buffeted by imaginary storms

I sometimes catch a picture of myself as I walk through life.  I see a little girl (sort of like the girl in the cartoon "Nancy", clothed in protective raingear--hat, coat, galoshes, umbrella--pushing valiantly through the most horrible of rain and windstorms.  Head down, trudging forward, one hand clutching the umbrella and the other out in front of her to stave off the ferocious wind, she bravely battles onward, a heroic little figure in the storm.  Thing is--it's sunny and lovely outside.  There is no wind.  There is a nice little breeze, perhaps, but she can't feel it, bundled as she is against the perceived threat.

That's me at times:  all dressed up against the storm in my mind.  That was certainly me getting ready for my meeting at church.  All day, I bravely battened down the hatches, refusing to think about the appointment looming ahead.  As the time approached, I got in the car, gritting my teeth against the ordeal to come. I prayed all the way there, steeling myself for whatever might come.

What came was a picture of a smiling priest ushering me into the office, another smiling priest seated at the table.  I thanked them for allowing me this time to discuss my ministry options.  I sat, and ---nothing! They waited for me to begin!  It wasn't their meeting, it was mine!  I told them my concerns about starting a new ministry and then having to leave for the summer.  Nobody questioned my meaning, they simply listened and helped me to find ways to be what I wanted to be.  I left with the agreement that I would come after church on Sunday to find a convenient time to begin a group training for LEM--Lay Eucharistic Minister.  Another dream was coming to pass--a dream of ministry (I'm reminded once again of that morning in my room, hearing the Lord say that he was going to redeem what was lost.)  What was I so afraid of, anyway?

As I drove home, it finally dawned on me.  This was a reversal of an earlier time, an earlier meeting.  So many years ago, I had been called to another meeting at the same church by a different priest.  I had expected to receive understanding and help; instead, I received an ultimatum--one that made me realize that I couldn't stay.  I had not been fearful for no reason.  I had every reason in the world to distrust.  But once again, God had brought his healing hand to my situation.  I now have another memory of another meeting with priests and concerns, but this one is a memory of loving priests caring about my needs and wishing only the best for me.  I know now that I am truly in God's home for me.

Sometimes we need storms, even if they're only in our mind.  They give us understanding and strengthen us for the coming battles.  I am exhausted from worrying about this one; now that it's past, though, I can bask in God's sunshine and thank him for sunny days and answered prayer.  And being, finally, home.

anger--

I have a medical problem.  I get mad sometimes.  It is not because I want to, but because I have various imbalances that work together to fill me with frustrated anger that wells over into tears.  I control this anger with various medicines, but sometimes something sparks it and off I go, medicine or not.

I don't like being angry.  Angry means out of control.  Anger means fear--I can't stand facing the person that I'm angry with, so I have to fight myself not to run.  Eventually I get there, but sometimes that right moment that we all talk about is past, and when I approach the person, they honestly can't believe that I'm still angry about that.

Anger is really hard for me to deal with.  It keeps me up at night--one of the very few things that does.  It makes me fear retaliation, even when there is no logical reason to do so.  If I feel angry at someone, often it's someone in a position of control, and I worry that confronting that person will result in my losing the freedom to keep on doing what I'm doing.  So I determine that I'm going to tough it out, let it go, and walk on as if nothing has happened.  And that's when the tears come.  Wonderful.  So now I am in a state of helplessness that I can't control, and everyone is wondering what on earth is the matter with me.

Anger is not my friend.  But I will learn to make anger my companion, not my master.  I'm just not quite sure how.  Any suggestions?

rePENT!!

New day, new prayer.  This time the scripture was very short--Jesus saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."

How that takes me back.  Raised in Assemblies, I heard lots of talk about repentance.  Not sure I really had much to repent of back then (I accepted the Lord at the age of five), I was terrified that I would die with sin on my soul and go straight to hell.  I had heard that if you thought bad thoughts, disobeyed your parents, cursed, or did any number of other bad things and then died without repenting, you would go straight to hell.  Therefore, I felt that I was always one small step away from hell.

