Whirlwind - (A Slam)

A wind blows, tries to bowl me over
Billowing over me, around me, surrounds me.
A scorching east wind sent towards us to strip us and torch us.
It’s a swirling storm of lists to do whose doing I missed
That never quits.
Pressures, not pleasures, that distress me,
because success is so hard to measure,
Stealing away life’s true treasures.

Like a smile on my daughter’s face, my mate’s embrace,
And time in the quiet place
Have all been replaced by what I’ve made first place.
It’s such a sad state and a waste to always have a full-plate and yet be left with an empty taste.\

I’ve been chasing after the wind
And what I’ve sown has made me so winded that
I’ve reaped the whirlwind
Whirled and warped by the world – its words of wisdom
And ways of warranting worth
Are worlds away from the truth and not the last word
Because THE Word, breathed by the Spirit
Whispers to me and bathes me in a breath of life
Calling me to a life-style.
A pleasant pleasurable stroll that restores the soul
from a rat race with a relentless pace
I’m phat with all that peace, and now walk, slower, more whole.

There’s something like a rushing wind, a mighty sound from heaven,
Waves gushing over me.
I catch my breath as the Ruach that abounds and bounds over every barrier
Comes to carry my weary soul.
It doesn’t spin me or spend me but descends on me
like Elijah’s whirlwind.
It turns and sends me closer, returned to Sender.

And I catch this wave of God’s glory instead of the same old same old
Story of wind at my back, working me over, and over-working to the point of heart attack,
chasing after dreams with a false sheen that are deemed elusive
and never ever what they seem.

Carry and lift me, whirlwind of God.
Fill my sails and take me above all that assails me, these sad pursuits that always seem to fail me
Are now so far below me cause this God-wind just blows me away,
chasing all that was insignificant, elusive, and actually abusive,
Erasing the gaping hole that existed between my existence and God’s intended goals.
And it’s in this holy whirlwind that I am carefully carried by this caring Creator
Who fully pursues me, renews me and infuses new life in me.

(Gen. 41:27; Eccl. 2:11; Nah. 1:3; Hos. 8:7; 2 Ki. 3:11; Acts 2:1-2)

A Questionable City

“You take delight not in a city's seven or seventy wonders, but in the answer it gives to a question of yours.” 

― Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities

Cities are an interesting phenomenon in that human characteristics, like personality, character and reputation can be attributed to them. Paris could be described as at once charming, snobby, magical and gritty. The city where I live, Grenoble, has a reputation of being polluted, crime-ridden, beautiful and liberal.  Sometimes what we think we know about a city is replaced by what we experience after having lived there for a while. I know a number of people who traded the easier pace and natural beauty of this alpine capital for the seduction and stereotypical allure of “living the dream” in Paris. However, the true character of the city, according to their now informed opinion, didn’t live up to the reputation.

Don’t get me wrong. Paris is indeed a wonderful city - to visit. But residing there is another thing altogether. High cost of living and astronomical rent turn many infatuated and aspiring Paris residents into disillusioned suburb dwellers. They went to the City of Lights thinking it would be a life of quaint coffee shops and quiet strolls in the Luxembourg gardens. Instead, reality turned out to be hours upon hours spent among silent, sober and crowded metro cars each day, commuting from one of the affordable, immigrant-filled outlying suburbs to a job of some sorts in a very gray and often cold metropolis. Paris gets on average only 1662 hours of sunshine per year. That means it is sunny only 40% of sunlight hours.

So you never know what you might get out of living in a city until you start living there long enough to allow the veneer to wear off. When it came to France’s presidential elections last week, no one was really sure  what the results would reveal lying in the underbelly of the world’s number one tourist destination. What we thought we knew about Grenoble’s  character would be proven by a very crucial and divisive political vote. Many people I think, held their breath, as the possibility of a misjudgment would only be revealed by that evening’s vote tally, and depending on the result, possibly exposed as well by the illuminating glow of hundreds of cars being set on fire in angry protest throughout many of the city’s troubled neighborhoods.

