Tag: believe

shade

by hovering love

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This photo evokes opposite emotions within me. Viewing the rugged, sunny coastline, the rich blue ocean and the pale blue sky fills my heart with a sense of adventure and longing—longing for the sunny vision that’s nearby, just waiting for me to join it. The trees in the foreground that I view the coastline through are almost black in appearance—deeply in shadows compared to the brightly lit coastline. This makes me feel like I’m in the dark, watching from the shadows. That sounds ominous, but it doesn’t feel that way. Oddly enough, I feel content to stand in this shade—it’s cool and quiet here, protected from the wind off the ocean and the bright glare of the sun. This is not the “dead dark of night” that I feel. This shade is a place of rest, where I can catch my breath. It gives me a feeling of safety and peace. The adventure of this coastline is one that I’ve experienced before, and I have a sense that I’ll be returning to it soon enough. Just for now, though, I’m grateful for a moment in the shade, away from the hectic wind and the glaring light—a time to be still and at peace. As I stand here, I notice that the view is spectacular, especially when framed by the still, quiet shade.

As I sit with this photo and ponder the nature and tempo of my own life at present, I hear God speak to me:

“Come into the shade and rest with me. Let the adventure of each day be perfectly framed by my quiet, still and peaceful presence. The adventure will be exhausting, draining, if you don’t take time to breath with me. Don’t worry about missing anything; the adventure will still be there when you leave the shade. Come away, and be with me.”

soil

by hovering love

“Now you are ready to listen to the revelation of the parable of the sower and his seeds: . . .” Matthew 13:18 (TPT)

The parable of the sower recounts the tale of a farmer who goes out to sow seeds. As he sows, some of the seeds fall on the hard beaten path where the seeds can only lie on the surface waiting to be eaten by birds. Some seeds fall on gravel where the seeds sprout up quickly but wilt just as quickly when exposed to hot sun and no rain because they have no roots to sustain them. Some seeds fall among weeds where the seeds sprout but are overtaken and suffocated by the heartier weeds. And some seeds fall on good soil, soil that’s been carefully prepared, making it a receptive host for the seeds. These seeds sprout, grow, thrive and produce a harvest that exceeds the farmer’s wildest dreams.

Through the years, I’ve heard a variety of sermons preached on this parable and its intended meaning. I’ve listened as the four types of soil were related to the hearts and lives of four different types of people. Some people are hard beaten soil, some are gravel, some are filled with weeds and some are good soil. And there always seems to be exhortations for each kind of soil to make whatever changes are necessary for it to become the good type. But that hasn’t been my experience.

I have been all of these types of soil, and I have little doubt that I still am. This is my human reality: I can be each of these soils at different times and all of them simultaneously. I can be good soil regarding one aspect of my heart and being while being a hard beaten path regarding a different aspect of who I am and how I live. I can’t help but wonder how many seeds are continuously scattered upon me by the Holy Spirit that never even have a chance to germinate in my heart, let alone take root and produce a harvest? Far too many to count, I’m sure. Yet, the Holy Spirit keeps on sowing. I know this to be true; otherwise, there would be no evidence of any fruitfulness in my life at all. But I have experienced some pretty amazing fruit—harvests that have certainly exceeded my wildest dreams of what would happen or could even be possible.

Is there anything that I can do to prepare my own heart to be receptive to these seeds? I’ve heard all kinds of ideas on that subject, too. I have experienced only one thing that seems to make a real difference in the condition of my soil: humility. If I’m willing to be real with myself and with God, I’m much more likely to see change occur. Not that I’m capable of producing that change, but I am more changeable. After all, the soil is just the soil—not the farmer who prepares it, not the seed that sprouts and grows and produces fruit in it. I’m very grateful that the Holy Spirit continues to sow seeds upon me whether the soil of my heart is “good” or not.

