"Light(s) Please"

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
Luke 2:8-14 (King James Version)

My favorite Christmas program, bar none, is "A Charlie Brown Christmas", especially the scene where Linus walks out onto the stage and says "Lights Please". Every time I read the passage about the birth of Jesus, I hear Linus' voice in my head has he explains to Charlie Brown what Christmas is really all about.

After all the Christmas messages we've heard or read, what is there left to say about Christmas that hasn't already been said. Jesus is the greatest Gift. He is the reason for the season. He is Emmanuel, God with us.

What strikes me this year however, is something the angel said to the shepherds. They were told about 'tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people'. In the NIV it says 'good news of great joy that will be for all people' (italics & bold mine).

Is Jesus, God with us, actually good news for all people? - absolutely.

Do all people know that to be true? - No, sadly they don't.

Way too many people only know poverty, oppression, disease, cruelty and fear.

It was an angel who made the initial proclamation of God's unfathomable promise made with the birth of the babe in Bethlehem, but it is up to us to bear witness to the fulfillment of that promise in the person of Jesus Christ.

As I get ready to celebrate the joy of Christmas with my family and loved ones, I must pause to consider those around the world who live without joy, without dignity, and without hope.

When Christmas comes around next year I want to bake, buy and wrap with more joy because of what I will do in the next 12 months to make sure that more people have reason to celebrate what Christmas really is all about.

Light(s) please...

Meditations of my Heart

“Christian meditation, very simply, is the ability to hear God’s voice and obey his word. It is that simple.” Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline, page 17.

It really is that simple, I guess. Since beginning my practice of meditation last spring, I have made a few discoveries – about meditation and about myself.

My problem is that left to myself I do meditate, but on the wrong things. I somewhat obsessively ruminate on thoughts that are not helpful or healthy. I all too often fail to take captive every thought and make it obedient to Christ as exhorted to do in 2 Corinthians 10:5 Instead, I hear my own (or the enemy’s) voice swirling around in my head, drowning out the still small voice of the One who gives life and health to my soul.

Through the summer, I’ve been reminded of my desperate need to make time to meditate on God’s voice speaking through Scripture and on His voice speaking to my spirit. The problem is the how…how do I sit down somewhere and meditate on the things of God without all the other thoughts elbowing their way in?

In my discouragement and frustration I made a discovery. The truth is I’ve actually practiced the discipline of mediation for a long time. I write. I am a writer. I journal. God, in His infinite patience, reminded me that writing focuses my thoughts and prayers. Through journaling, I’ve mulled over Scripture, poured out my heart and then listened to Gods’ small still voice. My journals are full of mediations on paper. I’ve long known that journaling is indispensable to the practice my faith. I just didn’t consider it an actual spiritual discipline. I do now.

I guess the lesson is this: the discipline of meditation is not practiced in a pre-defined way. Some may sit and contemplate, others may walk, others may write music, and still others like me will write. In whatever manner we can successfully set aside our own thoughts for God’s we must practice it, keeping in mind our goal:

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing
in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer. (Psalm 19:14, NIV)

Coming in September - the discipline of prayer

What I Take with Me

I apologize for taking an unplanned hiatus from sending postcards. I planned on writing about what I learned about meditation in July as my first step in practicing the spiritual discplines discribed by Richard Foster in the Celebration of Discpline. I was also planning to continue with my discussion on root sin. Between swim lessons, a family vacation, and starting a non-profit; the summer got away from me. Before I knew it, we were fast approaching 'back to school' for my kindergartner and 1st grader. Those topics I will get to I promise, but this one is for my dad.

The weekend before school started; my dad who suffered with Alzhiemer's and Parkinson's contracted pneumonia and my family knew where this would end. The end stages of these diseases deprive their victims of the ability to swallow. Their food is aspirated into their lungs and pneumonia results. My dad passed from this journey into the next on Monday, August 10th.

