It seems to me that there are those who find themselves happily following God when times are easy, giving glory and praise for the good fortune; and then there are others who lean most on God when things are rough, fasting and praying and depending on God for sustenance and support.
For the most part, I go through cyclical and unpredictable phases, sometimes remembering to hold fast to God in both days of ease and moments of pain, and occasionally doing the exact opposite in similar circumstances. Truly, I think my faithfulness to my own faith is most dependable when the middle ground is holding steady.
What appalls me is that I am so fickle in my devotion to the God of my life.
I am ashamed to pick up my Bible and expect understanding to come when I have been so neglectful in my reading for days on end. I find it hard to pray after going a week without even thinking about talking to God, and I feel like a terrible fraud when my eyes well with tears during praise & worship at church on Sunday when I have just spent the previous day complaining bitterly to myself about every minute detail that sprang to mind.
How can I expect this relationship to thrive when the work is all done by God? When I am unfaithful? When I have acted petulant and have been nothing more than a cranky nag?
A human relationship would never even materialize, much less last, under these circumstances. Rather than being grateful for God's fidelity though, I find Him even more difficult to relate to, knowing that I am so undeserving of His love.
As always, I think I may have gone one step forward recently, only to have taken another three steps back. Then again, Square One is the place I am most comfortable with, so I will begin again with God, begging for forgiveness that I know will be granted, and asking for help that I am certain will be given.
After all, God does not suffer from human shortcomings. He will never be fickle.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
The Beautiful Center
Everything keeps coming back to Jesus.
No matter how I approach thinking about faith and religion, or the way in which I try to come at writing about God or reading about God or talking about God, the only time I end up with any clarity on the matter is when I just brush away most of the intellectual and emotional chatter and focus solely upon Jesus.
The rest of it all just falls away, and there is only peace left. Quiet and rest. Unambiguity.
It goes against everything we believe in as a self-absorbed civilization to set aside our own desires and questions and pursuits, but it is only in doing so that Jesus remains as the sole element left to fill the void, and the purity and simplicity of Jesus, and what he did for us, become so much more distinct.
There is much baggage and uneasiness that comes with bringing up Religion with a capital 'R' with those who are opposed to the entire concept of belief in that which cannot be proven, but the idea of Jesus seems to be universally accepted as the embodiment of love and peace and charity. Referring to myself as an 'evangelical' can be a hackle-raiser, and there is so much politic wrapped up in the term that I almost feel its initial, more precise, definition has been lost amidst the misinformation.
I think I'll stick with 'follower of Jesus' as my creed. There is an innocence there, a cleaving to faith in God rather than faith in ritual and religion, that better expresses why my heart is wrapping itself so tightly around this confidence.
After all, everything keeps coming back to Jesus.
No matter how I approach thinking about faith and religion, or the way in which I try to come at writing about God or reading about God or talking about God, the only time I end up with any clarity on the matter is when I just brush away most of the intellectual and emotional chatter and focus solely upon Jesus.
The rest of it all just falls away, and there is only peace left. Quiet and rest. Unambiguity.
It goes against everything we believe in as a self-absorbed civilization to set aside our own desires and questions and pursuits, but it is only in doing so that Jesus remains as the sole element left to fill the void, and the purity and simplicity of Jesus, and what he did for us, become so much more distinct.
There is much baggage and uneasiness that comes with bringing up Religion with a capital 'R' with those who are opposed to the entire concept of belief in that which cannot be proven, but the idea of Jesus seems to be universally accepted as the embodiment of love and peace and charity. Referring to myself as an 'evangelical' can be a hackle-raiser, and there is so much politic wrapped up in the term that I almost feel its initial, more precise, definition has been lost amidst the misinformation.
I think I'll stick with 'follower of Jesus' as my creed. There is an innocence there, a cleaving to faith in God rather than faith in ritual and religion, that better expresses why my heart is wrapping itself so tightly around this confidence.
After all, everything keeps coming back to Jesus.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Adventures in Fasting
Until recently, fasting never struck me as a serious discipline in the pursuit of God. Sure, I know Jesus did it, but really, a 40-day fast seems a bit unobtainable for us mortals, doesn't it?
