"What does it feel like to be alive?
Living, you stand under a waterfall. You leave the sleeping shore deliberately; you shed your dusty clothes, pick your barefoot way over the high, slippery rocks, hold your breath, choose your footing, and step into the waterfall. The hard water pelts your skull, bangs in bits on your shoulders and arms. The strong water dashes down beside you and you feel it along your calves and thighs rising roughly back up, up to the roiling surface, full of bubbles that slide up your skin or break on you at full speed. Can you breathe here? Here where the force is greatest and only the strength of your neck holds the river out of your face? Yes, you can breathe even here. You could learn to live like this. And you can, if you concentrate, even look out at the peaceful far bank where maples grow straight and their leaves lean down."


-From "An American Childhood" by Annie Dillard

I started (and never finished) writing this back in May. Our beloved sister Ora has since passed away.

There's something humbling about sitting with an older Christian woman who is suffering from cancer (and the horrible effects of cancer treatment), in severe pain, looking back on her life of over 70 years, and looking ahead to an unknown number of days on this earth.
Ora is one of those people that, when you spend time with her, you can tell has seen a lot, been through a lot and just keeps going. She maybe even has a lot she could complain about - but she doesn't. I don't know the details of her story very well - exactly how many children she raised, or grandchildren she guided and guarded, with her prayers and stubborn love - or exactly what types of jobs she worked before I met her, past retirement age, in a volunteer capacity. But I have come to appreciate her in whatever moments we share together, which have mostly been in the day to day tasks of running a food pantry, serving food and dignity to poor families of all kinds.
When I think of Ora, I think of strength, and power, and unfailing persistence in doing right and good. I'm sure many, if not all, who know her would call her a saint, an excellent model of what a woman can be, of who a follower of Christ ought to be. My own saintly mother has expressed how she is inspired by Ora. We laugh about the time a few of us took a prayer retreat, and meek Ora was so overwhelmed with gratitude and honor that we "let" her join us - while we all looked up to her and felt honored that she came! We had so much to learn from her. I still do.
That simple, pure, servant-like spirit still pervades Ora's life. Saturday when I saw her in her home, though saddened to see her weakened body, I was filled with joy just to be in her presence. I felt refreshed by her softly spoken words of welcome, and the thoughtful look in her eyes as she talked about her current situation. She amazed me when she said things like, "Well, here I am. I'm alive another day. I woke up this morning and said Thank you."
After reminiscing about the past 10 years of the Center of Hope's ministry, we prayed together. I'll never forget the words she spoke through her tears: "Thank you, Jesus, for letting me be a part of it."

Dreams and Nightmares

I've had some pretty crazy, unusually vivid and emotionally-compelling dreams lately. I definitely think dreams are connected to "real" life. Dreams are real. Are part of life. Anyway... Pastor Ryan read this prayer by Walter Brueggemann in church a couple Sundays ago and it really resonated with me. It's called "Dreams and Nightmares", from Prayers for a Privileged People.

Last night as I lay sleeping,
I had a dream so fair . . .
I dreamed of the Holy City, well ordered and just.
I dreamed of a garden of paradise, well-being all around and a good water supply.
I dreamed of disarmament and forgiveness, and caring embrace for all those in need.
I dreamed of a coming time when death is no more.

Last night as I lay sleeping . . .
I had a nightmare of sins unforgiven.
I had a nightmare of land mines still exploding and maimed children.
I had a nightmare of the poor left unloved,
of the homeless left unnoticed,
of the dead left ungrieved.
I had a nightmare of quarrels and rages and wars great and small.

When I awoke, I found you still to be God,
presiding over the day and night
with serene sovereignty,
for dark and light are both alike to you.

At the break of day we submit to you
our best dreams
and our worst nightmares,
asking that your healing mercy should override threats,
that your goodness will make our
nightmares less toxic
and our dreams more real.

Thank you for visiting us with newness
that overrides what is old and deathly among us.
Come among us this day; dream us toward
health and peace,
we pray in the real name of Jesus
who exposes our fantasies.

Celebrating St. Thomas, "The Doubter"

Adapted from William Bright, in The Divine Hours: Prayers for Autumn and Wintertime (Phyllis Tickle)

How often, Lord, your face has shone

On doubting souls whose wills were true!

You Christ of Peter and of John

You are the Christ of Thomas too.

