No Platitudes Please

plat·i·tude [plat-i-tood, -tyood] noun
1. a flat, dull, or trite remark, especially one uttered as if it were fresh or profound.

I have been very open about my struggle with infertility over the past three years. In that course of time, I have heard every platitude imaginable: "just relax and it will happen", "God's timing is perfect", "when you stop wanting it so much, it will happen", "you can always adopt", etc.

Platitudes used to make me angry, but I have come to realize that people just don't know what to say sometimes, especially if they have not personally walked the path you are walking. People are uncomfortable with pain and unanswered questions and they just want to "fix" it and make it better. The most comforting words I've received are, of course, from people who know this struggle personally--they have been a balm to my weary soul. Of course, the "I am so sorry" and "I am praying for you" responses are helpful too--just to say, "I know you are hurting and I am here" is really all that needs to be said (just a hint to those who may be looking for things to say to anyone who is grieving).

Since we found out our first (and probably only) round of IVF was unsuccessful yesterday, people have offered me all kinds of grace. There have been platitudes too--some that stabbed at my heart because they were too painful in their simplicity--including an email encouraging me to "relax and it will happen in God's timing"; I am just going to pass those off as well-intentioned, and am grateful that people try their best to offer something. I know it means that they care.

I have come to regret sharing this IVF journey so publically, not because of what people say, but because others became emotionally invested in the outcome--not to the extent that Joe and I are invested, but still invested. People who love us are broken-hearted on our behalf. If they feel even a fraction of the pain I feel right now, that is too much to ask another to bear.

We speak about this as a "failed IVF"--as if a process did not work. Really, it is a death...or in our case, 7 deaths. We implanted 2 embryos and there were 5 others we hoped to be able to freeze and use for another attempt, but they did not make it. I have always been a pro-life person, but watching those tiny little cells develop daily, I believe more than ever that life begins at conception...and I feel like I lost 7 little lives that I loved the instant they were created. I am not sure what the technical term for IVF failure is. I don't know if what happened would be considered a miscarriage, but that is what it feels like to me. There were two living beings--half me/half my beloved husband--inside my body and now they are gone. The past two days feel like a funeral procession that will never reach the actual funeral.

My in-laws took us out to dinner last night to cheer us up. It seemed like a good idea to get out of the house and focus on something other than my sad thoughts. At one point during the meal, I saw my husband look up at a picture on the wall: a picture of a dad and a little son following behind him, imitating him. Joe looked like someone had punched him in the gut and I knew instantly what he was thinking: "Why can't that be me?". I started sobbing when the entrees came. I don't know why. Joe held me and I heard my step mother-in-law say to Joe's dad, "What happened? Did we say something wrong?" They were nothing but gracious and kind and upbeat but, for some reason, it suddenly seemed cruel that life goes on as normal--eating, breathing, talking--when your whole world has been forever altered. Isn't that the nature of grief, though? You are normal one minute--thinking, "yes, this hurts, but I will be make it through this"--and then WHAM! a huge wave washes over you, instantly knocking you off your feet, and you wonder how you'll ever be ok again.

I am mourning the deaths of our little Fox babies, but I am mourning something else: a dearly held dream. This was the only round of IVF that we can afford. We will, after we have grieved, start looking into adoption. We always wanted to adopt and feel it is the Biblically mandated duty of every Christian to care for the orphans, aliens and widows. But I had always dreamed of still having a baby of my own--just one; a baby that was part me and part Joe...with his tender heart and wry humor and keen intellect and piercing green eyes. I want that more deeply than I can express in mere words. People tell me that it is not God's time yet. The truth is, I have no assurance that God will give me that desire; actually, it does not seem to be His Will for me at all. I turn 37 in a week and have had actual babies placed in my uterus and it still did not "work". All the vacations and relaxing in the world are not going to help me have baby. This very clearly seems to be the end of the road for me in terms of having a natural child--though I still trust that God can work a miracle if that is His Will (and that is what it would be: a miracle). I think I will be a mom, one way or another, but I believe the time has come for me to release the dream of giving birth to a child. That is a painful, gut-wrentching, terrifying release. There is some intense anger also--that what comes so easily to an unwed teenager in the back seat of a car will never be mine. It is unjust and unfair...but that is my reality.

I re-read C.S. Lewis's book "A Grief Observed" last night. It is the journal he wrote after his wife died from an agonizing bout with cancer. His brutal honesty and courage to wrestle with the darkest questions gave me hope. I know an awful lot about God (have a theology undergrad and spent 4 years in seminary). I have studied the Scriptures and immersed myself in the spiritual disciplines. None of that knowledge means anything when your heart is broken. I know the answers, but I don't FEEL the answers. C.S. Lewis told me last night that it is ok to get angry and to hurt and to cry out to God--and maybe even normal to feel His absence during a time you most long to feel His Presence. Great men and women of the past have wept and questioned and perhaps even yelled at God in the wee hours of the night and He was big enough to take it. Even my precious Jesus quoted the Psalms during his Agony: "Why have You forsaken me?". I have no doubt I will come to the end of this season of mourning, knowing my God more deeply and intimately for the struggle. Perhaps, I will be grateful some day for the struggle itself, knowing that all suffering produces Christlikeness, if we allow God that room to work in us.

C.S. Lewis asked a question some may consider blasphemous: Is God a vet or a vivisectionist? Is he caring for us (though we may not understand the "treatment") or is He experimenting on us in a cruel and malicious way? When you are hurting, you ask those kind of questions. Lewis said his deep fear was not that He would begin to doubt God's existence, but that He might begin to doubt His nature. Thank you, C.S. Lewis, for letting me know that those questions are part of grief and not a lack of faith. Thank you, C.S. Lewis, for letting me journey with you through your pain and loss and see you "come around" at the end--giving me hope that though weeping may endure for a night, joy comes in the morning.

Lewis also posited that perhaps God is like a great surgeon, getting to the root of an illness. If He were to stop the surgery--no matter how painful it is to the patient--before the problem were fixed, that would be the most cruel act of all.

I trust God has a purpose. I know God uses all things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose--to make us into the image of Christ. I don't FEEL that right now, but I do KNOW it. There is one thing that I do feel in the midst of all this: that my pain, my questions, my doubts, my anger, my inability to understand, my uncontrollable weeping...none of these things can separate me from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus my Lord. I am clinging to that truth, whether I feel it or not...trusting that one day I will feel it again.

St. Patrick's "Breastplate Prayer"

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!!

St. Patrick's "Breastplate Prayer"

I bind unto myself today
The strong Name of the Trinity,
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One and One in Three.

I bind this day to me for ever.
By power of faith, Christ's incarnation;
His baptism in the Jordan river;
His death on Cross for my salvation;
His bursting from the spicèd tomb;
His riding up the heavenly way;
His coming at the day of doom;*
I bind unto myself today.

