do you find yourself watching the news and feeling fear rise higher than the sea level of your soul? do you find yourself holding your breath wondering what's next?
does it ever catch up with you and pin you down?
what do you do? turn off the news? only to look around and see that there is plenty to fear right here around you?
how do we not just give into the fear? how do we not just manage the fear by numbing it...turning on the latest sitcom, scroll Facebook, eat more...
is our only hope that we can just ignore the cries of the suffering in our world? how do we know where to begin when suffering is everywhere. and the news is like a zoom in lens...searching for the suffering to blare into your living room and heart
and soon our hearts either burst or become numb. what can I do? it's too much. too much for me to know what to do
I find myself angry...pointing fingers at the president. pointing fingers at "them", maybe even shaking my fists at God. if only "they" would stop our world would be better. we want to blame someone, anyone, for the suffering.
but are we left with nothing to do except make a sign and protest? is that all there is? we are told that we need to get off our lazy rears and get out there. shake our fists at the oppressors. change the world.
fear. fear. fear.
it's everywhere.
fear. fear. fear.
here, there, everywhere
even our answers are marked by fear
caught in the whirlwind of fear I react. I cannot see straight. I see the problem. I see the haters, the oppressors, and I want them to be gone. I want justice. and all I can see is the urgency of fixing the problem. act now.
but in the middle of the hurricane is the eye of the storm. literally the place where it is calm. the storm rages all around, but in the center there is peace.
stillness.
when we are caught in the storm we become a part of the storm. even our best intentions, they can be full of confusion. when we react to the storm, we create our own storms. when fear becomes anger and rage and hatred...we are allowing our hearts to become a new storm
a storm does not end another one
there is another way. step outside of the storm, or find yourself in the middle. when we know our center, and our hearts remember what is true...we have something to offer. when we have a hold on true north, the way forward, we have something true to offer. we will not create a new storm. we will offer a way forward, a way that is marked by peace, by love
but it looks slow. it may feel slow. it may not even be noticeable. everyone stirred up by the pain, the suffering, the rage, the brokenness...
but he speaks "peace, be still" to the storm. and we must step aside and hear this voice so that we can be this voice in our world
taste the peace, know the peace, and you will be the peace, you will have the peace to offer
but when you become the storm, you will create another storm...
Jesus, divine love,
we find ourselves in the middle of a storm.
all we see
all we feel
is the rage of the storm
and one storm seems followed by another
sometimes there is hardly a breath or pause between
what can we do?
how can we keep going?
is it ok to step aside and rest?
to hear that you are with us?
will this be enough?
will I have anything to offer others...
We cry out, Lord, help us!
It's too much
help us to not run away
help us to not give up
help us to not be reactive
Show us how to be your light
your peace
your love
Our world is starving
broken
hurting
suffering
But you are light
love
hope
peace
Show us the way
Thursday, August 31, 2017
Friday, August 25, 2017
at water's edge
It seems like I'm in a season of invitation to surrender, let go, and trust. To let life flow, and not resist the flow. The opposite of flowing is resisting and not being ok with what life brings. When I resist I fight the waves that come, I brace myself against the unknown, tensing my body, my mind and my soul against what I perceive as danger.
We live near the ocean. My boys love to go to the beach, and there are weeks when we make it there five days out of seven. Growing up in Oklahoma, my comfort level in the ocean is nowhere near these two boys who run out into the waves with arms outstretched. I watch from my safe beach spot as they run head on into the crashing waves. The days when the ocean is calm, I dare to venture in with them. But on these evenings when the ocean waves are high (as high as their heads) I watch in wonder. These boys get pummeled by the waves. Sometimes the waves knock them down, sometimes they crash over their heads and yet they remain standing. Sometimes the boys get their boogie boards and ride the waves in. The ocean is never dull, that is for sure. I am always amazed to sit and watch the power and beauty of water.
When we lived in Laos we observed the Mekong River. On one side was Laos, and on the other side was Thailand. Unlike the ocean, we really couldn't get into the river. It was dark brown, murky waters coming from China. While a lot of the brown was probably from the red soil beneath, I doubt that is all that the river was bringing our way. When the monsoons came we watched the river swell to fill the large gap between Laos and Thailand's banks and the waters passed quickly by. The Lao were afraid of the river--with good reason. But they respected it. We learned to respect the river as well. I love the sight of water, but I rarely stepped into the river. We saw many beautiful sunsets over the vast horizon of the river. It was a place of beauty and a reminder that we weren't just living in a big endless sprawl of a city. The city had an end at the river's edge.
