Finding Community in Chaos – 9 years later June 19, 2010

Nine years ago today, my dad went to be with Jesus. His sudden passing was an absolute shock; a stunning blow to the soul. And as I reflect back on all the events of the few days between his death and burial, one common theme rises from the ashes of tremendous loss and grief: Community.

I remember, of course, getting the call. Dad had suffered a major stroke in, of all places, Cape Cod. He and mom were vacationing. What I remember next is a colleague, Margaret, who put her own work aside to find flight options for me. When she quietly presented me a list of options almost an hour later as I was racing off to home, I was overwhelmed with gratitude that the details which are so difficult for me had already been sorted through. The hard work of flight planning was done. On to the next challenge.

So much of the travel is a total blur. I remember arriving at the hospital, though, to find nurses who had decided there were two patients behind a small curtain in intensive care: my dad, who was dying, and my mom, who was hanging on by a thread. I quickly saw that both of my parents were receiving the highest level of care as a nurse wrapped my mom’s shoulders in a warm blanket.

I also remember a pastor, whose name I cannot tell you anymore, who picked up from his regular flock when he heard of our crisis and made the trip to Cape Cod hospital to sit with my mom. She should not be alone in these hours. And thanks to this kind and gentle spirit, she wasn’t.

I remember saying goodbye to dad.

I remember the longest trip of my life, the car ride and flight home. I’ve traveled to Hawaii and California before, but the miles home from Cape Cod seemed to take days. When we arrived home, we were exhausted.  We’d been ministered to for several days by total strangers, and now we would be ministered to by the best of friends. Here is a sampling of what I remember in the foggy days that followed:

I can vividly see my mother-in-law clinging to the cabinets in the kitchen, perched on a counter top of my childhood home. She had descended shortly after our return with two good friends, Lynne Alexander and Nancy Janosik, to clean every nook and cranny of the home. These women worked quietly and diligently. They left the rooms sparkling.

My father-in-law showed up to cut the grass and manicure the lawn.

I remember shopping at Regency Square with my mom to try to find a fitting garment for mom to wear to my dad’s funeral service. All of this was so unplanned, and the right attire just wasn’t in her current wardrobe. I remember Regency so well because my friend Melinda Priest met us there. I remember that she shouldered the load of it all with me for a few hours, and I could breathe again.

I remember planning the funeral, picking the flowers, naming the pall bearers and putting together the program. People came out of the woodwork to help us.

I remember greeting what seemed like a million people at the funeral home. I also remember Melinda coming to pull me and my family, one by one, from the line, to make sure we had a break, something to drink, and enough food. Two good friends brought us Applebee’s takeout. I remember it.

I remember that my husband was an absolute rock.

The funeral is a real blur to me, but what I remember next is the graveside service. I sat in those funny little chairs under the shade of the tent on a day that must’ve been 100 degrees, seriously. I sweated it out while my dear father was lowered into a grave. And then I stood and turned to see my most favorite memory of the whole grueling week: standing behind me with their hands on the chairs were some of my dearest friends. The sun was shining so brightly behind them. When I close my eyes, I still see these friends: Jason and Melinda, Jay and Nicole, Wendy and Ben…

I remember a delicious meal at the church, prepared by a family friend. (Joyce, I’ll be you didn’t know you’d have to feed hundreds of people when you signed up for the task. I am overwhelmed with gratitude that mom and I didn’t have to put together a meal in our home for all of the well-wishers. You served us mightily that day.)

I am winding down now. But the last thing I think about is a cooler on my porch. I know it seems strange. My wonderful community of sisters didn’t let a day pass for over a month that the cooler wasn’t filled with something for me to eat. Cheryl Ingram, I remember your pot-pie with the cross delicately cut out of the top. Stacy, your spaghetti. Catherine, you organized it all so well. I never knew what was coming next; I only knew I didn’t have to think about it. This was an amazing gift of love and service.

This past week, I was looking again at Ecclesiastes 3. You know the passage I am talking about. It begins, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven,” and it goes on to list them. Life, death. Tearing down, building up. Mourning, dancing. Searching, giving up. And the list goes on.

