Taste and See

"Taste and see that the LORD is good." - Psalm 34:8  I've heard this verse all my life and always associate it with my need to remember that God is good.  I love the confidence that exudes from that verse.  Almost like a cosmic 'taunt':  'Go ahead. See for yourself.'

But why taste? Of all the senses, why that one?  Why not ,"Look here. You can see that God is good."  or "Listen:  you'll hear that God is good." I've been mulling that over the past couple days...

I wonder if the Psalmist had told us to "Look and see that God is good", would I doubt?  Would I be tempted to rub my eyes in disbelief?  Like he's a master salesman, tricking me into thinking that something mediocre (or even bad) is actually good? Especially when things around me clearly aren't good...would I still be convinced that God is good, just by looking? I'm not sure.  (There's a reason "I couldn't believe my eyes!" is a thing.)

Or how about Listen?  Listen - and hear that God is good.  I used to think the words to the Michael W Smith song were "Go West young man, don't even go East."  (There are entire websites dedicated to misheard song lyrics.  It's actually pretty funny.) But for obvious reasons, I don't think I would trust just on the basis of my hearing.

But taste; tasting is different.  I can't fool myself about something in my mouth.  The thousands of taste buds in there tell me if something is salty or sweet or bitter.  "Taste buds tell your brain whether or not to swallow what's already in your mouth."  So if I'm tasting something good, you'd better believe I'm going to swallow it.  Take it in completely.  And when I ingest something, it is absorbed into my body, and makes changes to the chemical balance in my system.

In that sense, taste is the perfect verb to experience the inherent good-ness of God.  'Come here. Sample. Swallow. Ingest.  Don't be deceived by what your eyes see, or confused by what your ears hear.  Taste.  Definitively know that God is good.'

Then trust in that good-ness.

What a Difference a Day Makes

My thoughts are all over the map today, so I don't know for sure what I think.  But I know what I feel; my heart feels heavy.  And sad.  And confused and a little scared.  And very disappointed.

On Thursday, American Christians were praising the people of Emmanuel AME Church in South Carolina for their sacrificial love: forgiving and showing mercy and extreme grace in the face of gross injustice.  There were posts and 'likes' and comments and promises of prayers.  Our church joined hundreds of other churches across the country and around the world in 'standing with our brothers and sisters and declaring they will not grieve alone'.   The Church (big C) looked good as Jesus' brand of selfless love was reflected to the watching world. "Hate is powerful but love is more powerful." Amen.

On Friday, American Christians are once again posting and 'liking' and commenting, but this time on the SC's decision to legalize same-sex marriage and I feel sad to the point of 'sick'. How could the Church be so united one day and so divided the next?  Are we really that fickle?  That short-sighted? 

I'm not even talking about the decision.  That's an entirely different issue.  I'm sad today about some Christians' very public response.  The underlying (and sometimes overt) message I hear in so many comments is "We're right, you're wrong, and we're going to hold on to that 'rightness' in the name of Jesus because we have to stand up for what we believe!"  I fear that's the message the world is hearing too.  And as I'm called to be like Jesus, who 'only did what I he saw the Father doing', I'm asking myself if that's the message he would be speaking.  I don't see Jesus defending himself and his 'rightness' (though he, of all people could have). He didn't stir up the disciples to defend him.  (In fact, he rebuked Peter for defending him in the garden).  I don't see Jesus hunting down the adulteress to say that he loves her, he just hates her sin.  When the issue was forced on him in John 8, he didn't respond with bible verses, or even well-thought arguments.  He gently reminded everyone that they too, sin.  They too are wrong.  And so am I.  In more ways that I want to admit.

But Jesus also didn't ignore her sin.  He just reminded her that she was made to live a better way.  "Neither do I condemn you; go and from now on sin no more".  I often wonder if she did.  Was her life forever different because Jesus loved her enough to not condemn her sin, but challenge her to change?

That's the posture I want to have.  I don't want to condemn others for sin.  I can't.  I sin too.  But I do want to challenge it, and have it challenged in me.  And by doing so, point to a better way by walking that way myself.  Hate is powerful but love is more powerful.

