And Now, You See

At the mall, with Anne & Zachary, all dressed up for “Malloween” (okay, only Z was dressed up in costume), I noticed a man walking with a blind woman. Malloween is Halloween at the Mall. This is a little oxymoronic for me, since I always see people dressed curiously when I am at the mall. Some obviously dress to have people meet them and some dress obviously to make sure that no one ever meets them, ever. Or even talks to them. And then some whose fashion sense is dictated predominantly by the proximity of clothing. “This shirt is hanging above these jeans, so they must go together...” This is me.

Back to the couple of which one was blind. Now, I don't know if “blind”is still PC, or if I should refer to them as visually challenged, but anyway ... this couple struck me. I don't know if they were dating, engaged, married, friends, or siblings. There was nothing to obviously indicate either. If they were from the hills of Georgia, they may have been all of these. But there was something unique in them. Something unfamiliar yet comforting. Like a quilt. I’m not a fan of quilts - I don't dislike them mind you - I just am not a quilt user. But there is something familiar and comfortable about them. When you walk into a persons house, if you see a quilt, they are either old enough to be considered wise, or so young and perhaps pitiful as not to be threatening - so either way it’s comforting.

You see, this couple was walking, one out front and leading, although obviously blind. The other, a half step behind, but guiding, obviously with full vision. The one leading was the woman. She seemed very comfortable, confident really, both in herself and in her guide. The one following, did their guiding both physically, verbally, and even ... ethereally, just by their presence. The fact that the one following was there, that they were approachable - trustworthy may be a better word here - the fact that they were available, this made them approachable and it seemed to communicate much.

But here is what struck me, and bear in mind, all of this took place rather swiftly. All within a few moments, because I was walking with my wife and a 3 year old boy dressed as a turtle while wearing cowboy boots. It struck me that I was watching the picture of discipleship. Someone fully capable, but yet blind at the same time. Able to do so much, but yet missing so much as well, unable to see the hazards and some of the joys of life. But they were being led by someone who was not oppressive, who did not carry them, did not even try to do it all through verbal communication, did not place them in a wheel chair, but did not leave them to the dangers and pitfalls either. This trusted guide did his duty gently, carefully, lovingly. They used every method; speech, physical touch, gentle nudges, a calming hand - all to guide someone who needed it not because they couldn't get through life without it, but because they could get through life easier with it.

Now, this is not to say that those who are visually impaired cannot have a fully enriched life, but that the world as we know it is predominately visually oriented and to be without that would leave one at a disadvantage. But it also leaves them with a much better picture of faith than I will ever had. Not something to be loosed when times are tough and we are willing to dust it off, but something that has to be used all day, every day. This is faith. And the guide is the faithful. The blind wanderer, and the guide. The seeker and the one who knows what it is to have sought.

I realized that to do this, to help the blind, you have to be willing and you have to communicate well. And you have to be trustworthy. And honest. And approachable. And non-judgmental, and non-threatening, and discerning. Kinda like walking with a believer ... whether in a evangelistic relationship, or a discipling relationship. Let’s face it, we are either with people who don’t know Jesus (which puts us as evangelists - bringers of the Truth) or we’re with a believer, which means we should be discipling one another.

Evangelizing and discipling is an art, it’s an attitude of grace. A position of love that we should choose to .. no ... that is a mandate in scripture. It’s a position that’s raw, that’s open and honest. It’s gentle, yet firm. It’s physical, and verbal. It’s leading, and guiding, and even at times, following. And it’s because as Christians, we are “overwhelmed and softened by the love of Jesus” (Dan Kimball) and that softness makes us love man as He did.

So go and lead the blind. Not because they are blind, but because we can see. Go be the sight to someone who does not see. Go help someone with the cracks in the sidewalks and in mankind and do this not because they are blind, but because you were blind. And now, you see.

A Beautiful Rescue

It’s interesting. Well, we’re interesting. Mankind that is. People. This species that is so insanely overwrought with self and others. Utterly driven to projecting our posterior while showing our self-evaluated intelligence to others.

A few weeks ago, we were all captivated about the story of those 33 Chilean miners that spent 69 days trapped, 17 of which without anyone on the surface knowing they were alive, 2,000 feet underground. We watched as one-by-one, they were put into a mobile tube that resembled a water heater more than an elevator, and were hoisted to the surface. At each man’s retrieval, the crowd cheered, people on TV praised, and mankind was bewildered at their predicament, the time spent bringing them home, and then their eventual reuniting with friends, family, and the president of Chile. It was profound, it was poetic, and in many ways, it was absolutely pathetic.

I am not saying that their rescue was pathetic, nor the expense, nor the speed in which they were rescued nor any other detail of their experience. My expression of ... apathy is at us, believers, not towards them.

You see, every day, we are faced with miners. But the miners we meet have not been lost in a hole, doing back breaking, difficult, and dangerous work. The miners we face are here on the surface, alive, well, and living life. They spend their day going to and fro much as we do, not even knowing that they are in a pit; and we show apathy by not talking to them about it. Who am I speaking of? Anyone want to venture a guess? No? Well, take a deep breath and keep reading.

