Goodnight Prayers

I put son Sam to bed last night. He is old enough to do this mostly for himself but he still likes being read to and he still submits to being hugged and kissed, but only a little. I think he hugs back but he doesn't like kissing and since we are heading toward adolescence at warp speed I am okay with that.

Recently it has mostly been my husband who puts Sam to bed. I spent almost a year working many long hours and it became easier for the two of them to work out a plan than me to stop, put Sam to bed and start again. Mark was gone often during the years the older boys were being put to bed, so he very much enjoyed the time with Sam. They have their own things that they share and it has been very positive for both of them.

However, Mark is tied up for a little while and last night it was my turn. Besides the normal complaints about how he wasn't tired and didn't want to go to bed, it was a piece of cake. Only one real slighly annoying moment was when he put his hands on his hips and sighed at me and rolled his eyes. I had a horrible flashback to his brother at 13 and nearly went looking for the number to a military boarding school. I simply got very quiet and raised my eyebrows and he recovered quickly. Oh that this response would last.

He cleaned up, did all the normal stuff to get ready for bed and we read a story about a little boy who ate fruit during a rain storm and turned invisible. I think this had no impact on Sam but I was sure I would have nightmares. I think he is made of tougher stuff than me. It is a well written book with lots of humor, but just enough off center to make me wonder if the author knows he is funny.

Finally, two chapters later, I put the book down and Sam prays. Says the same prayer he has said in going to bed that I think he has prayed ever since he could talk. He prays the now I lay me down to sleep prayer with a modification I made for his brothers many, many years ago. We don't pray about dying before we wake, we pray to be kept safe all through the night and be awakened with the morning light. Then he prayed for his immediately famiy, his grandmothers and all his aunts and uncles and cousins. It is very very close to the same prayer his brothers prayed every night with me or their dad until they were too old to be put to bed. I don't know if they go on praying it for themselves or not. I would hope they have added some diversity to their prayers, and some silence in listening for a response, but I hope that tradition has been a good foundation for developing a prayer life.

I was struck last night at the normalcy my kids have found in prayer at least before meals and bedtime. I wonder how much of that tradition continues in the lives of their friends. I wonder if the foundation we lay has the impact we hope and if when Sam prays he feels God's presence, his watchful eye and protection as he sleeps. If he realizes when he prays that God would bless us, he is inviting God to be very active in our lives. Or does he just pray with the childlike response to the right process for sleeping. I dont know for sure, but I do know that his brothers have developed a strong sense of faith and the reality of God in their lives. I pray for the same in Sam.

And when I prayed last night, and again this morning, it was with thanks that God would give me the sense of wonder and appreciation to enjoy praying with my child again.

It's time for Fluff

Do you remember Black Sabbath? I think my brother must have been very much into Black Sabbath because I can remember being in junior high when I heard Sabbath Bloody Sabbath for the first time and a song entitled Fluff. I know, Christian blog, no room for Black Sabbath. I agree only Fluff is a delightful instrumental piece that always created pictures in my mind the way any good symphony piece does. It's not the symphony of course, but it is a pretty piece of music. I find pretty music, music that paints pictures of big green grassy fields with trees gently moving in the breeze and a gorgeous sky with big white fluffy cotton candy clouds floating past restful and restoring music, no matter who wrote it, or performed it.

I have been attending a Taize worship service on Sunday evenings when I can. Sometimes there is a piano player who is particularly good at creating delightful picture music. The sanctuary is very conducive to worship anyway. The windows are delightful stain glass and the architecture is graceful and glorious. The woodwork is absolutely gorgeous and my brother, the finish carpenter, would find it satisfying. Each week as I sit in the silence in the presence of God I am awed at the workmanship that has gone to make that worship space not just a sanctuary but a gateway to the heavenly realms. What a work of excellence that space is in so many ways. It is a joy to worship there.

The music enables the process. In addition to a piano player who gets lost in the music, we sing short repetitious responses, some in English, some in Latin. The voices raised in song add texture and color to the picture and there are many moments when the picture is so breathtaking I have to stop contributing and just take in the beauty and wonder. Even the liturgy and responsive readings lend themselves to creating an image of God that is tangible, so close and yet so enormous that I am torn between awe and intimacy. This is exactly what I like to think pure worship would be. Every element is part of the total focus on God, and being in his presence.

