Arise!

“You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing. You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy,” - psalm 30:11

Since I am a preacher's wife, rarely is there a Sunday when I skip church.  Not because I'm so incredibly spiritual, but because...well... where else would I go? ...(and some of my reasons and thoughts are found in the Saturday's post titled "I Went To Church Today")  Over the years I've listened to various preachers, but most of the time it's been my husband. And believe it or not, even though we may have discussed the sermon ahead of time during the week, I often find something new, something fresh that the Holy Spirit might want to cultivate in me after the sermon is heard on Sunday.  Last Sunday was no exception.  Only this time the message - and my consequent "ah-ha!" moment - came from our new youth pastor.  Pastor Dan picked the passage in John 11 where Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead - Not your typical after-Christmas “sermon package” but timely to say the least.

I’ve read that passages a few times and over the years I’ve noticed things in the story.  Things like, Jesus raising someone from the dead (Yeah, that's kind of a big deal.)  Or how Mary and Martha were so very grief-stricken and how Jesus cried too.  I’ve wondered why Jesus seemed in no hurry to get to Lazarus.  But this time as we read that passage in church I noticed something new.  Jesus called Lazarus forth out of the tomb and said, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.” 

I guess it would seem an obvious instruction, considering Lazarus had been dead for 4 days and now he wasn't.  He was alive and grave clothes were not only smelly, they were inappropriate for someone living.  The bandages kept his hands and feet bound and covered his face.  He could not move and he couldn't see, nor could he eat or speak with these bandages.

Covered eyes, bound hands and feet are appropriate for the grave.  Tombs are remarkably silent and the dead require no nourishment. And that’s where the connection was made.  The grave…the clothes…the feast-less silence.  In a moment of honest, personal disclosure, I had to admit this muted soul of mine felt dead and was feasting no longer on Christ.  I had grown accustom to the "grave".  Sipping on Christ's life as if it was a limited resource.  Loss, disappointment, confusion, and a journey of surrender had led to a personal grave site.  Frankly, for a season that tomb was necessary, I needed it while my little life became entrusted to his, while my soul was learning to set down the boxing gloves, stop running, and fast from lesser loves.   These are the things we will learn for a lifetime.  But the solemn nature of the grave can become too familiar, and we forget how to live. 

This Christmas, as I set the babe in the little manger scene on our piano, God was birthing something new in me.  Its glimmers had been showing up here and there but not quite discernible.  As pastor Dan read the passage, and the phrase resonated inside,”take off the grave clothes and let [her] go.”, something clarified. The sermon muffled while I surrendered to my thoughts.  “Am I still wearing ‘spiritual grave clothes’”?  I wondered.  “Have I received God’s gift of life but somehow the bandages have remained?”

What good is the gift of HIS life if it remains clothed in the tomb?  The words of Jesus echoed in my thoughts, bouncing off the stone walls of my heart, traveling deep within - to the dead places. Like an alarm they sounded, “Wake up! Come forth!” I could almost hear God audibly speaking, “Stop living among the dead. Arise!  Let the bandages fall.  The days of mourning are being set aside.  Step into my glorious promise – my light-life – and live!”

The exhortation fell like a spring rain, washing away the muddy winter. And in that moment, within the silent forgotten places of me, my soul was shedding grave clothes.  The weight of sorrow was falling off.  Hands that had forgotten how to reach were reaching again, daring to ask God for his good pleasure and favor.  Feet that had long planted themselves within the dirge, danced …just a bit.  And eyes that were accustom to tones of grey saw the faint whisper of color off in the distance.

 So I am returning to songs of joy for worship (sometimes).  When asked how it's going, I am lifting my head, ready to share the promise rather that the pain.  There was a season to share the pain, and sometimes that story is still important, but grief is not an unending pit.  It has a bottom.  Christ is there and He shares the grave with us for a moment.  Then He calls us forth to new life, new stories, where our sorrow is not forgotten - just redeemed.

It would be dishonest to say, just like that, my soul awakened and came fully alive - that there are no signs of grave clothes anywhere.  That simply is not true.  We are all in process, moving from death to life, and “Saturday” takes time...but perhaps this story rings true and you find yourself in the dirge,  stuck, weighed down with the clothing of the tomb and a new you, the alive-in-Christ-you, is being invited to come forth, take off the grave clothes,... and live.  

Stoking the Fire

"The fire on the altar must be kept burning; it must not go out. Every morning the priest is to add firewood and arrange the burnt offering on the fire and burn the fat of the fellowship offerings on it. The fire must be kept burning on the altar continuously; it must not go out."    Leviticus 6: 12-13

A friend of mine shared this passage through something she recently wrote.  It’s not really about Christmas at first glance.  It’s about the Temple rituals God established early on with his people.   The rituals were rather specific and unless one takes a close contextual look, they can seem pretty random as well.  None the less, they were for His people – a people waiting on God.  A wandering people who were hungry and thirsty (Ps 107).

