Day of Rest

There was a time, a few years ago, when I looked forward to Sundays  -  well, SOME Sundays at least  -  because I was in worship ministry and I knew and enjoyed spending time with the people on my worship team.  The leaders were Spirit-filled and Spirit-led - and worship was a pure joy, so much so that when I entered in, there was nobody that I was aware of except for my Savior and me. My husband agreed. For a while, it was marvelous.

Then those people left. They had another ministry opportunity elsewhere, and after they were gone, it seemed as though the life and soul went out of that place for us. Others came in to take their place, but that sense of being led by the Spirit gradually got replaced by a sense of duty and obligation. When that happened, church became an effort, and we noted how we spent a good five or six hours in that place on a Sunday, and came home exhausted, dead tired, from the sheer effort it took to navigate petty bickering, personality clashes, and politics. More and more we dreaded going to church. 

Finally, for those reasons and more besides, we realized that the organized church was not the place for us. We were burnt down to the core, used up, and spit out. People only wanted us around for our talents - and sometimes not even then. Error began to creep into the preaching - not the kind of error that questions if angels do or don't have wings, but the kind of error that made Christianity more about internal politics, external performance, and following an arbitrary set of rules than it did about acceptance, love and grace. As we stood on the platform and ministered, and even had time limits put on that, we felt as though our being there was a form of support for (and therefore agreement with) this kind of fear-based thinking. We wanted no part of that.

So after much prayer and soul-searching, we left. That was August 2015. 

Image "Couple Having Breakfast" courtesy of Ambro
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

Since that time, we have grown to love Sundays again. It truly is a day of rest for us.  For one thing, we no longer dicker over whether Saturday or Sunday is the sabbath. Technically Saturday is, but we have long thought of Sunday as our day of rest, and as long as it is one day in seven (which we never had before; Sunday was our busiest day!) we figure it's all good. We finally can rest one day in seven!! For another thing, we can sleep in without guilt, leisurely have breakfast and talk to one another, spend time together, and do things we enjoy doing: reading, listening to music, going for a stroll, whatever. 

What's more, we are closer to God now than we have ever been in our lives. "What do you do for fellowship?" we hear church members ask us again and again when they hear us say we don't "go to church."  And we chuckle.  Back then, we "fellowshipped" by rubbing shoulders with people, shaking their hands (when we were told to) and talking about superficial things like the weather or sports or the latest style of boots, or whatever. Now, God sets up our fellowship (and so much more often than just once a week!) and we discuss deep spiritual things, we open up about our joys and struggles, and we pray for each other. It's koinonia - a real, living, fluid community, and we are so much more free than we have ever been. We have seen God heal, restore, encourage, and lift up our brothers and sisters, without ever setting foot inside a church building, because "where two or three are gathered together in My name, there I am in the midst."

And it happens all the time. Not just Sundays, but nearly every day of the week, in some form or other. We are happier, more at peace, more filled with joy, and growing in love and acceptance. We have seen God meet needs miraculously, whether physical or financial or emotional. It's exciting, quite frankly! And it gives us a sense of calmness and rest to live in that stream of loving community.  

So, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go read some more. And maybe I'll even take a short nap. Life is good. :)

Myth-ing out

Life is hard. It's so good to have wonderful friends and family who are there and who care. Sometimes, though, friends and family have no idea how to do that.

It's amazing to me how many of God's people miss out on opportunities to step alongside someone and help them through a rough patch, or a dark and lonely valley, just because of preconceived notions - or what I call myths - about basic things like life, death, God's will, and prayer. These myths, expressed in ways intended to comfort, actually do the opposite in many cases. 

Take, for example, the person who is terminally ill. Their family is dealing with the hard facts that they may not have much time left with their loved one. I have heard all kinds of things said to the families (and to the sick person) and quite frankly, many of them do more harm than good. 

Here's one example. One of the things I have heard people say is that "it's never too late; God may still reach in to heal, so keep on believing." While this is true, and it could happen, first of all, why would you push for a return to this earth when Heaven is so much better than here? And what gives human beings the right to dictate what God's will might be for that individual or family? Secondly, telling the family to keep on believing is kind of an insult. Think about it. If there were any more prayers to be prayed, if there was any more faith to be exercised, don't you think they've already tried praying and believing every single waking moment? Isn't this experience hard enough without the family living with not only grief, but guilt and shame you placed on them because they feel they somehow didn't do enough to keep their loved one with them?

Here's another myth - the assumption that the person has already died, it's just a matter of when they stop breathing. Kind of cruel, isn't it? but people couch it in religious terminology like "Praying for peace for you and yours at this difficult time." All it really means is that (a) the person is a goner, in the mind of the person saying this, and (b) the person giving condolences distances themselves emotionally and is spouting platitudes, which are polite, meaningless noises that they think people are supposed to say when someone is grieving. "Feel better," is what this amounts to, but the person almost always has no intention of being around before the grieving one feels better.

Photo "Sadness Woman In Friend's
Arms" by David Castillo Dominici
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

A third (and this one is completely false): "God must need another angel." People don't become angels; that would be a demotion. (Look it up. Angels long to have the relationship with God that we do by second birthright.) That's the first myth. The second myth is the implication that God TAKES someone away from us, which is the farthest from the truth. When a loved one passes away, God WELCOMES them Home. They immediately step into the next phase of Eternity - a richness of life and joy that we can only barely begin to comprehend. And He is WITH the people who are left behind, available for them to weep hot tears or sit in stony, silent, excruciating heart-pain, or anything in between, for as long as they need to. His patience, love, and kindness is measureless and strong.


