This post spoke to me today, it's short and worth reading the quick link if you have time:
http://www.jacklynady.com/lifestyle/dont-waste-your-time-convincing-the-nonbeliever/
His final conclusion: "...because the people who need and believe in what you and I have to offer are just around the next corner. Better to find them and serve them well than wasting time trying to convince all the nonbelievers." This immediately put me in mind of one of Jesus' wedding parables. It is the one in which a messenger is sent out to gather guests to attend a wedding, but when these potential guests were too much otherwise occupied, the servant was NOT sent back to be more persuasive--he was sent to new different guests; for that matter, to less likely guests. What do I do with this pathway?
Why is it so tempting to want to be persuasive? Maybe because persuasion supports this self-image that I am someone intelligent and eloquent, a good "witness" for the One who sends me? These are not bad aspirations...unless He is more interested in my obedience than my eloquence at this moment. Then the best measure of me would be to give me the unconvince-able and see how long I squat with them.
He sends Paul before Agrippa.
He sends me to watch someone wade into the cesspool where I was nearly poisoned, even while my flesh is only just healing from the festering sores of that acid sludge.
He sends me the worker too busy to celebrate.
He sends one running to me; one I will love; one who lacks only this: a reckless generosity of spirit. He sends and then leaves me to watch as that one walks away sad, unpersuaded. (Mark 10:17-22)
August 26
Faith and Work
There have been times when fear of my own weakness--whether due to a temptation or due to a sense of lack in my natural ability--has made me consider not doing something I found myself given both opportunity and calling toward. I don't want to fail the people I'd impact with my own leap of faith when they take the leap of faith in me.
It ends up not being just my leap of faith, but all of ours.
That's when this verse gives me comfort: And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to [his] purpose. Romans 8:28
Interesting to think that this is the wall my free-will hits and can not reach beyond: God refuses to allow me the freedom to mess something up so badly that He can't turn it around and make it good.
So God says, "Here is a good thing." Then I come along and seemingly destroy all its potential for good and delude myself from even seeing what I've done for the longest time. Finally, when I'm ready to notice, He comes along and says, "No problem, I can take what you did with this good thing gone bad and actually make it even better than the original design intended!" What a frustration for Satan; what a glory for God; what a relief for me.
This is not to say I should take my failings lightly, nor deny the guilt that will lead to repentance and change, but I should not be paralyzed by fear nor overshadowed by hopelessness.
The Jews asked Jesus, "What shall we do that we may work the works of God?" Jesus answered, "This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He sent." John 6:28-29. Our first work before any other--before anything glitzy or glamorous or that would tempt someone to be impressed with us, (or heaven forbid, we be tempted to be impressed with ourselves) is simple faith in the Man.
In the end, it's not so much about who believes us.
It's about who we believe...
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Rocky Mountain High
Recently I saw a picture of John Denver, and it reminded me of a bit of trivia I once read that may or may not be true, but for some reason has always stuck in my head: John Denver liked to mow his own private mountain property himself...but he had one idiosyncrasy: he liked to mow it naked. Riding around on his mower...maybe wearing that cowboy hat he's almost always pictured wearing, maybe boots, but beyond that... All I can say is, Sunshine on My Shoulder was likely the tamer version of that folksong he brought to fame.
I doubt if it's a true story, but sharing it always gets the same response from other people that it originally got from me. "Eeewww. Yech!"
But then I got to thinking, I realized he could do worse:
What Not to Do at Your Private Mountain Compound
1.) Build bombs
2.) Be married to 5 teenagers simultaneously
3.) Mow naked
See?
Sin is sin, we say. I've said it many times myself, but sometimes I fear I slap that statement down because I'm too lazy to struggle with the idea that some things good and bad come in degrees of goodness and badness. To acknowledge it is to recognize one of the highest pinnacles of faith: faith that a just God knows more than we do about how to measure such things as the heart of man and the far-reaching consequences of both his goodness and his badness.
August 1
As I continue my way through my Ministry Inquiry Book, considering eldership, diaconal ordination, etc. I find the following hymn lyric shared:
When the poor ones who have nothing
share with strangers,
When the thirsty water give
unto us all;
When the crippled in their weakness
strengthen others
Then we know that God still goes
that road with us...
Methodist Hymnal #434
A part of me knows if You call me to any ministry at all, it will be to this type. You've put too much grooming that direction already. My question is: am I really up to being one of the poor ones? No! I'll only be able to do this thing if it is by your hand and your strength and your grace. It will only be if I can do it to your glory. Amen!
I doubt if it's a true story, but sharing it always gets the same response from other people that it originally got from me. "Eeewww. Yech!"
But then I got to thinking, I realized he could do worse:
What Not to Do at Your Private Mountain Compound
1.) Build bombs
2.) Be married to 5 teenagers simultaneously
3.) Mow naked
See?
Sin is sin, we say. I've said it many times myself, but sometimes I fear I slap that statement down because I'm too lazy to struggle with the idea that some things good and bad come in degrees of goodness and badness. To acknowledge it is to recognize one of the highest pinnacles of faith: faith that a just God knows more than we do about how to measure such things as the heart of man and the far-reaching consequences of both his goodness and his badness.
August 1
As I continue my way through my Ministry Inquiry Book, considering eldership, diaconal ordination, etc. I find the following hymn lyric shared:
When the poor ones who have nothing
share with strangers,
When the thirsty water give
unto us all;
When the crippled in their weakness
strengthen others
Then we know that God still goes
that road with us...
Methodist Hymnal #434
A part of me knows if You call me to any ministry at all, it will be to this type. You've put too much grooming that direction already. My question is: am I really up to being one of the poor ones? No! I'll only be able to do this thing if it is by your hand and your strength and your grace. It will only be if I can do it to your glory. Amen!
Monday, February 20, 2012
Who Do You Hear at the Gate?
July 28, 2004
I've thought about trying to start up a retreat center of some kind. A B-&-B type of affair. On the other hand, I wonder whether I should go the eldership-track at church. Other women have, and I know they are a blessing to those around them. Why not me? But I see so many frailties in me: I don't like confrontation, I'm not a go-getter, I'm a female...But now I wonder if I'm doing what I accuse B. [a former relative in ministry] of doing: hiding. Preaching, but hiding behind a big stiff smile when he steps down from the lectern. Am I hiding, too? Only I hide behind a bunch of books? Is the church hungry enough that even a mild-mannered woman could find a place in ministry? I'd like some affirmation from You, God, about these things.
On to the faith-study, and here alongside that ministry intro. this reference seems appropriate. Acts 12 tells the story of Peter being freed from prison supernaturally. Not uncommon in scripture is the between-the-lines message that when women are given first evidence of something miraculous, they are promptly and summarily dismissed--at least in the context of the church's response. The woman at the well was heard confidently enough by her Samaritan neighbors that they came out to see this prophet of whom she spoke, but Mary--after encountering the resurrected Jesus--was not taken seriously, and here, Rhoda receives the same sort of response, too.
Story in a nutshell:
Peter is rescued from prison by an angel, and "when he had considered the thing" chose to go to the house of John Mark's mother, where the believers were praying. When he got there, his knock was answered by a damsel named Rhoda. And when she knew Peter's voice, she opened not the gate for gladness, but ran in, and told how Peter stood before the gate. What a giggle I get here, she hears him and is so excited that she doesn't even open the gate to confirm what her ears are telling her: this is the voice of Peter! She runs to announce him to those gathered. Their response is lackluster at best: And they said unto her, Thou art mad. But she constantly affirmed that it was even so. Then said they, It is his angel. Naturally they know better than she does how to interpret what she just experienced. The pragmatists call her mad; the mystics look for an angel. No one considers that she gave an un-embellished testimony of actual circumstances. Ha! Meanwhile (insert LOL here) Peter stands out there...still knocking. Bless his soul for that persistence. But Peter continued knocking: and when they had opened [the door], and saw him, they were astonished.
Something mystical does strike my soul though, when I think how she ran and gave the good news simply from the hearing of his voice...without even opening the gate to confirm what she heard; nor did she even let him in the gate "for gladness" says the text. She was so overjoyed she literally forgot to bring him inside.
If you're going to make a mistake, let it be for THAT reason.
When I contrast that witness of "hearing" with the demand for "seeing/touching" that Thomas made regarding the risen Christ, I love all the more this little damsel, Rhoda. If there is one I'd love to interview when I first get to heaven, I think I'd choose her over quite a few others.
Not really anything to add to this one, other than that I was seeing the first foundational stones put to my own call to a Rhoda-like ministry. It makes even more sense now than it ever did then that God would put these things together into the same journal entry.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Hitting the Bull's Eye
July 14
I think in our society, it is easy to completely miss dealing with "unconscious sin." It was commonly dealt with in Mosaic Law amongst the Hebrews, but contemporary attitude might attribute such sin to absentmindedness, something that brings a vague unsettled feeling, not so well-defined as to call it shame, but not a happy feeling. Still, it is a light enough burden we shrug off such "sins" as "accidents" easily enough.
But for us to really understand the depths of redemption, we must shove these into the cleansing fountain of Christ's blood, too. No? "Forgive them, for they know not what they do..." He reminds us we are not exempt from personal responsibility simply due to limited vision or lack of personal control. We shy away from poking around in such truths,though, mainly because they feel unjust.
