As I was searching for what to post on the SHINE page this week, I came across an excellent small group activity centered around the surprises that God allows to be part of our lives. (http://www.mymissionfulfilled.com/article.asp?id=2333)
Since reading the activity, I, myself, have been thinking about the surprises in my life and finding myself amazed at just how many awesome people have become part of my life...totally by surprise!
One of those people is the friend who inspired me to write out my detailed list of things that I am thankful for (that I posted on Facebook on Thanksgiving Day). We met on camp staff one summer, mentioned that we should have lunch together sometime, and then proceeded to have lunch together almost every week for two school years. The time that we spent together talking each week was sacred time...and she has become a cherished friend.
Even though distance has separated us and forced us to stop having lunch each week, we still have a special bond that holds us together:
Every time one of us sees a church sign that is especially unique (powerful, quarky, funny, full of terrible theology, etc.), we text the other what we have seen. We usually end up laughing or gasping together, exhanging a brief update on our lives, and then going about our daily or nightly activities.
I am thankful for this bond and friendship.
What about you? Are there people in your life who have taken you by surprise? And what unique bond/activities do you have with them? I have to wonder if anything is more unique than exchanging church sign sitings! :-)
Monday, November 29, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
To Mourn and To Dance
Over the weekend, I had the opportunity to do what I love to do the most in the ministry: plan and lead worship on a retreat. This was my second year helping with this retreat. I was with a youth group from GA, at a camp in TN, and we all stayed together in a lovely mountain cabin that was perfect for forming community and experiencing God's creation. This year's retreat focused on discipleship, and as part of the weekend's discussions we talked about the very difficult reality that discipleship isn't always easy--that it's often met with impossible questions, agonizing struggles, ugly grief, and helpless feelings.
For me, one of the most powerful moments of the weekend was when Hannah, the youth minister, made a connection that I had missed.
On Saturday night, we, as a group, took intentional steps to walk into the painful pool of grief. We spoke our grief (for ourselves and the world) just as God spoke creation into being, realizing that words are powerful and that being heard is a huge part of healing. We laughed. We cried. We sat in a place that we usually run away from. And we trusted that God was there, doing a work that none of us could do or explain.
Afterwards, we had smores together at a bonfire. I enjoyed sitting by the fire, handing out graham crackers, marshmallows, and entire bars of chocolate...and then standing by the fire watching marshmallows do that thing that they do when they burn. As I stood by the fire, underneath the beautiful moon, I watched a dance party unfold on the porch. The kids were having so much fun together, laughing and being kids...and then they all crashed together and watched a movie until time to sleep.
On Sunday morning, as we celebrated Christ the King Sunday (the culimation of the Christian Church year), we read together Ecclesiastes 3. And then Hannah said it:
"This weekend, we have wept together and laughed together; mourned together and danced together."
This weekend, with seamless transitions from worship to play, tears to laughter, activity to sleep, we learned what it meant to be disciples of Christ who live within the community of love that Christ desires to create. We learned that there IS a time for everything and that we ARE blessed even when it feels like we are at the end of our rope.
I cannot think of a better way to spend a weekend than that...and today I feel so very blessed.
For me, one of the most powerful moments of the weekend was when Hannah, the youth minister, made a connection that I had missed.
On Saturday night, we, as a group, took intentional steps to walk into the painful pool of grief. We spoke our grief (for ourselves and the world) just as God spoke creation into being, realizing that words are powerful and that being heard is a huge part of healing. We laughed. We cried. We sat in a place that we usually run away from. And we trusted that God was there, doing a work that none of us could do or explain.
Afterwards, we had smores together at a bonfire. I enjoyed sitting by the fire, handing out graham crackers, marshmallows, and entire bars of chocolate...and then standing by the fire watching marshmallows do that thing that they do when they burn. As I stood by the fire, underneath the beautiful moon, I watched a dance party unfold on the porch. The kids were having so much fun together, laughing and being kids...and then they all crashed together and watched a movie until time to sleep.
