The sky rose up above my head, distant stars shining with such presence I felt I could gather them in my fingers. But like sand they escape my grasp. My spirit lifted me that I may take my place among them. Everything in motion, the light they shine passes through me. I am somehow less firm in the company of the stars. I see myself as crude matter next to their glorious bodies.

But this is not so. For though I’m fallen creation I live in the crucible of free will. The stars continue in their purpose, there is no rebellion there. But I have to discover mine and submit to it.

Such a delicate dance, so effortless for them to obey. And yet for me, I am at war to keep my pace in step with His. Each foot I put in front of the other is a battle. And yet I learn from the stars, their fluid motion, their twinkling brilliance, their order with creation that all may exist. For such things to be there must be obedience.

O sometimes I envy the stars, they only ever shine, it is their nature. But I, in my freedom sometimes shine, sometimes not. I understand that when I am faithful my light shines greater than all the stars in heaven, but sometimes I would trade my freedom that I would actually be one.

And yet, I know that Jesus paid the price for my freedom and that I should be grateful, but at times, its almost blasphemous to think, I still envy the stars.

A tree knowing where its source of life comes from and turning its leaves to get more is worship. Growing branches that strain to get as much as it can, sometimes even recklessly upraised and unbalanced. Roots digging through the earth passed rocks and clay in search of water drinking as deeply as they can.

A tree knows that it can live off nothing less, so it grows and reaches and becomes a blessing to others providing homes for birds, squirrels, and many other creatures and providing shade and fruit for the traveler.

Living worship is more than a thought on a page, more than acts of kindness to a stranger. It is greater than the fellowship of community, and more powerful than the martyr’s sacrifice. It is everyday giving glory to the One who is all with each and every breath, in and out, each and every thought and action, each and every movement and stillness. Reaching toward our source of life with everything we are and growing to be a blessing, bearing fruit filled with thoughts, acts of kindness, communal fellowship, and sacrifice.

Peace to you on our snow day.

Brian

Let me begin with a warning, fire is dangerous when not handled safely. Do not try anything with it without an adult present and perhaps a functional extinguisher and a cell phone with 911 on speed dial.

I was introduced to the dramatic flash and flame of Coffeemate Creamer powder when I was in Junior High, back in the 80’s. A friend of mine poured a little single packet over a lit match, and I was hooked. After that I experimented with many other flammable sources but I always came back to Coffeemate. I would take a handful and toss it over a well lit camp fire and FLASH, it would light up the night sky.

In my always and ever concern to include others in all things freaking awesome, I developed what began to be called, “The Community Fireball”. Basically I would take a canister of generic creamer powder and hand out handfuls to people who formed a half-circle around the fire- with the wind at their backs! (Oh the lessons learned when giving a metaphor to 30+ willing participants at a Freshman Orientation Retreat)

I would then begin with a devotional thought about what we can accomplish on our own in comparison to when we pour our resources in with others, a basic truth discovered back during the building of the tower of Babel, but when applied to Christians taps into the advancement of the Kingdom of God as Jesus prayed for in John 17. I know to think this way pulls at the fabric of many churches, and it should because I’ve seen flames stretch up 20+ feet in the air, reminiscent of the pillar of fire God used to guide His people with by night.

The highest I’ve gotten on my own is maybe 6 feet of flame. Jesus calls us the “light of the world”, and He prayed for us to be “one” just as He and His Father are One, so that, and here’s the kicker- “to let the world know that You have sent me and have loved them even as You have loved me.” So by being unified as Jesus prayed for, we are evangelizing to the world.

There’s a group called COGL (Churches of Greater Lansing) who are planning a food drop this February for families in need. I believe it is a group of more than 30 churches and I’m very excited to see the influence and effect this act of love will have on the surrounding communities. Who knows, it might just change the city as Jesus’ followers reach out in love to those in need. I betcha this flame will be so big it will be seen from Heaven.

Go ahead, grab a handful and come along. Let’s all throw in to that great consuming Fire and see how far the Light will shine.

-Brian

I love building fires, whether its on the river during a wilderness trip, or at home heating the house. For me, there’s something spiritual about it, even if the Bible would have never said anything about God being a consuming fire. But it does, in fact fire is mentioned many times throughout Scripture from Divine action to description to everyday function. Many times its presence is connected with the power of God. His cleansing power through crucible, His saving power amidst persecution, His guiding power through darkness, altogether it is indeed a mighty physical manifestation of something intangible but felt and seen keenly.

But what I like most about fire is breathing into it. For a fire to build sometimes it is necessary to blow into it, and even when its not, I do it. The roar of the flames that rages to life when I blow out the air of my lungs into its hungry coals always catches me for a moment. Long enough for my lips to feel the intense heat I just blew into life, and then my nose breathes in the warmth as if the fire is responding in kind. I think for a moment what it must have felt like for Isaiah to have his lips touched by a coal from the altar. That atoning ritual commissioned him for his prophetic role to the people of God. And there are other times when I consider myself the flame, my soul a pile of wood waiting for the breath of God to bring me to life, to engage me in the outpouring of His will on the earth.

