Let Earth Receive Her King

The clock is ticking its measured cadence. And the tinsel dances softly: the house is falling asleep.  We sang songs tonight about His coming.  About the stillness, the quiet, the divine, the holy, no noise He makes.  But my heart isn't quiet, it doesn't feel holy or sacred, my soul is restless, and the babies cry.

And we watch the same clip for the third time and I'm starting to wonder what He is trying to say to me.  Three times He has to tell me, I must be missing it. I stop singing and start listening, trying to take it all in, trying to breathe it in, to feel the holiness in the air, I feel like I'm grasping at straws. And then it comes like a punch in the face:
"Joy to the world, the Lord is come.
LET EARTH RECEIVE HER KING,
let every heart prepare Him room."

Receive.  Receive. That word that makes my chest tighten, that makes my heart beat faster, that makes my fists clench.  The word that sends me into frantic, restless furry attempting to run away and hide. I feel my body's alarms going off, like lasers and lock,s millions of them closing me off making me incapable of receiving.  Tense in fear, fear of not being enough, fear of being disappointed, fear of always having the almost and never the real deal... I want to receive, I want to take the risk but the fear is so strong.

And then, then I feel Him soften me.  He reminds me of how He came as a baby. And I reflect on my experience the day before of walking into an old childhood friend's house and being handed a new baby.  And I remember opening my hands and receiving him, of snuggling him close, looking at his tiny little eyes and fingers.  I remember snuggling him any way he wanted it didn't even matter.  And my arms grew tired but I rocked him and he snuggled right in. And I reflect on the weird experience of shopping with him and the ease and openness with which strangers just talk to him and asked about him. And I'm hit with a tiny morsel of understanding. And I realize how the baby Christ child strips us of our fears, of our intimidation and aids us in receiving Him.

And I feel my fists unclenching and my arms unfolding in a position appropriate to receive Him, I want to snuggle him in close and rock him any way He wants until my arms are so beyond tired.  And I think of the chaos and the mess of the world and I think of the ease we respond to babies and I am awestruck by the risk of this miracle again.

And I feel a little braver, and a little stiller, because God isn't asking me to be that vulnerable.  He isn't asking me to give up heaven and be reduced to the size of an infant, He is asking me to receive Him.  And isn't that what we've been doing all along in this advent season? Preparing Him room, getting ready for His arrival.  Making more space so that the King of Heaven can break into our hurts, our inadequacies, our questions, our mess of lives? Because if you ask me the earth was probably just as messy and chaotic, and Mary probably screamed when she birthed Him, and regardless of what we sing in "Away in a Manger" Jesus probably did cry and scream and maybe even have the colic that makes you stay up all night...and Mary and Joseph probably had fights, and worried about the future and the mess of it all....

and yet, everything changed.

And yes people still scream when pushing out babies, and people fight, and have affairs, and sometimes it seems like there is no peace on earth.

And yet everything has changed.

Because faithfully everything terrible is coming untrue, and where there was no hope there can be hope, and where there was no peace there can be peace, and where there was fear there can be love and truth....but only has much as I/we choose to receive it....

Lord, help me to receive you, break into my castle of alarms and locks and destroy my patterns of rejection.  Help me to receive you and all that you give me, regardless of the risk....may I open my arms to all that you have for me, but mostly, Lord, may I open my arms to You...that human and divine parcel of joy and love.

 And the clock strikes twelve and the music plays and you enter in and my heart feels fuller and more alive...cause You're here, and we've been waiting for You!

And this is my attempt, my way of shouting it on the mountain top that Christ is born....let earth receive Her king!

The 3rd "Wednesday" of Advent

I came here yesterday and started writing.  My thoughts just feel so disorganized and unrelated, but I know they are intrinsically connected, I just haven't made the connection yet.  So here we go again. I'll sit, I'll try, I'll see what comes out.

I haven't gotten around to reading my liturgy yet, and at church we listened to children belt out their thanks to God, and drum their drums so we didn't light a candle...with all that being said, maybe the candle in my heart should be lit for grace, but instead I light it for love. 

