I try to hide in my seclusion, frustrated by every little interruption outside of my precious schedule.
The quiet never stays long enough, but always when I don't want it to.
Tasks of the day pushed off, excuses made, justifications laid out, by and to myself.
I force myself into my own prison, where I am my own captor; the walls being this body, this personality, this discipline I'm fighting. There's only one window letting in light, and I'm shying away from it as much as I can.
The light reaches me anyway, no matter where I hide.
Contact from the outside sparks instant battle; I fight what I know to be True for the sake of who I think I am. Shots are fired, and hits are taken instantaneously. It is pride who yields my sword, trying so valiantly to protect my prison cell, and isn't going down without a fight.
Decisions are made to either participate in what it is I'm called to share, or retreat from it... and my own hypocrisy physically pains me...
Words come rushing in, words I thought I knew, but this new clarity literally humiliates me...
Accountability... and all that means; opening up all of me, strengths and weaknesses...
Community... being available... building up someone... beneficial... importance of understanding individual relationships... the responsibility that comes with that freedom, for myself and others...
I'm haunted by my recent failings; a prisoner sentenced to, and already living in, death.
The agony doesn't come from the crucifixion itself, the agony comes in the acceptance of the sentence; a sentence, if I would just shut up and listen for once, I'd see doesn't lead to the death I think it does.
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Monday, July 7, 2014
Brutal Pruning
I massacred one of the bushes in front of my house today.
Hacked it all to pieces.
It was here when we moved in, already overgrown; blocking the guest room window, and all-too-inviting for the Virginia creeper that uses it to gain its stronghold over the siding on the house.
I started with the giant scissor-looking-things, just to get the leaves out of the way, so I could see and assess what I was going to be dealing with.
The small branches were no match against the force of my sharpened blades and determined shoulders. By the time I got the leaves and small branches cut off, determined to make this stupid bush look like the others, I was a sweating hot mess, panting like a monster, and no longer able to raise my arms. The branches that remained were taller than me, and thicker than what my suddenly-burdensome tool could handle.
I contemplated just grabbing the chainsaw and cutting the whole damn thing down, but all the plants working together to express my yard would definitely miss it. It would leave a gaping, unfillable hole.
The trick wasn't more power, but more finesse. I needed the right tool, and that was going to be one that would cut through the thick branches one-by-one, individually. Judging by the burning in my shoulders, I knew I'd have to change my pace as well, because if I used the hand-held pruners with the same fervency as I had the scissors/trimmers, I'd be setting myself up for a crippling hand cramp injury.
I slowly cut away a few of the tall, thick, spindly branches.
That's when I saw the bird nest.
Dammit.
Was there anything in it, or was this just evidence of previous life?
I didn't want to disturb it right away; I can't, in good conscience, destroy some thing's home. (Unless I know it's not being used. Then it's fair game.)
I cut away all the branches around the nest, leaving this ridiculous cropping of nest-embedded branches. I'll deal with the nest later.
(At first, I thought it looked like crap, like a tiny green umbrella over a giant knot of branches.)
I think if I was able to cut that section off, people could look at my hack-job and realize what I was trying to accomplish.
Bare, twisted, lopped-off branches now, but as the season progressed, it would be filled in by new growth. Tender, but fuller, healthier.
Anyone who's ever dealt with an overgrown shrub, (I think it's a Camellia?) knows this is bound to happen; this hard pruning that seems to destroy, but really shapes into something more desirable.
That was my goal when I started; to shape this overgrown shrub into something better, healthier.
Now that I look at how strange it looks, all misshapen, lopsided, I'm kind of diggin' the weirdness of the whole thing.
Maybe I'll leave it for a few days, and figure out what to do about this nest...
(I re-read all this and laugh...I realize and remember it's not the first time God used a bush to speak to someone...)
Hacked it all to pieces.
It was here when we moved in, already overgrown; blocking the guest room window, and all-too-inviting for the Virginia creeper that uses it to gain its stronghold over the siding on the house.
I started with the giant scissor-looking-things, just to get the leaves out of the way, so I could see and assess what I was going to be dealing with.
The small branches were no match against the force of my sharpened blades and determined shoulders. By the time I got the leaves and small branches cut off, determined to make this stupid bush look like the others, I was a sweating hot mess, panting like a monster, and no longer able to raise my arms. The branches that remained were taller than me, and thicker than what my suddenly-burdensome tool could handle.
I contemplated just grabbing the chainsaw and cutting the whole damn thing down, but all the plants working together to express my yard would definitely miss it. It would leave a gaping, unfillable hole.
The trick wasn't more power, but more finesse. I needed the right tool, and that was going to be one that would cut through the thick branches one-by-one, individually. Judging by the burning in my shoulders, I knew I'd have to change my pace as well, because if I used the hand-held pruners with the same fervency as I had the scissors/trimmers, I'd be setting myself up for a crippling hand cramp injury.
I slowly cut away a few of the tall, thick, spindly branches.
That's when I saw the bird nest.
Dammit.
Was there anything in it, or was this just evidence of previous life?
I didn't want to disturb it right away; I can't, in good conscience, destroy some thing's home. (Unless I know it's not being used. Then it's fair game.)
I cut away all the branches around the nest, leaving this ridiculous cropping of nest-embedded branches. I'll deal with the nest later.
(At first, I thought it looked like crap, like a tiny green umbrella over a giant knot of branches.)
I think if I was able to cut that section off, people could look at my hack-job and realize what I was trying to accomplish.
Bare, twisted, lopped-off branches now, but as the season progressed, it would be filled in by new growth. Tender, but fuller, healthier.
Anyone who's ever dealt with an overgrown shrub, (I think it's a Camellia?) knows this is bound to happen; this hard pruning that seems to destroy, but really shapes into something more desirable.
That was my goal when I started; to shape this overgrown shrub into something better, healthier.
Now that I look at how strange it looks, all misshapen, lopsided, I'm kind of diggin' the weirdness of the whole thing.
Maybe I'll leave it for a few days, and figure out what to do about this nest...
(I re-read all this and laugh...I realize and remember it's not the first time God used a bush to speak to someone...)
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Grey Rolling Away
The grey clouds are slowly rolling away; breaking apart, being burned up by the morning sun.
It looks like it's turning out to be a beautiful day.
