T.S. Tuesday: On Wanting Things

“Sometimes things become possible if we want them bad enough.” 

― T.S. Eliot

I'm reminded of a story, a parable of a persistent friend who does not give up on what he wants. 

"Jesus said to them, 'Suppose you have a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; a friend of mine on a journey has come to me, and I have no food to offer him.’ And suppose the one inside answers, ‘Don’t bother me. The door is already locked, and my children and I are in bed. I can’t get up and give you anything.’ I tell you, even though he will not get up and give you the bread because of friendship, yet because of your shameless audacity he will surely get up and give you as much as you need.

   

“So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened." Luke 11:5-10

Wait a minute? Ask anything? Want anything? Even if it's my fault I'm ill-prepared to take in a friend at midnight, I can still ask for bread repeatedly, obnoxiously? And Jesus goes so far as to make this the example for prayer. 

I have a problem with wanting things. Well, not a problem with wanting things, but a problem with feeling guilty for wanting things. I don't believe I'm allowed to want something unless it's world peace or the end of poverty or the well being of someone else. I'm not allowed to want something just for me.

I also get wrapped up in thinking that it's somehow my fault that I don't have it in the first place--like the man who wasn't ready to care for his traveling friend without a neighbor's assistance. I can't ask for it because I should have handled it on my own. I believe I'm left to handle it on my own. 

And when good things happen--things I wanted--I question how much was God and how much was my "bad enough?"

The fulfillment of a selfish desire. I still feel guilty.

How is that freedom? How is that basking? Wasn't it God who made my heart and its desires? Isn't it God who wants to see me thriving and fulfilled? Who wants to give me joy? 

Why do I have such a hard time believing He wants good things for me? Why do I have such a hard time accepting the good things? Or an even worse time asking for good things?

God, I know you know the desires of my heart. You placed them there. You knit them into the fabric of my being. I ask for wisdom in distinguishing your prompting from my selfishness. And I ask for grace when I confuse them. 

I ask for humility to use the gifts you've given--the things I've wanted--to serve and bless others, to bring your Kingdom.  

I ask for the courage to want something bad enough that it just might become possible. And I ask for the humility to give thanks both for the desiring and the fulfilling. 

Amen. 

The Eye of the Storm

I've been talking about hurricanes a lot.

Describing God's faithfulness in the eye of the storm. Telling harrowing tales of floods and evacuations.

Today God had something to tell me about hurricanes.

At the end of the service at my church, there's always the invitation to come up and receive prayer. You can receive prayer specifically pertaining to the message--today it was about knowing and experiencing God—and you can receive prayer on absolutely anything that needs prayer in your life. That's one of the (many, many) things I love about my church.

Today I went up for prayer.

I asked the woman who prayed for me to pray for vision regarding a decision I've been wrestling with for the past several months. I was asking for vision, but I was wanting answers, wanting God-given permission to do what I already know I want to do.

The woman had a vision for me:

"I'm getting a picture of a tornado or some kind of storm or cyclone. I don't know why but I feel like God is saying that he is with you in the eye of the storm."

Sheesh. Talk about apropos.*

I don't think any metaphor could have spoken more strongly to me today.

This woman knows me, prays for me every day and I serve with her at church. But she didn't know I had just gone to North Carolina. She didn't know I was just in a hurricane. She didn't know I had just experienced God's loving presence in the eye of the storm.

That was the glory and the voice of God. Reminding me that he's here. In the midst of the storms and the decisions.

I must admit my gut reaction is to yell, "Then get me out of the freakin hurricane!"

But his answer is different, although not something that I don't know. In fact, I've been writing about and thinking about and working this metaphor out in my mind with great fervor this past week. My last blog post talked specifically about God's grace in the storm. I said, "in the eye of the hurricane, I experienced peace, rest, and the richness of time spent with family."

What I'd like to add now is....and God. I experienced God in the eye of the storm. Literally this last week, and he wants me to experience him now. Before the storm has passed, before the decisions are made, before all my duckies are in a row.

As I seek answers, he seeks relationship.

I think that about sums it up. This is a lesson I'm going to have to learn and relearn and learn again. And, hey, I think it's pretty incredible that God's using his church body to speak into my life. To remind me that he's here with me in the eye of the storm.

And all I can say is thank you.

*Cameron, apropos means this was a very timely and opportune response. I will be initiating Big Word Wednesday this week, too.

I am my own worst legalist

I am my own worst legalist.

The other day my pastor at Coast Vineyard described legalists as "anyone who will steal grace from you."

I've always thought of legalists as people who impose rules and regulations, add stress and judgment to your life. I never thought of what they take away: grace.

A couple months ago a friend of mine attended an event in North Carolina called the Wild Goose Festival. The Wild Goose is a celtic metaphor for the the Holy Spirit. The organizers of the festival described themselves as "followers of Jesus creating a festival of justice, spirituality, music and the arts. The festival is rooted in the Christian tradition and therefore open to all regardless of belief, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, denomination or religious affiliation."

That all sounded good to me. My own life has been transformed by the creative and re-creative power of the Holy Spirit, so the whole premise resonated with me. In reading about the festival I was especially moved by their acknowledgment that "the creative and open nature of our faith is perhaps our greatest asset for re-building and strengthening our relationships with each other, with our enemies, with our stories, our texts, and the earth."

Still sounded good to me.

My friend, Colin, who attended the festival, agreed that "the vibe of many people enjoying simply being with each other and sharing their joys, sorrows, and struggles was undeniable." (Check out more of his thoughts here)

To me, that sounds a lot like grace.

Which is why I was appalled a few weeks later when I Googled the festival and the top hits came back as articles denouncing this gathering of "neo-Gnostic fools who've unbuckled themselves from the Word of God and have embarked upon their Wild Goose Chase of subjective experience." (Southern Baptist blogger Ken Silva of Apprising Ministries quoted in an article in The Christian Century).

Now, I'm no expert on theology and I shy away at political debates, and I definitely don't want to get into a discussion about the Emergent church or anything like that, but the outcry of negativity sounded like legalism to me. A grace heist.

As my blood boiled, I was reminded of what my pastor said about legalists, "Expect opposition." That was just the fuel I needed to villanize those awful, closed-minded Christians.

And just as I was about to condemn these condemners under the rouse of tolerance and acceptance and standing up for my creative, grace-seeking brothers and sisters, it dawned on me that I had become my own worst grace-stealing legalist.

The Bible calls us not to division but to unity. My home group Bible study just finished going through the book of Ephesians and the theme of unity came up so many times that by the end we were parroting "unity" as the catchall answer like young VBSers shouting out "Jesus!" in response to any question.

Paul's exhortation to "live a life worthy of the calling you have received," applies just as much to me as the Wild Goose critics. I, too, am called to "Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all." (Ephesians 4:1-6)

It seems we all need a good dose of the Wild Goose.