Another moment from youth camp:
It is Saturday evening. A group of adults gather in the middle of the empty Tabernacle. Without the rows of chairs, which are now stacked against the walls, it is a cavernous space.
Josh, the youth director, guides the adults in a prayer inviting God to come and fill the room with His presence. Soon the air echoes with the voices of men and women calling on God to come and change the lives of the youth who will soon enter this place.
At the same time, from behind a curtain near the stage, the worship team gathers. Pastor Ryan leads the group in a prayer for God to move in a mighty way. His voice is joined by the other members of the group as they simultaneously raise their voices in prayer.
From both sides of the curtain voices mingle in a heartfelt cry for God to reign down on us. There is an air of expectation. We know God will show up and we are ready.
Young people begin to enter the room and are hugged by the adults who stand waiting. The hugs break down invisible defenses. The youth talk and laugh as they wait for the rest of the students to take their seats. They are a relaxed and happy bunch.
Most of the worship band has taken their place on stage. Surrendered to the Father's will; they watch, they pray, and they wait. Mark, the worship leader is still back stage behind the curtain.
Mark is stretched out on the floor, deep in prayer. The very air around him vibrates as he communes with the Holy Spirit. I pray for his strength and obedience knowing he is being prepared for the word he will speak tonight.
Finally, Mark takes the stage and straps on his guitar. He begins singing the opening lines to a worship song. Even though I am behind the curtain, I can sense that the youth are unfocused and not ready to worship. The air is thick with the presence of the Holy Spirit and yet they have not recognized His presence.
I am grieved. I am frustrated. I am impatient. A part of me wants to step up on the stage, grab the microphone and demand that they be still. In my mind, I cry out to each of them,
"Do you not know what is coming? Indeed, Who is already come?"
In an instant, I am filled with remorse. I seek the hard concrete and lie down, face first in repentance.
I am sorry, Father. Forgive me for my judgmental thoughts. Remove them now for I am of no use to You in this state of mind.
I will trust Your timing, Lord. And I do trust Your plan for the lives of each person in this room. I am here in agreement with You. Do what must be done in me, Lord. Do what You must in each of us, Lord. We need You. Call us to Yourself.
I stay on the floor. I can't get up. My role for this evening is submissive prayer. Numb from the cold concrete, eyes closed and with no sense of time...the rest of the evening's events run together.
Mark stops singing and begins talking. Restless teenagers settle down. Mark shares a story of how God recently made Himself evident through his young daughter, Lauren. The story is simple yet powerful. It brushes against that hungry place inside each of us that longs for the loving touch of Abba, Father.
More words from Mark give way to worship with song. Music gives way to Pastor Ryan's voice. God's Word is opened. Scripture is proclaimed.
Ryan shares the story of a pivotal moment in his life. He paints a vivid picture with words. When he is done, the pleading eyes and the determined voice of a little orphan boy from Africa sear my soul.
"Papa, allez." Father, let's go.
I know that little boy. I am that little boy. Ryan has given words to the inexpressible longing that is always with me...a child who longs for the Father...who knows that a life apart from Him is no life at all. I find myself weeping and praying,
Yes, Papa. Allez. Let's go. Take me with You.
I sense God acknowledging my tear stained face and I am comforted by His presence. But even as He wipes my tears away, He multiplies them. I understand. I am no longer crying for myself but for the very ones I condemned just a short time earlier.
Papa, allez. Take us with you.
At some point in all of this, invitations are issued:
"If you would take Jesus as your Lord and Savior..."
"If you have already accepted Jesus Christ and are ready to follow him...to live a life that matters..."
Hearts are opened and searched. Egos are poured out and emptiness revealed. The Spirit is invited to fill in the void.
In an overwhelming response, they say, "yes." Youth and adults, alike, say, "yes," to the Father, "yes," to the Son, and, "yes," to the Holy Spirit.
"Yes," to a life that matters.
"Yes,"to a life of sacrifice and meaning.
"Yes"to becoming a part of the Movement of God.
And because of their response, the ground shifts in the room.
I may not have seen a thing but stretched out on the floor, behind the curtain, I feel the earth move. I hold on tight as the entire room tilts with the redistributed weight of youth and adults who move closer to the cross.
They said, "Yes."
And we will never be the same.
"Then Jesus said to his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it." -- Matthew 16:24-25
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Sword of the Spirit
(Photo taken by Alessio Miceli )
The building designated for worship is located at the far end of camp. Rows of beat-up plastic chairs line the concrete floor. Rough wood paneled walls are painted white. Save for the large wooden cross that stands to one side of the stage, there is nothing in this room to identify it as God's house.
Adult volunteers begin to arrive ready to serve. Many are greeted with a question,
"Do you have a favorite Scripture?"
"Yes, why?"
"Would you write it down on this index card so it can be placed on one of the walls?"
A Bible is opened. The pages of God's Holy Word are stirred. Men and women bow their heads in thoughtful concentration. Busyness is stilled as spirit reaches out to Spirit.
