The day the sun didn't rise

Today the sun did not rise over San Francisco. 

Murky gray-orange haze filtered through my bedroom window instead of the cheerful sun and I stirred, disoriented and confused.

I completed my morning routine sluggishly, stepping out onto the back porch with my coffee to take it all in. The birds were not chirping or eating the grass seed my husband planted the other day. Even they were confused. 

The day grew darker with each passing hour, reaching its darkest state by about 1 o’clock in the afternoon. I wanted to crawl back into bed. Every bit of my routine felt off from working, to eating, to lessons with the kids. I honestly didn’t want to do any of it. One of my clients was spot on when she said she felt claustrophobic. That’s EXACTLY how it felt! Uncomfortable, unnatural, squeezed, held down, confined, unsettled, choky, dread. 

I didn’t see the sun all day; not even a filtered ball of red. It was completely covered from my view, and what I realized is how much I rely on the sun to govern the comings and goings of my day. Naturally, the sun tells me when to rise and when to rest, but what I experienced today made me realize that it’s faithful presence and progression in the sky unconsciously guides my daily activities.  

Then I heard God whisper to me about his Son, Jesus. Aren’t you thankful you live your life guided by my Son?

I’m so grateful for Jesus. I pledged my allegiance to Him many years ago and have lived every day since then walking in the free gift of his redemption, won for me through His death and resurrection. 

Not seeing the sun today was disorienting. How much more would my life be without Jesus, the Son, orienting my beliefs, priorities, and actions? Indeed, my life before Him was a murky gray haze guided by my own selfish desires. How much do I need Jesus! How disoriented my life becomes when I do not regard God and thank Him for being a fountain of wisdom, peace, and grace for living each and every day.

I’ve been listening to hymns a lot lately and this one rose up in my heart as my prayer today, that I would live every day, every moment of my life oriented by the Son.  

I Need Thee

Written by Annie S. Hawks and Robert Lowry, 1872 

I need thee every hour, 

Most Gracious Lord;

No tender voice like Thine

Can peace afford

I need Thee every hour

Stay Thou near by;

Temptations lose their power

When Thou art nigh. 

I need Thee every hour, 

In joy or pain;

Come quickly and abide,

Or life is vain. 

I need Thee every hour, 

Teach me Thy will;

And Thy rich promises

In me fulfill. 

I need Thee every hour, 

Most Holy One;

Oh, make me Thine indeed,

Thou blessed Son. 

I need thee, Oh I need thee

Every hour I need thee

Oh, bless me now, my Savior!

I come to thee. 

Light

I was born on winter solstice, the darkest day of the year. The short days of winter aren’t so bad while everyone has their Christmas lights up and evenings are filled with events that warm body and spirit. But when the new year arrives with quiet evenings and cold temperatures, the short days become more difficult to bear.

Monday I noticed the light is beginning to change . The sky was a pastel palette of pink and orange and baby blue all blending into one another as I drove south on 280 at dinner time.

My spirit responded in humble praise:

Thank you for the light returning.

Every week the lightness of my soul,

lifted,

carried,

A little bit longer.

Anticipating Advent

It is the eve of Advent. My home and my heart are ready. I laid out the decorations today and not just the Christmas decorations, mind you.

No.

The Advent items that serve as a reminder to my soul of what this season is really about. How is it that I forgot them for so many years?

I’ve been a Jesus follower since I was four years old, but it wasn’t until a few years ago that my heart began to long for a way to escape the materialism of Christmas and go back to the roots of a faith-filled holiday. 

Coming.

Yes.

That is what it means after all. Advent is the time when we remember His coming, as Ann Voskamp says so beautifully,

“He who carved the edges of the cosmos curved Himself into a fetal ball in the dark, tethered Himself to the uterine wall of a virgin, and lets his cells divide, light splitting all white… The mystery so large becomes the Baby so small, and infinite God becomes infant.”

A few years ago I picked up her Advent devotional: The Greatest Gift. I’ll be reading it again, but this time using the family version with my children.

Last night, I started telling Maddie the story using a peg doll nativity that she can safely hold and play with. I told her about Mary and the angel, using the dolls to illustrate the scene. It was special. My heart radiates with joy when I think about getting to share the most important story in the world with my young daughter.

