A Sparkle for Every Wrinkle

My man was walking with me through a field of glory when he stopped and asked,

“What is your desire today, my dear?”

Those pools of liquid fire gazed into my eyes.  My hand was suddenly warm with his comforting touch.  I whispered, “something that sparkles. “

He just nodded and continued walking.  Every few steps, he would stop and pick a white flower.  He carefully inspected every petal to make sure that it was perfect and without blemish.  Once satisfied, he dropped it into the basket.  As it fell from his fingers, the flower became a beautiful diamond ring.  He did this in silence until the basket was full.  He handed the basket to me and continued walking.

I stood still.  Looking down into the basket, the most beautiful gems my eyes had ever seen shone in the light of the sun.  My eyes filled with tears, the sight of such beauty was overwhelming. 

I cried out, “What am I to do with all of these lovely rings?”

He stopped and turned to face me.  “Beloved, each of these rings belongs to someone.  Look among the orphans and the widows and seek the brokenhearted.  I have given you hope, let hope rise.”

Suddenly we were standing in a grey alley.  I looked around the strange surroundings and took in the foreign smells, the unsightly smiles and the begrudging glares.  Hate and bitterness wafted through the air like a solid stench, and I felt my knees begin to quiver.  He silenced my heart and spoke life once again, “Do not be afraid, for I am with you.”  He kissed my forehead and disappeared, yet his warmth remained.

I grasped the handles of the basket tightly and began walking through the streets.  I saw children begging, fathers leaving, mothers weeping.  All around me I could feel His arms reaching out to repair the injustices.  I was so confused.

“Jesus, what good are rings?  These people need miracles.  They need you to stand in front of them and tell them who you are.  They need money, they need homes, they need food.  They need you to hold them and wipe their tears.  What am I to do with a basket of rings?”

He spoke silently, “My love, just as I did what my Father did, so do what I do.  My ring is given to those who follow no other lovers and sell all they own for a treasure.  I want to reverse the lies that these have believed.  I find my Bride worthy, I find her beautiful, I find her more precious than diamonds.  I want her to enter covenant with me, I want her to accept my betrothal.  Place my ring on their fingers and they will receive it from me.”

I answered, “There are so many.  Will there be enough?”

“There is always enough.  I can make something beautiful out of nothing.  Though many are called, few are chosen.  Few receive the gift that I freely give.”

My feet continued moving forward.  A golden trail lit my path, and on it were engraved words of life.  I followed the light until I reached a little shanty house, run down and forsaken.  A little old woman sat in front of the door on a threadbare mat.  Her wrinkled hands were extended in front of her, holding a few pennies.  Bruises and blisters testified of the pain she had endured.  Her eyes were a dull grey; she was blind.

 Jesus pressed my heart and spoke, “this one, beloved.”

I dropped to my knees in front of this woman and picked out the most extravagant ring I could find from the basket.  I opened my mouth and a language I never knew flowed forth.  The woman’s eyes filled with tears.  As I slid the ring onto her left hand, tears slid down her dirty cheeks and washed away years of grime and dust.  Though she could not see the ring, she held her fingers closely around it.

My own tears were falling freely down my face.  I addressed that man,  “Jesus, she cannot even see it!”

He commanded, “Fill your fingers with tears and place them over her eyes.”

I did so.  A shade of ocean blue filled her eyes and she began to blink rapidly.  She held her hands out in front of her and gazed at the beautiful ring. 

Jesus walked up behind her and rested His hand on her shoulder.  Water was flowing forth from his mouth and into her ears.  Her tears had completely washed the shame from her face, and she was smiling radiantly with the joy of a newlywed bride.

Jesus smiled as well, and as he did so a burst of light shone on the ring. 

Ever so brightly, the diamond caught the light and sparkled.

Dirty Feet.

A child runs through the mud and accidentally steps onto a piece of broken glass. 

Jesus stops.  

As her blood and tears flow forth, He is moved to compassion and tenderly treats and soaks and bathes these precious feet until His love has been poured out as well.  He dries them carefully and wraps them in firm bandages, holding her until her pain has subsided.

A homeless man walks through the rubble spread across the sidewalk and searches for his lost pair of charity sneakers.

 Jesus stops.  

He sees the defeat and brokenness, and also the beauty and the promise.  He hears the cries for help and the humility to ask for an act of kindness. 

 Jesus is moved towards compassion.

 He bathes the man’s feet and anoints them with oil.  He gives him new sandals and leads him towards a golden palace.

A prostitute steps out of her stilettos and settles in between the sheets.

 Jesus stops.  

