Improved Purple Vision

Currently I'm studying Psalm 119 with several ladies from my church. We're going through the psalm verse by verse with an emphasis each day on one or two words. I'm sure it was a challenge for the writer of the study to pick out just one or two words for each day! I look at the group of 8 verses that we're to study each week and circle the words that really stand out to me and sometimes our lists match! This week, I did pick one of the same words our writer chose. It was the first word of verse 18: "Open" as in "Open my eyes". Open in this verse is the Hebrew word, "Galah" (Strong's #1540) meaning,"To uncover or remove". It's not like simply parting my eye lids; it's the unveiling of something that has been covering my eyes- much like the removal of a cataract.

According to the National Eye Institute of the National Institutes of Health (NIE/NIH), a cataract is, "a clouding of the lens in the eye that affects vision." But the next few words of the definition really hit me: "Most cataracts are related to aging". I guess we all struggle with aging, some (my husband) more than others! But it seemed interesting to me to ponder this association of clouded vision with aging. You'd think that the older we get, the clearer our vision of God and his word and love would be but, you know, I believe that our spiritual eyes are just as at risk for developing cataracts as we age as our physical eyes.

According to the NIE/NIH, cataracts related to aging are caused by the proteins that make up our lenses clumping together. When the proteins clump together, they reduce the amount of light that hits the retina causing vision to become blurry. They can also cause the lens to darken and turn a brownish tint. This brownish coloring of the lens can hinder our ability to differntiate color - especially purples and blues. Things we do to ourselves that are hard on our eyes, like smoking, or illnesses, like diabetes or simply the stresses of daily life- every day wear and tear can cause clumping of those proteins. And there are other causes of cataracts that don't have anything to do with aging. Things like trauma, or things that were supposed to help us like surgery or medications. We can be born with cataracts or we can acquire them from radiation therapy for treatment of cancer.

Maybe it's just me but it seems like all of those things can cause spiritual cataracts just as easily. Maybe an illness or relentless struggle can cause us to see God as brutal or uncaring. Maybe a traumatic past can cause a skewed vision of God's word as meaningless or empty. Perhaps "helpful" words from fellow Christians or even respected pastors can cause deep pain that cloud our vision of the church as untrustworthy or even vicious. Situations we are born into, or marry into, or move into can harden our hearts and prevent us from seeing God clearly. I believe it would require a very introspective and humble spirit for a person to have the where-with-all to ask God to remove these kinds of cataracts. I believe we hold onto them with all our strength if we're concious of their presence at all. But the psalmist does, indeed, ask.
I'm getting old. It's true. And along with getting old, I believe I'm at fairly high risk for developing cataracts. Although I may have some of the cataracts posed above, I believe my cataracts are of the simple aging variety. They're the daily wear and tear of a stress filled life that doesn't have time to spend reflecting on the word of God. That daily grind has clumped all the proteins of my lens til I view God through a hazy mist. The darkened tint prevents me from seeing the glory and majesty of a God who desires so deeply for me to know Him. The Light simply isn't getting through. He's something important, I can tell that. But honestly, He comes off a utilitarian shade of khaki instead of the vibrant purples of royalty.

The good news is that cataracts can be removed. Both of my parents have had cataract surgery and it's been quite successful. Ninety per cent of people who have cataract surgery have improved vision afterward (National Eye Institute, "Facts About Cataracts"). The thing is, you have to ask for the surgery, just as the psalmist does in 119:18. It seems to me that if I ask for my cataracts to be removed, God would be fairly pleased to flufill that request. Just as I'm sure He was pleased when the psalmist asked the same. And I fully expect to start seeing much more purple than khaki!

"Open my eyes so I can see what you show me of your miracle wonders"

- The Message

Changes and Chances

Today I stumbled upon a blog of a friend's. She journals almost every day of her life with her now one year old little girl. It made me realize that it's been a really, really long time since I blogged. I miss it. I miss the time I used to have to sit and ponder life and process it all for reflection. Something happens in your 40's and life picks up speed. Doesn't seem possible that things could be faster in your 40's than in your 30's but it's true. Right now there seems to be a flurry of wings scattering dust and feathers and somehow, I believe that when the wings stop beating and the clouds settle there will just be Rod and me left in the nest.
Yesterday, our eldest son turned 19. He's a freshman and already 1/2 moved out of the house. For the first time in 19 years, I wasn't responsible for furnishing his birthday cake... a friend of his took that honor.
Monday, our middle son turns 17. He's spending more and more time with friends and less and less time at home. Tonight he made dinner with friends- "Amazing Pasta". I had left over spaghetti. Not amazing.
Today, Molly auditioned for residential high school in Greenville. Residential equals no longer living at home.
While Molly auditioned, I worked on a chapter of a book for Bible study. The author was discussing emotions and cautioning us to not let ourselves be ruled by our unruly emotions. But somehow, that's not what I took home from the chapter. She wrote about women who blame their unpredictable behavior on hormonal surges like those surrounding peri-menopause and such. And in that section, she quoted Francis de Sales:

Do not look forward to the changes and chances of this life in fear: rather look to them with full hope that, as they arise, God, whose you are, will deliver you out of them. He has kept you hither-to,-do you but hold fast to his dear hand, and he will lead you safely through all things: and, when you cannot stand, he will bear you in his arms... The same everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow, and every day. Either he will shield you from suffering, or he will give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace then, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.

You know, I don't think I've ever looked forward to the changes and chances of this life in fear. Maybe most women do. It seems that so many books, magazine articles and even sermons seem to assume that we women are terrified of the "changes and chances of this life". They warn us of how terrible it will be when our babies leave for kindergarten and how awful it will be when they shun us as tweenagers. How they'll outright hate us when they're true teens and how devastated and lost we'll be then the nest is "EMPTY". Even St. Francis of de Sales warns us that we may need "delivered out" of our "changes and chances". But what if you don't? What if "changes and chances" are actually synonymous? Why on earth would you want to be delivered from chances? Maybe society (and God forbid- even modern day Christianity) tells us we should be fearful of all that but to me, it just doesn't make sense. Yes, I've devoted 20 years so far to growing up kids. And maybe all that's getting ready to change. But honestly, I'm looking forward to the chances the next 20 years brings.
Hopefully it's more time to do things like Rod and I did today... and maybe even more time to blog!

