Well, if you're still reading this Lent Blog - props to you. You might be one of those people who have a difficult time moving on when time has passed. Okay, that might just be me.
So I was not ready for Easter this year - as you can tell from my last post. Sunday came around and I was not ready to celebrate the risen Jesus. This is not because I don't believe that Jesus really rose from the dead, but rather I was not ready to rise from my season of Lent. But here I am two days late and slowly coming around to embrace the fact that Easter is to remind us to hope.
As Nouwen puts it in the Easter Sunday reading, "There still is fear, there still is a painful awareness of sinfulness, but there also is light breaking through. Something new is happening, something that goes beyond the changing moods of our life. We can be joyful or sad, optimistic or pessimistic, tranquil or angry, but the solid stream of God's presence moves deeper than the small waves of our minds and hearts."
Yes, the season of Lent has passed (except for the Eastern Orthodox who celebrate it this coming Sunday - I probably fit in a little better with their calendar). But, I'm coming to a place of hoping in hope again and in allowing God's presence is walk with me through the mountains and the valleys.
It's been wonderful journeying with all of you through this season. I love you all lots.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
Fighting off Easter
For the past two weeks, I've dreaded the thought of Easter coming. Maybe because I would rather moap in my world of greys, blacks, and browns than the happy pinks, yellows, and pastels that indicate that spring and new hope is here. Darkness has become my friend. It is familiar, predictable, and has become a place I can call home.
I have a love-hate relationship with Lent. I love that it's a season where I can travel to the deep abyss of my soul and have permission to deal with the ugliness of my heart. I can commiserate with those who are experiencing the same pains, sins, and woundings. I despise Lent because in my pea-sized brain I'm petrified that in 5 days I'm suppose to be coming out of this season and happily stuff my face with pink, purple, and yellow marshmallow rabbit-shaped Peeps.
I'm not ready to celebrate Easter and the thoughts of everything being wonderful and cheery because my heart is definitely not painted with crayola-colored pastels. Can I push the snooze button on Easter?
I have a love-hate relationship with Lent. I love that it's a season where I can travel to the deep abyss of my soul and have permission to deal with the ugliness of my heart. I can commiserate with those who are experiencing the same pains, sins, and woundings. I despise Lent because in my pea-sized brain I'm petrified that in 5 days I'm suppose to be coming out of this season and happily stuff my face with pink, purple, and yellow marshmallow rabbit-shaped Peeps.
I'm not ready to celebrate Easter and the thoughts of everything being wonderful and cheery because my heart is definitely not painted with crayola-colored pastels. Can I push the snooze button on Easter?
Monday, April 2, 2007
Palm Sunday in Tijuana
I hate driving in Tijuana.
I'm sure there are worse places to be behind the wheel, but anywhere that it takes you three hours to go a mile or two at least deserves an honorable mention. Take a roadside festival, a political protest, a couple of strategically placed stalled vehicles, and the ever-lovable Tijuana police department (who, as the running joke went, "in their infinite wisdom" closed down several roads, apparently at random), and it was neither a very restful nor a very worshipful experience of Palm Sunday.
But we did get the crowds. Hallelujah, did we ever get the crowds.
I did a bit of reflecting upon it today. (The experience itself did not greatly facilitate reflection.) I thought about the thousands and thousands of people cramming themselves into that dirty, ugly little city, all trying to get home. I thought about the beggars, street vendors, and crooked cops. I thought about the abandoned kids I'd spent the weekend with. And I thought about how if we really believed someone could come along and fix the whole fucked-up mess we've made of this place, we'd probably take our jackets off and lay them on the ground to make a road for Him too.
That week 2000 years ago didn't turn out quite how anyone in the crowd expected. A lot of what they thought was about to happen, we're still waiting for. Maybe a lot of what we think ought to be happening, we're still waiting for too.
Waiting is hard. Disappointments are hard. Inching along towards the goal, getting nowhere fast and sometimes just getting nowhere--that's hard too. And the thing about Palm Sunday is that you know the worst is yet to come.
But so is the best. Hang on, folks. We're getting closer.
