My Journey to the Promise Land - Circumcision.

Could it be?
This freedom you mention, is it accessible to me?
My body is worn and my heart torn.
Yet you say there is freedom in His name.

I was baptized by water, a sprinkle to show my parents love.
The heavens spoke, claiming all I am.
Years would run by, and I a child would run 'round as well.

I was overcome by the Holy Ghost, in an ordinary service.
With laughter & tears, God was near.
At the tender age of seven, the world was beginning to grow.

I was exposed, a darkness that would taint my very soul,
The enemy would try to consume all I was.
I'd be baptized again, this my choice in the waters of the Church.

I would sin, but what does a child know of fallen man?
Lies, confusion, and yet God would speak.
The Spirit would whisper, and carry me in the night terrors.

I was submerged in the Holy waters a time or two again,
to be certain of my Salvation to His Hand.
As a adolescence what does one know of certainty or trust?

I sat in the seats, wishing for my death, as I was dead inside.
The worship team playing, youth singin' along.
Yet the Holy Spirit came, baptizing me in fire, speaking a new tongue.

You spoke, so very often I could hear You speak.
My soul would fight, my very sin arguing with ihe Holy One.
The conflict in the mornings, and through the nights.
I doubted I would ever be whole, and longed for okay.
Yet You were so very present, wrapping me in Your Wings.
Speaking Your heart to me, and I speaking Yours to others.
We walked together, and I knew I was not alone.
But sin consumed me, and death was ever knocking.

I don't know when it was, when the storm subsided, and I'd breathe.
Was it in the morning, the night or a season?
There was certainty in my voice, a confidence in my stance.

I was a wife now, a mother too, a student, a worker, a daughter.
The many hats required a new type of strength.
So even in my lack of asking, the Spirit descended making me new.

I was strong enough, I was good enough now. I was all about me.
I would serve, I would work, I would love.
I knew enough, I was brave enough, I could make my dreams happen.

I built barracks around this heart. Declaring the walls fortified with faith.
But they were absent from a living God.
Rather it was a dead idol, a false image of God that I served.

I responded to Your call, in a Lenten night, You would speak.
In the mornings I would discover You.
The Spirit of God, a wind whirling around making my walls fall down.

I am back where I was before. Yet lacking faith, and so unsure.
After many years, I don't know my Father's voice.
The Spirit's whisper meshed within my own, and the uncertainty is back.

But You speak, and I can know.
At least that's what the pastor said.
That as I make myself vulnerable, You would circumcise my heart.
That the fight doesn't have to kill me,
In fact it doesn't have to live inside.

If this is true Spirit - I want it.
If it can be Father - please take me.
If this is true brother Jesus - show me the way.
Because I can't follow You, and follow me.
I can't love myself the most, and make space for You.
Because You demand everything, and all I am.
So come.
Oh please, please, come.
Circumcise this heart, I am renewing my covenant with You.
Teach me Your whisper again,
Let me trust my Father's voice,
and I will swim in these Holy Waters till my dying breath.

Intimacy - as inspired by Teddy Hart

I'm afraid to disappoint you.
In the reaching of my dreams, I may let you down.
But maybe you know that already. In the midst of our conversation you know I am going to disappoint you - like with Peter, you aren't angry just stating a fact. Yet you still say,  "come follow me even after you've let me down, come with me. In fact your failure is what you need to truly follow after me, away from your preconceived ideas. Your plans of success now gone you can know me and love me as I am - not just who you want me to be."

Help me follow you Jesus, to humbly ask "can I not fail you?" rather than proudly assume that I won't.
Precious Lord, help me let go and follow you. I may let down the world, and maybe even you, but you still call me to follow you. Help me Lord, for I long to love you like Peter did. I want to say that yes I do love you Lord, as we sit over your meal.

Thankful

This is a short account but necessary to relieve the pressure on my chest.

This is my Jordan, these words my stones, a hopeful marker of the work of the Lord. Clearing who I was to make way for what is to be, and through the rushing waters He holds back it's current to let me cross into the Promise Land.
Oh Lord let us walk with you into the Promise Land....

