I'm not sure what I expected. The words "Global Leadership Summit" were slightly intimidating. I knew I'd hear a lot of "successful business/ministry" advice. I knew I'd glean a lot of wisdom from people smarter than I am. And I did, and it was awesome, and I have a lot to process from many of the sessions.
But there was one session I will never forget.
Mama Maggie Gobran took the stage during the first session Friday morning. She was introduced by a well-done and brief documentary that explained who she was and what she does - I'm not sure you can see it anywhere, but you can learn about her work in this article or visit her website - Stephen's Children. People began clapping as she took the stage - but then, they didn't stop.
She was given a standing ovation before she even said a word.
It was mind-blowing and overwhelming. I knew within moments that I was standing in the presence of true greatness. It resonated within my spirit: this is a woman who knows and loves God, and serves Him with real humility.
Mama Maggie has been serving the poorest of the poor in Cairo for over 20 years. Day after day, she walks the streets and garbage dumps of the city, seeking out children who need someone to look after them. She gives them so much more than food and clothing - she gives them love, dignity, and hope.
She has poured her entire life - her time, her resources, everything - into caring for the poor. It is a difficult calling, but in spite of the hardship, she would not trade it. And the secret to finding the strength to face all the heartbreak that she faces every day, and to keep on, in the hardest times, doing all that she can to make a difference? "The secret is silence," she said. "Silence your body to listen to your words. Silence your tongue to listen to your thoughts. Silence your thoughts to listen to your heart beating. Silence your heart to listen to your spirit. Silence your spirit to listen to His Spirit."
She began her message with words from Mary's Magnificat - "He has done great things for me" - and her attitude was so authentically that of Mary's. Who am I that He would call me? I am the least of all women. But He has called, and so I say yes...
Really, words can't convey what it was like, watching Mama Maggie deliver her message so humbly and so quietly. But the point hit home. You can't do what you're called to do unless you are as deeply in God as the salt is in the ocean. You need to dissolve. And the power and the strength that you find when you do is amazing. Lose everything. On purpose. And you will find Him. It isn't easy, she confessed. But it is worth it.
Even now, trying and failing miserably to communicate the awesomeness of what I know was a life-transforming experience (tho where it will lead, I don't know!), I am close to tears (again). Simply being in the presence of someone who doesn't just believe the gospel, but lives it out was incredibly humbling. Please hear me that I am not berating myself for falling so short, but the truth is, I am. I can be so selfish and stupid, and to be near someone who was once like me - someone who loved nice clothes and traveling to Europe and all the privileges of social status - but who gave them up and found something of far more substance and value in serving others- was convicting. I'm not going to sell everything I own and move to Cairo - but there's a piece of me that wants to. ;)
I know, tho, that God is writing my story differently - at least for now - and if nothing else, hearing Mama Maggie speak has sparked in me an even deeper longing to know and be known by the God who loves all He created, and to a desire to seek more intentionally after the things He would have me do with my time daily, rather than living so much on my own agenda. Who knows what opportunities I may find to share the love of Christ, if I would only pay a little more attention, and take a little more time to listen for His voice?
I spent time yesterday in the presence of true greatness: a woman after His own heart, who would not allow a standing ovation to go to her head. Instead, it brought her to her knees. God grant that I may be that kind of woman someday.
Create in me a pure heart and renew a right spirit within me. Teach me this kind of humility; create it in me. Amen.
Showing posts with label simple felicity: living into your calling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label simple felicity: living into your calling. Show all posts
random ramblings, vol. 7
This poor blog has been so neglected of late... Time for a little bit of rambling, I think! Maybe a few updates too. So without further ado:
1. I haven't actually not been blogging. I have a half-dozen unpublished posts/ideas of posts that I would really like to finish at some point. :) Most of them about Sabbath and/or healing. Stay tuned - one of these days I really will finish writing them!
2. I am craving bacon and feta cheese at the moment. Actually, craving might be an understatement...
3. The Lenten Daily Devotional Study that I'm doing with my church is going really well. I think I'm glad in retrospect that we didn't try to do the Lenten Supper thing along with it - as awesome as that would have been, it would have been one thing too many this spring. But the devotional itself has been getting a lot of good press - and in fact, morphed from being an email sent to people on a daily basis to also being posted on our pastor's blog. If you're interested in joining us, you can hop in at any time here.
4. Spring is finally springing. Can I just tell you how happy this makes me? I spent part of my Sabbath on Saturday walking in the woods, and it was wonderful.
5. After a few adventures (I believe it might have gone pseudo-missing at least twice), the podcast from the sermon I preached in February is finally up! :) There are a few little audio blips (sorry about that) - but most of the message made it!
6. I stayed up ridiculously late last night, finishing Robin McKinley's new book, Pegasus. The first couple of chapters were a little slow, but once I got into it, I could hardly put it down. It is an incredible, well-written, beautiful and insightful story. The protagonist is probably one of my new favorite characters ever. I really hope there's going to be a sequel, tho, and soon! The ending was terrible. Not unexpected - but still. I kept waiting for the last-minute save, and it never happened. :(
7. I also bought Rob Bell's new book, Love Wins. Definitely looking forward to reading it this week! I intended to read it on Saturday, but I started Pegasus first. And that was the end of that plan... :)
1. I haven't actually not been blogging. I have a half-dozen unpublished posts/ideas of posts that I would really like to finish at some point. :) Most of them about Sabbath and/or healing. Stay tuned - one of these days I really will finish writing them!
2. I am craving bacon and feta cheese at the moment. Actually, craving might be an understatement...
3. The Lenten Daily Devotional Study that I'm doing with my church is going really well. I think I'm glad in retrospect that we didn't try to do the Lenten Supper thing along with it - as awesome as that would have been, it would have been one thing too many this spring. But the devotional itself has been getting a lot of good press - and in fact, morphed from being an email sent to people on a daily basis to also being posted on our pastor's blog. If you're interested in joining us, you can hop in at any time here.
4. Spring is finally springing. Can I just tell you how happy this makes me? I spent part of my Sabbath on Saturday walking in the woods, and it was wonderful.
5. After a few adventures (I believe it might have gone pseudo-missing at least twice), the podcast from the sermon I preached in February is finally up! :) There are a few little audio blips (sorry about that) - but most of the message made it!
6. I stayed up ridiculously late last night, finishing Robin McKinley's new book, Pegasus. The first couple of chapters were a little slow, but once I got into it, I could hardly put it down. It is an incredible, well-written, beautiful and insightful story. The protagonist is probably one of my new favorite characters ever. I really hope there's going to be a sequel, tho, and soon! The ending was terrible. Not unexpected - but still. I kept waiting for the last-minute save, and it never happened. :(
7. I also bought Rob Bell's new book, Love Wins. Definitely looking forward to reading it this week! I intended to read it on Saturday, but I started Pegasus first. And that was the end of that plan... :)
prayer and fasting and faith on the earth - part two
I've been on a bit of a journey, off and on over the past few years, periodically fasting and praying for the healing of a good friend. I am still confident that God has said "yes" - I actually have a sticky note on my refrigerator detailing the day it happened - but we haven't seen it yet. For awhile I felt like it was time to cease praying and simply wait for God's yes to come - but lately I've been feeling a little more urgency to start praying again. And I've found myself in unexpected conversations with people about healing, and I feel that once familiar stirring to pray for "greater things" again... but I'm still not quite sure what to do with all of it, intellectually, anyway.
You may want to backtrack a bit and read the first post in this series so you can follow my train of thought as I continue to process all of this. Here's the link:
prayer and fasting and faith on the earth - part one (you'll want to read the comments too)
Okay, so fast-forward to this weekend. I have some friends who recently have been experiencing a degree of success in praying for people to be healed. On Saturday, they were hanging out with some other friends of theirs who had a prophetic word that there was someone with a left shoulder that was bothering them, and God wanted to heal it. They asked people they met all day, but they never found anyone.
Sunday morning, I woke up early in a ton of pain. Somehow in the night, something had happened to my left shoulder, and I could hardly move it. The muscle behind my shoulder blade just ached, and reaching for things was intensely painful. This did not bode well, as I was leading worship yesterday. So I emailed some of the prayer warriors in our church and asked them to pray for me. All morning long, people prayed - and when it came down to it, there were two kinds of prayers being prayed.
The first type made sense to me - "God, we know You can heal, and we want that - but if you choose not to, then please just give her the strength to carry on and lead well this morning." Yep. Believing that I would be able to lead was no problem - but believing that I'd do it pain-free came harder. So this was a prayer with which I could easily agree. I wanted to be healed - don't get me wrong - and I believe with all my heart that my God who once made the sun stand still, and once even made time go backwards is certainly able to heal my shoulder - but there was an intellectual assent that He might not. Was that faithless? Or practical? I'm not sure.
Then there was another type of prayer prayed over me. The sort of prayer that went more along the lines of "Shoulder, we command you to be healed in the Name of Jesus, to be restored to the way God created you to be." Now theologically I don't have a problem with that prayer at all. As I explained in part one of this series, I believe that it is entirely biblical to tell someone to be healed. But it didn't happen.
It hasn't caused a crisis of faith - I still believe (possibly irrationally, but I don't care) that God can heal, that He wants to heal, and that it's entirely likely that I may one day finally screw up the courage to practice healing, embracing success and failure alike as my friends are doing, and learning from the process. I'm not in the least upset that I woke up this morning with my shoulder still aching. But I do sort of wonder why He said "no."
It's possible that it's simply to grow my faith. Leading worship from that place yesterday was difficult, but it was also one of the sweetest runs I've had in a long time. I don't often feel God's presence when I lead - it's a much more intellectual and practical experience that most would expect - but yesterday He gave me the grace to actually feel engaged in worship, and it was a joyous morning. I wasn't pain-free, but it was bearable while I was on-stage, and that was an answer to prayer. But I wonder. I'm encouraged that He told people I don't even know, so that my friends would be on the lookout for an opportunity to pray for healing, and so that I'd feel incredibly loved by a God who was thinking of me before I even knew what the day would hold. But with all of that - why wasn't I healed yesterday?