Not for the skipping around the room, butterflies in your stomach kind of love, but for the deep rooted love that somehow continues to keep on loving in the face of the chaos and mess of this world.  The kind of love that came in all swaddled up in cloths, the kind of love that no one minus a little stable seemed to have room for.  The kind of love that chose to leave the comfort of heaven, to leave the comfort of the womb and break into our messy, cold and unwelcoming earth. The love that offers me grace upon grace.  That calls me back every time I run away.  The love that makes me lie down, it makes me be still. Its the love that changes everything. It changes all of my paradigms, all of my systems, all of my natural inclinations.  It changes me...but only as much as I will receive it. Like water slowly eroding the rough edges of a rock.

I've had some funny encounters with the little drummer boy song this year.  To be honest I've never really given much thought to the lyrics.  So one evening while baking cookies a friend and I paraded and danced around the house with marching wooden spoons in hand...only to be caught by some friends walking in at the front door...so much laughter, it was wonderful.  And then this past Sunday at church the service started off in the dark to the drummer boy. A group of boys dressed in black just drummed their hearts out.  And as the drumming built the lyrics appeared on the screen...."I have no gift to offer him...parumpapapum, that's fit to give a king parumpapapum".  And slowly the tears fill my eyes. And the desire to give Him something in return for His unfailing love and all that He has given me is so strong. But even stronger is the realization that I have nothing to give Him. And an overwhelming sadness mixed with joy fills my heart...because all is grace.  I am deeply indebted to Him and feel so completely and utterly unworthy.  I don't even want to make eye contact because how I can I ever repay such generosity and grace. "But I have nothing to give you" I mutter. and He laughs at me and says "I know, let's dance". And my mind struggles to comprehend this kind of love, it feels too good to be true.  And I feel myself receive more of Him and more of His love as I acknowledge once again that all is grace.  And I reflect on my previous experience of parading around the house in giggles, wooden spoons held high in the air. And my heart is full because it feels that thanksgiving and dancing is the only appropriate response to this kind of love.

And so I pray to be overwhelmed once again by His love, that is so reckless and insistent and I pray that He would grant us the grace to receive more of Him this Christmas season. Let love break in.

Second Advent: Joy

When I decided to write about advent this season I thought I would feel more inspired than I do.  Sitting here this morning is more of an act discipline than of inspiration.  But I'm here, and yes, its Thursday--much closer to the third Sunday of advent than the second. But I'm here. Somehow I made it.

In church we lit the candle for love, in my liturgy I read about hope, and in my heart I lit the candle for Joy. 

I recently read a book (1000 Gifts by Ann Voskamp) that is teaching me to change my thinking.  It's about thankfulness. In response to the book I've set out making a list of 1000 things I'm thankful for.  Time is really important to me, thus my list has become a collection of moments.  Moments that I've been having for years, I was just never awake to them before.

But like every other person to walk this earth I still have moments filled with anxiety, worry and fear. For some reason the last week and half has felt fuller of the poison than of the grace.  And then yesterday, when my mind was going a million miles a minute listening to the lies, I hear His strong quiet voice whisper: "count with me, lets count" and so we begin: "I'm thankful for the droplets of rain on the trees, I'm thankful for fresh air, for coffee with extra shots in it, for that grumpy man who comes into my work who I crack a smile out of after some sarcastic banter..." and slowly the joy begins to build. And once again I'm cloaked in His grace. And the more I count the easier it gets and the truer His faithful love feels.

count with me, lets count....

1st Sunday of Advent: Peace

Yesterday was one of those perfect days where time just seems to stand still.  I marvel at the irony of how quickly our time fills up as we enter the season of advent, the season of making room, of getting ready, of preparing the way for the Christ Child. 

 It frustrates me to no end that there is no "very official advent candle order" list. It seems like each person has their own personal order and each year it changes and each church lights each candle to represent a different theme at a different time.  People don't even seem to use the same four themes.  Quite frankly I wish there was one right order that was universal.  So at church we lit the candle for hope, while we learned about love and this morning the liturgy I read was about peace.  And as I reflect on my perfect first Sunday of advent I think that peace sums it up perfectly.

