little victories and stones of remembrance

I spent most of the weekend thrilled with myself for making that phone call on Friday morning. I was delighted with the encouragement, and pride in me expressed by the friends who had so faithfully held me accountable to make that step. Bascially, I spent the whole weekend concentrating on that moment of victory - one of the few in the last several months.

Somehow, I convinced myself that my battle with fear was over - that it would all be uphill from here. Until, that is, I got a return phone call. I missed the call, picked up the voicemail, and that all too familiar, pit of my stomach reaction returned. Right, I haven't defeated fear, I have simply taken back some ground in my life.

I have to laugh - I put off returning the phone call - for several hours this time, instead of several months, but the fear was there just the same. I am still afraid of these things in my life. I am still afraid of making the tiny steps towards healing.

I returned the phone call - it was a tiny bit easier this time. I left another message. Eventually, I'll talk to the person I'm trying to reach. But, in the meantime, I needed that reminder that while my breakthrough experience of last week was just that, there are still many battles to be fought. There is still much healing to be done.

With that said, I'm going to switch topics somewhat...
I have become a believer in erecting stones of remembrance at the places in my life where God meets me, where victory, however small, occurs. Maybe I do it simply for the reminder - those places of meeting God and experiencing victory have been few and far between the last couple of years, and I cling to them - to their reminders - in the moments when it seems God has become more distant.

Sometimes my stones of rembrance are merely mental markers, but oftentimes I try to tie something physical to that remembrance too - something I can hold, or read, or listen to, or look at in the moments that I need that reminder of God's intervention in my life. So, on Saturday morning, I went shopping with a friend to purchase a "stone of remembrance".

This time I settled on two CDs. Both are by David Crowder, and both are fantastic. There are two songs, in particular, on the Illuminate album that symbolize this moment to me - that symbolize the moment of victory - the step of obedience that I am seeking to burn into my memory.

Only You

Take my heart, I lay it down

At the feet of You who's crowned

Take my life, I'm letting go

I lift it up to You who's throned

And I will worship You, Lord

Only You, Lord

And I will bow down before You

Only You, Lord

Take my fret, take my fear

All I have I'm leaving here

Be all my hopes, be all my dreams

Be all my delights, be my everything

Deliver Me

Deliver me out of the sadness

Deliver me from all of the madness

Deliver me courage to guide me

Deliver me Your strength inside me

All of my lfie

I've been in hiding

Wishing there was someone just like You

Now that You're here

Now that I've found You

I know that You're the one to pull me through

Deliver me loving and caring

Deliver me giving and sharing

Deliver me this cross that I'm bearing

Oh, deliver me

Jesus, Jesus how I trust You

How I've proved You o'er and o'er

Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus

Deliver me

Come and pull me through

Come pull me through

Stream of Consciousness

Note: I've been reading too many spiritual autobiographies lately, and too many of a friend's stream of consciousness blog entries. I rarely write in that style, preferring a more structured form, but on Thursday night, September 22, 2005, I lay in my bed, picked up my journal, and this is what came, from my own consciousness, and from God... (I wrote the majority of this Thursday night, with the exception of the postscript, which I added today.)


About two weeks ago at house church, not the one we just had two days ago, but the previous one, I was talking with a friend, and asked him a question. It strikes me as funny, now, that I can't remember the question - I think it might have been about some dreams I'd been having, and a random theory I developed that my bedroom was causing my nightmares because a girlfriend had spent two nights on my floor, and had weird dreams both nights too.

Anyway, the question doesn't really matter, it was his response that stuck with me. He paused, and then prayed, asking God what he could say - odd, yes, but I expect odd from this friend - that's why I take him all my odd questions! He paused, looked at me, and said, "He wants to be Lord in your life." Such simple words, communicated gently, caringly. "I don't think He's Lord right now, is He?"

What do you say in response? I think I stumbled through a "probably not" type of answer - feeling truth that was only beginning to surface.

We had talked that night as a smaller group of our house church about some passages in Philippians, and I admitted to that small group that I've been choosing disobedience by ignoring a directive from God for the last several months. I remember thinking afterwards, when my friend asked me if "he was Lord" that it was a stupid question - I'd just finished telling them that I was choosing disobedience. How could He be Lord in my disobedience?

Accountability is a beautiful but painful thing. The members of that little cluster - the four of them - all on my case about this for the past two weeks.

All those words, percolating through my head. Thinking and having conversations about why this is such a difficult step of obediece - to call a counsellor and get some help. Working through stuff, trying to answer the question of why this step is so terrifyingly difficult fro me.

Two weeks of this, and I climbed on the bus tonight to head home after my evening class. I finished the only novel in my bad this morning. I couldn't bring myself to crack open a textbook and do assigned reading after being at school for nearly twelve hours today. Tetris on my cell phone only held my interest for five minutes (unusual since I love that stupid little game). I had a seat to myself - that doesn't usually happen. I opened my bag, rummaging for something to fill the 45 minute journey home. The Bible caught my eye - the little one I leave in my school bag, the one with the leather binding that protects the pages from being mashed during my daily commute.

Inspiration. I'll read... Philippians. Ignore the guilt that this is the first time I've opened Scripture in weeks. Just start reading. There should be enough time to read Philippians start to finish. It'll be good for me.

Reading. Reading. Stop. "being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (1:6) A good work? It hasn't felt like a "good" work for a very long time. I needed that reminder - that it's good. "...Carry it on to completion" - this will, one day be finished. I'm not neglected or forgotten. Thanks, God.

