discipleship

Create

/ Marissa / 1 Comment

So God created human beings in his own image. In the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.
Genesis 1:27

IMG_6680 Our God is infinitely creative.  Every person, every fingerprint, every leaf and snowflake is unique.  A new creation.  Rocks, buried in the ground, formed in every color of the rainbow, so striking and beautiful that we dig them up and hang them around our necks.  The blood hidden in our veins, red.  The sky, a soaring canvas of blue.  The leaves, an engrossing progression of green, and then, all of a sudden, golden.  Why?  If efficiency were God’s key value, then we would probably live in a mosaic of beige.

Then there is food.  the brightness of a tomato, the richness of 2014-11-14 11.52.19chocolate, the liquid velvet of wine.  Things didn’t need to taste good, God created them to.  And sound.  The whisper of wind through the treetops, the chatter of the birds, the wrenching beauty of music.  Our God wasn’t interested in being functional when he created this place we inhabit.  His goal was beauty.

I’m tired of living a utilitarian life.  I want to be surrounded by beauty.  I want to make a discipline of finding it wherever I am, and then choosing to marvel.  At home, I want to create a space inhabited by beauty.  Not necessarily by buying expensive things, but instead, arranging the things I have purposefully, so that there are glimpses of beauty all around.

Another thing to note.  God made me as a person intensely creative.  I am just now beginning to recognize that not 2014-11-03 16.31.14everyone is built this way.  I have a burning need to create.  To think new thoughts.  To do new things.  To create art, to write out words, to sing songs and to… make stuff.  I am not trying to brag at all, by the way.  There is just a lot of stuff inside me that needs out.  And when I go to long without indulging my need to create, I get antsy.  Itchy.  Another word that rhymes with itchy.

The easiest way to ease the pressure?  Make stuff.  Crochet a hat.  Plan a youth event.  Write a poem.  Paint a picture. This year, I want to make a weekly (daily?) discipline of exercising my creativity.

Here is another truth.2014-12-31 21.12.55  When I make stuff, I can give stuff to people.  Why not use my need to create as a way to bless others?  For me, it is not so much about the end result as it is about the process.  Case in point: this blog isn’t so much about you reading it as it is about me writing it.  If I create a painting- give it to someone who needs to know they are loved.  If I make a scarf, let it be a hug for someone who needs it.  Why not?  God creates, and we are the beneficiaries of it.  When you think about it that way, it seems like giving is inextricably linked to making…

our God.

/ Marissa / Leave a comment

I have always had a close relationship with God.  Growing up, I never knew a time when I didn’t belive, when I didn’t know Jesus.  I started reading my Bible when I was young.  My faith has sustained me through  the hardest times of my life.

However, I always felt like my faith was a private thing.  I didn’t often talk about my prayer life, about my time spent reading my Bible, or in devotions.  People knew I was a Christian, but the everyday mechanics of my faith felt like an intensely private thing to me.  The heart of this was good.  I didn’t want to alienate others, or make others feel intimidated by my relationship with God, or feel like they had to compare their walk with mine.

However, in that privacy, a seed of sin was planted.  A tiny sprout of pride grew, and its roots settled into my heart.  It looked spiritual, and sounded virtuous, so I didn’t recognize it for what it was.  But when I read about Mary finding favor with God, or David being a man after God’s own heart, I smiled inwardly, feeling that I had a place amongst this elite club.  I read my Bible cover to cover every year.  As years passed, and I had read my Bible 10, 11, 12 times, I began to feel as if I had this God stuff figured out.  It’s ironic, because I didn’t share my devotional practices with anyone because I didn’t want to seem to be bragging.  And yet, my heart was as prideful as they come.

As I have written before, last year I intentionally DIDN’T read my Bible through.  I spent the entire year in John.  Reading a verse at a sitting, instead of many chapters.  It was hard.  Incredibly hard, I felt a nagging voice in my head telling me that I wasn’t achieving enough for God.  But, for the first time, I was talking openly about my faith.  I started speaking with a spiritual director.  I started this blog.  I forced myself to say out loud that I have read the Bible all the way though.