Praying on the way home, I felt like He said it would be a while. I'm okay with that - tho I'll be honest and say that I'm kind of hoping (er, wishing...) for a short while as opposed to, you know, months. It's a muscle ache - it will eventually sort itself out. I'm not worried about it, just uncomfortable. But I wonder what it is that I'm to learn from all this, and if it is a matter of needing more faith - not very strongly wishing God would heal me, but being 100% positive (hoping, believing, confidently trusting) that He will.
And how does all of this affect (or should it affect?) the way I pray for other people in need of healing?
I'm not sure. More reflections to come in a day or two. But in the meantime - thoughts?
You may want to backtrack a bit and read the first post in this series so you can follow my train of thought as I continue to process all of this. Here's the link:
prayer and fasting and faith on the earth - part one (you'll want to read the comments too)
Okay, so fast-forward to this weekend. I have some friends who recently have been experiencing a degree of success in praying for people to be healed. On Saturday, they were hanging out with some other friends of theirs who had a prophetic word that there was someone with a left shoulder that was bothering them, and God wanted to heal it. They asked people they met all day, but they never found anyone.
Sunday morning, I woke up early in a ton of pain. Somehow in the night, something had happened to my left shoulder, and I could hardly move it. The muscle behind my shoulder blade just ached, and reaching for things was intensely painful. This did not bode well, as I was leading worship yesterday. So I emailed some of the prayer warriors in our church and asked them to pray for me. All morning long, people prayed - and when it came down to it, there were two kinds of prayers being prayed.
The first type made sense to me - "God, we know You can heal, and we want that - but if you choose not to, then please just give her the strength to carry on and lead well this morning." Yep. Believing that I would be able to lead was no problem - but believing that I'd do it pain-free came harder. So this was a prayer with which I could easily agree. I wanted to be healed - don't get me wrong - and I believe with all my heart that my God who once made the sun stand still, and once even made time go backwards is certainly able to heal my shoulder - but there was an intellectual assent that He might not. Was that faithless? Or practical? I'm not sure.
Then there was another type of prayer prayed over me. The sort of prayer that went more along the lines of "Shoulder, we command you to be healed in the Name of Jesus, to be restored to the way God created you to be." Now theologically I don't have a problem with that prayer at all. As I explained in part one of this series, I believe that it is entirely biblical to tell someone to be healed. But it didn't happen.
It hasn't caused a crisis of faith - I still believe (possibly irrationally, but I don't care) that God can heal, that He wants to heal, and that it's entirely likely that I may one day finally screw up the courage to practice healing, embracing success and failure alike as my friends are doing, and learning from the process. I'm not in the least upset that I woke up this morning with my shoulder still aching. But I do sort of wonder why He said "no."
It's possible that it's simply to grow my faith. Leading worship from that place yesterday was difficult, but it was also one of the sweetest runs I've had in a long time. I don't often feel God's presence when I lead - it's a much more intellectual and practical experience that most would expect - but yesterday He gave me the grace to actually feel engaged in worship, and it was a joyous morning. I wasn't pain-free, but it was bearable while I was on-stage, and that was an answer to prayer. But I wonder. I'm encouraged that He told people I don't even know, so that my friends would be on the lookout for an opportunity to pray for healing, and so that I'd feel incredibly loved by a God who was thinking of me before I even knew what the day would hold. But with all of that - why wasn't I healed yesterday?
Praying on the way home, I felt like He said it would be a while. I'm okay with that - tho I'll be honest and say that I'm kind of hoping (er, wishing...) for a short while as opposed to, you know, months. It's a muscle ache - it will eventually sort itself out. I'm not worried about it, just uncomfortable. But I wonder what it is that I'm to learn from all this, and if it is a matter of needing more faith - not very strongly wishing God would heal me, but being 100% positive (hoping, believing, confidently trusting) that He will.
And how does all of this affect (or should it affect?) the way I pray for other people in need of healing?
I'm not sure. More reflections to come in a day or two. But in the meantime - thoughts?
full circle
It's been an amazing journey these past few years. In May of 2007, I spent a few hours in the seminary library, studying commentaries for fun, and wrestling with a certain but still somewhat ambiguous calling - coming to terms with my inner Donna Reed and realizing that in spite of my hesitancy to find out what it was, God's call on my life was much different than I'd dared to dream. In July of 2008, I preached my first official sermon on a Monday night at a young adult group - using a sermon illustration that has become Torch quasi-legend. (Remember that time I got chased by a buffalo? lol. So does everybody else...)
And today? Today I am headed back to the library to begin research for my first ever Sunday morning sermon.
(AHHHHH!!!!!!) I am excited and terrified all at once.
It's a little surreal, looking back, and still feeling a tiny shred of that old reluctance to step out - but feeling at the same time, in spite of that little bit of sheer terror, so incredibly confident that God has called me to do this.
Nonetheless, I am very grateful that I have a month to write, re-write, and re-write again. :)
Wish me luck! Or better yet - pray that I get out of the way and am quiet enough to hear what He's speaking thru the text, and can relay it effectively. :)
Thanks!
And today? Today I am headed back to the library to begin research for my first ever Sunday morning sermon.
(AHHHHH!!!!!!) I am excited and terrified all at once.
It's a little surreal, looking back, and still feeling a tiny shred of that old reluctance to step out - but feeling at the same time, in spite of that little bit of sheer terror, so incredibly confident that God has called me to do this.
Nonetheless, I am very grateful that I have a month to write, re-write, and re-write again. :)
Wish me luck! Or better yet - pray that I get out of the way and am quiet enough to hear what He's speaking thru the text, and can relay it effectively. :)
Thanks!
love, hope and habit
"May the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you." - 1 Thessalonians 3:12
I read this verse this morning, and I'll confess - my first thought was, "what does this verse have to do with Advent?" But as I reflected on this verse a little longer, it became clear to me that it might actually have everything to do with Advent. And here's why.
This week, we're thinking about Advent hope, right? The hope that we have because Christ was born - because "the Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood" (John 1:14, The Message). Now think for a minute about the people you know who know this hope. What kind of people are they? What adjectives would you use to describe them? (What adjectives do you think should describe them?)
People of hope have a positive outlook. They're the staff you meet in the store in the middle of the Christmas rush who take the time to smile at you, and make you feel like you're their only customer, even tho there's ten people in line behind you. They're the people who ring bells for the Salvation Army on street corners and wish all the people who don't seem to care a merry Christmas anyway. They're the people who get really bad news and yet try their level best to find a bright spot in the middle of complete horrible situations. They're the non-complainers. They're the people with whom you find yourself wanting to spend time because just talking to them is incredibly life-giving. They love you.
Are you a person of hope?
I'll admit it. I am - but I don't always act like it. But my attention was captured today by the words in the prayer from today's Uncluttered Heart post. The idea that hope is something that I actually need to practice hit home. When you practice something, you usually tend to get better at it over time.
So what will it take for me to practice hope today? And in so doing, will I "increase and abound in love" for people, as so many people of hope have abounded in love for me? Yes.
So that Scripture really does have everything to do with Advent...
One of the things I love most about Advent is that it isn't just about waiting for Christmas and remembering the Story. It's also about remembering that the Story isn't over yet. Here's another passage, written by the apostle John, that has everything to do with Advent, too:
I heard a voice thunder from the Throne: "Look, look! God has moved into the neighborhood, making His home with men and women! They're His people; He's their God. He'll wipe every tear from their eyes. Death is gone for good - tears gone, crying gone, pain gone - all the first order of things gone." (Revelation 21:3-4, The Message)
This gives me so much hope. And today, I'm going to remember it, and with His help, try to love Him and love people better simply by practicing a positive, hopeful outlook - no matter what this day may bring. And if I keep at it, one day being hopeful will simply be habit. (I'm hoping for it, anyway.) ;)
I read this verse this morning, and I'll confess - my first thought was, "what does this verse have to do with Advent?" But as I reflected on this verse a little longer, it became clear to me that it might actually have everything to do with Advent. And here's why.
This week, we're thinking about Advent hope, right? The hope that we have because Christ was born - because "the Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood" (John 1:14, The Message). Now think for a minute about the people you know who know this hope. What kind of people are they? What adjectives would you use to describe them? (What adjectives do you think should describe them?)
People of hope have a positive outlook. They're the staff you meet in the store in the middle of the Christmas rush who take the time to smile at you, and make you feel like you're their only customer, even tho there's ten people in line behind you. They're the people who ring bells for the Salvation Army on street corners and wish all the people who don't seem to care a merry Christmas anyway. They're the people who get really bad news and yet try their level best to find a bright spot in the middle of complete horrible situations. They're the non-complainers. They're the people with whom you find yourself wanting to spend time because just talking to them is incredibly life-giving. They love you.
Are you a person of hope?
I'll admit it. I am - but I don't always act like it. But my attention was captured today by the words in the prayer from today's Uncluttered Heart post. The idea that hope is something that I actually need to practice hit home. When you practice something, you usually tend to get better at it over time.
So what will it take for me to practice hope today? And in so doing, will I "increase and abound in love" for people, as so many people of hope have abounded in love for me? Yes.
So that Scripture really does have everything to do with Advent...
One of the things I love most about Advent is that it isn't just about waiting for Christmas and remembering the Story. It's also about remembering that the Story isn't over yet. Here's another passage, written by the apostle John, that has everything to do with Advent, too:
I heard a voice thunder from the Throne: "Look, look! God has moved into the neighborhood, making His home with men and women! They're His people; He's their God. He'll wipe every tear from their eyes. Death is gone for good - tears gone, crying gone, pain gone - all the first order of things gone." (Revelation 21:3-4, The Message)
This gives me so much hope. And today, I'm going to remember it, and with His help, try to love Him and love people better simply by practicing a positive, hopeful outlook - no matter what this day may bring. And if I keep at it, one day being hopeful will simply be habit. (I'm hoping for it, anyway.) ;)
leading worship and learning to fly
I remember a night not so long ago, back in my rookie days of being a worship leader, walking out to my car one night after leading worship for our young adult group, and pretty much just weeping with frustration. There was (and is) little else I love more than leading worship, whether I'm doing it from stage or behind the scenes, with music or without - but on that particular night I felt like I'd failed so miserably. It wasn't that things had gone poorly or that people hadn't met with God - they had. But I felt so disconnected from everything that was going on, and it just seemed so... off.
