Saying goodbye to my friend

I will miss Carolyn. She has moved away. I met her in housechurch. Through a series of unfortunate events, she left house church and so did I. In the midst of it all; we became close. We tread very familiar ground and we can speak of hard things without diminishing one another’s spirits. It has always been easy to be in her presence.

The people that have chosen to remain in my inner circle do so at great risk because of my frailties and thorns. She has been a true friend, tolerant of my manic; soapbox outbursts, abysmal listening skills, and reclusive lapses. I have learned so much from her, about unconditional love, perseverance, gentle speech, trust , mercy and honesty.

I know in my heart that her leaving is an important call from the Lord. I don’t know what it is God has for her and her family, but I know He will be good in all He does and will be her treasure alone.

Inspired

I watched Anne Lamott on C-SPAN’s Mid-West Writing Festival last night. She wrote Traveling Mercies, a book about her journey to God. It is one of the most beautifully honest and real descriptions of the spiritual life on life’s terms I have ever read. She is not your garden variety believer. To many mainstream evangelicals, she would be …….oh let’s see…..Out…… basically. She is a left wing activist…swears like a sailor and scandal of all scandals, often refers to God using feminine pronouns. But as you hear her speak, or read her books……you just know Jesus is all over her life. She is pushing 50, wacky, hippyish, tangential, extremely broken and profound at explaining the ineffable things of life through her writing.
I am reading her book, Bird by Bird about writing and it is hysterically funny. Her life screams authentic.

I was so inspired watching her talk about her Christianity, writing and life. She helped me momentarily be glad I was getting older and more gelatinous, that tangential-ness can almost look charming, that brokenness of mind could be a useful tool in writing and that God is the victor in the lives of the unlikely.

While I watched her, I had a fan crazed moment, I kind of mentally turned to Jesus as he lay there couch-potatoing next to me and said, “I’d love to have lunch with her some day.” He nodded in that, could- happen kinda gesture as he picked something out of his teeth with a toothpick.
I am considering taking her advice on writing:

1. Carry a pen and index card with you every where you go because you will never remember that thought you had standing in the grocery line again.
2. Write something everyday no matter how bad it is.
3. Don’t write for the purpose to succeed.

Read her books if you ever get a chance

A dream

This is a dream my sister shared with me a long time ago. I have been thinking about it lately. I am going to narrate the dream as if it were a scene from a movie to help me tell it better.

SCENE:
The camera pans through a crowded city of people numbly going about their business. In the midst of this city, there is a room. It is transparent, made, perhaps, of glass. From time to time, individuals compelled by something in the room, wander to it and momentarily stop doing what they are occupied with to distantly gaze at the scene inside. A monotone, emotionless voice can be heard saying, “Yes, there is the Lamb, slain from the foundation of the world,” as it comes from an observer pressed against the glass. After the hollow acknowledgement, the individual returns to the activity of the city.

The camera now focuses on the space left by the observer. It closes in on a very old man within. As he hovers over a sacrifice on a massive stone altar, his tears fall on the body lying there. The ancient man’s sobs are anguished and mournful as he cries out to the crowds beyond his glass box……

“This is my child....... who will love my Son. Who will love my Jesus, slain from the foundation of the world?

Please....... love my Lamb.”

His grief is overwhelming……..the separation profound.


Today, I am thinking about how the veil was torn from top to bottom when Jesus breathed his last breath as the ultimate sacrifice. I was thinking about how the Holy of Holies which lies behind that curtain is passionately desired by His Father for us all. The experience is Jesus himself, overwhelming, breathtaking, intimate and raw………not his blessings or riches or perfect marriages, good kids, or successful ministry or personal fulfillment, but Himself alone.
But somehow, the veil has been replaced by another barrier, a barrier of knowledge, doctrinal correctness, attainment of godly things, worship of church, trying to make life work…..and the box gets bigger.



May I break the glass created by myself and others to keep God in a safe, reasonable place in order to keep my eye on Him as I go about my business. This is risky; I may be wounded in the process. Will I ever break through and fully comprehend the love of the Father for His child, the depths of what it really cost Him.

