Our ears are overflowing with sound throughout the day. Coworkers, children, TV, radio, trains, horns honking, construction, alarms and timers going off, and so on. Beyond that, we have the "noise" of browsing the Internet, reading the newspaper, even looking at billboards as we drive past them, and the general buzz of an endless string of thoughts and concerns that fills our minds.
At times, I have even been known to sabatoge perfectly peaceful quiet moments by seeking to fill the silence -- turning on the TV just to hear the sound of another person's voice when I'm home alone, reading a book, listening to the radio in the car, or flipping mindlessly through a magazine. There's nothing wrong with any of those things in particular. But if we're constantly giving in to the "noise," we may be missing out on something even better.
Is there space in your life to hear what God might want to tell you? Is there a time when you allot even a few minutes here and there to just being with Him, knowing that He loves you and you love Him, without an agenda? I've sensed lately that God has been nudging me to learn to take pleasure simply in being with Him and contemplating Him.
I am the mom of a preschooler, so I can't get away very often for personal retreat time. Maybe you have similar personal constraints (really, blessings!). That doesn't mean we're exempt from creating bits of silence in our lives. The bits might just be smaller or less frequent than we might have time for in other seasons of life -- but the point is to be mindful of creating some space instead of rushing to fill the potential segments of time with mindless "noise" like I am often guilty of.
No one's time was under more demands than Jesus -- he had disciples constantly asking him questions and looking to him for wisdom and guidance, crowds following his every move, Pharisees and Saduccees looking to challenge him, sick people crying out to be healed, and much more! And yet we see multiple examples of him withdrawing for some time with the Father (and there were likely countless more that went undocumented -- after all, we don't get an account of every meal he ate or every little thing he did on a daily basis). "But Jesus Himself would often slip away to the wilderness and pray." Luke 5:16
My goal for now is to be more mindful, more aware of potential bits of time when I can truly quiet my mind and be with God throughout my day. It doesn't have to be a long stretch of time. It could be as simple as stepping out my back door, breathing in the fresh air, listening to the birds sing, saying a prayer of thankfulness to God, telling Him I love Him, and then being silent for a moment so I can listen, just like in a regular conversation with someone I love.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Monday, January 4, 2010
Glimpses of Heaven
"The best of life on Earth is a glimpse of Heaven; the worst of life is a glimpse of Hell." Randy Alcorn, from his book Heaven
I recently began reading the book Heaven by Randy Alcorn. I'm only on about page 68 or so, and it's already re-shaping my views on Heaven and bringing to light how seldom this topic is discussed among Christians or preached about. I picked up the book with a specific hope: that it will help diminish my fear of death. The existence of this fear has often made me feel that my faith is not strong enough, but I think it's really my understanding of the reality of Heaven that is weak.
The quote above stood out to me because I have often felt that there are specific experiences or moments in my life that were like bits of Heaven on earth or little loving touches from God. Alcorn goes on to discuss that earth might have been inspired by Heaven in sort of the same way that humans were created in God's image. This got me thinking: Could it be worthwhile, or even a spiritual exercise, to create a greater awareness of those heavenly moments and be more intentional about thanking God for them and using them as a reminder to set our minds on Heaven and eternity?
Conversely, those darkest moments of our lives here on earth could be promptings to thank God for His grace in sparing us from Hell and to pray for others to open themselves to faith in Him.
Sometimes we view the spiritual and things that can be experienced with our senses as completely separate, possibly even in opposition to each other. But what could be more spiritual than taking in a beautiful view of the mountains or sunset and then saying thank you to the Creator and meditating on the beauty of his works? So many things that can be felt, seen, heard, tasted, or touched could actually be foretastes of the incredible life that awaits us in Heaven.
More thoughts on this to come, but I would be curious to hear what some of your "foretaste of Heaven" moments might be.
I recently began reading the book Heaven by Randy Alcorn. I'm only on about page 68 or so, and it's already re-shaping my views on Heaven and bringing to light how seldom this topic is discussed among Christians or preached about. I picked up the book with a specific hope: that it will help diminish my fear of death. The existence of this fear has often made me feel that my faith is not strong enough, but I think it's really my understanding of the reality of Heaven that is weak.
The quote above stood out to me because I have often felt that there are specific experiences or moments in my life that were like bits of Heaven on earth or little loving touches from God. Alcorn goes on to discuss that earth might have been inspired by Heaven in sort of the same way that humans were created in God's image. This got me thinking: Could it be worthwhile, or even a spiritual exercise, to create a greater awareness of those heavenly moments and be more intentional about thanking God for them and using them as a reminder to set our minds on Heaven and eternity?
