Pixie Dust

Reflections on Isaiah 11:6, Matthew 17:20-21 & Romans 8:28

“… and a little child shall lead them.”

On Tuesday nights youth gather in the basement of my church, in an area we call THE CAVE.  They come to share a meal and to hangout, maybe do homework or play pool or even study the bible. This week some youth came with whole families in tow.  There are many families throughout New Jersey and New York who are still without power as a result Hurricane Sandy.  Tuesday was day eight of no power, no lights, no heat, no technology, for some no water.  Temperatures inside those homes were registering in the 40s.  It was getting old as well as cold. The church was warm though.  Its power had been restored on Friday (day 4).  So our Tuesday night gathering was a chance to warm up, charge phones and iPods and share a meal … in the light!

While many of us were eating manicotti and swapping lights-out stories, seven-year-old Lila was gathering pixie dust.  She had found a handful of old Halloween confetti on the floor of a small storage closet.  She carefully scooped it up without attracting any attention and began quietly handing it out to those seated around the kitchen bar.  When she got to me, she tapped me on the arm and unfurled her hand, inviting me to take a look.  I saw Halloween confetti, but Lila saw pixie dust, magic pixie dust.

She invited me to make a wish, but not at the bar.  I had to sit in a magic chair that she had positioned under a recessed light.  I was not familiar with pixie dust etiquette, so Lila explained that I needed to sit in the magic chair, while she sprinkled the dust on the top of my head.  My job was to silently make a wish.  So I did.  When my wish was made, I shook my head and let the pixie dust fly, then I went back to the bar to finish my dinner.

Lila invited a couple of others to make wishes and it was no mystery what those silent wishes were.  Everyone was wishing for power.  Not magic power or financial power or even political power (it was election night), we were all wishing for electrical power, for life to return to some sense of normal.

“For truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’, and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.”

Life in the Cave went right back to normal.  Making wishes to satisfy the exuberance of a seven-year-old was fun and cute, but came without expectation or any renewed sense of hope.   We all returned quickly to conversations about generators, gasoline and electric companies and Lila moved on easily too, ditching the pixie dust for a princess puzzle.  But then the cell phones began to ring; first one call, then another.  Power had returned for Michele at her home and then Kira got the call and Kyle.  There was an instant change in mood in the room and all eyes began to turn to Lila.  Silent wishes were revealed, all having been granted via a handful of confetti and the faith of a child.  Call it coincidence or luck or serendipity, whatever your want, but the circumstance and the timing were pretty wonderful.  The only one who was unmoved, who was not surprised, was Lila.  With the nonchalance of certainty, she simply responded to our amazement with the matter-of-fact reasoning of faith; “I told you it was magic.”

Pixie dust and mustards seeds aren’t magic and Halloween confetti can’t turn on the lights, but faith can move mountains.  And faith, it appears isn’t surprised when the mountains move.  Faith expects God to act.  Faith trusts that our hopes and our wishes matter of God.  Faith knows that with God all things are possible.  Faith also frees us to let go, once the wish is made, allowing us to move on to other matters, other puzzles, knowing that our prayers are resting in God’s merciful hands and while all might not be resolved quickly or even exactly as per our request, the assurance that God works all things together for the good is enough.  Faith is the light that makes living in the dark possible.

“We know that all things work together for the good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.”

   *Please know that this in no way seeks to make light (no pun intended) of those who lost so much more than power as a result of Hurricane Sandy.  There is no magic pixie dust that can bring loved ones back or repair a home that has been swept way by the ocean.  But faith tells us that life does not end with death and the story, our stories are not yet fully written.  God has more to do and we are never without hope that better is on its way.  My prayer for all those who are still suffering is that God will bring good out of loss and frustration … maybe by way of a miracle or a stranger or by the power of community.  May this storm bring out the best in those whose hope is in the Lord.  Amen.   

  

Wiggle Room

Reflections on  Matthew 16:13-23, 1 Corinthians 13:12 and Isaiah 43:19

I use to pride myself on being a light and efficient packer. I was meticulous about folding and organizing, so as to maximize what could be packed in a small amount of space. I could afford to spend time on folding and arranging, because I didn’t have children, or pets, or other obligations for whom I had to pack. At that time, I packed in a traditional suitcase with sturdy sides and a molded, slightly curved top. There was little to no wiggle room, a finite amount of space for all my essentials and that is how I liked it. I would not have preferred a soft-sided duffel over the solid framework of a suitcase. My belongings felt protected in my suitcase … protected from the outside elements, from careless airline employees, from the wind and the rain of the tarmac. Protected also from damage within, from wrinkles and disorganization. You can’t protect your clothing from wrinkles in a duffel bag. Neatness and organization are virtually impossible ... too much wiggle room.