A Thousand Little Deaths

So I've been in kind of a funk the past couple of weeks.  Someone said something that really hurt.  It was unfair (though maybe not entirely untrue).  But the way they said it, and the time they said it was so wrong it lessened my respect for them. And it wasn't a little comment, it became a rant.  And others joined in.  And friends sat in silence.  Yeah. Painful. Hence the funk.

I've been holding my 'righteous indignation' like a comforting teddy bear.  It didn't actually make me feel any better; I just thought it did.  I had daydreams about what I would say to these people next time I see them.  (You know, the scenarios where you have the perfect come-back or the most generous forgiveness??)  I had to force myself to go places I thought they might be.  I'd rather be anywhere else. 

But after a couple of 'funky' weeks, I'm even irritating myself.  This has to stop.  

So yesterday, I decided to pick up a really good book I hadn't finished yet.  I found my bookmark and began to read...and experienced that sweet, Holy Spirit 'slap in the face'. The kind of 'ouch' that comes when you realize you've been wrong, but you didn't see it until this moment.  The one that shows you how your 'righteous indignation' has been anything but righteous.  The 'sweet slap' where you are convicted but not condemned.  That's when I know it's the Holy Spirit.  Only He can do that.  And He's really good at it.

I've been holding onto that perceived injustice like a badge of honor.  And I have to let it go. What they said was still unfair.  Their timing and tone was still wrong.  But the way I've let it color my feelings about the whole group has been wrong of me.  I'm learning I have to go back to my Father and ask Him to remind me what is true: about the situation, about those people, about me.  I have to remember that I have been crucified with Christ - and I no longer live, but He lives in me.  I've already died to worrying about what other people think of me.  But today I die to that again.  And knowing me, I'll have to die to it again tomorrow. I'll have to die a thousand little deaths until I can embrace the new life God has for me.

But more than anything, I want to say "Yes" to that life.  So I have to let this go.  I have to forgive.  I have to ask God what in their words rings true? Why did it hurt so much? What is He wanting to deal with in me? 

Shallow-Truster

If I'm being totally honest, I have to admit I'm a shallow-truster.  I wish I could trust with abandon.  But I'm more like the boy's father in Mark 9, "I believe; help my unbelief!"  I can trust in little things, but still tend to freak out over big things.  I hate this about myself, but I'm asking God to help me with it.

(which means He brings me multiple opportunities to 'practice' trust :/)

Last night was a rough one.  My husband was part of an incredibly painful, difficult conversation, and after he came home and 'debriefed' with me (which included rehashing the conversation - complete with varying levels of emotions, answering my million questions and finally praying together so we wouldn't let anger/discouragement take hold), we both had less than restful sleep.  So as I'm flipping through my journal (because that's what I do when I'm procrastinating instead of actually making a new entry), I found the page where I had written down the Prayer of St Teresa:

"Let nothing disturb you. Let nothing frighten you. All things pass away:  God never changes." And I felt God saying, "I won't ever leave.  I know your world has been turned upside down.  But I am unchanging.  I'm still in control. And I won't let you go. Don't be upset. Don't be afraid. You can trust me."

I trust you God.  Help me trust you...

x

Comma Living

Until a few months ago, I lived a very "run-on-sentence" life.  In my mind, there was too much to be done to come to a complete stop.  I should always be doing something - to show God how thankful I am; that He can use me.  That's what good Christians do, right?  They sacrifice.  Work tirelessly.  Selflessly.  And let's face it: people like it when you're available 24/7. No one else is going to set boundaries for you.  As Emily Freeman says, "Life doesn't have corners - we create our own stops, our own spaces".

The thing is, the run-on life soon ran out.  There was no life.  It was just words.  Endless, streaming, novels full of passion and ideas and impression management and worries and wondering and nonsense. Some of it was beautiful.  But a lot of it was noise.  

And then the words ran out.  I had nothing more to give.  Didn't want to even if I had.  I was dry and brittle and resentful.  But I was too afraid to let other people know that.  So I hid.  I made up words, or repeated old phrases that sounded good.  My relationships were reduced to 'sound bites'.