On Sunday morning, as we celebrated Christ the King Sunday (the culimation of the Christian Church year), we read together Ecclesiastes 3. And then Hannah said it:
"This weekend, we have wept together and laughed together; mourned together and danced together."
This weekend, with seamless transitions from worship to play, tears to laughter, activity to sleep, we learned what it meant to be disciples of Christ who live within the community of love that Christ desires to create. We learned that there IS a time for everything and that we ARE blessed even when it feels like we are at the end of our rope.
I cannot think of a better way to spend a weekend than that...and today I feel so very blessed.
Always
I recently received an e-mail said: "Say Thank You to the Baptist Women Who Have Touched Your Life."
So...Thank you, Mandy, Christina, Ruby, Mom, Laura, Anna, Lindsay, Rebecca, SC WMU Staff, WMU NC Staff, Antioch Baptist Church choir members, Camp Mundo Vista friends, FBC Erwin women and youth, SC Acteens Leaders, and anyone else who might be reading this note. Chances are good that if you're reading this, then you have touched my life in some way.
And...thank you, Kay...
Four years ago last Thursday, I was at your memorial service, singing "There's a Stirring," remembering your life and celebrating the impact that you made on countless people. I was but one of many.
I remember the first time we met--how my dad pushed for me to meet you, this woman in ministry that would be good to talk to--but how I put off the meeting for far too long. I remember meeting you at your church, crawling into your extremely messy car, going to eat Mexican food, and you getting huevos rancheros--which I thought looked disgusting!
I remember how encouraging you were--how affirming. How you listened so intently and remained a non-anxious presence even in the midst of chaos.
I remember your smile--and your laughter. I remember your beautiful voice. I remember how you supported those of us you loved and gave unselfishly to enrich our lives.
I wish you'd told us you were sick--that your heart was too large and that you needed help cooking and cleaning and doing the daily tasks of survival. But I guess that wasn't you--asking for help--or intruding on anyone else's life. And I guess it WAS you to have an enlarged heart.
You rescued me once when my car broke down. You took me to Wal-mart (that you hated) and drove me all the way home. You accepted me for me and gave me and my band a place to lead worship on the second Sunday of every month. You came to our 30-hour-famine lock-in and supported us with your money and time. You showed me that ministers can be human and that we don't have to have it all together. You taught me to sit in silence, hands open in prayer, and to see God as Creator of Love and Light and Time...
In fact, that's what you were doing the last time I saw you--sitting with your hands open, receiving God's spirit as the band sang--a look of peace covering your face...and then you walked down the aisle to go home...and we never saw you again because your enlarged heart stopped beating that night.
You changed my life, Kay, and for as long as I'm alive, your memory and legacy live on.
Thank you.
Thank you for being you...and for encouraging me to be.
And, Kay, I never told you this, but: I love you.
Always.
So...Thank you, Mandy, Christina, Ruby, Mom, Laura, Anna, Lindsay, Rebecca, SC WMU Staff, WMU NC Staff, Antioch Baptist Church choir members, Camp Mundo Vista friends, FBC Erwin women and youth, SC Acteens Leaders, and anyone else who might be reading this note. Chances are good that if you're reading this, then you have touched my life in some way.
And...thank you, Kay...
Four years ago last Thursday, I was at your memorial service, singing "There's a Stirring," remembering your life and celebrating the impact that you made on countless people. I was but one of many.
I remember the first time we met--how my dad pushed for me to meet you, this woman in ministry that would be good to talk to--but how I put off the meeting for far too long. I remember meeting you at your church, crawling into your extremely messy car, going to eat Mexican food, and you getting huevos rancheros--which I thought looked disgusting!
I remember how encouraging you were--how affirming. How you listened so intently and remained a non-anxious presence even in the midst of chaos.
I remember your smile--and your laughter. I remember your beautiful voice. I remember how you supported those of us you loved and gave unselfishly to enrich our lives.
