Author: vapiper

George, now a 24 y/o young man with Down syndrome, still loves Veggie Tales. However, he’s quite discriminating when it comes to format. For some reason unknown to me or for that matter anyone else, he prefers and insists that they be VHS. Beyond that, the color of the tape must be black-not that nice lime green hue. The release date especially matters and the label on the tape is quite important. I have had to scour thrift stores and eBay for VHS movies that meet all of these requirements.

Multiple questions about this list of essentials for a simple movie run through my mind-especially the label! Why on earth does a label on a movie case make so much difference?! In George’s mind that label conveys what is included in that movie. The label tells the story. If the label is different it isn’t going to tell the same story. Try as I may to convince him that a release date of 2000 on a particular title is the same movie as the one that is released in 1998 are wasted words. My attempt at an explanation falls on deaf ears. If the label is a different color or shape, the movie is not the same. That label matters.

Evaluating George’s list of needs more closely I use it as a lens to view my life. My “release” date is almost 69 years ago now. I have countless experiences that have given me labels and tell my story. Mother, divorcee, wife, daughter, sister, fat, stupid, not enough, etc. I have laughed and cried, been married and divorced, birthed babies and buried parents. The list and labels go on and on. 

Far too long I allowed some of those labels to bring shame and feelings of isolation and rejection. Some of those labels defined who I was driving me to make the decisions I made, crafting a fractured story. It wasn’t until I met Jesus (and was “re-released”) that my labels or names changed and along with that, my story. A story full of hope and purpose. Being forgiven and chosen changes ones perspective-completely rewriting a story.

It turns out that George’s insistence on a particular label is indeed important and does change the story.

Contact tracing is a term we all now associate with the COVID-19 infection. It’s a strategy used by the medical community to show the spread of the virus from an infected person to others and then from those who have been exposed and infected on to others. It has the potential to be endless. In the past year we’ve  seen this phenomenon go through a population impacting not only communities, but States, countries, and then the entire world. Once it reaches mammoth proportions and infects literally thousands of people the illness is referred to as a pandemic. 

Looking through a spiritual lens using the same contact tracing concept, how many of us would be able to trace Jesus through the encounters we make? The current situation we are in doesn’t change the mission we are on. Our mission is to work within our circumstances and share Jesus with others. We are not called to practice a la carte Christianity allowing ourselves the option to pick and choose certain aspects of the Gospel eliminating those facets that are not convenient due to the current state of affairs. 

When Jesus walked among us his circumstances included a life spent under the tyranny of Roman rule. Every street corner boasted multiple shops peddling idols for every kind of god the people chose to worship. Disease, filth, and poverty surrounded Him. His purpose and mission wasn’t halted because of circumstances He lived in. On the contrary, the circumstances were perfect for Him to bring the hope we so desperately need. We must look at our own lives and ask ourselves if we have used this time in history, our circumstances, to benefit the Kingdom? Or, have we used this time of lockdown and quarantine as a welcome excuse to shelve our Bibles and cease praying? Have we become circumstantially complacent? If we wait until the perfect time to accomplish something great for God then we will miss our chance to spread the Gospel. We have always lived in an imperfect world and always will. Jesus’ story is so remarkable not only because he brought our redemption but because He accomplished so much in a world just like ours-terribly fractured and broken.

Reading through the scriptures we can trace Jesus through the encounters He made. His encounters changed lives. Picture the encounter in John 20, when at the tomb, Jesus made Himself known to Mary Magdalene. He instructed her to “Go and tell”. Mary’s life had been forever changed because Jesus had taken the time to reveal Himself and speak to her. From the mouths of the twelve disciples to Roman citizens and beyond the borders of Israel, their contacts and encounters exponentially multiplied leading to millions of others down through the ages to you and I. Much like how the corona virus spreads, each encounter in turn takes the hope of the Gospel to others where we can reach pandemic proportions for Christ.  

What does your contact tracing show you? How many encounters for Christ have you made? Have you intentionally reached out to those the church has perhaps ignored or forgotten?

Consider the impact we could make if we would intentionally spread the Gospel as this virus has spread. 

Sitting in front of me on my desk in my home office is a small form of a woman carrying a water jar on her head. It was meticulously carved out of olive wood by a man in Bethlehem. When visiting the Holy Land in 2018 I was fortunate to have had the opportunity to visit a small shop staffed by people with disabilities who spend their days creating beautiful sculptures out of their native olive trees. The love and care given to these figures can be seen etched in the details of their work. When my eyes fell on this woman sitting on the shelf among other carvings, I knew it was she who would be accompanying me on my journey home. When I looked at her, she was symbolic of the famous woman at the well in John 4 who first met Jesus and experienced her redemption. Plagued by those who had negatively defined her, this woman was living out what others had pronounced over her life. Believing to hold less value she treated herself the same. She couldn’t see through the consequences of her decisions to anything that could possibly be good or right. She was caught in the trappings of her past. She carried it with her burdened by its weight similar to the heavy jar of water on her head. Viewing her life through the lens of rejection, she traveled hurt and alone in the hottest part of the day to draw the lifegiving substance. Little did she know that this day would be different. This day, she would meet her Redeemer. This day, she would experience freedom.

