The Art of Letting Go...

Tonight I experienced the washing of feet as Jesus demonstrated many times using this image as a picture of deep love.  As we are experiencing death with my granddaddy in a personal intimate way, I am reminded of Jesus.  An epifany of sorts...

Granddaddy has pulmonary fibrosis and has been actively living his life until it came to a halt this past week.  The fibrosis masked in pneumonia stopped him in his tracks, robbing him of his legs and zapping his energy.  We all rushed to the side of grandmother while holding his hands...praying for some suffering-free miracle.

Reality.  He isn't going home, the the home on Sevier Avenue anyway, and must stay in the hospital till Jesus calls him.  In this time of grief, we've been granted a gift.  A gift of presence and conversation.  Midst the Lysol smelling hospital room, we are communing together as a family.  The great grandchildren have been to see him...in their own ways saying goodbye, singing songs, telling stories, playing music and retelling jokes.  The grandchildren- me, Michael and Jen - have reminisced about riding motorcycles, making mud pies, fixing things, etc.  We've laughed and cried more tears than we thought possible.  The children- Brenda and Debbie- have stayed connected alongside both parents with tears, smiles and preparing their hearts to say goodbye. An ending of sorts, a beginning of another.

Painful.  Agonizing. Yes.  Worth it?  Absolutely!  God has allowed us to gather together, sitting on the floor, surrounding granddaddy's bed. Once again, he's teaching us.  We are the students.  He's the mentor even at deaths door. He is teaching us humility, grace, courage and how to walk through the valley of death without fear.  To sit midst the enemy of death and fear no evil.  Beautiful.  

What came clear was observing my dad, Jimmy, shave and comb granddaddy's hair.  He asked for a hot towel in his soft wrinkled skin, where the tubes and tape have stuck to his porcelain face.  My dad was the servant yet he was being served through gran daddy's yielding to the picture of grace.

Deeply moving- picture of Jesus coming to the world to be served.  To sit among the weak and least, the sickly-  offering drink and food giving restoration.  Thankful I could witness this act of love.  

Treading carefully through grief...the art of embracing and letting go.

A blessed life?

To live as Christ is closer to not having security in place, having no place to lay my head, giving the shirt off my back if needed, forsaking all others and seeking The Lord with my heart soul and mind.  Thoughts like Merton come to mind...

“A life is either all spiritual or not spiritual at all. No man can serve two masters. Your life is shaped by the end you live for. You are made in the image of what you desire." Or counting all loss joy- yeah Paul says that.  Or as Corrie Ten Boom "praising god for the fleas as she and other women suffer in concentration camps.  Mother Teresa living sacrificially as she served the very least of these. Is that what I picture as a "good" and fruitful life wrapped in success and achievement?  Not really.  As I work with teenagers, I am reminded at how my life is speak!   It has the potential to scream injustice or mock suffering....giving real life answers of hope midst tragedy that faces these typical teens face daily.  Some of them function almost flawlessly but crave the simple of things.  Simple things like "cook me oatmeal or grits Ms. Erwin; do you have any food today?"   It's  those times where I am confronted with questions and and the attack of my belief system.  Do these kids have a gift that some of us with all the memory verses and badges of honor never really achieved?  Do they have insight in the quest for hope without realizing and knowledge that they lead me? I am faced with my response.  It's all in the reaction.  Depending on the reaction enables me to walk deeper in their lives or tread softly on the sidelines.   So the keys to the kingdom...well they seem to be held by the dirty feet of sinners saved again and again by the loving arms of Grace, repeatedly covered by tender mercies and protected by the palm of God...midst the fires of temptation and situations of no choice facing ridicule often by those who sit in plush air controlled filtered atmospheres.