But I have watched others as they have embarked upon fasts, some of a very short duration, some that were so loose in what was being given up that they resembled Lent more than an actual fast, and others that blew my mind in the devotion obviously at play. A few years ago, Preston fasted for a number of days, and I felt enormously relieved that I was nursing a baby at the time and was therefore ineligible to join the madness.
Then we participated in a Sunday School group that was reading The Quest: A Ten-Week Journey Into Radical Discipleship, by Chuck Quinley. Chapter Five, to my great dismay, was on fasting. Fasting in secret, no less. For 24 hours.
I blithely said, "No problem." The previous chapters had affected me in a powerful way as I struggled and then chose to obey each directive. This would be tough, I knew. Though Preston and I would be fasting, I would still have to feed the children, and would be at their whim through the duration, thus limiting any distracting activities I could dream up. We picked a day when I would be able to stay home, and not be driving young children around while delirious, and vowed to do it together. No sweat. All a part of getting to know God better. Totally worth it.
Then I saw that caffeine was verboten during this fast, and I started thinking evil thoughts. No coffee? This was gonna suck.
And it DID suck. I rarely made it into a fully prone position all that day, and drank something like 24 cups of decaf herbal tea (the one allowance given by the book, other than water). Preston called mid-morning to see how I was doing, and I vented a long list of grievances, beginning with, "All these kids do is eat," and ending with, "This isn't getting me closer to God AT ALL."
I tried to pray throughout the day (half-heartedly), but each prayer kind of fizzled out a sentence in as I struggled to concentrate. I thought about focusing on a particular need to pray for, but got too grumped to do anything about it.
The only thing I learned was that coffee is a necessary part of my relationship with God. Inspiring, huh?
Many months later though, I had an entirely different experience. During an extended time of great upheaval and difficulty for a loved one, I began to finally learn how to pray for others, (fairly) consistently and with (newly discovered, and very limited) compassion. This was a big step for me - focusing on a long-term basis on others' needs rather than my own, and my understanding of God began to clarify through this (new to me) desire to intercede for another. Then, early one morning in which I knew a pivotal event would be occurring for these loved ones, I decided I would try to pray often and much during the following five or so hours as I awaited word on the outcome. As I prayed my initial prayer, which sounded a little like, "Um, God, please make this happen for [them]...," I felt the need to fast.
It was jarring. And besides, I was already drinking my second cup of coffee. How could I possibly fast? But then it occurred to me that fasting can take many forms, and when I brought it up to Preston, that I was planning to fast all morning from food, but would drink coffee, he said he thought God would probably nudge me and let me know if He disapproved of the drinking-black-coffee-while-fasting thing.
A whole new world opened up that day. The caffeine made me human, but the hunger from lack of food gave me a sort of an edge as the morning wore on, reminding me with every hunger pang that I was to be praying (rather than getting caught up in my routine of busyness and forgetting all about the plan to pray - as so often happens for me).
I learned two things during this fast: that hunger brings the time of prayer into a sharp focus (along with a reminder to rely on God to meet our daily needs), and that praying for others, for God's will to be done in their lives, is far more edifying and productive than just praying for my own needs to be met.
I also learned that I have a long, terrifying road ahead of me if I am ever to truly conquer this self-absorption issue. One morning of fasting for another does not a saint make.
But I have watched others as they have embarked upon fasts, some of a very short duration, some that were so loose in what was being given up that they resembled Lent more than an actual fast, and others that blew my mind in the devotion obviously at play. A few years ago, Preston fasted for a number of days, and I felt enormously relieved that I was nursing a baby at the time and was therefore ineligible to join the madness.
Then we participated in a Sunday School group that was reading The Quest: A Ten-Week Journey Into Radical Discipleship, by Chuck Quinley. Chapter Five, to my great dismay, was on fasting. Fasting in secret, no less. For 24 hours.
I blithely said, "No problem." The previous chapters had affected me in a powerful way as I struggled and then chose to obey each directive. This would be tough, I knew. Though Preston and I would be fasting, I would still have to feed the children, and would be at their whim through the duration, thus limiting any distracting activities I could dream up. We picked a day when I would be able to stay home, and not be driving young children around while delirious, and vowed to do it together. No sweat. All a part of getting to know God better. Totally worth it.
