I think I have a new favorite book. It is "The Shack" by William P. Young and I read it in about six hours. I was completely fascinated by it. While the book is fiction, I marked page after page of profound ideas about God and relationship with him.
The premise is that a man who is hurting and in a deep depression gets a letter from God inviting him to a meeting at the source of his pain, a physical location. The God who meets him there surpasses and changes all of the man's preconceived, small ideas about religion and relationship.
I could quote you pages and pages from this book but I would rather you read it and tell me what you think. Or, come to book club next week and talk about it with us!
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
The Vulnerability of Innocence
I was driving the children home from small group one night when I overheard the following conversation between my daughters.
4 year old: Knock, knock
6 year old: Who’s there?
4 year old: Hannah Montana
6 year old: Hannah Montana, who?
4 year old: Bough, bough! (yelled at the top of her lungs to imitate an electric guitar)
Giggle! Giggle!
Did that make sense?
6 year old: No
4 year old: Well, laugh anyway! Ha! Ha! Ha!
6 year old: Okay! Ha! Ha! Ha!
As I tried to keep a straight face and stop myself from wondering when knock, knock jokes will lose their appeal, I marveled at the transparency that children show. At first I thought, “Wow! She is so secure in herself that she would ask if that made sense. She worships her older sister and never wants to show weakness. Good for her!”
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that she didn’t know that was weakness. Innocence protected her from recognizing that her question would show insecurity. She really just wanted to know if that was a good joke! (Maybe your children are smarter than mine, but they just don’t get what makes a good knock, knock joke yet.)
I long to be that innocent again. I want to ignore my filter when I need honest feedback. Do you know what I mean? That voice that tells you to stop and figure it out later or just stuff it altogether. I want to allow myself to be vulnerable enough to let people see the good, the bad, and the ugly about me! I want to find commonalities in insecurities and seek other’s wisdom in overcoming them.
There are times when I really wish that my children had filters in place. You know, when my six year old tells me that I have a fat tummy. Or when my four year old tells me that the boo-boo (zit) on my nose is really big. But, they are honestly reporting the world from their point of view.
Where is the healthy boundary between filtering what we say to be polite and losing track of honesty altogether? Where is the healthy boundary of being vulnerable without vomiting your stuff all over people? What do you think?
4 year old: Knock, knock
6 year old: Who’s there?
4 year old: Hannah Montana
6 year old: Hannah Montana, who?
4 year old: Bough, bough! (yelled at the top of her lungs to imitate an electric guitar)
Giggle! Giggle!
Did that make sense?
6 year old: No
4 year old: Well, laugh anyway! Ha! Ha! Ha!
6 year old: Okay! Ha! Ha! Ha!
As I tried to keep a straight face and stop myself from wondering when knock, knock jokes will lose their appeal, I marveled at the transparency that children show. At first I thought, “Wow! She is so secure in herself that she would ask if that made sense. She worships her older sister and never wants to show weakness. Good for her!”
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that she didn’t know that was weakness. Innocence protected her from recognizing that her question would show insecurity. She really just wanted to know if that was a good joke! (Maybe your children are smarter than mine, but they just don’t get what makes a good knock, knock joke yet.)
I long to be that innocent again. I want to ignore my filter when I need honest feedback. Do you know what I mean? That voice that tells you to stop and figure it out later or just stuff it altogether. I want to allow myself to be vulnerable enough to let people see the good, the bad, and the ugly about me! I want to find commonalities in insecurities and seek other’s wisdom in overcoming them.
There are times when I really wish that my children had filters in place. You know, when my six year old tells me that I have a fat tummy. Or when my four year old tells me that the boo-boo (zit) on my nose is really big. But, they are honestly reporting the world from their point of view.
Where is the healthy boundary between filtering what we say to be polite and losing track of honesty altogether? Where is the healthy boundary of being vulnerable without vomiting your stuff all over people? What do you think?
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Rain
I actually wrote this last summer but with the weather in North Texas this week, it seemed appropriate...
After a year of intense drought with record breaking high temperatures, a rainy summer day should have been welcome. After all, it was cool for July and the grass was still green everywhere. However, when I had to tell my kids one more time that we couldn’t swim because it was raining, again, I realized that I was tired of rain.