Conversely, those darkest moments of our lives here on earth could be promptings to thank God for His grace in sparing us from Hell and to pray for others to open themselves to faith in Him.
Sometimes we view the spiritual and things that can be experienced with our senses as completely separate, possibly even in opposition to each other. But what could be more spiritual than taking in a beautiful view of the mountains or sunset and then saying thank you to the Creator and meditating on the beauty of his works? So many things that can be felt, seen, heard, tasted, or touched could actually be foretastes of the incredible life that awaits us in Heaven.
More thoughts on this to come, but I would be curious to hear what some of your "foretaste of Heaven" moments might be.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Stewardship of the Home
I've found that in Christian circles we often say things like "my money is really God's money" or "this home really belongs to God." Then again, my husband is a Certified Financial Planner and a Christian, so maybe I hear these types of things more than most. But I wonder whether, at the heart level, we actually live that way? I thought I did until I recently had to give up my home.
We had lived in our house for 9 1/2 years and needed to sell it. Although I didn't expect to live in the house forever, the timing was not of my choosing. The act of putting a For Sale sign in front of the house was excrutiating. I am a very sentimental person, and I kept thinking through all the beloved memories that took place in that home: various small group meetings, gatherings with friends and family, meals around the table, bringing my baby home from the hospital, digging all the beds around the house ourselves while the sunlight faded into evening, and so on. Our "fingerprints" were all over the house and yard. Suddenly I realized that I had an "it's mine!" attitude.
When the sign was placed in the yard and I started cleaning frantically for the first showing, I had a sudden realization: the house was never mine. It was always God's, mine only to care for and manage well. Part of managing it well would be to present it in the best light possible so that it could sell, and sell for a decent price. My mind started to shift into managerial mode and I wanted to honor God with the way I prepared and cared for the house. I proceeded with the process of letting it go, thankful for the time spent there and realizing that it did not belong to me.
The house ended up selling within a week, and everything proceeded quickly from there. But thanks to that nudging from the Holy Spirit, though some tears were shed (mostly related more to leaving precious friends), it became easier to leave the place we'd called home.
But like any other discipline, cultivating an attitude of stewardship rather than a tight-fisted clutching of a house requires practice, prayer, and consistency. It requires reminding myself of what's true.
Now I need to re-examine how I'm doing with stewardship of my body, abilities, money, and so on. I know one of the hardest things for me is to remember that my daughter belongs to God and not me and that I am raising her as His representative. That may be a topic for another post.
We had lived in our house for 9 1/2 years and needed to sell it. Although I didn't expect to live in the house forever, the timing was not of my choosing. The act of putting a For Sale sign in front of the house was excrutiating. I am a very sentimental person, and I kept thinking through all the beloved memories that took place in that home: various small group meetings, gatherings with friends and family, meals around the table, bringing my baby home from the hospital, digging all the beds around the house ourselves while the sunlight faded into evening, and so on. Our "fingerprints" were all over the house and yard. Suddenly I realized that I had an "it's mine!" attitude.
When the sign was placed in the yard and I started cleaning frantically for the first showing, I had a sudden realization: the house was never mine. It was always God's, mine only to care for and manage well. Part of managing it well would be to present it in the best light possible so that it could sell, and sell for a decent price. My mind started to shift into managerial mode and I wanted to honor God with the way I prepared and cared for the house. I proceeded with the process of letting it go, thankful for the time spent there and realizing that it did not belong to me.
The house ended up selling within a week, and everything proceeded quickly from there. But thanks to that nudging from the Holy Spirit, though some tears were shed (mostly related more to leaving precious friends), it became easier to leave the place we'd called home.
But like any other discipline, cultivating an attitude of stewardship rather than a tight-fisted clutching of a house requires practice, prayer, and consistency. It requires reminding myself of what's true.
Now I need to re-examine how I'm doing with stewardship of my body, abilities, money, and so on. I know one of the hardest things for me is to remember that my daughter belongs to God and not me and that I am raising her as His representative. That may be a topic for another post.
The Discipline of Stewardship
When we think of spiritual disciplines, we tend to think first of Bible study and memorization, prayer, and maybe even fasting. Until I read some books over the past few years I didn't realize that there were dozens, maybe even hundreds, of things that can be considered spiritual disciplines. Really, anything that assists in the molding of our character into something more like Christ's could probably be considered a spiritual discipline.
