Only Human

Only Human

But I’m only human…

How often have we uttered these words?

We as humans are often our own worst critics. We are good at talking down to ourselves. We are good at making excuses for our mistakes, and sometimes even for our intentional sin when we give into seemingly harmless temptations.

But the truth is “only human” should be the highest honor we could receive. In a sense we might say that God himself was the first one to call us “only human”, and he never meant it in a negative way.

As God breathed formed us by hand into his own image and breathed his very breath into our lungs and gave us authority over every other living thing on earth, God gave us the highest honor that one could ever bestow…

Greater than any award… greater than a military or presidential medal, more honor than anyone could possibly bestow on us…

God essentially says – “you are my son… you are my daughter… I made you. I gave you life. I loved you before you ever existed and out of that love I wove every part of you together. What I have created is good… but you, my child…. You are “supremely good”…

Evening and Morning

Evening and Morning

God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.

Genesis 1:5

There was morning and there was evening on the first day…

Wait..

As Willy Wonka says, "Strike that… Reverse It...”

There was EVENING and there was MORNING, the first day.

No, God didn’t get the days backwards. Neither did the writer of Genesis. We did.

What if, just for a minute, we imagine that the day doesn’t actually start in the morning? What if it actually starts at night? Not just at midnight either, when the calendar officially flips in the middle of the night, but actually starts the evening before we even change the calendar at all?

It’s just semantics, one might say. It doesn’t really matter. A day is a day. Twenty-four hours. The sun rise and the sun sets.

But what if it does matter. Imagine for a moment how different life could be… how different God intended life to be…

Keepers of the Spring

Keepers of the Spring

…The late Peter Marshall, former chaplain of the United States Senate, often told the story of the “Keeper of the Spring,” about a man who lived in the forest above a quaint Austrian village in the Alps.

The old gentle man had been hired many years earlier by a young town council to clear away the debris from the pools of water that fed the lovely spring flowing through their town. With faithful, silent regularity he patrolled the hills, removed the leaves and branches, and wiped away the silt from the fresh flow of water. By and by, the village became a popular attraction for vacationers. Graceful swans floated along the crystal clear spring, farmlands were naturally irrigated, and the view from restaurants was picturesque.

Years passed. One evening the town council met for its semiannual meeting. As they reviewed the budget, one man's eye caught the salary figure being paid the obscure keeper of the spring. Said the keeper of the purse, "Who is the old man? Why do we keep him on year after year? For all we know he is doing us no good. He isn't necessary any longer!" By a unanimous vote, they dispensed with the old man's services.

For several weeks nothing changed. By early autumn the trees began to shed their leaves. Small branches snapped off and fell into the pools, hindering the rushing flow of water. One afternoon someone noticed a slight yellowish-brown tint in the spring. A couple days later the water was much darker. Within another week, a slimy film covered sections of the water along the banks and a foul odor was detected. The millwheels moved slower, some finally ground to a halt. Swans left as did the tourists. Clammy fingers of disease and sickness reached deeply into the village.

Embarrassed, the council called a special meeting. Realizing their gross error in judgment, they hired back the old keeper of the spring . . . and within a few weeks, the river began to clear up.

This story paints a beautiful picture of the church’s role as keepers of the spring of living water. Sadly, the church tends to act more as a gatekeeper restricting access to those who we deem worthy of a drink. It is as if we feel the need to ration a limited water supply for the sake of our own survival, not recognizing the abundance available to us and to the world in God’s eternal spring. Like the exiles in Jeremiah’s day, we in the church today have “forsaken [God], the fountain of living water, and dug cisterns for [ourselves], cracked cisterns that can hold no water.” As it has throughout history, the life-giving water Christ offers will spring forth in the deserts beyond our walls, and even the deserts within our walls…

Thin Places

Thin Places

The methods and locations of God’s encounters with humanity throughout scripture are endless. What they all have in common is that they are acts of God’s gracious initiative. If the church is to live out her mission as a locus of God’s presence or a primary point of access to the spring of living water flowing forth from God’s throne, we must learn to become more aware of God’s presence, especially in the most unexpected places.

Consider the example of Moses. God chooses to be present in the flames of a burning bush on the mountain in the Sinai wilderness. In this way, God takes the initiative to make possible a divine encounter with humanity. Like Jacob, Moses was not seeking an audience with God. In fact, one might say he was running away in fear after having murdered the Egyptian taskmaster. Also like Jacob, Moses found himself in an “in-between space”, which tend to be some of the most “thin places” in our lives. What was required for Moses to encounter God’s presence in this divinely created thin space was paying attention…