Monday, December 12, 2011

Please Empty Your Pockets

I travel a fair bit. I can't begin to count the times I've emptied my pockets before being allowed through security. It's a ritual of air travel now. Perhaps that's why I was so so taken aback by a picture suddenly appearing to my mind's eye as I reflected on the miracle of Christmas this morning.

In my imagination, I saw the eternal Son of God, the Christ, emptying His pockets. As I continued to ponder the image, I let my myself imagine the conversation in heaven between the Father and the Son, just prior to the incarnation, and I watched as the scene unfolded in my mind.

The Father tenderly says, "It's time son."

The Son looks deep into the soul of the Father and says "I know...I am ready to go. This is a good plan, and yet...I am afraid of what will happen on this trip."

I understand my son. We have always been together, but for a little while it will be different. For a little while you must lay aside what you have known and truly be one of them.

Can I take my power? The power I used when we made the universe together.

No my son, you must leave that here.

Can I take my wisdom? The wisdom I have gained in our eternal relationship, the wisdom I have gained in the years I have watched our children upon the earth."

No, you must leave that here. You will grow in wisdom while you are there.

Can I take my knowledge? The knowledge of all things from the beginning of time.

No, you must learn. You must learn how to walk and how to speak. Imagine the eternal Word learning the language of our children.

Can I take my glory? The radiant glory that dazzles and shines.

No. That too you must leave here.

Can I take my all-sufficiency, my independence?

No. You will be entirely helpless. You will not even be able to feed or clothe yourself. You will drink your first meal from a human breast and be utterly dependent upon your earthly parents. You must leave all these things behind. 

But how will I protect myself? We know how violent and unpredictable they can be! What if they try to kill me before our plan is complete?

You won't protect yourself. You will be utterly vulnerable. You will have to trust me. I will watch over you and no evil will harm you until the proper time.

So, what do I take with me then? Can I take nothing from heaven to earth?

Just yourself. Only you, your essence, your spirit poured into a frail human embryo in the womb of a teenage girl. You will start from there and show them Us through one of them. You will show them Us, our Spirit, our Character, by living just as they do. You will be Emmanuel. You will be Us with them.  

Okay Father. I have emptied myself, I am ready to go...

I don't pretend to know what happened in heaven, but I can only imagine. Imagine what it must have been like for the perfect Son to contemplate leaving heaven. Imagine what it must have been like to empty Himself as He prepared to humble Himself and live in a human body. Imagine the miracle of the incarnation again this Christmas!

The immense, eternal, limitless Creator of the Universe poured into a tiny baby in a virgin's womb.

Just imagine!

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Wandering

She bounds over the stile and is off like a rocket.

I climb to the top and watch with joy as she enjoys the field stretched out before us.

My dog, Oreo, is not supposed to go into the fields without me. She knows she is supposed to wait at the bottom of the stile as I go ahead. I have trained her with many treats to wait for me to go first. Sometimes the fields are full of cows and they don't respond with joy when she goes rushing in among them. The horses don't care much for her exuberance either.

So, I go first to make sure that it is safe, then I release her with a quick "okay" and she flings herself into the freedom of the fields with reckless abandon. She races here and there investigating everything and simply enjoying the freedom the fields bring. She can run hundreds of meters in virtually any direction. No leash, no fences, no limitations to her curiosity, just the distant hedges marking the edge of her temporary paradise.

I love seeing her free. I love her just being herself. Running. Sniffing. Rolling. Leaping. Romping. It makes me smile to see her just being a happy dog. She comes back to check in every few minutes, and when she does she gets another treat.

We both look forward to our walks.

As we reach the bottom of the first field, I call her to me intending for her come, sit, and receive a treat while I go over the stile first. She pauses, looking back at me over her shoulder, but doesn't come back.

Instead...She bounds over the stile and is off like a rocket.

This time I'm not smiling as I hurry to the stile, whistling and calling her. As I peer over I see her off in the distance leaping over yet another stile. She's not paying any attention. She's no longer even trying to obey.  She doesn't care about the treats. She is just gone.

As I hurry through the mud to close the distance between us, I see her cross into yet another field. A field where I know there are horses. Having seen her get kicked in the head once by a cow, I'm not eager to see her confronted by the horses.

I have now broken into a run and am yelling her name, not that she can hear me as she is easily 300 meters away and has disappeared over a hill in the adjacent field.

I continue running after her, concerned that she may get hurt, and wondering why oh why she would run away like this. We always have such a good time together! She has never run off like this before. It's not uncommon for her to go over a stile, but to run away entirely is a brand new behaviour.

As I go through yet another stile I come across some friends who have seen her. They point me in another direction; which is helpful as I no longer have any idea where she is headed or what she is doing. What has gotten in to her?!

Finally, I catch up with her and find her walking with another friend and his dog. I call out, and my friend and his dog turn and start toward me. Not my dog. Not Oreo.

No...Oreo, seems to have developed selective hearing. She doesn't even turn around. Then, she lies down and refuses to come to me. As I approach, she starts to squirm into the submissive position. She knows that she has run off, and she knows that nothing good will come of it. She has been away from me for at least 20 minutes while I ran through the fields pursuing her.

I put her on the lead and start for home, fuming!

What had started out as a wonderful shared experience was ruined for both of us because she decided to ignore me and run off. She doesn't understand or recognize the dangers, and even though she didn't get hurt this time, the dangers were very real. She knew there was freedom, joy, and treats with me, but she caught the sent of something she wanted more and was gone. She didn't care what I wanted. The end result was that she ended up on the lead and I ended up angry and late for a meeting. Neither one of us enjoyed the walk back.

But it was on the way back that God unfolded the parable to me.

As I fumed about the dog and grumbled under my breath about her behaviour, He gently called my attention to the previous evening.

I had heard his invitation the previous evening, but had run off. I felt His invitation to sit at His feet, open His Word, and spend some time together, but I didn't want to. I just wanted to play a silly computer game. I had worked hard and felt entitled to my own time, to do my own thing, so that is what I did. I ran off and did my own thing. I felt the tug several more times over the next couple of hours as I played  my game, but kept ignoring His promptings, pretending not to hear and running off again. Finally, at 4AM I collapsed into bed exhausted and dissatisfied.

The funny thing is that I really enjoy my times with Him. My times with Him refresh my soul and stimulate my mind. I am more myself and more full of love and joy, peace and patience, during and after my times with Him. When we do life together, it's great! It is much better on every level than a computer game, but in a fit of sheer madness it somehow seemed like a good idea to run from my all loving Father.

By the time we made it home I was truly repentant and grateful for my Master. I can't say Oreo felt the same. I can tell you that she was ready and raring to go on a walk again the next day. I can also tell you that she hasn't run off since. Our relationship is restored and full of joy and freedom again. And my relationship with the dog isn't bad either.
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