Someone loaned me the book, 'The Secret,' recently. It is based on the idea that if we envision what we want (instead of focusing on what we don't), then what we want will come to us. The Universe, supposedly, works that way. The author claims that this positive thinking is the secret in all major world religions, a secret 'they' don't want you to know.
It is seductive to think that if we imagine checks in the mail, they will appear.
Let me quote Mondi Bridges as she lay dying from cancer, talking with her husband, William. "This positive thinking stuff is crap," she said to me one evening as I sat on her hospital bed. "But then, so is negative thinking. They both cover up reality -- which is that we just don't know what is going to happen. That's the reality we have to live with. But it is easy to see why people take refuge in optimism or pessimism. They both give you and answer. But the truth is that we just don't know. What a hard truth that is!" (The Way of Transition, William Bridges, Da Capo Press, 2001)
Positive thinking aside, God does not promise us an easy road. Jesus's invitation is not to 'think positively' but to take up our cross daily, living as those who know that death is inevitable. Inevitable, but not final. We take up our cross daily, knowing that God is with us in the Valley of the Shadow as well as on the mountain of Transfiguration. Change will occur, whether we like it or not. Life will be filled with joy and pain, as well as many ordinary days somewhere between extremes. Thinking positively or negatively are quite beside the point.
Will we hang on with God, regardless? Isn't that faith? Continuing the conversation with God, even when it is a cry of agony or anger or blame? Walking with God, humbly, on high days and low roads, and every boring day in between. Noticing God's presence, learning, learning, always learning that God's grace is sufficient. Choosing to trust that, somehow, God is in the midst of it - with us - is not a secret. It is life.
All of these words don't make the valley easier, do they?
Monday, October 27, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Joying the Day
Have you noticed today how blue the sky is? Have you taken into your soul the flaming autumn trees as they brush against that infinite blue? Have you felt the brush of the fresh breeze on your skin? Have you allowed the sunshine to saturate your soul?
Have you turned off every human-made sound and let the silence have its way? Have you let what or whomever is around you convey God's presence?
Have you heard the voice of someone you love, the bark of a dog, the rush of traffic?
Have you smelled cinnamon or burning leaves?
Have you tasted something delicious and savored every bite?
Why not?
Have you turned off every human-made sound and let the silence have its way? Have you let what or whomever is around you convey God's presence?
Have you heard the voice of someone you love, the bark of a dog, the rush of traffic?
Have you smelled cinnamon or burning leaves?
Have you tasted something delicious and savored every bite?
Why not?
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Thoughts and Change
Last night in our Bible Study, God Views, we read this advice to perfectionists: Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly.
It made me laugh. Just try something, anything. Don't wait until you can do it perfectly, or exactly, just do something. That's is the polar opposite of my usual train of thought.
Our thoughts are powerful. It's no wonder Kathleen Norris, in her newest book Acedia and Me notes that the seven deadly sins used to be called the eight bad (or tempting, perhaps) thoughts. The earliest Christians who wrote about their lives spoke often of how to overcome these thoughts. Their writings describe internal struggle, and what treasure they had found in learning to marshall their thought-life toward God.
Today I was feeling very 'beaten' by a sinus infection, Randy being gone, some bad news from friends and a busy week to come. Sitting in my class at the hospital, I was challenged to think about what I want to be, instead of what I am not. Ponder that for a moment. The leader reminded us we need more time to think than we usually allow ourselves. "So sit in your chair, take deep, wonderful breaths, and think," she invited.
I thought of all things I want to be, and it was incredible to note the amount of energy that simply flooded through me when I stopped focusing on what I wasn't (feeling well, to start with) and started thinking about what I want (to be healthy, to start with). I honestly felt more awake, less sick, more hopeful.
While we don't control which thoughts float in and out of our consciousness, we do control which ones we allow to live there. That, I think, is where the power of Christ comes in. There is, quite simply, no way to send those thoughts packing without the power of Christ through the Holy Spirit. In Christ, however, we find it possible to simply notice all that is going on in our mind, and allow only what is Christly to stick around.
It's a pretty frightening time in our nation's economic history. All around us, people are losing their jobs, at least here in Elkhart. Older folks are putting off retirement out of necessity. Younger ones feel insecure. The election has brought out the usual nasty rhetoric. There is not a lot of hope amongst the masses.
I could focus on that. Or I could remember the value of Philippians 4:8 - 'Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable -- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy -- think about these things.'