The smell of magic markers fills the air as letters take shape on paper. Letters give way to words and words to full sentences.
One by one the completed cards are taped to the walls, window sills and doorways.
God's Word copied out by hand.
The Father is pleased.
More blank cards are requested. How do you limit your favorite Scripture to just one? The movement of the Spirit is palpable as God's promises take their rightful place around the perimeter.
Walking to the center of the room, I slowly turn in a circle while surveying the walls. Every five to ten feet, a card testifies to His goodness, His plan, His love, and His victory. We are surrounded, enveloped, hemmed in by the very Word of God.
An ordinary room. Ordinary walls. Ordinary 4x6 notecards. Ordinary, no longer.
Come, Lord Jesus, come.
"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power." -- Ephesians 6:10
Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." --Ephesians 6:17
Friday, January 22, 2010
Broken For You
"And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, 'This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.'" -- Luke 22:19
I had the privilege of serving at a church youth camp this past weekend. Over 350 jr. and sr. high students were in attendance. The weekend was filled with the kind of moments that just beg to be shared with others.
Sunday night was a Communion Service. We gathered in the Tabernacle. A sea of youth sat on the concrete floor while most of the adults (100+) opted for chairs located along the sides and back of the room.
Josh, the Youth Director, began the service by talking about how each of our faith journeys has been paved by the sacrifice and faithfulness of the men and women who have gone before us. We stand on the shoulders of spiritual giants...not one of us stands alone.
He spoke of the 60 years of ministry of Pastor Greg Robertson and his wife Donna...of the spiritual legacy they have established in the name of Jesus Christ. Pastor Greg - tall, white haired, wise and faithful, with a voice so deep it makes me think of the prophets of old. Donna - lovely, Donna, always smiling with a joy that radiates from within.
Josh presented Pastor Greg with a plaque from the youth ministry and to Donna he gave a lovely bouquet of flowers. We prayed a blessing over this holy man and holy woman. It felt good and right to do so. Pastor Greg spoke of his love for us, "You are my family." We felt loved and we loved them, in return.
Then Pastor Greg conducted the Communion Celebration. And I say celebration because that is exactly what it was. Pastor Greg held the microphone as he spoke the words over the bread and juice. When he was finished speaking, he set the microphone down and slowly picked up the loaf of bread. You could have heard a pin drop as he raised the bread slowly, reverently up to the heavens.
We waited as he prepared to break the bread as we have seen done so many times before. Only this time was different. Pastor Greg grasped the ends of the loaf and instead of gently splitting it apart, he tore the bread in a way that sent crumbs flying every which way.
He literally ripped it in half.
With strength.
With violence.
With finality.
I involuntarily sucked in my breath at the image of Jesus' body being broken for me.
And then the oddest thing happened...
the youth began to clap and cheer...spontaneous, joyful applause...as if they couldn't help themselves.
Thank you, Jesus, for your body which was broken for us!
The room returned to silence as Pastor Greg set down the bread. All eyes watched in anticipation as he picked up the cup filled with juice. Ever so slowly he raised it in thanksgiving. Once again, the room broke out in clapping and cheers.
Thank you, Jesus, for your blood which was poured out for us!
That night, Pastor Greg led us in a Communion celebration that I will not forget. Never before have I seen youth celebrate communion with such joy and thanksgiving. Never before has the sacrifice of Jesus Christ been so clear to me. My heart is full of gratitude.
Thank You, Abba, for the spiritual giants who have gone before us on this journey of faith. Thank You for their selflessness, their faithfulness, and their obedience that has helped pave the way for me to follow You. And, thank you, Jesus, for your body broken for me that my sins are forgiven. I am eternally grateful. May I never forget the joy of this special day. In your name I pray, Amen.
I had the privilege of serving at a church youth camp this past weekend. Over 350 jr. and sr. high students were in attendance. The weekend was filled with the kind of moments that just beg to be shared with others.
Sunday night was a Communion Service. We gathered in the Tabernacle. A sea of youth sat on the concrete floor while most of the adults (100+) opted for chairs located along the sides and back of the room.
Josh, the Youth Director, began the service by talking about how each of our faith journeys has been paved by the sacrifice and faithfulness of the men and women who have gone before us. We stand on the shoulders of spiritual giants...not one of us stands alone.
He spoke of the 60 years of ministry of Pastor Greg Robertson and his wife Donna...of the spiritual legacy they have established in the name of Jesus Christ. Pastor Greg - tall, white haired, wise and faithful, with a voice so deep it makes me think of the prophets of old. Donna - lovely, Donna, always smiling with a joy that radiates from within.
Josh presented Pastor Greg with a plaque from the youth ministry and to Donna he gave a lovely bouquet of flowers. We prayed a blessing over this holy man and holy woman. It felt good and right to do so. Pastor Greg spoke of his love for us, "You are my family." We felt loved and we loved them, in return.
