The winds of change

I've been going through a lot of changes in my life the last couple of years. 

My children are both at different stages of the very early phase of "doing the dance" of growing in independence and becoming self-sufficient. Sometimes there are setbacks, and other times, great strides. It's a learning process for all of us - not knowing when to step in and correct them ... or just let them figure it out for themselves. I've made some major mistakes in this department even in the last three months - to my own detriment -that I must now live with. It's a hard pill to swallow.

My husband retired in 2009, and suddenly he was making less per month than he made in 2 weeks under his old pre-retirement salary. That was a big adjustment for both of us to make!  Finances have been getting more and more tight. We've had to learn to live within our new means - and I must admit that this was much more of an adjustment for the children than for us, because most of the money we spent (and still spend) is for them or on their behalf. We had to forego many of the expenses they'd come to see as "normal" - just to put food on the table.

He's not getting any younger, either. That has been on my mind a LOT lately. I've seen him being worn down by all of this, and by the fact that he is unable to work to help support the family finances. He just turned 61. Studies have shown that people aged 65 and over are more likely to experience depression than any other age group. (Banich & Compton, 2011)  I'm being forced to consider possibilities I never wanted to consider before (thinking that if I did, I'd be making the unthinkable happen!) It scares the life out of me. It really does. I would be lying if I put on that brave front that a lot of believers call "speaking in faith." Truth be told, it's all I can do to stave off panic in this area.

The climate in my workplace has also changed, as I'm sure it has for so many people. The economic situation in our country is grim, and I know several people who have had to retire because of cutbacks ... people who are great at what they do. Seniority means nothing; the bottom line dictates who stays and who goes. Corporate memory has been reduced to a trickle, and the ones who are left are doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past without those (admittedly higher-paid) people to rely on for information on what's been tried and hasn't worked. Job security is non-existent. With that "sword of Damocles" hanging above our heads, and management trying to put a positive spin on what is ruining people's lives, making the ones who are left do the same work with fewer people (do more with less) morale is at an all-time low. I've been feeling particularly vulnerable lately, as I can see how there is likely to be a move toward paring down our numbers even more. We're already overworked as it is.

With an eventual forced retirement in mind, I started looking around for alternatives. I found an online university that lets you stay at your current job and get your Master's degree. I applied and was accepted into a Counseling Psychology program. My start date was September 2nd. So right now, I am deep into homework assignments, projects, reading, studying, and trying to juggle all that with home, church, and work. I barely have enough time to do what I like to do - which is what I'm doing now - so I have to carve out time for myself to do that. It's a sanity-saver.  :)

Photo "Sun Ray Behind Dark Cloud" courtesy of Sura Nuralpradid at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

And then there are the changes at church. I know that comings and goings are all part of the ebb and flow of church life, but there is this one couple that has become very dear to my husband and me. Just recently, we found out that they were moving away, through circumstances beyond their control. It felt like someone reached in and ripped the hearts out of both of us. We've been experiencing wave upon wave of grief over this loss, and over the move which is slated to happen in stages as they transition into their new location. 

My body is changing. I'm in the final stages of menopause - and while I rejoice that "the curse" is finally over for the most part, there are other, more unpleasant physical changes that affect women at my age, not the least of which is a lessening in the skin's elasticity. (Yeah - that means wrinkles and sagging skin!) I'm trying to eat more healthily - which has increased my base energy level. However, the stresses I've mentioned deplete my sleep bank. There are the rare days when I have had to take a sick day just to sleep, because I just can't function otherwise. Sometimes I blame my age (i.e., menopause) ... but I am more inclined to think it's because of all the other changes added TO the menopause. The other day I caught my reflection in the mirror. "Who is that exhausted old woman?" I thought to myself.

Change - whether positive or negative - produces stress. It is inevitable of course, but it is still stressful. And while routine and security are increasingly important to me, I'm finding that I need to move outside my comfort zone and try new things. I have no choice ... if I want to keep from stagnating.

