...lift life heavenward

Lord, You make the common holy: “This My body, this My blood.”

Let us all, for earth’s true glory, daily lift life heavenward,

asking that the world around us share Your children’s liberty:

with the Spirit’s gifts empower us for the work of ministry.

---Jeffrey Rowthorn, 1978

Have you ever known someone with the touch? Someone who could take the most ordinary day and imbue it with otherworldliness? Turn an everyday action into a ritual of uncommon beauty? Take a passing conversation and bless the words exchanged, draw out the pain and joy masked behind safely neutral words and phrases?

I feel like Jesus must have been one of these rare persons. There are so many recorded instances of him breathing holiness into the mundane everyday of existence—everyday tasks, everyday conversations, everyday touches. In Jesus’ hands, touch healed disease and stigma, the fruit of wheat and vine became sacred sign. In Jesus’ mouth, names spoken called fishermen from their nets, taxmen from their graft, the dead from their repose, faithful women from their grief.

Is the gift for crafting sacredness from ordinariness, then, Jesus’ gift uniquely? Or are we to be imitators of Christ in this too, always open for the Spirit to move in us to transform the common into the holy…in the midst of us…through us?

Let us all, for earth’s true glory, daily lift life heavenward…

...no escaping beauty

For the beauty of the earth, for the glory of the skies,

for the love which from our birth over and around us lies:

Lord of all, to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise.

---Folloitt S. Pierpoint, 1864

No real reason for it. Serves no tangible purpose. Can’t be quantified, traded, saved, spent, stored. Wasteful, some have called it. Needless. Sinful, even. Beauty. That’s right, beauty. There have been periods in Christian history during which any sort of artistic expression was frowned upon, sometimes banned outright, its practitioners punished, ostracized.

Yet there it is. Open your eyes. Turn any corner. There is no escaping it. In a world created by God, beauty abundant is literally everywhere; warm light and velvet darkness, green forest and sere desert, pudgy baby knees and deep wisdom of old folk eyes. Beauty in cosmos and cell, in the physical world and the spiritual, natural beauty and human handiwork. We worship a God who flings beauty around like it will never run out. 

Praise the Lord for beauty, true good gift of God.

...a scarred savior

Crown him the Lord of love! Behold His hands and side,

Rich wounds, yet visible above, in beauty glorified;

no angels in the sky can fully bear the sight,

but downward bend their burning eyes at mysteries so bright.

---Matthew Bridges, 1851

There is a country song that includes the line, “…you ain’t lived till you got scars.” I think there is a lot of truth in the statement. My daughter Abby’s knee will always show the scars of a childhood fall from the “high monkey bars” and a couple of inelegant adolescent stair descents. Sarah’s forehead will always have a Harry Potter-esque ‘lightning bolt’ mark to remind her of the hutch at the bottom of the stairs at Grandma’s in Columbus. Any mom will tell of scars related to birthing, then raising, children --- scars both physical and emotional. Life takes its toll on us all.

And life took its toll on Jesus. When I read this hymn, I am struck by the thought that the Jesus glorified in heaven, present with the angels, still bears the scars of a real life. The kinds of scars we all carry--of injury and discouragement, of betrayal and disappointment, of rejection and indifference—if we walk the world long enough, earnestly enough. No air-brushed, cleaned-up, sanitized version of Jesus reigns in heaven. The Lord of love, mystery of mysteries, still bears the marks of his sacrifice on his glorified body.

You ain’t lived till you got scars.

...rich with surprise

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!

What a surprising God we serve!