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. :)

Another night with the frogs

The title of this post has become a common saying between my husband and me over the last thirty-odd years of marriage. 

It refers to the story of Moses and the ten plagues, when God was in the process of freeing His people from slavery in Egypt.  One of the plagues - early on in the ten - was a plague of frogs. There were frogs everywhere: in kitchens, bathrooms, back lawns, roadways, and bedrooms - swarming everywhere so much so that you couldn't step anywhere or roll over in bed without a frog there. 

Never mind being unsanitary - it was downright nasty!!  So anyway, Moses goes to Pharaoh (the slave-driver king who was holding Moses' people captive) and says, "I can say the word and the frogs will go away." Pharaoh believes him - after all, he's turned the river to blood! "When do you want me to command the frogs to go away?" he asks the king.

"Tomorrow."

Not right now, not even in an hour. No - Pharaoh is too proud to admit that he has no control over the situation, and so he exerts the only control he thinks he has left. 

He chooses to spend another night with the frogs.

Photo "Green Frog"
courtesy of Elwood W. McKay III at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

People get comfortable with intolerable situations ... sometimes because it's all they know and they fear changing things and moving into something they fear more than the pain of the situation: they fear the unknown. WE fear the unknown. Even if it means spending another night with the frogs. Even if it means staying in that situation or continuing to think, say, or do things we know are going to be bad for us. We get stuck in the same old pattern, doing the same things with the same types of people, and making the same mistakes over and over again. We get locked into a repeating cycle and we want out, but ...

We know things will change if we do step out into a new experience for us. But we don't. 

Why? 

Good question - or is it? Does it matter why? I suspect there are as many reasons as there are people. The point is that we resist change. 

Change is scary. It really is. Taking that first step into the unknown is risky. It's one of the most scary things we can do. But if we don't take that step, we are stuck with the results we've always gotten - and we'll never know what might have been.

The few times I have taken that first step have led to such amazing adventures. I still have to fight the tendency to want to stay with the familiar - even if it's not all that pleasant.  But if the last two years or so has taught me anything, it's that the unknown with the knowledge and awareness of God's love is far better than fighting for space with those slimy critters - the frogs, I mean. :)

Anything but this...

When the children were young and we were so very deep in debt there was no way out, when we were forced to one inescapable conclusion - that we had to declare bankruptcy - I groaned inside. "Oh God. Anything but this."

But of course it happened. And through it, I learned about mercy, and grace, and forgiveness, and provision. I learned which people were our friends and which ones didn't want to have anything to do with us because they judged us. I learned how God can take the most awful experiences of our lives and teach us lessons we need to learn: how to live within our means, for one thing. 

When the government came after my husband and took him to court - and we had no money to fight them - when they broke every promise they made to us when he stood trial, I closed my eyes and said, "God. Anything but this." But it happened anyway... and through that experience we learned the pain of being falsely accused with no way to fight back, and we learned who stayed, and who judged. We also learned even more about God's provision, and were given even more opportunities to forgive.

When our child was injured and had to undergo surgery - when she faced unjust treatment by one health care professional after another - when she was declared disabled ... I dropped my head to my chest and sighed, "Oh God. Anything but this." But through that experience we learned how to ask for what we needed, how to accept help, and how to see light even in the midst of darkness. 

When our other child rebelled, hung out with people who were in trouble with the law, stole for them, stole from us, and finally wanted to leave the province, I ached inside ... "God. Please. Anything but this." I was so scared, felt so rejected. But ... she left anyway. And through her leaving, I realized that the hedge of protection that I had placed around her no longer protected her because she had chosen to leave. At the same time, and probably BECAUSE of that loss of protection, I learned how to trust Him for all things, how she needed to be away from that protection to see how bad things were "out there".  I learned how to let go more and more of my need to control the outcome, and how to develop a relationship with her that grew more and more precious in such a short time. And I knew the joy of seeing that same child embrace a vibrant relationship with God - something she never would have done had she stayed. 

When she got evicted and had to live in her car, when she fought fatigue, sickness, hunger and cold for days and days ... making her so exhausted she fell asleep at the wheel and was killed ... I cried in anguish, "Oh GOD! Anything but this!!"  But of course, through the searing pain of loss, I learned the sweetness of God's presence, the wonder of true friendship, the amazing impact of her legacy the more I told her story, and the empathy that allowed me to be there for someone else who lost her own daughter not long after that. 

More and more I am convinced that God uses the darkest, most terrifying experiences of our lives to show us His great love and to make us stronger for whatever is around the bend. I have learned this through the things I have gone through, usually kicking and screaming like some petulant child. He is patient with me. I am learning.

Photo "Doctor In Surgery" by
taoty at www.freedigitalphotos.net

When my brother got cancer, and needed to have surgery, I knew by then that God was going to work something amazing out of it all. And He did. The surgeon got all the cancer. There is none left. Sure, there are physical problems still, and it is hard, but God has this under control. 

When my mom got dementia and went wandering one day last month, and had to be put into protective custody in the hospital, part of me went to that place of fear: "Dear God, no. Not this." But this time, I didn't stay there. I started to see how God was working even in the midst of this horrible thing in our family. I can see God's love in the situation even while she waits, still wanting to go home, to be placed into a nursing home - the last place she ever wanted to go. In spite of all of that, I have confidence that He will make a way in that wilderness just like He did with all the other barren places I have mentioned, and way more besides. 

