Turn

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I took a wrong turn.

I’m helping my elderly mother-in-law. Her apartment is in the centre of the downtown core of  large city. I am not used to this kind of traffic or the visual and auditory distractions everywhere. Sirens, flashing lights, construction barriers, drivers honking at me. It takes a while to build up selective inattention; my senses feel assaulted. And I always seem to be in the wrong lane! I just slipped out on a quick errand and by the time I was halfway home my nerves were shot.

Well, I was in the wrong lane again and ended up in a parking lot in the river valley. Instead of aiming my poor little car back into the fray I got out and went for a walk (a stomp would be more accurate). I came upon a green space and followed the asphalt trail, jumping out of my skin every time a cyclist whizzed by me and blushing every time I happened upon couples who really needed to get a room. I saw a deserted-looking path going up a narrow gorge. I know, probably not a good idea for a woman alone in the big city but I craved solitude and missed the woods back home. So I followed it.

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Ahh. There, right in the midst of rush and shove of angry people (including me) an unpopulated refuge. A gift. The song in my head was about God being a strength and shield. “You give grace and glory. No good thing will he withhold from those who walk with him.”

Thanks, Lord. I needed that.

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I’m still learning to maintain that peace while looking for an address in heavy traffic. My husband will tell you I’m not there yet, but at least I know peace can exist in the middle of a stressful place.

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I had my quiet time in the woods yesterday. And there were no bears.

Choosing Gratitude

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“Gratitude as a discipline involves a conscious choice. I can choose to be grateful even when my emotions and feelings are still steeped in hurt and resentment. It is amazing how many occasions present themselves in which I can choose gratitude instead of a complaint. I can choose to be grateful when I am criticized, even when my heart still responds in bitterness. I can choose to speak about goodness and beauty, even when my inner eye still looks for someone to accuse or something to call ugly.”
-Henri Nouwen

Teach Us to Number Our Days.

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I’m in Edmonton, Alberta this week. Autumn has begun here. Coloured leaves fall like rain when the wind shakes the elm trees arching over the streets of the older districts. This morning thick green hostas and a few remaining flowering perennials lined the flower beds outside my mother-in-law’s apartment building. This evening they are gone. This afternoon volunteers pulled up and chopped back the greenery, then toted away bags of vegetative debris for composting as they prepared the beds for winter.

I was shocked. They were still green and blooming. I guess the calendar says summer is over so the volunteer gardeners went to work while they had time. Somebody has to do it.

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I think seeing the bare beds reminded me of my own pain this week. It is becoming increasingly clear my husband’s elderly mother is moving into a new season. It’s a bit of a shock. We knew it was coming, but still… She doesn’t recognize – or remember – the ominous signs of declining health that make it unsafe for her to continue to live independently.

She is not happy with her sons and daughters-in-law or grandchildren right now. We don’t want to deprive her of freedom. There are still areas of her life that are green and thriving, but at 91 she has suffered noticeably from the shock of her second son’s death a few weeks ago. We know it is time for her to downsize so we can provide more care for her.

Because she lives in a different city than her surviving sons there is no ideal arrangement that will not involve more loss, especially of possessions that carry so much meaning for her. Frankly, we don’t really know what to do. We need wisdom.  It’s a sad season and I hate the role I now find myself in. Pushy is not a characteristic I admire or ever wanted to acquire, but somebody has to do it. Sometimes love is costly.

The hardest part for me, after seeing my mother, then my father, and now my mother-in-law lose parts of themselves to failing memory, is to confront my own mortality. I’ve noticed that it is very difficult to change in old age. For those who have survived the trauma of war and famine and death of loved ones in youth, but who never completely escaped the tyranny of fear, old age can be utterly terrifying. Frightened people can hurt the very ones who are trying to help them as they return to child-like vulnerability. This is a time of testing for all of us.

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My prayer this week is that I will end my days with a healed and whole heart, trusting in the love of my heavenly father who has promised to never leave or forsake me. I pray that he will teach me to number my days, that I may gain a heart of wisdom before my final season in this body. I pray that I may burn with the colours of love right until the end and that I would be willing to change now in order to get there.

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It’s a big request.

The Next Season

IMG_5547Be of good courage,
And He shall strengthen your heart,
All you who hope in the Lord.
(Psalm 31:24)

Sometimes strength comes only after taking the first courageous step, not before. It is hope in the Lord that allows us to take one more step when we are not sure of what the next season will bring. Hope is about seeing the big picture – by faith.

Hope: vision-led endurance.

Step Home

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“In the rush and noise of life, as you have intervals, step home within yourselves and be still. Wait upon God, and feel His good presence; this will carry you evenly through your day’s business.”
– William Penn

This has been a week of rush and noise. Literally and figuratively.

Actually, it’s been flat out crazy. At times the stuff happening around us has been so over the top all I can do is laugh and say, “God? It’s yours. There is no way I can keep up to this. I know you have a plan and you can use anything as raw material so here you go. Take this noise in my heart and this worrisome rushing about because you paid for it. It’s not doing me any good. If you would replace it with your peace I would be ever so grateful.”

After a night of very little sleep I got up well before dawn to pray. I was ready to go into “war mode” when I felt him say, “Be still.” I waited. “In an atmosphere of quietness and confidence you will find your trust.”

In spite of the urgency of the situation this time I sat still and refrained from giving God advice as I waited for his presence.

I realized that IS war mode. Positioning ourselves in peace and confidence in the One who is faithful is like sitting on a huge rock beside a rushing river. The water changes course. The rock does not.

Later that day I received news that He answered in a way that was better than I imagined.

