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Archive for the ‘Lent’ Category

Photo by Paula Tatarunis

I had always assumed the “House of the Lord” meant the church or temple, a place for corporate worship. I interpreted this scripture (well worn by many of the faithful) to mean, show up every Sunday. Eyes opened today: it means the family place of God, to live or exist within the family, bound by the blood.

Psalm 27:4
One thing I ask from the LORD, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple.

I’ve never been that comfortable when church leaders refer to their constituents (or members) as family. I’m sure I’ve been tainted by a less than ideal family history. As immigrants, we had no relatives nearby. In fact, most were locked behind the iron curtain and Berlin wall until 1991. Family was a small corps of people, only three (since my father died when I was nine). I was always envious of those large family gatherings that people would have each holiday and I was delighted when our small family was embraced into a larger one, even briefly.

But the church family thing never really resonated. I suppose I couldn’t be myself in those gatherings. It was still too much like a public venue. I had to put on my “church face.”

Now, there is a different family to consider. This “family of God” is not the Church alone; it is not only the people who meet Sundays and weekdays, who have placed themselves under the banner of a particular denomination or church name (although they are included). No, I believe this family is within where the Spirit resides.

The “shelter of his sacred tent” [vs 5], is within.

This is the world of prayer, meditation, and contemplation. This is the place of creativity and imagination, music and color, beauty and light. This is the world outside of time.

And when two or more are gathered here [Matthew 18:20], God is in the midst of them: in the house of the Lord.

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When people are grieving or anxious, they will often say, “I just keep busy to keep my mind off of it.” And, in those situations, being busy sounds reasonable. But I’m thinking this filling up of the mind with stuff may be interfering with the healing work of God.

Psalm 10:4
In his pride the wicked man does not seek him;
in all his thoughts there is no room for God.

Another example is the memory and RAM needed in a computer. I suppose this is on my mind because of the computer parts all over my desk here at home. I knew my computer was on its last legs, but I wanted to get the data off and transferred to the new computer before it was too late. I got all the right cables, the PC Mover software, made all the right connections but when I tried to load the software, I got a blue screen. It was all over. There was simply no more room on the old computer for anything. Even though the PC Mover software would help the situation, would open up space, the computer was too full already.

How many times have I told my kids to leave room at the top of a cup of coffee if they want to add cream and sugar. Instead, there’s a mess all over the counter from spilled liquid while they try to stir it or carry the brimming cup to the sink.

We do the same thing in our brains. Well, at least, I know I do. I max out my head and my calendar. I keep adding and adding and then I wonder why I start to forget things and become more and more stressed out.

Leaving room for what comes next must be intentional.

If I want God to do a work, to help me solve a problem, to transform my habits, then I’d better leave some extra time, energy, and place for that to happen.

De-cluttering is a good example. Surely, everyone knows that things look and feel worse before they feel better when trying to move from chaos to order. To organize a messy closet, everything has to come out first. The stuff ends up all over the floor and bed. And if I don’t leave enough time to return those items methodically to the closet, I have just expanded my problem.

God also needs my time and attention to de-clutter me within.

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If I am afraid of being abandoned (or forsaken), I will begin looking for signs of it. Although I want that person to remain close, I will put him under the microscope and scrutinize every action and word. My fear morphs into expectation and soon, it’s just a matter of time before he is gone.

Psalm 9:10
Those who know your name trust in you,
for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.

Throughout scripture, God speaks promise and comfort particularly in the area of abandonment. God promises to remain with us, to stand behind us, to live within us [Deuteronomy 31:6; Joshua 1:5b; I Chronicles 28:20; Psalm 94:14; Hebrews 13:5]. Over and over again, one promise after another about forgoing abandonment. It’s not God’s way. So, why must these affirmations be repeated so much? Because we don’t believe it.

There are any number of reasons we expect God to abandon us. In my case, it began with my father’s death when I was nine years old. As a child I could not really understand the circumstances. I only knew or felt that he had left me. And then there was the string of boyfriends who came and went. They, too, added to the pattern, not to mention a dearth of friends when I was young.

