It is February and my roses are a memory and a promise. But, I have an old tropical hibiscus plant that I move in and out of the house according to the seasons. Bringing it in just before first frost, it continues to bloom for a few days and then goes into dormancy. It takes time for it to become acclimated to indoor light and atmosphere. Since October, it has put on new growth and this week it started blooming again. Each bloom is six inches of stunning, crimson beauty. A bloom lasts just one day – it is important to pay attention, and to celebrate each short-lived blossom.

Sometime in the next week I will become ‘nana’ to my first grandchild.* My daughter is very ready for this child to be born – and so am I! Nine months is a long time. We have all been actively waiting, actively praying, actively dreaming of relationship to come, actively imagining God’s knitting together of this precious child in his or her mother’s womb (see Psalm 139).

Merton once told me to quit trying so hard in prayer. He said: “how does an apple ripen? It just sits in the sun.” A small green apple cannot ripen in one night by tightening all its muscles, squinting its eyes and tightening its jaw in order to find itself the next morning miraculously large, red, ripe, and juicy beside its small green counterparts. Like the birth of a baby or the opening of a rose (or hibiscus), the birth of the true self takes place in God’s time. We must wait for God, we must be awake; we must trust in his hidden action within us.[1]

This is all about ‘becoming’ who or what we were designed to become. A small green apple becomes a Red Delicious. A rose becomes a rose, not a hibiscus. A pregnant woman becomes a mother and a child.

            All in time – God’s perfect time.

Who is God?

Who am I?

Who am I becoming?  . . . .

*A side note: Lewis William entered the world on February 19 and has stolen his ‘nana’s’ heart.

 [1] From Merton’s Palace of Nowhere by James Finley

In August, when my garden is a riot of color and in its richest maturity of the summer, April peeks through. The tender and delicate leaves of my Grape Hyacinth emerge amidst my perennials and annuals, my roses, lavender and daisies and my geranium and petunias. 

Grape Hyacinth come from bulbs. The April blooms need the August emergence. The grass-like leaves could easily be mistaken for an invasion of unwanted weeds in my summer flower bed that needs a ruthless weeding. But these lovely leaves come in August and remain green in my winter garden waiting for the April blooms, receiving the nourishment of the sun’s rays and transferring that energy to the bloom that is still a twinkle in God’s eye.

When the calendar says April has arrived, the grassy leaves make way for six-inch spikes of tiny blue flowers fused together and resembling a cluster of grapes. These lovely early to mid-spring bloomers add a rich bluish/purple contrast to my early tulips, crocus and daffodils.

Why bother in August to celebrate the common-looking, grassy leaves of this April bloomer?

• Hope!  There is a long winter between August and April. When one’s soul seems dry and neglected, disconnected from the life of the Spirit, we must pay attention to the evidence of God’s faithful action on one’s heart. God often shows up in unexpected places and unnoticed ways. Hope in the fulfillment of the promises of God keeps us straining toward Him during the winter season of the soul.
• Belief! During the dark nights of the soul’s winter season, it is easy to believe that we have been forgotten by God. The knowledge that He never leaves or forsakes us, that He is a God of mercy and steadfast love who often works behind the scenes, keeps us grounded and believing that the Spring will come, in His time.
• Trust! The God who doesn’t fail to bring the leaves to life in August, will not fail to bring the fruit of flowers in April. We don’t need to wonder ‘if;’ we can trust Him for ‘when.’
• Peace! Fear and anxiety are enemies of the soul that longs to believe, hope and trust in the God who both set the stars in place and intimately knows the need and desire of individual hearts. He is faithful, He is able, and He can be trusted. When we know Him as He truly is, we can experience the “peace that makes no sense at all.”

The discipline of waiting for April to arrive may be hardest of all. However, I don’t want to rush from August to April. There are many God-gifts to be received between now and then. I don’t want to miss any of them.

The grand Creator who takes the time to bring all things to fruition.

Watching and waiting.

Celebrating the leaves; waiting for the fruit.

©2009 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

My backyard is shaded by my neighbor’s giant cottonwood trees. There are five or six of them lining the fence we share and the leaves sing in the breeze, shade my yard, and need to be raked from my grass in the fall. 

Two years ago during a devastating early fall snow, numbers of branches of these great cottonwoods broke from the weight of the snow on branches still bearing their autumn leaves.  My heart broke as I heard the terrible snap and crack.

Since that time, I have done what I can to prune the broken and lifeless branches that extend over my side of the fence and my neighbors have long since cleared the dead branches that they can reach.  And, since then, new growth has beautifully emerged and covered ugly gashes left by wind and snow. 

Halfway up one tree, however, is a large, broken branch still hanging on with dead leaves that rustle, but no longer sing, in the breeze.  The branch is too high for me or for my neighbors to prune. And so, it stays, mixed among the fully leafed, singing branches of the tree – a testimony to life without Jesus. 

You see, this lifeless branch will not be removed without an expert.  It requires an arborist who knows the nature of broken trees, who can climb to the heart of the break with the appropriate tools required to remove that which is dead enabling new life to grow in its place.  Without the intervention of the arborist the branch will remain.

The dead branch is on the back side of the tree – the side facing my deck – so the lifeless branch in desperate need of the arborist may be hidden from my neighbor’s view.  We all are so very gifted at hiding – hiding from one another the lifeless places within our souls, pretending that all is life-filled and well pruned. Try as we might to cover over these broken places within, they remain and have their affect on the health of our whole selves. We may hide our need from one another, but it is quite silly to try to hide from God.

The Arborist of our souls is present to us, knows our need, and awaits our call for mercy.  He is the only one with the ‘tools’ proper to the task of removing what separates us from Himself and from the abundant life He desires for us.

Sometimes we may know about the broken places in our hearts, but don’t have the energy or inclination to call to the Arborist for healing.  What we have now is “good enough.” The dead weight of this brokenness, however, is a great burden to carry and leaves us weary from the effort.

What can make me whole again? Nothin’ but the blood of Jesus.
What can wash away my sin? Nothin’ but the blood of Jesus.

I wish this was a one-time call.  I wish that confession of need at my conversion was all that was required of me. But He knows that if this were the case, it would lead to my prideful boasting of my righteousness.  Instead, like David, my sin is always before me (Ps 51) and, like the hymnist, I am “prone to wander, . . . prone to leave the God I love.” So, my confession of need is ever present to me. And, like the steadfast love of God, my confession of sin, my call for grace-filled forgiveness, is new every morning.

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word is not in us (1Jo 1:9-10).

Do you, also, have lifeless places in your heart that you have tried to hide from the gracious gaze of God? Places where sin separates you from life in and through Christ Jesus? 

Let them go. Daily, call the Arborist of your soul and invite Him to do His work in you. And, call a friend who will companion you in this essential journey to the throne of grace. You will like the experience of freedom from the weight of sin. And, your life in the Kingdom for the sake of others will be richer with impact for His glory.

God is: Gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.

Jesus is: The answer to our sinful selves

The Spirit is: Wooing us to come

Daily in need of mercy

Instead of my answer to this question, what do you think? Please post your response.

©2009 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

The goal of our midnight soirée was to see the stars. The dock is a wonderful place to stargaze. The expanse of water below, without trees or lights to impede the view, provides a panorama for the show above and even creates a magnificent mirror doubling the experience of awe.

What we saw there on the dock pretty much defies description, but I will try. The Milky Way cut the sky in half. From one end of the sky to the other, the creamy, thick yet translucent, misty phenomenon led the eye, inviting us to follow its eternal course across the span. Stars and planets, large and small, without number, made me dizzy. A bright one in the east was probably a planet and out-shown its near neighbors. The Dippers, Orion and all were displayed before us in unashamed glory. When I tired of looking up, I realized the entire scene was reflected in the water.

Our responses to this scene before us – “wow!,” “oh, my!” and a gasp of surprise. We wished for a telescope to look more closely and a beginner-level astronomy book to help us identify and understand what lay before us.

I was surprised by this display. Although I’ve seen it before, marveled at its magnificence and been humbled by its vastness, it all surprised me again. I easily forget what I don’t venture to see.

As I lay on the dock, my thoughts went to the young shepherd boy tending his flock night after night under this canopy centuries ago. Although nighttime demanded that he be vigilant in protecting his flock from predator dangers, it was also a time for him to ponder what lay above him – Who lay above him and beside him. What stuns and surprises me only a few times a year, David pondered in every cloudless night.

The shepherd-king’s response to this glorious sight –

Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!

You have set your glory above the heavens.

Through the praise of children and infants you have established a stronghold against your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger.

When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what are mere mortals that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them? . . .

Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! (Psalm 8)

Compared to the glory of the heavens, and the transcendent God whose creative power designed them, set them in place and on their path in relation one to another, why, O Lord, would you care for we mere mortals?

Like David, I felt small last night. Lying on my back beneath such a glorious and awesome sight, I was properly and appropriately humbled. And, I was grateful. The truth is that, though human arrogance and sinfulness means I can’t fathom why, the Creator of the heavens – of the Dippers, Orion, and the Milky Way – cares for me, for you, for every one of us.

He has displayed His glory in the heavens through the work of His fingers

Small and loved

I’m going back down to the lake tonight!

©2009 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

I’ve always just reluctantly given up on LBJs. Normally, one uses this pseudonym because they’ve seen the bird too briefly to name it.  Too fast, too fleeting, too hard to distinguish. Today a small flock of LBJs fed all day on the ground under my feeders – behavior and preferences point to identity.  I am seated at the bay window, not fifteen feet from the creatures, with my trusty bird guide and my binoculars. At this distance, it’s like putting the little things under a microscope! But the book and the bird just don’t match up! Very frustrating.