After a lengthy sampling of life’s ups and downs, the writer simply states “He has made everything beautiful in its time.” (Ecc. 3:11)

For a long time, those words were difficult for me.

How is death beautiful? How can we celebrate concepts like mourning? Tearing down? Giving up?

In my own loss, time has brought perspective. Perhaps, through a community of both strangers and friends, God has woven beauty through the cords of loss and grief. Perhaps He showed His hand of mercy through the many who helped to carry this load.

Yes, for me, God has truly brought beauty from ashes. For each of you who played a part in this transformation by a generous word or deed, thank you.

I will always miss my father. Each of you has helped, though, to remove the sting of death. Because in each of you, I see the hope of Christ.

And I am reminded that I will be with my dad again. Because hope does not disappoint.

Mosaic art and God February 9, 2010

Mosaic art. You know what I’m talking about, even if you haven’t known until now what it’s called. (Art lessons here are free…)

One type of mosaic art is a picture that is made of pictures. From afar, you see one big image. When you get closer, you see that the image is, indeed, comprised of many, many small images. A few years ago, this picture-in-picture mosaic art started showing up everywhere.

It’s not surprising that we gravitate to this concept. We are unabashedly consumers at heart. A bit of this, a little of that…we are each building a picture, aren’t we? We are building a life. Something deep within resonates to the concept of a big picture that is comprised of many smaller ones.

But where is God in the mosaic art of life? Does He get a piece? A few pieces?

Really, the concept of God as a sliver of a mosaic doesn’t work at all – at least for me. No worries, I’m not going to tell you that God made the mosaic, or God is bigger than the mosaic, or even that God is the reason for the mosaic. (All of those things might be true, but I’m not sorting them out today.)

What I am thinking about is how God fits into the way many if not most of us, as consumers, approach spiritual life.

If we are honest, it is tempting to take small pieces of God (the pieces we like best, or those that work with our present reality) and put them into our mosaic. But when we take only pieces of our Great God, we are reducing one who is meant to be far more.

One of the hardest things about living in 2010 and having a vibrant relationship with the Lord is coming out of the tempting pattern of consumption, and allowing ourselves to truly be consumed. When we pursue relationship with God, we are not only taking, but we are, in a sense, being taken. Captivated, really.

So, I’m asking…can we slow down long enough to allow God to do this work in us? It is where we find the strength to build a meaningful mosaic, after all.

It is where we find the very breath to live.

Curator of ideas in a mindful museum February 5, 2010

I’ve been missing for a while. If you’re a reader, I’m sorry. I’ve been up to no good, playing Curator in the museum of my mind.

It’s the wrong approach. Now I’m sure of it.

Several months ago I ceremoniously stripped my idea tree in an attempt to “organize” my creative thoughts. Scads of colored paper with single words or phrases strewn around my knees, I scratched my head. Are these ideas even good? With that, I’d thrown open the door to the scrutiny of each thought.

Instead of building ideas up, I began tearing them apart. Don’t get me wrong; I’m a believer in making ideas fight for their lives…in due time. But to take an early concept and put it aside or even worse, pitch it, is simply wrong.

Think about it. I am an idea generator. This is a talent that God gave to me. Even on my worst days, I usually have one or two totally new concepts. They aren’t mine, really. They are gifts. Here is the big question: How does one appropriately steward the gift of thought?

The more I consider thought stewardship, the more I am sure that sifting these conceptions with such rigor when they are in infancy is no different from burying the creative gift I’ve been given.

Resolved: No more playing Curator of concepts, thoughts, and ideas.

It is a lousy job, really, and the yield is abysmal. Going forward, I will consider God the Curator, and simply develop that which comes. The best ideas will eventually take a life of their own, and those which weren’t truly inspired will surely fall of the page.

How about you? How are you stewarding the gifts you’ve been given?

Roots October 15, 2009

Recently, we got a packet of seeds from a popular children’s radio station. My little ones were elated, and could not wait to turn that little packet into a beautiful garden. On a (very) hot afternoon shortly thereafter, my husband and I worked with the kids to prepare the ground and lay out the seeds. Weeks passed. My five-year-old watered, and watered, and watered. Every few days, he would venture out to look expectantly at the location of our seeds-turning-flowers. Nothing came up. Absolutely…nothing.

