The Dutch-Italian-Ukranian...and all those...Job

So there it was.
The coldest night of the year.
Not so much Bruce Cockburn's rendition,
but Winnipeg at its finest.

And the 3 cars lined themselves up.
First in the alley.
Weapons of TP and water in hand.
Then in front of Mac's.
Because really,
what else is there to do
on the coldest night of the year
than go for slurpees?
Especially in Manitoba.

So Bruce,
and Hugh and his island chain,
and all those fine cast members
who got to drive Austin Minis -
to you I say, "Amen."

"You need three at least."

An a-choir-ed appreciation...

Well, it's official.
I love listening to the concert choir.
In large parts of myself,
I can't listen to music that is "choir-y".
Yeah, so I don't really know how to describe that differently.
But Dordt's concert choir was here tonight,
and they seem to have the same full sound
whenever I hear them.
Different voices every time,
but somehow the same, full sound.

I was disappointed at first that they weren't singing the "classics" -
or perhaps just the "classics" from my years at Dordt.

I wanted to hear "This Is My Father's World" and "Abide with Me".
The truth, however, is that they had two other songs
that struck not only a chord
but a heart-string.

Their version of "My God How Wonderful Thou Art"
was incredibly powerful.
It also had a most delightful paradox in its text.

The part that usually goes, "your endless wisdom, boundless power, and awesome purity" had the word "awful" in place of "awesome". And it filled that line with new meaning.
When do we use "awful" as a positive descriptor?
Never, I'd be tempted to say.
And that's what got me.
It's so awesome - we are full of wonder at His purity - full of awe, as it were.
Awful indeed.

"And You have stooped,
to ask of me,
the love of my poor heart."

Wonderful indeed.

Clearing up confusion...

In case there was any confusion...
because I confused myself
into thinking that the last title should have been about hockey
but it was about a frozen lake.
There are some correlations I could make
between hockey and faith, too,
but not for now.

However, in hockey news -
besides the fact that the Oilers are not doing so hot -
the college hockey team that my brother coaches
was just ranked 4th in their division of the American Collegiate Hockey Association.
For the record,
I'm pretty proud.

Go Blades!

On the ice as in life?

There's nothing quite like being out "there".
"There" being someplace where it seems like time stops,
worries disappear,
God is big
infinite
Creator
bringer of peace to my soul
full of love for little me
and I am humbled and so wonderfully not the focus.
The silence swallows me up
and I am overcome by awe
at the expanse of the sky
the brightness of the moon
and the incredible reminders
that I am in His presence...
not just "there"
but sometimes I need "there" to remind me.

I found myself at Bird Lake for awhile last week
and discovered the rest my heart and soul needed.
Peace.
Peace that seems so much easier to grab hold of when I'm surrounded by quiet and creation, and this time, surrounded by what seemed to be infinite amounts of fresh, deep snow.

The evening we were there, a few of us decided to walk across the lake.
Despite the concern of others
and the few spots of slushy snow along the way
we trudged through the knee-high (for me, anyway) snow
guided by the incredible light of the moon
tried, but failed, to call wolves and moose
and arrived on the other side.

Along the way we held a short discussion about wanting to see how much pressure it would take to actually break the ice and fall through.
Interestingly, we had 3 different ideas.
One of us wanted to find a slushy spot and jump as hard as possible to see if it would really break the ice.
One of us thought it would be fun and would gladly observe and encourage someone else to try the aforementioned approach, but would be too scared to actually try it on our own.
The third of us thought they would be gung ho to watch or partake, but would first go and get the necessary rope and safety equipment necessary to ensure that if the ice cracked there would be a rescue system in place.

As we sat with our feet on the coffee table and sang,

me, with boldness in my heart -
"Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it; prone to leave the God I love..."
I couldn't help but ask,


"What does my faith look like?"
I reflected a few times over how each of our approaches to the ice reflect different approaches that we as individuals, but also each of us within
different situations, take as we encounter God and put (or don't put) our trust in Him.

Sometimes "wandering" is not remembering how much God loves me, but going out and trying to jump through the ice when deep inside I know it's not the brightest idea.
Sometimes "wandering" is trusting God to take care as long as it's not me in the situation. My faith falls short when I'm the one being asked to jump on the ice as opposed to my adventurous friend.
Sometimes "wandering" is not trusting enough, but making sure all the right safety measures are in place before taking that leap "of faith" (or is it?).

