breaks...

It feels odd to be showing up here.  I've been writing so much on my year prayer challenge that it almost feels redundant or excessive to be over here. But I'm here.  And these words they're not fully formed, and I'm not really sure of my own conclusions.

But I'm here to write. I'm here to work it out.

Recently I've become an avid player of "four pictures one word".  I'm not sure if any of you play it?  But its like this game was made for my brain.  I track it.  I get it. 
Not too long ago, the word was "break" and the four pictures were seemingly, completely unconnected.  And it got my engine of a brain started thinking about the word "break" and the seemingly paradoxical meanings of it. 

On the one hand its a word of destruction.  Something beautiful and fragile becoming irreparably destroyed.  If you need a break from something it generally implies you've become frustrated or irritated to the point where you need space from the task or person. Breaks can be temporary of long term.

On the other hand its a word of relief.  We have spring break, reading break, Christmas break, summer break, all refreshing moments of freedom and relief from our routine.  At work you get a break, a small portion of time to do with as you please, put your feet up, have a snack.  And if we didn't have breaks in cars...we'll let's just say it wouldn't be the best.

 Where's the common ground? And what does it all mean?

And I can't help but think about kitkat bars..."break me off a piece of that..."
And I realize that when you share your chocolate it costs you something, something of value, something you want, something you enjoy, but it offers a gift, a refreshment to another, relief from their hunger. Sacrifice for the one and abundance for the other.  And maybe the meanings meet in the middle of a kitkat bar, or maybe they don't.  But what I do know is that breaks are important and necessary, whether chosen or not. They help to us refocus, to regain our energy, to brainstorm more creatively, to sleep so that we can get back in the game with new wisdom, energy, purpose and strength.

I'll turn heartbreak valley into Acres of Hope

So today, today was suppose to just be a nice day shopping in the sun with a good friend.  And then, then we make that stop for coffee...something wonderful, like a Mocha with lots of whip cream. And there on the TV screen is breaking news of bombs at the Boston marathon.  And my heart begins to break, and the tears begin to pool.  And I start to wonder where the good is on this earth.  The sunny sky gets overtaken by a rainstorm, echoing my insides. And it feels so fitting that the water would fall from the sky because tears need to be shed for the tragedy of today.

And its June 1985 and my mama, she writes about how there were bombs on planes and hostages in Lebanon.  And I think about how this world really hasn't changed that much.  And that wonderful mother of mine, she wrote her prayer for me that day: "I pray that you will still find and see the beauty in your world".  Those words echoed loud in my mind. And so I bought cupcakes.  The wonderful fancy kind, from a cupcake shop, because there is still beauty on this earth and there is still hope.  Because God, he can just turn heartbreak valley into acres of hope. 

oh this wonderful time after Easter

Oh this first week after Easter.  Lent went by more smoothly than most.  And then came this wonderful time after Easter.  Maybe I had too high of expectations for what to expect in the new resurrected life? Or maybe this is how it is every year I just haven`t paid as much attention to the seasons of my soul.  But this transition.  This transition from cocoon to butterfly...not so easy.  There are moments of extreme beauty and freedom mingled right in there with moments of feeling more inadequate than I`ve felt in years.

I find myself reverting back to thought patterns from before lent.  But wasn`t lent suppose to be 40 days of making a new habit?  40 days of making more room for Christ so that he can live louder in my life?

And yet, things did change. And probably a lot more than I`m aware. 

I`m looking at my trees this morning and I notice how much change has taken place in such a short amount of time. Even the grass seems to be getting out of control. And I reflect on God`s wonder growing recipe to make things grow fast: lots of rain, lots of sun, some more rain, some more sun, then more rain...and I`m assuming there will be more sun.  And I think about the parallels for my soul, and I am more at ease with His process in me. And I remind myself if he is this faithful with trees, how faithful will he be with my soul?

So I eat more, and sleep more; like a new baby on a steep learning curve.  And I rest in the new growth and I adjust my life, and allow myself the to ride out the swells and calm of this life because his steadfast love is written everywhere.

Pick up your mat and walk

So the sun keeps on shinning and I can't even believe its radiance.  The warmth encircling and beckoning, inviting us into its healing presence.  And I feel warmed all over, even in the deepest parts of me. 

And the Holy week is here.  That hallowed week.  And the 40 days, the days that at first seemed like an eternity, are coming to their close.  And part of me is so ready to burst into the new life, to let Christ be risen in my life in places where I've never let him live, and the other part of me clings to the safety of this cocoon, to the safety of this exile.