I bind unto myself the power
Of the great love of the cherubim;
The sweet 'well done' in judgment hour,
The service of the seraphim,
Confessors' faith, Apostles' word,
The Patriarchs' prayers, the Prophets' scrolls,
All good deeds done unto the Lord,
And purity of virgin souls.

I bind unto myself today
The virtues of the starlit heaven,
The glorious sun's life-giving ray,
The whiteness of the moon at even,
The flashing of the lightning free,
The whirling wind's tempestuous shocks,
The stable earth, the deep salt sea,
Around the old eternal rocks.

I bind unto myself today
The power of God to hold and lead,
His eye to watch, His might to stay,
His ear to hearken to my need.
The wisdom of my God to teach,
His hand to guide, His shield to ward,
The word of God to give me speech,
His heavenly host to be my guard.

Against the demon snares of sin,
The vice that gives temptation force,
The natural lusts that war within,
The hostile men that mar my course;
Or few or many, far or nigh,
In every place and in all hours,
Against their fierce hostility,
I bind to me these holy powers.

Against all Satan's spells and wiles,
Against false words of heresy,
Against the knowledge that defiles,
Against the heart's idolatry,
Against the wizard's evil craft,
Against the death wound and the burning,
The choking wave and the poisoned shaft,
Protect me, Christ, till Thy returning.

Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me.
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

I bind unto myself the Name,
The strong Name of the Trinity;
By invocation of the same.
The Three in One, and One in Three,
Of Whom all nature hath creation,
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
Salvation is of Christ the Lord.

Online mini-prayer retreat

Since it is Lent, I have been looking for some ways to be more reflective, slow down, rest in God, etc. I really need to get away for a couple days on a retreat, to spend time specifically focused on Jesus and listening for His voice. That is still in the planning stages, but while looking around for some options this morning, I found a resource online that looks interesting to me and thought I would share.

There is a daily, 3-minute, online spiritual retreat with Scriptures, questions and pictures. They have a new one each day:
http://www.loyolapress.com/3-minute-retreats-daily-online-prayer.htm

I tried it out this morning and found it brief but relaxing...a nice way to start the day.

Apparently, you can sign up to get a daily email reminder that gives you a link to the daily "retreat"--if it something you find interesting.

p.s. For some reason I felt like checking in on my blog site today, after an absence of about 8 months. I have been bombarded by spam on here and just got tired of dealing with it, but am thinking about maybe being more regular on here or just deleting the blog. Gotta decide one way or another about that. Thanks for checking in!

Post-Surgery

I made it successfully through my laproscopic, exploratory surgery yesterday. It was a little more intensive than I expected...guess I was expecting to wake up and simply feel a little tired and kinda sore...but it is a bit more intense than that. Today is worse than yesterday, kinda like when you exercise really hard and the 2nd day always feels worse. Having a wonderful husband who dotes on me is a great blessing. If only I could get him to go to the bathroom for me, I'd never have to leave the couch.

The surgery was meant to tell me if I had endometriosis or any other problems that could be inhibiting my fertility. Turns out, there is nothing wrong with me...at least no endometriosis. My worst problem was a few random staples from a previous surgery that had made a home on top of my liver (or bladder--not sure--all the pictures look the same to me), but they had a protective layer of something formed over top of them and weren't disturbing anything, so I guess they are still in there, hanging out.

On one hand, it is really good news to not have endometriosis. That can be nasty stuff...hard to get rid of...hard to keep away...making an inhospitable home for developing babies. But there is part of me that is disappointed. I guess I just wanted an answer, a diagnosis, some reason why we aren't able to conceive. Test after test seems to reveal that everything is working just fine, except that it isn't. Having a "name" or an answer to why the baby thing isn't happening wouldn't change the fact there is no baby. I just wanted some title or diagnosis...something to make me feel some semblance of control in a situation where I have no control.

There are so many times in life that are like that. If we just knew what we were facing, if it had a name, we feel like we could handle it better...get our minds around it all a little more. So much of life, though, is "limbo": the unknown, the unnamed, the uncontrolled. I don't like that part of life, but it is life, nonetheless. I have no simple answers for how you handle those times, those "un-namable" times. But it does make me think that maybe a lot of life is about learning to trust, and these times that we don't understand help us learn how to trust in One who does know the reason, the name, the answer...One who is in control, and who does a much better job running things than any of us could.

Infertility Addendum

I should have added this to my first note, but didn't: the vast majority of people I know have been so incredibly gracious, understanding and supportive of me (and Joe) during this process. Even people who have said some of the things I mentioned in my first blog, did so with good intentions. It is just a hard subject and people don't know what to say or do. I have yet to meet someone who was malicious in regard to my struggle, who intentionally set out to say something hurtful. Even people who have inadvertently said things I wish they wouldn't say, didn't mean it that way...and I realize that at the time it happens and hopefully show the same grace to people that many have shown to me when I have said stupid things (which is several times a day!).

I know part of the issue is my own ultra-sensitivity to the topic, as well; I think that sensitivity just comes with the territory (being hyped up on hormones doesn't help anything, either). I guess I wrote what I wrote because it is something I have been thinking of for a long time and those are things I would never have thought of until I went through the struggle myself--stuff that was never covered in my pastoral care classes. A dear friend went through infertility struggles and I know I said something to her about adoption and about God's timing at different points, not understanding how that comes across. I meant well, I just didn't get it until I went through it myself. So, that note was really just a "heads up" to say that when people are hurting, sometimes well-intentioned comments don't always come across the way you mean for them to come across.

I also should have added a great big "Thank You" for the overwhelming love and support I have received and the kindness that so many have shown to me...including people who are willing to listen to me talk about this over and over again as I process. I am really blessed and thankful, even though this process is painful at times!

Infertility

I am having laproscopic surgery tomorrow (Wed) at 1pm to check for endometriosis and other infertility related problems. So, I could use your prayers. My doctor assures me that she has never had a patient even have complications from the procedure and she has done over 1,000 of them, but she still had to give me the "you could die from general anesthesia" spiel...so prayers couldn't hurt! Since I am being forthcoming about my surgery, I thought I might share some other thoughts on infertility...specifically things you shouldn't say to someone struggling in that area.

Because of our ages and our desire to have children, my husband and I started trying to conceive right after we got married. After about 7 months, we started tests to see if something was wrong. Nothing showed up, but still no baby. So, at a year of trying, we began fertility treatments. What all is involved in those treatments is long and arduous to explain, but sufficed to say, the longer the infertility goes on, the more intensive the treatments become.

As people have learned about my desire, and struggle, to have a baby, they have offered friendly advice. Most if it is harmless, though the emotional roller-coaster of infertility makes the most benign comment a potential landmine. So, for all 5 people who regularly read my blog, I want to pass on some helpful suggestions of things NOT to say to people struggling with infertility.

