God's Mind

Moravian Daily Texts

Watchword for the coming week:

How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them!  

Psalm 139: 17

I read a summary of a Stanford Research Institute study that says the human brain is capable of thinking between 90,000 and 115,000 thoughts on any given day, but that since none of us could possibly deal with so much information without blowing a gasket, the human brain is also capable of repressing 30 or 40 or 50, 000 of those thoughts so that we might carry on. On average, then, most people hold 65,000 or so active ideas in their minds in any one 24 hour period. (At least I think that’s what the summary meant. I’m not sure that my brain is capable of comprehending neuroscientific research.)

Of course, the quality of each of those thoughts varies greatly. I’ll bet at least 64,000 of my everyday thoughts are mundane: Where did I put my coffee cup? Should I defrost chicken or hamburger? Where did I see gas was selling for the lowest price? Do empty cereal boxes go in the trashcan or the recycling bin?

A few are worthy. Remember to mail Mom’s birthday card. Remember to pray for Godknowswho about Godknowswhat.

Some are petty: I can’t believe she’s wearing leggings. And those shoes.

Some are sentimental: Awww, I remember when the boys gave me this necklace.

Some are creative: What would happen if I turn that thing upside down and put marbles in it?

Some are worrisome: It’s getting late and the roads are slippery. . .

Some are fun: Go Packers! Beat the Giants!

Once in a while I might have an important thought, and maybe once in a great while I might have a profound thought. It would be fantastic if I could have more change-the-world ideas than perfunctory notions about how to run the microwave or apply hairstyling products. I don’t suppose I’ll ever be able to tip that balance.

But enough about my thoughts. The passage at hand is about God’s thoughts—how numerous they are, and how weighty. But if I am already challenged when it comes to grasping that a standard issue human being like myself might possibly compute 115,000 thoughts per day, then I am as far away from comprehending the sum and substance of God’s thoughts as my tiny little brain is removed from the most recently discovered distant galaxy. (It’s calculated to be 13.2 billion years in the past. Wrap your mind around that!)

What does God think about? How could I be so presumptuous as to even speculate, except for perhaps this one slim concept: Whatever incomprehensible number of thoughts are playing out in the mind of God right now, one of those thoughts is of me. One of those thoughts is of you.

Now that's profound.

Atmospheric Conditions

Moravian Daily Texts

Watchword for the upcoming week:

 Ascribe to the Lord the glory of his name; worship the Lord in holy splendor.

 Psalm 29:2  NRSV

It’s considered mundane to mention the weather. Chit chat.  Small talk.  And yet, the weather affects us regularly, sometimes shaping our days and often sculpting our attitudes. Case in point: This first week of January in East Central Ohio began grey as tweed and damp as a sponge mop. As the thermometer plummeted, the constant precipitation degraded from brittle mist to soaking downpour to injurious ice bullets. Snow eventually coated the roads enough to be dangerous, but not enough to be lovely, and the whole time, the sun disappeared as though it were in the Witness Protection Program. Under the influence of the meteorological milieu, the post-holiday celebratory goodwill of family, friends and coworkers quickly shriveled.

And then yesterday dawned like a gift. Dense layers of clouds drifted off to annoy someone else, and sunlight let down from heaven. Sour faces gave way to smiles, slumped shoulders transformed into upright posture. Goodwill returned. Praising God wholeheartedly became much easier to do on Friday than it had been on Thursday.

For the shepherd/soldier/poet who spent most days and nights outside in the weather, it’s not surprising that the mood of the Psalms shifts from elation to depression and back again with great frequency. Psalm 29 seems to be a weather-inspired piece that speaks to the fearsome majesty of a thunderstorm—the kind of storm that rattles a person to the core with atmospheric cymbal crashes and pyrotechnics. Such a magnificent display stirs up awe and inspiration, and the Psalmist seems genuinely compelled toward a moment of true worship.

Holy splendor.

“The weather” can turn out to be an ordinary topic of conversation when there’s nothing else of much note to discuss. Or it can be an uplifting spiritual experience—an encounter with Creation. There’s nothing mundane about that.

On the Precipice of a New Year

Moravian Daily Text

Watchword for the coming week: 

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent his son, born of a woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children. Galatians 4: 4, 5

In the fullness of time. . .

when the fruit is ripe and heavy on the branch;

when the sprinter is in the blocks;

when the crust is golden and the dough pulls away from the edges of the pan;

when the contractions are close enough to be measured by stopwatch…

In the fullness of time, there is no freeze frame setting.

In the fullness of time, God does what God does.