Then Pastor Greg conducted the Communion Celebration. And I say celebration because that is exactly what it was. Pastor Greg held the microphone as he spoke the words over the bread and juice. When he was finished speaking, he set the microphone down and slowly picked up the loaf of bread. You could have heard a pin drop as he raised the bread slowly, reverently up to the heavens.
We waited as he prepared to break the bread as we have seen done so many times before. Only this time was different. Pastor Greg grasped the ends of the loaf and instead of gently splitting it apart, he tore the bread in a way that sent crumbs flying every which way.
He literally ripped it in half.
With strength.
With violence.
With finality.
I involuntarily sucked in my breath at the image of Jesus' body being broken for me.
And then the oddest thing happened...
the youth began to clap and cheer...spontaneous, joyful applause...as if they couldn't help themselves.
Thank you, Jesus, for your body which was broken for us!
The room returned to silence as Pastor Greg set down the bread. All eyes watched in anticipation as he picked up the cup filled with juice. Ever so slowly he raised it in thanksgiving. Once again, the room broke out in clapping and cheers.
Thank you, Jesus, for your blood which was poured out for us!
That night, Pastor Greg led us in a Communion celebration that I will not forget. Never before have I seen youth celebrate communion with such joy and thanksgiving. Never before has the sacrifice of Jesus Christ been so clear to me. My heart is full of gratitude.
Thank You, Abba, for the spiritual giants who have gone before us on this journey of faith. Thank You for their selflessness, their faithfulness, and their obedience that has helped pave the way for me to follow You. And, thank you, Jesus, for your body broken for me that my sins are forgiven. I am eternally grateful. May I never forget the joy of this special day. In your name I pray, Amen.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Shield of Faith
"In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one." -- Ephesians 6:16
Last night my phone rang. Caller ID let me know that it was a friend. I answered my phone in anticipation but was stopped in my tracks by the exhaustion in her voice.
"Do you have a minute? I have had a really hard day and need to talk to someone."
I listened as she briefly recounted the difficulty of the day's events. The Lord had placed her in a position to speak to many fearful people in a short period of time. In conversation after conversation, she was called to remind others to take their eyes off of overwhelming circumstances and to focus on God's goodness and sovereignty.
As she spoke to me I envisioned my friend on the battlefield, in full battle gear, holding up her shield of faith. One by one she shielded herself and those she spoke to from all the flaming arrows of the evil one. She stood firm and each fiery dart was extinguished as it landed. But there was no time to remove any of the arrows from her shield. They were coming too fast and furious.
By the end of the day, the added weight of the arrows had taken their toll. Her knees were buckling and her arm was unable to support the now heavy shield. That is when she called me.
I prayed for my friend using words supplied by the Holy Spirit. I praised our God; who gives and takes away. I lifted high the name of the Lord who has authority over all things. I bound the work of the enemy and loosed the blessings of God - all in the name of Jesus Christ.
I prayed words of promise to stand over my friend with my shield of faith as she rested on the battlefield. I agreed to cover her until she could remove the accumulated arrows and, once again, pick up her shield for herself.
There was power released in that prayer. It was tangible on both sides of the phone. It was evident in the immediate relief in my friend's voice. Almost 24 hours later, I am still amazed at the way God moved in that moment.
I confess that this thing called prayer remains a mystery to me. I do not ever expect to understand how it works. I only know that it does. Praise God that this is so!
Abba,
You are so good. Thank you for the armor of God: the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, feet fitted with readiness from the gospel of peace, the helmet of salvation, the sword of the Spirit and the shield of faith (Ephesians 6:14-17). Lord, I lift up my brothers and sisters in faith who are weary from fighting the good fight. Strengthen them, Lord. And show me when I am to offer my own shield of faith so they may have time to catch their breath, remove old arrows, and stand firm, once again. In the mighty name of Jesus, I pray. Amen.
Last night my phone rang. Caller ID let me know that it was a friend. I answered my phone in anticipation but was stopped in my tracks by the exhaustion in her voice.
"Do you have a minute? I have had a really hard day and need to talk to someone."
I listened as she briefly recounted the difficulty of the day's events. The Lord had placed her in a position to speak to many fearful people in a short period of time. In conversation after conversation, she was called to remind others to take their eyes off of overwhelming circumstances and to focus on God's goodness and sovereignty.
As she spoke to me I envisioned my friend on the battlefield, in full battle gear, holding up her shield of faith. One by one she shielded herself and those she spoke to from all the flaming arrows of the evil one. She stood firm and each fiery dart was extinguished as it landed. But there was no time to remove any of the arrows from her shield. They were coming too fast and furious.
By the end of the day, the added weight of the arrows had taken their toll. Her knees were buckling and her arm was unable to support the now heavy shield. That is when she called me.
I prayed for my friend using words supplied by the Holy Spirit. I praised our God; who gives and takes away. I lifted high the name of the Lord who has authority over all things. I bound the work of the enemy and loosed the blessings of God - all in the name of Jesus Christ.
