A Beautiful Mess

I was walking through the woods this morning, taking in the beauty, when I came upon this tangled-up tree. Something deep inside of me saw its reflection in these branches. 

I stood, and I stared.

Am I really surrounded by beauty?

Or is this just a big mess?

I came out here to be enveloped by God's creation, by His beauty, and for the first time I am seeing that this beauty is very messy.

My stomach rumbles, and my thoughts turn to the Saturday morning ritual that my husband and I have settled into. Banana pancakes (which my husband learned from his mom - yum), good music, picking up around the house, cleaning...

And inevitably there will be a "Jelani, you left your bag next to the coffee table. Can you please put it away? It's driving me nuts."

I imagine what it would be like if I took the same approach out here in the woods...

"Lord, you left an uprooted tree right next to the lovely waterfall. Don't you think you could move it somewhere else? It's rather unsightly..."

"And the evergreens are all mixed together with the deciduous trees, could You put them where they go?"


"Also, You dropped these leaves everywhere...they are all over the path.."

Hmmmm. Maybe I will let God decorate and organize as chooses. :) It seems He is wise enough to know when messy is beautiful!


I wonder where if there are places in my life where I see mess, and He is trying to show me the beauty?

Messy relationships. 

Mismatched moments of grief and fun. 

Faltering attempts at time management.

Tangled-up emotions...

Lord, show me Your beauty in this messy life of mine. Help me to let go of trying "get it right" and enjoy the gifts you've given. 

Even the painful ones. 

I entrust this beautiful mess to You.

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Grief. Joy.

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Today, I grieve.

I grieve so many marriages ripped apart, and my heart along with them.

I grieve what could have been - if my heart had not been so crushed by life at such a young age. Or if I had opened my frightened heart to His healing hands a couple decades sooner. I don't understand why a life that seems easy on the outside could have been so full of suffering on the inside.

I grieve a friend who gave up so many years ago, and I wish I could go back and breathe life into him. Speak to him of truth and Love made flesh that died so we don't have stay in death. I wish I could share the hope I now have. Too late happened too fast. Why didn't I grasp grace sooner so I could give it away?

So I ask myself, in the midst of sorrow deep, can the good news be good to me today? Can it bring me joy today?

I know that the answer is yes...

...Because I know the God who can somehow love the adulterous wife - chase her, woo her, adore her - with no less love than if she had been faithful. Because His Son took all the judgement and retaliation she deserves.

...Because I know that somehow God's glory is being revealed through my story. And though I wish it had been sooner, He has healed my heart in ways I never would have imagined possible. And He will continue. Because Jesus conquered death and He breathes his victory into me when I collapse with defeat. He is making me new. He is pulling out ugliness at its root, and it is a beautiful thing He is doing.

...Because I know that God's grace and love and sovereignty weren't on hold until I grasped them. My God is alive and active regardless of how I feel and what I think. He pursues His beloved creation, with or without me. He doesn't need me. Yet, He includes me anyway when He sees fit. He fills broken vessels with love - so full that it spills out over the top and splashes those around. What a crazy, beautiful miracle.

The same God who walks with me through the darkest valley also leads me to quiet streams, peaceful meadows. Places where flowers grow and I can twirl and laugh and be filled with His joy. He refreshes and restores my life.

The sun could rise and set each day, without fanfare, and it would still be an amazing creation. Yet God takes the opportunity to create a masterpiece in the sky that is just for today. It will never be the same again...He will start all over tomorrow. He made waterfalls that wash my soul, friends who know exactly what I mean and friends who don't understand but love me anyway.

This same God made my quirky husband who often forgets his manners but always loves me radically and brings me breakfast in bed on the tough mornings (which are many) and who daily serves me and daily delights in me. It baffles me how he so often sacrifices for me, and it points me to the cross where Jesus sacrificed for me.

This same God made daffodils. Such silly, unnecessarily frivolity. Yet God knew that it would romance the hearts of those He created.

I don't understand this world, this life. It is far too horrible and far too wonderful to understand. I would have made it all different if it had been up to me. Thankfully, it's not up to me.

