Impossible Obedience

I've been reading two very different books in the last two weeks... here are some thoughts they are provoking:

      Ask for the impossible. This is coming from reading Kisses from Katie. I see in the stories that Katie Davis tells, a stubborn insistence to take God at His word. He says we are to care for the poor and the widows and orphans. And so Katie repeatedly sets out to do the impossible because she believes that if God commands something, He will supply what is necessary to do it. And so, as a single woman, she rents a four bedroom house in Uganda because she believes God will use the space for something she knows nothing about. And she ends up adopting fourteen children and the house becomes full. And she accepts more children into her sponsorship program than she has sponsors to pay for, and she trusts that the money will come because God brought her the children. She puts herself in danger from sickness because she remembers Jesus touched even the lepers and she wants to love like he did and so she allows kids with scabies to live in her home and possibly infect her whole house. But they don’t. This girl’s faith can move mountains. Because she believes that God can do anything… and so she asks for everything.

      Be obedient. In the final chapter of Authorityto Heal, Ken Blue talks about the connection between obedience and authority. When Adam and Eve sinned, they lost God’s authority to rule. When Jesus remained obedient, even unto death, He was given all authority in heaven and earth. And then he commanded us to go and do what He had done, under his authority. But when we are disobedient, we lost his authority and we become impotent. And so then, life becomes a question of obedience. I see Katie’s life of obedience and God’s movement in her actions. God tells us to care for the least of these, the widows and the orphans. As Katie obeys, I see His authority breaking out of her life and transforming the world around her, one life at a time. And I read Ken Blue’s stories of healing. God told us to ask for healing… and so he asks. And as he asks, God’s healing breaks out, restoring broken lives. "We have faith in what Jesus did 2000 years ago, but we are often crippled with doubt when asked to believe what he might do today." Ken Blue

      And so I am asking myself… what have I written off as impossible? What have I decided it’s not worth asking because it’s not within the realm of reality? And whose reality have I allowed to determine the boundaries of my life? I have a few friends who are sick... am I asking the impossible, believing that nothing is impossible for God? Or am I allowing common sense and modern medicine to tell me what is reasonable to pray for? And am I being obedient to what I’ve been called to? Where am I avoiding following through? Where am I using reasonable limitations to squelch the kingdom? Where have I allowed the boundaries of politely agreed upon reality to stifle my obedience to Christ?

Longing for things to be made right

For the past month, I've found myself saying these words more and more often.

It's been 285 days since we've had measurable snowfall in Chicago. It's not right.

It's getting harder and harder to find foods in the form in which God made them. It's not right.

Two of my good friends are struggling under the weight of chronic illness which, among other sadnesses, compromises their ability to care for their children.  It's not right.

A little boy, less than six months old, has a near brush with death because of a brain tumor. It's not right.

Twenty children die in an elementary school shooting. It's not right.

The world is broken. Creation is unraveling. Things are not the way they are supposed to be.

Repay evil with evil or overcome evil with good? Seek vengeance or forgiveness? Doubt everything and everyone or trust? Come to terms with what is or seek change? Preserve and protect or let go? Save or give? Despair or hope? These are the tensions that we live into every day. Since the dawn of time, human hearts have been conflicted.

Recently, my kids are getting to the age when they're asking the perennial questions of evil. "God can control the weather, so why doesn't He stop hurricanes? Why doesn't God wipe out the mosquitoes that cause malaria? Ordinary mosquitoes are bad enough! Why do we have to get the flu? Why do people shoot each other?" Different clothes on the same question body... "Why are things so broken?" It's not right.

And my heart aches... because it's true. Things are so broken. The world is not the way it's supposed to be. It's not right.

Just by speaking, God made everything! In the beginning, everything was good. Adam and Eve were happy to be made in God's own image. God was glad, because when He looked at His world, He saw that everything was right... Adam and Eve trusted God's strong and powerful words.

Satan crept into the garden, looking like a snake. Satan hated God. Satan wanted to BE God and would do whatever it took to turn God's people away from God. And so he asked questions... about God's goodness, about God's word, and about God's good rule. Adam and Eve had a very important choice. They could choose to listen to the strong and powerful words of their good King, or they could listen to Satan. Adam and Eve were very confused... was God good? Did He want their best? What would it be like to rule over themselves? And so they took the fruit...

What an incredibly sad day... Their relationship with their good King had been broken. Adam and Eve blamed each other and grew distant. Because of their sin, all of creation began to unravel... sickness... sadness... pain... death. The world that had been right and good was now broken and terribly wrong.

Disease, hunger, violence, pain, arguments, war, fear, hate... it's not right.

But on this incredibly sad day, God also had good news. God promised that one day, He would send Someone who would come and crush Satan and break his power over God's people.

As we remember Advent, we remember the fulfillment of that promise.  A light shines into the darkness and the darkness has not, cannot, and will not overcome it. There is peace again between God's people. And our relationship with our good King has been restored.

But even in the midst of these promises that have already been fulfilled. We know that there's still more to come.

One day, all of creation will be made right again. There will be no more sickness, no more sadness, no more pain, no more death. At His second Advent, there will once again be a special place where God dwells among His people... when we will be like Him, for we will see Him as He truly is. God Himself will be our King and will live among us and we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

And so even as we live in the midst of the already and await the not yet, we can proclaim that Christ is coming to make everything right... to make all things new... Christ IS overcoming pain and sadness and sickness and death... and we CAN hope, because Christ is coming back to make all things right!

Lord Jesus, I long for the world to be made right. Come, Lord Jesus, in your mercy.

Christ Hidden in the Unworthy, Part 2

In the aftermath of yesterday's election, I see us lamenting what we see as the sorting systems of political parties... deciding who's worthy and who's not worthy of tax dollars, protection, and initiatives (the elderly / unborn, the poor / the wealthy, the unemployed / corporations, the uninsured / health industry).  And I wonder if there is anything to be learned from Matthew 25.

