the sun on my face again

Just thought I'd stop in here for a minute. I'm sitting in my friend's computer room in Langley, catching up on a few emails and reading a few blogs.

I think most of you know that the last half of August and all of September was a really deep and struggling time for me. That there was stuff going on in our family life, and stuff going on in my church life that created a great deal of pain and wrestle. That I was tired and worn and dry. Feeling dead and exhausted from thinking and feeling pain so deeply. I haven't cried so much in years.

But the tears, in the words of a Karla Adolphe song "are dampening my soul". I can breathe here. I needed this week away from Calgary, the space and the distance from the things that troubled me. My soul was softened, raked over and bruised this past month. I feel the sun on my face again.

I just wanted to let you know that I feel new things sprouting, there is a refreshment here, a sense of quiet, a knowledge of the rightness of some of the decisions I made in the last week.

And I'm oh so grateful to Jesus for that.

infested sleep

Okay, seriously, enough with the creepy crawly things in my dreams. You may recall that I've had a couple of weird dreams in the last year about snakes, and this morning, well, this morning I dreamt about snails, and slugs, in my bed. Oh yes. It really was lovely. Anyone want to take a stab at why my dreams (at least the ones I remember) so often seem to be about things crawling over, on, or trying to get into me? Cause I'm really not so much into the whole, there are snakes or snails, or slugs crawling over my body phenomenon. If I was interested in that kind of ridiculous torture, I'd go on "Fear Factor" or something ridiculous like that!

A decision made

Yesterday and today didn't go quite the way I planned, but they were beautiful in their own way. My desk is still a disaster zone - something I'm hoping to fix tomorrow after work. I didn't end up verbally speaking the things on my heart, but I wrote them, and I have officially entered a season of transition.

For those of you who didn't know, I've been wrestling these past several weeks with a decision regarding whether or not I should continue to attend the church I've called home for the past three and a half years, or whether it was time to move on.

It's time to move on.

I've had an interesting God kind of day. He woke me this morning. I, like Samuel, didn't catch it the first time, and I hit play on my cd player, rolled over and went back to sleep. I woke again within half an hour, much more firmly awake. It still took me several minutes to get it, but I decided that given the decision I knew I had to make today, it would be prudent to hang out with God for a while. He led me to Isaiah, and I read pages and pages, encouraged and strengthened by the words of the prophet. At one point, (8:11), Isaiah says, "The Lord has given em a strong warning not t o think like everyone else." That caught my attention. I read probably ten or twelve chapters, struck by God's redeeming love, his willingness to use even the harshest methods to draw His people closer to his heart, to create a strong and beautiful remnant for His glory.

Last week I wrote about not being able to escape the passage that describes Christ as "the stone the builders rejected that has become the cornerstone." Let me string together for you several bits of scripture that have begun to permeate my thinking this week.

"The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. He is the stone that makes people stumble and the rock that makes them fall. They stumble because they do not obey God's word, and so they meet the fate that was planned for them. The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. Look I am placing a foundation stone in Jerusalem, a firm and tested stone. It is a precious cornerstone that is safe to build on. Whoever believes need never be shaken. You are coming to Christ, who is the living cornerstone of God's temple. He was rejected by people, but he was chosen by God for great honor. And you are living stones that God is building into his spiritual temple."

These are the words of the prophet Isaiah, and the apostle Peter. What's interesting to me is that Peter is the about whom Christ said, "On this 'rock' (Peter means rock) I will build my church." And Peter goes on to say that we together are stones being used by God to build His temple here on earth. And heres's the thing, Christ is with us as we are being built into a temple to glorify the name of the Lord. He is the cornerstone, the foundation without which the temple could not exist. And HE IS SAFE TO BUILD ON. Wow.

So I went to the meeting, and joined the people I love in worship, and prayed with them over some dear friends who are moving away from Calgary this next week, and, as I talked with a friend afterwards, and I left the home I knew.

My time in that community is done. All week I have been without peace as I wrestled and cried and prayed. But today, I felt such peace. It is time to step into something new. Maybe just for a season, maybe permanently.

I love these people, and I will see them often, but God is calling me onward to new things. He has given just enough light for the step in front of me, and I'm taking it. I go forward praying for the community I am leaving, and believing that the heart connections are far stronger than just those of physical proximity on Sundays.

