Opening Song: Slow Me Down
Tomorrow is today in the crazy world I live
Yesterday rings on right now
One eye focused on the future
One eye focused on the past
I’m blinded to this present life I live
Lord slow me down
And help me see clearly
What I need to see the morning I wake up
Lord slow me down
And help me hear the rain fall
Instead of looking for the sun to come up
Lord slow me down
I do not understand what I do in this life, Lord
What I want to do, I don’t do, but what I hate I do
It is no longer you who has control of me
It’s my humanness, it’s Satan’s evil scheme
Oh Lord, I’m running to you
With open arms and a searching soul
Oh Lord, I’ve tried it on my own
I’ve wandered so far from home
With persistence I have run
But now I want to
Slow down, so help me see clearly
What I need to see the morning I wake up
Lord slow me down
And help me hear the rain fall
Instead of looking for the sun to come up
Lord slow me down
Lord slow us down
Scripture Reading: Psalm 27
1 The LORD is my light and my salvation—
whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life—
of whom shall I be afraid?
2 When the wicked advance against me
to devour[a] me,
it is my enemies and my foes
who will stumble and fall.
3 Though an army besiege me,
my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
even then I will be confident.
4 One thing I ask from the LORD,
this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the LORD
and to seek him in his temple.
5 For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent
and set me high upon a rock.
6 Then my head will be exalted
above the enemies who surround me;
at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make music to the LORD.
7 Hear my voice when I call, LORD;
be merciful to me and answer me.
8 My heart says of you, “Seek his face!”
Your face, LORD, I will seek.
9 Do not hide your face from me,
do not turn your servant away in anger;
you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
God my Savior.
10 Though my father and mother forsake me,
the LORD will receive me.
11 Teach me your way, LORD;
lead me in a straight path
because of my oppressors.
12 Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,
for false witnesses rise up against me,
spouting malicious accusations.
13 I remain confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.
14 Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.
Prayer: Hope beyond all human hope,
you promised descendants as numerous as the stars
to old Abraham and barren Sarah.
You promise light and salvation
in the midst of darkness and despair,
and promise redemption to a world that will not listen.
Gather us to yourself in tenderness,
open our ears to listen to your word,
and teach us to live faithfully
as people confident of the fulfillment of your promises.
We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
(--taken from http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/prayers.php?id=119)
Sermon:
Do you know what you were doing on October 5, 2004? I do. I was teaching music at Erwin Elementary School. And a colleague made me angry. She made her lack of planning my emergency and then blamed it on being busy. I wrote a poem that day. Can anyone relate to this?
We're busy.
Life is busy.
Everything is busy.
Busy, busy, busy!
But how hard is it,
Is it that hard?
To communicate,
share,
discuss,
or explain,
Expectations,
needs,
wants,
desires,
and to ask for help
In advance
not on demand,
not making lack of communication
an urgent problem?
We're busy.
Life is busy.
Everything is busy.
Busy, busy, busy!
I guess we should just rename ourselves
Bumblebees.
Last weekend, I had the privilege of leading a women’s retreat at Lake Gaston. Almost all of the women on the retreat stated that they needed to get away from the busyness of life. On Thursday morning, the intern who led the Wake Med Spiritual Care staff devotion spoke about the trap of being overly busy. On Thursday afternoon, I opened When The Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd and read about the dangers of being busy. Yesterday, I read a text message from a friend who wrote that she was trying to slow down because she’d been too busy. I don’t know about you, but I’m sensing a theme.
Busyness is part of today’s culture. In fact, busyness fuels today’s culture. Doing tasks quickly. Staying constantly connected. Desiring instant gratification. Eating fast food. Demanding short checkout lines. Expecting ten minute oil changes…
Busy.
We’re taught that the less time things take, the more things we can do. The more things we can do, the easier it is to avoid the unknown. The more we avoid the unknown, the more secure we feel. The more secure we feel, the more we are afraid of losing that security.
