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On my knees.

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I’ve discovered it is pretty easy to pray while I’m working. My job really only requires part of my attention when I’m off the desk. I can pray or meditate or be receptive to what the Spirit wants me to receive. This is where and when and how I get most of my ideas for this blog.

Today I was out in the stacks pulling paging slips. We are part of a large library system and we get requests for books to be sent to other branches. Sometimes I’m the one who goes and pulls them from the shelves. I was back in the biography section and was praying about my calling. I want to be on the right path, but I also want to know how close I am to seeing it fulfilled.

Yeah, I’m trying to make that tadpole into a frog again.

The Spirit said that it was already happening, that it has already started. The Spirit has said this before. I’m having a hard time believing this because I don’t see it yet, but I’m feeling more content about this.

Then I felt compelled to go to my knees. Right there. In thanks.

This is really weird. But I’m pulling these books and I think it wouldn’t look out of place for me to kneel down in front of this shelf as if I’m looking for a book. I kneel, feeling obedient but silly and a little self conscious. I give thanks.

It was a small moment. When I looked up, I noticed a book was facing me. It was titled “Nowhere But Up”. I took it as a further affirmation.

I wouldn’t have noticed this little bit of encouragement if I’d remained standing.

Sometimes we have to get on our knees to know we are on the right path.

Snake handler 3 (Jonah and the tornado)

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Consider this Post Secret for weird people. This is a tale of Jonah in the whale, except I was Jonah and a tornado was the whale.

A few months ago a huge storm was coming. It was so big that the National Weather Service had sent out alerts a day beforehand. Now, I live in Tennessee, so severe thunderstorms that can produce tornadoes are normal. They are a fact of life, and just part of the tradeoff for living here. So for the local NWS to issue a strong alert about this the day before was concerning.

When I came home from work the day before it was late. The moon had risen, and a gentle darkness had covered my town. I felt a strong need to pray, right then, in my driveway. I didn’t feel like it could wait until I got inside. Also, I’m a little private about my prayers. Even though my husband has some inkling of my prayer life, he hasn’t seen it in action.

Now, you’d think that praying outside would be more public, but it isn’t. This is the South. It is hot. It is humid. We generally stay inside in air conditioned splendor. I’m honestly not sure how people survived before central air. Perhaps we have gotten soft with our modern machines, but I digress.

I was standing outside on my driveway, in the dark, praying to God. I prayed harder than I have prayed in a long time. I prayed for the safety of everyone in the path of the storm. I prayed that nobody lose their life. I felt after each request that it would be granted. I decided to push harder, and pray that there be no property damage, but I got a push back on that one and felt that was answered “no”. I prayed for about 20 minutes, fervently, earnestly, tearfully. This was a big storm. I was afraid.

The next day came and the storm was predicted for around 4 or 5. This gave me plenty of time to do errands. This too is normal in the South. We can’t let the fear of tornados stop us from living our lives. If we did, we’d never leave our houses in the Spring or Fall, when tornados are most likely to develop.

I had the day off the day of the storm. I met up with a friend and went to an art supply store. On the way I saw a guy who essentially lives at the library. He is homeless, and spends his days there. But on Fridays, we are closed. I saw him near the library and advised him about the big storm and asked if he had a place to go. He did. I went looking for another homeless person who lives near the post office but didn’t see him.

I finished my errands and went home. I prepared. I brought a camp chair into the area we use for tornados. There is a section in the basement that realtors refer to as “unfinished.” It is glorified crawl space. You can stand up in an area that is about 2 feet by 3 feet, and the rest is rock and dirt and conduit and pipes and wiring. There is an interior door and no windows. It is the best place to be in a bad storm – low, no windows. It is also really boring and a little smelly. I brought a flashlight. I brought my cell phone, with the Weather Channel application on.

Now, about now in this story you might be thinking where is my faith? I prayed to God. Yet I’m preparing for a tornado. Yes. There is no contradiction. There is an Arabic saying – “Trust God, but tie your camel”. I’m pretty sure that has a deeper meaning, but to me it means that you can’t be stupid. God will do what God will do, and it is up to us to do the rest. I also remember the story of the guy and the two boats and the helicopter. It is an old story that is told as a cautionary tale about not waiting for divine intervention to appear in miraculous ways. Often God works through simple everyday means. Perhaps I’ll transcribe it for another post, just in case you haven’t heard it.

I put on my long coat. I put on my bicycle helmet. I did both of these things to protect myself from potential flying debris. Sometimes it isn’t the tornado that kills you, but the stuff that gets flung around by the tornado. I looked outside and told my next-door neighbor who was just then noticing the storm coming that he should get inside and close his garage door. I suspect my wearing a coat and a bicycle helmet drove the message home that I was serious. I called my neighbor across the street to let him know about the storm as well.

I’m an Advanced Certified Storm Spotter. I’m certified by the National Weather Service. I’ve taken two classes for this, totaling 7 hours. I’ve got a certificate. I’ve got a non-public 1-800 number stored in my speed dial to call in reports. I know what bad weather looks like.

This looked bad.

The storm was huge, at least 6 miles wide. The center of it on the radar was purple. Red is bad enough. When it gets to purple you are in real trouble. The purple area was at least 2 miles wide. And it was headed straight for my neighborhood. There were reports of hail. Hail is an indicator of tornadic activity. We were under a tornado warning, not a watch. Warnings are worse. Warnings mean that it looks on the radar like a tornado could be forming, but the NWS has no way of knowing one has actually touched down unless it is called in by a spotter. So there could be a tornado happening and the NWS wouldn’t know. Best to prepare as if there is one.