With these little guys hanging around for so long and with my unusual proximity, I should be able to definitively name them.  Brown and black, heavily streaked back and streaked breast (this was the rub). Gray collar.  And so, I turned to the possibility that these were unusual sightings.  What birds have streaked backs AND streaked breasts?  I tried to make them Pine Siskins (no yellow, feed on coniferous trees—not from feeders or the ground), female finches or grosbeaks (feed from feeders, not the ground, too big, wrong shaped beak, no males in the group).

When all this was done, my best guess was that these were juvenile birds. The young ones always make identification tricky because adult plumage for small birds comes at the end of the first summer or at the beginning of the second year.  Young eagles take years to get their white tail and head feathers.

Instead of being an unusual sighting, these LBJs were common and frequent visitors to the ground below my feeders.  Unaccompanied by an adult, these were teenaged Chipping Sparrows, just fledged from the nest and learning together how to care for their own feeding.  Even though they didn’t have the coloration of an adult Chipper, I finally decided to let them be Chippers. Sometimes ‘letting it go’ is more prudent than trying to see something that isn’t there.

An hour or so later, sure enough, a male adult Chipping Sparrow came through. Finally, a definitive identification.

As growing disciples of Christ, and as a spiritual companion to others, there are lessons in this encounter with juvenile Chipping Sparrows. 

• Being unable to identify my own, or a friend’s, soul-need can be frustrating. This may have more to say of my need to fix a problem than it does anything else. God the Spirit knows the name of the heart issue and the timing for its surrender and healing. 

• It is tempting to try to assign some unique heart condition to a problem.  But as Solomon in Ecclesiastes tells us, there is nothing new under the sun.  When the heart is crying for healing and release into truth, we need to peel back the deceptive layers that keep us from uncovering the core issues common to human beings since Adam and Eve. The conditions that have always been are likely culprits behind our soul’s need today.

• “Behavior and preferences point to identity.” If one’s behavior is incongruent with who one claims to be, there is a rub that needs to be addressed.

• Tenacity to the process is essential.  It takes courage to stay with one’s longing and pain.  The “bird guide” and binoculars are essential tools – we need to read Scripture deeply, meditatively, and engage widely of the best ancient and modern writers on the spiritual life. We need to pray and listen. And, ultimately, “letting go” will be the best course of all. Surrender into the Father’s loving and gracious arms is where we find our truest selves.

• The discipline of waiting may be hardest of all.  Waiting and perseverance produce faith and trust.  He knows who we are and what we need.

He knows my need.

Often, I’m an LBJ.

Sometimes, I’m trying to figure it out by myself.

Seeking to be engaged in the process of my own becoming and surrendered to the Maker’s care.

© 2009 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

Open our eyes, Lord; we want to see Jesus.
To reach out and touch him, and say that we love him.
Open our ears, Lord; and help us to listen.
Open our eyes, Lord; we want to see Jesus.

I am once again in Northern Wisconsin (see blog entries from last July). This is a place where seeing, listening and believing come easily for me. 

For since the creation of the world, God’s invisible qualities – his eternal power and divine nature – have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse (Romans 1:20).

“Invisible qualities...have been clearly seen.” How can that be? Invisibility and visual perception seem to be obvious contradictions.

Last fall I had opportunity to give a brief testimony. Each of us was asked to name the person and context of our coming to faith. Most people named a family member, friend or pastor who shared Christ’s gospel and invited them to believe in a predictable context – church, camp, youth group. To be sure, many individuals have had a hand in my own faith journey. But first and foremost, I named God’s work of general revelation in creation as my first witness to faith in God.

General or Universal Revelation is God’s self-disclosure through creation and human beings that is evident to all who will see. He does not hide himself from us. Rather, he is disclosing himself at all times and in all places.

So, here I am again, in the midst of the forest, lakes, and sky asking for my eyes and ears to be open and attentive to God’s evidence of his eternal power and his divine nature – those “invisible qualities” that have been “clearly seen.” 

God’s divine nature is that which makes him “wholly other” from everything else in existence. God is God; I am not God. He is perfectly holy, pure, just, righteous, benevolent, merciful, and more. I am not those things and can only aspire to them by the gracious action on my heart of a loving heavenly Father, the risen Christ, and the faithful prick of conscience coming from the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Here, in Wisconsin, I know myself to be small and finite in comparison to what I experience around me. I am always healthier from time spent taking in this good perspective adjustment.

God’s eternal power is evidenced in his creating, sustaining, and redeeming of all that is. This is what I most readily “see” here in the Northwoods. The magnificent extravagance of creation takes my breath away. I’ve seen five species of woodpecker – five! (Red bellied, red headed, hairy, downy, and pileated. No, these are not my own made-up names!) Each species has a different and distinct coloration, habit, call, and attitude.

There are thousands of tiny black tadpoles at the water’s edge. These are hopefuls of the familiar, green water frogs that we call “Nelson” – after the name of the lake – that hang around in the cattails and under the canoe. Only a few will survive to become full-fledged Nelsons.

There are also some frog singers at the end of the lake. Can’t see ‘em, but you can sure hear them. And, the sand toads are everywhere this year. The color of the sand and hiding among the leaves, they startle me as I walk the path. I praise God for every bug, mosquito or spider upon which they dine.

The sustaining and redeeming power of God is in plain sight through the cycle of life that is everywhere.[1] Life to death, death to life, winter to spring. A tiny pine tree sprouts out of the peat of an ancient rotting stump. The loon nest failed again this year because the eagle made dinner of the loon’s single egg. But the loon pair will stay with us for the summer, migrate south to their wintering home, and wait patiently for next spring and another opportunity to raise a loon chick.

The forest floor is carpeted with dancing fern. These stand eighteen inches high and magically capture the morning light as they sway in the breeze.

The frond is tightly closed at first, slowly unfurling when it is ready.

Looking closely, with a magnifying glass, the tiny veins in each individual leaf make me believe in miracles and in the power of God to care for the details of my own life.

I’m thankful that communion took longer than expected yesterday. I’m thankful for the reminder of the prayer request for God the Spirit to open our eyes and ears. I’m thankful for the forest and lake and sky that disclose to us God’s invisible qualities. 

Open our eyes, Lord; we want to see Jesus.

Making himself known through all that he has made.

Eager to see the Invisible.

Trying not to blink!

©2009 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

[1] God’s ultimate redemption of human beings comes through surrendering to Christ Jesus’ incarnation, death and resurrection, which is God’s power and character expressed in “special” rather than “general” revelation.

My mom died in February. My sister and I were with her when she left us behind and entered into an eternal dance. The realities of life and death, the strange, circuitous path of grief, have taken me into an odd time with unfamiliar, yet strangely very familiar, experiences.

I’ve been at home; I’ve been working and interacting with friends and family. I’ve still done laundry and washed dishes, listened and companioned students. But the odd experiences are beneath all these. It is in peripheral vision, just beneath the surface of consciousness, somewhat formless in character, yet I’m confident it is there. I can almost hear it, almost feel it. And, so, because I can’t turn to it, grasp it with my hands and engage it with intentional focus, I continue working and interacting with friends and family. I still do laundry and wash the dishes. I still cherish the privilege of listening to and companioning students.

What else can I do? Spiritually, I tell my Companion that I am willing to engage the peripheral. And He has said, “When it is time.” So I continue on with what I can see and seek to stay attentive to what is elusively, invisibly present.

Today is a grand day in my life. Today is the first day that I’ve retreated to my Sanctuary. My Sanctuary is under my deck on a concrete pad. There are two robin’s egg blue Adirondack chairs overlooking the flowerpots now planted and the grass and trees that are beginning to grow. This is my summer place of devotion. I leave my living room chair for these months and settle here.

My journal entry for today written this morning while seated in my robin’s egg blue chair: May 12, 2009

Mother’s Day weekend just passed. We went to church and I was so thankful for the sensitivity and focus of the day. Childlessness was acknowledged and honored just as motherhood was honored.

Then we went to Denver’s Botanic Garden. Toward the end of the walk, I felt myself becoming increasingly sad; I wanted to cry.

I took mom to the Gardens, shared that with her. I can’t remember exactly when, I can’t really “see” her there in my memory. I wish I could. But David confirmed that I had indeed taken her there. And, I know she loved it like I do.

Today I’m sitting in my sanctuary for the first morning this year. I am even more passionate this year about spring, green, leaves, birds and birdsong. It’s like I need them. Something deep inside me is craving these in a way I’ve not known before. My senses are peaked, attentive, sensitive. I’m “enjoying” being here among it all. But there is also some part of me that can’t take it in. Strange.

What is this, Lord?

Is the name of this “grief”?

I am yours, Lord. Enable me to embrace all you have for me here. The birds -- finches, chickadee, robin, dove -- all sing creation melodies. The lilac is beginning to bloom spreading its fragrance across the yard. The grass is green and growing, ready for a fresh mow. And, the leaves on the trees -- the sound of their singing in the breeze goes deep into my soul. Deep, so deep.

They sigh and something hidden in me sighs a great moan. At last, the tears come.

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me.

Faithful. Oh, so faithful.

Dependent upon God to reveal Himself, and to reveal to me what I need.

Stumbling along. My eyes on You, my hope secure.

©2009 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

This morning, I turned my chair around to face the painting that hangs behind it. The Cycle of Life, a hand-painted lithograph by Canadian artist Donna Kriekle. An apple tree branch is woven into a wreath that gradually and naturally moves through the seasons.

It tells me this: life flows from one season to the next. Winter gives way to Spring, Spring to Summer, Summer to Autumn, Autumn to Winter, Winter to Spring...

