Monday night was, as Madison said, strange. Daddy was playing piano for a long time, Mommy was crying and we allowed Abigail to rummage through the contents of Mommy’s wallet, putting everything in the wrong place.
And it was a strange night. It was the summation of a long and challenging day. It was a day that seemed to be orchestrated from the beginning by an unseen nemesis, and I could just hear him laughing maniacally as I fumbled through it. It was the kind of day that gets you down, that beats on you, wears on you, and though you try to brush it off and stand up straight again, you just keep stumbling. By the end of the day I was weary, my patience was pretty thin and I was afraid to open my mouth because I felt certain of the possibility that I might breathe fire.
And then Thane began playing the piano, and I began to cry. Before that I was sitting by myself on our bed, staring out the window at the red tree in our neighbor’s front yard. Every year I look forward to autumn and the progression of the changing colors of that tree’s leaves. The leaves turn yellow early and slowly ripen to flaming red. Red is their color now, and as I looked at them against the grey sky I felt both peace and chaos churning inside of me. With the first note Thane struck on the piano, the chaos within me broke through the surface erupting in tears. This is how it happens for me; my tears always surprise me.
Thane’s music was his own, his creation, and it flowed from his heart. And with the first note I knew he was suffering, as I was. He chose to express his emotion in music. It was beautiful, and it was a bridge for me because without it I could not have reached the tears. And it was a bridge between us, because although we were choosing to walk through our pain on our own there was something within us that was reaching out for someone to walk through it with us. His music reached to me across the gap and melted my defenses, and I knew I was not alone.
Psalm 45:1-2
1 My heart is stirred by a noble theme
as I recite my verses for the king;
my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer.
2 You are the most excellent of men
and your lips have been anointed with grace,
since God has blessed you forever.
Eph. 5:19
Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
rain
Once again the rain comes down
To heal the parched soil of the earth
And the ground drinks it up
And the roots of the plants drink it in
Last night
Healing waters flowed through us
Words on a page spring to life
Uttered through the voice of a woman in shame
Words that once penetrated
Like a sword to my heart
Slicing it open
Laying my wounds bare
But now the words don’t ring with the truth they once did
Forgiveness
Grace
Is attainable to me too
And I know it now
And I thank God for showing me
Because sometimes it seems like I’m clawing my way up
Through a pit of dirt
The earthen ground tumbles down on me
My fingers find no solid place
To pull my body up
To see the light of day
And then I see
The pit is getting smaller
It’s not so deep anymore and
The light is spilling in
All around me
And soon I won’t be clawing dirt
But standing above
Soaking in the rain
Like healing water to a thirsty soul
So I listen to it now
The sound of the water
As it lulls me into the peace of God
And I thank Him
For all that he has brought me through
this was a poem I wrote after the first, first Wednesday
it's still true
To heal the parched soil of the earth
And the ground drinks it up
And the roots of the plants drink it in
Last night
Healing waters flowed through us
Words on a page spring to life
Uttered through the voice of a woman in shame
Words that once penetrated
Like a sword to my heart
Slicing it open
Laying my wounds bare
But now the words don’t ring with the truth they once did
Forgiveness
Grace
Is attainable to me too
And I know it now
And I thank God for showing me
Because sometimes it seems like I’m clawing my way up
Through a pit of dirt
The earthen ground tumbles down on me
My fingers find no solid place
To pull my body up
To see the light of day
And then I see
The pit is getting smaller
It’s not so deep anymore and
The light is spilling in
All around me
And soon I won’t be clawing dirt
But standing above
Soaking in the rain
Like healing water to a thirsty soul
So I listen to it now
The sound of the water
As it lulls me into the peace of God
And I thank Him
For all that he has brought me through
this was a poem I wrote after the first, first Wednesday
it's still true
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
jigsaw pieces
I’ve been told and I believe that God is everywhere, in everything, waiting to be discovered. So when I fail to see him I attribute the problem to my eyesight. So I look for him, or at least I try.
But lately I feel like I’ve been looking for him for so long. I’m piecing together the puzzle of him, but so many parts are missing that the picture is incomprehensible. So I just stare at it, and wait. I wait because I can’t do anything else. I wait because I can’t even find the pieces right now. It’s like someone came along and dumped out two hundred other puzzles and all the pieces are mixed together. I find it impossible for me to sort them out by myself. But I can’t seem to find anyone else who knows all the pieces either. Sometimes I find someone who recognizes a piece or two, and we place them into the picture of my puzzle God. But after a while we’re both stumped again, staring at the picture together in confusion. And now my eyes are straining to see the pieces, but my lids are growing heavy and I’m so tired of searching.
