Dynamic Dinner Party - Who is Jesus series; Brady Bobbink (Luke 7:36-50; Ps. 51:16)

Rule-lovers need narrow channels -
the fewer choices, the better.
Concerned with appearances, 
we wear granite masks,
as if daring others to challenge
our piety.

So Simon set Jesus up
by playing at host
but pointedly 
ignoring the niceties
of water and oil.
An assembled crowd of fans
hovered in the background,
the shadow people:
extras, nameless and faceless.
Among them was
"a sinful woman" - 
one who knew too well
her role and how it had
marked her.
Something alien to the usual
acceptance of her low status
propelled her into the spotlight:
a hunger - too greedy
to be ignored - for just a touch.

Knowing the dirt that clung
to her soul, 
perhaps she could not abide
the sight of his 
dust-coated soles,
He, who was cleaner than clean
inside.
Coming out of the shadows,
head bowed
and tears flowing,
she was moved beyond shame
to gulping sobs
of hope.
Focused on his feet,
she broke multiple taboos,
using her hair as a sensuous towel,
kissing his toes
and drenching them
with perfume well beyond
her pay grade.

Into the awkward silence
that followed this
audacious act,
Simon sniffed,
passing instant judgement
on the would-be prophet.

Jesus responds with a story
and Simon hears
but comprehends not.
Jesus pushes into his 
self-imposed darkness:
"Look at this woman. See her."
Still Simon is blind,
seeing only her past
and missing her heart.
Her gift of gratitude
outshone Simon's
religiousity
for she gave it with a
broken and contrite heart.

The Prince of Peace
offers hope
and new life -
a life free of shame
and full of verdant growth,
where all things 
are possible. 

Where is Your Joy? Where is Your Sorrow? - Tim Knipp (Who is Jesus series)

A sense of dislocation,
loss, 
injustice.
Moments of elation
and peace.
Scientific anomalies
or hints of greater purpose?

Feasts and celebration,
our inheritance
and promise -
the wedding festival
symbolic of the joining
of God and man,
when pain and death
will be forever banished.
In Cana,
a literal wedding feast faltered
and the figurative trembled
at the ominous
foreshadowing: wine as blood -
the hour
of 
death.

Stone jars,
unadorned and ordinary,
were filled. Alchemy transformed water
to well-aged wine
in overflowing abundance
to jump-start the celebration.

Our God is a joy-bringer
who created us for happiness,
a warrior against 
agony, betrayal
and all sorrow -
those enemies of our souls.
Each rising of hope
and sparkle of delight
has significance,
scattered like spangled stars
to light our way
back 
Home.

John 2;1-11 Isa. 25:6-8

John 2;1-11 Isa. 25:6-8

The Call - Tim Knipp - Who is Jesus? series

The grand adventure calls to us all,
stirring deep longings,
and yet
we settle for mediocrity
in the day to day.
Are we simply a cosmic accident
or important 
characters embarking 
on a hero's journey?

At the end of a long night shift,
an exhausted fisherman
is drafted and grudgingly
shares his boat.
Fighting yawns,
he listens,
knuckles denting
grizzled cheeks,
intrigued.
After talking 
comes the absurd request -
"Let down your nets."
When logic fails,
Simon obliges.
Muscles screaming
and head throbbing,
he and his partners toss
freshly cleaned nets
into slate colored water.

Then the impossible happens -
nets fill beyond capacity
in dawn's milky light -
and Simon chokes
on his fear.
This is not a world he recognizes
and he clutches his 
small understandings
and squeezes his eyes shut,
saying, "go from me."

Jesus gently reaches down,
invites Peter from his 
calloused knees
and into a bigger story.

The choice is between
the predictable world
that logic and science dissect,
a world that can be measured
and quantified -
coins counted by a miser
behind closed shutters -
and the unknown
adventure story
filled with causes that matter
and a Hero whose heart
can be trusted.

Becoming God's Storytellers - David Knebe; 11/23/14

A mandate of words:
grace-full
and spicy discourse
wielded well.

Stories draw
better than formulas
and dry,
four-point laws -
as humans are more pleasant
with flesh covering bone.

