Day 17
I’ve had butterflies in my tummy. You know, those little waves of nervousness that you get when you are anticipating something. The Art of Faith is Saturday, and, yes, I still get nervous when I speak. This time around, not only am I presenting, I am hosting the event along with Brent Bill. Thus, the butterflies.
Today, at lunch, for some reason they were especially fluttery. I made a turkey sandwich but could only a little bit. I’m the type that when I’m anxious, I can’t eat. So, I gave up after a few bites.
Food and butterflies don’t mix well. That’s because our whole body has to cooperate when we eat. When our stomach is churning, it knots up and we lose our appetite. Without an appetite, we are no longer interested in eating, even if it tastes good.
I wonder how anxiety affects our spiritual appetite. While it seems that stress might drive us toward God, some times I notice the opposite. The thought of slowing down, attending to our spiritual lives makes us more anxious. All the stress and anxiety keep us distracted from noticing the longing in our souls.
Sometimes we have to deal with the anxiety, before we can attend to our spiritual needs. Why not try a few of these exercises and see if they help you shoo the butterflies away:
1. When you notice you are anxious or something upsets you, stop what you are doing and begin to pay attention to your breathing, slowing it down until you can control your breaths.
2. As you slow your breathing, begin to relax your body, starting with your feet and moving upward until you reach your face and head.
3. With each inhale and exhale, say a simple prayer, like “I can do all things (inhale), through Christ who strengthens me (exhale).”
4. Continue until the butterflies have flown away. Then rest in God and bring to him whatever is own your mind.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
30 Days of Tasting
Day 16
This morning, I woke up with a mild headache and just didn’t feel quite right. So, I did my usual—opened a packet of Emergen-C, poured it into a glass with water, stirred and downed it. I’m now on my third packet of the day. This slightly sweet, fizzy potion is the focus of my writing on my sixteenth day of tasting.
There isn’t really anything remarkable about the taste. The one I have is raspberry flavored. I don’t drink it because of its exquisite taste. I drink it because of what it does—what it has inside that helps boost my immune system and fight off potential viral intruders. Perhaps some of its effect is more psychosomatic. I imagine I feel better when I take it.
We eat some things more for their benefit to our body than because of their delight to our palate. And there is a parallel with our spiritual lives. We participate in certain disciplines, not always because of their tantalizing excitement, but because we know they bring about numerous unseen benefits.
Take prayer, for instance. I don't know how it works. I don't always see that it does. Yet, I pray. I pray because I believe that a lot more happens than is always obvious. I pray, not because of how it tastes, but because of the impact it has on my heart and others. Even if I can’t point to any obvious answer to prayer, I am calmed and centered through turning to God in prayer. Like my friend Emergen-C, I believe in prayer. So, I keep downing it.
This morning, I woke up with a mild headache and just didn’t feel quite right. So, I did my usual—opened a packet of Emergen-C, poured it into a glass with water, stirred and downed it. I’m now on my third packet of the day. This slightly sweet, fizzy potion is the focus of my writing on my sixteenth day of tasting.
There isn’t really anything remarkable about the taste. The one I have is raspberry flavored. I don’t drink it because of its exquisite taste. I drink it because of what it does—what it has inside that helps boost my immune system and fight off potential viral intruders. Perhaps some of its effect is more psychosomatic. I imagine I feel better when I take it.
We eat some things more for their benefit to our body than because of their delight to our palate. And there is a parallel with our spiritual lives. We participate in certain disciplines, not always because of their tantalizing excitement, but because we know they bring about numerous unseen benefits.
Take prayer, for instance. I don't know how it works. I don't always see that it does. Yet, I pray. I pray because I believe that a lot more happens than is always obvious. I pray, not because of how it tastes, but because of the impact it has on my heart and others. Even if I can’t point to any obvious answer to prayer, I am calmed and centered through turning to God in prayer. Like my friend Emergen-C, I believe in prayer. So, I keep downing it.
Monday, September 28, 2009
30 Days of Tasting
Day 15
We seem to accept with little protest that some of the foods we ingest are not really what they say they are. They’re fake. Seafood salad isn’t really made from ocean creatures. Seitan, a vegetarian meat substitute isn’t really chicken, it just (sort of) tastes like chicken. And what about the last item in the ingredients of 90 % of the foods we eat called, “artificial flavors.” What is that?
I want to write tonight about something that has nothing to do with what I tasted today. It has to do with what I read this morning and “tasted” the rest of the day as I mulled it over. I am reading, The Deeper Journey, by M. Robert Mulholland Jr. It’s not a book for those with acrophobia—a fear of heights. Mulholland writes from the ether's, at times. But his subtitle, The Spirituality of Discovering Your True Self, defines one of my main passions in life and something I find critical to my spiritual journey.
