A Beautiful Hope

Today is a new day.
(Right at the beginning of a new year, I might add.)

For the last two weeks, I've been flooded from all sides with hope, with possibility, and with a vision for a future that looks so much brighter than I ever thought possible.

Even in the midst of rapid changes all around us, and the 'not-knowing-what's-shaking-out', I still sense an incredible hope.

My outlook on life causes me to embrace change, to almost look forward to it.
In order to survive the sometimes crushing strife that change can bring, I have to seek God.

Sometimes, when seeking Him, He gives me glimpses of what He's doing, in order to understand why things are happening the way they are.  He broadens my perspective beyond my own little slice of existence.


Here we sit, it's after Christmas and into the new year.

We just celebrated the birth of our Savior.  I'm still wrapping my head around all that entails, especially for today.  In order to do that, I have to look at the Christmas story through my own eyes.

The prophets knew that the Messiah was coming.  But it was only Mary and Joseph that knew the baby Mary carried was the Christ.

Imagine this, if you will:

The baby you carry is the prophesied and long awaited Messiah.  The one destined to save Israel, as the religious leaders have taught for centuries.  (Just like we teach the second coming of Christ today...)

This would normally be something celebrated, just as we celebrate the news of a new baby today.

But, there is a scandal.  You have not yet married the man you're engaged to.
(And remember, pre-marital 'relations' in this culture could be a death sentence.)

So here you are, pregnant. Pregnant not by your husband, or even by your fiance, but pregnant by God.

(No one's going to believe this, as it is.  But it gets better...)

And, to top it off, you're pregnant, and the child you carry is the Son of God!  The one promised, the one long awaited by the entire nation.

And you can't tell a soul...


I can only imagine the conversations that Mary & Joseph have.  You know, after that first awkward one...

They knew the teachings, they know that things were going to be different from then on out.  But I don't think they had any idea what that would look like.

I'm sure that during her pregnancy Mary and Joseph, if they were anything like any other couple expecting a child, they were filled with hopes and dreams already.
   
The hope that a child brings is endless.  The faith that takes over when a pregnancy occurs is often unnoticed, but it is the fuel for visions of the future, and the endless, endless possibilities.

Now, add on to those hopes and dreams, the knowledge that your child is the Christ-child.  The Messiah.  The one to save your nation.

We all dream greatness for our children, don't we.  But to know?  That would fuel all kinds of fantastic dreams, wouldn't it?

So the baby comes.
For those who've had children, it's never at a convenient time, is it?  (I remember when my mom went into labor with my brother, our entire family was camping...  Two hours away from the hospital.)

Mary and Joseph aren't at home, thanks to the census; they end up in the only shelter they can find, so she can deliver the baby.  Not a hospital, not a doctor or midwife's office.  Not even a hotel.  Scripture puts them in a barn; a shepherd's shelter.

A barn doesn't even sound that far-fetched, because we think of the barns we've seen our entire lives.

In all actuality, the shelter the holy family ended up in was a cave, a rocky cutout on the side of a hill.

Everything about this story leads me to believe that nothing about this was turning out as Mary and Joseph planned, or expected.

I wonder if they paid that any mind.

As the life of Jesus progresses, we see more and more of the unexpected.

Who would've thought that this baby, God-with-us, would shatter the barriers between clean and unclean right out of the gate (or womb, if you will), and that the first ones to come worship Him were the very ones that the Jewish religion said weren't clean enough to come to the temple, because of their occupation.

Who would've ever thought that a boy, not quite on the edge of manhood, would be teaching and challenging the religious leaders?

Who would've thought that the Son of God would provide more alcohol for a party where everyone's already drunk!  And not only that, but it would be the good stuff, too!  (When Jesus turned the water into wine, it wasn't no Boone's Farm...)

Who would've thought that the Son of God would have so much disdain for the religious leaders, the ones who were supposed to be so in touch with God?

Who would've thought that the Son of God would be walking around healing people, bringing them back to wholeness - physically, spiritually, and communally, instead of following the letter of the Law that separated and ostracized the sick from the rest of the people?

Who would've ever thought that the Messiah wouldn't be focusing on the twelve tribes of Israel anymore.  Instead He invested time, a period of His life, in His relationships with twelve men.
Working, eating, sleeping, walking, drinking, healing, traveling, praying, teaching, correcting.
He didn't focus on occupation, or on their stations in life; He was teaching them the Kingdom of God.

