Shape: reflections

Shape: reflections

by Troy Cady

Recently, I heard a popular television preacher explain why he is justified spending so much on high-end, expensive clothing. He reasoned that, as a father, he wants his children to look good because, if they look shabby, it would be a poor reflection on him as a father. Since God is a good Father who loves to give good gifts to his children, it’s not only normal for Christians to be good dressers but, really, we should be the BEST-dressed people around. It’s a reflection of the best Father when his children look the best.

This is the shape of designer faith, I suppose.

…………………………

Some questions.

I wonder what it would look like if Christians today looked more like Jesus and if they were more fully shaped by the cross?

I wonder if people who have golden toilets installed eventually come to take the shape of their installations or if they more closely resemble the contents therein? I wonder if the sacrament becomes to such a person nothing more than a little cracker and cup of juice. I wonder just what is the sacrament of the rich and powerful? Is it Body? Is it Blood? What is the shape of their altar?

I wonder what it would look like if we invested more of ourselves in being clothed with “compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience” than in surface appearances?

How is it that we have completely misread the message of the Bible, a message that proclaims God does not look at the outside of a person—but looks at the heart? I wonder what place Isaiah’s vision of Christ’s disfigurement really has in our closeted hearts?

Indeed, what shape is my life to take if I say I want to be in Christ and have his life in mine?

Such a small, haunting question: What shape is my life, my heart, to take?  

…………………….

She’s a shaper.

Something is being formed

between her legs,

something spinning,

an artistic mess, wet

between her legs,

a creation by the creator,

precious, unique.

She puts her whole body into it,

every tough muscle

and delicate drop of water,

sweat and—yes, blood—

her voice at turns singing

and whispering, laughing

as she makes.

See her hands, strong,

(and her womb is verdant)

shaping something common,

approachable, and beautiful,

something that holds

something to sustain.

She makes space

between her legs,

a hospitable place

for tenderness

poured out like

generous breath.

See how her heart is fixed

on what she is making.

She’s a shaper.

………………………………….

Americans tend to esteem the self-made person. We prize our autonomy. Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and…make something of yourself!

It’s a mystery: somehow my life takes the shape of what I make of it but somehow there is a greater power at work all around me and inside me, shaping me in grace and love. This power is not mine, but it is in me; it’s a mystery.

This power is a Person who knows and can be known. This Person is a shaper, a maker. This Person makes in, by and for love. And it is this very love that shapes me—if I let it shape me.

We let love shape us as we learn to know the Person who is the Lover. We learn to love by letting ourselves be loved, then loving in return.

What God is making is so much greater than anything I could ever make on my own. Our lives are shaped by love more than we realize. When we open our eyes to this reality, it transforms us. Instead of trading rags for riches, we learn to see our rags as riches—because we see everything in love. There’s no need to play dress-up anymore. Love makes us real. This is the shape of authentic faith; its poverty is its wealth.

………………………….

At Christmas we remember that love takes the shape of infancy. It’s the shape of God’s hungry mouth, suckling on the heavy breast, filled with milk. It’s a shape you can get close to, a shape that comes close to you.

Love takes the shape of God’s poverty. The King became naked and cold, homeless.

The shape of Life at Christmas is an imperfect shape. It’s risk and vulnerability. It’s an open shape, open even to be oppressed and extinguished. It’s a shape unlike any shape you’ve seen before. It’s a mystery.

The shape of God at Christmas is a small shape. It repudiates bigger and better. It’s weakness is its strength. It’s an artistic shape, a creative shape that creates life in all who take the time to really look at it.

It’s a simple shape, but no less captivating for its simplicity. Somehow, it’s always the same and always changing at once. It will never wear out, never cease to stun and silence us.

God’s Christmas shape is a shape that begs to be held, cherished, nurtured. Keep this shape warm. Treat it gently, tenderly. Wrap it to keep it warm, but don’t try to control it. Console it when it seems sad and laugh with it when it’s lively.

The shape of a Christian at Christmas should mimic this mysterious shape. It calls for deeper listening, closer looking, better loving.

Mockery has no place, nor cheap imitation. Who needs wrapping paper when hope is the gift?

…………………….

Ultimately, a Christian is one who puts on the cross. The true Christian is one who is shaped by the reality that the Father sent the Son so that all who would imitate him would be filled with the Spirit of God to share the love of Father, Son and Holy Spirit with all.

This reality, properly understood, makes the sign of the cross. The vertical axis was drawn when the Father sent the Son; the horizontal axis is formed by the Spirit prompting those who believe this story to share God’s love with everyone. The story itself is the cross, so a Christian is a cross-shaped person.

And cross-shaped people are naked people.

God, in both infancy and death, disrobes—showing us his whole unhidden self. What a shape!

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Maybe you’d like to make this prayer your own. It’s a simple prayer, but if it is prayed from the heart, it can change everything. I invite you to pray it with me now, in the simple, silent, mysterious shape of your soul.

Shape me, Lord.

You are the potter; I am the clay.

Help me stop pretending.

Make me real.

Make me what you want me to be,

not what I want to be.

Let my life take the shape of your love.

Amen.