Visit me over here. . .

Sorry to those of you who have been missing recent posts. I guess I wasn't clear enough that I was permanently changing domain names. Please come and visit me at www.hearingtheheartbeat.com.

Too old to carry?

Of all the pieces in the Zimsculpt exhibition, this one touched me most deeply. Who among us has not seen someone tell a child, “You’re too heavy for me to carry you. You’ll have to get down and...

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Beating on the chest of God

I felt like a frustrated two year old held by her father, wailing and beating my little fists against his ribs. “Where were you, God? . . .

I'm trying out a new site. Please come and read the rest of my post here for today.

Why we must sing

Into yesterday’s questions, yesterday’s glimpse of poverty and inability to praise, God speaks through a woman who has asked the same questions. 

"I know there is poor and hideous suffering and I’ve seen the hungry and the guns that go to war. But I have lived pain and my life can tell: I only deepen the wound of the world when I neglect to give thanks for early light dappled through leaves and the heavy perfume of peonies in June and the song of crickets on summer humid nights and the rivers that run and the stars that rise and the rain that falls and all the good things that a good God gives.

How does it save the world to reject unabashed joy when it is Joy Who saves us? Rejecting joy to stand in solidarity with the suffering doesn’t rescue the suffering. The converse does.

The brave who focus on all things good and all things beauty and all things true, even in the small, who give thanks for it and discover joy even in the here and now, they are the change agents who bring fullest Light to the all the world.” 

Ann Voscamp ~One Thousand Gifts, A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are

And so today I give thanks. I still feel the pain of yesterday’s sidewalk-dwelling fellow image-bearers. But it doesn’t stop me from praising. It makes it all the more essential that I do.

Today I celebrate the God of the impossible. The God who is able to do more than we ask or imagine. The One who stepped into the pain and felt it himself so he could exchange despair for hope.

This is the Extravagant Giver who does not stop at essentials but pours out blessing upon blessing, a whole sky-full of one lavish canvas after another, the show changing every moment for more than an hour.

And I sing because he is not oblivious to the state of the world. He weeps with the poor. But he knows that evil will not have the last word. Love will. And so he paints beauty and declares hope and shouts his love and I must too.

So I sing to this Lavish Lover who calls us to give and then gives it all back and tells us to use it to host a party with him and the poor at the center.

Be sure to set aside a tenth of all that your fields produce each year. Eat the tithe of your grain, new wine and oil, and the firstborn of your herds and flocks in the presence of the LORD your God at the place he will choose as a dwelling for his Name, so that you may learn to revere the LORD your God always. But if that place is too distant and you have been blessed by the LORD your God and cannot carry your tithe (because the place where the LORD will choose to put his Name is so far away), then exchange your tithe for silver, and take the silver with you and go to the place the LORD your God will choose. Use the silver to buy whatever you like: cattle, sheep, wine or other fermented drink, or anything you wish. Then you and your household shall eat there in the presence of the LORD your God and rejoice. And do not neglect the Levites living in your towns, for they have no allotment or inheritance of their own. (Deuteronomy 14:22-27)

I sing because nothing is too hard for him, and one day all that is wrong will be set right and there will be no more tears or sorrow or homelessness.

More of the endless gifts:

Never ending Love-paintings in the sky

Faithfulness new every morning

Hope in the darkest of places

Hearts that can hurt and heal and beat with His heartbeat

Being called to share his life

The promise that all will be made new.

When your heart breaks for the broken

This morning I planned to write of God’s lavish generosity. Now I cannot. 

I passed too many broken people on the street on my way home. Two slouched against a wall, cardboard signs proclaiming fragments of their stories. An old man sprawled near the crosswalk, useless legs angled awkwardly beneath him. A stooped grandfather paced, weeping, pleading with passersby for just a few cents. Most did not raise their eyes from the pavement, spirits and bodies broken from years of neglect and abuse. 

"He defended the cause of the poor and needy . . . . Is that not what it means to know me?” declares the LORD. (Jeremiah 22:16)

How different, this, from our comfortable ideas of what it means to know God.  I cry out to know God, to hear his heartbeat. Today he shows up not with warm comfort but with a summons into lives and places I fear to go. His heart, which beats rest and peace and generosity, beats for all. It beats justice and love and hope and righteous anger and it beats that this homelessness and hopelessness is not how things were meant to be. Every person should know they are special. Every one should belong.

