I am Mother

My friend, Brian Pappalardo works for the Voice Project. Watch.

I Am Mother from The Voice Project on Vimeo.

Relationships are Sacred

One of the buzz words populating the ears of today's church is "relationships" and its various derivatives. My own church reminds us each week that "relationships are sacred." And this is a good thing. We see throughout scriptures and our experiences that we (people) were created for community.

In the initial creation account in Genesis, God realizes that while His creation is very good, one thing is not, man is alone. In the final close of the scriptures we see the fulfillment of God's new creation: every tribe, nation, and tongue gathered together. Relationships are so sacred that the very nature of God is relational in the form of the Trinity and in His personal presence with us. Relationships are indeed sacred and good.

However, the modern church suffers from the same ailment most in out current culture does, a lack of connection. In some ways we are more connected than ever before, via email, facebook, smart phones, and on; allowing access to the whole world at our very fingertips. While technology does allow unique opportunities to connect, they pale in comparison to face-to-face relationships.

Yet even when we encounter each other face-to-face we are often more interested in (or distracted by) the person far away via our handheld device of choice. I no longer marvel at people gathered together yet all on their phones as opposed to connected to one another. The consequences of our technology are only symptoms of our totally disconnected culture. We have moved from the front porch to the back and the church has followed suite.

It is a shame that our fellowship often only entails a hand-shake during the appointed times on Sunday morning. And it is out of this shame and rekindled theology that the buzz has grown concerning relationships. The problem is that despite this renewed attention, we are still failing to really connect with one another. There are various causes behind all this, most prominently is that we are all too busy.

I remember living in Arkansas a few years back. I would go visit my grandmother Mary nearly every Saturday morning and every time I never failed to laugh and cry. Those were some of the most genuine moments I have ever shared with another human being. Those time changed me, helped to be alive again after such a long time of not being so. Yet life began to happen and eventually every Saturday turned into every once and awhile. One time, while apologizing for not being around, Grandma said, "well you're busy." Although meant with all the tenderness in the world, few words have stung me more in my life. If I'm too busy for Grandma, I'm busy with all the wrong things. And I think when we say we're too busy, we're revealing our loyalties, that we would rather feed our own needs than offer the sacrifice of quality time.

Yet despite the biblical bookends and God's triune nature, why should we make the effort?

This thing we call Christianity is so much bigger than ourselves. It is more than just a story of how Jesus saves us, it is a cosmic story of the redemption of the entire universe both seen and unseen. And somehow this new creation is being brought into this world through only one source: the church.

Everything, our lives, the earth, our relationships have been subjected to the rule of death and decay. But in the work and person of Jesus Christ, all things are being made new, not least of which is our relationships. We are being reconciled to our former enemy God through the unfailing love of Jesus and that same act of love is breaking down the walls of disconnect no matter how large they may be right now.

Too busy to get together? We are too busy not to get together. Because our relationships are not the stuff of TV sitcoms but a force so powerful angels long to look upon them. These are not shake-your-hand moments but giving our very lives away moments. And it is precisely Jesus' prayer, before his death that will set the whole world on its head, that we should be "one." And it is through that oneness, perhaps only through that oneness, that world will be changed.

Our relationships far transcend a bible study where we acquire more knowledge to ignore, but an opportunity, privilege even, to truly live, embracing the fullness of our humanity in the giving of our very lives. It is of course in the dying that we live. And it is of course in the dying of our self-centeredness that we may live, that the church may live, that the entire world may live again.

I dare not speak these words as one who has authority. I dream of right relationships but only from a distance. There are still strong walls built around me, around each of us, that only the power of the Gospel of the Jesus himself can tear-down. But that is the very beauty of the gospel, it will accomplish its purposes and these walls will come tumbling down and we will find ourselves at Grandma's on Saturday, changing the world through our laughter and tears.

Reconciliation in Rwanda

Watch the full episode. See more Religion & Ethics NewsWeekly.

In April of 1994, The world turned its head away as Rwandans killed each other at a rate of 10,000 per day. The wounds of that terrible genocide run deep, far deeper than few of us in the West can ever begin to imagine. And yet something miraculous is happening in Rwanda: Forgiveness and reconciliation. Please take a few minutes and watch the video above of the amazing story of healing that is taking place in Rwanda.

The Canticle of the Creatures

The Canticle of the Creatures
by St. Francis of Assisi


Most High, all-powerful, good Lord, 
Yours are the praises, the glory, and the honor, and all blessing,
To you alone, Most High, do they belong,
and no human is worthy to mention your name. 


Praised be to you, my Lord, with all your creatures, 
especially Sir Brother Sun, 
Who is the day and through whom you give us light. 
And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendor; 
and bears a likeness of you, Most High One. 


