Wednesday Writing Clip #2

From Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist. (I told you I read slow).

"For me, writing is about control. Or, more accurately, a loss of control. Maybe you are a writer, and you disagree because writing for you feels more like walking on the beach or getting a massage. Well, maybe you and I should never meet for coffee. Writing for me feels like getting naked in public. It feels like falling to the bottom of a well and finding lots of creepy crawly things down there with you. It feels like opening up a box of snakes. It feels kooky and scary and out of control. It makes me upset sometimes, because it makes me honest. When I sit down to write, for a while I read magazines and send emails and wander around, and then when I finally get up the guts to crack through the ice of my mind, I find myself in an odd universe of feelings I didn’t know I felt, and memories I didn’t know I carried. After I’ve been writing for a while, I get sort of sensitive and strange, like a theater kid in high school.

One of the true hazards in writing is that you yearn to write deeply honest things that rise up from lessons learned the hard way…and then you have to learn those lessons the hard way. I had written a chapter on jealousy, and after I looked at it for a while, it seemed sort of flat and cartoony. I prayed for a new way to write that chapter, an incisive and honest way to talk about being jealous. And not a week later, wouldn’t you know it, at dinner with some friends, I found out something about a mutual friend that annihilated me with jealousy. It was a thousand straws that broke a thousand camel’s backs, and I was tumbling around and around with these vicious, terrible jealous feelings, like I was in the spin cycle with a box of rocks. That’s the last time I pray for a good chapter on anything, except being gorgeous or winning the lottery or something. You pray for wonderful, honest gritty, tender stories to write, but then you have to live through them."

If you're not a writer, maybe posting writing on writing is like an annoying English class rerun but I am kind of obsessed with writing about writing ;). I think it's fascinating and I love this clip from Shauna. I took one writing class a few years ago and maybe the only thing I took away from it, besides never to write about lesbianism ever ever ever again, was that you have to write true things. You don't just write out of thin air. You look at life, especially your life if you are willing, and write what is stark, cold, , vivid, lovely, indecent, and explicitly TRUE. And like she said, sometimes wanting those chapters to come alive means that it must come out of your own actions and heart...and it can be wildly uncomfortable. But it's the best kind of writing.

Like it?

Guest Barista

I'm humbled to get to be the guest writer today for Internet Cafe Devotions. It's part of a piece you may recognize. Check it out here if you like!

Evidence

I love Jesus. I’ve known him a long time. I really want people to talk about him. I really want people to not be ashamed about him. But as much as I want that in my deepest parts, even I am a little scared of what our church is doing on Sunday mornings. Scared in a this is how church is supposed to be and I stand in fearful awe of it kind of a way.

We’ve been starting each service with asking people to stand from their seats to share evidences of God’s grace, in front of the entire congregation. God’s graces are moments we have seen God to be real and we see him working in our lives. The point is to give really specific praises to the Lord, showing, demonstrating, professing that we are gathering to worship a real God who is really present and at work in our lives.

We did it a little differently a few Sundays ago. Our worship leader, Pastor Tim, was leading us into a song and in between choruses he said he was going to back off and let us fill in by shouting out praises to God. The song’s words were declaring that God was great. So he said, God is great so let’s declare his greatness, let’s declare praises to what he has done.

It struck me really heavily that we are so willing to sing songs on Sundays, we are so willing to let the words flow off our tongue about what a great God he is, and that we will remember him and that we believe, and on and on. But how willing am I to sit and meditate on how good He has been…specifically to me? Am I meditating on that? Am I sitting on that question of Pastor Tim’s, day to day? How has the Lord been good…to me? How have I seen evidence of his grace? How can all 1000 of us be so willing to sing in chorus that He is good to us and not be just as willing to sing out individually that He is good to me?

Is it all about fear of man? Or is it also about just not even knowing and recording in my heart and meditating on his goodness? Maybe one. Maybe both. Might change week to week.

A little while back a friend of mine was talking to me about how she struggles on and off with believing that everything she believes with God is really real. She doubts. The Lord instantly brought to mind a gift to give her. I had found the most perfect little pocket sized journal for my mother in law a few weeks earlier, but it had come in a four pack. I just went ahead and bought it, knowing the Lord would have me to give away the other ones for some purpose. I put them aside at home and waited. So when I was talking to my friend and she was confessing her struggles with doubt, I thought of that little book and wanted to give it to her. I felt impressed on my heart to encourage her to jot down the date and just a sentence or two every time she saw/felt/witnessed evidence that God was real in her life. So many times I think the Lord increases our faith by showing up in x and speaking to us in the midst of x and filling our hearts in x situation but later, just like the Israelites in the Old Testament, we forget him. But what if we didn’t forget? What if we could at least look back at something…to recall him? To increase our faith?

