... and the crick don't rise

"A man's heart devises his way, but the LORD directs his steps." - Prov. 16:3

"... you ought to say, 'If the Lord wills, we will live, and do this or that.'..." - James 4:15

An old tag (end of sentence) goes, "be the good Lord willin' and the crick don't rise." Folks said it after planning to meet again next week or next month, etc. The saying was an acknowledgement that nobody is promised more than the moment they are living in, and that God is sovereign. By sovereign, I mean that He chooses what happens in spite of our plans. Sometimes the things we plan happen, and sometimes they don't. Either way, it is God who decides how things will play out.

I have had constant reminders of this fact the last couple of years, mostly to do with my schooling. A planned practicum in the fall of 2018 led to a failed practicum and me having to put it off until the following fall, looking for a new site. Once I found one that was perfect, things were in place when all of a sudden one of the main participants became very ill, and needed to extricate himself from all non-essential commitments. Thus, again, I had to defer my practicum.

Photo by misterfarmer at Pixabay

And now it is 2020. By God's grace, the arrangement from last year has held, tentatively, since nobody knows what life will look like later this year (with COVID-19 being such a reality in our world). But even before the virus, I determined to hold such things lightly, and to leave the final decision to the Only One who sees the end from the beginning. It's an exercise in faith for sure!

As I've been preparing for "whatever God has" (as my formerly sick mentor put it recently), I've been doing some reading about the call of God to each believer to 'incarnate Christ' (yes, used as a verb!) to those around us who may be in need of His help. That requires that I have a vibrant and vital relationship with Jesus. More and more I am seeing how I have needed this time of waiting in order to step back from all I thought I knew, and to re-learn how I can be an instrument in God's hands. I am called to be the embodiment of Jesus to those who need to see Him and know Him in a more intimate way. I am one of His ambassadors - called to act on His behalf the way He would: with love, acceptance, and compassion.

And thank God, I have the power to do that - as do all believers - because of the indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit. Without Him, I would be totally unequal to such a task.  This isn't just words. It's breath ... life ... living. I'm challenged to seek His glory above my own. I'm willing to open myself to Him in intimacy. All those things I have always wanted as a believer can be realities as long as I align myself with His desire for me: a love-bond with Him. Only then can I be a part of the overflow of His presence into others' lives at their point of need.

I truly hope that "the crick don't rise" this time.  And I know that even if it does, He's got this.

He always has.

In Everything

"Be anxious for nothing, but
in everything, by prayer and supplication
with thanksgiving, make your requests

known to God." - Philippians 4

The above verse came to my mind today as I reviewed my Facebook news feed. So many people are so freaked out over this coronavirus "COVID-19" even though our little province has had only 27 cases, all travel-related, and all recovered with NO hospitalizations. Be that as it may, I am not one to deny the potential dangers of the virus, nor am I one to pooh-pooh medical directives to wear masks and keep washing my hands and avoid touching my face. 

What I am most concerned with, however, is the tendency of people to say that they trust in God and yet they continue to obsess about what others are doing to endanger their own health (by political decisions to allow snowbirds who have properties here into the province, or to allow more than 5 people at a time to get together, for example).

That's when I think of Philippians 4 - and meditate on what that means for me. I see a number of things that I can apply to this very situation.

First, don't worry.  Worry only robs you of the moment, of enjoying the present. It does nothing to change the situation. Worry is actually bad for folks because it raises hormone levels that cause people to gain weight and to be more depressed and anxious. Besides, the actions of others are out of my control; I can only control what I do, not what others do. So it is fruitless to worry.

Second, pray in everything. Not just about everything, but IN everything - in the midst of the problem, bring it to God. Bring your anxiety, bring the whole situation, and how you feel about it, to God.

Free image by geralt at Pixabay.com

Third, and perhaps most important, pray with asking AND thanksgiving. "Supplication" is just a fancy way to say asking or requesting. But this requesting is not the oh-please-please-please kind, the kind that has very little trust in the goodness of God. It isn't like someone making a petition to their boss or to their premier. Rather, it is the act of a child asking something from a loving father. It trusts in the Father's love, in His character, in His goodness. It's the kind that says, "I ask You for this and I trust You that You will do what is best, so I thank You for whatever You decide to do." It is the prayer that leaves the outcome to God's loving care, and lets go of the desire to influence how things turn out.  It is the prayer of faith, not in the outcome, but in God Himself.

No other kind of prayer will calm the spirit. I know, because I have seen the kind of prayer that doesn't thank God for His decision. I remember as a child seeing my mom praying on her knees, crying and worrying on her knees, for a loved one. And when she got up from her knees she would still worry and fret, and be torn up, about the situation or the person she just prayed for. It did her no good and it did that person no good either. I know that, because the person she was praying for was me. All her prayers did was make me feel shame. I saw no faith there. I only saw a pitiful person worrying on her knees. It disgusted me. It made me not want to have anything to do with a God who couldn't be trusted to look after her OR me. (Of course, later, I came to understand that this wasn't what God was like. But it wasn't my mom who taught me that.)

Prayer IN everything WITH thanksgiving liberates the person who prays. It removes the responsibility for the outcome from that person's shoulders and places it on God's, where it belongs in the first place. It is an act of trust, not of fear. It honours God. It does not insult His grace and goodness. And it results in peace, not more anxiety.

That's the kind of peace I want. That's the kind of God I serve. I am overwhelmed by His loving care for me and for all of those who reach out to Him in faith, trusting His goodness and His grace. So when I pray - which I doubt if I'm ever NOT praying as it's a conversation with God - I listen for His heart, let go of what I can't change myself, and trust Him to either change those other things or help me to accept what is. And He does, simple as that. He does.