Thank you, Father Son and Holy Spirit, for your mercy and grace. Thank you for continuing to prepare the soil of my heart, more and more, over time. Thank you for continuing to sow seeds within me whether I’m ready and willing to take them in or not. Thank you for producing your fruit within me. Thank you for never giving up on me. Thank you for loving me and working with me just as I am. I love you. All that I am is because of you.

Amen!

shine

by hovering love

“Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.” Matthew 5:15, 16 (The Message)

This passage of talk about being salt and light for the world has always elicited mixed emotions in me. For decades, I’ve heard far too many exhortations using this passage from the pulpit and fellow Christians to boldly evangelize everything and everyone around me, leaving me feeling like a second-rate Christian at best. This charge to be open with my life, generously sharing my life and being with others, goes against my personality and temperament. First of all, I am an introvert. My personality type is that of a 5 on the enneagram and an INFP on the Meyers Briggs scale (if that means anything to you). By nature, I am quiet, reserved, thoughtful, sensitive, deeply intuitive, intelligent, protective of my privacy and space, cautious and untrusting towards people that I don’t know but deeply engaging with people that I know and feel comfortable with. When I do interact with others, I prefer to do so in a one-on-one or small group manner, and I have little interest in superficial small talk. I accept and enjoy the way that God has made me, and I am content. However, being “salt and light for the world”, especially the kind that glows brightly from a hilltop that everyone near and far can easily see, does not come naturally to me! It feels frighteningly overwhelming! If I were asked to put myself out there in this manner for any other reason, my response would be a very quick “No, thank you!” But since this charge is for the sake of others, and is pleasing to God, it sounds a bit more appealing—still an unpleasant and stretching challenge for me, but more appealing all the same.

I appreciate how The Passion Translation puts this in terms of being the kind of salt and light that is beneficial to everyone in the house. The inside of my house is not glaring brightly on a hilltop for all to see, it’s much more intimate, personal and real—something that I feel much more comfortable with, even with strangers. As odd as it may sound considering how I’ve described myself, I am willing to share my life and being with others, even painful or humiliating truths and experiences, if I sense that it will benefit them in any way. All humans are unique, made with painstaking cleverness and creativity on God’s part. Therefore, all humans will respond to and obey God’s charges in ways that are unique to them—unique to the person that God created them to be. We all have our own unique ways of fulfilling the charge to “shine”.

As I sit quietly with this passage of Scripture, I hear God’s gentle invitation to me:

     “My child, trust me to place you where you will be of most benefit to yourself and others—both among those you see regularly and those who are strangers to you. Trust me to be involved in each and every interaction that you have. Know that no part of yourself that you share with others will ever be lost or shared in vain. I am not wasteful with your life, your love or your being. Remember, nothing is ever wasted with me. Be anxious for nothing. Come, and follow me.”    

plan

by hovering love

“He spoke plainly about this, and Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But when Jesus turned and looked at his disciples, he rebuked Peter.  . . . ‘You do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns.’” Mark 8:32,33 NIV

Poor Peter!  He responds to Jesus’ words as someone whose dearest loved one has just announced that they have been fatally diagnosed and only have weeks to live.  Denial, objection, determined to find a cure and fight to the bitter end—I can almost hear Peter say, “We can beat this! You must live!”  Peter is stunned but not stopped, determined to find the solution that will bring about what he desires most of all.  Peter is just as resolute in this moment (that Jesus should live and reign) as Jesus is (that he must die and be resurrected)—perhaps even more so. But Jesus won’t allow himself or his other disciples to be swayed by Peter’s temporal focus, and he sets the record straight.  How hard this must have been for all of them—a moment, a time and a truth that was drenched in deep, deep sorrow.

