The Connection

A comedian once said, "I really like the saying, 'Before you judge someone, walk a mile in their shoes.'  Well, not only do I get to judge them, but I've got their shoes and a mile head start."




I wonder what thoughts were coursing through God's mind as the plan for the incarnation came into effect.  Throughout the centuries, time after time God's people continued the endless cycle of idolatry, sin, punishment, repentance and forgiveness, God continued to give second and third and fiftieth chances, but it never seemed to entirely take hold.  The connection between deity and human was so difficult because although humans could see the power of God in the heavens, on the mountains and even through the seas, it felt as if they were always saying, 'Well, God, it's easy for you because you can do anything.  You don't really know what it's like to suffer.  You don't know what it's like to feel doubt or pain or abandonment.  You don't really know what it's like because you haven't walked in our shoes.'


Which was the last straw that broke the camel's back?  Was it the grumblings of the slaves in the desert?  Was it the Israelites rejection of both judges and God to have a king like the other nations?  Was it those same kings who drew their people into revolting patterns of idolatry and sinfulness, doubting the living God for ones made of stone, metal and wood?


My guess is that it was not a last straw.  It was the first straw, or the first piece of wood, perhaps, from the Garden of Eden.  When the Deceiver placed the idea into the center of the mind of humanity, that God was unnecessary, or worse yet, greedy, the entire course of history needed to be emended. 


In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.  He was with God in the beginning.

I would presume the greatest connection that we have is with the word that comes from our mouth.  What issues forth from our lips, even Jesus proclaims, is what comes from our hearts, and what comes from our hearts is as inseparable from us as the DNA from our cells.  Of course you can tell almost everything about a person from their words and what issues forth from God's mouth, the Word - is creation, life and light.  These three things are the central connection of the Trinity when God spoke His Word that took on flesh.  Literally, God's breath began to walk another mile in our shoes.  It was God who established that connection; It was God who made the first move.  It was God who responded to the cry of his people, and in that hearing, God established a connection that could not be broken.

When we speak to others, especially in the name of Christ, we remember that in our baptism, we have been drowned in the Word and it is no longer we who live, but the Word which lives in us.  How we speak can have immense implications on our connection to others. 

Ponder God's connection in Trinity and how it pierces your own idea of connection.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Sometimes I like to let my mind flashback to the things of the past.  I'm sure all of us have objects that bring back memories, or memories that objectify a time which seems to be turning more golden each and every year we breathe.  Just recently, in various daydreams, I've thought about Matchbox cars, little green army men, that electronic football game where the players vibrate all over the board and of course, Tinker Toys.

Then, just yesterday at church as I was watching the Power Point screens pass in front of my eyes, I started giggling because it reminded me of Bible Camp in the '80's and there was always that one person standing, or should I say kneeling, at the front frantically trying to keep up with the songs by changing the plastic see-through sheets for the overhead projector.  Remember when we had to do that for ministry or teaching in school?  Desperately trying to figure out which way the words were supposed to go, flipping them upside down or back and forth until you got them right?  What a way to communicate, right?

So, now that we live in a digital age where a phone - or should I say a computer, which fits into your pocket, not only can take the place of a wall mounted phone, a calculator, a walk-man (I'm dating myself again, but I'm revelling in it like a dog in the mud) and flashlight - but can communicate in so many different ways than I never could have dreamed when I was growing up: shouldn't communication be so much easier?  Shouldn't communication just be second nature now that we can see everything?

One of the things that I truly enjoy about Jesus' understanding of his ministry was his ability to stick pins in the consciousness and consciences of the people who were nearby.  When he was trying to communicate with people, he tended to use the words "The one who has ears, let them hear."  He didn't say, "The one who has eyes, watch this!"  Although Jesus did do very visible miracles which communicated the love of God in all sorts of ways, it was his words that changed people's lives. 

Hope is conceived not in the eyes but through the ears.  Faith gives birth to life through this hope in Jesus and unless we can hear again the message of Christ, of repentance, forgiveness and life eternal, we are sentenced to a life of sight without seeing, and lukewarm faith without belief.