Wrestle rather than struggle

I woke and my heart was tired.
I arose and my feet were full of lead.
As we run through this life, I keep falling.
I thought I knew, but how ignorant I am.
What do I do, when all I have is you?

I wish more than life, to be whole.
For this brokenness to come to an end.
It runs in my dreams, and chases in my waking.
It's everywhere I look - my pride is my sin.
Consuming every part of who I am, and staining the joys of what is.

Perhaps it's not as bad as my dreams.
Yet my imagination more a destructive vice, than a creative breath.
Will You change my affections?
Form them into something beautiful?
Rather than the monstrous whore it has been, make my affections right.
I am willing to lay it all down and walk away.
But You say to stay .....
I am working in this moment, in this place. As your afflictions grow heavy, and you try to run from Me. Beloved just stay here with Me. There is nothing that can ruin My love for you - no one can take you from My grasp, even yourself.

So I will wait.
In this moment when my list grows long.
My obligations unending...
I will wait.
You are the King, to You my heart will bow.
Leave me not blessed One, I am not strong enough anymore do this on my own.
Forgive my pride, my presumption to be a god.

Draw me near to Your heart and I will be.
For this is pure religion, to take care of the orphans, to watch over the widows, and holding fast the poor of heart.

I will rest here, at Your heart, in the place it is hard to stand but where Your face is seen and Your hand at work. Hold me fast beloved Brother, model for me true love.

I will arise and face the day,
Not by my own strength,
But by His voice I will wake.
His eye is on the sparrow,
And I know He is watching over me....

Church - A Poetic Overture

As a daughter of the fringes I see others on the fringe and I long to bring them in; all I want to do is have them nestle in the bosom of the mother church.
It is His vehicle to bring the Light, but more over it is His Bride in which He reveals Himself like none other.
I desire to gather the fringes in, to be hidden in Her wings; wrapped in the warmth of her candlelight.
I remember entering her doorways, laying down the garments of the past. Taking off the coat of isolation, it's ragged sleeves with worn out holes would no longer allow the brutal winter wind to penetrate in to my very skin. Instead I would be offered a cloak of fellowship, of diversity, of hope - though it's shape would often be strange, and it's material not always comfortable, the warmth was unlike any other.

See I long to raise my kin in this place.
It is under the rafters of that cathedral,
In the pews of this steeple,
At the altar of the temple
that I long to bring the lost sons and daughter; for it is a safe and sacred place.

Please know my beloveds it is not always beautiful.
Community is messy, and sometimes downright hard.
You don't think like me, and I don't talk like you.
But we share a bond higher than our skin and bones,
and yet is in these broken bodies Christ finds His home.
So walk with me a while,
dredge through these muggy waters,
fight for understanding, and hold-fast to hope.
We may sing different harmonies,
but we are joining the same song.

A daughter of the fringes I may be,
But is in this place, this Church, that I am me.

Hearing Rightly

Five minutes into Dr. Chris Green's sermon about Becoming Christ's Body and I am convicted. While the sermon is focused on the community, I heard it yelling to me about hearing God -

"Just because we heard God, doesn't mean we hear rightly."

Dr. Green uses the example of Peter telling Jesus that 'God forbid the Messiah should be crucified'. While Peter was right since Jesus was the Messiah, he had his own imaginations interpreting the truth being spoken.

A couple months ago I heard the word "pastor" rolling around in my heart. Before I heard that word I was at a crossroads, an impasse in my call - I was finishing my first masters (in business of all things) and I didn't know where to go next. I was afraid of the darkness, the ambiguity of the spring - I needed hope, a purpose, a call.

