Big Deal

The sound of the vacuum cleaner greeted me as I walked through the doors and into the church foyer. It was 1998 and I was volunteering a few hours a week as a secretary. The man holding the hose - the custodian of the building - saw me. A half-smile flickered across his lips and he leaned over. He flicked a switch, and the vacuum's engine wheezed to a stand-still, rumbling its last bit of protest as he approached me. He had his "I got something to tell ya" look on his face, all serious. I wondered what in the world was next.

"You heard that Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves, did ya?" he asked me.

I nodded. "Yeah, I heard that somewhere or other." 

He leaned in closer and his voice became a hoarse whisper. "Well - he didn't get this far north!" Then he rocked back on his heels as I laughed ... and grinned as he turned back toward the vacuum. 

He was like that. 

He loved a good laugh. He loved food (cooking it and eating it!) He loved his dear wife. And he loved his Savior. Everything he did, he did with his whole heart. There were never any half-measures. It was whole hog - or in his case, whole "Jiggs dinner" (corned beef and cabbage) - or nothing.

He took particular delight in making people laugh. With him, not AT him. Though he and his wife were never able to have children, kids loved this guy. They flocked around him, calling him by his first name with the title "Mister" before it. "Mister Merrill" was a fixture at the preschool that was housed in the basement of the church for many a year. 

He was a living example of joy and of how the flame of romance never had to go out. He never lost the wonder that his little slip of a wife, whom he considered to be the most beautiful lady on the planet, was in love with him. And my, how he loved her. He always referred to her as "the bride." His bride. Wow.

This photo, "Wedding Day Thoughts"
courtesy of Timeless Photography at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

One friend tells me that he'd say her name over and over to himself as he worked. Out loud - so her name would echo in the halls and come back to him. He did all the cooking, all the housework. He drove her to Costco nearly every weekend and filled up the van with whatever she wanted. And speaking of the van ... since she was small of stature, he would outfit any new van he got with running boards, so that she could step up into it with no trouble. He'd hold the door open for her. He doted on her every whim. 

On the days I'd come in a little late to the church office, the vacuum would be silent. I knew he was catching a little snooze in one of the back pews - a habit he started in his youth and never saw any reason to stop - and that he would be awake in a half hour or less, full of energy to face the rest of the day. 

He shared his philosophy of daily living with anyone who would hear. "We're here for a good time," he'd tell me. "Not for a long time." As a matter of fact, he shared his opinions on a bunch of things with anyone who would take the time to listen. I remember him telling me about what he thought the problem with the modern church was. "Unbelief." He'd shake his head. "Unbelief, pure and simple." Religious people, he shared with me, were more concerned with the right way to do things (and whether everyone else was doing it right) than they were about enjoying the life they had and the relationship with God that they had. 

Over the last six months, he had not been coming to church because he was physically unable to get out. And this morning, as we were worshiping, his wife, mother-in-law, niece and nephew gathered around his bedside in the hospital as he quietly slipped into the presence of the Master. 

He truly found out, as former Imperials singer Jake Hess sang, "Death ain't no big deal." The "big deal" awaited him as he made his entrance this morning.

I'm sure they had a great big rotisserie bar-b-que (with all the utensils) waiting for him when he got through the gates of Heaven, and a big ol' apron with "Kiss the Cook" written all over it. I can't imagine anything he'd like more to keep him busy until his bride arrives.

Life will never be the same.
For him  ...  or for those left behind - those who love him.

Level, Square and True

My husband is building a small shed to house the lawn tractor and a few other, smaller tools.  He's designed it himself, taken his time and carefully laid out the foundation, and invested a lot of energy especially in those first stages of making sure that everything was level and square.  He tested and retested those concrete blocks and the beams he placed on them with his level (okay, can't resist a joke: you know a guy's on the level if his bubble's in the middle), and made minor adjustments in the depth the concrete went into the earth, before ever he screwed in the first screw to the wood. 

It might seem like a lot of trouble to go to, but that extra time and effort is going to be well worth it.  The building will be more sturdy, more reliable, and more long-lasting.  It will withstand everything that the north wind and the snow and ice will throw at it in the winter, and it will protect its contents from the rain during the rest of the year. 

Here's the link where I got this photo

Starting from a level foundation and making sure that all the parts are square - that is, perpendicular to each other and fitting the way they're supposed to fit - will only enhance the function of the shed and turn it into an asset rather than a liability.  

The process is a visual reminder of how to build a life.  Make sure the foundation is level, spend extra time, as much as you need to.  Use tools to measure and be certain that the foundation is square because you'll be building on it - if the foundation is wrong, the whole thing will be crooked.  Think about how it's going to be, plan your escape route (the door) and a way to see out (the window). Frame it out and make sure THAT is square and true. 

"True" is hard to explain - carpenters understand the term. It means that the integrity of the structure is right, that the corners are not just square (that is, coming to a 90 degree angle) but that the framing is in a straight line all the way along, and that both the framing and fitted corners, put together, will support the roof and the walls as a result. 

Plainly put, the building process is a metaphor of life and the foundation in particular, is one of relationship with God - it's the foundation for living life as it really is.  Life needs to be grounded on something that is going to stand the test of time... and relationship with God is that something.  The floor and the framing are relationship with the self.  Nothing external can hang on those for very long unless the framing is True.  Self-care, setting boundaries, letting go of the need to control or look after others to the exclusion of the self - these are good structure for what will eventually be what everyone else sees: relationships with others (the walls).  Top that off with healthy boundaries between self and others (the roof).  That keeps the floor and the framing from getting soggy and rotten (grin) and keeps the tools from rusting.

The analogy is rather loose; I only just thought of this one tonight as I heard my hubby talk about his project.   But I believe that it has merit.  

Happy building. 

Ring of Power

I've been struggling the past while with control issues... mostly attempts of others to control me - but also the feeling of powerlessness, frustration, and anger that results within me when others try to manipulate or control me or someone I care about.  

Most frustrating is the knowledge that as much as I want it to happen, the growth and the freedom that has happened within me (as limited as it might be) is not something I can impart or impose on anyone else.  Each person has to come to his or her own personal "bottom" and really WANT to be free, before that kind of change can occur.  

Source (via Google Images):
http://shirleytwofeathers.blogspot.com/2011/12/its-not-my-fault.html

I find great symbolism in the story of Frodo and the One Ring.  It was forged by Sauron - whose name, in one of the fictitious Middle Earth languages, means "terrible."  He  created it so as to control all other domains of influence. Some refer to it as "the Ring of Power." 

It's the Self.


It's all about control.