In this new age of communication, I decided that I would take a lap around the Gospel of John and see how both he and Jesus communicated and I think I've found the focal point, or the hub, of everything that they were trying to do:

They were making connections.

When they made connections, new life was found.  Jesus connected people to God ('For God so loved the world...)  Jesus connected people to people (It is the Father living in me who is doing his work.  Believe me when I say that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; or at least believe on the evidence of the works themselves (sight!).  Very truly I tell you, whoever believes in me will do the works that I have been doing, and they will do even greater things that these, because I am going to the Father!)  Jesus connected people on the inside to people on the outside (- to the Samaritan woman - "Whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst!)

So, for the next few weeks, read with me, come with new ears, find the connection that Christ brings us to, not just a Spiritual connection, but a living, breathing human connection with those around us.  Find the questions to ask others; find the questions to ask God and ourselves.  Find your ears.

With each segment of John, I'll be asking these questions:

What is the connection which is being made?
How is it weak or strong?
What is God's response in connection with the event?
What does the Word have to say about it?
How can I communicate this connection to others?

There may be other things that come up, but this is a good template to start, I think.  If you have any reflections, send them on to me.

Between the Pincers

I went fishing with Santa Klaus on Wednesday.

During my first week at Good Shepherd, Verne made his way up to me and stuck out his hand.  I shook it and enjoyed the eerie visage that greeted me.  Verne peered at me behind bifocaled spectacles that made his eyes look bigger than they really were, and as he spoke, the hairs of his moustache blew out in little puffs, like cotton balls being tossed in a light, spring breeze, and his beard hung raggedly white on the chest of his shirt.

"Do you like to fish?" he said, his voice gravelly but mirthful. 

I stared up at him, to the top of his head which looked like the snow encrusted peak, El Capitan, in Yosemite National Park.  Verne is about six feet four inches tall and I would have guessed from his appearance that he would more likely fit in by handing out presents with elves than holding a fishing rod. 

"Do I like to fish?" I repeated as if this was the silliest question in the world.  "Don't all disciples like to fish?"  Weird Christian jokes fail sometimes and I think Verne was already wanting to rescind the question.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."  He was still smiling, which was a good sign.  "How about we go out fishing on Wednesday and I'll show you how to catch blueys, which is the local lingo for blue crabs." 



I rolled out of bed at five a.m. after a restless night's sleep.  Because I was excited to get out on the ocean for the first time, I woke up before my alarm, dressed in my fishing clothes, grabbed my hat, a few morsels for lunch and headed out the door.  Surprisingly, there were quite a few people on the road at 5:30 a.m., but I made it to Verne's house in fifteen minutes where he was already outside his house waiting for me.  As I approached and his form filled the headlights, I noticed he was looking at his watch.  He looked like St. Nicholas stamping his foot for the last of the toys to be loaded into the sleigh.

I got into his pickup truck and we started off down the road.  After a little small talk, he told me about some of his fishing adventures and what made him tick.

"So, you see," he started, his voice echoing above the classical music station in the background, which surprised me also (I expected Waylon Jennings or Johnny Cash), "I don't wear my teeth when I go fishing anymore.  One time I went, I got sea sick, and I burleyed the water (which means 'chumming' where I come from) and my choppers ended up with some shark, I'm sure."  In other words, he puked his teeth out.  I bet that was an amazing visual experience for the other fishermen in the boat?

"Wait, so you get sea sick?"

"Yup," he responded proudly, "But I take the tablets and I wear a little wrist thing."  I thought this was one of those jokes Australians play on me sometimes, that I would believe a little wrist band would miraculously cure seasickness, but he swore by it.  "I don't know how it does it, but this little band does something to steady me."  I was doubtful - I think most doctors would call them 'placebos.'  I wish I would have had one of those on the trip out onto the reef.

