names

Winter.  It gives us reminders of the ebb and flow of God's world and that in some ways our lives resemble these rhythms.  Times of dormancy, times of growth.  Seasons can bring out our greatest fears and our most robust celebrations.  But in all seasons, around every corner God knows our names.  He knows our name because he named us.  He calls us by name.  He doesn't call us by the names we've grown accustomed to.  Names that we can give ourselves out of our own deficits.  The ones that seemed so appropriate because they fit our temporary circumstances.  Names we've discovered in the midst of our failures.  The prophet Isaiah reveals God's name for his people, "My delight is in her" (Isa. 62).  Isaiah's words grab our attention: "Do not fear, for I have redeemed you" (Isa. 43).  Everyday we wake up to a world that can shake us down and undo us.  Pausing to listen to God's voice reminds us that even though we live in a context where things fall apart and people forget people, He remembers us.  It's part of the redeeming work of our Lord. And this is no mere remembrance, it comes with delight.  I believe contemplating on the delight God has for us breaks down the threads of confusion and surrounds us with the clarity of truth:  God wants to be near his children. He takes delight in us because that's who God is.  And when we let this truth rest on our souls it changes us.  Even in winter, we learn to move about with faith and patience because the warmth of God's nearness causes our false names to melt away.  

pointing to Jesus

Last Sunday was our sixth week of holding church services in our garage.  It was a chilly morning, but with the door closed and heaters running, we were comfortable.  A handful of neighborhood kids tumbled in halfway through our communion service, bright-faced and eager to participate in church.  At some point, one sweet young girl raised her hand, and I couldn’t have dreamed up what she said…

“Last night, I was thinking about what you guys did for us during your movie night, and then I started thinking about God and Jesus.”

Whaaaaat??!!  My heart jumped and flipped and just about burst out of my chest.  Two nights before, we had hosted a movie night in the garage, just a simple, low-key evening of hanging with 16 kids, a neighbor mom, a fun movie and a few treats.  Nothing over-the-top, but it was so meaningful to her.  To be welcomed in, to have a place she belongs, to know she is loved.

The vision God has laid on our hearts is coming to life, and I’m humbly grateful to be called into this work.  To have the beautiful privilege of a front-row seat as hearts are being drawn to Jesus.  To bring the Light of His love to the people of this neighborhood. 

Despite the fears and doubts that sometimes overwhelm, God has used moments like this to consistently remind us that He is making a way for His Church to be raised up in this neighborhood.  That if we will continue to listen to His voice and be faithful to His vision and calling over us, He will do the work.  We are simply the vessels. 

When we were in Kenya in August, we were part of a revival conference in Nairobi.  During one of the services, there was a call for individuals to come up for prayer with clergy.  Throughout the prayer time, we sang the chorus “Ancient Words, ever true, changing me, they’re changing you…” over and over.  This moment was so memorable for me.  It was a needed reminder that it is the Gospel that saves people.  It’s the love of Jesus that transforms lives.  It’s not our movie nights or donuts on Sunday mornings or the worship music we sing.  It’s the Word of God, His saving grace, the power of His love.  Movie nights and donuts and music are all good things.  But the most important thing is pointing people to Jesus.  This is why we do what we do.

Laying down our expectations…but not our vision.

Sunday, September 13 marks a momentous day in Wisconsin.  Sure it’s NFL’s opening Sunday and the Packers just happen to be playing the Bears.  Admittedly, that alone is enough to make any Wisconsinite get the cheese out.  But tucked away in a 3-car garage just off Park Avenue in Racine WI will be the first worship service of Parish House Anglican.  As the priest of this newly minted congregation I’m excited and confused all at the same time.  Julie and I moved to our current home 3 1/2 years ago eager to begin a church here.  Of course we never imagined it would begin in our garage.  To be honest I’m not sure what we imagined.  But since our move we’ve continued to feel the Lord pulling us in a single direction…it just so happens that direction is where we normally store our lawnmower.   So this Sunday, Parish House Anglican will take its place among Apple Inc, Hewlett-Packard, The Walt Disney Company, Mattel, Google, and Yankee Candle, and will set up shop, albeit with a Kingdom-orientation, in our garage. 

