The Clochan

I love gob

My church, an AMIA Anglican church, does not have a building of our own, but shares space with a Seventh Day Adventist church.  (Being SDA, they meet on Saturday, so we use their facility on Sundays.)

So I was in church this week, and written on the binding of an SDA hymnal, I noticed lettering.  It said "I Love gob".

At first I laughed at it.  I thought that loving "God" would probably be better, and rolled my eyes.  If you are going to love God, capitalize... or at least spell right.  It seemed to fit with my hesitations about SDA churches in general.

I then pictured the small child decorating the hymnal as I noticed that the black letters were embellished sloppily with a light red pen.  As I sat in the pew and continued to look at it.

I began to wish that I could love "gob" with that sort of freedom. 

Sometimes I am more worried about loving right than just loving. I may owe "gob" an apology.

Christ in Others

We are told that when we feed the poor, we are feeding Christ.  When we clothe the naked, we are clothing Christ.  I have been trying to figure out what that means in a practical way.

Giving to the homeless shelter just doesn't cut it.  There is something more practical here.  Something that applies in this moment.

I am starting with this discipline:  The discipline of seeing Christ in others.

My neighbors needed to have their dogs taken care of for a week....  Christ needed His dogs taken care of for a week.  

Here is where it really gets backwards on me.  If you really could take care of Jesus's dogs for a week, wouldn't you be doing more than caring for the dogs?  Wouldn't you be excited to learn... to actually be with one of the most important figures in all of history?  What could you learn about love, tolerance, creativity, glory? 

So I ask God for eyes and I see Christ in my neighbors.  I learn about Christ's kindness by following in His steps in His concern for animals.  I learn about how he cares for the earth as I feed the dogs my neighbor's organic dogfood.  I learn about his love for our creativity as I see the artwork that they produce.  I remember their loyalty and friendship and kindness and wonder how I can learn to love better.  Christ teaches me through His presence in them.

And no... my neighbors are not Christians.  And no... I don't feel the need to evangelize.  I am learning from them, not the other way around.  It is my honor to care for their dogs.  It is my honor to rub shoulders with Christ in them.

Now on to others... the drive-in order taker... my co-workers... my wife... I have a lot to see.

Kindness

My wife read me a poem last night.  It reminded me of the long and painful journey that has put a gentleness in my spirit.  Learning true kindness has had a cost.

Kindness
 
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.
 
Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.
 
Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
 
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you every where
like a shadow or a friend.
 
-Naomi Shihab Nye

Beauty, Pain, and Mystery

"Two things pierce the human heart: beauty and affliction."
-Simone Weil

"The poet only asks to get his head into the heavens. It is the logician who seeks to get the heavens into his head. And it is his head that splits."
-G.K. Chesterton

"A great deal can be understood if we allow room for mystery."
-Bryan T. Owens

When I was younger, I would approach life with first with the mind.  With thought...  logic... explanations... rational truth...  While I still have that in me, over these past years, I have learned that other ways of discovering what is true.

An eye for beauty, the transformation of affliction, and embracing mystery.

So as I start this blog, I want to remember these things.  I hope my words give windows into transforming beauty and suffering.  I hope to move in closer to a God that will never be completely understood.  I hope to dive deeper, see more, and enjoy what will always be a great mystery.