Sue Monk Kidd writes, “What has happened to our ability to dwell in unknowing, to live inside a question and coexist with the tensions of uncertainty? Where is our willingness to incubate pain and let it birth something new? What has happened to patient unfolding, to endurance? These things are what form the ground of waiting. And if you look carefully, you’ll see that they’re also the seedbed of creativity and growth—what allows us to do the daring and to break through to newness. As Thomas Merton observed, “The imagination should be allowed a certain amount of time to browse around.” Creativity flourishes not in certainty but in questions. Growth germinates not in tent dwelling but in upheaval. Yet the seduction is always security rather than venturing, instant knowing rather than deliberate waiting.”
Deliberate waiting. Deliberate stillness. Deliberate retreat from the demands of this world.
Jesus did it. Jesus balanced spending time in public ministry with people with spending time alone with God.
Abram did it. In our Old Testament reading from this morning, we hear God promising Abram that his descendents will be more numerous than the stars in the sky. When God made this promise, Abram had no children. So Abram waited. And a son was later born to Abraham and Sarah…after much waiting.
Today’s Psalmist wrote of the importance of waiting. “Wait for the Lord,” he writes. “Be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”
And the Psalmist in Psalm 46 wrote about the important of waiting as well. In the midst of chaos and wars and things falling apart around him, the Psalmist declares a word from God: “Be still and know that I am God.” Be still. Know.
Deliberate waiting. Deliberate stillness. Deliberate retreat from the demands of this world.
(pause)
A few years ago, I had a friend who was being pulled in too many directions. Each role that she played demanded her full attention and she was feeling incomplete in them all. I wrote:
Yes, one calls me wife,
But wife is not my name.
I love, I support, I walk beside—
But it is not all of who I am.
Yes, two call me mommy,
But mommy is not my name.
I give care, I play games, I tend the house—
But it is not all of who I am.
Yes, some call me teacher,
But teacher is not my name.
I teach, I speak, I educate—
But it is not all of who I am.
And, yes, some call me friend,
But friend is not my name.
I spend time, I listen, I laugh—
But it is not all of who I am.
All parts make the whole:
The sum is who I am.
I am a person, complete in God—
I am who I am.
When God spoke to Moses in the Old Testament, the name that God used for himself was, “I Am.” And no matter how many roles we play—no matter how much we do to fill our time—no matter how busy we stay—we will never be complete without the Great I Am. And one of the only ways to connect with I Am through the noise of this world is in stillness. In silence. In the waiting.
Deliberate waiting. Deliberate stillness. Deliberate retreat from the demands of this world.
Leaving off the radio for part of the morning commute.
Watching the news only once a day instead of staying constantly connected.
Intentionally choosing the longest line in the grocery store.
Leaving work at work as much as you can.
Sitting in silence for a portion of every day.
Turning off your cell phone and computer when you go to bed at night so that if you wake up during the night you will sit with your thoughts instead of running away from them with technology.
Might it be uncomfortable in these moments? Yes. But that’s the point.
(pause)
During this season of Lent—this time of rending the heart—
of getting rid of all that hinders and the sin that so easily binds (Hebrews 12)—
the sins of commission that we readily identify—
lying, gossip, greed, cheating, gluttony, explosive anger—
and the sins of omission that we often overlook—
self-doubt, self-hatred, self-harm, feelings of inadequacy, prejudice, fear, busyness—
may we each commit to combating busyness by deliberately waiting for life and circumstances to unfold.
God is in the waiting.
Embrace God today.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Deliberate Waiting
On October 5, 2004, a colleague made me angry. She made her lack of planning my emergency and then blamed it on being busy. I promptly wrote this poem:
Bumblebee
We're busy.
Life is busy.
Everything is busy.
Busy, busy, busy!
But how hard is it,
Is it that hard?
To communicate,
share,
discuss,
or explain,
Expectations,
needs,
wants,
desires,
and to ask for help
In advance
not on demand,
not making lack of communication
an urgent problem?
We're busy.
Life is busy.
Everything is busy.
Busy, busy, busy!
I guess we should just rename ourselves
Bumblebees.
Over the weekend, almost all of the women on the women’s retreat stated that they needed to get away from the busyness of life. This morning, the intern who led the spiritual care staff devotion spoke about the dangers of being overly busy. This afternoon, I opened When The Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd and read about the dangers of being busy. I’m sensing a theme.
