clutter and chaos cleared

God whispers in the silences. in the stillness. in the moments of pause. yet we have to be intentional in calming our hearts, our minds, our souls in order to hear it. perhaps we have to be intentional about creating sacred space, holy ground, on which we take off our shoes and meet God.s

Sometimes I think God yearns for us, pleads for us, and begs us to be in relationship with him. yet we so often turn away--seduced by the powers of technology, other relationships, people, places, school, jobs, money and various other things that crowd into our souls and vie for their own space.

Yet.

I think God might call us to stop. listen. and rest in him. allowing him to slowly, gently, but forcefully, clear out the chaos and clutter that we have chosen to instead make room for him.

May we seek him more fully together.

Reaching into the depths and pouring out

"To care means first of all to empty our own cup and to allow the other to come close to us. It means to take away the many barriers which prevent us from entering into communion with the other. When we dare to care, then we discover that nothing human is foreign to us, but that all the hatred and love, cruelty and compassion, fear and joy can be found in our own hearts. When we dare to care, we have to confess that when others kill, I could have killed too. When others torture, I could have done the same. When others heal, I could have healed too. And when others give life, I could have done the same. Then we experience that we can be present to the soldier who kills, to the guard who pesters, to the young man who plays as if life has no end, and to the old man who stopped playing out of fear for death.

By the honest recognition and confession of our human sameness we can participate in the care of God who came, not to the powerful but powerless, not to be different but the same, not to take our pain away but to share it. Through this participation we can open our hearts to each other and form a new community."--Henri Nouwen, "Out of Solitude", pp. 42-43

How might God be calling us to empty ourselves in order that we might be filled with him? This is the question I find myself asking my own heart deep within me. How might I empty myself, allow myself to be poured out so that God might pour in his extravagant grace and that grace might spill out of my own soul and bleed into the souls of others? How might I step out of the way, deconstruct and tear down the barriers of my own brokenness so that I might participate in the compassion that God has for his people and that we might be part of forming a new community together.

It is in the still moments, the silent moments of perching on a green coverlet with the sound of a dripping faucet that I wonder, question, and plead with God to allow me to keep coming to him and laying my own brokenness at his feet. It is this plea that I cry out tonight and it is this plea that I cry not only for my own heart, but a cry that together we might be united in facing towards God allowing his healing to permeate us, his compassion to mend the tears, and his grace to flow in, around, and through us so that others see not ourselves, but God.

Good night my friends. Shalom.

whisper of words

And so I come once again to type and let my fingers tickle the keyboard, hopeful of the creativity to come. :) This week I have been attempting to center more of my thoughts on Psalm 139, one of my favorite psalms. I distinctly remember as an 8th grader underlining practically every verse of that psalm in almost every color of gel ink I owned at the time. And the Psalm is again coming back to me, and I am attempting to wrestle in its truths. I was challenged by a friend to read it every day for the rest of Lent and have, so far, been able to keep up with the challenge. It is amazing to me how softly God can whisper admid words.

Sit with it, rest with it, and let these words enter into the core of you are. What might God be saying?


Psalm 139
For the director of music. Of David. A psalm.

 ¹ You have searched me, LORD,
   and you know me. ² You know when I sit and when I rise;
   you perceive my thoughts from afar. ³ You discern my going out and my lying down;
   you are familiar with all my ways. ⁴ Before a word is on my tongue
   you, LORD, know it completely. ⁵ You hem me in behind and before,
   and you lay your hand upon me. ⁶ Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
   too lofty for me to attain.

 ⁷ Where can I go from your Spirit?
   Where can I flee from your presence? ⁸ If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
   if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. ⁹ If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
   if I settle on the far side of the sea, ¹⁰ even there your hand will guide me,
   your right hand will hold me fast. ¹¹ If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
   and the light become night around me,” ¹² even the darkness will not be dark to you;
   the night will shine like the day,
   for darkness is as light to you.

 ¹³ For you created my inmost being;
   you knit me together in my mother’s womb. ¹⁴ I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
   your works are wonderful,
   I know that full well. ¹⁵ My frame was not hidden from you
   when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
 ¹⁶ your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
   were written in your book
   before one of them came to be. ¹⁷ How precious to me are your thoughts,^[a] God!
   How vast is the sum of them! ¹⁸ Were I to count them,
   they would outnumber the grains of sand—
   when I awake, I am still with you.

