...God's geometry

The church of Christ cannot be bound by walls of wood or stone.

Where charity and love are found, there can the church be known.

---Adam M. L. Tice, 2005

When Sarah was a young child, she wore out a CD of kids’ Christian songs---knew every word on every track, and often sang them at the top of her lungs. Lucky for me, the music was fine (mostly) and the theology had some meat on its bones. One of the songs on the CD was ‘If You Tried to Put God in a Box’. The first little bit goes,

            If you tried to put God in a box, how big would the box have to be?

            How strong would you make it? How long would it last

            If you tried to put God in a box?

The answer to this child’s riddle, of course, is that God will not be boxed in by any construction of human hand or mind. The irony, of course, is that we, most of us, spend our lives trying mightily to build that box. And to get our version of a greatly diminished God to jump on in. How foolish, to strive and strive to remake our Maker over in our own image---to fit our box. Ah, but fear not. God has no intention of being confined to the space we can imagine.

Thank God.

And here’s the other thing. The Church? The Body of Christ? We were never meant to be bound by the geometry of the cube. What draws us inward is only to energize and strengthen us to burst every boundary that separates us from a weak and wounded world. What pulls us close is to prepare us to fling light into the shadows and shower love on disregard. Those were never walls---they were bridges, for God’s sake.

Thanks be to you, O God. You never met a box you didn’t break. Embolden your Church to live/love with the same reckless abandon.

...pass-through gifts

I then shall live as one who’s learned compassion;

I’ve been so loved that I’ll risk loving too.

I know how fear builds walls instead of bridges;

I dare to see another’s point of view.

And when relationships demand commitment,

then I’ll be there to care and follow through.

---Gloria Gaither, 1981

Pat Benatar sang it, and there are times I almost believe it.

            Love is a battlefield.

There are so many ways to get burned. To get let down. To fall short. To do the hurting. To walk away. To run.

Thank God. No, really…thank God, for being our teacher in love, as in all things. Because we learn compassion from the creator of compassion. Because we pattern commitment from our model of steadfast love. Because we have watched our brother-Savior tear down the walls of fear that divide, we’ve heard stories of bridges of understanding spanning deep chasms. We have read the stories, too, of God’s love offered to an indifferent world, and of the patience and kindness offered even in the face of that indifference.

Fear whispers, “There are so many ways for love to go wrong.”

Thank God for the pass-through gifts of such compassion and understanding

...tearing down our fences

*this writing was tapped into being in the year 2008, but seemed timely when I stumbled across it.
-laca.

So brothers, sisters, praise his name who died to set us free

From sin, division, hate and shame, from spite and enmity!

In Christ there is no east or west --- he breaks all barriers down;

By Christ redeemed, by Christ possessed, in Christ we live as one.

“Good fences make good neighbors,” says the New England neighbor in Robert Frost’s Mending Wall. And probably at some time in all of our lives, we may have been tempted to quote him; when the neighbor’s grass reaches knee-high, when the next-door yard is full of tiny plastic ride-on toys and lots of screaming toddlers falling off them, maybe when your neighbor gardens in a bikini that would have been close-fitting several years and pounds) back. We even like the idea of fences and walls to keep certain groups of folks separated from others; them, and us.

In this text we sing that Christ came to break barriers, to minimize what separates us, to set us free from the things that hold us back from unity. And there is something a little scary about tearing down fences, something a little out-of-control about ending our human-constructed divisions. Jesus says we’ll just have to trust him for that. “Something there is,” Robert Frost said, “that doesn’t love a wall.”

Here’s to a tear-down, coming soon to a neighborhood near you!

...God in a box

The church of Christ cannot be bound by walls of wood or stone.

Where charity and love are found, there can the church be known.

---Adam M. L. Tice, 2005

When Sarah was a young child, she wore out a CD of kids’ Christian songs---knew every word on every track, and often sang them at the top of her lungs. Lucky for me, the music was fine (mostly) and the theology had some meat on its bones. One of the songs on the CD was ‘If You Tried to Put God in a Box’. The first little bit goes,

            If you tried to put God in a box, how big would the box have to be?

