Show Time

You enter a dark movie theater and take a seat. The curtain rises and the screen comes to life. For the next two hours you will watch a motion-picture depiction of reality.

Someone has written a script, but the limitations of the medium have dictated certain things. Let's say the story covers a span of three years; the movie will run 120 minutes. Obviously, much will be omitted from the story. The events will be abbreviated, as will the characters. People will be depicted, but the movie will fail to capture the full, rich complexity of real life. The best characterizations will remain caricatures, compared to reality, and the sequence of events as the movie related them will, of necessity, be distilled to simpler form.

The best of screenplays falls far short of the real story.

Even so, you watch the movie, captivated by spectacular effects, yet scarcely aware of them. You're so engrossed in the production that you're not distracted by the mechanics of simulating reality. If it's a good story, told well, it will touch your emotions and provoke reflection. You will not be quite the same when, finally, the closing credits begin to roll.

Then, as the lights brighten and you step through the exit, you enter what Hollywood has spent millions characterizing and you have just spent two hours escaping: reality.

It will be similar when we exit this life. We will look back on time as a gripping and convincing drama, but it will suddenly feel flat and simplified in the true and eternal light of day.

© 2005

A Place Called Forever

Time is a room in a place called Forever.

We live in that room.

Eternity is outside and all around us. Four walls, a floor and a roof hide Forever from view.

But something has punched a hole in the wall of this room called Time. God has installed a window.

Look through that window. Always look through that window, and let the great outdoors called Forever give perspective to all that happens in these cramped quarters we call Time. Then pause and thank the Builder for flooding your life with light.

* * * * *

Time is a room in a place called Forever.

We live in that room.

But one day, and soon, I suspect, the roof will fly off, the walls will fall, the floor will dissolve beneath our feet. Time will be consumed by the Eternity that has always surrounded it.

What will we do with the sudden brightness and the brisk winds that blow across Forever?

I imagine some will wither under that sun, shrivel up and blow away.

Others will be only warmed and invigorated, as if truly alive for the first time.

© 2005

Is There Any Future in Tomorrow?

On the other side
of tomorrow,

On the far side
of the future,

After the nightmare,

What dream
lies waiting for you

That you can hardly wait
to wake up to?

© 2005

Natal Star

A star rose into the emptiness.

At first it was only a pinpoint in the void of sorrow and pain.

But it grew larger and larger until even the vastness of sorrow could not contain it.

That star is still shining.

It rises on our emptiness, energy pulsing.

And those who are childlike enough to listen can hear a voice in their night sky asking:

"Would you like to be born

again?"

© 2005

Great Joy

As night fell, quiet filled up the valleys and settled over the hills. In the fields, talk died down to a whisper and then silenced altogether. Without city lights to dim the view, stars blazed through the blackness overhead like the suns that they are. Vivid. Close. The campfire, which hours before crackled and sparked, now hissed and smoldered, glowing only faintly. And shepherds dozed.

It was quite a birth announcement that stirred those herdsmen from slumber. Angels lit up the night sky and filled the countryside with their good news: a special baby had entered the world. The King had left the magnificence of his kingdom. The Creator had left the warmth of the womb.

There was good news.
And there was great joy.

© 2005

Quality Product: You

The Poetry of the Beginning

Picture God enjoying a crreative day. A special week. He calls light out of darkness, spreads the vast expanse of space. He uses words to gouge out a place for the seas and molds mounds of mountain, thousands of feet high, out of common dirt and stone. His fertile imagination calls lush vegetation into being. He hangs stars and moons on threads of nothing and sets them spinning in their places. A word, and the seas teem with fish, and out of nowhere birds take to the air. He speaks again and livestock and reptiles spring into being to roam and prowl the earth.

Then, finally, God gets to the good part. The really good part. People. Like me. Like you.

Where did we come from?
From the fingertips of God.

Who are we?
The pinnacle of Creation.

What are we like?
The greatest creature imaginable ... and also the worst.

I picture God enjoying a creative day. A special week. I do not doubt that he found the work of creation exhilarating. But I choose to imagine that when he came to the work of making people, with all their potential, he visualized each individual who ever would be born, descendatns of the first creative day--people like me, like you. And when his mind fell on each of us, I imagine his pulse quickened.

