Tuesday, January 31, 2012

FInding a Measure of Life's Renaissance

Today as I celebrate my own birthday, I read about the day of my father's birthday years ago.
June 12, 2003
Today is my dad's birthday.  I must remember to call him.  E [middle son] found a video of our family that I haven't seen for a long time.  It has Mom in it.  I sure miss her.[Mom died of cancer in 1995.]  Can't wait to see her again in heaven. 

Lately, I've been reading a book called Desperate for You.  It is a 30-day worship adventure.  Plus, I'm working on my Ministry Inquiry Binder.  Hope to begin my sessions soon with Pastor Mike to see whether the deaconess ministry might even yet have a chance to get rolling.

I spent some time meditating on the front porch as it rained this morning at about 5 am.  I realized that a rainy dawn progresses a lot like my faith and my awareness of You seems to here lately:

The Dawning of Realization
Sometimes does not come
as a sudden piercing beam of morning light.
Rather,
like a rainy morning.
The stillness of night broken
by a spattering of quiet noise
swelling until it is bullets on the pavement
unseen, yet observed.
At first, deniable;
later, unavoidable
as channels gurgle in the gutters.
Such a dawn does not burst with color.
By nature
It creeps...
a hint of sheen
to kiss a wet sidewalk.
Flowers take shape, then trees.
Definition, contrast
are gradual things
Coming to foreshadow colors
of a day that hopes to be.
I think this might be the first poetic entry into this journal review-- life did not lend lend itself to poetry much in those days, that came later. The accompanying photo came later, too.    Funny, just this morning, I saw sunlight overflow the lip of a cloud like this, felt myself called to notice the loveliness of it.

Sunlight that clouds dare not block.  Hope that overreaches the slow dawn of that late spring morning years ago.  I'll take that for a birthday gift from Thee, my Beloved!

Thursday, January 26, 2012

No Not One

Your word, O God, gives such sweet direction to my soul!  Even as I drink down the bitter cup of certain memories, drink to its gritty dregs, I find You reminding me of this:  Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you: But rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ's sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joyI Peter 4:12-13

In case, I might get the idea that my circumstance should be somehow unique I have those verses, and God brings this across my path today, too:
http://matthewpaulturner.net/jesus-needs-new-pr/spiritual-abuse-must-stop-a-blog-post/

...and yes, despite the fact that I quoted Rob Bell just a few posts ago and just because God spoke to me through those words, this in no way blinds me to the fact that his church is not above inflicting similar hurts on the least of its brethren, that the giving and receiving of abuse can be universal for "As it is written, There is none righteous, no, not one. " Romans 3:10.

So there it is...no wonder the Psalmist begged God "Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if [there be any] wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting."  Psalm 139:23-24.
Not an obsession; but neither a thing to neglect.
May 23
Today I stand before Your throne and petition Your help, O God.  I flounder over what to ask from You.  Lately, we have been in a season of constant trial.  Scott's job that looked so promising pays far less than a living wage [an insturance sales job that didn't prove as profitable in reality as it did on paper, yet did lead later to a better insurance job.  I didn't have that perspective yet here, though.]  My little one's bike getting stolen, te septic showing signs of needing replacement sooner rather than later. I feel like I'm living the life of some strange victim, not my life. 

Then there's the guilt of even allowing myself to dwell on these things.  A good Christian would just cling to Matthew 6:25, right?  So I am ashamed, but still wondering what You're doing.  By all appearances, the answer would be You are doing nothing, but I don't see why yet.  SO I go before You with my scrappy file of scripture promises and pull out Psalm 126.  "Those who sow in tears shall weep in joy.  He who continually goes forth weeping, bearing seed for sowing, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him."  (v. 5-6)We're weeping as we sow, God...may the rest of the verse prove true.

Ten years later I can say:  it did!

God Will Perfect...

"You will perfect that which concerns me. Your mercy, O Lord, endures forever; do not forsake the works of your hands."  Psalm 138:7-8
What  a balm this verse is for me on those frequent days when I am so aware of what a work in progress I am!  That You promise to perfect what concerns me becomes the foundation of many a profession of faith!

"Where there is no [prophetic]vision, the people cast of restraint." Prov. 29:18.  And thinking of this verse, Oswald Chambers quotes a poem:
"Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,
or what's a heaven for?"
What indeed!

May 11, 2003
Today is Mother's Day.  The church children are running the services, so I have no obligation to do anything there today.  I'm having a much more leisurely Sunday morning as a result. 
As I sit and look out the window, I notice the day is brightly sunny and cool with a strong wind blowing through the new spring leaves on the trees. 
I asked God last night to give me an evaluation of my motherhood.  Am I too giving?  Am I making them selfish?  Or is my giving doing what I hope it is:  showing them Your gracious nature? 
May I be like the leaves on those trees, God.  When the wind of your spirit blows near me, may I be an indication of that blowing.  May the brightness of your son flicker across me as I, too, dance at the touch of each gust.
Love...Debbie

 Enough of processing gloom, time for a spot of sunlight to return.
  I really am fashioned to be an optimistic person. I believe You when You tell me so...else I never could have borne to rinse these stains in Your fount, my Beloved.
The cloth is so much lighter now.
 It floats bright in the water--no more weight of sorrow smudging it.
The garment of praise now hangs in that same mother-breeze, drying.
Ready for wear again.
Ready for dancing.
I give my little journal a fond pat as I store it back on the shelf today.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

I Set Before Thee...

See, I have set before thee this day life and good, and death and evil;  Deut. 30:15

Surprise number one from this journal review venture:  dread.  It's such a pretty little journal, but I find sometimes I don't want to touch it. 
I didn't expect it to churn up things I still needed to forgive...things to forgive myself.  I didn't expect it to be filled with a wisdom and a grace I thought I only "achieved" later in life.  If I had that much "access" to Thee back then, why did I nevertheless flounder, as I did?  Now-me has been attributing floundering and lapses of faith to the fact that I was lower on the learning curve about Your love.  Now I've having to face a stark truth:  all my faith is of Thee, it is in Thy hands whether I handle hardship with faith and dignity.  Of myself, I can do nothing.  I've never embraced this truth as fully as I'm finding You press me into it now. 

Practically speaking, I read this: if prone to self-criticism over perceived failures, Kristen Neff, a life-development specialist at the University of Texas, suggests the following:
"Imagine you are an empathetic friend and think, What would this person write to me about this situation?  What would she say about what I'm going through...We've found that most people have a much easier time being self-compassionate if they pretend to be someone else."  Reader's Digest, Feb 2012, p. 125.

Time to open the dread book anyway...and get out the hand puppets.

April 19, 2003
Great analogy from The Case for Faith by Lee Strobel.
[A man] reaches in his pocket and draws out his hand.  "Okay, I"m holding something.  Do you know what it is?"
I venture a guess: "A coin."
"But you don't know for sure," he said.  "That's your opinion.  Our faith is not our opinion.  Let me tell you that I've got a quarter in my hand.  Do you believe that?"
"Sure," I said.
"I'm telling you it's true, but you haven't seen it.  That's faith.  Hebrews says faith is the evidence of things not seen."
Anderson [the man] smiled.  "Watch as I completely destroy your faith."  With that, he opened his hand to reveal a quarter.  "Now it's no longer faith, it's knowledge." (p.238)
I wonder what faith will be like in heaven?  Won't we see the quarter?  Is faith only a component of this life--and hope, I suppose.  I Corinthians 13 speaks of the great three:  faith, hope and charity.  One thing I know from the passage:  of the three that remain--faith, hope and love--the greatest is love.  Love is greater than faith.  That would knock some of the wind of the glassy-eyed, ever smiling, faith shield-shaking types out there.

