Me

One of my favorite movies of my youth had to be Princess Diaries. The odd, quirky teen meeting her royal grandmother and takes "princess" lessons much to her dismay. My grandmother was a San Franciscan debutante from the mid 30s, her single mother worked multiple jobs to provide her that access into society and it paid off when she'd marry my grandfather, the son of a prestigious dental family in Santa Cruz. My only memory of my grandfather was him making me sit at another table at a nice restaurant when I used my hand to get a piece of ice rather than a spoon - I was three. My grandmother and I would become very close and she'd often call me her favorite, but that relationship wasn't without consistent comments, decorum checks, and manners analysis. Unfortunately when Princess Diaries  came out I had started my teenage "I don't care about you, I'm drowning in my teenage depression" phase. By the time I'd get out of that, she'd be gone and I'd be here wishing I could take back that "me" phase.

There is a scene towards the end of the film, where Mia gives her speech. Everyone is expecting her to turn down the crown, but when she gets up - disheveled by the rain and running to get there - something else happens entirely. She talks about how many times she talks about "i", how every thought she has is for herself and what would happen if she took that towards the other, towards the people of Genovia. Her speech is clumsy, and in classic teenager fashion she goes down too many rabbit trails, but the point is made - what difference can I  make if I'm not just about me?

When I sat down to write this morning this scene played in my head. The awkward stumbling over words, the sincere determination in her act, and the warm approval found in the faces of those that loved her. I've lived pretty well in a "me" state, where even in the good acts for the other the thought of "me" flood them. To think of yourself is not a sin in itself, but when your loving others in the confines of what fits you, how it makes you feel, and how it affects you - then yes the second greatest commandment can not be fulfilled and you are walking in sin. I've been walking in good intentioned sin for so long. Cutting  off those parts that are hard to deal with, minimizing the memories, and holding onto what feels good to me. Like an addict facing the scope of their drugs affect, but uncertain of the ability to quit or not even sure if they truly want to - so to I sit here, pondering what the other side looks like, what does dying to myself really mean in the daily grind of parenthood, of marriage, of work, of family, of life? Is the cost worth the prize?

I think it's like the prodigal, for all the times he didn't come back - perhaps it was the uncertainty of what it would like that kept him away. Thus it wasn't until the circumstances were passed the point of any good thing, that the decision to go home was able to happen because nothing worse could happen. If wasn't a change in his heart that caused him to go home, not a sudden realization of the goodness of his Father, no it was that the circumstances could not get more dire, so would not his father care for him at least as poorly as these strangers. This is the view that keeps us away from the Lord, this is the posture of our hearts that prevent us from seeing the goodness of our Father. He is a foreboding deity, a righteous king, who's much like us demanding for us to be clean before entering into his gates. And we stand outside the Holy of holies, scrubbing the stains on our skin, trying to cover the wounds across our bodies, so that we may enter. But the water is as mud, and the soap a dye so permanent we can never scrub hard enough to rid us of its mark. Thus we stand outside the throne room, longing to go inside but believing only our clean hearts will be welcomed. But the king sits inside, awaiting in anxious excitement for his children. He sent out messengers for them to come as they are. As they don't arrive the King himself goes out, but in more  common clothes as to prevent shock, but his children don't recognize his face, and they spit at his declaration to come ad they are. He sees their scrubbing and offers them clean pools of Holy light in which they could bath and be made pure. But they sit in the mud, scrubbing with no end in sight - outside the gates....

For many years this is how I envisioned the Lord. He is a good king for He invited me to his home, but I must make myself good to go before him. I had to scrub off the dirt, and sometimes or even often times it seemed to work. But it would take days, or even weeks before I'd enter I to His presence when He would've taken me just as I am, right then. In recent years instead if looking at my own dirt, I've restricted His grace, limited His reach and said "he can not take me here, he can not wipe away these sins, they are the death of me." It's amazing how when you believe something how much the world seems to change to fit that belief, hence my worldview became one of action, and little space for a Spirit's move. It was one of consequence, and grace was only for the internal sins, not those worldly vices like money.

Perhaps then we are doomed to live bound by the chains we put on ourselves, to drown in the mud we swore was healing water... We can put on blinders so tight than even light cannot enter in. But that presumes a passive God, a Spirit that cannot reach, a Son whose sacrifice could only go so far. Yes I can ignore the Light, I can deny the flame in front of my eyes but that doesn't stop the Lord from being present. My denial does not restrict the I Am, so He is so much more than I.