By the time we gather to celebrate the Lord's Supper I am feeling so much in tuned with my Saviour it seems like the most natural thing in the world. Tonight I served a young man standing at my right. He was maybe 10 or 12 and I thought it was the high point of my night. I have always enjoyed communion, I always felt it was like a commissioning service, wipe the slate clean and start over. I know it is a throw back to my youth when we had communion every week and I always loved that feeling of being clean again. I think that sweet young man reminded me of those days and the need we all have to be clean again.

Those mental images we are given from time to time are good. They bring us places we cannot go in any other way and isn't it amazing that God uses them to bring us in. I like being in, I recommend it highly. And you thought I had lost my mind on the Black Sabbath memory. Perhaps Fluff isn't fluff at all, but a glimpse into the light in every soul.

Okay, I am Annoyed

There is no point in pretending anything else. I am put out, bothered, irritated, aggravated, offended, frustrated, angry and a few more colorful words I was instructed not to use during my years in junior high. There I was taught that only those whose vocabulary was limited used such language and it reflected their lack of intelligence and education. This is perhaps true, but today for just this minute I would like the ability to reveal limited intelligence and lack of education with a few exclamation points and perhaps a black block where a censor has deleted a word. I am peeved, my friends.

No doubt, at this point, you have moved to the edge of your seat and with bated breathe you await eagerly the revelation of what horror of nature has occurred to cause this state of being. Your rapt attention is very soothing and might even on another occasion serve to reduce my annoyance and instead assist me to a mood of mild perturbance, but such is not the case today. Today I hold on to the anger and despite many deliberate, confrontational, come to Jesus conversations within my head, I cannot bring myself to lay this particular bucket down. And therein lies my difficulty. I think the bucket has little significance, the need to keep it firmly in my grasp has become the stumbling block.

This has me in deep thought today. I had a long conversation with an old friend this week. We discussed "powers and principalities" in terms of Paul's thoughts in Ephesians. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:12 She mentioned a very difficult situation she had found herself in and her awareness that it really wasn't the people she was struggling with, it was the spirit working through the people. This leads me to wonder this; is the issue itself one kind of personal affront and then the emotional response another? More pointedly, does an injury create opportunity for the spiritual forces of evil to mount an assault?

I know, I can hear you backing up now. Sliding back in your chairs, crossing your arms and murmuring things like, I think you may be over reacting. We are not particularly comfortable in talking about evil, powers of this dark world or any sort of 'warfare'. It sounds very much like looking for devils in bushes, and I am not at all suggesting this is a valuable use of time. (I will admit that I have been thinking some of my associates are resembling devils in the bushes or anywhere else, but this is merely a flight of fancy solely for purposes of diversion.)

Nor am I suggesting there is something demonic about anger or annoyance or any of the other emotions listed in the first paragraph. I believe we are emotional beings made that way in the image of God and all emotion is part of the whole. I think there are healthy ways to express and process emotion, but I am a firm believer in feelings being real and God given.

What I am saying is this; when we are injured either accidentally, deliberately or negligently, the injury is real and sparks a response. What we do with the response can become a battlefield. Paul thought so too, he was trying to tell us to be ready for battle by arming ourselves with the equipment God had provided. And it is in the middle of the battlefield I find myself in all my heated radiance. How do I take this God given response to an injury and respond appropriately? And really, how on earth does all that armor get this bucket out of my hand and my serenity restored?

I have gotten as far as the belt of truth. I am a big fan of belts. They are making a fashion return, or perhaps I am making a belt return, I haven't quite decided. The last couple of shopping trips I found some darling additions to the closet and I am pleased as punch. I think they are also helpful in keeping my pants where they belong and my shirt tucked in. And, yes I admit, sometimes my cell phone in place. Don't repeat that, I have just discovered it is a no-no. I always wear a shirt over it....does that count?

