An Affinity for a Dreaming King

I just came home from the final gathering of a Bible study that I've been a part of off and on since September. It's been taught by a brilliant teacher (though the group was entirely awkward) and we've been doing a basic survey of the Old Testament.

We worked our way through part of Daniel tonight, reading chronologically, rather than in the order the chapters are laid out.

I feel a definite affinity and sense of empathy for King Nebuchadnezzar and all his troubles with dreams. I laughed internally as we read of his fury at his advisors - "Tell me my dream and what it means, I'm greatly disturbed." Boy, do I know that feeling! There have been so many mornings over the course of my life and particularly lately where I come awake, and know I've been dreaming, for it has left a sense of disturbance, and even fear at times in my emotions, but I have no idea why. I'd love to have someone who could tell me what I dreamed and what it meant. And then he dreams again, and this time he can remember the dream, and repeat it, but still can't quite figure it out. Been there, done that. (Just ask the friends who regularly get emails from me asking if they have any insight into this dream or that dream!) I understand this guy, who suddenly finds himself blindsided in his sleep by God, and can't quite figure out what to do with it.

Did you know that I haven't slept through the night (more than 4 or very occasionally 5 straight hours) in at least two months now? I don't dream every night - but I do dream most nights. I don't retain most of the dreams, just the damage they do to my emotional and spiritual equilibrium. The ones I do retain, I rarely seem to understand. I'm thrilled that God is speaking. (But I really would like to sleep at least a couple times a week.) Often I wake to voices, though I rarely retain the words, strong pictures, things repeating over and over again as I toss and turn through the night, but not ingraining themselves strongly enough that I can remember and respond when I wake.

Like I said, I feel a certain empathy for this Babylonian king who was ambushed by God Most High while he slept.

Pants!

Okay, so this may be the least profound post ever, but I just wanted to let you all know that I bought a pair of pants last night. This may seem very ordinary, but I seem to be in between sizes at the moment, and have been having great difficulty locating a pair of pants that fits properly (and I rather desperately needed pants - can't keep wearing the same two pairs in rotation to work for weeks on end!).

Now all I have to do is shorten them by six inches or so (blast the fact that girls pants don't come in lengths like guys do), and then I'll be happily wearing them around town!

Lent, two weeks in

I realized tonight that I am enjoying this season of Lent, that it is doing things in my heart yet again, that God is working, even where I didn't expect him.

I'm fasting once a week, and I've stopped reading fiction for the course of this season. Both things that I felt God was asking me to do without for a while, in order to more fully listen to his voice. Both food and novels are ways I hide from the world, and often from the more painful realities in my own life, and the painful things God is doing.

Here's the thing, while the fasting isn't that easy, and I can't quite figure out what to do with my time now that I'm not reading two or three novels a week, I feel certain things shifting in me. I feel parts of me coming alive again, in ways they haven't been alive for a quite a while now. I am listening more, instead of filling the space in my head with false realities. I am hearing God, and voices of people I trust. I'm checking out sermons, reading works of theology and biography, and watching things that challenge me. I am feeling inspired to create again, and to write. I haven't particularly wanted to write this last while - not the blogging sort of writing, but essay writing, and working on a book project I started last fall. I want to create beauty again, rather than just enjoy other's creations from a distance.

Today, as I took the train to work, I was writing in the journal that has rapidly become my c-train book (it's smaller than my other journal, more portable, and pretty - orange silk with a cool decoration - a gift from a friend's trip to China last year). As I was writing, I began to reflect on the various things I'd learned in four weeks of fasting on Mondays. I'm not going to share those things here, yet, and maybe never, but as I wrote I came to the conclusion that even if God does not provide the clarity and direction I'm seeking over the course of this fast, I won't regret it. I value the things I am learning about myself, about God, and about my relationship with God.

Sometime in the next few days I'm going to post some "Jesus stories" here. The latest discussion topic on Marty's blog has got me thinking, and I definitely have some stories to tell - some I'll tell there, some I'll tell here.

See you then!

Good Read

Check out this article (on RelevantMagazine.com) by Jason Upton's drummer. I appreciated the reminder of the importance of the "ordinary" events.

Glad for Distance

The vast majority of my extended family lives far away. I see them once every four or five years, or in between if some of them happen to visit Canada.

There have been moments that I’ve resented this distance – this separation from an entire part of my heritage. I’m a historian. I can’t help it. I value family and family heritage quite highly.

But what I really need to admit is that most of the time I’m very glad that they live in another country. That particular part of my family is the very epitomy of the word “dysfunctional.” I once described certain members of that side of my family to a friend who is never without a joke. After I finished, he kind of stared at me for a second, paused, and wryly said, “There’s just no punchline – they’re their own punchline.” To be honest, I think the constant drama, the constant issues, the emotional and spiritual tension would weigh on me far more heavily than it already does at times if I lived nearby. I feel called to love broken people, and break silences that oppress, but a lot of the time I struggle to extend that compassion to my own family, so mired in silence, so seemingly beyond restoration.

May God grant me a growing heart of mercy and restoration not only for the world, but for those within my own family.