We see a description of an event that will take place at the last judgment.  All the nations are being gathered before Christ, who has come in glory with all his angels.  As all nations are there before Him, Christ begins a sorting process of His own.

And so Jesus begins this process of putting some people on his right hand and putting the rest on his left.  When all the people are sorted and divided, he speaks to the people on each side and explains that they will be judged according to how they have treated the least of these… how they have sorted the people in their lives.  Those who fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, cared for the sick, and visited those in prison are the ones who will be called righteous and will inherit the kingdom.  Those who ignored the needs of the least will be cast away. 

The thing that is so telling about this picture is that neither the sheep nor the goats, the righteous nor the unrighteous, had any idea that Christ was involved in these actions or lack of these actions.  And so we get the idea that the sheep were living their lives in such a way that they were feeding, clothing, and visiting because they saw value in those activities that had nothing to do with gaining righteousness.  They didn’t do any of these things to please God, to gain recognition, or to raise their reputation. And they didn't rely on government programs to do these things for them.

Instead, they fed because people were hungry and they were unwilling to let people go hungry.  They clothed others because they were not OK with people having no clothing. They visited the forgotten because they were not content to let others be starved for affection.  And so we see these sheep feeding, clothing, and visiting in a very unself-conscious way… for no personal gain or reward.  These were people who lived according to the rule of compassion… the rule of love.  They were attentive to the people around them and were willing to take the time and give resources to see to the well-being of others. And they weren't willing to wait for a congress that would pass laws to make it happen.

And these sheep discovered that

Christ hides himself in the unworthy.

On the other hand, we see the goats being upset because if they had only known that Christ was somehow present in these people they probably would have done everything they could to minister to Christ.  Instead, they hadn’t seen any reason to give their time, attention, or resources to such lowly and unworthy people.  They had gone through their sorting process and had put the least of these into a category to be ignored.  They had decided who was worthy and who was not.  Rather than making these decisions according to compassion or love, they probably used a very different set of priorities. We accuse political parties of goat-like behavior... but in actuality, are we, as individuals, any less goat-ish than the party we oppose? 

What things do we find in our daily lives taking precedence over love and compassion? And who do we expect to do the loving and compassionate thing when we believe we are too busy or unwilling?

If Jesus suddenly became obviously clear in the presence of the people we’ve dismissed as not worth our time and energy, we would probably rush to serve him…

We can relate to the goats. We can imagine ourselves saying… “well, Jesus, if I had known that you were present in... I would have... If I had known… if only I had known…"

Christ hides himself in the unworthy.

I'm not suggesting that we don't ever concern ourselves with politics... and I'm not saying that all social problems would be solved if we would just be better neighbors (although I think it would help)... but I am wondering if part of our frustration with the failings of political systems might be better pointed at our own expectations that the government should somehow do what we, as followers of Christ, have been called to do.  I know there's a lot to argue with here... and I know I'm naive... and I have so much to learn.  Admittedly, I don't live in a neighborhood that has been prey to systemic injustice and so I haven't experienced, firsthand, the same need for systemic intervention... but I know the need is real. Historically, the biggest positive differences in this world have come through the love, sacrifice and courage of individuals and communities resisting systems long before a system ever shifted. And so I simply ask the question, "are we doing our part?' And I guess I'm being honest in saying that I have no hope that our government is going to do much good in the years to come.

Christ, Hidden in the Unworthy: Part 1

A few weeks ago, I flew to Richmond, VA for a meeting.  I flew out of O’Hare, through Charlotte, and into Richmond.  Along the way, I had plans.  I was going to do some study for an upcoming sermon, plan a lesson for my homeschool coop, do some journaling, and read part of a book that we’re reading together as pastors.  So as I was figuring out where to sit while waiting at the airport, I was sorting… because there are a few major groups of people who travel through airports.

There are the folks who are using their travel time to get things done and are not at all interested in interacting with anybody… and there are the folks who use their travel time as leisure time and are reading fiction, listening to music, or watching movies or tv shows on their ipads and phones and don’t want to be interrupted… and then there are the folks that want to talk.  They want to tell you all about why they’re traveling, where they’ve been, what they did or what they’re going to do, and they want to ask you all the same questions.

This last group is the group I was doing my best to avoid. I immediately spotted a few of them and strategically placed myself as far from them as I could in the waiting area.  And so when I got on the plane and found that the people I was seated next to on both flights were in one of the first two categories, I was relieved… thankful… and I got a lot done.

I had decided, without articulating or even recognizing my decision, that everyone in the airport and everyone I was flying with was not worth my time or my attention.  I was basically staying in my own little ‘bubble’ and hoping no one would intrude.  I was simply not paying attention to anyone but myself.

I wonder how many of us engage in sorting processes like I did.  I wonder how quickly we decide who is and who is not worthy of our time, attention, and resources.  Do we sort people based on their politics? Their efficiency and productivity – what they contribute to the world or to our life? How funny they are? Do we sort people who aren’t in the same life stage as we are? What kinds of categories do we have for our coworkers?  For neighbors on our street?  For family members?  What about when we encounter strangers? How do we decide who is worthy of our time and who isn’t?  And how quickly do we make those decisions?  And how do those sorting processes… those categories we set up… affect us and the world around us?  Do they affect Christ?

What are your thoughts?

What's in a Name?

Cynthia. Cyndi. Sid. Syd. Cyd
Each of these has been my name during some season of my life. A friend asked me the other day if I had always been Cyd... and as another friend came at the very end of the story, she also wanted to hear it.  So I was encouraged to blog about it...