In the fullness of time. . .

when the crystal ball is perched atop a flagpole perched atop a skyscraper;

when the clock hands sweep toward the conclusion of one cycle and onto the next;

when the crowd counts backward, in unison chant, from 10. . .

In the fullness of time, what is inevitable will proceed.

In the fullness of time, old moments dissolve into new moments, old years resolve into new ones.

On the precipice of 2012, I wonder what God might be ready to do. I wonder what God might be ready to have me do. I wonder if the time might, indeed, be full. I wonder if I will be attentive enough to recognize what God is up to, or perceptive enough to align my own resolutions in the direction God might be going.

In the fullness of time. . . here we go.

Through the Shark Tank

Moses stretched out his hand over the sea.

The Lord drove the sea back by a strong east wind. Exodus 14:21

By faith the people passed through the Red Sea as if it were dry land. Hebrews 11:29

“Shark Realm” is a stunning exhibit at Adventure Aquarium in Camden, New Jersey. Essentially, it consists of a clear, acrylic tunnel running through the middle of an enormous shark tank. Visitors walking through the tunnel have a completely unobstructed view of the water and the 850 creatures swimming around and above them. The illusion of being deep beneath the sea yet without getting wet (or getting eaten) is mesmerizing. Fantastical.

But the spell was broken for me when, during my turn, a pair of visitors in line behind me began to question the structural integrity of the beautifully engineered display.

“What kind of PSI do you think they’ve got going on here,” one fellow asked another.

“I don’t know, but there’s a heck of a lot of water in here. The sign says 550,000 gallons. One ding in the ol’ plexiglass and whoosh. . . . we’re gonners.”

The collective mood among the people in the tunnel shifted swiftly from wonderment to apprehension as individuals first contemplated the invisible force holding back the waters, and then further imagined its letting loose. Distress and fear registered on their faces. Wanting to leave the tunnel as quickly as possible, some visitors turned back toward the entrance they had funneled through just moments earlier, only to be reminded that this was a one-way walkway. The newest crush of entrants now clogged the opening, and the only way out of the exhibit was to press forward 40 feet to the exit. There could be no turning back.

Of course, there was no disaster that day at Adventure Aquarium. Only the whiff of a supposition of a rumor. Upon exiting the Shark Tunnel we were all deftly routed through the Shark Gift Shop. But even though the threat of danger was imagined, the experience has helped me to engage with the biblical story of the Israelites passing through the Red Sea as Moses, with God’s power backing him up, restrains the ocean. In my aquarium encounter, just like in the Exodus account, circumstances required that all participants move forward. No matter how terrifying it was to advance, reversing or reverting or retreating were impossibilities.

To move ahead when the future is uncertain—well, isn’t that just one of the scariest challenges human beings face? The message I take from today’s Daily Texts is that, frightened or not, we must step forward on our life journeys, not backward. The sense of being protected in the midst of the peril, and the feeling of relief that comes after we have lunged and plunged into the future—these are the rewards for putting our trust in God.

What's Next?

The Lord said to Abram, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.” Genesis 21:1

God granted the inheritance to Abraham through the promise.

Galatians 3:18

It was this time a year ago that I renewed my relationship with Dave, the moving van operator. The morning he arrived in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania to load our boxed possessions onto the big orange Allied truck, his face seemed familiar to me. As we compared notes and reconstructed history, Dave and I came to the realization that he had been our driver 5 years previously when we transferred our household from Madison, Wisconsin to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Now he would be in charge of relocating our stuff to Gnadenhutten, Ohio. And when he pulled up to the 3-story brick American Foursquare-style home in Gnadenhutten, Ohio, Dave recalled having been in the house years earlier and negotiating furniture around the tight bends in the staircase for yet another Moravian pastoral family.

He would never say this aloud because he’s a very polite man, but as he packs and unpacks lamps and mirrors and bicycles and pianos, I’m pretty sure Dave questions the efficiency of the Moravian Church and the sanity of its clergy. (But hey, we do keep him steadily employed.)

Listening for and responding to God’s call is hardly ever an efficient prospect. In fact, it’s usually pretty complicated and messy. Look at Abraham and Sarah. I don’t suppose they found nomadic desert travel to an unfamiliar territory to be especially easy. I don’t imagine that they considered bearing and raising a child, an heir, in their advanced years to be a model of efficiency either. And regarding sanity—well, that characteristic is often scrutinized when someone claims to listen for and hear God’s voice.

I’ve been listening and hearing that voice since I was a teenager, and I think I’ve been faithful in responding. That doesn’t mean I always understand why God wants me to be in the places God puts me, or how I’m supposed to accomplish what it is God wants me to do. With all humility, I confess that I have no clear sense of what my purpose is in this land God has been showing me for 12 months now. Some days I find this discouraging. Other days, I find it to be energizing as I try to discern what’s coming next. In all of it, I find encouragement in the way God blessed Abraham and Sarah for their faithfulness, for their willingness to follow God even as they stepped out into the vast unknown.