I'm sure there are worse places to be behind the wheel, but anywhere that it takes you three hours to go a mile or two at least deserves an honorable mention. Take a roadside festival, a political protest, a couple of strategically placed stalled vehicles, and the ever-lovable Tijuana police department (who, as the running joke went, "in their infinite wisdom" closed down several roads, apparently at random), and it was neither a very restful nor a very worshipful experience of Palm Sunday.
But we did get the crowds. Hallelujah, did we ever get the crowds.
I did a bit of reflecting upon it today. (The experience itself did not greatly facilitate reflection.) I thought about the thousands and thousands of people cramming themselves into that dirty, ugly little city, all trying to get home. I thought about the beggars, street vendors, and crooked cops. I thought about the abandoned kids I'd spent the weekend with. And I thought about how if we really believed someone could come along and fix the whole fucked-up mess we've made of this place, we'd probably take our jackets off and lay them on the ground to make a road for Him too.
That week 2000 years ago didn't turn out quite how anyone in the crowd expected. A lot of what they thought was about to happen, we're still waiting for. Maybe a lot of what we think ought to be happening, we're still waiting for too.
Waiting is hard. Disappointments are hard. Inching along towards the goal, getting nowhere fast and sometimes just getting nowhere--that's hard too. And the thing about Palm Sunday is that you know the worst is yet to come.
But so is the best. Hang on, folks. We're getting closer.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
no title
i just remembered that today is palm sunday.
It was this Sunday almost 2000 years ago, that Jesus entered into Jerusalem to a group of people hailing Him as messiah, yet it was these same people that would not stand by him (or maybe even turn against him) six days later and have him put to death.
and so i started thinking about Jesus and what he must have been thinking as he rode into Jerusalem,, hearing the praises of people that he knew would turn their backs on him at his darkest moments. how did he take it? was he grateful for their praises, even if it were for that time? did he despise them for their two-sidednesss and fickle hearts?
it's quite interesting because it makes me think about how he accepts me now, that one day I would be praising him with hands lifted high, and the next i would be consciously choosing to forsake who he is, his Lordship in my life, his relationship to me as friend. does he accept my praises of today even though he knows my sins of tomorrow? truth is that he loves me the same today and the day that I forsake him.
I'm confused because i can understand how it would be hard to accept the love of someone whose love for you seems to be constantly changing and inconsistent, but i wonder then, why is it so hard for me to accept God's love for me, which never changes?
It was this Sunday almost 2000 years ago, that Jesus entered into Jerusalem to a group of people hailing Him as messiah, yet it was these same people that would not stand by him (or maybe even turn against him) six days later and have him put to death.
and so i started thinking about Jesus and what he must have been thinking as he rode into Jerusalem,, hearing the praises of people that he knew would turn their backs on him at his darkest moments. how did he take it? was he grateful for their praises, even if it were for that time? did he despise them for their two-sidednesss and fickle hearts?
it's quite interesting because it makes me think about how he accepts me now, that one day I would be praising him with hands lifted high, and the next i would be consciously choosing to forsake who he is, his Lordship in my life, his relationship to me as friend. does he accept my praises of today even though he knows my sins of tomorrow? truth is that he loves me the same today and the day that I forsake him.
I'm confused because i can understand how it would be hard to accept the love of someone whose love for you seems to be constantly changing and inconsistent, but i wonder then, why is it so hard for me to accept God's love for me, which never changes?
Thursday, March 29, 2007
My Lenten Journey (or lack thereof)
I feel like I’m not really observing Lent.
I apologize if this sounds irreverent to anyone reading, but I think for at least half the Lenten season I’ve forgotten it’s Lent, but I was soon reminded of it when I literally got a rude awakening last Saturday morning when two Jehovah’s Witnesses knocked on my door handing me a flyer. I actually thought they were Christians at first, but then I looked at the flyer which read something like this: “Jesus- The Greatest Man that Ever Lived. Join us as we discuss questions such as Who is this Jesus?, What did he do for us?...” Then at the bottom I notice that the meeting is at Kingdom Hall in Costa Mesa…. I throw it away and crawl back into bed.
