the becomings of an anthropologist...

It's been interesting starting my new job @ Anthropologie. Not only am I surrounded by uniquely beautiful things, but a mosaic of humanity. People from all walks, cultures, styles, orientations, religions. Needless to say, conversations have been more than interesting...I find amusement in the irony that "Anthropology" in translation means the study of human beings, everywhere and throughout time. And as I transition into finding my place in my new working family, the endeavor to consistently live out my faith in a secular environment is constantly before me. Up to my elbows In the midst of stacks of inventory, I was processing today how religion has offended countless of the lost, broken, searching...not for it's simple truths, but for the "believers" who get caught up in seeking to be right, and forget to seek first the kingdom...
And it dawned on me...the only people that Jesus offended in his lifestyle ministry were religious people.
Rule bound.
Book bent.
Leaders.
History makers.
Desperately wanting to be right...
to the point of taking down whatever stood in their way.

Now hot water is something God has never been afraid of encountering.
WITH PURPOSE.
Jesus healed on the Sabbath.
He associated with the rich and famous,
and the down and out.
He influenced world leaders,
and changed the lives of prostitutes.
He showed compassion
without compromising truth.
He showed grace
without compromising justice.
He didn't seek to prove his point of view...
but he was always ready to share it.
His life drew people,
not by force
but with a force that was impacting,
Influencing,
Life altering.
Eternity changing.

Because his purpose was not to win an argument,
but to see the thieves at the end of the day
receiving paradise, and the love of an amazing God.

how do I love thee?

"If what we call love doesn't take us beyond ourselves, it is not really love."

Ouch!

I read this phrase, penned by Oswald Chambers, and cannot stop threading it through all parts of my brain.

The parts that ponder God.
The parts that hold my family.
The parts that hold my friends.
Even the parts that still hold a mystery...

and I wondered at my capacity to love.
Truly love.
Surrendered.
Sacrificially.
Completely.

excerpts from my journal...

A mild form of amusement for me is to reread my journals. I get a good laugh over the things that gave my head a spin, the gong shows that I have walked through, and the journey of life and growth I am always a traveler of.

Last nite I found something written across the pages that exposed a disturbing part of my warped mind...

"I am either caught in the desperate thought of wanting something WAY beyond possible reach, or the disappointment that I am destined to look but never have. They sound similar, but the first reflects fragile hope, while the second is a miscalculation of thought that God is punishing me. The reality of both is that I still wake up and go to bed alone."

Maybe this connects with the singles of the crowd.
Perhaps some of the married.
There is an element of truth that connects to all of us.
What we are hoping for could be anything...

A job.
A house.
An acceptance letter.
A relationship.
A child.
Healing.
Reconciliation.
One more chance.

And in not receiving our elusive desires, we can sometimes slip into the land of deferred hope, left with the sinking feeling that we will be the last ones in the class picked for the team. Either there's something wrong with us, or something wrong with God.

I asked really nicely...
I followed all the rules...
Why?
What are we waiting for?

Because we, of all people, should know what is best for us.
And the time it is best in.

And yet I have prime examples in my life where what I thought was a "perfect opportunity...missed..." in the long run has proved to be an "opportunity...perfectly missed"...

I don't always understand God's timing.
I don't always "get" the big picture.
I don't pretend to know why some people get all the breaks, while others score the "character building journeys"...
But what I have been learning is what trust looks like...
not blind, but eyes wide open to the tangible
with a heart expectant in the unseen.For now that means crawling into an empty bed...
but recognizing I am not alone.

on the outside of the circle

This is what my inner circle tends to look like...a closed environment of a hand-select few I enjoy spending my time with,
sharing life with,
being open with.
They are the ones I am comfortable with...
can say almost anything to
and accept me for who I am.
I am not afraid of being seen beside them in the street.
I pick up their phone calls.
reply to their emails.
and unlock my door when they come down my driveway.

God's been convicting me of something as of late...the internals of circles.
The unspoken membership requirements.
The unwritten rules of admittance.
And I had to wonder,
would Jesus get an invite in?
If he was socially awkward?
Tucked his shirts into his shorts and hiked up his socks?
Dropped corny pick up lines?
Or told dry jokes?
Sure...we'd tolerate him in public, and extend a civil sympathetic conversation,
but would we invite him to our social outings?
our house parties?
Christmas dinner?