Something about that is unsettling for a minute; like everything's going to be okay, but I know I'm not okay with it just yet. Waiting for God to reveal to me more about the storms that have come and go; pondering how I hear him most in the conflicts, even if it is just Him telling me to shut up.
Contemplating the dynamics of family and community; the threads of understanding, humility, and grace that tie both together, despite the seemingly vast chasm between.
And how everything horrible that is felt and thought in reaction to those connections is continuously redeemed by one, always unexpectedly.
Finding my place among the saints and sinners, and being okay with that; weary from trying to fit in with those who I am not like.
Finding my peace with who I am, much to the chagrin of those who wish to change me.
Learning to embrace the tie that binds, the unifying heart that beats inside all of us, whether we are aware of it or not; binding peace to war, kind to ruthless, light to dark, ignorance to awareness.
Becoming aware of my distraught comfort in the grey, because of the Truth of my connection to divinity, not my 'feelings' on connection to divinity.
Embracing new awareness of my sick enjoyment of the unknown, because of my dependence on the one who wrote the story, His story. Knowing I'm involved in the story, not that the story is about me.
Prayers of "what's next" breathed in unrecognized exasperation turn into thankful praise as the clarity of understanding comes in mere lightning flashes of understanding.
The peace that I pray for has nothing to do with who fills my home, or who doesn't; who I'm connected to or not.
It has everything to do with why.
It looks like it's turning out to be a beautiful day.
Something about that is unsettling for a minute; like everything's going to be okay, but I know I'm not okay with it just yet. Waiting for God to reveal to me more about the storms that have come and go; pondering how I hear him most in the conflicts, even if it is just Him telling me to shut up.
Contemplating the dynamics of family and community; the threads of understanding, humility, and grace that tie both together, despite the seemingly vast chasm between.
And how everything horrible that is felt and thought in reaction to those connections is continuously redeemed by one, always unexpectedly.
Finding my place among the saints and sinners, and being okay with that; weary from trying to fit in with those who I am not like.
Finding my peace with who I am, much to the chagrin of those who wish to change me.
Learning to embrace the tie that binds, the unifying heart that beats inside all of us, whether we are aware of it or not; binding peace to war, kind to ruthless, light to dark, ignorance to awareness.
Becoming aware of my distraught comfort in the grey, because of the Truth of my connection to divinity, not my 'feelings' on connection to divinity.
Embracing new awareness of my sick enjoyment of the unknown, because of my dependence on the one who wrote the story, His story. Knowing I'm involved in the story, not that the story is about me.
Prayers of "what's next" breathed in unrecognized exasperation turn into thankful praise as the clarity of understanding comes in mere lightning flashes of understanding.
The peace that I pray for has nothing to do with who fills my home, or who doesn't; who I'm connected to or not.
It has everything to do with why.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Rude awakenings
There is not very much that I loathe more than waking up to the eye-burning, nostril-searing, and choking assault that is dogshit.
In the last few days, one of our three dogs hasn't felt well.
It only took a couple of hours to figure out which one was leaving their evidence of gastrointestinal distress.
Great. It's the big one.
Why couldn't it be the small one? Or even the medium dog?
Oh wait- nevermind. His legs are too short for him to actually point his nether-region "downward". Historically, when the medium dog is ill, his evidence leaves a trail; covering the floor, the baseboard, and four inches up the wall above the baseboard. And, oh, by the way, it stains.
Everything.
It's kind of ironic really, that the big dog is sick, since we're dealing with some health scares with some friends.
One is having a barrage of tests done today to find out what's wrong with his throat, while another friend is sitting in the intensive care unit, waiting on a heart catheterization to investigate possible blockages.
Everyone's operating in a new level of worry; all of a sudden, aware of the health we all take for granted. Just like the dog with the squirts, we all know something isn't right.
It's interesting how we live, oblivious to how the 'what we do now' could affect our future; whether it's the near future, or far off.
But when the reminder of our own mortality shows up, suddenly we're painfully aware of what we've done wrong, or what we've done right. It is then that fear grips us.
If the fear of death had a smell, it would smell like dogshit.
Once it's there, no matter how hard you scrub, the stench doesn't leave right away. It lingers. You have to fight to get rid of it. All the candles in the world can't make the smell disappear. The only thing that works is a cross breeze, a little patience, and time.
A gas mask wouldn't hurt, either...
In the last few days, one of our three dogs hasn't felt well.
It only took a couple of hours to figure out which one was leaving their evidence of gastrointestinal distress.
Great. It's the big one.
Why couldn't it be the small one? Or even the medium dog?
Oh wait- nevermind. His legs are too short for him to actually point his nether-region "downward". Historically, when the medium dog is ill, his evidence leaves a trail; covering the floor, the baseboard, and four inches up the wall above the baseboard. And, oh, by the way, it stains.
Everything.
It's kind of ironic really, that the big dog is sick, since we're dealing with some health scares with some friends.
One is having a barrage of tests done today to find out what's wrong with his throat, while another friend is sitting in the intensive care unit, waiting on a heart catheterization to investigate possible blockages.
Everyone's operating in a new level of worry; all of a sudden, aware of the health we all take for granted. Just like the dog with the squirts, we all know something isn't right.
It's interesting how we live, oblivious to how the 'what we do now' could affect our future; whether it's the near future, or far off.
But when the reminder of our own mortality shows up, suddenly we're painfully aware of what we've done wrong, or what we've done right. It is then that fear grips us.
If the fear of death had a smell, it would smell like dogshit.
Once it's there, no matter how hard you scrub, the stench doesn't leave right away. It lingers. You have to fight to get rid of it. All the candles in the world can't make the smell disappear. The only thing that works is a cross breeze, a little patience, and time.
A gas mask wouldn't hurt, either...
Thursday, June 19, 2014
Where do we go from here?
Change is inevitable, because as we all know, or claim to know, the only thing that doesn't change is who God is. (Notice I didn't say, 'what God does'...)
We have to expect change. We're foolish if we don't.
Just as Moses didn't bring the Law down from the mountain and live forever to see it walked out; just like Abraham only lived long enough to see God's promise to him lived out; just like Joseph who lived long enough to walk in his purposes, none of the forefathers of our faith remained in the same place that they started.
Jesus didn't tell his disciples to "stay where we first met, build a building, stay there, and fight against everything different that I throw your way"...
