Out to Get You!

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When we use the expression, “He’s out to get you,” it always has a negative connotation…. unless we’re using it with a young child.

One of Emerald’s favorite games is for me to reach my arms toward her and say, “I’m gonna get-chu!”

Gonna get-chu!Then, with tiny footsteps, I’ll “chase” her across the room while she runs as fast as her little legs will carry her. She giggles and squeals, looking over her shoulder to be sure I’m still coming, and when I finally grab her, she throws her head back in pure pleasure, happy to have been “gotten.”

Long ago Pastor Colin Smith described God doing his own version of “get-chu.” He started with the example of a mother calling her children to dinner. As she projects her voice toward the family room she says, “Come to the table, kids. Dinner’s ready!”

But, busy with other things, they might not respond. So she calls a second time. Maybe a third. Finally, she leaves the kitchen and literally goes and gets them.

God calls to us much like that mother, but we’re often so wrapped up in doing other things that we don’t move in his direction. Even if we do hear him, we might not come. Thankfully, though, he often decides he’s just going to “go and get” us.

In the Gospels Jesus tells a story that matches this model. A shepherd watching over 100 sheep leaves the 99 to “go and get” the one who’s lost. How amazing to realize the fervency of his love for each of us.

I love playing “get-chu” with Emerald. It’s interesting, though, that something strange happens just before I nab her. As I’m getting close, she whirls around to face me and then throws herself into my arms. Every time.

Get-chu!Why is this? Is the suspense of being caught so strong she can’t wait? Or is the anticipated hug so appealing she wants it “now?” Or is there a twinge of nervousness in the chase that prompts her to check again that grandma still loves her?

Whatever the reason, I hope if I’m ever running from God that as I sense he’s coming to get me, I’ll turn and run straight into him. Or maybe I’ll do what Emerald sometimes does, initiating a round of “get-chu.” She’ll say, “MeeMee, I’m gonna get-chu!” and then she’ll turn and run away. What she really means is, “You come and get me!”

I believe that’s in the heart of all of us. We want a closeness to God but often don’t know how to get there. “If only he’d come and get me,” we think.

The good news is, if we really want him to, he will.

Jesus said, “Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home.” (Luke 15:4-6)

A Master Craftsman

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Over the weekend in our neighborhood, winter made one last powerful blast. After a day dotted with snow flurries, our thermometers dipped to a very unwelcome 12 degrees overnight.

In the morning, though, it was worth it, because God showed me a cold-weather wonder in an unlikely place. My dog Jack never likes to be without a drink, so when he goes “out to play” on my deck, I leave a bowl of water near the door.

Jack's water-iceAfter our night in the deep-freeze, I knew his water would be frozen and need refreshing, which is when God amazed me. As the round ice slipped from the bowl into the kitchen sink, its bubbles caught the morning sun and flashed like so many diamonds. The only thing to do was stop and study it, acknowledging the extraordinary beauty God had put in this ordinary place.

Some would laugh at me for saying God was responsible for the artwork inside that ice. But freezing and thawing, along with a zillion other natural processes, were first established by him back at creation. And since the laws of nature are all subject to his control, he is, indeed, responsible for what I saw.

As I admired the circular hunk of ice, turning it around in the sun, I decided to investigate whether it’s easy or difficult to put bubbles into ice…. or into its visual equivalent, glass.

Glass blobIf glass-blowers want to insert bubbles or lines into their artwork to make it look like Jack’s water-bowl ice, they have to learn how to handle blobs of gooey, red-hot glass while carefully regulating its rate of cooling. Then they have to add new layers of glass, trapping bubbles between them, hoping they won’t pop. And throughout the process, they must be careful not to let the glass droop or drop. Only seasoned craftsmen can accomplish this.

I have a bubble-infused glass paper weight, and once in a while I study it, amazed by its beauty.

Paper weight..Yet staring into the ice from Jack’s water bowl flooded me with the same sense of wonder as looking at my paperweight. My admiration for the two artists, however, (a glassblower or God himself) is quite different.

A glassblower is probably not equally skilled with wood, metal, stone, oil paint, or any other medium. But God is a master-craftsman in all categories, from atoms to atmospheres.

He can make everything from glittering bubbles to glittering stars.

All of it causes me to appreciate his astonishing abilities, even if some of what he makes is either too tiny or too massive to understand. Just seeing what he can do in a dog’s water bowl is enough to convince me he is an Artisan like no other.

“Worthy are you, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things…” (Revelation 4:11)

Difficult Directions

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All of us drive absent-mindedly once in a while, especially if we’re moving along familiar roads. But when we’re in new territory, we have to depend on the signs to be accurate.

A swiveled signA while ago I was on an unfamiliar 5-lane street during rush hour in heavy traffic when I came upon something strange. At the edge of a strip-mall parking lot, a stop sign seemed out of place and was confusing drivers on the main thoroughfare. Were they supposed to stop? Some were. Others weren’t. And cars leaving the mall parking lot were entering traffic without so much as a pause.

I turned into the lot and found a parking spot, then walked back to the stop sign for a better look. Sure enough, it had been tampered with, swiveled 90 degrees, causing drivers to do the opposite of what they were supposed to do.

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Early this morning, while trying to get my heart ready for Palm Sunday, I thought about the traffic flow into Jerusalem that day 2000 years ago. Of course it was mostly foot-traffic then, though there was one very important donkey with the Son of God sitting on it.

AdulationWhen adoring crowds pushed toward Jesus in a type of Jerusalem rush-hour, there was no impatience or road rage, only joy and adoration. His miracles of healing had shown people he could do things no one else could do, and everyone on the Jerusalem road that day was deferring to him as part of a plan to make him their king.

There were no stop signs, and popular enthusiasm was propelling Jesus in a forward direction. A few days later, however, the “directional signs” had been swiveled around. The zeal to make him king had come to a screeching halt, and the mob of well-wishers had turned on him.

Thankfully one person continued in a forward direction anyway, despite discouraging signs all around him. Jesus resolutely drove himself toward the cross and his own excruciating death while his supporters hightailed it in other directions. But instead of being influenced by the reversal of the traffic flow, he looked only to his Father for a definitive sign of what to do.

Although Jesus had been to Jerusalem many times, he knew this visit would be different than all the others. He dreaded it but continued his forward pace anyway.

Sitting in church this morning, I was flooded with appreciation that even when he could have made a turn, he resolutely kept going straight ahead, all the way to Calvary.

“He steadfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem.” (Luke 9:51)