Redeemed from Idleness

In the desert they gave in to their craving;

in the wasteland they put God to the test. 

So he gave them what they asked for,

but sent a wasting disease upon them. 

Psalm 106:14-15 (NIV)

They only cared about pleasing themselves in that desert,

provoked God with their insistent demands.

He gave them exactly what they asked for-

but along with it they got an empty heart. 

Psalm 106:14-15 (The Message)

I would not say I have been discontent.  To call the land and life I've been wandering through these last years a dry place would mean the manna had gone stale, heaped so high it could not be swallowed down in one day.  No, I have not been discontent in the green desert abroad.

I would say I have been idle.  Not lazy or without work, but idle in the truest sense of the word: undisciplined.  One year before we moved from Utah I stopped being consistent in meeting with God first thing in the morning.  My heart's beat gradually faded from the pounded out bass of "Good morning, Glory" to the muted strikes of an emptying heart.  

I was tired and lonely and simply poured out from ministry.  Three years of chasing the dream of community groups in our church, culminating in the first leadership training and one year's successes, and I was left wondering if anyone would call to be with me instead of my ministry.  It was in this place, looking down the long slope of the hill I had climbed too fast, I started avoiding God.  I walked past our conversation spots, averted my eyes and my heart from the face I treasure most, and filled our time with the many works to be done.  I became a busybody while I waited for my spirit to catch up to the high place I had summited.  How weary Martha's name is, the woman whose syndrome is marked by attending to needless things and missing the point.  "Lord, don't you care?" Luke 10:40  

I never want my gifts to take me further than my character can sustain me.  ~ Mark Batterson 

Idleness substitutes God's care with personal control and a busybody is born.  And control is no true God.  It can perform no mighty acts.  It cannot rescue a lost child or redeem moments that were his, re-gifted to another.  It does not save, even from messy relationships, but squares its shoulders against another's control and wages war.  Control masquerades as put together when in reality it forgets appointments, doesn't nurture friendships, demands perfection in all things, and hopes no one hears the howl behind the closed door.  Control thinks it owns time, unwieldy as a weapon, filled with life as a gift.  It leaves insistent demands on the lips and an emptiness of heart.

I have moved three times in the desert, wandering to the very edge of the Cross at times.  Three times in three years and He has finally brought me home from idleness and called me His Favored One.  I needed those years of wandering, loneliness turned to solitude, for my character to catch up with my gifts.  My character dropped a few pounds on the journey.  It left measures of pride, self-reliance, perfectionism, and control along the path.  And though I know everything mastered has a potential for back-sliding, at least I have good muscle memory now, in both my gifts and my character.

It is in remembering that we choose obedience.  

Merciful Lord, grant that my remembrance of your ways will lead me to a more trusting obedience, and grant that my obedience may improve my memory, so that I may not forget anything you have done for me or quarrel with any of your commands.  ~ Eugene Peterson, Praying with the Psalms, August 19

I feel more like myself than I ever have.  What a strange thing to say?  I have many things to keep me busy, Favored One.  Many good works to fill my days with.  But without the passionate pursuit of the One who fills my heart, I will simply be eating of the bread of idleness.  And idleness misses the point.  

Praise the LORD.

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good;

his love endures forever.

Psalm 106:1 (NIV)

...counting grace...

1542.  the gift of time

1543.  time for character to catch up with gifts

1544.  time for writing today

1545.  endurance

1546.  an abundance of favor

1547.  learning to receive gifts free from unworthiness

1548.  time for answered prayers

1549.  Mosaics for Him

1550.  time with my husband

1551.  time in my marriage for you to redeem things most precious

1552.  time for influencing my children

1553.  time for worship at NCC

1554.  time for fellowship and new beginnings in a homeschool group

1555.  time for work

1556. and 1557.

5 Minute Muses

It is raining today.

I am glad for that,

a soft, drumming reminder that I have been dry,

and the Lord satisfies the thirsty.

Some wandered in the desert wastelands,

finding no way to a city where

they could settle.

