I've Discovered I Am Divergent...

Each night, now, for the last week and a half, I've been practicing the prayer of examen.  It's been an eye opener for me in many ways regarding what's going on inside my heart.  Definitely, it's doing what it's intended, and reminding me of just how lost I'd be without Jesus.  As a result, gratitude swells even greater as I make my way toward celebration of the crucifixion and resurrection of my Savior.  Over the next remaining days and weeks, I'll share some of the insights the Lord has shown me.  However, before I can invite you to join me on this Lenten Journey, I must share a little background.

I have taken to walking through each aspect of my day, almost as if I'm walking down a timeline of events.  Then, almost without thinking, I grab a hold of one particular situation, and that becomes my focal point. One night, as I was starting this process, the events of the day began whipping by a bit too fast.  Out of the blue, I said to myself (in my head so I wouldn't wake up my already sleeping husband), "Whoa! Slow this train down!"  That's when it dawned on me that each event was like a specific car of a train passing by, and every now and then, I'd grab hold of a certain car and jump on for the ride.  In fact, I'm a bit like a hobo carrying my kerchief knapsack on the end, and once on, I settle down, open up the knapsack, and take out my possessions, making myself at home for the time being.

I've decided some train cars are better left un-boarded.  Some are truly toxic, poisonous to my  mind, and therefore, my soul.  These cars are filled with lies that cause me to wallow in self-pity, or suspicion.  Some make me critical - of myself, of others.  Some feed negativity, worry, doubt.  These cars are more frequented than any other.  One night, while I was particularly in a wallowing funk (you know the place: the one that leads to discouragement, shame, despair…), I heard the still, small voice of the Lord say, "Get off!  This is not a place for you to be tonight.  You have the power to choose a better place to spend your time in a more productive place…"  So, while this is revealing about me, that I tend to always go to those kinds of places, there are other things more worthy of evaluation.  Other train cars that are more productive to my soul and my character than the places I tend to mentally frequent.  I must stay off the cars that carry the hazardous waste…

I have to laugh.  Those of you who have read Veronica Roth's, Divergent series, will get this.  This, once Abnegation gal, has, for the time being, become Dauntless…  Just saying that makes me feel more empowered.  Nope…I still won't get a tattoo...

Tradition! There's Something I Like About Old Ways...

After throwing weekly followers-of-this-blog off this last week with a mid-week post, I sit to write this morning's regular blog.  So, if you were one that didn't catch the out-of-the-regular-routine introduction to my explanation of my additional Lenten practice, you might want to go back a blog and catch yourself up.  If not, here's a summary:  In lieu of Lent, I decided to give up giving up.  In a sense it was a joke to begin with, but after further reflection, and a confirmation from the Lord (via another blog I follow), I took the idea more seriously.  Instead of giving up, I added something intentional each evening.  I added an old, liturgical practice: the prayer of examen.  I've followed that practice regularly each evening as I go to sleep.  Here's a link for a brief explanation: http://www.ignatianspirituality.com/ignatian-prayer/the-examen/how-can-i-pray/

Last night, following a post on FB, a dear friend asked a relevant question.  It's good to think these things through, and I hopped on that mental train for the rest of the evening.  That question became my focal point for my prayer last night.  Here's the question:  Maybe you can help me understand the concept of Lent....If I were to give something up or take something on for a season because it draws me closer to God...wouldn't I want to do that for more than a "season"?

Great question!  Of course, the answer is a resounding "yes."  If I were to give something up, or add something (as I have), I should want to do that for more than a season, especially if it were a practice that drew me closer to the Lord!  After the reflection, I have an answer that suits me, personally.  

First of all, I am not giving up my evangelical leanings and becoming Catholic.  :D  I'm not a proponent of following any liturgy, just for the sake of following liturgy.  I grew up Episcopalian and one of the hindrances (for me) was that the liturgy became so rote, I didn't pay attention to what was being taught. Spirituality got lost in the practices….  This side of the church, I recognize there was some beauty in the prayers we prayed out of the Common Book of Prayer (in fact, sometimes those pre-written, rote prayers, give words to my heart that I can't come up with on my own!).  This side, I see some depth to the liturgy itself.  This side, I appreciate the respect and reverence given to the Lord inside the church.  

