Hope through prayer and action

My husband and I help teach the kids of our local congregation almost every week. We (rather he) teaches Sunday School Preschool every Sunday we are there. But for the last two weeks he hasn't been in town or has been ill, which left me to teach them. Following our pastors human development stages we focus on stories for the preschoolers. Phil choose to read through 1 and 2 Kings with the kids, having PlayMobil act out the verses then have the kids retell it - so we know they heard the story. He doesn't moralize, he rarely paraphrases - he just reads God's Word and let's the children hear and interpret as they will. If they get the retelling wrong, we will go over it again to ensure that they are not wrongly hearing. That is especially crucial in these books of wars, violence and prophets. It's been really fun, teaching the kids and hoping that some part of them remembers these stories. As adults we've been blown away by the stories, having our own faith shaken and strengthen sometimes at the same time.

Well the week I was supposed to lead I had 2 Kings 6. Beautiful stories! God's caring of the ax head of the servant of Elisha, and then miraculous action leading to the ultimate hospitality of one's enemy! Great stories, and so I read ahead to see if I could add a third story for the children, but as I read I decided to leave this difficult passage to my beloved.

28 And the king asked her, “What is your trouble?” She answered, “This woman said to me, ‘Give your son, that we may eat him today, and we will eat my son tomorrow.’ 29 So we boiled my son and ate him. And on the next day I said to her, ‘Give your son, that we may eat him.’ But she has hidden her son.” 30 When the king heard the words of the woman, he tore his clothes—now he was passing by on the wall—and the people looked, and behold, he had sackcloth beneath on his body.

My stomach ached, and my body hurt - the image burned into my mind. Having seen the 2014 movie Noah, where we saw this implied on screen. I felt like Noah in the streams of blood and violence and grew angry with God for His inaction.

Yet in the text there is no reference of prayer, or asking to be delivered from their enemies until this point. There is no longing for God until the worse has come, we've resorted to killing our children so we may live. Then in pain the king tears his clothes - but rather than turning to God, he also resorts to violence and seeks out Elisha, "May God do so to me and more also, if the head of Elisha the son of Shaphat remains on his shoulders today.” Rather than seeking the Lord himself, or even asking Elisha to bring salvation - he will take out his own inner hatred and pain for his people through this prophet.

The Lord (like He has in many other passages with Elisha) warns the prophet ahead of time that they are set to murder him. But when the messenger arrives he says "This trouble is from the Lord! Why should I wait for the Lord any longer?” If you read my previous post you will understand how much I relate to this. Why should I wait for the Lord? He is capable of acting, He has shown Himself time and time again but here in our most deepest of despair He is silent....

Then Elisha speaks of God's abundance, saying that this time tomorrow wheat and barley will be so abundant a whole bushel will sell for a few shekels. Then the captain, the right hand of the king speaks, "If the Lord himself should make windows in heaven, could this thing be?” He probably had firsthand experience of God's saving the king through Elisha's words but here he doubted. But it was not Elisha he doubted, it was God - His glory, His goodness, His capacity were in question and found wanting by the captain. So Elisha pronounced to him, "You shall see it with your own eyes, but you shall not eat of it.”

Then the scene switches, to four diseased men, the outcast thrown out of the city for their disease. They debated on action, to go in the city they'd be killed, but to sit they would starve so they risk going into the enemies camp and seek refuge.

5 So they arose at twilight to go to the camp of the Syrians. But when they came to the edge of the camp of the Syrians, behold, there was no one there. 6 For the Lord had made the army of the Syrians hear the sound of chariots and of horses, the sound of a great army, so that they said to one another, “Behold, the king of Israel has hired against us the kings of the Hittites and the kings of Egypt to come against us.” 7 So they fled away in the twilight and abandoned their tents, their horses, and their donkeys, leaving the camp as it was, and fled for their lives. 

