Choice

Sometimes I’m tempted to think that choice does not really exist.

Until I remember Eden.

Does God know all that will be?

Do we have choice?

How much?

Does He know what we will choose?

Does He know what He will choose?

How is it that when we truly want to choose God’s will we can end up so far away in another place?

Will we ever get to choose again?

What is prophecy?

Is it what will be chosen?

Or what should be chosen?

Or what we’re heading toward unless something changes?

I wonder how often God intervenes.

How exactly does God choose?

Does His choice override ours?

How often?

How many times are our choices made by not choosing?

How do other’s choices affect what I have to choose from?

How hard does God work to bring things back to His plan?

Or does He make another way?

Or are the detours His idea in the first place?

Or did He just know about them and incorporate them into His master plan?

Does He ever change His mind?

Do a lot of things He plans just not happen because we don’t move and choose along with Him?

How many times does He prompt us to choose?

How long does He wait?

How many things flow in and out of possibility the longer He waits?

If we choose according to His will is it an act of worship?

If we think we are choosing according to His will but we were wrong is it still an act of worship?

Is everything an exercise of choosing His will or is there freedom to choose among options and still be in His will?

Does it depend on whether or not He has called us to a specific path?

Is God ever disappointed in us?

What would Ezekiel say?

Is He ever angry with us?

What would Jeremiah say?

Does He ever remove from us the blessings He has promised us?

Why did He say Jerusalem would not fall, and yet it did fall?

Does he overpower our will and our faculties and our ability to choose sometimes?
What would Nebuchadnezzar say?

Will God redeem our poor choices?

What does that look like? Undoing them?  A change in direction? A new beginning? A new creation? A new plan?

Or did He know all along that we would make wrong choices and even in our acts of disobedience or weakness or confusion does He choose to bless us even as He disciplines us?

Is the best choice to let God choose for us?

Or does a greater union exist where when we yield to God so fully and so purely He can entrust us with the freedom to choose in righteousness?

How do we enter into that?

Does He experience joy in our co-creating with Him?

Is that what it looks like when freedom and creativity and power and beauty find their full expression?

Is that what Eden was supposed to be like?

Did God open up the opportunity for sin and redemption simultaneously?

What if the tree was staked before the apple was ever picked?

I wish I had Eve’s opportunity.

Might I have chosen differently?

Of course not.  We would have all chosen the same thing that Eve did. 

Says who?

But what about Adam? What about the Snake?  What about God?

How much did their choices impact the outcome of the story?

What if they had chosen differently?

Or didn't they have choices?

What if we're the apple in the story?

I wonder what answers Moses, who never entered the Promised Land, might have to my questions.

I wonder how Samson, who bore fruit only in death might have a different perspective.

I wonder what David would have to say about choice, as he prayed God might change His mind about his baby’s death. Would he have the same view as Hezekiah?

What could Pharaoh teach us about how much choice we have over a hardened heart?

Did Peter feel like he was set up to fail? Did he ever have a choice not to deny Christ?

Can we choose differently even after a prophecy has been given?

Is there power in the mere utterance of a prophecy? 
What would Balaam say to that?
Does Joseph believe that every step was ordained or could there have been another way to the fulfillment of the prophecy?

How would Ruth understand the course her life took? Was Boaz always on the horizon or was that birthed only after she chose to follow Naomi's God?
What does it mean that Esther was Queen "for such a time as this?"

I wonder if when asked these questions, they might even disagree with each other in their answers.

Oh, but that’s silly now, isn’t it?

Or is it?

Photos by Bgrace

There's only one place I want to write from.  It's not the only place I do write from, but it's the only place that I should write from. 

It's that place somewhere in the middle of your chest that every once in a while feels like it opens all the way up and if you reached in you could reach forever and never find the end of it.  And somehow, someway the very core of you is open and vulnerable, except that you're in the presence of God and so your safe and no harm can touch you.  You find yourself smack in the middle of reverance, of sacredness, of dread awe.  You don't want to move because you're afraid you might lose it, but you know that it is precisely out of this place that you must move.

Help me to stay there.

Help me to move there.

Help me to be there.

Sometimes

...beauty lies in the imperfections.

Sarah crawled into bed next to me this morning. We had all slept in and the sun was glowing through the curtain next to the bed and warming us with soft light. She smiled sweetly up at me and studied my face. Then she pointed to my cheek and said, "Mom, what are dese?" I sighed and asked, "You mean these lines on my face?" She nodded. "They're wrinkles," I said. "Why?" she asked. "Because I smile a lot," I answered.

"What are dose on Daddy's back?" she asked as she pointed to his skin. "Those are beauty marks," I said of his moles and freckles. "Why?" she asked. "Because he's very beautiful," I chuckled. Then I told her she better go give him a kiss (which is a sneaky way of getting him to wake up in a good mood.) It worked...until Sam came in and mauled him.

