:: In.a.Mirror.Dimly ::

I’ve heard that fresh cucumbers from the garden are excellent. I wouldn’t really know. All of the cucumber plants from our gardens over the years withered before the cucumbers grew larger than a clementine.

We tried to water and fertilize them. We gave them nice hills. We provided a trellis for them to climb. After three years of trying, nothing.

The first year or two, I can look back at specific things we did wrong. However, during the third year I’d like to think that a heat wave at a critical point in the growing season knocked out our young cucumber plants.

We drove out to our community garden plot to water them, but it seemed that we could never give them enough water. They just turned yellow and wasted away.

It’s frustrating when you realize how little you really can control in life. If I ever lose my temper, it’s usually linked to plumbing or car repair. I usually can’t find what I need, the part I need to remove won’t budge, or things just won’t piece together like they should.

Sometimes people frustrate us when they don’t pick up on how we feel or they flat out ignore what we’ve asked them to do. From a colleague who fails to follow up on an important project to a child who has to be told “no” for the thousandth time, we have daily reminders of how little control we have over our lives.

Unhealthy anger springs up in my life when I try to control the wrong things or when I expect that anything I try to do should be easy. I demand a right to something that I have no business expecting.

There’s no reason why I should expect to have my way all of the time. Who can? Control is given to us in small doses. Faith comes into the picture as a seeming consolation prize.

We can plan. We can act responsibly. Nevertheless, we can’t plan for everything. Life has a way of slipping through our grasp. Problems sneak up and then pounce on us.

In the book of Job, God replies to Job with one of the most dramatic dressing downs anyone has ever received. At one point, God mentioned that only he can tame the Leviathan—a sea monster of some sort that lurks in the story eerily undefined.

Whatever a Leviathan was, God pulled on ocean imagery because the Jews were not known as sailors. They were terrified of the ocean. Maybe 400 years of slavery in Egypt robbed them of a taste for the salty ocean breeze.

When Jews thought of the most out of control place, it was the ocean. In many respects, it still is. And yet, God declared his dominion over the worst thing in an ocean.

Sometimes God will declare “peace be still” in the chaos of our lives and other times we may end up shipwrecked but still alive. Either way, God passes through the uncertainties of life with us.

It’s pretty startling to think that God sends his Spirit to dwell in our lives and then walks through the uncertainties of life with us. Even as we struggle with doubt, fear, uncertainty, frustration, and anger, he is present with us, waiting for us to rely on him.

Much like the disciples who called out in fear during the storm while Jesus slept, panic and anger usually feel a lot more productive than bringing our cares to God. And yet, he’s with us in order to make that possible.

The crazy part about following Jesus is that having less control can actually bring us more peace—that is, so long as we’ve entrusted control in the right place.

The Greenhouse

What do you want to control most in life?

As you pray today, ask God to show you the right way to let go of control in that area.

Taking Root is a series of meditations I’m writing and editing for Central Vineyard Church during the season of Lent. You can download the podcast version of each post by subscribing to my church’s podcast for each day of the series.

Taking Root is a series of meditations I’m writing and editing for Central Vineyard Church during the season of Lent. You can download the podcast version of each post by subscribing to my church’s podcast or visiting the podcast blog for each day of the series.

I sat in the main hall at a conference attended by 1,000 creative, innovative, and smart people. Many of us traveled hundreds of miles and paid hundreds of dollars just to sit in that room together.

• We changed our schedules.
• We missed family time.
• We reordered our obligations in order to be physically present in the same room.

What did we do once we were in the same room together?

Like junkies desperate for a fix, the majority of the people around me poured over their cell phones and iPads, tweeting, texting, and even playing games.

I sat by myself with people all around me who were using technology in order to be “more connected” with more people. The people in that room were connected indeed. They had lots of “connections,” but they weren’t necessarily interconnected with the people either around them or those appearing as bits of text on their devices.

