You Ask, I Answer, Take 4

That's right folks, it's time for another installment of You Ask, I Answer.  Today's question comes from Johanna again.  She asks:

Do you think it is important to be baptized in the Holy Spirit after you have given your life to Christ?

I'll be honest with you, and say that my answer is "I don't know."

My faith journey looks something like this:

• Raised in a fairly conservative evangelical culture, as a pastor's kid
• experienced a lot of good and a lot of bad that comes with Christianity as a result of being a pastor's kid
• introduced early to attack Christianity, at the age of 10, when the church dad was pastoring went through a brutal split, and he resigned and planted the church that he still pastors today
• struggled a lot with the feelings of pressure that came with being a pastor's kid
• transitioned into public school for jr. high after being homeschooled, and spent some pretty brutal years dealing with vicious girls in the youth group
• attended a Catholic high school, not sure at this point if I even believe in God, but compelled to defend my protestant beliefs in a myriad of intellectual lunchtime discussions, while really wanting nothing more than to escape faith and it's burdens
• got involved with Young Life in 12th grade - met a great friend in the woman who was my leader and felt seen and cared for for who I was and my own walk with God and not who my dad was and his role in the church for the first time in my life;  still totally wrestling with faith
• just before my 18th birthday, I was baptized.  It wasn't so much that I had answers, as it was that in my own logical evaluation, it would be more of a problem to drop everything I'd believed for 18 years, than it would be to simply subscribe to it.
• in the first years of University I got involved with a small church that was growing, mostly composed of students and twenty somethings and was exploring "Holy Spirit"
• I met people there who had something I'd never seen before.  These people really "knew" Jesus.
• I was struggling with severe depression, and also longing for this relationship that my new friends had with Jesus.  The combination led to some pretty rough years.
• While studying in university, I began to be fascinated by liturgical traditions of the church, studying them as part of my specialization in European church history, particularly in the Reformation and post-reformation periods.
• In my last year of university, sitting in a car, I encountered the Holy Spirit in a powerful, supernatural way, and my depression was healed.
• My life entered new kinds of turmoil and upheaval as my journey with God took some more crazy twists and turns, including a variety of experiences with prayer, dreams and visions, and other interesting encounters with the spiritual realm and it has stayed that way ever since that moment of healing almost six years ago.

So, these days I guess you could categorize me as a liturgy loving, evangelical, charismatic with a soft spot for the mystical and anything to do with prayer.

What, you ask, does that have to do with the baptism of the Holy Spirit?

Well, it's like this - my experiences and personal journey and experiences have shaped my beliefs.  I don't believe that there is something special - some unique baptism of the Spirit, per say.  I believe that the Spirit is present with all of us.  That said, if what you mean by baptism of the Holy Spirit is a particular moment or encounter when the Spirit goes from being the more traditionally evangelical silent member of the trinity, at most recognized as our conscience, to being a living and active part of our relationship and interaction with God, then yes, I do pray that all those who know Jesus will also experience this baptism of the Spirit that He sent to us as counselor, guide and comforter.  However, I don't believe that this looks the same for everyone, or that it happens at a specific time or moment.  For me, it happened the day I was healed, and it was about being in a place where I was desperate enough to surrender.  For friends of mine, it's looked totally different.  But I do pray that everyone will somehow experience, in the way unique to their own hearts and relationships with the Lord, an active relationship with the Spirit.

Thoughts?  I'm not interested in a big theological debate, but I'd love to hear your thoughts (keep them civil please), or to know if this has stirred more questions for you.  Like I keep saying, this feature will be around for as long as the questions come in, and I'm willing to talk about just about any topic you want to bring up here.

23 Years

When I was a kid, every year we'd celebrate what our parents called our "special birthday".

Today is mine.

23 years ago today, I knelt with my mom, on brown shag carpet, next to a scratchy couch with late 1970s woven fabric, and invited Jesus to take over.

It's been a long journey since then.  A lot of stops and starts.  A lot of questions and wrestles.  Times where I've begged God to leave, and times where I've wondered if He would ever be close again.

And yet, after all that, all the stops and starts and recommitments, despite the fact that at four years old that day, I couldn't have understood the implications of following Christ, every year on April 20th, I stop and remember.  Because this whole crazy journey started then.  23 years ago today.  And beginnings are worth remembering.

The Only Problem I Have With These Mysteries

Yesterday I came across a song by Caedmon's Call that has long been a favorite, and feels appropriate for the journey I find myself walking out in the present season.

