"Every heart has so much history..."

"Every heart has so much history.
it's my favorite place to start.
Sit down awhile
and share your narrative with me.
I'm not afraid of who you are.
I'm all here, and you're all there...
Some of this is unique,
and some of it we share.
Let's add it up,
and start from there.
Oh, it's all right here...

It's what is best,
and what is worst.
And it's how I see the universe.
Oh, it's all right here..."

Over the last few weeks, I've been thinking alot about our stories - our spiritual life narratives - and why they are so important to us and to the humanity.  And this past weekend it was my privilege to conduct workshops on this subject for Dick Davenport's Midwest Bible Conference titled, "I Love to Tell the Story."

While I worked and prayed in preparation, Sara Groves' "It's All Right Here," kept lingering in my heart. 

I love that she reminds us that:

"Every heart has so much history.
It's my favorite place to start.
Sit down awhile,
and share your narrative with me.
I'm not afraid of who you are..."

This weekend I loved hearing the stories of truly brave men, and women, who were willing to unpack their suitcases of history with one another...in workshops, at lunch, and sitting on a basketball court between sessions.  Together we looked at all of those mental artifacts from our life narratives...deep sorrow, soaring joy, haunting regrets, rich accomplishments...and we listened.  I was so blessed by their stories, and I felt so honored to be trusted as a listener.  I sat in awe of their courage as they reclaimed each of those life-moments for God.

It became evident to each of us, that God had been there when the floods rose. God was there in the dark of night, the bright dawning of a new day, when bitter tears fell, and when hopes rose. God is always there, and the gift of seeing this seamless thread of His presence running golden through our life stories is an exercise rich with humility and redemption.

Looking at the Biblical life stories of people like Joseph and Jesus, Ruth and Hagar, gives us a platform for this kind of spiritual re-building in ourselves. Our lives become contemporary parables for others. 

Joseph's story is filled with pride, rejection, self-certainty, heartache.  And yet, when he recounts his life trajectory to his brothers...men who are horrified to come face-to-face with the victim of their bullying and betrayal...he doesn't ask for their apology and regret (which they are more than eager to extend) He reclaims his entire life narrative for God when he says:

"Be not grieved nor angry with yourselves, for it is not you, but God, which sent me before you to preserve you a posterity upon the earth."

Wow, arrogance, pit, slavery, false accusation, prison, rise to fame...nobody's fault, nobody's credit. He claimed he was God-sent into each moment as a blessing, and that was that.

You can look at the life of Jesus...just take the cutting off of Malchus' ear and his rebuke...of not the soldier arresting him, but his disciple defender...in these words:

"Put up again thy sword...thinkest thou not that I cannot now pray to my Father, and He will give me more than twelve legions of angels?  But how then shall the scriptures be fulfilled, that thus it must be?"

Or Hagar who discovers God's relationship to her son in the middle of the wilderness after being rejected by her mistress and her son's father. 

And of course there is Ruth, Bathsheba, Tamar Rahab...women whose life narratives are, at best, questionable, but whose true stories are redeemed through their presence in the geneology of Jesus Christ himself as related in the first chapter of Matthew.  And then there is Mary, a girl whose suspect pregnancy is redeemed through the birth and life of a boy who will become the risen Saviour.

In his "The Gospel According to Jesus" Stephen Mitchell suggests in contrasting the life narratives of Buddha, the prince who would become a humble servant to mankind, and Jesus, the illegitimate child who would become the Prince of Peace, that:

"We can see the respective beginnings of these two great men as opposite ends of the spectrum that is the human condition.  Together, their meaning is that no life is so sheltered or so shamed that it can't be transformed into a vehicle of God's grace, a vessel filled with the deepest charity and wisdom.  So capable are we of using whatever materials (or circumstances) we are given; so irresistible is the phototropism of the human soul."

Ahhh, "the phototropism of the human soul," that irresistible turning to the light of who we are as God-sent disciples of Christ with a holy purpose.  Standing in this light, we begin to see our stories through the lens of His over-arching presence within every moment.  As Sara also sings in another favorite,  "Add to the Beauty":

"Redemption comes in strange place, small spaces,
calling out the best of who we are..."

