The Weirdo in the Lobby

I liken it to the nurse who hands the doctor his scalpel on cue, or the guy who keeps the painters pallet full of paint. Perhaps the typesetter of the author's words ready for print. In any case the artist is the creator and the assistant just does as they are told; sometimes even without knowing what that creator is up to. The old "just do what you are told and don't ask questions." However, yesterday, and I assisted, I found myself with just that: questions.

Here's how it played out.  For those who are little weirded out, no worries, so was I.   I value the community and discipline of going to church on Sunday mornings so it wasn't a surprise to find me there yesterday.  One way I am able to really connect with God in a service is through music.  I often will sing the guy in front of me's toupee off, and have been known to hit Dave upside the head as my arms raise in a deeply worshipful time for me.  Yesterday was no different - at first.

As I worship I often feel that I am able to hear God's whisper of a voice in my heart more clearly than during the hustle and bustle of other life happenings. Yesterday the whisper was loud and clear.  He wanted me to leave my hands raised for the entire service. Now I was okay with this as long as there was music going on, but as I became more convinced he was serious, I moved to the back of the auditorium, realizing that this was and would be strange.

As worship ended and the sermon began I was going on a bout six minutes of hands raised in the air, I knelt down so as not to draw attention to myself, but that was the least of my worries.  My arms were beginning to really hurt. I remembered that God had once asked a guys named Moses to do this same thing, and I also remembered that he had some help with the difficult physical task. I left the auditorium in hopes of finding some kind soul out in the lobby who could help me keep my arms raised, or tell me I was crazy and relieve me of my obligation.

That is what I felt like it was.  Yes, it was my choice to obey, and I just as easily could have given up and chalked another one up to the human condition, but I felt like it was very important that I follow through.  This was no small ask, and the weight of it rested heavy on my soul.

I found in the lobby those who had lead us in musical worship, a group of people that I know well and feel very open with.  As I approached them, hands in the air, I opened my mouth and the tears started flowing. "I feel like I am supposed to keep my arms raised for the whole service and it is really starting to hurt!" Without a question or even a hesitation two of them grabbed an arm each and helped me stay obedient. A third came over and said "I saw you and I knew you were supposed to keep them raised all service." This was the kind of confirmation I needed to know that I wasn't just hearing things, that God was for real asking me to do this. And so I endured.

They helped me find a bit more private of a spot in the lobby and they stood by me, holding my arms and praying for me - even wiping my tears and snotty nose when needed. I cried, I cried in pain and I cried for reasons I don't know.  I literally had the thought, "Maybe the Lord spared me from the pains of labor (I had 4 c-sections) because he knew he was going to ask me to endure this pain."

One of those precious sisters that was with me realized that my calling to do this was likely somehow connected to the fact that later on in the service there was going to be a call to engage in the freeing of women who are caught in the horrid black market trade of sex trafficking.  (As some may or may not know a bout a year ago I lead a local campaign, Free|Five, to raise awareness and funds for the battle against human trafficking. This issue and justice for the poor and the oppressed are sort of passions of mine.) I did not know that the service would head this way but they did because they had taken part in the service prior to this one. Once this was revealed the pieces started falling into place for me intellectually and the tears began to flow all the harder as I felt the burden of freedom for the captives.  I just kept thinking, "If I have to endure pain for a short while so that they can have freedom I will do it, I will do it!"

They supported me and walked with me through the pain and the foolishness that onlookers must have thought it was. And finally after about 35 minutes, the service ended and I felt released to put my arms down, ouch.

It was a difficult few minutes as I had to walk the halls of the church gathering my kids and dodging the eyes of people who wanted to ask, "What in the world happened to you?" and "What's wrong?" I had no more make-up on, my eyes burned and my face was red and swollen. Not to mention I had to keep shaking my arms to warm them up and get them back to normal.

I didn't really want to tell anyone.  I was glad to have shared the experience with a few that could support me and help me process if needed, but I didn't (and don't) feel like it was my thing. What happened to me? Somebody [God] just asked "Would you help me with something?" and I said "Sure.".  "What's wrong?" People are bought, sold and treated like animals.  

Some have praised me for my obedience, and I am glad that I was entrusted with the task of partnering with God, but I don't think this experience was about my ability or willingness to obey.  As I have been thinking today, and asking the many questions that yesterday's experience has left me with, I was brought back to that story of Moses.  (For those interested it is found in the Old Testament book of Exodus, Chapter 17.)
To sum it up, the people of God, the Israelites, were under the attack of Amalek. While Moses' arms were raised the Israelite army prevailed, if he ever dropped his hands, they were overtaken. Moses, with the help of his brother and a close friend,  raised his hands to heaven until the Israelites defeated Amalek.  Later on it says that 'the LORD will be at war with Amalek from generation to generation.'