This is right, and I am trusting that Christ will indeed be, "a precious cornerstone that is safe to build on."

Cleaning

I've often said that my bedroom reflects my state of mind. If I'm in a generally good place, the space is clean, and ready for creativity to burst forth. If I'm in a generally clouded and wrestling state of mind, my space tends to reflect that too, particularly my desk.

This has been a long few weeks of an extremely clouded and messy state of mind. I'm tired of it. So I'm going to clean. And then I'm going to finish writing something that I started writing two weeks ago.

And tomorrow, I'm going to set about finding a voice that I lost three years ago. I have never had trouble expressing myself verbally, but these last three years, it's been like I was struck dumb. I couldn't verbally string together a cohesive paragraph in certain situations to save my life. The last year I've gained back a great deal of my written voice, and even some of my oral voice, but tomorrow, I'm going to fight back. I'm going to find a voice. Even if it's small and timid, and colored with tears, I'm going to find it. Even if I have to read aloud something I've written. I'm going to find my voice. I'm going to fight for it, and then I'm planning to say a long-coming and painful goodbye.

Cryptic, yes. I'm sorry. Maybe tomorrow or Monday I'll make things clear for you here. If you think of me before then, pray for me. It will be a battle to begin to speak again. And if I don't get here before Tuesday, then you'll have to wait a week or so. I'm leaving for the coast on Wednesday to spend some time with two dear friends, to rest and pray, to grieve the things I'm leaving, and celebrate new things, and refocus for a new season of life.

There's cleaning to be done. I once heard tears described as the way the soul cleans itself. Well, my soul has done a lot of cleaning these last few weeks, and now I'm going to physically clean too.

Something seems off...

I forget occasionally how much of a blessing it is to live in a country that is relatively politically stable. I was reading news coverage this morning of the recent military coup in Thailand, and nearly all of the news stories used the phrase "...the country's first military coup in fifteen years..."

Seems slightly funny when you read it. Like it's such a good thing that it's been fifteen years since the last coup. Like the coups are a fact of life, and you just have to be grateful if they don't happen too regularly!

Two Thoughts

Two quick thoughts....

First, I was "evangelized" on the train on my way to work this morning. I was as is normal for the first half of my trip smushed between several people, and I had my arm over a small asian lady's shoulder, trying to hold on to something that I could actually reach. (At 5'2", the hand holds from the ceiling aren't a very viable option.) I was wearing headphones, listening to a worship mix on my ipod, and trying to prepare myself mentally, emotionally and spiritually for the day ahead. All of a sudden the little (and I do mean little, she was a head shorter than me) asian lady reaches into her bag, and whips halfway around, holding the object out to me. "You want this?"

Now let me just say that I had already established, without ever speaking to this woman, that she was likely a Christian of some variety or other. She was holding an obviously well-used Bible in her arms, waiting for a chance for a seat so she could read. The object she was so suddenly holding out to me happenend to be a CD of a sermon from a local church. I politely declined to accept the CD, hoping that this would end the conversation. Instead she demanded, "Are you already a Christian?"

Seeing no hope for it, I answered yes, again hoping that this would end the conversation.

Instead, she demanded, "What church you go to?" And now I knew I was in a pickle, because my church does not have a nice normal churchy name that people recognize. (And just keep in mind that I was in fact touching another person on every side. This was the c-train at rush hour.) Again I answered quietly with the name of my church. "Epic." "What kind of church is that?" she demanded. "I'm sorry...?" "Is it evangelical?" Finally a question I could answer the way she wanted to hear. An answer that would end the conversation. "Yes." "What kind of a name is Epic? It should be 'Church of Christ' or 'Christ our Lord.' Those are good names for a church."

How does one answer this one? It is 7:30am, on a packed train, and there was not way I was even going to attempt to explain a church name that I'm not sure even I understand. So I shrugged, and again declined to accept the CD she was still waving at me.

"Do you have a friend who's pentecostal?" Now that one caught me off guard. What the heck kind of a question is that!? "Umm... yes." "You take this and give to them."

I conceeded defeat, accepted the CD, thanked her politely for the gift which I slipped into my bag, and she, somewhat mollified turned back around. I accepted the sympathetic looks of a number of fellow passengers who had watched this mini drama playing out in front of them with the grateful eyes of people who are not being accosted in the early morning quiet with some sort of purposeful evangelism. And I disembarked because we had reached my stop.