As a believer, things got a little better and early on, I gravitated to those verses that promised the steadfastness of God. But even those declarations were chipped away over the years by deep disappointments and failures. Later, depression itself threatened my peace of mind and trust in God. A cloud of loneliness, even in the midst of family and activity, became another secret menace to my heart. And then the inner voices became the same kind of microscope I had used in relationships. “If God really loved you, would He allow you to be in this marriage? If God really loved you, wouldn’t you be able to have children? If God really loved you, wouldn’t you be more successful as an actress, director, playwright, realtor, salesman, manager?” On and on and on.

It can be a slow slog back to faith: a daily choice to believe despite circumstances; a commitment to read and contemplate the promises; a time of quiet and meditation; a courage to confront what appears with what can be.

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Matrix


How long? Maybe forever without intervention. Am I living within a mirage? Am I seeing what I want to see instead of what is there? Am I in the simulated reality of some matrix that I cannot readily perceive? Have I allowed myself to believe in a lie? A delusion? How would I know?

Psalm 4:2
How long will you people turn my glory into shame?
How long will you love delusions and seek false gods [lies]? Selah.

I am not the only one. Living in denial is fairly common. And why? Because stepping out of that state denial may mean facing some difficult truths. I’m pretty sure this cannot be done alone. Why would someone in denial stop living that way by choice? No, something would have to happen, some kind of wake up call.

Some common forms of denial manifest in people who are entrenched in addictive lifestyles: everything from drinking to drugs, pornography to hoarding. These habits become the norm.

My daughter was diagnosed with fibromyalgia at 18 after we adopted her at almost 16. She was living in a constant state of fluctuating pain. She didn’t know that other people did not hurt when they got out of bed every morning or have aching hands, feet, knees, and back every day. She thought everyone lived with pain but she was merely less tolerant than most. How does one learn how to live without pain when that is all a person has known? Would she even recognize the absence of pain?

Some people live in a fog when it comes to relationships. As a result, they explain away physical, mental, and emotional abuse. The abuser is always sorry, after all; the abuser promises to never do that again; the abuser is a delusion.

Lord, forgive me if I have continued to love the delusion. Open my eyes. Reveal deception, my own and others. Shorten the time of my mistakes; restore to me the years that the locusts have eaten [Joel 2:25a]. Give me understanding and wisdom and courage to confront my demons, my deceptions, my false gods and idols. Selah.

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After 70 years, when Jewish exiles returned to Jerusalem and the Second Temple reconstruction was completed and dedicated by the shedding of much animal blood, they celebrated the Passover, eager to seek God through their age-old rituals and traditions. They were home.

Ezra 6:21
So the Israelites who had returned from the exile ate it [Passover lamb], together with all who had separated themselves from the unclean practices of their Gentile neighbors in order to seek the LORD, the God of Israel.

What is my first order of business upon returning home from a long absence? Although I have no hard and fast religious practices to resume, I am anxious to get back into my routine. There is comfort in the familiar. I am happy to greet my dogs and take them outside. I peruse the mail, I make a cup of tea.

There are very few things that I can only do at home and yet, when I do, I am more contented. I can pray anywhere, but when I sit in my favorite chair, I fall into a quick communion with Christ. I can read scripture when I am away, any access will get me there, but my well-worn black leather Bible still comforts me by feel and sound, as the thin pages crackle.

Returning to church after a time away is also consoling with the familiar music and warm engagement with friends. For me, even my work, which can feel redundant and tedious sometimes, breathes into me when I walk through the door, breathes welcome.

There are amazing stories of families who have been separated by years and years through political insanity, such as the Berlin wall that divided East and West Germany or the Iron Curtain or the North Korean Demilitarized Zone, still active today. But when those barriers came down, families found one another again and fell upon each other joy and weeping. The touch of a beloved one.

Even I, when I met my half sister (who lives in Estonia) for the first time in 1996, we embraced fiercely, for we were bound by blood, the same father, and it sustained us. On the same trip, I met my aunt, my mother’s sister for the first time, and her heart exploded when we clung to each other. I was in foreign lands where I did not speak the language well, where homes were completely different from my own, where the culture had suffered from the cruel and powerful through communism, and yet, I was also home.

