I'll Never Be More Loved

“I'll never be more loved than I am right now
Wasn't holding You up
So there's nothing I can do to let You down
It doesn't take a trophy to make You proud
I'll never be more loved than I am right now”

These are lyrics from a song called “Jireh.” Over the last couple of months, I hear this song on the radio at least twice a day. Whatever I’m doing it can bring me to a pause and I soak in the reality that “I’ll never be more loved than I am right now.” It’s so powerful and like a cool glass of water, my whole being is refreshed. And, like water, I need this over and over, both the reminder that I’m God’s beloved, and the refreshment it brings.

Many years ago, I had a thought while I was spending time with God in prayer. In my imagination, I was dead and with God in heaven, and there I realized that if I had any clue just how much God loved me while I was alive, that I would have lived differently. It made me sad and I asked God to PLEASE help me to know in my core now how much He loves me.

God in an Apron

I was listening in on my father’s Sunday school class this spring and was caught short by this verse from Luke 12: “How fortunate those servants will be when the master knocks and they open the door immediately! You know what the master will do? He’ll put on an apron, sit them down at the kitchen table, and he’ll serve them a midnight snack.” I’m used to Master/Servant stories in the Bible. Most of them end with “Well done” or “You’re out.” This one pauses with the Master putting an apron around his waist and serving a midnight snack. It rather breaks all the norms.

Life from Fire

The image of eight years ago is still etched in my mind. The vivid mental picture is a large, Yellowstone National Park meadow with a trail meandering through the center of the meadow. It was on that trail that I was walking nearly eight years ago. There was tall prairie grass waving in the wind while spotted throughout the meadow were the charred remains of the jack pines, a reminder of the devastation of past wildfires. Wildfires destroyed thirty-six percent of the park in 1988 and yet, as I walked through the meadow there was beauty, the beauty of new growth, wildflowers in full bloom and new trees reaching out toward the sun. It was there that the Lord spoke to me with the words, “Out of the dust of ashes and death comes new life.” Words much needed, for you see, only weeks before, my wife of forty years had died of cancer.

Wandering in Sacred Space

“Your feet will bring you to where your heart is.” (Irish Proverb)

I love to wander, whether it’s along the city streets on a rainy day, or out in the mountains along a dirt path, there is something sacred about wandering without a goal. It allows me to engage with the “this” place, rather than focusing on the destination. It draws my attention to each step along the path, to the process rather than the result. It draws my attention to God’s presence in the stones under my feet, the trees offering me shade, or the person crossing the street with a scowl on their face.

A Season of Letting Go

In Matthew chapter 10, Jesus is preparing his disciples for ministry amongst their fellow Israelites. A new message is being given. The old has passed away and the new has come, the new being profoundly known in Jesus’ ministry. The Kingdom of Heaven has begun in the life and death of Christ. The words in Matthew’s gospel are confounding. Jesus says, ‘Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth, I have not come to bring peace, but a sword’ (Matt. 10:34).

Jesus goes on to explain that within family circles there will be division about who God is. There will be misunderstanding and a desire to be right. How can this be? There are more questions than answers in this passage for me, but I am aware of a sense of the radical nature of what Christ came to do. It required a radical alignment with Him in order that the world would be saved. Is this not what we are living right now? And it is what it means to “let go” of one’s own preferences in order to align with love.

Queen of Hearts

Several years ago we took our girls to Disneyland for the first time. That afternoon, while riding the Alice in Wonderland ride, we were winding our way through the garden and passed playing cards that were frantically painting white roses red. Around the next turn, we encountered the Queen of Hearts and it made sense why they were doing so. They had been anticipating the fury of the Queen, who was sure to hand down the judgement “off with their heads” when she discovered things not as she demanded them to be.

Where is your God?

Psalm 42:2-3, 11

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God?

My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me all day long,

"Where is your God?"

Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?

Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior, and my God.

Scrambled Eggs Divina

My Aunt Jennie has never been much for Christianity. The only time I’d seen her inside a church was at my father’s memorial service. The next day we went to the cemetery to place his ashes in the wall, and when it was her turn she said a few words to Buddha. Up until a few weeks ago that’s about as spiritual as it got.

Over the past decade we’ve gone on with our lives. The phone calls have been a little more infrequent. Last Christmas I told auntie that our son, whom she doted on at birth as “Baby Ryan,” was turning 24 years old. “You’ve got to be kidding! Let me get a pen and write his name down. How do you spell it?”

Dancing Light

My whole life, I have been fascinated by the Northern Lights. These amazing streaks of light dance through the night sky, as if making the point that light is an active presence, ready to peek into the darkest corners. I’ve been in a few places where Northern Lights are common – in Alaska and Norway in particular – but always at the wrong time of year. Even the Seattle area recently we had a night when they were expected to make an appearance. I woke in the middle of the night, and went outside to seek them, but the lights reflected in the sky were simply the lights of the city and not the glowing greens and blues that we recognize as those iconic polar phenomena.

Got Enough Oil?

As I’ve been practicing Centering Prayer lately, one of the thoughts that keeps surfacing is, “I feel like one of the 10 virgins sitting and waiting on the bridegroom.” Then I say my sacred word to release that thought, reaffirming my consent to God’s presence and action, and continue to sit.

I haven’t thought about that parable in a long time; it’s a parable I’ve had to hold openly because of my many questions about it. I’ve always found it interesting that when asked to share their oil, the wise virgins said “no, there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.”

No? Not enough? Go buy your own oil? What about sharing and giving to those in need? Why couldn’t those without the oil just walk along beside those who had it; wouldn’t the lamp provide enough light for both to walk?