I get why people say these things. They say them because human beings were never created for separation. People feel uncomfortable with the word goodbye, when they know that the goodbye is for what might be a very long time. That's as it should be, really. But my point is that those people who are going to be left behind need as much help and support as we can give them, in a real and tangible way. Are we really helping them by telling them these things? Or are we just helping ourselves feel better by convincing ourselves we've done our bit? Where will we really be when the harsh reality of life without their loved one hits them like a ton of bricks? Hiding safe behind our platitudes, or walking the valley with them - in person - so they can lean on us when they need to? 

I am talking to myself just as much as I am to anyone else. Even though I have known the loss of many dear ones, every time is at least as hard, and every time is different. I know that the terminal illness or loss of a loved one is messy, and it can be very uncomfortable to witness up close; believe me when I say that the person undergoing such an experience would love to be able to NOT witness it. But people sometimes need that other witness, that person who sits with them or hugs them without saying a word, whose presence is there, comforting without the need to say anything. Sometimes that means going for a piece of pie and an iced tea, sometimes it means inviting them over for an evening, sometimes it means letting them talk and letting them cry - and crying with them - and sometimes it even means sitting with them in the hospital ward rest area and missing your favorite sitcom.

It might be inconvenient. It might be uncomfortable. But to do any less would be missing - and mything - out.

The Broken Hallelujah

There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah
                        - - Leonard Cohen (1984)


I like Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" better than any other version I've ever heard.  I've heard a couple of different versions where someone (because it's in the public domain and because they liked the tune but not the words) has put different words to the music - words that they thought would be more uplifting - and while the new words were more uplifting, something inside me somehow felt like singing other words to it was being (for me) ... disloyal or wrong at a core level.

Okay, part of it is because I'm a songwriter and I know what it's like when someone takes your song and puts words in it that aren't there. It's like someone pronouncing your name wrong. Every. Time. It grates. It just does. 

But most of it (in keeping with the whole author thing) is that the original song has a message that a lot of people miss. It's about the broken hallelujah.  

Photo "Sad Woman Sitting Alone In Room"
courtesy of FrameAngel at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

As most everyone knows, the word hallelujah means "praise the Lord."  Cohen was inspired by King David's story of brokenness  -  how he fell into adultery and lost his throne over it - and still worshiped God.  David's hallelujah was a broken one. But it was a hallelujah nonetheless.

Something I heard at a worship conference years ago may help me explain what I mean.  Internationally known worship leader Bob Fitts came to lead worship at our church once, over 10 years ago, first by talking about what worship is and isn't, and then by doing it and inviting us to join in.  In his talk, he was saying that all worship is precious to God, but that the worship that arises out of our brokenness is the kind where He draws closest to us, whether we are aware of it or not. That we choose to worship Him during those times, when our hearts are breaking, touches His heart. It takes far more courage to worship God when one's world is caving in than it does when everything is going right. Especially when the worship is not asking for anything ... except possibly for an awareness of His presence.

Hence the broken hallelujah. I've been there - broken, I mean - ... many times. One important time comes to mind especially today, the 3rd anniversary of our family being informed of my daughter's death the previous night.  It's been those kinds of times when I've reached up like a drowning person only to grasp nothing but emptiness, when I have felt alone and frightened by the intensity of my emotions, when I have depleted my strength and my ability to withstand the harsh, accusing voices in my mind, that God has reached out to me and in love, mercy and grace, reminded me that He is with me and that he really loves me. His love is so great - and the worship - born from trust in that love - rises from me even through the pain. It's a broken hallelujah ... gurgling up from blubbering lips and a throat that feels swollen and choked, sobbing past hot tears and a broken heart.

Here's the secret though.  It's both a broken AND a holy hallelujah.  That's how I see Leonard Cohen's message, even if he might never have intended it that way. His original message was that the holy and the broken hallelujahs were of equal value - and in a way, yes they are. But the broken ones are holy in themselves, maybe even the most holy ones. 

There's a blaze of light 
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken hallelujah -
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelu-jah.

Prescription Lenses

When I was 40, I was having daily headaches, and the headlights of approaching vehicles hurt my eyes, and my husband (who has worn glasses since he was 8 years old) suggested that I get my eyes checked. To my surprise, I needed prescription lenses ... and as I have gotten older, I have moved to bifocals.  It is natural for me now to reach for my glasses as soon as I get up in the morning.

It took me longer to realize that I needed spiritual glasses.  I grew up in the church, became a Christian at age 11, and I didn't realize that the constant sense of pressure and pain I was feeling was from all of the imposed expectations of everyone around me to conform to some code of behaviour in order for me to be accepted by them.  I just thought it was part of my "cross to bear" or "vale of tears"... and carried on.  I traded what was really important to me for whatever the fad was in worship style or [what was preached as] doctrine.  I touted all the buzz words, acted the part, and attended every event.  But inside, I was hurting.  I began to wonder if this was all there was, because if it was, then I was getting more and more unhappy.  

I got a glimpse - in late 1982 - of a different kind of life, a life of adventure and purpose and joy. This lasted a few years, and I consider it one of the best times in my life.  However, the divine unconditional love I experienced during that time eventually got crowded out by others' expectations ... again.  Once more, I was back on the road of ever-increasing misery.  For a long while I blamed myself - and even my kids - for what I thought was the culprit: being too busy.  It wasn't being busy. It wasn't my kids.  And it wasn't me.

It took a long time to connect the dots, some thirty plus years, in fact.  All I knew for sure was that when I was engaging in pure worship, nothing and nobody existed except God and His love for me. I literally lived for those times, thinking that they were rare and they were what kept me going.  And I thought that it was because of the worship (translation: music, atmosphere, harmonies, etc.) when really, it was because of the Love. It was the Love. 