Top Three Things to NOT say to those struggling with infertility:

1) Just relax and it will happen (variations on this include: "When it's supposed to happen, it will" or "I have a friend who went on vacation, and she got pregnant; you just need a good vacation").

Reasons why this is troublesome to me:
My doctor assures me that there are medical reasons for why infertility happens, whether we know the cause or not (my age is not helping anything either). The "relax" comments are like saying to a diabetic, "Just get rid of the stress and your body will start making insulin correctly".
Women get pregnant in the middle of wars, economic hardship, while in mourning, sometimes even from rape. I just don't buy the stress argument. And who isn't stressed? I don't feel any more stressed than most people who somehow find themselves pregnant.
This comment makes me feel like I am doing something wrong, like I am at fault, and simply need to incorporate more yoga and deep breathing and then things will work out ok.

2) Don't discuss how easy it was for you (or your wife) to get pregnant with someone struggling with infertility.

This should seem pretty obvious, but I cannot count the number of conversations I have had with friends who have children where this has happened. I will be with a group of girlfriends. They will ask how things are going on the baby front. I will tell them how the latest fertility treatment didn't work. They will say something about how sad that is, and then, moments later, turn to another woman and say, "I didn't really have any trouble getting pregnant, did you?". They proceed to have a five minute conversation about how fertile they were. Not kidding! This has happened multiple times.
I think people do not know what to say, especially when they haven't struggled in this area. But let me give you a clue: discussing the ease of your fertility with an infertile person is NOT a helpful thing to say. I liken this to telling someone that you miss your father who passed away and how sad you are to not have him in your life anymore...then your friend says, "That is sad. I'm so glad my father is still alive". People just don't think, sometimes!

3) Have you thought about adoption?

This bothers me on multiple levels. I want to say, "Do you know that I think about babies for several hours a day and yes, surprisingly, the idea of adoption has actually crossed my mind?". I guarantee you that any person struggling with infertility has thought of adoption. Everyone. I promise. You do NOT need to say it. If they want to pursue that option, they will. If you want to suggest an adoption agency, wait until they ask.
Adoption is expensive and time-consuming. Fertility treatments are covered by my insurance at 90 percent, adoption is not. Right now, it is more financially viable to try this route. Besides that, I would really like to give birth to a child that is genetically connected to me and to my husband and to our families--just like most people do every day, all around the world. I think that is a normal, human desire--and I think it is a God-given desire. It may not happen for me. I may not be able to naturally have a child of my own--and I will deeply mourn the loss of that dream. Until that happens though, my husband and I need to let things run their course as far as we think it needs to go.
Two months into starting fertility treatments, I had people talking to me about adoption. At least let me have a little hope that I can have a child of my own...it is the desire of my heart. When people suggest adoption, it feels like they are saying, "It's not going to work. Give up now." And when you are undergoing infertility treatments, you are desperate for hope, desperately searching for some sign or signal each month that it might have "worked" this time, and continually devastated by the loss when it doesn't happen--both wife and husband mourn deeply, in their own ways, month after month, as infertility goes on.
I am not opposed to adoption and would like to adopt even if we are able to have our own child. But I want to do it because the time is right and God is calling us to that--not because we want a baby at any cost. The are reasons people seek adoption and I think that each couple will know if and when that is the right choice for them. When dealing with infertility issues, just steer clear of the word "adoption" unless they bring it up to you.

What do you say to someone?
Just listen, let them know you care, don't offer easy answers, and pray for them. That's it. Simple. Easy. For those of you who are pastors, you can send me $5 for this handy pastoral advice!!!!

Younger Clergy Obsession

My denomination (the United Methodist Church) is fascinated by finding, attracting, and keeping younger clergy. It seems that is all I hear about these days. I went to a meeting at the District office the other day and heard my District Superintendent praise someone for being a coveted young clergy person. No disrespect to my DS, but it made my stomach church. That is mostly because I am just tired of hearing about it. Since I still am a "young clergy" (at least until December 31st when I turn 36 and will become, I guess, "middle aged clergy"), I feel that I can speak to this issue from the "inside".

There are a lot of reasons this "young" thing bothers me. First and foremost is that Jesus did not seemed so focused on a person's age. I can't remember one instance where he even referenced age. Jesus seemed more concerned that His followers were 100 percent sold out and committed to Him. Passion, surrender, and commitment were the trademarks Jesus looked for in followers (and leaders). I feel like our denomination should be calling out for passionate clergy, for people who are desperately in love with Jesus and want to lead others to Him, whether they are 18 or 98 really doesn't matter.

This whole obsession with younger clergy seems to be a grasping effort to stop our decline as a denomination and bring in new life--a tourniquet to stop our slow bleed. It is not that I am opposed to younger clergy (since I am one!), or to reaching younger generations for Jesus Christ. I fully support that and think those are good and necessary things, but they are not the only things. People matter to God. People of all ages. And God can use anyone...ANYONE...to accomplish His purposes.

I first heard my call to ministry at age 16 during a sermon in my home church on a typical Sunday morning. My senior pastor, Rev. Dick Teller, was preaching about Noah and God's promises, and I felt God speak to me that day about my calling as a pastor. Rev. Teller was in his 60s at the time. By our current rhetoric, only a 30 year old should have been able to reach me as a teenager. But for me, it was a wise, faithful, godly, dedicated pastor in his 60s who spoke to my heart.

My husband, Joe, likes to listen to sermons by Bishop Will Willimon. I did not hear this myself, but I trust Joe implicitly. Apparently, in one recent sermon, Willimon said that he told his District Superintendents that if someone 40 or over calls their offices expressing an interest in the ministry, get to them when you can. If they are under 40, clear your schedule and meet them immediately. Somehow, I'm not surprised by that, but it makes me sad. Why wouldn't you drop your busy administrative schedule to run out and meet anyone who feels God is calling them to ministry, regardless of age? I just don't believe that the less wrinkles you have, the more effective you will be in ministry.

I am a much better, wiser pastor than I was when I first started out. I have fallen flat on my face and learned from mistakes. Ten years from now, I will probably be able to say the same thing. With age often comes wisdom. The more you experience of life and of God, the more you have to offer the world, not less. For me, as a person in my 30s, I tend to seek out counselors and advisers who are older than me, who have already walked where I am headed. In spiritual matters, I lean toward people who have learned more than I have. Age is a virtue, at least in terms of wisdom and guidance.

I guess I can't speak for everyone in my age bracket, but I think most people want a pastor who truly loves God and knows what he/she is talking about...whether they are 30 or 70. I have found, as a younger clergy, that most people need to get past my age (as well as my gender) before they are willing to trust me...even younger people. It may be cool to be young, but I am not sure that most people really want a pastor who is cool. They want a pastor who is authentic and has something to teach them that they haven't been able to find on their own. Teach pastors how to do that and the church will grow.