There seems to be One who knows where all the jigsaw pieces go. He knows the puzzle because he is in the puzzle, the puzzle is him. And I think he wants to help me. But the trouble is that someone keeps coming and dumping more pieces all over my God puzzle, and it’s getting harder and harder to see beneath the mess. And the One who can help me keeps getting pushed out of the way because all of these puzzle pieces are taking up so much space…
So I’m just waiting beneath a mess of jigsaw pieces, and hoping that God will lead me out of it and give me just one more piece. And I keep thinking that if he gives me just one more piece I’ll be able to do the puzzle, except I’m realizing that it’s going to take a lot more than just me to put this puzzle together. So I’m going to have to wait, and listen and ask for help. But even though the puzzle looks like a jumbled mess right now, I am choosing to believe that I’ll be able to see it one day. Just maybe not yet.
But lately I feel like I’ve been looking for him for so long. I’m piecing together the puzzle of him, but so many parts are missing that the picture is incomprehensible. So I just stare at it, and wait. I wait because I can’t do anything else. I wait because I can’t even find the pieces right now. It’s like someone came along and dumped out two hundred other puzzles and all the pieces are mixed together. I find it impossible for me to sort them out by myself. But I can’t seem to find anyone else who knows all the pieces either. Sometimes I find someone who recognizes a piece or two, and we place them into the picture of my puzzle God. But after a while we’re both stumped again, staring at the picture together in confusion. And now my eyes are straining to see the pieces, but my lids are growing heavy and I’m so tired of searching.
There seems to be One who knows where all the jigsaw pieces go. He knows the puzzle because he is in the puzzle, the puzzle is him. And I think he wants to help me. But the trouble is that someone keeps coming and dumping more pieces all over my God puzzle, and it’s getting harder and harder to see beneath the mess. And the One who can help me keeps getting pushed out of the way because all of these puzzle pieces are taking up so much space…
So I’m just waiting beneath a mess of jigsaw pieces, and hoping that God will lead me out of it and give me just one more piece. And I keep thinking that if he gives me just one more piece I’ll be able to do the puzzle, except I’m realizing that it’s going to take a lot more than just me to put this puzzle together. So I’m going to have to wait, and listen and ask for help. But even though the puzzle looks like a jumbled mess right now, I am choosing to believe that I’ll be able to see it one day. Just maybe not yet.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
the fascination of 'ordinary' things
When I prepare to write, I sit at my dining room table beside a wall of three windows. Sometimes when I am thinking I look outside and let my eyes wander until they land on something of interest. There is a large tree in my neighbor’s back yard, I can see it through my windows. It is an old tree with lush leaves and beautiful form. Its trunk splits on the ascension upward, one massive trunk diverging into two of less girth. The leaves of the tree stretch forth from the diverse branches, shimmering in the sun and swaying with the wind. It seems alive, and it is, though not in the same way that I am alive, or you are.
But I don’t really gaze much on that tree as I sit here. Instead I trace the lines and slopes of the deck outside my window. This deck isn’t special, it’s really pretty ordinary. It was just power washed I notice, so the color is truer to the natural wood grain, but this makes little difference. Once again, my eyes follow the crisscross pattern of the lattice beneath the deck and the vertical lines of the railings and the parallel horizontal beams that make up the steps.
Of all the things to look at outside my window, I’m not sure why I choose the deck and not the tree. The tree is obviously more beautiful to look at, but the deck holds my attention.
My first thought, as I ponder this question, is of God and me. Of all the things God can choose to look at, why does he choose to look at me? There are so many things in this world he created which I consider to be quite stunning, and then there is me, and honestly I’m fairly ordinary… like the deck outside my window.
But what if that deck outside my window is more than ordinary? What if, without knowing it, when I look at the deck the beams are crying out to me? What if the wood from a tree once standing tall is telling me something? What if that tree saw a number of things you and I have never seen? What if the tree remembers when birds of the air nested in its arms, when tiny eggs became little creatures full of breath and life? What if the tree wants to tell me that it remembers when its fingers brushed the wind, when the lightning struck so close, when the rain pelted down and thunder rumbled through the sky? Or what if those chiseled pieces of wood remember when a family came together to build it? What if this deck was forged in love and laughter and good conversation? Maybe it remembers how it was born and wants to tell me. Maybe it still listens to the parties and arguments and tender moments, and a part of it wants me to share in these moments too.
So what appears to be a simple deck holds a lot more meaning when you look closely, because it is made up of more than wood and nails.
Perhaps the same is true of me, and of you.
