Human Touch, and Divine

There are joy-filled touches in human relationships. Hurts and joys felt so deeply, they threaten to undo us.

In a theater with family the other evening. My arm is around my wife, and my hand rests on the skin of her upper arm. The tenderness in that moment plowed through my soul with such force, I lost track of the movie, and time. I only wanted to feel and hold onto her and that fleeting instant.

Cradling my grand-daughter in my arms, then laying her in my lap and looking in her eyes. She begins to coo and speak with me. I speak and am quiet. She "speaks," then waits. Eventually, she wiggles her entire body trying to "say" what is in her. She smiles and I melt.

Sometimes when my children hurt or are sick, I'll hold them and tell them I'm leaking love into them. Or I'll say I'm soaking healing into them through my embrace. And I believe it.

What does love look like? I'm not always sure. But I know what it feels like. It stops time, it suspends my needs, it invokes deep passion for the better of the other.

I think of Jesus calling his Father, "Abba." The word is like our "Daddy," or "Papa." We are told the relationships within the Trinity are perfectly loving. I want to understand that. I want to believe that when I make my noises and wiggle with my fears and strive in my praying that somewhere, somehow God hears me and gets it. And then, I want to believe God begins to embrace and leak love into me...

Take peace in such hope.

The Importance of Human Touch: The Way of Honesty

It is a difficult thing to pay attention to our conversations, relationships and simply being in the presence of others. We rely so heavily on cliche, routines and posturing. From the opening moments of human interface these relational habits kick-in with the force of the most powerful addictions. What do I mean?

"Hi, how are you doing?"

"Fine!" A pause and tilt of the head sideways. "And how are YOU doing anyway?"

"Couldn't be better," he lies.

Fake smiles--yeah I've been caught in a few. I had a guy in one church that would give me back my Guy Smiley smile every time I posed it.

Why can't we live in the real world? Why can't we truly mean what we say, interface with sincerity and truly touch one another with authenticity? You need to be seen today. Has anyone looked at you? Has anyone studied your eyes and your face and really asked about you? You need to be heard today. Is anyone listening?

Would you touch someone this day by making a real conversation--by being honest when you are with them and looking them in their beautiful eyes and expressing some form of human contact? Would you listen to someone who needs to be heard.Oh God, please help us love each other!

Sometimes when people tell me I'm special, I'm tempted to think they just like being loved. They just think it's cool being seen, or heard, or spoken to in the present tense and moment... Funny idea, isn't it?

For more on this topic click here.

Higher Ways and A "Calling"

This morning I'll read of Isaiah having a vision of God in the temple. And I hope to wonder aloud about my own visions of the Invisible One, and the ways that One encouraged me to pursue. As a child, when I wanted to kneel in front of the sanctuary like the adults...was there something profound in that? I still remember it forty-four years later.

And then in a fifth grade Social Studies/Geography class I said for the first time what I wanted to be..."A diplomat." That vision remains a clear and distinct calling for me to this day. I represent one kingdom, while living in another--or several others.

And in church youth camp, "I want to be a missionary." And I have been, and always enjoy trips to teach or serve in other cultures. Then in college, "I want to run a retreat center and just help people be away and think about their lives and faith." Oh yes, I've enjoyed speaking at dozens of retreats and still hope a retreat director position could be a part of my future.

And in my twenty-second year, "I want to really know that I know the one I believe in. I want to be real." And those words drove me to a month of desperate seeking and a lifetime of longing.

Let me ask you: As you retrace your journey, where have you been confronted by the Holy One and desires that seem to come from those visions? Are you open to God's calling? What part of you resists? What part of you is still awake?

If you haven't read my novel The Runaway Pastor, you can see the first seven chapters by clicking the link above and on the right. And if you want to read my newest--BREAKERS--you can go to the post immediately below and find links to read it.

Grace and peace to you.

Light Dwelling

The sun is coming up. It's been at it for a couple of hours now...a slow crescendo of light. Our cabin doesn't receive those unimpeded beach sunrises. Instead, as soon as the glow strikes the horizon to the east, a filtered green begins to weave its way through leaves and branches. The filter-surviving illumination is a magical, velvety green; dark and light hues and all shades in between blanket our home and our yard.

Somewhere late in the morning the sun tops the oak forest and spills its intensity. Those garden plants which require "full sun" begin soaking up their daily, if abbreviated, supply of glow. And so do I, if I'm here on the hill. And then, before the afternoon is gone, shadows cross the lawn once again. Shade-loving plants sigh their relief, and the filtered light--now from the west--lays like some life-giving fog over our home.

