Working on My Butterfly

Psalm 51:10, 12

“Create in me a pure [clean] heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.”  (NIV)

“God, make a fresh start in me, shape a Genesis week from the chaos of my life. Bring me back from gray exile, put a fresh wind in my sails!” (MSG)

Lent can be a pretty somber time. It is penitential, about self-examination and sacrifice, and as we move through the season in scripture, Jesus moves toward his final hour in the flesh. Yet every Ash Wednesday, after my priest marks our foreheads with ash saying, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return,” after we’ve said a litany of penitence and confessed our sinful nature, the choir sings Create in Me, a song based on the verses above.

Lent is also a time of rejuvenation. It is a time for growth and renewal. And at the end, as the sun and son rise on Easter morning, we can give birth to our new selves, move forward in new lives. Lent is a cocoon. Lent is a retreat for the soul.

Many people give up things for Lent while others add in something new. Growing up, my mom, sister and I attended church, and Mom would make the Lenten resolution for all of us. I swear it was the same every year: No chocolate. Every year, at some point during Lent, a bag of M&Ms would show up in the house.

As a kid, I didn’t understand the significance of giving something up and sticking to it through the season. Even though I attended a Catholic grade school and I am sure was taught about what Lent was supposed to mean, it had no tangible meaning to me. I couldn’t see or understand any of it, and our yearly chocolate routine proved that there were no repercussions for not keeping a Lenten resolution.

So why do we do it? In my current adult understanding, the idea is based upon the fasting that took place in biblical times. Fasting isn’t just about sacrifice, it’s also about turning more of the focus on God. Fasting can be penitential and can allow for heightened awareness. But perhaps most importantly, fasting is a conscious act. A person chooses to fast in order to repent or to grow in a relationship with God.

In my lifetime, I can only think of one time I successfully stuck to giving something up for the entire season of Lent. I have found that I am far more successful if I add something God-focused to my routine. For where I am on my journey, throwing in another devotional or reading a new book (or getting back to Little Meditations) will do more to bring me closer to God.

Besides, I don’t eat nearly enough chocolate these days for it to be a sacrifice to give it up. 

Lord, as I snuggle into this cocoon of Lent with you, let my daily prayer be those lines from Psalm 51: Create in me a clean heart, renew in me a steadfast spirit, restore to me your joy, and grant me willingness. May the things I add or remove with intention this season bring me ever closer to you and help me to live in your will for my life.

Amen.

Resistance is Futile, Anyway

2 Corinthians 4:8-9

“We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we're not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken.”  (MSG, italics mine)

I have been wandering in the wilderness.  There were only a few times I ventured very far from the pasture; mostly I was hanging out near the gate thinking about going in, or walking along the fence, but on the outside.  I kept my communication with God open, but I found myself resisting him.  I acknowledged my resistance, asked for forgiveness, then plopped down by the gate, where I sat for the last month, trying to summon the energy to stand, dust off, then run as fast as I could into the arms of my God.

The last three and a half months have been difficult.  A period of let-downs, loss, shattered hope, death, grief and confusion followed the catalyst event referred to in, Really, God?  Before Christmas there was anger.  After Christmas, I went into maintenance mode.  There was a lot of reaching for God through the final sickness and death of my grandmother, with whom I was very close.  Then came exhaustion and just moving from day to day through life’s busyness. 

Fatigued, I sat down just outside the gate of God’s green pasture.  I said, “I surrender.  Here.  I don’t want it, I trust you to do what needs to be done.  But I’m tired and I need to sit for awhile.”  And in my weakness, he found strength.  I haven’t yet run back into the lushest of the grass, but I am inside the gate.  My peace once again is not fleeting or easily disrupted, and I have amazed myself in this last week at how I have grown, at what God has done with me. 

It astounds me to no end how I can come and go and come and go.  I suppose it is human nature, and if I’ve learned anything from the Old Testament about human nature, it is that we come and go.  The Israelites are an extreme example, but reading through the Psalms and the stories of David, I find someone human to whom I can really relate. 

There are still troubles, but not nearly as many.  I still don’t know what to do, but I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that God knows what to do.  So I’m going to let him do it.  And as we move into this season of Lent, I will strive to reignite the flame that burned so brightly last fall. 

“For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God...” 2 Cor 4:6 (NIV).

Dear Lord, let Light shine out of the darkness in my life.  Help me to move forward in love with faith and trust, surrendering myself to you and believing that you are working good from this thing I call my life.  Grant me humility during this Lenten season and beyond.  Bring me ever closer to you and hold me in your heart.

Amen.

*In the spirit of no alle...lu’s during Lent, my equivalent happy face after the Amen will be on vacation until Easter.     

Lifted Up

1 Peter 5:10

“The suffering won’t last forever.  It won’t be long before [the God of all grace] this generous God who has great plans for us in Christ – eternal and glorious plans they are! – will have you put together and on your feet for good [will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast].”  (1 Pet. 5:10, MSG [NIV])

I’ve been hanging out in the desert for the past week or so.  I didn’t feel completely disconnected from God, but I knew I wasn’t where he wanted me to be.  He provided for me, then I ran with a couple of things on my own and actually kind of shut him out.  I kept talking to God some, but I wasn’t really listening for any response or direction. 

I’ve written recently about God allowing things to happen in my life for the purpose of teaching me about myself. I also outright prayed for him to break me because I know it can take drastic measures to hammer a point home with me sometimes. 

God was listening.  He watched as I wrote one day about a part of my life I always take back where I needed to learn patience, then watched as less than a week later I had already forgotten and was charging forward on my own. 