I guess that’s where the connection comes.  In the waiting. In the preparation and in the hunger and thirst…in the advent.

I don’t know about you but I find myself a little burnt out and soul-thirsty in the flurry of activity this time of year.  By the time I get up in the morning and walk down the hall to the kitchen for a cup of tea, I have a “to-do” list a mile long running through my head!  It’s hard to pause even for a moment, and sometimes I'm tired before the day begins.

But this passage in Leviticus stops me up short.  This specific instruction was for the priest.   Every morning add firewood... arrange the offering on the fire….keep the fire lit...don't let the fire go out.  The fire had to stay lit.  which meant stoking it - arranging the wood.  The temple rituals were intended to offer God’s people a picture of God’s ongoing redemptive work and point them in the direction of Christ.  In this particular instance it is the fellowship- or PEACE - offering that is being burnt.

The funny thing about rituals or traditions is that when we encounter them they seem to be able to cut through the noise of daily activity and redirect our thoughts, which will often redirect our heart.  While my pace might make it difficult to pause, the ritual (or routine) of pausing is necessary.  In it, Christ, the great high priest, can come and stoke his inward fire in me.  Things that have fallen out of order can be rearranged and set right internally.  I guess it's just easier to keep the main thing the main thing when I pause and silence myself before God; which makes a person more ready for the flurry...more able to encounter it and respond well.  

And there again, my mind wanders.  This time to the parable of the ten virgins and I recall the one whose oil ran out.  She hurried off to refuel but it was too late.   And I wonder, am I that girl?  Do I join the group and move along with the crowd, having little regard of the needed fuel for the journey?  Or Do I return to the place of quiet sacrifice, lay down what seems most dear in the moment - albeit time, finances, relationships, desires - and become present with Christ, allowing him to reorder my inward world through the fellowship of His presence in the word.

 Lord, I want to live in such a way to encounter the living Christ?  Oh help me stop and be still before you.  Quicken my mind to even think of it! And by your grace, give me the decisive strength to do it.  Let me find you in the pause and encounter your peace.

Christmas Chaos

"But make sure that you don’t get so absorbed and exhausted in taking care of all your day-by-day obligations that you lose track of the time and doze off, oblivious to God. The night is about over, dawn is about to break. Be up and awake to what God is doing! God is putting the finishing touches on the salvation work he began when we first believed..." Romans 13:11

“Why do we strive for perfection when we could be watching for the hiddenness of Heaven?” That was part of a longer thought my daughter shared with me a few nights ago.  While she did not intend for it to relate to Advent, it sure did for me.

It all started 22 years ago.  It was my first Christmas season as a married woman.   Among the seasonal activities were iced sugar cookies, beautiful wrapping paper, fancy bows made of satin, and of course a Christmas picture; which included our dog because we wanted the portoral of a joyful family and we did not yet have children to exploit.  So there we sat with our cocker spaniel, in front of our whimsically decorated tree – Christmas 1992.

The Iced sugar cookies morphed over the years, but none the less, making a plate of Christmas sweetness to share with a few of our friends had become a “tradition”.   The box of Christmas wrap and bows in our attic still betray my addiction to pretty things.  And for 19 years I kept up the Christmas card tradition.  A midst screaming fits, baby spit-up, knocks on the head, a frustrated husband, and the occasional fake smile; because dog-on-it!...We were going to get that picture - placed creatively on a handmade card - and tell the world Merry-stinking-Christmas if it killed us!

I also began a collection of angel ornaments the first year my husband and I were married, and there's been more than one nativity set displayed throughout the house as well.  But a few years ago I noticed they were getting lost in the chaos and seemed almost mocked against the back-drop of such seasonal flurry.  It’s sad really, what started with hopes to do Christmas "just right" turned into something so very wrong.   That's why three years ago I stopped it all.

We needed to bring CHRISTmas into focus.   It was a clumsy process and frankly, not very strategic, but maybe God had a strategy.  As I look back, I think the last few years have turned into a fast from the holiday so we could encounter the Advent... In December of 2012,  I don’t think I baked a single cookie; and (perish the thought!) I bought BAGGED bows too!  Since sending cards became such a distraction, they haven't been sent since 2011.  I was worried that friends would be offended or that we would stop receiving their cards, but those concerns rising up were a purging of what had become polluted in my focus for the season.   So as fears came up I tried (sometimes not very successfully) to confess them to Christ and surrender the outcome to Him. 