It all started with the youngest one in curls. My mom never admitted to naming me after Cindy Brady... but I can only imagine that the prime time show had something to do with the popularity of the name for girls born between 1970 and 1975. But my mom, in her urge to always be at least a little bit different, kept the Cy from my full name, Cynthia, and so decided my name would be "Cyndi." Early on, I learned to spell my name out loud as "C-Y-N-D-I" to the response of, "oh... that's an interesting spelling."

I began playing the clarinet in 5th grade and it became a compelling passion in my life, leading to my participation in the Grand Rapids Youth Symphony Orchestra in high school. But, being a person who loves variety, I wanted to branch out... and so I borrowed a friend's flute and fiddled around for a while, but had even better luck with the alto sax. I loved the rich texture of the sax and I was fortunate enough to be able to join the jazz band at my high school, along with my friends, Tom (trumpet) & Corey (sax).

Enter Joe Jackson.  (Don't worry, the pieces will all come together soon).  Tom was a big fan of Joe Jackson, and especially his Jumping Jive album.  One of the songs was a cover of a Lester Young / King Pleasure song. If you haven't heard the song, you really should follow the link and give it a listen.  It's a pretty swinging song and if you've heard it, you'll better understand the rest of the context. The song is written about Symphony Sid (Sid Torin), who has been credited as being the DJ who introduced jazz to the general public.

In addition to the alto sax's prominence, it's just a really great piece of big band jazz.  Somehow, Tom started calling me "Youth Symphony Sid" because of this song... and we did an awful lot of jumping in the city together with our friends back in the day and so it fit... aside from the "my boy" part.  Eventually, I became "Sid" to Tom & Corey and a few other friends. But Cyndi was still my name to most folks.

In 1990, I left Grand Rapids and headed to St. Olaf College, to major in clarinet performance. One of the first people to call me in my new context was Tom. My roommate, Johanna, answered the phone and Tom asked for "Sid."  When Johanna had no idea who he was talking about, he corrected himself and asked for Cyndi. After hearing me called "Sid," Johanna decided she liked that better. And so everyone on my floor started calling me Sid along with all of my new friends. However, I was still Cyndi on all of the class rosters and so Cyndi remained.

At the end of my first year, I began to see the drawbacks of having more than one name. I had a French class with Maren. We enjoyed each other in class, but never saw each other in any other context. Toward the end of our first year, our circles of friends began dancing closer to each other and Maren began to hear of this girl named "Sid" who she needed to meet. Eventually, we ended up at the same party and I was introduced to her as "Sid," to which Maren was confused because she already knew me as Cyndi. Since Sid was beginning to feel a whole lot more like me than Cyndi, I began to ask my professors to call me Sid to keep things clear.

By the time I graduated from St. Olaf, I was consistently Sid in all areas of my life, except for the few holdouts from high school and my family. But when I moved to California to take a teaching job, Cynthia was on my driver's license, social security card, and resume, and so everyone on staff at the school where I taught called me Cyndi, as did all the parents of my students. Simultaneously, my friends - both old and new - still called me Sid.

When the phone rang in my apartment in those days, I could easily discern if this was a call for Cyndi, the teacher, or for Sid, the friend. These were the days before caller ID, and so the only way to find out who was calling was the answer the phone. I was too broke to call people back long distance, and so I didn't want to miss calls from friends. However, there were times when I just didn't have the energy to have a conversation with a parent about their concerns about their child. After all, this was the year that I taught in a portable classroom with a tin roof, on which it rained for 42 consecutive school days. I taught all subjects including music, art, and PE, and I supervised my own recesses (in that portable with the rain pounding down on the roof). Consequently, I developed a bit of a dishonest habit. If I received a call from someone asking to speak to Cyndi, I replied by letting them know that she wasn't available but I would be glad to take a message. If someone asked for Sid, I was happy to say it was me.

After a year of that nonsense, I took to the woods and started teaching outdoor education at a conference center in the Santa Cruz Mountains. It was in this place, where I lived, worked, and played with the same coworkers and friends that Cyndi and Sid finally integrated into one person.

This integration stayed with me through graduate school and into directing Elderhostel programs (now called Road Scholar). After having several folks show up to the first program I directed with shocked looks when I introduced myself as Sid, I had to ask what was so shocking about my name. One outspoken gentleman finally told me that, through all the correspondence I had sent people to prepare them for the program, he had been picturing me as a middle aged man. Although he was delighted to find a young woman, he could not hide the surprise on his face at finding such a contrast.

After asking several other program participants if they had similar imaginings, I realized that changing the spelling to "Syd" might help people to understand that I was a woman. Now people just imagined my name was Sydney. All along the way, my poor mother kept lamenting the loss of the name she had given me, so intentionally keeping the "Cy" from Cynthia. She kept telling me that Cynthia means "reflector of light" because the Greek goddess, Artemis, was also called Cynthia, having been born on Mt. Cynthus. She and my Dad had named me Cynthia Joy because they hoped I would reflect the light of Christ and bring joy to everyone I met.

But my little life was filled with early loss and confusion. My Dad was killed in a car accident when I was only 17 months old. For much of my life, fears and doubts blocked me from being a reflector of light and a bringer of joy. It wasn't until after my Mom's sudden death, that I finally changed the spelling to "Cyd," reintroducing the Cy to the nickname that had become my real name. About a year later, my mother-in-law started calling me Cynthia Joy in her place.

And so, Cynthia Joy Hoekstra became Cyndi Koetje (when my mom's new husband legally adopted me), Sid Koetje (the middle aged man), and eventually Cyd Holsclaw. And hopefully, along with the spelling change, I am becoming more consistent in reflecting the light of Christ and bringing the joy of his presence into the lives of those I meet.

Surrounded by a Cloud

counter- clockwise from top left: my grandparents, Ed&Pearl Compaan,  my mother, Edna Mae Koetje, Nathan Horne being baptized on Easter Sunday.

