Over the past several years I have had increasing internal struggles about my life. I worry about settling in and finding meaning and purpose. I have moments of intense awareness that this is my ONE LIFE and I want to be sure I am living it the best possible way. I worry about growing old, and even about hitting “mid-life” milestones. Just this morning I was evaluating my life situation. Am I here and now in the “right” place and time? How can I know for sure? My husband and I have made significant decisions about the direction of our lives recently, and I wonder if what we have done is “best.”
But this morning, I also reflected upon the well-worn phrase, “life is a journey.” And today, unlike other days, I had an epiphany about what that means for me. The journey of life is not (at least not for me) like a well-planned vacation with a moment-by-moment itinerary dictating my every move. I know some folks who plan their lives in this way, and, somehow, it seems to work out for them. I am not sure how! They make spontaneous choices like “what will we have for dinner” or “what color shirt will I put on,” but, on the whole, their life-plan is . . . well . . .PLANNED. My life journey, on the other hand, is more like an adventurous exploration. I have prepared in life for vocation and ministry, but mostly, I experience life as it comes. “Hey! I wonder where that road leads?” or “You know, we had planned to stay home and crash early tonight, but let’s have a party instead!” “Move to South Korea? Why not?” It is almost never the route of least resistance, but almost always a growing, learning, God-inspired faith journey.
So, today, I find myself in South Korea—in a great school with great people, and with my family with me at every step of the day. It is great! And while I am compelled to create an itinerary for the next . . . oh . . . 10-15 years of my life, I think I will live in this moment, today. I think I will keep trying to find contentment in the adventure and explore life. I will put to bed worries about “right” and “best” and instead, embrace this moment of my life as a gift from our most adventuresome Brother, Christ Jesus.
As it turns out, my journey so far has been rich with loving relationships and redemption experiences . . . isn’t that what The Journey is all about?
Friday, September 25, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Worship: Seeking God
My family and I have just moved to South Korea from our home in the States. In the States we have a beloved church family who worships in a liturgical style with Wesleyan theology. We love our co-worshippers there and we connect well through the style of worship. But that particular combination is challenging to find in the States--let alone in a foreign country, especially when we only speak English.
Our first Sunday here we joined a group attending an English-speaking international Catholic mass (the readers and servers were Korean; the preist was Irish). It was meaningful to connect with the reading of the texts, the Creed, and the reverence of the service. It seemed odd to find flatscreen monitors hanging from the aged pillars down the isles of the massive cathedral--practical, but odd. We encounted several theological differences in the service, but were mostly surprised at its pace: we were in and out of there in about 30 minutes. The homily was based on the story of Jesus' healing of the deaf and mute man, who went and told everyone everything the Lord had done for him though he was strictly told by Jesus to NOT tell. Point of the message: we should do what we are told and not flap our lips whenever we feel like it (my own paraphrase). Hmm.
Yesterday we joined a group of worshippers gathered at our school building, just across the street from our apartment. The worship started later in the morning and lasted significantly longer. The music was led by a full band and charismatic vocalists; it included both remixes of old hymns (with some puzzling lyrical adaptations) and repetitive choruses. The pastor preached a topical sermon--part 2 of his "Why Church is Boring" series. Hmmm. He had some good ideas. I connected most with the lyrics of a oft-sung hymn, "Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love; Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, opening to the sun above. Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; drive the dark of doubt away; Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day!" This familiar text (especially the lines italicized) enveloped me with the presence of Almighty God and enabled my heart to truly worship.
We have been 4 long Sundays from our beloved church family, and we long to connect meaningfully with a community of faith for worship of God and mutual encouragement. In the meantime, I did indeed find in these last, diverse Sundays that as I entered worship with a desire to meet with God, the Spirit enabled my heart to seek and find the Living Christ Present.
Thanks be to God.
Our first Sunday here we joined a group attending an English-speaking international Catholic mass (the readers and servers were Korean; the preist was Irish). It was meaningful to connect with the reading of the texts, the Creed, and the reverence of the service. It seemed odd to find flatscreen monitors hanging from the aged pillars down the isles of the massive cathedral--practical, but odd. We encounted several theological differences in the service, but were mostly surprised at its pace: we were in and out of there in about 30 minutes. The homily was based on the story of Jesus' healing of the deaf and mute man, who went and told everyone everything the Lord had done for him though he was strictly told by Jesus to NOT tell. Point of the message: we should do what we are told and not flap our lips whenever we feel like it (my own paraphrase). Hmm.