However, I like some aspects of tradition.  I like the tradition of seasons that become heart-preparation for a bigger event.  Of course, Christmas should be celebrated all year, and shouldn't just be seasonal.  Yet, I love celebrating Advent!  I love taking the time prior to Christmas day to reflect on Scriptures around the birth of Jesus, looking more in-depth into the "fulness of time" that led to the arrival of one of the greatest gifts we've ever been given.  When I celebrate Advent for the forty days prior to Christmas, I am so overwhelmed by the birth, that Christmas day can't get here fast enough.  Truly it is a heart preparation that makes my celebration that much fuller!  My experience has been that a tunneled focus during Advent, keeps the distractions of the season at bay, and allows me to not get so caught up in the worldliness of shopping and preparations.  When Christmas day arrives, not only is the celebration fuller, it is richer in meaning…

So, this year, I decided to go back to a celebration of Lent.  Though for the life of me, I couldn't think what I would "give up."  That is, until I left my cell phone at home, and spent the time "examining" the practice of giving up.  Then it clicked…Lent is supposed to be a mirror.  We give up, to see more clearly, the lusts of our flesh, the lusts of our eyes, and the pride in our life (1 John 2:16, http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+john+2%3A16&version=NET).  The purpose of Lent, as the purpose of Advent, is to prepare our hearts for Easter. The purpose of Lent is to look inward, to remember "Oh what a wretched man/woman I am!  Who will set me free from the body of this death?  Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord (Romans 7:24-25a)!"  As we examine our hearts, remembering the WHY-I-NEEDED-A-SAVIOR (which sometimes shows up more clearly when we "fast" from something), then Easter is more meaningful, more rich, and the celebration that much more joy-full!  The "Hallelujah-He-Is-RISEN-INDEED" is that much greater!  Lent isn't so much about the giving up, or the self-denial, as it is the examination of our hearts.

Yes, this whole concept should be done regularly.  Yes, I should make this practice of examen a regular nightly practice (and probably will), HOWEVER, there's just something about going back to the old traditions, and remembering the purpose behind them.  It's like coming back to the heart of true worship.  For me, the season becomes that much more special, that much more purposeful, and less distracted by commercialism.  I am falling head-first into tradition, and really liking it!  Especially when the outcome is that much more rewarding…

I Gave Up My Cell Phone for Lent (and it lasted one day)…sort of!

Yesterday I forgot my cell phone.  For a whole 13 hours, I was not a slave to phone calls, text messages, email notifications, social media, games, or downloaded books.  Nothing was calling my name, or demanding my attention.  Consequently, I was fully present in each and every moment.  True confession: it was quite liberating.  I missed nothing but the ability to tell time (and that was easily fixable).

It was the perfect day to be without a cell phone.  It was the first day of Lent, otherwise known as Ash Wednesday.  When I was a kid, we always began the day by going to Lenten services at church.  We were always challenged toward celebrating the season with self-denial, whose purpose it was to examine those things that reigned over our heart more than the Lord.  As we became more aware of our heart-issues, we would be in a better state of celebration when we celebrated the Resurrection of Jesus, and the price he paid for our sinfulness.  Ash Wednesday was the start of forty days without candy (seriously, what else could an eight year old give up, especially back then?), and it was the day I went to school with a cross on my forehead sketched by my Episcopalian priest through the medium of, obviously, ashes (duh!).  The odd thing is that nobody thought that was odd.  The kids in my class were like (imagine a shrug of the shoulders), "Oh…it must be Lent again."  Nobody mocked.  No one called in the ACLU, or a Religious Rights Activist, because we were infringing on their freedom to be of another faith.  Imagine that!  It was just…accepted….

