We Can Have Both

I sometimes struggle with knowing exactly how to pray.  It’s not that there is any one right way, but the evolution of my theology can make for some interesting conversations with God.

Ephesians 3:14-21:“For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name.  I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love.  I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.  Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

This is mind blowing stuff.  Paul prays that the Ephesians might be able to comprehend that which is incomprehensible.  He prays for the impossible, and then he acts as if this is completely reasonable, since the God we can’t fully comprehend can do more than we can imagine.  It’s as if Paul is asking God to help us understand what cannot be understood, and he expects that might actually happen, even though he can’t possibly expect it.  This is often how I pray.

But I think we have to take a step back for a moment, because I don’t want to miss the part where we are strengthened by the power of the Holy Spirit, which allows us to be rooted and grounded in love.  I don’t want to miss that part, because I think we can all have that.  And, I also think it’s the most important part, particularly when comprehension and knowledge are elusive.

I really like to know stuff.  A lot.  In fact, I admit the quest for knowledge can be overwhelming and consuming, at times, and I am far more unapologetic than Solomon (see Ecclesiastes).  I wholeheartedly believe this thirst is a part of who we are and who we were created to be.  But I also have to remember that we were first created to love, and the measure of that love is infinite in nature.  

It's not a binary choice, though... this non-existent knowledge vs. love dichotomy.  Love is the greatest, but we can have both.
 
L.

Must I Be Sorry Forever?

I started this post in February (that’s going to be a theme for awhile, as I process through the bits and pieces I’ve scribbled over the past few months).  Part of what I was thinking was posted here.  I revisited it, this morning…

Every story has at least two sides.  Most stories have more, and if you were to line them up neatly, they would still be messy, because they would all be different.  I’m not sure it means someone is necessarily lying.  Perspective is rough.

I introspectively rehashed some difficult stuff over Holy Week, because it was as good a time as any.  For years now, I have been transfixed by Judas’ story.  I have been concerned with how little he was willing to profit, with how obvious it should have been that he expected to either be rescued or dead, and with how apathetic and unforgiving his people were.  I really don’t want to end up like Judas.

But I also don’t want to be sorry forever. 

Can you imagine what it might have looked like had Judas lived?  How the resurrection accounts might have been different?  Peter denies Jesus and gets reinstated.  What might have happened to Judas, who proclaimed exactly who Jesus was?  Would the other disciples have accepted his reinstatement, as well?  I’m going to guess the answer to that is no—at least not without a fight.  After all, Peter’s denial was relatively private (did the others even know?) whereas Judas’ confession was public.  It’s harder to forgive the crap that happens right out in the open… at least sometimes…

I’m pretty sure I have digressed… which seems par for the course today, because the daily office had my mind running all over the place.

I Thessalonians 5:11 caught my attention, to be sure:

“Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing” (NRSV).

My first thought upon reading this, today, was, “How am I doing this?”

I meant it literally and was immediately met with some figurative, cartoon-like reminders that sometimes we just do things without employing a lot of logic.  It’s like when an animated character jumps across a great chasm and stops midair, looks down, and says, “How am I doing this?” and legitimately doesn’t know, because it is impossible.  This seemed like a rabbit trail to me, but then I read on.

Matthew 6:7-15 was next.  I would not like to confess, but I am going to do so, that I thought about skimming it.  These are words I have memorized.  These are words I say every week and often lead others to say.  I read them anyway:

“When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.

Pray then in this way:

Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name.
Your kingdom come.
Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.
And forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And do not bring us to the time of trial,
but rescue us from the evil one.

For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses” (NRSV).

Do we really do this?  Do I really do this?  How am I doing this?  And, how am I doing this?

If I’m honest, sometimes I feel as if I am both confessing into and forgiving out of a very deep void, peddling my feet over empty space and wondering how it is that I don’t fall.  When I talk about cooperation with God, I often lean toward the necessity of human participation, because I think we are severely lacking, but there are also times when that cooperation means that God is the one working on our behalf… knowing what we need… suspending us in figurative mid-air… Because there are things we cannot do on our own.

Again…  I’m not going to lie… there are also times when I feel as if I’m dashed against the rocks (all the way down the sides and at the bottom of the canyon).  But I don’t think that’s God.  I think that’s people.  And although I feel confident that it is, indeed, my responsibility to confess my sins and right whatever wrong is possible (confession is more than lip service), I also feel confident that I don’t have to continue to be sorry forever and I do have to continue to forgive and take action forever.

There sometimes comes a point in human relationships when we simply have to recognize we have done what we can do, and the ball is no longer in our court.  It’s not about giving up.  It’s about letting go.

L.    