I sat inside my safe place and waited. I could hear the storm howling around the house. I could hear what sounded like hail. I was alone, because my husband was stuck at work waiting out the storm there. I prayed. I prayed hard. I prayed like Jonah. I prayed in a different way than I’d prayed the night before. I was stuck in the middle of a bad thing, and instead of praying to get out of it I prayed prayers of thanks. I praised God. I gave thanks to God, praising Him for his mercy and kindness. I thought of everything that I had and everything that I am and I gave thanks to God for it. Instead of asking for more, I gave thanks for what was right now.

Meanwhile that huge blob of purple was headed straight for my house. There was no way it was going to miss me. If it didn’t have a tornado in it, it had wind strong enough to knock down the trees in my yard and flatten my house. You don’t need a tornado to destroy your home. A strong enough wind will do the job.

And I prayed.

And God listened. God always listens. God always answers prayers, but not always the way you want them to go. This is an important point. It is important to be OK with “No” being an answer. It is important to know that God isn’t your waiter.

The storm eased. It grew quiet outside. Was this the eye of the storm? I looked at the weather radar and it looked clear. The blob had moved on faster than I expected. It is as if this huge freight train of a storm had just hopped over my neighborhood.

I went upstairs to look out the front door. I braced myself for the sight. I expected to see several trees down, or power lines across the road. I steeled myself against the inevitable results of storms in the South, and especially one so ferocious sounding.

I opened the door and was greeted by bright sunshine and the songs of birds. The only thing that had come down in my neighborhood were leaves. No limbs. No trees. No power lines. It looked like a standard spring rain had happened. As I took all of this in, I heard very clearly in my head this voice – “And now you know that I am your God.”

I laughed. I laughed with relief and amazement. I had tears coming down my face as I laughed. I said in reply “And I am your girl.”

I checked the news reports the next day, and found that “miraculously”, no one was killed in this storm.

I’m telling you this story to tell you that God is real.
I’m telling you this story to tell you that God listens to prayers.
I’m telling you this story to tell you that it is OK to pray big.

I’m telling you that our God is an awesome God.
I’m telling you that even if you don’t believe in God, God believes in you.

This is the God of Abraham, and of Isaac and of Israel. This is the God who is the father of Jesus. This is the God who created the world and everything in it. This is the God who created you and me.

I’m telling you that it is comforting to pray to God. It is comforting to know that there is a power greater than you who is in charge and who cares about you. It is comforting to know that you aren’t alone. It is comforting to know that this power, this force, wants to connect with you.

I wish you peace on your journey.

Namaste.

(Edit – I’ve located the pictures from my phone of the radar picture from that storm)
I was right in the path.
storm1
It was a very dense storm.
storm2

The story of Samuel

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I love the story of Samuel in the Old Testament. There is so much in it that I find really meaningful that I’d like to share it with you. All verses are from the New Revised Standard Version.

The story starts with Samuel’s mother, Hannah. Hannah is a woman who is unable to conceive a child, and her husband’s other wife has many children and constantly berates her for her lack of children. Hannah is deeply upset and goes to the temple to pray for a child.

I Samuel 1:9-16
“9 After they had eaten and drunk at Shiloh, Hannah rose and presented herself before the LORD. Now Eli the priest was sitting on the seat beside the doorpost of the temple of the LORD. 10 She was deeply distressed and prayed to the LORD, and wept bitterly. 11 She made this vow:”O LORD of hosts, if only you will look on the misery of your servant, and remember me, and not forget your servant, but will give to your servant a male child, then I will set him before you as a nazirite until the day of his death. He shall drink neither wine nor intoxicants, and no razor shall touch his head.” 12 As she continued praying before the LORD, Eli observed her mouth. 13Hannah was praying silently; only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard; therefore Eli thought she was drunk. 14 So Eli said to her, “How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine.” 15But Hannah answered, “No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the LORD. 16 Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time.”

The priest doesn’t even know what a praying person looks like. This is really amazing to me. A priest should be acquainted with the idea of a praying people. He should know the difference between holy and crazy.

Here’s another interesting part. She is upset and pouring out her heart to the Lord. She is making a vow that if she is able to have a child, she will give him up to God. She is asking God for something that she is then going to give back to God. This is amazing. She isn’t asking for something for herself. She wants a child, but then she isn’t going to keep him.

When he was weaned, she took him back to the Temple and put him in the service of God. He was a child. She didn’t have him for very long. She kept him just long enough to wean him so that he didn’t need her any more. She honored her promise. How many of us make promises to God in a time of distress and then we go back on them or forget them when everything is fine? I know I do.

Samuel first heard the voice of God in the middle of the night.

1 Samuel 3:1-9
“Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the LORD under Eli. The word of the LORD was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. 2 At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; 3 the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the LORD, where the ark of God was. 4 Then the LORD called, “Samuel! Samuel!” and he said, “Here I am!” 5 and ran to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call; lie down again.” So he went and lay down. 6 The LORD called again, “Samuel!” Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, my son; lie down again.” 7 Now Samuel did not yet know the LORD, and the word of the LORD had not yet been revealed to him. 8 The LORD called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” Then Eli perceived that the LORD was calling the boy. 9 Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, ‘Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.’” So Samuel went and lay down in his place.”

Eli, the priest, hadn’t ever heard the voice of God.

Here is a person set aside to serve the Lord and he hasn’t heard from the Lord. Ever. He is following the rules and regulations. He is following along with tradition. But he has no real connection with God. He is doing the way they’ve always done it because they’ve always done it that way. But he’s never heard from God. He is just following along in the book.

He also is squandering the offering. He had been using the offerings for himself and for his children.

So just because someone is ordained, it doesn’t mean that they are holy. Sometimes it is just a job to them.

Be careful of who you trust. Be careful of who you follow.

The Lord told Samuel that Eli was about to get punished, along with his children, because of their iniquity.