To me, stewardship is an oft-overlooked spiritual discipline. One definition (from Merriam-Webster) of stewardship is "the careful and responsible management of something entrusted to one's care." If we consider that everything given to us comes from God and belongs to God, everything we have is really just under our stewardship and not truly owned by us, whether our bodies, our time, our money, or other resources in our possession.
The act of living as a steward of these things is a discipline because through it we acknowledge God as the owner of all while we are the caretakers.
Now that I've introduced this idea, I'll proceed to a more personal post about how this has recently played out in my life.
To me, stewardship is an oft-overlooked spiritual discipline. One definition (from Merriam-Webster) of stewardship is "the careful and responsible management of something entrusted to one's care." If we consider that everything given to us comes from God and belongs to God, everything we have is really just under our stewardship and not truly owned by us, whether our bodies, our time, our money, or other resources in our possession.
The act of living as a steward of these things is a discipline because through it we acknowledge God as the owner of all while we are the caretakers.
Now that I've introduced this idea, I'll proceed to a more personal post about how this has recently played out in my life.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Conformity is Overrated
Have you ever been with a group of people, let's say a Bible study or community group, and felt different from everyone else? Let me set the scene: you respond to a question, express a way you interacted with God over the past week, or share about a past experience and how it fit in with your testimony. You're met with blank stares or silence (or both).
Many years ago I began to share something deeply personal about my past in a small group from church when, at a particularly sensitive moment in the story, several group members began to laugh. Following their eyes, I saw that the hosts' dog was chewing its leg like it was a meaty bone. I never finished my story. But no one was to blame for that response -- it was circumstantial.
I guess what I'm talking about is less about a silly distraction and more a sense of feeling different from everyone else -- of feeling like you've shared something in a way others don't seem to relate to or that your approach to life or God is different somehow. I'm not talking about the "coarse jesting" that I'm often guilty of that Paul tells us to avoid. Or even of the many sinful attitudes I've expressed. It's more just a feeling of not being understood.
My intitial reaction to these situations is usually to avoid feeling that way again, which means trying to act like everyone else. Much less risky. Or to back off from talking as much in the group context (anyone reading this who's been in a group with me probably wonders if I've ever really employed that strategy!). Mostly, it takes me back to the junior high mentality of just wanting to conform.
But I've become convinced that conforming is the worst possible response we can have. I'm beginning to wonder if the very aspects of ourselves that make us feel most different from everyone else might be attributes given to us by God to make a positive difference in the lives of others.
I shared my hypothesis with a trusted friend who kindly pointed out that I tend to not be content with shallow conversation/interaction and ask more probing questions than most people do. She also mentioned that I have a real passion for savoring life rather than just going through life numbly. These traits have often felt like liabilities to me, but I am beginning to see that although they sometimes isolate me or are not initially understood, God has created me this way for a reason. When all our unique traits come together, unencumbered by the darkness of sin, God's character unfolds in wonderful ways here on earth.
Your "assignment," readers, has four parts: 1.) Reflect on situations when you've been in a group and felt different or felt compelled to censor yourself 2.) Talk with a friend who knows you well and try to determine what special traits/attributes your past experiences might be highlighting 3.) Thank God for those traits and ask Him to help you use them for His glory 4.) Start allowing those unique attributes to flourish and don't be tempted to conform any longer!
I'd love to hear your thoughts/experiences/etc. in the comments section.
Many years ago I began to share something deeply personal about my past in a small group from church when, at a particularly sensitive moment in the story, several group members began to laugh. Following their eyes, I saw that the hosts' dog was chewing its leg like it was a meaty bone. I never finished my story. But no one was to blame for that response -- it was circumstantial.
I guess what I'm talking about is less about a silly distraction and more a sense of feeling different from everyone else -- of feeling like you've shared something in a way others don't seem to relate to or that your approach to life or God is different somehow. I'm not talking about the "coarse jesting" that I'm often guilty of that Paul tells us to avoid. Or even of the many sinful attitudes I've expressed. It's more just a feeling of not being understood.
My intitial reaction to these situations is usually to avoid feeling that way again, which means trying to act like everyone else. Much less risky. Or to back off from talking as much in the group context (anyone reading this who's been in a group with me probably wonders if I've ever really employed that strategy!). Mostly, it takes me back to the junior high mentality of just wanting to conform.
