So I was there. Knees on the rock. Kneeling. Covered by the shadow of a white stone cross of sixty feet. Seven times the size of our house. Seven. A giant representation of Sacrifice. Of Humility. Hovering over me like a Father protecting His daughter. Demanding respect – Gently……..Quietly. No one was around – save the deer watching me from the woods. Hands opened. Heart bare. So I was there. And He was there. And we were there – together. I looked up and imagined being at the foot of another cross a very long time ago, on a very different day indeed. I blinked and my spirit saw him there. Imagined. Him there. Hanging. There. Just Me. Just Him. Together. My tears started to blur the image I had created, and it began to rain.
Slowly. But Surely. Soft Rain.
And we were there. Together.
The raindrops blended with my teardrops and we were one. He and I. A girl and her God. And His cross.
You see I go to this place sometimes. It is a secret place. Not so far away from home. But far enough. There is a cross there. A huge hovering powerful mighty majestic cross…..overlooking a beautiful valley. Sunset takes on a different meaning. As does life.
I go there to read and to write and to…..pray. I have gone there for years now. I have prayed there for years now. But, strangely, only at the front of the cross. I would kneel outside of the iron fence surrounding it – about twenty feet out from the cross itself. I was always content to pray there – outside of the fence. Until tonight.
Going on a run at sunset after a long day of working and business plans and budgets and email returning and phone calls. I drove to the little cove where the Cross resides. Beautiful sunset. Beautiful run. As I was running back, I saw the cross upcoming in the distance. Three deer to the side ran away as I approached. I am truly in their world. A spectator. I realized I needed three more minutes to get my time in, so I ran around the path that led behind the cross. A discovery. It’s open! The fence has a giant opening on the backside of the cross and rocky stoned steps leading right up….
To the Foot
Of the Cross
I was not bashful. As I approached it, I was simply humbled. I was glad I was humbled. Soaking it in, I begin to kneel. Not unlike what I often do when I am there. But much different this time. It felt as if I was approaching an old friend I had not seen in a very long time. Looking them in eye after being unable to see their face for ages. I was alone there. Strangely, I am usually alone there, but for some reason I did not feel alone – not alone at all. I was....... Together.
Togetherness is one of the sweetest gifts we are given. It is a warming of the soul. We can go through so much more when we are simply, well, …………not alone. My mind goes back to Congo. I am in front of 50 orphans that ALARM had sponsorsed in Goma. I was amazed at their pain, and I was equally amazed at their strength. I had just met the most traumatized little boy I had ever seen. He was around six. He came into the room and was showered with the gifts ALARM had provided for them. His eyes were as blank as his face. Nothingness. Flat. Somewhere far far away in a land of protection that he had not chosen to go willingly. He had gone there out of protection from a heart so broken and pain so unbearable that he simply could not live in it. So he lived detached from the reality around him. Emotional Survival. I was asked to say a few words to the children. I remember just drawing a blank. I was there, but there was nothing coming out. I looked back at the women I was with and when I turned back around, God provided. I told them that even though they were orphans on earth – they were not alone. That God was their heavenly parent. He was their mother. He was their father. He loved them more than they could ever imagine. I had them look around at each other and see the faces of their brothers and sisters. I asked them to hold hands as we prayed together. I told them that they
Were. Not. Alone.
You see going through hell is one thing, but going through hell holding the hand of someone who is there to comfort you is vastly different. Togetherness – such a sweet gift.
My mind drifted back. I was there, on the fifth step from the top of the steps. Kneeling. Soaking in the shower of rain as a covering.
No, I was not alone at all. He and I. Togetherness. I saw the top of the steps at the very bottom of the cross, and I was drawn to go there. So I did. Looking up and up and up to the top. Imagining the crown he would be wearing. Then looking down and down and down. Imagining the nail he would be bearing. I reached up and touched the cross at the very bottom. I was…..bashful. Touching the cold wet stone of the cross, imaging I was touching the feet of my Savior. A powerful moment to say the least. And all that came out was:
“Thank you…. I just want to Thank You”
And so I did.
The rain became stronger. The thunder louder. My tears heavier. And I simply did not want to leave. Feeling as close to my Lord as I had felt in some time. Together. He and I.
Walking away I looked back and my mind’s eye could still see him there. Looking at Me. Me, Looking at Him. It was as if I was leaving my first love. I was. But I wasn’t. He is my first love – and possibly my last. But, as First Loves go – He will ever be etched in my heart. Whether that be at the foot of a massive white stone cross or in the middle of a room full of orphans. We will and will always be
Together. Forever.
And as I write this Mr. McDonald sings…......
“What a beautiful God.” And so He is.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Painting Sandcastles
I built a sandcastle today. In My Mind. Have you ever done that? Done things in your mind. Pretending them to be real? It’s a rather lazy way to live, actually. It takes the Doing out of Living and replaces it with Imagination and Shadows that have no real Movement - and no real Pain. But.....If Imagination is the next best thing to Living, then it can’t be all that bad. Some say Imagination is actually Magical. I would agree. Wholeheartedly. Especially when it comes to building sandcastles.
In
Your
Mind
I was lying on the beach. Wind vigorously blowing my hair. Somehow drowning out all sound. Ocean teasing me as the tide came closer and closer. I looked down. Tunneling out all around me as if my eyes were a camera lens zooming in on my fingertips. They began playing with the sand, as if they were not my own.
Rubbing the granules together back and forth in between my fingertips, I drift. My mind takes my back to Santorini, Greece. My Magical Place that I often go to in my mind. There was a beach there. The Red Beach, they called it. Red Sand. Red. You have to climb up and down and across lots of volcanic rock to get to this cove, and then you climb down to actually get to the beach itself. Red. Beach. Surrounded by Volcanic Rock. Dirty. Rugged. Beautiful. Red. Sand.
My Imagination takes me away......there. "THIS cross, beautiful girl! This one is the one for you!" I smile at him, and I agree. That one IS the one for me. "Can I have my picture taken with you? With your cross?" I agree of course.... I was on day seven of backpacking the Greek Islands by myself. 2006. Me and God. A great pair we were back then, I must say. I looked down at the beach and I thought,
You know, I had this sort of vision once of Painting Sandcastles. Not just with paint - but with Gold. Liquid Gold. So many people diligently detailing the sandcastles with their tiny paintbrushes, giving attention to every crevese, delicately placing all jewels in perfect castle edges, blowing away the unneeded sand from the proper places. Proud Looks. Accomplished chests protruding from striving souls. And then she blew. And then it came. And then the teasing was not teasing any longer. In one clean sweep. One turbulous tide. It was......
Gone.
And they were left standing with this befuddled look of "what just happened" on their face. Tiny paintbrushes in hand. Standing on a beautiful Red Beach with a backdrop of towering carved volcanic rock. What was that? It was this:
When Life Meets Forever. That's "What Just Happened". When Life gives way to Forever then all things Living, simply, well.....End. Scary? I would say. When all things things finite meet all things infinite then All Things Forever overshadows All Things Not-Forever. And, well, all the energy we spend into painting Golden, Red, Magical Sandcastles all of a sudden seems.....Meaningless? Under the Sun?
But there are things that are - Forever. What things? Those things that alter the spirit. Those things that mend the heart. Those things that heal the soul. Those things. All things. Forever. Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faith. Hope.....oh, have I said Love? Those things that reach beyond Life and into Forever. Eternal Forever - and the one who created it.
You know why sand is sand? You know what it is really? It is a mixture of Rock and Minerals. Mainly - Quartz. The mineral least likely to be tethered by life's elements.
Seems significant. The mighty strong towers of Africa taught me more than these fingers could ever reveal in words. I remember when we were at our last IDP camp in Congo. The darkest one. The children surrounding us. Nudging in Desire. Desperate in Want. Hungry. Thirsty. Wanting just to Go Home. Crying to GO HOME - literally. Last camp, I will never forget. Most of the children in this camp didn't speak English - but they did know how to beg. I don't fault them at all. If I were born into that camp? I would have been the chief begger. The over-achiever begger. The begger among beggers. But this little boy......this one I will never forget.