"...there was nothing beautiful or majestic about his appearance, nothing to attract us to him. He was despised and rejected...
We turned our backs on him and looked the other way.
He was despised and we did not care." (Isaiah 53)

This is where we have to turn off our human perceptions and ask God to crank up our spiritual discernment. We naturally gravitate to people who are similar to us...but we need to come to the realization that this is what God's circle looks like...one that sees the spiritually awkward, and is not ashamed to call them not just his friends, but his children.
One that nailed social protocol to a cross and hung in our place.
One that calls us to see past our own comfort zones and into a place that recognizes each soul as a being created in the image of God.

living in uncertainty...

I like to have a game plan. Know where I'm going. Visualize my target.
That hasn't been the reality of my life the past couple months.
And as much as I'd like to know...I don't.
As much as I want answers..they're not there.
I am not in control...It took Oswald to give me a little perspective last nite...

Our natural inclination is to be so precise— trying always to forecast accurately what will happen next— that we look upon uncertainty as a bad thing. We think that we must reach some predetermined goal, but that is not the nature of the spiritual life. The nature of the spiritual life is that we are certain in our uncertainty. Consequently, we do not put down roots. Our common sense says, "Well, what if I were in that circumstance?" We cannot presume to see ourselves in any circumstance in which we have never been.

Certainty is the mark of the commonsense life— gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, not knowing what tomorrow may bring. This is generally expressed with a sigh of sadness, but it should be an expression of breathless expectation. We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God. As soon as we abandon ourselves to God and do the task He has placed closest to us, He begins to fill our lives with surprises. When we become simply a promoter or a defender of a particular belief, something within us dies. That is not believing God — it is only believing our belief about Him. Jesus said, ". . . unless you . . . become as little children . . ." (Matthew 18:3 ). The spiritual life is the life of a child. We are not uncertain of God, just uncertain of what He is going to do next. If our certainty is only in our beliefs, we develop a sense of self-righteousness, become overly critical, and are limited by the view that our beliefs are complete and settled. But when we have the right relationship with God, life is full of spontaneous, joyful uncertainty and expectancy. Jesus said, ". . . believe also in Me" (John 14:1 ), not, "Believe certain things about Me". Leave everything to Him and it will be gloriously and graciously uncertain how He will come in— but you can be certain that He will come. Remain faithful to Him.

turning point

Sitting in the back room @ school, waiting for a laminator to heat up, I felt the urgency of squeezing in some morning devos, so I hauled out the camo and opened up in the psalms. Hoping for something to divert me from my present personal frustration, seeking direction, and craving connection, I flipped to Chapter 13...

"O Lord, how long will you forget me? Forever?
How long will you look the other way?"

Hahahaha....talk about connecting to my headspace in the opening verse!
Hello?!!!
Remember me down here?!!!
Relocated to the arctic wastelands of Fort Saskatchewan?!!
My whole "visitation" to the western world was inspired by the need to seek God. To quiet down my life and listen. To get some answers...some direction - without feeling the pressures of being pushed and pulled in every direction by well-meaning people in my life.

And so far I've got nothing.
Nothing but silence.
And silence is something I'm not usually comfortable with.

You see, I have a problem relaxing...I'm a bit of a workaholic actually. I want to make sure I am maximizing my potential.
I want to live with purpose.
I want to be intentional in every area of my life.
And now it's God's turn to be intentional.
Intentionally silent.
Because His silence is forcing me to stop.
To be patient.
To rest in Him.
To restore my weary spirit.
To rebuild the broken.
To lay burdens down.
To learn to trust.
To exhale.

If He gives me direction, I must go.
If He speaks, I must be obedient in response.
But if he is silent, I must be still and wait on him.
Because, you see, sometimes God's silence is not punishment...
it is a blessing of rest to lives grown weary.
And although we could probably push out another mile,
he gives us what we need in season...
Because he loves us.
Because he is good.

"Restore the sparkle to my eyes...
I trust in your unfailing love.
I will rejoice because you have rescued me.
I will sing to the Lord because he is good to me."

In six short verses, David brings us full circle from the pit of despair, to the reminder of the hope that lives within us...the God who loves us.
And so I wait in silence, knowing the sparkle days will come...

permanent residence at the zoo...

