Glimpses of Grace

In the midst of disappointments, whether relational or other life meltdowns, it is hard to see what is happening around us. I think in part the reason is that we are "forced" to look downward and focus on our next step. Or maybe, we have to look downward at the mortal wound our heart has taken . . . we wonder if the bleeding will ever stop . . . if the the pain will remain. We bandage and take care of those areas, and unfortunately, we get used to looking downward.





I've noticed that when I continue to look downward, I become disoriented . . . sometimes very dizzy when I do attempt to move.





Now, don't think this is heading in that "spiritual direction" necessarily . . . lol . . . I'm not one of those bandwagon collectors of religious pithy sayings that are better left in the BS pile they came out of . . . . not gonna challenge you to "keep your eyes on the sky and keep looking up" as one radio personality used to always throw out . . .





But I am learning something about the surprising nature of grace , its healing work , and how it often appears . . .





If we remember a couple of scenes from the biblical account , it offers some clues . . .





Like, for instance, when that "gardener" approached the woman at Jesus' tomb that morning. She was glued into her emotions . . . her activities that early morning . . . the "story" her life had been enduring. And she had no clue who it was standing next to her . . . "why are you seeking the living among the dead" . . . or in my translation . . . . "pssst, hey . . . got a second . . . I know you think you are bleeding to death right now, but . . . look over here a sec . . . " . . .





Or the two friends on that road to Emmaus . . . pissed off, argueing, depressed , all screwed up . . . Scripture actually says they were downcast . . . eyes, looking downward . . . "Hey, what's up ?? Whatcha talking about?? . . . OH REALLY?? . . . Got a sec . . . let's walk along . . . let me explain and shows you some stuff" . . .








So, I attempt (very feebly at times) to look around me. And , when I least expect it . . . poof there He is.





This recent sighting occurred a couple of Sundays ago. I meet with some friends on Sunday mornings to talk about various spiritual issues and pray for one another, catch up on the happenings of our lives (can you believe some folks don't do the Facebook thing?? Unbelievable . . . lol) , among other things. Well, across the street from where we meet is an assisted living facility that has been the residence of some "interesting" folks over the years. Every once in a while, someone will come over, usually to share in the snacks and refreshments we share together after our meeting. And each one of them, much like us, have some rather "unique" peculiarities and stories that surrond their lives. Take "Toby" for instance. Toby's story had some troubling chapters that involved depression and attempted suicide. He had a difficult time walking and talking but would always tell our teens (and anyone else willing to listen) to "Not do drugs . . . because it made him put a 357 magnum in his mouth" . . . and while it didn't end his life, the damage was irreparable . . . and he was quite the character to say the least. To say these folks are what we'd pass off as "crazy" is really an under and over statement. I have found that they are just like me in sooo many ways. Toby and I would often sit around and spout off Led Zepplin lyrics to each other. He couldn't remember his shoes (btw, anyone seen my sneakers?? ) but he could remember a song . . .





But this Sunday . . . something else was up beyond the usual . . . I was pontificating about some minute point that I felt God wanted me to make, when all of a sudden this lady walks in the back door of our room. Which isn't a big deal because we are so laid back that folks are often coming and going (mostly going these days ;p) . . . but in she walks and begins to look for a place to sit down. Now this particular week, I had arranged the chairs in a large semi circle so we were all pretty much facing each other. When you do that, the back seats fill up real fast . . . my friends get very uncomfortable when other people looking at them that they try to put more distance to themselves. So, not finding any seats open in the "back" of the room, she continues to navigate herself to the front. Now things get pretty distracting because she doesn't look like us at all . For one thing, we are a bunch of white folks and she is of a darker color scheme . . . then there is the dress . We tend to dress pretty relaxed and comfortable when we get together , but she was redefining this protocol. she had, probably (and I'm more than likely understating this) 35-40 little stuff animals pinned to her dress . . . from her neck to her ankles. And here she is clinking and clunking her way up to the 2nd to the front row of this circle of people. In my head, voices are saying things like "AGAIN??? What the heck am I supposed to do now? . . . Keep pressing on brother . . . lay out that Truth for the kingdom . . . Is she going to come all the way up by me??" It was hilarious although none of us chuckled . . . awkward although most pretended not to stare, etc. She sat there and looked at me as if to say "yeah?? you got something to say to me?"





Well, I really can't recall what all was going on except that I was dying on the inside while watching her from the corner of my eye . . . she dumps everything out of her purse and starts rummaging through it . . . like she's looking for that button that will win her a price on "Let's Make A Deal", etc.



But I've learned that in the things that are most distracting . . . most awkward . . . most unacceptable . . . most unlike me . . . there is a Presence far grander than my pain . I'm learning to take notice . . .

So, as our group time drew to a close . . . I offered a word of blessing and prayer, then we all headed for some refreshments. And the "teddy bear gal" was right in there with all of us. Some of us cringed at the moment she dishes out her goodies. Other's do there best to connect with her, asking her name . . . how she is doing today . . . can they help her. In one moment, the one that took my breath away that morning, a man stepped toward her and offered his hand and some words of welcome and connection. I almost broke down in tears, for indeed she was welcome in our midst. So much has changed in these places for me. The pressure from others as well as internally from my own woundedness has been slowly eroding away. And in its place is an unspeakable joy that continues to emerge. It has always been there . . . like when Ke' (another resident who was from Vietnam and spoke no English) made his way forward to our "altar" in the midst of me teaching on Romans. Ke' humbled himelf in prayer to Someone , and then maybe 5-10 minutes later, got up and returned to his seat. Or when one gal, screamed out at the conclusion of our "service" -- "THREE CHEERS FOR PASTOR PAT . . . HIP, HIP , HOORAY . . . HIP , HIP, HOORAY . . . HIP, HIP, HOORAY" . . . .

