Enough is hard (part 1)

We all have to make decisions about how we handle things, how we are going to think about them, and what we are going to do about them. It might be our bank account, or our lawn, or a hobby. I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit lately and have concluded that there really are three ways we can move forward, two of them easier than the other one.

One way is to say, “This thing will get none of my time, attention, or resources.”  We make this decision all the time about things we are not natively interested in or gifted to do.  It doesn’t cost us anything to make this choice. Often it is a one-and-done deal. I’m having a hard time coming up with an example of something because it’s just not even on my radar! Maybe volleyball. Or model airplanes.

Another way is to say, “This thing will get lots of my time, attention, and resources.” These are things we are passionate about and/or are natively interested in and gifted to do. This choice doesn’t generally cost us much either. We gladly give of ourselves to this and find joy in doing it/thinking about it. This is music for me. Or reading. Or crossword puzzles. And the church. And my family.

The third way, I’m finding, is the most difficult way. This is when we say, “This thing is necessary for me to think about/do/participate in. I’m not naturally passionate about it but I can’t ignore it. However, I don’t want it to take over my time, attention, and resources so I have to come up with a middle ground that will just be enough.” This isn’t a resigned Enough, necessarily; it can be a very active Enough. For me this is my home, or my bank account, or my lawn.

But Enough is slippery, potentially illusive, hard to pin down. For starters it’s different for everyone. Not only will one person’s easy Yes/No be someone else’s Enough, but one person’s Enough might be calibrated differently than someone else’s.

It’s also tricky because the allure of an easy No or Yes is strong, even restful. Those decisions get made and you move on. My conclusions about Enough must be fought for and established in my own head. But then I encounter other people’s lives and my Enough gets pummeled, misshapen, challenged. So then I have to go back and remind myself of how I got to Enough in the first place.  And that seemingly constant regrouping necessary to maintain Enough almost makes it appear not worth it. But I think it is.

More on this to come…

song (that was) of my heart #3

I actually listened to the words of this song for the first time today. This is exactly how I was feeling up until about a week ago.

Been fighting things that I can't see
Like voices coming from the inside of me and
Like doing things I find hard to believe in
Am I myself or am I dreaming?

I've been awake for an hour or so
Checking for a pulse but I just don't know
Am I a man when I feel like a ghost?
The stranger in the mirror is wearing my clothes

No, I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
A steering wheel don't mean you can drive
A warm body don't mean I'm alive

No, I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
Feel like I travel but I never arrive
I wanna thrive not just survive

I come alive when I hear you singing
But lately I haven't been hearing a thing and
I get the feeling that I'm in between
A machine and a man who only looks like me

I try and hide it and not let it show
But deep down inside me I just don't know
Am I a man when I feel like a hoax?
The stranger in the mirror is wearing my clothes

No, I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
A steering wheel don't mean you can drive
A warm body don't mean I'm alive

No, I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
Feel like I travel but I never arrive
I wanna thrive not just survive

I'm always close, but I'm never enough
I'm always alive, but I'm never in love
I get so down, but I won't give up
I get so down, but I won't give up
I get so down, but I won; t give up

Been fighting things that I can't see
Like voices coming from the inside of me and
Like doing things I find hard to believe in
Am I myself or am I dreaming?

Am I myself or am I dreaming?
Am I myself or am I dreaming?

Thrive, thrive, thrive, yeah, thrive

No, I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
A steering wheel don't mean you can drive
A warm body don't mean I'm alive

No, I'm not alright
I know that I'm not right
Feel like I travel but I never arrive
I wanna thrive not just survive
I wanna thrive not just survive

Yeah yeah
Feel like I travel but I never arrive
I wanna thrive not just survive
I wanna thrive not just survive
I wanna thrive not just survive

Feels like I travel but I never arrive
I wanna thrive not just survive

~Switchfoot, Vice Verses

peace is weird

I made a decision recently to step away from something that has been a big part of my life for the last few years. I had defended keeping it in my schedule for quite a while as I got busier, but all it took was an instant to know that I would be able to let it go. I didn't waffle over it like I sometimes do, I didn't consult with multiple people and engage in lots of verbal processing like I always do. I just knew.

