It takes a lot of self-restraint and conviction to wait for what you want. From the moment we're born, we contend with our own impatience. Just watch a hungry newborn trying to suckle their mother. We want what we want when we want it!
Recently, I thought about our impatience to wait when I read this quote by Winslow Homer. Homer, a celebrated American artist, is known for his exquisite use of light diffused across melancholy seascapes.
In a letter to a friend, Winslow Homer described his working method. "I work very hard ever afternoon from 4:30 to 4:40—that being the limit of the light I represent. You must not paint everything you see. You must wait, and wait patiently, until the exceptional, the wonderful effect or aspect comes.” (The Chicago Institute of Art, special exhibit)
How many of us wait, and wait patiently, for the exceptional and wonderful? More often than not, we settle for less than the best OR end up painting everything we see! We run around gathering and hoarding all that we can get our hands on rather than waiting for that which is exquisite.
I just spent a glorious weekend in Nashville, Indiana, speaking at a retreat. (If you’ve never been, but were to visit this scenic village nestled in the hills of southern Indiana, you just might change your mind about what you think of the Hoosier state!) It is an uncommonly beautiful and dramatic landscape.
I spent the weekend with women from New Life Community Church—every bit as warm-hearted as the spring weather we enjoyed. They soaked in the experience and were so responsive to the message of The Wide Open Spaces of God. I feel like I just made a batch of new friends!
They are in transition between lead pastors. As a result, they are a “community-in-waiting.” However, rather than impatience, I sense a growing resolve to lean in to the waiting and be transformed by it. In the process, I wonder if they won't discover far more of their own gifts, passions, and destiny, as they wait on God to lead them to the next chapter in the life and leadership of their church.
Homer knew what he was looking for, the lighting he wanted. To capture it, he waited for that narrow ten-minute window between 4:30 pm and 4:40 pm and worked exceedingly hard to replicate it on canvas. What great things would come—exceptional and wonderful things—if we learned to be patient and wait.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Spirit of Expectancy
Last weekend, I spoke at a retreat in Northbrook, IL, offering material from my book, The Wide Open Spaces of God. It was perhaps one of the richest experiences I have participated in to date. I have continued to reflect, asking God for insight into the unique dynamics that created such a responsive environment.
I read something in Richard Foster's Celebration of Discipline, and it helped name at least one of the dynamics that I experienced. He said in his chapter on worship that "When more than one or two come into public worship with a holy expectancy, it can change the atmosphere of a room. People who enter harried and distracted are drawn quickly into a sense of the silent Presence. Hearts and minds are lifted upward. The air becomes charged with expectancy."
It was a spirit of expectancy that permeated the planning process. Every time this team contacted me, via email or phone calls, they had an expectant attitude, often naming how God was already working through the details of their planning. Their anticipation was contagious. As I prepared myself for the retreat, I looked forward, as well. I began to expect God.
On Friday evening, they prayed with me before hand and when the conference began, the spirit of expectancy began to spread. Women were deeply engaged, hungry to wrestle with the terrain of each landscapes we explored. It was a sacred experience and one that I will cherish for a very long time.
I bless God and the team at North Suburban for their hearts and hard work. Most of all, I am grateful to them for sowing this spirit of expectancy. Women were poised to experience God because of it.
I read something in Richard Foster's Celebration of Discipline, and it helped name at least one of the dynamics that I experienced. He said in his chapter on worship that "When more than one or two come into public worship with a holy expectancy, it can change the atmosphere of a room. People who enter harried and distracted are drawn quickly into a sense of the silent Presence. Hearts and minds are lifted upward. The air becomes charged with expectancy."
It was a spirit of expectancy that permeated the planning process. Every time this team contacted me, via email or phone calls, they had an expectant attitude, often naming how God was already working through the details of their planning. Their anticipation was contagious. As I prepared myself for the retreat, I looked forward, as well. I began to expect God.
On Friday evening, they prayed with me before hand and when the conference began, the spirit of expectancy began to spread. Women were deeply engaged, hungry to wrestle with the terrain of each landscapes we explored. It was a sacred experience and one that I will cherish for a very long time.
I bless God and the team at North Suburban for their hearts and hard work. Most of all, I am grateful to them for sowing this spirit of expectancy. Women were poised to experience God because of it.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Small Groups Exploring The Wide Open Spaces
“To this day that is what it takes to hold the church together. It is the community of interrupted lives, where we come together to confess our stories and search for God’s purpose.” Craig Barnes, When God Interrupts
I love this quote! It describes at least one dimension of what it means to be the church. We are a place where people gather together, share stories, and try to make some sense of our interrupted lives.
Wouldn’t it be great to have a tool to help us do that? That is my intention in posing reflection and discussion questions at the end of each chapter in The Wide Open Spaces of God. Through the book and these questions, I want individuals and small groups to discover the intersection between their story and God’s story.
One friend wrote me after she shared the eight landscapes with her ministry team. She said that after they shared, “I heard some things about what they are going through that never would have surfaced otherwise.”
Please consider reading The Wide Open Spaces of God to gather your community, tell your stories, and search for God’s purpose.
I love this quote! It describes at least one dimension of what it means to be the church. We are a place where people gather together, share stories, and try to make some sense of our interrupted lives.
Wouldn’t it be great to have a tool to help us do that? That is my intention in posing reflection and discussion questions at the end of each chapter in The Wide Open Spaces of God. Through the book and these questions, I want individuals and small groups to discover the intersection between their story and God’s story.
One friend wrote me after she shared the eight landscapes with her ministry team. She said that after they shared, “I heard some things about what they are going through that never would have surfaced otherwise.”
Please consider reading The Wide Open Spaces of God to gather your community, tell your stories, and search for God’s purpose.
