Greening

Photo: Elk Valley

The pastures of the wilderness overflow,

the hills gird themselves with joy,

the valleys deck themselves with grain,

they shout and sing together for joy.

Psalm 65

Sometimes the best way through the valley is through the valley. That’s where the feast is kept.

Outflow

Photo: Marysville Falls

I pray that according to the riches of His glory he may grant you to be strengthened in your inner being so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith -that you being rooted and grounded in love, may have the stength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Eph 3:16-19

An organized person having a disorganized experience

Photo: log rail fence in the Kootenays

“I’m never going to be organized.”

Lie.

Well, I asked the Lord to show me the lies I have believed and the first one cropped up whilst going through a file of my recent photos which included this one. (Huh. So that’s where I filed it.) I can give you a lot of historic evidence upon which I have based this lie, most of it embarrassing, but the truth is that by assuming this statement to be correct I have placed a fence around my future, based, not on faith, but on disappointment with the past.

A friend challenged me to examine my words this past weekend. Profound in a simple way -the really profound stuff usually is.

Can you imagine a child telling herself, “Tried walking. Didn’t like it. Fell down -more than once. I obviously do not have the gift of walking. I’ll just have to bum scoot my way through life. Someone else will have to do the walking. My gift is laughing hysterically when somebody blurbles my belly. I know how to bring cheer to the YouTube masses with my charming blurble-induced guffaws. I’ll just stick with that?”

Just an example. Blurble my belly and you’re a dead… I mean you will not be blessed – at least not by me – although I have been known to laugh hysterically with the kind of snorting laugh that is funnier than the original joke. I’m not a delicate giggler. Decorum is not us.

Oh dear. Is that a lie too? This brings other lies to mind. I’m not a runner or a dancer or a carpenter. I have no entrepreneurial skills. I am just your average starving artist (metaphorically speaking -in real life- -huge effort at being positive now- I’m a yet-to-be-discovered, pleasingly plump, deliciously dimpled lateral thinker).

Note to self: The thing is that when a you are convinced you are not a runner, or capable of earning more than survival wages you tend to stop trying. In fact you will go so far as to sabotage any budding talent in that direction. You’re building limits on your God-given potential like thick log fences around your future.

Renewing the mind. OK. I am not a disorganized person. I am an organized person having a disorganized experience. Write that down and stick it on the fridge, Charis.

Now where did I put my pen?

He Restores My Soul

For my friend,

I believe it was the writings of Henri Nouwen that first made me think about the blessings Jesus talked about (also known as The Beatitudes) as the stages of healing from old wounds and the process of forgiveness. This how I have experienced this part of the journey.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

We come to a point where we realize we do not have what we need to fix our lives by ourselves. We definitely do not have it all together. This is good! It feels awful, but it is a vital step in accessing the kingdom of God. We enter humbly and not with a sense of entitlement. It feels like loss. It feels like that moment when you think you’ve reached the bottom of the stairs, but your foot continues to fall. Old temporary foundations fail and we feel like there is no place left to stand.

That’s what it’s supposed to feel like. Call out to God, “Help!”

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

We admit our faults and are willing to examine the lies we have accepted. By acknowledging that we have created false idols and ineffectual coping mechanisms, by feeling remorse for the hurt we have caused ourselves and others, and by grieving for the resulting losses we receive comfort.

Tell God exactly how you feel, even if you are angry with him. He knows anyway.

Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

I like this definition of meek: teachable. Meekness means, “I know I don’t have the answers but I am capable of learning, Lord. Teach me.” We sit at the feet of Jesus Christ and listen. When we listen, really listen, we gain an understanding of how God can use anything to work together for our good.

Open your heart to receive your inheritance.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

At this stage we develop a greater hunger for God and long to be in good relationship with him. (note: this is not the first stage. The desire for God increases as we give up our own methods of coping, get honest, and listen. Don’t worry. It will come.) Then, when we let go of the stupid stuff we are hanging onto, which we thought would ease our pain and give us a sense of purpose and significance, like the helper on the Hoarders TV show he asks our permission to come in and haul the junk away. In its place he leaves more satisfying things, like love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, meekness, and self-control. He equips us with gifts (tools) to fulfil our destiny.

Throw out the rotten junk food and empty cans. Feast on the righteousness Jesus provides..

Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.

At this stage we can look up and see the struggles of others. We can see we are not alone and can dare to be empathetic, compassionate and reach out to help others without being pulled under again ourselves -because we are giving out of the abundance the Holy Spirit’s provision for us and within us, and not out of duty or a need to “be a something.” We are aware of his love. We can finally feel it. We can start to be ourselves and give more freely of ourselves.

Let his love flow through you.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Innocence can’t be restored, but purity can. Without purity, spiritually sensitive people will be overly consumed by the presence of evil, but with restored purity we can see, like Elisha’s servant, that the forces for God are much greater. We have no reason to live in fear. Impurity, in its many forms, leads to bitterness and complaining which result in anxiety and fear.  Purity leads to assurance and confident courage as we can now have our eyes opened to the nature and ways of God.

Be willing to see beyond expectations of disappointment.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

We start to relate differently. We are not as impatient or prone to make judgments on people. We desire restored relationships and renewed bridges.

Give the peace you have been given.

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Forgiveness is not the same as reconciliation. A fully restored relationship requires honesty on both sides. The Bible tells us “As much as is possible be at peace with all men.” We humbly, but confidently do what we can, but the results are not always what we would like. We’re blessed, at peace and learning to comprehend more who we are in Christ. Less and less do we need to buy into into the world’s coping mechanisms, or the excuses of those whose theology is strongly influenced by disappointment. Possessing the peace that passes understanding sometimes means relinquishing the right to understand.