Today, at Life on the Vine, we celebrated All Saints Day. We hadn't really made a big deal about it before... and we still have a long way to go in order to really celebrate it well. But after today, I'm convinced it's truly important.

The reason we made a big deal out of it was because a man in our community stepped forward with a passion to see it happen.  He and his family joined us last year and he had been sad that we had moved right past it without much of a blip on our radar. And so he started talking to us about it, sharing his ideas... and he led us through the litany today absolutely beautifully.

He spoke with an artist in our community, who hung black & white photos of famous predecessors in the faith: Corrie TenBoom, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, Theresa of Avila, John Howard Yoder, Rosa Parks, AB Simpson (to name only a few).  As we gathered for worship this morning, we were, quite literally, surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.

We also brought photos of friends and family, spiritual guides and mentors, who have gone before us into perpetual worship. We laid them on the altar and we spent some time speaking their names aloud and remembering their impact on us and for the kingdom. A gong was run after each name was spoken.  

And in those moments, of speaking names and pausing for the gong, we shared one another's loss and felt the vacancy of the world without these saints. Tears ran down our cheeks and we sat in the tension of the already and the not yet. These names, which so tangibly represent the already, remind us of the perpetual tension of the not yet. Their lives have been gifts, their impact not quantifiable, and their absence is difficult.

But then we celebrated the new lives, born into our community in the last year.  After each precious new name was spoken, a light and cheery bell broke the heavy silence... and the remembrance of our loss turned to our imagination for these little ones and the parts they will play in the inbreaking kingdom.

His kingdom comes... in our loss, in our imagination for what is to come, in remembering the great cloud of witnesses, and in praying for the daily deliverance from evil in kingdom prayer.

And so, as I move into the darkening days of the fall and the winter, today frames the loss of my birth father, my mother, my grandparents into an urge to live well... to press on... to throw off everything that hinders.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.  And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.  For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart." Hebrews 12:1-3

Ushered into Deep Peace, Part 3

Without Christ’s presence among us, the truth can be the last thing we want to know about ourselves… and it’s certainly the last thing we want to tell each other. It’s uncomfortable.  It’s hard to interact at that depth. 

Without Christ, we can only hide… avoid… and stop shopping at Trader Joe’s.

The path of least resistance is to avoid one another… but the way of the cross is to seek peace with one another.

Christ’s presence in us, by His Holy Spirit, ushers us into deep peace with one another. 

Back to the Mom and her son...

After running a few more errands, the mom decided that the lesson that really needed to be learned for her son was the lesson of reconciliation.  Whatever else had happened, she couldn’t allow her son to live in this lie of shame and avoidance… not to mention that she needed to be able to shop at Trader Joe’s.  She explained to her son that his consequence was to go back to the man at Trader Joe’s and explain to him that he recognized the wrong he had done and was truly sorry… and to seek his forgiveness, whether forgiveness was a word in his vocabulary or not.

She promised the boy that she would go with him… but that he needed to do the talking.  He held her hand, taking deep breaths, and walked into the freezer section, where the man was  unloading a box of frozen fruit.  He looked at the man and said – in between tears, “I feel really badly about what I did.  Will you please forgive me?”  And the man said, “I forgive you.”  (the mom could have hugged the man for not brushing it off!)  “We all make mistakes,” he said… now we just need to learn from it and keep moving forward.”  And the boy heaved a huge sigh of relief and squeezed his mom’s hand.  They didn’t have to avoid Trader Joe’s anymore… because the boy had drawn near to the man… and had sought to repair the awkwardness of the relationship.  He had learned… and it was time to keep moving forward.  He had been ushered into deeper peace.

Lack of violence is not true peace.  Christ, Himself, by His Holy Spirit, is present with us… He is our peace.

The Spirit of Christ ushers us into deep peace with one another. 

Will we respond?

Ushered into Deep Peace, Part 2

Reconciling dialogue is not neat and tidy.  It’s not quick and easy.  It’s not usually comfortable.  It IS very humbling.  It’s often complicated.  But God has given us a process in Matthew 18… an invitation to enter into the reconciling work of Christ. 

It may take time for reconciliation to be complete. Sometimes, it takes a long time for God to shift our hearts and move us into places where we can really embrace peace with one another.  But, all along the journey of reconciliation, we hold the posture of seeking peace… the posture of humility depending on the Holy Spirit and trusting the presence of Christ whenever 2 or 3 gather to seek His peace.

Christ in you is too precious to Christ in me to let this go or to do this carelessly… We cannot ignore this call to reconciliation or back away from this peace because it’s too much work… or too uncomfortable. Christ trusts us with this ministry of peace.

Reconciliation isn't some extra burden or some sort of obligation.  It’s like seeing shin pads and cleats as burdensome to playing soccer.  By signing up to play soccer, we sign up to be what soccer players are… playing soccer without cleats and shin pads is not only not as effective, it’s downright dangerous. 

Playing at being a Christian without committing to living reconciled lives with one another is not effective… we are not effective ministers / ambassadors of reconciliation – AND, it’s downright dangerous!  Playing without reconciliation leaves us wide open for the injury of isolation, the bruising of resentment, the cuts of hostility, and the inflammation of the devil himself.

If we saw an athlete attempting to play in the world cup without cleats or shin guards, we might instantly laugh and write him / her off as delusional… if we claim to be followers of Christ but refuse to live reconciled lives with one another, we are laughable… and the peace of Christ is seen as a pipe dream of a delusional people.

The ministry of peace / reconciliation has been entrusted to us… we can’t just speak a ministry of peace… we ARE a people of peace.  When our peace with one another is blocked, our invitations to others to enter the peace of Christ are laughable…  because the world sees us as a delusional people who are playing soccer without cleats.  Our words have no traction. The way the world knows the peace of Christ is through the peace of His people. 

