His Bride

At the end of 2009, I wrote in my journal: 

Dear Jesus, Thank you for meeting me today. For reminding me why I live and for whom I live. Holy Fire, consume what is of me. I want more of You and less of me, Jesus. I am afraid of being seduced or lulled to sleep by the baubles and empty promises of pleasure in this world. Your Word has goaded me today to focus on what is important - the ONE THING. My one goal or resolution in 2010 is to fear God. 

Well, I may as well have prayed for patience. My Gracious God seized this opportunity and 2010 taught me what all I FEARED. God was not at the top of the list. Grace, my teacher, gently and sometimes firmly directed my eyes to see all the ways I live in fear. Fear of my reputation. Fear of men. Fear of failure. Fear of losing control. Fear of being exposed as dumb, weak, or sick. I could go on.

Like my spiritual director pointed out: my desire was a good one. I do want to fear God. And the beginning of that certainly is to know what I really fear. And then to repent. 

Also in that journal from 2009, I had copied and pasted a page from Dan Allender’s book, Cry of the Soul. I wish I could plunk it down in front of you right now. Here is a highlight:

Too often, we let the fear of the world drive us into ourselves, where we find no strength. Instead, we should let it drive us to the fear of God. The fear of God does not drive us away from God, but rather to God. It is only as the fear of God overcomes our fear of the world that we can truly and productively cope with our fears in the world. 

Fear is a flight away from harm. It is the product of helplessness, weakness brought about by a feeling of inadequacy and lack of control. If we demand control and success, we will be destroyed, because in a sinful world our weaknesses will continually be exposed. But if we submit to God instead of demanding control, and serve God instead of insisting on success then we will be changed and our fears will dissipate. God’s sovereignty is the ultimate issue as we face this choice.

So it comes down to trust. Will I trust God with my life, my self, my children? Will I trust that He has a plan and it is good? Will I trust Him with the future of this earth? Will I trust Him?

So what does it look like to trust, to fear God? 

Allender writes, It means to be anxious and eager to greet Him. It means to build our lives around the call of being His bride, to anticipate the pleasure of love and the aroma of passion. To fear God is to be consumed with His presence. 

This phrase captures my heart: to build my life around the call of being His bride. As I have let other fears in, my days have become disoriented. But the call of being His bride  arranges my desires, my priorities, my days. This identity as His bride orients me.

I pray that in 2011, this call will re-orient me to live with eternity in mind. All things will come under the influence of this call. My days will begin by eagerly greeting Him. As circumstances crumble, I will let Him in on it and ask for His help. I will not blame Him when life goes south but seek Him in that darkness. When it is time to celebrate, I will call Him first. 

I desire for this identity - my identity as His bride - to be my core and all other facets of who I am to be arranged around that.

As the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you. Isaiah 62:5

Fear Not

Today I awoke to a dark house excited to spend my first moments alone with God. I tiptoed to the coffee pot then to my chair. A few days ago, I had put my journal in a basket beside the chair in anticipation of these moments. I turned the switch of the lamp balancing coffee and “click” the lightbulb flickered for a moment and died. I sat again in the dark. Wow, Lord, that feels like the enemy.

I whispered a prayer that nothing touches my life but that it first passes through the protective fingers of My Heavenly Father. 

Then, I moved my coffee and journal to the end of the couch and found a working lamp. I sat with the Lord in silence and processed yesterday. I had an appointment with a doctor about my foot. My foot has hurt off and on since spring of 2010. Finally, I found the self-care to go see about it. I sat in the doctor’s office for 2 hours arguing with Cobra that I had insurance coverage. Cigna says, “call Connexis.” 

Connexis says that we have not paid. 

I say, “we have an AUTOMATED BANK DRAFT every month that pays you for these services.” 

Connexis says, “The draft is for the 15th so we won’t have January coverage until 1/15/11.” 

“Crazymaking,” I say, “can’t you see that if we pay on the 15th of each month for that month, in effect, I have no coverage for two weeks out of each month equaling a breach of contract on your part. I am paying for the month and I am getting half the month.” 

She says, “You can pay today.” 

I say, “I paid on the 15th.”  

And so the circular conversation persists for 2 hours. 

I had talked to the ladies at the front desk off and on. Finally, I say to Betsy, “Just let me self-pay.” 

Forget the fact that I pay a large sum of money each month for insurance and if I self-pay today for x-rays and physician services, I likely will never recover the funds. She looks at me with kind eyes and red-spikey hair lining an attractive face and says, “It is now 2:45. Your appointment was at 1:00. I’m sorry. I asked the nurse and she said they cannot see you. I tried.”

