meditation for worship and communion on All Saints Day

I had the privilege of teaching last night at worship and communion, and thought I'd share my thoughts with you as well.  :)


On the table next to my bed is a collection of things that are very special to me.  I half-jokingly refer to it as an altar, because most of the objects on this table are actually icons - objects that, at least for me, point past themselves to God.

There are a lot of things on this little altar, but here are just a few:

There's a birthday card from a friend and mentor.  On the inside, he wrote, "God does have a plan for your life, Happy, and it is greater than your dreams."  This card came at a time when I really needed to hear that, and he had no idea how timely his words were.  And now, every time I see it, I am reminded that it's true - that God's dreams for me are greater than my own, and that His plan is perfect and can be trusted.  The card is an icon that leads me into His presence and inspires me to worship Him for who He is: Jehovah Jireh, my Provider.

Another icon that reminds me of God's provision is a car key. My senior year in college, I took a job - the only job I could find - but it was across town, and I had no way to get there. I was telling a friend about my dilemma, and right then and there, he just gave me his car, for the whole year.  His generosity reminds me to be that ridiculously generous, and this key reminds me that even when I can't see a way, God always has a plan and will provide exactly what I need.

There's also a nickel - which reminds me of something a man named John Wimber said once.  He said, "I am just a nickel in God's pocket, and He can spend me any way He wants to."  That quote really hit me the first time I read it - and comes to mind often (usually when I don't want to be spent the way I'm pretty sure God wants to spend me...)  The quote reminds me that I belong to Jesus, not to myself, and that acknowledging His sovereignty - His Lordship over my life -  is always the best way to live, and that surrendering my life is actually an act of worship.  Again, it's an icon, connected to a story that points me to Jesus.

There are a lot of icons that the church has turned to over the years as well: things like the cross, stained glass images of Bible stories, sometimes even actual church buildings... We have to be careful with icons - it can be easy to turn an icon into an idol if we're not careful.  How can you tell if you're doing this?  The minute an icon becomes more important to us than the One to whom it is supposed to point us, we're in trouble - but icons can actually be very helpful in assisting us, as His word tells us in Psalm 77, to remember the deeds of the Lord.

It occurred to me as I was thinking about communion this weekend that Jesus gave us an incredible gift in this sacrament that we celebrate.  This loaf of bread and this cup are icons that point past themselves to Jesus, and remind us of what He's done.  We come to the Table, we see these two things, and we instantly remember that we are saved solely by grace through faith in Christ, and not by anything we've ever done.

This is the story: God's word tells us in Matthew 26 that "while they were eating, Jesus took bread, gave thanks, and broke it, and gave it to His disciples, saying, "Take and eat; this is my body."  Then He took the cup, gave thanks, and offered it to them, saying, "Drink from it, all of you.  This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins."

We know from Scripture, especially passages like 1 Corinthians 11, in which Paul gives instructions to the church as to how to celebrate it rightly, that the church very early on began to celebrate what God had done for them in Christ by eating bread and drinking the cup together.  Communion is a centuries-old feast of remembrance, and in coming to this Table tonight, we do, as Paul says, "proclaim the Lord's death until He comes."  We remember the amazing grace that was given to us as Jesus went to the cross for OUR sins, and we give thanks.  And we come together, as Christians have always done, because this gift was for ALL of us.

So tonight, as you come to the Table, I simply want to encourage you to stop for a moment and remember.  This is a serious moment.  We come to this Table with great joy and gratitude, but Paul also warns us to come with a proper mindset.  He says, "...whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord.  A man ought to examine himself before he eats of the bread and drinks of the cup.  For anyone who eats and drinks without recognizing the body of the Lord eats and drinks judgment on himself." (1 Cor. 11:27-29)

So let's take a few minutes to pause and reflect.  What is it that Lord has done for us?  What has He saved us from?  Is there any sin in our hearts that we haven't confessed to Him yet?  Let's clear that up now, confess what we need to, and receive His forgiveness where we need it.  And then come joyfully, together, each of us as we're ready, to celebrate and remember the mercy and the grace that was given to us through His broken body and shed blood, represented by this loaf of bread and this cup - icons that remind us of a very simple, but very profound truth:  God loves us.

In the Reformed church, where I spent a lot of time in college, at this point in the service, they say, "come, for all things are now ready."  I love that - because the truth is, Jesus HAS prepared this table for you, in the presence of your enemies, and because of His death and resurrection - surely goodness and mercy WILL follow you, all the days of your life, and you will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

So come, for all things are now ready.

rest in peace

A friend of mine died on Monday.  It was an automobile accident, late at night, very sudden, very unexpected.

I didn't know him super well, not nearly as well as many of my friends did, but he was a great guy.  Shy.  Quiet.

Completely in love with the Lord.

And now he's home.

It's a little unreal.

My heart is breaking for the people who knew him best.  Who will miss him more than I can imagine missing anyone.  Who will need to say Kaddish.

Rest in peace, Rylan.  We are so very glad for you that you are home with Him, but you will be greatly missed.

random ramblings, vol. 5

it's been over a year since my last post to the random ramblings series, so here you go: random ramblings, in no particular order of importance (if any).

1) did you know chaos is actually orderly?  i'm pretty sure it's true.  i read part of an entire book about it for my AP Calculus class in high school.  and no, i can't recall a single time i've ever used anything else i learned in AP Calculus.  (actually I can't recall much of anything else i learned in that class, either.)  but i did retain that random fact, and one other: cauliflower is self-similar.  if you don't believe me, go look at a head of cauliflower.  every little piece of the cauliflower looks like a miniature version of the larger head of cauliflower.

i am pretty sure i've remembered this mostly because cauliflower is such a cool word.  and i have a vague recollection of actually writing an entire philosophy of ministry paper using the self-similarity of cauliflower as a major introductory illustration.  i don't remember what i argued or why, but i remember doing it....  if i ever find the paper, i may revisit this random rambling.  :)

2) those of you who have been reading my blog for some time will be happy (i hope!) to note that (drum roll, please...): there is no longer a single (basket/ container/ drawer/ bag/ box/ what-have-you) of junk mail anywhere in my flat.  (insert cheering noises here.)  this has, unfortunately, had a negative impact on my kitchen table.  but being as how i have people over every now and again, the pile tends to be eradicated at least once every two weeks, which, as you know, is a drastic improvement over times past.  it's the little things in life...  :)

3) i am sorry to report that i am once again not making coffee in the mornings.  :(  i love coffee.  i love it dearly.  but even decaf is not sitting well these days.  sadness.  (sniff) but yay for Mayan Chocolate Tea.

