I am a control freak. I think I've always known this, but yesterday's sermon on "Confessions of a Control Freak" really hit home for me. I want to have some semblence of control over the important things in my life - a very human thing, to be sure. But I spend a lot of energy trying to get or maintain that feeling of control, and end up creating a lot of anxiety for myself. I hate the feeling of everything spinning out of control, being overwhelmed and not knowing what to do - and my tendency is to do everything in my power to fight against that.
But the truth is, I'm not in control. Let me repeat that, for myself: I AM NOT IN CONTROL. I can't control whether work will be slow or crazy or exhausting. I can't control the relationships in my life or my family. I can't control schedules (mine or other people's). I can't even control my moods or how I'm feeling most of the time.
It's a scary thing to admit this, but recognizing that we're not in control gives us a choice. Do I cling tightly, trying to make things go the way I want by sheer force of will? Or do I hold everything with open hands, releasing my compulsion to control and resting in the knowledge that there is One who loves me who is guiding each piece of my life and the lives of those around me? Clinging is the natural response, but trying to hold onto something that isn't ours to start with only creates frustration. But there is a freedom in letting go - we no longer allow the need to control control us. Rather, in offering back up to God all of the pieces of our lives, we trust that God is in control - and we don't have to be.
As I recognize my attempts at controlling as really a lack of trust, I must daily (hourly, minutely!) lay them down. My prayer is that I may grow and find freedom in a new kind of trust, by the grace of God.
"No Sacrifice"
Jason Upton
To you I give my life, not just the parts I want to
To you I sacrifice these dreams that I hold on to
Your thoughts are higher than mine
Your words are deeper than mine
Your love is stronger than mine
This is no sacrifice
Here's my life
To you I give my future
As long as it may last
To you I give my present
To you I give my past
Because
Your thoughts are higher than mine
Your words are deeper than mine
Your love is stronger than mine
Your thoughts are higher than mine
Your words are deeper than mine
Your love is stronger than mine
This is no sacrifice
Here's my life
Monday, November 28, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Learning what I need...and letting go of it
Today walking home from work, I had a moment of clarity. As my mind was processing through various things, the chimes from the big old church by 13th & Derry broke into my reverie - and immediately made me smile. What is it about that sound that brings me joy? I decided that it was a sign of God's faithfulness for me - an important reminder that God knows what I need even more than I do, and that there is enough in God's perfect provision.
This was an important reminder because lately I've been thinking a lot about what I need, and particularly my need for people. I get so energized from being with people, have a deep desire for connection, for understanding, to know and be known - all very human things, but I've been trying to figure out what to do with this. I've finally been able to legitimize this to myself - learning to say that yes, it's ok to need people! But I've realized that in validating this to myself, I can't hold onto it too tightly - like anything, I must hold it with open hands, offering it back up to God.
It is God who truly knows what each of us needs better than we can ever know ourselves - and the amazing thing is that one way God chooses to provide for our needs is through one another, the broken and imperfect people that we are. Learning how to take care of eachother is hard, and I think a life-long journey - because it means that even as I am discovering more of what I need, I must also lay that down and seek to put what you need first.
But it works, because as we better understand ourselves and eachother, we can be cared for while caring for others, and it's a beautiful thing - a God thing, because ultimately it is God who cares for us and meets our needs, much more perfectly than we ever could.
This was an important reminder because lately I've been thinking a lot about what I need, and particularly my need for people. I get so energized from being with people, have a deep desire for connection, for understanding, to know and be known - all very human things, but I've been trying to figure out what to do with this. I've finally been able to legitimize this to myself - learning to say that yes, it's ok to need people! But I've realized that in validating this to myself, I can't hold onto it too tightly - like anything, I must hold it with open hands, offering it back up to God.
It is God who truly knows what each of us needs better than we can ever know ourselves - and the amazing thing is that one way God chooses to provide for our needs is through one another, the broken and imperfect people that we are. Learning how to take care of eachother is hard, and I think a life-long journey - because it means that even as I am discovering more of what I need, I must also lay that down and seek to put what you need first.
But it works, because as we better understand ourselves and eachother, we can be cared for while caring for others, and it's a beautiful thing - a God thing, because ultimately it is God who cares for us and meets our needs, much more perfectly than we ever could.
