Here - Through it all

Through it all, through it all my eyes are on You;
Through it all, through it all it is well.
Through it all, through it all my eyes are on You,
And it is well ... with me.  (c) Kristene DiMarco, Bethel Music

I just finished reading an amazing article. It's about photographs taken from INSIDE THE EYE of Hurricane Dorian while it was still a Category 2 Hurricane off the coast of the United States. 

It's full of birds. All kinds of birds!  Flying, sitting in the still water if they are able to swim, resting on anything that floats if they can't swim, they stay in the eye of the storm until it makes landfall, where they stay. If ships are in the eye of the storm, they rest on the ship.  

Amazing.  

This is a photo of Tropical Cyclone Catarina,
clearly showing the eye of the storm, courtesy of
a contributor to Pixabay.com

The analogy is plain between this image and the storms of life, so I won't belabour it here. But the mental picture of the eye of the storm being calm and a refuge for those caught in it ... is a powerful one. I can think of several incidents, not only in my life but in those of others, where this is the reality: we have stayed in the midst of turbulent circumstances and yet there has been an inner calm, a 'peace that surpasses all understanding' (Phil 4:7), that has steadied us and been a refuge for us. It's not that we are unaffected by the storm at all, it's just that our  focus has been on the One who is the Centre of all things. 

I've experienced a real hurricane before. Hurricane Juan (Sept. 29, 2003) visited our province and caused all kinds of damage to property, shoreline, and power lines.  We had not been listening to or watching the news for the previous few days, and I had been on vacation so away from the office grapevine, so we were totally unprepared. During the fury of the storm that morning, my husband and I felt we had to go outside because water was pouring over the edges of our rain gutters. 

We were soaked to the skin within two seconds, and we got the ladder out anyway. I held the extension ladder while hubby went up and cleared out the debris from the gutters, a job that we have since learned must be done in mid-summer. The rain and wind were blinding; the wind itself ripped our breath away from us, and we had to keep our chins tucked down to our chests to be able to breathe. And we were only out there for about five minutes. We lost three of our eleven shade trees in that storm. 

In hindsight, it was kind of crazy of us to venture outside. But we did experience the strength of a Category 1 hurricane - as least as much as we ever want to (if we wanted to, which I doubt). I'll never forget it. 

Yet, through it all, we were protected. We discovered a large, one-foot-in-diameter tree limb suspended in the maple tree that was right next to our house. It had been ripped off one of our other trees and became a projectile that was hurtling right at our picture window. And the maple tree's limbs caught it and didn't allow it to travel further. A mini-tornado (common in hurricanes, I've been told) landed on one of our other large shade trees (60 feet tall) and twisted it at the trunk as if it was a matchstick, slamming it onto the lawn. That tree was about 25 feet from our front door. When it hit the ground, it hit at an angle about 60 degrees to the house, so it missed us completely, still tethered by a portion of its own trunk to the ground. 

As I ponder this event, I am overwhelmed by a sense of divine protection - even in our ignorance - during Juan's devastating visit. And as Hurricane Dorian nears our province later today, I am trusting in God's protection for us and our home and property. 

And for the storms of our lives and circumstances, I am trusting that same kind of protection in the emotional and spiritual sense. I know we are in the Centre. 

So it's all good. Through it all, it is well ... with me. With us. 
He is here in the midst.

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.  

Tempest in a coffee cup

It started when a certain coffee shop chain decided not to feature an obviously Christmas-y decorated cup for the holiday season like every other coffee shop chain.  The most vocal outrage came from .... Christians.  First they bought the coffee and wrote Merry Christmas on the cups (ummm, doesn't that put MORE money in the chain's account?) and then there were calls to boycott ... and the debate raged hot and heavy on social media .... and so on, until everyone was (and is) sick of it. 

Oh come ON.

Photo "Homeless Man" courtesy of
Mantas Ruzveltas at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Of all the things to crusade for, this is what gets attention? A paper coffee cup?  How about the homeless in your neighbourhood?  How about the teenage girls who don't think they have any other option but to get an abortion when they get pregnant? How about the co-worker who is so lonely that he is considering suicide - how much would it cost to sit with him over a cup of hot chocolate and a cookie once in a while? or smile and say hello to him by name in the corridor?  How about the neighbour who needs his grass cut but can't afford to repair his lawnmower? How about you use your imagination to see how many ways you can do some good for someone else?  Who freaking CARES what your coffee cup has printed (or not printed) on it? 

