Life is Breaking Out

Here we are on the precipice of tomorrow. The start of a new year. The night we look behind to all that has been and the celebration of all that is to come. We mourn. We celebrate. We wonder. The season of Epiphany is approaching. The child has been born, the Son has been given. The gifts are arriving. The hope is growing. Can it be true? Is there one who can save us? One who can help make sense of our little worlds and our not so little battles, disappointments, misunderstandings, fears, confusions, betrayals and broken dreams? Is there one who can hold all these little worlds ‘in the palm of His hand?’

I recently finished a book by Jeff Imbach called The Recovery of Love. He unpacks four Christian mystics of the 14^th century, sharing their stories and their lives - their little worlds. In his last few pages reflecting on Dante’s The Divine Comedy, Imbach challenges his readers on their passions and desires, their deep-seated hopes and dreams; their longings. He dares to say that there is a healthy, divine, sacred way to embrace our longings. A way that leads to transformation. Is there one who can save us? Is freedom possible?

Hear some words from Imbach, “Passion is, in it’s essence, the bubbling up of Divine Love at the centre of our being…accepting the passion unconditionally faces one with the reality of choice…choice becomes a real possibility when longing is accepted and fulfillment is celebrated but not demanded. This is the place of freedom, the place where ‘all things are yours.’”

What are you and I longing for? What passion is waiting to break out? What life, healing, longing, hope, dream, desire, ache, or gift is on the precipice? Is it possible to hold it with an open hand? To celebrate the potential but not demand it? To acknowledge the goodness, the sweetness, the opportunity and yet not crush it?

One of my favorite podcasts is from Relevant magazine. They introduced their ‘Best of 2012’ podcast this week with a song from Gungor called ‘Dry Bones.’ I offer these lyrics as a reflection on the Christmas season that has passed and all the epiphanies of the New Year that are to come. Is there one who can save us?

Here’s a YouTube link if you’d like to listen while reading: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJWHZnZ9E6k

My soul cries out

My soul cries out for you

These bones cry out

These dry bones cry for you

To live and move

'Cause only You can raise the dead

Can lift my head up

Jesus, You're the one who saves us

Constantly creates us into something new

Jesus, surely you will find us

Surely our Messiah will make all things new

Will make all things new

Life is breaking out, it's breaking out

Life is breaking out, it's breaking out, it's breaking out

Short Commentary on Dance, Life and Love

“Dance is the hidden language of the soul” – Martha Graham.

So, it’s official, I am addicted to partner dancing. Once I got settled into my new home in Okotoks, I decided to make a choice between a course in self-defense kick-boxing or Latin partner dance. Talk about choosing a path previously less traveled and having it make ‘all the difference!’ I’m starting to think my hips might be more dangerous than the high knee kicks would have been!

What fun! What joyous delight! First off – the growing confidence I am finding to walk into a large group of strangers and attempt to learn something absolutely brand-new and foreign to me. To just take a risk and give a try – we are capable of more than we think we are! That’s the theory that took me around the world years ago to hang with Mother Teresa’s sisters on the streets of Calcutta, India. It’s what landed me in England for a year writing a Master’s that I thought was way beyond me. It’s what caused me to take up an apron and join a team at a little bible camp with a vision, and yes, it’s what’s causing me to find cute dancing shoes and train lower back muscles!

Author Richard Rohr shares a mantra of how in life; somehow, with the trust and love of God - ’everything belongs.’ It just so happens that as I embark on these dance classes, I am also embarking on a course I’ve mentioned before called “Living From the Heart” which delves into contemplative Christian spirituality. I’ve written about the great, mysterious, cosmic, all-consuming Dance before, the one all of humanity is invited to enter into with the Triune God of Love, but boy…it’s one thing to write about it and another thing to experience it.

There is an overlap between the physicality of learning dance and what I'm labelling the ‘active passivity’ of experiencing Love, even in the midst of uncertain times and while holding ‘with an open hand’ the lives and experiences of others. I am bolding declaring to be a living witness to Rohr’s mantra, ‘everything belongs.’ I testify! I celebrate! I am grateful!

As I continue the journey of discovering what’s around my next vocational and relational corners (Oh yes, I’m on the market in more ways than one – and I’m still open to leads) and as I continue the Dance, I offer these words from Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel. I would welcome your comments and thoughts. Peace.

