Your Pawn to God’s Justice

Our Scene opens at a border crossing. An animated conversation between two men has become heated. A woman and child behind him clutch all they own. Tired. Dirty.

His face creased with worry; the husband pleads with the guard.

“Sir, we have traveled hundreds of miles to escape certain death. Please allow us refuge in your country. Every boy is being slaughtered. Blood is running in the streets of our town.”

Their last hope dies as the guard speaks. “Go home and return to your own country. Get your paperwork in order. You and your people have caused our country enough anguish. All our firstborns lay dead, our crops decimated. Our rivers turned to blood.

Now you want refuge from certain death. No. Go. Home.”

(Spoiler alert: this isn’t really what happened)

There is currently a meme going around on the number one news platform for most people, Facebook. It depicts a politician sprinkling flags from Honduras, Guatemala, Nicaragua, and Mexico over the state of Massachusetts.

Maybe it is more comfortable to picture flags. It allows us to build our walls with objects. Flags are inanimate. They are not living, breathing mothers, daughters, fathers, or sons. A flag only bears the image of the country they represent.

Each one of those flags represents Imago Dei, an image bearer of God. Created by God. Instead of flags, maybe the image we should see is the one from our opening scene.

Joseph, Mary, and Jesus. Fleeing certain death. Not certain death for Mary and Joseph. They didn’t flee their own home to save themselves. They left what they knew to seek refuge in the very same country God saved his people from hundreds of years before. Joseph and Mary took Jesus and fled to the very place that had enslaved the Israelites.

They fled not only Herod the Great, killing all the boys under the age of two. They also fled the religious leaders, the scribes, the Pharisees, the Sadducees, and even the temple priests who stood by silently watching the horror.

The Temple in Jerusalem was more political than religious, more interested in representing Rome and the interests of Caesar than taking care of the people they were called to serve.

Instead of those flags, imagine Joseph, Mary, and a little boy, Immanuel; Jesus left miles outside a city with nothing. Still clinging to hope.

Amnesty International defines a refugee as “a person who has fled their own country because they are at risk of serious human rights violations and persecution there. The risks to their safety and life were so great that they felt they had no choice but to leave and seek safety outside their country because their own government cannot or will not protect them from those dangers. Refugees have a right to international protection.”

These refugees walked nearly 3,000 miles from their homes in Venezuela. To seek refuge in a country where many claim the Bible as its foundation.

They walk for days, weeks, and months. Leaving a lifetime of memories. A land devastated by political, economic, and health crises. Most leave only with the clothes they can fit in a backpack or rolled in a blanket. Little food and what money they may have, is not worth the paper it’s printed on. The only hope they see is before them.

Hope is offered to them in a brochure. Come, we will feed you, clothe you, we will free you from your prison of despair. Come. Follow me.

“And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8)

These refugees bear the same image I do. The same image you do. All these mothers, fathers, grandfathers, grandmothers, sons, daughters, and babies are nothing more than pawns in some perverted political game.

Have we become so entangled with Caesar we only see flags?

Only the light of love will drive out darkness. Walls of division will never reflect the light of God’s loving-kindness. His steadfast love. As Image Bearers, we are called to reflect God’s love.

You see, I didn’t see that meme on just anyone’s news feed. It was on the feed of someone who comes to church every week.

“For I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’  Then they also will answer, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to you?’ Then he will answer them, saying, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’”  (Matthew 25: 42-45)

I Surrender

Here I am, Lord. Crying at your feet again. Once again, surrendering my plans, my organized, color-coded fall calendar. In my rush to return to life as it was, I raced ahead of you.

As I lay on the floor crying over my plans, God began showing me His PLAN for a new thing. With tears flowing, my calendar on the fire of God’s will for me, I lay listening to “Oceans” and heard God calling me again to trust in His sovereign plan for me.

God always meets us at our breaking point, ready to repair broken hearts, broken lives, all the broken things. Sometimes we feel our suffering is so trivial compared to others. When people are losing everything they own, their very lives, we can feel our struggle is unimportant. But God cares for us. So wherever you may find yourself today, I pray you will hear God calling you.

“You call me out upon the waters

The great unknown

Where feet may fail”*

Our feet are weary, Lord, help us.

“And there I find You in the mystery

In oceans deep

My faith will stand

And I will call upon Your name

And keep my eyes above the waves

When oceans rise

My soul will rest in Your embrace

For I am Yours

You are mine”*

Isaiah 43-2 says, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.” Lord, thank you that in you alone, our faith rests. In you alone can we stand.