As it turns out, Grenoble’s longstanding reputation for solidarity with immigrants and foreigners once again shone through. A whopping 83 percent of Grenoble’s residents voted yes for Emmanuel Macron and a resounding no to the xenophobic and fascist National Front party echoed throughout the surrounding  verdant hills and craggy mountains.

Grenoble’s reputation remained intact. A city that has in its history been progressive, tolerant and welcoming to Protestants, Jews, and a host of other immigrants, once again rose to the occasion and defeated hatred and fear.  We thought we knew what we were getting when we moved here and entered into this relationship with Grenoble. And she didn’t let us down. She is at her core a place of refuge and reconciliation. And that is what we as His people, are all about in this crucial hour of suspicion, hate-mongering and tribalism that is polluting our world.  

Thanks for not letting us down, Grenoble. I talk to you as if you have a personality. And as it turns out, you do. And a pretty dependable one at that.

Nameless but not Unknown

The season has begun for the best sport ever created. I love baseball for so many reasons - some  practical and others nostalgic. And I have been a fan of the San Francisco Giants from my childhood until now. Something unique about my team that they share with only two other clubs, each of them as storied a franchise as the other, is the fact that when they play their games at home, the names of the players are not on the backs of their uniforms. I suppose the idea is that when you play for those who are your fans, they already know your name.

Being nameless is not always easy, though. Just ask the guy who let Jesus borrow his donkey so He could make his famous Palm Sunday trek into Jerusalem. That procession with  its thronging, adoring crowds is something that Christian churches still commemorate all over the world. Yet this event would not at all have been possible without this man’s generosity. And we don’t even know his name:

“Jesus sent two of them on ahead.  “Go into the village over there,” he said. “As soon as you enter it, you will see a donkey tied there, with its colt beside it. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone asks what you are doing, just say, ‘The Lord needs them,’ and he will immediately let you take them.” (Matthew 21:2-3)

Two things stood out to me as I read it this week. The phrase “just say ‘the Lord needs them’” and the word immediately. I’m so impressed by this individual whose selfless and generous devotion to his Master only required a “Jesus needs it” and not only is it given no questions asked, it is given no minute squandered. It didn’t matter that the donkey could have been a primary source of income that day, what with all the visitors in town for the approaching Passover. Don’t worry about the fact that the colt was probably bred with care and not a little difficulty. Jesus is asking for it - so in return there’s no questions asked.

But what is ironic to me, is that this livestock owner’s demonstration of sold-out loyalty to the Savior in a crucial moment of His destiny did not warrant a mention of his identity in the Gospels. The Holy Spirit certainly could have brought it to Matthew’s otherwise limited memory or lame capacity to pass on credit. But we will never know his name.

Just like another key figure in the passion week story. I’m thinking of the landlord of the upper room. This time the disciples sent on ahead to make preparations are told they will find a “certain man”. And all they had to tell him was “The Teacher says my time has come and I will eat the Passover meal at your house”(Matthew 26:19) and it was as good as done. What he gave, no doubt, were utensils, plates, basins, copious amounts of special food, lamb with herbs cooked until tender, and the best wine. And what did he get in return? Water on the floor from twelve pairs of dirty feet having been washed, a table strewn and stained with crumbs, slopped wine, gnawed bones as well as guests hastily departed to leave behind lots of messy dishes, and a room in disarray. And again, no name is recorded.  He too has remained anonymous to this day.

Both these stories beg a question.  Is what I have completely at Jesus’s disposal, all so He can both penetrate the walls of a city and the hearts of its inhabitants? Or so he can have a place prepared for his purposes to unfold? It may never result in my fame, but as long as it results in His, then it’s worth whatever I have to give up. Because in the end, my sacrifice always pales mightily in comparison to His.

God’s prophetic plans are continually unfolding, even today. So He quite often needs followers whose resources are immediately available. Who knows if one of His many important moments has come in our lives or for those around us. He may need what we have to get to a new place or to have a resting place. But regardless, we can be sure of this: He knows our name, even if the crowd doesn’t.  He is your biggest fan. And he never forgets what you forfeit. After all, it’s His applause we should be playing for anyway