"I see dead people.” That’s the unforgettable line from the movie THE SIXTH SENSE. In that film, a boy communicates with people who don’t know they’re dead. Well, I see invisible people and I am quite sure they know they are invisible. They push
cleaning carts and stand out on corners with signboards advertising “huge” sales or store closings. They are waiting in the emergency room because of no health insurance. Some invisible people stand alone after worship on Sunday mornings. They are looking for something, but they aren’t quite sure what. And they aren’t being ignored on purpose. Most of the “regulars” are, quite honestly, so focused on their own tasks and conversations that they just don’t see the invisible ones all around them yearning for a little human contact. We might hesitate before talking to them because we think they might be new, but we aren’t quite sure. So the fear of embarrassing ourselves outweighs taking the risk of making them visible.

Our current generation has created an affliction that author Bill Wiser calls “a false sense of connectedness.” Cable and satellite TV, email and
the internet seem to bring us closer together but usually do nothing to promote true intimacy. One person described himself as living a life of “10,000
acquaintances.” More than once someone has come to see me for help in breaking out of their own prison of isolation, depression and melancholy. They are
surprised when I ask them to do one act of compassion for someone else each week and to get out in a public setting at least once each day. It is
counterintuitive, but true. Reaching out is the only way to heal emptiness within.

 To Jesus, there were no invisible people. He saw them all, spoke to them all, cared for and healed them all. No one was hidden from Jesus, no matter how invisible they were to the society. That is the marching order Jesus leaves for us, “See the invisible!” Jesus’ call is for the church to be a place
where people care. We should celebrate those moments when we do recognize invisible people, helping them step out of the darkness and into the marvelous light of Christ. For each“invisible” person we see, how many stay hidden? Recognizing of each one is something we should strive for all of the
time.

I guess in some ways that was the major gripe Jesus had with the Pharisees and the like. It wasn’t that they weren’t putting forth any effort – quite the contrary. They were busy enacting legislation, interpreting legal issues, securing their own retirement, dotting every “I” and crossing each “T”.
They were very busy and energetic. The problem Jesus had with them, I think, isthat they were exercising leadership and expending energy in areas that didn’t matter at all to God. Churches can also get caught up in that far too easily. When did we see Jesus naked or hungry or in prison? It came about when we looked for those otherwise invisible to society. Why did Jesus declare the blessedness of the poor, sad, disenfranchised and otherwise unimportant to the world around them?

It was his way of saying, “You feel invisible, but you are noticed, loved and important in the eyes of God.” And to those of us seeking to be his eyes and ears and hands and feet.

Spirit of the Ever-Living God, help me this day to focus my attention on  what really matters.  Keep the fragmentsof this  day together, and as it ends,  let me see my life in its parts, my connection in its Connections, my life’s way in its many ways.  When I get confused,  clarify me. When I get lost, find  me.  And when I wonder what meaning all of the pieces have, visit me.  Confidently, in the name of Your Son, who knew the threat of the fragments to the whole, I say – Amen.

The prayer above was written by Dona E.  Schaper. I think she meant it to be used as a prayer before the day begins, but  it could be helpful in a number of ways and on many occasions.  Focusing  on the whole and not getting tangled in fragments is a lot of what modern  Christians are challenged to do. Everything is a priority.  Many causes are good
and needful and worthy. Competition for our time is fierce, often to the point  of being vicious.  The world is hungry, naked, imprisoned, disenfranchised,
lonely, angry, and all-around not too nice.  And most of the time the “world”   begins very close to home – like waiting at our church doors for food or walking
the streets of our neighborhoods. In addition to the above descriptors, though, our world is also amazing, caring, joyous, communal, hopeful,
challenging, and ultimately, I believe,  rewarding.  It is not only a  matter of  perspective. This isn’t one of those, “Is the glass half-full or  half-empty?” kind of questions. The truth is, the glass is  both. It is also the truth that the answer to that question  doesn’t really matter.  For a Christian that debate is worthless.  We are called to take the glass – while it still contains life-giving and cleansing  water –and share it with someone who is thirsty.In is a book entitled GIVING  AND STEWARDSHIP IN AN EFFECTIVE CHURCH by Sam Callahan, is the chapter  Giving Principles. In it Dr. Callahan describes the choices we  have in almost every life situation and circumstance. They are:
  + We play to win.
  + We play to avoid losing.
  + We play to lose.
  + We're not sure we want to leave the locker room.
At some time or another I suspect each of us has chosen one of the above. The lure of the
locker room  is that, at least, it is comfortable and known.  But none of the real action is  there.  Are we ready together to take the risk to play to win for Christ?  I  think “winning” happens in humility and faithfulness. I believe God has done  great things in the past. But I believe even more in, what, together, God is calling God’s people to be!

