Graffiti

Recently I was reading The Message and found Eugene Peterson’s translation of Psalm 17. My attention was arrested as I read the following passage…

I call to you, God, because I'm sure of an answer. So--answer! bend your ear! listen sharp! Paint grace--graffiti on the fences; take in your frightened children who are running from the neighborhood bullies straight to you. Keep your eye on me; hide me under your cool wing feathers From the wicked who are out to get me, from mortal enemies closing in. v.6-9

Grace –Graffiti….hmmm…that phrase made me think…The Oxford English Dictionary shed new light on these words. Consider these word meanings….

Grace-noun 1. elegance of movement. 2. (in Christian belief) the free and unearned favour of God.

Graffiti / gr feeti/ - plural noun (sing. graffito / gr feeto/) treated as sing. or plural. unauthorized writing or drawings on a surface in a public place. - verb, write or draw graffiti on.

Grace-Graffiti…Grace, the free and unearned favour of God…Graffiti…writing or drawings on a surface. Grace Graffiti…the free and unearned favour of God written on the lives of his people. Wow! What a thought….God writing His grace on the surfaces of our heart.

What a thought!

Reflections

It's Sunday evening and I am at home reflecting on a great day of experiences.

The music was great...the worship was great...and His Word was clear to all of us who were there. The service closed with a time of openness before God. Nothing fancy...not an "altar call", but a simple invitation for people to spend some time thinking about areas of their lives that needed His change and transformation.

The front of the chapel was packed with sincere pilgrims who wanted transformation.

I stood in the front and was one of those who wants transformation in my life.

Then it hit me....

In my reading earlier this week I ran across a question that haunts me. How you answer the question determines your TQ. Transformation Quotient.

Here's the question...

Is the church for me? or, Is it me for the church?

For a long time I thought the church was for me. Intuitively I knew different, but it was comforting for me to say "this is my church." I approached it as a consumer, looking for what it could do for me. I even yielded to the temptation at times to be critical and say, "I didn't get anything out of it."

As I become a serious pilgrim, I realize that the real question is, "Is it me for the church?" I am not a consumer, I am a contributor.

The moment I shifted my perspective, I began to see transformation in my life.

I have seen a lot of people who are critical of the church and leadership during my life. When I hear criticisms it makes me wonder how they see the question.

Reflections are fun at the end of a day like today.

There are a lot of things that I am not sure of, but I am sure that I want to be a part of a church where transformation regularly takes place in the lives of those who attend. I think that kind of church is a place where people see themselves for the church rather than see the church for themselves.

What do you think?

Perception

Recently I ran across an interesting paragraph, entitled The Amazing Human Mind. Here is what it looks like....

I cdnuolt blveiee that I cluod aulacity uesdnatnrd what I was rdenieg. The phaonemneal pweor of the hmuan mnid Aodccrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dnsoen’t mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a word are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is that the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rrset can be a taotl mses and you can still raed it wouthit a porbelm. This is bcuseae the hmuan mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the word as a wlohe. Azmanig huh? Yaed and I awlyas tghuoht slpeling was ipmorantt!

When I entered the paragraph into Microsoft Word the screen lit up with squiggly lines indicating that there were words mispelled.

What interested me was that I could read the paragraph just as easily with the words misspelled as I could with words spelled correctly.

I love words even if they are misspelled.

Waht do yuo thnki?

Story

The week is over and tomorrow is Saturday.

I have no way of verifying the veracity of this story....but it is part of the fabric of today's activities.

Sitting in the waiting room at the hospital today, I heard a story that I found humorous.

He told me that his 8 year old nephew has plenty of energy that easily tires out his parents. He described the escapades of this little guy in ways that were amusing and captured my imagination.

It seems that he was suspended from his art class in his homeschool group. My mind raced to think of offenses that merit suspension in a situation like this.

Arriving home he announced to his parents that he was no longer able to take art lessons with his fellow home-schoolers.

"Son, what did you do? Why can't you go back?"

"I kissed my girlfriend?

"You what?"

"I kissed my girlfriend."

"Just once?

"No"

"Lots of times!"

Then the problem surfaced. The little girl that he kissed was the daughter of the art teacher. His parents probed further.

"Why did you kiss her so many times?

It spilled out..."Mom, my mind quit workin' and my lips took over."

I would have loved to have been there to see what happened next.

It's a great line...it's the kind of line that country music songs are made of.

What a great story to end a very busy week.

Enough said.

Writing

"Writing is not an amusing occupation. It is a combination of ditch-digging, mountain climbing, treadmill, and childbirth."