I absolutely detest confrontation.  But I am so steamed about this small example of self-righteousness that I want to confront people who argue and judge over things that just don't matter. They don't!  It doesn't matter whether Joe Blow politician does or believes something you don't agree with.  It doesn't matter if people say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays.  It doesn't!  

Stop trying to Christianize everything!  It doesn't matter whether the preacher wears a tie.  It doesn't matter whether people believe in the big bang theory.   News flash: there are a lot of good-hearted people who aren't Christians. And they (and others who aren't quite so nice) are watching us, watching how we act and react.  And they have concluded that we're a pretty pathetic bunch.  

And they're right. As a group, in Western society, we really are.  A lot of us see demons in dishrags, angels in the shape of birds, and we can't even enjoy a simple pleasure like a sunset without turning it into an opportunity to beat people over the head with creationism. Here's another news flash: that doesn't "win souls." That makes people want to avoid us - and not because we're being persecuted for righteousness' sake.  It's because we're weird. And not in a good way, but in a space-cadet, whacked-out way!!

The truth is, we don't live in a Christian society.  We live in a secular society. So did the early Christians.  You didn't see them carrying placards and staging demonstrations against the blood sport at the Coliseum.  You didn't see them writing their emperor to have the taxes lifted.  You didn't see them going around judging people either.  What you saw was them loving people, being good to people.  You saw them enjoying life, being happy, and being generous.  

Christians are real people in a real relationship with a real Person.  And that Person is really into being good to people (ALL people), loving them, bringing them joy, no matter where on the journey they are.  He went to the limit and beyond to rescue the whole world... to show us His love. 

Put that in your coffee cup and drink it.  Live THAT out in real love and compassion, without trying to one-up someone else or prove a point.  I dare you.

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.

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.

Spent

More and more the last few weeks I've been working hard and doing assignments and reading and studying, fretting about deadlines and schedules and making up time lost from work by going to school and making up lost study time by taking precious vacation time from work ... all to reach the culmination which happened tonight - nearly three hours of filling in black dots and writing short and long essays in words that are as alien and numbing to my personality as the dread long winter in Narnia before Aslan came to it. 

Photo "Snowy Morning" courtesy
of Evgeni Deniv at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I'm spent. I've used up all my resources. I'm all in.

Work, even the work that I like, has lost its appeal. Everything is gray. I've kept going by repeating to myself, "Eyes on the prize," but more and more, lately, my heart has not been in it. 

Little things from all the different areas of my life: home, school, work, church, extended family, health concerns of those I love, and grief from what seems like a long string of deaths, tear at me. They erode my spirit, like those relentless droplets in the infamous Japanese water torture, hammer away at my heart and leave it hollow, washed out, fragmented, and useless. 

I feel drained. Used up. Desperately I seek for strength, for joy, for life. I woder how to get my life, my peace back. And then it hits me.

He was spent for me. He used up all His resources ... for me. He went all in - so I could be all in Him. He drained His life's blood for me. He was used up and spilled out ... for me. 

And in that realization of His love so strong that He would rather die than live without me, in this good news in and of itself, there is strength. There is joy. There is life.

The thrill that He loves me that much bubbles up inside like the sound of water gurgling under the ice in the winter - distant, yet there and growing stronger, fighting against the punishing, restraining, frozen deadness. It soothes, embraces, restores my soul. 

It breathes life into me. I can live again.

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 arm of flesh

Stand up, stand up for Jesus
  Stand in His strength alone - 
The arm of flesh will fail you, 
  Ye dare not trust your own ...

We have sung about the strength of God until we are blue in the face. We have said with our mouths that we do not trust "the arm of flesh." That we don't trust in our own strength, but in His. 

Until ... until we turn around and we're presented with an opportunity to trust in our own abilities ... or in God's. And what do we do? "Oh well, I'll take it from here, God. Yeah, I got this covered. No, I'll just call You in for the hard stuff." 

Hmm. Really. 

Yeah we believe in spiritual warfare, pulling down unseen strongholds. But what do we do when we feel threatened by something in our society? we write our member of parliament, of course. And we don't even see that what we are doing is depending on "the arm of flesh." It's the WORLD's way of doing business. Squawk, make a fuss, stand up for your rights, sign a petition, join a march, carry a placard. Because after all, God is not able to change anything, right? 

