Lights in the Night.

Thursday evening we headed east on the toll road. One of the odd things about my life is that unless I spend time with our two granddaughters, I don't get a day off. So although we had seen the kids over Thanksgiving, we were headed towards Columbus, Ohio.

The sky was thick with dark clouds. The sunlight slipped sideways out of the world. I was sitting, doing some work, reading the paper, and thinking...as Sharon drove.

We took the toll road into Ohio, and then headed south on state highway #49. You miss Fort Wayne but the highway has twists and turns. Takes you through one small town after the other.

I was surprised to find myself delighted by the Christmas tree lights in the yards...and in the homes along the way. The night was very dark. The world was cold. And we would drive by these houses where the Christmas lights -especially the trees decorated with all white lights- seemed to be calling us all inside. Promising warmth. Home. Someplace where we could be ourselves.

A CD of Christmas music -by the Christian rock band 3rd Day- was playing. The lights... the homes...the music...all combined to produce all sorts of feelings and memories.

I found myself thinking of our church's work, right now, to become even more welcoming. To strangers and guests. So that people who are hungry for God, for truth, for grace, will feel like they are home when they walk through our doors. I thought about churches that are like those houses with no lights hung by the windows...churches that look cold and dark and lifeless. And I thought about how churches -and individuals- sends messages out to the world that their hearts are open.

And I thought about times when our family...is together. What it feels like to have everyone under the same roof. Sometimes there are tensions...challenges...but almost always it is so very good!

I thought about the Christmas in Belguim, when I was a boy, and my folks were thinking of adopting a young Belgian child. A boy. He came to the house for a visit. I can't remember his name or face. But for whatever reason my parents chose not to take that step.

I thought about my Mom. Sometimes, you know, there are moments when you miss someone so much you think your heart will burst. I was thinking about my Mom...who was wonderful and strange and passionate and distracted and always late and full of love for God. Then, as we stopped at a stoplight in a small Ohio town, I looked over at a store window. The owner had hung four old stockings in the window as a part of a Christmas decoration. One of the stockings
-a red one- happened to have the name Anita inscribed in large script. My Mom's name was Anita. I smiled. The light turned green and we began moving south, again.

The lights along the way make the darkness more than bearable, don't they?

Interesting how Jesus, John explains, was light coming into the darkness. And the darkness has not overcome it.

Love Multiplies.

This is a big week. On Friday afternoon our second granddaughter, Olivia Rose, is to be born at 2:30 p.m. in Columbus, Ohio. (Being an IU grad and having your granddaughters born in the heart of Ohio State country is really tough...I feel like a rabbi whose kids have moved to Teheran!)

Those of you who know me, know how crazy I am about Beautiful Ella. Being a Grandpa has surprised me...this 21-month old has my heart. She tells me she misses me over the phone. She squeals and jumps into my arms when her Mom comes her way to change her diaper or give her a bath. When we watch basketball on tv she even imitates my muttered, "Oh, come on!" when the refs don't make the call.

So Olivia is on the way. I wonder how I can feel the same kind of delight...and yet I know I will.

Love has this way of multiplying...the heart has this way of expanding. When there are more people to love, God gives us the gift of more love. There is always enough.

I've been in a conversation with a friend who is thrilled with her small group at Trinity. She and her friends are so delighted that they hesitate to divide the group and help grow some new groups with that same kind of gracious, loving, Jesus-centered DNA. I tell her God will multiply the love.

Sometimes, when I talk with people in churches where there is a proposal to go from one weekly worship service to two, or two to three, I hear them say, "We won't know everyone." I tell them, "Yes, you're right. If we need to know everyone in the church then the church is going to have to stay really small. Which means we turn our backs on all sorts of folks who want to know Jesus...know God...experience grace-filled community." I tell people it is okay...God will multiply the love.

Paul, the tough, old rabbi turned Christian preacher, is writing to the early Christians in 1st Thessalonians 2:7b, uses the image of a nursing mother to describe his relationship as pastor. He talks about how much he loves them and has worked among them. Truth is, though, he says the same thing to Christians in other early churches. He loves them...all. God multiplies the love. There is always enough to go around when we hang out with Jesus.