We will hang ornaments each day on our Jesse Tree, creating a visual reminder of the story of Christ’s coming from Adam to Jesus.

It used to be when I read the gospel of Matthew, I would skip over the boring genealogy in chapter 1. Now I am awestruck when I read it, amazed at God’s divine intention all the way from the beginning.

He gets his way and Christ comes from the lineage of broken humanity: liars, cheaters, adulterers, prostitutes, and foreigners. Each one grafted in to His great redemption story.

We’ll light a candle, too, each night on our Advent wreath as a reminder that we are drawing closer to His coming, or as I told Maddie today, “the best birthday ever.”

Observing Advent is a step I am taking away from the commercialization of Christian holidays and toward creating a meaningful liturgy for my family that recognizes the holy seasons of Christianity. For too long I've celebrated the most holy days of my faith following the traditions of our culture - Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, egg hunts, and cinnamon rolls - while leaving behind the observances that have been a part of the Christian story for generations.

 Not anymore.

I'm longing for something more for my family and I'm hopeful it will change the Christmas experience for me and my kids forever. 

Encouraging a Stranger

Tonight, I’m at the park with my kids getting some fresh air before bedtime and enjoying the last light of the day.

My daughter is happily building a “nest” with her new friend of five minutes ago, and my son (a new walker) is proudly toddling around.  I’m following behind him, as parents do, when I notice a young guy sitting on the cinderblock half-wall surrounding the back side of the play area.

He looks incredibly sad. Literally like he is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Immediately I feel Holy Spirit whisper, encourage him.

 I question, “with what?” and then listen.

These words drop into my heart: God always comes through.

Hmm, doesn’t seem that important. Maybe this is just me feeling bad for him.

But I can’t let it go. The nudging to go encourage him is growing stronger.

I hum and ho for a bit. I follow my son around the play equipment and talk to another dad.

I can’t let it go.

The words become clearer: God loves you. He is going to come through for you.

Okay. I’ve gotta go tell him.

Wait. He’s getting up. He’s going to push his daughter in the swing. He’s smiling now.

He’s fine.

But still, I can’t let it go.

In my gut the nudging becomes stronger. Encourage him.

My son gets the conversation going. He toddles up to the man’s daughter and they baby-talk to each other. I ask what her name is and how old she is. She’s a beautiful little girl.

Then, I do it.

“Hey, when I first saw you sitting over there I felt like God wanted me to tell you something. I felt like he wanted you to know that he loves you. And that he’s gonna come through for you.”

Phew. I did it.

I watch his response. His lower lip starts to quiver and then he starts to cry. He turns away, clearly moved by this small bit of encouragement.

He turns back after what seems like forever with tears streaming down his face and I offer to pray for him. He says yes and I pray for him right there by the swings as twilight settles in.

“Thank you,” he says to me.

And then, “Can I hug you?”

Of course we can. We hug. This stranger and me, who is now strangely a friend.

The kids play a little longer and then it’s time to head home. He’s sitting on the bench and smiles as we walk by. I say, “Good-bye” and whisper another prayer for him in my heart.

We walk home and I notice the lightness of my spirit. I hear God say, well done, and I think to myself, this is what following Jesus is all about. 

Reflections on Restraint

Earlier this year I wrote about restraint and God has continued to unpack the fullness of its meaning for me. One of the lessons I am learning about my personal practice of restraint came by changing the way I eat.

At the start of 2016, I did something I have never done in my entire life: I went on a diet. Well, more like a “food challenge” called the Whole 30. For an entire month I did not eat grains, sugar, dairy, legumes, eggs (in my case), and certain additives and oils.

While I was on the Whole 30, God said to me:

“It is no mistake you are starting this year with this diet. You are learning restraint in the natural. I also want you to learn it in the spirit.”

Having never tackled a food challenge before, I had doubts whether I would make it through. Anyone who knows me know that toast is a staple of my breakfast ritual, so giving it up for an entire month was a big deal. But I did. (With much gratitude to a Facebook group that kept me accountable). And it felt great. And I felt great.