Drowning and God's Brilliance

One of the things I love about our new church is that every Sunday, they publish in the bulletin, the scripture lessons for the next week. That way I can read them each day and guess what the pastor might preach on- usually I'm wrong! But that just goes to show you that the word is alive and speaks to each of us differently.

This week, I'm reading Psalm 29, Jonah 2:1-9, Romans 9:1-5 and Matthew 14: 22-33. There's a lot about water this week. Jonah's praying from the depths of the ocean, Jesus is walking on the storm tossed sea, and Psalm 29 mentions floods and thunder. I haven't quite figured out how Paul's burden for the Israelites ties in to all this water (Romans 9). But maybe I'm just overly sensitive to the sensation of drowning lately!

One verse particularly caught my attention this morning; Psalm 29:3

God thunders across the waters,
Brilliant, his voice and his face, streaming brightness—
God, across the flood waters. (The Message)

The whole rest of the psalm speaks of God's thunder and power. But what caught my attention here was the reference to "flood waters". Sure, there's power in flood waters but they bring such devastation, hopelessness, destruction and chaos. And God's face, his countenance, streams brilliantly across this devastating chaos- this depressing, vast hopelessness.

I guess I found it encouraging to know that God could overpower the chaos in my life and shine on it, turning it into a thing of his beauty. Somehow that's even more amazing than seeing him thunder across deserts or set oaks to dancing.

So I'm praying for his beauty to shine across the flood waters of my life and waiting for the strength and peace that he promises.

What's Your Soundtrack?

Last night as I was driving home from Wally-world with groceries (at ten o'clock at night), I was listening to the public radio program, "Echoes". The music playing was like background music. There really wasn't any meat to it and it seemed quite trivial. The pathetic thing is that as I was listening to it I thought, "if my life had a soundtrack, I believe this would be it." It was a gay little ditty, light and soothing. It would have made nice "hold" music.

I recently picked up a daily devotional by Henry T. Blackaby and Richard Blackaby based on the book Experiencing God. What I read this morning was about "vision". They discussed how vision drives the way we live. I've seen it; I know you've seen it. Vision statements everywhere, work, church, self directed goals. When we can visualize what we'd like to look like, we can set a course for achieving that goal.

The NIV states it this way: "Where there is no revelation, the people cast off restraint; but blessed is he who keeps the law".

And the Message says it like this: "If people can't see what God is doing, they stumble all over themselves; But when they attend to what he reveals, they are most blessed."

I know it best in the KJV: "Where there is no vision, the people perish, but he that keepeth the law, happy is he."

As I pondered this, I was also reading in Jeremiah 12. And God says to Jeremiah (who is complaining about why the bad guys always seem to win and he always gets in trouble when he does something bad), that if he's whipped by running with men, how on earth can he expect to run with horses? In other words, if you can't play with the big dogs, stay on the porch.

Life is tough. I have friends going through really awful, painful and scary things right now. I continue on in my life, getting caught up in the craziness of it all and it brings me down. What it may be is that perhaps we have all lost the vision of exactly who our God is. Because without that vision, we perish. It says so right there in the Bible. Without a clear vision of what God is doing and who He is, we see the chaos, the defeat, the bad guys winning and we feel hopeless. When is the last time I stopped and really tried to grasp who He is and what He's up to? And if I could only do that, wouldn't my outlook change? Wouldn't I be more likely to be able to run with the horses? Wouldn't the soundtrack be different?

When I went running today, I turned on my beastly red i-Pod (as my kids refer to it) to a little known group of artists called apt.core. They're not my usual fare for running, in fact, I believe this is the first time I've listened to this particular album. The first song was a very powerful piece called, "No Such Thing as Time". The only words are, "I AM the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end, the one who is, who was, and is to come. Almighty." The next piece simply quotes the first four verses of Psalm 19:

1 The heavens proclaim the glory of God. The skies display his craftsmanship. 2 Day after day they continue to speak; night after night they make him known. 3 They speak without a sound or word; their voice is never heard.^[a] 4 Yet their message has gone throughout the earth, and their words to all the world.

God has made a home in the heavens for the sun.

Psalm 19:1-4 New Living Translation

I think it's time for a new soundtrack.

Questions, Answers, and Obedience

I've been pondering the passage in I Kings 19 this week where God passes by Elijah with the still, small voice and several things have caught my attention. First was the repetition of God's question to Elijah. Before He revealed Himself in the still, small voice, He asked Elijah a simple question: "What are you doing here?" The question in and of itself seemed a little strange to me because surely God knew why Elijah was hiding/sleeping in a cave on Mount Horeb. God Himself had sent an angel to prepare food for Elijah to strengthen him for the journey to Mt. Horeb. Surely God had watched as Elijah ran for his life from Jezebel's wrath. But God is not unknown for asking rhetorical questions! The odd thing to me was that after he asked the question, and Elijah answered, He revealed Himself in the still, small voice and then, He asked the same question again. Was He expecting a different answer this time? Because He didn't get one. Elijah's answer is still the same, "I've been working my heart out for the God-of-the-Angel-Armies. The people of Israel have abandoned your covenant, destroyed the places of worship, and murdered your prophets. I'm the only one left, and now they're trying to kill me." Elijah was in dire straits and nothing was going to change that- not even God passing by!

Perhaps that's why the second oddity that caught my eye happened. I found it very strange that after Elijah first answered God's question, he was commanded to go out and stand on the mountain but he didn't do it. The Bible says, "Then he was told, 'Go, stand on the mountain at attention before God. God will pass by.'" What happens next in the passage is the famous passing of the strong wind, the hurricane, the earthquake, the fire, none of which contained God. But when (and not until) Elijah hears the small, still voice, he gets up, covers his face, and goes to the mouth of the cave. Now, after God's demonstration, Elijah is obedient to go stand on the mountain before God. And the conversation starts all over again with, "Elijah, what are you doing here?"

