I don't always know what to pray. Sometimes it feels like I've used up all my words about something (quite a feat for a writer, right?) and all I can do is look up at the ceiling and sigh. On mornings like that, it's tough to feel like I've connected with God--more like I've left a complaining message on his voicemail about how I've called 496 times and he still hasn't gotten back to me.
Lately when that's happened, I've flipped to the Psalms in the middle of the Bible, because they're prayers. Having those words to borrow as a starting place has proven mighty handy for generations of people trying to follow God. As I flip, I'll think, "Okay God, pick a number between 1-150..." This morning, I sensed "118." So I turned there and read this:
In my distress I prayed to the Lord, and the Lord answered me and rescued me.
The Lord is for me, so I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?
Yes, the Lord is for me; he will help me.
I will look in triumph at those who hate me.
It is better to trust the Lord than to put confidence in people.
It is better to trust the Lord than to put confidence in princes....
This is the day the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.
I'm taking these as my marching orders for today:
1. Remember the times God has rescued me in the past, and that he's FOR me.
2. Trust in him, rather than other people or authority figures to make my life work out.
3. Enjoy today.
The third part of this really strikes me. What if enjoying every little bit of every little day has spiritual power? What if, in the spiritual realm, our joy fends off evils like doubt and fear and funk? What if seizing moments to enjoy is our job, spiritually speaking? That, I can focus on.
Want to join me? Let's start a "resistance movement" of people enjoying Wednesday, June 30, 2010. Leave me a comment below if you're in, and share something--big or small--you've enjoyed in a bigger, fuller, more determined way. Vive La Resistance! :)
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Day 29: Teamwork makes the dream work
As I mentioned on my other blog, I had a great podcast interview last week with the fabulous Christy Tennant of the International Arts Movement. It was one of those rare, wonderful times where I was so caught up in our conversation that I almost forgot we were recording. And when we were done, it took everything I had not to say, "But wait--can't we talk longer?" It's fun when we meet someone whose outlook on the world overlaps in some way with ours.
When I think of life in terms of creation--this idea that we're all created with unique talents and gifts (and temperaments and temptations) that we can leverage to make some sort of difference in the world--I realize how important these connections are. I'm loving the new season of the television show Leverage for exactly this reason, because so much of the storyline is based on this idea, as the different team members reunite and realize that together they're better/faster/stronger/smarter than the sum of their parts.
Today, let's think about our "team": both the people already in our lives and the role they each play, and our "dream team" of friends with gifts that might fill in our blanks in cool ways. And let's talk to God about what WE bring to our team. I don't know about you, but I tend to forget.
Who is on your team?
When I think of life in terms of creation--this idea that we're all created with unique talents and gifts (and temperaments and temptations) that we can leverage to make some sort of difference in the world--I realize how important these connections are. I'm loving the new season of the television show Leverage for exactly this reason, because so much of the storyline is based on this idea, as the different team members reunite and realize that together they're better/faster/stronger/smarter than the sum of their parts.
Today, let's think about our "team": both the people already in our lives and the role they each play, and our "dream team" of friends with gifts that might fill in our blanks in cool ways. And let's talk to God about what WE bring to our team. I don't know about you, but I tend to forget.
Who is on your team?
Day 28: The Importance of Taking a Walk
If you've read my first book, you may remember that I spent a chunk of time at my best friend's house in Connecticut, hiding out from a not-so-nice first husband after I ran away. That was certainly one of the tougher times in my trek toward happily ever after, but as I look at it now (with the benefit of hindsight, knowing that I did not end up as I'd feared, living in Kristen's guest room forever) I see that as a stage in life, it had much to recommend it. Sometimes, we need space to spread out the pieces we have left and see what God can do with them.
Here's the thing about those times, though: they involve a lot of waiting. They're not productive in any demonstrable way, and so when people asked me what I was up to--expecting to hear about resumes sent out or apartments scouted--I was mortified. It just seemed too ridiculous to admit that my day was structured around a long walk, a long bath, a long drive, and pasta & pesto for dinner every night around 6:00pm. So mostly, I avoided people.
I'm re-reading C.S. Lewis' A GRIEF OBSERVED right now (the epigraph from my new memoir is from this collection of chapters mourning his wife and reflecting on his marriage) and am struck by Lewis' practicality in the midst of his pain. "I do all the walking I can," he says, "for I'd be a fool to go to bed not tired." During my time in Connecticut, insomnia was my greatest fear. I was a woman alone in a big house in the woods. If I screamed, no one would hear...in many ways it seemed the perfect set up for a horror film, and never more so than at 2:00am when my imagination would run wild. So I did all the walking I could.
Now, I live in the city. Were I to scream at 2am, plenty of people would hear (and the vile bird across the street would no doubt respond by screeching in a way that would strike terror into any would-be bad guys within a 30 mile radius). But now, if I let it, my brain goes to different sorts of night terrors: about a life wasted, dreams that never come true, becoming one of those people who could have done something with her life but didn't... You know the stuff, right? We all wrestle with it sometimes (I suspect this is why Ambien prescriptions are on the rise). The key is to fend it off.
What's my point in this? Perhaps that in the larger act of waiting--or mourning, or wondering what comes next--we each need a bunch of little strategies to help us cope with the specifics of any given day. I'm not sure what those are right now, in this particular season, but it seems worth asking. Because we're always waiting for something, and often mourning the loss of something else, even while celebrating unexpected blessings. Our life is rarely in a single season...instead the seasons overlap in a way that can make your head spin if it's not firmly attached.
Today, let's ask God for the skills we need to receive His love and the joy He promises us (and doesn't that seem like an audacious promise when we're struggling? Do you ever feel like saying, "Go ahead God, TRY to make me joyful!" ? But then He does, because we've given him permission...) Whether we have a bold day filled with forward progress toward tangible goals, or a day built carefully with shaking hands around a long walk, a long bath, and a long drive, let's ask for God's encouragement in the midst of it.
Tell me: What are your strategies for beating back bad thoughts?
Here's the thing about those times, though: they involve a lot of waiting. They're not productive in any demonstrable way, and so when people asked me what I was up to--expecting to hear about resumes sent out or apartments scouted--I was mortified. It just seemed too ridiculous to admit that my day was structured around a long walk, a long bath, a long drive, and pasta & pesto for dinner every night around 6:00pm. So mostly, I avoided people.
I'm re-reading C.S. Lewis' A GRIEF OBSERVED right now (the epigraph from my new memoir is from this collection of chapters mourning his wife and reflecting on his marriage) and am struck by Lewis' practicality in the midst of his pain. "I do all the walking I can," he says, "for I'd be a fool to go to bed not tired." During my time in Connecticut, insomnia was my greatest fear. I was a woman alone in a big house in the woods. If I screamed, no one would hear...in many ways it seemed the perfect set up for a horror film, and never more so than at 2:00am when my imagination would run wild. So I did all the walking I could.
Now, I live in the city. Were I to scream at 2am, plenty of people would hear (and the vile bird across the street would no doubt respond by screeching in a way that would strike terror into any would-be bad guys within a 30 mile radius). But now, if I let it, my brain goes to different sorts of night terrors: about a life wasted, dreams that never come true, becoming one of those people who could have done something with her life but didn't... You know the stuff, right? We all wrestle with it sometimes (I suspect this is why Ambien prescriptions are on the rise). The key is to fend it off.
What's my point in this? Perhaps that in the larger act of waiting--or mourning, or wondering what comes next--we each need a bunch of little strategies to help us cope with the specifics of any given day. I'm not sure what those are right now, in this particular season, but it seems worth asking. Because we're always waiting for something, and often mourning the loss of something else, even while celebrating unexpected blessings. Our life is rarely in a single season...instead the seasons overlap in a way that can make your head spin if it's not firmly attached.
Today, let's ask God for the skills we need to receive His love and the joy He promises us (and doesn't that seem like an audacious promise when we're struggling? Do you ever feel like saying, "Go ahead God, TRY to make me joyful!" ? But then He does, because we've given him permission...) Whether we have a bold day filled with forward progress toward tangible goals, or a day built carefully with shaking hands around a long walk, a long bath, and a long drive, let's ask for God's encouragement in the midst of it.
Tell me: What are your strategies for beating back bad thoughts?
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Day 26/27: Finding the right mix
It's Wimbledon time (yay summer!) and I'm watching this morning, caught in a mix of thoughts about strange fashion choices and the elusive blend of skill, determination, and luck it takes to hone your talent to "play" at the top levels, whatever that looks like in different settings of life.
I think I've blogged about this before, how captivated I am by the ups and downs of the world's top tennis players. Most are still in their 20s, but because they start so young, by the time they retire they've had--the ones who make it, anyway--something that can honestly be called a career. They've each had major setbacks--injuries, weird losses that sapped their confidence for months thereafter, coaching changes and/or personal drama that pulls focus. And yet somewhere inside, they pull something from deep inside to fight their way back into the game, back into the top.
What is that something?
This is worth asking, as we pray for the deepest desires of our heart. I don't think there's a one-size-fits-all answer to this, but maybe part of succeeding in our lives (and by succeeding, I mean really being the person God created us to be, in all the fullness of our unique set of talents and capacities) is paying attention to balance of three factors: How much is MOTIVATION? How much is PERSPIRATION (effort)? And how much is INSPIRATION, that incalculable, unpredictable extra that comes from God that we don't understand or control?
Right now, I'm watching a very fit Serena Williams annihilate her opponent. In years gone by, I've seen a flabby Serena struggle in frustrating games, an injured Serena play like a shell of herself, and a distracted Serena play unpredictably, her head clearly not in the game. Yet somehow after all those ups & downs, she's there today in top shape mentally and physically, doing her job (which is winning tennis tournaments, not just playing tennis). I love the idea that we can bounce back like that, don't you?
This weekend, as we talk to God about our dreams and how we hope to use our talents, let's ask for His help in achieving the best balance for our individual lives. Motivation. Perspiration. Inspiration. Only He knows the mix we'll need, and what that should look like today. So let's ask for the "recipe" for (as Oprah might say) our best life now.
Here's to a great weekend!
I think I've blogged about this before, how captivated I am by the ups and downs of the world's top tennis players. Most are still in their 20s, but because they start so young, by the time they retire they've had--the ones who make it, anyway--something that can honestly be called a career. They've each had major setbacks--injuries, weird losses that sapped their confidence for months thereafter, coaching changes and/or personal drama that pulls focus. And yet somewhere inside, they pull something from deep inside to fight their way back into the game, back into the top.
What is that something?
