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
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
"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.
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.
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