No, Jesus told them that they ARE the church, wherever they went!
He told them to follow Him.
When someone uses the word "follow", it's pretty much implied that there's some sort of movement involved.
That tells me, especially in this geographic area, where one of the largest military installations in the east coast is at our back door, that we need to keep following God, because He's always moving.
Maybe our focus as a church has been wrong - we think (arrogantly) that our job is to minister to people in the military who are stationed here.
What if we got it all wrong??
What if we're to use the world system we've been placed smack dab in the middle of to our advantage, or even as an example?
For those who are unfamiliar with the military lifestyle, it's completely mission-focused. Training, learning, moving, outreach, moving on... Very similar to the church.
The end results may be drastically different compared to the church, but what if we followed the model that almost surrounds us?
I'll compare some of the processes for those who don't know anything about the military.
-Someone makes a decision to join the military.
-Someone makes the decision to follow Christ.
-That person leaves their home, their familiarity, and goes to basic training.
-A new believer starts pursuing God, going to church, in whatever form that takes.
- In basic training, the trainee's identity changes as they learn the basic skills needed in order to perform the task they signed up to do, all while surrounded by others who have made the same decisions.
- The new believer begins to learn and understand who God is, and who they are in Christ, strengthened and supported by the community of believers around them.
- The soldier then moves on to whichever base he's been assigned to. He'll be trained further there, more specifically for the mission he's to perform. If he's a medic, he'll be trained how to be a medic. If he's an infantryman, he'll learn how to be an infantryman. The process is the same, whether he's to be a sniper, a medic, infantry, airborne, or clerical.
- It's the same for believers. We find the group of people who are equipped to train us for who it is we're called to be (not DO). We'll be discipled by those who've been called to train us, to disciple us. The missionary will be drawn to those who lead a missionary lifestyle; intercessors will be drawn to those who share the same passions, as well as vision casters, servants, teachers, etc.
- While the soldier is at his base, he is continuously ready for deployment; in a constant state of readiness. After all, the call to "go" could come at any moment...
- While we're being discipled, we're learning to always be available for God to move wherever we're at. We're learning how to live, we're growing spiritually, always ready for God to move us on to our mission. After all, the word from God to "go" could come at any moment...
- The deployment order comes down, time to roll. Training and efficiency kick in, and it's time to fully step into the mission the soldier has been trained for.
- God says "go"; whether it's a job change; a move into a new city, town or neighborhood; a change in our life circumstances; or new relationships, this is where we get to share our love with others, and expose them to the grander perspective offered by the God we serve.
For both the soldier and the follower of Christ, the mission may seem to be accomplished. But as we see so much today, the mission is never really fully accomplished. At least not in our lifetime...
Just like Abraham, just like Moses, just like Jesus' disciples.
Keep all that in mind, because I'm fixin' to switch gears.
In the context of our lives, what is the one thing we can't ever get more of?
TIME.
Even the military example I just laid out is very dependent on time.
Time for training, time for preparedness, time for mission, time for moving, and time for rest/recovery.
I recently read a brilliant article that broke down Jesus' life into increments of time; distinguished by the activity that filled that time.
Jesus lived about 33 years.
He spent about 30 of those years being with people. Living life.
He spent about 3 years working with people. Training, discipling, modeling, sending...
And the spent 1 week working for humanity, doing something we couldn't do ourselves: our redemption.
Jesus spent approximately one-tenth of his life doing Kingdom stuff. What was the other 90% of his time consumed by?
Being with people. Living with them. Learning their stories, learning their culture, learning and performing a skilled trade, eating with people.
In our military example, we've seen the increments of time spent on "military" stuff. But in the grand scheme of a lifetime, 10 - 15% of their time is spent doing the mission itself.
So what fills the rest of that time?
LIFE.
Marriage, children, hobbies, food, friends, errands, school, etc.
If you'll notice, that's what Jesus spent most of his life doing. He learned how to be a man, he learned the culture of the day in which he lived, he ate meals with his family and neighbors, he learned how to be a carpenter. Now, Jesus knew he wasn't going to "grow up and be a carpenter", but he did it, because that's what his father, Joseph did; and that's what the culture expected.
Jesus also knew who he was really going to be when he grew up. He loved, and he gave, and he forgave, because that's what his heavenly father did.
So, church, what do we do with that?
Do you think Jesus would have been as effective and influential in his ministry years, his "doing" years, if he hadn't spent so much time being with the people he ministered to; if he didn't know what it was like to experience life with these people?
Do we honestly think that Jesus would've been able to change people's lives from the old way to the new way, if he didn't know the old way?
(I know what you're thinking... the argument comes up that Jesus is God, so he knew, yada yada yada. Yes, and I'll throw this at you. Could Jesus teach us, model for us, how to be human, if he didn't fully experience life as a human? Every part of life. Birth, childhood, teen years, young adulthood, knowing your death is imminent, and even death.)
We're so quick to "follow Jesus' example", or "do what Jesus did", that we never quite get the full picture of his life. We equate his "life" to his "ministry", as if God just dropped him from heaven onto Earth, with no history, no background, and no intimate knowledge of the culture around him.
If we focus too much on doing, doing, doing, we're missing out on what I think is the most beautiful part of Jesus' time on earth.
Living Life.
We, as the church, focus all our time, energy, and resources on doing Kingdom work. If we don't pay attention to the time that Jesus spent being with people, (not to mention the time spent learning how to be himself - at that time, fully human) then we're missing out on life itself!
Did you catch that?
Life teaches us how to be ourselves.
By living life with Jesus, the disciples learned who they were, themselves. They learned how who they were fit into this new thing God was doing, this "way" that Jesus was teaching them.
And they did it together, not just one-on-one with their teacher. Just like when we were in school, class is in session, and whoever was in your class, you were stuck with.
If you look at the disciples, they were a ragtag bunch of guys, all from different careers, different backgrounds, and different esteems in society; brought together for God's purposes.
(Sounds kinda like church, doesn't it?)
I'm sure there were disagreements between them, in fact, the argument as to who is greater among them in front of Jesus (Matthew 20:20-27) was probably a tame one. Chronologically, that argument didn't happen early in "the ministry years". Our human-ness keeps shining through, doesn't it...
