The Garden

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful."

                                                                                                              -John 15:1-2

This is a little excerpt from a wedding I did over the weekend for my good friends Ryan and Maggie.

In John 15 we are invited into this beautiful but difficult imagery of a Garden. The scripture says that God is the Gardener and we are like a vine that is growing in the Garden. The vine, us, has many branches. Some of those branches, some parts of us are creating life for us, but some parts of us are producing death. Those parts are our old self or our false self. While we live in this fallen world there are parts of us that need to be pruned. Parts that need to die so they don’t destroy us all together. 

The world started with a wedding and it ends with a wedding. And the world started in a Garden and it ends in a Garden. God made man and woman and he placed them in a Garden. I think it is very safe to say, that God was telling us something. Marriage is a Garden. It has to watered and tended and paid attention to.

At times you will love this marriage. This Garden that God is giving you to live in. You will love it because it will cause you more life than you ever thought possible. It will make you feel such joy and such fullness. And you will feel this life giving abundance because that’s what happens in a garden. Life and fruit are born there.

At times you will also hate this marriage. This Garden that God is giving you to live in. You will hate it because it will cause you more pain and more suffering than you ever thought possible. It will make you feel frustration and emptiness. You will feel this painful groaning because that’s what happens in a Garden. Weeds are picked and dying branches are pruned. God will use this marriage to prune you both. He will use it to make you more holy. So, remember in those moments when you’ve slammed a door and you sit in separate rooms wondering all sorts of terrible things… In those moments remember that you’re being pruned. Although it is very painful pruning causes us to come to life. And Gardening is all about creating space for things to come alive. 

The Gardener

The Gardener is at work
pruning and cutting

Some need tender care
Some need to be removed

Some lush green.
Flowering. Blooming.

Some steady yellow.
Not dead. Not alive.

Some dull brown.
Withering. Wilting.

I have many branches within me.

How do you know what needs to live
and what needs to die?

The Gardener knows.
I am not the Gardener.

A weed is a plant living where it does not belong.

Separation

Holy Saturday
Silent Saturday
A terrible silence
The silence of separation.

A daughter
sprawled across a motel bed
thinking of the clean sheets
in her parents home.
Would they have me back?

A man
perched behind his desk
considering the distance from the 18 floor
to the pavement.
Could she take me back?

A mom
standing outside his bedroom door
remembering when her affection was
all he knew.
Will he want to come back?

A boy
lying in a ditch, deployment near end
daydreaming of the cheers
as he walks down the airplane steps.
Do they need me back?

Holy Saturday
Silent Saturday
endured that separation would not be
my stories name.

Separation He lived that our
separation could die.

Jesus

Pilate gave the crowd what it wanted     -Mark 15:15

Naked

When  I was younger I had a recurring dream. I would be sitting in class and I would suddenly be overcome with fear. I would break out in a cold sweat and my eyes would fill with tears. I  would realize that I was naked. I had gone to school naked on accident. It was the absolute worst feeling ever. No embarrassment could top it. That recurring dream lasted almost until high school and best I can remember I think it was my first experience with shame. It wasn't real shame. I never actually went to school naked but the feeling was real. The way shame felt was real. When God made Adam and Eve and put them in the garden, it says they were "naked and unashamed". I suppose that's the way naked was meant to feel - shameless. It doesn't though. Not anymore. When your clothes are off you are exposed. The good. The bad. And the ugly. I have a singer/song writer friend. He says he can't stand singing in front of people without his guitar. He says the guitar gives him confidence when he's good and hides him when he's not. I don't sing or play the guitar in front of people, but I do hold onto things to feel confident. I do hide behind things. I do hold things out in front to keep from possibly feeling ashamed. To keep from really being known. Because people might see something they don't like. People might see the things you don't like about you. Or the things I don't like about me. Being seen is scary. It's vulnerable. It's naked.