1 Samuel 3:10-18
10 Now the LORD came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” 11 Then the LORD said to Samuel, “See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle. 12 On that day I will fulfill against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end. 13 For I have told him that I am about to punish his house forever, for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God,[b] and he did not restrain them. 14 Therefore I swear to the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli’s house shall not be expiated by sacrifice or offering forever.”
15 Samuel lay there until morning; then he opened the doors of the house of the LORD. Samuel was afraid to tell the vision to Eli. 16 But Eli called Samuel and said, “Samuel, my son.” He said, “Here I am.” 17 Eli said, “What was it that he told you? Do not hide it from me. May God do so to you and more also, if you hide anything from me of all that he told you.” 18 So Samuel told him everything and hid nothing from him. Then he said, “It is the LORD; let him do what seems good to him.”

I’m actually amazed that Eli listened to Samuel, that he believed that the Lord was speaking to him. But then that amazement is cancelled out with the last line “It is the LORD; let him do what seems good to him.”

As if it is some random thing the Lord is about to do to him. As if he doesn’t deserve what is about to happen to him. The Lord doesn’t strike down Eli and his sons on a whim. They intentionally didn’t do what was right. They got what was coming to them. It wasn’t random.

There is a lot that goes on in this little story, and I’m sure there is a lot more that I’m missing. Samuel grows up to be a great prophet and leader, and Samuel is the person who is lead by the Lord to find and anoint David as king.

Snake handling 1 (walks with God)

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I’m going to start sharing stories of when God has called me with the hope that these stories resonate with you. I want to inspire you to be able to answer the call. It is hard to hear, and hard to understand. Perhaps we can muddle through together.

I consider this like “Post Secret” but for hearing from God. Or maybe it is like AA. I’m admitting that God talks to me. I think God talks to everybody, but they just don’t have their radio receivers tuned clearly. Maybe if I share some of what I’ve experienced you’ll realize that you have been through similar experiences. The purpose of AA is to let others know that they aren’t alone, and to give them strength on their journey. I have the same goal.

So I’ll start with this story, and add more later.

Many years ago I was walking with friends in downtown Chattanooga. It was late, probably 10 pm. We were walking to our favorite hangout, The Pickle Barrel. It was mid-November, and chilly enough for a jacket, but otherwise pleasant. This was not uncommon to walk at night in downtown Chattanooga. It was a safe town.

I caught a glimpse of a guy sitting by himself in Miller Plaza. This is an open area where bands sometimes play on the weekends. He was sitting by a fountain that had been turned off because it was winter. Something about him caught me. I felt instantly that he needed help of some sort. I told my friends that I’d catch up with them in a little bit.

It was as if there was a hand on my head and it turned me in that direction. The entire time I was walking across the street I was arguing with God. What are you doing!? I don’t know this person. It is late at night. I am a small white woman!?

Chattanooga in general was safe to walk at night, but I’d been cautioned about strangers my whole life. My parents meant well with their concerns and fears, but they themselves were ruled by their fears. Fear is what killed them, ultimately. I wasn’t rebelling against them by doing this, but I knew that I had to do something. I had to get over my trained fear and listen to that voice that compelled me onward.

As I got closer to him, and saw that he was probably 6 feet tall, maybe 140 pounds. He was pale, and had dark hair. He also had a silver ring on his wedding finger that could have been a wedding ring.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have a script or training for this. I was terrified. But I felt like I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I was there already. I was looking at him, and he was looking at me.

I asked him if he was OK. He said he was. I knew he wasn’t. I kept talking with him. I wasn’t prying, and I certainly didn’t tell him that God sent me over because something was wrong. I just made light conversation.

We exchanged phone numbers and parted for the evening. It was months later that he told me that he was going to kill himself that night.

It was because I came up to him and distracted him that he didn’t.

This story has stayed with me for over half my life.

I still feel that pull to go up to strangers and ask them if they are OK. I still don’t know what to say or do. I don’t always go up to them. I wait to see if the pull is really there or if I’m just imagining it.

I don’t want to seem crazy.

It isn’t normal in our society to go up to strangers and talk to them. We are told not to. We are cautioned daily about how dangerous it is.

And then I remember this story. Normally we are told we might die if we go talk to strangers. Yet in this story, the stranger would have died if I hadn’t gone up to him.

It was a weird feeling, this pull. It was as if I had no say in the matter. I was as if I was a puppet. It was kind of unpleasant. It certainly was going counter to anything I’d been told by my parents or priests.

Yet it is everything.

We are told that if we are acting in accordance in the will of God, we are safe.

This is what snake handlers do. You know, the ones you’ve heard about in rural parts of the South or in the mountains of North Carolina. The ones who use snakes as part of their worship service.

They take their lead from the words of Jesus in Mark 16:17-18 “17 And these signs will accompany those who believe: In My name they will drive out demons; they will speak in new languages; 18 they will pick up snakes; if they should drink anything deadly, it will never harm them; they will lay hands on the sick, and they will get well.” And also these words from Jesus in Luke 10:19 “19 Look, I have given you the authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and over all the power of the enemy; nothing will ever harm you.”

I want to take that bravery out into the streets, into the market place. I want to take that and make it useful.

Snake handling done for the sake of snake handling is pointless.

But I also say communion for the sake of communion is pointless.

They both might make you feel closer to God. They both might make you feel connected, and may remind you of your covenant with God.

But they don’t mean anything if you can’t or won’t take that energy outside.

I don’t do this a lot. I saw a guy yesterday at my doctor’s office that I felt a small pull toward. I thought – what should I do? I walked out of the foyer, and I stopped for a moment, standing a few feet from the doors. I waited for the pull again. I waited for the hand on my head, directing me back.

