To keep that edge sharp

"Beware of the danger of spiritual relaxation." (Oswald Chambers)

Reading a devotional piece earlier today, I ran across this brief but powerful admonition that caught me up short and compelled me to take notice. Why? Because I found myself described here, in this idea of "spiritual relaxation" - and that discovery was too close for comfort. So I was left feeling a degree of conviction, which has often been for me a prodding of the Holy Spirit that something needs doing, or fixing, or at least some serious attention. So I'm attending, and finding in this a troubling reality. "Spiritual Relaxation" can be synonymous with some less than desirable characteristics - things which most people would want to distance themselves from. But which some people find embedded in the traits that are almost default ways of living and responding to life and the world. A short, descriptive catalog of these traits might include: apathy, indifference, discontent, lethargy, resentment, malaise, frustration, self-centeredness, sluggishness, coldness, depression, anxiety, despondence, and more. The scary thing is that those who are too often relaxed spiritually - who have believed themselves spiritually right where they ought to be - are actually putting distance between themselves from God with every breath. You see, unlike the relaxed ones, God is dynamic, vital, moving, engaged, involved, excited, creative, serving, filled with hope and promise and power. Spiritual relaxation and those who practice that pattern of living are daily, minute by minute, turning their backs on the very things that make for abundant spiritual living. And like dry leaves afloat on a rapidly moving current, they will eventually be washed away. And wonder why. So I post this image today as a symbol and reminder of the darker side of spiritual relaxation - not a sofa or a bed of ease, but a fence, a barrier, an impediment to the kind of spiritual life and vitality God wants to give. Somewhere in the Old Testament book of Amos, as pointed out once by Charles Schultz in his "Peanuts" comic strip, I recall the wisdom of the prophet, who said to all with ears to hear: "Woe unto those who are at ease in Zion!" So I guess we've gotta pay attention, get up and go out to where Jesus is, to keep our spiritual edge sharp.

I Will See Him

I know that my redeemer lives,
and that in the end he will stand on the earth.
And after my skin has been destroyed,
yet in my flesh I will see God;
I myself will see him
with my own eyes—I, and not another.
How my heart yearns within me! ~Job 25-27, NIV

When did my beloved and very smart son become more of a Calvinist than me? That realization struck me this morning as I replayed in my memory something he will often say in the face of life's up-ticks and (especially) its downturns.

"Dad," he'll tell me in his best monotone, "It is what it is." And with that view of God's will expressed, he moves on.

Wow! How I admire that ability he has, to let go of life's junk with a shrug and sometimes a sigh, and more or less accept whatever is sitting on the plate before him with a degree of faith and a lot of teflon. As he wrestles with his chronic health issues, he may feel regrets sometimes - maybe many times, but he doesn't let them eat him alive. And bitterness? Well, I can't say he doesn't ever feel the twinges of that - after all, he is human. But I'm not sure he'll ever give in to bitterness planting its toxic roots deeply in his heart without a fierce fight. And my son is a fierce fighter. He's got to be - my son has Crohn's disease.

Right now, as I wait on God, I am wrestling with life choices of my own. Choices to move on and live in the moment, glad for the present and hopeful for the future. Or choices to stick in a mire of slimy regrets and freeze into bitterness over what has happened in my life - specifically, in my loss of position, salary, and sense of worth.

How I choose to face this current situation and live out the rest of my life is up to me.

Yeah, I got bumped pretty good. Blind-sided, even. But I want to be a Calvinist in this, like my "Dad, it is what it is"  son. I want to live into God's unfolding will. So here I borrow the text from a familiar expression of faith popularly known as "The Serenity Prayer..."

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
that I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
forever in the next.
Amen. ~Reinhold Niebuhr.

Remembering this wonderful old prayer, I want to choose, as my son does, as Niebuhr prays, to have the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, without regrets and bitterness. And further, I want to face each day set before me with the courage to change the things I can, including the things about myself that are possible to change. But with this, also the wisdom to distinguish between hope and regret-ridden bitter thoughts and feelings, so I can gladly and freely choose to live into hope, with faith in God providing, on each new day.

Because after all, like Old Testament Job once exclaimed - my Redeemer lives. And I will see him.

A Place to Stand

Why do you make me see iniquity,
and why do you idly look at wrong?
Destruction and violence are before me;
strife and contention arise. Habakkuk 1:3, ESV

What does it mean to fail? Since losing my position as senior pastor, on a very deeply personal level, I've had to deal with this depressing question almost every single day. It isn't easy. It isn't easy to admit I've failed. But that is how I feel and the evidence surely lends validity to that awful feeling.

