Laced With Grace

Summer has officially landed at our house. School is out and the children have abandoned a reasonable night time schedule; the temperatures have been sizzling in the 90s; the fireflies are out in all of their glory. But something even more telling has hurdled us headlong into fun in the sun: the arrival of the dreaded ice cream truck.

This predatory creature always seems to know just when dinner time is. It summons children like the pied piper. Doors are recklessly flung ajar as soda pop music is piped into the air, cajoling them into a trancelike state. The children with less astute hearing are soon enlightened by their friends, and it doesn’t take long for the streets to come alive with young voices.

Last night as I sat on the porch with my youngest, he began to plead his case for a tasty frozen treat. I reminded him that we have a whole box of perfectly good popsicles in our freezer. They’re just not packaged as nicely. They’re not wrapped up in his favorite cartoon character, and they certainly don’t come with a song.

Then, my ears pricked up. What was that? It sounded like the carousal music from a fair long past. My heart skipped a beat. I wanted to run down the street in pursuit of that joy on wheels. Instead, I gave my boy five dollars and contented myself to live through him in the next moments.

As I watched the doors flapping and the legs flying, I was caught up in the excitement of it all. In the midst of the fun, a thought occurred to me: Maybe we sometimes don’t put Jesus in the right packaging. We wrap Him up in Sunday mornings and hymns that are hundreds of years old; in pious looks and judgmental glares; or legalism and rituals that mean nothing to those who have never been to church. Where is the fun in that?

We should be living, breathing ice cream trucks for Jesus, but sometimes, we’re more like the mail truck. We deliver the message with little excitement. No song. No treat. Plain old box.

Anyone who really knows Jesus knows the joy there is in knowing Him. Yet, we greedily hoard away this delight, concealing it from the very ones who need to see. Philippians 4:4-5 tells us, Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.

Our lives should reflect the joy of the Lord. As we run after him, we should be summoning our friends, calling joyfully to them to follow. When they see our happiness, they will surely check this thing out. When they hear the music of our hearts, their hearts will begin to beat in time.

Oh, if only it were so simple! But remaining joyful from day to day is no easy task. Even my eight-year-old would grow bored with the ice cream truck if it came every day. We get caught up and bogged down. We grow tired. We get discouraged.

But the great thing about Jesus is that He doesn’t come around only when it’s convenient. He doesn’t just go down the streets with the most customers. He’s everywhere. He is every flavor. He is the song. He is the joy.

So, go ahead. Chase the truck. Rejoice in the Lord. He’s better than a double-scoop, chocolate dipped, sprinkle-covered cone.
He’s better than dessert. Let’s run after Him.

photo by whimsylove, Flickr Creative Commons

Laundry

I love it when I find a pine cone in the bottom of my washing machine.  Often times, there are also small round stones, or bottle caps, even bird feathers.  These are the treasures that my boys come across on their daily adventures.  The hand that plucked up these objects knew the pleasure of rubbing a small thumb across cool smoothness, and the wonder of smelling the earth embedded in layers of rough bark.  This joy, however, must be in the discovery, as these gems are soon forgotten in the bottom of pockets.  It is from here that they enter the world of my wash, never again to be seen by the eyes that discovered them.

I also tend to collect things.  I tuck my finds away in the pockets of my heart. Occasionally, I take them out, mull them over, and then file them safely away in the storehouses of my mind.  Unfortunately for me, the things that I cling to are not usually ones of beauty.  A cross word, an ugly look, a past mistake…these things are not always easy for me to let go.  If only I could release them as easily as my children set their trinkets free.  If only there was a washing machine for the contents of the heart!

When my mind settles in on these less than desirable preoccupations, I am reminded of what Paul tells us in Philippians 4:8:  “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

I don’t know about you, but I find myself more often dwelling on the ugly stuff than “whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely…” Paul makes it sound so easy, but focusing on the beautiful in life usually takes a deliberate effort, for me anyway.

Watching my sons on their escapades has helped me tremendously in this endeavor.  In their exploration, they are always alert, always vigilant.  They expect to find a treasure. They know it is there. If only they look hard enough they will find it.

When was the last time I searched so boldly for beauty in this world?

Every morning when I wake up, I have a choice to make.  I can choose to be offended by unkind words and careless actions of others.  Or I can choose to see through eyes of love, knowing that inside of the offender lies beauty, because God made it so.  I can expect to find a treasure.  I can know that it is there.  If only I look hard enough, I will find it.  Just as my sons chose to pick up the pinecone, I too can choose to see the beauty in what lies around me.

I have prayed for the eyes of a child.  Some days are easier than others.  I don’t always make the right choice.  But usually, all I have to do is wash a load of laundry to be reminded that I need an attitude adjustment.

And there’s always laundry.

photo, Laundry by NateKay, Flickr Creative Commons

“The eye is the lamp of the body.  If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light.  But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness.  If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!”— Matthew 6:22-23 (NIV)

He was drawing a picture of a sunlit forest.  He drew a brown trunk.  Then a green lollypop top. When he drew a black circle in the middle of the trunk with the word “hoot” inside, I had to turn away to hide my smile.

The art teacher stood behind my six-year-old son with eyebrows raised, amusement thinly veiled.

He likes to draw, she said to me, with a smile.

What happened next was pure beauty.  She knelt down beside him and gently redirected his attention to what he had drawn. She showed him how the trees deeper in the forest looked higher up on the page, how to add horizon to ground them with the others.  She showed him how the leafy foliage overlapped to create a beautiful umbrella and how to use light and shadow to create individual leaves.

Do you see this trunk?  There is brown in it, but look closer.  What other colors do you see? There’s not only brown, is there?

She moved around the table, making similar points for other students.  Each time she directed attention to the image being copied.  Look, she said, or See.

She was not teaching how to draw.  She was teaching how to see.

As I watched my son’s teacher, I felt my own vision change. When I looked at the paper the way she instructed, my eyes were opened. I noticed details I had never seen before…beauty took on new meaning.

As I pondered this transformation, my thoughts turned to The Great Teacher.  Like my son’s instructor, Jesus taught His listeners to see in a new way.  His ministry crossed all social barriers and shattered cultural norms. He challenged the practices of the religious leaders of his time.  What’s more, by teaching in parables rather than the language of the law, He challenged people to see the world differently.  He engaged their imagination, their creative mind, that part of them separate from logic and pretense.

Jesus taught to look deeper to see what others could not see.

This is where He takes us even today, the place where the unseen becomes seen.  He understands our need to hear and see with our hearts.

I don’t know about you, but I want to see like Jesus sees. I want my eyes to be good—my whole body to be filled with light. I’m signing up for that class. I’m under the tutelage of the Great Teacher. How about you?

My Lord, my heart is full.  I hear your stories and they make me want to change my vision.  Open my eyes that I might see as you see.  Help me to love as you love.  Fill me with your light.  In Jesus’ name, Amen.