Busyness is part of today’s culture. In fact, busyness fuels today’s culture. Doing tasks quickly. Staying constantly connected. Desiring instant gratification. Eating fast food. The less time things take, the more things we can do. The more things we can do, the easier it is to avoid both the waiting and the unknown.
Busy.
Sue Monk Kidd writes, “What has happened to our ability to dwell in unknowing, to live inside a question and coexist with the tensions of uncertainty? Where is our willingness to incubate pain and let it birth something new? What has happened to patient unfolding, to endurance? These things are what form the ground of waiting. And if you look carefully, you’ll see that they’re also the seedbed of creativity and growth—what allows us to do the daring and to break through to newness. As Thomas Merton observed, “The imagination should be allowed a certain amount of time to browse around.” Creative flourishes not in certainty but in questions. Growth germinates not in tent dwelling but in upheaval. Yet the seduction is always security rather than venturing, instant knowing rather than deliberate waiting.”
Deliberate waiting.
During this season of Lent, may we each commit to combating busyness by deliberately waiting for life and circumstances to unfold.
God is in the waiting. Embrace God today.
Bumblebee
We're busy.
Life is busy.
Everything is busy.
Busy, busy, busy!
But how hard is it,
Is it that hard?
To communicate,
share,
discuss,
or explain,
Expectations,
needs,
wants,
desires,
and to ask for help
In advance
not on demand,
not making lack of communication
an urgent problem?
We're busy.
Life is busy.
Everything is busy.
Busy, busy, busy!
I guess we should just rename ourselves
Bumblebees.
Over the weekend, almost all of the women on the women’s retreat stated that they needed to get away from the busyness of life. This morning, the intern who led the spiritual care staff devotion spoke about the dangers of being overly busy. This afternoon, I opened When The Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd and read about the dangers of being busy. I’m sensing a theme.
Busyness is part of today’s culture. In fact, busyness fuels today’s culture. Doing tasks quickly. Staying constantly connected. Desiring instant gratification. Eating fast food. The less time things take, the more things we can do. The more things we can do, the easier it is to avoid both the waiting and the unknown.
Busy.
Sue Monk Kidd writes, “What has happened to our ability to dwell in unknowing, to live inside a question and coexist with the tensions of uncertainty? Where is our willingness to incubate pain and let it birth something new? What has happened to patient unfolding, to endurance? These things are what form the ground of waiting. And if you look carefully, you’ll see that they’re also the seedbed of creativity and growth—what allows us to do the daring and to break through to newness. As Thomas Merton observed, “The imagination should be allowed a certain amount of time to browse around.” Creative flourishes not in certainty but in questions. Growth germinates not in tent dwelling but in upheaval. Yet the seduction is always security rather than venturing, instant knowing rather than deliberate waiting.”
Deliberate waiting.
During this season of Lent, may we each commit to combating busyness by deliberately waiting for life and circumstances to unfold.
God is in the waiting. Embrace God today.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Butterfly Meditation Gone Awry
Every once in awhile, I attend a meeting, workshop, or worship service that teaches me something I cannot forget. Most recently, I had this experience at a young women’s meeting in my association. The leader, Jen, taught us about Lent and presented the concept of rending our hearts instead of rending our clothes—of tearing away all that is not needed in our lives—of freeing the heart from all that binds. I find this to be a beautiful image.
Another such meeting occurred during college. My friend Sally led our Bible study group through a meditation during which we reflected upon our lives and colored a butterfly. Afterward, she asked us to share our stories with a partner and then had us crumple our partner’s creation. When she asked us to do this, there was a collective gasp. But we did it. And Sally used it as an illustration of what we do to people when we don’t properly listen to them and/or when we break people’s trust.
That butterfly meditation was so powerful to me that I have used it numerous times since Sally introduced it. Each time I’ve used it, it has made a profound impact on the group with whom I’m working. In fact, I believe in its impact so much that I keep around 40 individual packs of crayons and a stash of blank butterflies with my retreat supplies in case I ever need to lead a group activity.
I had something odd happen over the weekend, though.
From the very first activity of the retreat, when retreat participants seriously considered their answers to some very “silly” questions, I knew the group was unique! They liked to laugh. They liked to talk. They liked to think and they thought deeply. So I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me when they absolutely refused to crumple their butterflies. Like Sally, I’m usually met with a gasp and often have one or two people who are hesitant to do as I’ve asked. Eventually, though, everyone has always ended up following my lead.