I am speaking of those that do not know the unparalleled grace, the beautiful rescue, the unmatched joy of being rescued by and reunited with the God that created and loves them, far more than can be compared with any earthly, carnal, mortal love we can envision. We celebrate the rescue of the miners, but do we celebrate the rescue of mankind by God? Not just through our relationships and daily life of devotion, discipleship, and evangelism, but through our lives?

I guess my point is this; there are billions of people that need to know about Jesus. Now, it is not up to us to “save” anyone, only to tell the story. Our story. God’s story. We can’t save anyone, but we are carriers of He who can. But have they seen? Have they seen His grace in our lives, His forgiveness, or His redemptive power? Because in many ways, I fear we have forgotten about what God accomplished on the Cross. We know, and appreciate, that we are saved, but do we remember this and allow it to be a catalyst in our lives?

All believers lament the friends and family that don’t know, that won’t accept, that can’t get past their “selves” to see why Jesus came, lived, died and ascended. We must live lives redeemed. Lives that lose sleep over the lost, all of them. That cry at funerals, not just because someone we knew passed on, but because over 100,000 people die on a daily basis, and their introduction to Christ will be through His people, His church (the body, not the building!), us.

Jesus is not going to make the headline news on all stations, for days on end because He died for 33 people. He died for all mankind and He is on our hearts, our lips, and written into the very fabric of who we are and we are His ambassadors, the reporters of what He has done. Let us celebrate the rescue of the 33, but pray for, weep over, and reach out to the several billion who don’t recognize Him as the Son of God. The Savior of all mankind. The true Rescuer of mankind.

I Shot Poomba

OK, I survived the hog hunt. And .... we didn't bring anything home. We actually didn't shoot at a hog until we had left the area and were on the way back to the main road and had already unloaded!

So ... Trent sees a hog (it was a really dark night) on the side of the road while driving about 65mph. He slams on breaks as I am climbing into the back seat for the pistol. He wheels around until he is blocking both lanes with his headlights facing the field the hog is now running into screaming "Shoot it! Shoot it!" I load it, jack it, and squeeze a round off that Trent thinks hit the hog in the booty.

So after being popped in the posterior, the hog turns and runs some more so I shoot again but at this point, he's a god 30 or 40 yards off and we're triple parked across a dark desert highway with cool wind in my hair, with the smell of powder, rising up through the air ... shooting at a black mass and trying to figure out which one of us would have to walk into the CRP to drag the thing back to the truck. Did I mention I was standing on the running board this whole time?

The hog escaped, we did shoot at something, so all in all not a bad night. We saw a turkey, owls, pigs, cows, horses, a raccoon and a coyote. Didn't get chased by anything and never left the stand except once to make water. Oh well.

Echoes

I am watching the movie “Contact” with Jodie Foster. She’s in the movie, not in my living room. We have it on DVD. I am not a sci-fi nut, but I love a good movie that presents a predictable story in an unpredictable fashion. This is a great alien movie that has little if anything to do with aliens. Anyway… the beginning opens with various radio broadcasts floating off into space. An intelligent race hears them and sends a message back. Of course, if that same race listened to a lot of what’s on the radio now, they would change the dial or keep looking for intelligence in some other galaxy and give us a wide berth. Anyway …

What started me thinking was that what if our thoughts, our fears, our innermost demons were represented as these waves of invisibly loosed, untouchable, digital flotsam that we fling out of our souls like the radio waves in the movie? Like shrapnel from an immense explosion, our unspoken tremors, our harbored fears escape our minds when we engage them; they affect the way we watch movies or drive a car, or talk on the phone. Whether we voice them or not, they exist like the uncontrolled filaments of cotton candy that escape the stick at the county fair – they fly out and adopt themselves to whatever happens by.

I ask this because I go through moments, sometimes long moments, of hearing these punishingly unique echoes in my life. In the movie, these waves are heard by this advanced alien race and contact is made – hence the movie title. For me, the contact is not made out there, but it is made in here, in my heart, in my mind. I’ll have a thought, a reflection on myself and realize that it is not new. I’m not talking about day-ja-vu, or anything that pedestrian; I’m talking about the returning echoes of our self. Our thought-life.

Like the movie, my thoughts come back to me, as echoes of was once before, but like the movie, they are different. They are changed, amplified in ways, purified. A God, a Creator so immense that although His ears heard and His heart was impacted, He was not changed for a moment, has heard them. He was neither surprised nor ignorant. He is in fact so lovingly touched, so longingly loving of me that He returns these thoughts; He echoes them back in a way that not only lets me recognize their author, their subject and their genesis, but also their captor. He captures those thoughts, those innermost expressions and He loves me all the more. He holds me when I weep and He laughs when I smile. He is my God and I am exuberantly thankful to be His people.