All else were wanting money. All else were wanting food. All else were wanting. Something. Some THING. This boy was searching for morsels of a different kind. He came to me as if he was seeking me out. Touched my arm -softly. Looked at me - gently. Broken english he said this:
My eyes drew into his. As if a camera lens zooming in on one thing: His eyes. As if they were not his own.
"In this world of darkness you live in - you are not asking me for food, or drink, or even to go home. You want a bible?" And I had nothing to give him. Save a prayer and a smile and a hug. And a longing to see him in the Forever. One day.
Words I have read all of my life suddenly took on a different meaning. Words of a Savior: "See? ... if you have my living water, you'll never be thirsty again..."
All
Things
Forever
In
Your
Mind
I was lying on the beach. Wind vigorously blowing my hair. Somehow drowning out all sound. Ocean teasing me as the tide came closer and closer. I looked down. Tunneling out all around me as if my eyes were a camera lens zooming in on my fingertips. They began playing with the sand, as if they were not my own.
Rubbing the granules together back and forth in between my fingertips, I drift. My mind takes my back to Santorini, Greece. My Magical Place that I often go to in my mind. There was a beach there. The Red Beach, they called it. Red Sand. Red. You have to climb up and down and across lots of volcanic rock to get to this cove, and then you climb down to actually get to the beach itself. Red. Beach. Surrounded by Volcanic Rock. Dirty. Rugged. Beautiful. Red. Sand.
My Imagination takes me away......there. "THIS cross, beautiful girl! This one is the one for you!" I smile at him, and I agree. That one IS the one for me. "Can I have my picture taken with you? With your cross?" I agree of course.... I was on day seven of backpacking the Greek Islands by myself. 2006. Me and God. A great pair we were back then, I must say. I looked down at the beach and I thought,
"What would it look like to build a sandcastle of Red Sand? A Red Sandcastle"
What would it look like? Purely and Simply - Incredible.
The Sandcastles of all Sandcastles.
You know, I had this sort of vision once of Painting Sandcastles. Not just with paint - but with Gold. Liquid Gold. So many people diligently detailing the sandcastles with their tiny paintbrushes, giving attention to every crevese, delicately placing all jewels in perfect castle edges, blowing away the unneeded sand from the proper places. Proud Looks. Accomplished chests protruding from striving souls. And then she blew. And then it came. And then the teasing was not teasing any longer. In one clean sweep. One turbulous tide. It was......
Gone.
And they were left standing with this befuddled look of "what just happened" on their face. Tiny paintbrushes in hand. Standing on a beautiful Red Beach with a backdrop of towering carved volcanic rock. What was that? It was this:
When Life Meets Forever. That's "What Just Happened". When Life gives way to Forever then all things Living, simply, well.....End. Scary? I would say. When all things things finite meet all things infinite then All Things Forever overshadows All Things Not-Forever. And, well, all the energy we spend into painting Golden, Red, Magical Sandcastles all of a sudden seems.....Meaningless? Under the Sun?
Even if the purest of Time is spent nurturing the most precious of Lives - but does not bleed Love. What does it mean? If we spend our lifetime chasing grand and golden dreams that remove all of the worries of life - but then Life......Ends......... we are faced with the lifelong question from the Beginning of Beginnings:
What Is The Purpose Of Life?
If our purpose of life does not involve something that continues beyond the Living - then can we really call it Purposeful? If the only thing in life that lasts is that which we cannot see, taste, or touch and we put all our energy into mending all things broken on earth - then will it not soon be. washed. away? You See - that Ocean is a killer. It is not Timeless. It is not Forever - and neither are most Sandcastles.... regardless of their Beauty.
But there are things that are - Forever. What things? Those things that alter the spirit. Those things that mend the heart. Those things that heal the soul. Those things. All things. Forever. Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faith. Hope.....oh, have I said Love? Those things that reach beyond Life and into Forever. Eternal Forever - and the one who created it.
All Things Forever: Mending Broken Heartaches, Freeing Bonded Spirits, Feeding Hungry Minds, Warming Frozen Hearts. We spend so much time and energy and money in Curing Diseases, Building Bank Accounts, Washing Dishes - but tend to forget that Forever is Forever -and what happens when Today ends and Forever Begins? And
What would it look like if we put as much energy into those things we could not see as those things we become blinded by?
Ever thought about that? When you feed a child, that which fills their stomach will disappear. Hunger returns. It always does. But if you teach a child how to Hope. Wow. Teach a child how to Hope? It will be their greatest companion on a hungry night. You can give a thirsty man water - but if you teach him about Joy. Man, that's where it's at. Joy can Quench a Tired Spirit long after the water runs out. Straight A's without a Strong Spirit means little when death happens or she is date raped or his masculinity is cut to the core in the locker room. Following through on a beautifully planned ornate wedding day is small in comparison to knowing what it means to stay and fight for a marriage when infatuation gives way to reality. Teach her how to tie her shoe -yes, indeed. But teach her how to Run Life's race with a Tenacity and Strength, and she will be able to run barefoot on Field Day and beat all the boys (ok, ok - maybe one beat me : )
Show them the grandest ways to climb the ladder in the finest of suits - but fail to teach them about the vitality of a relationship with a Savior or the overflowing fulfillment felt when the Created knows the Creator, and you will short change them for Eternity. I wonder....what would happen if we used the gifts and talents that lie within each of us for a better forever? To alter the reflection of a soul by showing them a reflection of a Savior to, possibly, alter a reflection of what Forever will look like - Forever. Can you Imagine?
We Paint Our Sandcastles. Not just paint them. We gold plate them. Spend hours traveling to the Greek Islands to find the Grandest sand in the most Glorious places and build the most Elaborate sandcastles in order to paint them with the Finest of gold and the Rarest of jewels and then -
The Tide Comes. The Teasing Ocean Beckons. And then - Sand gives way to Water. Today becomes Forever -and all things that matter will all of a sudden, well, matter. Greatly. Gloriously. In the Grandest Fashion.
I say all of that to raise this question: Five Words:
Where Does Your Treasure Lie?
You know why sand is sand? You know what it is really? It is a mixture of Rock and Minerals. Mainly - Quartz. The mineral least likely to be tethered by life's elements.
Least likely to be Tethered by Life's elements.
Seems significant. The mighty strong towers of Africa taught me more than these fingers could ever reveal in words. I remember when we were at our last IDP camp in Congo. The darkest one. The children surrounding us. Nudging in Desire. Desperate in Want. Hungry. Thirsty. Wanting just to Go Home. Crying to GO HOME - literally. Last camp, I will never forget. Most of the children in this camp didn't speak English - but they did know how to beg. I don't fault them at all. If I were born into that camp? I would have been the chief begger. The over-achiever begger. The begger among beggers. But this little boy......this one I will never forget.
All else were wanting money. All else were wanting food. All else were wanting. Something. Some THING. This boy was searching for morsels of a different kind. He came to me as if he was seeking me out. Touched my arm -softly. Looked at me - gently. Broken english he said this:
"Bible - A bible. Have a bible. Please?"
My eyes drew into his. As if a camera lens zooming in on one thing: His eyes. As if they were not his own.
"In this world of darkness you live in - you are not asking me for food, or drink, or even to go home. You want a bible?" And I had nothing to give him. Save a prayer and a smile and a hug. And a longing to see him in the Forever. One day.
Words I have read all of my life suddenly took on a different meaning. Words of a Savior: "See? ... if you have my living water, you'll never be thirsty again..."
I built a sandcastle today. A Magical Sandcastle. But it was not made of sand......is was made of three things.
