Preparation in Prayer

In the Christian tradition, the weeks (approximately 40 days, but that's another discussion) between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday are known as the Season of Lent. It is a time particularly devoted to prayer, confession, self-denial and service, a time to prepare our souls for intense and personal remembrance of Jesus' death and resurrection.

While speaking recently with Jason M, he shared some from his journey through Lent. With his permission, I'd like to share it also with you:

Before Nehemiah rebuilt Jerusalem, he prayed, and his was a prayer of repentance. During this Lent season, let this passage fill you, for God is at work in Salt Lake City, and he is building His church. However, we should approach this in humbleness and not in pride, and what better way to humble ourselves than to repent and expose our authentic hearts to His awesome presence like Nehemiah did:

"Then I said: 'O Lord, God of heaven, the great and awesome God, who keeps his commandment of love with those who love him and obey his commands, let your ear be attentive and your eyes open to hear the prayer your servant is praying before you day and night for your servants, the people of Israel. I confess the sins we Israelites, including myself and my Father's house, have committed against you. We have acted very wickedly toward you. We have not obeyed the commands, decrees and laws you gave your servant Moses.
Remember the instruction you gave your servant Moses, saying "If you are unfaithful, I will scatter you among the nations, but if you return to me and obey my commands, then even if you exiled people are at the farthest horizon, I will gather them from there and bring them to a place I have chosen as a dwelling for my Name."
They are your servants and your people, whom you redeemed by your great strength and your mighty hand. O Lord, let your ear be attentive to the prayer of this your servant and to the prayer of your servants who delight in revering your name. Give your servant success today by granting him favor in the presence of this man.'
I was cupbearer to the king."

-- Nehemiah 1:5-11

How are you preparing your soul?

Mighty Warrior

"The Lord is with you, mighty warrior."

These words were on my mind as I entered the hospital to visit a friend today. He does not look like our culture's perception of mightiness; he is quite weak, and cannot currently speak. Even a task like raising his arms is often too much. But God is with him, and I saw a mighty warrior.

"The Lord is with you, mighty warrior." Judges 6 introduces a man named Gideon as he threshes wheat in a winepress due to the country being pretty much overrun by their enemies. Gideon was hiding fearfully; he didn't look much like the mighty warrior he was called to be by the angel of the Lord. But "mighty warrior" was not about physical strength or courageous feelings; it spoke of a much deeper, soul-level identity. God saw what we could not.

My friend today communicated with me the best he could. These are very difficult times, but his trust in God gives him courage and strength. A battle is being fought there, and I am so grateful to know that the Lord is with this mighty warrior every step of the way.

Pennies

I had a plastic penny bank when I was a kid. It was perhaps ten inches tall, shaped like a little girl, very durable. That is where my penny collection started. It was just for pennies; other coins were kept somewhere more useful, more accessible. I didn't keep other coins long-term.

The penny bank was full before I entered junior high. The stash was eventually transferred into a bigger plastic bank shaped like a Coca-Cola bottle, and more recently into a sturdy bucket which started as a container for dog biscuits. I've had some of these pennies for thirty years.

Consider a penny - a small, lightweight little thing. Hardly noticeable at all. But they add up.

My penny collection is measured now in weight, not pieces. It has reached thirty-eight pounds. Lifting the bucket carries potential for injury if done incorrectly. It causes some painful toe stubbage, too, when I'm not careful.

My bucket of pennies is a lot like bitterness.

A lot of slights are really rather small - a sarcastic comment, an unreturned call, an off-hand remark, a dismissive look. But, like my pennies, so many of these low-value items gather and become baggage that gets in the way of life, often causing pain to us and to others.

But we can shift the metaphor, too, and my bucket of pennies is also like gratitude.

Most gifts are small, like pennies - a friendly smile on a difficult day, a door held open for you as you carry a cumbersome package, a note in the mail, an older friend reading with your child. My bucket of little pennies is worth around $63. Like so many pennies, we can collect little gifts of gratitude and see their value together.

What are you collecting, and what are you choosing to let go?

The Space in Between, Part VII

I drove to Cascade today, coming from the west rather than parts south or east. The road was unfamiliar. I had been on it only once, as a passenger, and on that day it was simply a means to an end.

But not today. Today it was beautiful. Today I took the time to admire it as I drove. Today I stopped several times along the way to savor it -- the still mirror of water, the intensely clean aroma of the mountain forest in winter, the noisy silence.


The "journeys" of life are like these spaces in between. There are stormy times when the best option may be to simply press on, trying to get through without stopping for more difficulty than necessary. But much of life is the in-between spaces of routine: family interactions, mealtimes, commuting, work, laundry, home repair, and stuff like that. And, like the road I was on today, there is often great beauty just waiting to be discovered by those who are paying attention.

