...man, you wouldn't believe what's up there!

God of Creation, all-powerful, all wise,

Lord of the universe rich with surprise,

Maker, Sustainer and Ruler of all,

we are your children -- you hear when we call.

---Margaret Clarkson, 1987

Back when I was young and could sleep on the ground, I often spent a weekend camping with friends in the mountains of north Georgia, enjoying scenes of rugged beauty around every bend and over every hill. Being carefree (I did mention that we were young, didn’t I?), we often knew only the general area we wanted to explore, and this led to lots of wondering. I don’t mean ‘wandering’; I mean ‘wondering’, as in, “I wonder where we are now?” One particular weekend we were more aimless than usual, and had gotten onto a one-and-a-half-lane road, headed almost straight up into the sky (no easy feat for a baby-blue Monte Carlo!). At a bend in the road, we met an oncoming van, and inched over as far as we dared to let it pass. As it did, the driver waved and greeted us; we asked what was up ahead. Now, what we meant was, “Is there a camping spot up ahead?” But he had a bigger answer in mind. “Man,’ he said earnestly, “you wouldn’t believe what’s up there! There’s trees, and mountains, and grass…”

That dude up on the mountain saw the world with a sense of wonder, with a delight I am usually too jaded to enjoy. In today’s hymn, Margaret Clarkson names the God of a creation ‘rich with surprise.’ As I meditate on the concept of a universe teeming with delight and overflowing with mind-blowing creativity, I think of eclipses, lightning storms, giraffes…and grace. Just what we need, and more, from a God who is always dreaming.

You wouldn’t believe what’s up there!

...you wouldn't believe what's up there!

God of Creation, all-powerful, all wise,

Lord of the universe rich with surprise,

Maker, Sustainer, and Ruler of all,

we are your children --- You hear when we call.

---Margaret Clarkson, 1987

Back when I was young and could sleep on the ground, I often spent a weekend camping with friends in the mountains of north Georgia, enjoying scenes of rugged beauty around every bend and over every hill. Being carefree (I did mention that we were young, didn’t I?), we often knew only the general area we wanted to explore, and this led to lots of wondering. I don’t mean ‘wandering’; I mean ‘wondering’, as in, “I wonder where we are now?” One particular weekend we were more aimless than usual, and had gotten onto a one-and-a-half-lane road, headed almost straight up into the sky (no easy feat for a baby-blue Monte Carlo!). At a bend in the road, we met an oncoming van, and inched over as far as we dared to let it pass. As it did, the driver waved and greeted us; we asked what was up ahead. Now, what we meant was, “Is there a camping spot up ahead?” But he had a bigger answer in mind. “Man,” he said earnestly, “you wouldn’t believe what’s up there! There’s trees, and mountains, and grass…”

That dude up on the mountain saw the world with a sense of wonder, with a delight I am usually too jaded to enjoy. In today’s hymn, Margaret Clarkson names the God of a creation ‘rich with surprise.’ As I meditate on the concept of a universe created teeming with delight and overflowing with mind-blowing creativity, I think of eclipses, lightning storms, giraffes…and grace.

You wouldn’t believe what’s up there!

...open-eyed awe

My song rises from a thankful place;
a song accompanied on strings.
You cover the sky with clouds,
they grow heavy with rain 
you intend for the thirsty earth,
for the new grass reaching skyward 
on the hill.
This is the cycle you spun out of 
creative vitality
to provide the animals with their food, 
the young birds with what they need.
You take delight,
but not in the strength of power,
like a mighty stallion;
you take pleasure, 
but not in the feat of speed,
like a lithe runner;
your deep joy is in those 
who approach you with 
the open-eyed awe of children,
who put their hope in the 
steadfastness of 
your love.
---Psalm 147:7-11 (para. laca)