What time is it today?

Yesterday, I spotted the first emergence of my earliest tulips! Already, January fifth, Spring is pressuring Winter to let go of its grip.

Yesterday, too, my eighty-three year old mother surrendered another part of her life to an end that is pressing us all. Her body is letting go.

Is this, then, a time to weep or a time to laugh? A time to mourn or a time to dance?

Could it be both?

You, Lord, created time and existed before time. In your love and wisdom, you orchestrate events and lives, births and deaths, to accomplish your will in salvation history.

The birth of John - prepared the way.
The birth of Jesus, Emmanuel - brought God to us.
The death of Herod - brought the end of oppression and exile.
The death of John - brought Jesus' ministry into focus.
The death of Jesus - brought salvation and reconciliation to all he created.

My tulips are emerging into Spring. My mom is dying into eternal life.

Today is a time to weep and a time to laugh. As we mourn, she is preparing to dance!

Postscript:

Normally, I end blog postings by asking and answering The Three Questions. Today, I have tried to engage these questions implicitly within the text of the essay.

Birds do this.  A joyful noise is made by the wind when it whistles through the leaves in the trees. During autumn days in Estes Park, Colorado, you can hear the eerie sound of elk calling for a mate. Joyful noises - chattering squirrels, mooing cattle, baa-ing sheep, honking geese. Laughing children and conversation among friends.

† Help me, Lord, to be awake and attentive to these sounds. I ignore them, or I get irritated by them, and view them as interruptions in my peace and quiet. Instead, let me connect them to you. Let me hear creation's obedient response to your command, and let me join in!

Worship the Lord with gladness;
     come into his presence with singing.

Gladness doesn't have to do with circumstantial happiness. Our gladness comes from knowing our creator God and being in right relationship with him.

Know that the Lord is God.
It is he that made us, and not we ourselves [NASV];
We are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.

God is the Maker and we are the ones he has made.  He is the Shepherd; we are the sheep.  God is distinct from every created thing.

This line symbolizes the distinction between the being of God and the being of whatever is on the other side of the line. Often, we view this line not as a solid, ontological division but as dotted and permeable. Functionally, we live believing that we can be God in our own lives and in the lives of others. God is God; I am not God. The sheep are not their own shepherd. The clay is not its own potter. The great arrogance of human beings is that we think we are God.

This arrogance is clear in Isaiah 29:15-16.

Ha! You who hide a plan too deep for the Lord,
     whose deeds are in the dark, and who say,
          "Who sees us?  Who knows us?"

You turn things upside down!
Shall the potter be regarded as the clay?
Shall the thing made say of its maker,
          "He did not make me";
     or the thing formed say of the one who formed it,
          "He has no understanding" [of me]?

Robert Mulholland calls this a "self-referenced" life. This describes "a way of being in the world with others that has grounded its identity, meaning, value and purpose in a matrix of relationships, activities and things in which God has no meaningful role."[1] On the other hand, a God-referenced identity is one that remembers God as the central, defining component of our being. Right relationship with God is essential for life.

It is he that made us-He is the Potter; we are the clay. He is the Shepherd; we are his sheep.

† Creator God, I confess my propensity to assume the position that rightfully and exclusively belongs to you. Humble me that I might remain always in right relationship to you.

So...Therefore, we

Enter His gates with thanksgiving,
     and His courts with praise.
Give thanks to Him, bless His name.

Because...

For the Lord is good;
     His steadfast love endures forever,
     and His faithfulness to all generations.

† Lord, forgive me for so often forgetting the countless occasions of your goodness, your love, and your faithfulness to me. Forgive me for doubting that your goodness will find me today, here and now in my present need. Forgive me for questioning and resisting your steadfast (unwavering, persistent, unconditional) love for me, for embracing fear and worry as more real than your faithful provision over my life. 

As I enter these days of Thanksgiving, help me remain rightly related to you. May my heart and voice be lifted to you in worship, praise and thanksgiving that you are God.

God is God; good, loving and faithful.

I am not God; I am the sheep of his pasture, the clay dependent upon the Potter. The grateful recipient of God's goodness, steadfast love, and faithfulness.

Help me, Lord, to remain in right relationship with you, and be thankful.

©2008 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

[1] M. Robert Mulholland, Jr., The Deeper Journey: The Spirituality of Discovering Your True Self (Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2006), 165.

The cruelties of Hitler's efforts to exterminate the Jews were processed through the eyes of Bruno. Like the little boy who ousted the emperor with no clothes, Bruno struggled to make sense of the incongruities between what he heard in his home and the life and suffering of his young friend.

"God On Trial" is set in Auschwitz within a barracks where Jewish men await their turn to die. These men -- a lawyer, a glove maker, a doctor, a rabbi, and dozens of  ordinary men with ordinary families and businesses -- are thinking theologically about where they are, what has happened to them and to the Jewish people, about the evil of Hitler, and the apparent absence of God. They turn to the Torah to try to make sense of their present circumstances and the history of God's relationship with their ancestors. They place God on trial with witnesses for the defense and the prosecution. The question posed: Has God broken his covenant with his chosen people?

In Germany last April, my attention was arrested and my imagination engaged by a small Holocaust memorial in Wittenberg. Placed in the ground next to the church where Luther preached, is a bronze slab with a cross cut into it. From beneath the cross, a festering ooze emerges. This oozing symbolizes the sin and the guilt of the atrocities inflicted upon the Jewish people. It cannot be suppressed; atonement for sin is required.

These three -- the movies and the memorial -- come together today and give me much to consider.

When I read the Gospels, I like to imagine that I would not be one of the number calling for Jesus' crucifixion. That, by God's grace, I would accompany Mary to the tomb carrying burial spices for my Lord's body, or that I would have been with Mary Magdalene when she courageously, and for the love of Christ, anointed Jesus' feet with expensive perfume. But I know that I am like all the others and capable of great sin.

Our cognitive beliefs about God and about human beings need to be compared with our functional beliefs. Although we may believe ourselves to be loving toward all human beings and not at all racist, we have to consider whether our behavior evidences these beliefs.

Is God's grace and mercy toward me, a sinner, reflected in my actions and attitudes toward my spouse and children?

Jesus said that the Kingdom belongs to those who come with child-like faith and with eyes to see and ears to hear. May I not be so distracted by noise, and by re-defining right and wrong, that I miss Jesus' claim on my life and my service in the Kingdom.

No matter how hard we may try, it is always revealed. Like the image of the Wittenberg memorial, the effects of sin upon the soul festers and oozes out in a critical spirit, fear, bitterness, resentment, and unforgiveness. Guilt must be confessed; atonement for my sin must be claimed.

Interestingly, both movies conclude in the gas chamber. One movie depicts people afraid and in chaos; in the other, fear-filled people in unison recite the psalms. My life is peaceful, ordered, free. I work, care for my family, and freely participate in the life and ministries of my church. It is hard to imagine the suffering and terror of the gas chamber. But, on this anniversary of Kristallnacht, I can't help but ask myself: If I were driven to the gas chamber, would the God of the psalms be such a part of my soul that I could recite them to find comfort and confidence in that moment of terror?

This is the anniversary of Kristallnacht. Today is also Veteran's Day in the U.S. And, this week, we remember the Persecuted Church around the world. All of this makes me pensive and sober and grateful.

Sometimes silent; always present; wholly good and just.

A sinner, saved by grace; though deserving death, receiving mercy.

I desire that the evidence of my functional beliefs is congruent with my cognitive beliefs. Do I walk the talk?

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

©2008 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

[1] A massive, coordinated attack on Jews throughout the German Reich on the night of November 10, 1938, has come to be known as Kristallnacht, the Night of Broken Glass. The mob violence broke out as the regular German police stood by and crowds of spectators watched. Nazi storm troopers along with members of the SS and the Hitler Youth beat and murdered Jews, broke into and wrecked Jewish homes, and brutalized Jewish women and children. All over Germany, Austria, and other Nazi-controlled areas, Jewish shops and department stores had their windows smashed and contents destroyed. Synagogues were also especially targeted for vandalism, including the desecration of sacred Torah scrolls. SS leader Reinhard Heydrich reported on the 12th that 7,500 businesses had been destroyed, 267 synagogues burned and 91 Jews killed. About 25,000 Jewish men were rounded up and later sent to concentration camps where they were often brutalized by SS guards and in some cases randomly chosen to be beaten to death. The Night of Broken Glass starkly signaled a movement towards the Final Solution, a systematic program of genocide designed to annihilate every Jew in Europe. By John Stendahl, Senior Pastor, Lutheran Church of the Newtons, Newton Center, Massachusetts

This is a Pileated Woodpecker. You may not care or may consider it a waste of time to be introduced to this creature. But, I must.

When I was a child, my grandmother gave me my first bird book - Roger Tory Peterson's A Field Guide to the Birds. I loved this book and still have it on my shelf. I spent hours pondering the pictures of the birds and reading over and over the descriptions of each one. Size, description, habitat, and song. I loved going to the grove of trees near our farm to play "I spy" with her. Finding the birds in nature and matching them with the pictures in my book was pure joy and delight.

There were many birds in the book that I never saw, and probably will never see. One bird pictured that I wanted to see live was the Pileated Woodpecker. It's as large and black as a well-fed crow, has a magnificent red crest and streaks of white on the sides of its head, and large white wing patches that are visible only when it flies.

