Incomprehensibly Fabulous

In several places of the New Testament, Christians are told to "put on" something, or to "clothe" themselves with something (as th NIV tends to translate it). I find this concept interesting because it hints at a couple of different things.

The verse I was thinking of was Colossians 3:12. Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

Now, the first thing that this suggests is that these attributes are things that we will have "put on," because they are not yet inherent to our nature. I think that this is both goad and comfort. Babies don't enter the world clothed; it is not the natural way of things. Left to ourselves, our natural bent is to look out for ourselves first and everything and everyone else, second. We are instructed, though, to put these things on--it will require some effort on our part, then. We are not going to wake up one morning and suddenly feel loving to everyone in all circumstances. Instead, we will put on love and compassion and kindness. We will choose to display those items, even if we have to suffer a bit sometimes for that particular "fashion."

Which leads me to the second idea that I think can be drawn from this: when people meet you, in public, one of the first things they see is your clothing. They may not notice it to the exclusion of all else, but it does tend to register. If we're looking for someone, one of the first things we ask is, "What were they wearing?"

And I think that this is pointing to that same idea. Earlier, in Romans 13:14, we're told to clothe ourselves "with the Lord Jesus Christ." Why? What does that mean? If we're putting on Christ, putting on His behaviors and characteristics, then like our clothing, those will be the first things noticed about us. If you've ever talked to someone who was very kind or very compassionate or very gentle, you know what I mean. Later on, when you try to conjure up that person in your mind, that attribute of their character colored everything you remembered about them. It was the first thing you saw, the first thing you remembered.

Now, my figure is not amazing. When I choose clothing, I am trying to choose things that will make it look less potato-shaped, if you will. And when I put on Christ and His ways, frankly those are layered over something (myself) that is not yet very attractive. I'm working on it, just as one might work on one's figure through diet and exercise. But I rely on those things that I put on to cover my inadequacies and to allow people to see what I am trying to grow into, moment by moment.

Last night, we were attending a charity auction to support the United Church of God's "Good Works" program. The proceeds of the auction went to sponsor the education of children in east Africa, and it was a wonderful evening. Along with the auction, we were entertained by students of the church's Ambassador Bible Center.

It was during one of these--a song accomanied by piano--that I noticed that the snare drum up in the stage area was vibrating with the sound coming from the piano. Though the two instruments were separated by a little distance, they were close enough that the music from one moved the other to sound as well.

At first, I only thought of the logistics of musical instruments, of unintentional accompaniment that would have benefited from a little more space between drum and piano. But then, I thought about human resonance and how sensitive we are to the things we are near. What are the things in my environment that vibrate my heart and my emotions, that resonate in my actions?

I find it true that we will in some way hum along with whatever "tune" we are nearest. When I had a close friend who used shocking language, for example, it was very hard not to think in those words myself. Those who are in perpetual bad moods pull my mood to the flat side, too. The only way to make sure that I stay on my chosen pitch is to pull myself closer to the things and the people that are in tune with the things that I profess to hold dear.

And of course, for me, that has to start with God. Am I drawing closer to Him? Am I setting myself free to sing the song that He would give me? Or am I belting out something else and edging away, uncomfortable with the resonance?

When I first met my husband, we were visiting an area in which neither of us lived. At the end of three days, we each headed home to our own towns; mine was Green River, Wyoming. His was Indianapolis, IN.

I remember very clearly the pangs of being separated by geography from one whom I adored. I would think, "I wonder what he is doing now. I hope he's well." But secretly, I would hope he wasn't too happy without me, as I longed so much to be with him. I had fun without him there, but I knew how much more fun everything would be if we were together.

I was jealous of people who got to see him every day. I was jealous of the activities he pursued while we were far apart. It wasn't an angry jealousy, a jealousy that demanded that he should do nothing but sit at home, pining and writing letters (though, well, I didn't mind when he was pining and writing letters, because hello! Letters from my guy!). It was a jealousy that hoped he would remember me, that the people he was with wouldn't distract him from me completely, that he would still, somewhere, be thinking of me--because I thought of him.

Confession: I'm still jealous over him. We've been married for fifteen years (well, come July). Still, when we are apart, I always hope he's having fun--but not too much fun. It delights me when he calls during the day, or brings home some little something, or sends me an e-mail...it tells me that I am not forgotten, that even if I am temporarily eclipsed by something important, he still thinks of me and loves me more than almost anything.

Today, I was thinking about God and His jealousy. I wonder whether He is the same way over my heart. Does He wish that I would remember Him more often? Does He know that I need time to nap or play or be silly, but hope that underneath, I will remember Him and not tarry too long? Do the times I remember Him--the Sabbaths, the prayers, the hymns--do they delight Him?

I think we've reviewed--many times--the fact that I am not a gardener by nature. I'm too impatient, and fickle and--let's face it--find nothing exciting about getting my hands dirty. And though I rather wish I did enjoy it, as it seems such a responsible thing to do, I've made peace with the fact that one person can't do everything and stick to my passionate pursuit of all things involving sitting down and books.

