The other day I prayed a lot.
But not at all.
Not really.
I journalled thoughts kind of aimed at God like a wad of paper flipped haphazardly over my shoulder towards the trash can.
I repeated the words of the Lord’s Prayer in church along with everyone else. Really fast like in a race.
Years ago, a wise old couple, (picture Mr. and Mrs. Yoda) – ones who have that “non-anxious presence” that is so winsome – impacted us greatly.
Every time we came away from a conversation with them we felt like our eyes, our hearts, our spirits had been lifted to something higher. We came away feeling richer. Sometimes inspired, sometimes challenged. Sometimes with renewed vision. We started referring to these as “kingdom conversations.”
They said they had learned the quality from people before them who always seemed to be able to redirect the focus of a conversation like a boomerang, away from themselves, back to the other person and the work of God. Not in cheesy manufactured way, but it was just part of who they were.
The other day we were with a group of young friends, discussing a new acquaintance who didn’t seem to be very good at the boomerang game. Not a very good question-asker-listener. Instead, this person seemed to be a little self-absorbed (like we all can be).
It’s Fearless Friday in our One Word year! Catch up and join us!
You may think you have the best family in the history of the universe, but you don’t.
I do.
I know I don’t deserve it. I don’t recycle enough and I can be petty and selfish and I sometimes pray for things like losing weight when many are starving, and there’s a lot of other bad stuff I’m not going to tell you about.
The only thing I can attribute my family to is grace. Period. But there you have it. Yes, we have our own set of crazy, but I’m still convinced my family is the best.
Anyway, now that we’ve got that straight, I want to introduce you to one of my two wonderful brothers. I like to call him “Baby David” and he calls me “Sweet Sis” and he is one of the kindest, most godly men I know. He’s on the right below, washing dishes at Thanksgiving with John.
Last Friday he wrote me such an encouraging note in response to the One Word post. He, like so many of you, will text or email, or FB message me with these incredibly rich insights that others don’t get to see unless they’re in the comment section here on the blog. So I asked David if I could post some of the words from his email and he graciously said “yes.” Here’s what he wrote:
I’m not a mystic. I’ve never heard the audible voice of God, and if you’ve read read this blog at all, you know that being alone with Him, without any other people around to fill the silence with laughter and music and celebrity gossip has been an acquired taste.
But probably the most life-giving, growing edge to my faith over the past twenty years has been paying attention to the promptings of God through the Holy Spirit.
This may sound sacrilegious, but it’s kind of like going on a joy ride with your crazy aunt and not knowing where you’ll end up. You think she’s gonna zig and she zags. You think you’re lost and bam! You arrive at the edge of the Grand Canyon – more exhilarating than any snapshot could have prepared you for.
I’ve been doing something weird lately.
It’s January and I think most of us are feeling a bit schizophrenic. Relieved to get back to the predictable routine of catching the bus to work, and grocery shopping, hair cuts and t.v. shows and recycling.
But there’s also the let down of ordinariness and a bleak winter (for those of us in Minnesota at least) stretching out interminably and we’re thinking it would be kind of nice if there was one more gift to unwrap that was forgotten in the rush.
So I’ve been listening to Christmas music. In January. I’ve left my Pandora Classic Christmas music station on, and it’s been like with all the noise of other Christmassy stuff muted til next November, God’s voice has a chance with me.
I have a lot of friends who are “high-capacity achievers”. I look at them and they are wise and talented, and smart, and “tada!” they have a lot of seemingly easy sucess…kind of like Michelle Obama or Justin Bieber. That would not be me.
The other day I wrote about what it takes to build an airplane (like my friend, Gayle). You know, like what it takes to achieve any humongous goal that seems crazy and beyond possibility without divine intervention.
Friday morning as I was walking home through our snowy neighborhood from the coffee shop where I write, I got to thinking back over this past year, 2012 and two “airplanes” that I set out to build. They didn’t crash and burn. They never even got off the ground! I felt tears sting my eyes (hoping they wouldn’t freeze on my cheeks) as I re-lived my deep, deep disappointment at these “failures”.
One was a fund raiser for starving kids in Africa. I had worked with a team and prayed for 200 contributors. We got about 15. The other was a writing submission that was important to me. It was rejected without feedback. I had a bunch of airplanes that soared in 2012, but, like most of us, it’s easy to obsess about those that didn’t.
I had prayed fervently about both. I thought both would honor God. I worked really hard, and did my part as best I could. I had a team of truth-tellers and consultants for both. I broke them down into smaller segments. I thought I followed all the right steps. But they both failed. Miserably.