I prayed words of promise to stand over my friend with my shield of faith as she rested on the battlefield. I agreed to cover her until she could remove the accumulated arrows and, once again, pick up her shield for herself.
There was power released in that prayer. It was tangible on both sides of the phone. It was evident in the immediate relief in my friend's voice. Almost 24 hours later, I am still amazed at the way God moved in that moment.
I confess that this thing called prayer remains a mystery to me. I do not ever expect to understand how it works. I only know that it does. Praise God that this is so!
Abba,
You are so good. Thank you for the armor of God: the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, feet fitted with readiness from the gospel of peace, the helmet of salvation, the sword of the Spirit and the shield of faith (Ephesians 6:14-17). Lord, I lift up my brothers and sisters in faith who are weary from fighting the good fight. Strengthen them, Lord. And show me when I am to offer my own shield of faith so they may have time to catch their breath, remove old arrows, and stand firm, once again. In the mighty name of Jesus, I pray. Amen.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Mystery
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Friday morning - I am up by 5. Instead of going to Chapel for the morning service I decide to stay put and watch the sunrise. Bundled up to ward off the chill, I settle into a chair and wait.Out in the darkness, masses of turkeys begin sounding off from opposite sides of the camp. How to describe a turkey call? It is unlike anything else I have ever heard. Rusty, grating notes are dotted with occasional gobbles. After five minutes or so it becomes comical...like they are having a pep rally in the dark. "We've got spirit, yes, we do. We've got spirit. How 'bout you?!" After fifteen minutes or so, they stop and the silence is deafening.
Two owls begin a dialogue. They, too, take turns hooting back and forth to one another. One voice is deep and strong. The other voice is higher and belongs to a smaller bird. I wonder...are they mates? or parent and child? I find myself smiling at their steady conversation.
The sun rises. Without fanfare. Hmm. I had expected to be dazzled but instead the colors are muted and hazy. Disappointed, I hear myself thinking (rather ungraciously),
That's it? I skipped Chapel for that?
Grabbing my journal, I head to the third floor of the Big House where there is a small steel staircase that leads to "Mt. Sinai" -- the lookout tower on the roof. It has become a part of my routine to spend some time here before I leave. From this vantage point I can see for miles in all directions.
Looking out over the palm trees and the retreat grounds, I try to pinpoint the shift that has taken place within me since yesterday morning, when I woke up giddy with joy. It started during my walk on The Way of Peace..continued back in my room with the unwelcome pop-up image that made its way into my mind...and persisted after my nap when I woke up with the strong desire to go home. I may have resisted the urge to leave, yesterday, but my staying came with a price. Now I feel weighted down...somber, serious, heavy with something I can't name...
As I ponder the last 24 hours, fog rolls in before my eyes. The heavy clouds of moisture are traveling so low that their droplets touch my skin as they move past. Within minutes the retreat grounds are shrouded in a blanket of mist. I can see the sky above the fog but the grounds are no longer visible.
I decide the morning fits my mood or maybe it is my mood that fits the morning.
I came seeking God's voice. What did I hear? What have I learned?
I long to fly but I am afraid.
Pruning by the Father is a necessary part of growing.
Flying and dying go hand-in-hand when you follow Christ.
Peace is a byproduct of seeking God's direction.
Seasons in the wilderness allow God to reveal new beginnings.
Healing comes through intentional reflection.
Duty is a part of being a servant of Christ.
Spiritual lessons cycle us higher/closer to the Father.
"The reality of the unknown is fear." -- Father Kelly
"The reality of the Mystery of God is peace." -- Father Kelly
My soul needs regularly scheduled Sabbath time.
Giving thanks dispels fear and anxiety and invites God's peace.
Yesterday's Chapel message runs through my mind: Wisdom trumps everything, including evil, because it comes from God. It occurs to me that what I am feeling, right now, is the weight of wisdom. The lessons the Lord has taught me these past few days are heavy with the fullness of a deeper understanding...
I must be diligent about naming my fears and claiming God's truth over them.
Flying requires surrender and focus on Christ.
Evil is real and knows my name but will always flee at the name of Jesus Christ.
Jesus Christ is with me, always.
I serve, love, and belong to the God of Job. He doesn't have to explain Himself to me.
The Great I AM is my Father.
Living a life of faith requires embracing the mystery of God.
I have the sense that God is waiting for me to respond to all that He has revealed.
I am distracted by the sound of stirring birds. The palm trees to my right are filled with a dozen or more roosting vultures. Each tree's branches bend under their load.
One by one, the birds launch from their resting site. They flap their heavy wings; looking awkward and clumsy. The air pulses from their efforts to stay afloat. In a matter of seconds, though, they find their rhythm and the air current that allows them to soar.
I watch as they move into the distance and begin their lazy spirals in the sky...their view of the ground completely obscured. The Lord uses the image to issue an invitation to me. The Spirit whispers in my ear,
"Come fly with Me. Explore the mystery of Me. Do not be afraid to venture into the unknown. I will be your Guide."