In the morning we celebrated communion representing peace with Christ and peace with each other. The afternoon was spent in the unhurried trance of decorating the Christmas tree, icing cookies, reconciling with a friend, working on a puzzle, drawing names for a gift exchange and all the laughter of good friends who have become family. And quietly, all bundled up in blankets, sipping hot tea Linus reminds us what Christmas is all about..."Peace on Earth".  That wonderful mystery peace that changed everything. That now we are no longer foreigners and strangers, but adopted children into the family of God, which is an invitation for all people everywhere.  That now we no longer have to live in isolation or alone-ness, but now through Christ, who is our peace, we are made alive in the family of God....together.  I feel an overwhelming sense of joy as I taste the peace Christ offers me. 

He is my peace. He is your peace. He is our peace. And may we be filled with peace of Christ which surpasses all of our understanding.

All is Grace

"All is grace" I repeat this often  trying to instill its meaning and truth into the deepest places of my soul.  "All is grace. Today I will receive God and what He gives.  And I will do it with an attitude of gratitude because I am a partaker in the kingdom of God". This is my anthem, and I chant it often. 

As I look up from my kitchen table toda,y I become keenly aware of my  maple's emptiness (it really doesn't belong to me, but it my heart it does)--I'm fairly certain that every single leaf has fallen off.  All that's left are the stark branches mirroring my soul. 

Each year God picks a theme for my life, this year's: vulnerability and availability.  Its been about inner honesty, making space, learning to live outside of time within it, its about slowing down and becoming aware, about rawness, about the risky business of letting people in.  Its been a long season of emptying, like watching the water go down the drain. And I feel a mixture of pride and exhaustion as I look across my year. 

It feels somewhat more sacred this year as we enter the season of advent. As we begin to make more room, as we begin to prepare for the Christ child. In many ways I feel that my whole year has been spent in advent: preparing to and receiving more and more of Christ, making more room for Him.  I feel surprised at the way thankfulness seems to carve out more space for Him.  My logical brain just assumed that thankfulness would fill up the space, not make more room. And so I am filled with hope and anticipation for a deeper filling as we enter the new year. But in the same breath I am keenly aware of the daunting December, the massive exodus.  I know that as I enter the final month of my theme, I will be pushed to my extremes...in fact I already feel that way, more raw and vulnerable,with the terrible call to be vulnerable in the face of hurt, apparent injustice, abandonment, betrayal, but also in the face of all the little daily hiccups of life which perhaps sting more than the major hurts.  And some days I don't feel so brave. And so I pray to be reminded...

That All is grace and today, today I will receive God and what He a lots for me this day... and I will give thanks, because it is good and He is good. 

Enchanted

Just a poem today team...I'll let it speak for itself:

You call me apart, and You call me Yours.
In Your presence is fullness of joy!

You peel back my layers like an onion.
I watch, numb, as Your tears fall.

You wash me like the rug, pulling my stains out...
Faithfully, steadily, completely unconcerned with time.

You're making me new
You're healing my broken places
You're calling me out of death and into life.

My soul is starting to respond,
I feel it behind my eyes,
In the deep corners of my soul.
You're breathing life, hope and joy into my towers of despair.

Enchanted.

Acedia: "re-awaken my soul by the grace of Your love"

I'm numb. Acedia is eating me alive. I allow the hot flow of water to fall across my body.  Prayer candles are lit begging for answers, I swaddle myself in a cocoon of blankets...but still the tears won't come.  Acedia is eating me alive.

I feel nothing, no pain, no joy, just indifferent.  I feel uncomfortable and out of place in my own skin. Me the girl who cares about every single freaking little thing, who has an opinion or a feeling towards every idea under the sun, doesn't care.

My soul feels dead, white, empty. My wounds seem to grow more and more vast each moment of my life. How is there a balm to heal all this pain? How is there a love so faithful to dispel all this fear?

