The gift of God's presence

This week in Waiting for Water we are exploring Acts 1 and 2, where God gives his presence to the disciples through the Holy Spirit. For those of us living in Westernized countries inculcated with scientific materialism, the Holy Spirit is a difficult aspect of God to embrace, even if we are believers.

As we go about our daily lives, it is easy to forget that we are not just a particular cluster of blood, brain, and bone called "human." What is a spirit, anyway? It cannot be detected by scientific instruments or medicated by the pharmaceutical industry, yet most of us feel nonetheless that we are more than just bodies. We are, as C.S. Lewis put it, immortal beings. And if we forget that, much of the Bible won't make any sense, and much of the world won't either.

I have been places, especially outside the Western world, where the presence of something beyond myself was palpable. I have danced with Ugandan women and felt a dam break inside, followed by torrents of joy. I have watched white and black pastors kneeling together, asking for and receiving forgiveness, on a coliseum floor and felt as if heaven was intersecting earth. My guess is you have experienced these things too, or something quite like them. But did you recognize them for what they were--gifts of God's presence, his Spirit reaching out to touch our own?

Image courtesy of Wikipedia

Humans have spirits; we are spiritual beings. And if we pay attention, we can catch glimpses of the world that exists outside what we can see, taste, touch, hear, and smell. Like the disciples, we may find ourselves experiencing what we never before imagined: the rush and fire of God's presence.

Taking Root

On Easter Sunday, instead of the usual hellos, some followers of Jesus greet each other like this:

“He is risen!”

“He is risen indeed!”

I could use that reminder, not just on Easter but on all the days and weeks which come after. Like Jesus’ followers who walked miles by his side without recognizing him or hid in locked rooms, unable to believe he might have risen, my belief grows slowly. It wilts and then spurts upward at uneven intervals, but still—something has taken root.

With me, enjoy the following story taken from this week’s W4W Bible study. It is from a partner of Lifewater International working in a country where, for security reasons, names and details are withheld.

Image courtesy of Carleton Garden

“Easter is always significant in the life of believers, but it was particularly significant for me in 2010. About 6 months earlier, at the start of the project, we had hired a woman I will refer to as Sara. Sara has an 8th grade education, is of the ethnic group considered lowest on the totem pole here, and is very poor. She is 26 years old, has been married for 10 years and is the mother of 2 precious girls. She is also an incredibly gifted learner with a zeal for life and a vision for change in this country.

“Because of Sara’s struggles to survive in this place, she had a bit of a shell around her when she first joined us …. We began to build relationship slowly and, although she never seemed particularly comfortable with “religious” conversations, we felt Easter was going to be an open door for us to share more freely.

“As Easter approached, we introduced the idea of an Easter party for the women at our office. We prepared and prayed and hoped they would come. That morning, after celebrating with other expats in a sunrise service, we received Sara and her daughters as well as other female co-workers into our home for an Easter celebration. We talked about various traditions surrounding the holiday, played games with the children, ate good food and enjoyed each other’s company, but the best part came when we got to share the story of Easter. We first shared it in word and then I was able to sing them a song in their own language that tells the whole story. We prayed together in Jesus’ name.

“There was no immediate response to the story, and nobody has decided they want to follow Him yet. But it was a seed. As we work side by side, day by day, these women hear Truth. I listened to Sara and another of our hygiene trainers training another woman the other day. They described the first lesson they give the woman and explained, “We tell them how women are important and valued because God created them.” A piece of Truth they’ve heard and are now telling others in a country where there is otherwise little evidence of the worth of women. My prayer is that the seeds will take root, and I hang on to the promise that His Word does not return void.”

Why is it a Good Friday?

This week my children, six and three, have been formulating their strategies for securing the most candy at the Easter egg hunt. But they’ve also made time to interrogate me and each other about death, resurrection, heaven, and spaceships. A typical backseat conversation goes like this:

          
Three year old: “Where is heaven? Is it higher than outer space?”

Wise six year old: “I think so.”

Three year old: “If I can get a flying rocket ship house, I’m going to go there, and I’m going to see Jesus!” *Pause* “Is Jesus a real person?”

Wise older brother: “Yes, he is.”

Three year old: “How can he be alive if he’s also dead?” *Beginning to cry* “And why did Grandma Morling have to die and go to heaven?”

Ummm … Jump in any old time here, Mom.

“Sometimes it’s hard to know if it’s all true or not,” said my son, turning his gaze out the car window.

“Yes, it is,” I agreed.