The truth part speaks to me as well. Part of my anger today is in the repeated behavioral cycles I find myself in, and the injustice offends my sensibilities. The repetition makes me wonder where I am missing the boat and why I keep finding myself here. It also gives me cause to wonder if some of this is not my fault and if I am doomed to do this over and over again. I think I fear being held against my will in places that are painful, and I want to hold onto the anger because I think it protects me. What a silly thought. This truth thing is helpful!

More truth is that while I am a knucklehead and get more wrong than I do right, Jesus died for me while I was still quite lost and not at all making any attempt to be found. In fact, if I never get it, if I continually repeat the same pattern, his death on my behalf is still enough. Hebrews says that we have been made perfected and Jesus said it was finished. I am just trying to learn to live that way. There is a lot of comfort in remembering that I am a beloved daughter of the most high God and all the aggravation in the world cannot change that.


Finally, God tells me to let go of the bucket. That he will take it for me and he will see that it is both redeemed and made right. He never told me to set it down because it wasn't a big deal, didn't really hurt, was a complete misunderstanding. He said I wasn't the one to deal with it, he was. And he would deal with it perfectly. Forgiveness allows me to set the bucket down, and move on, knowing that my Father who loves me in ways my mind cannot conceive has it all well in hand and is redeeming all of it even as I release it.

I am less angry, and I haven't even gotten to the breastplate of righteousness. This might be good, as in my mind I see this as a bra and this is a rated G kind of blog. Still, there is much to be considered in all of this battle gear. I think for now I am stuck in the realization that I have a responsibility to understand it is a fight, and I can be equipped for it, if I choose to be. I do not think I chose to be today. I trust tomorrow I will choose more wisely.

Complaint Department

I studied the book of Philippians a few years ago with a great Bible study group. Good interesting mix of people, most dedicated to digging deep. We did a Precepts study which for those uninformed folks is a word by word, verse by verse, draw little symbols in colored pencil kind of in depth Bible study. One day when I arrived a little late six weeks or so into study, our leader said we are in Philippians and all I could think to respond back was...still? By the time we were done, I knew Philippians. I might have forgotten some of it over the years but I remember lots. Many may argue the value in Precept studies, I am not willing to attack or defend, just say I learned a lot.

One of the least favorite passages in Philippians was Chapter 2:14 where Paul requests that we Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe . I find this is much better when it is advice to others rather than personal application. It is hard to do anything without complaining or arguing, let alone everything. All of Chapter 2 is a challenge to me in many ways. Yet I wish very much to follow Christ's example. Oh my, the circular arguments that are already starting in my head.

It is not difficult to put others before me, consider their interests first, be like minded and of the same purpose when it is apparent to me they are attempting to do likewise, when they are older or weaker or even less mature in the faith. I can generally suck it up, endure and keep smiling. I wont promise I don't complain. I do try not to complain, mostly because I think it is so whiny, but sometimes I do. It is those folks who think I ought to put them first, who pay not the slightest amount of attention to anything happening outside of their line of vision, who have the only needs worth addressing that I can neither keep from complaining about and arguing with or consider them higher than myself. I have no wish to be of one mind, one spirit, one love with such beings and a very real part of me feels that I need not.

I can hear the argument in response, in fact I can make it. Christ did not empty himself and become nothing for our sakes because we were worthy. He did not endure abuse and suffering and death on the cross because he judged our attitudes to be correct and our hearts in tune. As a sidebar, I think Jesus might have complained a little. He seemed to get awfully tired of the disciples from time to time and wondered if they were ever going to catch on. That thought aside, there is no doubt he was a willing sacrifice because the Father asked him be. The prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane is certainly not s prayer of complaint, but there is no arguing that Jesus is clearly praying that if there could be another way, he would like to take it. This offends some people but it so much encourages my heart. Jesus in my view approaches the throne of the Mostly Holy God and states what he wants, and submits to what the Father wills. Oh to have this kind of faith.

So having blown my position out of the water, how do I come back to reclaim it? Well, I can't of course, but I can say this. There is a time to submit for the good of others and a time to stand firm for the good of others too. Sometimes it is more loving to tell someone no than it is to support negative and sometimes harmful behavior. Do we really want to tolerate or encourage other members of Christ's body to behave badly? Don't we have some responsibility to be wise about who's purpose and spirit we become one with? How do we treat others as better than ourselves when we cannot support their actions?