“God is not always silent, and man is not always blind. In every man’s life there are moments when there is a lifting of the veil at the horizon of the known, opening a sight of the eternal. Each of us has at least once in his life experienced the momentous reality of God. Each of us has once caught a glimpse of the beauty, peace, and power that flow through the souls of those who are devoted to Him. But such experiences are rare events. To some people they are like shooting stars, passing and unremembered. In others they kindle a light that is never quenched. The remembrance of that experience and the loyalty to the response of that moment are the forces that sustain our faith.”

What once was LOST now is FOUND

I am in the few mere days leading up to my first ‘Living From the Heart’ class, being presented by Soul Streams and hosted this weekend at King’s Fold Retreat Centre. I am greatly looking forward to reacquainting myself with a place that I have fond memories of and great expectations for ‘meeting with God.’

The required readings involve delving into some intense conversation about ‘surrendering to the love of God.’ Concrete and profound images of the love of God are sometimes hard to find in my daily life and so I have been pleasantly (if not brokenly) accosted by two personified images that both come from a dear child in my life, my little almost two-year old niece, Norah. Both happened in the span of a few hours this past Saturday, as our family celebrated the birthday of her mom.

Upon arrival to my new home in Okotoks, Norah ran across the street towards me as soon as her little feet hit the ground out of the family van. She was running literally ‘head-first,’ leaning forward at the risk of falling and tripping in her eagerness to get to me and my waiting arms. Her arms were open, her smile was bright, her little pigtails were bobbing and the utter delight and abandon that accompanied this great reception did not go unnoticed by her parents or myself. She was absolutely convinced of my acceptance of her. She was totally confident of my ability to catch her as she flung herself into my arms. She was utterly selfless in her affection for me.

Of all the times I’ve reflected on and pondered the story Jesus tells of the prodigal son and his faithful father, this was maybe the first time the roles of the two converged in my own life. In Norah I saw the faithful and abiding love of the father and the desperately seeking and hopeful posture of the son. I felt the abandon and absolute ‘surrender to love’ that erases all fear and showers unconditional acceptance upon the receiver. I was loved. She was love and beloved.

After a time of fun and food, her mom and I remained in the home to prepare dessert, while the rest of the family, including six kids, left for the playground, across the same street Norah had previously traversed. They enjoyed their visit involving swing sets and monkey bars and safely returned to the home. Well, almost all of them. A brief moment later it was discovered that Norah was missing. Absolute desperation gripped me. Norah was missing. She wasn’t where she belonged. 

I flew up the stairs to the yard. I ran through the gate. I had a fleeting thought of the dessert chocolate potentially burning on the stove. ‘Damn the chocolate’ was my noble thought. ‘Heaven help us’ was my prayer. As I turned the corner, I saw a group of adults across the street; they were my intended destination. Instead, as I turned the corner, here was Norah at the front door, coming down the steps with a kind, brilliantly blonde teenage girl at her side. My run slowed to a walk, now was not the time for dramatics. I lifted up this little girl and the little doll she was dragging beside her. She melted into my shoulder. I asked the teenage girl, Nicole, for the story and offered my deepest thanks, I must have asked for her name a dozen times. I couldn’t stop looking at her brilliant blonde hair, slightly angelic if you ask me. I then returned to my home to give Norah back to her mom and dad and pass the story along. What once was lost now was found.   

Again, it was a time of rediscovering the depth and character of divine love as revealed in another of Jesus’ stories. This time, the story of the shepherd that has the ninety-nine sheep on the hills and goes looking for the lost one. There is just no other option. I get it now. Of course the shepherd couldn’t do anything except go; and go quickly and fervently. And with absolute abandon. Not with disregard for anyone else. Just as my care for the remaining family in the home did not decrease, it was the desire for the lost one that increased. Rapidly. Exponentially. Because this was the one that was not safe, was not found. I literally knew I would not stop until she was found. I would give all to find her. I would hunt, ask for help, look like a fool and beg the God above until she was back where she belonged. And then the celebrating could begin.

What once was lost now was found. And I am slowly discovering this love that is spoken of and given by Jesus. Not just in a story. But in our ordinary, everyday lives. Maybe even today.  

