I was never much of a clubber. In my late teens and early twenties, I liked going dancing with my friends on occasion, but my dancing was more entertaining than sexy so I didn't fit in at many venues. Plus, most of them were smoker friendly back then, and drinks cost a hefty fraction of my paycheck. (There weren't many people who wanted to buy a drink for the gal using coffee stirrers as glow sticks during the remix of Ben Folds Five's "Brick" - which, by the way, whose awful idea was that to create a club version of a tragic abortion song? )
Still, heading out with a small group of friends to bust loose on the dance floor usually promised a good time. I lived an hour from Canada, which was a huge draw for teens because the drinking age in this exotic foreign land was 19, as opposed to the U.S.'s 21. I'll be honest: I never took advantage of that fact.
But I did take advantage of how many clubs existed within walking distance of one another in downtown Windsor. You could hop from one to another, only paying a loonie or a toonie to get inside each one, bop about for a bit, judge the gathering as "not my crowd", and move onto the next. I even found a place that played White Stripes, Led Zeppelin, and indie artists that no one reading this remembers like Tahiti 80, and who didn't care that my clubwear was a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that said, "I like math."
I digress. My point was that every place had some kind of entry fee. Maybe they would waive it for things like "ladies night" or "dress like the '70s night" or "bring a canned good for the food pantry night" (I truly hope that last one is a thing), but it still existed. In places like Windsor, where the clubs were competing with their next door neighbors, the fee was lower than the places I visited in downtown Detroit who knew their nearest competition was several blocks over, a walk that would require interacting with fragrant steam emanating from manhole covers and sketchy dudes asking for money in one way or another.
The cover charge was a way to prove you wanted to be there. You were willing to part with some cash for the experience that awaited you within. I figured out fairly quickly which clubs were worth the loonies, the toonies, or the $10. (No further comment on how those currencies compared, since at one point the Canadian dollar was stronger than the U.S. dollar, ruining a lot of our jokes. I've learned.)
This may seem like an odd link, but bear with me. I see this principle in my journey with Christ. Each time I get to another level, He asks if I'm willing to pay the cover charge. Early on, it was pretty cheap. And it was good. But it got progressively more costly. Whereas at first, I might just have to get up 5 minutes earlier so I could have time to pray in the morning, I came to a place where I was giving up life goals in faith He would enhance them - or sometimes change them entirely, which was not what I wanted at the time but totally something I wanted in retrospect. But I've already talked a lot about that, which will save me a tangent.
This got me thinking: Has there been a cover charge I wasn't willing to pay? Because I've seen some of my loved ones stand at the door of an opportunity, looking down at their hand deciding if they want to pay or go home. Or go to a cheaper place. And in this vision - it's a tad cheesy, I admit, but incredibly poignant for me at this point in my life - God is holding His hand out asking if they are willing to explore and surrender their unforgiveness toward their ex. And, like the rich young ruler in the Gospels, they walk away in sorrow because they aren't willing to part with that.
So, again, I ask myself, has there been a cover charge I wasn't willing to pay? And I realize the answer is that there have been, but my Savior's relentless love has always sought me out and drawn the price from a very willing me. There were friendships I didn't want to let go of, and I clung to them; but then they didn't fit into the life I found myself moving toward, and they fell away. There were attitudes of judgment in my marriage, bitterness in my family, and competition in my relationships, and I gathered them tightly to myself because they felt so good in their badness. And then His love. His love. His wild, persistent love and the adventure that awaited me within loosened my grip.
Unlike with so many of those dank, carcinogenic clubs of old, I've never regretted paying a fee.
Have you refused to pay cover at some point? Here's the great news: He's still waiting with open hand, and the adventure is still ready just. for. you. Trust me: The return far outweighs the investment. But you need to hand it over to see what's next.
Showing posts with label sacrifice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sacrifice. Show all posts
10.07.2016
1.07.2016
The Countdown
In less than 48 hours, I will be entering a modified Daniel Fast. There is nothing magical about this type of fast; I think it’s just more accessible for many of us. Because I’m still breastfeeding twin boys several times a day, I’m not going to complicate my life by changing this family’s entire diet for 10 days. That would inevitably turn the fast itself into an idol, as I’d scurry about the kitchen picking my brain and the mass brain of the internet for recipes and nutritional considerations.
To me, it matters less what I’m fasting from and more if I’m holding my commitment as sacred, meeting with Christ in the midst of the self-denial. He knows my heart, and He’s the One who, in Isaiah 58, detailed a preferred fast as one of taking care of others, not being the best at saying no to the offer of a free soy no water chai tea latte at Starbucks.
