Seized By Hope

Life Rises out of Death

Over the weekend Paula Rinehart had many wonderful and stirring things to say to the women gathered to listen to her.  I spent some time this morning going over my notes, wondering what I would choose to post about today.

"Life rises out of death.  As women we tend to die in all the WRONG ways.  We are to die to our own agenda, to what we believe would bring us life."

Powerful words to ponder.

She asked us to consider what deaths in our lives are that are the back to door to life.  That sent my thoughts in two directions, where I have experienced the death of something and where did/do I find "life".

Finding places that have felt like death are not hard for me. Remembering how I sought to find life following those times of death was revealing.

We can all give the churchy answer that "life is found with God, but what we know and what we believe often are very different.  We LIVE our beliefs. 

If life is found in success, then death would propel me to work harder and become successful.

If life is found in leadership, then death would propel me to find something or someone to lead.

If life is found in my family, then death would send me looking to my family to be everything to me.

If life is found in my spouse, then I will spend myself trying to create closeness with them.

If life is found in approval of others, then I will live forever working to hear words of approval.

If life is found in my friends, then I will always have to fell on the inner circle of those I count close.

If life is found in my appearance, then I will work hard to keep myself looking perfect.

If life is found in believing I am a good christian, then I will work hard be whatever my church wants.

If life is found in my ministry, then death will propel me to create or find a new ministry.

As I sat and thought about where I find life I could remember places where all of the above have been places I have run in the past to find life.

None of those things bring life, they only bring the illusion and life and will always lead us once again to feeling the sting of death.  After death has come again and again from trying to find life in these places I believe we begin to lose hope and grow bitter.

Life is found Jesus.  Death is the back door to life with Him. 

Paula told a story about young woman who'd grown up being sexually abused by her grandfather.  After years of abuse she finally left for college determined to leave that horror behind her and start a new life.  At college a friend invited her to a revival.  As she listened to the speaker she could hardly wait to give her life to Jesus.  When the invitation to to do so came she wholeheartedly prayed for Jesus to come into her life.  On the ride home she fell asleep in the car and began to dream.  She dreamed she was once again in her bedroom and her grandfather had come.  She could feel herself giving in to him again when suddenly a door in the corner of the room opened and Jesus was standing on the other side of it.  He called out to her, "Come home, Come home, Come home."  She jumped out of her bed and ran to His arms, safe at last.

Death is the back door to life with Him. 

We were all invited to come home this weekend.

A year ago.....

My friend Ellen sent me an email this morning reminding me of a sweet conversation she and I had about a year ago over cups of hot coffee at the coffee shop up the street from my house.  I was asking her to be on my advisory board for Seized by Hope Ministries, which was at that point a dream carefully unfolding.

I logged into my typepad account and clicked through to see what I was writing about in November of 2008.

I wrote about our leaving our church home for the previous 8 years.  That is a place that has experienced healing, and it is a place that is still tender and painful on days.

I wrote about my kids and the funny things they say and do.  They are still making me laugh.

I wrote about comfort, and my thoughts that perhaps it produce a bible study.  I am currently doing a study on comfort with two wonderful college aged girls and loving their thoughts and what our conversations are including.

I wrote about celebrating femininity and wondered about a gathering for women to celebrate their femininity.  This Fall brought the "pilot" gathering of women for "Red Tent Dinners", once a month gatherings for women to celebrate, share and talk about their lives in meaningful ways.  More of these dinners will be happening locally this Spring, and the possibility for them to happen in other cities is growing as people are expressing interest in hosting them.

I wrote about Seized by Hope Ministries and the dream of what it might happen.  This weekend is the 2nd Seized by Hope Retreat for women.  The ministry is up and running and today their are more dreams for what lies ahead...including the website. 

I wrote about seasons changing.  Change still feels very real and present.

I was surprised as I looked at what was in my heart a year ago, and all the pondering and dreaming that has come into being.

Thank you Ellen for reminding me of where I was a year ago.

It's November and the sweet smell of gratitude is in the air, I will have my windows open today so I can drink up every nuance of it's scent.

Seized by Hope

To be Seized by Hope is to know desperation.