The past few weeks of trying to find a church to intentionally sow into while I live in Alberta has felt like an old game played on first nites of camp. Everyone would get a piece of paper with the name of an animal on it. At the flick of the light switch, you would walk around the room, giving your best impression of the animal in attempts to locate like-sounding suckers.

So the lights have been shut off, and I'm bleating like a sheep, wondering why I can't hang out with the horses for a while...
The church is a phenomenon of the modern age...a walking paradox of beliefs, understandings, practices, experiences, convictions, externals. I find it fascinating that ONE body unified by ONE God can host such extremes! The funny thing (and scary thing at times) is that there is no stereotype for Christians. We are not bound by a limited demographic, class, gender, or style. We bear the artistic brush of a unique God using different mediums to paint a portrait of His bride that lies beyond human definition.

I have walked through the doors of countless buildings, all perfectly content with the thought that the way they "do church" is "the way" church is done. And as they sit comfortably in the pews of their understanding, they often can get caught up with thanking the Lord they are not one of "those people"...

The ones that sing only psalms.
Hymns.
Choruses.

"Those people"
The ones that stand poker straight.
Raise their hands.
Fall on the floor.

"Those people"
The theology driven.
The emotionally experienced.
The emergent.

"Those people"
Old-fashioned.
Trendsetting.
Modern.

But if we will only open our eyes a little wider, we will realize we all fall under the category of "those people"...

We have tidy labels that try to define "us" from "those" people...
Charismatic.
Baptist.
Reformed.
Alliance.
Pentecostal.
Lutheran.
Countless threads of differences, all claiming to follow ONE risen God.

As I've sat in the back rows of churches I am a physical stranger to, I wonder at what God's thoughts would be of today's church. What He thinks of the lines that divide us...the styles that separate us. I often wrestle with the reality of what the body of Christ looks like...
The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up one whole body. So it is with the body of Christ..."

We have all been baptized into ONE body by ONE Spirit, and we all share the same Spirit...

but our bodies have have many parts, and God has put each part just where He wants it. How strange a body would be if it had only one part..." I Cor. 12:12ff

Thankfully there are those who long to see the body of Christ function as a whole.
But there are those who amputate body parts that are not like them.
There are those who are ignorant of any part but their own.
There are those who don't care for anything outside the lines they've drawn in the sand.

There are those within the body that are so tightly laced, they cut off circulation - not only to the rest of the body...but to their soul. On the flip there are those so loose in their beliefs, they are tolerant to anything and everything crawling into bed with them. Being a part of the body means celebrating the mosaic of differences, while maintaining the truth that has set us free.

Being a Christian involves an action on our part: an intentional connection - not just to Christ, but to His body. His bride.

And what a bride she is!
The honeymoon is definitely over...and waking up beside her has been a little bit scary at times...
and yet I need to see her and love her as Christ does.

And so I find myself in places I may not necessarily have chosen for myself,
but I'm growing. I'm learning. I'm sowing...
I'm hanging out with another species, appreciating the differences, and recognizing we are all a part of the same zoo!

Anybody wanna hang out with the chimps next?!!

going public

I feel like I owe someone a public apology. I've been in a bit of a funk as of late, and it is often the ones that are closest to us that bear the brunt of our mood swings, short circuits, and blundering mishaps and bad attitudes. So here I write - for the awareness of my entire facebook and blog community - because I've wounded a friend, and if I can right a wrong - I figure this will be a partial offering of peace...

Here goes nothing...

I'm sorry...I know I didn't drop you a line like I said I was going to. The part of me that wanted to talk was afraid of what we would chat about, and avoiding the opportunity to spill the beans on my current brainwave has become habit. I tend to suck at asking for help, or even making an attempt to reach out...I know you are always there for me - I don't know what I'm afraid of!

I'm sorry I lied. I was TOTALLY the kid with the hand in the cookie jar, hoping that my lie would blind you from what you saw. I don't know why I couldn't just come clean...you knew...and know...and I knew and know that. I was stalling for time...for the bell to save me.

I'm sorry for hiding out like a naked sinner in a garden. Like I could avoid confrontation! I had a momentary lapse where the bottom of the bush seemed like the safest place to stay rather than face the music. I can close the door on my room and shut the world out...and yet you wait patiently outside. Heaven knows why...