And then there are creeks. I love creeks. I grew up in Oklahoma where creeks were a childhood delight. We would make our way to Colorado in the summer and the cold mountain water would become a child's invitation to play. Taking my shoes and socks off I would dip my feet into the cold water. But the nice thing about a creek is it is usually shallow on the edges. And you can see the bottom. Of course, if you venture in you better be careful or you might slip on a rock!
Water is a symbol used in many cultures and religions. It symbolizes cleansing, renewing, baptism, life. Babies are held in water until they enter our dry world. Water flows through our veins. And water is what we need to sustain our lives. As I write this I am aware of being thirsty (where is my cup of water?!) Water invites us to step in. As I sit on the water's edge there is something in me that wants to step in, to feel the water, to let it cool me, refresh me, take me out beyond the dullness of my controlled life. But often our response is hesitation and resistance. We find excuses. I don't want to get wet! I just washed my hair, I don't want it to get salty! I have clothes on, I forgot to wear my swimsuit. I am afraid because the waves look scary. Sitting here is safe (and yes, a bit boring). But what has happened? The children are still running in, excited to feel the waves crash into them. I am always in awe when a big wave pushes my youngest son down. Usually he gets back up with a smile on his face--"give me more!"--he seems to be saying! Boring? Not at all.
But fear--it doesn't want to get up out of the place of safety. Fear is like the dam that keeps the raging river controlled. It resists the natural flow of water, holding it back. But the pressure of the dam is high. The waters press into the dam with force that requires the dam to be stronger.
But sometimes I am weary of the dam. I need the flow of the water. The healing flow of saying yes to what is natural. To trust that I can let go and step in and I will be ok. I don't have to brace myself against the flow. Let the river flow. Let the waves come and crash into me. I may fall down, but I can get back up. Is that the sound of laughter and life that I hear? Is that the sound of letting go and saying yes?
We live near the ocean. My boys love to go to the beach, and there are weeks when we make it there five days out of seven. Growing up in Oklahoma, my comfort level in the ocean is nowhere near these two boys who run out into the waves with arms outstretched. I watch from my safe beach spot as they run head on into the crashing waves. The days when the ocean is calm, I dare to venture in with them. But on these evenings when the ocean waves are high (as high as their heads) I watch in wonder. These boys get pummeled by the waves. Sometimes the waves knock them down, sometimes they crash over their heads and yet they remain standing. Sometimes the boys get their boogie boards and ride the waves in. The ocean is never dull, that is for sure. I am always amazed to sit and watch the power and beauty of water.
When we lived in Laos we observed the Mekong River. On one side was Laos, and on the other side was Thailand. Unlike the ocean, we really couldn't get into the river. It was dark brown, murky waters coming from China. While a lot of the brown was probably from the red soil beneath, I doubt that is all that the river was bringing our way. When the monsoons came we watched the river swell to fill the large gap between Laos and Thailand's banks and the waters passed quickly by. The Lao were afraid of the river--with good reason. But they respected it. We learned to respect the river as well. I love the sight of water, but I rarely stepped into the river. We saw many beautiful sunsets over the vast horizon of the river. It was a place of beauty and a reminder that we weren't just living in a big endless sprawl of a city. The city had an end at the river's edge.
Water is a symbol used in many cultures and religions. It symbolizes cleansing, renewing, baptism, life. Babies are held in water until they enter our dry world. Water flows through our veins. And water is what we need to sustain our lives. As I write this I am aware of being thirsty (where is my cup of water?!) Water invites us to step in. As I sit on the water's edge there is something in me that wants to step in, to feel the water, to let it cool me, refresh me, take me out beyond the dullness of my controlled life. But often our response is hesitation and resistance. We find excuses. I don't want to get wet! I just washed my hair, I don't want it to get salty! I have clothes on, I forgot to wear my swimsuit. I am afraid because the waves look scary. Sitting here is safe (and yes, a bit boring). But what has happened? The children are still running in, excited to feel the waves crash into them. I am always in awe when a big wave pushes my youngest son down. Usually he gets back up with a smile on his face--"give me more!"--he seems to be saying! Boring? Not at all.
But fear--it doesn't want to get up out of the place of safety. Fear is like the dam that keeps the raging river controlled. It resists the natural flow of water, holding it back. But the pressure of the dam is high. The waters press into the dam with force that requires the dam to be stronger.
But sometimes I am weary of the dam. I need the flow of the water. The healing flow of saying yes to what is natural. To trust that I can let go and step in and I will be ok. I don't have to brace myself against the flow. Let the river flow. Let the waves come and crash into me. I may fall down, but I can get back up. Is that the sound of laughter and life that I hear? Is that the sound of letting go and saying yes?
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