Bringing Faith to Life
Posts tagged Spirit
Stretch to strengthen: pain of a healing sort
01 year
by wlebolt
in Body, Call to Action, church, Deeper Sensation, faith, In Action, Made to Move, prayer, witness, writing
No one really wants to be stretched. At least not too far, and definitely not when the stretching goes beyond what feels comfortable.
There’s just a certain out-of-control-feeling when someone is pulling you and you don’t know how far they will go, or even if they will stop. If you have ever had physical therapy after an injury or surgery, you know exactly what I’m describing. It’s painful but it’s pain of a healing sort. It helps recover your range of motion, and once you have that, the strengthening can begin. Then you’re on the road to return to action.
While there lots of ways to strengthen — exercise machines, dumbbells, pulleys, weights — it’s likely that when you earn your discharge from the PT gym you’ll be sent home with a lovely parting gift called a resistance band. It’s meant to be your home exercise companion. And it comes with a wonderful secret: When you stretch it, it strengthens you.
I know that sounds a bit counterintuitive, but it’s true. When you pull, it resists, gently. As you pull harder, it stretches, slowly. The harder you pull, the more it stretches and the more that strengthens you. This feels very much like life these days and, to me, very much like the life of faith. Body and soul engaged in a give-and-take which feels very much like exercise.
Apparently, my approach is a bit atypical. While most faith-folk tend to start with the soul and then invite the body along, when I begin with body, my soul always comes along for the joy ride. *
Try for yourself. Here’s a simple prayer routine using the “exercise” band and the words to the praise song, Spirit of the Living God. My daughter Stephanie’s lovely voice accompanies me.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mse98SpD1v4]
The movement is prayer. The words are prayer. The music is prayer.
But even better, even after the prayer-exercise is done, the sensation of prayer remains… in the body! The muscles that moved the band — the effort, the stretch, the exertion of prayer — reverberate and reiterate: melt me, mold me, fill me, use me. Literally, the prayer is still there.
This is too good to be true, right? Try it again. Become aware of the energy, the symbiosis, the connection of stretch to strengthen. Let your body prayer become fluid, flowing one motion into the next. Body and soul, together. Who could conceive of something so powerful and yet so simple?
*My thanks to the folks at the Upper Room for honoring my unusual approach and inviting me to join them to lead worship at SOULfeast 2013.
a sign, a story and a stay-at-home time
1I guess you could call it a sign of the times.
It all started with sidewalk chalk, well actually not. But that was the idea we had. Hopscotch and curlicues drawn along the sidewalk, encouraging passersby to kick up their heels and play.
But this wasn’t what was in the package when our order arrived. Our new chalk was not of the sidewalk variety, it was of the chalkboard variety. “Dustless chalk!” it proclaimed, being of the modern day kind. One box: rainbow, one box: white; perfect for restaurants announcing daily specials to hungry would-be customers strolling on by.
Well, why not? I thought as I ordered such a sign. Not too big — didn’t want to trip people up — but big enough for people to read as they happen by. A few words. Just for fun. As we all take to the streets for our daily amble, pedal, jog or dog-walking excursion.
As all of us stuck in stay-at-home were having trouble keeping track of which day it was, the first sign idea was born. I wrote, “It’s Monday, you’re welcome” and set it on the small table in the front mulch bed. Please excuse the poor chalksmanship and drab color. We had low expectations.
But, wouldn’t you know? When I shared it on Facebook, folks liked it. (Apparently, others were having trouble deciding what day it was, too!) So, inspired and emboldened by Monday, I erased Monday’s for Tuesday’s. And Tuesday’s for Wednesday’s.
And that’s when it became a group effort. Our daughter (who is corona-stranded here with us) suggested “No whining Wednesday, but wining is okay.” And, she suggested, I might illustrate with a little wine glass by the wining, for those who might not be up on their homonyms.
So now this writer started ILLUSTRATING her words. Thankfully, chalk is a VERY forgiving medium. Passersby, being neighborly, kindly tolerated — heck, they even seemed to approve of my kindergarten drawing skills!
So “No Whining Wednesday” became “Thoughtful Thursday.” It was, after all, Maundy Thursday, the day we sit at table for the Last Supper with the one bound to save us. And then we were on to “Good Friday, neighbors.” That day we even received appreciative fan mail on an index card left by the sign.
