Deep in Sonoma County, California, a potter named Hugh Hope paints invisible designs on the surface of a platter. It looks odd to the casual observer, this artist who sits alone with his vessel, painting patterns that no one can see. The magic of Hope's work, however, is revealed when he begins the second step of the process.
Once the timing is right, he dips his brush into a bit of red iron oxide and gently grazes the platter. The scarlet hue spreads across the surface, coloring the vessel, but, more importantly, revealing the secret design that Hope painted with his invisible wax. The designs rest quietly on the surface, unseen by the average observer, until the master potter applies the color. The iron oxide suddenly reveals the potter's artwork in all its beauty. So often when we are on the Potter's wheel, it is easy to look at other vessels and wonder what God is doing with us. We can see Him working, but it does not seem like anything is happening. It is easy to get impatient and even disheartened. Sometimes we start to question what He is doing in our lives. But the work of the Master Potter is not always apparent on the surface. He works with deft hands and skilled practice.So many of His most beautiful designs are the ones He creates with invisible wax, painting intricately and invisibly, until the moment He applies the iron oxide, and suddenly our eyes are opened to the masterpiece He has been crafting us to be.
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Far away in the Land of the Rising Sunlives lives a school of Japanese potters who specialize in the art of kintsugi (golden journey). Their art form does not focus on forming perfect pottery with beautiful patterns or shapes, but on repairing broken pottery to highlight the journey of each piece. The beauty of their work is in the brokenness. After gathering up the broken pieces, they restore the vessel with gold, silver, or platinum lacquer. They use the most costly minerals on earth to bind the broken places.
The beauty of a kintsugi vessel is in the striking maps of its broken places. The art of kintsugi tells us so much about how God sees brokenness. One of the most beautiful passages in the Bible on the topic of brokenness is Psalm 51, wherein David the king falls on his face before God in repentance. He has just realized how much he has failed God, his people, and himself. He stands before his Lord, utterly broken. But in the midst of his brokenness, he lifts his voice in faith, declaring, "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit, a broken and a contrite heart— these, O God, You will not despise" (17). Indeed, God did not turn David away simply because he had failed. He repaired and restored him, just as He continues to do with us today. Brokenness does not exclude us from God's love, power, or plan. He simply asks that, instead of trying to hide it in the shadows, that we bring it before Him so that He can do what He does best: lovingly repair us, not hiding the cracked and chipped places, but showcasing them in beauty so that our lives will forever testify of Him. "When I could not reach mercy, mercy came running to me." (PCD)
I have been blessed with an old dog. I've had her since her puppy years, and she is a constant source of joy. When she was younger, she would run to the door as soon as I came home. She was never self-conscious. She didn't worry about whether or not I wanted to see her. She was overjoyed to see me. Now she is 21, and, while she is still thrilled to see me, it's a different experience. Her joints ache and there's a little less pep in her step. Sometimes she makes it to the door, walking gingerly, but just as happy I'm home. Sometimes, though, her little legs are just too tired and she sits on the couch, waiting for me to come to her. And I always do. I loved her when she was strong and I love her every bit as much when she is weak. I just love to spend time with her. Hebrews 4:16 gives us instructions on how to approach God: we can come boldly before Him. Sometimes I do, since I am just so excited to spend time with Him. But then there are other situations, moments when I am weak and hurting. I want to come before Him, but I am so weighed down with the cares of life that I feel I don't have the strength. But I am so glad for Hebrews 4:15, which reminds me that God is "touched with the feeling of [my] infirmities" -- He loves me even when I am weak. Like the beautiful song says, when I could not reach Him, He came running to me. When I am weak, He reaches for me, and in Him I become strong once again. Many years ago, my family moved from Dallas to Houston. We boxed up our belongings, but when we ran out of boxes (and patience!) we started putting things in trash bags. We loaded our minivan and set off on a new adventure. But when we unpacked, , we were shocked to find that one of the bags we had transported across Texas was a bag of garbage. We had brought trash to our new house!
