Friends as Reminders of Our Truth

The following came to my email inbox from the Henri Nouwen Society (daily emails from Nouwen's writings) over the weekend, and I liked the truth it offered, and thought I'd pass it along to you.

Sometimes our sorrow overwhelms us so much that we no longer can believe in joy. Life just seems a cup filled to the brim with war, violence, rejection, loneliness, and endless disappointments.

At times like this we need our friends to remind us that crushed grapes can produce tasty wine. It might be hard for us to trust that any joy can come from our sorrow, but when we start taking steps in the direction of our friends' advice, even when we ourselves are not yet able to feel the truth of what they say, the joy that seemed to be lost may be found again and our sorrow may become livable.

I love...

This is one of those "things that make me smile" type posts, because, after a long four day weekend of introspection, and facing some of the harder things in my life right now, I needed to remind myself about some of the beautiful ones. So I used one of the journalling prompts from Kim McMechan's seminar a couple weeks ago, and this is what I came up with. Rather than titling it "Things that make me smile", this is simply a list that begins, "I love..."

I Love…

• The flicker of candles in my darkened bedroom

• The convenience of my laptop computer
• Hot pink crocs
• Trident peppermint gum (in the dark blue package)
• Steve Bell’s song “Restless”
• The prospect of lunch dates with various friends this week
• The wavy ikea mirror that hangs on my wall
• The crucifix on my wall from my trip to Mexico – it reflects the tenderness of Jesus, even as he hangs on the cross and suffers. A tender, suffering Savior.
• Chocolate crème oreos
• Having all my books neatly organized on shelves.
• Passion tea from starbucks
• The warm relaxed feeling after a long, hot, bubble bath
• My hair on a really good curly day
• Cute shoes
• Milk chocolate
• Photos of friends and family all over my bedroom
• Art that has hidden meanings (even if only I know what they are)
• Curling up with a novel and losing myself in it
• Stumbling upon a writing that is breathtaking in its beauty
• Laughing with friends
• Really good emails
• Encouragement from friends
• Praying with people who know my heart
• Time spent with Kari
• Dinner and movie dates with Megan
• Hearing someone’s redemption story
• Watching M*A*S*H*
• Particularly idealistic characters
• Making beautiful things
• Turkey breast subs from Subway, on wheat, with lettuce, cucumber, sweet onion sauce, mayo and sub sauce
• BBQ Pork Vietnamese noodle bowls
• Cold, refreshing water
• Hiking Ptarmigan cirque early in the spring when no one is there yet, and you can really enjoy the beauty of the mountain peace
• Sharing the things I love with friends
• Knowing I’ve connected with someone, and eased their burden, if only temporarily
• Rooibos tea
• Any particularly cosy piece of clothing
• Coming home from work and putting on jeans and a hoody
• Encountering Jesus in the really surprising moments
• The Gospel of Mark

I guess I'll just be restless...

I've been thinking more since I wrote yesterday. I've had a song called "Restless" by Steve Bell floating around my brain for the last couple of days. (If you don't know Steve Bell, he's a fabulous Canadian singer/songwriter from Winnipeg. Part mystic, part theologian, a fantastic story-teller, and master of the art of lament.)

I was chatting with Kari and Steve for a few minutes about that last bit - the lament bit - at the conference my company hosted last weekend. I'd met Steve a number of times in the past, and when we started looking for suitable entertainment for 300 Mennonites, he came to mind. It went great. But, as I was saying, since we were chatting about lament, I wanted to take the opportunity to say thank you to Steve for talking openly about the need for laments in the church, and for writing so many fantastic songs that express lament. His music was some of the only "Christian" music I listened to during all of those years of depression.

I particularly listened to the song I mentioned at the beginning of this post, off of the "Waiting for Aidan" album (my personal favorite, for so many darker emotions that I deeply related to at various points, as well as the offered hope.) Through those years of depression, of wanting to die, but knowing I could never act on that; of begging God to simply release me - from life, from any committment to him, since it had been so painful, I identified with these words that Steve penned. They came back again yesterday morning, as we were driving to church, and again last night as I headed out to see a movie, and yet again off and on all day today. Particularly this line:

I get no rest from the days of my week
I get even less on a Sunday
Sunday's become the antagonists' feast
Like an arrow through me

This is how I felt yesterday, as I headed to church to prepare to celebrate the risen Christ. I wondered where he was, why, on this day of all days, I couldn't seem to summon the hope and joy that the day was supposed to entail. Why I couldn't seem to find direction for my future.

I'll give you the whole lyric now... I can't help longing. So I guess I'll just be restless till He satisfies me.