"And, here's the other funny thing - I'm allergic to shellfish.  Can't eat them.  Make me sick.  Allergies and things."  I looked over at him to see if he was serious, but his eyes were staring straight ahead into the road.  I had to formulate my thoughts:

I'm going fishing with a shellfish intolerant, toothless, seasick fisherman.  This is so AWESOME!

"What do you do with the blue crabs when you catch them?"  I asked.

"I give them away.  They're worth about $35 per kilogram.  There are always people who are willing to take them and eat them.  Giving them away makes me very happy."

Fantastic.

The sun burned the sky a crimson blood red on the way out to the crabbing grounds.  As the boat skimmed the surface, I watched out over the back and the heavens looked like a lava lamp bubbling and roiling and changing colors.  It was spectacular.  After half an hour of motoring across the relatively calm surface of the salt water, Verne pulled up over a place that his GPS tracking brought him too.  Telling me that he'd always caught blue crabs there, we then proceeded to take three crab nets each, stuff a dead fish into a little mesh pouch, clip it down and chuck it overboard.  As the sun was still coming up and over the Adelaide hills in the east, Verne sat on the edge of the starboard side(right side - it sounds like I'm a real sea salt, but I had to look it up) silhouetted.  Imagine Santa casting his toys over the edge of the sleigh into chimneys far and wide.  He explained to me that the crabs, as they were scavengers, would crawl over the net and attempt to pick apart the dead fish in the mesh at the bottom.  After waiting a certain amount of time, we were supposed to pull up sharply on the rope connecting the crab net to the boat and then haul it up as fast as possible.  Verne said that you can usually tell by the weight if, or how many, crabs were in the net on the way up.  Invariably, he was right.

After a few minutes, he pulled his net up and sure enough, the brilliant blue crustacean with eight inch legs and two inch claws was in the middle of the net.  I think Verne was trying to impress me, but he grabbed the crab by the pincers and threw it into the ubiquitous white bucket that once held some kind of industrial putty but now held seafood. 

"I wouldn't recommend you doing that on your first go," he said.  I wasn't sure if it was wisdom or a dare. 

"We'll see what happens," I responded intent on showing Jolly Old St. Verne that I wasn't just some Midwestern Yankee who couldn't handle his fishing.

Within minutes I was hauling up a net.  Nothing.  Then two more.  Nothing.  Meanwhile, Father Christmas was pulling in blue Yuletide gifts up and over the side peeking over his glasses to see if I was watching.

"Maybe that side of the boat was better?"  Certainly it wasn't me, the inexperienced crabberman.  Verne shrugged.

Finally, though, I pulled up one of the nets and sure enough, there was a nice big, blue crab hanging on for dear life as he was pulled from his aquatic home.  And, there was another one on the bottom.  "Hey!  I've got two!"  Unfortunately, I only got one in the boat which I anticlimactically dumped into the bucket rather than risking my fingers between the pincers.

"The most I've ever got in one net was five," Verne said as he chucked two more into the bucket. 

Why is fishing such a competitive sport?  Why did I feel as if I have to avenge my honor with Father Christmas?  Just enduring questions that may never be answered.

We caught our forty crabs, one squid a few whiting and trumpet fish which Santa called 'shitties' (and one small shark which tangled all of the lines.  Santa wasn't happy about that one.) and then headed back in to shore where on the way, a dolphin was practicing for the show, leaping high into the air.  Spectacular fifteen feet into the air, the jumps took my breath away.  Just seeing that was worth the trip out.

It was a good day, and as we journeyed back in off the great briny sea, I recognized a true sense of contentment in Verne's eyes.  He was happy to be sharing his boat, but especially his time, with someone new.  It was a great gift that he gave me.

And that was what I was to find out about Verne.  He is one of the kindest, most giving people I've met in a while.  Even after we finished our crabbing experience, he brought me back to his house, gave me a tour of his garden from which he produced some beautiful zucchinis and then a shoot of basil, volunteered to clean the squid and whiting that we caught and then smiled all the way as I drove off. 

He truly is Santa Klaus. 

Or should I say, Santa Claws.

Ouch.  Sorry, I couldn't help that one.