Turn Toward the Light

As a relative newcomer to the Canadian prairies, I delight in the cheerful sight of a field of blooming sunflowers. Their sun-shaped, bright yellow heads raised in unison to the east always lift my heart with joy. It is a common misconception that all sunflowers follow the movement of the sun, however this is only true of young sunflowers not yet in bloom. At dawn the budding flowers face east and move west throughout the day in a rhythm synchronized by the sun, called “heliotropism”. When in full bloom the mature flowers continuously face east to draw the most warmth from sunlight.

The Heliotropic Effect is a recent hypothesis that suggests societies, cultures, organizations and individuals work towards the most positive images they hold of themselves. Like sunflowers, people are drawn toward the light of positive affirmation, encouragement and gratitude. This is thought to be a healthy mindset, however, the foundational basis of self-focus may lead to inflated egos, perfectionism and hypocrisy if not balanced.

In fact, this modern hypothesis has its roots deep in the truth of God’s Word, but with a significantly different focus. Followers of Jesus Christ desire to look toward the perfect Son of God, to derive their identity and purpose from His positive image, not their own.

And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into His likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.
(2 Cor. 3:18 NIV )

A person with an unveiled face has no barriers between himself and God. His position before God is restored because of Jesus Christ’s sacrifice of His own perfect life, taking the place of our imperfect lives. So without the veil of sin, in a right standing before God, we can reflect His glory by becoming more like Him as we soak in His life-giving Spirit. In His inspired Word, God reveals the image He wants us to emulate in the person of Jesus. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, God is gradually transforming us to be more like Jesus. He instills in us the desire to look toward His Son as our model of a life pleasing to God.

Dear friends, we are already God’s children, but He has not yet shown us what we will be like when Christ appears. But we do know that we will be like Him, for we will see Him as He really is. (1 John 3:2 NLT)

The Heliotropic Effect hypothesis falls short because of its emphasis on self realization. Appreciative Inquiry founders, who coined the theory, say, “Like a plant that grows in the direction of a light source, individuals and groups strive to grow towards the positive image they hold.”  No matter how hard we strive, we cannot make ourselves perfect. But by turning our faces to the Son, like a sunflower, we are imbued with the gift of reflecting His perfect likeness to the world around us.

Between His Shoulders

Atop my bookshelf stands a small wood carving of Jesus as a shepherd, with a staff in his hand and a lamb across his shoulders. It is primitive and roughly carved, yet I contemplate it often because I sometimes see myself as that lamb in need of care.

It is a reminder of the countless times Jesus has carried me when I’ve been too weak and wayward to take my next step, when He lifted me up and draped me across His shoulders, rescuing me from outer circumstances or inner failures I could not escape myself. More than that, it is a vivid picture of His love being a place of protection and rest.

“Let the beloved of the Lord rest secure in Him, for He shields him all day long, and the one the Lord loves rests between His shoulders.” (Deut. 33:12 NIV)
Before the patriarch Moses died, he pronounced this blessing over the tribe of Benjamin, along with blessings for the other tribes of Israel. The temple, God’s dwelling place on earth, would be located in Benjamin’s territory, surrounded by the protection of shouldering hills. Benjamin is spoken of as a beloved tribe, enjoying intimate communion with the Lord.

This verse also reminds me of the shepherd, Jesus, portrayed often in the New Testament. In Luke 15 Jesus uses a parable about a lost sheep to convey the lengths He will go to seek a lost sinner. In the parable, when the shepherd finds his lost sheep, “he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home.” A lamb carried on the shoulders of a strong shepherd or God’s temple secure in the folds of shouldering hills; quite different perspectives, yet vividly depicting the protective, caring heart of the Good Shepherd of my soul.

Not only do I see myself, a child of God, secure and shielded on His shoulders, I also draw comfort from being “the beloved of the Lord” and “the one the Lord loves.” Like a warm blanket, these words wrap around my heart with the everlasting, perfect love only God can provide. What more selfless act of love is there than that of Jesus’ sacrifice on my behalf?  “I came to give life with joy and abundance. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down His life for the sheep in His care.” (John 10:10-11 The Voice)

There is a rest like no other found in the care of the Good Shepherd. The image of resting between His shoulders gives me such a sense of peace and safety. I can rest calmly there, even in the midst of trials and chaos, because I know what it is to experience that peace which passes all understanding, coming from His indwelling Holy Spirit. In his book, A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23, Phillip Keller writes, “Our Shepherd knows best when He leads us through the dark valleys with Himself. He knows where we can find strength, and sustenance and gentle grazing despite every threat of disaster about us.”

