I am watching my children lip sync with pretend instruments to songs on Pandora. They are sweating and dancing, Keely's style is interpretive with intermittent somersaulting across the living room. Meanwhile Rhys is laying on the floor in the middle of it all looking at a Curious George coloring book eating his boogers. Vance, a part of the band, takes a stoic role, standing there moving only his lips while wearing a 4-inch wooden fish around his neck. Ryleigh plays any instrument necessary for the current song and effortlessly imagines nearby items fit the bill. Sadie plays pillow drums while sitting on a red plastic motorcycle while dressed like Frozen's Elsa.
It's raining outside, foggy and gray.
In here it's a weird concert with stage props and an artistic plot line that is obviously over my head. It's warm though. And comfortable. And even if I don't get what they are putting out, it's enjoyable to see them play, because I like the music and I know the band.
Lately, I've been in the Word more than usual. I've been rushing through my morning routine so I can sit down at the table with my breakfast drink and crack open my duct-taped book. I like it there. Much like the concert living room rock concert it confuses the heck out of me. So many parts I don't know what they mean or why God would do what he does, but I keep going back; determined to figure something out. I've begun exploring parts I've glossed over for years or avoided altogether. I've returned to the familiar underlinings, the tiny hearts, arrows convicting me of my need to love others more. I keep opening the Bible, again and again, because even if I don't always understand what the seemingly artistic plot is, I know the band and in this cold gray rainy world he sings of Love.
(This was originally written a couple of years ago, but for whatever reason I never published it. With my seven day posting promise, I am counting this as good.)
Tuesday, February 13, 2018
Monday, February 12, 2018
Decades of Dealing
Because I am trying to post everyday I have taken to reading from my journals for inspiration. You know what? I have been writing about and asking God for the same things for a long time. He answers the prayers, but then I fall into the same patterns again. If you didn't read the dates on my entries you would think it was from the same time period, most likely from this week, but nah, it spans the last 3 decades. This could have something to do with the fact that I have been having babies for 20 years and I am stuck in some crazy remake of the movie "Groundhog's Day" Toddler Edition or that the same frustrations, the same tendencies rear their heads in my life again and again. I believe that there has been improvement and that I don't stay as long in the issues that plague me before I ask for help or move forward, but there is no mistake they are there and still the same. The same struggles, the same sin, the same unbelief, the same victories, the same repentance, the same celebrations. Maybe this says something about my immaturity and that my walk with God is not what it should be or maybe it's just the trajectory of a normal life. Maybe it doesn't shoot straight up or even have a steady consistent curved ascent. Maybe it's that we take 3 steps up the staircase of life and one step back down as we fight the battle, the boredom, the unbelief, and then we take another 3 steps up. Maybe life is more like a sine wave where we praise God from the spiritual mountain tops and ask where he is in the valley and beg to catch a glimpse of him. Where we get dinner on the table and the laundry washed, folded and realize we haven't showered in over 3 days. Where we think we have it all together because our kid is wearing matching socks and then we see the mom on Instagram who is dressing her toddler in freaking white clothes. (Really, white? Are you even a human?) Anyway, my point is that I am working for progress not perfection. And maybe this sudden realization that I keep dealing with the same crap despite the decade can lend me some insight in how to deal even more quickly and get back on top of the waves or a bit further up the staircase.
Sunday, February 11, 2018
Random Post
I still remember a dream I had when I was five, except for a long time I didn't know it was a dream; I believed that it really happened.
My mom and I were out back in the yard playing on a summer day. She said it was time to take a nap and we went into her room to lay down. I remember the white walls of her bedroom that needed a fresh coat of paint and the white thin blanket on the bed. I remember her falling asleep and me sneaking from the bed to continue playing outside. When I slid the screen door open and stepped onto the small wooden porch I looked to my left and down the four steps leading to the well worn path to our driveway. There at the bottom of the steps was a folding chair with a little boy sitting on it. The chair was one we used at holidays and when anyone came for dinner so we could all fit around our table. It was black metal with a gray hardly-padded cardboard seat cover with a splash of red paint on it right near the edge by his knee. He wore sneakers without socks, cutoff denim shorts and a shirt although I don't remember what it looked like. His arms were straight by his side grasping either side of the chair and on his head was a brown paper bag, like the kind we got our groceries in. He didn't say anything. He didn't move. I was afraid though. Panic welled up in me and to this day I can still remember the fear as I screamed trying to turn and run into the house while struggling with the screen door. I wasn't afraid because of surprise. I was afraid because I knew he was the Devil. I believed for whatever reason that the this kid on a chair in my yard was Satan. I felt the fear and the evilness and ran. My mom grabbed a crying me and pulled me into bed and held me until I fell asleep. When I woke up the chair was still there but the boy was gone. For years I didn't recognize it as a dream but as reality and refused to sit in that chair. Thirty Six years later I still feel that dream and if given the opportunity will sit in a different chair. (Yes, my parents still own it.)
