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Posts Tagged ‘hope’

Prepare a Room for Me

Posted in Eastertide, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 27, 2011| 1 Comment »

Empty Room by Tom Burke

Believing in a future is part of the faith package. We can’t know what that future will actually hold for us, but that does not preclude us from embracing all the possibilities. So much of tomorrow hinges on today.

Philemon 20
And one thing more: Prepare a guest room for me, because I hope to be restored to you in answer to your prayers.

Paul believed he would be cut loose from prison. He asked his friends and his followers to believe the same thing, despite the circumstances.

I can function fairly well in this part of the equation, but I’m not so good when that future I had prayed about, asked for and even envisioned, doesn’t happen. I am disappointed. This is a trap for me.

Intellectually, I understand what it should be. I can preach about it and I can teach about. I can offer all kinds of advice, quotations, and scripture references. Honest, I get it. But the reality of living the other answer is not always my best day.

Instead of disappointment, when the alternate future presents itself, I need to joyfully envelop it and give thanks because God, all sovereign, heard my prayer and took my future onto a different way. When I don’t get “out of prison,” when I don’t get the job, when my kid doesn’t go to college, when my project is not accepted, when . . . when . . . when, it’s no less intentional from the God perspective.

I’m reading a book by Steven Furtick called Sun Stand Still. He’s a young, exuberant pastor from Charlotte, North Carolina, who planted a church that grew into the thousands in a very short time. He’s all about audacious prayers and expecting God to do impossible things. He has seen such prayers answered every day. His faith is infectious. He challenges his church to do the same, like Paul, he says, “do as I do, believe as I believe, trust as I trust.”

Have a I become too jaded in my walk to drum up this kind of enthusiasm? I don’t know. It’s not that I don’t believe God can do great and wondrous acts. God can and does. But I want to be able to walk on through despite the outcomes. I want to have a faith that isn’t wrapped around the answers. Because, quite honestly, my requests are not always in the best interests of the whole picture; I know that instinctively. I can only dream my dream and put my desires out there. But I could be way off.

When I was younger and went through those terrible years of barrenness, I came to a peace when I accepted the reality of my body. It was no less God’s plan and, in the end, we built a family through adoption, three kids who didn’t know that God had prepared a room for them here.

Everything is connected, every dream, every future, every room. Keep me mindful Lord, when I step into the room prepared for me today, that I don’t forsake it just because it’s not painted the color I had imagined or it’s not furnished with the expected furniture or populated by certain people.

Help me dream and even dream big still, but help me engage in today fully as well. Today is part of yesterday’s dream.

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Pure Knows Pure

Posted in Lent, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 18, 2011| 1 Comment »

A Pure Heart painted by Jan Oliver

Is it true? Do the pure of heart recognize pure motives in another person? Or, even more mysterious, can the pure find something pure in anyone? Is it another way of thinking about the “sacred other?” How sorrowful, then, to dwell in the opposite world, a type of hell surely, where nothing is pure.

Titus 1:15
To the pure, all things are pure, but to those who are corrupted and do not believe, nothing is pure. In fact, both their minds and consciences are corrupted.

I was quite moved today while listening to the audio book of Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese when a minor character, Deepak, a 5th year resident doctor who has been close to completing his residency many times but has, time after time, been cut out by the system, speaks to his young intern, Marion. Finally, circumstances take a turn for Deepak, his first real hope in ten years that things will work out. He shares his long-standing belief that good does triumph over evil, that hard work and honesty and integrity do prevail along with patience and long suffering. He is so clearly a good man, a humble man who loves his work and believes in this “power of good.” He is of the pure heart variety, and I found him remarkably drawn, this character in the book felt real and knowable.

The pure of heart do suffer because of those who do not recognize them. Those pure-hearted ones are taken advantage of; they are often swept aside; they are maligned in their silence.

In our small town, it is a political season in which a mayor will be elected (or re-elected) and a city council re-populated with new or old faces. The rhetoric is flying and I wonder, are there pure hearts among them? Can I still my own heart long enough to recognize them? Can I get past my own judgmentalism and pre-conceived notions? Can I tap into my small spot of purity where the Holy Spirit dwells within and where truth can be uncovered?

I am also in the vortex of another political storm, where integrities are coming into question, where truths are unclear, where memories have become short-sighted. And today, I realized, sorrowfully, that my friends may continue to be maligned because corrupted hearts may not recognize them. And despite the purity I can see; it does not give revelation to others. At least, for now. But like my sweet doctor Deepak, a time will come when purity of heart and motive will emerge. I must believe that too.

Just yesterday, I discussed with new friends how we cannot know the ways of God’s hand. What may appear as defeat on the outside, may be victory within. What plays out in sorrow now, may reveal a greater glory later. I must hold to this understanding.

After all, Jesus modeled this same scenario. He was betrayed, wrongly sentenced, and crucified. Most of his followers were broken and dismayed. Their cause for good appeared broken. They looked at the circumstances in 3-D only, not knowing that other dimensions were turning upside down. They allowed the corrupt to veil their hope.