How about this? From now on, I pray only positive. Instead of what I don't want, I will ask for what I do. Instead of noticing the failures, the stupidity, the negative, I'll give thanks for those things that lead me to my goal. A free country (isn't it awesome that we can have dialogs in public?); a prosperous community (isn't it so cool that we all have food on our table and there are so many generous people sharing their wealth?); a bright future (God promises when we pray he'll give us good things - bread, not stones).
Ok, it might sound corny to you. Still, why not? What is there, really, to lose? After all, anything worth doing is worth doing poorly! I want to be a person who works for God's good, bringing Christ near to others. I will let him train me to think and live in his Way. Who knows what he will make of me?
It made me laugh. Just try something, anything. Don't wait until you can do it perfectly, or exactly, just do something. That's is the polar opposite of my usual train of thought.
Our thoughts are powerful. It's no wonder Kathleen Norris, in her newest book Acedia and Me notes that the seven deadly sins used to be called the eight bad (or tempting, perhaps) thoughts. The earliest Christians who wrote about their lives spoke often of how to overcome these thoughts. Their writings describe internal struggle, and what treasure they had found in learning to marshall their thought-life toward God.
Today I was feeling very 'beaten' by a sinus infection, Randy being gone, some bad news from friends and a busy week to come. Sitting in my class at the hospital, I was challenged to think about what I want to be, instead of what I am not. Ponder that for a moment. The leader reminded us we need more time to think than we usually allow ourselves. "So sit in your chair, take deep, wonderful breaths, and think," she invited.
I thought of all things I want to be, and it was incredible to note the amount of energy that simply flooded through me when I stopped focusing on what I wasn't (feeling well, to start with) and started thinking about what I want (to be healthy, to start with). I honestly felt more awake, less sick, more hopeful.
While we don't control which thoughts float in and out of our consciousness, we do control which ones we allow to live there. That, I think, is where the power of Christ comes in. There is, quite simply, no way to send those thoughts packing without the power of Christ through the Holy Spirit. In Christ, however, we find it possible to simply notice all that is going on in our mind, and allow only what is Christly to stick around.
It's a pretty frightening time in our nation's economic history. All around us, people are losing their jobs, at least here in Elkhart. Older folks are putting off retirement out of necessity. Younger ones feel insecure. The election has brought out the usual nasty rhetoric. There is not a lot of hope amongst the masses.
I could focus on that. Or I could remember the value of Philippians 4:8 - 'Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable -- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy -- think about these things.'
How about this? From now on, I pray only positive. Instead of what I don't want, I will ask for what I do. Instead of noticing the failures, the stupidity, the negative, I'll give thanks for those things that lead me to my goal. A free country (isn't it awesome that we can have dialogs in public?); a prosperous community (isn't it so cool that we all have food on our table and there are so many generous people sharing their wealth?); a bright future (God promises when we pray he'll give us good things - bread, not stones).
Ok, it might sound corny to you. Still, why not? What is there, really, to lose? After all, anything worth doing is worth doing poorly! I want to be a person who works for God's good, bringing Christ near to others. I will let him train me to think and live in his Way. Who knows what he will make of me?
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Question and Answer
Answers. I like them. According to all tests, I'm a J on the Myers-Briggs, so I like decisions to be clear (and preferrably made quickly). I like to be right. I like to know the answers.
Only I don't think life is conducive to that, very often. One of my wise friends says to assume God is sending what we ask for or something better. My optimistic self wants to believe that, but then I think about the Jews and the Holocaust, and I wonder. No answers. Job didn't really get answers to his questions either. All he wanted was to have his day in God's court, I suppose to accuse God. What he got was God accusing him, nailing him with questions. Not answers.
Moses asks God how to tell the Israelites who God is. God just says "I am that I am." Not really an answer. We have turned that cryptic response into a name - Yahweh or Jehovah - but it's still not really clear, is it?
Why did the Levite chop his concubine into pieces? What were you thinking then, God? Were you behind that grisly effort? What was the reasoning behind Lot sending his daughters out to be raped instead of the heavenly visitor? Were you there with them?
How do I help the couple who comes to me, on disability, addicted to tobacco, $2000 behind in their rent? How do we work for the improved economy of Elkhart, what can you say to the thousands of people here who have no work and no prospects? What will happen when the unemployment runs out?
That doesn't even include cancer (something God created? a mutation? what purpose does it serve?) and child abuse.