I take great comfort in the fact that God is constant. Faithful. Unchanging. Persistently passionate. And supremely dependable and available to talk to at any moment. 

There are lyrics to a verse and chorus from an old hymn which, lately, have been coming back to me more and more. 

       His oath, His covenant, His blood 
           support me in the whelming flood. 
       When all around my soul gives way,  
           He then is all my hope and stay.  
       On Christ the solid rock I stand; 
           All other ground is sinking sand... 
                         (Mote, Edward [(c) 1834] - emphasis mine.) 

This is the one constant, the only thing I can count on for sure.  It's like an anchor deep inside. If not for Him, I would surely lose my way and succumb to the relentlessness ravages of the winds of change. 

 
References:
Banich, M. & Compton, R. (2011). Cognitive Neuroscience [3rd edition]. 
      Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, Cengage Learning

Mote, Edward [(c) 1834]. The Solid Rock. Public Domain

Death, dying and living

Okay before I get going, I'm not going to talk about life after death today. I'm not going to talk about deathbed experiences or any of that stuff.  Maybe another day, but not today.

Instead, I'm going to talk about fear.

Before I got to know Jesus, I used to fear death. In a couple of senses I still do - that is, I fear the separation that it brings from loved ones and the ability of people left behind to cope with that loss (whether my death or the death of someone very close to me).  But as for death itself - thanks to my relationship with God - it holds very little terror for me, aside from that of the unknown. (After all, as a rule you only get to do it once; there are no do-overs, no second chances).

Dying, though, is a different matter. Dying is the process by which a person goes from being alive to being dead. For some, that happens in a moment of time. For others, it's a lengthy and usually quite painful experience. Since I don't know by which means I will make that transition, I do fear dying. I wonder if, should I need to undergo that painful and lengthy process, I will be able to withstand it. 

My human imagination can think of any number of ways I could pass from this world into the next. A car accident, an aneurysm, a heart attack, even a bullet during an attack - these are quick. They are unpleasant to think about - but they don't last long. On the other hand, I have seen enough human suffering to know that a lengthy illness, cancer, diabetes, or even dementia or Alzheimer's can take years of suffering to reach its ultimate end. Facing the idea of those possibilities is something that makes me quail. Never knowing when it will stop. Never knowing how quickly it will get worse. Putting my family through the stress of looking after me. These things can preoccupy me and cause me to experience an uneasiness at best and downright panic at worst. 

I take comfort in knowing that God - who loves me - will never leave or forsake me and will make a way for me to be able to bear whatever comes. 

By far the most pervading fear, though, is something that not many people talk about - largely because (I suspect) they either don't know it exists OR if they do know it exists, they don't want to admit that it does. It's the fear of living.

Yes. I experience it, and many people I have met seem to as well. 

I like the status quo. I like things predictable. Routine is big with me. I usually know on any given day what I will be doing and at what time. The danger with that is that life becomes an endless series of automaton-like moves in which my heart and mind are not engaged. It becomes comfortable. Safe. Uncomplicated. Predictable.

But is it living? 

I don't think so. It's surviving, perhaps even maintaining. However, when I compare that kind of life to the "abundant life" that Jesus promised to those who follow Him, I have to admit that it comes up short. 

Thanks to Suvro Datta for this photo,
"Lightning"
Source:  www.freedigitalphotos.net

Such a life is risky. It's dangerous to old routines, persistent and patriarchal ideas, and long-held beliefs about who really is in charge here. 

It's adventurous. 

And there is a large part of me that is terrified of living there. I may make little forays into that realm on occasion - but it has been many years since I lived consistently in that kingdom of believing big, trusting implicitly for everything, and heroically doing battle with giants (whether emotional, spiritual, financial, or physical obstacles) on a daily basis. 

I fear it. I hesitate. It requires a different kind of energy that is exhilarating and exhausting all in one, because it is not my power into which I must tap, but His. Every day. Every minute. Every second. 

