Lent Day 14: Leaning on grace to fill my gaps

Little things today,  made me keenly aware of my shortcomings...

Banter between moms waiting to pick up kids reminded me of how abysmal I am at small talk or making friends in general.

Work and projects at home reminded me that how I lack polish that takes decent work and makes it great.

Wresting kids to bed reminds me how much work I still have to do on patience.

I've struggled with all these (and many other) shortcomings since I was a kid.  Having a hard time making friends, polishing and taming myself and my work.  I never seem to be able to fit myself into a nice box... I'm more of a colorful sprawling mess.  It irritates people.  I try to pull it all together,  but often my efforts,  going against my own grain blow up in my face.

Life is a wrestling match with ourselves.  Our innate flawed nature.  Taming those bad pieces and strengthening the light. Finding vocation and life circumstances that allow us to be the part of the body God created us to be.

As much as we might find the right fit,  the right vocation,  calling,  for our lives,  we inevitably run up against our shortcomings.  Failing short of who we want to be.  Lacking the light and the love we want to offer the world.  Limited by the same old things that we swore we had put behind.

Today... like other days like this...i lean on grace. I realize that my struggle with my broken nature enlightens me to evidence of the Spirit working in my life.  How could I possibly see the hand of God if I assumed my own strength orchestrated every outcome? Accepting my limitations opens the possibility of ordinary miracles and a dance with the divine that makes something out of a jar of clay.  Takes my water and turns it to wine,  and then feeds 5,000.

Days like today I don't get how that would happen.  But, days like today are exactly what I need to be open to the possibility.

Lent Day 13: Fool's for Christ

My mouth curved into a smile as I cracked this week's readings. The new testament reading comes from 1 Corinthians:

"For God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom and God's weakness is stronger than human strength."

My mind is taken back 20 years when I was trying to find the verse that comes later in the book...

"We are fools for Christ"

My brothers and their friends had formed an off-beat theatre troupe that did quasi-improv comical interpretations of bible stories -- think veggie tales meets mystery science theater 3000 and you'd be close. They were silly. They had fun. They were light to the world.

I was inspired as I watched them practice, build props, make their own t-shirts. It was striking to see a large group of teenage boys so focused.

Initially, the church didn't quite know what to think of them. But slowly, they were invited to perform during church and then at special performances and then they traveled to local churches to perform.

Today, I as I reflect on those fool's for Christ and today's reading -- I am struck that yes, God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom. Performances were initially a way to overcome the boringness of church. But more deeply, it was an invitation to more deeply encounter the scripture that laid a foundation of their faith. All of those boys grew up to take active leadership roles in the church. One became a pastor. All of them carry the experience as foundational.

I think about my Facebook feed and the ongoing debate about guns and school violence. Maybe there is space to learn from God's foolishness...

Lent Day 12: Crocus's in the snow

Growing up in Michigan, February was the hardest month of winter. Scratch that, March was the hardest month of winter.

Days were dark.
The cold, bone chilling.
The monotony, endless.
Gray. The lifeless world darkened the soul.

Then one day, crocus's blooming underneath the snow sent the first ray of hope that spring would someday come.

Like the dove who returned an olive branch to Noah as they awaited land. The crocus brings the first indication that the imprisonment of winter would soon be over.

Yesterday afternoon, the first cracks of my voice started coming back.

Before it is over, Lent will grow quite dark. But, keep watch for pale lavender petals that fight their way through the snow to bear witness to the light that is coming. Like the pillar ahead of Moses and the rainbow for Noah. God's promises manifest in the world around us as a reminder that God travels with us as we go.

Lent Day 11: I want to do things my way...

Today's sermon focused on the gospel lesson.  Jesus begins to describe the suffering and death he will face. Peter stands up and says,  "Never." Jesus rebukes him with "Those who save thier lives will lose them.  Pick up your cross and follow me. "

This is a hard lesson.  One that I've been meditating on quite a bit lately.

I often find myself relating to Peter.  So excited and passionate about what Jesus is doing and yet skittish when rubber meets the road and following Jesus gets difficult.  But,  also like Peter with many reminders chipping away at my heart and mind,  and I reluctantly let go of my own agenda to embrace a harder road.

Jesus doesn't give up on Peter and seems to smile at his enthusiasm like a mother admiring her toddler who colors up and down the hallways with great vigor. Continually correcting and encouraging. And like a toddler,  Peter keeps trying... getting out of the boat to join Jesus on the water. His heart is in the right place, but his vision is short sighted.

My take away is that God has unlimited patience to teach and guide us as we mature in faith.  Using the moments when we completely step in it to teach and reshape our hearts.

