God’s love

The Wind of Hope

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By Linda Rex

The other day I was sitting outside in a garden when I felt a breeze begin to blow across my face. The tree branches swayed and bent with the movement of the wind. The air was comfortably warm, and the color of the deep blue sky contrasted with the browns and grays of the winter foliage.

As the gentle wind blew the trees about, I was reminded of what Jesus said about the Holy Spirit. He said we don’t really know where the wind comes from or where it is going. In the same way, he said, we don’t know where and how the Spirit is at work in someone. The Spirit is not a thing we control or manipulate—the Spirit is a person we have a relationship with.

It seems when we come up against struggles in this life or we experience difficulty with being unable to change what we would like to see changed, we often blame God or ourselves for it. If we are a believer in Christ, we may even accuse ourselves of not having enough of God’s Spirit, or not praying hard enough, or of not “being in the Word” enough. We pour out upon ourselves condemnation for our failures and shortcomings.

It is easy to lay the blame for much of our faults and difficulties at our own door. If only I had…. If I just would…. And often, there is good reason for us feeling we are to blame. There may be some basis in fact.

It is just as easy to lay the blame elsewhere, at other people’s feet. I wouldn’t have this problem if he hadn’t…. Or, if she hadn’t done that, then I wouldn’t be in this position right now. There’s always room to blame someone or something.

Yet Jesus, in his preaching, taught us to throw away all the stones. None of us should be casting stones at anyone else, since we are all equally guilty and at fault. There is no place for stone-casting in the kingdom of God (John 8:1-11).

We can forget, though, that we may still be in our stone-casting mode when it comes to ourselves. We may hold things against ourselves which God forgave a long time ago. In fact, God forgave it all millennia ago on the cross—so why do we hold onto it? Why do we wander about in the darkness, thinking we are rejected or unloved by God, when in reality he has forgiven and is forgiving us?

In our struggle against those things in our lives which do not reflect the glory of Christ we were created to bear, we can find ourselves wallowing in our failures. Life is a struggle, full of difficulties and pains and griefs. We are going to trip up and not live in the way we know we should. Other people are going to point the finger and remind us of our shortcomings. But what we do with our failures is critical.

We must not lie about them. The apostle John says when we act as if we don’t have any faults, we are lying and not walking in the truth (1 John 1:5-10). To lie about, ignore or deny our failures means we are walking about in the darkness. We are not walking in truth.

The truth is we are all walking in the Light of God’s presence in each moment of our lives. By the Spirit we are all in the presence of God at all times. There is no existence apart from God’s Being as Father, Son, and Spirit. Whatever we do, good or bad, is in God’s presence—to say we have not done anything wrong is to say something that God already knows isn’t true. So why even try to pretend we are perfect?

When Jesus ascended to heaven, he sent the Spirit from our Father—he gave us the indwelling presence of God within. This is a perfect gift, as it is the gift of an ongoing relationship with Abba through Jesus in the Spirit—a relationship we were created for and were intended to have from before time began. This relationship is not dependent upon our perfection, but solely dependent upon God’s infinite love which was demonstrated to us in his Son Jesus and what he did for us in his life, death, resurrection, and ascension.

The struggle we may have as individuals is receiving this gift and embracing the truth we live as forgiven sinners each and every moment of our lives. Sometimes the idol we need to cast down is the belief we could, if we tried hard enough, attain perfection of some kind in this life. This doesn’t mean anything goes, but rather we live daily in the humility of our creatureliness—we’re capable of the worst, but God has declared that’s not who we are. Rather, we are forgiven, beloved, and accepted in his Son Jesus—he is our saving grace.

Laying down the stones we’d prefer to cast at ourselves is hard to do sometimes. It may be that castings rocks at ourselves is the normal thing for us to do, since everyone who we truly cared about has done this to us—so we believe this is what we deserve. We may feel better, temporarily, about ourselves if we cast a few stones, because casting stones is easier than facing up to our failures and asking for forgiveness and help with them. There is some measure of pride in being able to cast stones at ourselves rather than humbly owning our need to repent and trust in Christ, asking him to transform us by his Spirit.

In their novel Healing Stones, Steve Arterburn and Nancy Rue create a character who struggles with a major personal failure and who desperately wants to make things right. At one point her counselor hands her a rock, and says to her, “…take this stone with you…and find a use for it besides throwing it at yourself.” The truth is, there are times when our worst enemy is ourselves. We can be more of an accuser than the Accuser himself—and save him the effort in the process.

