joy – FROM THE SHOE

“Listen to A Picture”

I love photography. I love it when I get an image just right. A great photo or a painting or even a film can evoke beauty, inspiration or life changing actions. Even sculptures can tell a story. My favorite sculpture (which I’ve written about here) is Michelangelo’s Moses. In Bible College, the professor explained that the strength of the figure and the intensity of Moses’ gaze were because he was looking into the Promised Land into which he was not allowed to go. Now that’s a powerful image.

I can think of two images in particular that had great power; one, a horrifying photo of a mother weeping over the bodies of five of her children after they perished in a Turkish earthquake back in the ’80’s. I can’t even post it because it is so heartbreaking, even more so now that I’ve had children. This photo moved me tremendously and to understand that grief is universal, that everyday there is loss, death and calamity

The second image is the complete opposite.

It was 2017 after the Super Bowl. Of course, Tom Brady not only was in it, but the Patriots went on to win it. For Tom’s mom, it was the first game of the season she attended because she had been battling cancer all season. I looked all over the internet for the image, but it has been removed. It was in the throes of champion joy that Tom looks at his mom with his million dollar smile with great love and her face is full of so much pride, joy and love. It’s a beautiful photo and powerful image of love, resilience and joy.

Images impact emotions faster and can be more powerful than words. Henri Nouwen, when he visited a friend in France in 1983, first saw Rembrandt’s Prodigal Son. His friend asked him, “Do you like it?”

I kept staring at the poster and finally stuttered, “It’s beautiful, more than beautiful…it makes me want to cry and laugh at the same time…I can’t tell you what I feel as I look at it, but it touches me deeply.”

Henri Nouwen was so moved by the painting that he eventually went to St. Petersburg to see the original himself.

Rembrandt’s embrace remained imprinted on my soul far more profoundly than any temporary expression of emotional support. It had brought me into touch with something within me that lies far beyond the ups and downs of a busy life , something that represents the ongoing yearning of the human spirit, the yearning for a final return, an unambiguous sense of safety, a lasting home.

Nouwen went on the write his famous, The Return of the Prodigal Son, because of his encounter with a powerful image. Speaking of the Prodigal Son, the title of this blog is taken from one of my favorite sermons of Thru the Bible’s J. Vernon McGee. It too is titled Listen to A Picture. You can listen to it here.

This blog is about a recent “image” I saw. It wasn’t a photo, painting or sculpture, but it was a live illustration in a sermon. The sermon series at my church is covering the Sermon on the Mount. Last Sunday’s sermon was about the Lord’s Prayer, the “Our Father” as we called it growing up in the Catholic Church.

As the pastor gave his sermon, he did something so simple, so sublime, so unassuming…yet very, very powerful. As he was talking about “Our Father Who is in heaven”, he called his young daughter to the stage and she happily jumped into his arms. He paused and let that image sink into our minds and said, “This is what our relationship with the Father looks like.” He held her firmly with his arm and she beamed as she looked into his face. And he beamed right back into hers. The illustration lasted a few minutes, she beamed the whole time. She was in her daddy’s arms, safe, secure and loved. WOW!

Now, I know that God is my Father, intellectually, and I know I’ve been adopted into the family of God by receiving Christ into my life through faith…but as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name. I know that…but to see this powerful image of a loving father and happy child…sometimes that is not a reality in my walk with the Lord. I am fearful. I doubt. I do not trust the strong Arm that holds me. And I am certainly not always smiling. I’ve got some serious adjustments to make.

What does this image, this sermon illustration want us to hear? It wants us to hear, to know that we are beloved children of the Father, we are all kinda His favorites. That we have been legitimately adopted into His family through Christ, (that’s how great the Gospel is). And that there is nothing that can separate us from the love of God…

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Even the prodigal son was still a son in the pigpen.

I think an obstacle to returning to the strong arms of our Heavenly Father is our misunderstanding or misconception of what a father is. Some of us have had difficult relationships with our own dads, and there are residual wounds. Some of us have never been held like the pastor’s daughter was, securely and lovingly. It is foreign, even uncomfortable.

But…this is not without remedy. God really can heal those wounds and replace bitter experiences with new hope. I think as we, like the prodigal son, make our way back to the Father from whatever pigpen we’ve been in – fearfulness, anxiety, unbelief as well as a host of other sins – we will begin to bask in more of that Father’s love that was illustrated by the pastor and his daughter, and we will “rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, rejoice” as Paul wrote from a Philippian prison.

The Best Christmas Gift Ever

I’ve gotten wonderful gifts over the course of my life. The births of my ten children – my ten best days, my ten best gifts – Gifts from God. Then the grandkids…more best gifts, one coming a day before my birthday. A Christmas child in ’95 and a Christmas grandchild in ’23. (Second and third best Christmas gifts.) A bike one Christmas long ago when I was in third grade, my father and mother remembered. A vacuum…the first Christmas of my marriage (that’s what I wanted, it was awesome). A sculpture of a mama hare and her ten little bunnies…a wonderful gift from a true friend. All these and many more I am grateful for. However, the best Christmas Gift I received, the best Gift I received in my entire life was the One I received forty-five years ago less than ten days before Christmas 1979.

I was raised Catholic. I thought I was a pretty good Catholic, I loved the traditions and rituals of the Catholic Church. I learned basic theology in my CCD class at St. Eugene’s in Santa Rosa. Do unto to others as you would have them do unto you, don’t steal, don’t lie, be kind to animals…all from our little CCD study book which I still have. A good roadmap.

But there was something missing, I was still searching. Being raised Catholic did give me a good foundation for faith. I never not believed there was a God. I had no problem sitting at the cliffs near our Daly City house and imploring the Creator of the winds, the waves and the wonder of the ocean to reveal Himself to me perhaps like Bernadette or the children in Fatima or even Mary. But, alas, no. He revealed Himself in this way.