Mark 6:2-3 And when the Sabbath had come, He began to teach in the synagogue. And many hearing Him were astonished, saying, “Where did this Man get these things? And what wisdom is this which is given to Him, that such mighty works are performed by His hands! Is this not the carpenter, the Son of Mary, and brother of James, Joses, Judas, and Simon? And are not His sisters here with us?” So they were offended at Him.
But I don’t really gaze much on that tree as I sit here. Instead I trace the lines and slopes of the deck outside my window. This deck isn’t special, it’s really pretty ordinary. It was just power washed I notice, so the color is truer to the natural wood grain, but this makes little difference. Once again, my eyes follow the crisscross pattern of the lattice beneath the deck and the vertical lines of the railings and the parallel horizontal beams that make up the steps.
Of all the things to look at outside my window, I’m not sure why I choose the deck and not the tree. The tree is obviously more beautiful to look at, but the deck holds my attention.
My first thought, as I ponder this question, is of God and me. Of all the things God can choose to look at, why does he choose to look at me? There are so many things in this world he created which I consider to be quite stunning, and then there is me, and honestly I’m fairly ordinary… like the deck outside my window.
But what if that deck outside my window is more than ordinary? What if, without knowing it, when I look at the deck the beams are crying out to me? What if the wood from a tree once standing tall is telling me something? What if that tree saw a number of things you and I have never seen? What if the tree remembers when birds of the air nested in its arms, when tiny eggs became little creatures full of breath and life? What if the tree wants to tell me that it remembers when its fingers brushed the wind, when the lightning struck so close, when the rain pelted down and thunder rumbled through the sky? Or what if those chiseled pieces of wood remember when a family came together to build it? What if this deck was forged in love and laughter and good conversation? Maybe it remembers how it was born and wants to tell me. Maybe it still listens to the parties and arguments and tender moments, and a part of it wants me to share in these moments too.
So what appears to be a simple deck holds a lot more meaning when you look closely, because it is made up of more than wood and nails.
Perhaps the same is true of me, and of you.
Mark 6:2-3 And when the Sabbath had come, He began to teach in the synagogue. And many hearing Him were astonished, saying, “Where did this Man get these things? And what wisdom is this which is given to Him, that such mighty works are performed by His hands! Is this not the carpenter, the Son of Mary, and brother of James, Joses, Judas, and Simon? And are not His sisters here with us?” So they were offended at Him.
Friday, July 18, 2008
slavery
Last week I was talking with God about my hopes, my dreams. I was energized throughout our conversation, finally starting to believe that maybe wispy dreams could be transformed into concrete reality. And as I was dreaming with him I was also asking him to keep me humble, to keep me real. I very much want to change things, but not for the wrong reasons. I would love to say that my desire to make the world a better place comes only from a pure need to help people. That’s not entirely true though. There is a part of me that desires recognition. That desire for success, that mental plaque that proclaims that I am worthwhile and touts my success as proof of my worth, is a dangerous trap. And it could corrupt everything.
When Dr. Bob spoke at New Community last week, I got that eerie sense that God was saying something to me, personally, through his message. DB reminded us that the greatest among us must be least. He asked us to read John 13, proclaiming that God is raising an army of foot washers. He said we need to be clamoring to stand under one another, not over one another. He regarded the most liberating thing in the world as nothing more than enlisting as a slave in the kingdom of Christ.
God was speaking to me about that desire I have to be great. He was saying that if I truly want to accomplish his vision, if I want to be part of his revolution to transform lives, I’m going to have to enlist as a slave. The role of slave isn’t exactly a role I covet.
Why is it difficult to accept the position of a slave?
I imagine the way slaves are treated. They aren’t regarded highly. Their opinions are not valued. They are given the last share of everything. Slaves are regarded as property, free to be beaten if their master desires or traded in for a newer version. People hold conversations while a slave is in the room and that slave, that person, isn’t even acknowledged. It’s like they aren’t even there. They are invisible.
Life as a slave seems like the worst existence imaginable.
But Paul says, Do you not know that when you present yourselves to someone as slaves for obedience, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin resulting in death, or of obedience resulting in righteousness? Rom 6:16
Dr. Bob says that we will never be more than slaves, we will either be slaves to self or slaves to Christ.
And Jesus says, Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. John 13:14
Then, this morning God asked me a question: “What do you think it looks like to be a slave in my kingdom?”
So, I don’t know? Maybe…
To be a slave is to be free.
To be under is to be exalted.
To be last is to be chosen.
To be invisible is to be loved.
When Dr. Bob spoke at New Community last week, I got that eerie sense that God was saying something to me, personally, through his message. DB reminded us that the greatest among us must be least. He asked us to read John 13, proclaiming that God is raising an army of foot washers. He said we need to be clamoring to stand under one another, not over one another. He regarded the most liberating thing in the world as nothing more than enlisting as a slave in the kingdom of Christ.