"Jesus said whatever you do to the least of these my brothers you’ve done it to me. And this is what I’ve come to think. That if I want to identify fully with Jesus Christ, who I claim to be my Savior and Lord, the best way that I can do that is to identify with the poor. This I know will go against the teachings of all the popular evangelical preachers. But they’re just wrong. They’re not bad, they’re just wrong. Christianity is not about building an absolutely secure little niche in the world where you can live with your perfect little wife and your perfect little children in a beautiful little house where you have no gays or minority groups anywhere near you. Christianity is about learning to love like Jesus loved and Jesus loved the poor and Jesus loved the broken-hearted."  Rich Mullins

Struggles within our daily journey.  It's the real stuff.  Often the stuff we hide from our closest circle of friends... not that I think we should share all with all.  But when we pretend or righteously act above struggle, we separate our life's voice from the image of Christ.  We take on a different role that embraces isolation, clings to possessions in hope for peace yet feels trapped.   We in true honesty answer the question asked to Rich Mullins "are you free" the same way he does.  Silence.  

Therefore the answer his mentor replied was like to us..."then you aren't free."  The same question Jesus asks repeatedly with those he encountered, "want to be well?"  Clearly he knew even though we aren't confined by prison bars, we find ourselves Not Free.  He does want to cling to us- giving us peace midst enemies and fear.  He does want continual salvation as we die to self daily, facing the mundane experience.  Does it really make a difference?  Yes.  The answer is yes.  Love trumps all things, the law, self righteousness, piety, control-  in fact it's like Shane Claiborne quotes "we need to move all thing closer to Jesus, instead of building fences to protect and keep the in-out separate."

God is the gate keeper, holder of the keys to heaven and hell, sight giver, healer and redeemer. We need to rest in that promise- he is a keeper of his word.  He requires us to love beyond, show mercy where it's unfathomable, and walk justly for those who have no voice or legs to carry.  Be that and stop building fences to keep the 'bad' out-  we r missing the point of the Good News. 

No, I won't.

I experienced a painful yet gracefilled moment in worship today.  The moment you could not imagine or even plan for and when it hits you, you have a choice.  The whole idea of wrestling with God, well it's a real conversation.  Facing worship today with anticipation, a new step in reaching a larger group of people...assisting in making a safe place for community...really an exciting move in the church we gather in and call home.

For those with and without special needs, change is unsettling.  For our Katie, leaving the 10th grade class and promoting was and is a big deal.  New worship time.  Big deal.  Louder more casual sounds.  Not a calm experience.  As church begins, the music begins...the experience is formulating to be a well rounded blend of worship in a casual more modern environment.  For Katie, anxiety erupted.  Her dad couldn't join us because of work, increasing her sense of comfort.  The other children with a filled sanctuary of worshippers began singing.  I was standing near the door, beneath the area around the piano, clear sight for all looking toward the stage.  Katie's ears covered.  Anxiousness began.  In me.

I gave in, go ahead and sit outside and watch the tv screen of worship.  I went back to my pew,  doors closed.  What I secretly wanted was my friend or pastor to rescue me with Katie, in Scott's absence.
But that was not God's plan today.

My heart couldn't let go that Katie was sitting outside in the waiting area, unseen by me.  Just worship.  God prodded me.  Go ask the man on the front row, Scott's friend but doesn't know our Katie.  No.  I wasn't doing that.  This is just our messed up life, we would get through it or I would leave.

I looked around, leaving wasn't the answer.  Grace worshiping and signing as she sang with voice and hands.  Elijah sitting with other 7th grade boys, first time youthers.  God spoke again.  Move, you prideful one, ask the man up front to help.  So I did.

He said yes but ask what to do.  He walked out and came back with Katie.  Happy.  Sat and put his arm around her, much like Scottie does.  Tears filled my eyes.  Then began falling down my cheek.  I was the one who needed the painful grace filled moment.  Katie was enjoying worship and the man thanked me for the privilege of worshipping with Katie.

