In his work, “The Four Quarters,” T.S. Eliot writes, “We had the experience  but missed the meaning.”  In the movie OH GOD, George Burns’ character (the Almighty) says he doesn’t do many miracles anymore. The reason, he explains, is that people tend to remember the miracle and forget why, and by whom, it was done. How often do we see, really see, that all around us is composed mostly of pure glory?  Eliot is particularly on target and God – well God is never wrong. In the midst of putting one foot in front of the other, people often miss out on what is good and kind and caring in our world.  For resurrection to occur we have to first allow something to die. On occasion it means admitting that we have already died and do so miss life. Sometimes the brightest and best things about life are the very ones we miss.

Playwright Thornton Wilder told about a custom in a little European village in  the late 1800’s.  It was the practice there, on New Year’s Day to send flowers to every home where one had dined in the past 12 months.  When that day came in this particular year, an impoverished painter was so poor that he couldn’t afford flowers - so he sent paintings, mostly of flowers.  The upper crust residents who received his offerings had the paintings "displayed" in their barns and storage areas - if they were even hung at all!  One family had so many that they held a burning party for hi works one day soon after the artist left town.  A member of that family related to  Wilder how, on one Sunday afternoon, he himself had helped to incinerate 11 of the painter's major pieces. He was a promising young fellow named. . . Paul Cezanne.

Unnoticed treasures, like dead people, are everywhere. This unnoticed phenomenon all depends on us (“Those who have eyes – let them see.”) Maybe the whole point of life, what God hard wired deep in our Spiritual DNA, is to connect those who are walking around “dead” with the sacred recognition of what a treasured masterpiece life is. Resurrection requires both death and a desperate recognition of the intimate blessings of life.  Who would want to look back on their life and say, “I was surrounded by beauty but I hung it in a closet or destroyed it with a fire?”

One of the most human and poignant moments in television history is provided by Father Mulcahy in the show M*A*S*H*. When the camp is in a full-blown medical emergency the priest asks what he can do to help and is told to pray, His quick response is, "Aww, that's all I ever get to do!" In the moment he wants to do more, be more and participate more. He knows the importance of prayer, but in that moment wants to be prayer in action. Often people draw me into their lives by asking me to pray for people and situations that matter to them. I have come to accept that as a great compliment. Sometimes they give me painstaking detail as to the person and their particular need. Other times the details are left anonymous. The following is one of the prayers I use to pray a prayer that connects me with others and, most importantly, with God:

Create in us, all of us, Dear God, a clean heart. Wash our bodies and our spirits and vanquish all sickness from within us and from without. As the rain falls gently on the earth, let your healing also rain upon our parched and arid bodies and souls. Be re-born in us. Again. And again.

For those whose bodies are sick, bring your healing salve. Touch broken bones, soothe aching joints and treat them with the medications of patience and care. Where there is pain, bring comfort; where there is a need for rehabilitation, grant endurance.

For those whose minds are sick, calm disquieted thoughts; and order the chaos of disturbed visions and numbing memories. Reach out to them, Lord, for there are many “demons” possessing your children. Demons of addiction and desire. Demons slipping in through the cracks of hopelessness and despair.

For those whose hearts are sick, administer your own CPR. Many are heart-sick for an Eden we must see only with eyes of faith. Make room in each and every heart. Prepare in them room for the Babe in the Stable; the Child in the Temple; the Carpenter in the Workshop; the Teacher of the Twelve; the Lamb on the Cross; and the Lord on Your Throne.

 Some of those we mention are known to us, and loved, O God. Others of them we will never know. But they are known to You. Help us to love them as You do. Through Jesus we pray. Amen.

A  number of winters ago I had a slip on the ice which necessitated me calling an orthopedic specialist. After the examination I was more black and blue as well as confused. When he had finished twisting my body around treating me like Gumby he said, “It is my conviction that an arthroscopic procedure is contraindicated due to your unusually inflamed, ostreoarthritic “what’s-it” (or something that sounded a lot like “what’s-it”) which I find to be . . . “ At this point I had glazed over and don’t recall what he said about my “what’s-it”. I think he said it was larger, smaller, darker or lighter than normal. The next time I ran into our family physician, I told him about my experience. He just nodded and said that Dr. Rambo (not his real name but an alias I have chosen to prevent a mal-patient suit) practiced medicine as a science and not an art. 

That insightful observation got me thinking about how many folks treat life like a science and not an art. Scientists tell us that one rotten apple can spoil the rest of the peck. Many people also believe that is the case with life. I have found that, when it comes to human beings, one good apple can transform more than a peck of people already written off as“over-ripe.” To understand the nature of things, science often demands that the object under scrutiny be broken down into its smallest, individual parts. If that was true of life we could best understand humans by looking at the $35 bag of chemicals and gallons of water that make up our body. 

“Science without religion is lame, religion without science is blind.” said Albert Einstein. Is your life more of an art or a science? Want to find out? Then, let’s take a little test:
        
+Does the simple, overwhelming beauty of the world ever make you gasp?
        
+Instead of only telling time, do you ever stop to discover what time is telling you?

+Have you recently pondered the night sky, looking for a doorway into your own heart, instead of Halley’s Comet?
         
+Is life so precious to you that you would gladly give it up to save the life of a loved one? (Extra Credit if you would give it up for someone you don’t know and Extra, Extra Credit if you would give it up for someone you do know, but don’t like.)
 
Give yourself 1 point for every “yes” and a day off to explore the world around you for every “no.” We need science. Science is good. Without it, we would never have put a person on the moon, a rover on Mars or been able to restore the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Without science and scientists, there would be no life-saving vaccines and no one who knows how to build bigger and better roach motels.

 If you look at a painting and can tell the chemical composition of the pigments and are able to retrace how the framers stretched the canvas, life is probably a science for you. If the painting makes you think of how the color-laden palette of the past has splashed upon the canvas of the present, life has moved beyond science. The way I see things leads me to believe the future hope for living lies in the art of the thing. 


 

The Lord is my Shepherd,  I shall not want; 
He makes me lie down in green pastures . . .
Psalm 23: 1-2a

In both popular culture and colloquial sayings we know where the grass is greener – on the other side of the fence.  In many years of ministry I have heard countless spouses relate such a belief to me.  No more green pastures – only dry desert or barren wasteland.  Teens have admitted that they feel like their lives are already used up.  Somewhere, but not here, they are saying, the grass is greener.  I disagree.  I disagree not because I don’t believe in the dry times.  Like everyone else, I have experienced my share. Even when my backyard is under 2 feet of snow there is a green pasture just waiting to be experienced.  Right under my feet. Even when I can’t feel it.  Whether I believe in it or not, it is there!

Often in relationship counseling I ask the couples,” Don’t you think it would be easier to make a new beginning with the same person?”  Some take the advice.  Others squirm for a moment and then describe a vague situation which involves a new beginning by finding green pastures across the fence, across the street, across the country - in another person’s arms.   
 
I say the greener pastures, like everything else in life, lie right at our feet, as constant as our heartbeat, as near as a song, as close as a prayer.  We can learn much from others, travel is good and checking out other ideas is essential to our own development.  But greener pastures are right where we live and love and lament.  Often hope is not found with new pastures, new partners or new communities of faith.  Faith asks us to nurture new shoots of green from what appears to be old, maybe even dead. Remember the new shoot that came forth from the old (to most eyes finished) stump of Jesse?  His name is Jesus.