He sees her broken heart and all of her walls.  He sees the future day when her forces come crashing down.  He sees that she has lost her dignity, and He sees that her desire is freedom.  He hears the lies that constantly torment her mind, and He listens to what her eyes are desperately pleading. 

 Jesus is moved towards compassion. 

 He bathes her feet and anoints them with oil.  He gives her new sandals and a white gown, and leads her to the banqueting table.

A businessman steps into his plush office wearing his brand new shiny shoes.

 Jesus stops.  He sees that this man is lost in the world of materialism, and no longer has eyes to see or ears to hear that which is not tangible.  His heart breaks for the man who has no desire to seek the kingdom and cannot comprehend the glory. 

 Jesus is moved towards compassion.

 He bathes his feet and anoints them with oil.  He removes his shoes and brings him into the world of sorrow so that he might see.

A Pharisee settles in at home after a long day of preaching to the crowds.  He refuses to take off his shoes or uncover his feet.  Jesus begs Him to ask for a softer heart, that he might be cleansed. 

 Jesus sees the hypocrisy and wants so badly to wash these feet.  However, the Pharisee doesn’t think he needs Jesus anymore because he has figured out how to be righteous enough to get to heaven.

Thank you Abba for making us feet.  Thank you Jesus for washing away our shame.

There is something so vulnerable about seeing a person barefoot, almost as though they are partially uncovered and shouldn’t be.  After we spend days walking and standing and running and hiding, our feet can become so messy.  They carry the dirt we walk through.  They carry the mess we make.  They carry us and hold us up.  If our feet fail, we fall. 

Jesus sees our feet as the quickest way to our heart of hearts.  He assumes a stature that places him lowest.   There is nothing on our bodies lower than our feet.  Jesus goes below our feet and raises them to his eyes so that He can see us best.

Jesus knows that actions speak love louder than words.  He knows that before one can walk into the kingdom, one must have clean feet.  The Holy Place requires righteousness.  Jesus doesn’t preach about how to get your feet clean.  He cleans them for you.  You don’t even have to know how dirty your feet are.  He already does.

Jesus knows that in order to walk in the kingdom, one’s whole life must be given to God the Father.  He knows that life includes mind, body, heart, and soul.  If Jesus sees broken hearts and broken minds, He makes sure to heal those too.  Washing feet is more than just physical cleansing.  It’s emotional and spiritual cleansing. 

Humility speaks to someone, “I will honor you.  I will protect you.  I will love you, even when I see your weakest places.”  Jesus invites people to be messy with Him, because He will do the heavy lifting.  Sometimes, Jesus washes people’s feet simply so that their pride can be convicted and their hearts can be softened.

Jesus did His foot washing well.  He did it with love.  He did it because He knew that we would need to do the same.  We need to become lower if we want to become greater.  Foot washing isn’t a ritual, it’s a posture.

We need to learn how to be His body here on earth.  We need to learn how to wash each others’ feet.  We need to learn how to look at a men and women and children and remember that Jesus would find the gold in them, fall down, and wash their feet. 

Think of the person you love the most.

Jesus is washing his feet.

Think of the person who has hurt you most.

Jesus is washing his feet.

Think of the person who angers you most.

Jesus is washing his feet.

Think of yourself.

Jesus is washing your feet.

So Good

Our God is so outrageously good. 

If every single fiber of our being is not radiating with conviction and power of this statement, then there is no reason for us to profess Him as our God.  If we do not believe every single one of His promises, then we should not believe in any of them.  Because He says He is Good.  His saints say He is Good.  He says He works according to the Good of those who love Him!  He says that we are more than conquerors, which are no longer slaves to sin, but free in the love of Jesus.  He says that He has gone to prepare a place for us that is free from sorrow and pain.  He says that He loves us, that in our weakness, His strength is made perfect.  He promises that He will never leave nor forsake us.  He says that His perfection and justice are sooo good, that we must be sanctified and freed from the yoke of slavery in order to walk with Him.  Isn’t that JUST SO GOOD?!

But where is goodness?  We can see that our world is broken.  Tragedy and death and sickness run rampant through our cities, starvation and genocide and horrific disasters are raging in the world at this very moment.  How does God even fit into this reality?  How is He good?

Beloved, He came that we can be free.   Christ died to save us from death.  Death is separation from God.  Christ died so that we would not have be separated from the goodness of God. He died so that our sins could be erased, and that we could be pure forever.  Starting now.

 We do not have to live under the binds of this world.  Everything that brings sorrow and death into our lives, all of our struggles, all of our weaknesses, all of our trials and tribulations, God has granted us the grace to overcome.  Does this mean that our circumstances disappear?  Not necessarily.  But it DOES mean, that we won’t have to care about our circumstances because our hearts are so very full of grace and love that we have no choice but to rejoice in our sufferings!  We have no choice but to glorify the God who has freed us from what torments us within.