Sometimes I believe all the lies
So I can do the things I should despise
And every day I am swayed
By whatever is on my mind

I hear it all depends on my faith
So I'm feeling precarious
The only problem I have with these mysteries
Is they're so mysterious

And like a consumer I've been thinking
If I could just get a bit more
More than my 15 minutes of faith,
Then I'd be secure

My faith is like shifting sand
Changed by every wave
My faith is like shifting sand
So I stand on grace

I've begged you for some proof
For my Thomas eyes to see
A slithering staff, a leperous hand
And lions resting lazily

A glimpse of your back-side glory
And this soaked altar going ablaze
But you know I've seen so much
I explained it away

Waters rose as my doubts reigned
My sand-castle faith, it slipped away
Found myself standing on your grace
It'd been there all the time

Stand on grace

The only problem I have with these mysteries is they're so mysterious.  And I have explained so much away.  I heard this song and played it several times over, realizing anew what I've known and seen, and reminding myself again of grace, and the need to trust, even in the moments when it really does seem as if the very ground I'm standing upon is soft, and shifting.

Train Thoughts

I kind of feel like whining this morning.  Complaining about the fact that my neck and shoulders and back ache, that I woke up with a headache, AGAIN, and that sleep has been, umm, disturbed for the last several nights.  (The night before last I dreamt there were daddy-long-legs spiders crawling all over me.  Really pleasant as dreams go.  Really.)

Instead of whining, (or at least whining extensively!) let me tell you about something that happened on the train this morning. 

When you take the bus and train at exactly the same time every day, you begin to recognize people.  There is the scowling lady on the bus, and the lady who limps whose face seems shaped into a permanent sneer, accentuated by bright red lipstick, the young guy in the baseball cap who looks like he's mean, but always gives up his seat for the sneering, limping lady.

There is a guy I've noticed on the train several mornings too, often sitting in the empty bench seat across from him.  He seems to be of middle eastern descent, and mostly he stood out for his odd behaviours, seeming to be mentally ill, sometimes rocking forward and back with his eyes closed, covering his face with his hands, his lips forming words without sounds.

I sat across from him this morning, too.

Only today it was different.  Today for some reason, it became clear. 

What looked like mental illness was prayer.  He is very likely Muslim, and the change came over him as we turned the corner out of downtown.  As soon as the train began to travel East, the rocking and moving lips began.  A ritual that I've seen repeated several days now.  We take the train just as the sun is beginning to rise, and it made sense in some tiny moment this morning that he would say his morning prayers, facing east, as he travelled to whatever his destination is.

It made a difference, somehow, to see prayers instead of mental illness.  Mental illness is not really frightening to me, but leaves me watchful.  I've had some eventful encounters on the train with mentally ill people, and I watch carefully if that seems to be what I'm encountering, carefully judging if my safety is at risk.

This morning it was different.  I sat quietly as I always do, but today I wanted to honor his prayers and devotion.  And as he prayed, I prayed for him, quietly, too.  That the man Jesus, who people of his faith know as a prophet would come to him, and reveal himself as Saviour.

It was an odd deep space, to sit there and pray for this person with whom I've never exchanged conversation, and likely never will, given that his prayer time comes in the brief moments we travel together some mornings.

An experience that I'll ponder and hold within myself as the day goes on.  Praying blessings over this man who expresses devotion publicly, praying silently but physically on the train each morning.

Pondering 12:12

I'm rather crabbily considering Romans 12:12 today "Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer."

The verse started running through my head late last night as I was turning out the lights to sleep.  I made a mental note of it, sensing it's importance, and fell asleep.

A few friends have shared stories with me of powerful encounters they've had with Jesus in the last few days. "The Weight of Glory" kind of moments, and I was mentally wrestling through the balance of being overjoyed for my friends and their moments of encounter and healing, and jealous, because I'm tired and longing, and life has felt dry in some ways the last little while.  Not bad, but dry - that longing for something more and deeper that comes at times.  That longing to more tangibly encounter Jesus.

I woke again this morning with the verse still underlaying my thoughts, playing on repeat through my conciousness, forcing me to pay attention.  Making me wonder if the time and consideration I've given to a "theme" for the year is playing out.

Joyful in hope.  I can do that.  Two of my favorite words of all-time appear in that statement.  The quest for joy has been a definining one this past year.  And hope, well, it's such a "hopeful" word!  It's life-giving to know that there is still hope.  Through the many years I struggled with depression I knew deeply what it was to be hopeless.  Each day that I wake up without that overwhelming darkness is truly a gift for me, even years after being healed.  Joyful in hope.  Sure.

Patient in affliction.  This one makes me cringe.  I mean, I can do it, but I've been through two really rough, nearly hellish years in a row, and I'd rather not have any more affliction.  And, to be really honest, if I've learned anything, it's that it sure seems that God loves to answer prayers like this.  I picture his mental dialogue going something like "She wants to be patient in affliction.  Not many people ask for that!  Only one way to develop it too..."