I wish you'd told us you were sick--that your heart was too large and that you needed help cooking and cleaning and doing the daily tasks of survival. But I guess that wasn't you--asking for help--or intruding on anyone else's life. And I guess it WAS you to have an enlarged heart.
You rescued me once when my car broke down. You took me to Wal-mart (that you hated) and drove me all the way home. You accepted me for me and gave me and my band a place to lead worship on the second Sunday of every month. You came to our 30-hour-famine lock-in and supported us with your money and time. You showed me that ministers can be human and that we don't have to have it all together. You taught me to sit in silence, hands open in prayer, and to see God as Creator of Love and Light and Time...
In fact, that's what you were doing the last time I saw you--sitting with your hands open, receiving God's spirit as the band sang--a look of peace covering your face...and then you walked down the aisle to go home...and we never saw you again because your enlarged heart stopped beating that night.
You changed my life, Kay, and for as long as I'm alive, your memory and legacy live on.
Thank you.
Thank you for being you...and for encouraging me to be.
And, Kay, I never told you this, but: I love you.
Always.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
My Favorite Poem
I was not a fan of English class until my junior year of high school...and even then it was less about the subject matter than it was about an awesome teacher.
Even so, a day of my sophomore English class will always be vivid in my mind. Because I was bored, I found myself flipping through my text book. As I flipped, I stumbled upon a poem that captivated me and has remained in the back of my mind ever since. I even copied it into my own book of poems--the place where I keep the stuff that I've written--so I have a permanent record of my 10th grade handwriting as it recorded the poem that would stick with me and influence my writing for the rest of my life--a poem that we didn't even study in class!
And what is this poem? It is called Colours and it is by Yevgeny Yevtushenko:
When your face
appeared over my crumpled life
at first I understood
only the poverty of what I have.
Then its particular light
on woods, on rivers, on the sea,
became my beginning in the coloured world
in which I had not yet had my beginning.
I am so frightened, I am so frightened,
of the unexpected sunrise finishing,
of revelations
and tears and the excitement finishing.
I don't fight it, my love is this fear,
I nourish it who can nourish nothing,
love's slipshod watchman.
Fear hems me in.
I am conscious that these minutes are short
and that the colours in my eyes will vanish
when your face sets.
What about you? What's your favorite poem and what's your story behind it? Please share! I'm in a poetic mood!
Even so, a day of my sophomore English class will always be vivid in my mind. Because I was bored, I found myself flipping through my text book. As I flipped, I stumbled upon a poem that captivated me and has remained in the back of my mind ever since. I even copied it into my own book of poems--the place where I keep the stuff that I've written--so I have a permanent record of my 10th grade handwriting as it recorded the poem that would stick with me and influence my writing for the rest of my life--a poem that we didn't even study in class!
And what is this poem? It is called Colours and it is by Yevgeny Yevtushenko:
When your face
appeared over my crumpled life
at first I understood
only the poverty of what I have.
Then its particular light
on woods, on rivers, on the sea,
became my beginning in the coloured world
in which I had not yet had my beginning.
I am so frightened, I am so frightened,
of the unexpected sunrise finishing,
of revelations
and tears and the excitement finishing.
I don't fight it, my love is this fear,
I nourish it who can nourish nothing,
love's slipshod watchman.
Fear hems me in.
I am conscious that these minutes are short
and that the colours in my eyes will vanish
when your face sets.
What about you? What's your favorite poem and what's your story behind it? Please share! I'm in a poetic mood!
A Weird Thing I Do
I suppose we all have weird things that we like to do. Right?
Well mine is this:
I like to explore church buildings.
Whenever I visit a church for any reason--worship, Sunday School, conference, guest, family reunion, site visit for work, potential employer--I love to walk around the church and look at what's on the walls and see what's in the rooms and imagine everything that goes on inside the walls...and ponder if the space is being properly utilized or if it could be used better and think of all of the ministry possibilities the church holds. I also like to go into the sanctuary and breathe it in--embrace the holy silence and stand amazed at the fact that I am standing in a designated house of worship.
