Knit together in love (Col. 2)

read Col. 2. When I was in college, my roommates used to come to my ice hockey matches and sing original cheers like, “Rolina, Rolina, you’re doin’ so fine-ah”– while they were knitting.

Talk about love.

The rink was freezing. They sat on concrete. And the fact that they were cheering while engaged in a domestic activity made the whole thing completely endearing.

Today’s passage exhorts us to be knit together in love. Whenever I read it, I think of those kind women, knitting in unison. They were creating something warm for other people while freezing themselves. Isn’t that an image of sacrificial love that we should aspire to?

Actually I think that’s only the beginning of an understanding of what it means to be knit together in love, not the end. When we think of Christ’s calling as being a rule that means we suffer while others delight, I think we’ve missed the real point: when we give love, we get more than we give. We get to live in a new kingdom.

Let’s look, for instance, at forgiveness. Why? Because it happens to be something I’m struggling with. So what did I finally do? I sat down and read as many verses as I could on forgiveness. And yes, many of them say that if we want God to forgive us, we have to forgive others (see, e.g. Matt. 6:14-15). That’s clear. It’s even fair. We can wrap the justice-oriented sides of our brains around that.

But the Bible says far more than that. It says that God “delights” in showing mercy (Micah 7:18-19). Delight? When we read the word delight, the white-knuckled fingers with which we clutch our resentments start to loosen. Delighting sounds, well, delightful. We delight in delightful things. The idea of delighting in mercy attracts us.

The apostle Paul also says that we should repent of a sin–such as refusing to forgive–so our sins may be wiped out and “times of refreshing” may come from the Lord (Acts 3:19). I didn’t realize how badly I needed times of refreshing until I read that passage.One of the many things I love about the Bible is that it articulates our needs–and tells us how to satisfy them. I also love that it’s a plural promise. We don’t just get one measly “time” of refreshing, like a ten minute massage in an airport. We get “times” of refreshing. Reading about the blessings that follow forgiveness makes something soften in our hearts. We experience the change from the inside that God promises to us if we spend time in His presence.

As if delight, times of refreshment and the promise of being forgiven were not enough: there’s more. Paul says that the Lord asks us to be “kind and compassionate” to each other, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave us (Eph 4.32). Again, the words kindness and compassion attract us. They’re an invitation to allow ourselves to be transferred into the kingdom of light. Suddenly, we remember that the kingdom Christ offers us is a breathtaking place, a place flooded with light and peace, and we think: why did we ever leave?

Armed with these verses on forgiveness I went for a walk around the reservoir, praying for someone who says cruel things about me and has actively tried to hurt me. I began to see them with compassion. I can’t say I’m all the way there. But God gave me an image of what they’re really going through. For me, it was the beginning of what I think Paul is calling us to in Colossians 2: to be knit together in love.

It’s a warm and wonderful place to be. To move toward forgiveness means that we move further into God’s kingdom of love. There, we can be refreshed–over and over. We can delight in offering to others the kindness and compassion Christ gives us. We can give up the illusion that we are without sin, and receive instead the covering of the cross. We can live in the place where Christ nailed our sins to the cross, so He sees His perfection in place of our imperfection. There, we can truly say we’re doing fine.

xo Caroline

the ancient overgrown pathway to healing: Romans 14

june to nov. 09 317

We humans need healing in so many ways, for so many things.  So what if someone were to tell you that you could be healed of all your hurts?  What if they said they could help you connect with other people?  What if they said they could help you get in touch with yourself?  What if they said: “come with me.  Fly with me to a thick overgrown jungle.  Hack your way through the underbrush.  And in an ancient ruined city, I will show you a way to total healing”?  Would we book our flights?

We might.  When we humans really want something, we open our wallets.  We endure bumpy bus rides.  We squeeze ourselves into airplanes.   We perch on ripped train seats.  We do that for movies.  We do it for vacations.  We do it for anything that seems worth it.  As one of my favorite books on dating says of finding a man who will treat you properly: “men will fly across the world just to surf a wave.  You want to be that wave.”

So what if instead of searching for a wave (or for a muscled bare chested man riding a wave), our ears perked up when we heard a voice that told us to stand at the crossroads and look, to ask for the ancient paths.  We lean closer.  We like the idea of a journey.  Something in our heart rises up at the thought of finding ancient paths.  We fill our water bottles, pop our malaria pills, tuck our machetes into our belts and walk along the ancient overgrown paths.  We hear a voice telling us when to go right and when to go left.  We listen because we want to get there.