(Stories and photo used with permission from Norah’s parents)

Saying Hello and Goodbye

John Ortberg ruined me the day he wrote the title of his book ‘If You Want To Walk On Water, You’ve Got To Get Out Of The Boat.’ I first encountered this quick read when I took one of my (at the time) bi-annual visits to King’s Fold Retreat Centre for a solitary fasting retreat back in 2002. I was home from my travels in India, supporting a delightful lady with disabilities in her home and starting my first leadership experience with the Alpha course. There was possibility in the air and a deep desire to be used, to be found faithful and to experience something beyond the norm – basically I wanted to know and be know by the Divine – the Other-Than, the Great-Than. 

So. I took Ortberg’s challenge to pray for one particular thing every day for 6 months and see what happened. In his book, he said he would refund your money if you prayed for 6 months about one particular thing and nothing happened. He said to write him and tell him what happened and if nothing happened, watch in the mail. SO. I prayed. And 6 months later I wrote him a letter of the profound experiences and generous delights the Lord gave during that 6 month season – no refund on the book for me!

I’m no sailor or fisherman, nor do I have the remote chance of maintaining balance in a precarious boat. But I do know what it’s like to get out of one…to be acknowledged by name by The One Who Loves Fully, to be challenged to faith and not fear and….yet, to fall into the deep waters of divided, anxious focus only to be grabbed and saved and restored.

I kinda thought that once I got out of the boat I’d never get back in or that once I was out, I was out – walking, dancing and floating on the waters of faith with my sweet Lord would be my good fortune and forecast. Perhaps the getting out of the boat is only the beginning of what C.S. Lewis writes as ‘the farther up and further in’ of the kingdom –the first chapter a mere glimpse, taste, suggestion of what is to come.

SO – all that to say that – there is certainly more to come in my little life. My next wee step ‘farther up and further in’ is to pursue my long-time dream for doctoral studies – to continue the passion for researching the hospitality and service of Jesus and to find venues to share this research. To say hello to this dream means to say goodbye to another. I’m ok with this…I think. Transition takes time and involves the grieving of one thing in order to fully embrace another. And yet – I sense it is all one and the same dream really. This clinging to the cross, this longing for the divine, this sharing of life, is found in every context I am located in – physically and relationally; emotionally and spiritually.

Today’s coordinates are a ragamuffin camping experience on the edge of a river valley. Tomorrow’s coordinates are yet to be determined…there’s just one direction I know for sure. It’s the direction that takes me out of the boat…yet again. Lord have mercy. 

A Word Timely Given

What captures my heart these days?

What motivates my hopes, what dispels my fears, challenges my wrongdoings, encourages my convictions, interprets my circumstances, redeems missed opportunities, brings new mercies every morning and creates humble reverence IN those mornings?

Driving home last night from a lovely family gathering, I chanced upon a short little podcast I had downloaded from my time in Phoenix last month, that I had yet to listen to. It was a short ‘preach’ given to the student leaders of a conference held last year in the States called The Passion. The topic was on the memorizing of scripture, by a preacher and author well known by many, John Piper. I can’t say I’m entirely sure I land where he does on all thoughts about life, relationships and the church today; but his 65-year-old voice as it came over the speakers in my little Chevy Optra was soft, kind, passionate and compelling.

He mentioned that he was speaking with no manuscript, (which is apparently uncharacteristic for him) save for a few heading titles. He told stories, he offered resources, but mostly he quoted scriptures. Pockets of old and new, epistles and songs, from Samuel to Jesus to Paul. All from memory, all in an oratory style reminiscent for me of those long dramatic monologues I learned in English 10 or Drama 20 or first year college courses.

The memory that haunts him over 30 years in pastoral ministry was the first hospital visit he undertook as a 34-year-old greenhorn, to a family who was losing their mother. He forgot his bible. The family asked for ‘a word.’ “Give us a word Pastor.” His mind went blank. He held their gazes, awkwardly, self-consciously, then bowed; mumbled a prayer, offered condolences and left. And resolved. Resolved to never again be without ‘a word.’

My memory goes to a little grade 6 girls Sunday school class that my friend and I taught years ago. We weren’t sure what we were doing – but we were passionate and sincere and desperate. Desperate enough to seek out some disciplines to teach and that was how I came to learn Psalm 91 with 20 grade 6 girls, making up a melody with limited chords on a borrowed guitar, (which is apparently uncharacteristic for me) changing pronouns to suit the context – “SHE who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”

This Psalm then took my friend and I to Calcutta, India and back again. To workplaces and relationships, to painful circumstances and joyful mountaintops.

