Spit Polish

The phrase “spit polish” contains within it a striking contradiction. On the one hand, there is the sense of extreme perfection and dedication. You would do anything to attain the faultless radiance of a perfect polish, even use your own spit. But that is the stranger part—to get something brilliant and beautiful, you use something base and elemental … something that is not beautiful.

I enjoy a good polish as much as the next girl, but when you’re talking about holy things, I am deeply suspicious of that kind of shine. “Where’s the spit?” I want to ask. Evidence of spit would convince me that there was some cost here, that someone’s very essence went in to creating the illusion of spotless ease. Because for me, those rough edges are a clearer evidence of grace than all the polish in the world.

So when I see the gleam of perfect shine, I look closer, and ever closer, and hope with all my heart to find even the slightest trace of spit remaining somewhere on the surface.

Food

“He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.”
—Psalm 23

A sermon I heard last Sunday made me think differently about this psalm. I always pictured the green pastures and still waters like some kind of idyllic vacation spot for me to retreat to, a place of calm and rest to escape the hectic pace of my days. I would sit in a lawn chair, trail my hand on the cool grass, and stare at the peaceful water. It would restore my soul.

But this Sunday, the pastor said something that changed my mind. “It’s food.” Grass for sheep is not some far-off thing to dream about but never actually get. It’s food. As necessary for survival as oxygen.

So when I find myself swamped with stress, I think again how much I need food. I can’t put off the kind of rest I find in God’s green pastures and still waters anymore than I can put off my next meal. It’s food. And I’m starving.

The Simple Truth of Love

“I wouldn’t give a fig for the simplicity on this side of complexity… but I would give my life for the simplicity on the other side of complexity.”
—Oliver Wendell Holmes

I heard this quote for the first time in church today, and was also privileged to hear words of hope spoken by a woman from China who professed her faith and was baptized. For her, the message of the gospel was beautiful because it was so simple: Love God, love others, love your enemies. As she explained her pull to this faith as a 36-year-old woman and how compelling the story of that love was for her, I was moved to tears, as were many who listened.

I realized today that most of my tears about God come when I realize that he loves us after all. When we wander, when we curse his name, when we despair, his love is always there, always waiting. And isn’t that all any of us want? To know that someone cares after all, someone loves us and loves others in our pain, someone has always loved us and always will?

It is far beyond the simplicity of a fake smile and a placid reassurance: “Jesus loves you.” It is the simplicity on the other side of complexity for the drug addict, the whore, the psychotic, the housewife, the CEO, the murderer, and the child. It is simplicity earned only because it comes again after more darkness than we ever dreamed possible: “Jesus loves you.” Still. Whether you call him or not. Forever without end. He loves you. He does. And for a deep and soul-stilling understanding of that simplicity, I would gladly give my life. And my tears.

Wheels That Shout

I think a greater measure of a community comes not through the words it speaks or even the rules it upholds, but through its actions. We can say all we want about caring for each other, about loving one another as Christ loved us. But the true test comes in what we do. Are we so worried about our own individual list of rules that we spend all our energy and time trying to fulfill them? Or do we live with a certain kind of open-handed generosity towards ourselves and others, trusting that if we live truthfully and sincerely within community, God can and will make himself known among us? And more than that, when God does make himself known, we will have the grace to recognize it?

This week as I am alone with the kids, our car decided to breathe its last breath. And even before I had time to think about what I was going to do, a string of people lined up to offer rides, cars, money. In a long line of cars at my front door, I see in a very real way the love of family and friends. And every evidence of that kind of love is evidence I use to construct a picture of the love of God, a picture that grows clearer and easier to trust with every act of grace I receive.

Actions definitely speak louder than words. And really, when you consider the truth of grace, the depths of love, why not take your actions and shout for all you’re worth?