            How strong would you make it? How long would it last

            If you tried to put God in a box?

The answer to this child’s riddle, of course, is that God will not be boxed in by any construction of human hand or mind. The irony, of course, is that we, most of us, spend our lives trying mightily to build that box. And to get our version of a greatly diminished God to jump on in. How foolish, to strive and strive to remake our Maker over in our own image---to fit our box. Ah, but fear not. God has no intention of being confined to any space we can imagine.

Thank God.

And here’s the other thing. The Church? The Body of Christ? We were never meant to be bound by the geometry of the cube. What draws us inward is only to energize and strengthen us to burst every boundary that separates us from a weak and wounded world. What pulls us close is to prepare us to fling light into the shadows and shower love on disregard. Those were never walls---they were bridges, for God’s sake.

Thanks be to you, O God. For you never met a box you didn’t break. Embolden your Church to live/love with the same reckless abandon.

...doesn't love a wall

Nothing in height or in depth
which befriends or befalls us,
nothing in life or death
which forbids or forestalls us,
nothing can limit the love of our saviour, Jesus.
---John L. Bell, 1998

 "You must be this tall to ride this ride." "You must be born after this date to _______ (play in this league, enter kindergarten, see this movie, buy beer)." "Sale price: $2.99. Limit 4." "Whites only."

Oh, we humans love our limits. We love to put them on others --- what are rules, really, but limits imposed on society? Sometimes with good reason, sometimes for no discernible reason at all, we hem others in with lists of rules --- the 'thou shalts' and 'thou shalt nots' (we especially love the 'thou shalt nots'!) --- like bright strings of barbed wire keeping cattle contained in a field.

The funny thing is, we also seem to like to set limits on ourselves, or to let someone else set them for us. If there are no rules, we would have to invent some. Something about staring out across that open prairie scares the daylights out of us. Like the neighbor in Robert Frost's Mending Wall, we murmur under our breath, "Good fences make good neighbors," and keep on stacking stones to divide us from limitlessness.

Because it is our way, then, to set limits, we fail at comprehending a limitless God. Because it is our way, we spend our energy stacking stones at what we perceive to be the limits of God's powerful love. "Good fences make good neighbors. Good fences make good neighbors. Good fences make good neighbors." We spend our waking hours stringing glinting, razor-sharp barbed-wire at the edge of our conception of the limits of God's mercy.

And all the while, God stands, smiling, one step over the fence. One step beyond our limits. Because nothing can separate us.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall...

...set free from fear and failure

Come, Thou long expected Jesus, born to set Thy people free;
from our fears and sins release us; let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel's strength and consolation, hope of all the earth Thou art;
dear desire of every nation, joy of every longing heart.
---Charles Wesley, 1744

Fear and failure. Fear and failure. Are there any two more potent negatively-charged concepts in modern language? Can anything paralyze us more, sap our energy, drain our creative potential, cause us to second-guess ourselves and doubt the motives of those around us, than fear and failure? When we are trapped behind masks of fear, limiting our life choices and building walls to divide ourselves from the 'other'; when our past failures echo in our ears and memories so loudly they drown out the call to venture again; here we are trapped, and here there is no rest.

Our word for sin is from the Greek 'hamartia', an archer's term for 'missing the mark' --- failure. This Jesus, then, born Israel's strength and hope of all the world, comes somehow with the power to set us free from the strongest chains --- the ones we forge ourselves from our own fears and failures. Our pasts are the only prisons we've ever needed, and we are expert jailers; we excel at imprisoning ourselves and others behind thick walls made of our own fears and the failures of the past, both personal and corporate.

Christ comes to leave not one stone on stone. Are you ready to be free? Are you ready for others to be free? Fear and failure have no power over us in the path of the coming Christ!