I'm sorry that I blamed you...it wasn't your fault. In my meager attempts at trying to understand something without full communication - it gave me very little peace of mind to pin the blame somewhere. Anywhere but on me, or in something I can't understand. It always seems to be a magnetic pull to attach things to you - you are an easy target because you're so patient and will take it like a champ.

I'm sorry that I second-guessed you. I know you told me a million times, and you've never let me down before. Why would this time be any different? And yet - it all seems too good to be true...I'm waiting for you to trip up. To disappoint me. To leave me hanging. I mean, it's not like I haven't done it to you...

I'm sorry for ignoring you...were you talking to me?! It seems easier at times to ask forgiveness for not listening, than failing at what you needed me to do as your friend. I've gotten so used to strategically avoiding what you say in the hopes that I can avert the discomfort of confrontation. I'm being selfish again...

I'm sorry for getting impatient with you. I, of all people, should appreciate fine timing! But ever since I was a kid, I always have had my finger in the batter before the oven's even preheated! I have a hard time waiting for something when my expectations are so extremely high. I must have sounded like the whiny child in the back seat...are we there yet?!!...and having been the driver on many cross-country trips, I should have appreciated the mileage it takes to get to a destination.

I'm sorry that when we were out the other day, there were moments I pretended not to be with you. I'm sure you probably noticed me hiding behind the rack, or plugging in my ipod and plugging out of the public conversation. I wasn't in the mood for sharing, or explaining, or connecting...


I'm sorry God...

for my lack of faith
for my limited trust
for boxing you in
and boxing you out.

You reflect a friendship I cannot comprehend.
May I endeavor to live in the light of that.

learning to let go...

There is something in the familiar that is comfortable.
Secure.
Empowering.
Safe.
There is something in the familiar that flirts with the endangering line of becoming static.
Hindering.
Routine.

A couple Sundays ago marked the last service in the place lovingly dubbed "The Big Blue House." I wasn't church-hopping when I first stumbled through the doors of this old church turned bar turned church, and I definitely wasn't expecting that the other side of those lime green doors would become home to the past two years of my spiritual growth.


It wouldn't have been my choice for a church home. It was completely on the opposite spectrum of what I had been raised in.
And yet it was the perfect fit.
I am traditionally untraditional.
I love the creative aspect of God.
I love the unique.
I love the challenge of change.
I love the comfort of the uncomfortable.
I love unpolished diamonds.
And I had come to love this place - scary bathrooms and all - ridiculously cold, dark, tattooed and falling apart.


But the time had come to say good-bye to a physical place that had come to mean so much, and hold so much. And in those quiet moments, writing on the walls that had seen so much change and growth in my spiritual journey, God spoke these words...

"You cannot hold on and press on at the same time."

This single phrase rippled through everything current in my life.
Sometimes we are holding on so tightly to things, that we miss out on the opportunity for God to take us to new places, and trust Him for new things.
Whether it is past experiences,
the security of a job
circles of friends
family
lifestyles
homes...
we become comfortable with the familiar and what we can see and hold.

"You cannot hold on and press on at the same time."

These words came at a time when I was saying good-bye...not just to a building, but to a life.
A life I was fairly comfortable in.
I knew where everything was.
I had a circle of family and friends who loved me.
I had plans for the weekend.
I knew my purpose.
What I held in my hands was good...but could I let it go for something "different"?
Something that didn't promise security?
Somewhere WAY outside my comfort zone?
Could I give up all that I had for something unseen?
And as I pondered these things, I could hear the whisper...

"Do you trust me?"

Because that is ultimately what it comes down to.
Trust.
Faith in the unseen.
Believing that the God of love who has blessed our lives with amazing things,
can one-up what He already has accomplished.
It's the vision to see what is in our hands is good...
but looking forward and knowing that something just as good (if not better) is waiting for us in the bend of the road.
And for God to fill our hands with new things, we need the strength to open our clenched fists with expectation.

For me that meant climbing in my car, traveling 3400 kms, through wind, snow, and ungodly cold stretches of Manitoba,
to sit in my new room in Edmonton,
No job.
No church.
No friends.
No security.
trying not to freak out over no longer being in control,
having more "free time" than I've had in the last 5 years combined...

And as the noise of life dies down,
I am in wonder at what God's about to do.
Open hearted.
Open handed.
Waiting.
Expecting.


"Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on..." Phil.3:13

when life gives you ashes...