But then, God gave me a priceless gift:  time.  He orchestrated a sabbatical for my husband and me.  6 weeks with no commitments, no have-to's or should's; no deadlines or to do lists (not even phones!!)  I can't explain how humbling it is to be allowed to hit "pause" on your life. All I know is, I'll thank Him every single day by living differently because of what I learned during the pause.

From now on I want to pursue "comma living".  Where the words of my life are refreshing, sometimes beautiful, sometimes challenging, sometimes just funny.  But in the midst of the pages and paragraphs - I want to pause.  You know: like a comma.  It's not a full stop - the story keeps going.  But there's a beautiful comma that gives the reader a chance to pause and reflect, or wonder or just catch your breath.  Without the commas, the story can't take shape.  It gets confusing.  Or worse, misunderstood. Commas are like the margins on the page: they don't change what's being said, they just give it structure so it can be correctly understood and appreciated.

So I'm done with 'run-on' living.  I want to embrace 'comma living'.  Paying attention to the meter of the story of my life, and pausing at times to reflect, remember or rest. 

Seasonal Disorder?

Spring.  It's April 23rd and my calendar says we are officially a month into Spring. (Not that my town got the memo, as it snowed yesterday.)  But it is, in fact, spring again. And more importantly (at least to me) it's spring again in my life.
It was about a year ago that I was sitting with 5 incredible women who met regularly for the express purpose of helping each other pay attention to what God is saying to us. We were talking about the 'seasons' of our lives and how God moves us through those different seasons expertly, even though we would prefer perpetual spring.  You know, that time in life when things feel fresh and clean again? When there is renewed energy and new, beautiful things popping up all over? That Spring.  I want to live in that Spring year-round. But as we talked that day, I was struck by the fact that God didn't design nature to work that way. So why would I expect the seasons of my life to work that way?  

You can't experience spring without first living through the winter. There has to be that time to rest and regroup.  Be still.  Soak in.  Be held.  And then as spring is coming, there's the raking away of all that's dead.  There's painful (sometimes drastic) pruning.  And then more care: a little feeding, lots of water, some storms.  And small beginnings.  That's where I am. 

It's been a loooong season of winter for me.  A kind of slow dying - that actually started so slowly, I didn't even realize it was happening.  By the time I figured it out, the damage was done.  I was well and truly fried. Done. Finished.  The 'let-me-run-away-and-never-come-back' kind of done.  That's a scary place to be.  And not knowing how I got there, I didn't know how to find my way back. But then, just like a child who got lost in the store, my Father came and found me.  

I can see now that He was there long before I recognized Him.  I was too busy crying and (honestly) throwing a tantrum, to see Him standing by patiently, lovingly, hand outstretched.   And when I finally quieted enough to hear His voice reassuring me, I was able to just rest in His arms.  

So when I look at the trees budding and the flowers blooming, I'm reminded that my Dad is faithful. Spring will always come after Winter.  And this year, when Spring turns to Summer, I'll swim and dance and sing and play.  And when that Summer turns to Autumn, I'll laugh and gather and be thankful.  And when the next Winter comes in my life, I want to embrace it as the much-needed rest that my all-knowing, Creator-God designed for me.  And I'll snuggle in, quiet myself and be at peace.

Surrender

Today was another one of those days when God reminded me very clearly how blessed I am to get to serve with such amazing people.  I've worked at enough churches over the years to know that what our team shares is unusual and special.  We laughed together, worshipped together, prayed together.  One person took a risk and spoke into my life today by sharing what God brought to their mind while they prayed over me.  It's stuck with me all day and literally feels like a 'hug' from God.  I'm so thankful for these special people.

While we were singing, R - our worship leader - encouraged us to confess things that we had trouble surrendering.  I had to confess my "will" again - because let's face it: at the end of the day, I want what I want.  I want my children to be happy and get what they need (and want).  I want things to go smoothly with no conflict.  I want to be healthy and not have to worry about finances.  And yet, as I surrender my 'will' to God - those things cease to be an issue.  I know that His will is perfect.  So whatever He chooses for my children or my relationships or my health or my finances, He chooses it to bring me closer to Him.

So I'm grateful for the reminder to surrender.