But I've become convinced that conforming is the worst possible response we can have. I'm beginning to wonder if the very aspects of ourselves that make us feel most different from everyone else might be attributes given to us by God to make a positive difference in the lives of others.
I shared my hypothesis with a trusted friend who kindly pointed out that I tend to not be content with shallow conversation/interaction and ask more probing questions than most people do. She also mentioned that I have a real passion for savoring life rather than just going through life numbly. These traits have often felt like liabilities to me, but I am beginning to see that although they sometimes isolate me or are not initially understood, God has created me this way for a reason. When all our unique traits come together, unencumbered by the darkness of sin, God's character unfolds in wonderful ways here on earth.
Your "assignment," readers, has four parts: 1.) Reflect on situations when you've been in a group and felt different or felt compelled to censor yourself 2.) Talk with a friend who knows you well and try to determine what special traits/attributes your past experiences might be highlighting 3.) Thank God for those traits and ask Him to help you use them for His glory 4.) Start allowing those unique attributes to flourish and don't be tempted to conform any longer!
I'd love to hear your thoughts/experiences/etc. in the comments section.
Friday, August 21, 2009
The Art of Being Still
Being still does not come easily to me. Oh, I can sit still with the best of them, but quieting my mind is nearly impossible. I am constantly thinking about something, if not multiple somethings. There is so much "noise" in my brain, and I've grown so accustomed to it that I don't know how to tone it down.
When I was dating my husband, I remember riding in the car somewhere with him in silence, looking at him and wondering what fascinating thoughts must be in his mind. Upon asking that common question "What are you thinking about?" (which I rarely ask anymore), the reply was "Nothing." "No, really," I said. "What are you thinking about?" I couldn't comprehend that someone could really be thinking about nothing. And the battle for a more peaceful mind rages on today in my spiritual life.
I'm convinced that, despite my struggle to do so, it's essential that I spend time periodically making a specific effort to be quiet in God's presence and listen to Him or just enjoy being with Him. Or to empty myself of everyday thoughts to make more room for praising His attributes.
The question is, in the midst of our cluttered lives, mentally and otherwise, how can this happen?
Getting out of my house and away from other people tends to help me, though it happens very rarely. Finding a secluded area in a (safe!) park gives me a connection with nature and removes me from anything that might call to mind my to-do list. Even in those circumstances, though, my mind wanders. Sometimes I try to find one single thing to focus on, like a flower, so that I can weed out the junk from my mind.
What I'm really curious about, though, is how can this state of mind and soul be accomplished on an everyday basis, in my own home? If you've got something that works for you, please post it in the comments. Thanks!
When I was dating my husband, I remember riding in the car somewhere with him in silence, looking at him and wondering what fascinating thoughts must be in his mind. Upon asking that common question "What are you thinking about?" (which I rarely ask anymore), the reply was "Nothing." "No, really," I said. "What are you thinking about?" I couldn't comprehend that someone could really be thinking about nothing. And the battle for a more peaceful mind rages on today in my spiritual life.
I'm convinced that, despite my struggle to do so, it's essential that I spend time periodically making a specific effort to be quiet in God's presence and listen to Him or just enjoy being with Him. Or to empty myself of everyday thoughts to make more room for praising His attributes.
The question is, in the midst of our cluttered lives, mentally and otherwise, how can this happen?
Getting out of my house and away from other people tends to help me, though it happens very rarely. Finding a secluded area in a (safe!) park gives me a connection with nature and removes me from anything that might call to mind my to-do list. Even in those circumstances, though, my mind wanders. Sometimes I try to find one single thing to focus on, like a flower, so that I can weed out the junk from my mind.
What I'm really curious about, though, is how can this state of mind and soul be accomplished on an everyday basis, in my own home? If you've got something that works for you, please post it in the comments. Thanks!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Prayer's Block
It all started an embarrassing number of years ago when I heard a radio reading of the day's My Utmost for His Highest devotional. My dad was struggling with yet another health issue, and moments before I had been praying that God would heal him and just let my parents enjoy their remaining time on this earth after all they've been through. Cutting through my previous understanding of prayer were these words (excerpted from May 3 in the book):
Honestly, I'd always thought of "emotional sympathy" for others as a good thing. Really, it's that concern for others that motivates me to pray for them in the first place. I hear of a situation and imagine what it would be like in that person's shoes. I empathize. I am moved to pray. To me, muting that sense of concern would hinder my ability to love others as I should.
