Cat Gravity

I have a stalker!

Lest you worry for my safety, let me reassure you that I'm in no danger.  You see, my stalker is just my cat, Brownie.  But the last few months, she follows me around in a devoted way that borders on the obsessive.  If I sit at my computer, she insists on being in my lap.  If I sit on the love seat, she wants to perch on the arm next to me.  If I stretch out on the sofa, she wants to lay beside me, and when I lie down in bed, she wants to situate herself on the pillow right next to my head!   No matter where in my house I go or what I'm doing, if I stay in the same place for even a little while, I can look up and notice Brownie somewhere near.

She seems to want nothing but to be near me.  Sure, sometimes she seems to want to soak up some of my body heat, and sometimes she's hoping for a cat treat.  But more often than not, she just wants to be close.  I never knew I was so fascinating! Sometimes I joke with my husband that I must have "cat gravity" - some  irresistible force that pulls the cat into my orbit.

It occurs to me that this is how we should be in our devotion to God - doing whatever it takes to be close, "stalking" God.  Sure, sometimes we turn to God hoping to feel his love, and sometimes we seek God to make our requests.  But most of the time, we should be seeking him just to be close.

God is quite fascinating, after all.  Who better is there to be devoted to?  Surely no celebrity or public figure or business tycoon is nearly so fascinating as our God, creator of the universe, and creator of each of us.  God can speak to the deepest desires of our hearts and provide for our most profound needs in ways no human can.

Why, then, do we so often forget God?  Why do we so often turn to our fellow creatures and creation itself with our devotion, instead of to God?  Why can God's presence sometimes feel so remote and hidden from us?    If I have "cat gravity", then God should have "people gravity" like nobody's business, right? And we should all readily fall into "orbit" near God if we just once get close enough to be captured by the "gravity field" of his awesome presence.  Right?

But God doesn't want us to follow him mindlessly, simply because of the overwhelming nature of his greatness, as though pulled by an irresistible force like gravity.  God wants us to choose him, to love him - yes, even to stalk him!  God loves noting more than to see his children do all in their power to be close to him.

So, just forget about passively waiting around for God to draw you in with his "gravity."  Instead, set out to seek him, to find him, and to stalk him!

You will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart. (Jer. 29:13) 

How will you stalk God today?

What's in a Name?

My daughter (who was has been both Girl Scout and Girl Scout Camp counselor) tells me that these days, all the counselors have "camp names".  The camp name is a nickname, most kinda silly, to give the counselors a bit of privacy along with a certain air of mystery.  The counselors generally choose these names for themselves, and they tend to be things that are somehow descriptive, like "Poptart" for the counselor who swears she could live on Poptarts,  or "Splash" who runs the pool, or "Scarlet" with the bright red hair.

I was a Girl Scout who loved summer resident camp, and got the chance to work as a counselor one summer at my favorite camp.  Back in my camp days, though, not all the counselors had camp names, and camp names were earned or otherwise given by the other counselors.  Sure, the names might still be quite descriptive like they are now, but you didn't just choose one for yourself.  There would be an incident to inspire the name, or perhaps a simple observation that suggested a name, or a name you brought with you from past summers - SOMETHING!  And I've always been a little sad that I was one of those unfortunates who never inspired a camp name.  I was always just Linda, not Princess Moonbeam, or Smurfette, or Little Gray Pigeon, or something otherwise fun or intriguing.  And I've always felt that made me somehow "less."

Names are important, after all.  We are each identified by a name of some sort, and baggage that comes with your particular string of syllables will color your view of the world.  Whether common or unusual, simple or a nightmare to spell, connecting you with fine upstanding citizens or folks who's manner of living can't withstand the light of day - whatever your name, it helps you understand who you are and your place in the world.

A name given in infancy, however, can convey only so much about a person.  That's why there's something extra-special about a name bestowed in (more-or-less) adulthood, like the camp name.  A name GIVEN by someone who knows you implies relationship and care.  And I guess that's what saddened me about not having been given a camp name: the implication that no one I served with that summer either knew me well enough or cared enough to give me a name.

However, I think my lack of a camp name says more about my own introverted nature than anything ill-natured or lacking in my fellow counselors.  We introverts don't  readily share ourselves with just any-old-body, and the fewer people there are who really know you, the less likely you are to be given another name.  But we can take heart, because God knows everyone, to the deepest recesses of the heart.