We don’t always know what the Spirit is doing in us or in those around us. The process of healing is intricate and difficult, and very time-consuming. The work the Spirit does in a person’s mind and heart is often hidden and isn’t seen until after the fact—we see the effects, not the actual work the Spirit does.

We can participate in the healing process in others and in ourselves by throwing away our rocks and stones. In fact, we may even consider turning them into something useful instead. Rather than condemning others for their failures, perhaps we can help them–being honest enough about our own failures we could come alongside them and help them to grow and heal in ways in which we didn’t receive help and encouragement.

This opens up space for the Spirit to do an even greater work of healing and renewal. Sometimes our failures are, when we surrender them to the grace of God in Christ and the cleansing work of the Holy Spirit, the means by which the wind of the Spirit brings hope to others. In this way, we participate in the grace given in Jesus for all humanity and find healing for ourselves in the process.

Abba, thank you for embracing us in spite of our failures and weaknesses. Thank you for embracing us in your grace, in the gift of your Son and the Spirit. Holy Spirit, blessed Wind of God, blow in and through us, filling us anew with the heart and mind of the Father, through Jesus our Lord. Amen.

“The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit.” John 3:8 NASB

Signs of Spring

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By Linda Rex
For me, driving to the post office means taking a spin in my car through the Tennessee countryside. I get to see pretty ranches with horses and cattle, rocks and trees on the hills, and lovely homes in the valleys. I pass a pond where the ducks paddle about looking for tidbits to eat. Though right now most of the trees have no leaves and the ground is covered with brown leaves from last fall, there is still a quiet sense of beauty and the presence of God.

As I drove through the woods this morning, the road opened up to where I passed by a tall willow tree. Though the other night the tree was gray and seemed to be dripping sorrow, this morning it was covered with little green leaves. The difference was striking and quite beautiful.

On the ground nearby where grass was beginning to turn green again there were some yellow daffodils blooming their hearts out. The signs of spring were everywhere this morning. And I had to ask myself, as one who spent many a winter in southeast Iowa, what’s going to happen when it freezes again? It is only February—it’s too soon for all this!

In the story of Abraham and Sarah, we are reminded there are always signs of spring, even when the evidence tells us otherwise. God came to them when they were too old to have children, when their bodies were beyond the capacity for child-bearing, and told them Sarah would have a child. God presented them with a paradox of hope in which the only proper response would be faith—an implicit trust in the faithfulness and goodness of God.

We may find ourselves today in the winter of our lives where all our hope is dead and we don’t see any hope for new life. We may be stepping out into new ways of living and being, but all we are meeting with is opposition and resistance. And yet, it is good to be reminded these bleak and difficult times may be the very place where we experience the greatest new growth and transformation.

What we need in the midst of our winter or death and dying is hope. We need to see with the eyes of faith the evidence that spring is on its way. We need to recognize the reality that even when death is all around us, there is new life being birthed in that very moment.

During the season of Lent, we have the opportunity to reexamine the life of Christ at work within us and be reminded of how God has called us into relationship with himself in Jesus Christ. The Spirit enables us to see what is really going on in our hearts and minds, and in those areas we have turned away from Christ, he invites us to turn back again. At the basis of our examination, though, needs to be an assurance of God’s love and faithfulness to us as expressed in the gift of his Son and the pouring out of his Spirit.

We were created for life—life in close relationship with Abba and Jesus in the Spirit. The real life we were created for is a communion and oneness of being in which there is a mutual pouring out of and pouring into by each and every participant of God’s life. We make room for others as they make room for us. We make room for God as he has and does make room for us in Christ and by his Spirit.

It is the disruptions of this perichoretic life which we attend to during Lent. We may ask ourselves, “How am I participating in God’s life and love? Am I living in the truth of who I am as God’s child, made in his image? Does my life and how I live it orbit around myself, or am I keeping in step with the divine dance—receiving and giving—receiving what God pours into me and pouring it back out into God and others? In what ways should I turn away from myself and turn back to Christ and Abba, and out to those around me?”

The point of this contemplation is not to focus upon ourselves. If our examination of the life of Christ at work within us revolves around us and our failures, we have missed the point. This kind of self-examination only creates discouragement and defeat. It focuses on death and dying. And it does not attend to what really matters—the life of Christ at work within us by the Holy Spirit.

