God's Hands

 This is truth. Abundant truth.

I have powerful testimony that proves this simple statement.

We are going back to 2010. I was at possibly the lowest point of my life. Nothing was going right. So much turmoil. So much sadness.

I had been away from church for about 15 years. No more Christadelphian meetings, no praying, nothing. I didn't stop believing in God and yet...I started questioning everything about him. The personal crisis that started in 2009 had crescendoed to a feverish state of mind.

After a year of intense sorrow, the hubby & I started talking about, of all things, going back to church.

No one was more shocked than me.

Now - we love the city of Boston. It is one of our favorite places anywhere and we try to get there several times each year. In early 2010 we planned a mini-break holiday in that great place. Bougie hotel, great meals, lots of walking and people watching.

And a visit to St. Leonard's Church in the North End of the city. We went there every time we went to Boston to light a candle for Heather Smith. She was the daughter of old friends and she perished on Flight 11 on 9/11/01. Despite not being particularly religious during those years we honored Heather and her parents.

So we went to St. Leonard's during our weekend away. I was more curious about this Catholic church than any time in the past given that we were thinking about going back to church. And the Christadelphian faith was definitely not on the list.

Growing up in a non-aesthetic Christian faith I had no familiarity with Saints. I knew nothing about them and certainly never saw any physical representations of them.

St. Leonard's in Boston is a classic 19th century Italianate church. Built entirely by the Italian immigrants living in the North End, it is lavish with coffered ceilings, gold leaf everywhere, and elaborate statuary all around the church. So many saint statues that they stood, literally, shoulder-to-shoulder.

I had never explored them before but this time, March 2010, I felt compelled to walk up to each one. I felt one of those saints calling to me. One of them had something important to tell me, I could feel it in my bones.

So I began walking around the church, stopping in front of each statue and asking - are you the one? I'd wait a minute or so, then move on when I felt nothing.

Until I came to a distinctly unique statue. Tall, wearing armor and holding a pennant***. Like all the others, I paused and asked - are you the one?

The next few moments are burned into my memory. I can see this like it is happening right in front of me at this moment.

I was pushed - literally - to kneel in front of this statue. There is no doubt in my mind that the hand of God gently forced me to the cushioned kneeler. If there wasn't a kneeler, I'm sure I'd have gone prostrate on the floor.

I prayed as I never have in my entire life. And cried - I didn't know a human being could cry that much in one place at one time.

I have no recollection how much time passed. Hubby just let me do what I needed to do. He stayed near me but didn't speak to me. He respected what was happening to me. He was then, and remains today, my steady loving rock.

Eventually I stood back up, dried my messy face, and sat in the church for a good long time. Just sat there - quietly praying some more.

On the ride home from Boston that evening we talked about what happened. What it felt like physically. And emotionally.

I was exhausted in every way possible. Overwhelmed by the experience and reeling from the very clear message. From God himself.

Go back to church my child. You need me. I need you.

Startling to say the least. The following weekend was Easter. And as we were in our driveway on Easter Sunday, prepared to drive an hour to hubby's parents, we clearly heard church bells. We'd never heard them before in the 20+ years we'd live in our home.

Saints. Kneeling. God's voice. Church bells.

You just don't ignore all that. The weekend after Easter we started going back to church. Our plan was to try the "Big 3" in our country town - Lutheran, Catholic, Episcopal. We started with the Catholic Church for 2 reasons: 1) hubby was born Catholic and 2) God told me to go back to church while I was in a Catholic church.

And so our faith journey began. Because God laid his hands on me.

And it's true - I haven't ever been the same since.

Amen.

*** There is an amusing side-story to this saint statue. In my heightened emotional state I saw this statue with the armor and spear as - female. Research immediately after that visit told me it was - Joan of Arc. Now I knew her story but not the details. So I read everything I could find about her. And ultimately selected her as my Patron Saint when I joined the Catholic Church. Fast forward another couple of years and in speaking with one of hubby's Aunts - discovered that the saint statue I knelt before was distinctly male - The Archangel Michael.

I based my conversion to Catholicism, in part, on the misidentification of a saint statue. To this day it makes me smile at the private joke I feel God had for me. I'm not sure I would have responded so viscerally if I'd recognized the statue as St. Michael. Yet upon a revisit some years later it was so obvious the statue is male...abs under the armor, well-defined legs...and that pennant? It was a spear, going thru the heart of a demon at St. Michael's feet.