This was getting serious. The bar was raising as increasing appreciation meant greater expectation. Sober Saturday, though it felt that way to me, didn’t seem encouraging enough, so now I had reached the second stage of sign-making: editing. I drew a line through Sober and wrote Silly, leaving the reader free to decide which their Saturday was. Who, really, was I to say?
But then came Sunday. Easter Sunday. “Serene Sunday,” the sign said. But was it? Certainly like no other Easter ever. All of us separated, one from the other, listening, watching, wishing, sending… Everywhere people were piping in Easter, but it didn’t feel like one.
But the sign proclaimed it anyway; this blank slate of an accidental chalk ordering had actually come to communal life. People riding slowed to catch today’s message. People doubled back to be sure they hadn’t missed it. One neighbor told me she drove out of her way on the way to work just to be encouraged by it.
What in the world? Well, yes, we did have some fanfare for Earth Day. One person even crossed the street to snap a photo of that one.
And Froggie Friday, that was a request. Wouldn’t you know we had frog visitors at the house that day?
Funny, it is only a sign propped up daily; a few chalked words and occasional amateur illustrations, then erased every evening to welcome the new day. It’s an original work of art with a 24 hour time limit. Who’d have thought something so temporary could stand the test of these times? Yet, day by day, it’s the gift we receive; the opportunity to write our way into each new day.
Last Sunday was “Sandhill Sunday! You say, Sandhill. We say, Sunday.” (Our community is called Sandhill Preserve, so there was a certain team spirit invested in that one.) Passersby waved and thanked, cars and bikes slowed to fist pump and smile and the curious circled extra wide to come looking.
There’s just something about an encouraging word or two and a community who needs one. I’m betting you live in such a community and you, my reader, are just such a writer.
We’ve been at this since April the 6th when it was “Monday, you’re welcome.” Expectations remain low and appreciation, high. Suggestions keep rolling in. There’s never been a better time to use your words well.
Spirit of Christ, Lead Me
0Let the Spirit of Christ lead me.
Not, my spirit,
Not, the spiritual forces,
But God, Himself
in human flesh.
This is my role model,
my driving force.
My focus.
Let me not be deceived
by things that would distract
me, tantalizing
though they might be.
They are empty,
hollow vessels
meant for other gods.
Idols.
Let my eyes stay focused on You.
Let my heart beat only for You.
Let my mind stay fixed on You.
Let my every sensation remind me of You.
Lord, you are my One and Only.
the Giver of life,
the life worth living.
Catch me in your updraft
and carry me along on
the wings of your Spirit.
Amen
“those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.”
~ Isaiah 40:31
Words and how we use them
0Words, so useful, so plentiful, but oh, so dangerous, so deadly.
You, Sir, have given them to me as a gift. My life is but a word.
How will I use it?
- To build up, not to tear down
- To tell the story of what You’ve done in my life
- To greet and get to know
- To grow and to relate
- To spellbind and entertain
- To describe what’s beautiful
- To congratulate
- To comprehend
- To weave pattern and plot
- To reflect and discover
- To uphold what is good
- To defend what is admirable and right
- To expose what is disingenuous, hurtful or wrong
- To celebrate and thank
- To portray
Let it be.
You?
How Could Someone DO Something Like That?
0
How could someone DO something like that?
This is what we ask ourselves when events like the recent crash of the German passenger plane happen. Or bombings at a marathon finish line. Or shootings at numerous schools. Or museums. Or places of worship.
We are faulty, we humans. But are we at fault? Can we help ourselves?
A pastor friend once remarked, the line between good and evil is drawn straight through every human heart. Yes, I feel this potential in me. Perhaps that’s why these atrocities hit “home.” Because I can see the possibility alive in me to do what I know I should not do, perhaps in a way that is permanently destructive. In this temptation toward evil, I must continuously choose good.
What if our mind is confused about which one is which? What if the truth is so veiled that all we see is evil and it is masquerading as good?
I am told — and the Bible says — that Jesus died to save me from my sin. That I can come near the One who is completely Good because the separation between us, the cleft of sin, has been banished. But what of my heart – the one I so very well know – that is part good and part evil? How can I turn from my own faulty choice to God’s will?
The truth is, anything that turns me away from the Absolute Good is evil for me. That turning is different for each of us, because different temptations beckon. Absent this awareness and I am the pilot. I am the bomber. I am the shooter.