Lord help me to see you.
To take down that which blocks me from you.
To not fear the unknown for you are ever present, and we are not alone.
Abba, good Father, intimate King, forgive this foolish girl.
Pride, fear, strength, and control are my vices, that which I hold so dear.
Manipulation, rebellion, anger and hate these are the monsters that have taken up room in my heart.
Righteous warrior, serving soldier, daughter of grace, and of joy, these are my names and I claim them.
Spirit convict in me Truth righteousness, love and sacrifice. Help me to love because You loved first, not for my own gain.
Forgive me Father for I have sinned, cleanse my lips, purge my broken sight and make me new, precious Jesus.

I(n) justice

Of late the news has been overflowing with updates of the latest injustice. Living wage. Women matter. Black lives matter. War spreading. Disease killing lives and economies. Bigotry. Biased.

To be honest it can be overwhelming. But as I felt the Spirit tell me months ago, She holds all causes within the Godhead - I am called to obey and follow where God leads me and pray for all.

I have spent the last four and half years dedicated to a job. While other parts of my life have been important, when I rise and when I lay my head to rest the responsibilities of Sodexo have been in my heart. In many ways I feel like I've given my best to this place. They have given me in return as well, I've been given opportunities, education, experience and training that is invaluable. But it's not been without blood, sweat and tears.

My father has often reminded me of my name, Traci and it's meaning. Demanding on the origin it can mean industrious, determined or warrior. I have lived these all in my job, often forgetting the grace that flows from the Spirit and God knew when my parents  gave me the middle name Anne.

Last night at our corporate Christmas party, I wept. I wept for the injustices. Of the world. Of the wage gap. Of the fact that if I live in poverty then how much more do my counterparts earning almost half of what I do. I sinned in my weeping as I directed my pain to man rather than the principalities and powers of injustice, and then lamenting to the Lord. This is why I see that often times I respond to injustice as more my interpretation of justice or I (n)justice. I wept, my heart still is heavy - I may never recover. But I hope the Lord will tighten my lips, soften my heart and ready my knees to pray like I've never prayed before..

To be honest.

I'm not sure what to say.
I don't understand why you do what you do.
I know you've been hurt,
And life has been hard.
But the past can only go so far.

You and he, makes no sense to me.
Heart longings, and dissatisfaction.
Maybe it's alright.
Maybe it's not.

When time stops,
will we ever catch up?
Days, weeks, Summer, fall.
I've yet to say how I feel.

I'm done.
Protecting.
Correcting.
Trying to heal.
Don't put me in the middle of this.
I'm sorry I turned away.
But it wasn't for me anyway.
I can only carry so much,
before what's said breaks me.

I love you.
I always will.
But I need some space.
Some time to recover peace.
Because I want to cry,
when I think of your face.
And that's too much,
for a good daughter to feel.

Love deep.
Hope long.
Act faithful.
Dream beyond.
Inspire love.
Give hope.
Faithfully pursue.
Beyond all hurts -
I believe, but it's up to you.

The yell

Why?
Are you silent...
Are you still...
Are you distant...

Why?
Do you tarry?
Do you seem cold?
Do you wait?

I want to yell, scream, shout, fall on the floor and weep. You seem so far away from those who need you so near. Your timing is obscure, your action feels intermittent and our hearts grow heavy.

Act!
Speak!
Heal!
Why do you withold the bread? And leave us to feel like we are with the snake?
... Oh God....
What can we do?
What sacrifice can we bring?
What act must we obey?
What prayer must we pray?

To see you....
To feel you...
To know you...
And be whole in your promises...

Forgive me but I grow weary, I know you aren't intimidated by my doubts, but they drown me Lord. They feel heavier than life or hope, especially today. Precious Jesus I just want peace... To see the lame walk. To know the blind see. To see the depressed sing with joy. I know you want this too, for it is your heart I carry within me. But Lord, why?

Please, please for Your goodness, for the glory of Your name, please act soon and swiftly - our hearts are broken, our bodies perishing, and our songs fade.

For the glory of your name.
For the glory of Your good, good name.
Abba
Lord
I Am
Savior
Creator
King

Be all these and more in us today...

When running comes to an end...

Most who know me, know that I am constantly on the go. Like Wile E. Coyote chasing the Roadrunner I am constantly seeking after the task ahead of me. As the anvil falls on my head, or as I run off a cliff - nothing will detour me from that Roadrunner. The voices around me tell me to stop, slow down, enjoy that which is around you but like an addict - I can't seem to stop chasing after the task.

But death.....

