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Boat – on an anchorless faith.

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I’m starting to think that the Episcopal church is better off without me. The whole deacon discernment process was put on hold a year ago. I understand now that there is no way I could speak freely and have them put their stamp of approval on me.

Because how dare I say that God is talking to me?

As Christians, our goal is to be connected with God. How can we possibly do the will of God if we can’t hear God?

Oh, right, I forget. We are supposed to trust that the priest/minister/pastor is hearing from God, and telling us what to do.

Yet, this isn’t what Jesus wanted.

So I’m on my own now. I’m non denominational. I’ve been without a church home for half a year, and it is a bit terrifying. There isn’t a road map for this. I keep wanting to go back to the old way, but then I feel a pain in my gut every time I think about it. I know that I can’t. I know that isn’t my path.

I’ll go to a Christmas Eve service. I’ll take communion in a gym. I’ll celebrate Christ in the pool at the Y. I’ll go to my spiritual director. I’ll go to a friend’s house where we share what the Spirit leads us to share. I’ll host events at my house. I’ll pray over my meal in silence at a buffet. I’ll make healing jewelry for a grieving friend. I’ll write.

God is connecting with me in new ways.

It is like I’m on a boat, sailing far away at sea. I’m no longer following the coastline or the man-made lights along the shore. The lights I’m following are the same lights that sailors have followed for thousands of years.

I’m going backwards to go forwards.

The radio doesn’t work here, this far out. There’s no map on the sea either. I have no way of knowing if I’m headed the right way. I have no way of knowing if I’m lost.

I’m pushed along by the breath of God, and that suits me just fine.

This is the same breath that created the world, that gave life to Adam.

I feel safe in this boat, this ark, the ark of Noah, the ark of Moses as a baby. Both went out on trust, went out in wooden boat on the ocean, adrift. Both were there because all was lost and the old ways didn’t work anymore. Both were there because to stay where they were meant certain death.

The Covenant has an ark too. So do Torah scrolls.

The main body, the sanctuary of a traditional church building is known as a nave. It is from naval, from ship. It is an ark for people. It looks like a ship, upside down. The sharp pointed roof is the hull of the ship, pointed towards the sky.

I don’t want that ship anymore. I want to take it and turn it all upside down and set it afloat again.

I don’t think that God wants us to be grounded or set in our ways, or stuck in one place. I think God wants us to be forever trusting in God’s ways, and the only way to do that is to set sail, rudderless, anchorless, free. God wants us to take us further than we’ve ever gone and right where we need to be.

God is, was, and shall be. The Hebrew YHWH is a contraction of these words. It is a good name for God, the infinite, the forever, the now and always is. God is endless and eternal.

We can’t understand this, we humans. We invented time. We invented the idea that tomorrow follows today and each day has a separate name and that time takes place. Perhaps that is why we are confused. We don’t understand God because we can’t limit God. We can’t define God because God is indefinable.

Wake up. Hear the gulls. The day is dawning here.
There’s no shore, but we are not alone.
The beings of the sea and sky keep us company.
Wake up, and smell the salt in the air.
We are safe.
We are home.

Basement faith

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We spent our evening in the basement last night. That is part of living in the South. A tornado can happen anytime, even four days before Christmas.

We knew all day that bad weather was coming. My husband and I are both “certified storm spotters”. We have certificates to prove it. We have taken seven hours of classes to learn more about severe weather. We’d been watching the weather and anticipating it turning worse. It was fairly pleasant all day. Overcast, sure, but warm. If it weren’t for the grey sky you’d think it was a nice spring day.

We went about our day as normal, with the understanding that we might have to cut our plans short and get home fast. Fortunately the bad weather held out and we got most of our chores taken care of.

We don’t really have a plan of action when a storm hits. The training really is for spotting tornados, not riding them out. But I’ve lived in the South all my life and tornadoes are just part of the package. That and a few years in Girl Scouts and I think I know what I’m doing. I hope and pray I’ll never actually need a real plan of action.

We started arranging things when we heard the sirens. It was around 8:30 p.m. They’ve just installed tornado sirens in our neighborhood and we are still getting used to them. I looked at the weather radar and decided we had about 20 minutes.

We turned off our computers. Lightning was associated with this storm. Of course, if it was a tornado we were facing then losing electricity would be the least of our concerns. Who cares about losing electricity when losing your house is an option?

