To the Bone.

   I was ask to contribute some writing at a service based on the passage below and on some time spent in a rough neighborhood down town. It's a little long and definitely based in my beliefs but resulted in some really good self assessment that I think could be good for us all.

Ezekiel 37:1-14 - The Valley of Dry Bones

The hand of the Lord came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all round them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. He said to me, ‘Mortal, can these bones live?’ I answered, ‘O Lord God, you know.’ Then he said to me, ‘Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of theLord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will lay sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the Lord.’

So I prophesied as I had been commanded; and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, ‘Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath: Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.’ I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude.

Then he said to me, ‘Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They say, “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.” Therefore prophesy, and say to them, Thus says the LordGod: I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people; and I will bring you back to the land of Israel. And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act, says the Lord.’

CAN THESE BONES LIVE?

   To be perfectly honest I thought this task of writing would be simple. A quick trip down through the rough side of town, a few cleverly written metaphors and observations that answer this question, thoughtfully, but with a solid yes. Can these bones live? I had not even made my trip down town and I was eagerly gearing up for what I would write.

   I won't pretend with you. I like writing and I like people's responses to my writing. I think that to be effective we have to vulnerable. So here you have it - vulnerable me admits that I do not do what I do just for you but also because I get something out of it. Knowing this you may not trust me but on the other hand at least you know I'm being upfront.

   I was pre-ghetto trip and all ready deciding what I would say. All ready patting myself on the back for the unique perspective I was going to bring to the lenten table tonight. I had some good stuff too. I may even still share it. But riding in my car God reveals other plans. Interrupting my well laid devices he gentley yet quite clearly says,

“Joe, your looking at this the wrong way? Will you trust me to show what I see instead? Will you let me answer the questions you ask? “

   God and I drive down 39th street. We make our way from South West Traffic Way far past Troost because I loose track of where I am. I'm to busy sorting the so called answers God is bringing up.

   I was afraid of something overly churchy, something trite and simple. I was afraid God was going to tell me about saving people, about love, sentimentality I've heard a hundred times. Odd, that I would resist this. Is Love trite? God are you trite? Do I not believe in Love and deeply? I did not get a trite answer. What I got was much worse.

   What I saw was a culture that does not care anymore. Who finds friendship with me only because I have money, or food, or a ride somewhere. What I saw was people who don’t care about Jesus or hope. They would let me tell them the gospel if it came with a couple of bucks at the end. I am a little shocked when I think,

“Why waist my time here... they would take our good news and squander it, same as they've done with everything else.”

   I push this thought away. I tell myself to be humble. I remind myself of compassion. I expect the Father to step in and affirm my humility but instead Abba pushes me back down, down into my place, back to the hurtful truth -

"Be here... I am not changed by your response...say what is on your mind."

   What is on my mind is that a thousand, no a thousand-thousand churches have done just this same thing before. Yet here it is unchanged. Me, driving around thinking about the poor, clinging to the idea that may be there is something at Jacob's Well (my church) that will change this place.

“What would you change Son?”

   Perspective, I guess. These people are calloused, they really don't care about anything I would say. They've heard it all before. They would resist you Lord because they don't believe anymore, can't believe anymore. They may try but it won’t work because ultimately they're selfish and lazy. I would want them to see the truth of you.

"Do you know these people better than I do?"

   I am reminded that when left to assumption it is human nature to project. We see ourselves in everyone else.

“Lord am I projecting? - Yes.”

   Oh no. It's me. I'm calloused. I'm the one who's afraid it will not work, that nothing will change. I am the one who has lost hope. I don't believe. I am the one looking for something in return. I am the one who’s heard it all before. I am the one who is lazy and selfish. What is it I want? Why do I have this need? 

I feel embraced. The Father asks,

"Are your bones dry?”

Tears fill my eyes, “yes.” 

“Why?"

   I do not know. I've done it all. I've run these systems, prayers, bible reading, community, ministry - Is there something I've missed? I feel like I've relied on you, loved you, trusted you to be my strength. Yet when you lead me to a pile of dry bones I lay down with them and you cannot tell me from the others. Can these bones live? Does it matter if they can?

"What season is this?"

“Lord it's lent.”

   I can see myself holding a small mirror,

“Face yourself Son. What are you?”

“I am sad Lord. I think I lament. I think I lament myself. I lament these dry bones.”

   In the mirror I see a man carrying a cross. Up the hill he goes. Now he's in the grave. His bones dry, dead. I see him in hell. My Lord tormented. Guilty of my sin. I see the Father standing in his tomb he asks,

"Can these bones live?”

   I see Jesus remember who he is, remember the one he called Abba and he answers,

“Yes.”

   I feel arms around me. I turn around and I am face to face with my Lord. The mirror is gone. Now in my hands is a gleaming crown. It is jeweled with priceless stones. Each representing all I’ve ever done. It's mine and I can keep it if I wish.

   In Jesus’ hands are two small containers. One is filled with water. The other with oil. I feel my spirit stir. I feel it quicken at the sight of them. I start to speak, Jesus interrupts. He looks at my crown. He lifts the water and oil to me.

“I love you” he says

   He does not take my crown. I hold on to it for a moment.

“I've worked hard for this” I say with more tears.

“It's yours to keep if you wish.”

I lay it down... We walk away.