Monday, August 30, 2010

Be careful what you ask for

Monday morning.

As I got into my car this morning all I could think about was how much I would rather be reading this book I started last night (Streams of Living Water by Richard Foster).  A pretty typical Monday morning thought.  I turn on the car and start driving to work, but I can already tell that my car is handling in a strange way.  Sometimes you can just feel the changes even if you're unable to articulate them.  Something was wrong, but I hoped that it was just the tires interacting with the new rain on the road from last night.

Several blocks later I start hearing a thumping noise.  Uh oh.  That's a problem.  I pull into the Roth's parking lot to inspect and there is a fine specimen of flat tire looking back at me.  How perfect for a rainy Monday morning, right?
An incredibly nice man in the parking lot offered to put my (rusty) spare on for me.  He must have seen the lost and confused look in my eye.  Sometimes that look comes in mighty helpful, because while I'm sure I could change a flat tire if necessary, there's absolutely no guarantee that it wouldn't take me several hours to do so. 

I drive straight to Les Schwab and have them check the tire.  What do you know, looks like someone decided to slash my tire last night.  Maybe they were upset the weekend was coming to a close??  No way to repair it and vandalism isn't covered on the warranty.  Excellent.

I sat in the waiting area at Les Schwab as I received a text from my brother.  He wanted to know how I was doing with the whole thing.  Honestly, I felt great, relaxed and peaceful.  In fact, I think it's more than irony that I asked to be able to read my book this morning and got just that, a mini-vacation.  Which makes the whole morning more of a blessing than anything else.  Interesting how God works.

I find myself in the overflow of God's love and provision this morning.  Flat tire and all. 

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Full life or Full schedule?

A full schedule does not equal a full life.

There I am, sitting in a park, reading a phenomenal book (Bittersweet by Shauna Neiquist) and BAM, convicted.  Is my frantic schedule really the asset I sometimes see it as?  Or is over scheduling and filling in every time slot really just a sickness?  The point hit hard, especially when I realized that I time slotted "reading a book" into my schedule between appointments lest I waste any part of my day...

Here's a snippet from the book:

"I love it when a day's activities stack up on top of each other perfectly, from breakfast to work to lunch to grocery shopping to coffee, all the way through till I fall into bed.  I love days when you're always leaving something early to arrive just a touch late at the next place, like pearls on a string or Tarzan swinging on vines, feed never touching the ground.

Or really, I love the idea of that way of living, so I sign myself up for it every chance I get.  And then I realize in the moment that it isn't what I wanted at all.  After a while, I'm frantic and tired and not really listening when people are talking.

I've been around this block a thousand times.  I'm ravenous, and life looks to me so sparkly and beautiful, waiting to be devoured like a perfect apple.  So I say yes, yes to everything.  It's so delicious, and I don't want to miss out on even one moment of it.  And that's the point.  I miss all sorts of sacred and significant moments, because of my frantic insistence that I can do it all, and that I don't have to miss anything."

This whole lesson dovetails with another chapter in the book about realizing who is on your "Home Team".  The people you're closest to, the ones who let you see them without makeup on and feel comfortable enough to get themselves a glass of water in your house without asking.  These are the people that should be the priority, but sadly that's not always the case.  Sometimes I allow those who "need" me or those who persistently ask for my time to take all of my free time instead of pouring into my Home Team first. 

So perhaps it's time for me to sit down and figure out exactly who is on my Home Team, and create a little more dead space in my weeks.  Waking up and dreading days because of never-ending activities isn't working out.  It's time to work on intentional scheduling and intentional relationships (with fewer people).

Friday, August 27, 2010

Chinks in the armor

It's amazing what tidbits of information can literally take your breath away.  Leave you completely unaware of your surroundings--suspended in time and space.  And then, just like that, you're back where you were, but now your heart is filled with an indescribable anxiety.  An overwhelming sense of dread.

There are vulnerable spots in my armor.  Small chinks--sometimes seemingly invisible.  Spots raw with insecurity or fear.  Highly susceptible to certain bad news. 

And before I really know what happened, there I am.  Lost in a sea of anxiety.  Literally struggling to breathe in and out, but obviously I do.  And each breath gets easier.  Almost like the waves crashing onto the shore.  I reach out and Jesus takes my hand again.  I stand up out of the dirt and brush myself off.  His peace slowly erodes the anxiety and dulls the sharp edges, just like the ocean and glass bottles.  

