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I’ve just finished reading “The Radiance of the King“, a book I discovered on accident at a Salvation Army in Hillsboro, IL.  It’s an African literature classic, written originally in French in 1954 by Camara Laye.  It’s a great book on many levels…but for me, it hit strongly on two in particular.

First – the levels of mystery and difference it reveals that exist between ancient African cultures and my own.  The confused main character, who has been shipwrecked and finds himself navigating alone through unknown lands.  At first he’s demaning an audience with the King, and that yields to submitting and humbling himself to a journey larger than he’d intended.  Second – probably unintended, but it’s hard to imagine not making a connection here – the levels of connection between this story and our experience of Jesus as King.  The entire book, Clarence desires to come before the King.  He might miss an opportunity, and he may not always have it as his first thought, but it is nevertheless foundational for who he is becoming.

Here’s a sample to make you want to grab a copy….
“Still the king did not turn his eyes away.  And his eyes…In spite of everything, his eyes seemed to be calling…Then, suddently, Clarence went up to him.  He ought to have bumped into the outer wall, but as he approached it the wall melted away, the hut behind him melted away, and he walked on.

He went forward and he had no garment upon his nakedness. But the thought did not enter his head that he ought first of all to have put his (covering) on; the king was looking at him, and nothing, nothing had any more meaning beside that look.  It was so luminous a look, one in which there was so much sweetness that hope, a foolish hope, woke in Clarence’s heart.  Yes, hope now strove with fear within him, and hope was growing stronger than fear.  And though the sense of his impurity seemed to be holding him back, at the same time Clarence was going forward.  He went on with stumbling steps; he stumbled as he trod on the rich carpet; every moment it seemed to him as if his legs or the ground beneat him were going to disappear.   But he kept moving forward, forward all the time, and his legs did not betray him, nor did the ground open up under him.  And that look….That look still did not turn away from him.  “My lord! My lord!” Clarence kept whispering, “Is it true that you are calling me?  Is it true that the odor which is upon me does not offend you and does not make you turn away in horror?”

And because that look still calmly rested upon him, because the call was still going out to him, he was pierced as if by a tongue of fire….”
So what happens to Clarence?  Was this his first meeting with the King?  His last?  How did the King respond?  Note: there may be one or two scenes that may offend readers.  If that happens, simply skip to the next paragraph.  Let me know if you wanna borrow my copy, or check here to order yours!

“Almighty God, unto whom all hearts are open…“

There we stood, at the altar lined with flags from all over the world.  It was a “Missions” weekend at our church.  Certainly, every weekend we worship in the context of joining with the global Church.  But this weekend in particular we hosted a missionary couple, and focused on praying our family across the globe.  This time, more than ever before, we prayed for our “family in Christ”.  It was as if God and the worship pastor conspired to know exactly what would grab onto my hearts’ usually untapped emotion, and stretch it tight.

“..all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid.”

It was a busy weekend.  I was preparing to leave town for a Small Groups conference in Atlanta, and trying to cram as much family time into these days as I could.  I’ll admit, it’s not just for their sake, either.  We did a flash-light pajama party at the park near our house.  We enjoyed a “Missions Breakfast” where my girls made houses out of cardboard trash.  We hiked through the woods, enjoying beautiful fall weather.  I even got to take my wife out on a date for gluten-free baked goods and live music.

“..Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit...”

So I’ll confess, as I moved to the altar that morning – my mind was not centered on Christ.  I was going through the checklist of everything I’d packed for my 18-hour bus ride after church.  I was hoping I’d done enough to prepare my family for my being gone a few days.  I even thought about the NHL lock-out, and how sad it was that I hadn’t watched any hockey yet this season.  But as we moved toward the altar, even though I was simply doing what I know we should be doing…God was waiting for me.

“..that we might perfectly Love you, and worthily magnify Your Holy Name...”

We sang the hymn “I’m Praying For You.”  As we stood there singing, the words I spoke to my daughter hit me even harder than they may have hit her…”We’re praying for your sister.”  The little girl who is in Africa somewhere, waiting for us to come bring her home.  I want to share Jesus with her.  I want to Love Jesus with her.  I want to offer her freedom from burdens, and comfort/peace in Christ.

“..through Christ our Lord.“

But this past week, I’ve thought more about the NHL Lockout than I have the conflict in the DRC.  My mind knows more about the issues between the players and owners of hockey – than it does the Government and Rebels of the country my daughter is currently stranded in.  My eyes began to water (not tears, just allergies…er somethin’), and I held my daughter and put my arm around my wife as we sang together.  As we prayed together.  As I prayed, “Lord, give me more of a burden for things of significance than things of little significance.

Sure, many people depend on the existence and happening of an NHL season.  But not me.  Not my daughters.  Not my family.  You may read this, and think how silly it may sound – but for me it was an important moment of God checking my heart.  What burdens was I carrying that mattered?  What burdens am I carrying that really aren’t burdens at all?  What can I release, so that my arms are free to lift up new prayers?

How is your heart opening to God this week?

Here we go again with another “Five Minute Friday” post!  To learn more about “Five Minute Friday” (FMF), check out the linked image here.  Basically, each week there’s a word given for you to write about.  You start writing, no back-tracking, editing, etc.  At the end of 5 minutes, you stop.  Then you post it, and share in the community of words that were birthed during these 24-ish hours.  It’s cool stuff.
So here’s this week’s response to the word:  Quiet.

There are so many voices.  I love getting up early on purpose, so that I begin the day well – but more than not the day ends up waking me up.  A small voice, politely announcing in one way or another -it’s time to wake up.  Those are the cute moments.

Fast forward to a moment later in the day, when socks feel funny and shoes don’t fit, and the pants are too loose….no, now too tight…dropping to the floor and screaming like she’s trying on hot lava instead of cotton.

And sometimes, all I ask them for, is a moment of quiet.  You – sit on that chair.  You – on the couch.  You – on the other chair.  I exit the room breathing deep, and go give mom a hug – she does this far more than I do.  How does she stay sane? 🙂

I’ve always loved quiet.  I remember growing up going to camps, and leading worship in bands through college.  One of my favorite parts of the week were the mornings when no one else was awake yet.  Getting up at 5 or 6am, to go enjoy a few moments in undisturbed nature.  To witness creation waking to another day, and begin my day giving thanks to God for it all.

I understand why Jesus was often leaving to be in solitude and prayer.  Maybe his disciples sometimes felt like a group of toddlers, all missing the point of what he was up to – and bringing what they thought was most important to him.   Telling him their worries.  Explaining why the garments of the Kingdom he was offering to them didn’t feel like they fit right….

Grr…..5 minutes is up.
Still…I think I like where that went. 🙂