Tempering Politics

If there's one thing I've learned from this, my first real foray into American politics in this campaign year, it is how truly polarizing the election process can be. When I wrote my first-ever political post back in early January, I was encouraged by the healthy, robust dialogue that emerged on this site. Through the course of 55 comments (the most I've ever racked up on one post), we asked questions, shared thoughts and impressions, and openly acknowledged how we'd historically involved ourselves in these dealings. It was honest, and it was respectful, and I felt proud to name myself a member of this thoughtful, authentic community.

But the more involved I've become in this election season, the more I've seen the other side that can creep out. Feelings can run high, and feelings can get hurt. In the heartfelt zeal that grows as we align ourselves on either side of the fence, we see how easy it is to run roughshod over someone else. We forget that the freedom we personally enjoy to think through the issues, apprehend and evaluate the candidates, and integrate the different policies with our faith convictions . . . is the same freedom other people enjoy to form a different opinion and cast a different vote.

I am all too familiar with how easily impassioned we can become for a cause we believe in, because I experience that passion myself. Sometimes it keeps me up at night. Sometimes it addicts me to the newsfeeds and video clips. Sometimes it makes me want to scream. And sometimes, honestly, it depresses me.

But at this point, I've come to believe that the remaining 7 weeks are not meant to benefit those of us who've already decided how we will vote on November 4. I don't believe there is one ardent McCain-Palin fan who will cross to the other side in the remaining weeks. I don't believe one Obama-Biden supporter will ever reconsider the way they've chosen to cast their vote. No. These 7 weeks are meant for the undecided, for those still weighing their options and still determining what factors are indeed most important to them.

I try to remember this when the chaos of the crazy-making media get me all stirred up, and when I encounter people I care about who have chosen a different vote to cast than I have. I try to remember that it's not my job to convince someone else my way, and it's certainly not my job to castigate, insult, or inflame another human being. Rather, it's to respect, and to let go.

 

And then to watch a video like this one, which reminds me how great, wide, and diverse is this country, and how much more united we are than divided. (Warning: this is a video produced by the Obama campaign.)

 

 

Reflections on Spring Arbor: Week One

I've just finished my first full week of school in the spiritual formation program at Spring Arbor and thought it would be worthwhile to share some of my thoughts and impressions at the outset of this new experience.

First, I am struck by the journey it took to get here. I hadn't thought much about this until one of my classmates posted on the discussion board about his own long journey to this program, a journey that included application and even entrance into several programs over the course of many long years, always to have the journey into each of those places interrupted for some reason or another.

I can really relate to the heartache of that reality. I worked hard to get accepted into the University of Missouri's graduate English program in 2003 and then had to turn the acceptance down. I researched several other English programs in 2004, even flying to visit some of them, and finally narrowed it down to a school that ended up phasing out its master's program in favor of the straight-PhD track (which I hadn't applied for). And in this past year, you've all watched Kirk and I anticipate and take steps toward a huge move to California as we applied for a spiritual formation program there, only to find God nudging us to stay here in Florida. It's heartbreaking, the physical and emotional work that goes into a grad-school decision that ends up fizzling out.

It's pretty much a huge, precious gift to my heart to be finally here, studying a subject that feels like home to my heart.

And speaking of the subject matter, it is hands-down amazingness. Yesterday, I read three chapters in Robert Mulholland's Invitation to a Journey that talked about how our personality preferences impact the ways we approach and relate to God and how important it is to develop a holistic spirituality beyond the one-sidedness of our instinctive preferences. Today I learned from Henri Nouwen in his book Out of Solitude about the importance of making quiet and sacred space in the journey toward serving others. Specifically, I was struck by the idea that Jesus received the work of His ministry through the time He spent in solitude with the Father, so that He was truly able to say, "The words that I speak to you I do not speak on My own authority; but the Father who dwells in Me does the works" (John 14:10).

