I love the Book of Acts.
A major theme of its opening chapters is the conversion of the former enemies of the Saints to "the Way." (The term "Christianity" didn't come along until quite a bit later!) Acts is a story of hatred and fear overcome not through war but by the power of the Spirit.
It starts in chapter two when Peter confronts some of those responsible for the murder of his Lord. They are "pricked in their hearts" and ask, "What shall we do?" Peter invites them to be baptized and to join him and the other Saints. And then he welcomes them into the church.
Everyone knows the story of Saul of Tarsus, who consented to the murder of Stephen and who hunted down the Saints in Jerusalem and Damascus, "breathing out destruction" against them. When I arrive in the eternal realm, I want to look up Barnabus and have a chat with him. The Saints were scared to death of that man Saul. None of them wanted anything to do with him, and with reason. The scriptures say, "But Barnabus took him, and brought him to the apostles, and declared unto them how he had seen the Lord in the way." That took guts!
When peace comes to us in our day -- wherever we lack peace and yearn for it -- it will come about not through victory in war, but through conversion, through reconciliation, through the vanquishing not of enemies but of enmity itself. That is "the Way" that Christ taught.
That requires true faith. You have to believe in and love yourself before you can hope that others will believe in and love you. You have to believe in the possibility of peace. You might have to walk in the line of fire, in the No Man's Land between warring sides, like Barnabus did.
Showing posts with label Prayer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prayer. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 23, 2018
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
God's Timetable, Our Need
I've been studying the Gospel of John for the last week or so. This morning, I was pondering on the miracle of changing water into wine at the wedding feast in Cana, described in John chapter 2.
Parenthetically, it's clear to me here that the wine in question was alcoholic. I don't know how else to read the response of the "ruler of the feast" to Jesus' miracle in verse 10. It's clear to me from this and other New Testament texts that not only did Jesus not disapprove of wine-drinking, but that he partook himself. See, for instance, Luke 7:34/Matthew 11:19. I live the Word of Wisdom, and I believe it is divinely inspired, though I see it as a sign of obedience/devotion that is asked of the Saints in this dispensation, not necessarily in others. This is an important clarification; a reminder that what is most important is that we be attentive to what God is asking us to do now, in this time and place, not necessarily what he has required of Saints in other times and places living in other dispensations.
But this was not what interested me most in this chapter. In verse three, when Jesus' mother drops a rather broad hint that Jesus should use his miracle-working power to help provide wine for the wedding, Jesus' response is rather brusk: "Woman, what have I to do with thee? mine hour is not yet come." Some of the translation notes I've studied suggest that the original Greek is at least as harsh-sounding as this comes across in English. Imagine addressing your own mother as "woman," and responding to her request for help by saying "What do I have to do with you?" One translation note I looked at pointed out that this is the same question the demons address to Jesus in Mark 1:24 and Luke 4:34. Harsh.
The harshness of Jesus' response to his mother reminds me somewhat of the harshness of Jesus' response to Peter in Matthew 16, after Jesus had revealed his impending death in Jerusalem, and Peter had protested, "Far be it from thee, Lord: this shall not be unto thee" (Matt. 16:22). Here, in John, I think the key to the harshness of Jesus' response to his own mother is in the phrase, "Mine hour is not yet come." Here, as in Jesus' response to Peter, it was a question of Jesus' devotion to the calling he had received from God. Human beings should not, it seems, try to interfere with or "manage" that calling in any way. As Jesus understood it, that particular time and place -- the wedding feast at Cana -- was not his time yet. And he let his mother know in no uncertain terms.
Yet -- and in this, I can totally imagine Mary as a mom -- Mary is not phased in the least by the harshness of Jesus' response. She simply proceeds to instruct the servants at the wedding to do whatever Jesus asked them to do -- implying that he's going to go ahead and perform the miracle requested anyway. And Jesus, in fact, obliges her, in spectacular fashion, as attested in verse 10.
So the puzzle in what ensues is: Why, if his hour had not yet come, did he go ahead and perform the miracle? It's not that Jesus can't say no to his mother. He apparently does, for instance, in Mark 3:31-35 / Luke 8:19-21 / Matthew 12:46-50.
But this account's summary of the miracle (in verse 11) was that "this beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and manifested forth his glory; and his disciples believed on him." So the miracle in fact served a divine purpose. It became essentially, Jesus' "coming out," the beginning of works and teachings through which he would manifest his mission.
So even though this was not "his hour," at least not the one that he would have chosen, at Mary's insistence, he made it his hour. In other words, God's timetable was in fact rearranged to meet human requests/needs.
This tells us something important, I think, about the theology behind prayer. It seems to me that in fact there are blessings that God withholds from us, until we are willing to ask for them. Cross reference this story with the parable of the unjust judge in Luke 18:1-8, or with Revelation 8:1-4. If we are suffering an injustice, God does not expect us to fatalistically accept injustice. He invites us to plead, to pray with all the energy of our souls, for injustice to end. And if we exercise faith, and turn to him in faith, divinely ordained timetables of history can be changed. God will reward our faith, hope and persistence.
*****
I just learned that the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals has ruled that California's Proposition 8 is a violation of the U.S. Constitution. I have long believed that the patchwork of DOMA laws and state constitutional amendments denying marriage to same-sex couples were unconstitutional. This ruling affirms that. Though, obviously, now this is going to have to be settled by the highest court in the land. And who knows how that will go?
I have been getting more and more involved in the statewide campaign here in Minnesota to stop our state constitution from being amended to ban marriage for same-sex couples. Last night, spent two hours calling Minnesota voters and talking to them about the proposed amendment. I had some incredible conversations with people who are opposed to the idea of same-sex marriage. I went into these conversations in a spirit of prayer and humility. My hope was that these conversations would be an opportunity for us to discuss real issues -- and the impact that laws and amendments like this have on real couples, real families. Like mine. I did feel the Spirit present, keeping me calm, and helping me find the words to move conversations forward in a constructive, positive manner. More importantly, I felt it present helping people to understand why -- if marriage is a sacred commitment -- its sacredness and value as a form of commitment only become more meaningful by including couples like me and Göran, not less. I have had an intense sense of the sacredness of these conversations. I can hear it in the tone of voice of the people I speak with, as they begin to realize -- in talking to a real live gay person, in a real live relationship -- what this is all about.
I have prayed about this. I've actually even agonized about it a bit. I love the Church, and I have a testimony of it. And there's nothing that I want to say or do that would in any way undermine the Church, or the authority of those who have been called by God to lead it. There is no doubt in my mind that they are divinely called. And yet, every particle in me says that the current positions on homosexuality and on marriage for gay couples are wrong. And now that this fight is in my home state, I can't be any less than fully committed to be in this fight. But I don't want this to appear in any way as a rejection of my faith. Because every particle in me also says that the Church is true.
