Branding and Love

A pastor from our church spoke yesterday of advertising and the process of branding a product or service.  As a business owner, I wanted to listen intently to what he had to say.  I am always struggling (in business) on the thin edge of following the practices in corporate America and what it looks like to be a Kingdom business owner.  I wrestle with questions about social media and my business image - why should I use Twitter?  what will an Instagram account gain me?  how can I be a value to my clients and not give into the "selfie" way of advertising.  After all, when people see my business, what do they see?

The truth is, I can use every social media outlet and hire people to make me a great logo and catch phrase, but if there is no substance to what I offer to my clients, the whole thing will quickly fall apart.  The question I always need to be asking myself is not how much money I want to make or how to advertise in the hippest, coolest way, but what is the substance of of the product?  What is really there when all the glitz and tinsel is removed?  (And that is a question it is so easy for me to lose sight of!)

Of course, the pastor's point was not about focusing on our business careers, but rather, he turned the same concept to our walk with God.  If we bear the "brand" of Christian, what is really the substance of the product that is actually there?  Does it turn out to be an anemic, diminished version of what we advertise it to be?  Or is there enough substance there for those who know me to say "yes, she walks in the Jesus way".  And not just that, but would people know the calling on my life from spending time with me?  (Heck...do I know the calling on my life?)

This past week, God seemed to pull multiple pieces together to help bring a flash of clarity to my life.  The Sunday message was one of them; memories of past events, a picture and a writer's words joined the patchwork quilt to reveal a pattern of substance (or calling) that God has been creating in my life since I came to know Him.  He is kindly reminding me of the substance of our relationship and the identity He wants to carry into the world.

This will be a three part revealing of that substance and His branding.  Here is the first:

I am not sure what happened the night of April 17, 1987.  I went into the building at the invitation of a friend and I left having fallen deeply in love with a Man who would change my life.  I thought I had come to watch the play, so elaborately set up on stage.  But really, I was to encounter the drama not as a spectator, but as a participant.

It was Good Friday.  I was a sophomore in high school struggling with teenage angst - friendships, purpose in life, where I fit in this world.   I was not particularly religious.  Afterall, I was raised in Canada, a country not known for being formed by the Christian story.   I received the invitation from my friend to attend an Easter Musical and since I believed it was good to go to church a couple times a year, the Easter season seemed like a good fit for that (Christmas being the other one!).  I went with her expecting to see the story of Jesus’ last few days of life and his supposed raising from the dead.  We would watch quietly, then clap for all the actors and go home.

That plan of mine was well on its way to being carried out when that Jesus character, having had that Last Supper thing with his guys, wandered into a garden to pray.  As all his friends fell asleep around Him, he began to talk to this invisible God.  Here is what I heard.  “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah….Father, I am praying not only for them (the snoozing friends), but also for those who will believe in me through them...blah, blah, blah, blah…..Father, I want those you gave me to be with me, right where I am….so that your love for me might be in them...blah, blah, blah, blah.”

I am pretty sure I didn’t hear anymore of anything from that point on.  I am sure the Judas-actor came and betrayed Jesus with a kiss. I am sure Jesus was nailed to the cross and then rose again.  I am sure the pastor came up front to recap all we had just seen and to give us an “invitation” to believe in Jesus.  

But for me, the whole universe stopped on that solitary figure, agonizing in prayer in a garden.  All I knew was that I was no longer just watching a play about Jesus. That was Jesus there on stage and I wanted Him. My heart was breached and as it ruptured, the floodgates sent out such a torrent, I found myself trying to tread water in a raging storm of affection.  All I knew was that in an instant I had fallen in love with that Man.  

His prayer was the only invitation I needed.  Like a person sinking in raging waters, I wanted to reach out and grab him. I wanted his life to be in me and my life to be in him.  And I knew nothing else - I did not know the right things to believe, I did not even know I was a sinner - all I knew was that love compelled me to want Him.

Thus began my journey with this Jesus.  I have learned many things since that beginning day of our romance - lots of facts, lots of doctrines, lots of religious opinions - but my journey began deeply rooted and grounded in this thing called love.  (And even at that, it was a love not from gratitude for what had been done for me, but a passionate love like a lover to her Companion.)

I have been asked lots of times what it was about Jesus praying in the garden that affected me so much.  Twenty-seven years later I still don’t have the answer.  Who knows why love appears so magically out of nowhere?  Doesn’t it always surprise us and take us aback a little?  All I know is I walked in to see a play and walked out in love with this man Jesus who had already begun to transform my life.

A Tree in Winter Stands

A tree in winter stands.  That is all it can do.  Gone are the flourishing leaves, the bejeweling birds, and the warm yellow sun.  Left is barrenness, nakedness and sluggish sap that moves little, if at all.  It stands in air that is an blue-cold enemy, piercing, and uninviting.  

A tree in winter stands.  There is no life growing energy to exert, just roots that cling to cold soil, hoping their hold is enough to brace against the next frosty storm.  Even the blanket of moss that covers the trunk abandons it as it falls off in rough, icy pieces.

A tree in winter stands.  It stands in the cold shadows cast by the low sun.  Its extended arms reach longingly for a warmth that does not come.  It cannot hide its undressed limbs, nor wrap those appendages around its body for modesty or protection.

No...a tree in winter stands.  And that is all it can do.  It has no bounty to give the world around it - no shade, no fruit, no beauty.  It only stands - waiting, longing, hoping - while the onslaught of winter weather is relentless.  

But in its standing months, it learns to be unmovable and anchored.  It also learns the opposite: to be flexible - dancing with the prevailing winds.  It learns what great vanity there is in holding on to its adornments and so will be grateful instead of prideful when its leaves return.  It learns that cold and snow, ice and freezing temperatures are inevitable and can be endured. And though it stands in shade, it knows that there must be light somewhere to create that deep shadow.

Within the winter-stand, the tree learns who it really is.  One called to be deeply rooted, strong and upright, with branches reaching high into the sky.  With all else stripped away, it can unashamedly embrace its calling.  When all the flourishes return and it becomes useful again, it is grateful, but does not mistake its outward appearance or its utility for its core vocation.

A tree in winter stands.  That is all it can do.  And its Creator smiles as the tree begins to understand that truth.  

(Sometimes, I think I might just be a tree.  How about you?)