This is so true of life. Every now and then, I stop to think about what I am carrying with me throughout my day. I try to carry God's promises daily, to box up the best memories and take them with me. But sometimes I carry other things too: hurts, mistakes, unforgiveness, guilt, and even shame. Every day I move through life, I am transporting something. Sometimes it is treasure and sometimes it is trash. However, things don't end with the moving process. Moving is just a temporary state. I cannot always choose what happens to me, but I can choose what I pack up to keep. I can help what I carry with me. When we arrived in Houston and discovered we had brought trash with us, we did not unpack it and put it in our home. We chose to throw it out. Likewise, when God calls us to move into new things, He doesn't want us to bring the trash of the past with us. We have the power to decide what we allow into our new home. We can choose to fill our spiritual lives with treasure and leave the trash behind. "What would you do if you knew you only had one day to live?"
One survey notes that, of 2,000 Americans surveyed, 95% had a "bucket" list of things they wanted to do before death. The highest priority categories were travel (77%), financial (71%), personal development (71%), family (67%), and health (55%). Near bottom of the list were other categories such as spiritual development (40%) and service-related activities (27%). It gives us an interesting idea about where the priorities of many people are when they think about the end of life. As we bid good-bye to Easter once more, I cannot help but think about a meme I came across: "Sometimes I joke about what I'd do if I had one day left to live [...] Today it hit me: Jesus knew. And He washed feet." It's a sobering thought. In fact, if we look at what Jesus' "bucket list" was for His final days on earth, we see that He: prepared His disciples for the coming of the Holy Spirit, washed their feet, served His enemy, prayed in the garden, surrendered His will, healed a man who was arresting Him, gave His life on Calvary, and won victory over sin and death, to name a few. It is telling that the things many Americans prioritize last on their lists were top two priorities for Jesus. I have spent some time comparing these two lists as I move into another season of enjoying the costly salvation that was so freely given to me. While I also love travel and family, and hope to improve my finances and health, I pray that the days I continue to live out will more and more closely resemble the last days of Jesus. “I don’t dwell on it.” I often find myself thinking about my grandmother’s signature phrase. Grandma went through a lot in life – the Great Depression, WWII, and all the armed conflicts in between. She outlived seven of her fifteen children. When we asked how she coped, she simply said: “I don’t dwell on it.” Her words became my primary coping mechanism. When pain whispered, I refused to dwell on it, ignoring my tears and the feelings that went with them. I thought I knew her secret to strength: shove things aside and keep moving. Race ahead and pretend it didn’t happen. Refuse to dwell on it. But then life caught up with me. Traumatic memories played on an endless loop in my mind, storming my mind and heart like a mighty army. I realized that I had not only started to dwell on them, but to dwell in them. I finally had to deal with my pain. Healing made its way through my carefully curated collection of secret wounds, and strength surged through me. I realized Grandma had refused to dwell on things; I had refused to deal with them. I am learning to allow myself to feel the hurt when it hits because I know strength does not come from arbitrary barricades but from enforcing guardianship of my heart and mind. I now see that, while pain has been trying to invade, my God, my loved ones and my own strength have stood outside too, ready to help me fight if I would only let them in. I am now striving to be the kind of person who deals with pain but who abides under the shadow of the Almighty, and who dwells among those who are amazing enough to love me through it. And just like that we’re twenty years into the second millennium! A milestone like this one tempts us to look back and marvel at how things have changed. (Can you believe that we are closer to the year 2040 than to 1990?) But a new year presents us a new challenge: looking forward. We have a relatively clear view of the past. We see where we’ve been. But the future? Sometimes it seems like we actually have 20/00 vision when we try to look forward. But this is a special year: it’s 2020, the year of perfect vision. So why not take this year to make those changes you’ve been wanting for so long? Instead of dwelling on a list of resolutions you’re secretly afraid you won’t be able to keep, why not cast a vision for the changes you want to make in life? Make 2020 the year of perfecting that vision. Take that big goal and break it into manageable pieces. Work through it as you can, keeping the big picture in mind as you move forward. If one approach doesn’t work