All of us carry a heavy jar of past decisions and negative consequences. None of us are immune to scars and cracks in our character. Often out of frustration we make emotional decisions to satisfy fleshly desires and vehemently fight the urgings and promptings of the Spirit. Still ignoring that small Voice, we search for meaning, clarification, or purpose from a world that is tossed about like a small vessel on an angry sea. A world that holds no inherent truth. A world that offers no real stability. We crave acceptance and acknowledgement from others to substantiate or gain some semblance of self-worth. In all of our work of searching and agonizing we can easily miss the simple, yet profoundly impactful freedom that Jesus offers.

We are not told the woman’s name, but she is all of us. Surprised when spoken to by a man, taken aback since He is Jewish. Her preconceived notions of what He too must think of her possibly cloud her mind stirring up feelings of trepidation and shame. Perhaps even leading to a desire to be invisible and unseen. However, Jesus’ acknowledgement and words force her to face and admit her reality. She looks within and confirms her story. Jesus is not put off. He neither shies away from her raw humanity or hurls much anticipated insults. His compassion senses her deep longing for significance and a sense of value. He invites her to Himself as the well from which to draw her worth.

Leaving that place the woman ran to tell others of this day and this Man who had forever changed her story by changing the lens through which she looked to view herself.

I’m drawn to shabby chic furniture. I believe its beauty is found in the imperfections. The weathered look and chipped paint, the edges worn by time and use, the cracks perhaps resulting from rough handling or even misuse. Each aspect of the piece represents a different time in its life culminating into the statement it makes as a whole. Its story, as it were.

People are much like shabby chic furniture. Over time we have experienced use or misuse, perhaps abuse, and brokenness. Our chipped paint and weathered look is seen in our tired eyes. We at times doubt our purpose. We hate our bruised parts. We see ugliness and at times feel worthless. 

Yet, it is through those very imperfections that God’s glory can be seen. It is the imperfections that He can use to minister to others. Imperfections can be the conduit. The channel to deliver God’s love.

There are some whose imperfections are more visible than others. Often their purpose or worth is questioned by those who don’t choose to look closely enough to see the beauty.  

My son was born with Down syndrome. His imperfections and brokenness is evident. He however has reached those for the Gospel that others could not. He’s not afraid to be used by God. His favorite part of any church service is following the message when our pastor invites people to the alter to pray. George is usually the first up kneeling with his head bowed in deep meditation. As others make the trip down the aisle and drop to their knees, George slides over next to them, puts his arms around them to pray and offer comfort. After they are finished, he helps them to their feet and gives them a hug. Not just a slight quick squeeze. A long embrace sending the message that he cares and that they are loved and valued. It is as if George is offering to help shoulder their burden. George has a deep sense of compassion and a way to make people feel better about themselves after being around him. In essence, he shares himself and extends love. Isn’t that what Jesus does?

George’s prayer life is humbling. One evening working quietly in my bedroom folding laundry, I could hear him in the living room speaking in low tones. He often speaks to others no one else can see. It is one of his coping strategies. But this night was different. He wasn’t arguing or consoling or being comforted by the other person. It was when I strained to hear what he was saying that I realized he was praying. I peeked around the corner quietly so as not to disturb. I saw him sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, eyes closed, hands moving in deliberate motions to emphasize a point. He was intent in his prayer. Tears filled my eyes as I witnessed this scene. The God of the universe who created everything from the tiniest creature to towering trees and complex galaxies is the same gracious God who made George. My son, who has an intellectual disability, who has a developmental delay, who reads on a second-grade level and writes as a kindergartner. God knew that George would be able to reach those who cannot be reached by others. Those whose fallow, broken hearts need to be cultivated and nurtured by an unexpected, compassionate and perceptive messenger from God. It is those for whom George prayed.

God uses George’s imperfections to reach others whose own brokenness seems too great to receive forgiveness and redemption.

It was a day when winter was trying to be pushed out by the warmer weather of an early Spring. We had arrived at church in time to get settled in our usual seats. The music of praise and worship swelled, boasting voices singing to an audience of One. Each carrying parts of their wounded or joyous hearts to present to God as a sacrifice of praise. Sitting in church surrounded by those whom God has sent to this body, all of a sudden, tears welled up in my eyes and spilled onto my blouse. I was overwhelmed with the goodness of God and the miraculous work he was doing at Christ First Church which had started years before prior to its even being planted.  

My church caters to those whom other churches time and again have shown they don’t want or can’t take the time to minister to. Perhaps they don’t look far enough into the community to recognize the need even being there. It’s easy to miss or ignore the people on the fringes. Their voices have been silenced by our idea of what acceptable humanity looks like. Often, these are viewed as the throw-aways. The weak. The unlovely. Those who can be difficult to love. Those who bring odd noises and obsessive movements. Those whose dress is unexpected or messy. Those who may bring an unpleasant odor. Those who may not understand “proper etiquette” at church. Those who talk loudly or who rock back and forth for seemingly no reason. Sometimes their brokenness is difficult to face. What we fail to want to admit is that we are all broken, theirs is just more visible. 