Just writing all that - makes me laugh.

Abundance

"Happiness can be found in the darkest of places. All you need to do is turn on the light." 

-Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

Sunrise from the summit of Mt. Washington, NH

Who knew that peace could be found in words from the legendary Harry Potter ( and from my personal favorite in the series, Prisoner of Azbakan).

Last night, just before Mass began, God turned a light on me and within me in a moment of pure poetry.

With the late afternoon sun beginning to set behind me, God shone a light thru the stained glass windows in the front of the church.

A direction from which no light should shine at that time of night. And yet there it was - a beautiful stream of angelic white light.

And a word whispered into my ear - so faint I had to ask for a repeat - "abundance".

Abundance.

In the midst of years of struggles, emotional pain, betrayals, and general life messiness - this single word has transformed me.

It will need time to settle on me fully -  yet in those 3 simple syllables I find myself turning towards that light. Instead of shunning it - I embrace it.

Hubby and I are starting to plan our graceful exit from the challenges of corporate america. Three short years and we will, with God's will, move onto the next phase of our lives.

It is not missed by me that this message from God serves as a reminder of all that has passed - and all that is yet to be.

While I have had a life marked by abuse until my 20s, then health struggles through my 30s & 40s, then the emotional upheaval in my 50s that is tied directly to the abuses of my past.

And here I am, 61 years old, and finally - FINALLY - I have reached that moment when "abundance" defines the happiness and blessings in my life.

Just a few short years ago it could have defined the abundant horrors & nightmares.

Now ... I feel like it's the right time for me to embrace God's message and really focus on the manifest blessings - and only those.

And because it's Sunday you get a twofer - my Sunday Symphony below was the Presentation of the Gifts song at Mass last night.

I fall on my knees to the father of Jesus,
The Lord who has shown us the glory of God.

May he in his love give us strength for our living
The strength of his spirit the glory of God.

May Christ find a dwelling place of faith in our hearts.
May our lives be rooted in love, rooted in love.

Rooted in love - indeed.

Rooted in abundance & blessings.

On Being Christadelphian

As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, I am starting to explore writing about my faith journey. As with any experience it requires context.

There are five overarching areas that I hope to cover:

1. Family Life
2. A Profound Death
3. We All Fall Down
4. I Rise
5. I Fall and Rise Again

As I write that I realize I've just come up with the structure of my journey/book. It will be something that, with God by my side, I can "write into". The more I pray on this the more I'm coming to believe this is the right time for me - to recall some extremely painful experiences, emotional & physical, with the nearness of God. He is certainly closer to me now that he was even 10 years ago. Noting that my faith journey spans nearly 50 years.

I know writing this won't be linear. Which will be helpful because, as I approach anything in section 5, I will need God to tell me when to write what because that is the most painful part of my journey and where I really start to welcome God into my heart.

And so I give you another part of what it meant to be Christadelphian in my formative years.

[Recap from Pt 1] - It (Christadelphian) is a strict faith with unyielding rules and beliefs. Not unlike many others. However, Christadelphians believe in a vengeful God even while believing in a benevolent God who gave us our ultimate savior, Jesus Christ. There is also much hate and bigotry taught in Sunday School. That will become important later. Overall, as I look back on it with decades of distance, I can see how my earliest traumas were a result of this hateful, vengeful faith. My inevitable low self-esteem and sense of unworthiness can be traced, in part, to my activities with and belief in being Christadelphian.

On Being Christadelphian, Pt 2 - A Family of Faith

And so, we were a Christadelphian family. We went to church school & services every Sunday. Attended special talks on Sunday nights. Participated in church events and socials. We were not allowed to join in things like voting in any political election or serving in that capacity. We were forbidden from being police officers and military service was a big no-no. Conscientious Objection was the only appropriate response to a wartime draft. Being unequally yoked, meaning married but practicing 2 different faiths, was strictly forbidden with harsh punishments. 

