Love Like You

Happy Mother's Day

There is only one pretty child in the world, and every mother has it.  ~Chinese Proverb


I am thankful to be alive today. In no small way is my mother most responsible for this miricle. Yes she bore me for 9 months and delivered me, fed me, clothed me, spanked me, and believed in me. But what has held me together the most in the roughest parts of my life has been her unfailing love.


Some of you have heard my story of excess, doubt, and despair. As I wallowed away my life in stupidity, depression engulfed me and dragged me to the brink of death. In May of 2005 I decided to kill myself. Life had run its course and I felt no need to perpetuate my suffering any longer. But in the midst of the great darkness, a light broke in, an unexpected guest in my shame. I remembered a simple fact: my mom loved me. And it was this simple but earth-moving reality that saved me, gave me the strength to choose life and to choose love. 


Ever since, that has been my song, that love conquers all, even death. The love of my mom saved me and I thank God not only for her but for the mothers that loved her enough to teach me that song. So I honor her today and in some small way everyday, because each is a gift from God given through her love, each is a precious reminder that there is something good out there even when everything else testifies against it. And the greatest gift to date is the chance to teach my own daughter to sing. God has given me a woman in my wife who exemplifies all the beauty of my mother, and has proven to be the greatest mother I could ever hope for my own child.

Thank you Michala

Thank you Momma,

Thank you Grandma Mary

Thank you Great Grandmother Grace

Thank you God.

The Heavens Declare His Glory, a prayer

Abba,

The heavens declare Your glory.

But what am I?

Do You even think of me?

Why are You mindful of us at all?

And yet You say we matter. I look into the sky and see endless stars, its a joke to even try to count them and I'm reminded in the laughter that they represent your blessings. This sounds nice but even when my life seems so small in comparison with the heavens, my problems and the problems of those I love seem colossal. Why does this distortion of perspective thrive in our hearts?

Maybe, just maybe, it is no distortion. Maybe our fears and pain are as big as creation in Your eyes too. They shouldn't be but I am beginning to believe they are. You have said that Your thoughts and ways are higher than the heavens are from the earth, intrinsically different from all my expectations. And when I pull myself away from the isolated religious speak that says everything will be alright, I find a God big enough to handle my anger. A God so big and yet so intimate. 

Tonight, I have no clue how to pray. I just can't ask for this and that and go on my way, I need to know You care, that You are as close and as strong as You've promised to be. 

Do I dare be noble now?

I remember when all seemed lost not long ago, when every door slammed in my face except for the love I found in the Pierce women, my family. And in their love, their stories, their prayers, their cooking, I found a home and peace. Now life has led me away from that home and I am afraid that I will never again taste the sweetness of those days. And the truth is I never will, that is why it is so special and why it hurts to even consider losing any of it. But maybe You have another door waiting for me, and this time I know it will be more painful but it will lead me home.

So, lead me, lead us home. 

Amen

A Tree Called Home

I’m not sure why everytime I think of home, I feel compelled to describe the Spanish Moss-draped oak trees.  I feel the need to become rather verbose and compare the moss to trapped spirits of the men and women damned to never leave the lowcountry (I could think of worse fates).  But simply put, nothing speaks of the area like the oaks.  These ancient giants with their gnarly knotted elbows meandering to and fro are the epitome of the grandour and history that so defines the lowcountry of South Carolina.  They belong to a rare group of items like the mountains of Colorado and the sea, that no matter how many times you see them they still inspire awe.  As a kid they held a certain mystery for me, that if they could talk, God himself would pull up a seat to listen. Yet they also had a laziness about them.  The oaks have the appearance of the rivers they surround, a fluidty that can be rather mesmerizing.  When they have reached the grandfather stage of life, their limbs will rest on the ground much like a cane.  But most of all, I must speak of them because they are home, as much as mom is even. 

Yet, I have been cut off from that land, somewhat by choice and somewhat by force. And this saddens me because my blood has a brown tint to it thanks to those muddy rivers that these oaks line.  I know worthless tidbits of history about the plantations that inhabited the land before me, but it is not my home anymore and I wonder if it ever truly was.  Even though I was born on the banks of the black river in Georgetown much like my father before me, I always felt a stranger.  My great-granddad wasn’t a rebel and I’d lie straight through my teeth about the fact the my Grandfather was from Pennslyvania.  If anyone ever discovered that fact, I’d quickly remind them my mom was from Arkansas.  Yet I lived in a place where my friends last names matched those of the plantations and even though this heritage wasn’t always flaunted, I was always on the outside looking in.  