Redeeming our life stories for God, sharing them with others, and trusting those redemption narratives to call out the best of who we are...moment-by-incredibly-courageous-moment...turns our lives into living, breathing, healing contemporary scripture, blesses humanity, and brings the kind of freedom that we can only imagine from the dark precincts of the lonely tomb where fear, pride, and regret try to  shroud us in sorrow.  Spiritual living is not measured by a string of human success stories, but by moments radiant with salvation, redemption, and peace...an inner peace that persists in storm or shine.

"It comes in loving community
It comes in helping a soul find it's worth.."

Thank you, God, for sending me into this weekend full of loving community...I am your grateful daughter...
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

"A house that will not fall..."

"I am not a child now
I can take care of myself
I mustn't let them down now
Mustn't let them see me cry
I'm fine, I'm fine

I try and try to understand
The distance in between
The love I feel and the things I fear
And every single dream…"
- Jonatha Brooke
- From Disney's "Peter Pan – Return to Neverland"

I love Jonatha Brooke's "I Try," because I do try and try, but sometimes I don't feel fine.  This was the case one day last week when I just felt like a total failure.  And it's not the first time. 

Sometimes it just feels like I pray and study and pray and listen and pray, and pray and pray..and still things don't work out the way I thought would certainly be God's way. At least not what I thought God's way should look like.  Am I the only one who wonders, "How could a hurricane take away a grandmother's front porch, why shouldn't a job come through quickly for an out-of-work friend, why can't we find a perfect little cottage for a loved one, why doesn't a relationship issue resolve quickly,and will the check the widow is waiting for really be "in the mail" as promised? 

Yes, everyday I do see countless instances of physical healing, resurrected hopes, and personal, collective and global transformation…but sometimes I just want to not have one day in which I don't feel as if I am leaning into the winds and waves of misunderstanding, self-doubt or regret…gripping the rock with my toes and hanging on for dear life. 

Shouldn't all that prayer and study prevent misunderstandings,  unkindness, alarming physical symptoms, and the threat of  hurricane each season? 

Well, I was sitting in my office last week deep in the midst of a personal storm while studying scripture and taking calls when I came upon one of Jesus' parables that I had read so often I could recite it, word-for-word, by heart:

"…whosoever heareth these sayings of mine,
and doeth them,
I will liken him unto a wise man,
Which built his house upon a rock;

And the rains descended,
And the floods came,
And the winds blew,
And beat upon that house;

And it fell not:
For it was founded upon a rock..."

But this time it spoke to my heart in a new way.  As I broke it down it came to me with such clarity…this guy does everything right: he hears Jesus' sayings, he does what Jesus asks of him, he is wise and builds his house upon a rock…you would think that would lead to only good…  sunny days, light breezes, gentle rain, calm seas…not!!!  The rains descend, the floods come, the winds blow, and his house gets beaten.  So what is different for this guy, who does everything right and the guy who builds on the sand? 

So back I go to the text:

"And everyone that heareth these sayings of mine
and doeth them not,
shall be likened unto a foolish man
which built his house uon the sand;

And the rains descended,
And the floods came,
And the winds blew,
And beat upon that house;
And it fell:
And great was the fall of it."

So, hmm…both guys get hurricanes, monsoons, tornadoes…but the wise guy's beaten house just doesn't fall…it still gets buffeted, flooded and beaten…it just doesn't fall. 

So, I thought, "what have I done wrong, I always pray, study, listen, obey as best as I can to what God is saying…"  But then the question came…out of the blue, "What is your house…is it a job, a marriage, an arm, a bank account, a day without challenges?"  And immediately on the heels of that question, came Mary Baker Eddy's spiritual interpretation of the last line from the 23rd Psalm, "And I will dwell in the house [the consciousness] of [Love] forever" (Science and Health pg. 578).