I understand why many in the Church believe what they believe about homosexuality. But I honestly believe much of the quandary over homosexuality is the result of the fact that folks are misapplying scriptures and commandments that were given in another time and another place for other reasons; and that we as a Church have not spent enough time seeking to understand God's mind for us here and now, in this time and this place on this issue.
And I have prayed and pleaded with God for help and insight as regards my own personal path. I've asked God if what I was doing in relation to marriage, and this campaign was the right thing. Because, for me, the bottom line is that if I received even a hint from the Spirit that being involved in the campaign to defeat the marriage amendment was wrong in the eyes of God, I couldn't in good conscience participate.
But the Spirit has said to me simply: "Fight." If I want justice, if I want people to understand the truth about me and my marriage, now is the time to stand up in faith, patience, love and hope, and expend all the energy I can in helping them to understand. I am pleading every day and night for God's help too... Like the woman in the parable. Like the saints under the altar. Ultimately, I trust that it's in God's hands. Things will proceed according to his timetable. But God also expects us to be active in the unfolding of his kingdom. To ask for what we need and want. And to let our lives be the unfolding of those prayers.
Parenthetically, it's clear to me here that the wine in question was alcoholic. I don't know how else to read the response of the "ruler of the feast" to Jesus' miracle in verse 10. It's clear to me from this and other New Testament texts that not only did Jesus not disapprove of wine-drinking, but that he partook himself. See, for instance, Luke 7:34/Matthew 11:19. I live the Word of Wisdom, and I believe it is divinely inspired, though I see it as a sign of obedience/devotion that is asked of the Saints in this dispensation, not necessarily in others. This is an important clarification; a reminder that what is most important is that we be attentive to what God is asking us to do now, in this time and place, not necessarily what he has required of Saints in other times and places living in other dispensations.
But this was not what interested me most in this chapter. In verse three, when Jesus' mother drops a rather broad hint that Jesus should use his miracle-working power to help provide wine for the wedding, Jesus' response is rather brusk: "Woman, what have I to do with thee? mine hour is not yet come." Some of the translation notes I've studied suggest that the original Greek is at least as harsh-sounding as this comes across in English. Imagine addressing your own mother as "woman," and responding to her request for help by saying "What do I have to do with you?" One translation note I looked at pointed out that this is the same question the demons address to Jesus in Mark 1:24 and Luke 4:34. Harsh.
The harshness of Jesus' response to his mother reminds me somewhat of the harshness of Jesus' response to Peter in Matthew 16, after Jesus had revealed his impending death in Jerusalem, and Peter had protested, "Far be it from thee, Lord: this shall not be unto thee" (Matt. 16:22). Here, in John, I think the key to the harshness of Jesus' response to his own mother is in the phrase, "Mine hour is not yet come." Here, as in Jesus' response to Peter, it was a question of Jesus' devotion to the calling he had received from God. Human beings should not, it seems, try to interfere with or "manage" that calling in any way. As Jesus understood it, that particular time and place -- the wedding feast at Cana -- was not his time yet. And he let his mother know in no uncertain terms.
Yet -- and in this, I can totally imagine Mary as a mom -- Mary is not phased in the least by the harshness of Jesus' response. She simply proceeds to instruct the servants at the wedding to do whatever Jesus asked them to do -- implying that he's going to go ahead and perform the miracle requested anyway. And Jesus, in fact, obliges her, in spectacular fashion, as attested in verse 10.
So the puzzle in what ensues is: Why, if his hour had not yet come, did he go ahead and perform the miracle? It's not that Jesus can't say no to his mother. He apparently does, for instance, in Mark 3:31-35 / Luke 8:19-21 / Matthew 12:46-50.
But this account's summary of the miracle (in verse 11) was that "this beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and manifested forth his glory; and his disciples believed on him." So the miracle in fact served a divine purpose. It became essentially, Jesus' "coming out," the beginning of works and teachings through which he would manifest his mission.
So even though this was not "his hour," at least not the one that he would have chosen, at Mary's insistence, he made it his hour. In other words, God's timetable was in fact rearranged to meet human requests/needs.
This tells us something important, I think, about the theology behind prayer. It seems to me that in fact there are blessings that God withholds from us, until we are willing to ask for them. Cross reference this story with the parable of the unjust judge in Luke 18:1-8, or with Revelation 8:1-4. If we are suffering an injustice, God does not expect us to fatalistically accept injustice. He invites us to plead, to pray with all the energy of our souls, for injustice to end. And if we exercise faith, and turn to him in faith, divinely ordained timetables of history can be changed. God will reward our faith, hope and persistence.
*****
I just learned that the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals has ruled that California's Proposition 8 is a violation of the U.S. Constitution. I have long believed that the patchwork of DOMA laws and state constitutional amendments denying marriage to same-sex couples were unconstitutional. This ruling affirms that. Though, obviously, now this is going to have to be settled by the highest court in the land. And who knows how that will go?
I have been getting more and more involved in the statewide campaign here in Minnesota to stop our state constitution from being amended to ban marriage for same-sex couples. Last night, spent two hours calling Minnesota voters and talking to them about the proposed amendment. I had some incredible conversations with people who are opposed to the idea of same-sex marriage. I went into these conversations in a spirit of prayer and humility. My hope was that these conversations would be an opportunity for us to discuss real issues -- and the impact that laws and amendments like this have on real couples, real families. Like mine. I did feel the Spirit present, keeping me calm, and helping me find the words to move conversations forward in a constructive, positive manner. More importantly, I felt it present helping people to understand why -- if marriage is a sacred commitment -- its sacredness and value as a form of commitment only become more meaningful by including couples like me and Göran, not less. I have had an intense sense of the sacredness of these conversations. I can hear it in the tone of voice of the people I speak with, as they begin to realize -- in talking to a real live gay person, in a real live relationship -- what this is all about.
I have prayed about this. I've actually even agonized about it a bit. I love the Church, and I have a testimony of it. And there's nothing that I want to say or do that would in any way undermine the Church, or the authority of those who have been called by God to lead it. There is no doubt in my mind that they are divinely called. And yet, every particle in me says that the current positions on homosexuality and on marriage for gay couples are wrong. And now that this fight is in my home state, I can't be any less than fully committed to be in this fight. But I don't want this to appear in any way as a rejection of my faith. Because every particle in me also says that the Church is true.
I understand why many in the Church believe what they believe about homosexuality. But I honestly believe much of the quandary over homosexuality is the result of the fact that folks are misapplying scriptures and commandments that were given in another time and another place for other reasons; and that we as a Church have not spent enough time seeking to understand God's mind for us here and now, in this time and this place on this issue.
