Uncovering Joy – The Face of What Will Come
“A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins. The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder's den. They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.” (Isaiah 11:1-9)
When we gather as a congregation to celebrate and take part in the baptism of an infant or a young child, the faces of the congregation tends to brighten. Everyone in the room knows what will take place. Soon, the infant’s head will be gently supported as the baby is held over the large, ceramic bowl. Soon the baptized who stand around the font watching will hear the water being poured over the baby’s head and splashing back into the bowl. Soon the words that shape the water and the moment will envelope the whole gathering. Soon the fullness of our God - the Trinitarian language that reminds us of the fullness of God’s eagerness to be with us and for us - will be answered with the Amen of the congregation. Soon there will be wailing or simple fascination or wild squirming. Soon there will be oil and a cross traced on the child‟s forehead. Soon the baptismal candle will be handed to the sponsors or parents. Soon a bit of salt will tickle the lips of the baptized. Soon and very soon, the reality of our world will touch the wonder of this blessed moment in time.
When it comes to the children of our congregation, it doesn’t take much to move me. It doesn’t take much to bring a smile that pulls at my lips and cheeks. It doesn’t take much to remind me how to be foolish and free. It doesn’t take much for me to let loose with a roaring bit of laughter. I am always convinced that nothing can go wrong when we bring a sister or brother into the baptized community. I have skipped the Prayers of the Congregation as I was caught up in the thrill and water of the moment. I have stumbled over a name. I have forgotten to address sponsors. I have stumbled over the prayer over the water in that grand storytelling of God’s work in, with, and under the waters of history. And yet, the story of our life within God’s Reign presses on.
In the middle of all this action at the font there are two parts of this rite that will often overwhelm me. When we turn to the parents and remind them of their responsibilities, I realize that we have no control over what will happen next. We must take the parents at their word. We must know the importance of letting go. We must also remember that the whole community is now responsible to the newly baptized and these parents. They will be the future of what we hold so dearly in the present. We are insisting that everyone take part in the shaping of the future that is in front of us as this babe. This kind of promise is made even when the toddler about to be baptized is so engaged by what is happening and so ready to go running about the nave that she steps her foot into the font and then finding that it brings a chuckle from the people in the pew – does it again...just to make her presence know. Oh my...what will the future be – sheer joy, I bet.
Then again, we also pray over our children. We pray for God’s Spirit to come – just as promised. It is a prayer for wisdom and understanding, counsel and might, knowledge and the fear of the Lord. It is a prayer with such potential we may not want it to be fulfilled. It is a calling forth of the promises of God upon God’s people. It is general and it is specific. Do we understand what we are calling forth upon this child? The face of innocence looks at me or looks around or writhes about wondering what is happening. Well, our beloved, you are being handed over to death and new life.
Within the cascading movement of the day, when life seems to move by more quickly than we would like, it is easy to miss that which can ignite our hearts with hopefulness. That does not mean they are not there bidding us good day. After a long day of what seemed to be busy work that leaves me unfulfilled and wondering what it is that I bring to the world, I was riding my scooter through the neighborhood. All I wanted for now was to sit and have a glass of wine and let the day come to its end. I try to be very aware of my surroundings when I’m on the scooter. People in cars don’t often pay attention to motor bikes and every intersection can carry a bit of danger. Glancing to the left to check out the roadway a few blocks from home, I noticed a family of three coming toward me. The girl was riding a small bike with training wheels, the boy was pushing along on a traditional scooter, and the father was walking right behind them. I was ready for wine and home. And then, as I drew closer, the boy stopped his movement and pointed at me, smiled, and seemed quite enthralled with the scooter.
Joy breaks into small moments...moments that can pass by without notice...moments that often receive nothing more than a nod or a minor gesture. But that boy...that boy was thrilled at what he was seeing. The joy that he triggered was a bright sky. He introduced me to an opening into the joy that surrounds us all when life in all of its simplicity touches us. I slowed my scooter, pulled back my visor, pointed at him, and as I passed by said, “Wow, what a neat scooter.” I don't know who was more empowered by that moment...I didn’t know which scooter rider was more playfully joyous. It was enough. It was enough to turn the end of the day into a reminder of how we are always being guided into the beginning of the joy of God’s Reign.