Sitting among the pews is my son. He has Down syndrome. Others have autism. There are some with sensory issues who struggle to participate. Some have difficulty focusing. Still others have seizure disorders. Some are in wheelchairs. There are others who are challenged with mental health issues.  

It is these voices that are raised in song. It is these souls that are embraced and loved well. It is these who worship together sprinkled among the whole congregation.  

Belonging. 

It was an ordinary Sunday.

It’s graduation season. Except this year looks a bit different than season’s past. Even so, my son was very excited to try on his cap and gown after we made our way through the school car line to pick it up having to adhere to social distancing recommendations. Both of us have worked hard to make this happen. I have advocated tirelessly for services and supports for his success. It’s difficult to tell how much George understands the consequences of graduating from high school. I’m sure he senses a change. I proudly posted this picture on Facebook and I was struck by a comment that was made. A friend stated that the cap and gown “fit him well”. I thought about that comment rolling it over in my mind for several days considering all aspects and perspectives of it. Physically the cap and gown absolutely fit him well. But, beyond the outward appearance, beneath the fabric, and below the cap is where the true fit can be found. George was molded and fitted for Christ long before his birth. He was created with and for a purpose. Down syndrome didn’t change that. 

A quote by J.C. Ryle brings to mind the extent of what clothing can truly represent. “Never is a man….rightly clothed till he puts on the Lord Jesus Christ”. Romans 13:14 states to “clothe yourself with the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ.” While caps and gowns represent the completion of 12 years of schoolwork and preparation for the future, “having on” the Lord Jesus Christ carries with it much further reaching ramifications extending to eternity. For George, graduation can be seen as a steppingstone on his ongoing gospel-sharing journey. 

None of us can predict how God will use us to impact others. George’s path has guided him to surprising places and offered unanticipated opportunities. He’s carried Jesus to AA meetings where he had been invited to offer a closing prayer. A prayer that influenced many men on their journey of recovery. Being clothed in Christ eliminates judgement. It’s filtered out leaving acceptance and love. 

Watching George walk across the stage in his cap and gown will most certainly bring a sense of pride to me. But knowing that he is clothed in Christ fills me with a sense of awe. 

It fits him well

These shoes have been worn well. They wrap around a pair of feet that have danced until steps could no longer be taken due to exhaustion. They’ve walked halls of schools and run to unknown places going exploring. They’ve jumped to the beat of music or to sink the ball in the basket for an impressive three pointer. These shoes are on feet that doctors predicted would be clumsy and slow. Feet belonging to a young man with Down syndrome for whom doctors and some teachers had low expectations. Indeed these feet were slower to learn to walk but they walked right on time for the race that this young man is running. 

What doctors failed to share about these feet was that they would walk to the alter in response to another’s pain and need for compassion and forgiveness. Or that they would intentionally walk across rooms to acknowledge others who struggle with mobility. Or that they would carry this young man to pulpits to pray. These feet have carried the gospel to those who feel unworthy or too far gone to be loved. 

Isaiah 52:7 tells us, “How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, Who proclaims peace, Who brings glad tidings of good things, Who proclaims salvation, Who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns’.”

Perhaps the feet who bring good news are not as you imagined. It is sad to miss the treasure inside because we ignore the package it comes in. The outside may appear disheveled or unkempt wearing mismatched clothing. The words we hear may be garbled or shared with a stutter. Perhaps we don’t give merit to the message because it is comprised of short, hesitantly spoken words or even communicated with gestures. Does the message hold less value because of the way in which it is delivered?

Jesus taught and lived inclusion. Accessibility is organic to the gospel message. To overlook or intentionally exclude those with disabilities from the church undermines foundational gospel truths.

I Corinthians 12:12-20 “12 There is one body, but it has many parts. But all its many parts make up one body. It is the same with Christ. 13 We were all baptized by one Holy Spirit. And so we are formed into one body. It didn’t matter whether we were Jews or Gentiles, slaves or free people. We were all given the same Spirit to drink. 14 So the body is not made up of just one part. It has many parts.15 Suppose the foot says, “I am not a hand. So I don’t belong to the body.” By saying this, it cannot stop being part of the body. 16 And suppose the ear says, “I am not an eye. So I don’t belong to the body.” By saying this, it cannot stop being part of the body. 17 If the whole body were an eye, how could it hear? If the whole body were an ear, how could it smell? 18 God has placed each part in the body just as he wanted it to be. 19 If all the parts were the same, how could there be a body? 20 As it is, there are many parts. But there is only one body.”

Demonstrating the profound beauty of the gospel can sometimes be seen from those we least expect wearing shoes that have been worn well as God’s instruments carrying the joy and hope of Jesus.