Sure, we say we are all for people growing spiritually. And then when we are speaking or even sharing something on Facebook, we belittle them by saying, 'Can't I even get an Amen?' or 'you should have done ____ instead!' ... and making them feel guilty that their expression of spirituality is not spiritual enough, not what we're looking for, substandard. That kind of behavior is classic codependent manipulation, trying to make ourselves feel better by trying to control the behavior of others. I know ... because I have had it done to me. AND ... I've done it myself. Either way, it's not a nice feeling.

Photo "The Cross And The Hand"
courtesy of njaj at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

And that's not counting all the little instances of everyday assumptions we make that are completely self-serving and self-centered. Things like buying into the world's mindset that we can change our own destinies, that we can do anything we set our minds to, that we are owed certain things and that it is up to US to change our world, to do do do until we drop drop drop. No, that's not the way it works. GOD can change our destinies, we can do all things (by the way that means that we can face being poor AND rich, check out the context in Philippians 4) through HIM, and we owe HIM our lives and our gratitude for all that HE has done to be in relationship with us, to impart His righteousness to us. It is up to GOD to change our world and the only part we play in that is just being enthralled with how wonderful HE is to have made it all possible. He will look after the results, one heart at a time. 

I've said it before. His yoke is easy. The arm of flesh WILL fail; it will fail because it is human. The everlasting Arms are inexhaustible. They will never fail. They alone can hold us up, help us stand, and fight our battles. 

Our only work, then, (and the more we realize how deep His love is for us, the less work it is) is to lean hard on those Arms... the ones that once were flesh so as to redeem our spirits once for all eternity. 

Wanting from within

Aesop wrote a fable about a man walking down the road with a cloak on, over his clothes. Meanwhile, the sun and the wind were arguing about which was more powerful (well, mostly the wind. Which is a whole other post!)

So the sun suggested a contest. "Whichever of us can get the man to remove his cloak is the most powerful." The wind agreed. "You go first," the sun said.

So the wind blew and blew. The man pulled his cloak around him tighter. Not wanting to appear to have lost, the wind blew harder. The man braced himself against the force of the wind, and held even more tightly to his cloak. 

Then it was the sun's turn as the wind gave up. The sun remained where he was, and shone brilliantly, heating the air - and the man - with his rays. Soon the man began to mop his forehead. He loosened his cloak and finally stopped and removed it, draping it over his arm before continuing on - with a smile. 

Photo "Silhouette Of People On Hill" courtesy of
moggara12 at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

The moral of the story was that one can accomplish more with kindness than with force. I'd go a step further and apply this fable to the modern church. And by modern I mean anything after 900 AD.

The wind in this fable is the tendency to judge, to make someone conform to a strict moral code and then punish that person when he or she doesn't toe the line. This is most often attempted by the manipulative act known as shaming. (Yeah, you've had it happen to you. And like me, you've probably done it to others too, and felt completely justified in doing so ...) The problem with shaming is that it NEVER works. Instead, it causes the person to withdraw or move away, to try to appease and become a chameleon (not being real is never a good idea), or to confront or take out their anger and hurt on that person or group. I could do a whole post on this too. But not today. :)

The sun, by contrast, is the love and grace of God, the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, and the compassion of Jesus. This is an internal motivator. 

God doesn't shame us. He accepts us. He has made us "accepted in the Beloved." (Ephesians 1:6). He loves us ... and this great love (that is the cause of Jesus' sacrifice on our behalf) makes it possible for Him to call us His children! (1 John 3:1)

In fact, His grace goes so very deep that Paul, after exploring how deep it is in Romans 5:8-11, addresses in Romans 6:1 the one fear I have heard so often expressed by "people of the wind" - how it's possible (and they can't accept this possibility in their works-based theology) to abuse God's grace by continuing in sin!! But Paul has just finished chapter 5 by implying that such a presumptuous lifestyle would be possible, given the depths of God's grace: "...where sin abounded, grace did much more abound..." (5:20)! His response to that hypothetical question is immediate. In chapter 6:2 (in that confusing Pauline language because well, he's Paul and he used to be a Pharisee, what can I say!!) he responds, "Of course not!! Why would you want to?" (Judy's paraphrase there...)

