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Jesus said, "He (the Holy Spirit) shall take of mine and disclose it to you." John 16:14

  When I read that I immediately had to ask myself what Jesus meant by, "what is mine." I can't begin to grasp all that could include: but at the bottom of it all is His consuming love for humanity. God is love and this Jesus demonstrated in all of God's radiance. I began to wonder why we don't have that disclosed to us in more vivid ways like when Jesus walked the earth? Then I realized that God has provided a way to disclose and display His love to each of us and it is through the birth of our own children and the ensuing love. When we hold a newborn baby in our arms we often call the overwhelming gush of love and affection as natural love; but far from natural, this is God's luminous display of what love is and, of course, how much our hearts can love. We content ourselves to limit it to our family, but I think it is Jesus revealing what is His and by what power we can change the world and glorify God.

  I read the following piece by George Matheson on how to party; I don't think I've ever read a piece on the subject.

 "I would not forget myself in wine, in temper, in recklessness, in despair. But I would lose my self in love. I would have Your care written on my forehead  the wish to make others glad. I would shine by another's light. I would have my words winged by the joy of giving joy. I would sacrifice self in the scenes men deem sensuous. I would help my brother's social hour. I would cheer my sister's domestic hearth. I would sink to a level with the child's game. I would move to the music of surmounted pleasures. I would live in the pastimes of inferiors. I would manifest an interest, yes, I would experience an interest in fields of life that have ceased to be gardens for me. I have kept Your religion for deep things. Plant it  also on the surface, O my God! Your name is in my heart; write it on my forehead! (Rev. 22:4)

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  Sarah Tijerina and I preached at the Mission last night and after the service a woman, about sixty, approached me and held out her hands for me to hold as she began unfolding her story. As I held her hands I could feel tremors pulsing through them the entire conversation. She had a gentle spirit and pleasant appearance without many of the distressing signs of homelessness. My warmth of affection was kindled more and more as she spoke and I reached out to hug her, and as I did it was as if she exhaled all her fears, and her frail body wilted into my chest. At that moment the love of Jesus poured from my heart and I felt so close it was if I had known her all my life. I didn't solve any of her problems that night but that warm and personal moment must be what it is to give a cup of water to a parched soul.

 Outside on the street Sarah was sharing her story of redemption from homelessness and Christ's unfailing love to a man towering over her: and as she did I began a conversation with a woman I've seen many times at the mission. It began a bit clumsy but as I asked her about her life I found she was 49 years old and at age nineteen she ran away and lived on the streets of Alaska for 20 years; then went in hopes of help to her mother in New Mexico, only to be rejected and spent more time on the streets there and eventually made her way to Seattle and then down to Portland where she has continued her thirty years of homelessness. She's an interesting woman, taller and broader than I, with one eye hazed over with a cataract but the other steel blue eye and piercing. If we were ever to have a bout, in fairness to you, I'd advise you to wager on her as the winner. I asked her how she's made it living on the streets; she simply said, "I'm tough!" And she looks tough, but with glimmers of beauty under her chiseled face with teeth in need of care and a solemn visage but she was open with me and her mind was sharp and clear. It was almost like I was talking over the fence to a neighbor, natural and warm. She noticed a friend and kindly, but briskly, said goodbye and left me standing there watching her blend in the crowd. 

Racism, or just human curiosity? 

This top picture and its sentiments are those our hearts resound and agree with. 
But when we look at the man in the bottom picture we see our true sentiments, how much of our love is divine and what is not. 

 Here may be the most consoling, encouraging prayer for women, and men, I've ever heard. 

