The Pinellas Trail

The Trail is about 37 miles of paved ex-railroad bed wending its way in a giant crescent around Pinellas County. Some years ago, politicians, cyclists, walkers, greenway-lovers and CSX Railroads made common cause to put in one of the finest trails in the country, right around the most densely-populated county in Florida. Not exactly a “ministry,” but I noticed yesterday how it’s become one.

She was rolling toward me in her powered chair as I pedaled to the south. Her face was looking up, and around. Perhaps she was just getting from here to there, but in the seconds I saw her, it didn’t look that way. I’d seen her before, but not noticed her. And I got to thinking about what the word “accessible” means to someone who can’t walk. Or maybe, I got to listening. And listening, seeing things a little more clearly.

“Accessible” means something on the Trail. The ground is level, or very nearly so, for the whole 37 miles. Even unpowered wheelchairs navigate its gentle grades and wide pathways with ease. Brilliant purple jacaranda, red hibiscus, and bougainvillea are in exuberant bloom. As you ride, the sight and rich perfume of jasmine in flower visits you. Oranges are hanging from trees in half the backyards, it seems. Ibis peck, egrets stand frozen in mid-stalk, squirrels and lizards dart. Mockingbirds proclaim everyone else’s songs. Red-winged blackbirds flash about their business.

The Trail is an easy, seamless road for the weary and faint-footed. “Accessibility” is freedom; the Trail is freedom from horns and houses. The Trail gives everyone a beautiful place. And maybe one more thing: hope.

A sign over the doorway of an assisted living facility along the Trail reads, “Your story continues here...” Loss of mobility from age or injury can be an end to someone’s story, but it doesn’t have to be. The story has a different ending than the one hoped-for, but it’s still your story, and it can continue. The trail offers Hope that each of our stories isn’t over, that there is still joy and beauty in life and the world around us.

It’s good to be thankful for the Trail, and toward the people who started and continue it. I’m sure they didn’t set out just to bring Hope to handicapped people. But they've been instruments of the greater Good, the ultimate Hope-giver, who desires to bless the ones made in his image, us. And from the amount of ink spilled in scripture about the poor and lame, I kinda think he had them especially in mind when he was putting “Pinellas Trail” thoughts into the minds and hearts of its creators.
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The Prince of Wholeness: His Waging of Peace

Our friend Jeff Ghiotto has put together a one-day workshop he calls "The Prince of Wholeness." It's a deep, interactive look at the practical and miraculous implications of that Jesus-name "Prince of Peace," from Isaiah 9:1-7. (Blog here.) I attended the first session with  about a dozen others; it was a good day, God was in a good mood, and people experienced truth and healing. (Including a physical one, which is way cool.)

"Peace" is the usual translation for the Hebrew word shalom (שָׁלוֹם). But shalom is one of those too-big-to-print-in-English words; it means safety, happiness, wellbeing, prosperity, peace, rest, welfare, wholeness, and health. (And that's just the literal meanings...contextual definitions enlarge that some more, but that'll do for now.)

Too many Christians are waging war against people and peace against the devil. Jeff invites us into the question, "What will our lives look like if the Prince of Peace wages peace on people, both in us ourselves, and through us to others?" (Which has wonderful implications for us and nasty ones for the devil, as it should be.)

Jeff and his family lived for many missionary years in Central and South America, and are fluent in Spanish. Jeff had a friend in Venzuela who translated his workshop pamphlet into the local dialect, and is now traveling through that country sharing Good News for "people in darkness" (the Isaiah context). For a 10-day tour through Hugo Chavez's Venezuela through the eyes of a man waging Peace among the believers, please go to his blog, princeofwholeness.blogspot.com. Hey...maybe your group of believers could use a dose of Shalom.

If you'd like a sample, you can hear Jeff (and other elders) on the Clearwater Vineyard teaching archive here. You might start with "Shalom Distribution" here, and "Ruling Your Sphere" here.

Peace.
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Pray for our leaders...

"First of all, then, I urge that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all people, for kings and all who are in high positions, that we may lead a peaceful and quiet life, godly and dignified in every way. This is good, and it is pleasing in the sight of God our Savior, who desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth." (1 Timothy 2:1-4)

The opinion page of the New York Times is perhaps the last place where I would look for a prayer. But Thomas Friedman plugs one into his opinion piece from March 30th. It ends, "Dear Lord, please make President Obama lucky." It's a beautiful piece, honest, and at least from my point of view, objective.

Read his article here, and, well, please pray for our leaders. Every mistake they make means they need more prayer. And we need the practice.

And I could use the, um, humility.
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...for the lonely

Talking with Cyndi the other day in a local restaurant, we came upon the business of loneliness. Bubble-people, to be exact.

You know them. They walk from point to point in a little world of their own, concentrated on thoughts their own. Sometimes the eyes are down, focused on the sidewalk ten feet ahead. Sometimes the eyes are far away, unseeing. Their owners are somewhere far, far away. Sometimes the faces reveal sullen fury; sometimes familiar hurt; sometimes what-now? desperation. Sometimes nothing at all.