I think the answer to that is complex. I think I often feel I need to correct a behavior my Father is not at all ready to have corrected by me. I think I am quick to judge others and I think my attitude is not at all like Christ's. In fact I am not willing to be poured out, I demand to be filled up. Yet, I believe there are also times where I am called to stand, to speak the truth in love, and trust God will weave together the brokenness in me, and in my brothers and sisters as a result. The only way I think we know the difference is by sitting quietly at God's feet, telling him what we want, then submitting to his will.

I guess while I am sitting quietly, I might quit arguing and complaining so much. I might even practice turning the other cheek, going the extra mile, giving up my coat and my cloak. I might discover becoming pure and blameless and shinning like a star will delight me in ways complaining and arguing never have. I think the star thing will work for me. Now if the rest of you could just get your acts together.

Excellence

People who have accomplished work worthwhile have had a very high
sense of the way to do things. They have not been content with mediocrity.
They have not confined themselves to the beaten tracks; they have never
been satisfied to do things just as others so them, but always a little
better. They always pushed things that came to their hands a little higher
up, this little farther on, that counts in the quality of life's work. It
is constant effort to be first-class in everything one attempts that
conquers the heights of excellence.

Orison Swett Marden
(1850-1924, American author, founder of Success Magazine)

For many years now I have been getting these daily quotes. I can't even tell you where they come from. They just show up, mostly every day, sometimes only a couple of times a week. There was a long spell where they stopped and I figured I had been removed from the daily quote list. Then one day they were back and I was a happy camper again.

The daily quotes do not always speak to me. Sometimes when I read one I scratch my head and think, what does that mean?! I think the person picking the quotes, who ever that may be, is doing the same thing. I think sometimes it's late and they need a quote and they pick one and they think perhaps that is so esoteric everyone will think it means something. This may not be entirely true, but I think it is a possibility. For example, I think Maya Angelou is a profound writer, but if she shows up in the daily quotes, there is not a chance in the world I am going to understand. I think the quote is chosen to be deliberately thought provoking. I do enough provoking thought without encouragement.

This quote spoke to me. This quote could easily become my creed. It is exactly how I feel about life, about work, about purpose and vision. I think it is stuff that dreams are made of, the pushing harder and higher, dreaming ever bigger and better dreams. I think the idea that we can take something and develop it and make it a little better than we found it, is an inspirational one. It is certainly the desire I try to instill in my kids and one I try to live out every day.

I guess the question is, am I trying to win approval or salvation as a result of working toward excellence. The answer is, yes, there was a time, a long time when that was exactly what I was trying to do. The results were somewhat less than satisfactory as for every moment I had of excellence, I had two of disappointing failure. In embracing God's grace, unmerited favor not based in what I can do for him but in his amazing love for me, I didn't change my outlook but I sure changed my motivation. It isn't any longer a push to earn God's love, but in response to God's love. I don't think anymore how can I make God happy today? Now I think, I have been given so much, how do I give back?

I have thought for a number of years now about Bishop Robert Morgan and his analogy of scriptural/spiritual/sacrificial/sacramental: have to/want to/choose to/ need to. I have hungered for a relationship with God that is based in needing to be in fellowship with him. I have prayed about it for years. I think understanding grace has moved me another step closer. I certainly have moved beyond having to and wanting to. I think I often choose to, every now and then I need to. I want the sacramental to become much more a part of my being.

Moving higher up and farther in is a very satisfying pursuit. May today we discover many opportunities to embrace satisfaction.

Frantic Time

Yikes! I have done it again. I have thrown three hundred balls into the air and now I am trying to keep them all up there. Why do I do this? Why do I feel the need to have at least two, three, seven, ten projects all running at the same time.

I will tell you why. Despite the frantic, stressful feel, I love the energy! I do. I really like the way it feels when I am running full throttle. When my brain is fully engaged and I am jumping from thought to thought to thought, ping ping ping. I like the way I have to use every neuron and electron to hold all of the details in place. I really like that fast action, check it off the list and move on intensity and I really like when it comes together and the results are fabulous. When they aren't, I am not so happy, but still I am ready to learn from the experience and move on. Learning and moving on are a good combination.