I sought direction from my friends; they said wait. I went to lunches with elders; they said wait. But I knew I couldn't wait, especially being wasn't in my vocabulary. I am a doer; worth, reality and purpose are defined by what I accomplish. I couldn't simply live for the sake of living - I needed a step, a "to-do" list, I needed something more. In my desperation I attempted to put my purposes in "church" work, finding myself depressed after church on Sunday, and upset with the leadership because of how I felt. In response, I went to my pastor's office (which I talk more about in last month's reflection) and ended up crying in my desperation to be used, to give all I had to a mission, a purpose. Rather than taking advantage of my desire to do, or giving a quick fix - he asked me to meet with him and seek the Lord's will in my life.

It was shortly thereafter the word pastor began to roll around. When I confessed that desire, I was reaffirmed - beautifully so, my husband and by my pastor (even eventually by my Covenant Life Group). I felt I had found my purpose, my goal; my reason for living was on track again. You see, since I was 7 or 8 I've defined my entire being by the call. God's hand on my life, His mission purposed in my being was all I lived for, it was my entirety. But as time went on - marriage, birth, debt, school, and work - I lost that, my planned purpose of missionary had evolved to the point of not being there anymore. Stuck, but seeing the evidence of the Lord's work in maturing me, I wanted to find purpose again - preferably in a ministry label.

I don't think I can describe what it is like when you feel made for something. You can be born for it, formed for it, but the undertow of being made for a singular purpose is wrecking. Reading about a famous musician the other day they were told to not pursue music "because they wanted to, but because they had to". As an infant I was dedicated to the church and as the heavens opened my grandfather had a prophetic word saying I was being called to the Church of England - my parents stood in agreement. I wouldn't personally hear the call till I was 8, but even before then I remember intimately being aware of our Creator. He was there in the trees as I played with bugs; He was there in the dances of hallelujahs with my sisters. His hand held us as our car would teeter over the mountain's edge; He was there when my life would be opened to sin and stayed with me even in my darkest nights. It was in a church service where I felt called to be a missionary, and my mom would encourage me that I could be bi-vocational: a vet and a missionary. I bought books about Kenya, attempted to learn Swahili; history was my addiction, stories of missionaries and culture was my dream. Even in my playing pretend, my heart knew I had a purpose. In the nights that my sin would corrupt my soul, I would desire for my life to be gone but I knew God would restore me someday because I was called. A child not even yet a teen, I would hope I'd be preserved to live out this call.

Some of my happiest and most devastating moments have happened within the four walls of a local congregation. Moments of deep satisfaction and painful back-stabs have happened in the community of Christ. My husband is similar in his sentiment towards the Church - being born the son of a pastor he was always held within the arms of the Mother that is the Church. If the Old Testament Levitical order was still in existence today, my in-laws would have a quiverful of priests - as each of their sons are pursuing ministry. They are sons of the priesthood, and you can feel that radiating from my husband. He bears the burden of any congregation he attends, feels the spiritual journey as he looks around to the people. As a child he would feel that church was home, using the building for his own fun, and always being "in the know" about all of its activities. He was special, because he was the pastor's son - he was watched over, included, and church was a part of him. Then in the decision to marry me, move away, and pursue a different tradition, the local church no longer felt like home but a place of seclusion, and misunderstanding.

See I pursued the church, and my husband was often pursued by the church. I worked to earn my place in the Temple of God; my husband was born into the right. 

Oh God has a sense of humor, if in no other way than our strange combination! To some it may not seem like a big deal, but over 60% of our disagreements, 70% of our tears have been over this difference between us. But yet it is also our common bond - the Church, the ministry, the advancing of Christ's Kingdom is what has held us together, thrusting us forward towards the Spirit's call.

So "pastor" rolled around in my heart, and I assumed its meaning. I heard truth, and interpreted its meaning through my own imaginations. Thank you Dr. Green, for pointing that out - my husband had been trying for weeks to tell me that same thing, but I needed to hear it again for it to stick. I am called; I know that, I feel that; in some immature way I desperately need that feeling of calling. Till now my life has in so many ways depended on the way I heard and interpreted truth - but I want to hear the truth God spoke, interpreting through His imaginations, through His purposes. I believe this is done in community; it is accomplished in relationship with Yahweh, and with all the sons and daughters of God. My call cannot be separated from the Body, and I trust that the Spirit will guide me, speak to me and to those around me as we move forward into understanding the Person of Truth.