Our journey during Lent can echo Christ’s journey during his forty days in the wilderness. He was challenged by Satan to deny his identity as the Son of Man and to live out of his being as the Son of God. But Christ identified with you and me instead by choosing to live in total dependency upon his Abba by the Spirit.

This is our life. As Satan attempts to draw us away from this truth of our being, distracting us with all the ways we can live as gods and goddesses under our own steam, we can instead choose life. We can choose instead the eternal life Jesus spoke of which is the deep knowing of our Abba and the Son he sent. Instead of focusing on our failures and shortcomings, we focus on the reality Jesus stood in our place—his life for our life. We share in his perfect relationship with his Abba by the Spirit.

Instead of relying upon ourselves in self-centered living, we can live in total dependency upon Abba through Jesus in the Spirit. Satan and his ways of self-centered living are defeated foes. Death, evil, and sin may still be all around us, and still haunt the inner recesses of our mind and heart, but the true reality of our perfected humanity is hidden with Christ in God. There is life in the midst of death—hope in the midst of failure, sorrow, and defeat.

We need to attend to the signs of spring and ignore the overwhelming evidence of winter all around us. We need to walk by faith, not by sight. Christ is our life, and he lives within us by his Spirit. God is at work even now, and will not cease working to make all things new—in heaven, and on earth, and within us. And he will finish what he has begun—we have his word on this—and, thankfully, God always keeps his word. He is trustworthy.

Abba, thank you for your faithful and compassionate love. Thank you for your boundless grace expressed to us in the gift of your Son. And thank you for pouring into our hearts your precious Holy Spirit. Thank you for including us in your life through your Son in your Spirit. Grant us the grace to trust you will finish what you have begun in us, believing what you have in mind for us is far beyond our capacity to ask or imagine. May we leave winter behind and focus on spring, no matter how bleak things may look at the moment, through Jesus our Lord and by your Spirit. Amen.

“[Abraham] is our father in the sight of God, in whom he believed—the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not. Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, ‘So shall your offspring be.’ Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah’s womb was also dead. Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised. This is why it was ‘credited to him as righteousness.’” Romans 4:17b-22 NIV

Facing Our Dust

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By Linda Rex

Ash Wednesday/Lent
On Wednesday this week a few of us gathered at Good News Fellowship, and we spent some time reflecting on the meaning of Ash Wednesday and sharing the Lord’s table together. This year was a bit unusual because Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day were both celebrated on the same day.

In some ways there can be a disconnect between these two celebrations. As I walked around the local grocery store earlier in the day, the amount of fresh flowers and candy which were available for the customers was overwhelming. We watched people walking out the door with bundles of flowers, and my daughter and I speculated on who these flowers were for—a wife, a girlfriend or boyfriend, a mother, or someone in the hospital?

But the irony was, we were surrounded by all this abundance at the same time some of us were trying to determine what, if anything, we were planning to give up for Lent. Ash Wednesday is the beginning of the Lenten season and Lent is a time when we may in some way participate with Jesus in his forty days in the wilderness being tempted by the devil. We participate in Lent by heeding the Spirit’s call to repentance. During Lent, it is appropriate to offer something to God or give something up temporarily as a way of making ourselves available for the Spirit to grow, heal, and renew us. This is a spiritual discipline which has been practiced by people in the universal Church for centuries.

There is a perspective of repentance and humility we can gain by taking some time in somber reflection on our broken humanity and expressing to God our acknowledgement of our need for and utter dependence upon him. He is our Abba who not only made us and sustains us, but also redeemed us in his Son Jesus, and dwells in us and with us by his precious Spirit.

Many traditions offer a smudge of ashes upon a person’s forehead on Ash Wednesday as a mark of humility and an acknowledgement of our need for grace and salvation. The priest often uses the words of scripture: “All came from the dust and all return to the dust.” (Eccl. 3:20 NASB) That seems rather final to me. There is so much more to the story than we’re all going to end up in the ground, returned to the basics of our existence—the ground out of which we were made.

It seems to me, and this is just my opinion, that it ought to be possible to celebrate Ash Wednesday as a time of humility and hope. To me, I don’t feel we need to abandon our hope in the resurrection just because we are acknowledging our brokenness and need for Christ. As I offer the mark of ashes upon each one’s forehead, I like to say something to the effect of, “You came from dust, you return to dust. We thank the Lord of the dust he has joined us in our dust so we will join with him in glory.” The gospel tells us that death is not the end—there is so much more to our existence than this!

