Sacred Mundane: The Blog

My friend Caila has a fabulous quote by Mark Twain on her blog:

“Write without pay until somebody offers to pay you. If nobody offers within three years, sawing wood is what you were intended for.”

Well, I’ve been writing my whole life, but not very seriously until last July, so it’s safe to say that I’m still within the 3-year window where I can write without pay. I suppose in late June of 2010 I’ll be sharpening my saw… At any rate, right now I’m a volunteer freelance writer (!), so when Jeff saw an opportunity to be a contributing writer on a blog which focuses on students attending seminary (goingtoseminary.com), he signed us up. Jeff had actually already been featured on this blog, in an article about transitioning one’s soul at the end of a long day (read here) so it was no-brainer. We’re also highly qualified because…uh…we go to seminary. Click here to check out our bios.

At any rate, if anything brilliant manages to make its way through the gerbil wheel of our minds and out our fingertips and onto that blog, I’ll keep you posted. And I know several of you readers have contacted me because of your upcoming plans to attend seminary. Goingtoseminary.com is an excellent resource with humor, advice, money-saving tips, and reflective thoughts.

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On a personal note, we have a praise that Jeff did get a 1/2 time job working at our church for the summer. We’re thankful for that! And, thanks to a heads up from a friend (see Muni Diaries, right), I applied for a fantastic half-time job doing Community Relations and Development for a non-profit agency in Salem. No word yet, but we’re excited by the possibility. Until then, I’m a happy volunteer freelance writer staying one step ahead of the saw mill. Enjoy your weekend…

College was such a sweet time for my walk with the Lord. As I entered college I wanted to follow Jesus with all of my heart, but had no idea how. I’d never had a regular quiet time, had never been discipled, had never consistently read my Bible, and had a prayer life that mostly consisted of “flare prayers”, desperate pleas for help in dire relational circumstances. So when I started college I bought this really cheesy book with flowers all over the cover called Fifteen Minutes Alone with God. Yes, you guessed it, the gist of the book was learning to spend quality time with God. Then, I remember in a little Bible study, Jeremy Stewart suggesting that we all do this really cool thing called “30 minutes a day”…he called it a “quiet time.” What was a “quiet time”, I asked myself. It sounded kind of like something you make your toddler do when they’ve been naughty. But I loved the 30-minute idea, and so I dove in religiously, spending time reading my Bible and praying every day. The next year I bought another kind of cheesy book with flowers all over the cover (I don’t know what it was with me and flowers) called Calm My Anxious Heart. That one was amazing for me. It was all about contentment, and it truly changed my life. The book talked about a woman named Ella who worked as a missionary with the pygmies in Africa for 52 years. She left her family, her country, and all that was familiar. She lived in unreal circumstances, in the scorching heat and humidity of the African bush in sub-primitive conditions. Some days it was so unbearably hot she had to bring the thermometer inside because it couldn’t register past 120 degrees without breaking. Years after Ella’s death, her daughter Mimi found an old diary of Ella’s that had this prescription for contentment:

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~Never allow yourself to complain about anything — not even the weather.

~Never picture yourself in any other circustmance or someplace else.

~Never compare your lot with another’s.

~Never allow yourself to wish this or that had been otherwise.

~Never dwell on tomorrow — remember that is God’s, not ours.

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I remember being amazed at this little secret. I wrote these out and put them in my Bible, I reread them over and over until they were etched in my heart. But that was almost 9 years ago. The etching has worn down, so that today as I recalled them I had to go back and find the book to copy them down for you here. It’s obvious I haven’t only forgotten them in my mind, but I’ve forgotten them in my heart.

Yesterday, during my wonderful day in Corvallis visiting friends, I had the joy of meeting up with Caila, a long time friend who is a kindred spirit in every way. Right now she lives in a state she does not consider home, in a studio apartment with her husband and toddler son–a studio, which means that the kitchen=the bedroom=the nursery=the living room. They do have a separate bathroom where their son naps! Her attitude is awesome, and she shared yesterday that at Christmas she and her husband made a pact that they would choose to never complain about their circumstances. Wow. Amen! I was so humbled by this. We have had this amazing opportunity this year, a chance to both go to seminary, to live on virtually nothing, and to have the joy of seeing Dutch play with his grandparents every day. But how much of it I’ve wasted through simply complaining, through choosing to not follow those simple five rules listed above.

