Perhaps, because of my big build up around my Parisian jaunt, you’re expecting a big old bloggy blog recap of highlights from my trip. BUt also it’s Maundy Thursday, the day we wash feet and come to the table of our Lord AND I’m going on a big shopping trip for the weekend that includes candy, champagne, cheesy potatoes-everything that starts with a ‘C.’ So here’s the real condensed Parisian highlight reel:
Lounging in the sun at Luxembourg Gardens (google it), making new friends thanks to music and seeing old friends thanks to music, the Cruffin (croissant/muffin hybrid of ectasy), laughter, huge step counts, boat ride down the Seine, Mona Lisa (play the Wyclef Jean/Neville brothers song), red wine, late nights, too many cafes too little time, empty French church, rain and skulls and femurs, skulls and femurs, skulls and femurs, blossoms, wandering, metro, street crepe, picnic, beauty, living, friendship, best time ever.
And Blessed are the poor in Spirit.
When my husband went to seminary we lived in the Central West End far from the hustle and bustle of on campus housing and while he studied up on his Greek and Hebrew, exigetics and what not, I was mailing stuff and answering the phone at my day job. Talk about blessed are the poor in spirit, I was crap at that job and have been crap at most adulting from the gekko here on out til today. And Blessed are the poor in Spirit.
The road of redemption sits atop a hill where, on either side there is a barrier free cliff down which the poor in spirit traveler might fall. And fall they do. And fall I do. On one side is the valley of despair (this is my preferred darkness) down which I tumble over and again when I think of my fault, my fault, my most grevious fault where I have ever done wrong and betrayed the light into which I have been born anew. To fall into despair is the trap of the poor in spirit whose weaknesses demand restitution and payment and hope trades in hopelessness for all hope is lost. The poor in spirit miss a step and down they go. Down down down.
On the other side of the road lies the cliff down which the poor in spirit plunge when pride fools them into taking goodness into their own two hands and believing they can earn their place in the kingdom with the right words, the right actions, the right platforms and choices- that redemption is for the dumb dumbs who haven’t reached such clarity as I have with my posh answers, my obvious wisdom, my shiny gold plated everything camera ready and smiling. And down down down we go. The minute we think we have it all figured out is the minute we join the ranks of poor in spirit and claw our way back onto the road.
The road is on its way to the cross this Thursday morning and every weekday and weekend here on out. Should we lose the road and fall fast and far we rely not our own own cross, but the cross of Christ. It is through his perfect life and innocent death that we, and by ‘we’ I mean all people of every time and place in human history were reclaimed as children and renamed righteous.
“I confess that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ my Lord, or come to HIm, but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith.” -Exerpt from the Third Article of The Creed regarding Sanctification in Luther’s Small Catechism
To believe is the work of a lifetime. To count oneself among the poor in spirit in need of savior is the daily dying and rising to new life. “Believe in me. Believe also in the one who sent me.” By my fault, by my fault by my most grevious fault I fall at the foot of the cross over and over again asking God to number me with the forgiven and he does. I am abundant in my confession and He is ever more abundant with His reconciliation. To despise confession and to despise forgiveness is the most dangerous of places to be. Blessed are the poor in spirit who have empty pockets where their goodness and earnings should be. The Lord takes his riches flowing from his hands and feet and sides gives them to whomever should bravely whisper. “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.” And he does for, as He says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit.”