Just Imagine - Hills and Canyons in Texas

It is hot.
Beastly hot.
Sweat running down the middle of your back, 
under your breasts, around your waist hot.
As usual, you have over-packed.
Way over-packed.
Lugging heavy bags in and out of a car in this heat is sweaty work,
and for the zillionth time, you are embarrassed
by your own inability to make wise and concise decisions in regard to wardrobe.
The temperature is nearing 100 as you pull away from your city hotel,
headed out into the west Texas countryside.
Maps are spread out, navigating instructions offered as needed.

Eventually you are headed toward a canyon,
a place you have never been and cannot quite picture,
despite a plethora of photographs online.
But before you arrive,
your traveling companion -
who is basically along for the ride on this one -
wants to check out some historical sites.
Approximately 120 miles out of the way, all tolled.
Because this is a companion you love and have lived with for over 4 decades,
and because his idea is a good one, you acquiesce.
And the journey begins.

The land is parched.
Not enough rain for a good long time now.
Live oaks begin to dot the landscape as the detritus of urban life
disappears into the rear view mirror.
The sky seems larger, and the clouds are roiling and boiling across it -
sometimes forming huge thunderheads,
sometimes spreading themselves into feathery strips, light as gossamer.

The turn-off from the throughway comes sooner than you expect
and you head off to the north a bit,
looking for a town with a strange name for Texas - Fredricksburg.
And when you find it,
there are lots and lots of other German names sprinkled everywhere you look:
Vogel
Engel
Goeblein
Schnitzersneibel

Finally, you see the sign you’re hunting -
Lyndon B. Johnson Historic Park -
and you make a quick left onto a narrow road.

Some who analyze such things have said
that it is impossible to understand the presidency of LBJ
without visiting the ranch, the country where he lived,
the country that he loved.
So, you have come.
Do you understand?
A little better perhaps
You see  his birthplace,
his first one-room school,

his grandparents’ home,

the show-barn where he loved to ride, and lasso cattle,
the hangar where the small shuttle plane still sits (officially, always Air Force One), ready to take the President wherever he needs to go.

And you get to tour the Ranch House, only open to the public for the last 3 years.

And here, in this house, in this home - you get a feel for the man,for his wife, for the life they loved here.
No photographs are allowed inside the house -
a place of warmth and graciousness despite its 8500 square feet.
It feels like a home for ordinary folk, warm and welcoming.
A place where real people lived and fought
and made decisions and learned about life.

And death.
LBJ died here, only 64 years old.
But so much life in those years, so much of our story as Americans.
The hideous war in Vietnam.
The miracle of the Civil Rights Act.
A look at the clock confirms that you will be late for this place in the canyon,
with 90 minutes more driving to do.
And the tension builds within.
Patience grows short.
Do you need gas? Do you not need gas?
Are you on the best route? Should you try this way?
The thunderheads gather overhead, as well as inside your spirit,
dropping their load of long-awaited moisture all over the road ahead.
And the temperature drops right along with it.
Relief.
Space to breathe.

And then it hits you.
This feeling - this tenseness inside,
this knot growing in your belly,
this crazy, hyper-critical thinking -
this is very familiar.
It happens every time you’re nearing something new,
somewhere things are ‘expected’ - at least in your own mind.
You wonder if you will fit,
if others will notice you,
welcome you,
listen to you,
see you.
It’s the treacherous, life-robbing cycle of fear, that’s what it is.
The stuff that crowds out the wonder,
the thick, syrupy, invasive thief of all that is good and holy.

And the only antidote you know is this one: love.
The only one.
So you silently begin the Jesus prayer,
“Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
Big breath in.
Big breath out.

More love, Lord. More love.
Love for this man who patiently drives you across this desert land.
Love for this land,
this view of big sky and big valleys,
of rolling hills and rocky crags.
Love for this adventure, this opportunity, this challenge.
Love for you, Lord.
And the trust that can only be grown in that soil.
Trust that reminds you, ‘all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.’

to be continued… click here to read the follow-up.
 Joining with LL Barkat at SeedlingsinStone for her weekly invitation:

3 additional photos which speak to the quiet beauty of this space

Shifting Gears...Moving Towards Retreat

We've been on a journey the last week or so.

A journey across time and geography,

and a journey that's taken some interesting

twists and turns.

Tomorrow, that journey heads inward

and things will take a definite change in direction.

The first journeying days were spent crossing time

as well as half the country.

We spent 5 days in Nashville, 

visiting some good friends from many years ago.

Friends whose lives have taken them down different byways
  than they could ever have foreseen - 

some of them wonderful, 

some of them hard and thorny.

It was good, really good, to be with them,

to see how their lives have unfolded,

to realize their children have grown to adulthood,

only one of their three left to fledge,

and he'll do that at the end of this school year.

Wasn't it only yesterday that I was the coordinator

for their wedding?

And then another yesterday when their daughter

was flower girl for our eldest daughter's?

Then we flew to San Antonio.

Why?

Good question.

Our plans got changed and I think maybe

God might have had some small thing to do with that.

