Writer's write.....that continues to haunt me some. Not that I strive so much to be known as a writer, but when I write I often do feel the pleasure of God. It seems something I have been given that needs to be exercised and not garaged. Yet I get caught up in so many things that scuttle it all. Things like, "I don't really have anything to say or write about", "what about being read vs anonymously just writing" (journal vs blog), "to really enjoy the process I must be inspired, must be "pregnant, in order for the words to flow without much effort".
It has now been over a year since firing up 500' Flyby. As has happened before, I couldn't even figure out how to get to my own blog...at least not in a manner that would actually let me write a new post. Feels so ironic, like you are no longer even invited to the party that you yourself are hosting...
So write 500 words a day has been offered as a discipline for the "writers write" school of establishing some momentum. Writing as discipline is not so inviting (if I am to be honest). I'm aware of a lurking laziness that so prefers the inspired, lightning-key-stroke school rather than the paralysis of staring-at-a-blank-page-and grind-it out approach.
But enough about writing ..I fumbled my way back here today seeking to give shape to an amorphous blob of vague, dis-jointed thought threads that seem to be begging to be born into some semblance of articulated clarity.
With more years behind me than ahead of me, I find myself trying to make sense of what my mom would call my "so-called life". Classic search for meaning kind of stuff. Yesterday found me doing the chore of spring raking and burning some pine needles (if ever I could find a use for these sproingy, brown, 4-inch devils I would be a seriously rich man!). I took advantage of the hot fire to burn what some would simply bring to a shredder. Sandi had a couple of small boxes of old documents, receipts and records. As I gradually threw them into the fire, I noticed old hospital bills that spoke of the devastation and tragedy of Rich's medical misfortunes. There was also a notebook from 1980 with handy pockets used for Flegle budgeting.
I watched as the flames consumed the notebook full of the hopes of better managing life by using monthly budget controls. There were all kind of receipts including way too many medical bills for central lines and lab tests that marked the unraveling of what had been. To me, the flames seemed to mock the irrelevancy of the past. Back in that day, it was all so invested with vitality, dreams and hope. And now, fast-forwarded 35 years, the flames merely smirked at the essence of lost life obliterated by the blazing orange heat. Perspective seems so much more a living category when one's years of life pile up into a critical mass of experiences.
The way we were (cue Redford/Streisand)....poignant stuff...at least for me. I chalk it off to my own internal yearning for the 4th act of my eternalness. A place/time where the maxim "all good things must pass" is no longer true. I know of this Kingdom, I am a citizen of this Kingdom but today I write from the ache of the "already but not yet"....not yet Santiago, not yet.
And what of an Instagram of the right now you might ask? Well, that is a horse of an entirely different color. A color not of nostalgic, maudlin, bittersweet hues, but of hotter colors that elicit un-invited angst and a vague sense of the recording that blares out just before the plane's impact..."BRACE", "BRACE". Ok, ok, no agreements but that is at least how it feels. In my quest for catharsis, I write into this.....
It's a life-stage thing. Two years out from 70 and the start of collecting SS. Dear wife less than a year away from collecting 1/2 of my file/suspend. With work, it's not quite time to hang it up (will it ever be?). I do have my 68th year in the bank corral. My 69th year is what I am working on these days and I have some part of it (not too anxious to calculate how much lest I lull myself into some kind of un-plugged, lazy stupor). Suffice it to say that as I fly my recruiting plane on daily missions I find that I have started to look for suitable landing places where I might put it down...either permanently or for some kind of 'guerrilla, touch-and-go' strategy.
Get the picture?? It's a delicate time financially for 453. Sandi is on the dark side of the moon until January. No income will be coming from her direction until then. Meanwhile, I am working on staying one year ahead...even further if I can. Why? Because I am still traumatized by the many years of barely making it and holding my breath through the too-long-spaces between placements. This was the hallmark of too many years. Financial security as an idol you might posit? Yes,my outlook would be hard to spiritually defend. Even now as I write, I determine to be open to loosening my grip on the present strategy and be open to Kingdom alternatives that may be required.
Superimposed on the above is what I have sloppily termed the "453 Holocaust" (def. great or total destruction of life). Although a completely overstated, inaccurate term, it somehow does a good job of reflecting the feelings that accompany the tsunami reported to be heading our way. You see it was 20 years ago that a family death occurred and the method of coping for two siblings has brought us to the present circumstances. One, now married and with an in-process-adoptive set of island little ones in tow, is in need of a platform from which she can re-launch her life. But with no funds and a health status that finds her physically, psychologically and emotionally crippled, to say there are challenges is ever so understated. The other hopped into a not-well-thought-out-ill-advised marriage. Now, needing an exit from a completely dysfunctional 19 year "partnership" (consisting of 18 years of hard, non-life sustaining road), she is soon headed to this concrete slab at 453 with her 12, 15 and 17 year old progeny.
It's about what this "feels" like that leaves me shuddering. Our vulnerable boat for 2 seems hardly able to withstand a 5X influx of new souls. How does this all make you "feel" Santiago? CONFLICTED! UNDER SIEGE! On one hand, it is only common sense that sees this amount of family-bearing-kryptonite as a Seeouw-i-ous crack in our humble domain. On the other, 1Jn3:16-18 offers a counterpoint: "By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us; and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren. But if any one has the world's goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or speech but in deed and in truth".
Get the picture? It's as if one cup of "for such a time as this" is added to a half cup of "run Forest, run" and 3 tbsps of "not now, not here" and blended at high speed. The green-grey liquid is then poured out into a little plastic Kool-Aid cup and tossed back with a chaser of shame at not being in a different frame of mind about it all.
Yikes, letting this all out to sit on paper where it quivers under the light of day is not bringing the comfort or relief for which I had hoped. Nothing is resolved in just describing the circumstantial details...no easy relief. Time to put this on a back burner, turn it down to simmer and come back in a day or two and see if these meanderings bring any life, or relief, or perspective, or anything of a useful, positive nature....
Well, a couple days have passed and no magical insights. Except to say that I believe the above is an honest enough look at the mix of emotions I am managing. As a citizen of the Kingdom I have come to realize and accept that it is not in fact about me. I am not the hero of the story I find myself in. As John said, I must decrease but he must increase. I ask your forgiveness Father for all my selfishness and all self protective efforts that keep me stuck in a selfish box. For such a time as this......I have been part of this blended family for 14 years now. To be asked to step up and into the management of providing a place of relaunch for children and grandchildren is an honor and a privilege and an opportunity to walk humbly with my God.
Buck up Santiago....once there is the perspective of an image in the rear view mirror, I believe I will only have gratitude at having been invited into this black diamond forest.
