Category: Mystery

“Invincible Summer in the Midst of Winter…”

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Okay, so it’s late April and  officially spring, but in southwestern Colorado, it can be hard to tell in the month of April. Admittedly, we’re officially spoiled here–our state sees the sun shine an average of 360 days per year. This month, a couple hours a day is often all we get. The wind, cold, icy rain, and occasional snow give it the unmistakable feel of ongoing winter. With a global pandemic and the isolation of sheltering in place, it’s easy to let the doldrums of the season overcome. 

And yet, the red-winged blackbirds who arrived over a month ago sing their spring song and balance on the thinnest of branches regardless of the storms. They remind me of the thoughts of great thinkers of long ago. Albert Camus wrote, “In the midst of winter, I finally discovered that deep within me lies an invincible summer.” Transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau encouraged, “Live each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of each.” What lovely reminders that wherever we’re at, there are pleasures and beauty to be found and enjoyed, moment by moment. Summer can always be cultivated within us.

In my own winter mentality moments, I continue to grieve for the loss of a career I loved due to poor health. Although it’s been a couple of years since I quit teaching full-time, I struggle to find my place in the professional world. For the second year in a row, I applied for a job I hoped might be the solution and didn’t get it. As I lamented to a friend the difficulty of no longer being valued or known in this professional realm, she reminded me of the TRUTH. I am absolutely valued and known, seen and heard. My God has not forgotten me and will walk with me through this season. Psalm 18:19 assures me He brings me out into a place of abundance because He delights in me.

 
In Lamentations, the prophet Jeremiah, writing in a time of great personal and societal suffering, said, “Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness” (Lam. 3:22-23, NIV). Brother Lawrence, a saint of old, saw all men like trees in winter, stripped of color, leaf, and anything of value–yet loved unconditionally. Though I am a humble tree in winter, struggling toward warmth and light, I will “…live this season as it passes…” knowing “…within me lies an invincible summer.”

“Always We Begin Again…”

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As I walked my dogs the other morning, I looked out onto a world made new. The crisp azure sky highlighted jagged mountain peaks covered in a dazzling fresh coat of snow. Cat Stevens’ song rang out in my mind, “Morning has broken, like the first morning. Blackbird has spoken like the first bird. Praise for the singing, praise for the morning….” Creation is continually sustained and remade, just as we are.

 

The new year and decade remind me that no matter where we’re at, whatever regrets we have or roads we may wish we had taken in the past, whatever has us feeling trapped or stuck, it’s always possible to find redemption for the areas in which we fall short and start over. As the great poet Rainer Maria Rilke prompted, “Let us believe in a long year that is given to us new, untouched, full of things that have never been.”

 

Leeana Tankersley writes about the prayer of St. Benedict used to call the saints of old to the holiness of repetition, “Always we begin again.” As an intention for each new year, day, or moment, it reminds us that all of life is about the openness for continual renewal. As Tankersley writes, “…that’s what so much of life is–learning how, and learning how again, over and over.”

 

Colombia has one of the oldest standing guerilla armies in the world and a long-standing internal conflict that has killed hundreds of thousands, affecting over nine million. Executive Jose Miguel Sokoloff and a group of peacemakers led their native country in transformation over several years during the holiday season.* Initially, they covered a path from the jungle where the guerillas hid with Christmas lights and left a message stating, “If Christmas can come to the jungle, you can come home. Demobilize. At Christmas, everything is possible.” The message worked and soldiers began to lay down their arms. The next year, Sokoloff’s group put bouncy balls that lit up into the rivers with personal messages inside from families who had soldiers fighting. Several soldiers a day returned home. Eventually, as many as 17,000 laid down their weapons. 
If this kind of societal transformation is possible, what is conceivable within our own individual stories? Will we allow the things that break our hearts to also crush our spirits? Will paths that fizzle out become dead ends or opportunities to forge a new road? Will each new day be a reminder of the time we’ve lost or of all that awaits? Emily Dickins exhorted, “The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience…DWELL IN POSSIBILITY.” If we are open-hearted and open-minded, willing to embrace a life that will consistently surprise us and a Creator that will continually transform us, the possibilities are endless. We can always begin again.

*(1) Lisa Shipley, “Christmas after Christmas: How a Colombian ad exec helped demobilize guerrillas by advertising peace,” The Bogota Post, December 3, 2017.