And so it wasn't with a conflicted or torn up heart that I went to communicate my decision to the person who most needed to know. I was very peaceful, very convinced. Sad? Yes. But not distraught. This way forward was so evident to me that the calmness I was feeling didn't surprise me. I expected her to be the one to be shocked, dismayed, teary, etc. But she wasn't. God had already prepared her heart and spirit to hear what I was going to say. And so we stood there, two completely calm and accepting people. No rivers of tears, no frustration, no feelings of disappointment (well maybe a little), no confusion. It was weird. But weird in a good way, I guess.

I had prayed for this kind of peace and understanding on both of our parts. And God answered with exactly that. But I have to admit it felt a little anticlimactic. Like there was supposed to be hurt and distress and tears and pain. Instead it just was. What a gift.

virtue

All our life is sown with tiny thorns that produce in our hearts a thousand
involuntary moments of hatred, envy, fear, impatience, a thousand little
fleeting disappointments, a thousand slight worries, a thousand disturbances
that momentarily alter our peace of soul. For example, a word escapes that
should not have been spoken. Or someone says something that offends us. A child
inconveniences you. A bore stops you. You don't like the weather. Your work is
not going according to plan. A piece of furniture is broken. A dress is
torn.

I know that these are not occasions for practicing very heroic virtue. But
they would definitely be enough to acquire it if we really wished to.

~ St. Claude la Columbiere (1641-82), a Jesuit preacher

song of my heart #2

Tell me I'm forgiven and loved
'Cause I hear it from the street corner priests
On how God is love and we can be clean
But my joy has been on holiday
And my peace has almost passed away
Tell me I'm forgiven and free

O I tried and tried to rectify my hopeless situation
But I bought the lie I still have work to do
Now I'm working nine to five like I can earn my own salvation
But there is no condemnation in you

O whisper to me now that it's for real
'Cause in the silence of these walls righteousness lost its appeal
Dirty deeds have done me in
O but that can't stop the faithful friend
Giving mercy once again as you heal
Here it is I'm feeling it

O he died, he died to rectify my hopeless situation
And his blood commands my guilt to leave
Now on Calvary I stand
Empty pockets, open hands
O there is no condemnation for me

Child, you're forgiven and loved
Child, you're forgiven and loved
Child, you're forgiven
And child, you are loved
Child, you're forgiven and loved

~Jimmy Needham, Not Without Love

song of my heart #1

Savior, please take my hand
I work so hard, I live so fast
This life begins, and then it ends
And I do the best that I can,
but I don't know how long I'll last

I try to be so tough
But I'm just not strong enough
I can't do this alone,
God I need you to hold on to me
I try to be good enough
But I'm nothing without your love
Savior, please keep saving me

Savior, please help me stand
I fall so hard, I fade so fast
Will you begin right where I end
And be the God of all I am
because you're all I have

Hallelujah
Everything you are to me
Is everything I'll ever need
And I am learning to believe
That I don't have to prove a thing
'Cause you're the one who's saving me

~Josh Wilson, Trying to Fit the Ocean in a Cup

guardian

I have a very distinct memory of my family sitting in our tiny kitchen in Sheboygan, WI (circa 1989) memorizing Philippians 4:4-9. We (my parents, me-age 8, my brother-age 6, my sister-age 4) regularly chanted, traipsing cheerfully over the meter and rhythm of the words rather than contemplating their meaning (at least, that's what I was doing):

"Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!
Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything,
by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding,
will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble,
whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—
if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.
Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—
put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you."

Fast-forward to high school, standing on my porch with my then-boyfriend, pondering together the slightly mindblowing concept that something like God's peace might actually be able to "transcend all [read: our know-it-all] understanding." Whoa. (And, yes, all we were doing was pondering...)

Then in the last year or so, those words memorized 10 years ago came back as I regularly prayed for people that they might experience that peace of God "that doesn't make any sense" in the midst of death, cancer, shame, confusion, etc. A very powerful prayer, indeed. Because such unexplainable peace might actually cause more confusion when it shows up. But in the end it's peace. Something that does, indeed, transcend understanding.

