Compassion

Whenever I've been away from reading Nouwen for a while then pick one of his books up again it's like being drastically, yet gently, reoriented.

I've never experienced anything like it before with any other author.  Nouwen is truly my spiritual mentor, though our conversations take place through books instead of over coffee.

I just finished the book Compassion, which is actually authored by Nouwen and two others.  I wasn't sure what I'd get out of it, but it became clear there was a lot I needed to hear from this short book.  One theme that resonated with me was the difference between competition and compassion.  I've come a long way, but I still struggle with competition.  It's how I've lived and strived for value for 30+ years, so I guess it figures it won't go away overnight.  Competition seeks to set apart in order to feel affirmed.  Compassion eliminates differences, bringing all to the basic level of humanity, so that we can enter into solidarity with others.

A compassionate person creates space for sharing joy, sorrow, pain.  Compassion gives, instead of taking.  "When we have discovered that our sense of self does not depend on our differences and that our self-esteem is based on a love much deeper than the praise that can be acquired by unusual performances, we can see our unique talents as gifts for others."

There were also a few words on prayer I needed to hear again.  I've lived most of my life with a totally false idea of what prayer is.  I viewed it as a 5 minute activity during which I needed to throw some praise God's way then list all my desires and hope I could talk him into doing things my way.  Here's what Nouwen says about prayer:

"Prayer, as a discipline that strengthens and deepens discipleship, is the effort to remove everything that might prevent the Spirit of God, given to us by Jesus, from speaking freely to us and in us."

"Prayer requires that we stand in God's presence with open hands, naked and vulnerable, proclaiming to ourselves and others that without God we can do nothing.  This is difficult in a climate where the predominant counsel is Do your best and God will do the rest.  When life is divided into our best and God's rest we have turned prayer into a last resort to be used only when all our own resources are depleted."

"Prayer is not what is done by us, but rather what is done by the Holy Spirit in us...This indicates that that prayer as a discipline of patience is the human effort to allow the Holy Spirit to do re-creating work in us...But above all, it involves the decision to set aside time every day to be alone with God and listen to the Spirit."

Nouwen's short little books are always packed with deep truths.  They challenge and encourage me at the same time.  I'm always reminded of how passionately God loves me- just the way I am.  But I don't feel content with staying just as I am.  I want to grow and blossom into a more loving person.  The temptation at that point is to follow steps, or take action to produce that growth within me.  As if I could create it for myself, or turn myself into something new.  When in reality, it requires surrendering to God's work within me.  Nouwen even addresses this in Compassion:

"Compassion is a divine gift, not a result of systematic study or effort.  Discipline in the Christian life does indeed require effort, but it is an effort to reveal rather than to conquer.  God always calls.  To hear God's call and allow that call to guide our actions requires discipline in order to prevent ourselves from becoming or remaining spiritually deaf.  There are so many voices calling for our attention, and so many activities distracting us that a serious effort is necessary if we are to become and remain sensitive to the divine presence in our lives."

Nouwen continues to turn the religious training of my youth on its head.  I wish I had been exposed to this kind of intimacy with God earlier.  I wish I had known God wasn't a list of rules and procedures, but a powerful force of Love at the center of my being calling me to soak up all his goodness and then pour out Love to all around me.

Is God Enough?

I woke up early this morning and as I lay in bed for a while just thinking and enjoying the darkness a question suddenly came to my mind.  It is a very familiar question to me.  I had to smile slightly as the long reverberating echoes of this particular question came softly into my awareness seemingly out of the blue.

I have asked myself this question a thousand times.  Over the past 2 or so years, it has been a big part of my spiritual and emotional healing journey.  It's a simple question.  But it isn't an easy question.

Is God enough for me?

I always thought I knew the answer to that query.  Of course!  It's an automatic "yes."  But the problem with a knee-jerk response of yes is that it's a shallow response that doesn't really reflect the beliefs of my heart.  I started asking myself that question in a serious, intentional way when it became obvious that for a very long time my answer was actually a blatantly loud NO.

Sure, God is enough for me...as long as my kids are healthy, and I feel successful, and my friends and family think highly of me, and I look trim and attractive, and I have my health, and I've got plenty of money...the list goes on and on.

Feeling a connection with God and dwelling in the ocean of his love for me was not where I really looked for fulfillment.  I was looking everywhere else because deep down I thought I needed these other things more than God to feel content and to be okay with who I was as a person.

Can God really give me everything I need to be at peace within myself?  Is his love really enough for me?  Maybe I should work on securing the approval of others...as a back up plan.

Over the years, as a fury of emotions have tried to feed a tree of selfishness inside of me I've forced myself to think of this question time and time again.  When I am tempted to defend myself, rationalize anything away, and prove that I'm a good person I ask this question.  When I am deeply disappointed and hurt I ask myself this question.  When I feel like reaching out for a comforting addiction to give myself a boost (you know, almost everyone has a few addictions; work, food, television, exercise, relationships, alcohol, shopping, there's a long list) I ask myself this question.

I would go so far as to say this question has shaped my life in new ways by forcing me to consider the true beliefs of my heart.  Carefully and prayerfully answering "yes"makes me act in ways that match up with that belief.  Answering "no" makes me figure out what is standing in the way of believing and working to remove or, more likely, asking God to remove those obstacles.

So of course I smiled when this old friend question of mine came into my thoughts.  And I wondered if I should share it.

I guess I just did.

Prayerful Exercise

God continues to teach me a lot about accepting myself where I am, not comparing myself to others, and surrendering control of everything to Him.