On the other side, sometimes faith is jumping - not knowing if the ice is strong enough or not, but trusting that God will hold us.
Or faith is trusting that God is immeasurably able to do more than we ask or imagine, but not feeling called to follow Him in a certain area. And in turn, entrusting loved ones to His care as they answer calls that seem crazy, but nudges from the Holy Spirit nonetheless.
Or faith might be using what we have and what we know to serve and live lives that are indeed holy and pleasing, and that acknowledge the God given talents and wisdom we have.

That's a lot of hmm.
And a lot of asking God where I've wandered.
And then a lot of asking Him to help me trust -
when I feel secure
when I feel called
and even, or maybe especially, when I don't
or I'm not sure if I do.
When the ice seems thin and slushy
my question really ought to be,
"Am I trusting that God is bigger than me
and do I really believe
that He is holding me in His hands?"

They're good hands to be in.

The deep stuff...

So after being told "enough of the deep stuff", I decided to take a momentary detour away from "the deep stuff" as it were into...well...the deep stuff. (Sorry, Mel...)

Here is indeed the deep stuff that we woke up to on Dec. 31 resulting in no church, lots of shovelling, fun driving, and a postponed trip to the cabin.


Upon leaving our New Year's event, I could not resist jumping into the mid-thigh snow pile along the driveway and making the first snow angel of 2007. I had to take a few swings to get myself out of the leg-holes and onto my back, and I understand that my landing held a resemblance to a cannonball in the deep end as all the powder went flying up.


What followed was a day and a half out at Bird Lake - walking in "the deep stuff", diving in "the deep stuff", falling in "the deep stuff", being pushed into "the deep stuff", shovelling "the deep stuff", and moaning about how tired I was from trying to keep up with my long-legged friends whilst trudging through "the deep stuff".

Did I mention that I love winter?
What loveliness!

Blips on the radar...

So, Donald Miller has been set aside for awhile.
He's at home.
And I am not.

However, I've had the great pleasure of reading "Velvet Elvis" by Rob Bell.
And although I'm not a convert
I like that he gets me thinking
and asking questions
and really
doing what it takes to learn
and to grow.
Being challenged
and disagreeing
and agreeing for that matter
but being reminded of what it is to not only read and think,
but to do.
To be.

"'Your job is the relentless pursuit of who God made you to be...'" (114).

"God doesn't just want to reclaim things; God wants to see them move forward" (161).

"[The first Christians] saw it as their responsibility to put Jesus' message on display...it was less about proving and more about inviting people to experience this community of Jesus' followers" (164).

And lastly, perhaps my favourite at this point:
"Why blame the dark for being dark? It is far more helpful to ask why the light isn't as bright as it could be" (166).

So what are we doing?
What am I doing?

I recently saw "The Pursuit of Happyness".
Great movie, for the record,
but I like the "relentless pursuit of who God wants me to be" even better.
Why?
It's not over.
It's relentless.
And it's not about "happiness"
(or "happyness" as it were)
But it's about that nudge that God places in your heart.
And it's about joy.
Joy that sticks when happiness isn't a reality.
And it's about becoming
rather than arriving.
Something I've mentioned before.

Rob Bell talks a lot about how it's a journey
not a destination.
And I like that.
It means I'm not there yet.
And I won't be.
It means others aren't there yet either.
We're in this together.
Learning.
And living.
And stumbling along the way.

Invite people to really, truly experience this community of Jesus' followers.
And hear their excitement at discovering Jesus.
Grace.
Truth.
Humility.
Love.

Perhaps you'll hear your own excitement at discovering Him, too.
I'm anticipating a little of my own.

So I may get kicked out...

...but I think it's worth a thought anyway.

Yeah, it's Miller again.
Really, I do still know how to think for myself.
I think.
I'm pretty sure.

So he's writing about the gospel of Jesus.
And how sometimes, we tell the whole story --
all the facts
the "five steps"
and what it all means,
but we leave Jesus out.
We forget the part about Jesus being alive and at work in our lives.
We forget that even though the facts are important,
it's the stories the deliver the heart of the message.

The stories of a Miracle Worker.
The stories of hurting people
who found grace and solace in a Saviour.
The tales of lost who were found.
Of real people,
with real experiences
who have come to know God
by being in a relationship with Him.

Miller talks about how our experience of Communion -
"sitting quietly in a large building that look[s] like a schoolroom or movie theater, to take Communion" -is so different from how the early church celebrated this same meal -
"sitting around somebody's living room table, grabbing a hunk of bread and holding their own glass of wine, exchanging stories about Christ, perhaps laughing, perhaps crying, consoling each other, telling one another that the Person who had exploded into their hearts was indeed the Son of God, their Bridegroom, come to tell them who they were, come to mend the broken relationship, come to marry them in a spiritual union more beautiful, more intimate than anything they could know on earth."

