A Different Approach

Look at fear in the face and move forward!  That's easy to chant or to sing in a crowd but most difficult to live day to day.  Yesterday reminded by Beth Moore via simulcast that fear is secret killer and that it is often invisible with a tremendous power to paralyze.  How this tune sings loudly in my head causing me to stand, cemented like stone.

Why haven't we taken the plunge?  Why am I not able to speak up?  How can the people ignore such?  Why do so many feel hopeless?  As I worshipped yesterday, in the comfort of a well air conditioned stadium-like center, coffee in hand, muffin on plate, I was deeply moved by where the modern church has mistaken disciple-like Jesus following ministry to safe head counting folks.  I think it was not the intention of church but slowly the comfort of being "the same" overwhelming the gospel and making very little room in the inn.

A close heart friend and I stood during prayer time, crying at the place the church has found its home.  A home where little interruptions occur and the smelly distractions of people who aren't "pretty" have a spot to sit or even escorted to the back row.  The mentally and physically challenged are escorted often to private rooms where their bizarre arm wavings or dancing won't again be a distraction.  The "pretty" people sit nicely looking similar waiting for worship to begin, hoping that nothing will surprise them.  It's all about expectations of the experience; what I am used to and prepared for.  Then at the awaited unspoken time, the silent internal bell rings, dismissing all folks to leave the way they entered, barely if at all changed.

Thank you Beth for challenging us to let the old self, the dead stinky self that was alive before my encounter with a Living God, be buried.  Stop making room for this extra weight; making excuses on his/her behalf.  A new life in Christ is just that!  New Life.  A new way to see the world and all its flaws.  Making welcome the stranger, no matter the smell or the color of skin or the piercings or tattoos that make me a bit uncomfortable.  Leaving God's work to God; just practicing being a vessel of love and no condemnation.  How can the brokenhearted know that God loves them Or believe us when our "tract" or light up sign in the front yard tells them IF we aren't willing to share our pew?  If we aren't willing to buy their lunch?  If their burden isn't sharable because it makes me afraid or uncomfortable?

Am I or are we really that conditional that fear of the different has that deafening power over us?  Am I more committed to the law of the land than to extend Love?  I guess so.  I see pods of folks chatting quietly, because loudly would be rude...like God can't hear gossip.  Really?  I am embarrassed at the ignorance our society has diluted God's power to free those in prison or give sight to the blind or free the prisons of the mind.  Do we or do we not believe that Christ died, shed God's blood, for every soul?

I am not satisfied but not angry.  I am committed to raising my children to be passionate to the world.  The world has nothing to offer when it comes to eternal things; it's my joy and responsibility to live life a LIGHT unto this dark world.  To preach good news to anyone who will listen.  Preaching by lifestyle, and according to Augustine using words sparingly.

Make welcome this day freedom under God's mercy table not a book of laws.  A place where all are welcome and not judged.  Leave judgment to God and let him do His work among us; we might find that our hearts are the ones in most jeopardy.  God is able to exceedingly above all we think or imagine begin and finish a work He has in store for us.

Marbles

Marbles...what do they have to do with faith.  Well I can't for sure what they mean literally but for one family (ours) they have meant great encouragement.  Weighted glass with terrific designs moving together offer relaxation and rest for our sweet Katie b.  It's really amazing to watch her play with them.  They are gathered in a giant blue bin easily accessible to Katie.  She dumps them onto the carpet and begins running her fingers over them and through them.  This weekend I paid close attention to her.

Question:  what does one do with thousands of marbles rolling on the carpeted floor?  Katie begins to sort them by her "favorites," gently moving her hand over searching for those same 100.  She sorts them into piles.  Marbles are cold to the touch; she knows the flat ones from the strange shaped ones from the round ones.  She feels for any nicks and if she finds one like that she gives the damaged one to us.  Getting rid of the damaged one is too painful for her so she asks us to please make it go away.  See getting rid of the chipped marbles is my insistence; I know she could cut her hands, otherwise Katie would have a special box for those marbles.

Usually I just hear the sound of marbles, touching one another as Katie sorts.  She's usually on her tummy or her knees so that her limited vision can see every detail, always noticing something different with an ordinary, not-new marble.  Everyday is new.  She starts over like she's not known these marbles, same pattern, same treasure.

I am deeply touched.  In this world where I hear daily, "I am bored or if I don't have electronics I have nothing to do."  Or "Mrs. Erwin please let me check my phone; I need it."  These comments remind me of some great need for the external; the instant gratification of information by the swipe of the screen. The need for identity to see who is "vining or tweeting" about me.  Why can't we be satisfied?  I am as guilty as any.  I love my phone.  That's an odd use of the word love but I am pretty connected to my information and apps I need to check.  Hear the words:  need to check, lost without, bored if I can't...

Then I watch Katie.  Now hear me, this girl LOVES electronics.  But her comfort is in the marbles.  Her greatest treasure is finding a marble that need a home, a home with her collection.  I watch her carefully, never tiring of the same routine, feeling the marbles, sorting them...then the magic happens.

Katie begins to make designs out of the collaboration of marbles.  Moving them with the palm of her hand, gently forming into designs.  It sound odd but it's actually artistic.  It's pretty neat to observe.  If you make yourself available to Katie, she invites you to see her creations.  She asks you to feel certain aspects.  But if you tire of the redundancy of the process, you will miss the moment.

