I have a dream...

I have a dream.  The problem is, I'm not quite sure what it is or what it's going to look like.  That might not sound like much of a dream to you, but it is just as real and solid as any other dream.
Fredrick Buechner, a kind of important guy, once said "The place G-d calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet."  That's my dream.  To discover that place, the place of deep gladness and the world's deep hunger.

It seems easy, but it's not.   That place is hard to find.
I want to find the place, I want to know where it is.  That place, the place where my deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet, that place is the place where I will find peace.  If I could find that place on my own, I would do it in a heart beat.  I would talk to people who need talked to (school, family, the Man that I really am quite smitten with) and head to that place, the place where my call is.
But I can't.

A week or so ago a dear friend of mine shared a quote from a devotional with me.  It's about waiting and trusting G-d.  The whole devotional that she sent me was wonderful, but especially these last two paragraphs:


"Well, when you say that you're "waiting", that means you are accepting God's timing and the wisdom of it. You're confessing this: "I'm not fussing. I'm not fuming. I'm not fixing." You're not thinking in the back of your mind, "Oh, I could do a few things to get me out of this situation. I've got some insights. I could say some things. I could get some balls rolling. I could take hold of this if I had to.

Waiting means you're no longer relying on what you can figure out or even understand. It is deliberately relying on God through prayer and flat-out trust. "This is way beyond me, Lord. I'm leaving it in Your hands. I know I don't have to understand in order to trust You. I'm waiting on You for my salvation; You have to get me out of this narrow place." --James McDonald

That's where I am right now.  I'm in that place were there is nothing more I can do.  Except wait and trust, even though I don't understand.  Am I good at it?  No way!  I'm awful at waiting, I'm awful at trusting, but right now, I don't have a choice.  There is nothing more that I can do, and perhaps, that is right where G-d wants me right now.  I don't understand it, I don't even like it most days, but for now, I will trust.

Weathering the Storms of Life

Those who know me best, know that I've been in a bit of a stormy time lately. Nothing overly bad per se has happened directly to me (the world around me is constantly full of tragedy), just a lot of unrest.  I'm sure my parents would testify to that...they probably got more phone calls from me in the last week or so than they get in two to three weeks when things are going well.
I've moved to more a place of peace now.  Not everything is solved and there is still a lot of unknowns (nothing has really changed as far as what I know or don't know about what comes), but I'm more at peace about what I don't know.  I'm going to plant some tulips on Saturday (I have to buy tulip bulbs at market before I can plant them).
As I was going through some old files other night, looking for something, I stumbled across this prayer that I had marked as coming from Thomas a Kempis.  In my original note, I'd notes that I had no idea who he was or what he'd done except that he was an important dead guy (he had to be important, he was in a textbook).  For those of you who care, he was a monk who lived a long time ago (died in the 1400's).
Anywho, I wanted to share this prayer with all of you.  Right now, it's giving me a lot of comfort.

"Lord, I know that you sometimes permit

trouble and temptation to come to me.

I cannot escape them

but, driven by my need,

I must come to you for help

that you may work this out for my good.

O G-d, I feel uneasy and depressed

because of this present trouble.

I feel trapped on every side,

yet I know I have come to this hour,

so that I may learn that you alone

can free me from this predicament.

Lord, deliver me,

for what can I do without you,

helpless as I am?

Lord give me patience in all my troubles.

Help me, and I will not be afraid,

no matter how discouraged I may be.

Let me bear this trouble patiently

until the storm has passed

and my heart is calm again.

Your power, Lord, can take this trouble from me,

as you have done many times before.

No matter how hard it is for me,

it is easy for you, O Lord."

Listening Prayer (Prayer Request)

When I was still at Central, about every two weeks or so we had an "event" where we would meet to engage in listening prayer for each other. It probably happened more often in less formal settings, but I was only there on Saturdays.  On the off weeks we'd meet and receive a teaching.
In listening prayer, we'd circle up around someone, often laying hands on them, and ask G-d for a word for them. One of the neatest things about praying in this way is that we didn't know subjectively what the person needed, sometimes we didn't even know who the person was.  We didn't ask for prayer requests, just that G-d would show us what the person in the center needed.  People would get words or pictures or song lyrics, anything really.  To the person getting it directly from G-d, it often felt random and out of place, but when shared with the person in the center, it usually was exactly what they needed to hear - not always, sometimes it was just "bad pizza", so there was always a process of discernment involved for the person that the "message" was for (the person in the center).
I liked it not only because I received a lot of powerful words from G-d, and got to be part of speaking truth into other people's lives, but because when we prayed in this way, we could be reasonably sure that what others were hearing from G-d on our behalf was not a creation of our own mind.

I'm human.  I know what I want to hear from G-d. It's just how it is.  Even when I try to listen well to G-d, I always am stuck in the place trying to sort out if what I heard from G-d was actually from G-d or if it was a creation of my very powerful imagination trying to keep me happy.  Maybe you know what this is like too, since I'm guessing that you are indeed human and know what you want too.

Right now I'm in a place where I could really use some people to engage in listening prayer on my behalf.  I know what I want to hear from G-d.  I know what I think I've heard from G-d, but I don't know if what I think I've heard is really from G-d, or if it's my subconscious trying to keep me happy.  Can you listen to G-d on my behalf?  Listen hard and intentionally and share with me what he tells you, even if it seems completely random to you?
I'm purposely not saying what I'm trying to figure out/what area of my life I really need to hear from G-d in right now, because if I do, then the temptation is there for you to try and figure out what I want to hear or what you think is best for me to hear, even if you don't mean to.  I want to avoid that.  So please, pray for me and let me know what G-d tells you.  It would seriously mean a ton to me. In the meantime, I'll keep trying to discern if what I'm hearing is from G-d, "bad pizza" or my own imagination. 


