Adventure Afoot

God is up to something, that is for certain. In my weariness today, I was challenged to run to Him with much larger questions than the ones I've currently been asking about where I'm going to live as of next week.

"What are you doing in the future?" The question came from a trusted source.
I responded quickly, "What? I don't know... Like what am I 'doing'?"
"Yes..."

I next uttered words that have been in my heart, but wondering how practical those realities sound when spoken aloud. Intangible 'somethings' and purely thoughts at the moment, but I think they're formulating into something very real. This idea has been mulled over and prayed about and questioned in my own mind and heart for nearly three years. I'm asking it again; in a way, it's exhilarating. Yet in another, terrifying. Mostly because it's not just that I've considered it, but others have, and in increasing numbers, over the course of those years.

"What if ... ?" -- I wonder.

Making a decision of this magnitude in the way of releasing the hope for home, to be ready for whatever might be, is stirring a deeper contemplation in my soul today...

And I ask, "Will You go with me, Lord?"
If He does, then I can do anything.
I can do absolutely anything.

The larger questions at stake are these:

Will I open these palms and relinquish my ideas of what this needs to look like to free fall into His plans for me?

Do I really want what is great, what is LIFE, so badly that I refuse to settle for my version of comfort and safety?

Will I choose to hope in Him, not in the things I can see and control?

Do I trust His heart and that He has good in store for me (good beyond what I could dream up in my frailness and need and poor imaginations)?

Will I truly allow Him to be my home, my place of safety and my refuge?

You can pray for me. Meanwhile, I'm going to walk this path with Him. I think this is the most significant decision I can make in this season of my life--at least as I'm able to view it today.

P.A.I.N.

"Pain is one of the fastest routes to a no-frills encounter with the Holy, and yet the majority of us do everything in our power to avoid it."

--Barbara Brown Taylor, An Altar in the World

Boy is she right. How often do I run, no sprint, from anything that hurts? The answer, if I'm honest: daily. Every day I have an opportunity to engage with something in my life that aches--sometimes I choose into the reality that it's truly better to deal with it and other days I don't. Yesterday was one of those days where I determined to dive in.

I've been sad about a few things in my life recently. Newer pieces of pain have only served to bring to light years of that same hurt that have acted as the building blocks making the fresh object seem even larger and more important. I decided to sit in the stuff in the early evening and pulled my turquoise journal from my bag, carefully laying the pages open to an empty slot. As I began to write about desire, my emotions went from numbness, to grief, then on to anger. I raged at the Lord for a few minutes, verbally spewing the truth at Him--the literal truth from His very own mouth--and felt my disgust rise.

Guilt permeated my soul as I did so, but God gently reminded me that He could handle it. I wept in my bitterness. Knowing that I had yet another choice in moving forward, I grabbed my Bible and turned to a familiar, yet dusty book. Song of Songs. Strange to read this book on love when I was feeling as I was, but I read it through (even the footnotes). After that, I turned to I Corinthians 13 and read about love there, too. 

Softened, I returned to the pages of my journal and reached back out to the Lord. Ultimately, nothing was resolved in this endeavor, but I did recognize something vitally important: He is who He says He is, therefore I must trust. It is not simply an option, or a nice notion, or a thing to pacify the pain. He is real. His love is true. And even in the longing, some things do not change. He does not waver. He wants all of me. Right now, that feels mean.

Suffering from a bit of an emotional hangover today, I acknowledged in the weariness that He is kind. And, if I want a real relationship with Him, this is the type of encounter that I need to embrace more often. I just wish it didn't hurt so much... But then again, don't we all...

Change Happens

I like change. Actually, yes, it’s true—I’m one of those people. Perhaps it’s the feeling of constantly being in motion toward an adventure of sorts or a necessary variety I require that leads me there regularly. I think life would be rather boring if things always remained the same. All of that said, over the past decade I’ve learned that while I welcome, even need change, I must have ample opportunity to process big adjustments. In fact, understanding that has brought tremendous freedom to my life--and likely those in or around my life. Before I knew this, I never ‘got’ why I’m so quick on my feet with most decisions, but needed major time to deliberate (mostly with myself) other considerations. 