It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus.  Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.  John 13: 1-5


As if it wasn't enough that he took of his Godly outer clothing to come and live among us. As if it wasn't enough that perfection himself stepped out of his Holy robe and put on skin. He goes even further. He now takes off his human clothing. Abandons his rights. His entitlements. Leaves his dignity and steps into humility. The God who breathed life into our noses. The Dreamer who dreamed us. The Beginning. Jesus. Undressing. He becomes the least in the room. The smallest. Under his robe, he would have been wearing a tunic. In this modest culture, a tunic was as good as naked. It was the lowest dressing someone could wear. It's what servants wore when they washed their master's feet. It was as if he was saying, I want you to really see me. And I want you to see where I am. Undressed. On the floor. Kneeling in mud and spilled water. If we want to see God we are going to have to start looking underneath things. Because he's lower than we'd imagine. And he's smaller than we'd like him to be. And he's quieter than we'd think. God is in the mess. He's at the bottom of things. Maybe that's why he says we're blessed when we are at the end of our rope. Blessed when we are at rock bottom. At our lowest. We are blessed there, because he's there. Waiting on us to remove the things we've covered up with. Waiting on us to loosen our belts and drop our egos. And our entitlements. And our money. And our power. And our fame. Sometimes we do this on our own. Most of the time life knocks our clothes off for us. The hard part is seeing that as a gift. Seeing that we didn't really need our outer garments the way we thought we did. We didn't need our guitar after all. What we really wanted all along was to just be seen. To be known. To be seen by the Dreamer and to realize that beneath all our jackets we are the beloved after all. There is nothing I want more than to be really known and really loved. He is knowing more of me these days. If only I can keep from putting my clothes back on...

Ed Dobson

The link below will take you to a beautiful 10 minute video. It spoke to places deep within me. If you want to watch, don't do so while you're busy. Don't watch this on your phone. Find a computer and shut your door. It's way to good to be cheapened by hurry.   Enjoy


http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/2012/02/18/tending-the-garden-one-person-at-a-time/


"My garden today is meeting with individual people and helping them in their journey" -Ed Dobson

The old man

I see the old man

Do you see him?

He needs no praise
no applause
no fame.

He is so present
so slow
so simple.

He tills his ground
walks his path.

He is last.
Small.
Forgotten.

He scares me
because he doesn't need me.

Small

I want to be big.
No, I want to be small.
Big again.
Small.

I want to become bigger
to magnify
to grow. No

I want to become smaller
to decrease
to descend.

Yes. Smaller is what I desire.

Smaller is where I'm going
being taken.

Broken
into smaller pieces.

Smaller pieces to be shared
To be given.

New

I got an iPhone. It has been quite an experience getting used to it. For starters, it doesn’t flip open. None the less, this purchase has caused me to enter the world of apps. I thought it was as easy as searching for what you need and clicking install. If it were only that simple. Apps have a store. Like groceries or shoes. The store has them divided by category. For every app category there are hundreds of options. If you’ve made it this far and you’ve actually found an app, then you have to make a decision. Purchase or not? Worth it or not? You make this decision based on the “reviews”. The review is the opinion of the last person who tried it out. Fewer people leave good reviews. For some reason we are more likely to take the time to comment on something when it has disappointed us. The review let’s you know whether or not the app is worth the cost. An app is only as good as it’s last review. The last review is the one everyone sees. As I was making my way through this insanity that is technology I found myself conflicted internally. I think I was actually feeling sorry for the app. The “bad review” is like the scarlet letter of the app store. OR maybe I was just moved to something deeper. Life is full of reviews. It’s hard to not feel  like you’re only as good as your last review. Your last game. You’re last weight on the scale. You’re last pant size. Your last relationship. Your last try. Your last loss. Your last look in the mirror. Your last broken promise. Your last attempt. Your last lie. Your last score. Your last disappointment. Your last “not enough”. Your last…

While Jesus was in one of the towns, a man came along who was covered with leprosy. When he saw Jesus, he fell with his face to the ground and begged him, “Lord, if you are willing, you can make me clean.” Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. “I am willing,” he said. “Be clean!” And immediately the leprosy left him.   Luke 5:12-13

