Archive for ‘Sister Sages’

February 21, 2013

Tell Me The Story That Will Heal My Soul

wheat

I have been teaching an in depth course on the spiritual interpretation of the Song of Solomon for the past few months which has kept me happily immersed in the beautiful language of love, but as this season is winding down I am taking a Spring Sabbatical to flesh out the new inner workings of The Spirit stirring in my heart.  This beautiful message of the Indwelling Life of Christ.  I have found myself vacillating from anger ( why didn’t anyone teach this to me sooner) to a beautiful sense of the eyes of God upon my frame and his wonderful timing of things in my life.

As I find this message coming out in the strangest of places and conversations, I know it is time to put pen to pad and chronicle this journey…and so we begin with story.  Beautiful wonderful story.  Thank you to Major Ian Thomas who has passed on to be with the Lord for listening that day in your college dorm room, and receiving this message for the Body of Christ.  Thank you to my mentors and friends who have journeyed with me and ahead of me declaring the “truth” and nothing less than the truth.

In a recent article from Clarissa Pinkola Estes she makes the following statement about culture and narcissism that I find relevant and worth pondering:

“Narcissism is not falling in love with oneself; it is falling for ‘the false self”… the one which has no real heart, a cardboard self that can only mimic tenderness and toughness, but has no winged soul.

Thus a culture diagnosed with narcissism is not in love with itself, as suggested by the reductive epithet, ‘me-ism.’ A narcissistic culture is in love with a false self, one that is not real, one that is perceived to have no real issues, no reliable gifts, no real harms and thereby, no real solutions.

But, there is ever hope. Prognosis for an ill culture? It depends… mostly on cultura cura, how smaller healthier cultures within the ill culture will expand outward to heal the larger society.
One of the first ways to destroy a culture and a people, is to destroy their stories. One of the first ways a culture that has become ill can be restored is by adding back the stories that are sustaining to its people.

I have heard this challenge in my spirit.  To scribe the story that will heal the soul, and free the spirit and point the heart to the resurrected reality of the Living Christ and Savior who died, rose, ascended and is coming again.  Our Christian culture has lost the story in the midst of the madness of crafting our own life, planning our destinies, patenting our image, and demanding adherence to disciplines that are dead outside of the reality of the spirit of God at work in our mortality.

So I ask you, have you ever heard a grain of wheat talking to itself?

To be continued….

June 10, 2012

Putting The Pieces Back…

Returning to the old homestead, and putting the place in order after a renter of 11 years almost destroyed the intent and reason of the ranch has given me a new perspective of the cyclical nature of God, and our part in restoring the land, and partnering with the original intent of cultivating the garden to the non garden parts of earth.  I am weary, and ache with the amount of work that needs to be done, but there is a story evolving around every corner. As I pick up random objects, trash, and pieces of a life, I find the hint of what was, and the vision of what is to come. I am straining to listen to the heart of the Father for this season in my life.  The phrase:  “Those who have ears to hear, let them hear” has taken on a new meaning.  This poem by Mary Oliver speaks to me during this time of transition. I thought I would share the “story” with you.

Breakage

By Mary Oliver

I go down to the edge of the sea.
How everything shines in the morning light!
The cusp of the whelk,
the broken cupboard of the clam,
the opened, blue mussels,
moon snails, pale pink and barnacle scarred—
and nothing at all whole or shut, but tattered, split,
dropped by the gulls onto the gray rocks and all the moisture gone.
It’s like a schoolhouse
of little words,
thousands of words.
First you figure out what each one means by itself,
the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop
       full of moonlight.
Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story.
May 3, 2012

My Restless Heart

“Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord,
and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.” ―St. Augustine

I have been pondering this reality for months.  We are made for our God. Not for any other endeavor but to worship the one who crafted us with his hands, his words, his breathe.  An object of His fascination and desire, we will stay in this state of discontent until our internal longings are satisfied with the beauty of His face. We have been torn from the purpose and meaning of our existence, and He is daily bringing us to a place of gazing, to discover our image.  To remind us of our reflection.  Often we catch a glimpse of our true selves in the kind face of strangers extending love to strangers, benevolent pauses as we consider one another in the hallways of life.  We hear our native tongue when healing syllables of life flow from lips that choose to bleed rather than hurl curses at the offender.  We are reminded for a moment that we belong “other” than this dysfunction of existence we tear our way through on any given day.  We belong to a kingdom ruled by a King of Righteousness who shall reign forever, and ever.  So, we comfort one another s restless hearts, as we gently lift chins to the horizon, and remind ourselves….we were made to gaze on beauty.