During the hours preceding his passing, my mind filled with memories. As a very little girl, when we were out in crowds, my dad's hand was too big for my little one, so I would hold onto his index finger and feel so safe. My dad taught me how to ride a bike, a small blue Schwinn. The same bike he would ground me from riding if I came home late for dinner. In 1971, my dad took our family to Disney World - the year it opened. No one was more excited than he. The only thing he loved more than the park itself, was how much I loved it. My dad and I were both graduates of Indiana University and once or twice each fall/winter, we'd make our way to Bloomington for Bear's pizza and a basketball game. We, along with my step-mom, step-sister and brother shared an unfortable trip to New Orleans to watch IU win the 1987 National Championship. With my brother, my dad shared a love of automobile racing and I know my brother now treasures those trips to mid-Ohio, Watkins Glen, Daytona and all of the time spent at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Of course, some memories are painful, but I will lay those to rest with him and only keep the treasured ones.

I will remember him for how much he loved my brother and me. For us, he wanted nothing more than our happiness and finding our place in life. Although a man of few words, I knew how happy he was for me on the day I married. He loved his grandchildren to the point that it changed him on the inside. In fact, he shares a birthday with my son, and I will always treasure that. I will remember how he loved to travel and from him I inherited the same love. He showed me the world...and because of that I became a missionary, of sorts.

At the end, I could tell Daddy goodbye with no regrets, no unfinished business - only love and gratitude. Except my mother, nobody on this earth loved me more than my father.

Goodbye Daddy, I miss you.

Weeds and their Roots

Back in May, I posted some thoughts on clearing land: the physical land so we can plant crops and gardens and the clearing of our souls of root sin. I failed to mention in that post that in general I do not like gardening, or really any type of yard work, except for one thing – believe it or not, I like to weed. I enjoy pulling those suckers up from the dirt. It’s especially satisfying a day or two after a good rain.

In the good old days of my youth, my parents forced me to do yard work, including pulling weeds. One thing my dad thumped into my brain was that I shouldn’t just break the weed off at ground level. I needed to pull their roots as well, or they would just come back again. That thought came back to me after reading the Normal Christian Life and True and False Repentance. It occurred to me that despite my confession and remorse over sin, I simply did not have the willpower to stop myself from sinning again.

My spiritual life was like that of the weeds in my garden. By only dealing with my sinful actions, I removed the offense from the surface, but left the root system intact within the soil of my spirit. I needed to get to the roots to deal with my sin nature once and for all.

You can’t leave weeds alone and hope they’ll go away – they have to be dealt with. Beautiful lawns of luxurious grass will soon be merely patches of crab grass if not dealt with. Farm fields left untended will become over run with weeds, to the point they’re unrecognizable as crop land.

Anyone who’s ever pulled weeds knows it easier after rain softens the soil. So is it true for us spiritually. When the rain of the Holy Spirit showers our soul, the roots of sin are so much easier to deal with. When our hearts are hard from a lack of God’s presence, the roots of sin are much harder to get to. We pull on the weed of sin, but find that it root stays in our spirit and we’re left holding just what was on the surface – our behavior. The obvious defect is gone, but it will surely grow again, just give it a little time.

It is through prayer, the Word of God, and worship that the Holy Spirit soaks the soil of our souls so the weeds that are wrecking our lives can be pulled by their roots and be gone for good.

So, what is normal anyway?

I am an avid reader. There are books that are dear old friends to me. There are books that are mere acquaintances. There are books from which I’ve gleaned wisdom and knowledge and books that have done nothing more than entertain. There are a handful of books, however, that mark milestones in my life; road markers, if you will, on my journey to even get on and stay on the narrow road. These are books that came to me when I was living one way and after I read them I began living another way.

