Saints on Safari

A few days ago, I tripped over a tent stake .  Larry, one of the wonderful staff members at Lion Safari Campground, was near enough to see, but just a little too far away to catch me.

After determining that it was only my dignity that was injured , I rolled on to my hands and knees and climbed up from the grass where I was lying.  Larry remarked about the strangeness of the way that I went down.  It seemed to him that I fell in slow motion, as though I hesitated in the middle of the fall and almost caught my balance. 

I remember losing control of my body and heading for the ground.  There was no way that I could catch my balance and avoid the fall.  I did not even try.  I pondered Larry’s observation, as I was too involved in going down to notice how it happened. 

I remembered Psalm 91:11.  He shall give his angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways.   Was the pause, the transition to slow motion,  the time when an angel caught me and eased me down?  Was I protected from harm, as I was laid gently on the forgiving earth? 

I did not feel the touch of angel hands.  Larry did not see the angel catch, or hear the brush of angel wings.  Yet, I am unwounded, and thankful for this time, and many others that I have been protected in the midst of my own carelessness or the carelessness of another.  Thanks be to God, for grace that accompanies each of us , even when we are unaware, on our personal safaris.

This time of year, every year, we hear an uproar from well-meaning people about the secularization of the Advent-Christmas season.  They write and speak, and sometimes yell, about the travesty of “Taking Christ out of Christmas”.  They make almost as much noise about this as they do about “taking God out of the schools”. 

Think about it for a moment.  If God is who we say God is – all knowing, all powerful, all present, how can anyone take God out of anything or banish God from anywhere?  How can any group or society remove Christ from the hearts of those who truly celebrate Emmanuel, God with us?

Those fearful and outraged statements do not add to God’s glory.  They diminish it, by making God seem vulnerable to the whims of human nature.  God is.  Period.  Jesus is.  Period.  If those who call themselves Christ-followers would spend their energy doing justice, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God, (Micah 6:8), they would do much more to influence the world for good than they do by yelling at the world for taking away their rights to practice what they say they believe.

I am not so worried about taking Christ out of Christmas. This can not be done. I am more concerned with taking the cross out of Christmas. The baby came as God with us, Emmanuel. The baby came to die so that we may live. When you see the X, see the sign of the cross, and rejoice!

I sat recently with someone dear to me, as she was undergoing preparation for a Pet Scan.  Uneasy with the thought of radioactive isotopes making their way through her body in search of errant cells, she had asked for my presence in the dark and quiet room where she was to rest for an hour. 

The technician was hesitant, but finally agreed that I could be there, with a lead shield between us, protecting me from the radiation.  She was instructed to rest so that the isotopes could do their work, so we sat in silent camaraderie, communicating without words.  Assured that she was not alone, she relaxed and slept until the hour had passed.

To me, that time was holy.  I meditated during the silence about how much like prayer the interlude was.   Presence was more important than words.  Just knowing that we are accompanied through the experiences of life by One who loves us, who is with us, who will not leave us alone – that is enough to bring us quiet confidence and rest. 

Prayer does not need to be about endless babble.  Our needs are known.  Our weaknesses are supported. Our fears and hopes, our questions and dreams are acknowledged by the creator who is also our companion.

And he has torn the curtain down!  The contamination of our sin no longer separates us from his holiness.  At Calvary, he banished the barrier.  God is no longer hidden from our sight.  He looks at us with all the love that we can ever need, and in his presence is fullness of joy and completeness of peace.  That is what calls us to be saints on safari.

We were eating lunch in the Food Court of the local mall, and Abby had wandered off to prepare for leaving.  I had told her that I would clear the table and meet her near the exit.  Just then, a smiling Asian man approached and asked if he could clear the table for me.  Startled, I stuttered that I was about to do that, but he offered once again to complete the task for me.

I smiled my thanks, and he removed the dishes.  As he turned toward the trash can, he looked me in the face and said, “God bless you.”  Then he was gone, and I was left wondering.

Was this a gift of love from God?  Was he an angel sent to assist?  Or was he simply, as are all of us, a saint on safari, sharing love and grace with another saint on the journey? 

How simple a gift.  Yet it has left me with a sense of warmth and comfort.  His blessing, unexpected and joyfully bestowed, was a reminder of God’s love.  Receiving it, I was strengthened for my own struggles and encouraged on my personal path.