Today, my friends and I learned that we have to move. Our landlord decided to move back into the house for a variety of reasons which is completely acceptable; the only thing is, I’d asked him numerous times over the past several months what his thoughts were on reissuing a lease. He kept putting me off (maybe he really didn’t know) and I continued to wonder. Prior to moving here, I negotiated contracts on a regular basis so when he continued to be non-committal, I felt very unsettled. Now I know why. Call it a hunch or that I felt it in my gut, but here we are thirty days out and in need of a home.

Beyond that simple reality, I’m disappointed. I love this house, neighborhood, the access I have to people and things to do nearby. I love the relationships I’ve built here and the ability to quickly connect with friends who live within minutes. I’ve viewed this as a place to minister and reach out—it has become that in more ways than I can count. I love how my furniture fits here and the way that we are in the middle of everything, but had tremendous privacy. It sounds sappy, I know, but it was like a dream come true to live here—truly, my very own version of “Cheers”—I’d longed for a place like this since I lived in Boston and what a sweet gift it has been.

It’s not to say that we won’t find another place in the neighborhood or within close proximity. If we did, I’d be thrilled. That, too, is not a guarantee, but even if it turned out that way, one truth remains: it won’t be this place; it will be different. Things are changing. In fact, as I processed some of these thoughts with one of my roommates today, she said, “It is a big deal. You didn’t choose this…” Such a simple truth… I didn’t choose this, rather, it was chosen for me. I guess that’s what is making it harder. 

Maybe that’s why the tears came when I forced myself out of the house to pick up a couple of things at Target. Tears welled on the drive there, I mostly kept them at bay in the store, but the dam broke on the way home. I bawled. Not just a dribble, but the kind of sobbing where you make the weird wheezy breath noises (and I have a hefty head-cold to boot—pretty, huh?).  I told the Lord how sad I am and about my disappointment. I also told Him that I trust Him. He knew this was going to happen. He knows where we’re going to end up and I know that He’s good in this place. I’m just really, really sad.

As all of this was unfolding, I realized that part of the reason I’m sad is because I planted myself here—in this house, in this neighborhood. I’ve always loved that passage in Jeremiah 29 when the Lord tells the children of Israel to settle into life where they’re at—build houses, settle down, plant gardens, marry, have kids, work for the good of the cities (and they’re in captivity!). He wants them to live where He’s placed them. I guess I’ve done that again here—settled in, made this home. Somehow it doesn’t lessen the pain of being uprooted. And, that’s where I’m walking by faith tonight. Ready to be replanted wherever He deems best in thirty days or less … Here we go…

Promises, Promises

I was reading Hebrews 11 the other day.... The Hall of Faith. It struck me again, as it always seems to do, that those mentioned believed God. Most never saw the Promise fulfilled, but they believed Him for it anyway. Driving through a horrible storm last weekend, I reflected on the quickly changing circumstances of life. We really don't know what our days or our tomorrows hold. But, He does. I've rested in that reality for months now and here He has me, sitting with the truth again.

On the drive, the storm finally passed and there they were--two rainbows brilliantly displayed across the sky. I remember saying, "You keep Your promises; You keep Your promises." Tears filled my eyes as I reflected on a prayer a friend prayed over me in early June before I left for my summer assignment. Not knowing why, she asked God to fulfill the promises He had given me. Her prayer struck a deep chord and I cried. I told her, "That's so in line with what He's been asking me to trust Him with again--thank you for listening and praying that for me."

Honestly, I've allowed that 'thing' -- remembering what He wants me to remember -- to fall to the wayside this summer. He provided a storm and a double rainbow (not to mention a Journey song playing on the radio in that *very* moment-- "Don't Stop Believing'" -- it likely sounds so silly, but a dear friend of mine declared that as our theme song this spring for a number of reasons...) to remind me that I'm supposed to remember. He wants me, in the same way as those people in the Hall of Faith, to believe Him.

Why is it so hard to do?

None of those individuals were able to choose the outcome of their belief. They were simply faithful in their belief.

Period.

I'm struck by their, well, for lack of a better word, FAITH.

So here I am in Colorado waiting on Him, trying not to push the hard things away, listening, remaining hopeful, seeking to be open, and believing that He keeps His promises.

Summer Night Reflections in Colorado

Were it not for grace
I'd walk in vain

Were it not for hope
I'd think this was Home

Were it not for love
I'd stay the same

Praise God Who IS
I'm not alone

I Almost Gave In Today...

There have been subtle moments over this past week that have brought me back to the place of proof.

"Provide proof that you're worth it."