And that is just the point. Why would you WANT to?  Wanting to is the whole point, the whole reason why God made a way in Jesus to escape the consequences of our own inability to rescue ourselves. He wanted us to want Him. Not because He was holding our feet to the fire - that would be such bondage!! Grace - because God is the most - had to be the most anyone could imagine and then way beyond! This is the whole idea behind the scripture, "...the love of Christ constrains us." (2 Cor 5:14) That word "constrains" means "motivates from within" or "strains from inside or alongside." And that isn't something we drum up, working ourselves into a frenzied lather like the prophets of Baal did on Mount Carmel, trying to impress God with how holy we are. "In this is Love. Not that we love Him, but that HE LOVED US and sent His Son to be the propitiation [the wrath-taker] for our sins." (1 John 4:10). 

He did it. HE did it!! 

This full and free grace frees us. Completely! It buys us back (at SUCH great cost!!) from the slave-trader and makes us completely right with God, no holds barred, and declares that we are no longer slaves. Why would we want to go back to that kind of life, trying to keep with our own efforts what we could never have paid for in the first place? 

Wouldn't it be so much better to let the Sun shine in?

Between His Shoulders

I've been following a new blogger lately. She's been writing about something that to a lot of believers would be a 'ho-hum' topic: Grace. 

When I read what she writes, though, my heart stirs within me because she doesn't just talk about Grace as some theological construct but as a moment-by-moment, vibrant experience that has transformed her life even in the most mundane of experiences. She writes from personal, transformational experience and it's very, VERY hard to argue with that.

Not that I'd want to.

I've written many times about the gullible Galatians who thought they could add to what Jesus had done for them by keeping the law, following the rules, compiling a list of dos and don'ts. And I've said many times that this is the fallacy into which the modern church has fallen. Some have called this the Jezebel spirit - the spirit of religion. It is a very narrow view of a very wide, vast God.

My friend understands that, and for many years she lived in that religious experience. But she also understands and has experienced the truth: that the Christian life is just Jesus. That's it. There's nothing more complicated about it than that. Because of what Jesus did, we are forgiven: past, present, and future. No amount of straining or trying harder will make Him love us more or make us love Him more. It's just Him. Just His Grace. 

Many people I hang around with are actually frightened by that kind of talk. They think that saying that we don't have to DO anything once we are born again is equivalent to a license to sin (you know, "I can do anything I want because God will forgive me so I think I'll just go hog-wild.") I understand that the idea of that kind of Grace wouldn't make sense to someone who still believes more in the depravity of human nature than in God's unconditional love, who is thinking in human terms because human love is so often dependent on what the other person does or doesn't do. But God is bigger than that. His love isn't like our love. His love is limitless, lavish, and totally scandalous in its intensity.

Something my new friend said on her blog recently (in fact, her blog was how we met) struck me and vibrated something inside of me that was just waiting, longing for someone else to "get" this: "I have yet to see a heart that is gripped by God's unbelievable grace that wants to go out and sin. Just doesn't happen like that. No way. No how. In fact, I would have to argue that the opposite occurs!" (Read her whole post here.) 

Photo "Portrait Of A Baby Sheep In The Farm" courtesy of
ponsulak at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

 All afternoon, I've been reminded of an expression I read in the Old Testament somewhere and I knew I had to go look it up. It was a blessing that Moses pronounced on the tribe of Benjamin (which means 'Son of my right hand').  I found it in Deuteronomy 33:12 - "May the beloved of the Lord dwell in security by Him, who shields him all the day, and he dwells between His shoulders."

The picture of God's beloved one dwelling between God's shoulders has stayed with me for a long time ... for the place between His shoulders is His heart. The place of resting close to (or in) His heart takes me to Isaiah 40:11(b) - "In His arm He will gather the lambs and carry them in His bosom..." 

Jesus often used the metaphor of sheep to refer to His followers and He used the contrast between sheep and goats to talk about believers and unbelievers. Though related, sheep and goats are completely different species [and even if a sheep acts like a goat, it's still a sheep. (Just saying.)] Sheep respond to being led... or carried. Goats must be DRIVEN, forced to go where the goat-herd wants them to go. 