Matthew 21:28-32 tells the story of two sons, one who promised to do work but did not, and one who said he would not do work but eventually did. I never want to fall into the trap of the first, overcommitting and under-delivering. Earlier in that gospel, in Matthew 5:37, Jesus says to just let your yes or your no stand alone, and I am stingy with my yeses for this reason!
So I’m getting myself into the mindset of fasting, removing things from my kitchen that could entice me: canisters of caffeinated coffee, bottles of cabernet sauvignon, plates of cherry pie. I’m altering my schedule so I need to be more intentional in my activities, so I don’t mindlessly fall into the routine of checking my friends’ status updates on Facebook after I put the kids to bed.
I’m also breathing deeply, asking my loving Daddy to prepare in me a desire to stay the course with my sisters who have also dedicated themselves to this 10-day spiritual excursion. To me, this is one of the most exciting parts of the next week-and-a-half: We’re doing this together. It’s all online, but we’re praying for and encouraging each other as a community. There are few better ways to seal a friendship than through suffering together. This is why my neighbor goes to the VFW every day to drink beer and swap stories with his fellow veterans; this is why the early church was described so romantically in the book of Acts, even though it had a lot of kinks to work out.
But cohesiveness is only one outcome I’m anticipating. I have done various fasts - nothing big, so don’t consider me anything more than a curious novice on this topic. What I can attest to is the indelible and tremendous impact fasting has on one’s spiritual life. Through weekly fasting, I’ve witnessed the restoration of my marriage, an incredible deepening of my relationship with my Creator and Lover of my soul, and a renewed sense of purpose. I’ve had insight into tough decisions, peace in tumultuous life-monsoons, and an unshakeable sense of God’s goodness.
As with tithing, when I’ve emptied myself, the Spirit has filled me up every time, and with more than I’d given up.
I was not raised in a church that practiced fasting. This is not a statement against that church; it was simply not part of its faith tradition. However, my dad and mom decided a few Januarys ago to join me in the Daniel Fast through the church Bob and I were attending. He told me afterward that, once the fast had concluded, he had a significant meeting regarding the missions work they were doing and a stomach-churning, prolonged impasse that had been reached. At the meeting, the Holy Spirit was present and the impasse was not. It was nowhere to be seen. No trace of it.
Stormie Omartian talks about how combining prayer and fasting allows the Spirit access to tear down strongholds in our lives that wouldn’t take place with just prayer. It’s like the demon that couldn’t be cast out by the disciples; Jesus said in Mark 9:29 (at least, in numerous translations) that its eviction required prayer and fasting. And this is what Dad experienced in that meeting. And this is what I’ve experienced through my own times of sacrifice.
Since I wasn’t raised with this discipline, it’s still somewhat daunting every time I step toward it. But I am blessed each time, and I am strengthened in my inner self through this intense flow of energy between leaf and Vine.
I am praying that this time of fasting will empty me of my own plans for 2016 so I can grasp those of the Author. There has been considerable stirring my heart, and I need to relinquish any control I’ve fooled myself into thinking I have. My goal at the end of 10 days? To be less me and more Him. That sounds so churchy, so Christianese, so holier-than-thou, but it’s what I desperately need and crave as I enter into the next phase of ministry to and with others.
In 48 hours, I will be offering my life up to be transformed. I’ll be doing it with others. And I’m solidly, uncontainably geeked.
To me, it matters less what I’m fasting from and more if I’m holding my commitment as sacred, meeting with Christ in the midst of the self-denial. He knows my heart, and He’s the One who, in Isaiah 58, detailed a preferred fast as one of taking care of others, not being the best at saying no to the offer of a free soy no water chai tea latte at Starbucks.
Matthew 21:28-32 tells the story of two sons, one who promised to do work but did not, and one who said he would not do work but eventually did. I never want to fall into the trap of the first, overcommitting and under-delivering. Earlier in that gospel, in Matthew 5:37, Jesus says to just let your yes or your no stand alone, and I am stingy with my yeses for this reason!
So I’m getting myself into the mindset of fasting, removing things from my kitchen that could entice me: canisters of caffeinated coffee, bottles of cabernet sauvignon, plates of cherry pie. I’m altering my schedule so I need to be more intentional in my activities, so I don’t mindlessly fall into the routine of checking my friends’ status updates on Facebook after I put the kids to bed.
