"the writing's on the wall..."

"for You,
I have to risk it all,
for the writing's on the wall..."

The other night Sam Smith's recording of  "The Writing's on the Wall" found its way to the top of my playlist.  About the same time that I was thinking about Jesus' night in the garden of Gethsemane. Suddenly it wasn't James Bond that Sam was singing about -- it was Jesus.

I can only imagine what it must have been like to know you were going to be arrested and crucified. Yes, he also knew that a resurrection was part of God's plan for him, but still...

I keep thinking about his spiritual preparation for this ultimate opportunity to demonstrate his love for mankind -- by modeling his unprecedented trust in God's omnipotent goodness. His willingness to give each of us a precedent-setting case of what happens when you "risk" it all for Love.

We know that he was a student of earliest scripture. As a good Hebrew boy, he was familiar with the stories in the Old Testament. He would have heard of Daniel's night in the lions' den, of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fire, of Moses' journey through a parted sea with the Children of Israel. He would have memorized the Psalms and learned from Job. He was ready.

He had been humbled, tempted, lauded, questioned, exalted, pursued, defended, and defamed. He had spent 40 days in the desert, was the honored guest at weddings and feasts, read in the temple, was pursued by a mob, and fed multitudes. He was ready.

He had seen water made wine, men turn from their self-righteous anger, lepers made clean, a bent woman straightened, money from the mouth of a fish, thousands fed, a blind man seeing, and the dead raised to life. He was ready.

Last summer a friend shared three short sentences in a talk. They were:

You belong here.
You are ready.
You are not alone.

There has not been a day - since hearing those three sentences strung together - that I have not claimed them for myself and others. The comfort of knowing that we have been sent into each moment for a holy purpose. The confidence inspired by realizing that we are prepared and ready for this experience with spiritual skills, tools, resources, experiences, and proofs. And the abiding sense that we are not alone as we stand in this moment. Divine Love is with us every step of the way. Isaiah shares this promise:

"Now thus saith the Lord, Fear not -- when thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; I will make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert..." 

And the Pslamist, David writes:

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou are with me..."

Jesus would have known these promises from scripture. They must have been a great comfort to him. I know they have been for me. If the writing's on the wall -- and we know that we must pass through the fire of self-immolation, then the writing is also on the page, telling us how we can do navigate this passage with spiritual courage, strength, wisdom, and trust.

John relates this promise from Jesus:

"In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world."

What love he has shown us. What gifts of compassion and understanding he has left for us. No one was awake with Jesus in the garden to take notes. Yet we know what happened there - the plea, the tears, the surrender. He, himself, must have left record of this night of gloom and glory with his followers. Perhaps he left this record as  encouragement for all who he knows will follow him in their own path of devotion to God and mankind.

In Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy says this about our own sometimes tear-strewn path in following his example:

"It is possible, — yea, it is the duty and privilege of every child, man, and woman, — to follow in some degree the example of the Master by the demonstration of Truth and Life, of health and holiness."

As hard as that may seem to imagine,  we -- every child, man, and woman -- are ready to do this. We are well-prepared. Our spiritual storehouses are well-stocked.

As Paul writes in II Corinthians:

"God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work.

Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable gift."

Not long ago, I found myself in a very dark place. It was unexpected and unsettling. I reminded myself over and over again: I belong here. I am ready. I am not alone. I was willing to accept that this seeming darkness was really the backdrop for a brilliant Truth to be seen more clearly. Day-by-day I searched scripture, listened in prayer, waited patiently. I looked for God's presence in my life -- in hundreds of tiny ways -- reminding me that I was not alone. When the light broke -- it was not in opposition to the darkness, but enhanced by it.

We are prepared to see the lowering cloud for what it is -- the promise of healing, reviving rain. We can run for cover, or we can stay and watch the desert blossom as the rose. Arms stretched wide, face turned up to receive His bow of promise.

We belong here.  We belong in every moment of our own awakening to spiritual life and its possibilities -- whether it be through the doors of the temple, in the silence of a sanctuary, or on the path of our own cross-bearing. We are ready.  We are well-equipped with scriptural truths, confidence-inspiring experiences, prayer-based encouragement, and his life-affirming promises. And we are not alone. We have Jesus' example -- and most vitally, we have the kingdom of God at hand, with us, within our hearts.

Yes, the writing's on the wall. But His Word is written in our hearts.


offered with Love,

Kate

"Thy will be done..."

"I'm so confused.
I know I heard You
loud and clear.
So I followed through,
somehow I ended up here.

I don't want to think
I may never understand,
that my broken heart,
is part of Your plan.

When I try to pray,
all I get is hurt,
and these four words:

Thy will be done..."

This afternoon, I stumbled on Hillary Scott's beautiful song,  "Thy Will." And in the span of watching her video, I was transported -- sitting alone, in an almost empty flat in the middle of the city -- wondering how I got there.

