“And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man;
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things.”
From “Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey” by William Wordsworth
I felt it coming as I was reading that morning, and it did several times. The words on the page set the tone for the whole day. The tears came again as I gave Mom a good morning hug, and again in church, and again as I talked with my friend, and oddly, again when I stopped to “air up” my tires at the WaWa station.
I’m brought into these seasons of crying not by hormone imbalance – that I recognize and this isn’t it. It happens when I realize that I’m on to something important, maybe life changing, certainly life enriching. It happens when I become aware that I’m learning something, not by my own doing, by through God’s hand, his methods, his inspiration. It’s so cool, it makes me cry.
Suddenly, I feel kind of raw, hyper-aware of people and circumstances around me. There is possible meaning, potential meaning in EVERYTHING because I feel God in action and I have no idea what he’s going to do next.
I guess, to start with, I’m just so impressed that he’s dealing with me, on a personal level, giving me something I didn’t have before. That happened, with the aforementioned book. Later, the same subject came up with a little more to think about as I listened to the sermon. And the friend thing… I think it’s pretty common to lose it when a friend who knows you well notices that something is going on. All it took was a sympathetic word and I was crying again. Sorry Christine (haha, and thanks).
The hyper-awareness part comes when I realize that I’m being taken care of by someone in high places who is listening in on every conversation, every thought and is literally everywhere around me, even as close as the air I breathe. Small favors are no longer coincidences, they are blessings and assurances.
How does the gas station work it’s way in there, you might wonder. Lately I seem to be searching for air pumps at gas stations all the time. I felt pretty lucky when I started finding that they accepted credit cards and I didn’t have to hunt for change. But last Sunday when I pulled into the WaWa, I found an air pump labeled FREE AIR! What unexpected generosity… It was a sweet machine with good instructions. It gave me a digital reading for each tire before it pumped it up to the amount I punched in. And I was crying again because it was cold and raining and I was grateful for something that worked, worked well.
Today, to match this season I’m in, the sky is also crying and I feel somehow aligned with it. We were made to have seasons, the sky and I, and I’m glad for that. Just sayin’…
Consider grass, the perfectly rounded tips of new blades, the translucent greenness as the light shines through. Consider the unseen numbers of tiny cellular factories actively converting the sun’s energy into growth. This far surpasses any technology we call “awesome”. Whoever is behind the idea of grass is the real “awesome”. Just sayin’…
And by “through family” I mean through the experience of having children and to some extent by being a child. I can hardly begin to name or number the “aha!” moments when something going on between me and my children has caused me to stop and wonder if I am being taught a lesson. I have so come to believe that the family was intended to be God’s school of life, teaching us how he wanted us to view him in his role as father, teaching us how to grow strong, smart, productive and fulfilled as children.
So lately, I am alongside a few family members who are struggling with feeling significant, cared about and noticed. They are on my mind daily, sometimes hourly and sometimes for every minute of the hour. I want them to know I love them. I’m not a person who routinely stalks others or obsessively calls or texts (well, maybe a little too free with the texting…) but I do get desperate at times – wanting them to know how I value them for just being themselves. I love them. I want a word better than love to describe how I feel.
For these reasons, something in my reading today just leaped off the page for me. Here it is: “Love always wants to be known.” Have you felt the truth of this? It’s also true that I want to be loved but this is talking about the giving side of the equation, not the receiving. I somehow feel that if I could communicate love to someone, it would help them. They would not view their circumstances in the same way. They would not feel alone. They would have their “I AM LOVED” armor on and it would protect them.
And then I get it, suddenly, a richer, wider view of God. This is what he wants me to know, really know.
He loves me. That’s where my experience of him is supposed to start.
Okay, there is Jesus giving up a previous position, going through the human thing and dying for my sin. That’s big, but honestly, I sometimes have trouble relating to it. I sometimes miss the “why” behind it all.
He loves me and wants me to know it.