I have another friend who’s in a rough spot with just walking through sadness. She’s a sweet sister in Christ, is compelled towards Christ, and here she is in just a difficult spot of being squeezed straight through the middle of a heart breaking trial. And in our trials we start to look around and go, Really? You’re real? In this? We’ve all been there to one degree or another. And all I could do in my heart was just scroll back over her life and so many evidences of his love for her and the reality of the Lord in her life and heart just poured over me, though specifically they may have been more difficult to list. But my hope was that in the midst of her struggle, her faith would increase…by looking back. By believing in the evidence of what has already happened, even if God felt silent, and even…cruel, now.

Evidence. Evidence might be a true moment of worship. You’re singing and you’re overcome with faith. It might be an actual answer to prayer. You get a check in the mail that covers the exact amount of your rent. It might be through a word from a sister or brother in Christ, in the moment of your weakness and need. It might be coming across a Scripture verse that speaks to you as if it were your counselor. It might be the Holy Spirit whispering truth to you in a moment of confusion to bring you peace. It might be a sense of strength when you felt you could not do it. Or a recollection of a bible verse when you needed encouragement for yourself or a friend. Or a meal bought by a friend when you were out of cash or out of energy. Or the Lord awakening you at 6am when you didn’t think you’d be able to open your eyes until 10.

And I think it’s important to watch for evidence in our spouses and friends and family members in Christ too. What a joy to watch the Lord work in the lives of believers around us and then, in their moments of weakness and wandering and even just faithlessness and hopelessness we can point to very specific evidences of the Lord for them that we ourselves have witnessed. Isn’t that powerful? I can allow the Holy Spirit to use me, my memory, my witness, to increase another’s faith in the God of their heart. That’s pretty incredible.

There’s evidence. Daily. All around. Do we see him? Sense him? See his truth and answers and presence clearly?

I started an Evidences of Grace journal. Yes, it’s one of the four little mini books I bought. After I gave one to my mother in law and then my friend, the third one just kept stalking me until I realized it was for me :). I have a terribly, embarrassingly horrific memory. It’s actually something I am hoping the Lord can heal in me, truly. But regardless of a healing in this life, I know that I can record the evidences of God in written form so that I can remember him. Remember his goodness. And then! Cast my faith upon that goodness, that evident sweet goodness, on days that I’m really honestly struggling with belief in the God who I know, I know, I know has pursued me and loved me and caught me up in His Spirit.

He is real. He is good. And I have evidence. Do you?

Veronica

I’ve been watching Fox news occasionally. Partly for background noise. Don’t make me explain, but for whatever reason, my kids kind of behave better if there’s more noise. Who knows. (If I'm losing you b/c you hate Fox, don't x out my page. It's not political and I don't plan on going there.)

So I’m watching a couple of weeks ago and I think it was the Hannity and Colmes show that was interviewing the lawyer of one of Tiger’s mistresses, Veronica. I’m kind of intrigued so I sit down while the kids munch away at dinner (actually who am I kidding, they’re just watching it too and ignoring their food. I don’t know how they weigh more than ten pounds).

Anyway. Veronica’s lawyer is being interviewed and is just adamant that Tiger needs to apologize to her client. She declares that Tiger has built this relationship with her and now he’s abandoned her with no explanation or goodbye or regret and she’s owed at least as much as an apology. Whoever is interviewing her is questioning how Veronica could be setting herself up as the victim when the real victim is Tiger’s wife and he is rightfully putting all of his energies towards making things right with her, since she’s the real one who’s been wronged.

Now, let me first say that I have no idea what is going on in the world. I think all this front page news about Tiger had probably seen it’s second month’s round of cover stories by the time I cared to notice in the grocery store line. So, I don’t really know all the details and I’m not claiming to be writing a report about it here. I don’t know any of the details besides the heresay that Tiger had a ridiculous amount of affairs and now he’s off who knows where, taking a break from golf. All I know is what I saw on this particular show, so don’t ask me any questions.

Anyway, I’m watching Veronica’s lawyer just get all heated. This woman is fiery. She is just demanding that Veronica deserves an apology from Tiger and he owes her that. I thought that was so interesting that at some point later I joted a little note about it in my writing moleskin, because I thought it might be interesting to include in my writing of some sort later, who knew when.

