Into the Silent Land: Day 27

I’ve been preaching through the Apostles’ Creed. Yesterday was: “I believe in the forgiveness of sins.” I think this affirmation is absolutely essential to journeying in the silent land. We believe in the forgiveness of sin; that big picture idea that God in Christ has defeated sin and death. But, notice, the affirmation says, “I believe in the forgiveness of sins.” To affirm “I believe in forgiveness of sin” is to affirm, “I believe in the forgiveness of sinS.” This takes a larger theological claim and puts flesh and blood on it. While in the silent land, my mind is full of sins I can’t seem to allow God to forgive me of, as well as sins I can’t seem to release others from. Forgiveness of sins, however, frees us to live the life of wholeness and joy God invites us into. 

“God of freedom and grace, I’ve held onto sins because of shame. I’ve kept them from your grace because I doubted your grace could reach that deep. Today, however, I lay them all before you. Take them away. Take away the shame. Free me. And, as I receive your mercy and grace, I also lay before you all those sins I’ve felt from others. Strengthen me with power to forgive and extend the same grace toward others that I embrace from you. In the name of Jesus, the one who carried all sin(s) deep into your love. AMEN!

Into the Wilderness: Day 16

MRI in FOUR DAYS. I’m not real sure how to describe my MRIs as they relate to the wilderness journey. On one hand, they are like the dark cave one must enter on the wilderness path, not knowing what will be inside waiting. You can’t go over, under, or around. You must go through. You anticipate passing through, coming out into the light on the other side, checking yourself to make sure everything is still in place; all fingers accounted for, no creepy, crawly, critters hitching a ride, no vampire bat bites. In the circles I run in, we call it “scanxiety.” Yet, I find a strangely, disturbing delight on MRI days. There is something peaceful about lying there for 45 minutes; just me, my thoughts, God, and obnoxiously loud pings, bangs, whoops, and whamps. I suppose it’s knowing that this scan will get me one more quarter of a year until the next one. But, I think it’s more than that. I think there is something deep within us that longs for the truth of our lives. We want to know and be known. I deeply want to know what my brain looks like, and share that knowledge with others. Of course, in this case, I’m speaking of those pesky oligodendroglioma cells. But, on a broader level, I think we all want to make it out of the wilderness. We are content passing through the wilderness, as long as we come out of it whole, and are able to tell others of our journey we made.

Into the Wilderness: Day 15

Last night I had the amazing opportunity to speak at my brain tumor support group. I spoke about the essentiality of walking this wilderness road with others and being willing to open ourselves up in vulnerability and give and receive hospitality. To share life with another requires me to give up a piece of myself; some protection and security I wrap around my heart. When walking the wilderness road we may need to help others walking with us know that we’re okay being vulnerable. That this isn’t weakness, but even if it is, we’re okay with weakness. That we don’t need anyone to fix it, or make us stronger, just walk with us. The surprise and the mystery, however, is that when we add our lives together we get more than the sum total each other. Something new is created: 1+1=3.

"Jesus emptied himself...therefore, God exalted him." Philippians 2:5-11

God, the story I hear every day is that success is when I become truly self-reliant. Yet, I confess,  I need you, and I need others. May I open my heart, expose my vulnerability, and allow new life in. In the name of Jesus, who surrendered himself that new life may be possible for all. Amen  

Into the Wilderness: Day 14

"If anyone, then, knows the good they ought to do and doesn’t do it, it is sin for them." James 4:17

I had big plans for today. When I started this Lenten journey of reflecting on the wilderness for 40 days before Easter, I included as part of it my plans to run the “Run for the Rose” 5K the Sunday after Easter. This is a brain tumor research run. For 4.5 years I’ve been sitting on my butt feeling sorry for myself because the glory days of my athletic prowess are behind me. My goal for today was to break 9 min for a mile. The Wilderness couldn't care less about our plans, so it’s a 100% of rain all day. I also planned to be on day 17, so, I'm 3 posts behind, but sickness, busyness, blah, blah, blah… All excuses. Only one thing has kept me from keeping up. ME!

There is something so freeing about owning our own lives. Certainly when I look at myself, and as I reflect on all the people I have spiritually directed the past 20 years, what has kept us all from moving forward is an unwillingness to own our lives. Own our mistakes. Own the ways we deeply reject God’s way. It’s not complicated. It’s not easy, nothing worthwile is, but it isn’t complicated. DO THE RIGHT THING! And do the right thing TODAY. I may actually run my mile today in the rain. Check back later to see how it turned out.