Just this week I had a big reminder (sort of a smack in the face) that I have a long way yet to grow.  I was running with a dear friend and my old thinking patterns:  I'm not good enough, I'm weak, I should be better at this, I'm a failure, Everyone thinks I'm awful, I'm not just a bad runner...I'm a bad person, started taking over my mind.  It's hard to explain how quickly and aggressively they avalanche out of control into a huge mess inside of me.  Before I know it, every negative thought or experience I've ever had about running (no shortage of those!) has set up residence in my head.  My body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, my throat constricts, my legs feel like they might give out from under me.

Because I trust my friend, and I share a lot of my thoughts and inner struggles with her, I told her what was happening on this particular run.  We slowed to a walk and did the only sensible thing at that moment.  We prayed.  

I really invited God into that mess that was going on in my head and asked that the truth about who I am would push all of the junk out of the way.  Well, actually my friend asked.  I was busy choking back tears.

A minute or so after her prayer, I felt like jogging so I broke into an easy trot and while before I had been struggling painfully, this time we just jogged a nice easy pace all the way back home without any problem. 

I've been trying to pray before and after any exercise that I do so I can keep a truthful mindset about my identity and the purpose of my exercise instead of letting my negative thought patterns carry me off down the wrong path.

It is becoming second nature to ask God into my time of exercise.  My body is his dwelling place.  Loving my body, being appreciative of everything it is and all it can do, caring for it with stretching and exercise, are acts of worship.  Being thankful, asking God to heal and strengthen areas of my body, being aware of the physical feelings, limitations, and reactions I experience are ways of affirming I am his creation.  He knows my body better than I do!  

When I pray, exercise becomes more about being fit and healthy, surrounded by God's love and available to carry out his will in my life.  When I don't pray, exercise is about fitting into a certain size, looking sexy, and running really fast and well so everybody, including me, will think I'm awesome.  

I much prefer the first option.  It's way more fulfilling, and comes with a sense of freedom.

Old habits die hard, but slowly and surely I'm letting go of the negative past and embracing the amazing  present.  So much freedom and contentment is mine for the taking when I choose it!

Rwanda: Gasaza

In December 2012, before it had ever crossed my mind that one day I might travel to Rwanda, Cody and I donated to an orphan education initiative led by the non-profit His Chase.  Mark and Chelsea Jacobs founded His Chase a couple of years ago and one of the biggest accomplishments so far has been sending around 250 orphans away from the Noel Orphanage where they lived and attended poorly run public schools to top-notch boarding schools.  It costs $100 per month per child, so for $1200 a year, an orphan can receive room, board, and one of the best educations available in Rwanda.  In fact, once they graduate from these private schools they will be the elite of the country.  That's how good the schools are.

There is a huge stigma surrounding orphans in Rwanda.  They are looked down upon, scorned, passed over for opportunities and jobs.  It is much harder than I think we can even imagine to be a fatherless, motherless child in Rwanda.  Even at the boarding schools, they endure teasing from the other children.
And for their entire lives they have doubted that anyone at all cares even the tiniest bit about them.  They are often ashamed, discouraged, lonely, frustrated, afraid, hungry, and weary.

But when His Chase started sending these school-aged orphans to school, they also matched each one with a sponsor.  Perhaps it was the person who paid their fee.  Perhaps it is someone who was willing to pray for and encourage the child.  However it all worked out, Cody and I were paired with Gasaza when we donated in December.  Actually, we became paired with him January 14th, right at the same time I was making the decision to go to Rwanda.

I received his picture and name and was told he was at Sonrise School in Gisenyi.  I would love to say that my heart was set afire in love and dedication to Gasaza at that moment, but sadly it was not.  I was wrapped up in my own affairs, happy to pay for his schooling and say a prayer now and then for him, but I was cold and distant, unmoved by his plight.

But when I traveled to Rwanda and met this child in the flesh, I fell absolutely in love with him.  Now I think about him all the time throughout the day, sincerely loving and praying for him and longing to see him again, longing to encourage him and show him God's love.  I am ashamed that it took that step of actually meeting him to ignite my passion for him and the other orphans, but I am thankful God was gracious enough to allow me to travel there and receive what I could not receive at a distance.

Gasaza is precious.  He is only 7, and very quiet and reserved.  He reminds me of a timid rabbit, silently observing all around him.  I spent time with him on 2 different days.  The first day, it took a while for him to warm up to me.  He would sit near me, holding my hand, but would not interact much and only when I initiated it.  I hugged on him, spoke my limited Kinyarwanda to him (the youngest children do not know much if any English yet), stroked his hair, kissed his head, showed him photos of my family, and kept him close to me wherever I went.

The second day, he ran to me.  He smiled much more often.  I felt as if we interacted more.  I tried to love on him as much as possible.  And then the time came to leave.  That was hard.  We loaded the bus, and I held my hand out to him through the window.  His eyes filled with water, then he started visibly crying.  At that point I seriously doubted if I had done the right thing.  Should I have loved on him for such a brief time knowing I can't stay...knowing I must leave...knowing it would be painful for both of us?

Later I looked back through my email and saw my Henri Nouwen devotional thought for that day and wouldn't you know it spoke exactly toward my concern:

Wednesday March 13, 2013 

Absence That Creates Presence

It is good to visit people who are sick, dying, shut in, handicapped, or lonely.  But it is also important not to feel guilty when our visits have to be short or can only happen occasionally.  Often we are so apologetic about our limitations that our apologies prevent us from really being with the other when we are there.  A short time fully present to a sick person is much better than a long time with many explanations of why we are too busy to come more often.

If we are able to be fully present to our friends when we are with them, our absence too will bear many fruits.  Our friends will say:  "He visited me" or "She visited me," and discover in our absence the lasting grace of our presence.

