A Pittsburgh Story

Several weeks ago, our city was saddened by the tragic death of five little children who perished as their house burned to the ground. Their eight-year-old sibling brothers escaped alive but were unable to rescue their little brothers and sisters. The mothers admitted to leaving the children in the care of the eight-year-old boys while they went out for a drink.

Five little promises, snuffed out in a moment. Five little caskets, lowered into the ground. Five precious angels, committed into the arms of Jesus.

I'm not sure why but this story has gripped my heart, perhaps because our family lost our home to fire when I was twelve. Daily it seems, another story from another angle appears in the local paper. Some would say "let it go." I for one am glad people are still thinking about this.

Last week I looked into the faces of those young mothers who will forever bear the consequence of their actions, and wondered, will anyone show them any mercy? Isn't our God the God of justice AND mercy? I was heartened to read this article where at least one other person voiced his same concerns. It's so easy to mete out mental judgment on these women. Yet what if it were one of our relatives? The unthinkable can happen to any of us, something author and speaker Carol Kent came face to face with when her son stood trial and was sentenced for murder.

And then today, I was encouraged again to read this article by a local pastor who is looking beyond the sadness of this tragedy to the heart of the problem. He speaks to our naivete. How could this happen, we ask. A quick search on the web lead me to a newsletter about the ministries of this church, and it was clear he is not merely asking a rhetorical question but rather one he seeks to help answer within his own community.

I was left with the recognition that I am among the naive. But I don't have to be. All I need to do is open my eyes and look around me. And then ask God what he would have me do.

Poor in Spirit

This summer I'm participating in a Bible study on the Beatitudes. Although I memorized this passage as a child, I'll confess - I haven't given it much thought over the years.

Last week we focused on Matthew 5:3: Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Someone suggested that to be poor in spirit is to be radically dependent upon God. I haven't been able to get that out of my mind this week - I love that picture.

What does it look like to be radically dependent upon God, I wonder? The Message puts it this way: You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you, there is more of God and his rule.

What keeps me from being radically dependent upon God? Perhaps a better question would be "what else am I depending on, instead of God?" Things like the approval of others and my own intuition came to mind. So the next question I must ask is "why do I have to wait until circumstances drive me to the end of my rope?" These things I'm depending on - what would it be like to just let go of them now? What's keeping me from doing so?

Radically dependent upon God. That's where I want to be.

Space

Lately this idea of space has been on my mind. No, not outer space. Inner space. Space for God and others. I'd totally forgotten where I first read about this idea of space, but was reminded earlier this week, in a post on another blog, while I was still kicking this one around in my mind.

In Sacred Companions, David Benner calls this making space for others the gift of hospitality. ". . . soul friends show hospitality by making space in their lives for others. Making space in my life is more demanding than giving advice, money or some other form of help. But the essence of hospitality is taking another person into my space, into my life."

I know I struggle with this and yet I understand it's part of this idea of community that God wants me to live in. Benner goes on to suggest why making space for others can be challenging: if we don't cultivate a place of quiet in ourselves, we have no place where we can invite others. If we don't know ourselves, in the way God knows us, how can we invite others to know us? And if we haven't made a place for God's spirit to work in my life, we have nothing to offer others anyways.

The beautiful thing about this gift of hospitality that we give and receive is that it first comes to us from God. God welcomes us with open arms into his space . . . his family, bestowing on us a sense of true belonging, and all the riches of his glory. How can we do any less but to invite others, as God leads, into our space?