I must have been having a couple of difficult days because the very next day in the cool of the evening I turned onto our street with only a hundred feet before scooting up our driveway and calling it a day. Again, a family of three interrupted the last moments of my ride. Facing oncoming traffic, the mother was walking at the curb, the father was walking closest to the traffic, and their little girl with helmet secure and training wheels allowing just enough of a wiggle to keep her from tumbling was between them. Moments before I was to pass by, there came a tinkling sound. In the middle of her pedal pushing and under the guide of her parents, she was ringing her bicycle bell to grab my attention. O my, little girl...you are like a bright sun to me...you ring with joy...you smile and I am healed. How do you ride past such joy being announced even though you are not ready for joyous ringing? Again, visor went up, the gas was released, and I could only sing out to her about the beauty of her bell and add a simple “thank you.”
At the end of the driveway as I dismounted the scooter that evening and before I entered my routine of opening the garage door and pushing the scooter into place, I paused and the smile that broke across my face as I passed by that child became a wonder-filled moment of joy wrapped in a few tears and a passing fresh pulse of life. Good grief, is this stuff – this joy – always present within the mix of down days and rigid routines? I think it is - a stream of life that is continuously washing over us. Joy doesn’t always wait to be uncovered - it simply gushes.
God is constantly pulling back the veil that appears to cover the joy of life even as we drive by on our way to shape the world as we want it. It is not magic. It is not miraculous in the sense that God is right now intervening out there on the street. Rather it is that our God continues to invite us into God’s Reign even as we walk by or drive by or attempt to make our plans rule our lives. We need only open our eyes and ears and give thanks – again and again.
Contemplation is a living adventure that is the life of the day at hand. When what we see and hear becomes, at that moment, the profound experience of the meaning of life within God's Reign – joy uncovered – there is no more profound contemplation. We are instantly brought within the grand tent where promise and hopefulness and refreshment will abound.
On another scooter ride in the neighborhood, I noticed that the parking lot at church was unusually crowded. Not only were both of the church's basketball courts full; there were others standing alongside the courts waiting to play. In addition, folks were standing and sitting on and around the parked cars. I was there with my camera so that I could catch some action shots of the players before I had to close the courts for the night. I was darting between the games and completely absorbed in the images I was catching. Now and then I would greet some of the people who were watching the games and simply enjoying a night out.
I must admit, these courts can become burdensome as I am put in the position of bringing the activity on the courts to an end each night. That burden was beginning to press in on me even as I was interacting with the players and showing them some of the photos I had taken of their action and play. It is wonderful to see the joy in the player’s eyes when they see themselves on film. A still picture of a shot taken or a move made can bring out a smile from the face of someone who usually doesn’t let that show.
All of a sudden at my side was a boy about six years old. He had his shirt off and wanted to make sure that I took a picture of him. He didn’t need it to be an action shot. He simply wanted me to turn the camera to him and shoot. I did. I then showed him the picture and it was as though the sun was shining down on this precious stone. His smile stretched across to his ears and his eyes filled the rest of his face. I stepped back to take another picture. He leaned against the blue plastic recycling can and let the smile stream.
We are one people caught up in this constant stream of joy that will not stop or be diverted to another place. It burst into the day right now as we sit in the middle of other things and our agendas and our fears. That smile not only remains in my camera and on the computer, it is here as I write so that I can bring it to mind and smile onto what is about to come.
The faces of our children shall lead us. They have the power to uncover the hopefulness of the Reign of God, deliver us into that which we cannot anticipate, walk us through that which may be bringing us down, and offer us joy as we see the image of God sparkling in unknown faces. Most of all, these faces of infants and children present us with a promise that need not wait until we have time to consider it. Available in the next passing glance is a reminder of whose we are and how we are a people called to engage the world as though God is utterly apparent and present.
TRRR
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