It's so freeing.

Tetelestai = completed

A lot of my blog ideas come from conversations over breakfast with my husband. Today's conversation had to do with how Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing," when He was being crucified. 

Many people think that this was because of the cruel things that were happening to Him. But that wasn't all of it. The more important part was that these people were the instruments through which the sacrifice for our sins were being made. They were sacrificing the Passover Lamb. This was a sacred moment - and they didn't realize the sanctity of what they were doing. In this context, Jesus' "forgive them" makes a lot more sense. 

Which brings me to Jesus' last STATEMENT from the cross. Keep in mind that every time He wanted to say something, He had to take a breath. To take a breath, He had to push down all of His weight on the spike driven through both of His ankles - an excrutiating prospect. And yet what He said was not so much a cry of relief but of accomplishment, of triumph. 

You see, the Greek word that is translated "It is finished" in some translations was a Greek business term, meaning "Completed!"  It referred to a transaction where someone paid in full for something they were purchasing.  The transaction was completed, accomplished, finished: there was nothing more that needed to be done because everything was finished. 

Put into spiritual terms, every sin: past, present, and future, once and for all, was paid for, in one huge transaction - at Calvary. As soon as it was completed, Jesus cried out that it was finished, and then committed His spirit to the Father's hands. And then He died. 

And to show that His transaction was accepted, God raised Him from the dead on the third day. 

Free Illustration by TheDigitalArtist at Pixabay

Nothing better than having your parking validated after you've spent all your resources!! :D

Tetelestai. The price is paid.
Tetelestai. The way has been made.
Tetelestai. Nothing more to do.
Tetelestai. For me, and for you.  
-- (c) Judy Gillis, 2020-03-19

Salvation is not something that we own. Jesus bought and paid for it; it is HIS. So He has the right to give it to whoever believes in what He accomplished. It's as simple as all that. Nothing we can do could ever pay that debt. But He could. And He did.

It is finished. Tetelestai. It is completed. Praise to God on High!!  
-- (Judy Gillis, 2020)

WAY COOL.

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. :)

Cease Striving

One of the hardest things there is to do is to do nothing. Right? We humans, especially in Western culture, have this notion that if we are not doing anything, we are unproductive and wasting our time. 

However, there is a wisdom and a peace to doing nothing. I am not talking about slacking off. I don't mean to sit cross-legged in a corner and let the world pass you by. What I mean is that the reaching, grasping, grabbing tendency that we have can actually end up with us losing what we so desire to have, like trying to keep a handful of sand by clenching it in our fists. 

It disappears. It slips between our fingers and spills on the ground. That is why doing nothing can be so wise. We try so hard to "make" something that we want to happen and we often end up making the opposite happen. 

Photo "Rows Of Butterfly Cocoons" courtesy of xura
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

I remember a sad story I heard once of a child who wanted to see a butterfly emerge from its cocoon. Day after day she watched this little motionless sack sitting there in front of her, and one day, the thing started moving and a split appeared in the cocoon. She was thrilled, and yet she saw the struggle the butterfly was having inside its prison. She decided to help it escape, and pulled the split wider so the creature could get out. Sadly, although the butterfly was now out, it just sat there with wet, small wings. The body of the butterfly needed that squeezing to activate it to pump bodily fluids (that it had stored for this day) into the wings. They were flimsy and limp as a result, even after they dried, and they could not bear the butterfly's weight.... And a butterfly who cannot fly cannot feed on nectar and therefore cannot live. 

"Be still," said the Psalmist (46:10). What he was saying was to cease striving, and to stop trying to make things happen. They will happen when they are meant to happen. The butterfly - or that desired outcome - will emerge on its own. It does not need our help. We can trust that it will happen if it is meant to do so. We can let go of our tendency to put our oar in. We can know that God is in control.

When we cease striving, peace comes. We can accept what happens and enjoy the moments in between where we are and what lies ahead. We can let go of our "if onlys" and our "I can't waits" ... and live in the present. We will be where we are without losing ourselves in the past or the future. We can look for the little joys: the beauty all around us, our favorite sounds, the taste of good food, and the feeling of a cool breeze on a hot day.

We can live each moment to the full. But we don't have to strain. All we need to do is to courageously let go of our impulse to do it ourselves or to hurry it along, and instead to let go and stop trying so hard.

Stay in the present. The future will happen without our help.

More Light

Earlier this summer, we decided to replace the doors in our house. 

It was no small change. The frames around the doors were so rotted that they also had to be replaced, so we thought that this was a good time to get doors that not only were more energy-efficient, but also more secure (with a built-in deadbolt) and that were attractive as well. 

We spent considerable time choosing a design that we could all agree upon, and finally settled on one that allowed us a bit more privacy (without the need for curtains) but that also let in more light.  It costed more, but the final effect has been so nice. 

The windows in the doors are partly made of pebbled glass - hence the privacy without the need for drapery (which also makes for more light) - but the edges of the glass pattern insert are made of beveled glass. That edging has had an effect that we did not anticipate: when the sun is shining through the glass, it acts like a prism, and we have cross-sections of rainbows in our home every sunny morning and every sunny afternoon. 

Photo "Heaven Light From Sun Behind Clouds"
courtesy of criminalatt at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Rainbows always speak to me of mercy - undeserved favor - and I remember the scripture in the Psalms that says something like, "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness..." 