These words came from the pen of Edna Ferber and are found in Peculiar Treasure written in 1939. Before Microsoft Word, before email, even before laser printers, people wrote words on paper. Like fluid, words spilled from the end of fountain pens and pencils onto pristine pages in dazzling plots and narratives.

Ferber was an American novelist, author and playwright. One of her most famous forays into the world of writing was Showboat, later adapted by Oscar Hammerstein. She was also a Pulitzer Prize winner who wrote prolific stories of romance.

She was an adept writer.

She knew her craft and practiced it well.

Ditch-digging, moutain climbing, treadmill and childbirth are incredible metaphors that reveal the amusing occupation of writing.

Ditch-digging....pretty dirty work and toilsome on the best of days.

Mountain climbing....all uphill and very little time to stand still

Treadmill....a lot of walking in place, but great exercise for never going anywhere

Childbirth....lots of blood, sweat and tears but the results can be great

Ferber was using these words to describe the task of writing.

Could these same words be used to describe the life of the pilgrim who seeks to live in the majesty of His unfolding Story?

Some days I do a lot of ditch-digging...some days I am climbing mountains....some days are sweaty as I walk on the treadmill....childbirth...well, I have seen it twice and have reveled in its result.

I wish all days were filled with pleasantries like Ferber described in some of her writings. But I have learned that life is life and as such, we have the joy of experiencing its unfolding drama.

God, help me not to complain when I am digging ditches, help me to depend on you when climbing mountains, help me not to bemoan those times when life seems to stand still and help new ideas to be born in me that will bring glory to your Name. Amen.

Deadly

There are seven of them...seven deadly sins. And here all along, I thought all sins were deadly.

The Roman Catholic church divided sins into two categories, Mortal and Venial. Venial sins were those that could be remedied by sacraments and were not considered "serious." Mortal sins, also known as capital or cardinal sins (interesting choice of words) were those that were considered "deadly." The remedy for mortal sins is confession and contrition.

I'm pretty sure that there are plenty of mortal and venial sins in every community, including the one that I live in.

Forbes magazine, in an article entitled America's Most Sinful Cities, examined US cities and named cities to correspond with each of the mortal sins. Pretty interesting stuff.

Lust, Gluttony, Avarice, Sloth, Wrath, Envy and Pride. Here's what the list looks like...

Lust - Denver, Colorado....record contraception sales

Gluttony - Memphis....gotta love those ribs

Avarice - San Jose...."do you know the way to San Jose..."

Sloth - Memphis...enough said

Wrath - Detroit...#1 Murder ranking in the US

Envy - Memphis...again...ouch!

Pride - Salt Lake City...

I was hoping that my city wouldn't be on the list, and sure enough we avoided making the list. That made me feel proud, then I wondered if that feeling was a mortal or venial sin.

I love bbq...oops, gluttony lurks around the corner.

There are times when my attitudes make me a viable candidate for living in Memphis.

Then there are moments when I feel a sense of, "at least I am not as bad as that person." I hear Salt Lake City calling.

Avarice....an insatiable desire for wealth....that thought has crossed my mind on occasion. Just because it probably won't happen doesn't mean that I am exempt from the temptation to go down that road.

Investigate my life, O God, find out everything about me; Cross-examine and test me, get a clear picture of what I'm about; See for yourself whether I've done anything wrong—then guide me on the road to eternal life. Psalms 139:23-24 (The Message)

Enough said...

What do you think?

Clay

I am always impressed by the writings of a second century saint named St. Irenaeus.

He was a formative factor in the birth of early writings in Christian theology. It is not those writings that have my attention, it is a simple prayer that he wrote.

It is a prayer born out of his desire to be malleable in the hands of God.

It is not thou that shapest God,

It is God that shapest thee.

If then, thou art the work of God,

Await the hand of the Artist who does

All things in due season.

Offer Him thy heart,Soft and tractable and

keep the form in which the artist has fashioned thee.

Let thy clay be moist lest thou grow hard

And lose the imprint of His fingers.

Moist clay is easily shaped. Dry clay isn't.

Moist clay retains the imprint of the shaper. Dry clay doesn't.

Moist clay is pliable. Dry clay isn't.

"Still, God, you are our Father.We're the clay and you're our potter: All of us are what you made us." Isaiah 64:8

My prayer is the God will rain down his Spirit and moisten the clay of my life so that He can shape me into a container that He can use. I pray that I will remember that he is the shaper and I am the shaped.

Sometimes I think I am the shaper....when I do my clay becomes hard and brittle.

I want to be shaped by the Master Shaper.

How about you?