Reflections from My Journal

Monday, June 16, 2008

Yesterday was Father’s Day and Daddy’s birthday. Late last week I’d had a dream about the song “You Are My Sunshine,” and then it was on “A Prairie Home Companion” Saturday evening. Daddy used to sing it to me when I was a child. As I thought about it, I don’t remember either of my parents telling me that they loved me, but I certainly felt loved and know that I was. I think that Daddy, who wasn’t at all a singer, sang that song to me because he didn’t have the words to convey the deep feelings of love he had for me. I miss him terribly and wish I could relive some of the tender moments I shared with him when I was a child.

Today in The Jesus Way Eugene Peterson had some interesting things to say about classes and programs. I don’t know that I understand it well enough to condense it, but it was about why classes and programs most often don’t make disciples, although they are very good at forming correct thinking and right behavior. The problem is that one can think correctly and behave rightly, but still live badly – impersonally and selfishly. I’m not finished with his discussion of the topic, but I’m hoping that it will give me some discernment into these matters.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Peterson is making me think again. For all the words that are in this book, he still has the ability to take a great thought and crystallize it in a few simple words. Like this: “…for sin is basically a depersonalizing word or act. It is not in essence, breaking a rule, but breaking a relationship.” Then he goes on to say that

Sin is a refused relationship with God that spills over into a wrong relationship with others – it is personal or it is nothing. Immorality and crime, on the other hand, are violations of rules or standards of the society, or violations of other people. Behavior is in question, not personal character. Bit sin is personal.

That must be why David said to God, “Against you and you only have I sinned,” when he had clearly sinned against Uriah and his wife. A few weeks ago I was talking with someone about judgmentalism, and I pointed out some instances when he had ranted and raved against those who did not live up to his standards of conduct. Then I said, “But when I see that, I’m just sad, and I think, They wouldn’t act like that if they knew God better.”

I once thought that it was the difference between obeying rules and obeying God, but that isn’t it. The difference is between obeying rules and loving God.

Over the past three or four decades the church has not done a great job of knowing nothing except Jesus Christ and him crucified. We have done a really good job of classes and programs, but in focusing on those things and on outward behavior, we’ve shot ourselves in the foot.

I’m amazed that we have missed this. So is Peterson:

There is much naiveté regarding sin in Christian communities. For a people whose text for living is the Bible, a book in which all have sinned” (Rom 3:23) is documented on virtually every page, this is an enormous irony. We settle for conventional appearances or reforming campaigns, neither of which is conspicuous for insight or discernment in the subtleties of sin as it works its way among us. We quit being diagnosticians of the soul and instead develop programs – educational, political, economic programs – all of which can be done (and often are done) without taking on the strenuous and personally involving relationships of love.

I think that the church has recognized this and has tried to correct it. But she has concentrated on – and settled on – trying to get people to build friendships with one another. But if sin is first of all a refused relationship with God, then a relationship with God is what needs to be built. And just as a refused relationship with God spills over into a wrong relationship with others, so love for God spills over into a right relationship with others – it is personal or it is nothing!

Lord, thank you for this thinking this morning and for Peterson’s book. I stand amazed at how those who seek you in your word so often have the same thoughts. There are so many places where we can get off track, but your Spirit truly leads us into truth and unity. Peterson is a deeper thinker than I am and a better writer – not to mention smarter and much more educated – yet you teach both of us, and I am grateful. It calls this to mind:

No longer will a man teach his neighbor, or a man his brother, saying, “Know the Lord,” because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest.

I suppose that won’t be entirely so until “we all get to heaven,” and yet, in part, it is coming true in this life, and I praise you and give you all glory and thanks.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

This morning, Father, I’d like to just rest and read and write and think and pray. Be with me as I do; guide me; give me wisdom and discernment and understanding. Draw me closer and closer to you that I may know Christ and live in him.

