​Every paragraph I start, every position I frame, I fall back in exhaustion from the weight of smothering emotions, injustices done throughout history, truckloads of expert articulated words, grand solutions, a glaring lack of personal experience, and the potential offense that inappropriate words evoke.
 
Words fail me. I can’t breathe. I put my hand over my mouth.
 
God, the Master, says, “Come from the four winds. Come, breath. Breathe on these slain bodies. Breathe life!”
 
God breathed life into the nostrils of the clay man and so our earth story began. But soon we started to worship certain individuals and trample others. “Food for me, clothes for me, air for me; nothing for you.”
 
After Jesus breathed his last on the cross and then ascended triumphantly, he sent out his followers with a blessing of peace and a Spirit commission borne of his renewed breath: “A cup of water for you, food for the hungry, fresh air for all.”
 
Once the slogans, the marching, the fist pumps, the signs, the broken windows and the debris are over, after the collective roar of frustration and hopelessness echoes away into the distance, then comes the hard work. I’m hoping for reconnection. I’m envisioning forgiveness. I’m looking for reformulating. I’m anticipating being the love. I’m reaching out to move forward arm in arm.
 
Hands clasped we dust off the injured, prop up the limping, and raise the fallen who’ve had the breath knocked out of them.
                                                United. Equal. Respected. Loved. One in Christ.
 
These things should not be:  Lives needlessly squeezed away, suspicion based on skin color, economics stacked against a race.
 
These things should be:  Hands of all colors raised together toward heaven, blessings distributed to all, open hearts and listening souls.
 
Breathe life. Be the love.
 
 
From Job 40:4; Ezekiel 37:9; Genesis 2:7; Matthew 25:35,36; John 20:22.

​I’m having trouble with my eyes.
I don’t know where to focus them. They keep flitting from one terrifying news story to the next. Rioting, looting, a brush fire up the street, helicopters overhead, Covid-19, trouble with China, where do I look?
The nations are in an uproar, and kingdoms crumble!
The more I watch, the more mesmerized I become, the louder the buzzing in my ears, the throbbing at my temples. My eyes burn and water; scenes whirl around my head. I’m going under.
Save me, O God, for the floodwaters are up to my neck.
I don’t want to be swallowed whole. I don’t want to be swirled around in the maelstrom. My hands are reaching up, up. My eyes seek salvation.
I raise my eyes to you, whose throne is in heaven. For the honor of your name, lead me out of this peril.
Suddenly, my scrabbling feet find toeholds. My flailing arms find safety and my vision clears.
He sets my feet on solid ground and steadies me as I walk along. He leads me to the towering rock of safety with a mighty hand and outstretched arm.
I keep my gaze focused on his unfailing love, on the light that pierces the darkness, the glory that shines over all the earth.
But as for me, I will sing about your power. I will shout with joy each morning because of your unfailing love. For you have been my refuge, a place of safety in the day of distress.
I will keep my eyes where they belong, centered in your holiness.
Let me live forever in your sanctuary, safe beneath the shelter of your wings!
 
From Psalm 31:3; 40:2; 46:6, 59:16; 69:1,2,5; 123:1; 136:12

Be fruitful and multiply.” It’s the first instruction God gave to the earth’s premier couple in Genesis. But today, hearing that command will either cause tittering among elementary school children or eye rolling among those old enough to realize the earth obviously doesn’t need to add to its 7.8 billion population. What a quaint idea.

But interestingly enough, the same metaphor is used in John 15 as Jesus gives his last talk with his disciples. “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit” (verse 5). “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28:19 NIV). Sounds to me like “Be fruitful and multiply” all over again, this time in the spiritual sense.

This is a math equation. We are told to multiply. So dust off those times tables and MULTIPLY the GOODNESS of GOD today in the lives of those you interact with. Don’t just add or subtract. Go for the big guns. Do multiplication. You can MULTIPLY smiles, birthday celebrations, sorry-you-don’t-feel well cards, positive FaceTime calls, prayers, well wishes, porch visits, drive-by “hugs”. You can MULTIPLY the times you hold your tongue, take your hand away from the car horn, hit delete on a Facebook tirade, stand up for someone in trouble.
​
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law” (Galatians 5:22,23 NASB). 
Be fruitful and multiply love.
Be the Love.

