wonder

Wonder.

A cause of astonishment or admiration... rapt attention or astonishment at something awesomely mysterious or new to one's experience... miracle. (Merriam Webster)

If I could have a photo of wonder, this would be it. My nephew was enraptured by the tornado-like vortex at the museum.

I have an opportunity every day to live with admiration, astonishment and miracles. All I need to do is open my eyes to the beauty around me, whether it is the glory of autumn leaves or the tenacious clinging of the withered, brown leaves to winter-bare branches. 

I can open my arms to the now-fragile feel of my dad's hug. Once he held me up; now it's my turn.

I can open my ears to the sound of the cardinal or the sound of my voice singing "Jesus Loves Me" to my nephew as he snuggles into bed, thumb in mouth, blankie firmly gripped.

I can open my spirit to the wonder of this: Jesus. Loves. Me.

ichabod

The glory has departed. That's the commonly used translation of Ichabod. God has left the house.

I'm still trying to process Sunday's sermon. Already wondering why I am at this particular house of worship, the pastor chose to use a hammer to crack an egg, as my mom would say.

An exhortation to worship became egregious. We were told to repeat Psalm 107:1 until we believed it - and then stand. We were told that we were offering stale worship, not pleasing to God. Then we were asked, "Why are you here?"

I left devastated. It was all I could do not to leave before the message was finished.

Yesterday I was reassured that God is still speaking to me. I had a strange peace and detachment, as though a door had closed to me, but left me in a place of freedom.

When I look at the church it is gray, lifeless. Ichabod. The glory has departed.

I don't belong.

who's.on.first.

So, who's on first in my life?

I'm thinking it's still so much about me - and not as much about Christ.

Pondering what would happen if I just stopped.

Stopped mentioning the things I do or have done. (Things like, "Yes, I teach accounting," or "I like to run half-marathons" or "I play piano at church" or "I have my MBA from [a top 10 school]").

Am I trying to connect or trying to impress?

What would happen if I just stopped?

Stopped mentioning. Stopped doing.

Would that get Jesus to first place?

Changes have rocked me lately, changes that feel like I'm being pushed aside, like I don't matter. It all ties into my sense of disconnection and that my relationships are non-existent to superficial. I feel simultaneously needed (because people want a good listener) and not (because who looks me in the eye and asks how I'm doing and actually wants to know?)

And the paradox is, despite my desire for connection, the feelings of being pushed aside make me want to pull away. And the dark fear comes that I will not be missed.

And the hope is -  if I do this, if I stop - I will find that Christ is all, Christ is enough.

crave

Leslie hit the nail on the head in her post today. (Top of the Page "The Itch of Loneliness")

I crave connection. Intensely.

There are ways I've tried to satisfy the need. Reaching out to someone I thought could be a friend. Being in a small group. And then, of course, social media - FB and Pinterest. As if collecting "likes" and "reposts" creates connection.

And the need remains. Unfulfilled.

I don't even feel connected at my church home. I've questioned lately why I'm there - is it habit? Or because I play in the worship band? Or simply that I dislike change? How can I be somewhere for eight or nine years and feel like people don't know me?

Who will listen? Who will understand? Lately I've felt - and feelings are perilous and inaccurate gauges - that I am listening while others do all the talking.

Leslie reminded me that there is One who listens.

seeing

I was convinced that the eye doctor was going to tell me there was something seriously wrong with my vision. Simply because I have gloried in autumn colors as never before. The first sign was on an August walk at Big M in the Manistee National Forest.

The radiant leaves lit by our porch light captured my attention on my way to bed.

Stopping to look up on a Saturday run...

And looking down on another Saturday run...

We all want to leave a mark, and the leaves are no exception. They write their signature indelibly on concrete.

I thought this might be one of the last.

Only to discover these bright leaves bravely clinging after the rainy influence caused by Hurricane Sandy.

There was nothing wrong with my eyesight... I think that God is giving me a gift of seeing during the hard days. To remind me that He is Creator and gives me all things to enjoy.

Weeping may last for a night - but joy comes in the morning.

stop

My stop sign took a hit yesterday.

We all have stop signs - resolutions to stop an undesirable behavior and start a better one. I've found that no matter how hard I try or how powerful my willpower, I occasionally run the stop sign (or run it over.) It's then I see the flashing lights in my mind's rear-view mirror.

I could have seen it coming. I could have stopped it. Storm warnings came gradually through the day as things, in my opinion, went awry. Deadline pressures. Covering for an absent co-worker - completing a task for only the second time with a revamped and unfamiliar process. Making an error - not once but twice - on my own report. And at 2 p.m. receiving a not-so-gentle reminder, copying my boss, boss' boss and the sender's boss, about an unfulfilled task.

Stop sign. Slammed to the ground. A hurricane of angry words.

This is what God has been saying to me (He even gave me a picture)...

I've been using James1:19 as my password, "... Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry." Why? It's not just a suggestion - James goes on to write, "because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires." (v. 20) 

"Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent..." (v. 21a) This reads a lot like Ephesians 4:31.

But how to do this? "... [H]umbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you." (v. 21b) What does the word say?

The word says my thoughts connect to my state of heart, oh yes, they do.  Proverbs 23:7, "For as he thinks in his heart, so he is." Ouch. 

The word says my speech flows from my state of heart, "For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of." (Matthew 12:34b)

Do I want to live with an anger-filled heart? No. It's ironic because I've had a deep struggle with a family member's anger. Then why do I choose to ignore my own storm warnings? 

Because I'm not living the thankful Truth. Because I'm not choosing joy.

God always gives me the choice - Truth or lies. His will, or mine, be done. I'm pretty sure that anger comes from a my-will-be-done attitude.

My 30-day challenge to memorize and meditate on Psalm 103 is an opportunity to count joy. There will be serious enemy opposition. If I ignore the storm warnings, I'll end up on the rooftop with floodwaters surrounding. Maybe even lapping around my ankles.

So I will count joy.

Bless the Lord. Joy will follow.