Weird, huh?
What about you?
What is a weird thing that you like to do?
Well mine is this:
I like to explore church buildings.
Whenever I visit a church for any reason--worship, Sunday School, conference, guest, family reunion, site visit for work, potential employer--I love to walk around the church and look at what's on the walls and see what's in the rooms and imagine everything that goes on inside the walls...and ponder if the space is being properly utilized or if it could be used better and think of all of the ministry possibilities the church holds. I also like to go into the sanctuary and breathe it in--embrace the holy silence and stand amazed at the fact that I am standing in a designated house of worship.
Weird, huh?
What about you?
What is a weird thing that you like to do?
Friday, November 5, 2010
An Ironically Beautiful Fiasco
Before I left for Carolina Girls last week, I received this message from a friend:
"hey, i just wanted to say that i'm praying for you and for this weekend--i believe it's going to be amazing :) i think God does something beautiful with the moments that we realize we have no control over whatsoever. i've seen it happen way too many times to not believe it..."
I also posted a status that said:
"Always hoped that a kid would not fall off the stage or pass out during a performance. Now she hopes for safe travels and, well, still no passing out!"
On Saturday night, both of these statuses collided as I was the one who almost passed out.
In the midst of what can only be described as a behind the scenes fiasco, I, who was the lead person in remaining calm and resolving the fiasco, almost passed out. I went from figuring out worship order and set-up to sitting on steps eating cookies and crackers and drinking as many liquids as I could while calling for people to come and speak with me without giving away that I felt as horrible as I did. All the while, girls and their leaders were walking past me going to the bathroom, and I was mustering as much strength as I could to speak and act like everything was perfectly normal.
The service went fine that night. We had beautiful testimonies, messages, scripture, and communion, and we gave over $800 toward missions. After the service, I was able to help perform a four song concert, lead a simple prayer time, and make it back to the hotel and get to bed without ever officially passing out. Everyone did what he/she was supposed to do and the girls and their leaders never knew that behind the scenes everything almost fell apart.
As I reflect upon this experience, I am humbled and amazed to have been surrounded by such wonderful people whose individual desires to be present with and serve God overflowed into their abilities to lead worship that night and create the space for God to speak.
I'm not sure what the girls and their leaders received from that night. I haven't heard anyone say that THAT service made an impact on them more than anything else over the weekend. I have no idea what the eternal significance of the night was. But I do know this:
God really does do something beautiful with the moments that we realize we have no control.
Thanks to a lack of food, drink, and sleep, my body shut down and I lost any control that I thought I might have had over the night. Yet God nudged and moved and worked through the people around me and showed me very clearly just how amazing is the Body of Christ. And, honestly, I can't think of anything much more beautiful than that.
"hey, i just wanted to say that i'm praying for you and for this weekend--i believe it's going to be amazing :) i think God does something beautiful with the moments that we realize we have no control over whatsoever. i've seen it happen way too many times to not believe it..."
I also posted a status that said:
"Always hoped that a kid would not fall off the stage or pass out during a performance. Now she hopes for safe travels and, well, still no passing out!"
On Saturday night, both of these statuses collided as I was the one who almost passed out.
In the midst of what can only be described as a behind the scenes fiasco, I, who was the lead person in remaining calm and resolving the fiasco, almost passed out. I went from figuring out worship order and set-up to sitting on steps eating cookies and crackers and drinking as many liquids as I could while calling for people to come and speak with me without giving away that I felt as horrible as I did. All the while, girls and their leaders were walking past me going to the bathroom, and I was mustering as much strength as I could to speak and act like everything was perfectly normal.
The service went fine that night. We had beautiful testimonies, messages, scripture, and communion, and we gave over $800 toward missions. After the service, I was able to help perform a four song concert, lead a simple prayer time, and make it back to the hotel and get to bed without ever officially passing out. Everyone did what he/she was supposed to do and the girls and their leaders never knew that behind the scenes everything almost fell apart.
