When She Said Yes

"I am the Lord's servant," 

Mary answered.

"May it be to me as you have said."

Luke 1:38

These just might be the most pivotal words ever spoken.

I risk exaggeration or over simplification, 

but it's hard for me to unhook my heart from this consideration.   

A maiden unassuming,

with a wedding looming, 

says "yes" to what she knows is impossible 

and cosmic 

and all-consuming. 

And in so doing 

brings about the rescue of humanity 

from insanity.

She.  Says.  Yes.

And I pause in the mess of my own ego-grasping,

gasping at the enormity of her conformity to the plan of God.

She bears the One,

the Son,

and the whole of the created universe

is changed forever,

severed from a destiny of self-destruction

by the self-deflection of one surrendered heart.

And this is how God chooses to bring redemption.

Through human suspension of self-will.

She.  Says.  Yes.

Pivotal.

My yes seems less.

Unless....

What if God still does this?

What if Jesus is carried and delivered

by unshivered hearts that still declare the yes

even now, in this mess?

What if yes is God's conduit of grace,

somehow vibrating through my face to 

bring the Redemption

to a world that still so badly needs Him?

My yes seems less unless

there's a pivotal yes for me to say

today

to bring and sing the same song of abandon Mary sang

Somehow

To be that broken and unspoken jar of clay;
a way of shalom
of redemption
of bigger things than my own assumptions
Here and now
To say
Yes
And watch with wonder
What He'll do with it.

 

Glory Laid By

I confess to a need in me to be important.

Of all the mirrors of self-awareness 2018 held up to my inner terrain, this was one of the most troubling.  It seems that there is much work to be done in my soul here.  It's difficult work and I don't like how it makes me all angsty.

But I am finding Christmas is good for what ails this soul right now.

Because I also confess to a restless fascination with the whole Christmas idea that God was born.
That He actually did that.
That He actually 'laid His glory by' as Wesley pens it in Mendelssohn's  carol "Hark the Herald Angels  Sing".

Mild, He does this.

The Incarnation.  

           The concept that the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe, 

the King of Everything, 

Sovereign  Deity and Holy God 

actually stepped down and contained Himself in our time and space, 

actually wrapped Himself in human flesh 

and entered our world in a messy, beautiful, intimate, humble miracle.

God puts aside god-ness to become like me. 

How is that even a thing?

I am more inclined to push against my humanity to be something more.  More in control.  More significant.  More listened to.  I tend to grasp for, long for power and status.  And it's so insidious in me that I don't even realize it until some of it is taken away and I feel afraid of the plain humanity I'm left with.

But not God.

God did not regard it a thing to be grasped, but He emptied Himself.  All the way.

All the way to the gush of amniotic fluid and blood, and needing someone to wipe Him off and clear His mouth and nose so He could breathe.  All the way to absolute vulnerability, and needing someone to wrap something warm around Him, and to nurse Him.

All that way.

He went all that way so I could be free of all the subtle and not-so-subtle insidiousness that still entangles me, these 61 Christmases of my life later, when I am undone again by my need to be important to which I confess.

Sweet Baby Jesus, 

laying there without Your glory, 

forgive me.

Work in me 

until I want to be mild like You 

more than anything else.

Fasting and the Feast of the Returning

I am awake with joy this morning.  

A long endurance of six months ends 

as this Sunday dawns with an eager return to my community of faith.

My tribe, my peeps, my beloveds.  That essential place of belonging that every human soul needs to survive and thrive.  God knows, so He invented the Church.  And I love His Church, as flawed as she/we may be.  And I especially love the Church that gathers together and calls herself/ourselves Highview.

This is a community I've loved recklessly for what seems like my entire life.   So these months apart, although necessary and wisely planned, turn out to have been a wretched-wondrous opportunity for a kind of fasting.  Fasting - The deprivation of something longed for and the hungers evoked in doing so, and the clarity that comes when you're just that needy.   So beautifully humbling is this neediness, and I have been humbled, oh so humbled by my neediness these long, long months.

The intensity of my hunger for worship and receiving Communion with people to whom I belong was shocking, and disorienting, and unnerving.   My need for the touch of friends, to be embraced, to be spoken to with affirmation became cravings that threatened my sense of self.  Without the 'together' of life for this past while, I found myself alone in ways I had never had to be before.

And it forced me into God's heart.  

Pushed me there with an alarming force.  

And there He reminded me of the two things.  

One, He is enough.  

Two, I was created for connection.

Over a long ministry of preaching and teaching I have expounded on a theology of community, likening it to the Divine Community of Father, Son and Holy Spirit, explaining that our need for connection is one of the ways we bear the image of God, citing Scripture texts in abundance that call us to love and be loved, know and be known.  I've preached it.  And the thing is, these six months I found out in real time, in sharp ways, it's all true! Like, really, really true. 

It really is true that we need each other to be whole spiritual beings. 

It really is true that our corporate offering of worship reorients us to True North.

It really is true that we share in the Bread and the Cup in sacred ways when we take it together.

It really is true that love is the main thing.

And love sustains and love feeds and love bears and love rejoices.

And today, oh day of feasting, this day I return.  My hungry heart comes home. 