Just as Jesus corrected their way of thinking that brought about the argument, grace allows us to have our disagreements, yet still treat one another respectfully, with dignity; allowing us the time together to understand why each other feels the way they do, and the space for each of us to process that understanding.
Humility gives us the strength to communicate with one another; communication being the basis for understanding one another, not just to make sure "our" side of the discussion is made known.
I'll give an example.
A couple of months ago at a Wednesday night meeting, the topic of worship was brought up when the announcement was made that the worship band was leaving. It was surprising news, yes, but just as with any unexpected change, the atmosphere tensed as people fought to hold on to what they knew.
It became apparent in this meeting, the people weren't trying to hold on to the vehicle that delivered the music, they were trying to hold on the "how" of their worship.
We ended up going around the table, each person explaining how they worship, and what it is about the way they worship that moves them. For some, it's the words that demonstrate the intensity and immensity of God, and for others, it's the fast and upbeat rhythms that bring hope to lives that are struggling.
Now that we knew this about one another, it should be easier to sit through a worship service with all kinds of worship music, because we know that we are involved in something that is based off our mutual admiration of God.
I would think that now, based off this newly acquired information, that we could worship God through something that we normally wouldn't worship to, because (through communication with our brothers and sisters) now we know why each particular style of music is appreciated by each person. And that moves me, knowing that God has drawn us together.
If we don't take the time to learn this about our brothers and sisters, we'll never know.
Besides, if worship is all about how I worship, or what I want in a worship service, then it's not God I'm worshiping; it's me.
How do we learn these things about one another?
By doing what Jesus spent the biggest portion of his life doing: spending time with people.
He learned the culture of the world around him.
He learned the rhythms of the people's lives.
He built relationships.
Spend time together. Share your lives. Tell one another your stories, so you can understand one another, so you know what makes each other happy, scared, or hurt. Encourage one another in your dreams, your goals, and your daily lives. Make yourselves available for one another, and be there for each other in your struggles... we all have them.
By doing these things, we'll be living in the community that God has called us to be, not just another congregation on Sunday morning.
It's when we're together that we're the strongest. When we're together, we're learning; about each other, more about how to be together, and we learn more about ourselves.
I'll tell you a story.
My husband and I have had the pleasure of opening our home to people who've needed a place to stay for almost the entire time we've been married. Friends and family going through divorces; young adults we worked with in the military who were transitioning from life under their parents' roof, to dorm life, then on to life out on their own.
Earlier this spring, we had the opportunity to have a friend's teenage daughter move in with us for a short time.
She was dealing with what most people would think was an unbelievable amount of life's garbage: divorce; the first year in high school & the drama that goes along with it; societal pressures from every angle to look a certain way, dress a certain way, act a certain way; talk a certain way; and think (or not think) a certain way.
(I don't know if I could hack it as a teenager today. There's an incredible about of work that goes into trying to just be left alone & not get caught up in the drama people create.)
While all this is bombarding her, there's this little voice inside her telling her to just be herself.
(There's an intimacy that develops when people live together, without trying to force our own agendas on one another. When the goal is mutual understanding, in an environment that gives us the freedom to be ourselves, that's when our lives lived together becomes the teacher, where every person we interact with is the vessel used to drive home the lesson.)
This young lady was able to witness my faith and my life very intimately. Not by structured bible studies, or carefully planned sermons, but through our daily conversations where we'd open up to one another about our struggles, or the things that we each dealt with, and sharing how we handled them.
She saw my ugly; believe me. But she also saw me seeking God in every situation, and she saw my reactions to what God was doing. (Sometimes looking like obedience, other times looking like a ravaging battle, hence my "ugly")
She saw my interactions with people who frustrate me, and because she felt safe enough to ask questions, she then learned how I love others.
She has learned more of her worth; not because of how she looks, or what she does or says, but because she is exactly who she was created to be, and that she is loved by God & lots of other people for who she is today, and the amazing woman she will be in the future.
When this young woman moved in, my only goal was to develop a strong relationship with her.
By developing this relationship, we learned each other's standards and expectations. Because of our relationship, she knew she needed to clean her room, so I didn't need to establish a set of rules for her to follow. The mutual respect in our relationship, & the love we have for one another is what dictated our actions for and toward one another.
Because I know her, I know that she dislikes touching dirty dishes. So I don't make her do anything with dirty dishes. Because she sees me doing all the dirty dishes, she gladly puts them all away when they're clean, so I don't have to. (Seems trivial, but it's those little things that add depth to a relationship.)
Relationship before rules.
Live your lives together, focusing on your relationships with one another. It's a complete mindset change, but put one another first - which means that we'll have to step into that "faith" thing, letting God take care of us, as we remove ourselves from the center of our own lives.
We have to expect change. We're foolish if we don't.
Just as Moses didn't bring the Law down from the mountain and live forever to see it walked out; just like Abraham only lived long enough to see God's promise to him lived out; just like Joseph who lived long enough to walk in his purposes, none of the forefathers of our faith remained in the same place that they started.
Jesus didn't tell his disciples to "stay where we first met, build a building, stay there, and fight against everything different that I throw your way"...
No, Jesus told them that they ARE the church, wherever they went!
He told them to follow Him.
When someone uses the word "follow", it's pretty much implied that there's some sort of movement involved.
That tells me, especially in this geographic area, where one of the largest military installations in the east coast is at our back door, that we need to keep following God, because He's always moving.
Maybe our focus as a church has been wrong - we think (arrogantly) that our job is to minister to people in the military who are stationed here.
What if we got it all wrong??
What if we're to use the world system we've been placed smack dab in the middle of to our advantage, or even as an example?
For those who are unfamiliar with the military lifestyle, it's completely mission-focused. Training, learning, moving, outreach, moving on... Very similar to the church.
The end results may be drastically different compared to the church, but what if we followed the model that almost surrounds us?
I'll compare some of the processes for those who don't know anything about the military.
-Someone makes a decision to join the military.
-Someone makes the decision to follow Christ.
-That person leaves their home, their familiarity, and goes to basic training.
-A new believer starts pursuing God, going to church, in whatever form that takes.
- In basic training, the trainee's identity changes as they learn the basic skills needed in order to perform the task they signed up to do, all while surrounded by others who have made the same decisions.
- The new believer begins to learn and understand who God is, and who they are in Christ, strengthened and supported by the community of believers around them.