I cannot hear the heartbeat of God unless I am willing to go where it can be heard. He walks among the desperately needy. When I refuse to follow, fearing the disclosure of my own desperate poverty, his heartbeat fades into the distance. I long to know God, to hear his heartbeat and have mine beat in time with his. . . yet still I freeze when I walk past someone sitting on the scrap of pavement they call home.

Our worlds are so far apart. I don't know how to connect. What does it mean for me - an introvert who struggles with meeting new people no matter who they are, a person with a disability that prevents me standing for more than a few minutes, a resident of a large western city – what does it mean for me to defend the cause of the poor and needy?

I don’t know yet.

I do know that the enormity of the need is overwhelming. Thankfully, I am not asked to care for all. Hope comes through healing relationships, and I cannot befriend everyone.

God does not ask me to befriend everyone. But he does call me to see each person as one who bears his image, however tarnished it might be.  Every image bearer, whether a friend, a checkout clerk, or someone living rough, deserves certain simple courtesies: a smile, a kind response to their words, an acknowledgement of their presence. With time, maybe I can even learn to speak a gentle greeting first. And I can always whisper a prayer to the only One who can restore their health and freedom, to the only One able to heal the fear that keeps me from reaching out.

I can ask God to help me see them as he sees them, to see myself as he sees me. To help me remember how little difference there is between us.

I can refuse to shut out the pain. I can continue to listen for God’s heartbeat, allowing the longing for justice and hope to grow.  I can choose to follow the sound of his heartbeat, though I do not know where it will lead.

Today, that is all that He asks.

How to receive the gift of your life

Recently a statement in a secular magazine caught my eye.  It spoke of the importance of practicing acceptance and gratitude in living well with limitations. 

It made me think.  How does one practice gratitude if one does not believe that God gives all good gifts? Whom does one thank? And what does it look like to practice acceptance as a follower of Jesus Christ? 

I have intentionally practiced gratitude much more than acceptance.  I am a fighter. I do not give up easily. Acceptance can feel too much like resignation, an acknowledgement of defeat.  Or like fatalism – “this is the way it is and there’s nothing I can do about it so why try?”  How can I live in eager expectation of God's intervention while accepting the reality of what is? It's that word, “reality,” that helps me see. In the moments when I long to practice obstetrics again, it’s hard to keep reality in view. My mind wanders in its own little world, “Maybe if I just worked a couple of half days a week. . . maybe if there was a position that didn’t require night call or surgery. . . maybe. . .”

But the reality is that God is Truth. He works within and through the truth. He always starts from where we actually are, not from where we wish we were. Healthy, God-centered acceptance faces the facts – both the human limitations of our situation and the power of God’s grace to work all things together for good in ways we can't imagine.

Mere resignation to my illness would mean giving up hope. Acceptance, a stronger, truer act, is not passive, not merely giving up or giving in, but actively embracing reality in the hope of what God will do in the midst of it. Acceptance lives within my limits, not fighting them. It delights in the gift of space to listen to God’s heartbeat rather than resenting my inability to listen to babies’ heartbeats. Instead of feeling inadequate because I need help, acceptance frees me to receive and enjoy the community God provides. 

Acceptance is not merely “coming to terms with something” but is the “act of willingly taking a gift” or the “agreement to an invitation or offer.” (MS Word dictionary)  I have a choice. I can cling to dreams of an unreal life and miss the gift of the present. Or I can embrace the life held out to me, receiving with it the God of Truth who delights in working through weakness and bringing beauty out of brokenness.

If I spend all my energy hating the fence and wishing to return to the time when it did not surround me, I'll fail to see it as the perfect place to plant sunflowers.

“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. 

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” (Isaiah 43:18-19)

  

Acceptance is gratitude's sister. Being grateful for daily grace-gifts helps me see the beauty in the life offered to me now. It's hard to fight something when you see Love's fingerprints all over it. 

Care to join me in embracing whatever shape of life-gift God is holding out to you today?

“See, I set before you today life and prosperity, death and destruction. . .  Now choose life, so that you and your children may live and that you may love the Lord your God, listen to his voice, and hold fast to him. For the Lord is your life.” 

