Look closely.

Then Moses said, “Now show me your glory.” -Exodus 33:18

I cannot recall ever sharing the words of another extensively on my blog, but there is a first time for everything. Sometimes, it seems, the perfect words fall out of the mouth of someone else just exactly when we most need to hear them.

So it was last week, with me and author/ pastor John Ortberg.

My Uppity Women and I had been engaged in a six-week DVD study based on Ortberg's book, God Is Closer than You Think (Zondervan, 2005). The final message, in the final lesson, in light of a week that led many to question God's presence in our broken and wounded nation, really resonated within my small group, so I share his words now with you and invite you to spend time really soaking in the imagery. A small part of it directly references the study, but I am certain you can connect the dots of his reference to Adam and God on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

Here are Ortberg's words. Enjoy.

I have been asked by some, how I can be so certain of the existence of a good God,

and I have asked them in return if they have eyes to see.

God is as close as the bounding dog who knows and loves the voice of his Master.

He is as close as the laughter of a joyful heart, close as the touch of a friend.

Our God is not far away in some distant tower.

He is, like Waldo, present on every single page,

even when it’s hard for us to see him.

He is present in the magnificent chapels that we build for him,

and he is present in the most magnificent chapel of mountain and sea

and earth and sky that he built for us.

For his Spirit, like the wind, blows wherever it will

and breathes life into anybody who will let it.

He is present on “rainbow days,”

when our breath gets sucked out of our bodies by his beauty and grace.

He is present in the ordinary moments of every ordinary day,

when we wake and when we sleep,

when we work and when we play,

when we eat and drink,

when we fail and try again—he is there.

And in the winter of our souls, when we feel most alone,

when with Jesus, we cried out on the cross,

“My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

he is there, then, too.

We find him in the uniqueness of all of our pathways

and we find him whenever two or three of us come together in his name.

* * * * *

We started our adventure together talking about that scene

on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel

where God and Adam are just a hair’s breadth apart,

there is just this tiny little gap between them.

And one day, on the other side of the hedge,

on the other side of death,

that gap will be finally, fully closed,

and then, we will finally see, face-to-face.

But that’s tomorrow, and this is today.

And today, this is our prayer:

God, make up there come down here.

May your Kingdom come into my world, my heart, my life.

And he really can—and he really will.

Because God is closer than you think.

--John Ortberg, “God Is Closer than You Think”

All in this together

"You and these people who come to you will only wear yourselves out. The work is too heavy for you; you cannot handle it alone." 

--Exodus 18:18

It has been long-- too long-- since I posted here. I thought about it a number of times, but nothing was happening, no nudges. So I waited. 

In light of the events in my nation, the Boston Marathon bombing and the West Texas refinery fire, the shock and pain has, at times, felt overwhelming for many. The places we thought of as safe, now feel shaky. We look at each face differently. A young man carrying a large backpack can bring a brief flash of fear.

But we are not called to live in a spirit of fear. The spirit of the Most High is a spirit of freedom and perseverance. (This is not to say a Christian never experiences fear. We are still human, still broken. But we have hope.)

And we have each other.

Despite his pleadings with God that he was unsuited to leadership, Moses was, in reality, the consummate overachiever. He was trying to do it all himself, somehow certain that his "connection" with Yahweh was his alone; no one else could offer a word of advice or wisdom to the community but him. As he grew more and more tired, as his energy dwindled, he had a visit from his father-in-law Jethro.

And Jethro spoke truth.

He suggested that much of what Moses was doing could be done by others. He showed Moses how to delegate. 

And everyone became healthier as a result.

That's one part of it. But the other part is to allow ourselves to be assisted when we just cannot carry on alone. In Exodus 17, Joshua is battling the Amalekites, and Moses is standing overseeing the battle, with the staff of the Lord raised high.

When Moses grows weary, his arms drop-- and the Amalekites begin to take the battle. When he raises his arms-- victory: Joshua. But it was a long day and a long battle.

This could have been problematic, if not for Aaron and Hur.

When Moses tired, they got him a rock to sit on, and they stood-- or sat-- one on each side and kept his arms raised.

And his hands remained steady until sunset. And the victory was the Lord's-- and Joshua's.

So what does this mean to us?

It means we are not designed to walk alone in times of trouble that wear us down. It means, when we are hurting or in pain, that there are others who care about us and are willing and able to give us a break. And Moses didn't even have to ask.

Aaron and Hur could see. Moses was worn down. They knew he needed help-- and they gave it. 

We don't know if Moses tried to slough them off or not. We just know that they gave help when help was needed.

And so can we.

These are tough days. The darkness lurks, grabs at our souls and tries to convince us that something's changed. But it hasn't.

God still reigns. God is with us-- Emmanuel-- in the faces of first responders and strangers donating blood, in the cup of cool water offered and the gentle touch of a hand. God is with us in our tears, and with us when we stand, brush ourselves off and seek to adjust our definition of "normal" in light of recent events.

We-- each one of us-- are God's perfect love, with flesh on. Each one of us. Sometimes we sit on the rock and receive; sometimes we stand strong and find ways to give.

And I cannot help but offer you this. Amen

Lean on Me