I believe it is better to love enduring pain than to not love at all.  And I know I will visit him again.  I am at the beginning of a relationship with this child.  He doesn't know yet that I am reliable, that I will keep loving him through the years.  Over time the love between him and my family will deepen and grow becoming more trusted and more of a blessing with each passing year.

Meeting Gasaza was a tremendous blessing for me. 

And here is a crazy story.  Before I left for Rwanda, because of some photos posted on Facebook, it came out that another mom with a child in Lucas' Kindergarten class knows Mark and Chelsea, in fact, she sponsors a child at Sonrise school through His Chase, too!  We had seen each other at pick up, had said "hi" a few times, yet were totally unaware that we were both involved with His Chase and Rwanda.  She has visited Rwanda also, and has a close relationship with her sponsor child Patrick.  While I was there I got to meet Patrick, give him hugs for my new friend, take his picture, bring a handwritten note from him back to my friend, and also record a video message from him on my iPhone.  What are the odds that two random women with kids in the same class at school are sponsoring children through His Chase?  Or is this perhaps less coincidence and more of God bringing people and events together in his timing for his purpose?

Gasaza in front of the chapel

Standing at the chapel, watching the kids come running to see our team

Sonrise School

Timid at first, looking at the letter Ava wrote to him

I couldn't stop hugging this sweet child!!!

Patrick...my friend's child!

Turning Point

Two years ago I was in a really bad place emotionally, physically, and spiritually.  I was miserable, and I was causing misery all around me.  I felt like I was falling in a bottomless abyss and had no idea what to do.  But in early March, with nothing, with everything, to lose, I finally got honest with myself and people who loved me about the chaos of my life and in complete brokenness I turned to God and confessed that I was far from him and needed his healing in big ways.

That was a turning point in my life.  I love that phrase.  There is a ministry for addicts at our church called Turning Point and I can't think of a better phrase to describe what happens when someone, when I, completely changed direction.  It was the start of a new journey.  God has been transforming my heart and molding it to look more like his.  He has been chipping away at the addictions, fears, resentments, anxieties, greed, jealousy, and pride.  He has been pouring his Truth, Love, and Grace into the dark, empty places.  And while it has not been an easy journey, he has brought mentors and friends alongside me and blessed me with the most self-less, tender-hearted partner in Cody.

I love these verses in Psalm 18 because they so perfectly capture how I feel about all of this:

I called to the LORD, who is worthy of praise,
and I have been saved from my enemies.
The cords of death entangled me;
the torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
The cords of the grave coiled around me;
the snares of death confronted me.

In my distress I called to the LORD;
I cried to my God for help.
From his temple he heard my voice;
my cry came before him, into his ears.

He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
he drew me out of deep waters.
He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
from my foes, who were too strong for me.
They confronted me in the day of my disaster,
but the LORD was my support.
He brought me out into a spacious place;
he rescued me because he delighted in me.

God has truly brought me into a "spacious place." I even see it in my mind as a lovely wide-open meadow, a symbol of freedom.  It's a place where I can breathe again, no longer chained and confined in slavery to sinful patterns.  I am learning to rest in him, to feel his presence, to let go of managing and controlling so he can be in charge.  Because of the trials I have passed through, I am now even able to reach out to others with love and encouragement as they face similar things.  I can exclaim with complete assurance, "God Saves!"

I would say the lesson I have been learning most is summed up in the last line of the scripture above.  "He rescued me because he delighted in me."  God loves me.  I am God's Beloved.  I have never operated out of a place of truly believing this, and I still don't half the time.  It has taken a lot of reading and prayer to start accepting the truth that I am dearly loved by God.  When I really grasp God's love for me is when I will be able to let go of the stupid ways I have tried to prove my value.  That is when I will be fully at rest and able to give love unselfishly to all around me.  That is my continued journey.

One Week

How can it suddenly be one week till I leave for Africa?

There have been so many other things going on the past few weeks...big things that require lots of attention, focus, energy...that my departure has snuck up on me.  I just haven't had the ability to think about packing, traveling, or loving on orphans until now (as in 5 minutes ago).  Now is my golden time of preparation.

Now that I have the chance to prepare (and the necessity of it is screaming in my face) I am almost unsure of what to do.  Packing for a week in Africa is a little bit daunting.  I don't want to overpack.  But I don't want to find myself lacking once there.  And oh yeah, I also need to prepare my heart and mind to be an open channel of God's love...I only need about 20 years to get that done, not a week!

So instead of starting, I sat down to write this.  (Shaking my head.)  I'm usually a list kind of person but in this case, I haven't even been able to make a list.  It's like I've got some mental block about it, some irrational fear of even starting to try to get it in order.

But I didn't really begin this entry with the idea of spilling my packing and organizational woes.  I think I wanted to just reach out and ask for many, many prayers.  I long to feel covered in prayer during this journey.  I would be so encouraged by anyone saying that they intend to ask God for blessings on my behalf.  Several have told me already that they are praying for me, for the team, for Cody and the kids, for the children and adults we will interact with in Rwanda...I can't explain how that lifts my spirit, how it encourages me, how it comforts me.

I have no idea what I'm headed into exactly.  I don't know how God will use me.  I don't know what God will teach me.  There may be a mixture of joy and sorrow involved.  And as long as I'm being honest, the idea of leaving my family for a week (which didn't seem so difficult when I signed up for this 2 months ago) is now tearing at my heart a bit.

I need to get started, and do something with the massive pile of "probably taking this to Africa" stuff in the middle of the bedroom floor.  But I really want to start by placing my will in God's hands, and I think it might take the prayers of the village to help me along there.

Ash Wednesday

I know, it's been a week since Ash Wednesday, but I'm just now feeling compelled to share my experience.  This was only my second time to go, but I know this is a service I will return to again and again.  In fact, it's practically my favorite day of the year.