And no, I'm not going to get all 

weird and woo-woo-ey on you here. 

It's just that there are those times when

things come together in surprising ways,

ways beyond your control, ways that cause you to

take a deep breath and ask,

"Really, Lord? Really?"

The result is that tomorrow morning,

we drive from this very hot, but beautiful city

out into the Texas hill country.

We're searching for a place that could probably

only be found in Texas:

a retreat center that lies at the base of a

canyon and whose main access road

is literally 'through the river.'

There's this writer's retreat, you see.

And I thought it might be a fun thing to do.

It also terrified me to think about being there,

and that little frisson of fear coupled with

excitement has often been the nudging of

the Holy Spirit in my life.

If it scares me to death, it's probably something

I ought to be doing!

So, we're going.

My husband is quite content to explore

on his own while I am in workshops.

Both of us are looking forward to seeing a place

completely new to us,

and I am looking forward to learning

more about writing well - 

using fewer words and more heart,

showing rather than telling.

At the request of my workshop leader,

I am allowing my very feeble submission

to be ripped apart by the group.

Talk about terror.

But I am game and here is why:

I don't really have a clue what I'm doing out here,

writing a couple of times a week on this blog.

I love words,

I love communicating with others,

I have been writing nothing but sermons and prayers

and notes of encouragement for the last 15 years.

Now I need to know how to write 

for completely different reasons,

and with a broader set of tools in my box.

So, I told him, 'have at it.'

And I meant it.

I think.

Big gulp.

Away we go.

 

 Today was Alamo day here in San Antonio.

It's a very small building.

It was a very hot day.

Enough said.

 But today was also the day to ride the riverboat 
  around the Riverwalk area where we are staying.

Now that was right up our alley.

On the water, in the heat,

enjoying the beauty of trees and brightly colored umbrellas.

 This was the river view of the restaurant at our hotel, where we have enjoyed breakfast every day.

 It was a lovely way to spend 40 minutes.

Then we came back and crashed, hot and sweaty and

surprisingly tired for not much activity.

But taking a dip in the rooftop pool helped a bit.

The water felt great - but it dried SO quickly.
Folks, it was 97 degrees at 8:00 p.m. last night.
Now that is hot.
We hear, however, that it has been raining buckets 
out near where we're headed,
so here's hoping for a bit of relief from these 100+ degree days.

It was too hot to eat lunch, so we opted for an early dinner and had that lovely patio all to ourselves.

We did, however, ask the waiter to leave the door to the inside open,

which allowed some air-conditioned breezes 

 to waft their way around our table.

The dinner was delish, the setting peaceful,

but the very best thing about this early evening

al fresco experience?

Seeing this gorgeous guy join the ducks

for a little drink of cool water!

Owls are not usually out and about at 5:30 -

but there he was, staring right at us.

My big lens was up in our room,

but we still got a full face,

looking inquisitively our way.

Somehow it seemed fitting.

This big bird was out of place here and he knew it.

So did the ducks!

But eventually, everyone made him feel welcome

and he hung around for a bit,

eventually heading up into the trees and drawing quite a crowd of people 

 whipping out their phones for a photo.

Maybe we'll eventually feel at home, too.

At any rate, we are outta here at 11:30 or so tomorrow morning.

Prayers much appreciated.

Five Minute Friday: Growing...

Yes, I know it is Saturday. But life loses its structure a bit when you're traveling. So, I'm joining the chorus late this week. Interesting prompt, let's see where it leads...

 GO:

I want to grow until I die. I want to keep reaching up to the light, searching for water, sending roots down deep. I want to bloom wherever I'm planted, as hackneyed as that phrase has become. Growing elicits only positive images for me (most of the time, that is - until someone I know is afflicted with cancer - then I don't like the idea at all!) Growth is about lots of things, isn't it?

It's about learning.

It's about trying new things.

It's about learning to adapt to new environments.

It's about opening your heart, your home, your life to lots of different kinds of people and experiences.

It's about pushing against the edges of the 'pot,' about sending feeler roots deep into the earth, searching for nourishment, soaking up what is necessary for green leaves and blossoms above the soil line.

It's about leaning into the sunlight, reaching for it, sometimes from behind barriers, corners, or larger, thornier plants.

It's about keeping the parts of yourself connected - roots - stems - flowers - fruit.

It's about being grafted into the vine, espaliered against the Rock of Ages, trained to go up and out and around and through.

It's about life, thirsty and hungry for it, lapping it up, drinking it in, celebrating, enjoying, weeping in the seasons of drought as needed, but always, always ALWAYS searching out truth, meaning and love.

STOP

When God Asks the Questions: who do you say that I am?

I am quite late this week in joining with Michelle at her lovely "Graceful" blog, hooking into her weekly invitation to "Hear It on Sunday/Use It on Monday." And the soli deo gloria sisterhood at Jen's blog, "Finding Heaven," where the community is thriving. I'm late because we left CA this a.m. on a 12-day trip, landing in Nashville tonight for a 5 day stay with some long-time friends. Then to San Antonio for 3 days of sight-seeing, then to Laity Lodge for the writer's retreat there and home again on Sunday, October 2. 