What a selfish concept!
     When we talk about being blessed, it’s usually about something we’ve received, unless we’re saying “Bless you” to someone who sneezed, or throwing out “Bless your heart,” as a subtle put down.
     “I’m so blessed,” I hear people say. If you are blessed because you got a promotion or bought a big house or had a fabulous meal, what does that say about someone who doesn’t have those things? The unintended message is that I’m better than you are because I have something from God that you don’t have. Talking about material blessings can come across as selfish and egocentric.
     Don’t misunderstand me. I do believe God blesses us, but those blessings happen when were are living attuned to His Kingdom. Our relationships, the state of our heart, our recognition of beauty and joy in the world, the gratitude we feel for what we do have, the satisfaction that comes from sharing so that other people can have enough, those are the blessings that everyone has access to. By setting up the equation, “You’re blessed when you have things and not blessed when you don’t,” you project an image of a God who is unfair. It diminishes His character of love. Besides, it’s just flat out wrong. Jesus said of God, “For he gives his sunlight to both the evil and the good, and he sends rain on the just and the unjust alike” (Matthew 5:45 NLT).
     Don’t give God a black eye.  Be the love.
​
“Tell those rich in this world’s wealth to quit being so full of themselves and so obsessed with money, which is here today and gone tomorrow. Tell them to go after God, who piles on all the riches we could ever manage—to do good, to be rich in helping others, to be extravagantly generous. If they do that, they’ll build a treasury that will last, gaining life that is truly life” (I Timothy 6:17-19 MSG).
 
“For if the Gentiles have shared in the Jews’ spiritual blessings, they owe it to the Jews to share with them their material blessings” (Romans 15:27 NIV).

Nap
My head settles into the pillow, my shoulder digging for the spot just below it.  My toes stretch into the coolness of the sheets. I can feel the muscles in my back relax and let go as the foam topper reaches up to cradle them. I breathe out a huge sigh, disgorging a mountain of emotions, worries, schedules, conflicts into the air conditioner-chilled room. My eyes flutter close, my fingers uncurl and I know that within three seconds I will float away into the enchanted land of the afternoon nap.
 
It’s a rare treat that’s “oh, so luxurious” to be able to close down the shop of my life for an hour or two and leave it all lurking outside the bedroom door, while I rejuvenate, recreate, reinvigorate my body and my soul. And I wonder as my consciousness begins to seep into my pillow, if I relax into God’s arms as easily as I do into my memory foam.
 
Encircled by His love.
 
My spirit needs a break from the constant temptation to worry, to trust in myself, to play the “what if” game, to keep counting the resources I have and trying to figure out how to gain more of them. I need to sink into His arms, uncurl my fingers from holding onto my own ideas, snuggle into His promises, let Him sing His sweet song over me, feel the tensions and trials slither away, and know that I have the security to close my eyes and drift into His love, trusting that He’s in charge of my body, mind, and spirit.
 
 “He will feed his flock like a shepherd. He will carry the lambs in his arms, holding them close to his heart. He will gently lead the mother sheep with their young” (Isaiah 40:11 NLT).
“He put a new song in my mouth,
a song of praise to our God.
Many will look on in awe
and put their trust in Adonai” (Psalm 40:4 CJB).
​

When I was seven, I got stuck in a tree. Somehow I climbed up to a branch that was too high and when I went to descend, pure terror overtook me.  My uncle had to lift me off the branch, much to my embarrassment. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more afraid of heights. During a visit to Paris, we did the tourist thing and climbed the Eiffel Tower. Did you know that the metal steps have small holes in them through which you can see the ground receding below you? While my family enjoyed ice skating on the tower’s small rink and going on up to the top level for majestic views of the Parisian skyline, I huddled in the safest place I could find, studiously trying to keep my eyes from drifting towards the ground. The feeling of all that empty air below still haunts me.
 
There’s plenty to look at in this world that’s terrifying; Covid-19, economic recession, cancer diagnosis, job loss, relationship failure, ______ fill in the blank. When you look down and look at the terrors that surround you, your heart will fail within you.
 
When my father taught me to drive, he instructed me to look where I wanted to go, not at what was closest. This advice has been life-saving the times I’ve passed a semi-truck during a heavy rainstorm. The windshield wipers flail wildly, spray from the truck hammers the glass, puddles jerk the tires out of alignment. I peer through the rivulets hoping for a glimpse of the open lane in front of me, my whole body leaning toward the clear road ahead.
 
Where are you looking? What is your gaze locked on? Look up. Look into the face of Jesus and see all that is light and holy and inspiring. Be grateful for what you have; let praise and thankfulness permeate your day. Let the horrors recede in the rearview mirror.
 
By wrenching your eyes away from the mesmerizing evil, your example and your encouragement can also be a hand up and a nudge on the chin for someone else whose gaze is transfixed on their panic. “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things” (Philippians 4:8 NIV).
 
“Always be joyful.  Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances” (I Thess. 5:16-18 NLT).
​

“I do not accept that diagnosis.”  Her words rang in my ears across the Messenger phone call. We were talking about her medical appointment, and this was her response to one medical diagnosis that she disagreed with. “I will not let it define me,” she said.