I went to a "young clergy" event at Ginghamsburg UMC a few months ago. It was wonderful. We had a chance to hear from great preachers who have been pastors for a long time. They shared wisdom with us to help develop us. My only problem with the event was that I know a lot of pastors who are older than 35 who would have gained much from attending. It also struck me as odd the idea that just because you are under a certain age, you are all in the same place of ministry. I sat next to a woman who was 2 years younger than me and had been a local pastor for 2 years and had not been to seminary yet. I am going on my 10th year of pastoral ministry and have gone to seminary. We were in different places, asking different questions, needing different things. I think it would be great to have events based on years of ministry experience, regardless of age, because then you might be asking the same questions and struggling with the same concepts.

Ministry is hard and there is so much to learn, continually. The minute you are ordained it seems you are expected to know everything there is to know. What if, instead of obsessing about younger clergy, we focused on training and equipping more effective clergy of all ages? What if we had events based on years of ministry experience or situational need? What if we made pastors feel supported and valued, instead of indicating they are past their prime the minute they say goodbye to their 30s.

In all this diatribe, I am not saying we shouldn't recruit and train younger clergy. I am saying that our obsession with youth is not going to solve the problems in the United Methodist Church. Younger Clergy are not the elusive holy grail that will save our dying denomination. Things like vision, accountability, encouragement, Scripture study, prayer, passion, renewal, revival are what we need...and those things have nothing to do with age. Let's fall more in love with Jesus and desperately depend on His Spirit. That's where our focus needs to be. Just my two cents...from a frustrated pastor who is going to throw up the next time she hears "younger clergy".

Rudeness

After dragging my husband to a movie that no male of any species should have to endure, we went out to dinner. Mexican Food. We sat at our table, talking about the moral vaccuum that is our American culture and absentmindedly eating a whole basket of tortilla chips and salsa. Suddenly our adorable waiter (he was really small of stature and flustered by the busyness of the restaurant) appeared at our table and said: "I'm sorry it's taking so long for your food. We are really backed up in the kitchen. I promise it will be out soon". Honestly, I hadn't even noticed (because I was busy talking with the handsomest man in the world and that is way more interesting than a tamale!). In actuality, it was about 20-30 minutes between the time we ordered and when the food arrived. Normally, by the time you have ordered, handed the menu back to the waiter, and have reached for the next tortilla chip, your food shows up, so that night was abnormally slow...but we didn't really mind. The people behind us, however, did mind. While we were eating, we heard a lady complaining to the sweet, little waiter-man about how ridiculous it was that she had to wait, because she had things she needed to do. Later, another couple behind us asked to speak to a manager, who mistakenly showed up at our table instead. We told him that we were fine, but he better brace himself for attack at the next table. Poor kid looked like he was about to faint.

The man who asked to see the manager proceeded to loudly and rudely eviscerate the manager, claiming that he was paying for "food and ambiance" (not sure how much ambiance you expect to get with an $8 burrito, but it made us laugh). He said a bunch of other rude, inappropriate, loud things that made him look like an imbecile and proceeded to embarrass his wife (and everyone within a mile radius). He proclaimed that he was so upset by the experience that he didn't think he'd even be able to eat his food at this point (when the food eventually arrived, he somehow managed to move past his pain).

Now here is my main problem with this situation: you don't treat people like they are dirt beneath your feet, no matter how hungry you are. I am not opposed to lodging a complaint when necessary. In fact, I recently called the Fazoli's complaint department after waiting 20 minutes at the drive thru for some tortellini...but I didn't make the drive thru attendant feel like he was sub-human.

Another issue this situation raises for me deals with our culture: We expect everything instantly. We can't wait for anything, and worse, don't feel like we should have to wait for anything. Are we really so important that the whole world needs to revolve around us and our needs? Sometimes kitchens get backed up and that is just life. Waiting 20 minutes for your food to show up is not going to kill you. I worked at a McDonald's one summer in a wealthy suburb of Detroit where my dad lived at the time. Sometimes the grill would get backed up, especially later at night when we had less people scheduled and a little league team would show up. When there are 30 people in line, you aren't going to get your order in 10 seconds. That is just life. People take out their frustrations on the front person, because the grill people (who are working hard to get all the orders out) are hidden...and it seems that all the frustrations of a person's existence come to the surface when she is forced to wait and is no longer in control of a situation. I think you can tell a lot about a person's character by the way they wait, but that's a whole other blog.

There are entire cultures who consider a meal to be an experience...places where people spend time talking and connecting for an hour or two before they even order off a menu. As Americans, we want to run in and out and never be inconvenienced. The irate, complaining man at the restaurant was there with his wife. They sat in uncomfortable silence while waiting for their food. His dissatisfaction at waiting said a lot more to me about him than it did about the restaurant staff. Is it so hard to talk to your wife for 20 minutes and enjoy it? If so, that's the real tragedy of the night, not the delay of tacos. I am blessed to have a husband who, half-way through our meal, said to me, "Why don't you come sit next to me? You are too far away!" He was probably just trying to get on my good side (it worked!) or attribute it to the fact we've only been married a year and a half. I hope, though, that we will still have something to talk about after we've been married for 20 years. I dread the day when having to sit across from my spouse, waiting for food, becomes drudgery.

The moral reminder to me from this experience: A little waiting every now and then isn't going to kill you...so find a way to enjoy what is happening, rather than complaing and making everyone around you miserable.

Moving

Things have been busy, with lots of changes going on in our lives. The biggest change: Joe and I will be moving to a new church at the end of June. I will soon be the pastor of Eastview United Methodist Church in Whitehall, OH (aka Columbus, for those not from this part of Ohio). I have had the privilege of serving the wonderful people at Hopewell UMC in Groveport, OH for the past 4 years and will be sad to say goodbye to them, yet excited about the new possibilities God is opening up before me. It is a very surreal time in life, living in two different worlds at the same time. I am leaving, but am still present. Very odd dynamic. I don't mind change (though I do mind all the boxes around our house, mocking me about how much packing still remains undone); it is just the transitions between something old and something new--the prolonged "goodbyes", in this case--that make me weary, and sad. A special line from a favorite hymn keeps running through my mind: "O Thou who changest not, abide with me". If anyone still reads this blog and wants to remember me, Joe, Hopewell UMC and Eastview UMC in your prayers, we'd greatly appreciate it!!!

note: I haven't been blogging in quite a while and, in fact, have been pondering taking the blog down for a couple reasons: 1) because I have not done a good job keeping up with it and it has, consequently, become one more thing to feel guilty/stressed/worried about and 2) the amount of spam comments on here (the vast majority in Chinese) that I have to filter through is becoming incredibly annoying. But, there is something about this blog that I just can't turn my back on completely. So, here I am again...at least for now ;-)

The Advent Conspiracy

Advent is here and it has been 6 months since my last post...so I thought I'd attempt to begin again. It is easy to fall out of the blogging groove. I guess that is true of most things in life: stop exercising or praying or reading your Bible (insert your favorite activity to slack off on) for a few days and it is hard to get motivated again. With the important things, we usually seem to cycle back again...so here is my attempt at cycling back!