Justice, however, is a tricky thing to assess because it is always larger than our vision. I try to trace its path and ultimately I will always come to the wall of my origin. I'm 40 years old and have never shot anything more dangerous than a BB gun, but I was born a woman in a Western culture in a pacifistic family. Had I been born a boy in certain parts of Africa, I'd have had a gun in my hands by age 10, sent forth to kill my elders' enemies. How much "credit" do I really deserve for not shooting anyone? How much "responsibility" does that child bear alongside me? Things like these demonstrate a little better the depths of redemption from Sin. Not small "s" sin, but capital "s" Sin!
Here's where it comes back to faith. We read that "the just shall live by faith" for "all have sinned." Sinned in this context is a Greek word that specifically translates as "missed the mark." We all have "missed the mark." Such a better statement for laying bare the need. Really embracing Sin means I admit I can no longer hide behind my conscious choices nor behind the idea that my error was "unavoidable" nor that it was a "sacrifice for the greater good." These may all be true; and yet the sin of it remains. We miss the mark...intentionally...unintentionally...for whatever the reason, the arrow did NOT hit the bullseye when it went twinging away from my bow. That is why the glorious news is so very glorious. ALL failures are disabled from killing our hopes for life eternal with our Beloved.
These were my thoughts years ago...today, my mind is on a companion topic. Not the same exactly, but certainly complimentary. I think of the unclean spirit's travels found in the parable series from Matthew 12. This spirit returns to the house (person) from whence it came; and when it returns, it finds the house empty, swept and put in order. Legalism at its finest. Missing the mark by falling short. Not just emptied and scrubbed, but filled up with something new--leaving no place for the unclean spirit to inhabit, THAT would more nearly hit the mark. Unclean here is defined as something "purposed to separate men from the worship of God."
So I shall fill my empty house:
I will not stop with the weeping and the sweeping out of pride, but I will invite humility, too.
I will not merely order out unfaithfulness, but will bring in fealty.
I will not just cast off foolishness, but will also invite wisdom.
I will not simply lock out self-pity, but will open the door to compassion.
I will not just empty myself of selfishness, but will fill myself with kindness.
I will not only bar the door to power-mongering, but in its place will make a feast for love!
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Faith As Duty
High summer in a year when apartment-living meant no garden. No matter. I repurposed the time planting row after row of faith-study.
July 9, 2004
Faith and Duty
In Luke 17, Jesus says to forgive a limitless number of times. What does this do to our faith? The disciples knew such a repeating call to forgive can confuse our view of God, make us wonder if he really does changes hearts, question the deepest things we believe about free-will and pre-destination--drive us down a rabbit hole that gets darker and darker... "Lord, increase our faith," they begged. Indeed!
Old sins committed against me by the hands of others, these revisit me in my weaker moments, in my moments of self-doubt or disillusionment. These are the sins that announce the wrestling matches between forgiveness and trust, matches run on the floormat of my soul. Self-preservation, belief in a loving God preservation--these beg me to close my ears and heart to forgiveness at its purest, most distilled form: forgiveness offered by a call of duty alone, when it is unrequested and unwanted by its recipient. Increase my faith!
What does it take to pull a tree out of hard ground by its roots and fling it into the sea--or rather, to make the tree do it to itself? Faith "as a grain of mustard seed." With that faith: "ye might say unto this sycamine tree, Be thou plucked up by the root, and be thou planted in the sea; and it should obey you." (vs. 6)
But with increase of faith--active faith, faith that uproots trees--comes the temptation to overblow personal power and individual significance. Hence the "but which of you..." placement of the passage immediately after these amazing assurances about faith.
"But which of you, having a servant plowing or feeding cattle, will say unto him by and by, when he is come from the field, Go and sit down to meat? And will not rather say unto him, Make ready wherewith I may sup, and gird thyself, and serve me, till I have eaten and drunken; and afterward thou shalt eat and drink?...So likewise ye, when ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants: we have done that which was our duty to do." (vs. 7-8, 10) So, the question becomes this: can God permit us such a faith? Does our little dinghy think it's a yacht whenever it sees itself spray those splashy miracles all around--the wake that trails its faith? Is that who we are? Or, will we simply look to the next task at hand for us? At the very least, do we pause--just a moment--to bask in the glory of our own awesome faith? Again, single-mindedness is key. It comes round full circle to that.
Interesting that I came across this quote yesterday:
"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power."
Abe Lincoln
Faith. Power. They dance together well or miserably. There is no in-between.
Sometimes, my spirit swells and my heart aches when I hear my Lord's words echo:
"Nevertheless when the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith on the earth?"
Dare He increase our faith in this day?
Even so, I reach for the heritage of royalty within me--a heritage You bought for me--and say:
"Make me fit. Make me fit for increased faith...then bring it!"
July 9, 2004
Faith and Duty
In Luke 17, Jesus says to forgive a limitless number of times. What does this do to our faith? The disciples knew such a repeating call to forgive can confuse our view of God, make us wonder if he really does changes hearts, question the deepest things we believe about free-will and pre-destination--drive us down a rabbit hole that gets darker and darker... "Lord, increase our faith," they begged. Indeed!
Old sins committed against me by the hands of others, these revisit me in my weaker moments, in my moments of self-doubt or disillusionment. These are the sins that announce the wrestling matches between forgiveness and trust, matches run on the floormat of my soul. Self-preservation, belief in a loving God preservation--these beg me to close my ears and heart to forgiveness at its purest, most distilled form: forgiveness offered by a call of duty alone, when it is unrequested and unwanted by its recipient. Increase my faith!
What does it take to pull a tree out of hard ground by its roots and fling it into the sea--or rather, to make the tree do it to itself? Faith "as a grain of mustard seed." With that faith: "ye might say unto this sycamine tree, Be thou plucked up by the root, and be thou planted in the sea; and it should obey you." (vs. 6)
But with increase of faith--active faith, faith that uproots trees--comes the temptation to overblow personal power and individual significance. Hence the "but which of you..." placement of the passage immediately after these amazing assurances about faith.
"But which of you, having a servant plowing or feeding cattle, will say unto him by and by, when he is come from the field, Go and sit down to meat? And will not rather say unto him, Make ready wherewith I may sup, and gird thyself, and serve me, till I have eaten and drunken; and afterward thou shalt eat and drink?...So likewise ye, when ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants: we have done that which was our duty to do." (vs. 7-8, 10) So, the question becomes this: can God permit us such a faith? Does our little dinghy think it's a yacht whenever it sees itself spray those splashy miracles all around--the wake that trails its faith? Is that who we are? Or, will we simply look to the next task at hand for us? At the very least, do we pause--just a moment--to bask in the glory of our own awesome faith? Again, single-mindedness is key. It comes round full circle to that.
Interesting that I came across this quote yesterday:
"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power."
Abe Lincoln
Faith. Power. They dance together well or miserably. There is no in-between.
Sometimes, my spirit swells and my heart aches when I hear my Lord's words echo:
"Nevertheless when the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith on the earth?"
Dare He increase our faith in this day?
Even so, I reach for the heritage of royalty within me--a heritage You bought for me--and say:
"Make me fit. Make me fit for increased faith...then bring it!"
Monday, February 13, 2012
Faith Beyond the Storm
Shortly after posting yesterday's entry, I came across a friend's posting of the following little skit. It's synchronicity of timing to the whole Peter dialogue presses me even deeper into the sense that You are leading along a not-so-rambling course.
Skit Guys on Grace
So I wonder, God, in what ways I am being like the Skit Guys' Peter? Take me to visit those places where I am failing to be one with Your disciples and am instead just moving alongside them. I pray with George Appleton, Lord:
Using my concordance, I'm running a faith study. Here is what I'm finding:
Faith is single-minded. "You cannot serve two masters: for either you will hate one and love the other or else you will be loyal to one and despise the other." Therefore..."do not worry about your life...for your heavenly father knows you need (these) things. Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you." Worry divides and distracts. To that faith-flower I mentioned before, worry is just damaging as the weed of bitterness. Worry is like the cloud that keeps the flower from being kissed by the sun. Here the wind of the Spirit blows in to push away the clouds and make room for the sunbeams to drop down. Our step here is to see those trials as evidence of a blowing Spirit and not as sources for worry.
James 1 helps here. We are to count it for joy when we fall into these patience-testing trials that prompt us to ask God for wisdom. Circumstances make us circle back for wisdom, leading us to make God-pleasing choices when alternatives must be weighed and God's purposes are lost behind the clouds. James says God gives wisdom liberally and without reproach. Without reproach? Why would there be reproach, unless we made a bad wisdom choice beforehand, before we even knew to ask for wisdom. In that case, wisdom might be coming along after shame has already beset us. When the Spirit uncovers us all the way down to our motivation level, there wisdom might feel like it comes bearing reproach, but divine wisdom does not come in such company. It comes with that singularity of purpose: go and sin no more; leaving the past behind to run the good race.
It is interesting to think the Father of Lights demonstrates this single-mindedness. In Him there is "no variation or shadow of turning." Do I walk life like I believe this of His nature? Or do I try to pull Him down from there to a more familiar likeness of my own nature?