“Your grace abounds in deepest waters

Your sovereign hand

Will be my guide

Where feet may fail, and fear surrounds me

You’ve never failed

And You won’t start now”*

Lord, we surrender our fear to you. When our feet fail, guide us with your hand.

“Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever You would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my Savior”*

We surrender our plans to you. Help us go beyond where we could ever go without your Spirit guiding us. 

Every day we have a choice. Yet, so often, we rush ahead with our day before laying our plans on the altar of your Word. 

Lord, remind us to be still in Your Presence. To keep our eyes on you and not allow the fear of the unknown to consume our thoughts. 

Lord, during this season of so much unknown and so much change, guide us with your sovereign hand. 

I trust your plan, Lord. 

*Lyrics from “Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)” Hillsong Worship.

Breaking Point

Broken, shattered, pieces scattered, cut adrift.

I thought August would look different this year.

God, I thought we were going to go back to normal.

Did I miss the memo? Does normal even exist?

When we decided to continue with virtual school this year, my emotions were all over the place. I knew returning to brick and mortar wouldn’t be best for us. Moving ahead felt impossible.

On the floor crying. Again. I was questioning God’s plan. Why? Why do I have to do this again? It didn’t go well last time around. Why would it be better this time?

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Lamentations 3:22-23.

His mercies are new every morning.

“I am repairing what was broken.”

Everything feels broken, God. I don’t know if there are enough pieces left to patch us up again.

“Behold, I am doing a new thing. Do you not perceive it?”

As I began wondering about repairing broken things, God reminded me of an ancient Japanese art form, kintsugi (golden repair). It is the art of repairing a broken vessel using gold lacquer to fill the cracks. Instead of hiding the imperfections, kintsugi highlights the repair.

“An art form born from ‘mottainai’ — the feeling of regret when something is wasted — and ‘mushin,’ the need to accept change: the cracks are seamed with lacquer resin and powdered gold, silver, or platinum, and often reference natural forms like waterfalls, rivers, or landscapes. This method transforms the artifact into something new, making it more rare, beautiful, and storied than the original.” Andrea Mantovani

So often, I want God to restore what has been broken or lost. Restoration is about returning a person or a thing to its former condition. God, in His infinite mercy, doesn’t just want restoration. He wants to transform what has been broken. He wants to create something new.

Sometimes during the repair process, pieces are missing or lost. Kintsugi art often consists of using a piece that wasn’t part of the original. As a result, the artist creates something unique and more valuable than the original.

I believed I wanted to return to normal, or even a new normal would be okay. But, instead, God is transforming us into something new.

As I am sitting in the middle of this repair process, I will allow God to fill in all the cracks with his special glue and gold dust blend. Things may get a little hot during the journey, but “The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, therefore I will hope in him.'” (Lamentations 3:24)

Hope Has Come

“But Mary was treasuring up all these things in her heart and meditating on them.” (Luke 2:9)

We made it! The day that God planned has arrived. Today, we celebrate the birth of a King. An unlikely King. An uncommon place. Two ordinary people. A motley crew of witnesses. A whole host of angelic messengers. You and me.

Sitting here today, looking at my imperfect tree. In the still, dark hour before the sunrise. Before the rush of the day. I sit with Jesus. He sits with me. I lean in to hear his whisper.

All that.

The announcement.

John. Zachariah, Elizabeth.

Mary. Joseph.

The shepherds. The Magi.

The gifts. The stable.

God’s Love.

 All that. Was for you.

Will you let me be your Everyday Jesus?

 I came to shine my light. In a dark world.

I came just for you.

Today is just the beginning of our journey.

Like Mary, treasure these things in your heart.

Meditate on what has been said. There is still much to learn.

Will you meet me here tomorrow?

Pull Up A Chair

“For my grandfather’s entire family deserves death from my lord the king, but you set your servant among those who eat at your table.” (2 Samuel 19:28)

As the golden, orange leaves drift to the ground our eye is drawn to a mile-long table, groaning under the weight of an abundance of food. People are coming from every corner of the earth. Every age, every color, every race. They each carry their own chair, not one the same. Everyone finds a seat at the table.

 Throughout the Old Testament we see God’s story unfolding primarily through his chosen people, the Jews. As we watch their story unfold, we get a front row seat to an epic tale. Not a fairy tale, or a sci-fi movie. Not a comedy, or a reality tv show. No, we get to see a story of great victories and great loss. Amazing stories of conquering heroes. Betrayal. Murder. Love. Division. Unity. Jealousy. Anger. Promise. Hope. Love.