The quest to control others, to control outcomes, to use any means necessary to bend people and circumstances to our will ... this is its seductive grip.  Some people live their whole lives enslaved by it.  Frodo, in LOTR (Lord of the Rings) falls into possession of the Ring and is given the quest to take it to a specific spot and destroy it, to break Sauron's evil power.  He is warned that the Ring is seductive, that it will try to gain control over him and get him to wear it, so that he will be compelled to take it back to its evil and ruthless creator.  During the entire trilogy, Frodo battles with his own insides as this powerful call becomes stronger and stronger, the closer he gets to the fires of Orodruin - its forging-place and therefore the only place it can be destroyed. The Ring has already driven poor Smeagol (a.k.a. Gollum) insane: his only desire is to touch his "precious", to own its power once again.  

The call is that strong. Some - like Gollum - never escape it.  Even Frodo - with his fellowship helping him through the entire journey - comes to the brink of yielding to its pull on his soul at the end of his quest.  

Tolkien's classic tale is what one of my favorite authors, John Eldredge, would call "mythic" - in that it tells the age-old story of humankind and teaches three lessons:  
(1) We are born into a war, an epic struggle between good and evil which rages, unseen, all around us, 
(2) Things are not what they appear, and 
(3) Each of us has a key role to play - whether for good or for evil.  

The path of freedom may take us through many dangers, some of our own making, and some ... not.  

Which brings me to my struggle of late.  The relentless whisper of Self calls to me and tries to seduce me into seizing control by any means necessary.  If not overt in nature, it will use the attempts of others who have believed its lies and who have become enslaved to it, in order to distract me from my quest to be free of its bondage in my life. These others see nothing wrong with their pursuit of power, of control.  Even lies (which include lies of omission) are justified.  The deception is fierce and the stakes are high.  The Self will try to delude me into thinking I am helping these other people by playing along with them, by associating with them and coming alongside of them in their own poison prison. What that does is that it infects me with their malaise.  It does not help them; it hinders me.  The Self (that Ring of Power) will try to convince me - failing the compromise route - that it is my job to confront and expose the error of their choices.  All this does is embroil me in the same slavish soup in which they themselves are cooking. They must travel their own road.  I cannot travel it for them.

The only way for me is to heed the Quest.  To pay attention to my own journey, not to theirs.  To accept that their path is their path, and mine is mine.  I cannot add the call of their Self to the call of my Self.  It would be too much for me and I would fail.  

I can only put one foot in front of the other, and remember why I am here.

Merciful goodness!

I'm recovering from a cold that I caught yesterday when I was at the walk-in clinic.  I was fine when I was there - now I caught this little kid's cold who was in the waiting room with me, across the room from me, even. Ugh.

Be that as it may, I'm not writing to vent about doctor's offices, or little kids, or any of that.  I'm writing to express my gratitude. 

For the last several months, my husband and I have been watching this little quarter-inch sore on his arm refuse to heal - I'll spare you the details but bodies are supposed to heal and this thing didn't behave ... normally.  Over time it gradually got a little bigger until it measured almost a third of an inch across and was puffed out.  Anyhow - yesterday morning he finally went to get it seen.  I just so happened to have the day off (planned two weeks ago so no, yesterday's doctor's visit wasn't planned by me; it just was what it was. )

After his name was called, I decided to go in with him because I was there, and I was curious.  And I was also a little scared because I knew something was amiss.  The doctor confirmed my niggling little fears - it was indeed basal cell carcinoma - and she was quick to point out (seeing the look on my face, no doubt) that this is the harmless kind of cancer. All that would be required was its excision at the hands of a plastic surgeon.  

She made the referral to a good plastic surgeon, and today his receptionist called and booked a date for April to have it seen to. Just like that. 

Found this photo (through Google Images) at:
http://radical-church-history.blogspot.com/
2011/10/lost-art-of-gratitude.html

After checking with a friend in the know, I've come to understand that all of these carcinomas are sent to the lab to be analyzed after they are removed; this is quite a relief.  

All the research we've done since the diagnosis shows that 98% of these cancers are localized and benign - and that of those that are malignant, there is an extremely good recovery rate.  The doctor did check his back for more spots - there were none - and said that if ever he had a 'friend' that hung around longer than it should without getting better, it would be best to have it checked - a mild rebuke for waiting so long in the first place.  Yet she didn't seem too awfully concerned about it, which gave us the message again that it wasn't of the "oh my goodness it's cancer!" variety.

When I think of what this MIGHT have been, though - it makes me extremely grateful for the mercy of God.  It reminds me that life is so very short, and that every day is precious, and that especially so are the people in our lives.  I find myself taking little moments aside to just thank God - no agendas, no manipulation, just pure gratitude.  I thank God for being merciful to us. For showing His goodness to us.  For taking pity on us.  I also am thanking Him for the wonderful gift He gave me: the gift of this my best friend in life -- my very loving, very thoughtful, yet very ... human ... husband -- and being all the more determined to enjoy every moment with him.

Thank You again, God.

Phostered Phonies

The culture we live in discourages certain behaviors and encourages others based on what it thinks and / or believes is important.  It's not just endemic to one particular subculture or social group, it's pandemic across our entire culture to treat certain actions as laudable and others as lousy - and some of them literally make no sense to me.  To my way of thinking, some actions that are commonly praised need to be exposed and deplored; some which are discouraged need to be re-examined and considered carefully as models upon which to base our interactions with each other. 

In today's culture, for example, in response to a simple question, "How are you?" the answer "Great!" is encouraged - even if you're dying inside.  The answer "Lousy," though honest (which is the goal, right?) is criticized as undesirable, a "downer." Or in the church setting, "not speaking in faith." Even the response, "Okay," is suspect.  ("Just okay?  You should be joyful! deliriously happy! Great!") So I've started to compile a list of some of the more commonly accepted / condoned practices, those ones which foster dysfunctional relationships, phoniness, and judgment, and which reject healthy relationships, honesty, and acceptance.  

1. Segregation.  Oops, I mean mens' (or ladies') groups and/or getaways.  Church is notorious for these. While paying lip service to marriage and family, these groups /events can foster the exact thing that they claim they are trying to avoid.  "Spend more time paying attention to your wives, men. And to help you do that, we're going to get you to leave them at home for three days straight while you hang out with each other and 'bond.' Yeah, golf to your heart's content, spend the family finances on a hotel bill and green fees, and don't be there with your wives and families the only time in the week that you get to spend with them."  Same thing with ladies' groups - also known as women's retreats.  "Okay, ladies... here's how to save your marriages. Rob your men of the joy of sleeping in with you on the one day they can do so per week, so you can go grouse about them behind their backs with a bunch of girls, get fifty-dollar facials ... and play slumber party."   I just don't get it. Then again, I've never been big on girly-girl stuff.  But I digress.  I'd prefer to see "couple's retreats" or "family retreats." Wouldn't that be radical.
   
