bridge-building

There is a story my husband loves to tell, about this man who was walking on a beach one day. Looking down, he sees a brass lamp, which he excitedly pulls out of the sand. As he begins to rub the sand away, (you guessed it), a genie appears. The genie asks him, “I am allowed to grant you one wish. What would you like more than anything else?”

The man, being from California, says, “I would like you to build a bridge from Los Angeles to Hawaii, with restrooms, and no tolls.”

The genie frowns, replying, “Are you nuts? Don’t you know that will disrupt the shipping lanes? Besides, in order to engineer a secure bridge in the middle of the ocean like that, I will have to make all kinds of changes to the weather patterns.” He stops and thinks. “No, I don’t think your bridge is such a good idea. What else would you like?”

The man looks at the genie, pondering. Then, he answers, “I think I would like to understand the female mind.”

The genie smiles, and then responds. “Would you like that bridge to be a four lane or two lane?”

Ha ha, very funny, I say…

But then, I’m female. My husband, and every man he has ever told the story to, just howl together in laughter. Interesting, I thought. So, during a speaking engagement, I decided to reverse the genders in the story, and see what happened. Guess what? The women laughed, and the men didn’t. Let me say here, that Bill and I spend lots of time in communication each day; and I am finding myself more and more in love with him each day — even after 30 years of marriage.

Communication in marriage is like bridge-building. It is a process requiring time, thoughtfulness, and above all, safety. Over the years, I have been amazed at the number of times I have had to remind married couples that they need to learn to listen, as well as learn to share. Not long ago, I worked with a couple who had been married for more than twenty years, and had never shared their childhood stories with each other. When I asked the husband “why,” he said, “My childhood bothered me, so I didn’t want to upset her.” The wife, for her part, had been waiting for him to initiate a deeper conversation; one delving into the “why’s” of his principles and values. But he had never opened the door. So the silence remained. When the door finally did open, this particular couple discovered a greater appreciation for each other, and a mutual emotional magnetism between them. They fell in love again.

They had come to my office thinking they were heading to divorce court. The Silence between them had become deafening. Sadly, they had waited until their children were grown, using their same patterns of relationship, to ask how the problem could be repaired. Over the years, the Silence had become Unresolved Conflict.

When a man and woman marry, hopefully they do so, because they love each other, and want to spend the rest of their lives together. Hopefully, it is because they have found a safe person who accepts and reciprocates their desire to know and be known. In the Bible, this process is called, “the two becoming one.” Notice that the word ‘becoming’ denotes a process.

Becoming one involves learning to speak a new language — the one your spouse speaks, many times not worrying about whether they are speaking yours… It means both partners giving 150%, rather than an even trade of 50%. Servant-minded living is the economy of the Kingdom. At the end of the day, each partner gains the ability to live in relationship “bi-lingually.” If you need an illustration of how well it works to only speak your own language, imagine yourself needing to find a restroom in a foreign country, and not knowing how to ask. What do you have to do in order to communicate? Of course, you have to find someone who knows your language and ask them how to ask for directions.

It is too easy to consider only one’s own mindset in relationship. And sadly, the “easy way” always costs us. We lose relationship; we lose experience; we miss out on the richness of humor and discovery. Mistakenly believing the only language we will ever need is our own, we isolate, we retreat. We become self-centered, expecting everyone else to come to our point of view.

And far too many times, if we have fortressed ourselves in, Anger shows up when we are asked to speak another language.

Relationship is a God-idea —– Isolated Independence is not.

Honesty and Vulnerability are Creator-concepts —- Defensiveness and Secretive Silence are not.

God created us for Community. Marriage is that Community’s first picture. Family is its second picture. Community is where healing is supposed to take place. It is where relationships grow and develop; where we are allowed to grow; we discover even when we make mistakes. Sadly, even church environments have at times become places where safe community has strayed from His original plan — so how to we learn to trust each other again?

It starts with Hope — Hope opens a door — it’s like finding the brass lamp. Then, we have to let someone else in, to help us to learn a new language. Because understanding the mindset of the opposite gender is always like building a bridge…..

Where do you want to start?