Living with disability is most unusual for the disabled.  Let us not forget; they desire friendship, companionship like all of us, often living in a self-centered world seeking nothing but personal gain.  But they see and experience parts of the world with a freshness.  A unique lens and unless you "stop and smell the roses"- move out of the rush, you will be blind to.  This experience of watching Katie, getting on hands-knees seeing a glimpse of how she sees her marbles is just that, a glimpse.

Marbles are just a thing...a game of long ago.  For Katie b, they are her treasure.  The collection that each one of them has a special mark or sound.  In the busyness of life, it's hard to lend an ear or squint my eyes or stoop to see closer...see those moments are scheduled, planned or written in the calendar.  They simply happen.  Thanks Katie b for moment of solitude.

Who Am I

Who am I?  A question I see on a daily basis as teenagers rush the hallways, ear-buds in place, few smiles, fatigue dragging in the shadows.  Kind of makes you want to question, "Who Am I?"  These are the best years...what does that mean, actually?  It's all in the mind; it's all about choices.  Just make one.  But the indecisive shadow that lies in the grey area surrounds...I can see it on their faces, experience within my own heart some of the same in-between grayness.

Is this what the sum of life's parts equal?  I don't really think so.  Because I also see breakthroughs when good-rich discussion happens in a room of 21 young adults, not really grasping what life is but with "adult" bodies and clever minds...the dance begins.  If you can get beyond the awkward pauses, you can sway with different opinions and in freedom you experience a neat aura.  One that only happens with youthful inexperience yet a bizarre self-assurance.  If you are able to dilute the intensity of their passionate voices, they will compromise and listen.  They can move mountains.  They will follow your quiet lead, holding onto their strong opinions yet yielding to agree to listen or agree to agree or agree to disagree.

It's during those moments that time could be suspended.   The Who Am I? is not as obvious or really as important because the process of finding out and searching is what moves and provides energy.  You can witness what these young minds stand for, not just oppose.  You can see how they are mold-able.  I find a desperate sense to be heard.  It may be crazy, spontaneous opinions but once they've been heard, they are shapable.

Kinda weird this humanity...we over complicate things to our determent.  We agonize over the "dotting the i's and being correct" and miss the process.  The journey is the stuff.  It's the cream of the Oreo cookie.  The toppings on top of the sundae.  It's where the goods are.  The funny thing, too, is that during those times, all are created equal.

I wish for more of those moments.  All created equal.   No slanderous talk.  No defenses needed.  Just a wash of richness.  It's the moment that you experience the flooding of the Spirit in that secular room.  In that public forum, you experience the peace of the Father and He is completely welcome.

My dilemma...often in the confines of the the church, this is not the environment.  The least restricted spot to wrestle through the grayness  is simply not an option.  It's either black or white; no room for gray.  There is little space for the questions, mostly because we are afraid we must defend God and His presence.  Let us draw near to Him, he felt no need to defend himself, why are we so convinced that's our role?  How have we made the place of worship a wrestling match or a dramatic play area...always pretending.  Maybe we really need the "rote" beliefs so we feel secure.

Jesus doesn't seem to carry that intention.  He eats with the sickest, the loneliest, the most broken and offers to break bread with them.  He doesn't even "give them the business," he offers hope.  He says "You are not alone."  May we begin to reflect Jesus, not our insecurities or statues of faith.

Grace

"If it wasn't for grace"...the words to a song I heard sung on Sunday morning worship.  The words lead me to contemplate what if grace didn't exist.  Would the absence of love and grace be a place of hell?  Am I truly grateful for the component grace and it's impact in my life?

My Burundi friends describe small handful size portions of creamy-porridge enough to serve the whole family for a day, sometimes a week.  The food fitting inside my cupped hands, to feed my family.  Are you kidding? My children's eating habits don't even include porridge, much less sharing a scooped handful between us. Grateful?  Yes my friends have experienced an attitude of gratefulness.  They see grace with different lenses; glasses I haven't worn.

I am committed to not comparing suffering.  You carry the cross which you bear, grace is sufficient for your needs, not compared to others.  It's enough to restore, heal and burden-trade for the child who carries the burden.  It's my philosophy for raising my children as well.  We as parents try to prepare our children as individuals; not expecting "sameness" but developing the tools we can give according to their ability and need.  It's seeing the child before you see a template; it's not comparing.

Grace that's sufficient is suited for my needs, seen by God.  Shaped by His gentle hands to equip me for the journey.  It's when my energy is focused on what I don't have, compared to others or what I endure, compared to others that my soul begins to waste and grow weary.  It's the withering of a branch.  Barely hanging on with little life.

Therefore in need or in abundance, I will choose Joy.  I choose to allow the gift of a handful of porridge to meet my needs.  I receive grace for what it is, a free gift of  love by a God that walks close to me, desiring me as His beloved.  Thankful this day...

Get yourself together

Pulling myself together is a line that we hear in our culture.  On most days, it's not that big of a deal...you know you find yourself going through the motions and pulling yourself together is not a great feat.  But when the waters begin to run over you and you feel the foundation below you moving, a bit of fear sets in.  If you aren't able to move or shift your position, you will probably fall.  Water gets deeper, you shift positions without submitting to the current or rush of waves...hoping you can withstand the trial; then pull yourself together at end to stand erect again.