Home is a funny place.  The cliché is that it is where the heart is, but that is too vague for my sensibilities.  I need a place to call home and I think that I am not alone in this quest, that one way to describe our exisitence is that it is a search for place, for home.  The religious thing to say is that God or heaven is our homes and that is not far from the truth as I can see it.  When I think of home, I think of mom and our gardens and a tree.  Is it fair to guess that those things stick out because deep in all of us is a longing for a Father, a garden and a tree, a longing for a place that though we may stare into it for eternity it will never cease to inspire awe?  

Be Still- Sermon from Dr. Gore's Sermon Prep Class March 3, 2009

Psalm 46

God is our refuge and strength,

An ever present help in trouble.

There fore we will not fear, though the earth gives way

And the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,

Though its waters roar and foam

And the mountains quake with their surging

Selah

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,

The holy place where the Most High dwells.

God is within her, she will not fall;

God will help her at the break of day.

Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;

He lifts His voice, the earth melts.

The Lord Almighty is with us;

The God of Jacob is our fortress.

Selah

Come and see the works of the Lord,

The desolations he has brought on the earth.

He makes wars cease to the ends of the earth;

He breaks the bow and shatters the spear,

He burns the shields with fire

“Be still, and know that I am God;

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth.”

The Lord Almighty is with us;

The God of Jacob is our fortress;

Selah and Amen         

           February 16 was like any Monday, busy.  I woke up late and skipped quiet-time in favor of finishing my homework for Greek class and studying for our daily vocabulary quiz.  I did well on it and then went to Adolescent Literature after that where I had another quiz.  I was in class till eleven and then I was off to take care of some pressing matters.  After scarfing down my lunch, I rushed over to the Moody room to get fitted for graduation. I then squeezed in a visit to the Administration building to take care of some business matters before my one o’clock.  After that class I had a handful of meetings to address and then I began to work on the next day’s assignments before going home.  On my way home, I snuck into the Maddox to check out the art exhibit, but I did not linger long; I had a lot of work to do.  As I left the Maddox, I attempted to cover the fifty yards between the door and my truck as quickly as possible.  Yet, in the midst of my dash, I felt an inner plea of divine grace, a spark of mercy begging me to look up. So, I obliged and I was stunned at what I saw-God’s glory spelled out in the stars.  How often had I passed-by such awesome exhibitions of God’s grandeur?  In this moment I was reminded that God was indeed with us, that He is huge and the He is beautiful. Something deep within me begged me to stop and stare.  However, I agreed to merely slow down my stride; I had more important things to do. 

            Later that evening, I continued the busyness of the morning.  Yet in the midst of my work load, I encountered something marvelously ironic and hauntingly challenging, a verse from Psalm 46, “Be still and know that I am God.”  Be still. These simple words hit me like a ton of bricks.  I had read this verse of Hebrew Poetry hundreds of times and it had produced similar effects in me as a witty bumper sticker or a Hallmark greeting card might.  And yet, as I read them again for the first time, that same spark of mercy that pleaded for me to enjoy the view of the Milky Way, lit fire within my heart and I knew that these words were just for me, just as they had been for countless other saints and sinners before me.  In the thick of the insanity of life nothing could quench my thirsty soul more than these words.  I needed them like I have ever needed anything.  “Be still and know that I am God.”

Be still.

            This is perhaps the loveliest yet most difficult of all God’s commands.  In it, I hear my Father yearn for me to enjoy Him in the silence, to be a part of the mystery of Easter, to have a relationship the maker of heaven and earth.  Despite these benefits, I find myself like so many within my culture, afraid of the silence.  I’m not sure why exactly but I am; maybe my culture has conditioned me this way.  We find ways to fill our lives with noise and crowds; we buy ipods so that in between things on our to-do list, we don’t have to suffer the condemnation of silence.  We fill every gap in our lives with meaningless chatter: television, cell phones, facebook, texting, twitter, music, and the like.  We constantly bombard our minds with noise.  Our culture has lost the art of silence and consequently has lost the art of the presence of God.  T.S. Elliot notes, “Where shall the world be found, where will the word resound?  Not here, there is not enough silence.”[1]  Maybe this conditioning is why I am afraid of the silence or maybe I am simply afraid that I might actually hear God.  So instead of preparing an inner sanctuary, I fill my schedule with thing after event after meeting after thing.

  I am always telling myself the lie, “I simply don’t have the time to be still.”  Right now, I need to focus on these other commandments: don’t judge, don’t be proud, don’t lust, feed the hungry, be holy, be perfect.  Yet the Merciful Spark will not let me go; in the background of all of this I hear a small still voice saying, “Be still…” and the voice fades into the darkness and my to-do list lengthens until it rivals Santa’s naughty or nice list in length.  There is just too much to do.  I don’t have enough time.  Yet right smack dab in the middle of “Sermon Preparation time” as I have it engraved in the stone that is my schedule, God with a THUNDEROUS WHISPER says-“be still.”  And I am humbly reminded like Elijah that He is not in the fire, He is not in the raging wing, He is not in the earthquake, He is not in the tempest of finals week, He is not in the deadlines, He is not in the burdens of a world that looks on my body of work and demands, “More! Give me more!”  No, He is in the mundane, just underneath the surface, waiting for me cease striving and listen.  Yes, He is in the deep silence of the soul crying out for our thirsty hearts to come to the water’s edge and drink.