I may not understand God's ways. I might protest that suffering or self sacrifice shouldn't be part of the journey or complain about injustice that continues to plague our world.  I might scream and throw a fit.  "It's just not fair, God"

God may rebuke me, or put me in time out until I am calm enough to hear.... And then, when I am ready for it,  gently unveil a limited version of the truth that I can grasp my little mind around. One day,  I'll get it.  Till then,  grace.

Lent Day 10: God makes strange and beautiful things...

God has blessed me with odd children whose interests and curiosities expose me to things in creation that I would not otherwise learn about.  Today,  that was the element bismuth. Bismuth is a metal that forms crystals when cooled slowly. They don't look like they could be natural,  but rather made by the craft of a skilled artist. Looking at it,  I'm actually surprised I've never seen jewelry out of it. (Bismuth is also the main ingredient in Pepto Bismal, BTW)

I've learned about neutron stars and the swirling formation of our solar system.  We've explored succulents and sea life that lives at the bottom of the Mariana trench.  And still,  they find new wonders to bring me to learn about together... Those little minds are wonders too.

One alternate reading for this Sunday is the story of the transfiguration,  which I think I've seen in the lectionary before but it surprises me again to see during lent.  The story tells of Jesus walking up a mountain with his disciples. When they reach the top,  Jesus begins to glow and is joined by Moses and Elijah. And Peter is like... woooh.

Some days it is good just to be awed by God.

Lent Day 9: Eeeking out every last drop of productivity

This afternoon I found myself lying on the floor playing paw patrol with Philip.  The house was relatively clean.  The kids were  in relatively good shape and there were still several hours until Ulrich would be home from work.  As I laid there,  my mind churned.  "Is there anything I could get done right now?"

The last several years have taught me to multitask and eek out every last drop of productivity out of life. There's way more to do in a day than there are hours.  So stack things up and I'll get more done.  I scanned the room...

"walls need touch up,  front windows need cleaning... I need to lay here so Philip can play with me. I should just be present"

I pulled my mind back to the moment and drove my cars around.  Miles climbed on me.  My heart smiled. The moment was beautiful.

And yet,  a part of me was restless.  And a part of me felt guilty for feeling restless.  So I thought I would reflect on it for tonight's blog...

I work so hard because I feel the need to be what everyone needs... to be good at my job, to be a good mom,  to be a good friend,  sister,  daughter,  etc. I feel the need to be good and to do good.  I think many people do.  We draw our own conclusions about our self worth according to our accomplishments. I would like to do something for this world and I would like to matter.

But in this ongoing reflection on pride,  I accept that my self worth is inherent.  I was made in the image of God and my life matters.  I cannot change that.  All the busyness of my day, the achievements in my life do not move the needle on the inherent value of my life.

It is hard to accept this because I want to deserve it.  I want to say I matter because I worked hard and I earned it.  But I cannot.  The universe is vast and my life is so very insignificant in the span of time and also so very significant because life is a gift. It is granted. It is beyond our control.

And so I am free.  To lay on the floor and play paw patrol with dirty windows.  I am free to use my gift of life to change the world.  Regardless of my choice,  my life matters... And so does everyone else's.

Lent Day 8: Waiting is hard

Waiting and uncertainty.

Combine these and you get one of the most uncomfortable of human conditions. Waiting with certainty allows you to make peace with the outcome.  Uncertainty without waiting is like ripping off the bandaid, get discomfort out of the way quickly.

Unfortunately, God seems to like using this very uncomfortable state to deepen the spiritual journey.  40 years of wandering in the desert, 40 days of rain,  7 days walking around the walls of Jericho. Scripture is full of examples of waiting out uncertainty over long periods... perhaps the longest of which is the wait for the messiah, the day of redemption, the final defeat of darkness.  The faithful wait and in our waiting,  we meet God.

This week's scripture is the promise to Abraham that he will one day be a great nation. I think the story struck me harder since I work in the infertility space and walk along side those knee deep in heartache that accompanies the seemingly endless wait for a positive pregnancy test. Abraham was already old when this promise came.  After lifetime of childlessness, he had probably finally made peace with the inability to conceive.   This promise was like a cruel joke that thrust him back into the throws of uncertainty.

Lent has a way of bringing me into a wilderness of uncertainty.  I do my best to resist the urge to make knee jerk decisions to resolve my inner conflicts. Rather,  I try to purposely sit with it.  Like an unresolved chord or a crooked painting on the wall, the feelings tap on my impatience. Breathing in and saying "Just wait.  Easter is coming. " I let the uncertainty stay, an unwanted guest,  I pull up a chair and offer it a place at the table.

If you are feeling your way through an uncertain fog... peace be with you and may the journey strengthen you.