And then, who would've thought that the Son of God would lay down his life for us.

Not just to show his love for us, it's deeper than that.  Yes, He showed His love.  If you don't believe me, read the prayers of Jesus in John 17.
Yes, it's deeper, bigger than just "love".  A greater redemption story is at work here, playing out over and over, time and time again.


Back to today.
Christmas has come and gone.  The Savior has been born.  And with Him, hope has been born as well.
Do we know what this looks like?  I guarantee, it's probably not what we expect, because the spiritual landscape is changing; just as it changed when Christianity was brand new.
We can't see it, because we're in it, we're part of it.

Christ came to restore us to the relationship we had with God back in the Garden of Eden.  Walking in the cool of the day, side by side with God.  Walking, talking, living, tending, learning, correcting... sound familiar?

The new year arrives, and when it does, we put the past behind us.  We let go of the mistakes of the last 365 days, with the hope that the next 365 will be better.

With every new year, our resolutions burst forth:  to make new changes, to improve ourselves, to make something better in or around us.  The new year brings hope that swirls around us, fills us, and inspires us.

What trips us up in all our new year's resolutions is faith.  Or maybe, it's our inability to incorporate faith into them...

You see, faith is messy.  It is sticky, it is hard, and it is ever changing.

We don't know what to do with it, because it's a gift that's been given, without directions.  And because there's no "blanket instructions", we don't know how to use this gift, or even know why it's a gift.

We don't know what to do with it, because it doesn't originate in us; it's planted there, like a seed, by the gift-giver.  And it has been given to us under the often-forgotten directions that we have to seek the giver, in order to seek the directions.

The gift itself, and the nature of the gift, necessitates we do this, not just once upon receiving the gift (touchdown!), or once a week, but day after day after day.  After all, Adam didn't just walk in the garden with God on Sundays...

And what we end up learning is that the "gift" is really building a relationship with the Giver; as it turns out, the gift IS the relationship between you and the Giver.  And as the relationship develops, the gift, the present, turns into the Presence.

Without that relationship, we're just little kids running around with a shiny new toy; a present that we don't know how to use, we don't know how it works, and don't know how to explain it to others.

And what do kids do in that situation?  Someone gets an idea, shares it, and all of a sudden, everyone's doing the same thing with their gift.
(This might also sound familiar.)

Here's the beauty of it... not one of us is the same, and yet, we've all received this perfect gift, one that's tailor-made for each of us.  The faith that I have is not even remotely close to the faith that my husband has.  Or that you have.  The gift each of us has been given has everything to do with who God designed us to be.

AND THAT IS NOT THE SAME PERSON!!!

Think of faith as a pair of jeans.  Super weird example, I know.  But follow me for a minute.
We all know that each of us has a favorite pair of jeans.  They fit just right, they make you feel good, they make you comfortable, and they're useful.  Like they were made...just for you!
Ladies, have you ever tried to wear men's jeans?  They just don't fit!  They're too big in the waist, too tight across the hips, and not enough room to move in the legs.
Men, I'm not even asking.

Even though there are millions of different pairs of jeans out there, we find the ones that fit us.  Our shape, our style, our purposes.

The same goes for faith.  My relationship with God, my faith, is different than yours.  As it should be.
In order to accomplish all God has for us, since one person can't do it all (nor were we designed to do it all - hence "community"), we need to be different.

Think about it.

If the Body of Christ was made up only of hands, we'd never go anywhere.
If the Body didn't have a spine, how would we be able to stand in the face of persecution?
And, if the Body didn't have a butt, we'd never be able to get rid of our... "Kakos"!

With the hope of something new being brought forth, just like a new year, or just like a baby in a manger, hold firm in the faith He's given you, and know that God is up to something.

Sometimes that's hard.  My God, I know this.  Our human instinct is to fight change, to hang on to the familiar.  But when we do that, we're no longer paying attention to the relationship, and we're hanging onto the religion.  The results are blinding; just ask the apostle Paul.

If we remove the cumbersome goggles of our own rules, expectations, and experiences of what we think God could, would, can or will do, we might just be able to see what He IS doing.