Most recently, however, my mind has wandered to the rest of the sentence and a new prayer has formed in my mind and heart. As if transcending all understanding isn't amazing enough, it's this peace that is the guardian of my heart. It's the filter through which all emotion must travel, the keeper of my response to future possibilities. Peace, in the form of a dove hanging over my table. Peace, in the form of cranes that I will make for every day my brother is in Afghanistan. Protection, recognized with amazement when pondering something that didn't go the way I thought it would. Security in the midst of worry, solace in the midst of economic chaos. Peace. A deep breath. Guardian.

strange

Totally out of the blue I have been invited to consider making a major change. What's weird is that I'm not currently discontent. This causes me to find myself without some of the usual mechanisms for making a big decision: does this new thing fill a gap or meet a need? (well, not if there are not gaps or needs) does it inject excitement into my life? (well, not if I'm not bored)

Is it possible that this should therefore be a less stressful decision? Would it simply be a lateral move from good to good? Strange...

abundance

By entering through faith into what God has always wanted to do for us—set us right with him, make us fit for him—we have it all together with God because of our Master Jesus. And that's not all: We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand—out in the wide open spaces of God's grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise.

There's more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we're hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we're never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can't round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!

~Romans 5:1-5 (The Message)

returning soon...

a little backwards

Apparently it takes something a little strange on a morning radio show to get me back to blogging...

I was listening to a radio station this morning on my way to work that was promoting the work of an organization that produces Bibles for the world. I know and admire this organization, but the personal story that was shared over the air as a way of encouraging people to give money towards purchasing Bibles made my eyebrows raise (yeah, can't to the cool one-eyebrow thing) and wonder if they didn't have it a little backwards.

The woman who called in had spent time in a country in Eastern Europe on a short-term mission trip. She found herself in the home of a woman who wanted to share her most valuable possession with her new friends. It was a Bible, but no ordinary Bible. It had been her only Bible for over 50 years, during which all of the Russian occupation and whatnot had clouded the Christian scene in Eastern Europe. But it wasn't just that it was her only, and old, Bible. It had been pieced together word-by-word with words that were originally published/printed in a newspaper. She, and many other faithful believers, had called to mind countless Bible verses that they held in their memory and "put the Bible back together." I was awed and inspired, and put in my place, because I certainly could not even begin to embark on such a journey (though, perhaps, there is beauty in such a project coming out of a community rather than from one individual).

Anyway, what bothered me so much was that when the story was finished, the woman telling it, as well as the two people on the radio show, could only talk about "those poor people in the world who don't have Bibles when we in America have so many." I wanted to say, "shame on me for not knowing Scripture in my heart so that no matter what the circumstances I will have God's Word in my heart!" I wished that they had even given a nod to this. They were so intent on raising money to send Bibles to the world (which is not a bad endeavor in itself) that they neglected to point out how "poor" the memories and spirits of we Americans are, those of us who take for granted the Bibles in our bedrooms (and every other room in the house), but don't bother to carry the Word around in our hearts and minds.

A missed opportunity, in my humble opinion.

strange

It's strange that now that things are moving forward in my life (an apartment, almost a 'real' job), I'm feeling less inclined to blog. I acutally think this is a problem, considering that I began this to chronicle ways in which I've been humbled by God's Word, other people and my own experiences. So, now I've warned myself publically that it is more important now than ever to continue to ask for God's eyes with which to see the world, so that even as I'm emerging from some hibernation of the soul, I'm attentive to those things which keep me grounded and humble. Amen.

simple, yet

I've seen this a few times now and it's intrigued me each time, so here goes:

What Privileges Do You Have?
Based on an exercise about class and privilege developed by Will Barratt, Meagan Cahill, Angie Carlen, Minnette Huck, Drew Lurker, Stacy Ploskonka at Illinois State University.(If you participate in this blog game, they ask that you PLEASE acknowledge their copyright.)