Lent Day 7: Gasping for breath

I woke up in the middle of the night gasping for breath.
The harder I tried to breath, the less air I got.

I panicked.
I felt like I was drowning.

I tried to calm down and think rationally. The ER was 20 minutes away and I probably shouldn't drive myself. But... if the conditioned worsen, I'd be in real trouble. I woke Ulrich. He got various medications and started me on a breathing treatment. He rubbed my back to calm me. As I began to calm down and slow my breathing, more and more air got in. Like a Chinese finger trap, struggling against my breath only made things worse.

Once I got the breathing under control I went to take a shower. My body was shaking. The panic had triggered an acute stress response and I released endorphins (which probably aided in opening my airways) but the aftermath caused a heightened alert and a cascade of physical responses that left me sleepless.

Many pastors I know talk about baptism less like a benign couple of drops on your forehead and more an invitation to go out into the water over your head. Our response is often to struggle and panic against faith. Letting go and accepting that we are in over our heads allows us to find a calm, a peace that passes understanding.

My reflection today is using my physical struggle to breath last night as a lens to view my faith. Where to I struggle and fight when I should let go and embrace calm? How might I open my heart, my soul -- like my airways -- to receive the nudging of the Holy Spirit?

If I accept that baptism puts me in over my head, what happens when I finally stop the struggle and let myself go under the water?

As the days are starting slowly lengthen. Day after day, a sliver more of light.
Easter is coming. Light is coming and the darkness cannot overcome it.

Lent Day 6: Let me tell you why I suck

Yesterday, I sat down first thing to meditate,  pray and write my Lenten blog post. Upon clicking the publish button,  I entered my normal Monday marathon of meetings.

Lots of things were off. It was a holiday so childcare arrangements were different which interrupted my meetings,  I had no voice so struggled to respond to questions pointed at me.  Maybe it was the weather or the fact that we had long hours of meetings on a holiday,  but people were a little cranky.

I got cranky.  I tried to shake it.  I tried to remember my blog post in the morning... the power of love to push you to be selfless.  I looked at my phone...a reminder "are you being light in the world today?"

Shut up,  phone.

Truth is... I suck.

I went home feeling defeated. 

Maybe I can shake this by loving on my littles.  Miles ran to see me and I laid on the floor with him.  Unable to talk I decided to build towers for him to knock down. In the silence of my play I worked to loosen the bad mood that had gripped me.... and then I remembered the women's retreat from last fall. 

Focused on grace.

There is always a gap between who I am and who I want to be.  Whether that gap is big or small...God fills that gap.

Even though I suck, God doesn't fire me. 
Grace carries me when I just can't.

Lent Day 5: Dying to self

"...whoever loses their life for my sake will save it..."

I've been thinking a lot about this verse and opened the lectionary to find that it is next week's Gospel lesson. 

There is great honor for those who sacrifice themselves for others. Those amazingly brave teachers last week. Soldiers, police, rescue workers all put themselves in harms way to keep people safe. But for most of us who do not have that particular call, the request to lay down your life doesn't come often, if ever.

Or does it?

Dying to self each morning is a choice. 

What is on the agenda for the day? 

Is it in service of God, of others, or of myself?

What drives my actions?

Getting more,

building my resume,

accumulating stuff,

having fun,

being happy?

or being a light in the world that drives out darkness?

Choosing how I orient my life is a choice of whether I live for myself or I live for something beyond myself. And those who choose to die to self daily often have no problem finding the courage to place themselves in harms way should the moment arrive. They have done it in a 1,000 little ways. 

By why -- why lay down your life for others?  why would anyone take a bullet for anyone else?

I don't have a clear answer for this. It is obscured beyond the veil of death and something we can only glimpse at with incompleteness. For this, I turn to Corinthians... "Now we know in part, then we will know in full.... until then there is faith, hope and love. And the greatest of these is love."

Love, indescribable, powerful, earth-moving.

It drives out the fear of death and enables us to sacrifice in ways that we never would otherwise. 

In the moments that I have been able to truly lay down my own self in service of God or others, I have found a life that is permeated with love. For me.. that gives me hope in the promise of these words.

Lent Day 4: Give voice to the voiceless

I've been without a voice for actually about a week now.  And I notice how hard it is to actually get people's attention.  If they are not looking at me and are not within arms reach, most of my attempts to get some one to glance at me long enough to recognize that I am attempting communication, fail. Over the week, I have started making fewer attempts to spare myself the ridiculousness of it all.

I reflect on this and realize how much more important it is that we take steps to seek out the voiceless and give them voice. They may have given up even trying to spare themselves the ridiculousness of it all.

The line from scripture that has stuck with me this week has been:

"Repent and believe the good news."