Today in The Quaker Reader, which I bought at the library several years ago, Jessamyn West said that the Quaker motto is “Love God and do what you please.” That pretty much sums up what I believe about living a life of discipleship. I can’t accept Quaker refusal to obey your word concerning baptism and the Lord’s Supper, but none of us is completely right, and there is much for me to learn from the Quakers. Please be with me as I read this book to teach me and to build me up.

I’ve finished the journal I have been reading from the fall of 2007, and I discovered that my main focus then is the same one that I have set for myself now for Lent – to seek God, to know Christ, to practice the Presence, to live under the control of the Spirit’s guidance. I go in and out of practicing these things.

Yesterday I was visiting with a young person who is struggling with the decision about which direction he should take with his life. He’s thinking about going into missions, because he’s afraid that if he isn’t in ministry, he won’t have the discipline and steadfastness to be faithful in his relationship with God. I said that I think it is harder for people in ministry to maintain their closeness to God, because they are under so much pressure to perform. In the journal I had been reading, I quoted Dallas Willard on this very matter. It is something I struggle with constantly.

Ministry can so quickly become more important than intimacy with God. I’ve very involved with ministry right now, so maybe the thing for me to do is to put ministry on the back burner and let it simmer for a while so I can turn my attention to loving God. “Love God and do what you please.” I guess that applies here as it does in everything else.

I do love you, and I want to live gently and serenely in you presence. When my mind wanders, return it to you until it is firmly stayed on Thee. I love you and desire to live this day to your glory. Be my strength and my vision. Amen.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

In Bread and Wine this morning Soren Kierkegaard has this to say:

Christ came into the world with the purpose of saving, not instructing it. At the same time – as is implied in his saving work – he came to be the pattern, to leave footprints for the person who would join him, who would become a follower….It is not adherents of a teaching but followers of a life Christ is looking for.

I keep coming across this idea – in my journals, in books, and in articles and sermons I’ve read. For a couple of weeks The Lookout and The Christian Standard have had issues about discipleship and spiritual formation. For the most part the authors have had good things to say on the subjects. J.K. Jones has written a book about monks as mentors. Peterson, Willard and others are writing books on following Jesus in his way. And how to train people in seeking and loving God and discipleship is much on my mind.

How do we do it? What do we have to do to help people make that transition – that change of mind – from acting a certain way to living the life of Christ, in him and to his glory?

One author said that it is essential to have a spiritual friend; another talked about a spiritual guide. Most of them at least mentioned being in a group where Scripture is applied to one’s daily life. Jones said that dead monks and nuns have been his mentors.

When I look at my own life, I see that each of those have been important to me, but the most important, if I’m honest, has been the vast amounts of time I’ve spent here thinking and praying and meditating and listening. Second has been the books – some of them written by dead monks and nuns – I’ve read and reread and thought about. Third – a close third, but third nonetheless – was talking things over with my spiritual friend who has kept me on track and helped me to sort through my random thoughts to find truth in them. Fourth, for me, has been the various discipleship groups and small Bible studies that I have been a part of over the years.

So I wonder why, since the most important thing for me is to spend lots of time thinking and praying and meditating and listening to God, none of the authors in the two magazines have mentioned it. Maybe they think it’s a waste of time and breath – or, in this case, ink – because very few people take to it. So we are left, still, with the outward acts. But spiritual maturity – discipleship – is essentially an inward being, and it is living – outwardly – who we are inside.

It seems a simple thing to keep our eyes on Jesus, deny ourselves, take up our cross and follow him, yet we discount it. We come right up to it, then slip off of it to chase just about anything else. So what is the key? There must be a key! And how do we find it?

Kierkegaard again:

What then, is the difference between an admirer and a follower? A follower is or strives to be what he admires. An admirer, however, keeps himself personally detached. He fails to see [that] what is admired involves a claim upon him, and thus he fails to be or strive to be what he admires.

It’s not so much “What Would Jesus Do?” It’s more Who is Jesus? What is he like? How can I become like him? Not How can I act like Jesus, but how can I be conformed – molded and shaped by God – to his likeness?