We face another situation this week to which I can see no solution that will be satisfying to everybody involved. This post is another sermon-to-self. I am reminding myself to step home within myself to find the One who promised to never leave. I am learning to wait and be still. It doesn’t come naturally, but He’s working on changing me.

His good presence will carry us through.

People of the Flame

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Someone asked me recently why I don’t take a stronger stand against evil. “All that’s needed for evil to prevail is for good people to do nothing,” they said. “If you keep talking about grace without warning about compromise with sin you can be held responsible for the consequences.”

Lately I’ve been hearing from a lot of folks who are sure we are about to be judged for the sins of our countries. “We’ve gone too far,” they say.

We do reap what we sow. If our pleasure or comfort comes at the expense of someone else (or even our future selves) eventually somebody’s going to get hurt. I watched the escalation of the squirt gun wars amongst my grandchildren this summer. If you squirt someone with water they have the right to shoot you back. You have set a precedent. How long do you think the fun lasted until there were tears and Grandma had to confiscate the toys? I can tell you the scenario was repeated often enough to establish the character of human nature. (Bless their hearts.)

The escalation of conflict in the world goes way beyond squirting each other with cold water. It’s a dark, ugly, scary place sometimes where even a child in his momma’s womb is not safe.

Sometimes I get the feeling some people think our countries are working on some sort of group project that is about to be judged by God’s big red pencil. The “achievers” are really ticked off with the “slackers.” The ones who feel responsible for doing everything right are running around yelling, “Now we’re all gonna fail! Aaaargh!” What if the test is not about a good mark on a paper about blood moons and calendars and court rulings and not being passively complicit in giving approval to sin? What if the assignment is all about learning to love?

I had to ask the Lord, “Am I a slacker? Have I compromised on speaking out about the consequence of defying Your orders for the way things are meant to be done in Your creation?

As I prayed I was reminded of a vision I had a few years ago. A picture flashed in my mind’s eye. A runner on a dark road in the night carrying a torch like we saw during the winter Olympics in Canada. It was a like a detailed short video and lasted only a moment, but it looked very real.

“Was that from you, Lord?” I asked.

“I miss the people of the flame.” I recognized His voice.

“What people? What flame? What happened?”

“It was buried under the bridge of compromise,” He said.

That was it. That’s all I heard. I pondered this event for some time wondering who the people were and what the flame represented. I couldn’t understand. Was this about having more fervency, more zeal? But I know plenty of amazing people striving to make the world a better place so who are these flame carriers you are missing? It didn’t make sense to me so I left it on the shelf for a while.

This week, as the memory of the vision came up again in the context of taking a public stand against sinful practices, I continued to talk to the Lord about it. I remembered a verse I learned as a child, “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.” (Psalm 119:105)

Pointing to the darkness and saying “This ought not to be!” is like being the kind of doctor who can diagnose a complicated case, and may be able to treat some symptoms, but offers no cure. It’s like a physician who says “Those spots indicate a serious disease process. If you didn’t have those spots you wouldn’t be sick!” We walk away thinking about how to get rid of the spots instead of how to treat the root cause.

I wonder if a type of disappointment has been growing in our communities. Like yeast that fills a lump of dough I’ve noticed a pervasive cynicism has crept in. I see so many who have experienced disappointment in the ability of hard work, religious observance, law-abiding life-styles or the false charm of political promises to make lasting deep heart-change. I wonder if disappointment is an indication that we have replaced God’s priorities with our own. We are still working hard but it’s not going the way we envisioned. We have been striving to remove the spots in ourselves and in others in the hope it will lead to a healing of the heart. But the more we try the worse the spots get.

I wonder if the flame in the vision is about true hope. Perhaps the lamp, “the Word,” does not refer to more Biblical injunctions to quit sinning. The Bible tells us that the Word is Jesus Christ Himself.

Today I asked the Lord again if I have been in error by not standing up against sin more publicly. Have I been lazy, avoiding conflict, compromising? His answer to my heart: The people of the flame carried the light. They carried hope, they carried good news. They ran into the darkness, unafraid, because they carried the flame.

After Jesus died the people who had expectations that he would deliver them from the oppressors felt profound disappointment. “But we had hoped that he was the one…” said the two followers as they walked dejectedly to Emmaus, not recognizing the person who joined them was the resurrected Jesus. They did not understand that God had much bigger plans than improving their living conditions. These were the same people who, after the Holy Spirit came with wind and tongues of flame at Pentecost, abounded in hope in the worst possible circumstances, under severe persecution. They were not concerned with “preserving their way of life.” They did not point to encroaching darkness and announce God’s judgment on a place, nor did they sit down awaiting rescue from the planet. They did not deny the darkness. They picked up their torches and ran right into the darkness. The message they carried changed the world.

They carried hope. They carried the light. The light of the world is Jesus Christ.

We each face challenges of Olympic proportion. Will circumstances become more difficult in the future? I don’t know. All I know is that in my own small way, right where I am in this little corner of the world I can run into the darkness carrying the light.

I pray that God, the source of all hope, will infuse your lives with an abundance of joy and peace in the midst of your faith so that your hope will overflow through the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13)

Hope Full

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To live without hope is to cease to live.  – Fyodor Dostoevsky

The thief approaches with malicious intent, looking to steal, slaughter, and destroy; I came to give life with joy and abundance. –  Jesus Christ

If you are listening to a voice that says it is too late, that you are under judgment, there is no hope, you are listening to the wrong voice.

Jesus came to give life with joy and abundance -not mere happiness and more stuff.

Life.