The moment where pride exits, gods amazing grace sweeps in and you are forced to close your eyes and accept it, reject it or fight the presence of Christ.  This morning, god overwhelmed me with a power that was much larger than me.  I finally gave into what I was being moved to do.  The small act on my part opened a wave of love, embracing my tough little heart.  Worship did in fact move me.  It pushed me closer to the heart of the one who knows me intricately.  It wasn't with emotion or pain; but it was far reaching, more than I could have planned for or created.  

The Gospel According to Wendy K: Where camp meets reality-

The Gospel According to Wendy K: Where camp meets reality-



@JoniandFriends!



#JAF35Years

Blind Eyes See...

Today as I skipped through my routine of camp laundry, listening to camp stories, talent shows, pool games, chilling with my crew as they describe their weeks of refreshment and renewal and how God has spoken to them, I am grateful.  This week "we" were in Brevard, NC @ Young-life Camp Capernium for special needs, Panama City, FL @ SonBurn, youth camp, Morristown, TN @ Manley's Music Camp~ Camp Agape.  And I was @ home, Knoxville, TN.

A time of renewal because we needed it; well need it.  We thought in our minds that renewal would come through a beach vacation...which I crave or some other unique family adventure.  Little did I know, we would begin our journey @ Family Camp in Newport, TN @ Carson Springs.  Transported in golf carts by sacrificial servants giving of their summer. Some knew me from when I just a little girl and some were my age ~ all present to serve by driving me and others to and fro around the mountain-side.  Coming home was both fulfilling and depleting.  It was back to the "real world" where more days than most, "we" feel left out, excluded and or just an observer on the sidelines.  Yet as my sweet kiddos talked and laughed about camp, we were filled with excitement for next year.  Sophia just said, "I can't believe camp was SO long ago.  I can't wait till next summer."

Anxiously waiting for some alone time while all 4 kiddos went their ways, I would take a nap, rest, have coffee and conversations uninterrupted.  Ahh.  You all who have children, can grasp my vision. Well, that week is over and we back in community.  Hearing these precious stories, seeing their faces light up as they talk of their experiences, I am refreshed.  How can that be?  I've been in church my whole life, attended seminary with Scott, worked in summer missions and youth camps...but why now?

It seems to be the life of the church has no walls.  We preach the "body of Christ" and that all serve a purpose or greater good but in reality we do not function in a world that embraces this mission.  I am not angry; it's just the persona that we've come to identify as being a follower of Jesus.  We've institutionalized Jesus and labeled him with our own preferences.  We wrap our laws and orderly conduct calling them a "better living or  better stewardship."  Now don't be offended because I, too, have accepted this identity and find myself fighting against being a church-goer and living out the gospel.

I am wrestling the fact that "we" care more about what rules we have and how they are inforced than we do serving.  I am brought to tears as I see the faces from Katie's Camp Capernium.  Unlike any youth camp I atttended or camp I served, which have been some of the biggest and best, I cannot compare what I saw on the faces of those @ Camp Capernium.

I have a new understanding from my friend's borrowed quote "the special needs community is the marrow of the body of Christ."  I heard this statement and read it.  I tried chewing on the idea that this is/was true but not until this DAY did I see this quote come alive.  It became words that breathed air and began living.

Using Gracie's camp motto...we are the living, not the dead held new meaning.  Yes we are the body...we cannot live without one another but our "least of the these" are the marrow.  My great ideas and thoughtful planning cannot exist without the marrow.  Therefore, until we experience this, we are empty bodies just "doing" church.  We are part of God's work but not fully.

The part of "beyond our imaginations" only comes through seeing the messiest ones, the ones that make us uncomfortable share the unconditional JOY that lives through good news.  The good news of hope.  The good news of grace.  It's from the light in their eyes at being lifted up a mountain, calling it a hike or carried into the water to experience the refreshment of swimming...we who function out of normalcy pride ourselves in giving when a need arises or joining an event to support those less-fortunate.