4) i am reading a book entitled Overcoming the Dark Side of Leadership (How To Become An Effective Leader by Confronting Potential Failures) by Gary L. McIntosh and Samuel D. Rima.  (i'm reading it for a book-club-ish type small group.)  it's actually not quite as gloom and doom as I feared from the title; lots of very interesting case studies.

but i'm about 3/4 of the way thru, and in the section you might consider "practical application," the authors are discussing the process by which you actually begin to deal with the darker side of your personality.  they've gone to great lengths to explain that having a dark side is normal, and that it's just part of being human.  now they're trying to take the edge off the fact that actually dealing with it can be (especially when you're starting out) a long and daunting, time-consuming, tough, emotional process - by explaining what the process doesn't entail.

And I quote:

the process does not require you to "utter cathartic screams of inner cleansing."

what does it say that I read that and felt disappointed?  lol.

personally, i think sometimes all you need is one great big long cathartic scream of inner cleansing.  it may not actually fix anything, but it IS actually somewhat cathartic.  (read - it makes you feel better.)  ;)

5) i have 22 lbs of apples in my kitchen, just waiting to be made into pies and applesauce.  YUM.

6) my third annual road trip with Jesus was awesome.  and it was in August.  i am sorry i did not take pictures this year, but i will still try to write about it a bit - hopefully this weekend.  :) 

7) i sat in a chair at a local coffee shop tonight that was labelled (by my friend) as "an epic fail."  who knew chairs could fail epically?  but this one did.  it looked like it was going to be an amazingly comfortable leather chair.  the sort you just sink into and don't want to get out of.  ever.

it wasn't.

leaving the sidelines

I had an unusual dream a couple nights ago. In a lot of ways, it was just one of those standard, wow, my brain just super-imposed a lot of different things from my normal day-to-day life in a really strange way sort of dreams. But as I've been thinking it over the past couple of days, it seems to me that God was actually speaking through it.

I dreamed that a very good friend of mine from another church came to lead worship for Torch one day, but we weren't in a theatre; we were in a small stadium, complete with tiered seats, sections, and seating along the sides of the stage. Rehearsal was going well. I remember being extremely happy as conversations took place, watching friends from two distinct parts of my life connect and become friends and serve the Lord together. I also remember being extremely busy, running about, getting things done, answering questions, managing details - you know, all the stuff that usually makes up my pre-service Sunday mornings. :)

And then it was time. People were filling the seats, the lights were about to come up, and the service was about to start. The band walked onstage, and I took a seat at the side of the stage, expecting a birds' eye view, and wanting to be close to the action.

And then this gigantic tent popped up and covered the entire stage, and I couldn't see anything. I could hear the music, and I could see the packed room erupting in heart-felt worship, but I couldn't see a thing except the side of this ridiculous tent. It was so disappointing. A friend from the band came to sit with me when they were done, but she sat where she could see and we talked across a gap of a few chairs. She was sympathetic, which was nice, but it didn't help me see, or connect to anything that was going on in the room.

And then my alarm went off.

Weird, I thought - and laughed a little at some of the strange superimpositions. The tent in particular amused me because I knew where it came from in real life (it's small and plastic, lol). And I didn't really think anything of it, at first - but the dream kept re-surfacing in my head all day, and I found myself thinking about it again last night as we were praying at a leadership meeting.

And I feel like what the Lord is saying to me through it is this: I have a choice about where I sit.

How often do I choose to sit on the sidelines, watching what's going on around me, instead of getting smack in the middle of it? I'm not saying this is always a bad choice - as an introvert and a wallflower, I rather like it, and it's emotionally healthy to be there... sometimes. But how much do I miss, when I choose the sidelines? Where do I need to take a risk and sit right in the middle of things, becoming an active participant instead of a passive observer?

I'm not 100% sure what the answers to those questions are, but I think mostly it's the principle of the thing - simply being aware that, while heaven knows I'm knee-deep and in the center of a lot of things, there are probably areas where I need to step out a little more. Maybe I need to be a little more intentional about talking to people I don't know very well and asking them to tell their stories. Maybe I need to comment a little more often (instead of being a silent reader) on the amazing blogs that my friends (both those I've met and those I haven't) write. Maybe I need to be a little more proactive about just telling people how good God is, without waiting to be asked to tell my story.

Maybe? No, I do.

What about you? Where do you sit? And where do you want to?

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...

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.

Happy Birthday, Torch Church!

It's hard to believe it's been a whole year already. It's been a wild ride, and full of God's favor. Here are a few fun facts in honor of Torch's first birthday:

1) 80 people gave their lives to Jesus this year at Torch.

2) We have gone from being a young adult ministry to being a multi-generational and ethnically diverse community in only a year.

3) We STILL have new people coming almost every week. (They don't always come back, but sometimes they do!) We began with a core group of about 40 people - some of whom are no longer with us - and our weekly attendance now averages 70-100 people per week.

4) It has not rained or snowed in any significant way during load-in or load-out AT ALL for an ENTIRE year of Sundays. (What are the odds of that?!)

For all its trials and tribulations, it has been one amazing year. We've all grown up a lot, I think - there was so much we didn't know when we started, and some of the learning curves were tough. We've learned - sometimes by fire - the importance of community, of intentionality in relationship, of sometimes setting aside the never-ending task lists to just hang out and have fun - and we have seen the glory of God on display in our services and in the refining He's done in our lives as we've brought our hearts and our giftings and offered them to Him. It's been a truly incredible year.

Next year looks to be pretty exciting, too... I'm looking forward to new adventures in simply trusting God, and doing the next thing. ;)

reconciling with Oswald

My Utmost for His Highest.

I started reading it when I was in college, but found I disliked it, rather intensely. There was truth in it, but I felt so judged. So short of the mark. So I put it back on the shelf, where it collected dust, until finally I admitted to myself that I was only keeping it because it was reportedly part of any well-read Christian's library. I "wasn't ever going to read it" - so I gave it away, probably to Goodwill - maybe to a friend who wanted it - I have no idea. Either way, it's gone now.

And I'm finally, years later, a little bit sorry.