I'm not even part of a faith tradition that marks Lent in any way.  We don't use liturgy.  We certainly don't smear ashes on foreheads.  So, to get my Ash Wednesday fix I have to visit some other church.  One author I read (Rachel Held Evans) calls this "cheating on the low church."

Last year what really stood out to me about the service was the phrase "Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return."  It was a hauntingly beautiful reminder of my own mortality and frailty.  This year that was still a touching part, but the highlight of the service was when we read the following from The Book of Common Prayer:


Litany of Penitence
The Celebrant and People together, all kneeling
Most holy and merciful Father:
We confess to you and to one another,
and to the whole communion of saints
in heaven and on earth,
that we have sinned by our own fault
in thought, word, and deed;
by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.
The Celebrant continues
We have not loved you with our whole heart, and mind, and
strength. We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We
have not forgiven others, as we have been forgiven.
Have mercy on us, Lord.
We have been deaf to your call to serve, as Christ served us.
We have not been true to the mind of Christ. We have grieved
your Holy Spirit.
Have mercy on us, Lord.

Ash Wednesday     267

---

We confess to you, Lord, all our past unfaithfulness: the
pride, hypocrisy, and impatience of our lives,
We confess to you, Lord.
Our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation
of other people,
We confess to you, Lord.
Our anger at our own frustration, and our envy of those
more fortunate than ourselves,
We confess to you, Lord.
Our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts, and
our dishonesty in daily life and work,
We confess to you, Lord.
Our negligence in prayer and worship, and our failure to
commend the faith that is in us,
We confess to you, Lord.
Accept our repentance, Lord, for the wrongs we have done:
for our blindness to human need and suffering, and our
indifference to injustice and cruelty,
Accept our repentance, Lord.
For all false judgments, for uncharitable thoughts toward our
neighbors, and for our prejudice and contempt toward those
who differ from us,
Accept our repentance, Lord.
For our waste and pollution of your creation, and our lack of
concern for those who come after us,
Accept our repentance, Lord.
Restore us, good Lord, and let your anger depart from us;
Favorably hear us, for your mercy is great.
Accomplish in us the work of your salvation,
That we may show forth your glory in the world.

That list that confesses all sorts of specific sin really landed on my heart and has buried itself there.  When it was read during service, I found myself nodding along, totally acknowledging yes, that's me.  I do that.  I'm guilty here.  And it created in me this perfect mixture of  grief and gladness.  I am truly grieved over my lack of love.  It bothers me so much that my love for others can be so weak, so pitiful. But I am overwhelmingly glad that God's love and grace forgives my shortcomings, and he aggressively seeks to restore all to a fuller measure of Love in Him.

What Is God Trying to Tell Me?

Do you ever have those moments in life when a certain thing keeps popping up out of the blue?

It might be a word, or thought, or a place, but it's a clear theme because it constantly emerges around every corner, even in the most unlikely places.

I'm having one of those times.

And it is really weird.  I'll be the first to admit I have no clue what this means or what direction it might point me toward.  In fact, it's just a little bit scary.

My theme is a place that keeps tugging at my heart, a place that started tugging quite a few years back but suddenly has upped the force to the point where I am getting weekly, almost daily reminders in my face about it.  It is a distant, broken, beautiful place.  It is Rwanda.

Years ago I became exposed to Rwanda through books.  I had never heard of the country.  I knew nothing of the terrible genocide that took place there in the early 90's.  I read Left to Tell by Immaculee Ilibagzia.  She survived the genocide and wrote a detailed account of it that tore at my insides and broke my heart in horror and grief.  I read An Ordinary Man by Paul Rusesabagina and Tom Zoellner which told how an ordinary hotel manager saved the lives of his fellow country people in the most amazing bizarre ways in the midst of the blood-lust and savagery.  I followed those books with Machete Season: The Killers in Rwanda Speak by Jean Hatzfeld.  That book interviewed those that participated in the murdering of an entire group of people in hopes of understanding more about their motivations and actions.  On my Amazon wish list is a book called Running the Rift by Naomi Benaron.  Apparently my draw to books about Rwanda is not over because I want to read this account of a Tutsi runner who escaped the genocide and has dreams for rebuilding his country.

My connection with Rwanda didn't end with books, though.  Several years later after reading The Hole in Our Gospel, I decided to sponsor a child through World Vision.  (A fabulous organization, by the way.)  They help children around the world, but where did I feel drawn to sponsor?  You guessed it: Rwanda.  There was a young girl, one year older than Ava who shared her January 30th birthday.  It has been a blessing to contribute in a concrete way to Providence, her family, and their community.

A year and a half ago I met a couple that has become close friends to Cody and me.  A few months into our friendship my girlfriend casually mentioned to me that she has friends who run an organization in Rwanda that helps children.  I didn't pursue involvement with it at the time, but that organization came to the front of my attention at the end of 2012.  I don't even remember how it happened, but Cody and I decided to donate to His Chase to help a child in Rwanda receive a year of schooling.  This led to a bit of back and forth emailing with the founder of His Chase which helped me feel even more connected to this organization.

Then, this morning I get on Facebook and what is the first story I see on the page?  A link to a post by a college acquaintance of mine who happens to be a missionary in Rwanda.  I had no idea this guy and his family were working in Rwanda.  I jumped over to his web page and read a fascinating, moving account of the work they are doing.

After that, I sat back in my chair and shivered.  Why has my long smoldering interest in Rwanda suddenly jumped to the forefront of my daily life?  What is going on here?  Why does this place, of all places keep turning up?

I don't know what it means.  But I know I need to tread carefully and keep my eyes and heart open.