That's simply not good enough.  If we are the body, the marrow needs us daily, not on holidays.  I like many of my friends live an unexpected journey of "the least of these" ~  we fight disappointment and heartache, forcing ourselves to "throw a party" when little things happen.  None of us would choose this life, yet my blind eyes haven't seen is that we live life alongside those who carry LIFE to the body.

As God's people, we must care for the marrow or our bodies in Jesus will give-way and grow weak.  We must carry those to through the rooftops and not simply pacify with a nod or look.  We are the ones who represent the bones and muscle which must encase God's marrow, protecting it as precious.  We must also let the marrow shine, as it sees Jesus with different eyes.  It maybe a vision of His glory we would miss otherwise.

Where camp meets reality-

Once upon a time, there was a deep desire to feel included, accepted, appreciated, seen and heard.  The feeling grew yet the dissonance between what was acceptable or the "norm" continued to widen that the desire was dissipating being replaced by despair.  Air became  thinner making conversations harder to achieve...the desire manifested itself into a question, "was this  the life would forever be?  Even with like minded people of faith emptiness became a new way of living."

How many of us experience this daily or wrestle this desire as we lay our heads to rest?  Yet no rest comes.  The shadows grow long and become interwoven not recognizable to what was real.  How to approach the throne of grace?  That seems too far off, sometimes not remembering that He can take the burden...the burden of sameness, acceptance, appreciated and approved.  That He can give meaning to what was lost and create purpose and desire.  It is through Him that the shadows are powerless when our eyes are closing.  He is hiding us in the cleft of the rock, unseen by the enemy that lures seeking to devour.

As we return from Camp Celebrate, a piece or taste of heaven, we are faced with a bit of disappointment.  We return to the land of American dreamers...rejoining the the race of rats for stuff and success.  We realize a battle is brewing; how could returning home be a place filled with anxiety or loneliness?

Really it's not home.  For I am not alone whether my feet go to the left or the right, god abides with me.  He's not watching me run this race cheering me to maker certain turns.  No he's present.  Often silent.  Unconditional.  Constant.  Yet I face the feelings of difference as I re-enter my world.  My world with all my stuff, my own bed, my own pillow, my own people.  Yet my heart can easily slip into despair...or loneliness.  It can restart the debate I have in my mind of "what if...."  Then I fall into the trap seemingly prepared for me, the right size and everything.  

This is an unfair world.  Fact.  It's is unjust.  The broken have little to hold them together.  The hopeless have no where to rest.  Our lives are the way they are...or "it is what it is."  I have grow to despise that phrase.  It seems to attach itself my foot, like the mat for the man at the pool of Bethesda.    I have no one who can carry me.  I rely on unrealistic expectations that leave me disappointed and mad.  There's little room for anything else.  Then I re-long for camp next year.

Sounds crazy, doesn't it?  But it is something. We've shared with a few as we prepare for the journey back home.  God is just.  God is fair.  God sees all my emptiness.  He hears my groaning, no words needed.  He mends the brine .  The cracks still show yet they can let light at different angles flow in the darkness.   God gives sight to the blind, it's "more" blind if the heart can't see.  He sometimes carries us to the water, or requires us to stand and walk.  But the question is always the same, "do you want to be made well?"  

The question from Jesus is open ended.  His "wellness" is is dependent on his ways; they are far reaching to places we cannot understand or even dissect. Camp celebrate isn't a getaway from the norm or an unrealistic high.  It's a glimpse of heaven.  The essential organs to the "body" all coming together for renewal and rest.  

Normalcy

Today I sit with a heavy heart wondering why so many have giant burdens and why the things we take for granite provide stones that fill in gaps or leave holes in our foundations?  Isn't the Lord enough?  Why then do we see so many suffer?  We don't put our faith in luck or crystal balls or karma, yet there is such an imbalance of injustice and unfairness.