The Space in Between, Part VI

Sunday mornings can feel a little too busy sometimes. I usually walk the building before and after worship services, talking with people in the hallways, kitchen, classrooms, sanctuary, and just about everywhere else. And I do love the activity, catching up a bit on the lives of people I love. I love gathering every week with "spiritual family" to worship and share our stories together. But it's pretty easy to get caught up in the activity and lose focus.

I worshiped yesterday with another Nazarene congregation on our District. At their church, they do announcements and other such things at the beginning of the service. It was an unfamiliar place, filled with people I didn't know, and I had just come from a Sunday School class. As much as I wanted to be fully present, it was hard to do with all that activity. But then... the pastor invited us into silence.

For several moments we sat quietly. I recognized in that time the rushed-ness of my own spirit, and (mostly) released it. It was almost like an airlock experience, depressurizing my soul so I could more truly acknowledge and respond to God.

Silence and solitudes are spiritual disciplines, meant to be incorporated into the rhythms of everyday life. There is abundant life in those in-between spaces.

The Space in Between, Part V

There is a lot of space between Salt Lake City and Baker City, Oregon. We've seen a decent amount of it so far on the SDMI teaching tour, and have a bit yet to go. It's a long time to sit, the terrain isn't particularly appealing, and some of the weather was a little questionable, but I've really enjoyed traveling those vast spaces in between training events because we travel together and, as we travel, we talk. We talk about what it means to follow Jesus together, about how to do that effectively, about the God we trust. We tell stories to catch up on each others' lives, explore and acknowledge our struggles, laugh together, pray together. We learn what other churches are doing, what is working for them, what is not. I am loving the journey.

People Together

I enjoy the Dilbert comic strip, and read it regularly. A few months ago, I stumbled upon animations of the strip. I was disappointed that the characters do not sound like themselves. This, of course, brings up an obvious question: How could I know what they sound like? It seems that my imagination has taken hold.

This week's convention featured an excellent selection of speakers in both general session and workshop formats. Many of them are authors; I've read the books of several. It seemed to me that some of them didn't really sound like themselves. But that doesn't even make sense. Again I find that my imagination has filled in the blanks. Print media presents a message which, though it may reflect some of the author's personality somewhat, is really quite independent of that individual.

General sessions were interesting. The speakers were well-known pastors and/or authors. The thousands of attendees all came together in an enormous room. In that situation, it makes some sense to project real-time onto screens so even those far from the stage could see facial expressions and so forth, but the whole environment -- with special lighting, fog machines, several cameras, and sometimes ten-foot tall projections of speakers' faces -- seemed to create a sense of other-ness. It seemed to remove some of the human element.

It was good to see and hear some of the authors in the more natural environment of workshops, to recognize them as flesh-and-blood human beings with genuine souls and the experiences of everyday life. While not a strongly interactive situation, the smaller group size, absence of special effects, closer proximity, and Q&A opportunities seemed to provide a sort of grounding. We could see each other more as people.

We are created for relationship, to connect as people shaping and being shaped by our interactions with each other. These past several days have been wonderful. But I find myself looking forward even more to returning to the community of people who exist -- and with whom I can exist -- simply as human beings without all the hoopla.

The Space in Between, Part IV

This looks like another picture of an airplane wing, but it's not. It's a picture of a mountain. Mount Shasta, I think, though I'm not quite sure. Let's assume for today that I'm right.

According to Wikipedia, a Boeing-737 has a wingspan of just under 95 feet and is 36.5 feet tall. That's why the pit crew people who so quickly scurry around it look pretty small. Not like tiny little ants, but even big guys who can hoist the luggage with the neon "HEAVY" tags are dwarfed when the plane drives up. At any rate, a plane looks pretty big, compared to us.

And Mount Shasta? At 14,179 feet (also from Wikipedia), it is the second-highest peak in the Cascade range. In other terms, it is nearly four hundred airplanes tall.

Yet this photo of a huge and majestic mountain looks like just another picture of an airplane wing because I was sitting on an airplane, far above and to the side. Too often I see life like this, with skewed perspective. There is quite a diversity of application here. I've been listening to folks talking about the potential benefits and worthwhile cautions of technology in biblical community, though, so that's what I'm thinking about right now...

Even as technology-based communication (Facebook, Twitter, texting, etc.) provides ways of exchanging information with others, I'm pretty sure the distance distorts a lot of the message and often creates relational distance in the process. And we don't usually recognize the distance because it all looks pretty clear from where we sit. So much of what we receive is disembodied parts, presenting a picture which does not adequately represent the whole, particularly when separated from genuine, consistent everyday-type relationship.

My deep and growing desire is for deep, authentic relationships with others. I'm still thinking about what all of this means.