*UPDATE:  After writing this blog post this morning, I joined a dear friend for a work-out followed by a smoothie.  She had not read my post.  I had not talked to her about my crazy Rwanda-filled world.  Guess what she told me out of the blue?  Her entire family is going to Rwanda for Spring Break.

The plot thickens.

Prayer

LORD,

Create something new and beautiful from the chaos of my heart.

Bring your Order and Peace into the restlessness of my life.

Free me from slavery to the desires that are born of Violence and Greed
so that I may be your child, whole and Holy.

Let me drink from your streams of Mercy
and eat at your table of abundant Life.

Help me to come to you first with every need because only you satisfy.

Amen

Speak Lord, I'm Listening

I'm thinking about radio frequencies this morning because I was just at the gym feeling frustrated that I have no way to tune into the stations listed above the televisions.  I can't read the subtitles while I jog because it makes me dizzy.  My iPhone won't pick up FM radio, though.

I realized this mirrors my life because I am always listening to something, but it might not be the best "station."  For years of my life, I walked around unable to tune in to the frequency of God talking to me and revealing his will and truth to my heart.  I was mostly tuned in to the "Me" station which is the dialog in my head that has a tendency to be mostly lies and false realities.  My inner station says things like you've gained a few pounds so you aren't pretty anymore and not really worth much.  You can't run 3 miles in 30 minutes, what's wrong with you?  You better get some attention and praise from the people around you to make sure you are okay and valuable.  I wonder what that person is thinking about you.  Can you cover this up to make yourself look better?  You've messed up and there's really no way to redeem this situation...it's hopeless.  People aren't treating you fairly...you better set them straight and demand your rights.  If you try and fail, you're worthless.  

And on and on...you get the picture.

The "Me" station is my default but every once and a while, sometimes for a short period of time, sometimes for longer, I tune in to what God is saying to me.  And at the risk of sounding like a fruitcake, I really believe God speaks to me either through written words, Scripture, other people, or (oh yeah, I'm going to say it) directly to my heart and mind.

It just happened last night.  I was feeling down about something so I called my friend and spilled my guts about how I was feeling tempted to worry about what other people thought of me.  I was really battling it in my head.  I knew I should focus on God instead of working myself up imagining what other people's opinion of me might be.  So my friend spoke some truth to my concerns.  After we hung up I picked up my Jesus Calling devotional book on a whim.  I had not looked at it in a few weeks and have no idea why I felt the urge to look up the date and read what it had to say.  I opened it up and read this:

"Don't be concerned about setting the record straight.  Instead of obsessing about other people's opinions of you, keep your focus on Me.   Ultimately, it's my view of you that counts."

Wow.  If that isn't God speaking directly to a concern of my heart in that moment I don't know what is.

That kind of thing happens over and over again.  I believe that God is constantly speaking to me and ministering to me whether I am tuned in to hearing it or not.  The blessings really flow when I move the dial around a bit and clear the static so I can really listen.  I spent years missing out on listening to the intimate teaching and comfort God was whispering to me.

And I spend hours, days, weeks missing out on it still even though I know it's there and I long to listen. My inner dialog and the noise of this world is intense!  My radio dial gets bumped all around, and it takes effort to carefully move it to a place where I can hear what really matters.  It takes discipline, and faith that there really will be something there worth hearing.  But the best part is when I finally zone in on the right frequency God isn't saying what took you so long?  Why can't you listen more and better?
He is saying I'm so glad you can hear me right now because my absolute favorite thing is when you and I are connected in Spirit and I can fill you with my Truth and Love.

And then I realize that's my absolute favorite thing, too!  I want to do life operating from a place of truth instead of from the false realities my mind can conjure.  When I focus on my own strength, my own plans, my own needs and ways I think I can get those filled...my life falls apart.  When I open myself to communion with God and listen to His plans, rely on His strength, believe He fills all my needs...it's like experiencing Heaven on earth.  Not in the sense of everything being perfect or pain-free but in the sense of being united with God in a way that overcomes fear, failure, loneliness, and greed.

A Year Ago...

A year ago at this time, I was on my first ever silent retreat.  I didn't go with a church group, or with any group at all.  I set it up for myself and by myself.  (With a big push from Cody and with all his blessings.)  I found a small cabin near a lake in Oklahoma.  I took books, journals, my Bible, a camera, candles, some meaningful music, crochet supplies, and an open mind and heart.

I was very silent, and fairly still.  I listened...a lot.  I went on a few jogs, a few walks, and a drive to visit my grandparents' grave.  I took some pictures, read a lot, memorized some Psalms, and wrote about it all in my journal.

I had no agenda.  I was only trying to be available and open to what God might want to say to me.  There was no tv, computer, or even phone...it was just me and God.  And he ministered to my heart for 3 days.  It was a very special time that I remember fondly one year later.  I heard some truths that I had been needing to hear.  I felt drawn into the lap of God and comforted.

This entry in my journal is something I feel comfortable sharing and sums up a little of what that weekend was about for me:

Be still.  (Don't scramble, rationalize, defend, grasp, argue, hide, or pretend.)

And know. (Without a doubt, deep in your quiet, still, innermost place.)

That I (not you, not any person whose notice or good opinion you might seek)

Am God.  (the Infinite, ever-present, Creator, Lover and Protector of your soul.)

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls."  Matthew 11:28-29

Open the Eyes of My Heart

I feel equally drawn to write and to not write about this.

I guess writing about it wins out, but I do so hesitantly because I am unsure if I can fashion the words in the right way.  Also, it is close to being too personal (between me and God) to share.

Many months ago, the preacher's wife at the church where we have been for about 18 months asked me when I was going to start singing on the praise team.  I knew her and her husband in college, in fact we sang together in Chorus.  My response was, when I can make it through the songs without bawling.