Sometimes the darkening bubble isn't even a bubble of silence; it's a bubble of busyness. Look carefully, and a lot of our calendars turn out to be isolation bubbles. Alive inside, blind and dead to the world outside. Dead men walking.

Plenty of people now live vicariously through their own Facebook pages, which fill with "good news" and entertainment posts, leaving out the darker half of their realities. Like living through someone else; ironically, it's their own computer-display avatars.

People build bubbles for lots of reasons, many of them defensive and right in a limited way: coping with a family member addicted to chemicals or ambition or power, for example. But victims' isolation bubbles can outlive their usefulness and cripple us.

I said, "And then, sometimes people end up in isolation through very little or no fault of their own. I'm thinking of the 80-somethings at Regency (retirement home). As time passes, they outlive most of their old friends. It gets harder to find and make new friends, then too-quickly they die as well. It all takes energy that's become scarce. If you live long enough, you'll die alone."

Cyndi responded, "Unless... Like the Lorax."

So I started crying.

I hope you remember the story. It's a little parable about the Lorax, who takes care of the Truffula trees in the forest, beautiful trees with furry, wavy tops. One day, the Once-ler comes along with a Thneed-making machine. He starts whacking Truffula trees for their top-tufts, which of course are the basic material for a Thneed: it's a [pointless] "fine-something-that-all-people-need."

As the Once-ler proudly regards his first Thneed, a little guy pops out of the Truffula-stump: "Mister," he said with a sawdusty sneeze, "I am the Lorax! I speak for the trees! I speak for the trees, for the trees have no tongues, and I'm asking you sir at the top of my lungs! What's that THING you've made out of my Truffula tuft?"

Over the continued protests of the Lorax, the Once-ler destroys the forest and the Lorax must send away all the animals. Finally, the Lorax himself leaves, leaving only a rock with the word "UNLESS..." on it.

The bible is quite emphatic about fellowship (the Greek word is koinonia): We need it, each and all of us. (See Acts chapters 2 through 5, and the one-anothers of scripture here, for a start.) Unless we approach the lonely old people, they will die alone. For those who are involuntarily alone, a kind word can be cool drink in the hot desert. Unless we approach bubble people, they will live and die alone. Often, they see the approach, and avoid it - that's the key to maintaining the bubble, after all. But. Not. Always. Their choice - but let us at least give them the choice to exchange their bubbles for relationships.

I speak for the lonely, for the lonely have no tongues.
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Gardener

I buried a little finch this morning. He was still warm.

As I go on my daily walks, I sometimes encounter dead squirrels or birds in the roads, casualties of life in our after-Eden world. It always hurts me to see them lying there, broken, on the hard pavement. It seems so cold and hard. Usually I'll move them under a bush or something. Something...a little more natural, less clinical, less mechanical. Sometimes, I just have to put them back into the ground.

Anything that moves me emotionally, up or down, I look for the underlying "why?" of it. This one, I've known for a while. It's because, someone has to care.

God created a man, and unimaginatively named him "Man," which is all that "Adam" means. Man's job was to name the animals and watch over them all. (Remember "If I Ran the Zoo," by Dr. Seuss?)  It was a big job, and it stunk that the man was alone, so God created a powerful helper, Eve. (That's the biblical use of the Hebrew word "ezer." If you feel like a doormat-woman, read this. But I digress.)

Then the whole Fall happened, Eden was lost, and Man and Eve looked for new employment. They abandoned the animals. I imagine the animals were lonely, and I imagine they still are, in some way that we can't reach through. I know that we miss them. And I know why that tiny, warm little body felt so good in my hand this morning, as the storms moved in from the Gulf to drench us all. Man gave him a name and a place. I'm a Man. And he's still mine to take care of. Even in death.

I'm not saying everyone "save the environment" - that's only a secular cause. I'm just saying that we were made to be the tenders of the garden; that when an animal tugs at our heartstrings, we're feeling a little restoration of Eden in our hearts. God's quite clear on stewarding the good things he gives us: using them for our good, but not exploiting them. Next time it happens to you, maybe, just maybe, listen for God's Eden-heart, redeeming just a little bit more of our Fallen world to Himself. And You as well, son of Adam, daughter of Eve.
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The Skit Guys

I first saw The Skit Guys five years ago at a Youth Specialties convention. This little piece, done in front of about 3000 people who love to work with young people, made me cry with laughter...and then with something else. If you ever need to be told, "Thanks," then this might be for you. Sometimes people notice, even when you can't tell that you're making any difference at all. (16 min.)

Peace.
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Les Miserables

I happened to see several parts of the movie Les Miserables this weekend. The story is a picture of all kinds of things where God's goodness shines through over and over again. There's the lead character, Jean Valjean: a servant, accused, harshly punished, redeemed, Grace personified. There's Javert: a police officer who tracks Valjean over the years and the miles: relentless, cold, Law personified, and ultimately killed by his own head-for-an-eye justice. There are the ones who are helped and blessed by Valjean along the course of his life.

