The Tootsie Roll Center of a Tootsie Pop

Matthew 26:69-75

Meanwhile Peter was sitting outside in the courtyard, and a servant-girl came up to him saying, 'You, too, were with Jesus the Galilean.' But he denied it in front of them all. 'I do not know what you are talking about,' he said. When he went out to the gateway another servant-girl saw him and said to the people there, 'This man was with Jesus the Nazarene.' And again, with an oath, he denied it, 'I do not know the man.' A little later the bystanders came up and said to Peter, 'You are certainly one of them too! Why, your accent gives you away.' Then he started cursing and swearing, 'I do not know the man.' And at once the cock crowed, and Peter remembered what Jesus had said, 'Before the cock crows you will have disowned me three times.' And he went outside and wept bitterly.

Peter's tears are like a conduit to our own humanity. "And he went outside and wept bitterly"- we should read this line with great remorse. Can we not relate with this defining moment of his life? If Jesus says that murder begins in the heart, how does our disobedience look any more righteous than Peter's denial of Christ?

The temptation to sin seems to nestle beneath our skin, germinating within the wrinkled furrows of our faces, cuddling up with our most intimate desires to do good. It is as inevitable as aging and as discreet as a whisper. Some of the most trivial hardships we will face will come from within. When Jesus fell on his face in the Garden of Gethsemane was he mustering the strength to withstand the affliction of the Cross or the willingness to withstand forsakenness and submit to the will of His Heavenly Father? A beautiful prayer:

Matthew 26:37-39

He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee with him. And he began to feel sadness and anguish. Then he said to them, 'My soul is sorrowful to the point of death. Wait here and stay awake with me.' And going on a little further he fell on his face and prayed. 'My Father,' he said, 'if it is possible, let this cup pass me by. Nevertheless, let it be as you, not I, would have it.'

A few weeks ago I attended a night of prayer and worship near Boston. There I heard Matt Maher bring up this same prayer. He divided it in two relatable portions when we are seeking peace, escape, and to find His helping hand throughout it all. The first of which probably sounds a bit familiar. How many times, in our moments of despair, have we prayed that our Father would "let this cup pass me by" in some form or the other? It is a completely justifiable action and the Spirit works miracles through such a request absolutely. This portion of the prayer is the easier part because it's the natural part- it's comforting to share our desires with the God...

Father, if this Cross does not need to happen that would be great... if this grief and loneliness from losing the life of my spouse can leave me go right ahead... if this pain from cancer could subside please make it so...

The second portion is the hard part; the courageous part; the miracle. Jesus prays, "Nevertheless, let it be as you, not I, would have it."

God is not the giver of evil, but He could make all our troubles go away instantly. In His moment of temptation to undo the will of the Father, of a sorrowfulness to the point of death, Jesus gave Himself over to His Father's will so that we would not perish, but by Faith through Grace, live eternally basking in His love (read John 3:16).

Luke 22:43-44

Then an angel appeared to him, coming from heaven to give him strength. In his anguish he prayed even more earnestly, and his sweat fell to the ground like great drops of blood.

Jesus literally sweat blood. Medical terms define it as hematohidrosis. Christ experienced such a physical and spiritual anxiety over the prospect of forsakenness that bloody sweat emerged from his flesh. On the Cross, Jesus would experience the weight of the world's sin and an aloneness He had not encountered.

Matthew 12:40

For as Jonah remained in the belly of the sea-monster for three days and three nights, so will the Son of man be in the heart of the earth for three days and three nights.

L'Arche is a community that attempts to partake in the brokenness of both people with and without disabilities. The pain of such brokenness can have a lot of vibrato. There are individuals we encounter in community that are particularly difficult to love. It can vary between ourselves, God, a person with a disability, or a person without. Coming to L'Arche I felt like the most unwavering asset I could provide was a ceaseless compassion, but I see now, in the hourly grind, how conflict can drop seeds of hate and how routine can kill the bloom of our heart's compassion. In only a few months I'm discovering the fairly quick transition it can be for one's mindset to shift from that of a servant to a slave. Sometimes I have struggled to distinguish between disability and burden. My eyes can fail me to an extent where I see not the man, but the responsibilities that might ensue in befriending such a man. Even in this moment I loathe the anticipation of future outbursts with this member of community I speak of. I struggle to partake in the brokenness of this individual. It takes a special breed to live L'Arche in the true Spirit of it's commission and this one person, in the poverty of their circumstances, forces me to doubt myself in ways I didn't imagine. Each passing moment seems to be a hurdle between us and although loving him can be the least of my desires, it is what is required of me without a doubt. What wealth is to humanity is but a fraction of what love is to the Lord:

Song of Songs 8:7

Were a man to offer all his family wealth to buy love, contempt is all that he would gain.