Death stops any soul - at least for a moment. And death has been more in my life the last 10 days than it has appeared in almost a decade. Death of an employee, death of a distant friend, death of a father's dream - death is an enemy and has shown itself so this season. But everything keeps moving. Like a hamster stuck in it's wheel - I've tried to stop moving and the wheel won't stop spinning, and it's leaving me dizzy and disoriented.

The voices have been true. Friends encouraging to be, pastors saying to stay, lovers wanting just to know. I laid on my husband's chest, as he read Angelina Ballerina and I cried.

I want to be eloquent.
I want to write something beautiful.
But my ability to speak is all I have now.

Why?
Why Jesus?
Why don't you come?
Why is death winning?
I thought you destroyed this enemy.
I thought you made a better way.
You spoke of resurrection, of new life,
of being with You.
But I am left here wondering why...*
Friends die,
Friends aren't healed,
why the system wins.
Why dreams never come to pass.
Why disappoint seems to hold the keys for each our lives?
Why am I drowning, when those around me have such bigger burdens to bear?

Spirit speak.
Move,
Breathe,
Change this very space.
These tattered bodies can't take much more.
Lazarus is in his tomb, Jesus tarry not much more.
I wish there was a formula,
a prayer we could say to see You in the ways we want.
Jesus, you know we are barely breathing.
God! Is breathe enough for you?
I never knew.

Our Father,
who are in Heaven and everywhere,
Holy, sacred, blessed is your name.
Your purpose, your justice, Your kingdom come,
Your will be done
Here in my life, on earth and everywhere
as it is in heaven.
Give us today our daily bread.
The sustenance of life, bring forth in us this day.
Forgive my sins, my doubts, my failings,
as I too forgive those that fail, wrong and hurt me.
Lead me not into deception, temptation,
But deliver me from this evil, this distrust of You.
Amen.

*Check out Wondering by the Doodads and Don'ts (really check out their whole album Changing Your Habits as it played during this blog writing.)

...We Wait

You the know the story of Jonah, right? That prophet from the Old Testament who in hearing the new word of the Lord ran away to Tarshish, almost killed all that were with him (innocent bystanders), swallowed by a fish, preached repentance to Nineveh, and then waited for God to destroy the sinners. But when God heard their cries, Jonah cursed God and wished he could die - but not over the city but over the shelter of a plant that God caused to bring forth and then a caterpillar ate away.

If you are like me, you do a double take at that end statement. He cursed God and wished he could die, over a plant. Don't think about Nineveh for a second, think about the fact that something so small could cause such grief, how it could overwhelm his soul unto death....
Jonah certainly had trust issues. Even though he had been saved from a storm, and delivered from the stomach of the fish - and that he had even heard the words of God and shared them a responsive people. Nope, the plant dying was the thing that showed that his heart was in distress. For this God who he thought he knew was not the God who would've saved Nineveh. His entire worldview, his faithful interpretation of God was crumbling around him and at that moment the only rational thing was to curse, wail, and mourn the loss of temporary shelter.

Ouch....

I mean really, ouch...

I've heard God speak, acted as His mouthpiece, witnessed healing, heard His call and here in this moment an employee walking out without any notice was that which I doubted God and cursed His name. Yeah Jonah my friend, I fear you and I would've been kindred souls in that moment.

It was a year ago when life took another turn, where everything began to change, when the word pastor was first uttered from my mouth. It was like speaking in an unknown language - it's very tone seemed unfamiliar and foreign from my lips. But there it was, and for a while I walked in it. I wrestled, and I cried, a lot. I spoke in energetic hope, my character was changing, my family growing but then the walls started to come down. You see that unfamiliar word would do more than leave my lips, they would crash down all my nice sets, the cracked foundations would be made barren and even then we'd have to start over. The clay would have to sit, the cement turn and dry - the season of dry, painful tearing down had begun and I didn't have a clue till I was sitting in its rubble.

In the autumn once again, and no new word has been uttered. Rather I've asked to give up the word given. I've ask to return the gift, to let this pass. Had I known what it would cost in my own soul, well I don't know if I would have opened my mouth. The world is good, my family great, my friends closer than a brother but I see now. All that I assumed I knew, well it wasn't all I thought it was. Each part of what I built upon has been taken a part and now I wait there. Looking around at this empty shell of a house, wondering if a home will take place here again. Please know, this is all internal. There have been no living altering outside changes, but rather a complete deconstruction inside.

As I wept in church Wednesday night, sobbing in the midst of my pastor's preaching, I heard I had not failed. That God did not see my four years of work as a failure. Then a new and dear friend sat next to me and prayed. She held me as I wept and said this year would be a year of healing. The look in her eyes, I knew it was God. The Spirit was there in her words, and I hoped.