Finally, in one of those tougher-than-nails moments for a mom, I had to break his little heart and speak the words. “Honey,” I told him gently, “These flowers aren’t going to come up. The seeds never took root.”

Roots, it seems, are all-important. Without them, nothing grows. They are the lifeline. It’s not surprising, then, that God speaks in His word about our roots.

Look at Ephesians 3:19, where we discovered the biggies. “And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love…”

The first step to grasping the height and depth of God’s love is being rooted in it. Deep roots keep us grounded. When we are grounded in the love of Christ, we begin to understand just how great His love for us really is. Becoming established in God’s love is the first key to unlocking the biggies in your life.

What are you rooted in right now? Do you have deep roots that enable great growth, or are your underpinnings looking a bit shallow? Ask God to show you how you can fortify your lifeline and become more rooted in His love today.

Fearless October 12, 2009

I’ve discovered a new fear in my life: stink bugs! I have been ministering this weekend in Middleton, MD, on a lovely mountaintop! The only thing that is not so lovely about this place are the stink bugs…they abound! At first, I was trying to avoid them, which is impossible, because there are so many. Now, I’m desensitized, I guess. Last night, I was just plucking them off of my jacket and pants…no joke! I still don’t like them, and I certainly don’t want to take any back home to Richmond.

Fear is tricky. Fear often keeps us from realizing our potential in Christ. Fear of the unknown, fear of the unspeakable, fear of the uncontrollable… it’s a powerful motivator, and its nature usually inspires negative momentum in the life of a Christ-follower.

A wise mentor once told me that all negative emotions ultimately can be traced back to fear. Think about that for a moment. Your anger, your shame, your sadness, your pain…all of the things you’d like to move past find their beginning in the emotion of fear.

When I feel fearful, I speak these words, “There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear…” (1 John 4:18) This is how God’s love is the ultimate biggie!

You see, the complete love of Jesus actually obliterates fear. So when Paul prays that we will be grounded in love so that we can grasp the height and depth of God’s love for us (see Eph. 3), his prayer actually helps us to overcome fear. When we grasp God’s love, we learn what it means to be fearless.

All sorts of things inspire fear in us. Perfect (or fully complete) love is the ultimate replacer. When love steps in, fear is driven out. God wants you to experience His love in a way that far exceeds what you can ask or imagine. Allow Him begin the work of replacing your fear with His love.

In which areas of your life would you like to experience more of God’s love and power, and less fear? Pray 1 John 4:18 over your personal situation today, and ask the Lord to reassure you of His love and power, helping you to let go of the fear you are feeling. He wants to do great things in your life! Don’t let fear hold you back!

The Force October 1, 2009

When a neighbor’s little boy brought over a toy light saber several months ago, my five-year-old son got his first taste of Star Wars. A curious taste it was! Ashton wasn’t sure whether to revel in the pretend power of it all or duck and take cover. To a young boy, the likes of Yoda and Luke Skywalker can be both exhilarating and overwhelming.

It’s funny that the characters alone have this effect on little Ashton. I am left to wonder what he’ll feel when he’s old enough to comprehend that the characters are engaged in the war of good fighting with evil, and that imaginary powers of “the force” are at work, too.

The truth is, even at 35, I’m still trying to understand the force. Not the Star Wars force; the real force that is at work in you and me as believers. We read about it in this week’s verse. It’s important to note that Paul is actually referencing the power he spoke about in the first part of his letter to the Ephesians:

Ephesians 1:19-20 “…and His incomparably great power for us who believe. That power is like the working of His mighty strength which He exerted in Christ when He raised Him from the dead…”

The very real force that raised Jesus from the dead is at work inside of us! Now that is serious power!

Maybe you are facing a situation where you see no opportunity. Perhaps in some area of life you feel defeated. Be encouraged.

The divine force which resurrected Jesus from the dead is at work in you today, making all things possible. So, live large today, and embrace the power of Christ in your life! May the Force be with you.