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Buying a house

It's only Wednesday night, but enough has happened in the last three days to fill at least an entire week.  According to me.

It's another one of those "transitional" periods in my life.  Time to buy a house.  No need to "wait until I'm married", I can comfortably do this now.  So why not?  It took me a year to warm up to the idea, but I got there and with the help of a great real estate agent, I started looking at houses.

At least 20 houses and 1 failed offer later, I put an offer on a short sale in the neighborhood near Salem Alliance.  I was pleasantly surprised with the house.  I didn't expect much (they didn't post any pictures of the inside of the house online, so I assumed the worst), but the inside and the charm of it all blew me away.  The problem was that it was a short sale.  I could potentially be waiting months for an answer, most of all any response to my offer.  Good thing God had given me a peace about it, and even better because the wait gave me ample time to deal with other issues in my life at the time.

Almost exactly one and a half months after I submitted my offer, I got the written acceptance from the bank.  Monday morning, 8am.  Surprise!  Time to move full speed ahead.  Within minutes my real estate agent was scheduling a home inspection (for Tuesday morning) and contacting my mortgage broker.  We were in business.

No movement at all for a month and a half, and now it seems like we're making up for lost time.  Like life hit the fast forward button. 

A home inspection and subsequent contractors estimates to deal with serious issues are just some of the surprises this week has held so far.  Closing has been set for September 17.  The reality is setting in.

I could be a homeowner in less than a month.  Less than a month.  I've never felt as much like an adult as I do now.  Life is definitely never dull.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Walk Breaks

While running, taking walk breaks almost seems like cheating.  I've struggled through many long runs determined to finish without stopping.  In fact, that was generally my "goal".  Needing to stop was a sign of weakness and a lack of motivation, in my eyes.

The "run/walk" idea is not a new concept for me.  When I decided to train for a marathon I did my research.  I read many books, surfed the web for advice, and talked to friends who had been there before.  Walking just wasn't my thing.  How could I incorporate walking into runs where the goal was "no stopping"?  So I stored the idea away until last week.  In an episode of sheer desperation, trying break through some mental walls in my training, I figured I would give it a try.  I would let go of the stigma I held about walk breaks and break my long runs into more manageable chunks at the same time.

It worked. 

They've actually done studies on the run/walk concept; running and walking use different muscles in different ways.  Taking walk breaks in intervals reduces the risk of injury, gives your muscles a break, and can ultimately allow you to increase your race speed.  And I found that walk breaks allow for moments of sheer bliss.  Not being able to stop smiling at mile 12 (of 15) is one of those undeniable side effects.

Sabbath is the walk break.

Six days of work, obligations, and responsibilities can strain your mental, emotional, and spiritual muscles just as much as running.  The Sabbath is a day for resting and being refilled by God--in preparation for the coming week. 

You might be able to run the whole distance if you really focused and tried hard, but you're going to be really tired and worn out when you get to the end.  And if you're anything like me, the longer you try to keep going without stopping, the more daunting the future miles look. 

I started observing the Sabbath two years ago.  I did okay until I got a job with a weird schedule.  The ever-changing days off made it difficult for me to follow through and the habit didn't have enough time to really set in.  During a great conversation with a good friend a couple of weeks ago, I was reminded of Sabbath.  I couldn't figure out why I hadn't kept on with the practice, but all of a sudden my frequent feelings of being overwhelmed and suffering through weekends that left me feeling more tired than I had started them made perfect sense.  To me, Sabbath = peace.  And I'm all about moments of peace. 

I'll admit that my Sabbath routine hasn't been fully set yet.  I'm still experimenting and learning how to fill my day.  I've had some great conversations with friends about what they do and why they do what they do, and I'm encouraged already.  Anticipating the great rewards of spending a day focused on God and not my to-do list.

Sabbath is a time to rest in God.  To focus solely on being His child and nothing else.  A time to be refilled to overflowing.  A chance to sit at Jesus' feet and bask in the beauty of His creation.  A beautiful, peaceful day that restores the frazzled, overworked, and overwhelmed person within.  And an opportunity to commune with the One who loves me unconditionally.

Sabbath is truly a gift from God; something that God knew we would need, but we're foolish enough to pass up more often than not.

There's absolutely no shame in taking a walk break.