In 1978, I worked at a real estate office in Half Moon Bay during the Fall. It was wonderful, but lonely. Interest rates in ’78 were climbing toward 20%, subsequently, there were very few sales. The phone rang maybe twice a day. But my boss, Dick Stahl, an old friend of my dad’s, wanted me there and paid me to man the phones. So during the long hours between calls I read the Lord of the Rings and other books, but I mainly read the Bible, especially the Book of Revelation. I didn’t understand it at all. But I read it, I knew it was an important book. And those hours of reading whetted my appetite for more.

Fast forward through 1979, partying was getting wearisome, I had no real direction in my life and I was not making good decisions. I knew I needed to get it together, but how? Late that year, my best friend started going to this little church that met at the YMCA in Stonestown. She asked me to come along. Another true friend. I’m so glad I did.

I went to the service and enjoyed it. At the end, an invitation to faith was given. I remember clearly, Eric Sorenson had preached and was giving the invitation. He said, “If you wanted Christ in your life, raise your hand and we’ll pray for you.” I’m sure he quoted Revelation 3:20, “Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat, and he with me.” I struggled for what seemed like a long time…I had faith, I believed, I always believed. But had I invited Christ into my heart? No, I never had. Do I need to do this? Yes, I do need to do this, I want to do this. So I raised my hand up high, and asked kinda loudly, “Pray for me.” Startled Eric looked at me, but then nodded. I wasn’t supposed to say “Pray for me”. Oh well, here I am, forty-five years later, still raising my hand in different ways, “Pray for me.” The only consistent thing in my life. My best decision.

What brought me to that decision? It wasn’t the love of God, it wasn’t the superior teaching or even the rich history of the Church (albeit marred a bit)…it was that Jesus is the Truth. I was seeking for truth, the Truth. And He said in John 14:6, “I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, no one comes to the Father except through Me.” That is why I came to Christ. And His love was a Blessed By-Product which took a long time for me to understand and accept. I am still learning to this day what it means to be loved unconditionally.

My conversion took place during the tail end of the Jesus Revolution. The main verse at that time wasn’t so much John 3:16, but John 3:3, “Jesus responded and said to him (to Nicodemus), ‘Truly, truly, I say to you, unless someone is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.’” I was born again on December 16, 1979, my spiritual birthday, and for the past forty-five years, I have strove to follow Him. I have not always done so. But He continues to forgive me, stand me up, dust me off and straighten me out. He has been a faithful Friend, a patient Savior and a compassionate Father. He is the Gift that keeps giving. And on top of all of the benefits following Christ renders in this life, true joy, true peace, true love, there is also eternal life with Him. Amen.

So, dear reader, maybe you believe, but haven’t made that jump, opened that door or decided to give your life to Christ. Maybe you thought He was there all along, but aren’t sure, like me. Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 6:1, “Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.”, if you want Christ in your life…raise your hand and receive the Best Christmas Gift Ever and “…be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to obtain an inheritance which is imperishable, undefiled, and will not fade away, reserved in heaven for you…” (1 Peter 1:3, 4).

Merry, Merry Christmas!

“But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name: who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.” John 1:12,13

A Thing of Beauty…

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December 24, 2019 – Our gift from God is not only redeeming, reconciling and resurrecting; but our new relationship with Him through Jesus Christ is also a Thing of Beauty. Merry Christmas, and “Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!”

August 2015

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever,” so said Mary Poppins. Well, she borrowed that line from John Keats who wrote a poem about “A thing of beauty…” Many nights I get the privilege to drive by the ocean. Each time I am overwhelmed by its beauty and majesty. Tonight’s sunset was especially beautiful.

One of the wonderful things about beauty is its ubiquitousness, its omnipresence. It’s everywhere. You just have to look for it. The flowers blooming along the path, the smell of newly cut lawns (not much of that now though), someone’s kindness, a favorite song, sound of water rippling over rocks, I could go on and on, so could you. Even Goethe said: “A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.”

When I drove by the beach this evening, I stole some glances at the lovely sky, I wanted to fly into it, embrace it. That impulse reminded me of something C.S. Lewis wrote: “We do not want merely to see beauty…we want something else which can hardly be put into words – to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.” And from beauty, we get joy.

Through beauty, joy is always available to us. If we take the time for beauty, we will have joy, even in difficult seasons of life. But for believers we have much more. We have Him. George Mueller exclaimed about his relationship with Christ: “Oh be not satisfied until in your own inmost soul you can say, God is an infinitely lovely Being!” We may experience beauty in our relationship with Jesus Christ. I agree with George that Jesus is an infinitely lovely Being. Even in the midst of a “dark night of the soul”, we have beauty at our fingertips in the presence of our Lord.

Don Miller in Blue Like Jazz relays a story:

A guy I know named Alan went around the country asking ministry leaders questions. He went to successful churches and asked the pastors what they were doing, and why what they were doing was working. It sounded very boring, except for one visit he made to a man named Bill Bright, the president of a big ministry. Alan said he was as big as life, and listened to his questions without shifting his eyes. Alan asked a few questions-I don’t know what they were, but as a final question, he asked Dr. Bright what Jesus meant to him. Alan said Dr. Bright could not answer the question. He said Dr. Bright just started to cry. He sat there in his big chair, behind his big desk, and wept.

When I read that, I could relate to Dr. Bright; often when I think of Him, I will be overcome with a deep emotion. The beauty of His character, the beauty of His kindness, patience and love is simply overwhelming. I think Dr. Bright cried because of the beauty of the Lord. And the subsequent joy is deep and abiding.

One thing I ask of the LORD, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple. Ps. 27:4