Caught in the circus ring of judgment

Tuesday, May 24, 2022

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Caught in the circus ring of judgment

The crowd in Philippi joined in the attack on Paul and Silas, and the magistrates had them stripped and beaten with rods. Then they threw them into prison.

Later, Paul wrote a letter to the Christians at Philippi and became a hero of the faith. Mobs are one thing, history is another (often a completely opposite “another”).

Yesterday in Jamaica, in 1839, Sam Sharpe was executed. Previously he was thrown in jail after he gave himself up as a civilly disobedient insurrectionist among the slaves of his country. Later he was made a hero, and his face appears on Jamaican money.

In Paul’s case his reputation and witness improved the very next day:

About midnight while Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns, and while the prisoners listened, there was a severe earthquake. The foundations of the jail shook, all the doors flew open and the chains were all pulled loose. The jailor saw all this and was about to kill himself. But Paul shouted, “Do yourself no harm; we are all here!” Then the jailor bowed before them and asked simply, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” In a moment he and his family were baptized and rejoiced at having come to faith in God.

It just doesn’t get any better than this! Or any worse! Paul’s emotions could never keep up with the ups and downs of his life, earthquakes and tempests, beatings and shipwrecks, the acclaim of crowds and spittle of despising Pharisees. But every day in every way the Holy Spirit directed him, comforted him, gave him words, and rescued him time after time after time.

Talking to Laura yesterday I realized how this circus of life gets to me as well. Too often I forget to “pray without ceasing” for mental mercy on the people I think of as enemies, mostly the “mobs” of the world in history and on social media and in the various election experiences people are having this year, bullies and men (mostly) who think only of themselves.

But when I think of them without praying and recognizing my own kinship, I enter what Laura and I called the “judgment” ring of the circus tent. Circling around, all the people watching, I might snarl and bark and then … when I try to escape, the walls of the ring rise and I’m caught. Caught in my own snarl, my own snare, my own stupid judgments.

Thirty-five years ago, our Waynesville guest Pastor Hall stood up high in the pulpit and hollered with his big, black voice: “Who told you?” And I heard God speaking to Job, “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation? Tell me! Who shut up the sea behind doors and fixed its limits? Surely you know!”

The pastor bellowed, “Who told you that you were better than all the rest?”

I was undone then, and I’m undone now.

The walls of the ring release me when I repent. But far better, they don’t even go up when I remember right away to pray for those “enemies,” to pray without ceasing, and know my own sin.

One of my favorite meditation masters, Joe Zarantonello, has his own temper. He writes a column once a month for the Kentucky Standard  in his hometown of Bardstown that shows it off. Here is his way of cooling down, which he learned in his adopted second country, Haiti:

 

Trusting the Cook Pot

The ever-present three rocks and a pot

is the essential heart

of every Haitian kitchen.

And under the pot, between the rocks,

is firewood or charcoal.

 

Somehow that image of the Haitian cook pot

has deepened in my consciousness

over the decades

and now rests in the cave of my heart.

 

Every time I sit in meditation and straighten my spine,

tuck my chin, move my ears back over my shoulders

and breathe in, breathe deep into my body—

the fire under the cook pot

glows a little brighter.

 

During meditation, when thoughts

or emotions arise,

no matter how

luscious

or poisonous—

I welcome them kindly

and drop them into the cook pot.

 

I let them simmer and marinate.

I trust that the heart

of this awakened body

in all its wisdom and compassion

will know how to transform whatever arises

into a savory soup to feed the soul of this hungry planet.

 There is no greater joy than being a child and servant of God. This is our calling, whether we hear it or not. But how can I hear the voice of God when I am pouting and shouting critical spirit cries of my own?

Your right hand saves me. The Lord will complete what he has done for me; your kindness, O Lord, endures forever; do not forsake the work of your hands. Your right hand saves me, O Lord.

(Acts 16, Psalm 138, John 16)

(posted at www.davesandel.net)

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