If you don't want to post what you hear in the comments, let me know and I'll tell you other ways to reach me.  Or just use one of the other ways that you already know. :)

Answered Prayer

A while back I wrote about how seemingly insignificant actions can have profound impacts on people, beyond what you can easily tell.  Today someone acted in a seemingly insignificant way and became an answer to prayer.
I was having a rough day.  I was having a go round with "sunburn syndrome", a condition in which it feels like my entire body is sunburnt, even though it is not.   I don't know why it happens to me, but it does and I hate it. ( It's very uncomfortable.  It's also sometimes called allodynia, for those of you who are curious).  I'd spend most the day on pain meds and benadryl (pain meds to take the edge off, benadryl to try and sleep it off), and was generally not feeling great.  The thought of going to the freezer to get something out for supper sound unimaginably painful.  I was wishing I could just order pizza or take out or something; anything that involved me not having to cook or open the freezer (cold is more painful that hot when I have sunburn syndrome). I was kinda down on myself and not even sure if I was even going to eat.
I left the house to deliver some mail to a neighbor that had erroneously been delivered to me.  As I was walking back I saw one of the neighborhood kiddos.  She waved at me and I waved back.  I followed her into the backyard and he mother invited me in for dinner. They were having the international students over to get to know them better.  She said right away that there was no pressure with the food (she wasn't expecting me and feeding me is just hard in general), but I was welcome to come visit.  I agreed and came in.  Sitting with other people is no more painful than sitting alone.  We went through the food and found some rice and fruit that I could eat, so I ate and I visited and played with the kiddos.  Afterwards, while I was helping clean up I told my friend she had been an answer to prayer.  She hadn't even known it.
G-d is good like that.
Now it's time to brave the shower and go to bed.
Good night all!

Who are you?

Tonight I preached from Luke 9. I'm getting more and more comfortable preaching.  Today it was Pillar church. When I preach at Pillar, we set a podium up and the congregation sits on one half the sanctuary.  Usually that is fine.  Today though, they all sat about 6 rows back.  I wasn't okay with that. So I just picked my stuff up and moved up a few rows, and preached between two pews.  I told the congregation what I was doing and why.  Also, during prayer time no one would talk, so I called the children by name and asked them what they were thankful for.  After they shared, I told the adults that the kids could do it, so what was their problem?  The adults shared after that. :)
I have an audio copy of the CD.  If you want a copy, let me know and I'll make you a copy.  I'm not going to make a video to post here because my internet has been so sketchy lately. (currently I'm sitting on my front stoop to type/post this)
Anyhow, without further ado, here is my manuscript from tonight.  I kinda sorted followed it...not really, especially towards the end. I just let the spirit talk. Also, I've included the benediction I used tonight.

Who are you?

Luke 9:18-21

Once, when Jesus was praying in private and his disciples were with him, he asked them, “Who do the crowds say I am?”

They replied, “Some say John the Baptist; others say Elijah; and still others say that one of the prophets of long ago has come back to life.”

“But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?”

Peter answered, “The Christ of G-d.”

Jesus strictly warned them not to tell this to anyone.

Who are you?  Not just your name, but you.  Who are you? Sure, you have a name.  Maybe your name even means something, but most of us are given names because our parents liked the name.   But your name is not necessarily who you are.  It is what you are called.  If I started calling you Bob or Jane, you would not cease to be who you are now.  You’d just be called something different.   After all, a rose by any other name is still a rose. So, who are you?

Somewhere we all have an answer to that question.  In fact, most of us probably have multiple answers to that question, depending on who is asking it.  Right now, I am your preacher.  Later on I will be a pair of listening ears for a friend or a roommate.  In a couple days I will be a student.  In a few months I will be a flower girl.  Throughout it all I remain someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, someone’s friend, and many more things.  So who are you?

One time I was at a family reunion with part of my mother’s side of the family. I grew up with my dad’s side of the family so I knew all of them, but my mom’s side of the family was a new thing for me.  They’d all been names on pages without faces.  At the reunion I was asked who I was.  The question stumped me.  I knew who I was.  I was Joy, a student at Central College studying German and Psychology.  But that wasn’t what family members were asking me.  My name tag told them my name.   What they were asking was who I was in relationship to them, which branch of the family I fit into.  Finally, I figured out what they were asking and grabbed a family member who knew the family better than I did to make the tie for me.  By the end of the day I knew who I was to these people.  I was so-and-so’s daughter, so-and-so’s granddaughter, so-and-so’s great granddaughter... That day people could have told me that I was anyone in the family I probably would have believed them.  That day it didn’t matter who I said I was, but who people said I was.

Jesus’ disciples are presented with a similar question on that mountain in the region of Caeserea Philippi when Jesus asked them who the crowds thought he was.  Compared to the question that was going to come, that question was easy.  Dutifully the disciples parroted back what they had heard the crowds say.  The word on the street was that Jesus was the John the Baptist or Elijah or a prophet of long ago who had come back to life.   But then Jesus changed the game a little bit.  No longer was he interested in hearing the disciples parrot back what the crowds said.  He turned to them and said “But what about you?  Who do you say I am?”   This was no longer the same question.  No longer could they parrot back what they heard on the street.  Now they had to answer for themselves.  Bold Peter turned to Jesus and confidently answered that Jesus was the Christ of G-d.   The Gospel according to Matthew elaborates on this and records Peter’s answer as being that Jesus was the Messiah, the Son of the Living G-d.

This answer, a mere 10 English words in Matthew and only 4 English words in Mark and Luke, is such a powerful confession of who Jesus was and is, that it was recorded in three of the four Gospels.   The Messiah, the Son of the Living G-d, the Christ – these were the words that were going to make all the difference for both the disciples and for us today.  The Gospel according to Matthew records Jesus responding to Simon Peter by changing his name to Peter and declaring that he would be the rock upon which Christ would build His church.     Simon Peter was no longer simply Simon Peter the ex-fisherman who had become a disciple of this radical Jewish rabbi from Nazareth named Jesus, but he was Peter, the rock upon with the whole Church was going to be built.   Who Peter declared Jesus to be made a difference and who we declare Jesus to be makes a difference too.

If we declare Jesus to be a wise teacher, we are left with a collection of wise teachings and advice on how to live our lives.  If we declare Jesus to be a prophet of G-d, we can attest more authority to his wise teachings and advice.  If he were a prophet we could even accept his new teachings such as the one about turning the other cheek instead of taking an eye for an eye.  But we wouldn’t have much more than that.  But if we declare him to be the Son of the Living G-d, the Messiah, then everything changes for us.

If we echo Peter’s declaration it no longer matters who we say we are.  It no longer matters who other people say we are.  It only matters who Jesus says we are.  As He did with his disciple Simon Peter he will also do with us.  2 Corinthians 5:17 assures us that if anyone is in Christ, he or she is a new creation, the old is gone and the new has come. 

The old going is a beautiful thing. When the old goes, the identities that we have created for ourselves and the names we have taken for ourselves or been given by the world go with them.  I have had the honor of walking alongside several young people who have struggled with eating disorders and self-esteem issues.  They have identities for themselves.  They have named themselves.  They call themselves worthless, fat, useless, ugly, unworthy of love, lonely, afraid, guilty, and the list could go on. That’s the old talking.  When they finally step into the new, their name, their very identity begins to change.  They start to see themselves as worth something, as beautiful, as worthy of love, as strong, and so on.  Every old identity is replaced with a new one.  No one, none of us, can make that replacement on their own.  Many try.  Many try to find their identities in the work, their relationships, their outward appearances, their talents and abilities.  But most often they fail.  When someone recognizes who they are in Christ, that’s when the new identity that will actually stick starts to form.

