February 2019

Word art by Kaylene

I recently heard a very challenging sermon given at my church, by guest speaker Caleb Kaltenbach, entitled: From “Grace OR Truth” to “Grace AND Truth.” (You can find the file to watch/download at calvary.ch if you are interested.) After listening and reflecting on some of my own life experiences, I was inspired to write a poem.

And I think sharing it today would be a great way to wrap up this month of posts about loving others. For Jesus showed by example that anyone who would follow Him must love as He loved (and still loves).

That’s relatively easy to do when we’re loving someone who we trust or who shares our interests or who is nice or who puts/keeps us in a good mood or who will do something wonderful for us. But it’s pretty stinkin’ hard to love someone who doesn’t like us or who has views opposite our own or who knows how to push our buttons or who hurts us with their words/actions or who always brings some inconvenience into our lives.

Yet the second group, those are the ones we are especially called to love, and who arguably need love the most. In fact, if we are honest, we’ll admit we have certainly been in that second group for someone else–and perhaps we still are.

As Caleb said, it’s not easy, but real “love is the tension of grace and truth.” So the next time you’re having a hard time loving someone, perhaps you can join me in this practice: envision yourself inviting them to meet you on a bridge where the tension of those two all-important virtues spans a chasm of hate and divisiveness.

The Bridge

(John 1:4, John 10:10, Psalm 36:9, 2 Corinthians 5:20-21, Psalm 2:11-12, 1 Timothy 6:18-19)

Hello, it’s me, the one who refuses to give up,
the one reaching out an imperfect hand,
who wants to forgive and start speaking again.

I love you enough to want your best
even when your best is the harder choice.
I pray you’ll hear that love shine through
where truth and grace meet in my voice.

You were meant for something far greater than this.
Please meet me on the bridge.

Hello, it’s me, one who didn’t make the laws,
one who has no right to play the Judge,
but one who can tell how His pardon comes.

I love you enough to want your best
even when your best is the harder choice.
I pray you’ll hear that love shine through
where truth and grace meet in my voice.

You were meant to be renewed and cleansed.
Please meet me on the bridge.

Hello, it’s me, the one who weeps at beauty’s kiss,
one who found light, light to shatter the dark,
who now holds up that beacon from my heart.

I love you enough to want your best
even when your best is the harder choice.
I pray you’ll hear that love shine through
where truth and grace meet in my voice.

You were meant to grasp life and truly live.
Please meet me on the bridge.

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Acrylic on canvas, 12 x 12

Some winters feel more brutal than others. This one seems to be hitting many in my acquaintance quite hard. Between unusually long stretches of deep cold, wave after wave of substantial snow, and a bunch of really tough life circumstances, our hearts cry for a reprieve.

We are hoping for spring to arrive sooner than later. And we are looking for reminders that hoping for what we do not yet have is still a worthy pursuit.

In that light, I took time last night to finish painting this piece. And I wrote a poem to go with it.

This breaks up my series on “love” a bit, but I sensed there might be a few people who needed to see/read it now. (And, after all, isn’t it true that sometimes our ability to keep loving is fueled primarily by the hope that it’s simply our soul’s winter and things will eventually be resolved?)

Poem: Branch, Bud, Blossom

While I have sight,

let me appreciate

each fragile-vibrant blossom

reaching up

and out

in communion

with her neighbors

and the Giver of her

woven, cherished beauty.

And if these eyes

should ever dim,

let me recall solemnly

breathtaking snows,

so silent

and heavy,

to mute

Earth’s collective cry

of hope for a season…

only a season.

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I took the plunge. After years of avoiding it, I finally opened a Facebook account. Downside: it is causing my attention span to go downhill faster! Upside: I’m reconnecting with people that I haven’t been in touch with for years.

One of those people popped up on my suggested friends list. And I instantly recognized the name but was so surprised by several things. Surprised that she, a Chinese, had married a man from Scandinavia, where she now lives. Surprised at what a beautiful woman she has blossomed into after being a somewhat awkward tomboy type in my classes. Surprised at how quickly she reached out to me and how excited she was to see me again when she had been somewhat punkish and hard to read while she was my responsibility 13 years ago.

Seeing her face again, I was transported back to that shadowy classroom where I helped her and her classmates build their vocabulary, correct their grammar, and improve their pronunciation. And I clearly recall that she was one of the most challenging students in that class because she was so smart but could still be hard to communicate with. She was not as easy to relate to as many of the other students, and yet she directly showed how much she needed attention and love.

So I did my best to love her. And I know I’m not the only one who had a small (or large) hand in her development along the way. But seeing the way she’s turned out, I simply smile.

Teachers have some kind of heart vision that allows us to look at a student who is struggling or hurting or overly ambitious and see potential for something better now and something great in the future.