Somehow I intuit that the secret to a life of glorifying the Father lies in the simple act of cherishing, meditating on His offering and testimony about His Son. To enter into the scene only for the sake of being in His presence, to weep with Him……the Ancient One, and tell Him I love Him, I love His Son, His Baby, who was slain from the foundation of the world.


1 John 5:1:
Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ is born of God, and everyone who loves the father loves his child as well.

Slice of life

I am sitting here and surfing blogs and Bronwyn is cruising around the flood positioned funiture on her razor scooter and Gregg says,"Hey,did ya know Joe is directing the Christmas show?" "Maybe I'll audition".. .....I'll play a workaholic."

"No," says Bronwyn, " You should be the psycho Chritmas elf," as she scooters by.

A Grand Conversion

I finished reading my husband’s blog. I spotted a spelling error that struck me. I believe he intended to spell the word ‘conversation’ not conversion, when he said he had a “grand conversion with Bronwyn.” I think that the right word is there and should not be corrected.

It is in these things that I find Jesus and His sparrow moments. I think the beauty of Jesus was serendipitously articulated in that spelling error. Gregg really was undergoing a “Grand Conversion” with his six year old. Any time one can be pulled away from the lies of linearity, our own ability to right all things, the have- to’s and the urgent things, one is experiencing the breaking in of the Kingdom and is being converted towards Jesus. Our conversions are often catalyzed by the most unlikely vessels.

The authenticity of Jesus often remains imperceptible and a rare experience for me. Mainly because my attention is on the things, ideas or formulas that will never form Christ in me. They may make me look good to my Christian culture or convince me that I have it all together (even though everyone can see my cheese is falling off my cracker). They can fill me with spiritual pride and delusion of a better life, but never will help me fall in love with people or be caught up in the Trinitarian romance. They will never allow me to experience that God more often converts me through submission to things that require an exercise of my own intimacy with Him, myself and others. Life is so full of Burning-Bush-moments…...


I wrote this poem in my "private thoughts "book a year ago….

Earth’s crammed with heaven
And every common bush afire with God
But only he who sees takes off his shoes.
The rest sit around it and pluck blackberries

Elizabeth Barret Browning

Today

Today is a difficult day. I am trying to keep all the plates spinning but most seem to never even get off to a wobble and the others are crashing in pieces to the floor.

Today is one of those days where I must accept that, sometimes, life just does not work.

I don’t want a solution I don’t want a miracle…….I would miss the lesson if I asked for it all to be fixed……

I just want Jesus.

As I sit in a puddle of my own tears, ignorance, rebellion, like a child after a tantrum; half dressed one shoe on, hair matted and a dozen plates strewn across the room in various broken pieces, I will reach out to the only One that makes sense to me.

A Tribute

I just finished reading my friend Kristine's most recent blog. Although she is not aware of some of the recent conversations and events related to my friends in Saga, and would be horrified that I am referencing her blog as well as posting a picture of her I love, I thought it particularly providential that she wrote the thoughts she did. They express, so well, what in my heart, I believe to be the actual reality of the non-linear pilgrimage of a true disciple of Jesus. I have known her for some years now and her journey to the depths of Jesus has profoundly blessed my life.

See Joe, you are not alone.

Grief

I am grieving for Jennifer Palmer. Her physical body died this morning and I am so grieved for this loss for her family and friends. She is a complete stranger to me but I was drawn to her story through the blogging community. I have been allowed to, in some small way, be a part of her story. Her husband Mark so graciously and courageously kept her journey documented as he shared her pain and trial as well as the outpouring of love and prayers from their community and other believers who did not know them.

When I gain my composure I would like to blog about some of the things that their story taught me.... and I am sure will continue to teach me.

The Wonder Of It All

I was reading to the girls today from a little nature manual about the nest building skills of the paper wasp and the mud wasp. I became fascinated with the architectural ability of the paper wasp to not only chew up bits of wood and with its own chemistry and anatomy turn it to paper, but then, to build, with no blueprint or permit, an architectural marvel of hundreds of cells in which to lay its progeny.