I eventually learned that the "worship" changed depending on who was leading it, and more and more I experienced the Love less and less as those ever-present expectations flooded in and knocked intimacy with Him sideways, like a flood pushing aside a load-bearing wall.  As more people started spreading alarmist doctrines and motivating people with shame, guilt and fear, I began to experience more than just discomfort ... the Love-seeker in me began to detect a disconnect between what I really needed and what was available to me in that kind of atmosphere.  Increasingly, I saw that atmosphere as toxic to my spirit.  For a time, I thought that perhaps it was just the location that was doing this - the need to keep up a building - and that small groups might be the way to go.  And then the church I was attending started having small groups - and I saw that their structure was exactly the same as the large group that met on Sunday mornings.  It was all the same, all based on fear and shame and control, all regimented and rules-based.  No, I figured, that wasn't the answer. I began to lose hope.  Despair started to sink in.  And the whole time, I kept doing ministry, going through the motions, and feeling just awful.

Photo "Young Beautiful Woman Shopping
In A Market" courtesy of nenetus at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Then, a couple of years ago, a friend of mine put on a new set of spiritual prescription lenses.  She ditched the expectations and cloistered herself in with God and sincerely asked Him to reveal who He really was to her.  And God did.  And she was so blown away ... surprised by what she found and delighted, because it was what she had always been searching for but never found ... and barely would have believed.  

Her life literally transformed.  She had found the secret, which had been waiting the whole time for her to just ask, to go and ask God to check her spiritual eyes.  And He did - and gave her His prescription: His unconditional, supreme, passionate, all-pervasive and pure Love.  I watched and listened as she explored more and more facets, getting closer and closer to His heart.  She even began re-reading the Bible - as she put it - through the lens of His Love.  And she was surprised and amazed at how this new prescription changed how she had always interpreted certain passages with which she always had had issues.  The lens of God's love was just what she had been looking for.  She lost her fear.  She lost shame.  She began to experience God's over-the-top, no-holds-barred Love.  And she couldn't help herself ... she was happy!

And you know, happiness is incredibly attractive! 
I saw how joyful she was now - and how free!  And I remembered those days in the early 1980s ... and thought a lot about what it was that made those days special ...  It was Love!  All those buzz words and platitudes I kept spouting, all the speaking in faith, the pronouncing of blessings, the victory marches and the spiritual warfare sessions, all the exorcisms of empty rooms and the hours spent at the altar "seeking" or "birthing" ... they only served as smokescreens obscuring the Main Thing:  God's unconditional Love. 

The more I concentrated on that Love, the more out of place I felt in any regular gathering-place that SAID it was about His Love and yet focused on all those other things (like surrender, being Spirit-filled, and being obedient) as if they were the ultimate goals.  More and more I began to see that - as usual - the cart was in front of the horse and impeding the horse's path.  And as I looked back over my life and all the places I had attended church, I understood that every single assembly I had gone to had put that stupid cart out in front of the horse.  To one degree or another, they all laid burdens (of duty, obligation, and fear) on people's backs and didn't lift one finger to help them, unless they were grieving a loss - and even then, the break from those guilt-based and fear-based burdens was short-lived. 

They had the wrong lenses on - those God's-out-to-get-you lenses - and I was so sick of being surrounded by that.  It got so that I would typically arrive home after church literally exhausted and drained from the constant avalanche of duty-this and fear-that, of do-this and shun-that.  My stress level multiplied by a factor of ten when I was at church.  I did not consider it to be a safe place where I could be myself. 

My husband was feeling the same things.  Eventually (like the elephant in the room) we talked about it ... and after much prayer, soul-searching, and wrestling with all the what-ifs (which took a whole year), we decided to unplug.  Not from God, you understand, but from the organized church.  We had church-surfed before; they were all the same.  We needed - pardon the expression - to "go into detox" from religion: all those extra trappings that most people equate with Christianity but which really are NOT, nor do they bear any resemblance to the joy-filled, love-infused connections He originally designed for His people. Why? for no other reason than this simple truth: He Loves us. No conditions, no formulas, no jumping through hoops, and no limits.

Since that time, our stress level has vastly reduced, and God- because I know you are curious - has set up wonderful times (on His timetable) where we get together with other believers (as He chooses) and feel lifted up and strengthened rather than worn out and weary.  We are able to pray without feeling obligated to pray, to give or to pour into people's lives without being manipulated by shame, and to enjoy little blessings as from Him without the need to say, 'Praise God' after every sentence.  (He knows we are grateful - and His knowledge of our hearts is all that matters.)  Our family is far closer.  And we are growing in the knowledge that He loves us no matter what!! 

We are slowly learning to use our new Love-lenses, and everything seems so much more natural that way.  We don't have to strain and strive to live the Christian life; it just naturally flows out of realizing more and more His overwhelming Love for us. We are learning to see the Love shining through the pages of scripture.  We are less afraid to feel what we feel without apology, knowing that He is real and expresses what He feels, so it is okay for us to do the same.  There are no regrets.  There is only an overwhelming sense of gratitude for being completely and totally accepted and loved to the uttermost.  

I like these new Love-glasses.  I can see much better with them.

The bitter and sweet seasons

Christmas day is a day some people sing about, look forward to, dread, and just endure. Everyone seems to have feelings about it - either warm, nostalgic ones or cold, harsh ones.  I've felt both extremes and everything in between.  

Some people try to minimize the spiritual side of the holiday and are militant about de-christianizing it, making it politically correct. Others try to shove 'the reason for the season' down people's throats (news flash: everybody gets it. It's called CHRIST-mas - celebration of Christ. You don't have to prove it to everybody) to the point of plastering social media with messages designed to make people feel guilty if they don't click Like, type "Amen" and click Share.  