Thomas Torrance in chapter two of his book “Atonement” examines Psalm 49. Here he shows how the ransoming of a human soul or life is impossible for you or me. There is no price we could pay which would be sufficient to redeem any person from death. No matter how hard we may try, we cannot save ourselves. Our best efforts are insufficient.

God made us, the wonderful creatures we are, in his own image, to reflect his likeness. We are to be image-bearers of God himself. Yet it seems we prefer to image everything but God. And because of that, we invariably inherit death. We have, in essence, a “death-wish”—a corruption in our humanity which we cannot fight against or escape on our own.

God made us from nothing to have a glory which was a reflection of his. And all we seem to do is choose the path back to nothingness. As Athanasius said in “On the Incarnation”, in seeing his good creation falling back into the nothingness from which it was made, what was God, being good, to do?

What was God to do, indeed? As Torrance explains, God gave a life for a life—his life for the life of humanity. The great exchange is the Word of God, the true Image-bearer of Abba, given for you and me and every other human being who has ever existed, in our place and on our behalf. The Life for our life.

This is how we know we are loved by God. The apostle John writes, “We know love by this, that He laid down His life for us….” (1 John 3:16 NASB) Whatever Valentine’s Day may mean to each of us, we can know this: The true expression of love is found in the gift of Abba—his Son. The laying down of his Son’s life for you and for me and for every other human being on this earth is a true expression of genuine and faithful love. And no bouquet of flowers or box of candy could ever match that precious gift. The Life for our life.

So, even though we can and should admit our brokenness and our desperate need for salvation, we can also at the same time rest in the eternal embrace of God’s love and grace. We can face the dust to which we return without fear—death has lost its sting. In Christ, there is no fear of death left. We can see death for what it is—a defeated foe, a failed conqueror. Death and sin are cast into the fire of God’s love and grace and no longer reign triumphantly over us. And so we have hope in the midst of our humility.

Thank you, Abba, for your precious gift. Thank you, Jesus, for giving yourself in our place. Thank you, Spirit, for bringing this to full expression in each of our lives in your own special way. Our Loving God, we give you gratitude and praise, and offer you all our love and devotion, through Jesus our Lord. Amen.

“Why should I fear when trouble comes, when enemies surround me? They trust in their wealth and boast of great riches. Yet they cannot redeem themselves from death by paying a ransom to God. Redemption does not come so easily, for no one can ever pay enough to live forever and never see the grave. Those who are wise must finally die, just like the foolish and senseless, leaving all their wealth behind. The grave is their eternal home, where they will stay forever. They may name their estates after themselves, but their fame will not last. They will die, just like animals. This is the fate of fools, though they are remembered as being wise. Interlude Like sheep, they are led to the grave, where death will be their shepherd. In the morning the godly will rule over them. Their bodies will rot in the grave, far from their grand estates. But as for me, God will redeem my life. He will snatch me from the power of the grave.”
Psalm 49:5-15 NLT

Shining on the Mountain

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By Linda Rex


Years ago, I was looking through the books in the public library during my summer vacation from school when one author’s name on the spine of a book caught my eye. Back then people did not name their children Zane, and Grey was an unusual last name. Curious, I mentioned Zane Grey to my dad. He seemed to know who the author was, but he discouraged me from reading his books.

In later years, though, I picked up Riders of the Purple Sage and was surprised to find I identified with the heroine in the story. From then on, I was hooked and began looking for his books in all the libraries near where I lived.

The culture of the Old West presented in Zane Grey’s stories may have been embellished and not entirely accurate. But his presentation of the human heart and the human condition were impressive to me. He wrote of the worst decadence and oppressive evil we humans are capable of. He told stories of men and women who were so given over to evil they were enslaved by it and unable to free themselves.

But Zane Grey also told stories of the capacity of the human heart and mind to rise above all opposition and evil so as to stand against such evil and bring justice and hope to their community and loved ones. He wrote about the way people wrestled with their conscience and their limitations to eventually rise above it all and find freedom and hope.

