O Come, O Come

Between working from home, basic hygiene, nourishment needs, relational needs, the holidays, oh...being pregnant, a one-year old, volunteering…yeah, I don’t seem to have time for my writing luxury these days. I have missed you all! Thanks for being patient and following along these ponderings with me. True-to-life is the nature of them, so true-to-life is the nature of their frequency as well, I suppose. Well, enough ado. O Come, O Come…

You may notice the title post as the beginning to familiar Christmas hymn O Come, O Come Emmanuel.  During the season of advent our church sings this as the opening hymn every week. It is good reason to get out the door on time! It moves me every week, by Saturday midday I find my soul beginning to salivate for the processional when the crucifix moves by followed by the a cappella voices raising this praise. If you have ever heard this song, particularly live, however, you may recall the somber tone is carries. It is deep and guttural at points. Half of the words in the third line are “mourns”, “lonely”, and “exile”...yet the refrain every time:  “Rejoice! Rejoice!...” The range of emotions in this song captures the way I feel this advent season.

  The first Sunday of advent I was moved to tears during this song; I had caught the eye of an older friend in our church. After years of a good battle, now in hospice, she was attending church pushed in a wheelchair by her husband.  The beauty deep within her eyes has always captured me, it did that morning as well.

We sang:

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear

Captive. Mourning. Lonely…Words apt for the pain one must feel in such a place terminal waiting.

By the second Sunday of advent I had spent the week praying for a family in our church who just delivered their stillborn daughter; she was just a bit older than Jonan when he was born.  Her mother birthed her on the same floor of the hospital I birthed Jonan.  My heart ached as I remember those walls, resounding with so many tears…generally that of newborns. But not that day.  As we sang that second week the words pierced deeper still:

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan's tyranny
From depths of Hell Thy people save
And give them victory o'er the grave

Satan’s tyranny. Depths of Hell. The grave. Yeah, that fits when one finds that grave too soon. And if we are really honest, doesn’t that feel like all whose graves we visit? Never is there enough time. Our hearts ache for more. Always more.  Free thine own, we sing…give them victory o’er the grave. As I have written before, this is either great naïveté, master delusion, or it is real Hope.

The third week of advent, this last Sunday, even the drive to church felt like my heart of just ounces was carrying the tonnage of the van I was driving.  My dear friend’s father passed away as she arrived at the airport, hopeful exchange final words with him. So long since they had been face to face. News to break one’s heart. Then, the next day:

Newtown, Connecticut.

Friday I watched the unfolding story. Restless sleep, awake praying for families desperate for a time machine. Saturday I checked in for updates.  Tears I couldn’t withhold. God, now? Families forever marking their holidays with tragedy? It’s gruesome. Bloody. Sick. Angering. Incomprehensible. And I knew I would have to sing that song again that Sunday.

And we did:

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.

Death’s dark shadows. Ugh. Dark, gloomy, clouds of night. Yeah, that might scratch the surface for these families.  Cheer hardly seems to be on the agenda for their future, as I imagine they fear.

But every time, every verse…Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel. The writer holds little back to the misery we all have known in our lives in one way or another. And in our human scales we could say some have known it more than others. But we all know…pain is pain is pain. It pulls us inward, it breaks us fresh, is causes us to question so many things. The interesting part of pain is when it is not us, we sort of want to shield it and keep our happy lives, our happy lives. It is uncomfortable to turn on the television to aerial photos of law enforcement surrounding an elementary school reminding us that even if our little worlds feels good today….all the world is not good today. And when it is our little world struck with pain, it becomes easier to be self-righteous in our pain. All these happy people, they don’t know pain like I know pain.  