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Today I read Matthew 25, and spent some time thinking about a few notes that I had written in the margins, particularly in commenting on “The Sheep and the Goats.” The King in the parable tells the sheep that when he was hungry and thirsty and a stranger and needing clothes and sick and in prison, they came to him and ministered to his needs. They ask him, “When did that happen?” Then he tells the goats that when he was hungry and thirsty and a stranger and needing clothes and sick and in prison, they did not look after his needs. They likewise ask, “When did we not help you?”

Next to the sheep’s questions, I have written, “They didn’t notice they were ministering to Jesus, because it was the natural thing for them to do.” And next to the goats’ question, I have written, “They didn’t notice those in need, because they were so wrapped up in themselves.” And at the top of the page there is a quotation form Martin Luther:

The sun is not obliged to shine; it does so naturally. Three and seven are not obliged to make ten; they do so in any case. So, faith is not obliged to do good works; if it is faith, it simply does them.

I think it all goes back to that Quaker motto: “Love God and do what you please.” Where is my heart? If it is loving God, if it is set on things above, it will lead me to do what pleases God and brings him glory, whether I notice it or not.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

In reading my journal from September, 2007, I came across an entry in which I was dealing with the same things I’m dealing with now – which isn’t at all surprising, because I’m nearly always dealing with them. Then it was busyness; now it is lack of discipline.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

I’m reading Concerning the Inner Life by Evelyn Underhill. She says,

Now if you are to convey that spiritual certitude, it is plain that you must yourselves be spiritually alive. And to be spiritually alive means to be growing and changing; not to settle down among a series of systematized beliefs and duties, but to endure and go on enduring the strains, conflicts and difficulties incident to development. “The soul,” said Baron von Hugel, “is a force or an Energy: and Holiness is the growth of that energy in love, in full Being, in creative, spiritual Personality.” One chief object of personal religion is the promoting of that growth of the soul; the wise feeding and training of it. However busy we may be, however mature and efficient we may seem, that growth, if we are real Christians, must go on.”

This is just what I need to hear right now. I have been too busy, too many morning appointments, too much on my mind. I need to go back to the center of my life, my inner self, to be in touch again with God. I need books like this one to help me, and I need to take control of my schedule again and refuse those morning appointments.

I’ve been thinking about W again this morning and what I would say to her if I ever get the chance. I would say that we always do the things that are most important to us regardless of what we think or say the important things are. So the truth is that I have chosen to let my priorities do a flip-flop again. I have chosen to let ministry and other people’s lives and schedules rise in importance over my own relationship and intimacy with God.

Please forgive me, Father. This isn’t what I want for my life. But I have allowed busyness to take control of my schedule. Work in me to will and to act according to your good purpose. Cleanse me from this desire to perform and to please and to live up to others’ expectations. Help me to keep my eyes on Jesus, my heart and mind on things above. Give me grace to slow down and calm down and to still and quiet my soul. Fill me with a fresh desire to know you and to live in close communion with the Creator of Heaven and Earth, the Savior of my soul. Amen.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

I picked up Dallas Willard’s The Great Omission again this morning. I had read part of it before and then lent it to someone. It’s just right for me to read it now, because it addresses what I’ve been thinking about from Hebrews 3-6.

I’ve been thinking about faith, obedience, knowledge and how they relate to one another and work together in the disciple’s life. And I’ve been thinking about milk and solid food and which is which; why I don’t know “nothing except Jesus Christ and him crucified”; and how I can figure out if what I’m doing is actually designed to “make disciples” – or not. I think Willard can help me with it:

In the heart of a disciple there is a desire, and there is a decision or settled intent. Having come to some understanding of what it means, and thus having “counted up the costs,” the disciple of Christ desires above all else to be like him….”Given this desire, usually produced by the lives and words of those already in the Way, there is still a decision to be made: The decision to devote oneself to becoming like Christ. The disciple is one who, intent on becoming Christ-like and so dwelling in his “faith and practice,” systematically and progressively rearranges his affairs to that end. By these decisions and actions, even today, one enrolls in Christ’s training, becomes his pupil or disciple. There is no other way. We must keep this in mind should we, as disciples, decide to make disciples.