I looked at Scott and said that the worst part about tornadoes is that where we were standing could be gone twenty minutes from now. He looked at me and said “Well, I didn’t want to come here.” He’s missing something. Sure, he moved here with his parents when he was young, but when his parents had a job opportunity when he was in his 20s, he stayed. He’s stayed all this time, and it has been 20 years. So he has chosen to stay here. That counts.

Now, it doesn’t really matter if you want to be in a tornado-prone area or not when a tornado is coming. It doesn’t matter if it is your choice or not, it is coming, and you’d better deal with it. First plan of action – don’t freak out. Assigning blame doesn’t help either.

We had just finished supper so we took our medicine. That just isn’t something to miss. Then we went to the bathroom, because well, it is important too.

We got our coats and hats and headed toward the hallway. Then I got my purse. And a book. And a flashlight. And a cushion to sit on. And a bottle of water. As an afterthought I picked up the weather radio. It isn’t much help, really, after the initial alert, but it felt like it was something I was expected to pick up.

Then the wind picked up. I went outside for a moment to look. I also prayed while out there. God can hear me inside the same as outside, but somehow I feel the connection is better when I’m outside. Perhaps something about being in harm’s way is part of it. It shows I’m not kidding.

I went back in and sat in the hallway. It was kinda boring.

I went to get a shopping bag. If I have to move quickly, it is best to have all my stuff together. Then I thought it might be a good idea to prepare the spot in the basement. You know. Just in case the storm actually got bad.

I’m reminded of the Arabic phrase. “Trust God, but tie your camel.” So I prayed, but I did something just in case. I know God looks out for me. But I also think God wants some participation here.

But then there is the story of Jesus in the boat. (Mark 4:35-41) There’s a terrible storm, and he’s taking a nap. The disciples are freaking out, and he’s cool as a cucumber. They wake him up and the only thing he’s upset about is the fact that they are upset. He knows that God is in control. They haven’t figured that out yet.

Whatever happens to us is the will of God. Freaking out doesn’t change anything. So it is better to accept it. Tornadoes in the South are good teachers of this lesson.

We pulled out some camp chairs and went to sit in the part of the basement that realtors amusingly term “unfinished.” We amusingly call it the “dead body room”. It looks like it would be perfect for that. It is all dirt and rock and cinderblocks and venting for the central air unit. There is a little standing room. There is just enough room for two people to sit face to face, so we did. Scott was a little overwhelmed with the seriousness of the situation. He and I had not waited out a storm together in this spot. Normally we are either separated because we are at work when a storm hits, or we ride it out in the hallway. We talked for a little bit about what was going on, and then I distracted him with other topics.

Sometimes the best way to get through a situation is just to live through it and not to think about it too hard.

He was getting concerned about what would happen if there was a big storm and he died. He wasn’t concerned for himself. He was concerned for me. I’ve been abandoned a lot throughout my life and he didn’t want me to go through that again. I’m not worried about it. It is what it is, and I’ve gotten through it before. I’ll get through it again. I assume it must be a lesson I need to learn.

The storm was over fast, and it wasn’t bad. Well, it wasn’t bad for us. Nobody died, but plenty of people were inconvenienced over the county. A lot of people were without electricity. Some trees down. A brick wall fell and blocked a road. Nothing big. Nothing that requires the Red Cross to mobilize.

But you never know. I’d rather ride out the storm in the “dead body room” than not and become an actual dead body. But then, am I trusting in God, or myself at this point? Sure, God is in control. God has a plan, and everything happens for a purpose. So am I supposed to go hide out during a storm or not? Is hiding out during a storm taking matters into my own hands? Or is it using the brains God gave me?

I’m reminded of the story of the guy who stayed at his house during a flood. Everybody else had evacuated, and he was still there. A rescue worker came by in a boat, and the guy was on his front steps. The rescuer yelled to him – “Come on! Get in the boat! The waters are rising!” The guy says, “Nope! I’m staying right here. I’ve followed God my whole life and He’s not going to abandon me now!” The rescuer shakes his head and goes on. An hour goes by, and the waters have risen dramatically. The guy is now standing at his second story window, because the first story is flooded. Another rescuer comes by in another boat, and says the same thing. The guy again refuses, again saying how he has followed God his whole life and God will provide for him. Another hour passes and the waters are so high now that the guy is standing on his roof. A helicopter comes by with a rope dangling down to the guy. “Come on! Climb the rope! We’re here to save you!” The guy waves them off just the same as before, with the same story. They go away.

The waters rise. He drowns. He arrives at the Pearly Gates and is quite angry with God. “I have believed in You my whole life, and always followed You! How could You let this happen?!”

And God looks at him and says “I sent you two boats and a helicopter…”

Peacemaker and the Process.