Yesterday we joined a group of worshippers gathered at our school building, just across the street from our apartment. The worship started later in the morning and lasted significantly longer. The music was led by a full band and charismatic vocalists; it included both remixes of old hymns (with some puzzling lyrical adaptations) and repetitive choruses. The pastor preached a topical sermon--part 2 of his "Why Church is Boring" series. Hmmm. He had some good ideas. I connected most with the lyrics of a oft-sung hymn, "Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love; Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, opening to the sun above. Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; drive the dark of doubt away; Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day!" This familiar text (especially the lines italicized) enveloped me with the presence of Almighty God and enabled my heart to truly worship.
We have been 4 long Sundays from our beloved church family, and we long to connect meaningfully with a community of faith for worship of God and mutual encouragement. In the meantime, I did indeed find in these last, diverse Sundays that as I entered worship with a desire to meet with God, the Spirit enabled my heart to seek and find the Living Christ Present.
Thanks be to God.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Harmony
Isn't it great that the Lord Jesus chose to be his disciples people from different walks of life, different perspectives, and different backgrounds? It is such an ideal to think of compiling a hodge-podge group and making a unified team . . . even family . . . of them. But living it is a challenge that seems to sometimes elude us.
When Jesus proclaimed the greatest commandments--to love the Lord God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength and out neighbor as ourselves--his listeners wanted clarification: "Just exactly who is this neighbor that we are to love?" I think they might have been hoping (as I often do) that the neigbor they were prescribed to love was the friendly one across the street whose children got along well with theirs, or the well-off couple around the corner who invited them over for lavish, snooty dinner parties. Jesus lures their imagination with a tale of man who is tramatized by robbers and who is ignored and left for dead by all of the people who should have helped him. Jesus' listeners are hoping to jump into the story as the knights in shining armor to rescue the neglected victim. Instead, Jesus has the audacity to make the hero of the story a Samaritan--a character with whom his listeners felt they had nothing in common. Jesus' listeners did not understand their northern neighbors with their loosy-goosy religious practices and foreign traditions. They prefered to keep these odd Samaritan "neighbors" at arms length (at least!). But it is this Samaritan who is cast as the "good" hero in the story; he is the rightly-loving one.
Perhaps it is as hard to allow ourselves the vulerability to even receive love from those who are different from us--who are outside the tidy boxes of "good neigbor" that we draw for ourselves. Evenso, isn't it the most challenging of feats that are most worth our persistent effort?
It is not the unison of tune (or thought, or perspective) that creates the most meaningful music, but the harmonization of different notes and rhythms that completes the fullest score. It is the bringing together of the different, in creative tension with each other that brings tears to our eyes and joy to our hearts. I am convinced that this is the kind of harmonic relationships that the Lord God has invited in our journey with Christ. Not an invitation to befriend the neighbors who are just like us or who are exactly like the people we want to become, but an invitation to be joined in meaningful, though sometimes tense and difficult, relationship with those who look and sound different from ourselves.
That is what it means to be the Body of Christ. It is at the very heart of what it means to be Christian.
When Jesus proclaimed the greatest commandments--to love the Lord God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength and out neighbor as ourselves--his listeners wanted clarification: "Just exactly who is this neighbor that we are to love?" I think they might have been hoping (as I often do) that the neigbor they were prescribed to love was the friendly one across the street whose children got along well with theirs, or the well-off couple around the corner who invited them over for lavish, snooty dinner parties. Jesus lures their imagination with a tale of man who is tramatized by robbers and who is ignored and left for dead by all of the people who should have helped him. Jesus' listeners are hoping to jump into the story as the knights in shining armor to rescue the neglected victim. Instead, Jesus has the audacity to make the hero of the story a Samaritan--a character with whom his listeners felt they had nothing in common. Jesus' listeners did not understand their northern neighbors with their loosy-goosy religious practices and foreign traditions. They prefered to keep these odd Samaritan "neighbors" at arms length (at least!). But it is this Samaritan who is cast as the "good" hero in the story; he is the rightly-loving one.
Perhaps it is as hard to allow ourselves the vulerability to even receive love from those who are different from us--who are outside the tidy boxes of "good neigbor" that we draw for ourselves. Evenso, isn't it the most challenging of feats that are most worth our persistent effort?
It is not the unison of tune (or thought, or perspective) that creates the most meaningful music, but the harmonization of different notes and rhythms that completes the fullest score. It is the bringing together of the different, in creative tension with each other that brings tears to our eyes and joy to our hearts. I am convinced that this is the kind of harmonic relationships that the Lord God has invited in our journey with Christ. Not an invitation to befriend the neighbors who are just like us or who are exactly like the people we want to become, but an invitation to be joined in meaningful, though sometimes tense and difficult, relationship with those who look and sound different from ourselves.
