Lent 2017 - Day 4 Isaiah 7:4

{More than 5 minutes of writing today because sometimes I'm not quite there yet.}

Isaiah 7:4
"Be careful, be quiet, do not fear and do not let your heart be faint." NASB
"Listen, calm down. Don't be afraid. And don't panic over ..." The Message
"Take heed and be quiet; do not fear or be faint hearted for ..." NKJV

Three different versions of the advice to a king with an enemy on his doorstep.  Today those words speak to me as I face not an enemy but a mountain of 'to-do's.'

Take heed - or listen.  Follow my advice. Pay attention.

Be quiet. Lord, is 'be still' implied in this? It's impossible for me to hear unless I'm quiet, and quiet is usually accompanied by stillness.  Quiet is rare in our world.  Quiet does not happen without intent and purpose.

Don't be afraid - do not fear.  Does this mean don't fear my inadequacies? Don't fear that I will fail? Don't fear that I will disappoint others?

Do not let your heart be faint.  Don't panic.  You mean I have control over this response? What?!?! How?

Faint heart --------- fixed heart
Panic ------------------- promise

My child, fix your heart, your focus on me first.  Seek me first, lay everything before me, and rise to face the day firm and steadfast. This is not advice, it's more like the law of gravity, cause and effect.

My child, panic arises from a lack of trust.  I say this not to chide you but to remind you there is another way.  My promises erase panic.  When you cling to and trust in the truth that I am good, I am love, and I am with you, your heart is strengthened and peace replaces panic.  Another cause and effect.

Lent 2017 - Day 3 - Isaiah 5:15

(My 2017 Lenten discipline - 5 minutes of writing a reflection on daily reading. Unintended - 5 minutes of editing too.;-)

"Man is humbled, and each one is brought low, and the eyes of the haughty are brought low." Isaiah 5:15

Repentance is a hidden blessing of the Lenten season.  I need to be 'brought low,' not in a 'woe is me,' or beating up on myself, but by looking hard and carefully at my pride.

"Thank goodness I'm not like that tax collector."  How often do I allow a similar thought? Thank goodness I'm not like that person lashing out at the checker. Or those two gossiping at the table behind me.  Or the woman in front of me with no teeth.  My thoughts, when I acknowledge them, are embarrassing.

Or what about my pride in comparing myself so I will feel more confident? "My cake looks and tastes better. My kids are better behaved. I'm smarter/wiser/more clever."  Ugh!! So, so ugly.

Or the greatest pride of all - the disease of 'I'm right.'  I know best.  Patting myself on the back and looking down my nose at 'the wrong.' Feeling so superior has to be the antithesis of humility.

I need to climb off my high horse and get on my knees.  I'm sorry, Lord, for thinking I'm more special than any one of your creations.  For exalting myself. My pride is ugly, and I am ashamed.

When I get real and admit my pride, when I acknowledge my ugly thoughts and confess ... grace flows more easily. Humility and repentance uncork grace and allow it begin to flow through me.

Lent - Day 2 - Isaiah 4:1

{5 minute musing (+ 5 minute editing ;-) on one portion of today's reading.}

"...only let us be called by your name." Isaiah 4:1

This half a sentence - a cry, a pleading.  Please let me be called by your name!

To be called by the Lord's name is to be associated with Him, to be grouped with Him, to be owned by Him.  If I have His name, I'm family.  His name is an external sign for all to see that I'm related.

I belong.

I have a place.  I never need to wonder who I am.  I never need to fear because protection is implied by sharing a name. I know that someone will fight for me, that someone will stand up for me.

Also implied by the fact of sharing a name is being chosen.  Unless I was born to this name, the only way I can share it is if I was chosen, if I was invited to be called by this name.  Someone wanted me.

I belong.  I am chosen.  I am wanted.

Lent 2017 - Isaiah 1:3

Lent.  My favorite season of the church calendar. Permission, encouragement even, to let go of good things in order to pursue the best thing.

Writing is a vital part of my relationship with God (a part I frequently neglect) so my Lenten discipline this year is to write for 5 minutes reflecting on something I read in the She Reads Truth devotion for the day.  This year they are spending Lent in the book of Isaiah - MY FAVORITE BOOK! - which only increases my excitement.

5 minutes of writing a day.  I can do this.

