Before the Rainbow

Before the rainbow only one family received God’s grace.

Before the rainbow the earth was full of corruption.

Before the rainbow a 100-year project had to be completed.

Before the rainbow every God-given detail had to be followed.

Before the rainbow goodbyes were said to everything.

Before the rainbow a year-long boat ride.

Before the rainbow an altar produced a new covenant.

The rainbow reminds us of a promise. I appreciate the lessons to be learned from remembering what came before the rainbow.

Photo by Jorge Fernández Salas on Unsplash

When I Know What I Don’t Want to Know

Following my last post, everyone lives in a perpetual state of not knowing what they don’t know. Inside of that bubble comes moments when we learn something we’d rather not know. Is it just me, or do those things make you wish you could unlearn them? And, doesn’t it seem like it’s happening more and more, almost daily?

Seven chapters later in Joshua, I’m guessing Caleb could relate with these two questions. His conversation with Joshua was 45 years after learning something very costly. It cost many men he knew their lives. Caleb was promised he wasn’t included in that result, yet he lived with knowing so much that I imagine he struggled knowing.

Knowledge brings choices. I prefer that thought over the thought that knowledge is power. Both can be true; but looking through Caleb’s 45-year hindsight, I lean toward his model of making righteous choices versus abusing bestowed power with his knowledge.

CHOICE #1: Knowledge doesn’t make you king.

Caleb may have been tempted to envy Joshua or to disrespect his predecessor, Moses. He didn’t, I believe, because he made the choice not to pursue a physical position of authority just like he didn’t assume one in his spiritual life. Caleb was not the king of his life. His choice led him down a long, hard, unchosen path resulting in generational blessings no other man with his knowledge received.

CHOICE #2: Knowledge doesn’t dictate direction.

Realistically, Caleb could have taking a direction in an attempt to act on what he knew. Yet, year after year after year, he chose to submit to a direction that must have seemed avoidable and sorrowful. What kept that choice in tact was a promise, a promise that sustained and grew his strength around each turn to his final destination.

CHOICE #3: Knowledge does offer servanthood.

Another guess I have about Caleb is that he viewed life as a gift. Life didn’t owe him. It didn’t owe him power or guarantee him ease. This view of life molded him into a servant. He allowed it. He welcomed it. He embraced it. That’s why 45 years later he reaped a servant’s reward.

When we know what we don’t want to know, may be all be drawn to Caleb’s choices. For the long haul. For everyone’s future. For the promised land. For the Promise Keeper.

Photo by Caleb Jones on Unsplash

An Altar in the World, Meditation #3

On recommendation, I recently read An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor. It’s subtitled A Geography of Faith. In the spirit of that lane, rather than offer a review I’ve selected my top highlights and will offer a meditation post for each one. Here’s quote #3:

How often we are embarrassed to do and say the things that really affect us.

Chapter 12, The Practice of Pronouncing Blessings

This one is a pickle. It is a What If-er’s nightmare. “If I say how I’m really feeling, how will they respond?” “If I make this decision, will my friends understand?” On and on.

Taylor advocates for two things in this chapter: 1) embrace blessing all things and 2) speak from your heart.

The first time I gave an unexpected, heartfelt blessing was in a letter to my college best friend and his fiancee. I was surprised how much it touched them. From that I learned we don’t practice blessing enough. It’s a foreign language.

To improve our skills, as simple as it sounds, it all begins with the word “may”. “May” frames the future, a future where potential is realized and hopes are fulfilled. When introducing a spiritual blessing, “may” invites the work and hand of God with reverence and promise. No matter the person, no matter the present, everyone could stand to hear a blessing, a word to affect today and tomorrow.

To the newborn, speak a blessing.

To the estranged, speak a blessing.

To the groundbreakers, speak a blessing.

To the paralyzed, speak a blessing.

To the faithful, speak a blessing.

To the wanderer, speak a blessing.

To the one in the mirror, speak a blessing.