He loved you well, and firmly said,

"Come, let us go, and die with him";

Yet when your Easter news was spread,

Mid all its light his faith was dim.

His brethren's word he would not take,

But craved to touch those hands of thine;

When you did your appearance make,

He saw, and hailed his Lord Divine.

He saw you risen; at once he rose

To full belief's unclouded height,

And still through his confession flows

To Christian souls your life and light.

O Savior, make your presence known

To all who doubt your Word and thee,

And teach us in that Word alone

To find the truth that sets us free.

Advent pick-me-ups

I struggle with holidays. The last couple Christmases I've been sick and/or depressed. Often on Easter I don't feel very alive, or very joyful. Advent is usually so busy that it's hard to remember what it's all about. This year, as my faith sharing group, pastor, and others have reminded me to look for where God is coming into the world every day, in little and big ways, I've instead become overwhelmed by all the ways I'm not seeing God. Sure, I can relate with the Old Testament prophecies about the need for a Messiah... I believe I can empathize with the people of Israel who were/are longing desperately for such a Savior... but looking at the way things are around me - in the world, in the church, even in my own struggles with sin and questions about evil - it makes me want to ask, "Really? The Messiah has come? Shouldn't things be different, then?"

So I'm wrestling with all of this, and it's not easy, but I've noticed some bright spots which I'll share here:

Putting up a Christmas tree in our apartment helped. (I'm infinitely grateful to my roommate for that!) Sitting by the tree and taking time to reflect helps.

A group of friends who came over the other night and shared about how they are experiencing Advent helped. We all share a passion for serving poor and broken people... the kind of people Jesus came to save, yes? ...and it helps me to be with them, hear their stories, lean on them for support, watch them for glimpses of hope.

This morning, Scripture helped. For some reason, I had Psalm 46:10 in my head so I decided to turn there - only, I went to Psalm 146 on accident, and read the entire Psalm before realizing it was different than the one I meant to read. But it's ok - both were helpful to me! Both are about the Lord being an abundant helper, reminding me that I can't live this life - this worshiper-and-disciple-of-Christ life - alone, in my own strength. Also, kind of a side note but what was also encouraging to me - about the verse "Be still and know that I am God...": in my version (which I've often noticed before) it says "Cease striving and know that I am God." Today I noticed that the word "striving" is in italics, which means that it has been added by translators. So, to take the verse literally, it says: "Cease and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." What is interesting to me is that the previous two verses are about the works of the Lord in the earth - essentially, putting an end to wars and violence. And then it goes right into God speaking for himself: "Cease". Not that I don't appreciate how I've always before understood this verse - that we as people should stop and be still and be aware of Who God is - but it makes me excited to think that God is talking to all the evil things going on in the world, and saying: Stop. I'm God, and I will triumph.

Another bright spot for me (anytime, not just in Advent) is spending time with children. Fortunately, this week, I've been able to do that every day. This afternoon I'll do it again, babysitting two three-year-old boys (yup, that should be fun!). It's easier to have hope when I'm with little ones.

I'll end this with some words my Mom wrote recently, which I'd like to share with anyone who, like me, has difficulty celebrating in the midst of a suffering world.

"I pray you all are enjoying Advent trusting God’s promises of righteousness, justice, and peace for our hurting world and our sometimes discouraged spirits, and living in the hope that God has something good in store for all in the future."

Because it's true, it's true - we have a Messiah in whom we can hope. I just need to be reminded often.

Well I haven't blogged much this semester, but that's how semesters go, right? - Too much going on to stop and write about it. :) (BTW, I'm very happy to be at a point in my life where I can again live by "semesters"... legitimately, that is... 'cause I always think in semesters, even when I'm not in school!)
But a few days ago I did stop and reflect... what can I take away from this semester so far? And I think one of the most important lessons I've learned has to do with time management/boundaries/saying yes and saying no/whatever you'd like to call it. It feels like I've forever been dealing with the tragic reality that I can't do everything I want to do. It's not possible. And, at least somewhat, I've finally accepted that. And I'm rolling with it. And I'm enjoying life, within my own limitations.
For example, even something as simple as getting enough sleep - which used to be a source of great anguish for me - has become one of the joys of life. It happened like this: One day I said I was tired (oh wait, I've said that 9 out of 10 days since I was in 7th grade), and my counselor asked if I'd gotten enough sleep. I told her: "I got 8 hours!" And she suggested that maybe 8 hours isn't enough. Maybe you need nine. And I balked, and I felt silly that as a grown person I might actually need to sleep an hour or more longer than the other productive people I know, and I finally realized that she's right. So, I started going to bed ridiculously early. (As I did, I thought of my college roommate... and my respect for her grew... it's not an easy thing to do!) And in a few days, I felt a m a z i n g ! And guess what - even though I had one less hour of the day to do things, during the hours I was awake I was obviously much more productive! And clearer thinking! And happier! Wow. Sleep is one of God's best gifts to us!
Speaking of God and rest... the other night in a restaurant with my family, I noticed a funny sign on the wall. It said "And on the seventh day... He ordered pizza." :) See, even God knows to take a break. Maybe not because he "needs" it, but because it's a good thing. So I challenge anyone who doubts the concept of Sabbath to think about all this. And hopefully you'll even try it, test it out, see if it's really worth it. I think it is.