Not this group!
They stared at me in stubborn refusal for around two minutes. I did everything I could to convince them that I was being serious. I even did a countdown to see if they’d all crumple their butterflies at the same time. Finally, one of the women looked at me and emphatically said, “No. I’m not going to do it. She has entrusted me with her story and I’m not going to damage it.”
At that point, there was nothing left for me to say except, “Exactly. That is my point. You just got it in a different way than I expected! So I hope that you truly do get it—that you truly will refuse to damage someone’s story after she has shared it with you and that you’ll refuse to damage your own story by belittling it in any way.”
That is my hope for you, too, reader, as is it my hope for me. I’ve hoped it since college and I hope it tonight and I hope that you will use this season of Lent to render your hearts and make an effort to honor the persons in your life whose words and actions made a difference.
That being said…Thank you, Jen and Sally. Your lives and words have made a difference in mine.
Another such meeting occurred during college. My friend Sally led our Bible study group through a meditation during which we reflected upon our lives and colored a butterfly. Afterward, she asked us to share our stories with a partner and then had us crumple our partner’s creation. When she asked us to do this, there was a collective gasp. But we did it. And Sally used it as an illustration of what we do to people when we don’t properly listen to them and/or when we break people’s trust.
That butterfly meditation was so powerful to me that I have used it numerous times since Sally introduced it. Each time I’ve used it, it has made a profound impact on the group with whom I’m working. In fact, I believe in its impact so much that I keep around 40 individual packs of crayons and a stash of blank butterflies with my retreat supplies in case I ever need to lead a group activity.
I had something odd happen over the weekend, though.
From the very first activity of the retreat, when retreat participants seriously considered their answers to some very “silly” questions, I knew the group was unique! They liked to laugh. They liked to talk. They liked to think and they thought deeply. So I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me when they absolutely refused to crumple their butterflies. Like Sally, I’m usually met with a gasp and often have one or two people who are hesitant to do as I’ve asked. Eventually, though, everyone has always ended up following my lead.
Not this group!
They stared at me in stubborn refusal for around two minutes. I did everything I could to convince them that I was being serious. I even did a countdown to see if they’d all crumple their butterflies at the same time. Finally, one of the women looked at me and emphatically said, “No. I’m not going to do it. She has entrusted me with her story and I’m not going to damage it.”
At that point, there was nothing left for me to say except, “Exactly. That is my point. You just got it in a different way than I expected! So I hope that you truly do get it—that you truly will refuse to damage someone’s story after she has shared it with you and that you’ll refuse to damage your own story by belittling it in any way.”
That is my hope for you, too, reader, as is it my hope for me. I’ve hoped it since college and I hope it tonight and I hope that you will use this season of Lent to render your hearts and make an effort to honor the persons in your life whose words and actions made a difference.
That being said…Thank you, Jen and Sally. Your lives and words have made a difference in mine.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
So Much To Celebrate
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote my friend Angela and said, “Thank you for sticking with me all these years and choosing not to leave.” She said, “I couldn’t leave. We’re the astronaut and the zookeeper. We have a song.”
When Angela was a little girl, she wanted to be an astronaut. When I was little, I wanted to be a zookeeper. For Angela’s 21st birthday, I wrote her a song entitled, “The Astronaut and The Zookeeper.” To this day, the song is a story of our friendship.
I am grateful for Angela. I am grateful that with as many friends as have come and gone, she has remained constant. Unfortunately, though, I sometimes take that consistency for granted—not just with A but with my other friends and family members whose presence is steady and love is strong.
With as much as I’ve lost and grieved in my life, there is still so much more to celebrate.
So today I celebrate. And I encourage you to do the same—not to send simple Valentines because today is a very secularized day and sending Valentines is what you’re supposed to do—but because you are truly grateful for the people in your life whom love you and who you love in return.
In the retreat booklet that I’m preparing for this weekend, I suggest to participants that they set aside some time for a letter writing worship experience. My hope for you is that you will do the same.
With as much as you’ve lost and grieved in your life, there is still so much more to celebrate.
