Touching Jesus

Posted on October 17, 2013 by Margaret

Last Sunday while still in Colorado, our group of ladies wanted to attend church together, so 3 cars headed for downtown Colorado Springs and the Presbyterian church of our hostess. Since she had a part in the service, she and her husband left early, and I went with them, hoping for a quiet prayer time on a lovely morning.

I found a bench not far from the church’s main entrance, appreciating a view of the distant Rocky Mountains and a snow-capped Pike’s Peak. It wasn’t long before families began arriving for the service, walking in groups from nearby city parking. As they came close, I marveled over the enthusiasm of youngsters racing ahead of their parents. “We want to see Jesus!” they said, breaking into a run. Others shouted, “We’re going to Jesus!” or “We’ll meet you by Jesus!” All I could think was that this church must have had a cracker-jack Sunday school program.

Once inside, I saw what they’d been talking about, a full-sized bronze Jesus holding a young child. Although his arm was wrapped around the toddler sitting on his knee (with the toddler’s arm wrapped around him), his other arm was up and open, welcoming anyone who might want to climb on the other side of his lap.

Children were crawling all over Jesus, some sitting on his knee, others clinging to his back, one up on his shoulders. He was “polished” with the evidence of many embraces, and comparing that scene to Scripture’s picture of Jesus relating to children, these kids had the right idea.

In Luke 18 Jesus rearranged his disciples’ priorities, telling them they had it all wrong by trying to keep kids away from him. “Don’t stop them!” he said. (v. 16) “My kingdom belongs to those who believe in Me with exactly this kind of open-mindedness and acceptance.”

But the disciples had a different agenda, thinking his preaching mattered more. What they didn’t realize was that he was preaching: to them. “You see these little ones? Watch how I’m delighting in their presence, loving them, blessing them. And take a lesson. You’re no more important than they are. As a matter of fact, why don’t you model yourselves after the eagerness and confidence they have in me. Then you’ll be on track for my kingdom.”

The statue of Jesus I saw last Sunday was originally commissioned as the centerpiece of a playground, the artist intending that children climb all over him. She named her work “The Embrace of Jesus,” hoping little ones would feel Christ’s embrace and then respond to his love.

Since the adults in this church loved the sculpture as much as the kids did, eventually it was moved inside. And as I stood next to this life-sized Jesus, it was satisfying to realize that his empty knee and outstretched arm were big enough even for me.

“Assuredly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it.” (Luke 18:17)

Try, Try, and Try Again

Posted on October 14, 2013 by Margaret

Back in the sixties, Elvis Presley recorded a love song called, “Trying to Get to You.”

I’ve been traveling over mountains,
Even through the valleys, too.
I’ve been traveling night and day;
I’ve been running all the way,
Baby, trying to get to you.

When someone is in love, nothing can dissuade him from wanting to be with his beloved. A great illustration of this was when my friend Carole was engaged to her Reggie in 1969. She was in Florida, preparing their first apartment, and he was finishing a job 1400 miles away, in Chicago

Being separated was torture, and they spent hours on the phone. Then one day Reggie couldn’t wait another minute and jumped into his orange VW Beetle, pointing it south. Except for gasoline stops, he put pedal to the metal, “trying to get to Carole.”

While in England recently I experienced another version of the same thing. Early each morning as Katy and Hans supervised the waking, dressing, and bed-making of their 4 children, I was “hiding out” in the next room, taking advantage of a few minutes devotional time. They facilitated my efforts by telling the children, “No one disturbs MeeMee when her door is closed.”

One morning while sitting on the bed praying, I heard whispers in the hall. “She’s in there!” Suddenly 10 little fingertips appeared under my door trying to get as close to me as possible without violating the parental edict. Soon a second and third set of fingertips appeared, “trying to get to me.” I felt very loved.

All of us will make a major effort to get close to who (or what) we love. That includes both appropriate love (such as between engaged couples) and inappropriate (like drugs, for example). When love is strong, we work hard “trying to get to” whoever or whatever it is.

I’ve wondered if I am that passionate toward the Father, Son, and Spirit. Am I “trying to get to them?” Or do I succumb to excuses not to try:

I’ll do my Bible study lesson after my work is done.
There will be other seasons of life when I can pray, but not now.
I can’t manage a spiritual life because I keep getting interrupted.

Our “get to you” factor is a good chance to see where we stand with the Lord. If we never get there, we probably should reassess.

On the flip side, anything I do to get to him can’t possibly compare with the effort he made to get to me. Jesus did it in two ways, first by setting aside divinity to put on humanity, and then by willingly suffering through death. His actions said, “I’ll do anything to get to you.”

When I remember Reggie’s race to Carole or my grandchildren’s fingertips under the door, I can ask myself, “Am I trying to get to God like that?”

“If anyone loves me, he will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him.” (John 14:23)

Cold Feet

Posted on October 10, 2013 by Margaret

Last week, when strapping Emerald into her stroller for a walk, we noticed a missing bootee had been placed atop the buggy’s hood. Later a neighbor said she’d found it on the road while walking her puppy 4 blocks away. “It had to be Emerald’s,” she said.

This week when I went to answer a gentle knock on my front door, there stood another neighbor holding up a pink bootee. “I found it on my walk,” she said, “2 blocks down. It had to be Emerald’s.”

Emerald is forever pulling off her socks/booties and dropping them along the way, like Hansel and Gretel dropped bread crumbs. Although Birgitta, Louisa, and I try to keep an eye, it never fails that when we arrive home, one or both are missing.

All summer Emerald has been barefoot, but the other day it was chilly, so we tried socks and shoes. The darling purple slippers with Velcro straps were perfectly sized to her feet, but sure enough, by the end of the walk they were gone. We backtracked 3 blocks before we found the 2 socks and 2 shoes.

The next time we used her lace-up high-whites, but she balled up her toes so stiffly we couldn’t get them on. I have no idea what we’re going to do with our barefoot baby as seasonal temperatures dip further.

We 3 adults want only to help our little girl, but she views compulsory footwear as a withdrawal of her freedom to be barefoot. The spiritual parallel is obvious: God steadily tries to help us, too, but we often see his ideas as a withdrawal of our freedom. Emerald likes her way better than ours and will continue to pursue barefoot-ed-ness, a silly plan as winter approaches.

But do the rest of us respond to God with similar childishness?

For example, God says, “Why don’t you forgive that person you’re holding a grudge against? If you do, you’ll lose that chip on your shoulder that’s continually upsetting you.”

But rather than acquiesce, we respond Emerald-esque: “The way I’m handling it is better, so I’m going to continue in my anger.” At that point, God has a choice. He can either let us have our own way, stuck in our misery, or he can bring things to a head in an effort to help us, since he loves us dearly.

In the same way, we can give Emerald permission, so to speak, to go barefoot through our Michigan winter, or we can insist she wear footwear. Because we love her dearly, we’re going to insist. She’ll object only because she hasn’t had any experience with stinging-cold toes or painful frostbite, and we hope she never will.