More and more, though, I am convinced that it is the only place, the only lifestyle where I can truly realize (that is, achieve) the potential to which God has called me. 

Like death, like dying, truly LIVING is also not optional. Even if I'm scared. Even if it's hard. I guess that's why God has already provided everything we need. He has given us faith - trust - to live by.

If I don't live - really live - I am dead already. 

So maybe I need to, as the songwriter wrote, "pick up the mighty shield of faith, for the battle must be won; we know that Jesus Christ is risen, so the work's already done!" (Praise the Lord)

God speaks

Today my husband and I had a rare treat - to be able to sit under the ministry of someone else with no expectation of us being "in ministry." It's a pleasure we have had to carve out for ourselves and which, truth be told, we plan to do again.

The worship was real, not hyped up - and the music that was the vehicle to worship was provided by just three people and their instruments and voices ... and the willingness and passion to be worshipers in spite of what everyone else did or said. 

And then came the time for the guy at the front to talk. His simple, easy manner made him relate-able ... and love oozed from every fiber of his being; it was irresistible. He spoke on God's desire to speak to us about us, about our families, about things in our experience, and sometimes even about other people. He outlined that it doesn't have to be more complicated or super-spiritual than just asking God to talk to us about what we need to hear. He stressed that the purpose of the kind of messages that God gives us through the Spirit is building up or encouragement, helping us draw nearer to God, and comforting us in our trials. Nothing negative or judgmental in that kind of message.

He gave us a small exercise to do at the end ... a exercise designed to practice what he had been talking about. He asked us to pray to God and request that God show us an object in the room and talk to us about ourselves through that object. And then to open our spiritual ears and listen to what He had to say.

It was one of the most powerful experiences I've had spiritually in a long time. 

"Mandolin" photo courtesy of
lamnee at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

As I looked around the room, expecting God to speak to me through some thing or things, my eyes were drawn to a couple of the instruments that had been used in worship earlier, sitting side by side - a mandolin and a violin. Each was on its stand, waiting for someone to pick it up and use it ... or put it away. I dwelt on the construction of the instrument, what the various parts did, and how the instrument as a whole produced sound.

And God started to speak to me.

I was acutely aware that each instrument was a masterpiece and that each part was designed to enhance the particular sound of the instrument. The neck of the mandolin, for example, was straight and true, and was held in its right place by a steel rod that - though invisible - ensured that the strings did not easily go out of tune. Though small, the whole instrument produced a high, pleasing sound that complimented the lower, more bass sounds in the guitar and the worship leader's voice. It played its part - and when it was not being used, it waited, still in tune in case its owner picked it up. It - in and of itself - was powerless to produce those sounds. Yet it was made to be held, to be cradled close to the heart, and to sing its own song in its own voice when in the Master's hands. That trueness - that in-tune readiness, that powerlessness, was the lesson of the mandolin for me, as well as was the deep luster of several layers of lacquer over the stained wood - all contributing to the richness of the instrument. 

Thanks to kongsky at
www.freedigitalphotos.net
for his photo, "Beautiful Violin"

When I considered the violin sitting next to it on its stand, those lessons repeated themselves ... along with one other. 

I love wood. I love how the richness of the grain comes out when it is stained and how it can be burnished bright to make it shine. Nowhere is this more true than in the craftsmanship in the violin. Intricate carving, expert modeling inside and out, and the beautiful wood's character - personified in the full, aching voice - all make the violin one of my favorite voices in the orchestra. 

This time though, my eyes were drawn to the slits in the wood - to what are known as the f-holes. They are sliced into the thinly planed and shaped body of the violin at strategic points, visible to all, and if this cutting is not done exactly right, it could shatter it.  The violin (if it had feelings) could view such an experience as wounding, marring, even mutilation. There is nothing that can fill those holes; once there, there is no going back. 

