Gold from Straw

This morning I grabbed a quick bite of Scripture as I rushed out the door.  Judges 6:13 - 17 on the fly and not expecting much, I admit.  There's Gideon saying to God, "If You're for us, then why do we have so much trouble? Where are Your miracles we grew up hearing about? Looks to me like You've abandoned us."

Hmmmm... Honest.  Direct.  And, umm.. relate-able at times.  God doesn't even bother to respond to any of Gideon's speech for some reason.  Just gets straight to the assignment. "Go with the strength (or resources) you have and save Israel from the Midianites.  I'm sending you out."

Gideon asks what he's supposed to save Israel with since he's weak and insignificant.  God says,"I'll be with you. " And He tells Gideon he will destroy the Midianites, who were powerful and myriad, as if they are really just like one of him.

I often wish God would explain Himself to me.  He usually doesn't.  But He gives me assignments for the day.  And helps me in spite of huge odds.  Today my assignment was finishing a giant painting for church.  A peaceful rowboat pointed out toward sea.  I was more aware than ever of my lack of art training and struggles with the basics of perspective. It felt like God was asking me to spin gold out of straw.  I'm literally painting on my knees, asking God for what to do next. And somehow the picture became a living, breathing thing.

Pity

This morning I've caught myself in blatant self-pity. Why do I have to keep going through desolate places where again it's me pleading with God to let me know He's with me?  Why do I have to regularly return to being alone with my inspirations, gifts and interests?  Why do I have deal with almost daily temptations to despair over the inevitability of the few kindred spirits leaving my sphere?

The logic side of me stands back, at least in this moment, and says,"What do you expect in life training? Do athletes sit around on comfy sofas all day?"

I would like to believe that there is good plan for my life in all this rigor I'm being paced through.  I have such a hard time being alone, both literally and soulishly, but there has to be a way to triumph in it.  I wonder if this is the only way I would really seek God with my whole being?  If so, I wonder how I'll survive.  I would so much like to know that all this is producing something worthwhile.  Something beautiful.  Something hopeful and of true strength.

Wait

When I was in Bible School, the word "wait" came up so often in lectures that it became our year's theme. At the end of school, several of us formed the word on the lawn and were "aerial" photographed from a tower. A long lost picture, unfortunately.  Hence, my alphabet noodle art.

I tend to wait impatiently or dismally. Especially when it's indefinite. I'm often tempted to mope about what is unresolved. I squander the moment I'm in. Sometimes I leap ahead and take charge where I shouldn't and have to make apologies. It's too easy for me to take initiative in general but there are times when it's just plain wrong. Mostly, actually, just too hasty.

Been thinking about initiative taker Achan in Joshua 7.  He saw what he wanted, was able to take it and did. But the timing was wrong. He'd been warned.  Given boundaries that he ignored. He and his whole family died for it.  Just one chapter and one city later, God gives the Israelites permission, carte blanche, if you will, to take whatever plunder they want.  Things go better with sticking to God's timing.  Sometimes, though not always, the waiting is much shorter or less costly than we expect.

Mine the Day

I feel like I've been in the twilight zone the past while.  Several long days with my mother in hospital and evenings and nights alone in my parents' big house that creaks as the temperature changes.  My dad returns from an overseas trip at the end of this week. Meanwhile, I'm thankful for siblings and others who support me, the local supporter, by email, phone and prayer.  This evening I hope to return to the house with my mother gingerly in tow.  It's just the beginning of this health "adventure"for her.

Been thinking of "mining the day" for several weeks now.  Different from seizing it I think.  I'm looking for "allusions" for one thing.  Physical references to less tangible truths and preferably uplifting ones.  I'm also hunting for beauty.   And, of course and always, humor.

I'm surveying my findings so far. Driving to the hospital yesterday I passed a small community garden with a big sign saying "The Hug Farm". Made me smile.  A song on the radio played a tune with something about "you're not wandering alone".  Reminded me of a desolate time living alone in a city when the very moment I thought "no one knows I'm here" a person I'd met in another country suddenly drove by and said hello.  As for beauty, I defy seasonal cliche' and say I'm nearly floored by the burning intensity of the fall oranges mixed with deep purple,  or burgundy and green sharing two sides of leaves like taffeta. These are colors that paint can't mix. Colors plugged into a power source.

