Yes, yes, I have disappeared for several months, but I return to point you in the direction of the one who has captured my heart. May you enjoy the musings of Mr. Jason Davis as much as I do.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
i return to grant you a morsel...
Yes, yes, I have disappeared for several months, but I return to point you in the direction of the one who has captured my heart. May you enjoy the musings of Mr. Jason Davis as much as I do.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
friendship
I spent last night with an absolutely amazing set of people. As we talked, joked and laughed until we cried, I couldn't help but think about what it means to be "friends." I've been thinking about that a lot lately. I think I am coming to understand more and more the responsibility of the dynamic we call "friendship."
The more life I live and the more people I meet, I come into a deeper understanding of the impact one human life has on another. I would dare to say that, far too often, we fail to recognize the responsibility we have for how our life impacts the people placed in our world. A person may walk into our world for just a small window of time, but even then, it is a life- a relationship on some level- to be valued. Or maybe it is someone that has been around for so long, we take it for granted. This is nothing profound or new. It's just a pattern of thought that I've been having over the last several days about the value of people. To be a friend is to take stock in the heart and soul of another person, even when it's uncomfortable, and especially when it's hard.
PEOPLE MATTER MORE THAN OUR FEELINGS, MORE THAN OUR PLANS, AND MORE THAN OUR FEARS.
When we forget that, we hurt the very people that have been placed in our lives by God for a very specific purpose. Thank you to those of you who encourage me to be a better friend, and to those who model what a good friend is. Your lives are invaluable.
The more life I live and the more people I meet, I come into a deeper understanding of the impact one human life has on another. I would dare to say that, far too often, we fail to recognize the responsibility we have for how our life impacts the people placed in our world. A person may walk into our world for just a small window of time, but even then, it is a life- a relationship on some level- to be valued. Or maybe it is someone that has been around for so long, we take it for granted. This is nothing profound or new. It's just a pattern of thought that I've been having over the last several days about the value of people. To be a friend is to take stock in the heart and soul of another person, even when it's uncomfortable, and especially when it's hard.PEOPLE MATTER MORE THAN OUR FEELINGS, MORE THAN OUR PLANS, AND MORE THAN OUR FEARS.
When we forget that, we hurt the very people that have been placed in our lives by God for a very specific purpose. Thank you to those of you who encourage me to be a better friend, and to those who model what a good friend is. Your lives are invaluable.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
just feel it
One thing I have learned in the past several years is that I am doing myself and others a disservice when I pray against hardship. Someone somewhere got the idea in their head that hard equals bad, and pain equals doom. A friend is suffering a terrible loss, so we pray she would feel no pain. A small group member goes under financially, so we pray he has enough “faith” to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Or maybe it’s the co-worker we pray for whose child ran off, or the family member who is depressed. When we pray for someone’s feelings to change, what is it we’re really asking? Perhaps we’re asking God to make it better so that we don’t have to worry about what to say to our friend in the midst of the dark cloud that makes us so uneasy.
Call me backwards, but I would like to suggest that devastating emotions, which are certain to accompany crisis or distress in our lives, are one pathway through which personal and spiritual development occurs. Just as remission from cancer does not take place until each cancerous cell has been discovered and then removed or eliminated, growth in the face of despair and extreme change cannot take place until the depths of one’s circumstances are laid bare. These dark nights of the soul are more likely to inform us of the deepest parts of our existence than times of comfort and peace. The concept of choices (and our responsibility for the ones we make) gains new meaning. Dark times allow us to see things which might ordinarily go unnoticed, developing a more keen sense of meaning and awareness. Growth emerges as a result of what we do with this ensuing insight.