   
2. Manipulation.  Oh, come on. This is HUGE!!  Everything from "come to the social gathering, there'll be free food" to "oh, he won't mind. All I gotta do is look at him and bat my eyes and say 'please' with a little pout.  He'll come around" to the classic guilt trip mothers give about all those hours of labour and how the child somehow "owes" them for that. It's everywhere!! Control the other guy through manipulation.  Or intimidation.  (Such as implying that someone is not a good wife/mother/husband/father/son/daughter/friend if that person doesn't do a specific action that is all the rage, like oh, I dunno, go to church every time the doors are open, or watching a certain movie that "everyone" is watching). 
   
   
3. Sexism.  Yes, you heard me!! I hear it all the time.  "All men are lazy messy pigs."   (Uh, no they're not.) Or "All blonde [or pretty] women are dumb."  (uh, beg pardon, but ... NO.)  And the most intricate of mental yoga moves (i.e., twisting the mind into a pretzel shape) to account for the many MANY exceptions to whatever sexist rule we hear and believe (really? after all this time?)  ....one of those pretzel moves I heard recently was the "80/20 rule."  I couldn't believe my ears.  That is (giving the example of men and untidiness) 80% of men are slobs and 20% are not, whereas 80% of women are neat freaks and 20% aren't.  Hm.  It doesn't wash with me.  I happen to believe that people are people - - you know, human beings.  Gender - or should I say hormone level - does determine a tendency to do certain things.  But to justify your need to grouse about the opposite gender just because your own life sucks or because you consider your own gender to be superior to the other - is kind of a giant step backward, no matter what gender you are.
   
   



Source (via Google Images):
http://vi.sualize.us/view/8c5074cff0e59aa428a3fc85cebd1c7d/
(classic manipulation through guilt)

4. Bullying. Oh, I'm not talking about the classic bullying that is so much the topic of news stories and so forth.  The kind I mean can take several forms: minimizing another's accomplishments by finding fault with them (how about stopping a conversation or reducing it to a whisper with sidelong glances when that someone comes in the room?) or even the socially acceptable practice known as "practical jokes."  (These, in my opinion, are neither funny nor practical, and if continued, can cause someone to seriously consider the ultimate escape from life.) I see it happen in all spheres of life - work, church, school, other social groups - and in every case it is seen as, "Well, that's just so-and-so.  He's/ she's harmless."  Tell that to every teen who has considered purchasing a one-way ticket to the Other Side because they never get a break from it - and they don't foresee it stopping when they graduate. Or go into the workforce. 
   
   
5. Fatalism.  The "I can't help it, it's just me" mentality can be not only defeatist, but it can be used as an excuse for inexcusable behavior.  Just saying.
   
   
   The truth is, of course, that not one person can change him or herself.  Only God can change the heart. The choice then becomes, am I willing to give it to God and give Him carte blanche to change me in this or that area? 
   
   
   If we are serious about developing relationship with God, perhaps it's time to revisit some of these areas in our own lives.  I've given my opinion on them to spark thought and reflection.  You don't have to agree with my take on things; that's not important - but if I've caused someone to pause and rethink the way he or she thinks and acts, then perhaps this post has been worth the risk.

Roll Call

John.         Here.
Andrew.     Here.
Marcy.       Here.
Brenda.     Here.
Linda.       Present.
Bruce.       Here.

This was a scene repeated so many times in my childhood in various school years that the names run together ... but the answer was always the same.  Either "here" or "present".  

There's a hint in that little scene.  A reminder that in order to learn in life, we must be in the moment - we must be here.  

Too many times I've gone round and round in the past.  There's been no escape; it's like I was trapped there.  I do believe that the past is useful to visit when it's done with the purpose of healing - or of reminding ourselves of the blessings we have known so as to encourage ourselves to keep believing, keep hoping.  But living there, wallowing in our pasts, leaves us sad, bitter, estranged from or entangled within our roots.  Either way, we cannot be present in the now.  Our energy is all tied up in what has already happened, what might have happened if we (or others) had only done things differently.  Emotionally and physically, we tire easily. So it was with me.  I held deep resentments against those who had injured me, nursed each new wound and compounded it upon the old.  I berated myself for not living up to my own expectations.  It sapped my strength.  

There've also been times when I feared the future: feared it so much that I would sleep poorly (if at all), fret and stew about things that might happen (most of which never did), and try to influence or manipulate the circumstances or the people involved in my own future so much that I would end up creating the very thing I feared.  It robbed me of many moments I could have enjoyed.  It stole away the present... so that I wasn't here for it.  I was in tomorrow.  Next week. Next month. 

In the last 3 years I have been learning to exist in the here.  In the present.  In the now. The struggle is never-ending: it is difficult to accept what has been, what is.  To not try to change what will be.  When I do live in the now, though, the weight of the backpack of yesterday and the chains of tomorrow drops from me like Pilgrim's pack when he gets to the cross.  I am freed to spend my energy in things that matter, right now.  Enjoying the moment, now.  Helping the person who is in front of me, now.  Hearing the still, small whisper of the divine, now.  Breathing the rarefied air in the presence of God, now.  Worshiping Him, now.  Not ten years ago.  Not next Sunday.  NOW.

If I carry anything with me into the new year, I wish for it to be this.  That when I am called upon, that whenever and wherever God will speak to me and give me that inner nudge - I will be "present."

Centering

I've been reading a book I got for Christmas - "Hungry for God" by Margaret Feinberg. I started reading in fear and trembling because so many books on getting to know God are so incredibly NOT about getting to know Him but getting to know more ABOUT Him.  Knowledge I have.  What I lack is experience.  

Anyway, this book didn't turn out to be as I feared.  It talks about the mundane things of our lives and how God uses them to reveal Himself to us through them.  If we listen.  

One analogy she uses in her book - one which is not original to her of course - is the one about the clay and the potter.  But she happens to mention the part that is so easily overlooked about creating a piece of pottery.  It's the first part - the part a potter calls 'centering'.  

Source (via Google Images):
http://pottery.about.com/od/centeringonthewheel/
ss/centering_2.htm

The potter doesn't just plunk down the clay and start to make a pot or a vase right away.  The first part after smacking it down on the wheel, is holding the clay in a lump as the wheel turns beneath it, squeezing it toward the middle of the wheel, making sure it is perfectly in the inner circle of the wheel, even before the clay has an inside part. The potter keeps adding water, squeezes some more, and shifts the clay on the wheel until it seems to be standing still even though the wheel is still spinning.  This is to make the clay pliable and to prevent disaster later on from the creation being off-center.  

