Just Enough Grace for Today

Big God Smack Down

2011-07-31T14:18:00.004-05:00

I just read 4 blog posts by a friend of ours who has taken in a foster baby. She is very playful in her writing and has inspired me to be a bit playful as well; at least in the title of this post.

Today would have been a great day to preach. The passage was the story in Genesis 32 where Jacob wrestles with the man/God/angel of God (depending on your translation and inclination). Somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 years ago, I first related to this story of a person who tried to micro-manage God-breathed outcomes.

For me, the pivotal part of the story is when the man/God/angel of God responds to Jacob's request for a blessing with the question, "What is your name?" Jacob answers "Jacob." Now you have to flip back a few pages in Genesis to appreciate this part; or at least this is why it resonates with me. If you look at the passage that records the birth of Jacob and his fraternal twin Esau (Gen. 25:26), we are told that Jacob follows his brother out of the womb, "grasping" at his brother's heel as he makes his exit. Apparently "grasps the heel" is a Hebrew idiom for "he deceives," which Esau confirms after Jacob tricks him out of his rightful blessing as the eldest and Esau replies, "Isn't he rightly named Jacob?" (Gen. 27:36).

As we continue to follow Jacob to the land of his uncle Laban and see the "tactics" he uses to influence the color of the lambs born to his uncle, which determines whether they will belong to Jacob or Laban, we understand that Jacob's "deception" is about acting on what he believes to be God's will; bringing it about by his own means. Let's face it, Jacob is a self-made man, but God doesn't need anyone's help to bring God's will about, and that seems to be one of the lessons behind this Big God Smack Down wrestling match.

I was reading a Melodie Beattie book this morning that confirmed much of the same thing ... that when we tell God what we want and need and then surrender those very needs and desires back to God, we speak the language of letting go. Conversely, when we pursue what we want and need as if our efforts are the only thing that will bring them about, we do nothing but exercise control, sometimes to the point of appearing a bit obsessed. Beattie's point is that in acknowledging what we want and need and then letting go, we are in essence saying to God, "...But you know what God? I don't want or need anything badly enough to have to be in control of receiving it. That the one thing I don't want."

This particular habit of giving God a helping hand is standard operating procedure for most humans. I think it has something to do with one of the biggest misquotes in Biblical history: "God helps those who help themselves." Far be it from me to put much stock in Wikipedia, but ... here's what that little website has to say on this pesky phrase:

The phrase "God helps those who help themselves" is a popular motto which emphasizes the importance of self-initiative. The phrase originated in ancient Greece, occurring as the moral to one of Aesop's Fables, and later in the great tragedy authors of ancient Greek drama. It has been commonly attributed to Benjamin Franklin, however the modern English wording appears earlier in Algernon Sidney's work. It is mistaken by many to be a Bible quote, however the phrase does not occur in the Bible. Some Christians have criticized it as actually against the Bible's basic message of God's grace.

(I know some people will cluck their tongues and roll their eyes to read a Wiki quote, so go ahead and Google it yourself and see the results. Bottom line, it's not in the Bible.)

Oh, but I digress!

Apparently, Jacob believed that God helps those who help themselves; or at least that God needed some assistance now and again. It is not until he had this encounter with the man/God/angel of God at the Jabok River that Jacob finally comes to understand that we all have the choice of wrestling with God or wrestling without God. For whatever reason, Jacob has decided that being a self-made man and being terribly clever and being willing to impersonate his brother, etc., to achieve ends that were God's anyways is not all that it was cracked up to be. "Sure, I know how to get stuff on my own, but God ... Ok, seriously, I really would prefer to have you in charge of the blessings." To me, that is what Jacob is saying or implying in this refusal to let go.

"Coincidentally" (I always put quotes around this word when speaking on spiritual matters), Richard Rohr wrote a post on his email devotional yesterday about this same passage from Genesis. Rohr writes, "When we struggle with God we always lose, and only later do we know that such losing was, in fact, winning. That is what we mean by 'falling upward.' Wrestling with God, with life, and with ourselves is necessary. The blessing usually comes in a wounding of some sort and for most of us it is an entire life of limping along to finally see the true and real blessing in our life."

Losing that is winning. Our Pastor said something similar in sharing a story of a man who is asked by a long-time friend, "Do you still wrestle with the devil?" Oh no, the man answers, now I wrestle with God. The friend replies, "Wrestling with God? How do you ever hope to win?" The man concludes most poignantly, Oh, I don't. In fact, I hope to lose....

Isn't it right that we are all named "Jacob?" Don't we all need to stop manipulating and controlling and live as if we really believe that God's ways and plans are far bigger and better than our own?

I know I'm not through with the Big God Smack Downs of my life. In fact, I'm relieved to know that God is always so willing to engage. In those moments when I resist hearing God's will, or am impatient for God to act, I need to start wrestling and hold on for dear life, until I resolve to lose.

Working it all through the dough

2011-07-09T10:17:00.005-05:00

Yesterday I was reading from the lectionary for this Sunday. The suggested gospel passage comes from Matthew 13. I was supposed to stop at verse 30, but my eyes continued down the page, finishing on this nugget in verse 33: He told them still another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into a large amount of flour until it worked all through the dough."

As is my habit, I closed my Bible and meditated for a few minutes on a particular phrase from the 17-verse passage I had read. I found myself gravitating toward "...until it worked all through the dough."

I have only made bread a few times in my life, so it's hard for me to completely appreciate this parable; this metaphor of bread dough and yeast. But I started to think about other baked items I have made and the importance to the finished product of "working" all the ingredients together. In fact, I was making waffles this morning and just like clock work, when I got to the bottom of the batter, there was some "lumps" of waffle mix that somehow had not gotten mixed into the batter. With waffles, it's not so bad, but with cakes or even pie filling, the chunks of flour or egg or shortening that somehow escape the blending process can reak havoc on the taste and/or texture of the finished product.

What's the big deal about not working yeast through bread dough? I googled it of course, and here's what I found out. I expected to read that the dough simply will not rise as much if your kneading efforts are lacking, but apparently, according to this web site, it lackluster kneading results in bread with a "coarser" texture. (Not terribly appetizing, but not the end of the world either.)

Clearly, Jesus is applying this yeast/dough metaphor to the idea of the Kingdom of Heaven (Kingdom of God) among us. In the book Living our Beliefs, author Kenneth Carder presents the Methodist understanding of the Kingdom of God as follows (slightly paraphrased):

• The Kingdom of God, announced and inaugurated by Jesus Christ, has tangible social consequences in society.
• The Kingdom is both inward in the heart and outward in the world.
• The Kingdom is both a present reality – wherever God’s will is done – and a future hope.

I cannot with 100% confidence declare to you that Jesus was speaking exclusively of the "inward" or "outward" kingdom of God, but I can tell you that I chose for my meditation to focus on the inward Kingdom ... the Kingdom being formed in me.

So, many paragraphs later, I return to my original line of thinking. What does it mean in the "inward Kingdom" sense to "work it all through the dough?" A few weeks ago, the message I preached in church included the statement, "God will have first place in your heart, or God will have nothing at all." "First place" hints a little at what it may mean to work it all through the dough, but I think there is more.

You hear people talking about being a 7-day-a-week Christian versus a Sunday-morning Christian. Certainly, the Christian faith proclaims the notion that our faith should "show up" in our daily lives. The Methodist church in particular was built on the concept that the life of faith includes being personally transformed into the image of Christ and being an agent of transformation in the world.

I like that word ... transform. I think it translates nicely to the yeast/dough concept of our inward kingdom. If a young child were to ask you, "What does yeast do when you add it to bread?" it would be accurate to answer, "It makes the dough rise, honey." But a more precise reply would be that the yeast transforms the dough.

Usually, yeast is used to denote sin, not the Kingdom of God, so this metaphor of Jesus' is particularly interesting. Yet for a culture that spent a great deal of time making bread (and if you think about it, considering it was women who carried out this chore an undeniable 100% of the time, I suppose we can surmise that Jesus took particular care to address women in his teaching), the idea of inward transformation was confusing enough that a powerful, clear metaphor was necessary. The legalists in Jesus' day insisted that it was outward action that mattered most ... fasting, tithing, giving alms, sacrificing, observing purification and cleanliness rituals, praying; that is the way to salvation and transformation. But Jesus challenged this thinking, telling the religious leaders point blank, it is what comes out of a man that defiles him, not what goes in, pointing the way to the concept and importance of inward transformation.

It would be trite and simplistic for me to conclude, "So ... I asked myself, how can I incorporate my faith into every area of my life? That's the message here ... working the yeast into all of the dough." I don't think that is it, because that sounds like outward concentration, not inward transformation.

I guess I don't have the answer per se. I know that God is doing a work in me, in each of us, every day. I know that I cannot compartmentalize my soul, sectioning off pieces that can and cannot be worked through. I have to give God access to every nook and cranny of my inner being and I confess, I'm not sure how to "do" that. Maybe it is more a matter of "intention" than "action." Thomas a Kempis writes, "You must purify the eye of the intention, then, that it may be steadfast and right, and you must keep it fixed upon Me, far above all objects that might come between us." Whether I succeed outwardly or not, then, my intention should always be to focus my gaze upon God, upon the image of Christ.

I have a yoga DVD that I use from time to time. The yogi often speaks of "gazing with soft eyes" when describing where your eyes should be pointed in one particular movement or another. Perhaps the legalist gaze with hard eyes; determined, self-willed stares that puff up their egos but do little to profit their souls. Perhaps this "soft eyes" gazes keeps one's intentions pointed in the right direction, but suggests that softness and gentleness are better agents of transformation in the Kingdom of God.

Working it all through. Kneading the dough. It does not connote a gentle process to me. Yet I imagine an experienced bread maker is very gentle in the treatment of the dough, concerned for the quality and taste and texture of the finished product. I think we can assume that God's actions toward us in this kneading process are likewise.

Gratitude

2011-07-04T08:50:00.002-05:00

I cracked a joke on a post I wrote yesterday about how I sometimes imagine God looking down at what I am doing and saying, "Oh thank MYSELF that Tammy is on the job." That brought up an interesting question...

Does God feel gratitude?

We like making God in our own image, meaning we like to assign to God an entire gamut of human emotion. What exactly IS gratitude and does God experience it?

Enter dictionary.com, which gives the definition for gratitude as follows: "A feeling of thankfulness or appreciation, as for gifts or favors."

Now why would I even question whether God feels gratitude? On some level, it seems to imply "surprise," a certain "not knowing." You feel gratitude when someone does something unexpected for you, for example, but nothing is unexpected to God, is it?

As I was typing that last sentence, I thought about one of the stories of creation recorded in the book of Genesis. It says after each day of creation, God said to God's self that what God had created was good. Is that gratitude ... or appreciation?

We feel grateful for the gifts and abilities we have ... sometimes even for our inabilities and weaknesses, when we recognize the growth that comes from them. If all that we have is a gift from God, would God feel grateful for a gift or ability or quality and strength that God had given us? Again, I'm not saying God does not appreciate creation, but is that the same as gratitude.

OK, dictionary.com defines appreciation as follows: "The act of estimating the qualities of things and giving them their proper value." Obviously, God sees the quality of each of us and gives us value, more value than we would ever give to ourselves, or expect to receive from others. But is that gratitude?

A month or so ago, my husband and I read The Shack by William P. Young (we're a bit behind the times). The character in the book who represents God the Father consistently says the phrase "I'm especially fond of him/her" when referring to different people. (The interesting thing is that God the Father says this about every person in the book when talking about them.)

Is being especially fond of someone the same as gratitude? I mean, I can imagine God looking at his creation and smiling and nodding and saying, "Yep, still good ... I'm especially fond of that one" but "Thank MYSELF for her..." seems to imply a certain dependence, which I don't believe God has on any of us.

Does it make God seem mean or cranky or any less unloving to suggest that God does not experience gratitude? God loves us, God appreciates us, God is especially fond of each of us ... but grateful?

I think I have committed a lot of words without really coming to any formal conclusions. Perhaps I can say again that I will not be so presumptuous as to believe that God is grateful to the point of dependence on me.

"Thank MYSELF you're done writing this post!"

Doubt

2011-07-03T17:54:00.004-05:00

I can't help it ... sometimes I doubt myself. Just like the dry and balmy Houston weather and 100+ degree temperatures that have us crying, begging, pleading for a relief from the drought, I feel a certain spiritual drought going on.

A few weeks ago, while preparing a lesson on prayer, I was reading up on the importance of silence in prayer. Some people think that silence is all about listening (or at least pretending to listen) to God. I agree that we can't listen to God until we shut the heck up, but silence plays another role in our prayer life. Silence, according to Jane Vennar, author of The Way of Prayer, helps us to recognize and honor that God is often our silent companion in life.

God is always there, but God does not always make God's presence known. Heck, half the time, we hardly give God's presence a second thought, satisfied to tool along our chosen paths, but sometimes ... every now and then ... we feel we need some tangible proof of God's presence. And that's when the silence gets to us; or at least that's when it gets to me. I want tangible proof of God's presence and God's tranformation. Instead, I get silence.

Tangible proof. Is that redundant? Proof you can touch, feel, see, hear, taste ... that's what I'm talking about. Things are slowing down or changing or transitioning in the outreach ministry I'm involved in at the church where I work. In fact, if you follow the link in the previous sentence, you will see outdated numbers and activities. (I desperately need to update this section of our church's website.)

Maybe I coasted just a little. Maybe I became complacent. We made a decision about 7 months ago that we (me and a team of 3 other women) could no longer make the "trek" to Bonita House 21 miles away to teach spirituality to the women there. Right around the time that this decision went into effect, one of the client groups that I was ministering to at the closer location down the street up and moved to Bonita House. (Yes, moved to Bonita House.) Here I was saying "we" were too busy and otherwise engaged in ministry to continue at Bonita House and an entire client group of women was pulled out from under us like the proverbial rug. Meanwhile, another new "connection point" that I have been working on for over a year still has not materialized. I just can't seem to get my feet in the door at this place!

I was pondering all of this last week in the midst of a pity party for one and I realized, I was being a little greedy. I thought I had made progress by telling God that I had "accepted" the smaller numbers of women and I was thankful for any "crumbs" I could get. Then the thought hit me (you know ... those thoughts that go BAM in your head like a freight train?) that I needed to practice some gratitude. "Crumbs???" my brain screamed. "Seriously, crumbs? This is a feast. It is God's feast prepared for you, and whether you can see any precious tangible evidence or not, God is still doing significant stuff. Crumbs! Hmph!!!"

A few days later, the after shocks of that freight train went away and I started doubting myself again. (I'm starting to feel a little like Gideon, who kept demanding that God show him "signs" to affirm that he had been called to deliver the Israelites from those menacing Midianites.) I was more or less laying out my fleece this morning as I prayed. I apologized to God for asking for a sign or some kind of confirmation, but I asked anyway.

Now here's the thing ... God is very patient and kind. I mean, no one handed me a piece of fleece at church today covered with dew and said, "Hey, Tammy, is this yours?" but there were things ... stuff ... conversations ... situations ... encounters that felt like God confirming that God wants me around. It is hard to articulate, but it seemed to be there.

Sometimes I get it into my head that God "needs" me to do this stuff. I would never say that out loud (though I did just write it, now didn't I?), but the noise in my head can approach that thought at times. I suppose I believe God is looking down at me and saying, "Oh, thank MYSELF that Tammy is on the job!" Truth be told, I need to do this stuff for my state of mind, my assurance that I am involved in something that matters. In these moments of clarity, I admit that God is pretty darn generous and gracious and merciful to make use of the likes of me to do anything.

Doubt can be paralyzing. It is paralyzing. It is even painful. But more than anything else, it's a little stupid.

I don't always get to see tangible evidence of what God is doing, but if I truly embrace my Methodist faith, then I can believe that I am transformed by the Spirit of God, and used as an agent of transformation in the lives of those whom God puts in my path.

All fleece aside, how amazing is that?

Greedy, but practical...

2011-06-26T16:41:00.003-05:00

We've been doing a study on the 7 deadly sins in my Sunday school class at church (Sinning Like A Christian by William Willimon). Today's sin of the week was greed. We got into some interesting discussion about what greed is really all about.

It's easy to define greed as wanting more and more and more; as in never being satisfied. Likewise, its opposite is being satisfied, not to mention grateful, for what you have. Yet an interesting question arose. If I am a "practical" girl who tends to shop at Target and thrift stores, do I still qualify as greedy? I mean, if I have the means to buy just about anything, but I choose instead to buy something that is "good enough" instead of trendy and expensive, am I still greedy?

It's easy for me to shun expensive cars or $400 purses. That's not how I choose to spend my money. But if I rarely deny myself anything, aren't I just as greedy as the next person whose credit cards are maxed out to the hilt?

When was the last time I told myself "no" to a practical, cheap purchase. I have a couple thrift stores I like to frequent and sometimes I tell myself, "How can you NOT buy an $8 skirt?" Yet maybe saying "no" to myself regardless of the bargain is an important spiritual practice.

If I get the same little thrill from my $10 "resale" sandals with the cute silver buckles as someone buying Jimmie Choos, what's the difference?

I have to admit ... I can be greedy. No, I am greedy. I have more clothes and shoes than I need. I have more food in my cupboard and fridge than I need and we eat meat at nearly every meal. We have five cars (and four drivers at the moment), one that doesn't even run, but we just can't bear to part with it. We keep our AC cool and our showers hot. We water our yard to supplement the drought with drinking water ... can you fathom how outrageous that is to the majority of the rest of the world??

Willimon states in the chapter on greed that we need to learn to say, "enough." How can you NOT buy an $8 skirt? By not buying it, that's how. Give it all away, and don't run out and replace it all with new stuff. Make do ... and experience "want" a little ... just a little.

Practical is nice, but greed ... well, it's really not OK.

Pentecost memories...

2011-06-12T08:58:00.002-05:00

Today is Pentecost Sunday, the day when the Christian church celebrates or remembers the giving of the Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost. We are in Austin and planning on going to church with a friend, Kevin, who is a Lutheran pastor. In fact, he is preaching today.

I had a memory flash through my brain a few minutes ago ... one that has not come to the surface for a very long time. It was on Pentecost Sunday about 28-30 years ago when I was also going to church with Kevin. At that time, I was a student at UT Austin and he was a pre-seminarian at Holy Cross Lutheran College. He invited me to go to church (I think he had his sites set on me, heathen that I was back then). I don't exactly remember how this conversation came about -- perhaps I was reading the worship guide or something -- but at some point I said out loud, "Hmmn, Pentecost Sunday, that's interesting ... I don't think we celebrate that in the Methodist Church." (Even as I type that I laugh out loud.) (Mind you I probably had not been to church in three or four years....)

Kevin got a weird look on his face. In his most polite Kevin voice possible he replied, "Um ... I'm pretty sure all churches celebrate Pentecost." Though a bit skeptical, I took his word for it.

I had gone to church off and on most of my life; nearly every Sunday until my parents divorced when I was 12, and then every-other Sunday after that, on the weekends I spent with my Dad. Once those visits stopped, so did my church attendance. But in college, I started to become a little curious, a little interested again (but only a little...).

I was confirmed in the Methodist church but I think it is more my fault than the church's that I did not know what Pentecost Sunday was. In fact, once my husband and I married and found ourselves working with the youth, I was surprised to read about the second coming in the Bible. "What in the world is THIS all about?" I remember thinking.

I guess my point in all of this is that I have been on quite a faith adventure over the last 30 years. I think I will ask Kevin this morning if he remembers that Sunday so long ago. I'll also tuck it away in my "quick reference." I want to remember that I didn't always know what I know, despite the best efforts of the church. And maybe I still don't know all that much ....

Dwelling place

2011-05-29T20:21:00.003-05:00

After two semesters of Spiritual Formation, one of the habits I formed is that of reading the Sunday lectionary of the United Methodist Church -- a designated collection of passages identified by the powers that be. Many UMC ministers base their sermons each week on one or all of these passages.

Today's lectionary included passages from Acts, Psalms, 1 Peter and the Gospel of John. Although there are several themes or messages to be found in them, the one that resonated with me is that of a dwelling place.

Paul complimented the people of Athens in Acts 17 for being, "very religious in every way" (v. 22). Referring to the many statues of gods and temples that adorned the city, Paul seems to chide the Athenians, telling them, "God does not live in temples built by human hands..." (v. 24).

In other words, we can build all the temples we want for housing our gods, but the God who created the heavens and the Earth and everything in them does not dwell in them.

What might some of these temples be, these structures that house our gods? For some of us, perhaps it is our very residence, which we tear down and build up again, remodeling and redecorating on a regular basis for no other reason than because we can.

Or perhaps our temple where we believe our gods to dwell are our office buildings, our places of employment, those jobs and careers that seem to possess our very soul at times. Oh, how we bow down and worship at the altars we erect in these temples, praying to the gods of corner offices and retirement plans, promotions and titles and year-end bonuses.

Our temples may be our children. Why, think about all the time and energy we invest in building these little structures, hoping they will be smart, talented, polite, obedient, conscientious and hard-working. And why shouldn't they be? We make our gods in our own image! Nothing less will do.

Our temples may be any multitude of material possessions -- that new car, a lake house, a gold watch, a diamond bracelet, the $400 purses that line our closets. Our gods may not dwell in these material temples, but we certainly do.

No, Paul told the Athenians as well as Bible readers today, God does not dwell in temples built by the human hands. God dwells in temples built by God. I say temples with an "s" because the scriptures seem to suggest these temples can be found in two places: in the heart of God and in the heart of people.

"You have allowed us to fall into the net;

You have watched us reap all that we have sown;

we went through fire and through water,

Yet You have brought us through our pain and into your dwelling place.

I enter your Heart surrendered to Love;

I commend my soul into your keeping;

all that my lips uttered, all that my mouth promised when I was in trouble and pain,

I offer up to You;

I abandon myself into your hands."

(Psalm 66:11-15, from Nan Merrill's Psalms for Praying)

Chances are if you read these verses in your favorite Bible translation, they will look different from Merrill's version. However, I find her image of us being transported from our pain into God's dwelling place, God's very heart, to be beautiful and refreshing

Jesus said something similar as recorded in John's gospel. He issues a beautiful promise to his disciples as he prepares them for his impending departure from this world. Listen to (or rather read) what Jesus said:

"And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever -- the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him.

But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you.

I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.

Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me.

Because I live, you also will live.

On that day you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you."

(John 14:16-20, New International Version)

Look again at the words of Jesus. The world cannot accept this other Counselor, this Spirit of Truth, because it neither sees him nor knows him. Why? Because the world keeps looking for him in temples built by human hands.

Yet the disciples are assured that they will know this Counselor; heck, they already know him. Jesus says, "he lives with you and will be in you." In us ... a temple built not by human hands, but one built by God. That is where God dwells.

1 Peter 2:15 reminds us, "But in your hearts (you know, that place where God -- the Spirit of Truth ... the Counselor -- dwells?) set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give a reason for the hope you have."

I'm sorry, what did you say? What is the reason for the hope I have? Well, it's all about dwelling places, you see, dwelling places where Jesus can be found in the Father, and I am in Jesus and Jesus is in me. Oh yes, it's a mighty big room, this space set apart in my heart; this dwelling place in the heart of God, where Love lives and flourishes; this God-built temple.

Did you know....?

2011-05-29T13:00:00.003-05:00

"Did you know that someone at your church is selling cigarettes??"

That was the question the tech asked me after church today. I had stopped her to tell her about some incidents the ladies had shared about "men in vans" propositioning them on the way to the bus stop. I wanted her to carry the message back to the facility, so they would call the police and request a stepped-up police patrol. What I got was, "Did you know that someone at your church is selling cigarettes??"

Funny, yes, I did know that ... but let me explain... (This is a situation of darned if you do, darned if you don't...)

About 2 years ago, we began offering a Sunday school class called the New Day class. It is 12 step style in nature, with the intent to provide a class where individuals can explore their spirituality in the context of recovery. (That's church speak for it's a class for the rehab ladies.)

When we first launched the class, we began picking up a particular client group from the rehab facility that had more privileges than the other ladies. They were permitted to go places without being escorted by a tech (think prison guard). Yet what we discovered is that many of the women were so anxious about waiting for someone, anyone to show up that might offer them a cigarette, they would stall out on going to class.

So what did we do? We started providing the cigarettes. One cigarette before class, one cigarette after (and for those of you who have not bought cigarettes lately, that is a generous gesture on the part of the volunteers who were teaching the New Day class). Soon, "Where's the cigarettes?" became the question of the day. The volunteers began to question their own actions, wondering if giving women cigarettes ... especially women who were pregnant ... was such a great idea. Somehow, it became selling the cigarettes for 25 cents a piece. The money was placed in the offering plate. This went on for another 6-8 months, but the same dynamic kept showing up ... "Where's the cigarettes?"

Recently, the volunteers decided they were tired of dealing cigarettes. This was NOT the ministry they had signed up for. I agreed. We were not really doing the ladies any favors in the long run. So naturally, the first Sunday we no longer provide cigarettes, everyone is making noise about selling cigarettes.

I was out by the smoke cans looking for a young woman who was supposed to be baptized. Another woman approached me instead. "Are you the lady who sells the cigarettes? I REALLY need a cigarette today!" No, sorry, it's not me, I say.

I walk inside. My daughter is selling kolaches. She calls me over. "Mom, one of the ladies asked Ms. Judy if she sells cigarettes. She said someone at the church is selling cigarettes...." I groaned, rolled my eyes, and told her not to worry, I would explain later.

As the service was starting, it appeared that lots of people were missing. I wandered out to the smoke cans. There they were, getting those last few drags.

Darn cigarettes!

And finally after church, the coup d'etat from the tech ... "Did you know that someone from your church is selling cigarettes?"

Did I know that? For the record, we were selling cigarettes, but we're not any more. And for the record, I have no idea if selling cigarettes or not selling cigarettes is the right action. I have no idea what Jesus would do. I have no idea if the concept of sanctuary ... accepting people as they are ... means providing them cigarettes. I have no idea if this is the equivalent of giving them a cool cup of water. I have no idea what it is like to be addicted to nicotine or any other chemical substance. I have no idea of the hell someone is going through when they can't find anyone who will give them a cigarette.

What I do know is that love is more powerful than anything else.

One of the women who has embodied an attitude of entitlement to the nth degree about this whole cigarette situation, who has complained and grumbled, who has lagged behind when I have tried to steer the women to Sunday school or worship, who has gotten under my skin, who has acted out and cussed and said things "in my presence" that she probably should not have, who has begged, "Please, Ms. Tammy, don't get me in trouble" when I point blank asked her, what is going on with you today? -- this woman needs to be loved. And so during the "passing of the peace" in church today, I made my way to her, gave her a big side arm hug and told her, I love you, Betty. "I love you too, Ms. Tammy," she replied.

I don't know how that encounter made Betty feel, but it made me feel as if all was right with the world. I needed to tell her that I loved her, to exercise love toward her, because I was succumbing to a lot of other thoughts and words and actions that were quite the opposite of love.

All this fuss about cigarettes. It's kind of silly when you think about it.

Is this the best you can do?

2011-05-28T16:45:00.002-05:00

I was coming home from the gym on Friday morning, listening to KSBJ, the local Christian radio station. Sometimes between songs they have "spots" from different theologians and counselors, etc. Friday was no different. A woman representing some Christian women's group (I'm not trying to protect the identity ... I honestly don't remember) began talking about the various hair products she puts in her hair every morning and how much she depends on these products -- detanglers, mousse, extra body gels, hairspray, etc. -- for her hair to look its very best. "My dependence on God is like this..." she spewed.

I immediately reached for the volume knob and turned off the radio. Seriously, comparing our dependence on God to our dependence on hair products? Is that the best you can do.

I thought about this a bit. I thought about Jesus' use of parables. But for the life of me, I could not imagine Jesus saying, "The Kingdom of God is like a woman with frizzy hair..."

Sorry, that's just not working for me.

True wisdom doesn't have to work that hard. Meaningful, profound statements about who we are and who God is usually come from unexpected sources ... from people like John.

John is a young adult at my church who has been diagnosed as autistic and bi-polar. His mom is in the handbell choir, which placed him at a recent church event where the handbells were playing. I noticed he had a small carrying case with a nintendo DS and some games. I asked him to show me which games he had. He took them out and held them up proudly, smiling. Then I said, "Oh, I see you have some headphones, too. Those are really nice."

"Yeah, I use the headphones because I hear voices."

I was taken back by his honesty and non-plussed manner of speaking, not to mention his stroke of genius. He hears voices he doesn't want to hear, so he puts on his headphones. I love it.

How do I get John on the radio? That's what I want to know. I'll take his matter-of-fact truth to metaphors involving hair gel any day.

Back to the Middle

2011-05-22T17:44:00.003-05:00

I do some of my best thinking while I'm working in the yard. Maybe that is because no one bothers me when I'm working in the yard, lest I ask them to help!

Anyway, nearly six years ago, when I started working in recovery ministry, I was so certain, SO CERTAIN, that God rescued people when their lives were all screwed up. Oh my goodness, I have prayed my head off for some people in my life and the messes they have gotten themselves into. I'll bet I prayed for my Dad and his financial woes for 20 years or better. I prayed for a relative who had mental health issues. I prayed for people who were seriously ill. I prayed for people who did not know God and had no interest in knowing God. I prayed for friends and relatives and acquaintances for every reason under the sun. For all that praying, I'm not sure many of my prayers were "answered."

Then I started working with women whose lives were really messed up. And worse yet, some of them came back for 2nd and 3rd rehabs. When was God going to fix all these messes anyway? Couldn't God hear my prayers, for goodness sake? What's a person to do when it seems as if their prayers come to nothing?

Well, I won't go into whether God answered these various prayers or not. God does not need me to come to God's defense. I will just say that I moved my mind and faith wayyyyyy over to the other end of the spectrum. I said, "God is not going to sprinkle magic fairy dust over your life and make everything OK." In fact, I'll bet I said that as many times as I prayed for my Dad's finances. Somehow in the process of leaning less on "magic fairy dust" theology, I came to lean more on, "It is very likely God will NOT answer your prayer. Move on!" (How did my heart become so hard?)

I feel ashamed and embarrassed to admit this. The realization today hit me pretty hard, too. Did I somehow make a jump from "God is not answering my prayers the way I pray them " (as in, God is not a short-order cook) to "God does not answer any prayers" ???

I think I must have decided at some point it would be better not to put too much "hope" into God answering a particular prayer and focus instead on asking God for strength to endure. That's the realization I had today while I was pulling weeds and removing leaves and pine needles and digging holes for bedding plants. And I said to myself, "Hey, Tammy, God still answers prayers. Wake up!"

I don't know if you have ever moved about 180 degrees from what you once believed and then suddenly asked yourself, how the heck did I get here? I do know, however, that I need to correct my course. I need to make my way back to the "middle." I need to pray with humility and acceptance and wisdom. I also need to "risk" praying boldly again and stop worrying about being "disappointed" or "confused" if God does not respond with the solutions my pea brain comes up with. In fact, I need to stop praying solutions altogether. God wants good things for my life; and for yours; and you and you and you and you. God has an endless array of mechanisms for bringing those things about.

Now then ... does God listen? Is God in touch?

Yesterday I was trading ministry stories with my husband's aunt. I was telling her, as I often tell people, that the women I work with come and go so quickly, that their recidivism rates are so alarming and that I rarely know what happens to any of them, unless they come back for another rehab. She nodded in agreement and told her own war stories of ministry team members who relapsed ... putting the rate at something like 30 percent. Anyhow, today I was coaxing some of my ladies to get on to Sunday school when I saw a woman with a perfectly angelic face. She said, "Hi Tammy, you may not remember me, but I was at SM 3 years ago." I smiled. She was dead on, I did not remember her. I asked her name. I noticed she had her children with her. I asked, did they want to go to children's church. I asked, would she like to visit my Sunday school class?

After class, she told me she wanted to get back into church. She said, "All this time, I've been working hard and yet feeling like there was something I had forgotten. And this was it...." She even went so far as to tell me she wanted to somehow get involved in the recovery ministry.