This is worth asking, as we pray for the deepest desires of our heart. I don't think there's a one-size-fits-all answer to this, but maybe part of succeeding in our lives (and by succeeding, I mean really being the person God created us to be, in all the fullness of our unique set of talents and capacities) is paying attention to balance of three factors: How much is MOTIVATION? How much is PERSPIRATION (effort)? And how much is INSPIRATION, that incalculable, unpredictable extra that comes from God that we don't understand or control?
Right now, I'm watching a very fit Serena Williams annihilate her opponent. In years gone by, I've seen a flabby Serena struggle in frustrating games, an injured Serena play like a shell of herself, and a distracted Serena play unpredictably, her head clearly not in the game. Yet somehow after all those ups & downs, she's there today in top shape mentally and physically, doing her job (which is winning tennis tournaments, not just playing tennis). I love the idea that we can bounce back like that, don't you?
This weekend, as we talk to God about our dreams and how we hope to use our talents, let's ask for His help in achieving the best balance for our individual lives. Motivation. Perspiration. Inspiration. Only He knows the mix we'll need, and what that should look like today. So let's ask for the "recipe" for (as Oprah might say) our best life now.
Here's to a great weekend!
Friday, June 25, 2010
Day 25: Advice
I was reading Job this morning. It's not my favorite book in the Bible...it's tough to reconcile my image of God as a loving father with some of the stuff that goes on in there. But as with other parts of the Bible, I've found the wrestling process valuable, even if it doesn't always lead to pat answers that allow me to say, "Ah yes, Job! Here's what it means..."
What caught my attention today is the role Job's friends play. They mean well, but they give him terrible advice. And his challenge there (among a whole host of considerable challenges) is to sort out the unwise counsel from the friends themselves. The people who love us enough to speak into our lives are both the best thing ever and a huge source of stress. We don't always know until afterward which is which, and in both cases we can end up in a ditch if we handle things unthoughtfully: we can deify friends to shed helpful light into our situations, making them "gods" in our lives; we can walk away from friends who tell us things we don't want to hear (or disagree with) hurling out the proverbial baby with the bathwater.
I spent the better part of yesterday with some friends who are also artistic/creative types. We're all in a season of feeling pulled toward some downtime, wondering what we might come up with if we dare take a little time to re-group. They're braver than I am, so they've already planned a sabbatical. Me? I'm chicken. Throughout our conversation, I kept blurting out lets-keep-going type things like "maybe THIS could happen!" or "what if God is saying XYZ-super-encouraging thing?" And they'd look at me with lots of kindness and say, "Well...maybe God is saying that to you..." (reminding me of a quote I once heard that said, “The best way to succeed in life is to act on the advice we give to others.”)
They were Job. I was Job's friends.
Here's the cool thing, though...(and it's important to have a cool thing to consider here, because we're all Job's blurty friends at one time or another)...this didn't crash out our friendship or negate our consideration of possible projects we might try together someday in the future. My blurts were, I think, contained in the space they were made rather than allowed to take hold of the entire conversation and strangle it. I'm grateful for that. Grace is a nice thing in friendships!
Here's my point in all of this: I think that in the big questions of life--the things we might pray about in a 40 Days of Faith, for example, about our hopes for live and love and happily ever after--we are so on the lookout for signs of hope that every bit of advice is given more weight than necessary. Someone says, "I think you'll meet someone soon" and we replay it over and over in our minds for days, while if someone else saying, "God wants you to be happy right where you are and not ask for more," we're despondent.
Today, let's ask God for help getting off of that roller coaster. Let's pray for wise counsel, both in terms of what we give and what we receive. And let's also ask for help giving the appropriate weight to whatever we hear, and prioritizing people over words.
And if you want to encourage me, fess up: Have you ever blurted out bad advice? Or am I the only one? :)
What caught my attention today is the role Job's friends play. They mean well, but they give him terrible advice. And his challenge there (among a whole host of considerable challenges) is to sort out the unwise counsel from the friends themselves. The people who love us enough to speak into our lives are both the best thing ever and a huge source of stress. We don't always know until afterward which is which, and in both cases we can end up in a ditch if we handle things unthoughtfully: we can deify friends to shed helpful light into our situations, making them "gods" in our lives; we can walk away from friends who tell us things we don't want to hear (or disagree with) hurling out the proverbial baby with the bathwater.
I spent the better part of yesterday with some friends who are also artistic/creative types. We're all in a season of feeling pulled toward some downtime, wondering what we might come up with if we dare take a little time to re-group. They're braver than I am, so they've already planned a sabbatical. Me? I'm chicken. Throughout our conversation, I kept blurting out lets-keep-going type things like "maybe THIS could happen!" or "what if God is saying XYZ-super-encouraging thing?" And they'd look at me with lots of kindness and say, "Well...maybe God is saying that to you..." (reminding me of a quote I once heard that said, “The best way to succeed in life is to act on the advice we give to others.”)
They were Job. I was Job's friends.
Here's the cool thing, though...(and it's important to have a cool thing to consider here, because we're all Job's blurty friends at one time or another)...this didn't crash out our friendship or negate our consideration of possible projects we might try together someday in the future. My blurts were, I think, contained in the space they were made rather than allowed to take hold of the entire conversation and strangle it. I'm grateful for that. Grace is a nice thing in friendships!
Here's my point in all of this: I think that in the big questions of life--the things we might pray about in a 40 Days of Faith, for example, about our hopes for live and love and happily ever after--we are so on the lookout for signs of hope that every bit of advice is given more weight than necessary. Someone says, "I think you'll meet someone soon" and we replay it over and over in our minds for days, while if someone else saying, "God wants you to be happy right where you are and not ask for more," we're despondent.
Today, let's ask God for help getting off of that roller coaster. Let's pray for wise counsel, both in terms of what we give and what we receive. And let's also ask for help giving the appropriate weight to whatever we hear, and prioritizing people over words.
And if you want to encourage me, fess up: Have you ever blurted out bad advice? Or am I the only one? :)
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Day 23/24: After Night...Sun
Thanks for your patience yesterday. Whatever "pearls of wisdom" might have sounded passable in the midst of the fun hecticness would have no doubt proven entirely embarrassing come morning. So I appreciated not having to redact an entire post :)
The launch party last night was astounding, all for reasons having nothing to do with me. My friends in the band Ryanhood flew into Cambridge to play (their most recent CD was the soundtrack for my writing process of the new book), and their songs inspired me all over again. Here's why: they're all about fighting to do the work you're created to do, and not giving up...and somehow involving God in that process so you don't get crushed under the burden of how things would/should/could be "if only..." I was having Oprah-worthy "a-ha" moments, right there on the stage for everyone to see. But that's so much better than not having them at all!
To end the evening, I asked them to play one of their newer songs. It's not on the CD, and they told the story of how writing it actually celebrated the end of the long, hard process of recording; how it's a song of celebration, reminding them (and us) that it's never night forever. Here's the video--check it out:
Today's plan: Let's take their advice, even if we can't yet see the light. Sing, for your light has come. After night, came sun...
(And yes, I mean that literally. Sign along with Ryanhood, the radio, or grab a friend for a few rounds of "row, row, row your boat..." You'll be surprised how much it helps!)
The launch party last night was astounding, all for reasons having nothing to do with me. My friends in the band Ryanhood flew into Cambridge to play (their most recent CD was the soundtrack for my writing process of the new book), and their songs inspired me all over again. Here's why: they're all about fighting to do the work you're created to do, and not giving up...and somehow involving God in that process so you don't get crushed under the burden of how things would/should/could be "if only..." I was having Oprah-worthy "a-ha" moments, right there on the stage for everyone to see. But that's so much better than not having them at all!
To end the evening, I asked them to play one of their newer songs. It's not on the CD, and they told the story of how writing it actually celebrated the end of the long, hard process of recording; how it's a song of celebration, reminding them (and us) that it's never night forever. Here's the video--check it out:
Today's plan: Let's take their advice, even if we can't yet see the light. Sing, for your light has come. After night, came sun...
(And yes, I mean that literally. Sign along with Ryanhood, the radio, or grab a friend for a few rounds of "row, row, row your boat..." You'll be surprised how much it helps!)
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Hold, please
Hi all,
Just a quick note to let you know I haven't forgotten you today...I'm in the weeds with book launch interviews and party prep this morning, and am lacking coherent inspiring thoughts. So rather than phoning it in, I thought I'd let you know what's up and that I'll be back with Day 23 thoughts as soon as I have some!!!
Thanks for the grace-
Love,
Trish
Just a quick note to let you know I haven't forgotten you today...I'm in the weeds with book launch interviews and party prep this morning, and am lacking coherent inspiring thoughts. So rather than phoning it in, I thought I'd let you know what's up and that I'll be back with Day 23 thoughts as soon as I have some!!!
Thanks for the grace-
Love,
Trish
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Day 22: Wisdom
I was up at 4:00am this morning, head spinning. I'd love to say it was spinning in some productive way...but nope. Just general awakeness. I came downstairs and did one of those "Bible dip" things Barbara Kingsolver describes in one of her books, opening the Bible at random. I landed in the first chapter of Proverbs, reading an exhortation to "Get Wisdom." It was 4:00am. I wasn't sure the wisdom store was open yet.We're all on a quest for wisdom in one way or another. Whether it's cookbooks teaching us how to caramelize onions without scalding them, or craft magazines leading us through 114 steps to the perfectly decorated July 4th celebration. I'm regularly astonished by how one local news station here runs 30 second spots about how their "BREAKING EXCLUSIVE STORY" will provide key information so their viewers will never again be duped by medical fraud, fast food caloric overload, or (in the most memorable of these strange segments) moldy cheese.
Confession: it's going to take more than crafts and cheese safety tips to get me through. Wisdom has got to mean more than that--Proverbs backs me up on this, saying it's the most important thing we can get, worth more than gold, silver, or rubies--but for the life of me I can't pin down what it is. What does it look like, and how do you know when you have it? (A Google image search turns up this picture of Clint Eastwood, along with some truly gross pictures of people in the midst of dental surgery...) Perhaps wisdom is inherently elusive, like the pornography famously described by Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart, who essentially gave up, saying "I shall not today attempt further to define [what] I understand to be embraced within that shorthand description; and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it." Is there any more hope to be had for us in ascertaining wisdom in some way that feels more certain? I'm not sure. I hope so. I guess I'm looking to the antidote to yesterday's tongue-in-cheek mediation on "The Suchness of Is" (a sentence that still makes me giggle, 48 hours later...)
Where do you see wisdom? Where do you look? Is there anyone in particular who inspires you particularly in this area?