And yet the pot cannot hold anything yet because it doesn't have an opening.  Any water poured onto it would just slide off.  The potter wants to make sure that the clay is where it needs to be, first and foremost. He tests it by squishing it down with the heel of his hand. Then squeezing it toward the middle so that it's tall. Then down again. Then up.  The clay - if it could think - might wonder what in the world was becoming of it.  Yet all this time it is being shaped, and its goodness is being slimed all over the potter's fingers, sinking into his pores, under his nails.  The potter is inexorably connected to and involved in his creation. 

Only then, only after the clay is perfectly centered and pliable, is it ready to be "opened" - the potter squishes the lump again, the clay's outside becomes the general shape that was intended, and then the thumb starts pressing down in the very center of the lump - "opening" the clay and creating an inside that will make the piece usable. 

There are quite a few steps involved in pottery, but the one that stood out for me is the centering.  Again I stress that as the clay in this analogy, we cannot be 'opened' until we are 'centered.'  And it's all God's work including adding water (which symbolizes His divine presence being infused into us); He is the one who does it, we are only available to Him.  He works a work on the wheel of our lives (which HE set in motion) and it is HIS choice how long that takes or what shape will eventually be produced.  

It's messy. It's uncomfortable sometimes. There's a lot of pressure.  It takes a long time.  And it's necessary.  

Totally.

Song in the Night

"All Your breakers and Your waves have rolled over me." - Ps. 42:7

That's what fear - that's what panic - that's what depression - looks like.  It's overwhelming, suffocating, destructive.  

King David struggled with these feelings on a regular basis.  He spent a lot of his youth running from the wrath of a royal madman obsessed with not losing his kingdom - to the point of living in caves even.  Even after he came to power, there were times when his life was horrible.  One of his sons raped his daughter, another killed the son who did it, and a third son tried to lead a coup take his kingdom away from him by force.  Talk about stress!  

Photo (via Google Images) :
http://allworldbest.blogspot.com/2011/12/ocean-waves.html

Read any of the psalms written by him (some weren't) and they will usually talk about the tumult he experienced inside.  Most were prayers.  Of those, most started out with some version of "God? Where ARE You??"  Then a whole litany of complaints - David didn't hold anything back. No "speaking in faith" for him! at least, not the way that folks today think of it. He was honest.  Brutally honest! Near the end, though, he would usually speak to his soul and tell it to remember God's goodness, to remember all the wonderful things He'd done for His people, to take heart from this, to remember to be grateful and to praise Him.  Over and over again we can see him struggling to believe in what were sometimes horrific circumstances - betrayal, loneliness, despondency, and waiting for God to do something when it seemed like the heavens were made of bronze. 

I quoted Psalm 42:7 at the beginning of this post.  Verse 8 says this:  "The Lord will command His lovingkindness in the daytime - and in the night His song will be with me, a prayer to the God of my life." The "song in the night" has come to me so many times as I have wrestled with God in the wee hours of the morning, wondering why this or that situation had to happen, whether things will ever be better, if I'll ever see the light of day in my heart again.  Everyone has times like that.  The "song" might have minor chords in it - at first - it's okay. The important thing, I believe, is to lift up whatever thoughts I have to God.  No matter what they are.  The important thing is that I talk to Him.  Even if I doubt.

David goes on to say that he would continue to be honest with God, to ask Him why He has forsaken him - and then after this outburst of emotion, he begins to ask himself why he is so disquieted.  He encourages himself to hope, to trust, to rest in God.  

The rest can't come for me unless and until I am honest with Him.  When my heart is heavy with grief or fear or depression, the singing isn't possible until the fists go into the pillow, until the shoulders heave with sobs, and the knowledge comes - usually afterward - that even at those times, He is holding me and letting me be who I am, feel what I feel, and that loves me in spite of it all.  

That kind of song is worth more than all the ones borne of denial and duty.  It is the song of Love.  

Winding down

When I was a child, perhaps about 10 years old, my family used to go and visit my mother's uncle who lived about two and a half hours' drive from us.  Aunt Sue was probably my favorite aunt.  She and Uncle Ernie lived in a quaint little house that reminded me of a doll-house.  The pantry-style kitchen spilled out into a parlor, and I spent my time in the large living room where they made up a bed at night on the sofa.  In that living room there was a clock - one of those old mantle clocks that chimed, and you had to wind up the chimes when you wound up the clock.  It would chime on the quarter hour, half hour, three-quarter hour and the hour.  

I loved it.  There was something comforting about knowing that every fifteen minutes this thing would just keep reminding us that time would pass at the same speed whether we thought it did or not.  

I could hear it ticking faithfully in the night as well, a soothing reminder that I was not alone.  Others in my family thought it quite annoying.  They weren't used to the sound it made, it woke them up.  That was part of its charm for me as a child who was terrified of the dark - it gave me something to focus on, something that was constant and reliable.  

Every so often the movement would slow down, the chimes would become lazy, and the clock would lose time. It would "wind down." Sometimes the ticking would hesitate - a sure sign of loosened springs on the inside.  So it wasn't long before Aunt Sue would get out the key and wind the clockworks up again.  She'd have to do that first, and then slowly move the minute hand forward, stopping at the 15, 30, 45 and hour positions to allow the clock to chime and keep track of where in the cycle it was.  It was such fun to observe her doing this - a little woman not much taller than I was at 10 years old - and so intent on keeping this valuable machine in good shape, crucial in the days well before cell phones were even invented, much less pick up the correct time from a satellite during or after a power outage.  

I guess I started thinking about this as I pondered the tendency I have to "coast" sometimes in my recovery and in my daily relationships with God, myself and others.  When I start to coast like that, I become less reliable, more likely to mislead myself or others into a false sense of security.  It feels "loose" inside.  My reactions start to hesitate - I become unsure, insecure, obsessive.  I wind down in my motivation to maintain those crucial relationships.  

So that is when I need to take out the Key of prayer, meditation and self-examination and tighten up the primary relationship (with God) and the secondary one (with myself).  Then it's easy to wind up the third relationship (with others) and before long I'm "keeping time" .... and the hesitation, the insecurity, and the obsession are all gone.

Serenity - Courage - Wisdom ... part three

"God grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, and Wisdom to know the difference." 

I was reading in a daily devotional book this morning; the topic was on watching where you go - something about paying attention to your path.  But it was a verse shortly before that which caught my attention most.  It also happens to be one of my favorite ones in this healing process I call 'recovery' - which is simply another word for 'restored sanity'.  It said, "Above all, guard your heart, for out of it flow the well-springs of life." (Proverbs 4:23)   

(I think I've said before that) I used to think this meant that my heart had to be watched like a hawk, because it couldn't be trusted as far as I could throw a Mack truck.  But it doesn't mean that at all.  It means that my most important relationships are the ones I have with God and with myself (both out of which flow my relationships with others).  It means that only in right relationship with God and with myself (and it is essential to have a nurturing relationship with oneself) can those daily paths be attended to, the ones Solomon told his son to pay attention to.  

