A last couple of entries to note, and this little brocade journal returns to the shelf. In its place, I'll take up a big, plain blue volume; but first to finish this little one:
March 12, 2005
I applied to teach at a Christian school and found out I had fibromyalgia both in the same week. Funny the paradox there: learning I have this "weakness" to work around even as God is showing me not to put so much focus on my own character, to put my focus more toward presenting Redemption. "Workers break down because their desire is for their own whiteness and not on God." (Oswald Chambers, January 31 entry of My Utmost for His Highest.) I can't present myself as "fully white" in terms of strength and capability any more. I must disclose this weakness now. Interesting this new twist in my path toward ministry.
Beyond that entry were a few pages of notes and sundry things: a page of scriptures to use in prayer, ideas for computer screen savers based on names of God, images of God, etc., and on the last page-- info on a xanga blog account that I never ended up using. I did start blogging shortly after that, but on blogger.
What a lot happened in that little volume! Certainly, more than I remembered.
Most interesting to me is how that last post foreshadowed the beginning of a far bigger life phase than I had any idea was beginning, one that only now is coming to some measure of satisfying closure. Back in 2005, I recognized the synchronicity of the job--which I would get and would work for 4 years--and the personal weakness. But, what I couldn't know then was how deeply the scalpel of that environment was going to cut into me. The job was ideal for His purposes as He prodded me into exploring that balance between my own whiteness, my own strength and their relative significance to the larger story of my very reason to exist. Personal whiteness and personal strength became things of great importance there, and I did much soul-searching before my time in that place was finished.
Best that the story unfold naturally as the cyber pages unfurl, but let it suffice to say I had no clue of the nature of this path where I'd planted my foot, nor of the treasures I'd find there. Had I known, I wouldn't have tossed the ideas in this last entry around so lightly. Soon I would find that balloon was actually full of lead and would become increasingly difficult to handle deftly. But everything works together for good if we just follow the trail far enough to find that next outpost.
Let's hit the next leg of the trail!
Friday, March 30, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
Receiving the Larger Call
Today, the entries usher in the high point of this particular little journal. Although positioned a little late in the text for a "proper" story-climax (only a couple of entries remain in this volume) it is nevertheless well-positioned. It is the link into journal volume number two.
Feb. 18, 2005
I'm re-reading the Gospels, starting with Matthew, and something hit me: timing matters...a lot, or maybe sequence. The "time for every purpose under heaven." I look at Christ's death and think, if the act of dying itself were the point, Jesus could have died when Herod went on the rampage, when He was just a babe. But simply dying wasn't all He was about. So the angel warned his parents to take flight into Egypt with the Child. Later in His life, when a proper time for submission to death was presented to Him, the angel came again, but came only to support Him before death and not to provide another flight by night.
This makes a good example for me to follow: rashly dying to self--if it happens before we are prepared, before we are positioned to do it as an act of submission and obedience--doesn't serve God's best purpose. But if it happens aright, it beautifully restates the "redemption of mankind for the Kingdom of God" and glorifies and re-affirms Christ's work on the Cross. I think it is time that I make a study of submission. Lately, I've run studies on suffering and holiness and most recently faith; but now I feel drawn to a submission study.
Feb. 28,2005 (God's response to my Jan. 9 cry)
Over the past month or so, God has been good to answer my question about my own ministry--particularly where I presented my confusion about the limitations of my gender.
Ever since that Jan 9 plea, God has been leading me toward accepting His particular call on me--His reason for making me. When I would ask, "What do you want from me?" He would whisper back, "The secret is in your name..."
Being a prophetess. He's shown me how I've been functioning in a sort of apprenticeship to that role for quite some time, working with both individuals and groups as an often reluctant leader. I've been interim director, helping church choirs through difficult and painful transitions; I've birthed new ministries like the coffee house worship chapel at St. L.
I've noticed a theme in my leadership call: to walk people through blind and difficult change. But today...as I read my Bible I feel the call confirmed in an even larger way. So, I turned to the book of Judges and read Deborah's story all over again. I see where she fulfilled her call: not at a church pulpit. Not within the curtains of the tabernacle. She served under a palm tree. Nowhere are there scriptural restrictions against that!
And, not only was she a prophetess, she was also a judge. I read about her and about Jael. Those goosebumps of crystal clarity--that sudden focus of a fuzzy lens--they struck me. So exciting when that happens! God placed Deborah and Jael just so, placed them as a sign among the people that HE was the one in charge!
Pagan powers (Canaanites) were in coalition and were oppressing God's people. These oppressors were equipped with the most sophisticated weaponry of their day (iron chariots) and because God's people had done evil, they were given over into the hands of these oppressors...for 20 years.
Then, God raised up Deborah, a woman to judge and to prophesy. A woman to lead and give encouragement where many quaked and doubted the strength and courage at their disposal.
He raised up Jael, a woman to conquer.
To His spiritually parched people, God proved Himself by ascribing victory to these two women, a hesitant military leader--Barak, and a small army--only 10,000 strong. With these few, God conquered a mighty coalition.
I am reminded of the verses about the foolishness/weakness of God being so much greater than the wisdom and strength of men. So many churches now focus on our God as the God of Love, and this is a good thing, but He has other attributes to glorify. These same churches often harshly rebuke any leadership but that which is found in their own ranks of influential community men. Not only do they not visit their Deborahs, they don't call their Davids in from the field. Have they considered these things? Have they lost sight of God's own freedom when they strategize about power and freedom? Do they acknowledge that God might--indeed has called a woman to prophecy, a woman to conquer? Do they acknowledge that the God they'd like to see as tepid (and why might that be?)has His own Battle Cry that He might raise in its proper day, and without their counsel?
In the cosmic battle, here I see like a chess game between God and Satan, how particularly rich it is when God decides to take out the opponent's queen with nothing but a little pawn. In such a move, it is the chess master alone who gets all the glory, the pawn is still just a pawn. There isn't even a shred of built-in power in the pawn, as there is in say a knight or a bishop. So God is the author of all knowledge and power, and sometimes He uses the frail to drive that point home. But what of the community of chess pieces? Can the knight or the bishop allow that dignity--the honor of making the winning play--go to a lesser piece? It's a mystery.