How different my beliefs are today!  Jesus is my friend, my bridegroom, my covering.  God is my loving father, my comfort in times of trouble.  I understand that I am loved and that I never need fear--Jesus will always keep my free from the punishment that otherwise would have been mine.  

When thinking about the Bible reading today, short as it is, I have to say that it's always better to keep things in context.  When you read the entire section (Matthew 4), you see that this happened right after Jesus came back from the wilderness.  Soon after, he heard that John was in prison, so he went to heaven, stopping on the way so that this prophecy could be fulfilled:

The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light,
And upon those who sat in the region and shadow of death
Light has dawned.”^[f]

That's why he said "repent"--a new light had dawned upon those sitting in the region and shadow of death.  Doesn't that description sound like descriptions of beggars and the lame of the time?  They weren't able to leave--but now light has come into their very darkness.  This light, according to Jesus, was at hand.

And what do we have to do? Repent.  But what does that mean, exactly?  I found this explanation of the Greek.  Basically, it don't mean what we think it means.

There are two greek words used in this context:

1. Metanoeo. This is a compound word. “Meta” means change “noeo” means thinking. 

This word is derived from “nous” which means mind. So, metanoeo means to “change your mind”

2. Metamellamai. This is also a compound word. “Meta” means change
“mellamai” means emotions. It means to have a “change of emotions”.

So in the original Greek, to repent meant to change your mind and change your emotions.  That I can do.

I do believe that the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.  In some mystical sense, it is, in a way, already here.  Where Christ is, to my way of thinking, Heaven is also.  And St Theresa of Avila states that Christ has no body now on earth but ours.  So when we look in our brother's eyes, yes, we can see Christ in him.  

I don't mean that we are living in a new world's heaven where the universe is somehow giving us new freedoms and new beings.  But I do believe that God has given us a special measure of grace that allows us to partake of the Son of God and his grace.  That, to me, is heaven.  

So, yes.  Repent.  Change your thinking. Change your emotions.  Embrace the day that Christ has made and fully--completely--rejoice in it!

prayer in the seat of pain

Well, I thought that I could avoid this.  I thought that if I just let things go, I would be fine. I should have known better.  Pain, sharp and piercing, is breaking my heart.  I have allowed myself to feel, and now I'm paying the price.  I allowed myself to put my trust in someone else, and now that person has slapped-not me--my son.  I would rather he had wounded me.  My son is in the other room, laughing.  He is getting over it.  I am not.

I feel like I am losing my world.  I made the decision to trust in someone, and now I am paying the price for that decision.  Oh God!  I know that these are words out of anger, but you understand anger.  You hear the cry of my heart; you capture every angry, hurt tear that is shed.  You understand the feeling of being betrayed.  Only you.

I don't know where this will end, Lord.  I don't know why this happened or what is going to happen next.  I was so looking forward to this ministry, this opportunity; now it is dust.  I can't imagine continuing the way I am.  But you understand; you know how it's supposed to end.

I put my trust in you.  I cry my hurt and pain unto you.  Hear the cry of my bitterness and hurt, Lord, and turn it into something good.  I don't know how, but I trust in you.

Amen

The prodigal, the elder son, and the loving father

You've heard it before.  You know the story.  But have you seen it through the filter of the Middle East?

The very idea is ludicrous.  A son wishes his inheritance, having the audacity to go to the father and ask for that inheritance, is absurd.  It is telling the father that you wish him dead.  No son in his right mind would do it.  No father in his right mind would grant it.  Yet in the parable, both did.

That's what parables are all about.  You start of with a premise that is so unthinkable that it's laughable. This gets the audience's attention.  And then you proceed to your lesson.

Throughout, it's clear that this boy is foolish.  He does the unthinkable, is given the impossible, and wastes no time in going to a far-off land and squandering the money.  Notice that the father didn't send him off--he chose the path to take.  The father stays home and the son makes stupid decision after stupid decision.  Soon the money is gone and the son is in desperate straights.  He goes so far as to ask a Gentile for work--absolutely unheard of among the Jews.  The farmer, when asked, says that the only job he has available is caring for pigs.  This wasn't a job offer.  It was a polite way to tell the boy to go away.  The farmer understood very well that the Jews consider pigs unclean.  Offering the boy a job tending unclean animals was giving him an option that it was clear that he couldn't take advantage of.  But he does--another marvel.  More than that, the boy is starving and resorts to eating what even the pigs won't touch.