As I sit in my chair, with my candles lit, drinking my coffee and soaking up the warm, life-giving rays, I hear the phrase: "pick up your mat and walk". And it echos over and over in the caves of my heart.

And I think about how sometimes we prefer the comfort and the known of being wounded.  How we get our identity from our pain and so when Christ comes and invites us to "get up and walk", we get scared, we become afraid. We become afraid because everything is about to change.  And the unknown, no matter how wonderful, feels scary because we seem to lose a sense of our barrings a sense of ourselves. 

"I must become less, and Christ must become greater".

And so we enter our own kind of deaths, we let go of the control.  We die to self so that Christ can live more. And then, then we pick up or mat and we walk.  And we walk even when we don't know the way, because he does.  The one who walked into the pit of hell, who stared death right in the eyes and said "enough". "enough death, you don't have the victory here". And he marched right back to this messy broken earth, to this land of the living, where he breathed his life all over us.

And so when the one you are walking with has done all that, you really don't have anything to fear besides him. 

So today, I pick up my mat and I take his hand, which is outstretched to me, and I walk.  I walk with him, knowing that when he calls me out of death and into life, into healing, into freedom, I can go with boldness and confidence. 

Take his hand, you won't be disappointed.

Because it's that day...

Because it's that day.  The day you wake up for the third time in a row from bad dreams.  The day when every other woman you see looks effortlessly more beautiful than you on the inside and out.  The day when your soul is weary all the way straight down to the bones.  The day you woke up at 4:02am and breathed in the equinox because transformation and rebirth are on their way.  And you wake up and it feels like fall outside...but it's the first day of spring.  And that's how my soul feels. 

And then quietly His voice speaks.  And it's not in the rain or the wind or a profound moment.  But that quiet moment at work in the midst of it all.

And I hear Christ say:

"Today is not just another day to get through.  Today is a day to unfold.  To unpack. To relish in.  To delight in. Today is a day to walk in deeper healing, in newness, in life.  So be on the lookout for My workings and get on board.  All is grace.  All is above and beyond.  Don't let your mind be bogged down on worries.  Step out of that.  Step out of that and into me.  Let me take you deeper.  Let me unfold you.  Let me heal you, make you new.  And I haven't forgotten about you.  I hear you.  I see you.  Rest your heart in me and you will know no fear.  You will only know light, love, life and truth.  Fall back into me for I am more than enough.  And today, today little one, is not just another day to get through.  Today is a gift.  Open it!"

"When it comes to quality, we dig deep"

Oh, have I been meaning to get here!  The house is a mess, the dishes pile higher and higher, the only moment to finish laundry was around 1:30am, my bed hasn't been made in days. And I beg the world to slow down, and it only seems to speed up, and it kind of literally did when we lost that hour. 

But this week, this week we're going to slow it down a little, we're gonna live a little more outside of time, live a little more in the moments and less bound by the ticking of the clock.

March is a pretty big month for me.  Two extremely significant things occur.  One: Lent, Palm Sunday, Easter.  In some ways it almost feels bigger to me than Christmas.  We spend more time getting ready, making room in our hearts, giving things up to enter into Christ's sufferings, preparing our hearts to be warmed by the amazing love and unfailing grace.  Two: my birthday falls the day before Palm Sunday.  As a highly reflective and contemplative person this makes for an extremely intense month of self evaluation and expectation. I reflect over the past year and prepare for the next year of life. Let's just say its a LOT! and leave it at that. 

I appreciate symbols, art, and stories because they seem to be able to communicate abstract concepts that our minds are conscious of but have difficulty grasping. 

At various times in my life I've felt like a building.  Not very far from my house is an active construction site.  Almost daily I pass by and observe and reflect on the parallels to my own life.  I'm coming through a long season of demolition, of reworking thought patterns learned since childhood.  With a highly analytical and critical brain I often feel like I never make it passed the tearing down and demolition phase.  But I feel like I'm finally emerging from a major one: "saying NO to abandonment, and being a victim of it." And as I watch this construction site I'm struck by several things:
(1) There is a sign with the construction company's slogan plastered on it: "When it comes to quality, we dig deep". Over the last few months I have taken hope in this phrase as if an affirmation from Christ himself.
(2) After you destroy everything you dig a really, really big hole.  You dig down before you can dig up.  Ironically, I recently read a devotional about this very truth in Thoughts that Make Your heart sing by Salley Lloyd-Jones (the lady who wrote the Jesus Story Book Bible). 
(3) Before you can pour the concrete you put what appear to be, molds in place, the temporary before the solid.  Its a process. A long one at that. 
(4) And after this long and not very visually exciting process of digging a large hole and a foundation that no one really sees, but changes everything, and is either going to make or break the entire structure, the walls go up. All of a sudden.  Just like that. It starts taking shape. In an instant.