“Be Like the Bird…”-

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We all have times where it feels like the ground is falling out beneath our feet, when everything solid that we know suddenly disappears. The things we thought were firm and sure supports either cease to bear the full weight of our lives, become disconnected from one another, or crumble completely—our foundations are revealed to be faulty. As believers, we know that God is the only sure base, Christ is the Solid Rock, but our own expectations & experiences become subtly intermixed. 

 

Just as the birds, whose mothers often nudge or even push them out of the nest, these times are necessary if we are ever to find our wings. Victor Hugo has a poem that describes this well, & encourages us to find a song in the midst of this scary process of learning to fly: “Be like the bird who, halting in flight, on limb too slight, feels it give way beneath him, yet sings, knowing he hath wings.” Our worlds may shatter & our backs may buckle & our feet may falter, but the One who watches over us has not ignored our fall. Instead, He has equipped us with both wings and songs. 

 

A dear friend recently sent me a quote by Og Mandino that beautifully describes what it means to live with this kind of bravery:

 

“I will greet this day with love in my heart. And how will I do this? Henceforth will I look on all things with love and be born again. I will love the sun for it warms my bones; yet I will love the rain for it cleanses my spirit. I will love the light for it shows me the way; yet I will love the darkness for it shows me the stars. I will welcome happiness as it enlarges my heart; yet I will endure sadness for it opens my soul. I will acknowledge rewards for they are my due; yet I will welcome obstacles for they are my challenge.” 

 

Just like the birds who learn to soar through the very experience they initially avoided at all costs, the experiences & skills we gain through the storms of life can offer such freedom. Though we are grounded earthlings, that will not always be the case; shouldn’t our human experiences include both flight & joyous song? Though the wind may blow and the limbs beneath us may give way, because God has offered us His everlasting embrace, we are safe.

“Feeding on Mystery: The Table Before Me…”

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We all know it to be true…our lives can change in an instant, in a single breath. Some years crawl and plod on with seeming monotony, yet each day holds wonders untold. Then there are the days where something shifts. For better or worse, the unexpected comes. At times, among those surprises are the things we’ve long hoped and prayed for, revealing the unbelief that resided in our hearts all along. At others, unspoken fears are realized or loss we never imagined possible occurs. We must find ways to accept life’s ambiguity and mystery in order to find happiness and peace.

 

In her stunning book 1,000 Gifts, Ann Voskamp provides an eloquent exposition of the Hebrew word manna, meaning, “What is it?” As the Israelites exited their time of slavery in Egypt and began their desert journey to the Promised Land, God rained down manna bread from heaven to nourish them each day. Though plentiful, they couldn’t store it up—each family could gather only what it could eat in a day and must trust God’s provision would be there again the next day. Though delicious, this was to be their sustenance for forty years—meal after meal, day after day. Amazed at first by the miracle God faithfully performed on their behalf, the Israelites cried out in wonder, “What is it?” But as the days and years of wandering in a barren place wore on, their amazement soon turned to grumbling.

 

This is so true in my own life. At first, when God provides for me in the dry places, I’m inclined to see His hand and marvel at His goodness and might. As time goes by, however, my eyes are blinded to the countless ways He works on my behalf. Contentment soon changes to dissatisfaction. I grow tired of feeding on mystery and desire to simply understand the purpose of it all.

 

In Psalm 23:5, David writes, “He prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” There’s never a shortage of enemies in life, though they come in many forms. The promise, however, is that there is always a table prepared for ME in His presence. I don’t expect or desire it to be filled with mystery, with provisions that are difficult to identify. But so it is. God asks me to take the bread He has given, that He has been broken in order to break with me, and to call it grace. And so I will.

 

The following verse of Psalm 23 states, “Surely goodness & mercy will follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” Though unknown, though highly unpredictable…surely good things are in store. As Albert Einstein said, “There are two ways in which you can live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle, or you can live as if everything is a miracle.” 

***Photo Credits: lovedoes.org

The Present Nu…

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The more I journey into my adult life, the more I find that the past is something that has a strong grip on me. For better or worse, it has shaped me into the person I am today. Many memories, trained reactions, and wounds are hard to let go of. I’ve found that some are even woven into parts of my subconscious and nervous system. This way of being can in fact, be a place of exile. As author Leif Enger mentions in his novel Peace Like a River, “Exile is a country of shifting borders, hard to quit yet hard to endure, no matter your wide shoulders, no matter your toughened heart.” Though I know that it is only as I grow and learn to dwell in the present that I can embrace all that God has for me, it is quite a journey to learn how to do that. 