And I think to myself,
(see, I do still think!)
I know it's different.
And I know there are reasons for all the formality,
but there is something unique and sacred
about really sharing Christ in a way that actually feels like sharing.
Really being an active and alive part of a body of believers.

Hmm.

"Friend" of sinners...

I've had a page bookmarked in my latest Donald Miller read for the last 6 days and decided it's finally time for me to sit down and share this fine thought with the rest of you.

The chapter I'm reading is looking a little bit more deeply into some of the characteristics of Jesus that are evident as we read the gospels. One of the characteristics that has meant a little more to me is that Jesus liked to be with people.
Don't get me wrong.
He also went up on the mountainside to pray on His own
and to have that down time/quiet time/ time with His Father.
But there's a little piece of what Miller said that got me to thinking.

"Jesus built our faith system entirely on relationships, forgoing marketing efforts and spin.

Not only that, but one of the criticisms of Christ was that He was a friend of pagans. Not that He hung out with pagans, but that He was their friend."

And I think to myself,
It's all about people.
He has called us to love one another.
And that's it.
That's the clincher.

Someone did a solo of "O Holy Night" tonight.
And it struck me again.

"Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace."

His law is love.
A good friend and I were discussing this a few years ago
and our conversation still sticks out in my mind.
He kept going on about how complicated we make it and how simple it's supposed to be.
Not that really, truly loving someone is simple.
But that the concept is so straight forward.
And in that we are answering God's intense call for obedience.
Loving Him means loving others.
It means living a life that's not about me.

He didn't just hang out.
He befriended them.

He befriended me.

Peace. Peace?

Funny thought. Funny question.
Are there things in your life you wish you didn't have peace about?
Things you wish would be different, only you feel called to be in them the way they are?

Generally we talk about looking for peace.
And finding it when we know we are being obedient to God.
Trusting that He holds all of the details our lives in His hand.
Which is completely and fantastically true.

Only it leaves me with a bit of unsettledness.
A lot of asking God why.
And a lot of learning to love and trust Him because I know that He has my best in mind.
We sang a few songs tonight that made me chuckle.
I chuckled because God has this uncanny way of giving me what I need at the most opportune (or sometimes what seems to be the inopportune) moments.
Following a long conversation with someone about trusting God -
even when in my head certain things make no sense,
but there is an immense amount of God's peace surrounding them -
I arrived at church and was greeted by a time of "favourite hymn selection."
I didn't pick one.
Even though I am always ready to call out 489 at any moment.
(Hmm. There's an irony that just made me chuckle...489 is about peace - and being well in one's soul...)
Anyway, the first 2 songs were "If You But Trust In God to Guide You" and "Have Thine Own Way".

Now, riddle me this.
Is there a better set of songs to follow a conversation on not "getting" God,
but knowing that we have to trust and follow whatever the call -
whatever cross we've been asked to carry -
whatever it is in our lives that God is asking us to push aside in order to be obedient to Him?

Heh.
I'm glad that God gives me the grace to chuckle at me
and at the way He reminds me of what I need to hear
and at life itself.
Is there a better way to end an evening at church than with a shoulder shrug,
a shaking of the head,
and a good laugh?
Perhaps.
But that seems to be the pattern as of late.
And so far it seems to be doing well for my soul.

Benedictine Monks...

A group of us engaged a challenge over the last few weeks:
to spend time in silence
simply acknowledging the presence of God.
Not thinking.
Not praying.
Just being.
And being in awe.

It's not always an easy thing to do.
My brain takes over.
I start to think
even about how I need to think about how aware and silent I'm being.
It's ridiculous.
But a good challenge.

Miller (some of you my be sick of hearing about him, but I'm only on p.61, so that's just too bad!) was talking about a book by Kathleen Norris and how she talks a little about Benedictine monks and how they would stay up late at night to study the Bible by candlelight. And I think to myself, yeah. Sigh.
There is something about darkness that makes the presence of God seem much more powerful -
or I'm simply more aware of it.
Perhaps it's the glimmer of light in the dark.
Perhaps it's simply the fact that it's dark so there are less things to distract me.
Either way, it's a powerful image.
And one I thought I'd share.

A Little Sermon in a Nutshell...