(c) 2010 DG – Awakened to Grow — Duplication without permission prohibited.

resurrection

Today’s post is the second excerpt from my soon-to-be-available novel, entitled “Journey”. The book recounts the lives of Mary Magdalene, Simon the Pharisee and many of Jesus’ disciples. It is the result of over 8 years of research and a trip to Israel. This post is my attempt to begin to explain what the power of the resurrection means in my own life. ….

Three days later, just before sunrise, Mary Magdalene and Mary, the mother of Jesus, made their way to Joseph’s garden tomb. “Surely they will let us anoint his body,” they told each other. “What should we do if no one is there? Who will break the seal and move the stone?”

As they neared the path leading to Joseph’s garden, both women were unexpectedly knocked to their feet. The ground was shaking again, this time with more force and power than either of them had ever seen. Below them, the earth roared, thundering.

Was the world coming to an end?

Just beyond where they were on the path, a flash of lightning lit up the sky.

“Did you see that?” Mary asked Magdalene.

“Yes.” She answered. “Where did it come from?”

“I wondered that too. It didn’t come from the sky.”

Both women broke into a run. As they entered the clearing in front of Joseph’s tomb, they stopped in astonishment.

The great flat stone, some six feet in diameter, had been rolled away from the door. Who had broken the mortar seal?

Around them, on the ground, looking as though they were dead, were five Roman soldiers.

However unusual, these were not the things that drew their attention.

Sitting on top of the stone, to the right of the open doorway, was a young man. He was clothed in a blazing, white garment. He shone with a piercingly bright light. It emanated from him and enveloped him. It moved as he moved.

And yet, they observed, he was real.

The young man looked at them, as though they had been expected. He smiled. “He is not here,” he announced. “He is risen — just like he said.”

“What did you say?” the older Mary asked him.

“Come and see.” The young man indicated the open doorway to the tomb. “Go in, and see the place where he was laid.”

Not exactly sure what they should do next, the two women looked at each other. They would have to pass this glowing figure in order to go through the door.

The older Mary took the lead. Taking Magdalene’s hand she led them through the doorway. Was it authentic? Magdalene watched the young man, to see what he would do.

He seemed to be enjoying himself.

He watched them as they passed. He smiled at them.

Entering the grave, the two women were greeted by two more young men in glowing white garments. Both were sitting on the bench where Jesus’ body had been placed the day after the feast.

Was it brighter in here, the older Mary wondered? Where was the Light coming from?

Who were these men, Magdalene questioned? They carried the same Light and Substance with them she had encountered the night of her deliverance.

Were these angels, then?

She couldn’t stand up in this atmosphere, she realized. She fell to her knees. So did the other Mary.

The angel sitting on the head-plate spoke, looking directly at Magdalene. “He is not here,” he said clearly. “He has risen. Look here. This is the place where he was.”

The second angel, sitting at the foot-plate, looked at the older Mary and smiled. “Go and tell the learners — and Peter — He is going before you to Galilee,” he said.

What? The women looked at each other, and walked out of the tomb. Upon their exit, they were greeted by Salome, Elsbeth, Joanna, Abigail and Hadassah. Each woman was carrying a bag of myrrh and spices.

“Good morning!” Hadassah said.

“What are you doing here?” Magdalene asked.

“We came to anoint the body. We’ve decided we will unwrap him if we have to,” Salome spoke.

“It’s not here.” The older Mary spoke with a new conviction.

“What’s not here?” Salome asked.

“The body; it’s not here.” Mary looked at them as she repeated her words.

“Did you see the angel?” Magdalene asked. “He was sitting right here.”

“No, we didn’t see an angel.” Joanna looked at her strangely. “But we did see the soldiers running down the road as we were coming. One of them said something about going to make a report.”

“To Pilate?”

“I don’t think so. They said something about giving account to Caiaphas.” Abigail answered.

“I think one of them was in Commander Flavius’ regiment,” Elsbeth offered. “I remembered seeing him before.”

The older Mary looked at Salome. “The angel said we should tell the disciples the Master is alive, and will be waiting for us in Galilee.”