It sounds crazy as I write the words because my brain begins processing each part of the struggle.  While I am struggling, I am hoping for a mind is clear enabling me to  make sound decisions.  Not caving to the pressure of losing; while facing frantic panic and survival face to face.  Sounds like an intense oncoming rush of the unknown.

How can I prepare?  You cannot.  You simply pour solid particles in your foundation and hope that as the water rises or rushes, you will stand.  Pulling yourself together seems like the 'self-made man' and admired my many.  Although we rarely see the fear that might hid beneath the victory lap at the end.

Because it's not the strength of my "great self" but actually in my weakness.  It's when I feel I literally cannot move on or forward, God is able to do great things.  It's those times that I know my strength was not perfect, in fact it's unraveling.  God knits together a perfect peace to restore unto me the joy of knowing Him through salvation.

It's mysterious for sure.  It doesn't add up and cannot be "pulled up by your bootstraps" or bull-dogging your way through; it's the act of giving sight to the blind with mud-pies.  It's freeing the man with no way to the pool and making him whole.  It's redeeming the woman at the well without condemnation.  It's in the courage to lower your friend to the Jesus knowing HE will make a difference. It's crying out when the words aren't audible or understandable.

Create in me a clean heart.

Far More Than I Can Imagine

I find that questions rise in my heart about what's the meaning of all this stuff we live for, expect more of and experience disappointment in...is this really the life God described in Ephesians "far more than you could ever imagine or guess or ask for beyond wildest dreams?" (The Message)

I don't know that there is an answer but the wrestling of the questions is an example of "working out my faith."  The answer isn't promised but the wrestling is necessary for us to grow.  It's the unpleasantness of not having a clean-cut answer that draws me back to the well.  See the conversations at the well were significant. So often I find myself painfully going back to the well, either on foot or crawling because I feel overwhelmed with the life I parted with in hope that Jesus will serve living water.

The process seems redundant and our learning curve seems flat.  I can't help but laugh that God must have a terrific sense of humor.  We must exhaust him at times.  Yet He is the perfect parent, offering patience, kindness and love, all wrapped in grace and mercy that overflows our cups.  At the same time, His eyes reach deep within our marrow providing tender mercy to move forward.  I compare this to my ability or inability as a parent, so filled with weariness of the questions and often so limited on grace and mercy.

Thankfully God is patient as he ministers to me and speaks to me through His word, music, fellow saints on this journey, communion with God's people, driving through the mountains, hearing the ocean and the list goes on.  He restores my soul midst my enemies; He allows me to draw from him at all times, never growing weary.  His compassions never end and gratefully He is slow to anger.

I pray that I will never cease to ask the questions or wrestle with trembling the experiences of faith.  I pray that I will not expect the people of God, to be God.  That I will offer a safe table with many voices to break bread with and experience life together.  Praise God for many chances; as I am just a sinner saved only by His grace and live to share this Good News with all mankind.

I will pray for you...

We've said this statement as we pass someone in the hallway or while jumping in our car to run off to our next commitment.  We've thought this statement as we listen to a list of prayer requests.  Often we have good intentions yet coming up short as we wrestle the command to bear one another's burdens.

Going away to a family camp for families that live with special needs opened my eyes as I saw the body of Jesus alive among the community of faith.  Not in conventional ways or how I envision God to transform His people but very powerful.  Talent shows where teens recite Psalm 23 because of the great comfort they experienced through deep trials and heartache.  The applause of heaven as one tells jokes and does somersaults to a funny tune...a young lady paralyzed singing a favorite Amy Grant song; that's how it happened.  Free of charge.  No time limit.  Pure joy and lots of cheering.

I am sure Jesus meant for His kingdom to be a real party; one with great laughter, dancing and even tears. This party is what separates us from how the world offers contentment and joy.  The party is planned by and for Jesus, the God of love who is love.  The One who suffered so that we might have life more abundantly. Abundant living is not what most of feel as we tread through life wondering how will we pay the bills, how can face the 'bad news' expected from the next physician's appointment, how to provide for and live in this world.  Yet God has His sights on exceedingly abundant living, midst suffering.

He offers peace that passes in/through the face of death, relieving us any fear.  He sits quietly reclined at the table, seeing all our needs.  He walks calmly over the rough sea so that we will share our storm with Him.  Actually trading burdens so that ours will be light.  He shines through the darkest of nights replacing fear with confidence.  Like my pastor said today, "there is always room for hope with Jesus."  As you say "I will pray for you," take this privileged opportunity to heart.  Speak.  Say the words.  Let your groanings be made known.

For then we may experience this "little light of mine" so that all may see Jesus.

Searching for the Party

Imagine the party of Jesus, searching under the bridges, alleys and in the ditches...places we dread to go and try to avoid while moving in/out of our daily routines.  Yet, Jesus asks us to search those places in preparation for the party, a kingdom party.   It's ironic we spend our lives practicing the "right" way to throw a party, making sure our etiquette is in place...well the other kind of party is what I experienced this week at camp.