Pain is not easy to deal with, and even more difficult around this time of year.  Our culture offers little in this way. Remembering is meant to bring someone close, in a sense, like we do with the Eucharist, Do This In Remembrance of Me, but by the very act of remembering we must face the reality that we have to remember…because they are not here with us. Then we come to a song like this. Like many of the Christmas songs we sing on the radio or in a group somewhere yet miss the depth of meaning for the familiar tune. This song captures the heart of a God who knows, a God who will (and now has) enter our pain. A God who, amazingly, not only wants to free us from captivity…but IS ABLE free us from captivity.  The captivity of death, pain, sin toward one another, toward ourselves, apathy, hatred, gluttony, sloth, oh the list goes on. This is not another god we cannot simply be content with as one god among many…depending on your personal choices because basically all the gods people follow are the same.  I hesitate to sounds so brash, but, my friend, they.are.not.the.same. They are not the same and even a brief comparison reveals this. Find a song like this one about any other God. That contains any historical facts within it at all. And let me know what you find. Find a god that came among us, helpless as a newborn, yet triumphant as a King, able to bridge the great divide of a chasm that (still, at times) feels un-bridge-able. But this little King, He is able. This God who came near. Emmanuel. And he offers us a place for all the tragedy and all the pain and all the good and all the confusion to come together. He gives us a Narrative that explains it all. No, it doesn’t wrap it all with a nice bow, but it does help make sense of the senseless in a time when we seek understanding.

But lest we think this God does not understand pain. Or this is a God that calls us to forget our pain because there is something greater, please, think again. How can the Man of Sorrows also be the one for whom we sing “Rejoice! Rejoice!...”? It is one of those dichotomies of this Kingdom of God’s. Paul writes in 1Thessalonians 4:13 “we do not grieve like…[those] who have no hope.” Too many Believers have used this to abuse those who grieve. They offer meaningless quips of “comfort” that diminish real pain for a “hope” that supposedly causes us to forget that we have real hearts on earth that ache in real ways. One author puts it this way, referencing the verse above:

Paul…was reassuring us that the sorrow we experience in this world is mingled with the solid hope that sorrow won’t have the last word. Somewhere along the line, however, his words have also come to mean that, in some sense, we sorrow less than others. Somehow, because of our hope, we are supposed to rise above our losses. Some believe it is a sign of spiritual maturity not to burst into loud sobs at a funeral or to lose sleep over the plight of [those oppressed] in the world. We should smile bravely, hold our heads up high, and show the world the difference faith makes in the face of grief.

I think, instead, perhaps the difference between how we and the world sorrow is that we sorrow more, not less, and in our sorrowing we are entering in some mysterious way into God’s sorrow. We grieve individual losses, estrangements, prodigals, broken-down lives, the shattered dreams; he grieves a world of losses, a world of shattered dreams…His is the distress of a master craftsman over a masterpiece destroyed- for the way things are is not the way he meant them to be. As we grow in likeness to Jesus, we will be gripped by the same sorrow over what is wrong in this world and over our part in it, and we too will weep.

She continues on…

…But God didn’t give up on his vision. Instead of washing his hands of us, God pursued, and continues to pursue…Trillion dollar bailouts to rescue a flagging economy are nothing next to what God has expended to recover [us]. God himself is leading the rescue effort.

I won’t attempt to add much to her eloquently stated words. That scripture above does not stop at “we do not grieve” but goes on… “as those who have no hope”. So I offer in this pondering that if you are grieving, your loss or for another’s loss, and it seems ill-fitting in this advent season…it is not. This is the season that marks our safety to grieve in the arms of a God who came to us. A God who knew our pains before any of us were even conceived. And for those who have lost their loved ones, their parents, friends, babies…let’s remember together that the oft quoted “spirit of Christmas” is not believing in Santa, angels, or some sort of “magic”, but it is the spirit of Christ. And only in Him is there space for all of us who grieve and all of us who are joyful. There is room.

The song continues:

O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.

Home. Make safe. Close the path to misery. Not many dispute the longing for these things. Too many furry about this season, souls’ ablaze with confusion and restlessness seeking to create magic for someone or missing a magic that they once knew.  Let’s instead seek what the Magi sought… Emmanuel, the one and only God With Us.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

Days 5 through 9

14. So being out of town for the weekend visiting friends gave me the chance to simply enjoy life and get my mind off all the daily tasks. I was simply living joy and enjoy moment by moment…it was wonderful!  I am going to count simply living as my joyful gratitude for Days 5-8. The Spirit of the Law, right? J

Day 9

15. Having my first official day of “work”

16. Watching Elsa’s pure enjoyment as she watched a video of herself around 3 months. She could hardly contain her excitement. It was SO cute!