As I look back over this and consider my reflections on opinion, faith, hope and knowledge, I review the Biblical text that I mentioned.  Now, this verse jumps out at me:  Charity never faileth: but whether [there be] prophecies, they shall fail; whether [there be] tongues, they shall cease; whether [there be] knowledge, it shall vanish away.  I Cr. 13:8 
When I considered it in my journal, I didn't hit me that not only prophecies and tongues (faith and hope and exhortation in my understanding) will cease and fail; but knowledge, too, will vanish away. 

It's not that the quarter will become visible...the quarter will vanish.  I am humbled to realize how limited even yet is my comprehension of the reality of that Heavenly City. 
But I can also see how the evaporation of knowledge might be a gift of heaven, too.

I think of my last little chuckle about faith-healing in this entry. 
It reminds me that the litany of self-absorbed, faulty communities that have strangely oppressed my worship over the years--this litany didn't start with that place that hyper-focused on usefulness above value as I found in reviewing this journal.  It actually reaches much further back in my life.  I'm remembering a previous group of which I was an enthusiastic member for a season.  I was trapped in the teachings of a prosperity ministry. 

My perceptions may have been skewed, but my own progression into membership began with a delightful honeymoon era in which many promises were whispered to me in that marriage bed:  if I but had the faith, I could become healthy, wealthy, influential, a powerhouse of faith, made evident by the fact that my life represented God's best desires for me:  desires made real through the accumulation of all this world had to offer of luxury and easy living. 

I studied faith to show myself approved; I waited to show myself worthy.

But all my streams dried up, and this new "spouse" for all his sweet whisperings now appeared impossible to satisfy.  Finally, when my infant son was lying in the ER extremely ill with a fever so high the medical staff could not stop his seizures and only a respirator kept him breathing--when the nurse came to me with the news that he likely would never breathe on his own again, preparing me for that moment when I would have to make a pull-the-plug decision--at that moment I became blindly furious with my God.

"I've done everything you asked of me.  If there was some way my faith wasn't as good as the faith of all these you're extravagantly blessing with trouble-free lives (I thought here of the people who were representative leaders of this faith movement) then why haven't you told me what is wrong with my faith?  Why don't I rate that same secret knowledge of how to work a faith that satisfies your demands?  Am I really missing the point so much that I will lose my son over it?!?  How can you be so cruel!!"  I was angrier than I'd ever been.

Within minutes, a precious colleague--a devout and humble friend of God--came to sit with me in my vigil.  I was beyond hiding anguish behind a gloss of competent religiosity. I wept as I told him how much I realized my God disapproved of me and how much I despaired of this--for I'd been taught indirectly that this was the only possible assumption I could make in the face of such devastating loss.  If the hardship were financial, then throwing a little more money at "leadership" would surely garner blessings, but this...well, this went beyond all that.

And my friend responded with talk of Job. 
No one had mentioned Job to me in years. 
In fact, I joke now that the Bible used by this faith-focus group where I resided for that season, it was a Bible about 14 verses long, functionally speaking.  But he spoke of Job, and I felt like thunder clapped in my soul.  I began to be healed.  Scales began to drop from my eyes that day as I began to remember things I already knew but had consciously put aside in order to embrace this paradigm that looked so broad and rich and was actually terribly confining and full of pride and self-absorption. 
Did I really believe God couldn't bless a person through their suffering?
Did I really believe poverty equaled a bad witness?
Did I really believe God changed his mind and now only promoted temporal blessings for His people?
Did God really intend to punish my weak faith by taking my son away from me?

Apparently not...

Saturday, January 21, 2012

Winter Turns to Spring

I realize that when I finish this year of review, it will be right when I turn 49, my own personal year of jubilee.  I have a friend who is there right now and celebrating it thus:

http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/lisatuttle/projectjubilee?utm_medium=share&utm_campaign=share&utm_source=at-facebook&utm_content=eua#.TxiwIeD84sQ.facebook
I am excited as I anticipate how this prompt to prelude my own jubilee year with a backward glance might culminate!  There is a hint, I think, in this idea of impending jubilee, but it is probably too soon to see exactly how it will manifest itself. 
For now, I progress to the end of winter, 2003:
Feb 24, 2003
John 4:11--"Sir, Thou has nothing to draw with..."
Do I still think Jesus has nothing to draw with, not just regarding His own needs, but mine also?  If I do believe this, then my misgivings will affect my trust and my choices.  Do I believe in his acuity apart from my own?  Seems like a silly question, but do I unconsciously behave as if He can only operate under my own mental ceiling?  Forgive me and grow me, God, wherever this is the case...by Your Son's gift...Amen.

March 6
Do I realize that God' love is an "unmade" thing?  What a concept!  Today I stand in awe of the mystery of that!  It is timeless. It never started.  It will never end.

Maybe lately I've been allowed to experience a frantic life pace for this spiritual purpose:  that I come to grips with the wonder of timelessness.  For me right now, everything is so tightly scheduled that I rush everything.  And I think I rush spiritual things as well.  Lee Strobel in The Case for Faith talks about our earthly lives being less about personal comfort and more about prep and training for eternity.  I must embrace this idea of prep trumping comfort in ways I haven't been acknowledging.  When I look up the word prep in the concordance, I get Ephesians 6:15 "And your feet shod with the preparation of the Gospel of peace."

Back then, I didn't have an online lexicon at my fingertips, complete with its enhanced definitions.  This Biblical word for preparation according to Thayer's lexicon connotes "Readiness of mind with the promptitude and alacrity which the Gospel produces."  Promptitude and alacrity; in other words, cheerful briskness.  That's absolutely a characteristic of those  quick epiphanies that come after a seemingly endless hard time in life--the most recent being my journal's record of the agony of being overworked. 

I've known for a while that this is a feature of my walk with God: birth pangs that drag on and escalate, only to be quickly replaced by the joy of a new life in my keeping...to use Biblical imagery.  I just didn't realize I was doing this particular dance with God so far back in time.  Cool!

Friday, January 20, 2012

Good Ripens

Good, as it ripens, becomes continually more different not only from evil but also from other good. – C.S. Lewis

April 17, 2003
So much has happened lately, I hardly know where to begin to record it!  When spring break was about to begin, N called and asked if she and her kids could come and stay with us. [N was a family friend] She'd told A, her husband, that he had to get off the prescription drugs and alcohol or she wouldn't live with him anymore.  They stayed with us for a week while he made up his mind what to do.  In the end, he decided to move cross country to be with his ex-wife and kids, but after being there only a few days, he committed suicide.  It has been tragic, inspiring, humbling, sobering--watching N deal with this and reach for faith and strength from God. Watching her bring him home and bury him. 

For my own life, it is strange to see God opening doors to a secular job and closing them on ministry jobs in the coming school year.  It is strange that even as those "official" job opportunities in the church evaporate, we are being entrusted with this great act of support to this precious, grieving family.  So are You preparing me for ministry or not, God?  Do I serve the status quo officially or the suffering unofficially? 

One thing I do know.  This Maundy Thursday service had us receiving communion at tables in groups of 12--like in the upper room.  What was strange to me was that when I broke off the bread, it fell apart in my hand and spilled onto the white table cloth. Then, when I dipped it in the cup, one drop fell on the table cloth.  I didn't notice this happening to anyone else nor has this ever happened to me before.  My first thought was, "Why am I having trouble with the sacrament tonight!?!"  And I felt You say to me, "What I put of Myself in you will spill over to others, even as the bread and wine spill out of your hands here."  What a precious communion experience once I heard that from You!