Faithful in prayer.  If there is a statement in scripture that I would like to have as a defining one for me life, it is this - that I am faithful in prayer.  A year ago I made a "be relentless" list of five things I was going to talk to God about because of the growing conviction that I was willing to trust him and come to him with the needs of others, but rarely addressed my own needs with him.  I had a varying degree of success with remembering to talk with Jesus about those things over the course of the year, and I was thinking again yesterday about the need to be faithful in coming to Jesus with my own needs.    Somehow, as I've been pondering "faithful in prayer" this morning, I think there is a balance in that - the ongoing knowledge that I am often called to pray for others, but also the willingness to really trust God with my own heart and needs as well. 

I cringe a little, too, at how closely "faithful in prayer" seems to be tied to "patient in affliction".  I'll admit that these brutally hard years have done much for my prayer life, but like I said, I'd rather that they not be the story of the rest of my life.  I'd kind of like a new year filled with joy and miracles and newness.

Joyful in hope.  Patient in affliction.  Faithful in prayer.

Seems there is much that these words are speaking to my heart right now.  It will be interesting, I think, to see where this all goes.

Quoting Again...

From the calendar on my desk, which apparently has picked the month of June to deeply strike and convict my heart...

"Faith is a gift of God. It is a pure gift, and only he can bestow it. At the same time, he passionately desires to give it to us. He wants us to ask for it, because he can only give it to us when we ask for it." (Catherine de Hueck Doherty)

A Blog Link

I liked this post by Tony Campolo's son, Bart, on the Sojourner's Blog today. I relate to the things he says, just a little.

Keeping the Faith

The Deep End?

Kirk talks about the crazy God experiences as diving in the deep end of the pool. This has been that kind of week.

I've been reading and hearing from all kinds of sources this week:

• a Dutch, Catholic, gay but celibate priest writing on prayer
• an Episcopal, female priest talking about the life of faith, and her calling to ministry
• a slightly sacchrine, but genuine Christian novelist
• a British founder of a prayer movement
• friends from all over the country and world
• Music from favorite bands
• A Canadian songwriter, poet, and novelist

All of these things circling and clinging. Floating through my brain.

Lots of imagery having to with light.

I've been praying each time I drink a cup of Starbucks - started as a bit of a joke, but has become something else. I prayed my way through a cup of tazo passion tea at work this morning, and that somehow led to a deep and intense conversation with one of my youth girls at another Starbucks this evening - pray for you if you think of it - she's facing some hard things right now.

I've discovered yet again that my story of depression and healing is perhaps one of the most powerful things God has ever used from my life or asked me to speak.

I was reading a document on the bus this afternoon and praying and three friends came to mind very strongly. I felt I needed to invite them to be part of that which the document was inviting me to be part of. I passed it along by email and left phone messages with one. I talked to the other for an hour on the phone tonight. She's putting out a Gideon fleece of sorts in response.

This has been a crazy, deep end sort of week. Beautiful, confusing, and worth every minute.

Fascinating Article

I've only read the first bit of this article - I've printed it for closer reading at home tonight. It discusses letters written by Mother Teresa that have recently been released and detail her long struggles around faith and doubt. I find it encouraging to know that such a paragon of faith - a woman who gave so much of herself in service to Christ struggled intimately with doubts.

You can check the article out here.

From My Journal...

I was reading some journal entries from the last couple months as I was curled up in bed late last night. I came across a passage that struck me as continuing to express great truths about where I find myself on this journey right now. So, without further ado, here's a peek into the private pages of my "paper journal"...

I remain continually overwhelmed by the complex and beautiful simplicity of the bargain Jesus offers - my messed up life for something so much fulfilling. My brokenness for His healing. This beautiful knowingness of being loved, accepted, gathered into the arms of someone who will not let anything separate me from Him.

I never believed it was possible to actually experience the love of Christ. To move from a theoretical head knowledge to a deep heart knowledge, and yet, I meet that love on a daily basis, and it convinces me that I have value - a beauty that is my own to offer to the world, and that, in itself, is a miracle.

Off-Kilter

This has been a very disgruntled, off-kilter, uncertain couple of weeks, and this morning I’m feeling the effects of that.

I drank a cup of tea (passion tea from Starbucks – one of my favorites) and that seems to be helping.

My head feels stuffy – full of cotton batting. My brain is functioning very slowly, and I feel like I'm existing from one sugar rush to the next.

I am fighting off numerous little physical ailments – mostly stress related.

Overnight the poplar trees birthed cotton into the air, and my normal spring and summer allergies have stepped into high gear.

I’m moving in just over a week, and haven’t started packing. Time to get on that I guess. (Though the very idea of that is stressful at this moment.)