17. Continually sharing this video with friends and family. Enjoy J

18. Having dinner with a wonderful friend this evening.
19. Elsa's soft little fingers rubbing my face as I nurse her to sleep. 

Day 2 - Day 3 - Day 4

Day 2

6. Colorful leaves having fallen all over my car when I went to go somewhere in the morning

7. Elsa falling from standing, though gently, and rolling to her back with a look of I am about to cry, but I start laughing because it is so funny…and so does she!

Day 3

I awoke this morning with that immediate feeling I sometimes get when the baby monitor is already blowing up with sound and I am still tired, body and spirit rather unwilling. Then flashes through my mind the remembrance…I have to find three things today! Body and spirit move and inkling more toward willing than the second prior and I find the strength to rise.

8. That overwhelming smile of hers when I walk into the room to get her after a nap

9. Still sitting on my lap after 8 books

10. Being especially affirmed of some particular skills I am working on

Day 4

11. Finding the energy to make a yummy pumpkin roll

12. Elsa saying “Uh-Oh” for the first time at the right time!

13. Finding the song by Elizabeth Mitchell called “So glad I’m here” while in the kitchen cooking with Elsa playing on the floor (you should look this one up! She is a children's folk type singer)

Day 1

1.  Placing pumpkins and other fall décor all over my home

2.  Receiving a magazine in the mail highlighting the top 50 influential Christian women

3.  Finalizing a job offer for me doing editing from home! Woooo!

4.  A bright tree ablaze with orange only a glances distance from my window

5.  A morning to write on my blog while Elsa slept tight

      

       So today was pretty easy, so much just handed to me to be thankful for! I did 5 instead of 3 J

31 Days

As I look at this blank screen to begin writing I feel the little inkling of terror a writer faces when they look at another blank page. Yes, the page is fresh and ready for creative prose, poems, stories, or whatever, but it can also hold that tad of intimidation. The wide open white speaks of something yet to come, a creation yet to be seen or invented, oh, and therein lays all the fun! It’s sort of like being young, for many, at least. There is the energy, the idealism, the possibilities. The thought that I could possibly do something with my life that really matters, that really affects history, that matters to real people’s everyday lives.

For lots of people (many? most?) I am sad to report, those dreams get lost in life. Lost in disappointment; lost in pain; lost in disillusionment; lost in plain ol’ doldrums. And I understand how that can happen. I know what it is like to receive one blow after another. I know what it is to be painfully betrayed, to visit the grave, to lose the job, to watch the dream literally fall apart right as you thought it was being realized, to be shut down by those who actually do love you. And I have been devastated by my own ability to do the same to those I love. Right now, I know what it is to feel like survival from one moment to the next is the best hope for my day.

As I have written before, there is a season for everything. Not all seasons are for world-changing just as not all seasons are for only menial tasks. In the midst of my current state-of-survival I am searching for something more. Something, well, a bit more live-giving. Something more God-like. I have allowed my survival state to snuff out joy and this disposition has blinded me to beauty, and ultimately, to God. Basically,

It has got to stop!

I am reminded of the Scripture verse is Matthew’s Gospel where Jesus is talking about worry. Here is an excerpt Matthew chapter 6:

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? 

And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin, Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you- you of little faith? So do not worry, saying "What shall we eat?" or "What shall we drink?" or "What shall we wear?" For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Now this is not an admonition to stop working and forget about real life, but an encouragement to set our hearts on something different than the daily grind…and the future daily grind that we may worry about. Jesus was not out-of-touch here; the last thing quoted here is him saying “each day has enough trouble of its own.” Boy, do I know that! But the part that strikes me most here is from verse 25:

“Is not life more important…”

I certainly have not being living as if this is true. I can get stuck in the rut of making life work is more important. This essentially equals me working hard to be sure all of life doesn’t fall apart. So my life becomes about survival, eating, cleaning, serving, etc. I have it upside down. The eating, the cleaning, the “making it all work”…these things are supposed to serve my life, my life is not supposed to be just about these things. I spend much of my time worrying about how it all will come together and miss life in the midst of it all.