Be still.

            This verse is found in the midst of something strange to us, Hebrew poetry.  This poetry is not concerned with rhyme but with structure.  It is full of parallels and chiasms, full of acrostics and musical instructions, full of Selahs.  Hebrew scholars have encountered much difficulty translating this term which litters the Psalms. There is no consensus as to what is meant by this ancient Hebrew term, yet some have believed Selah suggests a pause or break in the poetry; a time to stop and reflect on the glory of Yahweh revealed in the verses.  If you apply that approach, it can offer much color and depth to your reading of the Psalms. We encounter words such as “Who is he, this King of glory?  The Lord Almighty-he is the King of glory. Selah” And as we chew on this audacious statement, awe and wonder begin to immerse us.  He is the King of glory indeed.  However, due to the questions surrounding Selah, some translations and many readers simply skip over or remove this word.  A word which in essence says, “Be still and know that I am God.”  Maybe our culture hasn’t the patience to reflect anymore.  We want our scripture, our God, like we want our food: fast, instant, microwaved.  Just as Hebrew has become foreign to our culture so has reflection and consequently so has awe and wonder.  Yet in a foreign tongue which we can miraculously understand, the Merciful Spark pleads for reflection, pleads the ‘Selah’, and pleads for the ‘be still.’

Be still.

            As a youngster, I would avoid my chores like the plague, even though they were not so difficult. I would rather do anything other than unload the dishwasher.   I can hear my mother say, “Michael, will you unload the dishwasher?”

            “I will Mom.” And I would change the channel.

            “Michael, did you unload the dishwasher yet?”

            “I said ‘I would’ didn’t I, Mom?” And I read another comic book.

            “Michael Alan Gallup, unload the dishwasher right now!”

            “I WILL!” And yet, I often never did and in the miraculous event that I did, I missed the joy of serving one who had given her life for me.  I missed the joy of obedience.  God calls to us, “Be still” and we reply with, “I will.”  And yet we often never do.  When we do find time to be silent it is often spent thinking over what we didn’t get accomplished that day or what we have to do next and we miss out on the joy of listening to the One who gave His life for us.  We miss the joy obedience.  God wants us to do more than to simply follow an order, to do more the merely sit still; He desires that we quiet our entire beings and let Him fill us up.  However, we often see this as a colossal waste of time; our list of duties is just too overwhelming to add another time consuming task such as being still.  Clothes need washing, bills need paying, papers need writing, calls need to making, books need reading, dinner needs cooking and if there is time, perhaps we might read a scripture or two so we don’t feel so bad about ourselves when we lay down at night.  Carl Jung said that “Hurry is not of the devil; it is the devil.[2]”  I read these words and a shocking revelation comes over me, I have become a friend of the devil. My disobedience has produced a lifeless life, one that is rapidly being choked out by busyness, yet in the midst of that stranglehold of darkness, light breaks in and the Spark of Mercy demands for me to be still.

And I am shown that this is not just another part of my schedule but it is something that penetrates deeply into the cracks of my life.  I stop filling in the moments with noise and distraction and I begin filling them with God. 

Be still.

            I cannot express my gratitude that for that Monday night.  God reached into the hurry of my life and reminded me He is in fact still there.  I was reminded that the Word of God is indeed alive.  I was reminded that apart from Him I can do no good thing.  I was reminded the blessedness of silence and reflection.  I was reminded of the joy of obedience.  I was graciously reminded just how desperately I needed to be still.  There is a laundry list of reasons why we should be still: guidance, motivation, comfort, correction, creativity, insight, hope, joy, peace, and the like. However none of these reasons fully addresses why I should be still. Perhaps the easy answer to the question is that God says so.  Yet, easy answers to deep questions are an affront to the merciful spark that calls us to stillness, to ponder the deep mysteries of God.  I find that each time I seek stillness there was something unique and wonderful waiting for me.  Sometimes I need to crawl into Abba’s lap and just know that He is there.  Sometimes I need to hear the echo of Calvary as Jesus proclaims that I am the one He loves.  Other times, I need to wrestle with the heart-wrenching question of why and hear silence instead of an answer.  And sometimes I just need to know that I am still His, despite myself.  But I do not know what your reason is.  I only know, no I only believe, that it is right.  That deep within us all, there is that merciful spark begging us to stop and listen, to stop striving and to be still.  I pray each of you discover the divine silence of God.  I pray that in the midst of the world falling apart all around us, that we would find the cosmic importance of this simple command.  I pray that a spark of mercy would awaken you to the living words of the Almighty, “Be still and know that I am God.”