If we say that God can only move in one particular way, or that the Holy Spirit only does this, or only does that, we'd only be showing that our minds are closed, and would separate us further from those who don't experience God that way, or even worse, don't know what it's like to experience God at all.  How can we say that something is good or not good, when the lens we're looking through is limited by our own experiences?

For example.  If a pastor doesn't "move mountains" when they speak, or they don't take on what we think are the "appropriate tonal fluctuations" when they're delivering a message, it doesn't mean they're operating outside of the Spirit of God.

All this does is openly display the religion in our life, and blind us to what's going on around us.

So let's remove the glasses of all we have experienced "church" to be, and just for a few moments, imagine what the church could possibly look like.  This may sound completely unfathomable at this moment, but when Jesus came, He shook the world on its head.

Could it possibly be that the days of the attitude of the "pastor-knows-all" may be coming to a close?  With information at our fingertips 24 hours a day, ancient writings accessible electronically, and still, the temple curtain remains torn between God and ALL His people, it is quite possible for everyday regular people to have access to the same information as the pastor.

What could this mean??

That the people can minister to one another, can pray for one another, can bless one another, heal one another, and teach one another.  We can support one another, we can feed one another, we can nurture one another, and we can encourage one another.

If you think about it, it sounds a little bit like the Acts church.  Acts 2: 42-47 says this:
"The believers devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching, to the community, to the shared meals, and to their prayers.  A sense of awe came over everyone.  God performed many wonders and signs through the apostles.  All the believers were united and shared everything.  They would sell pieces of property and possessions and distribute the proceeds to everyone who needed them.  Every day, they met together in the temple and ate in their homes.  They shared food with gladness and simplicity.  They praised God and demonstrated God's goodness to everyone.  The Lord added daily to the community those who were being saved."

Acts 4:32-34 says this:  "The community of believers was one in heart and mind.  None of them would say, "This is mine!" about any of their possessions, but held everything in common.  The apostles continued to bear powerful witness to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and an abundance of grace was at work among them.  There was no needy persons among them."


And isn't it interesting that in Luke 10 and Mark 6, Jesus sends His disciples out in twos...

Sure, it doesn't seem like that big of a deal when we read it, but when we see it, when we experience it... It sure brings a new intensity to the message, a new understanding, and a new level of authority, doesn't it??


Imagine if the overall attitude of the church was Love first.

We use the scripture out of Mark 10:9 all the time as our affirmation of marriage, or our justification against divorce.  "Therefore, humans must not pull apart what God has put together."

But just listen to what it says there.  We don't even have to read between the lines!

God has put (us) together.

He is calling us into community with Him, and into community with one another.

Ever heard the saying, 'There's strength in numbers'?


Try to grasp, just for a moment, the immensity of the truth that every single one of us, inside and outside the church, is here for a reason...

Every.
Single.
One.
Of.
Us.

It's time we stopped using fear as a reason to separate ourselves from people who are different than we are.  God is putting us together, out of His love for us.  And it's our love for Him, that flows out to one another.

Great Love is shown when the desire to be connected to one another exceeds the desire to be correct.


What if church happened wherever we went?

Instead of being hung up on our fears, or our judgments, or our own priorities, what if we were so zeroed in to what God is up to in each situation, in each moment, that lives are changed wherever we go?

That our disbelief is cast aside, and in it's place stands fearlessness.

Imagine if we stopped judging one another for our failures, addressed the hurts we've all experienced, validated one another, linked arms and walked into healing together.

What would it look like if we used our God-given creative abilities to develop solutions to the problems that people face, like poverty, hunger and disease?  I saw a commercial this morning that said 1 in 4 children in North Carolina live in poverty.  What if we tapped into the power and reality of Heaven to remedy this!?

I'm telling you - God is doing this now!!

It's not just happening in this church, or the church down the street.  It's not just happening in one denomination.  It's not just happening overseas.

Expand your perspective a little bit...

It's happening at jobsites; it's happening at grocery stores; it's happening in neighborhood gatherings, kitchen tables, traffic jams, bus stops, public schools, and all kinds of places and situations we'd normally think to be regular or "unholy".

He's doing this all over the world!!!

We have a tendency, as human beings, to look around us and think that the world is burning to the ground, falling apart, or whatever terms we use to say "it's not looking so good".

