What is in the Center?

She picks a big book off the table. Ever so carefully, she opens it to the center. “So, Mom, did I find Psalms, or Proverbs?” It's a common question in our house these days, and one that I enjoy hearing more than I can find the words for at this moment. My almost-5- year-old princess is becoming quite fascinated with the Word. She memorizes like a sponge and takes in the stories like living water. I praise God for these answered prayers. She has also learned, that if you take your Bible and very carefully open it to the middle, you will more than likely find Psalms or Proverbs. Like a Bible scholar in training, she practices several times a day. I LOVE this pastime. I relish it. I encourage it. I pray that it expands and grows.

But I confess, sometimes I giggle. Sometimes I bite my lip to stifle the laughter that wants to escape. Because, no matter how carefully you open those pages, it is very hard to find Psalms or Proverbs in your brother's World Record Book, in the Jumbo Star Wars coloring book, or in the Anthology of Whole Grain Baking.

She gets seriously bummed and even angry when you try to explain she did not actually find the wisdom she seeking. Because, she was looking, and, by her estimation, following the way that she was taught. But she has forgotten one detail. It matters WHICH book you use.

In the beginning of this Lenten season, I wonder how often we see ourselves mirrored in my daughter's search for Psalms and Proverbs. During this preparation time, we try and make more room in our lives to search for Truth, and Wisdom. We give up little indulgences or maybe we take on disciplines in hopes of seeing, and becoming a little more like Jesus. We follow the rules and examples hoping if we do everything right we will land where we intended.

But sometimes, I wonder, if in out quest to do Lent right, we are still somehow looking in the wrong place. We have made it about the challenge of lent. We have made it about working on ourselves and exploring what we can accomplish. (Instead we should work for Kingdom purposes while He molds and shapes us.) Maybe I spend too much time in the playroom, but it seems to me that leaving Christ out of the journey of Lent is akin to attempting to find Psalms in the Guinness Book of World Records. We have part of the picture engrained but we are still looking in the wrong place. And we may end up, bummed, or annoyed or angry when we realize that introspection and self-denial in and of themselves are only a form of selfishness masquerading in robes of false piety. They cannot and will not lift up the Christ we wish to see.

I am not saying we should abandon Lenten disciplines. I am saying we should look at the direction they point our hearts. Jesus echoes the words of the Prophet Hosea as he talks, saying, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” (Hosea 6:6, Matthew 9:12). Pious discipline for pious discipline's sake (or for the sake of the challenge) will not point us toward redemption. Disciplines that place us in a better position to spread the mercy of the Kingdom here and now will allow us to be Easter people and reflect His light.



What discipline, or what fast have you taken on in this season?

How will you actively serve the Kingdom of God in this time?

Where do you go for wisdom and strength when the Lenten season proves difficult?

True Confessions and Corrections

When I was a kid my parents had an electric typewriter.  I spent hours playing with it.  I sat mesmerized by the hum of the motor and the clack of the keys.  I authored short stories and penned verses of poetry.  I suppose that's where I developed a love for writing.   Along the way I also developed an unhealthy obsession with corrections.

It's weird, I know. I used to appreciate the challenge of lining the tape up just right, so the key would strike at just the right spot to cover the error.  I enjoyed smoothing the rough edges of the film down with my thumb after I pulled the paper off the roller.  I excelled at the puzzle of finding a satisfying piece of white, just the right size for a word or a letter, after most of the sheet had been used up. This proved to be a frequent predicament...you will imagine. I once created a work of art on blue card stock by perfectly "correcting" and typing over every word so that the words appeared flawlessly surrounded by clouds of white on the sky hued paper.   

It did not stop with the "cool" typewriter gadget. I'll admit.  I was also accomplished at using the correction pencil with its stiff green bristles to sweep way what wasn't needed.  My fifth grade math teacher asked me not to use the  yellow erasers that you put on the end of your pencil because they presented a distraction for me.  (Sad, but true.)   I kept a bottle of white-out in my bag at all times in junior high.  No,  I didn't like the smell.  I was compelled with the idea of correcting my words, my grammar, my thoughts... myself.   I honed the ability to hide mistakes and faults; all that did not measure up was coated and retooled.  Even if someone could tell something wasn't originally up to snuff, at least so no one could really know what was there in the first place.

Publicly, I revealed some spiritual, relational and physical errors and typos to prove that I could correct them, or to make other more grievous ones easier to hide.   Worse yet, I would cover the loneliness and isolation of this "correctional" existence by helping others find the corrections for their faults.  Sure, sometimes this was done from a place of good intentions and loving, truthful language.  Sometimes, it was done from a place of thoughtless reaction.  Either way, the damage looms clear and pervasive.

The longer I live within the reality of a God who sees intimately into the disaster I have made with my cover-ups and erasure attempts and loves me completely the more I am intoxicated by the strange mix of awe, love, freedom and I catch.  And the more I wonder...