Look back at that list and read it again slowly. Think about the implications for your own life. For this weeks’ challenge, I thought we’d take a week to focus on ourselves, on our speech, on the way that we can choose to LiveDifferent from the rest of the world by refusing to complain. I love that Ella says to refuse to complain–even about the weather. How easy it is as Oregonians to just casually complain about the rain. We use it as a conversation starter, but it conditions us to think negatively about this beautiful state we live in! Or, more pertinant to the current economic landscape, how often do we complain about rising gas prices, the pitiful housing market, the steep rise of food costs. Every day we can choose how to look at our situation.  Re-write that first rule and insert whatever it is the most tempts you to complain. For example, “Never allow yourself to complain about anything — not even our financial and housing situation.” Or perhaps yours is something else–it may be small or petty or it may be a significant trial, but make a decision today to LiveDifferent from the world–instead of complaining, griping, and grumbling about it, we can set our mind on God. Even if we have internal strife about it, even if daily we’re flooded with negative emotions, we can choose how we will communicate about it. Proverbs 29:11 says a fool vents all his feelings, but a wise man holds them back. Let’s be wise about our words, because our words impact our perspective and our lives.

And please don’t get me wrong. There is a place for heartfelt complaint, for a cry to God when we hurt or when we don’t understand. Psalm 142:2 says “I pour out my complaint to [God], before Him I tell my trouble.” Prayers of complaint are neither commended or condemned in Scripture, they are simply recorded. But it is safe to say that if we are in desperate need of pouring out our hearts in complaint, God is the safest person to talk to.

So rather than attack all 5 of those contentment rules, let’s just attack the first. This week, let’s purpose in our hearts to never complain, not even about ______.  (Insert your thing) Make your reminder. Put it on post-it notes and put it on the bathroom mirror, next to your bed, in your Bible. Ask your spouse or roommate to hold you accountable. Let’s choose to–ok, gotta go, mommyhood calls (but I’m not complaining!)…Let’s choose to rejoice, let’s choose to see the good.  The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places (Ps. 16:6)…I’ve no complaints.

I write tonight with a full heart (and tummy!) because of some very special people.  You know them by name because of their fame as the friends who went with us to San Jose, who stuck by us through the darkest year of our lives, and who continue to stand with us as faithful, encouraging, steadfast amazing friends: Aaron and Candi.  Today we spent the day in Corvallis. Jeff teaches there every Thursday, but usually he goes straight from there to tutoring, so he’s gone from 6am-6pm, and the idea of doing that day with a toddler in tow is not attractive. But now he’s done tutoring, so today Dutch and I went along.  I had the treat of hooking up with a dear friend, Caila (her blog is to the right), who was visiting from Hawaii, who now has a little boy as well whom I’d never met.  We pushed our little blond boys around Corvallis and caught up on God’s faithfulness in each other’s lives.

During the afternoon, Aaron and Candi had given the key to their apartment so I could have a place to put Dutch down for a nap (he’ll only sleep if he’s in a crib in a dark room).  As you probably know, they recently moved to Corvallis and bought Big Town Hero, the home of the most delicious Italian Panini on earth.  So, to get the shop going, they are both working there 7 days a week…all day long.  They are my heros.  WIth their 6-month-old daughter bouncing in an exersaucer behind the counter or napping in a pack ‘n’ play, Aaron and Candi bake bread and serve sandwiches with the joy and love of Jesus Christ each and every day.  They own one car, so when Candi needs to go home for any reason, she runs, pushing Hannah in a jogging stroller the 4.5 miles to their apartment.  Does this strike you as totally amazingly cool? Yes, it is.  They’re in this crazy adventure together and I love them for it. So today, since they both live at the sandwich shop, she gave me their house key and let me chill at their apartment. Dutch and I both took naps (as I drifted off to sleep I was vaguely aware of the fact that while I was sleeping on their couch they were both working!), and were ready to go.  Then, after Jeff was done teaching and through with his meetings, he headed over to the shop and hung out for a few hours until Aaron was off at 5:30.  They fed us dinner–lifechanging sandwiches and paninis, followed by homemade chocolate chip cookies, then we put the kids in strollers and walked all over the OSU campus, us girls taking the lead power walking with the strollers, chatting incessantly, the boys strolling leisurely along behind us, catching up on each other’s lives as well.  When the rain set in, we head back to their apartment. Dutch ate cheerios and played with trucks while Hannah nursed and we all just sunk into cozy couches and savored the comfortable familiarity of such sweet friendship.  THey spoke profound words of truth, comfort, and encouragment to our weary souls. Not words of, “Get over it!”  Words of, “Man, this is hard, and God is good–here’s why.”  What struck me most was the sense of awe as I sat and realized, “Wow.  These people really love us. Truly, truly love us.”  They have this pure fervent desire to see God’s best for us, to bless us and love us.  I can’t even explain how powerful that is.  How precious and rare, a treasure indeed.  We finished our sweet evening with them praying for us, for the future, for God’s best, for patience and grace.  And after feebly attempting to thank them for things that cannot even begin to be expressed, we drove off, Dutch waving bye bye out the window.

I share about our day because I can’t not share about our day.  There is just something life-changing about love. There is something profound about people who truly love other people.  There is something so incredibly impacting about friends who truly love you as themselves.  I pray we all can not only have those types of people but be those types of people, in a world that’s sorely lacking love at all.