Directions: Bold the statements that apply to you.
1. Father went to college.
2. Father finished college.
3. Mother went to college.
4. Mother finished college.
5. Have any relative who is an attorney, physician, or professor.
6. Were the same or higher social class than your high school teachers.
7. Had more than 50 books in your childhood home.
8. Had more than 500 books in your childhood home.
9. Were read children’s books by a parent.
10. Had lessons of any kind before you turned 18.
11. Had more than two kinds of lessons before you turned 18.
12. The people in the media who dress and talk like me are portrayed positively.
13. Had a credit card with your name on it before you turned 18.
14. Your parents (or a trust) paid for the majority of your college costs.
15. Your parents (or a trust) paid for all of your college costs.
16. Went to a private high school.
17. Went to summer camp (yes, I went to band camp, and choir camp.)
18. Had a private tutor before you turned 18.
19. Family vacations involved staying at hotels.
20. Your clothing was all bought new before you turned 18.
21. Your parents bought you a car that was not a hand-me-down from them.
22. There was original art in your house when you were a child.
23. You and your family lived in a single-family house.
24. Your parents owned their own house or apartment before you left home.
25. You had your own room as a child.
26. You had a phone in your room before you turned 18.
27. Participated in a SAT/ACT prep course.
28. Had your own TV in your room in high school.
29. Owned a mutual fund or IRA in high school or college.
30. Flew anywhere on a commercial airline before you turned 16.
31. Went on a cruise with your family.
32. Went on more than one cruise with your family.
33. Your parents took you to museums and art galleries as you grew up.
34. You were unaware of how much heating bills were for your family.

I find myself wanting to say 'yes, but...' to most of the ones I bolded, but somehow I don't think that's the point...

little easters

This year through Lent, Holy Week and Easter, my inner emotional journey did not quite match up with this particular cycle of the church year. I didn't really set out to give anything up for Lent and the church of which I'm a part did not follow a particular theme that led us deeper and deeper toward Good Friday and the cross.

But it's not as if I didn't 'get' that part: the anticipated emotional turmoil, the being troubled about the sinful state of my being, etc. Oh, I 'get' that alright. I 'get that' to the point that when I heard a sermon on Friday about how Christ's decent into hell meant that he went there to be with me because I put myself there in my own little hell, well, she was preaching to me. I 'got' that. But naming how I was feeling was only that. Naming it. Just because it had a name doesn't mean it went away.

And so I wasn't sure what to expect on Easter morning. I helped lead the service that I had helped plan. We did an Easter Lessons and Carols service where we traipsed through Scripture like we sometimes do right before Christmas to see that Christ is who was prophesied about. The promises of salvation and resurrection are there too, just like those for incarnation. So that was cool, but it just kind of washed over me instead of through me like I hoped it would.

I was finally able to articulate this to a friend yesterday over coffee. That I didn't follow the dramatic decrescendo to Good Friday and even more dramatic crescendo (or subito forte, for any music geeks reading) of Easter. I was apologetic about this but she appropriately gave me the permission I needed to have for this to be okay.

So I didn't have this grand Easter 'resurrection from the death of Lent' experience that I've had in the past, but instead have tried to claim the little Easters that have sprouted in random places. The sum total of them maybe get me to a place of joy and rest, but they've been separated enough that they've really only provided small respites as they come. Here's a few:

- fresh strawberries with French Silk ice cream
- a house full of family that was totally empty a few days before
- a phone call with an invitation for a beer and a pool lesson
- a purple hyacinth that replaces the smell of Easter dinner with the smell of spring
- a meeting where the agenda was prayer and love, and only that
- a morning walk in total sunshine

In some ways it's a comfort to know that the realities of Easter are not confined to the date on the calendar that we set aside to remember what happened. As 'Easter Chrsitians' we live in a 'resurrection reality' all the time. But sometimes this means that Lent is not confined to the six weeks prior to Easter either. It gets to--has to--be both. The dying and the rising. Death and life. Both.

something I wrote for something else

Rehearsal/Performance

I’ve been in choirs for a large part of my life. And have always been an enthusiastic participant, especially on the day of a performance when the director told us to “sing it like we mean it.” This was kind of hard to do in middle school when most of our songs were either about ice cream or the state capitals, but as I’ve gotten older, the text I’ve sung have gotten richer. And this has often made it easier to “sing it like I mean it,” because when it comes to singing about God and Jesus Christ and the work of the Holy Spirit in the world, I do mean it. This has lead to some really rich performances.

But not that long ago, in the middle of a choir rehearsal, it hit me that just because a song text was worthy of being sung in truth during a performance doesn’t make it any less true during a rehearsal. And all of a sudden, singing texts like “worthy is the Lamb,” and “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace” over and over again in a rehearsal became a devotional experience for me. In rehearsal we actually experience part of the reality of the performance.