Things
Forever
And I am painting it gold : )
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Silent Space
There is something about Silence. Something peaceful. Something mystical. Something uncomfortable. Something fearful. Something beautiful.
It is Spacious. Full. Empty. Barren. Wonderful. Frightful. Real. A Gaping Hole giving us the priceless opportunity to fill it with Complete Fear or Complete Courage. It can be on the other end of the phone after a question. It can be an empty house that reminds us of our alone-ness. It can be the peaceful wonderful quiet after the storm. Maybe the end of Chaos. Maybe the beginning of a New Day. Those few seconds in the morning after turning off our alarm. Those few minutes at night before drifting off to sleep.
Silence. It is not just the absence of sound. It is the filling of space. It is the question of what you fill it with. It is what you hear when you hear nothing at all. What is it? That you hear?
I went running tonight on the beach. Barefoot. One of my favorite things to do in the world. Sunset......Passing Passer-Byes. Some were alone in their Silence. Walking possibly to "clear their heads." Some were hand in hand with their lover. Maybe mumbling. Maybe laughing. Maybe not. All were....Walking. None were......Still. None. I ran and ran and ran. Soaking in the Silence of the Waves. Watching the Life of the Sun surrender to the Calm of the Moon. As it became darker - as it became calmer - as it became silent.
I wonder - is life not so different? We walk and we journey and we run and we search for those things to fill our Space - our Silence. Why? Because often sitting with it - in it - surrounded by it....is too much to bear. It is the place we come to where we are alone with our thoughts, the sounds of reality - to be or not to be. Our thoughts can be our best friends or our worst enemies.....all dependent upon the Source. I have found that it is one of the most Beautiful places to find and to sit and to refuse - to - move - from: STILLNESS. The time of deepest change. The place of greatest revelation.
Silence. That place we all come to late at night - when the house is empty - when the Space is Great and the Quiet is ferociously Loud and
We
Hear
It
Nothing......... Haivng the choice to either fill the space with one of two things. Really. Cutting it all down.
Him or Us.
It is the place we all come to at some point in our lives when we look deep within the mirror and ask ourselves:
Who Are You? Do You Like What You See? Where Are You Going?
Maybe faced with a decision. Maybe many. And we peer deep into our own eyes into life's mirror. Making a choice - do we look away? Do we grab the Paint of Pretending lying beside of us on the counter to hide. to cover. again? Or do we stand there in our rawness and in our realness and be brave. Be Brave. It takes that. Courage.
Courage to face the reality of ourselves in the mirror. Courage to pick up the phone and make that call. Courage to ask forgiveness to forgive to change to reach out. Asking ourselves those questions....Fearing the answers. Looking deep within, often wanting to look away. We do one of two things:
Fill the Space with our Selves or His Spirit.
Sounds a bit strange to cut it down so shallowly. But there is nothing Shallow about it. We can run or we can hide or we can stand. Running entails escaping. Moving. Walking. Running......much like a jog on the beach. Movement is the greatest escape from Reality. Hiding involves Cowering. Eden's Hedge. Leaves can Cover but they cannot hide. Don't look AT me as you might see THROUGH me. And then there is the choice to Stand. Standing. Sitting. Being. STILL.
Refusing to move, refusing to run, refusing to hide. Committing to Stay.....In.....The....Space. In.......The......Silence....and:
LISTEN.
I have found that it is in that Space that Magical things can happen. It is in that Space that the Wisdom of God shouts the loudest. It is in that space that Courage is nurtured and Change is discovered. It is when we look in the mirror, past our eyes, In. To. His. that answers are found. They may not be pretty or proper or neat or tidy. They will likely be messy and sticky and hard. But The Will Be Real.
Look Deeply. What do you see? Hope. Newness. Discovery.
Touch Softly. What do you feel? Relief. Breath. Calm.
Listen Loudly. What do you hear? Love. Faith................. Crashing Waves.
I am back now. Sand covering my feet. Sweat covering my clothes. Salt covering by skin. Stillness covering my soul.
Silence Covering My Spirit - and He is there. My God. My Faith. My Hope. My Love. Respectfully accepting my invitation to peer back at me in my own mirror. Welcoming my questions. Sitting with me in my Space. That Space that so quickly changes from a place of Fear to place of Anticipation and Discovery......all because of one thing.
The One I invite to Sit With Me.
He......
".... leadeth me, O blessed thought.
O words with heav’nly comfort fraught
Whate’er I do, where’er I be
Still ’tis God’s hand that leadeth me.
He leadeth me, He leadeth me,
By His own hand He leadeth me;
His faithful foll’wer I would be,
For by His hand He leadeth me.
Sometimes ’mid scenes of deepest gloom,
Sometimes where Eden’s bowers bloom,
By waters still, o’er troubled sea,
Still ’tis His hand that leadeth me.
Lord, I would place my hand in Thine,
Nor ever murmur nor repine;
Content, whatever lot I see,
Since ’tis my God that leadeth me.
And when my task on earth is done,
When by Thy grace the vict’ry’s won,
E’en death’s cold wave I will not flee,
Since God through Jordan leadeth me."
Drifting to sleep to the sound of Your Silence and to the Waves of your mighty ocean......
I am -
Yours, b
It is Spacious. Full. Empty. Barren. Wonderful. Frightful. Real. A Gaping Hole giving us the priceless opportunity to fill it with Complete Fear or Complete Courage. It can be on the other end of the phone after a question. It can be an empty house that reminds us of our alone-ness. It can be the peaceful wonderful quiet after the storm. Maybe the end of Chaos. Maybe the beginning of a New Day. Those few seconds in the morning after turning off our alarm. Those few minutes at night before drifting off to sleep.
Silence. It is not just the absence of sound. It is the filling of space. It is the question of what you fill it with. It is what you hear when you hear nothing at all. What is it? That you hear?
I went running tonight on the beach. Barefoot. One of my favorite things to do in the world. Sunset......Passing Passer-Byes. Some were alone in their Silence. Walking possibly to "clear their heads." Some were hand in hand with their lover. Maybe mumbling. Maybe laughing. Maybe not. All were....Walking. None were......Still. None. I ran and ran and ran. Soaking in the Silence of the Waves. Watching the Life of the Sun surrender to the Calm of the Moon. As it became darker - as it became calmer - as it became silent.
I wonder - is life not so different? We walk and we journey and we run and we search for those things to fill our Space - our Silence. Why? Because often sitting with it - in it - surrounded by it....is too much to bear. It is the place we come to where we are alone with our thoughts, the sounds of reality - to be or not to be. Our thoughts can be our best friends or our worst enemies.....all dependent upon the Source. I have found that it is one of the most Beautiful places to find and to sit and to refuse - to - move - from: STILLNESS. The time of deepest change. The place of greatest revelation.
Silence. That place we all come to late at night - when the house is empty - when the Space is Great and the Quiet is ferociously Loud and
We
Hear
It
Nothing......... Haivng the choice to either fill the space with one of two things. Really. Cutting it all down.
Him or Us.
It is the place we all come to at some point in our lives when we look deep within the mirror and ask ourselves:
Who Are You? Do You Like What You See? Where Are You Going?
Maybe faced with a decision. Maybe many. And we peer deep into our own eyes into life's mirror. Making a choice - do we look away? Do we grab the Paint of Pretending lying beside of us on the counter to hide. to cover. again? Or do we stand there in our rawness and in our realness and be brave. Be Brave. It takes that. Courage.
Courage to face the reality of ourselves in the mirror. Courage to pick up the phone and make that call. Courage to ask forgiveness to forgive to change to reach out. Asking ourselves those questions....Fearing the answers. Looking deep within, often wanting to look away. We do one of two things:
Fill the Space with our Selves or His Spirit.