Now to him, who be the power at work within us is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and forever....Amen.
Wednesday, March 18, 2015
Sunday, November 10, 2013
44 Hours: Part 2
Ok, so now I am officially a rookie hermit. I have things squared away in my little hermitage and the proverbial "Now what" comes into my mind. Years of being a western man, soaked in a culture where your value is determined by your output, what you contribute, causes me to have my first moment of slight panic. Fortunately, the thought just lasts for a moment as another part of my mind quickly answers the questioning with "You just be James. Be the human being that you are. Not a human doing...you have had years of that endless cul-de-sac, but now surrender yourself to the fact there is not one agenda item, not even one "have to do", there is really no next." Wow! As I let that soak in I was washed over by the euphoria of all of the hours I had before me with no particular expectations, no lists to check off, nothing to attend to but to present myself to my Lord and to the present as an end in itself. It was euphoric, almost giddy, in effect.
Ok, the adventure-loving part of me said let's go explore so off I went. Pacem is situated on 240 acres of land. Most of it is nicely wooded with a mix of oak and maple. There were acorns and a panoply of colored leaves carpeting the ground with a sweet,earthy, smell of graceful decay. The various hermitages, all named after saints, are located in wide-spread groups of 3 along twisting, narrow dirt roads. There is no electricity and the "biffy" is located by itself, one for each group of 3 hermitages. There is also an 8 acre stretch of open space they call the prairie with walking paths mowed into the grassy field for ambling along. And ambling is precisely what I found myself doing. My gosh, I have never walked so slow in all my life and it served as an outer indication of an internal slowing and a contemplative attitude that was increasingly beginning to take over. There were benches strategically placed along the way that beckoned the hermit to just sit and be. A large, wooden cross was on one side of the field.
One of the path routes took you down by a small lake. There were two curved boardwalks that led out over the reed, grass and cattails ending on a small, square dock area complete with one wrought iron chair and an accompanying little table. It was so inviting, so set up as if to say "Here you go, we were expecting you." Yet another example of the intentionality that was so evident in how each aspect of Pacem was set up to operate. Another instance of the founder's forethought was that as you entered the boardwalk there was a post on each side with a rope on a hook. Upon entering, the rope was placed across the opening to indicate to others that for now you were occupying this particular place. Message to me: "Come on in, relax and be, you won't be interrupted and stay as long as you like". Although there were two of these areas the sight lines were such that you would never see another person even though they were only about 15 yards away....more intentionality.
So I strolled along, soaking up the warmth of the fall sun, listening, listening so intently for the still, small voice of my actual Host on this venture of solitude. More and more I was aware of what I was silently saying, "Thank you Father, thank you for this opportunity, thank you for this piece of your creation, thank you for inviting me here, thank you for calling me your friend." Reflecting on what was going on back in the "real" world did not sit well, as though such thoughts were not what this time was about. This time was about the now of now and a celebration of being invited up and into the fellowship of the kingdom. The world seemed so less fallen in this place and provided a glimpse of what is to come when the earth can stop it's groaning,
for that time coming when it will be freed from it's bondage to decay.
I ambled back to my Teresa of Avila sanctuary, took a two hour nap that took me into the deepest of sleeps. I awoke to the glory of the woods in such an idyllic setting right outside my ringside-maple-rocker of a seat. Another stroll as I considered what Tamara had said about Papa's excitement for me to be there with him. All of the beauty, and the slow-paced consideration of what I had been called into ministered to me in so many ways, "I am the beloved son of the most high God", "I am a beloved son, just as I am, not as I ought to be". Couple that with more realization that I had endless hours ahead of me for more of the same without interruption. Oh my, this Santiago was more than once moved to tears of gratitude. The natural rhythm of the day pulsed on and the sun's light began to fail, time to go back to my refuge and begin thinking about receiving the night.
As I sat in my rocker the thought of making a cup of tea entered my head. Now there was a foreign idea. Black coffee is how I normally roll. But now, the genteelness of tea seemed so appealing so I brewed a cup. As I sat rocking, gazing and getting lost in the wooded scene, I thought "Now is the time of day that deer come out and start moving." One thousand one, one thousand two and as if my Savior actually said, "You are correct my friend, watch this...", a small doe came into view ever so close. She was so herself, browsing along in her deer-like way, a picture of yet another part of the glorious creation. She exited stage left and as she left my sight line immediately on my right entered a spike buck onto this customized stage of life that had been so lovingly arranged for me. He was not so casual, he walked more as being on a mission and in no time he exited to the left. One thousand one, one thousand two and here comes the young deer lady, running for her life as if to say "Leave me alone you big brute!" And then all was once again calm and silent. Father had just produced a beautiful scene in a special drama for an audience of one and I continued to revel in being the beloved son.
As night came and my reading stopped, I enjoyed the simple food of my basket for that day. The bread I blessed and thankfully ate the fruit and some cheese. This day was ending, candles were lit and it would soon be time to experience the comfort of my single bed. This had been a day like no other. And oh my gosh, I had another 24 hours in the on-deck circle promising more time for being with no thoughts of doing but to be, to be, the beloved son of the name that is above every name in heaven, on earth and under the earth.
Sweet Jesus, from the bottom of my circumcised heart, thank you, thank you, thank you!
Ok, the adventure-loving part of me said let's go explore so off I went. Pacem is situated on 240 acres of land. Most of it is nicely wooded with a mix of oak and maple. There were acorns and a panoply of colored leaves carpeting the ground with a sweet,earthy, smell of graceful decay. The various hermitages, all named after saints, are located in wide-spread groups of 3 along twisting, narrow dirt roads. There is no electricity and the "biffy" is located by itself, one for each group of 3 hermitages. There is also an 8 acre stretch of open space they call the prairie with walking paths mowed into the grassy field for ambling along. And ambling is precisely what I found myself doing. My gosh, I have never walked so slow in all my life and it served as an outer indication of an internal slowing and a contemplative attitude that was increasingly beginning to take over. There were benches strategically placed along the way that beckoned the hermit to just sit and be. A large, wooden cross was on one side of the field.
One of the path routes took you down by a small lake. There were two curved boardwalks that led out over the reed, grass and cattails ending on a small, square dock area complete with one wrought iron chair and an accompanying little table. It was so inviting, so set up as if to say "Here you go, we were expecting you." Yet another example of the intentionality that was so evident in how each aspect of Pacem was set up to operate. Another instance of the founder's forethought was that as you entered the boardwalk there was a post on each side with a rope on a hook. Upon entering, the rope was placed across the opening to indicate to others that for now you were occupying this particular place. Message to me: "Come on in, relax and be, you won't be interrupted and stay as long as you like". Although there were two of these areas the sight lines were such that you would never see another person even though they were only about 15 yards away....more intentionality.