As it always does, my mind began to ponder how such complexity and efficiency can come from such a thing so small, unassuming and disconnected from my everyday existence: a thing, to my vain thinking, inconsequential, and a pest to avoid because of its venom. It is so easy to misunderstand man's position in creation.

The paper wasp is the perfect builder...a good example for Kingdom Life. She builds her nest in a safe place and then remains with her young, caring for them. When they grow up, they help her form a colony and build and clean the nest creating more room for new paper wasps. Winter comes as a time of testing. Some wasps grow cold and die and others leave to set off alone. They seek shelter and endure the cold until warm weather resumes and they emerge from their hiding places as new mothers building their own nest to start a new colony.....Nature has so much to teach me.

I think the paper wasp (and most of Gods non-human creatures) is a sobering example from the Creator. God has deposited the miraculous in the most unlikely places.........this fascinates me.........humbles me. The older I get the more I respect the small things and see my need to slow down and observe the wonder of the unnoticed. I am not talking about watching it on the discovery channel either….but to go out and intentionally hear the flutter of dove wings and wonder what unseen insect is causing the blades of grass to sway as it passes.

A quote:

"If you speak of a fly, a gnat, a bee, your conversation will be a sort of demonstration of His power whose hand formed them: for the wisdom of the workman is commonly perceived in that which is of little size. He who has stretched out the heavens, and dug out the bottom of the sea, is also He who has pierced a passage through the sting of the bee for the injection of its poison." Basil, Bishop of Caesarea

A girl

I got to be a bachelorette for over 48 hours and it was wonderful....now if I could have 48 more I would.......want 48 more and so on. I guess time alone, really alone; helps you realize how burnt out you are and……who you are. Now, according to life in this society, and the far from the center-like existence of my everyday life, I am JUST a stay at home mom who used to be a dancer for many years and did a short gig as an R.N. Better yet, a Christian-stay-at home-mom with the proverbs 31 woman and home schooling for Jesus banner imposed on my ambivilent identity. But I am none of that……..really.

Inside, I am still a girl.......a little girl who gets morosely sad when she sees a dead bird and when her mother won't give her a good-bye kiss before she goes to school. Little Heidi Page who still calls the Navy Base as often as she can to ask when her daddy's ship will come home....even though when it does come home, her daddy is emotionally as far away as when he was at sea, drinks too much and slaps his wife in the face a lot after a nice day at the zoo and black cherry ice cream.

The little girl with the over active imagination that requires her sister’s confidential clarification to the teachers that think we have a baby sister who is walking around with only one eyeball because of the tragic accident we don’t speak of. I am still the little girl who knocks on stranger's doors to use their bathroom because my mom has locked me out for the day to sleep away undiagnosed depression. A little girl who could, if she had a hankering for a Slurpee and a bag of penny candy from the 7-11, come up with the best scam to go door to door collecting money for some good cause of her imagination.

I am still the fiercely jealous tag-along-of-a sister who can't believe her only sister would want to play with anyone but her. The straw haired imp with freckles who dresses up in her mothers cocktail dresses when no one’s home and sings to her fans, Frank Sinatra’s, “I’ve got you under my skin,” smoking Kent cigarettes left by a meaty German woman who attended her mother's sad attempt at a Tupperware party.

I'm the nervous little girl who is sitting on her principal’s green leather sofa in a pink turtle neck because I've pushed another girl down to see what it would feel like, while all the teachers with coffee breath and Aqua Net hairdo's wring their hands and say….,
"Heidi is so intelligent……so capable if she would only apply herself and stop..... talking….talking......talking." I am still the girl who rolls up Bazooka Joe bubble gum and sticks it on her ears and tells everyone they ARE real earrings, twirling around so her dirndl dress will fly up and the boys can see her under wear ( especially Mitchell).

I am still her, walking around the many California summers barefoot, strolling her doll in an old buggy from Salvation Army until the late evening hours......... the little girl who had her innocence taken away by a stranger ……the little girl who is being redeemed by the Man on a cross she saw while sitting in a Sunday school class she was invited to .........the Man she thought was beautiful and really sad but good.