That last bit, where I move methodically through first self-condemnation for something like helpless clumsiness, etc., next to the discernment that this very thing that makes me feel shame is but a wondrous revelation from my Beloved--a revelation of my value to Him, and finally to a breathless wonder, a wordless amazement as my response.  This has become enough of a hallmark sequence for me that I try to be alert for it, particularly when I find myself tempted to be frustrated--especially with myself.  I don't always achieve the level of expectancy I desire; sometimes I wallow in irritation. He is always faithful, nevertheless, to show me the "good" of His involvement, even in those places where I'd be quick to expect His condemnation to match my own self-condemnation.  I must ever be taught again to love myself, to see myself with His eyes.
Today's backward glance did not raise risidual bitterness.
It did not bring ghost pain.
It brought precious memories:  

I'd forgotten I had yet another gif tto associate with the bread of communion.
I'd forgotten how deeply those exact words You used that day of Passion:  what I put of Myself in you...I had no idea how that particular word choice would resonate with me later...
How precious are the layers of meaning You attach to Your words
...words for the moment
...words for the future
...words for the places beyond the reach of time.
Thank You for these!

"It's a Good Value"

Nowadays, that title statement usually means: "It's cheap, comparatively speaking."
But that's not what I'm talking about here.

Feb. 16, 2003
Recently, I've been walking through a time where dark clouds obscure my relationship with You, God.  I feel like all the "spending" of my life has led to nothing.  I wonder what's the point of this "type" of relationship with You where service is paramount.  I can't be the family ox anymore in this relationship, God.  I need a season as the lap dog in Your household or else I'm going to lose all sense that You love me for any purpose other than for how much work You can get out of me!

I'm trying to be "ok" with it if I don't get any response from You for this desperate confrontation.  I've tearfully asked my spouse to pray for me as I try to come to terms with this "phase" of life.  Even as I cry like this on the inside, outside I have to choose between going full-time as a public school teacher and staying half-time and keeping the part-time church job, hanging onto the hope of going into full-time ministry later. 

So today I was reading My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers, the Feb. 4 entry (yes, I'm behind a bit) and saw this:
Very few of us know what it means to be held in a grip by the love of God; we are held by the constraint of our experience only.
He goes on to talk of testimony.  The Holy Ghost helps us to realize we are to become a witness to His "being" and not just His "doing". Ironically, I realize I was praying about my "doing" as the only way I saw Him approaching our relationship.  My "doing" was the only context in which I understood Him to want me; so is it also the only context in which I want Him?  Can I love His "being" outside His "doing" for me?  Is this the question He's left me "hanging" so that I might wake up to answer?  I've prayed for years to better understand love outside its "performance" base.  Here's one step taken that direction, I guess!  Praise God!  Chambers says, "...the strange thing is that it is the last thing realized by the Christian worker."  I guess I don't feel so foolish when I read that!  :D

Feb 20
Thoughts to ponder as I further consider Christian work as a vocation:
(again, compliments of Oswald Chambers)
  1. Have I ever been carried away to do something for God that did not feel particularly useful?
  2. Do I believe I can bring things to God that are of value to Him?   
  3. What do I make of this:  "Abandon to God is of more value than personal holiness."  I think what this means is that a personal holiness focus puts my eye on my own whiteness, preoccupies me with a fear of offending Him--which hints that I'm operating out of my own power and not His for whiteness sake; perfect love casts out fear and frees me to make it all about Your power in my life.
  4. Make up your mind that you are of no use, but ask yourself if you are of value.  "It is never a question of being of use, but of being of value."  (Feb. 21 devotion)
As I review these 4 ponder-points now, I'd say the last ten years have offered me some growth in #1 largely,  #2 definitely, and in #4 pretty well.  My big question now is this, God:  if You were to decide to test me on #3, what would it look like?  Sometimes I fear I've failed miserably on #3. 

Thursday, January 19, 2012

40 to 1

Hmmm...service starts with forty minutes of praise and ends with a one minute altar call...can't say I've ever been to that church, (that is, unless the altar call garnered no "takers" on the first verse of the closing hymn.)  Still, it appears such a service would have felt an appropriate equivalent to a time-traveling, ancient Hebrews.

[It is] a continual burnt offering, which was ordained in mount Sinai for a sweet savour, a sacrifice made by fire unto the LORD.  Numbers 28:6



January 23, 2003
We took the youth on a winter retreat and found I had some extra time for my own reflection.  I've been reading the book of Numbers, and my Bible mentions in its side notes for Numbers 26 that the daily offerings were a form of praise and worship and outnumbered sin offerings 40 to 1!  The verses describe these meat and grain offerings as a "sweet aroma" to the Lord. 

I thought of what it feels like to walk past a pastry shop in a mall, to find that aroma floating over to me with a richness and sweetness that prompts me to take a shopping break and indulge in a satisfying pastry.  This is the analogy for what our "praise offerings" do to God.  That's what He "gets" out of our praise. 

I'm not sure exactly how that 40 to 1 was calculated.  I don't read from that particular Bible anymore. (It literally fell apart right in the Gospel of John.) To review it, I had to go digging in the bookshelf.  I carried its pieces delicately and thumbed gingerly to the aforementioned side note:
Focusing on the regularity of these sacrifices in the community of the redeemed reveals how they were naturally and spontaneously interwoven into the fabric of life itself--morning and evening and special sacrifices...Believers are challenged to establish a regular and "appointed time" to focus upon the Lord...These timely and acceptable sacrifices are "a sweet aroma to the Lord" and our obedience--not the sacrifice itself--brings God pleasure (Ps. 40:6-8, Rom 12:1,2).  "Regular burnt offerings" were not made for atonement but expressed praise and thanks.  Animals sacrificed for this purpose outnumbered those sacrificed for sin offerings on a nearly 40 to 1 ratio, indicating the importance of praise in Hebrew worship.  (Thomas Nelson, Woman's Study Bible, 1995,  p.268)
Sin offerings are important. We all know Jesus tasted death as the ultimate one...but how often do we focus on the significance of praise offerings? 

How highly do I prioritize praise?  Do I do it for You or for my own pleasure?  Does it tend to give way to the "weightier" demands of sin confession and petition or even intercession?  Should it? 
Those questions beg this one:  what do my prayer-time ratios say about my pre-occupation with my own needs and interests over simple awe at the wonder of my God?  Are there too many "important" things going on for me to allot much time to that?  I know there have been times when I've felt Your revealed presence.  The majesty of Your aura is so powerful then that I don't notice myself at all, and once or twice it has been so magnificent I felt as if I could live in that moment forever.  Can I access that wonder again by giving more of myself to praise?  Can I rouse myself to that at will?  And if I do...what might the result be?

Then Noah built an altar to the LORD, and took of every clean animal and of every clean bird, and offered burnt offerings on the altar. And the LORD smelled a soothing aroma. Then the LORD said in His heart, “I will never again curse the ground for man’s sake, although the imagination of man’s heart is evil from his youth; nor will I again destroy every living thing as I have done.
 “While the earth remains,
Seedtime and harvest,
Cold and heat,
Winter and summer,
And day and night
Shall not cease.”
Gen 8:20-22

Have I ever really processed that a human could make a praise offering so soothing to God that He would be inspired to make a "while the earth remains..."promise in reponse?  No, I'd say not.  I need to review how I'm rationing my prayer offerings in the areas of praise, petition, and confession.  I don't think I need to take a stop watch into my prayer closet, but I do think that "40 to 1" should be saying something to me.

Let my prayer be set forth before thee [as] incense; [and] the lifting up of my hands [as] the evening sacrifice...Psalm 141:2

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

On Eagle's Wings

If you were limited to being a single body part, what part would you be?
It's a Biblical question, you know.