And he smiled and cried and smiled at our potential.

Numbers and Names

It's a crowded place we call home.

Two thousand years ago, during the earthly ministry of Jesus, the planet was not so densely populated. There were 255 square miles per person. Today, there are eight. In 100 years there will be six.

Over the past two millennia, the world's population has increased 30-fold, from 200 million then to more than 6 billion today. Almost 6.5 billion individuals, known intimately by their Creator.

He knows their joys and their fears, their hopes and their hurt, their pride and their shame. He knows their life story--even the swirl of their fingerprints. And each one is deeply loved by their Maker, though millions are born, live and die without ever knowing that their Creator is also the Savior, and wants to be their friend.

So Christ walked the earth with 200 million other people. It took around 1,000 years for the population to double. It doubled again in 200 years. And again in less than 100 years. Forty-five years later, it doubled again. In 1975, Earth's family reached 4 billion. By 1999, the population passed the 6 billion mark. By 2050, we will number more than 10 billion.

The remarkable thing is this: The love of God keeps pace with the population growth.

© 2005

Teaching the Silence to Talk

A man once found a key while walking along the beach at dusk. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. Immediately, he recognized that it had been forged from solid gold and inlaid with precious stones. He imagined it had great significance and value. Even so, he said to himself, it serves no useful purpose. What could it possibly open here, on this deserted beach?

Again he turned the key in his palm, toying with the setting sun as it reflected on the precious stones. Then, noting that the sun was low on the horizon and night was fast approaching, the man pitched the key into the waves and turned to hurry off. What he failed to notice was that before him stood a massive doorway in the darkening sky.

* * * * *

There is another world, a parallel reality, a spiritual realm beyond the reach of our limited physical senses. For most of us, perhaps all of us, there is a critical moment when those spiritual realities are close. A hand stretched out in faith could take the key, treasure it, fit it into the lock, turn the latch, and open the door. A that crisis point of decision or awareness, faith would carry us over the threshold, if only we would allow it.

At this turning point, some look forward into that other realm, and the spiritual reality they see suddenly appears to be all that truly matters in life. Standing at that doorway, they look in and see life for what it can be. How could anything that had gone before hold value now, compared to this? At this same decisive juncture, others, in denial, look away, because they are only capable of seeing life as they imagine that it is or has been. They trust their physical senses alone and so turn away, their backs to all that will someday matter.

I used to think there was this one critical, life-changing moment only, when we either embraced spiritual reality or turned away from it. I now see that all of our moments offer such crucial choice, such perspective-altering potential. Spiritual reality calls me to live every experience, each moment, with the heavens in view. To make every decision in faith, governed by the unseen. To see every chance encounter as a holy moment. To face the mystery of pain, and find somewhere traces of the compassion and purpose of God. To confront the contradictions and incongruities that perplex my limited mind, and humbly trust God's greater wisdom. To create stillness amid the distractions of life and will myself to hear the voice of God.

To do this is to live.

© 2005

Now & Then & Yet

The eyes that close in sleep
will open to the blazing of the dawn.
The small and great from every age
will stand alone in fear.
Whispered secrets,
lifelong shut,
will shout till they are heard;
and all these things that might have been
will shame what has become.

But grace can change our yesterdays,
and transform our tomorrows now,
long before they come.
Grace can change our yesterdays,
and write our story new again.
Grace can change.

The King will stand to welcome you;
his smile will shout, "Well done!"
Your voice will raise your ceaseless praise
like smoke around the throne.
Like smoke around the throne.

The One who gave you sight
will be himself your light,
and he will be your never-fading joy!

Grace can change our yesterdays,
and transform our tomorrows now,
long before they come.
Grace can change our yesterdays,
and write our story new again.
Grace can change.


© 2005

Hellen Keller on Joy

"There is joy in self-forgetfulness, so I try to make the light in others' eyes my sunshine, the music in others' ears my symphony, the smile on others' lips my happiness."

Simply Loved

Sometimes the simplest things are the most profound. For instance, I say the words, "God loves me." What is my emotional reaction? If the phrase has not become so commonplace that I have emptied it of meaning, I feel gratitude. That response deepens as I dwell on the idea.