If God promises this, then, why do we not walk in his goodness?  If He is so outrageously good, and we TRULY believed it, our lives would be printed with peace all over them.  If His love is big enough to save us, then why do we fall back into the things that harm us?  Why do we allow the struggle to become bigger than the victory that has already been achieved?

We aren’t doing God any favors by ignoring His promises.  We aren’t doing ourselves any favors either.  One of the sickest lies of the enemy is that the Old Testament God is bad, and the New Testament God is Good.  What is that even about?  God is good, and God is the same.  His laws bring FREEDOM!  For what would we rather live for?  RIghteousness and joy or suffering and shame?

Everything that He commands He does so that we can preserve His perfect goodness.  Beloved, we just love to argue with Him, and tell Him that He is wrong.  We say that His commands are stifling, that they suck the fun out of life.  We say, “God You are being too judgmental by saying that I can’t look lustfully upon my brother, there is no grace in that.”  And then He cries and says, “Children don’t you know that I know your weaknesses?  Don’t you know that when you open a door to sin, waves of tragedy will sweep in?  How do you think prostitution, human trafficking, incest, rape, broken hearts, adultery, and cheating even came about?  Abide in my love, walk in my truth, set my word upon your hearts.”  Who are we to question God’s wisdom?  We know nothing about the centuries of the world.  We know nothing about the disasters that have swept humanity since the Fall.  In our pride and foolishness, we think we have the right to tell God what His love and grace should look like, and then by our actions and pursuit of worldliness we throw His goodness into the dirt.

He has such abundant grace.  His grace brings freedom now, for all people.  Grace is a lovely thought, but it is a beautiful reality.  Let us throw off everything that is hindering, and run the race of endurance.  Let us rejoice always and love fully.  Let us seek first the kingdom of God, and He will reveal just how wonderful He is.  As we decrease, He will increase.   To HIM be the power and the glory forever and ever.

The Flowergirl

Someday I will write the story, but until then this brief outline will have to suffice as one of the many beautiful testimonies God has manifested into my life. I have been the Bride in the desert, right now I am the Flowergirl being sent out.  Someday, I will again be the Bride before my Beloved.  The story isn't original, it's really the same story that is told every day.

The Bridegroom awaits His Bride.
The Table has been prepared, and all the guests have arrived. The Heavenly Host lift their trumpets to their lips and a sweet anthem rings throughout eternity.

The Bride is running.  She cannot seem to find her way back to her Love.
She is blinded by her fear and finds herself in the arms of all the wrong lovers.
They use and abandon her.  She feels hopeless, desolate, lost.
 Finally she falls upon her knees and cries out from the broken pieces of her heart.

The Flowergirl looks back and sees that the Beloved is missing.
The Bride’s Abba Father places a flower called Hope in her basket, and tells her to seek His Beloved.  She wraps her arms around Him and allows the Abba to pour His strength and love into her little arms.  She gazes into His smile, then turns to door to seek the Bride.

The Bride hears an echo.  A small little voice calls her name quietly in the breeze.  She looks up. Something in her heart stirs, something she cannot name.

The Flowergirl calls for the Beloved.  

She sings of the perfection of the Bridegroom, of His abiding Love and Mercy.  She promises the Bride that He still waits for her.

The echo grows louder and louder.  

Something foreign rings in the sweet melody of the child’s voice, something sweet and tender.  Innocence.  

The Bride holds her head in shame as she wishes she could once again claim the intoxicating joy of youth.  She wishes that she too could sing, but those days are over and gone.  

She is doomed in her winter throne.

The Flowergirl hears the broken cries of the Bride.  

Her Abba guides her to the Valley.  There she finds the Bride, bruised and tattered.  

Her white dress has been pulled to pieces and tainted.   

The Flowergirl walks slowly towards her, singing sweetly of the Bridegroom’s love.

The Bride looks up and sees the child walking towards her.  

She tries to cover her face in shame, 

afraid to look in the eyes of someone who had never beheld evil before. 

She keeps her head down, 

unable to see anything besides her soiled hands and bleeding heart.

As she draws near to the Bride, the Flowergirl tilts up her chin and gently holds her face.  She looks straight into the Bride’s eyes and whispers,

“The Bridegroom awaits His Bride.  Come Away.”

The Bride feels it stir in her heart again, but again she cannot recognize it.  Her heart almost takes flight, but quickly starts falling even deeper, as if being pulled by a greater force down into despair.