My young imagination was captivated by the sheer majesty of the bird pictured and its description: "17-19 ½ inches. A spectacular crow-sized Woodpecker with a conspicuous red crest...The great size, sweeping wing-beats, and flashing black-and-white coloration identify it at a distance."[1]

The Pileated is a powerful bird. Where some woodpeckers drill holes in trees in search of bugs, the Pileated Woodpecker excavates the whole side of the tree like an avian chain saw impatient for its lunch. It's call is a one-of-a-kind, distinctive cry that pierces the air leaving no doubt to would-be birders that the "Pileated has landed."

One day, I wanted to see this spectacular bird! Until I saw it for myself, it remained mythical - reported by others but never personally experienced.

Pileated's don't live in central Illinois where I grew up so I had little hope of seeing it for myself. This was tamed farmland; the Pileated needs old, dense deciduous and pine forest.

Northern Wisconsin is a different kind of place and presented the possibility of seeing the Pileated Woodpecker. My first experience of northern Wisconsin came on my honeymoon. It was love at first sight - forest lined roads leading into stands of young and old trees, alive and dead, leaf canopy blocking the sky from view. This is the habitat of the Pileated Woodpecker.

The first Pileated Woodpecker sighting of my life came one summer morning a few years after my honeymoon. While the rest of the family thought I had lost my mind and didn't understand all the excitement, I grabbed binoculars and camera and ran out of the house, dressed in my robe and slippers, to catch a glimpse of this mythical bird. I saw it, sort of.

The truth is that Pileated Woodpeckers are not often seen. Their unmistakable call is heard. The evidence of their having been present can be spotted in the excavated trees. But, like many others in the Peterson Field Guide, these birds are elusive, shy.

I learned long ago that to see the shy ones, I need to respectfully place myself in their environment, assume a posture of patient waiting, be alert to movements and sounds, and maybe I will be honored with a visitation.

One can wait a long time for a Pileated sighting! This past July, I did not see a single one. More than once during my days at the cottage, I dropped what I was doing and ran out into the woods sure that I had heard the unmistakable call. Neighbors on the lake said that they saw them, knew they were there, but I was never in the right place at the right time.

My fortune changed this Fall. Up North, in October, I saw them. A gift. A pair of them hung around the cottage. They come, and just as quickly, they go. I even took a few blurry photos of them, paused in their passing, on trees.

What can my lifelong penchant for this mighty bird say about the life of the soul? John Stott, a life-long birder and renowned theologian, wrote a wonderful book titled, The Birds, Our Teachers: Essays in Orni-Theology. Stott reminds readers that Jesus himself told his followers to "Consider the birds of the air" [Matthew 6:26]. Consider, pay attention, turn your focus toward, look at them with eyes that see and perceive significance. "This will certainly include our study and appreciation of their plumage and behaviour. But the Bible tells us that birds have lessons to teach us as well."[2]

Lesson 1: Like the Pileated Woodpecker, the soul is shy, reclusive. Awake and aware to any danger, the soul will hide in the presence of any who may mock expression of need or heart's desire. If we want to engage the soul of a friend, we need to be patient while we respectfully place ourselves in an environment conducive to engagement. And yet, though we may be unaware, the soul emerges often. When a friend tells you that his prayer life is dry, do you stop to listen, ask a deeper question? Or, do you brush it off saying yours is too and move on to safer topics like the Bronco's game? If a friend mentions anxiety, do you stop to ask more and to pray, or do you rush on to the urgent?

Lesson 2: The bug-hunting excavations of the Pileated Woodpecker are evidence of its sometimes presence. Christian spirituality is a lived experience. What evidence of the transforming work of God in your life are you leaving behind? Does the love of God, His gracious mercy and compassion, linger in the lives you encounter like the sweet scent of the Presence of God?

Lesson 3: Pileated Woodpeckers are powerful birds. Their long, strong beak and mighty neck muscles give it the power to do its work and to sustain its life. What kind of power do you possess? Consider Paul's prayer for the Ephesians:

I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe. God put this power to work in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places [Ephesians 1:15-21].

The nature of this immeasurably great power is that it is the same power with which God raised and enthroned Jesus! Why, then, do we so often remain impotent and afraid?

Lesson 4: Stott credits his father with getting him started as a birder. "During the summer holidays, beginning when I was a boy of only five or six years old, he used to take me out for walks in the countryside, telling me to shut my mouth and open my eyes and ears. It was excellent training in observation."[3] My grandmother and mother were instrumental in my own training in observation. Awakening, paying attention, is the prerequisite of spiritual growth. If we claim that God doesn't seem present, we are spiritual sleepwalkers.

Lesson 5: The Pileated Woodpecker remained for me a mythical bird until I had experienced it myself. I could read about it, I could listen to reports of others who saw it, but I had to experience the thrill of seeing with my own eyes before it became real to me. What is a "nominal Christian"? One who has heard about Jesus and may even have received a measure of the grace that He offers. But, in reality, He remains more myth than relationship. Reading about Him is good; experiencing the thrill of being loved by Him is better. Then, Jesus moves from being myth to being Savior. We are invited to "taste and see that the Lord is good" [Psalm 34:8]. Experience Him.

Present - "Bidden or not bidden, God is Present." At work in my life and in the lives of others.

Dependent upon God to reveal Himself.

Awake and Aware. Watching for God-sightings! "Lord, give me eyes to see."

©2008 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

[1] Roger Tory Peterson, A Field Guide to the Birds (Cambridge, Massachusetts: The Riverside Press, 1964), 142.

[2] John Stott, The Birds Our Teachers: Essays in Orni-Theology (London, England: Angus Hudson Ltd, 1999), 9.

[3] Ibid., 7.

When I was first married, I found it hard to believe that God loved me enough to give me this wonderful man. I called him my "dinosaur egg." He was the kindest man I had ever met -- truly good. I thought perhaps God had set him aside, like a Jurassic Park dinosaur egg, to be hatched as a one-of-a-kind, heretofore extinct, truly good and eligible husband just for me.

Shortly after I married my dino, I began to experience a low-level panic. What if God's plan was to give me this wonderful, dream-come-true man, only to take him away? What if God wanted me to be like Elizabeth Elliot--a widow traveling the country telling a tragic and heroic story of love and sacrifice for God and others?

My husband didn't die. After five years together, our first daughter was born. Amanda joined our world and vastly multiplied it with joy. "Ah," I reasoned, "God is not going to take my Dino David. He is going to take my daughter!" So, I exchanged the fear of losing my husband with the fear of losing my precious daughter.

Amanda lived and grew and became a lovely little girl. We moved from New Jersey to Saskatchewan, Canada, where we awaited the arrival of our second daughter. By now I was busy with the daily-ness of life while the fear of death was subconscious, like an underground stream that exists to nourish the life above.

Fear leeches through the deepest regions of our souls and makes decisions for us.

Meredith came into the world smiling and girgling and fun. She had a full head of hair with personality to match. She walked early and, once she had the balance thing down, she began to run! Faster than a speeding bullet, she climbed onto and underneath, jumped and spun, and ran. By her second birthday, we acknowledged that birthdays are to be celebrated because the child is still alive despite her dare-devil antics.

One wintry Friday afternoon, I bundled my girls into their snowsuits and headed to the grocery store. I was picking up a few things for David and the girls because they were going to spend the weekend at home while I escaped to retreat at St. Michaels -- a Franciscan monastery nearby. The girls and I made it through the store to the checkout where I paid for our purchases. As I got my change, Meredith vanished. Amanda hadn't seen her disappear, neither had the woman who gave me my change.

Meredith had Houdini-ed her way through the automatic doors and stood in the street.

This is where subterranean fear explodes to the surface. In my mind's eye, I watched as the child in the purple snowsuit was struck by a car and spun in the air in a perfect figure eight.

I ran the few steps to the purple snowsuit, still, in reality, standing in the street gleefully celebrating her independence. Child collected, groceries retrieved, Amanda confused and following behind, I got all of us into the car, where I gripped the steering wheel and my fear gripped me. "God, I can't do it," I cried. "I can't keep them safe."

Two hours later, at St. Michaels, alone with my fear in the presence of my God, I wept. I knew the timing was "uncanny." My striving had failed and my greatest fear -- death -- had shown itself in the image of my mind. Haunted, terrorized, my heart was utterly open.

The hours of retreat were graced by God's presence. We dug in, got to work.

To my "I can't do it. I can't keep them safe," God's Spirit replied, "I know you can't, but I can. Will you let me?"

He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms
  and carries them close to his heart;
He gently leads those that have young.
                                    [Isaiah 40:11]

In the retreat center bookstore, I found a picture.

Jesus holding a child-my child, my children. His arms and hands, large and powerful, holds the child next to his heart. His gaze, serene and confident, tends to the child's heart-needs and physical needs. The child, free from fear, relaxed and calm, rests her reddened cheek on his shoulder. 

At first, Meredith was the child in the picture, and I felt peace and relief seeing her with him. A surprise awaited, though, when after a few hours with the words, the scripture and the picture, I myself was the child. His strong arms held me and looked lovingly over my shoulder as I rested in his arms.

I believe that I am not alone, that others fear death too.

...we are afraid. We're doing our best to forget something that terrifies us: we fear the limitation, the mother of all limitations, what William James called the "worm at the core" of human pretensions to happiness. What we want to banish from our awareness is death...this fear is embedded in our unconscious minds. Attempts to keep it buried shape our character and influence our behavior far more than we realize, often becoming the hidden cause of anxieties and neuroses.[1]

I would not say that in those early days I was a bad wife, or a bad mother, but I would say that when I loved my husband through the lens of anticipating his death, I did not love him wholly. When I nurtured and fed and disciplined my daughters through the anxiety of losing them, I was loving them poorly, partially. Loving others motivated by fear always brings a little toxin into the relationship. I become overprotective, controlling, a worrier. I squelch risk, squash adventure, shrink from the unknown or the new. I live small and ask those whom I love to live small with me.