Image: geishaboy50

Life is a lot like packing. We want everything to fit neatly in rectangular boxes, in a finite space that feels secure and safe.  Whether we are packing clothing or organizing our thoughts on life and faith, most of us prefer solid boundaries … toiletries, undergarments, shirts, pants … black and white, right and wrong, good and evil. Life is just easier that way. There is safety and certainty in solid boundaries and who doesn’t long for that?

“But who do you say that I am?”

Peter was certain of his answer when Jesus pulled the disciples aside and asked them that question. Without hesitation he proclaimed, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”  And he was right. Jesus said that that insight came straight from God. That's a suitcase you want to pack your faith in, solid, clear boundaries, no wiggle room, or so Peter thought. In Peter’s mind, he knew exactly what was packed within the framework of “messiah.” He was certain of what that title meant and where it would take Jesus and those who followed him. So when Jesus started going on and on about going to Jerusalem where he would suffer and die and on the third day be raised, Peter rebuked him. Peter REBUKED Jesus. There was no room in Peter’s messianic luggage for the suffering and death of the messiah. That did not fit within the clear boundaries of his hard-sided suitcase.

“ … you are setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things.”

Peter went from hero to zero in a matter of several verses and Jesus called him on it. He said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan!” (I hope never to hear that from Jesus, but who knows.) It seems that Peter, while receiving one truth from God, took that truth and imposed his own solid and safe boundaries around it, leaving no wiggle room for God to work, no room for mystery or surprise, no room for things to get a little messy. And that is a very human thing to do, imposing safety and certainly where none is provided.

"For now we see in a mirror dimly ..."

Today we live in a world that has been created out of the fear and uncertainty that was born from the events of 9/11 and resulted in a world at war against terrorism abroad and at home, as well as a huge economic meltdown right in our own backyard. We don’t feel safe and little seems certain. In such a world how do human beings tend to respond? We respond by shoring up our boundaries, not just our geographical ones, but intellectual ones, pulling tight our framework, boxing in our thoughts, creating certainty were there is none. We draw lines between right and wrong and us and them. We create a false sense of certainty, a false sense of security with opinions that we have packaged as truth. It doesn’t really matter if you fall on the right or the left, both sides are so sure they are right (that they are correct) that they can’t hear each other. So tight are our boundaries that there is no wiggle room for conversation, for dialogue, for new possibilities. All that is left is animosity and finger pointing. 

This is not a new phenomenon and it isn’t just political. It is what we humans do when fear and uncertainty get the better of us. We are just as likely to impose false boundaries around our faith, as we are our politics. Why does God allow bad things to happen? Why another flood, an earthquake, continued economic hardship, why? It must be God’s judgment on what we are doing or allowing. God is trying to get our attention. We need a reason that will make our circumstances make sense. We need a box to store what we see happening around us, so that it will seems less scary and we will feel, in some small way, empowered to do something about it or at the very least to explain it. Out of fear, Christians are digging in their heals on marriage and issues of sexuality, on the person of Jesus Christ and the authority of scripture. The same way Christians of the past had dug in their heels around slavery and the role of women, on issues of the person of Jesus Christ and the authority of scripture (some debates are timeless).

We have always longed for safety and certainty. And it has always been true that faith, just like life, is neither safe nor certain.

Faith is the opposite of fear. Fear draws boundaries and refuses conversation. Faith has soft-sides and wiggle room which fosters dialogue. Fear closes us off. Faith opens us up. Fear manufactures answers when none are given. Faith learns to operate in the midst of ambiguity and mystery. Faith takes risks.  Fear takes none. Faith says, “yes” to God, without inflicting our will on God. Faith holds what God has given us in a duffel bag, not a hard-shell case.

"I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth.  Do you not perceive it?"

With reluctance, I have traded in my sturdy, plastic suitcase with the rounded top, for a discounted, canvas duffel bag with someone else’s initials on it.  I am cautiously risking uncertainly and surprise and even a little wardrobe chaos. I am learning to leave a little wiggle room for God to work.