As the boy is living his miserable life, the parable goes on, he finally comes to his senses.  Ever done that?  Ever get into a mess that's so bad that you forget that there's a different way?  Ask anyone who's been in an abusive relationship--they'll tell you that it gets to be so hopeless that unless a miracle happens and their eyes are opened, they will continue in the relationship until they are literally abused to death.  But then one day, something happens--sometimes something as insignificant as reading the paper and seeing a story that could easily be your story--and you suddenly realize that of course there's a way out.  And you take it. And you're saved.  So it was with this young man.  Could it be that he saw someone who wore clothing similar to that worn by his father's servants?  Could it be that he looked at the slop that he was eating and realized that this would never happen in his home?  Whatever the cause, he came back to himself and realized that a servant in his father's house lived better than this.  Having realized that, he then makes the decision to go back and ask forgiveness.  He knows, none better, that he has committed an unpardonable offense against his father and expects nothing but to be treated as a servant.  But he hopes that his father will do at least that much for him.

He starts on the road home.  Maybe he is willing to take whatever consequences lie ahead; maybe he isn't thinking clearly.  But the father sees him from far off.  Obviously, this means that the father has been looking for him.  This is not coincidence.  More, then father throws pride and self respect aside and runs to the son.  This is important, for it's essential that the father reach the son before the community is aware of what's going on.  The father has been treated by the son as if he were dead, and the community in turn now sees the son as dead.  If the son dared show his face again, thought would become deed.  To avoid that, the father sets custom and dignity aside and sprints to the son's side.  He calls for a robe (remember Christ is our covering?), the family rings, and sandals to be brought.  He then calls for the fatted calf to be slaughtered so that a celebration can begin, for he who was dead is now alive again!

When the elder son--the good son--smells the cooking, he very reasonably wants to know what's going on.  He goes to the father, and the father explains.  This makes the son furious.  He has continued to tend the land while the son squanders his money on prostitutes (how did he know that?), and now his brother is to be celebrated while he, the good son, receives nothing?  He makes it clear that it's unfair that he hasn't received so much as a kid so that he could celebrate with his friends.

You know, we're used to looking down our collective nose at the elder brother, but I agree with him in this.  At first glance, it's totally unfair.  He has remained faithful while little Skeezix goes away, lives it up, blows Daddy's money, and then comes back.  What happens now?  I'm not surprised that the father's actions seem crazy and biased to the elder son.

But the father doesn't chide. He simply asks the older son to celebrate with him--what was lost is found, he who was dead is now alive again.

We all are the elder son.  We see others receive gifts while we have none (or none that we choose to think about at that moment), and it makes us mad.  But we are also the prodigal.  We wander away and live our own lives until that moment when we realize that life without our Father God is a life devoid of value.  In those two, we see ourselves.  In the father, though, we see the love of Christ and the mercy of God the Father.  He has ransomed us from death--just as the father did the son by putting on the family robes--and he asks us to celebrate His Son in the gifts of life--the gifts of the Eucharist.  Bless his holy name!

patience--a dying virtue thanks to the internet

I was (and am) confused and sad.  My son is upset because of something that happened in a mentoring relationship--something that might be partly his fault but not fully--and I have promised not to interfere. Not to go into details, he forgot about an appointment and his mentor cut off the relationship.  I'm not sure why this happened, but I've promised not to interfere, and that's so hard.

Today I had a 4th day meeting, and I came to the coffee shop early, then waited 20 minutes after the meeting was to start, then left.  I left a voice mail with one of the people I was supposed to meet with, and so far it hasn't been returned.  So basically, the same thing happened to me that happened to my son's mentor.  I wouldn't dream of canceling my relationship with my group.  I had an appointment last week and couldn't make it (I did let them know at the meeting), and so I assume that they simply forgot to let me know.  They have been meeting for a long time, and I just recently joined them; it's not a big deal.  I was able to play around with my new Kindle, so that was actually a good thing.