Is there any place where God can raise up a Deborah today?
Later in the back of this volume of the journal series, where I put things I called "appendix-ish" material, I added this note:
"Another reference about the increase of the role of women in certain eras: Isaiah 32. The first 8 verses establish a picture of a society such as Deborah's--such as our own. But God does not fill the gap between picturing this depraved society and the age of peace with a call to arms for His warrior men. No, here, particularly starting in vs. 9, God calls the women to a higher mission. They are told to rise up, scrap their finery, dress in mourning, don the clothing of their poor neighbors--basically they are called to identify with the suffering ones, to prepare themselves to comfort the mourners.
After the in-between days when the women embrace sobriety, when the places of power and industry are laid low, THEN the work of righteousness will be peace "and people will dwell in a sure dwellings and quiet resting places." So different from the warfare plans we tend to poke in that open place.
That shift I saw as my "first" true prophetic observation: it is happening, but there is still much to do.
Right now, many women continue as ones preoccupied with things that diminish their God-ordained strength--the strength to set aside easy finery and self-focused comfort, to take up sackcloth and ashes alongside their neighbors, to walk in the strength of true compassion.
But God will not leave this stasis to last for long. Only He is changeless. We are ever moving--and through our movement highlight His stability, the one whose immutability we orbit.
Once before, He regarded the low estate of His handmaiden. Through Isaiah He ordained it to be so again...this time for a generation of handmaidens.
In the words of our model, Mary: Behold the handmaiden of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word...
Feb. 18, 2005
I'm re-reading the Gospels, starting with Matthew, and something hit me: timing matters...a lot, or maybe sequence. The "time for every purpose under heaven." I look at Christ's death and think, if the act of dying itself were the point, Jesus could have died when Herod went on the rampage, when He was just a babe. But simply dying wasn't all He was about. So the angel warned his parents to take flight into Egypt with the Child. Later in His life, when a proper time for submission to death was presented to Him, the angel came again, but came only to support Him before death and not to provide another flight by night.
This makes a good example for me to follow: rashly dying to self--if it happens before we are prepared, before we are positioned to do it as an act of submission and obedience--doesn't serve God's best purpose. But if it happens aright, it beautifully restates the "redemption of mankind for the Kingdom of God" and glorifies and re-affirms Christ's work on the Cross. I think it is time that I make a study of submission. Lately, I've run studies on suffering and holiness and most recently faith; but now I feel drawn to a submission study.
Feb. 28,2005 (God's response to my Jan. 9 cry)
Over the past month or so, God has been good to answer my question about my own ministry--particularly where I presented my confusion about the limitations of my gender.
Ever since that Jan 9 plea, God has been leading me toward accepting His particular call on me--His reason for making me. When I would ask, "What do you want from me?" He would whisper back, "The secret is in your name..."
Being a prophetess. He's shown me how I've been functioning in a sort of apprenticeship to that role for quite some time, working with both individuals and groups as an often reluctant leader. I've been interim director, helping church choirs through difficult and painful transitions; I've birthed new ministries like the coffee house worship chapel at St. L.
I've noticed a theme in my leadership call: to walk people through blind and difficult change. But today...as I read my Bible I feel the call confirmed in an even larger way. So, I turned to the book of Judges and read Deborah's story all over again. I see where she fulfilled her call: not at a church pulpit. Not within the curtains of the tabernacle. She served under a palm tree. Nowhere are there scriptural restrictions against that!
And, not only was she a prophetess, she was also a judge. I read about her and about Jael. Those goosebumps of crystal clarity--that sudden focus of a fuzzy lens--they struck me. So exciting when that happens! God placed Deborah and Jael just so, placed them as a sign among the people that HE was the one in charge!
Pagan powers (Canaanites) were in coalition and were oppressing God's people. These oppressors were equipped with the most sophisticated weaponry of their day (iron chariots) and because God's people had done evil, they were given over into the hands of these oppressors...for 20 years.
Then, God raised up Deborah, a woman to judge and to prophesy. A woman to lead and give encouragement where many quaked and doubted the strength and courage at their disposal.
He raised up Jael, a woman to conquer.
To His spiritually parched people, God proved Himself by ascribing victory to these two women, a hesitant military leader--Barak, and a small army--only 10,000 strong. With these few, God conquered a mighty coalition.
I am reminded of the verses about the foolishness/weakness of God being so much greater than the wisdom and strength of men. So many churches now focus on our God as the God of Love, and this is a good thing, but He has other attributes to glorify. These same churches often harshly rebuke any leadership but that which is found in their own ranks of influential community men. Not only do they not visit their Deborahs, they don't call their Davids in from the field. Have they considered these things? Have they lost sight of God's own freedom when they strategize about power and freedom? Do they acknowledge that God might--indeed has called a woman to prophecy, a woman to conquer? Do they acknowledge that the God they'd like to see as tepid (and why might that be?)has His own Battle Cry that He might raise in its proper day, and without their counsel?
In the cosmic battle, here I see like a chess game between God and Satan, how particularly rich it is when God decides to take out the opponent's queen with nothing but a little pawn. In such a move, it is the chess master alone who gets all the glory, the pawn is still just a pawn. There isn't even a shred of built-in power in the pawn, as there is in say a knight or a bishop. So God is the author of all knowledge and power, and sometimes He uses the frail to drive that point home. But what of the community of chess pieces? Can the knight or the bishop allow that dignity--the honor of making the winning play--go to a lesser piece? It's a mystery.
Is there any place where God can raise up a Deborah today?
Later in the back of this volume of the journal series, where I put things I called "appendix-ish" material, I added this note:
"Another reference about the increase of the role of women in certain eras: Isaiah 32. The first 8 verses establish a picture of a society such as Deborah's--such as our own. But God does not fill the gap between picturing this depraved society and the age of peace with a call to arms for His warrior men. No, here, particularly starting in vs. 9, God calls the women to a higher mission. They are told to rise up, scrap their finery, dress in mourning, don the clothing of their poor neighbors--basically they are called to identify with the suffering ones, to prepare themselves to comfort the mourners.
After the in-between days when the women embrace sobriety, when the places of power and industry are laid low, THEN the work of righteousness will be peace "and people will dwell in a sure dwellings and quiet resting places." So different from the warfare plans we tend to poke in that open place.