He does this because He loves us. He LOVES US. Not because there is anything we've done or not done - but because He WANTS to. That's it. No more than that. 

And I am sure that He will amaze us all. And that He will delight in His lavish love when our jaws drop at how good He is to us.

So ... when people ask me to pray for God to take something away from them that is hurting them, or hurting someone they love, I will pray - of course! But I pray for God to do the same kinds of miracles that He did for me and for us, ... for them.  I pray that He shows them His presence not only with them, but IN the whole situation. I pray that they have peace, that they will learn the joys of letting go of their situations and clinging to Him. That they will realize that He is right there with them.  

I have seen too many miracles happen "in the midst" to believe less than that. 

Building mighty walls

She's ten years old.  She has been coming to kids' church since she was three or four. And she has never felt like she fit in. 

She's not overly shy, but she thinks deep thoughts and feels things deeply.  She's a loyal friend - to those who take the time to be friends with her.  But people don't.  Not her peers, and not the children's ministry leaders. You see, they think of her as a troublemaker, even though she's not a bully and not misbehaving. She just wants to understand ... and a lot of things about what they are teaching don't make sense to her.  How, if God is love, He could command people to kill entire towns filled with people and animals (as He did in the Old Testament).  How, if God is just and wants only our good, He could let people die of cancer.  

Her questions are tough, but they are valid. That the teachers don't have the answers (nobody does) is not her fault.  But the frustrated teachers make her feel like it's her fault, that she is somehow spiritually defective for not taking things on blind faith. Because they disapprove of her, she thinks that God disapproves of her too.

Her parents are poor.  They cannot afford to dress her in the latest fashions, and sometimes the dresses she wears are stained in places, or there is a run in her tights.  She hates that she has to conform to a dress code, but she does it to please her mom and dad.  She doesn't tell them how the other girls in her class snub her because her clothes are not designer, how they wear things from the high-end stores and show them off to each other and to the teachers, and she watches wistfully from the sidelines while the teachers play favourites.  And after a few times of coming home and telling her folks about an upcoming event or activity (for which the admission fees are beyond her parents' budget) she doesn't even bother telling them about those things anymore.  

She is not slim like the other kids. She's kind of overweight.  She has health problems that have made her unable to be an athlete, and while she can keep up with them in the games in the gym, she doesn't excel and is not super competitive.  She feels keenly the rejection of the other children as they pick everyone else for their teams except her.  And more and more, the teachers pick events and group activities that revolve around athletic ability: skiing, skating, rock-climbing, and hiking, that pander to their favourite (slim) students.

The leaders also emphasize Scripture memorization and give candy prizes for bringing a Bible, and more candy for bringing a friend. She soon wonders if this - this expectation of performance, and the underlying idea that God is all about following the rules and not questioning - is all there is.  If it is, she must be a horrible person. But she can't stop the questions ... those unanswerable questions that make a lot of Christians uncomfortable.  After a while, the frustration of the teachers (and of their favourite helpers) turns to open animosity toward her.  She starts getting singled out and punished for things that are not her fault. 

She puts up with it only until it is considered legal to stay home without supervision... 12 years old. And then she lets her parents know how she feels.  Her parents, wisely, do not force her to keep going to a place where she feels attacked every single time she sets foot inside the door. 

The church workers had turned her against the church, and against God.  She did eventually have a relationship with God, but in spite of them, not because of them. And she still has a deep and abiding resentment against the church. 

Yes, the above example is based on a true story which really happened in a church that preached the gospel, taught that God is love and emphasized the infilling of the Holy Spirit. This church welcomed people of other races, and had outreaches to immigrant communities. The leadership seemed to bend over backwards to be welcoming toward people from diverse communities. 

So what went wrong in the children's ministry? Let me break it down for you.  

Racism is wrong.  It is wrong, wrong, wrong. And it hurts not only the victimized, but also the racists.  But there are other things that are equally as damaging.  And unfortunately, they are rampant in the church.

When you think of someone else who comes from a family that has a lower income than yourself as "less than" yourself, that is CLASSISM.  It's just like racism, only the "difference" is dollars, not skin colour. 

When you treat someone who is not as slim as you are as "less than", that is FATISM.  It's discrimination against someone on the basis of body type, and it hurts just as much as racism does. 

When you single someone out and punish them for things that are not their fault, exclude them, nitpick, contradict, or dismiss what they say due to one or more differences between you and them, that is BULLYING.  It has no place in the church. NONE.

When you reward children based on their performance (be that scripture memorization, Bible-toting, "evangelism" through dragging a friend to church) just so they can get some goodies, you send the message that God is more about people toeing the line than He is about loving people just as they are for the sake of loving them (i.e. that behaving is what life is about and that people are so depraved that they have to be bribed to behave). You are perpetuating RELIGION and undermining RELATIONSHIP.  You are saying that God has no power to transform people's lives and that they must obey rules to be accepted by Him.

God is not interested in religious robots.  He is looking for real people - warts and all - and by not accepting people (and children ARE people!) as they are, you are actually (a) encouraging the formation of robots and (b) driving away the very people that could bring life into the church and make the message that "God is love" really relevant to those in their world.

