We've never celebrated Lent with much intensity around here. I recall in high school possibly trying to "give something up" for Lent, and maybe I did something similar when we were first married. This year, however, I am in the midst of a Lent journey. We aren't doing special readings or following a Lenten calendar, but I have been inspired to fast from something. Also, as a friend insightfully pointed out, you can't put something off and not put something on in it's place. So, I am also trying to "put on", welcoming Him.
It's not that I'm using Lent as a habit making or habit breaking, 40 day crash diet. No, this time around, I see Lent as an opportunity to explore my cravings and my longings. I want to be hungry for Christ and immeasurably grateful on the day that we celebrate his glorious resurrection. In my mind, each time I chose to meditate on Christ and his sufferings, I am inching closer to that happy Sunday morning. I am making a deposit of yearning in the joy tank of my soul. I have another opportunity to die to self and live to Christ, saying "I need YOU." As my yearnings, longings, cravings, hungers increase over a short 40 days time, I am believing that the Holy Spirit will come and transform desires into ache for Him, the crucified one.
You see, I am simple, sinful, addicted. After the long list of synonyms used above, you might be led to believe that I'm really suffering, making myself battle with basic needs in the hope of enlightenment. No, it's much simpler than that. All I'm saying "no" to is sweets, desserts, sugar treats. But however simple and silly that may be, I'm opening the window of my soul to say "yes" to more of Him.
Although it hasn't been a monumental struggle, I have been spent at times. And the needy one cries out to God, saying "More! Please. I need you." Can there possibly be a better place to find yourself? I am enjoying saying "no", believing that the Father says "yes! I will fill you. I will help you. I am."
Eva mulled it over and decided to give up arguing. She has had to plead with her sister to stop inciting her to anger for the sake of her fast. It is a beautiful thing to see her desperate, and ultimately longing for the help of the Holy Spirit. We yearn together and talk together.
Most of the time, I am happy to not be eating sweets. Anyway, my brain is less foggy this way and my energy more even through the day. But each time I say, "I need you", I am looking forward to Easter. Forward to victory, to resurrection, to the day when we shall see Him face to face. Longing is good for me.
Here is my inspiration to fast this year.
Elizabeth writes a compelling tale.
Ann's words simultaneously sting and sweetly heal.
Showing posts with label spiritual things. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spiritual things. Show all posts
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
More deep things
***this is a continued post***
The moments continued. There were other words, other Scripture, other prayers. The Holy Spirit was moving in and out and between his people, allowing us a brief taste of the joys of paradise forever with Him. Allowing us to see Jesus better.
It came to me again, "We are small." Then the picture became clearer. Ecclesiastes. Life is meaningless. There is nothing new under the sun. We are small.
I spend all of Friday and Saturday in my head. Thinking, feeling, yearning. I want to understand! Why is it so important that I know that He loves me? Do I know that? Do I feel that? I feel blessed. Refreshed. Fortified. The Holy Spirit's presence and surprise giftings excite me. I am exhausted still, but I cannot nap. I can only think. pray. read more of His Word. I am drawn, the Holy Spirit is working in me, drawing me closer. I can't explain this longing for more. It is not natural to me. It is otherworldly... a taste of Glory.
Sunday morning brings family conflict and struggle. It also brings peace. In the presence of other believers, I feel rest. I let the words of the songs swell and wash over me. I watch my girl earnestly singing next to me, fighting to keep pace with young reading skills. She knows. She prays each night into her pillow, "Thank you for loving me, even when I disobey you." She has childlike faith. She knows she is small.
Our dear friend and pastor stands to preach his final sermon. With trembling voice, he begins to share his parting words for us. If he were to share just one thing, this is it.
And I was undone again. I sat next to my husband, tears falling on both of our cheeks. We're shaking. My view of my sin must be great. The view of Christ must be greater still! Again, "He. loves. us. We are small. He gave his son for us."