I’ve had this discussion about worship as well. In a class I’m helping teach, we have talked about what happens on Sunday morning as a rehearsal for the worship that is happening in heaven. As with any metaphor, this breaks down eventually, but the truth remains that when we gather together for worship on Sunday morning, we are joining the hosts of heaven in the worship of God that is happening day and night around the throne.

Read Revelation 4 and 5 to get a glimpse of what worship in heaven is like.

truth

The costs of discipleship and obedience to Christ are huge. And if you commit to it, your life will never ever be the same.

not good at

Found this whilst blog-surfing:

Be silent.
Be still.
Alone.
Empty
Before your God.
Say nothing.
Ask nothing.
Be silent.
Be still.
Let your God look upon you.
That is all.
God knows.
God understands.
God loves you
With an enormous love,
And only wants
To look upon you
With that love.
Quiet.
Still.
Be.

Let your God--
Love you.

~~Edwina Gately

flashbacks

I'm finally getting iTunes up and running on the new computer and am currently going through my CD collection... almost entirely made up of CDs purchased in the 5-6 yr period of late high school and early college. This collection is comprised of what was hottest in CCM, Family Christian Bookstore, etc. at the time (roughly 8 yrs ago). Needless to say (then why am I saying it?), my music tastes have changed somewhat since then, but it still is quite the journey. I'm letting myself listen to the first track or two on each CD as it is downloading and that's been quite enough to bring me back, thank you very much. Yikes.

nothing but

Conviction about something I need to do has been growing for a while now to the point that I can no longer avoid the truth about it. It all started with this quote:

"Do not be surprised, therefore, when you have yielded your
service, given your affection, and poured out your heart to that pleasure of
yours, your idol, your own lust and mischief--do not be surprised, then, if you
have no appetite for Christ, or for that heavenly food." --Robert
Bruce

Then I heard Dallas Willard speak and something he said got under my skin and hasn't left. He talked about how the mind of the flesh stops at things that are natural to us. And we use this as an excuse all the time for our words, actions, etc. "Oh, that's just what comes naturally to me." or "that's just how I am." Well, guess what, if we claim to have the Spirit of God, natural is no longer where we're allowed to settle. We need to expect the supernatural. From ourselves and from God.

Then all of a sudden it was the beginning of Lent and I briefly wondered about giving this thing (or these things) up because I had read about someone else who had found herself needing to do it.

Then one of the Lectionary passages from a week ago was about the Samarian woman at the well that asks Jesus to give her water that would never make her thirsty again and he said to her, "whoever drinks the water I give her will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give her will become in her a spring of water willing up to eternal life" (Jn 4:14). And I realized that I was not satiating the thirst I have with the Living Water but with the cheapo stuff that won't ever really satisfy.

Then last night I watched a documentary of sorts about community revival and transformation. And I knew that some things needed to change in my life. I couldn't just look for the small obedience anymore.

So.... drum roll please.... even though Lent is almost over and Easter is quickly approaching, I'm giving up books for awhile. No reading. No reading anything but the Word of God. When I'm thirsty for words, for stories, for companionship between pages, I need to be reading my Bible. When I satisfy this hunger with anything but God, I've essentially said that God doesn't count. And there's nothing true about that.

This seems silly as I type it. It's more drastic in my heart than I could make it on 'paper.' But I'm going for it. Who knows where it will take me...

to catch up

1. I finished A Year of Living Biblically. I was kind of disappointed by the end.

2. Started and didn't finish a considerable number of really bad books.

3. Fell in love with books by Adriana Trigiani. She writes about a charming fictional town in the mountains of Virginia called Big Stone Gap, and the people who live there are normal: they use bad grammar, can't maintain consistently healthy relationship and screw up in a variety of other ways. In other words, not so neat and clean, but the writing is.

4. I also started reading both Wild at Heart and Captivating, both by John Eldredge with input from his wife Stasi. I don't completely hate either one of them yet, but I don't buy everything either. Though I think that's probably what I feel about most things I read.

5. Having it be sunny today makes me feel like someone took the lid off the tin can of my world.