And yet, if not for the holes, the sound that came forth (if it came forth at all) would be muffled, muted, even stifled. It is the vibration of the strings against the bow, resonating through the holes into the depths of the instrument and back out again, that gives it its remarkably sweet, expressive, full voice. In a very real way, it is the wounding that enriches the message that the violin speaks. This truth reached down into that wounded place in me and made me understand that it is the "holes" in me that make me God's special instrument to tell His message in ways that I can only begin to imagine and could barely believe. 

Thank You, God.  I needed to hear that.

Catch me, Daddy!

It was one of their favorite games to play together when she was very small. He would head down the short staircase of the deck and she would wait at the top for him to get to the bottom and turn around and look at her.

"Catch me, Daddy!" she would call out. 

And then, she would back up a couple of strides and take a running leap off the top of the deck stairs - and into his waiting arms.  Her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist in total abandon; she melted in breathless giggles and squeals of delight as he twirled her round and round as if on the dance floor ... only to set her down gently like the princess in disguise that he knew she was.

Thanks to photostock
at www.freedigitalphotos.net
for this photo,
"Father And Daughter"

"Do again!" she'd exclaim - when she could catch her breath again - and she would clamber up the deck stairs to the top again. He'd stretch out his arms - and the magic would happen again, and again - until she was too tired to play anymore and he would cuddle her little form close to his chest. 

I used to marvel at her unconditional faith in him. Until - until I realized that her faith in him was rooted firmly in his trustworthiness, in his unconditional love for her. There was NOT ONE TIME that he ever let her fall. NOT ONCE. Her father loved her. He was as steady as a rock, and she KNEW she could depend on him. Daddy would never let her fall. Daddy would ALWAYS catch her.

Faith is like that. It means nothing and will surely be betrayed ... unless the one in whom your faith is placed is worthy of that trust. 

"We have an anchor that keeps the soul steadfast and sure while the billows roll," the songwriter wrote. 

No relying on our own strength. No guard rails, no safety net. Just us and Him. Total dependence on Him. There is absolutely no way that we can live, exist, move, love, trust - anything - without the vast and deep dependability of our Heavenly Father. "Fastened to the Rock which cannot move, grounded firm and deep in the Savior's love." 

Wholehearted confidence in God is wholly based on God's character, not on us. That way HE gets all the credit. 

And we get to dance with Him ... as His treasure.

Hope Springs

I love it when God decides to show up in a service. 

I know that He is there where two or three are gathered together and focused on Him. I get that. However, there is something special, a unique anointing, when He decides to make His presence felt. 

Like today. 

The man who spoke at our church service today was brought up in our church, and there was nothing special or particularly awesome about his delivery or his speaking style.... except for one thing.  He was passionate about his message. He works with Teen Challenge in Ontario and spoke with fervor about the need in our society for church folks to stop judging and start reaching out, like Jesus did at the Samaritan well to a woman who had had five husbands, and the one she was with wasn't her husband. 

He showed a video that opened my eyes and challenged me, gave me hope where there literally had been despair, and renewed my faith to keep praying for the loved ones I have who are not currently serving Him. Its link is here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OfHCMpOcJt4 

After church, I had the opportunity to connect with a lady I have come to really appreciate the last several years, more and more of late.  I was able to share some of my own story with her, and as I did, it was though the years melted away and it had only happened a short time ago. I felt keenly the slimy hole I was in so many years ago, those feelings of worthlessness and helplessness, the hurt that I tried to drown in attention-getting behaviors which only scratched the surface of that deep-down itch nobody could touch. And I remembered what it felt like as I described how Jesus had found me, like that woman at the well, and showed me exactly where I was - and was gracious to rescue me. Literally rescue me. I felt tears springing to my eyes as I spoke. 

It gave me hope to see that video I put the link to, above. And it gave me hope to share my story and remember that God doesn't care (as the song goes) where you've been sleeping:

I don't care where you've been sleeping; I don't care who made your bed;
I already gave My life to set you free. 
There's no sin you can imagine that is stronger than My love.... 
And its all yours if you'll come home again to Me. (Don Fransisco)

When it comes right down to it, everyone is broken. We're just broken in different places, that's all. Judging someone else because their broken place is not in an area that is a problem for you ... is kind of like a fellow who's lost a leg judging someone else who's lost the other one. 