It's funny, but the more I stay away from religious people (and by religious people I mean those typical folks that believe "God is good, I'm bad; I must try harder"), the more I can clearly see the mercy and grace of God in everyday occurrences, the lavish, extravagant love of God, and the fallacy of trying to earn brownie points. I spent a lifetime trying to make God like me more, never feeling like I measured up, never feeling as though I was doing "enough" - and living life on that endless hamster wheel of fear, performance, and shame. Since taking time away from that system to experience God and who He is rather than the system with its rules and regulations and rigidity, I realize more and more the absolute non-necessity of "doing" anything to curry favor with Him.  I am ALREADY favored. I am ALREADY loved to the Nth degree! Just as I am, period!  

It never gets old. The wonder never dims.  In such an atmosphere, absolute freedom isn't an excuse to indulge in guilty pleasures (as some might fear) but an opportunity to develop intimacy with the Almighty One ... and all that means is that I get to spend time with Him without the need to ask for anything because everything I need is already mine in Him. And that includes fellowship, (again contrary to what some might think). God sets up His appointments with others of like mind, far better than I could, and exactly when I need them, to enhance my journey with Him.  It is not forced; there is no structure. What a great gift that is to one whose life was regimented and bound up in the whole notion of fear of what someone else might think. Or the terror that somehow I could damage what God was trying to do if I didn't do a good enough job at ... whatever it was. 

This life is like reveling in beams of sunlight in prisms through the glass - a joyful, grateful, peaceful appreciation of His love. No more cringing. No more hamster wheel. No more reliance on my own strength. Just rest, relax, and let Him shine.

There is always more mercy, always more love, always more light. Always.

I See You

A few weeks ago, our family shared the movie "Avatar" with a friend who had never seen it.  It was wonderful to see the spectacular visual effects of the film again, and the story line was compelling.

Although some would look askance at me for even watching a film that glorifies a 'mother-earth' type religion, I find the connection that The Na'vi have with their deity Eywa extremely real; it touches every aspect of their lives.  The Na'vi come to accept Jake (the hero) as one of them - but not without some misunderstanding.  Jake is a paraplegic, but when he sleeps, his consciousness is in his Avatar body - in which he can interact with the Na'vi. They know from the outset that he is a 'dream-walker' - a human in Na'vi form, and yet because Eywa has chosen him (a powerful scene that literally saves his life), he is brought to the village and assigned a Na'vi guide or teacher so that he may learn their language and their ways (in other words, their culture).

One of the most striking things about the culture of the Na'vi is their greeting for each other: "I see you."  As one of Jake's cultural mentors tells him when he is awake, this is not merely physical vision but a seeing of the person, the spirit inside, the individual's heart or character, all that makes them who they are.  It implies an intimacy that in our culture is usually only reserved for family and close friends, but there is something inherently real and right about this kind of connection with each other that resonates with me.  There are no barriers, no pretenses, no fake smiles. They feel what they feel when they feel it and they are open with each other. I think it is all a part of how they interact with Eywa and with the world around them. As Jake learns to interact with Eywa as well as with his Na'vi teacher, he begins to "see" the Na'vi, and consider himself one of them, one of "the people." 

Photo "Eye" courtesy of graur codrin at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

The greeting "I see you" is one I have adopted in my relationship with my Creator. Prayer has now become for me more of a heart attitude or focus, a knowing that I am loved and heard, more like petals opening in the sunlight than a spewing volcano of pleading words, eyes tightly closed and fearing destruction or refusal. 

In the middle of the night, when I awake and all is dark, all I need to do now is to acknowledge the fact of His presence and of His love for me.  I know in my deepest heart that He "sees" me - knows me intimately, loves me passionately and completely - and my desire is to know Him progressively, to "see" Him in the same way. All that really stands in the way of that "seeing" is my own difficulty in becoming consistently aware of that vital connection. 

I've also started to use this expression with my family (that is, my husband and my daughter) from time to time.  It always brings a smile because they know what it means!  It means that I understand them, accept them completely, love to spend time with them, and so much more.  

Over the past year or so, my life has become so much more about experiencing and reflecting love, and so much less about rules and obligations.  That's not to say I don't relapse into the Abyss Of The Should, but when I spend time meditating on His love, I find that there is no need for The Should.  I naturally want to live every moment of my life in the light of that all-seeing, all-accepting, no-holds-barred love.  

The dirty little secret

Shame.  There, the secret is out.

It's everywhere.  At first, I was going to talk about the church - because there is a whole heaping lot of shame in the church, from Sunday school on upward into the sanctuary - ashamed people shaming people to make their own shame not seem so shameful. (Sighhh...)  But, truth be told, the church doesn't have a monopoly on it.  A better term would be (I suppose) religion - inclusive of pretty much all religion worldwide.  

Or maybe it goes even deeper than that.  Maybe it's part of human nature.

Ouch.

Shame is always, ALWAYS evil.   It is pervasive: it slinks in like a venomous snake and yes, it can kill! (Check the suicide rates!)  It ruins everything it touches.  Moreover, it touches everything ... and it is the hardest poison to eradicate from our psyches because it runs so deep.

Listen to what Dr. Brené Brown says about shame:

I define shame as the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging – something we’ve experienced, done, or failed to do makes us unworthy of connection. 

I don’t believe shame is helpful or productive. In fact, I think shame is much more likely to be the source of destructive, hurtful behavior than the solution or cure. I think the fear of disconnection can make us dangerous.  