Living in a fallen world we all struggle with our identities, some more than others.  It would be wonderful if we were all super comfortable in our identities in Christ, but I’ve met very few people who answer the question “Who are you?” with “A child of G-d” or something similar.  More often we answer the questions with our job titles, our names, our vocations, or our roles in our families.  At least, that’s how we answer to the outside world.  To ourselves we are often not as kind may answer quite differently.  It’s when we are talking to ourselves that the more negative names, the ones that hurt the most come up.  

But those are not who and what we are called to be.  We are in Christ and therefore we are new creations.  This is good news.  Better than good news, it is great news.  In Christ we are justified.  We belong to G-d.  We members of Christ’s body, citizens of heaven, we are forgiven.  We have hope and a future and peace.  We are not alone.  We have the promise of eternal life and full life.  We are hidden with Christ in G-d.  We have new identities.

(This is where I inserted something about evangelism and how we have a choice whether or not to share the gift of a new identity with those who don’t know Christ.  Not sure what came over me right then.  It just happened.)

Jesus turned to Peter and asked him who he said he was and he turns to each and every one of us and asks the same question: But what about you?  Who do you say I am?

 Benediction

Before we close this evening I’d like to share the words on a simple praise song with you as our benediction.  It is called “I will change your name”.  Listen to these words as if the Father himself were saying them to you.

I will change your name,

You will not longer be called,

wounded, outcast, lonely or afraid.

I will change your name.

Your new name shall be,

Confidence, Joyfulness, Overcoming One,

Faithfulness, Friend of G-d,

One who seeks my face.

Rejoicing and Lifting up

As with many things in life there is often and upside and a downside.  Sometimes they are completely unrelated.
First for the upside and super-duper happy news:
As of August 6, 2011 it will have been 100 days since I had a seizure. This is cause for great celebration. As Psalm 30:2 say, the LORD is the one who brings healing. I invite you to come celebrate with me and others.

It will be a rather informal (I don't do formal well) come and go type event from about 5pm-10pm. I'll have yummy baked goods, maybe some cheese and crackers, and a veggie tray and maybe some fruit of some sort out for snacking (we'll see how adventuresome I feeling this week). I'll probably also have some juice, tea (lots of tea, I like tea) and water available. If you'd like to bring something to share, please feel free, but it is not required by any means (no alcoholic beverages please).
I hope at some point to have a fire and maybe some marshmallows and s'more type stuff stuff out as well.
Feel free to bring spouses, significant others, children, etc as you feel is appropriate. And bring a lawn chair. That would be very useful.
I know some of you that I'm inviting can't come because you are in different states/countries/etc, but I still wanted you to feel invited. And if you can come, that would be amazing!! If I forgot to invite you and you see this, feel free to invite yourself. My brain has been known to forget people before (never intentionally!).
So, come celebrate with me :)
If you don't know where my back yard is, message me and I'll fill you in. I don't want to post the address here where anyone can see it because I don't want creepers at the celebration because that would be creepy.


Now for the downside/prayer request that is completely unrelated:
My dad is sick.  He has some sort of flesh eating bacteria or something and it's making him really really sick.  This kind of infection can be deadly if it isn't treated soon enough.  Thankfully, Mommy and Papa found it in time and he's on IV antibiotics.   Please pray for him and for my family.  He doesn't like being sick (no one does) and it could be awhile before he is well enough to go back to work.   Please pray that the doctors have wisdom in treating him and that he has patience as he heals.  Please also pray for a quite healing.  We serve a G-d of healing as evidenced by the post above.  I have confidence in that. 

The Plan

The plan was perfect.  We’d thought of everything, or so we thought.  My sister needed picked up from the canoe course she’d just taught. We had reservations at a “safe” restaurant.  We had excuses for why we needed to ride along to pick her up.  The birthday cake was made and decorated.  Chores were done early.  We were ready to get in the car with our unsuspecting father and head out.  Then the phone rang.   Phone calls at 3pm on a Sunday afternoon when all of us are home from college are unusual (when we're at school, that's about the time we check in).  It wasn’t hard to figure out from his side of the conversation what had happened.

He had a call.

He had to go respond.

Our plan seemed to be ruined.  Mom tried to cover, but he got suspicious.  Thankfully for us, he was wise and didn’t relay his suspicions.  Once he was out on the call Mom called the restaurant and tried to change the reservations.  She was successful. Then we tried to contact my sister and inform her of the change.  If we had reached her before he came home we could have made up a story about how she called saying she had been delayed in her return, but the number she had left us was erroneous.  We spent an hour trying to find the right phone number.  My dad returned. We thought our bluff was up.  In reality it partially was but, my dad in his wisdom, played along.

Mom, Youngest Brother and I, got in the car with him to go get her.  Mom came along just because (she doesn't need an excuse to hang out with her husband).  I came along so I could show Sister pictures of her new alpaca baby.  Youngest Brother came along so that he and Middle Brother wouldn't kill each other (they were having one of "those" days).  Papa came because he was the driver.

As soon as we left and were out of sight of the house Biggest Brother, other Sister and Middle Brother got in the truck and headed to the restaurant.

We collected Sister and then proceeded to give my dad directions "home".  I "spotted" a restaurant and decided I was hungry and couldn't wait until we got home and there were no snacks in the car, so we just had to stop. When we convinced him to pull into the parking lot, he knew we were up to something for sure.  Mom and I spotted Biggest Brother's truck and tried to direct him to park near it, but he didn't see it and wouldn't listen.  It was only once we were in the restaurant being seated with the others that he figured it out.  And it wasn't until dessert that Sisters figured out that we had cake for them and I had their birthday gifts.

The Plan didn't go exactly the way that we had intended it to (my dad is just too smart sometimes!), but it was still a good evening, and it made me think.

Someone has a Plan for my life.  I also have a plan for my life, just like my dad had a plan for his evening (FYI: it did not involve an emergency call or going out for dinner). Our plan for the evening was almost ruined by unexpected events.  I'm thankful that the One who knows my plan is greater than anything that could possibly ruin it. Things might (and often do!) happen that I don't expect, but nothing is unexpected for Him.  Just like my dad made plans to go pick up Sister and then come straight home, which didn't happen since we had plans for him that he didn't know about (which, in my opinion, were better anyways), G-d has plans for me that are different than my plans for me and in His opinion (and in mine), they are better anyways.