...to turn on the light

Do not, Mystery and Mercy, keep from me
what you alone can grant;
wrap me in the safety of your
strong and steady love,
let me feel the 'yes' of your faithfulness.
For the darkness of the world 
tangles around me,
enmeshed with my own 
inner shadow spaces,
until vision is a memory,
or a dream;
the shadows innumerable, 
my weakness takes my breath away.
You would delight to see me
delivered, relieved of
threats from the world,
and of my own weaving.
---Psalm 40:11-13 (para. laca)

It is so easy for me to get 'wrapped up', entangled, knotted, in the bad things happening out there. World things that happen because we are part of this world. Stuff that goes down in this broken world. Things people do that they have no business doing. Some of those things, they do to me. I know, right? And it makes me want to cry out, "God help us!" And sometimes I do. And once in a while I get a little more selfish, and I want to cry, "God help me!" 

And sometimes I do.

And God, Mystery and Mercy, says "Here I am." Which isn't always as satisfying as, "I hereby slap the baddies with tough karma and the flu!" But, then, God is God, and maybe plays the game a few moves ahead of us.

And there is this other thing. With all the darkness in the world, we sometimes can't let well enough alone. We go around creating more, and hiding it away in the nooks and crannies of our own souls. Friends, those shadowy places inside of us? They are at least as dangerous and threatening as the darkness the world tries to wrap around us. They push against us from the inside, sending out tangles of pain and hurt that interweave with the hurt and pain winding around us from the outside, and we are caught in the middle, left breathless and helpless, bound by the shadows. We can't even remember what it was to see clearly, or picture what it might be like to see again.

But the story doesn't end there. The great mystery and mercy is that, in the moment of our night-blindness, when we are bound by darkness falling on us and coming from us, there is One who is pleased to cut us loose, and turn on the light.

Praise be.

Creators of Justice and Joy

For everyone born, a place at the table, for everyone born, clean water and bread,
a shelter, a space, a safe place for growing, for everyone born, a star overhead; 
and God will delight when we are creators of justice and joy, compassion and peace!
---Shirley Erena Murray

You have probably said it, prayed it, whined it even. I know I have. 'God, where is the justice? Why must we live in such an unfair world? Why can't we all just get along?' For those times that I find myself in need of a 'Why, Lord?' intervention, this hymn hits home every time. Entitled 'For Everyone Born, a Place at the Table', this modern hymn by New Zealand hymnist Shirley Erena Murray turns all my questions upside down. For in this song, God is cheering us on, as we work for justice, as we seek to make this world a fair and safe place for all. God is delighting as we use our power as children of God as a force for good in this world --- for looking after the least, the lost, the littlest in the kingdom. When we as people of faith let loose a little more compassion in the world, a little more peace, a little more 'enough' for God's global family, that star overhead shines a little more brightly, guiding the way to the place where the Baby lies.

God will delight when we create justice in this world! Imagine a world where everyone born has enough, and God rejoices over us!

I Will Gather You

The Lord your God is with you, mighty to save.
The Lord will take great delight in you, 
will quiet you with love, 
will rejoice over you with singing.
I will rescue the lame and gather those who have been scattered.
At that time I will gather you;
at that time I will bring you home.
---the prophet Zephaniah

On this Gaudate Sunday, this Rejoice Sunday of Advent, it is hard to summon up joy. When we close our eyes, it is the faces of slaughtered children that stare back at us, it is news reports of carnage that ring in our ears, it is nightmares that flood our dreamscapes. Where does joy come from in a time saturated with sorrow?

I thank God for the lectionary, the 3 year cycle of prescribed Bible readings for use in worship and study. The lectionary, if followed, keeps us from selecting "pet" scriptures to which we return repeatedly at the expense of other scripture. If not for the lectionary, what are the odds that many of us would have spent time today with the prophet Zephaniah, looking for joy? And here we find our source of joy, in the midst of any circumstance. The God of the universe is here with us, rejoicing over...us. We will be gathered to God, a gathering that is not just a heavenly gathering, but one that can begin here and now. Like a loving Father, God will save and rescue. Like a loving Mother, our God gathers us to God's bosom, and brings us home.

Rejoice, brothers and sisters.