And the lumber smells so fresh, like life, like growth, like hope, like newness. And it will be a while before this building is complete.  But the change, the transformation is amazing and only now am I beginning to see it.  And as I sift through the past few years, I can't believe the changes that have been made in my own life, the growth, the demolition, the digging of a very deep hole, the warmth of my cocoon. And I can't believe we're here all of a sudden. So I'm begging time to slow down, so that I can relish my last few weeks in my warm cocoon before the next phase of transformation.  And all I can do is give thanks and say that God has been very faithful to me, and that I know He will continue to be.

You Amaze me

Because today was filled with everything wonderful: coffee, friends, art, laughter, books. And because God's presence and love is so out of my control. And I love it even though it freaks me out!  So here is a poem because I can feel Christ skipping around on my insides and I just want to shout it from the roof tops...

You amaze me.
You explode my frontal cortex like volcanoes.
Your presence in my life is like a herd of stegosauruses parading through the forest.
Your love and tender care are like moonbeams around the moon.
You amaze me and move me.
I stand in awe of You.
Be holy in my heart.
Be a cut above all else.

Amen

Real math doesn't involve numbers: real thankfulness doesn't either!

It's been a week since Ash Wednesday, the start of lent.  And as quickly as we wash the ashes from our foreheads we forget the promises we made to God, we forget and do the thing we promised not to.  I have a two liturgies I'm following and I've been so tired lately that I've fallen asleep reading them.  And I think about the disciples who were told to "watch and pray" and how they fell asleep too.  And part of me takes comfort in that fact and another part of me is disturbed because I should have learned from them.  And really all I'm doing is reading two pages, not staying awake in a garden to pray.  And this is where grace comes in because He knows we can't.  He knows that however many times we promise to stay awake and pray or read we will fall asleep. Because we can't do it.  Not by our power or our strength.

And I think about how I like to control everything, even lent.  And this morning I sit and read Zechariah and I hear the words from 4:6b: "This is the word of the Lord to Zerubbabel: not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, says the Lord of Hosts."  And I think of Elijah in 1 Kings 19.  About how God was not in the wind, or the earthquake or fire but how He was in the sound of the whisper.  And I think of how I turn to the loud events of my life and look for God but how He is quietly there speaking through His spirit, continuously inviting me in. 

I think of how I'm almost at 1000 on my thankfulness list.  And how as I get closer I want to conquer it more.  And I think about hitting 5000 and then 10'000.  And all of a sudden its not about becoming awake to God its about the numbers.  And I hear Him say to me, "no more numbers, you have to let go of the numbers".  And my heart is crushed.  "What about my thankfulness party?" What about me being encouraged by the numbers, to see how far I've come?"  But its not about the numbers.  And I think of how my one brother always tells me that real math doesn't even involve numbers.  I think about how I don't like that because it scares me.  It changes what I know. And how I can't control it.  And I think about how real thankfulness doesn't have numbers.  And so I write my thanks and I will have my thankfulness party when lent is done.  And I choose to enter in and see all that He has lavished upon me.  And I think of how often I hear that word.  Of how at least three or four times a week a stranger will use the word "lavish".  And I think of how odd that is, because who uses that word in everyday life anyway?  But its my God given theme for the year.  And so I guess I shouldn't really be surprised that I hear it so often or that people pray it over me like last night, without even knowing what they are saying.  And I feel blessed beyond reason. 

And so I open my hands....I let go of the numbers, I let go of people, of situations I can't control, of my life.  And I receive.  I receive my manna, my "what is it?" and I offer up my thanks.  And I lite my candle and I pray for people I don't feel like praying for, because I have been given much, because I have been lavished upon, and because while I was still enemies with Christ He died for me.  And because it's not by my strength, or wind or earthquakes but by His Spirit.  And so I can.  Because like we sing on Sunday mornings with our hearts bursting out of our chests: "the Spirit of Christ is inside of me and He's alive, the old is gone and the new has come, He's alive, He's alive". And so I can.

Ash Wednesday: the Valley of Vision

Its Ash Wednesday: the first day of Lent.  Both this year and last year I've thought about the Via Dolorosa, "the path of suffering".  And both years I've lamented the fact that when I was in Israel I didn't take the time to walk through every station.  And once again, I find my soul longing to take the trek back to Israel and walk it...slowly, very slowly, like slow motion to the 200th power. To walk through the fifteen stations over the course of the 40 days. Embracing the different moments of Christ's suffering.  That journey of entering into it with Him. I dream that one day I will get this chance.