My Jewish friend asks, "If Jesus was really the Messiah, why are people still dying? Don't you Christians think he conquered death?"
I don't have an answer - I am sure there is a theologically sound one, but it won't really answer him. He wants to SEE the resurrection, and I am no different. We both want answers. All we ever get is faith. All the Jews in the Holocaust got was faith. God just doesn't give us the answers we crave.
Jesus didn't answer a lot of questions; in fact, he asked more than he answered, just like God in Job. Jesus didn't solve his disciples' problems or end poverty in their lifetime, though some commentators say the Devil gave him a chance. A lot of Jesus's friends ended up with many more problems because they followed him. Some of them died for it. Answering questions, making it all make sense, doesn't seem very important to God.
Not trying to be depressing. It's just life. Sometimes, there aren't answers. Jesus just gave us himself, without answering a single question. Maybe that's the way to live without answers. Maybe that's the way God intends it to be.
I have no answer for that, either.
Only I don't think life is conducive to that, very often. One of my wise friends says to assume God is sending what we ask for or something better. My optimistic self wants to believe that, but then I think about the Jews and the Holocaust, and I wonder. No answers. Job didn't really get answers to his questions either. All he wanted was to have his day in God's court, I suppose to accuse God. What he got was God accusing him, nailing him with questions. Not answers.
Moses asks God how to tell the Israelites who God is. God just says "I am that I am." Not really an answer. We have turned that cryptic response into a name - Yahweh or Jehovah - but it's still not really clear, is it?
Why did the Levite chop his concubine into pieces? What were you thinking then, God? Were you behind that grisly effort? What was the reasoning behind Lot sending his daughters out to be raped instead of the heavenly visitor? Were you there with them?
How do I help the couple who comes to me, on disability, addicted to tobacco, $2000 behind in their rent? How do we work for the improved economy of Elkhart, what can you say to the thousands of people here who have no work and no prospects? What will happen when the unemployment runs out?
That doesn't even include cancer (something God created? a mutation? what purpose does it serve?) and child abuse.
My Jewish friend asks, "If Jesus was really the Messiah, why are people still dying? Don't you Christians think he conquered death?"
I don't have an answer - I am sure there is a theologically sound one, but it won't really answer him. He wants to SEE the resurrection, and I am no different. We both want answers. All we ever get is faith. All the Jews in the Holocaust got was faith. God just doesn't give us the answers we crave.
Jesus didn't answer a lot of questions; in fact, he asked more than he answered, just like God in Job. Jesus didn't solve his disciples' problems or end poverty in their lifetime, though some commentators say the Devil gave him a chance. A lot of Jesus's friends ended up with many more problems because they followed him. Some of them died for it. Answering questions, making it all make sense, doesn't seem very important to God.
Not trying to be depressing. It's just life. Sometimes, there aren't answers. Jesus just gave us himself, without answering a single question. Maybe that's the way to live without answers. Maybe that's the way God intends it to be.
I have no answer for that, either.
Friday, October 10, 2008
You Who Never Bore a Child
Sometimes, the old prophecies come true, right before our very eyes. Isaiah wrote millennia ago: "'Sing barren woman, you who never bore a child; burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor; because more are the children of the desolate woman than of her who has a husband,' says the LORD." (Isaiah 54:1).
I have 2 children to raise. Much of my time and energy goes to training, influencing, shaping, loving these 2. My friends who have no biological or adopted children, in contrast, have hundreds of children. One friend, a pastor, I have watched struggle with the reality that she would never bear a child. She wanted very much to marry, to raise a family. She wanted even more to please God, and his call on her life moved her in directions away from marriage and parenthood. It broke her heart for a time, and I grieved with her, even while I watched her pour out her life to help the youth in the church we served together.
Another, a missionary, is married but she and her husband have made a conscious choice not to have children. She has never shared with me those discussions. I don't know her heart. But I do know that hundreds of families are stronger, more secure, and more aware of God's love because of her work. She is able to serve in her mission with unreserved passion, because she does not have to hold some back for those who wait at home.
In Old Testament times, these women would have been considered cursed. Children were social security, they were future, they were signs of status and bonds to cement marriages. In many ways, they are all those things today. Some women so yearn for children that they do not feel whole without them. Others find marriages breaking under the weight of unrequited hope. I have counseled 'barren' women so sure that God has somehow cursed them for past mistakes and decisions that they feel utterly abandoned by God.