They were hungry and thirsty,

and their lives ebbed away.

Then they cried out to the LORD in 

their trouble,

and he delivered them from their

distress.

He led them by a straight way

to a city where they could settle.

Let them give thanks to the LORD 

for his unfailing love

and his wonderful deeds for men,

for he satisfies the thirsty

and fills the hungry with good things.  

Psalm 107:4-9

In two short weeks Ken will hand the squadron over to a new commander and we will say goodbye to this settled city of two years.  I am pondering the meaning of "settle" and just how long my vision is for a city we can settle in.  I don't think it's about buying a house or finding the right neighborhood.  I don't think I will be settled until I am finally home in the Lord.  I am grateful for this nomadic life, though I find myself whining about what I don't have at times.  Years-grown community.  Adults who have partnered with me to raise my children in God's ways.  Memories of food and celebration, baptisms and ballgames.

And I wonder if I would be any good at nurturing relationships?  I live with the freedom moving away every few years brings in leaving difficult relationships behind.  And I'm quite certain that is not freedom at all.

We have been filled with good things.

We have been hungry as well.

Isn't that a natural cycle?

Filling and emptying, 

filling and emptying.

I am grateful for enough days to have learned it is more about recognizing which I am speaking out of ~ fullness or emptiness, and the importance of words that will add to others instead of emptying them. 

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is 

good;

his love endures forever.

Let the redeemed of the LORD say

this -

those he redeemed from the hand of 

the foe,

those he gathered from the lands,

from east and west, from north and

south.  

Psalm 107:1-3

I thought you might get a chuckle out of my current desk.  It's either here, with the plastic patio chair, or at the coffee table seated on the sofa.  Either way I am bent over in posture.  

I think that's a good place to be these last two weeks,

as we look down the straight path with hunger,

towards the city of Washington DC and National Community Church, where we can settle for awhile.

I'll let you in on a little secret about me.

I'm somewhat of a nerd.  

Or whatever label you prefer for these attributes.

I am passionate about books.  Recently I have been teased that I frequently quote, not only the information, but source, title and author.  My friend who called me on it often says she thinks I'm making stuff up. 

And I love glasses.  Me, with 20/12 eyesight.  My husband just shakes his head.  I'm old enough now that reading my Bible without proper lighting makes my eyes tired.

I think they are a bit too strong, but I have my first pair of 1.0 reading glasses!  Yippee!  It's the little things in life, right?

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is
good;
his love endures forever.


...counting grace...
1459.  raining falling straight down
1460.  birds singing through it
1461.  time with Ken, to plan these next weeks
1462.  the gift of influence these last two years have brought
1463.  the responsibilities we were given
1464.  the opportunities to create lasting things
1465.  God's presence in all things
1466.  God's protection in all things
1467.  I need a new filling of the Holy Spirit
1468.  all I have to do is ask
1469.  resources to take care of what we need to
1470.  go-karting with the 86 MUNS spouses
1471.  laughing and sharing with them
1472.  sending gratitude jars to my parents
1473.  my dad's delight, over the phone, in reading through them
1474.  the opportunity to stress the importance of our Key Spouses
1475.  the visibility of those Key Spouses, and the support that will garner
1476.  talking with little ones, and the delight they bring
1477.  only two weeks left before we come home
1478.  being able to speak frankly with the new commander about families in our squadron
1479.  his love endures forever.

Walking Psalm 72:15-19

Long may he live!

May gold from Sheba be given 

him.

May people ever pray for him

and bless him all day long.

Let grain abound throughout the

land;

on the tops of the hills may it sway.

Let its fruit flourish like Lebanon;

let it thrive like the grass of the field.

May his name endure forever;

May it continue as long as the sun.

 All nations will be blessed through

him,

and they will call him blessed.

Praise be to the LORD God, the God of

Israel,

who alone does marvelous deeds.

 Praise be to his glorious name

forever;

may the whole earth be filled with

his glory.

Amen and Amen.