Monday, June 21, 2010
Day 21: The Suchness of Is
Last night I re-read a journal published by a new-agey philosopher whose work I'd wrestled with back in the days when I approached spirituality like a smorgasbord. I'd been surprised to see his name pop up in the footnotes of the books of a couple of Jesus-ey authors, so I wanted to see if maybe there was something there I'd missed. I found myself back in the haze of frustration and confusion I remembered from reading this guy's stuff before, the struggle to make sense of it. Then I reached a sentence where he talked--at great length and in tremendous detail--about "The Suchness of all that Is." I burst out laughing, and felt set free from my struggle.
Here's what I realized: I'd spent years trying to understand this guy and others like him, feeling like an un-evolved idiot because the harder I tried, the less I understood. There was such a sense of failure: I was an (over) educated woman with more than a decade of dogged spiritual pursuit under my belt--how could this stuff remain so impenetrable? Millions of spiritual seekers lapped up his books like they were sacred texts (I'll admit a certain pride having his name visible on my bookshelf back then, even if the pages felt like so many word jumbles)...and yet I could not for the life of me tell you what his central premise was, what he might be saying about life or how to live it, or why/how people sat for hours in his living room debating alleged dichotomies and fallacies with the passion of lovers.
Last night, it became hilariously clear: I couldn't make sense of it because it doesn't make any sense. The Suchness of all that Is? With random capitalization? It's the ultimate case of the Emperor parading naked through the streets: the people so want him to be properly dressed that they overlook his embarrassing nakedness.
Here's the thing: in the unlikely chance that any of you know who I'm talking about, I don't bring this up to discredit this particular author (I should probably Google "The Suchness of all that Is" and see if his name comes up...) He's made an interesting career for himself over the years, worked really hard and written thousands and thousands of pages (as a writer, I'm in awe of his work ethic) and contributed something to the larger conversation, even if I'm not sure what it is. I'm a HUGE fan of people who take the time and effort to contribute something tangible (rather than random thoughts) to the larger conversation...I've often lamented missing out on the Salons of 17 & 18th century Europe, for exactly this reason. So no slam intended for the author.
But I bring this up because I see "The Suchness of Is" all around us: We're surrounded by expert ideas that don't make sense. They're everywhere, filling the pages of books and magazines, suggesting ridiculous, dangerous, or non-existent paths from where we are to where we want to be. We can't conquer food addiction by focusing obsessively on our food. We don't get over a guy by forcing ourselves to be his best friend and cheer him on as he loves someone else. We don't solve our money issues by speaking incantations over our bills and expecting them to magically multiply. My "a-ha" moment came when I realized: it's not just that this stuff doesn't work for me. It doesn't work for anybody.
All that said, let me bring this around to a happier place: Part of the reason I still read the Bible--even when I'm tired, or a passage is boring, or I don't get it--is because it doesn't leave me in this place. Every single time I've wrestled with the Bible, God has been there with me in some way, helping me understand. Sometimes things click into place (like when a grown up comes along and helps a kid solve a jigsaw puzzle). Other times I get an impression, God saying something to me about how this passage applies to my life right now. And there have been times when I'll wrestle with something, then flip to an entirely different part of the book in frustration, only to find a sentence there that speaks to me about the one before. It's kind of wild. And while I'll admit that I don't always love what God reveals to me, it's always "good" in that larger-than-this-world-I-probably-should-have-capitalized-it sort of way.
(And yes, I tried the page flip with the philosophy journal last night. Went from "The Suchness of Is" to something about the "Eternal Nest of cosmic being in non-dual reality." I checked in with God to see if he had a next step in mind, and sensed him saying, Close the book, you're done here... So I did.)
Is there something you've tried and tried (and tried) to understand or make work? Today, let's pray about that. Maybe God wants to set you free?
Here's what I realized: I'd spent years trying to understand this guy and others like him, feeling like an un-evolved idiot because the harder I tried, the less I understood. There was such a sense of failure: I was an (over) educated woman with more than a decade of dogged spiritual pursuit under my belt--how could this stuff remain so impenetrable? Millions of spiritual seekers lapped up his books like they were sacred texts (I'll admit a certain pride having his name visible on my bookshelf back then, even if the pages felt like so many word jumbles)...and yet I could not for the life of me tell you what his central premise was, what he might be saying about life or how to live it, or why/how people sat for hours in his living room debating alleged dichotomies and fallacies with the passion of lovers.
Last night, it became hilariously clear: I couldn't make sense of it because it doesn't make any sense. The Suchness of all that Is? With random capitalization? It's the ultimate case of the Emperor parading naked through the streets: the people so want him to be properly dressed that they overlook his embarrassing nakedness.
Here's the thing: in the unlikely chance that any of you know who I'm talking about, I don't bring this up to discredit this particular author (I should probably Google "The Suchness of all that Is" and see if his name comes up...) He's made an interesting career for himself over the years, worked really hard and written thousands and thousands of pages (as a writer, I'm in awe of his work ethic) and contributed something to the larger conversation, even if I'm not sure what it is. I'm a HUGE fan of people who take the time and effort to contribute something tangible (rather than random thoughts) to the larger conversation...I've often lamented missing out on the Salons of 17 & 18th century Europe, for exactly this reason. So no slam intended for the author.
But I bring this up because I see "The Suchness of Is" all around us: We're surrounded by expert ideas that don't make sense. They're everywhere, filling the pages of books and magazines, suggesting ridiculous, dangerous, or non-existent paths from where we are to where we want to be. We can't conquer food addiction by focusing obsessively on our food. We don't get over a guy by forcing ourselves to be his best friend and cheer him on as he loves someone else. We don't solve our money issues by speaking incantations over our bills and expecting them to magically multiply. My "a-ha" moment came when I realized: it's not just that this stuff doesn't work for me. It doesn't work for anybody.
All that said, let me bring this around to a happier place: Part of the reason I still read the Bible--even when I'm tired, or a passage is boring, or I don't get it--is because it doesn't leave me in this place. Every single time I've wrestled with the Bible, God has been there with me in some way, helping me understand. Sometimes things click into place (like when a grown up comes along and helps a kid solve a jigsaw puzzle). Other times I get an impression, God saying something to me about how this passage applies to my life right now. And there have been times when I'll wrestle with something, then flip to an entirely different part of the book in frustration, only to find a sentence there that speaks to me about the one before. It's kind of wild. And while I'll admit that I don't always love what God reveals to me, it's always "good" in that larger-than-this-world-I-probably-should-have-capitalized-it sort of way.
(And yes, I tried the page flip with the philosophy journal last night. Went from "The Suchness of Is" to something about the "Eternal Nest of cosmic being in non-dual reality." I checked in with God to see if he had a next step in mind, and sensed him saying, Close the book, you're done here... So I did.)
Is there something you've tried and tried (and tried) to understand or make work? Today, let's pray about that. Maybe God wants to set you free?
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Day 19/20: Plotters & Pansters
Some of us are planners, others not so much...Have you noticed? I'm not sure when I gave up on planning, but I suspect that with a little effort, I could trace it back to the first time my life fell apart. Some of you know the story: I'd worked hard to become a lawyer, only to discover that I hated the job. I'd cultivated an independent-girl-in-the-city persona, but that was a hard front to keep up in the face of increasing evidence that living in the city terrified me and I'd date practically any guy who kept me from having to be alone. I walked away from it all, which might seem like a brave thing to do...but it was really just because I couldn't imagine living the lie I'd created (inadvertently, but it was still a lie) even one more day.
And since then, my life has been a highway billboard for the slogan, "We make plans, God laughs."
But all around me, friends and family members plan out their lives with great success. They set goals, break them into smaller, doable pieces (just like the magazines say you should) and throw parties when they cross whatever finish line they'd been aiming for. It's inspiring.
It makes me wonder if the plotter/panster (I'm borrowing language from the writing world here, where authors will ask each other if they're "plotters" who know ahead of time what arc their book will take, or "pantsters" who fly by the seat of their pants when they write, waiting to see how the story unfolds) dichotomy isn't similar to the personality differences between "satisficers" (who are satisfied when needs are met and aren't all that picky about the details) and "maximizers" (who want to make sure they get the very best option available)? What if we're all wired in different ways, and much of our unhappiness in life comes from trying to function against our wiring?
It strikes me that this plotter/panster division has implications for prayer. As a panster, it's often difficult for me to pray specifically (and, let's be honest...with one or two notable exceptions, God's responses are almost never what I prayed for). But my planner friends describe lists, and specifics, and a real sense from God that He's not only hearing their prayers, He's helping them make the list. Makes me wonder if our prayers all fit into some larger puzzle somehow, that we can't see here on earth? (And just to be clear: I have no theological basis for this wondering...it's just a random thought wandering through my mind this morning).
Today's question: Are you a plotter or a panster? How does that work for you?
And since then, my life has been a highway billboard for the slogan, "We make plans, God laughs."
But all around me, friends and family members plan out their lives with great success. They set goals, break them into smaller, doable pieces (just like the magazines say you should) and throw parties when they cross whatever finish line they'd been aiming for. It's inspiring.
It makes me wonder if the plotter/panster (I'm borrowing language from the writing world here, where authors will ask each other if they're "plotters" who know ahead of time what arc their book will take, or "pantsters" who fly by the seat of their pants when they write, waiting to see how the story unfolds) dichotomy isn't similar to the personality differences between "satisficers" (who are satisfied when needs are met and aren't all that picky about the details) and "maximizers" (who want to make sure they get the very best option available)? What if we're all wired in different ways, and much of our unhappiness in life comes from trying to function against our wiring?
It strikes me that this plotter/panster division has implications for prayer. As a panster, it's often difficult for me to pray specifically (and, let's be honest...with one or two notable exceptions, God's responses are almost never what I prayed for). But my planner friends describe lists, and specifics, and a real sense from God that He's not only hearing their prayers, He's helping them make the list. Makes me wonder if our prayers all fit into some larger puzzle somehow, that we can't see here on earth? (And just to be clear: I have no theological basis for this wondering...it's just a random thought wandering through my mind this morning).
Today's question: Are you a plotter or a panster? How does that work for you?
Friday, June 18, 2010
Day 18: Checking In
We're a little less than halfway through our 40 Days, and I wanted to pause for a moment to see how everybody is doing.
So...How are you doing?
I'd love to hear from you today. How are you doing on the encouraged/discouraged meter? How are your conversations with God? Are there specific quotes or songs (or other things) that have spoken to you recently...or simply made you happy as you went about your day?
To return to imagery from our first couple of posts, Where is your boat?
So...How are you doing?