I listened to an audiobook this spring - David McCasland's Abandoned to God - a biography of Oswald Chambers. I have no idea what on earth possessed me to download it. Likely it was more that Someone in heaven prompted me to do it. It is one of the best books I have ever heard, and I am looking forward to someday owning a print copy to mark up. As the story neared the end, I found myself hoping that Oswald would not die, even though I knew he would. I was sad to come to the end of the book - it felt like losing a dear friend. I think I will likely listen to it again this summer - it was that good.

Oswald and I would have been friends, I think. He had a passion for seeing the arts restored to the church. He loved nothing better than long walks in the country and the company of good friends, talking about the Lord and His great love for us. He wrote some pretty amazing letters. He was funny. He loved music. He loved to travel. He learned to trust God through some very tight financial times. And he exercised his faith. Feeling undeniably called to it, Oswald and his wife once rented an enormous house to serve as a school - before they ever had a single student or a stick of furniture to put in it. Eventually, the Chambers and several of their students would serve overseas as missionaries in Egypt during the war. Oswald died there, of complications from appendicitis - and his wife, who had transcribed almost every message he had ever taught, devoted much of the rest of her life to publishing them. My Utmost for His Highest is actually a collection of short summaries from hour-long messages he preached to soldiers camped in Egypt. Knowing that, and knowing more of the adventurous, kind spirit behind the words, makes me want to read it again - for now I know that the man who spoke those words would never have spoken condemnation into anyone's life.

Oswald and his wife lived their life together by a very simple mission statement: "Trust God, and do the next thing." They dreamed often of what could be - prayed over those dreams, and asked the Lord for direction - but at the end of the day, even when they were certain of what God was calling them to (and when they were not), they left the future in His hands, and simply did what they knew was in front of them to do for that day. This seems to me to be a very wise way to live one's life.

My pastor told me recently that over the past few months he's watched me let go of what seemed at one time to be an almost desperate desire to know the "destination" (where are You calling me, God? and what am I supposed to do with my life?!) in favor of embracing the journey - the life lessons and joys of the here and now. It made me glad to see that what God began working in my life last fall was actually visible to someone else. I still have a lot of hopes and dreams for the future - many of which seem ridiculously unattainable - but I am less concerned than I used to be with how I will get there, or when, or even if - and much more concerned with living this life I've been given well. I do not always succeed at it; I have a remarkable gift for mucking things up sometimes. But I find myself more watchful for what today holds than I used to be. And it is good.

So today? Laundry. Dishes. Picking up a little. Going for a good long bike ride this afternoon. Cooking. Reading. Being at rest. And getting some stuff done for Torch tomorrow. It's our last week of a nine week sermon series, the staging for which involved a great many live plants, which I have been schlepping back and forth weekly. I am giving most of them away to any home that will take them, and looking forward to getting my windowsill back. It's the little things in life.... ;)

exactly....

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

HT: The Thinklings

Book Review - Plan B, by Pete Wilson

Pete Wilson's book, Plan B, is ultimately about walking with God through the toughest parts of life. Wilson writes compassionately and honestly as he discusses the question that all of us, in various ways, face in the midst of pain and disillusionment: "God, where are You?"

Wilson tells a lot of stories, from the Bible, from his own life, and from the lives of people he knows. It is evident that the compassion he feels as he writes comes from walking closely with a lot of people who have suffered through great heartache, and his constant encouragement throughout the book is to not give up, but to turn to the One who can help and heal us - and to trust Him with our lives.

I wanted to like this book; I really did. Unfortunately, I really had trouble getting my mind around the basic concept of the book. Just because things aren't going my way doesn't mean I'm stuck in some sort of "plan B" - which sounds to me like an inferior plan. The very "plan A" versus "plan B" analogy seems to me to walk some dangerous theological ground. Wilson did try to explain that by "plan B" he means that things aren't going the way we would have chosen - but what seems to us like "plan B" isn't a secondary plan to God at all, and I don't feel that Wilson explained that very clearly.

There is a lot of good truth in this book - I highly recommend the parts where he quotes Scripture! - but much of the book felt a little preachy to me, and there were parts of the book where I felt he was reading into Scripture through the lens of the point he was trying to make. Still, he tells some good stories that illustrate truth, and his heart is in the right place. So I'll give it 2.5 stars - no, actually, 3. The study guide at the end has some really great questions.

Disclosure in agreement with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255 "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising": I received this book for free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.

Book Review - Kaleidoscope: Seeing God's Wit and Wisdom In A Whole New Light - by Patsy Clairmont

With wit and wisdom of her own, Patsy Clairmont has written a tremendously engaging book about some of the truths found in the biblical book of Proverbs. Kaleidoscope: Seeing God's Wit and Wisdom in A Whole New Light is, in and of itself, a kaleidoscope of humor, honesty, truth, and humility that shows the reader not only the beauty of God's Word, but also the beauty of what He can do in the lives of those who seek to know Him and to walk in His ways.

The book of Proverbs includes a number of short and concise words pictures that communicate truth. Using a kaleidoscope as a word picture of her own, Patsy illustrates in short and concise chapters some of the ways in which even the most broken bits and pieces of our lives can be transformed into something beautiful, when held up to the light of God's Word. Each chapter contains a brief meditation on a single Proverb, complemented by humorous stories from Patsy's own life, followed by a "bits and pieces" section full of thought-provoking questions for either personal reflection or group discussion, and closing with a few other Scriptures that tie in with the theme of the chapter.

I absolutely loved this book and highly recommend it. Patsy writes honestly and empathetically, and is so incredibly funny - and yet the truths she communicates from God's Word are deep and life-changing. There is so much depth and beauty in this book. I'm already looking forward to re-reading it! It's that good. Five stars out of five.

Disclosure in agreement with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255 "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising": I received this book for free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.

why i love music

music just says things you can't really say with words. sometimes Latin helps. and an international choir. and technology. but mostly it's the music. this ... is just achingly, prophetically... beautiful.

lenten journeys: self-control

Self-control is a big deal in Lent. I mean, you give up coffee for forty-seven days and you learn how automatically you tend to head for the kitchen first thing in the morning. You start to hear yourself say "NO!" a little more often, and (realizing this is very negative) begin to teach yourself to look at that nice healthy green tea and say "Yes...." (in a very cajoling "I know you don't want it, but it's good for you" sort of way). Thank heaven for soy chai tea lattes!

This year I'm finding the Lenten season to be teaching me self-control on a deeper, and probably more lasting level than the usual "giving something up" routine, tho, and I'm really glad for it. Part of what I'm doing this year, rather than simply giving things up, is trying to become a better steward of what I have - and so to begin, I made a decision to not go to the store until I'd eaten the food I already have.