Keep in mind, when Jesus was born, the Israelites thought the same thing about the world around them, too.

*Here's a secret:  It's always going to look that way if you don't have your eyes on Christ.


The game has changed.  Christ is our Vision.  And He is not limited to only where we think He is.  He is not hindered in any way, shape or form by our human restrictions and limitations.

I can almost guarantee that He is going to be in all the places we least expect Him; that He'll say what we don't expect Him to say, and He's already shown that He's doing what we don't expect Him to do!

And whether we like it or not, He's ushering in His Kingdom.

Please.  Do not limit yourselves by what we've always been taught, or the way things have always been done.

Listen to what He's telling you now, today and tomorrow.
And step into a future more beautiful than you've ever imagined, catching glimpses of Heaven along the way.

Death

I think I'm about to throw up.

I've felt this way all day.  Today is decision day.
Do we follow God, or do we declare ourselves god.

God P L E A S E make yourself real to them.

I'm unable to empathize, or even sympathize with them.  I cannot put myself in their shoes, to understand how they could possibly be turning their back on this new thing.  

Heartbreaking.  The chill in the air causes me to shiver, concealing the trembling.

************************
Flashback a few weeks:

There seems to be, in my own mind especially, a battle between church as we know it, and this new thing God's doing...
     ...perceived or not, denied or not, there's something shaking down in the deeps of the Body of Christ.

Certain statements and blanket comments and old-fashioned attitudes set off battles in my spirit, setting my neurons and my adrenaline levels into overdrive.

For example, recently someone asked a seemingly innocent question, about what if nasty weather had kept Mary and Joseph at home when Jesus was about to be born, obviously referring to nasty weather keeping people from church (building).

Innocent enough, sure.
Add in context, and it's not so any longer.  I'll spare that detail.
Now, take into account the weather on the morning the question was presented:  freezing cold, wet, rainy, patches of slick ice on the roads.

I put my myself into the mindset of the masses for a brief moment, and answer the question.  "...Oh, you're right.  How would I be displaying faith if I let the bad weather keep me home?"  Or something like that.
     As if our faithfulness is measured by our church attendance...

I know that there are church-goers everywhere who attend a church (building) every Sunday, without fail, (& scoff at those who don't, but that's besides the point).

Many believe, as they were taught by the 'faithful' before them, that your church attendance and the activities you're involved in at the church (building) is what shows your faithfulness.

Sadly, our church (building) attendance doesn't show how faithful we are, it shows how habitual we are.

*************************

Driving home one night, I pass by all the beautiful homes and farms on the main roads.  Decades of hard work have yielded the results I can see on this bright moonlit night.

I pass church (building) after church (building), some big, some small. Being part of a small church (building) myself, I understand to some human degree the mindset of the people in these communities who attend these churches (buildings).  Self-preservation, work ethic, and a strong sense of "I worked for it", for lack of a better term, are common attitudes accepted and live by here.

Off the beaten, well-worn main roads, I pass by the side roads that are notorious for their drug activity, and the seemingly shady activities that have been known to occur there under the shadows of night.

Right on the corner, a church (building).

As I make the connection in my mind, I wonder what is is about the passing paradigm that keeps the people of the church (building) from reaching the people in these nefarious neighborhoods, keeping them separated.

As I'm wondering this, the angle of the moonlight illuminates row after row of headstones in the cemetery on the corner.

    The irony is not lost on me.

**************************

I struggle with my church (building).  One-on-one with the people is no problem for me.  Loving my neighbor isn't as much of a struggle as I thought it would be.  (Turns out, I'm a people person.)   I've been humbled many times, and been told by God to bite my tongue enough times to learn to listen.  Really listen.
And in that listening, God's showing me that this particular body of believers is very much representative of how the un-churched world sees the church -as a whole.

When we're gathered together on Sunday mornings, we've started to idolize the building, and the people who attended the church (building) before us.  We honor "God's house", careful not to take food or drinks into the sanctuary, because, after all, that's God's pew, and doggone-it, you're gonna respect God's stuff.

But we have no problem rolling our eyes at the person giving a testimony, and we have no problem letting everyone know our disgust at the people who are different from us.  Or that the pastor went past noon again.
Or using disgusting and derogatory words for people when we think no one's listening.  We have no problem spending money on something to put our names on, while people in our own congregation are going hungry.

