A Straightened Path

 

Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.
Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say
What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,
Which in the very thought renews the fear.

These are the opening verses of one of my favorite pieces of literature, Canto I of Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, Inferno.  I first read this text in my twenties and I now find a kinship with the author the older I get as Dante wrote the work later in life, in part, reflecting upon his own mortality and the divergent paths of the course of his existence and of others.

Today I am praying for a family and this has me reflecting.  Though their path in life is not identical to my bride's and mine, they are, none-the-less, engaged in challenges and trials that my bride and I can relate to.  Today they are in the midst of events, some would call the apex of trial, and my heart, along with the hearts of many are with them.  Through a path consciously chosen, loss has encompassed them and as many seek to comfort, console, and support, many others will question "why?"  Why did they choose to walk towards apparent heartache?  Why did they purpose to pursue a course that would leave them wounded?  Why would people do this?

A few years ago I recall sitting at a table at a conference hosted by the Chosen Ministry asking myself this same question.  I was at a fork in the road.  At that point in our lives, we had already lost a daughter to miscarriage and watched as God had miraculously retrieved our other two children from the jaws of death due to near fatal birth defects and cellular blood deficiencies.  We knew we would have no more biological children and I was content.  Through God's providence, I had a healthy son and a healthy daughter.  My bride, a cancer survivor, was on the mend and we had even been blessed with a new job with significantly higher income so I could provide for them all.  Everything was as it should be and the future was bright.  Except I was at a table listening to a man named Tom Davis tell me that it wasn't - that my contentment was a death sentence to others.

Next to me sat my beautiful bride who had convinced me we needed to be here, listening to this man.  For years before she knew in her heart that God had called her to a larger family than we would generate ourselves, but her husband was not so willing to engage this wild notion.   After all, who could predict the outcome of such a venture?  Who would unnecessarily invite government intrusion and oversight into their home by organizations such as the Department of Child and Family Services?  Why would one embrace the unpredictable nature of bringing troubled children into one's home?  Domestically these kids might not even be able to stay as they might be returned to birth families in the foster system.  Internationally, a family could get stuck with a nightmare on their hands.  And what of the expense of it all?  Wouldn't this sideline any fiscal security?  These were darkened woods that no one would intentionally venture into, would they?

Through the course of the evening, my fears were eroded as my conscience was mercilessly exposed to wave after wave of truth.  God's passion for the fatherless and the abandoned was relentlessly and repeatedly brought forth in verses such as Exodus 22:22, Deuteronomy 10:18, Psalm 10:14, Isaiah 1:17, John 14:18, and James 1:27, to name a few.  The Father's instructions were clear - to truly claim His compassion and love, one must embrace His heart for the orphan and the abandoned, for we were each of us orphans before adoption into His majestic family.  Convinced there was no more clear calling in the Word to marry faith and action, we stepped from the broad route of comfortable acknowledgement and onto the path of compassion for "the least of these".

The journey has transformed us and continues to do so.  We have encountered deep loss, experienced mountain top joys, marveled at God's provision, called out in despair, and been amazed as adoption entered our own home.  We have witnessed His restorative work and been broken upon the damages of man-made solutions to neglect and abuse.   We've seen the light of joy flicker and die in small eyes, replaced by dull survival-ism and knowledge of loss. 

Foreign soil has been tread upon and small ones speaking foreign tongues have been held and loved on, permitting a glimpse of the Father's sheer joy in each of us.  Death has been witnessed in those same lands and oppressive and seemingly insurmountable poverty and disease has been encountered.  But on those darkened paths, a faint chorus of small voices singing is still heard, thick with African accent "...the Lord will bless someone today, the Lord will bless someone today..."

This path does not permit "coasting" or resting on laurels.  It's comfort was never promised.  Often the surroundings are imposing.  This path inexorably leads away from what seems logical often causing others to question our intents, sometimes even seeking to hamper our course of travel in the name of love for us or for our own good.  In truth, we've discovered this journey even makes others uncomfortable.  This is literally the hating mother, father, wife and children that Jesus spoke of in Luke 14:26 - following Him when those closest oppose you.