We must stand fast. The pure of heart must hold to this: Sunday’s coming.

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Encouragement & Strength

Posted in Ordinary Time, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on February 23, 2011| 2 Comments »

Pray for encouragement and strength because it is these two elements that give what is needed to “stand firm and hold fast” [vs 2:15]. So simple: deep power comes from encouragement. I know this, but I don’t use it nearly enough . . . for myself.

II Thessalonians 2:16-17
May our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and by his grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope, encourage your hearts and strengthen you in every good deed and word.

I’m pretty good at encouraging others, particularly in a work environment. I believe in extolling the virtues of my staff and acknowledging a job well done. That’s important. And I mean it. I do appreciate the work, whether great or small, that each person contributes to the process.

I am not as good with myself. I hear the other voice instead, that internal condemnation voice. Even when everything goes well, if there is one flaw or one mistake, the experience can be ruined for me. I push hard. And the voice is good at pointing out my errors, flaws, and missteps.

Worse still, I don’t accept encouragement from others very well either, even though I need it. I crave it. But I don’t believe in its authenticity. I may cast off encouragement because I don’t trust the one who is offering it or I don’t trust the intentions or that person’s knowledge of the circumstances.

It’s a sad situation. People like me, people with a lot of natural confidence don’t appear to need encouragement, but that’s all a sham.

So, here are some things that need to happen, to change in me. First, I must use more energy to disregard the evil voice and allow the Holy Spirit to encourage me and thereby receive strength from within. This is the most important source. Secondly, I must open the doors of my heart to the words of others and look for the good in them. Lastly, although I do speak encouragement and strength and even pray for those in my care, I am not as good at encouraging those above me. It’s the same trap. I have assumed they don’t need it from me just as others have assumed it about me.

Praise and acknowledgment are easy. Prayers of encouragement for others even easier, but will gain even more power if followed by words and practices of good will.

If you are reading this post today, I thank you and want you to know that all will be well. There is hope today because God is sovereign. There is a moment still to come that will speak love to you. There is a person whose touch will remind you of your value. There is a breath. And from all of these things, gain courage to stand firm and hold fast to the truth of your worth.

Live loved.

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Embittered Children

Posted in Ordinary Time, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on January 19, 2011| Leave a Comment »

What causes bitterness? Here are some words that bubbled up this morning: disappointment, betrayal, endless battles, anger, unforgiveness, false hope, lies, abandonment, and grace withheld. Unfortunately, I know these words too well, as victim and as perpetrator.

Colossians 3:21
Fathers [and mothers] do not embitter your children, or they will become discouraged.

I am known for big: big ideas, big mouth, big mistakes, big emotions. When I express myself, it’s with a passion. When I grieve and cry, it floods the room. When I slip and fall, I carry lots of stuff (and people) with me. It’s part of who I started out to be and who I have become.

As a child, that bigness came out of wanting to be seen. My aging father was kind to me, and yet, as a caregiver to a toddler, he rendered me invisible and I lived long hours alone in a playpen. He drank heavily during the day and it took a lot to get his attention.

As a young adult, I found some respite in the theater. Everything in that world was bigger and deeper than everyday life; I could safely feel and express lots of different feelings in an array of contrived and controlled moments. I could be seen without harm.

On the mother side, I was expected to perform as well, but perfectly: excellent grades (like my brother), success in all ventures, and work that was respected and secure. When my brother went on with life (college, work, etc.), I continued to feel bound to my mother who was doing her best to provide for us on her own. I wanted escape and felt guilty for it. Resentment grew steadily.

It takes a lot of personal strength to fight the onslaught of bitterness. This is an unexpected benefit from a relationship with the Holy Spirit, where individual courage is married to the supernatural, where holy forgiveness can wash away the bloody colors of bitter ordeals. But it’s a process.

One would think that living through some of this as a child I would be better prepared to give grace to my own children. But old habits die hard and I see now where I put many of the same pressures on them that were put on me. Not in all cases, of course. I gave love and attention and safety. I gave hope and forgiveness. But I also poured on expectations. I have seen the seeds germinate as my children come into their own. They don’t want to disappoint and yet, they feel it all the same. Sustained disappointment leads to bitterness. This I know. Is there still time?

And so I pray, today, to consciously release them and myself from these chains: to live loved.

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Contented Doing & Being

Posted in Advent, tagged , , , , , , on December 23, 2010| Leave a Comment »

Photo by KarenBeth

Oh contentment, you elusive partner. I have lost you again and you have become a stranger. What happened to us? We were together only a few weeks ago.

Philippians 4:12-13
I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.

Slow down. I’ve got to slow down. No, it’s more than a slow-down.

Today, I read a newspaper article about stuttering and how stutterers feel the world moves on without them as they are caught in a vortex of a word that refuses to be spoken, caught in the mouth, unyielding.