And I am just plain sick of it. … Is not life more important?

Of course my days will still have food prep, laundry, bed-making, toilet scrubbing, but may they also have a life that is not bereft of gratitude and joy, missing the Source of all good things.

In order to help me do this I am joining in Ann Voskamp’s 31 Days to Crazy Joy. I have never done anything like this before but I have put links here for you to join if you would like. Or at least read about it and follow us who are seeking True Life in the midst of our days. This will go through all of October. My hope is to post each day the gifts I have found in my everyday life. This is stretch for me right now, so please pray with me and for me in this. Because really, is not life more important?

Here is the link to Ann's blog and the 31 Days to Crazy Joy, once I figure out how to make this more pretty, I will do so :) 

I don't want to go that deep.

I feel like I really liked Elsa up until about two weeks ago.

Recently, things have been challenging. Not so much because of the sleeping, the eating, or even the crawling…but because of the needing. She seems to fancy little else than me.  I can’t make reason to it, but perhaps now that she is mobile she likes the fact that she can “come get me” any time; perhaps she sees now that she truly is a different person than me and is adjusting to this reality; or perhaps she simply wants to be with me. She likes me. She needs me. And she is, as far as we can determine, a deeply wired extrovert (more on that another time). Not to negate the relational essence born within us all, we just think Elsa may have a hefty relational capacity.  

Last week was simply exhausting. I cannot make my breakfast without dodging around her little hands and feet begging for me to pick her up. She climbs up on my legs and screams. Many times I pick her up, but sometimes I just need to, oh, eat, brush my teeth, pee. Nothin’ fancy here, just regular life stuff.  It is difficult to determine what she wants and she is whinier than ever before. All this plus this inability to do (what feels like) anything is, frankly, starting to wear on me. I enjoy time alone to think, pray, read, write. I like to have a little, you know, s  p  a  c  e. I have relationships where I am vulnerable and honest…it’s not that I am not trying to hide; I merely desire space to disengage or engage to my comfort level whenever I want to... Is that so much to ask?

Apparently the answer is “yes.” And let me tell you, I have a rotten attitude about it. Rot-ten. No two ways about it. If you desire confirmation, please reference Jeff. He can certainly affirm this about me lately. He joyfully comes home last Friday evening for his weekend to a wife frustrated, angry and passing him a baby saying something about how going to work must feel like a vacation. No joy. No grace. And certainly, no dinner.  Just hear about my crummy day and somehow make me happy (though we all know this is a near impossible demand to meet with so much rotting from within).  We manage through the weekend. I sleep in both days with daddy-super-powers taking care of Elsa. By 9am on Sunday morning, I was up and ready to enjoy the day, meanwhile Jeff collapses on the bed after putting Elsa down for her nap. Something deep inside me felt vindicated. “It’s tough sh-t, isn’t it?” I say with a smile. “Uh-huh” rolls off his lips mingling with the drool as the drifts off to sleep. There’s just no other way to say it right now.

About two hours later we are sitting in church when Father Stewart gets up to preach.  He’s using that verse about children and the Kingdom of God. That one from Matthews Gospel in chapter 19 where Jesus says, “Let the children come to me, and do not stop them, for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.” With the Great Teacher Jesus being in town, many parents were bringing infants, toddlers, and probably older children to for Jesus to bless them (a very important thing in that culture). The disciples were none-too-happy about this. They were trying to keep them away. You can read above how Jesus responds.  This is not just a PR moment for Jesus. (If you read the whole of his Gospels, you may have gathered he isn’t much for PR anyhow.) What he is doing is living the Kingdom, and telling us how to do the same. These are not just cute, innocent children. The Kingdom of Heaven belongs to them. Whoa. That is a big statement. Weighty. A, hey, catch this, listen up, pay attention sort of statement. (Not to mention there is no mention of the innocence of children anywhere in Scripture, there is even mention to the opposite.) It is the openness, the desire, the I-trust-you-and-just-want-to-be-with-you childlikeness to which Jesus is pointing us. This, he says, this is essential to the Kingdom.