Recently, I spoke with a new dad, the father of a precious baby. He is surprised by his anxieties and is experiencing panic over thoughts of loss that attend, and suck the life out of, his thoughts of joy. He admits to doing crazy things because of fear.

Bad things happen every day. The news is full of them, the church community prays for friends who are touched by them. We all know that "it won't happen to me" is only a façade of denial and wishful thinking and that sometimes superstition more powerfully directs our actions than trust in a loving God.

The young father, who is also a young pastor, says, "God loves me more than I love my daughter. Anxiety will be there--hurts will come. But, I don't want them to. I can't imagine that kind of pain. I don't want to imagine that pain. But, I can't read scripture and walk away saying it's okay for me to be in bondage to this fear." 

One of my dearest friends is one of those for whom the church prayed when the unspeakable happened. Her seven-year old was killed in a tragic accident that has changed many lives in the more than twenty years since that terrible day. From the vantage point of years hence, she has wise counsel for those living in fear.

"Death of a loved one is either danger or opportunity." It is danger when it leads to stuck-ness -- when bitterness, anger and unforgiveness take root in one's soul, there will be no growth, no resolve, love dies and loveliness becomes an ugly hag entwined around the soul. The heart shrivels and the clock sticks and destines its victims to repeat the horrible day over and over again.

Crisis can also be opportunity to see something good come from something bad. My friend has become a Stephen Minister and also one who trains others to be Stephen's care givers. She is very good at it, I know, because she has cared for me. She lives 2 Corinthians 1:  Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. 

"Life happens," she says. "It's not if, it's when. Everyone is a victim at some point." Every crisis is an opportunity to test our assumptions. "Those who know God -- who He is and who He is not, who know that He loves them -- will make it through the pain." She said, "I lost so much of my early motherhood worrying about my health, my kids. And then the worst thing happened. I had no control. I realized I had never had control. My worrying didn't change anything or keep anything from happening. Once I realized that God worked in me, I wanted more. I studied Jesus, dug into his life. And, I survived the worst mess possible."

We live in the tension of the "already/not yet." Death is still the final enemy, the enemy that has been conquered in Christ's death and resurrection and the enemy that will be conquered finally at Christ's return. In the meantime, we draw near to God and He draws near to us. He is trustworthy and invites us to "cast all our anxieties upon Him because He cares for us."

Several years ago I learned that the fifth century Rule of Benedict tells its readers, "Day by day remind yourself that you are going to die." Instead of resisting the inevitable, pretending that death won't come for me or for those I love, we are encouraged to daily remember. I found great freedom in this little saying because as I remember my mortality, I make choices to live more fully.

Death is not the worst thing that can happen to us or to those we love. The worst thing that could happen would be to choose to live embittered rather than to choose to receive God's grace extended to me at all times, in even the darkest times. The worst thing that could happen would be to miss the human love and relationship with my daughters and my husband because I wanted to spare my heart some possible future pain. The worst thing that could happen would be to suffer the pointless anxiety of trying to control my world rather than surrendering to the One who is God and who knows me and loves me more than I love my family.

So, now I no longer pray, "Protect my girls, my husband." Rather, I pray, "Give them what they need to become the women, the man you created them to be." Be it success or failure, joy or sorrow, health or illness, life or death-give them what will draw them, and me, ever nearer to You.

• Loving and good, strong and wise, transcendent and immanent, "gently leading those with young."

• Safe in God's strong arms.  He holds me in the palm of His hand.

• "Give my loved ones and me what we need, whatever we need, to become who You created us to be."

©2008 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

[1] Donald McCullough, The Consolations of Imperfection: Learning to Appreciate Life's Limitations (Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2004), 15.

In my life, I have known a few mean people. People who were angry and wounded and who wounded others. My natural reaction-stay clear, avoid contact, keep a safe distance. I want as little encounter with these people as is possible. I'm afraid of what they might do to me. 

There it is again: fear. 

What would it mean to my life as a Christ-follower if I project upon God my experience of these wounded and wounding people? Among other ramifications, this projection would make unlikely my willingness to encounter God. 

A little word study is essential. Webster assigns two definitions to fear. "An unpleasant often strong emotion caused by anticipation or awareness of danger." Synonyms for this definition of fear include terror, dread, horror, trepidation, apprehension. This fear can be either friend or foe because it can both lead you to the Savior and it can paralyze and isolate you. 

Webster's second definition of fear is "profound reverence and awe." Synonyms for this fear include respect, worship, admire/admiration, to hold in highest regard.

Yes.  And, Yes!  These two definitions - awareness or anticipation of danger and profound reverence and awe - both apply to God. 

Remember Lucy and Mrs. Beaver's encounter of Narnia fame?  In hearing about Aslan, Lucy, shaking a little in her boots, asks, "Is he safe?" Mrs. Beaver replies, "Goodness no. He's not safe. But he's good." Lucy rightly assessed that to come face-to-face with Aslan was to encounter Danger. Mrs. Beaver, on the other hand, knows that encountering Aslan is to come face-to-face with Goodness and Love.

You enter a familiar room where a kindly grandfather is seated in an old and overstuffed chair. The room is lit by the soft warmth of a low burning fire and bears an aroma of peace and safety. He welcomes you and smiles benevolently upon his daughter's daughter, his son's son. You approach, settle yourself at his knee. His giant and strong hand enfolds yours while you rest your head and surrender your heart into his embrace.

This is not a bad image of God[1]; but it is an inadequate one. Fearing God, as in anticipating danger, is wise. He is The Holy Wild,[2] the transcendent Creator of the universe who stretches out his mighty arm to bring justice and righteousness to the earth. The second definition - profound reverence and awe - must go hand-in-hand with the first. "The fear of the Lord (profound reverence and awe) is the beginning of wisdom, and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding" [Proverbs 9:10].

Poor Isaiah, in the midst of a perfectly fine repose, writes of a sudden awakening.

In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the train of his robe filled the temple. Above him were seraphs, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another:

"Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of his glory."

At the sound of their voices the doorposts and thresholds shook and the temple was filled with smoke.

"Woe to me!" I cried. "I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty."

Isaiah knew that he was in trouble. Because of his sin, Isaiah was in grave danger in the presence of the Holy. 

Then one of the seraphs flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, "See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for."

Encountering the Living God should make us afraid! God is holy and righteous and just and I know myself to be a sinner in need of mercy. So, how can I be certain that my sin, which is desperately grave, can be erased by God's forgiveness and the consequence I deserve can be replaced by the grace I do not deserve? The answer: Jesus! In him, because of him, through his work of salvation on the cross, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.

Jesus is for us what Isaiah's burning coal was for him, and more. In Jesus, salvation history has its fulfillment; those who receive Jesus Christ experience the same grace that Isaiah received - guilt is removed, sin atoned for and intimate fellowship with God is available. 

"Let us then approach God's throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need" (Hebrews 4:16). Enter the throne room, and approach the One seated on the throne whose "train fills the temple"? Yes. Approach with confidence, not with fear, because Christ Jesus, our great high priest, has ascended to the Father's right hand saying "she's one of mine," and "he bears my name" while his Spirit intercedes for us before God. And all of this was accomplished because God loves us.

This gift from God, this mercy that does not give me what I deserve but that embraces me and welcomes me - a beloved daughter - is one side of a coin. The two sides: the love of God and the fear of God. "The Christian is constantly confronted by the task of overcoming the motive of fear by that of love. Over and above the motive of fear, faith which is active in love, appears at the nerve-centre of Christian conduct in the NT (Gal. 5:6). The NT presents a tension between fear and love. In a paradoxical way they exist together."[3]

Encountering God is dangerous. It's dangerous because He wants to love you. He wants to give you what you need to become the woman or man that He created you to be. He wants to strip away the false and write Truth on your heart. He wants you to know Him as He is-holy and enthroned as well as present to you as Comforter and Lover of your soul.  

Encountering God is very scary and very sweet. It is the only path to life in abundance.

• Is your awareness of God as "not safe" balanced by your experience of God's love, mercy, and grace?
• Have you projected upon God attributes that come from others?

• Do you know yourself to be loved by God?
• Are you still believing yourself to be condemned, "ruined" like Isaiah because of unclean lips, unholy practices; refusing to receive God's gift of atonement?
• Do you know yourself to be forgiven, rescued, restored, redeemed?

• How is your prayer life?
  • Do you approach the throne with confidence?
  • Do you rarely pray? Or, when you do pray, do you keep a safe distance?
  • How much do you need God? Increased need means increased courage to forsake other gods and approach the Living One.
• Who's in control?
  • Are you willing (or afraid) to give God the driver's seat? Is your life more under your control or under the control of God?
  • Can you pray like Jesus, "Your will, not mine, be done"?
• Do you trust Him?
  • With your wounds and your wounding of others?
  • With your life, your future, your relationships?
  • With your loved one's lives, your spouse's life, your children's lives?

Jesus came to us, lived among us face-to-face, to show us the Father.  Take the risk-tell God that you are willing to experience a face-to-face encounter of Grace. 

Next time... I'm going to tell you about my two-year old daughter, a purple snowsuit, and my deepest, darkest fear.  (But, don't be afraid.  It has a happy ending!)

©2008 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

[1] "On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them...Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them" [John 14:20-21, 23 NRSV]

[2] Mark Buchannan, The Holy Wild: Trusting in the Character of God (Sisters, Oregon: Multnomah, 2003).

[3] The New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology, Vol.1. Colin Brown, ed. (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1975), 624.