I am so blessed to know this God who is not shaken, who cries my tears, who woos my heart, who understands what I do not understand, who's big enough to handle it all, yet draws so close in the midst of each moment.

This is where I find my joy.

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Character Sketches, Volume 4: A Shepherd's Heart

Volume 4 is definitely the hardest to write. One of the toughest parts of leaving Chicago was leaving the one who was shepherding my soul. It all seemed so fun at the time, that I never realized fully what I had until I was 3,000 miles away.

Is it possible to describe what it was like working with Pastor Kevin?

To have meetings while someone was throwing a ball at the wall next to your head. To be constantly on the verge of something incredible.

To have someone there to tell you when it's time to rebuke, when it's time protect, when it's time to press through, and when it's time to let go.

To have someone willing to climb into the car you just crashed and get it unstuck from the other car.

To have someone to call when you just got back from a missions trip, you're sick as a dog, and your apartment just got robbed.

To learn something about computers (or boats), get an SAT word of the day, get a nugget of spiritual wisdom, a little bit of Strongbad, and half of one more sentence and he's out the door...

One of the incredible priveleges I had was spending time with Pastor Kevin and Gillian at their house from time to time (especially when they were mentoring us toward marriage).

There, I got to see a household that is somehow run like a tight ship and cruise ship all at the same time... Spontenaity and routine imperfectly intertwined to create a perfect balance.

As each year of marriage passes, I am all the more grateful that they were willling to trade their pain in for our joy - to go through all the unnecessarily difficult parts of marriage so we didn't have to. (I mean, really, the necessarily difficult parts are enough, aren't they!)

They trained us well, and with each storm we weather, we are so grateful to have such a solid foundation!


We also got to catch so many glimpses of them raising their kids- I loved the brilliant way they taught them how to repent, how to love one another, how to show respect, how to receive love, how to love God - and that they were daring enough to let people see when they made mistakes.


The truth is, it's not really possible to explain what it was like being shepherded by Pastor Kevin & Gillian - At least not on a blog post. You know what will fit on the post, though? Everything Pastor Kevin has done to annoy me...

Regardless of the quality of someone's character, if you work with them full time, it's pretty much a guarantee that you will get annoyed with them at some point. Perhaps every few weeks? Every few months?

Well, over the course of working with Pastor Kevin for 3 years, I got annoyed with him 2 1/2 times. For those of you who aren't too good with statistics, that is less than once per year.

The first time I got annoyed with him was about (drumroll, please......) the size of the file folders in our file cabinet. He wanted legal sized and I wanted letter sized.

The truly ironic part?

Now, I work at an office that does all filing electronically.

The second time I got annoyed with him, I honestly don't remember. (Must've been extremely important.)


The "half" time I was annoyed with him was when the Servant Year staff was meeting for, in my view, an important prayer meeting. It was when our staff was at its largest, and we were all there - except him.

He had accidently double-booked the meeting at the same time as his daughter's ballet concert.

I was irritated for a few minutes, as his "employee", and then I saw it from my pastor's kid perspective (growing up as the child of a pastor adds a truly unique perspective to life). I saw that, sure, he double-booked (most of us have done it at some point), but when it came down to priorities, he picked his daughter.

And that is so beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes. That is a choice that will stay in my heart's memory.


That is what a humanly flawed, God-focused man does.


That reflects the heart of God.

Character Sketches, Volume 1: Daddy's Girl

I can't believe how much time has passed since I wrote the post about my grief over leaving Chicago and promised my readers a series of posts about just a few of the people who impacted me while I was there.

To be honest, writing this stuff HURTS, though in a healing way. But I have avoided that pain for too long. I am now rejoicing in the joy and peace that comes with embracing the difficulties God has for me. So here goes...


It is my hope that by sharing with you the character attributes of a few people who taught me how to walk with God, that you and I both will become more like them.


There were several people in Chicago who mentored me in the faith, not to mention the sages and prayer warriors who provided "pit stops" for me along the way. I wish I had time to speak of everyone who has impacted me deeply in my walk with God, including those who have walked alongside me.