November 29-30, 2002

I took a little post-Thanksgiving Day trip to my dad's house.  Scott is keeping the boys so I have a little get-away here.  As I drove, I had an interesting thought. If it were me that stood before the Tree of Knowledge, would I not gobble the fruit right off it?  I'm fortunate enough to live at such a time in the history of man that I can see Jesus standing between me and the tree, but sometimes that only feeds my self-sufficiency.  I think I have this great resistance to that fateful tree, when really what I have is a noble distraction from its allure.  "Blessed are the poor in spirit..." He said.  How often do I embrace my own poverty sufficiently?  Oswald Chambers speaks of the bedrock that builds the Kingdom of God, and that it's not found in our possessions but in poverty. How slow I am to embrace that frailty, that futility within myself, even though knowing my own limits on the moral frontier really does soften the clay so You can begin to really mold me.

I had a image come to me for a friend who was preparing for ministry.  "Good" ministry, I told him, is a lot like riding on the back of an eagle.  You can try to do all kinds of wing-walking tricks and feats; but if you make that your goal, then the eagle must fly very carefully to keep your sure-footed.  If, however, you will simply cling to the feathers, hug the bird tightly and make the tightness of your grip your only claim to fame, then the eagle can do far more magnificent flying tricks, swooping and soaring to heights it never dared take you while you were trying to impress yourself and others by dancing on its back. 

I wrote this to him as he prepared to leave for seminary.  I write it for myself today.  Help me, Lord, to just cling.

I'd completely forgotten that gem of an image about how to deal with the ride on God's wings.  Revisiting it now gives me a chance to assess how I'm doing living it out.  He started by teaching me to accept a clinging posture, a lesson taught by flying to wild places, ones where only a fool would try to play the wing-walker.  But it is more than just a survival position now. 

I think I am finally learning to accept being whatever part of the body God assigns me to be--such was not always the case.
   21 The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” 22 On the contrary, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, 23 and the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with special honor. And the parts that are unpresentable are treated with special modesty, 24 while our presentable parts need no special treatment. But God has combined the members of the body and has given greater honor to the parts that lacked it, 25 so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. 26 If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.  I Cor. 12:21-26

There was a time when I longed for a public ministry, enough so that I rejoiced at the chance to enter diaconal training--as I mentioned a couple of posts ago.  But an interesting thing happened when I sat down with my sponsoring pastor for my first prep session.

As I took up my manual and settled into the leather chair in front of his desk, he studied me intently, and then opened our session by saying, "We'll do this.  But I have a feeling you're intended for a non-traditional ministry."  He was dead accurate with that prediction.

The next few years were not easy, as I walked long periods in which God probed with very personal questions springing from those verses above:  would I be unpresentable?  Would I be weaker?  Would I let him show  me how I was nonetheless indispensable?    This little prayer (help me, Lord, to cling) may very well have been the one that kicked all that into play.  Funny how the most off-hand prayers are often the ones with the most far-reaching effects. 

Monday, January 16, 2012

Bigger Than a Breadbox

What do these things have in common?
  • a metal ice cube tray with handle
  • a hand beater
  • a stove-top percolator
  • a flour sifter
  • a dough cutter
  • a bread box
Answer:  former kitchen "necessities" that are now utterly absent from many kitchens.

I've been meditating on this bread theme.  I'm studying this idea of "receiving" bread, and it is serving as yet another bridge between old-journal me and new-journal me.  I'm even on a bread fast as I seek further revelation about what this all says to me now.  And...I'm reading more of what it said to me then.

November 28, 2002

I have felt God's call in a poetic way this Thanksgiving morning.  I'm up alone, preparing the turkey.  The baby's just waking, but I wanted to get this down.  I just read in my morning devotions about the idea of being "broken bread and poured out wine" for the sake of other people.  So much imagery comes to my mind with that.  How might I be someone else's communion on Your behalf, Lord? 


When I put together that list of  lost kitchen wares from above (mined from the soil of the blog link below--along with the photo) and the idea of being the bread, when I allow these to overlay the thoughts of being the server vs. the chef from a previous post it feels like moving into a deeper place in the temple...from a portico to a holy place.  I feel a shift coming--a shift of my gaze from a past full of things that preoccupy my self-image to a less cluttered  view, a self image that has room to stretch and breathe.  For the past to have an appropriate "place" in the present, it should be hidden within the covenant ark of my heart for a law and a testimony but not for clutter that depresses me and not to simpy make a museum display of the archaic.  This is wasteful for a short-lived soul like mine.
Case in point:  one last thing from that rarely-seen-in-today's-kitchen list...pie birds.  They're purty, but I don't have a clue as to their function.    I figure their open mouths and tented bases point to some sort of purpose, but I have no idea what it is.



http://networkedblogs.com/sKuIH

However, if I find a pic of said bird in action, living according to its purpose--
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/106/307914409_d71f165535.jpg
Context is everything...
"Give us this day our daily bread..."
Keep me present tense, O God.
To Thy glory...

Friday, January 13, 2012

Jacob's Well

"...finally we find him sitting in the entrance of his cave of disillusionment, his cave of spiritual retirement in his religious mountain..." (Briscoe speaks of Elijah, in There's a Snake in My Garden, p. 118.)  Herein I find my greatest inspiration to remain authentic in this journal, to address any abridgements with deep prayer.  Originally, it was to be a marathon read-through in some sparse little room at some retreat center.  Everyone from Philip Yancey to Trappist monks say such a retreat into solitude is a good thing, and indeed it is; but such was not Your plan for me with this project.  I would be too much like Briscoe's prophet.  Onward instead...


November 26, 2002
As I read Oswald Chambers this morning, I'm reflecting on one particular idea he considers: am I working to build the Body of Christ, or am I looking for personal development?  Self-focus leads to distortion.  Even more pertinent, am I concerned about "realizing Jesus Christ" or only about "realizing what He has done for me."

As I deal with this question of whether You're calling me to ministry--I think again of the woman at the well.  Jesus connected with her, showed His delightful renewal for her, even in the face of her wanton cooperation with the pain and badness all around her.  Nonetheless, she became a powerful evangelist...immediately.  The whole town came out to see Him on her word. Her impact did not come later, after she'd had much training in apologetics or in the exegesis of His living words, not after she'd stood the test of time.  Her ministry was nothing like that of the disciples, yet it was effective. 

I see now why the reflections on Elijah's life served as my prelude today. You're beginning to make a linking me in with in the prep work, aren't You, God?  It is so easy to look at a task--and the more thorough the divine revelation before the task--a common occurrence for prophets, the greater the temptation to over-prepare so much that the time for action never arrives.  To quote an old Quaker proverb, it is tempting to be one who is always digging worms but never takes them on a fishing trip.

God, if it is time...take me fishing.  Even me, the unprepared untrained who has nothing to recommend me but our time together at Jacob's Well.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

The Bread of Life

I hope this is legal, sharing this photo.
I almost never do this. 
I got it from a Facebook friend named Mona, who got it from a friend named Christine...and that's as near as I get to its original source--hardly the stuff of a sanctioned bibliography. Still, I wanted to share it.  I needed this like a deep breath of fresh air.

As I look over these old journal entries, I realize that I need more strength to do this thing--run the whole course of reviewing them.  It will require a mental and spiritual discipline I didn't expect to need.  Deep thoughts (deep enough to warrant journaling anyway) originally came to me at a pace of a few a month; but reviewing them this way--taken up on a daily basis--is proving to be entirely different.  The journals came like potpourri, a few of drops of essential oil infusing a bed of flower petals and bulk material; but this--this is like pouring that oil on my hands and rubbing it all over my face.  Delightful, but so strong and so unrelenting.  I pray I have the discipline to glean all You'd have me learn from them.  Send me to school, God!