How could I lead people in worship when I had absolutely no awareness or understanding of what God was doing in the room? And it had always been that way, every single time I'd ever led. I felt so... detached. I was certain there was something I was missing, that I was doing something wrong, and I began to question whether or not I was even really called to do this. I longed so much to help people connect relationally with the Lord in worship, but if I couldn't model it - if I couldn't connect - then how in the world could I ever expect to lead worship well?
My mentor, Matt, told me something that night that's stuck with me. "Hap," he said, "Leading worship is kind of like riding a bike. Once you take off the training wheels, you've got your hands full just trying not to fall off. There are so many things to think about - balance, speed, destination, where the brakes are, how and when to shift gears to make it up that hill - and it takes a ton of concentration. You don't see a whole lot of what's going on around you. But if you keep at it, if you keep practicing, there will come a day when you won't have to think about it quite so much. And you'll be biking along, and all of a sudden you'll feel the wind in your face, and you'll look up and there before you will be the most glorious sunset you've ever seen, and you'll take your hands of the handlebars, and you'll fly."
(I'm sure he said it much better than that, but that was the gist of it.) And it's given me so much hope.
I led worship this morning for the first time in awhile, and I walked into church rather wondering if today would be the day. There were moments in rehearsal this week when that metaphorical sunset was glorious; His Presence was so sweet. And every time I've played through this set over the past two weeks, joy has just bubbled up in my soul. It seemed so clear that there was going to be a moment to fly...
And from all reports, there was - and people did. And I'll be honest and say that I did sense His leading as I led, in a way that I haven't always - but it still wasn't quite the soaring I'd hoped for. It was still a lot of thinking about balance and timing and wondering if people were with us or if we'd lost them somewhere during that instrumental back there, and was I going to whack anyone with my guitar if I turned to signal our drummer to bring it down for the next verse? And why, oh, why hadn't I thought to bring a notebook for my music this morning like I usually do, and did we really have time to do both of those songs at the end of the service or should I cut one out on the fly, and.... Well. I'm sure you see where this is going. Lots of thinking, quite a bit of emotional detachment.
Oh, well. There will be other days. And honestly, I'm actually pretty happy that I can walk away from this morning knowing that in spite of the fact that there's still a constant stream of mental chatter when I'm leading, I did actually lead well today, and there's a sense in which I've finally grown up into this calling, however much growing I still have to do. I may not have felt the wind in my face - but I knew it was there.
Mark's told me more than once that he thinks God often doesn't let me see what He's doing when I lead in order to keep me humble and dependent on Him. And if that's what it takes, then I'm so okay with that. But I do have to say - those moments this week when I did fly? They were pretty amazing. Mostly because He's so amazing. And because there, in those moments, I caught the slightest glimpse of His glory.
And it was breathtaking...
How could I lead people in worship when I had absolutely no awareness or understanding of what God was doing in the room? And it had always been that way, every single time I'd ever led. I felt so... detached. I was certain there was something I was missing, that I was doing something wrong, and I began to question whether or not I was even really called to do this. I longed so much to help people connect relationally with the Lord in worship, but if I couldn't model it - if I couldn't connect - then how in the world could I ever expect to lead worship well?
My mentor, Matt, told me something that night that's stuck with me. "Hap," he said, "Leading worship is kind of like riding a bike. Once you take off the training wheels, you've got your hands full just trying not to fall off. There are so many things to think about - balance, speed, destination, where the brakes are, how and when to shift gears to make it up that hill - and it takes a ton of concentration. You don't see a whole lot of what's going on around you. But if you keep at it, if you keep practicing, there will come a day when you won't have to think about it quite so much. And you'll be biking along, and all of a sudden you'll feel the wind in your face, and you'll look up and there before you will be the most glorious sunset you've ever seen, and you'll take your hands of the handlebars, and you'll fly."
(I'm sure he said it much better than that, but that was the gist of it.) And it's given me so much hope.
I led worship this morning for the first time in awhile, and I walked into church rather wondering if today would be the day. There were moments in rehearsal this week when that metaphorical sunset was glorious; His Presence was so sweet. And every time I've played through this set over the past two weeks, joy has just bubbled up in my soul. It seemed so clear that there was going to be a moment to fly...
And from all reports, there was - and people did. And I'll be honest and say that I did sense His leading as I led, in a way that I haven't always - but it still wasn't quite the soaring I'd hoped for. It was still a lot of thinking about balance and timing and wondering if people were with us or if we'd lost them somewhere during that instrumental back there, and was I going to whack anyone with my guitar if I turned to signal our drummer to bring it down for the next verse? And why, oh, why hadn't I thought to bring a notebook for my music this morning like I usually do, and did we really have time to do both of those songs at the end of the service or should I cut one out on the fly, and.... Well. I'm sure you see where this is going. Lots of thinking, quite a bit of emotional detachment.
Oh, well. There will be other days. And honestly, I'm actually pretty happy that I can walk away from this morning knowing that in spite of the fact that there's still a constant stream of mental chatter when I'm leading, I did actually lead well today, and there's a sense in which I've finally grown up into this calling, however much growing I still have to do. I may not have felt the wind in my face - but I knew it was there.
Mark's told me more than once that he thinks God often doesn't let me see what He's doing when I lead in order to keep me humble and dependent on Him. And if that's what it takes, then I'm so okay with that. But I do have to say - those moments this week when I did fly? They were pretty amazing. Mostly because He's so amazing. And because there, in those moments, I caught the slightest glimpse of His glory.
And it was breathtaking...
so, about that "next thing"....
This morning marked the beginning of a whole new season in my life.
I have become an associate pastor at my church.
!!!!!!!
I feel suddenly and unexpectedly grown up.
(tho I will probably get over it...)
My actual tasks from week to week probably won't change much at first, tho there will undoubtedly be a few new things added over time. As Mark pointed out (in one of the many conversations we had this summer, leading up to this decision), becoming an associate pastor is - in many ways - simply giving a name to something God was already doing in my life. He's given me a shepherd's heart, and a lot of leadership gifts that I have slowly (and, at times, fitfully) grown into over the past few years. This morning, my pastor and my church acknowledged that, and they prayed and cheered me into a new season of stepping out into those giftings more fully.
I am... excited. terrified. humbled. joyful. I am certain that I will learn a lot, and that I will grow in ways I can't even imagine. And I am confident that this is "the next thing" in which I am to trust God and simply follow Him.
It's going to be an amazing season.
advent journeys: hope
As previously observed, I love Advent. Currently serving at a non-denominational church that doesn't follow the liturgical calendar, I find myself missing the rhythm of it, especially this time of year. So I decided a couple of weeks ago to do what little I could about it: I bought a book.
My friend Amanda and I are reading The Uncluttered Heart by Beth A. Richardson. It's a daily devotional book that starts the first Sunday of Advent and runs straight thru the 12th day of Christmas. Only 4 days in, I can tell already that it is going to be a sweet few weeks with the Lord. (If you're interested, check out Beth's book and the associated website: unclutteredheart.org - it would be fun if all of us read it together - and every reading stands alone, so you can just hop in, and catch up later.)
So the first week of Advent is about hope....
It was a couple of weeks ago when I wrote about how I was looking for something. I think, in retrospect, that maybe what I was looking for was hope. I hadn't quite realized that I'd lost it. I knew I felt a little stifled, purposeless, not-quite-myself - but I hadn't realized how hopeless I felt, and that hopelessness was ultimately at the root of the deep sadness I felt. Then, this past Sunday, the first Sunday in Advent, I sat down and I read about hope. And I skimmed through the discussion guide and noticed the question: "what are you hoping for this week?" I danced around it. Finally admitted that I was afraid to verbalize what I am really hoping for. Realized this was probably a problem. And went to church.
I had the privilege of worshiping in another country this weekend. I went home over Thanksgiving to visit my family out East and drove back through Canada, and stayed with one of my bestest friends, Cheryl. Cheryl is on staff at a very large church in Toronto that was founded with a huge heart for missions. (My kind of church.) :) This particular morning, they had a guest teacher: born in Wales, missionary to South Africa and several other places, now living in Canada, probably in his 70s, and not a single worry line in his forehead visible onstage. The joy of the Lord shines from within this man - and his passion for seeing the lost come to Jesus pervaded every word of his message.
And it was contagious.
As I listened to him speak about the heart of our Good Shepherd for His lost sheep, and the privilege that we have in being his agents that we so often forsake in what John Stott calls "our guilty silence" - simply not speaking of Jesus - I realized (again) that I have to teach.
It's an interesting grammatical construction that - "I have to..." I could have said "I must." And indeed, I must. It's what I'm called to do. But I have it.... it's been given to me. Teaching. The desire to teach. I'm stifled because I'm not doing it. As a worship leader, I got to teach a little bit. I've missed that. I do teach, here and there. In conversations with people, through letters/emails I write, etc. But that's just like icing on a proverbial cake, you know? The real cake is seriously teaching. Maybe even - dare I say it? - preaching.
I know this isn't new. I've known this for awhile. I've written about it here a number of times, I'm sure. But I've been so stuck in the rut of daily routine that I started to forget that this current daily routine wasn't meant to be a pattern for the rest of my days, but is rather still just a stopping spot - a place to fuel up and ready myself for the next stage of the journey. I wasn't supposed to put down roots so deep that I settled in too comfortably - but I'd started to do that, in spite of a niggling feeling that something didn't feel quite right. I'd settled for "this." I let go of the vision. Proverbs 29:18 says that for lack of vision, people perish - and I've felt the truth of that these past few weeks. In context that verse actually means that without the revelation of God's Word we'd all be dead (and it goes on to say that he who has the law is happy) - but the truth is we need God's word over our lives too. His written Word and His Son are enough - but the God who made dolphins to swim faster than they should be able to and bees to fly when they shouldn't be able to also made us, and has specific plans for us, and we need to be in communion with Him to know what they are. He designed each of us uniquely. And troubled Himself to arrange our moments and our days so that in interacting with each other we would learn and grow and change and become ultimately even more like Him. His design is incredible.
And it was no mistake that His design landed me in Canada on Sunday, hearing a man of God who'd been to South Africa. He didn't even talk about it - but he'd been there. He'd been where I'm going someday. And he believed in the importance of bringing creativity to the mission field, and went out of his way to mention it.