God knows who you are - because He made you.  And He knows what you'll accomplish - because he exists outside of the constraints of time.  And God has a habit of giving people new names to better reflect who they are or what they will accomplish.  Abram and Sarai became Abraham and Sarah, Simon became Peter, and Saul became Paul, to mention just a few of the most notable examples.  When God claims you, God names you!

My name may still be "Linda" as far as I and the world knows.  But Jesus knows my heart and soul, and has a new name for me.  I long for the day when it shall be revealed to me, when I meet my Maker and Savior, and He reveals to me who He has intended me to be since before the foundations of the world were laid.

"I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it." (Revelation 2:17)

Take comfort, you lonely ones - Jesus knows your name!

A Song of Ascents

I’ve been here before.

I’ve been to this place before.  The landscape is familiar.  I know there’s a deep valley beyond that gentle, tree-covered rise, and that the path from here to there has several stony places and a muddy spot.  I recognize even the smell of the place.  I’ve been here before, at this place where all seems loss and vague sorrow, lonliness for something I can’t describe, wanting I-know-not-what. 

I know exactly what I’ve done when I’ve been here before.  The wanting sends me searching, and I head across the meadow, into the woods, along the well-worn path over the rise, and then down into the deep, deep valley beyond - the valley that seems so easy to walk down into, but which is such a struggle to get back up out of.   The path down into that deep dark valley is almost a joy to tread.  It’s cut into the steep and cliff-like valley wall, and it seems a great adventure.  Gravity pulls me down, and I walk faster than I think.  I don’t realize how far I’ve descended until I finally turn back and look with dismay at the hilltop so far above, so very tiny.  Have I really come so far already?

And now the wanting that drove me onward has left.  There is no longer a spur for my travels.  The climb back up is no adventure.  It’s hard work.  And fear.  The path that seemed so broad on the way down looks narrow and treacherous on the way back up, the distance nearly too much to contemplate.  Perhaps I’ll just take up residence here in this dark valley – it would be so much easier to live here, perched on the side of this rocky cliff, than to find the strength and will to climb back out.  Why, oh why did I come here? 

If I had known this was my destination, I never would have set out.  Would I?  But there’s the rub.  I’ve been here many times before, but every time is the same – I head down that same familiar path as though the end will turn out differently this time.  Yes – surely it will end well THIS time, surely I'll find what I'm searching for when I descend...  But, no, the end is always pain and sorrow, and a certain confusion at finding myself, again, so far from what I thought I wanted.  

But this time, my visit to this familiar country will be different.  As I look toward the path I know, toward that little rise and the valley beyond, I am remembering the difficulty of the return, the despair of ever leaving that deep, dark place.  The comfort of the familiar path, the feeling of adventure on the way down does not seem so appealing this time. 

I pause.  I consider.  I still want... I-know-not-what.  I’m still feeling lonely and alone with a vague sense of sorrow clinging to me like a fine mist.  I need to do something, ANYTHING, to leave this feeling of unease and unrest behind, but today I think I’ll take another path.  As I pause and gaze about the landscape, I notice the barest hint of a path.  Just a few bent blades of grass, a few tiny spots of bare earth, a path so faint that I’m not sure its really a path and not some random trick of nature. 

Then I lift my eyes and see, in the far distance, a low haze.  What is that?  Looking more carefully, I can begin to make out the rugged shape of mountains, steep and sharp, rising from the earth in the distance.  This faint path, it seems, is heading to those lofty peaks.  To follow this path, however, will be no easy matter of letting gravity take its course.  Although the trail starts gently enough, I know great effort will be required to reach those lofty peaks.  But somehow, strangely, my desire for I-know-not-what grows and strengthens as I gaze at those misty heights in the distance.

Yes - this time, today, I shall set out on a different course.

A Song of Ascents.
I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the LORD,
who made heaven and earth.
He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, he who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
The LORD is your keeper;
the LORD is your shade on your right hand.
The sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.
The LORD will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
The LORD will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time forth and forevermore.  (Psalm 121)

The Quality of Light

Have you ever noticed what a marvelous thing light is?  Not only does light allow our eyes to function, so we may visually interact with the world around us.  But light can also perform little miracles of mood - injecting beauty or sorrow or joy or excitement or worry into a situation, just because of the quality of the light in a scene. Photographers and painters are particularly aware of this phenomenon, and I think any architect or home designer worth their salt considers carefully the effects of light in their planning.

I was especially struck by the quality of light at church this past Sunday.  I was assisting at the altar, and happened to glance behind me toward the flower arrangements that sit on shelves on the wall behind the altar.   Rosy morning light, filtered and tinted by the stained glass above, was gently illuminating the arrangement in a most stunning manner!