So I strolled along, soaking up the warmth of the fall sun, listening, listening so intently for the still, small voice of my actual Host on this venture of solitude. More and more I was aware of what I was silently saying, "Thank you Father, thank you for this opportunity, thank you for this piece of your creation, thank you for inviting me here, thank you for calling me your friend." Reflecting on what was going on back in the "real" world did not sit well, as though such thoughts were not what this time was about. This time was about the now of now and a celebration of being invited up and into the fellowship of the kingdom. The world seemed so less fallen in this place and provided a glimpse of what is to come when the earth can stop it's groaning,
for that time coming when it will be freed from it's bondage to decay.
I ambled back to my Teresa of Avila sanctuary, took a two hour nap that took me into the deepest of sleeps. I awoke to the glory of the woods in such an idyllic setting right outside my ringside-maple-rocker of a seat. Another stroll as I considered what Tamara had said about Papa's excitement for me to be there with him. All of the beauty, and the slow-paced consideration of what I had been called into ministered to me in so many ways, "I am the beloved son of the most high God", "I am a beloved son, just as I am, not as I ought to be". Couple that with more realization that I had endless hours ahead of me for more of the same without interruption. Oh my, this Santiago was more than once moved to tears of gratitude. The natural rhythm of the day pulsed on and the sun's light began to fail, time to go back to my refuge and begin thinking about receiving the night.
As I sat in my rocker the thought of making a cup of tea entered my head. Now there was a foreign idea. Black coffee is how I normally roll. But now, the genteelness of tea seemed so appealing so I brewed a cup. As I sat rocking, gazing and getting lost in the wooded scene, I thought "Now is the time of day that deer come out and start moving." One thousand one, one thousand two and as if my Savior actually said, "You are correct my friend, watch this...", a small doe came into view ever so close. She was so herself, browsing along in her deer-like way, a picture of yet another part of the glorious creation. She exited stage left and as she left my sight line immediately on my right entered a spike buck onto this customized stage of life that had been so lovingly arranged for me. He was not so casual, he walked more as being on a mission and in no time he exited to the left. One thousand one, one thousand two and here comes the young deer lady, running for her life as if to say "Leave me alone you big brute!" And then all was once again calm and silent. Father had just produced a beautiful scene in a special drama for an audience of one and I continued to revel in being the beloved son.
As night came and my reading stopped, I enjoyed the simple food of my basket for that day. The bread I blessed and thankfully ate the fruit and some cheese. This day was ending, candles were lit and it would soon be time to experience the comfort of my single bed. This had been a day like no other. And oh my gosh, I had another 24 hours in the on-deck circle promising more time for being with no thoughts of doing but to be, to be, the beloved son of the name that is above every name in heaven, on earth and under the earth.
Sweet Jesus, from the bottom of my circumcised heart, thank you, thank you, thank you!
Saturday, November 9, 2013
44 Hours: Part 1
So, 66 years into this sojourn and the list of "first time I ever did this" is not being added to all that frequently. But last weekend was a glorious exception..... For some time I have wanted to go on a silent retreat but year followed year and it just wasn't happening. Until one morning, several weeks ago, I was looking at a series of questions for reflection at the end of a chapter of a book I was studying. I was literally wondering when I might find the time to actually do this when I just wrote this down : "Take this section to Pace whatever (I had forgotten the exact name of it) while Sandi is in Haiti." I then read what I had just written as though it was a note given to me by someone else which was precisely what had just happened. Father had just invited me to come along on an adventure and even gave me the timing of when it could occur. (I would like to say this is an everyday occurrence with me but it's just not.)
Within an hour I was on the phone making my appointment at Pacem in Terris. And last weekend I drove up for my 11:00 AM scheduled arrival time. It took a lot less time to get there than I had thought so I pulled over on a country road and attempted to start the process of slowing it all down. Gosh, I was so excited, so filled with anticipation. I kept checking my watch, eager to drive into this place set aside from the din and hue. At last, 10: 58 AM, just enough time to come in one or two minutes late (I wouldn't want them thinking I was too excited or anything!).
As I drove into the parking lot there were about a dozen cars. "Great, I suppose I am going to walk in to register and there will be a line...I hate lines." I walked up a bit of a winding path strewn with fallen leaves. All was ever so quiet. The sun was bright, the sky very blue, the wind calm. I entered into a beautiful large house into what has to be the most quiet place I have ever entered. My breathing alone seemed to be intrusive. The door opening rang a chime that broke the silence. Ha! No lines, no one at all, just tentative lil' ol' me pausing in the entry. Out comes a lovely young lady and she very warmly and quite softly says "You must be James." Suddenly it became apparent that I was embarking on something that had my name on it, I was welcome, let's take our time, arrangements have been made...wow, let the mesmerizing begin!
I believe her name was Tamara and she asked if we could chat a bit. There were several questions all aimed at getting an idea of how experienced I was at this, what was my background coming into this, what were my expectations. She gave me some idea of what to generally expect. She mentioned that I seemed very ready for this and was coming into it with what she believed was a healthy attitude (Heh, that's great to hear! My confidence just kicked up a notch!). She also planted a seed that produced fruit through the entire weekend. She said that as excited as I probably was to experience this type of solitude, Papa (my word, not hers) was even more excited to have uninterrupted time with me. Wow! What kind of story had I just stepped into here?
After a brief tour of the main house it was time to take me to my "hermitage". She met me at my car and we drove in the staff vehicle through the woods a short way to what was to be my home for the next 2 days. This was one of 16 identically built hermitages and mine was named after Saint Teresa of Avila. Tamara demonstrated the few things that needed to be mentioned...how to light the gas light mounted on the wall, how to light the gas burner to heat up water, the basic supplies in the closet. She wished me well, told me I would be prayed for and left. And there I was, surrounded by a deafening silence, looking out of a massive, squeaky-clean picture window into the fall-colored woods and so ready for whatever was to be. It was so quiet that even a mouse couldn't anonymously pass gas!
A large maple rocking chair with an afghan over the back, a crucifix, an open Jerusalem bible (to Psalm 23), an icon of Mary made it clear that this retreat center was of the Catholic persuasion. A tea kettle for heating water, a single bed, a closet complete with a flashlight, instant coffee and tea bags, some mugs, a fork, knife and spoon, a couple of plates, 2 spare votive candles, a set of fresh sheets, spare blanket and pillow, broom, dustpan, mop duster, walking stick, rain poncho, 3 hangers and a place to hang your clothes. I was also given a food basket that contained 2 apples, 2 oranges, 2 bananas, 2 small round loaves of bread, a hunk of cheddar cheese and a bran muffin. All this in a steep-roofed cabin about the size of a bedroom. Somehow the fact that there was just what was needed without one iota of excess ministered peace to me. Someone had intentionally outfitted these hermitages with just what was necessary and nothing more....Brilliant!
