Ash Wednesday

Fleeting Bits of Melting Beauty

Seven of the eight of my office windows have 24 panes of glass separated by (metal of some kind) strips; the remaining has just 18 panes because of a permanently installed air conditioner. 

Of these 168 panes of glass, each was covered in frost when I arrived this morning. The patterns of the frost were different in each pane, yet each was beautiful and together they were as stunning as any stained glass. 

Slowly, as the sun rises higher in the sky, those panes in the east windows are melting; the sound of the crinkling ice is ever so slight, but noticeable in the otherwise silent building. 

So it is with God's voice in the midst of these frightful days. Barely noticeably the Realm of God crinkles into our midst like a fleeting bit of melting beauty. 

The Light of hope, shalom, grace, and extravagant love changes us too. 

The ice may be the result of the bitter cold. But the light still shines upon each of us and warms our souls.

Please, Show me the Way to the Light, Peace, and Hope

This morning, I climbed on the elliptical cross trainer at the gym and pressed “genius play” on my ancient iPod Nano.  I set the resistance on the machine and my feet began the familiar motions.  As I check my speed and pace my breathing, Queen’s 1980 hit starting rocking in my ears:

Are you ready? Hey are you ready for this?
Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?
....And another one bites the dust.  Another one bites the dust.

What kind of sardonic humor infers that a song about a violent death by guns is motivation for working out?  Perhaps the rhythm; perhaps the strong bass beating.  I try to shrug it off by thinking about the calories that are biting the dust as I sweat on this ghastly machine.  But on the silent televisions in front of me, reports of a gun violence and the deaths of young people fill the screens. 

Another one bites the dust.  Another one bites the dust.

The screens now show President Obama crying about children lost to violence.  The faces of children and teenagers who have been murdered by guns flash by; the faces of police officers and others who have died by the gun.  My mind wanders to the long list of names of the sons and daughters who have died by violence in our own city. When I look up, a report of yet another execution by Isis and then several by an Arab nation is on the television.  I’m reminded of those whose lives have ended on our own death rows. When will it ever end?

Another one bites the dust.  Another one bites the dust.

From dust we have come and to dust we shall return.  Each of us is made of the dust of the stars and each breathes the air once in the lungs of the ancients.  Each of us is a child of God who is loved no matter what, precious in God’s sight.

 

And yet our world seemingly has no regard for the sanctity of God’s children’s breath.

I glance at the cross trainer and see that I’ve gone a mile in under 9 minutes; my heart rate is well above the target.  I’m gripping the handles firmly as I slow my pace.  As if by cue, my ancient technology has cross faded into another song. Styx is playing:

And I feel this empty place inside so afraid that I’ve lost my faith

Show me the way, show me the way,

Take me tonight to the river and wash my illusions away

Please show me the way.

I close my eyes and breath.  I remember hearing this for the first time as our country prepared to enter Iraq in Dessert Shield in 1991.  The lyrics are a father’s response to his son’s struggle to accept his father’s Christian faith when we live in a world so filled with hatred; the song is a prayer for direction in the midst of hopelessness.   The six eight time of the ballad melody complicates my keeping tempo with my feet on the machine.  But I peddle on.

And as I slowly drift to sleep, for a moment dreams are sacred
I close my eyes and know there's peace in a world so filled with hatred
Then I wake up each morning and turn on the news to find we've so far to go
And I keep on hoping for a sign, so afraid I just won't know

The television screens have moved on to the weather, traffic, and commercials for a competing gym. The elliptical screen says I’ve gone nearly 2 miles in the 18 minutes.  And yet I’m still in exactly the same spot in which I began.  I’ve only been spinning the wheels and not moving forward.  The sweat on my brow is not evidence of progress as much as it is energy burned fuming over that which should not be, things I claim to be helpless to change. 

But in a moment of clarity, or perhaps oxygen deprivation, I realize that today is the first day of Epiphany, the season of light. No longer Christmastide, the days are lengthening, and the celebration of the Sages navigation to the Christ child by the light of a star has begun.  

There is light; there is hope; there is justice within our future.  Styx is still singing:

And if I see your light, should I believe
Tell me how will I know

Show me the way, show me the way
Give me the strength and the courage
To believe that I'll get there someday
And please show me the way

The strength and courage to get there someday will not come from spinning our wheels.  God depends upon us to turn the wheels of change and bring in the realm of God’s peace, justice, and mercy through extravagant love poured out for all God’s children.  God is showing us the way.  God is speaking to us through the songs on the radio, the voices of children in the streets, and in the quiet of the funeral parlor.  God is calling us to action.

Church, it’s time to turn the dust of our inactivity into the breath of God’s Realm. 

Let’s make this new year be one of Faith in Action.  Let’s take off our treadmills and start the journey toward God’s Shalom.