And there's The Bishop. (Not the frilly entitled kind. The Real kind.) Here's a little of the conversation when Valjean arrives at the bishop's front door, asking shelter, announcing his name and nineteen year in prison, as required by his parole:

...turning to his guest: "The night wind is harsh on the Alps. You must be cold, sir."

Each time that he uttered the word sir, in his voice which was so gently grave and polished, the man's face lighted up. Monsieur to a convict is like a glass of water to one of the shipwrecked of the Medusa. Ignominy thirsts for consideration.

"This lamp gives a very bad light," said the Bishop.

Madame Magloire understood him, and went to get the two silver candlesticks from the chimney-piece in Monseigneur's bed-chamber, and placed them, lighted, on the table.

"Monsieur le Cure," said the man, "you are good; you do not despise me. You receive me into your house. You light your candles for me. Yet I have not concealed from you whence I come and that I am an unfortunate man."

The Bishop, who was sitting close to him, gently touched his hand. "You could not help telling me who you were. This is not my house; it is the house of Jesus Christ. This door does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer, you are hungry and thirsty; you are welcome. And do not thank me; do not say that I receive you in my house. No one is at home here, except the man who needs a refuge. I say to you, who are passing by, that you are much more at home here than I am myself. Everything here is yours. What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me you had one which I knew."

The man opened his eyes in astonishment.

"Really? You knew what I was called?"

"Yes," replied the Bishop, "you are called my brother."

"Stop, Monsieur le Cure," exclaimed the man. "I was very hungry when I entered here; but you are so good, that I no longer know what has happened to me."  (Les Miserables, Vol. 1, Book 2nd, Chap. 3)

***

Now that's a man of God. I want to know what he has to say; I want to be around a guy whose heart infects others with wonder and hope. Valjean's notion of who he is ("I'm a convict") is shattered and his identity is transformed by his one evening with The Bishop. Valjean becomes, in midlife, a picture of the name he's owned since birth: "Valjean" means "powerful gift of God."

Reading the book takes a lot of time, but it's a masterpiece. If you like The Bishop's meeting with Valjean in the text above, follow the link to Wikisource and read the rest of their encounter. The bishop's backstory begins here; in fact, the Bishop is the one who starts the whole book off. If he weren't who God designed him to be, full of grace and generosity, a contrast to his often-rich and corrupt peers, we wouldn't have a book at all.

The funny thing is, there isn't a clue in Victor Hugo's biography to indicate that he's a Christian. But that sure didn't stop God from shining right through him into our lives, and certainly mine, today.

Free e-book via Gutenberg: ePub/Nook/iPad, Kindle/MOBI, and other formats.
Hardcover: Les Miserables (Everyman's Library).
Broadway musical touring production: Les Miserables.
Movie (Liam Neeson version, reviewers love first half, second is unlike book/musical): Les Miserables.
There are several movie versions out there (at least three more) - try the library.
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Real eyes...

I've been in a kind of blogging ebb lately, between taxes, other stuff, and, well, an ebb. Like, ebb tide. Not exactly discouraged, just kind of. So I was looking forward to lunch with my friend Dave. Good times.

As we walked toward our cars, I noticed a front-bumper plate on a gray SUV:

Real Eyes
Realize
Real Lies

It took a minute to sink in, and all I could think was, "Wow..." Dave and I just been talking about how we miss God's greatest for us, often by trading our forever identity as favored kids of God for temporary securities in the world around us (money, questionable relationships, etc.). (Take-home quiz: what have you traded lately?)

So I bent over and took a picture to remember it for...the blog. Talk about a kiss from the Lord; here was something I couldn't wait to share. And this thing was really well done; it had some graphics on it that along with the text added up to, "Now that's a woman, and she's been HURT...and she's learned something along the way." Something we could all afford to learn. Something we all need, from the only one who can give us Real Eyes.

• Real Eyes - To discern truth from deception and confusion, to distinguish between good and evil spirits. But also, even to present Real Eyes to those around us, to show our eyes to the world instead of hiding our work-in-progress Christianity behind a mask.
• Realize - To understand down deep, but also to "REAL-ize," to make real the truth we've seen.
• Real Lies - Be they malicious or just confusion, we are surrounded by lies about God's character, the completeness and accuracy of the bible he gave us, and ourselves.

But wait, there's more.

So I've taken the picture and we're finishing the conversation before heading off. Out of the side door of the restaurant comes a lady - the lady. She saw my interest, and she wanted to talk.

A few years ago she was going through a really hard time in her life, and she had a dream. I guess there was some drama going on in the foreground, but on a wall in the background were those words, big as life. Just like that. Totally out of the clear blue.

"I knew it was from the Lord, for me," she said. I told her I wrote a blog, and asked if she would mind if I used it. "I love to tell people about this; go ahead."

I hope she keeps doing that. I wish I could bottle up her story and her joy to carry around share with everyone (starting at our home church!). Heck, I hope she does the whole bumper plate, T-shirt, etc. thing and makes a bazillion dollars out of it. I have a feeling she'd use it well.

We talked a little longer, and then we all parted: me to review a paper, Dave to do some writing, and she to her now-cold lunch. But we were all a little warmer from God's love.

It was a great lunch. Who knew? 
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