This notion of growth amid darkness is not new, but frequently bypassed. It is in the descent of human pain and uncertainty that individuals discover who they are, what they want, what they value, and where they wish to go. The doorway to the spiritual is opened; deeper meaning is sought after. Many, however, step through this door of the spiritual expecting to find glowing, gentle relief on the other side, and what they find instead is a journey into the depths of their calamity. Painful as it may be, it is on this journey that the seeds of faith are planted, and a deep revelation of what our life is about takes place. Healing and growth occur, not by patching up open wounds, but by revealing them, exposing them to the cleansing that only darkness can bring. Here, the relationship between the darkness of crisis and the illumination of spirituality is fashioned.
Personal futility is exposed on this journey from the plights of crisis to the depths of our soul, hastening an appeal to a deeper source of vitality and understanding than exists in ourselves. Answers conceivable with the human mind alone no longer suffice. The hope of Christ is an opportunity for transformation when the core of our being is on the line. This opportunity is accepted as part of a realization that we are limited in the human capacity to understand, reason, or conquer the unacceptable conditions of life in this futile world. We are beings made for another purpose. This act of yielding ourselves, especially when it is unseen in the natural realm, entirely challenges the way the humankind today is told to solve problems. Ideas of gaining control, organizing interventions, and task implementation permeate the modern mindset of how to handle crisis, which cause friction with this idea of surrender. This is not a fatalistic stance, but rather a constructive aspect of admitting personal limitation and divine order. It is what we were created for.
In spiritual surrender, we are submitting to the Divine and being entirely transformed as a result. The ideas of surrender and transformation are not to be confused with defeat, but instead are an expansion of the self in truest form. We encounter something larger, deeper, and more intense than ourselves. By engaging in this process, a new perspective of life and self is found—Truth.
Call me backwards, but I would like to suggest that devastating emotions, which are certain to accompany crisis or distress in our lives, are one pathway through which personal and spiritual development occurs. Just as remission from cancer does not take place until each cancerous cell has been discovered and then removed or eliminated, growth in the face of despair and extreme change cannot take place until the depths of one’s circumstances are laid bare. These dark nights of the soul are more likely to inform us of the deepest parts of our existence than times of comfort and peace. The concept of choices (and our responsibility for the ones we make) gains new meaning. Dark times allow us to see things which might ordinarily go unnoticed, developing a more keen sense of meaning and awareness. Growth emerges as a result of what we do with this ensuing insight.
This notion of growth amid darkness is not new, but frequently bypassed. It is in the descent of human pain and uncertainty that individuals discover who they are, what they want, what they value, and where they wish to go. The doorway to the spiritual is opened; deeper meaning is sought after. Many, however, step through this door of the spiritual expecting to find glowing, gentle relief on the other side, and what they find instead is a journey into the depths of their calamity. Painful as it may be, it is on this journey that the seeds of faith are planted, and a deep revelation of what our life is about takes place. Healing and growth occur, not by patching up open wounds, but by revealing them, exposing them to the cleansing that only darkness can bring. Here, the relationship between the darkness of crisis and the illumination of spirituality is fashioned.
Personal futility is exposed on this journey from the plights of crisis to the depths of our soul, hastening an appeal to a deeper source of vitality and understanding than exists in ourselves. Answers conceivable with the human mind alone no longer suffice. The hope of Christ is an opportunity for transformation when the core of our being is on the line. This opportunity is accepted as part of a realization that we are limited in the human capacity to understand, reason, or conquer the unacceptable conditions of life in this futile world. We are beings made for another purpose. This act of yielding ourselves, especially when it is unseen in the natural realm, entirely challenges the way the humankind today is told to solve problems. Ideas of gaining control, organizing interventions, and task implementation permeate the modern mindset of how to handle crisis, which cause friction with this idea of surrender. This is not a fatalistic stance, but rather a constructive aspect of admitting personal limitation and divine order. It is what we were created for.