Bill transferred his membership to my Colorado
congregation when his country church was forced to close its doors. Like that little church, Bill was dying, and he knew it when I first met him. Because he knew, and I knew, and because we each knew that the other knew, there was a real immediacy in our desire to get acquainted with each other.  So whenever he talked, I listened very carefully.  I should listen that way to everyone but I listened to Bill because he was an interesting guy and because I couldn’t forget that I might not have a second chance at what he was saying.
 
One day Bill told me about the worst storm he could ever remember.  It was a vicious blizzard in the
typical high plains of Colorado style.  The whole event probably only contained a few inches of snow, but the high winds whipped those bits of ice back and forth so fast it seemed that there were at least a trillion of them at the very least.  Bill told me it had been so fierce that he and his sons had only been
able to feed the cattle in the pastures close to the house.  That meant a lot of hungry cattle were roaming loose, and they could do a
lot of roaming since Bill’s ranch covered over 10,000 acres. When the snow and wind finally stopped and they assessed their losses, Bill and his boys not only found some of their cattle missing, but they also
found some cows with unfamiliar brands in their pastures.  In the course of the next few days, they discovered that they had cattle up to a hundred miles away.  As big as Bill’s ranch was, the storm was even bigger – big enough to move his cattle
onto someone else’s ranch.

Less than two weeks after he told me that story, Bill died.  At his funeral I read from the 50th Psalm, “For every beast of the forest is Mine, the cattle on a thousand hills.  I know every bird of the mountains, and everything that moves in the field is Mine.”  Bill had moved a long way, but he was still within the boundaries of God’s “ranch.”  No matter how far afield we drift or are blown, it is impossible to escape God’s care.

Holy Week reminds me of Bill because the crucifixion tells us about the vastness of God’s love.  Bill trusted in a God who’s ranch knows no boundaries.  While life may seem to be the biggest and best gift from God, there is something better. 
In the 63rd Psalm, the writer says, “Your steadfast love is better than life.”  Jesus willingly gave up His life because He knew that there was something even better – God’s love.  While life is wonderful, God’s love is even more precious.  Precious because it is the power of God’s love that allows us to live a life above and beyond the power of death.


 

Questions. I get questions. Mostly I enjoy them. People I don’t know, but who know who I am ask me church questions. Other times they have faith questions. Sometimes they are curious about a Pastor’s life. I usually only have to answer those questions once, though, since my life is not very interesting. Overall, there is one topic that gets more questions than any other. Not even close. The #1 topic? Prayer. Yup. Prayer. How do I do it? Should I expect an answer? Why doesn’t  God do what I ask? 

Just What Is It – This Prayer Thing?
What do you count as prayers, God? Are my heartaches and  pains? How about my tears? What do you count as prayers, God? My deepest sighs? How about my laughter? Just what counts? And what should I reckon as replies? That sunset? How about the smile of a passing stranger? The more I pray, the less I find myself able to tell the difference. The more I look up, the farther I am able to see in front of me. The more I kneel, the less wear I find on my pant legs. And more miles traveled with you means less wear on my soles and more mileage in my soul.

I guess what happens, God, is a change in the way I keep track. Of you. I find you in a thousand places I would never have looked. I talk to you at stoplights and in grocery lines. The clouds on the horizon etch out a face of love. Your face.

Do you mind, Lord? Mind that conversations with you just pop out when I am reading the sports page? How about those moments of glee when I am wrestling, not with one of your angels, but a two year old with yogurt on his chin? You don’t really mind, do you?

Keep on placing your heavenly Grace along the way of my earthly journey. Put it on my tab . . .