Peter professed a boisterous love "Lord, I would be ready to go to prison with you, and to death" (Luke 22:33). We have these moments of whimsical pride, but also horrible grief reminiscent of Peter's fall "and he went outside and wept bitterly". To put it bluntly, when we disobey we murder Him...we expel Him from our hearts...we become exactly like Peter in his brutal denial of the Christ. In my denial of a particular member of our body it is my version of "Lord, I will go to prison with you and to death" manifesting itself into that of denying Him three times as well. I've prayed aplenty that no outbursts would happen, no fits of rage would divulge, no harmful defiance would explode on me or others in the home and this is in many ways the first portion of Christ' prayer in Gethsemane, "My Father, if it possible, let this cup pass me by." I feel the Lord wants to do a work in me the hard way though. I think He wants to see transformation from the inside out- on a heart level. The first portion is kind of the exterior, the surface, the convenient way out. But the second...well, the second is kind of the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop; it's the underlying, heart-level issues that act as our personal road blocks to loving Him and others more fully.

Before he went to the Cross, Jesus prayed for Peter in Luke 22:31-32 so that Peter's faith would not fail. As Christ foretold, Peter did not pick up his cross with the events that ensued shortly after. We will weep bitterly and face crossroads in our lives that leave us in anguish and shame, but it is important to say to ourselves 'this is where I belong' because God wants to restore us, forgive us, and give us true rest. At that point in the process of repentance, it is no longer about what we did, said, behaved... could of, should of, would of, right? I believe wholeheartedly that after Peter's denial, in his introspection, he was humbled and that it elevated the glory of Jesus even higher. A deep, underlying work had been done in Peter's faith and heart and this readied him to hear the words:

John 21: 18-19

In all truth I tell you, when you were young you put on your own belt and walked where you liked; but when you grow old you will stretch out your hands, and somebody else will put a belt round you and take you where you would rather not go.

In these words he indicated the kind of death by which Peter would give glory to God. After this he said, 'Follow me.'

In my difficulty to face the day's coming afflictions I've needed to remind myself the second portion of Jesus' prayer in Gethsemane. I've needed to find nourishment in the comparison of Christ' agony to my own so that I can keep my anguish in perspective to that of the Cross of Jesus. I know that each and every day we need to experience the saving grace of the Cross because we beg "let this cup pass me by" so frequently! But hopefully we hold steadfast like an autumn tree in the wind. Perhaps our leafs fall to the ground and furl into their own decomposing graves, but our faith and hope must remain rooted amidst calamity so that we might love... So that we would remain honored to hear the words follow me once more.

Let us not forget, "Nevertheless, let it be as You, not I, would have it."

All Biblical Translations: New Jerusalem Bible

A Prayer

(Photo by: Philipp Ludewig, In Picture: Devan)

Heavenly Father,

You hear our cries, You suffer our bondage, You bear our burdens

Your presence spreads like the foliage of Fall,

You are the wind beneath the falling leaf,

You are Credence in the sunrise,

You are Love within our mud,

You are Grace within our shame,

You are Courage beneath the fear,

You are Sunshine at the shore,

Abba, My Abba

You are the Glory of the summit,

Shine...Shine...Shine

The Furious Longing of God

(Photo by: Philipp Ludewig, Location: atop Mt. Pemigewasset Trail, White Mountains, New Hampshire)

Brennan Manning writes in, The Furious Longing of God:

If we continue to view ourselves as moral lepers and spiritual failures, if our lives are shadowed by low self-esteem, shame, remorse, unhealthy guilt, and self-hatred, we reject the teaching of Jesus and cling to our negative self-image. In the fifth century, St. Augustine wrote this lyrical line: Quia amasti me, fecisti me amabilem (In loving me, you made me lovable)

I write not for those who are feeling relatively efficient, pleasing, or heroic in their faiths or perhaps simply the projection of their faithfulness. If this is you- simply press the cute little X in the top left of the screen and all will be forgiven.

I write with sheer brokenheartedness for those of us who feel weighed down...heavily.

For all who are feeling how Brennan Manning has so aptly put- downtrodden and bedraggled.

For all who can't stand what they see in themselves, the ones closest to them, their world... perhaps a triple-crown.

