the refuge blog

Living "As If"

2012-05-14T07:15:00.001-06:00

- by Richard

We all wear masks, don’t we? For me, it’s been more like a full-body suit. I started wearing it when I was a little boy: my suit was “the good little boy” – quiet, polite, thoughtful, wanting to make his parents happy. Inside that suit was a scared, confused, ashamed child, unable to express his feelings out loud. As I grew, I learned that I could get the admiration of others by being the good kid. Even as an adult, I wore that “good kid” suit – seeking to make myself feel better by helping others, telling others what they wanted to hear, showing others how wise and compassionate I could be.

But all the while, underneath, I was churning with fear, self-doubt, deep shame and self-loathing for the “real me” that was concealed inside my carefully-tended suit. At a time of deep depression and fear, I wrote in my journal, “Who is the real me?” And I have kept on asking, “Am I the admirable person I pretend to be, or the self-seeking, lustful, shameful person I have tried for over sixty years to hide behind that phony suit?”

I am blessed with a Christian therapist (I call him my “shrinkologist”) who challenged my either-or thinking and suggested something almost unthinkable: that maybe the mask, the body suit, wasn’t as phony as I’ve always thought it was. He said, “What if the admirable you, the caring and wise you, is your true self? What if the ‘you’ that is addicted, selfish, scared and ashamed is actually a big phony? He challenged me to start living as if that were true.

Living “as if.” I have determined to take him up on his challenge. So I’m trying to live it. I am trying to live “as if” I am a loving, confident disciple of Jesus. I am trying to live “as if” God is love. “As if” Christ is risen indeed. “As if” the universe is friendly and the world is full of beauty – full of the glory of God.

Yes, I know, a lot is wrong, ugly, terrifying, unjust, and unlovely about the world. And a lot is wrong with me! I don’t pretend that these realities don’t exist. After all, Jesus went to the cross for us – even for me! – and it’s hard to imagine a death more horrible than a Roman crucifixion. I don’t need to pretend that evil doesn’t exist. But, thanks be to God, the cross isn’t the end of the story! I don’t want to live “as if” Jesus had accomplished no victory there. I don’t want to live “as if” it’s all up to me, as if death and evil could defeat Love. I want to live “as if” in Christ “we are more than conquerors” over all the evil the world can throw at us (Romans 8:37).

Living “as if” the Gospel is true, even for me, has to do with what I pay attention to, how I view things. I choose, today, not to live “as if” people would despise me if they really knew me. I choose, today, not to live “as if” evil is in charge and that I should be very, very afraid. I choose, today, not to live “as if” there is no hope. I choose, rather, to live “as if” these words from Paul are a good idea: “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things (Philippians 4:8).”

And do you know what? Living “as if” God’s promises can be trusted has been for me a source of deep joy. Not all the time – I can’t pretend that everything is rosy or that all the defects in my character are simply melting away. But I am discovering that the “real me” – the one who wants to serve God and extend His love – is becoming more and more authentic, and that God can accomplish miracles, even in me and even through me. How ‘bout that? Wow, God. Just wow.

Time to Fly Out of the Nest

2012-05-08T11:30:00.000-06:00

- by Tami

Let's talk about Gen X'ers-- Oh yeh, that oh-so-maddening-and-uncomfortable subject that brings out the weird nature in us all. Politics, psychology, and religion--all wrapped up in one. That's generational talk.

Imagine this: A young Generation X'er (we're infamous as the "latchkey kids," born between '61 and '81), married to an older Gen X'er, who was actually raised by Depression-Era folks... Yeh, it's dynamite. That's my husband and me... We like to make money, but we feel guilty about it. We have strong conservative values because we were raised in a small town, but we also believe in social justice. I suppose we're a bunch of what seem like contradictions. But we don't feel like we are-- It all makes sense to us... Most Boomers know they are Boomers. Most Millennials (Gen Y) know they are Millennials. If you don't know which generation you belong to, chances are, you're an X'er. Sadly, Gen X'ers are regarded as the most neglected generation in modern history. Isn't that great news? LOL. We are the ones who were left alone in the nest.

"Here's the bad news for Gen X: at each point thus far, you've drawn a pretty short straw. Your timing — at least in the context of contemporary generations, and through no fault of your own — could hardly have been worse. Not only did your childhood years coincide with social changes that significantly eroded trust and idealism, but during the early years of your adulthood, you have hit various economic landmarks at unfavorable points in the cycle. More than ever, X'ers are being challenged to invent their own path forward. As it has been before, that path will almost certainly be less guided by conventional rules and less dependent on traditional institutions, than by X'ers' own sense of self-reliance and quest for multiple options. I encourage X'ers to re-imagine the next 30-50 years of your life: most of you won't have the institutionally-funded retirement options that many Traditionalists have enjoyed or the housing-based nest egg that provides many Boomers with the flexibility to blend volunteer and paid work over the years ahead. But you have your own ingenuity and entrepreneurial skills with which to build a unique future. X'ers' past challenges have developed perspectives that I believe are well-suited to the needs and realities of today's world. X'ers should avoid even trying to follow the Boomers' path and, instead, have confidence to bring your own pragmatic sensibility both to organizational leadership — and to the design of your own life plan."

Great. Thank you, Tammy Erickson, Harvard business lady. It all comes down to primal instincts and our will to survive--life will suck, but we'll overcome it with our ninja instincts... Nice, we'll learn to fly all by ourselves. I hope our wings are big enough and strong enough.

Ah, but here's where the feathers meet the sky. Jeff and I agree that when it comes to work and life, we crave flexibility and balance. We don't like things getting in the way of our time with family or "our time." Gen X has emerged with our own set of values, the greatest being spending time with family. Employers, which are generally older Boomers don't much care for this, and the younger generation who have decided to wait to have children until they are much older tend to resent having to "cover" for X'ers, but this is how it is at present. And unfortunately, the result of all that neglect is also to over-parent... I can definitely say that's been my tendency. I have often not known which way was up or down, and been in constant fear about what was right or wrong, or whether I was messing my kids up or hurting their self-esteem, or-- You get the idea. I've been flapping as hard and as fast as I can...

As Mother's Day approaches, my mind is drawn to how much we humans really need purpose, meaning, our need for significance. For every little person out there, there is a need for a mentor. For every man or woman who grew up without a mother or with a mother who was emotionally unavailable to them, there is a need for re-parenting, a deep need for love and acceptance from someone who can show them how to accept love and care with appropriate boundaries and in a context of ample safety. And of course, I don't want to forget those who grew up in actually great situations! :0) There are some good mama birds out there who got it right the first time.

