Re-Learning (Blessed be Your Name)

It's interesting to me how something that you've been taught in such a way that you were certain you would never be able to ignore or forget it, can be easily forgotten or ignored in the midst of hard spaces.

A few days ago I wrote here about some of the lessons I learned in the midst of the many years that I suffered from depression.

A few nights ago I stood in a park, on the bank of a creek, in spots I've often gone to walk and pray, and had to resubmit myself to one of those lessons.

"I learned that God is sovereign, and even in the darkest of spaces He is absolutely, completely and totally worthy of my worship."

I have again been living in the dark spaces - not the depression of years past, but deep and in many ways very similar struggles. And I have been angry at finding myself again in these spaces. And it has been very easy to push God to the side. To blame him for the way my life has looked this last while.

So I stood on the creek bank, with the rain running down my face, reminding me of the tears that won't quite fall, and began to re-learn what it means to worship a sovereign God in the midst of the dark spaces. And I was reminded of the song lyrics that Jesus used to teach me that lesson in the first place.

Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name

Blessed Be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's 'all as it should be'
Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your name
(Matt Redman)

Blessed be His name. In the desert place. In the wilderness. On the road marked with suffering. When offering praise is painful. When the darkness closes in. My heart is choosing again to bless His name.

Cooking and other evening thoughts

L. (our future roommate) and I are cooking dinner. We decided that since it was the weekend, and since we have no particular evening plans other than relaxing, we would cook a really nice meal.

So we're cooking "Fantastic Roasted Chicken" (recipe here) and serving it with roast potatoes, steamed snap peas, and steamed carrots in an orange-brown sugar sesame herb glaze.

We joked about the fact that we could use lots of garlic, cause we're not seeing boys tonight!

The plan is to throw a goofy, fun, possibly even sappy movie into the dvd player after dinner, curl up with some microwave popcorn, and flip through the stack of cookbooks we picked out at the library this afternoon, looking for future weekend cooking plans.

I'll bake banana bread at some point tonight. And hang our shower curtain liner.

We did errands for probably 5 hours this morning. The farmer's market, the grocery store, a wine shop, and a fantastic little European bakery (we bought pastries for dessert following our dinner tonight). I bought some gifts for some friends at 10,000 villages.

I took a long, lavender scented bath, and read a book this afternoon. At the moment, I'm contemplating dozing off on the couch in between checking on the chicken in the oven.

Tomorrow afternoon L. and I will pull out the scrapbooking supplies, and make some greeting cards, fulfilling a need we're both feeling to "do something artistic".

Our apartment is starting to smell pretty fantastic.

It's been a pretty good (though with a few car accident from last night related blips) day.

Beautiful Plans

This is the first Saturday in a while that I've greeted with anticipation.

I walked for a long time in the park, in the rain last night, talking with Jesus, and watching creation. The longer I walked and prayed, the harder it rained. I saw a couple of deer, and some geese and ducks, listened to the birds singing out. The rain ran down my face, pooled in the corners of my eyes, and slipped, like the tears that won't quite come, down my cheeks. It was a gift - rich and deep and healing.

And then I had a minor car accident. But that is something that is surprisingly okay as well.

I spoke for a long time with a dear friend when I arrived home. Sharing of hearts, and laughter, and praying together. The second gift.

I was up way too late, but slept deeply, without dreams or waking for about four straight hours, and then slept a couple hours more after that. That too was a gift.

And so, I'm greeting this morning with anticipation, with peace, with rest, with some degree of joy. I have a long list of things to be accomplished today, but they are mostly things that will feed my soul and bring a smile to my face.

These are the things I need to do today or tomorrow:

• shop for groceries
• purchase a bottle of wine
• visit the Farmer's Market (to buy the best homemade turkey-mango sausage, fruit, bath salts, honey, and maybe some beeswax candles)
• hang a new liner for our shower curtain
• visit 10,000 Villages and purchase a few items I should have bought a few weeks back, and a few gifts
• bake banana bread
• mop our kitchen floor
• visit the library
• help our future roommate pack and move her things from her current place to our house, and to her temporary lodging for the next month until we move to a new place
• buy flowers
• email a friend
• write a card for my aunt and enclose a gift I purchased in Rome (a tiny silver crucifix, bought at the Vatican - a gift for my aunt who is not only one of my favorite people, but a nun.) My parents are visiting her in about two weeks, and will deliver my card and gift for me.
  
• rest
• read
• laugh
• cook something fantastic
• and possibly even take a nap!
  

Jesus' Self-Portrait - Henri Nouwen

Another thought from Henri Nouwen

Jesus' Self-Portrait

Jesus says: "Blessed are the poor, the gentle, those who mourn, those who hunger and thirst for uprightness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and those who are persecuted in the cause of uprightness" (Matthew 5:3-10). These words offer us a self-portrait of Jesus. Jesus is the Blessed One. And the face of the Blessed One shows poverty, gentleness, grief, hunger, and thirst for uprightness, mercy, purity of heart, a desire to make peace, and the signs of persecution.

The whole message of the Gospel is this: Become like Jesus. We have his self-portrait. When we keep that in front of our eyes, we will soon learn what it means to follow Jesus and become like him.

3 Stones

I have three stones sitting on my desk this morning, each with a word etched into it. Physical reminders of the things I'm clinging to.

One was a gift from a friend. A red stone, heart-shaped, with the word "loved" etched into it.

The other two I purchased at a local fair-trade shop called 10,000 Villages.

The first is smooth and round and simply bears the word "courage".

The second is also somewhat heart-shaped and has the word "hope" carved into it's surface.

I need the reminder that I am loved, that I am "not alone" this morning. I need the ability to cling to courage, to physically hold it in my hand. And hope. Hope has been the word for this season. The thing I've clung to. The thing that has at times seemed to be slipping from my grasp. Especially this week. So I roll it through my fingers as well, and let my heart talk to Jesus a little. Thanking him for loving me and going with me, for sending a few dear friends who can do the same. Asking for courage in the face of immense and overwhelming fears, and for hope in the midst of the hopelessness.