Early one morning, I took a walk from my neighborhood to a nearby lake. I situated myself on a log, facing the water, communing with its stillness. A mallard duck glided effortlessly across the surface, drawing pencil like lines behind itself. I noticed the water surface was solid, yet permeable.
How ironic that giant ocean liners and barges can press upon its surface, held up by the sheer strength of its breadth and depth. At the same time, the surface of water is impressionable. With little effort, it is jostled, dented, rippled across its face.
I immediately made a connection with God. With effortless exertion, He holds the weight of the world in the palm of his hand—each life within earth’s colony precious to Him. Yet, God’s strength is matched by His resilience. He is permeable, affected, and responsive.
As I sat, collecting my thoughts, I envisioned the sensation of floating on the water. With complete surrender, entrusting my weight to its faculty, I am buoyed up.
That is the image I need right now in my life—the image of floating on the surface of God, allowing Him to buoy me, imagining His presence coming up underneath me, able to hold the weight of my life.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Third Thursday
Last Thursday, I spent the evening at a spa. It was a full-service spa—facials, pedicures, manicures, massages—the works! Everywhere I turned, I watched clusters of women engaged in the art of pampering.
Ironically, this “spa” was located in a residential center for young girls—a secured dorm of 13 -17 year olds. These girls live in this home because they have been placed there by the courts—either because they have gotten into trouble or were taken from abusive homes.
Every third Thursday of the month, a team from my church visits with these young women. We have been doing so for nearly a year. At first, the girls were wary and mistrusting. Now that they know us, and know that we keep coming back, they greet us with big hugs and warm welcomes.
This week, the girls were pitched with excitement when they discovered our plans—a spa with all the accouterments (minus sharp objects and appliances that could be used as weapons). We set up stations in every corner of the room: footbaths, massages, pedicures, makeovers and manicures.
As the spa opened for service, to my left I saw one of our team on the floor, kneeling by a young resident whose feet were plunged into a soothing footbath. I watched, as my friend massaged her legs with fragrant lotion.
At my table, another woman applied make up to a young girl who, frankly, could pass as a boy. My friend oohed and aahed, as she dabbed her face with feminine colors and lined her lips with pink shine.
Another teammate, in an act of mothering, used her own nails to clean under the fingernails of a young girl. (No nail files allowed!) I massaged lotion on one girl’s arms, rubbing over the scars left from her cutting herself.
Across the room, a woman applied gorgeous colors and designs to the girl’s nails while another woman, like a vendor, peddled around large trays of succulent grapes, chocolate covered strawberries, and bananas. Ambrosia!
These snapshots are vivid in my mind. I think it’s because I felt so close to Jesus when we were there. I felt Him with us, as I watched our team be Jesus to these precious girls. I felt like we were living in the Kingdom of God—that we were experiencing God’s good will coming down from heaven to earth.
Now I pause and wonder--what will our next third Thursday have in store?
Ironically, this “spa” was located in a residential center for young girls—a secured dorm of 13 -17 year olds. These girls live in this home because they have been placed there by the courts—either because they have gotten into trouble or were taken from abusive homes.
Every third Thursday of the month, a team from my church visits with these young women. We have been doing so for nearly a year. At first, the girls were wary and mistrusting. Now that they know us, and know that we keep coming back, they greet us with big hugs and warm welcomes.
This week, the girls were pitched with excitement when they discovered our plans—a spa with all the accouterments (minus sharp objects and appliances that could be used as weapons). We set up stations in every corner of the room: footbaths, massages, pedicures, makeovers and manicures.
As the spa opened for service, to my left I saw one of our team on the floor, kneeling by a young resident whose feet were plunged into a soothing footbath. I watched, as my friend massaged her legs with fragrant lotion.
At my table, another woman applied make up to a young girl who, frankly, could pass as a boy. My friend oohed and aahed, as she dabbed her face with feminine colors and lined her lips with pink shine.
Another teammate, in an act of mothering, used her own nails to clean under the fingernails of a young girl. (No nail files allowed!) I massaged lotion on one girl’s arms, rubbing over the scars left from her cutting herself.
Across the room, a woman applied gorgeous colors and designs to the girl’s nails while another woman, like a vendor, peddled around large trays of succulent grapes, chocolate covered strawberries, and bananas. Ambrosia!
These snapshots are vivid in my mind. I think it’s because I felt so close to Jesus when we were there. I felt Him with us, as I watched our team be Jesus to these precious girls. I felt like we were living in the Kingdom of God—that we were experiencing God’s good will coming down from heaven to earth.
Now I pause and wonder--what will our next third Thursday have in store?
Friday, July 11, 2008
Radical Presence
A colleague of mine recently attended a silent retreat led by author and director of the Shalem Institute, Tilden Edwards. My friend shared his experience with me, and though I didn't attend the retreat, I have benefited tremendously through my friend's experience.
During the retreat, Edwards talked about a way of living with radical presence. This expression put words to a deep yearning in my own heart. Tilden described "radical presence" as being present to God in order to be led by the Spirit of God. He said that radical presence IS the sole grounding of spiritual leadership. And it's radical because so few people live from that place of fullness and awareness!
I know about radical presence. It's the most sublime, energizing, and contented way to live. The communion I experience with God and the sensitivity I have to His Spirit make life an adventure! I feel full and alive; responsive and real. It's the only way to live from my true self and out of my calling.
But living consistently from that place is another story. For the past couple weeks, I have conducted an experiment. I've been intent to live with greater awareness to God's presence within me. Though my success has been spotty at times, I can tell you it is the way I want to live.
As I interacted with people, prepared a meal, or took a walk, I found myself moving into this place of being present to God and His Spirit's leading. When I drifted, I noticed an increase in anxiety, a feeling of being fragmented and flustered. Then the thought would return; radical presence--being presence to God to be led by His Spirit.
How about you? What do you know about radical presence? How do you practice it? I welcome your thoughts and insights as we learn together. I sense that there no more important work we have before us than to learn to abide in this place.
During the retreat, Edwards talked about a way of living with radical presence. This expression put words to a deep yearning in my own heart. Tilden described "radical presence" as being present to God in order to be led by the Spirit of God. He said that radical presence IS the sole grounding of spiritual leadership. And it's radical because so few people live from that place of fullness and awareness!
I know about radical presence. It's the most sublime, energizing, and contented way to live. The communion I experience with God and the sensitivity I have to His Spirit make life an adventure! I feel full and alive; responsive and real. It's the only way to live from my true self and out of my calling.
But living consistently from that place is another story. For the past couple weeks, I have conducted an experiment. I've been intent to live with greater awareness to God's presence within me. Though my success has been spotty at times, I can tell you it is the way I want to live.
As I interacted with people, prepared a meal, or took a walk, I found myself moving into this place of being present to God and His Spirit's leading. When I drifted, I noticed an increase in anxiety, a feeling of being fragmented and flustered. Then the thought would return; radical presence--being presence to God to be led by His Spirit.
How about you? What do you know about radical presence? How do you practice it? I welcome your thoughts and insights as we learn together. I sense that there no more important work we have before us than to learn to abide in this place.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Winslow Homer on Waiting
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.
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.
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.
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