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.