This has been a really powerful and helpful notion to think about, as this week I've been struggling with the fog. For me, the fog represents a period of active waiting on the Lord for the work He has for me to do. I feel restless and impatient to receive it, and even somewhat ashamed that all I am doing right now is going to school. I feel a strength rising up in me to do something with my life, and yet I have no clear directive to get started now. I am in a greater hurry than God is. But then, how great an encouragement this message from Nouwen's book then is. It teaches me to see this time as a time set apart in a solitude of sorts, speaking to the Father and learning to listen to Him, carrying a conversation from which I can receive His mantle, His ministry, His work, His hands, and His heart, instead of just offering my own.

It's definitely an adjustment learning in an online environment. It took a few days to learn how to find everything I needed and get comfortable navigating inside the portal. But my classmates have made it all so worthwhile. They are a group of such diverse persons, yet a gracious spirit exudes from each one of them. Everyone is learning how to do this together, so there's a real feeling of togetherness and camaraderie about it, despite the difficulties. Above all, it's a beautiful thing to behold the genuine desire each person has to explore the deep waters of our faith at the formative, heart level. I can't help but feel great anticipation for what we will learn together in the three years ahead of us. What's more, I get to meet each one of them in January when we all fly north for a 5-day residency. (Rumor has it we'll be studying with Tony Campolo at Shane Claiborne's ministry, The Simple Way, in Philadelphia. Can it get any cooler than that?!)

And since we're interacting in a flat interface until January, some of us decided to post videos of introduction to share. It makes each person come more alive than their name on a screen with some brief facts about them allows them to be. Just for fun, I thought I would share mine with you. It will give you a sense of how I'm learning to learn in this process.


God Beyond Us

I talk often here about our beautiful humanness. I talk about the heartbreaking beauty of vulnerability, of simply being ourselves, of meeting each other in quiet, broken places. I talk about not having to hold all things together and not having to perform perfectly, of allowing ourselves to be merely human. I fight fiercely for these things because I believe they bring us to the life we were created to live: human life.

But as much as I fight for this, I find that I still strive for superhuman status in ways that just look different than they looked before. Whereas before, being superhuman meant never having a flaw or a need, now it means being a savior. Sometimes I now find myself hanging my significance not so much on being what I think people want but on being able to offer what I think people need.

The problem is not in wanting to offer something people need. The problem is in wanting to be the source of that offering, and in wanting to be that source perfectly.

These days, I'm being reminded that God is the source of what people need. I'm also being reminded that He's the only one who can do it perfectly.

For instance, last Monday I sat in Starbucks for a couple hours and started reading a book on the practice of spiritual direction. It's pretty revealing to flip back through the first chapter and look at all the segments I underlined . . . almost all of them have to do with the work of spiritual direction being the facilitation of an active conversation between the directee and God Himself. The director becomes almost invisible because the focus is on God and the other person, and because the director trusts that God is indeed going to dialogue directly with that person. It requires trust that God is present and active and will indeed show up. It requires a willingness to let the two of them have the relationship they already have, separate from your part in it.

This humbled me. It means my work is less about what I have to offer from my own journey and the overflow of my own heart and more about what God wants to do Himself in the life and heart of that person.

Then at church that night, my pastor shared something that seemed to further these thoughts. At the very end of his sermon, he talked about how often we don't know how to pray for what is best because we don't know the mind of God. We pray with the best intentions we have, but God's purposes transcend our understanding and what we would choose for those we love. Our minds and our hearts are finite. They can only contain and conceive and purpose so much.

I found his words here particularly compelling:

 

Can you imagine Deborah's mother? You know Deborah, the warrior judge in Judges, the one who defeated the army? Can you hear her mom when she was growing up: "Oh God, she's so masculine. She's always beating up the boys. Why can't you make her feminine? I pray, God, make her feminine."

 

Can you imagine Esther's mom, or the ones who raised Esther? Esther, beautiful Esther. Can you imagine the prayers: "Oh God, don't let people look on her as just beautiful. Just give her a normal life. Don't let her get all caught up in her looks." When it was that particular beauty that put her in a position to save an entire nation.

Can you imagine Joseph's mom? "Oh God, he's so different from his brothers. Protect him from his brothers." What if his brothers hadn't thrown him into the pit, sold him into slavery? He would never have become the second most powerful man in the world. If that mother's prayer had been answered, if he had been protected, if he had been safe, he never would have been great.

