Sleep on This: Mirage (May 13)
Good evening, friend!
Cyndi and I slipped over to the coast for Mother’s Day weekend. It’s still great—but weird—that we can worship with all of you virtually. Even weirder when I raise my hands to receive the benediction—from myself! (BTW, if you missed our Mother’s Day services, I’d urge you to check it out. My message was one of the most important ones I’ve shared regarding parenting. And I think you’ll laugh! A twofer!)
A high point of our weekend was that Cyndi encouraged Cooper and me to play golf. On Mother’s Day! What a woman! Of course, there were all kinds of extra rules. Only two people per group, only house-mates in the same cart, don’t touch the flagstick. They even had little chunks of a pool noodle (you know, the polyethylene foam snake) stuck in the hole so that the ball wouldn’t drop. (Of course, as bad a putter as I am, those holes never have much to fear from me!)
Homes on this course take their golf décor very seriously. Some back yards even sport life-sized, realistic-looking golf carvings. I mention this because on one hole, as I approached the green, I noticed a guy in a back yard, leaning on his putter and watching me. So I waved—and called out to him. I was a little miffed that he didn’t respond. “How rude,” I thought. Until, of course, I got close enough to see that I’d been waving to a wooden statue. I literally looked around, hoping that no other home owner had caught me making a fool of myself.
When I later mentioned it to Cyndi, she said, “Hmm…maybe you are so eager for community that your eyes are playing tricks on you!” Maybe. It reminds me of the time Jesus touched a blind man’s eyes with his spittle and asked if he could see anything. “I see people, but they look like trees, walking.” Well, I saw trees, but it looked like people, walking!
That’s okay. Jesus touched the man a second time and finished the healing. I remain hopeful that these early moments of restored community are a prelude to the day when we will all be together. Meantime, keep your eyes open! You don’t want to make a fool of yourself.
Lord, as I lay me down to sleep, I admit that I’m ready for community. And I’m looking for any sign that normality will be restored. Bless me with those glimpses of hope and grant me the patience I need to await our return to the sweetness of unfettered human relationship. Amen.