See, my eyes have sprung a leak recently, and I can barely make it through an entire song service at church without crying.  A year ago it was so noticeable that I think Ava was getting worried about me. She wasn't used to seeing her mom cry so much, so she often bent over to ask me if I was okay.  And I was okay.  Most of the crying I do because of the songs is joyful.  My heart is so thankful for the grace and love I have experienced, and it has become awakened to the presence of God within me.  The words and melodies of the songs we sing in church touch on that so deeply, I am often moved to tears.  I had no idea how powerfully the music in church could affect me until I became open to it.  Now it's rare for me to sing a song on auto-pilot.

But as time has passed, and my emotions are a bit more stable, I do not cry as often as I did before.  It still happens, just not all the time.  I decided to start practicing with the praise team and use my singing talents in that way.  Yesterday was my second time to be on the praise team (12 people with microphones singing 4 part harmony) and lo and behold it happened.  We were singing "Open the Eyes of My Heart" and I totally lost it.  I was crying like a baby, with mascara running, snot running, right there in front of the entire church.

It took a few minutes to pull myself together and continue singing.  And shortly after that we returned to our seats.  I was feeling embarrassed.  But as I relaxed and thought about it more, I realized that embarrassment is the response I would feel if it were about me- my performance, my appearance, what people think of me, and that isn't what it's about.  That isn't how I live these days.  It's not about me trying to maintain favorable reactions and admiration from the people around me in order to feel good about myself.  I have tapped into God's value system and because of that I am free from trying to control and manage how people react to me and also free from using others to find value for myself.  My embarrassment melted away and I felt at peace.

I have found so much freedom in so many ways because of the work God has done in my heart...this is just one example of it.

And just as I was finishing typing this, I yelled like a crazy woman at my kids.  So, there's still plenty of work to be done.  Believe me, plenty of work to be done.  Just got to keep opening my heart to God and letting his Spirit create something new in me.

Leaving Lent

The season of Lent, which I have tried to fully enter into this year, is ending. I journeyed with Henri Nouwen using his daily readings from the book Show Me the Way, and I spent time quietly sitting before God. Here are some of my reflections from this time:

Why give something up during Lent? Why pry our hands loose of one thing...meat, alcohol, television, eating out, or any number of things we count as a sacrifice to avoid? Do I hope to show solidarity in the suffering of Christ? Do I hope to realize how small, insignificant I am...how little control I really exert on my world?

Is it just a tradition, a pattern to follow annually? Will sacrifice make Easter more joyful, more real?

I don't know how anyone else would answer these questions, but I have given them a lot of thought recently. I think seasons of mindful "giving up" are required to help us enter in to the presence of God. I define the presence of God as Perfect Love. One of my main problems is that my own presence is so ridiculously huge. I dwell in my own thoughts, desires, dreams, passions, regrets, excitements, and plans all day long. And I believe that they are very important, most important! Sometimes I like to invite God into my presence. On my terms, of course.

But how backwards that is. I must grasp that at the center of my being, in the core of my mind, heart, soul- whatever is the basic element of my humanity- is the presence of God. The source of life. I am slowly learning to push away my own presence and listen to the quiet source of life within me. The quiet whisper of Love, that promises to fulfill every need I currently have or could ever imagine.

I don't usually believe Love can give me all I need, so I try desperately to round up fulfillment in achievements, praise, the adoration of those around me. I think my successes will make me significant. Maybe to the same degree that my failures make me miserably unworthy! But the human attempts to echo Perfect Love fall flat, reveal themselves to be cheap imitations, leave me resentful, angry, greedy, sad.

The whisper of Love calls me to enter into a sea of paradox. It tells me to give up trying to force others to give me what I need and just soak in the Love living inside of me. Love offers me rest in insignificance and promises to lift me up. Love says that emptiness, letting go of all I struggle to maintain for myself, allows me to be filled. Love reminds me that my wounds are the place of strength, sacrifice leads to gain, death leads to life. Love offers me a consistent identity, removed from all my efforts, successes, and failures.

By setting aside my compulsions, habits, the daily things I use for a high (a hit of praise, like a drug, gives me a fleeting moment of happiness), by setting aside something I usually cling to or take for granted as something I deserve (like alcohol or television), by setting aside the enormous, overpowering shadow of SELF maybe, just maybe, I can better hear the small still voice of Love inside of me. Maybe I can claim my identity as "the one who is Loved."

Then the task is to actually believe the voice. To spend enough time listening, to let go of self and cling to God enough times, to allow myself to fully know that Love doesn't end and Love doesn't fail and Love is enough.

Only then will I be able to give love to others. During Lent I watch Jesus live a life of unity with the Perfect Love. I see him believe Love is enough to the point of giving his life for it. I listen to him calling me to do the same. It's not always clear...my big old SELF gets in the way so often, it blocks my ears, it thinks it can find life for itself. But every time I taste Love, it leaves me hungry for more. I'm coming back more and more often. I'm learning. I'm leaving Lent, but I want to keep learning.

Excerpts from 1 John 4:

...love comes from God...God is love. God lives in us and his love is made complete in us. We know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear. We love because he first loved us.

From 1 Corinthians 13:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.

What I Want

My daily Lent reading from Henri Nouwen nailed it this morning when it comes to describing what I want (and don't want) for my life. Here are a few sentences that jumped out at me:

"When we start being too impressed by the results of our work, we slowly come to the erroneous conviction that life is one large scoreboard where someone is listing the points to measure our worth. And before we are fully aware of it, we have sold our soul to the many grade-givers."