In the book of Ecclesiastes, we learn there is nothing new under the sun. The Bible is an epic story of God’s people. Unlike us, God gives a clear, honest, gut-wrenching story of His people. You and Me. A story of a lot of messed up people. The beauty of the story? God doesn’t want us to remain broken and messed up.

He sent a little baby to restore humanity. Jesus’ birth is what unites a divided people. His birth and ultimately his death on the cross, erased the line that divided Jew from Gentile. We can’t see the birth of Jesus without seeing the shadow cast by the cross.

As Jesus had his last meal on the night he was arrested, he reclined at the table with his followers. Before dinner he washed the feet of his disciples. Even Judas, who would betray him. Still he washed his feet. He invited Judas, his betrayer, to sit at the table with him.

He still invites us to sit at his table. No matter our past. No matter our betrayal. Do you feel disqualified to have a place at the table? Jesus family tree wasn’t much to write home about. King David, an adulterer and murderer. Rahab, a prostitute. There is a long list of people that failed.

Yet Jesus invites us to take off our past. To let go of our shame, or hurt, the shattered pieces of our lives. He wants to wash our feet. He wants to recline at the table with us and listen to our stories. There is always room for one more at the table.

The Little Things

33 His father and mother[b] were amazed at what was being said about him. 34 Then Simeon blessed them and told his mother Mary: “Indeed, this child is destined to cause the fall and rise of many in Israel and to be a sign that will be opposed[c]— 35 and a sword will pierce your own soul—that the thoughts[d] of many hearts may be revealed.”

36 There was also a prophetess, Anna, a daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was well along in years, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage,[e] 37 and was a widow for eighty-four years.[f] She did not leave the temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayers. 38 At that very moment,[g] she came up and began to thank God and to speak about him to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.[h]

39 When they had completed everything according to the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. 40 The boy grew up and became strong, filled with wisdom, and God’s grace was on him. (Luke 2:33-39CSB)

As I read this passage in Luke, God reminds me that every voice, every gift, every life is important to His plan. Tucked in this passage of Joseph and Mary’s visit to the temple to dedicate Jesus, we get a picture of two people, Simeon (Luke 2:25-32) and Anna. Two people, a man and a woman, bear witness to who this baby is and who He will become. It was a fulfillment of the law which required two witnesses for any legal challenge.

I know I often skim past all these little “distractions” as I read scripture. But I am learning to slow down and see why God includes these details about Anna. Simeon’s story was more about what he had to say about Jesus. Anna’s story is more about who she was than what she said. Who she was is important.

In the first two sentences we have a clear picture of Anna. She was the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. Phanuel means, “Face of God,” and Asher means, blessed. She was a widow who had been serving God in the temple by praying and fasting for 84 years. That is a whole story all by itself! She had been faithfully serving God, quietly praying for the people of Israel. Probably praying for those that passed the “old lady” by every day.

She looks at the face of God in this baby. In the busyness of the people rushing in and out of the temple, she and Simeon see the redemption of God’s people. This child who will reveal the hearts of people.

Our light in the darkness. Our redeemer.

Reservations? Sorry, No Room

“And laid him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.” (Luke 2:7)

Hesitantly, I slink into the room. Every face turns to me. Judgement immediately flickering across their faces. Once again, I have been found lacking. My bright, cotton dress doesn’t fit with their subdued silk designer fashion. My hair doesn’t fall into nice shiny, beachy curls. Even after 40 years of practice my make-up will never look like theirs. I don’t fit. I will never measure up to that unspoken code. I feel left out. Alone in the crowd. Have you ever felt like you were peering through a window? Never invited to be part of the group?

In my father’s house there’s a place for me. I am invited. He loves me just as I am. In my hot-pink, cotton dress, straight hair and slap-dash, make-up job. He loves me.

Mary and Joseph were unable to find room anywhere in Bethlehem. Had word spread from Nazareth about their “situation”? Had they been left out? We don’t know. We only know “there was no room for them.” God made room for Jesus in the stable.

While we try to fit into a world that tells us bigger is better, more will fill the empty places. The penthouse suite is what we need. God challenges us to look at the world through the lens of His love. When I am broken, He can mend me. When I am lost, He will find me. When the road ahead is dark; He shines His light. When there is no room; He makes room.

God invites us to look at the stable through the eyes of love.  In that little stable, God opened wide the door for everyone to enter.  He set the stage for our redemption., our restoration.

Making room for more. How like God to show His promise and plan through a lack of room for Mary and Joseph. Everything was full. God, through His mercy made room for more. He made room for all people to enter into His promise.  We don’t have to worry about a reservation, we are already invited. All we have to do is say yes.

