holy play
06.11.2011 
Lunch at the top of Montepulciano. Look carefully at my glasses and you can see Matt, the Artist.
Playing in the Street
A View from the Other Side of TownAt that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.
Jesus loved word pictures. The accounts of this story in the gospels paint us a picture. Jesus calls a child. One account says that he actually cradles a child in his arms. And in so doing utters these words about the greatest. Imagine the dynamics, the jockeying for first place in Jesus eyes. And then, Jesus tells them. You are great if you are little.
I am not entirely sure about the meaning of this beautifully mysterious interaction. I know that I love Jesus all the more for it. And it stills my noisy soul to think about being a babe in His arms. I wonder if He is referring to all the ways I protect myself from life, for example, making out like I am smart or kind in front of people. Posing. To be a child is to drop the pretenses and just be. Just be vulnerable to the brutality of life. Just be honest about my immense need for salvation. Just be real about my battle with sin and the flesh and how often I lose that. Just be in His arms.
The day after that hellish entry to Italy was a day of play. I am curious that the Lord ordered it that way. A day of seeing the darkness of my own heart and of the world post-Fall set the stage for seeing how sometimes we see Eden on earth. I began the day with Italian espresso. Need I offer more explanation?
Matt and I quickly crammed our elephant-sized suitcases into the tin-can Fiat and headed for the autostrada. Four hours of driving started off with laughter. And she chased away the tears of the night before.
As we entered the autostrada, another car immediately blew our Fiat off the road. It was as if we were standing still. I chuckled. Matt looked over at me and with flat lips and clenched teeth and says, Was that a nun?
I howled with laughter. A nun? On the autostrada? Leaving us standing still? Of course.
So Matt made it his goal not to be passed. And that is how we arrived at Montepulciano.
One of the Etruscan kings founded Montepulciano. This quaint village has decorated the mountainside since the 3rd or 4th century B.C. I said, B.C. As Matt and I explored the little cobblestone alleyways and clocktowers, something happened. We became young again. Very young. We played. Time left us. The bells sounding and marking the hour became music to our ears and had no other meaning.
I know that pride puffs us up. And to be without pride is to be smaller. As we ran from site to treasure to view to discovery, pride left us. We did not care what we looked like. We looked like American tourists, of course. But we were children playing.
We forgot about all appetites except the hearts of the children within us. And we forgot to eat before the restaurants closed for siesta. That we Americans have chosen to stay open 24-7 for business shows our foolishness and drivenness. Italians close down for naps. Hungry? You are on your own in Montepulciano. Go pick some grapes. And wait until 3:30 p.m. when life returns to the square.
We climbed all the way to the top of the hillside village. And we found a winery. Groups of weary, hungry Americans were already on the terrace. We saw a plate we liked and pointed. We want that! Plates of cheese, prosciutto, bruschetta delighted our palates. And the wine. Well, I think I had never really tasted red wine before this day. This was red wine!
We rested and drank in the view - quite literally.
The day was simply magical.
Maybe it is the closest I have come to simply letting Jesus carry me right next to his heart.
Reader Comments (2)
Beautiful post, yet again. I find I so desperately need play in my life, yet it's the last thing I make time to do. Jesus' instruction to become like a child is hard for me to obey, which speaks volumes about the condition of my heart. Thanks for sharing your words, your story.
one day you should put all your muses together in a book, really.