I'm not sure I have anything to say about Advent that hasn't been said a million times before...so I will speak to something that has been convicting me: the idea of finding ways to give more (i.e. "Live simply so that others may simply live"). I really like the "Advent Conspiracy" website. I also have been reading their book: Advent Conspiracy: Can Christmas Still Change the World? by Rick McKinley, Chris Seay, and Greg Holder. The main premise of the website and the book is that we have lost the meaning of Christmas due to our preoccupation (even worship) of consumerism. They encourage us to take back Christmas by doing 4 things: 1) Worship Fully, 2) Spend Less, 3) Give More, and 4) Love All. There is much that is convicting and inspiring to me about those ideas, but for today, I just want to share an excerpt and a quote from the book that I found compelling.

First, the excerpt (p.13):
The water crisis around the world is staggering. Hundreds of children die simply because they don't have access to clean drinking water. It makes our mouths drop and our stomachs turn when we realize that the amount of money we spend on Christmas in America is close to forty-five times the amount of money it would take to supply the entire world with clean water. (see Living Water International for more information)

And a quote from C.S. Lewis (p. 61) challenging us to give more to the cause of Christ:
"I do not believe one can settle how much we ought to give. I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare. In other words, if our expenditure on comforts, luxuries, amusements, etc., is up to the standard common among those with the same income as our own, we are probably giving away too little. If our charities do not at all pinch or hamper us, I should say they are too small. There ought to be things we should like to do and cannot do because our charitable expenditure excludes them."

Just some thoughts that have been meaningful to me as I prepare for the coming of Christ...

It's ok to cry...

I attended a women's conference a couple weeks ago at my sister-in-law's church. It was a day-long event for women, with speakers, worship, fellowship and chocolate...plus, her church has a bookstore, which, for me, is like an opium den to a heroin addict. Lots of things from that day touched my heart and left me with a longing for more of God. One thing happened, however, that made me think, "I might just blog about that someday". A woman at my table started to cry after one of the speakers. Another woman--kind, well-intentioned, fluent in "Christian-ese"--attempted to comfort her by saying, "It's ok. God loves you. You are beautiful to Him".

Our dog, Molly, when she does not like something, has this interesting habit. The hairs on the back of her neck spike up, like a little mohawk. It happens when small children smother her with love, when she is taking a nap and we try to talk to her, and when other dogs try to sniff her in more than just a cursory greeting. When I heard the woman's platitudinous attempt at comfort, I felt like Molly. The proverbial hair on my neck started to form a "Molly mohawk".

My first objection to what she said was that she didn't know what the crying woman was feeling. She had no idea. Nor did she ask. While it is true that God loves us each intimately and deeply and that we are beautiful because of His love, I am not sure that saying that to someone you barely know is going to heal the deepest hurts of a heart. In fact, I am sure that it won't. Why isn't it ok to hurt...to cry...to just plain need God? Why do we rush to "fix" people and stop tears? Why couldn't that woman sit there and cry and we could just sit there with her, in silence, with a hand on her back to let her know she is not alone.

I guess it bothered me so much because I see that tendency in myself to want to rush people through pain. "God loves you"; "Have faith"; "I'm praying for you"...all of those are true and wonderful things, but I think we often say them more out of our personal discomfort than because it is what a hurting person really needs to hear. We don't know what to say, so we pull out a platitude. We have our own hurts that we don't know how to deal with--things that start to come to the surface when others around us are hurting or in need--and we want to squelch it back down and make things comfortable again.

I am always struck by the Psalms for that very reason. Nothing is anesthetized, nothing is "safe". It is raw and awkward and uncomfortable...and for some reason, that is ok. That is different than my experience of the Church a lot of times. Especially at funerals. How many times have I heard mourners say, "They wouldn't want us to cry" or "I have to be strong for my loved one; that is what he/she would want me to do". Really? Is that true? I'll be honest and say that when I die, I expect some tears, people. I want to be missed...just like I will deeply and desperately miss the people that mean the most to me. Even Jesus wept over sin and death. When His friend Lazarus died, Jesus cried...right before He brought him back to life. I could analyze why Jesus cried, but I'll save that for some other post. The point is, He cried. He mourned. He felt. Tears are not a lack of faith. Feeling pain is not a failure on our path to spiritual maturity. It is part of being alive, part of being real, part of being connected to (as well as disconnected from) others.

I remember being a chaplain intern at a hospital one summer. For some reason, I was the "angel of death". I had friends that never experienced one death as a chaplain. I'd have 50 deaths a night...ok, maybe not 50, but some statistically impossible number of deaths again and again, night after night of being "on call". While the world slept one dark night, my beeper went off. An older man had passed away--a man who was old enough for death not to be an impossibility, yet still unexpected in this particular situation. I came into the room, introduced myself as the chaplain, and kind of stood in the room, waiting to see what the family needed. They were loud and sobbing. At one point, a daughter (in her 50s or 60s), literally climbed on top of her father's dead body and sobbed more loudly than I have ever heard anyone sob. The other mourners in the room joined in the melancholy chorus. It was deafeningly loud and uncomfortable and awkward. Everything inside me wanted to yell: "Stop!" I had never seen anything like it. It was too raw. You are supposed to control yourself in front of others. Deal with your pain in private and in public, act in a controlled, respectable manner. That was how every death I experienced went. You didn't sob and throw yourself on the body, even if you wanted to. At some point, I suggested we pray, and we did, amidst even more sobbing. Then I got out of there as fast as I possibly could. Great chaplain, I know!

Over the years, I have reflected on that experience. I am not sure where and how I learned that too much emotion is bad, but it seems to be commonplace in the Church. We have to act happy, act "Christian"--even when everything is falling apart. We put on faces and play a part. That is what it means to follow Christ--at least that is how we act it out, regardless of what we really believe. I wonder if that family was closer to the truth than I am, than we are. Maybe it is alright to sob and wail when you feel your heart breaking. Maybe being real and authentic is ok. Maybe it is even "Christian" to be that way. Maybe we need to stop rushing people through their uncomfortable emotions so that we feel better, safer, less out of control. Maybe it is ok to just let someone cry--even sob--and not have to say anything to "fix" it at all.