In many ways we find these same kind of stories in the Bible—this is the human story. The Scriptures are filled with the raw honest truth about our failures as human beings—our enslavement to evil and sin. But they also tell the stories of broken, fragile humans who stand against evil and sin, and who, by God’s grace and power, bring hope, healing, and renewal to their families and communities. It seems that hidden within our broken jars of clay is a glory which cannot be buried.

It is amazing how God chose to enter into our broken humanity in the person of the Word, the Son of God. How is it that God could and would stuff his amazing divine glory into a few little cells? How was it that Jesus was able to hide for so many years the glory of God which was hidden within him?

And yet, this is what we see Jesus did. He may have healed people, cast out demons, and stilled the storm, but he was just as human when he got done as when he began. He spent a lot of time telling people not to share with others the truth about how he healed them or helped them. It was not Jesus’ purpose to shine with divine glory during the majority of his stay in human flesh here on earth.

What James, Peter, and John got to see on the mountain of the transfiguration was very special. They had their eyes opened to the reality of the true glory of Jesus. And they were stunned—they didn’t know how to react. Peter in his momentary delirium suggested building booths for them to stay in. But Jesus was only giving them a glimpse—he was not reassuming his eternal glory in that particular moment. He remained in his humanity—and told them to keep this event to themselves until after the resurrection.

It would take the death and resurrection of Jesus for the disciples to begin to understand what it was Jesus was doing. He had no interest in touting his own glory while in human flesh but rather chose to intentionally set it aside to share in ours. He was living in relationship with his Abba in the Spirit just as we are to. He was not living out of his divine glory, but rather sharing in our human glory—the glory God created in us as reflections of his glory as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

What Jesus did in his life, death, resurrection, and ascension was to sweep all of humanity up into his story as the Son of the Living God. It seems there is so much more going on in the world than just our everyday mundane lives. Each of us in Christ is now the hero or heroine who has the task of standing in opposition to all which is evil, sinful, and destructive no matter the cost to him or herself. In Christ we are included in the divine fellowship of Father, Son, and Spirit, and we are more than conquerors over anything the kingdom of darkness may choose to throw at us.

Our lives are hidden with Christ in God, so whatever we may be doing is a participation in Christ’s very life. Are we living like the evil villain in this story? Or are we acting as if we are the unexpected deliverer? Are we living the lie the kingdom of darkness is the real power at work in the world, or are we living out the truth that all evil, sin, and death were conquered over and swept away in Jesus Christ?

In sending his Holy Spirit to earth through his risen Son Jesus, Abba poured out the gift of his Presence and Power on all flesh. This gift is there for you and me—the indwelling Christ, the presence of God within our humanity—this treasure in jars of clay. We have a glory, a capacity which is beyond our comprehension. In Christ by the Spirit we are capable of more than what we often believe possible.

What we do with that gift is critical. Like taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read it, we can jump into the midst of the story and be a part of the action. Or we can leave it on the shelf, and never experience the thrill of the story, the anticipation of the ending, or the companionship of fellow journeyers. Are we going to go by what someone else said about the book? Or are we going to read it for ourselves?

Christ has done all which needs to be done to make this incredible story something we get to share in. Maybe it’s time to pull the book off the shelf.

Dear Abba, thank you for including us in this amazing story through your Son Jesus Christ. By your Spirit awaken us to our full and joyful participation in it. Open our eyes to see, our ears to hear, and our heart to know what is really going on: You dwell in us and call us to share forever in your divine fellowship of love and grace, through Jesus our Lord and by your Spirit. Amen.

“For God, who said, “Let there be light in the darkness,” has made this light shine in our hearts so we could know the glory of God that is seen in the face of Jesus Christ. We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.” 2 Corinthians 4:6-7 NLT

Night Vision

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By Linda Rex

There is a sawblade hanging on the wall upstairs with the picture of a goldfish swimming around in a bowl. The text I wrote on the picture when I was done drawing it with colored pencils was: “No more privacy than a goldfish.” It seemed to fit.

Over the years this sawblade has hung in various places in my different homes. It is always a reminder to me of the annoying reality that in some ways, we all live in the spotlight of others opinions and observations. Those of us in positions of leadership, whether in our home, work, or community, have to effectively handle being under the scrutiny of all sorts of people, knowing we influence others by what we say and do.

Take for example, poor Punxsutawney Phil. This famous groundhog is minding his own business, probably taking a long comfortable snooze in his den. He wakes up and wanders outside, and the next thing you know someone has grabbed him and all these photographers are taking snapshots. And whether he likes it or not, his shadow is said to forecast six more weeks of winter, the thought of which makes many people unhappy.