So, I used being without my cell phone yesterday, as a test.  Maybe I'd give up social media for the next forty days?  Maybe I'd give up chocolate….again?  Maybe I'd give up coffee (that was a short-lived thought)?  Oh, yes, and there were those little Lenten boxes, where we gave up some of our allowance to take back to church.  Maybe I could give some of my….oh, yes, I don't get an allowance anymore.  Being without my cell phone was a reminder to reflect on the very thing I would deny myself of and, thereby, examine my heart.  The plan backfired.  I rather liked it.  The end result of the day without my cell phone was that I missed nothing I couldn't rectify in approximately five minutes at the end of the day, when I returned home.  It seemed social media didn't miss me either.

As I lay awake thinking through the Lenten giving-up-concept, it dawned on me that maybe it wasn't so much about giving up, as it was simply the whole purpose of examination.  So, I fell asleep determining that instead of making this a season of self-denial, I would propagate a period of time devoted to proactively positioning myself for promoting the long lost spiritual prayer (wow, that's a lot of "p" words) of "examen."  Re-read that, and don't get lost in the woods of the "p" words.  Basically, I'm convicted of being proactive about engaging in the prayer of "examen."  What might that be?  Historically (thank you, St. Ignatius), the prayer of examen is a time of reflection at the end of the day, whereby we look back with gratitude on the day, filter through the events (including the emotions, the responses to the events, and our behaviors), pray through at least one event & its outcomes, then fall asleep looking forward to and surrendering our tomorrow to the Lord.  It's a simple process, but one in which we are able to take an honest look at our spiritual responses of the day and make a critical (in a positive way) study of them.  It's nothing more than an "examination of me."  However, it adds an important element of gratitude.

So, I'm giving up giving up for Lent.  I'm giving up self-denial.  Instead, I'm adding something.  I'm adding a new spiritual exercise.  An exercise that is foreign to me.  I'm offering the Lord, at the end of every day over the next forty days, my own attempt at personal introspection of each day, with gratitude, and a look forward to tomorrow.

Wow!  Maybe I should leave my cell phone home more often…

Lessons from Cuba 3

For me, the most difficult part about writing is the first sentence, even the entire introduction.  I've wrestled for days with a way to say what I hope to say without coming across judgmental.  That's certainly not my intention.  So, I'll jump in with both feet, and hope this ends better than I'm starting.

We were blessed with seven laptops, multiple cell phones, and several digital cameras, which we were able to take into Cuba with us.  These things are hard to get in-country, and when you can find them, the cost makes them prohibitive.  At the same time, each of these items were donated to FOCUS because they were "outdated," "old," functioning "slowly," or in need of some repair.  In other words, they were discards, not quite good enough anymore.  Our nephew, Paul, went along with us.  Paul knows the ins and outs of computers as if he'd been born experimenting with one in the womb.  I'll brag on him a second - he is amazing!  Paul worked magic on those computers.  He cleaned off the hard drives. He vaccinated away speed-sucking viruses.  He added new software - all in Spanish; and, on every computer, he purchased and provided a high-end Bible program, knowing it was our desire to bless a Cuban pastor.  These were still old, outdated, discards, but Paul redeemed the value of them in a BIG WAY!

I just wish you could have been a bug on the wall as we handed these gifts to the pastors and their wives.  Our dear friend, and contact in Cuba, had prayed long and hard as to who these blessings should go to before we arrived.  One by one, he would call the pastors into a side room during one of the conferences, and allow us to gift the computers, the phones, and the cameras.  The word that comes to mind is heartwarming, but the word doesn't do those scenes justice.  These men would break and cry as they would hug their "new" computer to the chests.  Their wives would also silently weep, and one squealed, "Oh! A digital camera! I have prayed for years for a digital camera!"  One pastor could hardly get out his words, "Thank you! This will change my ministry!" By the end of the week, we still had one computer left to give.  Following a full day of speaking in conferences, a full night of evangelism, then praying over a woman with stomach cancer, and a child who had fallen recently and was left with a traumatic brain injury, we all loaded up in the van, and headed to the local bus station.  There standing on the corner was a pastor from Havana.  This young pastor had traveled 14 hours by bus just to receive his computer.  We explained that God had blessed us and we wanted to bless him.  I looked at the computer he was getting.  It was the oldest of the computers, which means it was the slowest of all the computers.  Here in the US, no one uses Windows 95 anymore.  Here, it wouldn't sell for any amount of money, probably ending up in the trash behind some Goodwill store.  Fourteen hours he had come by bus to receive this computer, and he stood there and wept.  He tried to thank us.  I found myself embarrassed and humbled.  We had done so little…but not in his eyes.  That piece of junk meant the world to him!  After taking his gift, he once more embarked on a 14-hour return trip.