Two of those books are The Normal Christian Life, written by Watchman Nee and originally published in 1957 and the other is True and False Repentance which is a book form of sermons preached by Charles Finney, a minister who played a significant role in the major revival of the mid 1800’s. Some may question the value of The Normal Christian Life, because of the controversial leadership of Watchman Nee and those who followed after him, but in this book I found a key that opened the door to understanding what it means to be freed from the power of my indwelling sin.

Basically, The Normal Christian Life is an exposition of the sixth chapter of the book of Romans. And while there is much to truth to glean from its pages, the pivotal point for me is this: our initial approach to God is always on the basis of Christ’s blood that we are forgiven, but it’s the cross and our reckoning of ourselves as dead with Christ on that cross is what delivers us from the indwelling sin nature rooted in our soul.

You see, I was caught in, it seemed to me, and inescapable roller coaster cycle of poor choices, guilt, shame, (what I thought was repentance, but was instead selfish remorse), and victory for awhile. Then eventually, just as James 1: 14 says, the evil desire within me drug me away and enticed me back into the cycle of ‘self-living’ and I couldn’t seem to keep it from happening. Willpower wasn’t enough. I began to believe that while the Jesus way was the right way, I just wasn’t able live that way.

If The Normal Christian Life opened the door to my understanding of sin, Finney’s True and False Repentance bludgeoned me with the truth about how I much I loved my sin, how much God hated it, and what it meant to be repentant, truly repentant. By reading Finney’s book, I discovered that most of the time I found myself seeking God’s forgiveness because was remorseful over the consequences (consequences meaning guilt and shame) of my actions. In other words, I wanted to be forgiven because I felt guilt and shame, not because I’d sinned against God. My repentance was false because it was selfish.

I am sure this all may sound so negative – the depth and entanglement of indwelling sin, death to self in order to be free, true godly sorrow – not the kind of stuff Christians like to talk about these days. I can’t speak for anyone else but myself, but it was only when I did talk about this stuff to God and godly people leading me through time of discipleship did I become the person God intended for me to be all along. It was only when I could and would see my indwelling sin for what it was, in all of its ugliness, was I horrified enough to finally truly repent and stop the up and down cycle I was living.

Several years later, I was blessed to be a part of establishing a discipleship program at my church. I knew I wanted to share not just the lessons I’d learned, but the transformation that was possible by understanding that there was more to dealing with sin than confession and seeking forgiveness for wrong behavior. I wanted these young Christians to know that we not only have to deal what we’ve done, we have to deal with who we are.


Coming up…The Metaphor I found in my flower garden.

One Way

I’ve discovered, or re-discovered actually, one way of rekindling my passion for living in God’s presence and that will banish my spiritual apathy of Acedia.

A few months ago, a Christian bookstore in my area closed. I stopped in to see what bargains I might find at their inventory reduction sale. I found a copy of Richard Foster’s classic Celebration of Discipline. It is a book I read over twenty years ago as a Christian ‘newbie’. While being challenged by what I read, I was really too spiritually immature to grasp the depth of truth found in the practice of the spiritual disciplines. I read them on my own without engaging in any sort of accountability. It would many years before I even knew that I was supposed to be discipled into the ways of Christ by saints who’ve been travelling the narrow way longer than I. A couple of decades later, after mucking through my sin, failing and overcoming the trials and obstacles that life readily hands us, and now facing new challenges that bring both joy and anxiety, I more fully understand just how much I need to once again cultivate the spiritual disciplines in my life.

Why? Because these practices of meditation, prayer, study, fasting (yikes!), study, simplicity, solitude, submission, service, confession, worship, guidance and celebration challenge my spiritual torpor to a fight to the death. I cannot be the person God wants me to be and do the work God wants me to do, while apathy and sloth live within.

To many, the term ‘spiritual discipline’ sounds so off-putting, tinged with images of monastic life. I can appreciate this, because when I entered life on the’ narrow road’, I did so amongst a group of fellow travelers who strongly encouraged Bible reading, prayer and worship (meaning worship services), but not so much the rest them. At one time or another I’ve dabbled in most of the disciplines and been faithful to a couple, but now is not the time for dabbling. Now, I believe it is time to work at them, not to be a better Christian, but to be more like Him.