Into the Wilderness: Day 13

Into the Wilderness Day 13:

A tension exists in the wilderness. The silence in the wilderness usually generates despair; at least initially. But, then a strange thing happens. We begin to wear the empty silence like well worn slippers. The silence has shaped itself around my soul like it was molded especially for me.  We don't choose wilderness, but once we commune with God in the silence of the heart, we find ourselves wondering if we would ever not choose it. This is easy to consider because it's not a choice we will ever have so we can explore it without fear. But, the silence I once feared has now become a close friend. Could it be that the wilderness is actually my first home, the home I was created for?

God who dwells in the silence of the heart, thank you for molding the silence around my brokenness and revealing that you are not absent in silence, but dwell fully there. Amen.

Into the Wilderness: Day 12

“Lord, if you are willing, let this cup pass from me, yet not what I will, but what you will.” Jesus 

One thing is for certain: No one In the wilderness says, “Aww, Lord, just a few more months. Just one more pass around the mountain. Fill up the wilderness cup one more time.” The wilderness is not a cup we drink all at once so it can quickly be filled again. No, we sip it in hopes that it will be taken away at some point. Maybe it will, maybe it won’t. The pressing issue is not HOW to learn to drink the cup of wilderness, but whether I embrace the wilderness cup as God’s will. If I can’t embrace it, I will continue looking for shortcuts out, places along the way to pour out some of the cup, and miss the transforming power of drinking the whole journey cup.

God of the wilderness cup, may you renew my courage to drink the cup of bitterness, knowing that you will use the contents of that cup to transform me into your image bearer. In the name of Jesus, who drank the cup and turned it into glory. Amen!

Into the Wilderness: Day 11

“The days are coming,” declares the Sovereign Lord, “when I will send a famine through the land—not a famine of food or a thirst for water,
but a famine of hearing the words of the Lord. People will stagger from sea to sea and wander from north to east, searching for the word of the Lord,
but they will not find it.” Amos 8:11-12

While walking the wilderness road we find ourselves in desperate need to hear a word. What do we do when that word goes silent? Sometimes I find myself speaking FOR God. Sometimes I speak for him because I’m afraid he will, but sometimes I speak because I’m afraid he wont. Over the years, however, Ive become much more comfortable living within the silence. Into the silent land is where I am able to distinguish all the words that I have set in place of God’s words; words that turn out to be my words, my expectations, my world’s expectations, my world’s assumptions about what words bring life. Maybe my ache to hear a word out of the silence is actually the empty place left by all those empty promises that I had assumed would be filled by the noise of the world.

God of the silent land, may hope be enough to keep me walking when I realize the noise of the world can’t fill the deepest void within me. A void only filled by the deafening silence of your presence. Amen

Into the Wilderness: Day 10

The wilderness journey  isn't always covered  by a canopy of low hanging limbs casting ominous shadows on the path. On occasion we come to a clearing, and though we see the path quickly descends back into the shadows, it is these brief moments of clarity that remind us where we're going. In the clearing we see the summit and though we don't know how we'll get there, we know that the journey leads there. These spaces of clearing are God's gifts to us along the way. We don't know when they will come, and we wish there were more, but they are small sign posts along the way that we are on the right path. The challenge is whether I'll lift my head up during the clearing. Take advantage of the brief respite in the open field. Take a deep breath. Look up to the blue sky. Smile. Run my hands over the fragile flowers growing in the meadow. Or, will I keep my head down, cautiously walking with dragging feet knowing the narrow, shadowed path is just a few steps away? I don't want to miss the meadow because I'm dreading the upcoming path.

God who gives and takes away, may I lift my eyes to not miss your gifts because I dread the moment the gift is not there. May I learn to remain steadfast on the path so I may enjoy the meadow. Amen

Into the Wilderness: Day 9

“I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall.
 I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: 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. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” Lamentations 3:19-24

If the Lord is my portion, is he enough? I know what the trite answer is? But, day after day in the wilderness, is the Lord enough? This is a legitimate question because God is mystery. It's not just that God is mysterious, but God is mystery. It’s one thing to act in mysterious ways; this I am content with. I have no illusions that I am going to understand the ways God is working his will and reigning sovereign over the universe. I am completely content letting God take care of that. But, what is deeply disturbing is the presence of God as mystery. In the deafening silence of the wilderness I want to feel God’s presence or even hear his voice; at the minimum I would like a gentle breeze across my cheek just to know he is there. The wilderness, however, can be a lonely place. The wilderness is that place where we need God to be the most apparent, but it's where he often seems the most distant.

If God is my portion, is that portion that too often seems as filling as the pinch of bread and sip of juice on Sunday, enough?

As I reflect even now, am I speaking to God? Well yes, I imagine he is part of the conversation. I'm trying to listen however successful. But, speaking of God in the third person just seems too distant. Rather than saying “him,” I would love to say “you.” Is God enough? Is the illusive presence enough?
Is the ear shattering silence enough?

I guess the answer all depends on a clarifying question: "Enough for What?" I'll let that one sit and stew awhile.