Only months before, I'd been a modestly well-respected wife and mother living in a 3,000 square foot multi-level house in a suburban neighborhood. Now here I was. And I couldn't imagine how eleven months of listening humbly and importunately for God's direction -- and getting it, loud and clear -- could feel this terrifying, confusing, and lonely.

I was not -- at all -- unclear about what God had said to me. I'd felt His Love-impelled power of it in every molecule of my being. I wasn't naive, I knew it would not be easy, but I also knew that it was the most loving thing that I could do for everyone in my life. So why, if I had been obedient to Love's unexpected direction -- did it hurt so badly? And it did. It hurt in the marrow of my being.

This wasn't how being Love's bidding was supposed to feel. And I had no doubt that I had heard God's voice -- mostly because the message with so clearly not what I thought God would say. But in the instant I heard it, without cross-questioning it, I fell on my knees and wept aloud:

"Thy will be done."

I was not naive. I knew that in my circle of family, friends, colleagues, and acquaintances, what God was asking me to do would be questioned, judged, speculated and whispered about. I just didn't think it would be as devastating as it was.

I had truly hoped that my devotion to God would have spoken for me. That those who knew me would have at least asked me, "what the hell are you doing?" Then I would have, at least, had someone's arms to weep in. But instead, it seemed as if everyone was quite willing to assume that I'd gone off the rails and blown it. The shame was crushing.

This isn't about the what I did, or why. Because, to be completely honest -- the only why is, "God said." And exactly what God said, is still so deeply holy for me that I cannot write about it. If you were to call me, and it seemed spiritually relevant, I would tell you -- it's not a secret. But to type it here -- or anywhere -- has not been something I can do. It's just too sacred.

Sitting alone at my kitchen table in the city that day, I begged God for direction, "Dear God, how do I defend myself from all the swirling misinformation and judgment?" And God's answer was just as clear as his earlier direction:

"He opened not his mouth
in defense of himself."

I got it -- thoroughly, and quickly. If I wanted to follow Christ, I had to be willing to be questioned, scoffed at, speculated about, and misunderstood. It terrified me. Didn't God understand that I was the ultimate people pleaser. Didn't He get that my early life as a stepchild -- who was forced to ingratiate herself in order to "earn" the right to be sheltered and fed -- had made me this way.

Disappointing people was my greatest fear, making them happy was my drug. And here I was disappointing everyone I loved and knew. Again, I turned to the writings of Mary Baker Eddy. I opened her primary text, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures to page one and read:

"Prayer, watching, and working
combined with self-immolation,
are God's gracious means for accomplishing
whatever has been successfully done for
the Christianization and health of mankind."

And yes, in my copy of the book, the word "self-immolation" was bolded -- or at least it was that day. I knew what it meant. I'd been studying Eddy's work for decades. I knew that she recommended this practice of "suicide by fire," six times in her writings. And no, I didn't think she was encouraging me to grab a can of kerosene and a match -- she was urging the self-inflicted destruction of the ego.

In that moment, I understood. It wasn't going to be good enough for me to have my ego slayed by childhood circumstances, other people's choices, or chance. It was imperative that I took ownership of this humbling walk into the fire.

So I did. The ego wanted to run, to find a small rural community in Kansas to disappear into. To take my daughters (something I would never do) and change all of our names. Buy a farm and raise chickens.  But I knew better.  I'd lived that nightmare as a child.  Love demanded that I stay, walk with grace, live with courage, love with compassion, serve without hesitation, parent with dignity, and own my spiritual journey -- however scary that was.

It was not easy. In fact, there were many, many nights when I cried myself to sleep begging God to give me courage and strength to face the next day of averted glances, dismissal, and scorn. And He always did. My relationship to Jesus and Mary Baker Eddy was more strengthened by this time -- than any other experience in my life. I turned to their words and examples of grace -- continually -- for clues on how to navigate my own life.

Over and over again, I came back to:

"Thy will be done.
Thy will be done.
Thy will be done."

Long before this time -- when going through a physical challenge that had driven me to my knees -- I called someone who had been such a wonderful spiritual mentor. I needed encouragement, I needed for him to promise me that what I was going through was not spiritually right -- and to tell me that I could expect to be free of it. He didn't say those things. What he said was that "someday you are going to look back, and miss these days of being so hungry for God's touch in your life."

I thought he was mad-as-a-hatter at the time and told him so. But you know, he was right. The hard times -- those days when we are on our knees longing for answers, praying to feel the presence of grace -- they are the very best days.

Someone asked me recently why I do what I do -- take calls from people who are in pain, fearful, sad, confused. They couldn't understand why I would be so happy to get up in the morning, if I was just going to spend the day on the phone, Skyping, reading texts and emails from people who were struggling.

This is why. These challenges are not personal. When I am willing to sit with someone who is needing a "friend" to witness what they are facing, and willing to discern what is true -- I get to hear the angels with them. I discover how ripe with divine blessing our lives are when the fruit is most heavy. I get to watch the ego being slayed by the presence of divine Love.