Celebrate today, my friends. You have much to be grateful for.
----
Letter Writing Worship Experience
As you enter into this time of individual, creative worship, reflect on your life with an attitude of thanksgiving and praise. Let your thoughts and memories run away with you.
Praise God for all that God has done for you, especially for the people whom God has placed in your life.
As you reflect and enter into the mind of God, let your words begin to flow onto the page as psalms of encouragement and healing.
If you worship freely with music, then play soft music in the background. If you worship freely in silence, then sit in holy silence during this time of personal worship.
Take three deep breaths to center yourself, and when you are ready to begin, consider writing notes or letters to:
Someone who has lifted your spirits. Thank him/her.
Someone whom you admire. Let him/her know how special he/she is.
Someone with whom you have had a falling out. Express your emotions. Work through your hurt. Forgive him/her.
Someone to whom you have had to say goodbye. Release all the words you never got to say.
Someone you love. Tell them what they mean to you.
Someone you would like to get to know better. Tell him/her what you see in him/her.
Jesus. Tell him your heart.
Anyone else you cannot get off your mind. Be specific with your thoughts.
If the person to whom you are writing is living, then consider sending him/her your letter. If he/she is not, then keep your letters for yourself or get rid of them if their disposal is a form of healing.
Whatever you do, let your words flow freely and from your heart. And do not feel that your words must stop after your designated time of worship ends.
If needed, use words of scripture for inspiration. Build one another up in Christ. For this, your life, in the presence of God, is your spiritual act of worship.
When Angela was a little girl, she wanted to be an astronaut. When I was little, I wanted to be a zookeeper. For Angela’s 21st birthday, I wrote her a song entitled, “The Astronaut and The Zookeeper.” To this day, the song is a story of our friendship.
I am grateful for Angela. I am grateful that with as many friends as have come and gone, she has remained constant. Unfortunately, though, I sometimes take that consistency for granted—not just with A but with my other friends and family members whose presence is steady and love is strong.
With as much as I’ve lost and grieved in my life, there is still so much more to celebrate.
So today I celebrate. And I encourage you to do the same—not to send simple Valentines because today is a very secularized day and sending Valentines is what you’re supposed to do—but because you are truly grateful for the people in your life whom love you and who you love in return.
In the retreat booklet that I’m preparing for this weekend, I suggest to participants that they set aside some time for a letter writing worship experience. My hope for you is that you will do the same.
With as much as you’ve lost and grieved in your life, there is still so much more to celebrate.
Celebrate today, my friends. You have much to be grateful for.
----
Letter Writing Worship Experience
As you enter into this time of individual, creative worship, reflect on your life with an attitude of thanksgiving and praise. Let your thoughts and memories run away with you.
Praise God for all that God has done for you, especially for the people whom God has placed in your life.
As you reflect and enter into the mind of God, let your words begin to flow onto the page as psalms of encouragement and healing.
If you worship freely with music, then play soft music in the background. If you worship freely in silence, then sit in holy silence during this time of personal worship.
Take three deep breaths to center yourself, and when you are ready to begin, consider writing notes or letters to:
Someone who has lifted your spirits. Thank him/her.
Someone whom you admire. Let him/her know how special he/she is.
Someone with whom you have had a falling out. Express your emotions. Work through your hurt. Forgive him/her.
Someone to whom you have had to say goodbye. Release all the words you never got to say.
Someone you love. Tell them what they mean to you.
Someone you would like to get to know better. Tell him/her what you see in him/her.
Jesus. Tell him your heart.
Anyone else you cannot get off your mind. Be specific with your thoughts.
If the person to whom you are writing is living, then consider sending him/her your letter. If he/she is not, then keep your letters for yourself or get rid of them if their disposal is a form of healing.
Whatever you do, let your words flow freely and from your heart. And do not feel that your words must stop after your designated time of worship ends.
If needed, use words of scripture for inspiration. Build one another up in Christ. For this, your life, in the presence of God, is your spiritual act of worship.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Loving Others, Transforming Self
In 2007, after many years of running, I hit rock bottom and entered into a dark depression. The deep shame that I felt for being myself crept to the surface and consumed me with a pain that I could not deny. In my utter brokenness, pushing through an almost paralyzing fear, I found just enough strength to begin counseling. Counseling changed my life.