To be Seized by Hope is to name your desperation.

To be Seized by Hope is to know pain and not numb it.

To be Seized by Hope is to name where you are living small and feel the desire for more.

To be Seized by Hope is to know betrayal.

To be Seized by Hope is to feel the betrayal and cry out to God for His life giving presence in the pain.

To be Seized by Hope is to know powerlessness.

To be Seized by Hope is to surrender to the powerlessness and experience glorious rest in the surrender.

To be Seized by Hope is to have felt abandoned.

To be Seized by Hope is to name the impact of the abandonment and open your heart to feel cared for again.

To be Seized by Hope is to live in the moments of each day relinquishing control second by second.

To be Seized by Hope is to live by faith that when you have blown it all so badly that you want to give up and crawl in a hole instead you reach out for a friend.

To be Seized by Hope to feel gratitude when gracious gifts you weren't expecting find their way to you.

To be Seized by Hope is to sit across the table from someone being crushed by their own feelings of desperation and offer them your face and your heart, and lend them some hope.

To be Seized by Hope is to laugh, loudly, often and with others or by yourself, but to laugh.

To be Seized by Hope is to awake unsure of what the day will hold and smile in anticipation.

To be Seized by Hope is to disrupt the status quo.

To be Seized by Hope is to live with risk.

To be Seized by Hope is to live with desire, not small crumbs of it but lavish, extravagant, over the top, expensive, spilling out, unmanaged desire.

To be Seized by Hope is to believe that less is NOT more, more is more.

To be Seized by Hope is to name the glory of what God has laid in your heart and write about on your blog.

I am Seized by Hope.

Mercy and Remembering

Ten years ago I met Judy.  Judy was eclectic, unusual, one of a kind, creative, engaging, mysterious and inspiring.  I remember the first time I saw her in the back of the sanctuary during the college night meeting at our church.  It was our first Sunday and we came to check out the college group after someone mentioned it to us Sunday morning.  Judy was standing in the back of the room.  She had long curly brown hair that swept across her forehead, her face was kind and showed her 60+ years in warm and inviting ways.  She was wearing a "mountain hardware" polar fleece vest, jeans and hiking boots.  Her hands were in the air and her eyes closed as she sang along with the worship band.

She gave me a hug that night, welcomed me to the church and invited me out for coffee that week.  Our friendship began over cups of hot coffee at the local coffee shop near her home, where she was a regular customer.  She invited me to her studio, where she worked as a stained glass artist.  Her stained glass windows were featured in buildings throughout the state.  Her creativity was stunning.

After a few meetings I asked Judy if she would be willing to mentor me.  I remember her laugh and the creases around her eyes and she replied, "Well no, I won't mentor you...but I'll meet with you and we can mentor each other."  I didn't know what to do with that response.  Everything inside me wanted to protest, "No, No, I must have an older woman mentoring me, that's the way it's done."  There was nothing status quo about Judy.

We decided we would do a study on "mercy", having determined that we both lacked it.  (This determination was made independent of our friendship and came from multiple sources in both our lives who'd communicated the lack of mercy they'd experienced with us.)  We searched for some book we could work through and found none.  We opted for studying mercy verses found in scripture.  As we studied together we came to find that mercy goes along with the gift of prophecy/discernment.  This felt like a revelation to me and cast a vision for where my heart needed to grow.

Much of my relationship with Judy was vision casting, in ways I've only come to identify in retrospect. 

Merciful people have tender hearts.

Recently, I was asked a question to which I responded that my heart and soul are tender, something I lived for a long time doubting. 

This morning while straightening my hair and pondering my life, my thoughts made their way back to that recent conversation and my response that my heart and soul are tender...then I recalled Judy and our study on mercy.  I stood in front of the mirror looking at my face and remembering all that God has done in my life in the past ten years, since Judy and I mentored each other.

Remembering is good.

Mercy is valuable.

End of the week....

Well, I haven't written much this week.  S was sick until yesterday, and E developed a "surface skin infection" and now has a rash from the anti-biotics leaving, her home with me.  Needless to say it's been busy at my house.