The truth is, no matter how hard we try to hide, we will at some point be exposed to the light of day. No matter how dark the night may be, in the end the earth will turn just enough the sun will shine on us again. No matter how gloomy our prospects, there is hope.

I believe there is a reason God ordained that the sabbath and holy days he gave his people Israel began in the evening. Each day began with rest during the darkness, which culminated with a new day of life. When the Word of God arrived on the scene, he showed up in the middle of the night, when it was dark. It was the entrance of God himself into our humanity, into our cosmos, which turned our night into a bright new morning.

Indeed, this motif is carried into Jesus’ last moments on the cross. There was some concern he would not be dead before sundown—the Jews didn’t want to be messing with anything like this when they were to be resting and observing a holy time. As the evening darkness approached, though, Jesus neared death. And then the sky darkened, and Jesus felt the full impact of our sense of our alienation and lostness.

Jesus went down into the depths of death—the blackness which has hovered over us since Adam and Eve’s missteps in the Garden of Eden. He experienced the full impact of our suffering and willingly bled and died. He was not overcome by death or darkness or evil. No, he entered into it, and then turned it on its head.

This shows the incredible love and compassion of our God who is Light. The Light entered our darkness. For him, our darkness was not a problem, because he was and is the Light—darkness does not impact him or alter him—he is the Creator and Sustainer of all things. Light and dark in this world only exist in and through him. Even evil has its existence only in what some call the permissive will of God. It is only by God’s grace such things continue.

So, we see Jesus was laid in a tomb, buried just as every other human is in some way upon death. He laid in the grave—the ultimate blackness and darkness we tend to fear as humans. But the grave could not and did not hold him. The next scene of the story shows the light of a new day dawning, and the stone rolled away from the tomb. We see the living Jesus speaking to his disciples and eating with them.

Whatever darkness we may face in this life, it is swept up into this darkness which Jesus experienced. Whatever death may come about in our lives is now a sharing in Christ’s death. Whatever dark moments we find ourselves in are a participation in those dark, bleak moments Jesus experienced in Gethsemane, on the cross, and in the tomb. No doubt, Jesus experienced just about every form of darkness we as human beings experience—being rejected and forsaken by his friends and family, being hated by the people who should have welcomed and embraced him, and being abandoned in his darkest hour by those who promised to be with him.

The miracle of Jesus’ ability to see in the dark was based in his eternal perichoretic relationship with his Abba in the Spirit. Jesus had true night vision. Our darkness was not too dark for him to enter—but rather the very place he came to in order to draw us up into the Triune relationship of love and life. Jesus dove into the blackness to rescue us from “the domain of darkness” and to transfer us to his kingdom as Abba’s beloved Son. (Col. 1:13 NASB)

Often our inability to see in the darkness, in the night of our brokenness in this world of shadows is because we are spiritually blind. We need to come to Jesus, like the blind men in Matt. 20:33 and say with them, “Lord, we want our eyes to be opened.” Jesus’ compassion is great, and he wants us to be able to see—he wants us to have true sight, especially in the dark night of our soul.

Too often we think we are seeing when in reality we are blind. We need Jesus to clear our eyes up so we can truly see as we ought. We need to guard against allowing ourselves to be deceived into thinking we are living and walking in the light, filled with the light of Jesus by the Spirit, when we are actually dwelling in and soaking up the darkness of unbelief. (Luke 11:33-36) Are we walking by faith or by sight?

What we can forget sometimes is, wherever we are, whatever we are doing, God is present and aware. Whatever we are experiencing in our lives, Jesus is intimately aware of and sharing in by the Spirit. We are not alone. Like the goldfish in a bowl, God sees everything about us, in us, and with us. He knows us down to our core and has shared it all with us in Jesus. He is present by his Spirit in every moment and in every situation. We are never left alone in the dark.

Abba, thank you for not leaving us alone in our darkness. Thank you, Jesus, for coming here and penetrating our darkness, overcoming it by your marvelous light. May you by your Spirit give us perfect night vision—the ability to see what is real and true: the great and never-ending, all-encompassing love and grace of you, our glorious God, and to know you are always in us, with us, and for us, through Jesus our Lord. Amen.