Once, we were spiritual goats. We needed to be externally motivated (i.e., given a good swift smack) to behave ourselves. Then we heard the Good News. The Shepherd had given His life for His sheep and offered to make us into new creations. Yes... sheep. A total species change. Only He had the power to do it, and once done, it was done for good. To the uttermost! There was nothing we could do to earn it; He did it all. And there is nothing we can do to keep it. He does the keeping. We have no strength? No problem. He picks us up and carries us between His shoulders, in His heart.

Because He loves us.
So.
Much. 

What matters most

We sat in a common area for visitors to our building and caught up with our friend's news. We hadn't really had a chance to touch base with him in years, just a few dribs and drabs here and there in bits and snatches of conversations we'd had. We thought to ourselves how pleasant, how calm and peaceful he was.

In the background, a chorale was practicing songs from the First and Second World Wars. I recognized, "Over there... over hill, over dale, over there," but instead of them singing, "..the Yanks are coming," they sang, "...the troops are coming." It's Canada, after all.

Our friend was telling us about his latest news.  "They knew it was cancer around the first of May. At first they thought it was mesothelioma," he continued, "which carries a maximum life expectancy of two years. And then they did some more biopsies and discovered that it was leukemia. Stage two." He paused and smiled. "Thank God. Really. I'm grateful it wasn't the one they thought it was."

We shook our heads in disbelief, and asked him if he had started any treatment yet.

"Not yet." He paused, and looked toward the right as if trying to remember something. "They said that the body builds up an immunity to the drug they use quite quickly, so if they use it too soon, it won't be as effective when the time comes to really fight it."

It. The Cancer. 

He was talking about it as a separate entity.

Asked if he would mind if we put him on our prayer chain, he grinned and said, "By all means. I believe in healing. But whether it happens or not, I'm okay with it.  I'm ready.  Everyone dies sometime."

The chorale was still practicing a French Canadian ballad: "Un Canadien errant, bani de ses foyers, parcourait en pleurant des pays étrangers..." (translation: A wandering Canadian, banished from hearth and home, went about singing in foreign lands). The haunting melody echoed in the large room and pierced my heart; it took on new meaning as our friend continued sharing his heart.

"Heaven. It's like retirement - you hear about it when you're young and it doesn't seem real, like a pipe dream or something. But I guess I'll get there before you will." Then he smiled - that slow, real, beautiful smile that always made you feel like you were the most important person in the world.

And then the smile faded. "I'm just sad for my wife, that's all."

He talked about how the cancer had forced him to make a decision to live life, really LIVE it, enjoy each day instead of one day just blending into the next mindlessly. "My wife and I have been really happy these last two years," he told us. "I've learned how to have a real God-centred marriage, something I wish I'd known the first time around. It's made such a difference. I can't believe it sometimes."

"I've been thinking a lot about the old song, 'His Eye is on the Sparrow.' He really is looking after me, and I don't have any dread of what lies ahead." 

"If I passed away tomorrow, I could still say that I've been over-blessed."

Over-blessed. Really. My throat felt tight; my eyes and nose stung. After all he'd been through already. And now this. And he felt over-blessed.

Photo "Throwing Fishing Net During Sunset"
courtesy of noomhh at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

He talked frankly about the long medical road ahead, and how he didn't know what lay in store for him in the valley of the shadow. "But surprisingly," he said, "there is absolutely no fear. I'm not afraid at all." 

"It's a long way to Tipperary, it's a long way to home..."

He asked how we were doing, and apologized for talking about himself so much. We said it was okay, that we had wanted to know how he was. We shared some of how life had been for us the last few months, and then (as time was short) we exchanged email addresses for the purpose of setting up another time to meet and connect. 

We stood up, each to go our separate ways. He spoke one final time. "If there's one thing that I want to come out of this whole thing, it's that I want God to be glorified. I want for His Kingdom to be advanced, you know?" 

We nodded, tears in our eyes. 

We know. 

One Set of Footprints

I'm sure most Christians have read the poem "Footprints in the Sand" by Mary Stevenson (copyright 1984).

Someone reminded me about that poem the other night when he said that when times got tough he would ask God to carry him for a little while until he could walk on his own again. 

Photo, "Footprints on the Beach Sand"
courtesy of foto76 at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

A nice sentiment, I thought. Then, later (which is often the case when I hear people say things) I got to thinking about that. 

Why would I want to be anywhere else but resting in His arms? 