Photo "Teenage Girls Gossipping" by Ambro at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Many (but not all) churches do not understand the dangers of these sorts of attitudes creeping in and destroying the sensitive spirits of those who are vulnerable, rejected, and searching for answers.  Many (but not all) children's ministries are carried out in the week-to-week reality by people who are undertrained, overworked, and sadly unsupervised. Children's ministries in mainstream churches have typically been treated as glorified babysitting services where one or two teachers have the responsibility of overseeing dozens of children ranging in age from (four or) six to twelve: an impossible and thankless task!  Plus, the unspoken purpose of many children's ministries is to get the kids out of their parents' hair while they do their [boring] adult worship/giving/sermon rituals in the sanctuary, and the only qualifications that the children's ministry volunteers have are (a) membership in the church and (b) a willingness to plunk their behinds in a chair for an hour once or twice a week. 

The fact is that those who work with children in a church setting are determining the future of that church.  If they display intolerant, insensitive, and bigoted attitudes, the children will get the idea that God is intolerant, insensitive and bigoted ... and some of them (most likely the ones who stay) will buy into that fallacy and get the idea that it is OKAY to be intolerant, insensitive and bigoted - and will pass this on to the NEXT generation.  

What am I saying? Simply this - it doesn't cost anything (except perhaps pride) to be kind and compassionate to those who are different from us in some way.  However, people need to be aware that these (and other) ugly attitudes do exist (and not just in the church) and that they need to be exposed for what they are.  If they are not, then be prepared for church after church to close their doors as more and more of the founding fathers and mothers pass away. 

We are - without meaning to, I believe - building mighty walls, as Russ Taff sings in "We Will Stand" (yes this is a link).  Can we not see that this is damaging to the cause of Christ? Can we not see that labels and liberty are incompatible?

The cycle must stop.  Those people who are drawn to (any kind of) ministry need to examine themselves and determine if they are prone to any of these (or other) attitudes.  Church leadership must invest resources into not just the technical (how-to) training of their workers, but also discipleship and sensitivity training.  Pastors and children's pastors need to just "drop in" unannounced to the kids' classes.  Children need to be given feedback tools (like a child's version of a suggestion box) to describe anything that made them feel unwanted or uncomfortable in class without being singled out. If we foster acceptance and discourage exclusion, maybe we have a chance of seeing our children embrace our faith ... instead of pushing them away from it.

Moved with Compassion

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about how God's intent is to conform us to the image of His Son, and that THIS is the "good" that all things work together for: Romans 8:28 must always be read with verse 29 to understand what that good is! What got me to thinking about that was the valley that a friend of mine is going through, with sudden and serious health problems going on in two different generations in her immediate family. (To read that blog post, click here.)

Friday past, that same friend got a frantic phone call from one of her grown children in a different province. Their sister (her daughter) had taken a bad turn. The message was to the point. "I think you'd better get over here." 

She contacted me right away and told me the news - the way any mom would tell a close friend that kind of news - in tears. My immediate concern was how I could help. She asked for us to look after her cat - I instantly agreed. The hospital was a 3-hour trip away, not cheap due to having to take a ferry to get there. But there was no question in her mind; she was going.

To make a short story even shorter, when she got to the hospital, she heard the news for herself. Her daughter had died while she was traveling to be with her. 

I got a three-word text as I was getting in the elevator at work to go home. "She is gone." 

I felt the earth sink a little beneath my feet. The room that I was in somehow had a hollow, "fish-eye" lens quality, and although there were people in it, they seemed to fade to the background. All that mattered was that my friend was hurting in a way that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.

That set into motion a flurry of texts and communications back and forth with both her and the church family, along with vivid flashbacks of the day in October 2013 when I learned my own daughter had died. 

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

I knew some of what lay in store for my friend now, and the one emotion I felt (and still feel) was compassion. That compassion only deepened as she discovered the following day that her aging mother (96 years old, recovering from a broken hip and hip replacement surgery) was failing badly and unable to return to her home. Basically, she was put in palliative care. It's just a matter of time, and she's not sure how much time her mom has left. Probably not much.

One devastating loss, and another one looming. My heart broke for her.

The word "compassion" literally means "to deeply feel alongside" - one feels another's pain, or sorrow, or joy, alongside (or with), the other person. 

When Jesus was on earth, one of the most common emotional states He experienced was compassion. But in every case, the Bible doesn't just say He felt sorry for people who were hurting. It says that Jesus was "moved with compassion" ... meaning that he did not just feel the emotion; it meant that He did something about it. He was moved. His compassion put Him into motion. He helped. He healed. He met needs. He visited. He comforted. He prayed.

He also said that He did nothing on His own, but only as the Father directed Him. So, operating in the Holy Spirit, He felt that feeling of compassion, and expected God's direction as to what to do, how far to go and when to stop. He got that, and obeyed it.

We have the exact same resource at our disposal as Jesus did, the same Holy Spirit that empowered and led Him to do all those amazing things. As He relied on the Holy Spirit (for leading and for empowerment) we can too. How amazing!! We can depend on the Comforter, the paracletos (Greek: the One called alongside to help - wait - that sounds a little bit like uh, the definition of compassion!) to lead and strengthen us to do His bidding. Every moment, every day, that same energizing power is ours. 