Well ... there's an answered prayer. And doesn't God have good timing? Not 18 hours earlier, I'm telling someone that I never know what happens to the ladies I meet and bam, here's one with 3 years of sobriety. Three years! (That is huge.)

I am going to start praying again like I really believe it. I won't expend so much energy on whether my prayers are being "answered." Instead, I will trust God to work out the results and answers in God's way; and sometimes that means in ways I cannot perceive or will never know.

In the end, my Dad's financial problems were solved (he died). And others I prayed and prayed for have progressed into different life situations. Things happen. And don't you know God sits by watching it all, smiling and smiling and smiling?

One Goodbye is Enough

2011-05-21T17:54:00.003-05:00

My mother-in-law's husband, Henry, is dying of liver cancer. He is a great guy. He has made my mother-in-law very happy over the last 16-20 years (not sure how long they have been together). He's been a good influence on my children. He's been a good friend to me. He's a man of faith and integrity. He's a mere 60 years old.

And he's dying.

I'm not one to ask, "Why do bad things happen to good people?" I've never had an issue with that. All I know is it sure is hard to see someone you love die.

Last Saturday, we went to visit Henry. My eldest son and I went into his room and talked for about 30 minutes. He was in terrible pain, lying on his side, keeping his eyes shut most of the time as he talked. If there is a book about how to say goodbye to people whom you love, I'd like to think I followed it to the letter. I held his hand, I listened to what he had to say, I told him I loved him, I thanked him for all he has done for my family, I acknowledged his pain, I assured him that he was a good husband and a good father, I reminded him of some funny things that have happened between us (Like the time he introduced me to someone as his sister-in-law, because he is younger than my mother-in-law, and I corrected him, "Oh no, Henry, I'm not your SISTER-in-law, I'm your DAUGHTER-in-law.) And I smiled deeply to hear him say, "I've always liked you girl!"

It was a sweet, sweet exchange and I gave him a big hug and kiss as we got up to leave the room. I watched him hug and kiss my son with a particular masculine tenderness that deeply stirred my soul. The entire experience was so very sacred and beautiful. I am thankful to have had it. I will never forget it.

Today my husband and I went to see Henry again. There were other family members and friends there. I talked to them and sat and relaxed and had a cup of coffee. My mother-in-law asked, would I like to go in and visit him again? I felt like I was supposed to answer, "Yes, of course." But I didn't. I said, "I had such a nice visit with him last week, I feel like I said goodbye then." She smiled and the tears welled up in her eyes. I think she understood. I know Henry would.

See you on the other side buddy!

My Will for God's Will

2011-05-21T17:29:00.004-05:00

Over the last 6 months, I have been contemplating where life is taking me. I have 13 hours completed on a 48 hour master's degree in church ministry. I am pursuing certification as a lay minister. I am attending "candidacy" meetings just in case I want to dive a little deeper than certification. All the while, I ask myself, what is God's will for my life?

Funny, I say to the rehab ladies on a regular basis, "God's will for your life is pretty basic ... love God, love others, love yourself." In fact, just last week, I said it again ... it's not about going through a particular doorway; it's about how you live once the door snaps shut.

Could I love God, love others and love myself if I do not finish my master's degree? Yes.

Could I love God, love others and love myself if I do not become certified as a lay minister or pursue any other sort of licensing or ordination? Yes.

So what's the problem?

Well, the problem is me.

I was visiting with my husband's aunt today. She is a licensed pastor in Louisiana who works in recovery ministry as well. She said something I have come to believe -- you don't have to be an addict to benefit from a 12-step program. I'm familiar enough with the 12 steps that I could probably come pretty close to reciting at least 8 of them (sort of like when you try to name the 10 commandments off the top of your head). Step 3 says this: "We made a decision to turn our lives and our will over to the care of God as we understood God."

I read that and I think, piece of cake. I think I already have turned my life and my will over to the care of God. Yet given that I like to beat a dead horse, I was processing this step a little further and I made an interesting discovery about myself (see, this is why step work is so beneficial). It seems I need a Step 2.5 that says, "Stopped trying to masquerade my will as God's will." If you're going to turn your life and your will over to the care of God, then you have to stop claiming what God's will is. I am amused by people who will announce a certain difficult decision they have been trying to make and then punctuate the announcement with, "God gave me peace about it." Hmmm .... you took the easier of the two choices. Are you really surprised that you feel peace about it ? Really? Bam, defining God's will.

Yesterday I had a pedicure. I was in a hurry (as usual). I had a series of stops I wanted to make and had them all lined out in my mind, including how much travel time I would need for each errand. After my pedicure was done, the woman attending me said, "You sit there Tammy and relax; take a nap." Then she started attending to another client. I got my credit card out of my wallet and placed them both in my lap -- my subtle hint to her should she glance my way. She did not. I thought, well now, I don't want to be rude, but I really want to get on with my endless list of errands! Then it hit me ... maybe her words to me were God's words. Maybe it would be better for me to sit back and close my eyes and have a little nap. I did. Mind you, I felt a little anxious the whole time, but I surrendered my life and my will to the moment and let "something else" come to me, just to see what the outcome would be.

Can we seize God's will for our lives? Can we easily identify it in the same manner people watch for birds and then cry out, "There it is, there's the cardinal I told you about!" Maybe accepting God's will for our lives really means sitting back in the chair and letting it come to you instead of grasping at it so desperately.

The step says "...as we understood God" not, "... as we understood God's will." Can I trust God to take me where I need to go? Yes, I think I can. Can I trust myself to live what I teach ... to worry less about walking through a particular door and concentrate more on loving God, loving others and loving myself? Well, I don't know if "trust" is the right word ... but I feel more aware of the importance of doing so. That's certainly a start.

Humility vs Self Love

2011-05-11T16:45:00.000-05:00

I'm on a self-love kick right now. Normally, I would follow a statement like that with, "...so bear with me." But that doesn't sound like self-love, so ... I left it out (sort of).

So today I was reading a passage from the UMC lectionary from Acts 2:42-47. But before I reproduce that passage here, I have to back up. I have to tell the story of what happened first. In the name of doing something different, I went to the sanctuary today (I work at a church) and sat on the floor near the communion rail, right in front of the first pew, to pray. (This isn't exactly different ... I just hadn't done it in a while.) It was really dark, and I had the intention of also reading the Bible, but it was too dark to see. I said to myself, I'll bet there are some candles and matches on the other side of the altar. I walked up to that part of the sanctuary and, remembering how there are a couple "step ups," I reminded myself to be careful. And I was ... on the way to the altar. But on the return trip, I forgot and sure enough, a step caught me off guard and sent me to the ground. I landed on my hands and knees, my knees and shoulders taking the brunt of the force. I stood up and walked back to my spot on the floor in front of the pews, crying just a little and telling myself how stupid I was.

Then I stopped.

I wasn't stupid. It was dark. I couldn't see. Nearly anyone would have fallen exactly where I did. I stopped crying too. You see, the tears were really more about feeling dumb than feeling pain.

There was just enough light pouring in from the one of the stained glass windows that I could make out this Sunday's passage from the book of Acts (referenced above). However, it was dark enough that I was forced to read it slowly, one word at a time; and I'm not so sure I shouldn't start reading scripture in this manner all the time. Here's what it says:

(Chapter 2) 42They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. 43 Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. 44All who believed were together and had all things in common; 45they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. 46Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, 47praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.

The phrase "glad and generous hearts" stuck with me. I don't think the "eating" part is that important. I think it's all about having glad and generous hearts. They sound happy. Joyful. I don't hear anyone saying, "Even though we don't deserve to feel glad and generous, here we are, feeling glad and generous and joyful and happy." No, what I hear sounds more like this: "Dang, it's good to be alive. Let's praise God and be good to ourselves and exercise goodwill toward everyone!"

You see, I've spent the last 5 1/2 years telling women in terrible life situations that God loves them. Most of them struggle to believe it, to embrace it, though at times I can see that they really want to. So lately, I've changed my message a little. Lately, I've been telling them to take care of themselves and to love themselves. I don't mean with a desperate, grab what you can, it's all about me kind of love. I mean a self-love that feels glad and generous. "Be glad and generous toward yourself."

Guess why most of us struggle with that? We think we have to choose between being humble and loving ourselves. If I say, "Man, I'm pretty hot stuff," people may say I am arrogant. When did loving ourselves become arrogant? When did believing in ourselves morph into pride? When did we first start to think that being good to ourselves was the opposite of humility? I don't know, but I'm not buying into that thinking anymore.

I met a new friend today at Turning Point. Her name is Sharice. Ulitmately, she gave me a chance to test out my self-love attitude, and I failed at first, but corrected myself quickly (gold star for me!).

Sharice noticed my staff name tag and said, "Oh, you're from The Church" (That's Turning Point speak for Terrace Methodist Church). I said, Yes I am. She said, "What's your hood anyway?" I said, excuse me? (And mind you, this all came after a lot of chit chat and small talk about lunch, life and living in a homeless shelter.) She went on... "I see you here every week. Last week you were talking to Jose and speaking Spanish. Today you're talking to me. It seems like you just come in here, eat lunch and then leave." I said, Yep, that's pretty much the deal. Then I explained to her about the concept of "sanctuary" -- that our church's desire is to extend sanctuary -- total acceptance -- to others, which sometimes means leaving the church premises and going elsewhere.

Then sort of out of the blue I asked her this question: What percentage of people do you suppose believe they are being humble when in fact they just aren't loving themselves? She paused and then said, "Probably 90% ... no ... maybe more like 75%." Then she said, "That's an interesting question..."

I smiled.

She smiled.

Then she lobbed a compliment my way, but my stinking thinking couldn't handle it. She said, "I'm impressed that you ate all those tamales and didn't spill anything on your white blouse." Without even pausing, I said, Well if there had been any pasta on the tray, I would have spilled sauce on me for sure! But I caught myself and said, Did you hear what I just said? I'm trying to sound humble, but in fact, I'm just not loving myself. So let me back up. Yes, I'm very impressed with myself for not spilling anything on my white shirt.

We both laughed.

We shared some more conversation together, then we each went our separate ways.

I won't soon forget our talk ... about humility and self love. I pray she won't either.

Learning to love grackles

2011-05-05T13:30:00.004-05:00

About five years ago, I wrote a post here about a grackle that kept swooping down on me as I ran on the hike and bike trail. I went back and found that post. It dive-bombed me no fewer than 5 times as I ran along the trail that morning. I mention this old post because grackles came up in a conversation yesterday. I was talking to someone after a meeting. We were sitting outside in a courtyard when I heard a grackle screeching. Absently, I said, "I hate grackles." Hate? I heard my acquaintance say. "Ok, I don't hate them. I dislike them."

Little did I know I was sitting next to a bird enthusiast; and that is not even an accurate characterization. My acquaintance has a profound appreciation of birds from a spiritual point of view, based on the beliefs of Native Americans that a bird's feathers represent the burdens of humans, which birds agree to carry on our behalf. Isn't that beautiful?

Then came the zinger ...

Maybe you need to learn to love grackles. Maybe you need to learn to love the things you hate.

For the remainder of our conversation, I'll bet a half dozen birds flew over my head -- including grackles.

Hate is a pretty strong word. When I was a kid, my Grandma used to have a fit if we said we hated something (she had the same reaction to the word "liar.") She would cover her ears and say in that Grandma voice that I can still hear so clearly, "Oh, that makes my ears hurt!" (In fact, I confess we used to call one another "liars" just to listen to her reaction.)

You have heard it said, love your neighbor and hate your enemy, but here is what I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you. (Matthew 5:43-44)

I know, I know, I know. I get it. Heck, I teach it. But do I do it?

I was teaching a new client group today. I was pretty excited about it. It's a new program for homeless female veterans. There were only two clients in the class, but I was anxious to sit down with them, get to know them, tell them about our church, tell them that God loves them. I didn't have a formal lesson planned, just an intention to show up, bring some music, my dry erase markers and a Bible and see what happened.

There I was, gently asking two women who didn't know me from Adam and who weren't too sure about this whole God thing to learn to love the things they hate. (Sadly, the thing they tend to hate the most is themselves.) One woman had already told me her reservations about Christianity, describing herself as straddling the fence. I smiled. "That's cool," I said. "In fact, that's very refreshing to hear." I don't think she knew what to do with that statement! I assured her God was not shocked, surprised, phased or concerned with where she was in her faith journey. "In fact," I added, walking to the dry erase board and writing the word "HONESTY" on it, "the only thing God loves more than you ... is this" (pointing to the word).

I wonder if someone has given these women reasons to distrust the likes of me?

I wonder if life has taught them that they can't count on God?

I wonder if they will accept the challenge I extended to them ... "Just ask God to show up every morning, and then watch and see."

And I wonder, like me, if they will learn to love the things they hate.

I confess I've been paying more attention to birds today, receiving them as God's messengers to me. Like the young woman straddling the fence, I don't have to figure it all out today. I just have to notice when God shows up.

Maybe grackles aren't so bad after all....

God Encounter

2011-03-13T17:25:00.006-05:00

One of the rehab ladies paused and let everyone else get off the van this morning, leaving just she and I staring at one another. "Miss Tammy, did Misty talk to you?" (Misty is one of her peers who has recently discharged.) Um ... about what? I replied. "Well, I want to get baptized and Misty said I should talk to you."

This is a conversation I have on a regular basis. I am perceived among the rehab ladies as the go-to person when they want to be baptized, but in fact, I am the middle person. I always redirect them to the pastor, which is what I did with this nice young lady. I told her, If you are at spirituality class tomorrow, the pastor will be there and you can talk to him about it...

She said OK, then added that one of the happiest memories in her life was being baptized in the ocean when she was a little girl. I replied very gently, So then you have already been baptized? "Yes, but I was so little I don't really remember it and I have sinned so much since then!" she exclaimed.

This is another conversation I have on a regular basis -- explaining that we are not Anabaptists in the United Methodist Church; we don't re-baptize. (We think God got it right the first time.) I'm not sure if she believes baptism is the solution to backsliding -- that's a whole other blog. What intrigues me is this woman's original statement ... that being baptized in the ocean was one of the happiest memories of her life. Whether she realizes it or not, she experienced something that has come to represent a powerful God encounter -- an intersection with the Divine.

One of the classes I am taking right now is called spiritual formation. Its focus is to teach you a variety of spiritual practices that you can employ to keep your container filled, as Richard Rohr would say. Another way of saying this is practicing the presence of God. One of the assignments for this class is to form our own spiritual formation group and teach some of these practices to individuals within your circle of influence. This concept of practicing the presence of God is something I talk about nearly every week in the spirituality class I teach to the rehab ladies. It seems it is a confusing or foreign concept to most people and in truth, I don't know at what point in my faith journey I latched onto this concept. I don't know at what point I "got it" and thus forgot that many people don't get it; or don't appreciate the importance of it.

Why are God encounters so foreign? Why do I see a sea of blank and confused faces when I use phrases like "mountain top experience." Why is it that many people do not have any idea what I am talking about? I was thinking about this post as I was washing the dinner dishes tongiht. I started ticking off in my mind various mountain top experiences in my faith journey; those God encounters; those moments when I was so certain that I could hear God whispering in my ear. We view them as paranormal, but should we? I don't want to suggest to anyone that they should try to manufacture or manipulate God encounters. The Holy Spirit is like the wind, as Jesus says, and it blows where it will and no one knows why. Certainly, though, we can long for God's presence; seek it and pursue it; and find it.

If you want to win the lottery, you have to buy a lottery ticket. If you want to be in God's presence, you have to practice attitudes and behaviors and even body postures that can transport you to those intersections that feed your hungry soul.

No one should have to look far back into their childhood for the memory of a God encounter. We should be able to look to yesterday or last week or the previous month, but certainly not years and years and years ago. God is all around us, beside us, in us, everywhere. Our task is to learn to take notice.

Yield

2011-02-19T15:49:00.009-06:00

"Do you yield, sir?"

Don't ask me what movie this line is from, but it probably has something to do with knights and jousting. When one knight has the other in a threatening position, the threatened knight can either choose to "yield" (cry uncle, admit defeat) or be run through.

Crying uncle ... now there's an interesting phrase. If you want to see several explanations of where this phrase may have come from, try here. Otherwise, trust me when I say it's a more modern version of yielding under the threat of injury.

When I was in driver's ed (or was it defensive driving?) I remember learning that the "right of way" is something that is given, never taken. This understanding of yielding is really what I have in mind today ... something that we choose to do, but not out of fear for our lives.

The rehab ladies I work with have taught me all kinds of wonderful slogans and phrases that are related to recovery, like two of my favorites -- "Spot it, got it" and "Don't keep going to the hardware store for a loaf of bread." A third goes like this: "Do you want to be right, or do you want to have serenity?" This phrase also comes pretty close to the idea of yielding I have in mind. Again, it is something we choose.

I admit that I gravitate toward contention; it is familiar to me. Often, I raise my voice in a discussion without even realizing that I am doing it. The other morning, someone even said to me, "Don't shake your head at me." Raising your voice and shaking your head are not good illustrations of yielding; shutting up and keeping your head still are.

The Apostle Paul writes in his letter to the Corinthians, "You are still worldly. For since there is jealousy and quarreling among you, are you not worldly? Are you not acting like mere men?" (1 Corinthians 3:3). Even as much as I gravitate toward quarreling, I learned a long time ago the importance of yielding; of making the decision that I wanted things to be right between me and another person; and understanding that in order to bring this "rightness" about, I would have to choose to yield.

Yielding is not being a doormat. Neither is is being weak. Yielding is an act of love -- choosing to see someone in the best possible light and deciding that being right is not as important as having serenity in a relationship.

Of course, no one can force this type of yielding. No one can hold a sword above my head and cry out, "Will you yield, Tammy? Will you get along?" (Anyone whose parents tried to force this with a sibling knows I am speaking the truth.) No, yielding is akin to unconditional love; and anything related to unconditional love is clearly a behavior modeled for us by Jesus.

Yielding ... in love and humility. It's something worth pursuing....

Acceptance

2011-02-03T20:51:00.006-06:00

My husband and I were watching a fascinating broadcast of NOVA on PBS last night about how the brain works. Part of the show featured the findings from a study on pain management using a sort of “magnetic wand,” which, when applied to the cerebral cortex of patients after surgery, showed a significant reduction in the use of pain medications.

As serendipity would have it, I had read that morning a passage from Melody Beattie’s The Language of Letting Go that assured the reader that God gives us, “…no more pain than what is necessary for usefulness, healing and cleansing."

Surely we are one of the most pain-adverse societies! The tiniest cramp sends us scouring our cupboards for acetaminophen and ibuprofen. We use topical analgesics like biofreeze when our muscles ache and suck on ricolas at the earliest indication of a scratchy throat. The universe screams, “What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger,” but we refuse to be taught.

We pray to God to release us from difficult situations; to lessen our suffering; to perform a miracle on our behalf; to sprinkle his magic fairy dust over our lives, lest we be forced to experience periods of discomfort or, heaven forbid, seasons of pain. We can’t imagine that God would allow any difficulty to come our way. No, surely this is the working of the enemy, bound and determined to defeat us and oppress us at every turn. Yet Beattie gently asserts … no more pain than what is necessary for usefulness, healing and cleansing.

Here is pain-relief that is a bit more soul-satisfying. I have been enjoying a daily dose of Nan Merrill’s Psalms for Praying, a Christmas gift from my husband. The book is a rewriting or paraphrasing of the psalms, with all references to war and violence removed. Now before you purists get all worked up, listen to this excerpt from Psalm 112:

“Praise be to You, O Gracious One! Blessed are those who reverence the Holy One, who delight in Love Consciousness! For they dwell with the Beloved, and their children will learn of peace and justice. Abundance and wholeness will be their heritage, and truth will be their banner. Light penetrates the darkness for those who face their fears; Love stands by them with mercy and forgiveness.” (Bold facing added by me.)

Ah, so facing our fears head-on, taking them to the great Love of the world is more beneficial than crying for instant pain relief, frantically pressing the button of our spiritual morphine drip? You mean holding the difficulties of life in our hands, not grasping or attempting to squeeze the life out of them, but holding them gently for as long as we possibly can – is this what it means to trust in the power of Love Consciousness? Is this what is means to believe that the dry seasons will not last forever? Is this what it means to experience profound hope through the gentle act of acceptance?

Why yes, I think it is.

Christian artist Natalie Grant sings:

“Who told us we’d be rescued? What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares? We’re asking why this happened to us who have died to live, it’s unfair. This is what it means to be held, how it feels when the sacred is torn from your life and you survive. This is what it is to be loved and to know that the promise was when everything fell, we’d be held.”

Likewise, the artists of Superchick, lamenting for most of a song about how profound their experience of pain has been, still insist:

“After all this has passed, I still will remain. After I’ve cried my last, they’ll be beauty from pain. Though it won’t be today, someday I’ll hope again. And they’ll be beauty from pain. You will bring beauty from my pain.”

I applaud the efforts of the neuroscientists featured in last night’s NOVA episode, especially for their passions to reduce pain and suffering in this world. But maybe we should all go easier on the medicine cabinet and the magnetic wands. Maybe we should invest a bit more time and energy into the life-changing concept of acceptance, trusting God to be with us in every nanosecond of what we are experiencing and knowing that He is in charge, that He is love and that pain really can be understood in the context of a usefulness, healing and cleansing that goes beyond the simplistic, pain-adverse moanings of this world.

Relinquishment

2011-01-17T09:48:00.004-06:00

I should be reading about piety in the medieval period, but instead I am absorbing two books related to addiction. One is Addiction & Grace by Gerald G. May, M.D.; the other is Smashed, a memoir by Koren Zailckas that the author describes as, "a story of a drunken girlhood."

It is interesting to read about the concepts and phenomenon described in Addiction and Grace and then watch to see if they show up in Smashed. They do.

In discussing addiction, May focuses on what he calls "attachments." He defines addiction as, "any compulsive, habitual behavior that limits the freedom of human desire." He goes on to say that addiction is caused by the attachment or nailing of a desire to a specific object (chemical substances, relationships, success, etc.). He explains that attachments form through our investing psychic energy into certain activities, things or people that bring us pleasure (or relief from distress). Many of these investments are kept unconscious by means of self-deception. Thus, our motivations are never completely pure, making it difficult to "catch" ourselves in our growing addictions.

Fascinating stuff!

I think I've given away enough of the May text. If it sounds interesting, purchase it! However, there were several thoughts related to spirituality that I want to share as well.

In a chapter devoted to spirituality, May says that humans tend to "displace" our longing for God upon other things. (Another "version" of this I have heard is the idea of throwing other "stuff" into the "God" hole and never feeling satisfied because only God can fill that space.) He offers a fascinating explanation as to why we sometimes feel separated from God; or as if God is hiding from us. God refuses to be an object of attachment; He desires full love, not addiction. Thus those perceptions or sensations we entertain of "Where is God?" are perhaps God's way of telling us, you can't "have" me like this. Likewise, May defines full love for God as turning to God over and above other things. "Authentic freedom and love will not be captured by attachment," he says.

Now here's the really good stuff: May says spiritual growth is more about relinquishment, not acquisition. It's a process of transformation, not education; an unlearning process in which our old ways are cleansed, liberated and redeemed.

I was reminded of this idea as I was reading a passage from Isaiah this morning. Not because of what the passage said, but because of a note I had written in the margin in my more legalistic days. I got up from my rocking chair in search of a pencil. Then I erased my comments. Perhaps that is something like what May is describing -- this process of transformation -- erasing our old selves.

May describes three reactions we tend to have toward our spiritual hunger (what he calls, "God's loving, threatening call"), making the point early on that we are created to be in connection with God. "First, we may try to deny or avoid God's call, repressing our desire and displacing its energy..." onto other objects (that, he says, is what contributes to addiction). "Second, we may make images of spiritual reality, cellular representations that enable us to feel a measure of power over it instead of remaining dependent upon it." (These cellular representations are references to what's going on in our brains between the neuro transmitters and the neuro receptors as we process various experiences, learning and associations). "Third, we can try to be present to the mystery in a gentle, open-handed, and cooperative way. This is the contemplative option...."

When I read Reaction 2 yesterday, I had an epiphany. I understand Reaction 2 as a "false god" kind of thing; what you might call keeping God in a box. "If I define God as A and not B, he is easy to understand, manufacture and manipulate." I think I have spent the last few years clawing my way out of the pit of Reaction 2 and searching for the hidden doorway that leads to Reaction 3. What a relief. So often, I was asking myself, What is going on with me? Why doesn't "this" and "that" work anymore? Why don't I believe "this" or "that" anymore? Why isn't God behaving the way I was so certain He behaves?? Have I lost my religion? Is my faith gone? Am I losing my mind??? How affirming to have a "name" of sorts for this experience.

In this same chapter, May discusses our "heart" self -- that "self" that is at the core, the essence of who we really are. It is not connected to any of our multiple "identity systems," like where you work, what your gifts and talents are, who your spouse is, who your friends are, where you went to school, who your kids are, etc. It is that "self" that you discover for very brief little intervals in the midst of deep prayer or meditation, when you let go of your identify systems and experience God's presence in a particular way that cannot be described, just somehow known or perceived. It's those experiences that make you say, Wow, how do I get back to THAT again? Then find in utter frustration that it is not a state capable of being manipulated or controlled. It merely happens, when you learn to let go.

Like May says, it's about relinquishment, not acquisition.

Soul-nurturing stuff -- at least for this girl.

Kelly disappeared ...

2011-01-16T13:51:00.003-06:00

Kelly disappeared, but now she's back.

Kelly (not her real name) is a woman I met at Bonita House about 2 years ago. She got clean, relapsed and got clean again. About a year ago, she looked me up and asked if our church could give her some assistance to pay her bills at the halfway house where she was living. She was trying to get a job and get her life back together again.

She did get a job. Eventually, she reconciled with her husband and young son.

Over the next 10 months, Kelly and I became fast friends. I bounced ideas off of her for outreach and working with addicts and expanding our ministries. She asked my advise on school and parenting and marriage. I learned alot about her ... her different children and where they now lived, her bohemian-like childhood being raised by an addict mother, her dreams to open a halfway house of her own. She's young enough to be my daughter, and there is that kind of a tenderness between us, but she is also a friend.

I don't know. We just clicked.

In December, Kelly started using again. She said it was like her car drove itself to the crack dealer. She got sober for a week or two, then "drove" back to the dealer. She started sending me crazy texts. "Help me ... I'm at the corner of ..." And then ... she disappeared entirely.

I texted her husband days later to ask what he knew; and it was very little.

I heard from him again on Christmas, telling me Kelly was in jail and he would call me on Monday. He never called.

Today, I walked into church, and there she was. My Kelly. She is absolutely adorable and has a beautiful mane of wavy black hair. I hugged her so close. I wept. I told her I was so worried about her.

I have tried not to get attached to my rehab girls. But sometimes, I just can't help it...

If I judge those who judge...

2011-01-14T11:42:00.002-06:00

In the pop-saturated '80s, The Police bellowed, "Don't stand ... don't' stand so ... don't stand so close to me." The song dealt with a teacher who was having a less-than-clandestine affair with one of his students, but it could also serve as the theme song for many churches.

If you judge those who judge, are you equally guilty of judging? Of course you are! I know this to be true, but that won't keep me from saying what I'm about to say. Writing helps me process (which is why the subtitle of this blog says, "just processing the God stuff in my brain.")

Plainly stated, either everyone belongs or they don't. It's really not that hard to understand this theological idea, though living it can be terribly inconvenient. I've been trading emails with church staff. We are all "passing the buck" on doing the paperwork required to renew our "welcoming congregation" status. Meanwhile, quite ironically, I receive another email of a new Sunday school class that is forming. I was told about it recently by one of the class's organizers, who explained to me that her needs were no longer being met by our class and that she missed the "intimacy" we once enjoyed.

How did we lose that intimacy? Well, we moved downstairs and became a lot easier to find. Thus, clients from the local homeless shelter who come for Sunday school started attending our class. Suddenly, there were strangers among us ... people who looked different and sometimes nodded off to sleep during class or couldn't relate to our upper-middle class world.

Like I said ... don't stand so close to me!

Father Richard Rohr wrote recently in one of his daily email devotionals:

Less than a block from where I used to live in downtown Albuquerque, there is a sidewalk where the homeless often sit against the wall to catch the winter sun. Once I saw fresh graffiti chalked clearly on the pavement in front of the homeless. It said, “I watch how foolishly man guards his nothing—thereby keeping us out. Truly God is hated here.” (I returned to copy the quote exactly because it felt both prophetic and poetic at the same time.)

I can only imagine what kind of life experience enabled some person to write in such a cutting but truthful way. I understood anew why Jesus seemed to think that the expelled ones had a head start in understanding his message. Usually they have been expelled from what was unreal anyway—the imperial systems of culture, which always create those who are “in” and those who are “out,” victors and victims.

In God’s reign “everything belongs,” even the broken and poor parts. Until we have admitted this in our own soul, we will usually perpetuate exclusionary systems and dualistic thinking in the outer world of politics and class, and sometimes even in the church.

Do I get uncomfortable when the guy who I happen to know is a registered sex offender gets too close? Heck yeah. Do I enact my invisible electronic fence when the toothless woman wants to be my new BFF? Of course. You see, when we don't know how to relate to people as people, we conveniently distance ourselves from them. "Now you stay over there and I'll stay here and everything will be just fine."

There are plenty of weeks that I go to eat lunch at Turning Point and I think, I don't know if I am up for this today! It's akin to sitting next to a stranger on a bus who is crying. The first opportunity that comes, you are going to switch seats!

How do we begin the process of "conditioning" ourselves to love everyone? It sounds so super-spiritual to exclaim with Hare Krishna enthusiasm, Love is all you need! But how do you actually pull it off? How do you accept those that your narrow little mind (and I am speaking for myself) wants to put at arm's length?

My friend who told me in hushed tones with a serious look on her face that she was going to help start this new class was afraid I would be offended. And she was right!

How do I pick myself up by the scruff of the neck, tell myself, "Knock it off Tammy!" and love and accept her too? Perhaps by being honest with myself and admitting that I have a long, long way to go...

Holding hands

2011-01-08T13:23:00.004-06:00

I was reading the "suggested" passages for Sunday from the Lectionary this morning, focusing mostly on Isaiah 42 and Matthew 3. The Isaiah passage has a reference to God holding our hand that really grabbed me (no pun intended). Here's what Isaiah 42:5-9 says ...

5 This is what God the LORD says— the Creator of the heavens, who stretches them out, who spreads out the earth with all that springs from it, who gives breath to its people, and life to those who walk on it: 6 “I, the LORD, have called you in righteousness; I will take hold of your hand. I will keep you and will make you to be a covenant for the people and a light for the Gentiles, 7 to open eyes that are blind, to free captives from prison and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness.

Sometimes I say to the Rehab Ladies, "No matter what happens to you in your life, the question you have to ask yourself is, am I going to keep holding God's hand?"

I thought about that statement as I meditated on verse 6. And I realized something important. God is doing the hand-holding here, not me.

"I will take hold of your hand." That's what God says. He is the initiator. He reaches out. He grabs my hand. And like a parent holding their young child's hand as they walk together through a parking lot, he is not about to let go.

Heck, even if I try to break free of God's grasp, I can't do it. Am I just kidding myself, then, to imagine that I can choose whether or not I will keep holding God's hand?

Maybe it's a matter of denial. Maybe God holds on but I choose not to perceive it. Or I am unable to perceive it so I doubt it. Life happens and I cry, "Where are you God? Where did you go? Why aren't you still holding my hand??"

But of course, he is.

Other images came to mind as I thought about holding hands, like a baby wrapping its hand around your finger. Or young children who hold each others' hands as they travel in groups from their classroom to the bathroom or the playground or the bus. Or how little girls hold hands in elementary school, skipping down the street in best friend bliss. Or in middle school, when the class is watching a film and it's dark and that boy you like reaches over and grabs your hand when no one is looking. Or as I'm walking in a public place with my husband and absently reach for his hand without even realizing I am doing it; it's such a reflex.

In all of these and other situations, the affect of holding hands is one of being soothed, calmed, reassured, loved, affirmed. Close your eyes and imagine holding your beloved's hand. Doesn't it feel good?