-- from http://brenebrown.com/2013/01/14/2013114shame-v-guilt-html/

Photo "Chain and Hand" courtesy of
worradmu at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Dr. Brown also said in one of her writings (sorry, Dr. Brown, I can't remember exactly which one! :(  ) that the difference between guilt and shame is the difference between "I DID something bad." and "I AM bad."  That's an important distinction to make!

Would it surprise you to know that according to the Bible, we are not created to feel shame?  Check out Genesis 2:25 (this was before the great temptation) "Now the man and his wife were both naked, but they felt no shame." (NLT)  This was life the way God intended - shameless (that is no shame, not even a conception of shame) because of a loving relationship with the Creator.  

And yet the first thing that the first people did when they did the first thing wrong was jump past guilt ... to shame.  Genesis 3:7 - "At that moment their eyes were opened, and they suddenly felt shame at their nakedness.  So they sewed fig leaves together to cover themselves." (NLT)  

Shame is a human construct.  Humans created shame - not by disobeying (as is the common teaching) but by believing that God - who had only ever loved them - would stop loving them as persons if they messed up.  

And we have been doing that ever since.  Not only that, but we have been doing it to each other ever since.  The moment we suddenly believed that love had conditions: ifs, shoulds, and musts ... was the moment we, both as a race and as individuals (including Christians) fell from grace.  Grace is the highest, the best, the ultimate position; the moment we add conditions to it, we have slipped back into eating the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil (aka morality) and all the judgment of self and others that goes with that.  And that, friends, is shame.  We have convinced ourselves that we are (or someone else is) "unworthy of connection" (B. Brown, see quote above).  

Shame naturally makes us want to do two things: (a) cover our own perceived inadequacies to make ourselves feel better (thus making it easier to point the finger at someone else), and (b) hide from what we think will be certain punishment.  I often wonder what would have happened if Adam and Eve had just admitted what they had done without trying to pass the buck.  I guess there's no knowing that for sure - but knowing God's love as I am starting to - things might have turned out differently for them.

We - like them - underestimate the love of God and turn it into a contract: we do this and He does that.  It's not like that at all.  He loves.  No matter what we do, how far we go, He loves us and is delighted in us.  He has already redeemed us, loved us without measure from before the foundation of the world, embraced us before we even knew He was there.  It's a fact, not dependent on our behaviour but dependent on His character, even more dependable than the sunrise.

Unconditional love kills shame.  Oh, that we could understand how deep this goes!  

In the words of a song I learned once, 

Chains be broken, lives be healed,
Eyes be opened, Christ is revealed.

            - - "You'll Come" - by Brooke Ligertwood (Hillsong)

Yes. Yes!  Chains ... be broken!

The Key of Knowledge

I was reading in the Word trying to find something specific earlier today (isn't this how God sometimes grabs our attention? well, He does it to me sometimes), when I stumbled on a rather vitriolic passage in Luke where Jesus was lambasting the Pharisees and the 'lawyers' (i.e., the experts in Mosaic law). It was the climax of His diatribe against (or warning to) these people.

"Woe to you lawyers (* = teachers of the law)!  For you have taken away the key of knowledge; you yourselves did not enter, and you hindered those who were entering.”
  - Luke 11:59

Now, I've grown up in the organized church, and spent all of my life in that milieu. That expression, 'the key of knowledge' had always been preached to mean knowledge in the sense of accumulating knowledge about, or studying, or possibly moral wisdom. It's why we went to Sunday school, to learn 'about God.' It's why we were encouraged to memorize scriptures, to increase our knowledge, to know right from wrong and choose the right. It carries with it the feeling of following the rules in order to keep from being punished. 

But that is not what this word is talking about. I went to Strong's Concordance and discovered that this knowledge - the key to which the teachers of the law, the clergy of Jesus' day, had "taken away" - is translated from the Greek word gnosis or 'deeper or more perfect knowledge'... which is derived from another Greek root word  ginosko  ... common language for the ultimate act of intimacy within a marriage. 

Photo "Couple At Sunset"
courtesy of piyaphantawong at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Oh my. 

That brings a whole new meaning to this passage, doesn't it?  

Jesus was angry and so very saddened by how the religious teachers of His day didn't "get" the intended message of knowing God intimately, and not only did they not "get" it, they made it impossible for people to access that kind of information so that THEY could have any kind of relationship with God. 

Basically their lives sucked, and they wanted everyone else's lives to suck as much as theirs. And because they were in a position of leadership, and people looked to them for guidance, they succeeded in laying so much bondage on people, and making what should have been a free and beautiful relationship into a loveless, lifeless contract marked by a whole laundry list of dos and don'ts, with threats of punishment if they did not toe the line. 

I'm not pointing fingers.  The point here is not who is a Pharisee and who isn't. The point is not whether this or that pastor, this or that denomination is misguided at best.  No ... the point is that God wants to have a gloriously intimate, personal relationship with each of us. Jesus was all about that... because He knew that there was joy in it for us - and for Him. He knew that us living in fear was no way to live at all. He came to bring freedom so that people could actually BE FREE. 

And the key to that freedom is a growing intimacy with God. 

It isn't about whether we eat this or that, or drink this or that, or go here or there, or sing this or that, or say this or that. It is about allowing God into the deepest parts of us, those places nobody else is allowed to (or has a right to) go, letting Him express His delight in us, letting Him "know" us - in the most intimate way. Only in that deep knowledge, that total acceptance of His lavish love, that realization that He is for us and wants to pour out His love into and upon us, is there real peace and purpose and passion and power. That is true living. That is the moment-by-moment adventure.