And we can use God's dynamite power, His own person (the Holy Spirit) to reach out to people as He leads. Why would we reach out to people? Well, I have a news flash for you....it's not because we're "supposed" to!!!! It's because He loves us. Period!! Listen to Paul, "The love of Christ compels us..." (2 Cor. 5:14) It's because He loves us, because we've experienced that love for ourselves, that makes us want to be that "hand extended" - not because it's our duty but because we love Him in return for loving us first, and that spills out all over everyone with whom we come in contact. In short, compassion for others (the lost, other believers, whatever) is a natural overflow of His love for us!! 

Which brings me back to my friend. My prayer for her is that she is able to sense and experience that divine, unconditional love for her, and that (even in the midst of her pain) she can spill out some of that love into the lives of the people with whom she comes in contact....that she continually knows that "peace that [sur]passes all understanding" surging through her. 

And not only will I will pray for her and for her family members ... I will make myself and my resources available as God leads me.

Fabricated fervor

I tend to be a bit of an iconoclast. An iconoclast is someone who challenges the idols of the past and destroys them if possible. And that's a dangerous thing to be - for the iconoclast (LOL). It usually means that someone like me comes under a fair bit of attack by the proponents of the status quo. Those who are attached to their household (or sanctuary) idols feel threatened by me saying, "But WHY do we do it that way? This makes no sense! This is not right!!" and so forth. 

And so, here I go again with the sledgehammer.

Over the past several months to few years, I've been doing a LOT of thinking about how the western church "does church." And by "the church" I am talking about the people, the people groups that gather to (apparently) honour God with their worship and their love and service to each other and (hopefully) to the world. And by "does church," I am speaking about the rituals and sacred cows that we have become attached to when wearing our church-attender mask.

I've looked carefully at the early church as described in the New Testament ... and nowhere do I see that they met once a week and sang five songs, ended the singing 40 minutes later, took an offering and had a sermon with a final song or two (or five) to finish up. They met from house to house, but nowhere do I see where they had to sign up to do so. Nor do I see any kind of reference to programs or topics or themes or leaders or study books. Rather, I see people who loved being together, who went from house to house on a regular basis, possibly as much as daily (!) as the Spirit led them. And they shared and talked about Jesus, talked to Him, gained spiritual strength from being together in the presence of God. Hmmm.

That's not what I see today. It breaks my heart.

Everything we do as believers in the western church is regimented, even in denominations that have prided themselves for DECADES on being "spontaneous" and "led by the Spirit." There's a structure, a set of tasks to accomplish, and in a certain order, each taking a predetermined amount of time, without all of which (it is believed) church just doesn't happen.

It's funny .... I kind of believe that church (first of all) is whenever two or more gather together in Jesus' name. It isn't a building, it doesn't have a human-organized structure as such, and it doesn't need money to operate. (Horrors!!) Church can happen (believe it or not!) even at a bar, if it has to (and it WILL if there is no other place for God to manifest His presence). Or ... at a coffee shop. Or in a kitchen when two friends share while doing dishes. Or on a golf course. Or in someone's basement when folks get together and "jam" with a couple of guitar and/or a keyboard. Or listening to and watching some Youtube videos of worship music. Jesus said that the rocks and trees would cry out His praise if the human voices were silenced. Is it such a stretch to think that He might show up in a place that is not authorized?

The number one requirement for such a gathering is spontaneity. If that doesn't exist, the "group" is just as cold and dead as the inside of a crypt. It serves no Kingdom purpose. None at all. It's just a bunch of people congratulating themselves for "not forsaking the assembling of [themselves] together" (Heb 10:25). Can I confess that I absolutely hate that verse? Or rather, I hate what it's been used to justify; I hate that people take that verse and club people over the head for not going to church regularly or for not signing up for a small group. Or for whatever other times or reasons the church (or hand-picked leaders') doors are open.

And let me go out on a limb here and say something else that might be considered radical, even (I dunno) iconoclastic! It's simply this. Spontaneity cannot be legislated. It's like expecting positive and immediate results when a university professor stands in front of his classroom of students at 9:17 a.m., and makes an announcement to the students, "You will now have fun. Go ahead. It's fun time." 

Seriously?

Photo "Chain And Hand" by worradmu at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

It doesn't happen that way. Doubly so when we're talking about something that God has made very clear can't happen without HIM!! Humans can't create the Spirit's presence in a test tube. We can't fabricate fervor. We can't regiment passion. We can't organize an organism. 

If we do, they all die.

If we shackle what was intended to be spontaneous, there might be a little knowledge transferred and we might think we're "accomplishing something" or "learning a lot" - or even "developing relationships" ... but we will have missed the whole point. Church, real church, isn't about learning stuff or feeling accomplished or patting ourselves on the back. It's about connecting with God and with each other on a spiritual level, not on a superficial level that touches only our minds. 

I'm not saying, "Don't go to church" or anything else like that. I'm saying that it might be time to RE-THINK what we have believed is so important when we gather together. It might be time (here's a radical thought!) to allow small groups to develop on their own rather than control the whole process with leaders and training seminars and sign-up sheets and hard-core marketing techniques. 