There’s no big orange truck in my immediate future. I don’t expect to be seeing Dave again anytime soon. But I do expect that God has more to show me in this place. Maybe today. Maybe tomorrow.

Murderous Thoughts on Mother's Day?

You shall not murder. Exodus 20:13

This is the message you have heard from the beginning, that we should love one another.

All who hate a brother or sister are murderers.

I John 3: 11 and 15

Being that it’s Mother’s Day, I guess I was expecting a softer start to the morning than to be confronted by the words, “You shall not murder.” So much for flowery, lacey, pinkish sentiments.

You shall not murder. Yes, as a parent, I have sometimes been frustrated enough by one kid’s antics or the other’s that I have muttered to myself, “I swear I’ll kill him.”

I try to reserve that phrase for the truly serious offenses—not for minor infractions like tracking mud across a freshly washed kitchen floor or swigging orange juice directly from the carton or even losing a brand new L.L. Bean winter coat out on the sledding hill. For these sorts of judgment lapses I tend to resort to extremely heavy sighing and head shaking.

No, I only invoke death threats in scenarios that cause me extreme worry and heartbreak. Like the time my pre-schooler wandered away from me in a 2-story department store that opened onto an enormous shopping mall. He had decided to play Hide-And-Go-Seek, but had forgotten to inform me that the game was on. He ducked inside a circular clothing rack laden with skirts, and the only thing that eventually gave away his location was a muted giggle as I searched frantically, calling out his name. In his glee, little did he know the thoughts that ran through my mind—thoughts of him being alone and frightened, thoughts of him climbing on the railing of the second floor concourse high above the first floor fountain, thoughts of him being lured away by a fellow with Tootsie Pops and evil intentions. Of course, when I did discover the child’s hiding place, I was so crazy with relief that I cried and embraced him. I didn’t even come close to killing him.

Neither did I kill either of my children on any of the subsequent occasions when I may have gotten calls from the school principal, or heard from other parents in the neighborhood about some questionable behavior, or on those very late nights when one didn’t arrive home by the agreed upon time and didn’t have the decency to text me. I may have breathed fire at the time, but I still loved them through the fury.

While working out the rules that would be good for humanity, maybe God Our Heavenly Parent was watching what people were up to and, out of frustration and heartbreak, muttered, “I swear I’ll kill them.” Maybe God Our Heavenly Parent deals daily with this attitude. Who knows?! Maybe this particular commandment first came into being as God was working out God’s own parenting skills.

Love your kids today. Love your parents today. Love your God today. And for goodness’ sake, try not to kill anyone.

Restoration

When you return to the Lord your God, then the Lord your God will restore you from captivity, and have compassion on you. Deuteronomy 30:2-3

Jesus said to the healed woman, “Daughter, your faith has made you well;

go in peace, and be healed of your disease.” Mark 5:34

I have an antique trestle-style library table. No, let me rephrase that. I have the pieces of an antique trestle-style table. Some are splintered, all are dusty, and they are stacked in the corner of my garage.

Once belonging to my Uncle Fritz and Aunt Margie, the skinny table used to decorate the back wall of their vintage Midwest farmhouse living room. Throughout my entire childhood and youth, the table was most often topped with a doily, a lamp, and a filled candy dish. At holiday time, it boosted their 4 foot tall artificial Christmas tree to a grand height and held their tissue-paper wrapped gifts.

Especially in its current state, the table is of no particular worth. Made of inexpensive pine varnished into a sticky blackness, its only value is sentimental. And yet, I’ve carried that small woodpile with me on several cross country moves always with the hope and expectation that someday—when I have time—I will restore the heap into a serviceable item of furniture.

Restoration, of course, means to return something to its earlier condition. But it also means to take it a step further—to refurbish something to a better condition.

Both Old and New Testament verses in today’s Daily Text speak of restoration. In one example we hear about someone being restored to the community following a time of exile and isolation. In the other, we learn of someone’s health and wholeness being restored. In both cases, these acts of restoration are life-affirming and positive. The people effected end up being better than ever because they have come to know God’s compassion.

Struggles in this life are the gritty sandpaper, the grinder that scrapes against the surface and scratches off the old finish. Without the grit, the stain wouldn’t adhere, and without the stain, the beauty of the grain would not be revealed—even better than the first time.

Someday I’ll get to work on that table. In the meantime, I invite God to keep working on me.