Nothing is wasted in Cuba.  Everything is refurbished, remade, recreated, and the resourcefulness of the people is inspiring.  In the center square of downtown Cuba is a one-room business that is filled with old sewing machines.  In that space, women re-create old clothes into new clothes, and sell them.  Cars that shouldn't still be on the streets, still run, probably with engines held together by rubber bands.  Resourceful.  Good stewards.  Making the most of everything they have.  Not embarrassed by old, worn out, discarded.  When life is hard, and "stuff" is expensive, resourcefulness is necessary.  I look at what we've had over the years, and given away, sold, or tossed simply because we were upgrading.  I'm not advocating poverty.  I'm not trying to send anyone, especially myself, on a guilt trip for having new, or nice things.  I left Cuba simply thinking I want to think twice before I replace. I want to learn to be a better steward of "stuff."  I want to honor the Lord with my resourcefulness and creativity when it comes to old, or worn…  I fear that deep inside me is this rich-woman-mentality in a middle class life.  The two don't fit, can't mix.  So, I want to take away and learn a lesson from my Cuban brothers and sisters on how-to make the most of all I'm blessed to have…but most of all, how to appreciate and be thankful for EVERYTHING!

…I have a stewardship entrusted to me (1 Cor. 9:17, the Apostle Paul).

…in everything give thanks (1 Thess 5:17).

Lessons from Cuba 2

It was a Wednesday night at church.  Services are held, the pastor told us, twice on Sunday morning, once on Sunday night, Tuesday night, Wednesday night, Thursday night and Friday night.  His “congregation,” he thinks, numbers somewhere around 500.  Most of his congregation comes from within the neighborhood, because they have to walk to church.  There is no parking lot.  The church “hopes” to build a new facility just up the street.  The pastor wanted to show us the property after worship, and have us pray over the land with him.

The pastor’s current church facility is a one room building designed to hold about 75 people max.  This Wednesday night must have been pack-a-pew night.  However, it was unlike any pack-a-pew night I’d ever witnessed.  It was definitely more like pack-a-pew night-on-steroids.  For certain, it would have been a US fire marshal’s nightmare.  People just kept coming, and coming, and squishing onto the hard benches they call pews, and standing alongside the walls. When I thought they couldn’t get any more people in, they filled the center aisle – and stood through the whole service (I know we ended with over 200 people...). We were the honored guests; we got the front row – right in front of the fan.  Ah!!!! It had to have been in the high 80’s with about 90% humidity.  Oh, and I almost forgot to mention the smell, and I don’t mean the smell of perspiration, which in itself presented a problem. I mean the sewer smell.  Wafting in through the open windows (keep in mind, there’s no glass on any of the windows) came the odor of raw human waste so strong it could gag a person. 

But…I’ve never experienced worship quite like this night.  There were no projectors.  No power point presentations.  No words to the songs on screens above. No YouTube videos to engage the audience.  No skits, no stage sets, no greeters with programs, no child care classes.  Ah, but there was a guitar player, a drummer, and a few vocalists with microphones. They led. Everyone followed…everyone sang…everyone clapped…everyone cheered…”amens” and “hallelujahs” were frequent.  Even among the littlest.  There were announcements.  There were long passages of Scriptures shared.  There were prayer requests and prayer.  More singing.  The pastor got up and shared (Was it a message before the message? Could have been.  It was in Spanish, so I don’t know).  More singing.  Then Bay was introduced.  He spoke, using a translator, which doubles the amount of speaking time.  Still people remained squished.  They smiled.  They shouted.  They clapped and cheered when he said something they liked.  They engaged with their entire beings.  Many found Jesus that night, and there was more celebration! Then, it dawned on me…church in Cuba is not something to do; it is not a place to go; it is an EVENT!  It’s not about the individual getting something; it’s about the individual participating and giving something.

