Holy Lego Bricks

Legos are awesome.  With a little imagination and a bucket full of plastic interlocking bricks, anything is possible.  But Legos are no fun individually.  One brick does not create a space ship or a dinosaur or a car.  Legos are best used in large quantities.

I believe we as Christians are “Holy Lego Bricks”.  In isolation, we cannot be a part of God’s kingdom on earth.  Together we can be built into a massive structure that is God’s design. 

We are relational beings and intended for community.  Yet one of the inherent dangers of us coming together like Legos is that we tend to build fortresses that keep Christians together and keep others out.  As “Holy Lego Bricks” we need to focus on being bridges and off-shoots that reach into the world.  We are still connected to other Christians who encourage and challenge us, but we are reaching beyond our own needs to love the people of this world.  God’s design is so much grander than a few Lego castles.  I believe it’s more like a network of bricks that spread in all directions while staying attached to one another and the green Lego Base (of which I will take the liberty to call God).

And just as a new creation sometimes requires dismantling an older structure for parts, so God will move His “bricks” around to better build His Kingdom.

With this new-found "Lego knowledge", I’m pondering where I am in God’s Lego Kingdom—am I safely tucked away in a wall of a fortress, at the top of a high tower far away from the Base, branching out from the structure, or sitting off by myself unattached?  Where are you?

I Am the Eldest Son

My mom just finished reading The Prodigal God by Timothy Keller with her small group, and my pastor talked about the concept today at church; I can be dense at times, but I’m getting the hint from God that I need to think on this topic a bit.

The full version of the story can be found in Luke 15:11-32, but most of us know the story well enough or are too lazy to look it up, so let me recap the major details:  A guy had two sons, “A” the eldest and “B” the youngest; “B” wanted his inheritance early, squandered it, returned home with his tail between his legs and his dad threw a party for him; “A” stayed at home and played the good son and was pissed off when “B” came back. 

The younger son gets all the attention, probably because the story is mostly about him and Sunday School teaches us not to be like that kid, but if we are, God will still take us back.  While I can sympathize with elements of the story, I’ve always applied it to others and not myself.  I never went through an extremely rebellious phase, I’ve always been good with money, and I never wanted to leave home (look where that got me…).  Perhaps this is why God has brought the story back to my attention from a different angle.

I am the epitome of the eldest son… well, what he represents anyway… obviously I’m not a boy, I come from a large family, and I’m the youngest, but I digress…  There’s a lot of joking in my family about how I’m the "favorite daughter" and the "perfect child".  My parents are proud of me.  I have avoided many of the pit-falls that my siblings found.  I obey my parents (for the most part), I’m a hard worker,  I read my bible and speak “Christianese” and help at church, I do my best to lead a biblical life, I read Christian books and attend conferences on how to love God and people better…  To borrow a phrase from a dear friend, I have become a “human doer” not a “human being”.  And to be honest, sometimes I get a little miffed when a new believer gets more attention than me when I work so hard to be such a good Christian.  When I really focus in on the story of lost son in the bible, I find myself empathizing with the older son when he lays into his dad about never being celebrated and how unfair it is that his younger brother gets all the attention for being bad.  I do an internal fist pump and a think, “Yeah! Preach it brother!”.

But this story isn’t about life-style choices, it’s about our hearts.  The father didn’t possess the hearts of either of his sons in the beginning.  Through losing everything, the younger son realized all he truly wanted was the heart of his father and for his father to have his.  Through maintaining everything, the eldest son didn’t realize what he lacked.

I don’t want to be the eldest son.  I don’t want to miss my Father’s heart, nor do I want to withhold mine from Him.   

Pulling the Trigger

For the past few days a woodpecker has been flying into the window of my parent’s living room.  It hits the window pretty hard, and then scampers off.  Woodpeckers can take a beating because of the way they’re designed, but this bird seemed suicidal.  Yesterday it hit the window harder than ever, left parts of itself on the window and laid on the front porch, twitching slightly.  My immediate thought was to put the bird out of its misery—find a BB gun and go throw it in the woods.  The wisdom of my mother was to let it be (although I think part of that was because my nephew and niece were over and she didn’t want me to kill the bird in their presence).  I wanted to end the suffering.

That got me thinking about how I respond to problems in my life and in others lives’.  I’m a fixer.  You got a problem, I will fix it.  I don’t like to watch people suffer, so if I can help in any way I will.  But after spending a week with Larry Crabb and other lonely souls longing for authentic relationships (School of Spiritual Direction), I’m learning that to try and “fix” is to dismiss the real problem.  While my immediate response is to “pull the trigger” and end the suffering, that suffering has a purpose, and I need to let it run its course.  What if God decided to put us out of our misery every time we messed up?  None of us would be around!

So yet again, my mother was right.  After sitting on the porch in a daze for a while, the bird flew off.  I don’t know if it survived much longer, but that’s not my responsibility.  The best thing I did was nothing at all.  I think that’s what I need to do more in my relationships—just be there but not try and fix anything.

Missing the Glory

Every time I meet someone new, the question of “what do you do” always creeps up.  It seems only a few years ago I eagerly awaited that question so I could respond with a resounding, “I teach middle schoolers!”  Teaching is a noble profession and respectable—I loved my job.  Now, dread rises up inside me like mercury on a hot day, because my answer is, “I’m a catering assistant.”  I find myself quick to add, “But it’s only temporary because I’m going to Africa come January.”  Why do I feel like I have to justify my current situation?  Being a missionary in Kenya must be a more gallant job than a lowly catering assistant… Or is it? 

I am making all these plans for my life, despite spouting off that I’m not, and I feel like I’m just in a holding pattern until my plans unfold.  And I can’t help thinking that I’m missing something.  If God has placed me as a catering assistant right now, then that’s where He wants me to be.  I don’t need the glory of a high paying or prestigious career.  I don’t need the recognition of “doing God’s work” overseas.  I don’t need to be constantly looking forward to what I will do.  I need to be present where God has me.  My coworkers need Jesus just as much as the people in Kenya.  My boss longs for an authentic relationship as much as I do.  The people I serve desire glimpses of Heaven just as much as the orphans I’ll work with in January.  God longs to pour out His love and grace on all of His children around the world.  Why would I say no to some and yes to others?

The lyrics of Gordon Mote’s song, “Don’t Let Me Miss the Glory” have hit me this evening:

 
“Don’t let me miss the glory
Don’t let me miss the grace
All creation is singing
To the honor of Your name
 
Don’t let me miss the wonder
Don’t let me miss the grand design
All the lightning and the thunder
Lord open up my eyes
Don’t let me miss the glory”

God, in the midst of a job I dislike, in the midst of my plans for the future, please don’t let me miss Your Glory.  Please don’t let me miss the opportunities you place in my path daily to love people.  Open my eyes to see the world as you see it, and break my heart for the things that break Yours.