Boulders and Rubble

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

There are rocks in the path ahead. Boulders and rubble. Literally, and yes, even more so, "figuratively." Lots going on today that we cannot get around, shove aside, ignore-and-it-will-go-away. Immovable objects and objectives, imbued with a dreadful lack of objectivity. Harsh, abrasive surfaces, adamantine interiors, often with a deep gash as ugly as sin.

Dark presence that blocks the light, a heaviness that dooms.

Jesus said, "Upon this rock I will build my church...."  But this is not the Rock of Our Foundation we're talking about. There are many worthy Rock Churches across our land, with steeples and pews and ardent worshipers. They know what I mean. Theirs is the "spiritual" Rock that Peter represented—the BedRock of faith we stand upon beyond the shifting sand.

No, the rocks I'm facing are implacable impediments embedded in the psyche of humanity. Rough, gnarly rock. A shapeless boulder that stands in our way—a formidable barrier, a deadly weapon even. This becomes church? Those dark schisms between them that has and them that wants? Or a gathering-up of the chunks of scorn that almost scarred the infamous woman of ill repute, that wretched soul who stood before Jesus? Or the hail of stones that robbed the disciple Steven of his very life? These are missiles from that quarry from which humanity has ever gathered lethal  weaponry. All shapes and sizes, formed of that magma of mankind's dark and dangerous hates and lusts. Rocks and boulders that burst or burrow from the caverns of hell. These, the blasphemies that settle deeper with the broken soul's every shudder.

And into this "mine field," this death trap of varied persuasions and aversions and perversions, comes the Son of God, in sandals. The One Who spoke the violence of wind and waves down to a whimper and a ripple. HE knows what each rock is, what seeded the silica and soil and sealed the ancient strata of violence and vengeance and vanities.

He is His Father's Son; He can speak to the rock. All the ages sealed within will hear. He can strike the rock. And bring forth Water.

We can only whisper the word, the fear, the dread, and point. He will follow our finger.  This too is the beginning of Church. Selah. 

Proclaiming the Unknown God

Photo by Judith's daughter on a trip to Athens

On one of his never-easy missionary journeys, Paul was left in Athens, waiting for his companions. He was not prone to "wait" placidly. Athens was a hub city, a volatile mix of the fortunes and misfortunes of humanity. A hub, also, of gossip. And Paul could be expected to comment on his perception of the spiritual pot luck—the "wealth" of gods available for the pickin,' and well-displayed at the Areopagus on Mars Hill. In the midst of the panoply, he noted an empty altar with a stark "non-identity": TO AN UNKNOWN GOD. Here was his opportunity to Name that unnamed God. And he did, to decidedly mixed reactions!

In this world despoiled by violence and hatred, wrenching poverty, shallowness, and rampant greed, we come face to face with this Unknown God—Whom we have come to know, and Whom we have chosen to serve: The eternal I AM …through Jesus, the Christ.

How do we faithfully serve a Savior whom we cannot “see,” who is hidden from the eyes of the world—this Eternal Being who straddles the universe even as He binds up our battered hearts?

How do we proclaim Him to a world “gone insane” with its various fratricides? It begins best with prayer. Always, with prayer, before we even open our mouths. Do we even know how to pray for (truly, against) such an unending tsunami of grief and horror as we see beyond and around us?

Like the disciples who gathered around Him, we can only say, “Lord, teach us….”

The Lord’s Prayer, the "Our Father..." is a good starting point. It is fairly radical. It leaves our own small perceptions and anticipations (or lack of them) behind and steps up to a new concept—a new conception, perhaps. It joins us with Him in seeing what we cannot fathom down here in the trenches. After all, HE prayed it to us, for us, from where He “stood!”

I call it, for lack of a better term, a Genesis Prayer. Prayer that creates “something out of nothing,” that separates Light from darkness, that can only begin where He begins (not in our own “mind-set”), and end where He “comes down.” Whether we’re praying for a person or a nation, a disaster or a blessing, we can only see the “tip of the iceberg” unless/until we have invaded the Kingdom for a larger vision. What we see, of course, has less to do with our spiritual giftedness than His yearning to bring us alongside to help Him do the heavy lifting. The yoke is fully weighted upon Him and rests lightly across our soul. We only have to listen.

When we pray this way, against the currents, so to speak, we are often on uncharted ground. But it is firm beneath us. We have only to follow the Spirit’s leading. Praying with Him, stumbling, perhaps, into prayer unformed before the very saying of it, our words teaching us, thought by thought, we learn as we go. We witness this only inwardly, at first, savoring the wonder of new comprehension. But soon or late, it begins to seep out through our spirit’s pores—like an invisible language—and becomes now an articulation, a quiet testimony to a Savior who reigns in the depths of chaos and the heights of Heaven. Our confidence lies in His “confiding in us.” We speak from this new understanding, and sometimes we speak words that whisper “Genesis!”

Like the words of Paul, who knew exactly what God had to say when he stood before those blank Athenian faces. From the unknown god to the suddenly knowable One, the I AM revealed. Out of darkness, Light.