I realize now, in hindsight, I dreamed those things for her. But with most of my dreams, there is a little nagging sense of doubt that lurks in the background. Yet, seeing her as she is today, I gain a renewed sense of wanting to dream for and love my current and future students.

The love we give as educators today will likely reap a harvest of goodness whether or not we ever see it with our human eyes.

And so, we dream. And we love.

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Bead art by Kaylene

You may already know some of the history behind Valentine’s Day, an occasion that many will celebrate this week. But to recap, at its base, this day honors the life and death of a man who believed so strongly in the importance of love and marriage that he set the truth of his convictions above the laws of the land – and it ended up costing him his life. Not only his life, but also the chance to stay with the love of his life just a short time after he had finally found her. In fact, the only part of our modern celebration that closely reflects his story is the idea of writing a note to the one you love, something he did before he was executed.

Another early saint named Paul wrote a letter of his own to people he cared deeply about a couple of centuries before Valentine lived. In his letter, Paul wrote, “If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.” This was a truth Valentine believed in, and though he wasn’t burned to death (he was executed by archers), he both surrendered his body AND had love. Therefore, though he sacrificed his earthly relationship in the process, he gained everything.

We often think of February 14 as a day for overpriced flowers, steak dinners, imported truffles, and jewelry; these are the modern symbols of love. But love is so much more than that.

Like Thanksgiving, Christmas, Martin Luther King Day, Easter, and Mother’s Day, we are momentarily recalling values and concepts that are much bigger than what can be contained in any single day. Gratitude, peace, love, service, victory, and devotion are all things that would be better exhibited 365 days of the year. And yet, sadly, this February 15, somewhere two friends will have a huge fight, somewhere else a couple will divorce, and at a third location a parent will abuse her child right next door to the small business where a coworker will slander his boss.

Why is this? Could it be that we’ve all developed love-specific dementia? In his same letter, St. Paul went on to describe how we can identify love by these traits: patience, kindness, contentment, quietness, humility, respect, selflessness, slow-fused reactions, forgiveness, purity, truth, protection, trust, hope, faithfulness.

Wow. That’s the kind of love the soul is starved for.

Most people, if they’re observing closely, even if they can’t express it in words, know when they see or feel examples of this deeper love. But living these traits out ourselves with any kind of consistency? That’s another story.

In our modern society, I think this is because nurturing these traits inside of our own self and in relationship with other people takes an incredible amount of time, energy, focus, and solid listening skills.

But I would argue that love-laced traits (far more than the blue whale, the snow leopard, and the giant panda) are the real endangered species of our era. Because without them, hearts, relationships, and communities will whither and die.

So this Valentine’s Day – and in all the days following – would you consider setting remotes and devices aside more often and choosing to extend respect-filled patience or hope-filled trust to another in place of fancy gifts, pricey meals, self-seeking gestures, and empty words?

The best choices are rarely the easiest choices. But, in the end, they lead to everything that matters.

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It was dark and cold. Very cold. And I didn’t want to get out of bed. So when the alarm screeched, I hit snooze, burrowed under the blankets, and prayed, “God, I cannot face this day. I dread it. Help!”

When the alarm screeched again, I stood up to take on life’s challenges… After a shower and a Bible passage for the day. And this was the passage that greeted me:

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.” (Colossians 3:12-14, NIV)

With the steeping of my soul in those verses, my outlook changed. I still didn’t know exactly all I would face in that day and how I would have the strength to face it. But because I remembered how I am loved, I could choose to clothe myself with these virtues and watch with anticipation the mysterious ways in which love that’s planted becomes love that blooms.

Before I headed to the office, I had a few errands to run. At a local business, the clerk helping me made some understandable but annoying mistakes (quite honestly, far more annoying for her than for me!). In the midst of that extra long interaction and her frustration, we found a couple of things to laugh about. And with that much-needed release, she was able to confide about basic details of life struggles that were weighing her down.

During that whole interaction, and especially as she shared what was burdening her heart, a progression noticeably spilled forth in me. I had a sense deep in my own heart to be still and listen carefully. I heard both what she was saying and what she wasn’t saying. I knew I needed to pray for her. I knew I needed to TELL her I was going to pray for her. I told her I was going to pray for her without any nervousness or discomfort — an offer that moved her. I knew why I was alive in that moment, for that day. And I left the establishment with a big smile on my face and a sweet song in my heart.

Upon reflecting now, several days later, I see how I faced the otherwise overwhelming things waiting for me at the office with a much deeper calm and sense of strength and patience as the day progressed.

Every single human is weak and in need. Me included.

But I know that where I turn in my weakness and Who I look to to fill my most fundamental needs makes the greatest difference. It makes a difference in how I can choose to don the overcoat of love. And it makes a difference in what virtuous layers I can choose to wear underneath.

Bring on the cold. I’m ready to spread the warmth.

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