I unpacked the few things I had brought, sat on the edge of my bed and was ever so grateful for what seemed already prepared for me in advance.....I was officially now a hermit.
Within an hour I was on the phone making my appointment at Pacem in Terris. And last weekend I drove up for my 11:00 AM scheduled arrival time. It took a lot less time to get there than I had thought so I pulled over on a country road and attempted to start the process of slowing it all down. Gosh, I was so excited, so filled with anticipation. I kept checking my watch, eager to drive into this place set aside from the din and hue. At last, 10: 58 AM, just enough time to come in one or two minutes late (I wouldn't want them thinking I was too excited or anything!).
As I drove into the parking lot there were about a dozen cars. "Great, I suppose I am going to walk in to register and there will be a line...I hate lines." I walked up a bit of a winding path strewn with fallen leaves. All was ever so quiet. The sun was bright, the sky very blue, the wind calm. I entered into a beautiful large house into what has to be the most quiet place I have ever entered. My breathing alone seemed to be intrusive. The door opening rang a chime that broke the silence. Ha! No lines, no one at all, just tentative lil' ol' me pausing in the entry. Out comes a lovely young lady and she very warmly and quite softly says "You must be James." Suddenly it became apparent that I was embarking on something that had my name on it, I was welcome, let's take our time, arrangements have been made...wow, let the mesmerizing begin!
I believe her name was Tamara and she asked if we could chat a bit. There were several questions all aimed at getting an idea of how experienced I was at this, what was my background coming into this, what were my expectations. She gave me some idea of what to generally expect. She mentioned that I seemed very ready for this and was coming into it with what she believed was a healthy attitude (Heh, that's great to hear! My confidence just kicked up a notch!). She also planted a seed that produced fruit through the entire weekend. She said that as excited as I probably was to experience this type of solitude, Papa (my word, not hers) was even more excited to have uninterrupted time with me. Wow! What kind of story had I just stepped into here?
After a brief tour of the main house it was time to take me to my "hermitage". She met me at my car and we drove in the staff vehicle through the woods a short way to what was to be my home for the next 2 days. This was one of 16 identically built hermitages and mine was named after Saint Teresa of Avila. Tamara demonstrated the few things that needed to be mentioned...how to light the gas light mounted on the wall, how to light the gas burner to heat up water, the basic supplies in the closet. She wished me well, told me I would be prayed for and left. And there I was, surrounded by a deafening silence, looking out of a massive, squeaky-clean picture window into the fall-colored woods and so ready for whatever was to be. It was so quiet that even a mouse couldn't anonymously pass gas!
A large maple rocking chair with an afghan over the back, a crucifix, an open Jerusalem bible (to Psalm 23), an icon of Mary made it clear that this retreat center was of the Catholic persuasion. A tea kettle for heating water, a single bed, a closet complete with a flashlight, instant coffee and tea bags, some mugs, a fork, knife and spoon, a couple of plates, 2 spare votive candles, a set of fresh sheets, spare blanket and pillow, broom, dustpan, mop duster, walking stick, rain poncho, 3 hangers and a place to hang your clothes. I was also given a food basket that contained 2 apples, 2 oranges, 2 bananas, 2 small round loaves of bread, a hunk of cheddar cheese and a bran muffin. All this in a steep-roofed cabin about the size of a bedroom. Somehow the fact that there was just what was needed without one iota of excess ministered peace to me. Someone had intentionally outfitted these hermitages with just what was necessary and nothing more....Brilliant!
I unpacked the few things I had brought, sat on the edge of my bed and was ever so grateful for what seemed already prepared for me in advance.....I was officially now a hermit.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Sojourners = House Church (part 2)
Perhaps it is best to continue by giving a disclosure. I am a consumer-focused addict. It must be understood that any writing I do on this subject comes from one who is at best, a recovering, consumer- driven person. Somehow the picture of starting each Friday night house church by going around the room and introducing ourselves as "Hi, I'm Santiago, I'm a consumer-holic" is not as preposterous as it may at first appear. Many of us are plagued by an ongoing, continual dialogue in the back of our minds..."how is this going?", "how am I doing?", "am I delivering?", "am I getting anything from this?", "were my needs met tonight?".
The most diabolical effect of the consumeristic sea we swim in is that it supports one of the granddaddies of all lies ever foisted on us by our enemy who knows what we can become and fears us. "It's all about me". This lie encourages us to keep ourselves forever in the middle of the circle busily judging and sifting through each and every circumstance for what it might have for us and how it does/doesn't relate regarding our personal life gratification. But like the fish, who don't really notice the water, our self-orientation as discerning consumers is invisible to us. Nonetheless, when we step into our house church fellowship we each come with our 9th-degree consumer black belts complete with an invisible knapsack full of well-honed buyer tips and tricks.
OK, just what are we to do? We have tired of giving yet more years to pursuing our transformation into Christ-likeness via traditional church. For many of us there seems to be a law of diminishing returns from this approach, as goodhearted and well intended as it most certainly is. Instead we seek to be transparent, to know others, to be known, to serve, to speak into one-another's lives, to exercise love towards the often unlovable, to be willing to live sacrificially in community as a family whose blood runs thicker than water.
But as mentioned in (part 1), this type of effort is so inconvenient in so many ways and inconvenience is the first thing that any self-respecting consumer learns to avoid at all costs. I believe if we are to live as recovering spiritual consumers we will each be called on to embrace inconvenience. To embrace efforts that will come with apparent high-costs and to be intentional in being willing to pay those costs. To be willing to confront one another in love rather than just let relational poison go on having it's ugly way. To embrace disruptions to our busy schedules when there is a need that is lying in our path quivering and crying out. To be willing to journey along with others who may not reciprocate our tokens of friendship, to be willing to give more than we get, to hang in there longer than we might want, to listen longer than seems reasonable.
If ease of use, well-priced, easy to find and dependability are the gold standards of consumerism then inconvenience, personally expensive, disruptive and no guarantees are at least some of the ingredients of a consumer antidote that Sojourners may have to regularly toss back. If consumerism is rampant, pernicious and invisible we must band together as brothers and sisters to i.d. it when we find it's ugly head being raised amidst our community. We must be courageous and call it out for what it is starting with ourselves. Only with the help of each other will we begin the process of rooting it out and chaining it up.