Sometimes it scares me to think that my plans are just that, my plans, and someone far greater than me is controlling them, and not just for an evening, or a day, or a week, but forever.  But when I think about who is controlling them, it scares me less.  He's been controlling everything since before time began, which is just crazy to think about.  When I'm confused or overwhelmed, I just remember Jeremiah 29:11

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future."

I don't have to worry about my plan, because as long as I'm following His Plan, I'll be okay.

A Far Greater Plan

One evening I set apart my entire evening from after dinner until bedtime.  It was going to be date night with Jesus.  It may sound cheesy, but I was excited.  I packed some blueberries for a snack (what's a date without some food?), got my Camelback all cleaned and filled, and set out towards Lake Michigan to watch the sunset with my Jesus.   It's about 8 miles (13km) from my apartment to the lake, so it was one of my longer trips this summer. I had my blueberries, my water, my Bible and my journal.  It was going to be a good night.
I got to the beach and made my way across the sand to the spot that stick out into the water.  I climbed over the railing and settled myself onto some nice big rocks and looked out over the Lake.
The sun reflected beautifully off the water.

I kept waiting for the color to explode across the sky like I'd seen it do before, but the sun just kept sinking lower

The brilliant colors didn't come and, as petty as it sounds, I started to get angry at G-d. I knew he could make a splendarific sunset.  He'd wow-ed me with them before.  I'd set apart this evening as a special time to be with him and he didn't how up.  I walked away from the beach angrily and got back on my bike and started back to my apartment, still ticked with G-d.

As I rode back, I glimpsed something beautiful out of the corner of my eye.  It was bright red and orange and yellow.

I tried to photograph it, but the picture just couldn't contain its glory. As I watched the moon rise in the night sky, I heard a voice whisper in my ear "I have a far greater plan for you"

My lover did show up.  He not only showed up, but he showed up in a more spectacular way than I could have planned, and he gave me the words that I most needed to hear.  He does indeed have a far greater plan for me. 

Knowing When to Quit

Some people are good at quitting, sometimes even too good.  Others, well, we just don't know when to quit.  We can be very determined.  Sometimes that is a good thing, such as when pure determination and hard work got me through college, in four years, 6 credits short of a double major, despite everything that life had thrown my way in those four years.  Other times it's not such a good thing, such as the time when my determination not to get a DNF or DQ on my final swim race (100m breast stroke) even though I'd had a massive asthma attack half way through, meant that I passed out, in the pool, as soon as I had finished the race. It also meant today that I spent about 45 minutes sitting on the locker room floor at the pool, fighting against passing out (for the record, I won).
As I pondered my tendencies to extreme determination (some of my friends have another word for it), it got me thinking about life and faith. The Bible has a fair bit to say about extreme determination or perseverance. Let's take a look.
In 2 Timothy 4:6-8 we read about having fought the good fight and finished the race. From my experience with swim racing, the only way to finish a race is to have extreme determination.  Sometimes the finish line seems miles away, especially if you are about 4 years old and only just able to make it from one end of the pool to the other, swimming freestyle.  When you are that four year old (I wasn't, just assisted in the coaching of some of them. The youngest swimmer I ever coached is now 13 and entering 7th grade.  Most days I choose not to think about that), the only thing that is between you and that DNF or DQ is your extreme determination to finish (and maybe your coaches yelling at you to not dare to touch the wall or they'd step on your fingers, but coaches would never do such a thing).  When you're swimming a distance race and the water as well as the air around it is freezing cold (snow on a meet day is rare, but not unheard of), it takes extreme determination and dedication (and a fair bit of craziness) to even get into the pool, much less finish the race.
In 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 we read that all run the race, but only one gets the prize. I was never one of the "good" swimmers.  The only way I could garner any points for my team was if there were less than 7 swimmers in the event, which is why I ended up swimming distance races (no one likes the distance races, but I never minded them).  The week after the meet everyone would collect their "ribbons", which were really paper cards, a different color for each of the top 7 places.  Some got a lot of cards, others, didn't get any (or if they were really little they got a purple card, just for participating), but we all trained.  3 days a week we were at the pool, rain or shine, cold or hot for practice. Some even more often than that (some summers I pretty much lived at the pool).  But every summer, at the end of the year, at that one meet that really mattered, the one where medals and trophies were handed out, there were only so many to hand out. A very few swimmers took the majority of them home (These were the "good" swimmers), but come next season, all of us were back in the pool, working again, training hard.  We didn't train aimlessly, but trained with a purpose in mind: more speed.  After weeks of not ever taking a ribbon home, after summers of never getting a medal, it takes extreme determination to come back, summer after summer after summer to try again, to train with that same goal in mind: more speed.
In Hebrews 12:1-3 we read about the cloud of witnesses surrounding us, encouraging us to finish the race.  If you've ever been to a Saturday morning rec league outdoor meet, you've got an idea of what it looks like to have a cloud of witnesses encouraging you.  There are people everywhere.  Some of them are parents who really don't understand the fascination we have with plunging ourselves into freezing cold water at 7:30 in the morning and then waiting a couple hours and doing it again.  Others are parents who do get it and wish they could still do it.  Either way, they are there with one purpose: support.  Support for their swimmer(s) and support for their team.  The sit around the pool, often in miserable conditions (it's usually either dangerously hot, ridiculously cold, or raining), for hours (starting at 7:30am, often running into mid afternoon), to offer support.  Some of the support comes in the form of helping with marshaling (getting the right swimmers in the right lanes, swimming the right strokes, at the right time), sometimes it's timing (running those exceedingly complicated stopwatches, watching extremely close for the swimmer in their lane to touch in and writing down times with utmost care, knowing that a disputed time will give everyone grief over a tenth of a second), sometimes it's running (getting cards from swimmers to timers in 25m events, getting cards from timers to scoring, making sure everyone has water, finding relief timers), sometimes it's scoring (interpreting those hand written scores and entering them into the computer (we're all technological now), printing and posting results pages and dealing with parents and coaches who are upset about a DQ given), but mostly, it's just cheering and being there for their swimmer(s). When you're the swimmer, you know what that "cloud of witnesses" feels like.  As you take your position, things are as silent as an outdoor meet ever gets.  The marshals are still calling names, the anxious swimmers in the next heat are still chattering, but you don't hear any of that.  Your auditory nerves are tuned to the voice of the starter "Swimmers! take your marks!  Get set!  GO!"  You never hear that go.  It's drown out by the starters pistol (or now, a lame whistle blast).  You leave the comfort of the pool deck (or starting block if you're at a fancy-schmancy pool), all forgotten except your goal: finish the race in as short as time as possible without DQing. As your head breaks the surface of the pool half way down (if you're a big kid, closer to the starting line if you're little) you hear the roar.  If you're luck you pick out one voice and listen for it every time your head breaks the surface (if you're not having an asthma attack, you do have to breath.  Funny how that works).  Voices roar at you "PULL!  PULL!  KICK!  Stop looking at the others and swim! PULL!  Finish strong!  PULL! GO! GO!  GO!" And then, almost as soon as it started, it's over and the spectators fall silent again as the next heat takes their place.
And as far as throwing off everything that hinders and following the course set out for us, yeah, swimmers know about that too.  We wiggle into the tiniest swimsuits possible (which are much easier to put on than take off), we put our hair under caps to reduce any drag, goggles are the minimal possible to keep chlorine out of our eyes and allow us to see the black line (course marked out for us!), and if you're a good swimmer who stands a chance at breaking a record, all body hair that isn't covered by suit or cap is removed.  We might train in different attire (think opposite), but when push comes to shove, when a few tenths of a second can make a difference, nothing is allowed to hinder.
Now none of these New Testament writers was talking about a swim race or even a foot race, they were talking about faith.  About pushing on for what what is right even when it's hard, even when it seems impossible or foolish.  They were talking about the extreme determination that it takes to be a Christian in this often hostile, and always sinful world, about how to keep following hard after Christ even though we are still sinners.  We have to train hard.  We have to accept encouragement from the cloud of witnesses surrounding us and we have to have extreme determination.  Sometimes it's easy, other times, it's brutal. And, getting a DNF would be much more tragic than getting a DNF at finals in the race where you actually stand a chance to earn your team those points that just might put them in the running for best team overall.
As far as the rest of life goes, I'm not sure the same extreme determination applies as it does to faith.  I think sometimes you do have to quit.  Our bodies are not our own if we belong to Christ.  1 Corinthians 6: 19-20 lays it out for us, as does the first question and answer of the Heidelberg when they say that we are not our own but belong body and soul, in life and in death, unto our faithful savior Jesus Christ, who bought us with a price.  When we abuse our bodies, we are abusing someone else's property, and well, really unpleasant stuff happens.    But quitting also isn't doing service to our Creator and Savior.  Imagine if someone gave you a really fast, really good car and told you to care for it and use it well and you responded by leaving it in the garage?  The giver would be pretty ticked that they gave you the car and then you never used it.  They'd be just as ticked if you abused the car and wrecked it through careless driving and lack of maintenance. I think we have to find that healthy medium between quitting and extreme determination.
And sometimes, that means listening to our bodies when our extreme determination takes over our sensibilities and getting out of the pool before you start to get light-headed, dizzy and have tunnel vision. :)

