...till you're better

Come, ye weary, heavy-laden, lost and ruined by the fall;

If you tarry till you’re better, you will never come at all.

Let not conscience make you linger, nor of fitness fondly dream;

All the fitness He requireth is to feel your need of Him.

---Joseph Hart, 1759

I have never had a maid or cleaning service (visit my house and you’ll know it!), but I have heard several folks speak of “cleaning up for the maid to come”. It always makes me smile a little, but I sort of know the impulse. Maybe it is the same urge that overcomes folks with disorganized piles of random receipts just before they meet with their accountants. There is something in us that will admit we are needy, but not too needy. We need Jesus’ salvation and life-changing power, but we don’t want to need it too much. Sure, we’re sinners, but not sinners.

This hymn, one of my favorites from that era (1800’s American), reminds me all the time that we all need Jesus, and that if I wait around to acknowledge my need till I’m more worthy of Christ’s attention, time will pass, and I may never approach the intimacy with God that Jesus offers me. I need not dream of fitness; Jesus is ready to accept me as I am…poor…needy…ready.

...seeking the city

Where cross the crowded ways of life,

Where sound the cries of race and clan,

Above the noise of selfish strife

We hear your voice, O Son of Man!

In haunts of wretchedness and need,

On shadowed thresholds dark with fears,

From paths where hide the lures of greed

We catch the vision of your tears.

The cup of water given for you

Still holds the freshness of your grace;

Yet long these multitudes to view

The strong compassion of your face.

O Master, from the mountainside,

Make haste to heal these hearts of pain;

Among these restless throngs abide,

O tread the city’s streets again;

Till all the world shall learn your love

And follow where your feet have trod:

Till glorious from your heaven above

Shall come the city of our God.

---Frank Mason North, 1903

What a privilege we have today, to experience this hymn, just over a century old. It presents a great contrast between two cities --- one earthly, one the city of God. In this verse, I can almost feel the dank walls of the city closing in on me: narrow alleys with doorways leading to shadowy rooms; streets crowded with strangers passing, eyes down; threat of danger holding in the stale air like a threadbare blanket. Wretchedness, greed, fear, the noise of selfish strife, lurk around each corner and haunt each boulevard.

And Christ himself visits these streets, never shrinking from the pain and need. Weeping while he walks, aching for the hurting world he loves, but fully giving himself to its brokenness. And while we are Christ’s people in this brokedown city, we walk and weep like our brother Savior.

But there is another city, another city than the one we manage to create when left to our own devices. This city is inhabited with love, and these streets, too, are paved with the footfalls of Jesus; walking in them, living in the rare air of compassion, we put our hands to the wheel to co-create the Kingdom with our Savior. The cup of cold water still holds the freshness of grace; we tread the streets together, Christ among us, on his face “strong compassion.”

Seeking the City…

...come and get it

Come, then, children, with your burdens --- life’s confusions, fears, and pain.

Leave them at the cross of Jesus, take instead His kingdom’s reign.

Bring your thirsts, for He will quench them --- He alone will satisfy.

All our longings find attainment when to self we gladly die.

---Marva J. Dawn, 1999

From pop culture to Protestant work ethic, from self-realization to prosperity gospel, even the loose cherry-picked readings of some of the New Testament’s “red letter writings” ---  all over, the universe seems to be sending us a message loud and clear: If you want it, come and get it. Take what you need. The desires of your heart are there for a reason. Seek and you will find. Work for what you want. God wants you to have nice things.

Here’s the thing, though. When we are invited, coaxed, beckoned, called by Jesus to walk in his path, we do hear “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find….For everyone who asks receives.” But I can’t help but look at Jesus’ life among the poor and broken, and think that perpetual Christmas morning excess is not what he had in mind. I hear Jesus say, “When you lay down the distraction of what you thought you wanted, you can begin to focus on the real life of the spirit. And I will meet every need. And you will finally be able to stop striving, and running after, and grasping, and resenting. And then, friend, you will know what it is to live.”

Lay down your burdens at the cross. Pick up life.

...to not need you

Sister, let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you;

pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

Brother, let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you;

pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

---Richard Gillard, 1974

Lord, make me useful. How can I help? What can I do for you?

How quick we are as a people to offer, and (generally) follow through with, help, assistance, and support to those around us in need. And that is awesome. And while we may argue with Joey Tribbiani of Friends fame over whether there is any truly selfless good deed (“Look, there’s no unselfish good deeds, sorry.”), most of us would agree that serving others makes the world a kinder, gentler place. We are quick to offer to friends, family, and even strangers the hand of help, as Charlie Puth sings in his well-known song:

            I’m only one call away, I’ll be there to save the day,

            Superman got nothing on me, I’m only one call away.

What I am not as good at, and I bet the same could be said for you, is allowing someone the gift of being servant to me in my need. I would do nearly anything to not need you. And that, friends, is a crying shame. Because when I keep you from serving me in my need (and it is there, let’s not kid each other) I don’t just rob myself of the aid and comfort you are glad to offer me as your sister. I also fail to exercise the grace of allowing you to be a servant, to participate in your own transformation into the likeness of Christ. All because I would swear with my last breath that I’m just fine.

Let us be each other’s servants. And let us allow others the holy privilege of serving us. This grace…it’s a mutual dance, never meant as a solo.

...seeking that city

In haunts of wretchedness and need,

On shadowed thresholds dark with fears,

From paths where hide the lures of greed

We catch the vision of your tears.

---Frank Mason North, 1903

What a privilege we have today, to experience this hymn, just over a century old. It presents a great contrast between two cities --- one earthly, one the city of God. In this verse, I can almost feel the dank walls of the city closing in on me: narrow alleys with doorways leading to shadowy rooms; streets crowded with strangers passing, eyes down; threat of danger holding in the stale air like a threadbare blanket. Wretchedness, greed, fear, the noise of selfish strife, lurk around each corner and haunt each boulevard.