Our family said Yes to attend a week of family camp called, Camp Celebration.  At the last minute, we said yes, but inside scared to death of what we might see.  Camp Celebration was a place of respite for all of us who feel unseen, misunderstood and left out.  For our children who are "patted on the head" and classified as cute. It's for our typical kiddos who live this life 24/7.  These children are often lonely and feel isolated in the way their family rolls.  Again the question, "why can't be just be normal."

Camp Celebration is decorated with the love of Jesus, staffed by hearts that don't pretend to know but offer service.  It's a journey from the moment you arrive to the moment you drive away, one week later.  It cannot be described; it is an experience.  You are able to see where blind eyes see; dance where lame legs dance; sing where voices, misunderstood, are in fact understood.  It's truly like no other experience.

First humility is a must. When you humble yourself and your will, you find respite awaits.  There is no shame or condemnation of how your family looks or survives this rugged life.  There is on the other hand, acceptance.  There is love.  You begin to hunger for the deep things within, things you forgot you could experience. You have face to face conversations about struggle with no etiquette-censored answers.  I know it's hard to see by reading my insufficient words.  So close your eyes, breathe and ask God to let you see.

You can nap.  You eat without children, with other adults while listening to music.  You have sweet laughter and cry among new friends.  You imagine the suffering being children with special needs; but it's adults too.  Fathers who suffer from disease or mamas who sit in wheelchairs while leading their families.  This camp is for all of us.  The funny part is those of us without obvious need are more broken than those who cannot walk, see, or talk.  We together gain strength from each other, inside God's arms.  The week's journey is seeing great laughter and not caving under life's details.

The story of the paralyzed man in modern day:  young teenage boys planning to play paintball up a mountain; one boy, confined to a wheelchair disappointed b/c his body didn't meet the requirements.  The other young men carried him up the mountain and together they played paintball.  You see carrying a friend to Jesus isn't usually through a roof-top, but walking the journey.  When the game of paintball arrives, you work out of love to bring your friend to the center of the game.  With splattered t-shirts, applause of heaven occurs.  A young man's disability becomes the catalyst for love to connect.

A glimpse of Jesus.  

Hepzibah

Delight me Lord is what I ask...often half-way believing He will show up to do something delightful or that I will be so distracted, I will miss it.  Know the feeling?  Hepzibah is just that...God's delight.  It's been awhile since I have led a Bible study so I praying that God will lead and guide me as I prepare to teach Beth Moore's study on John, The Beloved Disciple.

As I dug through my notes from years ago, I realized Hepzibah was part of that journey.  Immediately, my heart was rekindled.  I remembered the days driving kids to school, asking the Lord for a delight.  Almost a dare...even when my belief was a bit on the unbelief side, God did His part.  So I have chosen to stir the soil of hepzibah and see what happens.

Delight me, O Lord this day.  I was returning home from a student's receiving of friends for her father who had passed away this week.  It was a privilege to be part of this intimate family time and to be part of that inner circle of events.  I decided in between storms, I would run into a thrift shop in town.  I found myself singing the hymns that played over the speaker and I bought a few note cards.  Turned from the counter and I saw Jack. The ladies at the counter said, "Jack sit down there."

I was compelled to ask Jack if his seat was comfortable.  He responded with affirmation and asked me to join him by sitting in the small white chair next to him.  I did.  I sat back, soaked in the moment of quiet.  The store was closing, storms brewing.  I said, "Jack I am tired tonight; I don't have a lot to say."

He smiled and tipped his UT ball-cap my way and replied, "That's okay honey.  They could pull the shades and we would just go to sleep, resting in these nice chairs."  I smiled.   Leaned back and rested a moment.

Jack said, "I was an orphan years ago, put on the doorsteps of the Children's Services building, frozen eyelids and frozen legs.  I think I might be a miracle or the Lord would have let me freeze to death.  And here I am."

I slowly looked at Jack, eye to eye..."Jack you've helped me this day, to rest.  Even if for one minute, I stopped and listened.  You were my hepzibah.  Thank you."  He smiled, tipped hat and said, "You gave me company; thanks for that."

Our ways parted.  We probably won't cross paths again but I am thankful in my running to and fro, I sat in the used chairs, marked FOR SALE, and experienced hepzibah, a delight from Jesus.

Ask, this day, for Jesus to delight you.  Make sure if the urge hits you, run in the thrift store and sit for a spell.  Jesus is waiting.

the bravest one

I saw a post today from a friend who displayed the most bravery I have seen in awhile.  My friend was being honest and reflective but what struck me the most was the amount of courage it took to say the words.  "Say the words mama" have become a theme this season.  Wonder why?  With everyone screaming about "their" rights and making public so many thoughts, I begin to question, "Where did privacy go?"

It seems to be a an issue of commitment.  Commitment to the body in which hears my voice and the commitment or dependence on the Lord that HIS grace will (surely) be enough, even if all or everyone else fails.  To live this out is often flooded with vulnerability; not knowing what others will do or say.   And often, as seen in the church, what is said in the whispers behind smiles.  It's always the aura that fills the hallways and hushes the spoken word but it is Loud, it penetrates.  How can something be loud and not be heard? Or silent and be 'screamed' where it's impossible to overlook.  We see it happen in a variety of circles and is most hurtful in our closest of communities.