Today, here I sit with a tree in the living room – no ornaments yet, just lights.  The boxes are still in the attic and the house is less than perfect.  There’s a role of Pillsbury cookie dough in my refrigerator, and well, you get the point.  But there’s also a little more room to watch, and be hopeful; to anticipate, remember, and breathe!  - "Advent".

Why DO we strive for perfection during this season?  Perhaps it is because we long for something better.  Maybe in it, we're reaching for something more than our current reality holds, and the silver and gold that dress the season are the shadows of God's abundance meant for His children.  Our perfection is but a shadow of what is most real.   Heaven hides beyond the extraordinary.  His Majesty – the Christ- arrived through remarkably imperfect circumstances.  His flesh formed in the womb of an unwed woman, his crib was a trough set in a bed of dung-straw.  Amidst the less-than-lovely, "More" came.   HOPE in the flesh drew its first breath not among the gilded but near the messy and broken.

This year, I’m not sure what I’m going to do as far as traditions go.  I might break the fast and consider “preparing the way for the Lord” In whatever comes up, I want to be "alert and awake to what God is doing."  Maybe as I hang the garland that holds the cards I will give thought to preparing for the Christ-child.  Maybe if goodies get baked I will ponder the sweetness of hope brought forth in a babe. Maybe as I wrap the gifts, I will consider the treasure of Christ, held within each of us.   And tonight as my husband lights the tree, I will try to remember God's Kingdom, birthed in the flesh, now coming through us– His children of light.    -  Whatever it is, I want to let go of perfection and keep a good watch for the hiddenness of Heaven.

Full

It’s been a while since I’ve posted on this blog page.  Advent seemed a good time to begin again.  One of the reasons I took a break was because of my own cynicism.  After all, this blog is called “Saturdays” and if you are familiar with it at all, you know that “Saturdays” is a reference to the day of “wait” that occurred between Christ’s Crucifixion and Sunday’s resurrection and how that wait-day plays out symbolically in our own lives from time to time.  I guess part of me just became tired of the wait that “Saturday” was bringing.  Now, here we are at the beginning of Advent – another wait.  Wait, upon wait, upon wait!  As if life itself is just one long Saturday straining toward…something.   But what?

For the United States, Advent begins just after Thanksgiving where we share a tradition of feasting with our friends and family, giving thanks for God’s provision and blessings over the past year.  Guests come hungry and leave full.  Overly full! I remember hearing my grandmother saying to us, "Be careful not to eat too many treats, it will ruin your appetite."  One year I chose not to heed her advice and I stuffed myself on all the little things long before the turkey was ever served.  I had forgotten all about the dinner and my belly was so full I no longer had the appetite to feast!  Even dessert sounded less appealing by the end of the day.  So there I sat at the table, half-heartedly sharing a meal, the real meal, with the rest.  So why do I bring this up?  Because when we are hungry we will eat just about anything.  When we are full we won’t.  Studies have shown that a starving person will even choose to eat something toxic in order to satisfy themselves.  Hunger drives us.

I wonder if hunger drove those who waited so long ago for the Messiah.  I wonder how many stuffed themselves on oppressive laws (beyond what God had established), sensationalism, Self-aggrandizement - pride, and distractions.  Their souls were filled with “toxins” and they no longer had an appetite for a living Christ.  God in a diaper made little sense to them because their bellies had become full on lesser loves as they forgot what they were waiting for.    But for those who waited for the feast, who longed and hungered for the promise – they found Him.  Christ showed up and satisfied their hunger with good things.  He brought the real meal. (Luke 1:53)   

In my recent soul-hunger I forgot how to feast, and instead nibbled away at lesser loves, toxic substitutes and found myself suspiciously full, unsatisfied and cynical. Like I did as a child at Thanksgiving, I became distracted on my way to the table losing sight of the real meal - Christ coming near and sharing his presence.

Maybe that's why a seemingly smallish, diaper-wearing God was beginning to bug me too.  Maybe in the wait, my appetite changed and did not match what he had to offer.   Maybe I was having a hard time letting God be God and accepting the fact that I am not.   In any case,  as I reorient, I am noticing how “empty” I am and  I want to welcome this impoverished heart and introduce her to Christ again…and I see HOPE.  This really is a long Saturday straining toward something.  It is straining toward Emmanuel – God with us; He is worth the wait!  Only in His presence can we taste and see that he is indeed good and we become… full.

So as we enter this season of Advent what are you hungering for and how are you feeding yourself?

“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, 

for they will be filled.  - Matt 5:6

Love Works!

This morning a friend of mine posted this picture on Facebook.  It got me thinking.  Parenting seems to go better when I am postured to love and enjoy my children, and while I may know that to be true, sometimes I don’t parent like that.  Sometimes I’m just frustrated and want my kids to do what I want, so I try subtly or overtly manipulating their behavior.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  While I am NO parenting expert, I have sought to build good, Christ-like character into my children.  However, the older they get, the more their will interacts with mine and we collide.  In the end, it’s really God’s job to build Christ-like character in His children, we get to partner with Him in the process through cooperation, obedience and abiding in Him…loving Him, enjoying Him.