It's good to know that God doesn't make distinctions or rate on a sliding scale when it comes to brokenness. Everyone is in the same situation. And Jesus is more about rescuing people who know they need help than He is about posturing and politicking. His sacrifice is sufficient for all, and once He has touched your life, or the life of someone you care about, He will NEVER let go. NEVER.

I needed to hear that... so much. Maybe you do, too.

Knowing His Voice

"My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me... My Father, Who gave them to Me, is greater than all, and no one shall be able to pluck them out of My Father's Hand." - Jesus, in John 10:28-30

This morning, I was reminded of how Jesus ministered when He was on Earth. Many people have told me - all of my life - how Jesus went somewhere and "healed them all" and how that's God's will for everyone. That it's within His will for us to pray for someone to be healed, or for a circumstance to be alleviated, or for whatever "negative" thing that person is experiencing to be resolved. 

I'm not so sure.

Oh, I'm not saying that God doesn't hurt when His people hurt. I'm not saying that He doesn't still heal or protect. I know from experience that He does!! 

However, I've been looking at how Jesus operated when He walked the earth, and it's actually a little less like what I've been taught to take for granted in the church. 

Only in a few places did Jesus go into a village and "heal them all" ... and usually only if He wasn't going to stay there for long. If He was going to a major center, like Jerusalem, for example, He would only teach or hang out at the local bar, or go to the temple. Once in a while He'd heal someone. Maybe a few at a time. But not everyone. 

It's like this. Jesus gave up His divine attributes when He came here, and so the miracles that He did, He did by the power of the Holy Spirit. He actually LIVED in the Spirit - and in doing so, He LISTENED to the Spirit. "Turn this corner. Go this way, not that way. Sit at this table, not that one. Heal that person in the corner, not the one begging at the Temple gate." 

Ah. Yes, the beggar at the gate Beautiful, the one who was there every. single. day. Hmm. I wonder how many times Jesus passed that guy and not once did God say to heal him? 

And so ... Jesus didn't. "I do only what the Father tells Me," He said once.

Remember Lazarus? Jesus listened to the Father about him too, so much so that He delayed charging off to the rescue when a message came that Lazarus was sick. Why? Because God told Jesus that it wasn't time to go yet. And when He did say it was time to go, He gave Jesus a word of knowledge that Lazarus was dead. And they were going anyway. 

Photo "Sun Ray Behind Dark Cloud"
courtesy of Sura Nuralpradid at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Here's another thing. At the graveside of Lazarus, who among the people who were there believed Jesus would raise him up that day? Lazarus sure didn't. Mary and Martha believed that if Jesus had only arrived a few days earlier, their brother wouldn't have died. Yet they were deep in grief and didn't believe that Jesus could do anything now. Neither did the mourners around them. There was a total lack of faith at that grave site. And Jesus prayed as God led Him to pray. There was no concert of prayer there. There were no people stretching their hands toward the tomb. There was only Jesus and God - the former obeying what the latter had told Him to do. 

And THEN the miracle happened. 

I think that we get it backwards sometimes. I think we tend to believe that God is all about us doing stuff for Him. Don't get me wrong, I think that doing stuff is great - IF it's God directing us to do it. What I am saying is that we have gotten the cart before the horse, and we don't wait for God to tell us where to go or what to do. We are so busy doing the work of the Lord, one saying goes, that we forget about the Lord of the work!

Jesus spent a LOT of time talking to God. He got His strength, His direction, straight from a moment-by-moment dependence on Him through the Holy Spirit. At every turn, every second, He was listening, attuned to the Father's Voice. 

The most important thing to Jesus personally was the knowledge of the presence of God. It was why He cried out in anguish on the cross, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?" Not just to fulfill scripture, that was a heart's cry of grief over broken fellowship. 