It didn’t come. I don’t know if I missed it, or if it wasn’t something that I HAD to do.

I don’t know. I’ve not found books on this. I’ve not found a teacher.

Perhaps the experience itself is the teacher. Perhaps I need to just let God guide me through this. Sometimes this walk of faith feels like walking in darkness, with tiny pools of light to guide me. When I’m brave enough to step forward into the pool of light, another lights up before me. I don’t know where I’m headed, but I trust who is leading me.

I test everything. Does it feel crazy? That isn’t enough. Look at Moses – he talked to a burning bush. Look at Mary – she talked to angels who told her she was going to bring forth the Messiah.

Am I being asked to do something dangerous? That isn’t enough. Look at Peter – he walked on water. Look at Abraham – he was asked to sacrifice his son.

It is totally crazy to follow God. No wonder non-Christians feel like we are zombies. We pray about everything, asking God for guidance. We don’t rely on our own knowledge, because we realize that it isn’t enough. We are trying to tap into a bigger source. We aren’t lessening ourselves, we are plugging into Source. We are trying to upgrade from a 110 to a 220. We are trying to upgrade from a water hose to a garden hose. But it is hard, and confusing, and weird because there aren’t that many guides on this.

Here’s a test – is it for me? Or is it for others? Who will benefit from this action? If it is selfish, then run away. If it is self-less, then run towards it. If you are serving others, you are safe. Now, this doesn’t mean that nothing “bad” will happen – but it means that if it does, then it is also part of God’s will.

Confusing? Sure. But the Bible is full of stories that are confusing and yet many of us use them as the basis for our faith. I’m just bold enough to think there is some truth in these stories, and that it applies to us, right here and right now.

Waking up (answering the call)

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I’m often very slow to answer a call. Whether it is a call from nature or a call from God, I’m slow. I’ve just realized this. I’ve just put these things together. I’m figuring that by working on one, I’ll be working on the other at the same time. At the very least, noticing where there is a weakness means that it doesn’t have control over me.

I used to think it was just that I was slow to answer God’s call. After all, I’m bipolar. How am I supposed to know if it is God talking or if it is the disease talking? Now, bipolar disorder doesn’t usually manifest with hearing voices, but I’m just being careful. How do I know I don’t have an extra twist to my diagnosis? There are enough people who say they hear from God and it is more than obvious in their actions that they are making it up.

I think our society has done an amazing job of teaching people to question hearing from God. We joke about hearing voices in your head. Even mainstream church has taught people that hearing from God is something only prophets in the Old Testament did. It isn’t something that is done today.

I’ve long questioned what I’ve heard. I’ve long fought against it. I know things before they happen. I feel compelled to go up to total strangers and ask them if everything is OK, only to find out that it isn’t and they need help.

I’ve long fought against this, and been slow to respond. My church didn’t teach me how to recognize the voice of God, and that is the one place that should have. When I did finally come to accept what I was hearing, I was very slow in responding. I didn’t act. I feel that I’m going to get in further than I know what to do. I’m going to show up to something like a spiritual heart attack and all I have is a band-aid.

This is why I went to get training. I went to my minister three years ago and asked for training and oversight. I keep coming across people who are broken and hurting, and I want to help but I don’t know how. I want to gain the skills necessary to be helpful to them in their time of emotional crisis. I want to learn how to provide spiritual first aid. I figure training would help me to get over my hesitancy to answer God’s call. I’d know what to do. I also asked for oversight, so that others would make sure I was on the right path. Again, I didn’t want to be misled by my mind.

But my motives were questioned. I was put on hold. Three years went by before the process (the priest decided I was being called to be a deacon) even began, and then when it did I had to provide proof of when and where and by what priest and I was baptized. I had to provide proof of when and where and by what bishop I was confirmed. I had to provide certified copies of my college transcripts. I had to write my spiritual biography. I had to provide my financial records, to prove that I was a good steward of money.

This is all for a non-paying position. This is all for a job that would be over and above my real job that paid the bills, which was 40 hours a week already.

And I still hadn’t learned in that time how to discern if that voice I was hearing was God’s.

I did get to go to a Pastoral Care class, and that was helpful. On the surface, it was learning how to be a chaplain in a hospital. Deeper, it was about learning how to listen to people, really listen, in a deep way. It was about how to set aside my own fears and concerns and provide a safe place for the other person to get out their fears and concerns. It was like learning how to be a spiritual midwife.

I also got connected with a spiritual director. In order to go through the process, I had to meet with a spiritual director once a month. The fee for that is out of my own pocket. A spiritual director is kind of like a guru. She or he is trained in a divinity school usually, and the goal is intimacy with God. I’ve learned more from my spiritual director than I’ve ever learned from any minister in any church.

But I still haven’t learned how to determine what is God and what is in my head, and then to respond faster. I’m relaxing into it, however. I’m becoming my own teacher. This isn’t what I wanted, but it has to happen somehow. I’ve not gotten the help I wanted or needed from supposed experts, so I’ve gone off on my own.

It is sad that I asked for training on how to help people and I got challenged on it, and then I got delayed. I’d think that the desire to help people wouldn’t be so special that it needs a committee and assignments and paperwork. I think of all the people who are still just as lost and broken three years later, who still need help and didn’t get it because I was delayed.

I’m hurt. I’m angry. I feel deceived. I feel like I’ve been insulted and my time and energy has been wasted. I feel like I was being trained to wedge myself into the machine that is the church, to learn how to wait and respond to the bureaucracy of the church rather than how to wait and respond to the voice of God. The church would tell me that the two are the same, but you know a tree by its fruit, and something is rotten here.

I’m frustrated when I see someone who is homeless. I want to treat the cause, not the symptom. To give them a banana and a $20 bill is only going to help them right then. What about tomorrow?