This is what has healed me, and what has helped me pass into a place of hope, where I can fly and see past the Gen X curse. I'm so thankful for my actual mom, and also the "moms" who stepped up where she couldn't at the time... They were willing to take me under their wings.

And now, it's my turn. I've been in the nest for such a long time, and now it's finally my time to fly... I've been hovering for awhile, a little nervous to really go too far out. But it's time to start to go out a bit more, and maybe begin to take someone under my wing perhaps...

Isn't This How Church is Supposed to Be?

2012-04-30T10:38:00.001-06:00

- by Jeff

My daughter and I went to a convention last week; you know, the ones where fans dress up as their favorite movie or TV character and everyone goes to sessions to make fun of shows from their childhood or to debate if Wonder Woman should wear pants. I saw how no one made fun of anyone else, and everyone seemed to enjoy sharing each other's company.

In fact, everyone was having so much fun on the first day I decided to dress up myself on the next day.

Although it was fun to be "in costume", I never felt judged that my costume wasn't accurate; in fact, even those who didn't dress up weren't looked down on for not taking part.

Isn't this how the church is supposed to be?

The wild and crazy mixed up with the serious and serene?

Everyone having so much fun the newcomer just can't help but want to join in?

I think that's EXACTLY how it should be, and I'm going to think long and hard on how I can contribute to the fun.

Who knows? Maybe I'll start coming in a costume...

Relief Work is Sexy

2012-04-23T13:21:00.000-06:00

- by Dave

Relief work is sexy. After a disaster, the media arrives and shows the devastation and people are moved, rightly so, by the horrifying images. The money and support begins to flow. The re-construction and aid begin to fill the vacuum that was left behind by the catastrophe. Like an emergency room team, the hope is to stabilize the situation enough to remove the danger of death. People from all walks of life and all income levels feel a call to be a part of the situation. They text $ and feel compelled to watch the latest news updates on the situation. This response is much needed and has saved countless lives and I am thankful for the relief it offers.

But after the cameras leave and the newness passes, the slow and often ugly process of development begins its march. It deals with the red-tape of government systems which are often corrupt or inept. It plods through past practices which possibly helped lead to the disaster. It confronts broken systems and feels the weight of funds that are no longer available. Ultimately it runs into the hearts of those involved.

It is here that lasting change takes place. It is in the dignity, hope and value of the people.

Even the very relief that was brought can make a people feel less capable. As they watch the transformation of those things visible, they may begin to feel even more hopeless. They know, at some point, the relief will end and they begin to believe the only way for change is for groups from the outside to come and save the day. Those groups are often happy to oblige. They accomplish a project, take a picture and ask for more $ to accomplish their good works and move on to the next disaster. They leave feeling good about all that they’ve accomplished. But left behind are hearts of those born into a battle that appears insurmountable.

True development happens as people feel worthy of more. As they find the hope to dream of a different situation for themselves or for their children or their children’s children. As they rise up and find the strength to fight for more, both from themselves and from those around. As they see themselves as children of God and that they have value. It is when they raise their heads up with dignity that change cannot be stopped.

As I began Hope 2 Others International about 5 years ago, I wanted to focus on something that all people deserve. Clean water. How degrading it must be to spend so much of your time, strength and income to get something so basic. Even then, it is often contaminated and is the source of the diarrhea that is killing your children. But water for me, is just a tool. It is a tool for change.

It is a way to work together with brothers and sisters from all over the world to change the situation they are living in. For them to see they are able to accomplish something that is life altering. That they can provide for their families and for those in even greater need than themselves. That someone wants to be with them in their struggle and to fight alongside them. That they are worthy.

As I chose to walk with God, he performed a huge relief work in my own life. But it is His willingness to stay in for the long haul and do development in my life that I am most thankful. It is His patience and mercy, as I feel stuck and hopeless, that bears witness to His love. It is in the community He has provided that I feel the strength to get up one more time and fight for change. Development isn’t always sexy, but as ugly as it is, it always seems lovely.

Friday the 13th and the 12 Steps

2012-04-16T07:40:00.001-06:00

Last week I celebrated Friday the 13th. Though I am not superstitious, I don't walk under ladders, try not to break mirrors and avoid black cats at all costs. That is mainly because I don't want somebody to drop something on my head, don't like picking up shards of glass and am not fond of any color felines.

In fact, 13 is one of my favorite numbers, and for the last 37 years Friday the 13th, in April, has held a special place in my heart. 56 years ago, Friday the 13th of April, was the birth of a precious lady who would 19 years later become my bride. So you could say Friday the 13th is my "lucky" day.

It is interesting how our mindset can skew our perception of certain days or events. Halloween has never been quite the same since my dad died on that day in 1968. Christmas forever changed for my cousins when my uncle shot himself in front of their Christmas tree. Times of the year that seem festive and joyous for some may be filled with sadness and grief for others. Or vice versa.
While facilitating a grief group I was faced with the delicate problem of how to articulate the possibility that positive healing could come from the death of a loved one, without appearing to be unloving or uncaring. How could I share what God had been revealing to me since Debbie's death and not seem callous and heartless?

It took a few years, but God showed me that her death was the most important thing that had happened to me with the exception of my relationship with Him. What had seemed like the death of my hope and dreams became the beginning of the true life that God had always planned for me. Just as death leads to new life everywhere in nature, pain leads to healing. Deb's death forced me to look at life in a whole new light. From the place of ownership and taking personal responsibility for my character defects and in my own healing journey of what had been done to me. Through an interesting set of painful circumstances I was forced to look deeply into my heart and soul and come face-to-face with the real me. The good, the bad and the ugly. What I saw was disgusting, distressing and extremely overwhelming. I had lanced a boil on my heart and the puss came oozing out. For over fifty years I had been able to stuff, hide and put a positive face on my junk; but as God opened my heart to reality, it wasn't possible anymore. The old denial or posing no longer was able to fill the aching hole in my heart and my very being.

As we celebrated Easter last week I was reminded of a powerful truth. It could be argued that the single most tragic event in history was the killing of Jesus. But that painful event brought about eternal life for us. Pain can lead to incredible redemption, but only if we are willing to participate in our own healing. What was meant to destroy us can be used to draw us closer to the heart of God.

But this doesn't just happen.

We must accept our pain and work through it.