I attempt to climb out of my pit, I would rather feel pain than nothing, but I only slide back down, down further than I was before.

Silently You request me to lie still.  You lead me to quiet waters, and make me rest. With Your eyes you tell me to stop trying, and to lay there in all of my brokenness and wounds, just lay there. My eyes plead at You to rescue me, to not leave me here, my fears are raging full force and my voice seems to be broken, my eyes are all I have.  Rescue me.

Quietly you lay down beside me. We stare at the stars and the vastness of all that You've made. "let me tell you, little one, the story of how I made the earth and everything in it, just listen and stare".

And so I listen, I listen like a child, with all the wonder of the story, all the silly things that were made, and all the seriousness of humanity. You will be faithful to me, in this moment I am sure of that. 

"Re-awaken my soul by the grace of Your love".

Soul Excavation

Slow mornings are my favorite.  And even better are the ones where you wake up to find the dishes washed.  The shower seemed warmer, my coffee tastes better, my soul is quiet and still. Rest. 

Brokenness.  I feel completely undone, unwound, like my skin has been cut open and my insides are hanging out for all to see. This season I'm in, this season of soul excavation is thoroughly uncomfortable.  Uncomfortable but necessary.  Worst! But somehow, somehow in the chaos and the dust of this excavation my bones are being breathed back to life in a newer deeper way. And I know, deep down somewhere, I know this is good and what He is doing is good.

You sift me gently.
Tossing me and my life back and forth, back and forth
emerging the truer pieces of my soul.

Fears, unanswered questions, pride, vain, self-seeking
all roar their voices in full force.

I seek to bury them in an attempt to silence them.
You still me and tell me to wait as you separate the gold from the dross.

My soul says hide, you whisper be found.
My soul says lie and believe lies, you respond: the truth sets you free.
My soul says run away, you say stay.

You're excavating my soul and I'm terrified by what You'll find.

Excavation.

Expired flowers in a beautiful vase

I love fresh cut flowers. Especially when they are in my beautiful Kinantu vase on a clean table.  Sometimes I feel like this completely contradicts everything about me, in the sense that generally I like living things better than dead things.  But I love fresh cut flowers.

The flowers on my table are not fresh cut...they are probably about three weeks old, they're dying, if not completely dead.  I didn't take care of them, I don't think I even changed the water once.  And yet, yesterday morning I noticed that among the dead flowers, that desperately need to be thrown out, there was one little bud just starting to open. How? I've done nothing, everything around it is dead, the water hasn't been changed, there might not even be water in the vase for all I know.  And yet life is springing forth, delighting me. In fact it almost delights me more because it seems like a miracle, and I sit in awe.

Sometimes my life feels like expired flowers in a beautiful vase. Sometimes I don't take care of my soul, I neglect to bring it to the living water, and yet still I find that God is working, working miracles where I don't see or expect, and I sit in awe at what God is doing and what He can do. This morning I'm struck by his faithful, steadfast miracle work, even when I am neglectful. God, help me to be thankful...

Conversion

The leaves are falling off the trees. I like it.  It's time.  Sometimes in the midst of the summer fling I forget how much I love the quiet, unhurried routine of fall. It slows me down so I can breathe, so I can process. 

I like to sit on my deck and drink coffee and stare. My wonderful, ugly yellow MCC chair is positioned carefully in front of a beautiful maple.  I've watched it through a full year of season now.  Slowly its leaves are changing colour and falling quietly to the ground.  I can't help but feel the correlation to my own life.  Fall is about letting go, purging life, slowing down, getting ready for the long winter so that when spring comes the new growth can come. 

I'm reflecting through my life, as if carefully examining each leaf, barely having the courage to allow it to change colour, let alone allow it to fall to the ground and decay into the earth.  He's changing me, changing the patterns of my life, changing the movement of my soul.  Fear calls me to cling to my leaves and not allow them to fall, but Christ calls me to let them go, to let them fall to the earth and nourish my soul.  To make room for the new growth that will come...eventually. So silently, in the deep corners of my soul, with tears moving down my cheeks I open my clenched fists and say yes...conversion.