God was speaking to me about that desire I have to be great. He was saying that if I truly want to accomplish his vision, if I want to be part of his revolution to transform lives, I’m going to have to enlist as a slave. The role of slave isn’t exactly a role I covet.
Why is it difficult to accept the position of a slave?
I imagine the way slaves are treated. They aren’t regarded highly. Their opinions are not valued. They are given the last share of everything. Slaves are regarded as property, free to be beaten if their master desires or traded in for a newer version. People hold conversations while a slave is in the room and that slave, that person, isn’t even acknowledged. It’s like they aren’t even there. They are invisible.
Life as a slave seems like the worst existence imaginable.
But Paul says, Do you not know that when you present yourselves to someone as slaves for obedience, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin resulting in death, or of obedience resulting in righteousness? Rom 6:16
Dr. Bob says that we will never be more than slaves, we will either be slaves to self or slaves to Christ.
And Jesus says, Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet. John 13:14
Then, this morning God asked me a question: “What do you think it looks like to be a slave in my kingdom?”
So, I don’t know? Maybe…
To be a slave is to be free.
To be under is to be exalted.
To be last is to be chosen.
To be invisible is to be loved.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
here
“…what is sought is, and has always been, right here all along. ‘It,’ in other words, is never somewhere else.” Lawrence Kushner, God was in this Place & I, I did not know
Have you ever thought you couldn’t find something, only to discover that it was always within your grasp, you just weren’t aware of it? Kind of like thinking you misplaced your car keys. You’re searching frantically all over the living room, overturning seat cushions and scanning the carpeted floor for evidence of metallic objects when you decide you better double check your purse, where you usually keep your keys. You looked there once, but you’re in a hurry and it is possible that you just didn’t see them…
Have you ever sat with a child looking for hidden objects within a picture? Your eyes search and scan every inch of the page, and when you finally come across that coveted hidden treasure, it becomes the only thing your eyes can see among numbers of other insignificant objects on the page.
Or when you’re presented with a riddle and you just can’t seem to crack it. You look at the words, the wheels of your mind cranking, trying to look at it from every angle and then the answer comes to you… and it seems so obvious that you wonder how you could have missed it at all.
This is how I feel now. It seems in answer to years of searching for the presence of God, my answer is simply that his presence was here all along. It seems I do not need to go anywhere to find it. Apparently, there is no need to conjure up any type of mystical experience, holy feeling or moment of epiphany. It seems that God is present and available in every moment and in every place. There are a number of Scriptures verifying this truth, and I regularly encounter beautiful people who reinforce this reality.
I simply refused to acknowledge this reality as true.
I am choosing to shift my concept of reality. I am choosing to acknowledge that God is here, whether I can tell that he is here or not. I am trying to become aware of his presence. In essence, I am practicing the presence of God.
“When you look closely and for a long time, you discover things that are invisible to others. Most people make the mistake of trying to ‘look deeper’ when all they need is to pay attention to the obvious.” Lawrence Kushner, God was in this Place & I, I did not know
“The trick is to pay attention to what is going on around you long enough to behold the miracle without falling asleep. There is another world, right here within this one, whenever we pay attention.” Lawrence Kushner, God was in this Place & I, I did not know
Have you ever thought you couldn’t find something, only to discover that it was always within your grasp, you just weren’t aware of it? Kind of like thinking you misplaced your car keys. You’re searching frantically all over the living room, overturning seat cushions and scanning the carpeted floor for evidence of metallic objects when you decide you better double check your purse, where you usually keep your keys. You looked there once, but you’re in a hurry and it is possible that you just didn’t see them…
Have you ever sat with a child looking for hidden objects within a picture? Your eyes search and scan every inch of the page, and when you finally come across that coveted hidden treasure, it becomes the only thing your eyes can see among numbers of other insignificant objects on the page.
Or when you’re presented with a riddle and you just can’t seem to crack it. You look at the words, the wheels of your mind cranking, trying to look at it from every angle and then the answer comes to you… and it seems so obvious that you wonder how you could have missed it at all.
This is how I feel now. It seems in answer to years of searching for the presence of God, my answer is simply that his presence was here all along. It seems I do not need to go anywhere to find it. Apparently, there is no need to conjure up any type of mystical experience, holy feeling or moment of epiphany. It seems that God is present and available in every moment and in every place. There are a number of Scriptures verifying this truth, and I regularly encounter beautiful people who reinforce this reality.
I simply refused to acknowledge this reality as true.