As I reflect upon this experience, I am humbled and amazed to have been surrounded by such wonderful people whose individual desires to be present with and serve God overflowed into their abilities to lead worship that night and create the space for God to speak.
I'm not sure what the girls and their leaders received from that night. I haven't heard anyone say that THAT service made an impact on them more than anything else over the weekend. I have no idea what the eternal significance of the night was. But I do know this:
God really does do something beautiful with the moments that we realize we have no control.
Thanks to a lack of food, drink, and sleep, my body shut down and I lost any control that I thought I might have had over the night. Yet God nudged and moved and worked through the people around me and showed me very clearly just how amazing is the Body of Christ. And, honestly, I can't think of anything much more beautiful than that.
Sabbath Days Needed
If we are to love God with heart, soul, mind, and strength
And love our neighbor as ourselves,
Then we must take care of ourselves
Emotionally, spiritually, mentally, and physically.
Failure to do so in any way--
Especially the latter--
Makes it next to impossible to fully love.
And so:
Days off and
Sabbaths are needed
And should be embraced.
Are you embracing yours?
And love our neighbor as ourselves,
Then we must take care of ourselves
Emotionally, spiritually, mentally, and physically.
Failure to do so in any way--
Especially the latter--
Makes it next to impossible to fully love.
And so:
Days off and
Sabbaths are needed
And should be embraced.
Are you embracing yours?
A Reflection Before CG
My desk is cluttered with so many papers that you cannot see its brown surface.
My office is full of dirty dishes from bringing my lunch and eating here every day this week.
My to-do list is still overflowing with tasks that must be done before I leave tomorrow.
My conference on the Five Love Languages is not yet planned.
And I have not selected the video clips that we will play in the general sessions.
Yet...the weekend will be here tomorrow and over 350 girls and their leaders will gather in Wilmington for a weekend packed with activity, fun, missions, and Love.
I had to go to Walmart this morning to get some medicine. My generic Prilosec wasn't working, so I bought the real stuff...and while I was there, I took my blood pressure. It was high.
I imagine that both of these medical ailments are due to stress, and I hate that...because I really do try to be non-anxious. Yet as much as that is my desire, I have let stress get the best of me in this planning...at least inwardly...and the stress is taking its toll...once again.
Boss is teaching a class on stress management tomorrow night. A good friend of mine recently wrote about the importance of slowing down and breathing. Maybe I should go to Boss' class and then take a few moments to breathe :-).
I know the weekend will be fine. I know that I've done everything I can do. Truth be told, I'm really not that worried or concerned because I know that neither will do anything...
And yet...my brow is furrowed. And everything is scattered. And my feet stink because I've worn these brown work shoes so much. And I need to pack. And wash dishes. And get my conference finished...
But the most important I can do--that we can all do--is pray and trust that God will take even our scattered messes and turn them into something more beautiful than we can imagine.
So I think that's what I'll do. Will you join me?
My office is full of dirty dishes from bringing my lunch and eating here every day this week.
My to-do list is still overflowing with tasks that must be done before I leave tomorrow.
My conference on the Five Love Languages is not yet planned.
And I have not selected the video clips that we will play in the general sessions.
Yet...the weekend will be here tomorrow and over 350 girls and their leaders will gather in Wilmington for a weekend packed with activity, fun, missions, and Love.
I had to go to Walmart this morning to get some medicine. My generic Prilosec wasn't working, so I bought the real stuff...and while I was there, I took my blood pressure. It was high.
I imagine that both of these medical ailments are due to stress, and I hate that...because I really do try to be non-anxious. Yet as much as that is my desire, I have let stress get the best of me in this planning...at least inwardly...and the stress is taking its toll...once again.
Boss is teaching a class on stress management tomorrow night. A good friend of mine recently wrote about the importance of slowing down and breathing. Maybe I should go to Boss' class and then take a few moments to breathe :-).
I know the weekend will be fine. I know that I've done everything I can do. Truth be told, I'm really not that worried or concerned because I know that neither will do anything...