 Prayer for Women by Rachel Asproth

God of Hagar, Tamar, and Mary Magdalene

Of Sarah, Rebecca, and Rachel

God of Ruth, Esther, and Rahab

Of the Woman at the Well and the Woman They Would Have Stoned

God of the unseen, unwanted, and unheard

God of the silenced

Of those rendered invisible

God of those who wait

God of those who struggle

God of those who rise

God of the broken

Of the healing and the healed

Of the hopeful and the hopeless

God of the forgotten, who never forgets, we pray

Remember your daughters in 2019

Remember the women who wait—

the women who ache to hear the church call their names,

the women who press their skin against stained glass,

searching frantically for cracks

Remember the women who serve in the shadows,

the women who long to lead,

the hungry women, the thirsty women, the tired women,

the women with a revolutionary Word resting on their tongues

Remember the women who wait

God of Hagar,

remember those who wander the deserts of your church

Open the floodgates and bathe them in hope

May their waiting be over,

because their time has finally come

May the church call their names loudly

May painted glass crack and shatter

Remember the women who survive battles they never asked to fight—

the women with scars and bruises,

and the ones who bleed unseen from the heart,

the women who said no,

and the women who were too afraid to

Remember the women who are violated and hurt

trafficked, assaulted, raped, harassed, and demeaned

the women who walk through fire,

the warriors who rise from the ashes,

scarred but strong

Remember the women who feel broken,

afraid, and alone—

the ones who hold their breath in the night

Because of pain they can’t forget to remember

God of Tamar and Dinah,

God who sees sorrow we can’t name,

remember the women who walk out of the furnace alive

unconsumed by the flames

May your love salve their burns

May your church bind their wounds

May your people see justice done

May survivors be safe in your house

Remember the women who are tired—

the women who labor,

and labor

and labor

unseen in the background of history,

unseen in the church,

unseen by their families

unseen in their workplaces

unseen by their world

Remember the women on the fringes, God of the Woman Who Bled And Was Healed

Remember the women the world loves to forget,

the women who lead nations,

the women who plant churches,

the missionaries, the pastors, and the teachers

Remember the women who love beyond reason,

the women who build their homes brick by brick,

who care for their children and parents without recognition,

the women who carry jugs of water on their heads for miles

and give up their portions so others can eat

God of Naomi,

Remember the women who are tired,

the women who have lost much,

the women who weep and mourn,

who long for brighter days

Meet them in their sorrow,

when the road seems far too long,

and fill them again

Remember the women who are excluded—

dismissed by their own brothers and sisters

Remember, God of the unheard and unseen,

women of color—

betrayed and silenced,

and the women with ten dollars to their names

who ask for help and receive none,

and the women we try to erase

because they speak or dress differently

God of the Samaritan Woman,

remember the women who are excluded

Empower them as only you can

May your church listen better

May your people see justice done

May women of color,

women with disabilities,

women experiencing poverty,

and all women who have gone unheard

be safe in your house

May they be honored in your sanctuaries

Remember the women who fight—

the advocates and activists

the women who turn water into wine,

and then pour it out

Remember the marchers and the sitters

the women who could not and would not be moved

God of Deborah,

remember the women who lead revolutions,

the ones who give up everything

so that others might be free

Remember those who struggle ferociously against the tide

pushing onward,

onward,

onward,

exhausted but ever enduring

May you be the storm at their backs,

a furious wind that drives them through the waves

God of Jael, remember the women who fight

God of the forgotten, who never forgets, we pray

Remember your daughters in 2019

Remember the women your world loves to forget

Remember the women your church overlooks

Remember the women your people try to erase

Remember your daughters in 2019

Amen

 How does a young woman find her way in this culture? I can't think of a time in human history when it was more difficult, and for young men as well. But I trust God will lead them where they need to be. But I'm sure of this, it will not be my mother's reality. New wine, for a new world: I'm sure Jesus has the path laid out, the way clear, and I see young women finding the path. I cling to His promise that He will not leave them as orphans!

  I know so many movie stars do wrong, but when I see pictures of them it saddens me so. I can only imagine how difficult it would be to be rocketed into the public eye, lavished with praise and wealth, and to hold on to who you are... 

I've talked to so many who have had profound experiences with Christ when just a child. But should I doubt that? Not for a second; He draws the pure in heart. 

 I think, for the good of the world, Jesus designed us in such a way that when we are around those in great need and we do something to help them, anything: it profoundly affects us and draws us closer to Christ and to humanity. 

Isaiah 58:6-12 explains it in depth. 

 I love the look of intensity in this photo. This young gymnast reaching with all her might for a success in her sport. It rang out in my spirit: how am  doing? Am I reaching for something better? Something beyond my reach? The call of Jesus echoes this sentiment. 

 "For you tolerate it if anyone enslaves you, if anyone devours you, if anyone takes advantage of you, if anyone exalts himself, if anyone hits you in the face." 2Cor. 11:20

 There are many forces in this world that will seek to do all of the above; our minds may go first to the domestic arena, but these hazards lie in all of life including religion. 

"Be wise as a serpent." 

 "Lord, it is on my sea that you walk; it is on the billows of my soul that You draw near. The first proof of Your presence is inward storm. It is by the rolling of the waves of conscience that I know You to be nigh. 
When You were absent from my heart there was no  wind, there were no waves; the sea was a great calm. But when Your feet touched the waters my storm arose - the storm of my conscience. The thing which yesterday looked harmless became fraught with peril. The deeds on which yesterday I gazed with complacency, spread blackness in my soul. The valleys became mountains, the trifles loomed as deadly crimes, and I beat upon my breast and cried, "Lord, be merciful unto me! That was my hour of communion with You O God." George Matheson. 

"The righteous shall be recompensed in the earth." Proverbs 11:31


  Lord, wherever my spirit may dwell hereafter, the recompense I seek for my present deed is that the earth may be blessed in it. 

  I gave a coin yesterday to a tattered woman, and she invoked all Your chariots of blessing to descend upon me. She thought she was drawing profusely on Your stores; what she asked of You seemed inadequate. It was not treasure from above that I wanted from You; it was treasure from below. I wished some day to find that my coin had been a turning point in this woman's fortune -- that it had given her new hope, new comfort, new courage, new belief in man, new confidence in You. 
For any good I do, O God, it is earth that I should like to be recompensed." George Matheson, photo by Cedric Hayes Portland Oregon. 

  "In South Africa I remember an experience which I had not known since my childhood: moments, even hours, of intense exhilaration, when one seemed to be a happy part of a friendly universe.

I have had the same experience much later in life, and they came usually in the early morning or at sunset. I seemed to acquire a wonderful clearness of mind and to find harmony in discords and unity in diversity, but to find these things not as conclusions of thought, but in a sudden revelation, as in a poetry or music. For a few moments beauty peeped from the most unlikely wrappings and everything had a secret purpose or joy. It was the mood for poetry had I been anything of a poet. Looking back I especially remember a time that stands out. I rose after a supperless night and I bathed in one of the icy cold pools, and then basked in the early sunshine while breakfast was cooking. The water made a pleasant music, and near by was a covert of willows filled with singing birds. Then and there came on me and hour of revelation, when, though savagely hungry, I forgot about breakfast. Scents, sights, and sounds blended into a harmony so perfect that it transcended human expression, even human thought. It was like a glimpse of the peace of eternity.

There are no more comfortable words in the language than Peace and Joy. Peace is that state in which fear of any kind is unknown. But Joy is a positive thing; in Joy one does not only feel secure, but something goes out from oneself to the universe, a warm, possessive effluence of love. There may be Peace without Joy, and Joy without Peace, but the two combined make Happiness. It was Happiness that I knew in those rare moments. The world was a place of inexhaustible beauty, but still more it was the husk of something infinite, ineffable, and immortal, in very truth the garment of God." John Buchan.