I guess I will never become who I am supposed to be until I accept and embrace who I still am.

Gift from a Dead Guy and Other Things: a summation of my birthday….. which was yesterday

This summer I have been listening to music by the 17th century court composer Henry Purcell. He wrote in the middle baroque era. His music includes odes, ballads, opera, chamber, theater (he wrote an opera for Shakespeare’s, Midsummer Nights Dream called the Fairy Queen). I love music from this epoch. Very few people reading this blog will relate to this type of music but I was raised in the arts and although I love all music, classical music is the vernacular of heaven in my opinion.

With that said, I was on my way to the gym and I began to sing along with Purcell's old lyrics written for a coronation somewhere in the1600’s.....

"To celebrate, to celebrate, this triumphant day"........

As I made my turn onto the 95 singing along half heartedly, God washed over me......and the tears began to flow. He brought to my heart that it was my birthday and he was celebrating with heaven, this triumphant day. He was a vision of the silly clapping parent at their child's first birthday helping her to blow out the candle. He was happy that I was alive.....truly alive.

It is a triumphant day for me. I have lived 43 years and God celebrates it. This is good because there were many voices in the formative times of those years which made it clear in word and action that they did not celebrate my birth or my life. And for many years, dark inner voices told me that it was a bad day when I was born and there was no reason to celebrate or be around for the next one.
But here I am, triumphant and joyful because the Holy One stands at my side clapping his hands foolishly singing words that he gave to Henry Purcell over 400 years ago. God is full of folly, song and wonder.
I wonder if Henry Purcell knows that God used his music as the best” Happy Birthday” ever sung to a soul……it kind of proves the point that:

” Art is how we locate ourselves in the human condition.” Calvin Miller

So on July 23, 1960, I entered the world on the Dark Continent and God thought it was good. I spent the day just holding on to that. I did not do anything out of the ordinary or festive…..I don’t usually like to. I was supposed to go to dinner but rehearsals went too late. Instead, I watched a bunch of funny, silly bohemians parody “All that Jazz.” This surpasses any culinary pleasures in my book.

There are also some other special things I received for my birthday:I got some books I really like from Gregg and the girls; my Father (whom I never knew growing up) sent me a neat book of historical fiction that took place at the time of my birth and called me; my dear precious friend began a blog; I am married to a very funny, good man; my children love to play dolls and Barbie’s with me and still think I am cool and pretty and celebrate me with unconditional love. So, I am thankful I am alive………To celebrate, to celebrate this Triumphant Day.

Bird by Bird

A quote from a book, titled " Bird by Bird," written by Anne Lamott ( Traveling Mercies) inspired me and sums up my present state at trying to blog after a bout with depression, busyness and allowing too much time to pass since my last entry. I read the quote, laughed out loud and thought about how true it is for me.....for so many of us. Tommorrow is my Birthday and I think I will go buy her book.

"Thirty years ago my older brother, who was ten years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he'd had three months to write. [It] was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table in tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother's shoulder, and said, Bird by bird buddy. Just take it bird by bird."


So with Jesus at my side I will take it bird by Bird

Velveteen Rabbit

The children's story about a little rabbit who, through a boys love, becomes real, is a modern parable to me. I don't know if the writer was a believer, but the story is full of the gospel. I don't know how it came about, but the Lord used this humble little story ( among many other things) to bring some clarity during some time of uncertainty and disillusionment last Fall.
This story came to mind as I have been reading several Nouwen books along with Clowning in Rome, I like to read Nouwen in order to interpret Nouwen.

In one of his books ( a collection of his writing), he talks about the "Disicpline of Becoming." He says...." It is true that we are the beloved but we also have to become the beloved....we are children of God, but we must also become the children of God....We are brothers and sisters, but we must become brothers and sisters. He goes on to explain that the way this is accomplished is by letting that truth become en-fleshed in everything we say, think, and do.
My favorite part is when he says..." It entails a long and painful process of appropriation or, better, incarnation. As long as being the 'beloved' is little more than a beautiful thought or a lofty idea that hangs above my life to keep me from being depressed, nothing really changes. What is required is to BECOME the beloved in the common places of my daily existence and, bit by bit, to close the gap that exists between what I know myself to be and the countless specific realities of everyday life. Becoming the beloved is pulling the truth revealed to me from above down into the ordinariness of what I am, in fact, thinking of, talking about, and doing from hour to hour."--------Life of the Beloved.