God's will for us is to know Him in every moment of our lives. In I Thessalonians, chapter 5, verse 18, we are encouraged:

"In everything give thanks,
for this is the will of God..."

When we are willing to let go of a mortal, ego-centric sense of pride, accomplishment, acceptance, approval -- we find that everything -- and I mean everything -- is simply an opportunity to drawn nigh unto God and feel His nearness.

To those family members and friends who held me, let me weep, comforted me, trusted and encouraged me during those years -- I will never, ever, be able to say thank you with enough depth. My gratitude is unfathomable.


offered with Love,

Kate

"Your grace is enough..."

"Your grace is enough
I'm covered in your love
Your grace is enough for me...."

My friend Mindy asked me to participate in her church's* worship "gathering" last Sunday, by joining her for a discussion on "unconditional love."   Chris Tomlin's praise song, "Your Grace is Enough," led by their fellowship's band, was the prelude to that conversation.  It was perfect.

I am discovering, more and more, that there is, there can be, no separation between grace and unconditional love.  I cannot love unconditionally, or as my friend Susan Dane says, unreasonably, without grace. 

Some of my favorite definitions of grace are:

"the free, unmerited, undeserved, and unearned favor of God"

"the divine influence on the heart and its reflection in the life"

I believe that it is impossible to love unreasonably...beyond reason, and all human reasoning...without this kind of grace that is the very coincidence of the human and the divine within us.  One cannot find the depth of heart to love without the ego's permission...especially when everything in you, and everyone around you, is saying "they don't deserve it,'" without self-dissolving grace  It would be incomprehensible without Love's immanence, without God's unopposed influence on the heart...which overrides self-justification and the desire to "weigh in" on someone else's choices, a favorite activity of the ego...without the power of grace.

And in kind, one cannot accept this kind of unreasonable, unconditional love without grace.  It would be impossible for the human heart to genuinely receive love...when it feels undeserving...without a humble yielding to God's right to show us "unearned favor," and allow it to penetrate remorse, regret, self-doubt, and the ego's inclination to self-justify or hide its failings.  

Once this love-without-reason pierces the false membrane of self-preservation, it permeates every mental molecule of hardness, and begins to dissolve sin in the way Christ models for us in the garden of Gethsemane when he kisses his betrayer, and restores the ear of his captor.   We don't find him weighing the consequences of his favor..."Hmm,  does he deserve to be whole?   Will this healing make him think I don't mind being led away in chains?  What message am I sending by letting him kiss me?"  He knows that it is God's province to correct and govern, and it is his right, by "the grace of God," to love, love, love.   For this cause came he. 

I have made many mistakes in my life.  Sometimes those mistakes have left me feeling undeserving of love or mercy.  But it has only been a radical understanding of grace that has allowed me to rise above (or perhaps more accurately kneel below) the floods of self-hatred, to accept the generous gifts of unconditional love from those who are so deeply devoted to their own "growth in grace," that allow my mistakes to become their opportunities to love more, and more, and more...relentlessly more. 

There are acts of divine reciprocity that are beyond reason.  Mandela's forgiveness of his oppressors after 26 years in captivity - including the brutal treatment of his people - and the reconciliation that this made space for, in a nation poised for justifiable vengeance.  An Amish community's genuine care for the family of a gunman who took the lives of its innocent school children one bright, clear autumn day sweet with promise.  The courage it takes to reach out and be kind on a playground, when it would be just as easy to walk the other way.

As I said on Sunday, I have never learned to make better choices by being rejected, or ignored.  It is love, unreasonable, undeserved, unwarranted love that has taught me most about the kind of woman I want to be.  It is grace that allows for the generosity of the giving, and grace that allows me to receive it into my heart and let it have its way with me...making me want to be worthy of its gift. This grace allows us to not only embrace the sorrowing, the weary, the prodigal child, but to gives her opportunities to serve side-by-side with the giver.

In the Bible John witnesses that:

"And of his fullness have we all received,
and grace for grace.

"For the law was given by Moses,
but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ."

I love Moses for his courage, his commitment to Principle, his devotion to following His Father's voice as he led his people out of bondage, and his dedicated example of obedience to divine law.  But I know, that for me,  it was Jesus who taught us how to live this "grace for grace," how to practice this unconditional love, how to yield to this unwarranted divine care,  in the garden.  Mary Baker Eddy's definition of "Gethsemane" in the Glossary of Science and Heath with Key to the Scriptures says it all for me:

GETHSEMANE: Patient woe;
the human yielding to the divine; 
love meeting no response,
but still remaining love.

It is this unprecedented Gethsemane love that has most changed my life over the years.  It is this unreasonable love that has taught me, transformed me, given me purpose, and shown me who I am, and who I am designed to be.  It is this love without reason, without response, without condition, without deserving, without merit that has truly taught me that "Your grace is enough for me."

gratefully Yours,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

*Next Generation Christian Science Fellowship