I'd love to hear from you today. How are you doing on the encouraged/discouraged meter? How are your conversations with God? Are there specific quotes or songs (or other things) that have spoken to you recently...or simply made you happy as you went about your day?
To return to imagery from our first couple of posts, Where is your boat?
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Day 17: Groping an Elephant
One of the things that helps me when I'm in a time of disappointment (or fear that life won't work out the way I hope) is to scale back a bit and try to see a bigger picture than my fear or questions suggest. I don't do this in a guilt-ridden, "Well, I should just be happy with what I have, because people all over the world have it far worse than me..." kind of way. That's true, but I've never once seen it work helpfully to transform despair, or prompt positive action. Feeling bad about feeling bad just adds layers to the problem.As you might have guessed from all the book references on my blogs and in my memoirs, reading is one of my primary strategies in searching for a larger picture. I consider the thoughts of folks who hold a variety of different outlooks. I'm not looking to adopt a new faith or philosophy, but (as suggested by the fabled elephant contemplated by three blind men) I find that looking at something through a different lens is often a helpful way to get a better picture of the whole.
As I wander through books, I find a ton of stuff I disagree with. (If the library let me annotate, I'd leave scrawls of outrage almost everywhere.) But usually I keep my pen to myself and keep reading, so long as the author seems to be heading toward a sincerely-held point rather than just callously tossing out annoying statements. And sometimes in the midst of that, I find hidden gems.
I spent last night with friends discussing one of these gems, the life slogan of Forrest Church: "Want what you have. Do what you can. Be who you are." We agreed that all three of these exhortations have the potential to derail a productive life if used selfishly, encouraging complacency, lack of ambition, and a defiant refusal to move away from bad habits and choices (the movie Reality Bites comes to mind). But we also saw the wisdom there, if approached from a different direction (or, as we put it, when considered with a Jesus overlay). When we added God to the mix, for us it seemed to line right up with much of what the Bible suggests: Enjoy today's gifts, whatever they might be...do something, don't just sit around lamenting your inability to fix this broken world...share the fullness of how and who God created you to be--unique, quirky, talented--rather than spending all your energy trying to conform by saying/wearing/doing the exact right thing. Because honestly? Nobody knows what the "right thing" is. (Even Oprah is really just guessing...)
As the conversation was winding down, we asked ourselves, How am I doing in these three areas? I'd love your answer, too, if you're game to share.
Here's to a day of hidden gems :)
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Day 16: A Cool Question
I was up late last night. I'd the early evening with girlfriends mourning the loss of our friend's husband, which was profound and powerful and good in that way that difficult, unthinkable things can sometimes be. When I got home, the Celtics were being annihilated by the Lakers, so I turned that off and reached for the book I'd started earlier in the day, a memoir with the improbable title, Evolving in Monkeytown.The author shared some things about her spiritual search that gripped me--describing that feeling I've sensed lately of knowing the basics of what you believe, but losing your grip (which was probably too tight anyway) on the finer points, such as how those beliefs might apply to a particular Wednesday afternoon. It was like having coffee with a new friend who gets exactly where you are...and doesn't try to move or change you.
At the end of the book I was more awake than ever, so I went online to listen to a talk given by the friend who died last month, Andrew (I know that sounds morbid, but it was actually pretty wonderful). He asked this SPECTACULAR question: "What will prompt us to ask for more from our experience of God?"
I'd never heard it put like that before. I've certainly been subject to admonishments to give more to God, or be better for God, or pray harder/longer/louder in faith that God would come through. And perhaps it has been suggested (maybe even clearly--I'm not always so quick to catch on) that our relationship with God can change and grow over time. But for whatever reason, Andrew's wording just struck me. And I wondered: What would prompt me to ask for more from my experience of God? I shuffled up to bed mulling over this question.
Apparently, the answer is Andrew: his wise words, heard four weeks after his death. He's prompting me to ask for more of my experience of God--today, right now. (Which is a powerful thing to consider if you're someone who longs to leave a legacy).
I'll be honest: I'm not sure what I'm asking for, or how I'll know if my prayer is answered. Strangely, this feels good--like I'm diving into the mystery of God rather than wading in slowly, trusting God to outline the parameters of both my prayer (he knows what I mean, even if I don't) and his answer.
Want to join me? Ask. Let's jump into the sea of question marks and ask God for more from our experience of him....and see what that means.
If you're in, drop a comment below and say, "I asked!" :)
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Day 15: When you see roses, smell them
During the months immediately after I left my first marriage, when I was hiding out at my friend Kristen's summer house in the Connecticut woods and trying to pick up the pieces/decide what to do next, I had an unusual perspective on time. Suddenly, there was too much of it, all waiting to be filled. It felt like time was lurking everywhere. At least twice a week I'd have a day that simply wouldn't end, filled with thoughts of shame, regret, and that awful certainty that nothing would ever get better.
Those were happy, happy days!
But if I'm honest in my remembering, here's the other thing about time that was also true: on the other days of the week (the ones where I wasn't drowning in dread) I had time to think. A lot of it. Expansive time. Space for my imagination to stretch out a bit. That was a good thing. Right now, after more than a year of intense, multi-tasking busy-ness, I miss that.
I was finishing up Eugene Peterson's book REVERSED THUNDER this morning, and he had some helpful things to say about time. This isn't my first encounter with the dual concepts of time found in the Bible (Chronos, which means chronological, sequential time, and Kairos, which is more qualitative, and means something to the effect of the right or opportune moment) but it's the first time I've seen it laid out in these terms:
"If we are dominated by a sense of chronos," Peterson warns, "the future is a source of anxiety, leeching energy from the present, leaving us whiningly discontent with the present, like the child who can't wait for Christmas." So, so true for me! Both when I was hiding out in Connecticut, and right here this morning. When I think too much about chronos, time is a tyrant; I'm always, endlessly behind.
Peterson goes on: "But if we are dominated by a sense of kairos, the future is a source of expectation that pours energy into the present." I underlined that quote approximately 17 times, as something inside me screamed, "That's what I need! Where do I sign up?" And that's the question, right? Where do we sign up?
Don't get me wrong--I don't want to abandon chronos and let my mind drift off into some fairytale land. As someone who hates being late, I appreciate having some order to my days. I just don't want to be bludgeoned by it. And I long for mental space to move around, to look for the opportunities God might want to show me. To stop, spiritually speaking, and smell the roses.
I'm reminded of a scene from Jeremiah, one of the prophetic books in the Old Testament:
"While Jeremiah was still confined in the courtyard of the guard, the word of the Lord came to him a second time: This is what the Lord says...Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know."
Then the Lord went on to describe quite candidly how things were going to get worse before they got better...but he gave Jeremiah a picture of how things would, eventually, get better. That's quite a gift in the midst of whatever captivity we find ourselves in, whether we're tangled in a multitude of demands from our daily lives, or drowning in a sea of unfilled time. I like the idea that if we create the space to check in--to look for the kairos in the middle of the chronos--God will give us a vision of things we can't know any other way, a vision that will help us live well in the present and anticipate the future, rather than letting the chronos choke us with fear of what will/won't happen.
Do you stop and smell the roses? Tell us how. Do you have it built into your week as a routine, like regular prayer/meditation time, or are you good at taking spontaneous moments throughout the day? Today, let's stop whenever we think of it, call on God, and see what he says.
Those were happy, happy days!
But if I'm honest in my remembering, here's the other thing about time that was also true: on the other days of the week (the ones where I wasn't drowning in dread) I had time to think. A lot of it. Expansive time. Space for my imagination to stretch out a bit. That was a good thing. Right now, after more than a year of intense, multi-tasking busy-ness, I miss that.
I was finishing up Eugene Peterson's book REVERSED THUNDER this morning, and he had some helpful things to say about time. This isn't my first encounter with the dual concepts of time found in the Bible (Chronos, which means chronological, sequential time, and Kairos, which is more qualitative, and means something to the effect of the right or opportune moment) but it's the first time I've seen it laid out in these terms:
"If we are dominated by a sense of chronos," Peterson warns, "the future is a source of anxiety, leeching energy from the present, leaving us whiningly discontent with the present, like the child who can't wait for Christmas." So, so true for me! Both when I was hiding out in Connecticut, and right here this morning. When I think too much about chronos, time is a tyrant; I'm always, endlessly behind.
Peterson goes on: "But if we are dominated by a sense of kairos, the future is a source of expectation that pours energy into the present." I underlined that quote approximately 17 times, as something inside me screamed, "That's what I need! Where do I sign up?" And that's the question, right? Where do we sign up?
Don't get me wrong--I don't want to abandon chronos and let my mind drift off into some fairytale land. As someone who hates being late, I appreciate having some order to my days. I just don't want to be bludgeoned by it. And I long for mental space to move around, to look for the opportunities God might want to show me. To stop, spiritually speaking, and smell the roses.
I'm reminded of a scene from Jeremiah, one of the prophetic books in the Old Testament:
"While Jeremiah was still confined in the courtyard of the guard, the word of the Lord came to him a second time: This is what the Lord says...Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know."
Then the Lord went on to describe quite candidly how things were going to get worse before they got better...but he gave Jeremiah a picture of how things would, eventually, get better. That's quite a gift in the midst of whatever captivity we find ourselves in, whether we're tangled in a multitude of demands from our daily lives, or drowning in a sea of unfilled time. I like the idea that if we create the space to check in--to look for the kairos in the middle of the chronos--God will give us a vision of things we can't know any other way, a vision that will help us live well in the present and anticipate the future, rather than letting the chronos choke us with fear of what will/won't happen.
Do you stop and smell the roses? Tell us how. Do you have it built into your week as a routine, like regular prayer/meditation time, or are you good at taking spontaneous moments throughout the day? Today, let's stop whenever we think of it, call on God, and see what he says.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Day 14: Little beads of time
I've been slightly obsessed with beads lately. A couple of weeks back, the Sunday paper had a coupon to a craft store, and it dawned on me that if I found myself in dire need of a cobalt blue necklace, or earrings to match my new green T-shirt, I had it within my power to make it happen. (In my mind, I'm a jewelry superhero, in training to respond to sparkle-related problems around the globe...)So it caught my attention recently when a friend used a bead-related metaphor to describe how she gets through tough days. "Sometimes," she said, "it's just about getting through these tiny chunks of time. You pray, you talk to God, you distract yourself, you focus...you push ahead and keep going. Because once you've strung together enough of these chunks, you find you've got a pretty good day..."