Great.  I am utterly guilty. I despise this very part of my daughter right now. When she screams, inwardly I do, too. So, I could hear this sermon and put my mind in an-okay-time-to-try-harder place at home. Knowing full well my attitude has not budged; I could merely feel the burden of obedience rather than the joy of submission.

But I won’t settle for this. I know this is a relationship with a Living God, not a “faith” to which I complacently offer my intellectual ascent.  

Ok, (my attitude begins to begrudgingly bloom)…what do you want to say to me here, God? Help me. Pick me up…

I get the sense within (not an audible voice) that the moments Elsa cries out for me…let those be moments for me to remember my own childlikeness. My own need for God.  To remember my soul really does cry out for the closeness of the Only God who ever came near.  I feel this challenge deep.

Now almost 24 hours since I have heard this call from the Spirit of a Very Near God, I find myself longing to submit. I cried as Jeff and I prayed last night…Oh God, help me see her, love her…like her. I have opportunity even as I type this…she is waking, she calling to me. She is breaking into my oh-so-precious space I call “my own.” But the call I need to remember that my life is not my own as I follow Christ. And that to be in the Kingdom is a call to go deeper than I want, on terms I don’t want to sign off on. Sometimes, I simply don’t want to be transformed at that deeper place. I wish to stay disengaged, aloof at my computer while she eats, reading a book on the ground while she plays. As I offer my will in submission to the One who is bringing the Kingdom of Heaven here on Earth, I find I am moving, ironically, into childlikeness…and away from childishness.

Oh, God have mercy on me.

Where is it that God is asking you to replace your childish attitude with a childlike heart? 

Summertime!

August here and I have not posted since June! This points to nothing other than a full summer of activity, family, friends, and visitors. Since my last post we have survived the highest  heat for any July on record; began eating from our CSA box (never a dull week); found a new farmers’ market with better prices than our previous (thank you Iryna!); welcomed a nephew (hi, Luther); and introduced a new tooth into the Pelletier household! Phew. In the cracks we have had three visitors, just as many trips to the dentist (…grrrr), and a couple trips to the city.

Despite all this, we still feel we are enjoying the slower pace of summertime sun. I have begun to write a lot more. Words unposted, but good for the soul. Jeff has begun to exercise(!), Elsa has begun to crawl (!!), and God, well, God remains ever-present. Emmanuel. The God with us. Oh, what a great truth, dwarfing all other realities we may try to construct. So, as I have been seeking to ever bring together the pieces of a life lived full and present… I seek to remember daily, sometimes hourly or more, Emmanuel: God with us. With me. With you.

To be fully present to all my summertime moments I must be fully present to the Maker of all such moments. Though I may sometimes coerce moments to make them more comfortable, pleasurable, easy experiences for me,  I then become un-present to them…seeking only to use the moments of my life, not be in them. So, this summer I have been trying to take-them-as-they-are. All moments. Being present to Emmanuel. So that life is not only God with us. As unendingly powerful and important as that is. But that my life can by Kimberly with God. Attentive and thankful.

I am most certainly a work-in-progress! Envy slithers into my soul without invitation, the god of easy takes me away from my daughter, the lust for emotional-satisfaction drives me and I extinguish intimacy with my husband. But Emmanuel. Emmanuel turns me back and sets soul right. So I turn toward Emmanuel and build and altar of thanks…becoming Kimberly with God in the heat of summer, being ever-refined, ever in need of refinement.

Thanks be to God for all the good things. Grieving the difficult along the way. And offering it all back up to Him for redemption.

Blessings to you all as this summer moves on. Seek Emmanuel. Because He is. God with us. 

And now for the picture collage...of course :)

First up:  A few CSA creations (Community Supported Agriculture, basically we pay a farmer in the winter months so he can grow food for us all summer/fall. We get a box of whatever he is growing every week from June-November. And we get no say in what is grown...that is the adventure part!)

Rice Noodly, peanut buttery, Bok Choy Creation (not our favorite)

Chicken salad with all things from the box. Walla walla onions are my new favorite onion.