Home to a new way of being, with sensitivity and submission and great awareness of what's weird about it.  But a new way of being I'm so very willing to figure out, just for the privilege of being home.

I am so very grateful for my God who is enough.
I am so very grateful for the Elders of Highview who have invited me to stick around in this new thing.
I am so very grateful to Pastor Erin for her grace and courage to take some risks with me as we continue to serve Highview together in different ways.
I am so very grateful for my husband Ken who has held me through these difficult months.
And I am so very grateful for my community of faith, for being so amazing that it hurt that much to be away from you.

And now.....the fast is ended.  

Let the feasting begin!

All This Time

"I will come and proclaim Your mighty acts,

O Sovereign Lord,

I will proclaim your righteousness,

Yours alone.

Since my youth, O God, you have taught me,

and to this day I declare Your marvelous deeds.

Psalm 71:16-17

Is it really possible that tomorrow I will get on the plane to come back to Canada?

This warp that separates my two worlds by twelve hours also plays with my sense of time passing, I think.  This hurling forwards into tomorrow adds to any sense of not knowing what day it is, how long it's been.  Because really, it seems to me that I just got here, AND that I've been here much longer.  Like, maybe always.  Happens a lot here.  I relax into the rhythms of life, get it right about drinking enough water, let myself have the afternoons off, and press into the days that are a flurry of the unexpected.  And it feels like I've been doing this all my life.

This distortion of time has been exaggerated these specific four weeks, however.  Big things happening at home make for a weirdness in being away that's hard to describe.  And as such, I've barely written.  Barely blogged.  Which isn't great when there are so many faithful friends who are praying with me and supporting the work here, and you all really ought to know what's going on, just generally, in a day to day, kind of way.

But my heart is heavy with the passing of a dear friend, Jen, who also loved this place and these children.  And when I left, even though things didn't look great, we both expected that I would see her again this side of glory.  Now instead, I arrive home to conduct the celebration of life service of someone I love very much.  And this following a six month absence from the community of faith I love so dearly.  And we're all grieving, and I'm back to grieve together.  And I'm so glad for that.

But at the same time it feels distorted and strained.  It feels so stretched to have been away.

Happily, my grandson Jayden's six day-stay in the hospital did finally come to an end.  But in the real-time of it, over texting and emails with his mother, my daughter....It just was so not okay with my Gramma heart not to be there.  Again, stretched out too tight, too far.

And now packing, knowing that I will again be hurling myself through time, backwards now,  And it will only exchange one heart-stretching for another.  Because really, it seems to me that I just got here.  And there's so much more to do.  Especially now that our New Family Foundation has been officially accepted by the Thai government, and we are a real live entity.  Especially now, on the cusp of this vision that Pastors Suradet and Yupa have held up to God for more than seven years, asking me along, and asking for the widened capacity of love and ministry this brings.

And we have been so busy on those days of unexpected flurry!  District offices, and tax departments and banks and signs being made and stamps being inked.  Budgets to clarify and job descriptions to write and lists to make of what comes first and what comes next and what have we actually gotten ourselves into?

And I have dug deep into what it means to do this cross-culturally this time out.  My studies this semester have been about this very thing.  About how we partner with each other, leveraging the differences in how we think, behave, speak and live for the increased effectiveness of sharing the story and the love of the Jesus we say we follow.  Deep reading.  Oh so much reading.  And then, while here, putting lesson plans into actions, preaching sermons, one in Thai, and writing, writing, writing the reports and the research paper.  And then, just this morning, getting it all sent in, a little ahead of time.

So this stretching, this pulling has been awful and splendid at the same time.

I don't understand why my friend had to get cancer in the first place, let alone why her time to leave us had to happen when I was away.  I don't pretend to have any great, philosophical, or even theological answer to put it all away in a tidy box.  This was messy.  This trip, this being here when so much was going on at home, and so much was going on here, it was just messy.  And there were times when the stress plus the heat sent me to my bed for the better part of the afternoon, just coping.

But.



When it all gets that much out of my grasp, it's just another way of remembering again and again that we're co-writers of our lives, not the one and only authors.  Those of us who have invited God to lead and direct, we surrender, don't we?  Aren't we supposed to be letting Him be God?

And the crazy thing about it is, that He actually gets us involved in it.  We're not hapless victims of His 'perfect plan and purpose'.  As we cooperate, we get to help write the story.

I stop here every time I think of this.

We get to co-write our story with God.

At least that's how it seems to me.  Every time we say yes.  Every time we watch Him do something different than we expected and believe that He knows what He's doing, He knows how to be God.  Every time we're on the wrong side of the planet and our humanity gets in the way of us being everything and everywhere we want to be.  Every time we just say, okay, do Your thing.  I'm with You, even in this.  I praise You even in this....Every time that's another chapter of a story that's worth living.

So I put this month into the bigger strand of months that make up the years of my life, and it doesn't have to make sense all by itself.  I know this.  I know because an eleven year old girl once said yes to God if He wanted to take her to Asia.

And in that moment it didn't make any sense at all.

But it does now.