In May of this year, I will be retracing my steps and re-uniting again my half-sister and aunt. And my heart craves for that time together.

This is a type of longing that God wants me to have for the Holy Spirit every day.

“Come away, my beloved . . . ” [Song of Solomon 8:14a]; come home.

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Joan of Arc as played by Renee Jeanne Falconetti, 1928

The Lectionary readings for this day, the Second Sunday of Lent, are Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16; Psalm 22:23-31; Romans 4:13-25; and, Mark 8:31-38 or Mark 9:2-9.

From these readings comes a theme of covenant, promise, and faith. From it also comes this verse in Romans 4:16b-17: He [Abraham] is the father of us all. As it is written: “I [God] have made you a father of many nations.” He is our father in the sight of God, in whom he believed—-the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not.

The God who calls into being things that were/are not. For me, this phrase is worth holding onto forever, this is a game changing verse.

But, what is even more intriguing is the crossover of events and messages that I experienced today. First, in church, our pastor started a new series on praying boldly, which means to pray the big things, the larger than life prayers. If those prayers come to fruition, there is no doubt that God is in the results. Elijah was known for these kinds of prayers. And like Abraham’s faith, it’s believing God can bring things that are not, into existence.

Secondly, I went to Voices of Light: the Passion of Joan of Arc, an oratorio with Silent Film presented by the Baltimore Symphony, the Baltimore Choral Arts Society, and four soloists. The original music was composed by Richard Einhorn who was also present at the concert and introduced afterwards. The film, from 1928, was directed by Carol Theodor Dreyer and starred French actress, Renee Jeanne Falconetti, who, incidentally, never acted in another film after this one. The film was based on the actual court record of questions that religious authorities asked Joan D’Arc and her subsequent answers. And although her story ends in her death at the stake, her short life, driven by her voices and visions from God, crowned a king (Charles VII) and turned an army in despair into hope. Her faith was so authentically depicted, I could only weep at her inner battle. We saw her fears and faith seeking dominance.

Can I walk with such faith? Can I pray boldly? Can I challenge my fears and overcome them with my faith? Can I trust in the covenant I have made with God through the Christ?

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We tend to forget that our behaviors are being scrutinized. Not so much by casual acquaintances and co-workers (although somewhat), but mostly by the children and teenagers in our lives. They don’t look like they are even paying attention. Don’t be fooled.

II Chronicles 34:3
In the eighth year of his reign, while he [Josiah] was still young [16 years old], he began to seek the God of his father David. In his twelfth year he began to purge Judah and Jerusalem of high places, Asherah poles and idols.

Josiah was the grandson of Manasseh, one of the most notorious kings to rule Judah. Manasseh ruled for 55 years and up until his last years, played havoc with the country doing everything he could to destroy the foundations of faith through mockery, idol worship, and decadent priests and priestesses who proselytized for other gods. He even sacrificed his own children to these gods. But in his last years, Manasseh was overthrown and taken to Babylon with a ring in his nose. He was humbled. In that place, he sought out his one true God who heard him and restored his to throne. This was an abrupt about face, a transformation.

Who was watching? A little boy named Josiah who was just old enough to understand, just old enough to absorb the impact, just old enough to remember.

There was another who saw the change, Manasseh’s son Amon who became king after him. But Amon did not believe in the change in his father and he pushed Judah back toward the pagan gods for two years before he was assassinated. Apparently, there were others who had watched Manasseh’s metamorphosis and believed.

When young kings come to power (Josiah was only eight when he was crowned), there is usually a regent who handles the daily affairs and instruction of the boy-king. This person is not named but we can extrapolate his presence. Whoever he was, he set a standard that set Josiah on a different path, that gave him a thirst for knowing the God of his forefathers.

My children never knew me before I walked with God. They never saw those years of transition from living a degenerate life to living in God through the Holy Spirit. But I know many people whose children and grandchildren have seen the adults in their lives take a shift for good.

It is never too late to change. The children are watching.

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