- The soldier then moves on to whichever base he's been assigned to. He'll be trained further there, more specifically for the mission he's to perform. If he's a medic, he'll be trained how to be a medic. If he's an infantryman, he'll learn how to be an infantryman. The process is the same, whether he's to be a sniper, a medic, infantry, airborne, or clerical.
- It's the same for believers. We find the group of people who are equipped to train us for who it is we're called to be (not DO). We'll be discipled by those who've been called to train us, to disciple us. The missionary will be drawn to those who lead a missionary lifestyle; intercessors will be drawn to those who share the same passions, as well as vision casters, servants, teachers, etc.
- While the soldier is at his base, he is continuously ready for deployment; in a constant state of readiness. After all, the call to "go" could come at any moment...
- While we're being discipled, we're learning to always be available for God to move wherever we're at. We're learning how to live, we're growing spiritually, always ready for God to move us on to our mission. After all, the word from God to "go" could come at any moment...
- The deployment order comes down, time to roll. Training and efficiency kick in, and it's time to fully step into the mission the soldier has been trained for.
- God says "go"; whether it's a job change; a move into a new city, town or neighborhood; a change in our life circumstances; or new relationships, this is where we get to share our love with others, and expose them to the grander perspective offered by the God we serve.
For both the soldier and the follower of Christ, the mission may seem to be accomplished. But as we see so much today, the mission is never really fully accomplished. At least not in our lifetime...
Just like Abraham, just like Moses, just like Jesus' disciples.
Keep all that in mind, because I'm fixin' to switch gears.
In the context of our lives, what is the one thing we can't ever get more of?
TIME.
Even the military example I just laid out is very dependent on time.
Time for training, time for preparedness, time for mission, time for moving, and time for rest/recovery.
I recently read a brilliant article that broke down Jesus' life into increments of time; distinguished by the activity that filled that time.
Jesus lived about 33 years.
He spent about 30 of those years being with people. Living life.
He spent about 3 years working with people. Training, discipling, modeling, sending...
And the spent 1 week working for humanity, doing something we couldn't do ourselves: our redemption.
Jesus spent approximately one-tenth of his life doing Kingdom stuff. What was the other 90% of his time consumed by?
Being with people. Living with them. Learning their stories, learning their culture, learning and performing a skilled trade, eating with people.
In our military example, we've seen the increments of time spent on "military" stuff. But in the grand scheme of a lifetime, 10 - 15% of their time is spent doing the mission itself.
So what fills the rest of that time?
LIFE.
Marriage, children, hobbies, food, friends, errands, school, etc.
If you'll notice, that's what Jesus spent most of his life doing. He learned how to be a man, he learned the culture of the day in which he lived, he ate meals with his family and neighbors, he learned how to be a carpenter. Now, Jesus knew he wasn't going to "grow up and be a carpenter", but he did it, because that's what his father, Joseph did; and that's what the culture expected.
Jesus also knew who he was really going to be when he grew up. He loved, and he gave, and he forgave, because that's what his heavenly father did.
So, church, what do we do with that?
Do you think Jesus would have been as effective and influential in his ministry years, his "doing" years, if he hadn't spent so much time being with the people he ministered to; if he didn't know what it was like to experience life with these people?
Do we honestly think that Jesus would've been able to change people's lives from the old way to the new way, if he didn't know the old way?
(I know what you're thinking... the argument comes up that Jesus is God, so he knew, yada yada yada. Yes, and I'll throw this at you. Could Jesus teach us, model for us, how to be human, if he didn't fully experience life as a human? Every part of life. Birth, childhood, teen years, young adulthood, knowing your death is imminent, and even death.)
We're so quick to "follow Jesus' example", or "do what Jesus did", that we never quite get the full picture of his life. We equate his "life" to his "ministry", as if God just dropped him from heaven onto Earth, with no history, no background, and no intimate knowledge of the culture around him.
If we focus too much on doing, doing, doing, we're missing out on what I think is the most beautiful part of Jesus' time on earth.
Living Life.
We, as the church, focus all our time, energy, and resources on doing Kingdom work. If we don't pay attention to the time that Jesus spent being with people, (not to mention the time spent learning how to be himself - at that time, fully human) then we're missing out on life itself!
Did you catch that?
Life teaches us how to be ourselves.
By living life with Jesus, the disciples learned who they were, themselves. They learned how who they were fit into this new thing God was doing, this "way" that Jesus was teaching them.
And they did it together, not just one-on-one with their teacher. Just like when we were in school, class is in session, and whoever was in your class, you were stuck with.
If you look at the disciples, they were a ragtag bunch of guys, all from different careers, different backgrounds, and different esteems in society; brought together for God's purposes.
(Sounds kinda like church, doesn't it?)
I'm sure there were disagreements between them, in fact, the argument as to who is greater among them in front of Jesus (Matthew 20:20-27) was probably a tame one. Chronologically, that argument didn't happen early in "the ministry years". Our human-ness keeps shining through, doesn't it...
Just as Jesus corrected their way of thinking that brought about the argument, grace allows us to have our disagreements, yet still treat one another respectfully, with dignity; allowing us the time together to understand why each other feels the way they do, and the space for each of us to process that understanding.
Humility gives us the strength to communicate with one another; communication being the basis for understanding one another, not just to make sure "our" side of the discussion is made known.
I'll give an example.
A couple of months ago at a Wednesday night meeting, the topic of worship was brought up when the announcement was made that the worship band was leaving. It was surprising news, yes, but just as with any unexpected change, the atmosphere tensed as people fought to hold on to what they knew.
It became apparent in this meeting, the people weren't trying to hold on to the vehicle that delivered the music, they were trying to hold on the "how" of their worship.
We ended up going around the table, each person explaining how they worship, and what it is about the way they worship that moves them. For some, it's the words that demonstrate the intensity and immensity of God, and for others, it's the fast and upbeat rhythms that bring hope to lives that are struggling.
Now that we knew this about one another, it should be easier to sit through a worship service with all kinds of worship music, because we know that we are involved in something that is based off our mutual admiration of God.
I would think that now, based off this newly acquired information, that we could worship God through something that we normally wouldn't worship to, because (through communication with our brothers and sisters) now we know why each particular style of music is appreciated by each person. And that moves me, knowing that God has drawn us together.