So, I've been evangelized. Don't you feel good about me? My boss, when I described the scene over lunch at work wondered if we're no evangelizing "within the fold." And are you all praying for me because I have a pentecostal friend? You should you know. I could end up becoming one!

Now that the sarcasm is out of the way, my second thought is somewhat more serious. All day yesterday and today, as I grieved, and prayed, and wept, and laughed, I have not been able to escape this scripture. I have no idea what to do with it, but it is one of those profound thoughts that refuses to go unrecorded.

"The stone the builder's rejected has become the capstone."

Tomorrow night we gather to pray and be in scripture. If you're in Calgary and would like to join us, call or email sometime tomorrow. If you can't join us, please, pray for and with us.

When did that happen?

Megs and I were watching Grey's Anatomy, and one of the lines from one of the episodes stuck with me in a big way.

"I'm an adult! When did that happen? And how do I make it stop?"

Yep. Been feeling that one lately. Missing the non-decision making, limited responsibility days of childhood as I'm in the midst of a number of transitions, and a number of trying situations.

When did I become an adult? And how do I make it stop?

joy comes in the mourning

Today has been thus far a day of weeping. Some things inside me are dead. And I've realized that, and grieved. I cried all the makeup right off my face this morning, then looked at a friend and remarked that I was glad I took the time to put it on so carefully before I left home. We laughed together, she, her husband and I.

I am mourning some things, and I am hurting. But there are tiny little bits of joy. And I'm praying and believing that they will root and grow and bear fruit in my life. That although some things are dead, there are new things being born.

I spent the morning and much of the afternoon grieving the dead and dying things. I wept, I couldn't eat, I couldn't find the energy to really laugh, even in the funny moments. And now I'm off to celebrate the impending birth of a friend's child. To laugh and eat and enjoy the company of some girls I've worked with over the last year. To celebrate the baby that will be born soon.

An odd, juxtaposed sort of day. The kind that has left me full of thoughts and empty of words.

joy comes in the mourning.

mumbling, bumbling and other incoherence

It's been one of those introverted, not too much happening, thinking way too much kind of weeks. I can't quite believe that I haven't posted since last Sunday, but I haven't actually spent very much time at my computer (at least my home computer) this week.

I'm fumbling, bumbling, and mumbling under my breath as I wander through the maze of considering a change in churches. My church has entered a "transition" stage for what has to be at least the third time in the three years I've been attending. Not that transition is in any way bad - it's more that this particular phase of transitioning has reignited a number of questions and concerns that have been lying quiet and dormant for much of the last six months.

Some days I miss the whole not hearing from God thing. Other days I wish I could hear Him with the clarity I hear my mom telling me to wash dishes, or my dad asking me to clean up the yard after our dog so he can mow the back lawn. Most days I live somewhere in between not hearing at all and hearing with clear understanding. The infinite inbetweenness.

Rainy weather is bad for my state of mind when I'm already in a wrestling, mumbling, overthinking kind of phase. And the weather has been rainy since Wednesday morning. Pouring rain, grey skies with little to distinguish sunrise from sunset - mostly just soggy greyness everywhere. The streets, the sky, the whole world has felt grey this week.

Before the rain, on Tuesday night I went to a house concert in some friend's backyard. The band (Jacob and Lily - check them out - fabulous!) played under an apple tree decorated with twinkle lights and paper lanterns. I sat and simply soaked. Let the tension from too much thinking drain off a little, enjoyed the music, and enjoyed watching my friends enjoy the music. I love how many different ways there are for body language to communicate relaxation, enjoyment, concentration. Every person there a little different, but everyone seeming to have a great time. This event had to be by far one of the coolest things I've done this summer. Right up there with spending a day with Megs in the mountains. Sitting in mountain cirque in the sun and taking in the creation.

And one of Karla's CDs has been the perfect soundtrack for my introspective, overthinking, mellow, grey weather mood. I loaded it on my ipod the morning after the concert and have listened to it nearly every day on my commute to and from work.