Elijah was desperate and depressed. He had just traveled 40 days through a desert to hide in a cave. He was running to save his own skin from an evil queen who wanted him dead. He told God he'd had enough. He wanted to die. He knew why he was hiding in that cave. It couldn't be more clear. Yet he was disobedient to God's command to stand on the mountain. Perhaps life was too difficult to be obedient. Perhaps he'd given up hope that even the passing by of God Himself could help him at this point. That's a pretty desperate place to be, especially for one who had seen God do so many wonderful things. Yet God was merciful. If I wanted to teach my child a lesson and asked that they sit up and pay attention and they didn't do it, I'd be tempted to huff out of the room to the tune of, "Well if you won't even pay attention, I'm not going to help!" (Wait, I think I have done that!) But God doesn't do that; He carries on with His lesson and at the end, with Elijah's full attention, He begins the conversation again. But this time, even though Elijah's circumstances haven't changed, even though his answer is the same, God has his undivided attention and now, finally, he is able to be obedient.

It may have been that the thought of God passing by was too terrifying. Maybe Elijah thought he wouldn't survive such a demonstration and that's why he stayed hidden in the cave. Yet the still, small voice, the whisper of God, was undeniable. When he heard it, he couldn't resist. He had to obey.

I guess the point here is that it took that moment of quietness, that hearing of the still, small voice, to give Elijah the strength to pull himself out of despair, to be obedient. Had he only experienced the hurricane, the earthquake, the fire, he would have never had the strength to move past his despair. It made me wonder what we look for in time alone with God. When we leave a church service full of wind and wonders, full of smoke and fire, full of emotional quaking, have we been prepared to be obedient? When we sit in prayer and only focus on the dire straits we're in, begging for a way out, listing our needs, are we any more prepared to be pulled out of our pits? Perhaps after hearing the still small voice, we can hear the reflective question God asks. He doesn't ask, "Elijah, WHY are you here" (which is what Elijah answered). He asked, "Elijah, what are you DOING here?"

It makes me wonder; what are we doing here?

Chicken or Eagle?

I was recently challenged by someone who said I should be grateful for what I had. It wasn't that I was grumbling about what I had. I was simply discontent with the circumstances surrounding what I had. To me, the challenge was silly. A spout-off from someone who didn't know what they were talking about. Someone who didn't have all the facts. But since then, I've pondered the challenge and wondered if perhaps, there isn't something there.

This morning I was reading a "devotional" by Francis de Sales on "devotion" and after taking a brief inventory, I found a dearth of devotion. Dictionary.com lists the synonyms for devotion as love, ardor, and zeal. St. Francis de Sales explains that devotion is "true love of God", that devotion is "simply that spiritual agility by which charity works in us or by aid of which we work quickly and lovingly." Now don't get me wrong, I love God. But I'm not quite sure how agile I am in charitable works. To make it easier to understand, he compares people to birds: ostriches (sinners who never fly), chickens, (people struggling to do good but without true devotion) and eagles (devoted Christians who soar). So, in other words, devotion is loving God so completely that it transforms my life from one who struggles to do good works and perhaps grumbles about it to one who soars through life on wings of love, face towards God, good works simply falling in my trail.

The author says that the world sees the devout as "having discontented, gloomy, sullen faces and claims that devotion brings on depression and unbearable moods." And although I at first disagreed with him, the more I thought about my own devotion, I realized many would say (and have said) that about my example! In his view, I'm a chicken! And if the world only ever knows "birds" from the testimony of a chicken, they'd have a pretty skewed view of a bird! I guess if the world sees the devout as chickens, I'm actually part of the problem!

Without thought, I would tell you I'm a devoted follower of Christ. Yet something is wrong if unbelievers look at my life and see a chicken. They say, "Look at the chicken!" and I say, "That's not a chicken! That's an eagle!" Wow... who looks stupid then?

I confess that I have been undisciplined, wallowing in the dust of the fenced-in chicken yard, my head down, fighting over scraps of worms and bits of dried corn. And with all that dust it's hard to look up and see the eagles and the sky where I belong. I need to get up out of that yard; get above the din and dust- but how?

Jonathan Edwards writes in Religious Affections that

The nature of human beings is to be inactive unless influenced by some affection: love or hatred, desire, hope, fear, etc. These affections are the 'spring of actions', the things that set us moving in our lives, that move us to engage in activities.

These affections stimulate our zeal, or our "tireless, enthusiastic devotion" towards a cause. In other words, without stimulation from affections, we won't have devotion. I need to find my affections and use them as a spring board towards devotion.

I believe that the wear and tear on the soul by life causes our affections to dim. And certainly focusing on our disappointments causes us to lose hope, causes us to fear. It's a tool of Satan to make sure we stay chickens. Without affections to spur us on, we will be "content" to squabble in the hen house. But in the Psalms we are taught over and over again to focus on our blessings, the promises of God fulfilled, the power of God, His protective hand. Every time the psalmist's soul is "down hearted", he remembers God's saving power and finds the affections he needs to spring into devotion.

And on the wings of devotion, he soars.

Psalm 42 (The Message)

A psalm of the sons of Korah

1-3 A white-tailed deer drinks from the creek;
I want to drink God,
deep draughts of God.
I'm thirsty for God-alive.
I wonder, "Will I ever make it—
arrive and drink in God's presence?"
I'm on a diet of tears—
tears for breakfast, tears for supper.
All day long
people knock at my door,
Pestering,
"Where is this God of yours?"

4 These are the things I go over and over,
emptying out the pockets of my life.
I was always at the head of the worshiping crowd,
right out in front,
Leading them all,
eager to arrive and worship,
Shouting praises, singing thanksgiving—
celebrating, all of us, God's feast!

5 Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul?
Why are you crying the blues?
Fix my eyes on God—
soon I'll be praising again.
He puts a smile on my face.
He's my God.

6-8 When my soul is in the dumps, I rehearse
everything I know of you,
From Jordan depths to Hermon heights,
including Mount Mizar.
Chaos calls to chaos,
to the tune of whitewater rapids.
Your breaking surf, your thundering breakers
crash and crush me.
Then God promises to love me all day,
sing songs all through the night!
My life is God's prayer.