November 15
Funny, the myriads I've written and read about the need for silence and solitude, and even now as I determine to sit down and write again, I hear the baby waking up.  [Our youngest was born Feb. of 2001]   

Three pages in my devotional, two sentences in my prayer journal and BAM--the interruptions begin.  In fact, my devotional reading addresses the need for 'alone' time with You.  How do I do this, God?  How does it work for me?  I know there are areas of wastefulness in my time.  There are thoughts that could be disciplined toward You, but even as I try, distraction and interruption come unavoidably.  Like now.  I did manage to get that stewardship sermon written and delivered, and the coffeehouse worship hour is going well, but I still feel like I'm just maintaining, God, not growing. 
Am I afraid?
The devotional I read talked about Jesus feeding the 5000 and how the disciples saw such a feeding as impossible.  But they looked at it as if they were asked to MAKE the food.  You only asked that they DISTRIBUTE it.  Somehow this seems very large.  What question do I hear from You, Lord?  Do I hear You ask me to secure the food for people or just to deliver it?  The questions could get markedly different answers from me. 
Help me to remember I'm a distributor of Your loaves and fishes.  I am not asked to be a creator of them.

How do I share what strikes me about these thoughts?  Much of it depends on your knowing things that won't hit this historic journal for years to come--dreams of holy bread and its symbolic role in my life...super dreams as my children call them, for they have them sometimes, too.  For now, I'll just share this most recent one. 

I dreamed I was working on a building project with other saints.  After the workday was finished, we were all invited back to an appreciation dinner.  I arrived along with an older man.  When we pulled back the curtain to the banquet room, we saw tables draped in white cloth, with people sitting waiting to eat.  We were the last two to arrive, and  I saw two places left empty.  Each place setting held a gift for the diner.  One place was at a table of older people--friends of the man beside me--who were very much engaged in lively conversation.  At that place, a loaf of bread waited as a gift.  The other table had an empty seat alongside my own husband, and its gift was a mystery, all wrapped and ribboned for opening.  I considered both places, then turned to the man beside me.  "Why don't you take this one here.  I can make bread in my bread machine; and I don't know any of these people.  You can sit with them since they're in your group.  I'll take the other place."  I treated it like a concession to what would most bless him. 
So I went to be with the mystery gift and my husband.  But he, standing behind his chair, acted surprised when he turned and saw me there.  Immediately I knew I'd disappointed him...and myself. I looked at the gift in my hands and was suddenly crushed in my spirit.  I had wanted this seat for the gift, for the more familiar companionship and for a place next to my husband--all of which would have been acceptable reasons, except that I hadn't been honest about what I wanted.  I made the case that I was choosing this place based on what would be good for another, but in truth I'd done nothing of the kind.  I'd chosen based on what I wanted for myself.   Suddenly, the gift meant nothing, and my husband's disappointment as he turned his back on me to visit anew with the others at our table--this was a great chastening. 
I woke knowing every part of this dream was deeply symbolic, and I prayed that I might be alert to learn from the dream itself rather than to have to walk such a sad path, all for the sake of the learning his truth.  The bread He offers is not a bread I can make for myself.  It is a gift.  The people he sends to be my table companions should suffice, whether I sit at His right hand of honor or not. 
I am the server, not the chef in this story.  And as for wanting to sit beside You--
Well, if I'm a Mary and not a Martha, even in a world that only wants Marthas, I must still own who I am, and let You defend my choice.
Help me, Lord.  I hate pride and fear when they come to call hand in hand.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Redeem the Time

A fellow blogger raised the question: what do you do that makes you forget about the passage of time?
http://blinknholly.blogspot.com/2011/02/time-flies.html

What an interesting idea!  I love those thought-prompts--the ones that seem to give my brain a chance to rummage in a toy box of ideas only to pull out a delight.  And then, I consider it from Your perspective, God (we are made in Your image, after all.)  Can we be such a thing of happy forgetfulness to You?  Is your delighted engagement with us part of the reason why 1000 years are as a day for You?  What a humbling thought!  I'd love to live up to such a calling.
I also stumbled across this "time" quote that Joni Eareckson Tada shared online, from the works of Fredrick Faber:
"In the spiritual life God chooses to try our patience first of all by His slowness. He is slow: we are swift and precipitate. It is because we are but for a time, and He has been for eternity. Thus grace, for the most part, acts slowly. He works little by little. Sweetly and strongly He compasses His ends, but with a slowness which tires our faith because it is so great a mystery. We must fasten upon this attribute of God in our growth in holiness. There is something greatly overawing in the extreme slowness of God. Let it overshadow our souls, but let it not disquiet them. We must wait for God, long, meekly, in the wind and wet, in the thunder and the lightning, in the cold and the dark. Wait, and He will come. He never comes to those who do not wait. He does not go their road. When He comes, go with Him, but go slowly, fall a little behind; when he quickens His pace, be sure of it, before you quicken yours. But when He slackens, slacken at once: and do not be slow only, but silent, very silent, for He is God."

September 30
Another thought of Richard Foster's:  chastity for monks meant they lived in a state of "holy vacancy."  That meant they had room for God despite living in a world crowded with interpersonal relationships.  Given how much we crave those relationships now--often replacing You with them--how do we find that holy vacancy now?

[Given that I mused on this before we even had the time-consuming social media options we have now, the question becomes all the more pertinent to my schedule today.]

Oct. 2
"When we have a spirit of thanksgiving, we can hold all things loosely."  (Challenge of the Disciplined Life, Richard Foster, p.49.) Even hold a bounced check loosely, God?  I'm afraid I bounced a check when I bought those 14 Godspell tickets for the kids' worship team. I should have balanced the checkbook before I wrote that big check, especially since I knew it would be a week before the church would reimburse me.

In fact, money is a big area of prayer for me today.  For the past six months we've had to push at least one bill forward every month.  I know with the recession and all we aren't alone in this sort of thing, but we're nevertheless trying to adjust our lives so there is less of this skating on thin ice.  We're trying to trade the Suburban for a minivan--cheaper car payments, gas $, insurance, etc.  So I'm lugging that ton of steel before You and asking You bless our attempt to drop it from our pile of obligations.  We're getting rid of cable TV today, too.  Show me what else, Lord.  What else can we throw off?  If financial situation stays grave all year like this, I may need to try to teach full time and drop the church job.  [I can't "hear" my voice here.  Way I bitter?  Was I holding that hope for career change into deacon ministry loosely, too?  I don't remember how broad this prayer ran.  Most likely I  was just hedged in by a moment of financial panic and blind to larger implications.] 
Is that your will? Full-time teaching for me.  Go into the deep parts of us, Lord, where our views on lifestyle are formed.  Help us receive simplicity from You and protect us from greed.

I didn't journal about it then, but I remember vividly something that happened the day after I wrote this prayer.  I was working at the church, standing at the photocopy machine praying again because two women in the church had spoken spiteful words against a project I'd been running.  I stood there while the machine flashed and whirred, and I prayed, "God, I know I need to bring these two women before Your throne so You can talk to me about them, but I feel too weak to carry them."  Immediately, I "heard" a voice in my head say, "You didn't have any trouble dragging a 'ton of steel' in here yesterday.  What's the problem with bringing me two little ladies?"  I laughed out loud...and then I prayed for those two women.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Working at Cross Purposes

When I reflect on the things I recorded yesterday, I find a decade has greatly changed the shape me.  Back then, I saw little benefit in the traditional format of worship, apart from the loveliness of high church music.  I considered the Spirit mostly stifled.  Obviously, I thought soulful worship was  all about style, though I hardly realized I carried these assumptions.  Now I think the humorous pastor's assessment of  bad sermons/good listeners that I shared the other day applies here, too.

Where am I on the road to redeemed worship now? I understand better the beauty of historic worship patterns.  I see that entering a cloud of witnesses who have intoned the same prayers, psalms, and creeds over centuries is a beautiful thing; a thing that rings with multi-voiced resonance across many lifetimes, offering a mystical bridge to the Heavenly City.  When I was younger, life was so much more immediate and locked into the boundary of "this very moment."  I was so mindlessly proud of the blade of grass that was me.  The Spirit-led bridge I believed I saw was well lit, with a neon glow--bright in the moment, but the resonance there was mostly the buzz of the bulbs, which meant it only lasted until the bulbs burned out.  And the bulbs are burning out.