We have all been crucified with Christ, buried with him and raised with him to his right hand in the heavenly places. He calls us into discipleship, where radical advice, including selling all that you have, is not necessarily uncommon. His aim is to mature us into the full stature of Christ and that maturing operates best within a small community where iron sharpens iron. As well-trained consumers, there is much in our way of pursuing this life that is problematic. But I can sometimes better see it in you and you can see it in me. I issue an open invitation to my fellow Sojourners to help me in my recovery as an uber-consumer. I can't do it alone...it takes a village and I am privileged to be walking along with one. Here's to our ongoing journey along the path of "I must decrease but he must increase"..........
Santiago,
Friend of Christ
The most diabolical effect of the consumeristic sea we swim in is that it supports one of the granddaddies of all lies ever foisted on us by our enemy who knows what we can become and fears us. "It's all about me". This lie encourages us to keep ourselves forever in the middle of the circle busily judging and sifting through each and every circumstance for what it might have for us and how it does/doesn't relate regarding our personal life gratification. But like the fish, who don't really notice the water, our self-orientation as discerning consumers is invisible to us. Nonetheless, when we step into our house church fellowship we each come with our 9th-degree consumer black belts complete with an invisible knapsack full of well-honed buyer tips and tricks.
OK, just what are we to do? We have tired of giving yet more years to pursuing our transformation into Christ-likeness via traditional church. For many of us there seems to be a law of diminishing returns from this approach, as goodhearted and well intended as it most certainly is. Instead we seek to be transparent, to know others, to be known, to serve, to speak into one-another's lives, to exercise love towards the often unlovable, to be willing to live sacrificially in community as a family whose blood runs thicker than water.
But as mentioned in (part 1), this type of effort is so inconvenient in so many ways and inconvenience is the first thing that any self-respecting consumer learns to avoid at all costs. I believe if we are to live as recovering spiritual consumers we will each be called on to embrace inconvenience. To embrace efforts that will come with apparent high-costs and to be intentional in being willing to pay those costs. To be willing to confront one another in love rather than just let relational poison go on having it's ugly way. To embrace disruptions to our busy schedules when there is a need that is lying in our path quivering and crying out. To be willing to journey along with others who may not reciprocate our tokens of friendship, to be willing to give more than we get, to hang in there longer than we might want, to listen longer than seems reasonable.
If ease of use, well-priced, easy to find and dependability are the gold standards of consumerism then inconvenience, personally expensive, disruptive and no guarantees are at least some of the ingredients of a consumer antidote that Sojourners may have to regularly toss back. If consumerism is rampant, pernicious and invisible we must band together as brothers and sisters to i.d. it when we find it's ugly head being raised amidst our community. We must be courageous and call it out for what it is starting with ourselves. Only with the help of each other will we begin the process of rooting it out and chaining it up.
We have all been crucified with Christ, buried with him and raised with him to his right hand in the heavenly places. He calls us into discipleship, where radical advice, including selling all that you have, is not necessarily uncommon. His aim is to mature us into the full stature of Christ and that maturing operates best within a small community where iron sharpens iron. As well-trained consumers, there is much in our way of pursuing this life that is problematic. But I can sometimes better see it in you and you can see it in me. I issue an open invitation to my fellow Sojourners to help me in my recovery as an uber-consumer. I can't do it alone...it takes a village and I am privileged to be walking along with one. Here's to our ongoing journey along the path of "I must decrease but he must increase"..........
Santiago,
Friend of Christ
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Sojourners = House Church (part 1)
Some months have gone by and our house church activities and participation have continued on. So many times people will ask, "How's house church?" Lots of curiosity.... I really never quite know what to say. As I look at why that is, I am struck with a bit of a picture. These last months have been spent on different "moving parts" such as best way to handle children, inter-personal challenges, growth, how best to divide, core group principles, best way to facilitate etc. I imagine a brick layer constructing a house. All day he focuses on portions of a wall or a doorway. If asked how he likes the house he too may be stumped and not have a short answer as the work is still so in progress. There is yet to be the perspective that comes from stepping back and appreciating what will someday be a more complete, well-functioning entity called a brick house.
Recently I had the opportunity to speak at what we call "learning community" which is the first Saturday of every month. Here, all the house church groups come together as one and we enjoy the company of those we now only get to see once a month. We enjoy a potluck, a teaching time and a time of worship and prayer. I love these nights together.
The overall house church effort at WH was celebrating it's one year anniversary at this particular learning community night. We were gathering to have a time to remember and I had prepared an overview of what we had learned. I likened the pre-classes we had all gone through prior to actually embarking into live house church as having Spanish lessons before we entered Mexico. But now things were different, we are now actually living in Mexico. It seemed good to take a quick overview of the principles and practices we had learned about which were now far more real and necessary in order to navigate the realities of Mexican life together.
There were two things that I mentioned as observations that I believe are some of the biggest ongoing challenges we face moving forward. My caveat was that these two items were not official- from- on- high, merely in my opinion. Nevertheless, they remain as critical in my mind and I have been encouraged to "un-pack" (why do I bristle at what I believe to be the overuse of this term in church circles?) them and blog away. It seemed a good and reasonable thing to do, I haven't blogged in months, I have noticed some rust on 500' Flyby and so.....Onward!
The first of the two challenges has to do with the consumeristic mindset that has pervaded Christiandom in these modern times. Without belaboring the supporting arguments for this too much, I will write as though this is more or less self-evident. Many have written about this elsewhere. Suffice it to say, I am a firm believer in this as a fact and see consumerism and our addiction to it as an ongoing hurdle as we pursue maturing our house church community. You may ask, "Why is this Kem-o-sabe?"
As we Sojourners have stepped away from the world of rows and chairs all facing a stage, from the world of passively sitting through a concert and a speech, of brief hellos and three-sentence catchings up in the lobby post-service (and calling it "fellowship") we have entered into a different approach altogether. One marked by a controlled size (15-30) to promote something approximating "doing life together" and practicing radical four directional love towards ourselves, each other, God and the world we live in. This effort is not for the faint of heart or, for that matter, for the overly-shy. It's a world where everyone is looked to for what they can bring to each meeting. We encourage transparency and participation in the messiness of all being on a sort of camping trip together with all of our wet, soggy stuff strewn all over the campsite.
The word 'radical' has been used regarding Jesus and what he came to do. No sane man would argue against the fact the the message and lifestyle of Jesus was radical. And as we seek to follow hard after him, we too bandy about that term 'radical'. And here is where consumerism weighs in and begs to differ. For each one of us participating in Sojourners is a well-honed consumer. We have been trained and fed from the troughs of the most consumer-driven nation ever conceived. We invented Madison Avenue! We have been blitzed by media images since we were toddlers and we have all become experts at knowing just what we would love to have, where best to find it, about how much it usually costs and where the best deals are to be had.