Henri Nouwen, in the book "The Inner Voice of Love" says:

"Your pain, deep as it is, is connected with a specific circumstance. You do not suffer in abstract. You suffer because someone hurts you at a specific time and in a specific place. Your feelings of rejection, abandonment, and uselessness are rooted in the most concrete events. In this way all suffering is unique. This is eminently true of the suffering of Jesus. His disciples left Him. Pilate condemned Him. Roman soldiers tortured and crucified Him.

Still, as long as you keep pointing to the specific, you will miss the full meaning of your pain. You will deceive yourself into believing that if the people, circumstances and events had been different, your pain would not exist. This might be partly true, but the deeper truth is that the situation which brought about your pain was simply the form in which you came in touch with the human condition of suffering. Your pain is the concrete way in which you participate in the pain of humanity.

Paradoxically, therefore, healing means moving from YOUR PAIN to THE PAIN. When you keep focusing on the specific circumstances of your pain, you easily become angry, resentful and even vindictive. You are inclined to do something about the externals of your pain in order to relieve it; this explains why you often seek revenge. But real healing comes from realizing that your particular pain is a share in the humanity's pain. That realization allows you to forgive your enemies and enter into a truly compassionate life. That is the way of Jesus, who prayed on the cross: "Father forgive them; they do not know what they are doing" (Luke 23:34). Jesus' suffering, concrete as it was, was the suffering of all humanity. HIS PAIN. was THE PAIN.

Every time you can shift your attention away from the external situation that caused your pain and focus on the pain of humanity in which you participate, your suffering becomes easier to bear. It becomes a "light burden" and an "easy yoke" (Matthew. 11:30). Once you discover that you are called to live in solidarity with the hungry, the homeless, the prisoner, the refugee, the sick and the dying, your very personal pain begins to convert into the pain and you find new strength to live. Herein lies the hope of all Christians."

My pain pales in comparison to the unfathomable physical, emotional and sexual abuse, mental illness, and other tortures that mark the landscape of the hearts of some of my dearest friends. No human should have to endure such atrocities against their bodies, minds or souls.

That being said, it is up to us to participate in our own healing.

"There is real pain in your heart, a pain that truly belongs to you. You know now that you cannot avoid, ignore, or repress it. It is this pain that reveals to you how you are called to live in solidarity with the broken human race. You must distinguish carefully, however, between your pain and the pains that have attached themselves to it but are not truly yours. When you feel rejected, when you think of yourself as a failure and a misfit, you must be careful not to let these thoughts pierce your heart. You are not a failure or a misfit. Therefore, you have to disown these pains as false. They can paralyze you and prevent you from loving the way you are called to love."- Henri Nouwen

A counselor once told me this story: you are crossing the street and get hit by a drunk driver and are laying in the street. It was not your fault, but it is your responsibility, with the help of your friends, to get out of the street, into the hospital, and do the therapy, both physical and mental, it takes in order for you to be able to live and function, again.

Metaphorically speaking. I was hit by the drunk driver as a child. For over 50 years I laid in the street and was repeatedly hurt by careless uncaring vehicles, both big and small. Ten years ago I was motivated, by the pain, to drag myself into the hospital (for me it was a 12 step recovery program and getting into therapy). Some of the pain stopped and healing began. But as I started to receive some relief from the pain, I left the hospital and didn't continue the necessary work to walk in freedom.

I was crippled by unforgiveness and blaming the drunk driver.

When I had this epiphany I think I may have come to my senses. You see, in my case the drunk I was blaming was the little me. The stupid, ugly, unlovable little kid with the weird glasses. I was using little Mikey as a scapegoat so I didn't have to take responsibility for my life and grow up into the man God has planned me to be. Instead, I was being a victim, having my little pity party. Blaming the world and God for how my life had turned out. There is a time when, like denial, acknowledging we have been victimized is a healthy survival mechanism. Unfortunately, in can become toxic, paralyzing and life robbing if we choose to live there. It felt ugly to me when my old friend, the 12 steps, pointed it out to me.

But it helped begin to heal me in a new way, too. And for that I am so grateful.

So it's back to the hospital for me.

Just surviving is not enough. I long to be alive and thrive.

Maybe the day I had that epiphany will be a "luckier" day for me than Friday the 13th!!

resurrection stories

2012-04-09T07:56:00.000-06:00

- by kathy

happy day-after-easter, refuge. it was a really pretty holy week around here, with a fun & beautiful seder dinner on wednesday, art on maundy thursday, sacred & meaningful space to reflect on Jesus' death for good friday, and a hope-filled saturday night easter celebration. and just to top if off, it was a gorgeous sunny day for our egg-hunt and brunch yesterday. for a little church, we definitely know how to celebrate!

now, with all of the festivities over, what does easter mean for us? what does this cycle of death-lament-resurrection really look like, feel like, in our own lives?

this easter, we pulled together a little book that some of you got at our easter service called "refuge resurrection stories". they are so beautiful. and so brave! they remind me that God-is-at-work in all kinds of ways that sometimes we can't see. they remind me that transformation takes a long time and that miracles don't usually look like instantaneous healing but they are still miracles nonetheless.

anytime we choose life instead of death, it's a miracle.
anytime we are transformed from despair to hope, it's a miracle.
anytime we haven't given up even though we wanted to, it's a miracle.
anytime we are honest instead of hiding, it's a miracle.
anytime we stayed in instead of run away, it's a miracle.
anytime we soak in the reality of God's love for us, it's a miracle.

so this is a little book of 18 miracles, all through different lenses. 18 stories of somehow being born again, in big or small ways.

i wanted to extend the offer to others who may not have had the chance on such a short deadline to get their stories to us so we can keep adding to this book of hope, a reminder that God is transforming us, healing us, resurrecting us. as karl shared on saturday night, we are being born again--over and over and over again.

here is the simple template we used, knowing you can always feel free to go any direction that feels right to you to share your resurrection story. just remember, no more than 750 words. email them to me at kathy@therefugeonline.org. if you weren't there on saturday and want a copy, grab one this weekend or email me and we can figure out how to get it to you.

____________'s Story

3 movements, they don't need to be equal weight but touch on them all. the #3 is the most important.

1. Describe where you were:
            What was life like?
            What were you feeling during this season?
            What needed to "die"?

2. What began to shift things?
            Describe the turning point, where something began to change.
            What did God stir up for you?
            What did that look like, feel like?

3. What emerged or is emerging?
            Describe the changes you are experiencing.
            What is coming alive or being born in you?   Where are you feeling hope?
            What are you learning about God, yourself, or others?

* * * * *

i'll close with the blessing that chrissy & stacy shared at the end of our gathering on saturday, my hope for us this week. here's to more & more resurrection!