Take the risk of countering attack with goodness.

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

It’s surprising how some people react when you tell them God healed you or worked miraculously to change your heart. Some will say, “You’ve changed. Change back.” Some are happy for you, but others say, “Prove it.” Some will be offended. Jealousy is not satisfied until a reputation has been destroyed.

Who knew? Well God did, so he warns you. And he says you’re in good company, so rejoice. Spending time getting to know God, learning to hear him speak in many different ways, and having a restored relationship with him is ever so much more fun than depression, anxiety and living a lie. God is good. Very, very good.

We have the privilege of repeating this process many times in life. I say privilege because each step comes with a new blessing. Sometimes it feels like we are going in circles, but we are actually going in spirals, going deeper each time. Sometimes we feel like we spend an inordinate amount of time on one step, but he is faithful and doesn’t give up on us. He understands our pain and sends the Holy Spirit to come along side on the journey.

May the Lord bless you and keep you, my friend. May he make his face shine upon you, be gracious to you and give you peace.

Save

Mourning into dancing

Woot! Woot!

*Now get outta my way, let me praise my Jesus! Get outta my way! If I don’t praise him the rocks are gonna cry out, “Glory and Honour! Glory and Honour! I ain’t got time to die.*

–American Spiritual

Where were you?

Mourning

I cry, Oh God! Oh Christ! Oh Jesus!

Where are you when the ones who say
they speak for you –those who squeeze us,
press in on every side, demand
that we respect authority,
obey their rules, come (cash in hand)
to hear their words, as only they
have got the regulations straight at last?
Where are you when the weak are hurt,
aggrieved and stumbled in your name?

Don’t you see what they have passed?

I sit entangled with the chords
of bitterness around my feet.
A plant blows over on the boards
that fence me off from outside world.
The petals scatter on the grass
and now the gust of wind that swirled
their frail wings in electric air
becomes a greater blast of rage
that showers ashes in my hair.

Flash tears the sky –breath rent apart,
and splits the veil of one who mourns,
with lightning striking to the heart.
Deep groaning rolls across the vale
from craggy peak to worn down ridge
and rains pours down –beats down in hail.

The sun withdraws beneath a cloud.
and saplings hang their weeping heads
as thunder rails against the proud,
who dare to claim the earth their own,
–and in the woods from hill to hill
creation echoes back the moan.

My tears obscure the sky from view.
Oh God! I cry. God! Where are you?

My child, I hear.  I weep with you.

(written during the struggle)

Letting Go

And Forgive Us our Debts

Nothing left to give.

Look into my empty sack,

my empty jar.

See my cold black torch.

How am I to live?

I cannot pay back what I owe

‘til I get payback for my lack.

And they took it.

They squandered it.

They spent my joy on riots.

They spent my innocence on games.

They threw my peace on the bonfire

and danced around it.

Let go

I’ve squeezed my eyes until they bled,

I’ve held my breath

until my heart pounded on death’s door —

still I cannot disappear

into the disheveled dirt bed

And here you are

–and you want more.

How dare you?

How dare you, God?

How dare you?

How dare you shove

your saber hand into my chest

and divide spent spirit from sullied soul

to reach the hissing python.

Let go

I can’t let go!

It’s only anger —

it’s only hate

that coiled around my crooked spine

enables me to stand up straight

and curse them!

Let go

Aren’t you gentle Jesus

meek and mild?

Go take your love to some purer child.

And stop that!

You’re hurting me!

Let go

They poached my song!

They caught my rhyme!

They raped my soul!

They took my time!

They grabbed my mind

and jammed it on a fearsome pike –as a warning.

They took my gates forever.

I’ve damned the light

and sealed the sash

with dark green plastic meant for trash.

What good are thickened walls of stone

when the door’s been burned to ash.

Let go

The bill’s right here;

I have kept track.

My hands will tighten ‘round their necks.

My hands are strong —

they’ll not be slack

‘til I get everything I lack.

Give it back!

Give it back!

Give it back!

Let go

You let go!

I’m offended by this “loving hand”

that feels more like a gunshot wound.

Let go

I can’t let go!

I won’t let go!

I don’t want to let go!

They owe me!

Let go

Help me.

Let go

You know if I let go it will kill me.

I know

It’s hard.

I can’t fill your hands until you empty them.

Who is going to help me?

I am.

(This poem was written about one of the toughest steps in healing from chronic depression  –forgiveness. To me forgiveness is about letting go of legitimate debts owed me and allowing God to supply my needs.)

Wild little prophets

I saw these guys on my walk in the woods yesterday.

Crocus flowers, or pasque flowers as they are sometimes called, fascinate me. As forerunners they are the first to demonstrate the change in season by the prophetic act of blooming before any of the other wild flowers in the Rockies.

I read this recently: Hope is hearing the music of the future; faith is being able to dance to it today.

The crocus reveals, as it folds back its furry purple robes, a heart of gold. It’s mere presence between patches of dust-weary snow in the mountain meadows sings to me songs of stepping into destiny by faith.

Come out of your caves! Don’t let your past define who you are today!

Open to the light! Let it dispel all the dark fear that keeps you from letting anyone see your heart! You are beautiful!

Wakey! Wakey! Even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed in as fine apparel as the Lord has already given you who love him. He has equipped you with every good gift you need for this season.

Are you listening? Can you feel it?

Ready…

Set…

NOW!