The Biggies September 29, 2009

Ephesians 3:20 “Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us…”

Have you ever heard someone pray this verse over a physical need? It might sound something like this:
“Oh, God – You have said You can do more than we can ask or imagine, so we are just trusting You to not only pay the bills, but fill up the bank account!”

Haven’t we all passionately prayed that way at one point or another?

Here’s the funny thing about Ephesians 3:20. Paul isn’t talking about the daily stuff of life, like what we’ll eat, or wear, or where we’ll lay our heads down at night. This verse is all about the biggies.

What, you might ask, could be bigger than a roof over someone’s head or food to fill their stomach? For the answer, let’s look at the verses that directly precede this verse:

Eph 3:16-19 “I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.”

Paul’s prayer puts first things first. If we can grasp God’s love and take hold of His power, we can meet life’s daily challenges with grace. Spiritual blessings like those that Paul is describing will carry us through any and every physical challenge that life may bring.

So, in what area do you most need to experience the overflow of Christ today? Can you identify a spiritual blessing that you would like to better understand or receive today? Ask God to meet you in the midst of your need and show Himself in a new way, immeasurably more than you can ask or imagine.

Chilled Gatorade and Other Oddities September 23, 2009

While checking into the hotel at my last speaking engagement, something funny happened. I was given the key to room 318.

I am not a light traveler these days. Between a 9-month-old baby and all of his paraphernalia, there is really nothing efficient about the way I roll. As I hopped onto the elevator (OK – grimaced and grunted while pushing a stroller, pulling a rolling suitcase, and carrying three other bags and my drink) several other hotel guests exchanged knowing glances. It is hard to travel with a small babe. Boy was I glad the hotel would supply the pack-n-play.

I found 318, and let myself in. (Replay the grimacing and grunting as I worked to steer all of the stuff through a doorway, which proved slightly smaller than the elevator.) I was immediately delighted with the room.

To my left, a spacious bath. I stuck my head in and informed baby Nate that we had lots of room! Things were looking good. I glanced straight ahead to see a smallish black bag sitting atop the hotel desk, and wondered how pack-n-plays had gotten so much more streamlined since I purchased mine just 5 years ago.

Then, I noticed it. What a nice touch! A fruity looking Gatorade was chilling in a freshly filled ice bucket just next to the black bag. Now this, I thought…this was service! How refreshing to see hotels helping guests replenish electrolytes after hours of harrowing travel.

As I moved in to take a closer look…alas, the black bag bore a tag. The tag had…wait! The tag had a gentleman’s name. Suddenly, it all came shockingly clear to me. I’d been given a key to another individual’s room!

I spun around and let out a sigh of relief that he was not behind me. It appeared I’d just missed him; perhaps he was working out.

He wasn’t the only one…I got quite a workout as I returned (third take on grimacing and grunting) to the front desk, where the young service-person was mouthing as the elevator opened, “Oh my gosh, I am SO SORRY!!” She was only off by three digits, I learned, as I made my way back up the elevator once more. This time, my key was to room 315.

Now, there must be a sermon illustration in this somewhere, right? Help me out…what is the spiritual lesson I am missing? While you are pondering it, I leave you with this final thought:

Next time you check in to a hotel, if you are greeted with a Gatorade on ice, Do NOT…I repeat, Do NOT drink it. You might just be in my room…

Harder than it looks August 29, 2009

Last weekend, Adam and I had a rare chance to sleep in while two of our three kids were with grandma. But, we didn’t do it.

I know, I know. What, you ask, could be better than rest on a cloudy Saturday morning, especially when your 9-month-old also agreeably sleeps in? Namaste Yoga. Yes, you read that right.

It wasn’t my idea, and since there were only two of us who could voice how we wanted to spend the morning, you can draw your own conclusions on who led us to the mats. I was highly skeptical that we’d get any sort of workout from this early morning class.