The Silver Lining: Romans 8:12-25

Here's the manuscript I went into tonight's service with (with two changes- this one is single spaced and everything highlighted in red was highlighted in yellow on my copy).  I'm getting more comfortable preaching so I tend to "go off book" a little more often than I did at first.  I still read a little more than I would like to though.
It never ceases to amaze me how G-d can take my stumbling tongue, my youthful words and use them to touch people.  Praise the Lord for His mighty power!

Romans 8:12-25

As I read and prayed through this text repeatedly in preparation for writing this sermon, I kept being drawn to the parts about suffering: if you live according to the sinful nature you will die, our present suffering, bondage to decay, groaning as in the pains of childbirth.  Perhaps it’s because if I’m not careful, I can be a little bit of a pessimist or perhaps, and equally likely it is because when I read this passage I hear in my head the voice of a dear friend of mine who was fond of quoting verse 18 to me in King James Version in her deepest southern drawl. Without the southern drawl, it would sound like this:

For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared to the glory which shall be revealed in us.

If you can imagine that in a southern drawl, maybe you can get a slight idea of why it sticks so firmly in my head.   The two of us served on a mission team together many years ago in Africa, and being in Africa, sometimes times were tough: we were missing our own beds stateside, we didn’t have flush toilets, or hot running water (most days there was cold running water though), it was rainy season so our clothes almost never got dry, and there were great big huge dinner plate sized moths.  Not every day was easy, but when things got tough we’d remind ourselves that our present sufferings weren’t worthy to be compared with the glory that was to be revealed in us.

Or perhaps the parts about suffering stick out to me because when I read them there is a little piece of me that goes “wait a minute!?! Suffering?  Really?  I thought the battle was won, Jesus came, died, rose again, forgave us of all our sins and now we have to suffer?  This can’t be right.  Paul must not know what he’s talking about!”  I think if we are really honest with ourselves, we have all had moments where we’ve stopped, even just briefly to say “wait a minute.  That’s not how I thought this trusting the Lord thing was supposed to go.”  Perhaps it was when you lost your job or your house.  Perhaps it was finding out you  or a loved one had significant medical concerns.   Or maybe it was when a relationship didn’t go the way you had hoped or planned that it would.   Or a loved one died long before you thought it was time for them to go. Or perhaps when one of you children wandered away from everything you’d tried to teach them. Everyone knows what it’s like to suffer to one degree or another.  It’s not something we can compare or measure, but it is something we all know.

Thankfully this passage doesn’t leave us in a place of suffering.  It tells us that suffering will indeed happen, but along with that there is hope.  Hope of a glory to come and a hope of liberation.  If we go back to the beginning and wade through the first section about our sinful nature, we can see that our obligation is not to live according to the sinful nature.  In fact, if we do live according to our sinful natures, we will die.  Rather, when we become Christians, the power of the Spirit of G-d helps us to put to death the sinful nature and adopts us as sons and daughters of G-d.  

There is something special about being someone’s son or daughter.   If you have a father who was or is present in your life in a positive way, you know what it’s like to be able to cry out “Daddy!” or an equivalent there off.   This text uses the Aramaic term “Abba”, which translates to father or daddy or papa or whatever else one might call their father figure.   If you didn’t have a positive father figure in your life, think about your mother or mother figure and how comforting it was to be able to call out to your Mother right when you needed her the most. 

How many of us have watched a child learning to walk or ride a bike and then seen them fall?  If their parents are there, that’s where they turn to, to their Daddy or Mommy who scoops them up in their arms and comforts them before helping them  try again.  They don’t scold them for not getting it right the first time or the second time or the tenth time or the hundredth time.  They are simply there with their strong arms, ready for when their son or daughter needs them again.