It's a pretty cool thing, this hand-holding business.

Yes God, I'll keep holding your hand.

Servant

2011-01-01T11:02:00.002-06:00

I've just finished a novel called Here Burns My Candle by Lizz Curtis Higgs. It is a retelling of the story of Ruth, set in 17th century Scotland. Yes, I know it sounds weird, but Higgs is a talented writer, especially where character development is concerned, though her plots move slowly at times.

Anyway, there are three servants who play a prominent role in the plot. The first is a young girl named Peg, a lady's maid, who exits the story early on when the master of the house makes some pretty strong overtures to her and frightens the "wee lass" away. Another is Helen, the cook who ultimately finds herself doing double duty as housekeeper and lady's maid. The third is Gibson, the man servant.

Sometimes when I am praying, I say to God, "You know my desire is to be your servant." Thinking about this novel today and these two particular characters -- Helen and Gibson -- I find that I am a spoiled girl who does not truly understand what a servant is.

The BVM (Blessed Virgin Mary) is a timeless example of servant hood. Told she will bear the Christ child, she replies "I am the Lord's handmaid. May it be to me as you say." And she means it.

Helen is something like this, telling one of the other characters at one point, "It is the Lord's good pleasure to give me this station in life and I will not think otherwise." A servant does not try to second-guess the master (or the Master). A servant accepts her place and serves in that identity in a selfless, humble sort of way.

That is really quite beautiful.

Gibson and Helen are forever doing the bidding of their mistress, who seems a bit demanding and demeaning in the beginning of the novel, never once criticizing or muttering under their breaths. When the family fortune goes south and the high and mighty are humbled, it softens them greatly. Suddenly they see their servants as people, not things. They begin to invite them to table, or to offer them assistance with various tasks, or offer to do things for themselves. The servants, on the other hand, continue to serve dutifully. They refues the assistance of the various mistresses they serve (seeing it as highly improper) and cannot fathom joining the family for meals or even sharing a cup of tea and piece of toast with the mistress. "It wunna be richt," Helen insists.

Often, when I am reading The Imitation of Christ by Thomas a Kempis he makes statements about not thinking too highly of ourselves. There is a part of this message that makes me bristle. Why? Probably because I view myself more as the mistress of the manor than the servant. There, I said it.

I frequently tell my rehab ladies that true humility is a gentle understanding and acceptance of who you are. If we claim we are God's servant, perhaps a good bit of meditation is in order to come to a gentle understanding and acceptance of what that station in life really entails.

Here and Now

2010-12-18T14:48:00.002-06:00

When God tells Moses that he is the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob -- men whose time had come and gone when these words were spoken -- did the rest of us suddenly believe that God is the God of the past? It would seem that the intention of the author of Genesis is quite the opposite. Our God is the God of here and now. Though God's omnipresence makes him "present" in the past and the future, I do not share this attribute with God; therefore, I need to stay in the present.

Father Richard Rohr writes, "Jesus said it to us quite clearly: “Why do you worry like the pagans do? What shall I eat? What shall I drink? What shall I wear?” (Matthew 6:31). But for some reason, the human mind feels most useful when it reprocesses the past and worries about the future."

Can I get an "amen?" Can I get a "preach it, brother?" In writing about this same passage from Matthew 6, Rohr says that our inability to take delight in the birds of the air and the lillies in the field, which Jesus presents as an antidote to all of our worrying, points to our inability to live in the present.

I posted on my facebook status the other day the Latin phrase, Sub specie aeternitate?, which basically means, in light of eternity, does this really matter? If the Christian life is all about fidelity to God and loving my fellow human being, surely these things can only be accomplished in the present. I can't pledge fidelity to God in the past; and I can't guarantee to love my neighbors in the future. All I have is now, today, this moment.

Some might say that this is a fatalistic view. In stating that the present is all that we have, I am not suggesting that focusing on the present is a waste of time. If you think about it, the argument could be made that living today with the goal of doing no harm, doing good and staying in love with God (as Mr. Wesley liked to say) not only redeems my past, it points me to a better future.

Why do we worry? I want to suggest that worry is closely tied to control. Worrying begins when I try to claim control over situations where I am powerless. For what ever reason, we convince ourselves that worrying will somehow effect outcomes. Yet Jesus asked his listeners, can any of you add a single second to your lives by worrying? If we are honest with ourselves, we will answer with a sheepish, "No, I cannot."

Why do we beat ourselves up over the past? Same reason ... control. We have somehow convinced ourselves that if we revisit the past enough, we will somehow be able to change it. Now don't get me wrong. Gentle and thorough reflection of the past has value. But I would liek to suggest that the purpose of thinking about the past is more like an autopsy -- trying to understand what happened for the purpose of avoiding it in the future. Learning, not condemning. (And by the way, I have never heard of an autopsy being performed more than once.) In fact, one of the healthiest and most realistic views of the past we can have is to admit, "You're right, I definitely screwed up that day; what was I thinking?" and then move on. It's when our mind becomes convinced that we get a redo in the past that everything goes to hell in a hand basket. Any redo that is available to us is in the today.

Sometimes the rehab ladies poor out their hearts to me and tell me about terrible things they've done in the past. They don't know how to move beyond their history, especially where mistakes that have hurt their children are concerned. I try to tell them, "If you don't like the way you lived in the past, don't live that way anymore. Start doing something differently today."

Maybe that's how we build up treasures for ourselves in heaven, by living in such a manner today that someone experiences a better tomorrow. That certainly sounds like a good way of loving our fellow human beings.

Our minds are powerful. When they go places they don't belong, we are the only ones who can pull the plug on that thought process. Sometimes we have to literally say to ourselves, "Stop." Then we have to turn our attentions to a replacement thought, like the good and beautiful things in our lives. It has taken many of us years of hard training to get to a place where we constantly churn about the past or worry about the future; so living in the present will not come easily, naturally or immediately. But if we will expend as much effort to being in today as we have with jumping back to yesterday or projecting to tomorrow, we may be surprised by the progress we make. Not to mention the peace of mind we experience.

God calls us to abundant living. So let's get to work ... today.

Distinction

2010-12-16T19:57:00.003-06:00

I am fond of telling the rehab ladies that God is slowly transforming us into the people he created us to be. You know, restoration.

I came across nearly the exact phrase while reading the final chapter of Amber Von Schooneveld's Hope Lives, a study that our church has been focusing on during Advent and that I have been teaching at Santa Maria and Bonita House for the past 4 weeks.

As I was processing that familiar phrase today, I thought about another aspect of God's character that I talk about a great deal: redemption. God is in the business of giving value to those things in our lives that seem completely worthless.

And that got me to thinking ... what is the distinction between restoration and redemption? Someone in my office saw me staring at my computer screen with pages of notes scattered across my desk and asked me, was I working on a homework assignment? "No," I assured her, "I'm trying to figure out the difference between restoration and redemption for my lesson next week." She registered a look akin to, "Sorry I asked..." and then sort of backed her way out of my office.

When I typed the word "redeem" into the search engine at Dictionary.com, 8 different definitions came up. One was labeled as the "theological" definition. Here it is: to deliver from sin and its consequences by means of a sacrifice offered for the sinner. I guess that is the definition I'm supposed to gravitate toward, but ... it's really not entirely what I had in mind.

Yes, God redeems our lives in this manner -- offering forgiveness of sins through the life, death and resurrection of his Son, Jesus Christ. But another definition says: To buy back, as after a tax sale or mortgage foreclosure. That sounds more to me like what God does in our lives -- taking something that no one else sees the value of and insisting, oh yes, it is most definitely worth a great deal. However, unlike people in the real estate business who search out "deals" in foreclosure sales so that they can ultimately turn a handy profit, God is more in the business of revealing the value that was there all along. It's not turning straw into gold; it's more like coming across a rare piece of artwork at a garage sale that's marked $5 but is really worth $1 million. In this situation, the seller blinks his eyes in startled disbelief and exclaims, "Who would have thought it was worth so much?"

That's redemption ... realizing the true worth of situations in our lives that express themselves as pain or suffering or challenges or frailty or brokenness. Equally important, it's realizing the true worth of our very selves.

This is the way that Jesus viewed people. That's why he hung out with tax collectors and prostitutes and slightly-dense fishermen and that's why the broken flocked to him like white on rice. They were the proverbial pearls of great value found by the discerning merchant (Jesus).

I see so many people focusing on destinations when God desires for us to pay more attention to the journey. We pour all of our time and energy and resources into "arriving" when God's intention is for us to take note of the mile markers along the way. That's the "redemption" of our life experiences. It's not about being delivered from a particular situation as quickly as possible, striving to forget that such a thing ever happened. It's seeking to understand the lessons about ourselves and God and others that float to the surface in these situations.

I suppose since I opened this can of worms regarding the distinction between redemption and restoration, I need to define and process the word "restore" as well. Again, Dictionary.com provides a handy definition: To bring back to a former, original or normal condition. I know lots of women at the rehab facility who would fiercely shake their heads side to side to hear that this is what God is doing in their lives. Their journey into sobriety has their brains insisting, "I'm not who I was." And they're right ... this has certainly been my experience with the women as I watch them come back to life from one week to the next. Yet if I came into this world with a sack of human frailty tied around my neck, is that the "former, original or normal" condition that I am being restored to? Perhaps in the theological sense, restoration is more about sanctification -- this "going on" to perfection. Returning to the journey metaphor, complete restoration is not a destination we can expect to reach in this lifetime, but we can certainly progress in this journey each day.

Through the life and teaching and actions of Jesus, I experience redemption in my own life (a gradual acceptance of just how valuable I am in God's eyes) and learn to apply it to the lives of others (intentionally choosing to view them in the best possible light). I experience restoration as I seek each day, bit by bit, to live my truth -- a life of great value made possible through the transforming power of the Holy Spirit.

Redemption and restoration. Two great miracles made manifest every day in the ordinary lives of people like you and I.

Need to see

2010-12-15T13:51:00.002-06:00

I've been teaching from a book called Hope Lives for the last 4 weeks at the rehab facilities. The focus is about what we have to offer in service to God and to our fellow human being. I am preparing the last week's lesson and am struck by these words by the book's author, Amber Van Schooneveld: "Here on earth, I'll never see the impact of the ministry God has blessed me with..." Her statement resonates deeply with me, makes me break down just a little. And I wonder ... what is this need to see the impact? To see the results?

I imagine it mostly has to do with my ego. If that is the case, then it's definitely a good thing that so many women drift in and out of my life without me knowing what becomes of them. Maybe I see them for two weeks, maybe three, maybe just once; then bam, they're gone. I have had access to thousands (and I really believe this to be an accurate number) of women over the last 5 years. Where are they? What has become of them? I could count on both hands the number of women I have ever seen again, mostly by chance in the mall or at the grocery store or Starbucks (or heaven forbid back at the rehab).

I think my self-esteem is also tied into this need. Today in particular, I am doubting myself; wondering, really, is this what I'm supposed to be doing? These thoughts are pretty random and drift in and out of my mind on a regular basis. Yet God often throws me a bone; has someone make a comment that whispers to those secret doubts within.

Just as we have to trust God to work through us to minister to the needs of others, we have to trust that the ministry is happening without seeing any "verification" or "proof" of it. (That is faith.) I seem to trust that God will work through me. He does every week. So often, I walk into class to teach and I think, I don't really have this all pulled together, God, I need your help. And somehow it all comes together; it happens, and I am completely aware of it as it does, and that it is from God. Yet still I wonder -- is it making a difference? Is it doing anything?

Better yet ... is this even a question I should be asking? I know the answer is no.

I was struck last week by a passage from Isaiah 58 that speaks to receiving what we give. It's the sort of thing I would expect Jesus to be saying (well, he did say that sort of thing). Here it is:

6 “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? 7 Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter— when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? 8 Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard. 9 Then you will call, and the LORD will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.

What a beautiful promise ... feed my sheep, tend my lambs; and in your day of need, when you will call on my name, I will answer you.

I know it is God's reminder to me to just keep doing what I am doing ... and let him worry about the rest.

Showing up

2010-12-02T19:05:00.003-06:00

My Dad has been showing up in my thoughts. Must be the holidays. I picked up the latest installment of the grief book the church keeps sending me. As I perused the pages, I thought, hey, this isn't bothering me at all. I must be "over" it now.

Today a coworker was talking about his Dad dying two years ago. He was working on a speech about grief that he is giving at a funeral home on Sunday. He relayed to me that on the day his Dad died, when he arrived at the hospital, he had gathered all his family members together and was heading to the hospital room when the doctor emerged and said, "I'm so sorry ... you're too late."

"Yeah," I said. "I was too late, too." Then I told him I hadn't been with my Dad either when he died; and that I felt really cheated by that. I teared up a little. It surprised me. Then I turned back to my computer screen and continued typing away.

Sometimes I talk to my Dad. Sometimes I say, "Do you see this Dad? Are you here? Can you hear me?" Of course, I have no idea if he can; but I guess that doesn't matter to me.

When I was thinking about him today, I was thinking about how he was before he got Alzheimer's. I can see his face. I can hear his loud voice saying, "Hello Tammy Kay!" For as unhappy as he often was in life, I suppose he always acted happy to see me (except for a few times I can think of when he was mad at me over some issue).

My Dad loved the holidays; he loved family gatherings. He wasn't satisfied if every single one of us wasn't at his house on Christmas Eve. In fact, for about 30 years, my Dad and his wife "owned" Christmas Eve. The only year I can remember that I was given a "pass" was 1990, when I went into labor with our eldest son on Christmas Eve.

I remember when my Dad was early in his Alzheimer's. I remember how terrible one of my brother's and I felt when, on Christmas Eve, as we were opening gifts, he asked us, "Did I get Janie anything?" (that was his wife's name) None of us had thought to buy her a gift on his behalf. I can still see the sad, bewildered look in his eyes as she smiled and said, "Oh that's OK."

When we were kids, we couldn't open presents until we sat around the piano and sang Christmas songs with my Dad. In fact, we practically drew straws to see who would have to park next to him on the piano bench, turning the pages as he played in his awkward rhythm. One of his favorite songs to play when we were little was, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth." He loved to ham it up to that song, even singing in a crazy falsetto voice. I guess we complained about it all back then, but actually ... turning the pages for my Dad and singing along with him seem like good memories now.

After my parents got divorced, holidays were such a hassle. They were just a big bag of anxiety for me. I'm sure my Dad didn't want things to be this way, but he never bothered to help me process it all. I don't really think he knew how.

Dad ... can you see me? Are you reading this while I write it? Are you here? If you are, I want you to know ... I'm thinking about you.

Memories

2010-11-25T10:36:00.004-06:00

When I was maybe 10 or 11 years old, my Mom was in the hospital during Thanksgiving. I have no idea why; but I think when she comes over today, I will ask her. The cumulative strain of my parents' marriage was reaching the breaking point by then, but this is something I only realize now as I look back.

We went to see my Mom in the hospital. In order to be allowed into her room, I had to lie and say that I was older than I was. I was tall for my age, so I imagine this was not a stretch. Plus my mother was a hospital nurse and I'm certain she was in the hospital where she worked, so likely they were cutting us some slack. I don't remember a single detail of that incident, except that I had to falsify my age. How strange.

Next, we went to eat Thanksgiving at the local Denny's. This time, I was to lie that I was younger than my actual age so I could for free. The waitress was not especially friendly and my Dad went off on her as only he could. He wrote a short novel on the back of our ticket complaining of all her shortcomings and missteps and errors then demanded that the Manager be summoned to our table. The manager apologized profusely as any Denny's manager would while the waitress stood nearby, looking anything but penitent.

I could not believe her "screw you" attitude. I had never seen anyone defy my Father. (I certainly never would.)

The only other detail I remember about this particular Thanksgiving is reacting to the strain of it all later. I sobbed quietly in the back of the car on the ride home from the restaurant, then attempted to defend my emotions when my father inquired after me.

About this time last year, I was cutting my Father's food for him at the facility where he lived. It was a big celebration, with the family members of all the residents eating together. He wasn't complaining that day about the food or the service, totally absorbed by eating, the only thing he seemed to attend to the last year of his life. I don't think by then he had "forgotten" who I was. He knew that he knew me, but he couldn't remember why.

Funny isn't it ... the things that stand out in your holiday memories?

Beautiful day

2010-11-25T10:08:00.005-06:00

I think it's U2 that sings the song, "It's a beautiful day." I can hear Bono's strained vocals in my ear, but the main lyric describes my sentiment for yesterday perfectly.

I spent a good part of the day doing laps at the church, going back and forth between the attic and the stage in our fellowship hall, bringing down Christmas decorations in anticipation of Advent. Technically, that was not the beautiful day aspect. Is was the women who were helping me -- Yolanda, Deanna, Zenobia and Brooke.

About a week ago, I contacted the rehab facility where I teach and asked, were there some ladies who could help me with a certain project? This has become my new strategy for getting help for all the stuff that needs doing around the church. One of the clients, Yolanda, assured me a few days later she was working on my "list" of ladies.

When I pulled up to the facility yesterday morning, I told the women I was moving in slow-mo. Just didn't seem to have any energy. Somehow we got into a conversation about age and I learned that two of the women were a year older than me. One teased, "You can call me MISS Deanna now..."

We stopped at the corner store so they could buy cigarettes (the store sells single cigarettes for 50 cents each, if you can believe that) then made our way to a nearby parking lot so the ladies could have a smoke before I put them through the paces.

I don't get enough casual, intimate time with the women in our church's outreach ministry. Usually, it's about 35 of them to one of me. But yesterday was different. I heard stories about their lives; the conversation ran the gamut. Tales of husbands who were over the top in their religious beliefs, children who were in CPS custody, reasons you do NOT want to live in Las Vegas, yoga practices that can calm your nerves and soothe your menopause symptoms, foods their mothers and aunts and grannies had promised to make for them once they got out, anticipation over weekend passes, plans for going to the nail salon and hair salon, worries over children whose whereabouts were uncertain. I listened intently, soaking it all in, sprinkling their stories with, "I know that's right" and "I hear you."

I was tickled to be babied and mothered by these ladies. "Ms. Tammy, don't lift that. Ms. Tammy let me do it. Ms. Tammy, you sit down right here. Ms. Tammy, you need to go home after this and take a nap!"

Before I returned them to the facility, we ate lunch at Wings 'N More. One of the ladies was laughing to hear me making "mmmmm MMMM" noises while I ate the spicy wings. It was a great surprise to them (but certainly not to me) to learn how ordinary I am.

When we pulled up to the facility some 3 1/2 hours later, I felt as if I was returning a different group of women from the ones whom I'd picked up. We had bonded during this peculiar girlfriend time and it felt sweet and relaxed and soothing.

Before Yolanda closed the door to the church van, she called out, "Ms. Tammy, now you go home and enjoy your time with your family and don't worry about us!" Yes Mother, I teased.

Sweet girls. I love them dearly.

Sunshine and mosquitos and nothingness

2010-11-05T17:35:00.007-05:00

I've been nursing a bizarre stomach virus today. As the day has wore on, I've continued to feel better. (There's nothing like illness to make me thankful for my good health.)

At about 5 p.m., I decided to go outside. The sun was shining so beautifully and I know full well of the physical and emotional benefits of sunshine, so I thought I might pass some time with my books and journal in my swing by the garden.

The swing had already been taken over by shade, so I parked in a patio chair across the way, my back to the sun. I began to read the latest chapter of The Imitation of Christ by Thomas of Kempis. Every time I read from this book, I feel at once inspired and intimidated. His devotion to his faith in Christ is nearly unfathomable.

Next I picked up my journal. My spiritual formation teacher requires that we keep a journal. I have been pretty good about writing in it daily. Mostly, I use it to record my experiences of the various spiritual practices that we are given as assignments, about which we are required to write a short reflection paper. Currently, we are practicing breath prayers and contemplative prayer. The breath prayers are very natural for me; in fact, I found myself absent-mindedly lapsing into them during several quiet times this week. They seem to refocus me on God's presence.

Today I decided to combine another practice with the breath prayer. I was doing an exercise from Ernest Wood's Concentration in which one stares at an object, looking through and beyond it really. I have this bookmark that is square-shaped with vertical lines each in a different, bright color. (My younger daughter made it years ago.) This bookmark has become my favorite object to use for the concentration exercise, as I like watching the colors blend and separate and multiply and move as I stare through them.

Recently, I was sharing this practice with my spiritual formation teacher, telling her of the "sensation" I've had of falling into nothingness while I do this exercise and then pulling myself back. It puzzled me, why did I resist? Why couldn't I just let go?

I was thinking about this some more today and realized, God is in my mind, his presence is there, but I drown him out with all my thoughts and noise. This concentration exercise, which blots out my thoughts and silences the voice within, does not lead to nothingness but to what is left when I am removed -- God. Yes, that must be it; and that must be why this particular exercise is so soothing, so comforting to me.

Today, as the colors danced and shifted and moved and disappeared, I didn't feel as if I was falling into it so much as I was becoming a part of it. In other words, the separation between me and "it" was not so profound. I felt myself blending in with God's presence; being absorbed by it; joining it. It was like the comfort of a soft blanket about my shoulders. I didn't want to leave it; I wanted it all; I wanted always to be just there.

As I scribbled in my journal about this realization, I felt satisfied; content that I had reached a new level of understanding. The rays of the sun kissed the back of my head and filled my body with its warmth. That warmth felt oddly familiar ... a great deal like the supposed "nothingness." Of course, in God's creation, we would expect to find him there.

I smiled, rubbed my stomach to sooth its raw churnings and batted away the mosquitos that were beginning to make a nuisance of themselves. The cool breeze was picking up. So I gathered up my books and journals and headed back inside.

Like Mike

2010-10-31T13:17:00.004-05:00

In Sunday school this morning, we were talking about following God's will for your life. It was tied up in a discussion about how living a life of faith may find you "facing off" with your friends and loved ones.

I was trying to make the point that following God's will isn't necessarily linear -- going from point A to point B, according to some graph of my life God has whipped up in his spare time. No, I can take all kinds of different tracks and each can represent God's will for my life when I understand his will to be the way I approach life, with that approach serving to color and influence the choices I make.

One guy said, "So it's how you carry yourself..." Yes, exactly, beautiful. In fact, I like this turn of the phrase much better!

I have been teaching a series to the rehab ladies on spiritual disciplines. The study has lasted for nigh into 2 months. I am basing it on Richard Foster's book, Celebration of Discipline. This week has me focusing on the spiritual discipline of guidance -- as in seeking it and not giving it.

What a theological conundrum I find myself in. My knee jerk reaction to the concept of seeking guidance as a spiritual discipline is to teach God's will as a linear experience. "But wait!" my brain screams, "you know that's not accurate!" Yet the word "guidance" by its very nature implies giving and receiving direction. And if I am exploring the concept of seeking guidance from God (knowing of course that this guidance lands on my doorstep in many shapes and forms), how do I frame that in a relevant manner without falling back on "treasure map" theology; this idea that God's guidance will provide you with a map that you are to follow turn for turn, with "x" marking the spot where the proverbial treasure can be found.

In preparation for teaching this lesson tomorrow and Tuesday, I will practice my evolving theology here on this point. It's not about following directions; its about conforming to the image of Christ.

Conforming to the image of Christ -- that's one of those super-religious expressions that us Jesus-y people use all the time without giving much thought to what it looks like in real life. We convince ourselves we know what it means; but fail when asked to produce any concrete examples.

I'm remembering a commercial years ago for Gatorade that featured footage of Michael Jordan playing basketball and was underscored by a catchy little ditty proclaiming, "... like Mike, I wanna be like Mike...." That's probably the best explanation I can present at the moment about what it means to conform to the image of Christ. It's to watch him very carefully, to be amazed, to wonder out loud, "How'd he do that?" and to proclaim with every fiber of my being, "I can be like that! I want to be like that!"

I was reading the remarks under the various You Tube videos of the "Like Mike" commercial that I "screened" before choosing the one in the link above. I was laughing to see the statements that basically said, say what you want about other great basketball players -- Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, Carmelo Anthony, whomever -- just realize that every morning, they wake up singing this song!

I loved that; this idea that my passion for "greatness" should be driven by this unwavering desire to be like Jesus; not because of some power trip or ego lock down, but because He has shown me the "everything" that comes with being like Him; and I want it.

I think I lost my train of thought big time! Oh yeah ... this idea of "seeking guidance" as a spiritual discipline. Perhaps that "seeking" is best understood as a journey of discovery that plays itself out one day at a time; one hour at a time; one minute at a time as I seek to imitate Him; sound like Him; think like Him; act like Him; be like Him. Dare I say it ... be mistaken for Him.

Ah, but that's a whole other song and a whole other post...

Community

2010-10-17T12:47:00.010-05:00

I don't feel well today. All morning long, I kept asking myself, am I going to puke or pass out? I'm sharing this tidbit because when I don't feel well, I don't have as much patience. I pasted a smile on my face as I interacted with various people at church.

One of those people was a man named John.

John first visited our church several years ago, when our current pastor arrived on the scene. John was one of his "groupies," but found our church did not offer him the kind of community he says he needs.

I was trying to gently press him on this concept of community -- what exactly is it that he wanted? He characterized our church as "mostly older people" and "the women ..." (he was referring to the Santa Maria ladies, whom I affectionately call the rehab girls).

He asked me to tell him how our outreach ministry with them got started, so I did. Then he commented that not many of them seemed to stay around; that the congregation was very transient; and I agreed.

"Well I need more community than that," he said.

There it was again, that term -- community. It was starting to rub me the wrong way. He had not been to our church in over a year and apparently, to him, very little had changed.

Before writing this post, I looked up the word "community" at dictionary.com. I like words. I like to be clear about their meaning. Here's what the definition said: a social, religious, occupational, or other group sharing common characteristics or interests and perceived or perceiving itself as distinct in some respect from the larger society within which it exists.

"We are a community," I challenged him gently. "We're a different kind of community, but we're a community." (And glancing at the definition above and an excerpt from Richard Rohr below, I stand by my assertion.)

Rohr writes in his Oct. 15, 2010 daily mediation:

Community is a way of being present to another person so that another person can be present to you. It’s a quality of being, a style of relating. It makes room inside of you so that there is room for others within; it frees you so that you can get out of yourself and connect with others. You become touched and touchable, supporting and supportable.

I could summarize Jesus’ teaching as symbolized in what some call “universal table fellowship.” He is always eating with new people, the wrong people, women at a men’s symposium, non-Jews, and sinners, and ignoring all the purity codes of how, when, and where that his religion required at that time. He forms new unity wherever he goes. Today the church often makes it very hard for us to do the same. Did Jesus change his policy after he died?

As we were talking, a young woman approached me. She interrupted our conversation. "I'm sorry Ms. Tammy, I just wanted to tell you that I can't be in class tomorrow because I have drug court. So I wanted to give you a hug and thank you for always being so nice."

I smiled shyly and hugged her back. I wished her luck and told her I hoped to see her next week. (She is among the women with whom Jesus would have practiced "universal table fellowship" and for whom he would have been scorned for doing so. But I will stand with Jesus on this one!)

Turning back to John, I explained to him that our church had come to embrace its role as a transitional church for people like the rehab girls. We would love for them to stay. But more than likely, they will not.

"Take that young woman who just interrupted us," I said. "I have no idea what her name is, but she treats me like family. Our church has impacted her life. We've been a wrung on the ladder to God for her. That's what we see as our role..."

We continued to talk and he continued to try to justify this need of his for community. All the while, I was thinking, why is he so insistent on telling me this? And why is he here?

He wondered, was it the neighborhood that kept our community from growing? (Again with the community!) I said, "Well many of the people who live in this area cross I-10 to go to church." (I assured him that was fine with me.) "What we're finding," I continued, "is that the people who do visit and stay do so because, for lack of a better term, they fall in love with our ministry."

I asked, "Have you gone to any of our classes on Sunday morning?" He said, yes, once, but the person who was the closest to his age turned out to be someone who had just been released from serving a life sentence in prison and he didn't think that would be a good person for him to be around.

"Oh I see," I said. (I confess I deserve an Oscar nomination for the extent to which I did not react to this outrageous statement.)

I told him we were beginning to grow since he had last visited us. I told him we now had a young adult class on Sundays. I also told him about a new men's breakfast on Wednesday mornings.

I walked a few steps to our information table and found the postcard about the breakfast. Handing it to him, I said, "Perhaps this will give you the kind of community you need."

We shook hands and I told him I hoped to see him again soon.

I walked away, smiling mischievously, wondering what God intended for this man's life and how much longer would he keep resisting it?

They Stood at a Distance

2010-10-06T17:54:00.002-05:00

In Luke 17, we are told that while Jesus is traveling along the border of Samaria and Galilee, he encounters 10 men with leprosy who cry out for mercy, that they might be healed. Luke tells us, “They stood at a distance…” when they called out to Jesus.

There are many reasons we find ourselves at a distance from God. Usually, no always, we have placed ourselves there, either because we move away from God or we believe that we cannot approach God. The latter is a huge misunderstanding on our part of what God is like and is perhaps a coping mechanism for dealing with our own human frailty.

Do we avoid the topic of our guilty conscience by staying at a distance? Or do we believe our shortcomings are hidden from God’s view? Or worse, do we act as “God” and pronounce judgment over ourselves, throwing ourselves into exile?

It seems we must believe that God truly accepts us, whatever that might mean in terms of what he is accepting in us, before we can “cure” ourselves of standing at a distance. Humanity tells us in unloving tones, “You dare not approach God.” But God says nothing of the sort.

... and we are not saved

2010-09-24T06:55:00.003-05:00

The focus this week in a spiritual formation class I am taking is Lectio Divinia, which is a reflective way of reading scripture for the purpose of allowing the scripture to read you. Through a process of reading, meditating, praying and contemplating, Lectio Divinia gives God access to us, that we may hear his words and truly take them into our day.

In practicing Lectio Divinia, you are to read a passage and wait for a word or phrase to "pop out," thus becoming the word or phrase you meditate on. The challenge is to allow a verse to choose you instead of you choosing the verse. Of course, the thoughts that are pressing on your mind tend to color this first important step; it is difficult to shut off one's mind.

I continue to think about the church's financial struggles; our business manager punctuating every staff meeting with, "Don't spend any money unless you have to...;" staring at my "shopping cart" at Amazon.com, asking, "If I just buy 20 Bibles, will the church be able to pay this bill;" seeing my paycheck envelope in my slot at the office and thinking, "Looks like we made payroll again;" learning weekly updates on the "yellow envelope campaign," a special effort to encourage extra giving; hearing a staff member set the ambitious goal of grossing $40k from our annual Fall Fest; processing the strife as we watch one another, judge one another, react to one another.

These are all the thoughts that I brought to Lectio Divinia this morning. After reading Jeremiah 8:19-9:1, is it any wonder that this is the verse that supposedly popped out:

"The harvest is past,
the summer has ended,
and we are not saved."
-- Jeremiah 8:20

Here are my reflections:

How does God define the harvest and the state of being saved? Do we impose deadlines upon God and then act amazed that he does not respond to them? Do we focus on our own abilities -- striving, striving, striving -- then feel dejected when God doesn't sprinkle magic fairy dust over our striving? We must trust every day, week to week, without putting demands on God for visible proof. If the proof is readily given, don't we tend to take the credit for the outcomes? Are we not more aware of our need and our ultimate salvation the more desperate we become? We say God in in control. Do we really believe that? Are we willing to allow that and to be uncomfortable for however long God chooses that season to be? Who are we to announce that the harvest is past and that summer is ended? Are we in charge of the seasons, literally and figuratively?

More than 18 years ago, I was pregnant with my eldest daughter. I was having a high risk pregnancy. Doctors were saying things to me like, "I guess you know things look pretty grim at this point." A voice in my head said, "I guess you'll just have to trust me." Having no one else to trust but God was strangely comforting then. The same should be true now.

For me, today, that seems to be the message.

And so it goes

2010-09-19T22:13:00.003-05:00

It’s been 2 ½ months since my Father passed away. About a month after his death, I received a booklet in the mail from the “Hands of Christ” group at my church. It was a booklet on grieving, with promises of more booklets to come.