In his book “The Divine Conspiracy” Dallas Willard quotes another writer, Julian Norwich, “…for God wishes to be seen, and he wishes to be sought, and he wishes to be expected, and he wishes to be trusted.” In my frustrating, doubting times, I’ve wondered how I could become convinced of this. More often, I’ve wondered how I could convince others of this. I think I know how it’s happening with me. Again, Dallas Willard explains it in a way I totally understand.
“Persons rarely become present where they are not heartily wanted. Certainly that is true for you and me. We prefer to be wanted, warmly wanted, before we reveal our souls — or even come to a party. The ability to see and the practice of seeing God and God’s world comes through a process of seeking and growing in intimacy with him.”
I have to want God, want to be loved by him and to know him. And maybe that is the question for many. Who is God that I should want to know him? Is that your question?
Details, details
I know what a gateway and an alcove is. I have an idea what a portico is. Parapet, maybe? But really, trying to come up with a picture that looks like a building from the description in Ezekiel chapter 40, I just can’t do it. They are all mentioned over and over again, complete with measurements, in all four quadrants of the compass, and oh, throw in several sets of stairs, some courtyards and miscellaneous openings too.
Mom and I were sitting in the airport restaurant with some time to spare and this chapter was today’s reading from the Old Testament, NIV Bible. What was troubling to me, was verse four of the same chapter where our prophet Ezekiel was told that all this detail was important for some reason. He was supposed to “listen closely and pay attention” so he could tell people everything he saw. Trying to figure out stuff like this has always been part of what makes Bible reading problematic for me.
Later, on the way home from the airport, I started thinking about it again – which is always a good thing to do if you have asked God to help you understand something. Here was a man who had a vision of some kind. It could have been a dream, but I don’t think I’ve heard of anyone dreaming with this kind of detail and then remembering it. He’s inspired to record it and it is somehow preserved for a loooooong time for people to read later and wonder about the detail in it. I know people who would say there is great significance in all the measurements and numbers and that may be. For me, what jumps out is that God was clearly caring about a lot of details.
You know, just maybe he wanted us to know that about him. Maybe he is a “detail guy”.
Perhaps, when he’s asked to help plan, he is able to arrange events and time them so that over the summer I am able to travel four different areas of the world with just enough energy and finances to suffice.
Perhaps he is able to move people in and out of my life to allow for me to be helpful, but not overwhelmed by all the stress and travel.
Perhaps he can bring me together with family members for some significant relational time, even though the arrangements are complicated.
Perhaps he can make possible a stay at a cottage by the beach for mom and me, when my remodel project isn’t finished yet.
Perhaps he can handle a delayed flight (maybe he even arranged it) that ended up with mom getting a better non-stop flight home, with the window seat she kind of longed for. And maybe he put the right person in front of us, apparently waiting for us, who was able to come up with that idea and make it happen. (Thank you Delta!)
I wanted more pictures of mom and me together and we had time for one more lame “selfie”. (Mom says I don’t really look like that. Would someone please take some candid pics of us doing something besides looking at a cell phone camera?)
And how we enjoyed the extra time that allowed us to eat a leisurely breakfast together and read Ezekiel 40. I’m just sayin’, God is pretty detail oriented and this is not the first time I’ve noticed.
It’s one of those days when even though nothing specific is terribly wrong, everything in general seems terribly wrong and overwhelming. Had one like that? It doesn’t help that our house, which has poor lighting and is usually dark inside, is even darker today with the cloud cover and rain outside.
Even as I try to get in touch with the joy I know is somewhere inside me, I can’t stop looking at the disorder, mess, and accumulation of things in my house that put me into a near catatonic state. Who would think that remodeling one small space in the house could affect the whole? I wander from room to room looking for something that I can make a decision about. Do I need it? Can I part with it? Where will I put it if I keep it? How do I get ride of it? Should I sell it or just put it out by the road to be picked up? How can an innocent jar of paper clips that I don’t need immobilize me? (Paper clips are good and these are the cute colored ones! I was given a donation of office items and I know someone needs them, but who?)