"The Creation of Man" detail (God's hand is on the right, man's
on the left) - Michelangelo, Sistine Chapel ceiling 
Source of the image above:
http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/rayortlund/2011/03/28/
depending-solely-on-god/

It boils right down to this.  Wisdom to know the difference between the things I can't change and the things I can ... has only come for me with a dedicated focus on my relationship with God, and a commitment to know myself as I truly am, not as others have painted me.  

It's in daily dependence on God.  I believe that this is the only "dependency relationship" that is healthy because it is the only one humans were created for.  The more time I spend with Him, the more grateful I am for His presence. The more I value His opinion and am aware of how much He loves me, the more I want to honour Him in all things. The more I depend on Him, the better I'm able to see what's true, right, and honest, and when I'm just deceiving myself.

He lets me know He is there.  Sometimes in the smallest of ways.  But when I am living in a "God-conscious" state of mind, nearly everything reminds me of His presence, His power to transform, His love.  He even reminds me to take care of myself when I need to do that (and of course, part of that self-care involves keeping my contact with Him close).  When I don't, there's a nameless feeling of uneasiness that creeps in, and sometimes it takes several hours, days, even weeks to pinpoint.  

Sometimes I even have had to be told by caring and loving friends that I am not "myself" lately.  (That's still a new experience for me, because up until a couple of years ago I didn't even know who "myself" was!!)  At such times I look first to that vertical plumb-line and see, yes, it's been shifted off centre and I need to be still and let Him come to the middle - my middle - the centre of who I am.  The less I do (in the sense of frantically trying to please Him with what I do) and the more I allow myself to be (that is, resting in His love, His grace, His power) the more 'opportunities' open up for me to share what He has done in me, and communicate that (or even a part of that) to someone who asks. 

Which reminds me.  I've discovered, in my Christian faith, that if I am not BEing, I might as well not DO anything because it will backfire. Every time. When I am living in daily and intimate relationship with God, it shows in my attitudes toward work, family, friends, leisure, ... everything.  He fills me up with an awareness of Him being with me - and in me.  Out of that automatically flows opportunities to be there, to be a friend, to be a conduit of healing and mercy to the most unexpected (and unexpecting!) of recipients - and for that I can't take one bit of credit.  Nor would I try.

God sets it up, He orchestrates the whole thing, and I'm simply left in awe of how He does it...  I'm just glad to occasionally be there when He does.

Tell 'em again

I heard an old joke once that made me think, and then think some more.  

A couple who had been married for 25 years was watching a romantic scene on television when the wife became troubled.  

"What's wrong?" asked her husband.  

"You never tell me that you love me."  

"Well ... when I married you 25 years ago, did I tell you I loved you then?"  

"Of course you did."

"So... if I change my mind, I'll let you know."

A long time ago, we decided that we wouldn't be like that couple.  That we would tell each other - frequently - that we loved each other.  Tell ... and show.  Not with big expensive gifts or hiring violinists or a mariachi band to play at our table (apologies to musicians of all stripes for pairing those) but simply by reminding each other how precious each is to the other.  Because - let's face it - we forget.  Life happens, it gets in the way, and we forget.

Now that both of us are in recovery, and on this road of healing together, the assurances of love mean even more.  We have made special efforts to connect with each other so that someday, when the kids are living lives out there independent from us, we won't wonder who that person is across the breakfast table from us.  It will just keep getting better because it's been getting better ever since we first fell in love over 30 years ago.  If that sounds sappy, then I have only one thing to say :  GOOD.  Life here on earth is so very short, and it goes faster and faster as we get closer to the end.  Seizing the day is essential.  It doesn't matter if we told each other we loved each other yesterday.  We say it, and mean it, again today.  And all the todays.

One comedian said that he'd been told the secret to happiness in marriage.  He got it from his dad just before he got married, and it rescued a lot of situations for him where he was undecided as to what to do.  

Four words, said as the father gazed into his son's eyes.  

"Happy wife, happy life."  

Of course that's only half of the equation.  (Hint hint ladies.)  Seeking the happiness and pleasure of the other person, telling and showing love.  Simple, isn't it.  

So even if they've heard it before ... tell 'em again.

Talk to the hand

Once in a while I feel a "preach" comin' on - that is, I become empassioned about a particular doctrinal or theological topic.  This time - as it usually is - it's about the tendency we all have to feel like we have control over our own destinies.  Even (and I would argue especially) Christians.   The truth is, we don't. 

I grew up in the Baptist church.  There, the pastor would use mnemonics when he spoke.  All the sermon points started with the same letter.  Or the first letters spelled something. Or it was a mathematical equation.   So, just in case you want or need a formula to remember, here's one. 

Two, in fact. 
(1) Jesus plus "X" (where "X" is greater than zero) equals religion equals death. 

(2) Jesus plus zero equals relationship equals life.

I'm an abuse survivor.  I recognize abuse when it happens to me or to anyone; it's one of those things where I have a hair-trigger sensor built-in.  And I recognize that "religious abuse" happens a lot in Christian circles especially in this business of "not doing enough."  Christians are so bound up in feeling worthless and ashamed of never measuring up that we don't realize that it's not about doing.  It's about being.

I haven't learned as much as I want to learn about how to really live life, especially how to live life the way Jesus described : you know, loving, full of joy and self-sacrifice, people being touched and healed wherever I go, yada yada yada.  All I know is that the harder I've tried to live the way I'm "supposed to" (see last summer's series on Shoulds and Oughtas) even if my intentions are the absolute best, I've eventually fallen flat on my face and driven people away from the message of Jesus and not attracted them in the least.  And believe me I have tried to live the Christian life - for years. Decades, as a matter of fact. What an exercise in masochism!! Lots of altar calls, countless sessions of private devotions and Bible studies. Praying until I ran out of words.  Singing until I was hoarse.  And again and again I have failed.

It's impossible.  And let me let you in on a secret:  It's SUPPOSED to be impossible.  If it wasn't, we could boast that we did it on our own.  If it wasn't impossible to live an abundant life - we wouldn't need grace.  And we SO need grace. 