I don’t have any profound epiphanies to share during this Lenten Journey so far. In fact, I hardly feel like I’m really on a ‘Lenten Journey’ at all. I’ve been disobedient, indulgent, self-focused and I still feel like I’m on this journey of darkness in my life. As much as I hoped and thought that I was being led out of it, I feel like I keep getting sucked into the darkness. Just when I thought things could not be any worse, what do you know? I honestly did not know whether to laugh or cry. I asked God, “Are you kidding me? How much more of this can I take?”
I think I resonate with Becky’s sentiments in her last post in secretly finding joy in recounting how much pain I’ve been through. It's so much easier to whine and wallow in the pain instead of letting God bring you out of it. Maybe in some ways I am the one holding myself back from being at a better place.
Someone prayed for me once when I was really low. She said that she saw an image of me drowning in quicksand. At the time, I interpreted that quicksand to be external forces such as other people and other things out of my control. But I realized later that it was my own pain that I was drowning in, and I did have control of how far I wanted to sink into it. It’s not easy to get out (I’ve never actually been in quicksand but I imagine it isn’t an easy thing to pull yourself out of)… but not impossible either.
I think through the bad and the ugly though, God has shown me something good. I think as God brings up the difficult situations, I have learned how to respond. It is through this process that God is able to show me that He has brought me much further from where I was before, that in the face of some of life’s ridiculous moments, I can see them for just that and not as an excuse to jump back into that quicksand of pain.
I apologize if this sounds irreverent to anyone reading, but I think for at least half the Lenten season I’ve forgotten it’s Lent, but I was soon reminded of it when I literally got a rude awakening last Saturday morning when two Jehovah’s Witnesses knocked on my door handing me a flyer. I actually thought they were Christians at first, but then I looked at the flyer which read something like this: “Jesus- The Greatest Man that Ever Lived. Join us as we discuss questions such as Who is this Jesus?, What did he do for us?...” Then at the bottom I notice that the meeting is at Kingdom Hall in Costa Mesa…. I throw it away and crawl back into bed.
I don’t have any profound epiphanies to share during this Lenten Journey so far. In fact, I hardly feel like I’m really on a ‘Lenten Journey’ at all. I’ve been disobedient, indulgent, self-focused and I still feel like I’m on this journey of darkness in my life. As much as I hoped and thought that I was being led out of it, I feel like I keep getting sucked into the darkness. Just when I thought things could not be any worse, what do you know? I honestly did not know whether to laugh or cry. I asked God, “Are you kidding me? How much more of this can I take?”
I think I resonate with Becky’s sentiments in her last post in secretly finding joy in recounting how much pain I’ve been through. It's so much easier to whine and wallow in the pain instead of letting God bring you out of it. Maybe in some ways I am the one holding myself back from being at a better place.
Someone prayed for me once when I was really low. She said that she saw an image of me drowning in quicksand. At the time, I interpreted that quicksand to be external forces such as other people and other things out of my control. But I realized later that it was my own pain that I was drowning in, and I did have control of how far I wanted to sink into it. It’s not easy to get out (I’ve never actually been in quicksand but I imagine it isn’t an easy thing to pull yourself out of)… but not impossible either.
I think through the bad and the ugly though, God has shown me something good. I think as God brings up the difficult situations, I have learned how to respond. It is through this process that God is able to show me that He has brought me much further from where I was before, that in the face of some of life’s ridiculous moments, I can see them for just that and not as an excuse to jump back into that quicksand of pain.
Friday, March 23, 2007
The Stinky Side of Suffering (Today's Lent Reading)
I'd like to believe that I use to have quite a high threshold for pain and suffering. I would hold out and refuse medication for as long as I could if I had a migraine headache, fever, or sore throat. It was my way of proving that I could overcome suffering and pain and limit it to a battle of the will. The same sentiment was applied when I was faced with pain that dealt with feelings and emotions of the heart. In fact, I would secretly find joy in the fact that I could count the number I cried in college on one hand or how I was the kleenex-passer in movies that everyone else was sobbing in.
As I've gotten older, that mysterious threshold somehow disappeared. I pop every type of medication I can when I start feeling achey and find myself getting misty-eyed when something stirs my heart.