As I thought about this I thought about the absolute evil that exists in the practice of human sex trafficking.  I believe that there is a very real war waging for the freedom of those unjustly caught in it's darkness.  I believe that the LORD will be at war with the darkness that enslaves from generation to generation.  He will continue to call upon his people to fight those battles in many ways. If my part is painfully and foolishly holding my hands to heaven then I will do it. I'll be a fool if it means freedom, for them...and for me.

The Lone Ranger

I like to do things by myself.  I often have the attitude of "if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself." However, today I embarked on an experience that I could not complete on my own.  I had to to have help or I would have failed, and I felt that wasn't an option.  Needing other people is a humbling thing.  Asking people to join you in a not so glamorous endeavor is not easy.  Feeling the fool isn't fun. But obedience is life giving, and participating with others in life giving experiences establishes deep community.  I am thankful for those who helped me, who played the fool with me, and who supported me so I could complete my mission.

But why is it that, even though life is so much more enjoyable a midst other wayfarers, we so often isolate ourselves.  The Lone Ranger was mysterious, but he was 'lone'.  I mean, I 'm sure Silver was lovely, but I'll take some human contact and conversation over the equestrian kind any day. Yet, I so often choose the lonely life.  I don't share my struggles or even triumphs with others.  Maybe it's some attempt at self-protection or false humility, maybe it's easier to stay disengaged. Maybe it's easier to keep to myself so that I am not accountable for follow through (see previous post :) ). Whatever the reason, by having the mindset that the easiest path is the one I walk alone, I miss out on so much life.

Me? Opinionated?

Some of you will laugh at my title.  I am opinionated.  I am not really that reserved when it comes to sharing what I think.  Unfortunately, the desire multiplies when I am being critical of something or someone.  I do need to learn to differentiate between my opinions and my judgmental nature.

One of my strongest 'gifts' is critical evaluation...I made that term up.  But for real, I seem to have a unique ability to look at a situation, event, program, __________ fill in the blank, and identify what is working, what isn't, and how it should be changed to work more effectively and excellently.  Either that or I am a hopelessly critical, know-it-all; which is entirely possible. I hope this is something that I am intended to use for good, and I want to.  However, when it comes to sharing my observations with those who aren't that interested in feedback it leaves me stewing.  I mean, who doesn't want to do whatever they are doing more excellently?! But again, it is only my [not always that] humble opinion.

It is true that the tongue is the hardest to tame, and I really do want to use mine for encouraging and uplifting. I need to choose my words wisely; share my opinions when they are constructive and done so with an appropriate attitude of humility.  Good thing I have a blog so I can vent. ;)

BookWorm

I can't deny it, I love a good book.  I am in the middle of the 'Anne of Green Gables' series and just love how I can get lost in the fun and imagination of a good story.  However,surprisingly, I find myself more fired up and entranced by a good academic study.  I am studying the biblical book of James under the tutelage of the very insightful Beth Moore. I just can't reproduce the stunning feeling of the light bulb going off when I make a connection.  I will resist spewing all the fascinating facts that I learned today, because I wouldn't want to rob you of your light bulb moments if you ever get your chance to uncover them.  Just know that while a good fiction story can warm your heart and even satisfy your soul...there is just nothing like the genius of the way the greatest story ever told is weaved together...how cliche, forgive me...but it is!

Why don't I devour it more consistently? It's so good!

Follow Through

My dad played collegiate basketball and coached at that level as well.  Needless to say, I rarely just 'shot around' in the driveway without at least his voice in my head reminding me to keep my elbow in and to follow through.  I've never been great at follow through.

As I am finding out now, this holds true to more than just my jump shot. I'd much rather concentrate on the launch than the follow through in most things.  My preferences lie in the dreaming and scheming of things.  I'd rather leave the execution and up-keep to others.  I mean I love idea generating, brainstorming, analyzing, logos, plans. But, man, I get bored fast.  Is there a job that just plans things, launches them, and then hands them off, cause that's what I should do.  That, or I should just keep working on my follow through... I hear ya Dad!

To Everything, Turn

'Change' - not a word I have ever been a fan of.  I do like the refreshing feel of freshly changed sheets and a rearranged living room once in a while.  But I work hard to make things work in the way I want them to so they can stay that way.  I like routine, and don't do well with the unexpected or unknown.