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I said at one point about a year ago that my goal in life was to be a peacemaker. I’m not doing a very good job of it. Either I need to reapply myself to my goal, or I need to be honest with myself about what my goal really is.

When I said that was my goal I was in the deacon discernment program in the Episcopal Church. It was tedious. It was a lot longer and harder than I thought it would be. I thought that if a person said that they wanted to be helpful to people, they’d be given some training and some oversight and a task right away. Folks would get help in a helpful way, soon. Nope. Their plan was wait three years and think about it. Meanwhile, I’m stumbling along, clueless. Meanwhile, people are still coming to me with their problems and I still don’t really know what to do.

Part of the Process of discerning if you are called by God to be a deacon in that church, and it really is a Process with a capital P, is a series of assignments. You get an assignment once a month. You need a whole month to work on it. The last one that I was given before the Process was put on “pause” (read, thanks for playing, but you can stop now, you aren’t what we are looking for) was about my goals for life. It was to teach me that everything that I’ve already done in my life was training for what I’m going to do. I felt a bit cheated. If I already have all the training and experience, then what do I need this Process for? If I can figure out for myself what I’m being called to then why do I have to go to these meetings every month and bare my soul to these near strangers?

I’m a little bitter, still, about the whole experience. I try not to write about it much because it just opens fresh wounds that I’m trying to heal. But I’m learning that it is important to examine the source of pain in order to heal. This is a new part of my practice. I’m still learning how.

I said that I wanted to be a peacemaker. I said that I’d love to travel around the world and get people who have disagreed for years to actually listen to each other for a change and see things from each other’s perspectives. I thought that peace in the Middle East would be a big coup.

But then I thought I’d need to learn all those languages, because you always lose something in translation. And I thought that they certainly wouldn’t listen to a young American woman. That is three strikes right there.

Is that the yetzer hara speaking again? Is that the voice of the “evil inclination” that is trying to prevent me from doing what I’m called to do? Or is it the voice of reason that points out that is really not my calling?

Who am I kidding? Peacemaker?

I don’t even talk to my brother or my aunt. I don’t go to my previous church in part because of a huge falling out with the priest. And I’m spending Thanksgiving at home with just my husband because of a falling out with his family. My circles just keep getting smaller.

I don’t have a great track record with making peace.

My usual modus operandi is to avoid the problem. If you don’t talk about it, it will go away, right? Don’t talk about the elephant in the room. We herded elephants in my family home. Just thinking about that madness makes my stomach start to cramp up again. Who doesn’t want to avoid pain? Running away seems very healthy. Until it isn’t, and you realize that you’ve run away your whole life and there isn’t anywhere to run away to anymore.

I feel like I was cheating a bit when I said that I wanted to be a peacemaker. It sounds good. It is close to what I want, what I feel called to. I don’t really want what I’m being called to – but then I want nothing else. The idea of not doing what I’ve been put on this Earth for makes me sad. Nothing is more tragic than seeing someone waste her life thinking she has another day, another month, another year to start living it. I don’t want to be that person.

But then I don’t have a word for what I’m called to. That was why I consented to be part of the Process. I figured it would separate the wheat from the chaff. I figured out it would separate the signal from the noise and let me know what I was hearing. I figured if several of us listened together we’d hear better.

Turns out instead of boiling off the stuff that I don’t need, like skimming off the scum from chicken soup that you are reducing to juicy goodness, it just boiled everything over and spilled it on the floor. I didn’t know I had so much in me. I didn’t know that I can’t be contained to one denomination’s rules and rubrics. I didn’t know that one expression of faith wasn’t going to be enough for me. I didn’t know that this process would widen things up instead of narrowing them down.

I know God works through everything. I know that everything I go through is from a loving God who wants the best and is working with and through me to bring forth what is best. I also know it doesn’t feel very fun while it is happening.

Perhaps peacemaker is part of it. Perhaps I need to know what peace isn’t in order to understand what peace is. Recovering addicts make really good counselors. They’ve been there. They know. Perhaps I’ll know what my calling is when I get there. Perhaps God is treating me like I’m a secret agent. Not even I know my mission because that is for the best that way. Perhaps I just need to live my way into it and take one moment at a time, with trust.

Dude, I’m not kidding about the peppers.

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I have a food allergy. I’m not alone. People all over have things that they can’t eat. Sometimes the things they can’t eat are by choice – vegetarian, kosher. Sometimes the things are not by choice – gluten issues, IBS, celiac disease. Restaurants are coming slowly to understand that people aren’t kidding when they ask if something has an offending item in it.