But still as the plant was eaten this week, I laid on the ground and wished for death. I've locked myself away from everyone, shut out my heart and hoped to avoid emotional intimacy. Because the truth hurts, and I know you'd see it written on my face.

For who knows what is good for man while he lives the few days of his vain life, which he passes like a shadow? For who can tell man what will be after him under the sun? Ecclesiastes 6:12

Can you imagine being the disciples? Seeing their friend, their teacher, their Lord, the one who embodied all their hope and vision of the future - dead, dying on a cross meant for the vilest of men? Reading John 16, I can only imagine the grief Jesus held for his brothers - they had no idea. Not because he didn't tell them, but because they thought they heard Him but really only heard what He said through their preconceived notions of reality. They too had to have everything taken apart, in the most literal and painful way - all they had known was stripped away and they were left once again fishermen lost without a way to go.

But then in their waiting, in their doing, in their distress Jesus came. He was new, He was familiar, He was different, He embodied all that was meant to be but not what they had expected Him to be. For some the difference was too radical, they could walk and talk with Him but not recognize their Lord, for others they had to touch in order to believe, and still yet for others it was in the breaking of bread they knew it was their Lord and they could hope again.

I haven't seen Jesus rise yet. The deaths of what I thought, how I thought I knew things worked are still dead in the grave. It may be day one, two or the rising of the third day - all I know is that right here it feels dead and gone. But I have nothing else to do but continue to be, to rise and wait. Will I run out when a whisper of hope comes? Will I walk with my Lord and not even know Him? Will I reject the knowledge and testimony of those around me, having to wait till He appears to me and be humbled?

Oh God let me see You.
Precious Jesus, in the early morning,
as my grief seems overwhelming,
and the darkness so strong,
let me rise and run to You.
At the whisper of dawn,
at the call of life,
Let me have faith to come.
But if I don't dear Lord,
Don't give up on me,
Let me walk with You,
Talk with You,
Break bread,
touch You,
hear testimony of You,
however I can heard Lord, speak
and save this wretched one.
But let me not curse You and wish for death.
Sustain me Spirit in this barren land.
In the wasteland of death,
be the Breathe of Life to me.
Because hope is found in just breathing.
So Spirit breathe over me.
Until the building begins,
till this cement dries,
till the frame is seen,
sustain me.

And Then...

It was this time two years ago when things started to change....

Autumn has that ability to bring on nostalgia, the recollecting of times gone by. It seems like yesterday where we gathered round, discussing the future and the hope we longed to see. Not intimate, but honest were our reflections and we all had searched for a church to call home, to call "family".

Thank you for inviting us to New Covenant, saying your children enjoyed it. While it wasn't your home, it became ours and we are eternally marked by Her.

It was the Christmas dinner, and feeling awkward as it was our first meal at the Seminary. As you walked past us, you grabbed my arm and said You are a part of us. I've heard you say these words to several people since then. But their power has not diminished - your touch pulled us in and I knew I had to be home.

In the cold of Winter and the New Year, after the joy of Advent, the sorrow of Lent began. I still remember walking into the sanctuary that first night, you with me not knowing fully that this one night would mark a new stage in life. This Lenten season, would make way for many more seasons in these Wednesday night prayer services. I was changed by their intimacy. One night another spoke in languages unknown and her tone brought my heart joy, it sounded like the tongue of a land I longed to be in. You reminded me of the other, and you shaped me to see more.

The Spring came forth and life began, meeting, knowing, gathering and falling in love. You were foreign to me, honestly your handicap at first intimidated me - but your hospitality was compelling and drew me in. Our first outing was magnificent, seeing creation, talking, and making memories. You would say I was a blessing, but it is you who made me see what family beyond blood could be.

Linear is how I've always thought.

Gaining.
Growing.
Changing.
Moving on.
Forward motion.

Circular is how you spoke.

Seasons.
Growth.
Maturity.
Brokenness.
Will of God.

This is a thank you.

For you've become family. Some members I know better than myself. Others still have depths I have yet to see. Most I've not spent as much as I'd like to get to know. You've marked me. You've made me. You've welcomed me. You've driven me crazy. I've cried, cursed, screamed, and sat in silence. I have spoken in joy, prophetic longing, imagination, and hope. I have sung songs for your present, and declared songs of your future fulfillment. I've been accepted, misunderstood, rejected and warmed. I guess this is family beyond name. I thank you. No matter where we go from here, I know I will thank the Lord for you and pray that the Spirit who brought us together will continue the good work She has started.