He’s not just a leper. He’s a person. Who was a kid once. Who had dreams. And one day all of those dreams changed. And he ended up alone and on the outside. He actually wasn’t supposed to be in town. He's supposed to live outside with the other outsiders. The rule was, if you must come to town, you had to ring a bell and call out “UNCLEAN, UNCLEAN”. This would give everyone the needed time to get out of your way. So your disease didn’t rub off on them. This time was different. As he rang his bell and called out his terrible name, “UNCLEAN”. Someone didn’t run. Jesus. I wonder if he knew what Jesus looked like or if he just recognized Jesus because He was the only person who didn’t get out the way. He sees him. Then the perfect and the imperfect come face to face. Then face to feet. And the perfect reaches out and touches the imperfect. “Be clean!”. Katharizo in greek. It means new. Jesus say’s, “Be New!”  I can’t help but wonder how different this trip to town was than his last… than his last review. Than the last time he broke the rules looking for love. It’s almost as if Jesus was telling him he’s worth it… regardless of his last review. Maybe that’s how we all become new. By finding out we’re worth it by coming in contact with the perfect.

It’s hard to not feel like you’re only as good as your last review.

False and full

I have found no better words than these to describe what lent has been doing in me thus far...

Jesus, lover of my soul

Jesus, lover of my soul, let me to Thy bosom fly,

While the nearer waters roll, while the tempest still is high.

Hide me, O my Savior, hide, till the storm of life is past;

Safe into the haven guide; O receive my soul at last.

Other refuge have I none, hangs my helpless soul on Thee;

Leave, ah! leave me not alone, still support and comfort me.

All my trust on Thee is stayed, all my help from Thee I bring;

Cover my defenseless head with the shadow of Thy wing.

Wilt Thou not regard my call? Wilt Thou not accept my prayer?

Lo! I sink, I faint, I fall—Lo! on Thee I cast my care;

Reach me out Thy gracious hand! While I of Thy strength receive,

Hoping against hope I stand, dying, and behold, I live.

Thou, O Christ, art all I want, more than all in Thee I find;

Raise the fallen, cheer the faint, heal the sick, and lead the blind.

Just and holy is Thy Name, I am all unrighteousness;

False and full of sin I am; Thou art full of truth and grace.

Plenteous grace with Thee is found, grace to cover all my sin;

Let the healing streams abound; make and keep me pure within.

Thou of life the fountain art, freely let me take of Thee;

Spring Thou up within my heart; rise to all eternity.

false and full of sin am I... let the healing streams abound

Breaking

As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus acted as if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening: the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him…      Luke 24:30-31

I was chopping firewood the other day and had several large pieces I had to split. There’s a trick to chopping the big ones that just bounce the axe back at you. Chop it till it starts to crack. Then, use the axe as a wedge.  Take the blunt end of a sledge and split the wood into smaller pieces. The wood makes a terrible sound. It’s the sound of the wood splintering. It’s the sound of the wood pulling apart and breaking.

That sound seems be all around me these days. It’s within me as well. It’s the painful sound of our world pulling apart and breaking. Splintering. I hear it in my own pain and in the pain of friends. We live in the breaking. You could trace that sound all the way back to a garden when a husband and wife experienced the first split. The wedge was driven between them and between them and God. It was the wedge of the fall. The division of the first rebellion. The first exposed nudity. The first shame. The first secret. The first pain. The first lie. The first insecurity. The first loss of innocence. The first death. The very first splintering…  and it is splintering still. But there was and is Jesus. And he stepped down from heaven to live in the breaking. And it crushed him until it killed him. And he came back. And he took a piece of bread and he broke it and he handed it over to them. He gave it, the same way he gave himself. And his friends said, “Oh, there you are. You’re in the breaking.” 

As I listen to the voice of the one who calls me his own, I am reminded that my brokenness does not remain under hell. It rests under heaven and He is in it. Jesus is in the breaking. And I am beginning to recognize him in my own brokenness and in the broken parts of my neighbors and my neighborhood. Because after all, only someone who’s been here before, in the breaking, would know the way back to find the rest of us.

Communion

And even with your body and your blood on my lips I can hardly think of anything other than myself...

Lord have mercy

Being Found

“The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.     Selah”   -Psalm 46:7

Selah. If you’ve spent any time in the Psalms you’ve probably seen that word before. It almost looks like an accident, just hanging out over there on the right side of the page. Ironically enough, that’s actually one of the translations of the word. To hang. It refers to the way things were weighed.  You would hang meat or produce on a scale of sorts to determine its value. The second translation is more about music. Selah was used to indicate that there is to be a musical interlude at that point in the song. The Psalms were actually sung accompanied by musical instruments. This would give direction to the accompanying musicians to break in at the place marked with Selah, while the singers' voices were hushed. It was an instruction for those singing the prayers to “stop and listen”. Whichever translation you end up hanging your coat on I think they complement one another nicely. As if to say,“Stop and listen. Let what you’ve just heard hang inside of you long enough to notice it’s value”. Let it settle.  This word occurs seventy-one times in thirty-nine of the Psalms. That makes me think it must be fairly important.