That knowing (ginosko - or intimate knowing) is what Jesus was referring to when He said that in that 'day' of reckoning He would say (to those calling out "Lord, Lord...."), .... "I never knew you. Depart from Me..." (Mt 7:23)  He meant that two-becoming-one union, the kind that is only possible when we open up the most private parts of our selves to His love. He meant, in essence, "You never let Me intimately know you." 

What a sad indictment! How much we have missed!! How small and puny our conception of God has become because we (in our arrogant insistence upon our own unworthiness and fearing His vengeance) dare not entertain the thought of the exceeding greatness of His love and grace! That love is the starting place of the journey; that is the pinnacle.

We are already there, if we but knew (accepted, opened ourselves to) it. He has already made a place for us in His lap - His arms are open wide and that spot, that special spot on His shoulder is aching for us to nestle in there and hear His heart beat for - and with - ours. 

Can we not hear His call? It is sweet, sad, yearning. It echoes in our own hearts and resonates in our own longing for something "more."  Let's press in. 

I dare you. Let's open ourselves to Him. Let's let Him in.

Light and Easy

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” - Mt. 11: 28-30, Message (emphasis mine)

I've been doing a lot of thinking and meditating lately about the kind of Life Jesus intended to give us, a life of freedom, one delivered from the burdens of religious ritual and meaningless mantras, one of passion and purpose and peace. 

He used the picture of the yoke in the above passage (I just used the paraphrase for clarity's sake, and because I love the phrase "the unforced rhythms of grace." What a picture of freedom - but that is another post for another time!)  

The yoke is a time-honored traditional way to harness the strength of two powerful beasts (be they horses or oxen) to accomplish a given task. The yoke is essentially a cross-piece that is laid across the necks of two animals. The farmer would attach the middle of the yoke to a pole through a ring or a rope, and attach the other end of the pole to a plow or some other farming tool. He would either walk behind the plow or put his weight on it to drive it into the ground and make the plow dig deeper into the earth. All the animals had to do was walk together.

Drawing "Farmer And Horses Plowing Field Oval Etching"
courtesy of vectorolie at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I've seen this happen. When I was growing up, my uncle had two draft horses that he put together in a contraption very much like a yoke ... and he would come and "horse-hoe" our potatoes. This was a necessary task, because it loosened the dirt around the potatoes and allowed them more room to grow, and it also covered the maturing potatoes with more soil so that they didn't get sunburned. In addition, it was a hundred times faster than hoeing the rows by hand.

I used to love to watch the two mares do their work because well, I happen to love horses ... and this was as good an excuse as any to get out of the house and away from the detested task of washing the dishes (that's hilarious to my husband by the way... but I digress.)  It amazed me to see how they seemed to communicate with each other as they went about their work; they knew what had to be done and I could see them looking at one another, happy in each other's company. The work was secondary. They got to spend time together. When one would stumble, the other would slow down and steady the harness until the other one fell back into step with her.

Now, here are a few fun (if random) facts.

• "Beasts of burden" (and people, by the way) can pull way more than they can carry.
• Each yoke was adjusted (or even constructed) to fit the specific animals perfectly.
• The farmer would yoke animals of the same size together because they would pull better if they were on the same level. The burden became awkward and harder to pull if the animals weren't the same size and strength.
• The animals who worked together would hang out together in the pasture more often.
• If there was a less experienced animal, the farmer would harness or yoke it together with an older, more experienced one (again, of the same size) so that the younger would learn techniques of pulling and of turning from the older, thus decreasing the workload and getting the job done faster.

Okay, here's the thing. When Jesus talked about being "heavy laden" (as the KJV puts it) He was talking about a totally different contraption - something like a pack that a mule would carry on its back, held on with a girth much like a saddle has. People would load up the pack on the animal's back with burdens that were too heavy for humans to carry ... and sometimes the load became way too much for even the animal to carry. The SAME LOAD if pulled by two animals was NOTHING compared to one trying to carry it in its own strength. Consistently heavy-laden animals didn't last as long as teamed animals who pulled. The knees and backs of heavy-laden animals would give out and they would eventually have to be destroyed. 

The "weary and heavy-laden" that Jesus was talking about, then, were people who were burning out, trying to fulfill all the teensy tiny laws, all the "shoulds" and "oughtas" that were placed on them by the religious leaders. Do this, don't do that, don't touch that, don't eat that - and - oh my goodness don't go there and eat with that person! ... etc. 

Enter the Light and Easy yoke. Jesus came so that all those heavy burdens could be put behind us. He came to walk in fellowship with us and to make Himself just our size. He came to show us how it's done. (How what is done?  really LIVING, of course!) And not only that, He came to do that with us, not to be the one standing on the plow, so to speak, but the one in harness with us. We never have to go it alone; HE is there. 

Right beside us. Just our size. Helping, encouraging, waiting for us to get our footing.

He LOVES me!!

It's an iconic picture of girlhood, standing in a field of flowers with a daisy in one hand, plucking off the petals one by one, saying, "He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not...." 

And that same girl, crestfallen (though briefly) when it turns out to be that "he loves me not." Undaunted, though, she picks another daisy and starts all over again. "He loves me, he loves me not..." 

At our breakfast conversation this morning, my husband and I were exploring that picture as a metaphor for what a lot of believers (including ourselves at times, possibly most of the time) think of when things happen in their lives. We base our perception of whether God loves us on the circumstances of our lives.

Let me illustrate. 

I get a new job. "He loves me."

The boss is a jerk. "He loves me not." 