I’m also breathing deeply, asking my loving Daddy to prepare in me a desire to stay the course with my sisters who have also dedicated themselves to this 10-day spiritual excursion. To me, this is one of the most exciting parts of the next week-and-a-half: We’re doing this together. It’s all online, but we’re praying for and encouraging each other as a community. There are few better ways to seal a friendship than through suffering together. This is why my neighbor goes to the VFW every day to drink beer and swap stories with his fellow veterans; this is why the early church was described so romantically in the book of Acts, even though it had a lot of kinks to work out.
But cohesiveness is only one outcome I’m anticipating. I have done various fasts - nothing big, so don’t consider me anything more than a curious novice on this topic. What I can attest to is the indelible and tremendous impact fasting has on one’s spiritual life. Through weekly fasting, I’ve witnessed the restoration of my marriage, an incredible deepening of my relationship with my Creator and Lover of my soul, and a renewed sense of purpose. I’ve had insight into tough decisions, peace in tumultuous life-monsoons, and an unshakeable sense of God’s goodness.
As with tithing, when I’ve emptied myself, the Spirit has filled me up every time, and with more than I’d given up.
I was not raised in a church that practiced fasting. This is not a statement against that church; it was simply not part of its faith tradition. However, my dad and mom decided a few Januarys ago to join me in the Daniel Fast through the church Bob and I were attending. He told me afterward that, once the fast had concluded, he had a significant meeting regarding the missions work they were doing and a stomach-churning, prolonged impasse that had been reached. At the meeting, the Holy Spirit was present and the impasse was not. It was nowhere to be seen. No trace of it.
Stormie Omartian talks about how combining prayer and fasting allows the Spirit access to tear down strongholds in our lives that wouldn’t take place with just prayer. It’s like the demon that couldn’t be cast out by the disciples; Jesus said in Mark 9:29 (at least, in numerous translations) that its eviction required prayer and fasting. And this is what Dad experienced in that meeting. And this is what I’ve experienced through my own times of sacrifice.
Since I wasn’t raised with this discipline, it’s still somewhat daunting every time I step toward it. But I am blessed each time, and I am strengthened in my inner self through this intense flow of energy between leaf and Vine.
I am praying that this time of fasting will empty me of my own plans for 2016 so I can grasp those of the Author. There has been considerable stirring my heart, and I need to relinquish any control I’ve fooled myself into thinking I have. My goal at the end of 10 days? To be less me and more Him. That sounds so churchy, so Christianese, so holier-than-thou, but it’s what I desperately need and crave as I enter into the next phase of ministry to and with others.
In 48 hours, I will be offering my life up to be transformed. I’ll be doing it with others. And I’m solidly, uncontainably geeked.
12.11.2015
From the other side of the chrysalis
I've had a few weeks to process the dissolution of our weekly Milkweed Momdays. This past Monday was the first without the Bible study written on my calendar. (To be more accurate, it was written on the calendar, but I crossed it off.)
Through reflections both in solitude and in the safe exploration afforded by the presence of gentle and wise friends, my perspective is widening beyond the sacrifice of my "baby" on that mountain. I'm still grieving the loss of the group, but I've begun to see it more as a change, an apotheosis as opposed to a death.
Here's what I've realized. The Shepherd had been leading me and the members of Milkweed along still waters, instructing us to rest and receive in the cool, plush grass. Many of us were in need of healing, a regrouping in loving, Christ-centered community. One mama told me that she came because, in her words, "I had to." Others agreed with that sentiment, driving incredible distances because they too felt compelled to plunge into the Word and open their souls to one another so as to root down deep into good soil. And we grew up fortified, as Milkweed should be, and we nourished one another and were nourished by our Source.
But that place of respite was not where the Shepherd wanted to leave us. He, who is also the Gardener, wanted to prune us so we could mature and spread.
Had our loving Daddy not nudged me to surrender the group to Him on that pre-Thanksgiving day, it may have stayed as a place of receiving. But Milkweed has always been His project, and He wanted it - wanted us - to stop taking in and start giving out. Now we had the foundation of relationships, accountability, prayer, and study of His Word, which is what disciple-makers need to follow the Great Commission in Matthew 28:18-20. The Spirit kept bringing this passage back to my mind:
~No prolonged infancies among us, please. We’ll not tolerate babes in the woods, small children who are an easy mark for impostors. God wants us to grow up, to know the whole truth and tell it in love—like Christ in everything. We take our lead from Christ, who is the source of everything we do. He keeps us in step with each other. His very breath and blood flow through us, nourishing us so that we will grow up healthy in God, robust in love.~
Ephesians 4:14-16 (MSG)
Here's what is so exciting to me: Since we ended the weekly in-person meeting times, many members have reported they have had opportunities to start meeting with other women, sharing their faith, discipling them, encouraging them in their walks with Jesus. The Shepherd is leading us onward, into the dark valleys, to bring Jesus' light out of the 2-year-olds' room at First Christian Church and into the hearts of the lost and the hurting. YAY GOD!