God ushers us into lives of deep peace with one another.

Ushered into Deep Peace, Part 1

Some recent thoughts on reconciliation and peace drawn from Matt. 18, 2 Corinthians 5:14-21, Ephesians 2:13-20... I'm posting this in 3 parts.  

But first, a story:

A boy and his mom were shopping at Trader Joe’s.  The mom sent her son to go get some shredded cheese while she picked up some chicken.  She stood there, trying to discern if there’s any real difference between organic and all-natural chicken… or at least any difference big enough to warrant the extra 1.70 per pound… when, out of the corner of her eye, she notices that her son and a TJ employee are looking at her and her son is pointing… and her son has that look on his face… the one that says, “please don’t be mad.”  And the TJ employee has that look on his face… the one that says, “what kind of mother are you?”

Even though the mom feels like she’d like to turn around and see who they might be pointing at, she knows she has to be the adult, and so she goes over to see what the problem is.  Turns out the son was experimenting… making the chore of getting cheese a little more interesting than it needed to be… and ended up doing some very minor product damage in the process.  The TJ employee told the mom he just wanted to “make sure you knew what was going on.”  The son immediately starts saying, “I’m so sorry, Mom… I’m so sorry.  I don’t know what I was thinking…”  Of course he’s sorry… he got caught.  Mom encourages the boy to apologize to the TJ man, which he does.  Mom offers to buy the damaged product, the TJ man says that’s not necessary… they’re so nice at Trader Joe’s!

The boy wants to flee from the scene of his crime. As they buy their groceries, the boy scans the store continuously… not wanting to see the evil man in the Hawaiian shirt again.  The Mom is thinking about how to help this boy learn a valuable lesson here through natural consequences… she says she needs to think about a consequence and he’ll need to wait until she’s prepared to let him know what that will be.

As soon as they get out of the store and into the car, the boy falls apart.  Now he’s not just sorry about getting in trouble… he’s actually sorry about what he did.  He has realized he made a mistake.  He knows he was wrong.  And he feels exposed.  He is hiding his face… trying not to cry… and he says, “I feel so ashamed.  Can we just never shop at Trader Joe’s ever again?”

He has done something wrong.  He felt terrible.  He never wanted to see the man who had drawn attention to his mistake ever again.  He was humiliated, ashamed.  He was standing naked in the garden… desperately looking for an animal skin to cover his shame.

And we’ve all been there.  Feeling naked… wanting to hide… because we did something wrong or hurtful and someone pointed it out to us… or, because we’ve been hurt and we want to build walls to protect ourselves in the future.

It’s easy to become estranged… from family members, from coworkers, from neighbors, from friends.  And it’s easy to become estranged from one another in the body of Christ.  It’s easy to start feeling strange about each other.  It’s easy to assume we know what people think of us, how people feel about us… it’s easy to write one another off as people that are too difficult to be around… 

But out of this place of making assumptions about each other… writing one another off… wanting to avoid each other…

God ushers us into lives of deep peace with one another.

God can usher us into this deep peace because it’s the peace that He, through Christ, has initiated.  Through Christ, God has reconciled Himself to us.  We estranged ourselves.  We broke all of our promises.  We spit in God’s face… but God didn’t avoid us.  All through scripture, we see that God never stopped moving toward His people.  Never avoided.  Never stopped initiating reconciling dialogue.  And in Christ’s death and resurrection, we see the completion of the reconciliation He began when He mercifully provided animals skins to cover the nakedness that imprisons us in shame and avoidance.

Through Christ, we are newly created.  Through Christ, we are new creation.  We, who were once strangers and aliens… who were once far off, have been brought near.  We are reconciled to God, through Christ.

Because we are newly created, we can see our brothers and sisters as new creation.  Christ in me sees Christ in you and wants our relationship to be ruled by Christ’s peace, love, authority, mercy - new creation.  Christ in me does not shrink away or hide from Christ in you… 

Through Christ, God ushers us into lives of deep peace with one another.

Flood of Faith

"Whether we are adults or children, our best memories are usually the sort which, like a tuning fork, strike that resonant chord in our souls.  It's a song we never quite forget and recognize immediately whenever we catch its echo.  We recognize it because it is so full of heartbreaking beauty.  Like deep calling to deep, it is stamped with His imprint; and since we bear His image, the memory is sealed in that deepest, most profound part of us.  Such moments cast soundings and plumb the real depths of who we are."  - Joni Eareckson Tada

Today, I had one of those moments.  The echo penetrated my heart, speaking of Faith.

It's been difficult to perceive the presence of God lately.  I've felt parched and thirsty for His presence... but this little word soaked me today.  Faith.  Through the last months, through the dryness, through the darkness, I have been saturated with a great gift.  Faith.

It wasn't by tenacity that I have hung on.  It wasn't by fierce determination that I've persevered.  It wasn't by the strength of my will that I've refused to give up on God.  Faith.  The gift of God, for the daughter of God.  A priceless treasure pressed firmly into my open and pleading hand, I haven't even realized that five letters have been sustaining me without my permission.

This little word hints at such immense grace... His presence with me expressed generously in one rich syllable... so often carelessly spoken as a command ("you've just got to have faith"), today received as a saturating flood.  This is the gift: the Spirit of Christ in me believes in Christ at work in the world.  Faith.

Zucchini Hidden in the Hamburger

My secret is out... everyone at Life on the Vine now knows.  When I cook hamburger for my family, I blend up onions, garlic, and zucchini and I hide it in the ground beef.  My kids think they're just eating ordinary hamburger... but they're actually eating life-giving veggies.