It was just such a rainy day when I was attempting to load all three of my children into their car seats after day camp when the bottom dropped out of the sky. I got soaked as I fastened little seatbelts.
My mood could have been described as ‘less than cheery’ when I climbed into the driver’s seat. I started the car to the usual chorus of requests for favorite children’s CDs. I refused in my grumpiness and insisted on listening to the radio station of my choice. The rain pounded us and the streets were rivers of rushing water. Flash flooding had been a real danger all summer and I grew anxious about our drive home. I turned the radio up to help me calm down. The DJ said something about a tranquil song and I looked forward to his voice ceasing to speak and the tranquility beginning. Did I mention that I was grumpy?
“Word of God, Speak” began to play. The music itself is very soothing and I was swept away with it, feeling some of my anxiety slip away. Lost in the swelling sounds, my middle child’s voice interrupted my concentration.
“Mommy! He said rain. It’s raining here, too.”
He said rain? I missed it. I acknowledged her, with no conviction, but determined to pay attention to the words. Here is what I heard,
“Word of God speak.
Won’t you pour down like rain?
Washing my eyes to see your majesty.
To be still and know that you’re in this place.
Please let me stay and rest in your holiness.”
Could the word of God truly pour down like rain? Like sheets of rain that fall from the sky so fast that rivers and streams form in streets? Could God’s presence so overwhelm a place? Could the words of God soak me?
I was overwhelmed. I’ve been in church all my life and taught to answer that certainly God could do such a thing. But my experience denies it. I have never felt washed over in the words of God like that rain was falling. I have never swum through God’s revelation. In fact, I feel pretty dry most of the time.
“Why?” I wondered to myself, “Are the writers of these words just making a pretty song? Has God failed? Or do I just expect so little of Him?”
Most of the time, I expect God to be more like humidity. You just endure it because you have to. Humidity becomes oppressive and stifling. It leaves you feeling sticky and as if you need a shower. Moisture seeps through clothing and even skin, leaving your entire being feeling wet. God can just be absorbed and then cleaned off.
Just a few short days later it had been raining again and I had the rare opportunity to spend time with just one of my kids. My middle one and I went to the library determined to stock up on enough good books and movies to keep us entertained on a rainy day. As I unloaded her from the car, she asked if we could splash in the puddles. Why not? We were both wearing flip flops and our feet would dry quickly. We splashed all the way to the doors. By the time we arrived at the entrance of the library we were soaked up to our knees and laughing out loud!
We carefully chose our books and movies and placed them in a plastic sack. As we walked to the doors, I realized that it was pouring. Great. We were going to get soaked because I had not brought in an umbrella.
“Mommy! Let’s dance in the rain!” my daughter yelled excitedly, in the library entrance.
Really? I confess that I didn’t want to but we were having such a good time together that day that I agreed. I got another plastic sack to cover the top of our book sack and out we went. We twirled and splashed. We jumped and laughed. We sang rain songs. We even ended up barefoot for awhile.
My daughter never once worried that her makeup would run (she doesn’t wear any) or that her hair would look funny wet. It never crossed her mind to be concerned that her clothes would get dirty or that she would be cold on the car ride home. She just danced. And sang. And played.
As I reflect on these moments, I realize that I shy away from God’s pouring presence because I am afraid of what the consequences will be. I don’t want to have my makeup run in front of others. I don’t want muddy feet to track up the floor. I don’t want to be uncomfortably wet and cold.
I don’t trust the pouring out of God’s word. I keep it away from me. I stand inside and watch it rain. I feel the humidity but I won’t jump in the water. I stop the pouring out by protecting myself from it. Any mist I feel sends me running indoors; I protect myself in the busyness of my life from feeling that rain.
What would happen if I had the courage to step out and splash in the outpouring of God’s word? Scripture promises us that all of creation sings of his presence. His word is pouring down. Will we stay indoors or will we dance in response?
Word of God, speak.
Won’t you pour down like rain?
Washing my eyes to see your majesty
To be still and know, that you’re in this place.
Please let me stay and rest in your holiness.
Word of God, speak.
By Mercy Me
After a year of intense drought with record breaking high temperatures, a rainy summer day should have been welcome. After all, it was cool for July and the grass was still green everywhere. However, when I had to tell my kids one more time that we couldn’t swim because it was raining, again, I realized that I was tired of rain.
