Written by Jan Davis

Reverence usually resides in quiet places. It plays with a newborn baby and it holds the hand of an old man. It is found in awe, it participates in ritual, it gazes at a rose. The object of reverence would open us to the transcendent. It is not something within our power to change or control and is not a human product. It is not fully comprehended, even by experts. The posture of reverence is seen in Rembrandt’s Return of the Prodigal Son - the touch, the knowing of God’s first love. It is in holding what is dear. Rather than trying to manipulate our environment, in the presence of reverence we allow ourselves to truly encounter the other in mystery.

I remember once walking into a very old, small cathedral. I smelled the accumulated candle wax and lingering incense. I sensed that it had long been a prayed-in place. I could almost hear the subtle echoes of ancient prayers. It awakened my yearning for knowing my place as a human being among the community of worshipers.

The face of reverence is our own self-portrait. We look at ourselves and know the tender place within where the Divine dwells. The key is to feel the reverence go deep and to give it away at the same time.

For more reflections like this one, visit www.HenriNouwen.org.

As I sipped on my old-fashioned lipton tea in a highly vintage appealing mug, I reflected on saying goodbye to the imfamous and glorified age of 21 and what it meant to be, well, 22.

Nothing really, to be honest. I don’t feel older, I don’t feel younger, I feel just about the same.

However, I caught myself reflecting about the previous year. Hustle and bustle, decisions, friendships, a holw myraid of events taking place in just a simple year. I had (and still am) on this kick about time. It’s a facinating thing to think about but complicated to justify, divide, and spend. Like the stock market - cool to think about, but no idea what to do with a beast of a thing.

These pondering thoughts came about while I was making my way through the book of Mark. I love when patterns arise in Scripture that speak of character and reason, in particular, the service and usage of time of Christ. We don’t find Him out and about with the high dollar peeps sipping $40 wine and enjoying a juicy slab of lobster tail nor do we find him fitting in to the culture with a passive nod of approval when injusticies surrounded Him. Rather, we find Jesus touching the sick of heart and health and speaking truth to a dry land (no pun intended).He even took time often to get away to rest and pray.

Hmm…looks a lot different than my lifestyle. Of course, they’re nothing wrong with lobster tail (all things belong to God - Colossians 1:16-17) but in this second year of my twenties, what will the chapters of my life say about God?

Seems like a big challenge. I’m fairly sure I cannot raise folks from the dead, but I am sure that I can listen better, give more honestly, love more deeply, read and think more often, speak with wisdom, and pray much more often. And what I love about the character of Jesus is the truth and love and justice that radiate from him, much more than any laws or regulations. I can’t fill out a government-style Christ-likeness form, send it in, and pay my dues for a year. To submit (yes, I said that word) our lives to Christ by serving Him with out love and hearts does more than give - it brings to life.

And so I ponder about the second year of the twenties. Lots of perspective has been given to me and reflected upon in these two past years (my poor brain). As I serve with the CCO I am grateful and jubilant at how I am challeneged through this organization to grapple with this Christ-likeness. Take a day off, read good books, share the love and truth of Christ with students, think, serve, and love. Listen to stories. Love people different than you. Laugh till you make obnoxious noises.

Give God the glory.

What keeps you up at night? Sometimes it’s a thoughful conversation, or an exciting course of events, or even an extra cup of coffee that was past your time limit (unless you are a hard core caffine consumer). Either way, lying in your bed at night with a restless spirit is sometimes enjoyable but other times agonizing. You much rather stop your brain, flick the switch, pull the plug, but you just can’t. Not yet.

It seem like our country is restless, too. Even political figures like Barack Obama are using “change” as a charismatic term for a hopeful tomorrow. It seems many have grown weary of certain issues, and when things get weary, change is often a option.

It’s not surprise that there is a human instinct of restlessness for change. Scripture speaks of creation “crying out” and yearning for a day of redemption. With as much junk that goes on through this world, there seems to be an equal amount of yearning for the good, pure, and just.