Do you have a Sabbath routine?  What do you do?

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Perspectives

I made an offer on a house several months ago, at the time it seemed perfect and I couldn't imagine a better house. The offer was declined and I had to deal with the fact that it wasn't "meant to be" as they say. I actually dreamed about the seller calling me and accepting my offer when he realized how foolish he had been to turn me down (even my real estate agent agreed!). Sadly, that call never came. About two months later I decided to get back on the horse and keep looking. I wasn't convinced that I would find anything that rivaled the first house, but amazingly I did. In fact, the second house was even better than the first one. I fell in love with it. Then I found out it was a short sale.  Per my personality, I went for it anyway.

Now, a month and a half later, I'm still waiting on my offer, hoping that this house will be mine someday.  Biding my time until the bank makes up its mind. Patience and peace begin to mingle together as I wait.

On Monday, the seller from the first house called me at work. He was, as I had once dreamed of, willing to accept my offer on his house. He asked me if I was interested.  I thought about it for a few seconds and I knew; I'm not interested anymore. I found a better fit, and while there is no guarantee that the short sale house will even work out in the end, the knowledge that a better fit for me exists out there is all the reassurance that I need.  I truly wanted that first house a few months ago, an now I'm never even interested.

It really got me thinking though. The idea that perspectives can change so abruptly, that dreams may only be dreams for the present or until something better comes along. I wear my feelings on my sleeve. I love hard and deep. I don't get there easily, but when I do its powerful. Losing one of my "dreams" is always overwhelming in the beginning.  Sadness and loss are powerful emotions. But time does work-- and if nothing else it allows for perspectives to change naturally and expectations to regulate themselves.

Changed perspectives can give some poignant reminders of a life that no longer exists. Some dreams morph into something better and others just end. Life isn't the same six months later--sometimes its better and sometimes its worse, but it's always different.  And even I realize the sanity in that statement.  The logic is reassuring.  Change and adaptation create new and unique possibilities, unrivaled by stagnation.  We're better off in the end, even though it hardly seems like that in the beginning.  That's the beauty of change.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

The Land Between

The number of times (within the last three weeks) that I've heard messages and been led to the passages in the Bible on the Israelites in the desert of Sinai isn't coincidental.  God's showing me something: it's time to start my journey out of the desert, but there are a few things I still need to learn and to pack up before we can go.

A marathon is a great example of stamina and determination.  As a highly disciplined person myself, I figured all I needed to do was set some goals, go on my runs, and the marathon would just happen.  I haven't run the marathon yet, in fact, I'm in the middle of my training plan.  And I'm tired, and burdened, and incredibly unmotivated to continue on.  Life is a lot the same way.  I'm past the exciting beginnings right now, and the end is nowhere in sight.  I'm lost in "the middle" and I'm quickly, if not already, running out of steam.

I don't think I've ever heard a better description of "the middle" than Shauna Niequist, in her book Bittersweet:

"There is nothing worse than the middle.  At the beginning, you have a little arrogance, loads of buoyancy.  The journey, whatever it is, looks beautiful and bright, and you are filled with resolve and silver strength, sure that whatever the future holds, you will face it with optimism and chutzpah.  It's like the first day of school, and you're wearing the outfit you laid out last night, backpack full of perfectly sharpened yellow pencils.

And the end is beautiful.  You are wiser, better, deeper.  You know things you didn't previously know, you've shed things you previously clung to.  The end is revelation, resolution, a soft place to land.

But oh, the middle.  I hate the middle.  The middle is the fog, the exhaustion, the loneliness, the daily battle against despair and the nagging dear that tomorrow will be just like today, only you'll be wearier and less able to defend yourself against it.  The middle is the lonely place, when you can't find words to say how deeply empty you feel, when you try to connect but you feel like thick glass is separating you from the rest of the world, isolating and deadening everything."

The land between, the middle, the place where prayer doesn't seem to do anything.  It's a land fertile for complaints and emotional meltdown, but it's also fertile for God's provision and transformational growth.

I heard a fantastic message by Jeff Manion last week called The Land Between while I was at the Leadership Summit.  He was speaking on the Israelites and their journey in the desert of Sinai. It's a message that made an indelible impact on me, and while I haven't read Jeff's new book The Land Between, it's already in my Amazon cart.