There it was.   A sweet peace swept over my heart like a soft breeze after a long storm.  The rains, winds, floods and beating were not prevented by the "wise" man who listens to Jesus' sayings, and does them, and builds on a rock.   Both the wise and the foolish experience them.  And these storms take many shapes.  Joblessness, a marriage that ends in divorce, financial uncertainty, a life-threatening diagnosis, an actual hurricane, feelings of depression, sadness or despair…or even just the day-to-day suggestions that we are cranky, resentful, judgmental or petty mortals. 

These tornadoes of personal sense swirl around us but they are NOT the house that is so ill-founded that it falls.  Nor is owning a home without a mortgage, a secure job, a comfortable bank balance, or a symptomless body a measure of a house that doesn't fall...no matter how lovely those instances may be or how grateful I am for every bit of good I am blessed with. Otherwise, my house is constantly moving.  One day I am debt-free, but my conversation with a friend is rife with misunderstanding, or the next I find a suspicious growth, but my marriage is  happy.  Where do I find my ground in this kind of ever-changing, always moving measure of being a wise or foolish man/woman.

But, the house that doesn't fall isn't found in a job, a marriage, a bank account, a healthy organization or a beautiful body.  The house that doesn't fall is found in the "consciousness of Love", our consciousness, our awareness that we even when we can't get out of bed...we can always love, we can always find God as Love being expressed…somewhere…in the world, in our world and the world at large, and find our hope restored, our faith buoyed, our desire to go to God in prayer…one more time…resurrected. 

For me, this is the house that is built on a Rock and will not fall.  I realized that I may not always have sunny days with calm winds out of the East…that the waves of self-doubt may lash at my foundation and the winds of "what if" may try to take the roof off of my little cottage on a Rock, but my house, my consciousness of Love, will not fall.  Even if I am picking pieces of weathered clapboard off the beach and re-pointing the foundation the next day…I can always go into my little house on the Rock and find God there in all His eloquent silence and listen for His "Peace be still (never-the-less)…and the wind ceased, and there was a great calm." 

"I can finally see it
Now I have to believe
All those precious stories
That the world is made of...
Faith, and trust... and pixie dust

So, I'll try
Because I finally believe
I'll try, cuz I can see what you see

I'll try, I'll try
I will try…"

Enjoy a cup of tea in God's house by the sea…because it is in this house, in this "consciousness of Love", that:

"the winds and waves can shock
oh, nevermore…"
-Mary Baker Eddy

with Love,

Kate

The overturning of the "soul"...

“Sow in the morn Thy seed,
At eve hold not Thy hand;
To doubt and fear give Thou no heed;
Broadcast it o’er the land…”
- John Montgomery

So as promised, here is a continuation of Monday’s discussion with my girlfriends at the college (scroll down to see the Tuesday's post) and some of the ways this conversation about “feelings” has sparked a deep dialogue within my own heart.

So there we were talking about redeeming feelings that at one time in our lives or another had defined themselves as negative: fear, worry, depression…and reclaiming them for God…the ONLY Cause and Creator in our lives, and the subject of discomfort came up.  What about those feelings of discomfort, hurt and pain.  Are those redeemable?

Hmm…as I sat there thinking about my own experiences with these feelings, I could not help but have those questions land smack in the middle of the environment of my spiritual study from that morning.  I had been pondering, again…as it happens to be a long-time favorite of mine…Jesus’ parable of the man, the householder, who sows good seed in his field and up springs not only the intended wheat, but also tares…weeds. 

I was in an agrarian state of mind.  My thought was full of farming metaphors and analogies.  Everything was translating into fields, pastures, seed, rakes, hoes, shovels, weeds….and so this question about feelings of discomfort was plopped right into the middle of that thinking.