Yes, Lord, take me flying.
Impressions from Henri Nouwen's Sabbatical Journey come to mind. I appreciate this holy man's brilliance (his gifting, really), for putting the experiences of God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit into words that an ordinary person, like me, can grasp. But the thing that I most closely identify with is his transparency; his willingness to reveal his own needs and insecurities even in the light of knowing Christ.
I want to be this kind of writer for you, Lord. I want my struggle to be plain even as my hope and faith in You is evident. Show me how...
With that declaration, I climb down the stairs and head to my van. The fog cocoons my vehicle as I drive away from the retreat center. I leave as I came...slowly and with anticipation...only this time, the wisdom of Father Kelly's words ring in my ears,
"The reality of the Mystery of God is peace."
"Pray also for me, that whenever I open my mouth, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly
make known the mystery of the gospel,
for which I am an ambassador in chains.
Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should."
-- Ephesians 6:19-20
Monday, December 28, 2009
Thanksgiving
Thursday - It is 5 a.m. and I am wide awake. Bedtime, the night before, was 7:45. Nine + hours of sleep. No wonder I feel so rested.
I throw a blanket around my shoulders and head to the veranda. The turkeys call back and forth to one another in the dark. The angry squeal of a javelina sends chills up my spine and propels me back inside. Until it is time to leave for morning Chapel, I review the finished list of life events/Scriptures from the past four years.
During Chapel time, two messages resonate with me. "The Kingdom of God is within you" from Luke 17:21. The other is from the Book of Wisdom; even as darkness must yield to light, all things must yield to wisdom. Wisdom...it is one of the things I continually seek from God.
Lord, please grant me wisdom that my words would bring You glory.
At breakfast, after nearly bumping into two different people, it is apparent that I am moving at a different speed than everyone else in the room. Joy...life is bubbling up inside and spilling over. I cannot seem to help myself. There is nothing gentle and/or slow about my movements. I do not linger over my meal. I cannot. I am too full of energy. It takes everything in me not to shout aloud!
Back in my room, the rising sun casts beckoning rays of light just beyond the screen door. I step onto the veranda and position the rocking chair to take maximum advantage of the sunbeam. With eyes closed, I rock and concentrate on the purity of the light bathing me in its warm glow. My spirit sings in union with the Holy Spirit and before I know it the better part of an hour has come and gone.
The sunbeam has moved on. It is time for me to do the same. I grab a map of some of the retreat center's many trails and head outside. There are two trails I am interested in this morning: Derek Ahabah (Way of Love) and Derek Shalom (Way of Peace).
I follow the main path for twenty minutes or so until I reach the path for Derek Ahabah. Its name, The Way of Love, is based on Song of Songs 8:5-7. Verses six and seven, in particular, speak to me as they bring to mind one of my favorite worship songs.
"Place me like a seal over your heart,
like a seal on your arm;
for love is as strong as death,
its jealousy unyielding as the grave.
It burns like blazing fire,
like a mighty flame.
Many waters cannot quench love;
rivers cannot wash it away.
If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love,
it would be utterly scorned."
God's love for me...my understanding is so limited. My love for Him...is so small in comparison. I have so much to learn about love.
Jesus, show me how to love like you.
Eventually the lengthy, sprawling loop meets up with the main trail. I follow the path markers to Derek Shalom. The Way of Peace is based on Psalm 29:11,
"The LORD gives strength to his people;
the LORD blesses his people with peace."
The trail for this path is much more difficult than the prior one. It fades into the grass and sandy turf and, more than once, I wonder if I am going the right way. Instead of finding peace, I am becoming stressed out. My stomach is now upset and my need for adventure evaporates.
It seems that everytime I turn around a bend in the path there are a large group of turkeys, nearby. At first, I wonder if the same group is moving around and popping up somewhere else along the path but the group size keeps changing... 11, 15, 13.
Seeing the turkeys makes me think of the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. It also brings to mind Father Kelly's words from the other morning, "The Lord isn't thanked enough."
The Spirit prompts me to focus on giving thanks. I force my mind away from my physical discomfort and mental distress. My litany of thanks is forced and has a desperate edge. Seeing a new group of turkeys encourages me to keep walking and giving thanks. After a few minutes, it gets easier.
According to the map, I am close to the halfway point. The path is supposed to swing around a trail marker and head back towards the main trail. In reality, the path completely evaporates. The irony does not escape me: for me, there is no peace on the The Way of Peace. I turn back and retrace my steps.
I don't get it, God. Have I failed You, somehow? Should I have been willing to walk forward without a path or a clear sense of direction? It seems my peace is strongest when I am certain I am clearly on Your path. Is that the lesson You had for me, today?
Silence.
Eventually, I arrive at the Big House. Lunch is a welcome reward after the 1-1/2 hour walking adventure. Unfortunately, my stomach does not agree. I try reading as a distraction but it doesn't work. I feel awful, vulnerable, strange and suddenly, very, very tired.