And I have prayed and pleaded with God for help and insight as regards my own personal path. I've asked God if what I was doing in relation to marriage, and this campaign was the right thing. Because, for me, the bottom line is that if I received even a hint from the Spirit that being involved in the campaign to defeat the marriage amendment was wrong in the eyes of God, I couldn't in good conscience participate.
But the Spirit has said to me simply: "Fight." If I want justice, if I want people to understand the truth about me and my marriage, now is the time to stand up in faith, patience, love and hope, and expend all the energy I can in helping them to understand. I am pleading every day and night for God's help too... Like the woman in the parable. Like the saints under the altar. Ultimately, I trust that it's in God's hands. Things will proceed according to his timetable. But God also expects us to be active in the unfolding of his kingdom. To ask for what we need and want. And to let our lives be the unfolding of those prayers.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Pray Always
Bottom line: prayer is key to our salvation. And when I say salvation, I'm talking about here and now.
So here are some tips I've learned from both success and failure with prayer.
1. Prayer can feel silly when you're not sure God exists. But it can still be meaningful if it comes from the heart.
2. It's OK to start a prayer with, "God, if you exist, please help me with X..."
3. Rote prayer is about as useless as no prayer at all.
4. Rote prayer has nothing to do with whether you're reading a pre-written prayer from a book or not. It does have everything to do with whether your heart is in it. You can read a prayer from a book and if you mean it with your whole heart, it can be totally efficacious. And you can improvise a prayer off the top of your head, but if it's a litany of prayer platitudes that everyone just prays as some sort of prayer "filler," and you don't really mean any of it, that won't make it any more efficacious than if you had just read empty words from a book.
5. Some of the best prayers are when we don't ask for anything, and we just tell God what's going on in our lives, and thank him for all the good stuff.
6. Of course God already knows. But he still wants to hear from us.
7. If it doesn't feel like there's any good stuff, it's OK to just be silent and ask God to comfort you.
8. You can pray anywhere. On the bus. In the shower. Riding your bike. In between sentences while you're having a conversation. At a gay bar! (True!) God would rather hear a sincere prayer from you in any of those places than a rote, meaningless prayer mouthed while you're on your knees in some supposedly sacred place.
9. Think about what's going on in your life, and what you need to pray about before you pray.
10. If something feels amiss, if you feel bad about something, but you don't know quite what, that's a good time to pray.
11. God loves prayers of repentance. If we're doing things right, we will probably pray a lot of these kinds of prayers.
12. When you ask God to help with stuff, try to spend more time praying for others than for yourself.
13. When you pray for others, try to pray for them what they would pray for themselves. Otherwise, your prayers risk turning self-congratulatory and hypocritical. (Worse than rote prayers.)
14. Yes, we can pray without going through the motions of prayer. We don't need to be on our knees. We don't need to follow a prayer formula, etc. But going through the motions of prayer is important sometimes too. The motions can help remind us that when we pray, we are addressing a real person, who listens to us and responds to us.
15. It is important to listen after a prayer. (Or even before a prayer.)
16. Listening can continue after we get up off our knees. (Sometimes it needs to.) Sometimes we need to listen all day.
17. It's possible to listen while you're doing other things. Sometimes you have to focus on something else, but when you're done focusing on that something else, remind yourself to go back to listening.
18. One of the greatest blessings you can receive through prayer is the blessing of the Spirit's presence. That's one of the most important things to ask for in prayer.
19. One of the main reasons we need to pray is to help us gain an appreciation of the nature of our relationship with God.
20. We benefit the most from any individual prayer when that prayer is part of a life pattern of praying "always."
21. Prayer is a privilege.
I lived for many years without prayer. Looking back now, I'm not sure quite how I managed.
My greatest wish for anyone reading this blog who doesn't have prayer as a part of his or her life is that you might find some way to make it part of your life.
Gay Mormons need to pray for each other. Most of us are in need of all the help we can get. If anyone needs prayer, it's us. We need to remember each other in our prayers.
I will gladly pray with you, gay or Mormon or none of the above... I will gladly pray with you in person or over the phone. I will gladly think of you and offer prayers for you. Just email me, get in touch, however.
So here are some tips I've learned from both success and failure with prayer.
1. Prayer can feel silly when you're not sure God exists. But it can still be meaningful if it comes from the heart.
2. It's OK to start a prayer with, "God, if you exist, please help me with X..."
3. Rote prayer is about as useless as no prayer at all.
4. Rote prayer has nothing to do with whether you're reading a pre-written prayer from a book or not. It does have everything to do with whether your heart is in it. You can read a prayer from a book and if you mean it with your whole heart, it can be totally efficacious. And you can improvise a prayer off the top of your head, but if it's a litany of prayer platitudes that everyone just prays as some sort of prayer "filler," and you don't really mean any of it, that won't make it any more efficacious than if you had just read empty words from a book.
5. Some of the best prayers are when we don't ask for anything, and we just tell God what's going on in our lives, and thank him for all the good stuff.
6. Of course God already knows. But he still wants to hear from us.
7. If it doesn't feel like there's any good stuff, it's OK to just be silent and ask God to comfort you.
8. You can pray anywhere. On the bus. In the shower. Riding your bike. In between sentences while you're having a conversation. At a gay bar! (True!) God would rather hear a sincere prayer from you in any of those places than a rote, meaningless prayer mouthed while you're on your knees in some supposedly sacred place.
9. Think about what's going on in your life, and what you need to pray about before you pray.
10. If something feels amiss, if you feel bad about something, but you don't know quite what, that's a good time to pray.
11. God loves prayers of repentance. If we're doing things right, we will probably pray a lot of these kinds of prayers.
12. When you ask God to help with stuff, try to spend more time praying for others than for yourself.
13. When you pray for others, try to pray for them what they would pray for themselves. Otherwise, your prayers risk turning self-congratulatory and hypocritical. (Worse than rote prayers.)
14. Yes, we can pray without going through the motions of prayer. We don't need to be on our knees. We don't need to follow a prayer formula, etc. But going through the motions of prayer is important sometimes too. The motions can help remind us that when we pray, we are addressing a real person, who listens to us and responds to us.
15. It is important to listen after a prayer. (Or even before a prayer.)
16. Listening can continue after we get up off our knees. (Sometimes it needs to.) Sometimes we need to listen all day.
17. It's possible to listen while you're doing other things. Sometimes you have to focus on something else, but when you're done focusing on that something else, remind yourself to go back to listening.
18. One of the greatest blessings you can receive through prayer is the blessing of the Spirit's presence. That's one of the most important things to ask for in prayer.
19. One of the main reasons we need to pray is to help us gain an appreciation of the nature of our relationship with God.
20. We benefit the most from any individual prayer when that prayer is part of a life pattern of praying "always."
21. Prayer is a privilege.
I lived for many years without prayer. Looking back now, I'm not sure quite how I managed.