 ¹⁹ If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
   Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty! ²⁰ They speak of you with evil intent;
   your adversaries misuse your name. ²¹ Do I not hate those who hate you, LORD,
   and abhor those who are in rebellion against you? ²² I have nothing but hatred for them;
   I count them my enemies. ²³ Search me, God, and know my heart;
   test me and know my anxious thoughts. ²⁴ See if there is any offensive way in me,
   and lead me in the way everlasting.

(perhaps joy)

And so I come to the computer tonight, fingers itching to write and a head full of theology that needs a much needed break. :)

There was a cascade of flower petals on the wet sidewalk--it looked like a snowfall of flowers.

Joy is found in blizzards of flowers, in pink frosted marshmallows and purple jellybeans.
in small hands clinging to yours as 3 year old feet stomp and splash in every puddle you come across
in a wild leap across the moat that cascades down the sidewalk between you and your van door and the laugh that bursts out from you as you attempt to make the leap
in the splash of dirty rainwater on your jeans

in a candle that flickers

in the rain that dances on the roof.

Joy is found in moments like these is it not?

Embracing the tension?

Well my friends, it has been a week since the fast begun. I have to admit it has been difficult to sustain. :) There have been many times where I have itched to check face-book, and found myself checking the blog instead. :) One of the things I realized this week was just how dependent I have gotten on technology and it is larger connectedness to the world; I have realized that for me, face-book can be somewhat of an "ego booster"; I have to admit it is super encouraging to get comments, wall posts, and keep in touch with friends. In some ways, this little blog feels like isolating my world. But maybe instead I can view it as a much needed break? Maybe instead I can see it as an intuitional technology sabbath?

One of my dear friends and house-mates, talks a lot about taking mini Sabbaths, or creating sacred space wherever we can find it in order to rest, relax and simply celebrate the moment. I find myself needing to do more of that; indeed, I think my soul truly craves it. Why is it that silence, while it can be so deeply desired, is something we also fear? Why is it that in the silences we become convicted, compelled and challenged to be different?

Perhaps this is some of what I am hearing God saying. Maybe he is saying--"sit with me in the silence Melody. rest with me. and let me love on you."

Perhaps this whisper happens as tree branches dance in the cold winter winds of March, as leaves skitter and skip across the sidewalk, and as raindrops wait behind clouds, pregnant with anticipation to drop onto the ground and renew it. Perhaps God speaks to us in those moments, if only we are silent enough to hear him.

The Prayer of Peace

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;


Where there is hatred, let me sow love;


Where there is injury, pardon;


Where there is error, the truth;


Where there is doubt, the faith;


Where there is despair, hope;


Where there is darkness, light;


And where there is sadness, joy.
 


O Divine Master,


Grant that I may not so much seek


To be consoled, as to console;


To be understood, as to understand;


To be loved as to love.
 


For it is in giving that we receive;


It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;


And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

--St. Francis

And so I begin

So, as I was reflecting, wondering, and pondering about what to give up for Lent I found myself challenging a friend to give up Facebook. "Giving up Facebook seems like such a hard thing to do", she told me; I replied that I had done it previously, but then I found myself wondering--what would it be like this year? It seems so difficult? Yet would it be a positive way of trimming back, of giving myself more margin, of forcing myself to focus more? Perhaps....I wonder.

And as I kept musing and chewing on this idea another thought came to me--what would it be like to journey intentionally through Lent this season by writing about it. Another friend at church this day suggested that I perhaps write a blog and I told him about a cooking idea I had--which may or may not be actualized at some point in the near future :), I explained that I wanted to have a reason to write a blog. I wanted it to be intuitional, about a certain event.

And so, I turned to Lent. And thought, perhaps as I am intenitionally fasting from one form of constant technology; perhaps this will push me to also intentionally reflect on why I am fasting, and what I am fasting for! Because, the more I sit with Jesus, the more I realize that he calls us not only to fast from something, but also to fast for something--we fast in order to know Jesus better; we fast in order to draw closer to God's heartbeat for the world; we fast so that we might be deeper in tune with his song.

And, so I begin my fast.