Well not but a couple of weeks later I’m in church. John Piper had been at our church for a conference and he had given our Sunday sermon. So I’m sitting there listening to the sermon and Piper’s sermon is titled, Kill Sin before it Kills You. There was so much meat in it that it might take me three more blogs to get through it all, but there was a little (HUGE) nugget just for me, just for a specific sin in my life that has to do with the fact that I am an awful lot like Veronica.

Piper’s talk zero’d in on how we have sin in our lives that is killing us inside. We allow it to kill us because we are not setting our minds on killing it. He wanted to lean into a couple of really specific examples of how to go from living out a sin to setting our minds on the Spirit in order to kill that sin. He gave lots of examples, ending on the sin of anger. Uh oh. That’s one of mine. Okay, just be cool, and take some notes. I can hear this, here we go.

He took us to Matthew 18, the parable of the unmerciful servant. The parable portrays a man who owes a giant debt and as he begs for mercy, he is granted it. And he goes away free with his debt cancelled in a great merciful act. And Piper gave this picture of a man who goes away free and grateful and praising the Lord…or was he? What happened next? He was owed a much smaller debt by another man and when this man fell on his knees before him, asking him to be patient with him, the man who had been given much mercy “grabbed him and began to choke him” and demanded to be given what was owed him.

Here is what the Spirit began to speak to me, specifically regarding my husband and my children. What do you think Jason owes you? When he does not give you what you believe you are owed, do you grab him and choke him with your words and with the hands of your heart? What do I think my children owe me? When they do not give me what I think I am owed of them, do I grab them and choke them with my words and with the hands of my heart? Am I like the man who has been given much mercy who turns around and has no mercy to extend to someone who owes me much, much, exceedingly much less? Do I not see myself in this man, who appears to be behaving so horrific and selfishly in this story? How can I not see myself in him?

Whoa. Never saw myself in that parable before. Never knew that this parable was about anger. Never had this parable minister to me like this before.

And then Veronica came to mind. This Veronica whose story seemed so far away. And suddenly Veronica isn’t so far away anymore, and she isn’t judged by me as if I could never sin like that, and suddenly I’m not laughing anymore at how ridiculous it is that she could be asking for an apology in the midst of her great sin. She came so close to me. So close. I could see myself. I am Veronica. I am demanding. I am feeling owed. I am feeling injured and hurt and victimized and needy and all queen-like in my position that all the world owes me all of itself…and then I see.

I owed. I injured. I hurt. And yet I have been shown an unbelievably great mercy. I have absolutely been freed of the anger and wrath of God that I so deserve because I did sin greatly against him. Yet. I have been shown mercy. Now will I not go and show mercy? Why would I withhold it now? Will I go and withhold mercy from such little sin against me? Did my own mercy mean so little to me?

Lord let me embrace your mercy with such a gratitude that I would not so selfishly and ungratefully withhold such a beautiful, undeserved, gracious gift to others. In my moment of being sinned against, enable me, strengthen me to drop a knee of humility in order to offer the gift of mercy. Not to see the gratitude in their eyes, not to make me great, not to change their behavior towards me, not for some great expectation in return.

But because of your mercy to me. Let me see past them, past their sin against me, past all of that hurt and all that I am owed, to your great cross in the distance, where you bled and died for me, little me who owed you everything and didn’t even know it or even care.

Matthew 18:27 “The servant’s master took pity on him, canceled the debt and let him go.”

Broken Leg

I was scurrying out the door to go on this writing night when Grace came toddling up and got all up in my space to present her request.

“Mommy, can you pray for Tanah? She’s sick.” Oh precious. So I stopped to pray for Kanah’s broken leg outloud, that the Lord would heal her body so she could walk again.

Kanah heard me from the other room and said, “I am going to walk again,” which of course Grace repeated immediately, because she always does.

“Yes. You’re going to walk again! You know why?” Little Grace’s expectant face looked straight up into mine from underneath me, little braided bangs tucked up into her bun pulled back. Sweet face. “Do you know that God made your body so that it fixes itself?” I asked her, letting the wonder come into my own face. “Kanah’s leg is broken but God made her a body that would fix itself so her leg could get better!”

Grace thought that was hilarious so she let out an adorable giggle and said, “God is so funny!”

I am realizing that you really know what in the world you believe as you live out each moment of your relationships. Do I really think that God made my body? That he creatively spoke my body into being and formed it so that it miraculously has the capability to heal itself, as much as it is capable now in my "fallen" state? I do. With all my heart. And I want my little ones to cast their belief upon that too.