Chicken stir fry with kolrabi

Homemade and canned dill pickles, cucumbers and dill from the CSA box :) Can't wait to try 'em out!

Bread 'n butter pickles made with local honey. Cucumbers from the CSA box and honey from our honey guy, Roger. 

Fresh lemonade on one of those grueling days, made with honey from Roger and a touch of stevia. 

Second up: cousins! So happy Elsa has great cousins to grow up with. That was one of the greatest parts of my childhood. Cousins.

Jeff pushing Elsa and cousin Ben during their visit in July. So much fun!

Elsa meeting Luther. She loves him, no surprise...we all do!

Luther Roland Birky fresh from the hand of God. Born July 26, 2012. 7lbs. 2 oz. 20 inches.  

             And Lastly, but need we say? Not least! Elsa Jenae. And need I remind you...her name means "joyful"?!

Out to lunch after church. She enjoyed her first lemon right after this...her face didn't look like this once she ate it. 

Early morning bath in the sink. Gotta have pictures like this for the wedding montage. 

And..pick-a-boo with papa while sitting in the highchair.
Life certainly is joyful. 

Labyrinth

(Written during our family retreat vacation)

I just returned from walking the Labyrinth here on the grounds of The Springs. Walking this ancient practice is meant to be a journey, spiritual and physical, to the center…the Cross of Christ. Emptying oneself of ambition and the concerns that fill daily life, one is simply to focus on Christ.  This can be done through meditating on a song, saying the Jesus Prayer, repeating one word or a verse. Whatever works to set one’s mind on Christ alone.

The first time I experienced this was seven years ago during my stay at The Cenacle, which is, sadly, no longer a retreat center.  Upon hearing the word Labyrinth I thought immediately of getting lost, scary movies I should not have seen as a kid, and big stone walls. Given that prejudice I was sufficiently underwhelmed. It is a walking labyrinth that is flush with the ground, leading to a center with a bench, cross, or some sort of icon that is to set our minds on Christ. No stone walls or dragons to be found.

The labyrinth I just walked was similar to that one I encountered several years ago.  However, rolling meadows lined with a tall forest, this labyrinth is snug up against a dense tree line. This beautiful backdrop notwithstanding, I had to venture back a ways through the many buzzing insects that swarm my head like flies on dung. Nothing prepares me for a deeply spiritual time like humid skin baking in hot sun with the cacophony of God’s most annoying invention seeking the rim of my inner ear.  By the time I reached the Labyrinth my hat was off, swatting about, and I am sure I appeared as if I was attempting some age old ritualistic dance of the gods. Let’s just say the bugs got the best of me.

Determined to walk this journey I stood at the threshold breathing deep, preparing myself for the slow amble toward the stone cross. I quickly realized that the bugs were going to be the distraction I was going to have to leave behind…though they would not leave me alone, I had to let them alone. I so wish my challenge had been something different.

But isn’t that our general sentiment when difficulty arrives at our threshold?  A different challenge, Lord, anything but this; this is too much.

I began on the journey, singing “Turn your eyes upon Jesus; Look full in His wonderful face. And the things of earth will grow strangely dim; in the light of His glory and grace.”  And old song I remember singing in church years ago. With no one around I sang aloud as I ambled along. Taking inventory of my journey I notice within a growing peace and, before long, realized I had only swatted once at the annoying inventions. I was calming within…singing, walking, nearing…

The shape of the Labyrinth makes it difficult to gauge how far one is from the center. Just about the moment I thought I had a quite a ways yet to go, I stepped around the corner that led directly to the cross.  I was there!  Unaware of the welling anticipation I was aptly surprised by my joy within. I stood there gazing at the knee-high stone cross…somehow towering over me. Not in shame, it is only the shame of those who refuse its Messiah. It towers with humble authority, knowing one day every knee will bow and every tongue confess the Truth of its message. Until that day it stands patient, yet fiercely seeking to extend its grace to those who have yet to confess.  Have you?

Wondering at my ability to lose focus even as I stood before it, I was humbled. I walked around it once, standing behind, beside, before…like Christ does with me now.  Reminding me of His ever-presence.