I thought I was in the ministry to serve God. That was my original understanding of my calling. And through some 25 years of being a minister, I more or less held to that idea. Only, over the years I guess other stuff, other junk, worked into the picture, clouded the vision, made this about serving me at least as much as about serving God or his people. So maybe somewhere along the line, I lost sight of my calling, my serving God and what it means to do that. I really don't know. What I do know is I am unemployed.

And the hard thing to do, from this pile of spent career rubble I'm sitting on, is to sort the pieces out. And hopefully to start again one day, but this time on the right footing. God-willing. And so I wait.

Waiting on God invites introspection like this. I am not good at waiting, but I have a knack for delving deep into layers of junk. And if that junk happens to be layers of me, so much the better. Only it's easy to get tangled in that delving and lost in that introspection. It's easy to forget the Accuser is all to glad to use whispers of "failure" to discourage and further wreck what already feels like a life in shambles.

What is needed is perspective. Perspective on success and failure, and what these words really mean. Reading from Jerry Sittser's book, THE WILL OF GOD AS A WAY OF LIFE has helped me find a little perspective. Quoting Benedict Groeschel, a Franciscan, he writes:

"It is commonly thought that if we begin a project for the Lord, the pieces will fall into place. It doesn't work out that way... Disasters befall projects of the good spirit, as well as those of the bad. Success has never been a sign of God's will. As Mother Teresa of Calcutta has observed, 'God calls us to fidelity and not to success.' It seems to me a sure sign that a certain project is the work of God if we have the grace to struggle on without bitterness in the face of difficulties and frustrations."

I guess it really isn't about pass/fail, or success or not. Besides, who really gets to measure these things, anyway? Thanks to Groeschel, Mother Teresa, and Jerry Sittser, I have something a bit more positive to think about and hold to: 'God calls us to fidelity and not to success.'

So maybe in the end it's not whether my ministry career has been a success; or even if it is truly over. It's more about fidelity and grace. And perhaps, where fidelity and grace abound, and until God sees fit to open the next chapter, I guess I can find hope to wait and a place to stand.

Change and Challenge

"We ought not to grow tired of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed." ~Brother Lawrence

"We face our greatest challenges not when God requires us to live heroically and sacrificially but when he calls us to be faithful in our daily routines. Living with routine can easily lull us into complacency."~Jerry Sittser, THE WILL OF GOD AS A WAY OF LIFE

"And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." ~Colossians 3:17, ESV

As I wait on God, I'm finding myself stuck in a daily routine not of my own choosing. Home, and without a call, I have settled into eight straight months of wondering what God has for me next. That it might be God wants exactly this for me has hardly stirred my soul with inspiration. But if Jerry Sittser is right in what he said, I may well be in a period of my greatest challenge, ever. Perhaps God is saying to me, in effect: So you want humility? You want spiritual maturity? You want to serve? You want to grow in your walk with Christ? Then sit still and wait on me.

Yikes! So now I get to practice the presence of God (like Brother Lawrence) in the ordinary things of being home and unemployed. I get to learn it's ok, and even a blessing, to load and empty the dishwasher. Lessons in keeping house are a struggle, but I have recently vacuumed the house and pushed the wet-mop across the tile. I run daily errands, like the grocery or other things of that kind. It's hot as blazes this summer, but when I can do it without heatstroke (which in Florida summers is pretty rare), I can go outside and do a bit of yardwork or crank up the old grill and cook our dinner. And I am delving into some spiritual disciplined readings and writings, which I feel have been therapeutic for my wounded soul.

The main point here is that whatever I'm doing, the routine, the ordinary, the unasked-for idle time can be filled with self-pity and bitter complacency (some days...). Or it can become an opportunity to glorify God in even the most basic tasks of being. I'm wanting to choose the latter, and am trying to re-wire my expectations and my actions to meet this great challenge which God has now set before me.

Like this picture of a guy hosing those wooden pallets on the street, I'm desiring more and more to want to do it, whatever it is, humbly, thankfully, and to the glory of God.

Message in a Chinese Fortune Cookie

This foolish plan of God is wiser than the wisest of human plans, and God's weakness is stronger than the greatest of human strength. ~1 Corinthians 1:25, NLT

Does God work in mysterious ways? Yes. Does he even work through foolish-sounding things - like a Chinese fortune cookie? Haha! A month or so ago I would have said, absolutely not! However, I got a message in a cookie recently that leads me to re-think my first answer, and believe that God might not be too proud after all, to use a simple cookie to remind a hurting guy like me that waiting on him is what he wants.

My mind-changing fortune cookie read: "Right now you need to be patient."

Given my present situation, this cookie-gram really caught my attention!

I remembered that God once spoke with an erstwhile prophet named Balaam through his donkey.
And Jesus once said that if the people were silent about him, God could raise up the rocks and stones to proclaim his glory.
The psalmist once noticed that "out of the mouths of babes and infants" God speaks and raises bulwarks against his foes.
And theologian/apostle Paul observed that God speaks through the wonders of creation itself (see Romans 1).