But not always.

I am allergic to peppers. It took me years to figure out what the offending thing was. I’d eat something and get sick. I’d eat something else and be fine. I had to do a little sleuthing to figure out what the constant item was. Once I figured it out, I told my Mom and she said “Oh, your grandmother had the same problem.” She could have saved me a lot of trouble if she’d mentioned that, but that was par for the course.

Perhaps the issue is raw peppers. Raw onions are a problem too. Cooked, not so bad. And perhaps the issue is green peppers, and not red ones. I’m not sure. I’m not really excited about finding out. I don’t get sick to the point of death – it just feels like it. And my tolerance to it gets lower and lower each time.

My husband and I were out at a restaurant once and I’d said I couldn’t have peppers and he overheard the wait staff complaining about it later, that they thought it was a stupid allergy and I was just being picky. He was very very angry. It isn’t something I’ve chosen. I don’t want to have to be sick every time I eat peppers. I’m not excited about the fact that so many restaurants think that putting peppers into everything is the way to make anything have a taste to it. You can’t imagine how hard it is to pick something safe to eat these days.

If you are a server at a restaurant and you don’t understand what it is like to want to die because of something you’ve eaten, you need to stop being a server. If you don’t get that someone is serious about it, be grateful that you don’t have that food issue.

I went to a friend’s house and his Mom made gazpacho. I’d never had it. I didn’t know that it had raw onions and green peppers in it. I was very very sick. I was surprised. I was miserable. I learned the hard way what gazpacho was. Normally I can see the peppers or onions and I can pick them out. I pick out a lot of onions and peppers. I’m just used to it. But I can’t pick them out if they are liquefied.

This isn’t a sickness that causes death (I hope). I feel really ill. Everything gets a little weird. The colors get brighter, sounds get closer, and everything gets really intense. I have to take myself to a quiet area and lay down for about 30 minutes, and then the feeling passes. It is really intense. It is kind of like dropping acid, but without the fun part, and not for 8 hours.

Places think they have to spice everything up to make it tasty. It is like thinking all music has to be at 10 in order to hear it. If you only hear 10 all the time, then you’ll never appreciate 5. Food can be very tasty and not spicy. When restaurants put peppers in everything, then I’m left with nothing to eat.

I can have a little bit, but that little bit is getting smaller every year. I don’t know where the line is. It isn’t so bad that I can’t be exposed to peppers at all. It isn’t like the kitchen has to use separate utensils and cutting boards to make my meal. It isn’t like I can’t be exposed to them – I can have fajitas that have been cooked with peppers. I just pick them out. I can have salsa, but I just look carefully before I eat and don’t get the peppers. It is time consuming. It gets old. But it is what it is.

I won’t die from eating peppers, I think, but it sure doesn’t feel well. It is very painful and scary. Perhaps it isn’t an allergy, but a food intolerance. I say it is an allergy so people will take me seriously, but it doesn’t work.

I’ve learned there are some things that invariably have peppers in them. Anything with black beans. Spinach dip. Some veggie burgers. I’ve learned these things the hard way. Normally I can figure it out, but every now and then there is something that sounds promising but perhaps suspicious. I can ask, the waiter says no, and I wait 20 minutes for my food and it has peppers in it. I can tell. It is like an electric burn on my tongue. Then I dig around and find the peppers. Sometimes I just pick out the peppers. Otherwise I have to wait another 20 minutes for my meal to come, and by then I’m really hungry and miserable and my dinner companion’s food has gotten cold.

We went out to eat this Sunday, and it was 3 in the afternoon. We were tired and hungry. My meal had peppers all in it, after asking. I thought about picking them out, but I didn’t do that this time. I called over the waiter. I pointed out the raw green peppers. By this point I’m tired of it all. Sure, it was late in the day and I was on the weepy side of low blood sugar. But I’m also sick of telling people about a food allergy and being ignored. It isn’t something to screw around with. He apologized and got me the tilapia – something safe (usually). We waited and waited and it came and I was tired of the whole thing by then. My husband didn’t eat his meal. He waited for mine to come. His was cold by then and mine was very bland and boring but it was food. The manager came over and apologized and comped our whole meal. He understood because he too has a food allergy. He said they use peppers in almost everything there. We’ll never go back, which is sad because I’d heard such good things about the place.