 The arrangement itself was quite simple for Lent - just branches from (I think) a magnolia tree.  But the light caught the few blossoms that had started to come out and they simply glowed.  Stunning!  The arrangement on the other side of the altar made a striking contrast.  No special light fell on that vase, and the branches of that arrangement were dead and bare - no flowers, no light, no life!

And that got me to thinking about one of the readings from earlier in the service:

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord. Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light. This is why it is said: “Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” (Ephesians 5:8-14, NIV 2011)

Those two arrangements - one in the sunlight, with flowers and life, tinted with a wholesome glow, and one not in sunlight, barren and dead-looking - are a perfect metaphor and illustration of living in the light versus living in darkness.  I'm pretty sure both vases of branches were about the same when they were prepared by the altar guild.  Yet one group of branches was bathed in light that drew forth the potential within, the flowers, the life.  And the other group, without light, not only didn't blossom, but also lost its potential to ever do so.

The light of Christ's presence can inspire growth and regeneration in even those parts of our lives that might seem the barest, driest branches of ourselves.  But the power of the Light of Jesus is greater.  All we need to do is expose ourselves - all our deepest darkest, most hidden corners - to that Gracious Light.  And Jesus will slowly, surely begin to bring forth life and growth.  

"Everything that is illuminated becomes a light."  Shine forth, my friends!

Are You a Reliquary?

A couple of weeks ago, I went to the Walters Gallery in Baltimore to see an exhibit called "Treasures of Heaven:  Saints, Relics and Devotion in Medieval Europe."  The exhibit was filled with intriguing items, mostly reliquaries of one sort or another.  A reliquary is "a container of relics," and a relic "may be the physical remains of saints, such as bones, pieces of clothing, or some object associated with saints or other religious figures."  (Sadly, most of the reliquaries in the exhibit no longer contain a relic.)

Arm reliquary, on display in the
 "Treasures of Heaven" exhibit.

Some of the reliquaries were rather plain in shape or decoration, most were elaborately decorated even if simple and shape, and some of the later ones were crafted to resemble the part they once housed, like the arm reliquary pictured to the right that once contained part of an arm-bone.  The objects were intriguing to look at, and intriguing to reflect on the notion that a finger-bone of St. So-and-So or a sliver of The True Cross might have some miraculous properties.  I'm not quite sure what I think about the veneration of such relics, but that's not why I'm writing today.

I'm writing about relics today, because it occurred to me that in some sense, Christians ARE reliquaries!  At one point in the display, the exhibit preparers suggest that a relic is what is left after death and decay, and invited people to write about what constitutes relics and reliquaries in their own lives and experience.  Reflecting on that question, I noticed that as Christians, the Holy Spirit is what we have left after Jesus' death (and resurrection and ascension into heaven).  So in some sense, the Holy Spirit is a relic.  And if the Holy Spirit is a relic, and that relic dwells in us, then that makes us RELIQUARIES!

a very plain reliquary

So, are YOU a reliquary?  Have you confessed Jesus as Savior and invited the Holy Spirit to dwell in your heart?  If not, I invite you to consider John 3:16 and Romans 10:9-13 as a starting point on your faith journey.

Rock-crystal reliquary,
so the relic can be viewed

And if you are a reliquary, then what kind of reliquary are you?  Some reliquaries are made so that the relic inside can be displayed to the faithful.  Other reliquaries have their relic secreted out of sight, and its presence is a matter of trust.  Some reliquaries are shaped to resemble the relic inside (like the arm reliquary above), others are not explicitly related to the relic inside.

elaborately decorated reliquary

Considering this reliquary metaphor for the Christian life, I don't think one type of reliquary is superior to another except for this: it is important that whatever type of reliquary we are, it should be obvious that there is something holy and set-apart about each of us.  No matter how plain and ordinary, or how extravagantly beautiful we are as "reliquaries of Christ," it should somehow be apparent that we are set apart for a special use, in the world but not of it.  Can others identify that "set-apart" quality in you?

=======================
"Treasures of Heaven" will remain at the Walters Gallery through May 15, 2011, if you want to go see the reliquaries for yourself.  In addition to this special exhibit, the gallery also has a large permanent collection of medieval religious art and artifacts (mostly Christian).  Here are links to the Walters Gallery (to plan a visit), and for the "Treasures of Heaven" exhibit.