It's true, right? When I think back over a good day, usually it's a string of nice moments rather than one super-phenomenal thing that happened. It's a parking space in front of the post office, an encouraging email from a friend, a phone call with my sister, a sense that God is near... These are the beads that make up a day I'm grateful for, one that's fun to live. Conversely, it's not usually a big hurt or disappointment that ruins a day. More often than not, it's a series of small frustrations, or the overriding fear that nothing will ever get better and my hopes are futile. If I string those thoughts together, the beads will choke me. No thanks.
Today, I'm working this metaphor. I'm approaching life like an Add-A-Bead necklace. (As the website indicates, it's like, totally 80s...and the 80s are back, so check me out, making spirituality hip?!?) I'll pray, talk to God, distract myself, focus... I'll take on the ten minute chunks, rather than trying to micro-manage the whole 24 hours. And today just might be a pretty good day.
I'll start by reflecting on these two inspiring quotes from great artists of deep social influence:
"No matter how vacant and vain, how dead life may appear to be, the man of faith, of energy, of warmth, who knows something, will not be put off so easily." --Vincent Van Gogh
"Life is too short to blend in." --Paris Hilton
They're both right.
With these gems in mind, I need your help! Leave a comment with your suggestions for reclaiming the chunks of time where the bad thoughts seem to be winning. What do you focus on--and I love silly ideas best--to give you a little lift & life during the day?
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Day 12 & 13: What's The Story?
My friend Larramie sent me a wonderful email yesterday. It was about how I share my story. She remarked on my candor, asking how I felt about being so open in my writing. Her heartfelt encouragement made me want to hug her, right through the giant tangle of the world wide web.
But here's the funny thing: I haven't replied yet, because I'm not sure how to answer. As crazy as it sounds, I've never thought about how to feel about sharing this stuff. I think I've always been of the mindset that most of us have more going on inside--interesting ideas, provocative thoughts, perspectives and experiences--than the typical scope of our everyday lives creates space for. Maybe this is why I love reading blog posts and have found so many cool friends online...it's a venue for us to dig around and share our lives.
But sometimes what comes up is the realization that we don't like our lives. That's tough to reconcile.
In Donald Miller's most recent book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life, he makes the compelling argument that any one of us can, at any time, decide to live a better story. Having done this a time or two (and oh, how I wish I'd had this spiffy catch phrase to describe my flailing, floppy process!) I totally agree. But it takes more than a decision, right? As I blogged yesterday, we need some sort of help to recalibrate in a new, better direction. Otherwise we just spin.
Today, my story is in a sad spot with the recent death of a friend. It's a mourning kind of place, rather than a launching pad from which to conquer the world. But I like my story in the big-picture sense: the thru line, the direction, the hope. It hasn't always been this way, so I'm a extra grateful.
How do you feel about your story? Let's spend this weekend thinking that over. Ask yourself--write it down, create lists of like/don't like if that helps. Then ask God what HE thinks, and if he has any recommendations. Then (and this is the challenge) to the best of your ability, do what he suggests.
If you've read my first book, you may remember the chapter where I describe trying this for the first time. My friend Amy and I were praying for husbands. She checked in with God and received fun marching orders to girlify herself: Get a pedicure! Buy a purse! I asked God what my instructions were, and he essentially said, "Stand back! We're taking the whole structure down and starting over..."
Tough, but the better story is worth it.
Need encouragement? I love the song The Long Way Around by the Dixie Chicks, because it's just so true: when I look at friends who settled down the minute they became "adults," the ones whose stories have been clear, focused, and linear when compared to my crazy zigs and zags, this feeling of envy creeps in...until I realize that for whatever reason, I couldn't have pulled that off if I'd tried. I'm not a simple girl. I'm taking the long way around. And maybe that's part of the story :)
How do you feel about your story?
But here's the funny thing: I haven't replied yet, because I'm not sure how to answer. As crazy as it sounds, I've never thought about how to feel about sharing this stuff. I think I've always been of the mindset that most of us have more going on inside--interesting ideas, provocative thoughts, perspectives and experiences--than the typical scope of our everyday lives creates space for. Maybe this is why I love reading blog posts and have found so many cool friends online...it's a venue for us to dig around and share our lives.
But sometimes what comes up is the realization that we don't like our lives. That's tough to reconcile.
In Donald Miller's most recent book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years: What I Learned While Editing My Life, he makes the compelling argument that any one of us can, at any time, decide to live a better story. Having done this a time or two (and oh, how I wish I'd had this spiffy catch phrase to describe my flailing, floppy process!) I totally agree. But it takes more than a decision, right? As I blogged yesterday, we need some sort of help to recalibrate in a new, better direction. Otherwise we just spin.
Today, my story is in a sad spot with the recent death of a friend. It's a mourning kind of place, rather than a launching pad from which to conquer the world. But I like my story in the big-picture sense: the thru line, the direction, the hope. It hasn't always been this way, so I'm a extra grateful.
How do you feel about your story? Let's spend this weekend thinking that over. Ask yourself--write it down, create lists of like/don't like if that helps. Then ask God what HE thinks, and if he has any recommendations. Then (and this is the challenge) to the best of your ability, do what he suggests.
If you've read my first book, you may remember the chapter where I describe trying this for the first time. My friend Amy and I were praying for husbands. She checked in with God and received fun marching orders to girlify herself: Get a pedicure! Buy a purse! I asked God what my instructions were, and he essentially said, "Stand back! We're taking the whole structure down and starting over..."
Tough, but the better story is worth it.
Need encouragement? I love the song The Long Way Around by the Dixie Chicks, because it's just so true: when I look at friends who settled down the minute they became "adults," the ones whose stories have been clear, focused, and linear when compared to my crazy zigs and zags, this feeling of envy creeps in...until I realize that for whatever reason, I couldn't have pulled that off if I'd tried. I'm not a simple girl. I'm taking the long way around. And maybe that's part of the story :)
How do you feel about your story?
Friday, June 11, 2010
Day 11: Can we right the wrongs?
The Books section of today's NYTimes has some entertaining headlines, even if you're not into books. One review is called "To Err is Human: And How! And Why!" about two books on the art and science of being wrong. (I can't help but wonder if my early dating years aren't mentioned in at least one of them, given how doggedly I pursued my own gift of being wrong...) The other review is entitled, "You Can't Run From The Past, But You Can Rewrite It." True again!
Most of us--if we have a sense of humor, or irony, or a career in the arts in which some understanding of angst and pathos is helpful--can mine some gold from the lower dips in the narrative timeline of our pasts. But lets be honest: just because we can use it for good in the present doesn't mean parts of it don't sting when we take a moment to really think about them....or that they can't leave us despondent on the couch for a whole weekend with a gallon of Rocky Road and a marathon of Julia Roberts movies on cable if a wayward memory catches us off guard. The past can be potent.
How do we defuse it? Especially in places where we see ourselves making the same mistakes over and over again, how do we break the cycle? I used to read helpful books. I'd identify my mistakes, and DECIDE TO BE DIFFERENT! The trouble was that when I was in the trenches of real life, away from my books and my firm decisions, I couldn't always figure out what "different" looked like, on a what-do-I-do-now? level. So back on the roller coaster I'd go.
I'll admit that I wish my grand solution to this dilemma was cooler. As I said in my first book, I'd love nothing more than to say that my life was changed my adding kale to my diet and finding the right lip gloss. If only... But what really happened was this: God spoke to me one day (weird, right?) and said, "I have a husband for you, and a family...everything you want. But you need to take Jesus seriously." It was just so ridiculously crazy, I decided to give it a try...even though I had no idea what "taking Jesus seriously" might entail.
Eight years (and a husband) later, I'm still figuring it out. I'm delighted to report that it didn't mean a lot of the things I feared it might...and that it helped in a whole host of unexpected ways. No the least of which was answering the question, "What do I do with my wrongs?"
Jesus says, "Give them to me." And if we do, he transforms them. And us. It's miraculous, and mysterious. But I've seen it too many times not to believe in it's power.
So today, if the headline about rewriting the past seems like a possibility too good to be true to you, try talking to Jesus. Ask him if it's true what that Blogger Trish said, about how he could help. And ask him for a vision of your future--free of baggage and cycles of mistakes--might look like.
An engineer named Charles Kettering once said, “My interest is in the future because I am going to spend the rest of my life there." Provocative point. I wonder if cleaning up our past, inviting in Jesus' spiritual help to sort things out (like an organizational expert who helps you decide what to hold onto and what to throw away), might be one of the most powerful things we can do to get out of our cycle of hurts and wrongs and invest in a better future?
Make me feel better: Am I the only one out here with wrongs that need transforming?
Most of us--if we have a sense of humor, or irony, or a career in the arts in which some understanding of angst and pathos is helpful--can mine some gold from the lower dips in the narrative timeline of our pasts. But lets be honest: just because we can use it for good in the present doesn't mean parts of it don't sting when we take a moment to really think about them....or that they can't leave us despondent on the couch for a whole weekend with a gallon of Rocky Road and a marathon of Julia Roberts movies on cable if a wayward memory catches us off guard. The past can be potent.
How do we defuse it? Especially in places where we see ourselves making the same mistakes over and over again, how do we break the cycle? I used to read helpful books. I'd identify my mistakes, and DECIDE TO BE DIFFERENT! The trouble was that when I was in the trenches of real life, away from my books and my firm decisions, I couldn't always figure out what "different" looked like, on a what-do-I-do-now? level. So back on the roller coaster I'd go.
I'll admit that I wish my grand solution to this dilemma was cooler. As I said in my first book, I'd love nothing more than to say that my life was changed my adding kale to my diet and finding the right lip gloss. If only... But what really happened was this: God spoke to me one day (weird, right?) and said, "I have a husband for you, and a family...everything you want. But you need to take Jesus seriously." It was just so ridiculously crazy, I decided to give it a try...even though I had no idea what "taking Jesus seriously" might entail.
Eight years (and a husband) later, I'm still figuring it out. I'm delighted to report that it didn't mean a lot of the things I feared it might...and that it helped in a whole host of unexpected ways. No the least of which was answering the question, "What do I do with my wrongs?"
Jesus says, "Give them to me." And if we do, he transforms them. And us. It's miraculous, and mysterious. But I've seen it too many times not to believe in it's power.
So today, if the headline about rewriting the past seems like a possibility too good to be true to you, try talking to Jesus. Ask him if it's true what that Blogger Trish said, about how he could help. And ask him for a vision of your future--free of baggage and cycles of mistakes--might look like.
An engineer named Charles Kettering once said, “My interest is in the future because I am going to spend the rest of my life there." Provocative point. I wonder if cleaning up our past, inviting in Jesus' spiritual help to sort things out (like an organizational expert who helps you decide what to hold onto and what to throw away), might be one of the most powerful things we can do to get out of our cycle of hurts and wrongs and invest in a better future?