I went outside this morning thinking it would clear my mind and give me a better perspective. I ended up pruning a beautiful bush that had finally gotten full size and was bearing beautiful yellow flowers. Unfortunately it is planted right next to our AC unit and is a constant frustration to the men who service it. A beautiful plant in the wrong place, along with countless others in the overgrown acre I call home. That didn’t help my perspective much.
And even as the husband and I prayed over our day, I let him do most of the talking. Today I am just not in touch with the part of my brain that houses joy. It keeps me from being relational with God and with others. I kind of shut down. I’m not proud of it. I’m just tired and ruined and feeling my humanness, if that’s a word. My own superficial problems, the problems of those I love, the disease and fighting in the world, the homeless children, the anger, the injustice – I can’t keep up with it all.
Time is moving fast, and it really is a gift from God that things change. I know I will feel different if I wait long enough, especially if I ask God for help in understanding where I fit in. There is a reason, a purpose for my being here in this place, at this time. Even as uncomfortable as it is to be revealing my gloomy self in a post, there is probably something behind the urge I felt to write this way. Even in this state of mind I know these things.
There is a God, there is a Jesus and nothing anyone says or thinks adequately explains them away.
There is real evidence that what I need to know about him is given to me in scripture.
Scripture tells me and my experience bears it out, that he is good and powerful and loves me.
I am safer with him, no matter what circumstances look like, than anywhere else.
And for now, on this dark, rainy day, I will keep those things in mind as I search for some meaningful activity to dispel the gloom. My precious daughter in Seattle turns to housecleaning when she feels oppressed, so I will too and there’s no shortage of things to clean around here… just sayin’.
This post was prompted by a cartoon I saw on a T shirt. Three horses, wide eyed. The first one “What if that stick moved?!” The second one, “What if it didn’t move?!” The third one, “Let’s spook!” I am a bit spooky at times.
A long time ago, back in Wisconsin when I was a young mother, I got a pastoral visit from my minister. He listened patiently to my angst about hearing from God. I didn’t have a handle on how an invisible God who says He is always with me could give me directions. When all those people in the Bible heard voices telling them what to do (think “go to a mountain and sacrifice your son” type of message…) were they really hearing a spoken voice, or the voice in their head? And if it was that voice in their head, was it more than just a feeling or a conviction? How did they know it was God and not just themselves remembering a nightmare (think “go against this vast army with 100 of your best men” type of message…)? I had children to raise. I needed to know.
This is what he told me. “You think too much.”
Well, just like a person who thinks too much, I’ve been thinking about this for years. It was a very observant assessment.
I read a story about a person who was about to board a flight with their family. As they were lining up to traverse the jetway they got the message to not go, from God. They were Christians and evidently in very close communication with their heavenly Father so they didn’t board the plane. The plane crashed and all on it were killed. I think about this frequently, actually every time I get on a plane, and wonder if I would have the guts to waste a ticket that I’ve paid dearly for based on a gut feeling that I shouldn’t get on the plane. How weird would that be? Then I wonder if the fact that I’m thinking about it, is God telling me to do it. Then I get on the plane and fly to where ever it is I’m going.
The good thing that I’ve learned about God is that he knows me better than I know myself. I’ve seen the things he’s made and figured out so my confidence in his genius leadership has developed. After all, if he’s taken on responsibility for all these people who sign up to be on his team, he must be one awesome, amazing leader. Does he know I think too much? Yes. Does he know how to get me to do something? Probably. When I’m willing to follow orders will he leave me wondering? I don’t think so. If I’m not supposed to be on the plane, he will send someone to drag me off. He made me. He knows me. He loves me even when I think too much.
I”m just sayin’, if he weren’t that awesome, he wouldn’t be God.