Paradox: Strength in Weakness

One of my professors stated this week: "Paradox is holy ground." I guess that's true for psychology and theology (which are apparently my two areas of interest... right now, anyway:).

In the same class we were talking about Internal Family Systems (IFS) theory, and part of our homework assignment this week is to try to identify our "parts". (To briefly explain: IFS has concepts of an internal system, similar to an external system such as a family or church, in each person. So a person has different "parts" and also a "self" which is, ideally, able to interact with the different "parts" - especially when they get in the way or cause problems. Parts can be things like fear, anger, obsessions/compulsions, coping/controlling mechanisms, etc.)

So I did what any conscientious, first-year, overly-stressed, exhausted grad student would do: On my lunch break, I found a couch in a secluded area, lay down to rest, and wrestled with my different "parts." (We were especially encouraged to pay attention to "bodily sense" when locating parts... so it was fortunate that I had plenty of aches and pains to identify, and question what "parts" of me they were representing.)

Heeding the advice of my wise classmate Andy, I also invited Jesus to interact with me and my parts. (I don't know about anyone reading this, but as I'm writing this, and even at the time when I was doing it, this is about the time when I start feeling kind of silly. I'm talking to my parts? Jesus is in the room talking with us, too? Um, ok...)

I'm really glad I did this.

First of all, it was a very relaxing time and made the rest of my day a thousand times better. I didn't get too terribly far with the homework aspect, but I did identify some parts of myself that were hurting or stressed, and focusing on those helped me deal with some underlying causes.

Also, I started contemplating this ongoing struggle I have with being over-burdened out of good intentions. (I.e., I am so eager to love and serve God and other people, that I feel the responsibility of helping everyone and wish I could fix everything in the world. And that gets pretty discouraging.)

I thought of two scripture verses that I would consider quite significant:
The verse when Jesus says "Anyone who would come after me must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me." And the verse when he says, "Come to me all you who are weary... and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart... for my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

These verses create a paradox: To truly follow Christ means to be self-sacrificing and to endure some pretty difficult stuff (I don't think he meant the word "cross" in merely a symbolic way)... yet, Christ promises that sharing His burden will be easy (because, of course, he is the other one in the yoke).

So I wondered to myself, in the quiet of the room and in the midst of all my parts and in the awareness of Christ's presence with me in the moment, how can I live in this paradox? How can I be willing to take whatever comes in the way of following Christ, and yet follow him easily and be at rest in his presence? Because that is my problem - I get caught up in the burden and in denying myself and forget to rest (or find it difficult or seemingly impossible to rest).

Then I noticed which words in the verses I was focusing on. I was focusing on the cross - yes, I know, it will be difficult! it will require sacrifice! I am willing, even though I probably won't like it! - and I was focusing on the burden - is it really light? what kind of yoke is attaching me to Christ and to his burden?

I decided to try focusing on different phrases: "Follow me" and "come to me" and "learn from me." And that is when I thought, "My professor is right. This is holy ground."

Somehow, when we are following Christ for the sake of Christ, when we come to him just to be with him, and when we're willing to learn from him because of who he is... we end up denying ourselves and carrying crosses and yet finding the burden easy and finding rest for our souls.

A very personal example of this is the past week of my life. I have felt more weakness and weariness in this time than ever before in my life - and I have been more joyful and more determined to keep following Christ. I have found this particular kind of strength only in recognition of my deep need, and in relying and depending completely on him to literally get me through each moment of each day.


Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong. (II Corinthians 12:10)