 

April 21, 2012

Change-A Vision of Love

-”you can’t really know something until you’ve seen it transformed by change. You must see it in all the angles of light and shadow provided for by time. You must see it in wind and in rain, under a blanket of snow, in the gentle light of spring, in the hazy heat of late summer, in the crisp cool of an autumn day. You must witness it in twilight and at sunrise, in thunderstorms and under the light of the moon and stars. Only then do you get a glimpse of the spirit lurking underneath. Only then do you begin to understand it.”-Andy Goldsworthy, artist as quoted by Danielle on her blog The Teacup Chronicles.

This quote has captivated my musing for several days now.  What a great observation of life.  I must ask the question if I  love with change in view?  Do I have the vision to see someone in a winter season, full of spring blossoms, and laden in the summer sun with fruit abundant?  Do I steady my heart gaze through long winter days of drought and dreary moments knowing that love conquers death?  Have I seen myself this way?  Do I believe in the faithfulness of my Maker, to shepherd me to new seasons?

Jer 29:11  For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.

Our Lord has an expectation of future and hope for his Beloved.  As his friends we must ask ourselves if  we  “see” those in our care?  Do we watch expectantly for the first blooms combing the branches of the heart with gentle hands waiting for the promise of spring, or are we quick with the pruning shears lopping off relationships we are sure are dead only to mourn the blossoming branch laying on the ground withering, and separated from our life? I desire to have this kind of vision that sees woody, leafless branches in the grey of winter and can smell the fragrance of fruit.

Oh Lord.  Help me to keep my pruning hook in the shed.  You are the Master Gardener, you decide the shape of my life, mine is to receive, and give the life you have given me.  Open my eyes Lord. I want to see you at work in the Earth of my feet, the Earth of my hands,  and the Earth of my heart.

 

Shared with Seedlings in Stone.

April 17, 2012

A Jesus Heart

“Scorn has broken my heart”- Psalm 69:20

This Psalm that speaks to us prophetically of Christ, tells us that our Lord ultimately died of a broken heart.  Is it not a place of comfort to know that for many of us who have felt the abusive pummel of hard words, and scornful spite, that we have a Savior that can speak to the suffering of man’s reproach, and God’s silence?  Where we have sustained wounds, he allowed them to destroy his gracious heart.  Thorough research has been done by medical practitioners into what actually happened to Jesus physically on the cross and they tell us, his heart literally broke as evidenced by the water and the blood when his side was pierced.  Torn like a sacrificial dove, this tabernacle of compassion, opened that we might come in.  What did it sound like for the Creator’s crimson heart of mercy to be rend?  The Word tells us the earth heaved and shook violently, rocks split in two, the heavy woven curtain of the Temple that separated men from the Mercy Seat was ripped top to bottom.  There was a great noise.  Not a silent weeping, or a quiet sigh.  How the lintels of human attempt to contain the heart of God must have shook and rolled as the flood waters of grace rushed at man.  Centuries of separation destroyed in a day for the love of the Father, and the love of the Son. Do we know how high? How wide? How great is the Father’s love for us who believe?

Eph 2:4-7  but God, being rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us,  even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ (by grace have ye been saved), and raised us up with him, and made us to sit with him in the heavenly places, in Christ Jesus: that in the ages to come he might show the exceeding riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus:

Do you hear the anthem of the Jesus Heart?  Rich, great, alive, grace, heavenly places, exceeding riches, kindness.  It beats  a communion song of lavish love towards us, for ages yet to come.  Not a one time event, a cursory peck on the cheek, but a daily declaration of worth, value, and desire.  Have we come in?  He was rent that we might come in.  We sing the song:  Come into my heart Lord Jesus, we talk about our heart his home, and making room in my heart  for Thee Lord, yet I wonder if we are missing something grand and powerful.  If we haven’t perhaps turned the gospel into a bit of a Me-World self help manual.  Have we entered His heart?  Have we accepted his pierced hand extended and crossed the threshold of his sacrificial love, and sat with him on the seat of Mercy, a heavenly place?  In that place of awe found our own heart transformed?