But this path has never been trodden alone.  I have never ceased to marvel that no matter how dark the wood around becomes, no matter how isolating the circumstances, in the midst of it all, there is one continually present who has never left our side.  Sometimes He was ignored for the chaos in our minds, but He was ever present, none-the-less.  And this one knows the path all too well, for He is the one who blazed the trail our feet pursue.  Having, himself, traversed into the depths of Hell, this one gently reminds

"Lean on, trust in, and be confident in me with all your heart and mind and do not rely on your own insight or understanding. In all your ways know, recognize, and acknowledge me, and I will direct and make straight and plain your paths."
Proverbs 3:5,6 AMP

He is the one who never leaves or abandons.  Regardless of the imposing nature of the wood or the storm around us, when we embrace His calling to pursue His way He will illuminate before us a straightened path working towards an eternal glory.

That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever.
2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Through His Eyes

This week a news cast made its way across one of my news feeds I subscribe to that left me heartsick, angry, and filled with judgement.  I watched in stunned disbelief as a reporter interviewed a middle aged woman.  Her niece, a mother of two small toddlers, had left with the woman and left the children unattended in a home.  In their brief absence, the home had caught fire and one of the children, a three year old had died.  The air was charged with emotion as neighbors excitedly recounted unsuccessful efforts to enter the home upon hearing noises and cries inside.  One neighbor recounted lifeless limp bodies being carried out by emergency personnel like small dolls.  A grieved fireman leaned against a truck.  A mother was inconsolable.  I, too, grieved for them.  Senseless was the word that came to my mind - but this was not the tipping point for me.

The news reporter continued to interview the aunt and as she continued to speak it became evident she saw nothing wrong with leaving the children unattended and was perplexed how a fire could have broken out.  She even went so far as to begin blaming the kids for getting into things unattended.  Then, with sudden realization, she stated with anxiety that she really needed to get back into the house to see if her purse was in the debris - it contained her food stamps.

I was outraged by this woman.  How depraved, how cold, how inhuman?  FOOD STAMPS?  Your niece just lost one of her children due to your participatory negligence and all you care about is your food stamps?  To have been able to reach through the screen....

My judgement, my outrage, my anger, I suspect, would not be uncommon. In fact, I would challenge that most would argue that to feel otherwise would be inhuman.   The phrase "there's a special place in hell...." would almost cross lips as loathing for this individual and their transgressions against defined decency settled upon the average parent.  What have we become where life has so little value that food stamps weigh as heavily upon the mind as the light in a small child's eyes? 

Here we can further contemplate what has brought us to this point as a society, as a race?  Death is all around us.  We dispose of the unborn by the millions.  Life is cheapened daily in our speech, in our dress, in our choices, our attitudes towards others.  The value of our neighbor has dissipated.  To love God as we love ourselves is a tall order but to love our neighbor....we can't even see them, we don't even know who they are.

Regardless, this woman's actions above tips the scales - don't they?  I mean who among decent people would ever condone behaviors such as hers.  Who would ever put children at risk or put forth such a blatant disregard for others over self?  She truly deserves punishment, doesn't she?  On the scale of "I took some office supplies from work" to "hell-bound in hurry" she bought the express ticket, right?

I find it interesting that only people generate a sliding scale of "sinfulness" and resultant judgement.  Jesus never did this.  The Bible simply says in Romans 3:23 that "all have sinned and missed the mark".  We are so welcoming of the overwhelming grace of God's forgiveness for our own lives and yet so quick to remove it in others'.  For them we demand a system of retribution and earned reconciliation.  For this woman, how many would have hellfire licking her heels?  That's my impulse.  What of the half-truth I told today?  "But that's something everyone trips up on once and a while..."  It's no less damnable than rape, no less a death sentence than theft.  It is no less separating me from a Holy and sinless God than pedophilia, murder, pornography, addictions, foul language, gossipping and a whole host of other sins that destroy the mind and body of the offender and others.

My actions are no less repugnant, no less out of character, no less shameful and far removed from my intended creative purpose than that of the above listed woman's.  Neither are yours.  It is the tragic state of all mankind.  This is not to trivialize the tragedy of the above events.  Death was the consequence of actions.  Calamity ensued and loss and grief followed swiftly. 