It was just such a rainy day when I was attempting to load all three of my children into their car seats after day camp when the bottom dropped out of the sky. I got soaked as I fastened little seatbelts.
My mood could have been described as ‘less than cheery’ when I climbed into the driver’s seat. I started the car to the usual chorus of requests for favorite children’s CDs. I refused in my grumpiness and insisted on listening to the radio station of my choice. The rain pounded us and the streets were rivers of rushing water. Flash flooding had been a real danger all summer and I grew anxious about our drive home. I turned the radio up to help me calm down. The DJ said something about a tranquil song and I looked forward to his voice ceasing to speak and the tranquility beginning. Did I mention that I was grumpy?
“Word of God, Speak” began to play. The music itself is very soothing and I was swept away with it, feeling some of my anxiety slip away. Lost in the swelling sounds, my middle child’s voice interrupted my concentration.
“Mommy! He said rain. It’s raining here, too.”
He said rain? I missed it. I acknowledged her, with no conviction, but determined to pay attention to the words. Here is what I heard,
“Word of God speak.
Won’t you pour down like rain?
Washing my eyes to see your majesty.
To be still and know that you’re in this place.
Please let me stay and rest in your holiness.”
Could the word of God truly pour down like rain? Like sheets of rain that fall from the sky so fast that rivers and streams form in streets? Could God’s presence so overwhelm a place? Could the words of God soak me?
I was overwhelmed. I’ve been in church all my life and taught to answer that certainly God could do such a thing. But my experience denies it. I have never felt washed over in the words of God like that rain was falling. I have never swum through God’s revelation. In fact, I feel pretty dry most of the time.
“Why?” I wondered to myself, “Are the writers of these words just making a pretty song? Has God failed? Or do I just expect so little of Him?”
Most of the time, I expect God to be more like humidity. You just endure it because you have to. Humidity becomes oppressive and stifling. It leaves you feeling sticky and as if you need a shower. Moisture seeps through clothing and even skin, leaving your entire being feeling wet. God can just be absorbed and then cleaned off.
Just a few short days later it had been raining again and I had the rare opportunity to spend time with just one of my kids. My middle one and I went to the library determined to stock up on enough good books and movies to keep us entertained on a rainy day. As I unloaded her from the car, she asked if we could splash in the puddles. Why not? We were both wearing flip flops and our feet would dry quickly. We splashed all the way to the doors. By the time we arrived at the entrance of the library we were soaked up to our knees and laughing out loud!
We carefully chose our books and movies and placed them in a plastic sack. As we walked to the doors, I realized that it was pouring. Great. We were going to get soaked because I had not brought in an umbrella.
“Mommy! Let’s dance in the rain!” my daughter yelled excitedly, in the library entrance.
Really? I confess that I didn’t want to but we were having such a good time together that day that I agreed. I got another plastic sack to cover the top of our book sack and out we went. We twirled and splashed. We jumped and laughed. We sang rain songs. We even ended up barefoot for awhile.
My daughter never once worried that her makeup would run (she doesn’t wear any) or that her hair would look funny wet. It never crossed her mind to be concerned that her clothes would get dirty or that she would be cold on the car ride home. She just danced. And sang. And played.
As I reflect on these moments, I realize that I shy away from God’s pouring presence because I am afraid of what the consequences will be. I don’t want to have my makeup run in front of others. I don’t want muddy feet to track up the floor. I don’t want to be uncomfortably wet and cold.
I don’t trust the pouring out of God’s word. I keep it away from me. I stand inside and watch it rain. I feel the humidity but I won’t jump in the water. I stop the pouring out by protecting myself from it. Any mist I feel sends me running indoors; I protect myself in the busyness of my life from feeling that rain.
What would happen if I had the courage to step out and splash in the outpouring of God’s word? Scripture promises us that all of creation sings of his presence. His word is pouring down. Will we stay indoors or will we dance in response?
Word of God, speak.
Won’t you pour down like rain?
Washing my eyes to see your majesty
To be still and know, that you’re in this place.
Please let me stay and rest in your holiness.
Word of God, speak.
By Mercy Me
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