In. . .

In all of my inadequacy

I stand,

Eyes cast down,

chin quavering,

salt trails glistening

In all of my paucity

of soul I come,

Weak-willed,

straining to have what I want

and to do what You want

In all of my scarcity

of mind

that streaks my days

with fear and grasping,

I hide from the world

In all of my insufficiency

I kneel,

with downcast eyes

and open hands,

letting go my weak will

Lift up your heads

ye mighty gates!

Be opened,

ye ancient doors!

The King of Glory enters in!

In all of His sufficiency

He stands;

In all of His humility 

He comes,

Emmanuel, God enfleshed

In the fullness of time

He brings love,

filling empty hands

and hearts and minds—

including mine

In my empty

He enters, a seed in the

dark womb, burgeoning 

life, growing light—

the Eternal Dayspring

In the first light of day

He is the spark

divine, disgorging the rich,

feeding goodness to the

starving, my soul included

In Him my soul, too,

rejoices—

In my lonely places,

In the unbearable waiting,

He enters in. . .

Unbreak My Heart New

Normal life and my normal self died a few years ago. The problem is, I keep expecting my normal self to resurrect—to look out at me from the mirror again, to take up residency in my heart and home. I keep expecting to be who I was. . .and I keep getting surprised when I'm not that person anymore. The carefree, wide-eyed, faithful-to-have-quiet-time, thoughtful person I used to be sustained wounds so deep that she died. That person is buried under a pile of ashes. Cancer. Death. Divorce. Things that weren't supposed to touch my family torched us. Many of my own hopes and dreams have burnt out, adding their ash to the grave of the person I used to be.

i am desperate, 

if nothing else, 

in a holding pattern 

to find myself.

i talk in circles, 

i talk in circles, 

i watch for signals, 

for a clue.

how to feel different. 

how to feel new. 

How do I get out of this dichotomy? I so often behave in a way that I despise. I know the right thing to do, yet shrink from doing it. I want to go back to who I was or forward to feeling—to being—new. . . anything but this horrible stuck feeling, this stagnant 'living' I've been attempting. The holding pattern never becomes a flight plan and I'm getting desperate. Desperation can push us over the edge, can push us to depression, can push us into a rut, can push us into despising who we've become. In my desperation I've made rash decisions—hoping that a change in life-circumstances would change the dull ache, the incessant indifference into incandescent joy. Hoping I could go back to who  was.

[But,] no one can unring this bell, 

unsound this alarm, unbreak my heart new. 

God knows, i am dissonance 

waiting to be swiftly pulled into tune.

The echoes of the Fall reverberate in my heart, my thoughts, my whole life. . .and it can't be unrung. Carefree me has become careworn and careful—careful not to get hurt anymore. The more I try to gather up all the pieces, to hold them and order my own steps, the less disciplined, purposeful, and joy-filled I am. The more I grasp at control, the less of it I have. Life spins at a crazy pace with no stillness. 

I am all dissonance, the wrong sounds at the wrong times. Saying 'no' when I want to say 'yes,' and 'yes' when I should say 'no' has emptied me. I keep running away from the open arms of Jesus, looking for acceptance from just about everyone else. It's never enough from anyone else, though. The more I look for acceptance from others, the less satisfied I am. Their acceptance rings hollow. All I want is for God to pull me into tune, into step with Him. But running my own way, singing my own song, makes it impossible to walk in step with, or be in tune with, God. My life feels like a cacophony in unconnected, chaotic bursts. 

i know the further i go, 

the harder i try, only keeps my eyes closed. 

and somehow i’ve fallen in love 

with this middle ground at the cost of my soul.

C S Lewis once made the observation that “We all want progress. But progress means getting nearer to the place where you want to be. And if you have taken a wrong turning, then to go forward does not get you any nearer. If you are on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road, and in that case, the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive man.” Indeed, I know that the more I run away, the more I 'try harder,' only plunges me further into the darkness of trying to control what only God can. I've fallen in love with mediocrity, inadequacy, and complacency at the cost of my soul. I've chosen indifference so many times that I can no longer feel. . .and I'm terrified of remaining thus.

yet i know, if i stepped aside, 

released the controls, you would open my eyes. 

that somehow, all of this mess 

is just an attempt to know the worth of my life…

I want to reach back in time and unmake the mess my life and my soul have become. The more I try to experience meaning and depth, the less I can feel. My desire for control—so I can be free, so nothing else can hurt me—has spilled acid-like onto other people, burning them, hurting them, haunting me. I can't feel pain and empathy to much depth anymore—I've burnt myself out. I'm left with hands full of ashes. The ashes of relationships, the ashes of my emotions—a grey film between me and real life. Is this what being a leper feels like? To not feel. . .to not know I'm being burnt when I'm on fire? 