I curl up on my bed hoping a nap will help. I can barely keep my eyes open. Unbidden, a disturbing image flashes through my mind; it is pornographic in nature. Ugh. Without hesitation, I rebuke the image in the name of Jesus Christ. In the same breath, I claim the blood of Jesus over myself and fall fast asleep.
Thirty minutes later, I wake up feeling disoriented and awful. My knuckles ache. My body is stiff. A thought voices itself in my head,
I want to go home.
Then it corrects itself,
I want to be home. Now.
That awful image that made its way into my mind just before I fell asleep has irritated me. I know the attack for what it is: warfare. I am also determined not to be ruled by it. I send up a prayer of thanks for all of those who are praying for me and my family while I am on this trip.
I am agitated and restless but not in the good way of this morning. Needing something to do, I pack up everything but the absolute necessities needed for the remainder of my trip. My journals, extra clothing, all of it gets packed and placed in my van.
The physical act of packing has spiritual implications, as well. My work, here, is done. Or maybe my ability to work is done. Whatever the case, I have heard enough. God has given me plenty to process in the days and weeks to come.
I spend the remainder of the afternoon and evening reading Henri Nouwen's book, Sabbatical Journey. After so many days of concentrating on my own, it is refreshing to read about someone else's journey of faith. I find myself copying more than one of his quotes into my journal:
"We are called to be fearless people in a fearful world."
"Our parents, brothers, and sisters do not own us. Without leaving them it is hard to fully become free and listen to the One who called us even before we were born."
"That's the loneliness of a mystic. Having seen and experienced what cannot be expressed in words and still must be communicated."
The sky turns dark outside. I ponder the events that have taken place since I woke up this morning. What a strange day it has turned out to be. It is my last night in this place and I find myself full of gratitude...glad that I came, glad for what I've learned, glad to be going home in the morning, glad for the journey of faith that is still ahead of me...
I throw a blanket around my shoulders and head to the veranda. The turkeys call back and forth to one another in the dark. The angry squeal of a javelina sends chills up my spine and propels me back inside. Until it is time to leave for morning Chapel, I review the finished list of life events/Scriptures from the past four years.
During Chapel time, two messages resonate with me. "The Kingdom of God is within you" from Luke 17:21. The other is from the Book of Wisdom; even as darkness must yield to light, all things must yield to wisdom. Wisdom...it is one of the things I continually seek from God.
Lord, please grant me wisdom that my words would bring You glory.
At breakfast, after nearly bumping into two different people, it is apparent that I am moving at a different speed than everyone else in the room. Joy...life is bubbling up inside and spilling over. I cannot seem to help myself. There is nothing gentle and/or slow about my movements. I do not linger over my meal. I cannot. I am too full of energy. It takes everything in me not to shout aloud!
Back in my room, the rising sun casts beckoning rays of light just beyond the screen door. I step onto the veranda and position the rocking chair to take maximum advantage of the sunbeam. With eyes closed, I rock and concentrate on the purity of the light bathing me in its warm glow. My spirit sings in union with the Holy Spirit and before I know it the better part of an hour has come and gone.
The sunbeam has moved on. It is time for me to do the same. I grab a map of some of the retreat center's many trails and head outside. There are two trails I am interested in this morning: Derek Ahabah (Way of Love) and Derek Shalom (Way of Peace).
I follow the main path for twenty minutes or so until I reach the path for Derek Ahabah. Its name, The Way of Love, is based on Song of Songs 8:5-7. Verses six and seven, in particular, speak to me as they bring to mind one of my favorite worship songs.
"Place me like a seal over your heart,
like a seal on your arm;
for love is as strong as death,
its jealousy unyielding as the grave.
It burns like blazing fire,
like a mighty flame.
Many waters cannot quench love;
rivers cannot wash it away.
If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love,
it would be utterly scorned."
God's love for me...my understanding is so limited. My love for Him...is so small in comparison. I have so much to learn about love.
Jesus, show me how to love like you.
Eventually the lengthy, sprawling loop meets up with the main trail. I follow the path markers to Derek Shalom. The Way of Peace is based on Psalm 29:11,
"The LORD gives strength to his people;
the LORD blesses his people with peace."
The trail for this path is much more difficult than the prior one. It fades into the grass and sandy turf and, more than once, I wonder if I am going the right way. Instead of finding peace, I am becoming stressed out. My stomach is now upset and my need for adventure evaporates.
It seems that everytime I turn around a bend in the path there are a large group of turkeys, nearby. At first, I wonder if the same group is moving around and popping up somewhere else along the path but the group size keeps changing... 11, 15, 13.
Seeing the turkeys makes me think of the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. It also brings to mind Father Kelly's words from the other morning, "The Lord isn't thanked enough."
The Spirit prompts me to focus on giving thanks. I force my mind away from my physical discomfort and mental distress. My litany of thanks is forced and has a desperate edge. Seeing a new group of turkeys encourages me to keep walking and giving thanks. After a few minutes, it gets easier.