So that's enough of the soap-box.  

My thoughts the last couple of days have been on the bitter side of the season, how it is so hard to go through it without the literal life of the party being around to share Christmas with.  This is our third Christmas without our youngest; she passed away just about 2 months prior to Christmas 2013, and the waves of grief and the bitter taste of loneliness are sometimes unbearable.  Yet, strangely they can mingle with the sweetness of good friends with whom we can share festive seasons.  

I know that the best I can do to be healthy inside my own skin is to be real, to not fake joy, and to pour into someone else's life in a meaningful way.

I don't think that holiday seasons (be they Christmas, Thanksgiving, or Easter or whatever else) get any "easier" when there has been a loss.  The feelings I have learned to pack away to deal with everyday life come raging to the fore when special dates or times of year come to pass, and that is only natural... and right.  

I can't apologize for feeling what I feel. (Often, allowing myself permission to have those feelings is the difference between function and dysfunction.... repressing feelings is never good for the soul.) However, I can try to make someone else's day brighter.  And I know that feelings are usually transient. They happen ... and then they pass.  This is a good thing to know.

Hubby reading the Christmas story -
the presents can wait.

This year, we had thought that our plans to have someone else share our Christmas morning celebration were going to be cancelled, and we were dealing with the disappointment of that (knowing that our friend was with her family, where she needed to be). 

We were just sitting down to breakfast when I got a text.  "I'm back home now," it said. "Can I still come over?" What a blessing that was!  within a half hour she was in our living room, listening to the Christmas story and joining in our sharing around the tree.

Later, another friend joined us, and we shared a meal. And pie. 

We all talked well into the evening, and each of us savoured the sweet of the season: the connection we feel with people who know they are loved and who love in return.  And though we each had a real reason to feel that bitterness, we chose to pour in the sweet, and taste the best of the holiday with each other. 

Escaping the siege

I've been trying to figure out what these past few months has felt like.  In late summer/ early fall, we decided as a couple (after much agonizing) to leave the church.  Not just OUR church, THE church... by which I mean the organized, religious system that calls itself the church.  

I can't begin to describe the growing dissatisfaction that we had felt the last few years while we ran faster and faster on the hamster wheel of performance, always wondering if we were doing enough, feeling guilty and blaming ourselves if our prayers were unanswered, and frankly, feeling embarrassed to invite people in - where we knew they would find what we had - another, deeper level of rejection - where hurting people thrive on pushing hurting people away.  

It's equally as difficult to describe the pulling that we felt toward a deeper and more intimate relationship with Jesus - a call to simplicity, to receiving His love and loving Him back. More and more we saw the futility of our involvement in a system that values nickels and noses, attempts to control its members through shame, fear, and judgment.  Rather than build bridges to those who embrace lifestyles or choices with which they do not agree, this system builds walls to keep them out.

As I pondered this last night, a little story from 2nd Kings 7 came to my mind.  There were these guys living on the outskirts of town - walled in and afraid to leave because "the enemy" was out there. Or so they believed.  The town was under siege.  Food was scarce and deadly expensive; they had even taken to eating bird poop and charging money for it!!  People were getting desperate, even to the point of devouring their children... it was horrible.  Anyway, these guys near the gate were outcasts - they were lepers.  They were not welcome in society, but they could not leave the town because after all, they were members of the community. 

Finally, these guys got fed up (pun not intended).  They figured, "Well, the enemy camp is out there - and it most likely has food.  If we go and surrender to the enemy, they might accept our surrender, and let us live (at least we would get something to eat) and if they kill us, we would have died a lot more slowly inside the wall."  So ... they left ... hearts in their throats.  Desperate.  It was a desperate move made by desperate people.

Meanwhile, the Arameans outside (many hundreds of them) were literally hearing things - and got it into their heads that the king whose town they were besieging had hired people to come and attack them.  So they split!!  Enter the lepers .... who found meals half-eaten, left in haste ... and they could not believe their fortune!  They ate, found money and put that away, and thoroughly enjoyed themselves!  

Photo "Buffet Set On Heated Trays Ready To Eat"
courtesy of jk1995 at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Eventually, they looked at one another and said, "Hey, let's tell someone about this!  This is such good news that we cannot help sharing it - the enemy is gone, and our neighbours can get out of their prison!"  So that is what they did.  By the end of the day, prices were back down to normal, and there was not one hungry person in town. 

I think the reason that I thought about those guys inside the wall, the ones who were so up against it that they left to take their chances outside, was because that was - and is - (in some ways) our story.  There was no sustenance for us in all that protection and so-called safety.  We were starving to death.  We saw a few atrocities, people turning on each other, but most of the time it was just a slow, lingering death of the soul: adherents trying to keep people from straying, unhappy and/or self-righteous people trapped by their own acceptance of things the way they were, with no desire strong enough for something more, no desire that would cause them to question their reason for being there and doing what they were doing.  So many people around us were living in fear, in a siege mentality (us versus them) and distrusting anything against which they had been indoctrinated, hell-bent (yes, that was intentional) on obeying the rules and excluding those who didn't. 

And it was like that everywhere. We had attended dozens of assemblies and it was the same wherever we went.  We had tried to fit in, but in every single place, we were eventually relegated to the role of the leper.  Either because we were not of a certain social or economic stratum, or because we were introverted, or because we were not linked with the founding families of the particular assembly we were in, we were slowly but surely kept at arm's length, treated like ... like lepers.  