*************************

The Truth hurts.  No matter who delivers it, what form it comes in.

It causes us to finally pay attention to the true justice we know deep down in our souls, but are either taught to ignore, or just flat-out choose to ignore, based on the amount of discomfort it causes.

Even worse, and more devastating than that, is when we ignore the Truth for what we've always done.

The Truth causes us to examine who we are, with all of our character flaws, our imperfections.

In the face of Truth, do we let it transform us, or do we turn our backs on it, and remain in our comfortable little lives, oblivious to the moves of Heaven, and our part in it?

*************************

Where He goes, I will follow.

Change

I sit in my newly rearranged living room, awaiting the onslaught of impending Christmas decorations, with my to-do list in front of me.
And no desire whatsoever to get off my rump and get it done.

I am in desperate need of time to process everything that's going on, time to stop and just listen...  listen to anything God is saying to me right now.

I seem to be caught in the whirlwind of everything changing, in what seems like every direction, all at once.

Things I took for granted as being safe and stable in the past, aren't appearing so anymore.

Not that I don't want certain things to change, I've just never thought of these things as... "change-able".  I'd never put any conscious mental effort towards the possibility of these things being different.

In other words, I wasn't thinking too far into the future.

What I DO know, is that God is turning a corner.  He's doing the unexpected, in unexpected ways, and the only way we can tell is that nothing is comfortable anymore.

Church isn't comfortable any more.  (And for many, church has never been comfortable.)
      Invitations have been laid on the table, decisions need to be made.

     Discipleship, when intentional, feels like a brutal, double-fisted conversation with a brick wall.  It's the un-intentionality that's proving to be most effective.  And, it's in the unintentional discipleship that I'm being held accountable to what I teach, what I say, and what I live.

  What I'm finding is the incredible grace that lives in that space between accountability and the humbling.

Work is changing.
      (Hell, the fact that I'm working is enough to confirm that...)

Responsibilities are increasing, as well as the intensity of the relationships.
      I've become very close to a few of the women at work, women who are teaching me as much about human nature, the heart of God, and the grace that connects them, as I hoped I could bring to anyone else.
     These are women who display & live in a grace I couldn't fathom; as their lives and experiences are very different than mine.  I don't even know if they're aware of just how much I see the divine working in them, through them:
          not returning hate with hate...
          giving sacrificially to the unknown, unexpectedly....
          forgiveness...
          unmerited understanding...

I am humbled into a silence of admiration.  These aren't "church folks".


I'm having to adjust the way I learn, for even now, that's changing too.

I'm having to use my thinker pro-actively now.  I should've known; for years I've been under the instruction of incredible teachers, who've taught me that learning is a 2-way street - it involves my comprehension and mental application to information brought forth.  (Not just memorization)  The way I process it is dictated by who I am, the life and experiences I've had, and who I'm called to Be.

If I don't take the information I've learned and make it personal, or process it into something my brain understands through the filter called "my life", well, then I sound like a regurgitating robot, who has NO idea how to utilize what I've been given, whether it's for myself or for others.

And then, frankly, I'd sound like so many other Christians I've come into contact with, reciting Christian platitudes, yet living completely opposite to all the ways that Christ told us to live.

I'm processing this crash-course God's got me on right now.
     How He's teaching  and clarifying things in my intimate relationships, usually not until I've screwed something up, then confessing my lack of ability to do any of it apart from Him.

I'm seeing an increase in the number of Christian organizations, of every kind, being exposed for their (dark) religiosities, their hypocrisies.
      I can see doctrines- formed out of fear, or the desire to control or correct- utilizing the mis-translations and misinterpretations of Scripture as their goalposts.  It's created nothing but a culture of ignorance; spoon-fed baby food, barely satisfying the bone- and soul-deep desire to know and understand more.
And, like a baby, when we cry out for more, we get another spoonful of baby food.

It doesn't satisfy us, but it shuts us up.

One of the problems with this, is that if everyone's getting the same food, (just different flavors) then we're not getting what we need to G.R.O.W.

We're not growing up in our faith, because we've learned to rely on the regularly scheduled feedings.