Life continues to be a challenge. Who doesn’t have challenges in their life? Since my Father’s death, I’ve negotiated several “life events,” including sending the second of our four children off to college, experiencing some personal health issues and going back to school myself. I guess I’ve been distracted from the “task” of grief.

Tonight I was at a fundraising event for an organization called NewSpring, whose goal is to revitalize Spring Branch, which is where our church is located. I ran into a Pastor whom I met through another Spring Branch group comprised of people in ministry. He knew that my Dad had died and asked how I was. I told him that oddly, I had dreamt about my Dad the last two nights. I also mentioned the booklet I had received; how I had read about ¾ of it and found, emotionally, that I could not finish it. He gently reminded me that, especially for people in ministry, we have to take care of ourselves and do the difficult work of grieving.

I heard a sermon on Saturday in which the pastor was commenting on our society’s tendency to share everything. He used the acronym TGIF – twitter, google, instant messaging and facebook. He asked, When was the last time you kept something to yourself and didn’t share it with anyone? So I am reluctant to write about any of this.

But on the other hand, my Pastor friend tonight encouraged me to do the work of grieving; and for me, for someone who finds “life” in written expression, this blog serves that purpose well.

The cable went out tonight and we couldn’t watch our “favorite” TV show. So … I finished reading the booklet. I couldn’t get past 4 words without the tears welling up. I am mystified. Years ago, I used to wonder if I would cry at my Father's funeral (I did). It seems I need to get a handle on exactly what I am grieving.

I never felt particularly close to my Father; yet he was my Father. I was always more of the parent in our relationship; yet he was my Father. He manipulated, he whined, he used guilt, he burdened me with his grown-up problems at a young age; yet he was my Father. He always talked about himself, rarely asked about me; yet he was my Father. He practiced performance-based love and I could never quite measure up; yet he was my Father. Even a man who didn’t meet my expectations, my emotional needs for a Father -- even such a man should not have to go through the indignity and suffering that he did as he slowly died of Alzheimer’s.

After all, he was my Father.

I will never have the Father I wanted or needed. Frankly, I ask God at times, why is that? Why was I deprived of this need in my life? How might my life have been different if the situation had been otherwise? I will never know.

And so this strange journey of vaporous grief continues. When I attend to it, it is quite painful indeed. I know I can't keep dodging. If nothing else, I suppose that realization is a good thing …

One of those Sundays

2010-09-05T15:45:00.002-05:00

One of the women at Santa Maria – let’s say her name is Nicole -- had her baby baptized today. Last Sunday, she came to me to announce she was ready to renew her baptismal covenant. She had met with a member of the ministry team about this previously, so I had her paperwork all in order. What I hadn’t understood is that another person’s name on my “list” was actually her infant daughter, whom she wanted to have baptized. Realizing the mistake, I said, “Oh, OK, well let’s have you come forward next week, the same time your baby is baptized.”

I also explained to her that in addition to renewing her baptismal covenant, she would need to join the church if we were to baptize the baby. The United Methodist church views infant baptism as a covenant between the parents and congregation, thus the parents must be a part of the congregation. As always, I assured her I was not trying to pressure her to join the church, but this was our requirement for infant baptism.

Well, Nicole was fine with this answer, she would be happy to join the church, but still she wanted to know, could I take her photo? You see, when the ladies renew their baptismal covenant or are baptized, we give them a certificate and take their photo. I assured her I would take her photo the next week, with her baby, but it seems she had worn something special and wanted her photo taken this week. (This is where, I confess, I begin to count to ten in my head.)

So I took the photo and showed it to her. She asked, “Could I have one that is full-length, not just the shoulders up? (The counting began again.) After church and again at Spirituality class the next day, Nicole asked me, "You're going to baptize my baby next week, right?" Yes, Nicole, I promise. It will happen!

Fast forward to today, one week later, and here comes Nicole. Her baby is here, her extended family is here, the photos are taken, the certificates are filled out, she is blissfully content.

This is the part where I tell myself what a faithful servant I am, accommodating the women with all their various requests. Hooray for me! Only here's how God interrupted my private fan club meeting.

Three of the women who were a part of Nicole’s extended family were former clients of Santa Maria: Shondra, Teresa and Sherry. Of course, I did not realize this until each of them came up to me and hugged me and gave me an update on their lives, eventually explaining that they were here for Nicole. I was absolutely flabbergasted.

I remember Shondra the clearest. On her last Sunday, which was probably about 6 months ago, she assured me she would be back. Finally, thanks to Nicole, here she was. And as I spoke to her, I thought to myself, there is another reason Shondra is here.

After church, Sherry came to me and made a little speech about how much she appreciated the help I gave her at Santa Maria, the role I had played in her recovery, and how she wanted to thank me. Wow, I was overwhelmed. She gave me her phone number and said, “I’m going to get me some transportation by the first of the year, then I want to come back and talk to the ladies and tell them, if I can do it, you can do it.”

The wheels in my head started spinning. The thought returned. There's another reason Sherry is here.

My buddy Kim was also in church. Wouldn't you know it, Shondra knew Kim! I paused again. There's another reason Kim is here.

Kim is a “grad” of the program, too -- only at Bonita House, not Santa Maria. We had just had coffee on Friday and she had shared with me her dream of opening a halfway house in the Spring Branch area.

Likewise, I shared with Kim my dream of the “next step” in our church’s outreach ministries; something for the treatment center “grads,” designed by the “grads,” and run by the “grads.” I have absolutely no idea what it could be, but I have it in my mind to begin assembling a launch team of women in recovery -- all the Shondras and Sherrys and Nicoles and Kristens and Teresas and Kims -- who will sit and pray and think big, impossible thoughts with me.

Kim also told me about a friend named Kristen she had visited recently who had just had her baby in prison. I blinked hard and asked, "Is she at Bonita House now?" Kim explained, yes, at Bonita House, but part of this "other" program called BAMBI. I could hardly believe it. Since April, I had been meeting with a new group known as the BAMBI clients. I knew exactly who Kristen was. It was eerie, nearly supernatural, and as I think about it now, it's almost as if Kristen is going to be a part of "it" too.

I confess it is very exciting. Yet unlike the last time I had these thoughts of “something is about to happen,” instead of sitting back and waiting for it to smack me in the face, I’m going to pursue it, whatever “it” may be.

Nathan the PK

2010-09-01T17:33:00.002-05:00

On Wednesdays, I go to Turning Point. That's the homeless shelter in our church's neighborhood. I eat lunch and talk to people and try to just be casual with them. I always wear my church badge because the whole idea is, "Look how normal church people are!"

There are residents there who say, "Hey, look, there's the church lady." It makes me smile. I like being their church lady.

Today, I had a meeting at 11:30 a.m., so I knew I couldn't stay for lunch. I arrived about 10:45 a.m. with the idea of hanging out for about 30 minutes, making a few connections. They have a covered area in the courtyard with 3 or 4 picnic benches (and lots of ash trays). I guess it was too hot today because the place was empty.

I talked to David for a few minutes. He is a native of China who obviously has some mental health issues. I often remind him, "David, English, speak English," when he lapses into Chinese. I also talked to "Tammy #2," a resident who is also named Tammy, a guy named Andre whom I have not seen for more than a year (thought he was six feet under for sure), and another David -- a man who has joined the church and is pretty active.

There were two guys directly above me on the 2nd floor landing. They were both young guys -- in there mid to late 20s. I can't remember the wise crack I made to initiate conversation, but they laughed and wise cracked something back. Then I turned back to one of the Davids and talked to him some more. That's when I heard, "So what church are you from?"

I swung around and peered back up to the second floor. One of the two guys was still standing there. I said, "Terrace Methodist, just down the street on Wirt Road," and I tried to point in the right direction. He corrected my pointing, "Wirt is THAT way..." He asked, "Is it close enough to walk to?" I said, sure, but why do that? We drive our vans here on Sunday mornings. He says, "Oh ... you're the van church!"

Yep, that's us. The van church.

Craning my neck still, I kept asking him questions. His name is Nathan. He's a preacher's kid. His Dad pastored nondenominational churches, specializing in planting new churches. I said, "Oh, a PK, that explains a lot!" He joined me in laughing. Seems he attended at least 12 different schools growing up; and was also home schooled for a while. We talked about home schooling, when it works, when it doesn't, how he and his younger sister were adopted, and how he really felt like he was ready to get back in church again.

It was nearing 11:15 a.m. I called out one last time, "Well, I gotta go. But I hope to see you on Sunday."

He smiled back. "Well, maybe you will!"

Does it matter?

2010-09-01T17:17:00.002-05:00

I was driving back from Bonita House on Tuesday. This is a residential drug treatment facility for women in crisis. As usual, I was processing the day's events and asking myself, "Am I doing something important here? Does it matter?"

I have been teaching here for about 1 1/2 years. I have mixed feelings about it. The facility is 19 miles away. And the classes last about 2 1/2 hours total (Sometimes 3, like yesterday). That's 3 1/2 hours on a 20 hour week for a facility that is outside our church's community.

I had resolved recently that the role of our church is to serve as a "transitional" church in our community, especially for the women at the rehab facility just down the street. But are we to serve as a transitional church for the city of Houston? (I thought the answer was "no.") Aren't there other churches out there that could minister to the women at Bonita House? Where are they? Why aren't they doing something? And if they don't, does the responsibility necessarily fall to our church?

If I weren't spending the 3 1/2 - 4 hours at Bonita House, what might I be doing? I know I am processing ideas about the "next step" in our outreach ministries -- some kind of support service or meeting for those who have discharged from the rehabs and are trying to get on with life. We make such a profound connection with them while they are there. How can we continue it? It seems the women themselves should be at the ground floor of designing and developing this next "step." How do I do it? How will it all happen? And is that a better use of my time?

I often tell the ladies, stop thinking about God's will for your life in rigid, linear terms. God's will is not necessarily point A to point B to point C to point D and so forth. It's more about approaching life in a certain way; it's about the way you live in communion with God, yourself and others, understanding that the goal is to learn how to do a better job of loving and to be transformed into the image of Christ. That being said, why do I let my own head get stuck in "the best" use of my time? The "best" ministry activities to involve myself in, as if only "the best" ones have value?

When I leave Bonita House each week, 90% of the time, I think, "That was significant." Is it the best use of my time? I think the women I am with would probably say yes, it is.

In a world where you are trying to position yourself as God's servant, you can get too wrapped up in obsessive thoughts that actually yank you out of servant mode. Well, at least I can, all the while asking myself again, "This stuff I'm doing, does it matter?"

The Dumb Card

2010-08-28T13:38:00.003-05:00

Playing the dumb card is a pretty good idea at times. I have used it plenty of times in pushing the envelope, so to speak, at the rehab facilities where I teach spirituality.

"Oh, I'm not allowed to give the ladies Bibles? ..."

"What, we can't take them to an NA meeting? Really?"

"Seriously, they shouldn't have music cd's with Christian songs on them? My goodness, I had no idea!"

The other day, one of the ladies told me, "Ms Tammy, I'm about to switch into the HUD program (a client group funded by a completely different governmental agency). I don't know if they'll keep letting me come to spirituality or not..."

I told her, just play dumb and walk on in. "Oh, I'm not allowed to come to class now? I had no idea."

I told the ladies, "Playing dumb can be a good strategy, but I didn't say that ... And if you say I did, I'll deny it ... but I didn't say that either."

They laughed to hear the church lady being devious.

My husband and I were having breakfast with several other church members this morning, talking about the landscape at our church. I shared my theory of the dumb card with them as well. You know how certain people at church just live to fixate on the negative? The gossip mongers? The people who could suck every bit of oxygen out of a room? Well, just play dumb with them. If they complain about something at the church or spew anxiety or negativity, just say, "Wow, I had no idea. I mean, there are just so many great things going on at the church right now!"

Which leads to the next question. Did Jesus play the dumb card? When the idea for this post popped into my head, I started on the brain scan to think of scripture that sort of implied that.

Remember when an expert in the law addressed Jesus as, "Good teacher..." and then asked about the greatest commandment? Jesus immediately replied, "Why do you call me good? There is only one who is good..."

And what about the time the brother said to Jesus, "Tell my brother to divide the inheritance with me." Jesus responded, "Who appointed me a judge between you?"

Or the time when Jesus has been teaching the crowds all day and one of the disciples tells Jesus that he should send the crowds away so they can find some food and he deadpans, "You feed them."

The dumb card ... the unexpected answer. It certainly makes people stop and think about what is going on. Sometimes the best faith response is to disrupt human emotion and engage people's brains. It begs the question, "Do you hear what you are saying/suggesting/doing right now? Really?? Seriously???"

Forrest Gump's Mom said, "Stupid is as stupid does." But dumb ... well, that's a whole other matter.

You might be a heretic...

2010-08-20T16:30:00.007-05:00

I was participating in a "theological discussion" (aren't you impressed) at SMU on Thursday and my round table was talking about ... well, they were talking about conversion. Several people were speaking passionately about finding the nonbelievers and bringing them into the church; that was the goal. Of course, I had to add my two cents about how my ministry was focused more on kingdom building than church building and that made some people in my congregation (those who are forced to watch the bottom line) very anxious.

One of the people at my table has to deal with the anxiety of giving and budgets all the time. He is a local pastor at two churches (this is not this same as an ordained clergy, but someone who has undergone special training in order to be able to serve communion, baptize and perform weddings, along with all those other clergy duties that happen 24/7). He said, "You have to be careful because if you make people mad, they will stop giving money to the church."

Remember that sound Al Pacino made in "scent of a woman" ... OOOH-WAH! I hear ya brother, but I really, really hate that reality. I confess I struggle with people who seem to believe they can hold the church hostage by withholding their support (and support can be on several different levels).

Our church is going through a financial challenge right now (church speak for, "we're broke.") I say, start encouraging people to tell stories about how our church's ministries have changed their lives in a most profound, surprising and refreshing way. Others say, "Well let's just send everyone a letter and ask them for more money now." I feel ya, brother. James 4:2 says you have not because you ask not. I just don't like the idea, as Pastor Bill used to say, of presenting Jesus as a beggar looking for alms.

Well, I flew off my original train of thought, which was this notion of saving the unchurched. It was very obvious that several people were hot and heavy on the idea of converting the heathens (but we don't call them that because we love them so much). Now if I'm not mistaken, Jesus said in the Great Commission in Matthew's gospel that we are to go out and make DISCIPLES of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son & Holy Spirit and teaching them everything Jesus had commanded them (the original disciples, to whom he was speaking).

Making a disciple is different from making a convert. A convert is someone who professes faith in Jesus Christ and is baptized and receives the gift of the Holy Spirit. Heaven help us if it all ends there! In contrast, a disciple is someone who embraces a particular teaching or way of life and teaches others to do the same.

I will go so far as to say that discipling should occur before, during and after conversion.

I'm not too crazy about taking an approach to salvation that really is just a fire insurance policy. See, I'm a United Methodist and we believe that salvation is the freedom from the guilt of sin and freedom from the power of sin. That's a whole lot more than "...and you won't go to hell." When our faith is all about fire insurance, suddenly Jesus' promise of living abundantly (that's living, not surviving) goes right out the window.

I confess I did not say at the round table, "I think conversion is totally overrated." Yeah, they would have tossed me out of there. And I don't believe that anyway. I'm just saying ... just saying ... that putting a proverbial notch on the conversion belt is not what Jesus had in mind. There's much, much more.

I will end with sharing a comment from the lecturer that day, Joerg Rieger, a professor at SMU's Perkins School of Theology. He said that we often make the mistake in urban ministry of believing we are bringing God to those in the inner city, as if God had left at some point when we did as a part of the flight to the suburbs. Instead, we need to discover what God has been doing since we've been gone and join in his efforts. I loved it! I nearly stormed the podium and kissed him on the cheek. But then that may not have made a favorable impression either.

The Servant Song

2010-08-15T14:28:00.001-05:00

Brother, sister, let me serve you,
let me be as Christ to you;
pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

We are pilgrims on a journey;
we’re together on the road.
We are here to help each other walk the mile and bear the load.

I will hold the Christ light for you in the nighttime of your fear;
I will hold my hand out to you,
speak the peace you long to hear.

I will weep when you are weeping;
when you laugh, I’ll laugh with you.
I will share your joy and sorrow till we’ve seen this journey through.

When we sing to God in heaven,
we shall find such harmony,
born of all we’ve known together of Christ’s love and agony.

The above lyrics are from a hymn that we sang in our Traditional service this morning in church. I confess I have never heard it before. We have a minister visiting with us from Great Britain right now as part of a pulpit exchange and I assume this hymn is from a hymnal in the UK. I just don’t know. I only know that the lyrics, combined with the rest of the service today, blew me away.

The pastor shared stories and slides from a trip he and his wife took to Kenya some four years ago. One slide in particular on a slum in Keberia and the accompanying narrative left me speechless. I was immediately reminded of the abject poverty I had seen first-hand in my trips to Matamoros, Mexico. Yes, people in communities everywhere really do live and survive in horrific living conditions. Yet this time, instead of being overwhelmed with thoughts of how anything I may try to do to alleviate anyone’s life conditions may seem insignificant in the scheme of things, there was an experience of humanity that resonated through it all.

I remembered that it is God who weaves all of our lives and experiences and resources and desires and callings together. I was reminded that I don’t need to focus on the impact I am able to make on the world, but on one person. The Gospels are full of stories of Jesus having one-on-one encounters. He never dismissed a single soul with thoughts of, “Eh, a drop in the bucket of human suffering. What difference can I make?” Instead, he set about doing all the good he could within the limits of his human frame.

John Wesley said, “the world is my parish.” By that, he meant that he felt called to speak to peoples everywhere, but still, even though he often preached to the crowds, it was individuals, one at a time, who were touched, transformed, changed forever.

God goes about saving the world one soul at a time. My goodness, transform one life and you have absolutely no idea what the long-term affect might be; how many more lives this life might touch.

And if I were to spend my entire life serving Christ yet only managed to have a positive influence on one person, I believe – I have to believe – that God’s response would be the same as if I had been another Billy Graham: “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

Look again at the lyrics in the song above. Notice the 2 stanzas I have printed in red. In applying these lyrics to myself, the words speak to me as acting as one person, touching the life of one person. No big numbers or statistics, just one individual participating in the suffering of another in order that no soul should feel abandoned, hopeless, alone.

That, friends, is the Gospel of Jesus Christ in its purest form. “As I have loved you, love one another.”

Hemmorhage

2010-08-13T16:45:00.000-05:00

I’m in a place in my mind that I travel to at times. Actually, I am a reluctant tourist. It’s the place that says, with so much need everywhere, what difference does it really make what I do?

It’s sort of a self-righteous place, too. It is usually influenced by thoughts of being frustrated with my church’s bunker mentality. Oh don’t get me wrong, we are fairly outreach-driven for a church of our size, location and denomination. Maybe I’m just never satisfied.

And a place ideal for beating one’s self up.

This week, my husband and I have been Chicago. We have had a few encounters with homeless people, though I confess we must have been in a part of downtown where they are less prevalent (though coming from Houston, I don’t know how that could be possible.)

While walking around one day, I saw several homeless individuals curled up on the steps of a church, sleeping rather fitfully. There were a few here and there, scattered on street corners, talking to themselves, holding signs, extending paper cups to collect spare change. We were enjoying a shaved ice at an outdoor café in the park when a man approached us quite boldly and happily. He asked how we were, extended his hand, complimented my husband on his attractive wife (“She’s pretty … where’d you find her?”). I took his hand and said I was happy to meet him. Then a café employee quickly landed on the scene and shooed him away before he could get two sentences into his story. I confess I felt relieved to have him move on his way; and I also confess that when I saw people begging on the street, I took up conversation with my husband to divert my attention from them.

It just seems like there is this hemorrhage of need and not enough people to stench the flow of blood. I ask myself, “What happened to being so compassionate? So accepting? What happened to all that sanctuary?” Like I said, I doubt my ability to make any significant contribution to the problem and sigh with resignation laced with disgust.

Do what is in your power to do today. But seriously, what is even in my power to do? I feel like people are looking at me and saying, “Yeah, thanks for the friendly smile and handshake, but how about a meal? How about somewhere to sleep tonight? How about a job? How about a bath and some clean clothes? Can you help me with any of those things?”

It’s like offering a band aid to someone who has just gotten their legs blown off. What’s the point?

God Squad

2010-08-10T14:42:00.001-05:00

When we were in college, my husband’s brother was talking about the fraternity he had pledged. Apparently, things weren’t working on; he wasn’t feeling comfortable with the lot of them, whom he mischievously referred to as the God Squad.

That label made me chuckle and I confess, it’s one I use myself from time to time, to playfully describe people who are taking their faith just a tad bit too seriously.

Today I’m wondering if those around me think I’m a member of the God squad. I have several books with me on an airplane bound for Chicago. I have them all packed into a brief case along with my laptop. Several times during the flight, I have opened the brief case either to take out a book or my laptop.

Seriously, what must the people to the right and left of me think? Here’s a sampling of book titles that greet them, should they happen to glance my way in the midst of my packing and unpacking: Celebration of Discipline, What God Wants For Your Life, How God Changes Your Brain, How to Think Theologically.

These are all books that I either need for a class I am teaching or for a class I am taking. I don’t mean to give the impression of carrying with me the personal library of the God squad … it just turns out that way. Of course, the 5th book I have in my brief case, which I swear is also theological in nature, is called Naked Now. Hmmm … that would give an different impression entirely, huh?

Curse of the Youngest

2010-08-10T13:15:00.000-05:00

Years ago, when I was pregnant with my eldest daughter, Rodney King appeared on national television to plea, “Um, can we all just get along here people?”

King was a black man whose on-camera arrest and beating spurred city-wide riots in Los Angeles in 1992. In an effort to end the violence, King made his plea.

I can relate to this sentiment of King’s … “Can we all just get along here?” And I have come to understand that this is the curse of the youngest child: this desire that everyone should get along.

Growing up, I watched from a careful distance as my Father and brothers fought. My brothers received a great deal of corporal punishment at the hands of my Father. I didn’t because I preferred to behave and keep the peace. When things would heat up, whether between my siblings and parents or between my brothers themselves, my deepest desire was that everyone would just get along.

As a parent, I suppose at times I have conceded to one child or another in an effort to keep the peace; or I have not spoken up when my spouse has parented in a manner different from mine; all in the name of keeping the peace.

In the last two years, through the study of Bowen Family Systems, I have come to learn that my anxiety – and in this case anxiety about everyone getting along – can be borne. In fact, recognizing this anxiety so inherent in last-borns has helped me to react less strongly. Instead of pleading in my head, “Can’t we all just get along?” I instead remind myself, it’s OK if everyone doesn’t agree sometimes.

I have said as much to my youngest child, a son who is nearly 13. When I have words either with one of his three siblings or with my spouse, I can see that worried look on his face. He becomes very quiet and appears as if he has retreated in his mind to a far-away place, an emotional bomb shelter, if you will. I have spoken to him about in on several occasions, even requiring that he repeat my “catechism” back to me. “What did I tell you about people?” I say. “That sometimes they don’t get along…” he replies sheepishly. “And what else?” I press. “That it doesn’t mean anything except that sometimes, people don’t get along.”

I was sitting in a fellow staff member’s office the other day. We were reviewing the latest “turf wars” at our church. And just like Rodney King so many years ago, she concluded, “I just want everyone to get along…” I was fairly certain that she was the youngest in her family, but just to make sure, I asked. Yes, she too had this youngest child curse. “You know,” I told her, “it’s very unrealistic to wish or even pray that we’ll all get along. Perhaps it would be better to pray that God would use our disagreements creatively, to advance the Kingdom of God; and not in spite of our bickering but because of our bickering.”

I reminded her that Paul and Barnabas got into a terrible disagreement and ended up parting ways. God didn’t seem to be too terribly upset about it. He didn’t send visions and dreams to either of them that they should patch up their disagreement and behave more like loving children of God. No, he perhaps pronounced a divine “oh well” and sent them both packing, off to advance the Kingdom; and not in spite of their bickering, but because of their bickering.

I hope I will continue to recognize my anxiety about everyone getting along for exactly what it is: anxiety. And I’ll trust God to work it all out – no, to use it all – for his purposes. That’s what makes him God, after all.

It's Going to be OK

2010-08-07T09:14:00.003-05:00

"It's going to be OK." It's a phrase we often say to others when they are going through a difficult time; or one we hear if we are the one experiencing the difficulty.

What in the world prompts people to assert at the worst possible moment, it's going to be OK? Well duh, no one would be stupid enough to say, "Man, you are toast!" No, in an attempt to instantly calm our fears, they present us with a picture-perfect ending wrapped with a pretty ribbon.

Or do they?

Perhaps it is a short-hand response. Perhaps what they really mean is, "Day by day, as you walk through this challenge, you are going to feel different things; experience God's presence in different ways; ask questions that have no answers; get angry, get confused, doubt, cry, pray, lament. You will view this situation differently every day; come to accept it gradually, bit by bit, shaped and flavored by each day's response to it. How you perceive and define it today is very different from how you will a week from now. But in order to get to a week from now, you have to walk through the next six days, one day at a time. That's all a part of the process."

Or the next six weeks. Or the next six months. Or the next six years. It all depends on the particular situation.

It appears that the process benefits us, especially to the extent that we acknowledge and explore God's presence in the midst of it all. In the end, perhaps we even come to embrace the process; welcome it as a long, lost friend; cherish its profound affect upon us.

And conclude ... It's going to be OK.

Joy

2010-07-25T16:36:00.005-05:00

"... I will put beautiful crowns on their heads in place of ashes.

I will anoint them with oil to give them gladness instead of sorrow.

I will give them a spirit of praise in place of a spirit of sadness..."

-- Isaiah 61:3

I just returned from a week in Tyler, Texas with our church youth group at U.M. Army, which seeks to provide assistance to needy and elderly residents of communities all over Texas by performing various build and repair projects on their homes.

When I arrived in Temple on Sunday night, I was crashing physically and emotionally, having endured the sudden death of my Father the previous Sunday and his funeral and burial on Thursday and Friday. I was exhausted in every way you can be exhausted. And I said to myself (and to God), how will I do this? How will I survive this week?

I don't think it's any accident that while I was hauling all my gear upstairs to the girl's sleeping quarters that I heard a David Crowder song blaring from our Youth Director's laptop in a nearby room -- You are My Joy.

Crowder bursts out in the refrain of this song, "You are my joy, you are my joy, you are my joy, you are my J O Y !!!!!"

Today, I can honestly say that the one word I would use to describe the last seven days of my life is ... joy.

Our first client was an elderly couple who needed help with clearing brush and vines out of their yard. What a joyful soul the man of the house was. Mr. T, who was 83 years old, insisted on helping us the entire time. He couldn't say enough nice things about me and my team and I was ... amazed. It fed and comforted my soul to hear a man ... a man very close to my Father's age ... praise me to the heavens for something that seemed so small, so minimal to me. But it was not to him.

On "client night," which is a night of celebrating dinner and worship with the clients we have helped during the week, Mr. T and his wife were there. I told him, "It means so much to me that you came to client night." Calling me by name (and I have no idea why this touched me so, but he had the habit of beginning every sentence with my name), he replied, "Tammy, if I had to crawl on my hands and knees, there wasn't anything that could have kept me from being here!"

Our second client, Ms. Earline, was an 87-year-old widow with seven kids and I don't even know how many grandkids, great grandkids and great great grandkids. I only THOUGHT Mr. T was the most joyful person in Temple. This elderly woman who lived in a house so dilapidated that they need a new word for it was so joyful, I swear she punctuated every sentence with laughter.

One of our tasks was to repaint her bedroom ceiling. Someone had really messed up the job previously. The paint was actively peeling from the ceiling in big chunks, landing on Ms. Earline while she slept at night! We had to cover all the furniture and floor in the entire bedroom with drop cloths so we could somehow scrape the ceiling (which we did with brooms at her suggestion) and then repaint it. In the process, we had removed all the pictures from her wall. One of the pictures was a nicely framed print depicting a shotgun shack and two women hanging laundry on the front lawn while a man sat rocking on the porch. I loved the honesty and history of the picture, telling Ms. Earline what a fine picture it was (in truth, it was likely her most valuable possession). She told me, "I used to live in a house just like this one!"

On the last day at her site, while putting her bedroom back together again, I remarked on the picture again and asked, "Ms. Earline, which of your daughters are you going to give this picture to?" She said she didn't know and didn't reckon any of them wanted it. I remarked that was hard for me to believe, then returned to my work outside.

Minutes later, one of my kids said, "Ms. Earline wants you..." I returned inside, wondering what new job she had uncovered (as she had been pointing to more and more projects each day). In fact, on the previous day, when she asked could we put yet another coat on the window frames, I replied, "Ms. Earline, if you keep giving us more jobs, we won't finish painting your house before we leave tomorrow. Then what will you do?" Without missing a beat, she replied, "Well, I'll just hug your neck and tell you I love you!"

Anyway, when I came back into Ms. Earline's bedroom, she said, "I want YOU to have this picture." I was overwhelmed. "Oh no mam, I couldn't possibly accept this!" But she insisted, "No, I want you to have it. I've been trying to think of a gift I could give you and I want you to have this."

Her offer touched me deeply, so after checking with one of my supervisors, who assured me, "It's her gift to give...," I accepted it. Placing it carefully in our vehicle, I assured her, "Ms. Earline, this picture means so much to me. I'll think of you every time I look at it. I'll never forget you."

Every day last week, I think I laughed more than I have in the last year. There was always something funny happening, mostly in the drive to the job sites as our team got lost repeatedly. Each day, it was a different kid's job to be navigator, which took them entirely out of their comfort zone but provided a great deal of laughter as we missed turns or went in the opposite direction.

One morning in particular, me and one of the kids had the giggles so bad on the way to the work site, I could barely breathe. I thought I was going to have to pull over to regain my composure.

While unpacking yesterday, I looked at the photo that was taken of me on the previous Sunday night when we arrived in Temple. I looked so tired, so haggard, so old, so spent (my sweet husband reading over my shoulder as I finish this post begs to differ, but I know better). The contrast to my reflection in my bathroom mirror today was startling.

Crowder's song ends with these words: "... and I'm laughing so hard, I'm laughing so hard, I'm laughing so hard, I'm laughing so hard..."

Joy. Just what the doctor ... the Great Physician ... ordered.

Shell casing

2010-07-18T08:52:00.003-05:00

When my Dad was buried at the VA cemetery on Friday, he received full military honors, including a 21-gun salute. I confess the service was very touching. My brother wandered over to the men with the rifles and asked for some of the shell casings for his young sons. They gave him 3 and the remaining 18 to my Dad's wife. I took one of the shell casings from him.

I don't know why this metaphor for my Father's death intrigues me. I placed the shell on my desk. In fact, I am glancing at it now. The trauma of the shot being fired changed the shape and color of the casing slightly. And isn't that just the way life is?

As we age, this fleshly tent changes and evolves, marked by the events and experiences of life. When we die, the physical progression is "suspended" for a time, thanks to embalming fluid and heaven knows what else.

The casing on my desk is hard metal. Funny, that is exactly how my Father's flesh felt to me when I touched him repeatedly in the coffin and talked and cried over him for a good 15-20 minutes. I placed my hand over his and tried to hold it. I patted his chest. I put my face next to his in a last embrace, afraid to kiss him only because my lipstick might leave a mark.

I don't know why I needed to have all this physical contact with my Father's body, with his shell casing. I knew it wasn't "really" him, but it was the closest thing I could get to at that moment. And when the coffin was closed before the service began, when his shell disappeared from view, I felt it in the depths of my soul: goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

One of the last things I said to my Father was, "See you on the other side, Dad." I promised him it would all be good then.

Prayer and anxiety

2010-07-17T17:18:00.003-05:00

My husband and I are on the cusp of finishing a book called The Cornerstone Concept by Roberta Gilbert, which is a book about being an effective leader through the application of Bowen Family Systems Theory. We have been studying "systems" for nearly 2 years and it has been both enlightening and beneficial.

Today we read a chapter about the effects of prayer on reducing anxiety. (And if you have no need to reduce anxiety in your life, stop reading now.) The chapter was written by Victoria Harrison, a member of the faculty of Bowen Center for the Study of the Family as well as an accomplished author and clinical practitioner in systems theory.