Hunters & Gatherers

My brother came to visit last week, to hunt for deer on our little parcel of Virginia.  He's a skilled and experienced hunter who relies on the deer season to both stretch his grocery dollar and to satisfy his taste for venison.  Due to a series of unfortunate circumstances, he had only gotten one deer while hunting back home in Pennsylvania. While I welcomed his visit it made me rather anxious, worrying that the deer I saw so frequently would be elsewhere while my brother was here.  I didn't want him to go home empty handed after 150 miles of driving!

Although he saw many deer, he'd still had no success by the beginning of the last evening's hunt.  Then finally, at dark, I heard him return to the house and with apprehension went to see how things had gone.... He got one! Hooray!  It wasn't the giant deer he'd seen within the first moments of his first day's hunting, and it was only one deer, but it was a respectably-sized creature, a buck, and as my brother said to me, it was "the one I was supposed to have."   Then followed the gutting, and the dragging, and the cutting and packing into the cooler of the venison.  It was all quite exciting, and everyone was happy - and relieved!

My brother's comment about this deer being the one he was supposed to have, got me to thinking about God's providence.  As I said, my brother is a good hunter, and that's not just my sisterly bias.  All who know him would say the same.  And yet, he still had only one deer to his credit before his visit.  Despite the hours and days spent hunting, carefully, patiently waiting and watching, still he had little success. What was up with that?

Well, what's up is that God gives us what we're supposed to have.  Those who hunt and gather from nature, I think, are more tuned in to the truth that all things come from God.  All the hunting experience and skill in the world is not going to guarantee a kill, nor will foolish carelessness ensure that you'll never bring home meat.  God provides.  Skill and experience make the whole thing easier, but ultimately its God's providence that allows hunters to bring home the venison.

The fact of God's providence is more apparent to hunters than to herders, and to foragers than to farmers.  Because they are involved in so many more parts of the process - feeding and breeding and tending their animals - herders are more likely to think that the success of their livestock is merely the natural result of their good husbandry.  Similarly, farmers who plant and weed and water a field to grow a crop are more likely than foragers (who roam the woods and fields gathering wild plants) to see a bountiful harvest as nothing more than than the fruit of their hard work.

And when we step back even farther in the process and consider the majority of us, who's only regular experience with  "hunting and gathering" is in the retail setting of grocery or department store, it's even easier to see our bounty as nothing more than the natural and inevitable result of our own skill and hard work.

We work at jobs and earn money.  We take our money to the store and buy what we want.  Unless you are foolish enough to be shopping for milk and toilet paper on the eve of Snow-mageddon, you ARE going to find what you set out to buy.  Americans in general have plenty of money, and the county I live in (Loudoun, VA) has the dubious honor of being one of the wealthiest counties in the nation.  We have plenty of money and more than enough stuff to buy with it.

This way of life makes it easy to forget that everything we have has come to us as a gift of God's grace.

"All things come of Thee, and of Thine own have we given Thee." (KJV, 1 Chronicles, 29:14b)
"Everything comes from You, and we have given You only what comes from Your hand." (NIV) 

If you think about it, though, everything truly comes from God.  He knit us together in our mother's womb with our various traits and tendencies.  He placed us in a family with particular people to train and nurture us. God placed skills and talents in each of us, and gave us opportunities to use and develop them.  Both the corporate executive and the backwoods hunter are equally beholden to God for their ability to make a living.

I invite you to spend 24 hours intentionally looking at your life with the eyes of a humble hunter or a grateful gatherer.  Notice all the things you take for granted, as the fruit of your labors, and think back through the steps that gave you the ability or opportunity to have those things in the first place.  Thank God for the great bounty that He, not you, has provided.

Fire and Ash

On sunny days at certain seasons, rays of sunlight will pass through the stained glass windows behind the altar of St. Peter's Church and land in columns of color on the wall during the worship service.  I love gazing at the stripes of gemstone colors - something beautiful on which to fix my eyes while singing or listening or praying.

Last week the effect was particularly striking, and one patch of color gathered up the reds and cast upon the wall  a slender tongue of flame some three feet tall.  It was stunningly beautiful, and my first thought was of the tongues of flame at Pentecost.  "They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them." (Acts 2:3)  I kept hoping that the priest or an acolyte or somebody would walk between me and that tongue of flame, so that it would look like fire had come to rest on them.  Alas, I was disappointed, and after 10 or 15 minutes the position of the sun changed and the fire was gone except in memory.

But it has proved a potent memory, one I keep going back to, perhaps because Ash Wednesday is nearly upon us.  In the Ash Wednesday liturgy, we are reminded that we are formed from dust, and ashes are marked on the forehead with the words, "remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."  The contrast of fire and ash is so very rich...