But our isolation only gave us more time to think, to ponder how, in a community that stated that it followed the teachings of the One who is Love personified, the behaviour of its members was anything but - and we were as affected by this phenomenon as the next member. There were occasional bright spots, surprising us with kindness and caring (but only when someone died). Or there were brief periods associated with the arrival and ministry of people who seemed to hear from God, and for a time, we thought things might change.  But inevitably, they went on to greener pastures, and we were back to the same old thing. We wondered if things would ever change for good.

We compared the characteristics of this organization to those of the organism that the church was designed to be (as described in the book of Acts) and we could find nothing in common between the two!  "Is this all there is?" we asked ourselves.  "Is this the abundant life?"  If it was - we surely wanted a refund.... and if it wasn't ... then what were we doing? was there any way out?  Time and time again we tried to conform ourselves to what was expected, rededicate ourselves, and influence the system from the inside out.  And over and over again, we depleted our limited emotional resources; every time, we died a little more.  

Frustration grew.  Countless times we returned from church-based events stressed, exhausted, and - well - angry.   Sermons (both from the pulpit and in unofficial settings) from various people were little more than steam blown off by those frustrated with the people who sat back and never tried, so all we heard was, "You're not doing enough, not believing enough, not giving enough, not praying enough, not holy enough, not evangelical (or missional, or social justice-minded) enough ..." and the list went on.  I remember turning to my husband at one point near the end of that part of our journey and saying, "If I want to be yelled at and taken on a guilt trip, I'll go visit my mother."   

And the siege mentality!  That idea that the world is a horrible place and the people in it are against us permeated everything.  We were told that certain people with certain lifestyles or beliefs were not to be trusted, or at best they were deluded and needed to be converted.  Instead of reaching out to people, we were encouraged to lobby local school boards, write to politicians, sign petitions, support groups known for heavy-handed prejudicial treatment of certain minority groups, and decry perfectly legal medical procedures (if horrific to our sensibilities and beliefs) and vehemently condemn those who chose to undergo them.  In doing so, we were unwittingly contributing to their mistrust of the church and ensuring that they would not come to us for help when they needed a listening ear.  

Photo "Ruined House"
courtesy of sattva at
www.freedigitaphotos.net

All around us, the walls were crumbling.  More and more, we were seeing how our participation in this organization was counter-productive to the values of love, acceptance, and gentleness that Jesus taught and that we espoused.  We got closer and closer to the gate of this impoverished and starving community.  "Just hang on. It will get better," people said.  "Revival is just around the corner." We bought it for years ... until we didn't. 

And when we made the break, it had to be clean.  We left; we did not look back. We left our assembly, and we left the system. 

And you know, we expected to feel guilty... or afraid, or nervous for what we would do or where God would lead us next (if anywhere)... but all we felt was relief.  There was relief.  As the weeks passed, we remarked how much less stressful Sundays were, how much we enjoyed being able to rest instead of tearing our hair out and banging our heads against a brick wall for five hours or more almost every weekend. Our relationship with our daughter deepened. God set up contacts with people in His timing, and we had such precious times with them, times that we never would have had if we hadn't ventured outside the gate.   

There are times that we wonder if we did the right thing.  There are times when we miss frequent contact with people, wonderful people.  But we know that we were having our souls sucked out of us by the system.  Outside, we may not have found any bountiful banquet yet, but we can detect the faint odor of food, and we know we'll eventually find it.  And you can bet that as soon as we do, it will be way too good to keep to ourselves.

He GETS me!

You know those occasions (like Christmas or birthdays or maybe even Father's / Mother's Day or anniversaries) when you get gifts? You hint around at what you would like to get - things you need but you don't really think to get for yourself because you're too busy meeting everyone else's needs. Then the day comes, and you start opening your gifts, and find out that some people got the hints - and you are grateful - but then there is this one gift that you never would have expected, but the moment you lay eyes on it, you know that the giver SO totally "gets" you. 

The last time that happened to me, I had hinted (and sometimes even told) what I was looking for - and I got that (and I was grateful!) But I got more. Someone thought about me, about what I like to do (write!), and gave me a gift that touched my heart. It didn't cost much (didn't have to!) but the thought and love behind it was so evident. 

For the curious among you - it was a bound journal.  I hadn't used one in ages ... and here it was - beautifully bound and decorated, and inside there were what looked like calligraphy designs on the corners of the pages. With the journal was a set of fine-tipped pens with coloured ink. That very night, I started writing in my journal - the beginning of a personal chronicle of a spiritual journey. 

More and more I am seeing spiritual parallels as I ponder the goodness and love of God. Scriptures I have known all of my adult life pop into my head with fresh meaning:

"He has made us accepted in the Beloved [One]." 
"He is able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we can ask or think..." 
"While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us."
"He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world..."
"He has [already] given to us all things that pertain to life and godliness..."
"We love Him because He first loved us." 
"I have engraved you on the palms of My hands..." 
"Nothing shall separate us from the love of God...no created thing shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is [embodied in] Christ Jesus..."
"No one will be able to pluck [you] out of My hand..."
"God is love."
"For God SO loved he world that He gave His only begotten Son..."
"In this is love - not that we loved Him but that He first loved us, and gave His life..."
"God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself."

You get the idea. These truths are personalized gifts from Someone who so totally GETS US. He understands our deepest needs and desires, and has already provided for every possibility that will ever exist.  EVERY possibility.  Sin, failure, rejection, rebellion, you name it, He's got it covered. ALL of it. All of your stuff, all of my stuff, forever. Forever. To infinity plus one times infinity! 