Just like fake food, we all have a false self or selves. From a young age, we learn to navigate life, avoid pain, and get what we want by cultivating a false way of being in order to achieve our desired outcome. For instance, I learned to avoid being bullied and humiliated by my dad by withdrawing and not sharing myself or my true thoughts. I constructed a “good little girl” false self in order to escape trouble. That false self served me well for a time. BUT, it has also imprisoned me and made it profoundly difficult to become a passionate, expressive and confident woman—the woman God created me to be.
As a Christian, I think perhaps the greatest deterrent to becoming our true selves in Christ is our cultivation of a well-sculpted religious false self. Much of what we call transformation is really the development of the “good little Christian” false self who follows the rules and believes what it should. Instead of becoming authentic, whole and spirited people, we are more like imitation crab, chicken substitute or artificial flavors.
And isn’t that what those who aren’t Christ followers most often criticize us for? We are shallow--our spirituality comprised of a superficial layer of religious false self that has no depth of heart or genuineness. Yet, I am struck with Paul’s description of who God created us to be--our true selves in Christ. Paul says to, “throw off your old sinful nature and your former way of life, which is corrupted by lust and deception [our false self]. Instead, let the Spirit renew your thoughts and attitudes. Put on your new nature, created to be like God—truly righteous and holy [our true self].” (Ephesians 4:22, 23)
Just as I prefer real food over fake, I am on a journey of learning to prefer my true self over the false selves I have hidden behind most of my life. How about you? Would you be interested in joining me on this journey?
We seem to accept with little protest that some of the foods we ingest are not really what they say they are. They’re fake. Seafood salad isn’t really made from ocean creatures. Seitan, a vegetarian meat substitute isn’t really chicken, it just (sort of) tastes like chicken. And what about the last item in the ingredients of 90 % of the foods we eat called, “artificial flavors.” What is that?
I want to write tonight about something that has nothing to do with what I tasted today. It has to do with what I read this morning and “tasted” the rest of the day as I mulled it over. I am reading, The Deeper Journey, by M. Robert Mulholland Jr. It’s not a book for those with acrophobia—a fear of heights. Mulholland writes from the ether's, at times. But his subtitle, The Spirituality of Discovering Your True Self, defines one of my main passions in life and something I find critical to my spiritual journey.
Just like fake food, we all have a false self or selves. From a young age, we learn to navigate life, avoid pain, and get what we want by cultivating a false way of being in order to achieve our desired outcome. For instance, I learned to avoid being bullied and humiliated by my dad by withdrawing and not sharing myself or my true thoughts. I constructed a “good little girl” false self in order to escape trouble. That false self served me well for a time. BUT, it has also imprisoned me and made it profoundly difficult to become a passionate, expressive and confident woman—the woman God created me to be.
As a Christian, I think perhaps the greatest deterrent to becoming our true selves in Christ is our cultivation of a well-sculpted religious false self. Much of what we call transformation is really the development of the “good little Christian” false self who follows the rules and believes what it should. Instead of becoming authentic, whole and spirited people, we are more like imitation crab, chicken substitute or artificial flavors.
And isn’t that what those who aren’t Christ followers most often criticize us for? We are shallow--our spirituality comprised of a superficial layer of religious false self that has no depth of heart or genuineness. Yet, I am struck with Paul’s description of who God created us to be--our true selves in Christ. Paul says to, “throw off your old sinful nature and your former way of life, which is corrupted by lust and deception [our false self]. Instead, let the Spirit renew your thoughts and attitudes. Put on your new nature, created to be like God—truly righteous and holy [our true self].” (Ephesians 4:22, 23)
Just as I prefer real food over fake, I am on a journey of learning to prefer my true self over the false selves I have hidden behind most of my life. How about you? Would you be interested in joining me on this journey?
Sunday, September 27, 2009
30 Days of Tasting
Day 14
Too much of a good thing. That’s how I would frame my experience of taste today. I feel full from eating too many sweets over the weekend. Apple pie yesterday. Birthday cake today. And ice cream tonight. Of course, no one forced me to eat all those desserts. Now, as I come to the close of my day, I feel bloated and ready for a fast from sugar.
In what way does my sugar-high relate to my spiritual life? Is it ever possible to experience “too much of a good thing” in my experience as a Christian? Do I ever feel “bloated” spiritually, like I need to fast?
You know when I feel that the most? About 2/3 of the way through most sermons. At about that point, I begin to feel waterlogged by the excessive amount of words. I notice, even during a really great message, that I start to lose interest, or feel overwhelmed or irritated by the abundance of words. I want the person to stop so that I can think and let what’s been said trickle down. That’s when I experience, “too much of a good thing.”
My soul longs for space, stillness and solitude. I wish for more thoughtful, reflective time in worship. I crave less words and time to ingest what I have been given. Often, though, I feel guilty admitting that I have had too much. So, I just keep coming back for more.