We have visited several churches since coming to Florida, in hope of finding a place that nurtures our spirits and gives us a venue for nurturing the spirits of others.  The United Methodist congregation of nearly two thousand is large, active, socially involved, and as welcoming as it could be to strangers who can easily get lost in so large a gathering.  Its liturgy is familiar, but it is so big…

The Vineyard Church, although worshipping in a high school school auditorium, is a small group of people who welcome and love the stranger almost as freely as they welcome and love each other.  Their worship is enthusiastic, and their pastors are compassionate and earnest.  Their work among the poor is exceptional.  But their band is loud, and drowns out the words that are displayed on the screens overhead…and their core values are more fundamental than we are able to endorse.

The Episcopal Church is familiar in its liturgy, and centers around the Eucharist.  Its programming and outreach are normative for main-line Protestantism.  Its people are welcoming to all, but they are less socially proactive in matters that are not politically correct…and we have to dress up a little more!

The Messianic Synagogue, Gersher Shalom, is a packed store front, where ushers seek to find empty seats for worshippers. Their worship is of such holiness that tears ran down my face for the first half hour.  I knew that I was in my Father’s house.  The people are in love with Yeshua (Jesus), even as they are faithful to the rituals of their Judaism.  The music is surely an echo of Heaven, and the use of Hebrew and Spanish, along with English, is incredibly beautiful.  But, we are not sure whether we, being gentiles, are truly welcome there except as observant worshippers…

I was struggling today, as I pondered the options.  I prayed for a gentle spirit, so that I could accept and value the blessings offered by each group, and not be critical of the parts that do not appeal to me as a person.  I realize that there are so many differences among God’s people, and varying needs and personalities are comfortable with varying styles.

Varieties of people, different needs, contrasting ideas, eclectic styles…we may not find one place that meets all our criteria.  But, what a wonderful opportunity we are experiencing!  God’s people, so different, yet so similar, all saints on safari, because they bear the likeness of Jesus, Messiah, Yeshua, Son of God, Lord of Lords, King of all Kings, and all are cleansed by the blood of Jesus Christ, who gave Himself for us. It is all about HIM.  Alleluia!

A Facebook friend posted a popular preacher’s link about the power of prayer to change the person who prays.  The idea is not a new one, nor is it particularly profound.  It makes sense that those who spend time talking to the Father are going to be(come) more loving, as He is.

Or does it?  In the string of several hundred comments (No, I did not read them all!) there was a request for prayer from a reader.  Following her request, there were dozens, perhaps hundreds, of continuing comments.  People were attesting to the changes that prayer had made, or was making, in their personal lives.  Not one person responded to her need.  I did not see one comment that assured her that she would be lifted in someone’s prayers.

It made me sad to see all those super-spiritual comments, made by well-meaning people who had no clue that they were ignoring  the pain and the cry of a saint in her personal and painful safari.  Have we made our faith and our relationship with God so personal that it is all about us, to the exclusion of others?

I do not think that God means for our time with him to be so much about us alone.  Prayer, if it is real communion with the Father, opens our eyes to see as God sees, unstops our ears to hear the cries that God hears, breaks our hearts with the things that break the heart of God. 

I looked up the person who requested prayer.  She is employed in some capacity in a church in another country.  I will leave you to wonder whether I contacted her.  If you would like to join me in prayer for her, her name is Lynne.

There are people at the fringes of my life who choose not to love me.  In fact, they don’t even want to to like me.  They would prefer I just go away and stay out of their lives completely and forever.  There is nothing I can do to change that.  I have tried, even to the extent of asking for love, only to see the folded arms and shaking head that says NO WAY! Their hearts are closed to me.    My offering of myself to them is totally rejected. 

Today, I experienced the opposite.  I phoned my niece to ask a favor.  She responded instantly in the affirmative, with such a loving attitude that it brought tears to my eyes.  Yet I would not accept the favor unless, and until, her husband agreed as well.  I asked that she share my request with him and let me know his thoughts, at a time that was convenient to them.

We had barely ended the call, when my phone rang.  This good man, whom I had met only after he entered our family through marriage, responded,  “Tell Aunt Carol that I would do anything for her.”

That is the definition of unquestioning love, unconditional acceptance, giving without expecting anything in return.    

Later, I mused to Abby, “I wonder what I ever did to warrant such a response from him.”  Abby answered, “It doesn’t matter”.  She was right.  Love like that can not be earned.  It is freely given and must be freely accepted.  It comes with no strings attached, no pre-conditions, no contracts, no price to be paid.  It is indeed the finest gift that one person can give another.  Love like that speaks more of the giver’s heart than of the receiver’s.

