An Advent Journal: Stop, Look, Listen - Day 2

"I, Paul, together here with Silas and Timothy, send greetings to the church at Thessalonica, Christians assembled by God the Father and by the Master, Jesus Christ. God's amazing grace be with you! God's robust peace!

Every time we think of you, we thank God for you. Day and night you're in our prayers as we call to mind your work of faith, your labor of love, and your patience of hope in following our Master, Jesus Christ, before God our Father. It is clear to us, friends, that God not only loves you very much, but also has put his hand on you for something special. When the Message we preached came to you, it wasn't just words. Something happened in you. The Holy Spirit put steel in your convictions.

You paid careful attention to the way we lived among you, and determined to live that way yourselves. In imitating us, you imitated the Master. Although great trouble accompanied the Word, you were able to take great joy from the Holy Spirit -- taking the trouble with the joy, the joy with the trouble.

Do you know that all over the provinces of both Macedonia and Achaia believers look up to you? The word has gotten around. Your lives are echoing the Master's Word, not only in the provinces, but all over the place. The news of your faith in God is out. We don't even have to say anything anymore -- you're the message! People come up and tell us how you received us with open arms, how you deserted the dead idols of your old life so you could embrace and serve God. They marvel at how expectantly you await the arrival of his Son, whom he raised from the dead -- Jesus, who rescued us from certain doom.  -- 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10, The Message

There are times in life when the sight of one beautiful red leaf in the middle of a rain-soaked sidewalk is enough to carry you through all kinds of puddles ahead. The day may be grim, the majority of the leaves dried up and rattling in the wind, but there it is. That one thing of beauty, the one that makes you gasp and say, "Thank you!" The one that makes you remember the joy. 

It's not that the puddles disappear or that the brown leaves are suddenly green again. No. The ugliness remains. But somehow, all that is dead and dying is more bearable, a kind of balance has been struck. I cannot explain it, I only know it when it happens. "Taking the trouble with the joy, the joy with the trouble." 

And into the middle of gray days and bone-chilling winds and too-early darkness comes. . . Advent. A small candle flickering against the gloom, a beacon of hope and promise. A time to wait, yes. But a time to wait with hope. 

Where is your red leaf today? Where do you find hope?

Adjust our vision, Lord. Help us to see the trembling flame, the single shining beacon that will lead us to the center of the fulcrum. Help us to find that balance between trouble and joy. And then embolden us to help others find it, too. It doesn't take much, does it? Just something the size of a red leaf. 

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen - Day One, First Sunday

"O LORD, I give my life to you.

I trust in you, my God!

Do not let me be disgraced,

or let my enemies rejoice in my defeat.

No one who trusts in you will ever be disgraced,

but disgrace comes to those who try to deceive others.

Show me the right path, O LORD; 

point out the road for me to follow.

Lead me by your truth and teach me,

for you are the God who saves me.

All day long I put my hope in you. 

Remember, O LORD, your compassion and unfailing love,

which you have shown from long ages past.

Do not remember the rebellious sins of my youth.

Remember me in the light of your unfailing love,

for you are merciful, O LORD.

The LORD is good and does what is right;

he shows the proper path to those who go astray.

He leads the humble in doing right,

teaching them his way.

The LORD leads with unfailing love and faithfulness

all who keep his covenant and obey his commands."

Psalm 25:1-10, NLT

Somewhere on the internet this past week, I saw a little tidbit  about Frederick Buechner's 'last' book, one that he, one of the most popular Christian authors of the last 30 years, had a hard time getting published. To say I was stunned would be a very large understatement. So I promptly looked up the book (The Yellow Leaves: A Miscellany) and ordered a copy for myself. It was eventually published -- now fours years ago (!) -- and consists of remembrances, short essays, assorted bits and pieces from his long, literary life. I am loving it as I chew on a morsel or two each evening.

Here is a brief paragraph that grabbed me by the neck this past week and shook me pretty hard. It is part of a chapter entitled, "Bulletin Board," in which Buechner describes a variety of photographs scattered around his office, telling a brief story about each person pictured:

"Frank Tracy Griswold, presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church, is smiling benignly in his dog collar and steel-rimmed glasses, that strikingly intelligent, articulate, sweet-tempered man. He told me that once when he was taking a shower, he distinctly heard a voice from somewhere saying, 'Why do you take your sins so much more seriously than I do?' His first reaction was to burst into laughter. His second was to burst into tears."

All my life, I've been taught that my sins, and the sins of everyone else in this wide, wonderful world, are the reason that Jesus came in the flesh. The love of God was in there somewhere, but my own sin sort of took center stage in the teaching of my youth. So reading a small, explosive paragraph like this one sometimes stops me in my tracks. 