I am only going to briefly discuss Harrison's article, as I cannot do it justice in the few minutes I have to write this post. Basically, Harrison uses two case studies to show the difference that prayer can make in reducing anxiety and emotional reactivity in individuals. Using technology known as biofeedback, which measure physiological reaction by examining respiration rate, heart rate, skin temperature, and brain wave activity (to name a few), Harrison determined that certain types of prayer greatly decreased emotional reactivity and anxiety.

Specifically, the test subject whose grandmother raised him in a mainline protestant church and whose prayer life was centered on "counting his blessings" was significantly less anxious and reactive after a time of prayer. By comparison, the test subject who came from more of a charismatic background and experienced conversion in a prison setting in which prayer centered on the "casting out" of demons; and whose prayer time focused more on confessing his sins and begging forgiveness was more anxious and reactive after prayer.

More anxious after prayer. Isn't that amazing?

What I conclude from these findings (and of course two subjects is quite limited in the world of research) is that using our prayer time to beat ourselves up is not only futile, it may just be harmful.

What is this obsession with asking forgiveness over and over and over again? Don't misunderstand me, I am not suggesting that confession is not an important aspect of prayer. I am merely saying, let's confess a particular sin or shortcoming and move on with it. To continue to bring the same thing up, I believe, shows a lack of faith in terms of our belief that if we confess our sins, He is faithful to forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness (1 John 1:9).

The next verse in that passage says, "If we claim we have not sinned, we make him out to be a liar and his word has no place in our lives." I want to suggest here that asking forgiveness over and over again, as if God refuses to forgive us until we ask a certain number of times, or become sufficiently upset with ourselves while asking, or experience a sufficient amount of shame and guilt is as "bad" as claiming we have not sinned in the first place.

Why do we think it is noble or righteous or pious to a beat ourselves up in this manner? Why do we believe that this is what God requires of us? This does not sound like my understanding of Grace -- God's unmerited favor; God giving me what I do not deserve. Neither does it sound like mercy; God not giving me what I deserve. It just sounds like self-hatred.

(As a side note, I have found that the greatest obstacle experienced by the women I work with who are going through drug and alcohol rehab is self-hatred and the inability to believe that they can be forgiven.)

Are we mocking God and the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ to practice a prayer life that focuses first on our unworthiness instead of God's love? Reading a recent daily devotional by Richard Rohr, I was again reminded that our focus is not to be on our shortcomings, but God's love. We must remind ourselves repeatedly that we are the object of God's love; and he is the Lover. This will always be our role -- the loved; and God will always be the Lover. As Rohr puts it, "Divine love is not determined by the worthiness of the object of love but by the Subject, who is always and only Love. God does not love us if we change, as we almost all think; but God loves us so that we can change."

Perhaps following the example of the test subject who practiced "counting his blessings" in our prayer life would be an extremely healthy practice for all of us, both emotionally and spiritually. And certainly, chief among those blessings is that we serve a God whose property is always to love, to forgive, to exercise compassion, and to work for good in the world.

That truth alone makes me considerably less anxious!

Telling God what to do...

2010-07-13T20:15:00.000-05:00

Pray, pray very much; but beware of telling God what to do. -- French proverb

God answers every prayer. The answer is yes, no or wait. I confess I don't care for the last two answers, but at the same time, thank goodness he has not said ‘yes’ every time I have asked!

God has answered several prayers in the last week. As usual, I was shocked; shocked that God would bother with me; shocked by God's timing; shocked by his precision; and sh0cked by his execution, as he rarely follows my instructions.

Oh, you know what I'm talking about -- giving God turn for turn directions while you pray. It's a practice that is especially prevalent in group prayer. Speaking on behalf of the group, one person speaks out in a rapid fire manner, attempting to pass off bossiness as faithfulness. Yes, we convince ourselves that if we tell God exactly what to do, providing him with several options to choose from, that we are being bold when in fact, we are rattling off so many possibilities, we practice the opposite of trust and obedience and refuse God his God-given right to decide what is best for our lives.

Really, I think a better way to pray is with an attitude of resignation, if you will. The exchange between Peter and Jesus after the resurrection is what I have in mind here. Jesus asks repeatedly, "Peter, do you love (agape) me?" and Peter replies, "Yes, Lord, I love (phileo) you." Ultimately, Peter responds in an attitude of resignation, "Lord you know everything ... you know that I love you."

I wonder if that is all we really need to say anytime we pray? "Lord you know everything ... you know that I love you." That seems to communicate, you are smarter than I am. You are more powerful than I am. You are better equipped to handle my life than I am. You are God. Not me. And I love you. I trust you because I love you. And even when I act like a knuckle head, remember that part, God; remember that I love you.

Who wants to serve a God who we can boss around? Who wants a doormat deity? Certainly not me. I'll stick with a Heavenly Father who is omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent; who can be trusted with all the details of my life; who hasn't missed a second of anything I have experienced; and who prefers me to sit silently and obediently at his feet, listening; listening instead of telling him what to do.

Matthew, Deborah and all points in between

2010-07-05T08:56:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, I was walking someone to the room where our new young adults class is meeting. When I got to the threshold, I saw a familiar face; a young man in his 20s, shoulder length jet black hair, nicely dressed, with a deep, wounded look in his eyes. His name is Matthew and he is the son of one of the rehab facility ladies. His mom discharged in January, but is now back for another go at rehab (possibly her 5th or 6th).

His mom is an example of the reality that my friend Kimberly was explaining to me recently. Kimberly is also a graduate of the rehab facility. We reconnected about 5 months ago when she asked the church for some financial assistance while living in a small treatment home. I learned more of her story through the course of several conversations. Like Matthew's mother, she too had relapsed after discharge. Now, she is nearing her six month chip (she told me with remarkable honesty, "I've been working on this six month chip for a year and a half!")

I had asked Kimberly to help me understand a phenomenon of sorts that was puzzling me. How can it be, I asked her, that after interacting with so many women through our outreach ministries, literally thousands of women, our church has not seen more women "remaining" with us after discharge? I understand that they are from all over the city and that they have all kinds of transitional living situations to work their way through, but surely three or four or ten would make it back to the church over the course of 5 years? WHERE were they?

Kimberly's answer was so obvious yet it had alluded me. "Well, Tammy, a lot of them don't stay sober. Addiction's a b****."

As soon as I heard these words, I thought, of course.

This truth not only gave me a strange sense of relief, it also affirmed what I have come to understand our true mission to be: to serve as a transitional church and be that "wrung" on the ladder for each woman, should she choose to climb toward God. I know we can't "save" them from their issues. I know we are powerless over their addictions. I know it is not our job to keep them in recovery. Our job is to be a cool cup of water for a time; to bring hope and love and acceptance to them in a season of their life when they can find little evidence of it.

And that brings me to Deborah.

I ran into Deborah at an event Friday afternoon that I was volunteering at. I recognized her immediately and for a change, it was me who called out, "Do you remember me???" She smiled brightly then presented her two year old to me. "Ms. Tammy, remember LuLu?" she said. "She was just a baby when I was 'there' and now look how big she is! Another month and I'll be off probation!"

That baby, little LuLu, was a walking testament to her mother's sobriety. Two years. Astounding. And it seemed that Deborah had her life in reasonably good order. She was making it. She was ... progressing.

It was as if the room filled with oxygen. I breathed it in deeply and felt incredibly thankful.

Matthew, Kimberly, Deborah, and thousands of other names that I can't produce from my memory banks. God is with each of them. And God has allowed me to see that.

Even more astounding.

Community

2010-06-26T14:42:00.005-05:00

I went to an outdoor worship service the other night. There were about 30 people there who either lived in nearby apartments or wandered in off the streets. I had been told I would see people from all walks of life. And I did. I saw impoverished, broken, marginalized people who were hungry for comfort, hope and community.

The experience got me thinking about the concept of community. I'm asking myself today, what is the role that community plays in loving and caring for others?

In Matthew 25, Jesus tells the parable of the sheep and goats to help people understand the importance of progressing from professing one's faith to living one's faith:

34"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. 35For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, 36I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'

Jesus goes on to say that those on the King's proverbial right -- those deserving of the Father's inheritance -- have attained this "position" by loving and caring for "the least of these;" that caring for the least of these equals loving God.

At the worship service, I saw people caring for the least of these, trying to offer them hope, feeding their souls, filling their bellies, providing a few other creature comforts, etc. I thought, that is cool. That is what we are supposed to be doing. And that's when it hit me ... community is not pulling people up out of the ditch; it's jumping in there with them.

If we love and care for others with the expectation that "now" perhaps they will better their lives, have we really accepted them on their own turf? Are we playing the part of the benevolent grandma who dries her darlings' tears with her handkerchief, cooing all the while, "There, there dear," and gives them warm cookies and a glass of milk to feel better, all the while maintaining the "distinction" between us and them? Or are we truly placing ourselves in their midst, insisting there is no distinction, living with them as if there is no distinction? Responding to their needs out of a sense of community; but not a sense of community that operates like Robin Hood and has the "haves" giving to the "have nots" while keeping a safe distance, but a community that embraces a responsibility for caring for humanity because, well, because they are us; we are all God's children.

If you go to dictionary.com, the definitions you will see for community include the following:

A social, religious, occupational, or other group sharing common characteristics or interests and perceived or perceiving itself as distinct in some respect from the larger society within which it exists. A group of men or women leading a common life according to a rule.

In other words, to be in community with another is to see yourself standing inside of their hoola-hoop, not next to their hoola-hoop, offering a helping hand while maintaining some sort of a boundary (lest you catch what they have). Perhaps it even means letting go of this need to "fix" the needy and just loving and caring for them exactly where they are. Now that doesn't mean we don't provide assistance such as rent assistance, job training, education, etc. It just means we don't assign more value to people who, through our involvement, "get their lives together" in the way society's defines getting your life together and less value to those who just can't seem to break out of their human frailty.

Community in this sense is a lot like acceptance; sanctuary. It sounds like this: "Come as you are, don't change a single thing about yourself. I like you."

It looks like this: an affluent woman hugging a poor woman and saying to her, "I'm so glad to see you. You are so precious to me. What's going on in your life?" (without registering in her mind that she is an affluent woman hugging a poor woman)

What is more soothing, after all? A doctor who stares at our chart, never once making eye contact, asking questions about our condition and gives orders in a sterile manner to the nurse who accompanies him; or one who stands before us in the examination room, puts down the clip board, leans in and asks genuinely, "How are you doing?"

An individual associated with this particular outdoor ministry told me she used to live in a large house in Memorial, but eventually came to realize what a barrier to ministry her life situation represented. So you know what she did? She moved into one of the apartment complexes targeted by her ministry. She came among them. She stepped inside their hoola-hoop. Isn't that astounding?

Sounds a lot like Jesus, huh?

Sounds a lot like ... community.

Change

2010-06-19T14:17:00.004-05:00

Richard Rohr explores numerous concepts that are new to me in his book The Naked Now. A chapter that I read last night was about changing your mind.

Admit it, when you think about conversion, you imagine an altar call at a old-fashioned tent revival. The preacher is sweating up a storm while waving his Bible and preaching with passion. He calls the sinners forward and the aisles are suddenly clogged with soon-to-be new believers. In this version of conversion, sinners get right with God and make a vow to change their sorry ways, or something like that. It's focused more on changing your behavior than changing your mind.

Rohr begins by looking at Matthew 4:17 and Mark 1:15, which most modern versions render as, "Repent, for the Kingdom of God is at hand." Rohr says the Greek word used her -- metanoia -- quite literally means "change your mind," whereas we have come to understand it as "convert," "repent" or "reform."

"What we have translated as 'repent' is not a moralistic or even church word at all; it is a clear strategy for enlightenment for the world. Once you accept ongoing change as a central program for yourself, you tend to continue growing throughout all of your life," Rohr writes.

(I should mention here that in the previous chapter on conversion, Rohr comments that only people who have been transformed have the power to transform others.)

This idea of changing your mind and having the power to transform others really resonated with me because of the way I have found myself "changing" in my understanding of what God is like in the five years that I have been working with women in recovery from drug and alcohol addiction. Rohr says rather matter-of-factly that God does not exist to be understood by us. Shazam, that one landed right between the eyes.

I've been on this quest to grow in my understanding of what God is like because the way I thought he operated just wasn't showing itself to be true in the lives of the thousands of women I have come in contact with. First, I thought, well, I guess I just had it "wrong" all these years. How did I do that? How could I have been so off-base? But Rohr seems to suggest that it's not about being right or wrong, it is about having your mind changed, over and over and over again.

Changing your mind. That's Rohr-speak for accepting that what you thought you knew, you don't know; and what you don't know, you need to know; and what you need to know, you can know. But it requires prying open your mind.

"Most people have not been offered a different mind, only different behaviors, beliefs and belong systems. They (behaviors, beliefs and belong systems) do not necessarily nourish us, much less transform us. But they invariably secure us and validate us where we already are," Rohr writes. He goes on to say that required behaviors and beliefs are good and necessary to get us started, but if we invest in them too heavily, they soon become places to hide.

Bingo. Bingo, bingo, bingo.

Apparently our human nature fights this idea of our minds going through a constant state of change because such change threatens our fragile egos. Yeah, that's right -- growing in your faith is more about ego transformation than understanding any particular concept.

I confess, at times my knee-jerk reaction to ideas I have never heard before is to dismiss them; to relegate them to the Apostle Paul's prediction that in the latter days, men will cling to teachings their itching ears long to hear. However, that verse is really more about justifying yourself by embracing teaching and "truth" that says what you want to hear than about opening yourself up to new ideas.

Rohr drives the point home when he reminds his readers that people who upset the religious status quo belief system -- people like the prophets and Jesus himself -- usually find themselves dead; killed by their own. Jesus challenged hundreds of rules and teachings and ideas of the religious elite, the supposed experts, and told them to stop focusing on nonsense like whether you could carry a needle in your robe on the sabbath and how much dill and thyme to tithe to God and get serious about Kingdom concepts like love, justice, mercy and meekness.

So ... go ahead. Change your mind about God. Make your ego uncomfortable. Wonder out loud, is that all there is?? Challenge yourself to explore ideas that are new and foreign. Ask yourself, what am I so afraid of? Don't pitch your tent and announce, "I have arrived." Keep going. Keep searching for what Jesus terms the ultimate reality (Kingdom of God).

Value

2010-06-16T16:59:00.002-05:00

We all have value. Not because I say so -- my thoughts, words and actions don't always line up to what I claim is one of my core beliefs -- but because God says so.

Another story about a person who thinks she has very little value -- Tracy. She is a new rehab lady I met on Tuesday; she and her five day old baby, Evan.

Tracy is about as honest as they come. During the course of class, I said, "You don't have to get perfect before God will start loving you. God loves you and accepts you exactly as you are, right now."

Tracy immediately interrupted me. "I don't understand what you just said..."

So I said it again. And she looked stunned.

"Wait, wait ... so can I ask you a question?" Then with a remarkable frankness, she asked if a particular thing was a sin (which I won't write here). I said, I dunno ... is it? And then she countered with another "sin" question; and again, from me, "Hmmm ... that's sort of a grey area."

Finally, I said, look, it's not about following rules. It's about God's free gift of grace offered to us. It's about loving others and knowing you are loved.

She was flabbergasted. "You mean I'm not going to hell for what I've done in the past?" I answered, um ... nah ... I don't think so. God is a lot more merciful than we think.

She was stunned. And frankly, I was stunned that she was stunned. "I've never heard anyone say that before," she said. "So if I try to do the right thing, that's enough?"

Yeah, it is, I said. Then my ministry partner, LyAnna, chimes in, "We're Methodists!" I start laughing and add, yeah, OK, but it's not because we're Methodists ... it's because that's what God's character is really like.

Tracy said she has never really gone to church and never really read the Bible. So I handed her a Bible from my supplies and said, "You should come to our church on Sunday."

And I think she probably will.

The people who know me best know that I am a hypocrite at times. That's not the way I want to be, though. I really want to treat everyone as if they have value; not just the ones on my "broken" list, but everyone I come into contact with. That's what it's really about, after all.

But I confess I'm not there yet ...

Being in the present

2010-06-12T15:16:00.005-05:00

I've written a couple of posts based on the "Just for Today" ideas embraced by 12-step programs like Alcoholics Anonymous. Before I continue in that discussion, I want to share some ideas I have read from Franciscan priest and author Richard Rohr and hold them up to the teachings of Jesus (which is probably a good practice when processing new ideas, assuming you do not become rigid or legalistic in your thinking or convince yourself that you or anyone else has an absolute and comprehensive understanding of the words of Jesus.)

Jesus admonishes his followers not to worry about tomorrow, for today has enough problems of it own. But that whole worrying about tomorrow thing, what is that really about? Why are we so obsessed with it? Or reliving yesterday, for that matter? I'd like to suggest that it's a bad habit of ours that can be traced to our inability or unwillingness to live in the present. To BE present.

One of the aspects of living in the present has to do with understanding in a gentle manner our strengths and weaknesses and looking to God for transformation. I've heard people tell stories of being "instantly" changed, and perhaps they were, or at least they thought they were, but it sure seems like real change, real transformation is a process. Take James. He is a recovering addict. So is his wife. He says that God instantly healed him of his desire for his drug of choice; and that his wife is frustrated that she has not received this same instantaneous healing. I don't want to quibble with James about his experience. I'm more interested in his wife, who, like all of us, is in search of the quick-fix.

I think we can be open to change, we can ask to be changed, but I don't think we can manufacture it, grasp at it or possess it. It is not a commodity to be bought and sold. It is the result of a process. The process is different for each of us and more oft than not, we are powerless within the process.

Sometimes in the midst of activities one might label as self-help, recovery and spiritual formation, we somehow get the idea that we are still in the driver's seat. On the one hand, this seems crazy, especially when you consider that Step 1 of AA reads, "We realized we were powerless..." Yet in the process of working the steps or recovering our lives or pursuing God or other such activities, with tight-fistedness we hold on to the belief that we are in control (because we want to be in control, after all). Yet the scriptures present humankind as fools who grow to wisdom as they embrace the power and presence of God in their lives and come to accept, once and for all, that it is God who really is the author of creation -- and thus, re-creation; change.

In Richard Rohr's book Near Occasions of Grace, the author states:

"God’s only work seems to be enfleshing spirit and inspiriting the flesh; and for us, who have learned to do the same, our life, like John in the womb of his mother, leaps within us for joy! And the one great Incarnation continues."

That is so simple yet so right-on. Enfleshing the spirit -- the incarnation, Jesus Christ; and inspiriting the flesh -- God's spirit abiding in us. Rohr seems to suggest that to the extent we learn to be inspirited -- to the extent we desire it, seek it, surrender to it, lean into it -- we discover a life that leaps for joy within us. What a beautiful and accurate idea.

Likewise, in The Naked Now, Rohr explores the idea of "being present" by comparing the life attitudes of my two favorite NT sisters, Mary and Martha. Martha does not know how to be in the present because she is too bogged down in the meaningless details of being a gracious hostess, which she truly believes is her God-ordained position in life. Now I have no intention of turning this into a feminist manifesto. I'm just saying, as Rohr is saying, that she was focusing on the wrong thing. And you know how you can tell that you are doing the same? (this is Rohr's idea, not mine) No joy.

It's akin to what a dear friend once described to me as the difference between engaging in life-taking activities versus life-giving ones.

In contrast, Mary was focusing on the right thing; and that thing goes deeper than the fact that she sat at the feet of Jesus and listened to his teaching. Sitting at the feet of Jesus was possible for Mary, Rohr says, because she knew how to "do" the moment -- to be present to Jesus and to herself. And so, it is she who is truly the gracious hostess.

I want to suggest that one of the reasons we struggle to be in the present, especially to be present to ourselves, is our inability to accept ourselves; to love ourselves; to have a gentle understanding of where we've been, who we are and what we hope to become. And that inability to love ourselves is tied to our ability to accept and experience the love of God.

Evangelist and lecturer Graham Cook says we will never be able to fall into the fullness of God's love for us until we are able to love ourselves. The two work hand in hand in a most mysterious way. In a video by Cook called The Inheritance that has been circulating on youtube for some time, Cook tells his audience, "God loves you because he loves you because he loves you because he loves you because he loves you because he loves you," going on to explain that it is the very essence, the very character of God. As we throw down the walls of resistance inside of ourselves and embrace this truth, we grow in our love for ourselves, which gives deeper meaning to God's love for us, which helps us to love ourself some more, and so on.

Hmmm ... how to tie up all these loose ends? Perhaps it is best to state at this point that being in the present is the key to being in the Presence. Yet it is not something to grasp at, but to desire. Not to achieve, but to accept. Not to conquer, but to surrender to. As we learn to be present to the moment, to ourselves and to others, we learn to be present to God and his work of inspiriting flesh.

God is God

2010-06-06T18:21:00.004-05:00

“I am the vine, you are the branches” – that’s what the man said, as recorded in the gospel of John. Jesus is the vine – the source of life, nourishment, growth – not me. I’m a branch. He's the savior of the world, not me. I am a channel, a conduit, a servant. That means I expect the vine to provide me with what I need to be a branch. And what is a branch supposed to do? Grow and produce fruit. And can I do that if I am disconnected from the vine? No.

That line of thinking should be enough to make me behave and stop trying to be the savior of the world. But I confess that at times, in the name of my so-called passion, I do too much; worry too much; work too much; and carry too much. The result? Gut-wrenching fatigue.

My husband and I have been reading a great book by Richard Swenson, M.D. called Margin. (There is also a daily devotional version available for the marginless called Minute of Margin.) The book is about maintaining emotional, physical, financial and time margin in your life; ensuring enough “reserves” in these areas so that when life throws those extra challenges your way, as it inevitably does, you will have the “reserves” built up in these four areas to handle the problem.

The book was published about 10 years ago and I confess I have had it in my possession for at least six years. Why have I never read it? Not enough margin…

Anyway, it is helping me to remember that I am not omnipresent, omnipotent or omniscient. I am a branch. I need some time "resting" in the dirt, main lining from the vine.

A marginless life can be a life sadly lacking joy. Let's face it, being chronically overwhelmed is not a pleasant experience. When life throws challenges our way and we are already overwhelmed in the first place, we can convince ourselves that joy is impossible. Now the scriptures clearly teach that we can have joy in spite of our circumstances. That's what those verses about Jesus coming that we might have life and have it more abundantly are all about, not prosperity theology (oops, that's a whole other post!). Realize, though, that you can sabotage your joy just by the lifestyle and pace of life you choose to lead.

Likewise, don't begin to think that you can produce joy on your own. "Oh, I have so little joy in my life; I better turn on the spigot and get me some more." Sorry, it just doesn't work this way and I fear that many of the people who feel as if they are living a joyless existence are frustrated that their attempts at producing joy have failed. Author, Franciscan priest and lecturer Richard Rohr writes in his daily e-devotional, "You do not manufacture joy, you collapse into it when you give up trying to make it happen."

"But if I don't do it ... who will?" Um ... another branch? I have seen very few grape vines with just one branch. (OK, I confess I have never seen a grape vine, but you get what I'm saying...) Let's use a tree metaphor to make the same point. Can you imagine the branch of an apple tree saying, "If I don't produce an endless supply of fruit, there will be no apples this year!" Have you ever seen any kind of flowering bush/tree/plant or fruit-bearing bush/tree/plant that only produces in one spot? Of course not. God is not asking you to do everything; he is just asking you to do something.

"But I'm not doing enough ... I have to earn all that love and grace." The only time in the gospels that I see someone being "chastised" for the amount of their "production" is the servant who buries his money in the dirt for fear of angering the master should he invest it and lose it. Trust God to produce the fruit. You just do what you can. And the grace and love will keep coming in ample supply regardless of your "performance" when you simply trust in God. The life of faith is not that kind of endurance test.

"Ugh ... I'm just so tired all the time..." Bingo. You have no margin. And lack of margin in one area of your life contributes to lack of margin in others. For example, when you have no time to "rest" and refresh your soul, you feel emotionally and physically drained. Resting is so important ... a surrendered rest, that is, as Swenson describes in Reflection 138 of Minute of Margin. Working from the scripture in Matthew's gospel that if we come to Jesus when we are weary, we will find rest for our weary souls, Swenson writes, "When we come to Him and surrender, accepting His yoke, we accept full vulnerability to the onslaught of the world. Yet at the same time we are assured that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ. This rest is a self-weakening unto God-strength. It is a self-emptying unto God-fullness. It is the rest of full surrender" (bold facing added by me).

Steven Curtis Chapman captures the idea perfectly: "God is God and I am not. I can only see a part of the picture he's painting. God is God and I am man. And I'll never understand it all, 'cause only God is God."

What God wants...

2010-05-30T15:21:00.005-05:00

"We'll do what God wants us to do..." That was what Jim said to me today and I confess, there are times I really hate that line!

I want to talk about not believing that every good and noble act is God's will. To do that, first I have to tell you about Jim and Donna.

Jim has a heart of gold; so does his wife, Donna. He has a strong faith. He will look you square in the eye and say, "God will take care of it" and really, really believe it (not to mention usually be right). No, his life has not been easy. He has just as much baggage as the rest of us. But there is within him a gentle, loving, accepting spirit that blows me away at times.

I share my perceptions of Jim as a framework for the "conversation" I am about to venture into. Jim is in charge of our church's van ministry. He lines up the drivers who transport people to church on Sundays and to NA meetings on Tuesdays. I was one of those drivers today and I think we easily brought 55 people to church. On Tuesdays, I am told we are transporting 25+ to the NA meeting.

Less than a year ago, Jim's wife got involved in the ministry. She helps to facilitate a 12-step Sunday school class for one of the client groups at the rehab facility we work with. I am laughing as I write this, remembering Donna's desire and reluctance to get involved in what we then jokingly referred to as "the smoke can class," because our original idea was to conduct the class around the smoke cans in the parking lot, where the women gathered first-thing as they arrived. Donna was looking for a solution to one of the problems she had with the class: she couldn't stand cigarette smoke. She didn't mind teaching the class, she said, but she couldn't abide the smoke around the smoke cans. We ultimately decided to hold the class indoors and it was Donna who began buying cigarettes for the women so that she could "facilitate" the process of them getting in their smoke before going to Sunday school.

The women who Donna is working with ultimately discharge from the facility, many moving to transitional living. There is a transitional living facility near downtown called Paschall that many of the women go to. Understandably, they want to continue attending our church; likewise, they want us to help make that happen.

And now, finally, we get to the issue.

Last week, Donna asked, why couldn't we take one of the church vehicles to the bus terminal about 2 miles away and meet the women at the bus station each Sunday? That way they could continue to worship with us after they transition to the new facility. Whether they mean to or not, the women are pulling on Donna's heartstrings.

Pick the women up at the bus terminal every Sunday. Yeah. That sounds really easy on paper, but I see how things really work, how volunteers forget it's their week to drive, how women with the best intentions don't show up and don't' tell you they're not going to show up, and so on and so forth. I've seen the "van minister scramble," when you try to make it happen with the warm bodies present. It's maddening at best; sometimes impossible.

I talked to Jim about the issue first this morning, after he said to me, "I hear we're working out a deal to pick some of the women up from the bus terminal..." Huh? Oh no, we're not; not yet. I next took the matter up with Donna as she was passing out cigarettes to the rehab ladies in her Sunday school class. She seemed a bit more receptive to the "idea" that it really was not our job to church everyone in Houston.

I told them both, I believe it's our mission to be a transitional church for those who are in our church community for a short period of time (i.e., the ladies in rehab down the street), but not for everyone else in the city (i.e., the ladies 9.2 miles away at Paschall).

In my conversation with Jim, I reminded him that we were limited and finite, that there was a new facility moving to the neighborhood in the next six months that I really wanted to focus on, and that we had to make tough choices about how to best use the resources available to us. That's when Jim played the "faith" card. That's when he said, "We'll do what God wants us to do."

So I suppose I will explore that idea some more; pray about it; and try to be discerning without automatically assuming that the "noblest" plan of action is what God has in mind.

Just For Today #2

2010-05-23T16:00:00.004-05:00

Just for today I will have a quiet half hour all by myself and relax. During this half hour, sometime, I will try to get a better perspective of my life.

This one makes me laugh right out loud. I decided to post this today because it's Sunday ... you know, remember the Sabath and keep it holy? Well ... I went to church today, but I have been "catching up" on paperwork and etc. So ... those 30 minutes have not happened yet.

I will say that about four days out of seven, I actually have 30 minutes or more of "quiet time." I have a couple devotional books I read, I sing a hymn, I read a psalm, I read a particular passage of scripture (I'm in Romans right now) I pray, I meditate, etc.. It's is relaxing ... but I'm not sure if it really qualifies as what the "just for today" describes above. You see, I'm really bad at being totally still. I know that this takes time. I have been reading some devotionals by Richard Rohr that lately have been speaking to "awareness" and it has delved into the idea of emptying your mind and thinking about absolutely nothing.

We can assume that Jesus practiced this kind of awareness. There are plenty of references in the Gospels about him sneaking off to have some solitude. I'm going to trust he was not napping because he didn't have to sneak off for that. If Jesus wanted a nap, he'd just catch a snooze in the back of a boat or something.

Last week, in the spirituality class that I teach, the lesson was on remembering the sabath. I was talking about rest. After the first class, my pastor pulled me aside and gently suggested I delve into categories of time. It seems you can segment time as work time, play time, biological time (taking care of the physical) and rest. Now rest is not sitting in front of the TV and vegging. And it's not propping your feet up and reading a book. It has more to do with turning off your brain and feeding your soul.

Before class each week, I ask God to refill each of us on the ministry team as we empty ourselves in service to him. Well, I ask that we will trust him to do that and I confess, sometimes I just go 90 to nothing after the class, forgetting to pause, take a deep breath and intentionally seek that refilling.

The second part of the "just for today" above is the idea of gaining a better perspective of my life. Introspection. It's not really confession I don't think. And it's not beating myself up. It's not staring into the mirror and declaring, "I'm smart, I'm pretty, and darn it, people like me!" I think it is more closely related to humility.

In a recent chat, I suggested that humility could be defined as a gentle understanding of ourselves. I have to admit I'm pretty pleased with that definition and try to keep it in the forefront of my mind. I think it's where "I love myself" meets "reality check."

I want to suggest that practicing a gentle understanding of yourself on a regular basis is what gaining a better perspective of your life is about. Perhaps a few questions are in order, such as:
*Is there anything I am thinking or doing or saying that is keeping me from taking care of myself?
* Am I laughing? Sleeping? Exercising? Smiling? Crying? Hugging? Praying?
*Am I sharing myself with others in a healthy way or do I either shut people off or act possessive?
*Am I nurturing relationships with family and friends, extending to them the same kind of gentle understanding I need to have of myself?
*How would I describe my status with God? Whether I "feel" connected to him 24/7 or not, am I assured that he is with me and that he loves me?
*Am I trying to be the best possible Tammy I know how to be today, using love as the foundation of my actions, and reminding myself that God knows I am limited and finite?
* What was my life like six months ago? Am I making progress?
* What do I want my life to be like six months from now? Will I trust God and others to help me get there?

I think inherent to this "just for today" is the idea that after my 30 minutes of solitude and reflection, if I come away from it feeling as if I haven't gained any more answers about mylife than what I had when I started, I will simply say to myself, "Oh well."

You see, tomorrow is another "just for today" ...

Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace.

Where there is hatred let me sow love,

Where there is injury let me sow pardon,

Where there is doubt let me sow faith,

Where there is despair let me give hope,

Where there is darkness let me give light,

Where there is sadness let me give joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not try to be comforted but to comfort,

Not try to be understood but to understand,

Not try to be loved but to love.

Because it is in giving that we receive,

It is in forgiving that we are forgiven,

And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

-- St. Francis of Assisi

Just for today #1

2010-05-20T10:24:00.003-05:00

I have a bookmark in my Bible entitled "Just for Today." It has nine different "challenges" concerning how one should live "just for today." It ends with a beautiful prayer attributed to St. Francis. I am going to post on each of these "Just for Todays," one day at a time, which only seems fitting, ending with the St. Francis prayer.