Monday, February 4, 2008
The Land Between
This weekend I spoke at a conference in Austin, Texas. One of the messages I gave was from a chapter in my book, The Wide Open Spaces of God, called The Land Between. This landscape describes times in our life when we are in transition. We are somewhere in the middle between an ending of something and the beginning of something else.
Here’s an excerpt from my book:
We Struggle to Accept the Timing of Transition
“Transition has an innate time frame, a speed (or lack of speed) at which it travels. Every transition we go through will require a certain pace in order to process and profit thoroughly from the time. What we discover in these transitions is a pull in one of two directions: we either delay transition by holding on to the past or try to speed up transition by moving on too quickly.” (Pg. 179)
A picture came to mind as I was preparing to speak. I thought of what it is like to float down a river in an inner tube. The best way to travel is simply to let the current carry you. But sometimes you get hung up. A fallen limb gets in your way or you hit a sand bar. At that point in the “transition” it’s like you are holding on the past, trying to remain where you are, and letting the current move on without you.
Sometimes, instead of trying to hang on to the past, you try to move along too quickly. You become frustrated when the current is moing too slowly. You begin to paddle feverishly, trying to move yourself along. At that point, your primary goal is to get to the other side.
Having been in transition for the last couple of years, I can attest to both temptations. This image of floating down the river is helping me discover the best posture for “going with the flow”—something I don’t do very naturally.
Here’s an excerpt from my book:
We Struggle to Accept the Timing of Transition
“Transition has an innate time frame, a speed (or lack of speed) at which it travels. Every transition we go through will require a certain pace in order to process and profit thoroughly from the time. What we discover in these transitions is a pull in one of two directions: we either delay transition by holding on to the past or try to speed up transition by moving on too quickly.” (Pg. 179)
A picture came to mind as I was preparing to speak. I thought of what it is like to float down a river in an inner tube. The best way to travel is simply to let the current carry you. But sometimes you get hung up. A fallen limb gets in your way or you hit a sand bar. At that point in the “transition” it’s like you are holding on the past, trying to remain where you are, and letting the current move on without you.
Sometimes, instead of trying to hang on to the past, you try to move along too quickly. You become frustrated when the current is moing too slowly. You begin to paddle feverishly, trying to move yourself along. At that point, your primary goal is to get to the other side.
Having been in transition for the last couple of years, I can attest to both temptations. This image of floating down the river is helping me discover the best posture for “going with the flow”—something I don’t do very naturally.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Spiritual Direction and the Language of Landscapes
For those seeking assistance in discerning God’s involvement in their life, spiritual direction is a wonderful path. Spiritual directors are different from counselors; they don’t offer therapy but rather active listening, discernment, and thoughtful questions. My spiritual director listens deeply, let’s me process the intersection of God’s story and my own, and asks provocative questions that help me reflect. She adds rich wisdom along with her supportive presence.
I’ve been thinking about the role of spiritual direction and the landscape metaphor that I use in my book, The Wide Open Spaces of God. In my book, I describe nine different landscapes that portray periods of time in our life journey. Each landscape provides language and a framework for the reader to think about and reflect on their life; past, present and future. The language is rich and sensory; it describes the way life feels when you trek through that particular terrain.
The following is a condensation of the language in each chapter of my book.
• Thoughtfully read each summary.
• Toward which are you most drawn? How might God be inviting you toward this landscape?
• Which one is most descriptive of your life right now? How might God want to use this particular terrain to shape your life and transform you?
The Desert: A time when life feels bleak, stark, barren, dry, brittle, and empty.
The Promised Land: A time when life feels fitting, full, rich, satisfying, abundant and fruitful.
The Mountain of God: A time when life feels curious, confusing, questioning, disturbing, and disillusioning,
The Valley of Darkness: A time when life feels dark, depressing, hopeless and disorienting.
The Green Pastures: A time when life feels restful, peaceful, still, serene, restoring and quiet.
The Land of Exile: A time when life feels disappointing, grinding, ill-fitting, dissatisfying and sad.
The Deep Waters: A time when life feels overwhelming, intimidating, oppressive, helpless, and desperate.
The Land Between: A time when life feels tenuous, stretching, hopeful and uncertain.
The Wide Open Spaces: A time when life feels exciting, adventurous, challenging, scary, big and free.
I’ve been thinking about the role of spiritual direction and the landscape metaphor that I use in my book, The Wide Open Spaces of God. In my book, I describe nine different landscapes that portray periods of time in our life journey. Each landscape provides language and a framework for the reader to think about and reflect on their life; past, present and future. The language is rich and sensory; it describes the way life feels when you trek through that particular terrain.
The following is a condensation of the language in each chapter of my book.
• Thoughtfully read each summary.
• Toward which are you most drawn? How might God be inviting you toward this landscape?
• Which one is most descriptive of your life right now? How might God want to use this particular terrain to shape your life and transform you?
The Desert: A time when life feels bleak, stark, barren, dry, brittle, and empty.
The Promised Land: A time when life feels fitting, full, rich, satisfying, abundant and fruitful.
The Mountain of God: A time when life feels curious, confusing, questioning, disturbing, and disillusioning,
The Valley of Darkness: A time when life feels dark, depressing, hopeless and disorienting.
The Green Pastures: A time when life feels restful, peaceful, still, serene, restoring and quiet.
The Land of Exile: A time when life feels disappointing, grinding, ill-fitting, dissatisfying and sad.
The Deep Waters: A time when life feels overwhelming, intimidating, oppressive, helpless, and desperate.
The Land Between: A time when life feels tenuous, stretching, hopeful and uncertain.
The Wide Open Spaces: A time when life feels exciting, adventurous, challenging, scary, big and free.
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