Silently you move me
You shift my soul to its proper place in one swift move...
like a mother with her child.

Plagued by fears without and evils within
firmly and quietly i hear you among the reeds
and eventually I see and feel your large strong hand...
i don't feel so confused any more.

Lord, help me to receive
to receive the gifts I don't understand, the unfinished paintings
let me receive them with joy and not disdain.

Let me carefully unwrap each moment
let me savour it the way you invite me to.

Teach me, oh Holy God, how to live in your unhurried sense of time.
Grant me grace as I explore you and others deeper...

conversion.

Lord, help me to receive

 I don't remember the last time I woke up to that sound, that smell.  You know, the one that makes everything feel fresh, and clean, as if the whole world is being made new. You know, rain. I don't remember the last time it rained.

This week my soul rained too. I cried my eyes out.  Not just a few tears, but the full deal.  The kind of crying that makes your eyes puffy...even the next day! It's been a long time since I've had a cry like that.  I'm thinking maybe the beginning of April. 

I don't like crying, it feels uncomfortable and messy.  People look at you with pity, with concern speculating at the cause. Its just plain awkward. But God has been teaching me about my attitude/spirit of rejection these past seven months, trying to call me out of it and into a attitude/spirit of receiving....it pretty much kills me.  My pride has to die, my rights have to die, my will has to die, my "just" bitterness and hurt has to die. But I'm starting to see when I fight less and receive more, I gain freedom, life, peace, and stillness.

I'm starting to realize that I've been fighting the rainy season of my life. Because sometimes, actually probably most of the time, life is seasonal, only we suck at realizing it and embracing it.

And so this morning I feel encouraged by the rain, in a quie,t still kind of way....I can feel the growth steeping in my soul, the change that is coming, the new life that is about to be birthed, the new ways of seeing and living, just like the trees that somehow appear greener with more buds, even after one rain. 

Lord, help me to receive...

Fear...you sneaky bastard

Honestly, I thought by now I would have written billions of entries as I supposedly have more free time than I did in the past...not true...not sure where the time goes. Regardless, I'm here today--writing.  In fact, I have probably written more, poetry wise, in the last few months than I have in my whole life, but somehow it never makes it to the computer.

Okay, I'm just going to cut to the chase.  I've been thinking a lot lately about waiting.  In fact when I was in Mexico I ended up reading a whole book about it by Sue Monk Kidd.  I've also been thinking about fear and how it completely paralyzes me sometimes. How are these things connected? Just hang in there, let me get my thoughts out.

Last night I woke up just before 4am and didn't fall back to sleep until sometime after 4:53am (specific I know, that's the last time I saw the clock). Generally I wake up at least once in the night, but lately I just fall right back to sleep. NOT the case last night.  For the first twenty minutes or so, I promptly attempted to solve all of the problems in my life, those around me and the world.  I almost got up and painted, I even contemplated making coffee and sitting on the deck until the sun came up. But something made me stay. Eventually at some point the thought entered my brain that maybe I wasn't awake to solve all the world's problems, or to paint, or read, but that maybe God wanted me to pray, or learn something.  As I began to quiet my mind and make room to listen to Him.  I asked Him why I was awake and who needed prayer....Got to love the assumptions.  Instead, He said, "I want you to just lay still and wait".  Are you freaking kidding me!!! I couldn't learn how to wait and be still during the day hours, no it has to be at 4:31am! He didn't really say much else other than "shhhhh". Eventually I fell asleep, my soul quiet and calm. 

It wasn't until this morning that I began to put the connections together.  As I was sitting on the deck drinking coffee I read this, from Come Away My Beloved: "Do not curb the impulses of the Spirit within you, nor refuse to allow Me the freedom to manifest Myself through you by means of gifts.  You may resist Me because you feel unworthy or unready to be used.  This is a delusion of the mind.  I do not use you when you feel prepared, but when I need you and you are yielded."