"GOD loves me." Who is this God? What is his nature?

God is omnipotent -- he has all power. No power is greater. There are so many ways he could use this power. A harsh thought from him could crush me. His breath could incinerate me. His anger could sweep me away. But how does he use his power? He uses his power not to devastate me, but to help me, to lift me, to shield me. This God loves me.

God is omnipresent -- he is everywhere. His presence is inescapable. David celebrated this trait in Psalm 139. There is no destination distant from God and there is no mode of transportation that can outrun him. Jet travel would have been unimaginable to David. Imagine how he would react should he be escorted up the jetway, and buckeled in for flight. How hard it would be for him to understand. How incomprehensible that he could leave Jerusalem and that same day land on, say, the British Isles, a place so distant and foreign he does not know it. Yet David would know God had traveled with him. "If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guild me, your right hand will hold me fast."

The sight of a submarine diving would mesmerize him, but he would not suppose the vessel would dive beyond divine reach.

Death he was family with -- yet death could not separate him from the caring God.

This, of course, is the point. God is present everywhere. I cannot escape him. But his nearness is a comfort, not a fear, because this God loves me.

God is omniscient -- he knows all things. There is nothing unknown to him. More to the point, there is nothing about me unknown to him. No thought crosses my mind without his awareness. No idea ever occurred to me without him seeing it, hearing it, feeling its impact on my thinking.

God is all-knowing, but he does not use this knowledge against me. David is excited and comforted by the reality of it. He applauds the knowledge of the God who understands him so completely. And this all-knowing God loves me.

God loves me.
God LOVES me.

He has grounds to detest me. Divine indifference would be understandable. It would, in fact, be astounding, and would prompt eternal gratitude, if he merely found me tolerable. Better still if he liked me. Instead, his affection for me runs infinitely deeper. "I have loved you with an everlasting love," he says, "therefore, in lovingkindness have I drawn you."

Like the shepherd with one lost sheep, he sets his comfort aside to look for me. Like the woman with the lost coin, he searches diligently for me until I am in his exuberant grasp. Like the father with the wayward, distant son -- the lost son -- he longs for my return, and throws a party when at last I find myself home, back in his arms.

He sacrificed everything to make me his own. Everything.

God loves me.
God loves ME.

Who am I to merit his attention? What in me prompts divine favor?

Look at me. See me as he alone is capable of seeing me. I am unworthy, with thoughts and attitudes alien to the Kingdom of God. And yet, look at me. See me as he alone is capable of seeing me. I am loved, forgiven completely, wrapped in the righteousness of Christ.

God loves me.

So simple an idea.

So profound a thought.

© 2005

The Smile on the Face of God

We each have the power to put a smile on the face of God.
Here's how.

It's truly remarkable to think that God could look at us and be pleased by what he sees. We know our weaknesses; he knows them in infinitely greater detail. How can we please God? We have a hard enough time pleasing ourselves. When he looks at us, what could he possibly see that would put a smile on his face?

We may already know.

Suppose we each complete this phrase: "God would be pleased if I were less ..." Less what? What is there in my life today that should not be there?

Or this: "God would be pleased if I were more ..." More what? What are the good things about me that ought to increase.

When we read Scripture and listen to our conscience, we get a fairly accurate image of what we are, a clear reflection of what we can become. The mirror only fogs over when we are hypocritical, when we tell ourselves how good we are, yet go on hurting others and hurting ourselves.

© 2005

Who Painted the Sky with Flames?

Northern Illinois

Someone set fire to the sky, cast a flaming ball over the horizon and ignited the clouds. I stand transfixed as the flame overspreads the early evening sky, west to east. The glow brightens, the blaze intensifies, the color deepens. It is as spectacular a suset as I've seen.

I know why the sky is blue and the sunset red. It is explained in the physics of light.

Traveling at 186,282 miles per second, it takes eight-and-a-half minutes for the sun's white light to cover the 93 million miles to earth. But what I see as white is actually a blend of the prismatic colors of the spectrum -- red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet -- and those lightwaves are not of equal length. Red lightwaves are long; blue waves are short.