I was lost in the woods once. In college I had come up with a brilliant idea to take a girl I liked on a day hiking trip. All had gone well, until I realized I had timed the whole thing wrong. We were about 1 hour from the trail head at sunset and I had not packed any flashlights or headlamps. We were in trouble. The date was obviously ruined. Intelligence ranked number 1 on her future spouse priority chart and she had just come to realize that I didn’t have one ounce of it. Unfortunate for her, however, at this point I was all she had. We walked until daylight gave out. It was completely dark. We tried crawling on our knees using our hands to feel for the trail.  I did have matches, so we tried lighting part of a t-shirt on fire to make a torch. It wouldn’t stay lit.  We were freaking out. I stopped to lay on my back and gather my thoughts. That’s when I saw it. The moon.  It was lit up in a way that exposed the trail from above. The trail wasn’t just cleared out on the ground. It was cleared out in the sky by the missing tree tops. The moon led us back to our car. We had to look up rather than looking down. I felt clever for a minute, but the reality was I didn’t find the moon. It found me. The moon had been there lighting that path day after day before I ever came along. I merely stopped long enough to notice it.

I am not very good at finding God. I never have been. And I spent so much time early in life believing that until I “got good” at finding God all hope was lost for me. I’m starting to see that being bad at finding God is a pretty big part of being human. And that’s ok, because he is really good at finding me. He has been finding me all along. The most I can do is be found by God. It does, however, require stopping. It’s much harder to be found when you’re on the run. Prayer is being found by God. Prayer is recognizing him. It is stopping and listening for the voice of the one who has been finding you all along.  It is important to create a time and a spot for that listening to happen. Not because God needs me to pray, but because I need to hear the voice of the one who reminds me that I’m worth finding. It helps me spend less time trying to be found by everyone else.

Selah is a word that reminds us to stop and let the music break in. The real music.                        

Selah.

 “How do you know me? Nathanael asked. Jesus answered, “I saw you while you were still under the fig tree before Philip called you.”  - John 1:48

Love and Death

"We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus..."   2 Corinthians 4:10

Love and Death are connected.
True love is a commitment to die.
It was for Jesus.

To be loved by Jesus is to kneel on the wet ground.
Hands open.
Knees soaked in the blood.
Head resting on His cold pierced feet.

To be loved by Jesus is to kneel on the dry ground.
Hands open.
Nostrils catching the scent of a rotting man.
Head resting on the cold stone that seals His death.

To be loved by Jesus is to kneel on the cold ground.
Hands open.
Head resting on the warmth of the angels feet
as they proclaim, "HE HAS RISEN!"

Love and death are inseparable.
To love involves "a taking hold" and at the same time "a letting go". So does death.
I imagine we can only love to the depths by which we have already died.
To be loved by Jesus is to hear his invitation to follow him into his death... and to say "yes".



"A person who wants to lead a spiritual life cannot do so without the prospect of suffering and death"

-Henri Nouwen

Friend

Tombstone, Rohr, Sparks and the direction of the 72 collectively got me thinking about friendship.  Everyone wants a friend. Friendship is one of those things that we desire without anyone telling us we're supposed to. It resonates deep within me when Holliday is breathing his last and Wyatt simply says, "thanks for always being there Doc". Jesus sent them together, in two's. And best we know, He let them pick. It would make sense, as they stood on those door steps or street corners or park benches, to have a picture of relationship as they spoke of that very thing.  Maybe friendship was the Gospel in view. The Gospel without words. I do know this... I need my friend. I am at my worst when I have no one to hold me and no one to check me. I'm no good without a punch and a hug. A lone wolf is just that... a lonely wolf. An isolated evil.


-This was an older post from Tumblr. I decided i'd take a shot at the blogging thing. I have no promises. Just trying something. We will see...