My mom and I were out back in the yard playing on a summer day. She said it was time to take a nap and we went into her room to lay down. I remember the white walls of her bedroom that needed a fresh coat of paint and the white thin blanket on the bed. I remember her falling asleep and me sneaking from the bed to continue playing outside. When I slid the screen door open and stepped onto the small wooden porch I looked to my left and down the four steps leading to the well worn path to our driveway. There at the bottom of the steps was a folding chair with a little boy sitting on it. The chair was one we used at holidays and when anyone came for dinner so we could all fit around our table. It was black metal with a gray hardly-padded cardboard seat cover with a splash of red paint on it right near the edge by his knee. He wore sneakers without socks, cutoff denim shorts and a shirt although I don't remember what it looked like. His arms were straight by his side grasping either side of the chair and on his head was a brown paper bag, like the kind we got our groceries in. He didn't say anything. He didn't move. I was afraid though. Panic welled up in me and to this day I can still remember the fear as I screamed trying to turn and run into the house while struggling with the screen door. I wasn't afraid because of surprise. I was afraid because I knew he was the Devil. I believed for whatever reason that the this kid on a chair in my yard was Satan. I felt the fear and the evilness and ran. My mom grabbed a crying me and pulled me into bed and held me until I fell asleep. When I woke up the chair was still there but the boy was gone. For years I didn't recognize it as a dream but as reality and refused to sit in that chair. Thirty Six years later I still feel that dream and if given the opportunity will sit in a different chair. (Yes, my parents still own it.)
Evangelism 101
*Love others well and the world will know you follow Jesus.
*Be patient and kind and the world will know you follow Jesus.
*Don't demand others see your point of view, just live out your convictions and the world will know you follow Jesus.
*Don't act rudely, be jealous, or brag about your accomplishments and belongings and the world will know you follow Jesus.
*Don't hold grudges or be easily irritated and the world will know you follow Jesus.
*Rejoice when truth wins, not when injustice reigns and the world will know you follow Jesus.
*Don't give up, don't lose faith, and bear every hardship in life with the hope of better things to come and the world will know you follow Jesus.
Put away the tracts, love is always relevant. Love always wins.
Friday, February 9, 2018
Still Wrestling with the Purpose of the Church
Too often I get hung up on thinking that this space has to be pretty, lengthy, and somewhat cohesive. I'm not sure why because these boundaries are stifling and then I don't write anything. So I am going to brain dump every day for the the next seven days as an experiment of sorts. To push past the imaginary fence posts I have erected and I'm not going to paint the barn, ie. not polish my words. Let's see where this takes us. Maybe nowhere. Maybe I'll just have seven days of random posts and then I won't post again for another year. Either way it isn't going to matter because this doesn't have to be pretty, lengthy, or cohesive.
We are to be agents of God's plan to give himself to a hurting world--a world that desperately yearns for a wholeness and rightness that can only come from him. When we serve as his representatives to alleviate the struggle and pains of those in need we create this dynamic that automatically draws others in. There are those who benefit from the service that find help and healing through having a need met and there are those who want to join in helping others. In both of these instances relationships are initiated and fostered. As we live authentic lives alongside others we are given opportunities to share our beliefs and hopes. Those that agree with our belief system will desire to know more and want to fulfill the calling God has put on their lives. This recognition of purpose then creates a space to corporately wrestle through the ambitious and challenging writings of scriptures and to apply them to our lives, as difficult as that can be. When those that don't share in our belief system continue to engage with us in service and relationship a symbiotic connection occurs. They enrich our lives because of who they are while holistically challenging our walk with God, in turn, hopefully they benefit from the kindness of God, a healthy equally challenging friendship, all while achieving His purpose through acts of service. It's a win-win. Seismic waves that ripple from our lives, resonate with others and waves of God's love concentrically reach those surrounding them and so on it goes. When the church's purpose is service, disciples of Christ are made, lives are transformed and his kingdom is brought closer to the here and now.
"Historically, religion has more often been a belonging system or a belief system, than an actual system of transformation. When belonging and believing is your primary concern, you do not really need healing or growth, or even basic spiritual curiosity. All your homework is done for you and handed to you. If you let the group substitute for your own inner life or your own prayer journey, all you need to do is attend." - Richard Rohr
We are to be agents of God's plan to give himself to a hurting world--a world that desperately yearns for a wholeness and rightness that can only come from him. When we serve as his representatives to alleviate the struggle and pains of those in need we create this dynamic that automatically draws others in. There are those who benefit from the service that find help and healing through having a need met and there are those who want to join in helping others. In both of these instances relationships are initiated and fostered. As we live authentic lives alongside others we are given opportunities to share our beliefs and hopes. Those that agree with our belief system will desire to know more and want to fulfill the calling God has put on their lives. This recognition of purpose then creates a space to corporately wrestle through the ambitious and challenging writings of scriptures and to apply them to our lives, as difficult as that can be. When those that don't share in our belief system continue to engage with us in service and relationship a symbiotic connection occurs. They enrich our lives because of who they are while holistically challenging our walk with God, in turn, hopefully they benefit from the kindness of God, a healthy equally challenging friendship, all while achieving His purpose through acts of service. It's a win-win. Seismic waves that ripple from our lives, resonate with others and waves of God's love concentrically reach those surrounding them and so on it goes. When the church's purpose is service, disciples of Christ are made, lives are transformed and his kingdom is brought closer to the here and now.
"Historically, religion has more often been a belonging system or a belief system, than an actual system of transformation. When belonging and believing is your primary concern, you do not really need healing or growth, or even basic spiritual curiosity. All your homework is done for you and handed to you. If you let the group substitute for your own inner life or your own prayer journey, all you need to do is attend." - Richard Rohr
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