I’m inviting all comers to journey with me down the narrow path of spiritual discipline. I hope to focus on one discipline a month and I’m starting with meditation in July. I hope to share what I see, experience, and learn as I focus my spiritual eyes on what God wants me notice along the ‘narrow road.’

Until then, it’s back to our conversations on the roots that grow up in our souls that entangles and besets us.

The Battle is On

Yes, I realize that I left a "to be continued..." just hanging there, and I do have a lot I want to say about what I've learned about the devastating effects of root sin - and I will in coming posts.

For now however, the topic is 'Acedia', a term I'd not heard prior to reading about it in a book entitled, Acedia & Me, recently published by one of my favorite authors, Kathleen Norris. The term acedia is best defined as spiritual sloth, listlessness, and apathy. At its Greek root it means the absence or lack of care; not the "carefree" nature of a light heart, but the apathetic stupor of not caring about what's happening around us. Historically, acedia was considered a condition particular to monastics because the routine of their days varied little over time, and the temptation to boredom strong. However, as time has passed acedia became recognized as an affliction to which we are all were subject.

The ancients described acedia as a bad thought, a sin, a vice and even a demon that attacks the soul. I like the way David of Augsburg, a 13th century German mystic describes acedia, as quoted by Ms. Norris:

"The vice of accidia has three kinds. The first is a bitterness of the mind which cannot be pleased with anything cheerful or wholesome,...The second kind is a certain indolent torpor which loves sleep, and all comforts of the body...[and] flees from whatever is hard, droops in the presence of
work, and takes delight in idleness. ... The third kind is a weariness in such things only as belong to God, while in other occupations its victim is active and in high spirits. (Acedia & Me, page 291)"

I suffer from all three. As I read the pages of Acedia & Me, the light of understanding flickered on, I found the answer to the questions I've been asking myself for some time...What is wrong with me? Why am I so listless? With so much to do, why don't I want to do anything? Is my life that boring? Am I that boring? Why do I waste so much time doing nothing at all? Why do I seem lazy at some things, but not others? Why do put off doing things I love to do whatever it is I find myself doing?

For several years now, I've had a vague notion of my internal struggle with what could best be described as sloth, apathy, or boredom. I am neither a Catholic, nor a monastic, but since becoming a stay-at-home mom, my days vary little from one to the next. Household chores hold no charm for me, and boredom sets in. I love to write, and being home now, I had hope that it might add some interest to my days. Mostly it does, and I have a strong sense of satisfaction over a completed piece. However, there are times while writing that I find myself without the mental energy to finish a thought or even a sentence. Right now, as I try to write this paragraph, the blue sky, green grass and a perfect 75 degree day beckons me to something else, anything else but what I need to do right now...which is finish this post and clean my house for an upcoming Memorial Day cookout.

Why am I going on about this? Two reasons really; first, my struggle is not new nor merely my own - it has afflicted people since words were created to describe it. Secondly, my hope is that in naming my 'demon', I disarm it by calling it out and shaming my weakness.

As with most struggles, it's by admission and repentance we begin our journey to victory. Like the monks, my hope for victory is found within the same life I live and amid my repetition of the same duties and obligations. However, housework becomes a way to pray and worship, writing a ministry as I exercise the gift God's given. The temptation to restlessness is fought as all temptation is fought, by prayer, Scripture and the remembrance that I am crucified with Christ and the old me no longer lives, but Christ lives in me. In what I might call tedium, Christ is working in me acceptance, patience, contentment, and even joy.

Clearing the Land

This Sunday is Mother's Day and where I live it is the day after which we can feel free to plant our flower and vegetable gardens without fear of a late Spring freeze. So next week, the annuals will be planted and my herb garden will be tended to once again.