My father was deeply faithful, once declaring that serving his church was the #1 thing in his life, more important to him than his family. He served in several capacities in our church, including as a leader of church services, public speaker, religious guide and counselor, as well as business and  financial advisor. My mother was more agnostic and went along with my father as all good 1950s housewives did. She did what all Christadelphian women were allowed to do - played the organ, served with all the women in their “womanly duties” as defined by the 1950s and 1960s (meaning cleaning the church building, preparing meals and serving them to hungry Christadelphians, and then cleaning up after them), and lent her considerable vocal prowess (she was a trained Mezzo Soprano opera singer) to Sunday services. As a child and even as an adult Christadelphian I followed my mother’s lead, cooking, cleaning, and ministering as a good little woman. Eventually my brother would lead church services and be a speaker. And so too would my husband. At least for a little while.

Being part of a fringe Christian faith was intimidating as a young child. When you are in school, learning who everyone is, the inevitable question about faith comes up. Until I was 10 years old, I applied my young mind to explaining my faith to any friend who asked what brand of Christianity I observed. I spoke with all the passion and eloquence I could muster to share all the ways in which my faith was better than anyone else’s. You see, Christadelphians also teach that they are the only ones who can inherit the Kingdom of God. And if Christadelphians don’t convert others to our way of thinking, then we ourselves are sinners who will be dealt with on judgement day.

Heavy stuff, especially for a little kid trying so much to fit in. My faith made that extremely difficult to be sure. By the age of 10 I had found a new way of answering the question about my faith – we were Protestants. Period. No more uncomfortable conversations, no more strange looks from my friends and classmates. My parents were extremely displeased to learn this is how I explained my faith. They tried to give me words that a 10-year-old would be able to relate to; I listened and did as I pleased anyway. As I look back, I see this as my first rebellion against the constrictions of a fundamentalist faith.

But I would continue to be an obedient Christadelphian daughter, attending services and events happily (at least as much as I could muster so my parents wouldn't make my life more of a living hell than it already was). I’d like to say I made friends in church, and I suppose I did, to a point. We had nothing in common beyond our church identities. Plus being in a fringe religion it’s not like there are tons of others like you in your town or school. The friends I had at church were only seen at church and church events. My parents took the snobbery of being Christadelphian to an enormous degree, feeling that we were better than all the others in our own ecclesia. They saw us in an elevated status, despite that being 100% against the rules of being Christadelphian. We didn’t associate with all those people outside of church. A position which severely hindered my ability to make friends with a common ground.

Up Next: On Being Christadelphian, Pt 3 - Rebellion

I pray to God to keep me safe during this journey, to be with me with every word I type, to guide my voice to conform to his will for me. In Jesus' name, Amen.

Spotlight

As I continue to consider putting pen to paper about my faith journey I am butting up against some seriously dark places along the way.

The journey I took started with one of the most disastrous moments in my adult life, taking me on an unwelcome whirlwind into deep forests of fear and pain.

And on the other side of all that - came God. Shining thru like a beacon, like the supreme being he always was and always will be.

Indeed. God's grace was always there as we are never alone. And his grace brings with it illumination into the dimmest reaches of our lives.

God's spotlight makes it impossible for the pain to hide in the shadows. And even better - that spotlight banishes the pain.

All you have to do it bend your knees - and ask.

I know I used this image last week. Hit me just as hard today as it did a week ago.

Carry Me

Just a simple yet, conversely, complicated disclosure about the state of my world at this moment.

It should say "...broke, again..."

I'm not praying anywhere near as much as I should. Truth is - how many of us do?

Conflict is so darn difficult to handle. Especially when it's within a family, coming up against an entrenched, holier-than-thou, thinks they are better than everyone else person. Who has been enabled in this behavior since they joined the family nearly 40 years ago. Excuses made at every turn. Because we don't want to "upset XXX". 

This burden has been upon me all these years. Well - not me alone but I've been the brunt of the bullying for about this long. God knows - truly - God knows how hard I've tried and for how long to make this thing at least be civil.

Jesus tells us:

Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus said to him, I say not to you, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven. - Matthew 18:21-22

I can do that math. 490 times, if we are to take Jesus literally. While that is tempting I believe he meant as many times as it takes. Forgive over and over again. 

And there is this "gem":

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. - Matthew 5:38-40

Oh boy. Talk about a tall order. As usual, Jesus sets us the impossible task and charges us to make it - possible.

What to do when the person you try to forgive - without the apology given - who you try to approach in good faith over and over...just refuses to bend. No quarter given by this person. His way or the highway. Or rather - his way. Period.