Then the outcast ones, the rejects of the city began to eat and drink. They gathered linen, silver and gold from tent to tent, until they said to one another, "We are not doing right. This day is a day of good news. If we are silent and wait until the morning light, punishment will overtake us. Now therefore come; let us go and tell the king's household." They did not keep this good news to themselves, the salvation of the city was found and they went to share it though they had not been welcome into the city. When they came to the city the king doubted, but through persistence of his servants said risk five men and horses and the king did. When they found the camps empty the people came out and plundered and food was again in abundance. The captain was trampled by the people and died just as Elisha had said but the people were preserved.

Will I be the captain, unwilling to believe God's ability?
Will I be the king and not lower my face even in the midst of the people's utter loss, and instead respond in anger?
Or will I be like the messenger, throwing myself at the feet of the prophet confessing my doubt but willing to hear the truth?
Will we embrace the outcast, the diseased for through them our salvation may be found?
Will we be like the diseased and share the abundance of the Lord once we receive it, though we had been rejected?

“If the Lord himself should make windows in heaven, could such a thing be?"
Let me be like the messenger, the outcast, or like the prophet - let me doubt but doubt believing in hope, being honest with the Lord but trusting when He speaks through His people.

The one where we knew ourselves

I woke up from an "overwhelmed" nap.

Emotionally I'm much like a toddler. When I get overwhelmed I either scream and yell, having to have a short temper tantrum. Or I shut down and have to sleep, or rather I choose to sleep than face the sea in front of me. I don't have to sleep, but I shutdown and choose the soothing quiet of nothingness than face the overflow of confusion and feelings.

I said once I wanted to be a vet.
Then God broke in, and I wept - and I called myself a missionary to be.
In these years the call is what I've use define myself.
The utter entirety of my identity was wrapped in the calling of what will be, not what was presently.
I fell in deep like, questioned, and chose the call than another.
Instead of parties, I'd sit and pray.
Then the call hurt, I was rejected by those who are called the Body.
I ran towards another role that could fulfill, giving heart to country.
But in God's intervention I met my love and found the call again.
Marriage, birth, moves, college, and adulthood.
They smacked us in the face, and I wrestled - how would these fit?
Then seasons of Selah, and sense of knowing gave us direction and peace again - across the pond perhaps.
Yet I found myself somewhere else, in the structure of business.
I thrived, I died, I've wept, laughed, cursed, and loved it.
The chaos was addictive, the respect refreshing, and the growth tangible and real.
Being good at something and having others see it - well it's wonderful.
Where does that leave us now?
The call, the definition confusing....
Then a knock on my heart awoke me, pastor.
I ran with it, or so I thought, but when those who knew me best didn't believe neither did I.
I thrive here, but I hate here.
When looked at, when asked I can't answer who God even is.
When sought too, I can't even recite the most basic of truths - because I don't believe them here.
Maybe out there, perhaps in a world of theology, a place of worship, a life of ministry.
But here, in the nitty gritty, where people lie, cheat, die, and hurt us - where is He then?
When I don't know how to be a light, because I'm so pissed off at how things are going.
When I don't have enough energy to make it through the day, and yet I do because I love it - I just don't know.
When my best friend may never know God in the way she could,
When my best friend's body remains broken,
When my best friend's tongue still longs for unknown language...
I don't know.
Growing up doesn't look like anything I thought it would.
The problems don't go away, the linger...for days, months, years, decades...all of our life.
A God so great should be better.
A Creator so imaginative should know better.
A people in His image should see better.
But we don't and He doesn't...
And so when you ask me do I believe in God... Well in my own self no.
In your face, I have to.
In the tender look of our daughter, of course I do.
In the broken Body that gathers on Sunday morning - the Spirit resounds.
But Jesus, where is He? Why does He tarry?
You say believe, but I ask believe in what?
Believe in who? Why does He wait?!?!?!?!
I hear the responses in my head, "it's my interpretation", "He does act but not always how we want"...
A dozen other quips of honest and authentic faith.
But right now, in this moment I don't believe them.
I'm tired of waiting, my heart is sick of hope unfulfilled and honestly I don't care.
The faith isn't in the sign, but it reminds us that He is present.
So yes I'm angry, I'm lost and dang it I'm hurt.