The series of events that took place just over this past weekend alone were so perfectly orchestrated to break me in such a precise manner that I was standing on the rim of hell before I lifted my hands high and God picked me up.  In a matter of moments, I went from being a completely and utterly terrified mess to resting in God’s arms, at peace, lighter than I have felt yet.  I could not have looked at the whole situation and seen how many things God was going to use it to heal.  It was impossible to know until it happened just how he was working it all in me. 

I feel God everywhere, but I feel especially connected to him at the beach.  I ended up on an empty beach Sunday evening, which is where this moment of healing took place.  God took me out there, when I had no idea I was even near a beach, and it just so happened to be a beach I have only been to one other time – another time God took me there for healing.

Standing at the water’s edge, I watched the sun set and felt God lift me up as I reached for him.  He restored peace and quiet to my soul, and took yet more things from me that have caused me pain.  I felt a renewed sense of joy, and when I stepped back, I was blown away by how symbolic my footprints in the sand were.  I’ve never had footprints quite like these.  Instead of being imprinted in the sand, they were extruded, almost as evidence of the weight God had lifted from me, evidence that he had lifted me up.

I’m thinking I should hang these footprints up as a reminder.  God’s grace is beyond measure and his mercy never ceases.

Amen!  :D



Because I Said So

Zechariah 10:7

“I know their pain and will make them good as new.  They’ll get a fresh start, as if nothing ever happened.  And why?  Because I am their very own God, I’ll do what needs to be done for them.”  (MSG)

I used to live in a world of darkness and pain.  It eventually became easier to believe that I was defective in a way that could not be healed than to try method after treatment after long-shot, losing hope with each failed attempt that I would ever find a way out of the dark. 

Plenty of those bleak years I spent yelling at God, cursing God, blaming God.  He created me, he made my life, therefore he was responsible for my pain.  After the first major shift in my universe when I stopped moving away from him and began my journey moving toward him, more often than not my simple plea was a weak, “God, help me, please.”

I had gotten to the point, however, that I didn’t even believe I deserved to be healed.  I had decided that I was being punished, that I somehow deserved my darkness and the aching of my soul.  So I didn’t really believe God would heal me, I just desperately wanted him to ease my pain. 

I rarely considered God’s purpose in all of it.  Toward the end of my depression I was so utterly lost that I couldn’t summon up any kind of purpose for my life and everything I had been through.  I knew God had his reasons and I wanted to trust in his plan, but I was tired.  I was so tired.

Today, as I sit and think about how life was then, I stop, as I often do, and simply say, “God, thank you for my life.” 

He brought me out of the darkness.  When it was time, when I was ready for whatever he had in store for me, he reached into the depths of my soul and not only eased my pain, but healed it.  I was, indeed, made new.  And I returned to my life to find myself in a position to make a fresh start.

God will do what needs to be done for me, but it’s up to me to trust that he has the plans for the architecture of this life.  It is not for me to understand, and while he may grace me with revelations, I must be content in not always knowing why things happen.

A line from a morning prayer I wrote reads: “May I always remember that you have the top of the puzzle box and trust that each piece you place next is chosen at that time for a reason or reasons which may remain unknown to me.”

I don’t ask why very much anymore.  Coming into my new life, that was one of many huge changes.  I no longer sat in the dark and cried, “Why, God?”  But if I look at this verse and follow its, “Why?” then I see the answer plain and simple.

So if I find myself tempted to ask God, “Why?” about something, I pray that I can remember the answer as he said it through Zechariah:

“Because I am [your] very own God, I’ll do what needs to be done for [you].”  (Zech 10:7b, MSG)

Trust me.  I’ve got things under control.  --God

Amen!  :D

Singin’ Don’t Worry

Psalm 34:4, 6

“God met me more than halfway, he freed me from my anxious fears.  When I was desperate to God, I called out, and God got me out of a tight spot.”  (MSG)

I’m small in stature, so it’s very easy for me to fit into tight spots.  I lost count a long time ago how many times God has gotten me out of them.  My life, for the better part of it thus far, was lived finding tight spots and not paying much attention to God.  But when I got stuck, I called out, and he was always there.

The life of tight spots is a very anxious life.  Living in today’s society, even, it can be difficult not to feel anxious.  In spite of lessons that over and over teach us we need not worry (i.e. Matt 6:25-34), so many things today drive us onward to fear.  “Be afraid, the world is in peril!” the news shouts.  “This recession will never end,” headlines scream. 

But apart from the world in general, there is a whole host of things about we make ourselves anxious in day-to-day life.  It is exhausting to live in constant worry.  And it is in no way productive or helpful in getting us through our days.

God indeed freed me from my anxious fears.  Just yesterday I stopped to take notice of what he’s done for me in giving me his peace which passes all understanding.  I am open to it most of time now, only closing off to it when I’m having one of my doubtful moments or being tempted by a tight spot. 

In a many faceted situation, I was graced with an opportunity to make some extra money by jumping onto a project with an approaching deadline.  Given all the nuances of the situation, in the past I would have been anxious about a number of things walking into this.  Instead, with the grace of God, I peacefully and cheerfully walked in and then quickly settled in, never feeling out of place or unable to do the task set before me.

It was incredible.

What was even more incredible was the fact that since God’s peace has started to become almost second nature to me, I didn’t even realize until halfway through the day how I would have felt had I been in this position even six months ago.

God doesn’t stand on one side of the beach and wait for me to travel the whole distance to him.  The moment I take a step toward him, the moment I reach out my arms in his direction, he comes running toward me, arms open wide.  He’ll meet me more than halfway, and when he scoops me up in his arms and I’m wrapped up in his loving embrace, I am reassured and have no reason to be afraid.

Amen!  :D