Those things turn me off in the worst way; I run in the opposite direction when I hear those kind of heavy-handed should-fests. I don't know about you, but the best way to keep me away from something is to tell me that I HAVE to do it or to judge me for not doing it. It's by telling me that I am less of a Christian, that I'm not doing what God wants me to do if I don't subscribe to the flavour of the month, whatever that is. Sorry. It's just not going to work with me. I figure that God put a brain in my head for a reason, and He put His spirit within my heart so that I could learn to listen to His voice and do what He tells me WHEN He tells me to do it. And I don't need someone else to do that for me. 

And yes, if I could find a gathering that is truly organic, I would probably want very much to be part of it. When I find it ... that will be something to write home about.

Lessons from butterflies

I had the opportunity to use the word metamorphosis today, (the process by which a caterpillar becomes a butterfly) which got me to thinking about that process, and about butterflies in general.

As I pondered this wonder of God's creation, I began to understand some lessons about life and faith that parallel the life cycle of this common - but usually welcome - insect. Some of them might seem pretty basic, but bear with me.

All butterflies start out as caterpillars. Even though their destiny is to fly, butterflies begin life from eggs laid by adult butterflies, and you'd think that the hatchlings would resemble - at least somewhat - the finished product. 

Photo "Monarch Caterpillar" courtesy of
Lisa McDonald at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

They don't. They're fat, squirmy, earth-bound critters that think of nothing but eating the next piece of greenery. And the next.

Just so, the expression "God has no grandchildren" can apply here. Just because you are a child of God doesn't mean that your children are. They must each come to faith the same way - through a personal experience of rebirth by the Spirit of God. Every single person is a born sinner.

The caterpillar's entire existence is geared toward consumption. It consumes food almost all of the time! Its entire focus is downward, toward the business of survival: the next bite, the next leaf, the next plant. Yet even this limited existence serves a purpose - it will help the caterpillar have enough physical resources (or building blocks, if you wish) when it eventually has to stop eating and form its cocoon, or chrysalis. Every experience in our lives, even the ones we've had prior to becoming Christians, has the potential of being a tool to help us or to help someone else later on.

When the time is right, the caterpillar knows. Each individual caterpillar knows when it is ready to enter the next stage of its life - the transformational stage. It doesn't know that this is what will take place. It just knows that it needs to go to a protected spot and do something other than eat. No other organism can make that decision (if you can call it that); the little critter just KNOWS. The Holy Spirit is the only One who can bring someone to Jesus. All the "witnessing" in the world, all the singing, programs, manipulation or whatever you can name, will not bring even ONE person into the Kingdom of God. That moment is holy; it belongs to God and to Him alone... and it is extremely personal.

Once the process starts, there is no going back. Driven by forces of instinct, the caterpillar envelops itself into its cocoon ... and a process begins that is irrevocable. There is only one possible outcome: a butterfly will emerge. Let's also keep in mind that the caterpillar is not aware of the changes that are happening. It can't see what it's becoming. These two thoughts give hope to those of us who have no idea what God is doing in us, can't see a clear path, and wonder if anything is even happening. God will finish what He started, and He will make something beautiful come out of what seems like chaos, even if we don't have a clue what that something beautiful is.

Everything the caterpillar is, is fundamentally changed.  Many people are not aware of this, but the process of metamorphosis changes the caterpillar into a gelatin-like soup of cells and organic molecules. In essence, the caterpillar is de-constructed down to the level of the cells themselves. It ceases to be what it was ... and it is then re-created into the form of a butterfly. Over the space of a few weeks, (which in most species is a significant portion of its lifespan) this old creation is re-created into something it has never been before. This reminds me of the verse in 2 Corinthians 5 that talks about us being new creations in Christ Jesus: "...the old is past; the new has come!" (vs 17)  While we may not feel regenerated, we are. While we may not feel holy; God declares us as such - in fact, the courage of Scripture says, "He has made Him [Jesus] to be sin for us, [He] who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him [Jesus]!!" (vs 21)

It takes as long as it takes. The process of realizing all the facets of that new life, that new nature, might take a while, but it happens. And although - for the chrysalis - it might happen in a cluster of chrysalises, each process is individual, and it will take as long as it takes. The same is true in the spiritual realm. While it is true that we need others in the body of Christ, the most important relationship there is happens in the secret place, where the Spirit of God transforms us from the inside out.

This is not the time for pouring into someone else's life. Starting to "minister" too soon is one of the top reasons that I've seen that explains why people in ministry burn (or fizzle) out. I sometimes remind myself that Paul the apostle had to go to Arabia for 3 years and "unlearn" all of the mind-sets that he had as a Pharisee before he could be used by God in the Church. 

Photo "Monarch Butterfly" provided by
Liz Noffsinger at
www.freedigitalphotoa.net

When it's time to emerge, it's time. After the butterfly is fully formed, it is time to come out of the cocoon. This is not a comfortable process, and nobody can help with it, or the creature will not be able to fly properly or reach its food source, and will therefore starve to death. The struggle of emerging from the chrysalis is essential, as is the resting period following it. Only then can the necessary internal juices flow into the wings and harden them; at first the wings are soft, wet, floppy, and small. The waiting allows the power to transfer from within to where it is needed. 

The shell that was so important before, the boundary of the transforming creature's world, has already served its purpose after the wings harden. It can be discarded. There are no limits now. The butterfly is free, learning to ride the air currents and feed on totally different food, covering more distance in one minute than it did for its entire existence before beginning the process. 