I recognize and feel like a lot of people don't understand the need for this.  After all Christ died and was raised up by God (both actions in the past tense) and we have been set free so why would we go back and enter into His suffering for 40 days when we have been set free? And fair enough.  I am set free and Christ's life resides in me (past, present and future tense).  But there is something to be said for remembering.  For slowing down to remember what it cost him in the face of our betrayal.  It feels to me like our culture has lost the value of suffering,  the value of working long and hard for something.  This is something the church Fathers and Mothers seem to write about extensively, how entering into Christ's suffering births in us new life and grace and oddly, freedom. A paradox I'm not even going to claim to understand. But I'm willing to believe the wisdom that has stood the test of centuries and I'm going to try to enter into this mystery. 

And so on this Ash Wednesday (which by the way if you are in Abbotsford there is an Ash Wednesday service tonight  at 7pm at Bakerview church) I've been doing some reading, reflecting and contemplating. 

I keep being brought back to three stories: one from the Pentateuch, one from the Prophets and one from the Gospels. 

The Pentateuch:
Gen. 2:7 "then the Lord God formed man of the dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature."  It is from the dust of the earth where we came and that is where we return.  We are completely at His mercy.  But I'm struck by the fact that God didn't just make us, He breathed his very own living breath into us and we became alive.  And it is in Him that we live and move and have our very being: our life. And apart from Him there is no life.

The Prophets:
Ez. 37:1-14 "The hand of the Lord was upon me, and he brought me out in the Spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of the valley; it was full of bones.  And he led me around among them, and behold, there were very many on the surface of the valley, and behold, they were very dry.  And he said to me, 'son of man, 'can these bones live?' And I answered, '\O Lord God, you know'.  Then he said to me, 'prophesy over these bones, and say to them, O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord.  Thus says the Lord God to these bones: 'Behold I will cause breath to enter you and you shall live.  And I will lay sinews upon you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live, and you shall know that I am the Lord.' So I prophesied as I was commanded.  And as I prophesied, there was a sound, and behold, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone.  And I looked and behold, there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them.  But there was no breath in them.  Then he said to me, 'prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath, thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live'.  So I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived and stood on their feet, an exceedingly great army.  Then he said to me, 'Son of man, these bones are the whole house of Israel.  Behold they say, 'our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are indeed cut off.' Therefore prophecy and say to them, Thus says the Lord God: 'Behold, I will open your graves and raise you from your graves, O my people.  And I will bring you into the land of Israel.  And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves and raise you from your graves, O my people.  And I will put my spirit within you and you shall live, and I will place you in your own land.  Then you shall know that I am the Lord; I have spoken and I will do it, declares the Lord.'".  And I contemplate these words, and I think about how often we lose our hope, of how often we choose to do our own thing.  Of how we let the world teach us how to live when the world doesn't know the first thing about living (paraphrase Msg. Eph.2). And I think about the paradoxes of how when we were dead in the graves of our lives, Christ came and breathed His life into us and we live.  And how we have to die to ourselves in order to embrace life.

The Gospels:
Mk. 8:31-38 "And he began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and after three days rise again.  And he said this plainly.  And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him.  But turning and seeing his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, 'Get behind me satan! For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man". And calling the crowd to him with his disciples, he said them, 'If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.  For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will save it.  For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? For what can a man give in return for his soul?For whoever is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the hold angels".  And so for me this is what lent is about this year.  About "setting my mind on the things of God and not on the things of man".  Its about entering into His sufferings so that I may be, and am currently being made, "alive together with Christ-by grace you have been saved and raised up with him and he seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus...and this is not of our own doing; it is the gift of God" (Eph.2).

I know that this post is already out of control long, there was just lots to say today :) But I want to leave you with a prayer from the Puritans:

Lord, high and hold, meek and lowly,
Thou hast brought me into the valley of vision,
where I live in the depths but see thee in the heights;
hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold thy glory.

Let me learn by paradox
that the way down is the way up,
that to be low is to be high,
that the broken heart is the healed heart,
that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit,
that the repenting soul is the victorious soul,
that to have nothing is to possess it all,
that to bear the cross is to wear the crown,
that to give is to receive,
that the valley is the place of vision.

Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from the deepest wells,
and the deeper the well the brighter thy stars shine;
Let me find thy light in my darkness,
thy life in my death,
thy joy in my sorrow,
thy grace in my sin,
thy riches in my poverty,
thy glory in my valley."

Amen.  Be blessed this Ash Wednesday.