And we’re excited to step out on this new missional adventure.  But as a priest I’m fighting off this one question: “What if nobody shows?” It bothers me that I’m not asking other questions like, “How will we park the church bus in our driveway?” or reading books on techniques to learn a massive number of names all at one time.  Instead I feel like I’m about to become the pastor of the smallest church in America.  Then I’m reminded of the wisdom a Kenyan priest I recently met in Nairobi who said, “Most anything really needed in the world will start small.”  I’m struck by how quickly the vision God gives us can shrink in the midst of anxiety and fear.  Anything new, especially a parish, will by necessity rewrite our expectations as we discover the depth of the life of God in our midst.  I know that being missional is code for relinquishing expectation.  And while that’s uncomfortable for me, I’m finding it necessary because the vision God gives won’t fit inside the probabilities that linger in the world of our own prediction.  It’s when God’s vision leads that we can lay down anxious expectancy and let the love of God draw us into those peculiar places we would have never gone before.  If you follow, you never know, you may find yourself worshipping next to your snow blower.

take heart

This morning I was reading the end of Mark 6, the story of when Jesus walks on the water.  He’s on land by himself, praying.  He sees the disciples struggling in the wind and waves.  He steps out on the water, fully intending to walk right by them.  Yet when they cried out in fear, He comes to their boat to comfort them.  “Take heart; it is I.  Do not be afraid.”  He gets in the boat, and the wind ceases.  He accompanies them the rest of the way to shore.

I wondered what this passage was saying to me.  As we step out in faith to minister in our community, I sometimes find myself shaken by fears and doubts.  Do we have the resources, the strength, the energy, the courage to carry out the vision God has given us? 

Here’s what I heard as I read and re-read and meditated on these verses.  Jesus sees our fears.  He knows what we’re up against.  He has faith we can handle it, so He intends to allow us to move through the storms, praying and walking beside us, leading the way.  He’s before us and behind us.  But when we reach that place where we give in to our fears and cry out, He not only hears us, He meets us where we are.  He comforts us and stills the storms.  He gets in the boat with us and gives us strength and faith to keep going.

So yes, there will be struggles.  There will be times when we ask ourselves what we’ve gotten into, how will we make this work?  In those times, He will always show up.  He’s there, keeping an eye on the wind, walking alongside to see how we are holding up, listening for our cries, responding with divine peace and comfort, and empowering us to move forward.  “Take heart; it is I.  Do not be afraid.” 

remembering

Over the summer I attended two memorial services within 2 weeks of each other, one for my husband’s 83-year-old grandfather, the other for my 91-year-old grandmother.  These two people were so dear to their families and friends and left behind beautiful legacies.  As I listened to the words spoken at their memorial services, I heard recurring themes of love.  They knew how to love, they loved others deeply, they taught their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren what love is.  I don’t know if I can think of a better tribute than to be known and remembered as someone who loves well. 

During all the traveling to and from the services, I thought quite often about the words spoken at memorial services.  I know I’m not the only one who leaves a funeral wondering what will be said about me when I’m gone.  I sincerely hope that I am remembered for loving well.  And there’s more. 

In the midst of a recent conversation, my husband mentioned that we need to be sure we are allowing God to use us and the gifts He’s given us in the way He desires.  That comment came back to me as I was considering the mark I hope to leave on the world around me.  Yes, that’s it – to be able to look back over my life and have confidence that I did everything I could to use my gifts in the building of His Kingdom.

In the throes of everyday life I’ve found that it’s incredibly easy to lose sight of this.  It’s hard to see how my gifts can be used while I’m loading the dishwasher for the third time in a day, or digging through the laundry mountain for a tiny pair of clean socks.  Or when I’m dealing with a frustrating situation at work or struggling to keep my eyes open to finish an assignment for school.  But the truth is, God has gifted me for each of these situations.  He has placed me here, right where I am, for a purpose that only I can fulfill. 