I love building fires, it should be a sacrament, or at least a ritual. It is for me.

There is no comfortable distance between You and I,
You, that great consuming fire, and I, a tinder box.

-Brian

Sometimes things hit me a little differently as I get older. Candlelight Services have always been a tradition no matter what church I’ve attended but tonight, as I was in the upper deck at Trinity, I got a different view than the one I’m used to. Like for many people, experiences with Christians have been a mixed bag. They are some of the meanest/nicest, cruel/kind, selfish/generous, arrogant/humble people I have known. But no matter the darkness that may be in each of us who claim Christ as Lord, there is a light that persists even against our worldly nature. This same nature that proves so hard to cast off at times takes a front seat in many of our interactions, but then there’s this light.

Tonight I looked down and watched as hundreds of people who once were in darkness had a small flame passed to them by their neighbor. And slowly, it filled the room. The house lights were shut off but I could hardly tell. For the moment, everyone was free from darkness and were joined in singing Silent Night. This light they carried was a candle, but as we celebrated our Savior’s birth it stood, like the star, for His presence in our lives. This light, not glowing from anything we’ve done, not because of our status or background, but for our present and our future, shines to give us a hope not attached to anything here. This light, when held aloft as our identity, our soul source of joy and peace, spreads, for each one of us has a wick.

At one point we shared an identity greater than our own, greater than anything that can be done by a crowd of any size. We were sharing in the joy of the magi, the fulfillment of the prophets, the worship of angelic hosts and as a result, all our darkness was as chaff. This light, this small candle began to represent for me something much more than a stick of wax with some string in it, it was Jesus in us shining His light to this darkened world regardless of our darkened selves. We become illumined not because of us, but because we agreed to believe that He came for us.

What would it be like to live humbly knowing that our achievements here, no matter how great, will always pale in comparison to what has been done for us and the greatest thing we could ever do is acknowledge it?

The moment passed and it was time to blow out our candles. On the count of three we did. It was startling how drastic the darkness was, and without that small flame, that is all we will ever have. This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine… hide it under a bushel, no! Won’t let Satan pff it out… I’m gonna let it shine.

God bless,
Merry Christmas,

Brian

This evening was an experience I won’t soon forget. I had the opportunity to help give food out to some of the refugees living in Lansing through Mount Hope Ministries. I got connected with it through a friend of mine, Don Benson owner of Vinaigrettes, a local restaurant and attender of Mount Hope Church. Both Don and his wife Lisa, along with their son Peter and his wife Debbie go out every Tuesday to two sites: one a refugee apartment complex and the other a corner lot where some homeless people dwell.

Tonight, those sites converged as they handed out hot meals, bags of produce, and brought a bus full of hats gloves and shoes. It was an intense experience as people from all over the world pushed through hastily organized lines to get their gifts. There was so much food they began to give it out by the box. There was a small semblance of order for most of the adults listened as we tried to get everyone what they needed.

After every bag of food we would tell them Jesus loves them and to have a Merry Christmas. I eventually got into the flow of things offering blessings and food to everyone around me, then there was Cora, a 50 something year old woman who stood there looking at me muttering something. I leaned over to hear her better and all I heard was “I’m pathetic, I’m homeless…” The blessings I offered her seemed to lack tangibility so I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and prayed for her. She began to shake from crying, I held on and continued to pray. She eventually calmed down as the Spirit did His work within her. I don’t know what all was done but there was transformation. I wanted to get her to Peter or Debbie because I’m the new guy and didn’t know all that could be done for Cora at that time and place.

I was eager to give her something, I turned around and saw a stockpile of food sitting in the middle of the parking lot. I assumed that it was more of the food we were giving out but I didn’t know it already belonged to someone. I picked up a bag and handed it to Cora, then a large African woman bustled up to me and pointed at the bag then at herself. I asked her if it was her’s and another woman who spoke a little English said it was. When I took the bag from Cora and handed it back to the lady another transformation happened, but not a good one. Cora, not a small woman herself, stood rigid and demanded the bag of food back. It was fierce and it was all my fault. I thought there was going to be a brawl between these two women as I tried to calm Cora down and explain my mistake. Cora shrugged me off as if I were a fly and began threatening all around her as more Africans gathered. I called out to one gentleman she offended, “Merry Christmas! Keep walking.” Thankfully Debbie found another bag of broccoli which I quickly gave to Cora to pacify the quickly deteriorating situation. That did the trick for as soon as Cora calmed again, everyone broke up and went their separate ways.

We got a couple plates together of warm food for Cora to take to her family. I didn’t see her again after that but hope that in some small way she got a chance to meet Jesus and see that He cares for her no matter how pathetic we are or can be. And I’ll try to find an unclaimed bag of food before I give it away next time.

Merry Christmas everyone,
Brian