This morning I conducted an impromptu survey here on the second floor of the admin building at Denver Seminary. The question, "What are you afraid of?" yielded answers that, I believe, reflect a universal condition - we are all afraid.

Spiders, snakes, the dark and heights were frequent answers. Other answers included scary people, unfamiliar situations, and "traveling in countries where I don't know the language." Being alone was mentioned more than once. One person hesitated, then replied, "I'm afraid of hurting."

I have a VVV lesson on fear titled, "Ghosts, Goblins, Tornados, Terrorists and Other Frightful Things." It's a good lesson because everyone can play this game: to name one's fears is an essential step toward becoming the man or woman that God created you to be.

There are degrees of fear. There are "silly" -- yet, not so silly -- fears (ghosts and goblins-"things that go bump in the night"); there are "out there" fears that happen to other people (tornados and terrorists). Then, there are "in here" fears.

These "in here" fears are awful monsters. Superstition says, "Don't talk about them, because they might come true." I'm going to go ahead and "tempt fate" by naming some of these terrorists:

• Fear of failure, fear of success
• Fear of losing a spouse, a sibling, a child, a parent, a friend
• Cancer, disease
• Fear that I will become a burden
• Death
• Fear of my past; fear of my present; fear of my future
• Conflict
• Being found to be incompetent, imperfect, a fraud
• Rejection, loneliness, abandonment
• Fear that my secret sins will become public
• Loss of security
• Poverty, persecution, powerlessness, helplessness
• The unknown
• Pain -- physical or emotional
• Fear of fear itself

Fear is a motivator. The Three Questions posting for August 5, "Fear, My Friend" suggested that fear can motivate us to declare our need for God; fear can lead us to the Savior. Fear can indeed be a spiritual friend. Even the above list of fears can be friends that lead us to the Father.

However, our deepest, "in here" fears are not friends when they are left unspoken. They increase in power as they are left alone and unchecked. Subconsciously at work, our fears can become the decision-makers of our lives. "When our fears dictate all our actions, we can become paralyzed and incapable of thinking clearly or living faithfully."[1]

When my fears reign, who is my God? He is small, smaller and less powerful than my fear. He is weak, uncaring and unconcerned about the fears that possess me. He has left me alone to battle the life and death struggle of fears that seek to annihilate my ability to stand. Rarely do we admit that this is how we view God. It's that dichotomy between what we know cognitively to be true and the truth that we are enacting in our lives. Fear kills faith!

When my fears reign, who am I? I am isolated. I am buffeted by the wind and waves of a cruel world that seeks to defeat me. I am unloved, unprotected.

When my fears reign, how am I living? I panic-sleepless nights are spent envisioning the worst case scenario. I settle for what is safe and live in frustration at the gulf dividing reality from God-given dreams. I try to ignore my fears by staying so busy that I don't have time to think about them. I project responsibility for my inaction on others rather than facing the fear that is deciding my course. Living in fear means I am not living in faith, hope and love; I don't trust.

When I turned forty, seemingly the moment I turned forty, I found it difficult to focus my eyes to read. Letters blurred and the needed distance between page and eyes increased. I went to the optometrist and, sure enough, it was time for bi-focals. When these new lenses arrived I was amazed by their effect-letters on the page were once again crisp and legible.

When we are looking at our lives through the lens of fear, all is lost. No focus upon Truth is possible. But, when the dissatisfaction of living a fear-controlled life motivates us beyond fear, there is One waiting and ready.

We need to ask ourselves which is greater: our fear or our God?

If the honest answer is "our fear," then we need an action plan that will provide us a necessary lens adjustment.

If our fear is greater than our God, then we don't know the God of scripture very well. Knowing Him is to know that He is greater than anything that could befall us. Knowing Him is to know that He loves us, never, ever leaves or forsakes us, and will companion us, strengthen us, and comfort us in every situation. We don't trust what we don't know. We won't trust God with our fears if our god is false.

The Word is a weapon against fear. Learn it and live it. Philippians 4, familiar and oft cited, is an active response to fear that acknowledges our need for God.

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!

Lord, I praise you even though I am afraid. I remember your faithfulness of the past and rejoice that you are faithful in the present and the future.

Let your gentleness be evident to all.

Quiet the spinning in my heart and my mind.

The Lord is near.

I cling to the truth that you are with me.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

I am anxious, terribly anxious. I can't overcome my fears just by willing myself to do so. I give my fear of ___________ to you. Give me what I need to surrender all to you. I even want to thank you in the midst of this because I know you are with me to comfort me and that nothing and no one can pluck me from your care.

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Lord, I long to receive your peace in this situation. Peace seems impossible to me, it makes no sense at all. In Christ, I cast all my cares on you.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable -- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy -- think about such things.

Lord, keep my mind out of the gutter of fear-filled existence. Remind me, by your Spirit, to think more of you and less of my fears.

Isolation nourishes our fears. We may even believe that no one else fears as we do. This is a nasty strategy of the evil one. Name them. Share them. Let the church be the Church-to encourage one another on to love and good deeds.

I know that these words go against popular wisdom, but the bottomline is that you will not be able to conquer your fears. Small or large, spoken or unspoken, fears will always be a part of your daily life. The choices we make in response to our fears are a significant part of the faith journey that leads us into ever deepening intimacy of relationship with God, in Christ, through the Spirit. To some degree, our fears will remain and will return. However, when we focus our attention upon the One who is True and Right and Pure, when He becomes the lens through which we live and understand life, our fears lose their power and the precious peace of God prevails.

"Fear can keep us up all night long, but faith makes one fine pillow."

• Who is God?
  Greater than all my fears put together! Kind and gracious Companion in fearful times, Author of peace that passes understanding

• Who am I?
  Often afraid

• How am I living?
  "Lord, keep my mind out of the fear gutter! Help me surrender my fears and insecurities to you."

©2008 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

[1] A Guide to Prayer for all who Seek God, Rueben P. Job and Norman Shawchuck, eds (Nashville: Upper Room, 2005), 185.

Frightened, insecure, facing unspoken and unknown challenges. Imagination going wild. Excitement, glitz and glam. Fish out of water. Can't do it on my own!

This was the context of my faith conversion. This tension was an opportunity brimming with eternal significance. A life or death moment. A ‘yes' response to this escalating internal turmoil is a celestial moment when the heaven's rejoice as the grace of God transforms human tension into eternal life.

So, what happened? A dramatic moment of repentance expressed and redemption received? No, nothing so theologically astute. I cut a deal with God. I told the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe that I would give Him my life if He would companion me in my fear. And, He did.

I have always felt a bit embarrassed about this. No Four Spiritual Laws followed by a prayer dethroning self and coronating Christ in my heart. Who do I think I am? Who do I think God is?

I feel better about this save-my-skin, fox-hole bargaining, though, when I read history.

Martin Luther's conversion story is very different from mine, and also, in some significant ways, quite similar. Martin was bright, very bright. He began his study of law at age thirteen and finished both bachelor's and master's degrees in record time. (A bit slower, it took me ten years to finish my M.A.) One day in 1505, young Luther was walking on the road to Erfurt, Germany. As a violent thunderstorm engulfed the sky, a streak of lightening terrified Martin when it struck the ground nearby. "Help me, St. Anne!" Luther screamed. "I will become a monk!"[1]

God used Luther's up-close experience of the awesome power of nature to bring young Martin into monastic life. Monk Martin Luther's study of the Word subsequently led to the Protestant Reformation.

Several centuries later, at some point during World War II, someone said, "There are no atheists in foxholes." A foxhole was used as a place of attack and retreat during battle. It was a hole big enough for the body and the weapon of a soldier. Safe, sort of. Vulnerable, completely. Courageous, remarkable. Afraid, unimaginable. Supposedly, in this context even those who claimed to be atheists uttered "foxhole prayers." It is easy to imagine the content of these prayers. "Save me, O God." "Get me out of this and I'll..."

I have heard it said that a Christian shouldn't pray "foxhole prayers." One who knows what to do should be embarrassed when faced with the consequence of disobedience. That embarrassment says, "Shame on me. I deserve this."

‘Blessed are those who know they need God.' This paraphrase from the Beatitudes' "poor in spirit" [Matthew 5:6] is at the core of growth in Christlikeness. No one knows more keenly his or her need for God than one who is faced with real, life-altering fear. Regardless of whether the fear comes from disobedience, from circumstances, or from a lightening bolt, fear can bring us to the Father. Fear that compels us into the arms of the Sustainer of the Universe and the Lover of our Souls is good. It is the mercy of God inviting us out of ourselves and into life-sustaining relationship. It is the gracious wooing of One who loves us as we are - weak and afraid.

So, here are some thoughts for those who are afraid and for those who walk with others in their fear.

• Don't despise small beginnings or unorthodox pathways. God knows the sincerity of the heart from which the promise has emerged. Cutting a deal with God may not be irreverent; it may be authentic surrender.

• Don't be a fixer or a tension reliever. Shielding or enabling others to withstand the force of fear may also deflect the merciful gaze of the God who loves others even more than you.

• Do companion others in their frightful journey. Remain keenly attuned to the Living Word and to the terror of your friend. You may be a conduit of mercy. Abide in the Vine while you abide with others.

The next time fear grips you, let it lead you to the Savior.

The Three Questions for today-

• Who is God?
  Kind and gracious Companion in fearful times, Author of peace that passes understanding

• Who am I?
  Often afraid

• How am I living?
  "Lord, help me surrender my fears and insecurities to you."

©2008 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

[1] "Christian History & Biography: 131 Christians Everyone Should Know" http://www.christianitytoday.com/history/special/131christians/luther.html, www.ChristianityToday.com; Copyright © 2008 Christianity Today International

They are all here!