So, this month....I'll let it take its time to explain itself to me.  But even if it doesn't.  Even if I never know all the reasons for all the things, for being far away and right here at the same time, it's okay.  Because God knows.  He does.  And all my life, all my life, He has been faithful to me.

Woven

Both and.

This band,
this weaving of a beautiful-wretched way of life,
and strife.  Here,
there, stretched bare
between the tensions
on this loom of a two-worlds life.

I find myself tamped down

switched around.
Threads dangling in the wrangling
of a secure design
assigned by unseen Hands.

Both and.

Both joy and muddle
in the rhythm of the shuttle
and the shuffle
of friends dying far away.
Again.
Again.


But.

News of new babies
and Thai ladies
and sunshine in the bleak month
of November.
Bai teo to a holy place
reminding me of undeserved grace
even in this stretched out place
of grim realities.

So I surrender in November,
this piece of my humanity -
and the insanity of wishing I could be present in the
both and.
Here and there.

Because God is.
Here and there.

And in this both and
I can rest in knowing
He's showing Himself
in brilliant pieces of tapestry.
A mastery of peace.

When It All Starts To Make Sense

Photo Credit:  Evangeline Wilton

It's more than just the lack of humidity these first few days.  Although it does provide a metaphor.

I've been here in November before, but don't remember it being quite this pleasant.  Temperatures are very agreeable for sleeping at night, and, during the day, a high of 30ish is a a fine contrast to the cold and rainy and windy weather we left behind.  But even more, there's really no humidity to speak of.   And I'm sure that wasn't the case when I was here in the fall of 2015.  All day I feel it.  Just that easy comfort of a perfect day of warmth and sunshine, relaxed and deeply convinced that this is where I need to be right now.

If humidity makes heat feel hotter, then we could say stress makes work - even well loved work - 'workier'.  Not as organic, not as focused, not as enjoyable.

Despite the strong matters that made it difficult to leave (and which very much still occupy my heart and my prayers) I find again that happy reality I experienced when I was here in August.  I am now doing this one thing.  And now, doing this part of what I believe God is asking me to do is so much more organic, focused and enjoyable in this new reality.

I'm hating to admit it for fear it may sound like I did not love being a pastor.  I did.  With my whole heart.  Enough to make these past five months drill down into the work of grieving and of letting go.  I don't think that is done either.

But being here and feeling the difference - the difference in how much I can be fully present in each moment, how easier it is to adapt and go with the flow, how clear-minded I am about what I'm teaching and for my language study, and how often I feel myself ride a little wave of "I can't believe I get to do this!!!!" - I think something very wonderful is starting to make sense.

This stepping aside from pastor and moving into missionary was a good idea.

When you make a decision as impactful as stepping away from a ministry you helped birth, and have been actively and ridiculously involved in throughout it's 20 year history, when you do that, it really shakes your pysche.  But here I feel oriented again, in my element again, like things fit again.

And with the clearer air of just one focus, yes, I can breathe easier. 

Of course, having said all that, I'm here for the month and then, oh glorious then, on December 2, I get to be back at Highview again.  So I think, this visit, there's also a LOT to look forward to going home.

Photo Credit: Evangeline Wilton

The month is still before me. 

We've only begun the first of three units prepared to help us be Strong, Smart and Savoury.  We're memorizing Zechariah 4:6.  We've got 100 words of vocab to learn.  And I get to distill it all into a research paper about this very thing that has captured my heart - cross cultural ministry relationships.

Here comes another little wave because, really...

I can't believe I get to do this!

A God-Sized Church

I want to be careful here.

I love my big-church brothers and sisters, both those leading them and those involved in any other way in the fabulous ministries they have.  Many are very dear friends of mine.  I am delighted to be part of City Watch in Kitchener Waterloo, a gathering of church and para-church leaders, where our emphasis is this idea that we are "one church" in the city, doing what we do together better than if we kept to ourselves.  And I believe in that.  Very much.

So what follows is not in any way, by any means, an us-and-them polemic.

Because I also love pastors of small churches and the churches they love and lead!!!!!

The thing is, there are countless pastors of small churches out there who are "suffering from debilitation and even depression fostered by a lack of significance" and, I would add, by an unnecessary negative comparison to the perception that huge equals success.  Quoting again Karl Vaters in The Grasshopper Myth, "God has a lot of demoralized leaders."

This breaks my heart.  Because I've done that trek, and it's crushing.

We can't help it, us pastor types, this comparison thing.  In a vocation that already is not particularly esteemed within our current post-modern culture (see Gary Nelson's Borderland Churches for stats and history), the most we can hope for is some sort of validity within our own circles.  Unfortunately, we're human enough to default into measuring our success, our importance, by the optics.  And the biggest optics happen around Sunday morning attendance and the size of the building where that congregation meets.  And if you have a smaller building, well then, at the very least, you surely must be having 'multiple services'. 

Multiple services, multiple staff, multiple baptisms, multiple anything.  It all sounds like growth, and it is growth.  Just not the only kind of growth that happens in the kingdom of God.

My heart breaks because for such a long time I was focused on these optics and getting disillusioned and disheartened.  I had tried to be all the things the conference speakers said I should be.  Tried to implement all the strategies the assessment tools said should be implemented.  Tried to attract the "right" kind of people.  I blamed myself.  And worked harder.