“If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,’ even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.’” Psalm 139:11-12 NIV

Bound Together in Community

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By Linda Rex

The door to my bedroom opened. In walked my daughter’s dog. She headed straight for the bed and jumped up on it. Rather than curling up at the foot of the bed as she often does, she curled up right next to me so her side was pushing against my body.

It seems my daughter’s dog understands better than we do sometimes the need for physical connectedness. She knows by instinct the need for relationship and belonging.

It is too bad we are often so busy pushing one another away or protecting our space, we end up alone and disconnected. We prefer our independence rather than understanding and living in the truth we are all interdependent. We cannot and should not live as separate satellites. This was not God’s intent when he created us.

I think it is interesting that when we pack ourselves together in big cities, people become more and more disconnected. We find ways to hide from each other and to protect ourselves from being harmed. We isolate ourselves and then wonder why we are lonely and depressed.

I was reading an online article this morning about these utopic wellness communities which are being created. They are places where people live together in natural and wholistic communities where their environment is kept as close to nature as possible, and in which people live together and interact together in a community life.

Unlike the inner city, such a community leaves room for people to interact with nature as well as with one another. There is space to just be out and free, rather than concerned about one’s safety and one’s belongings.

I first felt this sort of freedom when I moved to southeast Iowa many years ago. The place I moved to was out in the midst of rural Iowa where any city of any size was about half an hour to forty-five minutes away. Leaving the back door unlocked was the norm, and taking a walk in the woods was a normal daily occurrence when the weather was nice and one wasn’t working. Letting the kids roam at will in the outdoors was a just a part of everyday life.

I noticed a couple of things when I first moved there. The first and most immediate was a sense of relaxation, of rest. I was not in a constant state of subtle inner anxiety. I could just be. The self-protective angst of the big city was not necessary in the same way anymore.

The second thing I noticed and had a hard time getting my mind around, was how everyone knew everyone else. Relationships in a small community were the norm, not the exception. It seems if you didn’t open up and be friendly with your neighbors, that was more of a reason for talk than if you did.

The sense of community all of us long for is a precious commodity. Not all of us have the financial resources or the ability to move to some place which can be more conducive to such a way of life. But we can learn to live in community right where we are. We can learn to live in the rest and freedom of knowing we are included and held in God’s love and life.

In creating the Body of Christ, the Church, Jesus created a community where people who are sharing in God’s love and life are brought together into relationship. The work of the Spirit brings people to faith in Christ and binds them together in spiritual family. The Church then becomes a place of rest where people can grow in their relationship with God and one another, and can find themselves in a “safe” place. This is what the Body of Christ is meant to be for God’s people.

The Body of Christ is also meant to be a safe haven for those buffeted about by this world—a place where they can encounter the Lord Jesus Christ and experience a little bit of the kingdom of God on earth, and the love of God expressed in and through his people.

When someone enters the door of our fellowship hall or our chapel upstairs, they should feel as though they could come in and snuggle up against us, trusting we will not kick them out the door. This requires a lot of grace and understanding. It requires being able to set healthy limits on what we can do and can’t do as far as our behavior toward one another. The house of God is meant to be a place of order, of peace, and a place of worship—but also a place of welcoming, understanding, and grace.

In Christ, the kingdom of God was initiated here on earth. Over the centuries, the Church of Christ has taken on different forms and shapes. But the one identifying factor we can all cling to is that the Church is meant to be a reflection of the very nature and being of Jesus Christ himself. The Church is his hands and feet in a dark world. The Church is a place of hospitality and welcoming when all other doors are shut.

The Church is never meant to be a place of hurtfulness, abuse, or rejection. It is never meant to be a place of separation, cliques, or snobbery. When we find ourselves treating people in these ways, it is time for us to rethink who we are. As God’s children, made in his image, we all gather at the table to share the abundance of his goodness and love. May we never forget the blessings and benefits of sharing in his divine community, and let us never fail to share them with others.

Lord, I thank you for all you have done and all you are doing now, and all you will do, to bring us together into one body in Christ by your spirit. Open our hearts to the truth of our inclusion in your community of faith. Grant us repentance and a change in our way of living so we will begin to experience and live in the truth of how you created us to be as your children. Do continue to work to tear down the walls between us and to create places of community, peace and unity in our world, through Jesus Christ our Lord and by your Spirit. Amen.

