The Seventh Hour

A view of Cana (close to Nazareth), taken about 100 years ago.

The royal official said to Him, "Sir, come down before my child dies." Jesus said to him, "Go; your son lives." The man believed the word that Jesus said to him and started off.  John 4:49-50

It was nearly 24 miles (38 km) from Capernaum to Cana. That's about an eight-hour walk one way--almost the distance of a marathon--which is a long way to go for a dad whose young son is so ill that he's dying. It's an interminable journey for a dad whose thoughts are going in frantic circles, hoping against hope that his feverish boy's life can be saved.

And Jesus' response to this man?  "Unless you people see signs and wonders, you simply will not believe."

What is THAT all about?

This isn't about believing; it's about desperation and hope and no other options. The dad won't be swayed. He's walked (or ridden, if he had some kind of animal to carry him) until he is beyond tired, and for all he knows, his son may have died in the meantime. As with so many of the people who received healing from Jesus, this dad is single-minded, focused, persistent, and can't be distracted from his heartfelt need. "Come down before my child dies!" he pleads, ignoring all that stuff about a sign and belief.  "Come down before my child dies!"  Please!

And Jesus answers simply: "Go; your son lives."

When the father checks with his servants later, he hears that his son's fever broke at the seventh hour, just at the time when Jesus heard his plea and responded. The dad didn't actually see the result of Jesus' words until the next day. But afar off, down winding roads and into the bowl of hills that surrounds the sea of Galilee, back in his son's sickroom, the healing had taken place.

So often we wait ... and wait ... and wait, thinking that the healing is yet ahead of us for some great need that we have. We've asked Jesus for help, and we believe He can and will help. But we think the answer we so desperately want is still ahead of us. Maybe tomorrow. Or next week. Or later. But it hasn't begun yet.

That's the unexpected thing about the kingdom of God, which became visible to us in the appearance and life of this Man, Jesus. His answer comes "at the seventh hour," in the moment when He hears our plea for healing. We may not see it until much later. We may have a "marathon" to walk until we perceive the evidence of God's loving response to our prayers to Him. But what an amazing thing it is to eventually be able to look back and to see that the answer began in the moment when we asked and believed!

I'm thinking about that. It seems to take quite a bit of living and a willingness to keep an open heart before we can turn around and see the evidence of "the seventh hour." God's clock works on a completely different paradigm and in a completely different dimension from ours.  So with that, I'm going to start praying daily for some seemingly impossible things as I go into the new year ahead. Let the Seventh Hour commence!

A Blessed Christmas

Wishing you all a wonderful Christmas from California! We're looking forward to having nearly all our immediate family here today, and that includes the five Grands. As it was when I was a kid, I'm awake early with anticipation. And I'm taking a moment to be thankful to God for that amazing gift of Himself in human form, the Gift that offers us each an invitation to faith, hope, and love.

Let Heaven and Nature sing!

He Will Not Leave Us

Pismo Beach, as we recently saw it. Because I don't have a photo to illustrate this topic.

It has been a week today since a young man broke into an elementary school in Connecticut and killed 26 staff and students. The story hit me hard, very hard, as it did many people. Outside of the bottomless grief that the families and friends of these people are experiencing, I think that those of us who work in the field of education have experienced an added dimension to our sense of horror and grief at the story and photos from Newtown. We place that story in our own context, see the faces of the children we have loved and served, and know that this could have happened in any one of our own schools, to us and to our own students. We are defenseless against utter Evil.

We can do so little to try to stave off this kind of threat, this brand of horror.  I'm not sure I can explain my thoughts about the incident clearly, but I will begin by saying that, quite paradoxically, I find myself mulling over how people can process happenings like these, and believe that there is no God. 

How can I say such a thing? I invite you to consider this shooting and all the others that have tagged along in the remembrances as people tried to make any sense of the growing pattern, as conversations ran along the lines of seeking a cure for this violent spreading cancer in our society. In nearly every case the shooter (or shooters, in the case of Columbine) has completed his deed by killing himself. The aim is destruction, destruction of people and of oneself. There is utter disregard for the value of life, utter intent to kill, utter commitment to destroy oneself. This is the nature of Evil. Utter Evil.

It takes my mind back to the story of a mother in Texas who killed her five children, saying that Satan told her to do it. She was convinced that if she did kill all her children, the state would kill her and complete the job of the killing. Her tale is one of darkness, despair, and destruction. She ended her account by saying that when Satan was done, he left her. When the psychiatrist asked why he left, this mother said, "He destroys and then he leaves."

"He destroys and then he leaves." That phrase has stuck with me in the more-than-ten years since that tragedy. It is the accurate description of what happens in all of these situations. Evil destroys and then leaves, its aims being accomplished. In each subsequent tragedy I've read about in the news, the pattern has held. People are destroyed, lives are destroyed, a trail of destruction is left behind, littering the earth with death. In some other parts of the world where I have lived, the destruction wrought by Evil is much more visible on the surface of life; in north America, we get these little windows on Evil and tragedy, and we seem to get them more often as earth's history marches on.

I believe that Evil exists. We see its face, sometimes just for brief moments, and sometimes completely unveiled as it happened last Friday. I can't imagine that anyone would disagree with me on Evil's existence, and its existence in that specific massacre.

So if we believe in Evil, an Evil that is greater than us, then how can we not believe in Good, a Good that is greater than us? (The alternative, to simply believe in Evil without accepting the duality, is a truly hopeless philosophy.) Where does the Good come from, as seen in the kindness and caring that people so often demonstrate toward others? What about those times when people reach outside of themselves to help, to sustain, to give life? How can we daily see those glimpses of Good that are the complete antithesis of evil and destruction, and then blithely brush them aside and doubt the existence of some great Good? And it's not just a yin-yang of Good and Evil in equal strengths. The nature of the Good that we see in human beings, in the beauty around us, in love and generosity and selflessness of people... that Good is greater than Evil. It overcomes Evil. It makes quiet choices that stand in stark contrast to those twin characteristics of Evil--destruction and abandonment.  "He destroys and then he leaves."

It bothers me some that I'm making the argument, essentially, that "I believe in Evil, therefore I believe in God." I don't look at it that way. I actually believe along the lines of "I see and experience God in so many ways from the quiet voice and evidences of leading in my life, to the intricacies of nature; therefore I believe that a God of Love, good and beauty exists." My point, I suppose, is this: I see many people who are willing to admit the existence Evil from the evidences, but balk at the concept of God from the contrary evidences. That is what puzzles me.

I believe that there is a God (or whatever you want to call the personification of Love/Good), and that there is a Satan (or whatever you want to call the personification of Destruction/Evil).  I believe that there is a cosmic conflict between the two, and that we see little glimpses of that conflict in our everyday lives. And I believe that someday God will bring an end to the destruction, and will--if you are willing to put it in biblical terms--"make all things new."  I believe that God/Love "will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain," (Rev. 21:4) because the old way of things--destruction and abandonment--will pass away. I choose to put my hope and faith in this. As my friend Jodi is fond of saying, "It can't come soon enough."

God is Love, and Love is God, and does not leave us alone. Love stays. For the sake of all of us, and especially for the Newtown families right now, I can hardly wait for that day when the tears are wiped away from eyes, and when--in ways that I'm sure will be surprising to all of us regardless of our beliefs--we will be surprised and surrounded by Love that will never let us go.