This thought was solidified after the service.  I overheard one of our team members saying to one of the worshippers in attendance (through a translator), “I love your worship!  There is so much energy in your church!  Are you always so enthusiastic?”  I locked eyes with the gentleman, and tears began to pour down his face.  He thumped his chest, turned to our teammate, and sincerely replied, “It is all we have to give!” 

It is all they have to give.  Yet, honestly, it is more than I’ve ever seen given in a comfortable, sweetly smelling, American worship center.  It is all they have to give.  It is all Jesus wants us to give.  I want to give so generously!  I want to give from my all…  I want worship to become not just a place to go, not even an event, but THE EVENT of my week - the highlight!  I want to be asked about my personal worship, and with all my heart, be able to say, "I give out of my all..." That would be the kind of worship Jesus talked about with the Samaritan woman - worship that is in spirit and truth (John 4:23-24).

****

A sample of worship:  https://vimeo.com/87470800

Lessons from Cuba 1.5

One of the reminders for me, while in Cuba, of which I really needed an elbow-nudging from the Lord, related to my passion for teaching.  As I mentioned last week, it meant a lot to hear women (and women from a whole different culture) speak such encouraging words. As a result, I was reminded how much I love to teach.  Sometimes, that love gets lost in the day-to-day of chores and research, and, sometimes, I wonder if I really do love it, or if there is another motivation for standing behind a microphone.  I am quite aware of my limitations, the inabilities I possess.  I don’t speak to large crowds, and I wouldn’t want to!  I appreciate looking into the eyes of the women I stand in front of and connecting with their hearts.  I am not a dynamic speaker, and would never claim to be; I am just a story-sharer: a truth-teller.  The same goes with the way I write.  I just speak, or put-on-paper, what I know has been true for me.  If it works for someone else, hallelujah!  Yet, over the past weeks, I have whispered a prayer in my heart, so quiet, I’ve not been sure it is even worthy of being labeled a prayer.  It’s probably been so soft, because I haven’t been certain I wanted to know the answer.  Buried deep inside the prayer-whisper has been a core of insecurity padded by the question of my purpose-on-earth, my kingdom-purpose.  Not in a morbid way, but simply in a “what-am-I-doing-now” sort of way.  Ah, “but, God!”  One of the richest blessings of life, as sweet as any chocolate-truffle (and truffles are definitely my favorite!), is when God answers a whisper-prayer, even if it has never crossed my lips.  Not only did he answer it; but, also, he knew it would be asked, and he answered it, more than 2000 years ago!  This morning I sit in awe!  What a Papa!

Really, the whisper-prayer could boil down to two questions: 1) Lord, am I still your vessel, your mouthpiece?  Do you still want to use me to teach other women?  2) Am I still to use my fingers to type up a written message?  Is a blog useful to you?  Is my motivation sincere?  These are important questions for me.  As I mentioned, they sit at the insecure core of my heart.  Years ago, I was challenged by another speaker-friend to consider my mission statement.  His words were to write out what I thought was my calling in one sentence.  His challenge was to make that sentence precise enough it could be written on a matchbook cover.  I took the challenge.  In my contemplation, I took into account what I loved to do, what my spiritual gifts were, a “dream” God seemed to have planted in my heart, Scripture verses that had come alive and seemed to be “mine” to own.  As I filtered through all of that, I had written my mission statement: to disciple women through the written or spoken word. That’s what I’ve been doing ever since.  It makes it easier to say “NO” to those things that don’t fit, where I would just be expending energy, but not being effective for the Kingdom.  So, my unspoken question of the heart was critical – how it would be answered could change EVERYTHING.

Then Cuba.  Yes, the Lord reminded me how much it thrills my soul to share what He is teaching me (even if I don't have the lessons down perfectly).  He, also, reminded me it’s not about the audience size, or even what the audience thinks, but am I doing what I am passionate about?  It doesn’t matter whether I think I’m being effective or not, but he had, also, assured me through those precious ladies that he will not let his word EVER return void.  Then this morning, out of the blue, I read an obscure verse, in the middle of Matthew, that became mine-to-own, a verse written over 2000 years ago!  After speaking to his disciples in parables, Jesus asked them if they understood what he was teaching.  “Yes!” they had replied.  Then he said this (I am writing it the way I “heard” it, but it doesn’t change the integrity of the Word):

                                                       

Therefore, every writer who has become a disciple, a student who enrolls himself under a teacher with the purpose of instructing others, is like a head of a household, who brings forth out of his treasure things old and new to be used to multiply the kingdom.  