I feel let down, washed up and forgotten.
I know my twenty five years are a cliche of crisis in this day,
But it's all I have, and it's all I've known.
I want to say His name with belief.
I want to sing with hope.
I want to believe.
But I just don't...
It hurts too much.

But in our hoping against hope,
like Abraham "In hope he believed against hope"
So as I dream tonight, and sleep from necessity of rest rather than running from pain,
Holy Spirit help me to hope.

I don't know

Maybe I don't know as well as I thought.

I know it's cliche,
You've heard it a thousand times.
A millenial standing here,
wondering what's real.

I don't doubt the skies,
though it's crashing in the night.
I don't doubt the writings,
for their comfort is tangible.

I don't doubt the Son,
for His name brought peace.
I don't the Spirit,
for She's moved my hard heart.
I don't doubt the Father,
for I know all Creation speaks the Creator.

But it's myself I'm beginning to doubt.
Maybe I don't know me at all.

This point of view,
This interpretation of things,
this state I'm in..
Maybe I don't see true,
Maybe my construct isn't faithful,
Maybe my being is askew.

So where do we go from here?
When the fragile pieces of our soul,
are left in a box held in our own hands?
We know the answer.
But is the water deep enough?

Can I jump into these waters?
Will I wade deep enough to drown into You?
The places I met You before leave me hollow now.
The words I've said before feel less faithful than silence.
The chaos surrounding numbing our hearts till we're overcome.
Will You bring in the waves of all You are?
Washing us away in the deepness of You.
Will You draw us in, letting all we are be expressed in You?
For no love is wider.
No justice farther,
No beauty more lasting,
No thought more creative,
No song more melodic,
No longing is left wanting in You.

For Your love is endless,
Your justice whole,
Your beauty engulfing,
Your very Word creates life,
Your song sustaining all we are,
And our heart's desire is made & found in You.

I don't know,
Don't know when I will.
But I'll keep moving forward,
Tumbling, falling, hurting, bruising along the way.
God keep my hands from hurting,
My words silenced when I feel like bruising.
Let me tumble, fumble and fall - but keep me from striking my brother,
Keep me from wounding my sister.
I need Your Holy Spirit to sustain me,
for I feel less and act more, or feel much and act little.
Jesus, keep me in line with all You are -
Cause my thoughts to wander towards Your direction.
And I will find peace.
I will one day yet know more faithfully than I know now.

A rant

What do I say....
Are there words adequate enough to express this turbulence? How life wasn't what I expected and I'm still gaining my sea legs. How we lose touch with each other, though we swore we'd never. How our daily talks are more like monthly phone tags. How it all seems to be crashing like the waves on the shore because family doesn't fit or work like I'd always seen. Perhaps I was blind then, I fear I'm blind now - will I ever see?
God do you even matter? What do you change? Do You make a difference? Because sometimes I wonder. Today when I'm angry, I doubt Your touch means anything at all. I know that it's foolish. And the night before I felt Your hand. But today's darkness blinds me.

God.
God.
God.
Each utterance of who You are speaks another part of who You are. Please change me. I know in my head, I need to know in all my being. In my veins, my heart, my voice, my spirit, my very core must reflect You.

My mom.
My dad.
My daughter.
My husband.
My sisters.
My brothers.
My in-laws.
My friends.

These, these chosen few that you've brought in my life and me into theirs - awaken me to be grace, to be light, to be Truth. Because honestly I suck. I suck the life rather than breathing life in. So help me God. I don't understand. I don't even know what to ask, but I'm wrong and You're the only one who is completely right so change me.