Luck of the draw, to draw a following, I’m drawn to that, draw your weapon, draw me aside, draw up, draw down, draw away. After a while this simple word with only four letters starts to sound and look funny because of all the ways it appears in our speech – 25 different meanings in my dictionary. The common thread seems to be the ability to cause to move in a particular direction. That causes me to think, what draws me? What causes me to move in a particular direction, toward or away from something? Or someone?
I’m drawn to things of beauty. I’m drawn to simplicity. I’m drawn to optimism. I’m drawn to challenges. I’m drawn to usefulness. And when none of these things exist, I’m still drawn to being wanted. I want to be wanted. That word starts to sound funny to me too.
It started back in grade school where it was mandated that we go out and play, like it or not. I loved it, especially when it was the season to play kick ball, or touch football. Those were mostly “boy sports” but there were at least two of us girls who always wanted to be included and knew the rules of the games. It was good, no it was GREAT, when we were picked to be on a team, not last, but somewhere in the middle between the star players and the incompetents. We were valued and wanted.
Even now, I will do some things that I don’t necessarily like to do, simply because someone I care about wants me to do it. No beauty involved, maybe complex and inconvenient, maybe not completely fun, maybe I’m not being useful, but someone affirms my value by wanting me. That is a very strong draw. (Disclaimer: This is not to say that I DO everything I’m drawn to. I can’t. I don’t.)
What started this train of thought was a very beautiful, peaceful song by a group called “Selah”. It’s called simply “Oh Draw Me, Lord”. I’ve heard all my life that God draws people, which is what this song is about, and I started wondering how, and why. The only other words in the song besides “draw me” are “and I’ll run after you.” It sounds to me like God does something first and then I respond.
I’m no theological genius, but it makes sense to me that if there is a God, he should make the first move. He should have a way of drawing my attention to himself. He should show me stuff he’s done, he should get me curious, he should be fun and maybe a bit mysterious. Yeah, I know it sounds kind of like the perfect boyfriend/girlfriend. Actually, the analogy holds because the “why” is the same in both cases. I am wanted.
I believe God wants me. I believe it intellectually, emotionally and spiritually. I believe it because this world is just too awesome to be here for any reason except to draw our attention. Honestly, do you have a beloved pet? Have you looked into a pair of soft animal eyes and not wondered what they were thinking and why they loved you? Have you spent a few minutes at sunset, looking at the colors in the sky and the formation of the clouds and not felt something in your spirit? It’s not just that it’s there, but also that I can see it, and think about it, and call it beautiful. I am drawn to wonder, and I haven’t heard of an adequate scientific explanation of why that happens.
My response is, “go ahead God, draw me more, keep doing it. I want to be sure that I’m wanted.” I don’t think I have to be worried about being the last one picked for the team either. There is a statement in a miraculously preserved book, that claims God has said “If I be lifted up, I will draw all men to me”. There isn’t anybody he doesn’t want! I’m just saying that this is what makes me want to know more, and that’s what “running after” is all about.
Even though I did not get a lot of sleep the night before (might have been up late blogging) today was a day I enjoyed and for which I am thankful. I heard something inspiring and it just happened to be about change. More specifically, about being willing to change things in my own life in order to relate more to other people – to get to know them, to spend time with them, to come to love them. Sitting next to me at the time was an older man who, it struck me, was a good example of this. He was dressed pretty conservatively, except for his socks which were insanely wild and not shy about being seen. I surreptitiously took a picture of them with my cell phone when he wasn’t looking but evidently I wasn’t careful enough and got a picture of the inside of my bag instead. Sorry. You should have seen these socks. George H. Bush would have loved them. This guy was willing to be a bit quirky in order to spark interest, arouse the curiosity of the younger set and enter the world of high fashion. He stepped outside the realm of the average 70-80 year old and I’ll bet some good experiences have come from it. I remain inspired and have some new goals for this week.
Also at this same venue, I was given some letters addressed to me from two very precious women in Cambodia. One I had never met personally but in her letter she assured me that she knew all about me from others and had been praying for me. Her expression of love and encouragement, in a language not her own, was clear and confident. She is a caretaker in an orphan home in Phnom Penh. She sent a picture of herself. I can hardly wait to meet her someday.