According to the map, I am close to the halfway point. The path is supposed to swing around a trail marker and head back towards the main trail. In reality, the path completely evaporates. The irony does not escape me: for me, there is no peace on the The Way of Peace. I turn back and retrace my steps.
I don't get it, God. Have I failed You, somehow? Should I have been willing to walk forward without a path or a clear sense of direction? It seems my peace is strongest when I am certain I am clearly on Your path. Is that the lesson You had for me, today?
Silence.
Eventually, I arrive at the Big House. Lunch is a welcome reward after the 1-1/2 hour walking adventure. Unfortunately, my stomach does not agree. I try reading as a distraction but it doesn't work. I feel awful, vulnerable, strange and suddenly, very, very tired.
I curl up on my bed hoping a nap will help. I can barely keep my eyes open. Unbidden, a disturbing image flashes through my mind; it is pornographic in nature. Ugh. Without hesitation, I rebuke the image in the name of Jesus Christ. In the same breath, I claim the blood of Jesus over myself and fall fast asleep.
Thirty minutes later, I wake up feeling disoriented and awful. My knuckles ache. My body is stiff. A thought voices itself in my head,
I want to go home.
Then it corrects itself,
I want to be home. Now.
That awful image that made its way into my mind just before I fell asleep has irritated me. I know the attack for what it is: warfare. I am also determined not to be ruled by it. I send up a prayer of thanks for all of those who are praying for me and my family while I am on this trip.
I am agitated and restless but not in the good way of this morning. Needing something to do, I pack up everything but the absolute necessities needed for the remainder of my trip. My journals, extra clothing, all of it gets packed and placed in my van.
The physical act of packing has spiritual implications, as well. My work, here, is done. Or maybe my ability to work is done. Whatever the case, I have heard enough. God has given me plenty to process in the days and weeks to come.
I spend the remainder of the afternoon and evening reading Henri Nouwen's book, Sabbatical Journey. After so many days of concentrating on my own, it is refreshing to read about someone else's journey of faith. I find myself copying more than one of his quotes into my journal:
"We are called to be fearless people in a fearful world."
"Our parents, brothers, and sisters do not own us. Without leaving them it is hard to fully become free and listen to the One who called us even before we were born."
"That's the loneliness of a mystic. Having seen and experienced what cannot be expressed in words and still must be communicated."
The sky turns dark outside. I ponder the events that have taken place since I woke up this morning. What a strange day it has turned out to be. It is my last night in this place and I find myself full of gratitude...glad that I came, glad for what I've learned, glad to be going home in the morning, glad for the journey of faith that is still ahead of me...
"Do not be anxious about anything,
but in everything,
by prayer and petition,
with thanksgiving,
present your requests to God.
And the peace of God,
which transcends all understanding,
will guard your hearts and your minds
in Christ Jesus."
Philippians 4:6-7
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Need
Wednesday - After my time with Father Kelly I am acutely aware of God's faithfulness to give me what I need...even if it isn't what I asked for. I thought my reason for coming to this retreat center was so that I could hear God more clearly in regards to "the book." It is why I willingly made the 475 mile drive. As it turns out, God's reasons for my being here are different than mine.
We aren't going to talk about the book at all, are we, God?
Peaceful silence fills the void.
No surprise, really. I'm not even disappointed although I don't know if I would have felt the same way on Monday or Tuesday. We have covered a lot of stuff since my arrival. I rest in the knowledge that the instructions and words for the book will come when God decides so. For now, there are other things He has planned for this time away. In my head, I modify my original goal:
My reason for coming to this retreat center is so that I can hear God more clearly. Period.
Before dinner, I head outside for a stroll. I follow the paved road that winds its way around the compound. A large group of turkeys are scratching and pecking at the ground. Eleven turkeys. Amazing! They keep one eye on me and the other on their work but they do not run or fly away. I am grateful for the opportunity to study them up close. I wish I had a camera.
A while later I hear someone following me. There are other retreat participants on site so I am not alarmed. But after awhile, curiosity takes hold and I turn around for a look. Imagine my surprise when I see that my shadow is of the four-footed variety. A magnificent buck stands less than 20 feet away. We study each other for a moment.
Turning around slowly, I resume my walk. Once again, the footsteps continue behind me. After another 20 feet I cannot resist the urge to stop and look. He stops, as well. He waits. The beauty of this creature moves me from deep within. I am thrilled beyond explanation. I cannot stop smiling.
Eventually, I leave the buck behind and step off the path to explore the estate's historical chapel and family cemetery. It is the place where the original owners, the Kenedy family and workers, worshiped and held weddings, funerals and baptisms. I study the monuments and the grotto that are within the cemetery and wonder about the people who used to live here.
My growling stomach reminds me that it is almost time for dinner. I head back towards the Big House. The path takes me directly alongside the buck who has stepped into the grass for a snack. I hold my breath and walk within eight feet of him. His head bows under a full nine point rack. He grazes without fear. I silently praise God as I marvel at the buck's impressive features. Unbelievable!