Yet Isaiah proclaims the opposite as he reassures the people of God and offers hope of a Messiah who will offer God's forgiveness, mercy and blessing. This may not be reassuring to the woman who sorrows for a child that never comes. Syncing our lives to what happens when it is not what we asked for is a surrender that doesn't come easily to anyone, let alone the woman who has convinced herself that God or her own past has cursed her life.
Isaiah's prophecy is an invitation to see things through the eyes of a Messiah yet to come, to envision a world turned on its head by the arrival of God's Chosen One. When I look through Jesus, I see my women friends have many more children than I could ever hope to raise. Nieces and nephews receive their love, grace and attention. Youth and adults where they serve are trained and influenced, enveloped in love and given a future.
To be sure, my so-called barren friends do not take children home with them at night (very often). No infant kicks them from the inside, or calls them 'Mama.' There is grief in that for those who long for it. I don't mean to belittle the desires and hopes that life sometimes dashes for us, though I pray that those who bear heavy senses of cursedness will find their hearts and minds lifted by truth.
As Christians, let's celebrate these 'barren' women of God! Let's thank them for their ministries, let's be sure they don't lack for thanks and hugs and smiles and friends. Though Isaiah's words are metaphor, they are also very real and true. Children do not make women blessed. God does, and all too often, his blessings flow through women who offer God their desires, their present and future, their time and energy to bless the world.
I have 2 children to raise. Much of my time and energy goes to training, influencing, shaping, loving these 2. My friends who have no biological or adopted children, in contrast, have hundreds of children. One friend, a pastor, I have watched struggle with the reality that she would never bear a child. She wanted very much to marry, to raise a family. She wanted even more to please God, and his call on her life moved her in directions away from marriage and parenthood. It broke her heart for a time, and I grieved with her, even while I watched her pour out her life to help the youth in the church we served together.
Another, a missionary, is married but she and her husband have made a conscious choice not to have children. She has never shared with me those discussions. I don't know her heart. But I do know that hundreds of families are stronger, more secure, and more aware of God's love because of her work. She is able to serve in her mission with unreserved passion, because she does not have to hold some back for those who wait at home.
In Old Testament times, these women would have been considered cursed. Children were social security, they were future, they were signs of status and bonds to cement marriages. In many ways, they are all those things today. Some women so yearn for children that they do not feel whole without them. Others find marriages breaking under the weight of unrequited hope. I have counseled 'barren' women so sure that God has somehow cursed them for past mistakes and decisions that they feel utterly abandoned by God.
Yet Isaiah proclaims the opposite as he reassures the people of God and offers hope of a Messiah who will offer God's forgiveness, mercy and blessing. This may not be reassuring to the woman who sorrows for a child that never comes. Syncing our lives to what happens when it is not what we asked for is a surrender that doesn't come easily to anyone, let alone the woman who has convinced herself that God or her own past has cursed her life.
Isaiah's prophecy is an invitation to see things through the eyes of a Messiah yet to come, to envision a world turned on its head by the arrival of God's Chosen One. When I look through Jesus, I see my women friends have many more children than I could ever hope to raise. Nieces and nephews receive their love, grace and attention. Youth and adults where they serve are trained and influenced, enveloped in love and given a future.
To be sure, my so-called barren friends do not take children home with them at night (very often). No infant kicks them from the inside, or calls them 'Mama.' There is grief in that for those who long for it. I don't mean to belittle the desires and hopes that life sometimes dashes for us, though I pray that those who bear heavy senses of cursedness will find their hearts and minds lifted by truth.
As Christians, let's celebrate these 'barren' women of God! Let's thank them for their ministries, let's be sure they don't lack for thanks and hugs and smiles and friends. Though Isaiah's words are metaphor, they are also very real and true. Children do not make women blessed. God does, and all too often, his blessings flow through women who offer God their desires, their present and future, their time and energy to bless the world.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Good Day
These are the golden days, I know. Quiet Saturdays, sleeping in. First frost sparkling in the morning sun. Maia up early to watch TV, James asleep on the bedroom floor (that's another story!). Kitty curled up in her place. Randy stretched out in blissful unawareness.
These are the golden days. It won't be long before band contests and sports and school activities wake us early for long days on the run or the road. All too soon, friends and social events trump family most of the time. My friend Kim reminds me, as she sends her oldest off to college, that the day of separation comes sooner than later.
We are all four healthy, and we are here. So this morning, I'm delighting in the gift of a golden day.