9-10 Sometimes I ask God, my rock-solid God,
"Why did you let me down?
Why am I walking around in tears,
harassed by enemies?"
They're out for the kill, these
tormentors with their obscenities,
Taunting day after day,
"Where is this God of yours?"

11 Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul?
Why are you crying the blues?
Fix my eyes on God—
soon I'll be praising again.
He puts a smile on my face.
He's my God.

Of Manners and Nursing

I don't usually write about being a nurse but this morning my frustration level demands just that.

Why is it that people have to be so rude to nurses? What on earth did we ever do to deserve being treated like that? Never in your life have you ever met people more interested in being kind and compassionate to someone than nurses- why would we be nurses if we weren't! But more and more, I meet nurses who have a hard time taking the abuse. Some retaliate by being curt; others by being slack or inattentive. Then there are the over-emotional ones (like me) who go home and cry over it. I'm just so tired of being picked on and abused.

We have a nursing shortage. There are many reasons why we have a nursing shortage. But one of those reasons is NOT for lack of people wishing to be nurses. Nursing schools have waiting lists- more students than the faculty can manage. We can't get them educated fast enough! But it's not at the input where the problem lies. We drop like flies. We're not dropping because it's difficult work- don't get me wrong- it's hard work. But we're by-and-large a hard working crew. We leave nursing because we get tired of being disrespected by doctors, patients, families, and hospital management.

As the population ages and technology improves, we are keeping more and more people alive for longer and longer lives and with sicker and meaner illnesses (like heart disease, cancer, diabetes, and a long, long list of autoimmune and degenerative diseases). The demand for nurses and their skills is skyrocketing. Yet many physicians and patients show little to no respect or manners. And do you realize what that will get you? Less and less nurses- when what we need is just the opposite. There is no great schedule or paycheck that is worth being treated like poop. And for many of us simply knowing in our hearts that we're contributing to someone's well-being isn't worth the abuse. By all means, we could all go be belly dancers and contribute to well-being! At least then people would pay attention to you and smile!

The problem is much deeper, I suppose. Parents who don't teach their children to say, "Please" and "Thank you". Television shows that objectify or disrespect nurses as professionals. Hospital administrators who preach, "Physicians First! Physicians First! Because physicians bring patients and without patients you have no job!" When in actuality, if there are no nurses, the hospital administrators have no job (unless they go back to nursing school!) As long as there is life on this side of Heaven, there will be a job for nurses. The problem is as multifaceted as the Epcot ball.

So I guess I'm just saying that if you can't say something nice today, don't say anything at all. Remember your manners and smile occasionally. There may be a teacher, or a policeman, or a bank teller, or a grocery cashier who's feeling the same way as me today. Belly dancing is looking better and better all the time!

Welcome Home

We went to a new church on Sunday. The Old Testament reading was from Jeremiah 23: 1-4.

"Doom to the shepherd-leaders who butcher and scatter my sheep!" God's Decree. "So here is what I, God, Israel's God, say to the shepherd-leaders who misled my people: 'You've scattered my sheep. You've driven them off. You haven't kept your eye on them. Well, let me tell you, I'm keeping my eye on you, keeping track of your criminal behavior. I'll take over and gather what's left of my sheep, gather them in from all the lands where I've driven them. I'll bring them back where they belong, and they'll recover and flourish. I'll set shepherd-leaders over them who will take good care of them. They won't live in fear or panic anymore. All the lost sheep rounded up!' God's Decree."

-The Message

This verse has been a balm to my wounded soul so many times in the past year or so. How precious I feel knowing that God understands my aches and promises to provide a shepherd-leader who will take good care of me.
I knew I was home.

Molly told me tonight that at our old church, they have recently instituted a practice (I'm hoping for safety's sake) of numbering all the kids in the kids' building. When they come to church in the morning, they receive a number. When their parents come to fetch them after service, their parent must request their number (not their child). Then the children's worker will report to that number's room and request that number for pick up.

Glad to no longer be a number. I'm ready to recover and flourish.

For information on the new fold see here.

Who Shall Teach Us to Worship?

I opened a book to read a little this evening. I don't think I'll ever finish reading this book. There seems to be no time for reading and besides, it's one of those "thinking" books. You know, the kind you can't read if there's any other noise in the room other than your own breathing. But I wanted to read someone's intelligent ramblings on worship (yes... I'm still riding that horse!).

Rod made a comment yesterday that was profound and beautiful. He said that when he said it, all his students wrote it down. He seemed surprised, but I wasn't. It was a great concept. What he said was this:

There is no one better than Jesus to teach us to how to be a disciple. There is no one better than the Holy Spirit to teach us how to pray.

But my question is this: Who will teach us to worship?

Harold Best, in Unceasing Worship, says that "worship is the continuous outpouring of all that I am, all that I do and all that I can ever become in light of a chosen or choosing god." From the little bit that I've read so far, Mr. Best sounds as if worship is not something we learn, it's something we do-perhaps even without knowing. We are all worshiping all the time. Worship seems to be where we put our efforts, where we focus, live, pay, ponder, devour. I think I finally understood when he related it to "self-worship".

I have long felt that self-worship, self-absorption, is the biggest, meanest, nastiest, yet most common ailment of the human race. Yet it is something I understand all too intimately. And I know that when one is self-absorbed, there is precious little that can distract the worshiper from his (her) god. I understand that this is the wrong way to worship yet I understand it. And from that standpoint, perhaps I can learn.

When I am self-absorbed, I know that I am consumed with my desires, needs, thoughts and emotions. I know that I view all circumstances through the lens of how it will effect me. I know that when I hear someone else speak of their life, I wonder what it has to do with me or if someone announces a change or a development, I wonder what impact it will have on my life. I know that when I am self-absorbed, I make sure that my needs are met. I come first. Hands down. No discussion.

But what if that were all focused where it belonged... on God? What would it look like? Change each one of those sentences to a God focus:
I am consumed with God's desires, needs, thoughts, emotions.
I view all circumstances through God's lens.
When I hear someone speak of their life, I wonder how God fits into it.
When someone announces a change or a development, I wonder what impact God can have on it.
I make sure that God's needs are met.
He comes first.
Hands down.
No discussion.