Things were good, pure, and just when creation was established until sin entered the picture. Sin is such a tainted word in our culture, but I find if helpful to think of sin in archery terms: missing the mark. Through sin we move away from God’s plan and that missing of the mark causes a disconnection. Ever since then God has faithfully and loving been working to restore creation and His relationship with those who are designed in His image. Yet because of this missed mark, there is a price to be paid. The entire Old Testament is filled with these promises of One who will restore all those things - a King - a ruler - prince of peace - peace at last!

But the leader that was expected took no political office, not a shiny resume or swarm of bumper stickers. He sacrificed as a leader, a servant, a lover, a listener, blameless in all He did. He sacrificed himself for the sake of us. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. (John 15:13)

By Christ giving himself as a sacrifice for the junk of this world, the junk of our world, and the junk that is still going to happen, there is a victory over those things. There is an assurance, a hope, a change. It’s interesting that this characteristic of self-sacrifice is one that sets the Gospel apart from other faith beliefs. This God, slow to anger, abounding in love, wants to restore and bring about a change. He is a King and we serve to bring pieces of His Kingdom - a new heaven and earth.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.
Rev. 21 1-4

And living in the power of this redemption is something we ought to think about more often. This message the Church has to offer is amazing, life changing, and the hope of the world but often a silent whisper among His people each Sunday morning and every morning through the week.

Martin Luther was once asked “Pastor, why is it that week after week after week, all you ever preach to us is the Gospel”, implying that they were ready to move onto something else. We already know this, why are you continuing to preach it? And his response was “Well, because week after week you forget it. Week after week you come in here looking like a people who don’t believe the Gospel. And until you walk in here looking like a people who are truly liberated by the Gospel, I am going to continue to preach it to you.”

If we don’t keep remembering the Gospel, we will never grow, our hearts will never change. our community will never be changed. By the time we go to bed tonight, we have already forgotten about this truth. But Jesus does change our hearts and our communities - the hope and truth of the Gospel. Because the Gospel has not failed us, we have just failed to believe it.

Living with an intentional aspect of you day is no treat. It’s not always a pleasure. But really, I rather live each day knowing why I do what I do instead of living in cluelessness. How do we live out the Gospel in our days, each morning, each moment?

It’s a big question. None of this is for self righteousness, for that only produces flattery, and flattery in it’s very best only produces behavior modification. But to surrender our lives to the Gospel, letting God enter the area of our lives in which we repent and ask forgiveness for our “missing the mark” nature, and being guiding by the scriptures and prayer is a beautiful beginning of not only intentionality but of liberation of the Gospel. There is a world of wonder in seeking the face of Christ, knowing His character, and working to serve samples of the Kingdom here on earth.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.
Colossians 1:15-20

Jigsaw puzzles. Most of us have stood before a mess of cardboard chips in a bewilderment of how a jumbled pile of color can turn into this landscape of an Irish cottage (depending on your puzzle). You stare at the pile, and then stare at the box. You just don’t get it.

Sure, you’ll find a piece that looks an awful like something in the photo. “Yes!” you declare to yourself as a frantic investigation begins. Surveying the other pieces you become a puzzle piece detective. “Do you know this piece? Will you partner with them to make the big picture?” Sometimes you’re successful, and others you shove pieces together hoping it’s a fit when obviously the combo is bending and breaking the piece - a sign to keep looking.

I’m often not a big fan of puzzles. Scrabble - bring it on. Cards - I can handle that. Jenga - sure, why not. But puzzles? I’ll avoid the disappointment and frustration.

But that’s just it.

Over the weeks as an “official” CCO staff serving at Juniata it’s been an adjustment, to say the least. My schedule makes little sense, the people are new, the apartment is new, and it’s so hard to put the pieces together sometimes. I get frustrated and walk away from thinking about figuring everything out only to return to it a little later. Sometimes I put a few more pieces together, and others and don’t make any progress.