Isn't it the fact that we can't live the way He intended without His power (i.e., His Holy Spirit) giving grace and strength every moment, the sole reason why He came to pay our ransom and open the way to an intimate relationship with His Father? Why would I want to cheapen that by insisting on doing things myself? 

I'm not saying that I am folding my hands and singing Kum-Ba-Yah here. But what I am saying is that I would rather do nothing at all than do something in my own strength. 

"I am the Vine," Jesus said. "You are the branches." (John 15) He was speaking of a vital connection, a continual communion between trunk and boughs. "Without Me you can do nothing." That's pretty clear language. It's not, "Hey I think I can do photosynthesis on my own for a while, so I'll just disconnect myself from the Vine and do it on my own." Nuh-uh. It doesn't work that way. Leaves dry up, fruit rots and the branch dies. Not days or weeks later (even though the signs might take a while to show up) - immediately. The Life Source is cut off. 

Paul spoke of this idea as well when he wrote to the Galatian church: "Who has bewitched you? Having begun by the Spirit, are you now completed by the flesh?" (Gal. 3:1).

I've spoken of this idea of connectedness, of intimacy, many times before. I've warned people that it's not about how much you DO, what you've given up, what miracles you've performed in the power of God, or even how many converts you get. It's about knowing Him. Jesus said once, "Not everyone who says to Me, 'Lord, Lord' will enter into the kingdom. Many will say in that day, 'Didn't we heal the sick, raise the dead... in Your name?' And I will say to them, 'Depart from Me. I never knew you.' " 

Interesting, that choice of words. Of COURSE He knows us! He knows everyone! So what's the deal?

The word "know" here is the same kind of word that is used in a marriage relationship - that level of intimacy! In order for there to be that kind of knowing, the one being "known" must open herself to be loved by her husband. Willingly. Pardon the metaphor but it's what He meant!! The "I never knew you" means "You never let Me know you the way I wanted to. You never let Me show you how passionately I love you." 

It brings a whole new meaning to the words, "We love Him because He first loved us." Doesn't it?!

I for one am getting just a little tired of feeling the sand between my toes and trying to get to my destination in my own strength. I want to be in His arms, listening to His heartbeat. I want to experience His love, to love Him in return and feel that love overflow into the lives of others who so desperately need that total acceptance, that monumental strength and gentleness, for themselves.

I'm not ashamed to say that He carries me. All the time. As the song goes, "I can't even walk without You holdin' my hand; the mountain is too high, and the valley is too wide. Down on my knees, I learned how to stand because I can't even walk without You holdin' my hand." 

When I get to those gates and I see Him face to face, I want to be able to look back and only see one set of footprints. His. 

I'll recognize them. They'll each have a big hole in them. 

Consider Him

I love God's people. I do. The last few months especially, I've come to appreciate how incredibly amazing they can be: loving, supportive, generous, and compassionate. 

Sometimes, though, the "other side" of people raises its head and I find myself wondering what happened. People have their own agendas, their own "stuff" ... and sometimes that stuff gets in the way of good relationships. 

The hard truth is that because human beings are human beings, there are going to be situations where someone is going to get hurt. I understand that. I've hurt people before. And I've been hurt before. It happens. 

That doesn't mean it hurts any less or that the feelings are not valid. 

Lately there's been a situation where I have been feeling rejected and lied to, something that keeps happening with annoying regularity and which hurts. every. time. It happened again this week. Every time it happens, it feels like someone has struck me in the face. I feel rejected, undervalued and dismissed all over again. And every time I need to "deal" and find some peace in the situation because quite frankly, I don't see it ever changing. Call that a lack of faith if you want to, but it's also a whole lot of experience talking. 

Today as I sat in church (why is it that these things come to a head on Communion Sundays?) struggling with this recurring situation which was making me feel so worthless, I heard my pastor say (as he was introducing Communion) "He came to His own, and His own received Him not." (John 1:11)

Huh, I thought. Wait a sec. Jesus' own people rejected Him, dismissed Him, and ended up being responsible for His crucifixion. 

Not that my situation even comes close to His ... but then again, that's the point isn't it? The point is that He came here to make a way for humans to know God. And humans weren't interested in Him or in His mission, only in their own agendas and interpretations of why He was here. The Bible tells us that Jesus was "in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin." (Heb. 4:15) He went through all of that so that He could relate to our suffering. There is absolutely NOTHING I can go through, nothing that can happen to me or no emotion that I can feel, that He has not gone through or felt. 