And as I let the light in, I see my faith for what it is.  Strong.  Ordinary.  Treasured.  Human.  SO much more dependent on God’s faithfulness to me than mine to Him.

IMG_6647As the year began to draw to a close, I found myself wondering what was next.  Read another book?  Slow or fast?  What was I to do?  And then God answered.  I was meeting with a girl from the youth group, and she was asking me about how to read the Word of God.  We decided to read the Bible this year together.  Meeting every few weeks to talk about it.  Devotion, with fellowship.  Accountability.  Engaging together with scripture, and with God.

This is how our faith is meant to be.  Don’t get me wrong- our God is PERSONAL. You can’t read scripture and not see that (check Psalm 139 for proof).  But our faith is not meant to be private.  God instructs Christians as a community.  In scripture, most of the time when we read the word ‘you’, it is meant to be plural, not singular.  John Dyer explains this concept better than I can..

…Since the Protestant Reformation we’ve tended to emphasize the salvation of the individual and, with inverse proportion, downplayed God’s work in the Church as a community of people.

There are, of course, many reasons for this, but I think that two technologies (i.e. human inventions) have exacerbated the issue: (a) The technology of the book which encourages us to encounter Scripture textually in isolation rather than orally in a group; and (b) The technology of the English language (again, a human creation) which doesn’t have an agreed upon second person plural and therefore discards or hides important biblical data.

The scriptures were originally shared orally, told from parents to children, passed along in community.  Then, the New Testament was written, primarily in letter form… intended to be read aloud in church, and then passed along to other communities of believers.  With invention of the printing press, the Bible was put into the hands of the individual.  A priceless gift, don’t get me wrong, but one that can make us forget that we are to practice our faith in community.

So my resolution this year is to read my Bible.  In community.  In fact, I have begun reading it at the breakfast table, with my two kids right there.  So that they can see their mother read the Word of God.  And I am going to talk about it.  With my teenage friend.  And with others.  I am going to dive deeper into friendships, say the hard and vulnerable things, and try and allow others to really know me.  I am going to continue with Spiritual Direction.  In sum, continue to have a PERSONAL faith, but no longer make it PRIVATE.  It’s scary.  But here I go… IMG_6701

hot tea

/ Marissa / 3 Comments

Resolution #1: Drink More Hot Tea.

IMG_6688So here is the thing about hot tea.  It takes a while.  First, you have to boil the water.  Then, allow the tea to steep.  There is a ritual to the process.

Hot tea isn’t designed to be guzzled.  Gulping mouthfuls could pose an actual hazard to your health.   Just the act of preparing a cup of tea for yourself is a statement of intent.  I am investing 5 minutes in my own pleasure.  

I need that.

For me, drinking hot tea is an investment in my own personhood.  Every time I brew a cup, I am reminding myself that I, too, am a human to be taken care of.  I spend so much of my day in the service of others.  Spooning baby food into hungry mouths, wiping noses, racing to daycare, to work, to the store… Most of the time taking care of myself falls to the bottom of the list of urgent concerns.  So, when I fill my kettle, I am taking a moment to remind myself that I matter.  That investing in my own comfort isn’t wrong, but instead, can be an act of discipleship.  For I, too, am a person God dearly loves.  My feet, too, would be cleansed by our Savior.  He cares about me, not just those in my care.  And therefore, I should too.

The tea kettle also reminds me that not everything is a race.  It’s ok to stop and take a breath.  In fact, the world will not fall apart because you are choosing to alter your harried pace.  Moments when we choose to break the thought pattern of hurry are essential.  It not only reminds us that we aren’t in control, but it also acknowledges the One who is. I can grind my teeth at a redlight, drum my fingers on the steering wheel and curse the city manager who CLEARLY HAS NO IDEA HOW TO TIME STOPLIGHTS (and I do), or I can take that moment to stop the insanity.  Breathe deeply.  Notice the world around me, engage with the children in my backseat.