July 2
Today in my devotional, faith and its single-mindedness finds a new descriptor: loyalty. Loyalty to God becomes more difficult the more our circumstances seem to indicate He ordered "bad" things for us. Or rather, believing He feels loyalty to usis more challenging. The test always comes there. I have had issues with trust for years. Broken promises when I was young taught me things about trust that I should put away. Loyalty to God must take a different tack. His authority over conditions that affect me must always be received as beneficial for me, whether I "see" how it so or not. This is the hardest love of all...the love that remains loyal, believes loyalty no matter what!
July 3
The story of the Shunammite woman is a good illustration of single-minded faith. (2 Kings 4:8) She did not ask for the child, but received the blessing of the child anyway. But when death took the child, her faith--in anguish, but not bitterness--prompted her to action and the child was restored. Later, God, ever faithful, warned her through the same prophet, Elisha, to leave the land during a time of famine. She had an active faith and a spirit of hospitality and alertness to the activity of God in her world, and these led to first, blessings; then confounding hardship; and finally, even larger blessings. This is the way of faith in the context of measuring loyalty.
July 5
Next in the faith study: Mark 4, the story of Jesus rebuking the storm.
Point to ponder: Jesus was the "author" of this trip. "Let us pass over to the other side," he said. Then he went to sleep in the stern of the boat as a great storm arose-such that the boat was filling with water. The disciples woke him, he calmed the sea, they were amazed. Their approach to Him was "Teacher, carest thou not that we are perishing?" Such phrasing...does it imply they had faith in His ability to deal with the situation, but not in His concern for them? Haven't I faced days when I believed God "could" do something about my storm, but I doubted whether He cared enough to wake up and "fix" things? His response to them: "And he said unto them, Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith?" (Mark 4:40)
As I look back on this entry...I'm not so sure these disciples believed Jesus could stop the storm, but that doesn't change the truth of the observations on their attitudes. Their failure to believe He even wanted to protect them from harm was real, and maybe their amazement that He was so unconcerned about His own safety that He could sleep through a storm so raging it threw wave after wave of water into their boat.
But more than anything, I find I want to grin at His words before they even began the journey: "Let us pass over to the other side." Such loaded words--saying so much more than what they seemed to say: let's sail across the lake. They did indeed pass over to another side.
May I pass over, too, Lord!
Skit Guys on Grace
So I wonder, God, in what ways I am being like the Skit Guys' Peter? Take me to visit those places where I am failing to be one with Your disciples and am instead just moving alongside them. I pray with George Appleton, Lord:
Give me a candle of the Spirit, O God, as I go down into the deeps of my being. Show me the hidden things, the creatures of my dreams, the storehouse of forgotten memories and hurts. Take me down to the spring of my life and tell me my nature and my name. Give me freedom to grow, so that I may become that self, the seed of which you planted in me at my making. Out of the deeps I cry to you, O God.July 1, 2004 Studies in Faith
Using my concordance, I'm running a faith study. Here is what I'm finding:
Faith is single-minded. "You cannot serve two masters: for either you will hate one and love the other or else you will be loyal to one and despise the other." Therefore..."do not worry about your life...for your heavenly father knows you need (these) things. Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you." Worry divides and distracts. To that faith-flower I mentioned before, worry is just damaging as the weed of bitterness. Worry is like the cloud that keeps the flower from being kissed by the sun. Here the wind of the Spirit blows in to push away the clouds and make room for the sunbeams to drop down. Our step here is to see those trials as evidence of a blowing Spirit and not as sources for worry.
James 1 helps here. We are to count it for joy when we fall into these patience-testing trials that prompt us to ask God for wisdom. Circumstances make us circle back for wisdom, leading us to make God-pleasing choices when alternatives must be weighed and God's purposes are lost behind the clouds. James says God gives wisdom liberally and without reproach. Without reproach? Why would there be reproach, unless we made a bad wisdom choice beforehand, before we even knew to ask for wisdom. In that case, wisdom might be coming along after shame has already beset us. When the Spirit uncovers us all the way down to our motivation level, there wisdom might feel like it comes bearing reproach, but divine wisdom does not come in such company. It comes with that singularity of purpose: go and sin no more; leaving the past behind to run the good race.
It is interesting to think the Father of Lights demonstrates this single-mindedness. In Him there is "no variation or shadow of turning." Do I walk life like I believe this of His nature? Or do I try to pull Him down from there to a more familiar likeness of my own nature?
July 2
Today in my devotional, faith and its single-mindedness finds a new descriptor: loyalty. Loyalty to God becomes more difficult the more our circumstances seem to indicate He ordered "bad" things for us. Or rather, believing He feels loyalty to usis more challenging. The test always comes there. I have had issues with trust for years. Broken promises when I was young taught me things about trust that I should put away. Loyalty to God must take a different tack. His authority over conditions that affect me must always be received as beneficial for me, whether I "see" how it so or not. This is the hardest love of all...the love that remains loyal, believes loyalty no matter what!
July 3
The story of the Shunammite woman is a good illustration of single-minded faith. (2 Kings 4:8) She did not ask for the child, but received the blessing of the child anyway. But when death took the child, her faith--in anguish, but not bitterness--prompted her to action and the child was restored. Later, God, ever faithful, warned her through the same prophet, Elisha, to leave the land during a time of famine. She had an active faith and a spirit of hospitality and alertness to the activity of God in her world, and these led to first, blessings; then confounding hardship; and finally, even larger blessings. This is the way of faith in the context of measuring loyalty.
July 5
Next in the faith study: Mark 4, the story of Jesus rebuking the storm.
Point to ponder: Jesus was the "author" of this trip. "Let us pass over to the other side," he said. Then he went to sleep in the stern of the boat as a great storm arose-such that the boat was filling with water. The disciples woke him, he calmed the sea, they were amazed. Their approach to Him was "Teacher, carest thou not that we are perishing?" Such phrasing...does it imply they had faith in His ability to deal with the situation, but not in His concern for them? Haven't I faced days when I believed God "could" do something about my storm, but I doubted whether He cared enough to wake up and "fix" things? His response to them: "And he said unto them, Why are ye so fearful? how is it that ye have no faith?" (Mark 4:40)
As I look back on this entry...I'm not so sure these disciples believed Jesus could stop the storm, but that doesn't change the truth of the observations on their attitudes. Their failure to believe He even wanted to protect them from harm was real, and maybe their amazement that He was so unconcerned about His own safety that He could sleep through a storm so raging it threw wave after wave of water into their boat.
But more than anything, I find I want to grin at His words before they even began the journey: "Let us pass over to the other side." Such loaded words--saying so much more than what they seemed to say: let's sail across the lake. They did indeed pass over to another side.
May I pass over, too, Lord!
Saturday, February 11, 2012
A Habitat for Humanity
Sometimes certain verses inspire me; but other times, the same ones just make me spitting mad.
Verses such as these--and there are a myriad of others--remind me of the simple fact that I cannot do it in my own power. When I was younger, I hoped to grow into a personal strength that enabled me to be these things. I allowed that in time I would grow into my full stature. I begged forgiveness for failure and redoubled my efforts. It all "looked right" on the outside. I went through the right motions; I embraced the right characteristics; I prioritized the right objectives. But all of it...all of it...was wrong.
Maybe that's why the flames of anger shoot higher the older I get. In my younger days, it worked to tell myself--as if I was some reincarnating Hindu all rolled up in one lifetime-- that "next time I won't be the worm I am now." Such self-encouragement, however, echos more and more hollowly with incessant repetition. I began to resonate less with "impossible" verses and more with Lloyd Ogilvie when he says in Ask Him Anything:
It is a hard lesson that seeps into the soul's cracks with persistence and continues to do so for a lifetime, making the potential for discouragement very great at times. Those are the moments when the gift of companionship is so rich, and yet sadly least available in some communities. Some communities dare not touch you when you go THERE! But for me during that moment in time, that hard spring, You supplied human fellowship just so. If You were the wool coat against the last blast of winter, then C. was the bright warm muffler to complement You. You and, by Your commission, she kept me from having to lean too hard on those nearest to me, those who were just as weary as I was.
C.'s card was stuck in my little prayer journal. It must have fallen out and got stuck back in the wrong place. I found it today. I put it back where it belonged, but here in the blog, it falls out of order. It should have showed up in those days of affliction before we moved south to the city. I had a few dear friends who knew some of the heart ache we felt with regards to our church work, heartache we mostly kept private; and one of them sent me this for an encouragement. (Picture every double-exclamation point having a smile drawn under it. If you look closely, you can see one in the picture.)
April 30, 2003
Deb!!
Thanks so much for walking with me tonight!! Wasn't it gorgeous out!!
My prayer to God for you is that out of all the events, trials, times that are occurring right now, somehow HE will see you through. Hang on!!
I appreciate you and all that you have done @ our church this past year. I want you to chew on this: "The carefree spirit of joyous festivity is absent in contemporary society. Apathy, even melancholy, dominate the times." Harvey Cox says modern man has been pressed "hard, so hard toward useful work and rational calculation he has all but forgotten the joy of ecstatic celebration..." I think you do a good job of trying to celebrate!!