This is why, after generations of increasing spoon-feedings, we're now living in a spiritually impotent "Christian" sub-culture, who's closest connection to Christ is the name we call ourselves.


So, after all this has been spoken and chewed on, I ponder this new insight as the Christmas season approaches.
God so loved the world (the people of the world) that He gave His only Son...

LOVE.

Hypocrisy cannot exist where Love is...
Love crushes all religion's rules and standards...

And now, FINALLY, I'm excited to see what's coming around the bend.

Safe Places

I should totally be working on my notes for Bible study tomorrow night.

But instead I'm hopelessly distracted by thoughts of what's going on around me/us.
(Hopefully I'll be able to get it all out before work, so I can actually get some work done today...)

This morning brings an early conversation from one of my girlfriends.  Her family was thrown a HUGE monkey wrench; and she's been coming out of the protective cocoon she created in the aftermath.
She's doing awesome.  (thank you, God!)  Much MUCH better than I would be, if I were in her shoes.

We're talking about plans for the weekend, the family gathering we're trying to put together last minute, to celebrate Thanksgiving with our group; our tribe; since we'll be scattered on actual Thanksgiving.

I'm loving this.
We're a safe place with each other, to each other.
We know we're all in different places in our lives, in the physical and the spiritual.  We (the girls) laugh at how we've got 4 decades covered in experience.  But never in my life have I seen four decades of women get along SO well.

We each have something to offer one another, and it's just usually, simply, who we are; something God knew we'd each need.

It's when we, okay fine...  It's when I start thinking about how to do this, or how to do that, that I get all preachy, and bitchy; thinking I know what I'm talking about.

Sigh...

I'm so thankful for all my safe places.  Not places I can go to, but places where I can be...me.

For my teachers who witness my moments of idiocy, my breakdowns, times when I open my mouth, thinking I know what I'm talking about, showing my tail.  And yet, they either ignore my idiocy, or gently guide me away from it. And they still continue to teach me.

For my husband, who sees all of it:  the questioning side, the confident side, the creative side, and the destructive side.  The learning side, the selfish side, the giving side.  The only one this side of heaven who knows my heart.  He may not know what to do with it at times, but he loves me anyway.

For my girlfriends, who've seen me show my tail, and then so graciously let me know in their own way that they love me, despite my imperfections. (I'm hearing a "Bless her heart" in there...)

I used to be jealous of times when my girlfriends would hang out, and I couldn't be part of it.  I would try to move heaven and earth to get to be part of their gathering, That's what my selfish, prideful and center-of-attention personality demanded.

And then I realized what a blockhead I am.
     Who am I to think that someone needs me around?
     Who am I to think that I can teach someone anything?
     Am I not still a student myself??!!

I have to keep this thought at the forefront of my day; or I become useless.

God isn't going to use me for what I know, He's going to use me for who I am.


Wait a minute...


That "I am" just got caught in my throat...

Veteran's Day, Birthdays, Tribes and Other Mental Vomitus

The ever-shortening weekends leave me ragged. 
    
Not enough time to get done what always presses to be done, I find myself longing for the workweek, so I can ignore domestic chores again, calling it "for the benefit of my sanity".
 
It's a vicious cycle, one that I'm choosing to ignore.  There are far more pressing items to contend with, such as a brain that won't shut down; thoughts that can't be organized.

So excuse my rambling thoughts, as there is absolutely no cognitive order to any of it.  I need to process it all, and this place is how I do that.

______________________________________

Realizing as my husband walked out the door that today's his birthday, I was overcome with guilt that I didn't plan anything in advance.  I am usually the one in the family who makes a big deal out of birthdays. 
I prayed a quick prayer, that God would show me what to do, special, for my hubby, while I writhed in my busy-ness.
I was not really expecting a response, but I definitely got one.

"Don't use your relationship with Me as an excuse not to think."

Uhhhh...crap. 
That does not help. 

At all.

______________________________________


Today is also Veteran's Day. 
A day of reflection for me, one near and dear to my heart. 
I find my small-ness in this day, not a product of, or a result of, but rather a tiny cog in the mighty military machine of this country.  Twelve years of my life given to this country, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

It isn't for the experiences, it isn't for the mission that I ache with remembrance.

It's the people. 

Some of the most amazing people I've known in this lifetime served alongside of me. 