When my husband and I first moved into your home, there were no flower beds to speak of, just some shrubbery planted by the builder. We had to cut through the sod, turn up the ground, break up the clay, and dig out the rocks. Then came the mixing in of the peat, good quality top soil and manure all in effort to enrich the beds so they would grow beautiful flowers.

Farmers have to endure the same hard work in clearing a new piece of land, they must first rid the field of trees, stumps, and weeds. They have to dig out any boulders that lay above and below the surface. Clearing land, even for a small flower garden is back-breaking work. We break into a sweat and end up with sore muscles, but unless this work is done, the soil is unfit to produce quality crops or flowers. Even after the flowers or seeds are planted, there is always the need to weed, fertilize and water the land in order for the gardens to grow beautiful flowers or quality produce.

The metaphor of our spiritual lives as gardens is not a new one. In the parable of the Sower, Jesus uses this metaphor to illustrate how the condition of our souls dictates how the seed of God's Word will take root.

When we first come to Christ, we come with souls that are overgrown with the weeds of bad decisions, stumbling blocks of boulders that sit beneath the surface of our lives, unhealthy trees and their root systems that spider out into our lives entangling us in a life of sin. Left untouched, the the soil of our soul will remain overgrown, leaving no room for quality seed to grow, bloom, and bear fruit. The Bible promises that those who are in Christ are new creations (2 Cor. 5:17), but it also tells us in Paul's letter to the Philippians, that we are to 'work out our salvation with fear and trembling'.

As a new Christian, I mistakenly believed that by accepting Christ all my struggles with sin would be gone - a thing of the past. The truth is, my soul was just as overgrown as ever. It took a while before I understood just what was necessary to live a life free from the roots of sin that were deeply embedded in my life. As someone who plays a role in discipling new believers, I know that I'm not the only one with inner obstacles stifling a thriving spiritual life. I've witnessed others struggle with sin that has its roots holding tight within in them; unaware of the unhealthy growth that crowds out what God wants to sow in our lives.

Like physically clearing land, digging out our root sins from our souls takes time and effort. Our spiritual bodies get sore from dealing with the issues that have been controlling our lives. But the effort and pain is well worth it. Once free from root sin, we can be free to live the life Christ created us to live; our souls fit to bear fruit for the kingdom.


To be continued....

Show Me

Show me your ways, O Lord, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior,

and my hope is in you all day long."

Psalm 25:4 (NIV)

"I am so sorry sweetheart, but I just don't understand what you are saying; take Mommy's hand and show me." These are the words I often spoke to my daughter when she was just beginning to talk because I couldn't always understand what she was trying to say. I'm certain she could read in my face the complete lack of understanding of what she was trying so hard to convey. The expression on her face, a mixture of disappointment and hurt, made me desperate to figure out what she wanted to communicate. Finally, I grasped her little hand and asked her to 'show me'. Together, we toddled off to see what she was saying and that's where her expression met my comprehension and there was understanding.

Once she caught on, my little girl would often take my hand and she would say to me "show me", mimicking my words and with her face full of expectancy she would pull me toward whatever it was she wanted me see or do for her.

There are times in my life when I face circumstances, crossroads and challenges and I find that God's voice is not clear to me - I struggle with 'not getting' what Scripture is saying to me and I cannot discern God's answers to my prayers. Dreams and visions that I know are from God are beyond my comprehension. Being desperate to understand, I cry out to God; reach out to grasp His hand and ask Him to 'show me'. During these times, I also struggle with feelings of failure. I imagine the expression on God's face to be the same as my daughter's when I couldn't comprehend her words. I believe God to be disappointed and hurt that His message is not registering with me. As a mom, I felt guilty because I believed I should be able to understand my daughter, and as a Christian, I feel guilty because I believe that I should always be able to understand what God is saying to me.