I felt battered, needless to say. This process had me questioning the constitution of the United States and the greed and lust of our current culture. Take morality out of free enterprise and what do you have? I am not sure what to call it but many are exploited. I felt like one of those. My reaction to this powerlessness? To bawl. I got on the elevator, tears streaming, and left the scene. 

Back to today. The Lord gently reminds me that He is My Father and that all things that pass into my life are GRACE.

Sam wakes up and pads in asking for his chocolate milk. As I am stirring standing at my kitchen butcher block, I see a little angel he made. The message on the skirt of the angel, “FEAR NOT.” 

Got it, Lord. Thanks. These tiny letters speak to my heart and call my soul back to truth. He speaks through a tiny paper angel constructed in love by 5-year-old fingers. 

Update on 01.7.2011 by gigi

Grateful Instead

This Thanksgiving, as I contemplate the year and what I am grateful for, I am aware of a space growing in my heart. Two years ago, I drew in my journal a root of bitterness. Turns out, I wrote on that root for quite a few months. I attempted to name the things that robbed me of gratitude. These things have another name: resentment. 

Nouwen writes, “Along with trust, there must be gratitude - the opposite of resentment. Resentment and gratitude cannot coexist, since resentment blocks the perception and experience of life as a gift. My resentment tells me that I don’t receive what I deserve. It always manifests itself as envy. Gratitude, however, goes beyond the ‘mine’ and ‘thine’ and claims the truth that all of life is a pure gift.” The Prodigal Son.

In my thinking, resentment leads to bitterness. Resentment means bitter indignation at being treated unfairly. Entitlement is the thread in the fabric of resentment. I assume I know the “fair” way I should be treated. Over time, this entitlement weaves a web of resentment. And as these threads entangle us, a web of bitterness is cast. It binds us and deadens us to the miracle of life. 

I believe my resentment started with my parent’s divorce when I was 12. Shouldn’t I have two parents who love each other and faithfully stay together? I began to expect certain things in life (entitlement). I thought I knew the plan God had for me. This great web of deception became apparent to me upon our return from Honduras. We gave our lives away and I thought I knew the end to that. I thought I knew how things would turn out. When we came home, I was devastated on many levels. As I allowed myself to unravel before God, I came to Him with questions and wrestled honestly before Him. 

In my resentment, I had blamed God for the difficulties.

Only by God’s grace, I started to name the rhizomes. In the naming, they loosened. Finally, the root gave way to space.

The pulling up of the root of bitterness - the changing of the lens - the placing blame on evil, sin, and flesh instead of God - All created a womb-space in me, a place for God to come and dwell. Now this is surely not a one-time event but a life-time process.

As grace filled the spaces the root of bitterness left, new growth has bloomed. As grace fills the womb-space, I am seeing life as a gift. In the place of bitterness, I am grateful instead.

Mary's response to the angel changed her life to be sure. She said: “I am the Lord’s handmaiden. May it be as you have said.” Her yes grew from a microscopic zygote to a movement that has changed the world. May I have the courage, May you have the courage to say yes and create a microscopic space for God to come and dwell.

There is always the choice between resentment and gratitude because God has appeared in my darkness, urged me to come home and declared in a voice filled with affection: “You are with me always and all I have is yours.” Nouwen, The Prodigal Son

he will give strength

The Lord will give strength to His people; The Lord will bless His people with peace. Psalm 29:11

Monday kicked off a four week training marathon for me. I am transitioning from the role as a nurse at the Health Department to a Family Nurse Practitioner. Since January, I have worked two days a week as a nurse. So that training will happen quickly, I am working five days a week for these next few weeks. 

Fear has loomed before me as I entered this season. Can I do this? Will I have the energy? How will my family survive? How will I steward my energy? Will I make the right decisions? So many questions... 

In fact, I had a nightmare involving four pythons at the Cottonwood pool. I’ll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that the fourth python I encountered jumped up on me (he had feet) and licked me on the face. I awakened with adrenaline coursing through my body. No hope of sleep in sight. What, I had to ask, am I afraid of?

A friend of mine and a mighty good aesthetician, Karee Hayes, encouraged me to blog about the chaos of these weeks. She said it really captures her heart when women are honest and vulnerable about the challenges of real life. This exhortation inspired me and it kept bouncing around in my heart.

This morning early, I tiptoed out to the coffee pot. What would God say to me this morning? Where will I find Him today? Where will I spot His fingertips?

Sarah Young (Jesus Calling) reminded me: “The more demanding your day, the more help you can expect from Me. This is a training opportunity, since I designed you for deep dependence on your Shepherd-King. Challenging times wake you up and amplify your awareness of needing My help.” 

Lord, I am aware of my need. Help me. Amen.