The Flowergirl sees the stirring.  She sees the broken and contrite heart.  

A couple of tears slide down her cheek as she reaches into her basket and pulls out Hope. 

Gently, she places the flower into the Bride’s hands.

The Bride looked at the flower and feels the stirring grow stronger.  Suddenly, it invades her entire soul.  Her desert became a door, a door of Hope.

She looks into the eyes of the child, and knows at once that her song is true.  The Love of the Father flooded throughout her entire being, and the Flowergirl draws her up.  They stand there, facing each other.  Slowly the Flowergirl begins to twirl with her arms held high, singing softly of the mercy of holiness of the King.

The Bride watches and feels her own feet begin to move, her own arms rising towards the Heavens.  Her heart takes flight as she believes in Hope.  She sings again, as in the days of her youth.

In that moment, the clouds open up and a dove descends upon the Bride.
A sweet and redeeming rain falls upon the valley, washing the stains from the Bride’s gown.
  Her purity once again shines with a radiant glory.

The Flowergirl grabs the Bride’s hand and lets out a peal of joyous laughter as they run quickly back to the ceremony.

The Bridegroom looks to the Abba Father, then looks to the Heavens.  A dove descends, bringing a sweet, sweet message:

What had been Lost now is Found.

The Flowergirl steps into the sanctuary, and looks once more behind her to see the beautiful Bride.  There she stands, as lovely as the stars in the night.  She is blooming with excitement to be united with her First Love once more.

With each step forward, the Flowergirl beckons the Kingdom to come with Glory, Honor, and Power.  She graciously looks towards the Abba, knowing that He delights in her, and she in Him.

The Bride steps forward and looks into the eyes of her Beloved.

The Heavenly Host bursts out into new song.

All creation rejoices.



Hosea Two

Two Masters

“No servant can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be loyal to one and despise the other.  You cannot serve God and money.” Now the Pharisees, who were lovers of money, also heard all these things, and they derided Him.  And He said to them, “You are those who justify yourselves before men, but God knows your hearts.  For what is highly esteemed among men is an abomination to God.”

Luke 16:13-15

We are called to be His servants, His disciples, His Beloved.  He sings a banner of love over us, and in that love we find perfect peace and redemption.  We are saved from the worst of ourselves and of the world.  We are forgiven for all the suffering that we have caused.  We are restored to a greater height, that we might pour out and love each other the same way.

What if, by thinking we are His servants, we are actually the Pharisees?  The Pharisees completely believed that they were loving God: they lived righteously, they preached to each other, they spread the word of the Lord.  Sin was unclean and abominable in their eyes.  That is God, right?

What if we have it all wrong?  What if we have justified ourselves, as a church body, so that God’s word fits our lives and our needs?  If Jesus spoke these words today, would we be obedient?   Who would listen to Him today?  Probably the same people: the poor. 

So why does the church “interpret” out of being poor?

Jesus came at the end of the Hellenistic Era and during the Pax Romana: the epitome of empirical success.  Philosophy and education and “wisdom” were rapant.  Riches and greed abounded throughout the empire, there was a promise of more and more and more if you simply submitted to that pursuit of money.

How is that time any different than this time?  What is the difference between the Acts church and today’s church?  God is still the same.  We believe that everything else Jesus said is still the same.

It only makes sense that Jesus preached so much about money.  He knew it would be a controversy and He spelled it all out for us.  So why exactly are we still worshipping money?

These are just some of my questions.  What is the difference between stewardship and poverty?  How much less hypocritical would Christians be if they actually did what Jesus commanded?    

Christianity is one of the biggest religions in the world.  Will all of us enter?  Am I personally “rich in God?”

I couldn't say.

Over and over He pleads, “ He who has ears let him hear.” What if, because we want to be comfortable, and we want God to fit in our little American Church Box, we aren’t listening?

It seems to be that all of these questions have a very simply answer; but the life that would result from being obedient would be completely crazy.  Giving up literally everything would be counter-culture. It would be revolutionary.  People would have to rely completely on God for provision and each other for love and community.  They would have nothing else to do with their time or their talents but go into the world and be persecuted.  It doesn't make any sense at all.

I don’t know, but it seems that is exactly what Jesus called his followers to do.

The Least of These

            The poorest of the poor have more gold than we could ever hope to obtain.  Injustice comes in so many forms including exploitation through human trafficking, child prostitution, domestic violence, and extreme poverty.  It’s so easy for our consumer society to look at these desolate places with overwhelming pity.  We see pictures of starving children and then glance at our full plates and think about how grateful we should be in comparison.  We see a homeless family and then finally appreciate our hundred thousand dollar houses.  I challenge this pity.   Pity, in a sense, is pride taking over and tricking us into believing we are compassionate beings. 