I've observed the corruption of my beautiful ideal for free worship.  I've learned that it is not automatically present just because the worshiper dons a new coat for the service. Contemporary worship, too, is prone to deteriorate, becoming just as moth-eaten as its predecessor.  The result can be:
  • a well-lit, well-amplified stage inhabited by a group of skilled musicians while all others doze in a comfortable darkness;
  • a "Spirit-leading" that devolves into rigid patterns, maintained by strict adherence to a click track droning in the drummer's ear--this to the end so that the songs are well-regulated within their allotted time frame; 
  • stage-view screens that ever display digital timers, the counting house of that precious commodity: time; 
  • and a congregation/audience who feel more worshiped at than worshiped with

Does this mean we cut loose all worship ideals like so much ballast on a sinking ship?  Somehow, I don't think so.  I believe there is hope that tiptoes into the worship space behind all this disillusionment.  Now, I find myself sometimes moved to tears by prophetic gifts during both these styles of service--but these are quirky gifts and intimately personal, strangely "perfect" for that specific moment in time.  In contemporary worship, it might be the image that floats benignly behind the lyrics on the screens--and I catch my breath because it is there for me; or in traditional, the specific flower chosen on the altar display might be transcendent, or the position of the soloist in a choir's anthem, things that would hardly even be noticeable someone else, or even to me on any other given day.  And I know that there are similar "graces"placed for others, likewise invisible to me.  This is where my worship has headed, but for now it is a solitary road.

Sorry all that didn't tag onto the end of yesterday's post, I think I had to sleep on it before it congealed in my mind.  On to today's glance in the rear view mirror:

Sept. 21, 2002
I'm reading about the discipline of confession in Richard Foster's Celebration of Discipline.  Here are some of the things that resonate with me.  Foster notes that most of us think God was so angry with bad people that he needed somebody big enough to take the rap so he could forgive everybody.  But this is faulty, because love not anger brought Jesus to the cross, and Jesus is One with God.  He refused painkillers (that first, medicated sponge) because he wanted to be utterly alert for this great work.  "In a deep and mysterious way, he was preparing to take on the collective sin of the human race.  Some seem to think that when Jesus shouted, "My God, My God, why has thou forsaken me?" it was a moment of weakness.  Not at all.  This was his moment of greatest triumph...so totally identified with humankind that he was the actual embodiment of sin...such a total identification that he experienced the abandonment of God.  Only in that way could he redeem sin. Having accomplished this greatest of all work.  He took refreshment. [later this second sponge makes a HUGE appearance in my life.  At this time, I completely missed it in Foster's reference, not even realizing there was a "second" sponge.]...Soon after, he gave up his spirit to the father.(p.143-4)

Confession is psychologically therapeutic, but with the cross it is so much more.  It offers a deeper subjective change within us even as it offers objective change between us and God.  Foster indicates we must seek confession as a gift that leads to the realization of our "desire to be conquered and ruled by God." (p. 152) 
"Confession begins in sorrow, but ends in joy."  Do I believe this?  Self-assessment check:  I don't practice confession because what I really believe is that confession begins in sorrow and ends in condemnation without, self-loathing and despair within.  I need that to be redeemed!
Prayer focus regarding confession:
1)If I'm going to give this a try, I need You to lead me to someone safe as the receiver of my confession.
2)Help me be a better receiver myself, good at keeping confidence and not so prone to either shrug off someone's admission as a "small" thing or--on the flip side--find myself too horrified to bring You into the moment.
3)Help me not to slip into self-importance if someone does ask me to be a confidante, like that's some sort of badge of personal honor.
Help me in these things, O Lord!  And frankly, I tremble at the thought of asking You to increase grace toward this discipline in my life--yet I ask anyway.  Help Thou, my faint heart.

The first thing that jumps out at me is Your overarching impact,a thing that at first blush has nothing to do with the entry's explicit topic. 
My current prayer journal has me reflecting more on that Rob Bell book about love winning.  I agree with other reviewers:  I don't fully agree with it, but it does prompt good questions.  One of the things I think he implies is that while God provides a hell for those who do not choose His love, nevertheless, belief in a God of wrath is anathema to embracing this God of love.  (At least that's my take on his premise.)  This morning's Bible reading , however, led me to hear John the Baptist say to the Pharisees and Sadducees, "Brood of vipers, who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?"  Bell is essentially silent on this "wrath to come" even though it is a common thread in scripture.  His adoration of Your love is enticing, Despite that, my heart begs audience on this matter:  teach me about Your wrath, too.  I would know a balanced picture of Thee. 
It feels a rugged request, a whisper from a puny human clinging to the top of a mountain as wild winds whip around and demons laugh at such ridiculous boldness.  No matter, (gulp) I say the question stands.  I ask:  how does the love that Bell describes in such persuasive terms balance with the wrath I can't help but find in Your Word?  And so I notice right away  that this  confusion regarding love and wrath is woven into Foster's description of people's understanding of the Cross--a thing that found a place in my journal 10 years ago, and one I am still trying to understand. 
I guess some things are even yet a work in progress.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

In All Thy Ways

"Wisdom is nothing more than healed pain."
A proverb I came across recently. Providential timing, eh?
Begs the question, just how wise do I really want to be?
Am I strong enough for God to teach me anything else?

In all thy ways, acknowledge Him and He shall make thy path straight. Prov 3:6

Even if our paths are glittering trails across a dawn sky, we have such promises with which to rejoice.  We should not fear His instruction, even His chastening, for it gives evidence we are His children.

For He shall give His angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. Psalm 91:11

I think sometimes a lot of knowledge simply gained by human study instead of through "suffering" can be a dangerous thing:  I know my Bible well enough to know that Jesus refused to be tempted by that verse when the Devil presented it.  Unfortunately, I stop marvelling at it right there.  If Jesus "didn't need" to access that, then neither do I.  I want to be like Jesus.  Really?  Do I actually believe that way?  I think maybe I do.  What if I saw that verse outside it's later contextual use?  I might feel a more appropriate level of appreciation for all those angels streaking across the sky on my behalf!
I don't know why these things feel like a prelude to this post.  I haven't even read over what today's old journal entry will reveal.  Time to find out:

August 20

[The discernment retreat and task force meeting late in July at our church launched a plan for creating contemporary service offerings at our church.  In 2002, such a thing was not as commonplace as it is now, and few really knew how to incorporate such a thing into a traditional church setting.  We'd already made a stumbling and ultimately failed attempt at a night-service offering, but still felt God was calling us to some sort of move in this direction.  Here are the particulars of our church's struggle to implement change, and the questions and differences that sprang up even between those who deeply respected each other's receptivity to God, particularly the worship leader and the senior pastor.]

WL [used in place of the given name of the worship leader] called me yesterday. She said SP [similarly, senior pastor] wanted to invoke a transitional period between what is now the current traditional format for the 10:45 service and its ultimate fully-contemporary format.  WL has a check in her spirit about that option, however, feeling more like going "cold turkey" into the newly-styled service.  She fears we'll lose the "grid lines" that our task force put in place concerning our goal for doing more than just"repackage" the current service.  [The idea of new wine in old wine skins pops in my mind as I re-read this now although I said nothing of it then.]  I can see SP's point of view, however.  We are replacing the service that the largest contributors currently attend, and not all of them feel the need for this change.  They are the "bread and butter" of the church, in practical terms, so it seems horribly impractical to put aside what is working for them and replace it with something unfamiliar, possibly unprofitable, possibly outside our competency zone as human leaders.  I know God does make such invitations sometimes.  The cliche "leap of faith" comes from somewhere after all.