The sun's light strikes the clear air of earth's atmosphere, but the clear air is actually a sea of countless molecules, each molecule only slightly smaller than the wavelengths of visible light. As light enters this sky-sea of molecules, it is scattered, but the long and short lightwaves are scattered unevenly, so that the colors reach me unevenly.

As I look up into the afternoon sky and my eye gathers the scattered light, it is the blue I see most. Later, as the sun moves lower and lower toward the horizon, its lightwaves travel a greater distance through earth's atmosphere. The short lightwaves of blue are scattered in all directions so that fewer reach me, while the longer lightwaves of red and orange and yellow are scattered less. I see them, and they set the sky ablaze, painting clouds with the brush of colored light. If the sky is dusty or smoky, the effect is intensified further, and the sunset is spectacular.

It is spectacular now. Even the cloud wisps in the darker eastern sky glow like pink neon.

Too quickly though, the flash-fire of sunset spends itself, and the day's last dying embers flicker in the purple smoke of twilight.

I knoew why the sky is blue and the sunset red. Does that make it any less the brushstrokes of the Creator?

© 2005

Lyric: "Gifts Come Down"

Joy or sorrow, happiness or loss,
Praise or failure, benevolence or cross;

Pain or pleasure, every gift's received
From our Maker, known or unperceived.

Life brings hardship side by side with good;
God brings order only sometimes understood.

Now we see through a glass darkly,
Tomorrow we will know and we are known.

© 2005

Albert Schweitzer on the unexpected secret to happiness

"I don't know what your destiny will be, but one thing I know. The only ones among you who will be truly happy are those who have sought and found how to serve."

Sometimes It's Hard to Say Thanks

The surgeon lifts his knife, lowers the blade, makes his incision, which is trailed by a red ribbon of blood. Were you not anesthetized, you would most certainly feel the pain. Tissue splits under the scalpel's razor edge. There is nothing natural about this experience. If we knew nothing of it, if we had no trust in the medical procedure, we would be horrified. We walk into a brightly illuminated room. A sinister, masked figure hunches over a body. He is surrounded by accomplices as he bends to the task. You see the blood and realize with horror that he's slicing someone open. What good could possibly come of this?

Yet, knowing what we know, instead of being horrified, we are thankful. Instead of thinking the man a criminal, we find him good. What appears to be a game of death is instead an exercise in health. We know the man's purpose and we trust his skill.

What we observe has not changed, but the perspective has, and that makes all the difference. Is it really surprising, then, that God might be able to bring good out of circumstances that right now appear to be so bad?

© 2005

Give Away the Feeling

How does it feel when someone treats you like a friend? How does it feel when someone is kind to you without expecting anything in return? How does it feel to be loved? Picture that feeling. Then realize: this is a feeling you can give away.

God is invisible. But you can show people exactly what he looks like. All you have to do is love.

© 2005

G.K. Chesterton on Art

"Art is born when the temporary touches the eternal."

We Should Still Be Writing Psalms

There are two books of the Bible which, in one sense at least, should never be complete. One is the Book of Acts, which chronicles the birth of the Church. We keep writing that story of the ever-expanding kingdom of God, a story we write with our lives.

The other book we continue to write is Psalms, which relates our human experience to God, and God to our human experience. This is what makes the Psalms a book of such deeply felt worship, as well as a book we each must write in our own experience, if not also in our words.

© 2005

The Hands of Time, The Arms of God

My watch measures time by the tick. It clicks off seconds, minutes, hours. The date changes in the small window on the watch face. Twenty-four hours, another day gone.

The sun marks time, too. Day and night. Season and year.

I watch the sky. Stars cartwheel through space, the gears of time in perfect sync. The moon changes its face as the months come and go.

Leaves show green, then golden. They fall, leaving naked branches behind to catch and sift the snowfall. The earth warms. Buds form and burst open. Seasons come, seasons go -- birth, life, death, birth, life, death -- measured by all creation.

Dreams also measure the march of time. An idea formed. A desire born. A goal established. A plan executed. A fulfillment. A disappointment. A success. A failure.

Sooner or later the hands of time strangle us, the final measure of a lifespan. But the arms of God enfold us, embrace us, hold us secure in the now that never ends.

© 2005