---

[1] As quoted in Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline. (San Francisco: Harper, 1978), 96.

[2] Ibid., 15.

Advent Reflections - Part 3

Each week of the Advent season a different aspect of our anticipation of the coming Lord is emphasized. This week's focus is upon Joy. While many of us would be quick to list joy as a major Christian attribute, less of us understand it or even worse have ever truly experienced it. For some of us, we even wonder if there is anything to be joyous about at all. So what is this whole joy thing about anyway?

When I think of how joy and waiting mingle, especially during this season, I think of Christmas Eve when I was a little kid. I could NEVER go to sleep. As hard as I tried, sleep seemed to always allude me those nights, but it really didn't matter; I was just so anxious about what the dawn (and Santa) would bring. While presents were high on my list, the whole experience excited me. The glow of the tree in the low light of early morning, everyone in their underwear and jammies, hair all a mess, a delicious breakfast of biscuits and gravy made by my favorite chef (mom!), the huge pile of waste accumulated by the end of the unwrapping session, rummaging through what seemed like a bottomless stocking, seeing the rest of my family open the gifts I had picked out, and the afternoon trip to Grandma's for even more fun. It was the highlight of my year and sleep simply could not compare. I knew that just around the corner was a day unlike any other, a day of peace, excitement, and joy.

Yet, I grew up. I have lost much of that sense of wonder from my youth. I now know better about jolly old Saint Nick and mom is a thousand miles away. I will probably sleep quite soundly on December 24th. Often my only real hope for the holiday season is that I might actually enjoy it. Is this what we call maturity? Dear Lord, I hope not. I believe we could all learn quite a bit from our younger selves. They would tell us to play some more, to imagine, and to laugh. They would tell us to let go of our pride and shame and run into our daddy's arms when things hurt. Oh to have the faith of a child, Lord have mercy on me.

We need these lessons from of former selves because our present selves have incurred the burden of what we call "the real world." There are bills to pay, things to clean, papers to be written, calls to make, and we alone are responsible. We have awoken to the reality that life is hard. And in this midst of what used to a joyous season, we've heaped more burdens upon our shoulders: debt, stress, plans, worries, and strife. We fill the mall parking lots hoping to fill our hearts, only to find we've been lied to. We strive and strive looking for "something," waiting for "someday" that will set us free, that will awaken that sleepless child from Christmas eve. Yet the more stuff we amass and the more things we do, we still can not find it. A wise man once said "I considered all that my hands had done and the toil I had expended in doing it, and behold, all was vanity and a striving after wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun."

Where are the glad tidings of joy? What will set us free from this body of decay? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!

A new favorite song of mine is called "Embracing Accusations" by Shane and Shane (take a few minutes to listen to it then come back; just click the play button at the top of the right column). In this song, the singer is being attacked by the accusations of the devil : that we are cursed and that there is nothing we can do to save ourselves. The singer then realizes that "the father of lies is telling the truth, that he is singing the song of the redeemed" We are indeed cursed and nothing can save us form this body of death. Yet the singer reminds us that the devil is so eloquent at singing the first verse of the song, but he has forgotten the refrain: Jesus Saves!

I, like my younger self am often in sleepless state but for altogether different reasons. I find rest hard to come by in a world like the one I know. So I wait. Not idly, but actively. I hope, not fleetingly but confidently. Just as Jesus came at just the right time, He shall come again. Lord knows that there is a day, right around the corner, that will change everything, a day of peace, a day of excitement, a day of Joy indeed! The following Scripture from Romans 8 fully embodies this Advent idea of joy in waiting.

"This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike "What's next, Papa?" God's Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children. And we know we are going to get what's coming to us—an unbelievable inheritance! We go through exactly what Christ goes through. If we go through the hard times with him, then we're certainly going to go through the good times with him.

That's why I don't think there's any comparison between the present hard times and the coming good times. The created world itself can hardly wait for what's coming next. Everything in creation is being more or less held back. God reins it in until both creation and all the creatures are ready and can be released at the same moment into the glorious times ahead. Meanwhile, the joyful anticipation deepens." (Romans 8:15-21 MSG)

The Apostle Paul knew what was right around the corner and he knew that in the waiting was joy. That deep down inside each of us (and even all of creation) there is an intense longing for "someday." In Christ, we can know that that "someday" is coming, that He is coming. And we can join all creation in singing the joyous victory song, "Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty we are free at last!"