Interesting that our WL is ready to make that leap.  She is far more comfortable with detailed, structured, rehearsed and scripted structure in the music, but is willing to move outside that comfort zone.  My own hope is that ultimately the structure can become flexible to us, our sole "structure" being:  the direction of the Spirit.  I think the evidence would manifest as freedom to repeat a chorus, bump up a key, skip a verse, add a song, etc.  But for such a thing to become a reality,everyone involved would have to have a sense of deep corporate awareness, worship and trust.  All of us have personal steps to take to bring us closer to each other in worship, because up to now we have been a group of individual, consumer worshipers following behind a person who leads, with that leader also governed by an inanimate structure.  Where we long to go is to a place of cohesive mass worship--all equal but with different roles and all under the cloud of God.  Only faith could bring such a change.

I do believe those of us in current leadership must pray vital prayers.  Like the spies sent into Canaan, we are returning with our "good report" but will we be heard?  Is it ever the time to tiptoe into Your will gradually? We need to know Your will, God. If we are the spies, then our report will send a lot of people either into the promised land or back into 40 years of desert life.  Help us not to weigh bounty against danger as we make our choices, but to say, like Joshua and Caleb:  "If the Lord is pleased with us, He will lead us into the land...only do not rebel...and do not be afraid of the people...their protection is gone, but the Lord is with us."  Numbers 14:7-9
[Compromise was achieved, a path laid; but that new format never wore like a well-fitting garment.  My family had moved away before any final assessment was made as to the value of the whole venture, so I don't know what the church's final assessment was, as drawn by those who remained.]

A friend who strolls with me through these old journals gave me a timely image:  watch out for what the auto-correct plugs in for you when you are waiting to hear from God.  Did we do that then?  Did we panic, flounder?  Maybe.  Would God redeem even our worst guesses at His "next" word?  I believe, absolutely!  What would the now-me say to then-me?  Try harder to wait; though the text may seem an enigma,  try to wait--don't auto correct from personal bias or unevaluated presumptions.  When the "right word" comes, you'll recognize it!  And, if the question is for Him, then consider whether He is the one you're asking. 
OK, now I "get" the verses that were ringing in my ear at the start of today's reflection.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Which Quote Gets You Burned at the Stake?

Yesterday, my current commentary gave evidence to something that today's old entry confirms:  I am a long-term quoter.  I am a reader, and therefore I am a quoter.  In fact, you might find half of what I say has already been said by someone else.  In fact, sometimes I forget whether something I believe was an original thought or was something I read someone else say back in my on antiquity.  In fact, I'll speak more to this at the end of today's backward glance.   
August 6
Once Elijah [my middle son, 7 at the time of this journal] asked me, "Would the devil ever be sorry?"  This question got me to thinking about the converse:  Does God ever grieve the estrangement of his archangel?  The little book I'm using to study Colossians quotes this verse:  "And through Him to reconcile to Himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven."  Col. 1:20
Was that redemption bought by Jesus so great it could even redeem the devil himself? My son wants to know, and now I'm kind of curious, too.  How would such a thing appear?

[Here the quote is my son and not from reading, but he did inspire reflection, and I noted it faithfully in my journal.]

August 11
I am studying this little book preparing to lead a youth retreat on the spiritual disciplines.  It is called Loved and Forgiven, by Lloyd John Ogilvie.  As I study it, I read about the dangers of basic assumptions that are in contradiction to the gospels.  "Right thoughts do not make us righteous.  Only the cross can do that." (p.72)
Also, "...even a quick review of the commandments forces us to realize that we have failed miserably...We then try to deal with that by either saying, 'Well, nobody's perfect.  Why try?' or 'I'm going to be good enough to deserve God's approval!' The outcome is either license or perfectionism.  Neither works.  Both result in an uneasy state of grace." (p. 79)
And, "The new life we are to live is not one of compulsion, seeking to earn the Lord's approval, but one of conviction, allowing Him to express Himself through us." (p.106)
How much do You get to express Yourself through ALL of my life circumstances, God?

August 18
One more book in preparing for this youth retreat.  It's called The Way of the Heart [my first introduction to Henri Nouwen, who would become one of my favorite Christian authors.]  In it, the author says our "greed and anger are brother and sister of a false self fabricated by the social compulsions of an unredeemed world."
What does this say to me? 
Sour fruits of the spirit:  anger as my impulsive response to deprivation.  Additionally, when I build my response on what others say, then anger also serves as my protective response to that criticism.  Similarly, when my sense of self is built on possessions, then greed becomes compulsive.  [...although I hadn't had a lot of experience handling these greed-fruits, they were all theoretical.  Ha!]
Frozen fires of greed and anger these are, not roaring openly.  They are settled in the nibbling resentment that hides behind my smile and polite handshake.  These "slowly paralyze the generous heart." (p.24)
Desert fathers used solitude to escape these compulsions.  What do I use?


Heigh ho, Heigh ho, it's off to quote I go.  I'm a rabid reader, but sometimes that propensity turns me into at least an enigma to some, if not a terror on the order of a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde.  Case in point: yesterday's entry.  The one comment I got from a reader was:  interesting, but you quoted Rob Bell!
I've thought about this a lot over time.  That whole idea of Dallas Willard's (seen recently enough I remember it's NOT my own idea) that we take our greatest liberties with what we allow ourselves to think about.  I admit it:  I've read Rob Bell.  I've also read Paul Tillich.  Gasp and gasp again.  To those who question Catholic authorship, I've read Nouwen.  To those who think historic Quakers weird, I've read Hannah Whitall Smith...etc.  Why??

Here is my considered response to that question of why I choose to read--and quote--as I do:
...I'll tell you I tossed around a bit over whether to include the Bell quote or not. I know some people would obstinately stop reading the minute they saw that, so I prayed: should I put it in, God? And I heard back: people had to crawl over cannibalism to understand the Eucharist, too, but they've forgotten what that sort of thing looks like now. Give me freedom to exercise it here.
 

As for why I'm even reading the book, well...I've never been one to fear a book, not after I've submitted my reading to the Spirit of God, which I always do. The guy who wrote The Message translation of the Bible is quoted as reviewing this particular Bell book and saying essentially: "I don't agree with everything Rob Bell says, but he gets us start asking the right questions again." And another long-term (but now retired) pastor friend of mine who has also read it said, "It does raise questions, but I really am surprised the book caused such a fuss." I was curious about what these questions were, so I decided to read it.  I am remembering an interview with Billy Graham (I think?) in which he was asked if he ever had trouble sitting through other people's bad sermons, considering he gave such great ones himself. His response was, "You can always get something out of a sermon. It's never the sermon that's the issue; it's your listening."  Finding the grain of wheat and letting the chaff fly away has simply never been that big a deal to me--one of God's graces, I suppose; and God has been faithful to show me what is false, but also what is valuable in both fabulous and lousy writing.
More philosophically, I believe sometimes we think we're protecting ourselves through the limits we set for ourselves, but often we're really just subconsciously trying to protect God from having to answer the questions we know we'd raise as a result of our reading.  Particularly if we're intelligent, we fear He wouldn't be equal to those questions, and we might lose our faith, but we rarely admit that to our conscious selves. Ha! My own experience is that God is always equal to the questions. Why should we fear an author could outstrip the power of God's response? How do we know He wouldn't turn around and have us answer someone else's question, one whose faith is not so strong as ours by our having already had that particular conversation with Him? A lot of people out there have trouble accepting God when He is presented as being easy to offend and not too good at fielding questions. On the other hand, a fearless, well-informed powerhouse for God leaves many with their jaws hanging open.
In my experience, the most unshakable ministers I know of for the Kingdom of God are constantly sorting, looking to distinguish within themselves where their motives lie, rooting out any motives that wear a mask of self-discipline, but are actually nothing but plain fear and doubt underneath that mask.   Such self-examination is effective for those who want most of all to love God and their fellow saints, for fear is always cast out through purified motives.  