"Provide proof that you know what you're doing."

"Provide proof that you have something to offer."

"Provide proof that being where you're at in the process is enough."

"Provide proof that you're in this with them."

I feel taxed reading that list. These are the messages--in my head and in my heart. Something inside of me stirs in the reading, hearing, living of these things--weariness. Each sentence loads another baggage of burden on this back of mine that's still in route to healing. Internally, the weight crushes my hope and I loose my ability to really see under this pressure. And, I almost decided to be blinded by these fiery darts today.

Sitting in a meeting this afternoon, I felt my heart waver as the load increased. I wanted to flee. I literally imagined myself running from the room. My face fell and I could feel it happening. I felt unseen, disconnected and wondered why I was there. Then I saw it--I understood what was happening to me. I prayed.

"God, this is the me from a short while ago. I know that I'm Yours. I know that I'm loved. I know that I don't have anything to prove here. And, it doesn't matter what is seen... I know I belong to You."

I'd like to say that I felt complete freedom, but I didn't. A minute later, however, someone spoke up and brought me in to the conversation. Kindness. Grace. Mercy for the moment. Yet, it was very hard to receive. Unknowingly, almost absently, I had already maneuvered myself away; the walls came up instinctively.

And now I sit here, recognizing it. I've actually been positioned under these statements as they've been building, one upon the other, for seven days. In a way, I have bought in, but there's a gift in here to be realized... I saw it today. I understood. The scales fell. I asked for help. He provided a piece of grace. And then, with fresh eyes, looked back on the burdens of the week and 'got it'. 

I Came Home Today...

Never could I have imagined the way that this place, my current hometown, might have weaseled its way into my heart. In fact, just a couple of weeks ago, my parents reminded me of my attitude toward the place when I was newly a 'resident' (I put that in quotes given my thinking that this was only a 10-month assignment away). Dislike would be a generous way of saying what I communicated to them during that season. And, funny enough, I don't even recall what I felt or thought at the time. I was angry at the world back then.

Today, having been working on location for almost a month, I felt almost giddy arriving at the airport. My flight was delayed (isn't that how it should go) and my anticipation of stepping onto the soil of what I like to term my "tropical" homeland grew. How I've missed it! Not just 'it', I suppose, but them, too. I've missed my friends, my house, neighborhood, routine and even that heavy, humid air. Longing has replaced my groaning for direction and clarity--desire to be here, fully present in my life in this way. I mean, I was excited driving on the tollways for goodness sake!
 
Equipped with only a few days before I fly back to my work, I plan to soak this up and rest in the present reality that I'm loving my life these days. The funny thing is, it's so unexpected to relish it as I do, but at the same time, it seems to make perfect sense. Like most humans, I imagine that I don't really understand what it is that I need, yet here I am, living in the midst of what I need. Leaving it again will likely serve only to increase my appreciation. What a sweet, sweet gift He's given me in this life...

I'm supposed to be finishing a Field Guide right now...

At least I've made a few notes? Tucked away in my office for the summer, everyone else seems to have gone. My energy is low and the week has been long, but I'm celebrating (and it's not even Friday!). I've seen something in myself these past two weeks that I'm astounded by and gratefully embracing... I am depending on Him.

This is new for me in my work life. I have chosen to stop, to rest and to let some things go.  New eyes are seeing with fresh perspective that I do not have to carry it all, nor can I, and I take joy.

There's a certain sadness in the backdrop of my days that has nothing to do with life here and now. Even in that, I'm resting. He's showing me His love, faithfulness and kindness in that place. What's more, I am choosing to receive it.

And, in His goodness, He has entrusted me with the care of some pretty remarkable people. Both friends and colleagues, in fact. I'm savoring the moments where I realize that I'm not where I once was and those things, the yucky things, that He has brought me through have allowed me to speak to places in the lives of others that I could not have understood had it not been for the mess.

Wow.

It's the Small Things

At the end of another long, but good day that has left me with some important things to consider, I felt a pull to take a moment to engage in today's devotional from Joy & Strength (compiled by Mary W. Tileston) in spite of my weariness. This last entry of five for June 16 was the perfect, most timely reminder:

"I hope you will learn, what I am always hoping to learn, to rejoice in God continually, knowing that He is really ordering all your circumstances to the one end of making you a partaker of His own goodness, and bringing you within His own sympathy."