Can you imagine the prayer of Moses's mother? When all of the male Hebrew children were being killed, can you imagine the prayers: "Oh God, give me a way out of here. Let me take my baby and run. Let me escape." Can you imagine when she finally put him into the river and let him go, and then she was called to nurse him? Can you imagine the temptation and the prayer: "Oh God, can you find a way that he doesn't need to be raised in the palace, and I can keep him to myself?" If that prayer had been answered, he would not have been the one to deliver Israel.

I've been reading through Genesis and Exodus for the past month or so, and some of these stories he shared are so vivid in my mind right now. I could certainly imagine Joseph with his brothers, and Moses with his mother. I could see how limited our vision really is when we are living on the horizontal plane of this earth. Out of the overflow of our human love and experience, we pray for things we do not understand. We are so limited, but God is more than what we are.

 

Just after my pastor spoke these words, a woman sang a song that brought tears cascading down my cheeks in ceaseless streams. Although I am not a mother and the song is the prayer of a mother for her child, I wept. I wept for the way our understanding is limited by our humanity, but how much greater is our God. I wept for the way my mother and father loved me the best way they could, out of their own humanity. I wept for the forgiveness that comes from recognizing that their two eyes, their two hands, and their humanity was paired with God's all knowing, all being, and all seeing. I wept in the admission that I, too, only have two eyes and two hands. I am merely human . . . but God is more, and He works with me, through me, and beyond me. Today, I am thankful for this and am learning how to live more fully from this place.

Below is the song that moved me so much. It's an arrangement of a Sara Groves song, called "Prayer for This Child."

My Heart, On Screen and Up Ahead

So I logged on to the Spring Arbor portal today to purchase books for my first class term, which starts in a week a half. (Yeah, can you believe it?!) Once I selected my program, the term dates, and the appropriate course, up popped a screen listing the above six books.

Um, hello. I already own five of these books.

Beyond my amazement at having to spend a grand total of just $7.55 on books for my first class, there was this confirming sense of truly being headed in the right direction. How else could it feel to see several key books in my life staring back at me from the screen that lists books for the foundational, introductory course of this new program? I can't wait to discover what's ahead, not just as I delve deeper into the profound material of these texts with my new classmates, but over the course of the next three years of my life.

Breathe deep, Christianne. Breathe deep. Here you step into the pool of your heart's deepest longings. Fully embrace. Fully love.

Object Lesson

Hello, friends.

In the last few weeks, I have felt a change happening. A shift from floor-level prostration to eye-to-eye gaze. I feel God asking me to stand up, and to stand up tall. To look him in the eyes. To look other people in the eyes. To fully embody my life.

This is not something that comes easy for me. However, I do feel the past two months have been like training wheels for this.

In the past two months, I have felt like a woman who woke up one day to discover she'd regressed into a preschooler. So many of the concepts I have been embracing for several years now -- convictions about grace, about the beauty of our collective humanness, about allowing ourselves to breathe in the knowledge that we do not, in our own strength, have to hold all things together -- seemed to have vanished. It was as though I was learning them afresh from the beginning.

Although, really, it was a relearning. I was relearning core precepts from a new place, this time with different, and what often felt like higher, stakes. And as much as I'd like to fight against this thought, I think part of life's journey is going to be more of the same: learning something, then relearning it in a new context. Feeling like a three-year-old all over again. Gaining strength, then regressing to regrow our limbs, or perhaps just grow them stronger than they grew the first (or second, or third, or fourth) time around.

In the last two months, while I have been working on projects that testify to what I say I believe, I have had to test whether I truly believe them by applying them back to myself. As I worked and reworked a business plan rooted in my conviction that each person's life is worth knowing, cultivating, celebrating, and embracing . . . as I stood before a group of business professionals and testified to the value of this idea . . . as I wrote a mini-book that describes what I have so far learned is the essence of grace . . . as I did all these things, I had to receive and walk in the grace I preached. I had to accept the limits of my own humanity and believe such limits didn't devalue me. I had to believe I carry a beauty that goes beyond my performance each day.

Today is yet another object lesson in this direction.

At noon today I'll be processing through a graduation ceremony at which I've been asked to give a speech. I've never given a speech before, and, in preparation, the thought of bringing something of value to a roomful of strangers completely flabbergasted me. What could I say that would even matter in a few short minutes? Why would they want to listen to me, anyway? Who the heck am I?