What to do when you run out of cheeks, shirts, and coats? Start with the underwear?

I make light of this but there is so much roiling under the surface of this. 40 years of rip currents that threaten with every encounter to take me under until I stop breathing.

Sounds dramatic.

It is.

And my prayers should ramp up; I should shout them until I'm hoarse. Not because God isn't listening but because I need to hear them too.

When you pray - do you pause at all to listen to what God might have to say? I know I don't. Not always anyway. And how are we going to take in what God wants for us if we don't listen to him. His voice, his actions, those magical signs that glimmer throughout our lives if we'd only top & look/listen. I need to take a pause when this bubbles over...because it tears me apart every single time. Leaves me nearly irrational with anger & pain.

We are at the end of our tether with this family drama. After nearly 40 years and countless side-steps, bending & breaking, the last straw has been placed on the camel's back.

And my heart is breaking at what this means, long-term, for me and my darling husband. It will divide us, permanently, from a core family member. Oh, we will keep up the pretense (after all this time we are very good at it) until hubby's parents are no longer with us. A time which is, sadly, getting shorter everyday.

In truth there isn't much there at this point. What little there is - is for my in-laws' sake. And when all is said and done...there will be nothing left to hold on to. I've had to recover from such losses before - the loss that is like a death...without the death - and it nearly killed me before.

Sometimes I think...I've been broken for so long, what's one more heartbreak - right? I am healing from all that brokenness before. I really don't know that I have it in me to fully heal from this one.

And so, once again, I bow down to God and ask him to hold me up until I can stand on my own. To take control of this and show me the right way to proceed. How to pick myself up, put on that smile again - but this time for it to be real, not a facade adopted to get thru the days.

Honestly, friends, sometimes I do wonder what is the point of all of this? I'm supposed to find the gifts in all this; the things that make me a better person in spite of or because of - all this.

And I do try to find them. Squeeze out the positive from so much negativity. Be the better person; strive to learn and grow thru the pain. To give myself grace for the struggle. To give others grace for whatever their struggles are.

And...damn. Just...damn.

Kneel

In a world that feels endlessly demanding...whether it's your job, family, or whatever burdens you place on yourself...

How often do you give it all up and just...pray.

Indeed. We have the simplest way to hand over the stress & demands; the easiest possible action to let God take over for us.

Kneel.

Or if you are like me - bow. :-) 

My world has gotten a bit heavy of late. I can feel myself starting to sag under the weight of responsibilities, discoveries, and the burdens I can never seem to set down for too long.

I need to remember God is only a few words away.

Or one single bodily action will bring him up front & center for us.

Kneel.

The prayer will come.

Renewal

As a Lector at my church it is my greatest privilege to read the Word of God to my fellow parishioners. I get to share with them the messages that God sent to us thru men inspired of him. My turn is up tonite and I couldn't be more excited to read words written by St. Paul.

The Pauline writings are a full prescription for our lives following Jesus. For the earliest Christians, St. Paul's writings gave them a guidebook of behavior and while he wrote many letters to those fledgling churches, his message was "simple".

Live as Christ told us to, as close to him as possible. Achieving perfection...as if!

This can only be achieved thru prayer and a throwing away of what we have learned in our own societies.

Timeless writings by the great St. Paul. Like this, which I will be proclaiming at around 5:15pm EST tonite:

Brothers and sisters:
I declare and testify in the Lord
that you must no longer live as the Gentiles do,
in the futility of their minds;
that is not how you learned Christ,
assuming that you have heard of him and were taught in him,
as truth is in Jesus,
that you should put away the old self of your former way of life,
corrupted through deceitful desires,
and be renewed in the spirit of your minds,
and put on the new self,
created in God's way in righteousness and holiness of truth.

-letter of st. paul to the ephesians 4:17-24

Indeed. "...renewed in the spirit of your minds..." What an achievement it would be if this was easy, if we could be in that spirit 24/7.

Which is what God wants for us. To do this brings us closer to God.

And what a challenge it is, in these times and likely in the times when St. Paul wrote his letter. 

Throw off our old selves, renew our spirits in God thru Jesus Christ. 

It is, in my mind, what being Christian is all about. The daily work to keep ourselves of the world and not in the world. A challenge that surfaces with every sunrise.