So here's a question - what do you look for in a church community? I've been thinking and praying and thinking and praying, trying to figure out next steps, and I have no idea. I have some vague notions of what things are important to me, and even some clear ideas, but I have no idea how to make a decision about changing, or even what things I need to think about. I grew up in the church my dad pastored, and stumbled in my current church community completely by accident. I haven't so much had to think about these sorts of things before. So I'm really asking all of you blog readers for your insights.

Keep praying for us. Tuesday night the first batch of friends is gathering at my home to barbeque and to pray and be in scripture together. This is a dream beginning to play out, and I feel helpless and nervous. As much as I crave genuine community, it scares me to death. I'm pretty up front with my flaws, with my mumblings and bumblings, but it still scares me to commit to always being honest about those things. To share all of them, not just the ones I can make funny or pretty. But it's something God has placed so heavily on me - a calling to live a genuine life before Him and the world. Most days I fail miserably. Most days I don't remember that I'm trying to live out a God calling, and I live a "Lisa" calling. But I really do want so much more out of this... Pray for us, that we will push through and genuinely be open with each other, that we will genuinely seek the heart of God as we gather.

Walking and Praying

I went for a walk tonight. This is almost unheard of behaviour for me. I am the stereotypical bookworm academic. I am much happier curled up in a chair than moving around. It was made especially atypical by the fact that I represented the Bay at a local bridal expo today, and was on my feet far more than is usual, and they were sore after my shift ended.

I came home from the expo, watched another episode or two of the West Wing, and realized that I needed to create some space to do some thinking and praying. And that I needed to walk, and to be in nature to do it. So I gathered up my ipod, purse, car keys, sunglasses and cell phone (no one said I had to rough it to be in nature), hopped in the car and drove myself to Fish Creek Park.

For the next half-hour or so I simply walked and soaked. I played a Jason Upton cd through the ipod and just walked. There was a deer on my path at one point - so close I could have almost touched it before it ran away into the bushes. The clouds were beautiful, the air was crisp, the birds were everywhere, and there were very few people. So I walked and worshipped and prayed a little. Mostly I needed to make sure I took the time to soak in the presence of God. I felt like there was space to breath. There was freedom. I think that God propelled me from my couch into the park to see a bigger picture again. To be reminded of the beauty in His creation, the vastness of who He is. To draw my attention from the narrow situation that I've focused on to Him. As I was driving there I was thinking about how desperately I needed to find a human being to talk through this situation in great depth with, picking apart every aspect until I found just the right words to communicate my heart and solve everything. As soon as I thought that, I felt God reminding me that I really needed to talk with Him about this situation. That it is His. So I walked, and I breathed, and I soaked, and I prayed. My mind was quite for at least the entire first loop. I simply noticed my surroundings and soaked in the music and presence of God. The second loop I began to pray a little, and then I was done.

I'm in the midst of a difficult situation yet again. I'm working on writing a piece that God has laid clearly on my heart to communicate to some of those involved in the situation. It's not been easy, and is probably why I needed to walk and pray.

So here's what my week looks like: My last shift at the Bay as a full-time employee is tomorrow. Tomorrow night Megs and my brother and I are going to see Starfield play and hear David Nasser speak. Tuesday I start my new job full-time, and Tuesday night is a house concert that I'm attending. The rest of the week will be pretty quiet and restful as I begin to adapt to my new job and use the evenings to take it easy, and to continue writing this piece.

Pray for me this week as I am studying scripture and writing. I want desperately to hear God clearly and communicate His heart in this situation.

Pray for me too, as I begin meeting in the next weeks with a group of friends to worship, pray, and study scripture together on a regular basis. I have been dreaming of this somewhat quietly for a long time - a God dream hidden deep that is beginning to come to frution. We desire to meet God intimately as we meet with each other, to honor Him and and invite His presence and His kingdom among us.

And with that, I'm off to bed - to read scripture, pray a bit more, and sleep.

like my dad.

My dad cracked up at a statement I made tonight. When I asked him why he was laughing, he said it was because I think so much like him at times.

I had given him a copy of an email I received today in regards to a difficult situation that I've found myself involved in. I asked him to read the email, and tell me what he thought.

After he read it, I told him that I felt that I needed to respond to the message, and respond not only to the writer, but to three people in the situation at once. He asked me what I would say, and I told him where I would start. I would start by clarifying the basics of the process of discernment surrounding the situation.

And he laughed, because the question I raised is the one he would have started with too.