That shift I saw as my "first" true prophetic observation: it is happening, but there is still much to do.
Right now, many women continue as ones preoccupied with things that diminish their God-ordained strength--the strength to set aside easy finery and self-focused comfort, to take up sackcloth and ashes alongside their neighbors, to walk in the strength of true compassion.
But God will not leave this stasis to last for long. Only He is changeless. We are ever moving--and through our movement highlight His stability, the one whose immutability we orbit.
Once before, He regarded the low estate of His handmaiden. Through Isaiah He ordained it to be so again...this time for a generation of handmaidens.
In the words of our model, Mary: Behold the handmaiden of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word...
Monday, March 19, 2012
Splendor in the Grass
As I did my Bible reading this morning, I did so under the glaze of yesterday's journal entry. Today, I read the story of the miracle of distribution: the story of the loaves and fishes from Mark.
I used a lectio divina technique: I read with particular focus on whatever captured my attention--a word or a phrase. What captured my attention this reading was that He put the people in groups--50 to 100 per group--before He blessed and broke the loaves and divided the fish and served them. Why that little factoid, God? I know--especially in the succinct Gospel of Mark--to the spiritual reader, nothing is added simply for flourish, as a local flavor. All has a power to instruct, to edify. Why this little tidbit?
And I felt the Spirit of God bring to my remembrance yesterday's journal review. I heard Him say, "Christ foreshadowed the Church era in this act." A day would come when various denominations would grow hungry and tired and turn to pick at each other.
A day would come when people would die for choosing one church over another, despite that both fell within a circle that acknowledged the Christ as Lord.
A day would come when one man's philosophy would take harsh rhetoric against an other's, marring the faith of both and the beauty of all their praise.
A day would come--and is today--when a man's hyper-focus on the life of the moment would make him take up spiritual arms, tongue-lashing another, even one whose faith toward the here-after makes them close brothers in the eternal.
A day would come when those who do profess their eyes on larger realms, the realm of the spirit, see only God's vengeance there, mouth-foamers who proceed to protest at little old ladies' Christian funerals when those little old ladies happen to die in tornadoes or hurricanes--acts of God.
These are they for whom that factoid was added. These are they who will be reminded on Judgment Day or sooner if they are wise:
He sat them in groups. Each group He commanded.
He provided enough food for all, with food enough to spare.
The disciples would have sent each person on his own way. Their compassion reached as far as the people's bellies and the nearest obvious resources. But Christ had more in mind for those who would follow Him. Christ had a worthy moment in time to fashion, a moment worth living out for the sake of the ages. A moment for future generations to look back on and bless as a lesson.
He sat them in groups...and He fed them.
February 1, 2005
I turned 41 years old yesterday. Now I'm old. (ha ha) I was reading a graph in my Bible reading in 2 Corinthians today and got to musing on it. It compared the Old Covenant with the New Covenant. For the first time, the thought came to me: why two covenants? The new one was obviously so much better--at least from the human standpoint. So why have the old one at all? Why run all those lives through the world before the "good stuff" got here? It's like the whole failing-Eve thing. Why death before real life? God created all, so technically He created the vehicle through which mankind failed Him...so, why? He is the author of free-will, and He certainly has it Himself, so He chose this, knowing we'd fail. Why use that? I'm curious, God.
Since I wrote this, I've been blessed to read various philosophical texts that led me to feel I had at least the beginning of God's answers for that Old/New Covenant question. The book of Romans began to speak richly to me as I allowed myself to ask hard questions...but the point of beauty to me now as I look back is this: I asked.
In the days of my consideration of an assignment in ministry, I noted that there was an unspoken contract between people and some of their human shepherds--a sort of "don't ask, I can't tell" policy. It works like this: somewhere inside your soul, you perceived that there were questions too large for your minister to answer, so you graciously didn't ask those questions. Well, I asked those questions. Fortunately, I had pastors who either had good answers, good textual resources to offer me, or at the very least an honest and transparent enough spirit to say, "I don't have that one answered yet either. Let's keep seeking God since the question is in your heart." But many people are so kind that they don't even ask.
The problem is, these same people project that fragility of knowledge onto God, too. If the question is too large for a human to answer, they quit asking. They don't think they are "allowed" to ask man, so they don't ask God, either. They project on Him the same shame they fear they would lay on a pastor who had no answer for their probing questions. They presume they would offend God in the asking. Strange, but the very measure of grace in the cup of their hearts keeps them unnecessarily in ignorance. Sadly and ironically, scripture contains nuggets here and there that point to God actually loving when we bring these queries to Him. "Come, let us reason together," He invites. No question is too large for Him to receive, and none too large for Him to fashion some sort of answer that we can comprehend, even if it be only a partial answer due to our limited vision.
But, as the epistle says, if you ask for wisdom, ask in faith. Don't be double-minded. Ask with purity. Ask because you really want the answer--and not just because you want to justify a cherished belief or doctrine. You might have to let some things go to make room for His answer.
You might have to let go of squabbling with the group sitting next to you in the grass. I've heard some say (those who like to explain away miracles because their empirical minds can't believe in a good that flows from a place outside the measurable) I've heard them say, "Well, He probably guilted those who were hiding/hoarding food into sharing when He sat them in mini-communities like that. There was no miracle there." But the older I get; the longer I watch mob mentality in action and the longer I see selfishness shackle human hearts, the more I'm inclined to say, "No miracle? Brother, if that is the real story, then surely an even larger miracle happened than that He pulled bread out of thin air!" It diminishes nothing on the scale of the miraculous, really, because whatever their hunger--whether for food in their bellies or unselfishness in their souls--
He sat them in groups...and He fed them.
I used a lectio divina technique: I read with particular focus on whatever captured my attention--a word or a phrase. What captured my attention this reading was that He put the people in groups--50 to 100 per group--before He blessed and broke the loaves and divided the fish and served them. Why that little factoid, God? I know--especially in the succinct Gospel of Mark--to the spiritual reader, nothing is added simply for flourish, as a local flavor. All has a power to instruct, to edify. Why this little tidbit?