Humans are flawed characters,
facing conflicts
and antagonists,
braving adversity
and choosing
the wrong door more often than not,
but loved
unreasonably
by a brave, self-sacrificing
Hero.
Living within that story
will flavor our words.
Knowing the Hero intimately,
we will brag on Him
and smile fondly.
Connections can spark
from common, day-to-day
tinder.

Wait for the power...
ask...
trust...
and tell.

Act Like a Missionary, Carlo Furlan; 11.9.14 (Luke 10:25-37)

Late posting... needed new printer ink. Better late than never...

Act Like a Missionary, Carlo Furlan; 11.9.14 (Luke 10:25-37)

Do this and you will live:
show compassion 
on a hazardous road
to your wounded foe.

The letter of the law
will fail you;
your sparkling reputation
will do no good
if you
walk on by.

To feel the pain of others
we must walk
slowly enough,
with eyes alert.
The tender heart responds
to another's needs
at any cost.
No inconvenience
is too great; 
no physical discomfort,
no social awkwardness
or financial insecurity
can compare
with the blessedness
of giving.

"He is no fool who gives
what he cannot keep
to gain
what he cannot lose."
-- Jim Elliott

"See and Feel Like a Missionary" - Brady Bobbink; Matt. 9:35-38, Col. 3:12

Moved with compassion,
He healed and called,
saying, "Come."
Gaunt faces
and empty hands
lifted and multiplied,
baking in the dusty sun.
A horde of the hungry
flooded the streets,
sweat rivulets prickled
and steamed,
the stench of a river
of packed humanity
overwhelming.
Yet Jesus smiled
at the ripe harvest,
hearts riven by fear
and harassement,
and likened them 
to lost sheep.
He saw through
the calloused exteriors
and felt their wounds;
saw through their eyes;
was moved by compassion
to action.

Pull on the garment of compassion,
put off revulsion
and apathy.
Dress in empathy
and pray for harvesters -
compassionate reapers
with tender tools.
Ask.
      Come.
                   Go.

Jonathon Lytle - Think Like a Missionary

If I see each person I come into contact with in his/her personal context, I can present the Good News in a way that it can actually  be heard... and received. Help me, Lord, to see.

Think Like a Missionary, Jonathan Lytle; 10/26/14

Translating grace requires empathy -
stepping into 
the skin of another
to see with their eyes;
hear with their ears;
and feel their heart beat
from the inside out.

Translation is not adaptation -
true is true.

Admitting the bad news
already recognized,
noticing the false saviors,and locating the glimmer
of hope
will serve us well.

Paul spoke to the heart
of the Philippians,
calling them "citizens"
of heaven -
speaking words that
resonated -
sending tremors
that called them by name
and helped them see.

Americans know that things
will never satisfy,
but still we amass them;
we hold ourselves up
as self-rescuers but fail
again and again;
we feel fractured and false
and yet hope for a real love
that will fill the cracks.

Yet knowing individuals
requires listening
and hearing each person's story,
giving their fears
and failures dignity,
caring for them as individuals -
not conquests
or potential jewels
in our own crown.

Each of us is a human being,
created by God
and therefore loved.

Life on Mission, 10/19/14 - Dan Pursley

Out and back,
the swing creaks,
feet pump -
up, up,
and
down, down:
the arc of giving.

Casting off
into space
takes hope -
one trusts the sweet air
and aims
for the clouds.
Suspended between
out and back,
earth patchworks below:
poverty warps,
crime weaves hardened
strands into hearts,
hope-starved souls
stare glassy-eyed
or strut
like comedians taking pratfalls
for cheap laughs.

We can go through motions
and play the part,
but still be
the wounded walking.

Compassion heals
but takes more
than pat answers
and dollar signs.
Pray.
Seek God's heart.
Pray in earnest
and complete the arc.

Out and back -
gravity does the second part
reliably.

What Drives You - Tim Knipp

God uses our very weakness to forward His plan as He changes our identity.

No Longer Lost, Tim Knipp 10/5/14 (Gen. 11:27)

No Longer Lost, Tim Knipp 10/5/14 (Gen. 11:27)

Lost and alone -
flesh drips off bones
and wind
whistles through
the ribbed cage;
my knees rattle.