But then I started to wonder about each of those people. What might they need to hear? Given the life I've lived, what can I uniquely offer? Couched in those terms, the intention for this speech became quickly clear. And while I'm scared to do it, while I fear boring those receiving it, while I have no idea what difference, if any, it will make . . . I'm doing it anyway. Offering the words of this speech in public is a chance to embody what it says.

In a few short hours, this will be my offering.

In thinking about what to share with you today, I found myself wondering what I could possibly say to a room full of mostly strangers. And I realized all I could hope to do was speak to you from the one experience each of us collectively share: that of being human.

What does it mean to live human lives? This is not an easy question to answer, nor do I presume to fully know its answer. But experience and reflection have taught me some aspects of what it does and does not mean to be human, which I would like to share with you today.

Eight years ago, on a hot day very much like this one, in a ceremony very much like this one, I graduated in Southern California with my bachelor’s degree. Sitting in that graduation ceremony on that day, I had every expectation that the world was opening its doors for me to enter in, to participate, and to leave my mark. Perhaps you, graduates, are feeling that way today.

With all of the energy, education, ambition, and talent I could muster, I felt ready—ready to make an impression on the landscape of this life, ready for my life to mean something.

So here is what I did. I took two jobs. I worked during the day as the staff editor for a non-profit that carried both a domestic and international presence, and I worked in the evenings as the writing director for a university honors program. During the day I was cranking out editorial project after editorial project, while at night I was meeting with student after student and grading paper after paper.

Needless to say, I became utterly exhausted very quickly. But I felt I was doing the right and good thing. I wanted to make my mark and offer my contribution, and this was how I could do it: by finding what I did well, and by exploiting it to the fullest measure.

The only trouble was, I soon found myself equating what I did with who I was. My identity had become bound up in my work. How I performed had become a measure of my worth. If I finished projects ahead of deadline, I gained praise and sometimes a merit increase in pay. If I lacerated a student paper, my colleagues admired my aptitude and students came to fear my pen. My stellar performances made me feel powerful.

But I was totally missing the point. I thought I was serving my talents well and helping to make a contribution, but my actions were really rooted in selfishness—wanting to show how fast I could complete projects, wanting my colleagues to think I was invaluable, proving to students what I knew so they could follow suit. It was selfish and alienating, but it took me a while to see that.

And you know what?

At the root of all that striving, at the root of all that self-preservation, was a lingering question that haunted me every day.

Am I valuable, just as I am?

Are you valuable, just as you are?

The answer is yes.

I want to share something with you, graduates—something that, as we go out from this place to begin the next chapter of our stories, it will often be easy to forget.

What I want to share is this.

Your worth is not dependent on your work. It does not take multiple jobs, long hours, superior performance, or movement up the ladder to determine your true worth as a human being. You are more than what you do. Yes, you are a human being who does things, but you are also a human being with a heartbeat . . . with a personality . . . with experiences and memories. You have likes and dislikes . . . and opinions. You have feelings.

All of these things make you human, part of the human experience, worth more than what you produce.

It will be easy to forget this in the days ahead. The pace of the world and the pressure to succeed will compete wholeheartedly with this view.

But today, I am inviting you into the human conversation. It’s a conversation that values who you are, not what you do. It’s a conversation that helps you value other people for their humanness, too, for being more than what they produce. It’s a conversation that’s countercultural but essential for the survival of what it means to be truly human.

I hope you’ll join me in this human conversation, wherever life takes you in the days and years ahead, with all the courage and bravery it requires to embrace yourself and other people for being more than what you—or they—produce. I hope you’ll embrace being fully human.