What captures my heart these days?

Dare I attempt to explain this longing and life of and in the Spirit through the WORD of the Spirit? Even the memorized word?

Suffice it to say that Piper’s ‘preach’ was a word timely given.

“Because she loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue her; I will protect her because she acknowledges my name. She will call upon me, and I will answer her; I will be with her in trouble, I will deliver her and honor her. With long life will I satisfy her and show her my salvation.” Psalm 91: 14-16

In The Desert

So, I find myself in the desert. In relative solitude. It's hard to get really, totally alone these days. Even in the desert you find companions (see sign I found while hiking!) While I ponder, read and write down here in Phoenix, I am finding music a great companion, the neighbours dog, and some weird busy birds that just won't leave the bushes behind me. Oh, and have I mentioned I'm staying in a retirement village with some very active seniors?

So I am in a desert and I have found one more companion for the experience. It is Psalm 63 of David, when he was in a desert. I've landed on this one and I just can't quite shake it.

It's words are disturbing me.

It's imagery is haunting me.

It's depths are calling to me.

And I pray it's changing me.

Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy.

"O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water.

I have seen you in the sanctuary and beheld your power and your glory. Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you.

On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night. Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. I stay close to you; your right hand upholds me.

They who seek my life will be destroyed; they will go down to the depths of the earth. They will be given over to the sword and become food for jackals.

But the king will rejoice in God; all who swear by God's name will praise him, while the mouths of liars will be silenced."

What Are We Waiting For?

On this, the cusp of my 36^th birthday, I woke up with a Trans-Siberian Orchestra song in my head.

Now, if you know me well at all, you will know that my musical tastes are all over the map, that I can rarely distinguish an artist or a song title, and that quite often I can’t even tell you that I own a particular song or album, just that it’s ‘what’s his face’ or you know, ‘that band.’

So the fact that I had the lyric ‘on this night, on this very Christmas night’ running through my head AND that I knew it was Trans-Siberian Orchestra was a huge WIN for me this morning.

With the help of Google and iTunes, I now own the song and have the lyrics to “Christmas Canon.”

This night we pray our lives will show

This dream we had each child still knows

We are waiting

We have not forgotten

On this night

On this night

On this very Christmas night

If you’re looking for an interesting alternative to your standard Christmas music this season, I recommend downloading a few of their songs – perhaps this one in particular.

As I reflect on this past year of life, the goals that have been accomplished, the dreams realized, I’m somewhat painfully aware that there are a few things I’m still waiting for. And just for the record, they may be pretty selfish things.

Thank you Jesus for reminding me today (again) of what’s worth waiting for.

In this advent season, on this night, on this very Christmas night, we are waiting… we are waiting for a savior, for the Christ-child to be born, for the impossible to be real, for the angel’s proclamation to be echoed throughout our lives.

What are we waiting for? Emmanuel, God with us.

Waiting for justice, waiting for wrongs to be righted, waiting for…

One of our retired volunteers out here at camp has a little girl in her life without half her face. She has doctors attempting to get the cancer out of her body by cutting off her nose and cheek. She’s waiting for healing or at the very least an extra year or two on her young life.

There are little kids, little babies, right here in our neighbourhoods, waiting for foster homes and adoption, whose parents waiting for help and relief and hope.

There are countries and communities waiting for peace, for cease-fire, for the absence of anger, strife and fear.

I know of families waiting for reconciliation, for new beginnings and a second chance.

I hear of grieving spouses waiting for the pain of loss to lessen, wondering if it ever will, and if it does, what does that mean.

I hang out with young friends; discerning career and family decisions, waiting for the right time for making changes, uncertain about their choices - how far to risk, how big to dream.

We’re all waiting for something I suppose, even if we have a hard time articulating it?

Today I hold the tension between the already and the not yet. We are waiting, we have not forgotten…and we will keep waiting – and I do pray that our lives will show that this waiting has not been in vain.

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned….for to us a child is born, to us a son is given…and he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9)

Come Lord Jesus come. We are waiting. We have not forgotten!