It’s been an amazing experience thus far. The picture is coming together. And today I put several pieces together during a walk from the Unity House (inter-faith house on campus) to my apartment.

I might not have this whole occupation figured out, and that’s okay. Much like life. But I realized that maybe I’m over thinking the puzzle. I need to step back for a moment and look at the picture on the box. After a great morning, I realized that I love my job. In fact, I think I have a great job. We all grow up in a culture of “work, work, work, thank goodness it’s the weekend”. Americans often dislike their jobs and what they do. You can make lots of jokes about it, but really, the jokes on you. We spend over 40 hours a week at our jobs. That’s a lot of us doing a lot of what we don’t like. That’s a lot of life. And that stuff is priceless. To draw an analogy, it would be like pouring gas in the drain of flushing $20’s down the crapper. Valuable stuff we’re just tossing.

That’s what I was afraid of for years. I wanted to love my job, I aspired to that, dreamed of it, hoped for it. I wanted to send a work day with the intent that tomorrow is okay, not dreaded. I wanted to laugh at work, succeed, but be faithful, honest, and using my gifts for something good. And deep down, we’re all looking for that.

Even though it’s just the beginning as a campus minister and there is lots to learn, there is a moment. A reflection. A pause at the picture on the box. I may not have all the pieces together, there are a few that make hints of something amazing. So I’ll keep pluggin’ away to see what can be created.

One of the best things about the puzzle is that doing them with others makes the experience so much more meaningful. I remember visiting a former supervisor at her house while her two daughters worked on a huge Cola-Cola puzzle. With music in the background, we joined in on the puzzle and worked as a team to put portions of the picture together. I left the puzzle incomplete but a satisfaction that I contributed and could experience that not only gave to their efforts but gave back to me. We’re in this together.

500 pieces or 100, we’re in this together.

(Maybe I’ll buy a puzzle at a yard sale this weekend, just for the challenge. One of my best friends is a puzzle geek, so we bought a ton of them for her until she told us “no more!” as her closet billowed. Besides, I’m ready to be more “brainy” than watching cable. Good books and puzzles might be cool hobbies to pick up. Plus, when I have people over, they can help me put it together, haha).

Job changes are interesting phenominons. They contort your fixed schedule, uproot your patterns, and pushes you into the pool with a blind fold (and sometimes you don’t even get to dip your big toe in the water to check the temperature).

Regardless of what happens, there is always an identity shift. We relate to a profession because it becomes part of us. If you’re a doctor, you remain smooth and collected. If you’re a contractor, you consider yourself knowledgable and resourceful. Yet what does it mean to be campus minister?

It’s a heavy, loaded word. Sounds like of bulky, like a sweater you only wear once in a blue moon because you’re okay with feeling uncomfortable for the day. But being a “campus minister” is not to place yourself on a mountain with a bullhorn or peddling the Bible on a cart down residence halls. Rather, it’s the act of loving college students, walking with them, and being a branch that establishes a better connection to the vine : Abba God.

Yet nevermind my job description. It’s the morning hours that have struck me. As this person in a place where the branch is connecting to others to the vine, myself, as a branch, must be connected to the vine, the source, the powerhouse, the energy, the lifesource, the reason.

Stopping each morning seems like a job requirement, but how mistaken is that! In fact, over the past several weeks I’ve come to see the value of only I placed 30 min. of time in prayer and scripture with higher importance regardless of my career changes. To serve on campus and to serve in the office, factory, or field are just as dependant upon our personal connection to the vine Himself. We are to honor God with our passions, dreams, desires, and occupations - even if it’s not strickly considered “Christian” work by a “secular” culture.

Oswald Chambers reminded me of the truth in this connection to the Vine by saying:
Our spiritual life cannot be measured by success as the world measures it, but only by what God pours through us - and we cannot measure that at all.

As a branch, regardless of my title, I want to be connected to the vine and connect others as well. I yearn for leaves of green, fruits abounding, but knowing full well that the starting place is at the other end.

The Vine.