Koinonia - Devoted Christian Lindbeck

"Flex" Hold the Rope: Missions Month - Hans Erchinger-Davis, Yvonne Cartwright, Christian Lindbeck

Shattered lives,
hollowed out souls; 
empty eyes
shadowed with shame;
welcome.
Caught in the downdraft
eddying slow,
here's my hand;
welcome.

Success is not what you think it is:
jailing and torture,
deprivation,discrimination,
isolation,
are the seeding grounds
for growth.

Do not seek trouble
but flex with it;
look with new eyes,
adapt.

Trust 
and adjust.

Consider. Jessica Mumley

Galations Series Revelation 4-5 Tim Knipp

Transformed: Easter 2020 - Christian Lindbeck

Suspended between heaven and earth,

between God and man,

splayed like an insect,

pinned,

excoriated,

spat on;

serrated breaths

catch and snag,

carpal bones grind,

tarsals strain.

His beloved head

drips crimson sweat,

His eyes blur with torment,

His heart lacerated

by betrayal,

denial

and viscous hate.

Yet He summoned strength

to whisper, “Forgive them”

and offer hope to an expiring thief,

like Him,

condemned to a slow,

cruel death

upon an

intersection of

splintered wood.

Yet today,

this tool of torture

and intimidation,

like swords into ploughshares

is transformed,

rehabilitated –

its ugly associations shattered.

Two intersecting beams

become shorthand,

a universal symbol

of hope.

The crux imissa

becomes the Cross of Christ.

Transformed

as we are when we see Him newly raised,

whether in a graveside garden,

daubed in dew;

along a footpath to Emmaus,

or crouched beside a beach fire,

picking fish bones from his teeth.

From life

to death

to life: the sequel,

transformation and renewal

have been His goal.

All nature echoes this motif:

winter melts to spring,

each dawn is born anew;

narcissus bulbs burst forth

in heady abundance

despite a fearful virus

on the loose.

As the seed sprouts in dark soil –

crucified with Christ –

so death produces life –

I no longer live but Christ lives in me.

As rotting vegetation

leeches nutrients to enrich the earth –

united with Him in death –

new life springs heavenward –

united with Him in resurrection.

Transformed.

Renewed.

Hallelujah!

True Worth: Galatians series - Tim Knipp (Gal. 6)

To be held in high esteem
we strive daily,
whether earned or feigned,
the goal remains:
to avoid abasement
and ridicule,
to maintain a firm grasp
of our self-perceived selves
though the outlines tremble.

Yet all that
is shifting smoke -
see it waver, fade,
dissolve.

The only honor 
worth clinging to
is what Christ did for me.
I no longer need 
the world's esteem -
that false measuring stick
that zeroed out my Lord
and tried to color Him shamed
by an obscene 
and ignominious end.

He, and He alone
can set my value
because He fooled them
by having power
even over death.
He clothed Himself
with our shame -
yours and mine -
then ripped it from Him
and rose
to claim His well-deserved
throne.

Today, once again
foundations have shifted.
Identities have proved translucent,
no longer holding sway
and we wonder 
who we are
apart from familiar constructs.

Yet Paul reminds us:

Trust not in yourself
or your reputation or riches
but in Christ's life,
His death
and resurrection.
Everything about Him 
declares our worth
and as we cling to that,
He transforms us
into diadems --
mirrored fragments --
refractions
of His glory.

Shine on.

Choosing the True: Galatians series - Christian Lindbeck (Gal. 13: 19-24)

We sing to you, oh, Mighty One.

Listen between breaths
to the whispers
that sing sibilantly
and coax us
into a deeper love,
into a closer and closer
facsimile
of Christ.

We know that ugly
behavior
results in ruin
and destruction -
seeded as it is 
by licentiousness
and selfish desire.

Put it aside.

You are recognized
as His own
when you choose 
love. joy. peace.
and all that flows
from these.

Let everything else
fall way
and grasp His hand -
unseen and impalpable
though it may be.
Hold to what you know
is True.

The True is
solid as a fortified tower
rising up
in the desert;
no fleeting mirage
nor subject to
whims of erosion
from the siroccos 
of time.

It is more true
than all that 
I hold dear in this life;
more true 
than all that I count on
daily
to delight,
sustain, and
color my life.

The Truth 
is greater than
all I fear,
see how it endures
in spite of me.

If I turn my back
on Truth
and choose my self,
wreckage 
will trail in my wake.

If I chose the True,
even though I stumble,
sweet fruit will bud
and grow within me.

As I walk
with uncertain
toddler steps,
I will try to match mine
to the imprints
of the Spirit,
see them embedded
in sand,
one by steadfast
one.