As always, the ideas you find here spring directly from the pastor's fine preaching, sifted through my memory and life experience. This week, Don Johnson brought the word.


We jumped to the New Testament on Sunday, to the 8th chapter of Mark - the very center of this gospel. Up to this point, the rapid story-telling of Mark has been focused on the things Jesus did in his ministry; now the focus zeroes in on who Jesus IS. He gives the disciples a bit of a mid-term exam at this point, asking them a string of difficult questions, most of them centered around this idea: "Hey, do you guys get it yet?" 

The question under the spotlight this week is actually about question #11 in this chapter - most of them indicating a bit of impatience, even annoyance. There is an all-too-familiar feel to this line of questioning, leading to a rather paradoxical conclusion: those who profess to know Christ the most often significantly misunderstand him. 

Ouch. 

Have you seen this happen to others? To yourself? A developing rigidity of thought, a desire to keep God in a box of our own design? If so, then this question is of central importance to you. The answer might well determine the trajectory of your entire life:

Who do you say that I am?

 Light.

Rock.

Keystone.

Holy and anointed One.

Risen and exalted One.

"Honey on my lips."

"Water to my soul."

A lamp unto my feet.

A strong and mighty tower.

A shelter like no other.

My light.

My salvation.

God's only Son.

Binder of broken hearts.

Counselor of the confused.

"I will be who I will be"

YHWH.

These are some of the names for God we offered in worship this past Sunday - 

 in song, in prayer, in scripture.

But the question of the hour truly remains:

"Who do YOU say that I am?"

As Jesus began to ask his closest followers about what they were learning 

about him,

about the kingdom of God,

about the purpose of the life they've been living with him,

he asked first:

Who do PEOPLE say that I am?

And the disciples were at the ready with some great answers!

"Some say John the Baptist,

some say Elijah,

and still others, one of the prophets."

Not bad, right?

A prophet, a teacher, a powerful speaker of truth, 

one who calls others to repentance.

But...

Jesus pushes in a little harder, doesn't he?

"So...who do you say that I am, friends?"

As he is often prone to do,

Jesus gets up-close-and-personal,

cutting to the chase,

and putting his friends on the hot-seat.

And Peter - bless him! - Peter

has a moment of astounding insight,

a rare ability to immediately 

come up with the best of all  

possible answers to that question!

"You are the Messiah!"

The chosen one,

the anointed one,

the one sent by God,

the one promised of old,

the one with true authority,

the one who shows us God.

In that moment of divinely inspired speech,

Peter lays it out there.

You, Jesus - you are the ONE.

But here is the rest of that reality:

Peter - and the others with him -

do not yet understand what it means to give Jesus this title.

Their ideas of "Messiah" are miles away 

from who Jesus truly is,

why Jesus came to this earth.

They haven't a clue what is coming for him - and for them.

So, from here on in Mark's gospel,

Jesus is very intentional about showing them,

teaching them, living with them, modeling for them

what God's Messiah looks like.

And they don't like it.

Not one little bit.

Suffering is coming?

Ah no, Jesus, that can't be right!

Peter - the very one who spoke such beautiful truth - 

  pulls Jesus aside and rebukes him!

And that's when the famous line,

"Get thee behind me, Satan!" 

flies from Jesus' lips as he looks at his disciples, 

focusing particularly on Peter.

A cross?

And an empty tomb?

Nah, Jesus - that's just lousy marketing!

Let's jazz it up a little, talk about defeating those Romans,

create a high profile.

And Jesus will have none of it!

"Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves 

 and take up their cross and follow me."

Jesus wants so much more from us than pretty words and classy titles. 

 He wants so much more than pat answers, 

 attendance at weekly worship services, 

paying of a regular tithe.

He asks faithful, thoughtful discipleship.

Openness to the brokenness of this world.

An embrace of the difficult and the troublesome.

A willingness to make the hard choice because it is the right choice.

A desire to go deep,

deep in the Word,

deep in prayer,

deep in service,

deep in devotion.

No matter what. 

 Because that's what he did.

He lived a life of prayer, 

he left healing and wholeness in his wake, 

he came to show us how to live outside the box,

and inside the fellowship of the Triune God, 

connected at a soul level with others 

who are on the same road.

Jesus came to be our Savior, oh yes, he did.

But Jesus also came to be our Lord.

To be the one who counsels us on how we

spend our time

spend our money

spend our lives.

So, I guess the question to me (and to you) is this:

are we willing to step both outside and inside with Jesus?

Outside the box we too often build around our understanding   

of who he is and what he asks of us,

and inside the eternal fellowship of our God,

 learning what it means 

to wrestle it out,

to lean hard into life,

to take the teaching of Jesus, 

the living of Jesus,

the suffering of Jesus,

the rising of Jesus,

the intercession of Jesus at the right hand of God,

all of it! -

to take all of it, embrace it with abandon,

smile inwardly and shout loudly,

"Ah, yes, THIS, this is living."

Who do we say that he is?