On Tuesday we flew back from vacation. As we were getting ready to exit the packed aircraft, my three year old suddenly realized what death means. We hadn’t been talking about it, and the plane didn’t nearly fall out of the sky, but all the same: “Mommy, I don’t want you to die. Please don’t die,” she repeated, drawing looks from all the other passengers. “Will I die? I don’t want to die. Hug me!”

Just when I think I have it figured out, just when I think I understand what Jesus was doing here on Earth and what the message of Calvary and Easter is, my kids wallop me with these existential questions.

Are we more than our bodies? 

Do we continue to exist after death?

How can we exist without bodies?

Was Jesus’ death really enough to bail us all out of our guilt before God?

     How can Grandma Morling’s body be here in a grave while she is alive in heaven?

One time a Hindu friend asked me to explain the Easter story to her. I was driving through a mall parking lot at the time, and just before I went over a speed bump, she said, “Why do you call it Good Friday if Jesus died?”

Heavens to Betsy. How could I explain this cosmic plan to save the universe as I was cruising through a parking lot next to a cell phone store?

I told her the same thing I told my kids. I said Jesus’ death was a deliberate act, designed to un-pretzel us from all the ways we get twisted up and connect us again to our Maker. That it was followed by Easter morning, when he cheated death and promised this same power to all his followers—life after death, new bodies, second chances.  The gospel in a nutshell, the best way I understand it to date. And yep, I would say that’s pretty good.

“God’s personal visit”

In a scene from Leo Tolstoy’s sprawling novel, War and Peace, Napoleon’s army is sweeping through Russia and about to descend on a nobleman’s estate. The nobleman has just died, and his daughter, Princess Mary, offers free food and help in evacuating to the servants who work on the estate. But they refuse her offer. They even imprison her while Napoleon and his soldiers close in. Why? The servants didn’t see the bigger picture of what was happening in Russia at that time. They only wanted the security of staying at home.

In Luke 19:28-48, Jesus entered Jerusalem, marking the beginning of Passion Week. In the Message, Eugene Peterson calls this “God’s personal visit.” As always, the Pharisees missed the significance of this visit entirely, barking at Jesus, “Teacher, get your disciples under control!” (v. 39, The Message) When they saw him, many other people shouted hosannas and flung their coats into the road. How many, though, really looked with understanding at this tableau—God himself, riding a baby donkey down a dusty road into their midst?

Surrounded by people who misunderstood this moment, Jesus cried. Looking into the future, he saw the destruction of Jerusalem’s walls and the suffering of its inhabitants, “All this because you didn’t recognize and welcome God’s personal visit.” (v. 44) And again when he walked into the Temple, he found people busy setting up shops and crowding out worship.

This Passion Week, we have the opportunity to stop, to see God’s bigger story unfolding around us and welcome his personal visit. Like Princess Mary’s peasants and like the people around Jesus, though, I usually don’t grasp the significance of what’s in front of me. I’m too busy keeping order or conducting business or protecting my family’s security.

With David, let’s be alert to God’s presence and purpose in our midst this holy week:

“God’s love is meteoric,

    his loyalty astronomic,

His purpose titanic,

    his verdicts oceanic.

Yet in his largeness

    nothing gets lost;

Not a man, not a mouse,

    slips through the cracks. (Psalm 36:5-6)

P.S. Pastor Graham Baird of Highlands Church, one of our participating churches, has posted some great thoughts on Holy Week over on his personal blog; check it out!

Week two: Learning what it means to be blessed

This week we focus on the theme of learning who and what is blessed, drawing from Jesus' famous upside-down beatitudes in the Sermon on the Mount. Below is a story excerpted from the week's Bible study. Enjoy!

If there was a child in Melvin’s community who had more strikes against him, I don’t know who it was. Melvin was born in the middle of a string of children from different fathers to a mother who battled substance addiction. They lived in a tiny home near the railroad tracks and an abandoned mill. In a neighborhood of poor children, they were the poorest. On top of all that, Melvin had been born with developmental disabilities due to his mother’s drug use.

Melvin didn’t seem to be aware of his woes. He came faithfully to after-school club, smiling until his eyes disappeared and shouting “Hello, Miss Carol! Hello!” when he walked in the door. When the other children teased him, he frowned and gruffed at them to stop, but the frowns never stayed long. “I’m hungry, Miss Carol! I’m hungry!” he would shout. At snack time, he would joyfully, reverently eat his crackers and juice, savoring every crunch and sip. He connected deeply with colors and tastes, rubbing a piece of corduroy between his fingers or pushing a purple crayon deep into his paper.