The old notion of god as the guy with the club in his hand waiting to punish us if we step out of line is disappearing. In his place is God who is love, reconciling the world to Himself AS JESUS, showing us how much He loves, the lengths to which He would go to get our attention and help us understand how much He has loved us the whole time. He GETS us - He made us and then He became one of us to let us KNOW that He gets us. The more I concentrate on this God, the more the railings and thrashings of those who claim to be His ... just don't make sense.  

Photo "Hand Of Child And Father"
courtesy of winnond at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Could it be that God cares far less about who is running the countries of the world and far more about Who we run to - not out of fear but out of a realization of how much, how deeply He loves us?? has ALWAYS loved us? even before the world began, knowing that humans wouldn't "get" Him, STILL choosing to say, "Let there be light"?? He's a relational God. He wants to be in a love relationship with His creation. He always HAS.

There's a thought. Down through history, there have been people who have grasped this truth of God being relational. Abram knew it - from the moment God spoke to him and told him to leave his roots behind - Abram knew (or perhaps learned shortly thereafter) that God was after relationship - and he was called "the friend of God." Why? because he obeyed? No, not primarily - it was because he 'believed God' (not that he believed God did this or that, but rather that God WAS (is) everything that the human heart desires.)  King David knew it - even with his warmongering attitude (which God called him out on, remember the temple?) - he totally "got" that God loved him, and that He could be talked to, trusted, and loved in return. Because he "got" that, he was called "a man after God's own heart."  Not because he went around killing Philistines or whoever, but because he understood that God loved him, and he had a love relationship with his Creator as a result. 

One day, Jesus told His listeners what the greatest commandment IN THE LAW was - to love God with all one's heart, mind, soul and strength (and the second - as a bonus - was to love one's neighbour as oneself.)  That was the greatest in the LAW. But He also said that He came to fill up the Law ... not to destroy it but to make it unnecessary ... because He would overflow us, to take away the stony hearts and give us hearts of flesh, as when Aslan breathed on the stone statues in the witch's garden and brought them back to life. Again, He also said, "A new commandment I give to you - that you love one another as I have loved you." (emphasis mine).  

Okay, let's look at that. Back up the truck past the commandment (which everyone focuses on) to the way in which He helps us keep it ... "as I have loved you." Put another way, He is saying... "Let Me love you, totally, completely, unconditionally, and once you do, you will [automatically] love one another out of your overflowing love for Me."  Doesn't that resonate, vibrate in your hearts as it does mine? As John (the beloved disciple) said, "...His commandments are not burdensome." (1 Jn 5:13). Now, the only way I know of that the statement, "His commandments are not burdensome" would be true would be if we WANT to do them .. and the only motivation that I can think of that would make me WANT to obey a commandment (because I HATE being told what to do) is if I have experienced His love and goodness for myself - not just a mental assent but a heart-revelation.  

None of this "Well, we're supposed to love so we'll just grit our teeth and do it..." stuff. Contrary to popular Christian myth, love - although it may involve an act of the will - is not primarily so.  Love is a FEELING. (How many of us would have said "Yes" when our spouse proposed marriage if there were no feeling at all? if we had to grit our teeth and let him put the ring on?)

Yikes. There's a radical thought: Jesus as Someone proposing marriage - but that is exactly what He does. It's to that kind of love-relationship that He has called our spirits - the unseen part of us that makes us who we are, that part of us that will leave our bodies when we die. And yet He wants us to open our hearts, our spirits to Him and let Him love us. Now. Eternity is NOW. It's NEVER "later." 

These are some of the thoughts I have been having as I ponder His love for myself.  I challenge you to spend some time today considering the depth, the passion of His unconditional love. Just try it.

In between

I'm neither here nor there, neither in the groove nor out of it, neither on the road nor aimlessly wandering. 

I am in between. 

It's an empty place - a quiet space - almost a vacuum. Between what I have known and what I will know, I am in that curious state of nothingness that begs for an answer, a voice, an activity, anything to fill that void. 

It is a dangerous place - an eerie space - more silent than a whisper, and just as elusive. It's uncomfortable. I am tempted to go back to what was, what I knew, not because it is a better place, but simply because I know it, and I know what to expect. Yet because I know what to expect, I dread moving backward in that all-too-familiar direction. Too long I have wallowed in its mediocrity and sameness. Yet the future - bright and glittering- is unreachable, shiny, taunting me with its promises of a better life, whatever that means. 

It looks as though I am stuck here - here in the present, here in the in-between. Here the echoes of what was ... are too loud, and the promise of what will be ... is too far off to provide any satisfaction. 

This is the void. This is the awkward silence, the silence of 'becoming'. 

It is empty ... and dangerous ... and absolutely essential. Here I can ask myself the tough questions from which I have been hiding. Who am I? Why am I here? Is this all there is? Is what I have known all that will ever be? Can I not hope for something more? Will I ever stop feeling so lifeless? Where is the joy I was promised? Can I ever learn to listen for - and hear - that still small Voice again? 

Other voices clamour around me to fill that silence with uplifting music, with many words, with groanings and fervent prayer, with busy-work. Yet the only sound my soul makes is that of a small, frightened child - so frightened that she dare not make a sound or she will be discovered. I hear the rapid beating of my own heart, as if I have stepped off a cliff with no assurance that anything will be there to keep me from falling to my death. There are moments of abject terror - of a panic so great that it steals my breath from my lungs.

The questions continue, go deeper, persist in spite of the pleadings of some part of me for them to stop. But they don't. Where did the Light go? Will I ever see it again? Why is it that others seem so satisfied with the status quo ... and I do not? Do I really know what it is that I am looking for? If I don't, then how will I know it when I see it? (Or WILL I see it?) 