Stubborn

This past week has been - a struggle to get thru.

I haven't felt like myself. Deep within I feel disoriented and there is a disquieting edge to my thoughts and my attitude. I've been clipped and easily irritated. I am definitely wearing my grumpy-pants 24/7.

And I can't figure out why. Maybe that's the point - another hint from God that it's not up to me to figure it out, it's up to me to give it to him so I can release the burden of needing to know.

And if you know me in real life - I have to know all the things. All of them, all the time. As I've written so many times, the human ego can be a real challenge to getting thru life.

Some of what I'm grappling with is memories that are the very worst kind. They are torturous and painful beyond words. I don't want to think about "them" and yet...they infiltrate my mind at the least opportune moments.

And I reflect here that perhaps that's what God wants. Catch us off-guard so we can train our "muscles" to turn to him in these times of greatest need.

To be honest, I'm not sure I'm OK with that. And it's likely my version of something much simpler.

God wants good for us; good for us all the time. He wants us to love him; there is no way for us to love God in a way that comes close to his love for us. Yet he wants us to persist in prayer to him so he can show us his love.

Funny thing about human ego - I don't love them, I'm struggling with the practice of forgiveness, and if I'm being really honest - I don't want anything for them that is good. (Which, I am fully aware, goes against what I said just one paragraph above. God wants good for all of us...so who am I to not want good for them? I don't wish them ill (or at least I stopped doing that a few years ago). I just don't wish them good, either.) But I am 100% OK with moving on without them. I just didn't think it would be as chronic & debilitating as it has been.

And that last has been my struggle for a very long time. Living my life without them has been the hardest thing I've ever done. Or ever tried to do, more like. It gets easier with time - and prayer - and yet there are weeks, like this last one, that surely try my soul.

Is this some kind of spiritual attack? Likely. And so it is, as always, I continue to train those muscles to turn to God in all things.

But goodness I have a stubborn ego, don't I?

Hustle

In this our lives today - we hustle. We drive fast. We rush thru errands. We are pressured in our jobs to do more, faster, with less help or resources. Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to push a river because it's not moving fast enough.

In the midst of the fury that is life it comes to me every so often...is this what God wants for us? A search of the Bible, of course, brings up a plethora of suggestions. This one really hit me:

To fulfill our purpose by the power of God's Spirit, and to live by faith and grow - romans 15:13 & philippians 2:13

Hmmm...

Why is it that we hustle anyway? I know society puts pressure on us to do more, be more, do all the things, be all the things. At the end of an average work day I get home barely able to crawl into my house. The energy I feel compelled to expend leaves me on an empty tank, with only a few hours to refill that tank before it starts all over again.

So why do I do it? Why do we do it? Sure, society puts this pressure on us. And it is our choice to accept the challenge.

What is our motivation? Certainly God doesn't want us to crawl into our homes at the end of day. What am I missing during the day? What are we missing?

It comes to me like a bolt of lightning - prayer. Pray during the day - seems so simple. Yet in the hustle of the day we have to carve out the time to do it. 

I'm not talking about finding a place to kneel in supplication and humility. I'm talking about taking a moment to quietly sit and say a small prayer. Thanking God for the blessing of:

• a good job
• health
• friends
• intelligence
• knowledge
• safety

The list could go on and on. A simple "God, thank you for my health today" and you've given a moment over to God. It's all he wants from us and for us.

To be closer to him. To talk with him. To reach out to him. Even in a moment that requires a "God, please help me get thru this" and he will be there.

He is always there. In every moment. Even when we don't acknowledge him or are barely aware of him.

How lovely it would be to stop the hustle - and take a mere minute to turn to God. Maybe after that the hustle won't feel so enervating, the hustle won't actually feel like - hustle.

Big...Huge

It is a blah day today. Outside and inside.

Outside it is hot, humid, and stormy. A grey day of clouds, rain, and an exceptional quiet. Broken only by the birdsong and claps of thunder.

Inside it is cool and comfortable, at least physically. Mentally I am a jumble of thoughts and worries. Which is something I struggle with daily - letting go of worries. Big or small, I chew over my worries like a dog with a bone.

Not a happy image for a human.

a.w. tozer

Indeed we do. Or as St. John said in his first book in the New Testament:

"The Lord is greater than whatever is ahead of you and will always guide you through"

...aka God is bigger than the giants we face.