These are the golden days. It won't be long before band contests and sports and school activities wake us early for long days on the run or the road. All too soon, friends and social events trump family most of the time. My friend Kim reminds me, as she sends her oldest off to college, that the day of separation comes sooner than later.
We are all four healthy, and we are here. So this morning, I'm delighting in the gift of a golden day.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
I've been thinking a lot about church. Well, duh, I work in a church. But seriously, someone asked me this week if I thought someone can be a Christian without being part of a church.
That is hard for me to answer. I could go all theological, I suppose. I'd rather tell you a story.
When I was 3 weeks old, my parents brought me to Star City Methodist Church to be baptized. Throughout my childhood, we were there almost every Sunday. Sunday School, Vacation Bible School, youth ministry, camping, music - all that made up a huge part of my life. Now, there were weeks, as a teenager, when my friends and I would skip Sunday School and go down to Groom's Drugstore for a vanilla coke. For me, that was church too, slipping past our parents, hanging with my friends. We knew we'd only get away with it for a week or so before our dads pulled in the reigns, but the week was glorious.
At Star City, I played guitar and organ, I sang, I helped with the little kids. There, I learned that part of being Christian is loving some pretty nutty people, and that you don't just walk away from people because you don't like them. My gifts, imperfect and unformed, were welcomed. My time was useful. I mattered, but no more nor less than anyone else.
In many places in my life, I did not feel that same message. Awkward, stubborn, overweight, introverted, mostly scared most of the time, posturing to cover how awful I felt - that was my life. But church? They loved me, they corrected me, they treated me like someone. They were Jesus to me, and they helped me become less awkward, less stubborn, more whole, definitely loved.
Christ, through his church, saved me. When I was an anxious single schoolteacher, the church became my haven and provided me a motley crew of friends. When our daughters died, it was the church that brought us meals and let us cry on their shoulders. The church has brought Jesus closer to me at more times than any other single thing. The church has made me who I am, helped me become more than I ever would have been without it.
So, how could I not believe Church is crucial (pun intended) to being a Christian? I know that some people have negative experiences at church, heart-breaking events that push them farther from God. Their experience of Christ's body has led them to hope and pray that being part of the Church is not necessary for them to follow Jesus. I don't judge that. I can only say what I know. For me, the Church - the people of God - has been Jesus in significant ways.
Now, we may want to debate the necessity of attending worship. Or serving. Or learning. But the church? Jesus saved me through his People. How could I want any less for anyone else?
That is hard for me to answer. I could go all theological, I suppose. I'd rather tell you a story.
When I was 3 weeks old, my parents brought me to Star City Methodist Church to be baptized. Throughout my childhood, we were there almost every Sunday. Sunday School, Vacation Bible School, youth ministry, camping, music - all that made up a huge part of my life. Now, there were weeks, as a teenager, when my friends and I would skip Sunday School and go down to Groom's Drugstore for a vanilla coke. For me, that was church too, slipping past our parents, hanging with my friends. We knew we'd only get away with it for a week or so before our dads pulled in the reigns, but the week was glorious.
At Star City, I played guitar and organ, I sang, I helped with the little kids. There, I learned that part of being Christian is loving some pretty nutty people, and that you don't just walk away from people because you don't like them. My gifts, imperfect and unformed, were welcomed. My time was useful. I mattered, but no more nor less than anyone else.
In many places in my life, I did not feel that same message. Awkward, stubborn, overweight, introverted, mostly scared most of the time, posturing to cover how awful I felt - that was my life. But church? They loved me, they corrected me, they treated me like someone. They were Jesus to me, and they helped me become less awkward, less stubborn, more whole, definitely loved.
Christ, through his church, saved me. When I was an anxious single schoolteacher, the church became my haven and provided me a motley crew of friends. When our daughters died, it was the church that brought us meals and let us cry on their shoulders. The church has brought Jesus closer to me at more times than any other single thing. The church has made me who I am, helped me become more than I ever would have been without it.
So, how could I not believe Church is crucial (pun intended) to being a Christian? I know that some people have negative experiences at church, heart-breaking events that push them farther from God. Their experience of Christ's body has led them to hope and pray that being part of the Church is not necessary for them to follow Jesus. I don't judge that. I can only say what I know. For me, the Church - the people of God - has been Jesus in significant ways.
Now, we may want to debate the necessity of attending worship. Or serving. Or learning. But the church? Jesus saved me through his People. How could I want any less for anyone else?
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