As I reflect on this story, I realize that Peter’s desire that Jesus live and reign was perfectly in line with God’s plan; however, his timing and manner of execution were all wrong. Just like Peter, we humans often have deep longings and desires that are perfectly in line with God’s plan for our lives and beings.  And just like Peter, our timing and manner of execution frequently involves avoiding the necessity of waiting and suffering and sacrifice—things that must be involved to make it all holy.  Peter wants the glory without the pain; he wants it to be easily acquired and he wants it now (for Jesus, himself and all the others).  But experiencing the process of being disentangled from this world so you can be fully invested in God’s kingdom takes time, and it involves suffering and the loss of personal sacrifice—letting go of the false before you can grab ahold of the true.  Peter is learning, though, as we all must—the hard way.  This hardship has its cost, but also its benefit.  Hope emerges as we embrace and endure the sufferings, losses and sacrifices along the way.  This is the means by which our hope is made true, pure and indestructible.

God bless Peter.  God bless us all.

Amen!

jersey

by hovering love

March Madness is winding to its conclusion and the baseball season has begun. Screens of all shapes and sizes are filled with images of athletes wearing team jerseys of all colors and styles. Stadiums, auditoriums, streets and bars are filled with folks wearing team jerseys, too—all cheering for and hoping to celebrate their favorite team, the team they’ve chosen to identify themselves with.

I recently attended a retreat and decided to spend a few extra moments of quiet reflection in the monastery sanctuary before heading home. As I gazed upon the image of Jesus above the altar area, the memory of all the different jerseys entered my mind. I was suddenly struck with the thought that I was on Jesus’ team. Having been a person who never played team sports in my youth (females born in the 1950’s had little to no opportunity for that kind of experience) and who was frequently picked last for any games in PE class that required a team, this was a rather exciting epiphany. “I may be getting old, but at least now I’m on a team,” the thought of which almost made me laugh out loud.

As I drove home, my mind was filled with the array of team jerseys that we can wear in life that have nothing to do with athletics or sports. We have metaphorical jerseys for family, friends, school, work, hometown, interests, preferences, opinions, ideologies, ethnicity, socio-economic status, education, etc. We Christians can also have our own “jerseys” for denominational affiliation, and even the individual church that we attend. These various jerseys can give us a sense of belonging, but they can also promote a feeling of exclusivity and division. I’ve attended various kinds of churches throughout the years. Maybe that’s why I’ve never felt the need to own or wear the kind of “jerseys” that Christians can wear. This led me to ponder what Jesus’ team jersey would look like. Unlike the jerseys for all the things mentioned above (including denomination and church), which are often available in only one color and a size that supposedly “fits all”, each Jesus jersey would be made with its unique wearer in mind. The garment would be sized to fit perfectly. It would be made of a richly textured cloth that keeps you cool in the summer and warm in the winter, and it would breathe and move with you without encumbering in any way. And the colors! Jesus’ team would have jerseys of every color, in every shade and hue that exists, made in the exact color that will enhance the original beauty of its wearer and render them radiantly gorgeous—just the kind of jersey that even I am enticed to wear.

What jersey are you wearing today?

 

 

 

measure

by hovering love

“All throughout his time with his disciples, Jesus had demonstrated a deep and tender love for them. And now he longed to show them the full measure of his love.”  John 13:1

Dear Jesus,

What does it look like for you to demonstrate the “full measure of your love” for me?  The full measure of your love appears to be that it’s immeasurable, far too vast and never-ending to sufficiently survey, value or assess.  How do I measure that which is immeasurable?  I don’t believe that I can; the very best that I can do is simply allow myself to receive and experience its fullest effects.

What does it look like for me to demonstrate the “full measure of my love” for you, and for others? I’ve never deluded myself by imagining that the same could be said of my love—immeasurable.  However, I have been created in your image—the image of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. If that is true, and I believe it is, then I cautiously suspect that the real measure of my love is much different than I’ve ever reckoned it to be.  In your image, it only makes sense that the love that my heart and soul have to offer is much larger, deeper and longer lasting than anything I’m usually inclined to give it credit for, or even explore.  I believe this to be true; yet, help me in my unbelief.  I often feel that I don’t have much love to give.  At the same time, I do realize that the smallest amount of love can go a long way—if I am willing to take the risk to put it out there, express it, and demonstrate it  and  if I can just get past the fear.