Later this morning I made my way up to the gardens and noticed these two distorted flowers sort of spooning each other. They just seemed more interesting than the perfectly splayed ones next to them. Purple blossoms focused in the same direction, one leading, one covering. The soft light warming their folds. More beautiful in their imperfections. Spending the moment in movement together.

The Best Possible Place

I just spent two days at a prayer conference listening to a woman named Marilyn Newburg. I heard a lot of things I needed to hear again. And I heard a few things for the first time. But the most important thing that happened was that I came to blinding clarity of where I am at right now.
The Lord has asked me to put myself in the best possible place to hear Him. He's given me specific instructions as to how I am to discipline myself. And He's told me why, and what will come from it when I do. I actually know His purposes and I know what it will produce. (Perhaps not everything, but I know more than I could without revelation.) He's told me what He will do, and He has shown me my part in it.
I have been given every possible motivation and you know what I feel?
Completely paralyzed.
But I know the only way I want to go from here is forward.
So I am praying that God will strengthen me in my inner being. I do not have in me what I need in order to do His will on my own. I need His help. I need to change. I need to become. I need to yield. I need to grow.
I need prayer.
Thank you for yours.
B

Another Field Trip

Fallen Tree by Alexandre Calame

(photo taken at Smithsonian today)

I had a field trip today. Well, it was actually a few hours of play tacked onto a business trip. My Brazilian Passport was ready and for whatever reason it has to be picked up in person at the Brazilian Embassy, so I made my way to DC this morning. Jean had the girls, so I decided to make a day of it and have some alone time. I like to do Art Museums that way. It's easier to absorb the art in solitude. So after I picked up my passport I decided to wing it and try to find the Smithsonian AND a parking garage. Quem tem boca vai a Roma. (It's a Brazilian expression that loosely translated means if you have a mouth you can find your way to Rome.)

Well, I found the nearest parking garage to the Smithsonian, which wasn't actually all that near. Normally this would not have bothered me, but I hurt my Achilles on Monday at my hip hop class and I have to walk without bending it right now. Thus, I have a fairly cumbersome limp. It doesn't hurt that much, so I decided to brave the walk.

When I have times of solitude, I try to center myself with the Lord and let all the chaos and noise fall to the wayside and really try to hear. So on the way down I drove in the quiet and tried to pray a bit. I remember asking the Lord what this time, this season is about right now. Certain symbols tend to characterize time periods for me, a few years ago it was a cross, but for the last couple of months I've been very drawn to fleur de lis. In some ways it has signified for me a period of sanctification. I acknowledged to the Lord that I know this has been a time where He is teaching me discipline. But I also complained a little bit--this whole discipline thing has been so hard for me that I struggle to feel as close to God. There are times when I just don't want to be so disciplined, and it seems like it's not worth it compared to just being with Him. It feels like its always there, reminding me of how much work needs to be done. I thought about the word devoted--I wondered how devotions came to be called that. Probably because if you were truly devoted to God you wanted to BE with Him. I want to be devoted, not feel like I have to "have devotions!" I feel a bit frustrated, because I don't feel like this is coming very easily, and sometimes I struggle to see the point of it.

I tell you this, because as I left the parking garage and began to walk to the Smithsonian, I again tried to quiet my mind and listen to the Lord. I had been trying all day, it was noon and I hadn't heard anything. I was beginning to feel a bit restless--normally on my solitude days God gives me a bit more. But as I began limping along, God finally whispered a thought into my mind. He said, "How does it feel to have a handicap?"

The question hit me right between the eyes. I knew immediately what God was saying. I was slowed down by my limp. I was awkward. It was beginning to be painful. It was hindering me.

Then I felt His tenderness. It was like He was saying, this discipline that you are learning, this process that I'm asking you to go through, learning to die to the flesh, learning to take things out of your life that you don't need, and put into your life things you do need, learning to live with empty spaces--it's so that you can move without hindrances.


I understood God's kindness. It's not because God is requiring me to be some religious zealot. Not because I'm bound by rules and regulations. Exactly the opposite. He's teaching me to be free. He's strengthening me. He's purifying me. And today, He helped me to see the motivating factor behind it all.

I've prayed for God to use me. I've prayed that He would use my life to great effectiveness. In powerful ways. But I've also prayed that God would never give me power without purity and love. I've seen the abuse of it--and I can't stand the thought of it. Those things must come first. And I know that He is answering me. But I need to continue to keep that before my eyes. To focus on the WHY. Lest I forget and think this is about food. Or simple self-denial. Or rules.


Thank you for teaching me Jesus.

Thank you for beautiful paintings.

And the people that paint them.