Somewhere out there is a place that fits me, I am sure of it. Or maybe, given this wanderlust, there are several, lol. I don't know where they are, or what they look like, or how I will get there. But I know that I will.
Because on Sunday, I got my hope back. I'm not even sure, really, how it happened. It just did. God gave me hope.
One of Cheryl's friends asked me if I'd been not listening to God or if I'd just been waiting for the pieces to fall into place. It was a good question. It seems I keep forgetting what God has said until reminded (tho being able to search my own blog for themes does come in handy for that; now if only my handwritten journals had that feature, lol!) - but really, I think I've just been waiting. And it feels like maybe that waiting is very close to an end now. Maybe.
It's Advent. The season of waiting. But it's only a season - and that for which we are waiting - it's just around the corner. Jesus is coming. He came, and He's here - and He's coming again.
Spera in Deo.
Amen.
looking for... something
Landing in Geneva, New York - and remembering that sense of "you'll know it when you see it" that preceded landing there - reminds me in retrospect that this, too, is entirely like Him. We hear the words "I know the plans I have for you" quoted out of context and ad nauseum until it becomes a platitude - but the truth is, God did know the plans He had for Israel, and He still does. And likewise, the God who knows how much hair came out in my hairbrush today does indeed know where I'm going and how I'll get there. But to quote Andy Stanley, "direction determines destination," and we don't always need to know where we're going in order to get there. It's enough that He does. We just need to do what we can with what we've got and do our level best to head in the right direction. We will mess this up. It's okay. God knows all about that too, and has what to us will seem like a contingency plan, but really, was probably the plan all along because of all the valuable things we will learn along the way.
I have absolutely no clue what the "destination" of my life is right now - a.k.a. what I'm "destined" to do. There are hints, clues, ideas, guesses - vague thoughts and whispers of dreams - but no real place to head for at the moment. Nothing that I'm certain of. Except maybe going to Africa - but that's not for tomorrow, and I don't know what I'd do there yet.
And yes, I think destiny is partially of our own making, but I believe that's because God gives us the gifts and talents and calling and plans "coincidental" events and meetings between people and allows us to contribute to the making of our lives. Lately I've seen a lot of my gifts and talents begin to lay fallow, and the restlessness I've been feeling for months now has gotten tangled up with frustration and a little bit of depression that comes from not having any real vision to pursue, and my internal search for "what's next" has become a little more frantic. I've felt stifled. Lost. Incredibly sad. Disoriented. Not sure I'm headed in the right direction at all.
But just as following the signs I saw for a hotel did eventually lead me to one, through perseverance, a little faith, the kindness of a stranger who gave me directions when I stopped to ask for them, and the choice to be okay with the fact that I couldn't really see all that well in the dark as I journeyed toward - I didn't know what - so too in life. All I can do right now is go with what I know. The last signs I saw pointed me in this direction. I'm choosing to trust and be okay with the darkness - because I know there's Light here, too. And that stopping to ask for directions is okay. (I am doing that.) And wherever it is I'm going - I will get there eventually. It's disconcerting, yes - looking for something and not being sure what it is that I'm looking for. But I will know it when I see it. Because just like landing in Geneva - it will have His touch written all over it.
on being a nickel
it was announced in church yesterday that two new positions have been created to replace my old position as worship director. one of those positions is that of worship pastor, and the other is that of a creative director. it's become increasingly evident over the course of the past few months, through prayer and through plain common sense, just watching things unfold, that God is calling someone else to lead our band, and i am so excited to see the ways in which God has already grown him as a leader and will continue to do so. he's very gifted, and this role shift will only bless our church.
i'll be taking the role of creative director. my job description? well, i think it's still in process, but it includes not only helping with creative planning for our services and finding new ways to incorporate the arts into our worship, but creating "sacred space" from the moment you walk into the movie theatre until the moment you leave. this is no small task. actually... it's a bit daunting. (and if anyone has any ideas, i'll take them!)
i will miss leading worship. i will. but a dear friend wrote to me yesterday and reminded me that i will still be leading worship - just in a different way. i'll be creating a worship environment. i'll be helping artists in our congregation tap their gifts and offer them to the Lord. and as i do it, i'll be learning what Sacred Space was always meant to teach - how to worship God not just thru a song but with my whole life.
and as John Wimber once said, "i am just a nickel in God's pocket, that He can spend any way He wants to." i think it is good for me to remember that.
this new path i am on - it is a good one, because it is His path. i wanted change. i got it, lol. and i think, as i start down this road, i will only continue to see more and more of the beauty that surrounds me in this new place i am in. and there - just over there around that corner - something amazing is still waiting.
reflections on greatness
Maybe it was because I'd just read this passage that I caught it while watching Prince Caspian last weekend - the funny little contrast between Reepicheep's silly arrogance and his claim to "great humility." It's odd, isn't it - the minute you become aware of your humility, it really isn't humility anymore. And yet it's something that, as believers, we strive for, long for, hope for, ask for - humble hearts, no longer full of pride.
Last week, reading through 2 Samuel 7, I caught something I hadn't before. I knew this passage was about God telling David he wouldn't be allowed to build the temple, but that he would have an enduring legacy. But reading it this time, one of the phrases God used really struck me.
God reminds David, in a message relayed by Nathan the prophet, of the great things He has already done in his life, and then He says,"Now I will make your name great, like the names of the greatest men of the earth." (v. 8-9) Almost instinctively, I asked the Lord, "Why would you tell him that, God?" And almost immediately the answer came: "Because he could handle it."
And he could. David didn't go getting all full of himself - "I'm going to be one of the greatest men on the earth." He "went in and sat before the Lord." (v. 18) Can you picture that? The king of Israel slipping into the tent of the Lord and just... sitting.
And then he says, "who am I?" and "Is this your usual way of dealing with man, O Sovereign Lord?" (v.18-19)
Can you hear the humility? He's not jumping around, shouting it from the rooftops. David is remembering the deeds of the Lord (Psalm 77:11-12), and it draws him to worship. He could have fallen prey to some feeling of "entitlement"- after all, God had promised him he'd be king, and now he was, so it was all just justice now, right? and hey, look at all that time I spent hiding in caves - I should hope I'd get some sort of reward for that, and... No. I doubt that line of thinking ever crossed his mind. David loved the Lord, and the fulfillment of His promises led him not to self-righteous, arrogant pride but to worship.
David worships the Lord for His goodness to him and to His people, and then he accepts God's new promise. "And now, Lord God, keep forever the promise you have made concerning your servant and his house. Do as you promised, so that Your Name will be great forever." (v. 25-26)
In other words, "I'm okay with You making my name great, because it will make Your Name great when You do it."
I want that kind of perspective. I want to want God's promises over my life to be fulfilled not just because they're great (which they are) but because His Name will be made great in my life as I walk into the fulfillment of the destiny He's planned for me. It isn't about me. It's about Him. (says the woman indulging her narcissistic tendencies by blogging and hoping someone will read it.) :P
But it is, really. At least, I want it to be. I want the very fact that I live the life I choose to live - going the places He calls me when He calls me to go, doing the things He wants me to do when He wants me to do them - to point to Him, to His glory, to the greatness of His renown. Something we often pray before band practice is that God will help us to be excellent and to play well together not so everyone will think we're so great but so that we can't possibly be a distraction to anyone by our mistakes and fumbles onstage. We don't want to hit wrong chords or walk into the screens suspended from the ceiling on either side of the stage (not that this ever happens, lol) - not because we want to look/sound polished, but because when we do, people are free to not notice us at all. The music we play, the lyrics we sing, point to something greater - become something greater - than we could ever be on our own, and it gives Him glory when that happens. And I think the same sort of principle can hold true in our individual lives. We can become excellent at the things we do for the wrong reasons, and get all arrogant about it - but there are right reasons to pursue excellence, whether that's excellence at a skill or a job or producing the fruit of the Spirit in our lives or walking in His specific will for our lives, etc. - and the best reason is to give Him glory.
And it's interesting how it's often when you don't notice you're doing it that you are.
If I'm going to be "great" - I want to be great the way David was. If I am remembered for anything, I want to be remembered for the way I walked with the Lord, and the way my life pointed to Him and gave Him glory. And I guess what really struck me reading this conversation between David, Nathan, and the Lord is that you don't have to be oblivious to the gi-normity of God's call on your life (tho to put it in persective a bit, the fact that God calls any of us to anything is pretty gi-normous, right?) - you just need to recognize that it isn't about you going anywhere or doing anything - it's about God being given the glory that was His all along - it's about living your life in a way that inspires others to worship.
Maybe it's just because I'm worship person, but I think that's just cool.
Last week, reading through 2 Samuel 7, I caught something I hadn't before. I knew this passage was about God telling David he wouldn't be allowed to build the temple, but that he would have an enduring legacy. But reading it this time, one of the phrases God used really struck me.
God reminds David, in a message relayed by Nathan the prophet, of the great things He has already done in his life, and then He says,"Now I will make your name great, like the names of the greatest men of the earth." (v. 8-9) Almost instinctively, I asked the Lord, "Why would you tell him that, God?" And almost immediately the answer came: "Because he could handle it."
And he could. David didn't go getting all full of himself - "I'm going to be one of the greatest men on the earth." He "went in and sat before the Lord." (v. 18) Can you picture that? The king of Israel slipping into the tent of the Lord and just... sitting.
And then he says, "who am I?" and "Is this your usual way of dealing with man, O Sovereign Lord?" (v.18-19)
Can you hear the humility? He's not jumping around, shouting it from the rooftops. David is remembering the deeds of the Lord (Psalm 77:11-12), and it draws him to worship. He could have fallen prey to some feeling of "entitlement"- after all, God had promised him he'd be king, and now he was, so it was all just justice now, right? and hey, look at all that time I spent hiding in caves - I should hope I'd get some sort of reward for that, and... No. I doubt that line of thinking ever crossed his mind. David loved the Lord, and the fulfillment of His promises led him not to self-righteous, arrogant pride but to worship.
David worships the Lord for His goodness to him and to His people, and then he accepts God's new promise. "And now, Lord God, keep forever the promise you have made concerning your servant and his house. Do as you promised, so that Your Name will be great forever." (v. 25-26)
In other words, "I'm okay with You making my name great, because it will make Your Name great when You do it."