As we leave today, may we go with hope
Hope that life overcomes death

May we go with peace,
knowing that God is with us always, will never leave us, never forsake us

May we go with joy,
singing songs of the transforming work that's happening in our lives

May we go with love,
serving others with humility and patience

May we go with awe,
that resurrection is all around us.

And may we go with willingness,
hearts soft and open to being born again,
and again, and again

He is Risen,

We are risen.

Amen.

Transformation

2012-04-02T08:31:00.000-06:00

- by Mary

Butterflies are beautiful. I doubt that anyone would disagree with me. Because I see them so seldom, I am somewhat awestruck by their beauty, but I rarely stop to think about the process that precedes that beauty.

In her book, WHEN THE HEART WAITS, Sue Monk Kidd describes so beautifully our own process of waiting in the dark cocoon.

“Whenever new life grows and emerges, darkness is crucial to the process. Whether it’s the caterpillar in the chrysalis, the seed in the ground, the child in the womb or the the True Self in the soul, there’s always a time of waiting in the dark.

In the ensuing darkness God often seems absent. We begin to encounter Deus absconditis—the sense that God is playing hide and seek. I believe that what we’re experiencing, however is the hiding of an old way of knowing and experiencing God, the crumbling of our “creation” of who God is and the divine system that our egos have invested in.

In the darkness God becomes the ungraspable Mystery, the one who unleashes a tune so spellbinding that we’re compelled to follow, to stumble through shadowed corridors until we find the source of it. We’re being drawn beyond where we are into an entirely new way of relating to God, one that’s beyond anything we’ve even imagined.”

A butterfly can stay in its cocoon anywhere from two weeks to the entire winter. The process just has to unfold in its own time. I find that to be the difficult thing—to just let it be, take my hands off of it, embrace it and let it unfold in its time.

I read somewhere that the the most beautiful butterflies emerge from the ugliest cocoons. That make me smile.

The power in a name

2012-03-26T10:20:00.001-06:00

by Stacy

I am 100% confident that my mother had no idea what my name meant when she named me. I have always liked my name, despite the proclivity to misspellings.

In a really powerful moment last week, I was reminded about a pretty important fact, in relation to the meaning of my name. The Greek origin of the name Stacy means "resurrection” or “One who shall rise again”. It wasn’t until I intersected with the faith world as a 17 year old that I saw those statements printed on a little floral pocket card. I really didn’t give it much thought at the time, but I do remember thinking that maybe, that meant something special for me.

Starting with my family of origin, I struggle with a core issue of neglect. I believe that is one of the reasons that I try really hard to stress to each child that comes across my path that he/she has a voice that deserves to be heard. I think that reading that, by virtue of my name, there was maybe, just maybe, Someone was paying attention to me, whispering that there was hope, reminding me that there was intended to be a renewing beyond what was present.

This ~~extrafreakinglong~~ intense season of healing in my life has, for sure, felt like a series of deaths. What I am planning to stay mindful of, however, is that before I was even old enough to understand, my title was tied up in hope. Hope that there is a beyond the rubble. Hope that I have a future that far exceeds my limited vision.

Yeah, I am going to lean into the little reminder of “one who shall rise again” this season.

Does your name have special meaning to you? Would you re-name yourself if given the opportunity?

The Wisdom of the Paper Towel Holder

2012-03-19T07:48:00.000-06:00

- by Michelle

The towels are folded, the dishes are finally done, again, and the toys from the grandbabies are neatly gathered back in the play basket. Finally, a Sunday morning to read and relax. Then I saw the wooden snowman perched atop the paper towel holder. I swear he winked at me, as if to brag that he, one of 12 exchangeable wooden emblems of the seasons, still held the towel holder’s seasonal throne long past the time of frost and snow. The first yellow tulips, now peaking out from under the dried leaves of last fall, remind me I had not even gotten to switching over to the Valentine heart or the St. Paddy’s hat. “Well, St. Patrick’s day was just yesterday, you’re not too far behind,” I encouraged myself.

My memory wandered back, over a decade, when my well-meaning mother had gifted me with the Paper Towel Holder that came with 12 small wooden tokens, one for each month of the year. I still remember the sinking feeling when I opened the gift. Each one of the cute wooden cut-outs seemed to mock me: “You can’t even keep up with the laundry or the dishes, how are you going to remember to change out the top to this paper towel holder every month? Then came the feeling of resentment, feeling my mom was once again, secretly chiding me for my lack of domestic management skills.

Now, a decade later, I realize my mom simply thought I might like the quaint paper towel holder, that no secret messages came with her gift. And, more importantly, I have thankfully learned that I can care for myself and my small corner of the world in all the important ways. Everyone now does their own laundry. The dishes…well, they still pile up, but somehow they always manage to get done. And the seasons of my life move on. Sometimes I miss a few. Sometimes I actually get a little bit of a head start on a season or two. Either way, I’ve learned its all good and I will be ok in each season of my life. Even the ones that feel out of control despite my best efforts of domesticating the Wild Mysteries of Life!

So, I wink back at Mr. Snowman and tenderly take him off his pedestal atop the Paper Towel Holder. I skip over the wooden Valentine’s heart and the St. Paddy’s hat in the back of the kitchen drawer. “Maybe next year,” I promise. And I place the April tulip atop the faded Paper Towel Holder, grateful for it’s wisdom in this new season of my life.

Takin my time...

2012-03-12T09:23:00.002-06:00

by Tami
I was born in the hot Summer of 1974. My mother's due date was around graduation, and they had to roll the car out onto the field just in case we decided to come during the ceremony; of course, we didn't budge. My twin sister and I were overdue, so we were induced.
I can take a page from that little story about me-- that I took my time being born... In those days, inducing meant medication was administered to the mother during delivery which, as it did for most mothers back then, pretty much rendered her unconscious. It made babies fairly groggy as well, so I came into this world in a crazy little haze...

"I tell you the truth, no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born again."--John 3:3

Now since then, I've grown up a little. Being in the wee corners of the Bible Belt, I've said "the sinner's prayer"--- a few times. I wasn't raised in an evangelical family at all, but I said the prayer because I attended Wednesday Bible Club; then again at a Summer VBS I was invited to, again at Wednesday Bible Club, and then at a four-square youth rally. I was assured each time that I was well-covered by the blood of the lamb (this was not comforting to me), and going to Heaven (I want my certificate of authenticity)... Heaven was the goal, the mecca, the ultimate outcome of these prayer fests, and heaven (well, more like avoidance of the other place) has always been the one compelling reason why to say the prayer, and also to tell others to say it. Over the years as my journey's complexity increased and my faith has waxed and waned, I've noticed that the whole "heaven logic" has dropped off, maybe to a fault: I really just want to live authentically in this world and get closer with Jesus. I would never say I'm "born again," mostly because of the stigma and dishonesty the ideas surrounding all of that carries with it, but also because I'm not all the way done yet...