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, ‘Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!’ ‘Martha, Martha,’ the Lord answered, ‘you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed—or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.
Luke 10:38-42

I spend so much of my life in Martha mode.  Intending to spend time at the Lord’s feet, but knowing the practical things that need to get done.  In my mind, these things must be done first, before I am free to rest.  And it’s true.  People need to be fed.  Things need to be cleaned.  I need to pick my kids up from school and to go to work.  But if I wait to sit at God’s feet until all those tasks are finished, I will never get there.  I need moments where I choose to remind myself that God is in control and I am not, that my time and my schedule and my mental to do list is not the most important thing.  Drinking tea has become a daily metaphor of that to me- reminding me to be a Mary, not a Martha.

Advent

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Truth: By this time last week, I was already sick of Christmas.  Those of you who know me may have a hard time believing that.  Christmas has always been my thing.  When my husband and I were dating, we had to have several (heated) conversations about when the appropriate date to start playing Christmas music would be.  (me- October 1st.  him- December 23rd)  However, working at a church makes Christmas your busiest time of year.  I have two MAJOR church events I am coordinating that happen between December 21st and 24th, involving most of that week and about 200 people.  Overwhelming.

And then there is the fact that I have two children.  All of a sudden, there is so much pressure to create Christmas memories.  Pictures with Santa.  Tours through the lights.  The perfect tree.  The decorated house.  The Pintastic holiday cards.  The music.  The cookies.  The candy.  The parties.  The Christmas PJs and Christmas dresses and angel breakfast and nativity plays and presents for daycare teachers and… And… AND…

It was December 8th.  My house was not decorated.  I had no tree.  No Christmas cards.  No energy.   I hadn’t been able to go to worship at my church for 2 weeks because I was too busy doing OTHER things for church.  I wanted it done.

Amy, my pastor/supervisor/friend, gave me great advice.  Advent is about celebrating the approach of Christmas, not its onslaught.  Instead of feeling overwhelmed that Christmas is only 3 weeks away, savor the fact that you still have 3 weeks to prepare for the coming of our Lord.

ad·vent
ˈadˌvent/
noun
 The arrival of a notable person, thing, or event.

Advent is the discipline of anticipation.  It is about arrival, not about adherence.  It is the practice of preparing our hearts and minds to meet the Lord.  It is not about decorations, trees, or creating new memories.  It is instead, about savoring the shared memory that we as Christians hold together.  Christ has come.  As a baby, as a Savior, as our Sacrificial Lamb.  This season is about privilege, not obligation.  And for me, it may not be about the date on the calendar.  I can celebrate the miracle of the birth of Christ just as honestly the week after Christmas as the week before.  And perhaps that needs to be part of my personal spiritual walk, at least in this stage of life.

But that doesn’t resolve what to do with the STUFF that comes along with Christmastime… And here is where I have landed.  I am going to try and mine the original intent from these practices.  I want to see these things as part of the celebration of advent.  The lights can remind us of Christ, the LIGHT of the world.  The parties, a way to celebrate this miracle with those who we hold dear.   The cards, a way to send our thoughts and love to our people far away.  The gifts, a chance to remember the Gift we have been given.  And if something robs me of my joy (*cough* ELF ON THE SHELF), it gets eliminated.

And now, from a better place of mind and heart, I can say,

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
Let your heart be light… 

nativity

And then there is this… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgOIYvDgSLg

Opportunity (has) Cost

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Two roads in a yellow wood
But only one pair of legs.
Each decision a yes
But in the same breath, no.

A wishbone snaps.
One side victory, the other, splintered.
Each side broken, in different ways.

When we choose
do we hold the duality in our minds?
In each destiny there dwells a shadow side,
A legacy not engaged.

This is the balance of life, the yin and the yang.
And that is how it should be,
For we are made of flesh and not of feathers.

How do we lay ourselves before the throne of God,
Our lives, our collection of yesses and nos.