So why not wait? Why not a fortune cookie?

Learning Curve

Just came back from the movies. It's a Sunday afternoon as I write down some random thoughts. Today we saw "The Help" and were brought back to a time when white racism toward black people was just a way of being, one that few people of my race thought about or questioned where I grew up. In some ways I feel more like I've been to church than when I actually go to church. Maybe that's because it was a particularly powerful movie and life lesson, and could very well fall into the category of "inspirational" or even "inspired."

At one point in the movie, one of the characters gets unexpectedly and unfairly fired, and she commented something to the effect that "in just ten minutes time, my whole way of life was ended." Everything she had known was over.

I thought at the time how much I can relate to this character's experience of sudden disconnect. When I was told last November that "we want you to take early retirement," I was absolutely astounded. It was shock I was feeling, both at the abruptness of this demand and the unjust callousness of it; I was shaken to the core.

That was almost 9 months ago as I look at the calendar. Some of the rawness of that moment has eased, but the sadness and shock has lingered. In the time in-between I've worked on forgiving and loving the ones whose hearts seemed made of stone. It hasn't been easy, and some days, all but impossible. But once in a while, I feel the peace of actually letting go.

A couple of things come to mind. First this passage from the Gospel:

“Teacher, which is the most important commandment in the law of Moses?”

Jesus replied, “‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ The entire law and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments.” ~Matthew 22:36-40, NLT

The other comes from that same Gospel:

But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. ~Matthew 6:33, KJV

It strikes me that these two distinct passages are really one, each in support of the other. It also strikes me that waiting on God's will is a learning curve - learning to love God and neighbor, and discovering in this learning (and loving) the actual seeking of God's kingdom and his righteousness as an outgrowth. Difficult, but true in the Mississippi and the South at the time of "The Help" and also difficult but true in the life of this once and future minister as I wait upon the Lord for guidance and direction and calling.

Sometimes wisdom comes to those who wait...

For if you cry for discernment,
Lift your voice for understanding;
If you seek her as silver
And search for her as for hidden treasures;
Then you will discern the fear of the LORD
And discover the knowledge of God.         ~Proverbs 2:3-5, NASB

All Ears, Still Waiting

“Speak Lord; your servant is listening” 1 Sam 3:10

Kinship

My soul languishes for your salvation; I hope in your word. My eyes fail with watching for your promise; I ask, "When will you comfort me?" For I have become like a wineskin in the smoke, yet I have not forgotten your statutes. How long must your servant endure? ~Psalm 119:81-84, NRSV

The dried, wilted rose jumped out at me that day. I was walking through New Orleans' old St. Louis Cathedral and found it, as if lying in repose, on a flat surface in a prayer intentions area. It had been left near a small bank of public votive prayer candles you can light and burn for a price. It held the look and the place of long-suffering need and of the languishing prayers of the faithful. I can so relate.

As I wait on the Lord for vindication, for resolution, for direction or guidance, I realize his hand is providing for me still. I have my daily bread. And yet his same hand has allowed my vocational sense of "me" to be removed from the active and vital place it had occupied since before 1984, when I first sensed the call to ministry - a call which has led me along a labyrinthian path of highs and lows that has wound up leaving me here. Unemployed.

Today I feel disconnected, and I languish as if I have been cast unfairly into some cruel prison, or left abandoned to shrivel and die on the cold surface of some anonymous prayer intentions area. And as I experience this, I increasingly grow to feel true kinship with this dried, wilted rose. And with the Psalmist's cry of anguish.

My prayers still flicker, burning like the candles beside the rose. When will my hopes and prayers find their answer?

Like A Drought

“My soul languishes for your salvation; I hope in your word. My eyes fail with watching for your promise; I ask, 'When will you comfort me?'” -Psalm 119:81-82, NRSV


“I have reservoirs of want enough to freeze many nights over.” -Conor O'Callaghan


“How long, O LORD, must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, "Violence!" but you do not save?” -Habbakkuk 1:2, NIV

Waiting is agonizing when you're not at all sure of what you're waiting for. When you do know, it can be even worse. Like living in coastal Florida from March to late June, beautiful but bone dry. Lush but rainless. Living things begin to shrivel and die.

Maddeningly, clouds begin to form in early June. You see the promise, you hear distant thunder rolling. You might even see a flash of heat lightning when night falls. But nothing more. There is little to be done except to just wait for the rainy season to finally make its appearance. Or else hope for an early hurricane.

Waiting on God can feel a lot like that.

“After long drought, commotion in the sky; After dead silence, thunder. Then it comes, The rain.” -Mark van Doren

See the flower energing from that cracked, parched ground? Hoping in God can turn out just about like that. God does eventually show up. But meanwhile, the waiting can seem endless.