Renewing of the Mind

We spent the evening out on the water tonight.  This is our third trip around the area with our new boats - actually loaner boats while we wait for the new ones to come in.  There is something transforming about spending time in silence gliding over the water's surface, meeting and surprising birds, experiencing the water from another perspective.  The view from on the lake is much different, giving us the opportunity to see things normally hidden, expanding our understanding of the natural world.

In Sunday's sermon, the pastor defined miracles as something that happens outside of our reality.  They are defined, he said, by some external action that suspends the natural physical laws of the universe.  I would add that there are other laws that we don't normally include, things we often don't see from our limit shoreline perspective.  These expanded laws of nature extend into other spiritual realm, beyond into our imagination and capacity to see deeper.  They are like elements in the last row of the periodic table that keep getting added to as more discoveries are made, suggesting endless expansion if we only look.
The weakness of that analogy is that the process of scientific discovery will not uncover all of the laws at work that impact our lives.  Spiritual laws are beyond the scientific method of empirical analysis.  But they are there.  There is a border area, where the physical and the spiritual intersect and overlap.  It is discovered by internal processes, but also has roots in the physical world.  This is what I look for when out hiking or kayaking.  Others have called these "thin places", where the separation of heaven from earth is very thin and God's presence and glory can be experienced.  It's popularly known as a Celtic idea, mistaken for paganism often, but experiencing God defies those kinds of limited human definitions.
So we kayak, looking for the Presence that will restore us and transform us by the renewing of our minds.
This weekend we went to Park Lake, a small lake near East Lansing.  It sits right next to I-69 on its northern shore, only separated from the highway by a row of trees and the road that rims the lake.  The boat launch is on the northern edge, and once out into the lake, it is mostly shallow near the edges.  The lily pads have pushed buds up out of the water, promising more beauty to come.  The lake bottom is visible in these areas, covered with weeds.  There is the usual collection of cottagy-houses and expensive new houses, crammed on small parcels of land, all extending their hands toward the water.  On the south side of the lake, further away, there is an entirely different area.  Away from the sounds of humanity's strife provided by the highway, there is a marshy grassland area full of birds.  As we neared this area, the sounds of the birds took over, and extended peace and solitude our way.  A pair of sandhill cranes stood on a small tuft of land, and as I got closer to these huge birds, I noticed their fuzzy chick between them.  He was already a good foot tall.  Thinking that I didn't want my eyes peck out by upset parents, I quickly turned the boat and paddled away.  The birds barely regarded me, noted my presence, but did not especially care that I was there.  Hovering silently over the surface of the water in the boat allows for easier integration into the peaceful surroundings.
This was a refuge after a busy, hectic day with family - a beautiful retreat into peace.  "Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God."  Romans 12:2  Today, as always, God wills peace for our souls, and tonight we paddled out to meet it.

Baptism and the Triumphal Entry: Palm Sunday 2014

The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.  Genesis 1:2

This week was Palm Sunday, celebrating Christ entering Jerusalem for Holy week.  As a bonus, there were also three baptisms in the church we attended.  There is something about the sacraments on display that resonate with me, a certain energy that is present when the eternal touches the ordinary.  The sacraments of the Church are the visible signs of the unseen graces.  Of all the sacraments, baptism is my favorite, for reasons many of you will know.

This Sunday, since we have been visiting new churches in our area, I wasn't expecting the baptisms and was completely unarmed with no tissues.  This church is a new start-up congregation inhabiting what was once a Baptist sanctuary, and they were able to do the full submersion in all of its glory.  On ordinary Sundays, the dunk tank isn't visible, being partially covered by a curtain.  Today the curtain was off, revealing a low glass wall that allowed view into the first twelve inches or so of the water.  The interface between the water in the tank and the air above was a thin straight line. 

After the worship and the sermon, attention turned to the main event.  One by one, the associate pastor entered the tank with the souls-in-waiting, waiting for their turn to be marked by the Holy Spirit.  As they entered, the line on the glass marking the boundary between the water and air danced with waves.  Each bapitizee was given a moment to share their testimony; moving stories of rebellion, obedience, and gratitude; all stories of tearful grace.  The first was a Sunday school teacher; her kindergarten class seated the front pew as she renewed the baptismal vows made by her parents when she was an infant.  As the pastor pronounced her baptized in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit; he leaned her backwards into the water.  Under the water only briefly, that moment of symbolic death quickly gave way to the resurfacing explosion into life.  The congregation joined and erupted in cheers.

The second young man gave a recounting of his rebellion and the love of a step father that brought him back into the family of God.  Again, the line played on the glass, emphasizing what is between the two worlds of water and air.  This time I saw something different.  The Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters, like a buoyant oil floating just above.  As the pastor brought the young man back out of the water, the Spirit clung to him all over.  Again, the explosion from death into life.  Again, the explosion of cheers and worship from the congregation. 

And at the third baptism, the Spirit now visible and hovering, a woman came into the tank with her husband who tenderly and tearfully performed her baptism.  As the Spirit is present at these gatherings, it is usually an energy that ramps up, and was so in this case.  There was no response possible except for shouts of joy and tears that came on their own accord. 

The sermon that morning had been about the triumphal entry of Christ into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.  Since the crowds did not understand His purpose they heralded Him as King of the Jews, anticipating a military coup to throw off the Romans.  Instead of taking in their misunderstanding cheers that would shortly yield to cries for crucifixion, Jesus sat on the back of the donkey, viewed the city and wept with deep compassion for what was to come for Jerusalem. 

In our small world, in our small corner of the Church, we cheered for the triumphal entry of the Spirit into the lives of three people -lives that are now eternally sealed and marked for God.  The tears were in response to the very nearness of the Spirit, through the words of the testimonies, the loving actions of those performing the baptisms, and the crackling energy of the Spirit filling the room.   In these moments, the sacraments that are the visible signs of the unseen graces provide a view into things eternal - the truth found in the ineffable mysteries.  A brush with the eternal, a triumphal entry.