I'm trying to learn the ways of light. I want to live in it, and I want to appreciate its nuances. When the sun is up, yet filtered green, it is still daylight on Sam's Hill. And somehow, this sea of green tempers into a kinder form, what can be a powerfully depleting day-long shine.

Sometimes you feel that God is distant, and other times you wish there were some God-filter to temper holy light. I'm trying to be patient with whatever form of light I receive. And I'm trying to appreciate the nuances.

Peace to you light seekers...

Ministry and Beard Trimmer Batteries

Sorry no new stuff yet. This week I expected I'd be flying high. I'm fresh back from vacation, and yet already feel pooped. Recharging my batteries seems to take longer than it used to. And the charge just doesn't last for very long. My soul is no longer an Ever-Ready Bunny.

I have a beard trimmer that is much like me. When I first got it, months would go by without the need to recharge its battery. But now, the tool is aged and on constant life-support. Often it fades into a torture-inducing, whisker-tugging instrument before it can even finish one complete trimming.

I need to replace my beard trimmer--its battery is shot.

But I keep on trying to squeeze just one more use out of it. The good news is, I can get a new one...

I'm counting on Isaiah's words, that if I wait...my strength will be renewed. But maybe someone someday will just make the call, and do the replacement thing with me.

Human Touch, and Hard to Reach Places

Have living and longing ever been aching neighbors in your soul? Life in a full-contact world with its disloyalties and treasons, its touching-caressing--intimate chasms--ahh, the people I meet often express in words--or without them--a deep and desperate longing to be known. To be touched in some invisible place where touch is life. And surely there is no physical way to reach so far as to touch a soul, unless it be with spirit?

Do you think the woman caught in adultery and brought to Jesus early in the morning--evidently after a night in adulterous passion--do you think she had any aching longings? Do you think the tryst had been planned for a week or so, that she had wept at the kitchen sink thinking of the damage her longing might cause? Was she aching when she rendezvoused for the illegitimate night, or when she was caught and dragged into public--her aches being shouted as accusations into the public gathering? (And what about the guy that evidently was escaping the mob? Where is he?)

I'm thinking of Eleanor Rigby again, but look at each face in the mob, look at the woman facing certain death by stoning. Look at the people watching, and those being handed stones and then look at the face of Jesus. In the midst of all the aching longing in that public courtyard, Jesus alone was ready to touch everyone present in a deep place where no one can reach with a hand, or scalpel. Maybe he was humming Eleanor Rigby?

He disbands the crowd with words that affirm their aching and their futile attempt at release. And then he looks to the woman...fresh from her treason. And instead of seeing the despicable disloyalty, he thinks of her aching longings. That her hopelessness last night had taken her at high risks to a secret place. She had ignored fears of being caught, or of sinning--in hopes of being known. She had thrown caution to the wind and run to the shelter of another soul, hoping to be touched deeply and lovingly. And perhaps she had felt that touch in the night, in his arms. But how quickly hope faded into disaster...until she was touched by Jesus.

Could her aching have been a desire to feel OK? A need to feel that all of her human failures were forgiven? Could she have wanted to know that someone somewhere looked at her and saw beauty, something worth the risk of possessing. Ah, look at all the lonely people.

When the crowd had left, Jesus asked, "Woman, where are your accusers? Has no one condemned you?"

She answered, "No one, Lord."

Then Jesus spoke the words that reached deep inside of her, to her soul. And they weren't just words, they were healing vibrations--human/spiritual/psychological touch. (OK, divine as well, but I'm really into kenosis for all of you theologians--Phil 2:5-11, or C. Wesley--"He emptied himself of all but love..." But I digress.) He said, I don't condemn you either. Go and stop sinning." (This story is in the Christian New Testament, book of John chapter 8 and verses 2-11--you can find the verses by those tiny numbers before each sentence or so.)

I guess that is why my faith rests in Jesus. Not in a Jesus who says, "Go and stop sinning and then I won't condemn you and I'll think you're OK." But the one who says, "I don't condemn you, I love you. I see your beauty and dignity. Stop seeking life where it isn't."

I'm aching so deeply for a few people right now. And I'm praying for the way to speak peace to their aching longing and living.

Grace and peace to you. You are loved, just as you are, more than you can imagine.