A similar thought crossed my mind when I observed a mother at a café one day. She had just picked up her two kids from elementary school. After asking her children about their days, she began to send text messages while they offered short answers that lacked detail or description.

We are not lacking in connectivity, but where there are many connections, we run the risk of failing to interconnect, to really know someone else, to share our lives with one another, and to even depend on one another.

Connectivity is the Easy Way Out

The easy connection through impersonal technology will always be easier than becoming interconnected with a flesh and blood person who may ignore or reject you. It’s costly, but the quality of that connection has the potential to change lives.

Costs and Rewards of Being Interconnected

Real life change can only happen when we reach out and risk something. The conversation may fall flat. I may say something stupid. There are a hundred ways a conversation can run off the tracks.

However, we may find hurting people who need to hear our stories. By the same token, we may be in need of the support and prayers that only someone else can supply. There are real blessings to be given and received when we are interconnected with the people around us, even if there are risks we take along the way when we reach out.

Interconnected and Intentionally Present

I’ve found that I can easily pass the time on my computer or pick up my phone in search of distraction throughout my day. I’m physically present in many places, but I’m rarely committed to moments with my full attention.

The more I learn to intentionally use my “connected” technology time and guard my “interconnected” people time, the more I see benefits for both. I can use my online time more efficiently if I know that I can’t just log on any old time. In addition, the people around me benefit when I’m a whole person who is fully committed to giving them his full attention.

Technology is great for keeping us in touch with one another, but there is no substitute for the intimate support of reaching out to the person in the next chair over. A loose connection through a website does not replace the nurturing we receive and provide in an interconnected community.

The Greenhouse

Turn off your cell phone for a 30-60 minute stretch today, especially during times when you may be tempted to use it as a distraction. How can you use that time differently? Can you pray? Can you practice breathing and relaxing? Can you ask someone how he/she is doing?

Choose a way you can limit your online connectivity in a healthy, balanced manner today. For example, you may want to turn off the internet for an hour at night. There also are programs such as Freedom that allow you to block your computer’s internet connection for a set period of time. In fact, I wrote most of these Lenten devotionals using Freedom to help me focus.

I have this persona that I adopt on vacation that my wife and I call, “The Clam.” If you’re not familiar with clams, they don’t do a whole lot. They mainly sit around and say nothing. That describes both my ambition and my “action” during vacation.

I have a restless personality. I always like to have something going on. My journal is full of ideas. If some people don’t know what to write, my problem is picking which idea to pursue.

I push myself hard until the inevitable crash, which often happens during vacation—hence, the clam.

Clams don’t make for good company. You wouldn’t want a clam as a friend or a spouse. They just sit around and take up space. My new goal of late is to prevent myself from a severe case of the clams. My remedy? A season of rest.

Defining Rest

I was praying about rest in church yesterday, and I sensed that rest for a writer means not forcing myself to think hard about what I want to write. In other words, if an idea hits and I jot down a few pages about it, that’s easy and even enjoyable for me. However, work is something like this: telling myself, “OK, you’ve got to write something now, start brainstorming, outlining, and writing in order to hit a word count of 600 words.”

We leave tomorrow for a trip out east to visit family throughout Maine, Vermont, and Philadelphia. It’s going to be busy with all of the family we need to see, and as I thought about a season of rest, I decided that it was time to give this blog a rest for a few weeks. However, rest doesn’t mean that I’ll write nothing. It only means that I’ll be posting more irregularly and only when the “Spirit moves.”

Irregularity is a big “no, no” in the world of blogging. You’re supposed to schedule guest posts or set up a schedule of blog posts. As much as I love the idea of doubling my work load before vacation, I have a few reasons for making a full stop season of rest, despite the challenges it creates:

Rest Means the Discipline of Forcing Myself to Stop

There is a battle for control going on. Am I creating a cycle of activity that ends up crushing me? Rest takes me out of that cycle and lets my mind clear for a season.