Make me feel better: Am I the only one out here with wrongs that need transforming?
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Day 10: Shake it up
Sometimes when I check in with God for guidance about the day's post for our 40 Days of Faith adventures, I'll think of a song. And 9 out of 10 times when I look up the lyrics, that song will have some message in a line or two that I hadn't noticed before, that speaks with an eerie sort of precision to the topic of the day.
Today when I checked in, I heard Shake It Up by the Cars. I don't even like that song, so I figured it must be filled with some Divine meaning I'd overlooked...
Or not. Maybe I'm missing something, but from what I can tell it's just a song about dancing. All night. To the beat. There's encouragement to whirl your hair. But that's about it.
I'm laughing as I type, thinking about how absurd this sounds (and that if you'd told me back in law school that someday I'd be writing in a public forum about how God speaks to me through song lyrics, I'd have backed away slowly and stopped returning your calls). But I'm also thinking about communication--and miscommunication--in relationships generally. Have you ever heard a friend mention something and think it's a big deal, only to learn later that it was just a passing comment? I can easily think of 1,001 things guys said to me over the years that I accorded WAY more weight and meaning than intended. And anytime my parents said, "Maybe--we'll think about it..." I determinedly heard "Yes, Trish, of course you can go to that party!"
We have translators in our brain that filter what we hear, and a sorting system that prioritizes input in ways we're not always conscious of. (Let me pause here to say that I'm no scientist. I have no idea whether or not we actually have translators and a sorting system in our brains. But clearly some sort of process is going on in there, and it works in a way we don't entirely control.) Sometimes we get it right, other times not so much.
I don't always know what to do with this, but it's been helpful sometimes to back up and take things at face value, rather than plumbing them endlessly for deep meaning. For example, how do I know God's message to us today isn't to shake it up? Maybe we'll each have an opportunity today to dance--literally, metaphorically, on the inside, who knows?--that we'll be tempted to pass by so as not to rock the boat. What if God really is saying, as clearly as he can so I won't miss it, Shake It Up!
Today, I'll try to keep my eyes & ears open for chances to do just that. For all of us, why don't we take this as an opportunity to check in with God to ask if we've missed the point about anything--with him, with friends, with other relationships. Let's ask him to help us understand the real meaning behind things we've mis-filtered & mis-sorted, and how to respond. The Cars say not to worry about my two left feet...but God knows I can't not worry about anything without his help. :)
Share: what song is going through your head right now?
Today when I checked in, I heard Shake It Up by the Cars. I don't even like that song, so I figured it must be filled with some Divine meaning I'd overlooked...
Or not. Maybe I'm missing something, but from what I can tell it's just a song about dancing. All night. To the beat. There's encouragement to whirl your hair. But that's about it.
I'm laughing as I type, thinking about how absurd this sounds (and that if you'd told me back in law school that someday I'd be writing in a public forum about how God speaks to me through song lyrics, I'd have backed away slowly and stopped returning your calls). But I'm also thinking about communication--and miscommunication--in relationships generally. Have you ever heard a friend mention something and think it's a big deal, only to learn later that it was just a passing comment? I can easily think of 1,001 things guys said to me over the years that I accorded WAY more weight and meaning than intended. And anytime my parents said, "Maybe--we'll think about it..." I determinedly heard "Yes, Trish, of course you can go to that party!"
We have translators in our brain that filter what we hear, and a sorting system that prioritizes input in ways we're not always conscious of. (Let me pause here to say that I'm no scientist. I have no idea whether or not we actually have translators and a sorting system in our brains. But clearly some sort of process is going on in there, and it works in a way we don't entirely control.) Sometimes we get it right, other times not so much.
I don't always know what to do with this, but it's been helpful sometimes to back up and take things at face value, rather than plumbing them endlessly for deep meaning. For example, how do I know God's message to us today isn't to shake it up? Maybe we'll each have an opportunity today to dance--literally, metaphorically, on the inside, who knows?--that we'll be tempted to pass by so as not to rock the boat. What if God really is saying, as clearly as he can so I won't miss it, Shake It Up!
Today, I'll try to keep my eyes & ears open for chances to do just that. For all of us, why don't we take this as an opportunity to check in with God to ask if we've missed the point about anything--with him, with friends, with other relationships. Let's ask him to help us understand the real meaning behind things we've mis-filtered & mis-sorted, and how to respond. The Cars say not to worry about my two left feet...but God knows I can't not worry about anything without his help. :)
Share: what song is going through your head right now?
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Day 9: Celebrating!?
I just got an email from my friends Paul & Pascha labeled "Wahoo! Lookie what came this AM!" Inside was a picture of my new book, fresh out of the box. I was thrilled, teary-eyed...and a little torn.
I've been reading Lamentations--a sad section of the Old Testament, written by a man overlooking his desolate, ruined city. And with it, I've been reading books about mourning, and the death of people we love, and the death of dreams we've invested in. (Nothing but sunshine & flowers here!)
Before you start to worry, let me assure you that it's been helpful--and strangely encouraging--to have this time to think in a focused way about life and death and hope and, well...dashed hopes. And to ask God, "Where are you in the middle of this?" Because at the end of the day, I don't want other peoples' answers. I want to hear from God, so I can "get it" in a way that feels real, and deeper than seeing Footprints in the Sand written on a plaque somewhere.
And so in the middle of this angsty time of questions, the first real copy of A MAZE OF GRACE arrives at my friends' house! It's time to celebrate.
Confession: I'm not so great with transitions like this. And yet the Bible is pretty clear about the importance of stopping wherever we are to give God props when amazing things happen. And to hit this point home, the Bible defines "amazing" with everyday miracles like sunrise, breath, laughter, enjoying our work...On those terms, it would be downright obnoxious of me not to stop my mourning, crank up Kool & The Gang, and do a pajama-clad happy dance around the block like Princess Giselle from Enchanted (although I'll need either white shoes or flowey-er sleepwear...)
So today, I'm working on making this transition. I'm celebrating, trusting that the questions (and the answers) will still be there for me to explore when the party dies down. I'm learning that part of the benefits package of loving God is the ability to celebrate answered prayers in the midst of sadness, and to enjoy the joy.
Because really, NO ONE benefits from a grumpy Giselle... :)
How are you at showing up for the party in the midst of whatever else is going on? What can you celebrate today?
I've been reading Lamentations--a sad section of the Old Testament, written by a man overlooking his desolate, ruined city. And with it, I've been reading books about mourning, and the death of people we love, and the death of dreams we've invested in. (Nothing but sunshine & flowers here!)
Before you start to worry, let me assure you that it's been helpful--and strangely encouraging--to have this time to think in a focused way about life and death and hope and, well...dashed hopes. And to ask God, "Where are you in the middle of this?" Because at the end of the day, I don't want other peoples' answers. I want to hear from God, so I can "get it" in a way that feels real, and deeper than seeing Footprints in the Sand written on a plaque somewhere.
And so in the middle of this angsty time of questions, the first real copy of A MAZE OF GRACE arrives at my friends' house! It's time to celebrate.
Confession: I'm not so great with transitions like this. And yet the Bible is pretty clear about the importance of stopping wherever we are to give God props when amazing things happen. And to hit this point home, the Bible defines "amazing" with everyday miracles like sunrise, breath, laughter, enjoying our work...On those terms, it would be downright obnoxious of me not to stop my mourning, crank up Kool & The Gang, and do a pajama-clad happy dance around the block like Princess Giselle from Enchanted (although I'll need either white shoes or flowey-er sleepwear...)
So today, I'm working on making this transition. I'm celebrating, trusting that the questions (and the answers) will still be there for me to explore when the party dies down. I'm learning that part of the benefits package of loving God is the ability to celebrate answered prayers in the midst of sadness, and to enjoy the joy.
Because really, NO ONE benefits from a grumpy Giselle... :)
How are you at showing up for the party in the midst of whatever else is going on? What can you celebrate today?
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Day 8: Waiting out the Swirl
My mind is circling a bunch of different directions this morning, and I'm not sure how they fit together. Perhaps they don't. But you know the sense you get when the mental multi-tasking feels different, somehow? That odd awareness that, If I just give all those thoughts enough time & space to zoom around, they'll land in an interesting way? That's me this morning. Waiting for the zooming to stop.It's a challenge to leave room for this. Part of me likes defined time, where I start and end a project or a prayer, and then move on to whatever is next. But creativity (and by this I mean life) rarely works that way.
As I write this, I'm thinking about an author friend who flummoxed an interviewer recently by admitting that the bulk of her "writing" time is spent staring at the wall or out the window. I recently turned down a request to have a teen writer job shadow me for exactly this reason--I was terrified that after an afternoon with me, the girl would never do homework again!
As we grow up, it becomes less and less about getting the homework done. I've wasted too many days trying to force myself into productive mode (as if I had a camera crew following me, reporting back to headquarters) with little or nothing to show for my efforts. My best "stuff" comes after it's had time to percolate a bit, and then to sit. But that's tough to wait for in a world that constantly threatens to leave us behind.
I feel caught in the swirl of two truths: One, the artistic lament of the decades, that quality takes time. The other, the wise words of a law school friend who refused to let the stress get to him, that things tend to get done. Both are true. But it's a weird tension to hold.
Where are you in this tension? If our lives are part of God's creative act, is there time in your life to let things percolate, trusting that they (and you) will land where they're supposed to be? My guess is that I'm not alone in answering "no." Let's talk to God about that today. Let's ask for holy confidence in his plan, and for space--mental, physical, emotional--to let things settle down enough, inside and around us, so we can see the patterns emerge.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Day 7: Hope/Optimism
I'm thinking about optimism. I've always considered myself an optimist, at least until I read a scathing indictment of optimism by Eugene Peterson in the second-to-last chapter of Reversed Thunder, where he makes a compelling point about how optimism can be a way to avoid God.
Optimism, he argues, is built on faith in ourselves and our ability to make the world around us work in a pleasing way, shaping it to our desired outcome. He describes how optimism can be moral--using goodwill to fend off injustice; or technological--applying scientific intelligence to solve world problems. And he wisely acknowledges, "It seems ungracious to be unenthusiastic over such an enormous expenditure of intelligence and good will. These people, after all, are at least doing something."
That's the rally cry of our world, right? "Things are falling apart, DO SOMETHING!" We receive 1,001 daily exhortations to do our part, each promising that if we all do our part, things will get better.
What if this is a false promise? I've seen too much to believe that things get better, in any long-term way, without God, and Peterson's words made me realize how much of my optimism is "a way of staying useful" while keeping God out of the picture so the pieces and factors which make up my life feel more manageable.