I come home and see a beautiful sunset. "He loves me."

I get home to find that the dog got into the garbage and threw up all over the floor, and I get to clean up garbage AND vomit. "He loves me not. Grrr." 

My child gives me a card she made herself and tells me what a great Mom I am. "He loves me. I feel so blessed!"

That same child irritates the life out of me. Or has set her computer monitor on fire, leaving black smoke hanging in the air. "He loves me not. I'm such a failure." 

And we can treat our spiritual lives with that same sort of insecurity.
 

Photo "Girl With Daisy" by
Clare Bloomfield at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I pray, and God answers my prayer with an immediate, miraculous YES. "He loves me." 

I pray again, and things get worse - things look hopeless - or someone I pray for dies.  "He loves me not. I must not be trying hard enough. I have to try harder. Maybe I'll give more money to the church." (Word to the wise - any other motivation for giving than love ..... always backfires...)

I give more money to the church, and the car breaks down. (See? now I'm out the money I gave to the church PLUS I have this huge hunking bill...) "He loves me not. What in the world does He want, anyway?" 

I sense His presence in worship, or He heals me of some ailment. "Oh, how He loves me!!" 

Not all that much later, I can't seem to feel His presence, the heavens seem made of brass, and I keep making the same stupid mistakes. "He loves me not. I'm so sinful! How come I keep doing this?" 

Sound familiar? 

I have good news for your heart and for mine. I know you and I have heard this so often that it almost seems to go without saying, but here's the thing. There's hearing and then there's HEARING. Our minds give assent to this thing because we hear it so often, but our hearts have yet to fully grasp what it means, let alone accept it.

Here it is - drum roll - in the first person so that everyone can say it with me: 

HE LOVES ME! HE REALLY, REALLY, LOVES ME!!

Whether I feel Him or not, whether I do things for Him or not, whether good things happen to me or not, whether it's raining or sunny, whether the guy in the next lane cut me off or not, whether the diagnosis is cancer or the common cold ... 

HE LOVES ME! HE REALLY, REALLY LOVES ME!!

He (as my husband put it so eloquently this morning) bankrupted Heaven ... for me. He turned the gates of pearl inside out, gutted Glory, gave everything He had - just to rescue us. Just to rescue me. 

That's how good He is. That's how much He loves. That's how much He thrills when we talk to Him. That's how much He longs to bless me, how intensely and completely He has already forgiven me and accepts me. 

Period. No guesswork, no wishing it were true, no pulling the petals off daisies. Just lift my eyes to ... two arms spread wide. 

On a cross.

Undiluted, Pure Grace

Whenever I get confused about what I have to do, what God's will is for me, or whether I'm barking up the wrong tree, I always end up in either Romans 8, 1 Corinthians 5, or Galatians. 

Today, I decided to take a different tack with my approach - instead of reading a few favorite verses, I decided to read the whole book of Galatians, and in a readable, relate-able paraphrase called "The Message." I find that this paraphrase demystifies Paul's writings for me and helps me get to his intent, his real message, stripping away all the convoluted fancy talk. 

I wanted to see just what the church's problem was at Galatia. What specifically was Paul trying to correct? I wanted to see the big picture and not get "lost in the tall grass" as one acquaintance put it once. And it was so clear as I just read through all six chapters that the thing he was trying to correct was that the Galatians believed the lie. The lie is that humans can do something to make God like them more. 

What they didn't GET was that God already approved of them, had already gone to the cross for them, rescued them, and made them righteous in His sight through the sacrifice He made for them, putting them right back into the covenant that God made with Abraham: you know, the one based on faith alone, five hundred years before Moses was even born. They were stuck on keeping the law as a way to add to what Jesus had already accomplished for them; it was an insult to His grace. It detracted from it, diluted it.

To dilute something means to lessen its power by adding something else into the mix. While dilution can be a helpful thing in cases of making something more palatable or less toxic, the sense in which I mean it is of something that would be detrimental by being watered down. For example, the orphanage in Dickens' book, Oliver Twist used to water down the porridge served so that it was no longer porridge (oatmeal) at all, but gruel, or oatmeal-flavored water. It left the boys in the orphanage constantly hungry, which gave rise to Oliver's famous quote, "Please sir, may I have some more?"  

Grace gets watered down with religion - and the result is gruel. Nasty, tasteless, unsatisfying gruel. 

But people don't know the difference if that is the only diet they've ever gotten. The only way is to give them a taste of what they've been missing.

Here is a taste of Pure Grace. Jesus has done it all for you; He has already fully accepted you; there is nothing else you need to do for Him to completely love you and approve of you. God did that IN JESUS AT THE CROSS from before the foundation of the world. Nothing you can do can add to it or take away from it; the Grace of God stands alone. 

Photo "Rushing River" courtesy of Maggie Smith at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Your faith is nothing more than saying "Yes" to His Grace, believing that you can step into that stream of living water already flowing beneath your feet. He works His life out in you. 
He is with you, and as near as the breath you breathe. Always. Not just at some ornate altar somewhere, He is with you at all times, loving you, bragging you up, doting on you. 

Listen to what a friend of mine had to say about this:

It seemed that the gospel I was raised with required my faith in order for my sins to be forgiven. That God would not or could not love me until I worked faith out. This seemed to make my faith a work by which I gained or won salvation. Now I know that my faith simply accepts what is already mine. While I was a sinner Christ died and rose again for me. God has never held my sin against me. Christ was crucified before the world began. I was reconciled to God from birth. It’s all mine (and yours) now, though I won’t experience it until I believe it. However, the accepting of forgiveness does not produce it. Faith simply says ”I see it, I believe it.” Seeing it, believing it, is a work of grace, and then I have to simply say “yes” to it.

