Uniquely His

When I was little, I really disliked my name. I can't say I'm super fond of it now, but the biggest issue I had with it all those years ago, was the spelling (something I've grown to appreciate). On family vacations, I'd search rack after rack at gift shops, looking for personalized pencils, imprinted bags, customized bracelets, and those cute little stamped license plates for your bike: I rarely found Judy, much less J-U-D-I. I began spelling my name with a y, just to be "normal." My mother curtly responded by telling me she'd used an I that I might stand out; not something an introverted twelve-year old wants to do. Yet, having someone recognize me, place my name on something I possessed was somehow important to me. These days, when I search gift shops looking for my name, I look to be sure it's not there. I like being the only J-U-D-I in the room. I like being unique.

Psalm 139 is one of the most powerful reminders of our uniqueness at the hands of a creative and powerful God. My mother chose my name; she had the power to do that. But she had no way of knowing whether that name would suit me, whether I'd appreciate the rarity of it, whether it would fit nicely with the last name of my one-day husband (Trust me, I've heard some really interesting match-ups!). God knows everything about His children. When He formed us, He formed us with a purpose and for that purpose --His glory. He designed the DNA within us to reflect both of our parents. (People always told me how much I look like my mom. My response was always, "You should have seen my dad.") Each of us was made with thoughts our Heavenly Father understands and words our Heavenly Father knows before we say them. He has divinely appointed and constrained events throughout the days He has determined for us. He knows everything about us: our triggers, our dreams, our weaknesses, our fears, and our joys. He sees us at all times, everywhere we go. Even the parts of ourselves we deny or the ones of which we are unaware, He knows. He thinks innumerable thoughts of favor toward us, and He will guide us where we need to go. But we have to be His children.

God isn't going around blessing and favoring and protecting and maturing those who deny Him any more than my mother could go around naming the children in our neighborhood. His favor (and His discipline as well) is for His children, those who are uniquely His. Are there those who reject the God of the Bible who are rich or famous or happy in their relationships? Absolutely, but they're not the people I want to be when the fat lady sings --or even when she's just warming up, to be honest. Where is their blessing coming from? I want the blessing of being God's child, of finding my name written not on a beanie or a bookbag, but in the Lamb's Book of Life. I pray you do, too.

Midweek: Love of Enemies

The following segment on forgiveness and loving our enemies is from Jean Vanier's book, Becoming Human:

The love of one's enemy is at the heart of the Christian message. Jesus says forcefully, "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, speak well of those who speak badly of you, and pray for those who abuse you." (Luke 6:27-28)

Jesus' words were spoken in Galilee, near Lake Tiberias. For many centuries the Jewish peopla had been overrun by foreign powers: first by the Babylonians, then by the Persians, later by the Greeks, and then by the Romans. The Jewish people, naturally, hated this foreign domination. Crushed in their dignity and freedom, they sought liberation...

Sometime after the birth of Christ, a certain Judas Ezechias led a powerful revolt in Galilee that was crushed by the Romans. Flavius Josephus, a Jewish historian of the first century, tells us that in retaliation for the revolt, the Roaman crucified two thousand Galileans. And now Jesus is telling the Galileans to love their enemies! To pray for those who abuse and crush them! Imagine their anger! "No! I hate the Romans! I want to kill them!" you can hear them say. "They crucified my father, my brother, my son, my uncle...." When we read Jesus' words in such a context an invitation to love our enemies might seem idealistic or even sentimental. For the Galileans, Jesus' words could seem like provocation, the words of a coward, someone frightened of violence and confrontation. They might even think of Jesus as an agent of the Romans trying to dampen the true aspirations of the Jewish people for freedom.

But Jesus was...making a promise of transformation and inner liberation that, if it had been received, could have transformed the history of the world....