God had a plan for the Israelites, but they weren't ready for the Promised Land yet--they weren't ready to be God's people.  So God gave them time in the desert to learn how to trust and obey.  Isn't that just what the Land Between is for?  A perfect opportunity to see past the pain of "the middle" and learn how to trust God right where we are?  It's where we learn how to pray and how to depend.  Where choices of the heart need to be made that will determine who we will be outside of the desert.

The space in your life that you most resent is the place where God is doing his richest and deepest work.  Painful and messy, honest and raw, but also beautiful and redemptive work is being done right there.  Instinctively you want to run away, but you shouldn't.  Change isn't an automatic process, and time does not heal all wounds. 

I'm still in the desert, learning how to trust.  If I can't trust here, then how will I trust there?  Where are you?  Are you journeying through the Land Between too?

I'll end this post with the benediction that Jeff gave at the end of his message, a beautiful sentiment of hope for those in the desert.

May God bless you in the Land Between. May you guard your heart. May trust grow. May our gracious God who knows what we need provides it when we need it… may He restore our laughter, increase our joy and may we find Him present and good.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Quietly wait

Psalms 62:5 "Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in Him."

Quietly.

Wait.

Is this difficult for anyone else?

I was challenged with the idea that God gives you an answer for all of your prayers.  If you didn't feel like you had an answer it was either because 1) you relationship with God isn't right or 2) you were given an answer that you didn't want to hear and dismissed it or 3) your question had already been answered and you forgot.

I pushed back from this idea almost immediately.  But why?  Surely not because I want to accept the idea of "unanswered" questions.  But because if God really does answer, then how do I continue justifying my "Well, I haven't heard my answer from God yet..." responses?

Then I read this verse and the idea was posed.  "What if I don't 'hear' my answer because I never really bother to listen?" Ouch.  Communication is definitely a two-way road.  And for a long time I've been doing a lot of the talking.  Perhaps it's time to pose some questions and then take the time to actually listen.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

The Dessert of Disappointment

Dis-ap-point
Verb: to fail to fulfill the expectations or wishes of; to defeat the fulfillment of (hopes, plans, etc.)

Life can be full of disappointments, it all depends on your expectations.

I don't know why I didn't make this connection until today.  Control, worry, and disappointment are more intertwined than I knew.

I have a tendency to want control.  Over my life, my choices, my relationships, my finances, etc.  My desire for control usually leads to unrealistic expectations, which generally leads to unnecessary worrying about possible disappointments.

I spent my morning on one of my long training runs.  Long runs aren't my favorite, but to train for a marathon one must have a fair share of discipline.  I just keep reminding myself that it will be worth it in the end.  Unfortunately today I struggled through the entire run.  Unable to motivate myself enough to run, I actually walked more than half of the distance.  Frustration over what I quickly deemed a "failed" run and my inability to manage and control my thoughts left me sobbing through most of the rest.  I was overwhelmed by disappointment.  I had bigger expectations for myself.  I wanted better, more.

I've always expected a lot out of myself.  I aim high and shoot higher.  I'm not a newbie to setting unrealistic expectations for myself and others around me.  And I'm definitely not new to feeling the sting of disappointment either.
It would be really easy to cap this off and say that the lesson to my morning "mishap" would be to set more realistic expectations for myself.  But now I see that setting expectations will soothe the hurt, but not solve the problem.  The base problem is control.  Control of my life and my circumstances.

If I can truly relinquish my control to God and fully trust that He has even better things in store for me than what I can plan myself, I believe the unrealistic expectations will start to disappear.
Unfortunately for me that's like God asking me to lie in the middle of a busy street.  The idea is daunting.  My immediate response is to run and lock the doors to my life that I still feel the need to control.  It's risky and it's gutsy, and I'm still a little hesitant to take the first step.  But I must obey.  Josh talked on Joshua 3 at church this weekend about the fearful and disobedient Israelites who God punished by refusing entrance to the Promised Land.  Their children got a chance at the Promised Land as well, but to get it they had to step out into the water, literally, to show their obedience.  Not just get their feet close to the water and wait for the miracle to show itself, they literally had to step out with faith and obedience and then watch God do great things.  

It's time for me to step in the water.  To open the rest of my doors and let go of all of my unrealistic expectations for life.  Otherwise I'm doomed to continue wandering around the desert of disappointment.

Life is a journey of obedience, trust, and faith.  And God holds the only map.