My dear friends, if you know people who have wandered off from God’s truth, don’t write them off. Go after them. Get them back and you will have rescued precious lives from destruction and prevented an epidemic of wandering away from God.
James 5:19-20 (MSG)
I still don't understand all of this, but I am in awe of what Daddy has revealed thus far. And I am riddled with delicious anxiety for what He is going to do next.
Thank you all for being part of this adventure! The best is yet to come...
~This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?” God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children. And we know we are going to get what’s coming to us—an unbelievable inheritance! We go through exactly what Christ goes through. If we go through the hard times with him, then we’re certainly going to go through the good times with him!~
Romans 8:15-17 (MSG)
Through reflections both in solitude and in the safe exploration afforded by the presence of gentle and wise friends, my perspective is widening beyond the sacrifice of my "baby" on that mountain. I'm still grieving the loss of the group, but I've begun to see it more as a change, an apotheosis as opposed to a death.
Here's what I've realized. The Shepherd had been leading me and the members of Milkweed along still waters, instructing us to rest and receive in the cool, plush grass. Many of us were in need of healing, a regrouping in loving, Christ-centered community. One mama told me that she came because, in her words, "I had to." Others agreed with that sentiment, driving incredible distances because they too felt compelled to plunge into the Word and open their souls to one another so as to root down deep into good soil. And we grew up fortified, as Milkweed should be, and we nourished one another and were nourished by our Source.
But that place of respite was not where the Shepherd wanted to leave us. He, who is also the Gardener, wanted to prune us so we could mature and spread.
Had our loving Daddy not nudged me to surrender the group to Him on that pre-Thanksgiving day, it may have stayed as a place of receiving. But Milkweed has always been His project, and He wanted it - wanted us - to stop taking in and start giving out. Now we had the foundation of relationships, accountability, prayer, and study of His Word, which is what disciple-makers need to follow the Great Commission in Matthew 28:18-20. The Spirit kept bringing this passage back to my mind:
~No prolonged infancies among us, please. We’ll not tolerate babes in the woods, small children who are an easy mark for impostors. God wants us to grow up, to know the whole truth and tell it in love—like Christ in everything. We take our lead from Christ, who is the source of everything we do. He keeps us in step with each other. His very breath and blood flow through us, nourishing us so that we will grow up healthy in God, robust in love.~
Ephesians 4:14-16 (MSG)
Here's what is so exciting to me: Since we ended the weekly in-person meeting times, many members have reported they have had opportunities to start meeting with other women, sharing their faith, discipling them, encouraging them in their walks with Jesus. The Shepherd is leading us onward, into the dark valleys, to bring Jesus' light out of the 2-year-olds' room at First Christian Church and into the hearts of the lost and the hurting. YAY GOD!
My dear friends, if you know people who have wandered off from God’s truth, don’t write them off. Go after them. Get them back and you will have rescued precious lives from destruction and prevented an epidemic of wandering away from God.
James 5:19-20 (MSG)
I still don't understand all of this, but I am in awe of what Daddy has revealed thus far. And I am riddled with delicious anxiety for what He is going to do next.
Thank you all for being part of this adventure! The best is yet to come...
~This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?” God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children. And we know we are going to get what’s coming to us—an unbelievable inheritance! We go through exactly what Christ goes through. If we go through the hard times with him, then we’re certainly going to go through the good times with him!~
Romans 8:15-17 (MSG)
11.22.2015
Cocoons
On November 1 of this year, I wrote in my journal, "I feel like something is about to turn."
The next day, we met for our weekly Milkweed Momday and launched one of our own monarch butterflies, a mama named Jamie, out of our milkweed and into her new adventure.
"How exciting," I mused to my Shepherd. "Now, what's next?"
I felt Him inviting me up a mountain. It looked like a beautiful hike. "Make sure you bring your baby," He told me.
And as I climbed, I realized the baby was none of my three biological kiddos. No, it was the Milkweed group. I was praying over the members, checking in with them, prepping for our time together each Momday, posting to them in our online forum in between groups - what had been His creation had certainly become one of my precious children.