Then I read through the psalm for today, the first day of Advent - the first Sunday of Advent. And I remembered: the Psalmist, singing centuries before that Baby was born in the stable, the Psalmist sings about 'unfailing love,' about mercy, about God's gentle guidance in the way that is right and true. This song is about God pointing the way, pointing the right way. 

And I began to remember, to see, to celebrate that Jesus came to show us how: how to live in this world, how to die to this world, how to live forever. And showing us the way includes pointing out the sin that cripples and wounds us. It includes the shedding of precious blood and the rending of tender flesh that we might be healed. It includes learning to live in the center of God's goodness and grace and 'unfailing love.' 

Contrition is right and good and necessary. Repentance is right and good and necessary. But focusing exclusively on how terrible we are ultimately turns the whole wonderful story completely on its head. Love comes first. Forgiveness comes first. Desire for relationship and healing and wholeness - these are far more serious than our sin. And that is cause for wonder, cause even for joyous laughter.

And that is also, of course, cause for tears. Tears of gratitude, humility, and tender homage. Because that precious Baby came -- and that Glorious Savior will come -- for love's sake alone. Imagine that!

Point us in the right direction, Jesus. As we step into Advent this year, remind us where we fall short, yes, we need those reminders. But O LORD, whisper to us of love, sing to us of forgiveness, beckon us toward holy righteousness. Because YOU are righteous and because of Jesus, so are we. Thank you!

Small things... 2009 - Archive-Diving

In this long process of moving my blog (sometime early in the new year, most likely), I am digging into the archives and re-editing some draft posts that were never published. This one was written over three years ago, right after I sent an email, intended for just one person, and accidentally sent it to hundreds. Yes. I did that. And it felt pretty horrible. Thankfully, God is gracious and so are God's people and we all survived. I do not, however, recommend carelessness with email, or any other kind of correspondence. :>)  Maybe someone out there can empathize with these sentiments:

It's a funny thing about horizons. Depending on distance, objects can appear to be much smaller than they actually are.

30 foot fishing boats can appear to be no larger than a gnat when viewed from the shore. Sometimes life events are like that.

Things that seem like tiny errors can explode into potentially life-altering happenings in the blink of an eye.

Why is that? Perhaps because we live as fallen, broken people in a fallen, broken world. We are not perfect. We make mistakes, all the time.

We speak too quickly - and someone's feelings are hurt.

Our eyes miss a date on the calendar and we fail to keep an appointment that is crucial.

We get in a hurry and cut off a conversation too soon, just as important revelations are to be made.

We fill our brains with so much information that the truly important stuff gets crowded out by what has been termed the 'tyranny of the urgent.'

We don't take the extra 2 minutes to move from reaction to response when we're surprised or startled by something new, and we blurt things that should be stopped at the lips and eventually removed from the brain.

Lord, have mercy. We are your broken people, wanting to live in step with your sweet Spirit, but far too often missing the mark. Thank you for grace. Thank you for forgiveness. Thank you for the chance to start anew.

And save us from ourselves, please. We are far too often our own very worst enemies.

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 24

Yesterday was an amazing day.
Startling, sometimes confusing,
interesting and humbling.
In the middle of this 31-day blogging craziness,
I put up this small post to tell you about an essay 
I wrote over at A Deeper Church.
In that brief post, I also urged you to 
read my friend Emily's post in which 
she asked some questions about the very
topic I was speaking about right next door to her.
The comment thread, especially on her essay,
was pretty overwhelming.

But here is what I feel about it,
late this night,
after spending about 14 of the last 36 hours 
in the car, driving up and down this
magnificently beautiful state of ours:

I feel profoundly grateful.
And humble.
I would happily wash Emily's feet,
and I believe she would do the same for me.
And that? THAT is a beautiful thing.

I slept last night in a retreat center in Burlingame, CA,
run by the Sisters of Mercy.
Our meeting room there contained about a dozen
magnificent prints by a Japanese artist from the 20th century
named Sadao Watanabe.
I tried to take photos of them all,
but a few of them showed too much reflection from
the hideous (why oh why??) florescent lighting.
These two, however, are perfect.

Two different interpretations 

of the same seminal event

in the life and ministry of our Lord, 

     our Savior, 

          our Christ.

Jesus - the Son of God,

the Creator of the universe,

the only fully Human Being who ever walked

the dusty roads of this globe -

washing the feet of his disciples.

And then telling us to do the same for one another. 

THIS is who we are, dear friends. 

We are the ones who follow Jesus.

We are the ones who share in the bread and cup.

And we are the ones who wash one another's feet.
Whether we agree with one another on every doctrine or not.
Whether we work at home or outside the home.
Whether we homeschool our kids or send them to school
Whether we even like each other or not! 

We are the ones who wash each other's feet.

