...outlandishly wide

Will you leave yourself behind if I but call your name?

Will you care for cruel and kind and never be the same?

Will you risk the hostile stare should your life attract or scare?

Will you let Me answer prayer in you and you in Me?

John L. Bell and Graham A. Maule, 1987

What would be the impact on a life of ‘leaving self behind’? What transformations could happen from walking away from the mirror, and looking out the window, then walking out the door? How might old patterns be broken and rebuilt through new pathways of truly selfless service?

In this hymn full of questions, challenges arise. Two of the most challenging questions are set loose in this verse. Is the way we care for people affected by the demeanor of the needy? Can we care for both those to whom we are naturally drawn, and for those who may annoy, anger, or repulse us--showing the generous love of a God who loves us fully at our most unlovable? This question has me returning to take a look in that mirror I was talking about earlier.

Likewise, how prepared are we to be outcast for how fully, and how freely, we love? I have been challenged to see how very many times in the gospels Jesus faced resistance and anger--not for restricting his circle of love, care, and acceptance; but for the times he drew his circle outlandishly wide. Are we ready to love so deep and wide that our lives send people (even people that look like ‘our people’) running for cover…and throwing stones?

And what if all of this turned out to be what prayer looks like, with skin on?

...in their shoeprints

God of past, Who by Your Spirit, led Your people through each age,

may we learn from their example, by their faith our doubts assuage.

May their steadfast resoluteness as they followed in Your way

be for us an inspiration as we serve the present day.

---Milburn Price, 1981

I have written before about the deep and lasting impact that repeated visits to the National Memorial for Peace and Justice have made, continue to make, on my life and spirit. This quiet memorial situated in Montgomery, the heart of the deep South, chronicles the dark cruelty of humanity—and the soul of a culture trying to address that cruelty clear-eyed, and to find a way to heal, and thrive, together. At the Memorial, in addition to the truly overwhelming silent witness of named victims of racial terror lynchings, county by county, several sculptures speak to other steps on the path to ‘now’ for black people. One sculpture work that I am thinking of today is Guided by Justice, by Dana King. In it are depicted the figures of three of the many black women who powered the Montgomery Bus Boycott in the mid-1950’s. The figures shuffle, wrapped in overcoats against the raw midwinter chill, faces etched with weariness, each solitary with her thoughts. Beside the figures are shoeprints planted in the gravel pathway.

In all the time I have stood and watched that sculpture, I have not seen a visitor walk by without at least lining up their own foot beside those shoeprints; many stood in the prints, struggling to manage the emotions threatening to overwhelm them. I know this was my story. And when I’m weary with struggling to see right done, and tempted to give up, I remember that privilege is having the option to give up. And I remember the feeling of fitting my feet into the prints of those women who walked because they had no option left. And their faith and resoluteness lifts me, and reminds me. And I walk on.

...prayer, with skin on

Will you leave yourself behind if I but call your name?

Will you care for cruel and kind and never be the same?

Will you risk the hostile stare should your life attract or scare?

Will you let Me answer prayer in you and you in Me?

--John L. Bell and Graham A Maule, 1987

What would be the impact on a life of ‘leaving self behind’? What transformations could happen from walking away from the mirror, and looking out the window, then walking out the door? How might old patterns be broken and rebuilt through new pathways of truly selfless service?

In this hymn full of questions, challenges arise. Two of the most challenging questions are set loose in this verse. Is the way we care for people affected by the demeanor of the needy? Can we care for both those to whom we are naturally drawn, and to those who may annoy, anger, or repulse us--showing the generous love of a God who loves us fully at our most unloveable? This question has me returning to take a look in that mirror I was talking about earlier.

Likewise, how prepared are we to be outcast for how fully, and how freely, we love? I have been challenged to see how very many times in the gospels that Jesus faced resistance and anger--not for restricting his circle of love, care, and acceptance; but for the times he drew his circle outlandishly wide. Are we ready to love so deep and wide that our lives send people (even people that look like ‘our people’) running for cover…and throwing stones?

And what if all of this turned out to be what prayer looks like, with skin on?

...laying things down

Be yours the Master’s purpose to seek and save the lost,

to ransom those in bondage, to dare nor count the cost;

to love and lift the lowly, to heed the prisoner’s groan,

to take up others’ burdens and bear them as your own.

---Henry Lyle Lambdin, 1969

To follow Christ. To take on our Master’s purpose. To lay aside whatever privilege life has accorded us; and to take on, as our own, the troubles and the sufferings of this hurting world. And every day the sun comes up in our modern times, this world is filled with suffering, troubles, injustices, and outrage and betrayal both ancient and modern. And the fire leaves us all burned. In the words of Martin Luther King, Jr., “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

And I must recognize I have privilege to lay aside, if I want to get down to the business of bearing others’ burdens. And if you are reading this, you most likely have privilege to lay aside, too. If we want to follow Jesus, we have to be in the business of laying things down.

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself….And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient….(Phil. 2:5-8)

This is the full measure of faith. To lay down, and to pick up, for the sake of our human family. To walk in the way of Jesus. 

...complex and simple

Jesus calls us o’er the tumult of our life’s wild restless sea:

day by day his sweet voice soundeth, saying “Christian, follow me!”