What story do these declinations tell?
Is it one of faith?
Or of fear?

How do I listen Lord, standing in a yellow wood?
Which path is mine to take?

IMG_0014.JPG

bones

/ Marissa / Leave a comment

Yahweh took hold of me, and I was carried away by the Spirit of Yahweh to a valley filled with bones. He led me all around among the bones that covered the valley floor. They were scattered everywhere across the ground and were completely dried out. 
Ezekiel 37:1-2

Have you been there? To the valley of dry bones?  Have you gazed out upon what you thought would be verdant life, only to see shriveled dreams, dust and ashes?  Has the thing you cherished, the vision you held dear, evaporated before your very eyes?

The spirit of discouragement is a powerful thing.  As Christians, we deal in intangibles.  How does one measure a soul?  How do you determine success or failure when you are operating in the realm of discipleship? Often, God does not bring growth in a linear fashion, but instead, in fits and starts.  And often, all too often, we pour time, energy, love, and hopes into something that seems to whither before our eyes.  In that moment, staring at a valley of bones (or an empty room, a rebellious teenager, a marriage in shambles) we hear a voice whisper “you have failed.”

Then he asked me, “Son of man, can these bones become living people again?”
“O Sovereign Lord,” I replied, “you alone know the answer to that.”
Ezekiel 37:3

Let me tell myself you something important.  When you are doing kingdom work, it is not  your responsibility to make something succeed.  You cannot do it.  We cannot white knuckle a fledgling ministry into succeeding.  We cannot convince someone to come to Jesus by a winsome argument.  You cannot cure societies ills by gritting your teeth and working that much harder.

That’s God’s job.

He may do it.  Or he may not.

So I spoke this message, just as he told me. Suddenly as I spoke, there was a rattling noise all across the valley. The bones of each body came together and attached themselves as complete skeletons. Then as I watched, muscles and flesh formed over the bones. Then skin formed to cover their bodies, but they still had no breath in them.
Ezekiel 37:7-8

This is our job.  Speaking the message.  Obedience.  Simply to take the next step.  It is God who puts the bones back together.  We humans are such silly, all or nothing creatures.  We either take on too much- trying to make water into wine through our own machinations, or we sit back and do nothing- saying that we are waiting on God to provide. The answer lies in the middle.  We must find the balance.

If God has planted a dream in your heart, or given you the responsibility to shepherd a ministry, your job is obedience.  To do the next thing.  It is only when we are faithful in our small tasks, that God brings forth the miracle.  When God tells us to speak, we must speak.  When he calls us to act, we do it. It is human hands and human voices God uses to change this world.

Then he said to me, “Speak a prophetic message to the winds, son of man. Speak a prophetic message and say, ‘This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Come, O breath, from the four winds! Breathe into these dead bodies so they may live again.’”
So I spoke the message as he commanded me, and breath came into their bodies. They all came to life and stood up on their feet—a great army.
Ezekiel 37:9-10

So often, we are expecting God to do mighty things.  Heal the terminally ill.  Take a small church plant and grow it into a mega church.  Convert the jihadist.  He does that.  But he also does so much more than the grand acts.  Much of God’s work is invisible, small, mundane, and ever so much more powerful than the miraculous.  The majority of Christendom has not been created by supernatural acts, but by the faithful obedience of generations of believers.  It is the faithfulness of God’s children to live into their gifts and to offer their lives to God that has sustained our faith and transformed our world.  God creates the seeds that grow into flourishing crops.  But he allows us to plant them.

I don’t know what mountain you are staring at today.  I don’t know the vision God has birthed in your heart.  But what I do know, is that in order for that dream to happen, two ingredients are required.  God’s power, and your obedience.  Bearing the fruit is not your task.  But planting the seed is.  And if you are hearing that whisper in your ear, the one who has told you that you have failed, that you aren’t good enough, remember the valley of dry bones.  Sometimes one act of obedience, one whisper of prophecy, is all that is required to resurrect those bones into life.