It is not difficult to be a self-worshiper. No one taught me how to do that. It was easy. I figured it out all on my own. Being an expert on self-worship should make it easy to transfer that talent towards God worship. So ultimately, perhaps the best person to teach how to worship is myself.

Been There Done That

I've been so sad lately. Lots of reasons so I'm not really too worried about it but I just seem to be going deeper down instead finding my way back up to the top. And that part's unusual. What's also unusual (although not that unusual) is that I got a little upset with God about it today. I told him he was boring. I know he knew I didn't really mean it. But I was just expressing that in all of the excitement of life, all the things there were to do, all the things I wanted to do vs. all the things I had to do, reading the Bible and praying just didn't seem very exciting. And they certainly didn't seem like a very likely way to cheer myself up.

But I did it anyway. Not really kicking and screaming, but not excited either. It was more like going to the doctor when you know you're sick. Resignation.

Psalm 85. It said he could restore me. Bring back good times. It said he'd done it before- he could do it again. And I was reading it from a bible study by Nancy Leigh DeMoss. She kept asking me to look up scriptures about Jesus. How did Jesus embody this verse? How was that verse accomplished by the cross? And to tell the truth, I had to read it in two different versions, assimilate the two, to get to what I think she was getting at. It felt like a stretch.

So there it was. God's voice. Why did he want me to read a psalm about him restoring good times to his people and then focus on Jesus, who is never once mentioned in the psalm and if there are references to him, they are buried very deeply? What did Jesus have to do with this? I've been studying the character of God. I could have easily gone there with this psalm. But Jesus?

I've been feeling lonely lately... surrounded by lots and lots of people but very, very alone. I've wondered why all these people haven't been able to help me feel not quite so lonely. Maybe God just wanted me to remember that Jesus was a person too. That in him, my relationship with him, I might find what I'm looking for. Somehow it's easier to look to a human Jesus to help me through this. One who's been through it; who understands what it feels like to be misunderstood, or unwanted, or unable to accomplish everything there is to be accomplished. What it feels like to be interrupted, unappreciated, or tired. What it means to expect one thing and get something else, to feel like you'd accomplished something important only to have it rejected.

yeah... maybe that's it.

Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let's not let it slip through our fingers. We don't have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He's been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let's walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help.

Hebrews 4:14-16 (The Message)

Goals vs. the Journey

In the quiet drizzly-ness of this morning, I took a long overdue trip back to the Oswald site and discovered among many things, that he's the one who inspires me to blog. Actually, I already knew that but was hoping deep in my heart that I could blog without reading him! There's just something in processing what he writes that gets my juices flowing and this morning was no different.

I have been immersed in goals lately. They have been swarming around me from so many different facets of my life that they have been causing a lot of anxiety. I suppose having unreached goals doesn't produce anxiety for everyone but for some reason, the goals I've set for this summer are huge to me - and I'm not there. So this level of panic is rising in me as I see the summer coming to a close and I have not achieved what I have set out to accomplish. Some of the goals don't even have deadlines and yet I'm stressing over them. Many of them I have placed on myself but some just come with the job of being me. Rod asks me what's wrong and all I can tell him is that I feel so out of control. Like the disciples in a storm tossed boat with the goal to get to Bethsaida by morning (Mark 6:45-52), I'm out of control, at the mercy of the elements.

But here's the kicker: Jesus walks past the disciples and his presence isn't even comforting. They're so stressed out by now that they're scared "out of their wits" when they see him. Now realize, this happened AFTER the famous Jesus-sleeping-in-the-stern; Scared-disciples-wake-him-up; Accuse-him-of-not-caring-if-they-die; Jesus-calms-the-storm-story! (Mark 4:35-41) So the disciples have already had a very similar experience on this very same sea with a bad storm. They've already seen their beloved teacher calm the storm in three words. The only difference is that this time they set out without him so that he had to walk on the water to get to them. And once again, they are terrified.

Now grant it, Jesus sent them off "without him" but he was never really away from them. The bible says he could see them and that he knew what they were struggling against. So he came to them but they were terrified because they thought he was a ghost. There was no recall that this was the man who had just fed 5,000 people supper with five loaves of bread and two fish. There was no memory of him calming the sea, healing the sick, or raising the dead. All they knew was that this sea they were in was out of control with deadly waves, whipping wind, and now ghosts!

So here I am, storms, wind, waves, ghosts- all preventing me from reaching the shore. I'm fighting waves of anxiety and bursts of panic over goals that seem out of reach. Insert Oswaldian wisdom: The goal isn't to reach the shore. And the sooner I realize that, the sooner I will find relief. The goal is to see Jesus walking on the storm- to see his calming approach, totally aware of where I am and where I need to be. To see Jesus in control and recognize him, embrace him, trust him. The goal is to be transformed from an anxiety-laden, goal-focused self, to a trusting, peace-filled disciple who rides out the storms knowing that that's where the growing happens. That's where the Maker meets me and teaches me that life isn't about accomplished goals, it's about him glorified in the journey.

The Pursuit Begins

I'm reading a book by A.W. Tozer called, "The Pursuit of God." It's not a beach read, if you know what I mean. I've read just the preface three times. Usually I dislike books like that- that I have to re-read simply to understand what it's about. But for some reason, this one is different. Perhaps because it seems to be speaking so loudly to me about what our church seems to be going through.

In the very first chapter, Tozer says, "We must simplify our approach to (God). We must strip down to the essentials (and they will be found to be blessedly few). We must put away all effort to impress, and come with the guileless candor of childhood. If we do this, without doubt, God will quickly respond." (Italics mine).

I need a response from God, so I began to wonder what the blessedly few essentials were. One I'm quite sure of: worship.

Worship is something our church has done away with. They still sing some songs before the preacher preaches, but true worship has been tossed. I know that people at my church might heatedly disagree with me, but it's true, none-the-less. Worship, communing with God, telling Him of your love for him while tears stream down your face, celebrating his goodness, his faithfulness, his power, his perfection: it just doesn't happen. I believe we could do nothing at all but worship him and he would still be pleased.

Tozer goes on to say that "there is little that we need other than God Himself. The evil habit of seeking God-and effectively prevents us from finding God in full revelation. In the and lies our great woe. If we omit the and we shall soon find God, and in Him we shall find that for which we have all our lives been secretly longing."