Tomorrow is Halloween and we are preparing costumes for the party that S and A are attending.  L went to the pumpkin patch with her class yesterday and is ready to decorate a pumpkin after school today.  K is also dressing up for a party with her friends at school.  Everyone at my house enjoys the "dressing up" aspect of Halloween for sure.

This morning A posted this on her face-book...so enjoy.

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

Witness

Who have you witnessed to today?  When was the last time you witnessed to someone?  How is your Christian witness?

I know a group of young people who go downtown weekly to witness.  They take banners and talk about startling things to garner attention. 

When I was in collegee we would take "tracks" with us and go witness to people.  I always hated it.  I found myself constantly aware that I don't want to be stopped by people on the street peddling things...whether it be items for purchasing or words to be listened to.  It bugs me and feels intrusive.  They have no credibility with me, so why would stop and interrupt my day to listen to them?

I read a quote on "witnessing" that I really enjoyed,

"To be a witness does not consist in engaging in propaganda, nor even in stirring people up, but in being a living mystery.  It means to live in such a way that one's life would not make sense if God did not exist."

                                                                                           Cardinal Emmanuel Suhard

This feels inspiring-ly true to me.  It says that your life story and how you have engaged it matter and are the most compelling canvas for the message of the gospel.

As I pondered this quote a face came to my mind, the face of man who is a living mystery, a witness to the existence of God. 

His story is complex and the assault of evil on his life began when he was very small.  His home was marked by a well manicured lawn, a father who left daily for a prestigious job and the outward signs that all was well.  Inside his home was a war zone tainted with alcoholism, neglect, confusion, anxiety and silence.  His bright mind was tormented with too much understanding for a boy his age, and not enough understanding to make sense of the chaos that defined each day.  This nightmare of a childhood also included neighborhood friends who provided a solace from all that was contained within the walls of his home.  The solace of their friendship would turn and be used by evil as the ground for introducing a sexual predator into his life.  A wickedly resourceful man who would intertwine the gift of time and words and life giving involvement with soul ravaging abuse.

Today this man's life is a living, mysterious witness.  He speaks the truth of this story to people from across the world as he sits with them in small groups hearing their stories.  He offers hope that is mysterious and wild.  His life makes no sense.  He should not be a successful businessman, faithful husband, engaging friend, lover of God, and warrior for the hearts of those who have known the heinous impact of abuse.  I cannot imagine this man ever handing anyone a booklet explaining the gospel.  He is a living picture of the gospel, the good news that Jesus came to redeem the assault of evil on our lives and offer us eternal life with Him, life that begins the day we put our trust in Him.

There are others, many others who I could write something similar about, precious brave souls who's lives are a mysterious gift testifying to the goodness of God.  They lead quiet lives, go to work, mow their lawns, take their kids to school, go to dinner with friends, and pay their bills.  

They are living mysteries.

They are Witnesses.

I don't want to be RESCUED

Mark and I were having a conversation this morning about men and what they want.

The topic was stirred by the upcoming men's retreat at our church and the fact that half the number of men are signed up compared with the number of women who attended the women's retreat for the church. So, what do men want from a men's retreat?  We tossed around some ideas and I asked Mark what type of men's retreat he would want to go to.

He remembered really wanting to go to John Eldridge's "Boot Camp" for men when it first started years ago.  His friend was going and Mark had thought how great it would be to go with him.  That took us down the path of how Eldridge became the expert on what men want.  

John's assumption is "that every man needs an adventure to live, a battle to wage, a beauty to rescue".  Mark mentioned this and I responded, "I don't want to be rescued, I want to be loved."  And Mark said, "Look at that, you just turned it on it's side and said something that feels far more true."  I replied that I think there are some women who believe they do want to be rescued.  I don't' know if that is really a very good thing. 

Honestly, I don't want to be rescued, I do want you to come for me.  I do want to know that your love for me is strong enough and deep enough that you will not let me run away or disappear.  I want to know that if I am in trouble you will come, not because I need a rescue but because your love for me would compel you....because our connection is that deep.  I want to be loved, needed, essential, valuable.  I want you to pursue me, love me, enjoy me, connect with me, know me, live with me, laugh with me, dance with me, talk with me, dream with me.  Don't rescue me.