I cannot explain why suffering happens. In fact, it's has been the greatest mystery to me recently. I find myself despising with a passion when I hear others or the voice inside my head say it's "the will of God". For if God is for us....why is he still against us? (yes, I'm sure there's some long textbook theological answer someone can give me...but I'm not really asking)
Nouwen writes, "Therefore, instead of declaring anything and everything to be the will of God, we must be willing to ask ourselves where in the midst of our pains and sufferings we can discern the moving presence of God....We are poor listeners because we are afraid that there is something other than the love of God...We doubt what presents itself to us as love and are always on guard, prepared for disappointments."
I think that hit me between the eyes. That means we cannot "experience love without jealousy, resentment, revenge, or even hatred", which also means we will not experience suffering without these feelings too. When I experience vertigo, GERD, stiff lower back pain, heartache (boy, I sound like I'm 107 years old!), my initial feelings of resentment surface. I forget that in the midst of the physical or emotional suffering, I still remain in God's loving presence.
For me, that's the harder place to be. Yes, I'd rather monku (japanese slang for complain) so loud about the cards I've been dealt and allow my heart and mind to be filled with noise.
Yet, God calls me to commit to listening and to soak in His love without fear. It's a scary thing.
As I've gotten older, that mysterious threshold somehow disappeared. I pop every type of medication I can when I start feeling achey and find myself getting misty-eyed when something stirs my heart.
I cannot explain why suffering happens. In fact, it's has been the greatest mystery to me recently. I find myself despising with a passion when I hear others or the voice inside my head say it's "the will of God". For if God is for us....why is he still against us? (yes, I'm sure there's some long textbook theological answer someone can give me...but I'm not really asking)
Nouwen writes, "Therefore, instead of declaring anything and everything to be the will of God, we must be willing to ask ourselves where in the midst of our pains and sufferings we can discern the moving presence of God....We are poor listeners because we are afraid that there is something other than the love of God...We doubt what presents itself to us as love and are always on guard, prepared for disappointments."
I think that hit me between the eyes. That means we cannot "experience love without jealousy, resentment, revenge, or even hatred", which also means we will not experience suffering without these feelings too. When I experience vertigo, GERD, stiff lower back pain, heartache (boy, I sound like I'm 107 years old!), my initial feelings of resentment surface. I forget that in the midst of the physical or emotional suffering, I still remain in God's loving presence.
For me, that's the harder place to be. Yes, I'd rather monku (japanese slang for complain) so loud about the cards I've been dealt and allow my heart and mind to be filled with noise.
Yet, God calls me to commit to listening and to soak in His love without fear. It's a scary thing.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Update on Lent Group Meeting
Hi Everyone,
As I looked over the original dates, I realized that we planned to meet this upcoming Sunday, March 25 and not Palm Sunday. Let's plan on doing so...that way we won't run into the issue of meeting thrice the following week.
As for Good Friday, I recently learned that some of the House churches are planning to observe Good Friday together. If you are part of a Friday House Church, please do participate in that community, though I also realize that not all the House churches meet on Friday.
For those of you who are available and interested in meeting together on Friday, April 6 to observe Good Friday, Paul and I are open to your ideas of how to observe this day together. We are also open hosting a Seder Meal and having a time to share our reflections on this past Lent season. We can also worship as we have in the past Sundays through liturgy & Scripture reading. Please have a think about it and we can make a decision together at the end of our Lent meeting this upcoming Sunday.
I hope you are well and look forward to seeing you Sunday.
As I looked over the original dates, I realized that we planned to meet this upcoming Sunday, March 25 and not Palm Sunday. Let's plan on doing so...that way we won't run into the issue of meeting thrice the following week.
As for Good Friday, I recently learned that some of the House churches are planning to observe Good Friday together. If you are part of a Friday House Church, please do participate in that community, though I also realize that not all the House churches meet on Friday.
For those of you who are available and interested in meeting together on Friday, April 6 to observe Good Friday, Paul and I are open to your ideas of how to observe this day together. We are also open hosting a Seder Meal and having a time to share our reflections on this past Lent season. We can also worship as we have in the past Sundays through liturgy & Scripture reading. Please have a think about it and we can make a decision together at the end of our Lent meeting this upcoming Sunday.
I hope you are well and look forward to seeing you Sunday.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)