To the One above all others, speak a blessing.

Photo by Glen Carrie on Unsplash

Stuck on Saturday

During the Easter season the last few years, I’ve been drawn to conversations around not rushing to Sunday. We’d rather not sit in the pain or silence choosing to skip ahead to resurrection. Lucky for us in this century, that’s an option.

Sorry for those that lived Easter weekend in real time. Not an option for them. And although it feels like an option for us each Easter weekend, the reality is that much of our life experience feels a lot like waiting for resurrection. Like it’s a really looooooong Saturday.

  • An unraveling marriage
  • A family feud
  • A wayward child
  • A terminal diagnosis
  • An unfulfilled promise

In many biblical accounts we find company with others stuck on Saturday:

  • Abraham’s years of waiting for the promised son
  • Jacob and Esau’s rivalry encouraged by their parents that caused years of generational pain
  • Joseph’s journey through multiple betrayals, even prison time
  • Esther’s quest to save her people
  • Job’s turmoil of loss, grief, and disease
  • David’s numerous interpersonal relationship challenges that seemed unending

Their stories may be so familiar that we forget or fail to see how much we have in common. Their resurrection took much longer than a weekend…weeks, but mostly years. They had to find a way to live stuck on Saturday. Truth is, until eternity is our norm-the ultimate resurrection, we’re all stuck on Saturday. The how-to-live-on-Saturday list is long, but here are my top three, Easter 2022:

Stop trying to make it happen…that’s what Abraham did. What a mess! It’s better to wait for the promise keeper to move the stone than to derail your life attempting to do his job for him.

Remember whose you are…that’s what David did. What a heart! It’s healthy to blurt, wail, lament, and even curse in order to create the space for praise from a sheltered, created, purposed, and everlastingly loved child.

Keep the communication lines open…that’s what they all did. What examples! It’s freeing to lean not on your own understanding by trusting that what is coming on Sunday is something only possible from higher ways and thoughts.

Stuck on Saturday? It’s not fun. Yet the forced gaze on the stone mover is worth it.

Photo by Sincerely Media on Unsplash

He’s Not the Dry Cleaner

I picked up my dry cleaning yesterday. It was actually two separate tickets, so that says something about the lack of urgency of my dry cleaning routine. When they say, “It’ll be ready tomorrow by five,” I courteously reply with thanks. If I wanted to reply in kind I’d say, “No rush. See you in a few weeks.”

There is the rare occasion when I realize I need something that quick. A wedding or funeral demands a quicker pickup. So I’m more in the “I’ll see you then” mode.  I’m in need, and I’m expecting them to deliver.

If we aren’t paying attention, we can treat God like the dry cleaner. We pull up in the drive-thru lane, drop off our needs, say thanks, and go about our day without much urgency.  No big deal. Unless it’s that rare occasion. Then we might actually be more demanding of him than we are the dry cleaner.

To be clear, He isn’t the dry cleaner.

He doesn’t say, “You tell me when you need it, and I’ll get right on that.” He’s not a business owner needing your business in order to keep the doors open. He’s not in the business of keeping you satisfied.

But here’s a question: What about those desperate times when you are truly in need of support, or connection, or at least an acknowledgment that He’s there? We understand in that moment He isn’t going to completely solve our issue, but can He at least let us know He’s on the job.  We aren’t an irate customer; more like a hurting son or daughter.

Recently I found myself torn between treating him like the dry cleaner, fully knowing He isn’t, and like my heavenly Father.  I won’t share all the dialogue, but suffice it to say it was more than a short conversation in the drive-thru.

And what He did was what He promises to do. He heard my cry.  He didn’t totally solve my issue, but He gave me what I needed to get back on the road.  His answer to my question, “What are you doing?” was, “Whatever it is, I’ll give you the strength for it.”

And that was enough-especially when I stopped acting like His customer and more like His child.

Photo Credit: Unsplash/Waldemar Brandt