Sounds a bit strange to cut it down so shallowly. But there is nothing Shallow about it. We can run or we can hide or we can stand. Running entails escaping. Moving. Walking. Running......much like a jog on the beach. Movement is the greatest escape from Reality. Hiding involves Cowering. Eden's Hedge. Leaves can Cover but they cannot hide. Don't look AT me as you might see THROUGH me. And then there is the choice to Stand. Standing. Sitting. Being. STILL.
Refusing to move, refusing to run, refusing to hide. Committing to Stay.....In.....The....Space. In.......The......Silence....and:
LISTEN.
I have found that it is in that Space that Magical things can happen. It is in that Space that the Wisdom of God shouts the loudest. It is in that space that Courage is nurtured and Change is discovered. It is when we look in the mirror, past our eyes, In. To. His. that answers are found. They may not be pretty or proper or neat or tidy. They will likely be messy and sticky and hard. But The Will Be Real.
Look Deeply. What do you see? Hope. Newness. Discovery.
Touch Softly. What do you feel? Relief. Breath. Calm.
Listen Loudly. What do you hear? Love. Faith................. Crashing Waves.
I am back now. Sand covering my feet. Sweat covering my clothes. Salt covering by skin. Stillness covering my soul.
Silence Covering My Spirit - and He is there. My God. My Faith. My Hope. My Love. Respectfully accepting my invitation to peer back at me in my own mirror. Welcoming my questions. Sitting with me in my Space. That Space that so quickly changes from a place of Fear to place of Anticipation and Discovery......all because of one thing.
The One I invite to Sit With Me.
He......
".... leadeth me, O blessed thought.
O words with heav’nly comfort fraught
Whate’er I do, where’er I be
Still ’tis God’s hand that leadeth me.
He leadeth me, He leadeth me,
By His own hand He leadeth me;
His faithful foll’wer I would be,
For by His hand He leadeth me.
Sometimes ’mid scenes of deepest gloom,
Sometimes where Eden’s bowers bloom,
By waters still, o’er troubled sea,
Still ’tis His hand that leadeth me.
Lord, I would place my hand in Thine,
Nor ever murmur nor repine;
Content, whatever lot I see,
Since ’tis my God that leadeth me.
And when my task on earth is done,
When by Thy grace the vict’ry’s won,
E’en death’s cold wave I will not flee,
Since God through Jordan leadeth me."
Drifting to sleep to the sound of Your Silence and to the Waves of your mighty ocean......
I am -
Yours, b
Friday, May 1, 2009
The Look.
There are many looks in an airport. Many. The look you get when you sit down on the weight machine at the counter and hold your legs up just to see how accurate it is. The look you get when you break the hook of your sandals and have to carry them in your hand through the airport as you walk barefoot. The look you get when you are sitting outside by the curb on your luggage with your mac in your lap at "Vehicle Shuttle Number A-44" because you just can't wait until you get to the hotel to write down what's in your heart. Yeah - like now.
But THIS look. This look is the Ultimate. You know the one I'm talking about. You get off of the plane, walk past the restaurants, down the escalator, and through the doors of security....and there they stand. The Waiting. The ones who are holding Love in their hands: Flowers, Signs, Presents. They look past you. They look longingly. They look deeply. Even desperately at times. I saw it tonight. The Look.
My sandal strap broke coming off of the plane. No worries. I prefer barefoot over shoes anyday. Reach down. Pick them up and walk, unaware, to the shuttle. Barefoot. Out the doors. Down the Hallway. And I hear.
“There he is. Look, honey, it’s uncle Ray!” I see him on the other side of the wall. Trying to play hide and seek through the clear glass between them. Laughter. Sweet Laughter. His look? One of adoration. The look of "how fast can you get over here so I can give you a hug I've been storing up for weeks now - maybe months." Of course, I think of my own nieces and nephew. I smile. Look down. Look up. And....
Then I pass her. She is oblivious to all else around her except his eyes. She is searching and searching and desperately searching to see, to find, to meet his eyes. She has a look. As if in a maze, her eyes are darting to find the one pair that is the perfect pair. His. And she does. Her smile at that moment? I wouldn’t even attempt to do it justice with letters or words. I look at her. I look down, and I smile. If there is one thing I enjoy soaking in - it is the other side of love. There is a beauty of singleness. There is a bitterness. There is a sweetness. A sweetness of witnessing it as an invisible shadow on the outside looking in. Kinda like watching a movie. But its not – a movie.
And I walk on. Turning the corner. I see him. He is there neslted in a corner waiting as if a bird upon a branch perching in search of…..in search of….Her. He is cradling a cheap vase of flowers that he's obviously and proudly put together himself. Two peach roses. A little greenery. A bit of baby’s breath. And it is perfect. He is nervous. Looking down. Looking up. Looking around. Looking. In. Search. Of. Her. The Look.
And then there is me. On my way to spend a few days with the Lord. Just me and Him and the Sun and the Stars and the Look. I LOOK...... Actually at the moment, I SIT - outside by the curb on my luggage with my mac in my lap at "Vehicle Shuttle Number A-44" because I just can't wait until I get to the hotel to write down what's in my heart.
And that is?
A Look. THE Look. The Look of searching, crying, almost frantically grasping for His Eyes. In Search of Self. In Search of Him. I speak often of the things that come out of my mouth in session. Much of the time I am writing them down after they escape my lips. Why? They are not of me or from me. But they are About me - and you - and them. A few days ago it was this:
"The birthright of kinship that we were given when we were simply created by the King of the Universe and the Savior of the World gives us more worth than a lifetime of striving to prove ourselves could ever touch"
So I am - here. Now in the side room of the lobby of Quality Inn and my mind retreats back to her look. Her frantic, eye-darting, where-are-you-oh-my-love look. And I wonder.......Do I search for Him with such frenzy? Should we?
Wether it is for Him or for Something - we are all searching. These next few days....It is His Eyes. I had a friend tell me something amazing once. Life Changing for me. I asked him how he got through such difficult times? How did he keep such sanity and groundedness in the middle of a world-rocking experience. He said this:
"I Never Look Away From His Eyes."
He went on to explain that during the heartache, pain, chaos, angst, depression, Great Sadness, and despair, he would close his eyes and picture himself looking into the eyes of the Lord - refusing to look away. Distractions were not an option. Sidetracking not available. He and His Maker - His Strength - His Power. He would not look away.
So I sit practically in the dark. My room around the corner. In preparation for about 36 hours of phone-less, prayer-full, Word-filled, Spirit-led time with me and my God - and I pray that the Look in my eye in Search of the deep places of my Soul are as hungry for His Love as were those looks that I passed tonight.
Love. Adoration. Anticipation. Longing.
All of these things I pray for Father. All of these things I wish to find. In your eyes - alone. Looking at you. Looking at me. Looking ahead to what is to come. Looking. Seeing. Hoping.
As if I have entered your Holy of Holies. Humbly, I come. Humbly, I bow. Humbly, I search......for......your....eyes. Flowers in Hand, Peering behind a Glass Wall, Eye-darting desperateness -
I am,
Yours, b
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
I took a picture with my eyes.
I took a picture with my eyes today. Framed in my mind. Tucked away in my soul. It was my daddy.
Looking out of my windshield at him looking back at me with teary eyes.
"Love you Boog. More than you know........." He paused. "You're a part Of me."
He stood there with a water sprayer in his hand in preparation to wash off the dogwood blossoms from the hood of my jeep. They had fallen on it from the wind of the spring rain.
"The petals will stain if we don't get them off."
I had my hand on the handle of my open door in preparation to leave. Back to Nashville.
"I love you too daddy......You're a part of me too"
I often say that one of the best gifts my daddy gave me was his tears. One of many. Strong Men Cry. Mighty Men. Men who aren't afraid to feel. Courageous. He taught me not to fear my tears - and I don't. They come freely as of late.
I closed my door and watched him spray off the white blossoms. Giving attention to get every one - rarely giving attention to Anything except maybe where to shoot the buck or the turkey standing in front of him. Apple doesn't fall far......