And yet...my brow is furrowed. And everything is scattered. And my feet stink because I've worn these brown work shoes so much. And I need to pack. And wash dishes. And get my conference finished...
But the most important I can do--that we can all do--is pray and trust that God will take even our scattered messes and turn them into something more beautiful than we can imagine.
So I think that's what I'll do. Will you join me?
There's A Stirring
One of my favorite songs is "There's A Stirring" by Caedmon's Call. I love that the song can be so simple yet so rich at the same time...and the words resonate with me. I wrote this poem based on the song about ten years ago. And for some reason, it's come to mind today.
There’s a stirring deep within me
a terrifying yet exhilarating numbness and weariness that drain my strength and bring me to my knees
Could it be my time has come when I’ll see my gracious Savior face to face
in a new place, in a new time, in a new ministry
When all is done. Is that His voice I am hearing, “Come away
from what you’ve held dear for so long
My precious one.”
my chosen one
Is He calling me? Is He
really
Calling me? I will rise up
rise up?
And bow down
in complete submission, humility, and surrender
And lay my crown
the symbol of all that I’ve worked to create, of all that I’ve overcome and experienced, of all the ways in which I’ve grown and all of the things that I’ve learned and all of the ways that I’ve loved, of all that I hold dear, of the status and importance that I’ve gained in the eyes of so many and the comfort that lies within
At His wounded feet
that stand ready to move me forward into glory greater than I’ve ever known.
There’s a stirring deep within me
a terrifying yet exhilarating numbness and weariness that drain my strength and bring me to my knees
Could it be my time has come when I’ll see my gracious Savior face to face
in a new place, in a new time, in a new ministry
When all is done. Is that His voice I am hearing, “Come away
from what you’ve held dear for so long
My precious one.”
my chosen one
Is He calling me? Is He
really
Calling me? I will rise up
rise up?
And bow down
in complete submission, humility, and surrender
And lay my crown
the symbol of all that I’ve worked to create, of all that I’ve overcome and experienced, of all the ways in which I’ve grown and all of the things that I’ve learned and all of the ways that I’ve loved, of all that I hold dear, of the status and importance that I’ve gained in the eyes of so many and the comfort that lies within
At His wounded feet
that stand ready to move me forward into glory greater than I’ve ever known.
I Am A Body
A few days ago, my friend Mandy needed a proof-reader so I got the privilege of reading her writing. Because her words reflect something that I've been thinking about as I've considered how we love God with heart, soul, mind, and strength, I want to share them here. There is no way I could express these thoughts better:
There is this tension knot in my shoulder that is my constant companion. For years it has been reliable and predictable. As my schedule becomes chaotic, as unexpected stress creeps up, as I butt up against all the things that are frustratingly out of my control, the knot radiates its pain and beckons me to pay attention to this body I am.
A lack of taking care of this body is nothing new. I’ve ignored doctors' advice to exercise and be more mindful of what I eat. Most recently, while pregnant with my youngest son, I continued to push my body even as my blood pressure spiked and the doctor demanded rest. And really, I knew better. I knew that this was the only chance at a body that I got; I knew my genetic disposition; I knew, I knew, I knew.
Something has finally shifted within me, however, and I am learning to connect my life as a body with my life as a spirit.
While in California for a conference, I participated in a worship service that introduced me to the spiritual practice of movement. Cynthia Winton-Henry (one of the founders of InterPlay) stood up to lead worship and simply radiated a combination of peace and power. She led us to use our bodies in worship by taking a deep breath and letting it out with an audible sigh. She also encouraged us to run our hands over our skin to remind us that we are indeed a body. We swayed and stomped as we sang songs and we even let our hands dance. It was all very California and it did bring out the skeptic in me. But beyond my discomfort at trying something new (and a little silly), it was as if something snapped into place within me.
In these months following my introduction to movement as spiritual practice, I find myself changed. For the first time, I see how connected mind, sprit, and body are. I notice when I’ve been rushing around, physically pushing my limits, and I know that to take ten minutes to breathe, center, or pray with my body will ground me once again. Even as I use the weight equipment at the gym I can feel my spirit growing stronger just as my body grows stronger.