Thus this is my prayer: to trust in the Spirit to speak this call, rather than assume its form.

Love - A moment of discipleship

As a twenty-something I often reflect back on the past, wondering what brought me here, peering back to understand the present. In a cliche, millennial way I have found myself a bit disillusioned, feeling betrayed by the promise of grandeur in my youth. I don't understand things as well as I thought, and the decisions of a child still affect this adult daily - which is something I never expected.

Yesterday we had the opportunity to teach our K-5th graders about Love, as the beginning of our study about the Fruit of the Spirit. As our lesson wound down, and we gave them a heart to write in what way they would "choose to love" this week. Then we wrote a Bible verse on the front, "Little children, let us love in truth and action" 1 John 3:18. In this process one of the young ladies asked her peers to help her spell children. The response by the 7-9 year old girls was lacking love.

"Seriously? You don't know how to spell 'children'?"

"You mean you really don't know how to spell 'children'?"

I was assisting the boys when my husband pointed out to me that this young lady was sitting away from everyone else looking on the verge of tears. I went over and talked to her - where she relayed the above story. I comforted her, apologizing that they had hurt her feelings. I encouraged her, telling her what she did was brave and that she shouldn't be discouraged to ask for help again and that she should keep having courage to ask. I then decided to take all the other girls out of the room (even ones who I knew were not part of the discussion) and talk to them about practicing love.

I asked them if they have seen teenage girls be mean to each other - all of them had stories of being mean. 

I told them that right now is the time they have to have each other's backs. They need each other.

I told them that the world is hard, there are people who will try to be mean to them. 

I reminded them of the unique opportunity they have to love each other. They are the light to the Lord, and they can't love the people outside if they can't love each other here.

I asked if they loved God, which they each said yes. I reminded them that if they love God they are His daughter's, which means they are sisters and they need to treat each other that way. 

I then shared what happened to the girl, carefully not calling out those I knew that had hurt her feelings. Rather I asked what they should do when someone asks for help. One girl said if shed didn't know how to spell the words she would say so that way others would make fun of her instead (she's the youngest in the group). The eldest and "cool" girl in the group said she'd be honest as to whether she could spell, but would make sure no one would be made fun of. The two girls who had made fun didn't voice anything. I then asked  all of them to think and ask God to help them see if they treated her unkindly, and if so to apologize.

These young ladies are all raised in Christian homes, experiencing many of the same things I did as a child. I want them to own their faith, like I was encouraged to. They need to hear the whisper of the Spirit now in order to cultivate that throughout their lives. They don't need another person "telling" them what to do, but rather guiding them into making the right decisions. You see this 8-12 time framed my faith, my habits, my sins, my love, my image of God, my purpose, my call in significant ways I am still unfolding. 

I let the girls go back in the room and hang out with everyone else. Two of the girls asked me if what they did was right. Rather than giving them a simply yes or no, I asked them how it would feel if someone treated them that same way. One girl went and apologized after this. The other girl, who struggles with authority and empathy thought my point was silly and couldn't see through the eyes of the other young lady.

In our attempt to learn about the Fruit of the Spirit, we were given the opportunity to practice love. It was a choice, not a feeling and that hopefully planted a seed. My little kids, and us adults - We are the Body of Christ, we need to desperately choose to love each other -  not yelling at our differing opinions, attire, politics, gender, leadership or race. If we can't practice love here, when I am tied to you and you are tied to me, how can we ever love a world that hates us? Love as a fruit of the Spirit is a gift, and it is a choice - it is not first a feeling but it is lived out through supernatural obedience. 

Love doesn't blindly agree; love certainly calls us out on our crap.

Love knows that we are a family, and no matter what we are in this together so I will work towards reconciliation, I will move towards friendship, I will lay my life down for you for this is the way the world will see our Savior. 

I look forward to learning more with my kids as we attempt to live out this Christian life together.