Can I tell you how sick I am of frozen soup?

I love to cook. I don't have a ton of time to do it, so I tend to cook a lot over the weekend and eat leftovers all week. I also tend to make ginormous crock pots full of soup and freeze half of it for later. Kashi frozen entrees are also a staple item - and living 10 minutes from two really nice grocery stores is also handy.

It's been incredibly challenging these past couple of weeks. I don't think I realized how often I would just run to the store because I wanted something. So, after two weeks of eating mostly frozen soup, I have become a menu planner. Yes, there is still a week's worth of soup in my freezer. No, I would not starve. Yes, I might go batty if I don't eat something else. So I am going shopping today. At the small grocery store half an hour away that sells mostly organic and locally produced food, at far lower prices than the bigger and more convenient stores down the road. And I have a list.

Already, in just two weeks, I am watching my diet and my finances change for the better, just by exercising a little bit of self-control: a fruit of the Spirit that, while not absent from my life, did need a little tending to help it grow in some areas. It's been a good - if soup-y - journey thus far. And I am so looking forward to something different for dinner tonight! (Tho I will confess, in the interest of full disclosure, that I have been to the store a couple of times to pick up frozen pizza. But that was more because a frozen Kashi pizza is my Friday night thing, and not having one on hand was the result of very poor pre-Lenten planning. Next Friday's pizza is already in the freezer. And I am choosing not to have it for lunch...)

lenten journeys: rediscovering sabbath rest

Over the past couple of years, the rhythm of my life has changed frequently. A little less than two years ago, I was leading worship at another church on Sundays. A year ago, I wasn't going to church at all. Now I'm... well, I don't really have a title, but I do stuff for Torch.

Finding Sabbath rest in the varied rhythms of each of these three seasons has looked a little different. Two years ago, I think I sort of took a Sabbath on Saturdays, and once a month, tried to take a whole afternoon as a "Geneva Day." Last year, being temporarily "unchurched," I generally had all day Sunday, and was pretty serious about making that a Sabbath day. Now, being very churched on Sundays (and often several evenings per week), I've been pretty disciplined about taking a Sabbath from Friday night to Saturday night. I don't do it perfectly. Occasionally I sneak in a few emails and whatnot - but I do try really hard to make sure I have a large chunk of time that I'm not doing church stuff, and am intentionally resting, reading, reflecting, relaxing, etc. I spend time with friends, I watch movies, I cook dinner. It's nice.

Yesterday... yesterday, I did not do that. Yesterday I woke up, turned on the computer, and started catching up on a lot of administrative whatnot that I've been putting off, partly because I knew it was going to time-consuming and I didn't have time to get it done, and partly because I tend to procrastinate. I spent probably a good eight hours of my day yesterday getting stuff done that I needed to get done. I also talked to my mom, and watched the Olympics, and had dinner. I'd been up late on Friday, and toward evening, I began to get a little crabby because I was tired, but I caught a second wind and got back to work, and the evening ended up being really fun, rehearsing for what turned out to be a really good service this morning, and building a slideshow. It was fun and creative, worshipful even, and I went to bed tired, but happy - and feeling rested.

How did that happen? Is it possible that, while not keeping the Sabbath as I usually do, I didn't completely break it either? I'm not sure. There are all kinds of legalistic arguments running through my head on both sides of the issue. But here's what I know: I had a lot of stuff hanging over my head that really needed to get done, and it's done now, and I can relax and not worry about it anymore. I had an early and busy, but super-worshipful and fun day today, and then I got to come home and watch a movie and have some tea and blog for awhile, and today - for all that I "worked" in the morning" has been a super-restful day, at least internally. Yes, I'm tired. I can also go to bed early, because all my stuff is done.

So which day was my Sabbath? Yesterday, when I stayed home and got stuff done, but didn't have to go anywhere and was able to spend half the day in my pjs drinking tea and being productive? Or today, when I had to be out the door early and serve at my church, but spent quality time with people and had some down-time too?

I have no idea. Maybe they were both a bit of Sabbath and a bit not. But as I wrestled with guilt over not being lazy yesterday, I went back to what Jesus said to the Pharisees about Sabbath-keeping. No, my inbox wasn't a sheep in a pit that needed to be rescued. But honestly - I kind of felt like a sheep in a pit, and that pit is way less deep now than it was at midnight on Friday. I'm not intending to make a habit out of making Saturdays my catch-up days. As a matter of fact, next Saturday I am sleeping in, going to the grocery store (with a list), and meeting my friend Eric for coffee at a book store. (And by "coffee", I mean a soy chai tea latte.)

But for this week - well, as Jesus reminded the Pharisees, the Levites broke a lot of Sabbath laws. They had to, to do their jobs. God knew how much I needed a day just to plow through and get my stuff done, and while far from lazy, it was a really good day - and so was today.

lenten journeys: learning to breathe

Today is the first day of Lent, and as usual, I'm a little reflective. This is the beginning of a long season. 40 days (47 if you count Sundays) until we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus - one of the absolute best parts of the amazing Story we live in. I am looking forward to Holy Week! But between now and then.... 47 days.

Julie wrote a beautiful post this week about Lent and her journey with the practice of "giving something up" for Lent. Giving something up is, as she says, about sacrifice - but you're not supposed to do it just for the sake of doing it. The point is to allow the discipline of sacrificing something to be a tool in God's hands, to allow Him to transform you. It was a timely reminder as I begin my own Lenten journey: I am not giving up coffee and junk food and all the other various and sundry things I feel led to cut out of my diet just for the sake of doing it - nor even for the sake of becoming more healthy, tho that will likely happen. I am giving them up because the very act of doing so will teach me discipline and self-control and point me to Jesus, and in His presence, I will be changed for the better. I will become more of the person He means me to be. I will learn some things along this stretch of the road that, while it's possible I could learn elsewhere, I am choosing to learn here.

Lent often feels a little desert-like. I had a dream the other night, and in it was this vast desert-scape: mesas painted glorious shades of reds and browns and khakis, and tufts of dying grass. It was beautiful and barren. And I heard Him say, "I am the one who speaks life to the desert." And then I sensed, rather than saw, that it was all about to change. The desert was about to become a lush valley, full of trees in bloom and rushing streams. It was just about to happen...