Monday, August 29, 2011
On the winds of Change...and being Rooted
Yesterday was the first day this summer that I had to pull out a sweater to keep from being chilly. Last night was the first night that I wore socks to bed to keep my toes warm. You can feel it in the air - the weather is changing, fall is coming. Perhaps it is too convienent to equate the changes in seasons with the shifts in our own lives, but right now it seems to fit. I find myself in a period of letting go of some of the things that have been, and preparing to embrace the new things that are coming. No, I'm not changing jobs or getting married or moving, but significant life changes are happening for those closest to me - all of them exciting, all of them good, but also for me, a little bit scary. As one who prefers stability and needs time to process things through, too much all at once can make me start to panic. But then I must remember - change is not the enemy to be warded off or resisted, change is part of the natural rhythmn of life. Like a river there are ebbs and flows, but it never stands still - and yet in its motion that is what creates a constant.
As I sat down by the Susquehanna yesterday in the wake of the storm, the wind was whipping the river into little frothy waves and tossing the bushy vegetation about wildly in every direction. Sometimes I feel like those small plants, being pushed and pulled back and forth in every direction - entirely dependant on which way the wind is blowing. But then I looked up and noticed a tall tree, standing strong. Although its leaves and smaller branches were being swept back and forth, the sturdy trunk and thicker branches barely moved. I want to be like that tree - swaying gently and bending with the gusts, but having a core that is unshaken. I know that only comes out of a solid rootedness in the life-giving Source, the One who is unchanging. And I know it takes years of growth to get there, and I have a long way to go. But by the grace of God, I pray that I will be less shaken by the big life changes or the small day-to-day fluctuations - and allow myself to dance with the winds and the waves that do come.
And as I start pulling out warmer clothes and picking pumpkins from the backyard, I will offer thanks for what has been, and what's to come ("Seasons" by Nichole Nordeman).
As I sat down by the Susquehanna yesterday in the wake of the storm, the wind was whipping the river into little frothy waves and tossing the bushy vegetation about wildly in every direction. Sometimes I feel like those small plants, being pushed and pulled back and forth in every direction - entirely dependant on which way the wind is blowing. But then I looked up and noticed a tall tree, standing strong. Although its leaves and smaller branches were being swept back and forth, the sturdy trunk and thicker branches barely moved. I want to be like that tree - swaying gently and bending with the gusts, but having a core that is unshaken. I know that only comes out of a solid rootedness in the life-giving Source, the One who is unchanging. And I know it takes years of growth to get there, and I have a long way to go. But by the grace of God, I pray that I will be less shaken by the big life changes or the small day-to-day fluctuations - and allow myself to dance with the winds and the waves that do come.
And as I start pulling out warmer clothes and picking pumpkins from the backyard, I will offer thanks for what has been, and what's to come ("Seasons" by Nichole Nordeman).
Saturday, July 16, 2011
of death and life...
Death and life. Grief and celebration. Despair and hope. How can a single night encompass all of these seemingly conflicting notions?
At the Heeding God's Call rally/witness against gun violence yesterday, we mourned the death of an 18-year-old young man, shot and killed this week in our neighborhood. He would've been a senior this fall. I've been to my share of rallies, and the songs and words are always meaningful, but this one was different. As we marched down Crescent St. yelling "what do we want?" "PEACE" "what do we need?" "JUSTICE" the words caught in my throat as we came to the boy's house. Dozens of his family members, friends, and neighbors were gathered, covering the family's porch and spilling out onto the sidewalk. You could see the sharp pain of grief in their faces, as they clung to eachother, and cried, and remembered. The service we held with them was brief, singing hymns, offering prayers, coming together to offer what small comfort and solidarity that we might be able to.
But as we stood there, shoulder-to-shoulder with the people who knew this man, something in me broke. This was suddenly no longer a news article, a statistic, a political or ideological issue - this was REAL. The awful reality of someone being snatched from those who love him hit me, and I cried - for them, for their grief that I couldn't even understand, but could see so clearly. For him, for the life that he wouldn't get to finish. For the unfairness of it all. For the absolute helplessness I felt.