I am choosing to shift my concept of reality. I am choosing to acknowledge that God is here, whether I can tell that he is here or not. I am trying to become aware of his presence. In essence, I am practicing the presence of God.
“When you look closely and for a long time, you discover things that are invisible to others. Most people make the mistake of trying to ‘look deeper’ when all they need is to pay attention to the obvious.” Lawrence Kushner, God was in this Place & I, I did not know
“The trick is to pay attention to what is going on around you long enough to behold the miracle without falling asleep. There is another world, right here within this one, whenever we pay attention.” Lawrence Kushner, God was in this Place & I, I did not know
Thursday, July 10, 2008
God was in this place
Mary Magdalene is crying her eyes out and Jesus asks her who she is seeking… she doesn’t even realize it’s him…..and then he speaks to her, but she thinks he is the gardener…
John 20:15 Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?” She, supposing Him to be the gardener, said to Him, “Sir, if You have carried Him away, tell me where You have laid Him, and I will take Him away.”
Two men are traveling together toward a village… they are talking, trying to figure out what is happening… the body of Jesus is no longer in the tomb and the women are saying they have seen angels… and these men mourn because they thought Jesus would redeem Israel… and they are telling all of this to a stranger who met them on the road, only that stranger is really Jesus and they don’t even realize it…
Luke 24:15-16 So it was, while they conversed and reasoned, that Jesus Himself drew near and went with them. But their eyes were restrained, so that they did not know Him.
God is all around us and sometimes we think he’s just a gardener, tending the earth.
But sometimes in hindsight we recognize that he was here…
Luke 24:30-32 Now it came to pass, as He sat at the table with them, that He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they knew Him; and He vanished from their sight. And they said to one another, “Did not our heart burn within us while He talked with us on the road, and while He opened the Scriptures to us?”
But what if God is always here? What if his presence continually lingers with us, manifested even in the breath of created beings? Is some part of God in every inhale, every exhale?
“The holy of holies was so sacred that, according to Rabbinic tradition, only the High Priest could enter, and even he could only do so on Yom Kippur… Once inside the holy of holies, he had to do only one thing. And he had prepared to do this for months. He would utter the Shaym HaMeforash, the ineffable four-letter Name of God. Yod, Hey, Vav, Hey. It is a name made from the three letters of the Hebrew alphabet that function primarily as vowels. How do you pronounce all the vowel sounds at once? The reason that God’s name is unpronounceable is because the Name of Being is the sound of breathing. The High Priest went into the innermost sanctuary and simply breathed.” Lawrence Kushner, God was in this Place & I, i did not know
What if you and me and every single person in the world are uttering the name of God simply by breathing?
If so, then truly…
God was in this place and I, i did not know. ~Gen. 28:16
John 20:15 Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?” She, supposing Him to be the gardener, said to Him, “Sir, if You have carried Him away, tell me where You have laid Him, and I will take Him away.”
Two men are traveling together toward a village… they are talking, trying to figure out what is happening… the body of Jesus is no longer in the tomb and the women are saying they have seen angels… and these men mourn because they thought Jesus would redeem Israel… and they are telling all of this to a stranger who met them on the road, only that stranger is really Jesus and they don’t even realize it…
Luke 24:15-16 So it was, while they conversed and reasoned, that Jesus Himself drew near and went with them. But their eyes were restrained, so that they did not know Him.
God is all around us and sometimes we think he’s just a gardener, tending the earth.
But sometimes in hindsight we recognize that he was here…
Luke 24:30-32 Now it came to pass, as He sat at the table with them, that He took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they knew Him; and He vanished from their sight. And they said to one another, “Did not our heart burn within us while He talked with us on the road, and while He opened the Scriptures to us?”
But what if God is always here? What if his presence continually lingers with us, manifested even in the breath of created beings? Is some part of God in every inhale, every exhale?
“The holy of holies was so sacred that, according to Rabbinic tradition, only the High Priest could enter, and even he could only do so on Yom Kippur… Once inside the holy of holies, he had to do only one thing. And he had prepared to do this for months. He would utter the Shaym HaMeforash, the ineffable four-letter Name of God. Yod, Hey, Vav, Hey. It is a name made from the three letters of the Hebrew alphabet that function primarily as vowels. How do you pronounce all the vowel sounds at once? The reason that God’s name is unpronounceable is because the Name of Being is the sound of breathing. The High Priest went into the innermost sanctuary and simply breathed.” Lawrence Kushner, God was in this Place & I, i did not know
What if you and me and every single person in the world are uttering the name of God simply by breathing?
If so, then truly…
God was in this place and I, i did not know. ~Gen. 28:16
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