The other letter was from a teen age girl I have known for several years. Her family gave her up to live in the orphan home, feeling she would be safer there. Her father had an alcohol problem and in her culture children in those circumstances are often abused or sold into slavery of one kind or another. She excitedly wrote about how her father had started learning about God, had quit drinking, was helping his wife at home and reading the Bible. This was a miracle we had been asking God to work out for years. I could feel her happiness. Change had brought it.
Lastly, I went to work this afternoon. My elderly client, Jack, has thrived in his own home over the last couple of months. He loves to invite people to have dinner with him at his favorite restaurants and tonight it was our turn to be blessed. I drove him to the Lucky Pelican where we met up with “the husband” for a great meal. Later, back at his home, I helped him get ready for sleep. I know it’s part of my job but it’s always a little strange for a grown-up to tuck another grown person into bed. I said “Good night, dear Jack” and he laughed and puckered up for a kiss. He has changed so much.
Change is at the heart of all these experiences today – our ability to change, and God’s ability to change us. He made the most miraculous change, giving up his God existence and living like a man, never again to be quite what he was before (becoming more, not less). Change like this is good (for us). I’m just sayin’ that I’m thankful for everything I’ve become aware of today, thankful there are so many people here on the planet to live with, to love and to pray for. Thankful for change.
Condemn: to express strong disapproval of, to show or declare guilt, to declare unfit for use.
Every now and then the voice of condemnation makes a bid for prominence in my day, my thoughts and feelings. It’s often when I hear the story of a famous, influential person who has accomplished a lot, or when I hear a tribute to someone who used their talent in an extraordinary way and influenced many lives for better. I am tempted to look at my very small circle of influence and compare. The voice points out the ways in which I have not been courageous, or diligent, or faithful, or willing to be involved.
Yesterday I entered the doctor’s waiting room, signed in and took a seat. There was a late 20’s aged girl totally absorbed in telling her life story to an elderly couple. She recounted her home life, her dysfunctional relationship with her father, mother and brother, and the situation she was presently involved in. There were many complaints, tales of poor decisions (blamed on others, of course) and all voiced loudly enough that I had a hard time concentrating on the book I was trying to read. I was wishing not to hear her after five minutes, but after fifteen minutes I was actually considering going outside to escape and asking the desk to call me when it was my turn to go back. The elderly couple was called back and she no longer had an audience, which clearly upset her. She changed chairs and started making comments to herself about how sick she was. She got up and kicked a book off the chair next to her, sat down on that chair, and mentioned out loud how she was not going to pick up the book because she was too sick. I was SO grateful to be called about then and spared having to get into a conversation with her. She had “needy” written all over her and I didn’t want to deal with it.
You see, I am very aware of the miraculous ways in which God is walking into people’s lives and changing their course, and yet I am not always willing to get involved. The truth is that when I have been involved in situations similar to that, they have not turned out well. Over time I have seen that I am ineffective when it comes to counseling, reasoning with people to enlighten them, thinking of what to say to help them. I am not able to change hearts, and much of the time I can’t even figure out what their need is and how to approach them. Here’s where the voice of condemnation would like to finish me off. It would like me to think that I was responsible, and that it is now over, too late. The voice repeats “It’s about you, and your failure.”
I have been convicted of my part and in response I am asking for crazy boldness, extra resourcefulness, time at the right time, and discernment. I know God can teach me these things. I know he forgives me for falling short. If I hear a condemning voice, it is not his and I had better ask who that voice belongs to. It is never too late for God to show what he can do, in fact the later it seems, the more awesome he proves himself to be.
“so, there is now no condemnation…” The Bible, Romans 8:1
Guess what? It is not about me (or any of us). The whole story is about God and what he has done, is doing and will do yet. It is not over, not too late. It’s in progress and we are part of it, a special part, but it is not about us. That is pretty good news, just sayin’…
I Just Have to Say... 