I love the creativity of a new project. I like the ground clearing, brain challenging, idea formulating, volunteer recruiting, vision sharing part. I really love it when you communicate an idea that excites people who then take the concept and run with it. I love that. It is like giving birth. Only no diapers. Heck, I really like that. Come to think of it, no tuition later either.

And I love a challenge. Give me a job, let me figure out how to get it done and then let me move on. I need something in the wings all the time, my friends. What will I ever do when I run out of new projects to take on? I think then I will know it's time to do something else. I think that's how I got out of accounting. There came the day when I felt like I had done it all for the billionth time and I just couldn't do it again.

Some folks find repetition comforting. I suppose it is in some ways. I certainly tend to react the same ways to stress and even happiness. I like my routines left alone. I like order and method and I don't want mine interfered with. But when it comes to energy, to passion, to the stuff that makes me jump out of bed in the morning and wake up in the wee small hours making notes, it needs to be something new. Something that makes me turn on the creativity and get it lined up and out. It's the stuff that gives me a buzz and makes my eyes light up. I have been told from across a room you can tell when I have had a new idea. Perhaps this is true, but I am doubtful. I always have a new idea!

The deadline is approaching, the details need nailing down and the make or break point is now. The blood is pumping, my wheels are whirling and those who love me are headed for cover. From now until Sunday at 7, when the latest project is over, it's all speed and fury. As show time approaches a million questions fly through my mind and the adrenaline pumps by the gallon. It may not be pretty but boy it's fun. Life is a party, my friends. Grab your sneakers and lets go!

Dog Days

I have hit that place. You know that place I mean. Like the dog days of summer, when the heat has finally gotten to you, the grass crunches when you walk on it, there is no energy, no joy, just vast endless unrelenting waves of heat. There is no breeze, the air is still and lifeless. Its bound to be what our forefathers thought hell would be. That's where I am on the inside: dead, dead, dead.

I hate being here. Sometimes when I see it coming I get in such avoidance mode that I don't speak to myself for days. I hate when the sun loses it's fascination for me because I am hiding from the heat, and when I feel the same way about the Son. And the Father. Today, the heat it too great and I wish to hide from it all.

I need to say this. I know what to do. I do. I understand when it gets like this I need to recite the promises God gives me in His word. I need to revisit the many times I have wandered into these places and He has rescued me. I need to center in prayer, clean my thoughts, remember that I am not supposed to solve the problems of the world. I know. My soul needs rest, my cups needs to be refreshed, my thirst quenched. I know. I need to sit at the feet of a good teacher, let my spirit be encouraged, remember where I have come from, see this as an opportunity to develop my faith, look for the promise, keep my eyes focused on Jesus. I know. I do.

And I will. Only, for right this moment, I am weary. I am too tired, too sore, too overwhelmed and too defeated to be proactive. Right now if I truly have permission to be, to be present, to be aware, to be real, to embrace the moment and feel what I am truly feeling, I am weary to the core. I find no safe harbor, no kindred spirit, no help or hope and no desire to find any. I find colors lifeless, inspiration shallow and comfort empty. I feel abandoned and unwanted, put upon and depleted, friendless and faithless.

Even as I write the words I begin to feel the cloud gently lifting. I am in just a few short moments going to see one of my dearest friends and he always refreshes me. Just being with him is like drinking from the coolest well. It will help me tremendously. I am starting to think about how good the shower will feel, how nice it is to have my house empty and my son home. I am aware that help is coming.


Embracing the desolation enables me to embrace the consolation when it comes. I resist it very much. It makes me uncomfortable, I feel like a bad person, a bad friend, a bad daughter. I know that others dislike it when I get this way and that adds to the rejection and loneliness. So I resist and encourage others to resist. I begin to believe that is wrong. I begin to believe desolation is essential to consolation and failing to be present in it creates the very demons I try so hard to defeat. And I wonder this, what if being faithless in the moment will result in more focus on faith in the big picture. What if acknowledging emptiness, the joyless weariness that robs you of hope actually makes you ready to receive a hope that is based not in positive thought but sacramental truth. What if it does?