"Enemy" is a very strong word. It generally refers to those who are in a state of war. It can also be used to describe groups of individuals who oppress others, who shackle their freedom and prevent their growth. Because "enemy" is such a strong term, it's easy for us to deny that we have enemies. But...enemies...can be much simpler, much closer to home. An enemy is someone who stands in the way of our freedom, dignity, and capacity to grow and to love, someone whom we avoid or with whom we refuse to communicate....

In order to enter the path of forgiveness, we have to lose our feelings of both superiority and inferiority. Each of us has hurt another, each of us has been hurt. And so we must take responsibility for our lives as well as for the future....

To forgive means to believe that each of us can evolve and change, that human redemption is possible....

To forgive means to yearn for unity and peace. Unity is the ultimate treasure. It is the place where, in the garden of humanity, each one of us can grow, bear fruit, and give life.

Jesus' invitation to love one's enemies must have appeared dangerously utopian to the Galileans. Maybe it was only when they saw him standing up to the religious leaders of his day, pursuing a courageous and dangerous course for love, truth, and the liberation of the oppressed, that some began to understand that this was a new way to struggle for peace and to break the seemingly unending chain of human oppression, Loving our enemies means to see them as individuals who are perhaps caught up in a cycle of fear, and oppression, and in their character traits and need for power, but who are individuals nonetheless and are, beneath everything, sacred and precious. Their secret person is hidden behind walls of fear. To love them is to hope and yearn that instead of living a form of self-destruction, locked up in their own pride and power, they can be liberated.

~ Jean Vanier, Becoming Human

Thirsty for Love

What does love look like? I mean, this week is Valentine's Day, right? Time to buy flowers and chocolates, maybe a card and some jewelry. Time to plan a romantic outing with the one you love or shower your favorite children with sweets and stuffies. When my children were small, I'd invite my mom and have a fun dinner with handmade placemats on the table and garlands of hearts strung across the entrances of the dining room. I'd hang lights in the window and dress up our boring old sofa with fluffy red pillows. One year, I even invited some of our friends --couples --I wanted to celebrate their marriages. Pausing to be with those we love and recognize our relationships is important. Love deserves to be celebrated. But is it always flowers and special dinners?

In John 4, Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at Jacob's Well. He asks her for a drink, and the conversation begins. She looks at His skin, His features. He is a Jewish man, she a Samaritan woman. The two do not socialize. He says He has water for her. She looks at His empty hands; He has no bucket with which to draw water. He says it is living water: the one who partakes of it will never thirst again. She looks at the hot sun above. Shame causes her to draw water in the heat of the day when others are not at the well. The promise of never having to come to this place again entices her: she thirsts for this water. 

Go, call your husband, and come here --Jesus' words to this woman who has had five husbands and is now living with a man. Shame. I usually wince when I get to this part. Jesus has plainly, forthrightly called her out. The nice Jesus who so graciously offered her water that would satisfy to the point of never thirsting again, has suddenly turned on her, exposing the very shame that has kept her from interacting with the others who require water from this well. How could You, Jesus? I want to know.

Because He loves her.

Every well must be dug, even the well into which living water is to be poured. This woman who wanted so badly to have what Jesus offered could not see past her human needs, her earthly circumstances to understand just what it was He was holding out to her. She looked at His features, she looked at His empty hands, she looked at the scorching sun. But He wanted her to see, the water He provided for her would fill her heart, her very soul, and she would never thirst again. But first, the well must be dug. Through layers of shame and infamy, through the overburden of unforgiveness and the mire of ungodly behaviors, through the murkiness of selfish, worldly thoughts, and through the bedrock of anger and rebellion. This is what Jesus was doing. He had begun to dig. 

Sometimes love needs deeper inquiry than How is your day? or Would you like to come for dinner? Sometimes love asks the difficult questions and places a mirror where a garland of hearts seems more pleasant. Sometimes love dredges up rather than dresses up. Sometimes love isn't sweet or stuffy, but nauseating and prickly. But love, when it bestows on others what they cannot give themselves, when it brings life eternal and everlasting joy, that is the love of an infinite God. And it is something for which we were all made to thirst.