But since I can't really blog for 40 hours a week (oh, how I wish I could!), I have narrowed it down to four people:


-Raquel, who mentored me

-Anja, who was my Bible study leader along with Raquel

-George, who taught me to pray

-Pastor Kevin and his wife, Gillian


Many have spoken into my life, served me, and sought God with me (and on my behalf). But these four people layed down their lives again and again and again and again...

DADDY'S GIRL

It always mysitified me how Anja always had so much love to share. She would always give these great big hugs that would break down every last defense you were holding up. There were several times that I thought I was doing fine, until Anja hugged me. Then, I began to cry.


And I wasn't the only one. She has a hug that says, "You are loved. You are safe. It's okay to go ahead and be you."

So where does she get that? For much of my adult life, I have felt like I barely had enough love to accept myself, be cordial to the people around me, and make it through the day. In fact, there have been long stretches of time when I dreamed of having even that much love.

So how could Anja be so ... full?

I knew it wasn't because she had an easy life. If there is anyone who has walked through more than her fair share of difficulty, it is Anja. Yet here she was - serving, loving, praying and at times, darn near bouncing up and down with joy.

Why?

Because Anja has a heart of worship. I have seen her pour out her affection for God in worship with a look of delight - the look of a Daddy's girl. She knows that she is completely accepted and loved by her Daddy.

When others were too self-conscious or disinterested, she would pour out her affection on God during Sunday morning worship (and that was not the only time she did it - she would also do this alone in her room with her guitar...). She would kneel, lay on her face before God, raise her hands, jump up and down, and generally express her heart to Him.


And because He is faithful and true, He would fill her up.

A heart that is full of God to overflowing. This is my desire. This is what I see in Anja.

Yet I tend to want the fullness and the overflow without the falling on my face before God. Without having to pour out my affections on Him and Him only. Without being willing to be used by Him as He wills (regardless of how I feel).

What I have truly sought after is the effects of a close relationship with God without the effort and humility required to actually draw near to Him.


It's about time I followed Anja's example, don't you think?

Father, I adore you.


I lay my life before you.


How I love you!

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Alabaster Box

Grief shows up in the strangest places.

You expect to find it in the valley. When that mountain top experience is a faint memory and all you can see is what you don't have and what you aren't doing and who you haven't become.

You expect to find it as you toil up the hill, when each step burns and doesn't feel like it's getting you any closer to the top.

But in your moment of joy? What a strange place to find grief!

Grief says, "Remember the last time you felt this warm sense of overflow? Remember the last time you felt this full of hope and vision? Remember the ones you loved that were there with you then? If only they could be here with you now..."

Today the joy and grief are swirling together inside of me... I feel like I have just peeked over the brutal hill I've been climbing and caught a breathtaking view of what's on the other side.

Part of me wants to run down the hill with wild abandon into what God has in store for me.

Part of me wants to go back a few paces on the path and grab the hands of those who are still struggling up the hill and pull them up.

Part of me is longing to be back where I was before I started climbing - happy and safe in the idyllic cabin I left behind, with all of my dear, dear friends.

Part of me wishes they could be here with me to see this incredible view.

At the Good Friday service I attended, I heard a young woman sing a solo - a song by CeCe Winans called "Alabaster Box". Here's the chorus...

And I've come to pour
My praise on Him-like oil
From Mary's alabaster box
Don't be angry if I wash
His feet with my tears
And dry them with my hair

You weren't there-the night He found me
You did not feel what I felt
When He wrapped His loving arms around me
And you don't know the cost
Of the oil in my alabaster box

Something just clicked for me when I heard that song. It had always been clear to me that I had come to Portland because God called me to. So whether or not I had made the right choice was not a question in my mind. I wasn't tempted to go back, because why would I want to be somewhere other than where God called me to be?

Yet I was so disillusioned and disappointed to realize that what I had in Chicago could not be replaced. My relationships there were a blessing too rich to describe. This was not just a different city, a different church, and different people, but a different life.