At our church, we seek God-and-experiencing life (or perhaps it is better said, "God-and-L.I.F.E.") L.I.F.E is our program for experiencing life in Christ. It has its four indicators to make sure you're doing it right. If you've Got Christ (said like, "Got Milk?") then you Live for others, Invite others to L.I.F.E. in Christ, Follow the teachings of God, and Exalt God above all else. That's how you'll know you've got it right.

But that's not what Tozer says. He says that if you've got it right, it will be manifest as an increased yearning for God- a hot pursuit- an unquenchable thirst for Him and Him alone. But you don't have to take my word, or even Tozer's word for it. Jesus said it this way, "And this is the real and eternal life. That they know you, the one and only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you sent." (John 17:3)

My church appears to pursue image, larger buildings, more members, and a greater profile in this community rather than God. Now, they vehemently deny that's what they're about. They repeat over and over that "numbers" simply means "lives" and as the numbers increase, that means that lives are touched. They say that bigger and more beautiful facilities will draw people so they can then teach them about God. The better and bigger facilities will make it easier to teach people about God. They color it with words that sound right, but even Satan got most of the words right when he messed with Eve in Eden. Expanding programs, and numbers, and buildings seems a roundabout way to reach God. I find I want less and less of what they have to offer. I find my peace in siding with the tribe of Levi, who, when God divided the land of Canaan among his children, Levi received none. "I AM thy part and thine inheritance," He told them.

Messy Rooms, Mean Rules, and Fiddler Crabs

At my house,we have a fairly unpopular rule. The rule states, "No vacation or long break from school may start until your room is clean." When we instituted this rule, there was a great gnashing of teeth and wailing but even my messiest child (I will not divulge which this might be, for fear of retaliation) cleaned her room in record time. Right down to the Barbie (TM) shoes under her bed! It's a severe rule, I know. But sometimes drastic measures are required for drastic situations.

This last time, however, there really was very little discussion amongst the troops about it. I believe I mentioned it once or twice and, lo and behold, rooms were clean. Vacuumed and everything. How refreshing to see them not buck and fight "the system"- to accept what structure I had set up for them. And how pleasant to not be thought of as a horrible monster by the children I love. And this morning's installment of Oswald caused me to stop and ponder my own behavior regarding such situations.

If you believe in Jesus, you are not to spend all your time in the smooth waters just inside the harbour bar, full of delight, but always moored; you have to get out through the harbour bar into the great deeps of God and begin to know for yourself, begin to have spiritual discernment.

He referenced Romans 12: 1-2 (and I always take a little extra time on a verse when it starts with the words, "So here's what I want you to do..."). Take my everyday life, embrace it, place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God has done for me is the best thing I can do for Him (paraphrase).

It seems lately that I've been waiting for God to do some sort of miracle around me so I can embrace it. Fix what's going on at my church, at my job, with my health. Then, maybe, I could embrace it, work at being a better member, a better employee, a better wife, mother, friend. (Maybe HE could clean my room!) But that's not what this verse says. It says these are the conditions he's set up for me. Here are the ways I should live my everyday, laundry-toting-spaghetti-cooking- shift-working-imperfect-friend-and-family-life. And if I embrace it whole heartedly, I will no longer see God as someone who doesn't understand me or my needs, but as someone with huge, deep insights into my soul, who knows better than I what would make me happy.

Will bought two fiddler crabs yesterday. We read a little bit and discovered that they prefer "brackish" water over fresh, clean water. They live in the tidal pools, and swampy places near the shore."Nasty," was the first word that floated through my head. The girl at the pet store confirmed my thoughts when she said that the fiddler crabs were the dirtiest critters she had to care for. They could make the water in their tank black within the week. I wouldn't want to live in their environment. And it's not where God wants me to live either. Why stay close to the shore where the tide can't come clean my life? Why stayed moored to shallowness and staleness? Why continue thinking of God as someone who doesn't honestly know what's best for me?


So, yes, I may have to pull up anchor and do a bit of work and I may definitely need a serious attitude change. But somehow, it's easier trusting that this is really what's best for me. And if I roll up my sleeves and actively embrace what He has provided me, I'll get to sail out to deeper waters where I can enjoy Him even more.

Now, if I could only get them to keep their rooms this way...

Frogs, Cars, and Quiet Times

Several posts back I told you that Molly and I are doing a special Sunday school class called Secret Keeper Girls. Well, for our "date" this week, she was supposed to get a fancy up-do. For many of us moms, these weekly dates have been difficult to squeeze into our already packed and hectic schedules. So this week, most of us met at the church and a couple of daring young ladies, armed with curling irons, crimping irons, rubber bands, and can upon can of hairspray attacked those wild tresses and brought about works of art! It was a small room, late in the afternoon, filled with bouncing and buzzing girls who had more than enough energy to light a small city. One of the hair magicians said something about needing some music, so I dug a David Crowder CD out of my car and added it to the din.

And there, among the noise, sitting in a smallish sized chair with my head bowed close to my book, I studied the 27th psalm.

"How like my life of late," I thought. This seemed the total antithesis of a "quiet time". But it was all I had. I had to laugh when I came to verses 4 & 5 which say..."I'll study at his feet. That's the only quiet, secure place in a noisy world. The perfect getaway far from the buzz of traffic."

You might think that with all that noise and "traffic" around me that I didn't get much out of my study, but I did. I began to wonder about why The Message translates this passage as the buzz of traffic while the NIV and KJV translate it as "the day of trouble". So I looked up the word translated "trouble" to see just exactly what kind of trouble we were talking about.

The word is "rah" in Hebrew and it means "bad, evil, disagreeable, malignant, giving unhappiness or pain, distress, adversity, calamity, injury, wrong, misery" and is also sometimes translated as "hurt".