There is a program in Nashville called Thistle Farms. It takes women off the streets, women who are drug abusers and prostitutes, and teaches them how to be human again. It is a two-year program, where they detox and learn job skills. While I admire the efforts of this program, I want to go backwards. I want to prevent people from becoming drug addicts and prostitutes to start off with. I want to prevent homelessness.

I don’t want to treat the symptom. I want to treat the cause. And I don’t know how.

And meanwhile I’ve left church because they not only didn’t support me but delayed me in my journey to understanding my calling. I’ve left church because the priest told me to not talk about God. I’ve left church because when I posted a blog about how far off the track I think church has gotten from the message of Jesus I got attacked instead of listened to.

I understand, a little. I understand how hard it is for members of the church, especially the priest, to accept that we are going in the wrong direction. I understand, because I felt that in church. I felt that I’ve wasted a lot of my time in church listening to somebody else’s interpretation of the Bible rather than being taught how to interpret it for myself – how to make it real, how to make it applicable to daily life.

It’s like I was given a really tasty cake every week but not taught the recipe. I want to learn how to make that cake myself. Then I want to share it with others.

That is part of what I’m trying to do here, with this blog. I’m trying to replicate what I’ve tasted, what I’ve experienced without a cookbook. I’m winging it. I think that just trying to figure it out on my own I’m getting pretty close to what it is.

I’m angry at every church I’ve ever been in for standing in my way. I’m angry at them for clipping my wings. I know it isn’t personal and it isn’t intentional. I feel like it was done to them too, so they didn’t know any better.

So in the meantime I muddle along. And I think there is something in the idea of getting faster at answering any call.

At the risk of getting too personal, I have a hard time waking up and going to the bathroom. I tend to lie there, in a mild state of discomfort, rather than getting up and just going. Or I have a tendency to be really cold and unwilling or unable to move enough to get a blanket to cover myself. I’m wondering if working on these things, these known physical needs, will help me with the rest. I’ll lie around, quietly miserable, and not do anything to help myself. I feel kind of paralyzed.

It is really hard to get disciplined when you are asleep.

It is hard enough when you are awake. It is hard to stop any bad habit and start a good one. It is hard to make time to exercise. It is hard to choose nutritious food rather than junk food. It is hard to divorce yourself from mind-numbing television shows and soul-eating relationships.

I feel that many of us are waking up, now, to ourselves, to our callings. I’m grateful. Our energy will carry over to others.

Insomnia

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I am starting to see insomnia as a good thing. Instead of fighting it, I’m seeing it as a chance to pray and get closer to God.

When I was at the Cursillo retreat last October I was awake at night a lot more than I’d wanted. The entire experience is a little overwhelming for the average person, and it is mind blowing for someone like me who has a mental health diagnosis.

When I’ve been in a manic phase in the past, I have experienced God directly in ways that mystic writers describe perfectly. This is part of why I’m so concerned that I never confuse whether I’m experiencing God or a facet of my diagnosis. I’m starting to realize that it is also important to not dismiss an experience just because of my diagnosis. Just because a person is bipolar doesn’t mean that God isn’t talking to them.

I’ve already written in part about the first night that I was unable to sleep and went to the small chapel. When the second night of wakefulness happened, I was a little miffed. I had come to trust that it was God waking me up by this point, but I also know that if I don’t get enough sleep then I’m not really that intact for the next few days.

So I started arguing with God. “Really? God? Are you kidding? You know how I get when I don’t sleep.” And I heard back the same kind of reply that Moses heard when he complained that he was not fit to go plead to Pharaoh for the release of the Jews from slavery. God said he made me, so he knows what I am capable of and what I can handle. And then he followed it up with “You said you wanted to spend more time with me”. I laughed. He had a point there. So I lay awake, praying. Praying to me isn’t about saying certain words over and over. It is about being comfortable in the presence of God. It is about relaxing with an old friend who knows me better than I know myself. Remember, God knew you as you were being knit together in your mother’s womb. (Psalm 139:13)

So these nights when I wake up for no obvious reason, I am starting to use it as a reminder to pray, to get closer to God. I pray for the well being of all people, especially those involved in any recent tragedy. I feel out if there are any topics I need to write about. But mostly I try to relax and rest in the comfort of knowing that God is everything and is in control.

I’ve learned that the more I pay attention to how much sleep I didn’t get, the more wiped out I feel. But if I relax and don’t judge it to be bad, then I always feel fine. I may not get the amount of sleep I think I need, but I always get the amount I actually do need.

How to pray – it isn’t the words or the ritual. It is a feeling.

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Prayer is communicating with God. God wants to hear from us, and for us to hear from him. But how do we do this?

Communicating with God is real. Everyone can do it. It isn’t for the chosen few. Not everybody can do it easily, but everybody can learn how. Hearing from God isn’t as easy as picking up the phone. It isn’t the same as turning on the television. But it is a skill that you can learn.

Consider a marathon runner. She doesn’t wake up one day and start running 26 miles. She may not even like to run to start off with. But she hears about a marathon and she thinks about it. She finally decides to start. She trains. She gets better. She may walk more than run at first. First it is a mile run around the block. Then two. Then five. It can take a long time and many setbacks and blisters to get up to 26 miles, but then one day she is there.

This is also true of hearing from God. It requires practice and effort and persistence.

First, it is important for you to know that God loves you. God made you. You are needed and part of God’s plan. This is why you were made. The fact that you are alive is proof that God needs and loves you. Right now. As you are. Warts and all. You may not feel worthy of God, but God thinks otherwise. So God wants to hear from you. God wants to connect with you. This is true communion, or union-with.