It is so like the love of God, given beyond measure, overflowing, unearned, and often unanticipated, just there for the accepting and enjoying.  God’s love comes with no strings, conditions, contracts, price, no need to prove our value.   That is the love that counts.

In Greg’s face, I see the face of Jesus.  Thank you, Greg, for the reminder that real love overcomes rejection every time!  (For the record, I love you, too).  Thank you, God, for the safari saints who go the extra miles to show your love and grace to others along the way.  Teach me to love like that, in Jesus’ name.

We visited the Vineyard Church in West Palm Beach this Sunday, and were so warmly welcomed that we felt as though we had been there forever.  There is something wonderful about entering the Father’s house and discovering siblings whom we have not yet met.

It was not the music.  It was not the preaching…or the praying…or the free style of worship that drew us.  It was the sense of relationship – relationship with God, relationship with one another, and relationship that welcomed and loved the strangers.  We had not been there before, but we knew that we were at home.

Most likely, we will not make that our every-Sunday-church-home, but it is one to which we will return frequently, especially when we are need of love and hope and encouragement.  When the pastor’s wife, Maria, spoke words of faith about a concern that I am carrying, I felt the brush of angels’ wings.  When Pastor Doug later, independently affirmed that hope, I knew with steady certainty that God is in control.  They are blessed people, sharing blessed hope with a blessed congregation.

Maria said, as she described the group who gathers, “We are a congregation of misfits.”  I smiled, because God’s people in this world, with citizenship in a world beyond this one, are always misfits.  That is why God’s saints are always on safari, moving toward the promised land.

You can never know who that stranger is, until s/he is no longer a stranger.  And, what an adventure it is, to turn that stranger-status into budding friendship based on knowledge.

The evening that we arrived at our campground, weary from a thousand mile journey, concerned about the decisions we had made, in need of rest and reassurance, we were met by a weathered, white haired man who looks like a crusty sea captain.  He was welcoming to our weary spirits, gentle with our confusion about how to hook up our utilities, kind with answers to our questions.  He made us feel that we really could live this great adventure that had lured us here.  He did all this so graciously, at the ending of his day, when he could have been at home in his own space, had he not been awaiting our arrival.

During the weeks, he has been a reliably friendly face, always with a wave, or a smile, or a word of cheer, as we  have seen him hard at work.  He seems to be always on duty, helping others or working about the grounds, and we have begun to worry that he needs a day off from his persistent labor to maintain the quality of service here.

On a quiet Sunday afternoon, we stood in the office and chatted with the on-duty staff.  Bob came in, and listened for awhile.  As he moved toward the door, to continue his duties, he and Abby engaged in conversation that deepened into a glimpse of his life. 

After successful careers in the corporate world,   Bob and his wife retired.  They agreed to accompany his parents from Arizona to Florida, to stay in Florida for a month or two.  On the way, his father died, and Bob and his wife stayed on, to be near his mother in her last years.

They are still here.  Bob mows, and mends, and teaches rookie campers, fulfilling many roles, performing uncounted tasks, always with a smile and a gentle spirit.  Today we learned that this kind and pleasant person has his doctorate in ministry.  He did not feel called to the pastoral ministry, but works as a laborer among those who need respite, relaxation, and recreation.  As Jesus  did, Dr. Bob ministers to the world from within the world.  What a ministry!  What a life!  What a blessing is this person. He walks among us as a safari saint of whom most people are unaware.  Yet Jesus walks with him, and the spirit of Christ touches us all.

We know very little about Enoch, except that he was a man who walked with God.  One day, he simply did not return to his earthly home.  He literally disappeared into the cosmos.  Abby likes to say that, at the end of the day, Enoch was closer to God’s house than to his own.  God said, “It’s a long way back to your house.  You might as well just come on home with me tonight.”

What a powerful story this is in its brevity!  Enoch and God enjoyed a relationship  similar to the Garden relationship of God with Adam and Eve, yet without the fracture of intimacy.  Imagine how thrilling it would be to walk right out of this world and into God’s eternal presence! 

I wonder how greatly such a man would be missed by his family and his friends, and yet they had no doubt where he had gone.  What a wonderful testimony he left.  To live in such a way that there is no question about where we go when we leave this life, that is the ultimate legacy of a saint on safari.