As I thought about this this morning, I realized that optimism is not the same as hope. I've used them interchangeably for most of my life, but I wonder if perhaps I've been missing a piece of the puzzle? Hope, as it's described in the Bible, has a huge element of mystery to it. You can't just "have" hope. It's a gift from God. We think we know what we're hopeful towards, but the Bible suggests that our imaginations are limited, that what God has for us is bigger, better, faster stronger...entirely other than anything we can dream up to staple onto a vision board or write down in a prayer request. That's what I want.
So this morning, I'm trading in my optimism--my belief that through careful stewarding of my gifts and talents (along with dogged recycling and a determined effort to reduce my carbon footprint) I'll make the world a better place. In its place, I'm asking for hope. Hope is scary and mysterious and entirely out of my control. But so is life. And in that way, hope seems an entirely more suitable tool for this journey than the small control of optimism.
I'm brought back to two oft-cited quotes, one a reminder, the other a warning:
From the New Testament letter to the Hebrews: "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." I'm going to focus on the first word--NOW. This is what faith is, and I'm asking God for more of it, in this moment. I want that unexplainable certainty that my hope has substance.
And from the venerable C.S. Lewis: "We are half-hearted creatures...like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."
It's tough for me to imagine that what I've asked God for is somehow less than he has for me. But today, I'll allow for the possibility, asking God to make me a whole-hearted creature, excited about the offer of a holiday at sea.
Because really, who couldn't use a vacation? :)
Checking in: On a scale of 1 ("what's hope?") to 10 ("I'm walking on sunshine") where is your hope-o-meter today?
Optimism, he argues, is built on faith in ourselves and our ability to make the world around us work in a pleasing way, shaping it to our desired outcome. He describes how optimism can be moral--using goodwill to fend off injustice; or technological--applying scientific intelligence to solve world problems. And he wisely acknowledges, "It seems ungracious to be unenthusiastic over such an enormous expenditure of intelligence and good will. These people, after all, are at least doing something."
That's the rally cry of our world, right? "Things are falling apart, DO SOMETHING!" We receive 1,001 daily exhortations to do our part, each promising that if we all do our part, things will get better.
What if this is a false promise? I've seen too much to believe that things get better, in any long-term way, without God, and Peterson's words made me realize how much of my optimism is "a way of staying useful" while keeping God out of the picture so the pieces and factors which make up my life feel more manageable.
As I thought about this this morning, I realized that optimism is not the same as hope. I've used them interchangeably for most of my life, but I wonder if perhaps I've been missing a piece of the puzzle? Hope, as it's described in the Bible, has a huge element of mystery to it. You can't just "have" hope. It's a gift from God. We think we know what we're hopeful towards, but the Bible suggests that our imaginations are limited, that what God has for us is bigger, better, faster stronger...entirely other than anything we can dream up to staple onto a vision board or write down in a prayer request. That's what I want.
So this morning, I'm trading in my optimism--my belief that through careful stewarding of my gifts and talents (along with dogged recycling and a determined effort to reduce my carbon footprint) I'll make the world a better place. In its place, I'm asking for hope. Hope is scary and mysterious and entirely out of my control. But so is life. And in that way, hope seems an entirely more suitable tool for this journey than the small control of optimism.
I'm brought back to two oft-cited quotes, one a reminder, the other a warning:
From the New Testament letter to the Hebrews: "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." I'm going to focus on the first word--NOW. This is what faith is, and I'm asking God for more of it, in this moment. I want that unexplainable certainty that my hope has substance.
And from the venerable C.S. Lewis: "We are half-hearted creatures...like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."
It's tough for me to imagine that what I've asked God for is somehow less than he has for me. But today, I'll allow for the possibility, asking God to make me a whole-hearted creature, excited about the offer of a holiday at sea.
Because really, who couldn't use a vacation? :)
Checking in: On a scale of 1 ("what's hope?") to 10 ("I'm walking on sunshine") where is your hope-o-meter today?
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Day 6: Conversations with God
It's Sunday, which seems like a good day to change up our prayer approach, and try conversing with God. Let's go for dialogue, rather than monologue.My friend Dave does this often. He takes long walks to chat with God, and he usually starts out with something simple, like: "Hi God, how are you?" (he's happy to report that God is usually doing quite well). This seems as good a place to begin as any.
After the small talk, listen. Give God some room to speak. Not just for three or four minutes, as I tried this morning. But for the whole day. Let's try to stay "tuned in" to the God channel and see what happens.
And if you hear something? Hold it lightly. Use it as a starting point for future prayers. As someone told me recently, hearing from God is the easy part; it's interpreting what God means that's complicated. Acknowledging this tension, let's tune in.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Day 5: No More Chains
I woke up thinking about forgiveness. We've moved twice in the past year, so I'm very acquainted with my belongings, and the sense you sometimes get about certain things that tells you, "This is not important enough to me to haul up and down even one more flight of stairs..."
Pain can be like that, especially when it's caused by other people. Broken hearts and disappointments come in all shapes and sizes, and sometimes it's not even the big stuff that weighs us down--it's little stuff, unattended.
Nichole Nordeman sings a song called No More Chains that I think is about this feeling, about the pressure and stress of hauling a heavy weight up and down a mountain. No one made her, she says. She just did it without thinking, believing it was part of being her. We don't have to pull those chains around, though. We can just forgive.
This is one of the coolest things about Jesus, the way he helps with forgiveness. We don't even have to mean it, I've learned. We just have to be willing to say it (the power of our words again), and invite him into the process. So today, I've been saying, "I choose to forgive ____, in Jesus' name." With each sentence, I feel lighter. It's good.
The last lines of this song say, "I should let you give me wings...I should let you set me free..."
A captivating possibility.
Pain can be like that, especially when it's caused by other people. Broken hearts and disappointments come in all shapes and sizes, and sometimes it's not even the big stuff that weighs us down--it's little stuff, unattended.
Nichole Nordeman sings a song called No More Chains that I think is about this feeling, about the pressure and stress of hauling a heavy weight up and down a mountain. No one made her, she says. She just did it without thinking, believing it was part of being her. We don't have to pull those chains around, though. We can just forgive.
This is one of the coolest things about Jesus, the way he helps with forgiveness. We don't even have to mean it, I've learned. We just have to be willing to say it (the power of our words again), and invite him into the process. So today, I've been saying, "I choose to forgive ____, in Jesus' name." With each sentence, I feel lighter. It's good.
The last lines of this song say, "I should let you give me wings...I should let you set me free..."
A captivating possibility.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Day 4: Sunshine Day
I was at a gathering last night with friends, looking at a letter the Apostle Paul wrote to friends of his at Philippi. It was not an especially cheery letter--Paul was in prison, the Philippians were feeling the heat from folks who weren't all that excited about their devotion to Jesus. Paul was trying to help them keep their emotional/spiritual boat afloat.
One line in particular caught my attention: "Do everything without complaining or arguing," he says. He had his reasons, but I didn't quite get that far. I was captivated by the concept of even going one day (let alone a lifetime) without complaining. Now, I'm a pretty positive person, and I left a career as a civil litigation attorney because I realized I hate conflict. So it's not like I head out each morning looking for battles. But somehow, they find me. If I decide I'm in the mood to complain, I can usually find plenty of material to work with. Do you ever feel that way?
As I thought about what this no complain/no argue idea might look like for me, I sensed that in this, God isn't asking me to go all Polly-positive, or ignore reality. If it rains, I think it's okay to say, "Wow...I really wish I'd thought to grab my umbrella..." And if something terrible happens--a breakup, a disappointment, something you hoped would work out didn't--I think it's okay to acknowledge that disappointment, and to mourn. What we want to avoid is complaining about the way things are in a broader sense--giving individual situations that hurt or frustrate us roots and vines that shoot through the rest of our lives.
Today, I'm going to try this. As we discussed yesterday, silence can be a powerful weapon in our spiritual arsenal. So for the next few h0urs, if I don't have something nice to say, I won't say anything at all. If nothing else, it should be interesting to see how that goes :)
Anyone want to join me?
One line in particular caught my attention: "Do everything without complaining or arguing," he says. He had his reasons, but I didn't quite get that far. I was captivated by the concept of even going one day (let alone a lifetime) without complaining. Now, I'm a pretty positive person, and I left a career as a civil litigation attorney because I realized I hate conflict. So it's not like I head out each morning looking for battles. But somehow, they find me. If I decide I'm in the mood to complain, I can usually find plenty of material to work with. Do you ever feel that way?
As I thought about what this no complain/no argue idea might look like for me, I sensed that in this, God isn't asking me to go all Polly-positive, or ignore reality. If it rains, I think it's okay to say, "Wow...I really wish I'd thought to grab my umbrella..." And if something terrible happens--a breakup, a disappointment, something you hoped would work out didn't--I think it's okay to acknowledge that disappointment, and to mourn. What we want to avoid is complaining about the way things are in a broader sense--giving individual situations that hurt or frustrate us roots and vines that shoot through the rest of our lives.
Today, I'm going to try this. As we discussed yesterday, silence can be a powerful weapon in our spiritual arsenal. So for the next few h0urs, if I don't have something nice to say, I won't say anything at all. If nothing else, it should be interesting to see how that goes :)
Anyone want to join me?
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Day 3: The perfect is on the way
We have to be careful what we say. Our words have creative power, and all too often I find myself talking about how all the things I'm most afraid of are true, while the things I want will never happen in a million years. Not smart.
I'd love to offer some grand plan for choosing our words wisely, but I'm no expert. One discovery I've made, though: silence works. Sometimes, it's all I can do to keep myself from playing along when someone declares definitively that "We're all going to get the flu this winter," or "There are no more good guys around." But what I CAN do in those moments is shut my mouth. I don't have to agree.
In my better moments, I'm able to say what I want (and believe) to be true: that my immune system works quite well and I'm not afraid of winter, for example; that God knows how many good guys are needed and has made enough.... But in areas where my belief-o-meter is running low, the least I can do is not add to the avalanche of fear and doubt swirling around in the world.
There aren't many things I "know for sure" (as Oprah might say). But I know that God has a plan, and things will work out well in the end. I have no idea how, or when. But that's okay. This is where today's quote comes in: "The walk of faith is to live according to the revelation we have received, in the midst of the mysteries we can't explain." (Bill Johnson). That pretty well sums it up.
