echoes

Isaac Moments, Part II

/ Marissa / Leave a comment

Take your son, your only son—yes, Isaac, whom you love so much—and go to the land of Moriah. Go and sacrifice him
Genesis 22:2

I remember the first time I ever practiced Lectio Divina.  I was in a class and we were asked to meditate on Genesis 22, the story of God asking Abraham to sacrifice Isaac.  It was a time of my life when I was experiencing a lot of loss, and I remember myself being furious with God.  How dare he?  How dare he constantly ask us to give up our treasures, the people that we love, our tangible proof of God’s promises?  Why?  What kind of heartless, egotistical God would constantly require such sacrifice?  Why was he constantly stripping us of things that we cherish, relationships that we need?

For a long time after this experience, I just avoided the passage.  I just told myself that this was the Old Testament God (always a convenient excuse, yes?)  And that our God is different, he doesn’t take all that we love from us.  But still, in the back of my mind, a small ember of resentment glowed orange.

It wasn’t until I had children myself, that I found a new understanding of this passage.  For, as I wrote in an earlier post, parenting is terrifying.  Every day I am confronted with a myriad of terrors, I’m always reading about newly uncovered dangers to my child’s health, well being, psyche.    It’s enough to make me want to tape him up in a suit of bubble wrap, and force him to wear a helmet 24 hours a day.  But then again, that would make him that kid, and cause harm of another kind.  When God called Abraham to lay his precious boy on the altar, he is asking him to trust.  He is asking Abraham to put GOD first in his life, and to trust that God has a plan.  One that is ultimately good.  For us.  For our precious children.  For the world.

For you see, when I was reflecting on this passage initially, I missed one important point.  God provided a sacrifice.  Abraham didn’t have to murder his son in order to please his Father.  What was placed on that altar ultimately was not Isaac, it was Abraham’s expectations for his son.  Who he thought that Isaac would be, what he thought Isaac should be.  Abraham’s expectations of control, of pride, of success.  God asked Abraham to trust in God’s good plan, and the second Abraham was faithful to this call, a sacrifice was provided.  A new way, heretofore unseen, was given.

When we unclench our fists and ask for God’s plan, not our plan, to determine our steps, the sacrifice is complete.*  God isn’t taking away the things we treasure out of spite or ego.  Instead, he is inviting us into freedom.  Asking us to trust that life isn’t about us and our plans, but about a bigger, better plan, that we can’t even see or appreciate fully.  It takes the pressure off of ourselves to get it right, and places the expectation upon God to provide. Life becomes less about fear of what could happen, and more about a breathless expectation to see what will happen.

Selah.

*Just to be clear, the sacrifice I am referring to here isn’t the Ultimate Sacrifice, Jesus’ atonement for our sins.  Instead, I am referring to the sacrifice Abraham was asked to offer- to give up control and his sense of power over his own destiny, and to trust God to provide…

psalm 46

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Psalm 46

 God is our refuge and strength,
    a very present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,
    though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,
3 though its waters roar and foam,
    though the mountains tremble at its swelling. Selah

4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
    the holy habitation of the Most High.
5 God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved;
    God will help her when morning dawns.
6 The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;
    he utters his voice, the earth melts.
7 The Lord of hosts is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah

8 Come, behold the works of the Lord,
    how he has brought desolations on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
    he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
    he burns the chariots with fire.
10 “Be still, and know that I am God.
    I will be exalted among the nations,
    I will be exalted in the earth!”
11 The Lord of hosts is with us;
    the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah

Once again,  I find myself captivated by Selah.  I read this Psalm last week as part of our church’s sermon series, and it has really stuck with me.  This psalm paints such a picture of tumult, of mountains tottering, seas roaring, nations at war, chaos everywhere.  And yet, in the midst of it, God is our fortress.  When I hear the news lately, I find myself just wanting to turn it back off. There is so much hate, strife, death, upheaval, disaster and pain in our world today.  I want to find a safe place for me and my little family and just run away from it all.  But this is not the way of believers.  Instead, we are called to make our haven in the midst of the storms.  Why?  Because God is our fortress.  He is our present help in times of trouble.  He is with us wherever we go.

Each stanza in this Psalm paints a bleak picture, one of chaos, fear, insecurity.  One characterized by stress and unrest.  And yet in each stanza, God reminds us that he is present.  That he is our refuge, our source of strength.  How often in the midst of the chaos do you feel God’s presence?  For me, not much.  It is only in retrospect that I can see his sustenance, his provision for me.  In the middle of it, I am too afraid, moving too fast, too distracted to even look for God.  But even still… he is there.