For all who waste tears on feeling like waste.

For all who have lost sight of their Abba, their daddy, and the willingness to become that dumbfounded, helpless, little baby whose cheeks may press firmly up to the palm of their not-going-anywhere, never-letting-go, crying-with-contentment, dancing-with-joy, proudest-Abba-our-Abba-could-ever-be, Daddy.

We can be so willing to brace ourselves for the punishment of God's judgment; so inclined to inflict the pain for Him. But when faced with the intimacy of God's love we duck and cover! Our faiths prove to be so frustratingly shallow even in episodes of pleasing pride. How silly is the thought when reminded of our Father's heart in Word and Spirit:

Song of Solomon 7:10 (NASB)=

"I am my beloved's,
And his desire is for me"

Zephaniah 2:17 (New Jerusalem Bible Translation)=

"Yahweh your God is there with you, the warrior-Saviour. He will rejoice over you with happy song, he will renew you by his love, he will dance with shouts of joy for you"

Song of Songs 2:10-13 (NJB)=

"My love lifts up his voice, he says to me, 'Come then, my beloved, my lovely one, come.'
For see, winter is past, the rains are over and gone.
Flowers are appearing on the earth. The season of glad songs has come, the cooing of the turtledove is heard in our land.
The fig tree is forming its first figs and the blossoming vines give out their fragrance. Come then, my beloved, my lovely one, come"

Being present in the tenderness of God's love and longing for us is not easy. Tenderness means intimacy and intimacy with God usually means two things: first, it is life changing and I mean that in a good way, and second, it is not in accordance with our plans and I mean that in an unsettling way. Like the Prodigal Son our worlds churn upside down and the place we once burnt to ashes becomes Home.

It's so hard to believe on the innermost layer of the onion that we are truly lovable, Golden, worthy, radiant. It's so hard to believe that God likes us in moments of uselessness, moments in which we transform aloneness into loneliness instead of solitude, and our passive-aggressive, sprinkled comments of dissatisfaction.

I want to warn/remind you of our ceaseless performance reviews and our habit to nitpick with perfectionism the slightest discouragements of the day. We're blinding ourselves so severely from Jesus that we forget what He looks like and what we look like- all that beauty untouched and unseen! So if you think this might be you just stop and if you can't stop then pause and if you can't pause then SLOW.

What I'm about to say I believe wholeheartedly from the deepest burrows of my human, but redeemed heart: The derivative of God adoring faith is not about what we do or how much we do it, the imitation of the Saints, and all our fancy schmancy discourse. No, it is first the adventure of God's adoration for us. It's about discovering our Abba's insurmountable love and adoration for (fill in this space with your first, middle, and last name) and all the justifiable reasons that He feels so divinely wonderful you breathe this instant.

During this end-of-summer season I trekked up a miniature trail in the White Mountains of New Hampshire with a good, new, foreign friend of mine. Fall in Massachusetts is both cold and gorgeous- making it all the more heart warming. In the picture above (click to enlarge) is me; that insignificant spec of a person sitting on Mt. Pemigewasset's summit atop a granite ledge that falls 1,500 feet into the floor of the Franconia Notch.

Staring across a rummage of forest trees crafting a collage of red, yellow, green, and purple leafs, the air was smooth and the sun hid and shined periodically throughout the day. From that view and all the creation involved in making it I was mesmerized with God's beauty. My gratitude extended beyond the thickets of trees in sight.

I thought,"To be apart of this... to sit so deeply high... and to see a view so undeservedly so...I am loved"

What I didn't catch in that moment that I do now is that while I sat mesmerized with Him, eyes frantically pacing to retrieve all the edges of beauty vision could reach, God's eyes were on me... Nothing else but me.

We are His view.

This was but one of many future fragments needed in life that took me from valleys low to mountains high.

If you are wedged in deep below a thought of lovelessness and sorrow, I implore you to hike, to run, to feel, to laugh, to write, to draw, to play, to rest, to read, to sing, to dance...like you never, not ever have once before in your life!

I want for us to rejoice.

I want song.

I want dance.

I want us all to hold our hearts up high even in the midst of our worst worthlessness.

Zephaniah 2:14 =

"My dove, hiding in the clefts of the rock, in the coverts of the cliff, show me your face, let me hear your voice; for your voice is sweet and your face is lovely"

Father, quia amasti me, fecisti me amabilem.

From one, broken, inexcusable excuse of a Christian to another.