I feel somewhat lacking in wisdom.
that there ought to be something deep going on in my life that I should be able to reflect on.
And the truth is that there's a lot of "deep" going on in my life.
Maybe too much.
And I don't really feel like reflecting on it.
I want things to go back to being a bit more simple.
You know - easier.
I was enjoying those days of being full of joy all the time.
And really seeing all of life's twists and turns in a positive light.
And deep down that hasn't changed.
It just seems that God is grabbing my heart.
Which is a good thing.
It's just that it's challenging.
And frustrating.
And stretching.
And forcing me to be aware of myself
and at the same time
be full of prayer-filled attempts
at making the details of life "not about me."
It seems that every song, every book,
every Scripture, every sermon
is giving me a reason to be affected.
Part of me thinks this is how it's supposed to be.
This might be the closest to a living faith journey I've been on in awhile.
Not that I haven't had some incredible moments of living faith prior to the last 6 or so weeks -
but the challenges -
the roadblocks, the potholes, the chips in the windshield, the U-turns,
and let's not forget the asking for directions -
are what make it a journey - a road trip as it were.
That's when the maps,
the company
the music
and the snacks
make it great.

So, friend, thanks for sharing dinner.
Chris Tomlin - indeed "You and I Were Made to Worship."
Go Dutch Meatball soup, orange water, and frosted mini-wheats.

And for the map...
I picked up the Phillips Translation of the Bible that used to be my Grandpa's off the floor beside my couch a few moments ago. It was the contemporary version in his day. Much like our Message.
In reality, I picked it up thinking there had to be a gem worth sharing as I felt very much lacking something to share.
Funny how God does His thing.
I opened it up to the end of 1 Corinthians and found the heading, "A Little Sermon in a Nutshell," and this is what it reads:
"Be on your guard, stand firm in the faith, live like men, be strong! Let everything that you do be done in love."

I needed to hear the "stand firm - be strong!"
God is good and God is faithful.

I also needed to be reminded to do everything I do in love.
That's not always an easy one.

Roll down the window.
Enjoy the road trip.
And find the joy in the journey.

Finding beauty in truth

I picked up Donald Miller again today.
I decided that after a day where I came home in "one of those moods",
I needed to get my head back in the game.
I will also note that a nap was needed and taken.
However, before I got to napping, I got to a nugget.
One of those pieces that just hits you where you need to be struck.

In this journey we call life
or faith
or perhaps an intertwined combination of the two,
it seems that we often have high expectations of God.
And don't get me wrong.
He is good.
He wants to bless us.
He takes care of our needs.
But it's like we forget how blessed we are and take it all for granted.
When things take unexpected turns,
or we are let down
or people hurt us
or we feel alone
we fight to really live what it is we say we believe.

If "the joy of the Lord is my strength"
than why do difficult circumstances have such powerful control over my perspective on life?

It's not that the truth about God has changed.
There is something, however, about how I view what I know to be truth.

And in walks Donald Miller.

"The truth is that there are a million steps, and we don't even know what the steps are, and worse, at any given moment we may not be willing or even able to take them; and still worse, they are different for you and me and they are always changing. I have come to believe that the sooner we find this truth beautiful, the sooner we will fall in love with the God who keeps shaking things up, keeps changing the path, keeps rocking the boat to test our faith in Him, teaching us to not rely on easy answers, bullet points, magic mantras, or genies in lamps, but rather in His guidance, His existence, His mercy, and His love."

For the record, the piece about "His love" was in italics.
It needs emphasis.
God hasn't changed -
even if the way He's getting me to where I am going has.

We have sung "Guide Me O My Great Redeemer" the last few Sundays in church.
And it's quite fitting, I think.
It's a journey.
The travel route is different for each one.
But the Guide is the same.
And in that there is joy.
And a beautiful truth.

Musings as of late...

Yesterday someone gave me a pleasant reprimand for hosting people at my house all the time. They were referring to people who aren't good at being served. I think it was well-intended, but got me to thinking about the why and the how and all of that.
I enjoy it.
Serving, that is.
It feels good to bless others and to see them smiling.
And since I enjoy it, it makes sense to use it in a way that benefits others, not?
It doesn't feel like work or like hard-fought obedience.
Rather, it just is.
And it's good.