Tomorrow Dave's cousin, Scott, who has lived with us since April is packing it up and heading back to Ohio.  It's hard for me to not try to convince him of his 'mistake' of leaving. But I am reminded that he is an adult, and that he has no responsibilities or commitments holding him back from making these kids of freedom laced decisions. But I don't like change, and I don't like good-byes either.  So, I want to put my motherly foot down and spare my actual children the hurt of losing someone they [we] have come to love so much. But I won't. To everything there is a season, and the season of 'guy living in the basement' is over. We'll stand in the driveway waving goodbye and I'll hate change once again. Yet, somehow still wait excitedly to see what change is coming next. Turn, turn, turn...

Front or Back?

A while back I read a story by an author who enjoyed writing at a window that overlooked his yard.  He was, at the time wrestling with a decision; wondering what God wanted him to do. As he looked out that window he saw his children playing in the yard.  He wondered how he would respond if his children asked him if they should play in the front yard or the backyard. (A question much like the one he was asking God.) He chuckled as he realized that he didn't really care where they played.  He just wanted then to play.   He then wondered if this is often how God responds to us when we struggle so hard to make a decision between two good things - really leaving it up to us - as long as we engage.

I am wrestling with one of those decisions. Last night, in fact,  it weighed quite heavy on my mind.  I don't remember mentally writhing over something so much in my adult life. Now, granted it is bigger than, "where do we vacation this year" or "who should I call for coffee" - much bigger.  But I wonder if I am feeling so 'un-led' because He has freed me to decide - and He waits ready to affirm and bless whatever that choice is.  

I don't think the wrestling is over for me. I think the wrestling is good for me, and perhaps God has just not revealed his preference to me yet.  But practicing the arts of listening and waiting are valuable lessons in any situation; I won't rush it...even though I would really like to speed up the process.

Starting Simple

A friend of mine encouraged me to write...everyday, no matter what, whether profound or not, so I have a few minutes and will write.

As some may or may not know I lead a team of abolitionists this last year in a fund and awareness raising project called Free|Five. Our goal was to raise $25000 and to fund 5 rescue operations through the organization International Justice Mission.  We surpassed our goal in 7 months and I was quickly on to another big project: directing the local community theater's summer musical.  I knew after this that there would be no more projects for a while. I had been slowly wrapping up other commitments and felt that I was supposed to have a pretty wide open schedule once school started in late August. Check.

I have to admit that not having a project was difficult for me at first, difficult and wonderful.  I have now settled into a much more laid back season.  I am home most evenings, have my housework done (relatively regularly) by the time the kids are in bed, and have enjoyed relaxed evenings with my husband. It has allowed me one of my many joys as a mother - reading with Tessie each night.  We are nearing the end of the third book in the Little House series "Farmer Boy".  I am inspired by the industrious matriarchs in these books!  I now know how they got so much done everyday...they worked hard!  They were focused and not distracted by time wasters like online shopping and facebook...I mean, uh, what?  They brought their children alongside them and taught them as they worked.  Taught them valuable lessons like how to work hard, how to manage their money, how to work together, how to sacrifice for one another.  They gave them good gifts like these, and tin cups and cows. Wait, what?  Really, I am inspired by their simple lives.  No need to stress about college funds or braces. Just putting in the work to ensure there is enough love and potatoes to go around today. And enough of those things in the cellar to make sure we make it through the winter.

I am beginning to understand why I was led to slow down. To scale back even the things that were "good" so that I could see and appreciate the very simple and precious gifts that are my family and my time. I am no longer looking toward what might be next for me, but learning to spend today - living today...and working diligently at storing up spiritual fruits in the cellar of my soul so that I am prepared and ready for whatever tomorrow might bring.

Resolutions - Blog Style

I'll just be honest: I am disappointed in this blog. I wanted this to be a place where I could share me thoughts, my struggles, my projects -whatever, but it has become a place that I occasionally write about a program I watched, with little reflection or purpose. I don't even watch that much TV?!

 I do have interesting and compelling thoughts. I have wonderful experiences. I have advice to share. And yet I choose to write about television. How safe.

 So my new year blogging resolution is to write more about what is really happening in the 'creative chaos' of my life and mind, and not just hurried ramblings that amount to little more than glorified facebook status updates. To write more honestly and thoughtfully. To not publish everything right away, but to sit with it and mold it until it is a good and accurate reflection of who I really am and what I think and feel.

 I am resolving to dust off my blogging shoes and try again.