Daily 5 - Day 53

Today's Daily 5:

1. The beauty of heavy wet snowflakes falling (but not sticking around just yet) against the red shale paths, and yellow leaves of autumn as I walked in the park today
2. Going back to "my" park for the first time since coming upon the stabbing site a few weeks back, and meeting Jesus there again, feeling safe enough, unafraid enough to walk there
3. going to church tonight - a much needed time with the corporate body of Christ after this crazy day and week
4. affirming conversations with my mom and my roommate
5. watching episodes of Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice, and the West Wing as I drifted in and out of a much needed nap for a while this afternoon.
   

Come to Our Shut Down Places

I have loved, for a time now, the story of Hannah. There are so many secrets wonders in that story, the first chapters or so of 1 Samuel, that Jesus has whispered to me.

Just now, on a day that has been hard and full of tears as I faced some realities about myself again, after a week that began in this impossibly deep space, and carried through many incredibly challenging moments of life and prayer, I read another prayer by Walter Bruggemann. A prayer that the book says he wrote after reading 1 Samuel 1. And somehow, this prayer is touching raw spots in my soul, and soothing just a little.

Come to Our Shut Down Places

It does not come easy to us to imagine that you
closed the womb of mother Hannah
and thereby foreclosed the future for a time.
And yet, we can name in your presence
a myriad of shut down places around us...
those shut down in poverty and despair,
those shut down in fear and in rage,
those shut down by abuse and violence,
too hurt to speak,
too frightened to appear,
too scarred to dance.
And closer, our own shut downs:
in anxiety, in resentment, in pretense,
too weary to care,
too greedy to share,
too much of us for neighbor.
Those are not all your doing, we confess.
But you are the God who opens all shut downs:
by your power, you give futures,
by your goodness, you give hope,
by your mercy, you make new.
So we bid you this day come to our shut down places
and give birth anew.
We pray through the Easter opening of the Friday shut downs.
Amen

~~~

I thankful that Jesus is a God who comes to the shut-down places. Because today, I need that. And today, I'm praying for that for so many I love. For birth anew, in the shut down places. For resurrections promises in moments that feel like Friday burials of all hope and joy.

I was wrong...

I need to say this here.

I screwed up yesterday.

In the midst of my frenzied thoughts about the parking situation at work, I stopped listening for God's voice, and started listening to the voice of my fears.

I ignored the prompting to have a conversation with my boss and express my concerns, and listened instead to the voice that said I must have lost my mind, since I was clearly the only person who was at all disturbed by the situation.

I let the passive aggressive, defeatist behaviors that drive me crazy infect me, and I listened to the voice that said "why bother expressing your concerns - it's not like strong moral decisions are ever made around here anyway."

The truth is that it doesn't matter if nothing changes. And it doesn't matter that the tendency towards morality hasn't exactly been strong lately. None of those things are reasons for me to have not obeyed the inner prompting to speak up.

I was wrong.

I was wrong to show up here and gripe about the situation without any intent of addressing it in the manner I should have.

I was wrong to ask blog readers and others to affirm something Jesus had already told me was right, and for that I want to apologize.

I was wrong to let the lack of agreement with my position convince me that I really had lost my mind this time, and to ignore the reminders that sometimes (or often I suppose) the place Jesus invites us to is the less than popular one, the one that leads to persecution. (Not that I expected persecution, just indifference mostly.)

I spent part of the morning walking in my park, in the first snowfall of the season, confessing that to Jesus, and asking for his forgiveness. It's a lovely thing that he offers grace, that our sins are forgotten.

I'm tired now, and sad. Sad at my own failings, and sad that I was so easily shifted from what I knew to be right. Yes, I know I'm forgiven, and yes, I'll forgive myself, but at this moment I remain saddened by the reminder that this has been a pattern at times in my life.

So, I'm seeking to choose differently.

On Monday, I'll speak with my boss, and perhaps take one other step that I'm still considering and praying about.

I've removed a couple of links from other places to the two posts from yesterday, a few incredibly passive aggressive methods of catching the attention of certain people. I may yet remove the posts themselves, though I'm still praying through and considering that option.

And I'm determined that this will not steal a desperately needed weekend of rest and peace. That I will not spend the next two days obsessing about a conversation on Monday that will undoubtedly be challenging for me to follow through with. That I will not spend this entire weekend cursing my failings. That I will somehow quiet the voices that in this moment are strong, and reminding me of each and every failure, and some that perhaps weren't failures. That I will ask Jesus to show me how he sees those moments, and that mostly, I will ask Jesus to draw near and hold me, like a papa cradling a cherished daughter.

Because I've forgotten about that this week, and that too was something I confessed this morning. I became caught in the pull of a number of different deep places, in the wake of moments of prayer and intercession and various journeys. And I failed to balance my own need to seek Jesus first with the demands of those other things on my time and energy. And I have paid dearly for that again this week as well.

So, I'll find ways to rest. To restore my flagging spirits, my spent energy, and I'll spend time with Jesus. Because that's really all I know to do in this space.