 

What a comfort to know that regardless of where I dwell–past, present, or future–God is with me. Psalm 46:1 states, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in times of trouble.” We often hear that God the Alpha and Omega, the First and the Last. I recently read a quote by William Watley that emphasizes another aspect of His character: “You are connected to somebody who is not only the Alpha and the Omega, but the Nu as well. Alpha and omega are the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet; nu is the middle letter. Thus, Jesus is not only somebody who will be with us in the beginning….He abides with us in all that is between…in the middle.” 

 

God offers us His support in each moment of our lives simply through His presence. I ask, by His mercy, that I may learn to let go of the past and abide in the present with Him. Dominican singer and songwriter Juan Luis Guerra has a song called “Tan Solo He Venido/I Have Only Come,” which speaks to the author’s desire to commune with God. In it, he speaks to wanting to walk in the park with the Lord and have a conversation, just to be with Him and worship Him and know Him more, trusting God already knows the needs and petitions of His heart. Though at times I may get discouraged with the slow speed of my growth, it’s a consolation to find this level of companionship and comfort always waiting for me.

Perspective & Gratitude…

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It’s amazing how an unexpected trip to the emergency room and stay in the hospital can provide a new perspective on things. After two intestinal surgeries to remediate the effects of his Crohn’s Disease, my husband is finally beginning to heal, and we are grateful.

One of the biggest things I’ve learned is that marriage worked–we truly are one. As my husband has bravely suffered countless procedures, pokings and proddings, two operations, the night of the drug-induced coma between them, the intense sleepless days in the ICU after, and the indignity of the ileostomy bag he’ll need for several more months, I have felt at least a small share of his pain in it all. Every time I have to leave him or be separated from him or watch them stick something else into him, I physically feel the pain of it and my heart breaks for him. Often it feels as though I’m leaving a part of myself behind. Despite the difficulty of all of this, we know that God is making us stronger and more united, increasing our love for one another day by day. Mikael is loved by all the nurses and providers here for his positive attitude and the way he thanks them for everything they do, even those that are painful or uncomfortable. I come to admire my Mikael more every day too.

Each one of those experiences that’s been hard or humbling or uncomfortable we’re doing our best to bless, knowing that when you bless something it loses its power to hurt you. So we bless the N/G tube in his nose that made him gag and prevented him from turning his head. I bless the nurses that see him naked and get irritated with my questions or requests (though overall, they’ve been wonderful!). We bless each thing as an instrument of God’s healing and growing work in our lives.

We’re learning to give thanks for each small miracle, and we’ve had a lot this week! We got to leave the ICU and get onto a regular ward floor, enabling Mikael to get some better rest. We’ve had good visits from family and friends and feel love and support from those who are far away. Mikael got his N/G tube out and can move his head freely! On other days he got his catheter out, an IV taken out of his left hand, and one out of his right hand. Yesterday, they took off his wound covering and the wound-vac pump that went with it. Then, the miracle of all miracles, I got the first hug I’d had in almost a week because he was free enough of tubes to make it possible!

Mikael’s making some physical strides of progress. He was able to walk all the way down the ward hallway and sit outside on the patio and I don’t think we’ve ever been so grateful to look out at the I-225 traffic on a cloudy day and feel the breeze :). Yesterday, Mikael got his first bite of real food in twelve days and began to weep it tasted so good. Today, he had his first shower in six days and it left him speechless. Both of us may sleep an hour or ninety minutes at a time here at night, but we’re just so thankful to get that much, and that we can be together, and that he’s okay.

We know that our Father is good and that we have never been out of His care. That’s definitely been proven to us by having so many beautiful loved ones in our lives! As well as we may know them, we’re learning again the words of Paul by heart, “Rejoice always; pray without ceasing. In everything, give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus” (I Thessalonians 5:16-18). My favorite author Wendell Berry said it well too, “What we must do is this: ‘Love always, pray continually, in everything give thanks.’ I’m not all the way capable of it, but I know those are the right instructions.” These events that have interrupted the normal events of our life also serve as an invitation to draw even more near to God’s heart–gratitude is one of our paths and we have chosen to take it.

“DO IT AGAIN…”

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Though my family didn’t move to Colorado until I turned eight, having lived here thirty years this year, I consider myself very much a Colorado girl. Filled with more Fourteeners than any other state, Colorado’s high desert tundra, crystal mountain lakes, majestic sunrises and sunsets, alpenglow, and mystical mountains have “filled up my senses” countless times.