He understands. 

Photo "Stained-glass Church Windows"
courtesy of franky242 at www.freedigitalphotos.net

"Consider Him who endured such contradiction of sinners against Himself, lest you be weary and faint in your minds." (Heb. 12:3)

We like to pretty it up, make it seem less gruesome than it really was, but the cross was a pretty awful place - the most barbaric form of execution ever known to humankind up until that time in the history of the world. The scourging itself was enough to kill someone, but Jesus was made of stern stuff physically (carpenter by trade, walked at least 30 miles a day), so to the cross He went, already weakened by loss of blood and barely recognizable as human.  The very people He came to help had turned on Him. Even His best friends deserted Him when it looked like the tide of popular opinion was against Him. How horrifyingly wrenching! And to top it all off, He the One Person that mattered most to Him ... His Father ... would turn His back on Jesus. 

And I think MY problems are big. 

Needless to say I had to have a conversation with Him today about this thing I had considered to be so hurtful. And I thanked Him for understanding, and for being patient with me. I realize that the situation is probably never going to go away, and I might need to have that conversation over and over again with Him. But that's okay. 

He understands.

Unfathomable

Every morning I wake up with a song in my head. The only exception to that has been the first three days after learning of our daughter's death nearly 3 weeks ago. 

Four days after we got the news, we sat in church; I remember that Teen Challenge Atlantic was there. The worship leader had chosen songs that morning that talked about the love of God. Every song spoke to me, washed over me, soaked into my parched and weary soul. 

There was one she led that morning that was on my mind as I woke this morning after a particularly long bout of insomnia led me to drift into an exhausted sleep and wake unrefreshed. It's a modern hymn, one I had assumed was in the hymn book but which I have discovered today was written only in 2012, by a songwriter / worship leader from England, Stuart Townend. The first verse goes like this:

How deep the Father's love for us - how vast beyond all measure - 
That He would give His only Son to make a wretch His treasure. 
How great the pain of searing loss - the Father turns His face away - 
As wounds which mar the Chosen One bring many sons to glory. 

As I listened to (and sang) these words that Sunday, and let them sink into my spirit, I realized something that I already knew but which struck me as if it was the very first time. I'd always looked at the anguish of the Son as He cried out, "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?" as the pain of Calvary. And it's true; Jesus gave up EVERYTHING for us.

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

But, as if for the first time, I saw (first-hand by experience) the Father-Heart of God. I recognized the sacrifice that the Father made ... letting them kill His Baby ... and it brought home to me the words to a passage of scripture that has always been precious to me  ...  and now even more so: Isaiah 40:28-31, and in particular, the tail end of verse 28: "No one can measure the depths of His understanding." (NLT) In other words, it's unfathomable.  He understands fully and in every way the pain of losing a child - and knows the awful, horrible and heart-wrenching joy of countless lives being changed for the better (as weird as that sounds) as a result. 

That day it arose in my heart that God understood better than anyone the pain of that kind of loss, that kind of sacrifice, that kind of grief. That He could have STOPPED it - something that I couldn't have done for my daughter no matter how hard I tried - and DIDN'T ... out of His deep love for us - for me - explodes into my spirit in such depth as I never knew I was able to experience before. How vast beyond all measure!!

As our daughter's mother, seeing already how many people's lives have been transformed and impacted by her life - and now by her death - I can only know a small glimmer of the Father's loss at Calvary, and catch a peek of His joy at bringing thousands, millions, maybe even billions into relationship with Him, rescuing them from certain death as a result. 

But to know that God the Father knows, that HE has experienced that same pain far greater than I ever could, helps me to trust Him even more, and to know that how I feel (as terrible as that is sometimes) is allowed ... even right ... for the circumstances. It grants me permission to bury myself in His understanding, to let His deep and abiding love envelop me and carry me. 

Any strength that people have seen in me or in us since the accident is simply not mine or ours; it is His. My - our - knees are just as weak and feeble as they always were. Truly, "Little ones to Him belong; they are weak, but He is strong."

It's hard ... the loss is very real and we miss our little firecracker so very much ... but God is THERE. He is holding us. He is good. And He understands.

God speaks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And God started to speak to me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank You, God.  I needed to hear that.