I’m really thinking about all this on two levels, constantly jumping back and forth: 1. my own pursuit of discipleship and 2. making disciples. And I find that the thing that most frustrates me in the process of disciple-making is the very thing that impedes my own progress: making and keeping the decision to become more and more like Christ.

I – and they – want to grow; we feel God’s call to grow; we may even make the decision to take steps to grow, but we don’t follow through to rearrange our affairs to that end. Instead, we become more and more involved in busyness and a “shallow” discipleship, which makes it even harder for us to apply ourselves to grow in Christ.

Willard goes on to say, “In contrast, no disciple… has something ‘more important’ to do or undertake than to become like Jesus Christ.”

This brings me back to what I was thinking about last Thursday. I wrote this in answer to some questions in Living the Questions in John:

We choose the thing that is most important to us, which is proven by the fact that we have chosen it. If it turns out that the thing we chose is not the most important, it still stands that the reason we chose it has made it the most important thing.

If we always choose what is most important to us, it stands to reason that how we choose is who we are, which is why it is so sad when we choose the way of the world or the way of ourselves rather than the way of Christ.

I think that the progression of what I choose, how I make choices, and my motives for choosing what I do is an indication of my growth or lack of growth in faith and knowledge.

So, somehow – I don’t really understand the process – this brings me to Hebrews 6:12: “We do not want you to become lazy, but to imitate those who through faith and patience inherit what has been promised.” I want to be on the lookout for those people and to humble myself to imitate them, to submit myself to learn from their teaching. But realistically, I also admit that because of my ministry, others are looking to me for an example to follow. I can’t really dwell on that too much – it’s just not good for me – but I can’t completely ignore it either.

Lately I’ve been coming to understand that what I say or write or teach is much less effective in leading others to Christ than who I am. And that brings me back to milk and solid food.

I can’t imitate Christ if I don’t know him. And it is true that the word of God is living and active and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness. So this is my plan: To memorize Hebrews 7-10, the chapters about Jesus’ position and work as High Priest of the New Covenant; to think about what I am memorizing, to let it sink in, nourish me and change me from the inside out. I pray that you will use this for my good and also for the good of those you bring into my way, the ones who love you and who are called according to your purpose.

REFLECTIONS ON THE CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

(This reflection is on Richard Foster’s book Streams of Living Water: Celebrating the Great Traditions of Christian Faith.)

I’m reading about the contemplative life – the life of prayer and of practicing the presence of God. I so much want to follow Jesus in this way – getting up early to pray, times of solitude and silence, seeking God, receiving guidance and following it. Work inside of me a longing to experience your presence. Teach me how to do it, even when my life gets busy.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

I just finished Foster’s account of Frank Laubach’s life. It stirs my soul. Frank Laubach always does.

I want to be like him. I want to be an open pipe through which your love and grace freely flow. This afternoon I’m going to the girls’ school to listen to kids read. Fill me with your grace to be an open conduit to the mind and heart of each child.

(While serving as a missionary in the Philippines, Laubach spent long periods of time separated from his wife and child. During those times he “experimented” with being constantly aware of God and with placing himself under God’s control. He recorded his experiences in his journal and letters.)

Once Laubach experimented with prayer while playing tennis:

I tried to put my arm in Thy control and my playing improved so much that instead of losing, I won. I tried to put my opponent’s arm under Thy control and believe he did better.

That’s astounding! I wonder what would happen if I tried to put a child’s mind and eyes and tongue under your control as he read. Would he actually read better? Would he comprehend better? Would he remember? Would he enjoy it more? Would he learn from the story lessons that would serve him all his life? What if I tried that today – What would happen?