(Deuteronomy 30:15, 19-20)

When you wonder if God is holding out on you

He hugs me tight, holding me close a second longer as though he wants to send his gentle strength with me. Before he speaks goodbye to me he speaks over me, speaks about me to Another, words of blessing, of love, of hope and trust. He has given me so much, this precious father of mine. But this is the greatest of all, this blessing in which he places me into the arms of another Father, this moment when earth and heaven merge and I hear the blessing that since creation has been spoken over humankind now spoken over me, spoken this time through the familiar voice of my father. Two fathers, both blessing, the one through the other.

Among the first words spoken when this world was new were words of blessing. The startling statement comes right after the repeated “Let there be”s, and before the commissions and command.

“God blessed them.” (Gen 1:28)

It is among the first things we learn about this Other. He is a blessing God, one who delights to give, to love, to embrace, to cherish.  How is it that I still fear complete surrender to these arms which long only to bless?  Why do I still hold back when he reminds me that he holds nothing back from me?

“He who did not withhold his own son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else?” (Romans 8:32)

Have I been so awed by the power of the One whose words birthed us that I have failed to hear the gentle heartbeat of love that conceived us? Or perhaps I have focused on the commands and failed to see that they are an overflow of the blessing, an invitation to be so drawn into the center of the blessing that we become part of the blessing.

Or perhaps, along with the first humans (and every one since?) I have fallen for the lie that God is holding out on us, keeping back the best, holding us down instead of lifting us up. Of course, few of us would state it so bluntly. But is it not that subconscious fear that causes us to ask “why?” when we lose our health or career or someone we love? Is that not the reason behind our anxiety when life feels unpredictable and out of control? Why should I need to be in control if I am confident that I am safe in the arms of a Father who longs to bless?

How can I learn to live in the truth that God is a God who blesses, rather than continuing to live in the lie so ingrained in us since the fall? I can start by listening to the longing in the voice of the One who calls in a myriad of ways. Yesterday it was through a waiting elevator when I was running late, through a golden clouded love note written in the sky. Today He calls through Brian Doerksen’s “Song for the Bride”:

RETURN TO ME - SONG FOR THE BRIDE

(Isaiah 30:15) 

From the ancient days until today I have inspired prophets and poets And at the heart of every message Are these three words Return to me I am your Creator – Return to me I am your Redeemer; Your Father – return to me I am your husband – return to me

I have longed to hold you in my arms

And take all of your fear away

I will take your filthy rags and make them clean

If you receive my love, if you will receive my love

Return to Me            and hear my Spirit say

In repentance and rest            is            your            salvation

In quietness and trust            is            your            strength

Today may we each take our place with the rest of creation listening to the heartbeat of the One who waits and calls and pours out blessing upon blessing, longing for us to notice.

When the skies speak

The heavens proclaim the glory of God

The skies display his craftsmanship.

Day after day they continue to speak;

night after night they make him known.

They speak without a sound or word;

their voice is never heard.

Yet their message has gone throughout the earth,

and their words to all the world.

(Psalm 19:1-4, New Living Translation)

When you’re down on yourself

When we were children, if Dad caught one of us doing something we shouldn’t have been doing, he would often frown and say “grrrrowwwllll.” He spoke gently, never raising his voice, but we knew that we had better stop what we were doing.

Now sometimes I hear the Life-giving Lion gently growl at me through the pages of Scripture. His growl is a warning, but not a fearful one. It is a warning that moves me in the direction of Life, breathing love and peace and joy over me even as he growls. Today I hear the healing growl in Romans 8:33-34.

“Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus who died - more than that, who was raised to life - is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us.”

These verses picture God as the Judge and Jesus as the defense attorney. I am the defendant.

But far too often, I find myself stepping into the seat of the prosecutor. “That was so stupid. I can’t believe you did that!” “You’re so selfish. Lazy too. Maybe if you’d just try harder. . .” “Will you ever learn from your mistakes?” “Just look at yourself. How can God ever use someone like you?”

Not content to be the prosecutor, I even try to take the position of judge, declaring myself guilty and handing down a sentence.

Into this unruly crowd of one, the True Judge speaks, reminding me that there are enough prosecutors without taking that position myself. And there is only One qualified to judge.

The Lion’s gentle growl reminds me that the verses from Romans 8 speak not merely of the inability of others to charge or condemn me. They speak also to my tendency to step into the seat of prosecutor and judge. “Who do you think you are, to condemn yourself, when I have declared you righteous?” God alone has the right to make the final call. And, incredibly, it is God who justifies.