Simple things like getting in the van for a ride to the mountains, simple? Not.  Fear rises from the youngest members that our child with special needs might get upset and lash out or pull hair.  Even though she thrives at visiting with strangers at Barnes & Noble, even little ones.  Why?  Struggles to make plans and because the crowds are large and the terrain not conducive to pushing her wheelchair are larger than our "will" to try.  All the efforts to be normal....take hikes thinking Scott might have a heart attack carrying her up a mountain.  It sure gives more visual meaning to the friends who take time to carry their friend through the rooftop just to see Jesus.

It's exhausting to be our friends at times.  We know.  Yet as my friend says "why can't we just be normal?"  Why are health bills what create bankruptcy and loss of hope?  Why is it that the American dream costs $130,000/year and what tiny percentage have that yearly?  The dream I guess is for a few.  Most of us walk hoping to not fall.  Even the wealthy without Jesus can't see beyond the endless ambition for more or the despairing of hopelessness midst money...a friend who suffers not financially said "money doesn't create happiness, but it eases a burden that those who spend their time and energy worried about keeping electricity on and food at the table have to bear."

We are the same.  Created for the pleasure of Christ.  Yet we continually find ourselves disappointed that packing up for a camp for special needs may come to a halt because sickness prevails or lack of money or increased physical pain seems to be the mountains that interfere.  And we scream "normalcy!"  We exhaust our ability to dream; feeling overwhelmed that something as simple as jumping in the car, isn't simple at all.  Not to state the obvious, camp for special needs isn't normal at all.  This is our vacation.  

We are inundated with images of living the high life...sailing through the ocean.  Even though others do suffer, often the voices we hear are "well you can't leave her at home.  there is always next year for your trip...as 'they' leave for their vacation".   

It's not that we would hold back vacations or prosperity from others; it's that most of us want to be heard.  We know for goodness sake that our community can't hold the keys to salvation, that's the lords.  We don't expect YOU to fix it; but allow us to be angry or be present with us.  Don't judge us for our unbelief.  Believe more beside us when our belief is just dwindling.

We prepare to go to family camp this week.  A spot for 5 days where we the same.  Our Normal is breaking bread with cafeteria food, singing and crying together, feeding tubes, diapering, trying to find respite, attempting to make life similar.  There's comfort in that community, not enabling.  The solutions aren't what we seek, those are mostly miraculous.  We seek comfort, ease, help, quiet, some similarity and no worries of criticism of those around us.  No worries if we stand, sit, clap at worship.  No worries if we have to pace- it's not disrespectful.  It's where we are permitted to hear.  To worship.  To question without fear or looking like "bad" parents or whatever the social norms scream.

My family is ready and excited for the week.  My heart is heavy for friends around who are weighted with dispair.  That god will provide and give them forum to be  normal.  If you can't relate, you can be present.  You can influence the institution to show kindness, love trumping law, service because Jesus models being a servant...washing the dirtiest of feet, reclining with the lowliest, turning to the most insignificant woman who touched his garment.  She offered him nothing,  didn't tithe.  Just desired to touch him.  And what did she receive? Healing, because that's what He is.  For the least of these.

The Body

The body of Christ is a simple yet a cloudy concept when lived aloud.  Various perceptions on how the body translates from the Bible to "real life."  You wouldn't assume that with all the hang ups we encounter, being Gods body would cause such infliction. Yet it causes passionate preferences to stir and often show themselves as we evaluate how ministry is to be interpreted and mostly how it's funded.  Because we all know the rubber that meets the road is the dollar.

If we concerned ourselves with being the body in our actions and thoughts, there would be little left over to make an issue.  It would be just the bottom drippings of the pan, not the focus of our meetings and swarming itself around the picnics like an unwanted pest.  Yet in our culture we find plethora of ideas to discuss, re-discuss and sometimes come to blows over how we are to best be Christ's body. 