Over the past six years, I have learned a new way of being. Through countless hours of hard work and many buckets of prayerful tears, I have begun to live through the lenses of loving-kindness, authenticity, mindfulness, and unconditional friendship with myself. I have also gained a new understanding of compassion. My view of God has opened and expanded, and my belief in humanity has become less rigid and more organic, allowing me to live with a hope and peace that I had never known. I have realized that all of life is connected and that through this connection we are never alone.
Mark 12:28-34 (NIV) says:
One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?” “The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel, Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” “Well said, teacher,” the man replied. “You are right in saying that God is one and there is no other but Him. To love Him with all your heart, and with all your understanding, and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.” When Jesus saw that he had answered wisely, He said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.”
According to Jesus, to be near the kingdom of God is to love God with everything that we are and to love our neighbor as ourselves. As. Ourselves. If we are fully to love others, then we must fully love ourselves. And if we are fully to love ourselves, then we must fully love God.
This Lenten season, my prayer for each of you is that you will allow God to love you and to speak to your spirit by transforming your emotions, spirit, intelligence, and body through the spiritual disciplines. As you look inward and see yourself as you really are, may you not pass harsh judgment on what you see but acknowledge that your reality is much the same as those around you. We are all broken individuals in search of wholeness through God’s redemptive grace. May you catch a glimpse of that wholeness and use it to reach beyond yourself in love.
Peace and joy be yours…
D
-------
This weekend, I'll be leading a women's retreat at Luke Gaston. I’m currently finalizing the retreat curriculum and working on participant booklets, trying to get everything finished before my next on-call on Wednesday. Today, in between meetings at the hospital, I’ve worked on the booklet introduction, and that introduction is what I have shared with you tonight.
Over the past six years, I have learned a new way of being. Through countless hours of hard work and many buckets of prayerful tears, I have begun to live through the lenses of loving-kindness, authenticity, mindfulness, and unconditional friendship with myself. I have also gained a new understanding of compassion. My view of God has opened and expanded, and my belief in humanity has become less rigid and more organic, allowing me to live with a hope and peace that I had never known. I have realized that all of life is connected and that through this connection we are never alone.
Mark 12:28-34 (NIV) says:
One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?” “The most important one,” answered Jesus, “is this: ‘Hear, O Israel, Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” “Well said, teacher,” the man replied. “You are right in saying that God is one and there is no other but Him. To love Him with all your heart, and with all your understanding, and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.” When Jesus saw that he had answered wisely, He said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.”
According to Jesus, to be near the kingdom of God is to love God with everything that we are and to love our neighbor as ourselves. As. Ourselves. If we are fully to love others, then we must fully love ourselves. And if we are fully to love ourselves, then we must fully love God.
This Lenten season, my prayer for each of you is that you will allow God to love you and to speak to your spirit by transforming your emotions, spirit, intelligence, and body through the spiritual disciplines. As you look inward and see yourself as you really are, may you not pass harsh judgment on what you see but acknowledge that your reality is much the same as those around you. We are all broken individuals in search of wholeness through God’s redemptive grace. May you catch a glimpse of that wholeness and use it to reach beyond yourself in love.
Peace and joy be yours…
D
-------
This weekend, I'll be leading a women's retreat at Luke Gaston. I’m currently finalizing the retreat curriculum and working on participant booklets, trying to get everything finished before my next on-call on Wednesday. Today, in between meetings at the hospital, I’ve worked on the booklet introduction, and that introduction is what I have shared with you tonight.
Friday, February 8, 2013
Every Person's Story Is Her Own
Please.
I beg you.
Do not share
someone else’s
story
for her.
Every person’s
story
is her own.
Betraying trust.
Perpetuating rumors.
Muttering gossip.
Sharing “bless his/her heart” thoughts.
Those things
hurt
real people.
Those things
destroy
real lives.
So please.
I beg you.
Do not share
someone else’s story
for her.
Especially if
she did not
share it
with you
on her own.
-------
And one more thought: When the churches and/or other organizations of which we are part begin to care more about paying the bills, upholding a reputation, and/or making persons comfortable and happy instead of following the heart of God and being God’s prophetic voice in this world, then maybe it’s time to move on.