Praised be you, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars,
in heaven you formed them clear and precious and beautiful. 


Praised be you, my Lord, through Brother Wind, 
and through the air, cloudy and serene, and every kind of weather, 
through whom you give sustenance to your creatures. 


Praised be you, my Lord, through Sister Water, 
who is very useful and humble and precious and chaste. 


Praised be you, my Lord , through Brother Fire, 
through whom you light the night, 
and he is beautiful and playful and robust and strong. 


Praised be you, my Lord, through our Sister Mother earth,
who sustains and governs us, 
and produces various fruit with colored flowers and herbs.


Praised be you, my Lord,
through those who give pardon for your love, 
and bear infirmity and tribulation. 


Blessed are those who endure in peace
for by you, Most High, they shall be crowned.


Praised be you, my Lord, through our Sister Bodily Death,
from whom no one living can escape. 
Woe to those who die in mortal sin. 
Blessed are those whom death will find in your most holy will,
for the second death shall do them no harm.

Praise and bless my Lord and give Him thanks
and serve Him with Great Humility

Love Your Enemies?

The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate. So it goes. Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that. - Martin Luther King, Jr.

Never pay back evil for evil to anyone. Respect what is right in the sight of all men. If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all men. Never take your own revenge, beloved, but leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written, "Vengeance is Mine, I will repay," says the Lord. "But if your enemy is hungry, feed him, and if he is thirsty, give him a drink; for in so doing you will heap burning coals on his head." Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. - Romans 12:17-21

I have intentionally remained silent on the news of Osama bin Laden's death. I think regardless of one's religion we each of us have a great sense of and desire for justice. This man's choices and influence led not only to the deaths of the victems of 9/11 but also to innumerable child suicde-bombers and various other muslims across the world, all in the name of God. So when I heard the news of his death, I could not help but be thankful. In a world with some many wounds, perhaps this man's demise might mean a few less. But in the midst of witnessing countless celebrations and online responses such as 'burn in hell Osama" I felt that same sense of justice flare up. 

I cannot escape the teachings of Jesus in his sermon on the mount, that our love MUST extend to even our enemies, the very ones who wish us dead. Some may consider this as idealism, but in a sense all of Jesus' teachings are idealistic but also deeply rooted in life and in truth. These are not just provocative words but the essence of how Jesus lived his own life. In the face of occupying non-believers who unfairly taxed, enslaved, and even killed his people, Jesus came not as the liberating king the Jews desired him to be. Instead he laid down his power and took all the world's punishment to the point of death and beyond, all the while praying for the ones mocking him. And the funny thing is that it worked, he not only liberated his people but all of us. In his act of nonviolence, of submitting to death, he won us all life. This act which to all, even his closet friends, seemed ludicrous has endured two thousand years and changed the lives of all humanity. Throughout this history others have taken to heart what Jesus said and did, people like Martin Luther King Jr. and Gandhi. Both tasted the same martyr death and both also tasted the fruits of their love: reconciliation and freedom. 

Some would say that we cannot be doormats or pushovers and this is true. All of these men, especially Jesus, were strong men who made strong stand and in the doing they overcame evil with good. Someone has to break the cycle of violence; the idea that killing bin Laden and making him a martyr for his radical followers is going to save lives is hard to prove at best and completely erroneous at worst. The response will be vengeance and we will seek to retaliate and the cycle of violence will progress. We only have to look at the middle east to learn the lesson of this deadly cycle, there is only "peace" when one side is stronger than the other, able to keep uprisings at bay. Hatred permeates the religious and ethnic struggles. All sides feel their cause just and even of God and that certitude leads further and further from any form of reconciliation or peace. Someone has to say, "enough already" and begin to love their neighbor even if costs them their own life, only then can the cycle be broken, only in sacrifice can we buy our freedom.

Jesus was that someone and he has dared to ask us to join him in the loving and leave the judging and vengeance to the only one capable of doing so. And maybe just maybe, in the process we might just change the world. 

I wonder what you think. Am I being naive? Does my faith blind me or enlighten my perspective on this? What about your faith? How has this incident effected your sense of compassion and/or justice?  

That We Might Be One

My friend, pastor, and mentor Eugene Scott recently wrote a blog about the power of intimacy and the danger of isolation (you can read it here). In his work Eugene describes the desperate need we have for each other. I feel this most acutely now that a women who I have cherished my entire life struggles to relearn how to eat a cookie. My aunt Betty suffered a stroke recently and the consequences of that stroke have been difficult to learn of. While I am hundreds of miles from Betty, the strength of her love for me kept her presence close in some mysterious way. But now, I do not doubt her love, but she seems oddly distant. Even though we pray for her to recover and believe she is just stubborn enough to do so, there is pain in the separation from the strong woman we all once knew. When I heard the news of her struggles my response was anger, not sadness. I believed deep within that it was simply not fair for this woman to suffer but also because deep down I feared I might never see her again. She is doing better and I hope to see her soon, and that hope of connection is stronger than all my fears and anger.