My greatest wish for anyone reading this blog who doesn't have prayer as a part of his or her life is that you might find some way to make it part of your life.
Gay Mormons need to pray for each other. Most of us are in need of all the help we can get. If anyone needs prayer, it's us. We need to remember each other in our prayers.
I will gladly pray with you, gay or Mormon or none of the above... I will gladly pray with you in person or over the phone. I will gladly think of you and offer prayers for you. Just email me, get in touch, however.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Know Thyself, Part III
I've suggested that the self is illuminated in relationship with a significant other. This could certainly be expanded to include all the diverse relationships we have in our lives. We learn who we are through all our family relationships and through friendships. And even our enemies teach us important things about ourselves that we can learn from nobody else. This is why I imagine that in the eternal worlds, we may actually be grateful to those who hated us or misunderstood us in this world. But I believe the most important form of self-knowledge that we achieve is the self-knowledge we achieve in relation to another Other -- in relation to God.
I'm not just talking about the self-knowledge that comes by absorbing Church doctrine that teaches us God is literally our Heavenly Parent, though that is important enough. That one little bit of knowledge ought to transform how we relate to everything under the sun. To live in accordance with that knowledge ought to become an unending wellspring of self-knowledge. But to know about our relationship with God is different from knowing God. So it's not enough simply to absorb or believe Church doctrine about God. There are things we can only learn about ourselves -- the most important things we can learn about ourselves -- by turning to God.
Some of the most important moments of revelation I've experienced in my life have often come, it seems, at the moments I feel most broken and most hopeless. I believe the reason for that is because in those moments the masks I usually wear to buttress my ego are no longer working for me. That's usually why I'm feeling broken; because my ego is most frail when my hopes and dreams are failing and my world is crashing down around me. Those are also the moments when the things that are truly most important to me come to the surface; I begin to learn what I really want and who I really am. Those are the moments when some of the most important things God has to teach me can actually penetrate; when the masks or the thick shells I've accumulated to protect myself are broken, and God can reach and teach the real me.
Of course I've learned that I don't need personal crisis to learn or be open to revelation. First of all, it is worth pointing out that these crises have almost always been -- I've learned in retrospect -- of my own creation. They were the result of me heading down a dead-end path, or were the result of my own faulty view of the world. In the case of the former, the crisis was my own mistakes finally catching up with me. In the case of the latter, the trauma was actually just disillusionment in the wake of unrealistic hopes or expectations. (Dis-illusion-ment is a good thing.) People might do terrible things to us, or we might have terribly bad luck, but it is how we respond to such situations that makes the difference between whether we perceive it as a crisis or not.
But to the extent that moments of personal crisis become moments of personal reorientation (or repentance), instead of forging a mask, what we do is we actually begin to create our own souls. We begin to move through the world in a way that God can reach us and teach us without our guts having to be spilled all over the place all the time. We begin to turn to God routinely, as part of the way we do business in the world.
It's worth pointing out that there's a lot of behavior that advertises itself as godliness that is nothing of the sort. Going around and bopping people on the head for being gay, for example, is a spectacular example of advertised godliness that is actually sort of the opposite of godliness. You can usually tell when you're in the presence of godliness because, well, it feels like Love.
When I've been doing this right, I've begun to yearn for quiet moments every day when I can present myself to God, and ask how I'm doing, and just listen. I have started to learn that sometimes you just have to check the notion that you're going to "say a prayer" before you get on your knees. When we start to pray a bunch of things that are just sort of the rote things that we pray because, well, we think it's what we're supposed to pray, that becomes part of the calcified mask that God eventually needs to break in order to get through to us. Sometimes I've literally had the Spirit just tell me to be quiet and listen. I certainly do pray words out loud; I frequently make very specific requests or express very specific thanks. But sometimes my prayer has to be just an attitude of thanksgiving, and silence, and listening openness.
Prayer can feel mighty silly when you're not sure if there's even anybody there to listen to what you have to say, much less talk back to you. I've been there at least twice in my life. What I can say about this is that some of the most sacred and powerful prayers I've ever uttered have been the ones that started, "I'm not even sure if you exist." For what it's worth, I've found that God richly rewards these kinds of acts of faith that come from the deepest parts of our soul, in the moments of our greatest need.
I think I've begun to catch some vision of the potential of this greatest form of self-knowledge, the kind that comes through our relationship with our Heavenly Father. It is that when God asks in relation to some task "Whom shall I send?" we can truthfully and without holding anything back reply, "Here am I, send me."
I'm not just talking about the self-knowledge that comes by absorbing Church doctrine that teaches us God is literally our Heavenly Parent, though that is important enough. That one little bit of knowledge ought to transform how we relate to everything under the sun. To live in accordance with that knowledge ought to become an unending wellspring of self-knowledge. But to know about our relationship with God is different from knowing God. So it's not enough simply to absorb or believe Church doctrine about God. There are things we can only learn about ourselves -- the most important things we can learn about ourselves -- by turning to God.
Some of the most important moments of revelation I've experienced in my life have often come, it seems, at the moments I feel most broken and most hopeless. I believe the reason for that is because in those moments the masks I usually wear to buttress my ego are no longer working for me. That's usually why I'm feeling broken; because my ego is most frail when my hopes and dreams are failing and my world is crashing down around me. Those are also the moments when the things that are truly most important to me come to the surface; I begin to learn what I really want and who I really am. Those are the moments when some of the most important things God has to teach me can actually penetrate; when the masks or the thick shells I've accumulated to protect myself are broken, and God can reach and teach the real me.
Of course I've learned that I don't need personal crisis to learn or be open to revelation. First of all, it is worth pointing out that these crises have almost always been -- I've learned in retrospect -- of my own creation. They were the result of me heading down a dead-end path, or were the result of my own faulty view of the world. In the case of the former, the crisis was my own mistakes finally catching up with me. In the case of the latter, the trauma was actually just disillusionment in the wake of unrealistic hopes or expectations. (Dis-illusion-ment is a good thing.) People might do terrible things to us, or we might have terribly bad luck, but it is how we respond to such situations that makes the difference between whether we perceive it as a crisis or not.
But to the extent that moments of personal crisis become moments of personal reorientation (or repentance), instead of forging a mask, what we do is we actually begin to create our own souls. We begin to move through the world in a way that God can reach us and teach us without our guts having to be spilled all over the place all the time. We begin to turn to God routinely, as part of the way we do business in the world.
It's worth pointing out that there's a lot of behavior that advertises itself as godliness that is nothing of the sort. Going around and bopping people on the head for being gay, for example, is a spectacular example of advertised godliness that is actually sort of the opposite of godliness. You can usually tell when you're in the presence of godliness because, well, it feels like Love.