When we reach the ancient ruined city, however, we are annoyed.  We are told that before we can meet the king, we first must perform a task.  We have to wash in the river of life because we’re dirty from our journey.  It’s not the washing that annoys us.  It’s that we have to wash in the SAME river as everyone else.  We look around.  We can see that our fellow travelers are mud-stained and filthy.  But US?  No, we’re good enough to meet the king of the city just as we are.  Why do we need to wash first?  Plus, what if we get a disease from all those other unwashed souls?

And then we look at the river.  It’s warm.  It’s refreshing.  It’s crystal clear and blue as sapphires, and we think, “hmmmm.  Maybe it’s not sooo bad.”  We strip off our dirty clothes and jump in.  And there, we discover we actually enjoy swimming in the same delightfully warm and refreshing river as everyone else.

That’s it.  That’s the secret.  That’s the solution to all our problems.  The answer is to wash ourselves in Jesus’ love.  It’s to accept the river of life that flows from the throne of God.  It’s to be cleansed of all our mistakes by the cross.  Why should we resist grace?  The problem is that grace says that if we want to leap into the river of life in this ancient city, we’re not allowed to judge anyone else.  We stop short, glance at our watches, and wonder if we have time to catch the next flight out.

Why?  Because if someone tells us to do something hard, we roll up our sleeves and give it all we have.  We want to prove ourselves.  But if God tells us to do something so easy anyone can do it, we balk.  See 2 Kings 5 (“Sir, if the prophet had told you to do something very difficult, wouldn’t you have done it? So you should certainly obey him when he says simply, ‘Go and wash and be cured!”).

So lean into Romans 14 and see what is required for healing.  Paul says that we are not to judge other people.  Paul says we shouldn’t judge people, for instance, whose consciences lead them to be vegetarians.  We are not to judge people who honor the Sabbath on different days than we do.  It says we are responsible for our own consciences. It says we are to keep matters of the conscience like whether we have wine or not “between ourselves and God.”  And it asks: “who are we to condemn another man’s servant?”

Who indeed.  That is the million dollar question.  Who ARE we when we’re not judging other people?  Have we met ourselves as just a human being?  Have we met someone who can’t look down at anyone else?  Have we met fellow servants?

Yes.  Unclothed of judging, we find ourselves as a human who can actually love other people.   We find a human who can set aside old hurts.  We find a human who doesn’t have to try to control anyone else.  We have a human who discovers she can barely even control herself.  We find a person who needs God’s help, just like everyone else.

That’s because when we ask for the ancient paths and try to follow the good way – we discover we can’t.  We do judge others.  We feel an ugly need to think we’re better than other people – at least ONE person.  We discover we withhold ourselves from others, even people we’re married to, because we want to punish them for hurting us.  We put up walls, and they’re rock solid.  We find we’ve become a stranger to our own emotions because we can’t handle our rage, disappointment and hurts.  We’ve become numb.  We’re full of anxiety because we’re afraid of doing the wrong thing.  We’re afraid we will be judged.

God offers a different path.  He has every right to judge us but offers to forgive us instead.  He wants to heal our every wound.  He will forgive all our mistakes.  We don’t have to be numb about our mistakes or in denial any more.  We can remember them without being crushed.  God gives us the most powerful tool of all for enjoying other humans.  He gives us the power to forgive them everything bad they’ve ever done to us.

It’s that simple.  We can be healed if we forgive and are forgiven.  And because the simple is impossible for us flawed humans, God helps us.  He endured all the judging, criticism, condemnation, blame and punishment on the cross so we can be set free.  God knows it’s hard to forgive.  So He helps us forgive others.  The ancient paths are a place where God gives us a new heart.  He helps us assume the best about other people.  It’s a place where God assumes the best about us.  The kingdom at the end of the ancient paths is a place of “goodness, peace and joy.”

It’s worth opening not just our wallets, but our hearts for.  It’s worth leaning in to those words.  It’s worth giving it a try.  What do we have to lose?  We’ve tried everything else.  And hey, how did THAT turn out?  Not so good, right?

There is a good way.  Jesus is the way.  He’s the person we’ve looked for in every book, movie, and in the crest of every wave.  He’s the one who made us, who loves us, and who longs to heal our every hurt.  If we walk in the way of grace, we will find the rest we’ve always longed for.  Because God longs for us, too.  He’s hacking His way through the undergrowth to find us, no matter how lost we are.  His voice is calling out.  He calls us each by name.  And that’s why our mistakes are okay.  Because God uses everything – even all our wrong pathways – to lead us straight to His open arms.  All we have to do is let God find us, and we’ll weep for joy at the beautiful way he restores everything ruined.

posted by Caroline Coleman in A Chapter a Day: on healing