I want that kind of perspective. I want to want God's promises over my life to be fulfilled not just because they're great (which they are) but because His Name will be made great in my life as I walk into the fulfillment of the destiny He's planned for me. It isn't about me. It's about Him. (says the woman indulging her narcissistic tendencies by blogging and hoping someone will read it.) :P
But it is, really. At least, I want it to be. I want the very fact that I live the life I choose to live - going the places He calls me when He calls me to go, doing the things He wants me to do when He wants me to do them - to point to Him, to His glory, to the greatness of His renown. Something we often pray before band practice is that God will help us to be excellent and to play well together not so everyone will think we're so great but so that we can't possibly be a distraction to anyone by our mistakes and fumbles onstage. We don't want to hit wrong chords or walk into the screens suspended from the ceiling on either side of the stage (not that this ever happens, lol) - not because we want to look/sound polished, but because when we do, people are free to not notice us at all. The music we play, the lyrics we sing, point to something greater - become something greater - than we could ever be on our own, and it gives Him glory when that happens. And I think the same sort of principle can hold true in our individual lives. We can become excellent at the things we do for the wrong reasons, and get all arrogant about it - but there are right reasons to pursue excellence, whether that's excellence at a skill or a job or producing the fruit of the Spirit in our lives or walking in His specific will for our lives, etc. - and the best reason is to give Him glory.
And it's interesting how it's often when you don't notice you're doing it that you are.
If I'm going to be "great" - I want to be great the way David was. If I am remembered for anything, I want to be remembered for the way I walked with the Lord, and the way my life pointed to Him and gave Him glory. And I guess what really struck me reading this conversation between David, Nathan, and the Lord is that you don't have to be oblivious to the gi-normity of God's call on your life (tho to put it in persective a bit, the fact that God calls any of us to anything is pretty gi-normous, right?) - you just need to recognize that it isn't about you going anywhere or doing anything - it's about God being given the glory that was His all along - it's about living your life in a way that inspires others to worship.
Maybe it's just because I'm worship person, but I think that's just cool.
home sweet home
I've always had this vague sense of homesickness... At times it gets place-specific: West Michigan, San Diego, New England...and yes, even Africa, tho I've yet to get there. At other times it gets situation-specific - wishing for an actual house of my own, wanting to rearrange my furniture or paint the walls a different color, dreaming about having a family someday. But most of the time it's just sort of vaguely there. I'm homesick. For something. I don't really know what. For heaven, definitely... but for something between now and then, too - something between eternal life as I know it today and eternal life as I'll know it on the other side of death.
I found out yesterday that this might actually be normal.
I'm in this book-study group called Joshua's Army with my church - once a month we read a book and get together and have dinner and talk about the book. The goal of the course is to, as our pastor puts it, graduate us with the right tools in our toolbox to build a solid, God-honoring life and to lead our community well. So to that end, we're reading everything from books on leadership to intercessory prayer to relationships. This month's book for the girls is "Finding Your Purpose as a Mom: How to Build Your Home on Holy Ground" by Donna Otto. I'm not sure I would have ever picked it up. But it's got some good stuff in it, even for those of us who aren't moms. In the chapter I've just finished, she writes about how having a vision for what your home could look like helps you to make the smaller daily decisions that will lead you to it, much the way having a picture to refer to on the front of the puzzle box helps you put a puzzle together, and how each of us will find that we do actually have a vision for what we'd like our home to look like, whether we've thought much about it or not, because God has built an "essential homesickness into every human soul." (p. 36)
You have no idea how relieved I was to hear that. I'm supposed to be homesick.
Ultimately I think that "essential homesickness" she speaks of is really just a deep longing for things to be the way they were always meant to be. Walking with God in the cool of the evening in the Garden He made for us - in the Paradise of God. And we've never known that, actually, tho if we do walk with God we've caught glimpses here and there, and we do have a sense, deep down, that we'll know it when we see it, and it'll be perfect. "It's not supposed to be like this." An old friend and mentor said that when he was preaching once on the way sin wrecks our lives and our need for mercy, and I can still hear him say it... and there are moments in life when that phrase so definitely applies - and we know it's not supposed to be like this because we know it was supposed to be different. Better. Right. And whatever just happened wasn't right. But if we were home... if we could only get home... it would be okay again.
And that's life. Journeying home. Thank God for the journey, and all we learn on it, but, oh, Jesus - thank You that we're on the way to Home... to You. And that You walk with us every step of the way.
It's a strange thing this longing for home I have, tho - because while I've always had it, I've also always had this restless wanderlust - a need to travel, a need to go places and do things and have adventures... as long as I could come back... to somewhere, someone, something I could call home... I've written about it before - in April of 2007 to be exact. And it was funny, re-reading that post - there are parts of it that are still true and parts of it that aren't. I still want to go see the world and write about it... maybe I should go be a travel journalist or something... but that American dream? 2.5 kids and the white picket fence? Not so much anymore...
And that's not something I ever thought I would say.
I've always wanted that. That was my big career ambition. Get married, settle down, have a family, be happy. And then, a couple of years ago, I started coming to terms with my inner Donna Reed, and started to dare to believe that God might actually have something in addition to that for me. But now... I just don't know. It hit me yesterday that even if I got married next year, and had kids straight off (which is SO not likely to happen), I would be 40 when my oldest was in kindergarten. I'd be in my 60s when they started graduating from college... That's not what I wanted. That wasn't the dream....
So maybe it's time for a new dream...? I'm not sure. There's a part of me that doesn't want to let it go at all. That still wants to hope for "happily-ever-after" - or at least the real-life version of it that comes with people being human. But part of me says, "Hap, maybe it's time to just let it go. Go see the world. Do something with your life."
And I am, actually. Being a part of this church plant is incredibly exciting, and I feel like, at least for now, God's said to put down roots here. That these next few years will be incredible and fruitful, and foundational to something else. But that someday, that train I dreamed about last June will pull out of the station, and I will know that it's time to jump off, and who knows what's waiting at that end of that trail? Destiny? Maybe. Tho I think I'm already living into that here. I don't know. All I know is I'm incredibly homesick this morning...and I wish I knew what I was homesick for...
I found out yesterday that this might actually be normal.
I'm in this book-study group called Joshua's Army with my church - once a month we read a book and get together and have dinner and talk about the book. The goal of the course is to, as our pastor puts it, graduate us with the right tools in our toolbox to build a solid, God-honoring life and to lead our community well. So to that end, we're reading everything from books on leadership to intercessory prayer to relationships. This month's book for the girls is "Finding Your Purpose as a Mom: How to Build Your Home on Holy Ground" by Donna Otto. I'm not sure I would have ever picked it up. But it's got some good stuff in it, even for those of us who aren't moms. In the chapter I've just finished, she writes about how having a vision for what your home could look like helps you to make the smaller daily decisions that will lead you to it, much the way having a picture to refer to on the front of the puzzle box helps you put a puzzle together, and how each of us will find that we do actually have a vision for what we'd like our home to look like, whether we've thought much about it or not, because God has built an "essential homesickness into every human soul." (p. 36)
You have no idea how relieved I was to hear that. I'm supposed to be homesick.
Ultimately I think that "essential homesickness" she speaks of is really just a deep longing for things to be the way they were always meant to be. Walking with God in the cool of the evening in the Garden He made for us - in the Paradise of God. And we've never known that, actually, tho if we do walk with God we've caught glimpses here and there, and we do have a sense, deep down, that we'll know it when we see it, and it'll be perfect. "It's not supposed to be like this." An old friend and mentor said that when he was preaching once on the way sin wrecks our lives and our need for mercy, and I can still hear him say it... and there are moments in life when that phrase so definitely applies - and we know it's not supposed to be like this because we know it was supposed to be different. Better. Right. And whatever just happened wasn't right. But if we were home... if we could only get home... it would be okay again.
And that's life. Journeying home. Thank God for the journey, and all we learn on it, but, oh, Jesus - thank You that we're on the way to Home... to You. And that You walk with us every step of the way.
It's a strange thing this longing for home I have, tho - because while I've always had it, I've also always had this restless wanderlust - a need to travel, a need to go places and do things and have adventures... as long as I could come back... to somewhere, someone, something I could call home... I've written about it before - in April of 2007 to be exact. And it was funny, re-reading that post - there are parts of it that are still true and parts of it that aren't. I still want to go see the world and write about it... maybe I should go be a travel journalist or something... but that American dream? 2.5 kids and the white picket fence? Not so much anymore...
And that's not something I ever thought I would say.
I've always wanted that. That was my big career ambition. Get married, settle down, have a family, be happy. And then, a couple of years ago, I started coming to terms with my inner Donna Reed, and started to dare to believe that God might actually have something in addition to that for me. But now... I just don't know. It hit me yesterday that even if I got married next year, and had kids straight off (which is SO not likely to happen), I would be 40 when my oldest was in kindergarten. I'd be in my 60s when they started graduating from college... That's not what I wanted. That wasn't the dream....
So maybe it's time for a new dream...? I'm not sure. There's a part of me that doesn't want to let it go at all. That still wants to hope for "happily-ever-after" - or at least the real-life version of it that comes with people being human. But part of me says, "Hap, maybe it's time to just let it go. Go see the world. Do something with your life."
And I am, actually. Being a part of this church plant is incredibly exciting, and I feel like, at least for now, God's said to put down roots here. That these next few years will be incredible and fruitful, and foundational to something else. But that someday, that train I dreamed about last June will pull out of the station, and I will know that it's time to jump off, and who knows what's waiting at that end of that trail? Destiny? Maybe. Tho I think I'm already living into that here. I don't know. All I know is I'm incredibly homesick this morning...and I wish I knew what I was homesick for...
beth: the richness of God's Word
How can a young man keep his way pure?
By living according to Your word.
I seek You with all my heart;
do not let me stray from Your commands.
I have hidden Your word in my heart
that I might not sin against You.
Praise be to You, O Lord;
teach me Your decrees.
With my lips I recount
all the laws that come from Your mouth.
I rejoice in following Your statutes
as one rejoices in great riches.
I meditate on Your precepts
and consider Your ways.
I delight in Your decrees;
I will not neglect Your word.