--Thomas Erskine--

I needed these life-giving words tonight... Badly.

Why Are We So Afraid of Being 'Found Out'?

Truly, it's scary stuff to open ourselves up to being known. What if they don't like what they see? What if they discover things about us of which we ourselves are unaware? What happens then?

Last night, Cole began a new series called, "Fully Mature"--in the opening dialogue, he talked a lot about spiritual infancy. There is a place in life to be an infant. We all start there, after all. We come into the world dependent and needy. Actually, we leave much the same (if afforded a long life). Yet, spiritually speaking, we encounter challenges if we remain in infancy. We are pre-occupied with ourselves and we lack discernment.

I'm certain that we've all injured people in our immaturity and have also been on the receiving end. No fun. In fact, quite painful, really. Thinking about this more today, I wonder, "Why do we avoid seeking to grow in maturity when we see or learn that we're hurting others in a particular area of life?" I mean, what's in it for us?

As I've been considering the need in my life to become even more vulnerable, I understand the hesitation to really go 'there'. Dealing with our pain (especially when we've completely disconnected from it) is frightening, but it's also completely necessary to our health and healing. To blame-shift the responsibility away or ignore that there is a problem will only lead to further wounding of ourselves and others. Is that a risk we're willing to take?

Cole continued to remind us last night that we must choose into vulnerability before God and people in order to grow in maturity. I like to think of this as growing in wholeness. God wants us to be whole people! Fully restored, healed, living in freedom and equipped to bring His love and His light to the lives of people around us. I want to be that kind of person... Who's with me?

Safe, Safe, Safe

I cannot get over the goodness of God. The way He continues to speak directly to my fears, my lack of trust (in others and, this might sound strange, in myself --not belief in myself, rather a trust that I can be confident in two specific areas in life presently) and my longings is completely remarkable. Today, He led me here...

Psalm 16 continues to reinforce the message He has been telling me for months--He's got me! I'm safe!

I cannot hear it enough right now.

Psalm 16

A psalm of David.

 ¹ Keep me safe, O God,
      for I have come to you for refuge.
 ² I said to the Lord, “You are my Master!
      Every good thing I have comes from you.”
 ³ The godly people in the land
      are my true heroes!
      I take pleasure in them!
 ⁴ Troubles multiply for those who chase after other gods.
      I will not take part in their sacrifices of blood
      or even speak the names of their gods.
 ⁵ Lord, you alone are my inheritance, my cup of blessing.
      You guard all that is mine.
 ⁶ The land you have given me is a pleasant land.
      What a wonderful inheritance!
 ⁷ I will bless the Lord who guides me;
      even at night my heart instructs me.
 ⁸ I know the Lord is always with me.
      I will not be shaken, for he is right beside me.
 ⁹ No wonder my heart is glad, and I rejoice.
      My body rests in safety.
 ¹⁰ For you will not leave my soul among the dead
      or allow your holy one to rot in the grave.
 ¹¹ You will show me the way of life,
      granting me the joy of your presence
      and the pleasures of living with you forever.

(Thanks Bible Gateway for this NLT version of this Psalm!)

Beautiful by Phil Wickham

While doing fairly normal and mundane tasks this afternoon at one of my favorite non-office spots--clearing my corporate ministry expenses and cleaning out the mess that is my inbox--this song streamed across my Pandora station. I was reminded to continue to hope, persevere and look to that day (though, I don't think it's tomorrow like that one guy is saying : ) ). I cannot wait to see Him face-to-face... Sweet moments with Jesus in this not-so-ordinary day living life with Him...

If you've never heard this song, it's a must listen! Here's the live version via YouTube:



Beautiful (lyrics)
by Phil Wickham

I see Your face in every sunrise
The colors of the morning are inside Your eyes
The world awakens in the light of the day
I look up to the sky and say
You're beautiful

I see Your power in the moonlit night
Where planets are in motion and galaxies are bright
We are amazed in the light of the stars
It's all proclaiming who You are
You're beautiful, You're beautiful

I see you there hanging on a tree
You bled and then you died and then you rose again for me
Now you are sitting on Your heavenly throne
Soon we will be coming home
You're beautiful, you're beautiful

When we arrive at eternity's shore
Where death is just a memory and tears are no more
We'll enter in as the wedding bells ring
Your bride will come together and we'll sing
You're beautiful, You're beautiful, You're beautiful