Rest Means Facing Who I Am

Each day I face the tension of straining to cultivate a quiet inner Spirit that is sensitive to God, while staying on task and pursuing life-giving leisure activities. Once I remove work from the equation, I have a surplus of time to face who I am and what God wants to do with me.

Rest Means Risking the Loss of Momentum

The risk of rest is that I could lose momentum in my projects, readers of my blog, and focus. It will most likely be hard to jump back into the swing of things and to reassert my work schedule and rhythm.

Having said all of that, here are some benefits that I see coming from a season of rest:

Rest Reminds Us That We Have a Choice

When I am removed from the cycle of activity, I can reevaluate my choices. I can see myself in different circumstances and then identify the sources of stress. I can even cultivate new habits that will help my lead a more balanced life when I get back to work.

Rest Reminds Us That We Aren’t Defined by What We Do

Bank accounts and praise from colleagues are important, but rest removes me from those good things that I can raise to unreasonable heights of importance. I’m not defined by what I do each day, but by what God is able to do in and through me.

Rest Reminds Us That a Step Back Can Be a Step Forward

Our culture prioritizes progress, accumulation, and growth. Rest is resistance to these idols—or rest-istance perhaps. When we pull ourselves out of the race, we may be terrified by the unknown. Can rest really bring benefit?

When I have successfully stopped myself, I have found that I often return to my work with renewed focus and energy. Work can be a wonderful blessing, but when allowed to grow too large for us, we’ll find that it can become self-defeating.

There’s a certain inevitability that we all face with rest. We will all need to rest at some point. The difference will be whether we choose to stop or whether we shut down involuntarily, turning into clams that are unable to handle even the simplest interactions.

Choosing rest while we can will save us from the worst of “the clams” and ensure that there’s something left of us for our loved ones during holidays and vacations.

When I saw the enormous flowers toppling over our Christmas cactus on the dining room table for the first time this morning, I knew I had a problem. How long had those blooms been sitting right under my nose while I sat at the table reading, browsing the internet, or staring dumbly at my cup of coffee?

It was like God gave me a pleasant little metaphor of how I approach the Christmas season. It usually looks something like this.

The first Sunday of Advent hits like an unexpected tidal wave. It throws me into a panic because I need to start shopping and getting ready for a spiritually significant Christmas. I now have a deadline. If I can’t get my gifts purchased and wrapped, as well as arrive at a spiritual epiphany by December 25th, I fear that the universe will start to unravel and I’ll be sent into exile—or something like that.

Dread often gives way to guilt until December 25th passes and I’m filled with nostalgia for the glories of Christmas. Ah, I can’t wait until next year…

It struck me yesterday that dreading the arrival of Christmas is sound evidence that my priorities are in the wrong place.

I still love buying gifts for family members, but I don’t want to dread Christmas. I want to enjoy this season of prayer and meditation on God’s love for us. Reading through a daily Advent Devotional has helped immensely. However, I’m still pretty confident that I can screw things up with overblown expectations and busy schedules.

Just as I schedule time to get my work done, to do the dishes, and to even shop, I’ve been working on scheduling time to wait on the Lord. I’m not even hoping that anything in particular will happen.

My goal is to wait in peace and hope, letting God do as he pleases. If I only end up waiting better for the season of Advent, then perhaps I’ll have learned something valuable in the process.

This post is part of Bonnie Gray’s Thursday Faith Jam. Check out her post today: Be Fully Present

I wasn’t going to share this on my blog. My only hope is that God can be glorified by me telling it. I assure you that I’m no saint. I’ve got my issues, but if God can speak through a donkey, he can use me. Here we go…

The comments on a recent blog post impressed on me the crisis we have today when it comes to hearing from the Holy Spirit—namely, there are so many frauds out there, many of us don’t know what it’s like to genuinely hear from God.