And all the while when it wasn't "happening", all the while I was working so hard but not getting the results I expected, I was missing the very things God was doing among us, not in spite of, but largely because of the fact that we were a small church!

The 'aha' happened in a time we Bible-types can sometimes call 'wrestling with God'.  I had gone away overnight for a time of solitude, and I was prepared to duke this out with Him.  A ways into my prayer rant I started to get mad.  I had given up some of my most cherished treasures for the church.  Why wasn't God coming through and providing the obvious measures of growth and success I was sure He owed me?  And as proof of great mercy and grace I was NOT struck by lightening in that hotel room!

Instead I surrendered, like a child having a meltdown finally relaxes into the arms of her parent.  Okay, Lord.  This is Your church.  Have it Your way.

Which is what He was going to do anyways.  And oh, I am so glad He did.

Because not so coincidentally, after that time, I started to see God doing no end of amazing things in the hearts of our people.  Passion for social justice began to manifest itself in positive action with real life results.  Young people who were supposed to be leaving the church in droves were sticking around and taking new responsibilities of leadership and involvement.  Folks of all stripes were being cared for and embraced within the organic relational web of knowing and being known that happens quite naturally in a church our size.  Neighbours were being fed.  Orphans were brought into a family. Seniors were being housed.  Marriages were being fortified.  Life was being offered, and received, and poured out again in blessing.  Stuff like mercy and love and joy and kindness and perseverance and gentleness and self-control was becoming more and more evident in our ways of being the church together.

A work in progress for sure.  Not perfect, since I was in the midst of it.  But even in that, even in daring to be transparent enough to take my own stumbling steps of spiritual formation within this community, I sensed more and more the grace and love that told me we were a successful church.

These are harder things to see.  Can't really put it all on pictures or cool videos on our website.  Didn't change much the size of our Sunday morning attendance.  But it was 'happening'.

And it was 'happening' in a small church.

I didn't stumble upon Karl Vader's book until after my own trek through this crush.  I am grateful for church Elders who stayed focused on the important things despite their own temptations to compare.  I am grateful for mentors and encouragers who kept telling me what they saw in me that God wanted to use for the kingdom.  Mostly, I am grateful for the beautiful, honest people who somehow kept at it even when I was having my own flares of temper, and stayed with me, stayed with each other, until we came out the other side to see the brilliance of God's better story for us.

So, pastor of a small church.  Carry on!  Stand firm.  Let nothing move you.  You have an essential ministry assignment.  Those people God gave you?  They are yours to love and lead and be with. Love deeply these cherished ones.  And let them love you.  They are showing you the face of God.

There is good work happening in hearts all around you.  Your church has every reason to be successful without the mega in front of it.  Stay healthy.  Yes, work on healthy.  Read books that draw you into the deeper places of pastoral contemplation.  Books by authors like Peterson, Palmer, Willard, and Nouwen.  

Love your Bible.  Pray like you mean it.  Listen to the stories of your people.  Stay open.  Partner with the bigger churches around you.  Watch for all God will bring you, as with Him, you build this God-sized church He's asking you to shepherd.

Maybe you will grow big in numbers.  Maybe you won't.

Either way, what an honour to do this thing we do.  And you're not alone.

The Gramma Thing

Zachary has always been, shall we say, expressive. 

And I love it. 

Since we lived together in the same house for the first three years of his life, I can say with confidence that even as a baby he found his way all across the emotive scale, back and forth to either end, often in a matter of seconds, there and back again, and again.   What you get from Zachary is exactly what he's feeling at any given moment.  "Plain, unvarnished truth," as my Dad used to say.

Last week he and I ended up spending a lot of time together.  On Tuesday he had an appointment during work hours, and I was more than happy to make myself available.  And then, quite unrelated, that evening he started running a fever that got him dropped off to my house for the day on Wednesday.  Normally, Wednesday nights are a standing order for either Ken or I to be at their house to put younger folks to bed when Mom and Dad are out.  So by Wednesday afternoon, when he was being picked up, I said, "I'm going to see you again in just a few hours.  You're going to say, 'Gramma, I'm sick of you!'"

Without any hesitation and with a sincerely puzzled look on his face, Zachary asked, "Why would I ever say that?"

Something's working.

My relational world has shifted significantly lately, which is why I am musing on these various circles of my life, at this particular stage of my life.  And in my musings, I conclude that this Gramma thing is of HUGE importance to me.

From the moment I knew my daughter was expecting our first grandchild, I had dreams.  Dreams about what kind of Gramma I would like to be, and what kind of connection I might be able to have with my grandchildren.  Now, twelve years and four grandkids later I am finding a great and surprising joy in how those dreams have worked out. 

These kids!  They teach me so much about everything; about priorities and surrender and abandoned joy and unconditional love.  They are truly glad when I show up, and who doesn't need that?  They feel free to tell me ever so politely, "Gramma I would just like to point out that we haven't been to the Dollar Store in quite some time" (Harvest).  And apparently, they can't imagine ever getting sick of me.  What a gift to my always-struggling self esteem.