When I enjoy my children I parent from a different place...one of hopeful love, instead of condemnation.  Things naturally go better and I can trust the process because I know God is the ultimate author of their story and He holds all the details – even the messy ones.  Good thing too, because I have a few messy places in my own story!

So what am I getting at? .... God likes His kids, messy and all!  I like the exhortation of the words on that picture, not because I don’t think behavior is important, but because joy and love root good behavior and establish our character.  The ‘being loved’ grounds the ‘doing love’.  At least that’s what scripture says (Eph 3:14-21).  

I wonder if I assume that God 'parents' me they way I sometimes parent my children - more concerned about getting me to do what He wants, and less concerned about the two of us enjoying a relationship together (Zeph 3:17).  Do I, do we, make the assumption that God is up there in the heavens subtly or overtly manipulating circumstances to manage our behavior? It would then make sense why we scramble about looking for ways to do what we think God wants us to do; hiding when we’ve failed, standing proud as the Pharisee when we get it right.   My kids copy what I do because it has been imprinted upon them through loving relationship, and I suppose it’s the same with God.  He enjoys us and loves us, and from that place we live and move and have our being in Him?  

Pride and shame are left powerless when the heart is infused with the infinite love of God.  

Love automatically compels a righteous response and action.  We love because He first loved us (1 John 4:19).   It is not ‘soft on sin’ as I’ve often heard it said - that's tolerance..Tolerance is not love. In fact, it's the opposite.  Love finds truth and greets it with a kiss. (Ps. 85-10-13)  Love grieves deeply the course of sin.  Love is what makes remorse weep, crying out for redemption, and banking on forgiveness.  

After raising a few others from death, love held Christ on a cross unto death.  And it is the power of God’s love that pierced the tomb with eternal life; making it available to you and me.  So when loving is difficult, we return to the source – the place where God’s love was poured out.  We return, remember and receive.  We are dependent upon it.  It is only from that place of receiving His love that we can even begin to think of loving others…and loving other’s is exactly what God would want us to do!...I guess we’ve come full circle.

So I’m going to try a little experiment.  Rather than feeling obligated or forced to “do the right thing”, I am going realize I won’t get it all right – there’s no possible way!  And instead, I’ll begin by practicing God’s presence, mess and all, knowing He ultimately pens the story.  I’m going to try with each new opportunity, to return my thoughts to Christ’s love, remember His life set aside for mine and that it was for the JOY set before Him that He did so! (Hebrews 12:2), and as best I can, with open dependent hands, receive the resource of grace He offers that I may do the same for others…I am going to try meditating on His love and genuine delight, and see if it will lead to doing what He wants me to do.  

So what do you think?  Do you dare trust love to be so powerful...so transforming? 

Interested in joining me to find out??  

Safe-Keeping

“You Yourself have recorded my wanderings. Put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your records?” – Psalm 56:8

The other day I was looking for something at my parent’s house.  I haven’t lived with them for long time, so occasionally my search requires some snooping .  While I was looking, I came across a box of my dad’s.  It was just the sort of place that may hide what I had been looking for. 

What I found instead was a much better treasure.  The contents of the box held no monetary value whatsoever; but still my heart burst as I caught a glimpse.  They were things only a father – now grandfather- would hold dear.  It contained a picture of his parents walking along a city street, holding hands and in love.  There was a scrap of paper with words penned by my grandfather, making record of his personal, living encounter with Christ. My dad had saved my very first business card.  There was a small case marked “tooth”.  Things from my brother were in there, my daughter’s picture and a baseball picture of my son were there as well, along with some of the little trinkets he'd been given over the years.  All things held special by a father …or a son…or a grandfather.

Seeing that little box and what it held inside surprised me.  The sudden realization of quiet, vigilant love spanning decades will do that.  While I was racing through my teens, he was collecting the moments.  While I was consumed in raising toddlers, he was storing the snapshots, when his own parents passed he wasn't fighting for investments, he was preserving their story.  Holding each one close, tucked away safe from decay or forgotten-ness.

My dad and I many years ago
walking in the snow with my kiddos 

It hit me as I walked away from such a tiny archive that God’s love is similar.  He records our wanderings and puts our tears in his bottle (ps 56).  Every little bit recorded and preserved for His safe keeping.  Why?  Because he vigilantly loves us.  While we are racing through life, God is collecting our moments, keeping them ready for the day when we are willing to pause and remember with Him.  While we are consumed with the stress life brings, God is preserving snapshots, holding each anxious thought present.  While we may be distracted, investing in this world, God is recording our story, caring most about the words being penned upon our heart. What really matters are the living encounters that cannot be measured by a 401-k or the praises of man.  Sometimes we go looking for one thing and find something far greater.