This radical shift for me has now begun to cross over into what I have as a believer. I have longed for certain gifts to be mine. Asked, begged, pleaded with God, to allow them to be in my life. Thinking that until I act in some worthy fashion and exercise my faith that they would not be manifested. But they are all mine already, and have been from the very beginning of all things, and thus certainly from the beginning of my spiritual life.

“For in him all the fullness of deity lives in bodily form, and you have been filled in him, who is the head over every ruler and authority.” (Col 2:9,10)

“For every one of God’s promises are “Yes” in him; therefore also through him the “Amen” is spoken, to the glory we give to God.” (2 Cor 1:20)

Faith just says “I see it, I believe it.” Seeing that all his gifts are mine already is a work of grace, and then I have to simply say “yes” to it.

Demanding that anyone produce the work of faith before they can be forgiven is actually a sure way to keep them from it. If faith becomes a law, a thing we must do before God will love us, then we have fallen from Grace before we ever find it. If believing that the gifts are mine is a law, a thing I must do before they can be mine then I am already insulting the Spirit of Grace. I am already far from the reality as it is in Jesus.

It’s all ours now, all we have to do is see it, believe it, and say yes to it.
    - Rev. Stephen John Fenton, 2015-04-11.

I saw this work of Grace in the heart and life of my own dad. He was a chain-smoker, started smoking when he was five years old and had tried to quit SO many times, to no avail. He struggled with it all of his life. And for decades he had been judged and condemned by the religious elite of the community - which included his own wife many times - and sometimes he had tried to change, to clean up his life. He just. couldn't. do. it. He couldn't change himself, not one iota. He couldn't understand the Bible, didn't want to read it, didn't want anything to do with the people who'd judged him...the religious ones...or the petty, vindictive god they served.

When he was 58, he had a heart attack. And one day, after having developed a respect for the pastor who went to see him every day and showed that he cared about HIM, that pastor asked him for permission to ask him a personal question. With Dad's permission, the pastor said, "Are you trusting Jesus as your only way to a relationship with God?" And Dad thought about it and then he said, "Yes." And he meant it.

In that moment, something radical changed in him; he was never the same. And all he said was, "Yes." That's pure Grace. 

Yes, he struggled with his addiction. Yes, it eventually and ultimately killed him - first laying waste to his lungs, then his brain. But the person he was when he walked out of that hospital at fifty-eight years old was a different person than he was when he went in. He found himself automatically loving Jesus. He found himself automatically wanting to spend time with Him, reading what He had to say. He became more generous, more loving, more gentle, more humble. All without even trying. Jesus was doing the working out of Grace in his life, giving him the "want to" and the power to live each moment in gratitude and in returning the great love he had been given back to the One who gave it. And at the end of his life here, not even 10 years after that heart attack, there were so many people at his funeral that folks filled the foyer, and had to stand outside the church in the cold November air. 

Grace has nothing to do with us. It has everything to do with God.

That's how it works. That's how it always works - full-strength, undiluted, pure Grace. 

Thank God!!

The unforced rhythms of Grace

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to Me. 
Get away with Me and you’ll recover your life. 
I’ll show you how to take a real rest. 
Walk with Me and work with Me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of Grace. 
I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. 
Keep company with Me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
- - - - Matthew 11:28-30  (The Message)

Tonight I listened to the Easter Sunday morning message (on Saturday night where I live) - streamed live from Hillsong church in Australia. Pastor Brian spoke powerfully on the overwhelming power of the message of Grace - the simple message that the Cross equals Love, just asking from the Giving God who gives (James 1:5, AMP). 

And then he read the above passage from the Message. One of my favorite passages in the New Testament, it is Jesus talking. I know that the Message is a paraphrase and I won't get into a debate about what version is authorized or not. (I'm thinking the original one written in Greek is, but that's just a theory...) but those words - 'the unforced rhythms of Grace' - reached out to me and ministered to my heart. 

So much of what church and Christianity has become for me and for so many others has more to do with being forced. Pushing, fighting, persevering, sweating, fasting, agonizing. Really. There's only so much effort one can make before strength fails. 

Strength fails.

"I will give you rest," Jesus said. "My yoke is easy, My burden is light." It's not forced, not accomplished by grimacing in pain or doing a Daniel fast or tithing thirty percent or hopping to it every time the church doors are open. 

It's rest. Rest in Him. "Come to Me," Jesus said. Not "go to church." 

Am I saying not to go to church? well-l, all I can say is that lately whenever I've gone to church I've come home more upset than before I went...from all the "ands" and "ifs" I've been hearing, all the mind-games and controlling practices I see. As soon as the worship starts, it starts. Raise your hands, stand up, sit down. No, really MEAN this song, you're not doing it right. Go around and greet people, love on them. Okay that's enough, stop doing that. No really, greeting time is over; be quiet, I'm talking now. What's wrong with you? how come you're not saying Amen? Now stand up. Now sing this other song. Now learn a bunch more of stuff I know but you don't. Now add this religious practice to your life. And that one. And this other one. It'll help your faith grow. If you don't do it my way you are missing something, you're defective. Repent and come to the altar, you sinners... and on it goes; it's so sickening. 

Now, if church isn't like that for you, if you look forward to going and you sense the real presence of God, great!! But I wonder if we really feel His presence there, or whether we are being manipulated emotionally. I only know that I feel manipulated and judged, when I listen to anyone's voice but His. 