Being born again is an ongoing, lifetime process for me and many of my friends. I don't talk about it much-- There's always that risk of sounding theological or having someone tear me apart and tell me my theology stinks... Well, it's not like I don't know the arguments, and at one time doggedly agreed with them... But this is my journey now. It's a deep and personal journey I want to be on, and I don't want to cheapen it by hurrying it or faking any part of it. I want to experience every single step along the way, however many steps there are, that take me to a deep, open, and fully alive relationship with Jesus

Here are some things I've heard through the years that have changed how I see my relationship with Jesus, and that I'm really letting God work on me about:

"Let's just pretend for a moment that God really is sovereign."-- Oh, yeh... A momentary lapse as I was over here thinking I could just take care of the whole world by myself....
"And what does God say when you pray about that hard situation?"-- 9/10 times... I haven't even asked God about it...
"It's more important to be kind than right."-- My #1 biggest struggle, as I can be the world's biggest bulldozer...

Born again. It's happening... I wish it would happen all at once in a flash, but it seems that I'm taking my time... I'll continue He's sovereign on this one. :0)

Born Again, and Again, and Again...

2012-03-05T09:27:00.000-07:00

- by Karl

“I tell you the truth, you must be born again”
- Jesus

I love Easter. It proves that I am not left with the life I have created, but I can have the life He creates.

Jesus promised to never leave me, but I have often tried to get away from Him. But He hunts me down, and loves me till it almost hurts.

I have often heard the words “have you been born-again?” but never “are you being born-again?”

This Easter I am thinking about being born again, and again, and again…

I have been born again a lot.

I remember when…

I first found Jesus - I was born again.

I was sad and started smoking but then I quit - I was born again.

I met my wife and fell in love - I was born again.

We got pregnant before we married and I was asked to leave school but we survived - I was born again.

My wife forgave me for being really mean to her - I was born again,

I was sick with depression, but got some medicine that helped - I was born again,

I got sober - I was born again.

I am sure it will happen again really soon.

Eviction Notice

2012-02-27T09:04:00.000-07:00

- by Richard

Okay, Addict.

I’m sick of you. Literally.

I want you gone. You’re through.

You have had control over my life, my time, my behavior, my thoughts, my attitudes, my relationships, my body, and my mind. Because of you, I have messed up my life and I have wounded the people I love the most.

Frankly, addict: I hate you. I thought you were my friend. You promised excitement, reward, and escape from the fears and pains of life. You lied. The excitement was fleeting, the reward was phony, and the escape was momentary. You failed to deliver – thousands upon thousands of time, you failed. Every single time. Every. Single. Time.

You deceived me. Oh, you’re clever. You kept offering me this package of fake goodies – and every single time, for decades, I would take it. Your control over me was almost absolute, and because of you I did unspeakable things. I want you gone.

I am not you, Addict. And you are not me. Yes, you have been a part of me, a big part of me. I have been powerless over you, despite my resolve not to let you do these things. You have made my life completely unmanageable, despite my outward appearance of competence and confidence. But the real me is not you. I want you gone.

I’m not going to try to manage my own life. I can’t. But even so, I am going to win. Not on my own; my own power is pathetic. But make no mistake, Addict: you’re history.

I’m finding power somewhere else. With this new power I’m finding, I can do this. I’ve tried to kick you out before – perhaps thousands of times – but this time it’s different. I have a new friend. My new friend is actually an old, old friend whom I have tried to serve all my life, but never with my whole heart. This friend is known by many names, but I go with the name God. I’m going to give God the keys to my place, my life, my mind, my heart, my behavior, everything. With God’s power, you, Addict, don’t stand a chance.

Consider yourself evicted. I want you completely out of my life. I know you’re going to want to come back. When you knock on the door, with God’s power I’m not going to let you in. Oh, I may slip up sometimes and let you stand on the doorstep. I used to think that when you got to the doorstep I had no choice but to let you in to ransack the place – but now I see that letting you back in is not inevitable; in fact, it’s not going to happen, so go. Just go.

Addict, I am envisioning you walking away from my life, your bags packed, trudging away, your figure getting smaller and smaller, farther and farther away, diminishing, diminishing, until you are just a speck. Just a speck.

Good riddance. I’m a much better person without you, thank God!

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Philippians 4:13

Lent

2012-02-20T07:45:00.000-07:00

- by Linda

This time of year draws me back to my spiritual roots. There is something about Lent that ignites a longing for quiet and reverence in me. And although while growing up Lent seemed like a lot of rules and giving things up, I also, even as a child, loved the quiet in the church and the sense of awe that was present there.

My family went to church every Sunday and there were so many of us it was usually not a quiet, peaceful hour. I was often trying to keep younger ones hushed or in their seats. But during Lent, it was different. During Lent there were all these extra services to attend and my mom would only take the older kids. It was peaceful. There weren’t as many people, there was space. There was quiet and often the lights were dimmed. And I got to just BE. And God seemed present and close and I soaked it up.

And then life happened and there was a period of time when I didn’t go to church at all and then an adventure to figure out where to go when I did return. And I ended up in churches in various denominations. And I found a different richness there. I learned and grew a lot spiritually. My faith became more real, more personal. And, being a quiet person, at times I also felt very out of place. The church seemed noisy and busy.

So, the last few years, during Lent, when I especially sensed that longing for quiet reflection with God, I allowed myself to visit the church I remembered as a child. And I loved it. I didn’t let myself get caught up in the little things I don’t agree with anymore, I expected them. I just soaked up that presence of God that comes to me in the quiet, in the tradition, in the liturgy. I don’t necessarily understand how He comes, I don’t think there is anything magical about the traditions themselves…I just know I sense Him there in a different way.

I think God calls to us in all kinds of ways. I am sure many find him in celebration and in things I might call noisy. I know He is there too.

And one of the things I love about The Refuge is that there is space for both. This lovely group, where the majority probably prefers the celebrations…still makes room for quiet reflection. It’s an unusual combination, but I do appreciate it.

So as the weeks of Lent unfold, I am looking forward to seeing God show up in the quiet times & being challenged to see Him also in the celebrations.

What's in your Box?