Shrove Tuesday

Shrove Tuesday...it's here! How is ordinary time already coming to a close? I feel like we just finished advent. And here we are the day before Lent. I feel blindsided by it this year.  I've spent weeks scavenging for lent books at used book stores.  I thought I had a couple more weeks to get ready to prepare for this season. To get ready to get ready. Last night at 11:30 (which really isn't that late, but when you're getting up for an audit at 5am, you should be asleep) I jumped out of bed marched into the living room and proclaimed in a load voice that I was going to make pancakes for dinner the next night. My roommate looked at me like I had lost my mind.  I was too frazzled by the surprise of lent to even explain to her why. I felt irritated with myself for not being more prepared to prepare.

I laid in bed last night reflecting over my last week.  So many things changed last week, big life changes. And as I lay there I realized that Christ had already been preparing me to prepare. I just hadn't been aware of it.  I recall a conversation with a good friend: I was trying to explain to her the changes in my life.  How I felt like I was walking through a gate into broader pastures. That this difficult situation, that this saying "yes" to life was walking through some sort of gateway into more. I'm laughing as I sit here, sitting at the doorway, the gateway of lent, about to enter in.

In honor of Shrove Tuesday, I'm making pancakes and baking cinnamon buns.  And as I knead the dough, I think of how Christ has been kneading my soul.  Balancing all the ingredients of my life out to make a beautiful, smooth, elastic dough.  And how He is placing me in a lightly greased bowl, with a warm damp towel over it, in a warm spot so that the yeast can do its work and lighten the dough.   

And as I roll out the dough and sprinkle brown sugar all over it.  I think of all the blessings He has given me this year.  I think of my thankfulness list. And its as if every little grain of sugar represents a gift, a moment, a treasure that sweetens my life.  And as I sprinkle the cinnamon on I think of the bitter sweet gifts, the ugly beautiful, the difficult but good gifts I've been given.  And I think how much more complete a cinnamon bun is with sugar and the cinnamon.  And I give my thanks.  And so here we go, tomorrow we start lent.  We start preparing for Easter. 

"Now Girls..."

I've needed to write for weeks, but the words just haven't been there.  I've stat down and started so many times, but it wasn't time.  I'm taking a two day rest, a little sabbatical from my normal life.  I'm filling the days with extra sleep, truth, love.  I'm empty and undone, ready to be filled, ready to receive rest. 

Miss Margret passed away last week at the ripe old age of 96.  I've wanted to write for her too. I read all these wonderful things people were writing for her and about her, but again every time I sat time to write the words just felt so inadequate.  How do you communicate a loss like that? How do you celebrate that she has made the big move to be with Jesus and in the same breath groan with the earth the loss of someone so faithful and steadfast? And I reflect on the wise words she often told us..."now girls...".  I think of how she could grow anything and everything in her garden.  I think of one of her favorite verses: "and we know that God can do abundantly more than we can ever ask, hope or imagine.." and she would wink her eyes and grab our arms and say "isn't that wonderful".  And it is wonderful. And its wonderful to see the fruit of that verse in her life. I am filled with hope. 

And I sit here and reflect on my own life. And I allow the fresh undoneness to be real. The rawness to live. And I sit on my knees and I unclench my fists and I open my palms and I receive.  I receive my manna...my "what is it?".  I reflect on the irony of the truth of that statement for my life.  And I sit here with my hands open receiving my "i don't know what this is?"for the day.  And I offer up my thanks. All 863 of them.  And I can hardly believe that I'm nearing the 900 mark, which is only 100 away from 1000. And my heart is filled with excitement and more gratitude. 

And as I offer up my thanks for my manna, my "what is it?", I hear Christ respond: "My grace is sufficient for you, for this".  And I recall a previous conversation with Christ. About how often I ask for miracles when I really need to be asking for grace.  And I'm not saying don't ask for miracles, because we need to, because God can do abundantly more than we can ever ask, hope or imagine.  But sometimes we are so busy asking for miracles that we lose sight of the miracle of grace. And often that's what we need, more grace.

And so I stay in bed a little longer, I buy coffee instead of make it.  I receive the grace of my friends. And I am filled with thanks and wonder of how blessed I am. Of how friends would give up their evening to pray with me, to listen to me process. Of cards from friends far away that speak truth into my present situations.  Of friends who stay a little longer just to listen and care, who make dinner, whatever I want. For a mother who is coming over from the coast just to be with me for a day. And for a God who blessed me with a peaceful sleep. And I feel spoiled beyond my imaginings. I feel cared upon, swaddled up in love.

And I know that His words are finally taking root.  I know that my brain patterns are finally starting to change. And I can feel the healing starting. Finally.