Psalm 72:15-19

From Eugene Peterson's Praying with the Psalms:May 31

The double "Amen" is the emphatic, positive conclusion to these prayers.  Amen is the Hebrew word for "yes," a yes that comes to its richest meaning in an affirmative response to God.  We say yes to the God who says yes to us in Jesus Christ. 

We try.

We try to capture His glory in print, and pixels, photos, and words.

We share the bits of glory we can see.  

But His glory is more than what we consume.  It is something we experience, we breathe in. 

It is what we live.  

We live His glory.  

There is evidence of it everywhere.

Go enjoy a glory walk today, Favored One.  May people ever pray for him and bless him all day long.

Amen and Amen.

"Praise ye the Lord!  O let all that is in me adore Him!  All that hath life and breath, come now with praises before Him!  Let the Amen sound from His people again: gladly for aye we adore Him."  

Joachim Neander, "Praise to the Lord, the Almighty"

 

 

Giving Thanks in Portugal

"Want to come to Portugal from March 14-17?"

Yes, please!  I mean, who wouldn't say yes to traveling to Portugal with little Bela to stay with her mama in the tiny, mountain village of Matela where she was born?  Especially if your round-trip ticket was Euro 47 and Bela's treat!

Aren't they sweet?

I'm drawn to places like this.  Places where work has wrung the flesh out, leaving lines and creases from labor and from love.  Places where community is birthed, lived, and buried side by side and the day gathers the widows to a common seat as the sun stretches to a close.

 1339.  Widows, wearing threads of black but clothed in the memory of love lived well, 

colored by the joy of friendship.

 1340.  A peaceful olive grove, with the sun casting shadows across the ground.

 1341.  Stacked stones to form a house wall, a puzzle to contemplate and piece together about exactly what I need to make a home for my family to thrive in.

 1342.  A home and a question.  Could I make a home out of a hovel?  Could I love ~ real~and hard~and long~and through~ and find that joy had slipped in through the cracks, those of the wall and those on my face, and that the most alive feeling I could have is in serving others?

 1343.  Oranges, picked fresh from the tree, delivering sweet refreshment in an arid land.

 1344.  Church bells, to announce the day, to call out the gathering, to sound the reminder that this moment was created for joy.

 1345.  Beauty sits on the front porch together ~ 50 years.  And she giggles, "My Lionel."

 1346.  A street now paved, centuries of shepherds walking goats and sheep together out to pasture ~ and the sun falls gently on each one.

 1347.  A morning already gathered, me still in my pajamas, and the smile of one who knows that we remember best the fruit of labor, and treasure most the moments of rest because of it.

 1348.  The beauty of laughter and conversation in a language unknown but communicated, while we wait for the morning's fresh bread.
1349.  Fresh goat cheese beneath the drapes, walked from her main street home for the village visitors ~ an offering again of what it means to receive radical hospitality.

 1349.  Gathering and harvesting ~ letting nothing go to waste, not the produce, not the old people.

1350.  Mae's final lunch feast ~ that six ingredients could be stewed and boiled, sautéed and salted to leave me having dined as a queen.

1351.  Many faces to reflect on ~ theirs and mine.


Bless the LORD, O my soul: O LORD my God, how excellent is your greatness!  You are clothed with majesty and splendor.
You water the mountains from your dwelling on high:  the earth is fully satisfied by the fruit of your works.
You make grass grow for flocks and herds:  and plants to serve mankind;
that they may bring forth food from the earth:
and wine to gladden our hearts, oil to make a cheerful countenance:
and bread to strengthen the heart.
Psalm 104:1,13-16 NIV


May your day be filled with His splendor and quiet with His peace, Favored One.


Love you!

Doors

I have been avoiding this blog.

I haven't been able to capture words and fix them to the page these last few weeks.

And what makes this more challenging is that I always write in one sitting.  Today's has been piece-mealed throughout the last few days.

My son flew through the doorway to manhood.  

Yes, you know already.