 

I’ve often wondered what it is about mountains that’s so captivating. They’re definitely a solid, seemingly immovable presence. They remind us there’s something and someone greater than us, greater than the obstacles we face each day. They invite and beckon to adventure, exploration, and challenge. They call us to see new beauty and summit the heights. And yet, as solid and unchanging as the mountains seem, Jesus tell us we can move them. “…Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you” (Matthew 17:20, NIV).

 

There are a few seasons of life that have been marked journeys of faith for me, times when God called me to believe something that seemed virtually impossible at the time. It required a long wait, a lot of growth, and an attitude of expectancy as I navigated the valleys and summited the peaks. Sometimes, the hoped-for result came. Sometimes not. Most often, the answer looked quite different than I anticipated. But always, always, God proved Himself faithful, and the greatest reward came from His presence on the journey. In reality, it wasn’t my faith that moved mountains. My Father God worked on my behalf to move them for me as I depended on Him.

 

Several things have shifted in my circumstances lately, or burst, perhaps, is a better word. So now, here I am, once again in another season of absolute need, desperate for my God to move. As many times as God’s done the impossible and shown Himself strong in my life, still, it requires more faith for me to believe He’ll do it again. I continue to allow my fear to be bigger than my faith. But as song artist Rita Springer says, “I have to believe that He sees my darkness. I have to believe that He knows my pain…. For He said that He’s forever faithful. He said He’s forever true. He said He can move mountains. He can move my mountains; He can move your mountains too. I have to believe.” Faith simultaneously transforms us and sustains us. In Isaiah, hundreds of years before Jesus came, God assures us, “…I will not forget you. See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands. Your walls…are ever before me” (Isaiah 49:16). What I face, He faces…He has engraved me on the palms of His hands. He has always been faithful…He will be again. “I believe Lord, help my unbelief” (Mark 9:24).

 

There’s a song by Elevation Worship that’s been speaking to my heart, “DO IT AGAIN.” The lyrics state:

 

“Walking around these walls

I thought by now they’d fall

But You have never failed me yet

Waiting for change to come

Knowing the battle’s won

For You have never failed me yet

 

Your promise still stands

Great is Your faithfulness, faithfulness

I’m still in Your hands

This is my confidence, You’ve never failed me yet

 

I know the night won’t last

Your Word will come to pass

My heart will sing Your praise again

Jesus, You’re still enough

Keep me within Your love

My heart will sing Your praise again

 

I’ve seen You move, come move the mountains

And I believe, I’ll see You do it again

You made a way, where there was no way

And I believe, I’ll see You do it again…”

 

Indeed. I have seen Him move mountains. And I do believe. I will see Him do it again. He has made a way where there was no way. Let’s believe we’ll see Him do it again.

“O Cross that Liftest Up My Head” (George Matheson)…

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The final stanza to George Matheson’s hymn “O Love That Will Not Let Me Go” makes clear the calling each follower of Christ is called to:

 

O Cross that liftest up my head

I do not ask to fly from thee

I lay in dust life’s glory dead

And from the ground there blossoms red

Life that shall ever be.

 

Our earthly lives can be full of blessing, and simultaneously, full of suffering, marked my wounds and scars we’ve received along the way. The apostle Peter speaks to this in I Peter 4:12: “My dear brothers, do not be surprised at the test you are suffering, as though something unusual was happening to you. Rather, rejoice that you are sharing in the suffering of Christ, so that you may be full of joy when His glory is revealed.”

 

We share in the suffering of Christ, who suffered all things for us, and we are promised joy as the end result. When Jesus returned to the disciples after the crucifixion and the apostle Thomas doubted his resurrected identity, Jesus told him to feel the wounds in his side and his hands. Jesus offered Thomas total transparency, knowing this apostle would one day be martyred for his efforts to share the gospel in modern day India.

 

As author Sheila Walsh states in her book It’s Okay Not to Be Okay: Moving Forward One Day At a Time:
“There is no image that displays the love of God more perfectly than the scars of Jesus. The scars tell God’s story. ‘That Sunday evening the disciples were meeting behind locked doors because they were afraid of the Jewish leaders. Suddenly, Jesus was standing there among them! ‘Peace be with you,’ he said. As he spoke, he showed them the wounds in his hands and his side. They were filled with joy when they saw the Lord!’ (John 20:19–20)

But before the joy, there was heartache and questions. Nothing made sense anymore.