The book “The Isaiah Effect” by Gregg Braden says something very interesting about prayer. It says that prayer isn’t something you do, it is something you feel inside your body. This is very important. This totally turns our Western idea of prayer upside down.

It isn’t the vehicle that is the focus. It isn’t the how-to. It is the destination that is important. You have to get to that feeling in your body that indicates you are in the right spot. Prayer is a feeling, not a ritual.

Prayer isn’t the candle or the words or the gestures. It is the connection with God that is produced when you use those things, or anything else that helps you get there. The candle or the words or the gestures are like a car that you get in to go visit a friend. Getting to your friend is the most important part, not how you get there. Perhaps the car breaks down and you have to walk. That is fine. You got there. Don’t focus on the car.

But because we are physical beings, we often need props to help us. Just remember that the prayer isn’t the props.

C.S. Lewis says “You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.” Our bodies need reminders of our souls. I’ve written before about how I use prayer bracelets, tattoos, painted toenails, and going barefoot as reminders. There are many different ways to remind you to pray and nourish your soul with a connection with God.

Prayer does not have to be passive. It doesn’t have to be sitting in a chair with your hands in front of you saying a prayer that somebody else wrote. It can be active. There are probably as many different ways of praying as there are people. Painting, walking, singing, doodling, meditation, yoga practice can all be used as forms of prayer, for instance. Compassion in action is also good. Volunteering is a form of prayer.

How often should you pray? If you are Muslim, you are to pray five times a day. Some people pray before every meal. If you are Jewish, you are to give thanks to God at least 100 times a day. All of these practices are ways to remind you to pray. Constantly praying is constantly being in communion with God. The more you pray, the better the connection gets between you and God.

In order to hear from God, you have to put yourself in a place where you can hear from God. It is kind of like you want to get a phone call from a friend, but you don’t realize that your phone is turned off because you didn’t pay the bill. You’ll never hear from your friend with that kind of connection.

This is attributed to Saint Francis – “Pray constantly, and if you must, use words.” Prayer doesn’t have to be words, but it can. Part of my goal here is to open your mind up about what prayer is. It doesn’t have to be what you think it is. Trying other ways can be helpful.

Do you use a prayer book, or not? Do you find it helpful or stiff and canned? Jesus tells us that we are not to mutter the same words over and over again, but to pray from our hearts. We learn this in Matthew 6:7 “And when you are praying, do not use meaningless repetition as the Gentiles do, for they suppose that they will be heard for their many words.” (New American Standard Bible) But sometimes that is hard because we don’t know what to say. Then there is this helpful verse from Romans 8:26 “And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.” (New Living Translation)

So you don’t have to use a prayer book. God knows what you want to say. But if you feel you need a prayer book, be sure to read every word carefully and feel them, so that the prayer becomes your own. It isn’t the words that get you there, but the feeling that happens when you read the words. A friend told me a Jewish story about a little boy who didn’t know what how to pray so he just recited the alphabet and let God pick out all the right letters. That works too – but again, it isn’t the letters. It is the feeling you get when you are there, talking to God.

Many different faiths use prayer beads. You can study how they use them, or you can make up your own ritual. They can be used to center you and focus you. Just handling beads can be very calming and centering.

When you pray, remember the feeling you get if you ask for something. Then see if your prayer is answered. Compare the feeling with the result. Journaling can help you keep track of the results. This is a way to learn how God is talking to you. God always answers prayers, but they aren’t always “yes”. With practice, you can learn to “hear” the “yes” from the “no” from the “not right now”. I often “hear” the reply as a feeling, rather than a word. This is often the first way that we hear from God, as feeling.

When I pray for a specific intention, I get a feeling of ease when the prayer is going to be answered as a “yes”. I get a feeling of resistance when it is a “no”. It took a while to learn the subtle difference of feeling between the two. It isn’t as easy as “this is hot” and “this is cold” – it was far more subtle. But it is there. It just takes practice to sort out where and how the feeling feels to you.

I think it is essential to always be ok with the idea that you aren’t in charge. Sometimes it is best you don’t get what you prayed for. God is not your waiter. You don’t always get to have it your way.

God can use anything as a way to answer. You can “hear” God all around you. Nothing is a coincidence. We are like fish who are unaware of water. We are surrounded by God, as everything is from God.

It is perfectly ok to pray for the ability to pray. It is OK to ask God for help in how to pray. Just like in the story of the prodigal son, when the son started back towards his Dad, his Dad saw him and went running to meet him. God wants us to pray, to connect with him. He’ll make up the difference in distance between us.

You’ll get stronger the more you do it. So pray constantly. Be patient with yourself if you slack off and get out of your routine. That is normal. Just start doing it again. Nobody is consistent at their prayers. But the more you pray, the better you’ll get at it, and the more you will connect with God.

Read the Bible, and pray beforehand for the Holy Spirit to help you understand. The Bible is the Word of God. If you want to hear from God, it is a good idea to start off with a known good. This way when you get to the point that God is talking to you in words, you’ll be able to measure up and know if it is God talking and not just your imagination.

Read the prayers of other faiths. There might be something that helps. Like buying a one-size fits all suit, sometimes prayer life needs to be altered and adjusted. I’ve found a lot of comfort in reading about other faith systems. There is a lot in Buddhism for instance that helps to inform my Christianity. I’m enjoying a podcast that is all Torah study as well.

Remember to make time for prayer. Turn off the television. Turn off the iPod. We fill our heads with a lot of noise. How can God get a word in edgewise if we are so noisy all the time?

Consider getting a spiritual director. A spiritual director can be a priest or minister, but doesn’t necessarily have to be one. She or he is trained to help you achieve intimacy with God. I consider such a person to be like a guru, but for Western faiths. I’ve learned more from my spiritual director than I’ve ever learned from any minister.