I could not have a better defense attorney. Since the time when he stepped down to serve the death sentence himself, he does not leave his place, a continual presence reminding the Judge, the prosecutors, and the defendant (should I care to hear), that the maximum sentence has already been served and the defendant can no longer be held liable.

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1)

May you, too, know the freedom of being merely the defendant, and the joy of hearing the Defense Attorney and the Judge declare you no longer guilty.

How Grace speaks into places of woundedness

This week I am grieving the loss of colleagues. Some have been wounded before. This time they paid the ultimate price as they shared in Christ’s sufferings.

Many of my friends have suffered. One lives with constant noise from eardrums damaged in a blast. Another has worked through extreme emotional trauma. Still another finds the mind struggling to meet weekly expectations as it labors and slows under the too long, too heavy years. Even Spirit-filled people have bodies of dust. Minds, too, can only labor so long under extreme burdens without being affected.

I think of each of these colleagues. And I wonder how many bear not only the physical wounds but the heavier weight of shame and frustration.

I have felt it. The shame of weakness and inability to help with daily tasks. The frustration of needing to schedule daily naps and exercise rather than being able to spontaneously respond to the needs of others. Self-accusations of wimpiness, selfishness, laziness. “Maybe if I just tried harder. . .”

Into these places of shame Grace speaks. His wounds touch ours, connecting our pain, our weakness, the rejection and hurt and dis-ease that we have experienced with his. His hands honor us, lifting us up, reminding us that it is His marks that we bear in our bodies.

Today He reminds me through Paul. This man who was beaten and imprisoned, rejected and starved of food and sleep was not ashamed of his wounds. He wore his scars boldly as honorable battle wounds.

“Finally, let no one cause me trouble, for I bear on my body the marks of Jesus.” (Galatians 6:17)

And so a word to my hurting colleagues: The weakness that haunts you, the wounds you continue to bear as a result of your service are not signs of failure. They are not shameful. They are honorable wounds, marks of courage and endurance and union with Christ in His death. By His grace, you have willingly followed Him to places where you have been injured.

Today may Grace speak freshly into the places of pain, enabling you to wear your scars confidently as marks of a fight well fought, a cross carried, a privileged participation in Christ’s sufferings for the sake of his body.

How to live freely

I feel their fingers again, fingers of resentment and tight-fistedness squeezing the life out of joy and generosity. Why do I feel I have to carefully guard every moment, every penny, every ounce of energy, when You, Abba, are such an Extravagant Giver? Do I fear that you will decide to stop being generous? All that I give  is such a small portion of what you have lavished on me. Do I think I have to hoard what You have given in case You don’t give again? But You are not fickle like my heart. It is Your very nature to give lavishly. Can I not trust You in this?

“He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all, will He not also along with Him graciously give us all things?”

I think of the story a friend recently told me from Sleeping with Bread by Dennis Linn. People working with orphans in post World War II Germany found that even once these starved orphans were given new homes with plenty of food, they were unable to sleep, fearful that there would not be food for the following day. They could not sleep until they were given a piece of bread to hold onto while they slept. Then, reassured that there would be food for tomorrow, they slept soundly.

I am learning that giving thanks for the extravagant gifts helps me to rest in God’s character and know that He who is my Provider will not stop providing. He will not stop loving. I can rest, confident that the One who has provided so lavishly for today will provide for tomorrow as well.


A few of the many blessings:

long Sunday afternoon naps

the smell of frying onions

mushroom sandwiches

a bright red tank top in my size on the clearance rack

Taize songs

Regent bookstore sales

flute and violin duets

a multiethnic group of small children delightedly chasing pidgeons

a leisurely walk along the sea wall

being followed by a Canada goose

sunsets reflected in the water

Listening through Lament

We listen best in silence. But sometimes we can’t reach stillness. The noise in our own hearts is too great. The longings, the fears, the disappointments, the anger overwhelm our ability to rest. How then do we listen? In these times, we listen through lament. Then it is through our own crying out that we most clearly hear and share the pain in the heart of God.