It didn't seem a far stretch for me because I know that my life looks a lot like high speed traffic. And I know that that high speed traffic has caused me to experience every bit of the kind of trouble the word "Rah" represents. Sometimes I feel like the little green frog in the old arcade game Frogger. My goal is to get across that busy highway alive yet I move much slower than the unpredictable, speeding cars. Sometimes life just seems so much bigger and meaner and louder than me. And sometimes I feel totally hopeless that I'll be able to cross the street in one piece. So, yes, to that helpless little frog, all that traffic does equal a day of trouble. That's when I need to take my Bible and sit down to study at His feet, because God said,

"Don't be afraid, I've redeemed you.
I've called your name. You're mine.
When you're in over your head, I'll be there with you.
When you're in rough waters, you will not go down.
When you're between a rock and a hard place,
it won't be a dead end—
Because I am God, your personal God,
The Holy of Israel, your Savior.
I paid a huge price for you:
all of Egypt, with rich Cush and Seba thrown in!
That's how much you mean to me!
That's how much I love you!
I'd sell off the whole world to get you back,
trade the creation just for you.

-Isaiah 43:1-4, The Message

Seems to me that pretty much covers little frogs trying to cross the street!

Wisps of Fog

This is such a beautiful time of year- my very favorite. The world is so new and beautiful. How is it then that our society has made certain that we miss this time of year if at all possible? Any mom knows that April and May are the worst months of the year to try to plan anything. Ask to see any family calendar this time of year and the blocks all bleed together with writing creeping out of the squares and up the side of the margin. The kids all had dentist appointments last Thursday. I knew about them- they were even written on the calendar and I heard the message the receptionist left on my answering machine. But did we go? Of course not! There was so much crammed into the day that when something else came up at the last minute, I completely forgot about the dentist. (Note to self: NEVER schedule dentist appointments in the spring!)
Don't get me wrong! I'm not complaining! So much of the busyness is a celebration of family and individual talents and efforts. Orchestra concerts (three to be exact), band concerts (2), track meets (too many to count), rehearsals and lessons and practices for all of the above, ballet auditions and rehearsals, weddings, meetings, field trips, showers, going away parties, the list goes on and on.

My husband has taken a new approach to this chaos this year. He has deliberately slowed down. As I ran across the parking lot to rush home the other day, I had to wait while he took pictures of the moon through Spanish moss. And wait while he takes pictures of flowers. And wait while he takes pictures of children playing. And wait while he takes pictures of...

Maybe he's trying to hold on to all this that's slipping through our fingers like sand. Maybe he's trying to preserve it for me because he knows I'm missing it. I know I need to follow his lead. What does all this rushing around get me, anyway?

For I don't know the first thing about tomorrow. I'm nothing but a wisp of fog, catching a brief bit of sun before disappearing. (James 4:13-15 The Message) If this is all I have, I want to make the best choice.

It's a Seasonal Thing

I can't remember exactly how it goes but it was something about our relationship with God being like seasons. And how once we've learned to embrace the dry, dead appearing times with the same vigor and praise as the vibrant, lively times, and learn to see God at work in one just as much as the other, then we are approaching spiritual maturity.

It's what came to mind this morning when for Easter, all I wanted was a beautiful, warm, worship party, like a child who greedily wants an Easter basket full of candy and goodies. How could it be Easter and not be just like that? Overflowing with goodness beyond measure. More sweet bounty of love and fellowship than one can stomach. A day that leaves one reeling from the sugar high. I didn't count on feeling just as excised and amputated as always- more like a hang-nail than a real Body part.

I guess spiritual maturity is still quite a ways off.

There are seasons when the tree is green, there are seasons when it is dry, and seasons when, for the life of us, the thing looks dead. Now, does this mean you are serving some capricious God who comes and goes by whim? Or, could it be that it is only through seasons that true growth may come?
- The Celtic Book of Prayer, Aidan Readings, April 21

Nemo

There once was a baby named, "Nemo"
Who was loved much more than he knew.
For his family was bigger and brighter than most
And their love for him grew and grew.

He had a Mommy and Daddy
A brother and sister too.
But he also had nurses and doctors
Who thought they were family too!

There was Jessie who rocked him at night time,
And Sarah who loved him by day.
On weekends Ms. Pat held him out in the station
And on the computer he'd play.

Gayle took him rides in the wagon,
And Allison snuck him some cake.
Leisa and Tony took care of his baths
And Oh! What a noise he would make!

They all knew how much he liked music,
And they kept him well stocked in toys.
They spoiled him royally and kissed on his cheeks,
The way you should all little boys!

He loved to hold on to long silky hair
And to pull on IDs that went, "snap"!
But when he was tired or too sick to play
He loved to sit still on your lap.

He'd nod his head "yes" and then cut his eyes
To see if you thought he was funny.
And everyone smiled and laughed at his trick.
When he smiled the whole world was sunny.

Sometimes Rebecca would bounce up and down
And Nemo would copy her dance.
When Lori played "peek-a-boo" under her desk,
He'd giggle and steal a quick glance.

Teresa and he had a game that they played-
He'd throw all his toys on the floor.
And after she picked them up all one by one,
He'd see if she'd play just once more.

There was something that Nemo found slightly odd:
Part of his family thought he liked frogs!
Like Jena and Becca with fun things to shake,
And even Ms. Helen! What sense did this make?

But he understood lonely and watching TV.
And despite what Doc Casey might say,
He understood TVs were really no fun.
He much preferred people who'd play.

Like Amy who nibbled on fingers and toes,
And Heather who read him his book,
And JoAnn who taught him where "this piggy goes",
He stole all of their hearts with one look.

When playtime was hampered by feeling real bad,
By fevers or bad tummy aches,
His nurse would come rock him and hold him real tight
While he'd reach up and stroke on her face.

He brought in his first New Year with nurse Angela.
His birthday was all about fish.
For Christmas his picture adorned the staff's tree.
But deep in his heart he'd a wish.

A wish for a tummy that liked what he ate,
And to stop all the pain and the pokes.
And even though hospital people were nice,
He wished he could live with his folks.

Poor Nemo seemed weaker as each day went by,
His family doing all they could do.
But then came a call and a long airplane ride.
And now- his wish would come true!

And though they all missed him so terribly much,
His hospital family and friends,
Their prayers were all answered as Nemo got well
And his sick little body did mend.

So deep in their hearts they will never forget
The baby they'd all come to know.
They'd treasure their memories and oft call to mind
Their stories of Baby Nemo.