Years back I went to a tex-mex place with a boyfriend. It was late in the day and he had to go to work. I’d asked the waitress if one item had peppers and she said no. I told her I was allergic. Turns out the other two items on my plate did have peppers. We didn’t have time to wait for it to be fixed. I just started crying. I was hungry and tired and frustrated. I just want to eat. I don’t understand why a waiter can’t understand that if I say I’m allergic to peppers, that means all peppers, in all dishes. Not just the dish I asked about. If there are peppers in the rest of the thing I ordered, then warn me before the order goes in.

Or better yet- put the ingredients on everything. That would save a lot of problems.

Kindergarten 9-25-13

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I was able to get to work with three children today, all of which I had before. It is amazing and delightful to see progress and disheartening to see them still stuck in some areas. Sometimes it isn’t school that is the problem. Sometimes there are home problems and school is the last thing on their minds.

V was much more focused today, which is encouraging. She likes to draw and make up stories. I’m totally for creativity, but when it is time to work we have to get cracking. She stayed working with me a lot longer this time and did great on her numbers. She still is a little wonky on her letters, but she is getting better.

At the end of my tutoring session today I found out from her teacher that yesterday was an entirely different story. Numbers were impossible. 5 fingers resulted in an answer as varied as 5, 2, and 8. But yesterday she also heard from V that her Mom was in the hospital. Mom is in the hospital because she is an alcoholic. This changes everything. Of course she is distracted. Of course she wants to make up stories. Who would want to focus when that is happening? When you are five your whole world revolves around your mom. If she isn’t well, then everything else falls apart. I will give her extra attention next week.

Sometimes what we give them isn’t learning, it is love. Sometimes the greatest thing is just to spend time with them, one on one, and let them shine. Sometimes the teacher will assign a new child to me just because something bad is going on at home. We work together on them, to help them get over the humps of life. Sometimes healing can come in the form of something as simple as reading a book together.

Today I also had S. He is a delightful Mexican boy, all smiles and sunshine. He worked hard and is doing well. I’m curious how long he will need me.

I only get the kids who are at the bottom. When they are doing better they go to the next tutor. I like the challenge of trying to figure out new ways to get the information into them. Fortunately the kids haven’t realized that there is a pattern to who I work with, so there isn’t a stigma. In fact, when I come on Wednesdays they all clamor to work with me. It is kind of cute. I try to make learning fun, so they just see it as a game. Sometimes when I “pick” a student (I don’t pick, the teacher provides a list for me) he or she will say “Yes!” and think this is great. This makes my job so much easier.

One of the students who gets excited when I “pick” him is J. I worked with him today as well. I think he might be dyslexic. I can tell learning is hard for him. I gave him easy things to work on to build up his confidence. We have a blue letter board that is really cool to work with. Letters are really hard for him, and he was mixing up h and n and u. I can understand that. They look at lot alike if they are flipped around.

Letters are hard. They are just symbols after all. We take for granted how easy it is to read, but really it hard because it isn’t a native intelligence. It is all symbols. This shape doesn’t “mean” this sound at all. There is nothing logical about it. It is rather arbitrary. Nothing drives this home more than teaching a five year old his letters.

At the end I wrote up my impressions. This helps the teacher know what are their strengths and weaknesses. Interestingly they will work differently with me than with her. She and I see different faces. When one is obstinate on one area with her, he will be perfect with me.

When I came in to return my impressions and pick up my keys, J hugged me. Hugs from kindergartners are so sweet. When I first got hugged three years ago I wasn’t sure what to do. I was caught off guard.

We have rules that we learn. Don’t touch strangers. Hold your emotions in.

Kindergartners don’t know these rules yet. Sure, they know me, a little. They know my name, and I work with them a little every Wednesday. But adults who know me better don’t hug me. It is just a social rule. We are a very hands-off kind of society.

But hugs from kindergartners are the best. They are so loving and open. I think the world would be a better place if we all had that kind of love and were able to show it. I think this may be the answer to everything.

Hug more. Cry when you are sad. Go play outside for an hour every day. Color. Take a nap with a teddy bear. Make up stories.

Maybe being a kindergartner is the secret to happiness.

Praying in color 9-23-13

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I’m not able to do this every day. Or, to be more honest, I don’t make time to do this every day. But here’s what I got recently. It is kind of like a fishing trip. Sometimes I get something, and sometimes I don’t.

For those of you who don’t know, “Praying in Color” isn’t my idea. I got the idea from a book of the same name. The idea is that you take out your pens or colored pencils and you doodle. You pray beforehand, with a specific prayer intention. It can be a prayer for a friend who needs it, or something for the world, or a specific question that you have that you need help with. While doodling, answers or feelings come back.