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another, even as I have loved you, that you also love one another. By this all men will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.” John 13:34-35 NASB

Seeking Comfort and Relief

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By Linda Rex
My officemate and I were sitting at our desks one day. The whole atmosphere of the day had been pretty gloomy, with dark, cloudy skies, and endless buckets of rain. We both agreed it was a really good day for curling up with a blanket on the couch to read a good book.

Curling up in a chair or on the couch with a book and an apple was something I used to do a lot when I was younger. I loved reading—it was the way I escaped the boredom and unpleasantness in my life. I would bring home a stack of books from the library, and within a day or two, I would have read them all completely through. The books took me to worlds I would never visit in real life, and helped me learn things I would never learn in school or at home.

Somehow dark and rainy days always remind me of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. I haven’t figured out why, but I’m pretty sure it was a comfort food which my mom used to serve us when I was little. She would make homemade bread into patties, cut them open and put butter and honey on them—mmm. She had a lot of special foods she would serve us—she loved fussing over us in this way.

If we were to think about it, we could come up with a list of things we learned to do as children which give us comfort. As we’ve gotten older, the comfort measures we use can take on new, and sometimes, more dangerous forms. We have boundless opportunities around us to distract us. Nowadays, it’s much easier to escape and find relief in these things than it is to face up to and deal with the unpleasantries and responsibilities of life.

While I’m all for having enjoyable pastimes and comfort foods, I’ve noticed it is really easy to become dependent upon these things and drift away from our sole dependency upon God. Instead of being attentive to the real desires in our hearts for connection, healing, and community, we numb ourselves with distractions and pleasures.

The psalmist, King David, reminds us the only rock and salvation is God alone. He is the only thing or Person we are to place our hope in, because he is the only One who can truly be counted on in every situation. Whether it is rest, comfort, peace, or even our value as human beings—there is only one Place where we are truly and always affirmed, beloved, and held.

Too often our relationship with God is a place of anxiety and distress rather than one of life and peace. Most often, our anxiety and distress is unnecessary, for, as the apostle Paul says, “If God is for us, who is against us?” (Romans 8:31b) When our distress and anxiety is valid, it is only because we have not seen God for who he really is—gracious, longsuffering, and kind, but loving enough to hold us responsible for the things we say and do which destroy or break our communion with God and others. Perhaps he is calling us to humble ourselves and turn back to the direction we know in our hearts we should have been going in the first place.

It is important for us to be attentive to what is going on in our hearts and minds, and to not distract ourselves away from it. We need to wrestle with our desires and pain and anger, and to not deny it, numb it, or wish it away. It’s there for a reason. Pain and anger are signals we or our boundaries have been violated. True desire is the heart of God at work in our hearts, calling us to what is holy, pure, and a real reflection of the nature and being of the God who created us in his image.

Truth be told, we live in a society which is filled with distractions. Much as I love my smartphone, I realize it’s capacity for keeping me from dealing with the things which really matter. If I am feeling an ache in my heart regarding my need for connection with God or others, it is easier to flip on the radio in my car than it is to have that meaningful conversation. Rather than dealing with the heartache or worry which is boiling inside, it’s so much easier to flip on my computer and bury myself in a game or a social media site.

But God calls us into relationship with himself and with others. And relationships are a messy business. And relationships require space and listening to hearts.

God also calls us into silence–into quieting ourselves in his presence so we can hear what’s going on in God’s heart and ours. Silence is a spiritual discipline which has been practiced by Christians for centuries. It involves taking time away from all distractions, and opening ourselves up to the work of the Holy Spirit. Being silent and undistracted means making ourselves fully available to God for inner work he wants to do in our hearts and minds.

Since this can be uncomfortable for us, we need faith–the faith of Christ. Our hope and trust must be fully in the God who created us and holds us in his love. Everything rests on him. And that’s a good thing, for he is the only One who can carry us and sustain us in each and every situation within which we find ourselves.

Dear Abba, you are truly trustworthy and faithful. Thank you for your love and grace in your Son Jesus. By your Spirit, please enable us to wait in silence for you, and to be attentive and obedient to your heart and mind. In your Name we pray. Amen.

“My soul, await in silence for God only, for my hope is from Him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my stronghold; I shall not be shaken. On God my salvation and my glory rest; the rock of my strength, my refuge is in God. Trust in Him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us.” Psalm 139:5-8 NASB