And I felt the Spirit of God bring to my remembrance yesterday's journal review. I heard Him say, "Christ foreshadowed the Church era in this act." A day would come when various denominations would grow hungry and tired and turn to pick at each other.
A day would come when people would die for choosing one church over another, despite that both fell within a circle that acknowledged the Christ as Lord.
A day would come when one man's philosophy would take harsh rhetoric against an other's, marring the faith of both and the beauty of all their praise.
A day would come--and is today--when a man's hyper-focus on the life of the moment would make him take up spiritual arms, tongue-lashing another, even one whose faith toward the here-after makes them close brothers in the eternal.
A day would come when those who do profess their eyes on larger realms, the realm of the spirit, see only God's vengeance there, mouth-foamers who proceed to protest at little old ladies' Christian funerals when those little old ladies happen to die in tornadoes or hurricanes--acts of God.
These are they for whom that factoid was added. These are they who will be reminded on Judgment Day or sooner if they are wise:
He sat them in groups. Each group He commanded.
He provided enough food for all, with food enough to spare.
The disciples would have sent each person on his own way. Their compassion reached as far as the people's bellies and the nearest obvious resources. But Christ had more in mind for those who would follow Him. Christ had a worthy moment in time to fashion, a moment worth living out for the sake of the ages. A moment for future generations to look back on and bless as a lesson.
He sat them in groups...and He fed them.
February 1, 2005
I turned 41 years old yesterday. Now I'm old. (ha ha) I was reading a graph in my Bible reading in 2 Corinthians today and got to musing on it. It compared the Old Covenant with the New Covenant. For the first time, the thought came to me: why two covenants? The new one was obviously so much better--at least from the human standpoint. So why have the old one at all? Why run all those lives through the world before the "good stuff" got here? It's like the whole failing-Eve thing. Why death before real life? God created all, so technically He created the vehicle through which mankind failed Him...so, why? He is the author of free-will, and He certainly has it Himself, so He chose this, knowing we'd fail. Why use that? I'm curious, God.
Since I wrote this, I've been blessed to read various philosophical texts that led me to feel I had at least the beginning of God's answers for that Old/New Covenant question. The book of Romans began to speak richly to me as I allowed myself to ask hard questions...but the point of beauty to me now as I look back is this: I asked.
In the days of my consideration of an assignment in ministry, I noted that there was an unspoken contract between people and some of their human shepherds--a sort of "don't ask, I can't tell" policy. It works like this: somewhere inside your soul, you perceived that there were questions too large for your minister to answer, so you graciously didn't ask those questions. Well, I asked those questions. Fortunately, I had pastors who either had good answers, good textual resources to offer me, or at the very least an honest and transparent enough spirit to say, "I don't have that one answered yet either. Let's keep seeking God since the question is in your heart." But many people are so kind that they don't even ask.
The problem is, these same people project that fragility of knowledge onto God, too. If the question is too large for a human to answer, they quit asking. They don't think they are "allowed" to ask man, so they don't ask God, either. They project on Him the same shame they fear they would lay on a pastor who had no answer for their probing questions. They presume they would offend God in the asking. Strange, but the very measure of grace in the cup of their hearts keeps them unnecessarily in ignorance. Sadly and ironically, scripture contains nuggets here and there that point to God actually loving when we bring these queries to Him. "Come, let us reason together," He invites. No question is too large for Him to receive, and none too large for Him to fashion some sort of answer that we can comprehend, even if it be only a partial answer due to our limited vision.
But, as the epistle says, if you ask for wisdom, ask in faith. Don't be double-minded. Ask with purity. Ask because you really want the answer--and not just because you want to justify a cherished belief or doctrine. You might have to let some things go to make room for His answer.
You might have to let go of squabbling with the group sitting next to you in the grass. I've heard some say (those who like to explain away miracles because their empirical minds can't believe in a good that flows from a place outside the measurable) I've heard them say, "Well, He probably guilted those who were hiding/hoarding food into sharing when He sat them in mini-communities like that. There was no miracle there." But the older I get; the longer I watch mob mentality in action and the longer I see selfishness shackle human hearts, the more I'm inclined to say, "No miracle? Brother, if that is the real story, then surely an even larger miracle happened than that He pulled bread out of thin air!" It diminishes nothing on the scale of the miraculous, really, because whatever their hunger--whether for food in their bellies or unselfishness in their souls--
He sat them in groups...and He fed them.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Who Do You Say I Am?
A hard week in my current life took me away from the blog for a bit. I don't want to let current stresses skew my backward glance. I don't want my eyes to run over the page and my lips to mouth words that my mind isn't internalizing, so I set it aside.
I'm in a better place now. I can return to my former scrawling with eyes that see the words as both the seeds planted and as the growth that has come from them thus far.
January 15, 2005
Last night in the bathtub, I meant to relax reading a library book entitled, "The Life of Christ for Dummies." Given the title, I figured it to be a relatively light read--good for a tub soak. But as I began thumbing through the book and glancing through the appendices, I read about Christ's "Motley Crew" and found deeper thoughts begin to surface than I expected to pull from this book.
I read about Judas Iscariot in a new way. He was described in terms that startled me: not as the perpetual bad guy biding his time until he could finally put his diabolical scheme into effect, but rather as one zealous for the poor. When he saw Jesus approving the squandering of expensive perfume on himself, Judas thought Jesus was abandoning His mission to care for the poor and was giving in to the temptation to become like the "corrupt religio-political leaders" that he'd previously condemned. Judas gave Jesus over into the hands of those he felt Jesus was now trying to now emulate. I've never looked at him this way! It speaks to me about where I want to go to church. We've visited around since we moved down here to the city, but haven't found that "place" where we're meant to go. I've not really thought about how the "social doctrine" promoters of today can be just as bad as the religio-political power brokers are if they end up re-enacting this sort of modern-day Judas. If we put care for the poor and needy--our social doctrine--in this life above our or their personal relationship with the Christ, if we supersede potentialities for the next life with compulsively relieving current stresses, then we will stay obtuse in sin. When Jesus decides to do something that is larger than our social-doctrine minds can comprehend, then we balk and betray Him.