In our culture that seeks to drown pain and reaches for pleasure at all costs, we miss hearing the somber tones in the heartbeat of God. Certainly His heart beats the bright tones of joy and the soft tones of peace and the strong tones of love. But joy is borne of sorrow, and love hurts, and the heart of God also beats the deep tones of lament.

“Rejected by His people, hounded by a hopeless sense of separation from the ones He loved the most - the Lord shared these feelings with His young shepherd king. David would lament them again and again to God, as God would lament them through David. Lament became a bridge between them. They would cross it again and again in their loneliness and find each other.” (Michael Card, A Sacred Sorrow, p. 68)

In lament, we hear and share the pain in the heart of God. The pain of separation. The longing for presence and oneness. We affirm with God that this is not how things should be. When we deny ourselves permission to lament, we cut ourselves off not only from our own hearts, and from those around us, but also from the heart of God.

As we lament our sin, declaring our inability to repair the problems in us and around us, the kingdom of God comes near. Sorrow breaks through into praise. The One who himself laments disrupted relationship draws near to comfort and restore. And we hear the Heartbeat that speaks the final Word of Love.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” (Matthew 5: 3-4)

The Choosing to Feel

God,
sometimes it feels so hard
it seems that all our love
all our attempts to help
are rebuffed

Sometimes I wonder
why do we even bother?

Wouldn’t it be easier
to close our eyes to the pain
to choose not to see
not to love
and thus not to feel the hurt ourselves?

• • • • •

It started well                                                                                  Gen 1
pure love
complete intimacy
perfection

delight in creating
satisfaction in the created
“It is good”                                                                                     Gen 1:31

desire                                                                                             Gen 1:26
to share the enjoyment

then . . .

loneliness as you looked for your friends?                                        Gen 3:8-9
hurt at their hiding from you. . .
at the maligning of your motives?                                                     Gen 3:2-5

grief at the so-rapid destruction of your joyfully created beauty?
anger at the Evil that had done this. . .                                              Gen 3:14
the twisting of your words. . .
the deceit?

the murder of one you loved                                                            Gen 4:4, 10
rising violence and wickedness until
only evil, evil, evil
evil thoughts, evil actions                                                                  Gen 6:5

and for you
as you watched
deeper and deeper grief
intolerable pain                                                                                Gen 6:6

the decision to extinguish                                                                  Gen 6:7
all of your ruined creation
to wipe out
the evil
and hence the pain

• • • • •

Another decision
a choice                                                                                           Gen 9:9-17
a promise

the decision to never again
so completely destroy
even ruined creation

the choice to feel
to love

the promise to continue in relationship
despite the risk of pain

• • • • •

too soon
more desperate hurt
a vying for your place                                                                       Gen 11:4

again a choice
a promise
not only to keep loving
but to bless                                                                                      Gen 12:3
all nations

All.

All those you had just scattered in punishment                                   Gen 11:6-9
and protection

• • • • •

Love
tenderness                                                                                        Is 63:15
yearning                                                                                           Jer 31:20

hurt
grief                                                                                                  Jer 3:19-20
anger                                                                                                Ps 95:10
                                                                                                        Deut 32:19
longing                                                                                              Is 30:18

rejection                                                                                            Deut 32:15-18
as time and again                                                                               Is 53:3
those you loved so passionately
those you chose
also chose . . .

a lifeless, worthless substitute                                                             Jer 2:11-13
over the living, life-giving You

Again and again
a choice
to keep feeling
keep loving
the love and the pain
inseparable

“What can I do with you?”                                                               Hos 6:4
. . . yet “How I can I give you up?”                                                   Hos 11:8

“And he could bear Israel’s misery no longer”                                   Judg 10:16
“His heart was filled with pain”                                                          Gen 6:6
“Enough!”                                                                                         2 Sam 24:16

So often seemingly too much to bear
. . . yet
. . . the choice

Again and again
judgement

but always too a reaffirmation
of the choice

to keep feeling
to keep loving
to open yourself to the certainty of more pain
more tears

Indescribable grief                                                                             Matt 26:38
desertion                                                                                           Matt 27:46
rejection                                                                                            Matt 27:22
intolerable pain                                                                                  Luke 22:44
alone in your death.

• • • • •

“Take up your cross”                                                                         Matt 16:24
that instrument of pain

The same choice

To follow me                                                                                     John 15:12-13
you must choose to feel
the pain that comes with loving

There is no other way.                                                                       Luke 14:27
 

When you feel defective. . .