And how true that is. God created it all - heavens, earth, and all in between. And when we consider just the "heavens" - well that encompasses a vast amount...doesn't it.

We all need a reminder from time to time that what we think of a worries - are mere trifles to God. And turning them over to him...makes them trifles to us.

The challenge, at least for me, is to not take them back. I am notorious for doing that - praying, giving it all up to God...then sneaking back under cover of my own darkness and hauling it all back like the baggage it is.

Overburdened. Overpacked. And I am over - it all.

It is time to let go - well & truly. To let God be the greater good that he is - he has the strongest shoulders in the universe (and beyond) and he can handle whatever puny things seem like Goliaths to me.

To think I can handle it - is laughable on any level. I can't, only God can. My ego doesn't allow me to let go at all. Because I continue to believe I have it in me to tough it out; that on some level I deserve this disquiet & discomfort.

God - doesn't want us to feel like this. His love for us is unconditional and nothing could persuade him to allow us to suffer unjustly. (And yes, that is the elephant in every Christian room - just why does a loving God allow us to suffer at all. I have attempted to cover this subject only twice - here.)

Returning to suffering and God. There is no easy answer of course. Perhaps we aren't supposed to find the answer. Perhaps we should do what we know to be true - surrender to God thru prayer. Let him sort out the details. Let him carry the burden.

Oddly it is all, the most omnipotent being of all time, wants from us. The greatest gift to all mankind - prayer & peace.

Personal Revival

Is God waiting for me?

Seems like a potentially arrogant question. After all, why would the most omnipotent being in all of any history - wait for me to do anything? Isn't it me who should be waiting on God - in prayer, petition, thanksgiving, and hope?

That is all true. And yet I feel that sometimes God does wait for me, for us.

• To forgive even when it feels impossible.
• Embrace a season of quiet with God.
• Let go of what I think my journey thru this life should look like.
• Allow God into my broken places.

A season of quiet with God - what does that look like? How long is that? If we listen for God enough, look for him in all that we see and do, inevitably he will tell us what that season is. 

Thru prayer we will see & hear God. Keeping our eyes wide open all the time - to see & hear him in everything, the sweetest birdsong, the prettiest flower, the hideous weed, the icky insect - is to find God present in our lives every second of the day.

Not every minute. Every single second. Even the words I am writing come straight from God. Because those 4 points above constitute a prayer I have been saying as often as possible, as the gift they are - given to me from a surprising source.

Indeed, that same source gifted me with another prayer, just for me. 

A Personal Revival from God. To acknowledge God's presence, make a plan for healing with only his guidance, and persevere in this plan in the quiet spaces with God.

When you open your mind to all of God's possibilities - even the ones that seem so improbable as to be nearly unbelievable - he delivers gift upon gift.

So go to that quiet place with God - and open your mind & heart to listen to his messages. For he indeed...waiting for us.

Finding Your David

We all know the Old Testament story of David & Goliath. Now let's be clear on what was going on here.

The Israelites were in a fight for their territory and lives (when have they NOT been in the midst of this) against an invasion of Philistines. The Philistines were recognized as the most superior warrior force - large men, trained in battle, hardcore and all-in for violence and conquest. As the Prophet Samuel tells us:

A champion named Goliath, who was from Gath, came out of the Philistine camp. His height was six cubits and a span. He had a bronze helmet on his head and wore a coat of scale armor of bronze weighing five thousand shekels; on his legs he wore bronze greaves, and a bronze javelin was slung on his back. His spear shaft was like a weaver’s rod, and its iron point weighed six hundred shekels.

Let's break this down a bit:

• Height - 9' 9"
• Weight of his armor - 125 lbs.
• Iron point of spear - 15 lbs.

We are talking about an overwhelmingly enormous individual in every possible way; a great warrior with battle-hardened experience. Written & archaeological evidence suggest the average height of a Jewish man during these times was 5' 6", with 5' 9" considered tall. 

Goliath is 4 FEET taller than the tallest man around him. David was a young boy, not yet at his full height. A humble shepherd. There is no way David should have defeated such a, literally, massive enemy. One who taunted & teased the Israelites. But David was wildly courageous - he came forward to defeat Goliath when his older brothers and all his neighbors stood by, quaking in fear.