But it got me thinking (and has, on and off, ever since): what if what I think is best for someone isn't what God considers best for them? What if He's allowing a difficulty in someone's life to make him stronger in some way, to draw him closer to God, or to make him better able to minister to others?
We can easily agree that God's plan and mine are not always the same. Which leads to another question: How can I see things more in tune with God's perspective? Chambers makes it sound so simple, but for me it seems much harder to lay aside my bias. I don't like to see those I love experiencing any suffering.
These questions have plagued my prayer life periodically since that day I happened to turn on the radio. The result -- a serious case of prayer's block. I've had no shortage of prayer concerns and requests. In fact, I've got lists and lists of them. But my problem isn't the what as much as the how. As I bring my mind and heart into supplicational prayer, I've become so insecure about what to request that I have sometimes given up. It's become quite a roadblock in what is already a stumbling point (spending large chunks of time in prayer has never been easy for me, which I'm sure I'll mention in a future post).
One approach that has been helpful to me has been to look at the prayers in the Bible for inspiration. Paul, in particular, often focuses his prayers on spiritual blessings, so I often pray for those types of things (see Ephesians 1:17-21, for example) for those who request prayer.
Recently, I've determined to push through the blockage by cutting myself some slack and letting myself pray without so much analysis. I won't push aside the issue because I think it's worth consideration, but it's not necessary to let it hold me back so much, either.
I don't remember where, but I once read that prayer is like hanging out a "Help Wanted" sign for God. That's exactly what I'm doing internally and externally right now -- God, I need your help, every moment of every day, in every way. It's definitely a state of being.
I have some other "prayer's block" issues, too, that I'm not touching on now, such as "do my prayers actually change anything?" but I'll leave those for another day. I am reading Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? by Philip Yancey right now, so I'll probably wait untiI finish it.
"...we may find that our obedience to God in intercdeing is going to cost those for whom we intercede more than we ever thought. The danger in this is that we begin to intercede in sympathy with those whom God was gradually lifting up to a totally different level in direct answer to our prayers. Whenever we step back from our close identification with God's interest and concern for others and step into having emotional sympathy with them, the vital connection with God is gone...Identification with God is the key to intercession, and whenever we stop being identified with Him it is because of our sympathy with others, not because of sin...It is sympathy with ourselves or with others that makes us say, 'I will not allow that thing to happen.' And instantly we are out of that vital connection with God."
Honestly, I'd always thought of "emotional sympathy" for others as a good thing. Really, it's that concern for others that motivates me to pray for them in the first place. I hear of a situation and imagine what it would be like in that person's shoes. I empathize. I am moved to pray. To me, muting that sense of concern would hinder my ability to love others as I should.
But it got me thinking (and has, on and off, ever since): what if what I think is best for someone isn't what God considers best for them? What if He's allowing a difficulty in someone's life to make him stronger in some way, to draw him closer to God, or to make him better able to minister to others?
We can easily agree that God's plan and mine are not always the same. Which leads to another question: How can I see things more in tune with God's perspective? Chambers makes it sound so simple, but for me it seems much harder to lay aside my bias. I don't like to see those I love experiencing any suffering.
These questions have plagued my prayer life periodically since that day I happened to turn on the radio. The result -- a serious case of prayer's block. I've had no shortage of prayer concerns and requests. In fact, I've got lists and lists of them. But my problem isn't the what as much as the how. As I bring my mind and heart into supplicational prayer, I've become so insecure about what to request that I have sometimes given up. It's become quite a roadblock in what is already a stumbling point (spending large chunks of time in prayer has never been easy for me, which I'm sure I'll mention in a future post).
One approach that has been helpful to me has been to look at the prayers in the Bible for inspiration. Paul, in particular, often focuses his prayers on spiritual blessings, so I often pray for those types of things (see Ephesians 1:17-21, for example) for those who request prayer.
Recently, I've determined to push through the blockage by cutting myself some slack and letting myself pray without so much analysis. I won't push aside the issue because I think it's worth consideration, but it's not necessary to let it hold me back so much, either.
I don't remember where, but I once read that prayer is like hanging out a "Help Wanted" sign for God. That's exactly what I'm doing internally and externally right now -- God, I need your help, every moment of every day, in every way. It's definitely a state of being.
I have some other "prayer's block" issues, too, that I'm not touching on now, such as "do my prayers actually change anything?" but I'll leave those for another day. I am reading Prayer: Does It Make Any Difference? by Philip Yancey right now, so I'll probably wait untiI finish it.
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