Then I saw that caffeine was verboten during this fast, and I started thinking evil thoughts. No coffee? This was gonna suck.
And it DID suck. I rarely made it into a fully prone position all that day, and drank something like 24 cups of decaf herbal tea (the one allowance given by the book, other than water). Preston called mid-morning to see how I was doing, and I vented a long list of grievances, beginning with, "All these kids do is eat," and ending with, "This isn't getting me closer to God AT ALL."
I tried to pray throughout the day (half-heartedly), but each prayer kind of fizzled out a sentence in as I struggled to concentrate. I thought about focusing on a particular need to pray for, but got too grumped to do anything about it.
The only thing I learned was that coffee is a necessary part of my relationship with God. Inspiring, huh?
Many months later though, I had an entirely different experience. During an extended time of great upheaval and difficulty for a loved one, I began to finally learn how to pray for others, (fairly) consistently and with (newly discovered, and very limited) compassion. This was a big step for me - focusing on a long-term basis on others' needs rather than my own, and my understanding of God began to clarify through this (new to me) desire to intercede for another. Then, early one morning in which I knew a pivotal event would be occurring for these loved ones, I decided I would try to pray often and much during the following five or so hours as I awaited word on the outcome. As I prayed my initial prayer, which sounded a little like, "Um, God, please make this happen for [them]...," I felt the need to fast.
It was jarring. And besides, I was already drinking my second cup of coffee. How could I possibly fast? But then it occurred to me that fasting can take many forms, and when I brought it up to Preston, that I was planning to fast all morning from food, but would drink coffee, he said he thought God would probably nudge me and let me know if He disapproved of the drinking-black-coffee-while-fasting thing.
A whole new world opened up that day. The caffeine made me human, but the hunger from lack of food gave me a sort of an edge as the morning wore on, reminding me with every hunger pang that I was to be praying (rather than getting caught up in my routine of busyness and forgetting all about the plan to pray - as so often happens for me).
I learned two things during this fast: that hunger brings the time of prayer into a sharp focus (along with a reminder to rely on God to meet our daily needs), and that praying for others, for God's will to be done in their lives, is far more edifying and productive than just praying for my own needs to be met.
I also learned that I have a long, terrifying road ahead of me if I am ever to truly conquer this self-absorption issue. One morning of fasting for another does not a saint make.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
God is Everywhere
As far as I am concerned, science and religion are not mutually exclusive. I realize there is a great deal of antagonism that is attributed to the relationship between the two, but I do not subscribe to the theory that only one or the other discipline can be trusted.
Not all Christians think science is Godless, and not all scientists are atheists, but that is as far into the discussion as I care to get.
I do not have an intelligent, well-reasoned, concise answer as to why I believe in God. I just do. I always have. Even during the years when I shunned organized religion and lived, ahem, in a manner not befitting a child of God, I still did not doubt the existence of God. I just didn't want to have anything to do with Him. Youth, invincibility, and self-absorption go hand in hand, after all.
A number of my friends are self-professed atheists, and many get agitated just as the mention of God. So I just don't bring it up usually - my faith, that is.
I have no proof with a capital "P" to back up my beliefs, but I see God everywhere. I see God in the first daffodil of the season, in the trust of a child, in the sunrise over the ocean on a windy day, in the advances of science, and in the beauty of art.
So how do I know God exists? Well, I suppose I don't know it on an intellectual level, but I feel it. I sense God's power and love, and I can't help but think that following the teachings of Jesus, and to attempt to live as Jesus lived, would make the world a better place for all.
Not all Christians think science is Godless, and not all scientists are atheists, but that is as far into the discussion as I care to get.
I do not have an intelligent, well-reasoned, concise answer as to why I believe in God. I just do. I always have. Even during the years when I shunned organized religion and lived, ahem, in a manner not befitting a child of God, I still did not doubt the existence of God. I just didn't want to have anything to do with Him. Youth, invincibility, and self-absorption go hand in hand, after all.