And I believe this is part of what my journey this Lenten season will be - watching God speak life into me. It begins, I discovered this morning, with learning to breathe (again). Breathing out my contrition. Breathing in His mercy. Breathing out my frustration with how packed my schedule is right now. Breathing in His ability to walk with me through it and lead me to still waters, even in the midst of it all. Breathing out my whacked perspectives. Breathing in His wisdom. And sometimes - simply sitting still in the middle of all the chaos for 20 seconds and remembering to breathe. God once hovered over the chaos of the deep - and spoke life into it. So I pray with the words of this hymn:

Hover oe'r me, Holy Spirit,

Bathe my trembling heart and brow;

Fill me with Thy Hallowed Presence

Come, oh, come and fill me now.

Fill me now, fill me now,

Holy Spirit, fill me now.

Fill me with Thy Hallowed Presence,

Come, oh, come, and fill me now.

- Elwood H. Stokes, 1879

(c. Public Domain)

Come, oh, come, and fill me now. Amen.

*sidenote: courtesy of The Upper Room and The Uncluttered Heart, I found The Awkward Season this morning. I'll be using this as my devotional for Lent this year, if anyone wants to join me. (some of my thoughts here were sparked by her post this morning.)

on loving your neighbor - and loving yourself

I've been thinking a lot about love these past few days. Love is so simple, yet sometimes feels like such a complicated thing.

About two and a half years ago or so, a meme went around, asking questions about Christianity, addressing negative stereotypes, but also asking what it is that we should be known for. I said, that in a word, it's this: Love. Based on 1 Corinthians 13, I argued that it wasn't "the frilly, fancy, red paper hearts, sappy valentine type of love" that we should be known for, but rather, "Real love. Tough love."

Love that is patient when it could be easily frustrated. Love that is kind when it could have chosen to be cruel. Love that isn't envious of the blessings of others even in the absence of blessing to itself. Love that is humble and quiet, not boastful and self-centered. Love that chooses to forget the wrongs done to it; love that refuses to stay angry, even though it has every right to be upset. Love that rejoices with everything that is good and true and right in the world, and weeps over that which is not. Love that protects fiercely, that trusts unyieldingly even when it doesn't understand, that hopes unswervingly against all odds, and that perseveres no matter what. Love that refuses to fail. Love that embraces grace, that extends it, that doesn't give up. Love that recognizes it can't be earned. Love that mourns sin and celebrates repentance. Love that is meek enough - gentle enough - to both hear and tell the truth. Love that hungers for righteousness. Love that extends mercy. Love that is pure in heart. Love that seeks peace, at great cost to itself. Love that will not shy away from persecution of any kind, because its purpose is greater than any temporary pain. Love that is... Love. (He is also known as Jesus.)

I believe that. I do.

And yet here I am, faced with a situation in which I have no idea how to practically, actively love.

The details don't really matter. The briefest summation is that I have a friend who had ceased, by personal choice, to be my friend - but who now wants to

re-establish that connection.

Justice says, "No way."

God says, "Love your neighbor as yourself."

But how do I do that?

It's taken me a long time to learn how to love myself. There's so much that God has healed in me - and so much more yet to heal. But I am learning to take care of myself. To choose friendships that are life-giving and not toxic. I am learning to guard my heart more carefully - to be open, but cautious. I am learning - sometimes sadly - to choose carefully whom I trust.

So what do I do? What do I do with this old friend who wants to be my friend again? History tells me that this is not a safe investment. Experience tells me that it is unwise.

But love tells me that rejecting him is not an option.

I have every right to be upset. To be cautious. To resist. To say no.

But love extends mercy. Holds unswervingly. Celebrates repentance. Embraces grace. Perseveres. Does not give up.

I want to. Oh, how I want to give up, to walk away, to say "NO! I am not risking again. I do not want to be hurt." But love will not let me say that. At least not to his face.

So how do I do it? How do I love my friend, but love myself too? How do I love him as I love myeslf? How do I protect him, show him the grace that God has given him, and stick with him as Jesus would, yet establish wise boundaries that will take care of me too?

Maybe it is simply by forgetting that it's possible I'll be hurt again. Maybe it's by knowing it is possible, but acting as if it weren't. (that whole "if someone asks you to walk a mile with them, then walk two" thing...) Or - maybe... maybe it's by gently and lovingly pointing out the truth: your actions (and lack thereof) have been hurtful, my friend. It is not okay that you left. I am glad you are back, but please - please, don't do that again....

I am not sure. I do not know what to do. But I am praying - oh, how I am praying! - that I will. For in spite of the hurt I have suffered by his absence, I do so love my friend.

Oh, Jesus. Please teach me how to love as You do. You so dearly loved Judas, despite what You knew was in his heart - You did not deny him Your friendship. Please give me the strength to love my friend that much.

Jemila wrote something yesterday that touched my heart so deeply as I've been praying about this. She said that it's possible to write "new endings to old story-lines." My friend and I have been down this road before, in different circumstances, but with the same basic plot. But maybe - maybe - this time will be different. I don't know. But walking away from this means loss. For both of us. There has already been loss. But maybe we can both learn and grow and become more like Jesus, if I stay. If I choose the way of love. A way that makes no sense in a world of justice, but makes so much sense in the world of mercy, which - He tells us - triumphs over justice anyway.

on discovering confidence

i had one of those moments this morning - one of those moments that doesn't have a name but really ought to. it was a moment where i saw myself doing something that six months ago i would never have done, and yet today it was so natural and normal... and i thought - wow, i've changed... but when did that *happen*?

i think i randomly mentioned a few months ago that i'd started taking a Zumba class at my gym. when i signed up for it, one of my BFFs told me to expect to feel like an idiot for the first month, but not to worry - i'd get the hang of it eventually. "oh, great..." i thought.

but i went anyway. and yes, i felt like an idiot. for much longer than a month! but it's been fun. and good exercise. and somehow knowing that i was going to feel like an idiot made it easier to feel that way. and, somewhere along the line, in spite of the fact that i still don't nail every step in every routine, i stopped competing with my perfectionistic self - and making mistakes and getting past them (without wasting time being embarrassed) became normal.

now if only i could transfer that to the rest of my life, lol...

this morning, i went to class, and was, for a change, early... and not only did i end up actually talking to people, but i also took a front row spot in the class. no more lurking in the back row, trying not to be noticed. people were watching me today, and i didn't care.

when did that happen? :)

i've thought about that, off and on, all day. taking Zumba has taught me to have confidence - but how did it do that?!

maybe it was simply survival. you look like a fool if you don't put at least a little bit of attitude into some of those steps. (tho it could be argued that i still look like a fool, lol!) or maybe it was the music.... i don't know. but i walk out of class every week feeling a little more confident in myself, and today, dancing in the front row - it felt good to be able to recognize what God's been doing in me all along these past few months, where i hadn't seen it. and it just makes me wonder - what else is God doing in me that i'm simply not seeing yet?

food for thought.

advent journeys: peace

How many times have I said it?
"Peace be with you."
"And also with you."
"Amen."