As for me, I write down my intention at the bottom on the back, and the answers above that. I’ll get answers throughout the process. I use watercolor pencils, and I’ll “paint” the finished piece afterwards if I feel like it. This is a good medium for me because it is quick – I can get something in about ten minutes. It is simply a way of accessing a different part of your brain so that God can get in.

I drew this piece on 9-23-13 after my second visit to the chiropractor. That is when I found out I have scoliosis, and a lot more visits (and a lot more expense) in my future. This is what I prayed about. How can I afford this? How do I deal with the pain? I feel like I never get ahead – that the moment I gain, something comes up and I go back again.

pray 9-23-13

The answers –
We hold on to the shore because we are afraid.
Even if you have nothing, you still have something.
This teaches us that good (art) can come out of bad situations.
“How many reminders do you need to know that I am with you?”

Sometimes the answers are just feelings, and sometimes they are direct words. Sometimes I write more than this, but I always know when it is over and time to stop. Here are my reflections on the answers:

Change is frightening to us, but if we don’t let go of the shore we’ll never learn how to swim. We are funny creatures – we hate change, but we also get bored easily so really we want change. We are never happy.

There is always something to be thankful for. Find it. Celebrate it. Even if you are without a house, you still have your life and your mind. If you aren’t thankful for what you have, how will you be thankful for anything else? Be thankful, and everything opens up.

Good comes out of bad. Pain is a great teacher. It focuses us. It limits us and forces us to decide what is important. Bad childhoods can result in careers where we choose to serve others, because we understand their pain. If everything stayed even all the time, we’d never have to grow or stretch or get stronger.

The last one says it all. God is constantly with us, and we constantly forget. God will never forsake us.

These are for sale if you are interested. Please comment with your information if so. They are about 4.5 inches by 6 inches, on watercolor paper. The price is whatever you would like to offer.

Bonsai Betsy

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I found out today that I have scoliosis. This is why the disc in my back slipped out of place last week. The bend in my back isn’t so bad that I’d noticed anything wrong before now. Now that I know, I can see the signs. The wear pattern on my shoes is a pretty good clue.

My chiropractor says I need three adjustments every week for about a month, then it will taper off and I won’t have to go as often. Even with insurance this will cost me $45 a visit. This is a lot of money, especially after all the other expenses I’ve had recently.

I’m not happy about having to spend more money right now. We’ve got money in savings but I like having more of a cushion for emergencies. I’ve got plenty of sick time and there are extra people in my department right now so I can take time for appointments. It is doable, but I’m not happy about it.

But I need my back. If my car didn’t work I could figure something out. I could get a ride to work, or I could borrow my husband’s car and he could take the bus to work. There are ways. But there is no getting around needing a spine that works correctly.

It isn’t like having crooked teeth and getting braces. Well, kind of it is. That too takes a long time and isn’t cheap, and it hurts. I had braces. I remember. But surgery isn’t recommended for what I have now, just adjustments. That alone is something to be thankful for.

Essentially the doctor is doing body-shop work on me. Essentially my body was in a very slow collision with life and gravity and possibly genetics. I need a front-end alignment on my back end. I’m a bonsai tree that hasn’t been tended properly.

I never knew I could amuse myself so much talking about my deformity.

I have a feeling that there is a punch line coming up. I have a feeling that there is a plan for all of this. I trust God. I know that everything has a reason, and everything happens because it is part of God’s plan.

I also know that sometimes we don’t get to see that reason, and sometimes we are the collateral damage.

People like resolutions. We like to know what the ending is. We like to know that the guy gets the girl and they both ride off into the sunset together. But God doesn’t work that way. God works in God’s time and in God’s ways and there is just no getting around that.

God isn’t in the storm. God is the still, small voice.

God never said this journey of life would be easy, but instead promised to always be with us.

This is really important to remember. Trusting God, loving God, serving God isn’t about everything being awesome all the time. In fact it can be pretty awful. But part of it means trusting that God is in charge, and God has a plan, and that everything will work out the way it needs to work out.

We often can’t see around the corner. We often live with uncertainty. We often don’t know what to do. So we pray, and God tells us, one instruction at a time.

Stay here. Move forward one step. Go this way. Stop. Wait. Move back one. Wait.

When Abraham started listening to that still, small voice, he did that in faith. When Noah built that ark and gathered up all the animals, he did that in faith. When Peter walked out on that water towards Jesus, he did that in faith.

This is what we do, when we walk with God. It isn’t easy. It is pretty scary sometimes. It is like walking on a tightrope, with our eyes closed, with no net.