As for my look backward at my historic quoting tendency, I see that even years ago I consulted a lot of texts, and these led me to ask a lot of questions; but I tarried for very few  of the answers.  Some time later, a friend prayed for me that I would be less like a hummingbird, particularly in the places where God was calling me to be an eagle.  I hope that prayer is being answered.  (smile)

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Keeping Vigil through the Night

I find affirmations already that this venture into my own prayer-past is divinely conceived.  My first reaction to some of my journal-review is to want to sit my old self down and give me a good lecture or at least a pep talk.  Already I find You refining Your purpose in sending me to take this backward glance.  Recently, I came across these words, and I know You are sending them for this very day:
"As we experience this love, there is a temptation at times to become hostile to our earlier understandings, feeling embarrassed...when we haven't come to terms with our own story.  These past understandings aren't to be denied or dismissed; they're to be embraced.  Those experiences belong.  Love demands that they belong.  That's where we were at that point in our life and God met us there.  Those moments were necessary for us to arrive here, at this place at this time, as we are.  Love frees us to embrace all of our history, the history in which all things are being made new."  (Rob Bell in Love Wins)
So I will continue into August, 2002 with a kinder, more gracious  attitude toward my younger self--it has always been a challenge, not just now and regarding this journal, but in many ways, this being kind to myself. 

August 1
Yesterday I expressed to my pastor an interest in taking the Youth Coordinator position at the church.  My only ambivalence is that this combined youth/music position will pay $8000 less than my  part time teaching job offers.  Plus, I'd be losing benefits and my retirement.  
The easy answer is, "Have faith!"  But we did this once before. When Scott tried it...well...we're still trying to recover from the financial atom bomb that went off then.  Still don't know if we were really walking in faith at all--it sure didn't pan out in a way that seemed like You'd approved the course of action.  What's more, if I were to take it on now, I can see it requiring a 50-60 hr work week.  I've done that before, and I don't like what happens to my temperament when I try it.  Doing these two assignments--youth and music--could certainly mean that much time.  God, what is the answer?  Maybe I'll try doing both until Christmas. 
I also worry because Scott is considering another job change.  Including part time jobs, he's made 7  job "starts and stops" in 3 years.  He struggles to find something that supports us and yet feels do-able to him in the long run. [It took him another couple of years to find his niche in sales where he has been satisfied and happily productive ever since, but at this writing, his career objectives were still in flux.] I fear leaving teaching where I am building retirement saving, etc.--again very natural, earthly concerns.  "Have faith!"  Humph.  The kids are growing into greater financial needs, too. What price would You have me ask them to pay for my faith? 
Still, I want to acknowledge you in all these things, O God.  I remember hearing a sermon at Oakbrook [my husband played drums for this church--making us a two-church family for a time] about where we place our trust. The scripture focus was --In all your ways acknowledge Him and He WILL  make your path straight.  "How many holes does it take to sink a boat?"  the sermon asked.  "If you hold even one thing back to manage on your own, it will affect the other areas, and the boat will sink."
Am I traveling in a one-holed boat, God?  A many-holed boat?

Here I pray, "Search me, O God, and know my heart.  Test me and know my anxious thoughts  See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting."  Psalm 139
Also:
Banish lies from my lips and liars from my presence.  Give me enough food to live on, neither too much nor too little.  If I'm too full, I might get independent, saying 'God? Who needs him?' If I am poor, I might steal and dishonor the name of my God. 
Prov. 30:8-9
These two make my prayer plea tonight and one more:
I know that the Lord secures justice for the poor and upholds the cause of the needy."  Psalm 140:12
These are the promises I claim, for I look to be poor one way or the other:  either in $ or in time unless something changes.  Thy will be done.  I lay my need for justice and provision at your door to secure it for me, O Lord. My cause is noble and true, but I am needy.
[Did I realize I referenced again the place of knocking?  I don't think I did, but the days prior certainly prepared a subconscious part of me for this night of prayer.  Did I see that I laid my needs down there?  Did that mean I subconsciously left, afraid to wait for Your reaction?  In any case, Your response was swift...]


August 3
I met with the pastor today after my marathon night of prayer. I came to the decision to seek ordination to the Office of Deaconess. He loaned me the Book of Discipline [of the Methodist Church] to read info on this particular area of clergy work, and I am getting excited at the prospect of it.  I'll keep my teaching job, at half-time, and just go half-time at the church instead of full, doing only the music side of the work.  I will also seek recommendation from the next full charge conference for official candidacy into the diaconal ministry. Three years after that, I can be in full-time ministry. 
But for tonight, as I glance through this Book of Discipline, I'm reflecting on a phrase I see in the Doctrinal Heritage section:
"Support without accountability promotes moral weakness; accountability without support is a form of cruelty."  Also from this book:  "A church that rushes to punish is not open to God's mercy, but a church lacking the courage to act decisively on personal and social issues loses its claim to moral authority."  paragraph 101

Dear Lord, may your grace at work in me extend into the realm of evangelism to a larger degree.  Prepare me and sanctify me to that end.  In Christ's name..Amen.

Reflecting on that quote, I see a great arena in which to pray for local churches. So often it seems, when a church slips out of its vine-branch position with Christ, it is due to this sort of imbalance between support and accountability.  I think this might be why God is moving our congregation to be less inwardly focused and become more seeker-friendly.  The consideration of the seeker's needs will make us reflect on how much (as a church) we are working to keep these two aspects in balance.

How do I talk about the way the now-me looks back at this section?  Bittersweet?  This was the genesis, the prelude to an era in which we would feel like sacrificial lambs--not spotless by any means, but lambs nonetheless about to be led to slaughter. Moreover, if I could explain my God to my former self, I'd point out that these were days akin to a Kadesh moment  (Numbers 13) in the  church where we worshiped and served.  God wanted to indicate a drift much like the drift Jesus brought to light in Matthew 23, saying "[Ye] fools and blind: for whether [is] greater, the gift, or the altar that sanctifieth the gift?"  Accountability is a gift of grace and a responsibility, but it is not the altar itself, nor is support.  These must go on the altar to be sanctified, not relied upon to make the altar itself worthy.  
We did not comprehend any of this at the time.  We were too personally affected to process events from such a lofty posture.  We did not see ourselves as having a hard role to play as God brought these scales into view.  We as a church thought we wanted seekers, but did we not actually want secrets?  Corporately we did not see how our actions were the same as cowering before giants in a divinely proffered land of milk and honey.  In theory it all looked good during those planning meetings and in-house retreat. These were the massive grapes from the brook Eschol; but equally obvious were the risks in claiming that territory, risks that proved too great, to God's children in the OT and to our congregation then as well. 
I can't remember whether this  holy guidance came as a preparation or an explanation for those troubled days when I was blithely writing this August entry.  I think they came after, but not until I wade further into this journal will I remember.  I know after the days of rejection, we didn't realize how far-reaching the impact would be, particularly on my husband who received the full force of that cold wind.  I hope to learn more about the ways You are affecting healing even now.

But looking back I do see one important thing:  I anguished in prayer, and You answered.
I knocked, and You knocked, too.  In the end, You are surely also nourished by the people we are becoming as a result of this gauntlet we coursed--we Your remnant.
And...
You took the time to pause even then, to show puzzle pieces in a life-jigsaw that would take years to lock into their places.  At that August juncture ten years ago, we knew nothing about a suffering faith, not really.  We sought you as a Finisher, but could hardly believe you to be the Author of such a facet of faith.  Yet You spoke to us as if we already understood, because You knew one day we would understand...
For this, I thank You.  And I hope you continue speaking to the part of me that will understand...someday.