"O Worship the King"

Last Sunday we sang “O Worship the King”, the refrain six simple words, six words that tell it all, six words I hope I can sing all my days, even if my mind in old age wears down to just be able to say six words. I want to remember these:

OUR MAKER

When I was in the sixth grade, enamored with the colors pink and blue, I painted a picture of a lady in a long, formal dress with a matching parasol. I loved my picture, and when the teacher taped it above the bulletin board along with all the others, every day my eye would go to my own creation. I admired it as much as I would later admire my “Faberge” monarch butterfly, the personality of my paper mache’ giraffe, and my hand-sewn kimono-clad Japanese doll, complete with toothpicks in her hair.

DEFENDER

During college, as a Young Life leader, I was talking to a group of girls at a football game. These were rough basketball players who often got in fights. One of them, whom I didn’t know, was standing above me on the bleachers, talking fast and standing so close that she spat on me, just a little, but enough that I laughed and wiped my face. Her face went stone cold. She summoned a mouthful and spat it out on top of my head. Stunned, I just stood there, the warm spit slowly sinking into my crown. Juana and Tijuana, twins that I picked up every week for club, found something to wipe it off, and then told me they would beat her up. And they would have if I hadn’t begged them not to.

REDEEMER

Jean Valjean, a hardened criminal, is caught red-handed with stolen goods, taken from a gentle priest who had fed and given him a bed for the night. When the police asked the priest if the tableware belonged to him, the priest insisted that he’d given it to Jean Valjean. The priest then gave him two more pieces, his beloved candlesticks, saying that Jean Valjean had “forgotten” them. After the police left, the priest explained, “I have bought your soul for God.”

AND FRIEND

He could have made us, and left it at that. But He didn’t. He defends us because He has redeemed us. And He still could have left it at that. And, as the Jews say at the Seder, “it would have been enough.” But, astoundingly, He doesn’t leave it at that.

“I have called you friends,” Jesus said. Let the words sink in. Stand there. Don’t move. Think about your best friend or the best one you could ever imagine. Think about all that is involved in a friendship; that free delighting in another person, free of obligation or necessity, where all is given, all is taken, all is shared. Just for the joy of it.

Natalie in France

So, yes, I admit it. I'm living vicariously through my daughter. Something parents shouldn't do. Not often, leastwise. Actually, I just loved this picture, and I want to advertise her recent blog posts because, well, I'm proud of her, and also because she's got some good things to say. If you like travel, if you know Natalie, if you want to see how your prayers for her are being answered, go to: Natalie Bernardini

The Shack

Sometimes when I’m walking to work, I do a bad thing. I cut across the grass of a student apartment complex, reasoning that the path is already there, and no doubt always will be. It’s a well-trodden path. Hard as stone. Nothing grows there and even when it rains, the dirt is so hard that the water just rolls off.

That’s what happens when the same path is taken again and again. There’s no avoiding it. It’s true in nature, and it’s true in people. A song that once thrilled us falls flat. We can say something by rote that once took great courage and conviction. We can look upon stunning beauty and yawn. Words that should inspire like truth, love, hope, and joy become meaningless from overuse. We ourselves become dull, inoculated, impervious.

William P. Young understands that. In The Shack, he goes to great lengths to avoid the beaten path in his effort to tell the story of the three-person God and their love for the world. I won’t spoil the story any more than World Magazine did in revealing that his God figure is a hearty black woman who cooks up greens. And instead of, “God so loved the world”, or even, “God loves you, Willie”, we read, “Papa is very fond of you.”

“Fond of you.” It’s quaint. It’s personal. Granted, word for word it’s not as strong a concept as “God loves you”, and no doubt wouldn’t stand up well under theological scrutiny. But because it’s different, because it’s not used very much, it really can say more, especially to those who’ve heard it their entire lives, even preached it. It can penetrate, cut through, make you question if you really, truly understand God’s regard for you.

Since reading The Shack, I’ve found myself thinking, “Maybe He really is quite fond of me.” And not just way up there in Heaven with arms folded waiting for me to get my act together and really do something for Him.

This sentiment goes well with Isaiah 40, “He gathers the lambs in His arm, and holds them close.” And reminds me of the picture I love of John leaning his head against Jesus’ breast. So warm, so alive, so human.

I'm tired of my worn-down soul. I want to be alive to Him, and He to me. I want to leave the dusty bunker of religion and return to the wild meadow with a thousand delights, walking with Him in the cool of the day.