Stuck – cars and bodies.

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My car won’t start. I’m waiting at home for AAA to take me to the dealership to get this figured out. It has happened off and on for several years. It will get fixed, then stop again. It is a little annoying. I’m trying to use everything I’ve learned to adapt to this. Be calm. Accept it. Don’t fight it. See it as a lesson.

Maybe there is a good reason I’m being kept at home right now. Maybe something bad would have happened if I’d gone on my errands today. I’m trying to trust God. I’m trying to be thankful f

Meanwhile I’m thinking about other things. There is a possibility that I might be stuck for a long time. I’m not talking about my car right now. There is a possibility that I have multiple sclerosis. I have several of the symptoms. When I went to the eye doctor two years ago she noticed that my eyes twirl in an odd way. It is called rotary nystagmus. It isn’t a disease. It is a symptom. The ophthalmologist, in standard Western doctor way, told me not to look up anything about it. She didn’t want me to be scared. She doesn’t understand that not knowing is far more frightening than knowing. At least with knowing, you can name what you are up against. You have a plan of action once you have a name.

It could be a brain tumor. It could be multiple sclerosis. It could be a side effect of my bipolar medicine. It could be nothing. It could be either something really horrible, or it could just be the way things are and this just has never been noticed by any of my previous eye doctors, ever. That part is unlikely. I go to eye doctors at least every two years.

I was sent to a neuro-ophthalmologist. Then I was sent to get an MRI. Nothing bad showed up. I’ve had a thyroid test too – fine. There are now other symptoms. My fingers have a slight tremor. I have a pins and needles feeling in my arms occasionally. I have vertigo every now and then. Nothing stays long enough to be of real interest, until something else pops up for me to wonder about.

There is no cure for it, so early detection won’t do me any good. And, standard Western medicine being what it is, it treats the symptoms rather than the cause. That treatment alone is painful and has unpleasant side effects. So I pulled open “Prescription for Nutritional Healing” – one of my favorite how-to books. It is like an owner’s manual for the machine that is the human body.

Fortunately I’m already doing some of what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m doing water aerobics and yoga. I’m eating seaweed. I’m headed towards being vegetarian.

But the most important thing I think I can do is accept it. Whatever it is. Learn from it. Maybe there is something just over the horizon that I would miss otherwise. I’m mindful of the Chinese story of the old man, the boy, and the horse. I’m mindful of Rumi’s “The Guest House”. (I have copies of these in my Resources folder.) Everything speaks to the idea of not judging, of accepting, of trusting. Everything also speaks about being with and in the moment, the now.

Perhaps I will eventually get to the point where I can’t walk. My body will be like my car – unresponsive. I’m trying to be OK with that. I’m trying to be thankful for that. I’m trying to be open to the lessons that God needs me to receive like that.

I’m breathing into it, just like with a deep yoga stretch. Just like with pigeon pose, I’m breathing into it, breathing into all the tight places.

Snakes, again. Trust the process.

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There is a part in the Gospels where Jesus says that if you are acting in accordance with the will of God, you cannot be harmed by snakes or poison. There are a tiny number of Appalachian churches that take this seriously and make handling snakes and drinking poison part of the worship service. Personally I find this missing the point.

It is taking the message far too literally, and in far too small a way. The message is for us to not be afraid of anything. If we are in alignment with God, nothing will harm us.

This doesn’t mean that we will never be hurt, never suffer, never be sick. Cancer kills Christians the same as atheists. Tornadoes flatten Christian homes the same as anybody else’s.

But remember the story of Daniel in the lion’s den? He refused to worship the king as his God. He didn’t obey the law of the land and was thrown in a pit with a hungry lion. He didn’t get eaten. He didn’t even get harmed. He was ok with the idea of being killed by the lion, however. Better to die obeying the heavenly king than to live following a mortal one.

Remember the story of Shadrach, Meschach and Abednego? They were thrown into a hot furnace because of their refusal to serve anyone but God. It gives me chills to read how the observers saw an angel in there with them.

Jesus is constantly telling us to not be afraid, constantly telling us that he will never forsake us. He tells us that he will be with us to the end of the age.

Are you afraid whether you are able to follow Jesus? He tells his disciples, then and now, to not worry about what to say, because the Holy Spirit will provide the words. He tells his disciples then and now to not worry about what we are going to eat or wear.

Remember the story about how they needed to pay the temple tax and Jesus tells Peter to go fish? What a crazy story. But it is to let us know that our needs will be provided for.