Oh God, when we, your people, hurt others, forgive us. And when we, your people, hurt others in your name, thinking that we understand your Love, acting as if we know who can and cannot serve in your Kingdom, forgive us tenfold. You are so much bigger than our frail human minds. Thank you. And thank you for being a God who sits with us in the brokenness we both cause and feel. Amen.
I beg you.
Do not share
someone else’s
story
for her.
Every person’s
story
is her own.
Betraying trust.
Perpetuating rumors.
Muttering gossip.
Sharing “bless his/her heart” thoughts.
Those things
hurt
real people.
Those things
destroy
real lives.
So please.
I beg you.
Do not share
someone else’s story
for her.
Especially if
she did not
share it
with you
on her own.
-------
And one more thought: When the churches and/or other organizations of which we are part begin to care more about paying the bills, upholding a reputation, and/or making persons comfortable and happy instead of following the heart of God and being God’s prophetic voice in this world, then maybe it’s time to move on.
Oh God, when we, your people, hurt others, forgive us. And when we, your people, hurt others in your name, thinking that we understand your Love, acting as if we know who can and cannot serve in your Kingdom, forgive us tenfold. You are so much bigger than our frail human minds. Thank you. And thank you for being a God who sits with us in the brokenness we both cause and feel. Amen.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Loving That Little Girl
There are some songs that I sing a lot. There are others that don’t get sung so often. Until last week, one of my songs had only been sung twice since its birth in 2007. I think I’ll sing it more often from this point forward, though. Its message seems to resonate with many more people than I realized.
I wrote this song after a friend shared with me a poignant image.
She spoke of herself as a seven-year-old girl, feeling lost and alone, thinking that her babysitter violating her had been her fault. Though she grew into a relatively happy and well-loved woman, there was always part of her that remained that lonely seven-year-old, carrying deep guilt and feeling that something in her had deserved the hurt, that something in her wasn’t good enough. At the age of 30, however, after going to counseling, she found the courage to turn to that little girl, embrace her, tell her that it wasn’t her fault, that she loved her, and allow her the space to heal from wounds that had been stifled into a tiny yet powerful part of self.
We all have parts of ourselves that have been broken. We all have parts of ourselves that we try to leave in the past or that we begrudgingly drag behind us. Whether it be some form of abuse, a deep level of shame, a paralyzing sense of guilt, an entrenched thought of not being good enough, or anything else, we all carry with us a broken "child" that needs to be told that he/she is loved and that they are okay.
When I was in the first grade, my mom slipped down the steps in our house and broke her ankle. She passed out when my dad tried to set the bone and had to be carried to the hospital in an ambulance. For most of my life, I thought that my mom’s broken ankle was my fault because she had gone to get a monogrammed sweater for me. When she told me that she had gone to get other things as well and that she hadn’t blamed me at all, I was able to speak to that sad little first grader who stood at her dresser drawer alone and tried to pick out a matching outfit and tell her that it was okay—that it wasn’t her fault—and I was able to feel a sense of relief.
Today is my niece’s fifth birthday. When I think about her innocence and sheer love of life, I cannot help but celebrate life with her and thank God for the gift that she is. I don’t want her ever to hurt. I don’t want her heart to get broken or her knees to get skinned or her eyes to fill with tears because someone has said something mean to her. Yet I know that those things will happen. Life comes with hurt. But hurt can come with healing when we stop and embrace the broken parts of ourselves and help those around us do the same.
In a few minutes, I will leave the hospital where my niece was born and go to her house to give her a huge hug. I will look her in the eyes and tell her that I love her and pray prayers of protection around her from the deep evils of this world. In so doing, I will also embrace my seven/thirty year friend’s spirit and thank God that healing can always come—that we are never so far away from peace that we can’t cry out, “Hear me. Love me. Hold me. Heal me,” and trust that it will be so.