I watched him in his gentle strength. He is not an overly successful business man - though he has run a business. He is not a world-renowned speaker - though he has Shepherded many churches. He is not a wealthy man -though his wisdom is among great riches. He is........a man.......of God. And in so many ways he has taught me to be a Godly woman. Failing so often along the way.
His deed was done and he looked at me through the windshield - spraying my face as close as he could between water and glass. And he smiled. And I smiled back. I brought my fingers to my lips and kissed them.....waving goodbye. He waved back. Still smiling.
I drive away knowing that there will come a day when my only memories of him will be the ones that I have taken with my eyes and framed in my mind and tucked away in my soul - much like my Heavenly Father. Not so far away.
Unable to touch Him or hug Him or even meet Him with my eyes. And I wonder if he would say much different that what I heard today. If God had a chance to speak words to my ears -
"I love you, Boog. More than you know.......
You are a part Of me."
And I am. And He is.
My daddy taught me that. A gift. One of many.
Looking out of my windshield at him looking back at me with teary eyes.
"Love you Boog. More than you know........." He paused. "You're a part Of me."
He stood there with a water sprayer in his hand in preparation to wash off the dogwood blossoms from the hood of my jeep. They had fallen on it from the wind of the spring rain.
"The petals will stain if we don't get them off."
I had my hand on the handle of my open door in preparation to leave. Back to Nashville.
"I love you too daddy......You're a part of me too"
I often say that one of the best gifts my daddy gave me was his tears. One of many. Strong Men Cry. Mighty Men. Men who aren't afraid to feel. Courageous. He taught me not to fear my tears - and I don't. They come freely as of late.
I closed my door and watched him spray off the white blossoms. Giving attention to get every one - rarely giving attention to Anything except maybe where to shoot the buck or the turkey standing in front of him. Apple doesn't fall far......
I watched him in his gentle strength. He is not an overly successful business man - though he has run a business. He is not a world-renowned speaker - though he has Shepherded many churches. He is not a wealthy man -though his wisdom is among great riches. He is........a man.......of God. And in so many ways he has taught me to be a Godly woman. Failing so often along the way.
His deed was done and he looked at me through the windshield - spraying my face as close as he could between water and glass. And he smiled. And I smiled back. I brought my fingers to my lips and kissed them.....waving goodbye. He waved back. Still smiling.
I drive away knowing that there will come a day when my only memories of him will be the ones that I have taken with my eyes and framed in my mind and tucked away in my soul - much like my Heavenly Father. Not so far away.
Unable to touch Him or hug Him or even meet Him with my eyes. And I wonder if he would say much different that what I heard today. If God had a chance to speak words to my ears -
"I love you, Boog. More than you know.......
You are a part Of me."
And I am. And He is.
My daddy taught me that. A gift. One of many.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Returning to Life
It is morning. Early morning. Dark actually. Eyes open. Unable to move. Bound by wrappings so tightly that the body seems as one piece of flesh. Senses come to life. The smell of spices, myrrh, and aloe is overtaking. Breath......Deep Breath. And then a smile. Freedom.
This is it. Words spoken for centuries coming to pass. Life.After.Death. The air smells sweeter, the senses more alive, touch is - well, odd, actually. A bit numb. Hands.....Feet.....sore and aching. But it matters not - home is a few days away.
He rises....He Rises. Resurrection. What does it mean - really? It means this: The act of rising from the dead or returning to life. The state of one who has returned to life.
There is something about Returning. Renewal. Something about Newness. Freshness. Second chances. Second lives. This meaning (among so many others) is what this day represents to me. Some say that we all have second chances.....we just have to know when to take them. The problem is - we often don't take them. Maybe because we don't think we deserve them. Maybe because we don't think it will be any different this time. Maybe because we feel - bound. Tied up. Sealed in a cave - stone in place. In bondage. But are we? Really?
If we are surrounded by pure oxygen, but we refuse to breathe - will we not suffocate?
If we are immersed in rainbows, but we never open our eyes - will we not forever live in darkness?
If we are saturated by the grace of the cross..... if we are clothed in the newness of mercy..... if we are surrounded with millions of keys, all of which fit the door to unlock a second, seventh, and seventy-seven chance, but we refuse to reach down and pick them up - will we not live in a barren frozen mummified cave forever?
He is there. I promise. p r o m i s e. He is on the other side of the door. Cave open. Stone rolled away. We have the choice: Lay as dead men....imprisoned in our own rags of self bound shame and hopelessness OR we can lean over and pick up a key, walk out of a dark cave, or take an outstretched scared hand. Sharing in His resurrection: Returning to a life of truly living. We were not created to exist. We were created to live. If we are not truly living then we are existing, and if we are only existing then we are truly dead.
It's worth it. I promise. P R O M I S E.
So today. On an Easter Sunday. May we Rise Up And.....Walk....Run...Dance. Twirling in a newness of repentance. Of all things new - new way of thinking, new way of living, new way of being. N E W.
A L L T H I N G S N E W......
So reach with me for the key. Take that first step out of the cave. The opening may be a little tricky. The light blinding at first. The other side a little scary - but you won't be walking out alone. Especially not today. Not today : )
Much Love to All -
Happy Easter.
b
This is it. Words spoken for centuries coming to pass. Life.After.Death. The air smells sweeter, the senses more alive, touch is - well, odd, actually. A bit numb. Hands.....Feet.....sore and aching. But it matters not - home is a few days away.
He rises....He Rises. Resurrection. What does it mean - really? It means this: The act of rising from the dead or returning to life. The state of one who has returned to life.
There is something about Returning. Renewal. Something about Newness. Freshness. Second chances. Second lives. This meaning (among so many others) is what this day represents to me. Some say that we all have second chances.....we just have to know when to take them. The problem is - we often don't take them. Maybe because we don't think we deserve them. Maybe because we don't think it will be any different this time. Maybe because we feel - bound. Tied up. Sealed in a cave - stone in place. In bondage. But are we? Really?
If we are surrounded by pure oxygen, but we refuse to breathe - will we not suffocate?
If we are immersed in rainbows, but we never open our eyes - will we not forever live in darkness?
If we are saturated by the grace of the cross..... if we are clothed in the newness of mercy..... if we are surrounded with millions of keys, all of which fit the door to unlock a second, seventh, and seventy-seven chance, but we refuse to reach down and pick them up - will we not live in a barren frozen mummified cave forever?
He is there. I promise. p r o m i s e. He is on the other side of the door. Cave open. Stone rolled away. We have the choice: Lay as dead men....imprisoned in our own rags of self bound shame and hopelessness OR we can lean over and pick up a key, walk out of a dark cave, or take an outstretched scared hand. Sharing in His resurrection: Returning to a life of truly living. We were not created to exist. We were created to live. If we are not truly living then we are existing, and if we are only existing then we are truly dead.
It's worth it. I promise. P R O M I S E.
So today. On an Easter Sunday. May we Rise Up And.....Walk....Run...Dance. Twirling in a newness of repentance. Of all things new - new way of thinking, new way of living, new way of being. N E W.
A L L T H I N G S N E W......
So reach with me for the key. Take that first step out of the cave. The opening may be a little tricky. The light blinding at first. The other side a little scary - but you won't be walking out alone. Especially not today. Not today : )
Much Love to All -
Happy Easter.
b
Thursday, April 9, 2009
F A L L
A nail around my neck. A bead around my wrist. A tear in my eye. A pen in my hand. I sit. Looking at a flameless fireplace - the taste of Grey on my tongue - surrounded by an empty hearth. Submerged by a chair of purple velvet... and I listen
"Love is a poor man's fool." He says. Do I believe him?
mmmmmmmmmmmmmm I think not.
What is my life should I not loose it and what is being found should I never fell lost?
And what is lost?
What is lost?