Foster says “the contemplative life is the steady gaze of the soul upon the God who loves us.” I am so far from that. Even though my heart burns to know that intimacy with you, I am far from it. So I pray, Father, that you will teach me to seek you with all my heart, that you will reveal yourself to me. Teach me to be aware, to experience your presence. Today. Start today. I hunger for you.

Thursday, November 29, 2009

There are a few things about the contemplative life that stand out for me:

1. Laubach started in failure, depression, illness, disappointment and loneliness, and he sought companionship with God in silence, solitude and a resolve to see him and trust him.

2. Laubach “experimented” with prayer and with practicing God’s presence. He took note of the results of his experiences.

3. The contemplative life is not just prayer, it is work-and-prayer. It is prayer both prayed and lived out in daily life.

4. The contemplative life is based on God’s love for me and grows in my love for God.

5. Six of the people who have most affected my spiritual life are in Foster’s list of Notable Figures of the Contemplative Tradition: Brother Lawrence, Francois Fenelone, Evelyn Underhill, Frank Laubach, Thomas Kelly, and Henri Nouwen.

Foster says, “We need habitual reminders that the Christian life comes not by gritting our teeth but by falling in love.” That encourages me, because I’m always losing it, no matter how much my heart wants it, and I have to keep coming back to it.

Saturday, December 1, 2007

In spite of all the busyness of this time of year, I am still focused on seeking God and on practicing his presence. If I can keep my focus this month, I should be able to keep it anytime – which isn’t to say that I will. I want to learn to pray for someone as I sit beside her, hold her in prayer as I visit, as I listen, as I think of her. I want to learn that “steady gaze,” looking at Christ until I know how He sustains all things, how he holds them together by his powerful word. I want to learn to see the image of God whenever I look at someone and respect it, honor it in that person. I want to know Christ and be transformed by the renewing of my mind.

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

I keep thinking about Frank Laubach Every evening he climbed Signal Hill to seek “companionship with God.” And what a change it made in him, and how powerfully God worked in him and through him to the benefit of millions of people.

My aspirations aren’t nearly that high, but I do what to experience companionship with God, and I do want to be used by him to do whatever work he has for me to do. “I do nothing,“ Laubach says, “that I can see excepting to pray for them, and to walk among them thinking of God.”

I want to be like that, Father. I want to practice today. May I have abundant, amazing grace that is sufficient for me to do it. May I forget myself as I go through this day, thinking of you – having my mind and heart set on things above – and praying gently and unceasingly for the ones you put in my way. Teach me to be aware of your presence each minute of this day – as I study, as I work, as I teach and minister and listen, as I knit, and as I rest. Be always in my thoughts. Be in my mind. Don’t let me forget what I truly want, what I pray for, my heart’s desire: to know Christ and power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his suffering, becoming like him in his death.

Thursday, December 27, 2009

We had a wet snow last night, maybe a couple of inches, and every bough and branch and twig is highlighted in purity – beautiful and serene. What a joy first thing in the morning! Thank you.

I’m nearly finished with Streams of Living Water. It’s been good to read it again.

Of the seven streams, I see myself most in the first – the contemplative stream – and the last – the incarnational stream – but the first is the one I most practice.

The streams are:

1. The contemplative Tradition: The Prayer-Filled Life

2. The Holiness Tradition: The Virtuous Life

3. The Charismatic Tradition: The Spirit-Empowered Life

4. The Social Justice Tradition: The Compassionate Life

5. The Evangelical Tradition: The Word-Centered Life

6. The Incarnational Tradition: The Sacramental Life

I see myself in each of them, but least in the evangelical tradition, which is the tradition with which I worship and serve and in which I was raised. I find that strange. I wonder how it could have happened and why.

At first I thought it was because of the books I read, but I am drawn to these books because they appeal to some longing deep inside of me. I concluded that it is because of who I am – how God made me.