Chaos and busyness are the same for me. I am on a treadmill and I am making no progress forward. I am working hard, but the world continues to whirl past me. No matter how fast I move, everything else moves faster. I am a life stutterer, repeating my mistakes, stumbling at another threshold.

Contentment has two parts: stopping without remorse and watching without guilt.

When I stop, time and situations continue to spin. I understand it all intellectually. At first, I am overwhelmed and then slowly, the longer I stay in a moment of stillness, I can differentiate tasks, colors, and sounds. As I tolerate this state a little longer, clarity and priorities do emerge. This is when I can let go of non-essentials.

I’ve been through this process before. But I cannot seem sustain it.

When I am doing, I must “do” 100%, and not think or plan the next thing, the next event, the next task. There can be joy in the doing if it is the right activity for the moment, fully experienced.

And sometimes, there is no doing at all. But I find these times the hardest. I see what needs to be done around me: the unfinished tasks of yesterday, the collected piles of trouble and responsibility. How can I “just be” when there is so much “to do?”

There is no going back, I can only go forward. This morning, I stole the hour to pray and write. It’s grounding. I can start with this. It’s all I have for now.

Take a breath. Exhale slowly. And when I stand up from this chair, I will be gentle with my stuttering life. I will give the next thing time to form fully. It’s a day and it’s part of my story.

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Crucified in Weakness

Posted in Ordinary Time, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on September 6, 2010| Leave a Comment »

Did the ones who stood vigil at the cross really believe Jesus would die? I don’t think so. They expected a reprieve or a last minute miracle. After all, this was the man who stilled a storm, gave sight to the blind and raised a dead man. Was this his final display of strength in weakness?

II Corinthians 13:4
For to be sure, he was crucified in weakness, yet he lives by God’s power. Likewise, we are weak in him, yet by God’s power we will live with him to serve you.

It’s all there in the crucifixion story: die to live, weaken to strengthen, submit to rule, forgive to trust, suffer to heal, and so forth. These opposites trail after me. When am I going to get it?

Last night I had a dream about a very large black dog that charged toward me and instead of running away or standing stock still, I squatted down, held out my arms to hug him and nuzzle him. I seriously doubt this technique would work in real life. But in the dream, the dog responded and simply rubbed my face and neck the same way my big Snooki dog (a black lab mix) does. It’s a start.

Weakness can be a choice for the good of the moment.

For me, this means saying, “You’re right,” more often or “I take full responsibility for that mistake,” or “I was wrong.” It means listening even when I disagree. It means giving opportunities to others that I would like to have. It can mean serving without recognition or diligence without admiration. It can mean accepting surprises and unintended consequences with grace. It can mean a certain lack of control.

My big joke about myself has always been that I prefer “planned spontaneity.” When an old friend who was a 5th grade science teacher told me she would run experiments in class without knowing the outcome, I paled. How often have I told people, “I’ll do it!” not because I wanted to help but because I didn’t trust anyone else to “do it right.”

That’s a shame to me now. It’s time to respond differently. It’s time to let go of my controlling nature. It’s time to stop previewing the future, planning every step, and manipulating outcomes.

I’m not so sure that even Jesus knew how things would play out. But his trust in God was rooted deeply and in the end, even in fear and doubt, he died with hope. Was he surprised when he found himself back in the world? We’ll never know. But he certainly walked about in new understanding.

This is what can happen to us as well. Once we let go of “our way,” we are able to discover another way that is God-breathed.

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Circle of Generosity

Posted in Ordinary Time, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on August 18, 2010| 3 Comments »

Generosity is an expression of thanks to God. When I give to someone in need, that act of giving, in itself, is thanking God — for my having enough to give. And if this is true, what I am I saying when I don’t give?

II Corinthians 9:12
This service that you perform is not only supplying the needs of God’s people but is also overflowing in many expressions of thanks to God.

I have put too much focus on the traditional acts of thanksgiving: saying prayers at meals, lifting my hands in church, saying the Lord’s prayer each day, giving thanks when I have a close call in a car. But I haven’t considered my actions as a form of thanks. I haven’t thought of loving others as a form of thanks.

There is a description of our relationships being like a cross, the vertical is our relationship with God and the horizontal is our relationship with others. And although I have seen and know that my vertical relationship with God enhances my ability to love others. But I had never considered the opposite. My outpouring of self into others touches God by confirming my trust and faith in His ability to keep me full.

That’s the idea of it anyway.

Instead, I see my fears block my giving. I’m not just talking about money either. Of course, this is included. And I do fear the loss of security that money provides. But I am placing my hope for security in the wrong place. It’s a habit from my own poverty growing up in the inner city.

I am grateful for my comforts. I do thank God verbally each day for the abundance in which we live. And yet, today, I am confronted with a greater truth: give thanks by letting go. Build faith. Build trust. Give out of the abundance.

And, in the circle of generosity, it all comes back again.

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