Judas betrayed His purpose; Peter betrayed His heart. Interesting that Peter understood His purpose well enough to avail himself of forgiveness even though he had denied their relationship; while Judas was so preoccupied with Christ's earthly ministry that he utterly missed the eternal aspect, and when he failed on an earthly scale, he felt he had no recourse but suicide. Ultimately, no humanitarian inclinations will in their own virtue protect one from the road of death.
Now that I'm at the end of reading and recording it, I can see why You kept me from this one until today. It was not just the sadness of the last few days. Not just the distracted uneasiness. For reasons I can't even begin to detail here, this post falling this weekend is a moment of deep ministry from my former self to my current one. It is as if I knelt before the younger me and received a gentle hand on my old, graying head, heard a whispered blessing--a blessed reminder that things eternal trump things temporal...
every time...
I'm in a better place now. I can return to my former scrawling with eyes that see the words as both the seeds planted and as the growth that has come from them thus far.
January 15, 2005
Last night in the bathtub, I meant to relax reading a library book entitled, "The Life of Christ for Dummies." Given the title, I figured it to be a relatively light read--good for a tub soak. But as I began thumbing through the book and glancing through the appendices, I read about Christ's "Motley Crew" and found deeper thoughts begin to surface than I expected to pull from this book.
I read about Judas Iscariot in a new way. He was described in terms that startled me: not as the perpetual bad guy biding his time until he could finally put his diabolical scheme into effect, but rather as one zealous for the poor. When he saw Jesus approving the squandering of expensive perfume on himself, Judas thought Jesus was abandoning His mission to care for the poor and was giving in to the temptation to become like the "corrupt religio-political leaders" that he'd previously condemned. Judas gave Jesus over into the hands of those he felt Jesus was now trying to now emulate. I've never looked at him this way! It speaks to me about where I want to go to church. We've visited around since we moved down here to the city, but haven't found that "place" where we're meant to go. I've not really thought about how the "social doctrine" promoters of today can be just as bad as the religio-political power brokers are if they end up re-enacting this sort of modern-day Judas. If we put care for the poor and needy--our social doctrine--in this life above our or their personal relationship with the Christ, if we supersede potentialities for the next life with compulsively relieving current stresses, then we will stay obtuse in sin. When Jesus decides to do something that is larger than our social-doctrine minds can comprehend, then we balk and betray Him.
Judas betrayed His purpose; Peter betrayed His heart. Interesting that Peter understood His purpose well enough to avail himself of forgiveness even though he had denied their relationship; while Judas was so preoccupied with Christ's earthly ministry that he utterly missed the eternal aspect, and when he failed on an earthly scale, he felt he had no recourse but suicide. Ultimately, no humanitarian inclinations will in their own virtue protect one from the road of death.
Now that I'm at the end of reading and recording it, I can see why You kept me from this one until today. It was not just the sadness of the last few days. Not just the distracted uneasiness. For reasons I can't even begin to detail here, this post falling this weekend is a moment of deep ministry from my former self to my current one. It is as if I knelt before the younger me and received a gentle hand on my old, graying head, heard a whispered blessing--a blessed reminder that things eternal trump things temporal...
every time...
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Postscript
I took a walk after the last post.
After the anguishing.
After the praying.
I entered the listening.
I looked up and I saw a tree.
A greedy tree.
It would not drop its dead leaves.
And they rattled noisily around in every breeze.
But they are being pushed out of the way
By new growth.
Something green is quietly,
Finding its place.
I looked down and I saw some dead ground cover.
Once ornamental no doubt, long ago.
A pleasure to the eye, but
Now, a mulchy spread at best.
Still, its dead overlay serves some purpose.
It protects that tender new growth hidden deep beneath.
And I heard You whisper in Your grace:
"As sure as chimes ring in a wind,
When you are ready to be in the sun and wind and rain
I will reach in and clear away last year's death."
It is spring in every way!
After the anguishing.
After the praying.
I entered the listening.
I looked up and I saw a tree.
A greedy tree.
It would not drop its dead leaves.
And they rattled noisily around in every breeze.
But they are being pushed out of the way
By new growth.
Something green is quietly,
Finding its place.
I looked down and I saw some dead ground cover.
Once ornamental no doubt, long ago.
A pleasure to the eye, but
Now, a mulchy spread at best.
Still, its dead overlay serves some purpose.
It protects that tender new growth hidden deep beneath.
And I heard You whisper in Your grace:
"As sure as chimes ring in a wind,
When you are ready to be in the sun and wind and rain
I will reach in and clear away last year's death."
It is spring in every way!
In the Pink
Recently, I read this article about the "unreal" color pink. http://www.npr.org/blogs/krulwich/2012/02/28/147590898/they-did-it-to-pluto-but-not-to-pink-please-not-pink?sc=fb&cc=fp
It occurred to me that I love pink! You'll never convince me it isn't there just because the science of light waves can't support the color's existence.
And my soul sees pink as well.
January 9, 2005
I think I've discovered one of the things holding me up in my plans regarding ordination into ministry, etc. It's the whole "being a woman" thing. There are some parts of the Bible I can't read with a good attitude, and I'm certainly not ready to address them as a minister. I struggle when I read:
It occurred to me that I love pink! You'll never convince me it isn't there just because the science of light waves can't support the color's existence.
And my soul sees pink as well.