It occurred to me today that these words from the liturgy are so much more than just words. They are a blessing, and a heartfelt prayer. Made in the image of the God who speaks life in being, who said "Let there be light!" and there was light, our words have power. When we speak peace over each other, we are declaring it to be so. And when we say "amen," we are asking God to let it be so. "This thing we just said, God - this blessing, this wish for peace for our brother, or our sister - please. Let it be so. Let them be at peace." At rest. Healed. Whole. Well. Completely and utterly their ontological selves. Who they were always meant to be.

I haven't always thought about it that way. But it is what we're saying.

The last reading in Beth A. Richardson's The Uncluttered Heart this past week was about being a shalom bringer - the kind of person who brings the fullness of God's peace to people - and I'm pretty sure I met one yesterday.

I tend to steer clear of the holiday crowds, but my laptop bag got swiped last week, and with it (unless it is buried in the untidy-ness of my room) the cable that attaches my camera to the computer. So I went to buy a new one.

An older gentleman, new to the store and a bit overwhelmed by the phone ringing and all the people asking for help, nevertheless went out of his way to help me. After looking everywhere he could think of, he found someone else and asked him about it. "Oh," came the answer. "We don't carry that kind of cable here. You might try this other store." The gentleman who'd been helping me look for the past 5 minutes turned to me and said genuinely, "I'm so sorry. I hope you find one. Thank you so much for your patience." And then he smiled, reached out and touched my shoulder, and wished me a good evening. And he meant it.

I walked away feeling incredibly cared for, and at peace.

Maybe it wasn't a big deal to him. Maybe he's a Christian and behaving that way comes naturally as a result of the work Jesus has done in his heart. Maybe he was simply a kind person. I don't know. But in the middle of a crazy workday, he took the time to see me - not as yet another consumer who needed something, but as a person - and to wish me well.

It mattered. It made a difference to my day. And it made me wonder: how many dozens of opportunities do we have each day to make that kind of a difference, in His Name?

God, make me the kind of person that leaves others feeling that cared for, the kind of person who speaks your peace into the lives of others. Amen.

And friends - may grace and peace be yours in abundance through the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord. (2 Peter 1:2) Amen.

Santa Claus is blogging again!!!

It's true!

and Santa, it seems, is keeping up with the times. now, you can even follow him on Twitter.

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.

timing is everything

So I will grant you that driving until almost 3 am was probably not the brightest thing I could possibly have done, but being in Geneva - an appropriate first stop - put me on a path that led me through the right places at the right times on Day 2. If i'd stopped driving four hours earlier on Day 1, I would have hit Vermont and New Hampshire in the dark, and missed everything.

I took the highway most of the way to New England, but about 2/3 of the way through New York, I got off the toll road and onto the back roads, and it was the best decision I ever made. And this, too, is life. Sometimes getting out of the fast lane and taking a more leisurely pace through life is exactly the best thing.

No, I didn't take a GPS. But I did take an outdated atlas. :) So I figured out - as I went - which roads to look for and how to get across each state - and the road I took out of New York and into Vermont led me straight through the Green Mountain National Forest.

It was as beautiful as I'd always heard it would be.

There's a spot on the side of the road where, on a clear day, you can see for 100 miles. It wasn't a clear day, but since (true to form) someone had built a store across the street, I stopped. I got maple syrup and maple sugar candy (and one piece did actually make it all the way home!) and a couple of post-cards that I will probably never actually get around to mailing. And I just stood there - in the rain - and looked.

And as I drove through the mountains, and simply soaked in the beauty of God's creativity displayed in the trees and rocks and skies around me, I felt myself slowly becoming myself again. Recklessly and ontologically me. At least for a couple of hours. I caught myself smiling for no reason at all. Came close to almost thinking nothing at all.

It was heavenly, resting while driving. And this is why I do it. I do love to travel, tho 12-14 hours a day in my car does feel like overdoing it a bit. But the peace that comes in those moments when it's just me and God and we're not working on anything or talking thru any issues, but just resting in the fact that He loves me and I love Him, and I'm in awe again of the God who paints with this kind of passion and creativity - it's totally worth it.

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.

"you'll know it when you see it"

The first day of a road trip with Jesus tends to be a long drive day. I'm eager to get wherever I'm going - only sort of but not quite thinking about the fact that the journey is the destination. I know this in my head, but I'm still going somewhere, and I want to find out where. So I press on. Sometimes pretty late at night.

So I'm driving along on the highway, and I'm watching exit signs, and I notice something that amuses me... they've re-numbered their exits, but just to make sure you still know where you're going, there's a little sign under the bigger exit sign that says "Old Exit ---" with whatever number it used to be. How thoughtful! :)

I think I want to get off at Exit 47 - I'm pretty sure that's number I heard when I asked Him - so I'm watching the signs, and I go past Exit 45 - and I keep driving, thinking we're almost there - and then I see: Exit 61.

Did I miss something here?

But then I keep driving, and I realize after a while that the exit numbers are going down - 60, 59, 58, ... - I must be in another state. How did that happen? Okay, well, the numbers are going down, anyway, so we'll get to Exit 47 eventually, right?

So I keep driving. And driving. And driving. And it's past midnight and I'm tired. I see a sign for a motel that's only $30/night. I think about getting off the highway and seeing if they have any rooms. But didn't God say Exit 47? I'm not sure. And it's late. And I'm tired. But I really want to know for sure... I just feel this need to find out.

So I keep driving. And when we get to Exit 47 - there is pretty much nothing there.

Okay. So I heard wrong. This happens, especially when it involves numbers, lol. I'm okay with this, but it is now 2 am, and I am way past ready to sleep. So I start looking for signs. And at one of the next exits there is a sign that lists a couple of hotels and motels, and one of them is a name I know and trust, and I think - okay, I'll get off here. Go with what you know, right? So I did.

And found myself in the middle of nowhere.