With no little gratitude toward my children and their spouses, who are key in all of this, I can say with wonder and delight, I think we're doing this well, the kids and I, this Gramma thing. 

I am rich beyond my imagination.

And then.

God gave me more.

Because there are 26 more grandchildren half way around the world.  And somehow for some reason still incredulous to me, they have adopted me.  And I get to be Gramma to them too.  And this has been not a dream but a surprise.  Not something I saw coming at all, really.  But a gift I fully embrace and receive with great joy.  These kids teach me so much about everything; about perspectives and sacrifice and impossible joy and reckless love.  They too, to my astonishment, seem genuinely glad when I show up, and would never in a million years dream of asking to go to the Dollar Store (so NOT gringjai!), but vibrate with delight if we just head down to the 7/11 for ice cream.

I am rich beyond my wildest Gramma dreams.

To do this together with Grandad - that's just over the top.




These are good, good days.  Cups-running-over kinds of days.  Made-it-through-some-storms-and-are-better-for-it kinds of days.  Doing-this-together-no-matter-what kinds of days.  Days of loving deeply and forging family for a new generation.

This Gramma thing.
I think it's one of my life's best rewards.

A Thank You to Pastors This Thanksgiving Weekend - October is Clergy Appreciation Month

Dear Pastor and Ministry Servant,

This weekend you will lead your people in an expression of thanksgiving and praise to the One who has lavished so much on us.  These kinds of Sundays stand out.  There's often something uniquely focused and real about the morning, not just in the service, but in the hearts of the gathered community.  I pray you will thoroughly enjoy yourself in the midst of them; offering worship, learning together from the Word God has given, being the Church together in gratitude that is real and deep and strong.

And on behalf of those you serve, and in case no one says so, Thank you.

Thank you for all the preparation you do for every sermon you preach.  Like the mess in the kitchen that doesn't get put on the serving plate, so much of what goes on to get it ready is hidden from those who will receive.

Thank you for all the times you've been getting into bed, but have gotten dressed again to go tend to someone in crisis; at the hospital, at a funeral home, in a coffee shop in the middle of the night.

Thank you for fielding all those emails that a community just generates out of sheer necessity of keeping everything running and letting everyone know what's going on.  But also for those emails that sting, or press you into corners, or release that adrenaline and cortisol.  And for all you do to stay humble and gentle as you respond.

Thank you for receiving so graciously all the 'feedback' about your sermons, particularly in those sensitive moments just after the service.  And for really listening, and not becoming defensive, and allowing even those most cutting of criticisms to press you into better things.

Thank you for engaging in the struggle for Biblical competency, and for living in the tension of a responsible hermeneutic in a post-Christian culture.  Thank you for wrestling with that 'second tier' of theology where doctrine and real life collide because....people.  And thanks especially for staying true to your own Biblical conscience in the face of being told, by some, that you don't love the Bible.

Thank you for taking out the garbage and spreading salt on that icy spot in the parking lot, and doing up someone's forgotten dishes, and unplugging the toilet, and staying late after that long day of meetings because the door won't lock and you're waiting for the locksmith to arrive.

Thank you for leading all the meetings; for making up the agendas, and fielding all the group dynamics and following up with all the assignments, and probably being the one who has to keep all the files in order.

Thank you for not giving trite answers to profoundly anguished questions, and for sitting in silence instead, and for weeping with those who weep.  Thank you for sometimes NOT being that 'unaffected presence' and allowing the pain of those you love to become your own pain, and in so doing being the hands and feet and tears of Jesus for them.

Thank you for living on probably half the salary you could be earning if you went out into the workplace with your skill set.

Thank you for courageously turning the light of scrutiny inward, asking the Spirit to check all the hidden spaces, so that you can love and lead authentically.  And for risking so much when you allow another brother or sister to hold you accountable; for living 'inside out'.

And there is so much more we could thank you for.

God knows.

"God is not unjust; he will not forget your work 

and the love you have shown him 

as you have helped his people 

and continue to help them."  

Hebrews 6:10

One Pastor's Perspective - A Month of Appreciation

October is apparently 'Clergy Appreciation Month'.

I don't know who invents these things, but I want to take advantage of it in a particular way this year.  I would like to use my personal Blog and Facebook space to celebrate, encourage and support pastors of local churches in a concentrated way over the entire month.

But I should make something clear here, right at the beginning.  I no longer serve as a pastor of a local church.  So perhaps I now speak from an 'outside' perspective.  At least as far as an official capacity goes.  Then again, inside of me there is still a pastor.  I think that was true long before anyone called me pastor, and will likely be true no matter what else I might be called in the future.    So my perspective will be anything but objective.

To be honest, I hope to leverage my subjectivity and personal connection to this vocation in such a way that might bring awareness to various issues, ponderings and challenges that are specific to pastoral ministry.

If you're a pastor, my hope is that throughout the month you might be given something truly important, badly needed, or simply helpful for the task at hand.  Maybe this venture of mine will be part of that.  I hope so, but I hope greater things for you.  I hope your people will take the time to thank you for the way you love and serve them.  They can't possibly truly understand all that you do.  But they can let you know how much you mean to them.  I hope they do.  But even more importantly, I hope that whatever is before you in these next four weeks, you might be all the more aware of God's presence and power.

