mt. Carmel is that it is better described as Mts. Carmel with numerous peaks and speculation rather than demarcation as to where the sacrificial flaming took place. GPS had just as much trouble figuring out the likely location as we did, and with no historical markers to suggest otherwise, we pulled in at a remote highland spot where we noticed some parked cars. It turned out to be a nicely shaded campground and we could imagine Elijah nodding his head that this would be a good place to show the world that you are Elohim Echad.

Under the covering of a broom tree, I felt inspired to read the account in 1 Kings 18 to the group and that’s when you showed up, again in the strangest of ways. A woman from one of the camp sites invited herself into our midst with a plate of dates, ginger, and sweet spices, offering each of us a taste. Her name was Shoshana which translates as Rose, and so she was, Lord. Her warm hospitality spoke to the beauty of your people, a contrast to the reading which suggested at one time, great division. The verbal communication in our day, with our newfound friend, was clumsy, but the message was clear, Israel is a place of fresh, renewed invitation.

Just as we were delighting in this moment, you raised the bar. Somewhere in the background, music began to faintly tinkle. It was familiar, but oddly out of place in this venue. The tune slowly grew in volume and I could make out the Blue Danube Waltz by Strauss. Lord your sense of humor is so vast. It was not the music that was strange, but the producer. Up and around the corner of this isolated mountain vista appears a bright aqua-blue ice cream truck (and I bet all of you reading along can hear in your minds not only the music, but the timber of the truck speakers, the slight warble of the recording—what joy can be found in one’s memories)! All of the Hebrew inscriptions on the sides of the vehicle were unnecessary—pictures instead announced the perfect message of cool refreshment on this warm day.

Everyone, including Rose, was lured by the waltz to its terminus and we each eagerly purchased our preferred portion of (what do you call Americana in the land?)…Israelana. In this strange way, we were able to repay the generosity of our new friend, offering to buy her frozen treat. God of the universe, you own the unexpected and teach us by it, that you give your messengers the power to light fires on logs saturated with water, and you provide clever ways to join people in international fellowship to the purpose of your glory. How do I know that your purpose was and is served in this day? Your word was spoken out loud in prayer by all of us surrounding the ice-cream truck; simple, edifying; unifying us all and affirming that you too can share a good time.

Our day concluded with an odyssey to Megiddo, one of the most provocative places on the planet where more wars and conflicts have been manifested than anywhere in the written records. I have written of this hotspot before, now a peaceful, dormant monument; yet awaiting The Day prophesied to come; a culminating battle when you will speak your final word to a rebellious world. Knowing that, as a child in Nazareth, you could observe this place and know its future significance astounds me, and impressed our group in that moment. We left the place awed by the vastness of your plan; you being ever present even in orchestrating the lessons we were absorbing…

—And to give us that extra time to consider these things, you managed another comical wink. Exiting the Megiddo archeological site, we were immediately enveloped in a two-hour traffic jam caused by Tour D’Italy enthusiasts returning from Caesarea Marittima to Jerusalem. I hoped they had as profound an experience as we had—but I suspect not.

Even with the traffic, the travel time seemed to pass quickly as we reviewed the excursion, sharing laughter and song. You, the God of unpredictable paradoxical interactions; you the joiner, the forgiver and the judge; you the Father and the son, were there in the van with us, your Spirit preparing us for even greater adventures to come.

Thanks for the day, Lord. Thanks for the prize and surprise of it all.

Amen,


Mark C.