By the third pose, I was ready to leave. Nothing against yoga or our zen-like instructor whose perfect little curves were proof enough of the value of this workout. It’s just that I could hear the Latin grooves through the wall from my favorite Zumba class which was happening in the studio next door, and I found myself wanting to make a quick escape to my regular workout. Beneath my yoga mat, I could feel the pulsating beat. Carefree salsa trumpets were fighting with the singular oboe whose solemn song floated through the air of my studio. The trumpets were winning. I was ready to move, and even more ready to sweat.

I gave my hubby the sign that we should roll up our mats and save this experience for another day, but he didn’t move. I let out a little giggle as we turned onto our heads for the next pose; he didn’t bite. Adam was fully committed to this workout. So, I decided to try to come along.

Over an hour later, we were finally done. The truth is, it really wasn’t that bad, and some of my muscles later informed me that it was, in fact, a pretty good workout. So, what made sticking it out so tough?

The problem, a trusted advisor recently told me, is with my energy. I move through life at a pretty good clip, and I find it pretty tough to slow down. That is why I’d rather Cha-cha-cha than Downward Dog. I’m not very comfortable sitting still.

But, on this particular day, God spoke to my heart through my experience with yoga about the importance of solitude.

For me, solitude is hard work. For most of us, being alone with our thoughts and practicing the discipline of being still is harder than it looks.Why?

In this world, we are rewarded for production. Big bucks go to people who can churn out the most product, and kudos are reserved for the truly efficient workers. In the same way, I’m finding that subconsciously I’m almost always looking for a way to produce something from my interaction with God – a teaching, an illustration, something I can use. It’s painful to admit, but it’s true.

The problem is, most of the real work needs to be done in me rather than through me. Only by letting go of my desire to produce and calming the energy that wants to go, go, go, can I receive the blessing of solitude.

Lord, help me to be more concerned about what you will do in me than what you will do through me today.

Details, details, details… July 27, 2009

Yesterday, I almost missed something very important because I recorded the wrong time on my calendar for the event. Thankfully, I realized my error with just enough time to fix it. Even though I told those who knew of my mistake, “I don’t know how this happened…I never do this,” the truth is, I DO THIS. I always have the big picture in mind, and I have to work hard at those details. They are my arch-rival, my nemesis.

Usually, I come out on top. Yesterday, it was a close call. In general, I tend to sweat the details because I know that if I don’t give them attention, they can break me.

Last week, I was reading in Genesis about Noah. Here is a guy who had some serious details to work with. God gave Noah a verbal blueprint on what to build, the material to use, and how to build it. Repeatedly, the text tells us that Noah “did everything just as God commanded him.” (Check out Genesis 6:22, 7:5, and 7:16).

Noah is a case-study in full obedience. But there is this small statement that I’ve missed in the reading of this story previously. This time, it jumped out at me:  “…Then the Lord shut him in.” -Genesis 7:16

Not so remarkable on first reading, perhaps. But to me, it makes the story take a different spin. I can just see all of the animals and Noah’s whole family walking up through the giant door that God commanded Noah to build. When they are all safely onboard, Japeth looks at Noah and says, “Uh…dad…great ark. But, how about that door?”

Think about it! How can you close a giant door in the side of an ark from the inside? Maybe God had already disclosed to Noah that He would reach down and take care of this small detail; if so, it’s not recorded in the retelling of this story.

Personally, I like to think of Noah standing there on the ark, a bit perplexed, thinking, “Well, God, I did everything you asked me – but how about this door?” And then, God Himself reaches down to take care of it. It’s a small detail in the grand scheme of things – but with the door open, the ark would most certainly not have done it’s job. An open door would sink the ark!

I don’t know what you’re dreaming of, or what kind of big plans God has placed in your heart. He’s been speaking to me about seminary. I am getting excited, and most of me is ready to take a big leap of faith and start applying. There is a small part of me, however, that has concerns about the details, like how I’ll work classes into my schedule as a mom of three very young kids, and how I’ll pay for the education.

Details, really. Big to me, small to God. When I see God reaching down to close Noah’s ark, I am reminded of how He also is reaching down into our lives to open and shut doors, and to bring about the completions that would elude us without His touch.

Today, may you look for, and begin to see, His hand at work in your life.