If Christ came for to heal the broken and provide a way for the lost why is His Church so full of people who revel in the appearance of perfection?

If grace is more descriptive of love than prescriptive of boundaries, what does holiness look like?

If disciples are grown and grace is formative shouldn't disciples be patient and conscious of the soil and environment they present?

Holiness and the Snooze Bar

During this season of Lent, I endeavored in a commitment to examine the wasted moments in my day, and commit them to Kingdom purposes.  I often remark that I  need a few extra hours in my day to get things done.  Since the earth does not seem to be slowing at my request...maybe disciplining myself to find those extra moments would help.  What could be done with those three extra snooze cycles?  The ten minutes in line at the Deli Mart for lunch become productive?   I don't really need the sit-com reruns in the middle of the night when I can't sleep.  Lord, would you have any thing to say then?

Cliche, but still true.   Life is a precious, irreplaceable gift.   I don't wish to squander it by way of inactivity, bloated self importance, or over busyness.   Help us find the balance of the abundant life that you promise.

God, in the course of this busy life, give us times of refreshment and peace; and grant that we may so use our leisure to rebuild our bodies and renew our minds, that our spirits may be opened to the goodness of your creation; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen
----Book of Common Prayer

Can't Hear You

One word describes my day today:  LOUD.  The alarm broke through the peace of slumber and I haven't had anything close to quiet since.  Children argued.  Babies teethed.  School was thunderous.   Volume controls seemed stuck at eleven.  Today has held nonstop noise.

After a work day described as boisterous at best.  I returned home to loud wii games, and sweet, loud children.  I set about cooking a pork roast and trying to quiet my mind; still my spirit.  Before I knew what I had done smoke alarms blared.   The pan was too hot, and lime pepper was smoking fervently.  I grabbed a towel to fan the fog and promptly set it ablaze.  Nice.  Alarms rang louder.

I put out the flames without an issue.  Next to tackle: the problem of all that noise.  By this point all three kids were crying and hiding under their favorite blankets.  I tried to be light-hearted to put them at ease.   I  stood,  singing and making jokes while I tried to find a switch on the alarm.  Have I mentioned the decibel level creeping higher by the minute?

I called my dad and screamed into the phone, "Could he please help?"  He came over and joined the cacophony of sound that surrounded us.  We had to yell to hear each other.  Broomsticks banged wall units.   Breakers surged on and off.  Fans wobbled.    Ladders clanged underfoot.  The dog ran back outside to find peace.

Finally, we discovered the trick to stopping the vicious assault on our senses; one small button at the back of the house.  We closed the windows.  We put away the brooms and ladders.  We stopped the fans. Blankets returned to beds.  The house became still again, for a few moments.  Ian fell asleep on my shoulder in record time.  Abi giggled.  I breathed it in deeply.  Ben threw his arm up and remarked, "Yea, all the sounds are gone, now we can hear!"

But let all who take refuge in you be glad;
       let them ever sing for joy.
       Spread your protection over them,
       that those who love your name may rejoice in you.

                                           Psalm 5:11

The loudness of life points to need of a refuge, a shelter.  Some days present that assault on our senses, on our faith, on our outlook.  We need that place of safety  where all we hear is the certainty of His guidence.   We need the noise to leave, so we can hear the One ever present amongst all the sound of life..

Ash Wednesday

 Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD;

  O Lord, hear my voice.
       Let your ears be attentive
       to my cry for mercy.

 If you, O LORD, kept a record of sins,
       O Lord, who could stand?

 But with you there is forgiveness;
       therefore you are feared.

 I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,
       and in his word I put my hope.

  My soul waits for the Lord
       more than watchmen wait for the morning,
       more than watchmen wait for the morning.

 O Israel, put your hope in the LORD,
       for with the LORD is unfailing love
       and with him is full redemption.

  He himself will redeem Israel

       from all their sins.

                              Psalm 130

Today marks the beginning of Lent.  Christians are challenged to follow in an extra measure of ancient discipline in order to find newness, intimacy, or connection with the One who gave his life for us.  Some give up chocolate, meat, make-up or Facebook.  Some commit to take on new or deeper habits of prayer, study, or Christian action.  All this we do, in eager preparation and celebration of resurrection and redemption.

We wear a reminder of or brokenness not as a badge of honor, or a whip of martyrdom, but rather as a mark of humility.  We need that mercy, that forgiveness, that connection to something more, if we will stand in this world.  We say with the Psalmist. "my soul waits for You" more than the stuff I have gained, or even that which I have committed to give up.  He must become the more which we crave.  

Today, we acknowledge our finite lives because we understand we need the Infinite One.  We deny ourselves in a world that champions the concept of more so that we find rest in a world that offers the concept of simplicity.  We begin a walk through the valley, knowing the One who formed the mountains will be our guide.