Here is my story:

One night I ran out for some lumber and groceries. After picking up some lumber and pocket cash at Lowe’s, I stopped by Aldi for a few things. While checking out, the woman in front of me mentioned “stamps.”

These were food stamps, not postage stamps. She had a full cart, clearly buying food for a large family. When it came time to pay, she started rooting through her purse for change. She wasn’t paying exact change just to be anal like me. She was just trying to pay her bill.

I heard God tell me, “Take out your wallet.” I did. Thumbing through the ones and fives, I heard God speak again.

“Not those. A Twenty.”

Read the rest of this entry »

Over the weekend our kitchen was full of bowls with hacked up apples, huge pots boiling with water, a food mill, and rows of quart jars. The promise of homemade applesauce for the long winter prompted us to spend the bulk of our Sunday hard at work in our kitchen scrubbing, cutting, boiling, and ladling.

I like to play the part of the menial slave who just focuses on one big project: washing the apples, cutting the apples, etc. My wife is far better suited for the supervision and “big picture” part of canning. She’s good at reading recipes and devising a plan.

I’ve never been good at following recipes. I usually forget something. Knowing this tendency, I could stand in front of a cook book for hours trying to make sure I got it right. If I was in charge of making the applesauce by myself, there’s a chance I could still be standing in front of the cookbook today.

When you’re canning something, you need to follow the instructions carefully to ensure everything stays sterile and that you cook your fruit/vegetables enough. The instructions are important, but the nourishment comes from putting them into practice and making something. No actions, no applesauce, no matter how well I think I understand the instructions. In fact, the instructions aren’t doing me much good without the applesauce they’re supposed to produce.

Theology often needs more applesauce.

That is to say, if theology provides us some critical instructions and guidelines relating to the nature of God, they’re only useful to the point that we actually meet the God we learn about. Our nourishment is knowing God and doing his will—it’s like eating a warm loaf of bread.

For all of my pouting about following recipes, the irony is that I often prefer just reading theology over putting it into practice. I’m malnourished because I miss out on God’s sustaining presence. If I’m not producing fruit that will last—or fruit that is “preserved”—there’s a chance that I’ve put too much value on learning “about” God rather than living “with” God.

Recipes are useful for pointing us in the right direction. We need good recipes just like we need good theology, but if the recipes don’t lead to something substantial and life-changing, we’re probably just starving ourselves.

One of the most disconcerting phrases in the Bible may be, “We rejoice in our sufferings.” How in the world could a sane person ever arrive at the conclusion that suffering is something to celebrate?

Even worse, we’re guaranteed troubles, trials, persecution, and other forms of suffering in this world. Something in the back of our minds may tell us this is the case, but it doesn’t help to read that right in the Bible.

In other words, the Bible assures us that trouble is coming. Then, once trouble comes, it assures us that we can rejoice in the midst of it. How does someone arrive at this point? In fact, should we even desire to reach this point?

Discipleship is all about the process where God reshapes us into people with his priorities. We become committed to manifesting his Kingdom in this world and detached from the desire to build our own kingdoms. Instead of building faulty structures for our own security and comfort, the Kingdom sends us out. Before we’re willing to leave our faulty buildings behind, we need to be changed.

Left to our own devices we’ll opt to stay put, to compromise the calling of discipleship. People untouched by the power of God have not been conformed into his image. They will steer clear of anything that could lead to suffering or persecution. They have their own kingdoms to worry about.

We’d never take the risks of discipleship without God’s power in our lives that makes us holy and renews our minds. This process of being conformed into God’s image is why holiness is so critically important for disciples.

As we learn to value holiness, we’ll realize that suffering is a sign that this world is passing away, that God’s Kingdom is our only hope. Suffering helps us see the world from God’s perspective.

Suffering reminds us that our little kingdoms are weak and flimsy. God is present in the midst of our suffering, preparing us for the day when all tears shall be wiped away and our joy will be made complete.