Image courtesy of Kestutis Kasparavicius, Fine Art America

 

In October, Melvin began drawing pumpkins. Bright, lumpy orbs with green stems filled paper after paper, some with teeth and eyes. Then I began to receive gifts, pumpkin pictures left on my chair or desk. “To Miss Crol” they said, and were signed, “Melvin.” Halloween came and went, and still two, three, four gifts arrived daily. Finally the flow began to subside until I thought we were done with Melvin’s pumpkin phase. Then one afternoon he ran up to me, a flash of orange in his hand. “Here, Miss Carol,” he said. It was another pumpkin picture, addressed to me. But this time there was a message, printed in bold black crayon: “I love you, Miss Crol.” Melvin threw his arms around me and squeezed. “Thank you, Melvin.” I said. “Thank you for this wonderful gift.”

The moment

Week one of Waiting for Water focuses on the theme of meeting Jesus. Throughout this journey, we are looking at Peter's own relationship with Jesus and what it can teach us about ourselves.

Ancient fishing boat discovered on the Sea of Galilee, courtesy of Christianity Today.

Luke 5 describes one of Peter's first encounters with Jesus. Jesus was talking to a crowd of people at the seashore, and they were a true crowd--crowding him to the very edge of the water. Jesus looked around, spied Peter's boat, and asked to borrow it. From the boat, Jesus could talk without being squashed, and his voice would carry nicely across the water.

Let's stop and think about this for a second. Peter had just finished work for the day; he was probably exhausted and hungry and in a hurry to get home. Perhaps he was ruminating over his poor catch or wondering what his wife had cooked for lunch. I doubt he was glad to be interrupted, detained by this odd man, and asked for the use of his boat.

So here is my question to myself, and to you: Do I recognize these moments when they come?

One late night many years ago, I flung open the side door of the restaurant where I waitressed, legs aching from a double shift, and headed straight for my car. But the light spilling out the door illuminated someone in my way: Gary. He was a dishwasher, a big middle-aged guy who always cracked jokes and said hello when I passed through the kitchen. Sitting in his old junker, Gary was cranking and cranking the ignition, but the car just coughed and fell silent.

He caught sight of me and waved me over to ask for a ride. "Sure," I squeaked out, regret and anxiety coursing through my veins. So Gary folded himself into my tiny car and began directing me to his house. We drove and drove, finally taking an unfamiliar exit into a poor neighborhood a good thirty minutes away.

Funny thing about that night: It was the first time I'd ever gotten off the freeway that sailed over Gary's neighborhood. It was the first time I'd ever driven through those streets and seen actual people's faces. Soon we pulled into an alley where I dropped him off. Gary thanked me and said he'd see me at work the next day before disappearing into a dark house.

As I drove back down the alley, something began squeezing my heart. For the first time, I knew--really knew--that poor people are real people with names, and that poverty is wrong, and that God cares about this.

Most of the time I miss my "Gary" moments. When confronted with Jesus' request, maybe Peter thought, "This is random, but I'll go with it." Maybe he had no faith at all, but nonetheless, he didn't miss his moment. The events that followed changed his life forever and reshaped history.

My hope is that you and I can also be alert and respond to those moments--the ones where God bends near and beckons us into his story--when they come. Because I think they happen all the time.

Get inspired for Waiting for Water

Tom Stephen is pastor at Monte Vista Presbyterian Church in Newbury Park, California. He is also one of the founding members of Waiting for Water, and his creative and enthusiastic style shines through in the resources and community we are creating. Tom shared some of the ways Monte Vista Pres is preparing for its own Waiting for Water journey, and he agreed to let us pass them on to you. 

Here are some of the things Monte Vista is doing; feel free to make these ideas your own and share other suggestions in the comments.

·         Recruiting and training Bible study leaders by meeting with them multiple times and helping them catch the vision for Waiting for Water.

·         Inviting people to participate in W4W Bible studies; already sixty people have committed.

·         Creating full-color binders with copies of all the weeks’ Bible studies and making them available for the cost of copies.

·         Inviting artists in the congregation to create pieces of original art for all ten weeks of Waiting for Water; Tom plans to reveal one per week and then display the quilts, photos, and paintings in the worship building.

·         Handing out water bottles with a W4W logo to remind people to give up something for Lent and put money saved into the bottles; so far they have handed out 140 bottles.

·         Showing the Waiting for Water video on Sundays.

·         Creating a W4W slide that will accompany the sermons each week.

·         Using some of Dan Stevens’ videos in sermons.

·         Reminding church members each week what Waiting for Water is about and where they are going as a church.

“People are excited,” says Tom. He adds, “I’m stoked that our little church is pretty invested in this effort.” We are too, Tom. Thanks for sharing.