Throughout my life, love has frequently felt like a dangerous experience for me—like inadvertently placing myself out on a limb that someone is already in the process of sawing off.  As a result, I’ve learned to “measure” out my love, with the care, caution and hypersensitivity of a frightened animal.  This is the condition of my heart and soul without the touch and transformation of your immeasurable love.  But now that your touch and transformation have come to me, I must realize that the measure of my love is no longer as it was.  The cowering, frightened animal is an illusion, not my reality.  The time has come for me to say “good bye” to the fear so I can live into the real, renewed measure of my love, both for you and for others.  It’s time for me to step into and rejoice in my own immeasurable love—the share of your divinity that you have placed within me.  If I promise to exercise the measure of courage that I possess, will you show me what it looks like for me to demonstrate the full measure of my love?

As always,

I am yours, and yours alone.

 

geese

by hovering love

“Even now, I know that whatever you ask God he will give you . . . I know that he will be raised up in the resurrection at the end of time . . . All along I have believed that you are the Messiah, the Son of God who comes into the world.” John 11:22, 24, 27 (The Message)

Martha has known and believed the truth about Jesus “all along”. She believes she’ll see her brother, Lazarus, again at the resurrection at the end of time (she’s obviously not a Sadducee). She also believes that God gives Jesus whatever he asks for. Lazarus has died and been in the tomb for 4 days. What hope is Martha harboring in her heart and soul? The yearning to have her brother alive again is powerfully strong, but would it ever occur to her to ask Jesus to restore Lazarus to life today—not just at the end of time? How far into the unimaginable does Martha’s knowledge and belief extend? Could she ever be bold enough to ask Jesus for such a thing to occur in the present moment?

I relate to Martha. Like her, I know and believe in Jesus as Messiah, Son of God. He is my Savior, Brother, Friend, and Shepherd. But how far into the unimaginable does my knowledge, belief and faith extend? Far too often, I feel that my knowledge, belief and faith are too limited by my earthly experiences of life and by my thoughts. Like most humans, my thoughts throughout the day frequently resemble a cocktail party of geese—honking loudly and persistently with little depth or any real thinking involved. With that kind of racket going on, how can anyone hope to think clearly and perceptively at all? I yearn to be set free from these limitations, but I also fear what I don’t know and have never personally experienced. How can I escape the “geese” and enter into that place where real thinking occurs and true insight is perceived—my own heart and soul?

As I sit still, quieting my own heart and mind, I can perceive more than I could otherwise imagine. Is it possible that deep down within Martha’s heart and soul, she knows what she wants (Lazarus to arise from death now) and she knows and believes that Jesus can make it happen? That sounds like both insight and perception. But her conscious thinking (geese) can’t relate or even consider this due to the limited earthly experience that she’s had (she’s only been taught and believes that resurrection occurs in the end times). However, her heart and soul know the truth, even if her thoughts are lagging behind. Without her realizing it, her heart and soul speak the truth of her desire and beliefs without her conscious thoughts having a clue to the truth and reality that her heart and soul possess. Like all humans, Martha needs to trust and live from her heart and soul (that’s what makes her human) and not from her geese-like thoughts or limited ability to logically reason (that’s what makes her earthly, and influenced by Western philosophy). Just like Martha, so do I! Only then will I be set free from my limitations. Only then will I experience the fullness of life in Christ that both Jesus and I yearn for me to have, live and be.

Show me how this transformation works, Jesus. Please enable my heart and soul knowledge, faith and belief to be the reality of my daily life experience. Amen!

 

 

 

question

by hovering love

“He said to them, ‘How is it then that David, speaking by the Spirit, calls him ‘Lord’?” Mt. 22:43 (TNIV)

Religion scholars were frequently asking Jesus questions in an effort to trap him with his own words. Such was the case in this passage of Scripture, but on this occasion Jesus asks them questions in return. He asks them whose son the Messiah is, and they respond by saying he is the son of David. Then Jesus asks the above question. The religion scholars have no answer. They don’t attempt to bait Jesus with any more questions, either.