Space

It's interesting. I've been feeling a strange pain the last few days. But I haven't been able to put my finger on it. It's not a pervasive one. In fact I don't notice it until all is quiet. Which frankly isn't very often--my few trips alone in the car in silence; right before I go to bed or when I wake up. It's not a pain I could connect to anything in particular. Until tonight.
For the past week I've kept to my eating plan really well. (Except last night--but I had permission and needed fish, so two of my closest girlfriends and I splurged at Devons.) What's been strange is that it hasn't been hard. Not nearly as hard as it was before. Like the Lord has helped me get over the hump or something. Tonight, I didn't really feel full, and thought maybe I should eat something more, but nothing really appealed to me, so I brushed my teeth so I wouldn't graze, knowing that I would be feeling on the empty side.
Matt's been exhausted so I tucked him in early and then went to sit with Sarah until she fell asleep. I was itching for something. Like a good novel, or video, or even mindless TV. I didn't really feel like reading my Bible or studying or even praying, in an "I'm too restless to concentrate" sort of way. Being quiet with the Lord felt almost uncomfortable. Like I wanted something more but I didn't think I'd get it.
Since Sarah was taking her time falling asleep, I decided to pray through it. As I was thinking about my food, and the emptiness I felt, I realized it was the same restlessness I was feeling emotionally. Like none of the options before me were appealing, but I was still wanting something. But nothing felt better than reaching for just anything.
Finally I began to see the source of my pain. It's the emptiness. I'm being stretched in this way beyond what I'm used to. Food is just one of the ways. I've been trying to figure out the feeling of distance I have right now with God. The last few months have been almost like a dream. I can't explain to you the wonderful experiences and gifts that have been poured out on me and my family. Underlying it all is just a great sense of joy and contentment and BLESSING. But recently I've noticed a change in my spirit. Like an uncomfortableness in the midst of it--a sort of distance. Not a distance caused by sin or lack of interest. An emptying. A making of space.
What God is teaching me is the discipline of not filling the space--even with "God stuff."
Not with food, or movies, or even Bible reading.
It's actually painful.
But now that I realize it is a good pain I can lean into it and ask the Holy Spirit to use it to do His work in me.
I'm trying to sit with God in the quiet. Not expecting or waiting for Him to speak. And practicing not even trying to speak to Him just to fill space. Because now I understand what the lesson is. I'm letting all that pulls me lose its power until I am at rest and in peace in the open space. I wrote something about this a long time ago I need to dig up. Later. Now I'm going to go feel the emptiness.
It's a good thing.

Composing

Vulnerable, unedited by Bgrace

You ask me to walk in dark places

You call me to be your light

Lord, will not the darkness taint me?

Shall I not be consumed?

For my heart is corruptible

My body destructible

My spirit so vulnerable, so easily wounded.

How can I stand?

And then I heard her sing:

I will not be moved. And I'll say of the Lord,

You are my Shield

My Strength

My Portion

Deliverer

My Shelter

Strong Tower

My very present help in time of need.*

*Lyrics in italics are from

Hillsong United, You Are My Shield

Yesterday, I was standing in church having a hard time worshipping. It wasn't exactly the state of my heart. It's just that I've become hyper sensitive to worship leaders drawing us so much into their experience of worship that it's hard to have your own. There is something about it that feels manipulative. I truly don't believe that is their intention. And I'm sure I've been guilty of the same thing in the past. But it doesn't change the fact that there are moments when I don't feel like I can honestly participate. (One of the things I really appreciate about Matt, the Worship Pastor, is that he has a gift for not intruding on people's spiritual space to worship--he wasn't there yesterday.) But I digress.

So instead of singing, my thoughts turned to the conversation I was having with Matt (my husband) on the way to church. I was sharing with him about some things that have been going on at work. I really do believe the Lord has led me there, and I love my job, but sometimes the darkness I encounter when I'm there overwhelms me. Honestly, it's really hard not to get drawn into it all.

My frustration with the situation turned itself into a prayer, and the lines sort of found a rythm I wanted to remember, so I sat down, fished some paper and a pen out of my purse and became oblivious to everything else around me. I finished writing the last question and the chorus of the song being sung broke into my thoughts. I realized it was the perfect answer to the question I had just written.

My heart opened itself tenderly, realizing that the Lord had answered me and met me in a very personal way. I was able to respond in a spontaneous and deeply meaningful worship.

It reminded me of Ken's hand dance of reciprocity. He put his hands up and first moved his right hand--it was more agile, more flexibe in it's dance compared to the left hand. But the left hand was often stronger, steadier--helpful in supporting so the right hand could be free. He moved his hands beautifully and created a meaningful picture of how one hand moves and encourages a response in the other which in turn moves the other hand to respond to it. It can be a picture of people in relationship, or a picture of us in relationship with God.

I moved toward God and He responded, then He moved in response to me and created a response in me.

That's what it's like to dance with someone.

That's what it feels like when I write.