Joy Robbers

I served as a spiritual director on a Christian retreat (called "Emmaus") this past weekend. During a question and answer time, one of the questions asked was: "What do you do with all the 'joy robbers' at your church"? First, I laughed...because I knew exactly what that woman meant by a "joy robber". They are everywhere, in the church and outside the church: people who sap your energy, squash your dreams, poop on your best ideas, and generally make you want to go jump off a bridge. I gave some really poetic pastoral response about keeping our focus on Jesus and not letting other people's responses bring us down. I talked about Jesus being crucified on the cross and how his response to people far worse than a joy robber was, "Father, forgive them. They don't know what they are doing". I even mentioned how, if we are honest with ourselves, each one of us has been a joy robber to someone else, probably without even knowing it. People nodded their heads in agreement with my extremely profound and spiritually insightful answer to the question. I was pretty proud of myself. Then I left the weekend to attend my church that morning, before heading back to Emmaus to finish the rest of the weekend.

Just before worship service started, I saw one coming toward me...one of my favorite joy robbers. This person has made joy robbing into an art form. In our brief interaction, I felt all the peace, rest, beauty, energy, and grace I had been experiencing on the Emmaus weekend completely drain from my soul. I sat down in my fancy pastor's chair while our wonderful church pianist played music for the acolytes. I had my head down, praying...frustrated and disappointed. My husband caught my eye and mouthed to me, "What's wrong?". I mouthed back the name of that morning's joy robber. He instantly laughed, because he has heard many tales of joy robbing involving that particular name--and even experienced it himself. I was so angry with myself, upset that I could let someone steal my joy that quickly and easily. The irony was not lost on me. It is one thing to tell people how to act Christlike in response to joy robbers. It is quite another thing to live it out.

I had time while driving back to the Emmaus weekend after church services to pray and reflect about how easily I lose sight of Christ and all His goodness. I eventually caught sight of Him again, but we will see what happens the next time a joy robber comes around (my guess is that will be Sunday morning some time)...I am sure my eyes will slip again, and I will be discouraged, at least momentarily.

There are some who say not to worry about the joy robbers, but I do. Part of it is my neurotic need to have everyone like me. But a deeper part is that I truly care about people, even the cranky ones. My favorite joy robber--the one who got me this past Sunday--is someone I genuinely like. I want that person to know the joy that Jesus brings. I don't think you can be a joy robber if you are experiencing the life and Spirit of Christ at work in your heart on a regular basis. My guess is that those joy robbers are missing some joy themselves...why else would they need to rob it from those who have it?

There are church leaders who have said to me, "The secret to leadership is to go with those who want to go". The premise there is to focus on the people who are excited to go where you are leading, and let the others gripe and grumble as they may. There is truth in that. The joy robbers can steal your attention from what is important. But they still matter to God, grumpy and draining though they may be.

I have this unquenchable optimism in the power of Jesus Christ to transform hearts and lives. I have experienced it myself...and experience on a regular basis. I see His power at work in lives all around me. I want to see it at work in those joy robbers.

My new goal in dealing with joy robbers is two-fold: 1) even though their responses may bother me momentarily, I will not dwell on it and 2) I will do everything in my power to show joy to the joy robbers...so that they can stop robbing and start overflowing.

My challenge for you today (and for me) is to hunt down some joy robbers--seek them out--and lavish your joy on them. Then walk away smiling.

The Value of a Life

I officiated my stepgrandmother's funeral yesterday. It was a small service, with a private family viewing and then a brief graveside rite. As we drove to the cemetary, I looked behind us at the line of cars following in the procession. There were maybe 6 cars. It seemed sad to me, that so few people were there. It made me think about what is really important at the end of a life. Yesterday, I thought, "I hope, when I die, there are more cars than this in my funeral processional".

It is not a matter of popularity or needing people to mourn me. It is about knowing that my life was significant, that I loved well and was loved in return. For me, the value of a life can be summed up by how well we loved, both God and others. I want to touch other lives. I want it to matter that I was here. I want to live in such a way that people feel compelled to come say goodbye to me.

At a recent funeral I officiated, for a wonderful man named Richard Cook, I was reminded about the kind of life I want to live. Person after person came by and spoke about what a great man he was, how loving he was, how gentle he was...how he was the kindest person they had ever known. I want to live my life in such a way--to leave my mark on the world by the way that I love and treat others. I want to live in such a way that when I die, people will want to be better--to live more fully, boldy, lovingly--because of my example.

I am reminded, again, of a song that has always meant a lot to me. I know I blogged about it a couple years ago, but the chorus bears repeating.

Legacy
by Nicole Nordeman

Chorus:
I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough to make a mark on things?
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace who blessed Your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy
----------------

May we strive to leave a legacy of love in all that we do and say and are...so that when our lives end, we will have left a mark of grace on a multitude of hearts and lives.

Transitions

I am now a married woman...almost 7 weeks. It has been a lot easier to join my life with another person's than I ever imagined. We don't have disagreements about the toothpaste squeezing or the direction toilet paper should go on the roll. That isn't to say we don't have disagreements: we do! But it is never about the small stuff; our struggles are more about our internal demons and insecurities, trying to figure out how the other person communicates, and about finally feeling loved and safe after a lifetime of never really experiencing that with such intensity. It is a transition to trust someone to love you unconditionally and forever. It is a nice transition, but a transition nonetheless.

It is amazing to me how much of life is about transitioning. I say this as a person who just got married...then my aunt died...my dear friend's mother and father died within a month of one another...my step-grandmother died this week. Lots of death. Lots of transition.

Most of life involves change. There are very few times where life is simply "normal" and immutable. Most seasons include some kinds of transition: some happy, like marriage...others painful, like death. Most are mixed, meaning that there is happiness present at the saddest of times, and a little sorrow, even at the happiest moments.

Being human, I can't say I am overly fond of change. It doesn't bother me as much as the average person (I attribute this to being an ENFP on the Myers Briggs--that "p" part sort of thrives on change)...still, I like things to feel comfortable, normal, at rest. How often, really, is life like that? There may be a day here or there that is changeless...but for the most part, life is on the move, transition after transition.

I have always clung to the verse in Hebrews 13:8, "Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today and forever". It gives me peace to know that whatever is changing around me, Jesus stays solid. Jesus stays the same.

The truth of God's constancy overwhelmed me during one of the recent funerals that I performed. (Please God, no more funerals...can I just get a month off from funerals?) As the pastor, it is my job to lead the body to the graveside. I walk ahead, with the pall bearers carrying the casket behind me, to the graveside. I stand there, at the head of the casket, waiting for it to be set into place. Long ago, someone told me that a pastor is meant to represent God to people--that during the significant moments of life, the pastor is there with families, reminding them that God is with them. Even when you don't say anything, as a pastor, you represent God's constant presence.

