There was a boy
A very strange
Enchanted boy
They say he wandered
Very far, very far
Over land and sea
A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he

And then one day
One magic day
He passed my way
While we spoke
Of many things
Fools and kings
This he said to me
“The greatest thing
You’ll ever learn
Is just to love and
Be loved in return”

-lyrics from Moulin Rouge

Much to my chagrin, I got sucked into a very silly novel last week. I read The DaVinci Code cover to cover in about three days. Now, keep in mind that is practically a record for me these days because the only time I have to read is when the children are in the bathtub. Needless to say there were a lot of household things that didn’t get done those three days. Like, for instance, dinner.

Anyway, this book is silly. Cliffhangers at the end of each chapter, little bits of fact spun wildly out of proportion, important topics like women and the church being made ridiculous by being spun into potboiler plots and over-the-top conspiracy theories. Nevertheless, it was very entertaining — like reading the script for a movie with Pierce Brosnan and some way-too-young-for-him female costar with big wet wondering eyes and a tough-cookie interior. One of the ideas that is presented in The DaVinci Code is that the wandering minstrels of the middle ages, the troubadours and singers, were integral to preserving important stories. They spread truth-bearing tales like seed as they traveled. They sowed a sustaining narrative thread as they walked.

Sound familiar? Jesus as Wanderer. As Vagabond. As Minstrel. As Troubadour.
Cool.

So that’s what we thought about this week at ThPM. We went from Craig’s really narrative-rich gothic-ky collage, to remembering our favorite Jesus stories, to making a tree of remembrance. The tree was mostly for my kids. I’m really disturbed at the Lenten materials that are available for kids. For instance, I downloaded this thing where you put a little symbol of the Lenten story in a plastic egg – 12 eggs in all. (Why 12? 7 days of Holy Week, 40 days of Lent, 12 eggs??) Then the kids get to open one every couple of days building up to Easter. Once I got them all assembled, I realized almost all of them focused on the violence of the Lenten/Easter story. “Look kids, here’s the rope that they used to tie up Jesus. Now, who can make knots? Okay Jimmy, tie a bunch of knots in it and we can turn it into a scourge!” Fun for all ages. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to sideline the events of the cross. I’m just saying, there are 40 days in Lent in which to remember Jesus. Do we have to spend all 40 of them counting blows? So, inspired by DaVinci and the troubadours I suggested to the crew that we make the girls a tree, a storytelling device. I asked that we each make a story book, or a card or an ornament, or whatever of our favorite Jesus story and hang it on this branch that I had stuck in a bucket full of plaster of paris. I said, maybe it could be good for us too, to think about his stories and which ones matter to us and why. And I said (in my head) even if you think it’s dumb, could you just humor me?

By the end of the night we had this branch dripping with worship. Each of the little offerings were beautiful, or whimsical, or stark, or funny, or refreshing, or romantic, or holy. I just kept thinking, “I love my church.”

I had a dream, when I was in college, probably 12 or more years ago now, of a group that would worship in a home and express themselves through art. I was at a conference for social justice at the time, and I stayed up half the night writing notes about this vision in my journal. I remember my roommate, Camille, begging me to turn off the light. So I sat on the bathroom floor and scribbled away.

Twelve years ago. Sometimes I have to pinch myself.

Anyway, Friday, the girls came downstairs. At first, they seemed nonplussed by the tree. But as the weekend progressed they became more and more intrigued by it. Why was there a little crown on the top that said, “King of Kings and Lord of Lords”? Could Eden scan in Alicia’s one with the pretty cross and make pictures with it on the computer? How come Pastor Ed’s says’ “smile” on it? Didn’t Neil’s make me think of frogs and flowers and how Jesus made those? Sunday morning we spent two hours sitting around the table in our pajamas playing with the Jesus Tree and making more ornaments for it. Here’s what Eden’s says.

Dear Jesus. I hope you hear the songs I sing everyday. I hope you like them too. At home group night the people made a tree for you. Love, Eden.”

The kingdom is here. The kingdom is come.

Now, here’s the prophet in me, the part that is never quite satisfied, who’s always seeing both the kingdom now and the kingdom not yet. How do we extend this goodness beyond our front door? How do I share this beauty and this joy with other people? “I believe in Jesus, I believe he is the son of God. But when I say that to people I feel like a palm reader.” (Donald Miller) I become a crazy person, like the homeless lady at the grocery store who came up to Paul and the girls and said, “Your girls are lovely but I know whose you are and I don’t like where you come from.” I am a woman possessed. How do you make that make sense? How do you extend that in the loving hand of Christ? What can you offer, palm up, that doesn’t make people confused? How do you translate the kingdom?

Dear God, I thank you for this beauty that surrounds me–that spills from my community and drips from a now flowering tree, down onto my dinning room table. Show me how to swing open my door and throw this out onto the world like armloads of petals. A dream 12 years in the making and still I am not satisfied. How do we give out living water? What is the gourd to carry it cool from the well to the lips of my neighbor? Jesus Christ…Son of God…Savior. Show me the way.