Coming Back - This summer's journey of finding God in the storms. Part 1

 I’m writing this while sitting in Starbucks.  Not just any Starbucks, it’s the Starbucks – the one where I’ve gone for years.  I sit in one corner meeting with women talking about life circumstances and how God might be shaping us through them.  My dad often sits less than 20 feet away in the opposite corner having similar conversations with his coffee buddies.  The workers nicknamed their table “the office” as they occupy it every morning for hours.  Stories have been told at that table – stories about the market and economy, a spouse struggling with cancer, a home trying to be sold, and retired dreams still held close in conversation.  Every now and then, I hear their familiar belly laughs making their way to my corner.  There’s just one difference, my dad isn’t sitting there.

Today is the first day I’ve returned since July when my dad was diagnosed with leukemia.  which explains why there hasn't been much on this blog lately...but this won't be a sad post, because my dad is recovering.  It is, however, going to be an honest one.  In fact, a few of them will be.

How does it feel to walk into this sacred space?  Weird.  I forgot the doors open out and tried pushing them 3 or 4 times.  I’m sure I looked a little foolish before remembering how the doors work and how the fan announces every entrance.  At first glance I see the guys.  Do I say Hi?  Or do I just get in line and avoid the cordial hellos that may beg a report -  a report now recitable in my sleep...  Maybe I’ll just get in line.  I don’t really recognize anyone else, which surprises me.  Someone in here has the same name as my dad and I keep resisting the reflex to look over and greet the man with a "daughter's greeting". The barista asked for my name for the first time in years.   But several weeks have passed and things change, I suppose.  

It always feels strange to see how life has moved on while yours (including the ones close to you) has been blown over by a freight train and parts of your life are still laying all over the track.  I’m trying to pick up the pieces and find a focus, but feel so disconnected – so numb.  Is this normal?

Maybe I should feel happier...By all accounts, dad should not be with us today… he’s not out of the woods yet, but he is here.  He is probably wondering if that’s a good thing.  So much to adjust. So much to build back.  So many doctors – so many bills, so many private, life-altering moments that can never be explained.

As I watch the last of his buddies leave for the day, I am still sitting here in my corner, where a bitter sip can be sweetened with a shot of vanilla....where I finished a devotional on Ps 23, and remembered how God blesses us with a  cup that overflows of his love and goodness....where the barista's promise on the back of the cup is to "always make it right" If I don't love this drink.  ....but I know better than I did last June, the promise found in a bitter sip.

So, I have settled back into my corner, drinking my tea. What started out sweet in June and turned bitter by August is changing. Autumn is just days away.

...Maybe tomorrow I’ll see if dad can come.

Valley Storms

To be completely honest, I struggled over how to write this blog post.  It is adapted from a old journal entry and every time I took it out of the “first person experience” for this blog, it lost a good part of its meaning and sounded like rhetoric…so I didn’t.  I don’t write it this way for consolation or sympathy but in hopes of putting voice to what I know is common to us all.

 

“I hope that you have had a blue-sky kind of day, even if it’s snowing.”

My friend sent those words as a greeting recently.  I honestly don’t know if she meant it literally or figuratively …probably both.  Her words struck me and were deeply meaningful.  I live in a part of California where a 90 minute drive east would bring me right into the snowy Sierra Nevada Mountains;  and a drive westerly for about the same amount of time,  would tumble me straight onto the sandy beaches and blue skies of the coast.  BUT I live in the valley.  It’s the in-between place where the clouds collect from the coastal ranges and pass through as they make their way up the mountains to drop their snow.  Winter here often looks drizzly, gray and foggy with the occasional warm day brining a sunny respite. However, when those respites hide themselves, it is not unusual for families to take a Sunday drive and “get above the clouds to find some sun for the day”.  After all, the soul needs it.

I’m finding myself in a soul-season that feels a lot like winter in The Valley.  Circumstances seem to be piling one upon the other like collected clouds between mountain peaks, and struggle falls like rain?  How does one have a blue-sky kind of day when the grey hovers so ostentatiously?  I don’t really want to read another verse about trials building perseverance and perseverance character, and character…blah blah blah.  I want to escape and take my soul on a Sunday drive to find some sun…But where?

I know that Isaiah reminds us to put our down-cast soul into the hopes of God (Ps 42).  And I know that, “He keeps track of all our sorrows, and has collected all our tears in his bottle, recording each one in His book.” (Ps 56:8).  Maybe the light dawns as we go limp for a while and weep, letting the clouds of our soul drop their tears, and perhaps the blue-sky kind of day comes about while we sit in the drizzle of the rain, held by the One who alone keeps track of it all….
 

… Maybe the best thing we can do at times is just sit somewhere in the valley, between the blue-sky and the snow, and let it rain. 

Will trials build perseverance?  Yes, if I stay in the trial and let God do his refining work in me.  That’s how perseverance leads to character; and the sheer amazement of that actually happening builds hope. And hope lifts our eyes above the clouds to see the abundant resources held in heavens courts awaiting our appeal.  (Rom 5)

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,… 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. - Romans 8:26-28

So if you find yourself longing for a blue-sky kind of day even if it's snowing outside, let it rain a bit.  Trust that the Spirit will hold you before God and work out the details, at His ready the clouds will clear, making Hope's harvest sure.