When I've been doing this right, I've begun to yearn for quiet moments every day when I can present myself to God, and ask how I'm doing, and just listen. I have started to learn that sometimes you just have to check the notion that you're going to "say a prayer" before you get on your knees. When we start to pray a bunch of things that are just sort of the rote things that we pray because, well, we think it's what we're supposed to pray, that becomes part of the calcified mask that God eventually needs to break in order to get through to us. Sometimes I've literally had the Spirit just tell me to be quiet and listen. I certainly do pray words out loud; I frequently make very specific requests or express very specific thanks. But sometimes my prayer has to be just an attitude of thanksgiving, and silence, and listening openness.
Prayer can feel mighty silly when you're not sure if there's even anybody there to listen to what you have to say, much less talk back to you. I've been there at least twice in my life. What I can say about this is that some of the most sacred and powerful prayers I've ever uttered have been the ones that started, "I'm not even sure if you exist." For what it's worth, I've found that God richly rewards these kinds of acts of faith that come from the deepest parts of our soul, in the moments of our greatest need.
I think I've begun to catch some vision of the potential of this greatest form of self-knowledge, the kind that comes through our relationship with our Heavenly Father. It is that when God asks in relation to some task "Whom shall I send?" we can truthfully and without holding anything back reply, "Here am I, send me."
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Waiting As Spiritual Practice
I love Psalms 130 and 131, particularly these two passages:
I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope. My soul waiteth for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning: I say, more than they that watch for the morning. (130: 5-6)To me, these verses are about those times when I don't feel the Spirit. When I feel unsteady, or alone, or afraid, I know that it is time simply to calm my heart, go about my business, and wait with a prayer in my heart. Eventually, I will feel the Spirit again, just as those that wait for the morning eventually see the sun rise. My moods may fluctuate, but I can be steady, and trust that I will find my way again. I've realized that sometimes God expects us to stand up on our own ("like a weaned child"), to see what we can do on our own best resources. In those moments, I just do the best I can, even if I feel inadequate, knowing that I will learn something important. And knowing that even when I feel alone, I am never truly alone.
Surely I have behaved and quieted myself, as a child that is weaned of his mother: my soul is even as a weaned child. (131: 2)
Thursday, October 8, 2009
What Keeps Me Going
There are times when the only thing that keeps me going is my relationship with God.
My friends at Church try to be supportive and kind. But sometimes judgment or misunderstanding clouds the best of intentions, and I end up feeling like the alien in their midst. There's nothing more I want than to partake of that baptismal covenant to bear their burdens and have my burdens be born. But so often I feel alone, on the edge; invited in when folks are feeling that missionary fervor. But broken and apart when they don't feel it. There are the so frequent reminders that despite my testimony and my love for the Church and my best efforts, I'm not a member and can't be a member.
My family -- my husband and my son -- are always present, always a part of my life. They love me unconditionally and I love them back. We share the burdens and joys of every day life. That shared life is one of the greatest blessings of this life! The source of all the most valuable lessons I have ever learned and continue to learn! I can never be ungrateful for them, for the sheer gift of their mere presence in my life. But they don't feel the Spirit like I do; they don't understand my testimony or my relationship with God. To them, it is some kind of figment of my imagination that they tolerate because they love me. So the most profound, most important, richest part of my life I can't share with them. Oh how I wish I could! And that sometimes makes me feel more lonely than I have words to express.
My parents love me unconditionally. When I'm really down, or I really need encouragement, I can pick up the phone and call them. In their minds and hearts, I am not an alien, not an outsider or a foreigner or an exile from the Kingdom of God, I'm one of its most cherished members. And my testimony and my love for the Church and my love for God and for my Savior doesn't set me apart from them. They share it, and there's a language we can speak to each other about faith that we all understand. It's the language of the Spirit. Sometimes I talk to them on the phone and I just weep, and they weep with me. What a blessing my parents are to me! But my parents are far away, physically. (I've thought many times how I would love to live in Utah, closer to them!) And sometimes there are struggles and pains I can't share even with them.
And in those loneliest of alone times I turn to God. There's a text I just read this morning, that cut deep, right to the marrow of my bones:
Only my Heavenly Father knows my heart. That I can turn to him and confide everything in him, and be heard by him, and receive from him counsel and encouragement and wisdom... That's what keeps me going.
I received an email from a friend the other day, and he sent me words of comfort that were just the words that I needed to hear at that moment. My eyes filled with tears and I wept, I was so grateful. I was so thankful for his compassion. He is a member of the Church, and it was truly one of those "bearing one another's burdens" kind of moments. I was so grateful to God for this friend, and for the blessing that came to me from God through him.
This morning I had another such moment, when I got up and, after my usual morning routine, sat down at my desk to start work, and found there two cards, one from my husband and one from my son, wishing me a happy birthday. I opened and read their heartfelt expressions of love, and that too brought tears to my eyes.
But even those moments when I receive tremendous gifts from friends, from my husband and son, or from my parents, I still sometimes doubt myself. I doubt that I'm worthy of the love they offer me. But when I turn to my Heavenly Father and offer my broken heart to him, his words of comfort I can't doubt or deny. His reassurance enables me to receive and trust all the other assurances. It makes love and community and every other blessing possible; possible to be given and possible to be received with thanksgiving.
So I'm thankful to him, and thankful to everyone else. What would I be if I weren't thankful?
That is what keeps me going!
My friends at Church try to be supportive and kind. But sometimes judgment or misunderstanding clouds the best of intentions, and I end up feeling like the alien in their midst. There's nothing more I want than to partake of that baptismal covenant to bear their burdens and have my burdens be born. But so often I feel alone, on the edge; invited in when folks are feeling that missionary fervor. But broken and apart when they don't feel it. There are the so frequent reminders that despite my testimony and my love for the Church and my best efforts, I'm not a member and can't be a member.
My family -- my husband and my son -- are always present, always a part of my life. They love me unconditionally and I love them back. We share the burdens and joys of every day life. That shared life is one of the greatest blessings of this life! The source of all the most valuable lessons I have ever learned and continue to learn! I can never be ungrateful for them, for the sheer gift of their mere presence in my life. But they don't feel the Spirit like I do; they don't understand my testimony or my relationship with God. To them, it is some kind of figment of my imagination that they tolerate because they love me. So the most profound, most important, richest part of my life I can't share with them. Oh how I wish I could! And that sometimes makes me feel more lonely than I have words to express.
My parents love me unconditionally. When I'm really down, or I really need encouragement, I can pick up the phone and call them. In their minds and hearts, I am not an alien, not an outsider or a foreigner or an exile from the Kingdom of God, I'm one of its most cherished members. And my testimony and my love for the Church and my love for God and for my Savior doesn't set me apart from them. They share it, and there's a language we can speak to each other about faith that we all understand. It's the language of the Spirit. Sometimes I talk to them on the phone and I just weep, and they weep with me. What a blessing my parents are to me! But my parents are far away, physically. (I've thought many times how I would love to live in Utah, closer to them!) And sometimes there are struggles and pains I can't share even with them.