As the Philistine moved closer to attack him, David ran quickly toward the battle line to meet him. Reaching into his bag and taking out a stone, he slung it and struck the Philistine on the forehead. The stone sank into his forehead, and he fell facedown on the ground. So David triumphed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone; without a sword in his hand he struck down the Philistine and killed him. David ran and stood over him. He took hold of the Philistine’s sword and drew it from the sheath. After he killed him, he cut off his head with the sword.

Hmmm - I never said David was timid.

Neither should we be timid. For the Prophet Samuel records David's words just before he killed the seemingly unkillable giant in front of him:

You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will deliver you into my hands, and I’ll strike you down and cut off your head. This very day I will give the carcasses of the Philistine army to the birds and the wild animals, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s, and he will give all of you into our hands.

God - has our backs every minute of every day. He doesn't leave us - not ever. We may feel alone and this is because we have turned away from God. 

When life dishes out its many travails, challenges, and outsized opponents we should bring to mind David's words. For God will always be there for us to call upon - a thousand times a day, a hundred times a minute - if that's what it takes to save us from the giants we face. Dig deep to find the courage that God has given to each of us - like David's, enough to slay any giant (physical or metaphorical) that threatens the peace that God wants for us.

After all - David faced down an epic giant and became a King. 

It is no less than what God wants for us - to become Kings in our own time. Strong, courageous, definitely not timid. 

Grace

grace = courteous goodwill

courteous = polite, respectful, or considerate in manner

goodwill = friendly, helpful, or cooperative feelings or attitude

Do we give grace to the people around us? Are we all the things listed above? Maybe not every single day but - some of them?

Are we understanding when a friend lashes out? Do we give a nanosecond's thought to what is happening in their life, that they would react that way? Or do we just stalk off, harumphing and generally thinking ill of the person.

God's grace is defined as God's unmerited kindness, favor, and mercy. It is a free gift from God; definitely an undeserved one.

Do you know that God's grace is given before we even ask for it? He sees our hearts, he knows our minds, and he certainly knows what we need before we are even aware of some kind of need at all. Or as St. Paul tells us in a few verses prior to the one quoted above:

Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account. Hebrews 4:13

Grace - is given. It can't be earned - not even by the friend or co-worker who annoys us. It is in our gift to give it to them at our own volition.

God's grace can't be earned either. Yet we know that it is already awarded to us - the ultimate reward in life.

In this Lenten season, let us remember we have the ability to give grace to those who offend or annoy or even hurt us. Because no matter how far we wander, no matter how lost we are in our lives, God's grace is there - all we have to do is ask.

On Vulnerability & Warfare

 

Spiritual warfare. We're gonna get vulnerable here.

Ever feel like each day is some kind of battle? From the time your eyes open until you can finally close them again, and surrender to the hopeful peace of sleep - you are fighting against ... something. At the blissful end of such a day you don't know what you were fighting, you can't recall how it all started, and you just want it to disappear into the mist of a dreamless rest.

I've had more than a bevy of these days over the past few years. And in my own reflections, meditations, and prayers I've determined that at the bedrock of these kinds of days is warfare.

Yes - warfare. For my spirit. Sometimes it feels like a battle for my very soul. 

Satan steps into the breach of these kinds of moments and tries to wrest control away from me. He sneaks in like colorless smoke and captures me in his web of lies and condemnations.

Sometimes he comes in the form of gossip in the news. Sometimes it is some kind of sadistic abuser masquerading as a comforter who distracts me from my faith. Other times it is self-doubt - the worst kind, born of abuse from my parents and read back to me in the darkest of dark thoughts.

No matter how he comes, Satan is a slick, oily salesman who wends his way into my life and works his own deviant magic on me to call me away from what I know to be true and right.

Righteous even.

There are two words in this that shed a bright light onto how this happens:

• Surrender
• Control

These 2 words effectively cancel each other out, don't they.

Leaving no room for an effective plan. No room for God. And therein lies the problem.

Satan cancels out God. If you let him. And those days I've had of spiritual warfare, Satan sometimes comes close to being the victor.

He came extremely close just once - many years ago. I brought in the help of several people to get him away from me. It took an enormous leap of - faith - to overcome his hold over me.