If you're led and taught and loved by a pastor, my hope is that throughout the month you might gain insights into what it's like to lead and teach and love you.  Your pastors study hard and pay attention to their congregations, sacrificing much, so that they can know you and serve you better. It seems only fitting, especially during Clergy Appreciation Month, that we say thank you.

If you've been abused or harmed by a pastor, my heart breaks.  I know this reality in ways that are personally wretched.  And I am so very sorry that someone whom you should have been able to trust broke that trust so profanely.  And this is also true; that's not all of us.  And pastors who are serving in love and faithfulness need to be cheered on so they can keep doing so.

So every day throughout October I will post something, either here or on Facebook only, that in some way acknowledges these spiritual leaders among us.  Scriptures, quotes, book recommendations, stories, ideas about ways to love your pastors, ideas about ways to pastor your people, my own heart ponderings from this new perspective I've been given.  Anything that will bring energy and life and hope to those who labour so beautifully in this mystical thing called a community of faith.



  

Closing the Cottage

 

The water welcomes me

And the rock and the sky

And the stairs going up to our deck.

Welcome home, this sacred space says to me

And it’s good to be home for these few days

To end a long season of welcome

And wholeness

And healing

Needed so much the quiet medicine

This particular season

So much

Then the mornings were early-bright

And warm

And kayak therapy did magic

Sunsets too

And fast rides in the other boat

And trips into Midland

And grandkids

Hummingbirds

Chipmunks

Church on the Rock

Scrabble

Reading and reading and reading

On the deck

All of it

Now the breeze comes cooler

It’s dark in the morning and early after supper

The fireplace is our warming friend

And soup is good for lunch

But the water

And the rock

And the sky

And the quiet

Still heal

Even in a melancholy goodbye

For now

When A Workaholic Works from Home - Five Tips for Separating Work from Everything Else

It's really only been a few weeks so far.  My work-from-home routines are barely coming into focus.  So, just to put it out there, what I'm about to say represents my first reflections on a subject I've had a particular concern about, but not a whole lot of personal experience thus far.

The concern is this:

How do workaholics work from home?

Well, no, that's not the question really.  Because workaholics work from anywhere, all the time.  Physical space is makes no difference.  The answer to that question is probably, 'They just work.'

So I guess the better question is this.

How do workaholics who work from home separate work from everything else?

As a (mostly managed) workaholic most of my life, I found having an office elsewhere helpful.  But now this is not the case.  Now my concentrated computer work, my study and teaching preparation, my planning and praying and reflection, all still very much components of my work these days, happens from my house.  Even meetings, reduced as they are now, happen at my house.  My house, my home.  The same place where I rest, sleep, watch movies, partner with my husband, take out the garbage, decorate for Christmas, entertain my grandchildren, have people over.....do life.

So how to keep things separate?  How to keep work work and life life and play play, etc. etc.

Here's what I am finding helpful so far.

1.  Have A Separate Space

This is important to me for more reasons than just keeping work and life separated.  A personally-crafted work space has always been my productivity-inclined goal as manifest in comfort, concentration, inspiration and a sense of the sacred.  So when it came time to move my office home, I was able to set aside two corners of a larger room, mark them off visually with furniture placement and wall decor, get all my binders and books where I could have easy access, and then declare 'Here is my new office.'   This may not be an option for everyone, but if you have the room, it really beats having the dining room table or other regular living space be taken over with your work.  I'm not sure about you, but what it looks like visually is how it's probably going to happen inside my brain.

2.  Get Dressed

Sounds simple, and perhaps this isn't a thing for everyone, but it helps me to get up and get dressed as if I was going to work somewhere else, like, more in public.  And it's not for the purpose of encouraging me to work. It's more for the effect of, at the end of the day, changing into 'home clothes' as a signal that the work time is done.  Don't worry.  I'm not clomping around my house in heels all day.  Like I said above, comfort is important for productivity for me.  But there's still a distinction between what I'm wearing when I'm working and what I'll put on to relax.

3.  Beginning and Ending Rituals

Similar to getting dressed, I have found the practice of start-of-day rituals and end-of-day rituals to be another good signal that work is either 'on' or 'off'.  Three rituals I have carried over from the days when my office was elsewhere.  One is to go for my swim first thing in the morning.   Beginning the day with exercise helps get the oxygen going and prepare my mind for my work.  So this I still do.  The second is the lighting of the vanilla candle.  Anyone who ever visited me in my previous office knows that there's an aromatherapy affect for me, and in particular with a vanilla candle.  And the third is a Scripture meditation/transcription thing I do every morning, just to keep my head into the original languages of the Bible and keep me learning Thai, AND because the kind of work I do is a farce without a slow, meticulous consideration of what I regard as my Source.   There's one new ritual I have incorporated into this work-from-home deal; the raising and lowering of the blinds at the far end of the room where I work, at the beginning and end of the day respectively.  Not only does this bring in a little more light, but it opens and closes the day in a visual kind of way.  Like I said.  What's happening visually is likely happening inside my brain.