Just for today I will try to live through this day only, and not tackle all my problems at once. I can do something for 12 hours that would appall me if I felt that I had to keep it up for a lifetime.

Let's face it -- there's a great deal of wisdom in living in today; focusing on what is in my power to do today. Surely, Jesus agreed with this, telling his followers in the Sermon on the Mount not to worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow has enough troubles of its own.

Why do you worry about what you shall eat or what you shall drink or what you shall wear? That's the question he asks them. Admittedly, it's hard to embrace this question in modern times, since I give little thought as to whether I will have enough to eat and drink today and something to wear. So I have to find a way to "update" this admonition from Jesus.

I think that is what the first "just for today" is getting at. "How will I ever get XYZ done" is as big an anxiety for me today as "what will I eat?" was for the people of Jesus' time. If I were to "embrace" all of my challenges at once, I might torture myself with thoughts such as:

* What is going to happen to my Dad as his disease continues to progress? What will be required of me? What am I going to have to witness and feel before it is all said and done? Will we have enough resources to take care of him?

* What will become of our church if our finances don't improve? Should I shut down my ministry budget? Maybe I need to stop buying those Bibles? Maybe we should stop doing those mailers to the community? I offered to provide lunch for 55 people in June. Where's that money going to come from? How will we keep filling up the gas tanks in the vans? Will our members begin "abandoning" a sinking ship if things don't improve? What if others get so discouraged, they do not want to be a part of this ministry anymore?

* When is my older daughter going to find a job? Will she be OK when she drives herself to freshman orientation in July? Will my son be OK on his own this summer? What if he is careless and doesn't save the money he needs to save? What if he gets mugged? What if he gets distracted, gets bad grades and loses his scholarship?

* How will I be able to get my other two children to all the places they need to be come next Fall with my last teen driver off to college? How will my daughter adjust to high school? Will it be a culture shock? Will she be overwhelmed by the size of it? Will my younger son stop day dreaming so much and get serious about his "challenging" classes? Do they watch too much TV? Do they play too many video games? Do they spend too much time on facebook? Am I engaging them in a meaningful way? Am I emotionally present for them? Am I being the best mom I know how to be?

* How is my husband's health? How is mine? Are we getting enough exercise? Are we getting enough recreation? Are we getting enough rest? When will this rib thing stop bothering me? Do we spend enough meaningful time together? Are we growing together or apart? How is his practice? What is his stress level like? Does he feel appreciated? Respected? Do I?

Oh, that's just a sampling. And as the "just for today" says, if I view these and other life challenges as something that must be faced completely and resolved today, I will likely have one of two reactions: I will "escape" and not face anything; or I will snap.

What is in my power to do today? If my expectations for myself or others are unreasonable, maybe I should lower them. How do I interpret and apply the "simple" task of being the best Tammy I know how to be today, with love at the center of my thoughts and actions?

Just for today ... I'm going to try to be more gentle with people. I've already blown that this morning, so I'll have to try again, won't I?

Just for today ... I will do a day's worth of work; both in my job and with the other organizations I have committed my energies to. And whatever a day's worth of work turns out to be, I will be satisfied with myself.

Just for today ... I will cut myself some slack if I can't stay perfectly focused. I will try to redirect myself and just do my best, realizing that my "best" is up for redefinition every day.

Maybe I WILL have to keep up a lot of challenges for a life time. But just for today ... I'll only focus on what needs doing today, knowing that God is right here with me; and he's probably smiling, too. Knowing that smiles are contagious, I think I'll smile as well ... just for today.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon:
where there is doubt, faith ;
where there is despair, hope
where there is darkness, light
where there is sadness, joy

O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

Rescue, not judgment

2010-05-15T11:26:00.006-05:00

My Sunday school class is studying the book, Great Prayers of the Old Testamant. It's my turn to teach this week. The prayer under the microscope is that of Jonah, delivered from the belly of the great fish. The book's author, Walter Brueggman, says that Jonah's response to the "great storm" (which presumably is caused by Yahweh because Jonah has acted in disobedience in jumping on a ship that will take him in the opposite direction of where Yahweh intended for him to go) "...affirms the tight calculus of Israel's faith that disobedience evokes divine punishment."

He doesn't say this is the way God operates; he says this is the way the nation of Israel and specifically Jonah think he does. The turn of events from Jonah's point of view goes something like this:

1) God tells Jonah to go to Ninevah and warn them of God's impending judgment if they do not change their ways
2) Jonah books passage on a ship to Joppa instead, avoiding God's directive to "minister" to the enemies of Israel
3) God responds by causing a great storm to rise up out of the sea, leaving Jonah and the sailors to conclude that someone on board must have done something wrong.
4) Jonah takes the blame, in essence saying, "I'm being punished for being disobedient," and insists the sailors toss him overboard.

It made me think of the rehab ladies, who have a tendency to attribute the natural consequences of their actions as God's punishment.

I think the same guilty conscience that acts on the minds of my ladies was acting on Jonah. Jonah knew he was not supposed to be going to Joppa. He knew he was supposed to go to Ninevah. He knew he was being disobedient. So when a storm arose, his guilt manifested itself as God's wrath.

How convenient.

Now if it is God's wrath, it is justified. But what if it's not? What if there just happened to be a storm on the sea that day?

In the New Testament, we hear that the disciples are rowing across the sea of Galilee when a big storm comes up out of nowhere. None of them say, "Uh-oh, God must have read my thoughts about how sick I am of running around with these rag-tag idiots, always hungry, always wet, always tired, always dodging stonings and arrest. He is punishing me for my thoughts by sending this storm to kill us all!"

No, they don't say that. They just say, "Jesus, wake up! Don't you care that we're about to perish?"

I say all of this merely to point out that God exercises love and mercy before wrath and judgment, every time. Instead of focusing on whether consequences are the wrath of God, it seems more fruitful to recognize that in the midst of the "consequences" or "punishment," we can look to God for rescue (not from the consequences per se, but from the "number" those consequences are doing on us).

Consider the teachings of Jesus:

* The parable of the prodigal son (younger son is embraced by the Father, forgiven on the spot);

* The parable of the workers in the vineyard (everyone gets the same wage, regardless of how much they worked; all our benefactor's of the owner's generosity);

* The parable of the woman who demands justice from the judge (her persistence brings justice, not a backhand reply of, "Leave me alone already you old nag!");

* The woman caught in adultery (Where are your accusers? Does no one condemn you? ... neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more); the restoration of Peter (Peter, do you love (agape) me?...).

And tomorrow I will make the point that regardless of what "agent" resulted in Jonah being thrown into the sea, the central theme remains that of unmerited rescue, not judgment; undeserved forgiveness, not condemnation.

I think the Christian faith labels that as Grace.

Alexander

2010-05-09T20:45:00.003-05:00

I can't remember how many weeks ago I first met Alexander, but let me say it's been interesting. She is a client at one of the rehab facilities where I teach spirituality classes.

To say she is a little manic is a gross understatement. She's nearly a caricature, so animated and aggressive in her efforts to cast the spotlight on herself. Her words and actions say, "look at me, listen to me, praise me, love me, validate me, need me, take care of me..."

She's exhausting!

I confess by my second encounter with Alexander, I had already lost my patience. "What do you weigh? How many times a week do you work out? You are so perfect! I wish I looked like you! Did I say the wrong thing? Did I put my foot in my mouth again? You wouldn't believe what I have to put up with here! I thought this place was for alcoholics like me, not a bunch of drug addicts! You wouldn't believe how mean everyone is to me! I try to be so nice and say nice things to people!"

My favorite line from her, though, went something like this: "There's a girl here who didn't believe in Jesus so me and Teel double teamed her and told her all about Jesus and now she believes in him and wants to be baptized. Isn't that good? Isn't that what I'm supposed to be doing?" Yes, Alexander, but be careful about coming off too strong with your faith. You might turn people away from God... "Say, do you think that's why I'm here? Do you think that's why I'm in rehab ... to tell people about Jesus?" Um, no, you're in rehab because you're an addict. But maybe God is making use of it as well...

The other day I realized, I needed a major attitude adjustment where Alexander is concerned. I found myself thinking thoughts like, "run away, run away," when she approached me. I reminded myself, she is one of God's children. She deserves better from me.

So today, when I saw her at church, and the first words out of her mouth were, "Does my make-up look OK?" I assured her that yes, she looked very pretty. I addressed her with terms of endearment like "sweety" and "honey." I smiled at her. I laughed. I told her, you crack me up!

And you know what? Just that little bit of effort on my part changed my attitude toward her; it changed my heart. Go figure.

There are many, many Alexanders in the world. If God chooses to put a few in my path, I need to extend to them all that "love and acceptance" I'm always talking about...

Sanctuary

2010-05-08T19:01:00.002-05:00

“We can no longer be satisfied by simply being the Church for the poor from our position of establishment. We must realize that sometimes that very generosity, that very attempt to be good to other people, has kept us in a position of power and superiority. Somehow we must be of and with the poor, and then be ready for some mistrust and even criticism.” – Richard Rohr

The true definition of compassion is the ability to enter into the pain or suffering of another; not to fix it, but to experience it with them, to ease their sense of isolation and abandonment. That being said, Richard Rohr’s comment above seems to suggest that our tendency is to look at those in need and say to them, “Bless your heart” or “Poor dear!” Perhaps a better response, a more Christ-like response, is to embrace and express, “You and I are the same.” That's sanctuary -- unconditional love and acceptance.

We work to bind up the brokenness of others with an attitude of humility because this is the appropriate response from a community of faith.

At my church, we say that our mission is to Transform Lives through Connections. What we have discovered is that the lives being transformed are often our own. Not everyone "gets" it. Not everyone agrees. Some even think we are harming the church by paying so much attention to "those people," but that's OK. It's all part of the process ... it's all good.

Two Wolves

2010-05-02T19:46:00.004-05:00

While I was reading a few more chapters of How God Changes Your Brain today, I came across a story I have heard before ... a parable attributed to Native Americans. It seems a Grandfather tells his Grandson of two wolves that live inside of him. One wolf is kind and generous. The other is angry and hateful. The Grandfather tells the young boy these two wolves fight all the time for control. The boy asks, which one wins? The old man wisely replies, the one that I feed.

Using this parable as a launching point, authors Andrew Newberg and Mark Waldman devote a fascinating chapter to explaining how the different parts of our brain operate and effect us in turn.

For the sake of simplicity, we can term one part of the brain the "emotional" brain. This is the limbic brain, which has "existed" for 150 million years. It tends to be the source of selfish, angry, fearful and suspicious thoughts.

The other part of the brain, we can call the "smart" brain. This is the prefrontal lobe and anterior cingulate, which has evolved more recently; the source of logic, higher thinking, compassion and understanding.

When we are presented with new ideas, the "emotional" brain reacts suspiciously and tries to reject them. These new ideas threaten us. We like things just the way they are. In contrast, the "smart" brain tries to understand these ideas and "cooperate" with them, if you will.

Likewise, the more we "feed" the emotional brain, the more our thinking and actions and behaviors tend to reside there; the same is true for the smart brain.

And there you have it ... the two wolves.

Here's the interesting part. The prefrontal lobe is more akin to a playful wolf pup, but the limbic brain is quicker to respond. That's why you have to be intentional about exercising compassion and acceptance toward the "others" of your life -- people, ideas or circumstances -- before the limbic brain can take its usual pot shots and lash out in anger.

Anger does all kinds of crazy things to our brains. It blinds you to the fact that you are angry (how convenient), encourages you to defend your beliefs (regardless of how illogical they are), and causes you to perceive anger in others that isn't even there.

Our minds are always biased toward seeing evidence that supports our point of view. Newberg and Waldman say that if you want to decrease your natural tendency toward prejudice and out-group mentality ("us" vs. "them"), then you have to stop doing one thing -- categorizing yourself.

If you put labels on yourself like conservative, liberal, fundamental, evangelical, Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, etc., etc., your brain automatically reacts in a "negative" manner toward people or situations or ideas that are outside of these labels.

This idea makes a great deal of sense to me and really jives with Jesus' admonition to love your brother as yourself. Stop defining yourself and you'll stop defining (judging) your brother.

Likewise, teachings that you should love those who persecute you and bless those who curse you fall in line with the idea that by responding to the anger and hate of others with compassion and love, you not only keep yourself from falling prey to hate and the control of the limbic brain, but you also "reflect" a character trait that your enemies and persecutors will mimic back (usually without even realizing it). Perhaps that's what Jesus means when he says acting these ways is like heaping burning coals on the heads of our enemies; not to harm them, but to get their attention; to help them snap out of it; to bring about change.

One final thought from the book. When things don't go our way, we tend to respond by blaming either the world, God or ourselves. Surprisingly, it is much better to blame God or the world than ourselves. The authors don't mean to imply that we should not be accountable for our actions. It seems that when we throw too much blame on ourselves, our guilt shuts down our prefrontal lobe, which leads to negative beliefs about ourselves, which fosters depression. (Perhaps that is why so many of the women I have contact with in my ministry just cannot seem to get out of the funk of guilt and shame!)

A few thoughts to process ... as you contemplate this amazing organ created by God.

God and Science

2010-04-30T17:05:00.005-05:00

My husband and I attended a lecture at the Houston Museum of Natural Science the other night sponsored by the University of St. Thomas. It was entitled, God and Science. Here are some "highlights" of the discussion:

* It is futile to ask whether it is possible to "believe" in God and science. You don't believe in science, you understand it. You believe in God.

* Science that pretends to deny or prove God, belittles God.

* Science as science, tells us about the universe, not about God.

* IF I believe in God, then the universe as the way science sees it also tells me about God.

* God is not an engineer who designed the universe; God, as the universe reveals, is a loving parent.

* To better conceptualize the 13.7 billion years of earth's history, think of it as one calendar year. That means the Big Bang happened in January. On Dec. 25, dinosaurs came into existence, but then they became extinct on Dec. 30. On Dec. 31, hominids came into existence around 7 p.m. and humans at 9 p.m. At 11:58 p.m., Jesus Christ was born. At 11:59 p.m., Galileo. And at Midnight, it's today. I don't know what that means, but it helped me "grasp" it better.

* People ask, is God omniscient? Well ... can God know what can't be known? Same thing for being omnipresent ... can God be somewhere that doesn't exist?

* Scientists love to talk about how other planets show "evidence" of conditions favorable for life to exist. The problem is, we don't know how we got from "favorable conditions" to "life." (Reminds me of a joke ... God and a scientist go toe to toe to prove who is more powerful. Each is to create their own human being out of dirt. Scientist says, "On your mark, get set..." God interrupts, "Wait just a minute ... get your own dirt!")

* Faith has to do more with the evolution of our brains, but religion is more about culture.

I was sharing these ideas with a friend and she added, "People get so worked up about body vs. soul. Well, we don't' 'have' a soul. We are a soul. We have a body."

That's all I can remember ... I've slept two nights since the lecture.

Meditate on this...

2010-04-21T20:31:00.004-05:00

OK, I admit it ... previously I have put little stock in the spiritual discipline of meditation. Why? I don't know. Maybe I just didn't understand what it was about. Maybe I thought there wasn't any great distinction between meditation and prayer. Maybe I just focused on prayer because then I could do all the talking. (It is most likely the latter, ha ha).

In the last year or so, I have haphazardly practiced meditation. I hope to make amends for my careless approach in the past and become more disciplined and intentional about it. This is due in no small part to the fascinating book I have referenced here previously, How God Changes Your Brain. What is particularly noteworthy to me about this book is although neither of the co-authors describe themselves as religious, and certainly not Christian, the findings and ideas they present are really feeding my spirituality; my thinking about God.

(It should be noted that the ideas expressed here come almost exclusively from Andrew Newberg, M.D., and Mark Robert Waldman, authors of How God Changes Your Brain. I can take little or no credit for any original thought!)

If you have ever experienced doubts about the existence of God, welcome to humanity. (And if you have not, you are a liar.) Regardless, there's something about thinking about God (especially in a meditative context) that changes your brain. For example, the majority of spiritual practices suppress the brain's ability to react with anger or fear. Likewise, spiritual contemplation changes your brain because it strengthens a unique neural circuit that specifically enhances social awareness and empathy while subduing destructive feelings and emotions. w

Faith is the force behind our will to survive. Perhaps that is why faith is such an integral part of human experience. We are hard wired to believe in something; we are hard wired to worship something. Perhaps that is another reason thinking about God changes our brains.

Here's something that won't shock you: stress is the #1 killer in America because it damages nearly every organ in the body -- especially the brain. Focusing on a negative interpretation of life can generate waves of fear, which releases a torrent of destructive neurochemicals. Thus, there is an emotional, spiritual and physical value to meditation because it teaches the brain how to exercise "selective attention" -- the ability to voluntarily choose from millions of pieces of data and focus on that which is most relevant for your life. In other words, meditation teaches us how to discard irrelevant and distracting information, allowing us to focus that which can be beneficial and nurturing to our health.

Research presented in this book indicates that meditating for as little as 12 minutes a day will bring about changes in your brain that affect your perspective. Slow, deep breathing is integral to meditation in terms of delivering the mind into a relaxed state while also replenishing neural energy that is used in thinking. Repeating out loud (yes, out loud) a phrase or word while you breath deeply brings about the "relaxed yet focused" state that affects every area of your brain. Add a tactile experience (what you may have heard called a "mudra" -- touching the thumb on each hand to a different finger as you say a word) and you multiply the affect. Interestingly, you don't have to say real words but can simply adopt a mantra of consonants: "su, ta, na, ma." (but I say real words that have a spiritual significance to me.) Sing your mantra, whether consonants or words, and you multiply the affect yet again.

A few years ago, I would have laughed out loud at such a practice. Ah yes, ignorance is bliss! But here is the fascinating thing. It seems that when you meditate on a specific goal over time, your brain begins to relate to that goal as if it were a real object in the world. When that happens, it is much easier to "attain" the goal.

Specifically, here is what meditation does for different parts of the brain (this is not an exhaustive list):

* Meditation strengthens one's sense of self in relation to the world (parietal activity). This same area of the brain is associated with increased consciousness, alertness and the ability to resonate to other people's feelings and thoughts.

* The anterior cingulate is the "bridge" between the frontal lobe and the limbic (emotional) system. Meditation on God's love, for example, increases the functioning of the anterior cingulate -- the ability for the "intelligent" and "emotional" brain to talk to one another. (Notably, fear-based religion may damage the anterior cingulate, causing you to feel less concern for others or even acting aggressively toward them.)

* The thalamus helps you perceive reality. Thus by focusing on a specific goal during meditation, this part of the brain begins to see it as real; your belief becomes neurologically real.

I'll end with this interesting fact concerning our biology. Only human beings can think themselves into happiness or despair; thus the more we engage in spiritual practices, the more we can positively influence our body, mind and spirit. (And meditation is a big key to all of that...)

Getting over ourselves

2010-04-18T13:33:00.003-05:00

Jesus tells his followers, "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart -- I have overcome the world." -- John 16:33

I have spoken to plenty of people who honestly believe that the difficulties they are experiencing are unique to them, as if no one else in the universe has ever gone through a situation like theirs. (Some of them live in my house -- like my teenager who claims she can't get a job because she has big exams coming up and school gets first priority. I snorted, "Right, because no one else in the world has ever come home from work and then stayed up until 2 a.m. or 3 a.m. studying for a test.") Of course, none of us wants to believe that our troubles are ordinary, but the fact remains ... maybe we just need to get over ourselves.

In the passage above from John's Gospel, Jesus is trying to encourage his followers regarding any present circumstances they may find themselves in. He is acknowledging a simple fact: life can be tough. Furthermore, in announcing his triumph over the world, the implication seems to be, "If I did it, you can too."

I think it's interesting that Jesus speaks of his overcoming the world as a done deal; mission accomplished. He had not suffered and died at this point, yet he is so focused on his purpose and mission, so confident in his faith in God, that he easily proclaims, "I have overcome the world."

I heard a message similar to this in church this morning. (In fact, I heard it twice, as I needed to attend both services today.) The Pastor was speaking about being a "mathetes" -- which Biblical scholars have translated to mean disciple, but which he suggested is more closely translated "learner." He suggested that we are put on this earth to learn specific lessons and grow in specific areas. I think I understood him to imply that God lines up all of these "lessons" for us and matches us to the family where we have the greatest potential for growth, but I confess I have trouble embracing that. I think God is terribly clever and he does not have to "give" someone cancer or "place" them in an abusive home situation to ensure that they learn what they need to learn in this life.

My "version" of his message today might sound something like this -- as those around us exercise free will, and as we exercise our own free will, and as life "happens," there are hundreds upon thousands of blessing, curses, difficulties, tragedies and joyful moments that we walk through. Although I do believe that we are meant to learn something from life, that the potential is there for growth in every life experience, I see that reality more as an expression of the redemptive quality of God's character. In other words, God offers meaning and value to the tragedy and difficulty that life sometimes delivers. He redeems a terrible experience by bringing forth something good from it, especially if we allow him to, which is why I believe we are perfectly justified in saying to God, "Oh please, if I have to go through this, don't let it go to waste. Please use it ... for your purposes."

And what are God's purposes? This part of the Pastor's message I could embrace. God's purpose for me is to experience as much growth and understanding as possible in the way I relate to God, to others and to myself, with love as the guiding force.

Now when I say God redeems a terrible experience by bringing forth something good from it, I don't necessarily mean magical solutions like, "If I hadn't gotten into that car wreck and spent six weeks in the hospital, I never would have had the time to discover the cure for cancer!" No, I mean God is able to use every situation to propel us forward in our quest to learn how to relate to God, to others and to ourselves.

Sometimes, it's not "living" through the struggles of life that is challenging, but how you live. I often quote Jesus' words that he came that we might have life, and have it in abundance. A book I was reading yesterday defined abundance as "progressively better each time." If abundant living means living that gets progressively better, and knowing what I do about life having passed 47 years upon this planet, I'm led to the conclusion that living abundantly is much more about perspective that circumstance. The Pastor said today that to the best of our ability, we need to welcome what life delivers up, having the faith, I suppose, to believe that God can redeem it for our good and His glory.

"In this world you will have trouble." That is true, but wouldn't it be amazing if each of us had enough faith to answer, "Yes, I know, but if you can do it ... so can I." That's what it takes for us to get over ourselves.

You can't be everything to everyone

2010-04-15T08:19:00.003-05:00

I'm having a week where my emotional chain is being yanked.

As I was typing prayer requests yesterday from the rehab ladies, their woeful pleas to "stay clean and sober" seemed to rake my heart.

And a conversation with a nice young man named Javiar at the homeless shelter was much the same. He was "back" after an extended absence. "Welcome back..." I said, adding, "I guess I mean welcome back ... it is a good thing, right?" He proceeded to tell me that after leaving the facility some months ago, he fell back into his addiction. Then he lived on the streets for four months. Then he found his way back for another round of sobriety and recovery.

An email from a "graduated" rehab lady also pulled on me. She is at a transitional facility now about 15 minutes from the church. There are other of my former "students" there as well. "Please, could someone pick us up for church on Sunday mornings?" I had to tell her no, we couldn't. We are at a crossroads at church right now where the reality of our being limited and finite is smacking us in the face. There aren't enough vehicles or warm bodies. And so, for now, the answer is no, and I don't like that answer.

I did meet three new ladies on Tuesday that are part of a new client group at Bonita House. They are from the prison in Huntsville, participating in a special program that allows them to transfer to Bonita House with their newborns. Previously, women like this would have been separated from their babies indefinitely, possibly losing them forever to CPS or foster care.

There are times when the ability to shut down one's emotions sounds very appealing. And yet I know I do not have that luxury nor do I want to turn my back on what God has placed in front of me. It's really an undeserved privilege.

There are many, many people out there with deep wounds who need healing; they need comfort; a cool cup of water.

Things to Come

2010-04-10T17:45:00.004-05:00

I just started reading a new book called How God Changes Your Brain (by Andrew Newberg, M.D. and Mark Robert Waldman). When I say I just started it, I mean I've only read five or six pages and have already said "hmmmn" outloud and raised my eyebrows about 10 times.

It is absolutely fascinating.

So ... over the next few weeks, I imagine I will be posting a great deal about this book, how thinking about God affects our conscious and sub-conscious mind and the changes that occur in our brain through various spiritual pursuits, experiences, thoughts and exercises.

I know I'm pretty psyched about it ...

Teel

2010-04-09T08:42:00.002-05:00

Some people are so easy with showing affection. It fascinates me. Teel is one of those people.

I met her about a month ago at the rehab. She said, "My name's Teel, like the color..." (although she obviously spells it differently)

Now, every time I see her, whether it's at class or at church, she makes right for me with a big hug. What a gift ... not only to see someone who is like that but to benefit from it as well.

Thank God for the Teels of this world...

It's so easy

2010-04-07T08:08:00.002-05:00

Sometimes it's so easy to make people happy.

Two weeks ago, one of the rehab ladies handed me an index card with a few random lyrics written on it and several guesses on who the artist might be. "I heard this song and it reminded me of my Mom. She died and I didn't get to go to her funeral because of my addiction. Can you find the song for me?"

Can I find the song? Do one-legged ducks swim in circles? I am Super Tammy, of course I can.

After several searches on itunes and google, I came up with a song by Alan Jackson called Sissy's Song. It's about a loved one who has died and gone to heaven and says to those left behind, "Don't worry about me." Yeah, that's definitely it.

Today, when I walked into the room for spirituality, this woman asked me, "Ms Tammy, did you make a new CD for April?"

Yep.

"Does it have that song on it?"

Yep.

"REALLY????"

Of course.

Then I played it for her. She smiled so deeply it warmed up the entire room. As she listened, I got ready to teach the class and wrote things on the board. I told her, it makes me happy to make you happy.

And I meant it.

Two months and then some

2010-04-04T17:24:00.002-05:00

Tracey renewed her baptismal vows today. She and her husband, James, together. They both looked like starry-eyed newlyweds. I was taking their photo before church and I told them, "you two are absolutely adorable."

I met Tracey 2 months and then some ago, around the end of January. She was attending a Saturday retreat my church had organized for the rehab ladies. She was bedraggled, dressed in the scrubs of a "newbie," foggy, desperate, barely holding it together.

That's how the ladies look sometimes when they first arrive. I didn't even know her name then, but that first impression stuck hard with me. Over the next weeks, I watched her come back to life, as if she were being resuscitated before my very eyes. Her husband told me bits of pieces of his story and hers. I put the rest together from the questions she asked in class and the prayer requests she wrote down every week.

Today her long blond hair was brushed to shiny perfection. Her eyes were no longer dull and hopeless but glowing with expression. She was happy; a happy you can't fake; joyful. And her husband, James, who apparently goes by the nickname "Happy," was her equal in mood and manner.

These two have been through a hell of a lot. They are both in recovery, him about 12 months ahead of her, though apparently he never spent time in a lock-down rehab like she has. She has at least two more months to go, but you'd never know it. You'd think she was getting out tomorrow.

Tracey had decided about a month ago that she and James wanted to renew their baptismal vows. And she was very intentional that she wanted it to happen on Easter Sunday. The last few weeks, she kept reminding me of this. Each time I would laugh, assure her I was on it and then watch her smile in anticipation.

Easter celebrates the resurrection of Jesus. Last week in spirituality class, I taught on the resurrection. Initially, I assumed everyone knew what that word meant. But then it occurred to me I might teach an entire class on a concept they didn't even understand from the beginning.

So I asked them ... what does resurrection mean? I got a mixed bag of answers, some which were pretty close to the mark. Then I said point-blank, it means going from being dead to being alive.

When Jesus appears in the Upper Room to his disciples, they are shocked to see him alive, moving, talking, even eating. Thomas is not with them and later announces boldly that unless he can put his fingers in the nail holes of Jesus' hands and place his hand in the spear hole in his side, he will not believe. And so ... Jesus appears to Thomas and invites him to do just that.

Thomas is dumb struck. Without even moving a step closer, he instead declares, "My God and my Lord."

"You believe because you have seen. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe." (paraphrase of John's gospel.)

I used to count myself among the "blessed" who had believed without having seen. But I don't anymore. I've seen too many resurrections myself at this point, women like Tracey who go from death to life before my very eyes. And I try to remind myself each time, what a miracle, what a privilege.

Getting a leg up

2010-04-03T09:23:00.003-05:00

I'm on my second cup of coffee, so my mind is racing. I found a scrap of paper on my desk that had several topic ideas for this blog written on it. Here they are:

Press 1 for "Defects of character vs. manifestation of defects of character"

Press 2 for "Cup of wrath vs. cup of suffering"

Press 3 for "Overcoming suffering vs. hoisted up by it"

Ah, the 3's have it.

Has someone ever been pointed out to you of whom it was told, "You wouldn't believe what she has been through in her life..." or "He's overcome so much!" Yeah, I think we all have. Some of us are even that person!

Here's my question though ... did we overcome our suffering or hardship like some sort of wall on an obstacle course on our way to the top, or did that obstacle somehow give us a leg up?

We don't' have much use for suffering in the West. Maybe that's because our media is so driven by ads and images and stories that glorify being rich, successful, young, beautiful and skinny. These images are presented as the norm; as something all of us should reach for; something highly desirable. So when one of the "accursed" rises through the ranks to fame and fortune, we practically hold a parade in their honor. Confetti flying, we fawn and coo, "I knew he had it in him..." and then punctuate the story with, "you wouldn't believe what he's overcome."

Jesus came into this world with nothing.

He lived with just enough.

He died with nothing.

Perhaps his refusal to grasp for the brass ring is one of the things that so infuriated the crowds. Can't you just hear the whispers when he returned to his hometown of Nazareth halfway through his ministry? "Poor Mary ... Joseph was such a talented carpenter. They had such high hopes for Jesus." "Oh the shame, when I think of all that he overcame, just to throw it away to run with this band of ragamuffins!" "He could have really made something of himself, had a nice family, cared for his dear mother in her old age, but look at him. Tsk, tsk, tsk ... so sad."

Jesus was very clear that the brass ring was not his thing. He point blank told a would-be follower, foxes have holes and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head (paraphrase). Yet his greatness came from the manner in which he lived in the midst of the way that he lived, you know? You get me? He had nothing, but "having" was not what his life was about. I don't mean he was "destined" to live this way. I mean, he chose it. Remember that little conversation with the Devil in the wilderness? "All these kingdoms I will give to you if you will just bow down and worship me." Jesus said, scram! He was clear that his life was about showing people how to love God, love one another and love themselves. Even if it was going to get him killed, he was determined not to sway from this way of life.

I want to suggest that hardship and suffering are stepping stones to greatness; only not necessarily greatness as the world defines it. Suffering is the great equalizer. It strips away ego and pretension and ambition and pride, leaving a core that really best represents the essence of who we are; a pliable lump of clay that God can really work with.

It's not exactly pulling yourself up by your own boot straps. It's more like accepting life on its terms and resolving to live abundantly, love fully, serve humbly.

People who have risen up from the ashes and nurtured a character marked by humility and gratitude exemplify what I'm talking about. We think they are great, amazing, a wonder to behold. They shake their heads and honestly proclaim, "I'm nothing special." There is a quality about them that draws us in like a magnet; a mysterious attraction that may even surprise us. I mean, look at them, they are nothing wonderful on the surface, but just below, down there somewhere, just peaking over the edges of their humanity, is a beautifully-formed soul.

Living life as it comes, thanking God every day, knowing he is the source of all that is good and pure and holy, trusting him to remain at our sides, serving him with every fiber of our being and marveling at the fullness of our hearts -- that's what gives somebody a leg up. And more often than not, it's a quality of character borne of suffering.

No losses

2010-04-02T19:58:00.002-05:00

I recently began subscribing to a daily devotional from the Center for Action and Contemplation that is written by Richard Rohr. I have really been enjoying it. Yesterday's reading focused on Maundy Thursday, which commemorates Jesus sharing the Passover (Last Supper) with his disciples and giving them a new command, that they love one another as he has loved them.

In the reading, Rohr explained that when a family celebrated the Passover, they would get the lamb four days ahead of time; just long enough, Rohr explains, for the children to get really attached to it. Then they would slaughter it. (Yes, that was quite intentional.)