January 9, 2005
I think I've discovered one of the things holding me up in my plans regarding ordination into ministry, etc. It's the whole "being a woman" thing. There are some parts of the Bible I can't read with a good attitude, and I'm certainly not ready to address them as a minister. I struggle when I read:
| Let your women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak; but [they are commanded] to be under obedience, as also saith the law. | |
| And if they will learn any thing, let them ask their husbands at home: for it is a shame for women to speak in the church. | |
| What? came the word of God out from you? or came it unto you
only? I need wisdom and knowledge, Lord, for this rejection breaks my heart! I thought you liked that Mary sat at your feet? I love that story, but this one makes me outraged or at least whiny. One thing I know...I must allow myself to be "of no account" on any front You present to me--I must take up my cross...even this one. I will submit. I will be silent. If my words are to ever be read or heard, it will be by Your initiative and not my own. I should say this with humility, but in truth, right now these verses stick in my craw. I have a "Well, fine!" attitude in response to this "Who do you think you are? You're just a woman!" Reveal Your truth, O God! Help me fit the peg of my life into the puzzle according to what I know about the nature of Your love...love even for women. (today) This lament was just the dawning of awareness. It foretold awareness of a tide that has rolled in on the beach of my life pretty much all aong. It was a whisper in the moonlight here, but soon the rushing waves pounded and made me lose my footing. For some reason, I'm one of those people "chosen" to be constantly under critique--and I'm so impressionable that I've learned to eloquently add my own voice to the barrage of criticism, picking apart both my failures and my successes. If I fail, I rarely hear: "Aww, don't get too depressed. You surely learned something, so you'll probably do better next time." I say those things to others--particularly to encourage children--but I rarely hear them. Instead, I hear or say to myself if no one else notes my failure: "Well, if you'd only done ________ then you would have been fine!" Or maybe my failure isn't dealt with so directly by others; maybe it just endures passive-aggressive hinted barbs: "People who _______ are soooo annoying!" said right after I've done that very thing, and often unwitting that it's a bother until I'm told. As for my successes, those around me are always quick to see and point out ways I could have been even more successful, and I can't hear a "Well done!" without it being adulterated with those recommendations, too. Again, my self-talk drifts this direction as well. There are days when it feels like I can't move without having to attend to someone's disappointment in my performance in all things--literally, all things: from how I wash a platter to how I sleep. And no one person is to blame, so no one person recognizes the effects of such a barrage. To any one person, it's a moment of well-intentioned advice. To me, the recipient of all this advice, it is a Chinese water torture. No, some bogle has attached itself to me. It feeds off this particular type of discord and invites everyone who comes within a 10 foot radius of me to feed it. For a long time, my way of cooperating in this ugly dance was to believe that "fixing" whatever was presented to me would solve the problem. Listening to the criticism, taking it to heart, working hard to change...but there is to this day still no light at the end of this dark tunnel. For one thing, some things aren't easily fixed--like the hormonal imbalance in my thyroid that has weakened me for years and was only just discovered. It was slow-going, but the damage is reversible and strength is returning slowly. But now, I walk the early days of having my faucet fixed if you will. No more slow drip of strength washing away, but I'm discovering something surprising: the bogle hasn't gone away just because the strength to do well is returning. After all, he never was content oriented. He was all about atmosphere. A "demon of the air" if you will. Fodder lays all over the place for criticizing imperfect humans and making them discontent with their very personhood--and that was, after all, his objective. Plenty of tools lie in easy reach, tools for making humans feel shame over their imperfections--especially if they are the type to genuinely hope they make life better for those around them. Look at him: he's the country cousin to the demon who thrives on attachment to humans who glory in their imperfection. I finally saw his game when he played his ace untimely: making the move to condemn the things that can't be changed. Here's one such unchangeable-ace he likes to play to trump all tricks: you are beneath esteem because you are a woman. Maybe the man who lives with you will condescend to teach you a thing or two--much like the novelty of teaching a dog to fetch a bone or shake hands. But ultimately such things are just a light diversion for the man. It's all just fluff, really, because nothing is going to increase your intrinsic value, woman. In certain circles of the Christian faith, being born a woman is akin to being born an untouchable in India in the sense that your value will always be measured by your submissiveness, and your potential for value within yourself will always be nil. "In childbirth is her salvation." And that's the rub: we'd all love to feel we are people of stand-alone value. After all, we are born a singular entity, we die alone, we are judged alone. But our value is role-based. Really? Is it merely pride that makes us want to push our way past another's value. I'd say no. Sometimes, something inside us--maybe that image of God part--finds it deeply offensive to be told we are designed without value, without potential to bring a smile to the face of our Creator unless someone in between us gives the nod. I can trust Christ as that mediator, but I find it hazardous to allow others to usurp His place. I am not strong enough yet to see His eyes even in a malevolent face. Of course, I'm so well-conditioned in this restless dissatisfaction, this hopelessness over the things that can't be changed that my self-talk immediately runs to reminders of verses about God fashioning some vessels for honor and some for dishonor. But in this area, I'd reason back to myself that if I've been implanted with a longing to experience God's lovingkindness and mercy, his joy and peace, then it makes Him the worst sort of capricious if He brushes off my ache for Him so callously on the recommendation of an authority who makes jokes of my submission and really doesn't esteem it as a gift--as I overheard a few religious young men doing the other day regarding "their women." If I turn away from His lovingkindness because of some human's cavalier disparagement of me then Rahab would surely rise up to condemn me. As would Huldah. As would Deborah, for whom I am namesake. What do I do with this, God? I see pink--in the sky, in a flower...and I long to glory in the beauty of it. I hate being told it simply can't exist when my heart can see it! What do I do with this? I asked God about it this morning. Oh, I've made a sort of peace with the female-calling thing lodged in this old journal entry, you'll read of it soon enough--or might suspect it even now from that little cloud of females I drew around me just above. Nevertheless, I deal with a constant encroachment of thorns that say, "You should be different; by my estimation and for my sake, you should be different." These human thorns condemn with every prick. What should I do with these? The first words to come to mind in answer are the proverbial verse: be cunning as a serpent and gentle as a dove. Grasp the stem of the rose carefully. You can appreciate the aroma and the loveliness of the bloom only if you are careful how you hold the stem in your hand. The next words to come to mind when I pray about this are odd ones. I pictured a monkey on my back, his hairy knuckles ever reaching over my shoulder to point to the work of my hands with his mouth full of fault-finding language. I envision him as I deal with my hope for freedom. "Go away now. I don't need you anymore," I say over my shoulder to the monkey. I don't need you anymore? Interesting. What purpose hasthis unredeemed submission to the monkey's correction been serving that I ever needed? Reveal Your purpose to me, Lord. Redeem the time, all the time...all 48 years of it! Amen... |
Monday, March 5, 2012
Drive Time
Autumn of 2004: my one year of life spent as a full-fledged commuter, with an hour's drive each way to and from work. One school year was all I spent driving like that, but it was enough to give me plenty of "driving analogies" for my prayer life. Here is analogy number two:
Sept. 16
Using the Cruise Control and the Power of the Holy Spirit
"If any man will come after me, let him deny himself..." Matt 16:24.