There is something in the framework of our humanity that is uncomfortable with the broken. It can be somewhat unpleasant at times...
Messy.
And there is something within us that sees the mess and wants to fix it.
The humanity within us switches to auto pilot disaster relief.
Instead of waiting for the dust to settle,
we are already on the ground with supplies
and good-intentioned plans to cure -
Disease ravaged countries.
Natural disaster zones.
Other people's problems.

Don't get me wrong - there are immediate needs that will always need to be met.
But sometimes in our rush to silence whatever is unsettling our thoughts, we overstep the immediate need and start applying our band aid ideas to whatever we can get our hands on. And sometimes the very things that we think will help the situation the most, end up being the very things that will hinder the process of healing.

It was 4 years ago around this time that I trekked down to Mississippi with a hundred high school students. I remember, like it was yesterday, driving past the remnants of what Hurricane Katrina left behind.
Those pictures are forever burned into my memory banks.


It was sobering to set foot on front yards children used to play in,
silenced by a torrent long past.
To look at streets once lined with houses,
now long stretches of twisted debris - stripped bare of life.


To walk on the leveled foundations of what were once homes -
places representing years of life.
laughter.
memories.

gone.

in a moment.

It was a community ripped open at the seams,
devastated.
grieving.
And we were strangers
treading upon their exposed hearts.


It was brokenness I was privileged to see only a fragment of...
and yet that brief walk gave me a humbled perspective.
One of the things we were told while working there was that physically repairing something wasn't the main avenue of helping the broken.
It was to listen.
To let the people share their stories of the storm,
and their journey beyond it.
To walk beside them through their morning after...
However long.
However awkward.

Because you see, to walk is part of the process.
It is sometimes the brokenness that we have to painfully walk through
that will bring complete healing in the end.
If we had just gone and repaired their homes on the outside
we would have missed the bleeding heart on the inside.

Not every cut can be treated with a band aid.

Sometime in your lifetime you may be called to places of brokenness.
In a moment.
Some situations will be messy -
Broken families...
Broken communities...
Broken people...

And there aren't always easy answers.
Instant solutions.
Comfortable conversations.

Sometimes the immediate need is not to fix the problem.
It is to walk -
at times in silence -
thru a brokenness beyond our understanding or rationale.
It is to watch the weak attempt to get back on their feet
and stand beside them
in the morning after their storm
It is to weep with those who weep.

Because sometimes we need to be broken for a while.

It will be a journey of pain...
little steps amidst the rubble.
It will be a journey of time...
some days only moment by moment.
But it will be a journey of healing...

God...give me the strength to walk in Your way
...and the wisdom not to get in the way.

Christmas Gong Shows

Forget the Christmas bells a-ringing...
this year resounded with (((gongs)))
and plenty of them!
I'm not sure what I was really expecting. Given the past couple months, I should have read the clues and KNOWN that this Christmas would be different. I guess I was throwing my last threads of hope that something magically would happen on the 24th of December that would make everything I have been going through disappear into the abyss of what we know and understand of the "holiday spirit".
Boy...was I in for a surprise!
and not the kind that you want to find wrapped under your tree!
From armed robbers,
pouring rain,
child meltdowns,
puke,
exploding diapers,
bath oil doubling as shampoo,
unsettled stomaches,...
it was definitely not the peaceful evening I was desperately in need of!
There was a time in the evening where it was only my dad and I sitting at the table eating "family" dinner, and just as I was reaching the point of feeling sorry for myself, I had a minor epiphany...
this is Christmas.
It wasn't about meeting expectations
but meeting a need.
As I thought of all the travelers caught in airports this year due to some wicked weather, I couldn't help but think of the travelers at the first Christmas, called away from their homes by a foreign ruling, into towns with not enough rooms to house them.
Camping out in streets.
In stables.
And I was reminded of the reality that the Prince of Peace came in the midst of chaos,
persecution,
inconvenience,
animals,
shepherds,
jealous rulers,
simplicity.
The Messiah came
not as expected
but as needed.
And His birth brings hope
in the midst of our chaos,
despite our chaos
because of our chaos...
not just in the closing days of December
but every day
throughout the year.

I'm looking forward to the new year,
and the gong shows that will definitely find me out...
but I go being reminded that there will be NOTHING that I will face
that isn't first answered
by the gift in a manager
one chaotic Christmas...

on repeat...