That brings me to why. Why would God set a person such as me in this tradition? The most obvious answer is that I need to remember and learn and know the principles of the word-centered life. But I believe that I also have something to offer – a different viewpoint. I put the stress on a different syllable, and that changes the meaning a little bit. It moves the focus away from outwardness – doing things – and onto inwardness – being someone; away from the work that must be done and onto the Lord of the work; away from rules to obey and onto the King who reigns.

WINTER REFLECTIONS

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

It snowed a little yesterday morning, and turned cold last night. Just yesterday, as I was waking up, I was thinking that I haven’t had enough of winter yet. I’m grateful for the cold and the snow, and I praise you, Lord of sun and storm.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

It’s cold! Minus 10 with wind chill to -35. Schools are closed because of it, which is good. It’s dangerously cold. My car doors freeze and once they are opened, the locks are frozen and won’t latch, so I’m hoping that I won’t have to go out today. It’s supposed to get to plus 20 later tomorrow.

It all makes me glad. I’m sorry for the inconvenience it causes many people and for those – like Alan – who have to drive in it, and those – like Dale – who have to work in it, and I pray for them. But personally, it makes me glad and thankful – for the cold, for winter, for the sunshine bright on the snow, for warm clothes and boots and hats and mittens, for the furnace that keeps our home warm and the power that keeps it running, and for those – like Tommy – who are faithful to see that the power gets to us, for blankets and quilts and afghans and scarves. I’m glad and thankful, and I praise the One who provides it all.

William Cooper, who preached in Boston in the 1700s, agrees with my thanksgiving:

Let us learn our obligation to thankfulness; for warm houses, clothes, and beds; for comfortable food and fuel, to relieve us against the rigor of the cold!

It’s a good day to just settle in with my knitting.

Monday, January 26, 2009

We got about three inches of snow yesterday, and the forecast is for two to four inches tomorrow. It’s really pretty, not much wind, so there’s still snow in the trees. I don’t know why, but snow brings me joy and peace. I’ve always believed that a snow storm should be celebrated. I am very thankful.

Lord of wind and calm, I acknowledge you in all my ways and in the dark, cloudy sky, the snow, the cold, in the warmth and peace of our home. You are God!

He giveth snow like wool: he scattered the hoarfrost like ashes. He casteth forth his ice like morsels: who can stand before his cold? He sendeth out his word, and melteth them: he causeth his wind to blow, and the waters flow.

                                                                                    Psalm 147:16-18 (KJV)

Sunday, February 1, 2009

The snow is all but gone, and the sunrise was beautiful. It was just what I needed this morning to quiet my soul.

Tuesday, February 4, 2009

Yesterday I got books in the mail. One of them is Winter: A Spiritual Biography of the Season. On the dust jacket is this from Donald Hall:

Some of us…are darkness-lovers. We do not dislike the early and late daylight of June, whippoorwill’s gray time, but we cherish the gradually increasing dark of November, which we wrap around ourselves in the prosperous warmth of the woodstove, oil, electric blanket, storm window, and insulation. We are partly tuber, partly bear. Inside our warmth we fold ourselves in the dark and its cold – around us, outside us, safely away from us; we tuck ourselves up in the long sleep and comfort of cold’s opposite, warming ourselves by the thought of the cold, lighting ourselves by darkness’s idea.

I wouldn’t describe myself as a “darkness-lover,” but this quotation is what I’ve been trying to express all winter. I’m reading another book, but I want to read at least some of this one before spring breaks.

Monday, February 9, 2009

I love Kathleen Norris’s thoughts today in Winter. This is from Cloister Walk, which I want to read again.

Maybe because it’s the heart of winter, and the air is so cold that it hurts to breathe, the image of the sword from Luke’s gospel comes to mind as I walk back home after vespers. We’ve heard it twice today, at morning prayer and at Mass. I wonder if Mary is the mother of lectio, because as she pondered her life and the life of her son, she kept Simeon’s hard prophecy in her heart. So much that came easily in the fall has become a struggle this winter. I still walk to morning prayer – it seems necessary to do – but it requires more effort now. Still I know that it is nothing that I do that matters, but what I am, what I will become. Maybe Mary’s story, and this feast, tell us that if the scriptures don’t sometimes pierce us like a sword, we’re not paying close enough attention.