People said different things to try to make sense of what is senseless. "These kids need jobs." True. "You gotta be saved by the blood of Jesus." True. "You can't take the funding from schools." True. "Gotta get the guns off the streets." True. It's all true, but there is no one answer - it's all of it, everything. Kids have to have access to good education, have to have opportunities for jobs, need to be encouraged and supported at home, need to have Jesus change their hearts and their lives. And we do need to get the guns and the drugs off the streets - but this couldn't be about a political platform or a call to conversion, not in the midst of a family's grief. None of that would bring their son, their brother, their friend back. The most valuable thing we could do was be there, crying and praying with them as Jesus would, as our hearts were breaking.
Filled with a deep sadness, I left there to go to the Joshua Farm's 5-year celebration. As I arrived, some folks were putting primer up for a mural. The field was bursting with life, multitudes of thriving vegetables and fruit and flowers everywhere. People were everywhere, enjoying the delicious snacks made from the farm's produce, sharing good conversations with old friends or new acquaintances, and admiring all the good things the farm embodies. Kids were running around, and wonderful music drifted from the live band playing. There was so much joy in that place, and I couldn't help but smile and laugh and marvel at God's goodness in it all. This was where there was life, and in abundance. And so I celebrated - the hard work of dear friends who run the farm, the good people coming together over it, the music - the food - the laughter - the kids, it was all so good, and I was so grateful to be there to share in it, to bear witness to God's goodness.
This joyous event does not negate the pain of a life lost, but nor are they totally divorced from eachother. The Joshua Farm works with at-risk youth in the community, providing jobs and teaching skills, as they provide fresh, affordable produce to the community. So I have to believe that there is hope yet. That on the same night we mourn a death, we are also celebrating life. And that God is there, weeping and rejoicing with us.
At the Heeding God's Call rally/witness against gun violence yesterday, we mourned the death of an 18-year-old young man, shot and killed this week in our neighborhood. He would've been a senior this fall. I've been to my share of rallies, and the songs and words are always meaningful, but this one was different. As we marched down Crescent St. yelling "what do we want?" "PEACE" "what do we need?" "JUSTICE" the words caught in my throat as we came to the boy's house. Dozens of his family members, friends, and neighbors were gathered, covering the family's porch and spilling out onto the sidewalk. You could see the sharp pain of grief in their faces, as they clung to eachother, and cried, and remembered. The service we held with them was brief, singing hymns, offering prayers, coming together to offer what small comfort and solidarity that we might be able to.
But as we stood there, shoulder-to-shoulder with the people who knew this man, something in me broke. This was suddenly no longer a news article, a statistic, a political or ideological issue - this was REAL. The awful reality of someone being snatched from those who love him hit me, and I cried - for them, for their grief that I couldn't even understand, but could see so clearly. For him, for the life that he wouldn't get to finish. For the unfairness of it all. For the absolute helplessness I felt.
People said different things to try to make sense of what is senseless. "These kids need jobs." True. "You gotta be saved by the blood of Jesus." True. "You can't take the funding from schools." True. "Gotta get the guns off the streets." True. It's all true, but there is no one answer - it's all of it, everything. Kids have to have access to good education, have to have opportunities for jobs, need to be encouraged and supported at home, need to have Jesus change their hearts and their lives. And we do need to get the guns and the drugs off the streets - but this couldn't be about a political platform or a call to conversion, not in the midst of a family's grief. None of that would bring their son, their brother, their friend back. The most valuable thing we could do was be there, crying and praying with them as Jesus would, as our hearts were breaking.
Filled with a deep sadness, I left there to go to the Joshua Farm's 5-year celebration. As I arrived, some folks were putting primer up for a mural. The field was bursting with life, multitudes of thriving vegetables and fruit and flowers everywhere. People were everywhere, enjoying the delicious snacks made from the farm's produce, sharing good conversations with old friends or new acquaintances, and admiring all the good things the farm embodies. Kids were running around, and wonderful music drifted from the live band playing. There was so much joy in that place, and I couldn't help but smile and laugh and marvel at God's goodness in it all. This was where there was life, and in abundance. And so I celebrated - the hard work of dear friends who run the farm, the good people coming together over it, the music - the food - the laughter - the kids, it was all so good, and I was so grateful to be there to share in it, to bear witness to God's goodness.