We started a sermon series at Life on the Vine about seven practices of Christ's presence (find it here).  And in the same way that I hide veggies in beef, as we engage in these practices, our ordinary human activity is actually loaded with divine presence - the life-giving nourishment of Christ Himself.

Our extended families think they are inviting ordinary hamburger over... but we know we're bringing onions and garlic along with us.  Our coworkers think they're eating lunch with ground beef, but we know we're packing zucchini.

And so there is this mysterious and mind-blowing partnership between the presence of Christ and our human activity.  Without His presence, our activity is merely an obligatory checklist.  Without our activity, His presence remains hidden and intangible to a world that is waiting to see Christ incarnate in His people.

It's about relationship.  Christ in us... us in Christ.  His presence is a frame through which to view our practice... and our practice is a frame through which the world can see His presence.

Where I've been...

I know... it's been a long while since I've blogged.  I guess I decided to take the summer off... I just didn't realize it until the summer had gone by without any motivation to post anything.

This summer, there was a lot of fumbling in the curtain... finding it difficult to perceive the presence of Christ in any sort of tangible way.  In the Immanuel prayer process, I've been "stuck" all summer in a childhood place... locked out of a dark room and Jesus is keeping the key from me.  Perhaps I'm not ready for what's behind that door.  In any case, the forward motion and the deep healing I had been experiencing have stalled out.  And I became suddenly aware of how much I had grown to depend on that "experience" of His presence in the past two years.  So much so, that when I lost that way of connecting, I felt as if Christ was no longer with me.

Although I believe Christ means for us to know His presence in tangible ways, I also recognize that part of what happened was that I had turned signs of His presence into a subtle form of idolatry.  I recently re-read part of "Dark Night of the Soul" by St. John of the Cross (excerpt found in Devotional Classics).  It became clear to me that, once again, I had 'misused spiritual consolation' and it seemed that God had taken away my consolation in order to purify my soul.

"God perceives the imperfections within us, and because of his love for us, urges us to grow up.  His love is not content to leave us in our weakness, and for this reason he takes us into a dark night.  He weans us from all of the pleasures by giving us dry times and inward darkness.  In doing so he is able to take away all these vices and create virtues within us.  Through the dark night pride becomes humility, greed become simplicity, wrath becomes contentment, luxury becomes peace, gluttony becomes moderation, envy becomes joy, and sloth becomes strength.  No soul will ever grow deep in the spiritual life unless God works passively in that soul by means of the dark night."

In the midst of this 'dark night,' I was given the task of proclaiming the presence of Christ with us, as He promised in Matt. 28:20.  And here, I found an obvious sign of Christ's presence with me... In His wisdom and tenderness, He forced me to wrestle with what He meant by "I will be with you always" even while I was in the midst of wondering where He had gone right now.

His presence still isn't tangible like it was before this summer... but perceptions will never measure the reality of His presence... instead, the reality of His presence shapes perception.  (I think I must have read that somewhere... but I can't remember where).

Yogurtland Church?

One of my new favorite places on the planet is the local Yogurtland.  If you haven't yet visited a Yogurtland, you are missing out on a dessert that borders on health food... and for those of us who don't have my husband's metabolism, this is a good good thing.

As Geoff and I were just there last night, we mused briefly about Yogurtland as a bad metaphor for church.  The missional church has come a long way from the consumer model... but I wonder if there aren't still some similarities between the way that we participate in our missional communities and the way we engage a Yogurtland.  

Here's what I mean...
At Yogurtland, you serve yourself.  You clean your own hands.  You grab your own bowl.  No attendant is forcing you to make up your mind by asking, "are you ready to order?"  Take as long as you need to be ready.  No coersion.  Your indecision inconveniences no one.  If you're not ready to partake and engage, others simply go around you.

On any given day, there are a dozen flavors to choose from.  If you're not sure if you'll like a flavor, you can pick up a little paper cup and sample something to see if it dances on your tastebuds like you thought it might.  You can choose from flavors like cheesecake, huddles / discipleship groups, blue lychee bliss, missional order / house gathering, chocolate twilight, eucharist / worship, apricot tart, or post worship barbeque.

Once you've decided on your flavors, you choose your own portions.  You take as much or as little as you think you might be capable of digesting.  You can choose multiple flavors, or stick with just one thing.  Some days, that might be a bit of everything, filling the bowl to overflowing... other days, your appetite might be small and you can only take in a couple ounces.

After you've chosen your yogurt, you walk by the toppings.  There, you'll find extras like blackberries, scripture memorization challenges, weird fruit flavored gelatinous balls, and short-term missions trips.  Again, take only what looks appealing and mix and match as much as you like.

Finally, you're ready to weigh your creation.  You pay only for what you take.  During this whole process, you've been carefully selecting only what you've been willing to pay for, realizing that every delicious bite has a price.

When you come to the register, you're finally aware of the presence of a few bi-vocational pastors scurrying about the store... usually 3 or 4.  One has been monitoring the toppings, making sure that everything is fresh and inviting.  Another has been out wiping tables, disposing of trash left behind, and interacting with the customers if necessary.  You know there is at least one person in the back, attending to the yogurt machines, but you're not really sure who it is because they remain hidden during your visit.  Lastly, someone tells you how much you owe and receives your contribution to keep the store running in exchange for what you've received.

After you've enjoyed the taste explosion, delivered by a quality pink or green spoon, and been dazzled by the clever touch of strawberries bobbing in the chilled water dispenser, you're ready to go and tell all of your friends about the magic of Yogurtland... where you rule.

My hope is that more of us might view the gathering of God's people as a stone soup event.  Everyone brings something, either out of their bounty or out of their lack.  There's not a defined recipe... but everyone contributes something of value.  A wilted carrot, a handful of herbs, a pound of parsnips, some kale or chard... none of it is incredibly appealing all by itself.  But when everyone is willing to participate in the mystery, the ingredients combine to produce a uniquely flavorful stew that blesses and nourishes all those who partake.  A reflection of an entire community, centered around a stone.