And that - 
     because Jesus did it,
          because Jesus 
               continues to do it through each of us - 

that is BEAUTY. 

Humbly joining with Michelle, Jen, Jennifer, Ann, Duane, and OF COURSE, Emily:

31 Days in which I am Saved by Beauty - Day 9

I have already written about this evening walking I do. 

This circle walking.

And circle praying.

Tonight I was a little distracted.

This is the season for the acorn drop,

and there are hundreds of them,

all over the paving stones of our driveway.

Can you see them in this picture?

The one below these words?

Earlier this fall, my grandgirl Gracie and I picked up a few,
and put them in a bowl on my china cabinet.
We don't usually see their small caps,
just the cylindrical bodies.
But this year, early in the dropping season,
we found a hundred or so that had their hats.

My husband believes that 
the number of acorns on the driveway
is a good predictor of how rainy it will be during 
the winter months here on the coast of California.
So far, he's been right. 

I think maybe we're in for it this year.

They're in every crevice, 
cracking underfoot as I turn circles,
round and round.
And when our cars drive over them,
they break open,
revealing the nutmeat inside.
Tonight, 
a small brown bird hopped out
from his hiding place under the
oleanders,
jumping into the space I had just left.
He began busily picking at the broken pieces.
When I'd get within about 15 feet of him,
he'd hop away into the bushes again.
He did this on almost all of my 36 circles this night. 

I like the crackling sound these acorns make as I walk.
That noise, these small objects - they remind me
that it is now fall,
even as the changing angle of the light
helps me remember that the seasons
are shifting.
We don't have a lot of other clues in 
central California, 
just these subtleties, these small things.
To me, they are beautiful
and evocative,
reminding me of how things
stay the same,
even as they are changing.

If I have planned well,
and begun my walking early enough,
I can finish my time outdoors
by sitting in this swing,
which hangs across the yard.
It's a beautiful spot,
sheltered under the oaks,
and the swing is strung up by sturdy chains,
wrapped around a large, twisting branch. 

If I have planned well,
I try to spend between ten and twenty minutes
in this swing,
centering,
focusing quietly on one or two words
from scripture.
I breathe carefully,
purposefully,
with awareness, trying to stay
in rhythm with both the words
and with the swing.
It always feels to me like I am
held.
Secure, cradled.

Even when the words are these:
"Mercy, Lord."
Which is what came to me tonight,
for a long list of reasons. 

I choose to believe that God hears and answers.
And even when I don't particularly like
the answers,
there is still mercy to be found. 
Selah.

31 Days in which I Am Saved by Beauty - Day 3

It is dark as I begin.

I am an owl, a night owl,

so this early morning darkness

feels strange to my skin.

Yet it invites discovery.

I sense a secret, 

waiting to be unwrapped.

I gently close my lodge-room door,

walk down the lighted hallway,

the one on the outside

of the building,

searching the downward pathways,

the ones that take me past the art studio,

the gallery,

the large covered pergola,

the tennis courts.

I am hunting the jogging track.

One quarter mile,

circling through the brush,

winding a bit,

decorated with deer scat,

yet carefully tended and groomed.

Like everything else in this place,

a welcoming thing.

Slowly, the morning sun

makes itself known,

and as I reach the halfway

point of round four,

I stop for a moment 

on a bench, perfectly placed.

And this is what I see.
The darkness is fully rent now,
no more flash required,
that flash on my small pocket camera, 
the one that bounced back
at me,
reflecting only
trunks and branches.

Now I can see through them
to the river below,
almost out of sight,
down the grade.
The river that flows easily,
gracefully,
gently.
It does so in the light,
but also,
it does so in the dark.

In the feeble, clouded light of day,

I can see the path itself,

all of it - 
the edges,
the surroundings,
the general direction of things.
And somehow, 
it feels more real,
more solid,
more purposeful.

Yet nothing has changed.
The river,
the path,
the trees -
all of them are there
in the light and in the dark.

But sometimes it takes being in the dark
to fully appreciate the light.
Sometimes what seems hidden
in the dark
is not really hidden at all,
only veiled beauty, waiting
to shimmer in the light of day.

And sometimes we have to walk
the path when we're not sure
where it is,
much less where it's going. 

Psssst. . . A Sneak Peek at Something Grand!

Have you ever had a dream?

A crazy, wild, hold-your-breath,

jump-off-a-cliff,

and-hope-and-pray-for-the-best

kind of dream?

One that you're pretty sure came from God,

but sorta scares you to death?

My friend Deidra Riggs had exactly that 

kind of dream . . .

and she is doing something about it.

Beginning October 1st,

Early-Bird registration will open

for a wonderfully-wild-and-wooly retreat designed

to encourage women of faith in the blogging world.