I confessed to my wife last night that I’m a hockey fundamentalist. There’s something so wonderful about the game itself that I don’t see a need to tack on anything extra to “jazz” it up. Here’s an example:

I watched a Columbus Blue Jackets game last night and I saw them score a goal for the first time (yes, it’s been a long 3 weeks). Now, I’m no lover of the loud fog horn they blast at some arenas or that stupid, annoying song that Chicago plays whenever they score a goal, but Columbus merely begins their celebrations by firing a canon. No, that’s not quite gimmicky enough. They tack on a live rock band and cheerleaders.

Cheer leaders in hockey?

Blasphemy.

I longed for the old days of the lame old organ. Yes, I’m a hockey fundamentalist.

I suppose Columbus can keep their rock band, but these gimmicks do say something about the way we add more stuff to things that are already pretty good. More is better and interesting. Take the Amazon Kindle Fire.

It’s not enough to be able to read books on a device. They integrate all kinds of apps that you can use. On the one hand, that is really convenient. On the other hand, the possibilities for distraction are endless. The more we add, the more we jeopardize our attention and discipline.

A Kindle Fire does not lead directly to distraction. It’s not a matter of cause. We’re simply placing ourselves in a position to be distracted. Sometimes the best thing we can do is limit ourselves, place boundaries around our lives, and give out attention wholly to one thing.

There is something wonderfully freeing about being able to focus on one thing, becoming consumed in the observations and lessons of a moment. That alone is my reason for using a journal every day.

My journal goes to church, to bed, and to work with me. I have it at the breakfast table and even tote it along on a car ride if I anticipate some free time. It provides a very simple way to sit and reflect on one thing, following it to wherever it may lead me.

There is no temptation to check e-mail, to tweet a bad pun, or to read the news. My attention is wholly given to the task of jotting down what’s on my mind. This simple discipline is incredibly useful for spiritual growth.

Once God plants a seed in my mind, it has room to grow and flourish in my journal. A simple sentence may spread roots as deep as two pages. Life-changing lessons have developed strong and fruitful in the greenhouse of my journal.

Multi-use devices such as iPads, Kindles, and Nooks have their place for sure. However, as we embrace new technology and tools, we need to be honest about what they lack and what we lose if we switch over to them exclusively.

The pen and notebook are innovations from the past as well. As we gained the ability to write, we stopped developing our memories. It’s not like I’m preserving some kind of golden age in my journal.

My journal provides a way to keep my life simple and focused in a world that thrives on distractions, speed, and endless options. Journaling is a conscious choice to pursue a path that enables me to focus on reflecting or meditating.

After writing in my journal, my mind is sharper and focused, and my ideas and lessons are safely entrusted into a safe place. With my ideas secure, I’m free to power up my computer and watch another hockey game.

I had to confront one of my fears a few weeks ago. It’s a bit too private to share all of the details on a blog, but if I had to list the top three things that freak me out, I’d say this is right up there. It’s the kind of fear that I can’t control, that I know can only be resolved through prayer that I’ve been too afraid to seek.

A few weeks ago, I decided to take action. I wasn’t facing anything life threatening or uncomfortable, but I was in a situation that made it really easy to face that fear. The freak out was pretty awesome: sweaty palms, beating heart, short breaths. I was a ball of fun at close quarters in the elevator that day.

And then something changed. I gained an understanding of the actual source of my fear, and I realized that I’d completely mischaracterized it. It wasn’t quite as bad as I thought, even if it still kind of freaks me out.

By staring into my fear, I discovered a weak point in its defenses, and you’d better believe I’m praying into that weak spot with everything I’ve got.

On Becoming Less Fearful

I had a chat with some classmates at my 10-year college reunion, and one guy asked how we’ve changed over the past 10 years. One friend said that he is now less fearful after working through so many hard times at his first job. He cares far less about what people think of him, and he is far more confident as takes risks and pursues challenges.