For me this quote is the essence of that sweet little story of a rabbit who begins a journey of joy, pain, uncertainty, despair and finally becomes real as a result of spending time with someone who loved him.

May you be gentle with yourself and others as they are in the process of becoming "Real." And never settle for anything else but the path of the love of Our Father's little boy to accomplish it. If you have never had the pleasure of reading this childhood classic I have provided the link so you can enjoy it.

The Velveteen Rabbit

Tangential thoughts on first Chapter of Clowning in Rome.

I have attempted several times to post my insights on Nouwen but have deleted it all because they became too polemic. Though visceral and what I think are truthful, they would betray the intention of my blog so I have waited until what I believe I could write was edifying yet, still, honest and not so angry. Also, I am waiting for a dear friend to receive her copy of 'Clowning' in the mail........now I won't be the only female in the boat. I am hoping she will begin her blog soon.

Though long winded and probably redundant to past postings, here is an impression from reading Nouwen. I was continually struck by his discussion on solitude in that it locks into the theme that I believe is the one root of all human need and the key to a real life with God and one another. It all really boils down to the simple word, so frequently stated in Nouwen's work," Intimacy." We are all desperate for this mysterious encounter..... we are wired for it from birth and continue our whole lives in healthy and unhealthy ways to attempt to fill this primordial ache created in us. If the True One is never allowed to fit this space in the way HE desires, or we have been damaged by other's abuse of this need, the individual becomes a fragmented, irrelevant imposter trying to experience and accomplish spiritual things from a vacuum ( I speak from experience). Nouwen's message is basically, to be an authentic being, to be salt or light in a God starved world, you must experience authenticity....intimacy with self and Christ before you enter the world attempting to leave your footprint.

I believe that there are people in the church and they are good, well meaning people, but tragically, they have not seen a day of intimacy with Jesus let alone themselves.....despite their good intentions of mission, service, vision, and a Christian's personal holiness, they do little for the kingdom of God and can actually be detrimental to their fellow believers and the gospel message. There are far too many unexamined lives wreaking havoc on the body in Christendom. It is the privilege of every human that calls themselves a follower of Jesus to be intimately involved with Him..... that is the 'first things first' of any serious disciple, and I am thankful for people like Henri Nouwen, Brennan Manning, Oswald Chambers, Jeanne Guyon, Francois Fenelon and Calvin Miller who, through their struggles and pain, have had the honesty and courage to help me to see what this looks like.

I have learned to find the riches and depths of Christ through these virtual strangers. Why is that? I have been to a lot of church in its many forms and presentations and have heard little if none of what their writings emphasize. I see people sincerely try to do amazing things for the kingdom who have nothing to their depth save zealousness and a need to make an emergency bond. I am no different; I am so good at trying to have the riches of Christ without the work of intimacy wth Him. That is the lie of all lies in church today......join this group, do this study, model this form of church, serve in this ministry,and then..........and then, personal implosion and being grouped, in my opinion, with the goats in the end!!!

No, the way, as Jesus said and demonstrated is narrow, low tech, not a system, power point program, pamphlet or pseudo-community. It is work, not as I think or waste energy on, but an effort to prioritize quietness, and poverty, and personal honesty in Jesus. It is to persevere through the fear and existential separateness, which comes upon me when I am really alone with this Son of the Most High. It is to endure my wandering mind and cerebral conversations and arguments with friends and enemies as I attempt to settle down into the solitude that will create and renew. It is to be able to accept His truth and conviction,( which amazingly is vastly different from what I tend to think needs conviction and accountability in my life). To not grow discouraged with my vague sense of identity, but to trust in the One who is recreating it. It is a marriage, a vow, a commitment, to Him, of all the worst and best in myself. A place where he tells me I have belonged all along despite the hurts of others, my sins against them, spiritual perfectionism and self-hatred/rejection. It is a place to tell him I love Him for who He is.........A place where I learn to love His world as He does.