The creation story in Genesis tells how God created Adam from the dust of the earth.  God formed Adam, but he was not alive until God breathed into him the spark of life.  What's the different between "ash" and "Adam?" The difference is the presence of "Life" - God's holy fire, the spark the makes the difference between a dead sculpture and a living human being.

Ordinary fire consumes.  Fuel is required to maintain the blaze, and when the fuel runs out, the fire goes out, leaving nothing but charred, dead ash.  God's fire, however, burns without consuming, without destroying, like the time when God appeared to Moses in a burning bush.  "There the angel of the LORD appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up." (Exodus 3:2)

Our passions are often described as fire, and its in our passions that the difference between natural fire and God's Holy fire is, I think, most evident.  Natural passions consume us.  They must be fed or they die, burning us up (and burning us out) in the process!  How many lives have been ruined trying to maintain a passion at all costs?   Charlie Sheen is in the headlines now for the flaming wreck he's made of his life by pursuing his various "passions."  But how many others have burned themselves up away from the public eye, pursuing more "noble" passions of career, children, hobby, wealth, beauty, health, and on and on and on.

The passions God gives us - the ones that are focused on God, motivated by God's love of us, fueled by awe of Him - those passions will set us ablaze without being consumed.  Much like Jesus at the Transfiguration, God's light will shine forth from us like spiritual fire, giving light and life to those around us.  And not a hair on our heads will be so much as singed in the process!  

What passions do you burn with?  Do they consume you, using you up, leaving a pile of dead ashes?  Or do they fill you with the life of God, burning but no consumed, fueled by God's powerful love?  Lent is a great time to take a look at your life and your passions, see what gives light and life, and what merely consumes, and consider whether changes are in order.

"I invite you, therefore, ... to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God's holy Word."  (BCP, p. 265)

Lenten Discipline or Lenten Discipleship?

Lent will soon be upon us - the penitential season of "giving things up" that begins on Ash Wednesday - March 9th this year - and extends to Holy Saturday (the day before Easter).  That's 40 days, not counting the Sundays. 

Why would anyone bother to do such a thing?  Well, Lent is a season for self examination, self discipline, and self denial as we prepare for Holy Week, that intensive scrutiny of Jesus' suffering and death, followed by the unexpected joy of his resurrection on Easter.  Holy Week and Easter are the absolute pinnacle of Christian religious observances, and warrant careful preparation.  


People often give up candy & sweets, chocolate, deserts, wine, a weekly meal, coffee, television, or similar pleasures during Lent.  But the manner in which many folk choose and follow their "Lenten Discipline" often misses the purpose of the exercise.  "Giving up" something for Lent isn't primarily about punishing ourselves, even though that's how many people view it.  There is no inherent virtue in denying ourselves, and we run the risk of becoming proud and self-sufficient, as English spiritual writer and mystic William Law (1686-1761) points out: 

Many people not only lose the benefit, but are even the worse for their mortifications [i.e., sacrifices, abstensions], ... because they mistake the whole nature and worth of them: they practice them for their own sakes, as things good in themselves, they think them to be real parts of holiness, and so rest in them and look no further, but grow full of a self-esteem and self-admiration for their own progress in them. This makes them self-sufficient, morose, severe judges of all those that fall short of their mortifications. And thus their self-denials do only that for them which indulgences do for other people: they withstand and hinder the operation of God upon their souls, and instead of being really self-denials, they strengthen and keep up the kingdom of self.

So, done wrong, "giving up" something for Lent can actually move us AWAY from the Kingdom of God and TOWARD the kingdom of self.  Yikes!


We'll have better results from "giving up" something for Lent if we keep in mind that our Lenten discipline is meant to improve our discipleship.  Whatever you choose to give up should encourage your discipleship - your life in Christ.  If you take something away, it needs to somehow add to your relationship with Jesus.  


Giving up television or skipping a meal clearly leaves additional time in your day that you could spend in Bible reading or prayer or meditation.  But what about something like giving up candy?  That's not really going to gain you any time in your day - unless you have a serious candy-eating problem!  However, every time you notice that you're yearning for the candy-coated, chocolaty, sweet deliciousness of an MnM (for example), you can use that as a reminder to turn you heart and mind to the Lord in prayer. 


That is where denying ourselves will improve discipleship: by adding reminders (with every hunger pang or craving) to turn to God.   Of course, we can add discipleship without giving up specific things.  You can add the discipline of daily prayer or study or Bible reading, etc., without also skipping the candy.  