It amazes me to watch how we attempt to fill in the blanks in our lives - in the search for a significance for which we were never intended. I wonder what would happen if we just sat in our own insignificance....letting HIM BE our significance. Embracing our inadequacy instead of fighting against it. Allowing Him to finally make us whole. He Alone.
Some of the most beautiful carvings of my soul - the most painful - were created when I was lost. When I was immersed in my own insignificance, depending more on Him for my soul's value.
And slowly the light began to fade in, slowly. My spiritual eyes adjusted, slowly. And, slowly, I became found. Not because I was ever lost - not really.
Can you be lost when someone always knows where you are?
You can Feel lost - in the depths of your core you can feel lost. But are you......really? Maybe its not that we are lost - maybe it's just that we can't see we have already been found.
Maybe we are just blind.
Remove our scales, Lord - may they fall from our eyes as leaves from your Tree of Life. In the colors of Fall. By the sweetest breeze of your lips. Carried by the grandest wind.
May they fall. And may we....
Fall.
Monday, March 16, 2009
B E L I E V E
I think there is a tiny part of me who has always believed in the Easter Bunny…..and Santa Clause……and, well maybe, even the Tooth Fairy. But not really. I mean – not really the tooth fairy. I can’t speak for the other two : ) I often refer to myself as Pollyanna with sprinkles of Mary Poppins who isn’t afraid to hunt down a wild animal on a given day if the need arises. Always believing in the unbelievable and hoping for those who have none. It has caused me much pain and given me tremendous joy. Blessing and a Curse. Many clients come into the office without it – Hope. Given up…..on life, on their marriage, on their dreams, on finding the one, on having children, on being happy. It’s my job to not only believe IN them – but to hope FOR them when they can’t muster up any on their own. They say we loose hope. I disagree. I think we give it away. When holding on to hope begins to hurt us rather than help us – we loosen our grip. Blind Hope becomes False Hope, and we can’t see how anything can or will be any different.
But It Will Be. It Will Be. Different.
If we do the same things in the same ways we will get the same result. If we want something we have never had, we have to do something we have never done. We have to find a way to Change – either what we are in or who we are becoming. People have worded it in lots of different ways, but the meaning is the same. If we want something different we have to do something different. So why don’t we?
We Stop Believing In Ourselves. We Give Hope Away.
Being in Dallas this past week, I was able to spend time with the ladies who I served beside in Congo, had a wonderful meeting with one of my favorite men who survived the Rwandan genocide and is now running one of the most On-Point organizations of African reconciliation and peace building, and I re-connected with Cindy who started a safe house in Uganda housing formally abducted children.
I Feel My Heart Break a Bit.
Doing some recent research on the orphanages we visited while in Congo, I was brought back to a day…..a day…… We were there at the boys orphanage that housed many former child soldiers, street orphans, and children who had survived a horrific war. They greeted us with singing and warmth. They greeted us with homemade instruments and music. They greeted us with pain. Pain – behind those eyes. Before leaving, two of them- brothers – were going to ask me to be their “father,” wanting to say "mother" but unable to piece the words together correctly. Sitting there, we were on one side of the open-aired pavilion – they were on the other. In the traditional African way of formality, we were each asked to “give a few words.” I was so in awe of soaking them in, feeling the freshness of their heartache as if it where my own, in the “zone’ as I call it – it was now my turn. I looked up at them and they (around 25 of them) looked back at me. "Give them a word". Translator looking at me looking at them looking at me. I said this, as if not speaking for myself:
"Tell them I am sorry for their pain. Tell them that they are strong"
"Tell them that WE BELIEVE IN THEM"
He did. All was quiet. As it should be. I have realized that there are four words that hold more power than the most elloqent of Hallmark cards and all the length of Tennyson’s poetry.
I BELIEVE IN YOU
I have a secret. I can count on one hand the people who know this (and they would probably be surprised at who they are). During my “dark time” as I like to call it, I would do something kinda weird. Not that me doing something weird is actually strange : ) But it’s kinda - yeah, weird. I had just moved to Boulder, CO knowing one person. Traveled across the country in a very poor state of mind and body. I was alone. I wanted to be alone. Far away. So I would do this thing.
I would pass by the cards in Target or Walgreens, and I would read them. I would pick out the one that I thought God would give me if he were there. I would buy it and sign his name and carry it around with me. It was a desperate time and called for desperate measures. How am I able to be so vulnerable about it now? I am better : ) Looking back, it spoke to my desperate need to be encouraged. To feel loved. To somehow hear him whisper, My Daughter:
I BELIEVE IN YOU
Even when I didn’t believe in myself. It was then that I realized the power of those four words. So I take that message and I tuck it away in my heart and I come to this:
In our most desperate, hopeless, lonely times….. whether we have lost our jobs and are wondering if we can provide for our families, or we are a new mother who is about to have baby number two in the middle of chaos, or making every attempt to “hold it together” “turn it loose” or “live in the moment.” Whether we are an orphan who has nothing but the memories of brutality and a broken heart, or someone surrounded by everything they have every dreamed of.....along with a persistent and ongoing emptiness that follows them around in their Hollywood lifestyle. There are four words that he wants all of us to hang to, hold to, live on. Close your eyes. No, really. Close your eyes and Listen with your Heart. Hear Him Say.
I BELIEVE IN YOU
Weird? The weirdest. Almost as weird as buying yourself cards from God in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. But I still have them all…..and I wouldn’t give them up for the world : )
Believing – I am
His, b
But It Will Be. It Will Be. Different.
If we do the same things in the same ways we will get the same result. If we want something we have never had, we have to do something we have never done. We have to find a way to Change – either what we are in or who we are becoming. People have worded it in lots of different ways, but the meaning is the same. If we want something different we have to do something different. So why don’t we?
We Stop Believing In Ourselves. We Give Hope Away.
Being in Dallas this past week, I was able to spend time with the ladies who I served beside in Congo, had a wonderful meeting with one of my favorite men who survived the Rwandan genocide and is now running one of the most On-Point organizations of African reconciliation and peace building, and I re-connected with Cindy who started a safe house in Uganda housing formally abducted children.
I Feel My Heart Break a Bit.
Doing some recent research on the orphanages we visited while in Congo, I was brought back to a day…..a day…… We were there at the boys orphanage that housed many former child soldiers, street orphans, and children who had survived a horrific war. They greeted us with singing and warmth. They greeted us with homemade instruments and music. They greeted us with pain. Pain – behind those eyes. Before leaving, two of them- brothers – were going to ask me to be their “father,” wanting to say "mother" but unable to piece the words together correctly. Sitting there, we were on one side of the open-aired pavilion – they were on the other. In the traditional African way of formality, we were each asked to “give a few words.” I was so in awe of soaking them in, feeling the freshness of their heartache as if it where my own, in the “zone’ as I call it – it was now my turn. I looked up at them and they (around 25 of them) looked back at me. "Give them a word". Translator looking at me looking at them looking at me. I said this, as if not speaking for myself:
"Tell them I am sorry for their pain. Tell them that they are strong"
"Tell them that WE BELIEVE IN THEM"
He did. All was quiet. As it should be. I have realized that there are four words that hold more power than the most elloqent of Hallmark cards and all the length of Tennyson’s poetry.
I BELIEVE IN YOU
I have a secret. I can count on one hand the people who know this (and they would probably be surprised at who they are). During my “dark time” as I like to call it, I would do something kinda weird. Not that me doing something weird is actually strange : ) But it’s kinda - yeah, weird. I had just moved to Boulder, CO knowing one person. Traveled across the country in a very poor state of mind and body. I was alone. I wanted to be alone. Far away. So I would do this thing.