He goes on to say that the work of Jesus on the cross is less about the simple mathematics of "substitute him for me" and more about Jesus standing in solidarity with us, showing us how to die to ourselves and live completely to the teachings of God.

Yes, that's right, it's our precious ego that we must crucify; and I guarantee you we are more attached to it than we ever could be to a darling little Passover lamb who steals our hearts before becoming dinner.

Today is Good Friday. It's the day when we contemplate the death of Jesus. Earlier in the day, my husband and I experienced a stations of the cross at our church that the youth director designed. It's also the day when we try to remember that the disciples and those who loved Jesus best didn't have the information we have.

They thought it was game over.

Tomorrow is even worse; well, from their standpoint I mean. Holy Saturday is the "day after." Yes, the day after the worst possible thing their minds could imagine.

We have all had the day after in our lives. And when we are cast into the depths of despair that only the day after can produce, it's hard to remember that this event, this situation, and the pit of hopelessness that it creates in the very depths of our souls, does not have the last word.

I'll quote a friend of mine, JD, who likes to say, "There are no losses, just lessons; no burdens, just blessings." He maintains a unique, upbeat, faithful perspective regardless of what life delivers up. (And let's face it -- none of us is immune to the devastation that life can hand us.)

That expression was a million miles away from the thoughts of those who loved Jesus best on Good Friday. Perhaps that's what makes Easter all the sweeter -- for them some 2,000 years ago and for us, today.

Hope for thieves everywhere

2010-03-31T20:19:00.004-05:00

About 18 years ago, some thieves broke into our church and stole something -- probably sound equipment or the like. Our Pastor at the time put on the sign in the front yard of the church, "All welcome, except thieves." Then the local TV station did a story on the robbery because we were one among several churches in the area who had been broken into. Suffice to say, that sign did NOT go over well. It was soon changed ... "All welcome, even thieves."

I think that's what Jesus would have wanted.

Let's face it, we are all thieves. We have all stolen something, whether literally (you know, borrowing a pen here, a file folder there from the office) or figuratively (let's say taking credit or attention or praise that rightfully belonged to God). Maybe you've stolen from your kids by denying them the time they need of you. Or stolen from your spouse by not loving and honoring them in good times and in bad. Maybe you've stolen the reputations of those you know by gossiping about them or criticizing them. Or stolen from God by giving him the leftovers, if anything at all, where your prayers, your presence, your gifts and your service are concerned.

Being that it's Holy Week and all, it seems like a good time to think about the fate of thieves. In last week's Bible study (I attend a weekly Bible study at another church), we were looking at the passage from Matthew where the mother of James and John asks Jesus to give her sons special places in his kingdom (placing one on his right, the other on his left). After elaborating on the passage, Dr. Jackson added, "You know who God chose to put in those places, right?" We all blinked and stared for what seemed like a minute or two. Then, trying to suppress a giggle he replied, "two thieves."

Ah ... so he did, so he did; one at his right, the other at his left. One of those thieves, having repented to Jesus for his sins and asking for mercy, was told, "Today, you shall be with me in paradise."

So you see, there is hope for thieves everywhere. And thank goodness my pastor from so many years ago changed that sign from "All welcome, except thieves," to "All welcome, even thieves." Otherwise, a lot of us might not have anywhere to worship on Sunday mornings!

Praying from the heart

2010-03-27T16:32:00.002-05:00

Praying from the heart is different from praying with your mind or thinking about God.

Henri Nouwen in his book The Way of the Heart--the Spirituality of the Desert Fathers and Mothers suggests that praying from the heart means using short, simple prayers; praying without ceasing; and praying in an all-inclusive manner. "To pray is to descend with the mind to the heart and there to stand before the face of the Lord, ever present, all-seeing within you," he writes.

Nouwen describes the heart not as the "emotional" side of our psyche, but the source of all physical, emotional, intellectual, volitional and moral energies; the seat of our will and the center of our person. The prayer of the heart is one that directs itself to God, he says, opening ourselves to the truth of God and the truth about ourselves.

Why prayers with fewer words? Because wordiness in prayer subjects the mind to fantasy and dissipation. This jives with his earlier ideas that silence is not only preferable to words, but a true expression of the language of God.

What exactly is praying without ceasing? Nouwen describes it as a discipline, a rhythm of sorts. He tells several stories to make his point, including that of a man who began the discipline of praying "the Jesus prayer" -- Lord Jesus, have mercy on me. The man prayed this constantly, to the extent possible, unceasingly. Eventually, the man says that his prayer seemed to pray itself, from his heart, without him being as aware or intentional about it.

What exactly is all-inclusive prayer? It's the idea of carrying the pain, sorrows and burdens of your own and others into your heart. (Remember, in prayer you are descending with your mind into the heart, presumably to where God is.) When you carry all these burdens inclusively to your heart, which over time is transformed to God's heart, God can take it from there and bring the rest (not freedome from pain, but rest in God amidst a very intense daily struggle) we all desire.

I've been trying to practice some of the suggestions regarding solitude and silence and prayer that Nouwen teaches in this book. I have discovered that it is very, very difficult to be completely silent. Even if i say to myself, don't think about anything, I find myself thinking about not thinking about anything.

My exercise of silence has progressed into a visual that sort of appeared in my head, not one that I meant to suggest. When I am succeeding in true silence, there is a "hum" going on in my mind, a wordless nothingness, and I can "see" myself moving through a dark well or perhaps even a mine shaft. Yet I have not completely succeeded in this exercise because I still have a sense of light "behind" me. I find that my mind will not give way totally to silence and darkness and non-stimulation. (In fact, it actually feels frightening to give way completely in this manner, which is probably why I haven't been able to do it ... yet.)

We think that when we sleep at night, finally our mind gets a break. How hilarious! Those who remember their dreams know this is a falsehood. I don't always remember them, but last night, I dreamt I was being chased by a large rat in the backyard. I ran across the yard and scurried up a ladder. The rat leaped into the air and grabbed my sleeve. I swatted it away and it did it again. Suffice to say, I did not wake up feeling terribly rested this morning!

I don't know what meaning to assign to that dream. I tell it simply to illustrate that even when we are "relaxed" physically, our minds are going 90 to nothing.

Although I have failed to achieve "total silence" in my prayer/meditation experiment, I have noticed that the "words" and "thoughts" and "prayers" that come forth after doing this exercise, which may last anywhere from 2 minutes to 15 minutes, are very centered. The peace I feel is also very, very different from other experiences of prayer.

Of course, I felt a little twinge today when I read Nouwen's words that approaching God from an intellectual point of view is not terribly beneficial to one's spiritual growth (he may have even called it heresy). Nouwen warns we should be careful of making God into a subject that can be analyzed or scrutinized, fooling ourselves into believing that we can understand God. "The dominating idea has been that everything can be understood and that what can be understood can be controlled. God, too, is a problem that has a solution, and by strenuous efforts of the mind we will find it..."

Reading that made me want to put down the book, ha ha, since reading any more might contribute to my "fantasy" that I can understand God. Truth be told, I neither want nor mean to be obsessive about my "quest for understanding" where God is concerned. I really am trying to understand more about what the character of God is like because it helps me to understand what matters most; where my energies and efforts should be pointed; what this journey is that I am on.

Well, these are probably too many words. They certainly did not spring forth from silence. But in the name of temperance, I'll shut up already.

Dites Moi

2010-03-22T08:11:00.011-05:00

My husband and I saw South Pacific at the Hobby Center on Saturday. There is a charming little song (well, there are many) called Dites Moi. Here are the lyrics (and I will rough translate it for my non-French speaking friends...)

Dites-moi

Pourquoi

La vie est belle,

Dites-moi

Pourquoi

La vie est gai,

Dites-moi

Pourquoi,

Chere Mad'moiselle,

Est-ce que

Parce que

Vous m'aimez?

Tell me ...

Why life is beautiful?

Tell me ...

Why life is exciting?

Tell me why, my dear ...

Is it because you love me?

What a blessing to be loved by someone else. What a blessing to add to the value and experience of someone else's life. Surely, we were created to be in connection with one another in such a manner, with our God and with our own souls.

There, there dearie

2010-03-21T17:01:00.002-05:00

When our children fall down and skin their knees, we have this tendency to pick them up, dry their tears and say, "Shhhhh, it's OK darling, don't cry ... mommy is here."

We think that assuring them that it's OK is what delivers the comfort, but actually, it's the admonition that we are there with them, in their suffering, that brings healing; that affords true compassion. That's the premise of Henri Nouwen in his book, The Way of the Heart -- the Spirituality of the Desert Fathers and Mothers.

Nouwen defines or describes true compassion as being in solidarity with the pain and suffering of others; going to that place with them where the pain is. This practice is very difficult for most of us, not to mention uncomfortable and foreign. Our knee jerk reaction to the suffering or sadness of others is to issue what I call the "there, there dearie..." words of comfort. We say, look on the bright side. We say, this too shall pass. We say, I'm so sorry for your loss/pain/suffering. But how often do we say, let me climb in there with you in the pain; let me experience what you are experiencing, not so that I can understand it, but so you will not feel quite so alone.

I remember when a really good friend of ours died suddenly about 4 years ago. I believe that has been the most intense experience of grief I have ever had. And I'm convinced that the wife of the friend, who is also a very dear friend of mine, did not want to hear, "There, there dearie..." or "he's in a better place..." or "he was such a great guy..." or "I know how you feel..." No, I'm sure she just wanted to be held and joined in her mournful sobs. (And as I remember this incident, I honestly cannot say whether I joined her in her suffering in this manner or not; probably not.)

I'll say it again. When we are in pain, when we are suffering, when our world is falling out from under us, it is one of the loneliest places to be. We feel isolated. We feel as we are miles and miles and miles from those around us, even those standing right in front of us. And whether we realize it or not, we hunger for solidarity; for someone who will enter into our suffering with us.

Lent is a good time to think about how Jesus entered into our suffering with us. I don't like it when people state the atoning work of Jesus in simplistic little terms: "He died for me" or "He paid my price." (That is just one understanding of atonement, by the way -- the substitutionary theory.) It's just as easy to state by rote, "I am so wretched, and he is so good." (The moral theory of atonement.)

Through his suffering and death, Jesus reveals sacrificial atonement, total self-giving. He models for us the idea of approaching God with an awareness of our brokenness and saying, "I am so very, very sorry ... and all that I have, all that I am, all that you would have of me ... I give to you." It communicates rather loud and clear, I belong to God. (Ideas taken from 24 Hours That Changed the World, by Adam Hamilton.)

I have never read a Gospel account that has Jesus responding to the suffering of another by patting them on the knee and cooing, "There, there dearie." When the world through the lives of humanity cried out to God, "We are so broken, so far from home, so lost ..." he did not call out from heaven, "I know ... I'm so very sorry." No, he came and lived among us. For those who lived with Jesus, who met him, who saw him, heard him and even touched him, their experience of the love and compassion of God must have been profound indeed. The rest of us "watch" from a distance, reading stories in the Gospels and seeking to understand on deeper levels, who is this man, this Jesus, this God in the Flesh? What does he have to say to me today? And how can I respond in an authentic manner?

Perhaps as we become more intentional about entering into the suffering of those around us, we will grow in our understanding of the character of God; and carry His Spirit of healing to the world.

Pathways

2010-03-14T18:04:00.006-05:00

The book of Acts recounts the story of a paralyzed man who begged near the Temple every morning. Apparently, there was a pool of water in one particular spot and legend had it that when the water stirred, it was the Holy Spirit. Thus, the first people to get into the water had a good chance of being healed.

That's what the legend said. I don't know if it was true or not, but I think the theology behind the legend was pretty solid: Find a "location" where you will intersect with the Holy Spirit and place yourself there.

I continue to read about spiritual discipline and its importance in our growth and connection to God. However, I think I may have had too much of a legalistic view of spiritual discipline. Well, more recently, I have come to understand that when I read scripture and pray and meditate that I experience a lot more peace in my life. I am more in tune or aligned with the Spirit. I just do a better job of living. There was a time, though, that I would have attributed that to the "laundry list" approach ... thinking that doing "good" things made me "good" and therefore I felt "good."

Again, I'll quote from The Leader's Journey -- Accepting the Call to Personal and Congregational Transformation. There is a chapter that deals with spiritual disciplines, aptly describing them as the path to transformation.

"You've all been to the stadium and seen the athletes race. Everyone runs; one wins. Run to win. All good athletes train hard. They do it for a gold medal that tarnishes and fades. You're after one that's gold eternally. I do not know about you, but I'm running hard for the finish line. I'm giving it everything I've got. No sloppy living for me! I'm staying alert and in top condition. I'm not going to get caught napping, telling everyone else all about it and then missing out myself." (bold face added by me) -- 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 (The Message)

It's easy to read these words of Paul's and conclude, I need to train harder. And while that conclusion is valid, you have to be careful that the devotion to "training" (that is, spiritual discipline) does not become more important to you than the fruit or affect itself.

A girlfriend and I were looking at a list of common addictions that a pastor whose Bible study we attend together had given us. "I don't get it," my friend said. "I understand addiction to drugs and alcohol and sex and gambling and the other stuff here. But how can you be addicted to religion?"

I told her, when performing your religious "acts" are more important than the reason for the acts; or when you beat yourself up or become anxious when you don't work your list, in hot pursuit of the short-term spiritual high, you have grown addicted to religion. We should never seek connection with God for the sole purpose of chasing down that certain "feeling." Being disciplined in our pursuit of God means trusting that even if the "holy buzz" doesn't happen, placing ourselves in God's presence has significant value.

In this particular chapter on spiritual discipline, the author begins by telling the story of a young associate minister of a mega-church who was required by his senior pastor to produce at least one person at every worship service who would join the church/make a profession of faith. Suddenly, he went from minister to quota man; and he was understandably disheartened by it. That's what I mean about focusing more on the mechanics than the fruit. It may appear that bringing someone to Christ is fruit, but not when approached as a goal, as if we are able to manipulate the Holy Spirit, which we can no sooner do than those poor beggars in the book of Acts could cause the waters of that mystical pool to stir on their own.

In his classic book Celebration of Discipline, Richard Foster reminds us that the spiritual disciplines are uniquely designed by God to allow us to receive His grace by allowing "us to place ourselves before God so that he can transform us." The path, The Leader's Journey emphasizes, does not produce the change; it only puts us in the place where the change can occur. But first, we must get on the path.

Being intentional about prayer and reading and studying and worshiping and fasting and Christian conversation, etc., is not about earning gold stars in God's book of good living. It's about practicing God's presence. This practicing of God's presence, to the extent we faithfully place ourselves mind, body and soul before the Holy Spirit and surrender control, we will find we are mysteriously transformed.

I don't know how it happens exactly, I just know that it does.

Spiritual transformation is a timely message during Lent, as we examine the behaviors and actions of those who surrounded Jesus during his ministry and the last 24 hours of his life. Judas betrayed him, the disciples deserted him, Peter denied him, the Sanhedrin condemned him, Pilate judged him and the Roman soldiers abused him. In a moment of pure honesty, we can see ourselves as one or more of these characters, understanding that we are all capable of gruesome acts of inhumanity. Yet God's response is to provide a way for us to experience grace and forgiveness, to help us understand who we truly are and who we are called to be, and to be transformed by the sacrificial love of God in Jesus Christ.

God is all about transformation. It didn't end when Jesus declared, "It is finished," committing his spirit to the Father and breathing his last. That was the means for giving us access to a place where we can visit as frequently as we desire, or likewise avoid entirely.

Walking that path is always our choice. Placing ourselves before God requires intention. Truly, God creates in us a desire for spiritual intimacy; reminding us to get in the pool where the waters are stirred.

Boundaries

2010-03-13T16:39:00.003-06:00

I like to work in the garden, especially this time of year. I love cutting off the dead stuff or clearing away the leaves and seeing what is poking up through the soil. I love watching the world come back to life; not just watching or witnessing it, though, but actually looking intently for it. I love walking through my garden and seeing what's putting out shoots and blooms. Witnessing growth is cool.

I had someone ask me if I was on a quest. They told me, "It just seems like you're looking for answers, in search of something."

I wouldn't characterize myself as being on a quest per se. I guess after years and years of taking care of small children and nearly every breathing person around me, I finally am trying to take care of myself. And you know what? It really is OK to take care of yourself. It's not a quest; it's just a better way to live.

One aspect of taking care of yourself that I have learned recently, in the process of taking care of myself, is the importance of boundaries: giving myself permission to establish my own boundaries and honoring those of others.

Is it my imagination, or is it human nature to "push the envelope," to pitch our tents right up against other people's boundaries, or even to cross over to the other side; and allow others to cross over to our side as well? I noticed this same tendency in nature today when I was clearing out my flower beds. The St. Augustine is bound and determined to make its way into the flower beds, sneaking under the steel "border" that separates the beds from the yard. Likewise, several vines and plants can't seem to wait to get into the grass. If everyone would stay where they're supposed to, I'd have a green, lush yard and beautiful, full flowerbeds.

But they won't. They keep running for the boundaries.

I'm reading a book called The Leader's Journey -- Accepting the Call to Personal and Congregational Transformation. This is one of the most enjoyable non-recreational books I have read in recent years. It covers two topics I am attuned to these days against the back drop of a third that also intrigues me. It's all about personal transformation and ministry, set against the principles of Bowen Family Systems.

But I digress...

One chapter talks about boundaries. I jotted down what it had to say because I thought it was important. Here it is:

Trespassing on Boundaries
1) Doing for others what they can do for themselves.
2) Demanding others conform to our thinking instead of valuing our differences and similarities.
3) Consistently trying to argue others out of their opinions.
4) Taking responsibility for the feelings or decisions of others.
5) Trying to control the behavior or responses of others.

Respecting Boundaries
1) Agreeing to disagree and moving on.
2) Communicating our own position and allowing others to do the same.
3) Taking responsibility for our own ideas and decisions.
4) Welcoming how others are different from us.
5) Saying no and setting limits when appropriate.
6) Taking care of our own needs without coercing others to take care of us.

Man, read those two lists and say the Lord's prayer and sing the Gloria Patri every morning and you're good to go on most days!

Respecting boundaries is critical to being self-defined, as Murray Bowen terms it. As I study the scripture (especially the Gospels), I find more and more evidence that Jesus was a very self-defined person.

He didn't let anyone impose their agenda on him, refusing to be the sword-bearing messiah and sticking to his position of suffering servant.

He set firm boundaries, recognizing when he needed to sneak off for solitude and actually doing it.

He refused to be manipulated, staying focused on God's plan and purpose. He let people know that they did not have power over him (read his exchange with Pilate in John's Gospel if you don't believe me).

He did the right thing every time, accompanied by actions that showed his love of mercy and his determination to walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8).

He listened to the "noise" from the religious leaders, allowing them to ask questions or express their outrage toward him (although sometimes he was reading their thoughts not hearing their words) and then sharing his position just as firmly.

When people made requests of him, if he could do it, he did. If he couldn't, he didn't. He explained why and moved on. (Think about the man who asked Jesus to tell his brother to share their father's inheritance, for example. Or those who requested healing and were initially refused until blowing Jesus away with their show of faith.)

He washed the disciples' feet because he wanted to.

He healed people because he wanted to.

He taught God's word because he wanted to.

And he suffered and died ... because he wanted to.

The man did not back down.

I have heard the idea of being "self-defined" as an excuse to be rude to people. Well, those who are rude in the process of being self-defined are not acting in love. Clearly, they are trespassing upon the boundaries of others.

It is OK to be clear on where you stand. It is OK to be clear on what you will and will not do. It is OK to be clear on your limits and to require others to respect those limits. And in the process, allow others to do the same and respect them for it.

Boundaries ... they are hard to maintain and to respect, but vital to the kind of living that keeps you standing and embracing life instead of knocking you on your butt.

Regrets

2010-03-07T20:17:00.004-06:00

I was digging in my garden on Saturday when I noticed more than a few bird feathers scattered on the ground. They were those of a mourning dove. I know because my son shot one on Friday with his “air soft” rifle.

My two sons used their Christmas money to buy the rifles – bb guns that are supposed to have less kick to them. The claim was that they would shoot them at coke cans in the back yard or at a nearby park.

On Friday afternoon, while I was working in my office, I heard my younger son outside my window, yelling at one of our dogs, “Ginger! Drop it! Drop it! Ginger!” This went on for several minutes before my son ultimately came to me and confessed he had shot a mourning dove. The shot didn’t kill it, but it did stun it long enough for the dog to catch it.

I said, “Now you know what can happen when you shoot at birds with that rifle…”

About 30 minutes later, he appeared in my doorway again, a sullen look on his face. I asked him, “What’s wrong?” He said he felt bad about the bird. He is my sensitive child. He was learning a painful lesson about regret. “Well, go talk to God about it, ask him to forgive you and don’t shoot birds anymore,” I said.

I felt as if I shot a mourning dove myself today. I had not meant any harm. I made what I thought was a reasonable request, but it pushed someone’s buttons. Later, a passing remark made this very evident. I was shocked. I had no idea my actions had been deemed so harmful. I said, "You know what? You may be right" and walked off. She called out, "I know I'm right." That stopped me in my tracks. I thought, I have to make this right.

I went back and apologized. I tried to make amends and I tried to be very sincere about it. I made sure my apology was accepted before I walked away.

But I felt absolutely terrible about it.

I couldn’t shake it during church and it seems I dredged up every regretful word and action I have committed in recent memory.

I was mad at myself, disgusted, tired of making the same stupid mistakes over and over and over again. I was also a little hurt. Why couldn't I have been given the benefit of the doubt? But I knew that was futile thinking.

When I went outside today to fertilize the plumerias around the pool, there were still a few feathers blowing around. I thought about my son's actions. I thought about my own. Then I resolved to move on.

Best possible

2010-03-06T16:42:00.005-06:00

Strive to love your neighbor actively and indefatigably. In as far as you advance in love you will grow surer of the reality of God and of the immortality of your soul. If you attain to perfect self-forgetfulness in the love of your neighbor, then you will believe without doubt, and no doubt can possibly enter your soul. – Fyodor Dostoyevski

I like Dostoyevski's admonition here that we should strive for perfect self-forgetfulness in the love of our neighbor. One way to define love others is to choose to view others in the best possible light. In fact, the way of love -- of perfect self-forgetfulness -- is the way of the cross.

If everyone would choose to see others in the best possible light, the world would indeed be a lovelier place to live in. Of course, it is no easy task to be so intentional about loving others. Sometimes, we just don't feel like loving others; we're tired, we're stressed or we're disinterested. We tell ourselves, "Well, no one loves me, why should I love them?" Or, "I'm sick to death of all these people whose egos are so fragile that I have to constantly be falling all other them, gushing compliments left and right."

But I digress. The original thought was to choose to see people in the best possible light. That means I don't try to guess people's motives or intentions. I don't examine remarks to death. I don't try to assign meaning where there simply isn't any. Instead, believing people to be worthy of love and valuable in my eyes, I can't help but see them in the best possible light.

Choosing love in all situations is related to living a righteous life -- being in right relationship with God, with one another and with ourselves.

I will speak here to the second point. Being in right relationship with others definitely relates back to seeing others in the best possible light. Here's the thing, though. It is not reciprocal. Sometimes people don't choose to see me in the best possible light. And sometimes I can be very thin-skinned about it. In fact, in the absence of reciprocity, I tend to react with, "all bets are off" and believe this means I am free to treat the other person poorly. Ah, but I know this is not the way of love.

Then there's the nagging question of the boomerang. If I receive what I give and someone treats me poorly, do I need to do a reality check? Do I need to ask myself, am I getting back what I have given to others?

Now I know that if I am nice to Sally and always choose to see her in the best possible light, there is no guarantee that she will do the same. But ... someone else will. In that instance, what I have sown in my relationship with her, I am reaping in my relationship with another.

Again, I'm back to the boomerang. If I am nice to Sally but rude to Bob, maybe Steve is going to be rude to me and maybe Cathy, in Sally's place, will be nice to me. Yet I may choose to focus on Steve's treatment. I feel offended that he has treated be badly, conveniently forgetting my own shabby treatment of Bob. I reason that Steve is not deserving of my good opinion. And thus I unleash more boomerang affects.

I know, this is terribly complicated; perhaps even a bit obsessive or legalistic. Yet the bottom line is this: Be nice to Sally and think the best possible thoughts about her, no matter what. Likewise, when Steve is rude, be nice to Steve and think the best possible thought about him, no matter what.

That is choosing to love and it is a way of life that Jesus not only achieved in magnificent fashion but also required his followers to emulate.

Not bad for a girl

2010-03-04T14:56:00.004-06:00

I addressed the Board of Elders of another denomination the other night. I had been approached by them to make a presentation about how our church does outreach ministry. I felt honored to be asked about something I feel so passionate about.

I left BINGO at Turning Point early in order to make the appointment. And I knew that this denomination is much more conservative than the Methodist church. I knew that they had this "thing" about women being in leadership positions; that women could not be pastors; that women could not be in authority over men. And I confess I giggled in a mischievous manner to myself at the notion that they were asking me, a woman, the weaker of the sex, to give them a few pointers.

When I arrived, I stepped inside the room and looked around. I quickly counted 18 heads. All men. Not a woman among them.

Well, duh Tammy! Of course! The BOARD OF ELDERS ... the big kahuna leadership and vision team of this denomination. No women allowed!

Now, my giggle transformed to sadness. How terribly sad! How tragic! What June Cleavers attended this church anyway? Did they honestly believe it was OK that they were not accepted as legitimate participants in the highest governing body in their congregation? Wow, I struggled to wrap my mind around it.

My presentation went well. And when I had finished answering their questions, they gathered around me and prayed over me. It was touching, but there was a suspicious part of me that said, "Well, they're just doing this because I am a woman and I need all the help I can get."

I later called a friend of ours who lives in another city. This friend is a minister in this same denomination. It turns out one of the people in the room for my presentation -- the youth director who is not an elder but was just making a report that evening -- was previously on the staff of my friend's church. So I said, Kevin, text him and ask him what he thought of me. (I confess my fragile ego cried out for validation.)

Kevin texted back later, "He said, 'She was cool ... so smart ... so passionate.'"

Hmmm. Not bad for a girl, but not good enough to be in authority over a man...

(Yeah, I know, sour grapes -- forgive me.)

Empty

2010-03-04T14:27:00.002-06:00

It's such a simple concept. How could it evade me so easily?

You can't give what you don't have.

You can't squeeze blood from a turnip.

If all you do is exhale and never inhale, you'll eventually wind up passed out on the floor.

I'm speaking to the idea of keeping yourself spiritually nourished.

Today at Bible study we were looking at the 16th and 17th chapters of Matthew's gospel. In the early part of chapter 17, a man brings his young son to Jesus. It seems this boy has a demon and the disciples have tried to drive it out, but have failed.

Jesus seems annoyed that he is the only one who can pull this off, even referring to the crowd as unbelieving and perverse and asking, "How much longer do I have to stay with you?"

Later, the disciples ask, why couldn't we drive the demon out? Jesus answers, because you have so little faith. On previous occasions, the pastor who teaches this Bible study has made the point that there are no recorded healings in the gospels that do not require at least some small show of faith on the part of the recipient, but that is really a tangent to what I am writing about.

There is a note in the margin of my Bible that reads, "Some manuscripts, 'But this kind does not go out except by prayer and fasting.'

Does this literally mean that the disciples should have prayed and fasted first before attempting to cast out this demon? That when the father brought the boy, like the Wizard of Oz, they should have put him off? "Come back tomorrow, after we have had a chance to pray and fast."

The pastor clarified that the disciples did not spend enough time attending to their spiritual appetites; they did not spend enough time lingering in the presence of God (and isn't that a lovely way of phrasing it?)

I felt like I was smacked in the head as he uttered these words. Of course! Life gets crazy busy and what's the first thing to go? Quiet time. Bible study. Worship. Meditation.

If we deprive ourselves of sleep (as I often do), we feel as if we are dragging these fleshly tents after us, perpetually exhausted. So what do we do? Eventually, our bodies shut down completely, leaving us little choice but to sleep.

If we deprive ourselves of food, we get hungry, cranky, shaky, headache-y. The other day, I was making dinner. I thought, man, I'm hungry. Then I started to take an inventory of my day and realized, I had never stopped to eat lunch. No wonder!

There are so many times when I ache for God's presence. When I feel famished. When I have completely emptied myself out and failed to adequately fill back up again. Or I recognize that I am lacking what I need, yet resist filling up. What is up with that?

It seems the longer I am involved in ministry, the greater my need is. Why is that? Shouldn't I get in better shape spiritually? You know, like when you run. Initially, a mile kills you. Eventually, you're pounding out 3 miles without even thinking about it. But spirituality seems to work in reverse. Why is that? And why does it leave me feeling like some sort of pathetic loser when my soul cries out for God, all but smacking me in the head for being so dense and missing it?

Staying with the running metaphor, when 1 mile is too easy, we naturally step up to 2 or 3 in order to get the same cardio-vascular benefits. So maybe spirituality doesn't really work in reverse afterall.

Every week, before I teach my classes with the rehab ladies (and I mean minutes before), my team circles up and we hold hands and pray. And I nearly always ask God to fill us back up again as we empty ourselves in service to him. I know he is faithful to do this, but it still requires me to slow down. No, to come to a complete stop and attend to nothing but lingering in his presence.

Faith is like defiance, the pastor said today, persistently holding God's hand no matter what and declaring at the end of the day, "OK, I'm still standing." Yet it is not by sheer willpower that this happens. It is taking in and giving out and taking in and giving out and taking in and giving out, never forgetting that you can't give what you don't have.

That seems simple enough.

Sleep. Eat. Replenish.

Breathe.

God of confusion

2010-02-14T17:03:00.004-06:00

We do not serve a God of confusion...

It's pretty bad when you quote scripture that apparently does not exist.

I am almost certain that in one of Paul's epistles, there is a reference to how we do not serve a God of confusion. But where is it?? Where???

Alas, I have done several keyword searches at biblegateway.com and am unable to unearth this passage or anything close to it. Did I make it up?

Ah hah ... I changed the "translation" I was searching under and have found it. 1 Corinthians 14:33 says, "...for God is not a God of confusion, but of peace..."

I'm glad I found it, as I often quote this scripture to make the point that God does not leave us dazed and confused about his purposes and will. We cannot serve him if we are completely confounded about what he is about.

And yet ... can confusion be a blessing from God?

While searching for the 1 Corinthians text, I found several passages that describe God as throwing individuals, peoples or entire armies into a state of confusion for one purpose or another. So it seems that confusion is a tool in God's tool chest.

But can it be a good tool? I don't mean effective; I mean, can it be ... a blessing?

I have several little devotional books I read on a regular basis. This morning, I came across this statement: "Confusion can be a gift from God. Looking back on instances when I felt desperately in need of an immediate solution, I can see that often I wasn't ready to act. When I became fully ready, the information I needed was there for the taking .... Today, when I am feeling confused, I try to consider it grace. It may not yet be time for me to act." (Courage to Change, February 14th)

The reading ends with this enlightening little reminder: "I will thank my Higher Power for whatever I experience today, even if I feel troubled or confused. I know that every experience can offer me a gift. All I have to be willing to do is to look at my situation in the light of gratitude."

If you spend much time with people in recovery like I do, you start to pick up on their "language." Phrases like, "Let go and let God" and "attitude of gratitude" and "spot it, got it" begin to permeate the landscape. It's easy to say, "What a nice little sentiment for those sweet little addicts," totally missing the bigger picture: These expressions have some meat to them.

Give thanks in all situations. That's what joy is all about. Recognize the power of redemption. I'm not dropping meaningless, "holy" words here in the name affect, but rather I am saying, living abundantly often means believing God can and will give value to every situation and experience in life. That is the power of redemption.

"Are you telling me that God can use me in his big picture even when I'm not doing what I should?" This was an actual question posed to me 2 weeks ago by one of the rehab ladies. After a hiccup of hesitation, I responded, "absolutely." I confess that in my head, I was sort of saying, "...um, yeah ... I think ... no wait ... yeah, that's right ... that is what I'm saying, isn't it?" One of my ministry partners, Denise, piped up during my nano-pause and said, "...he especially can use you then." Gold star, Denise.