(And P.S.: Happy B-day, Rah-Rah! We love you!)

Dog Bones, Banana Peels, and Radio Announcers

Yesterday morning on the way to work (very, very early in the morning) I heard an advertisement on WMHK. The announcer was proclaiming how God so often says exactly what you need to hear at just the right time, and how sometimes he even uses the medium of radio to do so. Then, of course, he proceeded to ask for money for the station. After I pulled into my spot in the parking garage, I picked up my Message to briefly read through the Psalm we are going to study this week for our Sunday School lesson. And here I am again, reading something I swear I've never read before but knowing that I have to have read it before because I've read all of the book of Psalms more than once!

It was Psalm 37. Maybe it was that I had never read it in The Message before, because when I read it in the NIV last night, it was very familiar. But reading it in The Message shed a whole new light on it and I knew right away that it was God, saying exactly what I needed to hear, at exactly the right time- just like the radio announcer said.

Psalm 37 talks a lot about how the righteous will fare in life, compared to the wicked. I've always believed "the wicked" were those people who intentionally do evil things. You know the type: they're the super villains in the super hero stories- General Zod, The Joker, Emperor Palpatine. They're the people in horror or suspense movies, like Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs. They're the meanies on the news who kidnap children or beat up old ladies. But that doesn't really fit the description of "wicked" that God uses. The Hebrew word used most in Psalm 37 for "wicked" is "rasha", meaning:

1. wicked, criminal
a. guilty one, one guilty of crime
b. wicked (hostile to God)
c. wicked, guilty of sin (against God or man)

Hmmm. Now who, exactly, does that last bit sound like? You? Me? The people I interact with day in and day out? That's why when Eugene Peterson translates wicked in The Message, he uses words like "braggart" and "those who climb the ladder", and "bullies". People who are self-focused and self-made. Self-centered and self-sufficient. Scary, huh? They sound like the people we work with, work for, live with, socialize with, and possibly, the people we are.

I'm not always perfect, not even close. But I know that more than anything, I want to keep company with God.
I want him to validate my life in the clear light of day.
I want to be God strong. To be happy while he holds my hand tightly, lest I stumble and fall.
I want to turn my back on evil and work for good.
To walk in step with God, close enough to hear his breath and his heartbeat.

The psalmist says that people like that chew on God's word like a dog chews on a bone. What a word picture there! Have you watched a dog chew on a bone? Dogs can chew on a bone for hours on end. Even when it looks like there's nothing left worth chewing on, they keep at it. It looks like they're not making any progress, hours and hours of chewing and the bone still looks the same. But eventually, one day it's devoured. Determination. Fascination. Obsession. Who knows? But try to take a bone from an enamored dog and you just may lose your hand. That's the way I'm to be with God's word. Possessive. Obsessive. Non-stop fascination.

And who knows? Just maybe I'll reap a few benefits along the way... say, maybe, a little less fretting, a spacious, free life, happiness at being held when the way gets a little rocky. And maybe even get to catch a glimpse of some bully slipping on the proverbial banana peel!

Blue

How can a heart be so heavy on a day so beautiful?
How can one doubt so surely everything that's good, and beautiful when it's so vividly real in front of their very face?
Why?
Why would one readily believe things that are negative, even detrimental when there is very little evidence they even exist?
How can one look at a smattered blue bird lying on the edge of the road and not believe there's somehow more to it than just that- a smattered blue bird?

Blue birds should never be smattered.

He Who is Least Among You

"Once we have become poor, we can be a good host. It is indeed the paradox of hospitality that poverty makes a good host. Poverty is the inner disposition that allows us to take away our defenses and convert our enemies into friends... since we have nothing to lose but all to give."
-Nouwen

I stumbled across this quote on the blog of a friend of a friend this AM. I had never visited that blog before but I believe God wanted me to see this particular quote. I don't know who Nouwen is or where this quote can be found, but I found it extremely powerful- especially after spending the morning frantically cleaning and fretting. Why? Only because two women (who have been here before... several times) were coming over for a very informal Bible study.

I remember when I toured with a singing group from college and stayed in peoples' homes that the least wealthy were almost always, without a doubt, the best hosts. I didn't figure that out back then. Back then, I'd always wait with bated breath to see how big and fancy the house was. When we'd gather back together in the morning, stories would be flying to see who had stayed at the most extravagant home. There are specific things I remember: a home so large I couldn't find my way to my bedroom. One that had a kitchen so large you could fit the entire downstairs of my house in it. One family had a daughter in a private high school for politician's kids around DC. In one of these fine households, the family left before we woke, leaving us no breakfast and my roomie and I tried to figure out how to make "toast" in a microwave and went through half of loaf of bread before we trudged off hungry. (Yes, I can cook... now.) I don't have any pictures of any of my host families and I remember very little about them. But Rod has stories about a family who really couldn't afford to keep anyone but did anyway. We have pictures of them. They were so thrilled to be allowed to host kids and Rod could tell you details from staying there. And his stories aren't horror stories. They are stories about what good hosts they were.

I remember during my public health rotation in undergrad that the patients we would visit were always so thrilled to be getting nursing students. One elderly couple had barely enough to eat. There was one orange in a bowl on the table. But the precious lady insisted that we split it four ways, one quarter each for me, my nursing student buddy, herself, and her ailing diabetic husband. I have memories of children in Costa Rica bringing me tiny treasures that belonged to them as going away gifts when I visited there one summer. Villagers in Jesus de Otoro, Honduras, showering us with gifts when we visited my sister who lived there during her years in the Peace Corps. Every experience genuine and memorable- because the people didn't give things- they gave of themselves.

It's so easy when we have a lot of stuff to dish stuff out and feel like we've accomplished something. When I went to Moldova we handed out toys we had collected to the orphans. I was appalled at what some people had offered. Broken McDonald's Happy Meal toys... they couldn't part with the ones that weren't broken? Sheesh! I wanted to give them the very best and what we had looked like junk.

I don't want to offer junk. I want to offer my best; I want to offer me; I want to offer- not just me- but the very best me there is. I don't want to be embarrassed by what I gave. I pray that I will keep in touch with my own poverty so that I will only strive to offer my very best.