If we don't take the time to learn this about our brothers and sisters, we'll never know.
Besides, if worship is all about how I worship, or what I want in a worship service, then it's not God I'm worshiping; it's me.
How do we learn these things about one another?
By doing what Jesus spent the biggest portion of his life doing: spending time with people.
He learned the culture of the world around him.
He learned the rhythms of the people's lives.
He built relationships.
Spend time together. Share your lives. Tell one another your stories, so you can understand one another, so you know what makes each other happy, scared, or hurt. Encourage one another in your dreams, your goals, and your daily lives. Make yourselves available for one another, and be there for each other in your struggles... we all have them.
By doing these things, we'll be living in the community that God has called us to be, not just another congregation on Sunday morning.
It's when we're together that we're the strongest. When we're together, we're learning; about each other, more about how to be together, and we learn more about ourselves.
I'll tell you a story.
My husband and I have had the pleasure of opening our home to people who've needed a place to stay for almost the entire time we've been married. Friends and family going through divorces; young adults we worked with in the military who were transitioning from life under their parents' roof, to dorm life, then on to life out on their own.
Earlier this spring, we had the opportunity to have a friend's teenage daughter move in with us for a short time.
She was dealing with what most people would think was an unbelievable amount of life's garbage: divorce; the first year in high school & the drama that goes along with it; societal pressures from every angle to look a certain way, dress a certain way, act a certain way; talk a certain way; and think (or not think) a certain way.
(I don't know if I could hack it as a teenager today. There's an incredible about of work that goes into trying to just be left alone & not get caught up in the drama people create.)
While all this is bombarding her, there's this little voice inside her telling her to just be herself.
(There's an intimacy that develops when people live together, without trying to force our own agendas on one another. When the goal is mutual understanding, in an environment that gives us the freedom to be ourselves, that's when our lives lived together becomes the teacher, where every person we interact with is the vessel used to drive home the lesson.)
This young lady was able to witness my faith and my life very intimately. Not by structured bible studies, or carefully planned sermons, but through our daily conversations where we'd open up to one another about our struggles, or the things that we each dealt with, and sharing how we handled them.
She saw my ugly; believe me. But she also saw me seeking God in every situation, and she saw my reactions to what God was doing. (Sometimes looking like obedience, other times looking like a ravaging battle, hence my "ugly")
She saw my interactions with people who frustrate me, and because she felt safe enough to ask questions, she then learned how I love others.
She has learned more of her worth; not because of how she looks, or what she does or says, but because she is exactly who she was created to be, and that she is loved by God & lots of other people for who she is today, and the amazing woman she will be in the future.
When this young woman moved in, my only goal was to develop a strong relationship with her.
By developing this relationship, we learned each other's standards and expectations. Because of our relationship, she knew she needed to clean her room, so I didn't need to establish a set of rules for her to follow. The mutual respect in our relationship, & the love we have for one another is what dictated our actions for and toward one another.
Because I know her, I know that she dislikes touching dirty dishes. So I don't make her do anything with dirty dishes. Because she sees me doing all the dirty dishes, she gladly puts them all away when they're clean, so I don't have to. (Seems trivial, but it's those little things that add depth to a relationship.)
Relationship before rules.
Live your lives together, focusing on your relationships with one another. It's a complete mindset change, but put one another first - which means that we'll have to step into that "faith" thing, letting God take care of us, as we remove ourselves from the center of our own lives.
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Family Redefined
It's Father's Day.
It's so typical to refer to God as Father, and only see Him in that role. I don't want to do that today, because I think it limits our understanding of God.
If we only see God as "father", then we're missing out on all that God is.
We'll miss out on living life in Christ, and we'll miss out on all the ways that God as Holy Spirit moves in our lives.
What better way to honor a father... to uplift and point out the blessing that his family is...
My family tree looks pretty different, compared to most. Mine has knobs, grafts, as well as intensely strong roots, trunk, and branches.
Whenever someone mentions a family tree, the image that comes to mind is more of a grapevine, rather than the typical tall tree.
Look at all the families around us.
Almost everywhere we look, the "typical" family of mother, father, and children isn't as prevalent as it used to be.
We see grandparents raising their grandchildren.
We see single parents raising their children alone.
We see aunt and uncles raising their nieces and / or nephews.
We see foster children, we see adopted children, all being added to our families.
We also see children who enter the fold of someone else's family, due to reasons unforeseen; an addition to a family by safety and love, rather than by blood.
What we think of as "family" is changing.
In Luke 6, in only a few short verses, Jesus redefines family:
Jesus' mother and brothers came to him but were unable to reach him because of the crowd. Someone told him, "Your mother and brothers are standing outside, wanting to see you."
He replied, "My mother and brothers are those who listen to God's word, and do it."
Sure, we call each other "brother" and "sister", because we are. In Christ.
But do we grasp the immensity of what that means?
Does our understanding of "brother" and "sister" only come from our own personal experiences of our blood-siblings and those relationships?
As kids, we played with our siblings.
We learned how to share.
We played tricks on each other, and we'd get each other into trouble.
Older siblings would help care for younger siblings.
We'd stick up for one another.
If each of us was to look at our own families, we could probably see that despite growing up in the same house, with the same parents, with the same rules, we all developed our own differing personalities.
Sometimes extremely different.
But our love for one another looks beyond our different personalities, beyond the surfaces of our lives. It is based on our common history, and cemented by the bond of growing up in the same house.
The family that Jesus spoke of in those few short verses goes much deeper than what we experienced growing up, and this family that we've been adopted into is much much larger than we tend to think about.
Scripture after scripture after scripture tells us that we've been adopted into the family of God.
All of us... brothers and sisters.
From brand new believers, to mentors; those called to be missionaries; those called to preach; those called to be prophets and teachers, those who've been called to serve; to pray; and to love.
Brothers and Sisters.
Our different ages, our different callings, our different personalities, our different strengths and gifts, as well as the different demons that we each battle; all puts us at different places in our relationships... with God, and with each other.
Despite those differences, there is an unexplainable unity we have, through Christ.
We've heard the saying, "We're all born with a God-shaped hole in our lives".
It's been my experience that I don't even fully comprehend how big that God-shaped hole is, because every time I look, God is filling that hole with more and more of Him, but using my brothers and sisters as the evidence.