Denying self equates to allowing someone or something else to take control of what drives you. But if an "autopilot" basically does whatever we would do anyway, have we really denied ourselves? And, if we only give up partial control--as in give up governing speed but not direction, like with cruise control--have we really denied ourselves? Jesus wishes us to be one with Him even as He is one with the Father, but I think we often approach that goal as if it were like cruise control. Give up some, but not all, power along the journey.
Now I can look back and add to this analogy. If we DO achieve total abandonment to God, like having a cruise control and a GPS that in tandem can completely take our cars wherever ywe need to go--hands free/feet free driving--then the next challenge is believing tha tother cars around us are being "directed" by the same benevolent satellite that moves us along. Could we believe in that Oneness of control should some other car cut us off in traffic? What if a car wears a bumper sticker that says it has that futuristic On Star control we're imagining, but it is really being driven by a lying, maniacal fiend, his hands firmly on the wheel and road rage in his heart? (grin)
Would we, in a reflex move, grab at the wheel at such a moment?
How would we feel about his having the "right" to share the road with us?
Sept. 16
Using the Cruise Control and the Power of the Holy Spirit
"If any man will come after me, let him deny himself..." Matt 16:24.
Denying self equates to allowing someone or something else to take control of what drives you. But if an "autopilot" basically does whatever we would do anyway, have we really denied ourselves? And, if we only give up partial control--as in give up governing speed but not direction, like with cruise control--have we really denied ourselves? Jesus wishes us to be one with Him even as He is one with the Father, but I think we often approach that goal as if it were like cruise control. Give up some, but not all, power along the journey.
Now I can look back and add to this analogy. If we DO achieve total abandonment to God, like having a cruise control and a GPS that in tandem can completely take our cars wherever ywe need to go--hands free/feet free driving--then the next challenge is believing tha tother cars around us are being "directed" by the same benevolent satellite that moves us along. Could we believe in that Oneness of control should some other car cut us off in traffic? What if a car wears a bumper sticker that says it has that futuristic On Star control we're imagining, but it is really being driven by a lying, maniacal fiend, his hands firmly on the wheel and road rage in his heart? (grin)
Would we, in a reflex move, grab at the wheel at such a moment?
How would we feel about his having the "right" to share the road with us?
Friday, March 2, 2012
States of Matter and More Car Time
Recently, a friend blogged on the fluid nature of life. Synchronously, I wrote a little poem on this "states of matter" topic:
"There is a way that seemeth right to a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death..." Proverbs 16:25
The way of death is like a man who conquers a mountain of ice.
But what is the ice?
A faulty solid.
Utterly dependent on the climate of the day.
He plants his flag, but soon
A warm wind blows, and ice become water
And water, steam.
Tthe wind whisks it away
While he and his flag
Are left standing there
silly...
This blog is taking me to a high-view realization: humans are time snobs.
It presents in many ways:
Now on to today's roadside analogy:
September 19
Servanthood and the Rental Car
“When a servant comes in from plowing or taking care of sheep, does his master say, ‘Come in and eat with me’? No, he says, ‘Prepare my meal, put on your apron, and serve me while I eat. Then you can eat later.’ And does the master thank the servant for doing what he was told to do? Of course not. In the same way, when you obey me you should say, ‘We are unworthy servants who have simply done our duty.’” Luke 17:5-10
Even after an amazing display of faith, servanthood should retain its humility. Servanthood is a lot like being a rental car--even a high-end rental car.
Two areas still give me the most trouble: allowing that statio time when God whispers I'm between assignments and accepting trips to places I don't want to visit. Also, maybe accepting driving practices that aren't good for me, and believing the "agency" is really keeping my best interests in mind, especially in this era when loving the profit exceeds loving the car.
That's where the analogy has to end.
God is definitely a collector who loves every model in his fleet!
"There is a way that seemeth right to a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death..." Proverbs 16:25
The way of death is like a man who conquers a mountain of ice.
But what is the ice?
A faulty solid.
Utterly dependent on the climate of the day.
He plants his flag, but soon
A warm wind blows, and ice become water
And water, steam.
Tthe wind whisks it away
While he and his flag
Are left standing there
silly...
This blog is taking me to a high-view realization: humans are time snobs.
It presents in many ways:
- In religion, for instance, with Arianism's position on the Trinity. It was established and renounced in the 300's; but now, identical non-Trinitarian beliefs are promoted as new and secret truths, deluding many who have an affinity for perceived novelty. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arianism
- In politics, with US political party flopping, over things like states' rights over the course of generations. Back when there were Whigs around, Republicans and Democrats were philosophically very different from who they are now--yet modern thinking "presumes" a consistency that simply isn't real. Little do we realize things like "yesteryear's republican IS today's democrat." We think that because labels look solid in our own lifetime, they have always been this particular solid. Not so.
- In culture, we ridicule the styles of art and fashion embraced by the generation just prior to ours even as we scavenge the "vintage treasures" of the generation prior to theirs, the one whose style they ridiculed...round and round.
Now on to today's roadside analogy:
September 19
Servanthood and the Rental Car
The apostles said to the Lord, “Show us how to increase
our faith.”
The Lord answered, “If you had faith even
as small as a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘May you be
uprooted and thrown into the sea,’ and it would obey you!“When a servant comes in from plowing or taking care of sheep, does his master say, ‘Come in and eat with me’? No, he says, ‘Prepare my meal, put on your apron, and serve me while I eat. Then you can eat later.’ And does the master thank the servant for doing what he was told to do? Of course not. In the same way, when you obey me you should say, ‘We are unworthy servants who have simply done our duty.’” Luke 17:5-10
Even after an amazing display of faith, servanthood should retain its humility. Servanthood is a lot like being a rental car--even a high-end rental car.
- Being a rental car means you serve, but mostly you aren't "owned" by the one you serve. You're "owned" by God, which makes serving the renter take on a different sort of significance. Your motives for pleasing the renter are always overshadowed by how your reliability reflects on the rental agency, which would be God.
- You might suffer abuse that a renter wouldn't inflict on a car he owned personally. But, you also have the assurance that when you are "returned" (as you better well be!) you will be carefully inspected for damage and repaired, or at least given routine maintenance and clean-up work before being sent out again. Sometimes, I forget to allow for that statio time, and then I blame God when my next assignment really throws me out of alignment.