And in those loneliest of alone times I turn to God. There's a text I just read this morning, that cut deep, right to the marrow of my bones:
Then hear thou from heaven thy dwelling place, and forgive, and render unto every man according unto all his ways, whose heart thou knowest; (for thou only knowest the hearts of the children of men:) (2 Chron. 6: 30)
Only my Heavenly Father knows my heart. That I can turn to him and confide everything in him, and be heard by him, and receive from him counsel and encouragement and wisdom... That's what keeps me going.
I received an email from a friend the other day, and he sent me words of comfort that were just the words that I needed to hear at that moment. My eyes filled with tears and I wept, I was so grateful. I was so thankful for his compassion. He is a member of the Church, and it was truly one of those "bearing one another's burdens" kind of moments. I was so grateful to God for this friend, and for the blessing that came to me from God through him.
This morning I had another such moment, when I got up and, after my usual morning routine, sat down at my desk to start work, and found there two cards, one from my husband and one from my son, wishing me a happy birthday. I opened and read their heartfelt expressions of love, and that too brought tears to my eyes.
But even those moments when I receive tremendous gifts from friends, from my husband and son, or from my parents, I still sometimes doubt myself. I doubt that I'm worthy of the love they offer me. But when I turn to my Heavenly Father and offer my broken heart to him, his words of comfort I can't doubt or deny. His reassurance enables me to receive and trust all the other assurances. It makes love and community and every other blessing possible; possible to be given and possible to be received with thanksgiving.
So I'm thankful to him, and thankful to everyone else. What would I be if I weren't thankful?
That is what keeps me going!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Why I Bowed My Head with Rick Warren on Tuesday
Like millions of other Americans, my eyes were glued to a television screen yesterday around 11:40 a.m. Eastern Time. A large crowd of employees at the law firm where I work gathered in the lunchroom to watch Barack Hussein Obama be inaugurated 44th president of the United States of America.
It was a bit odd then, in this secular work setting, to experience prayer, even through the circumscribed medium of television. Having grown up Mormon in "the mission field," and having participated my whole life in General Conference via radio and television, I am accustomed to praying with someone in this way. Though not with co-workers.
For just a moment, as the announcer presented Rick Warren, I wondered how I would participate in this prayer, not just because of the awkwardness of this setting, but because of the mixed emotions raised by the "controversy" surrounding a key Prop 8 supporter being invited to ask God's blessings on the new president. The hesitation lasted only a moment. I knew that I had to pray with this man. I realized that I wanted to pray with him. Not because I think he was right about Prop 8, but precisely because I think he was wrong about it.
Perhaps Obama's choice of Rick Warren was a mis-step. Perhaps Obama didn't realize what he was doing when he asked Rick Warren to give the opening prayer at his inauguration. But given what I know about Obama, about the care and deliberation he gives to everything he does, from the words he gives at a campaign speech, to the manner of choosing a cabinet minister, I know he never acts impulsively. There are always compelling reasons -- whether you agree with them or not -- for what he does.
And Obama has made a conscious effort to send Americans a clear message since the night the votes were first counted and everybody knew he was going to be the next president. He deliberately spoke of his admiration for Doris Kearn Goodwin's book, Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln. He deliberately made cabinet choices of people with diverse and even conflicting views and personalities. The message was: We need to work together as a people, across our differences.
Some people try to build consensus by appealing to "moderates." They think that by excluding those at the polar edges of a debate that they will somehow be able to appeal to everybody. But I believe this approach to consensus-building is fundamentally flawed, and Obama's approach is right on. Instead of convening a coalition of moderates, the way to build true consensus is to bring everybody in, from all ends of the debate. Have a real conversation across real difference, not some mamby pamby, lukewarm, "moderate" love fest.
Obama could have picked somebody to say the opening prayer at his inauguration who would have offended no one. He had probably thousands of choices in that department. He deliberately did not.
Leaders of the gay community need to stop acting as if they have somehow been snubbed by Obama, as if we've somehow "lost" because Rick Warren said a prayer on the steps of the Capitol. We need to stop whining about how the Right Reverend Eugene Robinson was shunted off to some sideshow event where the sound didn't even work properly and that *gasp* wasn't even aired by HBO! We need to stop taking offense at every perceived symbolic slight, because every time we do that we are acting like second class citizens. We need to step to the plate. We need to be grown-ups now and try to understand exactly what Obama is trying to do, and be a part of the team, not whine and bemoan our supposed exclusion. Because I believe he truly wants us to be a part of the team and wants an America where we are fully enfranchised just like everybody else. And I truly believe that if we do our part, we need have no fear. Our time will come. We will achieve the equality we rightly hunger for.
Even if Obama has issues with the gay community, we need to understand that America is a land guided by the light of the principle of equality, where the forces of injustice and inequality have only gradually been driven back. There was no more tangible, visible reminder of that than the celebration of the inauguration of America's first black president in a nation where blacks still live in a state of economic and social inequality. The election of Obama was a huge step forward, literally and symbolically. But mostly symbolically. We still have a long way to go.
We have a lot of problems to face as a nation. Not just inequality, but war and poverty, illiteracy and illness, not to mention an economy that's currently in a state of cardiac arrest. The really tough stuff -- the tough decisions and the tough political wrangling -- has not even begun yet. And we're going to get all into a tizzy now, before the president's hands are even dirty with the task of actually solving some of these problems?
When I bowed my head and closed my eyes in prayer Tuesday morning, I realized I had a choice. I could hold back. In my heart and in my mind, I could leave this event and go join Eugene Robinson over at the sideshow and sulk with everybody else in my "tribe." I could refuse to take a moment to turn my spirit to God with a man I disagree with.
Or I could do something else. I could pray with Rick Warren and for Rick Warren. Because I need God's help and he needs God's help, and so does the rest of this pain-stricken, uncertain nation.
May God make a true nation of us. That's my prayer.
It was a bit odd then, in this secular work setting, to experience prayer, even through the circumscribed medium of television. Having grown up Mormon in "the mission field," and having participated my whole life in General Conference via radio and television, I am accustomed to praying with someone in this way. Though not with co-workers.
For just a moment, as the announcer presented Rick Warren, I wondered how I would participate in this prayer, not just because of the awkwardness of this setting, but because of the mixed emotions raised by the "controversy" surrounding a key Prop 8 supporter being invited to ask God's blessings on the new president. The hesitation lasted only a moment. I knew that I had to pray with this man. I realized that I wanted to pray with him. Not because I think he was right about Prop 8, but precisely because I think he was wrong about it.
