Mountains and Valleys...

Having just come back from the Holy Lands a few weeks ago, I was once again reminded of the beautiful, yet contrasting terrain of this special place.  The harsh mountains stand in stark distinction from the lush green valleys below.  The mountains to the south of Jerusalem, which comprise much of what we know as the “wilderness” of biblical lore, offer little in the way of greenery or any sort of lush life-sustaining vegetation.  The Jordan River valley, on the other hand, boasts of rich soil and a plethora of bumper crops, abounding in grasses, trees, and life all around.  It was easy for me to see why so few people could live in such a difficult place as the rugged terrain of the southern wilderness, and why so many choose to make their homes in the green-ness of the river valleys of the central and northern countryside.

Ironically, according to the Gospels, there were more stories of Jesus and his disciples finding respite and rest on the mountains, rather than the valleys.  Recall the stories of the Transfiguration, the Sermon on the Mount, and the many occasions where Jesus and his disciples met on the Mount of Olives outside of Jerusalem.  The mountaintop experiences lead us to say with Peter, “Lord, it is good for us to be here!”  We want to stay. 

I am reminded of how many people prefer to stay in the comfortable places – they are familiar, and offer much in terms of contentment.  Life is not challenging when we are in the comfortable.  We are not tested.  Seldom are we confronted when we are in those places of ease and comfort.  And in our world today, that can be a good thing.

But it also can be a bad thing.  Jesus always reminded the disciples that the ministry to which they (and we) were called is more often than not down in the valleys, where everything is not necessarily so green and lush.  There is oftentimes pain, suffering, lost-ness, and brokenness down in the valleys.  Jesus challenges us to come down from the mountains and spend some time in the valleys where there is great need, because this is what causes growth.  When we are not dared to grow outside of what we are used to, we tend to stagnate, or atrophy.  Life is stunted.  Growth does not happen.

As we approach the wilderness of the end of the Lenten season, we are given a unique opportunity.  So many folks will approach the end of Lent by moving from Palm Sunday straight to Easter.  From Hosanna (God Save Us) to Hallelujah (Praise the Lord).  And when we do so, we miss the valley of shadows, where growth can happen.

This year, during Holy Week, we will be offering a special worship service each evening at 7 pm.  You are invited to come and walk with Jesus and the disciples through the events of that last week in Jesus’ life.  You are encouraged to take a step outside of your comfort zone, and to experience the valley that Jesus trod.  Make the journey from the Gates of Jerusalem to the Mount of Olives, to the Garden of Gethsemane, to Caiaphas’ house, to Pilate’s courtyard, to Golgotha, to the garden tomb, and finally to the resurrection on Easter Sunday.  Make the journey from the mountain to the valley of shadows.  It will make the Hallelujahs of Easter all that more meaningful.

See you in Church!

Grace and peace,

Brad

Spring Cleaning...

I usually love this time of year.  The winds start to blow a bit more briskly, the sun comes out, and the gentle rains have nourished the wildflowers growing all across the Texas landscape.  Because of the nice weather, I begin to feel that surge of energy to go into my garage woodshop and create something.  The only part that I don't necessarily like about Spring is that when the sun shines after the winds have blown, I am made aware of the dirt that exists in the crevices of my garage - because they are now all over the garage!   Spring cleaning is in order!

A good spring cleaning can actually be therapeutic.  It is more than just sweeping up the sawdust and brushing away the cobwebs that have accumulated over the winter.  It has a zen-like quality when you know that you are shedding things that you know you really shouldn't have kept in the first place.  The various and sundry items that we amass have an attraction to them. (I remember my father boasting once upon a time about his garage as being "well-equipped."  "If it isn't in there, you didn't need it!" was his favorite saying.)  We keep the odd part, the extra nuts and bolts, the salvagable components of a repair project, all in the hopes that someday, we might just "need" it.  And so it is shelved, or placed in the cabinet, the drawer, or elsewhere in storage until the time when it will "rescue the day."

Of course, purging the unnecessary can be a difficult thing as well.  The things that we've grown accustomed to can have an attachment to us.  A favorite tool, or a comfortable (albeit worn) pair of gloves, old work boots, can have a connection to us in some way that makes us feel the need to hang on to them.  Not because they cannot be replaced, but because they have meaning and purpose.  (Also, as my father was want to say, "they have a story.") 

Ironically, the same can be true of many of our old habits, especially when it comes to our faith.  The things that we have picked up along the way can have an odd way of adhering to us that will weigh us down.   Like so many barnacles on the bottom of a boat, we find that we are weighted down, and as a result, slowed down.  Before long, we find ourselves lugging around the habits, the vestiges, the remnants of days gone by, hoping that someday they will come back into style for us, and we'll once again be cruising along in our faith.  Unfortunately, we find ourselves taking on water, but don't know why.  Or worse, we find ourselves having to make the disturbing decision of what to salvage, and what to throw overboard, before we sink to the bottom of spiritual ineffectiveness.

The Season of Lent offers us a chance to radically look at who we are, and what we carry with us into the journey of the wilderness of faith.  (Envision here the ice-breaker game of "You are going on a long journey across the desert - you can only bring one thing.  What would it be?")  Streamlining, cleaning house - the house of our spirit - is a primary focus of the Lenten season.  In order to once again be drawn closer to God's will, what would you eliminate?  What would be the absolute essentials that you know you cannot live without - and then ask yourself, "With the power of the Holy Spirit, is this even necessary for me to be faithful to who God is calling me to be?"

It's time.  Spring is almost here.  And I can't stand the dustbunnies in my garage (or my soul) a minute longer.  I'm rolling up my sleeves, and I'm going to get cleaning...  I invite you to get some spring cleaning in as well.  See you in Church!

Grace and peace,
Brad