I kept this little note. It speaks to me even today. Finding true encouragers is another grace of God. Some seasons of life I've had very few. As I reflected before, and with a sadness--sometimes, being an encourager, particularly to a scapegoat, means putting your own neck on a spiritual community's chopping block. Too much of that thinking like Peter, I guess, for it to be safe to share life's pains too deeply or too publicly. I remember reading where Oswald Chambers said something about being careful about condemning that person who sounds the most blasphemous, because he may be the one who is actually closest to the heart of God. I didn't "get" what he meant by that for a long time. I think I'm finally beginning to see the wisdom of it. That blasphemer. He might be one who is finally wrenching free from his days as a pre-rooster Peter. Watch him with a sacred alertness. See where he goes from here.
I doubt if C. even remembers she wrote that note to me. She did this sort of thing a lot then. I expect she still does. I'm sure she has quite a legacy of encouraging words out there. I pray that YOU fashion such a role of encourager for me one day, too, my Beloved!
Verses such as these--and there are a myriad of others--remind me of the simple fact that I cannot do it in my own power. When I was younger, I hoped to grow into a personal strength that enabled me to be these things. I allowed that in time I would grow into my full stature. I begged forgiveness for failure and redoubled my efforts. It all "looked right" on the outside. I went through the right motions; I embraced the right characteristics; I prioritized the right objectives. But all of it...all of it...was wrong.
Maybe that's why the flames of anger shoot higher the older I get. In my younger days, it worked to tell myself--as if I was some reincarnating Hindu all rolled up in one lifetime-- that "next time I won't be the worm I am now." Such self-encouragement, however, echos more and more hollowly with incessant repetition. I began to resonate less with "impossible" verses and more with Lloyd Ogilvie when he says in Ask Him Anything:
Peter had built his whole relationship with Jesus Christ on his assumed capacity to be adequate. That's why he took his denial of the Lord so hard. His strength, loyalty, and faithfulness were self-generated assets of discipleship. The fallacy in Peter's mind was this: he believed his relationship was dependent on his consistency in producing the qualities he thought had earned him the Lord's approval. Many of us face the same problem. We project into the Lord our own measured standard of acceptance.I begin to realize the very verses that irritate me are the ones You are using to show me where I am refusing to decrease, refusing to allow You to increase.
It is a hard lesson that seeps into the soul's cracks with persistence and continues to do so for a lifetime, making the potential for discouragement very great at times. Those are the moments when the gift of companionship is so rich, and yet sadly least available in some communities. Some communities dare not touch you when you go THERE! But for me during that moment in time, that hard spring, You supplied human fellowship just so. If You were the wool coat against the last blast of winter, then C. was the bright warm muffler to complement You. You and, by Your commission, she kept me from having to lean too hard on those nearest to me, those who were just as weary as I was.
Deb!!
Thanks so much for walking with me tonight!! Wasn't it gorgeous out!!
My prayer to God for you is that out of all the events, trials, times that are occurring right now, somehow HE will see you through. Hang on!!
I appreciate you and all that you have done @ our church this past year. I want you to chew on this: "The carefree spirit of joyous festivity is absent in contemporary society. Apathy, even melancholy, dominate the times." Harvey Cox says modern man has been pressed "hard, so hard toward useful work and rational calculation he has all but forgotten the joy of ecstatic celebration..." I think you do a good job of trying to celebrate!!
I kept this little note. It speaks to me even today. Finding true encouragers is another grace of God. Some seasons of life I've had very few. As I reflected before, and with a sadness--sometimes, being an encourager, particularly to a scapegoat, means putting your own neck on a spiritual community's chopping block. Too much of that thinking like Peter, I guess, for it to be safe to share life's pains too deeply or too publicly. I remember reading where Oswald Chambers said something about being careful about condemning that person who sounds the most blasphemous, because he may be the one who is actually closest to the heart of God. I didn't "get" what he meant by that for a long time. I think I'm finally beginning to see the wisdom of it. That blasphemer. He might be one who is finally wrenching free from his days as a pre-rooster Peter. Watch him with a sacred alertness. See where he goes from here.
I doubt if C. even remembers she wrote that note to me. She did this sort of thing a lot then. I expect she still does. I'm sure she has quite a legacy of encouraging words out there. I pray that YOU fashion such a role of encourager for me one day, too, my Beloved!
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Awakening
This post logs a long journal entry. I'll refrain from much commentary other than to say it references my oldest son's attendance at a grace-focused teen retreat called Awakening. It is the teen version of The Great Banquet, which is similar to Emmaus, Cursillo, etc. if you are familiar with these. I got his permission to share my reflections on his wonderful weekend!
June 27, 2004
We took M. to his Awakening this weekend, and it was everything we'd hoped it would be for him. I am proud and happy for him, and I am awed to be raising Godly children. The weekend was just as wonderful for us, too. We served the Saturday night dinner and attended the evening surprise. I saw a boy there I knew. He was serving as an assistant table leader. He was a kid who had previously been in so much trouble at our school that he was basically told, "find a new school or be expelled." His parents enrolled him in a Christian school, and I hadn't seen him in all the time since. Amazing how God works. I'd felt the unction to pray for this kid a few times over the last year, but didn't sense why specifically. M. told me more about him. This boy's "talk" to the group was one of the most powerful of all the talks give. He talked about what he went through--powerful enough it brought tears to M.'s eyes to remember it. What a reminder that we serve a God who is in the business of changing lives! You hear people talk about how God has changed them, but I guess eventually you get old enough to see both sides of that "change" in a particular individual, and it is stunning. This boy hugged me at one point and whispered in my ear, "I bet you never expected to see me here!" And he was right. He was also thrilled to be able to show himself to me, and to see me receive the hug with open arms.
M. had the chance to speak before the families about how the weekend affected him. He commented that he started the weekend listing three areas in which he wanted God's guidance: study, prayer, and service. Then he said amazingly the first three "talks" were on these very things...and in that order. Boom, boom, boom. His voice shook a bit as he shared the wonder of that God-coincidence, the sense of divine leading and confirmation He felt from it. It gave him chills. Sort of does me, too!
I'm beginning a faith study and found I had my own God-coincidence. I went to look up the word faith in the concordance, but found my eyes quickly land on the word discouragement instead. Discouragement as a topic led me to look at reference verses in Hebrews 11, which is, of course, the "pinnacle" chapter on faith--clever irony there, eh, God? God was feeding me a related word I hadn't thought to consider. Then, as I read about discouragement I realized I did indeed need to consider it before I started reviewing faith, for as my Bible's side note in Hebrews 11 states: "Faith is the foundation for the Christian life and the means by which all unseen things are tested." Discouragement must be dealt with before such testing of the unseen can produce anything eternally good!
So...here are some thoughts on faith now that I am pairing it with a study on discouragement:
First thought, Sarah gets mentioned in the "faith hall of fame" as it is called there in Hebrews. I've been thinking about her a lot lately. I sat at the Table of Sarah--a table chosen for me by faithful saints--when I went to my own Emmaus walk. I had to state my table assignment when I served dinner at M.'s retreat, and that's what brought my own "assignment" to mind. Is my God-coincidence saying that I too will "birth" a ministry later in life?
Second, Jesus is the author and finisher of our faith, and apart from Him, we can do nothing, so my question is: to what degree is my faithfulness dependent on Him? Sounds like totally dependent--yet I retain the power to turn away, and there's the fact that Jesus told the woman who bathed His feet in her tears that her faith saved her. Just what was her faith apart from whatever He made it? And was it a faith in what He was about to do because he'd not faced the cross yet? I know I have the power to turn away from the "heavenly hope" of Hebrews 12, but to what degree am I responsible for turning toward it? His prevenient grace draws me--that is a huge part of the message of all these retreats that grew out of the Cursillo. If Jesus is author and finisher of my faith, and if I can't do anything without Him, then what exactly is my part in this faith thing?
After some study on this, I have come to the following conclusion. God led me to read on both discouragement and faith in Hebrews 11 and 12 to bring me to this image:
Faith is like a beautiful plant--with each of us being empowered to tend such faith-flowers in a garden God loves to stroll, where He takes pleasure and remembers the beautiful days of Eden. But a powerful weed attempts to choke out this faith plant, and that weed is bitterness--it chokes out the growth of faith and spreads itself across the ground. Discouragement seeps into the soil from that bitter root. We may not always have control of the circumstances that fertilize our live, but we can control how we react as garden-tenders. We can choose whether to take that weed seriously enough to hoe it out and burn it, or we can fool ourselves into minimizing its effect on the garden and just let it grow. Sarah came around from derisive laughing when God told her she'd bear a child to having the faith to indeed bear Isaac. The weed, even somewhat grown, can be pulled!
I shall keep these verses in my heart. Circumstances of late have given plenty of opportunity for bitterness to grow and faith to wilt, but I can choose to tend faith and let bitterness wilt instead. For now, I understand this much: He starts a faith-thing; I make a faith vs. discouragement choice about it; and then He finishes based on the outcomes of my choice. Could that be right? Could that define our "part" in the thing?
Habakkuk 3 speaks to me here.