My parents come home tomorrow. One of the great ironies of my life is that I find it very difficult to live in my parents home, and yet, I can’t wait for them to be home this time. Partly because of the number of stressful life events that have gone on in the three weeks they’ve been overseas.

Because my parents come home tomorrow, my evening will be spent cleaning our house. It’s not terrible, but lots of little things. We’ve had company using their bed while they’ve been away, so I have to wash their sheets. I need to wash the towels in the bathroom, clean our fridge, put the clean dishes away, wipe the counters, clean the bathroom, and water the flower beds. I also need to clean my own space in preparation for packing and moving.

I’ve been hiding out in novels these last couple weeks. I think I’m on my fourth Harry Potter novel since a week ago today. Plus some other light reading and lots of mindless television in between.

I’m missing certain friends who are far away right now, and at the same time am kind of glad I don’t have to see them, as they tend to draw the honest things out of me, and the honest things in my life right now are pretty painful and ugly and fear-laced. They’re the reason I’ve been watching way more mindless television than normal and reading novels like they’re going out of style.

I’m having mood swings of immense proportions. From great excitement and jubilee to the pits of fear and exhaustion.

I’ve asked myself the “am I depressed” question with a lot more regularity these last two weeks.

I’ve worked to remind myself of the things that are beautiful, happy and good. It’s been hard to cling to them.

I’m hanging on to a promise that God gave to Abram in a vision – a promise that a friend prayed over me early this year, and that Jesus has confirmed over and over these last months. From this promise comes my tattoo idea (which is still being drawn.)

Genesis 15:1 – God’s Covenant with Abram
After this, the word of the Lord came to Abram in a vision: “Do not be afraid, Abram. I am your shield, your very great reward.”

An Ongoing Relationship With Fear

I have an ongoing relationship with fear and panic. Most of the time over the last couple of years, I've managed to make it a distant relationship. These past couple of weeks, it's been a very intimate relationship.

I have been battling fears on a massive scale this past week, mostly alone. Some spiritual attack, some just an expression of my overthinking, worrying sort of personality, but strong and overwhelming in either case.

After the initial overwhelming onslaught, it has come in waves. There are moments when I wake up in the morning and think, "wow, I'm feeling really at peace again." and then something will trigger a thought that leads to a fear, that leads to panic symptoms, and suddenly I'm again fighting for the sanctity of my mind and the sanity of my soul. Things I haven't thought about in ages have sprung up - fears of loved ones dieing, fears surrounding things that I am actually greatly looking forward to and anticipating with great joy (most days!).

And they're making me tired, and a bit anti-social (which, by the way, is a terrible way to be when you're already introverted and in need of lots of alone time to process, and while you're hosting a house guest).

Sometimes I wonder if the close relationship with Jesus is worth the energy it has seemed to require to fight the battles necessary to retain that closeness this last while. I have clung to the promise of God as shield and protector, the promise that I am never alone, and yet have felt so desperately alone in the human realm, separated by physical distance from those who share my heart and uphold me with hugs and prayers. I find myself once again crying out for community - for spiritual parents and friends from whom I can seek advice and support, and with whom I can learn to walk out this journey.

The Mostly Dark

I’m sitting here in the mostly dark, and the light from my laptop screen is reflecting off my glasses, catching on every speck of dust or smudge, and highlighting the fact that they need to be wiped clean. My chair is just below my window, and it’s open, letting in the cool late evening air, and the ambient noise from nearby streets. I’m at peace.

My life feels like that right now too… mostly dark, but at peace. No real illumination. Lots of places where I am paused, waiting for what comes next. Where I have taken every step that has thus far presented itself, and now I wait, in the mostly dark – just enough light to know that things beautiful and freeing are coming, but not enough light to yet claim them.

Maybe the mostly dark is what it’s all about anyway… just enough light to move from one step to the next. I’m thinking of a Bruce Cockburn lyric “…another step deeper into darkness/closer to the light…”

I’m thinking too about all the various scripture passages…

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path…”

“You will hear a voice behind you saying, ‘This is the way. Walk in it.”

“The Lord turns my darkness into light…”

“before I go…to the land of deepest night, of deep shadow and disorder, where even the light is like darkness…”

“He reveals the deep things of darkness and brings deep shadows into the light.”

“When I looked for light, then came darkness.”

“He redeemed my soul from going down to the pit and I will live to enjoy the light.”

“You, O Lord, keep my lamp burning. My god turns my darkness into light.”

“The people walking in darkness have seen a great light…”

Cockburn again:

Gone from mystery into mystery
Gone from daylight into night
Another step deeper into darkness
Closer to the light

Read this...

My friend Kirk has written a beautiful post about prayer, and waiting for a miracle, about healing, and faith. You can find it here, and you should take the time to read it.