I love these verses from Isaiah 51: “Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness, you who seek the Lord: look to the rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug.”  Look to the rock from which you were hewn.  Does that hit you like it did me when I heard it read one Sunday morning?  The New Testament reading that went with it was a familiar one from Romans 12: “Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them.”  Put the two together, and it’s a beautiful picture of our Creator’s sovereign handiwork.  We are hewn in His image, “dug” from this covenantal family founded on a legacy of faith.  Using our gifts means we are living out of that legacy of faith, trusting that the God of grace will place us where we are needed. 

Sometimes we are required to make sacrifices to fully exercise our gifts the way God intends.
Sometimes we can get tripped up by the mundane activities we find ourselves doing day in and day out.
Sometimes we have to pass through waters, or walk through fire.
Sometimes we have to let go of what we think we want so God can show us our true desires. 

But there is great joy in following the path He forges for us, realizing His steadfast, loving, merciful presence as He goes before us and behind us.  It’s not always straight and smooth and carefree.  But He is with us.  And He knows what He’s doing with us.  He gave us gifts so that we would use them.  He places us in situations for which He has equipped us to be His hands, His feet, His voice, His light.

This is how I want to be remembered, for pursuing righteousness, for seeking the Lord, for looking to the rock from which I was hewn.  For allowing God to use the gifts He has given me for His honor and glory, as a uniquely placed instrument in the building of His Kingdom.  Yes, this is how I want to be remembered.  

Praise be to God for the grace that covers us daily, for His unfailing love and new mercies every morning, and for the hope we have in Him.  

abundant life

You know that feeling when you have a huge project you’ve been asked to tackle?  That overwhelming feeling that it’s even bigger than you realized?  That it’s going to be really hard, backbreaking work and is going to take a really. long. time.

You know that feeling of pure joy when you complete the first step, and then the next, and then you start to see real progress as you move along?  Even though it’s been tough and there have been days you want to give up.  Even when unexpected roadblocks come along and stop you in your tracks.  Keeping your eye on the prize, on the ultimate end result.  It keeps you going, day in and day out.  

I’m learning that this is what kingdom work is like.  We are laborers in a neverending harvest field that reaches farther than we can imagine.  We pour sweat and shed tears as we till, plant, water, and weed, sometimes enjoying the fruits, sometimes moving on before they’re ripe.  We are “like living stones being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood (1Pet. 2:5),” groaning as we bear the weight required of us, but standing firm on the victory won on the cross by Christ our Cornerstone.  We toil with the relentless joy of the Lord as our tower of strength, tediously but eagerly adding one stone a time.  

And just when we think we’ve had enough, when the pain and weariness reach to the deepest part of our beings, we find refuge in the shadow of His wings.  When fire threatens to overcome us and we don’t know where to hide, His wings of love and mercy are there, sheltering us, protecting us, calming us.  When we feel like we are drowning in the rushing river of life and its daily struggles, He lifts us up and carries us to peaceful waters.  Even when storms cause the wall we just constructed to crumble, He fills us with unearthly power, supporting our hands to lift yet another stone and rebuild what has been broken.  He gives rest when it’s needed, and strength beyond measure to complete the work to which we have been called.  After all, He tells us in John 14 that “whoever believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do.”  He certainly will not leave us helpless and bereft, unable to carry out those “greater works.”  

This is life.  The abundant life we have because He came (John 10:10).  This grace-filled rhythm of work and rest, always seeking Him, listening to Him, following Him, walking with Him by faith.  Loving Him with our whole hearts, souls, and minds, and loving our neighbors as ourselves.  Strife will inevitably come, more often than we would like, bringing dark clouds of hurt, hopelessness, despair.  But when we walk by faith, letting mercy lead the way, His peace that passes all understanding will prevail, showering His radiant light over us, light that pierces straight into our souls.  Light that illuminates a path marked by “a drop of grace … in every footprint (Rich Mullins).”  A path well-traveled by our Helper, the Spirit of Truth, who walks alongside each one of us so we are never alone, showing us The Way that will ultimately lead us to eternal victory in our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (John 14).