The power of grace is so amazing.  Grace is God's undeserved favour, yes - but it is also His undeserved strength to live day by day.  Neither kind of grace is earned by anything we do; it is freely offered by God without hesitation and must be received just as freely without reservation.  The more we realize (really truly realize, not just give mental assent) that we can't do it on our own, the more whole-heartedly grateful we are for the grace and strength to live fully day by day.  Out of that gratitude flow good works - except they aren't done because we're guilted or coerced into it - they're done as a natural outflow of our realization of how wonderful, gracious, and merciful He is.

I'm reminded of something Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount about Judgement Day (Matthew 7).  He said to the people, "Many will say to Me in that day, 'Lord, Lord, didn't we prophesy in Your name, cast out demons in Your name and perform many miracles in Your name?' and then I will say to them, 'I never knew you.  Depart from Me, you who work lawlessness.' "

Wow.  They're listing all the impressive things they've done for Him and it's like He's saying, "Talk to the hand." (Translation of "Talk to the hand" for those who've never heard the expression: "I don't even want to hear it.")  

Why?

Because what we DO for God doesn't matter to Him one hill of beans.  He can do anything - He does miracles whether someone prays over someone else or not, whether the sick person believes or not. Or even if anybody in the family or friends even believes in Him at all.  Yes.  Yes He does.  HE is the initiator.

What matters to Him - and here I won't say "what matters to Him most" because to Him it is ALL that matters - is this:  whether He knows us.

Well of course He knows us, you say.  Uh-huh.  That's true.  So what was Jesus talking about by "I never knew you"?  Okay, here's a little light shed on that.  Think INTIMACY.  

He wants to know us intimately.

Whoa.  Back up the truck.

Well, if I must be blunt, I must. It's all about the heart: the heart is the seat of the will and the emotions. He is seeking spiritual intimacy with us - an ever-increasing mutual relationship of being known and knowing.  

Spiritual intimacy parallels physical intimacy.  In essence, it is that we open our entire being to Him and LET Him know us - LET Him penetrate into those areas of our spirits that are the most vulnerable, the most tender, the most secret, the most wounded.  We LET Him fully know us.  

We are ourselves with Him. We get close.  On purpose. We don't put on airs or try to impress Him (He sees through that in a nanosecond!)  We don't need to add anything to what He has already done for us - we just enjoy it - let Him take us, ravish our spirits, speak tenderness and passion to our hearts.  We embrace that.  We long for it.  And when it happens, we can't help but be affected - to return that love and passion.  We don't have to work it up or grunt and strain to produce it.  It just comes as a natural byproduct of being known more and more intimately by Him.  That is the miracle of it.  There is where the transformation happens.

Instead of talking to the hand later, after a lifetime of missing the whole point, I'd rather talk with Him face to face now.

Squeaky Clean

I went to see the dental hygienist today.  I see her every 6 months and I always ask for this particular one, because she is more gentle than any hygienist I have ever had...and I've had a few.

Even if I am meticulous about keeping my teeth clean and flossed, I need to go to have my teeth cleaned, looked at from every angle and scraped of caked-on plaque that I can't seem to reach.  I trust this person to do this on a regular basis because not only is my hygienist gentle, she can see exactly where the problem spots are and she will keep at the task until all that extra stuff is gone. She also gives me tips on how to access those problem areas for myself (if I am serious about reducing my time in the chair!!)  And I know that if I forget, or if I'm not as uhhhh, diligent at times - she will faithfully keep on getting what I can't reach.

Part of working a 12-step program is taking a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.  

I've heard people say that a person only needs to take one moral inventory in his or her life and then just maintain on a daily basis afterward.  That might be true, but sometimes I've found that a periodic face-to-face visit with my spiritual hygienist is necessary to get the caked-on spiritual grunge that I can't seem to be able to see.  My own meager efforts to keep in fit spiritual condition are okay, but they fall short; my blind spots creep up on me and I am in need of that big Light in my face and Another's loving scrutiny.  

I am so grateful that the Light of the world also loves me just as I am ... and too much to let me stagnate that way.  It's an ever-changing, ever-increasing-in-intimacy, ever-challenging relationship.

It might be intense at times - but growth into a deeper relationship with Him is why I keep coming back.

There are no words

Sometimes, I'm at a loss for words.

At times it's because I'm so overwhelmed by emotion that the power of speech is short-circuited.  Those are the times of heights of joy or of grief, of wonder or of shock.  Words are impossible.

There are occasions when I disappear and am swallowed up in something far greater than I could ever dream of being or witnessing.  Words are superfluous.  In the face of the grandeur of creation, in the atmosphere of pure worship of the Creator - I've been known to be struck dumb.  No words could make it any better than what it already is.

And other times, it's like I've said all I can say to a person (either someone who is hurting or someone who's hurting me) and there's nothing more to say.  I know that there is probably something I SHOULD say but for the life of me I cannot think of a thing.

Sometimes I struggle with feelings of unearned guilt at being silent in that last situation.  It's not that I am uncomfortable with the absence of noise, it's just that I have a hard time not jumping in and either defending myself or trying to give advice.  Yet I know that people have the right to be who they are, to do what they choose to do, and to bear the consequences of their own decisions.  So the best choice for me is to stay silent.  There are no words that could make it better.  A hug, yes.  And in some cases, walking away is the best response.  But words?  sometimes they just get in the way.

I could get used to this

A funny thing happened to me on the way to work today.
I almost didn't get there.

My hubby was finished dropping our daughter off at school and then got into the wrong lane to keep going to my workplace.  I said, 'uhhh, honey?' and he realized he was going to his next stop (errand-wise) ... he would have forgotten to drop me off!!  Truth be told, I wouldn't have minded.

Even with all the weirdness in the last few days, I've so enjoyed being with my hubby that the old saying, "I could get used to this" really applies.

We usually say it to each other when the sun is warm, the breeze is just right, and we're just drinking in the beauty of the day.  But I think it also applies to the opportunity to spend unbroken, quality time with each other.  

Relationships take work.  They take time.  Little things done with each other, little kindnesses shown to each other, special experiences shared, hugs, prayers, too-often-untold truths told in loving ways.  It's the way ALL relationships develop - with others, our selves, and God.  

The payoff of spending time and making room for that person, whoever he/she may be - is far more than could ever be appreciated or enjoyed by one person. Or two.

But it's fun trying.

Quit that!

When I was about 8 years old or so, before I learned to ride a bike (which happened when I was 11) I would often get tired on outings with my older brothers.  When that happened, one of them would offer to take me home on the crossbar of his bike.  I'd sit side-saddle on the bar that went between the seat and the handlebars, and hold onto either side of the centre of the handlebars.  People did that all the time when I was a child.  We didn't wear helmets either.  It was a simpler time - and that is a whole other blog post for another time.

Anyway, we would not have gone very far before my brother, taller than I was, would lean forward and say fiercely into my ear, "Quit that!"