Stuck
between the origination
and 
the ultimate destination,
between the desire
and
the realization;
God calls 
into the void,
offering hope
to His lost child,
offering  purpose
to a barren future,
offering Himself
to a confused heart.

Future generations
hang in the balance
as God
calls into the void.
He has a thing
for lost creatures,
relentlessly pursuing us -
the beam of light 
bouncing through trees,
- the voice calling above the storm,
- the father with arms open wide,
- the mother who leaves 
the porch light on.

God Came Down, Tim Knipp 9/28/14

The world intended: Eden's goodness.
The world as it is: deformed by sin.

Moving east (away from God)
we settle 
for less.
The power to create - 
potentiality -
hums and sparks
as God
intended
but
to what end?
To carve our names
into earth's flesh,
identifying ourselves
as individual
entities?
To stare at our own image,
mesmerized?
To cling to what is safe
instead
of trusting the Unknown?

We believe the lie
and cling
to material identity:
I own, 
therefore, I exist.
to sexual identity:
I arouse,
therefore, I exist.
to cultural identity:
I hate,
therefore, I exist.

Hubris rises,
a stench to God,
as the bricks
of separation mount.
Seated on high,
with heavenly armies
at His command,
God
comes 
down.
Yawheh descends.
No minion messengers
will do
to deal with the threats
of sin and death and fear;
only a personal
encounter 
will do.

And so,
God came down.

The Flood of Justice, Carlo Furlan, 9/21/14 (Gen. 6-9; Ez. 33:11; Matt. 24:37)

Violation -
the flayed flesh,
raw and quivering;
betrayal of trust;
the twisting
and 
perversion
of all that was once
good.
Corruption clings like cancer
to the human race.

Our God grieves
over hearts of stone
that have chosen
wickedness
and perpetuated
pain,
but He will not wait forever:
the rains will come.

Enough will be enough.

It will be like this: 
the clock will chime
and judgement will begin.

Am I ready
for the "exam?"
 Do I isolate myself
and cram for it,
focusing only on
the next world?
Or do I do good 
in this world
because of the world to come?
How many wasted hours
am I guilty of?
How many wounds
bear my mark?

Every wound leaves
two scars on
God's heart -
one for the receiver 
and one
for the perpetrator.
See how He bleeds!

Who will bring any
charge against those
whom God has chosen?
It is God who justifies.
Jesus pleads my case
because He knows me.
He recognizes Himself in me -
a faint and minor 
resemblance,
but 
He claims me, even so.

Carlo Furlan - Genesis 4- The Flood

A way of escape is available!

Tim Knipp - God's Response to Evil & Suffering

Why is there pain? Tim Knipp (Gen. 3:16; 4:1-2a; 4:25-26

Consequences ripple
from the apple's crunch.
Having chosen self,
the universe 
spins out of control.
Volcanic birth
is just the beginning,
the nature of families
becomes pain.



She "like God"
creates a man:
a son, Cain,
            (her heart swollen with pride).
Who knows
why Abel was an afterthought,
perhaps the effort was too much
or the gender a disappointment...
but his birth seems
inconsequential -
how quickly miracles pale.

Cain was his mother's son
and swelled up in anger
at God's reprimand -
oh, if only he 
had turned from self and sin
as God advised.

A mother's lament claws
at the heavens,
as much for the loss of Abel
as for the stained hands
that exile Cain -
both children ripped first from the womb,
and then
from her life.

Real choices lead to real
consequences.

In the years that followed,
did Eve's thoughts
return to God's words
warning her of the pain
she had chosen?

The gift of Seth,
granted by God's grace
seemed to soften her heart
and several ripples later
the people turn
and once more the universe
is righted.

Could pain be necessary -
a megaphone to my deaf ears?

It certainly does not defeat God.
Even the most atrocious,
unthinkable actions or events
 cannot thwart His purpose
or dim His love.

What happens when 
the ripples of pain
meet the tide
of grace?

Loss and Hope, Tim Knipp; Gen. 3:21; Ez, 36:34; Song of Sol. 1:15, 2:13; I Kings 6; Rev. 22:1-2

We lost a way of being
and often, 
reaching
for a presence 
that used to comfort,
touch air
and 
aching absence.