Why is it that we as a nation are so impatient?  When I was a girl, we knew how to wait.  We had to, after all.  If we wanted to make a call, we had to wait until we were home and could use the phone.  If we wanted to mail our friends a letter, we had to wait till the mail was received, the response written, the new letter sent, and the carrier dropped the return mail to the house.  If we wanted to reheat a meal, we actually had to reheat it and wait.  All this has changed, and we have changed with it.  We now can make a call whenever we want, and so we get impatient if we are driving and the law forbids us to use the phone.  We leave voice mail and get testy if that call isn't answered within the hour.  We email our friends or im them on Facebook and consider them angry at us or no longer a friend if the email or IM isn't answered immediately.  We can nuke a meal on the microwave in 2 minutes, more or less.  So why wouldn't we be impatient?

But some things can't be rushed.  Some things have to be thought through and deliberated.  For example, everyone gets their feelings hurt from time to time, and it's very healing to write a letter and blow off steam.  But the easy availability of email and IM takes away the ability to write the letter, look it over the next hour or day, and then think better of it because we've cooled down.  I wonder how many friendships have been damaged or broken beyond repair because of an outburst that was sent without the appropriate "cool down" time?

The saying goes that all things come to him who waits.  That might be true, but less and less of us are waiting to find out.  If it doesn't come immediately, we give up and go to something else.  And that something can even be something as fast as waiting for an app or a movie to download.

God, in this ever-more-rapidly-moving world that we live in, patience is harder and harder to come by.  I pray for those people who have been wounded by others who haven't taken the time to slow down and think.  I pray that hearts that have been broken can be mended.  And I pray for my brothers and sisters to learn to be patient and wait on you.

Chronos and Kairos

Time is funny.  It didn't always exist, and it exists differently depending on where you are.  On Sunday, most of you will be gaining an hour, which means that you will be losing an hour of sleep.  Not me--I live in Arizona, where we don't buy in to such foolishness.  We always stay at the same time.  When I was in Bakersfield, I looked forward to October--standard time--and dreaded March--daylight savings time.

This is chronos.  Time is charted, scheduled, and expected to behave.  It is so dependable  that you can use it to take a pulse, beat music, and be the chart that runs your overscheduled life.

But have you noticed that our understanding of time and experience of time aren't the same?  Remember when you were young?  There was a year between December 1 and Christmas, and yet Christmas was done in 5 minutes.  It took years to finish being grounded, yet your favorite tv show was over almost before it began.  You started reading a good book at 8pm, and it seemed like just a few minutes later you looked at the clock and realized that it was 2am!  Time doesn't behave!

That's because we don't understand time.  That marking of the hours is chronos.  We mark hours and measure our day because we are creatures that love to measure.  God doesn't live in chronos.  God lives in kairos--his own time.  Kairos is time-out-of-time, that special moment that is measured qualitatively, not quantitatively.  We live our lives in both.

We wake up at 8:00 and know that we have to be at church at 10:00.  Chronos.  We begin to pray, and as we do, we enter into a conversation with God that seems to take hours.  You leave prayer certain that you will be late for church, go to the kitchen, look at the clock--it's 8:15.  You've been in kairos.  I

God loves to play, and he does his best playing in kairos.  I've been in a praise team where we had a set time--20 minutes--to play.  Everything was rigidly set in chronos.  Announcements take x minutes, worship x minutes and sermon x minutes, and so on.  We start our set, and the Holy Spirit moves.  We've learned to let it.  We play, praise God, are given words, spend time in prayer, and finish a set that should have run well over time in exactly 20 minutes.  Kairos.

On the other hand, I've seen God play with chronos, too.  One day, I was on the opposite side of town from work and was running late.  I knew that I didn't have enough time to arrive, and I asked God to please give me extra time.  He didn't.  Instead, every light was green, including a light that turned red about 5 seconds before I got there then immediately green again (that's when I knew He was playing).  When I got to the freeway, there was absolutely no traffic--unheard of during rush hour.  I got to work with minutes to spare.

Whether you're in chronos or kairos, you're in God's time.  Take a moment this weekend to relax and enjoy being in God's time--and then try and see how often you end up in kairos!

God's love to you!