I marveled at the connections with the spiritual life. Walking between the stones on the path toward the Cross I came closer and further away as I neared the center, it’s simply the layout of a Labyrinth. It reminded me that even in my own spiritual life I feel sometimes nearer and sometimes further from Christ, as the ebb and flow of life goes, yet I am to continue to walk toward Him.  I should pay less mind to where I am, per se, and focus rather on Christ at the center.  Trusting His presence as the strength of my journey.  

Lately I have heard many friends talk of their struggles with guilt concerning prayer and the spiritual journey in general. I understand. But truth be told, this is utter self-focus. Certainly there are times when one needs to discipline themselves, mark a spiritual path to walk along, have an accountability friend, certainly. But there are also times to let go of how or if this or that is working according to what I am feeling and what I feel God may or may not feel about me this particular day in proportion to the strength of my disciplined self. We project our wandering hearts onto Him and receive feelings untrue. This tragedy of the spiritual life is nothing but the works of the Evil One. Lying, once again, as he did in that lush garden so long ago.  

If we held before us the reason we need the Cross in the first place we would not be so shocked at our wandering hearts. Let us not have too lofty a view of our sinful nature that we forget we need Him unending.  God, most certainly of all, is not shocked and remains responsive to repentance with grace sufficient.  When true guilt has been acknowledged, there is no place for shame.

So as I walked toward the Cross, singing to focus my soul, trying hard to not swat at the buzzing around me, I simply kept me heart on Him. Like the lines of the Labyrinth my heart came close and went far. But, you know what? That Cross never moved, and it never shut its gate. The threshold remained open, and still does.  

As with all pilgrimages one must return home to complete the journey. As I turned around to make my way out, I noticed, still, the presence of the Cross.  Its steadiness sent me on my way…for all true spirituality is lived out in daily life.

And as I neared the entrance, now become exit, I felt a bit sad. As I stepped out of the Labyrinth I turned around and saw it all still there, particularly the Cross...knowing its presence would daily be awaiting my surrender.  

I heard a small, soft voice:

Return often

Yes, Lord, I will.

 “Though my heart and flesh may fail, the Lord is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” 

–Psalm 73:26

Space: Cyber, Holy, or Otherwise

Utterly refreshing. Oh, how vacating regular life can offer such a great space for re-creation. This was our first time getting away since Elsa was born into our lives. We were tucked away in some rolling meadows of southern Indiana without cell service, internet, or cable…our kind of vacating! But before you get the idea that we were living primitively we did have a fully equipped cabin, a grill, hot tub, row boat, games, and the a couple of the best mentors we could have ever received into our lives.

We were at The Springs, a retreat center in Oldenburg, IN. If the abovementioned sounds like something you may ever need, personally, as a couple, or as a family, I highly recommend the 4 ½ hour journey from Chicago to this place of ministry. Spiritual direction is available, as well as two horses, a pond stocked with brim and bass, trails, and a walking Labyrinth (more on that in a coming post).  

As is often reported in places such as these, time slows…and eventually so does one’s inner world.  For some that may take hours, and for the higher strung amongst us…maybe a day or two. But the hard work of slowing it worth the stillness it brings. Creating space is something I have mentioned as a theme in other posts, and will likely visit again…this place is just that, a space created by others for you.

The difficult part is not necessarily the driving there or the unpacking or the preparing food for however many days you will stay…but the work of creating space.  This is work indeed. In our world space is a relatively costly commodity.  Purchasing land, whether developed or unadulterated, will cost you thousands if not hundreds of thousands of dollars. Capturing some cyberspace, will cost you as well, though not so dearly.  Filling the space in our homes takes creativity and cash to create the comfort you are looking for, whatever your style may be. Relational space can be cluttered with unspoken expectations, buried hurts, festering offenses.  There are people who can take up a lot of space in our soul (too much real estate, as I recently heard a friend say), maybe people past or present because of the relationship we had/have with them. We often refer to “clearing the air” when it comes to relational space…and depending on the pollutant level of said air this can cost us dearly in the form of trips to the therapist.  I am sure there are many other spaces I could come up with if I sat here for a while, but the most important space is the inner space…the space of the soul.