We stand with the congregation at the end singing, "Jesus Messiah. Name above all Names. Blessed Redeemer. Emmanuel. Rescue for Sinners. Ransom from Heaven. Jesus Messiah. Lord of All." Arms outstretched. Steady tears falling. Gasping for air. I am wrecked by this love. He has come hard after me in only a few short days. Why me? How can I know HIM more? How will he make me, small, wretched sinner, "the righteousness of God"? Why does he love us so?
All is grace.
The moments continued. There were other words, other Scripture, other prayers. The Holy Spirit was moving in and out and between his people, allowing us a brief taste of the joys of paradise forever with Him. Allowing us to see Jesus better.
It came to me again, "We are small." Then the picture became clearer. Ecclesiastes. Life is meaningless. There is nothing new under the sun. We are small.
"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternityHe loves us. We are small. he is BIG. He wraps us into his story. His redemptive story, which we cannot fathom. We are running after perfect houses, coordinating swimming lessons schedules, fluoride free toothpaste, matching picture-day outfits, new bathrooms. He is writing an epic story, transcending space and time, starting before the foundation of the world, the destination: HIM. I am undone.
in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from
beginning to end." (vs. 3:11)
I spend all of Friday and Saturday in my head. Thinking, feeling, yearning. I want to understand! Why is it so important that I know that He loves me? Do I know that? Do I feel that? I feel blessed. Refreshed. Fortified. The Holy Spirit's presence and surprise giftings excite me. I am exhausted still, but I cannot nap. I can only think. pray. read more of His Word. I am drawn, the Holy Spirit is working in me, drawing me closer. I can't explain this longing for more. It is not natural to me. It is otherworldly... a taste of Glory.
Sunday morning brings family conflict and struggle. It also brings peace. In the presence of other believers, I feel rest. I let the words of the songs swell and wash over me. I watch my girl earnestly singing next to me, fighting to keep pace with young reading skills. She knows. She prays each night into her pillow, "Thank you for loving me, even when I disobey you." She has childlike faith. She knows she is small.
Our dear friend and pastor stands to preach his final sermon. With trembling voice, he begins to share his parting words for us. If he were to share just one thing, this is it.
"For I decided to know nothing among you except Christ and Him crucified." (1He moves on to share the meat of his message from 2 Corinthians 5. Several bullet points, but I was unable to take any notes. For 45 minutes he gave fresh words to stale truths- I am calloused to the glory of the gospel! The righteousness of God, the wrath of God, the redeemed sinner, the ministry of reconciliation. The greatest weight of the sermon was on this point though,
Corinthians 2:2).
"For our sake he made him to be sin, who knew no sin, so that in him we
might become the righteousness of God." (2 Cor. 5:21)
And I was undone again. I sat next to my husband, tears falling on both of our cheeks. We're shaking. My view of my sin must be great. The view of Christ must be greater still! Again, "He. loves. us. We are small. He gave his son for us."
We stand with the congregation at the end singing, "Jesus Messiah. Name above all Names. Blessed Redeemer. Emmanuel. Rescue for Sinners. Ransom from Heaven. Jesus Messiah. Lord of All." Arms outstretched. Steady tears falling. Gasping for air. I am wrecked by this love. He has come hard after me in only a few short days. Why me? How can I know HIM more? How will he make me, small, wretched sinner, "the righteousness of God"? Why does he love us so?
All is grace.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Going a little bit deeper than "stroller derby"
I want to write about what God's been doing in my heart. But it's deep, and it's personal, and it's so important that I am afraid to write. Afraid the words will come out wrong. Or maybe they won't come at all. Or perhaps it will be one of those posts that just rambles on with no clear direction or cohesiveness. In this moment it's a risk I'm willing to take, so please bear with me. I blog because I think in narrative. It is good for me to put my stories out there, no matter what sort of quality my writing might be. This post has been writing itself in my head for a few days now, and I must let it live.