While none of us alive today heard Jesus speak when He walked the earth, His death and risen life made way for the Spirit of Christ to open our ears to the divine command, “This is my Son whom I have chosen. Listen to Him!”
Lord, quiet the clamor which shouts you down and the internal chatter which drowns you out. Help me to listen closely and only to You. Amen.
What Harvest Would the Silence Bring?
027 years in a cell. A man found guilty, given time to consider, in silence. His circumstances insisted he “search realistically and regularly the processes of (his) own mind and feelings.”
What if we were sentenced to hard labor on the rock pile of life? With only ourselves and our fellow laborers for company. What then?
Would we find things of the spirit? Things gone missing or perhaps just dust-covered, having been set aside. Maybe they’ve been shelved or filed having been “sufficiently accomplished” thus not warranting further attention. Let’s press on to important matters, our soul seems to say.
But that voice…do I know it? Is it MY soul speaking?
One Light
What if we took the earphones out and let our own thoughts rattle through our heads as we went running, lifting, riding, driving? What harvest would the silence bring? Are we afraid to have our own thoughts for company?
Is it better to pay them no mind? Drown them out in the noise?
Keeping silent is very, very hard labor. Almost makes 27 years on the rock pile look easy, even a gift.
Run the lake but walk the bridges
1I’ve just returned from time away at a place that is full of beauty. I’ve been there before, but it was not full of last year’s beauty. It was newly lovely. In fact, daily lovely. Each day, it was filled with a new beautiful. A new personality.
It felt effortless to run around this lake. Perhaps because I took my camera, ready to stop for a photo. Beauty does that. It stops you. Gets your attention. Insists you tarry for a while. I even let that guy with the knee brace on one knee pass me (several times). He was going places. I was meandering.
And so it was. I ambled along the path, jogging, stopping, walking, looking. I even threw in a bit of note-taking in my phone’s notebook app. Because beauty does that. It inspires ideas and notions. It puts them together in a way that is new and lovely and clear. And worth sharing. Perhaps blogging.
One notion said, “Run the lake, but walk the bridges.”
So I ran. And as I approached the bridge over the dam, two walkers noticed my approach and moved to the right to let me pass.
“I don’t usually think of myself as a fast lane kind of person,” I called on the way by.
“Today is your day! Revel in the glory!”
And for a moment it was okay to do just that. Perhaps even for a whole day. Tomorrow will be new. And newly beautiful.
Funny how people tell you to “just be still.” My mind is never more stilled on God than when I am moving. Perhaps God runs along or within. Revs up the Him in me.
Traditional stillness is way too distracting for me.
Strengthened in Prayer: multi-tasking is Biblical
211 years
by wlebolt
in Body, Call to Action, Deeper Sensation, faith, imagination, In Action, Life, Made to Move
First Thessalonians (5:17) says it clearly: “Pray continually.”
I assume that means 24-7, 365. So, if I understand that correctly, that means my life should be one continuous prayer. Praising. Confessing. Thanking. Asking. But, wait, God wants me to be going about His business here on earth, too. So, if God expects me to pray without ceasing, He must have designed me to be both doing life and praying at the same time. Multi-tasking must be Biblical!
That’s good news because we’re good at multi-tasking these days. Texting while driving. Shopping while chatting. Pretending to listen while we’re thinking of 100 other things. Actually I don’t think any of those are truly multi-tasking, that is, doing both at the same time. I think we ping between things to accomplish both: Text, then check traffic, then text. Peruse shelves, then “say that again?” then select our salad dressing. Hmm, uh-huh, when our mind scans our mental to-do list, then uh-huh… Yes?
So I guess it’s natural to approach prayer in the same way. Pray, then do. Pray, then go. Pray, then speak. (or the other way around as may be more often the case) But if God actually intends for us to pray continuously — without stopping — that means we must have been made for this. In fact, it may be the one thing that can truly be multi-tasked with live. And is meant to be.
Except we don’t. We treat it as we do all the things we’ve been assigned. We add it to the list and then, if we’re dutiful, we check it off. Or, perhaps we’re a bit better about it and weave it throughout our days’ doings. But let’s not kid ourselves; that’s not praying continually.
Just for the sake of argument, if I could pray AND do at the same time, what would that look like?
- The prayer form would have to keep changing along with whatever I was doing.
- If I was talking, prayer would be in the words.
- If I was listening, prayer would be in the listening.
- If I was moving, prayer would be in the motion.