I would pass by the cards in Target or Walgreens, and I would read them. I would pick out the one that I thought God would give me if he were there. I would buy it and sign his name and carry it around with me. It was a desperate time and called for desperate measures. How am I able to be so vulnerable about it now? I am better : ) Looking back, it spoke to my desperate need to be encouraged. To feel loved. To somehow hear him whisper, My Daughter:
I BELIEVE IN YOU
Even when I didn’t believe in myself. It was then that I realized the power of those four words. So I take that message and I tuck it away in my heart and I come to this:
In our most desperate, hopeless, lonely times….. whether we have lost our jobs and are wondering if we can provide for our families, or we are a new mother who is about to have baby number two in the middle of chaos, or making every attempt to “hold it together” “turn it loose” or “live in the moment.” Whether we are an orphan who has nothing but the memories of brutality and a broken heart, or someone surrounded by everything they have every dreamed of.....along with a persistent and ongoing emptiness that follows them around in their Hollywood lifestyle. There are four words that he wants all of us to hang to, hold to, live on. Close your eyes. No, really. Close your eyes and Listen with your Heart. Hear Him Say.
I BELIEVE IN YOU
Weird? The weirdest. Almost as weird as buying yourself cards from God in the middle of the Rocky Mountains. But I still have them all…..and I wouldn’t give them up for the world : )
Believing – I am
His, b
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Embracing the Ashes...
It is Ash Wednesday. I have never celebrated Ash Wednesday. Being raised a Church of Christ girl – I never even really knew what it was. I stayed on one side of the fence and felt comfortable not knowing what was on the other. But today I am taking the time to learn….Whether you celebrate it as a religious holiday or not, its symbolism stands strong. It is a day of repentance - A day of newness - A day of change. And - yet again - it brings me to face my thoughts. Repentance….sounds like it belongs in a pew doesn’t it? But does it? What does "repentance" really mean? Prior to the Christian meaning we have inherited - the Classical Greek word "metanoia" meant something maybe a little different. It meant this: Changing one’s mind or heart about someone or something. In short – it is a molding of the heart or the mind into something different.
Powerful – don’t you think? I have found that, with myself, if I try to change my WILL before having a change of my HEART – then my actions will almost always repeat themselves. Almost always. And, in the end, I will be left disappointed in myself all over again....and again....and again. Kinda breeds a bit of shamefulness. The WILL continues to act according to its nature until the HEART is changed.
ASH WEDNESDAY: Wikipedia is an amazing animal……
“Ash Wednesday gets its name from a practice of placing ashes on the forehead of the faithful as a sign of repentance. As the priest makes the sign of the cross on the forehead of the participant he often recites: “Remember, oh man, that you are dust and to dust you shall return” Dust. Ashes. Ashes in ancient times were used as an expression of mourning and a sorrow for faults. SORROW – for faults. Godly Sorrow – often referred to as GUILT. A word we stray away from and try to avoid. It’s a shame, I think. Speaking first hand, the pain of our past choices causes us to do one of two things. We either stand or fall. Really - two choices. You see, having experienced a lot of it....God has taught me much about GUILT. In short he has taught me this:
The purpose of guilt is to change a heart and to bring us closer to the arms of God. In God's beautiful plan, he allowed us to sin - not with hopes that we would live in shame - but with longings that our hearts would be pricked, we would feel sorrow, come to him to ask forgiveness and comfort, and then to burn. BURN? Yep.Those who work in metals call it Refining. You see, the hope is that acting outside of Love would touch us deeply enough to spur a desire to be more Loving. To ask God to burn away anything that looks Loveless. But instead we run away from the essence of Love -into Darkness. Instead of drawing closer to Him to take a deeper look into finding how to be changed, we hide in the bushes. What's in the bushes? It's this great thing called Shame. Shame is basically being immersed in Guilt. It kills.
Leaving yourself in Shame can result in death to your spirit. If there's something that needs a warning label - its Shame. Its stopping in the Quicksand of Sorry and never finding the Joy on the other end. Joy? Yes sir. There is nothing better than the feeling of a 4 mile run after you have eaten four time what you should have at the dinner table - yes? Yes. Kinda like that. Guilt plus Sorrow plus Change equals finding a nestling place closer in the arms of God that you have never found before - because you have used the very thing that caused you both pain to bring you closer to His heart. Kinda like when you say something you totally regret in an argument to someone you love dearly and then you come back in True Sorrow to apologize. And then there is........The Embrace........and then there is The Smile.......and then there is The Kiss.
That, my friend - is winning. That is standing in the face of the enemy. That - is Embracing the Ashes.
Powerful – don’t you think? I have found that, with myself, if I try to change my WILL before having a change of my HEART – then my actions will almost always repeat themselves. Almost always. And, in the end, I will be left disappointed in myself all over again....and again....and again. Kinda breeds a bit of shamefulness. The WILL continues to act according to its nature until the HEART is changed.
ASH WEDNESDAY: Wikipedia is an amazing animal……
“Ash Wednesday gets its name from a practice of placing ashes on the forehead of the faithful as a sign of repentance. As the priest makes the sign of the cross on the forehead of the participant he often recites: “Remember, oh man, that you are dust and to dust you shall return” Dust. Ashes. Ashes in ancient times were used as an expression of mourning and a sorrow for faults. SORROW – for faults. Godly Sorrow – often referred to as GUILT. A word we stray away from and try to avoid. It’s a shame, I think. Speaking first hand, the pain of our past choices causes us to do one of two things. We either stand or fall. Really - two choices. You see, having experienced a lot of it....God has taught me much about GUILT. In short he has taught me this:
The purpose of guilt is to change a heart and to bring us closer to the arms of God. In God's beautiful plan, he allowed us to sin - not with hopes that we would live in shame - but with longings that our hearts would be pricked, we would feel sorrow, come to him to ask forgiveness and comfort, and then to burn. BURN? Yep.Those who work in metals call it Refining. You see, the hope is that acting outside of Love would touch us deeply enough to spur a desire to be more Loving. To ask God to burn away anything that looks Loveless. But instead we run away from the essence of Love -into Darkness. Instead of drawing closer to Him to take a deeper look into finding how to be changed, we hide in the bushes. What's in the bushes? It's this great thing called Shame. Shame is basically being immersed in Guilt. It kills.
Leaving yourself in Shame can result in death to your spirit. If there's something that needs a warning label - its Shame. Its stopping in the Quicksand of Sorry and never finding the Joy on the other end. Joy? Yes sir. There is nothing better than the feeling of a 4 mile run after you have eaten four time what you should have at the dinner table - yes? Yes. Kinda like that. Guilt plus Sorrow plus Change equals finding a nestling place closer in the arms of God that you have never found before - because you have used the very thing that caused you both pain to bring you closer to His heart. Kinda like when you say something you totally regret in an argument to someone you love dearly and then you come back in True Sorrow to apologize. And then there is........The Embrace........and then there is The Smile.......and then there is The Kiss.
That, my friend - is winning. That is standing in the face of the enemy. That - is Embracing the Ashes.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Naked Storms
The first great moment that I remember was when I was three years old– a storm – I tore my clothes and ran out in it – and I have been doing that in storms ever since”….Kahlil Gibran
Reuniting to Norah, Lost in Gibran, and cuddled up next to the fire……I sit. Loving this quote as it reminds me of my first time to see the ocean. We didn’t get out much when I was a kid - unless you count the woods behind my house and the tobacco patches in the summer. If you count that – we were out all the time : ) (I loved that about my childhood) But to see the ocean.....that was a big deal. I think I was maybe 12? Don’t know. We had taken our first big vacation. I just remember being so excited that I ran out into the ocean with my clothes on. I couldn’t wait to get out of the car – couldn’t get the door open fast enough. When it opened, I started running as fast as I could and, all of a sudden, I was waist up in salty water. Sweet Salty Water. Sweet.
Kinda like a storm – only different.
Having just come off of an incredible benefit, hearing the pain of Congo finally getting recognition on NBC, and knowing some dear brothers, Sean and David, will soon be returning to Goma within a matters of days – it causes many memories to flood back to my mind. I have been in recent contact with a great pastor there in Congo. Pastor Kivy. Wise Wise Man. He said it was good to hear from me because he had felt abandoned.