I find myself asking this morning to come into His heart.  To know the kindness of his embrace, and the warmth of love for those outside.  I can not love, unless I am in His heart.   I will lash back when I am lashed, I will strike when struck unless I am hidden in the tabernacle of the most high.  The Emmanuel of Mercy is my refuge and my hiding place, whom shall I fear?  Of whom shall I be afraid when love rules through me-A Jesus Heart extended.

April 8, 2012

Spirit Seed

I have just finished the book The Faithful Gardener by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, I highly recommend this read.  The powerful way she weaves story and prose and life places you in her remembering moments, and you begin to look for that which will never die, in your own life.

I am caught by a phrase at the end of her book where she has told of Uncle burning the field, and waiting for the faithful seed to come by wind, and bird and bumbling creature, to build a forest again.  They watch the field burn as they stand waiting for their war torn lives,  to be built again:

What is this faithful process of spirit and seed that touches empty ground and makes it rich again? Its greater workings I cannot claim to understand.  But I know this:  Whatever we set our days to might be the least of what we do, if we do not also understand that something is waiting for us to make ground for it, something that lingers near us, something that loves, something that waits for the right ground to be made so it can make its full presence known.

I am feeling the wind of this phrase in the quiet moments of my days.  Change is coming. I am not in control of the seeds dropped, I am only earth. I open and receive what the Ruach deposits.  I open and receive the rain the Father sends, I can do nothing more, nothing less.  I have allowed the Master Gardener to plow and burn the field of my heart, to make room for love to grow, now I wait and receive, that I might give to the seed he deposits.

Father, teach me to wait, that I might give.

Shared with Seedlings In Stone.

March 14, 2012

If-his blame depresses me

If the praise of man elates me and his

blame depresses me;

if I cannot rest under misunderstanding without

defending myself;

if I love to be loved more than to love,

to be served more than to serve,

then I know nothing of Calvary love

-Amy Carmichael, IF.

The ability to be unmoved by the praise or accusation of man, for the sake or cause of Christ is a place I am consciously pursing. I desire to be seated In HIM in heavenly places and unmoved by the fleeting accolades, and the far too numerous accusations of man.  To be secure in my identity as the beloved of God, called according to His purposes, and not the appointments of man, to live steady under His gaze is a desire, and goal of my heart.

I do not know yet what it is like to live “at rest” under misunderstanding.  The desire to justify the intents and purposes of my actions pushes me to voice my concerns and clarify my point when misunderstanding arises.  I am searching for the  balance between ” if you know your brother has something against you, go to him”  and “being silent before your accusers”.  I am looking to find the shelter in his embrace that though the world wag their head and “say all manner of evil” against me, it doesn’t change who I am in The Beloved. That place that keeps me in love, though I am moved against in hate. I have the knowledge in my mind, but I need it to be a reality in my heart. For out of the heart we live.  Search my heart oh Lord…where is this reality?

Father, help me to not rise to my own defense when others think wrongly of me. Let me learn that place in the fellowship of your sufferings where abiding in you is my natural, not second or third response.  I ask you to show me the rest that is available to me in the knowledge of your love, a place that is my refuge, and my strong tower of defense.  Show me the servants towel, and the gentle way your hands wash the feet of your enemy.  Show me how to love.  How to give of myself unreservedly and how to receive unashamedly.

 

March 12, 2012

If-interupptions annoy me

“If interruptions annoy me, and private

cares make me impatient;

If I shadow the souls around me

because I myself am shadowed,

then I know nothing of Calvary love.”

–Amy Carmichael-IF

Interruptions as credentials of indispensability?