It will act like a butterfly because it IS a butterfly. A caterpillar can no more act like a butterfly than a pig can act like an eagle. And it would be ludicrous for a butterfly to act like a caterpillar. That isn't what a butterfly is anymore. 

This is a metaphor, a picture, of the completeness of our transformation as believers, whether we are aware of it or not. I won't belabor the point by drawing the obvious parallels; I will only say that they are there - and that God will do what He said He would: in gazing on His glory, we will be transformed - just like a butterfly is transformed - into the image of Jesus by the Holy Spirit who lives within us (2 Cor 3:18). And where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom (vs 17).

Hugs and hand grenades

I grew up in a church that called itself fundamentalist. In hindsight, it was a lot more about following rules than it was about following Jesus and His Way of love. It was much more about making people behave themselves than it was about listening to them and caring about them. 

One of the major tenets of this particular church (and from what I've seen since, a LOT of fundamentalist churches) was this concept of "witnessing." 

Now, first of all, I am perfectly willing to share my faith as the Holy Spirit leads me and as the situation gets set up by Him. (And as I listen to Him, He also tells me when to be quiet and let Him do His work.) And He gives me opportunities to share a few words about my relationship with Him - sometimes where and when I least expect it. 

But there is something here that I think a lot of believers miss. The word "witness" - for the most part - is a NOUN and not a verb. Especially as used in the Bible. "You will be My witnesses," Jesus said in Acts 1. That means that it is something that we ARE, not something that we DO. 

So witnessING (as it is done today, and I'll give examples below) is contrary to the pattern of scripture. In fact, in my experience, it only HINDERS someone from accepting the good news because without exception, it makes unbelievers feel as though we Christians believe ourselves to be better than they are. (Ummm, we're NOT.)

It's true that believers are born again into a war in progress. It's true that we can wage spiritual warfare. Successfully, I might add. But this warfare is not accomplished with weapons of destruction. People need love. People DON'T need judgment. People are NOT the enemy. People - INDIVIDUAL people - are our MISSION.

HEAR ME.

Bumper stickers, tracts, Facebook posters, and other 'blanket' affirmations and platitudes just don't work. They are like throwing a hand grenade into the middle of a crowd hoping to make a statement about the power of God. There is a LOT of collateral damage. People get hurt. Badly. Such tactics don't take the individual into consideration at all. They just open fire and give those who "throw the grenade" a false sense of having "witnessed" and thus having fulfilled their Great Commission obligation. 

How tragic.

Messages or Facebook posts or tracts that use guilt or fear to get people to engage in these harmful behaviors (done in the name of good) only serve to keep God's people in bondage and hinder their ability to earn a hearing when the people around them are hurting. 

You see, using spiritual hand grenades absolves us of any responsibility to reach people who need reaching, to find those people who are searching, who are ready to hear, (ever think that someone in your circle of friends might NOT be ready to hear and be turned off by your obviousness? think about it!) and to show them the love of Jesus in a personal way. What these people need are hugs, not hand grenades. Hugs are personal. They can be messy because they involve human contact. And they only target one (or at the most two) at a time, so there is a considerable increase in time investment. 

Let me illustrate. 

About thirty years ago, my dad had a pretty major heart attack. Thankfully, he survived it!!  He was in the hospital, flat on his back with machines hooked up to him, monitoring his heart rate, his breathing, and his oxygen levels, only allowed to see one person at a time, and the pastor of the local church came to see him. The first thing out of his pastor's mouth was not "How are you?" but "Are you saaaaaved??" 

If Dad could have gotten up out of that bed (he told me later) he would have punched that guy in the mouth. HARD. If the story had ended there, my father would never have had a valid opportunity to respond to the Good News.

A few days later, another fellow came to see him. He sat with him, visit after visit, engaged him in conversation about the things that mattered to Dad, listened to him, and ended the visit when Dad showed signs of fatigue or of needing sleep. He never spoke a word to him about his soul, not for nearly three weeks. But he came to see him every day, took an interest in how he was doing, what he cared about, and how he felt. He really showed my father that he cared about HIM.  And finally, when he heard the Spirit whisper, "Now," he asked my dad's permission to ask him a personal question. (Read here: RESPECT.) Dad agreed. And the man simply said, "Are you fully trusting Jesus as your only way to a relationship with God?" Dad thought for a moment and simply said, "Yes. I am." And from that moment onward, his life and his attitudes changed. 

This is an example of what I mean by hugs and not hand grenades. 

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

If our friends know us at all, and if we have been true to our beliefs in our own lives and choices, they will know what our stand is, and whether we are Christians or not ... because they're smart people. We don't have to beat them over the head with it, and we don't have to be "in their face" with it all the time. All that does is make them want to run screaming in the other direction!! There is nothing that we can do to MAKE them become Christians, to see the "error of their ways" (can you begin to see how insulting that kind of attitude is to people?)  In fact, convicting people of their sin and bringing them to Jesus is not our job. It's God's. "HE [that is, the Holy Spirit] will convince the world of sin, of righteousness and of judgment," Jesus said in John 16. 