In a sense, his first job blasted him with so many sources of stress and anxiety that they soon lost their power. He saw them at their worst, and he realized that God was able to sustain him.

There are real things to fear in this world, but so much of what we fear is insubstantial, lacking teeth. The substantial parts of our fears may knock us around when we face them, but God is able to deliver us because Jesus is Lord over all.

Facing our fears often seems like a terrible at idea in the thick of things. However, we’ll never have a chance to experience God’s power and deliverance unless we own our fears and let him begin working in us.

I have found that deliverance is often a process, a series of stumbling steps forward. As I discovered in the elevator that day with my nervous faith, God can break through and begin to heal us when we face our fears.

Last night I had to clear my tools and some random bits of paper off the mantel. Our knickknacks, mostly rabbit-themed, were bunched at one end, and I spread them out along the mantel.

Moving on from that oasis of order, I started hunting around the kitchen for our metal basket we use for our pens. Upon locating it in one of the remaining boxes, I filled it with pens, a sticky note pad, and some twisty ties.

These were not pressing matters, but they indicated how I felt inside. A messy mantle and a counter strewn with pens reminded me that I didn’t have enough order in my life. I’ve just been rushing from one thing to another, overwhelmed with a growing to-do list.

I realized that I really needed to stop for a bit of time last night and this morning to take stock of where I’m at.

The Signs of Chaos

Self-absorption and anxiety are usually two of my big signs that I need to step back. When other people become a nuisance and my heart races over the slightest problem, I’m clearly doing life on my own.

I’m sure we all have our sins of choice or our messy habits that we turn to when life gets hard. At the very least my crutch of anxiety is relatively easy to spot.

“Why is it suddenly hard to breathe?”

That’s when it’s time to lay on my back to stretch out, take some deep breaths, and pray.

Fighting Chaos in Our Lives

I’ve been working on creating some kind of a routine or rhythm in our new home. Part of finding a routine or rhythm is recognizing when to push and when to stop. That requires acknowledging limits, which feels sort of lazy and un-American.

You know what I mean. What do you mean limits? We live in the greatest, richest, most powerful, most obese country in the world! We can do ANYTHING!

Ah, but limits are what we need. We need to stop for things like:

silence

rest

clarity

peace

There are two things I need in order to fight chaos:

Quiet Moments in the Morning

My quiet time in the morning is critical for getting my head on right by reading scripture and praying, but I also need to organize my day and think it through. If I don’t pray through and think through my day, I’ll just run from one urgent, distracting thing to another without working on the things that are most important.

Without a regular routine, the urgency of the new day beckons and I feel rushed. After hearing her speak last week, I now have a handy little Ann Voskamp who sits on my shoulder like one of those cartoon angels who screams into my ear, “Life is not an emergency.”

My racing heart suggests that such is not the case. Then I start having trouble breathing, and I realize that perhaps Ann has a point. I’ve been making too much of too little, rushing from one thing to another without any sense of order.

Different Paces for My Day

As I work on projects throughout each day, I find that I sometimes need to switch up my pace. I don’t work well doing the same kind of work for eight hours, nor do most jobs demand that we do the same exact thing all day, every day.

Finding the ways to mix and match my day in order to line up with the pace of my mind is critical. I don’t know if that makes perfect sense or if that makes me sound like a lunatic who chewed his way out of the restraints.

Others may differ on this one, but I find that I need to divide my days into following categories: creative, communication/networking, and editing. If I do my networking during my high capacity creative times, then I’m screwed because I’ll have to do my creative work during my lower capacity networking times.

Then I get frustrated.

Then I fall behind.

Then I get stressed.

If I take some quiet time in the morning and pace myself according to some kind of schedule, I can stay grounded in the presence of God and on task. Without those two pieces in place, I end up wandering the house looking for something I can organize.

How do you recognize when your life is out of sorts?

What steps do you take?

Today’s post is part of Bonnie Gray’s Thursday Faith Jam at Faith Barista. Check out her post today.