Salome’s face broke into a smile. “Are you sure?” she asked.

Mary glanced back toward the open door. “Pretty sure!” she answered.

The group of women left together, talking and sharing. It would be wonderful to share the news with John, and James, and Andrew…. They couldn’t wait to see their faces.

But Mary Magdalene couldn’t find the strength to leave the garden area. Old emotions began to surface.

If he wasn’t here, where was he?

She looked back through the tomb door.

Yes, the two angels were still sitting there. She just wanted to be sure.

Her thoughts began to race. Her eyes filled with tears. The pent up fears of the past few days began to rise in a torrent of emotion.

She began to weep; the sense of abandonment overwhelming her once again. What would she do – without Him?

“Why are you weeping?” The angel at the head plate asked, his voice coming through the open doorway.

“Because they have taken my Master away; I don’t know where he is,” she answered. How would she learn to live her life, she wondered? Who would teach her the things she was still missing? Who could she ask?

Would anyone else understand her heart?

Perhaps she just needed to find a place to have a good cry, she thought. Looking down, she turned, and almost ran into someone.

Oh, she thought. The gardeners are here to tend the grounds. I will have to go somewhere else to be alone.

“Why are you weeping?” the gardener asked.

There it was; the same question. Magdalene decided to get some answers. There had to be an answer. She would find strength somewhere inside herself to handle this. She took a deep breath

“Sir,” she said. “You are the gardener. If you have taken his body somewhere, please tell me where it is….” Her voice broke, and she began to weep harder. Sobs were beginning now. She had to get the words out. “I …. will…come and take… his… body… away.”

There was a short stretch of silence. She didn’t know what else to say.

Where could they have laid the body?

The Gardener spoke, gently; kindly, quietly.

“Mary!”

From the deep caverns of her soul, her being resonated with response. This was the Voice that shattered her chains in the storeroom. This was the Voice that called her brother back from beyond the grave. This was the Voice that had shaped her identity since the night of her deliverance.

This was the Voice of her God.

She fell to her knees, and took hold of his feet in worship, weeping. “Oh, Master!” she cried with relief. “Jesus!”

He knelt down and lifted her to her feet. “I haven’t ascended to the Mercy Seat, Mary. Don’t cling to me yet.” He paused. “Go and tell my friends that I am ascending — to my Father; and your Father — to my God; and your God.”

She stood up. Looking at him she realized he was shining. It was the same light she had seen surrounding the angels; but it was brighter, stronger, somehow. She took a deep breath, and smiled at him.

“I will, Master,” she replied, her heart suddenly light. She turned to go, and then excitedly took a step to return to him. Thinking better of it, she turned again to go the other direction, returning to her task, remembering his words. For a moment, she looked back at him. He was watching her and chuckling. Yes, it was Jesus.

She ran from the tomb. Was this a song she was humming? She didn’t know. She had never been so full of joy. He had kept his promise.

I will not leave you alone. I will come to you.

Perhaps she could still catch up with the others.

A few moments passed.

The older Mary, Salome, and the others, were still moving towards the city. In actuality, they were not too far ahead of her. Coming off the pathway which led to Joseph’s family home, the group turned onto the main road. Suddenly, a man stood six feet in front of them.

“Good morning, friends!” he called in greeting.

Stunned, the women looked up. No one had seen him walking down the road…. Where had he come from?

“It – it’s Jesus!”

The older Mary stood in shock for a moment. Then, all at once, she ran to him, and dropped to her knees, grasping his feet. Was he real? Was it really true?

The other women gathered around him as well; Salome and Joanna, Hadassah and Abigail. Elsbeth just stood weeping. Each one found themselves wanting to confirm what their eyes told them. They too, touched him, hugged him.

As the discovery of reality became clear, a sense of fear emerged. The desire to be separated from such power; somehow given a “safe distance,” whispered to them.

“Don’t be afraid!” Jesus looked clearly at Salome and those standing back, beginning to just observe.

“It’s all right! Come closer!” he said. “Go and tell my friends I will meet them in Galilee.”

The women had run elatedly to deliver the message.

At first, it had not been well received.