"A life without a lonely place, that is, a life without a quiet center, easily becomes destructive. When we cling to the results of our actions as our only way of self-identification, then we become possessive and defensive and tend to look at our fellow human beings as enemies to be kept at a distance instead of friends with whom we can share the gifts of life."

"In solitude, we can slowly discover in the center of our own self that we are not what we can conquer, but what is given to us."

"In solitude we become aware that our worth is not the same as our usefulness."

And Nouwen concludes with this prayer from the Psalm 139:

Yahweh, you examine me and know me,
you know when I sit and when I rise,
you understand my thoughts from afar.
You watch when I walk or lie down,
you know every detail of my conduct.

God, examine me and know my heart,
test me and know my concerns.
Make sure I am not on my way to ruin,
and guide me on the road of eternity.

Ash Wednesday

I've mentioned before that I'm extremely interested and focused on experiencing Lent in a meaningful way this year.

Because of this, I decided to attend an Ash Wednesday service for the first time in my life. These are my reflections about this incredibly moving, beautiful experience.

My faith tradition has no special service for or observance of Lent, so everything I saw and did today was fresh and new to me. I've taken communion before, but not like I did today. I've sung the hymn "Just As I Am" before, usually at the end of revival meetings as the preacher hopes people will come forward for prayer or baptism, but not like today while accompanied by an organ. There were extensive readings from Psalm 51 and 103...which incidentally are the only 2 Psalms I have memorized, but these translations were different. So there were many familiar things, but they were presented in completely new and different ways. It was nice because it didn't allow for any auto-pilot time which is something I think we all fall into on occasion in familiar church settings.

I loved the formality of the event. It spoke to me about the reverence due God. I loved the readings from the Bible that were presented in large chunks with no commentary or explanation. The passages spoke for themselves, and called my heart to attention. My favorite part was the receiving of the ashes. I have to admit I was nervous to walk to the front. Remember, I had no idea about the rules, or protocol. I was trying to imitate those around me, but I know I did not do things exactly right. There were two people distributing the ashes, one male and one female. As they marked each person they repeated the phrase "Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return." That phrase was echoing continuously, in those two distinct voices. I felt as if the phrase itself was swirling around me, boring into my heart and mind. It was the clearest reminder of my humanity, and my place before God that I have had in a long time.

The other most powerful moment was participating in Communion. Again, I walked to the front. One person placed a wafer in my hand as they spoke the phrase "This is the body of Christ." Another person held forth a silver cup of wine. As I tipped it to drink a sip he said, "This is the blood of Christ given for the forgiveness of your sins." Again, these phrases echoed over and over, throughout the room, filling my heart and mind.

We sang a hymn near the end of the service that I had never heard before. The words touched me because they resonate with my desires for this season of Lent. The title is Lord, who throughout these forty days.

Lord, who throughout these forty days For us didst fast and pray, Teach us with Thee to mourn our sins And close by Thee to stay.

As Thou with Satan didst contend, And didst the victory win, O give us strength in Thee to fight, In Thee to conquer sin.

As Thou didst hunger bear, and thirst, So teach us, gracious Lord, To die to self, and chiefly live By Thy most holy Word.

And through these days of penitence, And through Thy passiontide, Yea, evermore in life and death, Jesus, with us abide.

Abide with us, that so, this life Of suffering over past, An Easter of unending joy We may attain at last.

It was formal, but not stifling. It was fresh, but not overwhelming. It was dictated by special participational readings, but (at least for me) it was not repetitive or by rote. It was an honor to be a part of this service. It brought tears to my eyes. It strengthened my love for God and my knowledge of his love for me. I plan to attend every year. In fact, I am going to look forward to this each year in joyful anticipation.

Nouwen Book and Lent

I keep finding just the right books for the place I am in my spiritual journey.

At Half Price this weekend I found a book by Henri Nouwen that I didn't even know existed and is the perfect material for me. I have been looking forward to the upcoming season of Lent this year. In the past, Lent has meant little to me. But lately I have begun to see the powerful beauty in this opportunity of confession, purification, and realization that God is performing a redeeming work in my heart. I want to experience Lent in a meaningful way that highlights my empty weakness and my yearning for Christ to fill me to overflowing with his peace and love.

I wasn't sure what that was going to look like, but then this little book jumped off the shelf and into my arms. Henri Nouwen wrote a book of daily meditations for Lent!

Starting on February 22 I will get to read one of Nouwen's thought-provoking, spirit-touching devotional thoughts every day before spending some quiet time in silence and solitude. I am almost giddy about this, and I know it's a weird thing to be giddy about. I have high expectations that God is going to meet me in my openness and wrap me in his presence. Regardless of what I feel during this time, I am looking forward to the discipline and routine this will be for the duration of Lent and I know it will bring new joy to my Easter Sunday.

The book Show Me the Way is available on Amazon, and you know it's got to be good because it's by Henri Nouwen. There's plenty of time to get a copy before Lent begins if this idea has sparked a desire within you as well. However you decide to experience Lent this year, I hope it is a time of blessing and growth for you and that it brings you ever closer to unity with God.

Questions

A few months ago, it was brought to my attention that Jesus asked a ton of questions in scripture. It seems like a lot of times he even taught with questions, not detailed dialogues. I was encouraged in a study to think about what question Jesus might be asking me...right now. Since I do believe God's Word is living and active, the idea that a question might be being asked of me isn't beyond my belief. I figured if I spent some time praying, quiet and listening, I may hear a question specific to my heart and life.

The first thing I did was look up a list of questions Jesus asked. I didn't realize how many there are! This site lists 100 of them. I thought about pasting the list here, but it's very long. I read over the list, thinking a bit of context might be helpful for a few of them, then I spent time sitting still and listening.

