In 1863, Gen Robert E Lee invaded Pennsylvania, but was beaten back among the corn rows and hills of Gettysburg. In 2011, TS Lee decided to strike deep from the heart of the south, yet was also defeated by the good people of Pennsylvania, although at a high cost of personal property and sunshine. It was a ferocious and fluid contest—a high-pitched battle between order and chaos, between the forces of nature and man. While the affair was spirited and passionate, in the end, Pennsylvania remains standing to this day, once again able to thwart those who visit it with destructive aims.

In our own stretch of the battleground, combat involved three rounds of intense pounding and resistance, along with vigilant maintenance of the borders, to secure victory. Armed with a large supply of Starbuck’s Anniversary Blend and four hours of sleep, we were able to meet the enemy head-on first thing in the morning.

The high water mark came at dawn, as foes meet in the middle of the drainage ditch and commenced attacking and counterattacking. Relentlessly the enemy came, wave after wave, until finally, the tide turned, and the foe retreated back to its trenches.

Currently, a mop-up operation is underway to dislodge the final remnants of the adversary. Hopes are that the worst is behind us, and brighter days are ahead of us.

We salute all who fought this epic clash with a wink and nod from the Great Bard himself:

“But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today that sheds his buckets and mops with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen not in Pennsylvania now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon this Stormy day.”

On Sunday, Pastor Steve spoke about the power of Jesus – actually, it’s more like the total domination of Jesus over all of the strongest forces we know. Jesus is greater by 1x10 to the millionth degree times infinity plus one on top of that – or something like that. He is the ultimate authority and power over everything – nature, evil spiritual forces, the curse of death and destruction, and even all our cultural laws and traditions.

The one passage that I’ve reflected on since then was in Mark 2, where Jesus encounters a leper. In those days, leprosy was a scandalous affair, attaching great stigma to its sufferer. It was the 1^st century equivalent of AIDS. Lepers not only suffered the ravages of the disease; they were shunned and ostracized.

The mentality of the day was that if you were afflicted with leprosy, it was because you deserved it. You ticked God off enough to make him give this to you. You must have done something really bad. It was common practice for everyone else to judge lepers as worthy of condemnation. In fact, they were not even allowed to enter into the temple courts and worship with others. It would be like being banished from church, small group, Wed night services, etc.

In this encounter, the leper asks Jesus if he is willing to heal him. He’s not asking if Jesus was capable—that is a power question, and he knows the answer. He’s asking if Jesus is willing—that’s a love question. It strikes at the root of this man’s heart ache, his soul condition, his deepest longings and fears. He knew the condition of his rogue state of heart, and it made him cry out to God in desperation.

Jesus immediately is filled with compassion over this man’s plight—his inner demons and desires. Yes, he heals him physically, but he wants something more for him. He wants to heal this man’s heart, so he can love and be loved again. So he can know that even he is not outside the capacity of God to love him. He can find that his deepest fears about missing out on love is answered with a big NO from God. He can be loved. And it’s not just a theory; it’s happening to him right at that moment.

Now notice Jesus’ instructions. He says the man is to go to the priest and follow the procedure to be deemed clean. It was not for the legalistic purpose. It was because that was the way the man would be fully loved on a horizontal level after being healed on the vertical level. Jesus’ goal was for the man to be loved by his neighbor, along with his God.

But notice the man’s response. He went his own way. He failed to honor the instructions. While that might not have been a big detriment to him, there was an implication. It says that Jesus was restricted from visiting the local villages and healing others in the same way. He couldn’t give others the same treatment this man received. Instead, people had to go seek him out, like salmon swimming upstream, instead of having Jesus be in their midst and easy to access.

Just like the parable of the lost son is not about the younger son but the older one, this story is as much about the obedience of the man, as it is about the compassion of God. It’s one thing to be healed by God; it’s another to live in such a way as to invite that same healing into the lives of others.

May you live in such a way that your own healing opens the door for God to do the same for others.

Like Captain Jack Sparrow returning to the Caribbean from his internment in Davy Jones’ locker, here we are. After a Rip Van Winkle-worthy hiatus of two years, I’ve decided to weigh anchor and get the ship moving. It feels like the Black Pearl being dragged across the dry desert sand, but nonetheless, we’re on the move. Set the sails. Trim the rigging. Batten down the hatches. Clean up the poop deck.

Why is the road to hell paved with good intentions? And why is it that the toughest things in life are the hardest to tackle? Why are the easiest things in life some of the worst things for you? I honestly don’t know. They just are. It is what it is.

For instance: We’re in the process of switching banks, mainly because the old bank (heretofore known as Gringott’s) rejected our request for a HELOC (home equity loan).

But it wasn’t just the rejection – it was the way they did it. “Yes, you’re approved.” “Sorry, you’re not.” “Maybe you are…” We decided to weigh anchor on that establishment and find a place with a slightly higher quality of customer service, not to mention money we’d be allowed to use.

Anyways, the last time we switched banks about ten years ago, it took a matter of a few hours; with 1 visit to the departing bank, and one to the new one. We’d be done by lunch. Old checks in the shredder, new crisp ones ready to use. Quick and easy banking.

That was before on-line banking. Like the tentacles of an octopus weaving its giant arms  across my face while sucking the life outta me, on-line banking has made the affair a whole lot more complicated. I feel like Davy Jones looks.

All of our auto-pay and auto-direct and auto-this and that functions have served to extend our time frame to completion. I’ve been at this for 4 weeks, and I still have accounts to contact and companies to switch over. When will it end?

In moments like these, I’m tempted to swing the theological arrow in my head from “technology is non-moral” to “technology is evil”. It is what it is.

So, as we sail into the dark and murky future of blog writing (round two), my hope is that this time, being a bit wiser about the process, we can enjoy a grander and longer voyage around the ocean of my reflection, and the tiny bottles with messages in them that wash up on the shores of my conscience. Or at least have fun trying.