Trust

The wounds are where the light shines through.

What deadens us most to God’s presence within us, I think, is the inner dialogue that we are continuously engaged in with ourselves, the endless chatter of human thought.

“Telling Secrets”by Frederick Buechner. Scribd.

I miss so much of what God is doing in my life being lost in thoughts.

Trying to figure out all the reasons why things are happening the way they are.

The more I think.

The more I talk.

The more confused I sometimes get.

Sometimes God just wants us to be still and listen to what it is that He has to say in the every day, ordinary happenings in our lives.

Yesterday, sitting in church, I noticed a tear slowly trickling down from the corner of my daughter’s eye.

The pastor was talking about the role of a shepherd being to protect the sheep.

My brain was being bombarded by an overwhelming flood of thoughts.

Memories, questions, doubts, fears, hopes and dreams that one day it would all make sense.

I wanted to solve the problem of not knowing what God is doing. I hate not having the answers. I want to know if what I’m hearing is real. Is he sincere? Is this God speaking? Or am I being deceived all over again.

Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.

Even what the enemy meant for evil, God will work it for our good.

Ambivalence.

But then I happen to glance next to me and see a tear slowly trickling down her face.

Sorrow mingled with hope filled my heart.

The wounds are where the light shines through. Switchfoot

And somehow I knew it was going to be ok.

Jesus is here.

Healing is happening for all of us.

Slow down, look and listen.

Stop thinking.

Loosen your grip.

Trust.

Be still.

Lord , my heart is not proud; my eyes are not haughty. I don’t concern myself with matters too great or too awesome for me to grasp. Instead, I have calmed and quieted myself, like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk. Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me. O Israel, put your hope in the Lord — now and always.
Psalms 131:1‭-‬3 NLT

We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves. We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies.
2 Corinthians 4:7‭-‬10 NLT

Losing to Gain

God is the only way.

God calls all of us to take the path of the inner truth – and that means taking responsibility for everything that’s in us: for what pleases us and for what we’re ashamed of, for the rich person inside us and for the poor one. Francis of Assisi called this, “loving the leper within us.” If we learn to love the poor one within us, we’ll discover that we have room for compassion “outside” too…

Excerpt From: “Simplicity: The Freedom of Letting Go” by Richard Rohr.

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul?
Matthew 16:24‭-‬26 ESV

Taking responsibility for everything that’s inside is an overwhelming thought for me.

There’s so much inside that feels scary and out of control.

Emotions churning just beneath the surface.

There’s so much inside that feels weak.

The only way I learned to survive as a kid was to fight to be strong and maintain whatever control I could.

I didn’t get to be a kid.

Abuse forced me to grow up so that I could survive.

The most difficult thing to do is to let go of all the things that I have worked so hard to protect.

It feels like losing everything I worked so hard to gain.

Trusting God when you couldn’t trust your parents seems like an impossible task.

It feels risky.

Like I will lose everything.

God knows this.

He gently leads us to the place where we can learn how to trust.

He invites the child inside of us to climb up into His lap and weep with tears we were not allowed to shed growing up.

You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn through the sleepless nights, Each tear entered in your ledger, each ache written in your book.
Psalm 56:8 MSG

While I fought to survive, He was there.

Guarding my soul.

Taking into account every single tear.

Why are our losses gain?

Why is my weakness strength?

It goes against every thing I learned to survive.

Every child is born with the need to know that they can love and trust someone bigger than themselves.

We need to know we matter.

That we have a purpose.

That we are worthy of love.

Survival is for being chased by a lion through the jungle.

Not for growing up.

I lost so much.

How can I keep myself from losing anymore?

Father of orphans, champion of widows, is God in his holy house. God makes homes for the homeless, leads prisoners to freedom, but leaves rebels to rot in hell.
Psalm 68:5‭-‬6 MSG

God is the only way.

I don’t want to fight Him anymore.

Even though it doesn’t make sense to me that Jesus said our losses are gains. It gives me hope that somewhere on the other side of all these losses there is a place I can call home with a Father who loves me.

Father, help me to trust you.