As I said before we each of us have not just a desire for connection but a hunger and a thirst. Intimacy with our fellow man is not just pleasant, it is vital. Without each other, though our hearts may still beat, our souls no longer live. Jesus knew this well. Before his death he prays a long prayer in John 17 that repeats the same petition over and over: that we may be one. This oneness is core to his hope in us, to his death with us, and to his resurrection for us. While we often focus on the aspects of forgiveness and new life in Jesus' gospel, we must see that we are forgiven so we may be reconciled to God and each other and that reconciled life is indeed our new life. Jesus also showed that pure unity was central to his gospel message when he summed the entire law of holiness up into two relational commands, that righteousness is found in right relationship with God and with each other, nothing more and certainly nothing less.

Our relationships suffer most severely the consequences of death that our sin produces. In the first instance of disobedience, man runs and hides from the God he walked with everyday and covers himself up from his wife in shame. Our relationships were what defined us in the creation account, God in all his triune glory decides to make us in "our image," the shared image of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in perfect unity with each other. And it is that perfect unity that Jesus uses in his prayer as the model for our oneness, "may they be one as we are one." The day is coming when the groom Jesus will be united with his bridegroom the church and what a celebration of union that day will be. But in the mean time, we struggle to hold on to the beautiful relationships we currently inhabit and fight to repair the broken ones. This is hard work. Never will we open ourselves to more hurt than when we make ourselves vulnerable in relationships, than when we lay aside our fig leaves of shame and dare to live life together, in pure oneness.

All this points to why it hurts so much to hear that a loved one is in pain, because if we truly love that person then their pain becomes our own,that is both the blessing and perhaps the curse of our oneness. The reality is that we are all meant to be each other's loved ones and every instance of isolation, death, and disconnect hurts us to our core even if we do not realize it. But gloriously Jesus became our loved one and on that fateful day he felt our suffering in its fullest and it killed him. But in that act he showed love was stronger than death, that relationships would always win over separation in the end and he burst forth from the divide of death to reconnect all of creation to itself and to himself. Just as he felt our suffering on the cross, we feel his joy in the resurrection. May we find our stories at the intersection of the cross, at the place of Jesus prayer for our oneness, and the birth of our reconciled lives walking anew without shame in the presence of the one we have only dreamed of until now. And that hope of connection is stronger than all our fears and anger.

 May we be one.

What is the Church? Part 2: A Story

In December of 2005, I lost my life.  It was, in many ways, coming to an end.  I could almost feel the noose around my neck.  My life was defined by addictions to drugs, drink, and depression.  I was simply dark.  But as the Grateful Dead once sang, "you can see the light in the strangest places if you look at them right."  And sitting on a barstool in a frat bar that I bounced at, a friend came to me and asked what was wrong.  It was such a simple question, one that I often answered "nothing" to, but this night I was in a strange place and with whatever shred of hope I had left, I was straining see some semblance of light.  So I laid my troubles before this friend and in his confusing religious speak, something burst forth.  Grace, perhaps.  

Having little choice, I leapt at it.

Two days later I awoke in a Baptist church in Mammoth Spring, Arkansas; surreal, I know.  And whatever it was the burst forth in that bar, exploded that morning.  I fell in love with this person named Jesus and all the things I had done, that had defined me so, ceased causing me pain and finished their torment upon that man.  In my new freedom, all I could hope to utter was a tear-drenched "I'm sorry."  And in that most honest of prayers, I felt the arm of my cousin and the sweet forgiveness of my God.  I went home after the service and repeated the act of confession to my mom, who like our God prior, shushed me and simply said, "I forgive you, I love you, I am so glad you're home."   The invitation was before me in the outstretched arms of my crying mother.

Having little choice, I leapt at it.

Despite being home, I felt like a stranger.  I had never gone to Sunday school, I had never sung "I'll Fly Away," and I had sure never prayed believing that it made some sort of difference.  But this was my new home.  And something special burst forth in this strange place, I became part of a family.  These people had no reason to trust me, no reason to care about me.  I was a recovering addict from God-only-knows-where, but this community, Mammoth Spring First Baptist Church called me "son."  Less than a month in, I was already teaching.  They gave me a place helping out with the 4th-6th grade class.  Little did I know at the time, but those kids would teach me more than I ever taught them.  I could not help but lay awake at night back then and think about what was happening to me.  I once was alone, purposeless, blind, and drunk, but somehow God pulled me out of that mess and put me into a family, I was in every way a new man.  I soon began to to know the stories of this new family and I was invited to become a part of their next chapter, I was invited to dinner, to play music, but most of all, to simply be together.