Too much of a good thing. That’s how I would frame my experience of taste today. I feel full from eating too many sweets over the weekend. Apple pie yesterday. Birthday cake today. And ice cream tonight. Of course, no one forced me to eat all those desserts. Now, as I come to the close of my day, I feel bloated and ready for a fast from sugar.
In what way does my sugar-high relate to my spiritual life? Is it ever possible to experience “too much of a good thing” in my experience as a Christian? Do I ever feel “bloated” spiritually, like I need to fast?
You know when I feel that the most? About 2/3 of the way through most sermons. At about that point, I begin to feel waterlogged by the excessive amount of words. I notice, even during a really great message, that I start to lose interest, or feel overwhelmed or irritated by the abundance of words. I want the person to stop so that I can think and let what’s been said trickle down. That’s when I experience, “too much of a good thing.”
My soul longs for space, stillness and solitude. I wish for more thoughtful, reflective time in worship. I crave less words and time to ingest what I have been given. Often, though, I feel guilty admitting that I have had too much. So, I just keep coming back for more.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
30 Days of Tasting
Day 13
It’s not fall until I make an apple pie. Funny, though, it’s probably the only apple pie I will make the whole year. Not because I don’t like it. I just think it’s a whole lot of trouble. Skinning and paring apples is hard work. And making pie dough—well, I just can’t seem to master that art.
Despite the hindrances, today I made two yummy apple pies from scratch. We had David’s parents and his grandmother over for lunch, along with Brandt, Laura and baby Eli. For the first time, Eli met his great, great grandmother--five generations! (Grandma is 92, lives alone, cooks and cleans for herself, and makes amazing pies of all varieties.)
When I think of apple pie, I think of fall, David’s grandma and my own grandma. When I was a little girl, I would go over to my grandmother’s house quite often. She was a fabulous cook. From her kitchen, wafts of cinnamon, apples and butter would migrate through the house to the front room where I would play. And every time grandma baked apple pies, she would have leftover crust that she would roll out, spread with butter and sprinkle with cinnamon sugar and bake for me. It was my very own special pie.
Not only did I taste apple pie today, I tasted a little nostalgia. As the sweet, cinnamony apples and buttery, flaky crust melted in my mouth, I connected with powerful and wonderful recollections of my grandmother. It's impossible for me to eat apple pie and not think of her. And when I do, I remember how very much I loved her.
Perhaps that is why Jesus asked us, whenever we eat bread or drink wine, to remember him. He understood the power that food has to form indelible memories--ones that create continuity and give weight to our lives. Tomorrow morning, many of us will receive communion. But how many of us will be thoughtful about it? Will we really stop and think about Jesus and how very much we love him? Will we "do this in remembrance of him"?
Here are a few suggestions to help you taste communion:
It’s not fall until I make an apple pie. Funny, though, it’s probably the only apple pie I will make the whole year. Not because I don’t like it. I just think it’s a whole lot of trouble. Skinning and paring apples is hard work. And making pie dough—well, I just can’t seem to master that art.
Despite the hindrances, today I made two yummy apple pies from scratch. We had David’s parents and his grandmother over for lunch, along with Brandt, Laura and baby Eli. For the first time, Eli met his great, great grandmother--five generations! (Grandma is 92, lives alone, cooks and cleans for herself, and makes amazing pies of all varieties.)
When I think of apple pie, I think of fall, David’s grandma and my own grandma. When I was a little girl, I would go over to my grandmother’s house quite often. She was a fabulous cook. From her kitchen, wafts of cinnamon, apples and butter would migrate through the house to the front room where I would play. And every time grandma baked apple pies, she would have leftover crust that she would roll out, spread with butter and sprinkle with cinnamon sugar and bake for me. It was my very own special pie.
Not only did I taste apple pie today, I tasted a little nostalgia. As the sweet, cinnamony apples and buttery, flaky crust melted in my mouth, I connected with powerful and wonderful recollections of my grandmother. It's impossible for me to eat apple pie and not think of her. And when I do, I remember how very much I loved her.
Perhaps that is why Jesus asked us, whenever we eat bread or drink wine, to remember him. He understood the power that food has to form indelible memories--ones that create continuity and give weight to our lives. Tomorrow morning, many of us will receive communion. But how many of us will be thoughtful about it? Will we really stop and think about Jesus and how very much we love him? Will we "do this in remembrance of him"?
Here are a few suggestions to help you taste communion:
- Before you take communion, think back over your life with Christ and thank him for two or three really great memories from your life with him.
- When you receive the elements, don't be in a hurry. Slowly taste each one and let it "sit" in your mouth for several seconds before you swallow. Then tell him how much you love him.
- As you take communion, be aware of the community around and remember the church around the world--all receiving the bread and cup in Jesus' name. Imagine yourself as part of the gathering of the universal church.
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