Others served before me, setting the stage for legacy upon legacy of national service and dedication that could only come from the generations before.

It's the closest my 'pre-Jesus' life offered of community, outside of family.  (Yet in a dysfunctional family kind of way.)

So this weekend, when we learned of the unexpected passing of one of the guys we turned wrenches with, the strangest thing happened. 
My heart kind of broke.  We weren't close, but plenty were.  He was an AWESOME person.  One of the funniest people I've worked with, and made a sometimes really hard job not so bad.

He's not the only one, there have been others. 
Zooming out from the perspective of my life, and those in my sphere of influence, the grand-ness of the day presses in. 

I am not an attention person, so the discomfort that comes from all the recognition on Veteran's Day is unsettling to me.

Especially when there are others who have given so very much more.

Thank you doesn't seem big enough, appropriate enough.  But this humbled and thankful heart says it anyways. 

________________________________________

The trendy word going around in the discipleship circles is "Tribe".

At first I scoffed at the choice of such an odd word.
But the more I looked at the group of families we've been planted in the middle of, I'm finding that the word just fits.

One of my girlfriends and I discussed it on the way home from a retreat last weekend; a conversation that dominated the majority of the three-hour trip.

How each of us, (speaking for the girls) have something to offer someone else. 

(I'm sure it goes the same for the guys, but we laughed about how they didn't have a clue about these things the girls pondered over.  Fast forward a week, and a cold-morning conversation with my hubby over coffee and cigarettes on the deck totally proved me wrong.)

Every single one of us is in different stages of our lives.  Yet we stand together in a bond we can't fully understand yet.

We support each other, no matter what form that support comes in.
     Sometimes it's in the form of a collective prop, holding one another up in the hard times.
          **Believe me, there are hard times.  This is Life. There are always hard times.**
     Sometimes it's in the form of a listening ear, and hands that are opening the beer or the bottle of wine.
     Sometimes its coffee on the porch, Halloween candy, and a fire pit. 
     It's been words of encouragement for steps taken towards callings, and it' been the grass-cutting fairy.  The dog sitters, the girls' nights, the (attempted) monthly dinners, the help while one is away.
     Sometimes it's the prayers for understanding, other times it's the prayers for peace, for clarity, for perspective. 

There is the grace to realize we are all very different people, and the love to know that who each other is.. is okay. Right where we are.

Community. 

The bigness of the term seems too large to grasp sometimes.  But that's when God shows me I'm sitting right in the middle of it, almost wherever I am.

I see it in my military family.
I see it in my church family, small and large.
I'm starting to see it at my work.

And again, instead of seeing my "role" in all of it, I'm seeing the tiny cog that I am. 


This mighty machine of dead bones with regenerated flesh, with renewed breath in its lungs.

Sandspurs

I'm sitting in an uncomfortable place.
     (Nothing profound here, I'm literally sitting on the uneven stone cap of a century- and-a-half old civil war fort.)

My discomfort keeps me switching positions,  shifting my weight.

It's not til I pull one foot up underneath my other leg that I see the bottom of my shoe.
    
These things have been collecting on the soles of my shoes, and very 'princess and the pea', I see why my feet were starting to ache.

In between the traction-grabbing grippy knobs (like I need those), is a whole mess of sandspurs.

Not making the immediate connection between their name & why they're stuck to my shoes, I reach down & try to brush them away.

 

Once the flash flood of profanity subsided,  I thought I might be in trouble.

 

This was going to take some time.  

Very gingerly, one by one,  I have to s-l-o-w-l-y remove them.  The tiny needles have pierced the soles, & I brought nothing with me that would make the job easier.  Excision with my fingertips has become an exercise in surgical precision.

 

As I pluck away,  I try not to focus on the pain.   I let my mind wander.

 

     Why in the world do sandspurs show up in the places we like to escape to?  The little buggers pretty much go unnoticed in our relaxation,  until we go off the beaten path.  It only takes once.

     How long have these things been in here??

     Had I not say down here,  would I have seen them?

 

Had I not done something different,  I never would have seen the amount of junk  accumulating while on my afternoon walk.

 

They're everywhere!!

 

As I finish with the soles,  my eye catches one on the side of my shoe.

      There's another.
          

           And another!