Somewhere along the way, without my ever really noticing it was happening, some healing has begun to happen in my relationship with my dad. We've had more conversations this week than we've had in the last year, and they've been challenging and helpful conversations. I didn't know it was happening, but I'm sure grateful that it is.

And, if I have to think like someone else, most days I'm glad it's like my dad. (Although he apologized tongue in cheek to one of my brother's and I the other day for teaching us to think independently, to weigh things carefully against scripture, and to make wise and careful decisions to the best of our abilities. He apologized because it has meant that we don't fit easily into many situations - we don't swallow what other people automatically ingest as truth. We are cautious, at times analytical. He didn't really mean to apologize. He was simply acknowledging that we are different from many of our peers. He's not sorry, just sorry that it has at times made our lives ridiculously bumpy.) Ah, well, like I said, most days I'm glad he taught us to think well!

Scripture like clothing...

I am re-reading Lauren Winner's "Girl Meets God." Now I am always biased in favor of the spiritual autobiography genre, and it certainly helps that Winner is a historian, focusing on a period of American Religious history that I have found fascinating. It also helps that she is a brilliant and engaging writer, seamlessly weaving history and theology into her account of her journey from Orthodox Judaism to Christianity.

But raving about this book (and you really should all pick it up) is not what I'm writing about. I read a portion today that I found to be particularly profound. Winner is describing a discussion she had with a Jewish friend regarding a particular text in the Jewish scriptures, and she writes:

I remember that this is what drew me to Judaism, in the first place, these words, turning them over like marbles in my hand, living inside the texts like clothes. Sometimes they are wool and they scratch and you want to take them off and maybe you do but you never stay naked for long.

I love this description of the scriptures. I love the idea of Scripture being so very important, so very central that it is like clothing. And I love the way Winner furthered the analogy - that sometimes the text rubs against you, and you discard it, and yet, you always return to it because to not return would to be missing something essential - to be in some way naked.

I think I feel this way about the scriptures. There have been times when I have set them aside, unwilling to accept the implications of various passages. And yet, they draw me back constantly, because without a scriptural basis, my life is somewhat off kilter.

(In a closing parenthetical comment, if you ever want another good read, pick up "Mudhouse Sabbath" also by Winner. She discusses a number of disciplines in which she argues that Christianity could be greatly enriched by drawing from Judaism. Fascinating stuff.)

thinking churchy thoughts

Well, I find myself in the middle of somewhat of a conundrum regarding church. You see, my church, the one that I've called home for the last three and a half years, has just announced that they are entering a period of discerning whether or not they've fulfilled their mandate, and are considering shutting down.

I'm hurting, for a number of reasons in response to this. First, because I really believe that this church is something unique, something needed by many, and that it has the possibilities for many greater things. Second, the situation has not been handled particularly delicately, and the way it was handled has left me reeling a bit, and hurt and angry. There is much I could say to round out this paragraph, but to be honest, I don't see the point.

I came home Sunday night, after the announcement was made, after we all went out for dinner and pretended that the announcement hadn't just been made. (Well, maybe I was the only one pretending, because everyone else who came out for dinner knew in advance.) I came home and had a long conversation with my dad about church. I cried myself through the conversation and into a migraine headache and went to bed.

Now, if you know me, you know that that was a bit of a loaded conversation. Because I left the church I grew up in, the church my dad pastors, to attend the church that may now be closing its doors. I left with my father's blessing, but also with the knowledge through these years that it has not always been a decision that made him particularly happy.

We had another long conversation at dinner tonight. He poses some very good questions, things I can't quite answer. He makes strong points - ones that I wish I could raise with leadership at my church, but ones that I dont' know how to raise without sounding selfish. Things like, why haven't you help me discover my areas of giftedness? Why haven't you allowed for me to grow and mature in opportunities to minister? But I don't want it to be so much about me.

And then, he asked me to carefully consider what I'm looking for in a church body, reminding me that my needs now are quite different than they were three and a half years ago. He said "three years ago you were something of an oozing sore in a lot of areas of your life, you aren't that person anymore, and I suspect that if you were to consider carefully, you'd realize that your needs in a church community have changed as well." I think he might be right.