The last few months have brought a blizzard of events -
life happenings that weigh heavy on the heart and spirit -
seemingly relentless and bottomless...
to the point that I am tempted to unplug the phone,
lock the doors,
and stay in my bed.
For a while...
a long while.

I know my writings over the past couple months have been birthed out of the shadows of what I am going through,
and I am grateful for those who have journeyed thru with me.
I wish I could write something a little more “cheery” (I hate being a downer)
but the things that have found their way from my thoughts
to the meager scribblings you may have the opportunity to read
is raw.
real.
honest.
And part of the process of healing
and growing
that I am experiencing.
We have seasons to paint the roses
and seasons to paint the storm clouds.
Both are balancers of life.

And in this life, every once in a while I will get what I call a “season song”...
a tune that I just have to listen to over and over
either because its extremely catchy and well written,
or because it deeply connects with something I am going through.

Last nite I crawled into my bed
plugged myself into my ipod
and put this song on repeat...

Everyone needs compassion
Love that’s never failing
Let mercy fall on me
Everyone needs forgiveness
The kindness of a Saviour
The hope of nations

Saviour
He can move the mountains
My God is mighty to save
He is mighty to save
Forever
Author of salvation
He rose and conquered the grave
Jesus conquered the grave

So take me as You find me
All my fears and failures
Fill my life again
I give my life to follow
Everything I believe in
Now I surrender

Shine Your light and let the whole world see
We’re singing
For the glory of the risen King

Right now I am standing encircled by a looming mountain range,
needing to be reminded that I believe in a God that is Mighty to Save.
That He will move the mountains.
That He will fill my life again...

May we continue to have the strength to sing...
and to shine...

oh Canada...

In light of the recent disturbances on the Canadian political scene, I was reminded of some lines I had written during an early morning flight home from Calgary. In the wake of elections, it was a moment to look out my plane window and reflect on the land I call home...
I love my country.
I love living here.
I love what each province brings to the table.
(I included a map for my American friends!!!)For my Canadian friends - I just want to remind you that we live in an amazing country...full of diversity and potential. Despite our differences, we learn to work together. Regardless of which party is in leadership - the current challenge to democracy as we know it is appalling.
We, the people, can no longer remain silent.
Will we live up to being the true north, strong and free?
Will we fight to be ONE nation?
Or is being a Canadian about power at all costs?
What will be the sacrifice...
the compromise...
and are we ready to pay the price?

Looking down from lofty flight
upon the patchwork laced with grey
silent wings press ever onward
o'er the coming of the day.
Patch by patch, diverse in nature
'cross the miles, blanket spread;
simple stitching, interwoven,
bind a country by a thread.
Lost within the fragment motion
frozen in the yawning beams
one is blinded for a moment
to the tearing at the seams.
Ravaged land, of crimson purchase,
stretching freedom coast to coast
e'er to lie, the sleeping beauty,
midst ambitions selfish boast.
From the still, a breath of morning,
in the waking of the dawn
dissolving brotherhood to foe...
forgotten memory - she is one.
A whisper, softly, lend an ear -
hear her song, to sons command:
fist to fist, humble unfurling
for the healing of her land.

waiting for the dawn...

The last couple of weeks have been shadowed by a lingering darkness.
Darkness that chills the bone
clouds the mind
and wearies the soul.
It was the collision point of multiple burdens in the reality of the unpredictable twists of life, and my spirit was numb with the journey,
full of a heaviness I couldn't shake.

This past year has brought the arrival of a plethora of real hurts and struggles:
Broken marriages.
Broken homes.
Broken hearts.
Addictions.
Cancer without cure.
Depression.
Death.
And the list goes on...
each representing countless hours of prayer
each met with what felt like defeating silence.
And in the overwhelming moments of feeling that I had missed something somewhere, an exasperation choked my lungs -

"Are you even there?"
"Are you even listening?!!"

I crawled into my bed that nite,
hoping my closing eyes would shut out the heaviness of my heart.

"God doesn't turn all things to good...He just gives us the strength to live through them." These words followed by a list of dire situations and hurting people burned into my already battered brain.

Was it true?
It's nice to say that God turns all things to good...I mean, that's what the Bible says.
But what is our human reality of that?
It's one thing to say something you believe,
and an entirely different thing when you are called to walk that out in life...
sometimes down dark tunnels,
surrounded by silence,
surrounded by the coldness of the moment,
and no speck of light in view to bring hope of the end.