This hurts. It's painful. I can't describe it well enough; only those who have been here will understand. I can talk to them, and they can encourage me to persevere, but it seems I can't make anyone else understand. "Why are you so dissatisfied?" I hear them say in my mind. "Why are you putting yourself through this?"

Nobody wants to hear about this place. They want me to be as I was, or they want me to be as I will be. They are just as uncomfortable with this awkward place in my life as I am - perhaps even more so. Everyone wants the finished product, something recognizable, something to point to and either pray for or praise God for. Not this. Not the transition. Not the uncertainty. Not the pain. Oh most definitely not the pain. 

I know that so many will not understand.  This fact tears at the fabric of my being, for I have spent my whole life trying to do whatever I could to make people approve of me, to like me, to hear me, to understand me. Yet I know - I KNOW - that so many people will think that I am sick, or sad, or crazy, or backslidden, or ... or whatever they will think. Yet I am so desperate for answers that I must face the monster of "What will people think?" and put it to death in my life. I must exist in this place of emptiness, of the void, no matter what people think.

This, THIS is in between. This is not comfortable. Yet it's all I know right now. Like the caterpillar in its chrysalis, I am being de-consructed; the person I was is no longer the person I am. I am being changed; into what, I do not know. It is too soon to tell. I am only beginning.

All I know for sure is that it will be different. Just how different, or what form it will take, is completely unknown to me. The only One who knows is the One who compelled me to enter this place, this space where all else fades away ... except change.

Until Morning

This week has been a sad one. 

Two wonderful ladies I've known for a very long time both passed away this week.

The first was one of the first women to take me under her wing when I first started exploring the world of the Spirit-filled life, about 32 years ago. Jean was ... unique. There was such an inner thrill in her - and it didn't take long to figure out why. Her joy when she sensed God moving in someone's life just bubbled out of her like large bubbles coming up to the surface from deep inside. Her passion for people to be free, her perseverance and power in prayer, and her willingness to do whatever God said, when He said, for however long He said, was phenomenal. 

The thing I'll miss most about her, though, is the way she would give what I came to call her "holy hugs."  She'd wrap her arms around me and start to pray in the Spirit ... then she'd sense God's presence and she'd start to chuckle, a low, deep sound that reminded me of toffee cooking on the stove. She'd squeeze tighter as her joy just overflowed; I couldn't help but be touched. 

The same thing would happen when she hugged others as well. Her joy was contagious; people couldn't help but be affected. 

When I heard that she had passed away this past week, I felt sad - not for her but for me. She is happier, freer than she's ever been. But down here won't quite be the same without her.

Photo "Lighthouse At Sunset" by
Serge Bertasius Phtography at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Then, this morning, I learned that the second lady had passed away last Friday. I've known this woman for even longer than I knew Jean. 

Elma and her late husband were what I think of when I use the term "salt of the earth." Generous, giving, and accepting, she was in the running to become my mother-in-law at one point (yes, I dated her son for a while) and although nothing ever came of it, I always felt privileged to have met her and her husband, and held a special place in my heart for their whole family. 

She and her husband were so kind to me when I was pregnant with Arielle - and so sick I could barely drag myself out of bed, much less care for a toddler. When I was at my lowest ebb (hours away from being hospitalized for severe dehydration) they came over here and looked after our oldest, did housework and never expected any payment at all.... while I sat on the sofa and cried with mixed helplessness and gratitude. It was just what they did. They did what they could to bless people. And it worked. We were blessed ... beyond belief.

Our girls considered them their honorary grandparents. There was just something about Elma - sweet and humble and gentle, soft-spoken but yet respected (out of love) by her children. 

I will miss her.

Whenever someone passes away who is a believer, especially if that someone is special to me or to my loved ones, I have a habit of drawing something on that date on my calendar - the outline of a setting sun on the horizon. It reminds me of the old gospel song, "Sunset" - the chorus of which goes, "God paints the clouds in the evening sky to show me the way to the palace on high, and stars mark the pathway lest my feet should roam; it's Sunset, and I'm going Home." 

The promise of Heaven is not a hope-so-maybe kind of hope. It's a "know-so" kind of hope - a calm assurance that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. I know that Jean and Elma are there - enjoying the bliss of being face-to-face with Jesus. They are in that Never-ending Day - where there is no darkness, no pain, no sorrow, no separation. 

Good night dear ladies. Rest well - enjoy - and I'll see you in the Morning.

Let's Go Now ... and See

Hubby was reading the Christmas story this morning before we opened our gifts. He reads it every year. Every year there is something, some word or phrase that jumps out at me.

This year it was in the account of the shepherds in Luke 2, after the angels left and they turned to one another, eyes still blinking in amazement, voices still tremulous in awe.

"Let's go now [to Bethlehem] and see this thing which has come to pass.." (vs 15)

They didn't need to wait for the weekly service.
They didn't want to wait for anything. 
They said, Let's go NOW."

NOW. No more waiting. No more wondering when the prophecy would be fulfilled. No more hoping. 

NOW. No more pining away wishing that God would show up. 
He showed up!

And what an arrival! 

It wasn't in a palace somewhere, definitely not where the sages went looking for Him. Angels gave shepherds - the guys looking after the Passover lambs on the hillside - the first announcement. 

Photo "Sleeping Baby" courtesy of
Dynamite Imagery at
www.freedigitalimages.net

The King of the Universe became a baby, born to parents too poor to bribe someone for a room in a crowded city. Instead, He was wrapped in swaddling bands (strips of cloth, like grave-clothes a mummy would wear), placed in a stone manger - a hole in the rock (looking much like someone in a tomb) - and surrounded by the smell of barnyard animals. 