It's during these times, I'm grateful for Scriptures I do understand, like 1 Corinthians 13:12 that continues to remind me that "we don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in the fog, peering through a mist (Msg)." On this side of heaven, we will not have complete understanding. God is not disappointed in my lack of perception as long as I have heart that listens and is open to Him. I have his love and His love never fails. He will patiently persevere with me until I grasp His hand and ask Him to once again 'show me.'

Then amazingly enough, before long either through prayer, a sermon, or even circumstances there comes that 'aha' moment when my comprehension meets God's expression and there is understanding.

Join the Journey

I love to travel. I love to plan my trips, I love to pack for my trips, and I love to go. I don't really care where. I'm happy with a long-weekend, a romantic getaway with my husband, the family vacation, and long trips abroad. I want to see the world - all of it. I love car trips, even long ones and while 9/11 has taken the fun out of air travel, I'm willing to shuffle through security with my 3oz of shampoo so I can see what's out there and meet people who aren't like me.

I love to sit on a beach or by a pool with a good book, but I also love to spend days taking in the sights, sounds and smells of someplace new. I enjoy theme parks, water parks and National parks. Cities, mountains and coastline are all wonderful. I just need the time and money, and I'll go.

Truth be told though, there are more enjoyable ways of travelling than others. Throughout the years, I've spent many an hour staring out a car window travelling on our nations highly efficient, but mostly monotonous interstate system with so much of the scenery hidden by tree lines to block the sound and never ending billboards. These roads were built along routes chosen because they were the path of least resistance. So much beauty and interest lost to expediency.

The ribbons of interstate are easy to negotiate - easy access with predictable food and lodging. You can find the same restaurant on an exit in Pennsylvania as on an exit in New Mexico; the motel room you slept in last night will look pretty much the same as the room you will sleep in tonight.

The back roads are more surprising, you just don't know what you'll find, but you have a much better chance of finding the scenic views, unexpected sights and experiences that make the journey as much of the trip as the destination. Yes, it's slower. You may find yourself stuck behind grandma and grandpa out for a drive or the farmer slowly pulling a wagon of hay to feed his stock. Yes, it's less convenient. It may take you longer to find somewhere to stay. There may not be a gas station every five miles. Yes, it's not so predictable. You may find the hotel room not so modern as you'd like it. You may find a waitress who is a bit odd or old-fashioned in a diner that's been around forever. However, and oh by goodness the however's ... in that diner, you may find discover the best chicken-fried steak in five states, you may happen to come across a farmer's market with peaches fresh from the tree. You may just wonder upon a view that will take your breath away.

I say all that to say this...I am a person of faith, the Christian faith. I came to know Jesus over twenty-five years ago, but failed to surrender to him completely until several years later when, by His grace I finally came to the end of myself. In other words, I finally left my way for His way. In the gospel of Matthew, Jesus tells us, in what we know as the Sermon on the Mount, that "broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But...narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it."

I have spent significant time on both roads and I much prefer the narrow road, not just because it leads to eternal life (which is reason enough to stay on it), but also because the journey itself is so much better. The broad road allow for 'personal space' so you can 'do your own thing' on routes that you hope are through paths of least resistance. The narrow road, however, forces us to travel compactly with fellow journeymen and women as we together negotiate obstacles, carry each others' burdens and travel side-by-side among people who may simultaneously annoy and challenge us. And while, we move along the narrow road that all too often goes through the path of most resistance, we also share in the beauty, joy and peace that is provided along the way. The signs along the narrow road don't advertise the worlds wares as they do on the broad road, but they point us to the knowledge that Jesus is the 'way, the truth and the life'.

I invite you to travel along with me as I share about what I've learned along the narrow road. I have souvenirs that I've picked up that serve as reminders of God's faithfulness. I can show you my scars were I've tripped and fallen, but now help me appreciate God's healing in my life. I have no idea where the narrow road leads next, but I'll send you a postcard when I get there.