The last time I led a body to the grave, I was overwhelmed by the idea that I represented God's presence. It dawned on me that, just as I walk before the casket, God is always leading us to where we will go next. There has never been a moment when He was not present with us. There is no place we will go where He has not walked ahead. Even when we take our final breath, even then God has gone before us, to prepare a place for us.

I find it comforting that no matter how much life changes, God goes before us and after us and beside us and within us...leading, guiding, holding, healing, changing, helping, shaping, perfecting. As we face transitions that seem unknown and, perhaps, frightening, let us take comfort in our Leading God...who goes before us, every step of the way.

Long Absences

Hello Blog Readers!

Thank you for checking back in, even though I have been "silent" for a long time. Things have been busy: got engaged, planning a wedding, getting married in 30 days and 11 hours. In some ways, the wedding cannot get here soon enough, because I am truly ready to join my life with Joe's. It is all the little wedding details that make me wish there was at least a little more time left.

Being a pastor, I used to inwardly laugh at brides and all the things they worried about--things that really have no eternal meaning and really aren't important enough to cause ulcers (or potential matricide). Yet, now that I am the bride, I see it from a totally different perspective. It is like a light-switch clicked on and I became inordinately concerned with things like balloons and bubbles and ribbons and bows. Yes, I have become Bridezilla...me, the one who has counseled couples about the marriage relationship being the most important part of a wedding, about the wedding being a worship service meant to honor God, and about not getting caught up in details that really don't matter in the grand scheme of things, etc. Those are easy words to say until you become the bride and actually find yourself crying (read sobbing) over a simple, inconsequential printing error on your wedding invitations. Every few days, I cry about something. In all fairness, I think it is just the stress.

I am not stressed about marrying Joe. He's the best thing that has ever happened to me. I think that, because I have come to love him so much, I want a wedding that reflects how much Joe means to me, in the most perfect form possible. Perfection is a harsh thing to strive for...and pointless, really. I don't even know what perfect is. Still, I think a lot of the Bridezilla-mentality stems from a need to make your wedding into the perfect representation of your love. Not only does the phrase "perfect representation of our love" make me want to vomit, it is also impossible to symbolize marital love through bows and flowers. That just isn't going to happen. Something that meaningful cannot be made tangible through cake and balloons. Those things are just accessories meant to draw attention to what really matters.

This whole process has been eye-opening to me. I have learned that sometimes we surprise ourselves with our emotions and reactions. I have learned that I am more worldly-minded at times than I like to admit. And I have learned to never tell a bride to "calm down, it will all work out" (I am sure it is true, but brides don't want to hear it). I am also learning that maybe the stress and the mini-freakouts are just a normal part of the process and I should simply find a way to enjoy the crazy ride that leads me down the aisle. I will only travel this way one time; I might as well get the full experience! In the end, as long as Joe and I are married, I will be happy. Between now and then, I will probably be having nightmares about food running out, balloons deflating, flowers dying, and boys from the youth group (who are serving as ushers) wrestling each other in the narthex. Still, I guess the real fun (and meaning) in life is found in the unexpected, the disruptions, the detours. It is hard to remember that right now. I am sure I will get my spiritual perspective back again, after Bridezilla fever has passed.

I can't promise lots of blogging in the next month, but I will be back here soon enough. I miss it! And, who knows, you may get some pre-wedding rants from time to time in the next 30 days (and 11 hours). I am not sure how spiritually reflective it will be, but it will probably make you smile.

Feel free to check out our wedding website to read about the wedding details and sign our guest book: http://www.wedorama.com/joeandtina/

ALABASTER BOX - CECE WINANS

I am preaching this week about the woman who annoints Jesus' feet with a costly oil, just before He dies. She is scorned for her extravagance, by everyone but Jesus. Jesus appreciates the gesture, because Jesus always welcomes people who love Him with abandon...people who know how desperately they need Him and give their best to Him.

In preparation for this sermon, I have come back to a song that meant a lot to me at one point in my life: "Alabaster Box" by Cece Winans. I think I have listend to this song at least 100 times this week and wanted to share it with you, my blogging friends. I love the line: "You don't know the cost of the oil, you don't know the cost of my praise, you don't know the cost of the oil in my alabaster box". I love the idea that because we have been so completely forgiven, we would lavish our love on Jesus.

I pray for each of us that we might more fully feel our need of Jesus...that we would experience His forgiveness in the deepest parts of our hearts and lives...and that, because we have been forgiven so completely, we might learn to really love God extravagantly.

"Alabaster Box" Lyrics
VERSE 1
The room grew still as she made her way to Jesus
She stumbles through the tears that made her blind
She felt such pain, some spoke in anger
Heard folks whisper, there's no place here for her kind.
Still on she came, through the shame that flushed her face
Until at last she knelt before His feet. And though she spoke no words
Everything she said was heard, As she poured her love for the Master
From her box of Alabaster.

CHORUS
And I've come to pour my praise on Him like oil from Mary's Alabaster Box
Don't be angry if I wash His feet with my tears and I dry them with my hair.
You weren't there the night He found me.
You did not feel what I felt when He wrapped His love all around me.
And you don't know the cost of the oil in my Alabaster Box.

VERSE 2
I can't forget the way life used to be. I was a prisoner to the sin that had me bound
I spent my days pouring my life without measure
Into a little treasure box I thought I found. Until the day when Jesus came to me
And healed my soul with the wonder of His touch.
So now I'm giving back to Him all the praise He's worthy of .
I've been forgiven and that's why I love Him so much.

CHORUS
And I've come to pour my praise on Him like oil from Mary's Alabaster Box
Don't be angry if I wash His feet with my tears
And I dry them with my hair, my hair.
You weren't there the night Jesus found me. You did not feel what I felt
When He wrapped His love all around me. And you don't know the cost of the oil
Oh, you don't know the cost of my praise. You don't know the cost of the oil
In my Alabaster Box.

Being the Beloved

I have been thinking recently about how I define myself as a person. What gives me meaning? What gives me purpose? Who am I? Even as a Christian, do I find my identity in the things I do well, in my successes and achievements? Or do I define myself by what God says about me? Is my meaning and purpose found in my relationship with Christ?

As I am asking these thoughts, I came across the following reading (below), which speaks to our identity as "Beloved"...not because we are good or perfect, but simply because that is what God chooses to think and say about us.

I love that the very first thing God says about Jesus is that he is "beloved", that the Father is "pleased" with him. This happens before Jesus performs any miracles or enters into public ministry. God is pleased with Jesus, just as he is...because Jesus is beloved. We, too, are beloved. We may not feel it, but feelings do not make things true or untrue...they just muddy reality and distract us from what is most valid and life-giving. The truth is that we, just like Jesus, are beloved by God. That is the core of our identity...that is who we are: BELOVED.