So I, like you (if you’ve failed at anything), have been trying to figure out “What now?” Here are some of the questions I’m asking:
Some things are just tough.
Like figuring out why people are fascinated with Snooki, or how to fold fitted sheets, or what makes some people able to eat 316 Trader Joe’s dark chocolate covered almonds with sea salt and not gain a pound.
Or, you know…how to achieve peace between everyone everywhere.
When it comes to the Middle East I keep wanting to say, “Lord I’m a bear of Very Little Brain” like Winnie the Pooh.
I have a long way to go, but God is patient and often a theme gradually emerges. Yesterday I wrote
The truest thing I’m learning about peace is that keeping people at a distance makes it easy to demonize them.
But coming close topples the walls of misunderstanding.
This morning God reinforced this as I re-read the story of when God comes close to Hagar.
Last week I was driving around running errands, preparing for our daughters to arrive for a visit and for me to leave for Israel/Palestine. I changed into the left lane to zip ahead of an old blue-green mini station wagon. As I accelerated past I noticed the car was significantly bashed in as if from an accident. A man was driving the car, smoking a cigarette and talking on his cell phone.
Confession. Here are the three thoughts that went through my head: This guy is irresponsible, unsafe, and makes unhealthy choices.
All that from a 3 second glance in traffic!
If I had gotten close and talked to him I might have learned that he was on the phone with his pregnant wife who just went into labor.
And maybe it wasn’t a cigarette, but a tootsie pop in his mouth.
Perhaps he had been rear-ended by someone texting and driving, and he didn’t have the money to fix his car because he had lost his job in the recession.
Getting close might have given me a more compassionate posture towards this guy.
I have thought often of this 3 second drive by during my time here in Israel/Palestine.
We know from the constant stream of words on the news that there is division and violence, and passionate feelings of injustice among Israelis, Palestinians, Jews, Christians, Muslims…But it’s hard to sort out the complicated details, so if you’re like me, you often tune out. It’s just too much.
Ever have God just show up and startle the bejesus out of you? (and where did that word, bejesus come from?)
First a little background…
Did you know that Minneapolis is the number one biking city in the country? Yeah! Even more than any of the twig-and-bark-eater cities out west! We have more bike paths than any of them.
And there are a heck-of-a-lot-of bikers out there. I know because most of them pass me on their slick road bikes.
When you pass someone the unspoken rule is that you say “On your left.” so they’re not startled and don’t swerve and end up causing a 10-bike pile-up with blood and need for super-hero bandaids.
The problem comes when people (and by people, I mean me) have earbuds in and are listening to other stuff. I get startled a lot. And the other day I got startled when I was listening to a message about hearing God’s voice.
Do you ever feel like you’ve accidentally put on Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak?
A few months ago a couple of people made an appointment with me. I didn’t know what their agenda was. When we met all they did was ask me questions about a painful experience.
And then they listened.
And asked more questions. And listened some more.
They asked, “and then what happened?” and “how did you feel?” and “oh no!” and “what can we do?” like it really made a difference to them.
And here’s the thing. Yes, what was asked and answered was important, but the most transformative thing for our relationship was that when I walked away I didn’t feel invisible anymore. It felt like I mattered. What I thought, what I felt, the pain I had experienced made a difference to them. Have you had an experience like this?
A few years ago my husband and I had the opportunity to spend some time with former President Clinton in a couple different contexts (no he would not remember my name!). Regardless of what you think about his politics or his morals, here’s a man who makes people feel like they matter.
We were wrapping up an interview with him when he saw an African American guy with a saxophone that was about 189 years old in a back hallway. Clinton got so excited asking this guy about the brand of sax he played, and the type he used to play, and the music he liked. He laughed and they swapped sax stories and he asked questions and really listened.
Clinton was so present it was hard for his handlers to tear him away. One of the most powerful men in the world. And he was saying to this man, “I may be the president of the United States, but you matter too.”
This is Joe.
He’s a guy with Down’s Syndrome who has a great smile and a can-do spirit. He’s the guy who sweeps the stairs at exactly the same time every morning at my health club. When I first asked his name he looked scared, like he had done something wrong.
When I thank him each day for his great work he always looks a little surprised. Today I took another step and asked him, “Joe, how long have you worked here? Do you like your job?”
I’ve noticed Joe. I’ve tried to let him know he matters. But how many others do I miss during the day who are longing to be noticed? Feeling like they’re accidentally wearing and invisibility cloak?
What if Jesus hadn’t looked up to see Zaccheus? What if He hadn’t taken time to talk to the woman who touched the hem of His robe?
When is a time when someone made you feel like you mattered? Who are the people you tend to overlook? Who would feel affirmed if you asked a question and listened?
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