This well-known image tells me that He is :

• Approachable - Jesus invites intimacy. (A newborn baby's eyes focus best at ten inches from its face, and respond most to facial features).
• Gentle and humble - Jesus does not strike terror, but inspires tenderness. He comes alongside and doesn't tower over us like some god to be placated or appeased.
• Vulnerable - Jesus became fully human and felt the things we feel. He knew what it was like to be hungry, to be rejected, to get angry, and to grieve. He also could experience compassion and joy and the love of friends. He knows how we feel. He DOES.
• Committed - He was in this for the long haul. It's one thing to talk about love but quite another to express it, to show it. And in coming to us to carry out the Plan, He showed His commitment to us. 

"Let's go NOW" - the shepherds said. In other words, "Let's not delay this. This is IMPORTANT." This - meeting the Creator - is the most important meeting in the Universe.

Let's go now ... and SEE..." It's not enough to talk about Him. It's not enough to go and hear someone else talk about Him. He must be SEEN - there must be a personal encounter. Once there is, it's LIFE-CHANGING. At the moment we realize for our own selves what He came to do for us - not us as a whole species but EACH of us, personally, privately, individually - that is the moment when the Sovereign Lord (Adonai) becomes Emmanuel (God with us). 

That is when Heaven comes down, when He is born inside of us. God WITH us. God IN us. We are regenerated, re-created. 

There is joy. There is peace. There is acceptance. There is LOVE.

Let's go NOW and SEE.

Waiting for the rocks

One of my two favorite stories in the Gospels is the story of the woman caught in adultery.

We were discussing that story over breakfast. (A lot of times, posts on my blogs come from discussions I've had with people.) We'd been talking about how people form a relationship with Jesus. 

As many do, I suspect that this woman was a known adulteress, and that several of the Pharisees had availed themselves of her "services" before. They saw her as an object, a great way to relieve some tension before going home to critical, demanding wives (don't get me started). But in her they began to see a great way to set a trap for Jesus - and their "valuing" of her turned to betrayal. (How do I know this? because the Law said that both the woman and the man should be stoned; where was the guy???) 

They dragged her, naked, through the streets. They thrust her down in front of Jesus. "Rabbi! [don't you love how they toss that term around when they mean anything but that?] This woman was caught in the very act of adultery. The law of Moses says that such as these should be stoned. What do YOU say?"  (Read the story in John 8.)

The question was asked; the trap was set. 

And Jesus said nothing. 

The woman was crouched in the fetal position, sobbing, trying to escape as much public humiliation as possible. She fully expected the stones (big, heavy projectiles, not little pebbles!) to start flying any minute; she'd seen stonings before. Everyone had. 

He squatted on the ground beside her; He wrote things in the dust. What He wrote, we are not told. When pressed for an answer to their cleverly-designed question, He said simply (and this is how it appears in the Greek) "Whoever among you is without this sin, let him be the first to throw a stone." 

The Bible tells us that they dropped their rocks and split. Okay, it says that they left one at a time, beginning with the older ones, until all of them were gone.

Let's use our sanctified imaginations at this juncture. Here is the scene: A ring of robed men with big rocks in their hands, Jesus and the woman in the middle. Jesus is squatting and writing on the ground. The woman is sobbing in the fetal position with her head in her hands (as I've described) fully expecting the arrival of the first rock. 

She hears a rock hit the ground. She thinks it missed her. Her breath catches. 

One by one, the rocks fall to the ground as the Sanhedrin members realize their trap wasn't quite so clever after all, and they leave, convicted by their own consciences (possibly helped along by what Jesus was writing on the ground?)  And the crowd that gathered around them hushes. 

Jesus turns to the woman. "Where are your accusers? doesn't ANYONE condemn you?" 

And she looks around in wonder at the circle of rocks where the robed ones once stood. "No-one, Sir." 

The love in His voice was unmistakable. "Neither do I." 

Freeze frame right there. Before He says, "Go and sin no more," stop and think about what "I don't condemn you," means. 

Had she sinned? Oh yes.  Did she deserve death? According to the law of Moses, yes. Her lifestyle was totally exposed for all to see who were there. 

But He didn't condemn her. 

Photo "Stone And Sand Background" courtesy of
gubgib at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

She was waiting for the rocks to hit her. She'd been hit by hundreds of rocks before - all the dirty looks people gave her every day on the street felt like rocks hitting her soul. The way mothers shielded their children's eyes as they walked by the street-corner, the way men would leer at her, the contempt she saw when she passed by the scribes and priests in the outer court of the temple, all felt like sharp projectiles striking her, judging her, wounding her. 

I've felt those sharp rocks, those disapproving looks, those judgments from other people. I've felt the hot sting of shame for things over which I felt I had no control: my family, my socio-economic class, my (former and current) lifestyle, my parenting choices, and the list goes on. Each is an emotional stone - and does damage to the one it hits. The emotional rocks make the inner prison walls stronger, the sense of helplessness and hopelessness more intense. There is no escape.

Each of those sharp emotional rocks had made their mark on her ... every bit as real as the "real" rocks ... and now there was this day. This day she was sure she was going to feel the physical rocks hit her body. This is the day her life would end. She knew it.

And yet ... there they all are. The rocks are on the ground. She looks around and tries to grasp the idea that the Man before her actually saved her life - and restored her dignity. She looks up and sees the love and compassion in His eyes. For her. 

It rescues her. It sets her free. 

"I don't condemn you." Those words of forgiveness make her into a new person, one who doesn't want to live that lifestyle of shame anymore. He took her shame away, and gave her a clean slate.

Now. NOW, doesn't "Go, and sin no more" sound more like, "Here, let Me take off those chains. You're FREE!" than it does "Go study the rulebook and get your life straightened up"??

It sure does to me.