But such is our state as well as spelled out in Romans 6:23.  The price of our sin is death.  Eternal calamity, loss and grief are on its heels.  In looking at each and every one of us, this is what our Lord saw.  This is what broke His heart, moved Him with compassion, and ultimately led Him to the eternal sacrifice of the ages.  With the overcast grace of the sacrifice of the Cross and the Resurrection we are each of us able to step out of damnation into life.  But in this state, we have no rights whatsoever to cast judgement upon others or the depravity of their actions.  Some will be scarcely noticeable.  Some will be horrific.  God's commands to us are this;  Love me with everything in you, love your neighbor as much as yourself.  There is no sliding scale of sin ommitting anyone from being a recipient of that love, no judgement seat that any of us get to sit in to determine who is worthy. 

As we pursue God and our neighbor we'll become less concerned with figuring out why the world is broken and who should pay for it and the associated judgement that comes with such mental wrestlings.  Rather we'll live more purposeful, becoming His hands and feet as we embrace His calling to love.  We'll begin to see people as he sees people, see death and suffering as he does.  In pursuing Him rather than justice, we'll see a sin-laiden world through the cross.  We will find ourselves becoming the outpouring of grace towards others.  We'll see others through His eyes.

A Bowl and a Towel

It sat folded at the end of the table.  There was nothing remarkable about it, nothing of note.  It was a plain piece of cloth made of a solid weave.  This simple towel had a very base function - the wiping of feet dirty feet.  Among the common man better cloths were utilized for the washing and drying of hands.  The houses of the wealthy were adorned with silks and linens.  This fabric had no place among the wealthy.  This textile would wipe the road filth and dust from legs, ankles, and toes.  It was an unimportant weave in the background of an evening meal.

The bowl was plain, unadorned, and unremarkable.  Serving platters and dining boards would all be placed on the table in preparation of the meal.  This bowl would sit in the corner, unheeded until necessary.  Like the towel, this bowl had a lowly function.  Like the towel, this receptacle was of little importance to the planned events of the approaching evening.

 

As the meal hour approached they began to arrive.  First one, then two and three, then a half dozen, ten, and finally the room was filled.  The smells of the evening's feast made hungry mouths salivate in anticipation.  The room was permeated with the din of conversations and discussions.  Some were jovial, some were heated, all were impassioned.  One man sat quietly taking it all in. 

 

This man had been observing the rest for some time, listening to the myriad conversations.  Occasionally a smile would cross his face and slowly melt.  It was evident he was absorbing from the rest, drinking in their words.  If one were to study this man for long, one would note a wave of sorrow pass over his face as if some distant memory or premonition would occasionally remove him from the moment.  As the room's volume soared, trays laden with food began to be brought out and the occupants eagerly engaged the fare and the conversations with renewed vigor.  There were even debates among some as to which of them were more important and who among them were worthy of  highest honor.

 

Quietly the man stood and walked over by the empty bowl.  Turning his back to the meal he removed his outer cloak and garments and stripped naked to the waist.  All discussions died to a murmur as he took the folded towel from the corner of the the table and wrapped his waistline with it.  He then proceeded to fill the bowl with water from a nearby pitcher.  Kneeling by those at the head of the table, he quietly began removing their dust laden sandals.  The room was now silent except for the sound of sprinkling water as he wordlessly washed road grime and dirt from their feet.  Using the towel, he dabbed water and remaining mud from their legs and feet.  First one, then another, he moved on to the next and then on the next as the observers gaped in nervous astonishment.

 

In each of their minds was the singular thought that this was the task of servants and slaves!  He who was performing this act, was no slave.  Each of them firmly believed he was chosen to rule.  As he gently bathed and caressed each foot, cleansing away past traffic and erasing evidence of paths traveled, each of them could only marvel that they should be the ones performing this act for Him, not this reversal of roles as it was playing out. 

 

Finally the last to be washed raised his hands in refusal.  Pride would not see the teacher stoop below the disciple.   "Unless I do this, you will have no part of me" was the reply.  Pride had no place here.  He went further to explain that each of them should be ready and ever willing to follow his example even to engage in, what is perceived to be the lowest act, to serve each other.  This was his way, humble, compassionate, and filled with love for one another.