Lately I've been feeling plagued by fears.  At times they immobilize me from using my gifts, I get stuck and I can't move.  I constantly feel unworthy and unprepared and not knowledgeable enough.  But here is where the waiting comes in.  In the waiting we learn to yield, to surrender.  And it is as we surrender that God can do His most holy and miraculous work. Because the work is no longer contingent on our gifts, our worth, or our knowledge, rather, it is contingent on the power of God and the love of His Spirit.  So maybe instead of using all of my energy to become better at things or hone my gifts more, I need to spend more time waiting and yielding to God, so that His kingdom can come in more. And it is as I yield and wait that my fears vanish and I become more okay with the fact that I'm not even close to enough and never will be.  Therefore, I can take risks because regardless of the outcomes I know that He will always relentlessly pursue me until He finds me, recklessly untangled all of the lies that surround my mind, and patiently and continuously invite me into rest and safety with Him.

That being said, here is a poem I wrote about fear.  Please read it with loving ears:

FEAR
Fear...how it destroys
beckoning in with its flashy white smile
how easy it is to believe your carefully crafted statements
but you only bring destruction.

Fear...you limit me
you clip my wings so I can't fly
and I let you....willingly, I let you

Love come...come heal my wounded wings
Give me flying lessons that I may soar with no limit
that I may transcend all that my eyes see

Fear...you sneaky bastard...yes that is exactly what you are
full of half truths and twisted words
nothing half is ever whole

Love come.... make the half places whole
wash them, heal them
bring us into truth, bring us into the light
bring us recklessly and thoroughly out of fear and into you

Fear...you tricky illusion of control
there is no victory for you
For I am my beloved's and He is mine
And He is faithful, yes always faithful
to come and find me and bring me back to him,
away and out of your entangling, immobilizing lies

And where the spirit of the Lord is there is freedom.

The Mr. Potato Head Syndrome

This morning was one of those days where nothing goes as planned.  To be honest not many days in my life go how I plan, but today was different.  A day off, how nice, how refreshing.  Days off seem to be far and few between for me, so I treat them with extra care.  Generally they involve lots of coffee, nature, reading and quality time with friends. 

This morning I woke up, after a pile of vivid dreams, at 7am to God saying: "get up and pray!"  To which I responded: "now?!? are you kidding me, its my day off!"  "Get up and pray!" "fine".  Now most of you know that I love to pray, and that I love to share my prophetic and intercessory gifting with others, in fact it is one of the main ways I show and share my love.  And if you ever want prayer just give me a call or stop by cause I will pray for you anytime, anywhere.  But it is a totally different thing to be woken up to pray for people (who aren't there) that  I don't feel like loving on a good day let alone at 7am on my day off.   Anyway, so I prayed ,fortunately it was repeat -after- me prayer and I crawled back into bed and fell back asleep.

Then I awoke suddenly to what sounded like someone power washing the side of our house, which made me jump out of bed because my window was wide open. Thankfully no one was power washing and I have no idea what the sound was.  As I crawled back into bed and tried to fall back to sleep God showed me a picture of myself:

I was like a Mr. Potato Head with all of the eyes, ears, mouth, nose, arms, tongue, feet shoved on the inside.  As God opened up the back he stated: "Jenny, why are your eyes, ears, mouth, nose, tongue and hands in here...its not where they belong, they belong on the outside!" "I don't know", I replied.  "Jenny, your eyes are not suppose to be focused inward, they are supposed to be focused outward on me.  Your ears were not made just to hear the sound of your own voice, but to listen to me and to others.  Your mouth was made to speak my truth, not to hoard my truth to yourself.  Your hands were meant to share and care.  And your nose, well frankly, no one's insides smell good, so put it on the outside and smell the flowers!" Talk about a reality check, a way to refocus the day and start again with a new attitude.

The truth is we are like Mr. Potato Head we can choose to put our eyes, ears, mouth, nose, hands, feet wherever we want, we can put them inside ourselves, or in places they aren't suppose to be, or we can choose to put them where they belong, in their proper spots.  But the truth is the choice is ours to make.  We can choose to smell our insides or we can choose to smell the flowers! May you choose well today.