Overlay this addiction and our inability to see through anything but our eagle-sharp consumer eyes with the demands of the 'one-anotherings' of house church and you have a problem in River City folks. We have all learned to expect the features and benefits of our church to be just as satisfying to our personal lifestyles as our Keurig coffee makers are to our coffee needs. We look for where "our needs are met" and we are experts in judging the merits of the youth program, the style of worship, the pertinence of the pastor and a host of other items that float around as invisible score sheets in our heads.
But in house church everything is, comparably-speaking, inconvenient. There is no "they" to take our issues and complaints to, there is no map store where a previously plotted course can be found to guide our way. We have no one to send problem situations to for remedial work, for counseling or whatever fix-it seems to be called for....we are the bottom line. We create the needs/problems/situations and we get to deal/correct/balance/process those same situations. What normal consumer, educated in ease of use at every level, wouldn't rise up in a fit of "not meeting my needs" and march right out the door!
Imagine, when Jesus sent out the disciples he didn't let them bring an extra tunic...how amazingly inconvenient for their hot, dusty travels staying wherever they could find to stay. Just think of it, their counsel was to "take nothing for your journey, no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money: and do not have two tunics." Folks, that radical advice and direction has become very foreign to today's modern church. Our productions are top-notch, the bands of Grammy quality, studio lighting and sound, heh, our church doesn't live in the shadow of any secular competition! We have worked hard at being just as good as they are......
I don't know, perhaps this will need 2 blogs. It's just that I believe our addiction to consumerism runs so deep, is so invisible to ourselves, and is so potentially disruptive in our house church efforts. Geesh, every week and into the mid-week we Sojourners must deal with the realities of actually rubbing organic shoulders with other organic souls that are not necessarily our personally, hand-picked allies. We have been more or less thrown together. Much as the original 12 were put together. Oh sure, we share in the same common heart tugs that drew us away from the traditional way of "doing church". But heh, what's with this tax collector that shows up every week, and who is this zealot in our midst, and why does John always get to sit so close to Jesus? Where oh where is the fairness, when do I get it my way, just the way I like it, not too hot and not too cold?
To be continued......
Recently I had the opportunity to speak at what we call "learning community" which is the first Saturday of every month. Here, all the house church groups come together as one and we enjoy the company of those we now only get to see once a month. We enjoy a potluck, a teaching time and a time of worship and prayer. I love these nights together.
The overall house church effort at WH was celebrating it's one year anniversary at this particular learning community night. We were gathering to have a time to remember and I had prepared an overview of what we had learned. I likened the pre-classes we had all gone through prior to actually embarking into live house church as having Spanish lessons before we entered Mexico. But now things were different, we are now actually living in Mexico. It seemed good to take a quick overview of the principles and practices we had learned about which were now far more real and necessary in order to navigate the realities of Mexican life together.
There were two things that I mentioned as observations that I believe are some of the biggest ongoing challenges we face moving forward. My caveat was that these two items were not official- from- on- high, merely in my opinion. Nevertheless, they remain as critical in my mind and I have been encouraged to "un-pack" (why do I bristle at what I believe to be the overuse of this term in church circles?) them and blog away. It seemed a good and reasonable thing to do, I haven't blogged in months, I have noticed some rust on 500' Flyby and so.....Onward!
The first of the two challenges has to do with the consumeristic mindset that has pervaded Christiandom in these modern times. Without belaboring the supporting arguments for this too much, I will write as though this is more or less self-evident. Many have written about this elsewhere. Suffice it to say, I am a firm believer in this as a fact and see consumerism and our addiction to it as an ongoing hurdle as we pursue maturing our house church community. You may ask, "Why is this Kem-o-sabe?"
As we Sojourners have stepped away from the world of rows and chairs all facing a stage, from the world of passively sitting through a concert and a speech, of brief hellos and three-sentence catchings up in the lobby post-service (and calling it "fellowship") we have entered into a different approach altogether. One marked by a controlled size (15-30) to promote something approximating "doing life together" and practicing radical four directional love towards ourselves, each other, God and the world we live in. This effort is not for the faint of heart or, for that matter, for the overly-shy. It's a world where everyone is looked to for what they can bring to each meeting. We encourage transparency and participation in the messiness of all being on a sort of camping trip together with all of our wet, soggy stuff strewn all over the campsite.
The word 'radical' has been used regarding Jesus and what he came to do. No sane man would argue against the fact the the message and lifestyle of Jesus was radical. And as we seek to follow hard after him, we too bandy about that term 'radical'. And here is where consumerism weighs in and begs to differ. For each one of us participating in Sojourners is a well-honed consumer. We have been trained and fed from the troughs of the most consumer-driven nation ever conceived. We invented Madison Avenue! We have been blitzed by media images since we were toddlers and we have all become experts at knowing just what we would love to have, where best to find it, about how much it usually costs and where the best deals are to be had.
Overlay this addiction and our inability to see through anything but our eagle-sharp consumer eyes with the demands of the 'one-anotherings' of house church and you have a problem in River City folks. We have all learned to expect the features and benefits of our church to be just as satisfying to our personal lifestyles as our Keurig coffee makers are to our coffee needs. We look for where "our needs are met" and we are experts in judging the merits of the youth program, the style of worship, the pertinence of the pastor and a host of other items that float around as invisible score sheets in our heads.
But in house church everything is, comparably-speaking, inconvenient. There is no "they" to take our issues and complaints to, there is no map store where a previously plotted course can be found to guide our way. We have no one to send problem situations to for remedial work, for counseling or whatever fix-it seems to be called for....we are the bottom line. We create the needs/problems/situations and we get to deal/correct/balance/process those same situations. What normal consumer, educated in ease of use at every level, wouldn't rise up in a fit of "not meeting my needs" and march right out the door!
Imagine, when Jesus sent out the disciples he didn't let them bring an extra tunic...how amazingly inconvenient for their hot, dusty travels staying wherever they could find to stay. Just think of it, their counsel was to "take nothing for your journey, no staff, nor bag, nor bread, nor money: and do not have two tunics." Folks, that radical advice and direction has become very foreign to today's modern church. Our productions are top-notch, the bands of Grammy quality, studio lighting and sound, heh, our church doesn't live in the shadow of any secular competition! We have worked hard at being just as good as they are......
I don't know, perhaps this will need 2 blogs. It's just that I believe our addiction to consumerism runs so deep, is so invisible to ourselves, and is so potentially disruptive in our house church efforts. Geesh, every week and into the mid-week we Sojourners must deal with the realities of actually rubbing organic shoulders with other organic souls that are not necessarily our personally, hand-picked allies. We have been more or less thrown together. Much as the original 12 were put together. Oh sure, we share in the same common heart tugs that drew us away from the traditional way of "doing church". But heh, what's with this tax collector that shows up every week, and who is this zealot in our midst, and why does John always get to sit so close to Jesus? Where oh where is the fairness, when do I get it my way, just the way I like it, not too hot and not too cold?