I've been reading good books lately and thinking about important things. Soul work. I am slowly softened, continually regenerated. The Holy Spirit comes and guides me, purposefully it seems, to the stuff I need to hear, need to read, need to savour. This past week, a new wind began to blow in my devotions. Tuesday night (Wednesday morning, really), I sat with glazed eyes and watched Eric and Aaron play their 1,000th game of Tetris that night. It wasn't mind numbing though- real conversation was happening. The men were talking, building each other up, this is the technology-age take on sitting in the boat fishin' and talkin' about nothin'. You know how guys have to DO something to bond. Anyway, finally Aaron announced that he really needed to go. He had to get up early for Ecclesiastes, to read it. He said, "It's kind of blowing my mind." I asked why, and he told me.
Next morning, I was sucked into Ecclesiastes too. Solomon had done it all. He was the wisest man to ever live. The richest man in the land, he travelled the known world and tried it all: women, food, drink, adventure, power, insight, pleasure. His final word on all of it- "There is nothing new under the sun." Ultimately, life is a breath. In the end, we all die. In the end, your Nobel Peace Prize is going to rot. Your banking empire will be handed down to someone who will squander it. Even your lifelong investment in training and loving your own children may be all for naught. Again and again, Solomon declares "This too is meaningless."
Slowly, so slowly I was getting a picture. A feeling. Ecclesiastes compelled me. Instead of feeling disheartened and despairing by the "meaningless" state of life, I was stable, steady, at peace. Wednesday morning, Thursday morning, I read and read. I drank in the repetitive nature of the book,
Extended prayer time wasn't fatiguing. There were heartfelt petitions for employment, healing, refreshing. Tears were poured and hearts were laid bare, desiring more. More from God, would the Holy Spirit come and meet us? A Brother believed that God was giving him a tongue for the Body. Yes, that. Speaking in tongues at a small group. I'd never heard it before, but I *we* believe that it isn't outside the realm of possibility. We are open, and so we prayed and invited the Holy Spirit and all His giftings, including discernment.
He prayed and we listened, silently asking for interpretation. Willing, but travelling uncharted waters. Like a child who looks to their parent, "Is this OK dad? I've never done this before.", looking for the assuring smile and nod from Father. I sensed that more was coming. The Holy Spirit was moving, washing through the room, coming over me with warm pressure. Scared, dependent, shaking, on the edge of a precipice of faith. We're not used to following. It still feels scary, bringing an unfamiliar rush. This feeling is distantly familiar, but it makes the breath catch in my throat each time. Then the interpretation came,
That was my voice, my tears. Those words were forced out, not by me. They had to be spoken. God was giving us a gift. My heart was stabbed through deeply. He wants to tell me that He loves me? That's it? Then in a moment of revelation, "It's that important that I we know that He loves us. And that we are small ." He gave the gift of a tongue and an interpretation to an unlikely audience. His message is important. I was struck through with the weight of this moment. A moment when, and just for a moment, we transcended the line between space and time, the mundane reality always at our fingertips and the invisible spiritual plane of glorification.
***to be continued***
***EDIT: After this post was read by a number of people who are far more educated than myself, my Senior Pastor pointed out that what I thought was the gift of interpretation of a tongue was probably the gift of prophesy instead. This doesn't make the evening less meaningful or negate the message. The only reason I post this edit is to help other believers deepen their understanding of the spiritual gifts and develop sound theology. Here is what my small group leader wrote in an email on this subject-
I've been reading good books lately and thinking about important things. Soul work. I am slowly softened, continually regenerated. The Holy Spirit comes and guides me, purposefully it seems, to the stuff I need to hear, need to read, need to savour. This past week, a new wind began to blow in my devotions. Tuesday night (Wednesday morning, really), I sat with glazed eyes and watched Eric and Aaron play their 1,000th game of Tetris that night. It wasn't mind numbing though- real conversation was happening. The men were talking, building each other up, this is the technology-age take on sitting in the boat fishin' and talkin' about nothin'. You know how guys have to DO something to bond. Anyway, finally Aaron announced that he really needed to go. He had to get up early for Ecclesiastes, to read it. He said, "It's kind of blowing my mind." I asked why, and he told me.