The Apostle Paul wrote to the people of Corinth about the challenge of walking this line, being caught between prophecies--things we hear from God about what the present might mean or the future might hold--and the challenge to love in the midst of all the questions we still have. "Love never fails..." He says. "For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears." I don't pretend to know exactly what that means (Paul was a complicated guy) but here's one thing I take comfort in: God is love, and he won't fail. The perfect is on the way.
I'd love to offer some grand plan for choosing our words wisely, but I'm no expert. One discovery I've made, though: silence works. Sometimes, it's all I can do to keep myself from playing along when someone declares definitively that "We're all going to get the flu this winter," or "There are no more good guys around." But what I CAN do in those moments is shut my mouth. I don't have to agree.
In my better moments, I'm able to say what I want (and believe) to be true: that my immune system works quite well and I'm not afraid of winter, for example; that God knows how many good guys are needed and has made enough.... But in areas where my belief-o-meter is running low, the least I can do is not add to the avalanche of fear and doubt swirling around in the world.
There aren't many things I "know for sure" (as Oprah might say). But I know that God has a plan, and things will work out well in the end. I have no idea how, or when. But that's okay. This is where today's quote comes in: "The walk of faith is to live according to the revelation we have received, in the midst of the mysteries we can't explain." (Bill Johnson). That pretty well sums it up.
The Apostle Paul wrote to the people of Corinth about the challenge of walking this line, being caught between prophecies--things we hear from God about what the present might mean or the future might hold--and the challenge to love in the midst of all the questions we still have. "Love never fails..." He says. "For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears." I don't pretend to know exactly what that means (Paul was a complicated guy) but here's one thing I take comfort in: God is love, and he won't fail. The perfect is on the way.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Day 2: Maintenance
I'm still thinking about this boat imagery. When I was growing up, my Dad was a lobsterman. Every year around this time, just as the weather was warming up, Dad would pull his boat out of the water for a week to repair it. I never told him (I was a boy & makeup crazy pre-teen, so we didn't talk much about lobstering in those days) but that time out of the water always scared me.
Here's the thing: I've never been great at conceptualizing large numbers of anything, so I was a little fuzzy on how many lobsters he had to catch to keep a family of our size in back-to-school shoes. But it seemed clear that the number was HUGE, and that there were a finite number of crustaceans out there on the ocean floor for the catching. So taking his boat out of the water seemed absurd to me. Why risk a week of no lobsters? "So what if the paint on the hull is chipped and the engine needs tuning?" I thought. "The most important thing is being out there!"
Now though, I get it. (Dad has been retired for years, and I'm sure he'll be happy to hear that I've finally come to terms with the finer points of his profession...) If you don't take care of your boat, your whole operation is at risk. Wood rots, engines die...the cost of replacing things you haven't taken care of is far higher than a week out of the water. (BTW, I tried to get a picture of a boat in dry dock to illustrate this post, but mostly what I found was pics of boats run aground, which is an entirely different thing...)
Today, let's ask God if we need to pull our boats out for repairs. This might be literal--stepping back from our busy schedules for a few days to tend to our physical/mental/emotional/spiritual upkeep. Or it might be more of an internal thing, where we tweak some area of our lives that's showing signs of wear. Or--who knows?--some of us might be in great shape, ready to head out onto the seas and pull in a big catch. As we pray today, let's give God a chance to weigh in on that, and let us know what's going on under the water, so to speak, in the places we can't see.
(And out of the kindness of my heart, I'll spare you the Southern Cross video I'm watching right now, because I can't possibly keep up 40 Days of Boating Songs...and because I don't understand why Graham Nash, one of my favorite singers ever, is wearing that weird striped shirt?)
Here's the link to yesterday's prayer outline (scroll down to the bottom).
And today's quote is my all-time favorite, Jesus' reminder that "What is impossible with man is possible with God." Nice to know that if we need to take time out for repairs, it won't throw off God's plan.
Here's the thing: I've never been great at conceptualizing large numbers of anything, so I was a little fuzzy on how many lobsters he had to catch to keep a family of our size in back-to-school shoes. But it seemed clear that the number was HUGE, and that there were a finite number of crustaceans out there on the ocean floor for the catching. So taking his boat out of the water seemed absurd to me. Why risk a week of no lobsters? "So what if the paint on the hull is chipped and the engine needs tuning?" I thought. "The most important thing is being out there!"
Now though, I get it. (Dad has been retired for years, and I'm sure he'll be happy to hear that I've finally come to terms with the finer points of his profession...) If you don't take care of your boat, your whole operation is at risk. Wood rots, engines die...the cost of replacing things you haven't taken care of is far higher than a week out of the water. (BTW, I tried to get a picture of a boat in dry dock to illustrate this post, but mostly what I found was pics of boats run aground, which is an entirely different thing...)
Today, let's ask God if we need to pull our boats out for repairs. This might be literal--stepping back from our busy schedules for a few days to tend to our physical/mental/emotional/spiritual upkeep. Or it might be more of an internal thing, where we tweak some area of our lives that's showing signs of wear. Or--who knows?--some of us might be in great shape, ready to head out onto the seas and pull in a big catch. As we pray today, let's give God a chance to weigh in on that, and let us know what's going on under the water, so to speak, in the places we can't see.
(And out of the kindness of my heart, I'll spare you the Southern Cross video I'm watching right now, because I can't possibly keep up 40 Days of Boating Songs...and because I don't understand why Graham Nash, one of my favorite singers ever, is wearing that weird striped shirt?)
Here's the link to yesterday's prayer outline (scroll down to the bottom).
And today's quote is my all-time favorite, Jesus' reminder that "What is impossible with man is possible with God." Nice to know that if we need to take time out for repairs, it won't throw off God's plan.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Day 1: Where is your boat?
Happy 40 Days of Faith 2010! This is always an exciting time for me--it feels a little like back-to-school, a chance to start fresh and see what the new year brings. Never so more than this year.
For the past two years, I've flown into our June 1st start with wind in my sails, ready for adventure. This year is a little different. My sails aren't even up yet. In terms of faith (and to continue the sailing metaphor) I've seen a few storms, and my boat is a little banged up and in need of repair. So this year, for me, our 40 Days together feels less like charting a new course for lands unseen, and more like a safe cove were I can spend some time with God and ask him to patch my boat & sails back together.
It makes me think of the lyrics to The Wood Song by the Indigo Girls, describing the "boat" they find themselves in:
The wood is tired, and the wood is old...but we'll make it fine, if the weather holds.
But if the weather holds, we'll have missed the point.
That's where I need to go.
If you listen to the song, it's so powerful: it describes a certainty that our lives are unfolding according to a greater plan that we can understand, acknowledging that it takes a ton of courage to keep going. More than we think we have on some days. For this 40 Days of Faith, I'm asking Jesus for that courage. I'm asking for specific things, too...but it seems like the courage to get my boat back out into the water is necessary for all the rest.
I'd mentioned that I had an idea of how we might approach prayer, and I'll share it now. I discovered this a few years ago when I was new to the Bible, and was reading Psalm 40 in a panic, knowing I was supposed to teach on praying from the Psalms the next day and having no idea what I might say. As I read, a pattern emerged and I thought, "Oh...I can do that..." It's pretty straightforward.
First, read over Psalm 40.
Second, let's pray, using the same 7 steps as David:
1. Begin by recalling specific things God has already done to bless you.
2. Thank and praise God for these things, noting how His plans have exceeded your expectations.
3. Submit to God's will for your life.
4. Commit to glorify God publicly--in other words, to giving Him credit when He comes through.
5. Ask God to bless you with His mercy, and the protection of His love and truth.
6. NOW outline the troubles/hopes you need God's help with, and the specifics of what you are asking Him to do. (In our 40 Days terms, this is where we tell Jesus what we'd like him to do for us)
7. Acknowledge your lowly status before God (that He's God, and we're not), and that we are obeying His word by asking anyway. Ask that He act QUICKLY!
Amen!
I'll try to close each of our 40 days with a quote that inspires me. Today's is from Eugene Peterson:
"Prayer is the realization of personal powerlessness and, at the same moment, participation in God's power: I can do nothing, God can do anything."
That about sums it up. Here's to an amazing, awe-inspiring, surprising 40 Days of Faith! If you're in, drop a comment below. I think that helps with courage, knowing we're not in the boat alone :)
For the past two years, I've flown into our June 1st start with wind in my sails, ready for adventure. This year is a little different. My sails aren't even up yet. In terms of faith (and to continue the sailing metaphor) I've seen a few storms, and my boat is a little banged up and in need of repair. So this year, for me, our 40 Days together feels less like charting a new course for lands unseen, and more like a safe cove were I can spend some time with God and ask him to patch my boat & sails back together.
It makes me think of the lyrics to The Wood Song by the Indigo Girls, describing the "boat" they find themselves in:
The wood is tired, and the wood is old...but we'll make it fine, if the weather holds.
But if the weather holds, we'll have missed the point.
That's where I need to go.
If you listen to the song, it's so powerful: it describes a certainty that our lives are unfolding according to a greater plan that we can understand, acknowledging that it takes a ton of courage to keep going. More than we think we have on some days. For this 40 Days of Faith, I'm asking Jesus for that courage. I'm asking for specific things, too...but it seems like the courage to get my boat back out into the water is necessary for all the rest.
I'd mentioned that I had an idea of how we might approach prayer, and I'll share it now. I discovered this a few years ago when I was new to the Bible, and was reading Psalm 40 in a panic, knowing I was supposed to teach on praying from the Psalms the next day and having no idea what I might say. As I read, a pattern emerged and I thought, "Oh...I can do that..." It's pretty straightforward.
First, read over Psalm 40.
Second, let's pray, using the same 7 steps as David:
1. Begin by recalling specific things God has already done to bless you.
2. Thank and praise God for these things, noting how His plans have exceeded your expectations.
3. Submit to God's will for your life.
4. Commit to glorify God publicly--in other words, to giving Him credit when He comes through.
5. Ask God to bless you with His mercy, and the protection of His love and truth.
6. NOW outline the troubles/hopes you need God's help with, and the specifics of what you are asking Him to do. (In our 40 Days terms, this is where we tell Jesus what we'd like him to do for us)
7. Acknowledge your lowly status before God (that He's God, and we're not), and that we are obeying His word by asking anyway. Ask that He act QUICKLY!
Amen!
I'll try to close each of our 40 days with a quote that inspires me. Today's is from Eugene Peterson:
"Prayer is the realization of personal powerlessness and, at the same moment, participation in God's power: I can do nothing, God can do anything."
That about sums it up. Here's to an amazing, awe-inspiring, surprising 40 Days of Faith! If you're in, drop a comment below. I think that helps with courage, knowing we're not in the boat alone :)
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