I really really want my children to understand that Jesus is God and He is real and loves them and is pursuing them daily. So if I really believe this and want this, then the truth of who God is is going to permeate my days and my words and my behaviors and my carefully discerned moments to point to the divine in our simple lives.

As I help them confess their sin to one another. As I help them forgive each other. As we memorize Scripture by doing sign language. As we pray toddler prayers (very briefly) for those who are sick and hurting. As we are tempted and we stop to ask the Lord to help us in our temptation and to strengthen us to obey. As I sin and stop to ask for their forgiveness, even though that’s foreign to the adult world. As we see sadness along our way in the car and we stop to pray. As we sing silly God songs. As we dance in the kitchen, praising the Lord. As I speak to my husband, with the hope to demonstrate to my children that I respect him and love him. As I kneel by their side to serve them with the humility that only Christ can give. As my daughter asks me to pray for her sister’s broken leg.

If I really have known the Lord’s love and hope for that for others, then I will be watching for those discerned moments in Starbucks and with my check out employee at Fred Meyer and with other little children in our neighborhood. I will see them, really see them, see their hearts, and as we are talking, talking, chattering about what a great sale they had on baby food today…what I need to hear above the chatter is what the Lord is saying to them. What is he saying? Does he want to use a moment like my three year olds wondering about a broken leg to teach them something phenomenal about who He is? Do I hear what he has to say? Am I listening and am I willing to say more than “Yes, honey her leg will get better” or “Yeah, great sale on that green bean baby food, wow, yeah” or “Grande dark cherry mocha please”?

And I guess I kind of seem to just be talking about evangelism. But that’s not where this ends.

I think the Christian community talks a lot about evangelism and how to talk to non-believers and some of us seem to be in tune with all of that but we can really really royally MISS IT when it comes to discerning the God moments with His own people who already know him. When I’m listening to a believer in Christ, am I listening to what God might have for me to say to them? Am I thinking about Scripture for them? Am I thinking about how to respond? Am I being compassionate like Christ or listening like a frozen audience. Is this a moment to teach…correct…train…rebuke…encourage…be compassionate…pray…carry a burden…cry…embrace…or maybe serve?

How are we missing it? If the gospel is real, if Jesus really gave his life for us and is walking with us daily, then what might he have for us to be and do and say for each other? Do we see that this gospel is real…from each other?

I am just praying, hoping, pleading that God makes my life look like this. I have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ, but it’s not just for me personally. It’s to give away. And away. And away. I am not just hoarding up all of his goodness and blessing and truth. It’s to give away. And I just pray with all my might, now in this very moment, that he will help me keep giving it away. Because sometimes I see the moments but lots of times I miss them or I pass them by.

I just pray that as my children view more and more of life alongside of me, growing taller and taller, and their little hands getting fuller and fuller in my grasp, that I will carefully…discern…the compelling…Spirit….of…the…Lord for them. Help me hear you Father. I am yours to use.

You are more important

Written on Saturday

Jason was gracious to me today. I had more than a rough week, mostly internally. Just kind of a wreck inside. When a mom feels like a wreck inside and also happens to physically not be feeling great, having three children demand various treats at once and alternate endlessly needing instruction, discipline and just basic needs met feels like it might actually kill you. Fast.

So. Jason. Yes, I like starting the next paragraph with “So. Jason.” Because I must say that I don’t know how single moms do this business of raising little kids without having the life-giving intervention of a considerate husband. I salute them. I am burdened for them. I applaud them and if I knew you better personally, I would be your biggest advocate for childcare every time I met an older woman whose kids are grown and she’s painting her nails at home. Not that all of them are painting their nails, let that be noted. I sure hope I don’t “retire” one day, finding myself at home all day, while a future version of you single moms are persevering, exhausting yourselves in the mothering labor of love. I hope I don’t just run out to grab a dark cherry mocha and go straight back home, but instead I march my little serving feet straight to your house to make you take a nap. (By the way, don’t you love that drink? None more than me, for sure.) Wow, that was a big side note. But it’s kind of important in light of my feeling so pooped.

Back to Jason. Yesterday we were talking on the phone and I suddenly remembered he had a Saturday morning commitment, which made me want to die. I don’t think I burst into tears, but that was probably only because my tear tank had already been depleted. I began to despair and then Jason put me square in front of his other commitment. “You are more important.” I think I passed out. I am more important? Did you just win the husband of the year award in my mind? YES. It was going to be my turn to sleep in and then he wanted me to take the rest of the day until we all were supposed to be at an afternoon birthday party. ALL DAY? Can the mamas say, “YEAH!!”