When I used to "witness" the way that I hear people trying to convince other believers to do - with a Bible in one hand and a club in the other - one person told me that the reason she became a Christian was NOT because I kept nagging her or reminding her about it. If anything, she said that my behavior toward her kept her from embracing the gospel because she didn't want to be that "in your face" kind of believer. (News flash!) What convinced her was not anything I said. In fact, the thing that spoke most to her was that she saw how happy I was now. She'd seen me at my worst ... and she knew that in spite of my obnoxiousness (and trust me, I was sickeningly zealous!) I was truly happy for the first time in my life. And THAT - above all else - was what got through to her. 

Huh. Who knew. 

The world needs more genuine hugs and far less impersonal and judgmental hand grenades. And so does the church.

Just saying.

The Frustration Factor

"Ever get frustrated with God?" someone asked. "I bet He gets frustrated with you..." 

Huh. There's a thought.

The definition of frustration is the anger one feels when a desired goal is thwarted. 

So yeah, we get frustrated with God. A LOT. We pray for something to happen; it doesn't. We want something else not to happen and we pray for protection; it happens anyway. Someone is sick and we pray for that person to be healed; they die. It's frustrating when you don't get what you want, when God doesn't act in predictable ways.  [That's a whole other blog post (and then some) in itself!!]

Frustration is a daily companion of those in leadership in the church. They are in a certain place in God (after all, their whole lives are about pursuing that place right? and to do what they do every moment of every day, they have to have some serious Jesus on tap, right?) and they want their parishoners to achieve that place as well, to be more involved in the church, to get out into their communities and make a difference. And yet, that doesn't happen - at least not to the degree that they might like. 

Life happens. Their people hurt. And they hurt each other. Or they become so jaded that they give up trying. It's frustrating for leaders, who might define themselves in terms of how well their flock is doing. And sometimes that frustration comes through in statements that are either openly or covertly designed to produce that change that they want to see in people. "Can't I get an Amen here?" .... "What's the matter with you people? You see that the prayer room is empty; we need revival, let's hop to it and pray!" (Oh don't even get me going on guilt trips.) 

That kind of frustration comes from looking at what other people are doing in their lives, not on focusing on what God is doing in my life. Too many of us try to (and I have said this before but it bears repeating) try to BE the Holy Spirit. That is, we try to do His job: convicting people of the error of their ways, convincing other believers to live holy lives. It isn't our place to do that. It's the Holy Spirit's job. 

As to whether God gets frustrated with us, my Bible tells me that He knows the end from the beginning. He has things all planned out. He can't get frustrated in that sense, because He knows what we're going to do before we do it. He is intimately concerned with our spiritual well-being, yes, but frustrated? Not in the sense that we can be.

Photo "Bible" courtesy of
Arvind Balaraman at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

As I read throughout scripture, I find that there is only one instance in which the word "frustrate" appears that is linked to how God feels, and it has to do with "frustrating the grace of God." (Galatians 2:21) So .... let's think about that for a second. Frustrating the grace of God. Hmmm. So God freely gives us His grace through what Jesus accomplished once for all for us on the cross.  As such, He intends for us to live in that grace, that place of total acceptance in Jesus (not in rules and conditions and regulations) - in a growing intimate relationship with Him, in gratitude and love toward Him, and from that love we will naturally be spilling over into the lives of the people with whom we come in contact. Sound about right? So what happens to frustrate that grace? 

Adding stuff to it (like rules, like conditions, like fear-mongering) frustrates it. (By fear-mongering I mean things like, "God will take away His gift if you don't toe the line...") Adding stuff is what the Galatians tried to do. Galatians 2:21 says, "I do not frustrate the grace of God. For if right standing with God came by obeying the Law, then Christ died for nothing."  

Putting limits on grace frustrates it. Saying, "Yes, but" frustrates grace. Shame frustrates grace. All the things we hear our leaders getting frustrated about ... actually frustrate the grace of God. He wanted - wants - us to live in freedom, not in bondage. Not the kind of freedom that abuses or takes advantage of the One who gave it (because if we do that, then we haven't understood how deep His grace is!!), but in the kind of freedom that realizes how great His love is, and loves Him in return ... and wouldn't DREAM of hurting His great, loving heart. 

I have yet to see anyone who fully understands and has embraced the grace of God for him or her personally, who has walked away in frustration and disgust. I have yet to see anyone who truly grasped for himself or herself all that Jesus did for us to purchase salvation for us, who then stayed in a sinful state and flaunted it, claiming he or she was "under grace." And yet ... I see people all the time who think that there is something they can do to add to or keep what Jesus died to freely give us, who crash and burn in fear and frustration, and they wonder why ... and end up thinking that "they weren't trying hard enough." As if anyone could match what Jesus did for us!  

The way of grace is rest. The way of grace is peace and free of strife. The things we desire are already ours in Jesus; all we need do (if we call that doing) is believe. That's it. It's as simple as that. What is hard (and the Word calls this "labouring to enter into that rest" in Hebrews 4:11) is staying in this good news of believing - because it is so much easier on our heads if we start sorting and putting into baskets, categorizing and religifying everything. Once we start doing that, the life that Jesus died to give us gathers dust. Rather, let's remember that this "hope of the gospel" is what we hold to, not some set of behavioral goals. If we add rules and behavior to it, it might LOOK like the end result, but it will be the cart before the horse. Best to put the horse first, and then the cart will naturally follow ... and I'll wager it will get farther. See what I mean:  "He has now reconciled you in His fleshly body through death, in order to present you before Him holy and blameless and beyond reproach - if indeed you continue in the faith firmly established and steadfast, and not moved away from the hope of the gospel that you have heard..." (Col. 1: 22-23)

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.

