An exercise worth trying, a gift worth giving

From Madeleine L’Engle’s foreword to Christopher Arnold’s book - “Seeking Peace”

A decade or so ago one evening during Lent, at Manhattan’s Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine, I listened to the Reverend Canon Edward West talk about the peace we seek, and use the rather unexpected metaphor of a subway. Most of us in the audience that night rode the subway, to the Cathedral, to and from work. He pointed out to us that if we looked at the people riding in the same car with us, most of them would look as though nobody loved them. And that, alas, was largely true.  Then he told us that if we would concentrate inconspicuously on one person, affirming silently that this person was a beloved child of God, and, no matter what the circumstances, could lie in God’s peace, we might see a difference. Peace is not always something you “do;” it is a gift you can give.

The next time I rode the subway I glanced at a woman in the corner, hunched over, hands clenched, an expression of resigned endurance on her face. So, without looking at her, I began to try to send God’s loving peace to her. I didn’t move. I didn’t stare at her. I simply followed Canon West’s suggestion, and to my wonder she began to relax. Her hands unclenched; her body relaxed; the lines of anxiety left her face. It was a moment for me of great gratitude, and a peace that spread out and filled me too. It is something I try to remember as I ride a subway or bus, or walk down the crowded streets, or stand in slow-moving lines at the supermarket. If God’s peace is in our hearts, we carry it with us, and it can be given to those around us, not by our own will or virtue, but by the Holy Spirit working through us. We cannot give what we do not have, but if the spirit blows through the dark clouds, and enters our hearts, we can be used as vehicles of peace, and our own peace will be thereby deepened. The more peace we give away, the more we have.

The Cost of Running From God

Down, Down, Down

Jonah 1:3 reads (in part) “so he paid his fare and went on board.”

I know that Jonah did not think that this purchase of a ferry ticket in any way paid the cost of his attempted escape from the will of God, but when I read it this phrase started me thinking about the cost of running from God.  The more I think of it the more I realize that what we see as the total cost is really only a down-payment.  

For Esau, it was the cost of a mess of pottage.  For Jonah, it was the price of a ferry ticket.  What is it for you?

Some random thoughts from this first chapter of Jonah

1.     For Jonah, it was all down hill after he paid the fare.

• He went down to Joppa


• Then down into the boat

1:4 - There was a great wind and a mighty storm
1:11 - Then it grew more and more tempestuous
1:13 - the sea grew more and more stormy against them

• Until finally, it was down into the belly of the whale.

He got all of this for the price of admission to a ferry.  

Are you wracked on the storms of your life?  Is it because you are running from what God has asked you to do?  

2.     Interestingly, while Jonah was running from God, he was able to salve his conscience by keeping a proper theology.

- In Chapter 1:9 he says, “I am a Hebrew and I worship the LORD, the God of heaven, who made the sea and the land.”
- In Chapter 2:9 he prays, “Salvation is from the Lord”
- In Chapter 4:2 he continues, “I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity.”

All of this paints a great picture of God - the Creator, the Redeemer, and the compassionate, forgiving One.  This is an outline that any evangelical preacher would recognize as fodder for a great message. And yet, here was Jonah, running from God … to do who knows what.

3.     Jonah was able to fall asleep.  Again, I know this was from physical exhaustion, but it is also a picture of one who has become spiritually non-responsive.  God says “Nineveh”, but I think Tarshish is just as good.  God says “east”, but I’ll choose west.  God says “Preach” but I choose to sleep.  

The “sleep” is a picture of a good conscience, but this illustration shows us that the conscience - by itself - cannot be trusted.  In I Timothy 4:2, Paul talks about teachers “whose consciences have been seared as with a hot iron.”  

The cost of running from God
     The price of a ticket is just a down payment
     From there we go down, down and still down
     Until finally our conscience can no longer be trusted

Is it any wonder we cannot hear his voice?