But then the Whole 30 was over and I could eat all the forbidden foods again. And that is when I really started learning about restraint.

The week after I reintroduced dairy, I went to a party where cheese was being served and could hardly keep myself from the table. I bought myself several lattes that same week, and I savored my Greek yogurt in the morning.

A few weeks later, I was at a dinner where bread was served. I went back for seconds, thirds, even fourths.

I’ve had more moments of snacking to oblivion on things like M&M’s and chocolate chips and other forms of cheap sugar than ever. I rarely bought candy before the Whole 30, let alone eat it all in one sitting.

I was experiencing a complete lack of restraint after getting off Whole 30 and assimilating forbidden foods back into my diet.

It was discouraging for several reasons but perhaps the moist poignant and meaningful to what God wanted to show me was the feeling that by doing the Whole 30 I had actually reversed course on all the progress I had made in changing my eating habits before I started.

You see, I hadn’t jumped into the Whole 30 cold turkey. I had spent 2015 experimenting with paleo recipes and reducing the amount of sugar and simple carbs that were part of my eating habits. I had already made a lot of progress.

My nightly dinners were almost always low carb, I was baking way less, and when I did I was using honey or maple syrup for sweeteners.

I asked God about this craziness:

“What’s the deal with me? What happened to all my progress?”

Here is what I heard him say:

“Your expectations were wrong. You wanted 30 days and then answers, but that is not how I am accomplishing my ways in you. I accomplish my ways in you through a gradual process of transformation.  

Remember that restraint is connected to tension. The artistic tension of a beautifully balanced composition, or a ballerina holding her graceful pose in a way that seems effortless.

Learning to maintain beautiful tension takes time. You long for the quick fix but I am working step-by-step, moment-by-moment. That is how I am changing you. That is what I want to teach you about restraint.”

What he said reminded me of a principle for change I read in a book a while ago called The Compound Effect, which can be summarized with this simple equation:

Small, Smart Choices + Consistency + Time = Radical Difference

I asked myself today:

Am I grateful I did the Whole 30? Yes.

Would I do it again? I’m not so sure.

I think the more appropriate rule for my eating habits is: Everything, in moderation.  

And the same holds true for my personal transformation: Changing, in moderation.

Final thoughts from the Word (emphasis mine):

“But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory…” – 2 Corinthians 3:18

“So then, my beloved, just as you have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure.” – Philippians 2:1

*Disclaimer: this is not meant to be a dig on the Whole 30 program, but rather a personal reflection on one thing God taught me through it. I generally agree with several of the principles of Whole 30 and know it has been a transformational experience for many.

Passion Week

Today marks the beginning of Passion Week: the seven days from Jesus’ entry to Jerusalem to his death and resurrection.

These are arguably the highest and holiest days for the Christian faith and yet for many years I didn’t do anything drastically different to reflect on the utter glory of all that went down during those 7 days in Jerusalem. I wasn’t raised with the tradition of observing Lent – that’s a Catholic thing. And other than singing “Hosanna in the highest” and waving a palm frond as a kid, I never really did much for Passion Week. Sometimes, in an attempt to throw off the formalities of old religion, I think we end up losing the meaningful rituals that remind us of who we really are.

Recently, I have had a growing desire to revive liturgical practices of my Christian faith in a way that honors God and brings me into a meaningful encounter with him.

Ann Voskamp has been a valuable resource for me in this quest. A few years ago, I picked up her Advent devotional The Greatest Gift. I read it now every year and plan to start the tradition of a Jesse Tree for my family as a way of observing Advent together.

For Lent, I am working through her Lent to Repent 40-day plan, which has facilitated a meaningful daily encounter with the Bible and prayer leading up to Easter.

On Friday I'm hosting a Good Friday Shabbat dinner at my home. I will serve lamb with bread and wine and remember Jesus' body broken and blood shed.

And this week, I’m planning to spend time reading the accounts in all the Gospels of the events of Passion Week. I want to spend time understanding what Jesus did and said the week prior to his crucifixion. I imagine for someone who knows he is going to die there is significant meaning and intensity to his words and his actions.