Photo "Loving Father And His Baby" courtesy of
David Castillo Dominici at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

So when I go to church, I try not to listen to any other voice but the voice of Jesus, not to see any face but the face of Jesus. I don't sing for (or TO) anyone but Him. Anything less - any time I get my eyes off the One who loves me, and see the sea of people around me who are looking for a shepherd, I become discouraged and I sink into despair. 

I felt like that last Sunday. I was millimeters from throwing in the towel - not on God but on those who call themselves His people. I felt trapped, used, controlled, condemned. And I was dreading going to church this weekend -- of all weekends, Easter. Too many expectations, too much pressure. The prayers and words of a friend helped me to gain enough strength to just lay that aside and seek the face of God.

I was spinning my wheels all week, in turmoil, not knowing what to do or where to go (if anywhere).

And then those words. "Learn the unforced rhythms of Grace." 

I'd forgotten that the cross equals Love. That Love came down willingly and died for me, stretched out His arms to show how much He was going to take away - everything - everything in me that separated me from receiving His love. I'd forgotten how He rescued me, how He set me free, made me the righteousness of God. I'd forgotten how He took my sin away, loved it right out of me, blazed the trail back to Heaven by becoming just like me, just so I could let the Father love me.  

He led the captor captive, tore out his teeth and paraded him through the halls of hell to the cheers of those whom He had released from their long waiting. And He rose from the dead ... so I didn't have to fear that either.

And I didn't need a ritual to "remind" me.  I needed HIM. I needed His words. That promise of rest, of Grace already given for all time, of His presence with me. 

And it brought something to me that I have not experienced for a long time. 

Peace. Joy. And Love.

A God Thing

It's been a hellish week. Never mind the relentless cold, wind and yo-yo weather of Maritime winter. Never mind the mind-numbing routine of eat, work, eat, sleep and repeat. It's been especially stressful lately, and nowhere has it been more stressful than in our daughter's struggles with the health care system and the disability insurance process. 

She's been on disability insurance for two years after an accident in which she dislocated her kneecap ended eventually in first one surgery, and then another, with very little improvement. 

About 5 months ago, her insurance company told her that her DI benefits would run out at the end of February 2015 because the rules were changing from "unable to do former job" to "unable to do ANY job." She's spent the last five months gathering information about all her other disabilities, not just her knee (which is the reason we have a handicapped parking permit). The list is ... daunting: everything from TMJ disorder (that jaw thing) to problems in her neck, shoulders, and back, to psychological difficulties like PTSD and panic disorder, to migraines and multiple chemical sensitivies, to a possible carpal tunnel syndrome. Not to mention that her body is a human barometer and she has pain whenever there are storms on the way. And there have been a LOT of storms.

The last month, she's been complaining of more muscular and joint aches, more headaches, and more panic attacks. The stress of the upcoming insurance deadline (February 2015) was weighing heavily on her, and it had become so much a part of her everyday life that she wasn't even aware of it. This past weekend, her beloved iPhone (that never left her side) bit the dust, and she spent six hours dealing with sales people and insurance people while still grieving the loss of her daily companion. She did get a new phone (though not an iPhone since the newer models don't meet her criteria) but the process of change AND being around people that long AND having to talk to strangers on the phone ... gave her a panic attack when she got home. 

There have been construction workers in the house this week with jackhammers. Jackhammers. The cats have been terrified and she has been jittery and uneasy. Talk about stress.

Today, she'd gotten back from her weekly counselling session and a few errands in town, when the phone rang; it was her insurance company. They had rendered a decision on her disability insurance. 

It was favourable. They had concluded that she met the criterion of "not able to do ANY job" and her benefits would therefore be extended. 

Photo "Opening Door Knob" courtesy of
sixninepixels at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Her financial situation immediately looked a whole lot more rosy. The pressure of wondering how she was going to pay her way ... lifted.

Moreover, the insurance company is committed to providing everything she needs to become functional again. Everything. Prescriptions, travel to and from out-of-province appointments, physio, therapy, whatever she needs.

Instantly, the weight of all that hidden stress lifted from her shoulders, her back, her neck, and her jaw. 

I found out about the phone call when I phoned home from work to check on how the morning went. As my husband explained everything to me, my eyes started filling with tears because I knew how much of a relief this would be for her. How much she would feel vindicated! How much she would relax and focus on looking after herself.

It was like opening a door.

It was definitely what I call "A God Thing." Only God could have worked it out, in a time frame that would mean no interruption in benefits, for maximum stress reduction, just when she needed it most, and she knows it. She knows it. 

I know it too. This is her time.

For far too long she has been suffering, hiding, pretending not to exist. For far too long she has settled for the leftovers, not spoken up for herself, thinking that "nice guys finish last." For way too long this child of God has accepted defeat. Now it is time to start walking in victory. Now it is time to heal. Now it is time to begin to live instead of just exist. 

And I, as her mother, am in a position to be able to do support her and to be one of those who will speak healing (and not judgment) into her life: body, soul and spirit. The tide is turning; I can sense it. It's the beginning of a new way of living, of thinking, of praying, of believing for me. Of believing that God's will isn't some namby-pamby wishy-washy bunch of platitudes like 'if it's His will.' It's time to really believe and declare that He not only wants to makes something beautiful out of her life, but that He WILL do it. 

I look forward to seeing more and more "God Things" happen ... because I know that He loves beyond anything that any of us could imagine. 

Just wait.