Giving to the poor.  Period.  We can't determine a litmus test for who those people are because we might turn to be the victim and that can't happen.  We clothe our talks with being good stewards and claim that concept trumps all other motives.  As I dissect in my mind, our discussions seem to take flight whenever we bring up money or the spending of funds.  God has entrusted us, no doubt.  But he also says his ways are higher than ours.  Believing without knowledge, faith.  So how does God invade our spontaneity?  

Do we allow his voice to blow as a breeze, gathering our well intentions and doing more than we ask or dream of?  If gods will and character depended solely on our stewardship, then we would be the Main catalyst for all his work.  

In fact if it weren't for his gracious love, there would be no me.  I simply don't have the wherewithal to make sense of most of the issues I face daily.  I can plan and organize stuff and thought yet god is still mysterious.  We delete the mystery if it all comes back to me.

I think this makes room for free interpretation. Making gods word available to me, relevant for my world, my struggle this moment. Not based on works or how many committees I attend or how well I speak. Or the flamboyancy of my words and lifestyle.  How often I am more concerned with "who" is in and how comfortable I am with worshipping with "them" than listening to God, the source of love.  In fact, He is love.

Wow. It causes me to shelve my rustic opinions and forces me to remove the scales upon my vision so that I see. See what?  The lonely, the brokenhearted, the empty, the hopeless, the disabled.

See God doesn't miss them.  He not only makes room for them, he befriends them.  He desires to know their pain.  And he has the power to transform.  We seem to neglect the need for transformation when we've got the rhetoric down pat.  We know the drill.  This is our home.  Hummm.  Doesn't leave room for the outcast or the unspoken.  The spontaneous love that my redeemer has for me.

Yet we are called to be in His image.  Wonder as he scans the Earth to and fro, does he see us, completely His?  Or more committed to our tactics, means to an end, upholding of the rules,being the  gatekeepers of our pretty gathering places?  I hope he sees me.  More broken than ever, in need of unconditional love and more concerned with living the gospel Of love than preserving my territory or rewriting my laws of redemption.

Withering & Grace

I never thought I would feel the word, withering.  Yet it often describes my heart as I struggle to live life.  When I am in this spot, my mind wanders...will this ever be different?  Will my family always sit on the out-skirts of the "normal" world, yes that includes church.  Well the answer whether I want to accept is yes.

But how do I truly define normal?  Would I want to live there if I could...would there be times of loneliness and heartache?  Of course.  I am reminded the things I teach...emotions don't have brains.  They don't have the power to control us, only when we enable them.  They are real, though.  So the balance of these forces can be tricky.  Often making my skin crawl...ha!

Real life...all the ceremonies we attend and celebrate often bring the opposite of happy to many in our world. Yet we are inundated by what we don't have in every store and often in church.  We as people of God are blinded because "this is how we've always done it."

What't the challenge?  Well it begins with me.  How I dissect my own issues and preferences is the beginning.  What it means to follow Christ, not just be a Christian?  Well it means letting go.  Letting go of my unrealistic expectations because they always leave me hanging and empty.  Seeking Jesus, even before the church.  With our modern view of church, we cloud what scriptures mean, leaving little room for the "priesthood of believers."  I am not rejecting spiritual disciplines that come in community.  But I find most of our hang-ups are about US, not following Christ.

We want to hang blame of every institution saying that if...Well the following of Christ begins with me.  It is woven into my home life and every place I wander.  It calls into question my decisions, thoughts and actions.  It reaches  beyond my own "goodness or good character" for it is by grace ONLY that we experience Jesus.   And that is painful to experience, much less popular to experience within in community.

So the call is for me to be an instrument of grace and mercy.  To allow the LIGHT to shine into my dark places, revealing my own frailties, preferences etc.  They cannot stay under cover and me live in freedom.

Love, Not Obligation

With love not obligation.  I've heard my grandmother say, "I don't want you to visit me out of obligation; I want you to want to be here."  It's not out of obligation that I love being with her, my grandmother that is.  It's time that makes my heart sing.  It's a joy for me to laugh loudly with her.