An unmet yearning
throbs
beneath the current
of life,
pulsing out
reminders 
of dislocation.
But look closely,
see the tiny thread
of golden hope
sewing up the wounds,
igniting zeal,
suggesting 
the possibility
that work may once again
satisfy;
that love might flourish
and finally
be enough;
that men and women
might stand side by side,
co-laborers in the garden.

Since our ousting,
God has pined for our presence,
his loss 
as gaping as our own.
So He turned the flaming sword
upon Himself:
willing to endure further pain,
the dissecting of His soul,
to meet with us again;
to talk face-to-face
and walk
along streets glistening
with gold
under ruby-flowered trees. 

Serpent Theology, Gen. 3; Tim Knipp

Serpent Theology, Gen. 3; Tim Knipp

Am I loved?
Is there a Creator
and if so, 
what is He like?
Is He a dictator
who denies His creations
more than He grants?
Or a benevolent
provider,
generous and wise?
Is He impersonal 
and distant,
withholding pleasure
at whim?
Or deeply concerned
and impeccably
good?
 
Caught between 
extreme perspectives,
I try to straddle both,
accepting half-truths
and half- lies,
swallowing serpent theology
like a necessary
vitamin
that chokes my faith.
The attack 
on God's character
is subtle and smooth,
keying into my deepest fears
and the 
underlying terror of
being wrong 
about His goodness.
So I bite,
and for a nano-second
am pleasure-sated,
but after,
after...
in the oh, so long afterwards
I taste the bile
of deception
and then I see:
- how capable I am of treachery,
- how poison now floods my veins,
- how stupidly I fell
      for the serpent's lie
               again.
Oh, how I need 
redemption!

You shall surely die: Genesis 3

It was a kind of death,

the opening of my eyes;

never again would I see the world

as freshly created

in breathtaking innocence –

each serrated fern frond

a message from the Maker’s

sweet scented breath.

Red-hot shame suffused

my face when

I glanced at Adam

for without being told

I knew that his nakedness

was now twisted;

the pleasure and

amazement I once felt

in gazing at his muscular

flesh now threatened to

undo me.

Covering my own nakedness –

my hips seemed grotesquely wider

than I remembered –

I cowered

and trembled at every shaking shadow;

I had never noticed that for every glimmer

of golden light

a slender darkness hugged the underside

flicking in and out with the breeze

like a slithering tongue.

Then we heard the Creator’s footsteps

and instinctively dove deeper

into the musky shadows.

I could feel Adam’s breath

hot with fear,

stuttering on my shoulder.

He called to us and Adam answered –

it's not like he had a choice –

but then Adam was pointing at me,

drawing me into beam

of the Maker’s stern gaze

and I couldn’t take it;

I panicked and

pointed to the serpent,

stretched out on a boulder,

twitching its tail in pretended innocence.

Having traced the crime

through its multiple sources,

He paused a moment

before pronouncing our sentences.

Then, in a voice more of sorrow

than anger,

He called out the snake’s inner qualities –

made them external;

if he would creep let him creep,

and then the Creator surely only pronounced

what was already forming

in my heart:

a deep hatred for the slimy beast,

and gave me permission

to act on it.

Just as I was feeling vindicated,

He turned to me

but instead of slaying me

as I deserved,

instead of annihilating my womb,

and scarring my face,

He promised me pain

that I would remember my deception,

and hunger for Adam

who would stand above me,

that I might pity

the crawling serpent

below me.

Even Adam wasn’t exempt:

his calling to work

would no longer satisfy

without exacting a harsh price

from his flesh,

and after a lifetime of toil

the only sure reward

would be this thing called death.

Silence swirled around us,

made visible in the mists

rising with the coming of dusk.

Adam and I stood, naked and

shivering, uncertain if

the worst was over.

Looking into our eyes

as if to be certain we knew

that this too, was a result of our sin,

the Creator of all things

destroyed one of His creations.

A magnificent leopard

that moments before had rubbed its

spotted head against Adam’s

dangling hand

lay sprawled before us

without breath.

Stunned, we watched the infinite care

with which our Maker

removed the animal’s skin

and

used it to clothe us.

The inert form of the

naked leopard lay

like a pale stone

as

He took us both

by the hand

and

walked us

out of the

starlit

garden.