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The Jesus face happened again last Friday night.

My wife and I were guests at a friend’s home to celebrate a birthday and one of the invited families, whom we had not yet met, was late due to traffic. About an hour into the evening, they arrived with their 3 year old boy in tow. In the lead, actually, as he burst through the door first and locked eyes with my wife. She smiled. He smiled. They moved to meet each other as if they were long lost family. He held out his arms to be held tightly. A permanent bond was formed, no doubt.

“What is his name? Obviously you two have met before” I stated after he squirmed down once he realized there were fizzy drinks to be spilled had. “I have never seen him before. Isn’t he cuuuuute? Shouldn’t we just have another one like him? Ask his dad what his name is.” She replied coyly.

This kind of thing happens all the time. Jesus face is very likely to strike while doing something as mundane as Costco shopping. I will be minding my own business, pulling and pushing laden carts along when someone will invariably approach my wife and asks her where to find something or “How does this top match my eyes?” or just strike up a conversation about anything at all. A friendship is born. They easily carry on, looking to the world as if they were old pals. Usually, they will hug farewell and the new friend will say something like, “I feel SO MUCH better now that we have met. Thanks for talking with me.”

The Jesus face phenomena used to irritate me, and it still bugs my teenage boys somewhat. I guess because I am task oriented, I tend to get into my own world with the goal of getting in and out of the store as quickly as possible. She, on the other hand, is in everyone else’s world. I see her reading people, looking them in the eyes, smiling toward them. Her body language says “HELLO! I am safe and want to be your friend now!” Truth: More than once, store employees have approached my wife to ask her questions about their own store. She exudes peace, confidence and authority.

This past Spring all six of the Postmaster family were skiing at Mammoth Mountain in central California. Mom was staying on the easier runs with the two younger kids and the teenage boys tried to kill their dad on the runs marked with multiple diamonds. While us guys were trying to conquer as many runs as possible one one side of the mountain, my wife was on the other side trying to make as many friends as possible. Even under all those layers of clothes and even through the face mask Jesus face happened. At lunchtime, after hearing of our downhill bravery she waits to tell us about the friends she made while waiting in line or riding up the lift. She learned intimate details of the lives of a couple of women in the brief moments they spent together. No doubt she spread words of encouragement all over the resort. One of her new friends even lives in our city. I grunted to one guy about how nice the weather is today.

While waiting in line at a sporting event, a large group of football player size guys were getting a bit rowdy and using more and more foul language. The F-word and using the Lord’s name in vain really irk her and these young men were rehearsing all their naughty words for all to hear. (She tells this story quite matter-of-factly). Not wanting the kids to hear this kind of talk, she decides to ask the oversize boys to quit that kind of talk. I would have gotten pulverized, had I the guts to try this. So she walks over to the group, looks up and smiles. Asks them to quit using such language around the little kids. That’s it: she just asks and flashes Jesus-face. They become quite apologetic and even appreciative that she said something to them. “Thank you ma’am. We are so sorry to have offended you.” Issue resolved and no feelings were hurt. No trouble at all for Jesus face.

The Jesus face has nothing to do with her physical beauty. I of course think she is the prettiest girl in the schoolyard, but I know that is not what the Jesus face is all about. And the fact that she doesn’t even know what the Jesus face is all about or even when it is happening is one of her most endearing qualities. Somehow she conveys to everyone she meets genuine caring, selflessness, openness, and a willingness to be real. How anyone could say all that with a simple look in the eyes is a mystery to me but I see it happen all the time. And I am envious of her.

And I never see her practice the look in the mirror. She never sets aside quiet time to try to improve her look. The Jesus face cannot be improved by working at it, in fact the opposite is true. The harder one works to appear Christlike, the more like themselves they become. No doubt you have seen telepreachers that try so sincerely to look pious that they become mockeries of their own efforts. How does one try to become like another without looking silly in the process? Think Michael Jackson.

Lest I step off a theological cliff at this point, let me just say this: Jesus face is not a self-motivated event. It just happens because she allows Someone greater than herself to take up permanent residence in her very own life. The privilege of wearing Him on one’s face is not earned by performing great and selfless deeds nor is it wages for a life of austerity. Being the perfect mom or wife has nothing to do with things like this. Flashing the Jesus face is the only possible reaction to allowing the creator of the universe to reside within one’s self. Seven layers of skin could hide who lives inside?

So what is my point in writing today? Not to brag. Not to say “Do this and you will be happy”. Not to try and convince you to believe any particular way. I suppose I devote this post to a woman who has realized that her joy in life comes not from her inherent goodness or in trying to become a better person or in being religious, for that matter. She know her value as one of God’s children and it has changed her life, moving her from self-focused to other-focused. Her joy reverberates into all who come close, as I imagine it did for all those who by chance met Jesus in the marketplace while He walked on earth. I picture those ancient people, shopping in the open air market, perhaps glancing into His eyes and receiving a sincere Jesus face smile in return. I imagine He was in no hurry to get home for supper, but rather was pleased to just visit with a stranger for a while. I am sure that the children all wanted to be hugged by him.