I thought for a moment that I was actually hearing the Trinity's glee over my being . . .

Yeah, these "glimpses" have become such intimate whispers of healing that I'm embarrassed to even share. Simply am hoping to encourage maybe another lost pilgrim, that in the moments of their total hurt, isolation and hardships . . . He is still there. Most often, in images and moments that you may not even notice unless you raise your gaze for a moment . . .

"PSSST . . . HEY . . . OVER HERE . . . "

To emphasize the point even further . . . as some of us are coming back into our meeting area, and she has left the building with her snacks piled in her arms . . . we notice something even more amazing . . . the "pile" that she had left on the seat next to her . . . . well, it's still there . . . . and its not exactly a "pile" . . . nope . . . it was actually . . . her offering . . .

She had dumped out a couple of $1 bills and a pile of change and had left it there . . . her "widow's mite" if you will . . .

As I walked over to gather the offering together . . . I was about to burst into tears . . . I felt like I was in the "Holy of Holies" (to reference some Old Testament language and imagery) . . . indeed . . . in the midst of all of us . . . someone had given all . . . ALL . . . and she gave it to us . . . to help, to share , to whatever . . . no fan-fare . . . no demand that we minister to her needs or not offend or not hurt her feelings . . . no . . . just dumped her stuff and walked away . . .

Honor, Dignity, Brotherhood, Sacrifice

It's all the things we long for actually isn't it?

Been spending some time talking with friends about a letter in the Bible, Ephesians, the past several months. It's been good stuff . . . the timing incredible! This past Sunday, we were looking at vs. 25 of chapter 4:

"What this adds up to, then, is this: no more lies, no more pretense.
Tell you neighbor the truth. In Christ's body we're all connected to each
other, after all. When you lie to others, you end up lying to
yourself."

So, we talked about it, the interaction was good (as usual). But Monday, I saw it . . . it action . . . real flesh and bones . . . right before our eyes!

I don't know if you've ever seen a military funeral. They are quite something to behold! The austere presence is moving. We were up at Bushnell at the Florida National Cemetary to say a final good bye to Alfred, a loving husband, father, grand-father, friend. He had served our country in the Army through WWII. He had also been a NYPD Detective, serving in that capacity for 30 years as well. He was truly honored by all those who gathered in remembrance. The Color-Guard awaited his arrival, and along with his family, escorted his body to this solemn and holy place. There are various groups that will help in occasions such as this, various military guards . . . but today, I was moved by those who would honor Alfred's life and service in this moment. For these were men and women who had also served our country . . . veterans from every branch. They were not active duty personnel, but rather, each one was very old now themselves. Their cadence was off as they marched, but not within . . . voices were a bit shaky now as they spoke and answered commands, but not within. Even the dear one who played "Taps" seemed to labor with each breath and each note. These were Alfred's comrades. These were ones who had served with him. And they honored their hero, their brother with an expression of love, honor and dignity that few of us ever get to see much less experience.

It dawned on me in that moment, Paul's words again . . . (as another translation reads), "We are members of one another" . . . was being lived out right in front of our eyes. For these warriors understood, and have embraced and lived something that the Father has actually asked each church to model and live before a community and world that simply doesn't see or experience this powerful union. No, we squabble about every little thing under the sun. Hurt feelings, missed expectations, music, programs, gossip, politics are what we model. Soldiers are not perfect people at all. I grew up in the shadow of the military as an Army brat. They don't even try to hide their faults at all. They cuss, smoke (maybe), hang out at the NCO club, . . . swap stories, brag, hide, probably lie . . . their marriages suffer intensely . . . their kids lose much . . . but in the midst of all their lives, THEY ARE A COMMUNITY!! The soldier on the battlefield knows that his survival is in the hands of the man who lays next to him in the foxhole and he trusts him warts and all.

Man, my heart longs for that type of community . . .

and I feel fortunate because I have been graced with a few close comrades both close and afar . . . but so many have not.

John Lynch, from TrueFaced, has often said "wouldn't it be wonderful if the absolute worse things about you are known, and you are still celebrated".

Honestly, that just hasn't been my larger experience in this journey called "church" . . . every time I screw up, I felt judged, abandoned and thrown out with the bath-water. But when I'm just about ready to chuck it all and give up . . . a peaceful dove is released and I feel hope stir. I believe . . . I truly do . . .

I think the secret of that reality was displayed as each shaking fold of the American flag was creased before our eyes. As each member of the color guard saluted their brother in honor, respect, and love. And even as one returned the salute on behalf of the one that would no longer be saluting.

"Well done thy good and faithful servant" . . . the words echoed across the landscape . . . as each member, with unstable gates and steps returned to their posts and awaited the next fallen brother . . . my heart cried out "WELL DONE TO EACH OF YOU!!"

Thank you Alfred!