Now one thing that is pretty great about driving through the middle of nowhere is you get a pretty good sense of the vastness of the universe and how very small you are. You also become pretty aware of how incredibly dark it is when there isn't any light. On a clear night, the stars are beautiful. But this is so not a clear night. It's raining. And I am in the middle of nowhere. And those hotels are nowhere to be found. Except the sign said to go this way....

So I keep driving, and praying, and wondering if I'm totally nuts, and I decide I will give this five more minutes. I am not sure that I've gotten this right, but I am sure that He has someplace for me to stay tonight. But how will I know?

"You'll know it when you see it."

And then, all of a sudden, I am in civilization. I am, in fact, in Geneva, New York.

I started to laugh. I couldn't help it.

"Geneva" is the name of a camp that I used to go to for 4-5 hour personal retreats every now and again. The first time I went, a friend of mine had booked me a day there because, he said, I needed to get away and do business with the Lord, and he was right - I did - and tho I didn't know it at the time, that day was the first step on a trajectory toward a deeper relationship with the Lord. My "Geneva days" (as I have continued to call them, in spite of the fact that I no longer go to that camp to take them) have become sacred, holy days of rest and communion with God. So of course I was in Geneva, New York for the first night of my trip. Of course.

It was so like Him.

a new hallelujah

i've watched this video 4 times today, and it's just too amazingly worshipful and hilarious (yes, both of those adjectives)! had to share. :)

these kids are incredibly talented. :)

....and funny!

open gates

i seriously considered not sharing this story, but since one of my goals for the year is greater transparency, here we are. happy-ness: in all of its silly, blonde-moment glory.

i will defend myself by saying that i did not know that the I-Pass and E-Z-Pass are the same thing. it seems to me that it all ought to have the same name if it's all the same thing. (and, by the way, the "fast lane" in Massachusetts is also the same thing, tho i learned that later.)

so i pull up to the first tollbooth in Ohio and i get in the "ticket" lane, and when i pull up to the toll booth, the gate goes up. but i do not have an "EZ-Pass" (or so i think) and so i assume that the gate has malfunctioned. (please keep in mind that it's been about 10 years since i took the toll roads to New England, and things have changed, as you laugh about this!)

the automated toll booth refuses to give me a ticket, and i don't know what to do, because i know (or think i know) that if i don't get a ticket now i will be in trouble on the far end of the tollway, and i am too honest to do this the wrong way. so i push the button for help, as the line of cars behind me lengthens and people start honking in irritation.

finally, a very nice woman comes across the highway and asks how she can help me. i explain that it won't give me a ticket, and she asks if i have a transponder. i'm sure the look of surprise on my face when i learned that I-Pass and EZ-Pass are pretty much the same thing convinced her that i honestly had no clue, and she was really nice about it, but she said, "it's fine. the gate goes up and you go thru." that's how it works, and i knew that, but i thought there was a mistake about the gate. talking to God about it later, i think honestly He was pleased that i was too honest to try to pull through without being sure it was okay - tho i did feel a little silly. but i learned something in that moment.

open gates are meant to be gone thru. the gates referred to in the Bible are often either city gates or the gates of the Lord's temple - and when they are open, people go thru, and when they are shut, they are meant to keep people out. In Isaiah 60:18, God says that we will call our walls salvation and our gates praise, and as I thought about that, driving thru Ohio, i realized that often i do not treat praise as the open gate that it is to God's presence. but it's true, isn't it? that when we praise Him for who He is and for what He's done in our lives, we stop thinking so much about ourselves and our vision is so much clearer for having looked on Him for awhile.

God also names his gates, and one of the gates in the temple in Jerusalem was called Beautiful. Beauty is an open gate to His temple - and there is so much beauty everywhere, if we will just slow down enough to notice it. Beauty ushers us into His presence, and whether it's the beauty of creation, or the beauty of watching two people in love look at each other, or the beauty of a tremendous musical composition - these too are gates into His presence. And when the gate is open, you're supposed to go through it.

And this is life. I need to be more on the lookout for open gates than I have been, and when I find them - I need to go through. Without hesitation.

and this is life

I would like to tell you that my road trip with Jesus was amazing. Peaceful, joy-filled, fun, adventurous, packed with intimate conversation with the Lord.

It was all of those things.

But it was also incredibly hard.

Spend 4 days alone in a car with Jesus, and it's pretty likely that eventually you'll run into yourself, in all of your miserable, sin-tainted fallenness. And I did. It was pretty hideous. But oh, the grace with which He met me there!

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I suppose I should start from the beginning and go from there...

I think I left with a bit of fear that this year's trip would not be as amazing as last year's trip. It wasn't. And it was. And it wasn't. There really isn't a comparison to be made, except that they were both road trips with Jesus. But if last year's trip was about rest and learning to abide in Him at all times, being at rest, no matter what the current pace of life, this one was about life being a journey, and taking it as it comes, good, bad, and in-between. It was also, I think, about finding peace. I'm not sure. I think, as with last year's trip, I will come to understand far more a few months out from here than I could possibly understand now.

But it was good. Amazing. Terrible. Great. Breathtaking. Heart-breaking. Perfect. Confusing. Wonderful. Beautiful. Long. And way too short.

It was what it was.

And this is life. It's a journey, long and far too short - full of heartbreak and trial and breathtaking moments of beauty.

Just before I left, my friend Amanda and I took a day trip up to Michigan to get coffee at J.P.'s and pick apples and buy donuts (yes, seriously, that's all we went for) - and we found this sign at a store that said "The journey is the destination."

"You should get that. It's so you," she said.

"I know. How much is it?"

"It's $42.00." (moment of thought.) "But you could totally make that."

I really might.

a fitting benediction

I'm off this week for what I hope is going to become my annual road trip with Jesus. :) This year I am headed towards Maine (as soon as I finish packing) and I had to laugh - when I asked my mechanic if my car could make the trip (she's getting a little old), he kind of looked at me funny, and then he said, "Well, as long as you don't hit no mooses or nothin', you should be okay."

And he didn't even know about the bison....

It seemed a fitting benediction.

So I'm off, to really only He-knows-where, to learn whatever it is that I will learn and to get quiet for awhile. I am really looking forward to it, and I can already feel myself slowly beginning to unwind. Yay. :) It is going to be a wonderful week. And I am sure I will have new stories to tell when I come home. (Hopefully relatively wildlife-free.) :)

adventures in set design

So part of my new job at Torch is designing the stage look for each new series. It's challenging - but it's also incredibly fun. The first set I did was for a 2-week evangelism series called Fierce Leap. In retrospect, I might not opt to spend 24 solid hours on a painting for a series that short - but it was fun, and it turned out really well.