When I wrote this, I didn't quote the Habakkuk reference. Here it is, and it is beautifully apropos for the idea of making the choice of faith in the enigmatic middle of a start to finish faith journey engineered by the hand of God:
Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither [shall] fruit [be] in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and [there shall be] no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation. The LORD God [is] my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' [feet], and he will make me to walk upon mine high places. (vs. 17-19)
June 27, 2004
We took M. to his Awakening this weekend, and it was everything we'd hoped it would be for him. I am proud and happy for him, and I am awed to be raising Godly children. The weekend was just as wonderful for us, too. We served the Saturday night dinner and attended the evening surprise. I saw a boy there I knew. He was serving as an assistant table leader. He was a kid who had previously been in so much trouble at our school that he was basically told, "find a new school or be expelled." His parents enrolled him in a Christian school, and I hadn't seen him in all the time since. Amazing how God works. I'd felt the unction to pray for this kid a few times over the last year, but didn't sense why specifically. M. told me more about him. This boy's "talk" to the group was one of the most powerful of all the talks give. He talked about what he went through--powerful enough it brought tears to M.'s eyes to remember it. What a reminder that we serve a God who is in the business of changing lives! You hear people talk about how God has changed them, but I guess eventually you get old enough to see both sides of that "change" in a particular individual, and it is stunning. This boy hugged me at one point and whispered in my ear, "I bet you never expected to see me here!" And he was right. He was also thrilled to be able to show himself to me, and to see me receive the hug with open arms.
M. had the chance to speak before the families about how the weekend affected him. He commented that he started the weekend listing three areas in which he wanted God's guidance: study, prayer, and service. Then he said amazingly the first three "talks" were on these very things...and in that order. Boom, boom, boom. His voice shook a bit as he shared the wonder of that God-coincidence, the sense of divine leading and confirmation He felt from it. It gave him chills. Sort of does me, too!
I'm beginning a faith study and found I had my own God-coincidence. I went to look up the word faith in the concordance, but found my eyes quickly land on the word discouragement instead. Discouragement as a topic led me to look at reference verses in Hebrews 11, which is, of course, the "pinnacle" chapter on faith--clever irony there, eh, God? God was feeding me a related word I hadn't thought to consider. Then, as I read about discouragement I realized I did indeed need to consider it before I started reviewing faith, for as my Bible's side note in Hebrews 11 states: "Faith is the foundation for the Christian life and the means by which all unseen things are tested." Discouragement must be dealt with before such testing of the unseen can produce anything eternally good!
So...here are some thoughts on faith now that I am pairing it with a study on discouragement:
First thought, Sarah gets mentioned in the "faith hall of fame" as it is called there in Hebrews. I've been thinking about her a lot lately. I sat at the Table of Sarah--a table chosen for me by faithful saints--when I went to my own Emmaus walk. I had to state my table assignment when I served dinner at M.'s retreat, and that's what brought my own "assignment" to mind. Is my God-coincidence saying that I too will "birth" a ministry later in life?
Second, Jesus is the author and finisher of our faith, and apart from Him, we can do nothing, so my question is: to what degree is my faithfulness dependent on Him? Sounds like totally dependent--yet I retain the power to turn away, and there's the fact that Jesus told the woman who bathed His feet in her tears that her faith saved her. Just what was her faith apart from whatever He made it? And was it a faith in what He was about to do because he'd not faced the cross yet? I know I have the power to turn away from the "heavenly hope" of Hebrews 12, but to what degree am I responsible for turning toward it? His prevenient grace draws me--that is a huge part of the message of all these retreats that grew out of the Cursillo. If Jesus is author and finisher of my faith, and if I can't do anything without Him, then what exactly is my part in this faith thing?
After some study on this, I have come to the following conclusion. God led me to read on both discouragement and faith in Hebrews 11 and 12 to bring me to this image:
Faith is like a beautiful plant--with each of us being empowered to tend such faith-flowers in a garden God loves to stroll, where He takes pleasure and remembers the beautiful days of Eden. But a powerful weed attempts to choke out this faith plant, and that weed is bitterness--it chokes out the growth of faith and spreads itself across the ground. Discouragement seeps into the soil from that bitter root. We may not always have control of the circumstances that fertilize our live, but we can control how we react as garden-tenders. We can choose whether to take that weed seriously enough to hoe it out and burn it, or we can fool ourselves into minimizing its effect on the garden and just let it grow. Sarah came around from derisive laughing when God told her she'd bear a child to having the faith to indeed bear Isaac. The weed, even somewhat grown, can be pulled!
I shall keep these verses in my heart. Circumstances of late have given plenty of opportunity for bitterness to grow and faith to wilt, but I can choose to tend faith and let bitterness wilt instead. For now, I understand this much: He starts a faith-thing; I make a faith vs. discouragement choice about it; and then He finishes based on the outcomes of my choice. Could that be right? Could that define our "part" in the thing?
Habakkuk 3 speaks to me here.
When I wrote this, I didn't quote the Habakkuk reference. Here it is, and it is beautifully apropos for the idea of making the choice of faith in the enigmatic middle of a start to finish faith journey engineered by the hand of God:
Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither [shall] fruit [be] in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and [there shall be] no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the LORD, I will joy in the God of my salvation. The LORD God [is] my strength, and he will make my feet like hinds' [feet], and he will make me to walk upon mine high places. (vs. 17-19)
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
These Aren't the Quotes You're Looking for...
Sometimes I read a quote and want to share it because I know someone who "really needs to see this!" It's not a kindness on my part. I fiercely avoid sharing those, and I reprimand myself.
Sometimes I read a quote and have to share it because it puts into words an ache that needed words in my mind but did not yet have them. I share those quotes with an enthusiasm no one understands.
Sometimes I read a quote, and I ache. I don't want to share it because while I think I've come along in its ways, I'm not completely sure about that. Those are the ones that whisper, "Do you really want to grow?" because I know I'm not finished with them yet.
These are some of those quotes:
June 21
What an amazing thing. I'm looking forward to things again. M. [my oldest son--the topic of another post] attends his Awakening retreat soon. We are all settled into the new apartment, so the element of dread is behind us. What is, is; and I am beginning to anticipate what is coming instead of reviewing mournfully what I'm losing. And, last week we got to go on a business trip with S. We went to Norfolk, VA and stayed at a high-rise hotel with windows overlooking the harbor. The kids and I went to the beach as S. worked. We rested and enjoyed each other in the evenings!
I prayed a few weeks ago for security. Actually, lately I've prayed a lot for security, but this one time it seemed God answered, "No one really has thae security you mean, you know. Anyone can die any time."
To which I said, "You're right. I want the same illusion of security that everyone else has." We had a good laugh together. But now that He's given me a measure of that security-illusion, I must take care not to grow complacent.
I don't quite know yet how the juxtaposition of the tension in Manning's words and the tension I feel in journal review fit together. I know somehow they will complement each other; I'm just not sure how that's going to play out yet. I believe it isn't random. But I still wait.
Maybe I'm waiting for the next quote to resonate.
Sometimes I read a quote and have to share it because it puts into words an ache that needed words in my mind but did not yet have them. I share those quotes with an enthusiasm no one understands.
Sometimes I read a quote, and I ache. I don't want to share it because while I think I've come along in its ways, I'm not completely sure about that. Those are the ones that whisper, "Do you really want to grow?" because I know I'm not finished with them yet.
These are some of those quotes:
- The noonday devil of the Christian life is the temptation to lose the inner self while preserving the shell of edifying behavior. Suddenly, I discover that I am ministering to AIDS victims to enhance my resume. I find I renounced ice cream for Lent to lose five excess pounds. I drop hints about the absolute priority of meditation and contemplation to create the impression that I am a man of prayer. I have lost the connection between internal purity of heart and external works of piety...I have fallen victim to what T.S. Eliot calls the greatest sin: to do the right thing for the wrong reason. (p.135)
- Caiaphas...is dedicated to "the people" so individual flesh and blood men are expendable. Caiaphas is dedicated to the nation...The choice usually presented to Christians is not between Jesus and Barabbas. No one wants to appear an obvious murderer. The choice to be careful about is between Jesus and Caiaphas. And Caiaphas can fool us. He is a very "religious" man. (p.140)
- For most of us, it takes a long time for the spirit of freedom to cleanse us of the subtle urges to be admired for our studied goodness. It requires a strong sense of our redeemed selves to pass up the opportunity to appear graceful and good to other people. ( p.153) (The Ragamuffin Gospel, by Brennan Manning.)
June 21
What an amazing thing. I'm looking forward to things again. M. [my oldest son--the topic of another post] attends his Awakening retreat soon. We are all settled into the new apartment, so the element of dread is behind us. What is, is; and I am beginning to anticipate what is coming instead of reviewing mournfully what I'm losing. And, last week we got to go on a business trip with S. We went to Norfolk, VA and stayed at a high-rise hotel with windows overlooking the harbor. The kids and I went to the beach as S. worked. We rested and enjoyed each other in the evenings!
I prayed a few weeks ago for security. Actually, lately I've prayed a lot for security, but this one time it seemed God answered, "No one really has thae security you mean, you know. Anyone can die any time."
To which I said, "You're right. I want the same illusion of security that everyone else has." We had a good laugh together. But now that He's given me a measure of that security-illusion, I must take care not to grow complacent.
I don't quite know yet how the juxtaposition of the tension in Manning's words and the tension I feel in journal review fit together. I know somehow they will complement each other; I'm just not sure how that's going to play out yet. I believe it isn't random. But I still wait.