Thank you, Aaron and Candi, for years of faithful friendship and love.  And thank You, Lord, for the gift, the treasure, of friends. 

You know that feeling where you feel so emotionally spent you’re just completely empty?  This is my state as I sit here, a quilt tucked around my legs, my feet propped up on the edge of our little loveseat.  I’m empty and emotionally exhausted because I feel like I’m made painfully aware once again that my sense of fairness or justice is far from God’s.  I’m painfully aware that God cannot be manipulated.  I’m painfully aware that there is no sucker for me today.  A few months ago I was taking Dutch to get his check-up and immunizations, and realized I needed a Tetanus shot.  So while we waited for Dutch’s doctor, a nurse zipped into our room and while I was still holding Dutch, pulled up my sleeve, sunk in her needle, patted the spot with her guaze and was out the door in 30 seconds (a very expensive 30 seconds I found out when I later received the bill!).  Then later Dutch’s turn came.  First I gave him some Tylenol, so it wouldn’t hurt so bad, then I held him close to me, while the nurse took great care in giving the shots, then found special little Cars bandaids, and offered him a sucker for being so brave.  Later as I put Dutch into his carseat, I of course was extra careful not to bump his arm with the straps, and hurried him home.  As I drove I thought of the significant truth: “Funny they didn’t offer me a sucker.”  Of course they didn’t offer me a sucker. I am a grown woman. A mom.  They know I don’t need to be coddled and treated for every little brave thing I do.  And that’s right and appropriate. 

So why can’t I accept that as right and appropriate from God.  Unknowingly I have set up a set of fairness rules in my mind.  If I sacrifice something, God will give me something in return.  If I respond rightly and obediently, God will bless me in tangible ways.  If I have to get a shot, there will be a sucker at the end.  In fact, there have been so many times this year that I have found myself thinking, “Oh I can’t wait to see the cool things God will do at the end of this year, and how He will bless us!”  I might call it faith, but really it’s just an immature and childish notion that if I sacrifice something or endure some painful shot of adversity, God will reward me with a sucker.  And even worse, thinking that way is nothing more than manipulating God.  We’re saying “If I give this up to God, He will give me something better in return.”  God will not be manipulated.  So here we are, at the end of the year.  The spiritual infant that I am thinks that somehow because I think I have sacrificed somewhat I deserve some candy from God.  And instead God turns to me and says, “Thank you, my daughter. You’ve done what I’ve asked.”  And…what else God??  Don’t you have a sucker for me?!  Don’t you have something cool for me to show for it?  What’s that?  You mean to say there’s nothing at the end of the rainbow except the satisfaction of knowing You’re pleased?  And sadly, the truth is that my wicked heart had hoped for more.  Is God’s favor not enough?  How sad that I still act like a spiritual infant, demanding candy for a simple act of obedience. 

Well, He did give me more than that, actually. Today as I sat on the couch crying, disappointed once again with the direction life is going, I opened my laptop and discovered an amazing email from a girl who reads this blog.  A girl in Florida who I’ve never met, who stumbled across it and has been faithfully reading.  Her words made me cry even more, realizing that these words poured out, my life poured out, does matter, it does impact people…in ways we may never know.  That is a gift.  As I prayed I thought of the times I’d asked God to pour me out for His glory, to pour out my life for the sake of others. But as I sat here today praying, all that could escape my lips was the infant pounding her fists saying, “But I don’t want to be poured out. I don’t want to be poured out.”  I want a sucker.  “No, my child,” God says, “I love you, and it’s time for you to grow up.”

Scan to another scene–Multnomah graduation last Friday.  We went to celebrate with our dear friends Adam and Grace. Adam graduated with honors, earning the John G. Mitchell award, the highest seminary award given for excellence and Godly character.  Afterwards we heard all the stories from the graduates–the pastoral positions, the awesome opportunities oversees, the exciting jobs.  A part of my heart rejoiced with them, but you know what a big part of it felt:  Nothing more than selfish toddler-style envy.  With no more maturity than Dutch when he walks over and takes a toy from another baby, my heart inside wished that we had a cool story, wished that we had a neat job opportunity, wished that we had some sucker to enjoy.  And so I turn again to God right now and repent.  I ask Him to forgive me of my infantile desire for toys and candy from my heavenly Father.  For my immature view of fairness and justice. For my sublte desire to manipulate Him by thinking that by giving something up I’ll get something in return, like a person saying “You take the bigger piece of cake” knowing full well that the person will then give you the larger slice. 

Growing up is hard.  I still like suckers.  But I think I want God more.  I want to love Him with more than a childish desire for the toys and candy of life.  I’m not there yet, but I’m somewhere along the way.  And today there are no suckers, only God, and He’s enough.