I am brought up short by the question of Psalm 139, “Do you think of yourself as God’s artwork, his masterpiece?”

All too often I criticize myself for lack of energy, for inability to respond quickly and fluently, for. . . just about anything. I see myself as defective, not “wonderfully made.”

Why, Abba?

Have I been brainwashed by the world which values physical beauty and productivity, riches and small talk and ability to think quickly and work intensely more than relationship and stillness and joy? Do I, like the world, fear limitation and equate weakness with deficiency, failing to see from the perspective of the cross?

Is there a part of me that sees myself as self-made? “Yes, life is a gift, but I have also achieved through hard work and self-discipline.” . . . And then when the results don’t match the world’s standards, do I suffer the cracking of pride, feeling ashamed because I have failed in my self-creation project?

To live in sync with who we truly are means to recognize that we are dependent on God for our very breath and are graced with many good things; it means to be grateful to the giver and attentive to the purpose for which the gifts are given. (Miroslav Volf, “Free of Charge,” p. 36)

It means to recognize that the details of each personality are hand-chosen, gently woven with ultimate wisdom and tender care into the depths of our souls.

So, on this Multitude Monday, I’m celebrating the gifts of personality, those gifts placed deep into each by loving hands.

I’m celebrating my extrovert sister who connects easily and gives extravagantly and can hold many people in her heart and make each feel special by her way of celebrating them.

I’m celebrating a friend’s clear view of concrete reality, her common sense and quick action that gets things done.

And I’m enjoying the hidden treasures of introversion, the stillness that likes space and hates rush, that treasures “richness” over “muchness,” that sees beyond what is to what might be.

God knew we need both. We need extroversion to keep us connected, to help us celebrate and feast and enjoy life’s extravagance that God pours upon us. And we need introversion to help us appreciate the depth of the hidden reality into which we’re invited, to be able to hold ideas and let them grow and develop until they are ready to be born. Each of us is a different blend of the two. And each expresses a small part of God’s nature that encompasses all.

 

All is gift. My friend’s ability to fearlessly pick up the phone and get things done is gift. My comfort with silence is gift.

There is freedom in receiving all as gift. For when all is gift, I can appreciate the beauty in myself without pride. It is nothing I have done, nothing I have earned. It is sheer gift. I discover myself free to love the beauty in someone else without comparisons. I can admire my sister’s ability to speak freely, and I can accept my own struggle to find words, recognizing that too as part of the gift, the gift that calls me to listen and think and answer from the place of stillness.

Listen. When you hear that critical voice, see if you can also hear the voice of the Father reminding you that he likes the way he made you.




Today I'm writing in community. If you would like to read other thoughts on the endless gifts, click on the button above.

At the Center of Love’s Circle

Today we welcome a new little girl.

We celebrate life’s mystery and wonder. . . Who is this tiny being? What will she love? How will she dream and dance and change her little part of the world?

I am awestruck at the thought of being entrusted with a life to love and tend and help to discover who she is. What did the Father imagine as he knit her together? What special treasures did he bury for her to discover and share? What dreams did he plant? What longings inspire?

And I wonder. . . How do you help a child delight in her beauty and uniqueness without nurturing self-centeredness?

You do it as God does: lavishly celebrating who she is. . . and then helping her see the treasure in others too.

The little girl twirls into the room, all frills in her white sundress.

“Daddy, didn’t Jesus make me beautiful?”

“Yes he did, Treasure. And precious, and wonderful and I love you so much!”

And I see the circle of Love that puts us each at the center. The Mighty God begins the celebration. It starts quietly, gently, whispering private delight. A special name. Secret thoughts just for her. The little girl is held close, quieted, renewed in his Love. She snuggles in. The singing begins, soft at first then rising, swelling, as she is lifted high, celebrated and enjoyed and cherished. She is his, a true masterpiece. She bears his mark, reflects his image in a way like no other. She is loved. Loved! By the One at the center of the universe. The dance goes on and on, drawing her deeper into Love. And as the Mighty One sets her down, she becomes part of the Circle of Love drawing others in and lifting them up to see who they are.

“Isn’t it fun to know you are beautiful? How can we help your friend know she is beautiful too?”

“My soul, bless God,

don't forget a single blessing! . . .

He crowns you with love and mercy — a paradise crown.