But that doesn't mean that the imminent approach of spring leaves my heart unturned. Spring, while not my favorite season, is one of the top four. Much like fall, it's a turning season, a time of transition and anticipation. Anything could happen, surely, with the scent of spring on the breeze!

And while others pore over seed catalogs that arrive in the mail, or plan their flowerbeds and vegetable rows, I'm thinking about the sermon that my husband gave on Sabbath. In a by-the-way fashion, he mentioned that we are all responsible for building and for planting seeds, and that those things require stepping out on faith. If I put a seed in the ground, I want to run out there every day and see whether it's growing, much the same way that Chris hovers over his beloved sassafrass tree all spring long, nurturing it, tending it, and threatening the neighborhood rabbits.

But seeds take their own time. Some germinate in a week, some take much longer. And although it's not obvious to my eye, once that seed is in the ground, there is change happening. There is action and growth. But it will not be revealed to me until it is the right time.

I am a creature that likes definition and control. I like to know what's happening, why, who's involved, and what my responsibility is. When I put forth effort, I want results--now! I want immediate feedback! And yet, that is not what I am called to do.

Whether it is at home--with my own sons--or at work with others' children, I am only planting seeds. I don't know which will blossom and grow and which will remain dormant for perhaps a lifetime. I don't know which seeds will be a lasting legacy--what will my children, for example, rememenr? Will it be my special recipe for swiss steak? Will it be the family trips? Will it be talking while grocery shopping? Will it be hugs? Reminders? Monologues? The pattern of the fabric on the sofa? The hundreds of books? The weekly trips to church and then to grandma's house?

Will the students at school remember that I smiled a lot? That my voice was high and breathy? That I wore billowing skirts and big earrings? That I found them a book that they fell in love with? That I knew where to find information on frogs? That I was a foe (or a friend) on the "underground railroad" that ran through our school? Will the seeds of care and concern and love of literature that I am planting come to fruition someday?

I don't know, any more than I could have foreseen, last March, that I would be working at the school this year. The seeds I planted over the years brought forth a harvest I could not have expected. And I am trying to remember that, right now, in the thick of my worries about school and work, that I am still responsible for planting, and that a harvest will someday happen. I can't see the growth fully now. I may not see it for years and years. But there is planting, every day that I am alive and move throughout the actions of life. I can't choose what I will harvest--but I step out in faith that God is a faithful gardener, so much more conscientous than I.

There are several passages in the New Testament regarding the relationship between slaves and masters. I think it's easy to read across these sparely, since we are no longer a people who practice indentured servitude or slavery. I think this skipping over is a mistake, though, as there are several lessons to be learned.

( Let's Do a Little Reading First )

There's a lot right there, a lot to read and understand without my humble words in addition. Still, I think that there is more that we can take from this text.

The first thing that pops into my mind is that the slave/master relationship is not so dead as we might tend to think. Many of us have paying jobs; granted, being an employee has many characteristics that are not share with slavery. Still, we sign away a certain amount of our freedom and self-will when we agree to be employed by another person. If we look at these verses with this in mind, how are we "wage slaves" doing? Are we grumbling? Chafing? Eager to speak out against "The Man"? Are we serving our employers as though we were serving God? Or are we serving resentfully, angrily, moodily?

The second thing I think of is that it is very easy to put ourselves into the "slave" role here--but many of us are also "masters," aren't we? Even if we don't have employees, many of us have people in our lives that we boss around: children, volunteers, spouses, coworkers. Are we harsh? Are we making it hard for these "slaves" of ours to serve willingly?

A third thing is that God gives us no easy "out" here. There's no qualifier of "if the master is a nice guy" or "if your slave is obedient and cheerful." Instead, we are explicitly told that we are to serve well or manage well regardless of what the other person in the relationship is doing. That is, we are to be obedient and capable servants whether the master is Godly or not, because we are not serving only that human. We are serving, with our work, our Lord.

Likewise, we cannot say, "Well, I was harsh because he's a lousy servant," because we are serving under God's authority as well.

I think a nice summation of this comes in Hebrews 13:17, where we read, "Obey your leaders and submit to their authority. They keep watch over you as men who must give an account. Obey them so that their work will be a joy, not a burden, for that would be of no advantage to you.

Even the face value of this is hard to do. Make someone else's job a joy? Even when they make our life havoc? Well, yes. But let's look at this in the opposite direction. If we are a leader, if we are in authority, wouldn't it be to our advantage to make it easy for that servant to obey? Easy for that follower to do as he is asked or told? Yes.

How is your work life? Whether you work at home, with children shifting between servants and masters? With your husband? With your wife? With your employer? With your employee? Could an investigative report be run on your work habits and turn up no black marks or black looks?

Let's use today to start putting our hearts right and to start speaking God's name through the excellence of our work habits and relationships.