Worth A Thousand Pictures

Look at Me. Look at the example I have set in how I've loved you and all of the others and follow my example. Follow my example. Love the world. Be Me to the world. Be Me to your neighbours. The woman across the road, the guy who lives downstairs. The kids who play on your lawn. Be Me to the vulnerable, the hungry, the oppressed. Be Me to the poor, the cold, the homeless, the lost. Be Me to the rich, the insulated, the sheltered, the lost. Be Me to the fearful, the sick, the lonely, the isolated, the recovering. To the educated, to the streetsmart, to the foolish. To the bruised, the bleeding, the calloused, the rough, the tough, the abrasive. Be Me to the stubborn, the unappreciative, the ungrateful, the dismissive. To the takers. To the users. To the ones who have raised themselves up, the ones who have made themselves as small as possible or who have been made small. Be Me to the almost there, the almost gone. To the empty, the misunderstanding, the suspicious, the condescendin

Traditions. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, they just keep on coming. One of mine, this season, is watching “It’s a Wonderful Life” (something my husband doesn’t share). Black and white, sappy, some rather creative theology. A Tradition. George Bailey is the goodest Good Guy in the entire history of the world (OK, second goodest). Small town George dreams of travel, saves his pennies, buys a huge suitcase and sets his face into the wind. At the last possible moment, duty calls and he, being a Good Guy, unflinchingly sacrifices his dreames and his pennies to stay in his little town to serve family and community. This happens several times. You’d think he’d learn. In one scene, George and his uncle are waiting at the station for his brother to come home from college. Hearing a distant whistle, George asks, "Do you know what the three best sounds in the world are?" "Breakfast is served, lunch is served, dinner is serv…" "No, no,” George interrupts, “Anchor chains, plane mot

You know the ones? They look like an explosion at the pixel factory, unless you stand just so far away and refocus your eyes just right and for just long enough that a 3-D panorama leaps out, thrilling and amazing all. Except me. I can’t do it. I’ve tried starting with my nose almost touching the glass and slowly backing away. I’ve tried gently relaxing the muscles in my eyes . I’ve tried defocusing, unfocusing, disfocusing -- everything. My husband and kids go from one to the next, saying, “Hey, cool! This one’s a cow! This one’s a space ship! This one’s the ceiling of St. Peter’s Basilica, complete with Michelangelo, paintbrush in hand!” I’m still standing there crossed-eyed and headachy looking at an explosion at the pixel factory. I think it would have been better if I didn’t know. At face value, they’re visually interesting; a collage of images and colours, almost a pattern, but not quite. I could enjoy them that way. But I do know and I’m missing something. Something my family s

Mental exercise. Imagine it’s Thanksgiving Day. You’re seated at the table at home with your family. You’re looking at the biggest feast you’ll have all year. It’s nice and warm inside, snappy cold outside. The house smells wonderful and all of your favourite relatives are there. The Thanksgiving service yesterday was great. Fantastic music, good sermon. Got the picture? OK. Time for some cut and paste. Cut the turkey, potatoes, gravy, stuffing, salads, pie and all of the food on the table. Paste in spicy chicken, rice, dumplings, stir fried vegetables and fresh fruit. Cut your house and paste in one that’s half the size or smaller. Or a 3 bedroom apartment containing 6 beds. Cut the new dining room suite and paste an old table and a bunch of chairs that don’t match. Cut your TV(s), VCR(s), DVD(s), computer(s), game system(s), stereo(s), iPod(s), portable(s) and paste one small b&w TV and an AM/FM radio. Cut the local Christian radio station and paste silence. Look around the roo

I was thinking about Peter Pan. Remember the time he lost his shadow when he was caught by Nana, the dog? How he hunted for it and found it and tried so hard to stick it back on with soap? How thrilled he was when Wendy came to the rescue with her sewing kit? Imagine that. Imagine waking up one morning and finding that you had no shadow. I find this thought inordinately disconcerting. I’d wonder whether I still existed. I’d wonder whether my body had somehow lost its grip on the 4-dimensional world and no longer belonged here. I’d be very self-conscious and uncertain and wonder what people would think. I’d stay home during the day and avoid the mall. I’d find it tremendously distracting, looking at the ground and at the wall and wherever I’d want my shadow to be. I’d probably stumble a lot and walk into things. After all, what is a shadow? It’s the proof of your substantiality. It says, “I’m here. I may not have much influence, but I can affect this one small thing.” My shadow is the p

Hey, all. I thought you might enjoy this. r A very short play by Paul Wilkinson King David, dressed in robes and crown, is sitting on his throne holding a clipboard and writing. A servant enters to interrupt... SERVANT: King David, Asaph is here as you requested. DAVID: Send him in. [Servant exits. Asaph enters and bows] DAVID: Thank you for coming, Asaph. ASAPH: Your excellency... [bows] DAVID: I wanted to go over the worship for the Sabbath. ASAPH: "Go over?" DAVID: Yes, review the songs we will be singing. ASAPH: But surely, the Spirit of the Lord only reveals those to you as we are at worship. How can we know this now? DAVID: Actually, I've been giving that some thought and it occurred to me that if the Spirit of God can inspire us as we worship Him, truly can He not also inspire us to choose those songs a few days ahead? ASAPH: But...we've never done it this way before. DAVID: You'll get used to it. [Looks at clipboard] So I thought we'd begin with, &quo

Take a hike. Take a walk this time of year. All those leaves that were way up there just days ago are now underfoot. Kick them. Pick up a handful and smell them. Smell the story they tell you of change that is coming whether you are ready for it or not. Do you know any babies? Nephew, neighbour, daughter? Hold her in your arms. Feel the weight and the warmth. Feel the story she tells you of innocence, of trust, of fierce love and protection. Go to the kitchen right now and bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies. I'll wait 'til you get back. Eat one while it is still warm and soft and messy. Taste the story it tells you of richness, of home, of comfort. Pick up the phone and call your favourite person. Get the answering machine. Listen to that voice and hear the story it tells you of friendship and happiness and connection. Look another person in the eye. Someone you like, or someone you don't. In that moment of shared recognition, see the story it tells you of laughter or f