Year of Invitation

It’s Christmas time and the tree is trimmed, the stockings are hung and the smooth sounds of my favorite holiday jazz album are filtering through the house. The small nativity set that my mother gave me sits in a place of honor in the living area. I keep it where the boys can reach it and often catch my youngest son playing with baby Jesus or rearranging it into scenes that come alive in his mind. Recently, I noticed that he rearranged it so that no one could see the baby Jesus figurine because of the wise men crowding around him. I reached out to change it and then stopped and wondered, “Did the wise men get out of the way when they were worshipping so that others could see the baby Jesus, too?”

Do I?  Do you?

Mary did. Even in her exhausted and vulnerable state, Mary understood that the child she bore was not for her- He was for the world. So it was that when the world showed up on her doorstep before she could even find proper attire for the child-god, she did not hide him but rather invited the world inside her sanctuary to worship. Can we do any different? Let us be inviters in the year to come. When the world darkens the doorsteps of our homes searching for something small that they cannot name, let us show them Jesus. When the world finds themselves in our neighborhoods,  when they come smelling like unwashed shepherds and weary worn from their trials and long journeys of their own making then let us, like Mary, throw the barn doors open and let the light spill into the streets. Let us invite them in to our safe places to worship with us.  

“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,


you may now dismiss your servant in peace.

For my eyes have seen your salvation,

which you have prepared in the sight of all nations:

a light for revelation to the Gentiles,


and the glory of your people Israel.”

-Simeon’s Song, Luke 2:29-32

Message in a Bottle

Sometimes, I get the feeling that I am a message in a bottle. I have no control over where I go, when I am discovered, and who opens me, but I know that God is in control and that I definitely have a message burning in my heart. I wish I could read it, I really do.

Tonight I went with some friends to give away bags of groceries. It is the end of the month and the economy these days makes it difficult for my own family near the end of the month. There are times that I cancel with people simply to make certain that I have enough gas to get through the rest of the month. The people we were seeing weren’t sure what they were going to eat –what they were going to feed their children – the rest of the month.

I wasn’t sure what to expect, to be honest. Would people, like so many I encountered, be reluctant to accept what we were offering – no strings attached? I’m thinking ‘out loud’ right now but I think that one of the most difficult things to overcome in ministry is the cynicism that shouts, “Nothing in life is free.” It’s really no wonder, too, when even we asked if we could pray for or with them. About half of the people I spoke with accepted both the groceries and the prayer but it was mostly because they were being polite. I could hear in the back of my head what they were thinking, “I knew there was a catch!”

I met a woman tonight. She said she didn’t want prayer but everything in my heart cried to pray for her. When the guys with me walked away, I whispered that I would be praying for her anyway- all week long. She started crying and I asked her name. As she sobbed her story in between apologies and my assurances, I ached. I ached because there was nothing I could do. What was a bag of groceries against an injury that stole her job? Against the untimely death of her father? Against the knowledge that, in less than a month, she and her three children would be homeless? Against the knowledge that she wasn’t, in fact, a citizen (though she grew up believing otherwise until she applied for Medicaid to fix her injured shoulder)? Nothing, that’s what. It is nothing.

I prayed. I prayed that God would heal her shoulder, restore the favor of her employer, breathe peace on her, and some joy to get her through.

“I want to die,” she said, “but it’s a sin.”

“It’s a sin I’ve struggled with, though, I understand.”

“I won’t do it. It’s a sin.”

“Hang on to that.”

“It’s all I’ve got.”

I prayed that God would help her through this dark night and into the dawn of a new morning. I prayed that God would love on her and begin to show her He has a purpose just for her, if she wanted it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t even know you.”

“I believe that God brings us the people we need. You didn’t know me yesterday. Now you do.”

“I’m sorry.”

I realized, on the drive home tonight, that I don’t like this door to door flesh meet flesh ministry. It makes me want to whither up inside when I don’t have something more to give these children that God places before me. God heals. God does miraculous things. I know this. I want to live there. I want to be the one who says, “God loves you and wants you whole. Let’s pray for Him to heal you.” And He does. I need the power of God or I need to do something else. Anything in between is too painful.

My prayer is simply this: God, go with me or don’t send me.

I don’t know exactly what this has to do with the feeling that I am a message in a bottle, but I know it is related. God’s told me to stop asking what this vision inside me looks like, what it sounds like, what it reads as but He keeps instilling this hunger in me. Sometimes I think this process will kill me before I understand what is happening. And yet, and yet.... something is happening.

bad day

Yesterday was a good day. The fog lifted and the clouds parted and, for a few moments, I was able to see the goal - my fondest hope, that elusive city on a hill - and move forward with a smile on my face.

Today the mists have returned, as dense and miserable as they ever were, and I am utterly lost with the whispers of my heart and the loving nature of my God as my only guides  through this dejection and anger. The dejection is actually easier to handle than the anger. I can speak with it and keep putting one foot in front of the other as the path presents itself. The anger is trickier. I can't escape it and suspect that I may need its services to survive the coming days but, for now,  it is a siren luring me into actions and words I know I will regret later. It is so compelling, though, and it feels good. 

Today is a bad day.

-Zonoma