The idea behind the set was simply that evangelism can be breathtakingly exhilarating (and a little bit scary) - kind of like taking a leap off a cliff into the ocean - but it can also as simple as inviting your neighbor over for coffee.

This is the full painting:

I am pretty sure it wouldn't have taken 24 hours if I'd taken the fabric off the back and painted it, and then glued it back on. But the effect of painting inside the squares actually came off pretty well from a distance, and made it look like the view through a window. I don't think I'll try it that way again, tho - I don't recover from all-niters as well as I once did!

icons, advent, chocolate, and rest

a fellow blogger posted a brief history of the "christian fish" earlier this week, and wondered how other people felt about Christian symbols in general, and i've been thinking about icons ever since.

i'll admit to being extremely influenced by Madeleine L'Engle's perspective on icons - her thoughts on the subject in A Circle of Quiet make much sense to me. it was Madeleine who helped me to understand the difference between icons and idols. an idol is something other than God that you worship, in and of itself. an icon points you to God. icons can become idols if we become too attached to them - if you were around for the battle of the shoes (about a year and a half ago), you know that i've wrestled with that. but the possibility that an icon can become an idol doesn't make an icon bad. in fact, i'd argue that we need them, whether or not we're aware that we need - or have - them, because without them, we are far too prone to get bogged down in the specific details of our lives and forget the bigger picture in which we live.

i love it when i see a fish on the back of someone's car. i love it more when i see a cross at the top of a church steeple, or on the back wall of an altar. or a Bible in the front seat of someone's car or in their briefcase. these symbols are icons - momentary and solid reminders that we are not alone - that there is a God who loves and saves us and is intimately involved in the details of our lives. reminders that we have an international family whose experiences, while different than ours in some ways, are nevertheless common to man - we are all, together, sinful, fallen, in need of grace. and we can all, together, find it.

there are words that are icons for me. hope. mercy. grace. peace. love. joy. freedom. there are paintings, poems, songs, books, people. doorways into God's presence.

liturgy is one of them. and i miss it.

i read Anne Lamott's Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith this week. there's a chapter where she talks about waiting and advent and the darkness that there is before Christ's coming, and it got me thinking about Christmas (which is what, like 12 weeks away now?!). and how Christmas itself is a doorway into something greater - Christ came, yes - and He is coming again. Christmas remembers, and reaches forward into future hope. and Advent is the path to Christmas.

traditionally, Advent is the four weeks prior to Christmas. realistically, Advent is a way of life. it's an active waiting, in expectation of what God will do, with peace, hope, love and joy - in the face of all that isn't any of those things. it is so much more than four weeks - tho we take four weeks to remember it.

i love that in some countries Advent calendars are made with chocolate behind all the little calendar doors. chocolate is an icon, too - a reminder that some things do always make you feel better. (Jesus and chocolate, right?)

so i am off to a day of actively waiting on the Lord: chocolate bar in hand; Bible, journal, pen; hope, peace, love, and joy seemingly elusive at times, but always there. there were too many details, too many distractions, too many things this week that cluttered the smaller picture and took my vision away from the bigger and better one. time to realign. to be in Sabbath rest.

and this very rest itself points me to Jesus. how good He was to tell us we would need this.

wonderfully...

I've been reading a lot lately, and one of the books I am still valiantly plowing through (not because it's boring, but because it is one of the longest books I have ever purchased) is John G. Lake: The Complete Collection of His Life's Teachings - compiled by Roberts Liardon.

John's journal entries are very interesting, and one of the things I noticed as I was reading yesterday was how often he would comment that "so-and-so was wonderfully saved."

It is wonderful, isn't it? I forget that sometimes, in the midst of all the stuff that I do as a Christian and as a pseudo-staffer at my church, that this is all actually incredibly wonderful and amazing. Why is that? I mean, it's ridiculous of me to not remember that grace is a gift, and an undeserved one at that, and to therefore rejoice in my salvation! But I forget, all the same, and get bogged down in the worries of this life, and the task lists, and the lists of things that didn't get done on last week's task lists, and suddenly life is routine and boring and wonder lies fallow under agenda.

I want wonder to wake up. I want to be so captured by the night sky that I simply sit smack down in the middle of the driveway and look up for half an hour. I want to be so taken with the colors in the sunrise that I actually get up to see what beauty He will paint tomorrow. I want to simply stop in the middle of all of these task lists and be completely okay with a not-quite-spotless floor in favor of quality-time-spent with someone I love. And I want to remember all the things that Jesus saved me from, and rejoice with the deepest possible gratitude and wonder that I am indeed saved, forgiven, accepted, and wanted by God.

I am wonderfully saved. How do I even begin to understand the magnitude of that? But it is true. And it is wonder full.

random ramblings, vol. 4

Seven random glimpses into Happyland, as I try to wind down from a late evening and very obviously not decaffeinated soy chai latte:

1. It is Maple Scone season. Yay. And that's all I have to say about that. :)

2. I pulled my first all-nighter in I-don't-know-how-long this weekend, in a successful effort to finish the painting that needed to get done for our new stage look. It turned out even better than I'd hoped. Still, I am looking forward to not pulling an all-nighter again for quite some time. If ever. :)

3. I made applesauce today. I forgot how much I enjoy doing that.

4. If you haven't seen it yet, and you're a woman blogger, please go see Julie and Julia. It was a great movie. Cooking and blogging. How much better does it get? :) It was also incredibly refreshing to watch a movie that involved two healthy marriages. And I thought it had a pretty accurate take on the delicate balance of blogging and real life. That's all I'm going to say about it right now, but feel free to discuss in the comments. :)

5. Today was an incredibly restful day. A little bit of productivity complemented by a walk and talk with a good friend and an unexpected hang-out time with two other good friends who just happened to be sitting outside at the local coffee shop as I pulled thru the drive-thru (on an unsuccessful hunt for a Maple Scone. they are so good you have to get them in the morning, or they're gone.).

6. I found a copy of I.Q. tonight for $5.00. And yes, it is a $5 sort of movie, but it is still one of my favorites. :)

7. I'm re-reading Madeleine L'Engle's A Circle of Quiet. If you are looking for deep, thought-provoking reading material that leaves you feeling more like yourself than you were when you started.... well, when you put it that way, the Bible is really better for that than anything, but A Circle of Quiet is an excellent complement. :)