My rough little carving represents the safest, most loving place I can be, resting between the shoulders of the Shepherd of my soul.

A Nest for Herself

A Nest for Herself is the first of several original seasonal stories I am posting to endeavor to convey the truths of  Christmas in a subtler form. These are my gifts to you, dear readers. I hope these small stories draw you into the greatest Story we are looking forward to celebrating.

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It was the lights which first drew her, glowing warmly from tall arched windows. Snow swirled thickly where the yellow beams lay across the sidewalk. Laurie Kay stood just outside their reach, her pale face turned up to the high colored windows set like jewels in the stone facade of the towered cathedral. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to catch the falling snowflakes on her tongue. They melted on her cheeks, cooling the hot tears trickling down. How did she come to be here in this unfamiliar part of town, where well-dressed people carrying glittering packages rushed past her? Why had she come to Christ Church Cathedral?

A peal of bells cascaded from the top of the tower, ringing out a joyous Christmas carol. In a few hours the carved double doors would swing wide to welcome in people for a Christmas Eve service. She would be far from here by then, maybe at the shelter or on the corner by Tom’s Bar; anywhere she could find a little warmth. If it got colder she might even knock on JD’s door. A few bruises were the price she might have to pay for a warm place to spend the night. He was still mad about her having the baby. She pulled her thin coat as tight as she could around her swelling stomach.

Someone came out of a small door at the base of the cathedral tower and hurried down the street. Laurie Kay caught a glimpse of warm wood paneling and soft yellow lights. Without thinking, she crossed the sidewalk and slipped inside before the door closed automatically behind her. The hush of this holy place fell around her shoulders like a blanket, muffling the clatter of the city beyond its doors. Warmth, stillness, a sweet scent of burning candles and polished wood; she knew this place. Maybe not this actual place, but she knew the atmosphere. She grew up in a place like this, it was like home. She couldn’t go home but maybe she could stay here for a little while to warm up.

Across the city the windows of a simple old church grew increasingly bright with a flickering light. A man inside made his way patiently around the sanctuary, lighting candles tucked in greenery on window sills and walls. At the last pew he blew out the taper in his hand and sank down with a sigh. The old church’s scarred walls and stained ceiling took well to the forgiving candlelight. This gentle light would help hide the sadness in his eyes and strained lines around his mouth. When he stepped up to the pulpit shortly to lead the Christmas Eve worship service, Pastor Randall would need to work hard to project the joy of the Christmas season he wasn’t feeling.
Where was she? Was she warm? Safe? Even alive?

Thoughts of his daughter Birdie wore their weary way through his mind once more. After her mother’s death two years ago, Birdie had turned a hurt and angry shoulder on the life she grew up in. He remembered her as a little girl perched on the edge of the pew below him, her feathery head of dark hair and round brown eyes giving him a focal point while he preached. His wife would gently hold her hand to keep her from fluttering from pew to pew in the middle of his sermon to visit the church family who loved her so much. After his wife’s death he spent long hours alone in his study, unable to deal with Birdie’s despair along with his own. He was helpless against her anger and rebellion, rising from her broken, motherless heart. His feeble attempts to comfort her barely touched the passion of her grief. She flung herself against the loving arms of family and friends until they could no longer hold her. Then she flew away, a crippled bird, into the night.

Laurie Kay caught her breath when she stepped through the recessed door into the vast vaulted chamber of the cathedral’s sanctuary. It was as if heaven’s floor had dropped away so she could gaze up into its glory. The frescoed ceilings far above gathered the glow of a myriad of candles and jeweled scenes in stained glass windows seemed to come alive in their flickering light. There were a few people dotted among the rows of oaken pews. She went unnoticed as she stole up the side aisle to slide in beside one of the tall stone pillars. She leaned her head wearily against its cool surface, gradually relaxing into the warm, quiet hush of the great church.

A rich tapestry hung near the high altar, with intricate threads weaving a picture of the Virgin Mary and infant Jesus. Thoughts of her own mother came crowding in to her mind. She was too tired to stop them so she let them flow, remembering the sound of her mother’s laughter, her eyes alight as she held Laurie Kay up to put the angel on the top of the Christmas tree. With the house darkened except for the twinkling tree lights, they would wait for Laurie Kay’s father to come home, and each time he would exclaim how beautiful everything looked. But his gaze was only for her mother and for his little Birdie snuggled close to his side. Such comfort and belonging seemed so long ago, shattered by the sound of sirens in the night and men in white taking her mother hurriedly away. The pain was so great that Laurie Kay had only one urgent desire; to fly, to escape, to lose herself in a life so opposite to what she had known, she would never be reminded of what home used to be. She had succeeded for a time, up until tonight when she turned a corner to see the windows of the great cathedral gleaming through the snow. If this lofty chamber was as near to home as she could find, then she would rest here a while.