God holds your story, and He holds mine.  The years are not wasted or lost on Him.   When I saw what my earthly father treasured, I gushed silently, “He’s held all these things dear!  All these seemingly insignificant things have been treasures to him.  For years!”  I have always known my dad loves me, but this time it was different.  I had taken a glimpse of his heart and better understood the depth of His love.  Rest assured God has a box like that, and it holds similar things – “worthless things” of infinite value to Him. 

I Went to Church Today

I'm married to a pastor and I've attended church regularly for many years,  but sadly, I have to confess that I've been missing it lately.  By missing I mean not being there - all good reasons mind you, in fact, mostly ministry reasons! But none-the-less, I've not been to the worship service for a few weeks.  Well, today I made it... and do you know what I discovered?  I've missed it...and this time I mean the kind of "miss" that happens when you realize you've been a little homesick and didn't even know it? I've seen many friends that attend church with me over the past few weeks. I've visited with them and even had lunch with a few, but I haven't worshiped with them...which is the whole point of coming together for church.  As I participated in the worship time today, there arose in me a deep conviction about the value of going to church, which in turn cause me to wonder why it is sometimes not at the top of our priority list. 

It seems that going to church is becoming more counter-cultural.  There are many reasons and frankly, I have felt and understand some of them.  Often we’re just too busy outside of church to add one more thing to our plate.  I remember the summer we decided to enroll our kids in a summer swim team.  As we arrive at our first all-day swim meet, I was shocked to find half our church members there, spread out under the easy-up, ice chests stocked, grills going.  They were well prepared for the next eight hours of hanging out.  A crazy time commitment! And all for that moment to watch their ten-year-old do the butterfly in 1.3 minutes.  I remember looking at my husband and saying, "Well I think I now know why church attendance is a little low over the summer."  And frankly, who can blame people?  Attending a sporting event allows us to experience being part of something exciting, something bigger than us, while remaining a spectator.  Church doesn't work that way...  

 ...Sometimes we become disenchanted with church-life and the broken, messy lives that come with it (assuming we aren't one of them, of course - haha!), and rather than hopping into the game, we high-tail it outta there to find something a little less painful or disappointing.  someplace that allows us to wave the banner safely from the spectators bench.  Sadly, and all to often, leadership takes the heat as this happens.  The truth is, all the leaders really want is for the member's of their church body to "live at peace with each other so far as it depends on them" (Rom 12:18)...And when that feels like its too much, to "consider it pure joy as we encounter various trials", knowing that through them God does his redeeming, maturing work in us.

Occasionally we just get so busy serving in the church we forget to show up with our heart and worship.  We become little "Martha's".  We are busy, busy, busy!  And like Martha, we can become a little frustrated with those who don't seem to be working with us.  We forget that all Christ really wants is for us to come, sit at his feet and be present with Him for a moment.  Strength and grace for the work is found at his feet and dispensed as we pause.

There is another fad that seems to be a reaction to the previous three experiences.  Regularly worshiping with the body of Christ may seem too inconvenient, to difficult, to needy, and it is all to easy to pick and choose how we do it.  So we take Jesus,  the tidy one, that is already off the cross, bathed clean of his crucified mess, and sitting neatly by the Father's side in Heaven.  We set aside his call love and live together within a Holy body that sometimes calls us to suffer.  We seek to be spiritual while remaining unattached to the larger community of Christians and don't go to church at all.  

Do I need to attend church to have a relationship with God? Well...technically maybe one could say, No.  But I think it would be weird if my kids only wanted to hang out with their dad and pay no attention to their siblings.  Does going to church take a portion of our time?  Yep, but don’t we freely give a portion of our time to anything we find valuable?  Do we need to be convinced to spend time with our spouse?  Or persuaded to show up to our kid’s ball game?  Nobody was twisting my arm to buy a movie ticket the other night and spend two hours watching it.  I don’t hesitate to show up to a party and I always expect to wait in the Dr.’s office.  So what’s the big deal about Sunday morning?   

Do people offend us on occasion at church? Yep!  That’s part of the deal… And sometimes we offend them. The apostle Paul wrote to the churches about this, encouraging their “one-another-ness” and I suppose He did that because they (like us) needed the reminder. 

So today I made it to church. Here's what else I discovered! As we sang I realized that when we gather together to say, “Jesus is Lord”, we actually remember He is.  