Having little choice, I leapt at it.

People who were complete strangers a month ago, showed me the Grand Gulf, invited me to pick my mandolin back up and play in front of everyone, got on their backs and crawled underneath my car to see what was the matter, hugged me when I most needed it, and reminded me constantly that Jesus loved me whether they said it or not.  For someone who felt that love had slipped him by, this tasted the most sweet.  I thank God that He loved me so much, that he gave me to this thing called church.  I know these past few years have been both difficult and wonderful and everything in-between but I still made it, I survived by God.  Yet, I still wonder what tomorrow brings, whether or not I will continue this game of survival.  And in the midst of that doubt I sense something strange bursting through, whispering "trust me." And I also see something strange in the beautiful mess that is my church, extending its hand, asking me to come along to suffer and celebrate together.  It is a beautiful offer.

Having little choice, I leap at it.

MLK Jr.'s "I have a Dream Speech

I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation.

So we have come to cash this check — a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that; let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"

Goodbye 2010

All this week I have been dwelling on the good of 2010.  What this seems to imply is an ignorance of the bad, but that is not the case.  There is this ancient story about a group of brothers who sell their brother into slavery and tell their father he is dead.  While captive in a far off land, this enslaved brother rises to become one of the most important leaders in the Kingdom, saving the people from famine.  Unknowing he was even still alive, his family comes to his land in search of food.  The brother seeks out his brothers and is eventually able to forgive them.  He sums up the years in between their betrayal and their reconciliation in these words: "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good..."  Ours is a redemptive God able to take our broken lives and not just fix them but use that very brokenness for good.  So with this in mind I say goodbye to 2010 and pray for the courage to see the bad of this past year as the means to something altogether better.

May the God of Joseph, the God of Jacob, the God of us all grant us the courage to hope for redemption, to hope for something better and to trust that He will take each failure, each pain, and every tear and make something beautiful.  Peace be with you in 2011.

Ruminations on Reconciliation

Perhaps my favorite name for Christians is found in 2 Corinthians 5; ambassadors of reconciliation. This concept of being reconciled to God is not a prominent doctrine heard in our churches these days, but a reading of several of Paul's letters, particularly Romans, teaches us that reconciliation may be the "whole" story behind what Christ was doing on the cross.

Those first few chapters of Romans paint a bleak picture. We have done more than just ignore God, we have become His enemies. This is not just some far off deity growing displeased with his play toys, this is Papa we are talking about. In perhaps his proudest moment, from the depths of a bottomless imagination, He spoke His children into being. They were to be His prize, not just His friends but his very own family. Like the prodigal son we spat in His face and demanded our freedom, only to find ourselves snatching scraps from under the pig's trough and let's be honest, we hated Him for it.

When we think of "being saved" the thought is often of our debts being canceled and rightfully so. Yet God offers us more than just forgiveness, He offers us a repaired and renewed relationship; He offers reconciliation. This is no small matter, lest we forget that God was not just mad at us, we were His enemy. And yet this enmity lays the groundwork for one of my favorite passages: "but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." This is more than some charity case or act of benevolance; this is crazy love. Reconcilation is what makes salvation so radical, its like Hitler and Churchill sharing tea, yet oh so much more. The judge has taken up our defense, paid our penalty and then opened his home for us, adopting us. We who warred against God, now find shelter in His camp.

You can forgive a person and not be reconciled with them. Yet what Jesus has done not only gave us a just status, it gave us a relationship. We were made for this, sitting on Papa's knee, His hand on our shoulder, teaching us to live. Yet Romans, and our lives, has shown us that this relationship still has some mending to be done. Paul encourages us that "For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, how much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life." Our reconciled condition is in a sort of "already but not-yet" condition. We are an enigma.

The other day I was walking along the Platte River here in Denver and I came to a garbage dump along the way. As I was looking at the dump, I was shocked at the amazing view I had of Mt. Evans and the sun setting behind it. I was floored by this picture of our present state. As I peered through trash, I saw glory. As we look at one another, may we see past the trash and see glory. May we see each other as what we are, a bunch of already-but-not yets. Jesus said that we must forgive to be forgiven, should we not reconcile so that we may be reconciled? So, let us take up our mantle and become ambassadors of reconciliation, bringing not just good news to the lost (and each other) but friendship as well.