I pray that the thoughts of Nouwen (below) will remind you to find your identity in your relationship to God...the God who loves you, just as you are...

"You Are My Beloved"
(from "The Only Necessary Thing: Living a Prayerful Life"; a book of thoughts from Henri Nouwen, compiled and edited by Wendy Wilson Greer)

I very much believe that the core moment of Jesus' public life was the baptism in the Jordan, when Jesus heard the affirmation, "You are my beloved on whom my favor rests". That is the core experience of Jesus. He is reminded in a deep, deep way of who he is. The temptations in the desert are temptations to move him away from that spiritual identity. He was tempted to believe he was someone else: You are the one who can turn stone into bread. You are the one who can jump from the temple. You are the one who can make others bow to your power. Jesus said, "No, no, no. I am the Beloved from God." I think his whole life is continually claiming that identity in the midst of everything. There are times in which he is praised, times when he is despised or rejected, but he keeps saying, Others will leave me alone, but my Father will not leave me alone. I am the beloved Son of God. I am the hope found in that identity.
Prayer, then, is listening to that voice--to the One who calls you the Beloved. It is to constantly go back to the truth of who we are and claim it for ourselves. I'm not what I do. I'm not what people say about me. I'm not what I have. Although there is nothing wrong with success, there is nothing wrong with popularity, there is nothing wrong with being powerful, finally my spiritual identity is not rooted in the world, the things the world gives me. My life is rooted in my spiritual identity. Whatever we do, we have to go back regularly to that place of core identity."

Love Lessons

Many apologies for the lack of recent posts. Starting a doctoral program in addition to normal pastoral duties has put me a little behind in the realm of blogging. In addition, another crucial dimension has been added to my life. I've started dating a wonderful man named Joe. Poor guy, he is dating a pastor, so he may very well end up as a sermon illustration or, like today, the impetus for a blog post.

This whole relationship thing has made me think many thoughts about God. Primarily, I've realized I have no clue as to what God is thinking most days. The more I try to figure Him out, the more confused I get. This is especially true in regard to His timing. This relationship caught me completely by surprise. Yes, we did meet on the internet (christiancafe.com), so I was, at some level, looking for a relationship. However, after a few months of online dating, I had pretty much decided that it was not for me. I was discouraged and disappointed by the people I had met; some guys were really nice guys, there was just no chemistry; others were plain creepy, and I mean that in the most Christ-like way. The overall experience was disheartening. I even went hiking one day and said to God, "This is ridiculous. I give up. I am done. I am going to buy a bunch of cats and forget the idea of ever meeting a man I could possibly marry." I say that tongue in cheek, but it was actually a very painful conversation that I had with God, wondering aloud if He really cared about the deepest desires of my heart. Because, unfortunately, whenever God does not do things in my timing, in the form I think things should take, I resort to doubting Him and His care for me. I am sure this frustrates Him endlessly, yet He loves me still. That relentless love will forever amaze me, because I certainly do not deserve it.

A few days after my little tantrum with God, I got a message from Joe, and so it began...at the point when I was ready to call it quits in terms of dating--but he seemed different, special, worth my time and attention (turns out, he is better than anyone I could have dreamed up). The whole thing happened at a very busy time, as I was starting my doctoral work, and had other things on my mind--as well as having decided that marriage was just never going to happen for me. The timing is not how I would have planned it, but maybe God actually knows what He is doing, even if His plan unfolds in a different way and time than I would expect. Maybe I had to really surrender my hopes, dreams and desires to God before He could actually fulfill them in any meaningful way. Again, I have no idea what God is thinking, so I could speculate all day about why this happened when it happened. Maybe I should just be grateful and enjoy it.

Another spiritual lesson I have learned from this new relationship is how cold my heart really is toward God. I enjoy talking to Joe for hours on end. I would give up sleep to spend time with him. When I hear his voice on the phone, my heart skips a beat. If I could just stare at his handsome face for days, I would feel content. No one has ever inspired such intensity of emotion in my heart before. Yet it makes me think, do I feel this intensely for Christ? When is the last time I gave up sleep in order to read His Word? When is the last time I was giddy just to be in His Presence? When has the sound of His Voice stopped my heart? I want to love God with that kind of intensity...to seek Him with the passion of a woman in love. That is what God deserves from us.

I have this belief that all the best parts of human relationships are but a poor reflection of the relationship God wants to have with us. The intensity and passion of romantic love remind us of the intensity of God's love for us, and how He is a God who longs to be loved with every part of our heart, soul, strength and mind. He wants a relationship with us that is all-consuming, all-fulfilling, all-inspiring. Falling in love with Joe has made me want to love Jesus even more. I pray for all of us that we might love Jesus with all the intensity and beauty that He is worthy of receiving. He deserves nothing less from us.

Recognising the Voice

Many apologies for the blogging silence, dear friends. I have been in the Boston area, working on my doctoral program at Gordon Conwell Theological Seminary. I will be here throughout this coming week, as well. While I have certainly had some extra time in which to blog, I have not had much brain power left over after classes and homework. My mind is preoccupied with overly ambitious thoughts and is overwhelmed from very long days. I did, however, want to share something I read in a devotional book last night. Since my own thoughts are stagnate right now, I am borrowing from the thoughts of others (and it will probably be even more inspirational!). The following is taken from the book "The Monstatic Way: Ancient Wisdom for Contemporary Living, a Book of Daily Readings" edited by Hannah Ward and Jennifer Wild.

This devotional is entitled "Recognising the Voice" and begins with this quote:

"God is always at home. It is we who have gone out for a walk"
~Meister Eckhart

(and then the actual devotional, which happens to be in more of a poem format for this particular day)

"In the film
Dead Poets Society,
a student pretends
to get a phone call
during morning assembly.
When the phone rings,
he answers it
and tells the headmaster
that it is God calling.
I have spent
the majority of my life
waiting for that ring,
putting my life
on hold,
sitting through
sleepless nights
waiting, as if
for Godot,
but I only get
wrong numbers
or solicitors.
Each ring
I anticipate
a divine voice,
hoping beyond hope
that this time it is God,
but then it is
a lonely voice
or a distraught student
and again
I missed God,
or did I.
I wonder if maybe
I have heard
from God,
but just haven't
recognised the voice."
~Benedict Auer

Freedom

Since we are celebrating freedom this weekend, I thought I would share one of my favorite passages about the most important kind of freedom. May you find the ultimate freedom!

To the Jews who had believed him, Jesus said, "If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free."
They answered him, "We are Abraham's descendants and have never been slaves of anyone. How can you say that we shall be set free?"
Jesus replied, "I tell you the truth, everyone who sins is a slave to sin. Now a slave has no permanent place in the family, but a son belongs to it forever. So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.
~John 8:31-36