Though this may be a space less discussed in our world today, make no mistake that every marketer out there is well aware of the space in your soul…and they want some real estate. Billboards, commercials, magazines, internet ads…all things that take space in our soul without any consent from us. Without any consent. That is slightly frightening to me. Perhaps we don’t spend enough time considering the sheer amount of information that is constantly placed in front of us, and thus within us without our permission. They pay dearly for the dissemination of this information because they know they get real estate, whether we like it or not.

Now, not all marketing is evil, and not all for ill. Certainly some of the purchases I have made are because of marketing of one sort or another. But the important question is who gets all this real estate in my soul? Right now…this moment…  I am not asking who owns this space, I do. God-given and I have freedom to do with it what I will. What I am asking is who is building their empire on it? And how is that affecting my life is uncountable ways? These are good things to consider.

When it comes to the space of my soul I need to be the gatekeeper. But, you know, sometimes I am wearied and the gates just hangs open because I am too darn tired to either shut it or open it intentionally. Not just because I have a baby but because life can just get that way for any of us. Life just has its way of cluttering our souls. To seek a place where the clutter is removed is a great way to refresh this space. Creating space generally means getting rid of something. If you are going to create space in the kitchen to cook you have to move stuff off the countertops. Same for a workbench or the back seat of your car. But looking at that empty space can often cause a bit of a tremble inside. We become so used to it being filled it can be scary to create space without intention to fill it back up. But that is one call of the spiritual life…to create space. God can do the most amazing things within space. Remember Genesis?

We need not fear His creative power. He works good for us and in us. Maybe creating space means clearing room in the schedule. Maybe leaving the television off and allowing for awkward personal or relational space to shape into something new. Maybe it means creating that scary space for a relationship to heal. Maybe taking down some pictures and leaving some space in your imagination for something better. Or creating space in your home for guests.  For some, it means creating space in your stomach…filling it a bit less than usual, allowing the space to be filled with spiritual food.  It could mean sitting in front of a blank canvas again, or a blank page and filling the space creatively like you have not done in a while.  Maybe creating an empty space for yourself at a retreat center miles away from everything. The ways creating space only end with the creativity of God.

The quality of our lives depends on creating this space. As author Ann Voskamp posted a couple months ago on her blog “Who can expect to make sense of a loud world when they haven’t made quiet space for God?” And in directly considering internet use she writes “When one consistently chooses cyberspace over holy space – life becomes a hollow place.”  I can relate to both these statements.

The relieving thing is that we don’t have to worry about filling the space, or what will come once we create it. We simply obey by creating it. We are not the ones in charge of transforming that space in our souls. If we offer it in faith, we can fully trust God to do what He will. If you have never done something like this I highly recommend it. If you have and are thinking, oh, yes, I know God works like this…do it again. Try something new. Watch God’s creative power within you do more than you could ever imagine. And feel zero pressure to make it happen. Your work is to create space, however awkward or difficult or refreshing. Then let it be and see what comes.

This is exactly what this vacating regular life was for us as a family. We created some space away from lots of distractions.  And, as could be expected, the first day was full of relational discussions…how we were feeling about this or that. Hurts that we had not had time (…or space) to share. More emotion than would probably arise had we chosen to vacation with lots of noise and distractions. But we greeted it hospitably and worked through it. What may initially come out of space may not be beautiful, but if we are faithful to pay attention to it, offering it gently to God and be willing to lean into it, we can eventually expect the cleansing of that space. We must remember that what resides within the soul can be sheepish, and if we speak too brashly to each other’s space it will retreat until further notice (cluttering, yet again, our relational space and our soul space). So we created hospitality of soul in our space which led to some beautiful conversations and deep, fulfilling times of connection.  We played games, took walks, took pictures, made our baby giggle, prayed, read…all true re-creation…without all the expense and exhaustion of what some deem recreation.

I am so thankful for a place like The Springs, and I highly encourage you to check it out! Tomorrow I will be posting about my experience in the Labyrinth.