But it did not occur to me until the moment she was singing that song that everything I gave up when I moved here to Portland was my sacrificial worship to God.

And I truly believe that He is the only one who knows how much that cost me.

Sometimes I feel like Chicago was kind of a tease...that all that I never imagined I could receive was handed to me on a silver platter - and then it was taken away.

Occasionally, when the subject of Chicago comes up, someone will ask me if I miss my family. I always want to cry out, "YES! I miss them desperately."

But then I realize they're probably talking about my parents, and not only do they not know that my parents live in D.C., but they don't even know about my New Life family...and how could I describe it to them? How? If I could just show them the place inside of me that is ripped. If I could show them the pictures in my mind. If they could feel what it was like...

I don't have a "nutshell" response for that, you know? So I'll have to take some time in the next few weeks to tell you about some of the people who have poured themselves out for me - who modeled the characteristics of Christ for me.

For now, all I can think of is a phrase that I heard a lot in college...incarnational ministry. Because Jesus was willing to come down and put skin on and walk among us, eat with us and feel our pain to the point of death, we are also called to lay down our lives for others.

I am rather embarrassed that I didn't jump at the chance to live out what they modeled. That I sat licking my wounds and wishing I could have them back. I feel like God was holding out an offer to me:

"Here, Holly, you can live like them. You don't need them to do this for you. You can experience what it's like for me to touch people through you. Step out. I will do these things through you. It will be okay."


So, here I go, one bold step at a time...


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The Edge, Not the End

As I was reading Pastor Kevin’s blog today, it occurred to me, “I need to be blogging”. I need to write. It helps me process. So, if you read this and get any benefit out of it, that will be icing on the cake.

The quote that really has me thinking comes from John Palmieri, a really great meat-salesman-turned-pastor that I knew in Chicago. He says,

“I'm sure that many more are on the brink...the edge...of throwing in the towel and thinking that there just aren't any more options. My prayer is that churches that feel they are on the edge of closing their doors would realize that the edge doesn't necessarily mean the end...but just maybe the beginning -- an opportunity for something Fresh and New. After being a part of three restarts, two of which I was intimately involved...I've become a firm believer that what looks like the death of a church could very well be the closest to a fresh start then they have ever been before. Oh, God increase our faith - help us to see with your eyes and to have a true Kingdom mentality.”

As I reflect on where our church is, has been, and is headed, reading this triggered something in my mind.

Death and resurrection.

Dying to self.

We all know (and by “we” I mean those of us who have been significantly indoctrinated in the Christian faith) that being a Christian means taking up your cross daily. That in order to allow God to live through us, we have to die to ourselves.

Have you become anesthetized to this terminology like I have? Does the word “die” no longer evoke a visceral, painful image for you?

An incredible man of God at my church said to me once (as his wife was nearing death), “As Christians, we love to talk about heaven, but we don’t want to do what it takes to get there.”

Wow.

When it comes to actual death, are we afraid? I am. I’m not afraid of that moment when I die, but I am afraid of the deterioration process that will probably occur before hand (assuming I don’t die instantly). What scares me is the process of losing my basic abilities to function without help, or even to have coherent thoughts. To endure pain and be humbled by depending on younger people to do things like dress myself and go to the bathroom. I don’t know about you, but this is a sobering thought for me.

But the reward of making it through that, after having given my life to Jesus, is that I will see Him face to face. I will be in a place where there is no pain, only freedom.

To quote a Cross Movement song:

One day I won't cry no more

Can't wait for the day
when people won't die no more
Daddy's won't say “bye” no more; lie no more
In the streets, bullets won't fly no more

Won't feel no pain no more
Won't have to push, pull, won't have to strain no more

Won't have to
walk lame no more
Won't have to play the game no more.

This is what I have to look forward to, and thought of it fills my eyes with tears of joy. What encourages me most today, though, is that Jesus isn’t just coming back for me. He is coming for His bride – the Church.

And I have hope for my local church because it is a part of His Church. Not because of the leadership - the leadership consists of mere humans. Like myself, all they have to offer is what God does through them.