My anemic attempts at solitude have been so healing for the disordered emotions and thinking I suffer with. Meditating on scripture has become medicinal communication with the Holy Spirit and strength in dark moments.... dwelling on Jesus through imagination and Nature has brought so much joy and peace..... And the knowledge that I am passionately loved. It is just so wonderful to begin to know on such a miniscule scale what it really means to have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. I am almost forty-three years old and accepted Jesus in my heart at fourteen and I am just beginning to understand what that means. I feel like I have met my first and true love...... much of my solitude and meditation on Jesus involves the Song of Solomon....He is my beloved and I am his, this is all I want to know anymore.
I think Oswald Chambers said it best in his message, Intimate With Jesus.

Please read this and be blessed.

Monday blessing
On Mondays I go to a bike class at 9am. I have to get there by 815 am to sign up and get a bike because it is so popular. So I spend the rest of the 45 min. and sit in the car. I usually read or pray etc. Today, I forgot the book I am reading so I turned on a CD I love to meditate on the Lord to and I was so overwhelmed by him all of a sudden...there are times when he does that...... he makes himself extremely vivid.
A memory of my visit to the ocean popped in my head of my girls and I looking for shells to bring back for friends and collages. I kept scolding my youngest daughter because she kept putting the broken shells in the bucket....."Only the pretty ones" I said, but she said, "I like the broken ones".
Then, I got this mind's eye, panoramic view of a beautiful field and all these broken pots in various stages of being cracked, broken and utterly shattered and I saw Jesus patiently walking among the pots holding the hem of his robe to form a pouch to place them in. This overwhelmed me so intensely I could not stop the tears.....I've never had an issue with crying;I think I have gone months and months without crying. Now, when I just think about the Lord, He reduces me to rubble. I went in to bike class with my sunglasses on, I was so self -conscious of my swollen eyes. This morning's solitude has left me with the impression of pure hope....don't give up, the Geat Tender Potter is not finished.

Praises to my precious Jehovah Shamah, the God who is there, the God who wants the broken ones.

Remembering Good and Noble things …….Philippians 3:8

I found this in a word document I had written the day I found out that Mr. Rogers died (I cried). I grew up glued to Mr. Rogers. I loved him ….my sister would say he bored her and he was probably too low tech for some kids (how sad is that?), but he was so gentle to me, a television fantasy father. I loved the make believe and he and Captain Kangaroo taught me to tie my shoes. I fell in love with him more when I found out he loved classical music and his wife was a concert pianist. I thought I would post this because it reminded me how important it is to live a gentle life of affirmation and deliberate love, to leave this world a melody that would remain in peoples hearts and minds….It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood…..

Mr. Roger’s Sparrow song:

“We all have only one life to live on earth and through television we have the choice of encouraging others to demean this life or to cherish it in creative imaginative ways”. Fred Rogers

Things I learned from Mister Rogers:

I am the only one of me in the world
Everyone has something special about them
It is okay to be afraid or angry
Make believe is important
Hang up your sweater
Love and get to know your neighbor
Love yourself
Be gentle
Talk slower
There is a simple make-up song for all the things we experience
Listen
Be curious
Children have dignity

The Legend of the Thorn Bird

There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest sharpest spine. And, dying, it rises above its own agony to outcarol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price. But the whole world stills to listen and God in his heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of pain.......or so says the legend.

Thank you Jesus for the sweetest song that will be heard for eternity.

Clowning in Rome
I would like to join the reading club....I haven't read that one yet and would love to blog some thoughts, especially on Nouwen . I read Phil's Blog last night and wanted to say I look forward to him blogging more.

An Anniversary

It has been one year today that we moved from a 2500 square foot home to our 1488 square foot home. The differences in the mortgages is about as dramatic as the footage. We have done a lot to this little fixer upper. I am hoping our pool will be finished by my daughter's birthday in June. I think I will call it home for awhile and put more of my self and personality into it.