---Cecil F. Alexander, 1852

It had been one of those weeks. In one of those months. In one of those seasons. In one of those years. Never quite getting well. Never quite getting the ‘to do’ list ‘to done’. Never quite getting caught up. Never quite feeling ready for…whatever comes next. Never quite feeling worthy of the trust placed in me, or the tasks required of me.

And then I stop. I breathe out, and in. And I notice how myopic my vision has grown, how inward-focused my hearing. With my focus drawn to my inner chaos, my shortcomings, my insufficiency--my attention must by definition be focused on…me.

And so I stop. I breathe out, and in. And I lift my gaze. And I focus my hearing. Out, in. There it is. The gentle leading, the focusing guidance. Follow me. Just that. Out, in. Complex and simple. Follow me. Lift the gaze. Focus the hearing. Out, in.

Follow me.

...in various wrappings

In our joys and in our sorrows, days of toil and hours of ease,

still he calls in cares and pleasures, “Christian, love me more than these.”

Jesus calls us: by your mercies, Savior, may we hear your call,

Give our hearts to full obedience, serve and love you best of all.

---Cecil F. Alexander, 1852

“Christian, love me more than these.” It seems safe to say the thought of being called to love Jesus more than the temporal pleasures of this world is not uncommon. Here in this hymn we are called from the “worship of the vain world’s golden store,” from idols that keep us from God, from joys, from hours of ease, from pleasures. All the things that distract us from our true selves in Christ seem to fit into one of these categories. All the empty glittery good stuff with which the world entices us seems to be covered.

But then I notice: other distractions are mentioned, and they don’t seem as obvious as the pleasures. There is the “tumult of our life’s wild, restless sea” noted in the first verse, and sorrow, days of toil, and cares. Is Cecil Alexander implying that the cares, sorrows, worries, and busy-ness of daily life can also keep us from devotion to our Savior? I think so.

And now that I think about it, he may be right. The things that distract me from walking in Jesus’ way come wrapped in all sorts of packages. What hinders you from daily following Jesus?

...Monday's coming

Soar we now where Christ has led, following our exalted Head;

Made like Him, like Him we rise; ours the cross, the grave, the skies.

Alleluia!

---Charles Wesley, 1739

Here we are at Easter, the simplest day of the year to follow Jesus! Soaring where Christ has led, rising like him…feels pretty wonderful, right? And we need a day like Easter, because the rest of the year is sure to follow. There was a popular poster when I was younger (Kids, we used to unroll these big paper pictures with groovy sayings on them and hang them on our bedroom walls! They were like the memes of a bygone generation!) that featured a cross dramatically backlit, with the text, “It’s Friday…but Sunday’s coming!” Well, I need a poster (but I’d just as soon have a good meme) that says It’s Sunday! …but Monday’s coming. #wompwomp.” We live in a Monday world, friends, where the cross and grave, and busyness and inattention, and a hundred tiny everyday cruelties are always with us. We need a little Easter every now and then. We are promised that if we follow Christ by owning the cross, and the grave, that we will also own the skies with him.

Made like You, to follow You, we turn with expectation toward a future that includes the cross, the grave…and the skies. Alleluia!

...ENOUGH

Add to your believing deeds that prove it true ---

Knowing Christ as Savior, make Him Master too;

Follow in His footsteps, go where He has trod,

In the world’s great trouble risk yourself for God.

---Bryan Jeffery Leech, 1975

…In the world’s great trouble, risk yourself for God. Risk yourself for God. Risk yourself.

When I think of the term ‘risk’, what come immediately to mind are conventional things. I think of things the world would call risky --- speeding, unsafe sex, day trading, touching raw poultry…you get the picture. Way down on my list would be taking the risk of following in Jesus’ footsteps. What kind of risks might there be in following Jesus’ leadership out in the ‘real world’? 

How about standing with the outcast? Standing up for love in a world where hate is a gut reaction and ‘staying out of things that don’t involve you’ is considered, well, magnanimous enough? Turning the other cheek…going the second mile? Tipping over the tables of the moneychangers on a raking-it-in-hand-over-fist-type day? Saying "ENOUGH, for God's sake!" to the body count that rises higher than the temperature on an Alabama July day?

Things like that could get a person in trouble…

Risk yourself.

...wherever it went

And by the light of that same star

The wise men came from country far,

To seek for a king was their intent,

And to follow the star wherever it went.

Nowell, born is the King of Israel.

The wise men have always intrigued me. Unlike the people of Israel, for whom the story of a Messiah was somewhat familiar, these Magi had backgrounds shrouded in mystery, and we can’t know what they thought they would find at the star’s guiding. Surely they were expecting a king recognized by his subjects, properly anointed and installed to the throne. Nestled in this verse of The First Nowell is this intriguing line: “...and to follow the star wherever it went.” Not to follow the star wherever they thought it should go, or to follow the star until it became inconvenient, or to follow the star until it was clear that the star didn’t know what it was doing. To follow the star…wherever it went.

May we, like the Magi, follow the star wherever it leads us, laying aside our preconceptions of appropriate destinations, surrendering our notions of a proper king for the reality of a Savior beyond our understanding.

Follow the star.