Perhaps Obama's choice of Rick Warren was a mis-step. Perhaps Obama didn't realize what he was doing when he asked Rick Warren to give the opening prayer at his inauguration. But given what I know about Obama, about the care and deliberation he gives to everything he does, from the words he gives at a campaign speech, to the manner of choosing a cabinet minister, I know he never acts impulsively. There are always compelling reasons -- whether you agree with them or not -- for what he does.
And Obama has made a conscious effort to send Americans a clear message since the night the votes were first counted and everybody knew he was going to be the next president. He deliberately spoke of his admiration for Doris Kearn Goodwin's book, Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln. He deliberately made cabinet choices of people with diverse and even conflicting views and personalities. The message was: We need to work together as a people, across our differences.
Some people try to build consensus by appealing to "moderates." They think that by excluding those at the polar edges of a debate that they will somehow be able to appeal to everybody. But I believe this approach to consensus-building is fundamentally flawed, and Obama's approach is right on. Instead of convening a coalition of moderates, the way to build true consensus is to bring everybody in, from all ends of the debate. Have a real conversation across real difference, not some mamby pamby, lukewarm, "moderate" love fest.
Obama could have picked somebody to say the opening prayer at his inauguration who would have offended no one. He had probably thousands of choices in that department. He deliberately did not.
Leaders of the gay community need to stop acting as if they have somehow been snubbed by Obama, as if we've somehow "lost" because Rick Warren said a prayer on the steps of the Capitol. We need to stop whining about how the Right Reverend Eugene Robinson was shunted off to some sideshow event where the sound didn't even work properly and that *gasp* wasn't even aired by HBO! We need to stop taking offense at every perceived symbolic slight, because every time we do that we are acting like second class citizens. We need to step to the plate. We need to be grown-ups now and try to understand exactly what Obama is trying to do, and be a part of the team, not whine and bemoan our supposed exclusion. Because I believe he truly wants us to be a part of the team and wants an America where we are fully enfranchised just like everybody else. And I truly believe that if we do our part, we need have no fear. Our time will come. We will achieve the equality we rightly hunger for.
Even if Obama has issues with the gay community, we need to understand that America is a land guided by the light of the principle of equality, where the forces of injustice and inequality have only gradually been driven back. There was no more tangible, visible reminder of that than the celebration of the inauguration of America's first black president in a nation where blacks still live in a state of economic and social inequality. The election of Obama was a huge step forward, literally and symbolically. But mostly symbolically. We still have a long way to go.
We have a lot of problems to face as a nation. Not just inequality, but war and poverty, illiteracy and illness, not to mention an economy that's currently in a state of cardiac arrest. The really tough stuff -- the tough decisions and the tough political wrangling -- has not even begun yet. And we're going to get all into a tizzy now, before the president's hands are even dirty with the task of actually solving some of these problems?
When I bowed my head and closed my eyes in prayer Tuesday morning, I realized I had a choice. I could hold back. In my heart and in my mind, I could leave this event and go join Eugene Robinson over at the sideshow and sulk with everybody else in my "tribe." I could refuse to take a moment to turn my spirit to God with a man I disagree with.
Or I could do something else. I could pray with Rick Warren and for Rick Warren. Because I need God's help and he needs God's help, and so does the rest of this pain-stricken, uncertain nation.
May God make a true nation of us. That's my prayer.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Prayer
I turned in at the usual time, but couldn't sleep tonight. I thought I would sleep and then wake and that tomorrow would be just another day. But it's not.
It's times like these, I'm reminded of my humanness. My humanity. I'm made of flesh and blood and spirit, all these things. I love. I hunger. I hope.
I feel like for the last eight years, I've lived under a government that doesn't quite view me as fully human. That, in fact, views me, views my love, views my family as threats. That has treated me as a threat by trying to legislate a wall around us, to shut us out of the mainstream of life and love. And maybe that wall can start to come down tomorrow. Maybe I will wake up tomorrow and act and vote, and then begin the day after tomorrow with more hope that my life, my love, my family can have a place at the table along with everyone else. So I can't sleep. I'm too excited.
I didn't consciously make a decision to pray for the State of California tomorrow. Those prayers just began to well up from the depths of my soul a few days ago. Dear Heavenly Father, please forgive those who act out of ignorance, who act out of hate. Who don't understand and don't care to understand and don't even try to understand. Please forgive them. They don't know what they're doing. Please let a spirit of kindness, a spirit of generosity, a spirit of good will toward others prevail. Please pour out Your Spirit so that, where there is darkness, there will be light; where there is pitilessness, there will be compassion; where there is scapegoating and calumny, there will be truth. Please, Father in Heaven, bless the State of California in this decision. Bless the leaders and the members of the Church. Bless all of us. Help us remember the pattern Jesus showed us. Please help us walk the way he walked, more concerned to bless than to curse, more concerned to uplift than to discourage, more concerned to include and embrace than to exclude and cast out. Please help us, Father, because that's not the pattern of the world we live in. And too often, we bring those worldly patterns into churches and sanctuaries where they really have no place.
That prayer, welling up almost instinctively from that deepest place in my heart, has helped me these last few days to nurture hope. Kneeling in the presence of God and speaking those words keeps me rooted in a vision of the kind of world I want to live in, regardless of the outcomes of the plebiscites and decisions of tomorrow. Something to keep working for, regardless. So I can face each day with the kind of courage and love that the healing of the world requires.
It's a calming vision, a grounding vision. And still, I'm too excited to sleep. So I accept that excitement as part of my human condition. As a natural consequence of being me, in this time and in this place. I accept that sometimes all I can do is wait, and hope.
It's times like these, I'm reminded of my humanness. My humanity. I'm made of flesh and blood and spirit, all these things. I love. I hunger. I hope.
I feel like for the last eight years, I've lived under a government that doesn't quite view me as fully human. That, in fact, views me, views my love, views my family as threats. That has treated me as a threat by trying to legislate a wall around us, to shut us out of the mainstream of life and love. And maybe that wall can start to come down tomorrow. Maybe I will wake up tomorrow and act and vote, and then begin the day after tomorrow with more hope that my life, my love, my family can have a place at the table along with everyone else. So I can't sleep. I'm too excited.
I didn't consciously make a decision to pray for the State of California tomorrow. Those prayers just began to well up from the depths of my soul a few days ago. Dear Heavenly Father, please forgive those who act out of ignorance, who act out of hate. Who don't understand and don't care to understand and don't even try to understand. Please forgive them. They don't know what they're doing. Please let a spirit of kindness, a spirit of generosity, a spirit of good will toward others prevail. Please pour out Your Spirit so that, where there is darkness, there will be light; where there is pitilessness, there will be compassion; where there is scapegoating and calumny, there will be truth. Please, Father in Heaven, bless the State of California in this decision. Bless the leaders and the members of the Church. Bless all of us. Help us remember the pattern Jesus showed us. Please help us walk the way he walked, more concerned to bless than to curse, more concerned to uplift than to discourage, more concerned to include and embrace than to exclude and cast out. Please help us, Father, because that's not the pattern of the world we live in. And too often, we bring those worldly patterns into churches and sanctuaries where they really have no place.