As for humor, yes, finding some of that too.  A bumper sticker yesterday said "Save a life, spay or neuter." Ok...so saving which life? The life or litter you're preventing? Even mildly illogical statements amuse me. Also entertained by the 3.5 stars of 5 rating hospital which is certainly that because of the meal delivery.  Two days ago, my mom's "lunch" came at 3 pm, which was after my several requests. But dinner/supper was early.  4:30 pm, actually. The exact same meal.  Almost brilliantly terrible service. I'm glad my mother has a good sense of humor.  We'll all need it in days and months to come.

This will be a quickly written one.  Interesting to observe my parents and their two completely different views on friendships.  It's come to light especially this week.  My normally very energetic mother (she's actually been called "effervescent") has been in the hospital for 8 days.  First it looked like a bad flu, which she never gets, then suspected pneumonia, and the latest, a spot on her lung with further tests.  All this to say, everyone in her family is either out of the country or several hours away by car.  My dad is actually on a ship in the Middle East.

My Mother is being steadily inundated and supported with visits by friends and people from church. She has always been a good friend to many, showing up faithfully, conversing warmly and putting down roots wherever she lives.  Now it's all coming back to her and then some.  My dad, on the other hand, insists from afar that having family nearby is always the best and is dismissive about the value of friends.  This is a man who travels the world, has a vast data base of "contacts", and whose own parents both had funerals with no more than 5 people in attendance.  I was at one of those. Shocking, really.

For me, friends are my family close by.  Maybe this is a wake up call for me to value them even more and tell them so.  Disturbing as my Mother's situation is, it's gratifying to watch her enjoy the fruits of her cultivated relationships.

Jewel Bright and Allusion

This morning I woke up early enough to go walking in the fog, my favorite kind of weather.  It almost physically draws me out of the house like a huge magnet.  I love how vastly mysterious and diffused everything is.  There's a country-ish dead end street nearby that I go to which ends with an unassuming church wrapped by a steeply sloped parking lot. A soccer field beyond that, sitting in a bowl of grassy hills, tree topped, and who knows what further on.  I walk loops and eights around the parking lot.  I mull over life, pray, ponder rhymes or melodies.  Mull some more.  It's a good place to cry too, which I usually don't around people.

On my last loop this morning I looked over at the soccer field disappearing in the mist like a portal to the hereafter. If Peter Pan faith was all it took, I'd be through it in a moment.  But of course it's just an illusion, or perhaps, more hopefully, an allusion.

The mistyness is leaving by the time I reach home again.  A bit later this morning I'm outside out again.  Now the sun is in full, fall splendor and behold, it's my favorite kind of...grass!  Be-sprinkled with dew drops and back lit to diamond glory.  Always this reminds me of a C.S. Lewis book describing arrival in Paradise as where "the grass was jewel-bright".  I can't even recall which book.  The Great Divorce maybe. This sparkling grass, another gift of allusion.    

Sandals

I hope I'm not wearing anyone out with stuff about my Freedom Session homework.  I hate to be tiresome, but it's what's on my mind these months.  Sigh...feeling that lack of a "best friend" or perpetually available and interested listening ears.  I guess the people who would be that if it were possible are the minds I'm writing to.  Honestly, if I didn't have such a perpetually lonely trail through a lot of my soul, I would never have started any of this blogging or much other creative stuff.

Anyway.  This week our assignment is a simple Bible reading exercise to train us Freedom Session folk in the art of listening to God.  For 6 days we have these categories to fill out:

Today I read : (Bible passage)

Most significant reference to me:

Main idea:

How it impressed me and/or applies to my life:

When we did a practice version in class, we were encouraged to directly ask God what He wanted to tell us personally through the passage.  Then we had to spend time listening to what He had to say. Not just read and run.  Actually waiting quietly with the real expectation that He would say something to our spirit.  

For my first homework in this assignment I read the last few verses of Joshua 5 where brave but unaware Joshua meets the angelic commander of God's armies just before Israel goes out to meet the enemy.  Once Joshua discovers who the angel is, he asks for instructions.  Verse 15, which I marked as my most significant reference, gives the answer, "Remove your sandals from your feet, for the place where you are standing is holy."  

I wrote down that God is telling me that "tomorrow" is not my problem.  My only job is to focus on and worship God in this very moment.  I've actually gotten more "aggressive", for lack of a better word, about clinging onto God's invisible feet.  Even if He has to drag me down the path I don't let go until He lets me know again, even with the tiniest peace, that He is with me. Probably sounds more like desperation than worship. But for me it's progress in my frequent sense of desolation.