So if nothing can harm you if you are doing God’s will, how do you know if you are? How do you know if you are walking on the right path? You are. It may not seem like it sometimes, but if you are seeking God, you are on the right path.

Paul tells us that all things work together for good for those who follow God. This doesn’t mean that it is all wonderful. It means that everything is part of God’s plan. It may seem like you are being held back in some area – but in reality, God is keeping you from something worse.

Trust the process. The more we try to define that something is “good” or “bad”, the more trouble we make for ourselves. Try not to define it. Let it be. We humans have a hard time with perspective. We only see things right here and now, and how they affect us. God sees things in the eternal and the universal.

Isaiah tells us that whether we turn to the left or the right, God is with us. God is constantly with us, and for us. No matter where we go and what we do, nothing can separate us from the knowledge and love of God. Nothing.

Know that everything is going as it should, and that you are part of this plan.

All things work together for good.

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There is a song I heard on the radio this morning. The group is “Jesus Culture” and the song is “Your Love Never Fails.” The line that really got to me was “You make all things work together for my good.” It didn’t get to me in a good way. There was a very strong emphasis on the word “my.” And the verse didn’t sound right. So I looked it up.

Here’s the problem. That isn’t the verse. It is – “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (NIV, Romans 8:28) This was written by the apostle Paul.

There is a big difference in these lines.

Yes, God works for the good. Not your good, necessarily. Good. The good. The good of all. All things work out how they are needed to work out to fulfill the will of God.

I want to yell – stop having a self-centered theology.

God didn’t even rescue his own Son. Defiled, reviled, spat upon, abused. Killed in a gruesome, painful, agonizing way. For nothing. For raising the dead. For healing the broken. For letting people know that they have within them the ability to mend the brokenness in the world if they but call upon the Holy Spirit.

Now, this verse from Paul is very good. It is very healing and hope-fillled. It is a good verse to hold on to when things seem to be falling apart. Divorce. Job loss. Cancer diagnosis. House fire. Tornado. Death of a friend. These are all terrible things to go through.

This verse reminds us that it isn’t our plan that is important. It is God’s plan. Remember the Lord’s Prayer? We say “Thy will be done.” Not “My will be done.” The prayer is a reminder to ourselves that we aren’t in charge. Thank God for that. Look what we’ve done to mess this place up already. We don’t know what we are doing. We shouldn’t be left in charge. But we remind ourselves every time we say that prayer that God is in charge. We aren’t giving God the power – we are acknowledging that He has it. “For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever and ever. Amen.” It isn’t ours. It is God’s.

To say that God makes everything work out for our good isn’t true. We aren’t special because we love God. Yes, God loves us. God loves everybody. He went to the trouble of making everybody because He needs us and loves us. Sure, you are special, along with all 7 billion other people. Don’t start getting a big head about it. There has to be a balance – you are loved and special, but so is everybody else.

Let’s look at the story of Joseph, starting in the 37th chapter of Genesis. His brothers aren’t very nice to him, to put it mildly. He gets stripped of his cloak, thrown into a cistern and then sold off to traders who were headed to Egypt. It wasn’t looking very good there for him. His father was convinced by his brothers that he’d been mauled by a wild animal. He spent some time in jail because he was falsely accused to trying to entice his master’s wife. Eventually he got out and was seen as wise because he correctly interpreted a prophetic dream that Pharaoh had. Because of that dream he knew that a famine was coming and they had to conserve food.

Near the end of the story we find out that it all was for the good that all this bad stuff happened. In Genesis 45:4-7 (NIV) we hear “4 Then Joseph said to his brothers, “Come close to me.” When they had done so, he said, “I am your brother Joseph, the one you sold into Egypt! 5 And now, do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you. 6 For two years now there has been famine in the land, and for the next five years there will be no plowing and reaping. 7 But God sent me ahead of you to preserve for you a remnant on earth and to save your lives by a great deliverance.”

He forgave them. He told them that everything that he had been through had been so that his family would be saved. By extension, it meant that the entire future nation of Israel would be saved. If he hadn’t gone through that hard time, all the Jewish people would have failed to come into existence.

But he didn’t go through all that so that he, Joseph, would benefit.

There is a big difference.

God is awesome, and powerful, and amazing. But God doesn’t work things out so that we have a great life or an easy one. God does what God does because it needs to be done. We have to live through difficulties. If we love God, we trust Him. If we trust God, we know that it is all going to work out the way that it needs to. There is something Zen-like in this trusting, this faith. There is something very difficult and yet very easy about this. It seems very passive, but it is very active.