"He is good, …When there's nothing good in me
He is love, ….On display for all to see
He is light,…When the darkness closes in
He is hope, …in spite of all my sin

He is peace, …When my fear is crippling
He is true,…Even in my wandering
He is joy, …and the reason that I sing
He is life,… in Him death (even soul wearied blithe) has lost its sting" (by Hillsong)

We go to church to remember …

…and we go to church to help others remember…That's what the ISraelites did as they returned to their mountain of Worship as God's people.

...what is truer, and more real than any ballgame, swim-meet, movie, or church duty; and what is bigger than any offence we could hold toward someone else, is that God is God and we are His.  And together we can draw near to the great priest that resides over the house of God. When we do we just may find our stubborn resistance giving way to free surrender.  Joy just might be restored and life just might be renewed!

 So… “Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.  Oh! May we consider how we can spur one another on toward love and

good deeds,  not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” – Hebrews 10:24-25

I'm so glad I went to church today!

A Kingdom of the Heart -

"Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness and all these things will be added as well." - Matt 6:33

“Who knows the power of one life given over completely to the purposes of God….Yours may be that life.”

Oswald Chambers penned these words in His classic devotional, My Utmost for His Highest.  It has echoed in the mansions of my heart since the day I read them.

Richard Foster, in Streams of Living Water says holiness is "The ability to do what needs to be done when it needs to be done…the divinely transformed heart, by its very nature, will produce right action …Holiness is world-affirming.  The holy life is found smack in the middle of everyday-life.  We discover it by being freely and joyfully in the world without ever being of the world." 

 What happens to our lives when we get caught up in the action of God?

Over the past few years I've gone to a specific market to shop for groceries.  It's found smack in the middle of a very impoverished, "everyday-life" neighborhood.  I didn't decide to shop there out of charity (I wish I could say I did); I decided to out of need.  I had become quite hardened around the social and economic needs of our community and, along with that, I found myself smitten with the finer things which made me more and more discontent.  So I went there for God to do a work in me. 

While submerging myself in poverty seemed like a good practice a the time, second thoughts came quickly (Don't they always when change is on the horizon?) stepping up to the market, I was smothered by it's impoverished realities - the smell, the crowd, the strung-out person high on who knows what.  I was bothered that waiting in line took so long because a woman was paying via government aid-food stamps. One time while I shopped, a man, likely with a form of paranoid schizophrenia, followed me unexpectedly.  He was worried he might come down with the flu so he talked incessantly about it for 4 rows!  

I was feeling invaded from every angle. "Don’t these people understand that I have things to do? - Important things! I don't belong here”, my smallish heart bemoaned.  Assuming whatever encapsulated itself in the world of Michelle was somehow more valuable than what was held in theirs.  Yep…wish I could say I was more holy than that, but I wasn’t.  Pitiful really, I had no idea the offensive smell was partly due to the stench of my own arrogance and self-obsession.  The fact is, I did belong there.  THERE it’s where God was working on me.

One day, as I made my way along the broken sidewalk to the store entrance, I was again taking in this mixed up marketplace when God nudged me, "Michelle you are no different.  You too are impoverished. These people are beautiful.  They are lovely. And yes, they are broken.  The system in motion has all but destroyed them, and the system of self-made, personal-kingdom building that has been set in motion inside you is going to destroy you unless you do something about it."   It was the kind of remark a passionate, loving father would give to his beloved child.  I knew this was an invitation to encounter His love in a new way.

While I crossed the tracks from one side of town to the next, I wondered how Jesus felt when He crossed the tracks from Heaven to earth to inaugurate His Kingdom,... and I was finding him afresh on the other side of town, where His kingdom was establishing itself in me.   I didn't realize it at first, but these everyday-life encounters were incarnational, Jesus-in-the-flesh moments, and God was using them to change me.   

The paranoid man?  He's there almost every time, and how lonely it must be for him. I am lonely too when fear takes over.  I grapple for answers row-by-row just like him, only it’s from the silent space of a soft warm bed.  I wonder, where does this man sleep?  Who takes care of him when the sun goes down?  The woman with food stamps?  Well, they are many and while I may have food in my pantry, I am a beggar at the feet of Jesus all the same and only the aid of His grace will nourish me.

I still shop at that market.  I still hate the smell and sometimes the wait at the register bugs me too, but I more readily see Jesus' face in others and God fills me with deeper compassion because I not only see Jesus, I see myself - needy and holy.  We are indeed “glorious ruins”, every one of us.  And Jesus mingles with us in the mire, making us pure.   No matter our story, we each hold a sacred space meant only for the light of Christ.  What will it take to ignite it?  For me it takes bumping up against my own impoverished self and letting God into the mess.  Somewhere in the visit God ignites His love-light and it has no other choice but to shine.  

I suppose as the church, or as Dallas Willard has called them, “Societies of Jesus”, becomes more present to a needy world, we will have better societies altogether - communities that are ignited and lit up with His love. 