- Psalm 119:9-16
I had a dream a couple of weeks ago that I can't stop thinking about. Some friends and I were walking down this country lane, just talking and enjoying the day together, and suddenly I noticed an object laying in the road as we walked past. "Hold up a sec, you guys," I called, as I turned around to go back and pick it up. To my surprise, it was my old study Bible, tho the cover was missing now, and it looked rather beat up. As I stood again and turned around, suddenly scattered all over the road there were Bibles, covered in the dust of the road, and my friends were going around, picking them up, and together we collected as many as we could, with the intent of returning them to their owners as quickly as we could, so they could be used again.
As I've prayed about it, it seems to me that one of the things God was speaking to me through that dream is part of the answer to my prayer for understanding of my purpose and my calling. It's about restoring God's Word to people - returning it to its rightful place in our lives, in a sense. My Bible in that dream had been neglected, abused, forgotten, left to collect dust, and trampled a bit on a road - which in both dreams and metaphor generally seems to represent the idea of "journey," or life. In the dream, as soon as my Bible had been restored to me, I was able to see the other Bibles on the road. And in real life I know every one of those people I was with in the dream to be men and women who esteem God's Word highly, and it was sweet to know that this call, this task I've been given, was a shared task.
I love the imagery in these verses - the simplicity of the questions, and the answer. How do I live a good life? How do I keep my way pure? How do I not sin? By doing it God's way, and not mine.
"I rejoice in following Your statutes as one rejoices in great riches."
What if we really believed that? What if we really felt that way? What if, instead of just saying that God's Word is a treasure, we lived out that truth? What if we truly were that glad to have God's Word with us - to read it, to memorize it, to talk about it everywhere we go and all the time (Deuteronomy 6:4-9), to think about it, and to do what it says (James 1:22-25)?
"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all that he had and bought that field." - Matthew 13:44
I want to treasure God's Word that much. "I delight in Your decrees; I will not neglect Your word."
Teach me to delight in Your word. Amen.
By living according to Your word.
I seek You with all my heart;
do not let me stray from Your commands.
I have hidden Your word in my heart
that I might not sin against You.
Praise be to You, O Lord;
teach me Your decrees.
With my lips I recount
all the laws that come from Your mouth.
I rejoice in following Your statutes
as one rejoices in great riches.
I meditate on Your precepts
and consider Your ways.
I delight in Your decrees;
I will not neglect Your word.
- Psalm 119:9-16
I had a dream a couple of weeks ago that I can't stop thinking about. Some friends and I were walking down this country lane, just talking and enjoying the day together, and suddenly I noticed an object laying in the road as we walked past. "Hold up a sec, you guys," I called, as I turned around to go back and pick it up. To my surprise, it was my old study Bible, tho the cover was missing now, and it looked rather beat up. As I stood again and turned around, suddenly scattered all over the road there were Bibles, covered in the dust of the road, and my friends were going around, picking them up, and together we collected as many as we could, with the intent of returning them to their owners as quickly as we could, so they could be used again.
As I've prayed about it, it seems to me that one of the things God was speaking to me through that dream is part of the answer to my prayer for understanding of my purpose and my calling. It's about restoring God's Word to people - returning it to its rightful place in our lives, in a sense. My Bible in that dream had been neglected, abused, forgotten, left to collect dust, and trampled a bit on a road - which in both dreams and metaphor generally seems to represent the idea of "journey," or life. In the dream, as soon as my Bible had been restored to me, I was able to see the other Bibles on the road. And in real life I know every one of those people I was with in the dream to be men and women who esteem God's Word highly, and it was sweet to know that this call, this task I've been given, was a shared task.
I love the imagery in these verses - the simplicity of the questions, and the answer. How do I live a good life? How do I keep my way pure? How do I not sin? By doing it God's way, and not mine.
"I rejoice in following Your statutes as one rejoices in great riches."
What if we really believed that? What if we really felt that way? What if, instead of just saying that God's Word is a treasure, we lived out that truth? What if we truly were that glad to have God's Word with us - to read it, to memorize it, to talk about it everywhere we go and all the time (Deuteronomy 6:4-9), to think about it, and to do what it says (James 1:22-25)?
"The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all that he had and bought that field." - Matthew 13:44
I want to treasure God's Word that much. "I delight in Your decrees; I will not neglect Your word."
Teach me to delight in Your word. Amen.
snow fly
"Like the coolness of snow at harvest time is a trustworthy messenger to those who send him; he refreshes the spirit of his masters." - Proverbs 25:13
I love the snow. I always have. Growing up on the ocean coast of New England, we didn't see much of it. A good snowstorm happened maybe once every 4-5 years. We got a good bit of icy rain (and the accompanying school closings) but it just wasn't the same. We longed for a good two feet of snow. (I am not sure if we ever actually got it.) So you can imagine how thrilled I was the first year I lived in Michigan, and we had so much snow that you had to jump down two feet from the sidewalk into the road - and you were walking next to 4 foot high banks of it on occasion.
It is snowing today, and the quiet hush that comes with it does wonders for my soul. As the noise of the world outside is slightly cushioned by the snowfall, so the noise in my soul quiets just a bit as I sit with a cup of coffee, curled up under a blanket, and simply watch the snow fly. I love this moment. It's as though the world, like one enormous snow globe, has been turned upside down and shaken; and now it is still, and upright again, and nothing moves but the snow. And it is beautiful. May it be so with my soul... no matter what shakes it.
I looked up snow in the Bible today, just to see what God had to say about it. I found all the things you might expect to find about our sin being made whiter than snow by the blood of Christ... (black + red = white) - but I also found this proverb, and I like it. At first what captured my imagination was simply the picture of snow falling (preferably at the end of harvest) and the beauty of it, the welcome nature of the changing of the seasons, the promise of the coming holidays - but then it started to sink in. "Like the coolness of snow at harvest time is a trustworthy messenger to those who send him; he refreshes the spirit of his masters."
A trustworthy messenger - someone who can be trusted to deliver the message he's been told to deliver - refreshes the spirit of his masters. What do you think of when you hear the word refreshment? It's something that quenches thirst or quells hunger, it satisfies, it makes you glad... it makes you feel the way I feel when after a long and crazy day, I get to sit down with a cup of coffee and watch it snow. And snow always comes with a purpose, whether we know what it is or not... browsing through all those verses, I read that "as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is My word that goes out from My mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it." (Isaiah 55:10-11)
So I want to be like this snow. I want to be someone whom God finds refreshing. I want to know that I've been sent with purpose (whether I know what it is or not), and I want to be trust-worthy. I want to be someone who, when the world has been turned upside down and shaken, continues to fall softly with purpose into exactly the place that's been marked out for me...
I love the snow. I always have. Growing up on the ocean coast of New England, we didn't see much of it. A good snowstorm happened maybe once every 4-5 years. We got a good bit of icy rain (and the accompanying school closings) but it just wasn't the same. We longed for a good two feet of snow. (I am not sure if we ever actually got it.) So you can imagine how thrilled I was the first year I lived in Michigan, and we had so much snow that you had to jump down two feet from the sidewalk into the road - and you were walking next to 4 foot high banks of it on occasion.
It is snowing today, and the quiet hush that comes with it does wonders for my soul. As the noise of the world outside is slightly cushioned by the snowfall, so the noise in my soul quiets just a bit as I sit with a cup of coffee, curled up under a blanket, and simply watch the snow fly. I love this moment. It's as though the world, like one enormous snow globe, has been turned upside down and shaken; and now it is still, and upright again, and nothing moves but the snow. And it is beautiful. May it be so with my soul... no matter what shakes it.
I looked up snow in the Bible today, just to see what God had to say about it. I found all the things you might expect to find about our sin being made whiter than snow by the blood of Christ... (black + red = white) - but I also found this proverb, and I like it. At first what captured my imagination was simply the picture of snow falling (preferably at the end of harvest) and the beauty of it, the welcome nature of the changing of the seasons, the promise of the coming holidays - but then it started to sink in. "Like the coolness of snow at harvest time is a trustworthy messenger to those who send him; he refreshes the spirit of his masters."
A trustworthy messenger - someone who can be trusted to deliver the message he's been told to deliver - refreshes the spirit of his masters. What do you think of when you hear the word refreshment? It's something that quenches thirst or quells hunger, it satisfies, it makes you glad... it makes you feel the way I feel when after a long and crazy day, I get to sit down with a cup of coffee and watch it snow. And snow always comes with a purpose, whether we know what it is or not... browsing through all those verses, I read that "as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is My word that goes out from My mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it." (Isaiah 55:10-11)
So I want to be like this snow. I want to be someone whom God finds refreshing. I want to know that I've been sent with purpose (whether I know what it is or not), and I want to be trust-worthy. I want to be someone who, when the world has been turned upside down and shaken, continues to fall softly with purpose into exactly the place that's been marked out for me...
finding vision - part 2
"Hope is hearing the music of the future. Faith is to dance to it." - Reuben Alves
I think the orchestra might be on holiday...
So... I'm obviously in a bloggy mood today. :) And I've been thinking a lot about hope. It's been kind a recurring theme this year, actually. Learning to hope, recognizing that it's something I have struggled with for awhile, trying now to figure out what to hope in...
Our pastor says to hope in God, and not in what we think He's said. He isn't advocating not believing God's promises in His Word - rather he's refering to those things we feel God has told us about specific situations. And I get that - to a degree. Rachel's post on hope this week spoke into that, actually...
But that leaves me with a question.
What do you with it when you feel like God has promised you something? What do you do with it, when you look at a mountain, and you see your future on it? Do you say, "thanks for the promise, God?" and go on with your life as if nothing has happened? Or do you say, "NO! I am going to believe this no matter what." And how do you know for sure that God spoke?
Our series at Torch right now is about relationships. We're being encouraged to believe for godly mates. Which is great... but okay, seriously, statistically - we can't possibly all get married because there are more women than men in the world. I just want to point that out...
One of the things that stuck with me from that prayer meeting last night was a call issued to the church at large to step it up in the area of adoption - to be the hands and feet of Christ to the "unwanted" - to become parents to an otherwise parent-less generation. I have always wanted to adopt. I have always wanted to be a mom. And I have always wanted a large family.