But there is another city, another city than the one we manage to create when left to our own devices. This city is inhabited with love, and the streets are paved with the footfalls of Jesus; walking in them, living in the atmosphere of love, we put our hands to the wheel to co-create the Kingdom with our Savior. The cup of cold water still holds the freshness of grace; we tread the streets together, Christ among us, on his face “strong compassion.”

Seeking that City…

...I need you, Jesus (but just a little)

Come, ye weary, heavy-laden, lost and ruined by the fall;

If you tarry till you’re better, you will never come at all.

Let not conscience make you linger, nor of fitness fondly dream;

All the fitness he requireth is to feel your need of him.

---Joseph Hart, 1759

I have never had a maid or cleaning service (visit my house and you’ll know it!), but I have heard several folks speak of “cleaning up for the maid to come”. It always makes me smile a little, but I sort of know the impulse. Maybe it is the same urge that overcomes folks with disorganized piles of random receipts just before they meet with their accountants. There is something in us that will admit we are needy, but not too needy. We need Jesus’ salvation and life-changing power, but we don’t want to need it too much. Sure, we’re sinners, but not sinners.

This hymn, one of my favorites from that era (1800’s American), reminds me all the time that we all need Jesus, and that if I wait around to acknowledge my need till I’m more worthy of Christ’s attention, time will pass, and I may never approach the intimacy with God that Jesus offers me. I need not dream of fitness; Jesus is ready to accept me as I am…poor…needy…ready.

...when we don't hear

God is calling through the voices of our neighbors’ urgent prayers:

Through their longing for redemption and for rescue from despair.

Place of hurt or face of needing; strident cry or silent pleading:

God is calling --- can you hear? God is calling --- can you hear?

---Mary Louise Bringle, 2003

“Oh, how I would like to hear God speak clearly!” “I’m just waiting on a sign from God.” “It would have been so much easier to live in Jesus’ time --- we could hear straight from his lips what he wanted from us!” If you have not been the speaker of one of these comments (or something similar), you have surely heard folk who have said these things. If only God would speak, and tell us exactly what we need to know!

In this very new hymn, Mel Bringle posits that God is speaking to us in our modern age. God is speaking through the natural beauty of the world, through music and art, through hymns and carols. She also states that God is speaking to us, pleading, in the voices of those with needs and hungers living among us. God speaks to us in the tragedies and injustices of the world in which we live.

Jesus even addressed this kind of God-speak in Matthew 25. The ‘church people’ asked him, incredulous, “When in the world did we ever hear your voice, Jesus, calling out to us in need or pain?” And Jesus said, “Anytime you heard the cry of your fellow humans, of basic needs, of care and concern, of human dignity, that voice was mine.”

God is calling. When we don't hear, it is not because the calling has stopped.

...the dance of grace

Sister, let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you;

pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

Brother, let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you;

pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

---Richard Gillard, 1974

Lord, make me useful. How can I help? What can I do for you?

How quick we are as a people to offer, and (generally) follow through with, help, assistance, and support to those around us in need. And that is awesome. And while we may argue with Joey Tribbiani of Friends fame over whether there is any truly selfless good deed (“Look, there’s no unselfish good deeds, sorry.”), most of us would agree that serving others makes the world a kinder, gentler place. We are quick to offer to friends, family, and even strangers the hand of help, as Charlie Puth sings in his new song:

            I’m only one call away, I’ll be there to save the day,

            Superman got nothing on me, I’m only one call away.

What I am not as good at, and I bet the same could be said for you, is allowing someone the gift of being servant to me in my need. I would do nearly anything to not need you. And that, friends, is a crying shame. Because when I keep you from serving me in my need (and it is there, let’s not kid each other) I don’t just rob myself of the aid and comfort you are glad to offer me as your sister. I also fail to exercise the grace of allowing you to be a servant, to participate in your own transformation into the likeness of Christ. All because I would swear with my last breath that I’m just fine.

Let us be each other’s servants. And let us allow others the holy privilege of serving us. This grace…it’s a mutual dance, never meant as a solo.

...just what I needed

Who would think that what was needed to transform and save the earth
might not be a plan or army, proud in purpose, proved in worth?
Who would think, despite derision, that a child should lead the way?
God surprises earth with heaven, coming here on Christmas Day.
---John L. Bell and Graham Maule, 1987

"Oh, it's just what I needed!" I wonder how many times this refrain was heard around Christmas trees and hearths today as family and friends gathered and opened packages. I also wonder how many different ways there are to speak this simple statement --- "Just what I needed!" "Just what I needed?" "JUST what I NEEDED!" (teen angst version) "Juuuuust what I needed!" (flat tire when you're running late version). The funny thing is, there have been a couple of times I've gotten that gift, you know the one, that I can't quite figure out. I don't know the giver's motivation, or what good it will be to me, or (honestly) whether this person even knows me at all. It's the kind of gift that tempts me to say, in one of it's variations, "Just what I needed?"

The world, then as it does now, clamored for a ruler with some muscle behind his rhetoric. A little firepower to back up his diplomacy. Someone with the guts to stick it to the man, not back down,  to throw off the yoke of Roman oppression. Enemies smell weakness, they will eat you alive. No time, this, for peacemakers, for path-straighteners, for do-gooders, for God's sake.

And then the gift we are given, the one that confuses and confounds, turns out to be our salvation. Turns out to be "just what we needed".

Thanks be to God, on this Christmas Day, that we don't get to pick out our own gifts.