This afternoon I was reading a piece out of "Tuesdays with Morrie" and I came across a piece about giving; about making life about others instead of about oneself. It went like this:
"...giving to other people is what makes me feel alive. Not my car or my house. Not what I look like in the mirror. When I give my time, when I can make someone smile after they were feeling sad, it's as close to healthy as I ever feel.
Do the kinds of things that come from the heart. When you do, you won't be dissatisfied, you won't be envious, you won't be longing for somebody else's things. On the contrary, you'll be overwhelmed with what comes back."

And I thought to myself, "Amen!"

The key is ensuring that the giving is done for that reason -
the reason of loving my neighbour as myself -
considering others better than myself.
It's not about me.
It's not about my car
(those of you who see my beauty on a regular basis may have pre-determined that part of my philosophy... :) )
Or my house -
Or the frizz and the glasses -
or even the straightened look.

Giving feeds into life.
Into feeling alive.

One of my favourite proverbs has always been:
"A generous man will prosper; he who refreshes others will himself be refreshed."

And I think it holds true as long as I'm not trying to do it in my own strength.
Then I simply get burned out.
But it comes back to that Psalm 29 business.
"The Lord gives strength to His people;
The Lord blesses His people with peace."

Indeed He does.
And in His strength, refreshing others
is an incredible source of refreshment.
Of giving life, even.

"...take hold of the life that is truly life..."

Getting "All Fired Up"...

So it's still kind of a cop-out because it's not really me,
but it's something I love and have been challenged by.

I mentioned awhile back that I found another Linda Siebenga poem while looking for the one about getting on our knees in the berry patch. And I know that this one is more directed at Pentecost, but really, I think it's directed at everyday. I think it's often our everyday fear that if we pray for God's Spirit to work in our lives, it just might happen.
Anyway, it's worth a read.
And a think.
Even a thought or two.
Thanks, Linda.

A Mighty Rushing Wind

What if today the sound
of a mighty rushing wind
would fill this building
and flaming tongues appeared
above each head
our tongues becoming loosed
and eloquent
to bring the good news?

Perhaps we fear this mighty
rushing wind.
Fear that it might blow
through us.
demand our lives
our souls
our all.

Wanting just a little of the Spirit
to keep us through the day
but not a great mighty amount
rushing through us
with a surge of emotion
upsetting our conservative poise.

Wanting a little of the Spirit
to warm our lives
but not a flame hot enough
to sear
to cauterize
our sinful soul wounds.
Not so hot that we will be
compelled to share our fire.

Dare we sing “Come Holy Spirit”
with more than voices
knowing that he might come
filling us with exuberant praise
that needs to be shared?
“Come Holy Spirit
Comforter
Counsellor
Lover of my Soul.”

~ © Linda Siebenga from her book - “Windcatcher”

The 7 minute lull...

So they say that every 7 minutes
there is a lull in conversation.
And people have to decide
if they're comfortable with the silence.

It's been a 15 day lull.
I'm not really comfortable with that.
7 minutes?
I can handle it.
In fact, I kind of like it.
It's good to be in silence with people.
To just be.
And to know that you are in a safe place.
A comfortable place.
Where your mind isn't spinning.
It's just "being."

15 days, however...?
I apologize.
I'm back.

So, it's settled then...

Settled.
It sounds kind of final.
Sometimes I'm good with final.
Other times I'm really not.
Every now and then,
it ironically makes me feel completely un-settled.

Settled reminds me of coffee grinds
in the bottom of my cup
and how that means that I won't get them stuck between my teeth.

It sounds like an arguement that's over.
Or a decision that's been made.
It sounds like the pioneers
(or the people of Catan :) )
going into unchartered territory
and making a place for themselves.
A place to call home.
And home is a good thing.

Settled can be kind of a dangerous word, though,
when it makes us feel too safe,
too unwilling to step out of our comfort zones,
too afraid to stand on a desk for our "Captain",
or to forget that it's not about what we don't feel capable of
but rather of what we believe
that God is capable of.

Let it not be, "Oh you of little faith,"
but rather,
"Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we could ask or imagine..."

May we feel settled enough in the grace of God
to be open to
and even to invite
some un-settling within;
evidence of His Spirit
taking up a settlement in our lives.

And most fittingly,
following a settlement
ought to come a bit of development.
An ore, a sheep, and a wheat anyone?

And on that note one more time...

Sheesh.
Three posts in one day.
God must be trying to teach me some things.

I heard "hang in there" in two different contexts today.

The first left me feeling hopeless
as the response given to me when I offered those words
was disheartening and non-committal.

The second didn't leave me feeling much better, to be honest,
but more because of the way I responded to them.
The words were spoken to me
and I answered with my self-pitying acknowledgement
of how that seems to be one of those gifts that I have,
but sometimes wish I didn't.