This joyous event does not negate the pain of a life lost, but nor are they totally divorced from eachother. The Joshua Farm works with at-risk youth in the community, providing jobs and teaching skills, as they provide fresh, affordable produce to the community. So I have to believe that there is hope yet. That on the same night we mourn a death, we are also celebrating life. And that God is there, weeping and rejoicing with us.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Bringing the Kingdom
Inspired by a wise and committed neighbor and friend, my thoughts turn to community once again. This is something that has been on my mind and my heart a lot these last several months, and I am reminded again of this burning desire for radical community life that extends beyond the four walls of our house or the confines of our circle of friends and embraces the people here in our neighborhood and brings them into fellowship together. I want to love the people God has placed me in close proximity with – but who I often feel worlds apart from. You can’t love people from a distance, and you can’t love people without knowing them. I want to know and be known in this place – and learn what it means to love despite seemingly insurmountable barriers – of race, class, and gender; or of busyness, routine, and complacency.
I have a vision of people of different races, languages, ages, backgrounds, and genders coming together around a shared table, children breaking the ice with their games and laughter, conversations starting, connections being made, stereotypes breaking down, relationships being formed – and God’s Kingdom coming in the midst of it.
I’m not naïve, and this isn’t going to magically happen just by willing it. Although we cannot force it, we do have to make an effort. Because the whole point is that these aren't the kind of relationships that will just happen – with all of the barriers our society has constructed, it’s become very natural and easy to keep to ourselves and be with people like us. Breaking out of that to reach out to those very different from us is not the norm – but it should be a marker of God’s upside-down Kingdom.
The how and when I don’t know, but what I do know is that this has to be part of what we do and who we are if we’re going to call ourselves the Body of Christ…otherwise, what are we doing?
------------------------------------
"Kingdom Comes" - Sara Groves
When anger fills your heart
When in your pain and hurt
You find the strength to stop
You bless instead of curse
When doubting floods your soul
Though all things feel unjust
You open up your heart
You find a way to trust
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
When fear engulfs your mind
Says you protect your own
You still extend your hand
You open up your home
When sorrow fills your life
When in your grief and pain
You choose again to rise
You choose to bless the name
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
In the mundane tasks of living
In the pouring out and giving
In the waking up and trying
In the laying down and dying
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
May it be so. AMEN.
I have a vision of people of different races, languages, ages, backgrounds, and genders coming together around a shared table, children breaking the ice with their games and laughter, conversations starting, connections being made, stereotypes breaking down, relationships being formed – and God’s Kingdom coming in the midst of it.
I’m not naïve, and this isn’t going to magically happen just by willing it. Although we cannot force it, we do have to make an effort. Because the whole point is that these aren't the kind of relationships that will just happen – with all of the barriers our society has constructed, it’s become very natural and easy to keep to ourselves and be with people like us. Breaking out of that to reach out to those very different from us is not the norm – but it should be a marker of God’s upside-down Kingdom.
The how and when I don’t know, but what I do know is that this has to be part of what we do and who we are if we’re going to call ourselves the Body of Christ…otherwise, what are we doing?
------------------------------------
"Kingdom Comes" - Sara Groves
When anger fills your heart
When in your pain and hurt
You find the strength to stop
You bless instead of curse
When doubting floods your soul
Though all things feel unjust
You open up your heart
You find a way to trust
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
When fear engulfs your mind
Says you protect your own
You still extend your hand
You open up your home
When sorrow fills your life
When in your grief and pain
You choose again to rise
You choose to bless the name
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
In the mundane tasks of living
In the pouring out and giving
In the waking up and trying
In the laying down and dying
That's a little stone that's a little mortar
That's a little seed that's a little water
In the hearts of the sons and the daughters
The kingdom's coming
May it be so. AMEN.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
What is Love?
I was reading bedtime books to some of the dear children in my life on Thursday, and was surprised by the wisdom I found in a Clifford story. As a puppy, Clifford kept hearing people using the word "love" in different contexts but was trying to figure out what it meant. "I love you" - "I love playing with you" - "I love when people fill my food bowl" - what was this thing called love? But by the end, as his owner/best friend Emily Elizabeth is holding him and scratching him under the chin, she says "I love you, Clifford" - and he realizes, love is this happy feeling of being with people who care about you.