That’s the kind of relationship we have through the Spirit, to G-d, our Father.  We are his dearly loved children.  And even when our earthly parents fail, which they so often do, we know that G-d will never fail.  No matter how many times we fall, no matter what kind of mess we get ourselves into, G-d will always be waiting there, with open, loving arms, ready to comfort us and set us up to try again.

Since we are children of G-d, we are brothers and sisters to Christ, in a spiritual sense, which means we are co-heirs with Christ, and, according to verse 17, if we share in his sufferings we will also share in his glory.  This is the glory that our present sufferings are not worth being compared to.  I have a hard time imagining what it would be like to inherit anything significant, much less incredible glory.  I’m one of six children.  When my parents are called home to glory, whatever is left after all 6 of us have made it through college, and we’ve cared well for our parents, will likely be divided amongst us.  But I’ve heard of people inheriting family fortunes.  It changes their lives.  Sometimes for the better, sometimes not. 

A number of years ago a movie called “Princess Diaries” came out.  In the movie a fairly normal teenage girl, living with her widowed mom who is an artist, receives word that she has inherited the country of Genovia. In the space of 5 minutes she goes from being a normal teenager living a normal life to having to consider whether she wants to accept this massive inheritance or not.  This inheritance, should she choose to accept it, will change her life.  

The inheritance that we, as children of G-d and coheirs with Christ, are set to receive is far greater than a county, even Genovia.  Psalm 50 tells us that our G-d, our Father owns “every animal in the forest, the cattle on a thousand hills, every bird in the mountains and the creatures of the field.”  It’s far greater than anything that we could possibly comprehend.

This inheritance is the glory that our present sufferings are not worth being compared to.  But to get to the glory, we first have to share in Christ’s sufferings.

In the next section of this passage Paul uses a powerful metaphor to explain our suffering and the fullness of glory that we will experience.  He uses the metaphor of the pangs of labor and childbearing.   Let’s read that section again.

“The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed.  For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.”

I have never been pregnant, therefor I have never given birth to a baby, so I can’t relate completely to labor pains, but I was present when both of my younger brothers made their entrances into the world, and I did grow up on a farm.  As I got older, I was given the role of “alpaca midwife”, assisting the females in our herd in their yearly task of bringing new life into the world. 

In early June of this year I assisted at a particularly difficult birth.  The baby was large and not in the ideal birthing position.  The labor had been long and very difficult.  As the cria began to make her entrance into the big wide world the mother alpaca began to scream.  She screamed and screamed as we repositioned the baby and assisted her little girl into the world.  As soon as we had the little girl and were beginning all the activities necessary immediately after a birth, the mother began her gentle, calm humming again, as if nothing had pained her enough to warrant screaming just a few moments earlier.  From my limited experience with humans and my experiences with animals, I imagine that this was what Paul was talking about.  After all, Paul was an unmarried man, so I doubt he had much more experience with childbirth than I have had up to this point in my life.

We are waiting in eager expectation for the glory of G-d to be revealed, for our liberation from the bondage of decay that sweeps across our world.  We long for the day when there is no more sickness or decay or death.  No more ware, no more children being abused, no more mothers crying over babies that never saw the light of day, no more people starving.  That is the world we long for.  The weight of the suffering of the world we live in often  weighs heavily on us.  It makes us uncomfortable and we groan and cry out for it to change.  It hurts.  It feels like it will never end.  We groan inwardly and sometimes even outwardly, but there is nothing we can do to change it.  We can’t speed up the process.

 The baby always comes when it’s ready.

If Paul stopped writing there, there would be little hope, little encouragement, but he doesn’t stop there.  He goes on to give us the silver lining in this world of suffering and pain:

For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has?  But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

The silver lining in this passage is the fact that we can hope, that we have hope in the return of Christ.  We have hope in the fact that we are co-heirs with Christ, that there is a glory to come, and inheritance far greater than we can imagine. If we already had it, we would not be able to hope in it.  If we could imagine it accurately, it would not have the same appeal as an unimaginable inheritance of glory.

Did you ever sneak around before Christmas and to figure out what you were going to get ahead of time?  When you thought no one was looking you peaked under mom and dad’s bed or in the closet or wherever you thought they might hide the gifts.  You saw it.  That thing you had been hoping for all year, or at least all of the last two weeks.  The object that your parents told you Santa might bring if you were really good.  You found it.  You knew it was coming and would be there Christmas morning.  But then something happened.  Some of the excitement left Christmas.  You woke up Christmas morning and went to unwrap your gifts, but it wasn’t as exciting as you had hoped it would be.  You already knew what was inside that brightly wrapped package.  You were happy, but there was no anticipation.  No hope that it would be there because you already knew for sure that it was there.

If we could imagine the full glory of our inheritance we wouldn’t have near as much to look forward to.  Some of the excitement would leave.  We’d just be putting in time here, instead of hoping, waiting expectantly for our adoption as sons and daughters and the renewal of our bodies. 

When things get tough, when we feel the weight of our suffering, when we do battle with our sinful natures, we can cling to the silver lining that there is hope and that we can still have hope because we cannot fully grasp the glory that is to come.   We can wait patiently, or at least try to be patient, (when I’m hoping for something really hard, I have a hard time with the patience thing.  You should have seen me as a child on Easter morning.  Patience was not my strong point) as we eagerly hope for the glory that we one day be revealed in us, co-heirs with Christ Jesus.

Amen.

Pickled Asparagus, Radical Evangelism, Human Trafficking and Jesus

This afternoon while I was pickling asparagus (something new for me...I've never pickled asparagus before.  Just cucumbers and beets, but I like asparagus and I like beets, so pickled asparagus sounds promising.) I was thinking about radical evangelism, human trafficking and Jesus.  I know what the last three have in common, but I am still not quite sure how packing asparagus spears into piping hot jars while listening to a Sara Groves/Tenth Avenue North/JJ Heller/Laura Hackett/Laura Story playlist bought me to the other three topics.  If you have any ideas, please feel free to let me know!

Anyone who denies that human trafficking (a fancy word for slavery!) is a problem in North America, needs to wake up a little bit and read some headlines.  Google "Human Trafficking in *insert name of country or state or province here*" and what you find may surprise you. It's happening in your back yard, whether you like it or not. 

According to Canada Fights Back, human trafficking is the second largest organized crime worldwide. It brings in more profit annually than Google, Starbucks and Nike combined.  I could give you more facts, such as the fact that every 30 seconds a child is sold or the fact that 80% of the people enslaved due to human trafficking are women, but I'll stop there.  If you want to know more, google it. 