The more I grasp at life, the more I try to hold onto meaning, the more I want to experience feelings, the more they flee and the less I have. Jesus was right, of course: Whoever loses his life for my sake will save it, but whoever insists on keeping his life will lose it... I keep insisting on life as I think I need it or want it. The more I do, the more enslaved I become. Rather than being satisfied, I am insatiable. Rather than being disciplined I am reckless. Rather than really loving God and others, I run from them and shut them out. Rather than being hurt, I wound—and am insensible to the pain I cause. The more I want to feel, the more indifferent I am. Must I remain enslaved to this dichotomy? Where does change come from? Because it certainly does not come from me or from trying harder. 

Change comes like a breath of fresh air into a musty room—it comes from the hovering, order-bringing, healing Holy Spirit Himself. Change – renewal – can only ever come from God. The more I surrender control, the less chaotic life might be. When I submit myself to God, the enemy has to flee from me, and so I am free. This is the the true paradox: that I must submit to be made free, that surrender leads to life. 

I cannot go back to my normal, carefree self. The quivering of the Fall has shaken my life. I have been rent, broken, and buried. But the Resurrection and the Life is at work in me. He has fallen into the ground and died, bearing much fruit—and He calls me, calls us, to do the same. The breath of life will not fill my lungs the same way it did. . .but perhaps the Breath is a person who will expand my breathing, who will give me deeper life—life etched by sorrow and shaped into something more Beautiful than carefree me could have been. 

I'm desperate for new life. To be a string tightened into tune, no longer wanton but free to be in harmony. No. . . Not desperate. I am confident that there is Hope for new life, for retuning and renewal. That Hope is the Anchor for my soul, to keep me from spinning in the circles of a holding pattern. He holds me steady in the storm—and when the time is right, the Anchor is drawn up and the Wind is given full reign to guide the ship. All things have their times and seasons, their proper channels and right order. When the sail submits to the Anchor even in the storm, or to the Wind under the hand of the Captain, it is then the ship is most free.

______

1. Sleeping at Last (Ryan O'Neil), Mercury

2. C.S. Lewis, The Case for Christianity

3. Luke 9:24 TLB (The Living Bible copyright © 1971 by Tyndale House Foundation)

New Year: Discipleship At Any Cost

Lord, I give up all my own plans and purposes, all my own desires and hopes, and accept Thy will for my life. I give myself, my life, my all utterly to Thee, to be Thine forever. Fill me and seal me with Thy Holy Spirit. Use me as Thou wilt. Send me where Thou wilt, and work out Thy whole will in my life at any cost, now and forever.

~ Betty Scott Stam

Last year on this day I arrived in Heathrow International Airport, London, England. I met two of my very best friends. I saw the lights of London from an aeroplane. I caught my first brief glimpse of Oxford. I rode in a bus and a minivan on the left side of the road. I made my first trip to Sainsbury's. In short, I commenced four of the most stretching, rewarding, challenging, gruelling, wonderful, and inspiring months of my life.

This year I look forward into a mist of uncertainty. I have a few goals regarding classes and a job that I would like to apply for. There is the ever growing list of books that I want to tackle. Much Scripture that I want to read broadly then study in-depth awaits my eager eyes and heart.

There is no England, no promise of 6 or 8 hour days in the library, or the gloaming hour reverently passed in evensong. This year, if growth will come it must be at the tutelage of the Holy Spirit, my own bank account, books at my fingertips, good conversations, asking better questions, and perseverance in daily study. If I seek a deeper relationship with God then I must be willing to invest more hours in prayer, seek good commentaries, and read, read, and re-read Scripture. I must be willing to let God change my selfish, arrogant, wretched self into a woman clothed in humility, authority, strength, and holiness.

Already I feel the tug between my flesh and the Spirit. So far the flesh is winning the battle... But I know and am confident that the Spirit will win the war. It is a matter of seeking His strength daily and saying 'no' to the temptations of sloth, gossip, idleness, anger, lust, pride, and smug self-righteousness. Discipline is about to become a word I cannot ignore or set aside. Indeed, Discipline and Surrender are about to become my closest companions.

Father God, I submit to You 2012. It is Yours, and so am I. Rid me of myself. Cause me to decrease, that You may increase. Teach me holiness and love as I have never known them. Let me know You. Let me see even the train of Your glory, that I may understand how great You are. Let me see more and more of YOU.