I think that God put the Selahs in this Psalm in very strategic places.  Right in the midst of the teeming chaos, the frenetic pace, the sky is falling emotions, God inserts a simple selah.  Stop.  Think on this.  God is telling us he is here, that he is protecting us, but we have to stop and stand in trust in order to feel His presence. In verse 10, he even says it flat out.  BE STILL, and know that I am God.  I am in control.  Not you.  I am a fortress.  You are safe within my walls.  Be still and trust me.  Be still and remember.  Stop.  And think on my faithfulness.  Stop your striving and remember that I am the one who sustains you.  I hold your tomorrows in my hand.

When is the last time you stopped?

When were you last still?

yours to carry

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Something has bothered me deeply about the national discourse on Robin William’s death.  So much so that I didn’t want to write this post, because I didn’t want to use his name in vain.  I didn’t don’t want to use his death for my purposes.  I am not going to reference it any more in this post… but here is what I have to say.  His death isn’t about you.  It’s not yours.  It belongs to him.  And his family.

When something terrible happens to someone famous, we all have reactions.  We have opinions.  We have memories of the person, ways their life touched us or affected ours.  But the truth is, we didn’t know them.  They aren’t real to us.  We see glimpses, roles played, the public persona, not the person inside.  And so the loss of that person, while sad, isn’t world ending.  When something like this happens, and the world is captivated by the loss, the lingering public discourse always hurts me.  I can’t bring myself to click on the articles.  I don’t want to know the gory details, hear what the talking heads think, see the Top 10 Lists of best movie roles, their 14 best Golden Globe outfits, etc etc etc.  The truth is, this was a person.  They have friends.  A family.  Children.  And I can’t imagine losing someone I love desperately, and having to hear the rest of the world discuss them over the water cooler.

The same thing happens at our nation’s major tragedies.  I hate to see the reporters swarming a school shooting.  I refuse to read the profiles of the shooters.  I just don’t want to know.  Why?  Because in my mind, this person’s motivation was to become known.  They want the world to know their name.  To be captivated by their actions, their monstrosities.  When I refuse to click on the link, I refuse to reward the acts of terror.  We have to face it.  We have a celebrity culture.  We are watching the glitterati 24 hours a day.  In our country, to be important is to be famous.  To know about the comings and goings of the famous gives us something in common, something to talk about.  A seat at the table.

But here is the problem with that… we don’t actually have that in common.  We are just outsiders, looking in on someone else’s life, someone else’s tragedy.  The heartbreak of the people on the news is not ours to carry.  We can’t bring them a meal, show up at the wake, sit with them while they cry… we aren’t a part of their life.  We are just gawking at them from the other side of the screen.

In a way, I believe that the best ministry we can have to those people is privacy.  Give them the space and the room to mourn.  Show support and empathy, but hold the spectacle.  Stop the discourse.  This tragedy isn’t an issue, it’s a life.  A person.  A person in pain- not that uncommon.  We spend our lives surrounded by hurting people.  People whose lives we can impact.  Stories we can carry with us.  These are the people that need our presence, our ministry, our attention.  Have an opinion on depression?  Suicide?  How much time have you spent walking alongside someone who has been depressed?  Sat with people who have been robbed of loved ones by suicide?  These people are yours to carry.  Engage with them, engage with your world.  Instead of blogging, commenting, or tweeting about these issues, it’s time for us to get our hands dirty.  To invite our neighbors, friends, and coworkers into our lives and communities, and to do life with those in pain.  We can talk about suicide until we are blue in the face, but no amount of awareness, no pithy statement is going to stop this epidemic.  That hope lies within the context of relationship; it lies in face to face conversations; meals spent together; loving faces to witness the darkness of the pit.

That’s how Jesus did his ministry- not in public announcements, press releases, or blog posts (parchment posts?) but in living life with a group of people.  The disciples lives were transformed during nights around the campfire, fish roasting on a spit.  Jesus was deeply involved his people, and those people in turn, transformed the world.  It’s easier to stand at a distance and voice our opinions… but the reality is that nothing changes this way.  Dive in… engage… be present. Be with the people you are with, not the people you watch from afar.

just show up

/ Marissa / Leave a comment

You know what matters?  Words.  Words matter.  You know what else matters?  Presence.  If you have a person in your life who is hurting, just show up.  Use your mouth to make words.  Pretty much any words will do- and they will be a blessing.

I remember who visited me in the hospital and at home when I had my babies.  I remember who came to my father’s funeral.  I remember every time someone has dropped off a gift when I feel discouraged, sent a text at a time when I felt alone… these things matter.  We crave to feel known, to feel seen.

There is a huge battle fought every time we have an impulse to show up in someone’s life.  When we feel a tug on our hearts to be there for a friend in a time of need, the items on our to-do list seem to start screaming louder.  You suddenly notice the kitchen counter is covered in dirty dishes.  The washing machine is overflowing.  The work deadline looms larger, and you remember a dozen errands you have been putting off.  We worry that we are intruding, that the person isn’t up for a visit, that it will feel awkward.  But still… isn’t it worth a try?