To be continued......
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Life Story
So last night was house church. Such a sweet time...watching the evening orchestrated via a light facilitator's touch allowing Father to speak to us and minister. We are regularly giving time to have each person tell their life story, to better understand what all has gone into making each of the strands being woven into a glorious kingdom fabric.
Well, it was my turn last night. I approached the night with dread and angst. Behind these feelings was the conflicting pull of simultaneously yearning to be transparent while fearing that I would no longer be liked if I was. Thirty minutes to encompass, in my case, 65 years. Seems both reasonable and preposterous....certainly more of an espresso version than a 64oz Big Gulp!
In my time with Jesus this morning I was smitten by a couple of things. On one hand I am re-reading 1000 Gifts by Ann VosKamp. Listing my thanks has become a personal discipline since last April (#552) and it has been ever so good...building trust as I first notice, pause and appreciate, then give thanks for the myriad ways a loving Father shepherds me through my sojourn. The world scoffs at such things and incessantly encourages me to join in. But no, El Senor can be trusted, he indeed has my back and my hand in his is where it needs to be.
So, as I was saying, smitten. That's a pretty pungent word. It can be positive or negative (just ask the uncircumcised Hittites!). What got to me was the combination of reading powerful word combinations, seeing them unlock pearls of great price, coupled with flashes of my life story going on in my mind's background.
"Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me." That is just not true...another one of the deceiver's many lies put forth as truth. Words in fact can have a power that vies with the nuclear . They incite wars, dissolve marriages, they usher in healing and encourage others to summit their personal Everests. I am in awe of Ann's use of words and how they unlock and flesh out and poetically transport from darkness to light. I would love to be able to somehow send Ann into many situations/places to have her apply her word skills to bring to life the core of truth that there is be to be had.
Yes, words and my life story. Reflecting on a 30 minute, 500' flyby of the twists and turns called my life. Oh man, there is indeed a Hound of Heaven and a Wild Goose and my life is full of the evidence of their involvement, care, love and concern for me. Imagine that Santiago. You have been invited to the Triune dance and you get to move and participate and be loved and sustained by the very creator of whale songs and galactic star tones. Oh how I yearn to author words to describe my gratitude for the inexplicable grace of unconditional love and acceptance. Oh how I hunger to march in Father's army ministering words of life and freedom, calling out lies, tearing down strongholds and joining my Jesus in freeing the prisoners.
For I see that I have been freed. He says respond, respond! Oh give me words that might do justice to expressing my thanks Abba. You have seen me, you have kneeled down and picked me up, dusted me off and sent me back in. How can I express what screams from within? I let out a long, silent scream driven by what is unfathomable. I, the lowliest of saints (sorry, below you Paul!) have been called up and in. Up and in to co-reigning. Words, Father, words that for now escape me to even come close.....
I fold up my tent of effort and sit before you, at your right hand, where you have raised me up to dwell. I humbly surrender to the two best words that are mine to be had....Thank you!
Well, it was my turn last night. I approached the night with dread and angst. Behind these feelings was the conflicting pull of simultaneously yearning to be transparent while fearing that I would no longer be liked if I was. Thirty minutes to encompass, in my case, 65 years. Seems both reasonable and preposterous....certainly more of an espresso version than a 64oz Big Gulp!
In my time with Jesus this morning I was smitten by a couple of things. On one hand I am re-reading 1000 Gifts by Ann VosKamp. Listing my thanks has become a personal discipline since last April (#552) and it has been ever so good...building trust as I first notice, pause and appreciate, then give thanks for the myriad ways a loving Father shepherds me through my sojourn. The world scoffs at such things and incessantly encourages me to join in. But no, El Senor can be trusted, he indeed has my back and my hand in his is where it needs to be.
So, as I was saying, smitten. That's a pretty pungent word. It can be positive or negative (just ask the uncircumcised Hittites!). What got to me was the combination of reading powerful word combinations, seeing them unlock pearls of great price, coupled with flashes of my life story going on in my mind's background.
"Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me." That is just not true...another one of the deceiver's many lies put forth as truth. Words in fact can have a power that vies with the nuclear . They incite wars, dissolve marriages, they usher in healing and encourage others to summit their personal Everests. I am in awe of Ann's use of words and how they unlock and flesh out and poetically transport from darkness to light. I would love to be able to somehow send Ann into many situations/places to have her apply her word skills to bring to life the core of truth that there is be to be had.
Yes, words and my life story. Reflecting on a 30 minute, 500' flyby of the twists and turns called my life. Oh man, there is indeed a Hound of Heaven and a Wild Goose and my life is full of the evidence of their involvement, care, love and concern for me. Imagine that Santiago. You have been invited to the Triune dance and you get to move and participate and be loved and sustained by the very creator of whale songs and galactic star tones. Oh how I yearn to author words to describe my gratitude for the inexplicable grace of unconditional love and acceptance. Oh how I hunger to march in Father's army ministering words of life and freedom, calling out lies, tearing down strongholds and joining my Jesus in freeing the prisoners.
For I see that I have been freed. He says respond, respond! Oh give me words that might do justice to expressing my thanks Abba. You have seen me, you have kneeled down and picked me up, dusted me off and sent me back in. How can I express what screams from within? I let out a long, silent scream driven by what is unfathomable. I, the lowliest of saints (sorry, below you Paul!) have been called up and in. Up and in to co-reigning. Words, Father, words that for now escape me to even come close.....
I fold up my tent of effort and sit before you, at your right hand, where you have raised me up to dwell. I humbly surrender to the two best words that are mine to be had....Thank you!
Friday, October 19, 2012
Sweet Alignment
When we speak of the twists and turns of life there's hardly anyone who doesn't immediately understand what you mean. We're in this story, there are all these characters, we are one of them, whatever plot seems a bit fractured, elusive, but we press on with the faint belief that someday all will make a bit more sense. And this from a guy who knows the larger story, who knows I have been rescued and who believes I am a beloved son. Nonetheless, that does not seem to prevent the fog of war from often obliterating any clarity from the details of the daily scenes.
But I come today not to write quite about this...some days are different and yesterday was one of those. A day when all the balls were falling into there respective slots, when the lights all were timed to go green and I got to live in one of those rare hurricane eyes where it just wouldn't go wrong. It's like I don't even know how to handle it. I shout out my praises to Father, for sure. There is this inner move to look inside to see if perhaps I have somehow tripped across some magical formula...maybe in my reading, maybe in my prayer, my actions.