And though I celebrate this passage,

there have been moments ~

 I have felt the rush of wind,

 heard the resounding boom in my ears,

and been startled out of blindsight of the 

minutia mess of relationships

~the daily grind towards raising up love.

Moments when it seems the door to his childhood closed with an abrupt slam 

and I feel cheated out of the gradual closing of a door.  

And I've thought really, who wants to hear about that?  

And why now, when I have so many things to say, can I not find my voice to write?

Pages of journaling, gratitude counting, and me ~ needing to resist the urge to break the silence fast by trying to share with you in one meal all of the bread of communion 

I've been fed these last few weeks.

Who will read these words and see between the lines to the truth I know?

That moments of grief always come when one door closes and another opens, 

no matter the size of the door.

That I rejoice he has flown through and celebrate 

that he is discovering more of who he was created to be.

That the hinges of my heart's door are well-oiled,

and lovingly maintained,

so that the Lord may enter in with the softest of knocking.

And this time, it closed behind Him in silence.

My soul has been grateful to be quiet with Him.

I am well.

These are Katie Luther's doors.  She found it essential to carve (literally) a space out for communing with her husband, Martin Luther.  I wonder if these seats bear witness to the silence of communion as much as the speech of it?  Between Martin Luther's roles as professor and pastor
 (oh, and Father of the Reformation) and Katharina's roles as his wife ~
*administering and managing the vast holdings of the monastery
*breeding and selling cattle
*running a brewery
*caring for students who boarded with them
*operating a hospital on site
*and bearing six children in eight years
~I wonder how often these two shared seats of silence, treating words as delicacies to be savored, instead filling up on the quiet respite of each other's company.


I love these doors.


I love that the seats of communion are carved out of stone.
I love that creating a space for time is an intentional act.
I love that these seats are placed on either side of the door ~
 a visible reminder that to face doors, cross their thresholds, or have them close in your face, 
you will need Him.  
Always need Him.
 And more than you think and more than you remember.


I love these doors.

I have clung to this door these past few weeks ~
Come to my help, O God;
Lord, hurry to my rescue.
Psalm 70:1
To cling is not always to announce despair.
Silence can be infused with joy, as suffering pours out to leave empty spaces for His filling.
Come to my help, O God
~that I may always keep you in my mind
Lord, hurry to my rescue
~that I may cry to you in the face of any danger
Come to my help, O God
~that I may confess I am frail
Lord, hurry to my rescue
~that I may watch for you as I wrestle with fears and failures
Come to my help, O God
~that I am assured you hear me
Lord, hurry to my rescue
~that I am confidant Your help is ever present
Come to my help, O God;
Lord, hurry to my rescue.
For You are my Only Hope.

Favored One, may you know the sweetness of the feast of silence at His table.

Counting on with Grace...

1271.  a noisy dinner, with 86 MUNS spouses enjoying each other's company

1272.  the second-hand, reminding me that each second of my life is a precious gift to be guarded as treasure

1273.  vanilla-Rooibus teas

...

1276.  a four-hour dinner with Gayle, reminding me how restorative it is to be with women

1277.  refusing to allow the voices of the church to shame me

1278.  looking forward to the voices of brothers and sisters to rebuke me and lovingly hold me accountable

1279.  a sadness that our Lenten fast did not run the course I had hoped

1280.  a gratitude, that often times I feel an obedience in emotion or will to You that is less about action and more about being still

1281.  sensing that stillness is all about the maturing You alone have done in me through Christ

1282.  pondering - could this be peering through the crack in the door in understanding better about coming to You like a child?  In simplicity and trust, learning to trust the feelings that I have previously labeled as always fickle, unreliable and dangerous.  Could it be that feelings are not a by-product of sin but intentionally knit us together, spun strong by the Father's hands?

1283.  grateful we recognize each other best through emotions we share, not intellect, not talents, but emotions

1284.  recognizing that if emotions are our strongest connective fibers, then they will also be most easily stretched, snipped, frayed, worn.

...

1286.  my husband waits patiently for his turn

1287.  I love to write