She noticed a carving of a small round bird on the high arm of the pew in front of her. Looking closer, she saw a bronze plaque below, with words inscribed.

“Blessed Are They That Dwell in Thy House”
“During the construction of Christ Church Cathedral in 1895, a swallow’s nest with eggs was discovered at the peak of this Gothic arch. Work was halted in this section until the eggs hatched and the fledglings left the nest. When the arch was completed, the nest was preserved in plaster and remains there to commemorate this house of God as a sanctuary for all His creatures.
“Yea, the sparrow hath found a house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even Thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God.” Psalm 84:3”

Laurie Kay’s gaze followed the length of the stone column, seeking out a tiny gray nest tucked in the embrace of the curving arch.There it was, the one spot a little mother swallow had chosen as the safest place to have her young. In the midst of the formation of this mighty cathedral she found sanctuary, and God had protected her.
“Will I not do the same for you?”
The words came fully formed in her mind, settling in her heart just above the warm round form of the child within her. There was a safe place she knew of, much like this. She remembered the warmth, the refuge, the love she once knew there. Could she go back…like this? In all her migrations in the mire of this sickened world, she never forgot the sound of her father’s voice calling her his Birdie. Perhaps it was time to wing her way home.

Pastor Randall was reluctant to extinguish the candles yet. Their glow tinged the edges of his heart with a little warmth and he found solace in the quiet of the empty church. There was just enough light to read the banner hung above the pulpit.
“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”
He prayed for God’s good will to reach his daughter, to bring her peace, wherever she was. His requests for her became more simple the longer she was gone, yielding all his anxiety into a single prayer of surrender.
Candle flames guttered in a sudden draft sweeping through the opened church door. Before he turned around, he heard a sound like wings beating the air, becoming the patter of light footsteps running up the aisle. The weight of the child was forgotten as Laurie Kay flew into her father’s arms.

The Forsaken Hour

I watch her walk away, this one I love; her back stiff as a wall against me. The very foundations of who I am and what I believe have been attacked and rejected by her. My heart cries out, losing sight of its true north. The needle of my faith jerks crazily, pulled awry by doubts, hurt, loss. The compass of my identity, firm in the grip of God, suddenly lacks direction and I feel as though I’ve lost my way. I am forsaken.

Forsaken, renounced, rejected, estranged. For a while the capacity for this close human relationship to wound and grieve brings me down to the dirt. Tears wet my pillow at night. I rise, unable to sleep, my heart dully thudding in my chest, my mind replaying words said and unsaid.

I try to understand how all the years of care, encouragement, sacrifice and love could be twisted off course so radically. Shared moments of joy, being there for each other, common memories binding us — now are shattered shards lying at my feet.

For days and weeks I worry over these shards of a broken relationship, wondering how they will ever be put back together. I pray, I search the Word, I cry out to God, yet the needle of my compass still spins wildly.

Doubt is a dark magnet pulling me from my true north, whispering, “Maybe you did treat her the way she says you did. Maybe your attitude was judgmental. Maybe you’ve been wrong all this time.” The father of lies squirms his way through the shards, spreading poison like blood on broken glass. I begin to realize this battle is not with me. It is a battle fought in a much greater dimension, a spiritual realm. If I believe what the enemy says and take this rejection personally, I will give him what he wants. I refuse to listen.

Instead I ask the One who knows. Show me the truth. If I need to make things right, reveal them to me. Help me see what You see.

And gradually the needle slows its spinning. Nothing has changed on the outside. The rift is the same and her heart is still cold toward me. But the air of my inner spirit is finally clearing and my feet are finding the right path again.

“Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you,” Jesus, my true north, tells me. (Heb.13:5b NIV) I remember before when I was forsaken by someone else close to me, in the end it was Jesus who remained. He remains now, amidst the shards. Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you. The never of Jesus lasts for all eternity.

“Those who know your name trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you.”  (Psalm 9:10) A compass is used by those who are seeking, to find their way. My compass was sent reeling by the blow of an earthly rejection, but true north, the absolute truth of the One who has never forsaken me, points me in the right direction again.

My heart will grieve over this broken relationship until there is healing, which I fervently pray for. But my spirit, that which finds its home in Christ, is secure and at peace, its needle pointing to the true north of His unfailing love.

“The Lord Himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” – Deut. 31:8