A number of my friends are self-professed atheists, and many get agitated just as the mention of God. So I just don't bring it up usually - my faith, that is.
I have no proof with a capital "P" to back up my beliefs, but I see God everywhere. I see God in the first daffodil of the season, in the trust of a child, in the sunrise over the ocean on a windy day, in the advances of science, and in the beauty of art.
So how do I know God exists? Well, I suppose I don't know it on an intellectual level, but I feel it. I sense God's power and love, and I can't help but think that following the teachings of Jesus, and to attempt to live as Jesus lived, would make the world a better place for all.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Clear Answers to Prayer
This is a strangely tough post to write. God really showed up here today, providing clear answers to a prayer that Preston and I offered up last night, and it seems extraordinarily important to me that I tell this story correctly.
To God be the glory, after all.
Preston decided recently that we should make an effort to pray together (a novel thought after 10 years of marriage, yes?) and it has been nothing short of incredible to watch the effect it has had on us, though that effect is not something I believe I can articulate. Every morning lately, Preston has taken my hand and prayed for us, for our day, for our family. It takes maybe 20 seconds. Nothing profound occurs, unless you consider the small fact that we are finally taking an extra miniscule step together towards God.
Last night, we had our monthly discussion in which I regularly get all freaked out about having the money to pay the bills, and Preston gets frustrated with me for not having enough faith to trust that God will provide. We have this exchange every month, and could probably just pull out the script if we needed to. The words rarely change. It isn't a money fight per se, but it is a rare day indeed in which we both play our assigned roles in this performance without one of us getting rather cranky.
The issue is not one of faith though. I have no doubt that God will take care of us, but I have always held a strict belief that I must hold up my end of the bargain if I should expect God to pour out his blessings. It just seems to me that God would reward us if we are being obedient to Him and if we are following the path He wants us to be on, and if I am blatantly ignoring His guidance and going my own way, then I have no issue with the thought that He might pull out the rug from under me to get my attention.
My theology, as usual, may be a bit flawed on this point, but I think my heart is in the right place on this. I just don't buy into all the promises of material prosperity that some believe are part and parcel of The God Thing.
So it is not that I lack in faith, but rather I doubt my ability to discern God's will for our lives. As a general rule, if I (ahem) remember to ask God for guidance in a decision, I rarely feel that I get a clear answer. I do not know whether this comes from my not paying enough attention, or if God just chooses to be subtle in His answers. For quite some time now, I have questioned if I am doing what God would have me to do. Money has been way more than tight for a good two years, and I have carried around a burden that this is completely my fault. With the addition of a second small child to our little family, and then the added time constraints that crept in when we began homeschooling, my income has dropped considerably and I have watched our debts become a little scarier.
And I have prayed, oh I have prayed long and much to seek direction in this. Am I holding on too tight to my desire to homeschool? Should I be out pounding the pavement to drum up more clients, or should I be patient and know that God will (as He has always done) provide the workload that He expects me to shoulder? Does God want me to sit tight and trust Him as we wait out a tough economy, or is He up there wondering why in samhill I don't go out and get a weekend job when Preston is home to see to the children? Am I managing our money correctly? Am I being obedient?
Last night, during our discussion, as I tried to lay out to Preston my need to hear from God on this, Preston (bless him) reached for my hand and prayed.
This morning, while the kids watched their morning cartoon, I read Acts Chapter 10, and was captivated by how God, in a vision, showed something to Peter three times (Acts 10:10-16). The footnote regarding the phrase 'three times' read, "to make a due impression on Peter."
Sounds nice, yes? Getting a clear vision from God not once, but three times? And have you noticed how many times in the Bible things happen in threes when God is trying to make a point?
And then it happened to us. Within 18 hours of praying for guidance as to whether we were being obedient to God's will, He gave us three confirmations back to back. Not three possible confirmations, but three incredible, awe-inspiring, crystal-clear, highly unusual, far-from-coincidental Words from God.
God spoke. And He used an exclamation point.
It does not escape my notice that as I have finally reached a point where I am hungry to get closer to God, when my husband and I are seeking Him together, when I am eager for God to use me however He sees fit, I am simultaneously feeling God moving amongst us.