Is this how Jesus loves me to sit at his feet?  Laughing in abundance, sometimes with no reason.  Crying as we talk about things that break our hearts or remembering events that deeply impacted us.  This image settles well with me.  It provides peace to a somewhat stormy life I live or predicaments I find myself in...

Yet the question remains..."Why does my heart struggle or why do the shadows come? God's eyes are on the sparrow and I can trust he cares for me."  In the day to day, the shadows seem bigger than I can possibly endure.  Finding comfort in reclining at the feet of Jesus is just that...a moment of lightening the burden.  Hopefully moving toward trading my burden for grace and mercy.

It sounds like a simple equation for spiritual health yet it quickly resembles a cross.  Again the cross to carry that can be eased at the feet of God, reclined before my enemies.  Let us draw near out of love not obligation to the throne of God.  For there he can offer redemption, healing and companionship to the loneliest of hearts.

Questions?

I've been thinking this note for days. Now on an unexpected ice day off from school, I am taking the moment.  Recently struggling with the "whys" of suffering, I am pondering a statement from a friend.   When we make things better or safe for the most vulnerable, we then experience a more just life for all.  She said this is democracy at its center.  A place were the most vulnerable have a voice.

Is this the life God desires for us?  Making a way for the least of these, first?  What about the man lowered through the roof to see Jesus by his friends.  Or Jesus squatting by the woman found in 'sin' ready to be justifiably stoned...and he frees her; shinning light on their sinful hearts. I compare this to our present struggles.  We tend to be people who ignore the poor, turn a deaf ear to in humane verbal abuse Yet protest some of strangest events. In communities if faith we hear voices like...

"that's not how we experience god- so it's bad.  I can't worship because of the style.  We can't allow those children here, they don't know how to behave.  We don't have room, come back later.  You've not been here enough, our church is a commitment. Come back when you can fulfill your part. That's weird behavior, God can't use it.  In order to please God, I must micro manage or control it all.  The poor have no excuse. The desperate should have told us they were hurting.  I've earned my way, good luck to you."

Not sure this blends with the LOVE of Jesus.   This couldn't have been the attitude of the friends, they wouldn't have persevered to lower him to Jesus. Jesus wouldn't have paid any attention to Zacheaus.  Nor the women with 5 lovers at the well. And forget the dude on the cross, he was getting what he deserved for sure.  And David, well forgot a heart like God?   Take a look at the underground church or persecuted refugees with no place to lay their heads....still with a fierce desire to seek God.

Yet we struggle through our own preferences daily.  Our own prejudices.  We fight against not losing power and fanning such deep commitments to "what ought to be" that we are not much different than those who celebrate their own achievements even if they have walked over and on others, simply justifying it as that's business. Is the love of God not able to do exceedingly more?   Is it not able to move mountains?  Is it not able to give sight to the blind?   Pardon the worst sinner?

Then who am I?  I fellow journeyer, saved only by Gods goodness and free gift of himself.  I, too, can have joy midst suffering and not stand for the oppression of any living thing.   I can democratically make voice for the least of these.  As we make way for the coming of Christ, we are to be the kingdom of god in the here and now.

Faith's Opposite-corrected

This is what I get when I write at school awaiting the bell.  Opposite of faith isn't certainty...it's fear.  Fear that paralyzes and endorses a feeling of hopelessness.  It screams at me "believe more; pray harder!"  Yet offers no tools to get through the fire of fear.  The certainty piece that my friend threw into discussion is a mate with faith.  Looking down at  the water, seeing the state in which I find myself (like Peter), I get afraid.  I sink.  I panic.  Hands sweat; heart races.  Where is my help that is supposed to be (poison words for my heart) in place and making it possible to walk on water.

I don't know this is a conglomerate of ideas; I guess that's the wrestling of faith.  Thanks all for working this out alongside me.