2012-02-13T10:35:00.000-07:00

- by Megan

How can One
shows One's love
if One knows not what love is
For One has to learn
the art of Love
before love can be His
--MMH

* * * * *

I think Love is one of the most difficult of human emotions. It can be intertwined with so many other feelings. Want. Need. Lust. Desire. The Warmth of Kindness. The Agony of Betrayal.

But in all of it, we still need Love. We need to give it and to accept it. Offer it to another and allow it for ourselves.

So what's in your box? That place in your heart the holds all the good or all the bad, that makes it difficult to give or accept...

What do you need to hold onto or let go of so that you can show, and know, Love?

Finding Strength for the Cause

2012-01-30T10:25:00.000-07:00

-by Jenny

Is there a cause worth fighting for? Do you have a passion for making a difference, a stirring in the heart? Do you feel called to advocate on behalf of a group that needs support?

Sometimes it's a no-brainer. We know just what to do and can keep plugging away, but at times the discouragement sets in to cloud the vision that seemed clear, seemed strong and sure. It can be difficult to find a way, or we run out of steam and get discouraged. There may be resistance and intimidation that push back. Sometimes our resistance is within.

Saturday night at our first Express evening of 2012, we spent some time identifying the causes we feel are important and and exploring the things that get in the way of our passions for advocacy, and how we can overcome those things. A story from Martin Luther King, Jr's life framed our evening.

There was no one else that he could turn to on that lonely night. The discouragement was great. He had worked so hard in Montgomery, but he was receiving harsh criticism and death threats. Martin Luther King, Jr. was sitting at his kitchen table, and over a cup of coffee, he wrestled with weakness and called out to God. Then he heard these words:

Martin Luther, Stand up for righteousness. Stand up for justice. Stand up for truth...and lo, I will be with you even to the end!

It was what he needed to revive his soul. He became reassured that he was to continue on in this important cause he had labored over.

As I think about causes that touch my own heart:

What is pushing back at me, intimidating me and keeping me from doing what I can? Are there voices that threaten me to forget it, give it up, and believe it's all too hard or too dangerous to continue?
Am I doing the right thing?
Where will I find strength for this weakness? What will revive my soul?
Are there ways others can be involved?
What are things we can do as a community to help strengthen each other to overcome what keeps each of us from our passion for advocacy?

If you have thoughts about this, add them here. We can explore together.

If you would like to listen to the kitchen table story in MLK's own words:

On Knowing Better

2012-01-23T13:54:00.000-07:00

- by Felisa

Face, meet palm. I knew better, and I did it anyway. In the immortal words of Forrest Gump, "Stupid is as stupid does, and I just did stupid."

I am one of those (supposedly) rare women who prefers to change her own oil. I can get a much higher grade of oil for the same price if I do the work myself. As a rule, I drive aging cars, and the oil used makes a difference in the longevity of the engine. In theory, it is not a difficult procedure: put the oil pan underneath, unscrew the drain plug, let the oil out, take out the old filter, put in the new one, put the plug back, pour in the new oil. I've done it several times before...just not to my current vehicle. And not by myself.

Last Saturday, after weeks of saying I needed to do it, I finally got around to changing my oil. I looked around under the car for a while, oil filter wrench in hand. Puzzled, I turned to my stepfather, who had graciously agreed to help, and I asked, "Where's the oil filter?" He pointed to a likely-looking red cylinder, half-hidden by the frame. I said, "Ah, there it is," and proceeded to remove it. It didn't look like the filter I remembered buying, and it was awfully far from the oil pan, but it was the right size and shape, so I went ahead. When I got it off, the fluid that came out was a very reddish brown. "Puce," I thought to myself, “the color of old blood. Yuck.” I said, "Wow, it must really need a change. That's not the right color at all." Then I attempted to install the new filter I had bought. It didn’t screw on easily. I bought a different brand, and the threads looked right, so I tried to install it. It still didn't quite fit. When I tightened it as far as I could with my bare hands, and saw that there was still a gap, I decided to use the wrench to force it on tighter. My stepfather helped.

This is the part of the story where I hold my face in my hands and say, "I knew better. Why did I do that?" If a part doesn't fit, it should never, EVER be forced into place. The part looked unfamiliar, the fluid was the wrong color, and the new part didn’t fit.

If your instincts are telling you "this is not right," listen.

How many times do I have to learn this lesson?

As it turns out, the red filter is for the transmission fluid. Once we realized this, we searched for and changed the real oil filter. We put the red filter back in its rightful place (with force, once again, as my previous mistake had damaged the threads, and it was difficult to screw on), and I started the car so he could check the transmission fluid level. My stepfather shouted, “Oh no! Turn it off!" as thick, puce liquid poured out and flowed over the driveway. It looked like my poor baby was bleeding to death. We think we can fix it, but it has taken us days to locate the correct tool. Apparently, metric sizes are somewhat unpopular ’round these parts.

I knew better, but I did it anyway.

Now I suffer the consequences. It is my humble opinion that this principle applies to more than cars. How often do we make that sort of mistake in our relationships, and then regret it? I know I should talk something out, but I hide it anyway and grow resentful. I know I should listen to the other perspective, but I jump to conclusions. I know the path of love, the path of peace.

All too often, I take the other path. I take the one that seems easier now, but will cause me greater problems down the road--or keep me off the road altogether.

Note To Self

2012-01-16T07:58:00.000-07:00

- by Jeff

Note to self:

It's time to do something different. You have to. You're not getting any younger, and with four years of graduate school looming on the horizon, it's time you got to work changing a few things. To make things easy, I'm going to put these changes into three directions: Upward, Outward, Inward.

Upward: your relationship with God
Outward: your relationship with others and the rest of Creation
Inward: your relationship with you/me

And there are some guidelines. Refer to them often:

No single area is more important than the other.
All three are interrelated and interdependent; the neglect of one diminishes the others as well.
Conversely, as you improve in one area, I believe you will see improvement in the other areas.
Be flexible. This is not as simple as spending equal time on each area. There is no formula, and no ultimate point of equilibrium. You will constantly need to re-evaluate and re-adjust what you are doing and how you are doing it.
Recruit others to help you set your goals, to encourage you--and even push you--toward those goals, and to drag your butt back into the game when you want to quit.
Remember, this is a fundamental change in how you interact with everything: Things will not remain the same as they did when you began, and I have no freakin' idea how they will look later down the road. This is an act of faith, and that means you have to trust the process and the One who guides it.

Remember, I'm rooting for ya, 'cause I think you're pretty cool.

A Time To?