I see Your face, You're beautiful, You're beautiful, You're beautiful
I see Your face, You're beautiful, You're beautiful, You're beautiful
I see Your face, I see Your face
I see Your face, You're beautiful, You're beautiful, You're beautiful

To Tell The Truth

My small group just finished our study of II Samuel tonight and I thought I'd post what I related to most about this narrative... We've been studying both I & II Samuel since August--a super rich endeavor! On to the thoughts:

There is a low-grade sadness I experience as I view the life of David in this book of the Bible. There is no doubt that he has an intimate relationship with God--David knows God. But, as we see David stepping out of God's best for him (by sending the troops off to battle without him) and the ensuing adultery with Bathsheba, plotting the murder of Uriah, her husband (once David discovers that she is pregnant with his child), death of their baby boy and the other consequences God issues for David's family life thereafter, we see a man who, in the wake of these circumstances, chooses passivity on a regular basis.

As a woman, there is something that stirs inside of me in the face of passivity. It's not pretty. I want to take control. Welcome back to the Fall... And, from my birds eye view thousands of years after-the-fact, I find myself feeling rather angry at David for his inaction when it comes to his family from this point on in the story. He seems to give up on fighting for them.

He doesn't stand up for what's right when one of his sons, Amnon, violates his daughter, Tamar. He doesn't stand up for what's right when another son, Absalom, takes justice into his own hands, killing Amnon for the crime committed against his sister. And, initially, he doesn't even take proper action when Absalom later tries to overthrow him as king. Amazing stuff, really.

(Not to mention this passivity being passed along to Absalom who tells Tamar to keep quiet about the whole thing--"Family Business" he said...)

God promised consequences, but David also failed to live righteously before his family and ultimately the Kingdom in these instances. He failed them. Along the way, David had some friends speaking the truth into his life. I loved and appreciated their influence. They chose to say, "Hey David, you've really messed up here!" And, he listened!

He did have a teachable and tender heart. We knew there were reasons God called him a man after His own heart, right?

The thing that stands out tonight is the ability that we have to bless people through proper action or wound them through passivity. The last several months of my life have been marked by these two things. I have experienced tremendous blessing at the hand of friends who chose into action (at times prayerful action) on my behalf. I've felt fought for and loved. In another relationship arena, I've been wounded by passivity. Inaction has left me feeling like my heart is a bit of a commodity being traded to satisfy someone else's underlying need. I respond and that must feel good to others, but I feel hurt when it seems like my response, not me, is the endgame. And, at the end of the day, I feel vulnerable and used.

Another side to the passivity issue is seeing good friends standing by playing witness to some of the things that have transpired and hearing them blame-shift behavior away or fail to challenge those people in what is true and good. Sometimes, I think that hurts more. We see things happen and do nothing. Perhaps we don't know what to do, but it doesn't change the reality that we're taking a backseat to the issue at hand and no one is required to grow in the process.

Of course, this all has me thinking of the ways I choose into passivity in my own life. There are a couple areas that come to mind immediately and I am responsible before the Lord in those places. I guess the bottom line is that I want to be a person that tells the truth. I don't want to pretend. And, I hope that those who care for me will love me enough to tell me the truth when I need to hear it, too.

May this life and the way I live it bless others, not wound them further.

How Else But Through A Broken Heart...

All is Said, Now I'm Done

The rain has washed away

clusters of a thousand thoughts

revealing a spoiled care

and so,

I’m moving on

I’ve said my piece

   to myself

      quietly on car rides

        canopied by lovely trees

Prompted by the beauty of 'being'

Appreciating: I have nothing to prove

I am this

I am not another

He calls it good

Finding release in the surrender

      of hopeful glances, taps, words

           each uprooted quite simply

                   action neglected

                   my hope deferred

But now I choose health

       In place of dis-ease

Palms wide open

     postured to receive

Yet waiting in motion (I cannot shake this directive)

    Around the corner sipping coffee

    Traversing concrete blocks
    Maneuvering myself toward warm sand,
          sweet glimmering vastness of shore and sun

       taking in 

          sights

          sounds

          people

          places

    Laughing until my stomach lurches

   

All the while

living 

this 

life

in a Presence so Abundant

                                  Satisfying

                                           Protecting

                                                       Good

Lost in FRESH considerations

Encountering DELIGHTED faces

Sharing NOVEL moments

that leave me with love,

not breadcrumbs.