- If I was writing, prayer would be in the lettering.
That would be life lived completely God’s way.
What about if I exercising? Just to see, I pulled out my resistance band yesterday (a stretchy band that I use for exercise and in fitness activities) and choreographed motions to the hymn, Spirit of the Living God. I pull it. It resists. I pull harder. It moves. The give and take of exert and respond is the rhythm and movement of words and song. The song ends…”Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me” and I bring the band, taut between my hands, down to rest. In that moment I can feel the residual effects of the resistance and the stretch I’ve just performed. I can literally feel the prayer I have just prayed and I am stronger.
I have been strengthened in prayer. That is multi-tasking, and I think God is okay with it.
**Thank you to the folks at the Upper Room and the Global Board of Ministries who invited me to participate among them at SOULfeast 2013 this year. This inspiration is the fruit of that invitation.
Can we see stillness? hear silence?
312 years
Oh, what a welcome respite a recent “snow day” was for some. Particularly the ones whose days are hustle and bustle. Whose commutes are honking and merging. One who arrive home each evening exhausted from the effort put forth in the day just filed in the “done” column.
I know and love such a one. She enjoyed this day in her quiet spot, watching the silence and breathing in the stillness. She even took a moment to think of me and snapped me a photo to share the moment’s peace.
How do we see the stillness?... What is stillness if not absence of movement? How can we see what isn't there?
How do we hear silence?... What is silence but absence of sound? How can we hear what isn't making a sound?
Funny how a snapshot can arrest the flicker of flame and the flutter of snow. Yet, I am certain they are not stopped but active. I know this by the bend of the light — its reaching and grasping for air. And by the blur in the distance, briefly obscured by the wet lattice of flakes.
I know movement, even in its absence, by the evidence of its presence. It invites me to see it and teases me to hear it. It calls me to see and to hear with senses different from those I usually trust.
Stillness... Silence... Stopping me to focus...
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day. Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall; he lifts his voice, the earth melts.
Psalm 46: 4-6
Even as nations roar and kingdoms crash, there is a place to call Holy. Can we see it? Can we hear it? ... if we stop
What small thing, offered in love, has been life-giving for you?
1Mother Teresa said,
“In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things with great love.”
Genius.
Frankly, I like to think of myself as a big thing do-er. Don’t bother me with the small stuff. If just anyone can do it, well then, let them. Don’t bother me. I’m saving myself for the one thing only I can do. Pretty arrogant, huh? Not only that, but it leaves me totally frozen in my tracks. Because how in the world do you get started on such a big thing without attending to the small?
So this Lent I have embarked on doing one small thing each day “out of the goodness of my heart.” I wrote in (this post) about realizing right away that my heart wasn’t nearly so good as I thought it was. This week I have been looking at Mother Teresa’s words and her example.
“We can only do small things with great love.”
Great love? I don’t have that either. But wouldn’t you know that sometimes when I do these small things, big stuff comes of it? Or at least it seems big to me. An encouraging email I send gets an immediate response and opens another opportunity. A kind word I offer gets smiles and opens up another conversation. A prayer I lift suggests an idea I never would have thought of but now may become a blessing of community to many.
Now where did that big stuff come from? Me? No way. The things I did were small. Trust me, exceedingly small. But they are at the bequest of the One who whispers in my ear all the time. Wendy, why don’t you….? And so I have. What have I got to lose? It’s just small stuff.
But isn’t it the small stuff we remember? The kind word, the welcome invitation, the nice note or phone call, the person who came by, the kid who sat with us when no one else would. These were small things, but for some reason they have stayed with us. In our hearts they have grown to be big things. Certainly way bigger than the acts themselves. Those people weren’t trying to change us, but, in fact, they have.
The truth I am hearing is, if I were to set out today to make a big difference in someone’s life or a big splash in the world, I would not know where to begin. And the weight of such responsibility would crush me. Imagine, though, what God might do with small things done in His love. It is this, after all, which suggests it to me in that mini voice in my ear.
He really doesn’t ask much. But then the words of my middle school social studies teacher weren’t much. I’m sure he doesn’t even recall saying, “Wendy, there’s something about your writing.”
I could never have known what those words would come to mean. Neither could he. It was a small thing. But I remember them. That’s what the spirit of love does, it brings things to mind.
What small thing has been a source of great love in your life? Would you please share it in the comments? I would be so grateful.
You know, small things add up.