2012-01-09T09:02:00.000-07:00

- by Mike

In this age of "green" we are concerned with conserving water, energy, gasoline, and other resources, along with our money, but seem to put little thought into how we spend our most valuable, nonrenewable resource: time.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time for every purpose under the heaven." - Ecclesiastes 3:1

It has been said the longest distance between two points is a "shortcut." But there is still the temptation to take the shortcut in an attempt to save time. In a society where the pace of life seems to increase exponentially every year a case could be made for trying to squeeze out every second of savings possible.

The truth is there is no such thing as saving time. Sure, we can choose ways that might enable us to spend more time doing one task and less on another, but we can never save time. Time is a finite commodity. At birth, each of us is allocated a certain number of years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds. No amount of human endeavor can increase our time on earth by a single second. We can not stop the clock when we sleep. Each second we live we choose how we will use our alloted time. Not deciding what to do with it is making a decision to waste it.

"Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" - Matthew 6:27

"Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be. remind me that my days are numbered-how fleeting my life is." - Psalm 39:5

Recently i watched a movie with an interesting premise. "In Time" was a story of time and how it was used by various people. Everyone born was given 26 years to live. The first 25 years were much like ours, but something happened on a person's 25th birthday. A clock, implanted in the forearm, began to count down from one year. Each second ticked off until after a year, the read out displayed 0hr 0min 0sec. At that point the person died instantly. Time was up. There was a twist in the movie that is unlike how we live. The whole economy was based on time, and time was used as the only medium of exchange. You could earn more time (life) by working or stealing it. You could spend your time on things you needed or wanted. You could even give it away.

The movie showed the contrast between the poor, who struggled to get enough time to survive one more day, and the rich, who were so preoccupied with the hundreds of years they had amassed, that they never really ever lived. The hero, a man who stated he just wanted to have at least 24 hours left at the beginning of the day, was given 100 years by a man who was tired of living. The rest of the movie was his quest to make a difference with the gift that was given him.

I wonder if I had a digital read-out on my arm, counting down the numbers of hours I had left to live, if i would change the way I lived my life? If it showed less than a year? Less than a month? Less than a week? Less than a day? Would the inconcequential things of life occupy my time? Would I piss and moan about how life had somehow screwed me over? Would I spend, even a few precious moments in a semi comatose, couch potato vegetative state? Or would I take life by the horns and hang on for the ride of my life, living every second as if it were my last? Like there was no tomorrow.

We spend our time (life) the same way we spend our money, or any other finite resource. With CHOICES. Good or bad. Right or wrong. Until the resource is exhausted. Until the account is empty.
Being almost 65 I have used roughly 2,049,840,000 seconds. If I have averaged 8 hours of sleep a night, I have "wasted" 683,280,000 seconds doing nothing. How many seconds do I have left? I have no idea. The clock is running as I write and you read this blog. I have 86,400 seconds less than I had at this time yesterday, but 86,400 more than i will have at this time tomorrow. Possibly, i will live until I am 100, or maybe my time will run out before I finish writing the next sentence. Neither scenario is likely, but both could happen. However, because I don't have a digital read out on my arm I won't know until my heart stops beating. But I can rest assured it will happen.

My goal in 2012 is to be more aware of this precious, finite commodity and make a concerted effort to spend it wisely with as little wasted as possible.

I hope this post has not wasted the last 317.6 seconds of your time.

one word

2012-01-02T09:50:00.000-07:00

- by kathy

2012. a new year. i know for some of you the end of 2011 couldn't have come soon enough. for others of you, it was a good year and you don't want to say goodbye to it quite yet.

no matter where we're each at, a new year is upon us. a new story is possible.

i am not a big new years resolution kind of person anymore. i used to be. i would resolve to change this or do that and almost always, within a week or two any resolve i had would dissipate and i'd end up feeling the oh-so-familiar feeling of shame. at the same time, i think it is really helpful to consider the new year ahead and enter into it with some intention. i have in the past come up with a list of 5 words that described the previous year and then 5 words that i hoped described the upcoming year. it's been fun to look at the list i've kept and how in different ways, some of those words did indeed show up in my year.

for 2012, however, i am trying something different. i am choosing just one word that i hope guides this year. one word that i won't forget. one word that i can keep praying through and filtering my year through. you can read more about this idea here.

a lot of words came across my heart in the past few days, but i've landed on the one that i know is the right one for 2012: focus.

i hope this year is a year to hone down some of the things that i'm involved with to include only the ones i am most passionate about. i hope this is a year where i can have shorter lists and longer conversations. i hope this is a year where i can feel more clear about what's worth focusing energy on and what just isn't right now. i definitely need some focus.

january of 2011, at one of our saturday evening gatherings, jenny shared this list to help us shape some kind of written piece, poem, art piece, drama, etc. i thought i'd share some of the words here if you wanted to consider a "one word" for 2012. there are a lot of other possibilities not on this list but maybe this will get some juices flowing.

possible words for 2012:

acceptance
action
abundance
adventure
awareness
beauty
brave
change
clarity
compasssion
confidence
courage
creativity
delight
discipline
engage
expansion
exploration
focus
forgive
freedom
friendship
fun
generosity
gentleness
grace
gratitude
growth
heal
health
hope
integrity
joy
kindness
laughter
listen
love
no
openness
patience
peace
power
prayerfulness
presence
relax
release
risk
self-love
trust
willingness
worship
yes

if you're up for it, share it in the comments or let someone else know. i think it helps to say it out loud.

i wanted to close with this, a beautiful prayer from my friend christine sine for the new year:

God may I welcome this new year without fear or regret,
Secure in the certainty of your promises,
May I live in anticipation of its beauty,
And be prepared to embrace its challenges,
May I look for your love in every moment,
And listen for your voice in every sound,
May I see your image in every stranger,
And exalt in your glory expressed in all your creation,
May I learn to live in the place of trust,
Remembering always that the future is in your hands.

amen. looking forward to our upcoming year together!

A Christmas Prayer

2011-12-26T08:41:00.000-07:00

- adapted from Christine Sine's Waiting for the Light: An Advent Devotional, page 93-94

Jesus you come,
In the voice of the poor,
In the hurting of the sick,
In the anguish of the oppressed.

Open our eyes that we may see you.

Jesus you come,
In the weakness of the vulnerable,
In the questions of the doubting,
In the fears of the dying.

Open our ears that we might hear you.

Jesus you come
In the celebration of the saints,
In the generosity of the faithful,
In the compassion of the caring.

Open our hearts that we might embrace you.