Rushing to Belong

All of my running seems really in vain when I stop and think about where it has gotten me in the past.

Lately, I’ve been reading Everything Belongs by Richard Rohr. This book has opened my eyes to how desperately I long to belong, and how easily I allow life to cause me to miss the ways that God says I already do.

I realized yesterday how quickly I rush through life. I was frustrated when my computer software was not allowing me to log into the program I needed to use. I wanted to get to the store, but the person on the online chat was keeping me from it. After an hour, with still no resolve, I closed the computer to wait until next week to get someone on the phone who could help solve my problem. I went to the store much later than I planned, which was fine, because actually I didn’t have anything else that I needed to do. Yet, I was rushing for no reason. Running when I didn’t need to be.

I started asking myself this morning why I am running and rushing so much? What is there that I hope to find when I stop running? Why can’t I just settle into the moment, doing what needs to be done taking my time? Is something chasing me, or am I afraid I will miss something if I slow down? Rushing is like driving too fast, most of the time one saves very little time and uses way more gas and energy. I know this in my head, but applying it is another story.

If I look behind, I realize nothing is chasing me and forcing me to move at a much faster pace, other than a culture that seems to always be in a hurry. I believe that I am running towards something that I hope to attain. As I have thought long and hard about this question, I believe Richard Rohr helped me to see what it is. I believe that I am rushing through life in an effort to finally find that place where I belong.

My husband recently had a job change. He’s driving four days a week and almost 200 miles a day. If he goes to full-time at this job, we plan to purchase a home closer to where he works. I struggle so much with staying where we are and waiting until we move. The reality is one day we won’t be here in the town we live in. We will be somewhere else that maybe we can call home.

The past three years of living in the town we are in now has been very difficult for us. Healing from the trauma and losses suffered in our previous church and family has been a slow process.

A three hour conversation over coffee with our real estate agent was an enlightening experience. She encouraged me to let finding the right house just happen, and not try to force it. She pointed out how people often become addicted to looking at houses on real estate apps. She said that sometimes people are still looking for houses after they have already purchased and moved into the one they want. It seems that what we look so diligently to find falls way short of what we expect it to be.

A house in a neighborhood can easily offer the false hope that this is the place we will finally belong.

A pastor who spoke for God on Sunday and flattered me with empty words on Monday felt like belonging, too.

All of my running seems really in vain when I stop and think about where it has gotten me in the past.

It seems to me as Richard Rohr so wisely points out that I need to slow down and realize that I already belong just where I am even if we may not always be here.

But what is logical and what I understand I need to be doing in my head, doesn’t always make it to my heart. Acceptance is a long and grueling process that doesn’t offer the instant gratification that I’m used to receiving when I chase after the things that I want. Acceptance means that I need to slow down, take a deep breath and wait which seems impossible to do for someone like me.

But what if I could believe that God can give me what I’ve been rushing through life so quickly to find? What if I could know that slowing down would actually give it to me? I’d have to slow down to actually know that, right?

How do we find what is supposedly already there? Why isn’t it obvious? Why should we need to awaken our deepest and most profound selves? And how do we do it? By praying and meditating? By more silence, solitude, and sacraments? Yes to all of the above, but the most important way is to live and fully accept our reality.

Excerpt From: “Everything Belongs: The Gift of Contemplative Prayer” by Richard Rohr. Scribd.

God is already with us. Therefore the belonging that I am rushing to find is already here.

What sweet relief this knowledge brings.

I can slow down.

Stop looking.

I already belong.

And this is everything.

Help me, God, to not forget.

That’s plain enough, isn’t it? You’re no longer wandering exiles. This kingdom of faith is now your home country. You’re no longer strangers or outsiders. You belong here, with as much right to the name Christian as anyone. God is building a home. He’s using us all—irrespective of how we got here—in what he is building. He used the apostles and prophets for the foundation. Now he’s using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. We see it taking shape day after day—a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home.

Ephesians 2:19‭-‬22 MSG

If you are like me and need every encouragement to slow down, this video is a wonderful way to remember how to do this:

Godspeed