I'm learning that in order to be complete, I need my Spirit-filled brothers and sisters in my life...
their experiences
their personalities
their encouragement
their presence
- that's what makes us whole.
Kind of like a body... different parts, different functions; all reliant upon one another in order to be whole.
It is this beautiful harmony and dependency; so indicative of family; that somewhat demonstrates the mystery of the Trinity -
separate, but One
different purposes, but for the same goal.
Where else, but this massive family God is building, can we cross cultural lines, and walk side-by-side, arm-in-arm with people who share our faith?
This faith that unites us isn't one that is based on a shared history, as it is with our blood-siblings; this bond we share is focused on a future... one that God Himself has promised each one of us - more of Him.
What does this new family look like?
People.
From all different walks of life, all different ages, all different backgrounds, from all different nations and cultures.
People, who instead of focusing on our differences, (which will only separate us further,) see the light in one another, and treat each other as if that is all we see.
By treating our brothers and sisters in this way, it is then that grace pushes away our judgements; as our stories are shared, and understanding bridges the gaping differences in our lives.
We begin spending our lives together.
Our side-by-side interactions become the tools God uses to refine us, to teach us, and to bind us further to one another, and to Him.
How amazing would it look if we treated our brothers and sisters in God's family with the same love, dignity, grace, and respect as we do our blood relatives?
In a conversation with my mom recently, I was telling my mom about how we had taken in a teenage girl, and we discussed how my husband and I had done this repeatedly throughout our marriage. We always wanted a big family, but neither of us were physically able.
Through the conversation with my mom, I realized that God was giving us the big family we wanted... it just didn't look like what the rest of the world calls "family".
Because it's His family. And God had been preparing both my husband and myself for this family our entire lives.
It's so typical to refer to God as Father, and only see Him in that role. I don't want to do that today, because I think it limits our understanding of God.
If we only see God as "father", then we're missing out on all that God is.
We'll miss out on living life in Christ, and we'll miss out on all the ways that God as Holy Spirit moves in our lives.
What better way to honor a father... to uplift and point out the blessing that his family is...
My family tree looks pretty different, compared to most. Mine has knobs, grafts, as well as intensely strong roots, trunk, and branches.
Whenever someone mentions a family tree, the image that comes to mind is more of a grapevine, rather than the typical tall tree.
Look at all the families around us.
Almost everywhere we look, the "typical" family of mother, father, and children isn't as prevalent as it used to be.
We see grandparents raising their grandchildren.
We see single parents raising their children alone.
We see aunt and uncles raising their nieces and / or nephews.
We see foster children, we see adopted children, all being added to our families.
We also see children who enter the fold of someone else's family, due to reasons unforeseen; an addition to a family by safety and love, rather than by blood.
What we think of as "family" is changing.
In Luke 6, in only a few short verses, Jesus redefines family:
Jesus' mother and brothers came to him but were unable to reach him because of the crowd. Someone told him, "Your mother and brothers are standing outside, wanting to see you."
He replied, "My mother and brothers are those who listen to God's word, and do it."
Sure, we call each other "brother" and "sister", because we are. In Christ.
But do we grasp the immensity of what that means?
Does our understanding of "brother" and "sister" only come from our own personal experiences of our blood-siblings and those relationships?
As kids, we played with our siblings.
We learned how to share.
We played tricks on each other, and we'd get each other into trouble.
Older siblings would help care for younger siblings.
We'd stick up for one another.
If each of us was to look at our own families, we could probably see that despite growing up in the same house, with the same parents, with the same rules, we all developed our own differing personalities.
Sometimes extremely different.
But our love for one another looks beyond our different personalities, beyond the surfaces of our lives. It is based on our common history, and cemented by the bond of growing up in the same house.
The family that Jesus spoke of in those few short verses goes much deeper than what we experienced growing up, and this family that we've been adopted into is much much larger than we tend to think about.
Scripture after scripture after scripture tells us that we've been adopted into the family of God.
All of us... brothers and sisters.
From brand new believers, to mentors; those called to be missionaries; those called to preach; those called to be prophets and teachers, those who've been called to serve; to pray; and to love.
Brothers and Sisters.
Our different ages, our different callings, our different personalities, our different strengths and gifts, as well as the different demons that we each battle; all puts us at different places in our relationships... with God, and with each other.
Despite those differences, there is an unexplainable unity we have, through Christ.
We've heard the saying, "We're all born with a God-shaped hole in our lives".
It's been my experience that I don't even fully comprehend how big that God-shaped hole is, because every time I look, God is filling that hole with more and more of Him, but using my brothers and sisters as the evidence.
I'm learning that in order to be complete, I need my Spirit-filled brothers and sisters in my life...
their experiences
their personalities
their encouragement
their presence
- that's what makes us whole.
Kind of like a body... different parts, different functions; all reliant upon one another in order to be whole.
It is this beautiful harmony and dependency; so indicative of family; that somewhat demonstrates the mystery of the Trinity -
separate, but One
different purposes, but for the same goal.
Where else, but this massive family God is building, can we cross cultural lines, and walk side-by-side, arm-in-arm with people who share our faith?
This faith that unites us isn't one that is based on a shared history, as it is with our blood-siblings; this bond we share is focused on a future... one that God Himself has promised each one of us - more of Him.
What does this new family look like?
People.
From all different walks of life, all different ages, all different backgrounds, from all different nations and cultures.
People, who instead of focusing on our differences, (which will only separate us further,) see the light in one another, and treat each other as if that is all we see.
By treating our brothers and sisters in this way, it is then that grace pushes away our judgements; as our stories are shared, and understanding bridges the gaping differences in our lives.
We begin spending our lives together.
Our side-by-side interactions become the tools God uses to refine us, to teach us, and to bind us further to one another, and to Him.
How amazing would it look if we treated our brothers and sisters in God's family with the same love, dignity, grace, and respect as we do our blood relatives?
In a conversation with my mom recently, I was telling my mom about how we had taken in a teenage girl, and we discussed how my husband and I had done this repeatedly throughout our marriage. We always wanted a big family, but neither of us were physically able.
Through the conversation with my mom, I realized that God was giving us the big family we wanted... it just didn't look like what the rest of the world calls "family".
Because it's His family. And God had been preparing both my husband and myself for this family our entire lives.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Encounters
I think it was almost a month ago the first time I went to visit him in jail.