That is what it means to be the Body of Christ. It is at the very heart of what it means to be Christian.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Straight Paths
Our family is in the middle of what could be a turbulent transition. I had a friend ask how it was that we came to our decision to suddenly move our family across the country without confidence in jobs or a real plan. The best answer I could offer was that we were doing our best to be good parents to the three sons God has brought into our lives. Though, when I think about it, taking such risks with our sons' welfare on the line doesn't seem like such "good parenting."
We are becoming practiced in faith-leaps these days. Neither my husband nor I are major risk-takers; we are actually more the follow-the-rules type. But we have been invited to trust in the Lord with all our hearts and lean not on our own understanding, in all our ways to acknowledge Christ so that the Lord can make our paths straight (Prov 3:5-6, my paraphrase).
I don't really know what to do with this whole concept, though. In the past we have "heard the voice of God" directing us here or there and have followed. Though we have always been cared for, the pathway has sometimes been bumpy. And now, in this decision that seems more like a knee-jerk reaction than following some kind of "master plan," we are watching as "everything falls into place." The problem for me is that I cannot imagine that God is not working out all things for our good: jobs seemingly falling from the sky; a place to live that will help us and some friends while the housing market is slow; the eager, positive support of our family and friends. During hard times I am not one to say resignedly, "Well, God does everything for a purpose; there must be a reason for this." But during this time of relief and good news upon good news, I am constantly inclined to give thanks and praise to God for offering us straight paths.
Is it possible that the Lord is the God of the Gospel? The Good News? And that while God walks with us through the darkness of bad news and bumpy roads, God's actions are designed to bring about joy and peace and hope? I have more questions than answers about God's activity among us, but I confess with hope that "this is Our Father's world" and that "God is the ruler yet."
We are becoming practiced in faith-leaps these days. Neither my husband nor I are major risk-takers; we are actually more the follow-the-rules type. But we have been invited to trust in the Lord with all our hearts and lean not on our own understanding, in all our ways to acknowledge Christ so that the Lord can make our paths straight (Prov 3:5-6, my paraphrase).
I don't really know what to do with this whole concept, though. In the past we have "heard the voice of God" directing us here or there and have followed. Though we have always been cared for, the pathway has sometimes been bumpy. And now, in this decision that seems more like a knee-jerk reaction than following some kind of "master plan," we are watching as "everything falls into place." The problem for me is that I cannot imagine that God is not working out all things for our good: jobs seemingly falling from the sky; a place to live that will help us and some friends while the housing market is slow; the eager, positive support of our family and friends. During hard times I am not one to say resignedly, "Well, God does everything for a purpose; there must be a reason for this." But during this time of relief and good news upon good news, I am constantly inclined to give thanks and praise to God for offering us straight paths.
Is it possible that the Lord is the God of the Gospel? The Good News? And that while God walks with us through the darkness of bad news and bumpy roads, God's actions are designed to bring about joy and peace and hope? I have more questions than answers about God's activity among us, but I confess with hope that "this is Our Father's world" and that "God is the ruler yet."
Friday, June 27, 2008
Contentment
Contentment. Not my middle name. In fact, I find myself constantly looking around the corner for change and newness. I am an unsettled person, yet I long to find joy and peace in the present. I often fool myself into believing that those blessings are just around the corner, and that I will experience them when I am finally situatied in the right circumstances.
I have a feeling contentment was not part of Apostle Paul's identity either. He was a mover and a shaker. He was a get-it-done guy. Passion and drive make contentment difficult to experience. "I have learned to be content" (Phil 4:11b) is Paul's confession of faith. "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation" (Phil 4:12b). And the secret is this: "I can do all this through him who gives me strength" (Phil 4:13).
The "all things" to be done through the strength of Jesus is not my list of desired accomplishments or my agenda for success (even successful ministry). Instead, the gift of strength is for contentment. At least for those like Paul and like me who have to strong-arm our restlessness into contentment.
I am glad to know I am in good company. I am even happier to know that there is hope for my restless condition. I look forward to contentment. Ah! Alas! The moment is NOW!
I have a feeling contentment was not part of Apostle Paul's identity either. He was a mover and a shaker. He was a get-it-done guy. Passion and drive make contentment difficult to experience. "I have learned to be content" (Phil 4:11b) is Paul's confession of faith. "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation" (Phil 4:12b). And the secret is this: "I can do all this through him who gives me strength" (Phil 4:13).