Yet we still pretend and play the game.  When something strikes too sharply, we might disengage or slightly, quietly disappear.   The system at play continues to search for life-sources.  This aspect of community is dangerous but rarely addressed.  It just might hurt someones feelings or "call-out" the Pharisaical like behaviors.  Now we have no problems addressing the issues of others but let's not get too close to meddling.  I just might be convicted to my role in the communal sin.

If "it's" said just right and nobody gets hurt, I get my voice heard and hopefully the underlying message will be understood and translated into action.  As I write this, my words sound like code for a insular group...yuck.  But I know this is the case.  I have been on both sides, contributing to the success or well-intentions of both parties.  Fully committed to the system at play.

God, guard our hearts from being lured into this society of pretend, bathed in your name.  Guard our words/actions to be FULL of grace, when breathed by your breath, is sufficient.  Allow us to pour mercy and heap love again outsourced by your Perfect Love that casts out fear.  Give us courage, like my friend, to find community and lean into that community as we, followers together, lean into you.  May we hide together where you cover us by the cleft of the rock, instead of making our voices like clanging cymbals.  Together we will humbly fall at your feet, realizing WE are all separate from your image yet you carve us into your sweet family.  Amen.

Being a Friend

You've heard God is your friend.  Be a friend like Jesus.  Jesus, friend of Sinners...

Sometimes we use this type of language so quickly,  it seeps through our lips not really contemplating its origin or impact.  I am not convinced we understand most things we say; we might know the vocabulary and give insight intellectually but connecting words to the heart are often a skill we forsake learning.

Our youngest went with her Great-Aunt and her youngest cousin to Georgia.  It's the first time our baby, Sophia, has been away other than to Nana's without her siblings.  Having 4 children, there is little space or time to have "alone" time; Sophia enjoys her siblings and treasures the idea of never going to bed ALONE. Ha!  

Small vacation for two little people was just beginning.  Not till the end of day 1, did we talk on the phone.  I was upbeat and full of enthusiasm about having a hot-tub and lots of play time.  I could hear a tiny sniffle.  I tried to remain upbeat; but in a soft tiny voice I heard, "I am homesick, Mama."  I knew we were on a downhill spiral...4.5 hours from home and it's bedtime.

"Can I talk to Katie? and Lija and Daddy?"  Sophia's tiny voice asked.  I said, "Of course."  She and Katie talked for a moment and Katie tenderly shared how sorry she was that Sophia was sad.  She tried to identify with the homesickness feeling and realized she didn't know this feeling.  I listened.  Katie said, "Hold on a minute...Mama?  Have I ever had this feeling?"  I paused realizing she wasn't ever really homesick.  "No Katie I don't think so."  The conversation continued.  Katie displaying empathy and ending with I will pray for you...  

"Dear Jesus, Be with Sophia our little sister.  She is having a hard time on her vacation.  

Help to be happy and not be sad tomorrow.  And thank you that Nana will be there Tuesday.  Amen."

I was touched.  Elijah's conversation was next.  Sweet to the point still filled with empathy and ending with "I miss you Sophia."  Again Scott and I trying to stay positive and encourage Sophia that Nana would be coming Tuesday and she would get to go to the American Girl Tea Room.  We said goodnight and all ended well.

Today Katie said how much she missed Grace and Sophia.  She described our family as incomplete without them even though they would be home soon.  I first felt a bit sad because if Katie were "normal" she would be on the mission's trip with Grace.  She wouldn't be longing for playing pretend with Sophia either.  As that thought crossed my mind another intersected.  Katie has an insight to the slogans..."Jesus friend of sinners"  and loving your neighbor than I had experienced.  She didn't pretend to know Sophia's feelings of homesickness but listened and prayed on the spot with her sister.  She missed the connection of our "whole" family being under one roof.  Katie understands the language.

Thanks to those who cannot see, showing us the way.  For those who cannot walk, guiding us.  For those with sensitivity to their environment, modeling the greatest expression of empathy.  Walking the journey is not having all the answers or even knowing how to pray.  It's listening and saying the words, laying the burden for your friend at the feet of Jesus.

Closest to Jesus

"Put one foot in front of the other.."  It's a famous Disney tune but also our jingle to keep Katie walking instead of teetering side to side.  Her hips never formed in their appropriate place causing dysplasia.  She began walking at age 6; but passed the crucial time for hips to embed into their sockets appropriately.  It sounds pretty technical but I never was aware of how much intricacy it required for this body to be classified "healthy."

Turning 15 years old, new challenges old grief.  I find that loss of anything creeps back into lives and crosses the road at unexpected places. When on the journey, the rush of 'grief-adrenaline' washing a multitude of emotions at the same time requires me to adjust, take action and/or think clearly.  It sounds like a well-oiled machine but often I find myself sluggishly tossed aside the path, hoping for energy to regroup.

Sounds familiar to my faith experiences as Jesus intersects my planned thoughtful intentions, my dreams and the great adventure of riding in the carriage of my princess story.  I chuckle as I write this immature but realistic view.  Along this path, I find that every strategy I can revive fails.  At times, the pain or discomfort is eased but until I am face to face with the loss, I cannot move past.