• Photographers
• Potters
• Bronze sculptor
• Carpenters-picture frames, lamps, furniture, wooden signs, and more
• Wooden bowl turners
• Jewelry makers
• Hand-hewn canoe maker
• Painters-acrylic, watercolor, mixed media
• Metal sculptor
• Antler carver
• Fishing pole creator
• Lamp shade painter

The photographers were outstanding. The man that had a photograph of a still-winged hummingbird drinking nectar caught my eye. I had just taken a series of hummingbird photos that were a total blur! Another photographer had a stunning photo of three perched eagles that he said he had taken in Alaska in winter -- at that time of year, the eagles are hungry and cluster together.

The jewelers -- one woman had stunning pendants of "picture jasper," a stone that she said no longer exists in nature. The exhibitor that gets the ‘most unique' award was the young couple that framed butterfly wings in sterling silver. This enterprising couple is engaged in a cooperative effort with a butterfly research station in South America. These butterflies live only a few days. When they die, they are sent to Wisconsin to be made into jewelry and sold to North Americans with part of the proceeds going back to the butterfly research station in South America. Another jeweler makes beautiful bobbles out of the glass that rolls onto shore along Lake Superior in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. She said that she walks the shore daily during the winter months, but not during the summer. It takes the violent waves of winter in the U.P. to bring these polished fragments of glass to this creative beachcomber.

One carver makes amazing things out of antlers. He carves and then paints eagle heads in the antler. I asked him to describe where he was when this idea first came to him. He said he was in a gas station in Wyoming when he learned that native Indians have been carving eagles in antlers for hundreds of years. He said he thinks he now does more eagle antler carvings than anyone else.

One furniture maker patiently, carefully strips the bark of birch trees and applies that bark to the surfaces of dressers, tables, headboards. Then she cuts small pieces of willow branch and applies these into shapes of leaves, loons, and more onto the birch bark surface. Hard to describe; magnificent to behold; a painstaking and love-laden artistic endeavor.

There were two thoughts that followed me through Artarama.

First, there really is no end to the creative process. Human beings will never come to the end of the possibilities of what can be done with the natural material around us combined with the God-given ingenuity and skill to make beauty out of what is available. We must expect and anticipate new things. We must guard and value creative endeavor in ourselves and in others.

Second, I was aware of an inclination toward a critical nature. Someone is always awarded "best of show" and the seasoned, sophisticated professionals, as well as the first-time beginners, are there to compete for these awards. When walking up and down the aisles where one potter after another is showing her wares, it is natural to prefer one style above another. But, from the standpoint of the artist, I am aware of how vulnerable one can be. Like the Lake Superior glass jeweler, most of these artists work their craft during the cold Northwoods winters. They immerse themselves in developing creative ideas and in bringing these ideas to life during the weeks and months of winter. Then, summer art shows are the time to try to sell these personal expressions of beauty and creativity.

Excited and nervous to share themselves and their art with the world, by 8:00 a.m. the morning of the show they set up their tent within the eight-by-ten foot space assigned to them. After each one is set up and ready for business, each artist begins to look around at the others gathered. Comparison begins. Comparing ourselves and our abilities to others is the single most deadly rabbit trail that anyone can follow. It kills the creative spirit within us and it devalues the unique creative gift and ability granted us by the Creator of creativity.

One conversation made this deadly comparison game clear at Artarama. A young woman had a small booth of her beaded jewelry. Although people were walking by, she was alone. As I stopped to view her work I acknowledged the beauty of her delicate and simple designs. She thanked me and lamented that because the trend seems to be "big" and "bulky," her work was not getting much attention. "Yes," I said, "but there will always be a place for delicate things like you create." As I left, I thanked her for her contribution to beauty.

• Be careful to not compare yourself to others. It is a trap of the ego and it leads to death in the soul and to the creative instinct within.
• Guard the creative spirit in others. We do violence to this vulnerable region of the soul when criticism devalues what is good in another.
• Nourish the creative spirit within yourself. The Creator of the universe designed each of us with unique gifts and abilities. To neglect these means that we are experiencing less than God designed us to be.

• Who is God?
  Creator, and author of human creativity

• Who am I?
  Created creative!

• How am I living?
  Lord, let me be all that you created me to be

Talk to me about your own creative process. I'd love to hear from you.

©2008 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

On a calm, clear day the reflected image is stunningly mirrored.

On a windy day, the water's surface is rough and the reflection, distorted. Yet, even when the ominous sky is steely gray and the water is rough with waves, there remains a hint of shadow that the eye and the imagination can discern to be reflection.

It is not a natural inclination to look first for the reflection. The eye usually perceives the cloud, the trees -- the true thing -- first. Then, if awake and aware, the mirrored image eventually becomes a part of the self-conscious. But, sometimes, the reflection itself leads to the true thing. Color or movement in the water may catch one's attention drawing the mind and the eye to attend to the true thing.

When I muse over these reflections, words of scripture inevitably come to mind. Are the reflections seen in the mirror of the lake metaphors for God's word that it might make sense in my heart?

• He is the image of the invisible God, ... For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell. [Col 1: 15, 19]
• Whoever has seen me, has seen the Father. [John 14:9]

Jesus, the perfect reflection of the Father. Jesus is the clear-day, calm waters reflection of the Father. No turbulent, troubled mirror there. How does my understanding of Jesus as the perfect reflection of the Father square with my beliefs about God? It's often easier to identify with Jesus -- to like him, trust him, to believe that he likes me! -- than with God the Father.

• For out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks. [Mt 12:34]
• The things that come out of the mouth come from the heart, and these defile you. For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander. These are what defile you. [Mt 15:18-19]
• ... whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside are full of the bones of the dead. ... In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness. [Mt 23:27-28]

Yikes -- stopped short by Jesus' blunt rebuke! He sees through the Pharisees' façade of righteousness. The attempted deception fails and what is in the heart reflects from the inside out. Words tell much about the condition of the heart. What we work to hide is never really hidden; it is reflected in our attitudes and interactions with others.

Centering Prayer, a contemplative practice, focuses upon centering one's heart and mind on Christ. An image used here likens the soul to a muddy lake with stirred and murky waters. One is to imagine the murky waters settling to the bottom of the lake. As the waters clear so does the pray-er experience increased clarity of mind and heart and the deepest needs of the soul can be clearly identified.

It takes time for murky, stirred water to clear. And, it takes time for the soul to settle down. Martha was cooking for a crowd. She needed some help in the kitchen, someone to share the decision-making-chicken or beef? Jesus tells her that she is "worried and upset about many things" [Lk 10:41].

I identify with Martha. Sometimes the to-do list expands out of control. We get overwhelmed and lose perspective. This is one reason for taking a vacation, a retreat, an afternoon away. Studying the reflections on the lake is an important spiritual discipline. Taking time away, what I see reflected in the water settles the stirred and troubled waters, which are anxious about many things, of my own soul.

• For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. [1 Cor 13:12-13]

Reflections are wonderful. A phenomenon of creation for which I am deeply grateful. They indicate aliveness, the inhale and exhale of existence. They are a result of the presence of the "true thing." And, they draw us to acknowledge and interact with the "true thing."

But, they are only reflections. There will come a day when we will see "face to face!" What is known now of the One Who Is True is like the reflection in the water -- even on the clearest, calmest day the water always distorts what it reflects. It is always turned around backwards and it always bears resemblance only. Exact detail cannot be reflected in the mirror of the water. Enter faith, hope and love. Because of these, through these, abiding in these, I wait for the coming of the One Who Is True. No longer reflected in creation or revealed in his word, then I will see him "face to face." That will be a good day!

• Who is God?
  Known in part, reflected in all of life

• Who am I?
  One who knows in part, but is even now fully known

• How am I living?
  Studying hard to see clearly

I invite you to respond with your own musings, questions and connections about reflections and the One Who Is True.

©2008 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

"You aren't reading." My husband was right. I haven't been reading-bound-paper-and-ink-type reading. Haven't read my Bible, devotional works, non-fiction, novels, not even a newspaper.

I'm on vacation in Wisconsin's North Woods. We come every year to this place: a little cottage in the woods on the edge of a crystal lake where Creation sings and trees "clap their hands." Heaven on earth!

For the 27 years that I have been coming here, I have experienced this same phenomenon. I can't read for the first several days that I'm here. Picking up a book and focusing my attention on its pages is impossible. My most meaningful devotional practices lose their draw on my soul. During these days, I used to be confused by this, thinking "My prayer life is the pits and I'm an emotional dwarf."

However, several years ago I began to understand that something good, something holy, is taking place. It is not that I cannot read or that I have lost ground toward emotional maturity; rather, I'm being emotionally and spiritually refreshed by reading a different kind of text. I am drinking deeply of the glorious text of creation and I am drawn into the arms of the Creator.

For the first week or so I can scarcely close my eyes; don't even want to blink. My senses are acutely awake in this place. So much to see, hear, smell, taste and touch.

"The heavens declare the glory of God."
" Heaven and earth are filled with His glory."

I see God in nature. Can't get enough! The macro: the woods, the lake, the sky. The micro: individual tiny white daisy, dragonfly, fish, bird, a leaf turning silver then green in the breeze. The sounds: chattering chickadee, screeching eagle, tapping woodpecker.

I can see and hear the wind in this place. I watch the breeze start to trouble the surface of the water across the bay and anticipate the moment the coolness will touch my face.