I haven't decided my Lenten discipline yet for this year - whether or not I'll be giving up anything, and what discipleship endeavor I'll be adding.  I'd love to hear whether you observe the season of Lent, and what discipline you'll be taking on.  Please post your comments!  

Rock Tumbler, part 2: Rocks vs. Tomatoes

I've been thinking more about the rock tumbler (see my previous post from 2/12/11), and I feel I need to offer a bit more clarification.  Taking a spin in the rock tumbler, and coming out smoother and more polished, is something we do with our fellow Christ-followers.  Its a thing that will work when we are in relationship with people whose ultimate good intentions we trust, despite the rough edges and sharp corners we may encounter.

The rock tumbler works in Christian community because we are all made of similar "stuff."  We are all children of God, followers of Jesus, and in-dwelt by the Holy Spirit.  That identity makes us intrinsically different from others - as different in substance as a rock and a tomato.    

Here's a little thought experiment to consider.  What do you think would happen if you put a handful of tomatoes and a handful of rough, un-tumbled rocks into a rock tumbler?  With each turn of the drum, the rough patches and jagged edges of the rocks would  tear at the tomato's skin.  And with each subsequent revolution, the hard density of the rocks would bruise and then pulverize the soft fleshy tomatoes.

After a while, you'd have rough jagged rocks coated in tomato sauce!  The rocks are not improved, and the poor tomatoes have been destroyed.  Not a pretty picture, to be sure.  And even well-smoothed rocks will eventually pulverize tomatoes into sauce.

My purpose in considering this imaginary conflict between rock and tomato, is to point out that we need to know who we're dealing with when we encounter difficult people and are in conflict with others.  I want to make clear that I am NOT advising to stay in conflict with anyone and everyone, but only with our fellow Christians who are made of similar stuff as ourselves.

In unequal conflict, sometimes we are the rock.  As a rock, I do not want to be making sauce out of the very tomatoes that I hope might be rocks one day!   On the other hand, sometimes we feel like the tomato - receiving cuts and crushing treatment from people of ill-intent.  To submit to such treatment from people who do not ultimately wish us well, does not serve to improve either us or them.

So wisdom and discernment is required.  Tumble with your fellow rocks, but watch out for the tomatoes!

Rock Tumbler

We bought a rock tumbler some years ago.  You take a handful of rough, un-lovely rocks and put them into the tumbler with some water and grit, and let them tumble.  After a week or two when you open up the tumbler, you'll find smoothed and polished stones, suitably beautiful for use in jewelry and craft projects.  The jagged edges are smoothed, the rough surfaces are polished, and the color and pattern of the substance of the rock is revealed.  The transformation is quite amazing!

Rough, jagged rocks.

The rock-tumbler process is just a concentrated version of what happens in the wilds of nature, in rushing mountain streams.  The rushing water carries fine sand and grit that continually strike against the rocks and pebbles in the stream bed.  From time to time, the force of the rushing water will move a rock, striking its neighbors with a resounding "clunk."  And after thousands of years of this sort of action, you wind up with beautifully smooth rocks and pebbles that are just a delight to touch!

Smooth stones after stream tumbling.

All this tumbling reminds me of what its like living in Christian community.  We are all stones and pebbles of varying shapes and sizes.  Like grit and sand, the small irritations that are part of life  continually bombard us.  Learning to respond gracefully to those irritations smooths our rough places.  But its when we knock into each other that the more serious reshaping takes place - when a jagged corner here or a sharp edge there get knocked off.  


Persevering in difficult relationships is a great source of growth!  I know because recently I've been experiencing it first hand.  By stepping back and removing ourselves from relationships that seem to be less than fulfilling, we cheat not only ourselves, but also the other person of the opportunity for growth and refining - of the chance to spin a few rounds in the rock tumbler together.  If our difficulties and conflicts are lubricated by the water of the Holy Spirit, everyone comes out smoother.  And with the increasing smoothness and polish, our true nature  as children of God becomes more and more apparent and visible.

Before & After

If there is a Christ-follower you have taken to avoiding because of conflict or difficulties between you, perhaps you might reconsider and re-engage with them.  The "rock tumbler" is by no means an instant process, but in the long run, you both are likely to be better for making the effort!


Proverbs says, "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." (Proverbs 27:17)  But I tell you this, "As one stone strikes against another, so one person smooths and polishes another."  Get out there and get tumbling!