Questions like "Why me?"  or "Why can't I move forward?"  "I did 'all the right' things and made good choices, but..."  It's not until Jesus catches my full attention, eye to eye, I cannot experience His sufficient grace and accept His mercies anew.  The renewal of mind offers a glimpse of hope.  It's the point like Elijah felt when nourished in the cave, almost giving up.  It's like I imagine Esther as she agrees to step foot into the King's office, uninvited.  It's the feeling of almost passing out but stepping one foot in faith.

Living with Katie's illness and disability comes in waves of grief, thankfulness and unexpectedness.  As I am changing, hopefully for the better, I am seeing the heart of Jesus is best seen through the broken. I was reminded this week as John The Baptist sent word to Jesus from prison, "Are you who you say you are?"  The answer most intriguing..."Tell John, the lame will walk and the blind will see."

To see Jesus and experience His heart, we must intertwine our brokenness with the unseen/misunderstood children of God for they are the marrow of His body.

"To Be or Not To Be"

Finding a place to lay my head...well according to Jesus, the Son of Man has no place.  Modeling after Jesus that puts my ambitious soul in a quandary.  How do I resolve my passions for living out the Christian life while living in a world absorbed with instant gratification and consumerism?  That's a tough place to be...I wouldn't say that in the western world we should forsake all material possessions yet the consumption of things is off balance.

Growing up in the church, I am familiar with traditions, committees, break-out groups, missions organizations, trips overseas and to the "poorer" areas of local communities...the list goes on.  We've had thoughtful  intentions about most of our planning; I am not saying that we've "done it wrong" in fact we've done many things with missions/evangelism/Bible study in spectacular ways.  I am cautious that we've turned our beliefs toward "ourselves" relying on our strength.  We live in a culture that celebrates self-sufficiency, strength and standing alone.  Then we gather ourselves in a community of faith, awkwardly not knowing how/where to fit in or be that community.

Finding community is a challenge but living within one is a discipline.  It's bearing burdens alongside others, sometimes just one other.  It's weeping when sadness overwhelms and partying like no tomorrow when small miracles or praises need to be celebrated.  It's like the joy the man, who Rev. James Forbes refers to as Long Time John, experiences at the pool of Bethesda.  Jesus didn't condemn.  In fact scripture says, "Jesus knew about this man...looked within his eyes (the lamp unto the body while asking ONE question)...Do you want to be well?"

Thanks Jesus.  You didn't blame me for sitting for 38 years, waiting.  You didn't criticize me or make me go through a penalty process.  Jesus you asked one question.  Long Time John answered when Jesus said "get up, take your mat and walk".  Long Time John did just that, according to John, "he immediately got up."  When Jesus looks through God's eyes, looking into our eyes...we aren't filled with shame.  We cannot help but answer in the community of the triune God and our-self..."Yes I want to be well and follow with immediate response."

Finding that spot within a group of Jesus followers is a challenge and it's an issue of humility, trust and vulnerability.  Start with God, Father/Son/Holy Spirit...you're not alone.  Then trust others to bear this life alongside you.  It may be sharing your supper with a neighbor, mowing a lawn, house cleaning, laundry, drinking coffee, playing a game or Slowing down to really see those we pass daily.  In lue of the most frequent responses "I'm busy" or simply don't want to see you, slowly ask God to whisper, nudge and He will guide your path, supporting you as you walk.

Say The Words Mama!

Today I am reflecting on our small group discussion from yesterday.  Little ones leading big ones.  It seems to happen so often when we remove ourselves ~ when we let go of the reins.  A very young soul sharing cookies with a neighbor, simply act of kindness, yes.  But God at work to unite two families, YES.  A connection that brought one woman, recovering from cancer to another.  All through the leadership of the youngest member.  Cookies, whispers of God's voice and willingness.

A very late night in a swamped ER, middle of downtown, young child, Katie, says "Hi Ma'am.  How are you?" Me, the mom, cringes.  (That woman is homeless and she looks very ill; maybe Hepatitis or something...better not get too close.  Katie please stop talking to her.) "Shh Katie, she is very sick and cannot look up, please don't disturb her."  (well meaning but my heart was a bit fearful of the situation)

Still waiting.  Katie speaks up again.  "Ma'am, Ma'am.  Are you sick?"  The lady moved a little but couldn't look up.  I looked down at my lap hoping we wouldn't make eye contact.  Katie said, "Ma'am can we pray for you?  Jesus loves you."  Inside I am feeling nervous and a bit aggravated.  The lady nodded to Katie's response.  I rolled my eyes.  "MAMA! Say the words for the lady."  Katie said loudly.  I quietly said, "Ma'am we will pray for you."

A minute passed.  Katie said again with arms waving back/forth, "Mama b  say the words now."  A stopped as a deer in headlights.  A decision to be made.  The woman tilted her body toward me.  Katie starring me down, waiting on the prayer.  I was embarrassed inside myself.  You mean I could take her request to my church, pray later for her needs BUT couldn't utter a word aloud.

I bowed my head in the dark ER waiting room.  It's not that anyone else heard me.  It was reaching out to the "least of these" on the spot.  I prayed a simple prayer and thanked God for Katie's leadership and ministry.