It didn't take long at all to hear, clearly, the question Jesus was asking me personally. He asked, "Am I enough for you?"
Maybe that seems like an odd question, but to me it was exactly what needed to be asked. What do I think I need besides Jesus? And for a long time there have been many things on that list. Do I need people to think or feel a certain way about me? Do I need to appear to have it all together? Do I need to achieve something career-wise or gain respect from peers? Maybe I need to own a few special items, or feel safe financially. I realized I had a long list of things I "needed" and I was forced to confront the question "Can I be satisfied, fully content, with only Jesus...even if I have none of these other things?"

I have wrestled with that question now, and continue to hear it being asked in my life. Sometimes I even repeat the phrase "Is God enough for me?" while I jog to force myself to come to a conclusion and live by it. It hasn't been an easy question to hear and meditate on, but it has been revealing and instructive to me.

I could stop there, having disclosed something fairly personal. Or, I could go ahead and prompt the reader to think about the possibility that God may have a question for your heart as well. I have no idea what it might be, but a curious soul could sit and listen for a bit and probably find out. My only warning is that it might not be comfortable, but it is definitely worth it.

God Within

Peel back the layers

like an onion

to the burning place within

where words are helpless

to capture the pulse of existence.

Like burning white hot fire

is the Spirit of God

that dares make his home

in broken, dusty shells of man

unworthy of such a gift.

Dull ears, blind eyes, hard hearts

can you sense what is within you?

Do not flesh and bones cry out

in frightened awe that

the breath of God is present here?

My mind cannot capture his image.

My heart cannot contain his love.

My lips cannot convey his power.

Yet he claims my very being

as his holy temple.

Love

When I run on the treadmill at the gym, I watch the Bravo channel on TV. I feel lucky if a reality cooking competition is playing. I'm bummed if it's a stupid reality show about single people living in Dallas or like today, the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills or wherever they are. These women have it all, but I noticed that their marriages are crumbling and miserable.

It got me thinking about how it doesn't matter if you've got $50 in the bank or $50,000, the killer for a marriage is and always will be the same thing: Selfishness. Selfishness kills any relationship. Any time a person has the mindset of what can I get out of this, how can I get my needs met, how are you going to fulfill me...there's a problem.

The opposite of selfishness is, of course, Love. Love is wanting what's best for another person even if it costs you something. And I use the word cost loosely because it probably won't be monetary (though it could be). It might cost your pride, time, wants, comfort, etc. I guess in a perfect world, couples would fight over who gets to be more sacrificial. It kind of makes me bristle to read that. Why should I be more sacrificial? What if I get walked all over...I better assert my rights! Ah, selfishness creeping back into my thoughts.

Turn my heart toward your statutes and not toward selfish gain. Ps 119:36

Then he said to them all "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me." Luke 9:23

No one should seek their own good, but the good of others. 1 Cor 10:24

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility, value others above yourselves. Phil 2:3

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16

Mind and Heart

"The longest journey a man must make is the 18 inches from his head to his heart." -Unknown

I might have the most active mind on the planet. That isn't bragging because my mind isn't busy finding the cure for cancer or strategizing how to end famine in Africa. My mind is usually busy rehashing past events, worrying about the future, devising arguments, rationalizations, or defenses for myself...or my favorite absurdity, holding pretend conversations with people about our unresolved issues.

I don't want to live life in my head though. I would much rather live it in my heart. But like the quote above says, it isn't easy to drag our existence from the mind to the heart. Mine is almost always kicking and screaming the entire way. Henri Nouwen tells the story of a man who repeated the phrase "Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner" hundreds of thousands of times until one day the man found that the phrase was repeating itself with every beat of his heart. It had become a part of his emotional make-up. It was no longer a thought, or even words, but an internalized piece of who he was as a person.

Some things come naturally to my heart. When I look at my kids, I am full of love for them. I don't go through a list of pros or cons of loving them, or analyze anything about how I feel about them or how I can know what I feel about them is true. It just is. I would love to experience the peace of God the same way I experience love for my kids. Sometimes I do have a taste of that peace that passes understanding. Sometimes my heart is full of calm and rest that has absolutely nothing to do with my thoughts but is the direct experience of God's presence. However, that isn't my default mode.

I would like to experience love, joy, peace, and even pain, loneliness, and sorrow in my heart as internalized realities separate from and transcending the knowledge of them in my mind. I think it takes practice. And in a lot of ways, I think it takes courage. The mind can hold things at a distance, but the heart is vulnerable. This is why people can quote entire passages of scripture and attend church 3 times a week for decades but fail to be moved by the photo of a starving child or fail to be grieved over a sin in their life. I know that because I've lived there. I've known things in my mind but failed to move them to the heart.

What has helped me is starting to think of my heart as the place where God exists within me or as my "home." Again, I have to thank Nouwen for that analogy. And I have to come home over and over again, away from the analyzing and conceptualizing to the raw truth of experiencing things with God. Finding our way home gradually becomes easier, and we may stay at home for longer periods of time. But we can never be permanently at home in this lifetime. That's why the story of the prodigal son has come to mean so much to me. It is a constant homecoming, repeated over and over in my life and always with the same care, concern, and welcome from the Father who loves me more than I can imagine.

I ran across this quote on a friend's facebook status this morning:

"When we engage the Scriptures for spiritual transformation, we make it our top priority to listen to God relationally rather than seeking only to learn more about God cognitively. Our approach is driven by the longing of a lover. We read slowly so that we can savor each word and let its meaning sink in." - Ruth Haley Barton, Sacred Rhythms

I love how it contrasts cognitive and relational experience. I'm finding that slowing down, being still, quiet, and available for experiencing life with God in my inner place is deepening my sense of identity as a child of God.