This all may seem funny but I dare you to try it. I dare you to take ten minutes of your busy day to sit in silence; to play beautiful music and let your body sway; to breathe deeply and let it out with a sigh; or to learn a new body prayer. You might be surprised at what happens.
There is this tension knot in my shoulder that is my constant companion. For years it has been reliable and predictable. As my schedule becomes chaotic, as unexpected stress creeps up, as I butt up against all the things that are frustratingly out of my control, the knot radiates its pain and beckons me to pay attention to this body I am.
A lack of taking care of this body is nothing new. I’ve ignored doctors' advice to exercise and be more mindful of what I eat. Most recently, while pregnant with my youngest son, I continued to push my body even as my blood pressure spiked and the doctor demanded rest. And really, I knew better. I knew that this was the only chance at a body that I got; I knew my genetic disposition; I knew, I knew, I knew.
Something has finally shifted within me, however, and I am learning to connect my life as a body with my life as a spirit.
While in California for a conference, I participated in a worship service that introduced me to the spiritual practice of movement. Cynthia Winton-Henry (one of the founders of InterPlay) stood up to lead worship and simply radiated a combination of peace and power. She led us to use our bodies in worship by taking a deep breath and letting it out with an audible sigh. She also encouraged us to run our hands over our skin to remind us that we are indeed a body. We swayed and stomped as we sang songs and we even let our hands dance. It was all very California and it did bring out the skeptic in me. But beyond my discomfort at trying something new (and a little silly), it was as if something snapped into place within me.
In these months following my introduction to movement as spiritual practice, I find myself changed. For the first time, I see how connected mind, sprit, and body are. I notice when I’ve been rushing around, physically pushing my limits, and I know that to take ten minutes to breathe, center, or pray with my body will ground me once again. Even as I use the weight equipment at the gym I can feel my spirit growing stronger just as my body grows stronger.
This all may seem funny but I dare you to try it. I dare you to take ten minutes of your busy day to sit in silence; to play beautiful music and let your body sway; to breathe deeply and let it out with a sigh; or to learn a new body prayer. You might be surprised at what happens.
A Body Prayer
A friend was telling me about a body prayer last night, and I thought that what she said was beautiful. So here is my feeble attempt to describe it in such a way that whoever reads this post will be able to pray the prayer. The movements are simple, but the impact is profound.
Raise your hands above your head, palms up, as if you are singing praise to God.
In so doing, you are opening yourself to receive God's forgiveness and love, regardless of the choices have made in life. You are standing with the knowledge that you are God's beloved, even in the midst of whatever struggles you may be facing. You are making a gesture toward letting go of past guilt, shame, and ickiness so that you can make room for grace, compassion, and joy.
Now, place your hands upon your heart.
In so doing, you are cherishing the fact that what you have just done is good. You are saying, “Let it be so.”
Finally, lower your hands until they are hanging naturally by your side, palms still out.
In so doing, you are solidifying that you have let go of all that hinders you and are ready to live a life filled with appreciation and warmth for the privilege of your journey and for God's faithfulness, love, and fidelity through it all.
Raise your hands above your head, palms up, as if you are singing praise to God.
In so doing, you are opening yourself to receive God's forgiveness and love, regardless of the choices have made in life. You are standing with the knowledge that you are God's beloved, even in the midst of whatever struggles you may be facing. You are making a gesture toward letting go of past guilt, shame, and ickiness so that you can make room for grace, compassion, and joy.
Now, place your hands upon your heart.
In so doing, you are cherishing the fact that what you have just done is good. You are saying, “Let it be so.”
Finally, lower your hands until they are hanging naturally by your side, palms still out.
In so doing, you are solidifying that you have let go of all that hinders you and are ready to live a life filled with appreciation and warmth for the privilege of your journey and for God's faithfulness, love, and fidelity through it all.
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