The "all things" to be done through the strength of Jesus is not my list of desired accomplishments or my agenda for success (even successful ministry). Instead, the gift of strength is for contentment. At least for those like Paul and like me who have to strong-arm our restlessness into contentment.
I am glad to know I am in good company. I am even happier to know that there is hope for my restless condition. I look forward to contentment. Ah! Alas! The moment is NOW!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Power of God
There is no mistaking the omnipotent power of God described in Isaiah 40:12-31. God is the one who holds the waters of the earth in the hollow of God's hand and the dust of the earth in a basket. God is the One who rules on high and rules supreme over all.
The first reading for reflection in A Guide to Prayer for Ministers and Other Servants, week 34, is a quote from Prayer by Simon Tugwell. He writes, "It is assumed that if God is omnipotent he can do anything; but this is not strictly true . . . he has chosen to work in such a way that we can interfere, and interfere very drastically, with his creation." This is evidenced in the story of Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar from Genesis 16, 21. Sarah and Abraham "interfered very drastically" with God's purposes. Instead of allowing God room to make them the parents of the many nations who would be blessed to be a blessing for all nations, they took matters into their own hands. In their impatience and lack of faith (or perhaps ignorance and lack of understanding), they attempted to help God out by using Hagar as a means to accomplishing their own desire to be blessed by God.
And while God did not stop them from interfering, neither did God step aside and allow their interference to thwart God's ultimate purposes of redemption. God's omnipotent power is revealed as the power to create, in this case, the power to create an alternative, imaginative resolution to the mess our kind had made. God does not force or coerce or fight. In fact, "God makes wars to cease to the ends of the earth; God breaks the bow and shatters the spear, God burns the shields with fire" (Ps. 46:9 NIV). Instead, God creates. God imagines an alternative reality.
This is the sort of power of God that I need to help bring about alternative realities to the world in which I live. I need the creative imagination of God to discover redemptive pathways of guidance and discipline for my young boys as they are growing. I find that fighting and yelling and using force is what comes most naturally to me. I can get away with bullying them into my design for their living because I am yet bigger and smarter than they. And yet I find that weilding this kind of power leaves me empty and wanting. And it does not lead to redemptive relationships. In fact, I see my faltering tactics on display before me as my children reenact my powerplays on each other. And I am grieved.
It is the more resistant soil of creation and imagination that needs to be cultivated in me. This is the power of God for reconciliation, redemption, hope. This is the imago dei I long to be reflected in my life as God's child.
The first reading for reflection in A Guide to Prayer for Ministers and Other Servants, week 34, is a quote from Prayer by Simon Tugwell. He writes, "It is assumed that if God is omnipotent he can do anything; but this is not strictly true . . . he has chosen to work in such a way that we can interfere, and interfere very drastically, with his creation." This is evidenced in the story of Abraham, Sarah, and Hagar from Genesis 16, 21. Sarah and Abraham "interfered very drastically" with God's purposes. Instead of allowing God room to make them the parents of the many nations who would be blessed to be a blessing for all nations, they took matters into their own hands. In their impatience and lack of faith (or perhaps ignorance and lack of understanding), they attempted to help God out by using Hagar as a means to accomplishing their own desire to be blessed by God.
And while God did not stop them from interfering, neither did God step aside and allow their interference to thwart God's ultimate purposes of redemption. God's omnipotent power is revealed as the power to create, in this case, the power to create an alternative, imaginative resolution to the mess our kind had made. God does not force or coerce or fight. In fact, "God makes wars to cease to the ends of the earth; God breaks the bow and shatters the spear, God burns the shields with fire" (Ps. 46:9 NIV). Instead, God creates. God imagines an alternative reality.
This is the sort of power of God that I need to help bring about alternative realities to the world in which I live. I need the creative imagination of God to discover redemptive pathways of guidance and discipline for my young boys as they are growing. I find that fighting and yelling and using force is what comes most naturally to me. I can get away with bullying them into my design for their living because I am yet bigger and smarter than they. And yet I find that weilding this kind of power leaves me empty and wanting. And it does not lead to redemptive relationships. In fact, I see my faltering tactics on display before me as my children reenact my powerplays on each other. And I am grieved.
It is the more resistant soil of creation and imagination that needs to be cultivated in me. This is the power of God for reconciliation, redemption, hope. This is the imago dei I long to be reflected in my life as God's child.
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