And on the Final Day, when those who believe they have done so much for Him stand before Him to give an account, telling Him how much they have done "for Him", He will say to them, "Depart from Me, ... I never knew you." 

What? Doesn't God know everyone? What does that mean, "I never knew you"?  The verb "to know" in that passage is talking about the same "knowing" by which Abraham knew his wife, Sarah. 

Intimacy: there it is again. 

What He is saying in that passage is this: "You never let Me know you. You never let Me - not My work, but ME - have first place in your heart. You never let me ravish your innermost being, or delight your soul. You were too busy working for Me that I couldn't get close. I was your Employer, not your Lover." 

Ouch.

How long has it been since I've heard His voice, responded to His touch, crawled up into His lap and fallen asleep in His arms? How long since I've taken the time to remember when He rescued me from myself and to lift my gratitude to Him? How long since I've just let Him lavish His love on me? It is in that secret place with Him that I find out what He wants me to do ... and when ... and how.... and when to stop.  It truly is a moment-by-moment thing. 

Knowing Him in that way, in that intimacy, precedes knowing His Voice, recognizing His leading, going and doing and saying what He wants. I suspect that we waste a lot of effort pinging around doing what we think is His will, when what it might really be is to wait until the time is right, or to go in a different direction. Or just to be quiet and let someone work things through on his or her own. 

Being quiet actually sounds like a really good place to start.

Piercing the Darkness

A friend posted this morning on Facebook a picture she had taken of a lighthouse. The morning was misty, the paint on the building had peeled and worn almost off with the surf, but there it stood.

The caption contained a quote from D.L. Moody: "We are told to let our light shine, and if it does, we won't need to tell anybody it does. Lighthouses don't fire cannons to call attention to their shining - they just shine." 

That spoke to me. How many times in my life have I wanted to sound the fanfare and make people notice what I stood for, the message that has changed my attitudes and rescued me from myself? I have lost count. How many times have I wanted to grab someone and pull them out of danger? The tendency is still there to want to rescue, to want to fix people's problems. 

But the lighthouse tells me something different. 

Thanks to -Marcus- for his photo,
"Lighthouse at Dusk"
found at www.freedigitalphotos.net

The only purpose a lighthouse has ... is to shine. That's it; that's all. It doesn't head out into the storm itself to rescue ships in danger. It doesn't shoot a cannon to announce its presence (how many times have I shot my mouth off??? too many to count!! - and it's always ended by the person being more wounded than if I'd just kept quiet!) 

The lighthouse in itself is nothing. It doesn't matter how old it is, how good it looks, whether the paint is peeling or even worn completely off. What matters is the LIGHT. What matters is whether the light that is inside still works, because someday a life - or lives - will depend on it. Oh, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. However, the real treasure of the lighthouse is the constancy of that light. The lighthouse just stays where it is, come storm or high water, and holds the light high for all to see. It doesn't hide the light because someone in a nearby village complains, but the keeper actually keeps the windows clean and clear so that nothing hinders the message. "Danger. Rocks ahead!"

That light pierces the darkness. It cuts through the rain and the sleet. "A light that is set on a hill," Jesus said, "cannot be hidden." We don't need to strain and strive and grunt with effort to make it shine; it just shines! We don't need to do the search and rescue worker's job. We just need to let the light shine, to let that Light - the Light of the world - do His job. He does it best and doesn't need any help. 

We may not even know how many lives are rescued that way. We don't need to know. And it is not our responsibility to get out there and force people to make the choice we so long people to make. It is not our choice; it is theirs. And Jesus has been drawing and guiding people to Him far longer than we have been His light-bearers. He knows how best to reach someone. He alone can pierce the darkness. We need to trust that He will find a way.

All we are called to do is LET. LET the light shine. LIVE in relationship with Him on a day-by-day basis, and the effect of that life will automatically show. No matter where we are, no matter the circumstances. 

In fact, it is during the darkest night, the wildest of storms, that the Light within us will shine the brightest and reach people in peril.