In spiritual surrender, we are submitting to the Divine and being entirely transformed as a result. The ideas of surrender and transformation are not to be confused with defeat, but instead are an expansion of the self in truest form. We encounter something larger, deeper, and more intense than ourselves. By engaging in this process, a new perspective of life and self is found—Truth.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Monday, April 09, 2007
keeping up with Easter
After all of the usual fun and discovery of easter eggs and easter baskets on Sunday morning, my sister and brother-in-law sat down with their boys to talk with them about the reason we celebrate Easter in the first place. After a lesson on biblical history, the family loaded up and headed to church to worship and celebrate our risen Lord.
I can just imagine the boys chattering all the way to church about their new Easter baskets and the candy and treats the Easter Bunny kindly left for them while they were sleeping… but that wasn’t the topic of conversation in children’s church yesterday. The candy and treats were left at the door as five year-old Clayton marched in and announced to his classmates:
“All of you kids who don’t know about the REAL Easter, come and sit down. I’m gonna tell you!” Walking them through the story point by preciously memorized point, he finished by telling all of his eager listeners “...so you kids need to keep up with Easter, because you don’t want to go with the Devil—when you die you want to go to heaven with Jesus.”
He may very well have acknowledged the true meaning of Easter more than many of us, and he still has candy and presents to be excited about. I think it’s beautiful, and it sure does make me want to “keep up with [the real] Easter.”
I can just imagine the boys chattering all the way to church about their new Easter baskets and the candy and treats the Easter Bunny kindly left for them while they were sleeping… but that wasn’t the topic of conversation in children’s church yesterday. The candy and treats were left at the door as five year-old Clayton marched in and announced to his classmates:
“All of you kids who don’t know about the REAL Easter, come and sit down. I’m gonna tell you!” Walking them through the story point by preciously memorized point, he finished by telling all of his eager listeners “...so you kids need to keep up with Easter, because you don’t want to go with the Devil—when you die you want to go to heaven with Jesus.”He may very well have acknowledged the true meaning of Easter more than many of us, and he still has candy and presents to be excited about. I think it’s beautiful, and it sure does make me want to “keep up with [the real] Easter.”
Thursday, March 22, 2007
waiting
Sometimes we get stuck in this self-defeating mindset of “waiting around.” All we can think about is how we’re waiting for God to do this, waiting for God to do that… waiting, waiting, waiting… poor pitiful us.
I certainly don’t think waiting is always a bad thing. In fact, I would call it a skill, even a discipline. But it is only such when our hearts are expectant of God’s move. Wait in misery, and we find ourselves doubting that God will ever show his face. But wait in faith, and there is hope. I’m a firm believer in the concept “You can’t walk in hope if you’re thinking in defeat.”
When I read Isaiah 30:18 today, I realized we’re not the only ones waiting… God waits too.
God's not finished. He's waiting around to be gracious to you. He's gathering strength to show mercy to you. God takes the time to do everything right—everything. Those who wait around for him are the lucky ones. (The Message)
God is not afraid of waiting. He’s not afraid to take his time. And he is certainly ok with waiting on us if it means we will eventually see his face.
What good news. He was waiting on me long before I was ever waiting on Him. If I’m worth waiting on, so is He.
I certainly don’t think waiting is always a bad thing. In fact, I would call it a skill, even a discipline. But it is only such when our hearts are expectant of God’s move. Wait in misery, and we find ourselves doubting that God will ever show his face. But wait in faith, and there is hope. I’m a firm believer in the concept “You can’t walk in hope if you’re thinking in defeat.”
When I read Isaiah 30:18 today, I realized we’re not the only ones waiting… God waits too.
God's not finished. He's waiting around to be gracious to you. He's gathering strength to show mercy to you. God takes the time to do everything right—everything. Those who wait around for him are the lucky ones. (The Message)
God is not afraid of waiting. He’s not afraid to take his time. And he is certainly ok with waiting on us if it means we will eventually see his face.
What good news. He was waiting on me long before I was ever waiting on Him. If I’m worth waiting on, so is He.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
the treasure in jars of clay
“Betsy, you’re like a cracked pot, and if you don’t take care of the cracks, everything inside of you is going to come spilling out onto the people around you!”