I have written before about not knowing what to do with my free time. It’s a little silly how all over the place I feel at first, but once I set my mind on what to do with myself, I feel a lot freer. Bizarre I know. But as I like to mention, I am a C personality. We like structure. Lots.

I set out for Starbucks but stopped by two stores where I had giftcards. I bought a birthday gift for my mom (you’re going to love it, mom. it’s so you!!) and in one of the stores, I found myself gravitating to the kids section. I thought endlessly of Kanah and Grace and what they would look like in this and that. I bought them each a sun hat, picturing them poolside in a couple of weeks. There were cute little princess t-shirts that caught my eye since Grace’s half of her birthday is going to be “Sleeping Beauty”. But above the picture it said something like “Girls rule” which always creeps me out a little bit, like I’m raising her to be the kind of feminist that’s gone all wrong, so I opted to pass on those. (But I’m still on the lookout for a little bit of a purer version, so if you’ve got some advice…).

So I’m walking around, finding myself in Gymboree just moments later, and suddenly I’ve scrolled through to Jason’s cell, asking him if they are on their way over so I can see them. It’s been like an hour since I’ve left. I miss the kids. Thankfully they’re all dressed and ready and nearly there so I am pacing around, so anxious to love on them. I see them coming from all the way down the hallway. Grace and Salem are in the double stroller and Kanah is doing a prancing run alongside of Jason, her pony swishing wildly all over the place. My kids! I drop on my knees as they turn my direction and stretch my arms wild, crying out, “HI!!!!!!!” and because they didn’t expect me, they first stare blankly at this woman sprawled out before them, but their faces quickly turn into surprised expressions, coupled with cries of “Mommy!!!” Is that the sweetest gift of my life (right up there with this day off)? Yes. No doubt. I hugged them like crazy, like I’d been on a solo road trip for three weeks and never wanted to be gone from them again. Check the stopwatch. It’s only been one hour and thirteen minutes now. I must love this crew.

Now I am finally stationed in Starbucks a little while later, thinking about us running around Gymboree, buying their birthday dresses with matching headbands and swimsuits for our trip. I am enjoying my free time, enjoying thinking about them.

Being a stay at home mom is…wonderfully weary. :). I am always at the end of myself, leaning into the grace of Jesus, and praying out loud continually for God’s strength to be a loving mommy who’s not just making it, but really loving life with them and teaching them well and raising them intentionally into little people who are have beliefs and thoughts and spirits in them. And just being gifted with a couple of hours to re-group and breathe and be a woman apart from being a mom, is such a sweet re-start. And I thought it would take all day. And it took just about an hour.

Thank you, Jason. I feel loved. And freed to love more. Starting at 4:00 :).

Wednesday Writing #1

I love good writing. I don't get a lot of time to read but when I do, give me a good sentence to take in with a cup of coffee on the side and I can go to sleep. Forget twenty pages before bed. Just give me one well articulated thought. Like I've mentioned, I thought maybe I'd start posting some. Maybe on Wednesdays. For no other creative idea than "W"ednesday and "Writing" start with the same letter. Let it be just that shallow. But it's reason enough. Looking forward to it.

First clip is from a book my veeery thoughtful friend let me borrow. It's been stalking my brain ever since she told me about it months ago and now the bright orange cover of Cold Tangerines by Shauna Niequist has been placed into my hands. Thank you sweet friend. Let me throw out the disclaimer that we're not totally matched theologically, but I think she loves the Lord so I'll let it lie there for now.

Here's the clip. It's actually about writing, and although I enjoy humor from writers about being writers, my clips won't always be focused like that. Enough. Here it is:

"And now I can feel things turning, slowly. I can feel this tiny, fragile writer person getting bigger, like a candle flame glowing. Tonight is a writing night, and I feel giddy, antsy bold in a new way. I feel like I have a secret: I am becoming something else...But little by little, when I start where I'm stuck, over and over and over, getting stuck and unstuck, something cracks through, and life reveals itself to me like a scroll unfurling, and I write about it. I struggle against myself, and I write about it. I feel afraid and crazy, and I write about it. I don't figure out the solution in any tidy way, and I don't have a sharp and clever revelation, but bit by bit, writing is starting to worm its way into the dailiness of my life and is creating a home there. It is becoming less and less of a strange distant dream and more and more of the actual way I live."

Any writers or bloggers relate? This reminds me a little of Anne Lammott's book Bird by Bird, from which I'd like to post a thousand little snippets because she's so amazing. I don't know, I just like this because writing about writing is a little like observing a grown adult learn to walk because of how frustrating and awkward and funny it can be. So I liked it :)