Opposites.  We teach them in school; compare and contrast.  There seems to always be something to compare to and measure up to...how can this mindset not indoctrinate our lives with Christ?  I am not sure that some of our struggles here, based solidly in culture, do not resemble the face of Jesus.  We clothe these thoughts with "good well-intention" moral standards, yet they fail to include the heart of the person.  When examined, they offer little grace and very little forgiveness.

Through a discerning community, I am wrestling the opposite of faith...what is it?  My mind fights the beast which screams, "the opposite of faith is doubt/hopeless or unbelief."  But doubt doesn't belong in this equation.  It's certainty, as my friend Will describes, certainty that God is more than, exceedingly more.  Like Peter...maybe we all are "water walkers" and when we doubt, the window is opened for Jesus to speak in love, not reprimand, "don't be afraid."

It an ebb and flow that runs through my bones...the wrestling of my own cross.  So keep water walking...Jesus is there.  He will provide.  Certainty that my hope can reside and find solace, not doubt...an unwelcomed guest.

A Season Missed

It's now January 2014, I have found myself missing an entire season...sometimes conversations happen in my head alone not yielding themselves to paper or pretend online paper.  Writing wasn't made time for and I find myself in a shadow.  Feeling overwhelmed that a shadow would be part of my existence, not realizing that I in fact am mere human...well I know I am human.  I know my faults and some of my own self-denial but not coming to some understanding of me...only me before grace.

I could share grace to others or even explain the power of grace to a group or individual but run into it, falling face first.  Wow.  Not me.  I didn't really need it that badly.  I had made mostly "good" choices, life was mostly a steady walk.  Every now and then I would face a pit or a mountain but the character whom lived inside me could and would as my dear friend says, "bull dog" my way forward.   In my world, this was the refiners fire.  Shavings would fall as I weathered that part of the journey, but mostly I remained in tact.  Playing the part.  Speaking the words.

Then comes a shadow.  I found myself acting with rote actions, living life.  Similar to a robot.  Responding, reacting, doing the job...steady course ahead.  But empty.  Why is my heart not singing?  I am weary of listening to others problems, showing compassion.  Just wanted to find a place where no one needed me.  :) The shadow.

What I discovered was that the shadow couldn't live or faintly be seen without the LIGHT. Light must be present for a shadow to appear.  God is in the shadow.  Without him, there could be no time such as this.  My experience of loneliness or emptiness wasn't pretend to the One who created me.  His light was within, as dimly as it may seem.  The shadow was part of my journey and I wasn't alone.  In fact, grace was sufficient.

As I put voice to some of these feelings, I realized the mere utterance brought healing or began the process of healing.  Often tougher than the healed area.  Realizing that my "goodness" was not sufficient for my needs.  My good "upbringing" wasn't enough to sustain.  My wrestling of the faith came at a price.  A price of realizing that I am human.  All the way.  Frailty and broken pieces.  Shadows and places of doubt.

In that realization and wrestling with God and falling face first into the "image" of me...came a loving God.  He presented himself in deep compassion from my husband and kind words.  Words of love reminding me that the shadows can bring safety, much like the cleft of the rock.  We sing the songs, drill the Bible verses, lead the small groups....often relying on the goodness of Me.  Appreciation of God and his salvation but seeking him only in sorrow or deep pits.  Not accepting that by grace ALONE am I saved.  Saved from myself.  Saved from a life without hope, grounded in goodness.

So today I begin a new year...not with regrets that I hadn't recognized my true need of grace or my self-reliance or "bull-dogging" ability.  But a weary soul, walking with wrinkled feet, seeing light-causing shadows as places of strength, not forsaken pits. Embracing the human-imperfect person I am with a light that is made to be in the image of a loving creator, not its inhabitant.  Reminder that grace is a gift, one that comes with no "catch"...but I must be willing to fall into, pride and all.