Next morning, I was sucked into Ecclesiastes too. Solomon had done it all. He was the wisest man to ever live. The richest man in the land, he travelled the known world and tried it all: women, food, drink, adventure, power, insight, pleasure. His final word on all of it- "There is nothing new under the sun." Ultimately, life is a breath. In the end, we all die. In the end, your Nobel Peace Prize is going to rot. Your banking empire will be handed down to someone who will squander it. Even your lifelong investment in training and loving your own children may be all for naught. Again and again, Solomon declares "This too is meaningless."
Slowly, so slowly I was getting a picture. A feeling. Ecclesiastes compelled me. Instead of feeling disheartened and despairing by the "meaningless" state of life, I was stable, steady, at peace. Wednesday morning, Thursday morning, I read and read. I drank in the repetitive nature of the book,
"Whatever is has already been, and what will be has been before; and God willThursday evening, we travelled to small group. It was "full group", and the plan was for extended prayer time. I considered my week, full of late nights and early mornings (Ecclesiastes included), and thought I might actually fall asleep for extended prayer time. I arrived nauseated with exhaustion and car sickness. But joyful. Joyful in the fellowship of other believers, trusting that God was there.
call the past to account." (vs. 3:15)
Extended prayer time wasn't fatiguing. There were heartfelt petitions for employment, healing, refreshing. Tears were poured and hearts were laid bare, desiring more. More from God, would the Holy Spirit come and meet us? A Brother believed that God was giving him a tongue for the Body. Yes, that. Speaking in tongues at a small group. I'd never heard it before, but I *we* believe that it isn't outside the realm of possibility. We are open, and so we prayed and invited the Holy Spirit and all His giftings, including discernment.
He prayed and we listened, silently asking for interpretation. Willing, but travelling uncharted waters. Like a child who looks to their parent, "Is this OK dad? I've never done this before.", looking for the assuring smile and nod from Father. I sensed that more was coming. The Holy Spirit was moving, washing through the room, coming over me with warm pressure. Scared, dependent, shaking, on the edge of a precipice of faith. We're not used to following. It still feels scary, bringing an unfamiliar rush. This feeling is distantly familiar, but it makes the breath catch in my throat each time. Then the interpretation came,
"He wants us to know that He loves us. He loves us. We are
small. But He loves us. He. gave. his. own. son. for us. He
loves us."
That was my voice, my tears. Those words were forced out, not by me. They had to be spoken. God was giving us a gift. My heart was stabbed through deeply. He wants to tell me that He loves me? That's it? Then in a moment of revelation, "It's that important that I we know that He loves us. And that we are small ." He gave the gift of a tongue and an interpretation to an unlikely audience. His message is important. I was struck through with the weight of this moment. A moment when, and just for a moment, we transcended the line between space and time, the mundane reality always at our fingertips and the invisible spiritual plane of glorification.
***to be continued***
***EDIT: After this post was read by a number of people who are far more educated than myself, my Senior Pastor pointed out that what I thought was the gift of interpretation of a tongue was probably the gift of prophesy instead. This doesn't make the evening less meaningful or negate the message. The only reason I post this edit is to help other believers deepen their understanding of the spiritual gifts and develop sound theology. Here is what my small group leader wrote in an email on this subject-
Becca Pat's words after the tongue was spoken was not an interpretation of the tongue, it was a gift of prophecy. How do we know that's true? If you read through 1 Corinthians 14:13-19, it describes the gift of tongues: "I will sing praise with my spirit....give thanks with your spirit". Reading directly from my notes from the Holy Spirit Seminar 2 months ago: "What are tongues? Speech directed towards God. Prayer or praise or thanksgiving to God.... The interpretation will always be prayer or praise or thanks to God. If not, it is not an interpretation."
Just thought I should clarify. Grace to you all!***
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