Katie's eyes don't work like ours.  She's cortically visually impaired.  Yet she sees into many souls.  That night, see could see 20/20 and I was blinded by pride.  My whisper became a request from a child.
"Say the words now Mama b!"

Stop this week and listen...quiet your planned activities and hear the smallest of voices.  It may be a blessing to be HIS hands/feet to the least of these.  I promise it will change our vision forever.

Listening...

"Just be strong, pray more, don't give up...you know God has chosen you special...He won't put any more on you than you can endure..."  You're familiar with these usually "well-meaning" statements that we toss at people as they struggle or attempt to live under as sufferings set in.  Reactions become a toss-back of slighted smiles or "yes I know" but deep within, thoughts circle in turbulence.  Why me?  How does God choose the Job's of this modern world and why do I feel so isolated?  Can I pray more?  Did Job pray more?  Well I am not Job, and I do feel like giving up.

As I have lived on both sides of this predicament, I am still shocked at how diluted we as Christians react to suffering.  We are so complex in making decisions such as how my money and time are spent...who deserves my gifts?  When it comes to suffering, we shoot from the hip such trite sayings and walk away as though things are sealed.  The deal is done.  I have done my part.   I can check that of my list and continue living my life. It's not a picture of compassion.  It skirts on being self-absorbed and shallow.

Yet, our model, Jesus, listened to the people he encountered.  He listened with his "whole" self, all in-totally present.  He stopped, slowed down and listened.  He responded with healing sometimes, mostly listened and gave great comfort.  Yes, He is God, but he came to this Earth to live among us and to resonate with our world, by the way, He created.  He came to sit with us, walk with us, live among us.  He created us in His image and set the pace for how we can live at peace, find hope and experience joy.

As smart as we are and with much reason, we complicate the minor things and slide through the heart of suffering.  We miss the people.  Jesus was pretty simple.  He welcomed the stranger, visited the outcast, shared a meal among the enemy and freed those without hope.  He met those sitting at the pools of healing and deeply looked into the heart of the man who had been in the same spot, probably for years.  He didn't condemn his position; he asked a simple question, "Do you want to be made well?"  He stopped time for a moment and saw the heart before him.

What if we modeled our lives after such simple grace?  What if we concerned ourselves with listening?  What if we just shut our mouths and stopped fighting for the who gets credit?  We just might see Jesus.  I cannot believe the model for living which Jesus lived is obsolete in my world today.  My faith is just that, built on unseen things.  A concept which my mind cannot comprehend yet why does my "heart grow weary and why do the shadows come?"  My answer...I know whom I have believed, that He is able...

I say this with a heavy heart as I see my own life...looking down scares me and the unknown creates panic.  But I must return to the well...so that I may not thirst again.

Sharing Christ

Tonight, we experienced a new concept with our church family...living the gospel.  That's the evangelism introduction.  Getting  know 4 people, not memorizing verses-following a plan, unless those methods work for you.  Simply living real life, honestly, with others.  Sounds pretty easy yet we live among communities that shame "not having it all together" or the appearance thereof.  The challenge is out...open your heart to love someone.  Be willing to be vulnerable; send a note or even chocolate.  :)  Just begin praying for these 4 folks, asking for nothing in return from them.  God is at work; He does the "fill-in" stuff as He celebrates partnering with us.

The children were making things out of clay that reminded them of God, as Sophia told us.
"Well what did you make, Sophia?"
"I made a cross because God died there for all of us.  Maxwell made a heart for God's love and Michael (a young man with special needs) made a ball."  The response in our car was quiet.  I giggled thinking how sweet.  Sophia said, "I know that Michael made a ball out of his clay because he was thinking of heaven."

Wow!   The example to love others is clear.  You see, the children will lead; we must be attentive to their examples.  We ALL have a story; it may not be not book-selling material, yet it's our story.  A story to share the Good News of hope.  Life is filled with suffering, brokenness and not having it all together.  We fight feelings of insecurity and disappointment that life isn't what we dreamed of or expected.

Sometimes coming to Jesus thinking we might overcome this lifestyle.  In reality, knowing Jesus in a personal way doesn't re-route us from these experiences. It does in fact give us peace that passes all understanding, opening doors of rest or strength of an eagle.

This week, pray for God to speak to you...let me experience this peace.  Let me be reminded of hope and good news.  You are as my Pastor said this morning "an answer to some one's prayer."

Finding God?

Why is that "you" seem to find or feel the Lord when you are out of your daily routine?  I mean if you live where we do~valley between the Great Smokey's, you feel the Lord when you hear the ocean roar.  Today, enjoying a gift at the beach, I walked with jacket, scarf, coffee in hand, yoga pants and hat...I walked past a huge jellyfish that had washed up the beach and a frozen crab, fully intact.  These creatures from the sea reminded me that God is divine, the creator of everything.  As I walked slowly, sun shining, brisk cold air slapping against my face...I experienced rest.  A quiet moment of rest.  Ahhh...I felt it.                              

It had been awhile I internalized.  Why is it that I must be here, the place I do not reside...to experience this moment?  It doesn't even need to be warm; but I realized the moment and how I missed it.