            These people in the margins of society who are deemed the “poor” and “pitiable” live in a brokenness and humility that we could only pray to experience.  They embody desperation physically what we lack in desperation spiritually.  Those who have found God and community in the cruelest shadows of the world reflect real love; love that is desperate and self-sacrificing and humble and treasured.  If we could see heaven here on earth, we would find ourselves in rags and starving while they are clothed in purple robes and crowns of glory.  We are Pharisees unfit to wash their feet.

            So much of ministry is approached with the mentality to help others.  We make ministry a project, and then turn people into pets.  We lose sight of the love that should be driving us.  I’ll be the first to admit that when I’ve given water and food to a bum I avoided their eyes because it was easier to see myself as a benefactor rather than an equal.  My pride prohibited me from looking into their eyes and being a part of their heart, but more importantly I forbade them from looking into my eyes and seeing the brokenness in mine.  I tried to maintain a distance so that I was invulnerable, and by doing so I was exploiting both of us, justifying it by charitable deeds. 

            I am being overtaken with shame for my own pride.  Jesus tells his followers that whatever we do for the Least, we do for Him.  We say that we would do anything for Jesus.  Would we do anything for a liar and a thief?  Would we do anything for the most despicable?  We are called to hate sin, not people.  We are called to love people.  Loving people that are good or broken is easy.  Loving people that hurt us and hurt others is what we are called to.  We are called to humble ourselves to love those who exploit each other; we are called to look in the mirror and forgive and love even more. We all fall from the same height.  Our sin is on the same level.  We cannot justify ourselves.   We are unfit to wash the feet of the broken until we ourselves are broken. 

            The challenge is to see the hearts of people, for God has bestowed Himself in each of us and thus gifted each of us with gold.  When we go to serve, we should equally receive.  We should approach each other always with reverence and awe.  When we go and try and give gold to the poor, we should also open our hearts to receive the gold they offer.  Their gold is in the purity of their brokenness and emotions and love.  If we could exhibit their gold, then maybe we would be fit to enter the kingdom of heaven alongside them.

The Little Yellow House

There is a little yellow house at the end of a road somewhere, small enough for one little me.  It's my escape place - the imaginary world in my head that i can wear a dress and heels everyday, stroll down the pier at sunset, and be at peace with everything in life.  

It's really quite a lovely little neighborhood with young families and children who play out in the street together.  When I come home from a busy day, the kids cheerfully wave hello, then go about their game.  They have no idea how much joy their happiness brings other people.  Their laughter is contagious and no matter how long of a day it is, their welcome always manages to erase all the stress of responsibility.  

Anyways, on the corner of the neighborhood is a grumpy old man who sits out on his rocking chair every afternoon just smoking his pipe with his arms crossed across his suspenders.  For some reason, we form a bond and he becomes like my grandpa - overprotective and completely irrational. Under all his decorum of being a tough guy his softspot always manages to reveal itself and discredit all the pretenses.  We understand each other, and he offers the wisdom of life experience to me while I return the optimism of an invincible youth.  He's the old-fashioned kind of man who will scowl at a guy who doesn't shake his hand firmly.  He assures me that no man who isn't good enough will ever be allowed to put a toe into our neighborhood without being approved first.  

So every Friday night I scuttle on over and make dinner for us, (thats right, in my dream I can cook) and we just digest the week, the past, the future - anything really that comes to mind.  

One day I am taking my time down at the pier and walking along when a big gust of wind blows all of my papers into the wind, and the story I've been working on scatters onto the beach.  As I rush to try and recover everything, an exceptionally attractive young man happens to be walking by as well.  Being a complete gentleman and officer, he gathers up some of my papers and hands them to me with a gorgeous smile.  And, because it's me, I whisper some awkward thank you and look down and run away because I don't know how to handle the situation.

Back home I laugh about how ridiculous I always manage to be in potentially perfect scenarios, then grab the cookies and head on over to the Old Man's house for our traditional dinner.  I call a quick hello on my way into the kitchen, still a bit frazzled.  With the lemonade in one hand and the snickerdoodles in the other, I walk towards the screen door and announce that I made a complete fool of my self and can't wait to tell the story.  I get onto the porch mid-sentence and find myself face-to-face with the man from the beach.  It's at that moment that Grumpy Man introduces his grandson and quietly chuckles to himself as he watches the beginning of a whole new story unfold.

So, the little yellow house has been my favorite daydream since the beginning of high school.  Laugh at my ridiculous romanticism, because someday you'll laugh again when everything actually comes true.

The end.