It will be held April 19-21, 2013 just outside of Omaha, Nebraska

This picture header from the new retreat website 

doesn't really fit on my blog page,

but I think it will give you an idea of some of the folks

who are going to be there.

And they're going to be there in order

to encourage all who come to dream big dreams.

If you'd like to take a peek at the website (currently under construction), just click on this sentence and head on over to look around!

As the website nears completion, here are some important details to keep in mind as you think and pray about attending. Details like - dates, cost, and a peek at the retreat center. Clicking on that sentence up there will let you read about the speakers/leaders and the Big Dream ideas that will be the thematic thread of our time together. I am excited! And I'm honored to be there as a Pastor-in-Residence. Any opportunity to become Real Life Community is a gift. And this one is a doozy.

1. Early bird registration will begin October 1 and run through October 6.
2. The retreat will take place April 19-21, 2013.
3. Early bird tickets will be $249 and will include a retreat pass, two nights lodging, and five meals.  
4. Regular price tickets (purchased after October 6) will be $299.
5. A day pass will also be available for those who may live nearby and choose not to stay at the retreat center. The cost for a day pass is $99 (early bird) and $139 (regular price)  and will include lunch and dinner on Saturday.
6. Ashland, NE is a 30-minute drive from the Omaha airport. We will provide a shuttle from the airport to the retreat center.
7. The retreat will be held at the Carol Joy Holling Conference and Retreat Center. Here's a link: http://www.cjhcenter.org/the-sjogren-center
8. Optional "Be Brave" activities will include the ropes course and zip line, under the supervision and direction of Retreat Center staff members. Participants can add this activity as one of their breakout sessions for an additional $10.
9. The event is designed to be casual, cozy, and small — we're planning for about 60 overnight participants, with a possibility of up to 100 total (including those who choose a day pass)

Backsliding - The TSP Book Club

It has been a very strange week.

Last week felt so full,

so productive,

so rewarding on lots of different levels.

And I began to see some connections between

those feelings and the work that we are doing

over at TweetSpeak Poetry as we plow our way through

"The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity,"

by Julia Cameron.

I began to think that the Rebellious Resistor

had left the building.

No such luck.

Apparently, it doesn't take much to discourage me.

Sigh.

I did manage to catch up with the reading,

skimming through the two chapters for this week.

But.

It was the end of last week's assignment,

the chapter on, "Recovering a Sense of Possibility,"

 that cut hard this time - 

and in many ways, I do believe,

inhibited my ability (willingness?) to move forward

through the muck with alacrity.

She said that working through the dang pages,

(otherwise known as The Morning Pages)

should lead us 'to treat ourselves more gently.'

She said that we are 'learning to give up idolatry.' 

She said that, "many of us have made a virtue

out of deprivation."

And the thread she drew through those three phrases

followed the needle right into my psyche.

"The Virtue Trap," she labeled it. 

And I wrote an all-caps, bright blue,"OUCH," next to that one. 

Because I know all about making nice.

I know all about martyrdom.

I know all about this one right here:

"Afraid to appear selfish, we lose our self."

And I have done a whole lot of inner work around these issues. 

I've studied the Enneagram and realized that I am a #2 - The Helper.

I once said through tears that I never would have answered

God's call on my life to be a pastor if my husband hadn't made enough money so that my schooling would not be a sacrifice for anyone in my family.

I know this crap.

Yet, I resist the dang pages.

(So I won't be more gentle with myself?)

I still have to fight the urge to put my closest human relationships before my relationship with God.

(So I won't have to learn more about trusting the only True God?)

 I fall too easily into the trap of the false self, the one that

'is always patient, always willing to defer its needs 

to meet the needs or demands of another.'

(So I won't have to risk being who I truly am?)

I'm not sure I know the answers to these queries.

I'm not even sure I like the queries, to tell you the truth.

Finding my way to truth with a capital "T" is an ongoing process, 

one that requires me to be ruthlessly honest with myself, 

to be ruthlessly honest with God,

to be willing to say,

"I need some time alone - maybe a lot of it,"

even if it makes the people I love unhappy -

well...

this is no small thing.

No. It is not.

At this end of a very 'dry' week creatively,

I am wrestling with what's going on inside me.

I am wondering how to cut through the noise and hear the Voice. 

I am feeling the need to cultivate a sense of possibility. 

 

Joining this strange set of musings with TSP and Lyla and the gang who are reading along. I think tomorrow is the last family graduation for a while (Gracie passed kindergarden!) and there are no scheduled drives south for about a week,

so maybe I can carve out the time I need to breathe, think, pray and create.

Anything is possible, right?

Do you see this 'ts' right here? That is all that shows itself on my blog when I paste in a copy of the TSPoetry Book Club button. Here in the draft version, I can see the full HTML tag. On the blog itself? Only the 'ts.' Weird, right?