- Rental cars are meek. They have no stake in where they're going after they've been rented. They go where the renter wants to be taken, accepting that if this weren't an allowable trip, the owner wouldn't have agreed to the contract. As long as I have put it in the owner's hands to rent me--the car--out, I must go willingly wherever I'm sent. Acting on this isn't a frustration; it is a peace. This is how "...the meek shall inherit the earth; and shall delight themselves in the abundance of peace." Psalm 37:11
Two areas still give me the most trouble: allowing that statio time when God whispers I'm between assignments and accepting trips to places I don't want to visit. Also, maybe accepting driving practices that aren't good for me, and believing the "agency" is really keeping my best interests in mind, especially in this era when loving the profit exceeds loving the car.
That's where the analogy has to end.
God is definitely a collector who loves every model in his fleet!
A Time for Every Purpose
For a series of days, God used driving analogies to teach me more in this faith series I'd been studying. Here is the first entry in that series. More significantly, it seemed to be "testing the waters" for a larger ministry shift He'd be sending my way in the following year. This way of "seeing" more than was there--it was a first brush with something that would prove a hallmark feature of my walk with God in the days to come.
Sept. 10
I was sitting at a stoplight the other day, waiting to turn left. The straight lane in my direction was green, but the left turn lane was red. No traffic was anywhere to be seen; but I sat at a red light, waiting. The thought occurred to me that once upon a time, there were no special left turn lights. You turned when it was reasonably safe. But over time, people's definition of "reasonably safe" stretched a bit, accidents happened, and the left turn light came into being. Now, I'm not the risky type, so I appreciate that light even though it means I sometimes sit ridiculously waiting at an empty intersection. This "law of the light" struck me as a great allegory of spiritual faith and law parallels. It struck me that the person who puts everyone else at risk recklessly is the whole reason the light law had to be established. That one's self-absorption demands a law be put in place to make it possible for all drivers to move smoothly around each other. We'd need only minimal traffic laws if each driver's first thought were, "How can I keep everyone else safe as I get where I'm going." The language Christ introduced toward embracing the law of love makes perfect sense in these terms.
If all traffic laws disappeared, we'd all have the "freedom" to drive like maniacs, but not for very long. We'd soon be killing each other--and ourselves. Such is the meaning of the verse, "Do we then make void the law through faith? Certainly not! We establish the law." Romans 3:31 As Oswald Chambers says, "All I do ought to be founded in perfect oneness with Him, not out of a self-willed determination to be godly." In these same analogous terms, why do I obey traffic laws? Do I obey them out of pride that I've never had a moving violation ticket yet and don't intend to get one? Is it because safe driving gives me better insurance rates? Do I presume that my own safe driving puts me in a position that justifies criticism of less careful drivers? So much to consider on a larger scale from the prompts of this analogy!
As I look back on these questions, I expect God is still working the hardest on that last one--that one regarding criticism of others. I know it is a plague on the society I inhabit, but that is still no excuse for not allowing God to wake me up and take me away to a different place. Interesting that just yesterday, my reading of Henry Scougal's The Life of God in the Soul of Man had me processing this:
Sept. 10
I was sitting at a stoplight the other day, waiting to turn left. The straight lane in my direction was green, but the left turn lane was red. No traffic was anywhere to be seen; but I sat at a red light, waiting. The thought occurred to me that once upon a time, there were no special left turn lights. You turned when it was reasonably safe. But over time, people's definition of "reasonably safe" stretched a bit, accidents happened, and the left turn light came into being. Now, I'm not the risky type, so I appreciate that light even though it means I sometimes sit ridiculously waiting at an empty intersection. This "law of the light" struck me as a great allegory of spiritual faith and law parallels. It struck me that the person who puts everyone else at risk recklessly is the whole reason the light law had to be established. That one's self-absorption demands a law be put in place to make it possible for all drivers to move smoothly around each other. We'd need only minimal traffic laws if each driver's first thought were, "How can I keep everyone else safe as I get where I'm going." The language Christ introduced toward embracing the law of love makes perfect sense in these terms.
If all traffic laws disappeared, we'd all have the "freedom" to drive like maniacs, but not for very long. We'd soon be killing each other--and ourselves. Such is the meaning of the verse, "Do we then make void the law through faith? Certainly not! We establish the law." Romans 3:31 As Oswald Chambers says, "All I do ought to be founded in perfect oneness with Him, not out of a self-willed determination to be godly." In these same analogous terms, why do I obey traffic laws? Do I obey them out of pride that I've never had a moving violation ticket yet and don't intend to get one? Is it because safe driving gives me better insurance rates? Do I presume that my own safe driving puts me in a position that justifies criticism of less careful drivers? So much to consider on a larger scale from the prompts of this analogy!
As I look back on these questions, I expect God is still working the hardest on that last one--that one regarding criticism of others. I know it is a plague on the society I inhabit, but that is still no excuse for not allowing God to wake me up and take me away to a different place. Interesting that just yesterday, my reading of Henry Scougal's The Life of God in the Soul of Man had me processing this:
Again, this grace [humility] is accompanied with a great deal of happiness and tranquility. The proud and arrogant person is a trouble to all that converse with him, but most of all unto himself: every thing is enough to vex him; but scarce anything sufficient to content and please him. He is ready to quarrel with anything that falls out; as if he himself were such a considerable person, that God Almighty should do every thing to gratify him, and all the creatures of heaven and earth should wait upon him, and obey his will...But the humble person hath the advantage when he is despised, that none can think more meanly of him than he doth of himself; and therefore he is not troubled at the matter, but can easily bear those reproaches which wound the other to the soul...True and genuine humility begetteth both a veneration and love among all wise and discerning persons, while pride defeateth its own design, and deprives a man of that honor it makes him pretend to.Such strong words! Funny that just yesterday, I heard someone make a joke about women not being able to drive, and immediately my heart took offense. It is true--to make a blanket condemnation of a group, a smug joke based on gender, this is wrong. But it is also true that I should be humble enough to avoid the arrogant clenching in my own offended chest. Some things are better left to a larger champion, one whose presence I will only realize if I take my eyes off myself and put them on Him.
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