He wraps you in goodness — beauty eternal.

He renews your youth — you're always young in his presence.”

(Psalm 103:2-5, the Message)

Congratulations, Jon and Katie and Liam. Welcome, precious little girl.

My favorite reason to rest

It never ceases to amaze me how I can turn almost anything into a burden. A new adventure, a new call, however exciting, can feel heavy when I take it into my own hands.

I’m not alone.

“Then they despised the pleasant land, having no faith in his promise.” (Psalm 106:24)

Why, when God calls me out of Egypt to the promised land of rest, do I complain about the trip, looking back to predictable slavery rather than forward to offered freedom? Why, when invited to lay my head on Jesus’ breast and listen to his heartbeat, do I persist in making do lists?

In my work, my most common complaint has been the pressure to “do,” to work faster and longer and accomplish more. Buried beneath the complaint lies a longing for space to listen to my Abba’s heartbeat and live in tune with it. But too often I have lived out of a sense of responsibility rather than response-ability. Too often I live according to perceived expectations rather than choosing to live at a pace that makes room for that which is most important to me. Why? Why do I do this? I fear that my life won’t matter, that I won’t make a difference. Ironically, in living out of that fear, I fail to respond to the call placed deep within to become who I am created to be, and thus miss out on the only way I can really make a unique and beautiful difference!

Why does God in his mercy call us to rest?

He made us. He does not forget that we are weak and fragile, and constantly needing refreshment in every level of our beings to live well.

He commands rest, too, as a reminder, a sign.

“. . .the Sabbath. . . will be a sign between me and the Israelites forever. . .” (Ex 31:16-17)

A sign of what?

"Say to the Israelites, 'You must observe my Sabbaths. This will be a sign between me and you for the generations to come, so you may know that I am the LORD, who makes you holy.” (Ex 31:13)

"Keep my Sabbaths holy, that they may be a sign between us. Then you will know that I am the LORD your God." (Ezek 20:20)

Rest proclaims God’s being and doing as ultimate. God does not ask us to carry the burdens of the world - or even of making ourselves perfect. God carries the world’s burdens. He carries us.

And it gets better. My favorite reason to rest is that it brings God glory. I have often treated rest like a mere necessity to gain strength to get on with doing the things through which God can really glorify Himself. But God glorifies Himself not just through the work that He does in and through us, but through the rest that He provides for us:

"Like cattle that go down to the plain, they were given rest by the Spirit of the LORD. This is how you guided your people to make for yourself a glorious name." (Isa 63:14)

Entering into God’s gift of rest glorifies God by showcasing God’s tender and extravagant care for His people. Isn’t that what the gospel is really all about? At its most basic, the good news is that God does for us what we can’t do for ourselves. He comes up with a way to make us holy. And he not only gives us the bare basics of freedom from hell, but so many incredible blessings both for now and for all of eternity. As John Piper notes, if you find a clear fresh spring of water, the best way to bring glory to that spring is not by getting a bucket and running around trying to bring more water to the spring but by drinking deeply from the spring and as you find yourself satisfied, saying, “Ahhhhhh! That was good!”

Abba, may my entering into your rest today bring you glory!





Today I'm writing in community with others. If you wish to read what others have written about rest, click on the button above.

Hidden Reality

The hibernating tree

transformed by pink new light

awakening me to possibility.

Caught off guard

darkness is cracked

by first bright rays

slicing through it

revealing the up-side-downness

of normal.

Sometimes I glimpse it

this hidden Reality

peeking out

through the facade

we call

“the real world”

the truth of how things are

of what we were created for.

God of Light

All Truth

Living Center

of the Really Real

Reveal the inbreaking Certainty

which spreads the slender chink

waking me to transformation in

the right-side-upness of your Life.

Hope in Shattered Places

“. . . We live in the shadow of the fall
But the cross says these are all
Places where grace is soon to be so amazing
It may be unfulfilled
It may be unrestored
But when anything that's shattered is laid before the Lord
Just watch and see
It will not be unredeemed . . .”
(Selah “Unredeemed”)

On this Monday celebrating the thousand gifts, the truth of God’s re-creating grace tops my list. I love watching how God brings Life and Hope out of the most painful of places.