Thirty and Seven
4/28/07
Excuse me, sir, can you help me
I am looking for a girl
She’s around the age of seven
Her hair in brown curls
She spends a lot of time with grandma
And grandpa at their house
Her mom and dad aren’t around a lot
And I can hear her crying out
Hear me, love me
Hold me, heal me
You see, sir, I’m a teacher
And I am 30 years old
The little girl was in my classroom
But she must have since changed homes
When I taught her she was hurting
Yet I never made the time
To listen to her story
Yet now I know her story’s mine
Hear me, love me
Hold me, heal me
I’ve got to find her, sir, her hand is reaching for my heart
She needs a friend, I can be a friend—life cannot tear her apart
I’ve got to show her—let her know—that she has done nothing wrong
I’ve got to speak the truth to her—to sit and help freedom’s song
She’s crying hear me, love me
Hold me, heal me
I’m crying hear me, love me
Hold me, heal me
We’re crying hear me, love me
Hold me, heal me
Excuse me, sir, can you help me
I am looking for a girl
She’s around the age of seven
Her hair in brown curls
I wrote this song after a friend shared with me a poignant image.
She spoke of herself as a seven-year-old girl, feeling lost and alone, thinking that her babysitter violating her had been her fault. Though she grew into a relatively happy and well-loved woman, there was always part of her that remained that lonely seven-year-old, carrying deep guilt and feeling that something in her had deserved the hurt, that something in her wasn’t good enough. At the age of 30, however, after going to counseling, she found the courage to turn to that little girl, embrace her, tell her that it wasn’t her fault, that she loved her, and allow her the space to heal from wounds that had been stifled into a tiny yet powerful part of self.
We all have parts of ourselves that have been broken. We all have parts of ourselves that we try to leave in the past or that we begrudgingly drag behind us. Whether it be some form of abuse, a deep level of shame, a paralyzing sense of guilt, an entrenched thought of not being good enough, or anything else, we all carry with us a broken "child" that needs to be told that he/she is loved and that they are okay.
When I was in the first grade, my mom slipped down the steps in our house and broke her ankle. She passed out when my dad tried to set the bone and had to be carried to the hospital in an ambulance. For most of my life, I thought that my mom’s broken ankle was my fault because she had gone to get a monogrammed sweater for me. When she told me that she had gone to get other things as well and that she hadn’t blamed me at all, I was able to speak to that sad little first grader who stood at her dresser drawer alone and tried to pick out a matching outfit and tell her that it was okay—that it wasn’t her fault—and I was able to feel a sense of relief.
Today is my niece’s fifth birthday. When I think about her innocence and sheer love of life, I cannot help but celebrate life with her and thank God for the gift that she is. I don’t want her ever to hurt. I don’t want her heart to get broken or her knees to get skinned or her eyes to fill with tears because someone has said something mean to her. Yet I know that those things will happen. Life comes with hurt. But hurt can come with healing when we stop and embrace the broken parts of ourselves and help those around us do the same.
In a few minutes, I will leave the hospital where my niece was born and go to her house to give her a huge hug. I will look her in the eyes and tell her that I love her and pray prayers of protection around her from the deep evils of this world. In so doing, I will also embrace my seven/thirty year friend’s spirit and thank God that healing can always come—that we are never so far away from peace that we can’t cry out, “Hear me. Love me. Hold me. Heal me,” and trust that it will be so.
Thirty and Seven
4/28/07
Excuse me, sir, can you help me
I am looking for a girl
She’s around the age of seven
Her hair in brown curls
She spends a lot of time with grandma
And grandpa at their house
Her mom and dad aren’t around a lot
And I can hear her crying out
Hear me, love me
Hold me, heal me
You see, sir, I’m a teacher
And I am 30 years old
The little girl was in my classroom
But she must have since changed homes
When I taught her she was hurting
Yet I never made the time
To listen to her story
Yet now I know her story’s mine
Hear me, love me
Hold me, heal me
I’ve got to find her, sir, her hand is reaching for my heart
She needs a friend, I can be a friend—life cannot tear her apart
I’ve got to show her—let her know—that she has done nothing wrong
I’ve got to speak the truth to her—to sit and help freedom’s song
She’s crying hear me, love me
Hold me, heal me
I’m crying hear me, love me
Hold me, heal me
We’re crying hear me, love me
Hold me, heal me
Excuse me, sir, can you help me
I am looking for a girl
She’s around the age of seven
Her hair in brown curls
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