As I thought about the problem of human trafficking, the overwhelming questions on my heart were: Who is going to reach these people?  Who is going to tell them that there is a G-d who loves them, no matter what man has done to them? (70% of those sold into slavery are sold of the purpose of sexual exploitation)

I thought about who reached the slaves when slavery was legal.  In some ways it was easier then, the slaves were visible then, whereas today, many of them are hidden. As I thought more about it, my very limited knowledge brought to mind that the Gospel was shared with slaves by other slaves.  As slaves were bought and sold they carried their most precious possession with them - the saving truth of the Gospel. When they could, they sang it.  I remembered a story about two young Moravians that I used in a sermon last spring, who willingly sold themselves into slavery so that they could reach other slaves. 

As I called that story back to mind, my mind began to wander to today...could the same concept work today? Could someone sell themselves into slavery in order to reach other enslaved people?  That would be super radical evangelism.

Jesus gave us the model for radical evangelism. He could have just sent a message from heaven to tell us about His saving grace.  But I'm not sure that would have meant anything to us.  In fact, I'm almost certain it wouldn't.  It would be comparable for me telling someone who is going through a bitter divorce how to fix their marriage...I've never been married (nor divorced) and I have no training in marriage counselling (yet). They wouldn't want to listen to me and they shouldn't listen to me!  Instead, Jesus came to us.  He came to be one of us.  To walk the roads we walk, to fight the fights we fight every day.  He earned his right to be heard. He earned it along a beach with fishermen, on the long dusty roads, in the crowded synagogues, at the painful end of a Roman whipping, as the recipient of jeers and spits, on a Roman cross, and ultimately when he rose again from the grave, conquering death.  After he had earned his right to be heard, then he could share the message he came to share (and had been sharing) and have it understood and received.  

All of this thinking led me to the inevitable conclusion: in order to reach those who have been sold into slavery, in order for the Gospel to be heard by them, someone has to become one of them.  Someone has to let themselves be sold into slavery.  

It's a hard thought.  It is not something I am called to, but the question it raised in me was "what if?"  What if that was my calling? What if I had a very clear message from the Lord that my calling was to sell myself into slavery so that I could reach other slaves?  Would I go?  Would I listen?  Or would I pull a Jonah and run as fast as I could in the other direction because it seemed so extreme? What about you?  What f that was G-d's calling on your life?  Would you go?

It's easy to say that you would follow G-d's call on your life, no matter what is.  To stand up or raise your hand at a retreat or after a short term mission trip and say that you are ready to follow G-d's call, no matter what it is, but it's another thing to realize what a potential calling might be, what it would mean, and then still say that you would follow no matter what.

For those of you holding your breath out of curiosity, wanting to know if I would actually sell myself into slavery if that is what G-d called me to: the answer is that I don't know. I would have to do some pretty serious praying about it first.  And then, at some point, if I were 100% sure that this is what I was called to do, then I would pray that I would have the faith to follow through. And that answer goes for anything that G-d might call me to, not just selling myself into slavery.

Psalm 30

Some days a picture is worth a thousand words.  Today is one of them.

A2CW: Addicted to Christian Weed

Do you ever start to think about something and then think about something else and eventually end up right back where you started?  That’s a spruce loop.  Some people might call it rabbit trail, but spruce loop is the far better term.   Besides, spruce trees smell better than rabbit poop any day of the week.

Anyhow, we were driving home from some place the other day and I was thinking about a particular time in which I’d gotten lost.  It was a time when I really ought to have known my way, but because of the state my brain was in during that period of my life and because I’d taken some prescription medication that exacerbated the condition, I was in no position to give even the simplest directions (think drunk and high). Anyhow, while I was thinking about that event my brain stumbled upon another event from close to the same time period in my life...

It feels like half a lifetime ago, though in reality it was only about 7 or 8 years ago or so, so about a third of my lifetime ago really.  I hung out with some pretty awesome people that summer.  And by pretty awesome, I mean super awesome.  I don’t know where all of them are now, and that makes me sad, but so goes life. I miss them though and think of them all often.  The ones I have stayed in touch with are mostly married now and some even have children of their own.  There are a few of us left that I know of who are still single.  Often, I wish we could go back to that summer, share what we shared then.

Life was in many ways easier then. We dealt with some pretty crazy stuff that summer, but now, looking back, it seems like such little things compared to all that has happened since then.  That summer, I hadn’t yet learned how to deal with a high school student who was suicidal.  My struggle with an eating disorder and depression hadn’t quite begun yet, though it did follow not overly long afterwards.  I didn’t have a clue what life with seizures was like.  I had no idea what feelings would run through my mind when a doctor would tell me that I was potentially terminal (he was wrong by the way). The struggles we had, although they seemed major then, and some of them were fairly major, all shrink in comparison to everything that has happened since then (and there is a whole bunch I’m not sharing in this public of a forum).  And that’s okay.  That’s not was this is about.  Just a bit of explanation as to why that summer feels like half a lifetime ago.  Think of it has a mini spruce loop.

That summer I was introduced to Christian Weed.  In fact, of the many quotes that graced our quote board (which I almost want to pull out and read, but it’s packed away and I’m tired), one of the few I can remember right now, off the top of my head, is “A2CW” which stood for “Addicted to Christian Weed”.  (The other one I can remember is “Jesus thinks you’re cool” or JTYC), and that is what I began thinking about as I thought about being lost - Christian Weed.

Christian Weed was how we referred to that feeling we got after an all night prayer vigil or a spontaneous session of worship or a time of intense prayer.  It was that feeling of being so filled with the spirit that it overflowed and bubbled out of us, making us laugh uncontrollably or jump and sing with complete abandon, the joy of the Lord that made us completely undignified before our King. That feeling was so addicting, our hunger for the Lord was so strong, that we would do whatever it took to get back to that place and stay in it.  Although there was nothing wrong with that, in fact, there was so much good about it, I wonder though, if maybe perhaps we were a little misguided.

We were addicted to Christian weed. We were searching for one spiritual high after another, always trying to experience that again.  But, like with any drug, no high is ever as high as the first one.  Perhaps it would have been better if we were truly addicted to Jesus, not just to Christian weed.  I’m not saying we weren’t addicted to Jesus, for there is no doubt in my mind that we were all crazy about Jesus.  Our addiction to Jesus is what led us to Christian weed in the first place (Does that make Jesus a gateway drug?), but somehow I think our focus, or at least mine, got shifted away from Jesus and more to towards Christian weed and the feelings that went with worshiping Jesus.  The problem with that is, feelings aren’t always reliable.  When depression took over (and nearly took) my life shortly thereafter, I couldn’t get that high.  No matter how hard I sought it, I couldn’t get the Jesus high.  I couldn’t get high about anything.  I could seek that high all I wanted, but I could never get there.  Instead of seeking Jesus and longing for him, I longed for Christian weed. 