Asking permission

"Do not be hasty in the laying on of hands ..." - I Timothy 5:22(a)

It's happened to just about anyone who goes to a church that believes in the laying on of hands (either for healing or for authorization for ministry, ... there are more instances.)

There's something wonderful about the support that is expressed by touch. It can be a great source of comfort. 

However, it can also be a great source of DIScomfort. It all depends on who you talk to. 

I've lost count of the number of times and situations in various denominations where I've felt the need to go to the altar to pray. And within seconds after I get there, only wanting to kneel and talk to God ... I have gotten pounced upon by some well-meaning extrovert who only wants to impart some spiritual energy. 

Hmm. That kind of assumption has the opposite effect, quite frankly. Nobody ASKed me if they could do that; nobody ASKED me if I wanted to be alone; I had thought that by kneeling, it was an automatic gesture that I need to meet with God. Not His people. At least, not in that instance. However, I guess the one with a hot hand heavy on my back and shouting in my ear (oh, sorry, praying over me....) didn't get the memo. If I had wanted someone else to pray for me, I'd have gone up and stood in front of someone and ASKED. 

Not that I would. At least, not often. 

Asking for prayer opens me up to the personal opinions and pet doctrines of the person I ask to pray for me, because being "prayed for" or "prayed over" puts me in a very vulnerable position. Therefore, I need to implicitly trust that person. I don't usually trust people who assume that because they would like to be prayed for, that I would as well. Besides which, I've had too many people go all "Christian commando" on me ('taking authority' and 'binding the enemy' and all that stuff, stuff I used to do and sometimes still do - in private!) And then they get a whole group of people involved (as if by joining forces they can better twist God's arm). At that point I start to panic, and my simple need gets to be broadcast all over the place without my consent, when all I originally wanted to do was get alone with God and seek His face.

If I refuse their offer ... somehow that's not well-received.

I'd really like to be asked for permission instead of being TOLD to submit to some person's idea of "ministry." Just saying.

The same thing goes for legislated love. ("What in the world is THAT?" I hear someone saying...)

I like to hug people; I like to express my affection for someone, and I like it to be spontaneous. And most of all, REAL.  But an enforced hugging (that is, being told to hug or "love on" someone just because he or she is a believer) is, to me, like a social violation. Quite frankly, I usually absent myself from such exercises.

I'm kind of particular about the person or persons with whom I share personal space. To me, any social situation is riddled with risk. The only reason I go to church gatherings is to obey Hebrews 10:25 - not to forsake the assembling of ourselves together.  I am still SO not comfortable with mandated mingling. So I duck out. Or I stay in my seat. Or I go get a drink of water ... or go to the washroom or something, ANYTHING to keep from engaging in meaningless (and by meaningless I mean without meaningfulness) social babble.

Photo "Blue Butterfly" is used
with the kind permission of "dan"
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

 Let me contrast that with something that happened last Sunday morning. 

It had been a particularly rough week emotionally for me; I was (and still am) concerned about the health and safety of someone I love ... and the emotional pain and sense of helplessness has been excruciating. I was totally spent; I had nothing left emotionally, physically, even spiritually. I was exhausted in every way. 

And it was Thanksgiving. It sure didn't feel like Thanksgiving. 

Before the service, while the worship team was practicing, I saw someone I knew and chatted with her a bit. She asked about how I was doing and I knew that she really wanted to know. So I told her. Warts and all. She didn't judge me. She encouraged me, cried with me and hugged me. When she prayed, it didn't sound like she was blaming me or coming up with answers of her own, but just loving me and bringing my situation to Someone who loves me.

It meant so much.

During the service, the music was uplifting (even if it was bittersweet to listen to through the pain), and after the worship time, I leaned heavily on my husband's shoulder while there were some administrative things like announcements and offering, and then someone preached a very short but well-articulated sermon. When hubby left to go back up on the stage and finish up the service with the music ministry team, I let the music wash over my soul again. 

And as I got up afterward, another woman from our assembly was standing there in front of me - and she let me know that she had been praying for me and for my situation, and that she would continue to do so. It was very low-key, and very sincere, and it touched my heart. She asked about that situation (in a way that told me that she cared and that this wasn't a fact-finding mission to fuel gossip later) ... and I shared some information. Then she asked me if it would be okay with me (!!!) if she contacted a friend who might be able to help in some practical ways. 

I was blown away by her respect, by her genuine concern, and by her compassion and gentleness.

Other things happened that day ... among them, the choice of a particular song by a worship leader to sing in practice, specifically to speak to our needs - regardless of  whether we did the song in the service or not. 

Again, so special!

I'm still so thankful that every once in a while, God touches me in unexpected ways and shows me that He is still at work in His church -- that it isn't all about who can show to the most number of people that he or she is most spiritual. God uses real people to minister to real people who have real life issues. Hurting people want ... no, NEED ... that kind of reality. 

If only it wasn't so rare. 

God willing, maybe it won't be.

Death, dying and living

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

Instead, I'm going to talk about fear.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But is it living? 

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

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

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

It's adventurous. 

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

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

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

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

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

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