Our only redeeming -- literally-- quality is that we are the bride of Christ. He loves us. He died for us. He rose from the grave, victorious, for us. All to glorify His Name and His Character. He didn’t need to do it. And He certainly didn’t need our help to do it!

So why do we think He needs our help now?

As if by our intellectual wisdom, by our human efforts, we can piece back together what is broken and turn it into a thriving ministry.

I realize today that what I have been in the midst of is a dying church.

Don’t panic, fellow church members! There is redemption at the end. This is not a cynical, hopeless litany of what once was. Keep reading.

The process is humbling and painful. Just like the process of dying to self, it is nowhere near the warm and fuzzy experience we thought Christianity would be like when we listened to “Better is One Day” and “You are My King” (no disrespect to Passion, of course - just harkening back to the days when I thought my newfound passion for God would make life less difficult than it was before I was a “radical follower of Christ”).

We have discovered that we are incapable of paying for everything that was in our budget. We have discovered that we are incapable of producing all the ministries and events we envisioned. We have discovered that we are incapable of deep, reconciled, ministry relationships. And I think we are on the verge of discovering that God is capable.

But first, we have this process we tend to go through…

1. Realization of the true state of reality.

2. Shock, sadness, desperation.

3. Rolling up our sleeves and diving in, determined to save the day. Praying harder, meeting longer, thinking further outside the box, going, going, going, 24/7...

4. Getting tired, and, God forgive us, a bit angry/hurt and cynical.

5. The point of humility: asking others for help.

6. Discouraged and dejected – too burned out to even talk about church issues, we watch the
“others” go through the process above. We hope it will turn out different for them. (The “others” don’t understand why we don’t want to talk about this anymore. They encourage us, and some of us jump back to step #3 for awhile, if we have it in us…)

The people in our church are going through this in waves: First the staff and Council, then those closest to them, then everyone else, in layers.

I think we have to let go.

I think of the difference between the face of someone who just started battling a life-threatening disease, and the face of someone who has one foot in heaven.

Do you know that look?

That peaceful look of acceptance and being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see. Yes, there is pain, yes I am incapable, but I am about to see His face. I have to let go of how I think things ought to be right now in order to embrace what He has for me.

There is no Resurrection without death.

I think sometimes in our personal lives, and also in our church, we try to hang on to what God did for us last week, last year. Sometimes, I’m afraid that if I let go of those things, I will be left empty-handed.

Despite the fact that we have seen God come through again and again, it doesn’t make the dying part easy. We think, if we were just more “spiritual” we could trust Him more and it wouldn’t be so hard. If we had more faith, we wouldn’t be crying out, “Why? Why?”

This makes me think of the verse in Matthew – the one I like to breeze past so I can get to the good part:

From the sixth hour until the ninth hour darkness came over all the land. About
the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sachthani? –
which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

(Wait a minute, you didn’t try to breeze past that part, too, did you? One more time, just to make sure…)

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

The truth is, God has never forsaken us. He let His Son go through that so we wouldn’t have to. But isn’t it interesting that even though Jesus completely trusted His Father and was without sin, He still asked why?

Too bad Job’s friends weren’t around to explain it to Him. They would have shown Him where He went wrong!

So the next question becomes, when do we reach the point of Resurrection? In the historical account of Jesus, about three days. But what about in our church? In our lives?

I don’t have the answer to that one. All I know is…

death comes before Resurrection;

the refining fire produces something extremely valuable;

we can’t hold on to what God did last time (or what we think we can accomplish on our own);

and we can’t skip the “Why?” part.

So, if I can’t fix the problem, and I don’t have the answer, what can I do?

I can fall on my knees and say to God,

Why, God? I don’t understand. Where did it all go wrong? Why can’t we just love each other and serve You together? Why does it have to be so hard?

I can’t do this. But I know that You can. My ideas didn’t work. My efforts failed.

God, bring us Your plan and Your power. We want to be Your church. Do what You want. Use us, if You want. Use someone else if You want. Turn Your church into what You want it to be. Bring us new life, a fresh start, a revival… a Resurrection.

Come, Lord Jesus, come.

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