The anniversary brought back a memory when we were remodeling the kitchen . We basically had no where to put anything, there was no flooring in the whole house and Gregg, who cannot stand conflict, had to come out of his unflappable, easy going guy mode and go toe to toe with a slack jawed kitchen installer who was incompetent and had absolutely no integrity. After the confrontation, Gregg had to put in a full days work and the girls and I were left swimming through all the anger and profanity.

I was trying to come up with some creative way to put lunch together and I think I was standing in what might of been the general area of the potential kithchen pretty numb from the drama and my youngest daughter who was five at the time had been playing with her toy guitar and started singing this song she made up. I wrote it down because it was one of those moments when you know Jesus is breaking in ...simple and profound. I was humming it to myself today. In my opinion, 5 year olds are the best theologians ( she is six now and still pretty theologically brilliant).

You have to kinda sing the song to a little bit of a Mary Had a Lttle Lamb rhythm but not the melody.

God loves me more than Microwaves and eggs microwaves and eggs, microwaves and eggs
God loves me more than computers and rabbits computers and rabbits computers and rabbits
God loves me more than milk and crackers. I don't know why he just does

Do you love God for who he is, who he is, who he is, Do you love God for who he is ?
I don't know why I just do.


Thank you Lord for a roof over our heads, loving us and five year-olds

Contemplation: to view or consider with continued attention.

Contemplatives dwell on God. I think contemplation is communing, dare I say, having church with yourself. I am always drawn to read books about great Christian contemplatives. They learned how to live in the presence of God. They passed from "Christian Activity" to the higher call to be at home in the heart of God. This doesn't mean they just sat around all day contemplating their navels. It means they finally, through God's grace, were able to put the horse before the cart. They were able to genuinely serve their Lord because they fell in love with him in their prayer closets. Through celebrating him in their ordinary mundane lives, daily persevering through the distraction of self, intellect, vain thinking and religious dogma, they could receive him for who he was, not what he could do for them.

I have slowly come to realize I have often done church with people, but I have rarely done it with myself. I believe that God is requiring this discipline from me but I am avoiding it. I am not anti-communal or saying I should forsake meetings, but how can I share genuine community, when I can barely, on any consistent basis, sit alone quietly for five-ten minutes with Jesus without being distracted by my racing thoughts and vain thinking or sometimes becoming overwhelmingly fearful of confronting the vast chasm between him and me. How can I come together with my brethren offering a hymn or a teaching when I never really received it from the proper source to begin with.....I am just quoting some other person that did the time with God.....isn't that spiritual plagiarism?

Do I despise the meeting of the saints so much that I arrogantly neglect the necessary preparation done before the Holy Spirit on my face so that I may be of some true service to my brothers? I know we are to meet in simplicity with out pretense, but honestly, I have heard some of the most careless insensitive things said in community in the name of Jesus…..and regretfully they have often times come from my own lips.

When we authentically participate in the practice of the presence of Jesus, our lives mysteriously become a message to the world, to our brothers......to ourselves. We have spent so much time in that presence our "right being" instead of “right doing" becomes a well for the thirsty and a voice in the desert. Jesus Christ is so lifted up in our life that he draws men through our extraordinary, ordinary life. As it is, I am an expert in practicing the presence of me and the Christian imposter I have settled for.

My true battles are not with sin and suffering but with the self which tells me the cares of material life and Christian activity are priority... that I need to answer this special call on my life ……. I have NO special work to do; I have no special call!! The only call on my life is to Jesus Christ alone and total devotion to him. How many times have I left him hungry and thirsty right under my nose when I have been off doing the things that I thought were Christian? Why do I continue to jump on every spiritual/ideological bandwagon when Jesus is left standing alone at the altar in the tabernacle of my heart? He has something to say that is bread for me everyday ( Isaiah 30:15) but I will have no part of it. I continue to seek out those who would fill my cup. This is why I must stop. I must return to his temple and meet with him, persevere with him in the hard things he will say to me and melt in the pure love that I will find there. I must go to him before I go to my brothers or the world. I must seek him in his temple.

Lord Jesus, may I truly come to know what it means to love you with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my strength.