Here’s a thought I’ve been pondering already thanks to what was shared at church today. The term “Triumphal Entry” is a little misleading. It conjures up images of a victorious, kingly looking Jesus making his was into the city, perhaps a bit like the parade scene in the movie Aladdin.

But Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. And not even a full-grown donkey. He rode in on a colt that had never been ridden before, according to Luke 19:30. I was at the zoo with my kids this past Thursday and there was a little donkey in the petting zoo. Imagining a full-grown man riding on one of those things is quite hilarious and that’s probably how Jesus looked.

As I reflect on this image of my servant King riding a baby Donkey into Jerusalem, I am overcome with his humility. What a humble king I serve! And yet in many ways it is his humility that makes his power and authority so utterly Divine, so pure, so set apart from any other prophet that had come before him.

Out of my heart bursts this prayer:

Jesus.

Selah.

What a man you are. How much I still have to learn from you.

Let me read the accounts of your Passion Week with new eyes to see what you were really up to.

Let me leave behind my traditional interpretations of the accounts of your death and resurrection so you can speak to me new and fresh from your gospels.

Jesus.

Humble King.

Thank you for picking up your Passion for me. 

Experiencing Goodness

Every year, I feel like God gives me single-word themes for what is to come. For 2016, I received two words. The first was restraint. The second word was goodness.

Goodness.

It’s a word I don’t use much in my everyday language, but it is everywhere in scripture.

I especially like this passage:

“I will fill the soul of the priests with abundance, and my people will be satisfied with my goodness,” declares the Lord. – Jeremiah 31:14

Jeremiah must have been especially relieved to talk about God’s goodness after so much doom and gloom. The Bible records that he was nearly killed by the people (in chapter 26) for all the judgment words he delivered. There is a reason he is called the weeping prophet.

Here is what I heard God say to me about goodness:

 I want to teach your heart a way of living that absolutely expects the best.

 The negative, foreboding thoughts will be conquered [this year] by first-hand experiences with my goodness.

 The taste of all the good I have done and will be constant – like granules of sugar on your lips. And as you experience this, your mind will be renewed.

 You will expect the best.

 You will have peace about your health and the health of your family.

 And you will be able to encourage others from a genuine place of first-hand experience.

Almost immediately after hearing these things, I started experiencing goodness in many ways.

We found a dresser for our office on Craigslist and negotiated a price of $200. When we picked it up, the people gave it to us for free. Perfect strangers. They said they googled us, and discovered that we were believers and wanted to bless us.

Goodness.

I have been going to physical therapy for about 6 months and have spent a significant amount of money to do so. We don’t have insurance (we use medical bill sharing) so I assumed the costs weren’t covered. To my surprise and delight, I received $1,470 in reimbursements for every penny I had paid out of pocket. This was an especially significant “goodness moment,” because I have a really hard time spending money on myself  - even for legitimate needs like PT. It was almost like God was saying: “you take care of you, and I’ll take care of you.”

Goodness.

I left the house at 6:50 am a few weeks ago and experienced the most stunning sunrise on my drive to San Francisco.

Goodness.

I had an 8:30 am meeting in the East Bay and was really dreading the commute. I expected stop and go traffic the entire drive. Google Maps routed me to Crow Canyon Road, and instead of bumper cars I got 13 + miles of rolling green hills and flocks of sheep. Sheep!

Bonus: I was 10 minutes early for my meeting.

Goodness.

There have been many other moments, and I have recorded most of them in my gratitude journal. It’s a notebook where I have a running list of things, people, experiences, and moments I am thankful for. I was inspired to start one after reading 1000 Gifts by Ann Voskamp.

Recording God’s goodness has made me wonder if, perhaps, part of what he wants me to learn is how to look for His goodness and acknowledge it when I see it.

Perhaps what will conquer my negative, foreboding thoughts is simply taking a moment to recognize goodness when I experience it.

Perhaps the act alone of being grateful – of giving thanks – is what His goodness is all about.

Romans 1 has this to say about thankfulness:

For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God or give thanks, but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for an image in the form of corruptible man…

If not giving thanks is the beginning of the downward spiral, then perhaps giving thanks is the first step on the ladder out of darkness and into light, life, and goodness.