I'm crazy about the birds here. When we first arrive, one of the first things to do is to set up the bird feeders. I have thistle seed for the finches and chickadees, black sunflower seeds for the nuthatches, suet for the Downy, Hairy and Red-Headed Woodpeckers, and, of course, sugar water for the hummingbirds. Then I have to wait for these to find this new source of food. The first hummingbird makes me giddy.

There's an earthy smell here that I love. Pine trees, decaying leaves. The rich scent of the cycle of life.

The birds in the water are especially captivating. Last year the loons nested and hatched one black puff-ball chick. No successful nest for this summer, but all still comes to a standstill when the loons come to fish in the bay. This year the mergansers have a full brood of nine young!

I can get a little intoxicated by it all. I want to show my family, and anyone who will join me, the majesty and wonder. My daughter, Meredith, recently remarked that sometimes it's most entertaining to watch mom watch the loons.

This craziness is not new to me. I am in good company. The psalmist experienced this strange phenomenon before me.

Sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth...
Let the heavens rejoice, let the earth be glad;
Let the sea resound, and all that is in it.
Let the fields be jubilant and everything in them;
Let all the trees of the forest sing for joy.
Let all creation rejoice before the Lord, for he comes. [Psalm 96: 1, 11-13]

Today the liturgy of the church we attend here included the hymn "This Is My Father's World." The text, written by Malthie D. Babcock (1858-1901), is wonderful to me.

This is my Father's world, and to my list'ning ears all nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres. This is my Father's world; I rest me in the thought of rocks and trees, of skies and seas; his hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father's world; the birds their carols raise; the morning light, the lily white, declare their maker's praise. This is my Father's world; he shines in all that's fair. In the rustling grass I hear him pass; he speaks to me ev'rywhere.

This is my Father's world; oh, let me not forget that, though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet. This is my Father's world; why should my heart be sad? The Lord is king, let the heavens ring; God reigns, let the earth be glad!

The profound impact for me of all this creation glory is an attitude and perspective adjustment. God is God. I am not God. He possesses the wisdom and the sovereign power to sustain all that is. And, yes, evil and injustice "seem oft so strong," but "God is the ruler yet." I can rest. I can trust.

As I write this, it is Sunday evening-just between dusk and dark. I'm sitting on the screen porch facing the lake. Between myself and the water are a few trees - maple, pine, oak - and one solitary deer. She is sensitive to my presence; her ears perk and turn toward my every movement and sound. Her tawny body is becoming increasingly silhouetted against the graying color of the water. Still, I'm looking, listening, watching. As dark approaches, I'll soon allow myself to cease looking, although the sounds of the night increase at this time.

I am brimming with thankfulness. For this place, for the privilege and gift of being present to all that is present here. For the legacy of my husband's family that valued this and struggled to provide a place where family could gather to enjoy each other and the Father's world. For the refreshment that comes by being in the presence of trees that clap, birds that sing, eagles that soar, water that glistens, and skies that amaze with ever-changing glory.

• Who is God?
  Creator and Sustainer of all that is

• Who am I?
  A lover of the Father's world; one in need of perspective adjustment and emotional refreshment

• How am I living?
  Help me, Lord, to be awake and attending to your living Word around and within me

(c) 2008 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart

Exactly! Questions, the ability to ask them of ourselves and the willingness to hear and respond to them from others, are essentials to growth in Christ. The psalmist asked a rhetorical question saying, "Who can discern their own errors?" [Ps 19:12] He knew we all need a little help to know when we start to follow a rabbit trail that leads us away from the path to Christlikeness. The Holy Spirit is our guide. He, who never leaves us on our faith journey, sees when we take our eyes off of Jesus to consider an interesting alternative path. He pricks our conscience with an internal tap on the shoulder and asks, "Do you really want to go there?" "Is this the right choice?" "Nancy??!!"

The Spirit can be ignored. And, as we get really good at neglecting His internal tap on the shoulder, we can also actually believe that He isn't tapping any longer; He isn't guiding me! Left to ourselves, or so we think, we can become pretty depressed and even cynical about this whole "spiritual journey" stuff.

Christ's Spirit is speaking and guiding each of us--a wooing, inviting Voice calling us to the "abundant life" that Jesus died to give us. Sadly, many of us do not hear the kind Voice of the Spirit. Rather, we are living a spiritually impoverished existence hearing instead "do more," "fly right or else," "you are too broken to be healed," "earn the right to belong," and/or "your sins are so egregious, so terrible, that you need to be punished before you can be loved." If left unchecked, these "guiding" voices are able to perpetually deter us from the path and rob us of vital and vibrant relationship with the Father, Son, and Spirit.

The Spirit also speaks to us through other human beings. We need each other. We are "created for community." If we are willing to listen and receive their guidance, our mentors and spiritual companions and friends can also serve us by tapping us on the shoulder and asking us good questions that will set us back on the path to God through Christ.

So, what questions does the Spirit ask us, should we ask ourselves, and should we be asking of others?

I believe there are three foundational, spiritually guiding questions. I have been using them for years in mentoring and spiritual direction relationships, and they have been guiding questions for me as I have written and taught others in spiritual formation. They are simple, yet complex. They are safe, yet dangerous. They are diagnostic, yet demanding. They are:

• Who is God?

• Who am I?

• How am I living?

Asked properly, there are actually two questions within each question.

• Who do I believe God to be? And, Who is the God of Scripture, the self-revealed God in Jesus Christ?

• Who do I believe myself to be? And, Who has God created me to be; Who am I IN Christ?

• How am I living in response to who I believe God to be and myself to be? Is it congruent with who God reveals Himself to be and with who I am in and through Christ?

In case I've lost you, here are some examples of possible honest answers to The Three QuestionsTM.

Who is God?

Santa Claus, a giant vending machine in the sky

Who am I?

A good girl/boy, rightfully deserving of good things

How am I living?

"Equation living" meets hard times. I'm disappointed in God, disappointed with my life. My response may be to work harder to win God's approval or to reject the entire God-thing.

Who is God?

Angry, punitive, a giant Fly-Swatter in the sky waiting to squash me like a bug

Who am I?

Fearful, always looking over my shoulder

How am I living?

I live my life expecting punishment for my mistakes. I have little true joy or peace.

Who is God?

Loving and Kind

Who am I?

Unlovable because of my past, undeserving of kindness or compassion

How am I living?

I know cognitively of God's Love but am not one who dwells within God's Love.

Who is God?

Far away and uninvolved in my life

Who am I?

Alone to be and to choose as I will

How am I living?

"Let's eat, drink and be merry." I live a "what ever" life. I'm here on Sunday, but after church ... I live it up, I kick my dog, I ignore my kids, ...

Who is God?

Sovereign, Creator and Sustainer of the Universe

Who am I?

A control freak

How am I living?

I assume that God has given me carte blanche over my life, my choices and my reactions to others. I can ignore God for a time, eventually engaging in a war of the wills -- God's will versus my will.

Who is God?

Merciful. "As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us." Ps 103:12

Who am I?

Forgiven, washed whiter than snow even though I am "the worst of sinners.

How am I living?

I no longer live under the shame of my sin. And, the mercy I have received is the mercy I extend.

Who is God?

A servant of all. "The Son of man came to serve..."

Who am I?

Selfish, self-centered, my life revolves around "me"

How am I living?

"He must increase, I must decrease." Lord, make me a servant, humble and meek, help me to lift up those who are weak. And may the prayer of my heart always be ...

Who is God?

Suffering Servant who left us an example that we might follow in His steps.

Who am I?

Afraid of pain, suffering and death

How am I living?

Do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that is taking place among you... 1Peter 4:12 And do not be afraid either. As the Father was present to the Son, so will the Father, Son and Spirit be present to me to strengthen, comfort and give peace that passes understanding.

Simple, yet complex. And, dangerous! Within these questions, God is shining a flashlight into the incongruencies between our beliefs and our actions. This is always uncomfortable. Painful. Vulnerable. And, although God knows what all our incongruencies are and knows what we need to become congruent in heart and mind, He is also gentle with us, patient to give us only what we can receive at any one time.

But, He also requires us to change. If we are to grow in Christ likeness, if we are to become who He created us to be, if we are to fulfill His Kingdom purposes for us during our short span of days, we must become humble before Him, surrender our will to His will, and obey His loving claim upon our lives.

This is important work that needs to be accomplished within the body of Christ. The context for this work is always a context of love. God's love for us means He won't leave us alone, but continues to woo and invite us to Himself through the Spirit. Likewise, when we ask these Three Questions of one another, our motivation needs to be one of love. If one, motivated by revenge or selfishness ("selfish ambition or vain conceit" [see Phil 2:1-11]), were to shine the diagnostic light of the Three Questions onto another's soul, great injury would result.

And so, the Light needs to first and foremost shine onto my own soul, my errant beliefs, and my selfish actions.

"Lord, shine your search light onto my own heart. Test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." [Ps 139:23-24]

This blog is going to be a place where I ask The Three Questions of my own life and of the world around me. I hope that it will provide you with food for thought and perhaps even encourage you to consider where God may be asking you to grow.

I will write about a wide range of topics, things that interest me, my hobbies and obsessions. You'll know me as an avid gardener and bird watcher, as an amateur photographer and a Doodler. I'll be reading God's revelation of Himself in Scripture and in creation and drawing "so what's?" from these observations. You'll know me, too, as a wife and mother, as a corporate chaplain, as a musician, as a spiritual director and a teacher of spiritual formation.

I won't be providing you with a lot of hard and fast answers. I hope to provide you, though, with a friendly tap on the shoulder and a question or two to consider. I'll be eager to hear from you, too. And, you may have a question to ask of me. But please, ask in love. Always, in Love!

©2008 Vine, Vision & Voice
Nancy R. Buschart