That experience, alone, would be enough to carry me through a full day. Add that to my time with Father Kelly and I am full to overflowing.
That's more than enough, Lord. Thanks for today's gifts of beauty and wisdom.
God uses that moment to remind me that I am like a sponge. I can only hold so much before I reach my saturation level. I ponder this for a moment and the spiritual application is clear. I have been a sopping wet sponge for a long time...the multi-paged list of bullet points sitting on the desk in my room testifies to this.
God is using this time and place to empty me from the fullness of these past two years. He is literally squeezing the water from my soggy soul. No wonder I didn't feel as if I could hear him clearly back home. I was too full to hold anything else.
So, if I am to stay healthy and effective in my ministry with You then I must decompress at least once a year. I need an extended block of time for prayer and silence in order to hear You, in order to restore my soul, in order to prepare for the next stage of my journey. It isn't just something I want...although I do want it. It is something I need. Isn't it, Lord? It is critical to my walk with You.
I vow to build time into my yearly schedule as a part of honoring the Sabbath and my God. With the vow comes a peace that blankets me in communion with my Maker.
"If you keep your feet from
breaking the Sabbath
and from doing as you please
on my holy day,
if you call the Sabbath a delight
and the LORD's holy day honorable,
and if you honor it by not going
your own way
and not doing as you please
or speaking idle words,
then you will find your joy
in the LORD,
and I will cause you to ride
on the delights of the land
and to feast on the inheritance
of your father Jacob.
The mouth of the LORD has spoken."
Isaiah 58:13-14
We aren't going to talk about the book at all, are we, God?
Peaceful silence fills the void.
No surprise, really. I'm not even disappointed although I don't know if I would have felt the same way on Monday or Tuesday. We have covered a lot of stuff since my arrival. I rest in the knowledge that the instructions and words for the book will come when God decides so. For now, there are other things He has planned for this time away. In my head, I modify my original goal:
My reason for coming to this retreat center is so that I can hear God more clearly. Period.
Before dinner, I head outside for a stroll. I follow the paved road that winds its way around the compound. A large group of turkeys are scratching and pecking at the ground. Eleven turkeys. Amazing! They keep one eye on me and the other on their work but they do not run or fly away. I am grateful for the opportunity to study them up close. I wish I had a camera.
A while later I hear someone following me. There are other retreat participants on site so I am not alarmed. But after awhile, curiosity takes hold and I turn around for a look. Imagine my surprise when I see that my shadow is of the four-footed variety. A magnificent buck stands less than 20 feet away. We study each other for a moment.
Turning around slowly, I resume my walk. Once again, the footsteps continue behind me. After another 20 feet I cannot resist the urge to stop and look. He stops, as well. He waits. The beauty of this creature moves me from deep within. I am thrilled beyond explanation. I cannot stop smiling.
Eventually, I leave the buck behind and step off the path to explore the estate's historical chapel and family cemetery. It is the place where the original owners, the Kenedy family and workers, worshiped and held weddings, funerals and baptisms. I study the monuments and the grotto that are within the cemetery and wonder about the people who used to live here.
My growling stomach reminds me that it is almost time for dinner. I head back towards the Big House. The path takes me directly alongside the buck who has stepped into the grass for a snack. I hold my breath and walk within eight feet of him. His head bows under a full nine point rack. He grazes without fear. I silently praise God as I marvel at the buck's impressive features. Unbelievable!
That experience, alone, would be enough to carry me through a full day. Add that to my time with Father Kelly and I am full to overflowing.
That's more than enough, Lord. Thanks for today's gifts of beauty and wisdom.
God uses that moment to remind me that I am like a sponge. I can only hold so much before I reach my saturation level. I ponder this for a moment and the spiritual application is clear. I have been a sopping wet sponge for a long time...the multi-paged list of bullet points sitting on the desk in my room testifies to this.
God is using this time and place to empty me from the fullness of these past two years. He is literally squeezing the water from my soggy soul. No wonder I didn't feel as if I could hear him clearly back home. I was too full to hold anything else.
So, if I am to stay healthy and effective in my ministry with You then I must decompress at least once a year. I need an extended block of time for prayer and silence in order to hear You, in order to restore my soul, in order to prepare for the next stage of my journey. It isn't just something I want...although I do want it. It is something I need. Isn't it, Lord? It is critical to my walk with You.
I vow to build time into my yearly schedule as a part of honoring the Sabbath and my God. With the vow comes a peace that blankets me in communion with my Maker.
"If you keep your feet from
breaking the Sabbath
and from doing as you please
on my holy day,
if you call the Sabbath a delight
and the LORD's holy day honorable,
and if you honor it by not going
your own way
and not doing as you please
or speaking idle words,
then you will find your joy
in the LORD,
and I will cause you to ride
on the delights of the land
and to feast on the inheritance
of your father Jacob.
The mouth of the LORD has spoken."
Isaiah 58:13-14
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