With those words, I was being admonished by a woman—a pastor, in fact—for my apparent vulnerabilities just after having opened my eyes to the deepest betrayal I’ve ever experienced. My heart was torn wide open and ripped apart, my spirit was crushed, and I was being told to pick it all up and stuff it back down into the urn of my soul. The nerve of me—I was making a mess!
Guilt set in immediately. Someone had noticed. I was flawed. I was weak. And this woman was right: Not only was I a cracked pot, I had flat out shattered. There I was, a person who had made a career out of “holding it all together,” now in pieces on the floor. So now, not only was I fielding the pain of betrayal and grief, I was also ridden with disappointment in myself.
The Lord brought that day from years ago to my mind recently as I was praying, and I got to thinking about why it is that we’re so afraid to be broken and petrified of being flawed. Why is it that often it is felt so true that we should not be exposing our weakness, our fragility, to anyone? What are we afraid might come “spilling out?” I think we fear sometimes that the things that eat away at our hearts—fear, loneliness, unmet expectations, disappointments in ourselves and others—will be exposed. In shame, we keep them sealed away for no one to see, and quickly mend any cracks in the vessel of our soul. We become tightly sealed jars.
But I don’t think that’s how God meant for us to live. We all have cracks. We all have moments of weakness, hurts, and flaws. I realize every day just how cracked truly I am. But I have come to realize that my fractures as a person create a space for the love and grace of God to seep out of me and into the lives of others. I am a broken vessel—with weakness, vulnerability, and faults—but that brokenness creates a tiny crevice through which the Holy Spirit can operate. It is only then that Christ is powerfully revealed as a "treasure in jars of clay" (2 Corinthians 4).
Outwardly, I am nothing, but it is God who is at work inside of me… and it is Christ that I want others to see—not a flawless cistern.
”My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26
With those words, I was being admonished by a woman—a pastor, in fact—for my apparent vulnerabilities just after having opened my eyes to the deepest betrayal I’ve ever experienced. My heart was torn wide open and ripped apart, my spirit was crushed, and I was being told to pick it all up and stuff it back down into the urn of my soul. The nerve of me—I was making a mess!
Guilt set in immediately. Someone had noticed. I was flawed. I was weak. And this woman was right: Not only was I a cracked pot, I had flat out shattered. There I was, a person who had made a career out of “holding it all together,” now in pieces on the floor. So now, not only was I fielding the pain of betrayal and grief, I was also ridden with disappointment in myself.
The Lord brought that day from years ago to my mind recently as I was praying, and I got to thinking about why it is that we’re so afraid to be broken and petrified of being flawed. Why is it that often it is felt so true that we should not be exposing our weakness, our fragility, to anyone? What are we afraid might come “spilling out?” I think we fear sometimes that the things that eat away at our hearts—fear, loneliness, unmet expectations, disappointments in ourselves and others—will be exposed. In shame, we keep them sealed away for no one to see, and quickly mend any cracks in the vessel of our soul. We become tightly sealed jars.
But I don’t think that’s how God meant for us to live. We all have cracks. We all have moments of weakness, hurts, and flaws. I realize every day just how cracked truly I am. But I have come to realize that my fractures as a person create a space for the love and grace of God to seep out of me and into the lives of others. I am a broken vessel—with weakness, vulnerability, and faults—but that brokenness creates a tiny crevice through which the Holy Spirit can operate. It is only then that Christ is powerfully revealed as a "treasure in jars of clay" (2 Corinthians 4).
Outwardly, I am nothing, but it is God who is at work inside of me… and it is Christ that I want others to see—not a flawless cistern.
”My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Facing up
I was flipping through my journal yesterday, marveled at God's unfailing and continual efforts to mold my life into one that glorifies Him, when I found this sentence:
However He has to get us there, God's ultimate desire is for us to see Him face to face. May He be glorified.