We hear time and again that time is the most valuable commodity in today’s society.  The way we invest that time is significant.  It tells us about our values.  It gives us clues to our idols.  It is a resource we can invest, either in God’s kingdom, or in our own agendas.  Investing in relationships is a difficult thing to do, because that time is… squishy.  It doesn’t feel like you are doing something with your time when you are spending it with a friend.  It gets you no closer to your goals, to feeling in control of your life.  Or does it?  

Guard against the tyranny of the urgent. The most important things will seldom scream for your attention, they will simply wait for you to discover them. Things like prayer, Scripture study, cultivating friendships, thinking, enjoying art. The loud and demanding are rarely as important as these.”
~Charles Swindoll

Investing in people pays dividends over time.  We are not built to be alone.  We need people in our lives, people to show up when WE need them.  Not only that, we need to cultivate the discipline of investing in others.  In being hospitable with our time.  I am guilty of neglecting this.  I frequently let the fear of awkwardness or the pressure of busyness override my urge to reach out.  But I am trying to fight it.

Here are my resolutions (for now):
When I am asked to pray for someone really pray for them.  And follow up later.
Send that text.  Write that letter.
Show up.  In hospitals.  At sickbeds.  When it matters.
When I am with someone… listen.  not just talk.  Ask questions about them.

Any other suggestions?

keep it pretty

/ Marissa / 1 Comment

I have been thinking a lot about hospitality lately.  It was something that was pretty important in the Bible.  And a concept whose meaning has become distorted and lost in today’s culture.  When I think of hospitality these days, the first thing that comes to mind is pictures from Pinterest.  Mason jars, burlap, candlesticks.  Perfect houses serving pretty food.  Bonus points if it is made from items from your own garden or contains quinoa.  We are afraid to have people over in our homes, unless we have spent days cleaning.  We are afraid to let people be at home in our lives because we can’t seem to rid ourselves of our pesky flaws.  We think that we should be as perfect inside as we strive to be on the outside.

The Bible calls us to practice hospitality.  To entertain strangers in our home.  And yet, we are afraid of having even our friends over.  We stay closed off in our little houses, a city full of fortresses, afraid to share life with each other.  Why?

What does hospitality mean in today’s culture?  How do we as Christians practice hospitality, koinonia community?  How do we break that social more, the one that makes us afraid to open up our lives and hearts to one another?

I was meeting with my couples small group last week, and we were talking about this very thing.  How we are afraid of allowing people to see our real houses, our real lives.  How we feel the need to pretty things up before we invite others in.  How we feel like the Pinterest inspired urges to do home canning and CrockPot creations are at their core a cry for connection. Connection to the past, recapturing our  heritage, connecting with others, figuring out how to do life ‘right.’

God calls us to be known.  The book of Acts is about a community, a group of friends that become family. This is a vital ingredient in our Christian development.  Yes. Of course it’s scary.  Yes, it will be awkward, and heartbreaking, and annoying at times.  But it’s vital.

So how do we get there?

Well… I’m inviting my small group over for dinner tomorrow night.  And I am not cleaning up before.  And then we are having other people over on Friday.  Once again, no clean up.  No pinterest.  No perfect.  I am going on a walk with my friend tonight.  And another friend Thursday.  This little introvert is breaking out of her shell.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

Sacred Echoes

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“Go out and stand before me on the mountain,” the Lord told him. And as Elijah stood there, the Lord passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.  And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper.  When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.
– 1 Kings 19:11-13

God speaks.  People who follow him know this well.  But His voice is not easy to discern; it’s something you have to listen for, and tuning your heart to His frequency is often a lifelong journey.  Margaret Feinberg wrote a book called The Sacred Echo that helped me frame my idea for how I often hear God-

“I call them sacred echoes because I noticed that throughout my relationships, daily life, and study, the same scripturally sound idea or phrase or word will keep reappearing until I can no longer avoid its presence.” -The Sacred Echo”

I do think this is a way that God speaks.  Thoughts.  Concepts.  Words.  Convictions.  Things that repeat over and over in your life until you realize that these concepts are something you need to hear, need to implement, need to learn.  Once you recognize an echo, it often becomes hard to ignore.  God’s whispers turn to shouts.  Yet how do you train your heart to listen?

I don’t know exactly, but I hope that this blog is a part of my obedience to the process.  Here is the place where I want to share my echoes, the scraps of wisdom I am picking up from God’s gracious hand as I live my life.  It is an act of obedience, a choice to be vulnerable and share my words with the world, not something that comes easily to me.