I was reminded of a verse God had given me earlier that week for a friend...
He delights in every detail of their lives.
Though they stumble, they will never fall,
for the Lord holds them by the hand. Psalm 37:34b-24

But the feeling of this moment was that God had forgotten,
that He wasn't listening.
that it wasn't hitting the priority end of His list of things to do today.
And I was broken...weary...
feeling like the battered wife of life,
crying myself to sleep.
Stumbling...

...and it came.
An outstretched hand,
a vice-grip on my spirit,
a beautiful surprise...
through the "not so random" email of a student...
through the words of a song...
through the prayer of a friend...
precisely timed.
I knew God was reminding me He was listening.
He was gently teaching me that my feelings don't define Him.
That He was aware of what I needed, when I needed it.
Because He cares about the details...
about the falling sparrows.

And I learned something about prayer...
Sometimes they are like seeds - going through the process of growth before we see the fruit of them. It takes time - even years - for them to be fully answered.
Sometimes our prayers affect the immediate,
sometimes they invest in the future,
but every one of them is heard by a living God
who formed us in the depths
and will reach us in the depths.And in crawling out of bed to face another day,
I know it is in the times you feel like giving up that you need to press harder...
for sunrise is just a lingering moment away from darkness.

forty

As some of you may or may not be aware - I have spent the last 40 days fasting. For those of you unfamiliar with this practice, it is the sacrificing of something in your life to help you spiritually focus for a season. It is something that I've done in the past - but this time around I wanted something that would actually be work for me to cut out. So I chose solid food.
I know...what was I thinking?
I love food.
I love making food.
I love the texture of food.
I didn't realize how much it was a part of my life...until now.
It has been an interesting venture - nothing of what my anticipations would have wagered for - and at the end of it all, I am somewhat in a daze. In the wake of the past week, I'll be honest, I don't really feel like sharing. But I know that if I don't do it now...I never will. I have experienced the fingerprints of God on my life in a deep way - not in the way I was expecting -and I am changed...and changing...
The one thing that has amazed me through it all is this: not one person in the last 40 days asked me what God was saying - they were more concerned with the weight I must be losing and the food I wasn't eating. The almighty scale posed more interest than the spiritual.
And in truth, keeping my focus off the physical and onto the unseen has been the battle over the past 6 weeks. And as I've sipped my way through two blenders, a couple national elections, and the loss of a friend - today is the day of perspective and looking back on the journey...

Blenders are my new best friend.
Squash soup is off the menu for a long while.
I do not go to bed hungry.
I have a better understanding of what manna may have tasted like after 40 days - let alone 40 years!
Living on the edge is undertaking Thanxgiving dinner when you can't pre-taste anything!
Guacamole smoothies just don't compete with the real deal.
If it can't be blended...it can be melted.
Cheesecake freezes.
"Do you have a blender?" is not a crazy question to a waiter who is dressed like a hot dog.
Creativity is a good solution to deprivation!
Food takes up a lot of my thoughts.
Not eating is my choice - not my circumstance.
We take for granted the simple things God gives us.
I'm good at planning...it's the sticking to the plan that is work!
Writing my daily journey in my journal was a good idea...poorly executed.
Sacrifice is hard for selfish people.
I have a lot to learn about prayer.
I have a lot to learn about God.
I do not fully understand sacrifice.

Last nite I was lying in bed, unable to sleep after an exhaustive day of grieving. I was crossing a finish line - not in the burst of victorious home stretch adrenaline as I had anticipated, but crawling - wearied from the journey.
There are many things God carried my spirit through in the past 40 days - some I have shared. Some I may never share. I found it interesting my last day of fasting was spent at the graveside of a young friend and mother...I started the fast looking for answers, and ending it with more questions than I had begun with.

This, my friend, is life.
Unpredictable.
Searching.
Wrestling.
Sacrificing.
Seeking change.
Subject to change.
No guarantees.

In a moment - it all changes, and you realize it's not just about setting aside 40 days to gain perspective - but a lifetime.
Every moment counts.
Every day is a gift.
How you choose to unwrap that is your choice.

Seek the Lord while you can find him.
Call on him now while he is near.
Isaiah 55:6