I am filled with awe, overwhelmed with gratitude, and I am laying all of today's blessings at God's feet, right where they belong.
To God be the glory, after all.
Preston decided recently that we should make an effort to pray together (a novel thought after 10 years of marriage, yes?) and it has been nothing short of incredible to watch the effect it has had on us, though that effect is not something I believe I can articulate. Every morning lately, Preston has taken my hand and prayed for us, for our day, for our family. It takes maybe 20 seconds. Nothing profound occurs, unless you consider the small fact that we are finally taking an extra miniscule step together towards God.
"For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them." - Matthew 18:20 NIV
Last night, we had our monthly discussion in which I regularly get all freaked out about having the money to pay the bills, and Preston gets frustrated with me for not having enough faith to trust that God will provide. We have this exchange every month, and could probably just pull out the script if we needed to. The words rarely change. It isn't a money fight per se, but it is a rare day indeed in which we both play our assigned roles in this performance without one of us getting rather cranky.
The issue is not one of faith though. I have no doubt that God will take care of us, but I have always held a strict belief that I must hold up my end of the bargain if I should expect God to pour out his blessings. It just seems to me that God would reward us if we are being obedient to Him and if we are following the path He wants us to be on, and if I am blatantly ignoring His guidance and going my own way, then I have no issue with the thought that He might pull out the rug from under me to get my attention.
My theology, as usual, may be a bit flawed on this point, but I think my heart is in the right place on this. I just don't buy into all the promises of material prosperity that some believe are part and parcel of The God Thing.
So it is not that I lack in faith, but rather I doubt my ability to discern God's will for our lives. As a general rule, if I (ahem) remember to ask God for guidance in a decision, I rarely feel that I get a clear answer. I do not know whether this comes from my not paying enough attention, or if God just chooses to be subtle in His answers. For quite some time now, I have questioned if I am doing what God would have me to do. Money has been way more than tight for a good two years, and I have carried around a burden that this is completely my fault. With the addition of a second small child to our little family, and then the added time constraints that crept in when we began homeschooling, my income has dropped considerably and I have watched our debts become a little scarier.
And I have prayed, oh I have prayed long and much to seek direction in this. Am I holding on too tight to my desire to homeschool? Should I be out pounding the pavement to drum up more clients, or should I be patient and know that God will (as He has always done) provide the workload that He expects me to shoulder? Does God want me to sit tight and trust Him as we wait out a tough economy, or is He up there wondering why in samhill I don't go out and get a weekend job when Preston is home to see to the children? Am I managing our money correctly? Am I being obedient?
Last night, during our discussion, as I tried to lay out to Preston my need to hear from God on this, Preston (bless him) reached for my hand and prayed.
This morning, while the kids watched their morning cartoon, I read Acts Chapter 10, and was captivated by how God, in a vision, showed something to Peter three times (Acts 10:10-16). The footnote regarding the phrase 'three times' read, "to make a due impression on Peter."
Sounds nice, yes? Getting a clear vision from God not once, but three times? And have you noticed how many times in the Bible things happen in threes when God is trying to make a point?
And then it happened to us. Within 18 hours of praying for guidance as to whether we were being obedient to God's will, He gave us three confirmations back to back. Not three possible confirmations, but three incredible, awe-inspiring, crystal-clear, highly unusual, far-from-coincidental Words from God.
God spoke. And He used an exclamation point.
It does not escape my notice that as I have finally reached a point where I am hungry to get closer to God, when my husband and I are seeking Him together, when I am eager for God to use me however He sees fit, I am simultaneously feeling God moving amongst us.
I am filled with awe, overwhelmed with gratitude, and I am laying all of today's blessings at God's feet, right where they belong.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
That Holy Spirit Thing (again)
This study of the Holy Spirit still has me tied up in knots. Actually, I find the knots getting more complicated, rather than less, as I dig deeper. Under normal circumstances, when delving into a new topic of study, I would pick an author as my expert and start there, branching out as I ingested the basics.
This particular subject doesn't necessarily lend itself well to that approach. The Bible clearly is the preeminent textbook on the matter, and God would be the expert for me to tap as a mentor, but those facets just up the daunting factor, if you know what I mean.