“When you are exasperated by interruptions, try to remember that their very frequency may indicate the value of your life. Only people who are full of help and strength are burdened by other persons’ needs. The interruptions which we chafe at are the credentials of our indispensability. The greatest condemnation that anybody could incur – and it is a danger to guard against – is to be so independent, so unhelpful, that nobody ever interrupts us, and we are left comfortably alone.”

-Anonymous

What an honor that people know your desk, office, home is a place where gracious attention to their lives could be found.  So often  souls pass in anonymity with each other, and themselves. To be an open door in a world closed to intimate knowing of ourselves, and the God who gave himself for us, is a privilege not to be taken lightly.

The phrase “shadow the souls around me”  is echoing this morning.  How sad it would be if those around me crave the warmth of the Son, and are denied basking in the brightness because a consistent cloud of my own impatient irritation moves in front of their communion.  To be one who blocked the life-giving rays of the love of God from my brothers or sisters and left them, after their time with me,  more anemic than they came, would be a tragedy of the deepest sort.

Oh God, teach me to cast my cares upon you, and learn of your perfect care for me, that my vessel will be translucent and open, reflecting the awesome light of the Christ who dwells within me, bright and radiant and rich in glory.  That no cloud of selfish ambition, or impatience with tasks uncompleted would keep me from tending the souls  you place in my care, and always pointing them to the Son. The source of life and love.

March 8, 2012

If- The care of a soul

If the care of a soul (or a community) be entrusted to me,

and I consent to subject it to weakening influences,

because the voice of the world-

my immediate Christian world-

fills my ears,

then I know nothing of Calvary love.

Amy-Carmichael, IF

Proverbs 2:2  Incline your ear to wisdom and your heart to understanding

It is a privilege to be entrusted with a soul. To care for and nurture the inner man with weighty substance of things eternal.  The phrase:  “voice of the world” echoes deep. What are the sounds I have trained my ear to listen for?  Earthly pleasures? Pleasing promises? Accolades? Most worthy causes? Does my ear know how to pick out the phrases of a soul’s heart cry when the face before me is all smiles and “no worries?”  Do I discern the voice behind the words?  Do I listen for heart phrases, and silent sighs? Have I turned from the still and small to embrace the clamor and clang of man’s cymbal-lic honors, and tinkling praise? Oh Lord, let me not consent to weaken the message of hope, or bend under the pressure of the praise of men.  Let me fear The King, and know wisdom.  Let me love the silence between the words and know Calvary love.

Pro 9:10  The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom: and the knowledge of the holy is understanding.

March 4, 2012

If-I can not forget

If I say, “Yes, I forgive, but I cannot forget,”

as though the God, who twice a day washes all the

 

sands on all the shores of all the world,

could not wash such memories from my mind,

then I know nothing of Calvary love.

Unforgiven.  The ancient pain.  The sages tell us that after the fall, Adam took a 120 year walk-a-bout from Eve.  God had to bring him back to her.  If that is true, how well that speaks to relationships today.  Can we say we have truly “forgiven”, when we refuse to forget the trespass?  As we replay over and over the hurtful scenarios we find that we never leave the place of offense and this more often than not is what causes us to  break community and suffer the first great pain, that of being alone.  Isolated and hurting the God of all compassion comes to us and desires to wash us, with the water of his Word, as he washes the sands of the shore.  There is no memory, no pain, no fear so great that He can not deliver us from the sting of it.  Like the memory of childbirth is faded in the heart of the mother with the joy of the child in her arms, so the labor to stay in community and relationship is forgotten when the sweet one accord of fellowship reigns in our midst.  How sweet it is when the brethren dwell together  in unity. Psalm 133:1.

Gal 6:1-2  Brethren, even if a man be overtaken in any trespass, ye who are spiritual, restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness; looking to thyself, lest thou also be tempted. Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.

It is the mark of one who has become “spiritual” when the fruit of their life is restoration, and not destruction.

Oh Lord, make me a spirit-filled one. Cause my heart to run to you when the pain of wounding words, and hurtful deeds threaten to keep me from possessing my birthright. Wash my mind, and my heart with your Word. Remind me who I am in you, and who I am in this world.  Help me to forgive, as I have been forgiven and know again the power of Calvary Love.

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