I thought when I began this practice I would have to let go of beautiful things, but they were merely fanciful distractions that wooed me away from God’s heart.  Real beauty showed up behind the grime and I learned that His good and beautiful kingdom-system brings good and beautiful life when God’s love is encountered and lived out through His children.

It’s lived out in everyday spaces.  Who knows the power of one life given over to God?  What happens to our lives when we get caught up in the action of God?  ….Well, I am now asking myself, "What would a daughter of the Good-king God do - right here in the middle of everyday life." 

Sometimes that means helping a weary mom to the car with her groceries.  Sometimes it means smiling when two sets of eyes meet at the cash register. Sometimes it means stopping my cart long enough to talk to the paranoid man and bless him with God's good will.  Sometimes it means bigger things that require significant risk and sacrifice!

Why would any of us do such things?  Because it's what a son or daughter of the King would do.   It shimmers with God's love and becomes contagious. 

…It is “His Kingdom come, His will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven” – Matthew 6:10

A Reluctant Worshipper

The other day I stopped to do something I assumed I had been doing for years.  The idea came from a school assignment in which we were asked to offer up a prayer to God.  In the assignment we were encouraged to only speak of our love for God, to avoid bringing up any requests or concerns…just love and praise (Remember, this was just an experiment, Phil. 4 is clear about bringing our requests to God.)  Since this was an experiment, I thought, surely it will be an easy assignment.  

 I was surprised to find it difficult to express any love for God that didn’t feel contrived.  I tried talking to Him from several points of view, but no luck.  It was easy to come with my requests or frustrations, and of course my heart was all in it!  But that was NOT the assignment.  SO...Setting those things aside, while I could profess a contrived love for Him, my heart could not engage it.  Telling God sincerely that I loved Him was just plain hard.   But why? This is a God I KNEW to be so incredibly loving? One thing became glaringly obvious.  While we can use will power to DO something, it’s impossible to will ourselves to FEEL something, and I knew God was reading right through me; which made the whole thing seem all the more insincere.   

After giving the matter some thought, I had to admit that part of me had become unfamiliar with God’s love and I didn’t trust it.  I have been busy doing so many things, that I hadn’t made much time for God and I fell out of a routine of meditating on His love.  When we fall out of a routine of meditating on the love of God we forget that He is good.  As the old hymn says, “Prone to wander, Lord I feel it!  Prone the leave the God I love.”  

So as I tried to confess love for God, another part of me was at the ready, cancelling  out the confession with a quick rebuttal.  It was a real Jekyll and Hyde experience which went something like this:

“The train of your robe, Lord, fills the temple with glory.” I professed out of one side of my mouth.

Then from the other side came, “Really? I’ve grown weary of waiting on you, Lord.  If you are really GOD, then can you not make SOMETHING go right? I’m tired of empty promises.”  

And back and forth it would go.  Clearly I needed a reminder of what His love actually looked like, so I went to scripture (Ps 36:5-9).

Living Translation : “Your steadfast love, O Lord, is as great as all the heavens. Your faithfulness reaches beyond the clouds. Your justice is as solid as God’s mountains. Your decisions are as full of wisdom as the oceans are with water. You are concerned for men and animals alike. How precious is your constant love, O God! All humanity takes refuge in the shadow of your wings. You feed them with blessings from your own table and let them drink from your rivers of delight.  For you are the Fountain of life; our light is from your light.”

The Message:

God’s love is meteoric,
    his loyalty astronomic,
His purpose titanic,
    his verdicts oceanic.
Yet in his largeness
    nothing gets lost;
Not a man, not a mouse,
    slips through the cracks.

^7-9 How exquisite your love, O God!
    How eager we are to run under your wings,
To eat our fill at the banquet you spread
    as you fill our tankards with Eden spring water.
You’re a fountain of cascading light,
    and you open our eyes to light.

As surprised as I was to find it difficult to express love to God in the beginning, I was equally, if not more surprised to find how the Living Word (the Bible) could reveal to this weary child the Living Word (His presence).  As I John says, We love because He first loved us. God’s Spirit used The Word to unlock my heart, which had become closed off and shut tight to His love.  Rather than cynical Jekyll and Hyde banter, I found myself in a much more life-giving conversation.  One that could genuinely express LOVE.

“’In His largeness nothing gets lost.’ – Nothing God? Are you sure?  Oh Hallelujah! Nothing is lost!  Not these years of ministry, not my son as he’s away at school, Not …(so many things!)  Nothing slips through the cracks -  Hallelujah you are attentive to it all!

Your wings God?  Are they indeed so big that we run under them like children playing freely on your beautiful playground? 

On and on it went for a while as I decompressed all that had been stored up.  He, as the fountain of cascading light, ushered me out of the dark and began to open my eyes to light.