And nowadays when I feel Satan closing in on me - I turn to God as swiftly as I feel the hot breath on my face. 

That breath is nasty. Just nasty.

I am so thankful for my faith, for God's healing & enduring love, for God's forgiveness always - especially on those spiritual warfare days. When Satan's temptation gets under my skin and tries to make a home there.

Satan only has one home and that is behind me. With God in front of me leading me, as ever, to safety & protection.

It is a daily act of faith to give control of the day to God. On some days, I have to give control to God every few minutes.

And when I do that - humble myself and tell God I truly need his protection & love - he is steadfast as always. And my anxiety and fear fades away.

New Year | New. Year.

New Year.

New. Year.

See the difference? Yes, punctuation matters.

And in this case - I mean both.

New Year - another year is about to come to a close and we turn the page of a calendar to another number (one, hopefully, we remember when we write the date). 

New. Year. - a simple "dot" can change this from the turn of a calendar page to the turning over of a leaf in our lives.

Turn the calendar page and turn a leaf. It's not too much for us. 

Because God has us - always.

I will start the New Year in hope & gratitude. I will start my New. Year. with a renewed focus on this blog, and spreading God's word as far as I can find ways to do so.

Amen.

Echoes

With the celebration of Christ's birth just one week away, I wanted to focus this week on Holy Mary's courageous "yes" to the Angel Gabriel. I know, I'm about 9 months late for this but as we have spent the last 4 weeks focusing on the coming birth of Jesus Christ, I thought a throwback to the origins of our Savior would be appropriate.

The first prophecy of The Messiah can be found as far back as Genesis, and throughout Old Testament Prophets like Nathan, Daniel, Isaiah, and Ezekiel. Through the Gospels in the New Testament. This miraculous coming is foretold so many times.

The how of it all is not revealed until the Angel Gabriel appears to a young, unassuming woman named Mary (The Gospel of Luke 1:26-38).

God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a city in Galilee. The angel went to a virgin promised in marriage to a descendant of David named Joseph. The virgin’s name was Mary. 

When the angel entered her home, he greeted her and said, “You are favored by the Lord! The Lord is with you.” 

She was startled by what the angel said and tried to figure out what this greeting meant.
The angel told her, “Don’t be afraid, Mary. You have found favor  with God.
 You will become pregnant, give birth to a son, and name him Jesus. He will be a great man and will be called the Son of the Most High The Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David. Your son will be king of Jacob’s people forever, and his kingdom will never end.”

Mary asked the angel, “How can this be? I’m a virgin.”

The angel answered her, “The Holy Spirit will come to you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore, the holy child developing inside you will be called the Son of God.

Imagine it. You are a (roughly) 17 year old girl from a humble background, engaged to the man you love, and an angel tells you that you are pregnant. And not just pregnant, but with the savior of mankind.

All of this makes Mary's yes so remarkable. As a human being she had every right to say "Thank you but no thank you." As a faithful Jew however, having heard all the prophecies of the coming of the Messiah, her yes was necessary.

In fact, her yes was foretold as often as the coming of The Messiah himself. It's a "built in" element of the stories. 

All of which brings me to this glorious piece of music - Gabriel's Oboe by Ennio Morricone, composed for the 1986 film "The Mission". 

One of the most famous songs in all of Morricone's film scores, Gabriel's Oboe is a device used for a missionary to call to, and convert, a jungle tribe.

It's long been a favorite piece of music. It's haunting melodies get under my skin and bring me to tears.

This year it appeared in a Pandora station of instrumental holiday music. I didn't think it really belonged there...yet it felt so right. I listened intently and heard the message God was sending to me.

Gabriel ... The Angel Gabriel ... The message to Mary.

Listen to those first notes from the oboe. Feminine, lyrical, soothing. The presence of an angel. 

Then it builds, the higher notes expressing something that brings you to the heart. Mary's response. 

Then the notes creep still higher as the heavens rejoice.

The melody repeats once again. Angelic encouragement. A demure yes. Rejoicing.

More rejoicing.

Then the strings take over to amplify the echoes of the heavens as the coming of the Messiah is physically assured.

I've heard this song hundreds of times. Always as the theme song from "The Mission".

Now I don't believe I will hear it as anything but the clarion call of God announcing the coming of his Son, Jesus Christ.