Thank you for this, Father. May Scripture pierce me like a sword today, even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow. May it judge the thoughts and attitudes of my heart.

REFLECTIONS ON CALVIN MILLER’S the path of CELTIC PRAYER: An Ancient Way to Everyday Joy

“There is but a thin line that separates the devotional reading of and the praying of Scriptures.  When the heart adores Christ as it reads the Bible, it transcends the act of repeating mere words.  When we read the Bible while fixed on Christ, it becomes an act of adoration.  Our reading then becomes prayer.”
                                                                                                         Calvin Miller

I love this from Miller, because it puts into beautiful words what I often experience, especially with passages I have memorized.  There is a transcendence involved that goes beyond the act of reading.  Reading becomes worship, becomes supplication, becomes submission, becomes confession.  Even though it may not be worded as a prayer, reading becomes a two-way communication with the God of the universe – his word to me; myself to him.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Today in Celtic Prayer Miller discusses long, wandering prayer – unceasing prayer, pilgrimage praying.  It spoke to my heart. 

I often think of my life as a pilgrimage, and I refer to this book as a journal rather than a diary, because it is a record of my life’s journey.  What he says about living constantly in God’s presence, life as prayer, and following Jesus as what we do as we walk through our days is very much what I have been learning lately – not that the concept was new to me.  It’s also very much what I have been stressing in my teaching lately, trying to find some way to make it real to people.  I don’t know that I’ve succeeded, or that Miller does any better.  If I wasn’t already pursuing it, I’m not sure that he would have gotten through to me.

The Christian life is not something we do, it’s how we live.  Following Jesus is simply and naturally being – minute by minute, day in and day out – who we are in Christ, who we are becoming by God’s grace and the renewing of our minds.

Friday, January 16, 2009

I was looking forward to having the day off.  Now I find that I’ll be busy and with people all day, but I know you are Lord over time and circumstances.  Today Miller tells me this:

“But even more than his prayers for his own longevity, Patrick passionately desired that his work for Christ would live on in the lives of others who would take the gospel from Ireland to Scotland and then to all of Europe.”
                                                                                                    Calvin Miller

So my prayer is that the message you have given me and worked in me will live long after I cease to live it and proclaim it, that it will continue to live in the lives of those you have brought to me over the years, and that it will grow and expand and become refined in their lives as the work you have begun in each of them is carried on to completion.  May each one be salt and light, seasoning and illuminating the world around them.

Monday, January 19, 2009

The last chapter in Celtic Prayer is on confession, which Miller says has three steps:

1. A desperate longing for God.
2. Agreeing with God that our sin is sin.
3. Serving God in the world.

Father, only you know fully the desperate longing of my heart, soul and spirit for you.  Sometimes I fear it will consume me and there will be nothing left but one, big pulsing desire for the holy, almighty God.

And sometimes, like yesterday, I see my life as continual and continuous service.  I see every movement I make, every word I say, every thought that comes into my mind as unto you, as loving you.

It’s number two that I’m not so sure about, so I ask you to help me to see where my sin is.  Where am I lacking in humility?  Where is my sin?  Where am I not resting and trusting.  How am I not following the leading of your Spirit?  Please help me to look at my intentions and my motives and to judge them.  Help me to see myself as you see me.

Father, I just want people to know you, to seek you, to love you, to have a vibrant, vital relationship with you through your word, to please you and to bring you glory as they live their lives in Christ.  Most people I know “want to achieve power in prayer (they want a vibrant, abundant life in Christ)…[but] what is often lacking is a genuine passion [for] God for the sake of union with Christ” (Miller again).

I guess I’m still trying to figure out what your purpose and will are for me this year.  I would like to just read and knit and practice your presence, spending lots of time here in quietness and trust, but I’m going in circles.  I trust you, though, to help me as I continue to open myself to the probing of your Spirit.