Maybe I'm waiting for the next quote to resonate.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Why _______?
A childish faith cries, "Why me?" A mature one whispers, "Why this?" I was learning the light year's distance of difference between these two questions.
April 25, 2003
We're letting the house go to foreclosure. Yesterday, we signed a lease on an apartment. I cried a couple of times as we made the arrangements/drove around to see it/ etc. There's not much I can do to decorate it. Can't have a garden. Scott got a job, but he'll be gone 4 days every week--flies out to different places each time, hence the reason we need to move closer to the city and its airport. Even with a local job,we'd have lost the house up here anyway.
How big is this field of brown grass you've got this bird sitting in, God? Scott's finally coming to terms with God having a hand in all this. After he got this job offer he got another offer and three inquiries about his availability all right together, a sign that this long career "dry spell" was surely orchestrated. But now it's my turn...
When I lose my home, a thing that has in a large part defined me and the way I live life, how am I to see myself? Do I slip into comparing myself to others who appear to be doing better than we are? Do I allow myself to get bitter over yet another loss in life? Or, do I keep trying to be joyful, and thankful in all circumstances? I keep clinging to that quote as a mantra: "God wants you to understand that it is a life of faith, not a life of sentimental enjoyment of his blessings."
At least today, I will fight the good fight, fight to remain faithful and ward off bitterness.
Why this instead of why me and then patience would lead me to learn:
April 25, 2003
We're letting the house go to foreclosure. Yesterday, we signed a lease on an apartment. I cried a couple of times as we made the arrangements/drove around to see it/ etc. There's not much I can do to decorate it. Can't have a garden. Scott got a job, but he'll be gone 4 days every week--flies out to different places each time, hence the reason we need to move closer to the city and its airport. Even with a local job,we'd have lost the house up here anyway.
How big is this field of brown grass you've got this bird sitting in, God? Scott's finally coming to terms with God having a hand in all this. After he got this job offer he got another offer and three inquiries about his availability all right together, a sign that this long career "dry spell" was surely orchestrated. But now it's my turn...
When I lose my home, a thing that has in a large part defined me and the way I live life, how am I to see myself? Do I slip into comparing myself to others who appear to be doing better than we are? Do I allow myself to get bitter over yet another loss in life? Or, do I keep trying to be joyful, and thankful in all circumstances? I keep clinging to that quote as a mantra: "God wants you to understand that it is a life of faith, not a life of sentimental enjoyment of his blessings."
At least today, I will fight the good fight, fight to remain faithful and ward off bitterness.
Why this instead of why me and then patience would lead me to learn:
- My oldest son's whole college choice and career future would turn on the change of school our move afforded him.
- I would meet someone who would become one of my dearest friends, who would "randomly" be my next door neighbor and future baby-sitter at that apartment complex.
- My husband's job (that required the move) would launch him into a new, more satisfying and promising career path.
- I would take a job at a Christian school that would bring many influential people across my path and the paths of my children.
Monday, February 6, 2012
It's All About Me
Every day a new "reason" pops up to NOT do this public sharing of 10 years of my prayer journal thing anymore. Today, the voice sent to whisper in my ear says, "You're making it all about you, when it should be about God. You're too self-preoccupied." I read Brennan Manning say "Preoccupation with self is always a a major component of unhealthy guilt and recrimination." Got it. Very true. As he also said, "conversion by concussion" is not productive, and I have attained quite a few lumps on the head over the last few years. I have been gathering a quilt pile that is monstrously tall with these years of accumulation. Why not just go embrace my gardening blog again--not so personal.
Then again, maybe the reason I don't want to share here is because I'm realizing I spent an awful lot of my time sounding like St. Teresa of Avila when she said, "Lord, if this is the way you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few!" But mostly, I remember this was a commissioning...and if David wasn't too good to get self-preoccupied when he wrote all those Psalms of his who am I to think I should be "above such things."
I guess I'll just have good chuckle and get on with things.
For the post-title's inspiration and to share the chuckle, see this:
http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=KKWK67NX
Between that December camp-out on spiritual skid row and the March epiphany came 3 months of looking deeply at the concept of suffering. This is a synopsis of those studies.
Studies on Suffering--ranging from Dec. 2003 through March 2004
"You can't drink grapes!" Oswald Chambers says this. If you're to be used as sacramental wine, you must first be crushed. How many of us "count the cost" as Jesus told us to when we consider venturing into ministry? How might this crushing appear? Moses started toward Egypt with God wanting to kill him and his wife throwing their son's foreskin at him, from the circumcision she had to perform--presumably because he wouldn't?--and calling him a husband of blood (What? Who preaches from that story?) from there to leaving Egypt, trapped at the Red Sea saying, "Do not be afraid. Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord,which He will accomplish for you today." From Exodus 4 to Exodus 14, a lot of cost-counting happened! A lot of wine was produced!
What are my grapes of ministry?
What is the Solomon baby for me? Is there some church program, some ministry that blesses me even as I nurture it? Would I give it up rather than see it be cut in half? How many church splits have I seen where a "mother" wouldn't allow another to have the baby even if it meant the baby dies? Wouldn't put the baby's life above issues of fairness? (Oh, but we have walked living representation of this facet of Your love intimately, You know, God!) It's a cost...
What is the perfume I'd pour on Your hair at any cost, O Lord? Would I take what could bless so many and instead use it only to bless You? Would I do this even if drew much criticism for its neglect of social justice, criticism so logical that I, too, could be convinced to doubt my motivation, that I could be guilted into believing this leap of passionate devotion should draw condemnation? Could I be a blessing just to You and an offense to all others, if such were fitting? It's a cost...
What is the circle of companions to Job for me, O Lord? What kicks the dog that is already down in my spiritual life? Who or what, albeit well-meaning, repeats all the recriminations, the condemnations, and the bitterness that I struggle so valiantly to require get behind me? Who or what takes my darkest, most enigmatic humiliation and tries to make me own it for the wrong reasons? Who am I most expected to bless nonetheless? It is a cost...
The last one, I think as I look back now, is the most recent of the costs counted...
Then again, maybe the reason I don't want to share here is because I'm realizing I spent an awful lot of my time sounding like St. Teresa of Avila when she said, "Lord, if this is the way you treat your friends, no wonder you have so few!" But mostly, I remember this was a commissioning...and if David wasn't too good to get self-preoccupied when he wrote all those Psalms of his who am I to think I should be "above such things."
I guess I'll just have good chuckle and get on with things.
For the post-title's inspiration and to share the chuckle, see this:
http://www.godtube.com/watch/?v=KKWK67NX
Between that December camp-out on spiritual skid row and the March epiphany came 3 months of looking deeply at the concept of suffering. This is a synopsis of those studies.
Studies on Suffering--ranging from Dec. 2003 through March 2004
"You can't drink grapes!" Oswald Chambers says this. If you're to be used as sacramental wine, you must first be crushed. How many of us "count the cost" as Jesus told us to when we consider venturing into ministry? How might this crushing appear? Moses started toward Egypt with God wanting to kill him and his wife throwing their son's foreskin at him, from the circumcision she had to perform--presumably because he wouldn't?--and calling him a husband of blood (What? Who preaches from that story?) from there to leaving Egypt, trapped at the Red Sea saying, "Do not be afraid. Stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord,which He will accomplish for you today." From Exodus 4 to Exodus 14, a lot of cost-counting happened! A lot of wine was produced!
What are my grapes of ministry?
What is the Solomon baby for me? Is there some church program, some ministry that blesses me even as I nurture it? Would I give it up rather than see it be cut in half? How many church splits have I seen where a "mother" wouldn't allow another to have the baby even if it meant the baby dies? Wouldn't put the baby's life above issues of fairness? (Oh, but we have walked living representation of this facet of Your love intimately, You know, God!) It's a cost...
What is the perfume I'd pour on Your hair at any cost, O Lord? Would I take what could bless so many and instead use it only to bless You? Would I do this even if drew much criticism for its neglect of social justice, criticism so logical that I, too, could be convinced to doubt my motivation, that I could be guilted into believing this leap of passionate devotion should draw condemnation? Could I be a blessing just to You and an offense to all others, if such were fitting? It's a cost...
What is the circle of companions to Job for me, O Lord? What kicks the dog that is already down in my spiritual life? Who or what, albeit well-meaning, repeats all the recriminations, the condemnations, and the bitterness that I struggle so valiantly to require get behind me? Who or what takes my darkest, most enigmatic humiliation and tries to make me own it for the wrong reasons? Who am I most expected to bless nonetheless? It is a cost...
The last one, I think as I look back now, is the most recent of the costs counted...
Friday, February 3, 2012
Clarifying Character, Part 2
Today, I'll make little commentary on these past journal entries, other than to say it is similar to yesterday's post, detailing another time God did a major clarification of my understanding of His character and the nature of my relationship with Him.
December 1, 2003
It has been a very trying time these past few months. Despite working two different insurance jobs recently, my husband is jobless again. My thyroid developed a growth quickly, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's disease and had to have the thyroid removed, all this while trying to work full-time. My oldest son developed ITP and had to spend some time at Riley Children's Hospital. He's ok now, but the 6 weeks of dealing with it were frightening.