Until I went about "hanging in there"
and realizing how it's not really me who "hangs in there".
I opened my phone on the way home from the second conversation to check the time.
And noticed the verse that I never notice on my display screen:
Ps. 29:11 -- which says, "The Lord gives strength to His people; the Lord blesses His people with peace."

I am not a rock.
I can "hang in there" because God gives me the strength to do so.
Not because I am strong and immovable.

One more quote for today.
This time really, truly in the spirit of it being Thanksgiving.
It comes from a song by Caedmon's Call
and it goes like this:

"I am thankful, that I'm incapable of doing any good on my own."

It's in His hands.
He surprises me often
and provides for needs I didn't know I had.
They're good hands to be in.
And I think the second "hang in there" had more to do
with trusting those promises and His provisions to be true.

On that note...

On that note of community,
I would like to share the simple joy
of sitting at a table in Tim Hortons
with good friends
eating donuts
and drinking hot beverages.
Although I love the drive-thru
and I really do
there's something delightful about
sharing Tim's with friends
and not just enjoying it on my own.

An Island Chain...

So perhaps the fact that it's Thanksgiving - a time when a person is inclined to be with family, or "family" as it were,
(thanks for so many dinner invites, "family") -
and that a large number of people have asked me in the last 3 weeks how I feel about living in Winnipeg,
and the fact that the youth want to have our Sunday morning worship time on the island at the cabin,
I have done some thinking about this "island" vs. community business.

First, a thought from "About a Boy"...

"In my opinion, all [people] are islands. And what's more, now's the time to be one. This is an island age."

And a thought from Simon and Garfunkel...

"I am a rock
I am an island
I've built walls
A fortress deep and mighty
That none may penetrate
I have no need of friendship
Friendship causes pain
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain
...If I never loved I never would have cried
...I touch no one and no one touches me
...I am a rock
I am an island
And a rock feels no pain
And an island never cries"

That thought of being an island.
A self-sufficient being that is capable of existing alone.
Of not hurting.
Or having emotion.
Funny how it's not really possible.
Sometimes we pretend that it is.
And some of us pretend pretty well.
But deep down,
sometimes really deep,
I (and I hope "we")
know that it isn't possible.
Made in the image of God means we hurt
and have emotions
and need both to love and to be loved.

There are truths in my life that could have scripted that song from Simon and Garfunkel.
And truths in my life that put me and Will from "About a Boy" on a very similar page.
And yet other truths that make "community" a word that my students get sick of hearing by the 2nd week of school.
And that get people wishing they hadn't asked why I loved Dordt so much.

And that, perhaps, is what draws my attention to how incredibly I wrestle with these concepts on a very regular basis.
It's a conflict between who I'm called to be, the things that have shaped who I am, and the admission that being a "rock" is not always something to be so proud of.

God reminds me of these things often.
I am convinced it's not simply a coincidence.

And it brings me to a few other thoughts from "About a Boy"...

"Suddenly I realized - two people isn't enough. You need backup. If you're only two people, and someone drops off the edge, then you're on your own. Two isn't a large enough number. You need three at least."

"Every [person] is an island. I stand by that. But clearly some [people] are island CHAINS. Underneath, they are connected..."

We've been created for community.
It looks different
on different days
and with different people.
But the truth is that it's who we've been created to be.
And as much as we may try
We can only avoid the reality of it for so long.

I might still be a rock.
Or mostly a rock.
But here's to being an archipelago.

God asks...

What do you do when God asks you a question?
Or maybe someone else asks you a question,
but deep down,
you know that God has allowed the question to be asked.

How much of you
answers the question?
How much of God
answers the question?
How much of you is aware
of how God is at work in your life?


If it's me,
I am forced to think a little.
Reflect a little
And get back into the heart of me.
It's not always an easy process.
It makes me aware of the masks that I put on
for others
but even for myself.
I have to ask what I really need.
And what I really want.
And if what I really want
Is what God really wants.

And it's enough to make a person nauseous.
Me, anyways.

And I have to be reminded
that God's hands are big enough to hold me.
And that His peace is very real
if I slow my mind down enough
to make room for Him to place it in my heart.

And a part of it has to come back to being simple.
Knowing what God wants isn't always an easy answer.
But what He needs
is a different story:
What He asks of me
is to give Him a willing heart
a humble heart
and to trust that He will walk along-side me
wherever and whenever
all those other little details
come together.