At first, the men had not believed them. “Silly women!” a few said. “Magdalene has always been too emotional!”

But then, Simon Peter and John decided to confirm the story. John had gone into the tomb first. He was convinced, and had told them all so.

Poor Simon, Mary considered. He had been sure it couldn’t be true: even when his wife told him her experience!

Then, he had looked into the tomb’s doorway and seen the wrappings neatly folded. The handkerchief Nicodemus had placed over Jesus’ face that night was over to the side, as though he had wiped his face before getting up. In disbelief, Simon Peter had gathered the linen wrappings to his chest.

He had wept, full of remorse, for hours.

He still wept easily, and often.

No one knew when, or where, but the Master found Simon Peter at some point during that first day. She could only envision the conversation which had taken place between them.

Peter didn’t talk much about what Jesus had said to him, but just the mention of it in conversation always brought him to tears.

The fisherman had been different since then too, she considered.

He was gentler, less impulsive; certainly less forceful in his opinions.

Elsbeth had confided that changes had taken place at home as well……

…. To read the rest of the story, look for “Journey” to be available later this spring, released through Advantage Books.

(c)2010 DG — Awakened to Grow — Duplication without permission prohibited.

good friday

Today is Good Friday, the beginning of a celebration of New Life for Christians all over the world. Today, I wanted to post an excerpt from my soon-to-be-available historical novel, entitled, “Journey.” It is a peek into what the day of the Crucifixion might have been like for people who were there to experience it. –

From chapter sixteen — “New Wine”

It was sunset before Antonio Longinus returned to his quarters in the Fortress. Justus Flavius had been off-duty for several hours.

Taking off his sword, and his shoes, Antonius sat down across from him. “It was quite a day today,” he said.

Justus did not look up. “Yes, quite a day,” he answered quietly.

“Your man Atticus was a real help today, Flavius. I appreciated him getting that foreigner to carry the Galilean’s cross. Your men did well. I am going to include a commendation in my report to Rome.”

“Thank you,” Justus answered, still quiet.

Longinus sat down by him. “What’s wrong, man? Have you not eaten? Did you get bad news?”

Justus lifted his head. “One of my best friends died today,” he said.

Longinus nodded. “I understand. I’m sorry. Did he die here in Jerusalem or back home?”

“Here,” Justus answered, looking down again at the floor.

“Oh,” Longinus walked across the room and took two wooden goblets. He filled them with wine. Looking through the provisions on his table, he pulled out loaf of bread. He tore the loaf in two, and began preparing two plates of food. “Come and sit with me, at least. You’ll feel better if you eat something.”

Unfeeling, Justus rose and came to the table. He sat down across from Longinus, who began to speak.

“In all my years, I’ve never seen an execution quite like the one we saw today. I’ve never seen that many people, or that much blood. And, until today, I thought it was against the law to scourge and crucify a man. I thought the rulers were supposed to choose.”

Justus looked at him. “It still is against the law.”

Longinus took a drink of his wine. “You know, that one man; the one in the middle; what was his name?

“Jesus.” As Justus spoke, his voice broke.

“Oh,” said Longinus, tearing a piece of bread. “Was he your friend?”

The Capernaum commander nodded. “He was a Healer. He healed my servant. He raised my friend’s daughter from the dead. He healed several lepers that I know. He….”

Longinus interrupted him. “He raised someone from the dead?”

Justus nodded.

“I knew there was something about him. You should have heard the things he said from the cross. He gave out forgiveness. He asked a man to take care of his mother. It was like he was looking out for people.” He paused. There was one thing he said I didn’t understand; garbled, you know….Then he said, ‘it is finished,’ like he had completed some sort of job or something.” The centurion paused to take bite of his food.

“Anyway, usually I have to break a man’s legs so the lungs collapse. That way they die before sunset, and the birds don’t get to them. Some of the men don’t do it that way, but I hate going back the next day and seeing places where the vultures have had their fill.”

Justus shuddered. Longinus continued, his mouth full of food. “This man was already dead when I went to check him. Just before, he had said, “I’m giving my spirit into your hands.” I thought he was talking to one of his group that stood there all day. But just after he said it, he let out a long yell.”