That prayer, welling up almost instinctively from that deepest place in my heart, has helped me these last few days to nurture hope. Kneeling in the presence of God and speaking those words keeps me rooted in a vision of the kind of world I want to live in, regardless of the outcomes of the plebiscites and decisions of tomorrow. Something to keep working for, regardless. So I can face each day with the kind of courage and love that the healing of the world requires.
It's a calming vision, a grounding vision. And still, I'm too excited to sleep. So I accept that excitement as part of my human condition. As a natural consequence of being me, in this time and in this place. I accept that sometimes all I can do is wait, and hope.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Howbeit this kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting
Friends of ours are in crisis right now. So one of the most important things I feel I can do right now is to be a friend. This is not easy. It is not easy to witness suffering in those you love deeply. And since this particular crisis includes (but is not limited to) a separation and an impending divorce, another challenge is not to get drawn into taking sides. I have struggled to try to see things objectively, but also to be fully present.
On Monday, I got an email from our social worker, informing us about a child who was available for placement. This child has a significant disability, which includes certain behavioral issues. Göran and I sat down together that evening. We found ourselves doing research on the Internet to learn more about this particular disability. We talked. We wrestled. And gradually we realized that we did not have the experiential or the physical or financial resources to successfully take this child in. We had to say no.
And these experiences have left me reflecting on the nature of love, and also on my own limits and failings. Love means going the distance. I'm there for someone, no matter what. When they really need me, I drop whatever is happening and I help. I give of myself completely. I stay until the job is done. Limits mean I only have so much strength. I can only do so much. I do the best I can, I give till I can give no more, then I have to stop. I have to accept that I cannot solve every problem in my life, so I have to focus on solving the ones I can. Failings mean I have screwed up. I have done things that hurt me, that hurt my loved ones. I blinded myself, I denied my role in wrong-doing, I did not take responsibility.
How do we know the difference? How do we know when to say we will go the distance no matter what the cost, and when to acknowledge that we've gone as far as we can go? How do we know when we are incapable of doing what is demanded, and when we are capable but just don't have the will? How do we find the will?
Life is messy. Faced with circumstances such as these, I have found myself on my knees frequently, praying for help. Praying for God to help me and to help those I love: give us strength, help us see clearly, give us courage to face what we have to face. Praying to help us not get overcome with the fear that paralyzes, that sends us running when we need to stand firm. And this morning as I prayed, as I was aware of my own weaknesses, I realized I need to fast now too. I need the clarity and the humility and the calm that comes with fasting. I realized that some problems demand that seriousness. The real problems in life we just can't solve without prayer and fasting.
But then on the bus ride to work this morning, I was blessed with a moment of peace and clarity. Göran had a little puzzle book. He opened it up, and he and I worked on a puzzle together. That seemed like an image to me of how to move forward. In that moment, I realized that even when life seems too complex and too messy to get a handle on, it is also exceedingly simple. It boils down to just being present in the moment that is given to us, just focusing on one thing at a time, on the problem at hand, and being grateful for the people in our lives. Recognizing the good all around us, even when the bad seems in the foreground.
Yes, I've made mistakes. I've screwed up. I don't know why the wrong things I've done didn't do more harm than they did. How was I so lucky? And yes, life can hurt sometimes. It can hurt so bad we think we can't survive. But we can survive. We can find the strength we need, even when it's not obvious. Yes life is messy. Yes, we often don't know how to move forward. But yes, love is worth it. And yes, if we pray for understanding and strength, if we put ourselves on the line, if we are willing to fast, if we give our whole hearts, we can even transcend our limits. Miracles can happen.
It is time for some fasting and prayer.
On Monday, I got an email from our social worker, informing us about a child who was available for placement. This child has a significant disability, which includes certain behavioral issues. Göran and I sat down together that evening. We found ourselves doing research on the Internet to learn more about this particular disability. We talked. We wrestled. And gradually we realized that we did not have the experiential or the physical or financial resources to successfully take this child in. We had to say no.
And these experiences have left me reflecting on the nature of love, and also on my own limits and failings. Love means going the distance. I'm there for someone, no matter what. When they really need me, I drop whatever is happening and I help. I give of myself completely. I stay until the job is done. Limits mean I only have so much strength. I can only do so much. I do the best I can, I give till I can give no more, then I have to stop. I have to accept that I cannot solve every problem in my life, so I have to focus on solving the ones I can. Failings mean I have screwed up. I have done things that hurt me, that hurt my loved ones. I blinded myself, I denied my role in wrong-doing, I did not take responsibility.
How do we know the difference? How do we know when to say we will go the distance no matter what the cost, and when to acknowledge that we've gone as far as we can go? How do we know when we are incapable of doing what is demanded, and when we are capable but just don't have the will? How do we find the will?
Life is messy. Faced with circumstances such as these, I have found myself on my knees frequently, praying for help. Praying for God to help me and to help those I love: give us strength, help us see clearly, give us courage to face what we have to face. Praying to help us not get overcome with the fear that paralyzes, that sends us running when we need to stand firm. And this morning as I prayed, as I was aware of my own weaknesses, I realized I need to fast now too. I need the clarity and the humility and the calm that comes with fasting. I realized that some problems demand that seriousness. The real problems in life we just can't solve without prayer and fasting.
But then on the bus ride to work this morning, I was blessed with a moment of peace and clarity. Göran had a little puzzle book. He opened it up, and he and I worked on a puzzle together. That seemed like an image to me of how to move forward. In that moment, I realized that even when life seems too complex and too messy to get a handle on, it is also exceedingly simple. It boils down to just being present in the moment that is given to us, just focusing on one thing at a time, on the problem at hand, and being grateful for the people in our lives. Recognizing the good all around us, even when the bad seems in the foreground.
Yes, I've made mistakes. I've screwed up. I don't know why the wrong things I've done didn't do more harm than they did. How was I so lucky? And yes, life can hurt sometimes. It can hurt so bad we think we can't survive. But we can survive. We can find the strength we need, even when it's not obvious. Yes life is messy. Yes, we often don't know how to move forward. But yes, love is worth it. And yes, if we pray for understanding and strength, if we put ourselves on the line, if we are willing to fast, if we give our whole hearts, we can even transcend our limits. Miracles can happen.
It is time for some fasting and prayer.
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