I look at the oxen and am reminded that His yoke is easy and His burden is light.

Church at the Soccer Field

Today I had church at the soccer field. Not to be glib, but as I yelled, kicked and jumped around for my son’s team; I met another side of me. The contemptuous soccer mom needs the grace of Jesus. Let me explain...

Our team started the game with a record 1:1 on Sunday at 8:00 a.m. Yes. I said 8:00 a.m. How we are on a team that has a game at 8:00 a.m. on Sunday is yet another post for another day. The tournament began on Saturday with a game at 8:00 a.m. Yes. All this is to say that we were tired. Fried may be another word to describe it. 

Joshua scored the first goal with a slider that buzzed past the goalie. Later Luke booted one in. Number 15 on the other team, Mr. Happy Feet, got around John and let one fly past Jake, our goalie. Not long after that our Blake scored in a break-away. We entered the half 3-1. A mom from the other team took the field and did a few dribbling drills her short blonde hair bouncing like David Bowie’s. In a pair of black yoga pants and a bright pink sports shirt, she led the cheering section in some chants. I’m not kidding. I turned away and walked down to the other end of the field. My chair sat right next to the other team since I parked on the 50 yard line.(What is that called in soccer?) I had noticed the mom when she went down the sideline and gave each mother a high five after they had scored their ONLY goal of the first half. She stopped at my chair. Graciously

Second half: In a series of unfortunate events, the other team scored two goals on our Jake who had the sun directly in his eyes. This factor along with the conspicuous slope of the field toward the goal aided their team to tie us 3:3. We went into double over time. No score. As the parents postured and pontificated on the sidelines, the refs called an end to the game through penalty kicks aka PKs.

With every bit of drama as the World Cup, several (I am still learning the rules of soccer and don’t remember exactly how many) team members stepped up and went one to one with the goalie. One from our team, then one from the other team. It all came down to the final kick by the other team.  He kept the ball low on the ground and whizzed it into the left corner past Gannon, our brave and very able goalie. A bitter end to a bitter battle on the field. 

David Bowie-hair lead the roar from the other sideline. I watched with shock and the alchemy of adrenaline and caffeine with no food churned my stomach. The other team lined up for a high-five parade past Mrs. David Bowie. Our brave warriors deflated slowly left the field not without a few tears. 

Coach Graham came over and said our players fought hard. We all agreed it could have gone either way. Hard way to lose, we murmured the comfort of exhausted, frazzled soccer parents. We gathered up our children and chairs and exited the field with dignity.

As I waited in line for the ladies' bathroom, Mrs. Pink Shirt David Bowie bounces in and assumes the place right behind me. “I just love watching penalty kicks,” she beams. “Our team just played an overtime...” 

“We played you,” I interrupted her unable to endure more of her glee. 

“OH!” she shot back. “You have a great team... that number 1 has an amazing foot.” Thankfully by this time I entered the stall. She was safe from my dagger-eyes. I did not have to interact with her again.

As I reflected on this morning, after we had the long ride home and engaged Joshua on the “what if’s” and the “if only’s” of the game; I realized that I had met a side of myself I did not so much like. A disdainful soccer mom. No hiding it. 

I’m aware that soccer games make me question whether I even LIKE people or not. Yelling parents coaching their kids from the sidelines make me cringe. Yet I turn into some version of that as soon as we fall behind after leading 3:1 at the half. 

So what does this have to do with CHURCH?

At least one paradigm of church could be to worship God and in so doing meet the empty, orphaned parts of ourselves. 

Granted one missing element in this story, so far, is meeting God; yet on the way we beheld the sunrise. We marveled at the fire bouncing off the Batman Building in the downtown skyline. At least part of our souls had turned toward Our Creator - the One who wakes up the Sun. And so when the contemptuous part of me rose up, I knew where to take her. Worship looks like acknowledging the fallen, broken parts of me and depending on my Father to provide the grace.

Sue Monk Kidd writes, “The life of the spirit is never static. We’re born on one level, only to find some new struggle toward wholeness gestating within. That’s the sacred intent of life, of God – to move us continuously toward growth, toward recovering all that is lost and orphaned within us and restoring the divine image imprinted on our soul.”

Meanwhile, back at my REAL CHURCH, Lloyd preached on dying to live and what it looks like to be a disciple. Technology makes it easy for me to hear the message. So later I dialed it up. What does it look like to die in order that I may live, really live? Lloyd said, “In any and every circumstance recognizing: It’s not about me. I don’t have to be right. I don’t have to get my way. When we live that way, the gospel expresses itself.”

This week I am left to ponder the contempt residing in my heart. Confess it. Repent of it. Ask Jesus to blow a fresh wind through this stale heart and wait to see what He does.