Praying last night, and remembering all of this, I found myself crying out to the Lord about it all. I know that I can be a "mom" whether I'm married or not. Amy Carmichael was Amma to hundreds of children in India, and she never married. In fact, she turned down a perfectly good proposal from a man she truly loved to stay in India and continue her work there.
Is it weakness to say that I don't want that?
Is it weakness to say, "God, I will go wherever You want me to go, and I will do whatever You want me to do, but please, will you either take away my desire to be married altogether and make me okay with the thought of a life lived alone, with You alone as my husband, or could we just get on with this?" I am 33 years old. I do not want to be having babies when I am 40.
And how do you adopt a million kids and yet travel all over the world? Which is an equally strong desire of my heart right now... And on what pretext do you do that - travel all over the world, I mean? What is my calling? What is God's vision for my life? All I know are pieces of it. Teaching. Singing. Mentoring. Writing. Travel. A passion for His bride and for the unity of the church. Concern for my generation, and the way we seem to be, in general, so lost... even those of us who aren't eternally lost are still wandering about (many of us) wondering what we're supposed to do with our lives and looking for meaning...
It seems to me that it would be so much easier to determine a vision for my life if I knew this one piece... but maybe that's just an excuse. I don't know.
Just thinking. And trying not to be too depressed about it. Failing rather miserably at the moment. :( But knowing that for all that it's completely cliche, it really will be alright. God knows His plan. And it's a good one. Far better than anything I could have ever come up with on my own. And the thing is, I love my life right now. I know that I am serving God well as a single woman, and I am glad for the freedom I have. I just wish... I don't know. I wish I knew for sure whether it's something I should hope for, getting married someday - or if throwing in the towel and giving up on that dream altogether is something I can somehow manage to do without a trace of bitterness, regret, or hard-heartedness. If He'd just say - I think I could be okay with it. Really... But right now, I'm really not. Right now I am really tired of waiting for "someday."
Rant over. Now seeking chocolate...
I think the orchestra might be on holiday...
So... I'm obviously in a bloggy mood today. :) And I've been thinking a lot about hope. It's been kind a recurring theme this year, actually. Learning to hope, recognizing that it's something I have struggled with for awhile, trying now to figure out what to hope in...
Our pastor says to hope in God, and not in what we think He's said. He isn't advocating not believing God's promises in His Word - rather he's refering to those things we feel God has told us about specific situations. And I get that - to a degree. Rachel's post on hope this week spoke into that, actually...
But that leaves me with a question.
What do you with it when you feel like God has promised you something? What do you do with it, when you look at a mountain, and you see your future on it? Do you say, "thanks for the promise, God?" and go on with your life as if nothing has happened? Or do you say, "NO! I am going to believe this no matter what." And how do you know for sure that God spoke?
Our series at Torch right now is about relationships. We're being encouraged to believe for godly mates. Which is great... but okay, seriously, statistically - we can't possibly all get married because there are more women than men in the world. I just want to point that out...
One of the things that stuck with me from that prayer meeting last night was a call issued to the church at large to step it up in the area of adoption - to be the hands and feet of Christ to the "unwanted" - to become parents to an otherwise parent-less generation. I have always wanted to adopt. I have always wanted to be a mom. And I have always wanted a large family.
Praying last night, and remembering all of this, I found myself crying out to the Lord about it all. I know that I can be a "mom" whether I'm married or not. Amy Carmichael was Amma to hundreds of children in India, and she never married. In fact, she turned down a perfectly good proposal from a man she truly loved to stay in India and continue her work there.
Is it weakness to say that I don't want that?
Is it weakness to say, "God, I will go wherever You want me to go, and I will do whatever You want me to do, but please, will you either take away my desire to be married altogether and make me okay with the thought of a life lived alone, with You alone as my husband, or could we just get on with this?" I am 33 years old. I do not want to be having babies when I am 40.
And how do you adopt a million kids and yet travel all over the world? Which is an equally strong desire of my heart right now... And on what pretext do you do that - travel all over the world, I mean? What is my calling? What is God's vision for my life? All I know are pieces of it. Teaching. Singing. Mentoring. Writing. Travel. A passion for His bride and for the unity of the church. Concern for my generation, and the way we seem to be, in general, so lost... even those of us who aren't eternally lost are still wandering about (many of us) wondering what we're supposed to do with our lives and looking for meaning...
It seems to me that it would be so much easier to determine a vision for my life if I knew this one piece... but maybe that's just an excuse. I don't know.
Just thinking. And trying not to be too depressed about it. Failing rather miserably at the moment. :( But knowing that for all that it's completely cliche, it really will be alright. God knows His plan. And it's a good one. Far better than anything I could have ever come up with on my own. And the thing is, I love my life right now. I know that I am serving God well as a single woman, and I am glad for the freedom I have. I just wish... I don't know. I wish I knew for sure whether it's something I should hope for, getting married someday - or if throwing in the towel and giving up on that dream altogether is something I can somehow manage to do without a trace of bitterness, regret, or hard-heartedness. If He'd just say - I think I could be okay with it. Really... But right now, I'm really not. Right now I am really tired of waiting for "someday."
Rant over. Now seeking chocolate...
an unexpected gift
I was given a gift last night that I suspect I may treasure always. It isn't the kind of gift you can put on a shelf, or in your pocket. It was simply something that happened.
A couple of years ago I wrote a song for someone. It's actually a worship song, but it was inspired by his story, and it was one of those songs that sort of wrote itself, and has served as a kind of a standing stone to remind him (and our community in general) of what God has done. We've been singing it off and on for awhile, and a lot of people in our community now don't even know the story, and some of them don't even know I wrote it, which is actually kind of fun, because it means the song has taken on a life of its own - but up until now, I'm the only one who has ever led it. And up until last night, (and I know this will sound strange, but it's true) I had no idea if it even really meant anything to my friend. He never said. And I never asked.
But last night, someone else was leading worship, and my song was part of the set, and I had the immense privilege of standing in the back of the room and hearing an entire roomful of people sing my song. It was one of the most humbling and exhilarating moments I have ever experienced. But it gets even better. About halfway through the song, I looked over, and my friend that I wrote it for was standing in the back by the doors, and he had the biggest grin on his face. It was one of those smiles that you can't really give words to - but it expressed joy, and intimacy with the Father - and just knowing his story, I knew he was remembering. It was one sweet moment.
A couple of years ago I wrote a song for someone. It's actually a worship song, but it was inspired by his story, and it was one of those songs that sort of wrote itself, and has served as a kind of a standing stone to remind him (and our community in general) of what God has done. We've been singing it off and on for awhile, and a lot of people in our community now don't even know the story, and some of them don't even know I wrote it, which is actually kind of fun, because it means the song has taken on a life of its own - but up until now, I'm the only one who has ever led it. And up until last night, (and I know this will sound strange, but it's true) I had no idea if it even really meant anything to my friend. He never said. And I never asked.
But last night, someone else was leading worship, and my song was part of the set, and I had the immense privilege of standing in the back of the room and hearing an entire roomful of people sing my song. It was one of the most humbling and exhilarating moments I have ever experienced. But it gets even better. About halfway through the song, I looked over, and my friend that I wrote it for was standing in the back by the doors, and he had the biggest grin on his face. It was one of those smiles that you can't really give words to - but it expressed joy, and intimacy with the Father - and just knowing his story, I knew he was remembering. It was one sweet moment.
responsible song writing 101
As a worship leader, I pay pretty close attention to what the words of our songs are actually saying. Songs are interesting things. With the possible exception of annoying restaurant birthday songs, they generally have the potential to be extremely meaningful - or to drive us crazy. Ever turned off the radio just because that song came on again? Or turned it up because "oh, i love this song!!"
It is no different on Sundays - or Monday nights. And part of my job (which is really difficult) is helping our community to create a song culture that reflects good theology, is incredibly singable, culturally relevant, and... well - a lot of things, really, but right there - "culturally relevant..." Put two people in a room and you already have two cultures. Try it with ninety and see how far you get finding a song that they'll all love. :)
So we do our best.
One of the issues that came up early on in my worship leading career was the fact that I'm a woman. (um, surprise?) No, actually, it wasn't the women-in-ministry debate - it was simply that I'm naturally a first soprano, but guys can't sing in those keys. So over time I've become an alto, and I sing everything way lower than is comfy at times, but it's helped our guys to connect a little better, so losing my upper register was worth it. But I think it's because I'm so in the habit of thinking about how to help the guys in our group encounter the Lord through music (tricky as many of them claim to be joyful noise-makers), this video really caught my attention. What do you think about this?
It is no different on Sundays - or Monday nights. And part of my job (which is really difficult) is helping our community to create a song culture that reflects good theology, is incredibly singable, culturally relevant, and... well - a lot of things, really, but right there - "culturally relevant..." Put two people in a room and you already have two cultures. Try it with ninety and see how far you get finding a song that they'll all love. :)
So we do our best.
One of the issues that came up early on in my worship leading career was the fact that I'm a woman. (um, surprise?) No, actually, it wasn't the women-in-ministry debate - it was simply that I'm naturally a first soprano, but guys can't sing in those keys. So over time I've become an alto, and I sing everything way lower than is comfy at times, but it's helped our guys to connect a little better, so losing my upper register was worth it. But I think it's because I'm so in the habit of thinking about how to help the guys in our group encounter the Lord through music (tricky as many of them claim to be joyful noise-makers), this video really caught my attention. What do you think about this?
the end of the masquerade
One of my favorite movies - possible the favorite movie - is Ever After. If you have not seen it, I would highly recommend it. A "real life" Cinderella story, complete with masked ball... does it get better than that? Oh, yes, it does. There are gypsies and a swordfight. (And those of you who love this movie as much as I do are reliving the best scene right now.) The rest of you need to go rent it. Yes, it's a chick flick. And their French is terrible. But it's a good story. And did I mention there's a swordfight? (Cinderella wins.)
So there's a scene towards the end of the movie where Cinderella goes to the Masque - the ball the King is throwing to celebrate the engagement of his son to ... no one knows whom. The prince and Cinderella have fallen in love, but she can't marry him under false pretenses, so Cinderella goes to tell him the truth about who she is - and the conversation goes horribly wrong. He isn't listening to her, and she's betrayed by her family in front of the entire court before she has the opportunity to explain the real masquerade that their relationship has been up to this point. He is understandably upset, and allows his pride to overshadow his love for the girl... they do patch it up and live happily ever after eventually, but it takes them awhile to get there, and it's pretty awful in betweentimes...