I’m surprised that the religion scholars had no concept of Messiah being God Incarnate as a descendant of David—a person walking earth who was fully God and fully man. The answer to Jesus’ question above seems simple to me, but I know a much fuller version of the story, and from the position of hindsight. The religion scholars were doing their best to discern truth regarding someone they expected to come in the future and whom they expected to be fully human—just like all the other prophets who had come before. If they hadn’t been so concerned with possessing power and proving themselves to be “right” (and proving Jesus to be “wrong”), I wonder if they could have experienced an unanticipated illumination of truth from Jesus—one that they were not able to perceive or understand from Scripture alone? I hope so for my own sake! The intent and approach of the heart can make all the difference, and God sees the heart. Illumination seems to be given based upon the condition of the heart—or does it? As I recall, Caiaphas prophesied regarding the necessity of Jesus’ death (John 11:50) – he was illuminated, not because his heart was close to God but because he had the religious authority to condemn Jesus to death, thus fulfilling God’s plan for mankind. So, where does this leave me?

As I consider this, I hear God ask me a question. “You only know what I reveal to you, in accordance with my own purposes and plans. ‘How is it then’ that you perceive and understand anything about me? It is a gift, from me to you, and nothing that you can claim or take credit for. Receive what I give to you with humility and the full confidence that I desire to give you all that I have and am—because I love you, and because I want you to share in my plans and my glory.”

cat

by hovering love

“For against its will the universe itself has had to endure the empty futility resulting from the consequences of human sin. But now, with eager expectation, all creation longs for freedom from its slavery to decay and to experience with us the wonderful freedom coming to God’s children.” Romans 8:20, 21 (TPT)

I recently attended a one-day retreat at a local monastery, and I decided to arrive one day early so I could bask in some quiet solitude before the retreat began. I had been reading through the book titled Discernment by Henri Nouwen, and I took the book with me for more reading and reflection. As I pondered chapter 4, entitled Read the Book of Nature, I began to perceive Romans 8:20, 21 in a new way. I had understood that all of creation is “groaning” as it waits for Christ’s return and the renewal of all things, but I had never really considered nature’s experience of this. I read this verse in several Bible translations and I was struck by how The Passion Translation expressed its meaning. Phrases like “against its will” and “consequences” and “slavery” grabbed my attention and imagination. I know from my own life experience that it’s hard enough to suffer consequences as a result of your own poor choices, but to suffer the consequences of others’ poor choices really sucks big time—and this is what all of creation has been experiencing throughout time: consequences resulting from the choices of others. I have always loved and enjoyed nature, but this epiphany led me to a new and deeper empathy for nature.

I suddenly had a desire to walk among the grove of trees on the monastery grounds so I went outside for a stroll. As I walked through the trees, I began to wonder which ones where my age and which ones were older than I. I came to one tree whose trunk was too immense for me to reach around, and I knew that this tree was certainly my elder. I took a very good, long look at this tree. Winter had removed all of its leaves and I was able to notice its shape, places of scars and brokenness as well as the smaller branches of the previous summer’s growth. I saw the tree as a being, not a thing, and my heart broke. I found myself apologizing, out loud, to the tree for the consequences that it has experienced as a result of my choices and those of the rest of humankind. I asked for the tree’s forgiveness. As I stood with the tree, I felt a sense of inner peace, and I took that to mean that I had been forgiven. I felt very thankful for the solemn and sacred moment that we had shared.