Now, even though my fight with depression has been mostly won (every now and then it rears its ugly head), that habit is sometimes still there.  Sometimes I still find myself longing for a hit of Christian weed.  I search long and hard after it, instead of searching long and hard after Jesus, the only one who can really give me that high.

I don’t blame anyone for that habit.  In fact, I think I have learned a lot from it.  I also cannot say that everyone from that summer had the same experience.  Even though we were all in the same place, we didn’t necessarily have the same experience.  My experience is valid only for me.

Which brings me full circle to where I started.  Sometimes, my brain loses focus and I get lost.  I start searching for what I want instead of what I know I need.  It’s simple, something I’ve known for a long time, but I still can’t always remember it.  The time I was remembering about getting lost (the story at the very beginning of this post) was when I was trying to give someone directions from my high school to home.  I should have known that.  I had known it for a long time, but because my brain was on a binge, I couldn’t do it.  

When my brain and spirit long after a hit of Christian weed I forget that all I really need to do is turn to Jesus and long after him instead.  In the end, He’ll be better than any hit and He will keep me from getting lost. And even when I do get lost, He'll still be there to guide me back to the right path, to get me home even when  I can no longer help myself.

Perhaps it's time to say goodbye to Christian weed and figure out some sort of catchy slogan that communicates an addiction to Jesus instead of to feelings.

And perhaps it is also time to conclude this particular spruce loop.

Soundtrack of my day

Right from the moment I woke up today, this song has been running through my head.  Not a modern remix of it, but the good old fashioned words sung with an organ.  I've marked some of the words that have stuck out to me the most (ie, have run through my head the most times)

Christ the Solid Rock
My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus' blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus' name.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

His oath, His covenant, and blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When every earthly prop gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found,
Clothed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne!
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

My Father's Voice

Every morning that I'm on the farm, almost like clockwork, I hear the good morning voice.  It starts in the back on the upstairs hall "Good Morning Isaac" and then moves forward calling to the girls.  Then downstairs for Ben, Reuben, and Me.  The order changes only if we change beds or someone isn't home.  Every time it says "Good Morning" there is a replying, sleepier voice responding with "Good Morning Papa."  If we fail to respond, the voice calls to us again.  And again, and again, until we respond.
It's that voice, that deep, reassuring voice, that brings us all out of our world of dreams, or the land of half wakefulness that we are lying in. It's the voice of our father, calling to us to once again join the land of the awake.   To rise and do our chores, eat breakfast and continue with our day.
On occasion, his alarm doesn't go off or he is tempted to snuggle under the covers a little longer than normal, or he gets a service call before wake up time and isn't able to "good morning" us at the normal time.  Even though it's a little thing, even though we are all perfectly capable of getting ourselves up in the morning, it throws off our routine.
Often, I am half awake, or even all the way awake before he calls me for morning time. I lay there in my bed and wait for him to call to me.  My ears are tuned to his voice, to the words he is going to say and I am ready to reply.
One morning I lay in my bed, waiting, and waiting, and waiting (he'd snuggled longer than usual).  As I waited I thought about it.  I'm super attentive to my father's voice in the morning time, but what about my other Father?  How often do I sit in silence, in stillness and wait for Him to speak to me?  If I'm completely honest, not often enough.  It's easier to listen for a familiar voice with my normal ears.  It takes more patience to listen with the ears of my heart to another familiar voice. This makes me sad.  It should not be this way.
What about you? Do you find it easier to listen with normal ears than the ears of your heart? How do you train the ears of your heart?
I think it has a lot to do with routine and practice.  My normal ears are trained to hear my father's voice.  It comes every morning.  I expect it.  I spend time with my father, so I know his voice. I think, if I want to tune the ears of my heart towards my Father, I need to make it more of my routine to listen to Him instead of fitting Him into my schedule.  And, I need to expect Him to speak, to call to me.
All this thinking reminded me of a song.  Here's a video.  Unfortunately, I couldn't find one that was captioned.  Sorry.

When G-d's people pray: A story of healing

Two weeks ago I sat in the emergency room, crying in pain,  listening to a doctor I've seen before and trust (she has a stellar reputation), tell me that I had almost certainly torn the rotator cuff in my left shoulder.
Four days later (Tuesday) I sat in the doctor's office as another doctor agreed with the ER doctor (without having seen her notes) -- I had most likely partially or completely torn my rotator cuff.  I'd be in a sling for 2-3 weeks at least and needed to start physical therapy to safely keep my shoulder from freezing up while not doing any more damage to my shoulder.  He prescribed some narcotic pain killers (ick!) to take the edge off of things and told me to follow-up with a doctor in a week so they could do another, more complete assessment (at the time it was still too swollen and painful to do anything with).
During the following week I very carefully and slowly (one handed typing takes me forever) typed out a prayer request to send to some of my praying friends who are further away and I hadn't communicated with in person.  By the time I sent it out, there were about 70 names on the "to" list.
A week later I returned to yet a third doctor for my follow-up assessment.  She agreed with the conclusions of the first two and referred me on to imaging for x-rays and an ultrasound and told me to continue with my physical therapy, as tolerated, but to be careful so I didn't do any more damage until we knew exactly what we were dealing with.
Today, only 3 days after that assessment, I managed to raise my arm all the way above my head. I haven't worn the sling at all today.  I haven't taken narcotic pain killers since Monday (5 days ago). I have a prescription anti-inflammatory cream that I've been using a couple times a day and a heating pad to help with some muscle stiffness. I'm getting more and more use of it back. I even lifted a quart jar of olives from the refrigerator to the counter this afternoon without too much pain.  I still have no strength in my arm when I have it above shoulder height and it is still painful if I move it wrong.  There are still a few motions (external rotation specifically) that are painful and scary.  And now, at the end of a busy day, it is aching pretty good.

The bottom line is this: either three doctors were independently wrong in their diagnoses or something unexplainable in medical terms happened. (A rotator cuff takes 4-6 months to heal, if it's a partial tear.  A complete tear takes significantly longer.  Medically speaking, 2 weeks post injury, I should not be able to do everything that I can do with it today.)
Some one asked me recently if I believed that G-d still healed people today.  I told him yes then.  I'd tell him an even bigger yes today.  I go Monday for my X-rays and ultrasound.  Anyone really think they'll find something wrong?