I don't want my husband to return from a men's retreat equipped to rescue me or watching for how and when he can try and manufacture a way to rescue me so he can be "wild at heart".  I do want him to come back from a men's retreat knowing he is wild at heart, and his wild heart is big enough and strong enough to enter the chaos life brings daily.

What does it mean to be masculine?  What makes a real man?  What should a men's retreat accomplish?  I don't know for sure, but I do know that men want something tangible and useful from having given their time to something.  They want to come home with a sense of purpose and a vision for something and a path to pursue towards achieving their goal.  Men are problem-solvers.  They connect with things that are concrete and user friendly.  They connect with one another easily about news, weather and sports.  They are slower to share their hearts and slower to offer vulnerability to one another than women are.  Deep transformational community forms slowly for men, often over years.  A men's retreat needs to offer some hope for the men who attend.  Hope for relationships, Hope for becoming stronger and more loving, Hope for walking with God in the deeper places of their souls, Hope for connecting with those they love in more meaningful ways, Hope for feeling God's smile over them, Hope for understanding more about what it means to me a man.

Being a man must be about more than rescuing women.

Excerpt from a compelling email response to this post.....

" I can tell you that the sway between what is bad about the word “rescue” and what is good about the word “rescue” is often a matter of mood and manipulation in how the words “DON’T RESCUE ME” and “why didn’t you come for me” are offered up to the men in women’s lives… it leaves me feeling crazy and like I don’t get it, can’t get it, don’t belong in this battle"

Unpacking

I walked into our bedroom this morning and noticed Mark's suitcase still mostly packed from our week in Michigan.

The week has flown by, and we hit the ground running for sure when the plane landed on Saturday night.

I need to go unpack what's left in his bag and put it away.

It felt like late yesterday we started unpacking emotionally.

There was more unpacked this morning as we drove home from dropping the kids at school.

Unpacking is messy.  You have to separate what's clean and what's dirty, and what may be worn again.

Unpacking reminds you about the trip were on, where you wore that shirt last, or which shoes hurt your feet as you walked around in them.

Unpacking.

There will be more to unpack this weekend I suspect.

I wish it all came home clean and pressed and ready to wear again.....unfortunately that never is the case, either with the clothes or with my emotions.

Sovereignty

The Sovereignty of God is something that I believe is meant to provide a place of rest of comfort for us.  It tells us that God is over all, nothing is beyond His control, His purposes are not thwarted by things that seemingly rattle us.  He is working always for our good and His glory.

I have heard about the sovereignty of God ever since I was a child.  It usually gets brought up when something difficult has happened and there is a need for explaining or resolving something.  It feels like one of the "face cards" in the deck of what I call "God Cards"...the cards you lay on the table to trump whatever is being said by someone else.

It shuts down curiosity, feelings, grieving, connection and most conversation.  What do you say after someone has pointed out that God is sovereign? 

How can we rest in the truth of God being sovereign and still express the reality of our human experience? 

I think it is a question worth wondering about.

A Lot

Last night I shared something and a friend looked down the table at me and said, "You said a lot".

As I took her words in I thought to myself, "True, and there is so much I am not saying."

Returning from 10 days of listening and entering into people's lives in deep places leaves me holding a lot, the stories I've heard, the miraculous things that happened, the places stirred in my own story, the dreams shared with me.  Returning to my parents being here, K home from college, A's 18th birthday celebration and conversations about the direction Seized by Hope ministries is taking feels like a lot.

I feel full.

I need a bit of time and some quietness to open up some space inside of me again.

I found my mind drifting to a morning we spent in Fussen, Germany this summer.  If I could I would find my way back to this cafe and sit quietly, wrapped up a warm coat and wearing my leather gloves.  I would drink a Cappucino and slowly take small bites of my pastry. 

I suspect Jesus might meet me at this cafe.  I am pretty sure He'd enjoy a Cappucino and some pastry.  I believe His eyes would find the full places in me and offer some space.  I imagine His questions would invite me to feel lovely and peaceful.  I think He would smile across the table at me.