Your Best Gift

” Entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother, and falling to their knees, they worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.” (Matthew 2:11)

These men, these magicians, magi, wise men upon looking at Jesus fell to their knees and worshipped him. These men who worshipped the stars, charted their lives according to the stars movement, travelled to worship a king because of a star. 

Worship is to regard with great or extravagant respect, honor, or devotion.

When faced with Jesus the wise men made a choice to leave their idol worship and fall to their knees and worship Him. When faced with Jesus we all have a choice.

Worship isn’t about whether I raise my hands during a song at church. It isn’t whether I dance like King David did, “David was dancing will all his might before the Lord.” (2 Samuel 6:14)

True worship is about surrender. It’s about surrendering who I am, who I think I should be. It is about allowing my life to be surrendered to God. It is recognizing those idols that try to pull me away from regarding God with extravagant respect, honor and devotion.

It is recognizing that He alone is worthy of my worship. He is worthy because He has proved Himself to be worthy. When I lay on all the broken pieces of my life. When the darkness tried to slither its way into my mind. When the winds howled and the waters rose to flood my soul, Gods love, His light reached into the darkest recesses of my heart and overcame the darkness. I worship Him because He carried me when I couldn’t walk. He mended me when I was shattered.

“Falling to their knees, they worshipped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts; gold, frankincense, and myrrh.” The best gift I can offer Is a heart surrendered in worship to Him. For He is worthy.

What’s In Your Frame?

“And one called to another: Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Armies; his glory fills the whole earth.” (Isaiah 6:3)

What? It’s not real! It’s just Styrofoam. Hollow. Empty. It is just a façade. Fake. Made to look real.

I discovered one year after a hurricane that those beautiful stone covered columns that anchor our fences around the neighborhood are nothing more than a façade. The pyramid stone that caps each column is nothing more than Styrofoam masquerading as stucco.

I often feel like that. Some days I feel like my makeup is the glue that is holding me together. It’s the spray over my façade I try to present to people. Especially on those days I’m feeling hollow, empty, fake.

Then God reminds me of that stable.  The last place available for Mary and Joseph. Bethlehem was full. Every room booked. Every cranny filled. But God chose a stable. Not the Ritz or a king’s palace. Some say it may have been no more than a cave.

He reminds me that it isn’t how you dress something up. How pretty it looks on the outside. It is the heart. No matter how much you dress up the outside, the top is going to come off one day, and expose you.

He reminds me that the baby that was born is the only thing that can fill every empty place within me. He reminds me who I am and how I look are not important. It is whose I am and who holds my heart. Our culture tells us what we see in the frame, not the mess, is what defines us. God wants us to see where we come from isn’t what defines us, or what frames our lives. He invites us to step out of the masquerade, step out of our “perfect” frame and meet Him in the stable. Meet the baby that is our Savior.

Ready. Steady. Go!

When he (King Herod) had called together all the people’s chief priests and teachers of the law, he asked them where the Messiah was to be born. ‘In Bethlehem in Judea,’ they replied… (Matthew 2)

I hate to admit this but sometimes, probably more than sometimes, I feel threatened when I think I might lose my place. I liked sitting on the front row at school. It gave an appearance of being the good student. In some churches the front row is a place of honor. A status symbol.

The prophets of God had been silent for 400 years when the cry of a baby broke through the dark-silence. During those 400 years the chief priests had achieved positions of great authority and honor.  They were the ones to interpret the law. They had a vested interest in their position. They kept up the appearance of seeking God. Then these foreigners entered their land and asked where the baby who would be king was to be born. When confronted with the birth of the Messiah they made a choice. They chose to keep their position.

These men had been writing about the coming Messiah. They had studied scripture. They had memorized scripture. It was written and attached to their heads. The Messiah in theory wasn’t the same as living, breathing promise.  Their hearts had become like stone and they were unable to make the six-mile journey to Bethlehem and worship the long-awaited King. They were unable to make the 18-inch journey from their head to their heart.

It is so easy to become complacent. Surrounded by messages we see every day that tell us to be more, buy more, see more, consume more, more is better. Many times, in the midst of more we miss the simplicity of God’s message.  I can become so caught up in the reading. The writing. The studying. I miss the real message. God gives me a choice. Stay in Jerusalem and keep your position. Or, come travel with me to Bethlehem. Follow the Star. Leave your heart of stone. Leave who you think you should be. See who you can be when you allow your heart to be changed.