 

Surrendering to the Shears... a New Years Resolution

(I actually wrote this yesterday and thought I'd wait to post it but a conversation this morning has reminded again of some needed "pruning".)

This Morning I was greeted by three thorny, intrusive rose bushes.  They line the walkway to our front door and have grown quite gangly as they’ve been left unattended. So earlier this afternoon I grabbed my pruning shears and set out to do a little pruning.  I was struck by how overgrown they’d become. They hardly looked like roses at all and weren't their beautiful selves for sure!  Some stems had to be clipped in excess of 4 feet! 

Pruning is one of those things I avoid like the plague but once out there I find myself in conversation with God and I wonder why I would ever procrastinate such sweet encounters. Maybe it’s the mess and prickly thorns that I don’t like.  Maybe it’s simply inconvenient and I don’t want to be bothered or interrupted.   Maybe I don’t readily see the value that pruning brings.  Maybe it’s all three.  Well, like it or not, pruning must occur for roses to be ready in the spring; and my out of sight, out of mind approach has produced a rather deformed and diseased set of rose bushes.

 John 15:2, “He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.”

 "Angel Face"

As I mingled with God among the thorns I was mindful of a different pruning – the one that God does in us.  I'm tempted to avoid moments like that because it’s messy or inconvenient and I neither want my daily routine interrupted nor my heart disrupted.  However, when our heart is left unattended the places that need pruning become painfully obvious.  Life becomes about me, I'm easily irritated, sometimes dismissive, and often lack love. Thorny, overgrown branches prick and sting others while my soul becomes deformed and diseased. 

Thankfully the story does not end there.  When we "surrender to the shears" God does the needed work to shape our life into a resemblance of His beauty and presence that is good and kind.  One of my favorite bushes in the garden is call "Angel Face", they're quite fragrant and offer such a sweet aroma in passing.  We are not much different.  When Christ takes form in us we are his fragrance to the world (2 Corinthians 2:15) as it passes by and encounters us.  It happens in us the same way it does with the roses the as they lie pruned and dormant in my garden this winter.  As we let God work on the places in our heart that require his love we will be nourished and made ready to produce bountiful, fragrant blooms when the season comes for the sun to cascade its warmth and shine it light once again.  

So for 2014 I have the resolution to surrender to the shears when opportunity comes...albeit painful and hard, it alone holds the promise of spiritual beauty in due season.

What are the thorny gangly life-branches God may be drawing your attention to this year?

How can you open yourself up to his pruning work?

Spend some time imagining what a beautiful expression of his life in you look like once he has done his necessary pruning?

The Crush

a continuation from previous posts....

"From the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” – Luke 6:45

 When grapes are harvested they go through a process called crushing.  That’s when grapes are picked and crushed, allowing the juice to be collected.  As this season of silence continued on with God, there was introduced within me a “Crushing”. 

Through various circumstances that seemed to pile pain upon pain, God was allowing a weight to press into my soul like a mighty crush.  My heart felt like it was in a vice-grip! It was inescapable and remarkably difficult.  I wanted to run far, far away from this slow, methodical pressing.  As soon as one circumstance would give way, another would roll in without mercy.  Many of the circumstances that offered such renderings involve other people and as such, I cannot disclose many details.  Suffice it to say that there was a significant loss of friendship, reputation, and...well... pride.  Combine that with four years of intense insomnia, the passing of several loved ones, and a marriage  that was feeling the strain of it all (Much of these dynamics were shared experiences with my husband.) and you have for one fierce crushing!  I suppose many of you reading this have experienced something similar at times. 

When grapes are crushed usually parts of the leaves and stem are mixed in.  That means it's messy and not very pretty.  It takes a while to get “pure” juice, and by “pure” I mean the flavors are balanced and allow for some of the other elements to remain.  At first I did not like the juices that began to flow from this crush.  They were sour and full of sediment, but Psalm 51:17 gave me hope.

“My sacrifice, oh God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.”

I had to learn to trust that in this broken place - stems, leaves and all, God was accepting me. It was actually "more pure" to let the sediment flow to the surface.  Something tender and endearing happened as I embraced the sediment.  They were the remnants of something once loved...now shattered. It was "sacred-sediment" ...Only a fierce crush could pour forth such a response, because until then we don't pay much regard to our broken places and we believe we can manage them fairly well and keep them hidden.  Crushes force the hidden to the surface and sediment seemed to spew forth from me like a timed sprinkler!  I was often caught off-guard by my responses or thoughts.  Where was all this coming from?  As I was pressed and crushed one thing became clear...the only thing that can come from a grape are the juices that are held within.  “From the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.”...

As my heart poured forth in unrestrained words and thought God was near.  He held every prickly stem and bitter seed that made itself known.  He gathered my tears and carried my sorrow.  I can't honestly say I believed it at the time, but looking back I know it is true.

Martin Marty said,

“Brokenness and wounding do not occur in order to break human dignity but to open the heart so God can act.”

Through this fierce "crushing", God was opening my heart...