A few other gifts on my list:

fruit smoothies

warm sun on bare arms

the laughter of children on the playground

little boys imagining sticks into trucks

a dog chasing a ball

washing machines (much easier than hand scrubbing!)

four-part a capella hymns sung with a large congregation

cool early summer morning air

constantly changing colors in the sky at twilight

God’s lavish generosity that keeps pouring on the gifts faster than I can count

a thousand risings full of God's faithful love

A Thousand Risings

On a clear day

she rises in an instant

dawn’s faint light

consumed in brightness.

Yet when fog lingers

over still water

or clouds scale

the day’s new sky

gold is stretched

along waiting’s edges

revelation magnified

as glory is mirrored

in the transformed greyness.

Your daily faithfulness

unchanged

through a thousand risings

is new every morning

 

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23

A Call to Rest

I hear it again. Someone who has not had a day off in three weeks. Another whose exhaustion is not touched by a week away. Doing good things. Great things. But my heart breaks as I wonder. . . How long can they continue?

I wonder. . . Is this really how it’s meant to be? Or are we missing out on the best?

And my heart breaks. It breaks because I’ve been there.

I will not soon forget the pain of finally having to admit (after six weeks of trying to work from bed) that my illness was not improving and that I had to leave my Central Asian home. I planned to return after a short break. When I was still sick after a month, I moved the target. I was going to be ready in another month. And another. It took me six months to finally resign my position in Central Asia and a year to be able to apply for disability insurance. I wasn’t disabled. I couldn’t be. I had obligations to meet, people to serve, lives to save. I was the doctor, not the patient. Surely soon my body would catch up with my desires and I would be okay again.

But I wasn’t.

Slowly, in the midst of the questions and illness and grief, I began to hear the freeing whisper that I am dust. Loved dust. Fragile and vulnerable and cherished and held. Nothing to prove. No need to earn the love. I heard the call to rest.

I had heard that call before. Several years previously I had studied what the Bible had to say about rest. I had spoken about it and led studies on it. I had been challenged by the pictures in Isaiah 28 and 30:

“He offered rest and comfort to all of you (or, as the NIV puts it, “He said, ‘This is the resting place, let the weary rest,’; and ‘This is the place of repose’”), but you refused to listen to him. That is why the LORD is going to teach you letter by letter, line by line, lesson by lesson. Then you will stumble with every step you take. You will be wounded, trapped, and taken prisoner.” (Is 28:12-13 Good News Bible)

“This is what the Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel, says:"In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it. You said, 'No, we will flee on horses.' Therefore you will flee! You said, 'We will ride off on swift horses.' Therefore your pursuers will be swift! A thousand will flee at the threat of one; at the threat of five you will all flee away, till you are left like a flagstaff on a mountaintop, like a banner on a hill." (Is 30:15-17 New International Version)

The consequences of refusing to rest had startled and frightened me. But, faced daily with up to three hundred patients lining up at the gates of the hospital, I hadn't rested. My sense of responsibility to the 150,000 people in our region had won and I had pressed on, responding to each need.

“Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion.” (Is 30:18) For me, the crash was part of the compassion. It was perhaps the only way God could bring me out into a spacious place where I could learn the beauty of the call to rest, and of the One Who Calls.

I still sometimes struggle to rest. I still feel the pressure of deadlines and do lists. But slowly I’m learning that when I respect my limits and say no to some needs, God can handle the situation. (Case in point: when I finally did leave Central Asia after four months of being the only doctor, God provided four others!)

I'm learning that life, true, abundant joy-filled Life, is more about relationships than do-lists, and that I miss it if I don't slow down and listen.

I am learning that my overdeveloped sense of responsibility more often reflects lack of faith than faith-full servant hood. In believing that I had to respond to every need myself, and failing to honor the way I am made (from dust, and still bearing the frailty of the same), I was also failing to trust that God (the Shaper of dust and Reality whose image we bear) could meet those needs another way.

Oh, God, give us grace to respond to your call to be still and remember Who You Are!

The Choice

I did not choose
all else to be
removed

self shattered
need sharpened
longing lengthened
into needle points

But as I sift
through shards
a choice appears

To scavenge

fragments

of a former identity

Or nurture tender shoots

of a new and listening life

Which will I choose?

Hurried productivity
Or intentional attentiveness

Distracted servanthood
Or whole-bodied loving?

“Mary has chosen the best
and she will have it.”