4.  Make the Weekends Different

Not to say that no work can be done in convenient little moments on Saturday and Sunday.  But mostly, mostly, the weekends need to have a different feel for me, or everything bleeds into sameness.  That means, for me, not setting the alarm, not going for a swim, not getting into work clothes.  That means blocking off time for doing things around the house, (helping with that work-from-home hazard of always seeing some housework or home improvement that needs doing as you just head to the bathroom).  That means running errands and longer meal times and favourite weekend foods, or whatever it is that makes the weekend special and different for you.  I have a feeling this is going to be all the more important for me as the winter sets in and being at home - as lovely as it's turning out for me now - might wear a little thin.

5.  Blur the Lines

This is going to sound like I'm contradicting everything I've just written.  But the truth is most workaholics are also perfectionists.  And the irony here, at least I feel it in me, is that by setting up some ideas for keeping work separate, I could get all rigid and stupid about it, which would be just as unhealthy as not having any separation at all.  Because there's actually a lot of freedom and flexibility in working from home.  And one day it might be a perfect mental break to put aside other stuff and just go cut the grass.  Or one day it might be exactly what I need to not set the alarm and start the day a little slow.  Or one day it might be fine to stay in my pjs all day long (only, I hope you don't come by unexpectedly that day because I'll look so lazy and that would be awful!).

Bottom line is, for some of us, I expect most of us who love the vocation to which they are called, there's really no real way to completely separate work from life.  Because work is life and life is work and overlaps are often places of sacred discoveries and profound growth.

That's my list so far.  Anyone working from home with other ideas, I'd love to hear about them.

But I'd better sign off now, because I just blew through lunch since there was no one at my office door reminding me that it was time to eat! 

The Disquieting Openness of Soul

"It is through gratitude for the present moment 

that the spiritual dimension of life opens up."

Eckhart Tolle

Being fully engaged in the moment.

It's a practice I've been seeking to develop for the past several years, but which seems all the more important and vivid in this particular season of my life.

Tolle's quote above adds a fresh dimension of this for me, something that makes perfect sense but I just haven't thought of it in this way before.  It's not just about being 'fully present' in each moment.  It's also about taking advantage of an essential opportunity for gratitude.

This is not as easy as it seems, I am finding.

Anyone can stop and soak gratefully in the moment when we're standing on the beach at sunset, or a humming bird hovers intimately close for several moments, or when we're holding a newborn, or reading to a grandchild, or hiking in the woods, or....any of the 'moments' we all long for in seeking some centering or serenity in our lives.   When there's something concrete to be grateful for.

But what about the other moments?

"Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."  Paul might even come across as being glib in his letter to the Thessalonians (1 Thess. 5:16-18).  Except we know how many moments he was "present in" that were anything but centering and serene.

I haven't got this down.

Sometimes I think I do.

When I've calmed my mind enough to sit on the dock for long periods of time without the need to rush away from the sunset.  Or to wait patiently with a peanut for the next chipmunk to trust me.  Or to simply revel in the cozy joy of a fleece blanket on a coolish night.  I can be very present and very grateful in those moments.

Or even when in my crises experiences, where I can grab hold of an unnatural sense of calm to navigate the storm.  Being fully present in the unknown, embracing the ambiguity of outcomes, choosing not to panic pre-emptively.  Staying steady, even grateful, for each moment of an upheaval.  If I can to that, I say to myself, then I must have mastered this 'present with gratitude in the moment' thing pretty okay.

But what about the other moments; moments of quiet, prolonged disorientation?  What about the times when you're not where you feel you should be on a given day of the week?  Or you've reached for your paper clips in the wrong drawer for the umpteenth time that morning because everything about your work space is still so new?  Or something beautiful and needed is just oh so conspicuous by its absence.  What then?

So I keep practicing.  And in so doing, I find Tolle's words to be so true.

In fact, I would say that my own personal experience is this:  That in those moments of being fully present, even when it means embracing the disquiet of my own soul, that seems to be where I hear God's voice most clearly.  Where spiritual dimensions do indeed open up for me.  Where the sin of my own certainties and arrogance of my own dogmas can be exposed.  Where the hard benefits of a long obedience in the same direction can be enjoyed.  Where I am most raw and real before the One who loves me outrageously anyways.

So here's my list, a sampling only, of what I am oh so grateful for about the right here, right now of my life.

• My grandchildren.
• Forty years of marriage.
• Another family on the other side of the world.
• A community of faith that just keeps being so astonishingly full of grace.
• The places where I belong.
• The generosity that makes what I do now possible.
• Friends who keep me honest.
• Sacred spaces to shelter the more dangerous parts of my journey.
• Food and clothes and a bed and a roof.
• Time to work deep and walk slow.
• A sense of just getting started.
• A strange sort of fasting that drills me down to what's actually important.
• Books!
• Mentors and teachers to press me forward.
• The wonder of being invited to mentor and teach others.
• An experience of God that is honest and humbling and takes my breath away.
• The pain of right now that reminds me of what's true.
• Being able now to see the bigger story God is writing for my life.
• Finally beginning to accept and embrace my human limitations.
• An identity of self that seems just now to be secure in ways that younger years could not allow.
• Realizing there's adventure and purpose ahead.

Yes.  This.