"Quit what?" I'd say.

"Quit steering!"

"I'm NOT steering!"

"Yes, you are, you're turning the handlebars."

"OH."  

And I would try very hard to stop steering.  I really would... but before long he would say, "You're doing it again.  Quit that!"

And I'd reply, "I tried, it's hard."

And he'd sigh in frustration and say, "Let ME steer.  Do you want us both to wind up in the ditch?  You're making it hard for me to balance and keep us from falling over!"


I knew he was right.  And as I thought about this memory this morning, I realized that my wanting to steer had less to do with wanting to be in charge of the bike and more to do with my fear of falling.  The very thing I feared became the thing that I put myself in danger of doing - and taking someone else with me at that.  The fear itself was also based on a basic, gut-level and instinctual desire for self-preservation.  

At the core of it, I did not trust the person who was in charge of the bike to keep me from falling.

What I really needed to do was trust, (not just say it but really do it) and then act on that trust by letting go.

It's that way with my relationships with God, with myself, and with others too.  The more I let go and trust that what needs to happen will happen, the less tense and fearful I am.  This kind of faith is based on the strength of the relationships in which I find myself.  Getting to know God, myself and other people is crucial to the level of trust I have in each.

So I hang around someone - anyone - to enjoy his or her company, not for what I can "get" out of the person.  That's not friendship, that's being a parasite, a "user".  I know because in my old world, that's usually what I did, for most of my life actually.  Rare were the friendships I had where I (or the other person) didn't have a hidden agenda, an ulterior motive.  

For many years, that is how I even treated God.  Like He was some sort of celestial vending machine.  I paid my tithe, I went to church, I didn't smoke, didn't chew and didn't associate with those that do - and in return I expected certain things from Him - answered prayer, financial blessing, health, you name it.  It doesn't work like that.  God is driving this bike.  He graciously offered me a ride to get me to where I hadn't the strength to go by myself, and I accepted.  He chooses where to go and when to turn, and my best course of action is to trust Him, let go and let Him steer. 

And forget about a relationship with myself; until recently, I didn't have one.  For one thing, I was told since I was very young that I wasn't to be trusted, that what I felt really wasn't what I felt, that what I had to contribute wasn't good enough, that nobody would want to hang around with me.  So I didn't bother getting to know that person because obviously she was a bad person.  But then God started me on this journey and I discovered that - underneath all the facades I put up to hide from myself - there was this amazing person under all those fears.  

Learning to like / love myself was one of the major keys to letting go of my need to control the outcome of my life, my circumstances, and my relationships.  It was a pre-requisite to having healthy relationships with others (ie., love your neighbour AS yourself), and really - having tasted this lifestyle, there is no way I would go back.

Making Face Time

One night, not long ago, I looked up from my computer and noticed that there were two other people in my family in the same room, each at his or her computer. At one point we were all on facebook.  At the same time.  Yet we spoke not a word to each other. 

Hm.

I seem to remember one morning being asked by my husband to find another spot for my computer because it stole time away from him that he wanted to spend with me. He looked forward to the times we would talk over breakfast, and when I was sitting there checking my emails, all he was able to get from me was a non-committal, "Hm?"


So I moved my preferred screened communication device to the living room. And now this.


Someone reminded me of this today by mentioning how the social media are rewriting our norms surrounding what is "sociable" and what isn't.  And I started to wonder whatever happened to "face time."  (No, not the software.)

One-on-one conversation.  Talking about important things.  Spending time just enjoying each others' company.  

I was wracking my brain last night trying to think of how to spend our 30th wedding anniversary, which is coming up in a couple of weeks or so.  I weighed the merits of this place versus that place, of this activity versus that.  And then it hit me.  We don't have to have an "activity" or a "retreat" to spend quality time together.  We just need to spend time with each other.  So, we decided to do just that - I will take a couple of vacation days surrounding our anniversary, and we can keep our daily commitments for driving our oldest to and from college, and in the meantime just spend time together without burying ourselves in electronic devices or wearing ourselves out with a jam-packed itinerary.  Reconnect.  Enjoy the other person's company.  Do things WE like to do.

It's a start.  :D

Awkward!

Okay - this is a rant.  Just sayin'.

I was just reading a fellow-blogger's post at "Daughter of Abba" and it really made me think.  She was talking about how she loves God but hates church.  I'm glad someone was honest enough to say how many of us church-goers feel.

My hat goes off to her.  (Among other things) she calls church members, pastors, and other people in leadership on:
 - favoritism
- hypocrisy
- elitism / cliques
- judgmental attitudes
- guilt trips
- exclusion

And she's right.  Church people are notorious for all of those things and more.  It's why the world looks at things like whassisname's prediction about the Rapture taking place on May 21, 2011 and (when that prediction failed) the world still going to end on October 21, 2011 ... and they laugh their heads off.  I don't blame them.  I would too, if it weren't so tragic.  Okay - so I laughed - for a while. 


The truth is, I always feel so awkward at church, and frankly, I've been embarrassed to admit to the people I work with that I go at all.  

I love God, and yet His people drive me nuts! ... majoring on minors, going off on this tangent or that one (okay, so I do that too), boycotting this or that, protesting something else, and all the while judging those who don't line up with their perfect version of how life should be lived.  (I think everyone knows how I feel about that word "should.")  Most of the time I feel like the rest of the cookie dough that gets tossed aside after someone cuts out the cookies.  I don't fit, and sometimes I feel discarded.  Judged.  Minimized.

I hate it when church people / leaders try to "legislate" friendliness, "dictate" love, "order" people to pray for each other - when these things naturally would flow out of intimate relationship with God.  I abhor the mistaken idea that WE have to do something first, before God will do His work.  Great way to take the credit and pat ourselves on the back for twisting His arm, manipulating Him. How ludicrous is that?  Friggit - God already took the initiative on everything by starting the ball rolling with Jesus - and He gets the glory for everything because even the faith and the strength to do what He wants comes from Him. He said He was the vine and we were the branches. So I don't move until and unless He says so.  Period.  It wastes far less energy that way... and if it means that others judge me for not doing enough - fine.  I live my life for an Audience of One.

Thank you, Daughter of Abba.  Thank you for your honesty.  

I got to - really?

Okay - brothers and sisters....

I've always been the type of person that when pressured into some sort of behavior just because I "have to" - no matter how good it is, whether it's exercising or even going to see a very popular movie of which everyone says, "Oh you have just GOT to see this!"  my first reaction inside is - "No.  No I don't." 

And the more I hear that injunction that I have to do it, the less I want to - even if I started out being curious about it or thinking I might MAYbe want to do it.