Refreshment.  I thanked God.  Smiled and walked on.  Pondering this experience, I knew I must put ":pen in hand" and write.  Maybe it's like Elijah deep in a cave, no room for anything else but Elijah's will to "give up" and to collapse beneath his fatigue.  Rest and nourishment came.  Jesus parted heaven to walk this Earth, dirty feet, visiting with ungrateful people, resisting temptation...the angels came and nourished his soul.  He must have needed it; if not only to show us how much we NEED Him.  Take Hagar, the servant of Sarah.  Serve my husband and give him a son; she obeyed.  Son is born.  Sarah became jealous and exiled Hagar to the desert with son in tow.  Forsaken, yes!  God appeared, giving hope.  Jonah, a strong-willed prophet, willing to proclaim God's message anywhere, well, except to "those folks in Nineveh."  God said go.  He visited the sea~was thrown up to find himself sitting outside the city under a weed for food and nourishment.

So today, lean in close.  Shhh.  Quiet.  Listen for the Word to become real.  Thanks to those who loaned a car for us to travel, gave us "collected change" to spend and gift cards for food...mostly for loving us.

Love Day...

Approaching Valentine's Day...sometimes I despise the holiday system we wrap our lives around.  We celebrate a seemingly "sweet" concept but so many folks dread the day of celebration. As I teach and involve my world with teenagers  I see many of them filled with anger, resentment and hopelessness.  Celebrating days like this don't hold "real" meaning; they seem to be about purchases for someone disguised as a true friend or dating partner.  The relationship has a foundation of mistrust, control, artificial love~acting as the real deal.  But these young people are scrambling, in search of LOVE.

Love.  Sounds simple yet hidden from so many.  We speak of love being Christ and what makes the world go round.  We sing songs about it, run through fields of flowers in pursuit of it....yet we are living in this fast-paced world coming up short on Love.  I see anger abiding, short fuses and lots of anger management contestants.  As students in my classes talk, I listen.  They describe the anger they feel toward selfish parents that can't seem to get along or fight all the time.  They are angry at dads being drunk and needing their "care."  They are working jobs where they are required to close, leaving no time for homework, rest, or adequate sleep.  They are tired.  Tired and angry.  Now it's not all teenagers but many.

As I teach, I find the subject is irrelevant   The classroom is the venue for safety and Love.  A place where a voice can be heard, opinions wrestled through and Love triumphing.  I find when that's accomplished, any subject can be taught.  Any child can learn and progress made.  Kinda makes me sad and happy wrapped into ONE emotion.

The idea that young lives are empty.  That adults who should have been taking care of them, fail them daily.  That life is unfair.  Even though we say "winning isn't everything; it's how you play the game," at the end of the day, the score has a party for those with a higher number.  How does Love prevail when hearts are so empty and lonely?  I am convinced as Jesus says that He is Love.  He is alive within us; therefore, we are the LIGHT to this dim world.

As I stand in hall duty, take roll, lead discussions, I have the power to share LOVE.  I have the power to let my light shine so that all can see true Love.  A love that draws the lonely to itself.  A love that doesn't control and live for power.  A love that listens.   A love that's in the present...that never fails and offers restoration.

Be light and love...everyday, for it's the day which God has created.

Mercies Anew

Some days are hard to see "new mercies" and finding that place where we can lay our burdens seems impossible.  YET God's word reminds us of this very thing of trading in our burdens, finding rest and seeing new mercies each morning.  Yet as life slings itself at us, I struggle walking that path of faith.

Combining my learning styles and after reading The Last Sin Eater by Francine Rivers, I began a sketch in my mind to understand the idea of new mercies, daily. Set in the Appalachia mountains, young Cadi, wrestles the "systems that rule" her community.  She challenges the fierce hold which these rules/costumes trap a village of people.   It's a difficult story to relate to and comprehend but as I moved through the pages, the story began to penetrate my heart. Both the dialect and culture awkwardness faded as the message of Cadi's journey challenged my faith and understanding of God protecting me and offering His hand of provision.

My eyesight is irrelevant because this type of belief comes from within.  "The eyes are the lamp to the whole body," bringing understanding and clarity.  As Cadi runs from the feared community beast, protector of secrets, she finds herself trapped.  No options.  She's caught and facing this "giant" will end her life.  At that second, she cries to God...

She kneels behind a low rock, offering little coverage, yet as the predator walks beside her, he cannot see her.  His eyesight cannot penetrate the covering of God's hand, the cleft of the rock.  Cadi was panting as she feared for her life, close enough to touch the feet of the one who was trying to claim her life.  Why couldn't he see her?  God's word became real...hidden by the cleft of the rock, totally safe from harm.  Creates a vivid picture of "reclining midst my enemies" and other Old Testament imagery in unique ways.

As cheesy as this sounds, I identify with  Bob Ross on PBS, for those of you who are my age, you know this artist.  Big hair, soft voice and painting scenery.  I amazed at his gentle style and how the seemingly thoughtless strokes or "dotting" of the brush can create a beautiful picture.  My understanding of facing fears and confronting my enemies makes way for God' safety within my own life.

Like Cadi, when the predator leaves, I wonder, "Will he return?  Where do I go now?"  But God takes these "dots" of paint, step-by-step to make my path straight.  Overwhelming, yet amazing.  Thanks God for this day, in which you have provided full bellies, singing in my heart and hope in the face of many unknowns.