Abandoned.
Exile haunts me. I don’t mean an organization or an NGO or a non-profit. I mean the presence of Exile. The feeling – the perception – the exsistence. The word. I opened the book I was reading tonight and this is what I read,
“I am a stranger in this world. I am a stranger in my exile. There is a grim isolation and a painful loneliness, yet it makes me ever think of a magical homeland that I do not know. Exile makes me dream with phantoms of a distant land that my eyes have not seen” On the plane ride into Uganda, I picked up my bible and starting reading…..one of my favorite verses. Jeremiah 29:11 'For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” Such a common verse in common place. But my eyes went up a little higher on the page this time. To the text title…It said this “A letter to the Exiles”
It gets deeper. That same day was the first day I walked into Village of Hope Uganda – a safe house for 19 orphans. All of which had been formally abducted children, most of which had seen their parents killed, some of which were forced to kill their parents. After being individually hugged and loved by each one, we walked in the house and I saw a verse painted on the wall. Surrounded by flowers and rainbows and butterflies, it read as such,
“ For I know the plans I have for you….” Jerimiah 29:11. And you know the rest : )
Yeah – it is all around me. Those who have been forced to run from rebels and tribal wars to safety, those who have been born and raised in a displacement camp for fear of returning home, scriptures talking about hope of the homeless, forgiveness for the heartness, or even clients I see who are emotionally as lost as are those children wandering the bush of Africa.
Exile
Is it a powerful word – or is it just me?
If intimacy is the opposite of isolation and isolation at its deepest form is the death of the Spirit – then exile is just that. It is the core of isolation and the absence of intimacy – of connection – of togetherness. It is being lost - and the answer then becomes simple:
Being Found – Finding Warmth – Discovering Being Loved – Living Loved
The most precious definition of intimacy I have heard it simply this:
IN - TO - ME - SEE
Do you? See Me? Will I let you? Do I trust you? Will you love me if you do? I have learned to value this word, and come to realize that without the ability to be real about our deepest secrets and in our deepest pain with the truest loved ones – we will never be found. And if we are never found - then are we not really just…..lost? Here is the beautiful part. You ready? He Does. And Does. And Does.
He Sees – The Core – The Secrets – The Pain – and what does he do with it? He Loves. And Loves. And Loves. Wishing you to let Him love you more. Wishing for you to love yourself and to fine love in living. Does that mean that he agrees with every choice we make? Not at all – not even close. I’m sure he would love to come down and kick the tail sometimes : ) But I do know this – there is nothing that we could ever do that would cause Him to stop loving us. THAT is TRUE LOVE. Nothing that any human love can even begin to touch. And as we are loved – he wishes for us to love others. The Broken, the Bruised, The Beaten. The Orphans. The Widows. The Exiled. Those dear ones that Sean and David and Jonathan will be with soon. We love them with you. We love them through you. Love them back. So as I listen to Norah sing “You humble me, Lord.” I think….yes you do. And may we be. May we, Lord, humble our spirits before we are humbled. It's so much better doing it the first way : )
Gibran writes: “I write in verse life’s prose, and in prose life’s verse. This I am a stranger, and will remain a stranger until death snatches me away and carries me to my homeland.”
But until then – my prayer for you is to seek True Love. That we find the Strength to be Real and discover an Intimacy that defeats Isolation, and an Authenticity that defies Death. Fueling Life – Feeding Hope - Loving the loveless. Loving.
Reuniting to Norah, Lost in Gibran, and cuddled up next to the fire……I sit. Loving this quote as it reminds me of my first time to see the ocean. We didn’t get out much when I was a kid - unless you count the woods behind my house and the tobacco patches in the summer. If you count that – we were out all the time : ) (I loved that about my childhood) But to see the ocean.....that was a big deal. I think I was maybe 12? Don’t know. We had taken our first big vacation. I just remember being so excited that I ran out into the ocean with my clothes on. I couldn’t wait to get out of the car – couldn’t get the door open fast enough. When it opened, I started running as fast as I could and, all of a sudden, I was waist up in salty water. Sweet Salty Water. Sweet.
Kinda like a storm – only different.
Having just come off of an incredible benefit, hearing the pain of Congo finally getting recognition on NBC, and knowing some dear brothers, Sean and David, will soon be returning to Goma within a matters of days – it causes many memories to flood back to my mind. I have been in recent contact with a great pastor there in Congo. Pastor Kivy. Wise Wise Man. He said it was good to hear from me because he had felt abandoned.
Abandoned.
Exile haunts me. I don’t mean an organization or an NGO or a non-profit. I mean the presence of Exile. The feeling – the perception – the exsistence. The word. I opened the book I was reading tonight and this is what I read,
“I am a stranger in this world. I am a stranger in my exile. There is a grim isolation and a painful loneliness, yet it makes me ever think of a magical homeland that I do not know. Exile makes me dream with phantoms of a distant land that my eyes have not seen” On the plane ride into Uganda, I picked up my bible and starting reading…..one of my favorite verses. Jeremiah 29:11 'For I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” Such a common verse in common place. But my eyes went up a little higher on the page this time. To the text title…It said this “A letter to the Exiles”
It gets deeper. That same day was the first day I walked into Village of Hope Uganda – a safe house for 19 orphans. All of which had been formally abducted children, most of which had seen their parents killed, some of which were forced to kill their parents. After being individually hugged and loved by each one, we walked in the house and I saw a verse painted on the wall. Surrounded by flowers and rainbows and butterflies, it read as such,
“ For I know the plans I have for you….” Jerimiah 29:11. And you know the rest : )
Yeah – it is all around me. Those who have been forced to run from rebels and tribal wars to safety, those who have been born and raised in a displacement camp for fear of returning home, scriptures talking about hope of the homeless, forgiveness for the heartness, or even clients I see who are emotionally as lost as are those children wandering the bush of Africa.
Exile
Is it a powerful word – or is it just me?
If intimacy is the opposite of isolation and isolation at its deepest form is the death of the Spirit – then exile is just that. It is the core of isolation and the absence of intimacy – of connection – of togetherness. It is being lost - and the answer then becomes simple:
Being Found – Finding Warmth – Discovering Being Loved – Living Loved
The most precious definition of intimacy I have heard it simply this:
IN - TO - ME - SEE
Do you? See Me? Will I let you? Do I trust you? Will you love me if you do? I have learned to value this word, and come to realize that without the ability to be real about our deepest secrets and in our deepest pain with the truest loved ones – we will never be found. And if we are never found - then are we not really just…..lost? Here is the beautiful part. You ready? He Does. And Does. And Does.
He Sees – The Core – The Secrets – The Pain – and what does he do with it? He Loves. And Loves. And Loves. Wishing you to let Him love you more. Wishing for you to love yourself and to fine love in living. Does that mean that he agrees with every choice we make? Not at all – not even close. I’m sure he would love to come down and kick the tail sometimes : ) But I do know this – there is nothing that we could ever do that would cause Him to stop loving us. THAT is TRUE LOVE. Nothing that any human love can even begin to touch. And as we are loved – he wishes for us to love others. The Broken, the Bruised, The Beaten. The Orphans. The Widows. The Exiled. Those dear ones that Sean and David and Jonathan will be with soon. We love them with you. We love them through you. Love them back. So as I listen to Norah sing “You humble me, Lord.” I think….yes you do. And may we be. May we, Lord, humble our spirits before we are humbled. It's so much better doing it the first way : )
Gibran writes: “I write in verse life’s prose, and in prose life’s verse. This I am a stranger, and will remain a stranger until death snatches me away and carries me to my homeland.”
But until then – my prayer for you is to seek True Love. That we find the Strength to be Real and discover an Intimacy that defeats Isolation, and an Authenticity that defies Death. Fueling Life – Feeding Hope - Loving the loveless. Loving.
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