I still believe that my church community could meet those needs, but some things would need to change. We would need to quit pretending to be community and start actually being it. We would need to take the time to acknowledge that quite a few core members of our church body are struggling, burnt-out, or in very difficult times in our lives. It seems we've been playing at community - claiming it as our own as long as times are good, and are beginning to run from it now when times are somewhat more difficult.

Maybe it's time for a transition. I hate the thought of looking for a new church again - I feel like it took me three years to settle into this community. To be honest, I'm probably not going to be in Calgary that much longer either. The big opportunity that I've mentioned here several times is a relocation to the Los Angeles area. We're moving ahead with plans to relocate sometime between March and May of next year.

My dad suggested that if I decided to leave my church, given the fact that I may not be in Calgary all that much longer, I may want to consider attending his church again. And, to be honest, he raised some good points. They have a new staff member coming on board. It would no longer be only my dad as my pastor. The new guy is someone I've known for quite a while, and have a great deal of respect for. My dad also pointed out that his church excels at developing leaders and giftings. He told me that I have leadership gifts that I'm allowing to lay dormant for reasons he didn't know. He's right.

There are cons - his church is decidely more conservative when it comes to the Holy Spirit and Kingdom Theology - things I've learnt a great deal about in the last three years. His church is also the one I left because I desperately needed to escape the pressures of being the pastor's daughter, and living in the shadow of my family.

I don't know... I guess I just needed to write some of this out on paper. The next while will be about praying for God's guidance in this area of my life, and consulting the wise advisors that He has placed around me.

Jesus Camp

I came across this trailer for an upcoming documentary. It both scared and saddened me. Mostly it saddened me. Do we really live in a world where our response to Islamic extremists using their madras's - their religious schools to indoctrinate future terrorists is to put our "christian" children into camps that do essentially the same kind of thing in an anti-terrorist, Christian extremist kind of way? And is that really any better? Maybe we could just agree that when it comes to religious beliefs, extremism seems to be dangerous in a bad way - not the world changing way that christians are looking for. Maybe we could try being extreme by feeding hungry people, actually stopping to listen to what others are saying, caring for the broken, intervening to stop abuse, caring for prisoners, healing the sick. Maybe it's like John Fischer said in a article I read a couple of months ago - we need to stop being "christian" counsellors, and nurses and doctors and executives, and just be really good at being counsellors and nurses and doctors and executives. We could be really loyal and honest, and genuinely interested in people's lives, and in peace, and maybe we'd make a difference.

I can't figure out how to embed the trailer for the film here, but go to this site, and watch it in the video section, in fact, watch all three clips that they have available. I originally just watched the trailer, but after watching the others I'm almost overcome with anger and sadness. Pay particular attention to how old it tells you the little girl who loves to dance is - what ten or eleven year old do you know that talks like that? When did children become pawns in a ridiculous non-war of the religions? Once you've watched them come back here and leave me a comment letting me know what you're thinking. I'm wondering if I'm the only one that this triggers an intense response for...

Updating

Well, I don't have a whole lot to say. I've been doing a lot of thinking again, but nothing that I can share yet. If you want something worth reading, read Kirk's latest post, or anything Renee has written on her blog in the last month or so.

As for me, the ipod is working, and I'm loving the fact that I can now take all the music I own anywhere I want to go, plus, I can listen to sermons (which I did anyway) from Mars Hill in Grand Rapids, Mosaic in Los Angeles, and Imago Dei (my favorite of the bunch) on the train or bus. Which is great, because it's just in time for me to be commuting about 45 minutes each way by train or bus to my new job. And can I just say that while my church may not be the most stellar in the "teaching" department, any sermon Rick Mckinley at Imago Dei gives is generally worth the listen - challenging and helpful for growth. Or Rob Bell at Mars Hill - always a new perspective, particularly if you're interested in Old Testament. They've done a whole series over the course of the summer with a wide variety of speakers on Isaiah 61.

I went shopping this morning with Megs and bought some new clothes for work. Seems my business wardrobe was pretty limited after a year and a bit at the Bay which has a "white on top, black on the bottom, black shoes" dress code.

And I'm nearing the end of Season 4 of the West Wing and getting ready to start season 5. I'm still in love with the idealism. Anything idealistic really. Just wishing still for a way to translate ideals to reality. Asking for the Kingdom to come, on earth as it is in heaven, or, as Peterson translates it, "As above, so below."