Now admittedly, staying in this mind set is not easy. Why? Because I insist on doing so much thinking. Then I get confused about how God can do all of this stuff. And that's when confusion becomes a blessing. "Tammy, stop trying to figure it out and just believe; just embrace." Have the faith of a little child, right? That's what the "God voice" in my head seems to be saying. But it's hard. Holy smokes, it's hard.

All situations can have value in God's Kingdom; in his bigger picture. And it's not up to me to wade through the confusion and find the value, but rather believe like a child that it is already there. In His perfect time and way, God can and will give value to all things before me, with me and ahead of me. He will do it to bring glory to His name, to bless me, to bless others, to show me that I have incredible worth in his eyes and to restore my broken soul, even as he restores the brokenness of those around me.

That's pretty cool.

So I'll say thank you to God ... with an attitude of gratitude ... for confusion.

Boomerang

2010-02-06T09:09:00.002-06:00

You get what you give.

The 1986 motion picture Children of a Lesser God featured William Hurt as the teacher at a school for the deaf who falls in love with a young woman (Marlee Matlin) who was once a student there. Hurt's character is trying to liven things up for the students and teaches them a song called "Boomerang." I have googled like crazy to get the lyrics for this song by Michael Convertino, but struck out. Suffice to say, it speaks of unrequited love and how, no matter what the listener does, the author promises his love will continue to come back to her (even chase her down) like a boomerang.

Boomerangs are very interesting toys/weapons. When the user is skilled in its use, he can truly cause the boomerang to return to his hand throw after throw after throw.

I say all of this to work my way back to the beginning ... you get what you give. This Christian concept used to confound me. You see, I wanted grace and forgiveness from God regardless of how I treated others. "Wait a minute, you can't possibly hold me accountable for THAT ... you're supposed to forgive me no matter what!" I thought Christianity was all about a get out of jail free card.

Which brings me to Bill ... the fictitious name of someone I go to church with. Bill can be very kind and loving, but at times, he feels perfectly justified in saying exactly what is on his mind, contrary to my preconceived notions of how he should behave in the name of Christian love and acceptance.

Case in point .... There's a woman at our church who is fairly new. Let's call her Katy. It seems she has some mental health issues because she often rambles on and on about things that don't really match up with the discussion at hand. Last week, Katy was monopolizing the conversation in Sunday school. The teacher got anxious about it and said something to Bill later. So what do you suppose he did? He went right to her and told her she was being disruptive.

Initially, I was beside myself. But wait ... after some honesty, I had to admit that I too have treated this woman poorly in my mind. She has taken a shine to me because I have shown her kindness outwardly, while on the inside thinking, oh no, here she comes again. You see, I showed her the kindness before I really knew what she was like. So now, I want to take my kindness back so she will leave me alone. My, what a mess!

Here I was all ready to condemn Bill when I share in his guilt. I claim I want to accept everyone, but there's something about Katy that makes me nervous; makes me want to turn down the opposite hallway when I see her coming.

Remember when everyone used to wear those rubber bracelets that said, WWJD? (What would Jesus do). We used to act like these were reminders of how we should behave. Truth is, most of the time, they were adornments to announce our piety and then to behave in a manner that WE determined was what Jesus would have done.

So how did Jesus treat people like this woman? Well ... it may be a stretch, but here's an example:

17 As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him. He fell on his knees before Jesus. "Good teacher," he said, "what must I do to receive eternal life?"
18 "Why do you call me good?" Jesus answered. "No one is good except God. 19 You know what the commandments say. 'Do not commit murder. Do not commit adultery. Do not steal. Do not give false witness. Do not cheat. Honor your father and mother.' "—(Exodus 20:12-16; Deuteronomy 5:16-20)
20 "Teacher," he said, "I have obeyed all those commandments since I was a boy."
21 Jesus looked at him and loved him. "You are missing one thing," he said. "Go and sell everything you have. Give the money to those who are poor. You will have treasure in heaven. Then come and follow me."
22 The man's face fell. He went away sad, because he was very rich. Mark 10:17-22

Here's Jesus off to do something and this man stops him to engage him in conversation. Even though he drops on his knees before Jesus, it seems he is out to justify his own goodness by his question. In response to his self-righteous reply to Jesus that he has obeyed ALL the commandments since he was a boy, the Bible tells us, "Jesus looked at him and loved him."

THAT is what Jesus would do ... love the guy before responding.

Mind you, Jesus' response is a hard reality for this man to accept, but it sprang from Jesus' love for the man.

How can I react lovingly toward Katy? How can I look at her and love her before I talk? I know that I'm not called to necessarily ignore her anxiety-producing antics in Sunday school. That might smack of enabling or taking care of her feelings. But to totally ignore her actions, which admittedly make me a little anxious, knowing that others around me are having a tough time of loving her because of them, which ultimately hurts her, I have to ask myself, what is the most loving response to her?

Of course, I can't pull any of this off until I resolve to love her, like I did in the first place, before I knew her. Love her as I know her, foibles and all; that's what Jesus would do.

Reading a lesson on forgiveness this morning, I saw once again that God will require an accounting from us of how we treated others. It doesn't really matter how many Bible studies I teach or how many times I give a homeless person money or work in the soup kitchen or go on mission trips if I can't pull off loving my neighbor as myself.

The apostle Paul says as much in the first 3 verses that lead up to the "love anthem" in 1 Corinthians 13:

1 Suppose I speak in the languages of human beings and of angels. If I don't have love, I am only a loud gong or a noisy cymbal. 2 Suppose I have the gift of prophecy. Suppose I can understand all the secret things of God and know everything about him. And suppose I have enough faith to move mountains. If I don't have love, I am nothing at all. 3 Suppose I give everything I have to poor people. And suppose I give my body to be burned. If I don't have love, I get nothing at all.

I want to suggest that faking it until you make it is probably acceptable, as long as we realize it is a short-term solution and that at some point, faking love needs to progress on to authentic love. And maybe that's where I'm at ... "faking" love for this woman until I can make it. Yet I also know that love is a deliberate choice. Mark's gospel did not report that Jesus looked at the man and pretended to love him, or wished that he could love him, or acted like he loved him, or intended to eventually love him. He just loved him.

We are to be imitators of Christ, right?

We are to exercise toward others what we receive in the way of love and compassion and forgiveness and patience from God, right?

We understand that as we treat others, we can expect to be treated, right?

... like that boomerang.

I'll be darned if it doesn't come back every time and thwack me in the head!

Love as Freedom

2010-02-03T09:27:00.004-06:00

My husband read something funny to me the other day that was printed in a publication. It said something like this, If you love something, let it go. If it doesn't return, it was never yours in the first place. If it sits on the couch, eats all your food and watches TV, you either married it or gave birth to it.

That made me laugh. But it brings up an important concept of love as freedom. You see, I'm convinced that many of us have experienced love more as control than freedom, and maybe that makes us reluctant to give or receive love. Maybe our parents were a little controlling in the name of loving us; or maybe it was a boy/girlfriend, or our childhood best friend, or our siblings, or our spouses. Maybe in the name of erecting a protective little fence around us to keep what was most precious to them close by, we found ourselves caged in. Maybe "church" people told us that God wants us to behave and made us believe that unless we did, he wouldn't love us or he'd be disappointed in us or mad at us (that's called conditional love, quite the opposite of God's unconditional love).

Paul describes love quite beautifully in his epistle to the Corinthians. Everyone has heard this passage ... mostly at weddings. In fact, my father had this passage "under glass" on his desk (along with a newspaper clipping of General MacArthur). I glanced at these words repeatedly growing up, but I never knew that they were from the Bible until many, many years later.

Here's what Paul says:

4 Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not want what belongs to others. It does not brag. It is not proud. 5 It is not rude. It does not look out for its own interests. It does not easily become angry. It does not keep track of other people's wrongs.
6 Love is not happy with evil. But it is full of joy when the truth is spoken. 7 It always protects. It always trusts. It always hopes. It never gives up.
8 Love never fails. ... 13 The three most important things to have are faith, hope and love. But the greatest of them is love. -- 1 Corinthians 13:4-8, 13

I don't read anything there that implies, love sets high expectations; or love taps its foot waiting for compliance; or love shakes its head in contempt; or love rages in anger; or love tells you what you can or cannot do.

Love is awfully brave in choosing to express itself in the way the Apostle describes. And we are quite brave in our attempts to express it this way as well, even if we fail miserably at times.

God's love is freedom, setting me free from the guilt and power of sin in my life; setting me from to become the best possible expression of who I am. And it has the potential to turn our lives and our world upside down.

Freedom

2010-01-31T19:37:00.004-06:00

We don't have to judge anyone if we don't want to. We're free. Isn't that great???

The teachers of the law and the Pharisees brought in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand before the group and said to Jesus, "Teacher this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the Law Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?" They were using this question as a trap, in order to have a basis for accusing him. But Jesus bent down and started to write on the ground with his finger. 7When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, "If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone at her." 8Again he stooped down and wrote on the ground. -- John 8:3-8

I have used this passage for many, many posts and lessons. I usually focus on the audacity of the religious leaders to bring the woman to Jesus (notice her partner is conspicuously missing) and Jesus' ultimate refusal to condemn her. It's a message we all need to hear ... "Neither to I condemn you," followed by the instruction to be the best possible "someone" she knows how to be (which some translations render as, "... leave your life of sin.")

The picture that appears in my head is that of the religious leaders and other members of the posse skulking away in shame. They are convicted as Jesus writes in the dirt, suddenly realizing the extent to which they fall short of God's ideal.

Yet just as Jesus does not condemn the woman, and in essence sets her free from condemnation, so he is trying to set the religious leaders free as well. Suddenly, in that moment of realizing the full weight of their own frailty, they were free to live without judging others. They don't have to be the police anymore! In fact, they are set free to accept and love people just as they are.

We all are.

Am I the only person who thinks that's really exciting?

I can interact with people and be entirely free to love them and support them and befriend them and accept them. That feels great to me, because frankly, that keeping tabs on everyone else stuff is really exhausting! No, it's suffocating. No, it's oppressive!

So be free! Live in the freedom of God's love and express that freedom to others. Give everyone the break they don't deserve ... because you can. And I'll bet you'll sleep better tonight!

Gentle and Free of Pride...

2010-01-27T19:48:00.002-06:00

I got into a discussion about the wrath of God today. A friend from church and I are trying to forge a partnership with another ministry group in the community. Before agreeing to our partnership, they asked us to go to their website and read their statement of beliefs. If we were in agreement with them, great; if not, perhaps the partnership was not such a great idea. The last statement was about God's wrath and I confess, I squirmed. It was stated so strongly, so opposite to the my understanding of God's love, that I knew I could not embrace it. Yet in the name of connecting with people who were looking to connect with God (not the "organization," but their clients), I convinced myself that "wrath" is just their take on God's judgment; whereas my take on God's judgment is one of justice, mercy and love.

I think there are a lot of people in the world who are confused about God's character; and that bums me out. Usually this confusion comes not from reading the Scripture under the direction of the Holy Spirit, but by accepting sight-unseen the teachings of the well-intentioned. The prophet Jeremiah quotes God as saying there will be a day when a man will no longer have to teach his brother about God, because we will know God ourselves (this is a paraphrasing of Jeremiah 31) . That day has come ... we have the ability now to know God. Yet many of us continue to rely solely on the words and teachings of others. I think that's a little dangerous.

Wow, I really wanted to post on Matthew 11:28-30, but my how I digress! Let's see if I can find my way back home again. Here's the passage, as rendered by the New International Reader's Version: "Come to me, all of you who are tired and are carrying heavy loads. I will give you rest. Become my servants and learn from me. I am gentle and free of pride. You will find rest for your souls. Serving me is easy and my load is light."

Some translations use the word "yoke" for "serving me." You'll hear all kinds of interpretations and explanations on this passage, especially where the word "yoke" is concerned; about being unevenly "yoked" or "yoked" to things we shouldn't be yoked to, or that the word "yoke" is a word the rabbis in that day used when they meant their individual teachings. Regardless, I don't want to focus on what it's like to become a servant of Christ. I want to focus on what God is like, based on the revelation of Jesus Christ.

"I am gentle and free of pride."

Try to connect these ideas to that of an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-encompassing God. It just doesn't make sense to our human brains. How many people in powerful positions are gentle and free of pride? Nearly zero. Yet our Heavenly Father and our Lord are described in this puzzling yet soothing manner ... gentle and free of pride.

I've been using this as a yard stick lately, thinking about my words and actions and thoughts and motives and honestly asking myself, am I behaving in a manner that shows me to be gentle and free of pride?

This week, I taught on living a life of moral significance. One of the key concepts I stressed was that of desiring goodness, not just "being good." Desiring goodness and expressing this desire to God places him in the driver's seat of possibility. Even if I fall short of doing good (correction, when I fall short), I can still continue to desire goodness.

Likewise, in the name of desiring goodness, I can desire to be gentle and free of pride.

And if I am to be gentle toward others, I first have to learn to be gentle toward myself. What do you suppose would happen if every person in the world would spend one 24-hour period treating themselves in a gentle manner? One full day of loving myself and cutting myself some slack. What would that manifest?

I'd like to find out.

So I won't beat myself up when I fall short of my preconceived notion of the ideal. I have learned recently that when people disappoint us, or when we disappoint ourselves, sometimes we simply need to lower our expectations. This is not to say we "run the race" in a meaningless, erratic manner (to borrow Paul's metaphor). It means coming to the understanding that just as we can never disappoint God, who after all knows and loves us so completely that his expectations for us are always individually perfect, we can never disappoint ourselves. If we embrace our frailty, feel sorrow for our shortcomings, yet understand that our desire for God's goodness can remain steadfast, we can learn to live abundant lives with ourselves and those around us.

To grow.

To thrive.

To love.

To be gentle and free of pride.

Answering Place

2010-01-27T19:20:00.002-06:00

I am teaching a book right now to the rehab ladies called "Knowing God: Making God the Main Thing in Your Life." It's by Kimberly Reisman and ... in my humble opinion ... it is quite excellent. This is the second time I've taught this book, possibly the third. And as I read each chapter again, I keep learning new stuff.

Amazing.

Last week we talked about prayer ... the invisible force in our lives. One of the phrases Reisman used to refer to prayer is our "answering place."

I like that.

I don't know why prayer makes such a difference, but it does. And I don't know why I sometimes resist it, but I do.

To be an answering place, prayer has to be viewed and understood as that sacred, so-near-yet-so-far place where we experience the Divine presence. Finding your way into that presence is nothing short of miraculous. I can't navigate my way to it per se ... I just seem to land there (but not always). I do know that there are 2 things that most keep me from that Divine destination. One is fatigue; the other is anxiety.

I can't tell you how many times my prayers have taken on a surreal quality, with me drifting into all sorts of images and dialogues and scenarios with people I don't even know. No, I am not having visions. I am dreaming. In those moments of oppressive fatigue, I simply drift off to sleep in mid sentence. When I become "aware" that I am on the launchpad of rem, I seem to startle back awake again. And do I then get up and go to sleep, obeying my mind and body? No, of course not. I try again, only to zoom right back to dream land, some strange, psychedelic dream.

Anxiety keeps me from God's presence as well, which is sort of ironic when you consider the peace we experience in his presence; and our anxiety is certainly a testimony to our need for peace. It's as if my mind simply will not be still. I "think" I am praying, but before I know it, I am in the land of instant reply or fast forward. Instant reply is me processing again and again a particular incident. Maybe it was today, maybe it was a week ago, maybe it was 20 years ago. But there it is, fresh in my mind, and I seem to be watching it from every possible angle with morbid fascination. Fast forward is probably worse. It's me taking God out of the "yet to be" aspects of prayer and allowing myself to direct my future. I think of something and then play it out in vivid, sometimes ridiculous detail ... things that will simply never be.

As I read over the writing above, I have to either chuckle at myself or consider being committed. Since I am learning to give myself a break, I will laugh, surely as God is laughing, and gently chastise myself for repeatedly falling victim to instant reply and fast forward.

Now about that "yet to be" aspect of prayer ... this is me and God dreaming together; dreaming big, impossible, outrageous thoughts (but this time, it is God's kind of outrageous). I used to really rush through this type of prayer, but now I find a great deal of enjoyment in hitting the slow motion button. I watch with wide-eyed fascination as God puts pictures in front of me of my ambition-driven "what-ifs." I practice "manifesting" things -- speaking them into existence. Only I don't mean wishful manifestation, like, if I say this loud enough and fast enough, maybe, maybe, maybe, oh pretty please God, it just may come to pass. No, it is as if there is actual power behind my words ... as if they are sort of speaking themselves.

Again, I am either right-on or crazy. (I won't phrase this as a question, because I know better than to ask a question I don't want to know the answer to.)

The last concept that I want to explore here from the study with the rehab ladies and my own personal prayer practices is this mind-blowing promise by Jesus that anything we ask in his name, we will be granted. I am convinced there are so many people who abuse this scripture (and some of them are on television). Invoking the name of Jesus is not magical fairy dust. No, it is more an assumption; that the very thing we are praying for, if we dare pray in the name of Jesus, we are speaking on his behalf. (I don't like the way I am phrasing this.) It's as if we are praying for the things that God would want for our lives, our family, our world; and being careful not to pray for things that he certainly would not want for our lives, our family, our world. Now I am a big proponent of total honesty with God. So I'm not suggesting that we can't bring things to God in moments of total honesty that, in our minds at least, need to be said. I'm just saying that these kinds of things are unlikely to come to pass through the transforming power and energy of the Divine. The Bible teaches that God will give us the desires of our heart, but is it possible that this is most likely when we have totally given our heart over to the Divine?

Prayer is puzzling. It is mysterious. It is awe-inspiring. It is fascinating. There is more to it than my finite mind can grasp, but I like it. It is a place where God and I intersect, sometimes in a mind-blowing way; other times in a gentle, feathery whisper. It is my answering place.

Tiptoeing through life

2010-01-23T16:54:00.003-06:00

There are things about myself that I have been working on, sort of ... stuff that I hope will align me more closely to God's vision of me; the best possible version of me. While I'm trying to curb tendencies like controlling people or taking care of them or being critical or losing my temper, I find I still have this urge ... to cause trouble.

I don't think this is such a bad thing. I continue in my reading of Shane Claiborne's Irresistible Revolution. The author refers to himself as an ordinary radical, but I think he thinks too little of himself. This is one of these books that should make you uncomfortable; uncomfortable as you realize how you have become complacent and fat in your thinking; comfortable; safe. Yes, that's the worst part ... being safe.

In today's reading, he shared a quote from one of his college professors that I can surely relate to: "All around you, people will be tiptoeing through life, just to arrive at death safely. Dear children, do not tiptoe. Run, hop, skip or dance, but do not tiptoe."

From a literal point of view, I'm not running much these days. Somehow, I've gone from running 10 miles a week to 1 if I'm lucky. How is that possible? And today, as I was rehearsing a play at church, jumping up and down off the stage and feeling awfully winded, I thought, wow, I'm just not as fit as I used to be. Oh sure, skinny as a rail, but not fit in a cardio-vascular sense.

No, I'm really not digressing ... here comes the transition.

Yes, my physical running has all but ceased. I don't want the same to be true of my spiritual running. I don't think I've annoyed anyone lately at church and I'm thinking, that's probably not good. I don't get off to being annoying and irksome. I just mean, if the things I'm up to aren't making somebody uncomfortable, something's wrong.

I've become too comfortable.

I've abandoned running, hopping, skipping and dancing and taken up tiptoeing.

I've learned in the last 9 months that when we look at ourselves, first there is awareness. Then acceptance. Then action. I preach these words to the ladies in rehab a lot, even as I apply them to myself. So I'm aware of the tiptoeing. I'm accepting it (I mean, accepting that it is an accurate description). And now it's time to act.

I have several partnerships in the works right now ... activities that I have to convince other people to jump on board with. It's hard because this voice in my head says, "You won't find anyone who will do this..." Yet I have said so many times myself, think big, dream big, don't be afraid to be outrageous.

Of the 3 classes I teach each week, one is filled with women who are either hopeless, complacent, exhausted or apathetic. (Or a unique combination of the four.) Another class is filled with women who are so out of control, they need a new word for it. The third is my favorite class, stuffed with seekers who always want to chase rabbits and ask all kinds of questions.

In each of these classes, I wonder, how can I convey to them this idea of refusing to tiptoe through life? They think they want security, but chaos is so familiar to them, I wonder how I could help to direct their familiarity (even love) of chaos toward some irresistibly revolutionary pursuits?

I'll tell you all a secret ... the church belongs to these women. Man, could they turn modern day religion on its ear if they would just embrace this fact! They could totally get in people's faces. They could challenge us and rebuke us and shame us. "Oh, you love your neighbor as yourself? Well I've seen your neighbors. What's so hard about that? Why don't you all travel about 5 miles down the road and try loving those people? Come on, hit me with your best shot!"

I feel as if I am all over the page here with random thoughts, but here's the point. Passion. Claiborne describes Jesus as his dangerous lover. He's right. The man was dangerous; still is. How can I take a few risks and invite some of that holy danger into my life?

How can I make sure I'm not tiptoeing to a safe and sure death?

How can I make a few people squirm, feel indignant and attempt to beat off the truth in front of them?

We come up with all these "safe" little programs and activities at our church; wholesome and predictable do-gooder stuff. We ask God to bless this and bless that. But you know what? Jesus was very clear on what gets God's blessing: those who mourn, those who suffer for righteousness, those who are meek, those who are peacemakers, those who are persecuted and the like. I like fun and wholesome activities as much as the next person, but how can we counter-balance that stuff with a little holy danger?

How?? I dunno ... yet ... but I'm putting it out there that I'm certainly going to try.

Jesus patch

2010-01-16T16:34:00.003-06:00

I was cooking dinner a few nights ago when my phone rang. It was Denise, one of my girlfriends who is on my ministry team and who attends Bible study with me at another Methodist church in town. She had missed class two weeks earlier and like a good student, was reviewing the missed week's passage, trying to make heads or tails of it. "Can you explain this one part?" she asked. Sure, I said, what is it?

The text for that week was taken from Matthew 9. The passage she was puzzling over came from verses 16 and 17: "No one sews a patch of unshrunk cloth on an old garment, for the patch will pull away from the garment, making the tear worse. Neither do men pour new wine into old wineskins. If they do, the skins will burst, the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins, and both are preserved."

I had some ideas about this passage before going to class that day, but I walked out resolved that the Pastor had done a far better job of interpreting it than I had. What he said was something like this. You can't patch your life with Jesus.

I love that. A Jesus patch.

Jesus was trying to make his disciples understand that hanging out with him meant their lives were going to change. In fact, if they didn't change, they should be worried.

Our connection with God is not just a "thang" in our lives. It's the thang. In other words, as this Pastor put it, we don't say of ourselves, "Well, I'm an engineer and I'm married and I have kids and grandkids and I belong to Rotary and I'm a Christian."

Our faith is not a part of the laundry list that describes the essence of who we are. No, our faith, our connection to God, our willingness to give God access to our lives and pursue his presence, should be at the center of who we are (or are trying to become). And everything else rotates around that, just as the planets rotate around the sun.

You can't put your new faith into your old life. You don't patch Jesus onto your old life.

I couldn't help but think of a nicotine patch when the Pastor was talking. That's not the metaphor Jesus was conjuring up when he used the word "patch," but think about it. The nicotine patch is trying to help you curb your appetite to nicotine. It gives you just a little fix as you slowly but surely wean yourself off the chemical you've grown addicted to.

Isn't that how we view God at times? Well, he's this power that I just paste onto my bod and suddenly, I don't have all those bad urges anymore. Yeah, eventually, I'll get it under control again and I won't need this ol' thang, but in the mean time, this Jesus Patch sure is a sweet deal!

Now mind you, John Wesley taught his followers (who later became the Methodist Church) that salvation is the freedom from the guilt of sin and the power of sin, so in some respects, the Jesus Patch falls into this thinking. Why, that patch removes the power of sin over me (if I wear it, that is).

But there is more to our faith life than salvation.

Yeah, I'll type that again ... there is more to our faith life than salvation.

Salvation is a starting point, but from that point on, as I surrender my will and my ways and my pride to the will of God; as I seek out his presence and practice disciplines that place me in proximity of his influence and authority; my "world" slowly but surely changes course.

I stop being the center of my universe and give that position to its rightful owner: God, revealed to me through Jesus Christ.

We can play at our faith, peel off that patch every day and slap it on our arm or our leg or our back and convince ourselves that everything's gonna be just fine now. Or we can embrace the fact that we shouldn't be putting and taking Jesus on and off as our whims dictate.

The power and presence of God is so much more than a patch on my life. I want to make sure I remember that; and live like I believe it.

Welcome to crazy town

2010-01-15T16:40:00.002-06:00

Or ... why working with addicts is so much darn fun!

Every time I think things are going really well with the staff and/or clients of the rehab facilities that I work with, something goes awry.

Last weekend, we put on a retreat for the ladies at the two rehab facilities I interface with. At the last minute, one facility pulled out because they would not put their vehicle on the road during the extremely cold snap. So typical. I called the other facility, told them they could bump up their participant numbers, and moved on.

Of course, they didn't. We were expecting 60 women. 38 arrived. But hey, we provided an amazing day of learning, loving and connection for them.

I was sick this week, so I didn't teach at one of the facilities. But that night, I called the other to make sure a particular client group would be able to attend NA. We send our vans over to pick these clients up and transport them back and forth to the NA meeting at our church. I called the program director while lounging sick in bed. He whispered into the phone, "I'm in a meeting, let me call you right back."

Of course he never did. And of course the ladies weren't allowed to attend the NA meeting that night, which annoyed my two van drivers just a little, having made a wasted trip to the facility. (And who can blame them?)

Another van minister emailed me the next day after hearing of the incident and complained, "This is the second week this has happened..." I promptly replied, "Welcome to my world. Been working with addicts long?"

I called another program director yesterday to confirm that a different client group would be able to attend the 12-step class on Sunday mornings that we created just for them. He said, "You need to call so-and-so ... she's over those clients now. I've moved to outpatient." Ugh! Every time I establish a really good working relationship with a staff person, they switch and move around and I have to start all over again.

A friend called this morning. She has allowed a woman discharged from one of the facilities to move in with her. She likes to call and report on her progress and I'm trying very hard to stay out of the triangle. She told me she's been keeping tabs on how many AA meetings this woman attends and wondered, should she try to smell her breath too? I said, Stop! Do NOT monitor the addict. That is a big no-no. There is nothing you can do to control her behavior. We talked some more and then I hung up the first opportune moment.

And then there's "Jane." That's the name I'll give an acquaintance who is an alcoholic. She constantly tumbles in and out of sobriety. I have propped her up over the years, but have found I just can't do it anymore. For the past few months, when she has texted asking for a date to drink coffee, I have refused her. She insists, "But I'm not drinking ... I'm sober." I try very hard to convince her it's not about whether she is using or not, it is about my emotional well-being. I just don't feel like taking care of her any more.

And so it goes ... putting up boundaries, taking down boundaries, caring for people but not taking care of people, learning to love more, be more patient, understand more of how God would have me fit into this peculiar puzzle.

And yes, a lot of the time, it feels like my GPS is set to crazy town.

Life before death

2010-01-10T16:26:00.006-06:00

Well, I'm nearly half-way through the latest book on my reading table, "Irresistible Revolution," by Shane Claiborne. It is one of several "books" influencing my thinking today.

Claiborne makes an interesting statement: "We can tell the world there is life after death but the world really seems to be wondering if there is life before death."

Life before death. Isn't that what all of us are after? Isn't that what really drives materialism and greed and selfishness? Heck, crime, addiction, prejudice, injustice ... I maintain they are all driven by misdirected attempts by stupid human beings like you and me to get in a little living before we die.

Jesus is very clear when he states, "I came that they may have life and have it in abundance." But he is not talking about living large. He is talking about breathing, eating, drinking, sleeping and experiencing life in a way that renews and refreshes and makes us go to sleep at night thinking, "I can't wait for tomorrow."

Claiborne asks, "Would you still be a Christian if heaven and hell did not exist?" Hell yeah! (Sorry.) Yet I want to explore another idea. Just as faith is not fire insurance; not exclusively about what happens in the next world, neither is it a bottle of Valium; meant to constantly calm the storms of life.

I don't mean to imply that our faith will not keep us calm and peaceful among the storms, I just mean that we shouldn't hold up our faith as the anti-weather device.

"Just get me through today" is not living abundantly.

"Help me, some way, some how," is not living abundantly.

"Tell me when it's safe to come out of the cave" is not living abundantly.

That's surviving abundantly. I think Jesus had bigger ideas for our lives that merely surviving.

Dare we embrace the storms? The difficulties? This thought reminds me of the character Lt. Dan from Forrest Gump. In one scene, there is a terrific storm at sea and he is aboard one of the Bubba Gump Shrimp Boats, at the top of the crow's nest to be exact (remember he has returned from the Vietnam war with no legs). He is mad at God and as the storm rages, he laughs and shakes his fist and yells something like, "Come on old man, is that the best you can do?"

By the time the storm ends, Captain Dan has made peace with God; and not by "surviving" the storm, but by living abundantly in the midst of it.

I don't have any idea if this story really illustrates the point I'm trying to make here. All I know is that life happens, 24/7. That's what I tell the rehab ladies all the time. Life happens. Now what am I going to do with it? And even if life kicks your butt, you can just as easily sit there and say, "Wow, life is kicking my butt, how amazing is that!" as you can cry and bemoan it all, woe is me, woe is me, woe is me.

Think of George Bailey in the movie, It's a Wonderful Life. When shown what life would be like had he never been born (or ceased to exist), he decides living in the midst of all his troubles looks pretty exciting. When his life is "given back" to him, his lip begins to bleed, as one of the last things that happened before he "ceased" to exist is that he was punched in the mouth. Another character comments, "Hey George, your mouth is bleeding!" He tastes the blood and cries out triumphantly, "My mouth is bleeding! Well what do you know about that!"

In that moment, George Bailey is living abundantly.

I know people who live the philosophy that everything in life is to be embraced, acknowledging in every moment that God is beside you and has not abandoned you.

That is living abundantly, staying alert to God interacting with you through it all, and not just carrying you, carrying you, carrying you (although that is sometimes exactly what he is doing), but showing you that no matter what, you can choose and experience abundant life.

I think that's pretty darn cool. Abundantly cool. Life before death.

Ordinary radical

2009-12-30T08:33:00.002-06:00

Ordinary radical ... isn't that a lovely term? It is the self-proclaimed ID of author Shane Claiborne, who wrote the book I am now reading called The Irresistible Revolution. Like many of my books, it stayed in my book box for several months. It was loaned to me by my eldest daughter (who recently asked, did you ever read that book I gave you?). She bought it on the recommendation of our youth director (it is making the rounds).

I have only a snippet of comments as I have only consumed the intro and chapter 1 so far. Claiborne talks about his "journey" of faith from staunch conservative to Jesus freak to ordinary radical. I laughed out loud last night as I read, feeling such affinity with some of his statements.

One comment he slung toward "right wing conservative Christians" was his dismay that they seemed to feel so passionately about their faith, yet were satisfied with focusing 99% of their attention on morality. Don't get me wrong ... morality is important. But doesn't that smack just a bit of the pharisees? I can just see that group of men dragging that poor woman before Jesus and proclaiming, "We caught this woman in the very act of adultery. The Law says we are to stone such women. Now what do YOU say?" (emphasis added by me.)

Jesus sort of agreed, adding that the person who was without sin should throw the first stone. Then he starts writing something in the dirt. To this day, we don't know what, but apparently it caused everyone to drop their rocks and go home.

Claiborne is more concerned with the sins of poverty and oppression and prejudice and the like. Sure, you can look at it all and sigh, "Great, another bleeding heart activist with pie in the sky ideals." But Claiborne says he is following the very earth-shattering ministry of Jesus Christ. And you know what? He's right.

I'm thinking ... maybe it would be a good thing to fall in line with this ordinary radical.