I’ll leave you with a little poem.

Make your life into a prayer,
and everything you do will be a love letter to God.
And God will answer back, I love you, I love you, I love you
from every rock and rainbow,
from every smile from every stranger.

Sanctuary.

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I was in a chapel at a retreat center last November. It was a tiny chapel, very personal sized. It was big enough to hold maybe 20 people comfortably. There was an old carved wood altar with icons of Mary and Jesus on it. There were small votive candles and white linen altar coverings. The chapel had that warm musty smell that I associate with old hardback books and dusty buildings. I was alone, and it was raining and it was so late at night that it was early in the morning. I was likely to remain there, by myself, because of the rain and the time. I was doing something called an altar call, but I didn’t know it at the time.

I thought about how this room, this chapel, was different from the other rooms at the retreat center. There was something special about how this particular room was set aside for worshiping God and for no other purpose. Because I was by myself, I decided that it was OK to talk to God out loud, instead of quietly in my heart as I normally would do in a chapel.

I said, God, how come when we are in a place like this, we know that you are here? We feel different in a chapel. We feel calmer, more at peace. We feel at home in a way that we don’t usually feel at our own homes. How come we can’t have this feeling everywhere? How come we can’t have this feeling in the kitchen, or in the living room, or at work?

And I heard an answer back.

I heard “You are to make within yourself a sanctuary for me.”

And I thought, of course we are. When I heard this, it made perfect sense.

If we make ourselves into a living sanctuary for God, we will carry God with us, everywhere we go. Not only do we have that warm feeling of God’s presence with us, but we are then able to share that sense of calm and love with everyone we meet.

In the church I came from there are home Communion kits. They are small kits that enable Eucharistic Ministers (lay people who are licensed to distribute the Elements during Communion) to take Communion to members of the church who are unable to attend the worship service due to ill health. Such a kit has glass containers for the already-consecrated Bread and Wine, the Body and Blood, as well as linens and a tiny paten and chalice set. These kits are used just for this purpose.

With these kits, we are able to share Jesus with them, in a literal way. In this way, we are able to remind them that they are part of our family even though we are not able to worship together in the usual way.

By making within ourselves a sanctuary for God, we are becoming living home Communion kits. We are able to share the light and love of God with everyone. We are able to let everyone know that we are all part of one family where we are all brothers and sisters.

When I first started the discernment process to see if I was being called to be ordained I was asked to read a book by the Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor. I was asked to point out what parts spoke to me. The part that got my attention the most was when she talked about her desire to take Communion out of the building and take it out to the sidewalk. She didn’t want the joy of Communion to be kept inside a building. She wanted it to be brought out into the middle of the busyness and bustle of everyday life.

Church buildings can feel very private, very members only. The people who need the healing light of God the most are those who don’t feel able to go inside a church. She wanted to take away the barriers between God and people by bringing God to them, rather than making them come to God.

I want this too. I want this more than I can possibly explain.

My priest misunderstood when I told her this was the part I liked the best. She sent me to a church service called “Church in the Yard”. It is an inner-city ministry that celebrates the Eucharist with homeless people, but instead of celebrating in the church building, it is outside, in the churchyard. While this was an enlightening experience, this wasn’t quite what I meant.

I want more.

I think the beauty of God is that He comes right to us. He doesn’t wait for us to be perfect or beautiful or fixed. He comes to us exactly as we are, right now. He doesn’t need us to go to a special place to know that we are special. He comes to us in our brokenness and our pettiness and our hunger. He comes to us in the middle of our day, unannounced, unassuming. He comes to us to let us know that we are loved beyond our understanding.

I don’t know if I’ve done it right, this “making a sanctuary” within myself. But I know that it is the answer. Because by carrying God within me, rather than thinking He’s out there, in a building far away, I have a sense of freedom that no minister ever taught me.

Hearing voices in the closet.

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If I have to be in the closet at church about the fact that God talks to me, then there is something profoundly wrong going on. Church should be the one place where you can safely and unselfconsciously talk about how God interacts with you. You walk on a thin edge if you talk about God at work or at the dentist office or at Wal-Mart, but church? You should be safe there. You shouldn’t be silenced there.

Yet that is exactly what has happened to me. Now, perhaps the priest was concerned because I’m bipolar. Perhaps she is afraid that I’m not in fact hearing from God. I understand this concern. I wrestled with it for years. For many years I doubted what I heard and knew. I doubted my experiences. I doubted God. And yet it was proven to me again and again that I wasn’t making this stuff up.

The Biblical test for prophets is to see if what they say God told them was going to happen actually happened. I passed that test. Repeatedly. God proved himself to me. God was far more patient with me than I ever would imagine.

It is very important to me to not lead people astray. The church has enough loonies. I didn’t need to add to their ranks. So I understand the priest’s fear. I had it too. And I worked through it. But she didn’t know the stories of when God talked to me and how He proved Himself. She hadn’t been there.

She told me that talking about God was “a conversation stopper” because “other people weren’t having that experience.” This should have been my cue to leave. This was in November, when she told me the deacon discernment process was put on hold for me. Hopefully you catch the irony here. If you are in the deacon discernment process, it is because you believe you are experiencing a call from God.

So it is OK to get a call from God. Just don’t answer, and certainly don’t tell anybody if you got a reply.

I waited, and watched to see how others in church communicate about their experiences with God. And I realized in the three years that I have been there, not a single person has talked about how God talks to them. Not a single person has mentioned that they even prayed to God.

Maybe they do talk to God in prayer, and in prayers of their own words rather than the pre-written prayers of the prayer book. Maybe they do hear from God, and in more than just the already recorded words in the Bible. But they sure don’t talk about it. Why not? Church should be a safe place to talk about such things. Church should be a place where we can have a conversation with God, not a monologue about God. And it should be a place where we can share our experiences with others.