Almighty God whose great love and compassion came into our world in the person of your incarnate son, Jesus Christ, plant in every heart your concern and care for all human-kind. May the light of Christ ignite our hearts and shine out brightly from our lives, as we participate in the stories You are telling in us and through us and play our part in shaping others' stories, too.

May the light of God shine on us,
May the love of Christ shine in us,
May the life of the Spirit shine through us.
This day and evermore.
Amen.

Merry Christmas, Refuge.

The Ghosts/Hope of Christmas Yet to Come

2011-12-19T08:10:00.000-07:00

- by Stacy

Ghost of the Future,"Scrooge exclaimed, "I fear you more than any spectre I have seen. But as I know, your purpose is to do me good.” ~ Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol.

Well….no, I don’t exactly feel like Ebenezer Scrooge. However, like many others, the holidays are just not exactly my favorite time. The hard part is what I really long for in a Christmas season, I also intensely fear. I want a family more than I can adequately express. Ah, the visit of the paradox once again.

Christmas 2000, was the last time that I saw my mom alive. She was in the final stretch of her 9 year battle with metastatic breast cancer, and it was, as can be imagined, a not so festive in my home. Upon returning home to Nevada from college, I knew that the end was coming as soon as I opened the door. While I prayed so hard for her to be out of pain, I was also acutely aware that with her death, I would ultimately be literally alone. She actually died 6 months later, on June 9^th, and while Christmas 2001 wasn’t in my face, the reality of the future absolutely was.

In the Christmas Carol story, the Ghost of Christmas Future or The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, is the spirit that prompts Ebenezer to make decisions to alter his life. For me, though, the visions that I imagine will be my future are not motivating, rather quite paralyzing.

The other day I questioned that internal voice that is full of angst. What if I am wrong about the possibilities of my future? What if I don’t have some built in crystal ball that I am always confident predicts a future full of loneliness and sadness? What if I can hope for a happily married life with kids who are loved and taken care of? What if there isn’t even a ghost, but really a messenger of hope?

“I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for.” ~ Jeremiah 29:11 The Message

What if that is actually true?

Leaning into hope is so scary. Actually wanting and longing and desiring and hoping comes at a cost. Letting go of control, and trusting that God knows what he is doing requires me to stop believing that he doesn’t care about my future.

I want to be less afraid & focused on the pain of my Christmas futures and more secure in the love and relationships in my Christmas present.

So, this Christmas, I am going to try leaning into The Hope of Christmas Present, *and* the Hopes of Christmas Future(s).

Christmas Stories: Celebrating Simplicity

2011-12-12T07:41:00.000-07:00

- by Michelle

My favorite Christmas was decades ago. All 4 kids were young (3 – 11)….and all had caught a bad flu going around town. So far, I was the only lucky one that hadn’t gotten sick. Doesn’t sound like the setting for a fun Christmas, I know. But we set everyone up on Christmas morning in the living room with blankets and pillows and decided we’d try opening one gift each hour, and rest in-between. Such a peaceful calm was in the air. Fevers were low grade, but enough to seem to keep the kids sleeping between the hourly gift exchange. My husband was not well either, so no groceries were bought for a Christmas dinner, as I didn’t want to cook for just myself! Such a quiet, reflective day, unheard of in a house of 4 typically rambunctious children! All of a sudden, around 5 pm, the fevers cleared, and the tummies started growling and questions about “what’s for Christmas dinner?” started up. I had nothing ready, presuming all my sick family would not be hungry for anything but chicken noodle soup!

Well, they say necessity is the mother of invention. And soon, I was determined to make the best Christmas dinner ever. And in 20 minutes, we sat down to a humble but delicious dinner of stove-top stuffing rolled in turkey lunchmeat; instant mashed potatoes and a can of green beans! It was the best Christmas dinner ever and my most cherished Christmas memory.

My memory of that “forced simplicity” on that quiet Christmas day years ago, calls my heart to choose the simple way with intention, whenever possible, this holiday season. No fevers needed!

Christmas Stories: Celebrating Life

2011-12-05T11:01:00.000-07:00

- by Jeff

As a young couple, my wife and I had the opportunity to learn some really interesting things about Christmas in small, conservative churches:

If your children are born in the Fall, they get to portray the baby Jesus while you and your wife play the supporting roles of Mary and Joseph.
One never has to audition for the Christmas Cantata when there's only a dozen people in the choir.
People will actually allow you to sing "Silent Night" in its native German merely because you asked.
Joy to the World has a LOT of verses.
Holiday Potlucks ROCK!

When Jesus was actually born, things had to be pretty interesting as well. Even as a father, I cannot imagine the anxiety Joseph must have felt when his young wife, Mary, went into labor so far from home among the animals and strangers. This was certainly not the birth he had probably imagined, although he hadn't planned the pregnancy either. Nevertheless, I would like to imagine that when he first gazed upon this little boy, this miracle of miracles, Joseph felt the same sense of joy and love which overwhelmed me when each of my children were born. Joseph may have had shepherds and angelic choirs and all, but that would have been icing on the cake; I think the birth of this child would have been amazing enough for him.

This year, I hope to make the Christmas season better than in recent years past. This holiday, after all, is a celebration of life, not solely of the birth of the most amazing person who ever lived, but a celebration of our own lives, which are so important He set aside deity to save them. I encourage everyone to celebrate life: His, yours, and those of the people around you.

And in the words of Tiny Tim: God bless us, every one!

Christmas Mash-Up

2011-11-28T09:09:00.000-07:00

- by Karl

I think every story in the bible is a Christmas story. Read long enough, and every story ends with hope and redemption. The Christmas story.

I also think every story is for us, about us. Pain and regret are a part of every human story and life seems filled with our work and healing. The beauty of the Christmas story is that journey is not a venture that must be traveled alone.

Saturday night at church we talked about at the Christmas story found in Psalm 23. Here is how a mash-up of that might look with Luke 2.

Psalm 23/Luke 2 (the Christmas Story)

1 The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
3 he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for his name's sake.
The glory of the Lord shone around them.
4 Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.

5 You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
6 Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the LORD.
Forever Glory to God in the highest heaven and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.

May this season bring new hope as your story is embraced and healed. May you know companionship of the Saviour as you walk towards the house of the Lord.

Blessings

2011-11-21T08:06:00.000-07:00

- by Megan

Blessings

When all the things I cannot say...
I say Thank You for today

Thank you for the sunlight
Thank you for the shade
I thank you for the things I own,
and the things I give away
I thank you both for my time alone
or when there's never time enough

Because in all this, my day run out
Your presence always there

So no matter what has come or gone
or all the tasks still left
You've stood beside with open arms
to lift me to Your Chest