And what came so naturally to thought…right as we were talking…was the question, “How comfortable must it be for the earth, the ground that comprises the garden, to have a shovel poked into it’s nice quiet, winter fallow soil?”  It is probably pretty unsettling, quite flip-floppying to have a hoe come along and lift up the topsoil and dig down deep.  I bet it’s comfortable to just lie there, undisturbed and quiet in the warm Spring sunshine.  I know how much I like it when I can lie completely still under my quilts and not move the slightest…drifting in and out of slumber and dreaming.  I don’t like it when someone rips those nice warm quilts, worn and soft from years of snuggling, right off my dreamy self and I have to get up and get to work.

But without that letting go of our comforts…that turning over of the soil…the garden will not take new seed, it will continue to lie fallow, the seed will be washed away by the first Spring rain, and the water will just become run-off, not able to penetrate the hard compacted earth.  The earth, which has all the potential to become a garden…will remain a dry, weed infested (because that is all that can survive in fallow soil) plot.  But with the hoeing, turning, plowing…they earth can accept the seed, it can hold the water and then the flowers, fruits and vegetables can grow... providing beauty and sustenance for the community.

I became so excited about sharing this metaphor with my friends that it all just spilled in a rush..  How many times had my life been turned upside down just before I had learned new lessons, taken exciting new steps, or found unexpected beauty and grace in my life or in the kindness of others.  How often had the precursor to deep spiritual insights felt like pain, fear, uncertainty, a profound and utter shaking up of my comfort.  Had these feelings really been the hoeing of my heart readying it for new seed, greater harvest gifts that could...and would... feed a waiting world.

Had I merely interpreted them as pain, sorrow, fear…when really they were the first lispings of God’s unimaginable promise.

All of a sudden my life shifted into greater focus.  Almost as if I suddenly could see that the prophecy from John was being delivered directly to me:

“Verily, verily, I say unto you, That ye shall weep and lament,
but the world shall rejoice: and ye shall be sorrowful,
but your sorrow shall be turned into joy. 
A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow,
because her hour is come:
but as soon as she is delivered of the child,
she remembereth no more the anguish,
for joy that a man is born into the world.”

For me this suddenly made sense.  If I were in labor with a child, the onset of that labor would mean something so wonderful and sweet.  I could love and embrace those feelings of discomfort, with joy. 

I realized that I could do this with the feelings of loneliness, fear, sorrow, doubt…that had been the onset of my own labor in birthing (or unselfing) a better sense of “self”…one that recognizes God as its only Cause and Creator…the only I AM that ever will be.  I could just as easily define those “feelings” as excitement, promise, the anticipation of great growth. 

I remember when I was little (and I was little…4’6” as a freshman in high school) I was so happy when my shoes became too tight and were uncomfortable.  This meant that I was growing.  I didn’t want to be a “little person”… I wanted to be tall enough to dance with a ballet company.  And 4’6” dancers didn't present the optimum visual aesthetic for Balanchine ballerinas in the 1960s.  That discomfort made me happy.  I wanted to outgrow those old shoes.

Today I want to outgrow old garments of behavior and thinking that no longer fits.  I want the discomfort of no longer being self-satisfied with that old view of myself…and others.  I long for the great Farmer to dig in his hoe and break through any hard, fallow thinking I may have become satisfied or comfortable with…and prepare my heart for His seed.

Bring it on!

So…these were the ideas we shared, as well as some others I have been cherishing this week. 

As my grandmother once said, “You don’t long for the Comforter…when you are comfortable”.  It’s true...when the temperature in my house is comfortable…I’m not as inclined to go searching for my comforter…and when my life is comfortable…I’m not as hungry for The Comforter. 

So…I think I am going to take those feelings of being unsettled, worried, uncertain…and reclaim them for God.  I will allow my spiritually longing self to redefine them.  These are now feelings of being shaken from a fallow rut…thank you God, of being hungry for the real sustenance of knowing His ever-present care rather than confidence in my own ability to “survive”…thank you God, of a deep desire to feel the peace that comes from surrender rather than control…thank you God. 

And thanks to my friends for a great conversation on Monday morning.

“A grateful heart a garden is
Where there is always room
For every perfect God-like grace
To come to perfect bloom…”
- Ethel Wasgatt Dennis

With Love,
Kate (still missing Jeff's editing)