You know, I see lots of people, especially kids, wearing those WWJD (What Would Jesus Do?) bracelets on their arms these days. And that is nice. It is nice to imagine what Jesus would do in any given situation and try to act like how I would guess the creator of the known universe would handle my little issue. Nice, but not life-changing. The real life-changing question is simply WHI (Who He Is). Not How Would Jesus Want Me To Behave? or How Can I Imitate Jesus? To adopt WHI as one’s life motto is to give Him permission to mold your heart into a shape that pleases him. My wife knows Who He Is and it shows. WHI informs who she is.

My wife is still the spunky, funny, fun, loudmouth, card cheating, organized, passionate, great Italian cook, christian person she was when we married two decades ago. But there is also that Jesus face. It shows up more and more regularly. Her family sees it the most, though I doubt the kids really understand nor appreciate it. We have a living mystery in our home. I stand in awe of a woman who would step away from herself and let Him live in her.

We are so blessed.

Technorati Tags: God's goodness, marriage

It is Sunday and I just cannot resist giving a little A little Sunday School lesson this morning.

Let’s talk about Rocks. Not this kind of rock: “Dude you rock” or ” Rock on Garth” or “It’s only rock and roll but I like it” (and I do by the way).

I want to talk about stones, boulders: ROCKS.

My favorite book, the Bible, has something important to say about these commonplace objects. In Joshua chapter 4, the Lord was about to do something miraculous for and with His children, known as the Jews or Israelites. The Lord was about to move over a million people and their possessions through a river that was swollen full due to the season of the year. It is highly probably that few of these people actually knew how to swim, owing to the fact that they had been camping out in the desert for the past 40 years or so.

You probably remember the story- for the second time in their recent history, God parted water. He held it back long and well enough so that over a million people could walk through from one bank to the other on dry land. Imagine how long this could have taken. God must be pretty strong.

The part I want to emphasize this morning is not the miracle of piling up water. That is apparently no big thing for our God. I want to emphasize piling up rocks. God told Joshua that He would hold back the water long enough to have 12 men go back to the middle of the river, pick up 12 stones, as large as they could carry, and stack them up on the other side in an organized pile. The Lord intended (if you will allow me to presume here) for these simple everyday rocks to become the catalyst for many more miracles to come. Miracles far greater than the one Israel just witnessed.

He told them to pile up the stones at the riverbank so that when their children and the children to follow would ask “What do these stones mean?”, the fathers could tell their kids and grandkids about the miracle that God performed that day when He parted water to allow safe passage for those He loved. He anticipated that men’s hearts would be changed as fathers retold the story of God’s faithfulness toward His family.

I know a modern day family that has just such a rockpile at their home, right at the front door. They have written dates on smooth stones and piled them up neatly at the front door. I asked them about the rocks and their writing on them and they began to tell me and my family the long story of God’s goodness to their family, even through difficult circumstances. It stirs emotions in me still today, though we have long since moved from that city and lost contact with those people.

We owe it to our children to build such rockpiles. It is important that we men tell our kids and others of the wonderful acts of our faithful God. We forget so fast. Seems we tend to, over time, shift credit for God’s works into our own account. You know those times when we beg God just to save our sorry heinie from some circumstance of our own doing, then time and pride taint the memory to assign our salvation to our own cleverness . . .

I suppose a literal pile of stones is not necessary, and could be impractical if one lives on the fourth floor. But I do think that is important for us to display clever and mysterious clues that point to God’s goodness to us. It is good to encourage ourselves to speak of the creator in terms of His fingerprints upon us, his children. Imagine parties at your house and how the usual banal discussions of our careers might be redirected as guests discover your clever rockpile and inquire about it.

Our Lord so easily becomes just a concept. Just God. Don’t we all deal with feeling distant from Him from time to time?

Somehow, for me at least, seeing the gospel written on another’s life always draws me back to Him. Hearing of His excellent goodness toward a friend or family member softens my foolish and prideful heart. The challenge here for us all is to pile up rocks where people will see them and ask about their importance. I tend to hide the rocks in my heart.

Does God still do miracles? Yes, every time a dad tells his son or daughter about our Lord’s faithfulness at least one heart loses some hard scales. That is a miracle every time. Miracles are performed in marriages every day when spouses look back and remind each other of how good God has been through the hard and good times. Miracles can happen when friends see the gospel written upon the history and fabric of our lives.

Technorati Tags: bible, God's goodness