God is around every corner

God is around every corner... Smiling. I forget that sometimes. Well, if truth be told I forget most of the time. Unless, I tie a string to my finger, with a neon bible flashing “read me” dangling from it. Or send myself an e-vite, an invitation to enter into the wonder of this God-with-me life, I have been so helplessly captured by. Then and only then I may remember. But I most likely will pass on God, click “some other time”, choosing a Christian life a little less dangerous and a little more in my own strength. Honestly, many times, I am just too busy doing stuff for him to care to be with him. In that habit, I show my great capacity for self-sufficiency – a tendency to live as if the good I do is of my own virtue. It is a mental trap that gets ants to think their giants and believers to think their strong. So quickly I forget but he is quick to remind. He reminds me in others, in his word, in the open beauty of life itself. He is around every corner and he is always smiling.

Yesterday, I turned the corner and there he was in the words of a child-prodigy painting hope on the canvas of this old soldier’s heart. I rested my heart and found shade under the almighty. Today he was around the corner from page 29 and i met him on page 30. It was, what I like to call a "suddenly"; when God swoops into your reality and things change. A "suddenly" like in Acts 2:1: "Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting." unlike Shakespeare’s Macbeth, this was Sound and furry, signifying something. It was My God coming in a ‘suddenly”, happily revealing to this old soldier, he ant through with him yet. For me no greater miracle, no deeper truth exists than He never stops working even when there’s a problem with the clay.

I was reading Brennan Manning's A glimpse of Jesus. This is what I read when the wind brushed my face. This is what I heard when God stepped down, and suddenly became my reality! In between the word, He was there molding changing making all things new and in between all things I rested in the water on my face and the fire in my soul. Manning writes of an experience that God let me enter into vicariously through Manning:

During an extended silent retreat in Tampa, Florida, some years ago, I was reading the Scriptures in my room at the Franciscan Retreat Center. The subtle dominion of self-hatred had returned, and I was back on the rollercoaster ride of perfectionist depression, neurotic guilt, and emotional instability. The despotic power of my idealized self and the nagging litany of 'I should have, I could have, I ought to have, Why didn't I? Why did I?' had persuaded me that my life and ministry were vitiated by vanity, insensitivity, and self-centeredness.

At that very moment Jesus set me free.

Praying over the passage of the washing of the feet (John 13:1-17), I suddenly transported in faith into the Upper Room, where I took Judas's place among the Twelve. The Servant, who had tied a towel around his waist, poured water from a pitcher into a copper basin and reached out to wash my feet (the dress and duty those of a slave). Involuntarily I pulled my foot back. I couldn't look at him. I had betrayed the vision, been unfaithful to my dream (an thus unfaithful to his plan for my life).

Sensing my dismay, he placed his hand on my knee and said, 'Brennan, do you know what these years together have meant to me? You were being held even when you didn't believe I was holding you. I love you, my friend.'

Tears rolled down my cheeks. 'But Lord, my sins, my repeated failures, my weaknesses….

'I understand. Brennan, I expected more failure from you than you expected from yourself.' He smiled . 'And you always came back. Nothing pleases me as much as when you trust me, when you allow that my compassion is bigger than your sinfulness.'

'But Jesus what about my irritating character defects - the boasting, the inflating of the truth, the pretense of being an intellectual, the impatience with people, and all the times I drank to excess?'

'What you are saying is true. But your love for me has never wavered: your heart has remained pure. What's more, even in the darkness and confusion, you've always done something that overshadowed all the rest. You were kind to sinners.'

I cried - so loudly that the retreatant in the adjacent room knocked on the door to ask if I was all right.

'Now I'll go,' Jesus said. 'I've just washed your feet. Do the same for others. Serve my people humbly and lovingly. You will find happiness if you do. Peace, my friend.'"

When the moment had finally passed and God sweetly lifted, with red eyes and a full heart I reached for what I always reach for, a pen and I wrote down these words…

Purifying fire
Even the fallen find rest, even the lonely know joy, even Jesus understands that when you run hard after Him, your own seeking can become the idol: A distraction pulling you away from looking to him. This Idolatry is loving Jesus in your own strength. It is worship of your service. Trying more than is asked of you; trying so very hard, trying to hard. While all the while enjoying little indulgences, little unclean freedoms, you give yourself as gifts for seeking so hard. Hiding them under the floorboards of your life justifying their presence by the existent of your devotion, convincing yourself they are well hidden even from God.

Oh GOD I am sorry! When strong grace is at the door I turn and walk away. Self-sufficient seeking to grow faster than the Spirit is willing to produce. So I strive in my strength, scrupulous analyzing to get it right, zealous activity before others, the seeing and doing from leanness of soul produces nothing more than dust and ash. The remnants of sins already purified.

So I rest in your work and trust in your working. It is here, in your rest, your secret gifts unfold to me. In this moment, I find beauty, truth and goodness greeting me like dear friends after a long absence. I find my heart’s home, my soul’s rest and you call me friend.

Cleansing water
So many times I forget my life is Jesus washing my feet. In all I do unclean, impure, imperfect, my Jesus is washing my feet. My problems, my pain, my rejections, are not mine, my Jesus is washing my feet. In my character deficiencies, my wayward heart, my unclean lips, my Jesus is washing my feet. My endurance, my compassion, my desire for justice and truth that so often violently arrests me, is not mine; my Jesus is washing my feet. In my unbelief, in my pride to prove myself to be more than my biology, in my anger when reading becomes public humiliation and words become the enemy; my Jesus is washing my feet. My determined love, my relentless seeking, my passionate expression, is not my own: my Jesus is washing my feet.

My hope, my life, my all, is Jesus washing my feet!
In victory or the valley it will always be Jesus washing my feet.

- In retropect -

I am just one in many that desire to abide in God’s empowering and redeeming grace. To all that read, know this is My God the one who takes a drug addicted jock and makes him a poet that lives to press in and touch the inner light of glory, returning with words that change lives. A God that take a people who can’t read or write and choosing them to bear the weight of his word, to be near to his whisper, effortlessly hearing, speaking, and bring the kingdom of God in a “Suddenly”.

There is a strength in dependence, a boldness in humility and a power in surrender, it is Jesus washing your feet.



Brennan Manning, A glimpse of Jesus: the stranger of self-hatred (Sanfrancisco: HaperSanFrancisco, 2003), 30-31