May I, too, pray with sincerity: Fill me and seal me with Thy Holy Spirit. Use me as Thou wilt. Send me where Thou wilt, and work out Thy whole will in my life at any cost, now and forever.

~ Johanna

Chasing After Beauty

STILL ~ by WATERMARK

The more I get alone the more I see I need to get alone more, more. 'Cause just when I think that I'm alone Your Spirit calls out to me. And even silence has a song, 'cause that's when You come sing over me

Still, let me be still
Let me be okay
With the quiet in my heart
Still, I want to be still
I'm so quick to move
Instead of listening to You
Shut my mouth
Crush my pride
Give me the tears
Of a broken life,
Still

Oh this world, it falls around me and flutters all it's Beauty in my eyes. But let me choose the solitude, Simplicity has always simply changed my life. 'Cause even stillness makes me move, 'cause that's when my heart, learns to dance with You

This song has been on my mind and heart recently. Partly because I have been chasing solitude a good deal in the midst of the craziness of Summit life. Partly because the LORD is teaching me to lay aside my flesh, its desires, my will, my longings, and my chasing of good things over the pursuit of the best things, etc.

All summer in small group I have been pulling out Jeremiah chapter 3 and Ephesians 5:22-32 discussing spiritual adultery and its direct violation of the marriage covenant picture God paints between His people and Himself. I have often called this a discussion of "personal idols" (you should also be able to find this lecture for free on iTunes). I'm finding that I have many. I shan't list them all, it would take all night and I need to sleep soon. Perhaps more will come to light in later posts, but for now, let me share one...

I have a love affair with Beauty. Now, Beauty is not bad. It is Beauty that leads us to the LORD. That is the purpose of the Beautiful. However, sometimes I get caught in the trap of loving Beauty, rather than letting it bring me into the presence of God.

Last week I spent about five days in Pagosa Springs, Colorado preparing the main lodge and guest lodge for 30 Summit Semester students. I drove down to Pagosa with my dear friend, Allison, who kept exclaiming at the majestic peaks we encountered along the way. I kept going on about how green everything was.

One evening I spent about 45 minutes laying under the vast sky and the Milky Way, thick with stars... It captivated my breath and imagination. Yet not the way if often had. There was a constant humming sound, my thoughts were too scattered to bring real conversation with the Creator, it wasn't quite perfect.

Friday morning, before we left for Manitou, I took a long walk up the forest access road into the National Forest. Things quickly became less perfect. Two tanker trucks rumbled past me. The constant sound of distant machinery grated against my ability to pray. I rounded a bend, expecting the noise and trucks to be related to eager hunters.

Wrong. Dead wrong. A bivouac of campers met my eyes. Pick-up trucks and tankers were clustered 'round. A deep gash in the earth made a massive ditch. Three huge silos jutted into the sky. Taller still was the biggest oil drill I have ever seen. A murky sludge was gushing into a holding area. The noise in the midst of pristine Beauty was unbearable. I couldn't decide weather to glare or burst into tears. Once I was safely passed I chose the latter.

"They are ruining my forest!" I fumed to myself. "Stripping the woods of their silence, some animals of their homes." You might see how silly it is that I would think a forest could be owned, and more ridiculous still that I might own it. But this is a particularly special section of land. I am familiar with it. In many ways I do feel some claim to it. Its Beauty has drawn my mind to the LORD so many times. Its stillness has given place to some grand thoughts, deep prayers, and hearty conversations.

What would not come before came. I began to pray. I realized that I was making Beauty an idol. The LORD opened my eyes to see that the fall broke Beauty. Yet brokenness is not the end. The Father began to show me that Beauty thrown into chaos could go three ways: it could be discarded, repaired, or remade.

Repairing Beauty would mean putting all the pieces back just the way it was at the beginning. Remade meant taking the pieces and making them into something even more Beautiful. Suddenly, redemption was everywhere I looked. The loud drilling was still there. The silos weren't swallowed by a crack in the earth. But redemption was possible, none-the-less.

The bush next to me was a picture of redemption: it had long thorns, red berries, and cheery green leaves. The thorns were an obvious reminder of the curse in Genesis 3, the berries of sacrificial blood, the leaves of new life. One day thorns and thistles will cease to infest the world. One day we will see the earth fully redeemed, no longer groaning under the curse. Last week that day hadn't arrived. Sadly, it hasn't come this week either. But the Day is coming. Redemption will make things more Beautiful than they were in the beginning.

Praise to You, O Christ!

~ Johanna