Okay, keep reading. Reading. Reading. Reading. Stop. "...continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose." (2:12b-13) It is God who works in me. Hmmm. I am not self-sufficient. But I've worked really hard to be self-sufficient. You can't expect God to intervene when you won't admit your need. But I admit my need - haven't you heard me pray? You say you need, but you don't let go. Oh, good point. Why is that?

Well, those father wounds you've been feeling lately - the ones you've been talking to me about? The ones you've been trying to ignore? This is one of them. Your dad always said think for yourself, learn to do it yourself - remember the lawn mowing incident, and the checking and adding oil to the car, and hanging pictures - the list goes on. You're trying so hard to be independent and self-sufficient that you forgot to rely on ME - the heavenly Father, the one you need to please. This is why it's so hard for you to make that phone call - You can't admit the failure - that you need help to pull your life together.

Jesus, thank you for revelations like these. Protect them in my heart. I'm sorry for leaving you out. I need You. I need Your help and Your healing. I'm going to obey You. I'm going to make that phone call. Soon. I love these moments. I hope for more of them to come. Your daughter, on her way home, Lisa.


p.s. I woke up on Friday morning (after sleeping solidly through the night for the first time in weeks) and tried to busy myself with other pursuits - reading, emails, but nothing worked. Everything I did felt like prolonging the inevitable. I had peace, and I had courage and strength that were not of me. I made the phone call!

"Quadruplets and Accomplices"

I will never be a "good" Christian commentator on the "big issues" - abortion, homosexuality, etc. I see too many gray areas, and I feel too much pain for the people who find themselves in situations where abortion seems to be the only option, or who find themselves mocked and rejected because of their sexual orientation. Yes, I happen to believe that Scripture teaches about the sanctity of life, and that sexual relations between anyone other than a man or woman are wrong.

But even that last sentence feels too absolute. I am a victim in some ways of a society that has introduced a lack of absolutes. I do believe that there are absolutes, I'm just not sure that I want to be the one responsible for stating them. For example, "do not murder" is seemingly an excellent absolute, until one begins to define murder. What about abortion? What about capital punishment? Can a person be anti-abortion and pro capital punishment? I know an awful lot of Christians who are. What about the case where continuing the pregnancy risks the life of the mother?

All of these questions confound me, but I found a very insightful article today. We've been talking on Sunday nights in our large gathering and on Tuesdays at house church about what it really means to see people. My argument is this - to really see people, we are suddenly introduced to a world of gray areas, especially if the people are in precarious or hurtful or crises situations. This article deals with some of the questions surrounding the idea of abortion and "selective reduction" and attempts to bring a different perspective, from someone in the midst of a crisis surrounding this issue. You can find it here. Then come back and tell me what you're thinking.

Almost Made It

I almost made a big step today. Almost. I hate that word. I almost made a phone call that could change a number of things is my life. Almost. But I didn't. I chickened out. Again.

I have known for several months that God was asking me to make a step of obedience. A step outside of my comfort zone, and a step against my fears. I've been putting it off for nearly as many months as I've known that God was asking this. He told me months ago that it was time to do something I'd been debating for a year - that this is the next big step of healing for me. And I've put it off.

I can rationalize this with the best rationalizers out there. For the first two months, I didn't have the information I needed to make that step, but I was actively seeking the information. Then, suddenly, it was summer, and I had a new job, and was busy. I needed to make the phone call during the day, but I was never home during the daytime hours. There was never a convenient moment.

The more I rationalized, the more my sense of urgency to obey dissipated. I was able to ignore God's direction quite nicely. But that didn't stop me from complaining about how my relationship with God had gotten worse, how he had grown steadily more silent. What a little hypocrite I am!

And yet, I am terrified to take this step. I am terrified that this next step of healing will necessitate further breaking, further pain, and I'm not sure I want to go there. I hate that I can't control this next period of my life, that it is uncertain and probably pain-filled. And I'm afraid. Afraid to let myself fall apart, afraid to heal and leave this place of woundedness to which I have become accustomed over the last few years.

My house church talked on Tuesday night about where we were with God - about struggling and healing, and pain and Jesus. I told some dear friends how much I know I need to make this step, and how I have been unable to do it, how I have procrastinated for nearly 5 months, and no longer feel the urgency, but am instead numb, tired, and frustrated with my faith. That I have thought about giving up this whole "faith journey" because it seems to be pointless, to be traveling nowhere, and resolving nothing.

My friends prayed with me, and promised to hold me accountable. One made me promise that I would get at least 50% ready to make this step this week - only she knew that this was a step that you either make or you don't - you can't be halfway ready. She called me today, to find out if I had made the step. I hadn't, and wouldn't commit to making it in the remainder of the day.

Tonight, I feel pain more deeply than I have in a long time. Not only have I once again failed to make that step of obedience to God, but I know the disappointment that will be in the eyes and voice of several of my friends the next time I see them or talk to them on the phone. I have failed God, I have failed myself, and I have failed my friends. I am a coward, a person controlled by fear. And, thought I tell myself that come Monday afternoon I will pick up the phone and obey, I cannot convince even myself of that. I wonder if I am lying to myself? It is at moments like this that I wish I was once again a small child - with no independence, and someone could simply make that step on my behalf, could take me by the hand and lead me there. Instead, God is calling me to step into the terrifying unknown, and I'm not sure I'll survive the leap.

Quote of the Moment: Take 3

These quotes are failing to generate discussion... how dull... I thought that last one by Gandhi would at least generate one or two responses. Oh well, I still love quotes, and, since it is MY blog they'll probably keep appearing here! Without further ado, the quote of the moment is:

Vision is the art of seeing the invisible.

~Jonathan Swift~