So choose life.  Choose to feast on the abundance of work, rest, faith, love, mercy, grace, healing, light and peace.  Choose the Way and the Truth.  Choose Life.  

awakened to freedom

In one of my recent posts, I wrote about being consumed, about opening my hands and my heart to let the Spirit enter in.  This could be part two of that post.  I’ve been meditating and praying a lot on what this means, and I’ve been seriously amazed at what it can mean.  Over the past several years, I have known I’m missing something in my spiritual life.  I was kind of floating along, playing the part, listening to others and wondering what I’m doing wrong.  I would read certain Scriptures and long for the words to come alive in me, although I really had no idea what that meant.  I felt like I should be further along than I was.  I’ve been raised in a Christian home, went to a Christian college, married a guy who is passionate about his faith and has now been called to holy orders.  Shouldn’t I have “gotten it” by now?  Shouldn’t I be one that others look to as an example, instead of blindly stumbling my way through each day, hoping no one sees the real me? 

A handful of experiences lead me to realize that I had built some pretty thick walls around my heart and soul.  And I had an army protecting those walls.  I was desperate to dictate who and what was allowed in, all the time wondering why I felt so restrained and uneasy.  I determined to do something about it.  I was going to figure out how to make things better.  I prayed about it…every now and then.  I bought books, read blogs, faced hard days with a fierce resolve to get it right.  And I failed.  Over and over.  Nothing worked.  I was so frustrated.

Fast forward to last year.  The Lord started to work on me.  At first it was in ways I didn’t even notice.  But then there were a few key events that were refreshing slaps in the face.  I slowly started to understand that I needed to let Jesus tear my walls down and be my strength.  I remember one evening our Bishop was praying over me, and he told me that he sensed that for my whole life I had been walking alongside a rushing river, and now it was time to jump in.  Yes!  That’s what I want, what I need. 

Not long after this experience, on my way home from a women’s retreat (which was one of those key events), as I drove I had an image of chunks of me falling away, and I was frantically grabbing the pieces and holding them tightly to me, literally trying to hold myself together.  It was a vivid picture of the rigid pattern I had developed in my life, working so hard to look like I’ve got it right, to move through each day in complete control.  I tearfully recognized the need to let Jesus pick up those pieces and hold them for me.  To let the Holy Spirit guide me, to relinquish the control I clung to.

But with this realization came intense fear.  Doubt.  What will happen if I let go?  What will I be asked to do?  To give up?  What if I don’t have what it takes?  What if I fail?  Can I really trust that He will provide?  Too many questions.  Too many unknowns. 

Then, at a retreat for the clergy and spouses of our diocese, I was so blessed by a word the Lord spoke to me.  During a time of prayer, our Bishop prayed that he knew there were some people present who needed to open their hearts.  Of course, I identified with that right away.  This had been on my mind for several months, but I was still coming to terms with it.  So I began to open my heart right there.  I started telling God that I knew He was speaking to me, but that fear had been holding me back, and I didn’t know what to do with that.  He spoke clearly and powerfully to me through the prayers of others, through my own prayers, and through His Word.  He reminded me that He will show me the way, He will provide more than I could ever ask or imagine, that I need not fear, only believe. 

So, I’ve jumped in the river, and the freedom I’m experiencing is incredible.  The other day I came across one of the books I purchased in my earnest attempt to fix myself.  It was about the fruit of the Spirit.  As I put it away, I joyfully thanked God for this journey I’ve been on; for the place I am now; for the opportunity to be in communion with Him, Father, Son, Spirit; for the fruits He produces in us when we allow Him to enter in.  For the freedom from feeling like I have to figure it all out and make the fruits take root in my life. 

Now I’m not saying it’s all sunshine and roses.  As Fr. Eirik so eloquently reminded us in his recent sermon, just like Thomas, we often don’t trust easily.  We need to come just as we are, humbly, honestly, admitting our faithlessness.  And while He will give us marvelous signs to show us that He is enough, the true blessing comes when we believe.  When we are in communion with Him, with our defenses down, just being in His presence will allow Him to renew us into the fullness of life, in the hope and reality of His resurrection.  Because He has overcome, all of our shortcomings, our fears, our doubts.  And His wounds are the way to the Father.  The way to abundant life, a life of victorious freedom in the Holy Spirit.