I've been thinking about that whole masquerade thing all week. A friend of mine, when I told him about that dream I had last week, basically said, "Hap, don't read more into it than is there, but look at the message - you're afraid of the consequences of being seen for who you really are. Your whole life you've played so many roles based on the expectations (or perceived expectations) that have been placed upon you. Over the past year, you've done a lot to step out of that masquerade and to just be yourself - but since you've been burned in the past for it, of course you're starting to fear that it will happen again." (He said it all a lot better than that, and I am kicking myself for not writing it down earlier.) He had a point. And, I suspect, a direct line to heaven on that one. There's a lot of truth to that, and I run up against it in the oddest places sometimes.
Tomorrow my friend Stephie is preaching on fasting, and she's interviewing me and another friend of ours about our experiences fasting. I'm glad she asked because it is a discipline that I really love (I know that sounds funny, considering prior things I've written about that, but God has so changed my heart about it), and the opportunity to make the discipline of fasting personal to someone (as in, "Oh, well, this person I know has managed to fast, and this is how it went, so maybe I can too...") is exciting - but there's also this weird zone attached to it that I am really wrestling with...
The two passages I come back to over and over again on fasting are Isaiah 58 and Matthew 6: 16-18. I've written a couple of times about Isaiah 58 and how significant that passage has been to me. But I'm suddenly finding that actually standing up in front of people and talking about it is really hard! Fasting is such a personal and private thing, and the things for which I have been fasting and praying this year are so intensely personal - and I'm just not sure how to talk about it and still be vague enough to guard my privacy yet truthful enough to communicate that there are actual situations in which this discipline has proven effective - how to talk about how sweet it is to throw yourself in the gap for someone you love who needs God to intervene on their behalf and to let your hunger drive you to a deeper hunger for the Lord and for His kingdom to come... without actually explaining the situations themselves. How to talk about Isaiah 58 when God continues to use it to change everything... And I'm being vague....
It is simply that in learning to say Kaddish this year, I have discovered that part of God's purpose in calling to me to fast the way I do is to "loose the chains of injustice" over my life... and that "not turning away from my own flesh and blood" (Isaiah 58:7) isn't just about the past but about the future too - and that "the glory of the Lord" being "my rear guard" means that God's got my back and that He can redeem my past to help others become free - but that in order to do that, He needs me to tell the truth - the whole truth - about me. My story. Everything. Probably not all at once...lol. But bit by bit. And while blogging has done so much over the past two years to help me start doing that... the call is to people I can see as well as those of you who are kind enough to read these ramblings...
So I guess it's time to break character...? Tomorrow will be interesting anyway. (insert wry grin here) I wonder what I'll actually say...
...and am hoping for a happy ending. Pun so absolutely intended.
So there's a scene towards the end of the movie where Cinderella goes to the Masque - the ball the King is throwing to celebrate the engagement of his son to ... no one knows whom. The prince and Cinderella have fallen in love, but she can't marry him under false pretenses, so Cinderella goes to tell him the truth about who she is - and the conversation goes horribly wrong. He isn't listening to her, and she's betrayed by her family in front of the entire court before she has the opportunity to explain the real masquerade that their relationship has been up to this point. He is understandably upset, and allows his pride to overshadow his love for the girl... they do patch it up and live happily ever after eventually, but it takes them awhile to get there, and it's pretty awful in betweentimes...
I've been thinking about that whole masquerade thing all week. A friend of mine, when I told him about that dream I had last week, basically said, "Hap, don't read more into it than is there, but look at the message - you're afraid of the consequences of being seen for who you really are. Your whole life you've played so many roles based on the expectations (or perceived expectations) that have been placed upon you. Over the past year, you've done a lot to step out of that masquerade and to just be yourself - but since you've been burned in the past for it, of course you're starting to fear that it will happen again." (He said it all a lot better than that, and I am kicking myself for not writing it down earlier.) He had a point. And, I suspect, a direct line to heaven on that one. There's a lot of truth to that, and I run up against it in the oddest places sometimes.
Tomorrow my friend Stephie is preaching on fasting, and she's interviewing me and another friend of ours about our experiences fasting. I'm glad she asked because it is a discipline that I really love (I know that sounds funny, considering prior things I've written about that, but God has so changed my heart about it), and the opportunity to make the discipline of fasting personal to someone (as in, "Oh, well, this person I know has managed to fast, and this is how it went, so maybe I can too...") is exciting - but there's also this weird zone attached to it that I am really wrestling with...
The two passages I come back to over and over again on fasting are Isaiah 58 and Matthew 6: 16-18. I've written a couple of times about Isaiah 58 and how significant that passage has been to me. But I'm suddenly finding that actually standing up in front of people and talking about it is really hard! Fasting is such a personal and private thing, and the things for which I have been fasting and praying this year are so intensely personal - and I'm just not sure how to talk about it and still be vague enough to guard my privacy yet truthful enough to communicate that there are actual situations in which this discipline has proven effective - how to talk about how sweet it is to throw yourself in the gap for someone you love who needs God to intervene on their behalf and to let your hunger drive you to a deeper hunger for the Lord and for His kingdom to come... without actually explaining the situations themselves. How to talk about Isaiah 58 when God continues to use it to change everything... And I'm being vague....
It is simply that in learning to say Kaddish this year, I have discovered that part of God's purpose in calling to me to fast the way I do is to "loose the chains of injustice" over my life... and that "not turning away from my own flesh and blood" (Isaiah 58:7) isn't just about the past but about the future too - and that "the glory of the Lord" being "my rear guard" means that God's got my back and that He can redeem my past to help others become free - but that in order to do that, He needs me to tell the truth - the whole truth - about me. My story. Everything. Probably not all at once...lol. But bit by bit. And while blogging has done so much over the past two years to help me start doing that... the call is to people I can see as well as those of you who are kind enough to read these ramblings...
So I guess it's time to break character...? Tomorrow will be interesting anyway. (insert wry grin here) I wonder what I'll actually say...
...and am hoping for a happy ending. Pun so absolutely intended.
Two Conversations
"There are more colors on the palette of your soul than you have even begun to paint with."
My friend Matt said that to me years ago, during one of the last times I had the privilege of sitting in his office, learning everything I possibly could from him about how to lead worship and do it well. I can still say that most of what I get right is because Matt taught me how to do it, and I will always be grateful for that season of discipleship.
More colors....
When Matt said that, I completely burst into tears, and when he asked why, I couldn't explain it anymore than to simply say, "Because it's true!!" and I knew that it was, but I hadn't the slightest idea what he meant by it.
Last week after I preached, Mary, one of our mentors at Torch, stopped me to give me a huge hug and tell me how proud she was... (which is just cool in and of itself from someone you look up to as kind of a mom) and then she looked at me for a minute, and she said, "This is the road, isn't it?"
It is. I don't how I know that, and I'm not sure what that means, but "this" - whatever it is, and it involves teaching - is the road.
I'm kind of floored by that right now...
"Teach me your way, O LORD, and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name." - Psalm 86:11
My friend Matt said that to me years ago, during one of the last times I had the privilege of sitting in his office, learning everything I possibly could from him about how to lead worship and do it well. I can still say that most of what I get right is because Matt taught me how to do it, and I will always be grateful for that season of discipleship.
More colors....
When Matt said that, I completely burst into tears, and when he asked why, I couldn't explain it anymore than to simply say, "Because it's true!!" and I knew that it was, but I hadn't the slightest idea what he meant by it.
****
Last week after I preached, Mary, one of our mentors at Torch, stopped me to give me a huge hug and tell me how proud she was... (which is just cool in and of itself from someone you look up to as kind of a mom) and then she looked at me for a minute, and she said, "This is the road, isn't it?"
It is. I don't how I know that, and I'm not sure what that means, but "this" - whatever it is, and it involves teaching - is the road.
I'm kind of floored by that right now...
"Teach me your way, O LORD, and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name." - Psalm 86:11
that... was incredible
So preaching Monday night was probably one of the coolest things I have ever done. I was really nervous going in (but you knew that!) and as I stood in front of all those people and Mark prayed over me, the expected and dreaded adrenaline rush hit, and I thought, oh no! I'm a goner... oh, Lord, please help!
And He did. :)
I was totally fine, and while I know I have years worth of growing to do, and that there are probably a dozen ways in which it could have been better - that was a really good first run. And it feels strange to say that, like it's prideful or something, but I feel like I had so little to do with it - really, I'm just grateful, because there are so many ways I could have totally screwed that up, and I didn't. In fact, God really used me to speak, and I'm sure I don't even have a clue as to half of what He did. I am so honored, and so humbled, that He would do that...
And afterwards, a handful of people were waiting around to talk to me, to tell me how God had spoken to them, and to tell me their stories about hard things going on in their lives - and I got to pray with them, and see God at work in ways I could never have anticipated Sunday night, as I sat editing and re-editing, and doing my best just to be faithful to His word and what was kind of on my heart to say... It didn't go perfectly - but that didn't seem to matter - God's Word just went out and did what it does - and to be allowed to carry it was just an immense privilege... I'm honestly not even sure that it's really sunk in yet... I actually preached ... and it went well!
And He did. :)
I was totally fine, and while I know I have years worth of growing to do, and that there are probably a dozen ways in which it could have been better - that was a really good first run. And it feels strange to say that, like it's prideful or something, but I feel like I had so little to do with it - really, I'm just grateful, because there are so many ways I could have totally screwed that up, and I didn't. In fact, God really used me to speak, and I'm sure I don't even have a clue as to half of what He did. I am so honored, and so humbled, that He would do that...
And afterwards, a handful of people were waiting around to talk to me, to tell me how God had spoken to them, and to tell me their stories about hard things going on in their lives - and I got to pray with them, and see God at work in ways I could never have anticipated Sunday night, as I sat editing and re-editing, and doing my best just to be faithful to His word and what was kind of on my heart to say... It didn't go perfectly - but that didn't seem to matter - God's Word just went out and did what it does - and to be allowed to carry it was just an immense privilege... I'm honestly not even sure that it's really sunk in yet... I actually preached ... and it went well!
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