Restless
(music and lyrics by Steve Bell)

Blest are the departed
The repose for which I long
To descend into the fathomless quiet of God

Wretched are the rest of us
Tossed upon the sea
And I guess I'll just be restless till you satisfy me

I get no rest from the days of my week
I get even less on a Sunday
Sunday's become the antagonists' feast
Like an arrow through me

So I fly to a desolate place
Here am I
Falling on my face
To silence every claim to my soul
Just to see God sitting high on a throne
But I'm not yet free
That's my dis-ease

Scanning the clouds for some sign of your face
Maybe the whole thing is folly
Like waiting for Eden to rise from the lake
But I can't help longing

So I fly to a desolate place
Here am I
Falling on my face
To silence every claim to my soul
Just to see God sitting high on a throne
But I'm not yet free
That's my dis-ease

Blest are the departed
The respose for which I long
To descend into the fathomless quiet of God

Waiting are the rest of us
Tossed upon the sea
And I guess I'll just be restless till you satisfy me
So I guess I'll just be restless till you satisfy me.

He is risen...

He is risen indeed! Hallelujah!

I always feel like that call and response saying we all grew up with needs a hallelujah on the end. Sort of a benediction. A way to finish the sentiment, and give all the attention to the right thing.

Today was... interesting.

To be honest, right now I'm really wrestling with church a bit. Wondering again if it was the right decision to go back to my dad's church, get involved with the youth. Wondering what this season of life is.

I drove to church with my mom today, and on our way we picked up my nana. Just before we got to Nana's house, my mom asked a question, and I mentioned in an off-hand kind of way that I really wanted to stay at home today, just skip church entirely. Mom jumped immediately into a thing about "if you're not sure about coming to this church..." And I nearly started to cry, except we were about two seconds away from Nana's house, and it wouldn't have worked to start that whole discussion. All I could do was answer that I'm really frustrated with where my life is at right now, and church is only one expression of that.

I was supposed to be living in another city, possibly another country, by this point in the spring. If not another city, at least not in my parents house anymore. But I'm not. The girl I was moving cities with changed plans, and it only made sense to move countries if we did it together. We were also supposed to move in together in Calgary if the other plans fell through. She told me a week or two ago that she's accepted a request to become the roommate of another friend entirely.

I spent Lent praying for direction, and fasting in various ways to seek that direction, and I still have no idea what I'm doing. It's not that I regret the fasts - I learned some valuable things about myself - it's just that I was hoping for something clear. Some sense of next steps, of my place in the world, and of what I'm going to do in the next season of my life.

I'm tired all the time right now. Some of this is weighing on me, and my sleep feels like an area of spiritual attack once again. I have to be hyper-vigilant about praying protection each night before I fall asleep, or I'm highly likely to suffer nightmares. Because I don't sleep at night, I tend to fall asleep every time I slow down. I fell asleep in an armchair this afternoon, with a houseful of relatives sitting and chatting around me (though admittedly, we were all watching golf on television, and that does end up being rather soothing after a while).

Church this morning ended up being okay. The worship was great. It was great to simply celebrate Jesus and his redemptive power. I sat with Nana (who doesn't make it to church very often any more because of her health), and that's always fun. (Nana is my adopted, very British grandmother, a lady our family has known for years, who happens to live across the back alley from our house.) I chatted with a few of the youth.

You see, the thing that frustrates me with going to the church I'm attending is, it was supposed to be temporary. I was supposed to know by now what came next. I was supposed to be moving on. Instead, I wonder if I'm beginning to lose myself again in the sort of religious culture that it took so very long for me to begin to untangle myself from in the first place.

I don't know what comes next, and that is terrifying and angering, and makes me cry just thinking about it tonight.

I'm working to rest in the end of the phrase I started the post with. That last word that God has spoken so often to me over the last year and a half. The hallelujah. I want to live there. I'm trying to live there. It's not so easy just at the moment, but it's worth my best shot, with a few desperate prayers like "Help!" thrown in.

He is risen. He is risen indeed. Hallelujah.

Good Start to the Day

I didn't sleep very well again, but forced myself to lay in bed until 8:30 or so.

However, I got a nice surprise when I emerged from my bedroom.

My mom had made bacon and waffles for breakfast. SO good. There have been lots of times lately when I've chafed against living with my parents, and the way it tends to curtail my independence, but I have to admit, getting up on the occasional weekend morning to find a great breakfast waiting has definite positives too.

I made a quick trip to the farmer's market with mom, and this afternoon, since my parents have a counselling session in our living room, I'm going to head out to the grocery store, and probably to China town to pick up some baking.

All in all, it's been a good day so far.