I walked on through more of the trees, sitting under a few as I soaked up the thin warmth of the winter sun. I felt an amiable companionship between us all. As I walked back toward the building where I was staying, I passed an old building where the sisters make pottery. The door to the building had a small “cat door” in the bottom and I noticed a cat sitting just outside the door, soaking up the warmth of the late afternoon sun. At first she didn’t seem to notice my presence, but then her eyes opened. She looked directly at me, a look of stereotypical feline aloofness. I smiled and nodded in return. We gazed at each other for a few moments and then I spoke to her, out loud, as I had to the tree. I apologized for disturbing her peaceful enjoyment of the sun. She just looked at me, expressing nothing, as cats often do. Then I asked for her forgiveness, as I had done with the tree. For a moment or two, she continued to just look at me. Then she closed her eyes and slowly nodded her head up and down three times. She opened her eyes, gazing at me as she had done before, and then she turned and disappeared through the cat door into the pottery building. I was dumbfounded and amazed, but I felt no doubt that she also had forgiven me . . . just like the tree. I have no idea what the cat’s name is, but I have chosen to remember her as Grace. I felt humbled by the kindness of the tree and the cat, and the generous hospitality of all of nature to share its home with me. I have never felt more one with all of creation than at that moment! I intend to continue to ask nature, and all of creation, for forgiveness. To do so is the way of reconciliation and peace.

offer

by hovering love

“He asked this only to test him, for he already had in mind what he was going to do.” John 6:6 (TNIV)

Many who’ve “already decided what they’re going to do” will ask questions of others merely to obtain affirmation and support of their plan—not to obtain wisdom or advice regarding their plan. If the others express agreement, the person may feel justified in their decision. If the others disagree, the person may feel offended and defensive, choosing not to listen due to some excuse. Few people will actually listen to and consider the words of others once they’ve made up their mind to proceed in a certain manner. That’s why, when presented with these kinds of questions from others, my emotional response is often one of ambivalence and wariness.

Jesus has spent the day teaching and now he finds himself surrounded by a huge crowd of hungry people (at least 5,000 in number). He asks his disciple, Philip, where they can buy enough bread to feed these folks. Jesus is fully human, but he approaches earthly life from a heavenly perspective. He doesn’t ask his questions seeking affirmation or justification from Philip. Jesus perceives this to be a teaching moment—he asks for the sake of others, not for his own sake. I don’t imagine that Philip felt grateful to be put on the spot in this way; he may have felt rather ambivalent and wary, himself. But Jesus’ reason for questioning Philip causes my own emotions to change. My ambivalence and wariness become gratitude when I understand that Jesus’ purpose is to teach and encourage growth—in Philip and myself. Philip’s response reveals his belief that Jesus’ intention of feeding the crowd is not only crazy; it’s impossible as well. Another disciple, Andrew, weighs in by sharing his observation of a boy’s lunch but he ends with, “but how far will that go among so many?” Andrew’s openness to possibilities beyond his grasp is greater than Philip’s, but it’s still sadly lacking. He, too, suffers from the ambivalence (and doubt) that results from not being able to perceive the unlimited resources of God.

I frequently desire to be of assistance and service to others, but then I am easily discouraged and overwhelmed by the shear size of the need. Like Philip, satisfying the need as I see it can appear impossible to me. I desire to be more like Andrew—noticing what is readily at hand, and open to the idea that what is available could be of help. But even Andrew couldn’t take it far enough. Left to Philip, Andrew and myself, the crowd would have walked home hungry. Not so with Jesus—as he taught Philip and Andrew that day, he teaches me now:

“My beloved child, why do you allow yourself to become discouraged and overwhelmed. I never ask you to solve the entire problem, or to serve perfectly—I only ask you to willingly offer what you can. Never fear that what you have to offer is not enough. Give what you can with the joy of knowing that I delight in producing huge results from small offerings. The true value of what you have to offer is always immense in my hands. I multiply all that you give to meet the need and get the job completed well. Be encouraged, my child. I will always guide you and enlarge all that you offer to me.”

I want to take it farther than Philip and Andrew—I want to be able to believe that what’s available, in God’s hands, really is enough. How about you?