The "got to's" turn me off. Completely. Even more so lately than before. I guess it's because I've "been there, done that" and now anything that smacks of coercion absolutely repulses me.

Several years back, I read a book by Tommy Tenney called, "The God Chasers".  It's a very good book and I recommend it to Christians who are tired of "playing church".  But I recommend it with a warning.

As I was reading, I looked at the way this church in Dallas, Texas was changed - a group of people who experienced what can only be described as a supernatural flood of the presence of God - so tangible that for months, people in everyday situations, like waiting in grocery store lines, were deeply affected.  Miracles were commonplace when someone who had been touched by this presence was nearby anyone in hospitals, bank lineups, etc.  

Amazing.  

But I made the classic mistake.  I compared their experience to the way our church was - doing the "same old same old" again and again, expecting different results.  Talking about wanting God's presence but never experiencing Him in a life-changing, sustainable way.  And I got very, VERY frustrated with church, church programs, and church people.  Disillusioned.  Angry.  Bitter.

It took me several years and a whole lot of trying over and over and over to try to get people to read their Bibles more, pray more, do more - with nothing to show for it but more frustration because nobody seemed to be "getting it" - before I finally realized what I was doing.  I was trying to manipulate God - manipulate His people - and coerce either Him or them to "get with the program." I was trying to control others - and the fact was that I couldn't even control myself.  The truth was, as I came to understand, that relationship with God is not a "You gotta do this" thing.  

The truth is, I was (and am) completely incapable of living the kind of life that is happy, joyous and free ... on my own efforts.  That's the whole point of the Old Testament - to show us that no matter how much we want to or try to, we cannot follow all the rules; it is humanly impossible to sustain such an externally motivated lifestyle on our own. God invites us to a relationship.  Not a contract.

If my life as a Christian is all about "I got to" then I've missed the whole point and am to be pitied above all people - because "I got to" is a miserable existence filled with slavery to expectations and obligations.  I know - I was there.

Once it stopped being about what people were or were not doing, or what I was doing or not doing, and it became about what God has already done and freely offers - accepting that and being thankful for it - then it started being not so much about an effort to love others as it was an acceptance of His love for me.  It became less about obligation and more about gratitude.  It started being less of a drudge and more of a joy.  

The last thing I need - or anyone needs for that matter - is to feel lambasted by a whole lot of guilt and shame when we go to a place that is dedicated to the worship of God. That kind of stuff (I don't know, maybe some folks get off on that kind of thing) appears to me to be just an exercise in masochism.  It's times like that when I feel like I just want to walk out in disgust.  It appeals to every single control freak out there.  I know because it once appealed to me.  Until I realized that there is no way that I can control myself, other people, or outcomes.  Until I gave up trying to be perfect.

Rather than thinking that "I got to" do anything - how about if we turn it around, realize how much He loves us, and WANT to spend time with Him? Individually? No agendas, no expectation of temporal or eternal reward, no getting all crazed and hyped up. Just Him. Just us.  Just Him and us. In intimate, one-on-one connection.

Then "I got to" (i.e., religion) falls away and drops off.  It's replaced by an inside out thing (i.e., relationship) - and soon becomes an expression of something we look forward to and enjoy: "I get to."

Level and Plumb

I've been thinking a bit about building things (like houses, sheds, structures of some kind), how it is done, what the starting point is, what tools are needed, what the principles are.  It's pretty interesting how the tools we use today have changed so very little from those used in ancient times.

Two words are crucial to constructing anything.  (1) Level.  (2) Plumb.  

The builder has to determine what's perfectly flat. To do this, he uses a tool known as a level.  But the concept has been around for ages.  When the pyramids were built, they dug deep trenches in the sand, side by side like garden rows.  Then they poured water into the trenches and waited for the ripples to subside.  The mark the water made defined "level" and they built from that point upward, using what was level as a guide. 

They knew that digging down deep and putting water in these trenches, the water would seek the lowest place possible.  This would define the base of the pyramid.

The level for those seeking a life of fulfillment and purpose is a rather unlikely one but it parallels (no pun intended) the concept of seeking the lowest place.  It is the knowledge that no matter how hard we try, living life by trying to control all the variables just doesn't work.  It is the admission that on our own we cannot do anything of lasting value.  It is the concession that we are powerless to make life work.  Once that comes to us and we are still, that marks the point at which we can be ready for the next and equally crucial concept in this process.

Once the level (horizontal line) is known, a plumb line has to be dropped to determine what is absolutely at right angles with "level."  A plumb line is a string weighted at one end.  Plumb lines have looked very much the same since they were first invented, well prior to the Egyptian dynasties.  They usually come to a point and are balanced so that the point will be directly in line with the string.  Their purpose is to draw a vertical line from the base upward, as a guide in order to keep the building from getting lopsided (and therefore unstable).  

The way this is done is that the plumb line is dropped from above, and has to come to a complete standstill.  This takes time.  The weight at the bottom has to stop swinging, be perfectly still and not be touching any surface underneath that would influence the outcome.  This is the only way to determine if there is a perfectly vertical line.  

You don't just drop one plumb line and that's it.  Over and over again the plumb line comes out and the builder checks to see that everything is square.  At every new level, the plumb line not only shows which way is up, but the builder can determine whether the structure is "true" - that is, whether the horizontal lines at each stage are parallel to the level that was determined at the beginning, and whether each piece or wall is perpendicular to that, going straight up and down.

It doesn't matter if the building is ornate or not, or even if the walls and floor are made of sturdy materials (although that helps). But even with the strongest materials, it matters most if the structure is level and plumb.  If it isn't, it will eventually crumble.

We need to keep admitting and remembering that we are powerless over our own lives - this keeps us on the level - and that without God (our plumb line) we would never be able to live lives filled with peace and happiness.

But many of us treat our relationship with God like a tire swing.  Sure, when it's just sitting there, it shows what's vertical.  But we like to get on the weight (the tire) and see how far we can go.  It's fun to push the limits.

Unfortunately, we never get anything accomplished that way.  We just keep going over and over the same things and we might end up kind of dizzy, disoriented.

Remembering to stay level - that is, recognizing that even after getting into a relationship with God, we can do nothing at all to live the way He intends - "grounds" us.  And maintaining the plumb line - which only requires that we are quiet and let Him define which way is up - reminds us that it's only because of Him that we can accomplish anything at all. After all, He's the One who dropped the plumb line in the first place. He holds it steady at His end. The only variability is at our end.  

No wonder He says, "Be still, and know that I am God." (Ps. 46:10)

When we start thinking that we've built what is in our lives by ourselves, then we're not level, and our relationship with Him is not plumb. But as long as He is at the centre, we will continue to be amazed at what He accomplishes in us.