Olivia Rose.

I think I'll call her, Lovely Olivia.

I'm ready to welcome you and love you, Olivia. And we'll make sure Ella doesn't get lost in the celebration...there will be enough love to go around.

The More You're Loved, the Farther You Go.

Slipped away to Columbus, Ohio this past weekend. Trinity was hopping with great worship, a big-time food drive, and a packed Upward Basketball/ Cheerleading celebration in the afternoon. But we needed to go. So we did.

There is a playground on the back yard of an elementary school in the Westgate area of Columbus. We headed down there several times, with our 18-month granddaughter, during the weekend. She is just learning her way to navigate around a playground...across the uneven surface of a grass yard.

Two things I noticed.

First, she has gotten pretty comfortable very quickly. What that means is instead of waiting for us to walk by her side, Ella goes on ahead of us. There have been times when she would walk 4-8 feet ahead of us, but that is lengthening out. Now, she will go off 20-30 yards. She looks independent. Like she could conquer the world. If you watch carefully, though, you'll notice she turns her head half-way to the side to catch the occasional glimpse of us. Just to make sure we are behind her. Just to make sure she isn't alone.

She looks back. She sees us. Then, she faces forward and goes!

She is a little girl who is so well loved by every adult in her life? Mom and Dad, Grandma and Grandpa, her babysitter, and adult friends at Columbus Vineyard...she is well loved.

Love gives us the confidence to go on...walk ahead...go further. Without love we are always afraid, always clinging, but when we are well loved we have the confidence to move ahead...go out...explore the world.

I John 4:18 says perfect love drives fear out of our lives. I see that in her.

There is a second thing I noticed: she doesn't need to hold onto my hand when we walk across the yard. The uneven grass is a challenge for a little girl, but when I offered her my hand Sunday morning she pulled her hand back and shook her head, "No."

I smiled. Watched her navigate her way across the grass of late winter. It's an interesting moment, isn't it? We love, hold onto the next generation, and then they need to let go...make their own way across the terrain of this world.

Loves gives itself away so that the other can be independent...so that the other person can walk their own path.

Love, as I commented to someone the other day, means holding on...and letting go.

And when you love well the other person experiences the freedom and confidence to let go.

Leaning Back.

Funny how a granddaughter can change your life.

I never expected this.

But I have been knocked out by the joy Ella has brought into my life.

There are a lot of things that just "get me" about her. The way she walks as she holds onto the finger of an adult. Her legs reaching out in a wide arc. Her bare feet feel the ground or surface ahead... almost like another set of hands.

There is the way she hears someone digging in the freezer in the kitchen, and she motors in on all fours saying, "Ice...ice."

There is the way, when she hears music, she begins to move her hands as if she were conducting the Chicago Symphony Orchestra...only not in an obvious way. With more subtlety.

There is even the way she, when she gets frustrated, puffs up with rage and looks like she is going to blow a gasket. The other night at a barbecue place in Columbus she lost it. The only thing on the table in front of her was a small, stuffed penguin we had bought during a visit to the Zoo that afternoon. Ella rose up, and swept her arm across the table knocking the penguin into the air. Almost as if she was saying, "Okay...the penguin's going to get it...and one of you could be next."

It's all cool.

But the thing that gets me is the way she comes up and leans back against me. She just settles into me. Stretches her arms, tilts her head back over my side as I lie on the floor, and throws her arms around my neck.

Her vocabulary is pretty limited right now, but I think what she would say in those moments is, "I feel safe. I feel safe with you...and we're sort of one."

John Wesley, who founded the Methodist renewal movement, talked a lot about the "assurance" of salvation. What he meant by that, I hunch, is we know when we lean back into the grace of God we are going to be okay. The love of Jesus is going to catch us.

There is a Christian song that talks about "leaning on the everlasting arms." It doesn't talk about leaning on the shoulder of God...or leaning on the tummy of God...or throwing our arms around the neck of God.

But I think you get the idea.

And so does Ella.