 

Often we remember the "Last Supper" for the communion elements, as we should.  We remember it, too, for relevance of the Passover Feast to the Crucifixion and rightly so.  We'll even remember it for the calling out of a traitor and his 30 pieces of silver.  Far too seldom do we remember it for the lesson taught by a bowl and a towel.

 

 

 

 

If the Shoe Fits

I would tell you about the things they put me through

The pain I've been subjected to
But the Lord himself would blush
The countless feasts laid at my feet
Forbidden fruits for me to eat
But I think your pulse would start to rush

Now I'm not looking for absolution
Forgiveness for the things I do
But before you come to any conclusions
Try walking in my shoes

These lyrics are from a song and a band I used to regularly listen to a few moons ago.  I happened upon it recently and it struck a bit of a chord with me.  I'm pretty sure they do not share my worldview or even faith-views.  The words of this song speak of pain, a darkened road traveled and the permissible nature of paths chosen as a result - not exactly uplifting material.  None-the-less, there is a grain of truth in this that I find of interest and worth exploring in relationship to today's conversations regarding compassion, grace, and salvation.

Recent life events have placed my family firmly in the cross hairs of those who would criticize, judge, and cast stones.  It is, by now, no secret in these writings that friendships have been sacrificed, family has parted company, betrayals have been present, and few have truly been in the trenches with us for the duration.  For this I can honestly say I am thankful.  I am beginning to come to the place where I do not begrudge.  Rather I begin to identify with our Savior in Luke 14:25-27 where relationships with others are to be viewed as secondary in correlation to our fellowship and desire to follow our Lord - even at the expense of earthly relationships.

And where some would point to my past mistakes as evidence of missed callings and an incorrect perception of the Lord's will for my family; all I can say is "Try walking in my shoes".  But this ballad didn't recently catch my attention to become a personal anthem in which to chant to others in self defense.  Rather, what caught me was the notion that I have been failing to take note of the paths that others have been traversing to place them in the path of needed grace.  I have been lacking in my willingness to acknowledge the myriad routes others have been brought forth from and unwilling to readily offer deprived compassion.  As a result, I have often been blinded to the individual's heart condition, judging by appearances as many listed above have done to me.

In the verses from above, Jesus tells us we must take up our cross.  This is a familiar catch phrase in Christian Verbology 101, but we have so far to go in truly exploring the depth of the meaning of this simple phrase.  Repeatedly we read of Jesus' compassion for the individual and the masses.  It moved him, it directed him, it caused him to alter planned paths of travel, planned appointments, made him late for dinners, caused him to weep, at times made his stomach churn as it moved his inner most being.  This compassion caused him to engage on the recipients level - not sin, but engage.  In this state, he could relate, he could look the person in the eye and say "I know where your shoes have walked - I understand."

He knelt by the prostitute after those bent on her death had left muttering for being themselves shamed.  In kneeling next to her, he could look her in the face and say "I know where you've been, I know the darkened streets you've walked, I know about the men and it doesn't affect me - just stop doing it."  He could call to a height-challenged-cheat of a tax collector, call him out of the branches of  a look out tree and look him in the eye and say "I know about it all, I know you've stolen from your neighbors, I know no one likes you, but I don't care - I want to eat with you".  He can look at you and I and recite every despicable thought and action we've engaged in and looking us squarely in the face say "I know where you've walked, what you've done.  I know where your shoes have been and I don't care - I still want you."

This compassion, this grace, this love is the Cross.  This is the cross we are to daily pick up and walk out towards others.  This is the oil that binds the deepest wounds that are daily moving about us in the guises and facades that people cover over their hearts and minds.  This is Christ in us shining forth.  If the world around us saw this they wouldn't see the individual "christian" - they would see a Savior, they would see hope, they would see a purpose and a future.  They would see love.  Too often we want to share the gospel without engaging the heart and the heart cannot be engaged without compassion for the individual.  We have to walk in the love and compassion of our Lord before we can reach the one needing Heaven's touch.  The love of our Savior has to be present in us to be effective towards others - this requires understanding the path of another.  These are shoes we must all choose to walk in.