out, realize that you’re still being faithful to your goal: you are merely perfecting your vision. This is the year to break free. Resist the urge to stay chained to yesterday’s mistakes and realize that they have simply been tools to help you calibrate where you really want to be. It’s 2020! May this be a year of wonderful change and the clearest vision you have ever had for your life. You’ve got this! There is something truly amazing that happens when cultures come together. Perhaps it reminds us that we are not alone in the world. Perhaps it helps us to escape our own problems for the moment. Perhaps it even does something more – it reminds us that we are a part of something greater and grander than the boundaries of our own region. Last Sunday, Gateway UPC was honored to host All Nations Sunday, an international event right here in our hometown. The sanctuary decorated with flags from every country around the world; translation into English, Spanish, and Portuguese; an inspiring message about our place in the global church; and a song sung in eighteen languages – a glimpse of the kind of worship we will lend our voices to in heaven – set us up for an atmosphere of international understanding and, most of all, international worship. After the service, we enjoyed a global tour: Around the World in 90 Minutes. In an hour and a half, we explored tables decorated with items from every region in the world, complete with a smorgasbord of international foods. It was such a treat to see Mexican tamales, Chinese chow mein, Spanish paella, Nigerian jollof rice, Tahitian po’e pudding, Jamaican jerk chicken with coconut rice, Israeli falafel, Malawian mbatatacookies, to name a small fraction of everything that was available, frolicking together on the same plates. Thank you to everyone who made an effort to be involved in our All Nations Sunday celebration, whether you helped decorate, cook, or you simply showed up. It was our honor to host you and we hope you will make us a part of your future celebrations in October. We hope to see everyone again next year! Please keep our missionaries, churches, and people around the world in your prayers. God can still work miracles and is not limited by race, culture, language, or borders. It wasn’t meant to last. When Gustave Eiffel’s team won the heated bid to construct the entrance to the 1889 World’s Fair, it was meant to be temporary. Still, for two years they employed their bridge-building skills to fashion the wrought-iron lattice tower, hoping their precision would combat any destructive winds. The temporary exhibit was designed with permanence in mind and soared 81 stories high. Critics were quick hurl insults, labeling it ugly, daring, impossible, and rebellious, even to the point of circulating an “Artists against the Eiffel Tower” petition. They must have found some solace in the fact that it was at least scheduled for demolition in 1909. No one expected it to change the Paris skyline forever. After all, it wasn’t meant to last. And yet it did. In World War I, it intercepted enemy radio transmissions and dispatched troops. The next world war saw Hitler’s unsuccessful attempt to demolish it. Today, it continues to inspire us, creating moments of international solidarity when its colorful lights reflect triumphs and tragedies around the world. It wasn’t meant to last – and yet Eiffel’s team built it as if it would stand forever. Your season may be temporary, intended to last but a moment here, but how are you building it? How will your legacy outlive you when your critics and naysayers are long gone? Temporary seasons in lives lived with a legendary outlook cannot help but change skylines, worlds, hearts, and lives. The dawning of the nineteenth century brought about the birth of nations. Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm chased down folk and fairy tales, realizing that it was in the telling of Germany’s stories that identity could be unearthed. The Book of Judges opens on a contrasting landscape: the people had forgotten their stories and so they lost sight of who they were each time they were conquered. But many years later, an eight-year-old king discovered some forgotten scrolls and sought out a storyteller. Although Judah was later conquered by many empires, in the telling of their stories, they remembered who they were even though it would be centuries until they had a land to call their own. In telling our stories, we tap into an incredible source of strength and power, not only for us but for those around us as well. Revelation 12:11 tells us that when the enemy attacks, we overcome “by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of [our] testimony.” In telling our stories, we have the power to overcome. Although our stories are filled with twists and turns, we have the bright hope and blessed assurance that one day He will call us into yet another new story – one that He has been preparing for years. Rather than reaching the point of happily ever after, we will realize that our once upon a time is really only just beginning. |
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