It's true, and I've felt that a lot lately. The last few days I've been surrounded by the important people in my life, and have felt so loved as dear friends celebrated my birthday in so many wonderful ways. Love is revealing and celebrating the beauty we see in eachother. Love is talking and listening to the deep things on our hearts. Love is simply being together, not needing words at all. Love is laughing until our stomachs hurt - and then laughing some more.
Love isn't only happy feelings, though. Love is being there in the hurts and heartbreaks, sharing the tears and trials that life brings. Love is carrying those things for eachother and with eachother - things that we cannot fix, but that we can bring to Jesus together. Love is caring for one another even when we don't know how.
Love is being there - sharing in the joys and the sorrows and everything in between. We all have our highs and lows, our excitements and frustrations. We won't feel good all the time - but part of the beauty of community is coming together with our conglomeration of feelings and experiences (good and bad) and being real with eachother, even when it's not pretty. In doing so, we allow eachother to enter in and be Jesus to us. And that is the best gift of all.
It's true, and I've felt that a lot lately. The last few days I've been surrounded by the important people in my life, and have felt so loved as dear friends celebrated my birthday in so many wonderful ways. Love is revealing and celebrating the beauty we see in eachother. Love is talking and listening to the deep things on our hearts. Love is simply being together, not needing words at all. Love is laughing until our stomachs hurt - and then laughing some more.
Love isn't only happy feelings, though. Love is being there in the hurts and heartbreaks, sharing the tears and trials that life brings. Love is carrying those things for eachother and with eachother - things that we cannot fix, but that we can bring to Jesus together. Love is caring for one another even when we don't know how.
Love is being there - sharing in the joys and the sorrows and everything in between. We all have our highs and lows, our excitements and frustrations. We won't feel good all the time - but part of the beauty of community is coming together with our conglomeration of feelings and experiences (good and bad) and being real with eachother, even when it's not pretty. In doing so, we allow eachother to enter in and be Jesus to us. And that is the best gift of all.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Things that give me Life
I am reminded of the things that God has placed in my life that make me feel most alive and good and at peace with myself and the world. I too easily forget about them at times, but this week I was reminded of them in abundance.
1) Connecting with people - Sharing deep conversations about the things that are on our hearts and listening to and encouraging one another is such a beautiful expression of community that fills me like nothing else.
2) Celebrating - Being caught up in joy over the special and the ordinary is so important, letting belly laughs and ridiculousness work as medicine to revive the soul.
3) Playing with children - Spending time with kids never fails to lift my heart, make me laugh, and help me appreciate the little things in life.
4) Walking around my neighborhood - Walking the streets and alleys of what some would call an abandoned place is always therapy, where I find beauty and joy in what is and see hope in the possibilities for what could be.
5) Dreaming about the future - Contemplating the bigger dreams that God has placed on our hearts amidst the day-to-day routine gives me renewed excitement and inspiration for the Kingdom that is coming.
6) Being present and in touch with God - Taking time to simply be with God and allow God to change my heart grounds me and helps me find freedom from the things that hold me down.
When I recognize these as things that I need and strike a good balance of them in my life, I feel most alive and fully myself and I am better able to be what others need. I want to live in such a way that I intentionally seek to cultivate these life-giving experiences as part of my everyday, while also learning to not be dependent on them.
1) Connecting with people - Sharing deep conversations about the things that are on our hearts and listening to and encouraging one another is such a beautiful expression of community that fills me like nothing else.
2) Celebrating - Being caught up in joy over the special and the ordinary is so important, letting belly laughs and ridiculousness work as medicine to revive the soul.
3) Playing with children - Spending time with kids never fails to lift my heart, make me laugh, and help me appreciate the little things in life.
4) Walking around my neighborhood - Walking the streets and alleys of what some would call an abandoned place is always therapy, where I find beauty and joy in what is and see hope in the possibilities for what could be.
5) Dreaming about the future - Contemplating the bigger dreams that God has placed on our hearts amidst the day-to-day routine gives me renewed excitement and inspiration for the Kingdom that is coming.
6) Being present and in touch with God - Taking time to simply be with God and allow God to change my heart grounds me and helps me find freedom from the things that hold me down.
When I recognize these as things that I need and strike a good balance of them in my life, I feel most alive and fully myself and I am better able to be what others need. I want to live in such a way that I intentionally seek to cultivate these life-giving experiences as part of my everyday, while also learning to not be dependent on them.
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