Day 1
"But Israel does not know, my people do not understand" Isaiah 1:3

I am Israel.  I do not know nor do I understand.  This is because I'm trying to apply my own knowledge and to understand out of my own capabilities.

So often the answer is rest and receive.  When I'm focusing on gathering knowledge and trying to work out understanding like God is a logic puzzle to solve, there is no space to receive.  It's all me - and little of God.

Maybe that's what this 5 minute exercise is for - 5 minutes to rest and receive.  To actively listen and thereby begin to know and understand.  To be like Mary for 5 minutes and sit at the feet of Jesus. (I can spare 5 minutes, right?) Because I'm me, I sit at his feet and take notes.  I think that's ok since I write to add another R - Remember.

I want to know. I want to understand.  Is it possible that the way to knowing and understanding is to rest, receive, and remember?

Weak

A month ago I stumbled across Kate Motaung's Five Minute Friday blog challenge.  http://katemotaung.com/five-minute-friday/

Each week she posts one word and the challenge is to write for 5 minutes on that word.  I thought I'd try it to encourage myself to write.  The exercise was amazing and revealing for me, stretching me, pulling me, provoking me.  Last Friday's word was weak.

Weak

"When I am weak, I am strong."

The foolish things to confound the wise.

How to celebrate weak? How to stand weak on its head?

---from vulnerable, incapable, needy, disrespected ....

---to strong, God-reliant, confident, humble.

I hate feeling weak and helpless yet that visceral emotion reveals a true weakness - lack of trust.  Weakness of strength, capability, the ability to stand firm in trials or troubles is ALL provided for by a relationship with God.  Lack of trust is the weakness that limits my ability to receive and therefore overcome the difficult, withstand the unstable, and thrive instead of survive.

Awake my Soul

Coming home from a retreat is often a slam back to reality.  And even the most profound insights get lost under the laundry, dirty dishes and to do lists.  This retreat was all about incorporating rest or whitespace into daily life in very practical ways, and I'm determined to follow through and pursue the presence of God through whitespace.

It's seems somewhat ironic to me that the method to awaken my soul is to be quiet! Noise to me is not just about sound but about inputs.  Noise can be words, can be social media, can be email and can also be people asking me questions, can be the radio or can be TV.  Quiet for me is closing down those input, and that is what brings me rest.

The other day I realized I was in a room alone and could anticipate an hour free from interruptions.  Instead of grading chemistry tests, checking email, or working on the project due by the end of the week, I indulged in meditating on scripture via the WordSwag app.  At first I felt guilty, but then I realized that reading and re-reading the words, choosing a photo for the background, and switching out fonts until I found one with the right 'feel' allowed me to dwell on the verses in a different way.  The resulting images speak to my soul.  The process gifted me with 30 minutes of unexpected soul rest.

Advent and Paradox

(I wrote this while listening - over and over.)
The Piano Guys "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel"

A sadness permeates me this advent.  I know the reasons – life…sin. But the ache begins to resemble a longing.  And the cello in The Piano Guys “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” cries my longing.

Yes, this is a season of joy.  But waiting for the coming of Christmas, of the coming of Christ, is also a longing time.  2000 years ago they waited for freedom from captivity.  We are not so different, only our captivity is different.  They longed to be free, we long to be free, and so we should.

The kingdom is here and not yet.  Paradox.  Christ came and brought freedom to captives.  The freedom He offered in the flesh 2000 years ago was not what people expected.  Similarly the freedom He offers today is frequently not what we expect or what we plead for.  We live in a world of sin and suffering, with an enemy that seeks to steal, kill and destroy.

For the first time, my observance of advent is more focused on the longing than any of the trappings of Christmas.  We will decorate.  We will celebrate.  But the joy and sorrow of this year, the changes, the stumblings, the growth, are all tangled together leaving me overflowing with paradoxical emotions.

Come, Lord Jesus is a cry and a comfort.  I begin to understand that I’m waiting, not just during advent, but I’m waiting for much longer and for much more than the coming of Christmas. For Christ’s return.  For a new world.  For complete freedom. 

I rejoice that I’m finally grasping part of the bigger picture.  I shouldn’t be too comfortable here because this is not my home.  As I live and work and love and laugh and weep and struggle I SHOULD be longing.  For the first time I don’t just sing the words, but I FEEL the words.  Come, please come, Emmanuel.  God with us.