A few weeks back, when I first tried to learn about the Day of Pentecost, I tried to dumb the subject down so that I could 'get it' right off the bat, and I just jumped on the thought of that moment being the Holy Spirit's first entry onto the stage when, in fact, that isn't the case.
The Holy Spirit is first introduced on page one of the Bible, of course, and there is ample enough mention of the Holy Spirit speaking through (or speaking to) Old Testament figures, so the book of Acts obviously wasn't the birth of the third piece of the trinity. Acts may not even be the first instance of speaking in tongues, though I think I have been laboring under that assumption for some time.
I think my frightening lack of knowledge on this topic makes a clear case for blogging quietly here. The last thing I want to do, after all, is say something that is completely theologically incorrect, and have someone read it and believe it as well-researched truth. Then again, it should be abundantly obvious that I am expert on nothing except coffee consumption (if you know me at all, that is).
The only absolutely true knowledge I have of God can be summed up relatively succinctly: My faith is in God. He has my (and your) best interests at heart, and my sole focus should be on glorifying God and on sharing His love and His word with unbelievers.
That said, my life is obviously out of focus and I am a lousy example of a life lived for God, but I am fairly certain that it is through the Holy Spirit that I will grow closer to God, will be better able to discern God's plans for my life, and will learn how to be able to share God with others.
So I think I am back at square one. Unless my semantics are thoroughly screwed up (which is highly possible), I have received the Holy Spirit through repentance and belief, but have not yet been filled with the Holy Spirit.
I am ever humbled.
This particular subject doesn't necessarily lend itself well to that approach. The Bible clearly is the preeminent textbook on the matter, and God would be the expert for me to tap as a mentor, but those facets just up the daunting factor, if you know what I mean.
A few weeks back, when I first tried to learn about the Day of Pentecost, I tried to dumb the subject down so that I could 'get it' right off the bat, and I just jumped on the thought of that moment being the Holy Spirit's first entry onto the stage when, in fact, that isn't the case.
The Holy Spirit is first introduced on page one of the Bible, of course, and there is ample enough mention of the Holy Spirit speaking through (or speaking to) Old Testament figures, so the book of Acts obviously wasn't the birth of the third piece of the trinity. Acts may not even be the first instance of speaking in tongues, though I think I have been laboring under that assumption for some time.
I think my frightening lack of knowledge on this topic makes a clear case for blogging quietly here. The last thing I want to do, after all, is say something that is completely theologically incorrect, and have someone read it and believe it as well-researched truth. Then again, it should be abundantly obvious that I am expert on nothing except coffee consumption (if you know me at all, that is).
The only absolutely true knowledge I have of God can be summed up relatively succinctly: My faith is in God. He has my (and your) best interests at heart, and my sole focus should be on glorifying God and on sharing His love and His word with unbelievers.
That said, my life is obviously out of focus and I am a lousy example of a life lived for God, but I am fairly certain that it is through the Holy Spirit that I will grow closer to God, will be better able to discern God's plans for my life, and will learn how to be able to share God with others.
So I think I am back at square one. Unless my semantics are thoroughly screwed up (which is highly possible), I have received the Holy Spirit through repentance and belief, but have not yet been filled with the Holy Spirit.
I am ever humbled.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Inhibited
I do not doubt God's existence, nor do I take the Biblical narrative of Jesus' life and death with any grains of salt. I have no trouble believing in the virgin birth and the resurrection, and I do not question the benevolence of the Father.
What I do doubt is my own ability to be passionate in worship, my desire to truly live for Jesus and to listen for instructions from God (and to obey those instructions without feigning deafness).
You know those people in church that throw their hands in the air during praise and worship? I am not one of them. Worship does often move me, but not in a demonstrative sort of way. I don't shout 'Amen' nor do I lift my face to heaven in a spirit of absolute devotion, and I can't be sure whether this is a fault that I should be taking care to rectify or if it is acceptable to God for some to be less gregarious than others.
There is so much I am unsure of, but the questions I harbor regard my own faithfulness, not that of God.
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