I realize that declaring your medical diagnosis as “fake news” is a form of hiding your head in the sand and won’t change anything if you indeed have diabetes or heart disease or HIV, but I also loved the bravery behind her words.

The amount of negativity and stereotyping we face today is overwhelming. From all sides we are labeled and diagnosed and constantly told that we are “less than.” Instagram highlights our lack of artistic ability; Facebook makes it appear that everyone else is having more fun; LinkedIn gives us a peak into how others are better connected. Our own community may discriminate against us on the basis of race, sex, age, gender, orientation. We see terrors on every side. Right now many of us are grieving the loss of a career, an income, a future.

“I do not accept that diagnosis.” I will stand up and declare who I am. I am worthy. I am loved by God. I have value. I have purpose. I will realize that I am part of the sharing kingdom of God, and I will live every day accepting that mission. I will not accept the diagnosis that I have to live in fear and darkness, that I have to live selfishly to protect myself, and that I have to put others down in order to value myself. I am defined by the God of Heaven.
 
“So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, ‘Abba, Father’” (Romans 8:15 NLT).
 
“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” (I John 3:1 NIV).

I’ve never really worn a mask before. Never been invited to a masked party, never worked in a medical or industrial field that required a mask. I’ve always felt that decorative or cultural masks were a little creepy—and stuffy.
So it is with some horror that I’m scrolling through patterns on how to make a surgical-type mask to protect myself and my loved ones from the coronavirus. I’m reading technical graphs on which type of fabric best screens out the virus, and whether I should double or triple the material. Do Hepa filters or coffee filters actually work if you insert them in the mask? What about vacuum bags?

The thing with masks, sunglasses, baseball caps is the anonymity they bring. Although sewn to protect me, the mask is a symbol of this isolating pandemic that sweeps the globe. I am near you, but not known to you, not available. Most of my facial expressions are hidden making me inscrutable, my smile lost in the fabric.

Like newborn babies, we want to bond to a face. We crave face-to-face interaction, and our faces and hearts light up when we see someone’s familiar features. Although phone teleconferences work well, people are flocking to Zoom because we want to SEE each other. We want to have that eye connection, see that distinct profile.

The yearning to bond with the face of our God has been a desire throughout history. Moses longed to see God face to face, but he was denied that opportunity because God knew Moses could not withstand His glory. Maybe Moses finally saw God’s face on the day that he died. Maybe he died in God’s arms looking full into that Wonderful Face.

Through kind acts and selfless sharing, I see God’s face during this crisis. I see him in the Grubhub driver delivering Olive Garden meals, the masked face of a healthcare worker leaning over the bed of a feverish patient, the Walmart employee restocking the bread shelf. Thank you essential workers, thank you good neighbors for sharing God’s face with me and each other.
Be the Love.
​
“Restore us, God Almighty; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved” (Psalm 80:7 NIV).
“For now we see obscurely in a mirror,
but then it will be face to face.
Now I know partly; then I will know fully,
just as God has fully known me” (I Cor 13:12 CJB).
here to edit.

Clark
Let me introduce you to my friend, Clark.
He’s a bit nerdy.
He also has a superpower. On the surface he’s bland, uncomplicated, but in the right circumstances he can expand rapidly to become something desirable and vital to life.

Clark is my sourdough starter. He’s made from only water and flour and, well, bacteria. But left in a warm spot and fed with flour and water, Clark can become a crusty, steaming loaf of delicious bread.

Many of us feel like we’re not worth much, just simple, unassuming and dull. But we’ve also been promised a superpower. “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you” (Acts 1:8). This gift is promised to anyone, no human qualifications necessary. “I will pour of my Spirit on all people… Even on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my Spirit in those days” (Joel 2:28,29 NIV).

It’s not just for fun, like me dabbling in bread baking during Covid-19’s co-vacation. There’s an incredible purpose for this power to be shared from God. “You will be my witnesses, telling people about me everywhere” (Acts 1:8).
Just like Clark can use his superpower to go from a sour-smelling mass in a jar to a crunchy, warm loaf of sourdough bread, God can permeate us with His Spirit to become active participants in showing people God’s character of love. Jesus is the “bread of life.” The same Spirit that powered Him can empower us to be that life connection to others.
Be like Clark. Be the love.
 
“I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit” (Romans 15:13 NLT).
 
“They were told that their messages were not for themselves, but for you. And now this Good News has been announced to you by those who preached in the power of the Holy Spirit sent from heaven. It is all so wonderful that even the angels are eagerly watching these things happen” (I Peter 1:12 NLT).