We began working to increase our giving. We'd heard a sermon recently in which we were told to "Test God. Look and see. Try Him and know that He is good." Test Him and see if He won't replenish your storehouse. Our storehouse has many types of empty shelves. We've been giving the 10% and while we are managing to keep ourselves at a teeter on the edge of financial collapse, we haven't fallen over the cliff's edge. Is this the replenishment he means?
Psalm 145 says, "You open Your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing. The Lord is near all who call on Him, all who call on Him in truth. He fulfills the desires of those who fear Him; He hears their cry and saves them."
How do I equate my personal experience with such language? My first thought is: God is unjust. No, my first thought is I am doing something wrong, but this time I really believe (like my good old buddy, Job) I've walked blameless before the Lord. Can I call God a liar? No. So I am silent. I just won't speak to Him. (That lasted all of about a day.) But, I'd rather stop looking for Him to come through for me than to have His honor called into question over every circumstance.
Scott and I talked about it. He believes less in an intervening God than I do, so God "raining on the just and the unjust" kind of works both directions for him--good or bad, all the same. I thought about this, and it does get God off the hook, but it also diminishes personal relationship. I've experienced too much evidence of personal relationship to embrace that philosophy so I wait for further light, tithe again, and refine my prayer, "God, now I do this because it is right, and not because I expect replenishment."
And straightaway, we are robbed! Someone breaks into our car, steals my husband's wallet and our digital camera. I pray I'll have a Job-like finish at the end of all this!
I spent the next 3 months and 20 journal pages exploring the idea of suffering. Then in early March, I had my epiphany:
March 4, 2004
Quoting My Utmost for His Highest again. October 31--
What a profound risk He took, it seems to me. How amazing the way He worked our lives in counterpoint to bring us both to this same faith peak. His next statement after He asked this same question of Peter was, "Then feed my sheep."
He gave me affirming imagery to go with this idea, too. Driving along just the other day, I saw a glowing red cardinal sitting near the road in a sea of dead brown grass. Had the cardinal been sitting in that field in spring, surrounded by the sheen of fresh grass and the brilliance of wildflowers, its color would have had competition and I might never have seen it. But perched in that expanse of drabness, his colors were startling. So it is with a child of God if she waits patiently despite the fields of dead grass.
Ever since that time, the cardinal has been my ever faithful sign of encouragement in times of winter...a gift from the God who proved abundantly faithful after all!
December 1, 2003
It has been a very trying time these past few months. Despite working two different insurance jobs recently, my husband is jobless again. My thyroid developed a growth quickly, I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's disease and had to have the thyroid removed, all this while trying to work full-time. My oldest son developed ITP and had to spend some time at Riley Children's Hospital. He's ok now, but the 6 weeks of dealing with it were frightening.
We began working to increase our giving. We'd heard a sermon recently in which we were told to "Test God. Look and see. Try Him and know that He is good." Test Him and see if He won't replenish your storehouse. Our storehouse has many types of empty shelves. We've been giving the 10% and while we are managing to keep ourselves at a teeter on the edge of financial collapse, we haven't fallen over the cliff's edge. Is this the replenishment he means?
Psalm 145 says, "You open Your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing. The Lord is near all who call on Him, all who call on Him in truth. He fulfills the desires of those who fear Him; He hears their cry and saves them."
How do I equate my personal experience with such language? My first thought is: God is unjust. No, my first thought is I am doing something wrong, but this time I really believe (like my good old buddy, Job) I've walked blameless before the Lord. Can I call God a liar? No. So I am silent. I just won't speak to Him. (That lasted all of about a day.) But, I'd rather stop looking for Him to come through for me than to have His honor called into question over every circumstance.
Scott and I talked about it. He believes less in an intervening God than I do, so God "raining on the just and the unjust" kind of works both directions for him--good or bad, all the same. I thought about this, and it does get God off the hook, but it also diminishes personal relationship. I've experienced too much evidence of personal relationship to embrace that philosophy so I wait for further light, tithe again, and refine my prayer, "God, now I do this because it is right, and not because I expect replenishment."
And straightaway, we are robbed! Someone breaks into our car, steals my husband's wallet and our digital camera. I pray I'll have a Job-like finish at the end of all this!
I spent the next 3 months and 20 journal pages exploring the idea of suffering. Then in early March, I had my epiphany:
March 4, 2004
Quoting My Utmost for His Highest again. October 31--
God wants you to understand that it is a life of faith, not a life of sentimental enjoyment of His blessings. God has frequently to knock the bottom board out of your experience...you are worth far more to Him now than you were in your days of conscious delight and thrilling testimony...Faith by its very nature must be tried, and the real trial of faith is not that we find it difficult to trust God, but that God's character has to be cleared in our minds...Faith in the Bible is faith in God against everything that contradicts Him--I will remain true to God's character whatever He may do."Scott and I both realized about a week ago that this is the "project" God has been working on for the past several years with us. He removed everything that might complicate the question: "Do you love Me?" Unconditional love would be all that was left, if anything was to be left at all. And there it was! We loved Him back!
What a profound risk He took, it seems to me. How amazing the way He worked our lives in counterpoint to bring us both to this same faith peak. His next statement after He asked this same question of Peter was, "Then feed my sheep."
He gave me affirming imagery to go with this idea, too. Driving along just the other day, I saw a glowing red cardinal sitting near the road in a sea of dead brown grass. Had the cardinal been sitting in that field in spring, surrounded by the sheen of fresh grass and the brilliance of wildflowers, its color would have had competition and I might never have seen it. But perched in that expanse of drabness, his colors were startling. So it is with a child of God if she waits patiently despite the fields of dead grass.
Ever since that time, the cardinal has been my ever faithful sign of encouragement in times of winter...a gift from the God who proved abundantly faithful after all!
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Clarifying Character Pt. 1
I laughed out loud, because I so easily saw myself in him. Brennan Manning, in The Ragamuffin Gospel, reassured me, reminded me not to panic over my foibles:
Today, I do not look back at the old journal. For just this one entry, I stay with the Now. But it is as preface to a mountaintop post from the old journal; one I'll post next. Twice in the last decade, God has given me a startling shake to the end that His character was clarified for me. Tomorrow, I'll share the earlier one that related to a call to suffering; today I look at what I've forgotten about Your grace.
The epiphany came shortly after that request I made a few days ago--when I tried to ask so eloquently, so poetically for God to teach me about His wrath.
"I can handle it!" I breathed, as I wafted incense toward my nose and hugged my prayer shawl close. And He said, "Teaching you about my wrath would be like putting a loaded gun in the hand of a 3-year-old!" My mystical moment, my shoulder brush with the Gnostic--all ground to a quick halt.
"Oh, ok..." Soberly, I reached for the Manning book. It wasn't long before I began to see what Almighty God meant. Manning speaks of the grace-hugging Christian, the one who:
Repent. Repent. Repent.
And then I read this:
I hate to admit it, but I think in actual practice, my perceived One and Only would look down on my own paltry attempts at gifting toward Him and say something like, "You didn't cut that edge quite straight there, did you? And does that grass really look realistic, that shade of green?"
The thing is, times past I knew You to be a God like Manning describes. Good grief, I literally used the same example when it showed up in my own everyday life:
http://sdmen.blogspot.com/2006/03/and-gift-goes-on.html
How did I forget You? How did I lose You?
What Pied Piper took me wandering down a road where human love is able to outshine divine?
Thank You for helping me remember.
Distracted by a disturbing phone call, I left home to give a lecture to the inmates of Trenton State Penitentiary and began with the outrageous greeting, "Well, it's nice to see so many of you here."...And so it goes. p.83We all mess up. But what do You do with that, God?
Today, I do not look back at the old journal. For just this one entry, I stay with the Now. But it is as preface to a mountaintop post from the old journal; one I'll post next. Twice in the last decade, God has given me a startling shake to the end that His character was clarified for me. Tomorrow, I'll share the earlier one that related to a call to suffering; today I look at what I've forgotten about Your grace.
The epiphany came shortly after that request I made a few days ago--when I tried to ask so eloquently, so poetically for God to teach me about His wrath.
"I can handle it!" I breathed, as I wafted incense toward my nose and hugged my prayer shawl close. And He said, "Teaching you about my wrath would be like putting a loaded gun in the hand of a 3-year-old!" My mystical moment, my shoulder brush with the Gnostic--all ground to a quick halt.
"Oh, ok..." Soberly, I reached for the Manning book. It wasn't long before I began to see what Almighty God meant. Manning speaks of the grace-hugging Christian, the one who:
utterly rejecting the God who catches people by surprise in a moment of weakness--the God incapable of smiling at our awkward mistakes, the God who does not accept a seat at our human festivities, the God who says "You will pay for that," the God incapable of understanding that children will always get dirty and be forgetful, the God always snooping after sinners. p.38-9And I realize I have drifted into "seeing" that God as The One and Only, the One I'm supposed to love with all my heart and soul and mind. No wonder I'm conflicted! Good grief, I'M a better dispenser of grace than the God I've been trying to accept as the Reality.
Repent. Repent. Repent.
And then I read this:
Imagine a little boy trying to help his father with some household work, or making his mother a gift. The help may be nothing more than getting in the way, and the gift may be totally useless, but the love behind it is simple and pure, and the loving response it evokes is virtually uncontrollable. I am sure it is this way between our Abba and us.