It was a good assignment.  One I think I might just go back to once-in-a-while.

Faith-Borrowing

Yesterday I was on a walk and noticed a park with newly planted trees; each with their own set of stakes to keep them growing straight until they are rooted enough on their own to weather wind and rain...It reminded of me of a time several years ago when one of our kids encountered their own type of storm and reached a point where their circumstances collided with their faith.  Up until then, everything about God seemed to coincide with their experiences.  And really, their circumstances had not yet been out of their control; which meant, “I make a good choice and good comes of it.  I make a bad choice and bad comes of it.”  This was one of those seasons where making a seemingly good choice brought unexpected pain and disappointment and their faith needed stakes.

I remember walking with my child on the beach as they poured out their heart with little reserve or consolation.  It takes so few words for a parent to discern the meaning behind their child’s eyes, or understand the phrase that silently follows their sigh. 

 
At the end of our walk I said, “I know this is painful.  And I also know there is nothing I can do to fix it.  I know suggesting it will all work out for the good is useless right now - even though it’s true. But your dad and I have lived many more years than you and it has given us the chance to see God work.  We have more stories to look back upon and recall His faithfulness, even when God did not seem faithful at the time.  You are just beginning that journey.  Don't spend your energies conjuring up faith for stories that have yet to be told.   Rest in ours while God builds them in you.  I guess what I'm trying to say is that I want to loan you my faith. Where you have none right now, borrow mine.  You can use as much as you want and claim it as your own until you have what you need.  It’s OK if you don’t or can’t believe God right now. I will believe on your behalf.  I will hold your story present before God, believing for you.  Borrow my stories until you have your own.  Borrow my faith until you find yours.”

Up until that night with my child I had not considered lending my faith to someone.  This was one of those moments when God showed up and dispensed His wisdom when I had none.  Since then, however, I've given the idea considerable thought.  Can someone actually borrow another’s faith?  Or was it just a lapse in judgment that caused me to say those words to my child? 

I recall a more personal experience when I struggled deeply over  something.  A friend came by and simply shared how she too had a similar struggle and it would pass -The days would get better.  Oh how I hung on those words. I didn't have the capacity to see beyond the immediate, but she could.

Faith Borrowing….

Here’s what Roman’s 8 has to say…”Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along. If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our [ expectant,wearied and waiting] condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good."

In the way I offered my child my faith back then, and the way I borrowed my friends, God offers to His children something similar.   We can go limp and rest in His stories.  We can sigh and trust that the Holy Spirit will translate our breath into meaningful words before the Father.   We can borrow His stories in others until we have our own.   After all isn't that why we are surrounded by "such a great cloud of witnesses"?  Doesn't it help us "press on towards the goal" ?  Heb 12:1

So I am borrowing Mary’s faith as she sat at Jesus’ feet, abandoned to Him.

I am borrowing Esther’s faith as she waited for God to “right” the story and accomplish his purposes.

I am borrowing Peter’s faith while He stood at the fire with the resurrected Christ and reignited what had been snuffed out.

I am borrowing Joshua and Caleb’s faith as they saw giants in the land and believed against all odds that God would fight the battle.

I guess those trees in the park reminded me that sometimes we just need a little...

...Faith-Borrowing.

Weary

So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matt 6:34

I had a lot of ideas about a blog post this week, but as you can tell it is getting out a little later than usual.  Main reason?  Well, life just gets in the way sometimes.  This has been one of those weeks.  When I sit still for even just a moment my heart leaks the silent words, “I’m weary.”  Nothing more seems to come.  Just that. 

I’m weary.  As I write this, there are a thousand things that should be attended to.  You know the feeling... weary. 
So what of it?  Taking a nice long siesta is not on the books.  I suppose part of the problem is that I am carrying too much.  I was only meant to carry today’s load.  Not tomorrow’s or next weeks.  Just today’s.   After all, it has enough trouble of its own – right?

 I am borrowing a boat load of concerns from tomorrow...well actually, from the entire next month!  Of course I’m weary.  The graces needed for those days have not been afforded to me yet.  They will be given at the due time.  My concerns have weighed me down and pull me out of that sweet place of abiding with God.  This worried-gluttoned heart has spoiled like left over manna. Today’s graces are for TODAY’S events. 

What if I take up the work and grace for today like the Israelites took up manna in the wilderness - Careful to take only what is needed?  What if I leave unneeded worries on the ground, to pick up later - trusting God for a fresh supply of grace in the morning?   I suppose that is a much better way to stay close to God and move graciously through each demand as it comes.  So I am going to stretch my legs a bit and learn these unforced rhythms of grace that come from Him. 

One moment, one step, one helping of manna at a time, and this empty cup that sits longing to be filled... will be.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”