The benefit of having the rug pulled out from underneath me is that I will most likely land facing up... facing heaven... looking towards God, the only one who can pick me back up again.
However He has to get us there, God's ultimate desire is for us to see Him face to face. May He be glorified.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
the raft and the river
Nine months ago I was a worried mess about some very important decisions in my life. There were many nights that I laid in bed tossing around possibilities, ideas, and questions in my sleepless mind. The decision I finally came to entailed no dramatic display of heroic efforts, no announcement of great leaps and bounds ahead. No, really my decision looked more like a quiet, seemingly unnoticeable tiptoe of obedience. But that quiet step brought me peace.
I was fulfilled. I was happy. I was residing in the will of God.
Like I have so many times before, I started to wonder about this thing we call “the will of God.” The way most people talk about it, you’d think “God’s will” was a dainty raft on class 5 rapids. Flailing about, you’ve got to work your tail off to stay in the raft… One wrong move, and you’re overboard. No wonder I had driven myself to fear “missing it,” and falling out of the eternal raft.
You see, I have a funny history with rafting. I went several months ago, and ended up throwing my oar in the water. Yes, on purpose. I threw it in panic at a snake, but that’s beside the point. The fact is, I threw my only source of direction and momentum right into the water.
It’s funny what panic will do to a person. It causes us to react circumstantially, and muffles the gentle guidance of God.
I’ve really tried to shake myself free of this catastrophic view of “the raft of God’s will.” It just doesn’t seem to align with my understanding of who God is. God has never handed me a couple of oars, tossed me on a bunch of waves, and said, “Go ahead and try to stay afloat!” There have been times that I’ve felt that way, but when I really examine the situation, it’s usually my own fear creating that sort of picture.
In the times that I have been keenly aware of “being in God’s will,” I find that I just kind of… floated there… like water flowing downstream I suppose. There was some sort of natural progression that propelled me in the right direction. No flailing, no oar throwing, just a gentle progression in this tributary of the river of life.
My quiet step to peace nine months ago has flowed into quite the river of possibilities. I’ve sailed into opportunity after opportunity, and have been shown favor like never before. I’m so glad I haven’t spent the last nine months worried about falling out of some raft. The view is too beautiful to miss.
And there is peace like a river...
I was fulfilled. I was happy. I was residing in the will of God.
Like I have so many times before, I started to wonder about this thing we call “the will of God.” The way most people talk about it, you’d think “God’s will” was a dainty raft on class 5 rapids. Flailing about, you’ve got to work your tail off to stay in the raft… One wrong move, and you’re overboard. No wonder I had driven myself to fear “missing it,” and falling out of the eternal raft.
You see, I have a funny history with rafting. I went several months ago, and ended up throwing my oar in the water. Yes, on purpose. I threw it in panic at a snake, but that’s beside the point. The fact is, I threw my only source of direction and momentum right into the water.
It’s funny what panic will do to a person. It causes us to react circumstantially, and muffles the gentle guidance of God.
I’ve really tried to shake myself free of this catastrophic view of “the raft of God’s will.” It just doesn’t seem to align with my understanding of who God is. God has never handed me a couple of oars, tossed me on a bunch of waves, and said, “Go ahead and try to stay afloat!” There have been times that I’ve felt that way, but when I really examine the situation, it’s usually my own fear creating that sort of picture.
In the times that I have been keenly aware of “being in God’s will,” I find that I just kind of… floated there… like water flowing downstream I suppose. There was some sort of natural progression that propelled me in the right direction. No flailing, no oar throwing, just a gentle progression in this tributary of the river of life.
My quiet step to peace nine months ago has flowed into quite the river of possibilities. I’ve sailed into opportunity after opportunity, and have been shown favor like never before. I’m so glad I haven’t spent the last nine months worried about falling out of some raft. The view is too beautiful to miss.
And there is peace like a river...
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