I hate to admit it, but I think in actual practice, my perceived One and Only would look down on my own paltry attempts at gifting toward Him and say something like, "You didn't cut that edge quite straight there, did you? And does that grass really look realistic, that shade of green?"
The thing is, times past I knew You to be a God like Manning describes. Good grief, I literally used the same example when it showed up in my own everyday life:
http://sdmen.blogspot.com/2006/03/and-gift-goes-on.html
How did I forget You? How did I lose You?
What Pied Piper took me wandering down a road where human love is able to outshine divine?
Thank You for helping me remember.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Who Do You Think You Are?
Depression has struck a venomous blow to me today--largely it is hormonal as I change some meds hopefully for the better, but to some extent it involves an identity crisis finally coming to a head.
When I was young, sharp-witted, driven, focused, enthusiastic, and goal-oriented, there were certain people I hardly tossed a passing glance. People I'd roll my eyes at as I zoomed by them, my to-do list flapping in my self-generated breeze.
They were the woebegone. The chronically ill with a smorgasbord of symptoms. The whiners. The excuse-makers. The wallflowers, and not because they couldn't find a dance partner, but because they really just wanted to stand and mumble into the wall.
But God, with His ironic sense of humor and His ruggedly chastening hand, has permitted me over these last 5 or 6 years to become one of their number.
She who would not touch a leper has leprosy.
I've joined their ranks. While I don't have people treating me with the same lack of grace and dignity I once afforded the chronically weak and puny; I make up for it by mercilessly canceling their compassion. I heap disgust on myself like a self-flagellating monk lays stripes on his own back!
God teaches some people compassion by putting someone in their path who requires patience and compassion--like a special needs child or a senility-drifting, aging parent. I had steeled myself for the likes of such, should God ever lay such a demand upon the stony ground of my heart. Somewhere deep inside I knew it was stony in this respect.
I was NOT, however, prepared for that "special needs case" to be me. I was NOT prepared to have to give myself those encouraging words again and again and again, to repeat the grace and mercy and patience and comfort day in day out--toward myself. For others, fine. I'd work it up. For myself, it's get out the whip, beat the body into action, you lazy lout!
Nope, I was NOT prepared to stop rolling my eyes and look on the woebegone with pity when it involved using a mirror. You can take breaks, vacations from people who bring you down. You can't take a vacation from yourself. You're with you all the time! So I was thinking I might suffocate with this new knowledge.
Read the book.
Are you kidding!?! The book seems to be one of the triggers in all this bleakness.
Read the book anyway.
I'm reading the book...
June 14, 2003
I read something worth meditation and reflection. " 'Ask God for the Holy Spirit on the word of Jesus Christ.'(Luke 10:13) The Holy Spirit is the one who makes real in you all that Jesus did for you." (My Utmost for His Highest, p. 161.)
Chambers speaks of asking God for spiritual things out of poverty--blessed are the poor in spirit, as the Beatitudes say. If we ask out of lust, we're still seeing some desirable end; if we ask out of poverty we're just desiring escape from desperation. But many of us won't do this.
I had the thought occur to me, that old cliche-quote, "Living lives of quiet desperation." Lately, I haven't lived in quiet desperation. I've lived very vocal, loud desperation. You know, God! But I can relate to the idea of not being willing to ask out of abject poverty. Sometimes, it is easier to skip asking out of deep need, because then you don't have to deal with the bitterness of not receiving.
If I'm honest, I'll admit there have been times when I've felt I asked out of desperation, out of poverty, only to be ignored and left to sort out the dregs of bitterness on my own. Does this mean I never really hit "pauper" status? Did the bitterness mean I thought I "deserved" better? Maybe my feeling that You don't care enough to make a difference shows I'm not a total pauper yet. I can still turn away. I make the potential of Your care and concern serve as a measure of whether I'm willing to beg. If You disdain me, I'll turn away. A true beggar would hang on Your robe, even if you were to drag me along as You continued to walk away from me, I'd cling anyway.
Help me to be like the woman who would beg crumbs under the table even after You basically called her a dog.
Bless me, O God.
Youth wait impatiently for sunset.
The aged rise early and await the dawn.
But I stand with the noon day sun beating on my head;
wondering which way I turn
for relief.
I wrote this post and this poem long ago, but it speaks to me again now. No wonder You told me to go to it and read. It very much fits my need today. Again with the measuring stick; and I see what I have learned in the harder, narrower passes of life. I no longer stand in that noonday sun of life, and while I'm not exactly old, I do know what it is to wake hours before dawn, tired but too sore to sleep any longer so I rise and await the day with a cup of joe, a cat on my lap, and a Bible.
I think I'm watching last vestigial limbs of pride wither away and fall off. If leprosy it is, then it is a leprosy that takes away things that should be gone anyway.
Now I am the lost lamb, lying in the ditch--wishing but not presuming You'd actually leave the 99 to come find me.
Now I'm ready for crumbs.
What does it say again about the poor in spirit?
Oh yes...theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Those are pretty good crumbs, God.
Pretty good crumbs.
When I was young, sharp-witted, driven, focused, enthusiastic, and goal-oriented, there were certain people I hardly tossed a passing glance. People I'd roll my eyes at as I zoomed by them, my to-do list flapping in my self-generated breeze.
They were the woebegone. The chronically ill with a smorgasbord of symptoms. The whiners. The excuse-makers. The wallflowers, and not because they couldn't find a dance partner, but because they really just wanted to stand and mumble into the wall.
But God, with His ironic sense of humor and His ruggedly chastening hand, has permitted me over these last 5 or 6 years to become one of their number.
She who would not touch a leper has leprosy.
I've joined their ranks. While I don't have people treating me with the same lack of grace and dignity I once afforded the chronically weak and puny; I make up for it by mercilessly canceling their compassion. I heap disgust on myself like a self-flagellating monk lays stripes on his own back!
God teaches some people compassion by putting someone in their path who requires patience and compassion--like a special needs child or a senility-drifting, aging parent. I had steeled myself for the likes of such, should God ever lay such a demand upon the stony ground of my heart. Somewhere deep inside I knew it was stony in this respect.
I was NOT, however, prepared for that "special needs case" to be me. I was NOT prepared to have to give myself those encouraging words again and again and again, to repeat the grace and mercy and patience and comfort day in day out--toward myself. For others, fine. I'd work it up. For myself, it's get out the whip, beat the body into action, you lazy lout!
Nope, I was NOT prepared to stop rolling my eyes and look on the woebegone with pity when it involved using a mirror. You can take breaks, vacations from people who bring you down. You can't take a vacation from yourself. You're with you all the time! So I was thinking I might suffocate with this new knowledge.
Read the book.
Are you kidding!?! The book seems to be one of the triggers in all this bleakness.
Read the book anyway.
I'm reading the book...
June 14, 2003
I read something worth meditation and reflection. " 'Ask God for the Holy Spirit on the word of Jesus Christ.'(Luke 10:13) The Holy Spirit is the one who makes real in you all that Jesus did for you." (My Utmost for His Highest, p. 161.)
Chambers speaks of asking God for spiritual things out of poverty--blessed are the poor in spirit, as the Beatitudes say. If we ask out of lust, we're still seeing some desirable end; if we ask out of poverty we're just desiring escape from desperation. But many of us won't do this.
I had the thought occur to me, that old cliche-quote, "Living lives of quiet desperation." Lately, I haven't lived in quiet desperation. I've lived very vocal, loud desperation. You know, God! But I can relate to the idea of not being willing to ask out of abject poverty. Sometimes, it is easier to skip asking out of deep need, because then you don't have to deal with the bitterness of not receiving.
If I'm honest, I'll admit there have been times when I've felt I asked out of desperation, out of poverty, only to be ignored and left to sort out the dregs of bitterness on my own. Does this mean I never really hit "pauper" status? Did the bitterness mean I thought I "deserved" better? Maybe my feeling that You don't care enough to make a difference shows I'm not a total pauper yet. I can still turn away. I make the potential of Your care and concern serve as a measure of whether I'm willing to beg. If You disdain me, I'll turn away. A true beggar would hang on Your robe, even if you were to drag me along as You continued to walk away from me, I'd cling anyway.
Help me to be like the woman who would beg crumbs under the table even after You basically called her a dog.
Bless me, O God.
Youth wait impatiently for sunset.
The aged rise early and await the dawn.
But I stand with the noon day sun beating on my head;
wondering which way I turn
for relief.
I wrote this post and this poem long ago, but it speaks to me again now. No wonder You told me to go to it and read. It very much fits my need today. Again with the measuring stick; and I see what I have learned in the harder, narrower passes of life. I no longer stand in that noonday sun of life, and while I'm not exactly old, I do know what it is to wake hours before dawn, tired but too sore to sleep any longer so I rise and await the day with a cup of joe, a cat on my lap, and a Bible.
I think I'm watching last vestigial limbs of pride wither away and fall off. If leprosy it is, then it is a leprosy that takes away things that should be gone anyway.
Now I am the lost lamb, lying in the ditch--wishing but not presuming You'd actually leave the 99 to come find me.
Now I'm ready for crumbs.
What does it say again about the poor in spirit?
Oh yes...theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Those are pretty good crumbs, God.
Pretty good crumbs.
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