We all know we’ll face challenges in life, but sometimes we’re hit by something that feels as if the enemy has won. That’s a frightening place to be. That must have been how the disciples felt that night.

But as the risen Christ held out His nail-pierced hands and wounded side to His friends, they were no longer marks of death, they were signs of victory: declaring that death was overcome by the blood of the Lamb. Christ wears those scars in heaven as glorious trophies of the battle He has won.

The only wound from this earth in eternity will be the scars of Christ (emphasis mine). If Christ has chosen to live eternally with His scars, why would we be ashamed to show ours?

I think that every time God the Father sees the pierced hands and feet of Christ, He sees you and me. The scars tell God’s love story.

The love of God invites us to bring our scars into the light. We don’t have to hide anymore. It really is okay not to be okay.

Our scars are proof that God heals.”

Strong Hands, New Eyes…

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Oscar Wilde once said, “It takes great courage to see the world in all its tainted glory, and still to love it.” This truth often strikes me, for, on a daily basis, I am amazed by the beauty and kindness and inspirational perseverance around me. On an equally frequent level, I am confronted with woundedness, ugliness, and hypocrisy. To hold the tension of this world’s  “tainted glory” well takes great balance and skill. Whatever and whoever there may be in my own path, I am quick to judge, to praise or condemn, to choose a personal response that has the potential to fall on either end of the spectrum.

 

Whether in line at the post office or the supermarket, driving, walking in the beautiful mountain town where I live, or working, I cross paths with many I choose to ignore. How many do I encounter every day who are longing to be seen or heard or helped in some way? Most often, I choose to believe that my schedule is too busy, my hands are too small and weak. I allow my eyes to cloud over and my mind to wander back to its self-preoccupation.

 

But what if my small hands are strong enough to offer a drink to the thirsty? What if doing so is the water my own soul needs? As David Foster Wallace says in his graduation speech entitled “This Is Water,” “Sometimes the hardest and most important realities are often the hardest to talk about.” In the petty frustrations of day-to-day living with narrow-sighted vision, it is only in choosing to look around with compassion that we find our own paths enlarged.

 

Just as  Jesus did, we are called, “…to preach good news to the poor…to bind up the brokenhearted…to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor…to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve…to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair” (Isaiah 61:1b-3a). God says that “…if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday” (Isaiah 58:10).

 

Spanish-speaking artists Marcela Gándara and Jesus Adrian Romero have a beautiful song entitled “Dame Tus Ojos” (“Give Me Your Eyes”). In the song, they ask God, “Give me your eyes I want to see. Give me your words, I want to speak.” The song is a petition to be filled with the Spirit of God in every step. As we become Christ’s body and His church, may we literally be His hands and feet, see with His eyes, love with His heart.

***Photo Credits: Brainy Quote

Cracks…

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There really isn’t a time in my life when I don’t remember actively walking with the Lord, so one would think that as I begin my thirty-seventh year, I would pretty much have this walk down. Wrong. There are so many days when I feel distant from my Father, so many times when I clearly see my sin and flaws realized in bad behavior. This worn vessel cracks and leaks in ways that make it appear less than ideal for useful service. I hurt those I love most and fall short of God’s glory and my own ambitions every day. At times I am the judgemental older brother, at others, I know myself to be as the wandering and rebellious prodigal son.

 

As RZIM A Slice of Infinity author Jill Carattini pointed out, there’s an easily glanced over phrase in the prodigal son story, “…the prodigal ‘came to himself’ and, at this, he decides to turn back to the father…. The son is one who wakes to health and life again, having been unconscious of his true condition. Standing in a foreign field hungry and alone, the son comes to something more than a good decision. He is waking to an identity he knew in part but never fully realized. He is remembering life in his father’s house again, though for the first time.”

 

How easy it is to lose sight of our identity when we wander away from our Father’s house. How easy it is to forget who God says I am. Lauren Daigle’s recent song, “You Say” beautifully affirms that He sees me cleansed, perfected, and redeemed. He provides acceptance and belonging. No matter what condition I’m in, I can always turn back to the open and waiting arms of my loving Father God.

 

This vessel may be cracked, but may it come to itself, may it come home, and may it be of use. As the apostle Paul said in II Corinthians 5:7-9, “7 But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8 We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.”

 

Canadian poet and songwriter Leonard Cohen also summed it up well in his song “Anthem,”:
“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.”