They're intertwined in my shoelaces; they're clinging to my pant legs.

They're hiding INSIDE my pant legs, poking my skin; wrapped up in my socks.

 

How does that even happen??

 

Thoroughly miffed now, invisible needles stuck in my raw fingers, I am totally distracted from my prayer time.

 

I stand,  go to brush myself off.  My eyes grow wide as I realize that I've been sitting in a whole pile of the damn things.

 

Ugh.

Wounded

Surrounded by religion.
Hymns, written for another generation who's experience of worship looks nothing like mine, do nothing but quell the desire for the familiar in a strange place.
Liturgy that unites our voices, but leaves me feeling like the last kid picked for kickball.
A schedule that frustrates the hell out of me, because by the time I realize God's up to something, the moment is ushered away by our 'regularly scheduled programming'.

And it's just like God to do something so outside my scope of thinking:  He shows up anyway.

Like two men traveling down a road one third day, God shows up in their midst.

And they miss it.

You see, I am a blockhead.  Plagued by intellect and a stubborn pride, how often have I missed God in my midst.

I knew he was here when we worshipped; the unity of our voices would have drowned out a choir of angels, could have lifted the roof and let heaven pour in.  My chest began to quiver as I realized He was here.

Across the room, another voice recognizes Him.

I felt the weight of holiness, and froze in awe.

Everything in me wanted time to stop.  I was afraid to move, afraid to open my eyes, lest the invisible clock keep ticking.

Yet the schedule drove on, and the sound of the ticking clock was the sound of my heart breaking.

          ********************

We don't know what to do with words like "theology", or "discipleship".

We've equated the Christian life to "letting our light shine", grievously mistaking discipleship for witnessing, and the secret code of the churched - "God is good...all the time", "Thanks be to God", and prayers prayed in King James English.

I just might puke if I hear it one more time.

We look at the life of Jesus as an example to follow, a hero to emulate.

We think we've got the Ten Commandments down pat, and wonder why the the concept of grace seems so incredibly...ungraspable.

It's no wonder we've got a powerless church.

Sure, it looks like we can walk on water, but in actuality, the sea of our faith is merely a mud puddle; sticky, dirty, and making a mess.

           ********************

We build intricate, ornate, bigger and better and architecturally splendid buildings, so we can worship a God we can't understand on the surface of our lives.  Like He's an accessory, the shoes all the cool kids are wearing.

We'll address the budget, we'll address traditions.  We'll even admit that, quite possibly, the God we don't understand may or may have something to do with the job we're doing well at, or the health and success of our children.

But we fail to address the Wound.

The Wound is eons old, as old as time is to us.
It leaves no scar, but penetrates deeper than we can comprehend.
It's been so long since we've felt the freshness of the pain inflicted by the Wound in the beginning, all that remains is an ache...
     an ache of longing for restoration.

It's the Wound that steals our identity.
It's the Wound that drives our lives, the Wound we don't know we hide: who we REALLY are.
The wound goes so deep, so far back, that it wrecks us the moment we encounter holiness.  Our shame cripples us, and just like in the garden, we hide.

It's the wound that keeps us seeking; driving us to places we think will address the ache.
When the ache isn't soothed, when our eyes aren't opened to the Truth of WHY, when we're deceived and mis-taught,  this leaves us with rooms full of women who claim to be walking with Jesus, yet weep mainly because they don't know their identity.

Now we have churches full of people, here to get their weekly band-aid for the scab that life, so cruelly and yet appropriately, yanks off; wondering why it's not healing.

We have therapy rooms, doctor's offices, small groups and churches full of people who can't seem to get to the bottom of the issues in their lives, don't even know it's possible.
Who can't find peace.

It might, just might, have something to do with the spiritual atmosphere of today.  Our desire to grow outward, leaves us starving in the deeps.  The religious atmosphere of the day has the spiritual depth of a bologna sandwich.  And I say a bologna sandwich, because at one point in time, the pig had breath in it's lungs.


Life is more than skin deep.
     Love is more than skin deep.
          God is... so... much... more... than skin deep.


Rip the scab off, and do it quick.  The pain fades faster.
Poke at the wound.
Pick at the edges, see how deep it goes.
Examine the extent of the damage.

Where did the wound come from?

And more importantly, why aren't we asking this question??