So Many Books, And Now Some Time

“Every time I think I understand what is happening, I am surprised by something new. 

Perhaps one of the hallmarks of an abiding passion

is that it always provokes new thinking and learning.”

Judith Lingenfelter.

Author, missionary and cultural analyst.

I’m home now and the back patio has replaced the cottage deck for my go-to place to read.  Either that or a corner I’ve set up in my home office.  Or when the weather turns cooler, in the family room by the fire.  Or, let’s face it, there’s always a book beside my bed.  Okay, yes.  I guess I’ll read just about anywhere.

Over these past three months of a different way of life there’s been a bit more room for reading.  Good thing because, as I’ve mentioned here before I’m sure, my current course is a Directed Reading and Research credit, which just assumes they’ll be lots of reading.  Two thousand pages, to be precise, and that’s just what’s necessary to collect the data needed for the research paper. 

But never mind.  I’m bookish enough for this to be a delight, especially with all these wonderful places available to me to curl up in and hunker down with a good book.  In fact I’m doing other reading besides what’s required for my course, because, well, a lot of reasons.  They’ve been recommended by a friend.  They were written by a friend.  They’re on tap for a fascinating discussion in this amazing discussion group I’m part of.  They’ve been in my ‘want to read’ pile for I don’t know how long.  The title sounds like it will disturb me in good ways.   I have to justify my book spending somehow.  Lots of reasons. 

And what a rich three months of reading it’s been.

So I thought I’d share some of my favourite quotes, just for some random reflections, and to see if any of it ‘provokes new thinking and learning’ for us together.  Who knows?

_____

On the risks of being influenced by relationships, Parker Palmer suggests,

“Otherness, taken seriously, always invites transformation, 

calling us not only to new acts and theories and values 

but also to new ways of living our lives 

– and that is the most daunting threat of all.”   

(2017)

_____

On the maturing process, Ronald Habermas observes, 

(Stage theorist) Piaget concludes that all people constantly move 

between disequilibrium and equilibrium.  

 Because the latter is so uncomfortable

....most of us are motivated to resolve unsettling conditions 

and to seek equilibrium as soon as possible.   

As painful as disequilibrium is, here’s the important lesson:   

Nobody can grow cognitively without disequilibrium. (emphasis mine)

This one interested me because of the disequilibrium we experience in cross-cultural experiences.  And, come to think of it, the disequilibrium of moving from one life-focus to another. 

_____

On our obsession as evangelicals particularly with getting all our doctrine “right” and that bringing as sense of order and control over our lives, theologian and muck disturber (he’d like that I said that I think) Peter Enns states,

“Then we can see the inevitability to letting go of the need to know and trust God instead 

– as best we can each moment – because God is God.  

 Trust like this is an affront to reason, the control our egos crave.   

Which is precisely the point.  Trust does not work because we have captured 

God in our minds.  It works regardless of the fact that, at the end of the day, 

we finally learn that we can’t.”

This book is disturbing me in all the good ways.  God is too big to figure out, this I have experienced for myself.  I love Enns' humility.  Oh how arrogant we Bible folks can be!

____

Tremper Longman and John Watson like to shake it up a bit too when they point out,

“[T]he Bible is not hesitant to describe historical events hyperbolically 

to produce an effect in the reader in order to make a theological point.”

This one just makes me go "hmmmmmmm."  Looking forward to the discussion on this!

_____

And then, from a book that was waiting for me when I got home with a title that might not suit everyone, Parker Palmer again (who can turn a phrase like few others),

“Above all, I like being old (he’s approaching 80) 

because the view from the brink is striking, a full panorama of my life 

– and a bracing breeze awakens me 

to new ways of understanding my own past, present, and future.”  

 (2018)

I have a feeling I’m going to be glad I'm reading this now, when I’m in my early 60s.  Lots of wisdom to gain from this brilliant and loving soul.

_____

So, like I said, a random sampling and a smattering of thoughts.  Without a doubt it is helping to “provoke new thinking and learning”, even launching me into new and different ways of approaching this next adventure I'm on.

And because this blog post isn't book-nerdy enough already, I’m going to go ahead and include the bibliography.  

Enjoy.

Enns, Peter. The Sin of Certainty: Why God Desires our Trust More Than Our “Correct” Beliefs,

New York: Harper One, 2016.

Habermas, Ronald T.  Introduction to Christian Education and Formation: A Lifelong Plan

            for Christ-Centered Restoration, Grand Rapids:  Zondervan, 2008.

 Lingendfelter, Judith E. & Sherwood  G. Linenfelter, Teaching Cross-Culturally:  An Incarnational 

          Model for Learning and Teaching, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2003.

Longman, Tremper III & John Watson.  The Lost World of the Flood:  Mythology, Theology, and the

                Deluge Debate,  Downers Grove:  InterVarsity Press, 2018.

Palmer, Parker J.  The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner Landscape of a Teacher’s

            Life, 20^th Anniversary Ed.  Sommerset: Jossey-Bass, 2017.

___________ . Palmer, Parker K., On the Brink of Everything:  Grace, Gravity & Getting Old,       

            Oakland: Berrett-Koehler Publishers Inc., 2018.