My Feet Have Walked this Path Before

I’m not sure that I’m really a creature of habit (I’m definitely not awesome at routine… still…), but I do like to revisit places I have loved.  The past two days have been pretty good for that.  This has given me time to reflect on the passage of time, itself, which is always a difficult concept around which to wrap my mind.

As an example, two (plus) years is seemingly a long time, but if you put that much space between trips to the same shore or the same prayer labyrinth on the edge of a cliff; when you arrive you might find that they are largely unchanged.  In that sense, maybe two years isn’t a long time, at all.

I, however, am not largely unchanged.

Prayer labyrinths are kind of funny (though not ordinarily humorous).  The one I walked, today, requires you to begin on a straight path that looks as if it could lead directly to the center, but… of course… we all know that’s never the way it goes.  Before you know it, we’re twisting and turning and just as we seem to get a little bit closer to the goal, we’re spinning around again.  If we “stay the course,” we will eventually get to wherever we’re going, but it takes more time than most of us are willing to commit. 

The first time I walked this particular labyrinth, I was completely alone for the vast majority of the walk.  Occasionally, I became aware of a curious presence, but most people simply do not have the patience for this kind of activity (even in the middle of a secluded garden that requires a significant elevator ride to reach it).  Today was different, because others joined in on a fairly regular basis, as I circled… and circled… and circled…  As reverent of an experience as I wished this to be, I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit at how hopelessly lost some of them got, traipsing through the middle of the maze, refusing to follow the meticulously laid out path.  The truth is, one misstep can take you right back to the beginning, and although I’m not sure that’s great theology; it made for some interesting reflection.

So, as people got lost and eventually gave up on the path, altogether, just running into the center to snap a selfie (admittedly, I’m guilty of the selfie thing, too, although I did get there honestly), I tried to keep my eyes on the ground. 

Keep your eyes on the ground?  Who gives that kind of advice?  Apparently… today… me…

Two years and two months ago, I lamented…  “It’s soaking wet and I’m freezing and I can’t remember how I got here!”  Today I think I know, but I’m not sure it matters anymore.  What does matter is that I have no desire, whatsoever, to be in the same place in another two years.  I was holding tightly to some stuff the first time I made this walk.  I was holding tightly to some stuff that didn’t come to pass, and maybe to some stuff that shouldn’t have come to pass, and I’ve grieved all of it so deeply that grief became my default.  I had a moment, this weekend, where I realized that in passionately grieving the past and present, I had actually begun to grieve the future, as well, and that’s just ridiculous!  I refuse to do that anymore.  “Each day has enough trouble of its own,” right?  Realism… (see Matt. 6:34).

I recently acquired a new favorite quote:

“She remembered who she was and the game changed.”

 -   Lalah Deliah

Remembering can be very, very good.  Revisiting can be very, very good.  Readjusting can be very, very good. 

New game…  Same goal…  Watch out…  This time, I know what I'm doing...

L.

#StillNotAQuitter

#WarmerFlipFlops

Twenty-eight Hour Days

The other day, I exclaimed, "I may have taken on too much for the fall!"  I then proceeded to watch as my teenage daughter's jaw hit the floor and she responded with, "Mom!  I never thought I'd hear you say that."  True story...

So, I was reading Job again when Eliphaz spit out one of those things that seemed sort of profound.  You may remember that, very recently, I gently reminded you that Job's friends generally give lousy advice, and there are surely better places to look for sound mentoring.  This is still true.  But there is also the, "take something from everyone you meet" thing, and this is what I'm taking from Eliphaz:   

Job 22:27-28, "You will pray to him, and he will hear you, and you will fulfill your vows.  What you decide on will be done, and light will shine on your ways" (NIV).

No pressure...  Just... you know... decide what you want to do and do it...

Seriously, though, I was struck by these verses, because I think they speak to one of the most overlooked purposes of prayer.  When we pray to God, God hears us.  God hears us, and then God gives us the power to do something.  It's not magical.  I love mystery, but maybe it's not even mysterious.  Prayer changes the outcome of the world, at least in part, because prayer changes us.  Prayer brings us into close enough communion with God that God imparts grace that allows us to fulfill vows and make good decisions and act on them.  That's powerful stuff!  Redemptive stuff!  The kind of thing that makes a difference.

Sometimes I decide to do too many things.  It's no secret.  But... amazingly... it appears that God has given me the strength to be the kind of person whose life can work out OK like that.  I fully expect that the next semester is going to push my limits beyond what I have experienced before.  Oh my goodness, if you know me that's saying something.  But maybe, just maybe, the light will shine anyway... the light will shine brightly...

May I encourage you to also pray for the grace to fulfill your vows?  For the power to decide and then to follow through?  For the light to blind us all, even at 3:00 in the morning?  Because, friends, it's going to take that long to accomplish everything I've packed into these coming days...

L.