What do you think?  Do people view your missional community as a Yogurtland?  Or as Stone Soup?  Or as something else entirely?  Are we still believing the individuals rule?  Or are we submitting to the mystery of the stone that unites the pieces?

slinking slumps

A little less than a week ago, I found myself in a truly discouraging place... feeling hypocritical about writing such a glowing blog post, celebrating God's work one day, and then the very next day was a discouraging day and I was questioning if He was at work at all.

Once again, the deep joy was followed by a pronounced drop in hope... a slump.  (while looking for a picture to put in this post, I was surprised to find that a 'slump' is actually a geological phenomenon tru to how it feels... like I was undercut and a piece of me broke off and slid down the hill.)

This cycle, although not unfamiliar, always catches me off guard, and it takes me some time to recognize the spiritual battle that it is.  To expect it would feel pessimistic... to have all celebrations of His work be tinged with the expectation of impending discouragement seems decidedly unfaithful... and yet, the cycle has proven to be real and I never seem to be prepared for it.

And so, this past Sunday, I was challenged to proclaim the gospel out of a slump.  I certainly would not have chosen to, if I were not scheduled to preach.  If I was not forced to stand up and offer a picture of the reality of the kingdom among us, I would have been content to continue to wrestle and struggle in the slump... 

But God is the One who calls... and, in His attentiveness and grace, He always calls me at just the right time.  At just the right time, He called me to stand in the middle of discouragement and exhaustion and, out of that place, to declare His Name and His faithfulness.  

"The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, yet by no means clearing the guilty, but visiting the iniquity of the parents upon the children and the children's children, to the third and fourth generation."  (Ex. 34: 6b-7)

And the slump slunk away... defeated.  And isn't this the way faith works?  We are challenged to proclaim His character, even when we don't feel like it... even when it doesn't feel as real as it sometimes does... even when we feel hollow and empty... but in the act of proclaiming the reality of who He is, no matter how convinced we are in the moment, He works miracles - in us, and through us.

"I will perform marvels, such as have not been performed in all the earth or in any nation; and all the people among whom you live shall see the work of the Lord; for it is an awesome thing that I will do with you."  (Ex. 34:10b)

And so I ask you... have you seen this cycle in your own lives?  When you declare His faithfulness, even when you're not feeling it, does the slump begin to slink?  

(A friend who is immersed in the study of Semitic languages shared with me afterward that this talk of generations is yet another sign of God's mercy and grace.  He explained that 'thousandth generation' is interpreted by some to mean 25,000 years (a generation is 2500 years, times 1000 of them).  This is the length of time that God keeps His steadfast love... of which, we have not come close to exhausting yet.  The third & fourth generation is only a fraction of time when considered in comparison)  

New life is coming!

I got some good feedback for what to write on next... and the common thread was wanting to hear about how God and His kingdom are at work in my life.  So I'm writing this quickly... just wanting to get something out here before I get too busy to blog again...

At our Tenebrae service on Good Friday, I prayed an old prayer.  One that I've prayed thousands of times in the last several years.  I prayed out of habit... "Lord, I thirst for freedom from these messages of shame and condemnation that play over and over in my mind."  At the end of the service, after all the candles had been extinguished, we were left with the question, "what is to become of the light of the world?"  And we left the sanctuary, saying, "we wait, we hope, we wait."

After the service, I sat on my front porch.  After a few moments of reflecting, I thought about that prayer I had prayed... and how I've been praying it for so long.  And then I noticed the moon was full.  In that full moon, I saw hope.  The light of the world had not left us in darkness.  He had left a light on... The sun to shine by day and the moon to shine by night.  As I stood to look up at the moon, the leaves on the tree in the front yard hung perfectly in front of the moon, creating the likeness of a gentle face.  My breath hung in my throat... and I recognized that God was breaking into my world and re-setting my reality to His.

I realized that the shame and condemnation are rarely there anymore.  I no longer hear the harsh voices of my parents around every corner.  I no longer make up all the possible things someone could mean by the words that they say.  I no longer dismiss my voice before it even comes out of my mouth.  Because Immanuel has been meeting with me in prayer.  He has been re-imagining my imagination.  He has been reshaping my memories.  He has been transforming my understanding of who I am and who He is.  He has been showing me how tender He is... how careful... how gentle... how merciful... how full of grace.  He has been triumphing over the horse and rider and He has been planting me on His holy mountain.  He has been making His presence real to me.  He has proven Himself to be Immanuel... God with me.

But I have always been a 'half-empty' kind of girl... and it's difficult for me to take my eyes away from what He hasn't yet done for long enough to truly celebrate what He HAS done.  As long as we choose to dwell on what has not yet been accomplished, it’s hard to keep hope… difficult to keep from slipping into despair.  When we dwell on what’s still wrong, the enemy pursues…

But Immanuel has been reminding me to celebrate.  Choosing to gather stones of remembrance.  To speak aloud what He has done and is doing.  And as I choose to celebrate, I find myself beginning to see the fullness more than the emptiness.

The fruit is blossoming... it's beginning to emerge in whites and pinks, paper thin petals preceding any seeds or flesh.  In the blossoms, there is hope for continued healing.  (and a few months ago, I would have deleted this whole paragraph along with this picture for fear of it being too 'feminine' and therefore easily dismissed.)

Like a gathering spring storm, He is condensing my identity into clouds... collecting sparks of courage inside the gray... and pooling the baptismal waters into thick heavy drops... new life is coming...

It's already sprinkling.

Where do you feel it in your life?