Matthew 13:52.

Do you see it?  I love to write. I am a disciple of a masterful teacher (Jesus).  I love to teach.  I have been given a treasure (the Word of God).  Jesus’ “therefore” is for me!  One-on-one; one-on-seventy; one-on-seven hundred, it does not matter!  I have been called as a “head of a household” of faith.  Not to teach irrelevant babble (2 Tim 2:23) that leads to further ungodliness; but to handle the Word correctly; to be a vessel of honor, sanctified and, yes, useful to the Master (2 Timothy 2:20-21).  In my own little way, I am still called-out for the same purpose…and my only responsibility is to be obedient and faithful in persevering. 

Questions for you who might be reading:  What’s your calling? Are you still living in it in spite of whether or not it feels like you are being a useful vessel?  God needs hands, feet, voices, eyes, ears, and hearts in a multitude of ways.  Once he issues the call, it appears it stays much the same to the end, perhaps with just a tweaking or two.  May you be encouraged, from one “wonderer” to another, just to keep living out your mission, in spite of the whisper-questions of your heart!

Lessons From Cuba 1

I interrupt the study I've been doing on "the words of my mouth," in order to share a few lessons learned from my Cuban brothers and sisters. This past week, we had the privilege of taking a team of seven into Cuba on religious visas to lead a pastor's conference (wives and other church leaders included), hold evangelistic services at night (yes, you read that right), and encourage our faithful believing siblings in Hope and a Good Word.  We went to be teachers...evangelists...leaders. We became the taught, the reminded, and the led. In all the years I've been privileged to be a missionary, I find this to be the case.  I need these humbling, gentle nudges from The Lord.

What I want to share is both a blessing for me, as a speaker, but most definitely, a conviction at the same time. First day, of the first of three women's conferences, a gal I recognizedf rom last year came up to me. Even though my translator was very close, it was obvious this gal had spent some time practicing her English, as she said to me, "My favorite teacher. I am your disciple."  What a great gift she passed to me that moment! My heart swelled in emotion...  Yet that wasn't all.  She went on, in Spanish, using the translator, close at hand. As she continued, she held out a notebook, which I recognized as the one we had given out the previous year. Her words: "Look! Your notes from last year. All of them. I have been teaching them to the women in all our churches." Her writing was immaculate, but the ink was beginning to fade, and the paper so worn. There was no question that she had spent multiple hours in those notes.

However, she wasn't the only one to share that story. Those words were repeated in different ways from multiple women, in multiple venues. It humbled me. Not only was I acutely aware of the responsibility I have to speak truth, but so aware of how much value is placed on the Word. I am asked overand over for copies of my notes, though I rarely speak from notes (a basic outline, yes).  As I listened to these gals assuring me that the words from The Word I had spoken to them were incredibly helpful to them, and they were still passing them on, it made me ask myself some questions:

How much do I truly value the Word?
How often do I take the teachings I am so privileged to receive in abundance, and pass those on to others?
How eagerly do I come to church, or conferences, ready to hear from The Lord?
How often do I let a critical spirit stand between Truth-spoken and Truth-received, because someone doesn't speak in a style I relate to...or enjoy...?

Yet, I don't even speak the language of these women!  It takes twice as long to say what I have come to say! I don't understand their culture well, and they don't know mine...  But their hunger for the Word and the God-of-the-Word, superseded all of those things. How challenged I was by their delight in truth.  How they have spurred me on to appreciate and to pray for a deeper longing for God's Word.  For days now, this verse has been swimming through my head:

Your words were found, and I ate them, and your words became to me a joy, and the delight of my heart, for I am called by your name, oh Lord, God of hosts.

Jeremiah 15:16

Oh may this be true for me!!!