Photo: St. Marys River
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Tag: peace
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.
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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.
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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.)
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Bashless
I hope to keep this blog a bash-free zone, not that it comes easily to me. Change will require effort. I have been known to wield an acid pen and in the past have taken far too much delight in humour that comes at the expense of another’s dignity. Sorry ‘bout that.
I just read this: Now if you feel inclined to set yourself up as a judge of those who sin, let me assure you, whoever you are, that you are in no position to do so. For at whatever point you condemn others you automatically condemn yourself, since you, the judge, commit the same sins. God’s judgment, we know, is utterly impartial in its action against such evil-doers. What makes you think that you who so readily judge the sins of others, can consider yourself beyond the judgment of God? Are you, perhaps, misinterpreting God’s generosity and patient mercy towards you as weakness on his part? Don’t you realise that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance? (Romans 2 Phillips translation.)
I do believe we all harbour bash-worthy thoughts and practices in our lives. I also think that most of us are perfectly aware of them. We can make excuses and try to camouflage them from ourselves for a while, but when the spirit of stupid takes up residence in our lives it produces a mound of garbage no amount of room deodorizer can disguise.
There is a difference between offering critique and being critical (“helpful” or otherwise). One is requested and delivered in private with respect by a person who has proven themselves to be trustworthy; the other slops all over the place. Proper loving critique improves, encourages and builds one up. Judgmental criticism is published on Facebook and blogs, broadcast in the media, gossiped at coffee shops, preached from the pulpit and whined at the breakfast table. Condemning judgment (as opposed to wise discernment or encouraging assessment) effectively hits every target but the intended one. (We all know “open letters” are read by everyone except the person to whom they are addressed.) Frequently the purpose of such judgment is to dismiss or even eliminate perceived competition.
Strangely the very issues that trigger our pontifications are often the same besetting temptations we shove back in the closet. You know it is the kid who inherited your own character flaws who most drives you up the wall. When we attempt to parent the whole world those same weaknesses fuel our urge to flame. When momma taught us the dangers of playing with word matches, the fascination with that power didn’t disappear for many of us; we just blow-torched the personal refuse bin of someone at a distance instead.
The problem is that fire spreads.
Chapter three of James says: The human tongue is physically small, but what tremendous effects it can boast of! A whole forest can be set ablaze by a tiny spark of fire, and the tongue is as dangerous as any fire, with vast potentialities for evil. It can poison the whole body, it can make the whole of life a blazing hell.
Yes, but what if somebody on the internet is wrong?
Have they asked to be set right? Are you in authority over them? Then they’re probably not listening anyway.
It was God’s kindness that drew me to him. Years of striving and putting in my best efforts and failing to follow even my own moral code led to discouragement. His loving kindness led to encouragement. He poured into me the courage to go on when all I wanted to do was quit. He knows the plans he has for me.
I like the lyrics from Stuart Townend’s song:
Come all you vagabonds,
Come all you ‘don’t belongs’
Winners and losers,
Come, people like me.
Come all you travelers
Tired from the journey,
Come wait a while, stay a while,
Welcome you’ll be.
Come all you questioners,
Looking for answers
And searching for reasons
And sense in it all;
Come all you fallen,
And come all you broken,
Find strength for your body
And food for your soul.
Come those who worry
‘Bout houses and money,
And all those who don’t have
A care in the world;
From every station
And orientation,
The helpless, the hopeless,
The young and the old.
Come all believers
And dreamers and schemers,
And come all you restless
Just searching for home;
Movers and shakers
And givers and takers,
The happy, the sad
And the lost and alone.
Come self-sufficient
With wearied ambition,
And come those who feel
At the end of the road.
Fiery debaters
And religion haters,
Accusers, abusers,
The hurt and ignored.
Come to the feast,
There is room at the table.
Come let us meet in this place
With the King of all kindness
Who welcomes us in
With the wonder of love,
And the power of grace.
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The wonder of love and the power of grace
I will both lie down in peace, and sleep; For You alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety. Psalm 4:8
For so many years my sleep was erased by “what-ifs.” The opposite of love is not hate; it is fear. Hate is simply one of fear’s many manifestations.
I was so afraid that pursuing God would be another disappointment. I was afraid that I would get to the finish line and he would inform me I was disqualified on a technicality because I had missed meeting some requirement no one told me about, or done something out of order, or didn’t try hard enough -or tried too hard.
I once had a music student who failed a Royal Conservatory exam because I made a mistake. I misread a page number and taught her a song that was on the approved list for the next higher grade level. Did she sing poorly? Not that song. She sang it beautifully; she actually did more than required -and that was the problem. Being informed that she had done something wrong threw her concentration and she did not do well in the sight singing and ear trainng requirements she needed to perform later. Even when I explained to the powers that it was not the girl’s fault, but mine, my pleas were met by the recitation of rule book and the necessity of the penalty of docking a large percentage of her mark. I felt absolutely horrible.
I assured her that she did not fail. The goal was to sing, to develop her talent and enjoy music; she had done that. She nodded, but she still felt rejected. I could see she was crushed in spirit. She quit singing shortly after that.
In a way, this was like my experience with churchianity. Even when I exceeded what was expected, I felt like I missed the approval mark. I was accused of “showing off” or “not being submissive.” I was judged by a book of man-made rules and found wanting –but I was the one who chose to be a human approval junkie, essentially turning “church” into an idol, something to be appeased, something it was never intended to be.
I felt rejected, crushed, and after a while just gave up. I feared I would never be good enough. Fear morphed into anger, and anger congealed into bitterness as hard as concrete. The same walls that served as a defense against pain also trapped offense inside and kept out joy.
After many years of long, dark, sleepless nights I heard the voice of the One who knew what it felt like to be rejected and condemned by the religious establishment. He sang me a love song and said, “If your fear of me keeps you away, you have no idea of who I am or what love is.”
He threw pebbles at my window and called me to come away with Him.
I did.
He wooed me on long walks in the woods, on mountain tops and valleys, in snow storms and desert heat. He spoke kindly and patiently as to a wounded child and invited me to let him pull the stronghold walls down.
He didn’t give me a definition of grace; he gave me a demonstration.
There is no fear in His love. He loves patiently, gently, relentlessly, unselfishly, kindly, perfectly –and perfect love casts out fear.
I hear the music again. My heart sings.
Charis: Subject to Change 