It was then that I realized He was getting ready to do a dramatic reenactment of Abraham and Isaac in Genesis 22, asking me to sacrifice that which I loved so dearly. No worries, I thought, there will certainly be a ram caught in the bushes up ahead.
I invited my prayer pals into the journey, sisters in Christ who have stood with me, holding up my arms and carrying hope through dark seasons, and who have also leapt with me during joyful celebrations. They listened, prayed, counseled, and encouraged me, and I was again reminded of the beauty of authentic, mutual community.
This past weekend, I arrived at the altar. I got ready to surrender Milkweed to Him, then looked around for the ram. There was none. The Shepherd just stood there, arms open, asking if He could have the group. And, with tears in my eyes, I handed it over.
I don't know what is next. What I do know is the peace that I have accomplished what He called me to do in the Bible study/prayer group/play group so many of us have enjoyed. We ladies have entered in pain, confusion, crisis, loneliness; we have abided, cocooned, and most have flown off with their beautiful wings fashioned by the Creator.
And it has been wonderful.
I have peace I can confidently say with Paul:
~I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.~
2 Timothy 4:7
The online Milkweed group will continue, and we'll see what our loving Daddy has in store as we continue to do community virtually!
I'm going to end this difficult goodbye to our Milkweed Momdays with one of my favorite quotes from Pastor Erwin McManus of Mosaic:
~I don't know if you know this about butterflies, but there's a transitional period when they're still in the cocoon, and they don't know they're a butterfly. They think they're a caterpillar. And in that moment it must be incredibly disturbing to realize that you no longer fit in your home. See, a cocoon is a perfect home for a caterpillar, but it's not the right kind of home for a butterfly. And there has to be a moment when that butterfly realizes that it has new appendages that are called wings, and it begins to break out of its cocoon, destroying what once gave it safety and security, that place called "home", so that it could fly and experience life in a way it had never known and would never know as a caterpillar.~
See you on the other side of the cocoon, my friends.
The next day, we met for our weekly Milkweed Momday and launched one of our own monarch butterflies, a mama named Jamie, out of our milkweed and into her new adventure.
"How exciting," I mused to my Shepherd. "Now, what's next?"
I felt Him inviting me up a mountain. It looked like a beautiful hike. "Make sure you bring your baby," He told me.
And as I climbed, I realized the baby was none of my three biological kiddos. No, it was the Milkweed group. I was praying over the members, checking in with them, prepping for our time together each Momday, posting to them in our online forum in between groups - what had been His creation had certainly become one of my precious children.
It was then that I realized He was getting ready to do a dramatic reenactment of Abraham and Isaac in Genesis 22, asking me to sacrifice that which I loved so dearly. No worries, I thought, there will certainly be a ram caught in the bushes up ahead.
I invited my prayer pals into the journey, sisters in Christ who have stood with me, holding up my arms and carrying hope through dark seasons, and who have also leapt with me during joyful celebrations. They listened, prayed, counseled, and encouraged me, and I was again reminded of the beauty of authentic, mutual community.
This past weekend, I arrived at the altar. I got ready to surrender Milkweed to Him, then looked around for the ram. There was none. The Shepherd just stood there, arms open, asking if He could have the group. And, with tears in my eyes, I handed it over.
I don't know what is next. What I do know is the peace that I have accomplished what He called me to do in the Bible study/prayer group/play group so many of us have enjoyed. We ladies have entered in pain, confusion, crisis, loneliness; we have abided, cocooned, and most have flown off with their beautiful wings fashioned by the Creator.
And it has been wonderful.
I have peace I can confidently say with Paul:
~I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.~
2 Timothy 4:7
The online Milkweed group will continue, and we'll see what our loving Daddy has in store as we continue to do community virtually!
I'm going to end this difficult goodbye to our Milkweed Momdays with one of my favorite quotes from Pastor Erwin McManus of Mosaic:
~I don't know if you know this about butterflies, but there's a transitional period when they're still in the cocoon, and they don't know they're a butterfly. They think they're a caterpillar. And in that moment it must be incredibly disturbing to realize that you no longer fit in your home. See, a cocoon is a perfect home for a caterpillar, but it's not the right kind of home for a butterfly. And there has to be a moment when that butterfly realizes that it has new appendages that are called wings, and it begins to break out of its cocoon, destroying what once gave it safety and security, that place called "home", so that it could fly and experience life in a way it had never known and would never know as a caterpillar.~
See you on the other side of the cocoon, my friends.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)