But alas, no such luck. It appears to just be an inexplicable day of grace for one who believes that there is more to this life than what we can normally see. Check this out.... the first nine months of 2012 have brought decidedly mixed blessings. There have been some great missions, some significant movements in church and family life. Yet all of the good has also been set against a backdrop of unparalleled downturn in ability to earn a living. One of those years where you go from your best year ever to your worst and the whiplash of it all wants to taint every scene of this movie I have been cast in.
So a couple of months ago, a wind came blowing across my plains which at least brought a number of new things to work on. That is good, but doesn't necessarily translate into income. Part of my downturn was a sharp decrease in project volume but part of it was also coming from "if it can go wrong it does". Nonetheless, thankful for things to work on, I did what anyone would do....proceed....limping perhaps....but proceeding.
As time has gone on the projects are maturing and coming nearer that time which would tell whether there was a lady or a tiger behind the door of each. My "chosen" field (I guess I chose it although reflection shows it was more of a default choice than a particularly deliberate one) is a crazy world of bringing this small candle flame, of which you have no real control, through a gauntlet of high speed fans and needing it to still be burning at the end. So, after running through a number of gauntlets, yesterday dawned.
As a backdrop you just have to be playing a scene from Caddyshack....Chevy Chase in a golf match on a day when nothing could go wrong. There he was putting from every conceivable angle with crazy antics and all the balls find their way into the cup. And you have to hear him saying "Na,na, na, na......na,na, na na...."
We come into yesterday with storm clouds everywhere. Daughter in Haiti, very ill with the child they are seeking to adopt with her and very ill. Two very ripe potential placements with all the signs of fast going south. A smart phone that suddenly decides to die and this for a guy who makes his very living on the phone. And just to totally round things off, a SD ally calls in the middle of the day, in desperation having just had to evacuate his house because of wild fire and a plea for prayer. Yes it's another day, with more fog, filled with more uncertainty and me, tapping my way along as a sojourner with his white cane (not the picture that a warrior in the King's army likes to necessarily have).
But as the day proceeds boo-freakin-yah!
Folks, I am beside myself...I don't really know how to behave with such lottery-winning days. Best thing I seemed to come up with was to take a walk in the dark and jump and shout out my thanks like a crazy man for anyone watching.
Boy, I wish I could bottle such circumstances up and put them into a pantry so that I had an everlasting see/touch inventory of blessing and provision. Oh, but he is not a tame lion....I understand. And oh, this is a war zone I am in...I understand. The bullets are real not rubber....I understand. Your Father has your back....I am improving in my understanding.
And as if all of this is not enough.....as I look up I can't help but see another scene. At night, driving by the airport you can look up and see a long line of headlights spanning way out in the distance of jets in their final approaches for landing. As the maraschino cherry on yesterday's delicious sundae, I have additional projects that also appear as bright headlights headed their way to Santiago's little landing strip.
Heh, I am headed for my rooftop, for all I can do is shout out my praises in this particular part of the movie! Praise you Father in good times and in bad!!!
But I come today not to write quite about this...some days are different and yesterday was one of those. A day when all the balls were falling into there respective slots, when the lights all were timed to go green and I got to live in one of those rare hurricane eyes where it just wouldn't go wrong. It's like I don't even know how to handle it. I shout out my praises to Father, for sure. There is this inner move to look inside to see if perhaps I have somehow tripped across some magical formula...maybe in my reading, maybe in my prayer, my actions.
But alas, no such luck. It appears to just be an inexplicable day of grace for one who believes that there is more to this life than what we can normally see. Check this out.... the first nine months of 2012 have brought decidedly mixed blessings. There have been some great missions, some significant movements in church and family life. Yet all of the good has also been set against a backdrop of unparalleled downturn in ability to earn a living. One of those years where you go from your best year ever to your worst and the whiplash of it all wants to taint every scene of this movie I have been cast in.
So a couple of months ago, a wind came blowing across my plains which at least brought a number of new things to work on. That is good, but doesn't necessarily translate into income. Part of my downturn was a sharp decrease in project volume but part of it was also coming from "if it can go wrong it does". Nonetheless, thankful for things to work on, I did what anyone would do....proceed....limping perhaps....but proceeding.
As time has gone on the projects are maturing and coming nearer that time which would tell whether there was a lady or a tiger behind the door of each. My "chosen" field (I guess I chose it although reflection shows it was more of a default choice than a particularly deliberate one) is a crazy world of bringing this small candle flame, of which you have no real control, through a gauntlet of high speed fans and needing it to still be burning at the end. So, after running through a number of gauntlets, yesterday dawned.
As a backdrop you just have to be playing a scene from Caddyshack....Chevy Chase in a golf match on a day when nothing could go wrong. There he was putting from every conceivable angle with crazy antics and all the balls find their way into the cup. And you have to hear him saying "Na,na, na, na......na,na, na na...."
We come into yesterday with storm clouds everywhere. Daughter in Haiti, very ill with the child they are seeking to adopt with her and very ill. Two very ripe potential placements with all the signs of fast going south. A smart phone that suddenly decides to die and this for a guy who makes his very living on the phone. And just to totally round things off, a SD ally calls in the middle of the day, in desperation having just had to evacuate his house because of wild fire and a plea for prayer. Yes it's another day, with more fog, filled with more uncertainty and me, tapping my way along as a sojourner with his white cane (not the picture that a warrior in the King's army likes to necessarily have).
But as the day proceeds boo-freakin-yah!
- Three placements happen! Ka-ching for a drought- filled cash register. Oh most merciful God!
- A report from Haiti comes in with news that the corner is turned, health has returned and little baby boy once again is squealing with delight.
- And yes sir, no problema, you had purchased coverage and we will have a new phone over-nighted to you and oh, here is a free loaner in the meantime.
- A follow up report from SD comes in...thank you for prayer support...a close call but all is now well.
Boy, I wish I could bottle such circumstances up and put them into a pantry so that I had an everlasting see/touch inventory of blessing and provision. Oh, but he is not a tame lion....I understand. And oh, this is a war zone I am in...I understand. The bullets are real not rubber....I understand. Your Father has your back....I am improving in my understanding.
And as if all of this is not enough.....as I look up I can't help but see another scene. At night, driving by the airport you can look up and see a long line of headlights spanning way out in the distance of jets in their final approaches for landing. As the maraschino cherry on yesterday's delicious sundae, I have additional projects that also appear as bright headlights headed their way to Santiago's little landing strip.
Heh, I am headed for my rooftop, for all I can do is shout out my praises in this particular part of the movie! Praise you Father in good times and in bad!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)