A Plate Parable

 

This evening I was washing the dinner dishes. Nothing unusual, I know. In fact, it was feeling rather ordinary.

But then, the something unexpected and rather revolutionary happened.

I don't even remember how it came to pass, or what I did, but somehow I put a freshly washed plate on the dish drainer rack the wrong direction. And then the aha! moment came. I had actually put it in the correct direction! Just think! How many times...perhaps thousands?...I have been putting those plates in the wrong way, simply because that's the way I put them in. Now, however, they will dry more effectively and will be easier to put away because they are placed in the way they are meant too be.

I wonder how many aspects of our lives have the same problem. We just do things because, well, that's the way we do it.

I don't invite our neighbors over for dinner, because well, I never do.

I decide things my way because, well, that's how I do it.

I put limits on our limitless, awesome God because, well, I do. 

But we can turn away from the "that's just the way I do it" and have an aha! moment too. It simply means shedding the old in exchange for the new, and allowing our King to be our guide.

Light us aflame, Abba, show us Your way.

Because, well, its the only way to life.

  

 Whether you turn to the right or to the left,

your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying,

“This is the way; walk in it.”
Isaiah 30:21

A Revelation

I'm kind of a criminal.

At least when it comes to parking garages.

Please don't tell anyone, okay?

I park on the top floor of the parking garage at Western Michigan University so that I don't have to pay for a parking pass or buy a bunch of quarters that I would much rather be spending on gumballs or shiny stickers or  bouncy balls on my way out the door at Meijer.

There, I said it.

Not only is it cost efficient, but I also get the opportunity to run down three flights of stairs and stretch my legs between hours of playing the piano. While I was making that little jaunt this morning, I saw two birds. (Side Note: A few weeks ago I discovered one of their kin lying dead in the stairwell, and now I know why.)

The birds thought that they were stuck. They kept throwing themselves against the glass panes of parking garage wall, stopping every few seconds to gaze longingly at the world that they couldn't reach. No matter how hard they hit the window, nothing changed. Then, just as I was about to leave them in their captive misery, they stopped trying. They both sat on their windowsills and looked out, their countenance completely changed. Suddenly, they were both content to watch everything that was going on around them and not participate in it anymore. It seemed like they had just given up.

As I gave up my newfound hobby of birdwatching and headed to the voice lesson I was playing for, I thought about how much those birds reminded me of my old self and the way I used to treat spiritual growth.

"Wow, there's a whole world out there to explore!" I would say with excitement. But then I'd hit a wall, assume there was nowhere else to go, and, with a shrug of my shoulders, declare that I was "done for now." After all, I knew more that those "Sundays only" Christians already. And, for awhile, that was enough.

But all it takes is one revelation- one person telling us that there's a whole world beyond that glass wall, and that no amount of throwing ourselves against it will get us out there. In order to discover it, we'll need to discover the only One who can lead us out of the spiritual cage we're in and into the adventure of exploring His glorious Kingdom.

"Circle Zion, take her measure, count her fortress peaks, gaze long at her sloping bulwark, climb her citadel heights— Then you can tell the next generation detail by detail the story of God, our God forever, who guides us till the end of time." Psalm 48:12-14    

"It is not well for a man to pray cream, and live skim milk."

 -Henry Ward Beecher

Careless Abandon

Every Tuesday and Thursday I play the piano for a choir of very...lively...eighth graders. It's always fun to watch how different their personalities are. Some are quiet and deep, others exactly the opposite, and among everyone else there's a range that's everything in-between.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, while all of the other kids run to the music rack to put their folders away, one girl stays behind. Her name is Elisha, and she inspires me.

"Hi, guys!" she smiles at the choir director and I. She then proceeds to inquire as to how the former choir director is doing (he had an accident last fall and is still recovering) and ask who is going to have the honor of singing the solo in "Mighty to Save" at the spring concert. She asks these questions every single time I'm there.

She always brings something to share with us, like a little craft project she made in elementary school, an origami frog she made in art class, or her diary. She usually tells me that I'm a wonderful accompanist as she strolls away. She never says good-bye. And, last Thursday as she was leaving, she walked away saying, "You're an awesome accompanist. I love you! I love you guys!"

Elisha has autism, but there was a part of me that almost wanted to be jealous of her as she walked away on Thursday. She is so unafraid of being bold and honest, and completely unafraid of loving us and letting us know that she does. Where we all have natural human tendencies to back off, be understated and hide the things we feel, those inhibitions don't exist in her world. I almost think that she's better off for it.

When Jesus calls us to be "childlike," it seems to me that this is exactly what he's talking about. How many of us are actually allowing ourselves to fall into His arms and rest there, trusting in His every word and not letting ourselves be plagued by fears of what the rest of the world thinks about what He tells us to do? I'm certainly not worthy of being put into that category. But I'd like to be someday.

And a little girl in eighth grade who many would see as handicapped is already miles ahead of me.