Perhaps they forgot that the entire faith started with Abraham talking to God. Perhaps they forgot Samuel, David, Gideon, Elijah, Elisha, Isaac, Moses, Jacob, Solomon, Noah, Joseph, Mary, and Jesus all talked with God. If the entire religion is based on a person talking to God and so many following people doing the same, then why are we discouraged from being part of that?

God is real. God is constantly communicating with us. We just are too distracted to notice. We fill our heads with the noise of television and iPods and videogames. When God is somehow able to get a word in edgewise we ignore it as a trick of our minds or we think we are going crazy. Or worse, we are told to ignore it by the very people we should expect would be experts at knowing how to deal with it.

I’m not special. I’ve just learned how to cut out the noise. God wants you to hear from Him too. I’ll try to write further about how to hear from God. But I know that the first thing you must do is give God a space. Make some silent time. Be alone with God.

It is crazy to follow God. And it is beautiful and amazing. God knows so much more than I could ever know. My life has changed dramatically since I started trusting that voice. It is calmer. I trust that God is in control. I know that whatever happens is meant to happen.

But to not be able to talk about God in church, aside from what is scripted in the prayer book or in the Bible? Now, that really is crazy.

Reformation

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A reason for the protestant reformation is that people wanted to have a say in the church. They wanted to participate. The priests were doing all the stuff in the church. So now we are here today. How much of what we have now is lip service? How much can the people really do? How much are we taught, and how much are we kept at arm’s length?

I feel that today’s church does not empower. It does not teach us how to hear the voice of God. It does not teach us how to be awake or how to serve. It teaches us to be good docile sheep.

I’m starting to have an empathy with Mary, with Peter, with Martin Luther, and with John Wesley. What was it like to be them? They all started something new, but they didn’t mean to. They had no template and no map. They all knew a change was needed, or was happening and were swept up in it. Some of them thought that they were part of the past, just bringing it up to fruition. They didn’t realize they were bringing change.

How come I am able to have conversations about God at the Y, but I can’t at church? These are deep conversations about how God has talked with us, right here, right now. I would mention something God had told me, and my conversation partner would then tell me something that God had told her. We would both be uplifted by sharing our experiences. We now seek each other out to have these conversations. There are three of us now who meet to exercise in the pool on Sunday afternoons and we have our own little version of church.

I told my priest from the very beginning of my re-joining church about my conversations with God, but when I started telling others at church about them I was chastised. I was told it was a conversation stopper. I was told that it made them uncomfortable. Of all the places in the world, it isn’t OK to talk in church about how God talks to you? I was told it made them uncomfortable because they weren’t having such experiences. Church would seem like the very place to find like-minded people. I would figure that would be a reason to go to church – because you want to share your experiences.

One reason to go to church is to share your faith. To share means to grow in it together. I like hearing about how other people hear from God. It strengthens my faith. It lets me know I’m not “hearing things.” All too often the stories from the Old Testament are just dry stories, dry as bones. They aren’t alive. When we awaken to God, when we listen to His call, we are connected. We become alive. Those stories serve as a template of sorts. They let us know we are on the right path. They let us know when it is God talking and when we are just stuck in our own heads.

Our God is not a God of the dead, but of the living. Our God is alive, and real, and loves us. Our God is constantly trying to reach out to us, to connect with us. All our lives is a returning to God. We are born into this world of division and noise, and all our souls seek unity and peace. We long for communion – for union with. To be one with.

If we go to electronics school, we expect to learn about electronics. We expect to learn about resistors and diodes and LEDs. If we go to craft school, we expect to learn how to make things. We expect to learn about pottery and glassblowing and embroidery. We expect in both instances to be given enough knowledge to be able to do it ourselves.

But church right now isn’t a school. It is a museum. The rituals have stayed the same for over 2000 years. We are told stories about past people who heard from God and acted upon His word, but we aren’t empowered to do this ourselves. We aren’t taught how to hear from God.

Is this because the ministers are afraid we’ll not need them anymore? Is this because the ministers themselves don’t hear from God? Or is there something else going on?

I’m just going to be brave here and say this. God talks to me. I have heard from God since I was 12. It isn’t all the time. I have wrestled with this reality for many years because I didn’t know if it was real or not, because I’m also bipolar. I don’t hide this. This isn’t a secret. I have twice checked myself into a hospital. Twice I have realized that something was wrong and I sought out help. I have had spiritual directors and counselors tell me that is very unusual. Most people who are way out there don’t know how close they are to the edge and they just fall off. I knew. I got help. But I’ve had way too many verifiable experiences to just think that this is all in my head.

But I’m terrified of misleading people. It is absolutely critical that I don’t lead people astray. There are way too many people who say they “hear from God” and it is obvious by their actions that the god they are talking to isn’t a very nice one, or isn’t a very healthy one. When I mention this to spiritual directors and counselors they say that my desire to not mislead people is a good sign. They say that it means that I’m on the right path. But it still concerns me, and I still hold back.

In church I asked my priest for training and for oversight. I want to know how to best help people, and I want to be watched. I don’t want to stray from the path and lead people astray. Instead of training and oversight, I got responsibility and micromanagement.

The church is like this. Say I want to go over there to help those people who are hurting. They are lost and broken and need help, but I don’t know what to do to help them. The church says that is great, so here’s a diagram to build a car to get to them. It took two years to get into the deacon discernment process. Meanwhile those people are still hurting and lost. Then once in the process, I’m asked about my spiritual history and my work history and my current financial status and there is a physical exam and a mental exam….and on and on and on. There is absolutely nothing about how to help people. It is all examining me and my motives.

Something feels very deeply wrong about all this.