“I wanted to be certain he was dead, so I took my spear, and opened up his side. It’s important to be sure the lungs have really stopped working, you know. It’s more merciful, really. I wouldn’t want to be buried alive, would you?”

He swallowed his mouthful.

“Anyway, I told my captain ‘this man must be the son of God!’ When the spear hit the lungs, a fountain of blood and water came rushing out of him. It went everywhere.”

“Is that unusual?” Justus asked

“It’s never happened before; at least not to me.” He paused. “I left my men there to finish the burial detail.”

A knock sounded on the door. Justus rose to answer it. “Go ahead and eat, Antonio,” he said. “I’ll get it.”

When he opened the door, Justus was greeted by young messenger, dressed in the regalia of Pilate’s court. “Commander?” the messenger said.

“Yes,” Justus answered, not remembering the message would be for Longinus. He took out his hand and took the sealed scroll.

The young man put his fist to his chest and saluted, then walked away. Closing the door, Justus looked at Antonio. “It’s a message from Pilate, I think,” he said.

“Go ahead and read it,” came the reply. “Are you going to eat your meat?”

“No, I’m not really hungry.”

Longinus moved Justus’ plate in front of himself, and continued eating. Justus opened the message and read.

“We have both been summoned to come to Pilate’s palace.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t say.”

“Let’s go then. Let me just clean up a little.”

When they arrived in Pilate’s court, the two officers were ushered immediately to the throne room. Pilate looked up from the scroll he was reading. He rolled it up and gave it to the scribe who stood by him.

“Yes, that is what I wanted to say. Make sure you include the extra details I told you.”

“Yes, sire,” the scribe responded.

Pontius Pilate looked at the men before him. “So, Longinus, I’m sorry to call for you. I know you’ve had a long day.” He looked at Justus. “Who is this?”

“My name is Justus Flavius, sire. I serve Rome in Capernaum. My men and I were summoned as support for the Passover detail.”

“This has been a nasty business,” Pilate commented. “At least it will be over tomorrow.” He looked around the room, and raised his hand to indicate a man in priest’s robes standing just to the left side of the bema, or judgment seat where he sat.

“Longinus, this is Joseph of Arimathea. He is a wealthy man; well respected in the city. He has asked for the body of Jesus, the Nazarene. He wants to take care of the burial requirements for us. He will need help getting the body down.”

Longinus and Flavius looked at Joseph. “We will see to it, my lord,” Antonio answered.

“There’s more,” Pilate said. “I also called you here because we have a small complication. Caiaphas has yet again managed to put a fly in my ointment. He has ‘requested’ that we set a watch on the tomb for three days. It seems this man said he was going to rise from the dead or some such nonsense. I want you to seal the tomb and set a watch. Rotate the men if you have to. I know they are all tired after the week.” He paused, thinking.

“That’s all,” the Prefect finished. “You can go.”

As Justus and Antonio turned to go, they heard him speak to his assistant. “I asked you for water and a towel.”

“I brought them to you, sire,” the assistant responded.

“I know. I used those. They are soiled now. I need another basin of water,” Pilate commanded. “I need to scrub my hands again.”

“Yes, sire. I will do whatever you say. But if you keep washing your hands, you will rub them even rawer than they already are.”

“Don’t presume to tell me what to do, man!” the Prefect angrily replied. “Who are you to tell me if my hands are clean or unclean? I have to get this blood off of them!”

Outside the palace, the three were met by another priest. He was waiting in a wagon. “What did he say, Joseph?” Nicodemus asked.

“He gave me the body,” Joseph answered. “But these gentlemen have been asked to seal the tomb and guard it.”

“I have myrrh and aloes to anoint his wounds and prepare him for burial, here in the wagon,” Nicodemus told him.

“It will take a huge amount,” Joseph said, with a sad sigh. “How much did you bring?”

“About a hundred pounds,” came the reply.

“That might be enough,” Joseph answered. “We had better hurry. Nightfall is coming.”

(C) 2010 DG- AwakenedtoGrow. Duplication without permission prohibited.