Breaking the Silence

It's been over a month since my last post... and I've been trying to figure out what to do to break the silence.  This happens to me on facebook and google + as well.  As long as I'm updating regularly, I don't get paranoid about what I write... but when there's been a span of silence, I actually have thoughts like... "is this worth breaking the silence?"  Ridiculous... I know.

But it's happened here, on my blog.  I was going steadily for quite some time... and now, silence for almost 2 months.  I need help breaking the silence.  I've had some ideas... but don't know which one to settle into.  So... what do you, as readers want to see here?  (If there ARE any readers).

- more about Immanuel prayer and my experiences of the Lord's healing?
- more about being a woman in leadership?
- more about how God speaks to me in sermon prep?
- more about homeschooling / being a Mom?
- something entirely different - any thoughts? questions?

I'd appreciate your help in knowing what would be of interest to those who visit here...

Immanuel - not just a concept

Over the last few years, as my community has called me into more leadership and entrusted me with more responsibility, I have begun to see that I am often hindered by a deep mistrust of myself.  It has caused me to doubt the work of God in me because I’m so afraid I’m going to get in the way, mess it up… or, I have ended up feeling like I have to try to live up to the expectations that other people have for me.  I have thought to myself, “If they only knew how incompetent I am, they would run me off.”

I have struggled to embrace the gifting of God in me.

I have known that, in order for the Holy Spirit’s ministry to be released in me, I would need to start unpacking where this deep insecurity was coming from…

I had some suspicions:  early loss of my father, upheaval as a kid, a second father who often yelled at me… strong Calvinist up-bringing…

I began exploring co-dependency and what I found was hugely discouraging.  But when I started seeing these habits in almost everyone I knew, I also started to wonder if the whole world was co-dependent.  It felt so thick, so deep, so impossibly dark.

A friend in our community had been telling me about Immanuelhealing prayer.  Finally, I asked her to pray with me… I was skeptical about whether or not He would show up.  My Calvinist upbringing taught me to believe in and talk about the Heavenly Father… to believe and understand that God works in and through His people as a collective… but there was never any expectation that He would encounter individuals… and very little talk of Jesus, beyond His work at Calvary.

But God surprised me… I was shocked at how personal His interaction was. 

And even though I had a sense of Him as Father in that experience, I suddenly wondered if I might be able to meet Jesus… the Jesus that other people talked about knowing.

And so I began to pursue learning more about the Immanuel approach.  I read OutsmartingYourself, by Dr. Karl Lehman.  Then I went and received some training from Alive and Well and had the opportunity to pray with others in a practice group setting.  Some women in my community asked me to pray with them.  The Lord showed up and did dramatic work in their prayers.  And I began to find Jesus… playful, tender, strong, and powerful.  Immanuel is becoming real to me… not just a concept.  He is really with me… with us all. 

It’s in this Immanuel approach to living that I am finding that Jesus really means it when He promises that when two or three are gathered in His Name, He is there. 

It’s in this Immanuel approach that I’m discovering that kids have the right idea when they always answer every question in a church setting with “Jesus?”  Jesus really is the answer.  Encountering our risen Lord and learning to fellowship with Him, learning to hear from Him and receive from Him really is the answer to all of our brokenness.

In her book, Immanuel: A Practicum (if you follow the link, click on the book title in the left sidebar), Patricia Velotta writes: "When we are overwhelmed, both in our current lives and in unresolved places from our past, Jesus takes us to the source of our trouble and opens our eyes to see that he has always been with us and is with us now.  He always overcomes the world by bringing us into truth and drawing us to himself.  He always is the unexpected solution."

It’s in the understanding and presence of Jesus that I am finding the deepest healing.  If Immanuel really is with us, then He understands what actually happens in all of my life… and in His knowing, He changes my perceptions of my past – which increases peace in my present and compels me to hope for the future.

During one prayer time, I was wrestling with this deep mistrust of myself.  I asked the Lord what He wanted me to know about this and He brought forward a memory of when I was a little girl.  I had done something in a moment of desperation and I had been severely scolded for my poor choice.  “How could you be so stupid?  What were you thinking?”  Disgust hung thick in the air…

But when I went there with Jesus, He said something different to me.  In the middle of that shame and humiliation, He was glad to be with me.  And He told me how clever my solution had been.  He was impressed by my quick thinking.  He understood what I had been trying to do.  I didn’t ‘see’ Him in this memory, but I knew He was with me… and I had the sense that if I could see Him, He would be chuckling… delighted with me.

And as I experienced His delight, I was overcome with compassion for the people who were doing the yelling.  I was surprised as I found the words, “Lord, forgive them… they have no idea.”  I have resented the people from this memory… I have been angry about how insensitively this story has been shared throughout my lifetime… but, suddenly, I was able to forgive them… because Immanuel had given me His perspective.

If there hadn’t been a witness, I don’t think I would be able to believe it happened.  But that’s the beauty of the Immanuel approach… talking with Immanuel in the presence of a witness… a brother or sister in Christ who can stand with me and say, “yes, that really happened.  I was there.” 

The trickle-down effect of this prayer experience continues to fill me with wonder.  And there have been others that have been equally surprising and powerful.  I stand amazed at the attentiveness, the creativity, the tenderness, the strength, and the victory of Immanuel.

Jesus is willing to heal us… to gives us more of Himself.  He is ready and able to overcome the pain of our past.  He has gone to such great lengths to be with us.  So the only question we need to ask ourselves is… are we willing to meet Him?

What might happen if more of us (even all of us) became securely attached to Jesus?  What might the Church look like if we were able to practice His presence and receive His tenderness and mercy… deepen our connection / companionship with Christ?  How might all of our human relationships be transformed if they were built on this unshakable foundation?  What if we could be truly present with others because of Jesus’ presence with us?  Christ in us, the hope of glory.  How would his mission go forth if we truly knew his presence with us?