The good news that God is reconciled with man. That an advocate gives voice to all the voiceless and hears their cry.  The good news that the spirit dwells among us,  inspiring and empowering us to be the hands and feet of God in this world.

"A light has come and the darkness shall not overcome it. "

For a time,  I am silent.  But there will be a time for me to speak and it is good news is that in that moment,  I will not walk alone.

Lent Day 3: A mandatory vow of silence

It seems that nearly every lent, I set out with my own spiritual practice to try open my heart and mind to God's quiet voice and I find the path quickly takes unexpected twists and turns.  This year,  it seems literal silence is part of my journey.

Since Ash Wednesday, I've had laryngitis forcing me to silence beyond a few functional whispers. 

It has been interesting to reflect on how I am affected by the inability to speak.  With small children to keep safe,  it makes me nervous as I can't alert them to danger. In the other hand,  I can't yell at them for lolly gagging and find my patience has had to grow.  I've had to rely on my husband to lead more at home.

Oddly,  I think the (forced) practice has quieted my brain. Knowing that I can't really speak,  I spend less time thinking about what I'm going to say.  My mind is more present with fewer thoughts overall.

I've been reflecting on the readings for this week.  Hoping some great insight would fly into my mind or that I would have some great example of living these scriptures... but I haven't.

None the less,  I feel like God is inviting me on some spiritual journey or art least meeting me in the road with new things to teach... might just take a few tries to get it into my thick skull.

Lent Day 2: The power of the water

The world rages on.
The tragedy of mass shootings.
The cold and the dark at the end of winter.
My heart heavy. Lent has started. The ashes convict me.

But I open the reading and find light.

"The rainbow is my promise..." "The kingdom of God is drawing near..."

The lectionary readings for this Sunday focus on baptism...
The baptism of Jesus, the rainbow after the flood.

My heart becomes hopeful.
The water is powerful.

Every one of my children were baptized at Easter Vigil (or Easter Morning) as was the tradition in the early church for new believers. As their mother, I walked faith anew each lent as I prepared to bring them to the water.

And so, baptism as the capstone of lent holds a deep place in my heart.

In the darkness of this bleak time.
In this broken world that needs saving.
The water awaits.
God will find us all there.
Go in deep.
Surrender. Grace.

Lent Day 1: I probably shouldn't be posting this...

I spent the day taking in the imagery around me. Ash-y foreheads, hearts, candies... pink. Lots of pink. I found there to be a very ironic message in the juxtaposition of Valentines day with Ash Wednesday.

"You are special and loved"

"You are dust. You will die and the world will forget you."





When putting these two messages side by side. Valentine's day obviously wins out. Who wants to dwell on depressing messages about mortality?

This year, I've decided to practice my own version of lectio divina, a method of meditation on scripture, as a way to focus my efforts on this blog. So, I pulled out the lectionary and looked up the verses that Christians the world over read for Ash Wednesday... Joel 2, Matthew 6 and Corinthians 5.

I read the verses over the course of the day and allowed them to shape my heart and thoughts... maybe most applicable section to the starting of lent was this section from Matthew:

"And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you."
Don't draw attention to yourself. Hm...

Don't post this on social media.

No selfies??

Pride is tough. Our society is shaped around self. Self-esteem, personal rights, individualized medicine... and marketing.. oh, man marketing. We are told 1,000 times a day to keep ourselves front and center. To make ourselves happy. To achieve. To reach our full potential.

I've been on a journey the last year or so learning how to take myself out of the center. Most of it has been kicking and screaming.

I WANT TO BE IMPORTANT!

I WANT TO BE RECOGNIZED FOR MY WORK!

I WANT TO MATTER!

But what if I silenced this voice.

Someone might get credit for my work...
I might miss out on a promotion...
I might not reach my full potential...
I might not make a difference....

I've been reading scripture and theology from times past that urge for a more selfless way of life. Augustine, Lewis, Luther. They hound on pride and self-centeredness as core sins. Is it really a sin to focus on achievement? Maybe they are dated.

Achievement isn't a sin... but pride is. And so, I've reached inside and started to look for evidence of pride. Disentangling it from my heart and cleaning up. What would happen if someone else got credit for my work? What if I never reached my full potential? And as I slowly evict myself from the center of my own little universe I find my thoughts are freed and my eyes are open to see more of the world.

Dialogs of conversations that I would like to have with people to defend my point of view stop playing in my mind. Analyzing situations to see where I stand with people disappear... I find myself with more space in my heart and mind to focus on the work of life at hand. I have more patience and get less flustered by the little life situations that would normally cause a rant on Facebook.

I have a long way to go but I'm learning that the irony of dying to yourself is finding a whole life to live.