I had no idea just how much that first visit would affect me.
Just as life throws curve balls, and we don't really know why we do something that takes us where we end up, he was in a place where he could be found that day.
Call it fate, call it divine intervention, whatever. He was right where he needed to be, so he could catch a glimpse into a world different than the one he was living in.
I didn't even get to meet him until after he was released from his first stint in jail. By then, all the conversations about, and prayers for him had connected me to him, drawn me to him.
Our first meeting was one of old friends, at least to me. To him, he was probably a little bit shocked at this crazy lady hugging him.
The differences between us were so staggering, it was almost comedic.
Black, white; young, not so young; fat, thin; short, tall; long hair, short hair. The list could go on.
What struck me most about him wasn't what we could all see; it was what he displayed in his being. A slight bit of fear and unease with his agreement to gather with this unlikely bunch, but the faith to go through with it, and the hope that accompanied him amidst all the introductions and joyous expressions of his return.
That's what I was drawn to.
Maybe he stayed because he recognized something in all of us.
Maybe he didn't see any strings holding any masks.
Maybe he saw and recognized that we'd all dealt with pain of our own.
Maybe he didn't see the telltale signs of people trying to hide that pain, or our shame.
Maybe he even recognized his own strength when in our company.
I don't know.
The beauty of his presence among us isn't knowing why he stayed, but in the staying. Who he is, exactly, right now... is what we were missing.
We couldn't be us without him.
We can't just pretend to know him, or his life, or where he's been without knowing him. Nor can we do a single thing to encourage him, to uplift him, or to help him believe in himself unless we know him.
That's what drove me to go visit him the first time. I wanted to know him more, I wanted to encourage him in this "hard place" he was in.
Being my first time visiting someone in jail, my assumptions were shattered upon our arrival. Face-to-face visitation was reduced to cameras and low-resolution screens, and an old phone receiver. Very 1980's-pay-phone-booth-ish, with about the same amount of personal connection.
About the time I was able to take it all in, we learned that we couldn't even see him that day.
I had to be okay with that; I already wasn't ready for the impersonal (dis)connection that awaited us.
I had to chew on this for a while.
Here I was, facing down a couple of stereotypes.
Prisoners.
What we think it's like in jail, based off of what we learn from movies and television.
But here was This Prisoner.
A man caught up in a world of bad choices.
A man in the process of being delivered from the demons that kept him trapped in that world.
My friend.
In This Jail.
Where our contact was through a computer screen.
Where the guise of technology did nothing to make life better; all it did was separate us further.
Where he'd live out his punishment for his offenses.
AND YET... my second visit completely changed my perspective...
This prisoner:
Our friend. Who admitted his crime, and accepted his punishment.
Our friend. Who, despite his surroundings, found Rest from his circumstances IN those surroundings.
Our friend. Who wasn't sulking in his punishment, but making hopeful plans for a better future.
This jail.
Where the technology that screamed of our disconnect, became the motivating factor in his decision to reconnect.
Where solitude-as-punishment has become the resting place for him, and so many like him, whose life on the outside is so much worse than it is on the inside.
Which houses him now, is catapulting him into a future that will change the lives of all who call him "friend".
I had no idea just how much that first visit would affect me.
Just as life throws curve balls, and we don't really know why we do something that takes us where we end up, he was in a place where he could be found that day.
Call it fate, call it divine intervention, whatever. He was right where he needed to be, so he could catch a glimpse into a world different than the one he was living in.
I didn't even get to meet him until after he was released from his first stint in jail. By then, all the conversations about, and prayers for him had connected me to him, drawn me to him.
Our first meeting was one of old friends, at least to me. To him, he was probably a little bit shocked at this crazy lady hugging him.
The differences between us were so staggering, it was almost comedic.
Black, white; young, not so young; fat, thin; short, tall; long hair, short hair. The list could go on.
What struck me most about him wasn't what we could all see; it was what he displayed in his being. A slight bit of fear and unease with his agreement to gather with this unlikely bunch, but the faith to go through with it, and the hope that accompanied him amidst all the introductions and joyous expressions of his return.
That's what I was drawn to.
Maybe he stayed because he recognized something in all of us.
Maybe he didn't see any strings holding any masks.
Maybe he saw and recognized that we'd all dealt with pain of our own.
Maybe he didn't see the telltale signs of people trying to hide that pain, or our shame.
Maybe he even recognized his own strength when in our company.
I don't know.
The beauty of his presence among us isn't knowing why he stayed, but in the staying. Who he is, exactly, right now... is what we were missing.
We couldn't be us without him.
We can't just pretend to know him, or his life, or where he's been without knowing him. Nor can we do a single thing to encourage him, to uplift him, or to help him believe in himself unless we know him.
That's what drove me to go visit him the first time. I wanted to know him more, I wanted to encourage him in this "hard place" he was in.
Being my first time visiting someone in jail, my assumptions were shattered upon our arrival. Face-to-face visitation was reduced to cameras and low-resolution screens, and an old phone receiver. Very 1980's-pay-phone-booth-ish, with about the same amount of personal connection.
About the time I was able to take it all in, we learned that we couldn't even see him that day.
I had to be okay with that; I already wasn't ready for the impersonal (dis)connection that awaited us.
I had to chew on this for a while.
Here I was, facing down a couple of stereotypes.
Prisoners.
What we think it's like in jail, based off of what we learn from movies and television.
But here was This Prisoner.
A man caught up in a world of bad choices.
A man in the process of being delivered from the demons that kept him trapped in that world.
My friend.
In This Jail.
Where our contact was through a computer screen.
Where the guise of technology did nothing to make life better; all it did was separate us further.
Where he'd live out his punishment for his offenses.
AND YET... my second visit completely changed my perspective...
This prisoner:
Our friend. Who admitted his crime, and accepted his punishment.
Our friend. Who, despite his surroundings, found Rest from his circumstances IN those surroundings.
Our friend. Who wasn't sulking in his punishment, but making hopeful plans for a better future.
This jail.
Where the technology that screamed of our disconnect, became the motivating factor in his decision to reconnect.
Where solitude-as-punishment has become the resting place for him, and so many like him, whose life on the outside is so much worse than it is on the inside.
Which houses him now, is catapulting him into a future that will change the lives of all who call him "friend".
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