Thank you.

free as a bird

well, i did it. last night i turned in my final thesis for my graduate degree. when i walked out the door of that building and looked up at the early evening sky, i breathed deeply and felt a huge sense of release. a smile crept onto my face and i laughed. i was actually finished!

it has always been difficult for me to truly enjoy my own celebrations, to fully enter into the happiness of the moment and allow others to celebrate me. but last night as i drove home, i decided i wanted to feel all the joy of this occasion. i wanted to experience elation and allow others to experience it with me.

when i came home, then, it was a gift to sit across from kirk at the farm table as he became the first person to read the first book i've ever written. with the warm light of a table lamp casting a small glow between us and a yummy thai dish filling my belly, i sat quietly and simply enjoyed the moment. it was a gift to snuggle with him afterward and hear him share how the book moved him.

my mom called shortly afterward and wanted to hear everything, so i told it all: what the book looks like, how i planned the chapters, what i named each one of them, and how this came together to fulfill the specific requirements asked of me. i even took the time to read the introduction of the book to her over the phone. it made her cry.

of course, there was some dancing around the house that i had to do, and a celebratory call to kirsten to collectively squeal on the phone. and then kirk and i settled down to watch some harry potter. (very excited for the new movie to release in november!)

this morning, it felt strange to receive my newfound freedom. i felt my body tense and release several times as i lay in bed. i could feel anxiety, an urgency to get up and get going on all the work still left to do, until i remembered that all the work was done. it kept taking a few moments to convince my body that this was true, that it could indeed relax.

it seems relaxation is going to take a little bit of effort. hard problem to have, i know.

guest blogger on storychange and how it went

um, i hardly know what to say to the following words written by my hub, kirkum. he honors me and humbles me. i'm so thankful for his love, his friendship, and his partnership in this life. i love you, sweets.

The Obvious Leader of Storychange

I have to remove my "husband" hat and speak from an objective business voice in this. I would like to think I will succeed in doing so by offering the following:

I had the privilege of attending Christianne's business plan thesis final presentation today. This is the culmination of an entire year's worth of graduate studies. Thus, she was understandably a little nervous. The presentation is designed to simulate a group of investors looking at her business model in consideration of funding it. Since the faculty who comprise the simulated board of investors are actual business professionals, there is a considerable standard to meet. The pressure is on to perform well on many levels.

I personally saw Christianne wrestle through many restless days and sleepless nights in preparing for this. Not only did she care about making a strong statement with her presentation to finish off her year (this is the last time she has to present in front of faculty before her graduation on August 8th), but she wanted to honor the business concept God has given her.

She did not disappoint.

I went to the presentation to show my support of her and her education. I was expecting to see a star graduate student (who sells herself short most frequently) deliver a pristine and compelling final project. Instead, I witnessed something I hadn't expected.

About 60 seconds into her presentation I saw Christianne transform from a graduate student into a presiding professional figure: the leader of Storychange. She embodied the message with an elegance, passion, and delivery that made it vibrantly clear that this task has been appointed to her. She spoke with clarity, gracious boldness, and an authority that could have easily been delivered in a keynote address to thousands of women.

Women need Storychange. It became apparent that some of the faculty present saw the remarkable potential of this idea. Two actually said that this is an idea that Oprah would be excited about.

There were some questions from the faculty that challenged the concept - as there should be. That is their job . . . to poke holes in a business plan. However, the faculty also offered many suggestions which only reflects their excitement.

I am sure Christianne will receive strong marks for her performance.

However, that is insignificant compared to what I witnessed today: a move of God to reach the hearts of women across this landscape and beyond . . . and a servant-leader that has been anointed and chosen for this task.

Please pray for wisdom and discernment as to when Christianne is to pursue Storychange. It might be in a year, or five years . . . whenever the "kairos" timing is right.

I am exceptionally proud of her and the weight of who she is. Regardless of the future of Storychange, God obviously showed up today through Christianne's preparation and obedience to develop this idea.

Kirk (husband, fan, and business partner)

here we go

well, today's the day of the big presentation. (remember when kirkum rocked the room with his?) it's safe to say i'm feeling nervous. i have given whole fistfuls of presentations over the course of this past year, but it is quite a different experience to prepare for an audience of your peers than to prepare for an audience of all faculty. thankfully, kirk will be there to cheer me on.

besides the regular nerves, there's also a lot to cover in the strict 20 minutes they give you, and if you do not finish in that timeframe, they cut you off. i practiced several times last night but am still quite a ways from perfecting it. and since i have yet to nail down each slide, i don't have a good sense of whether all my information fits within the time limit.

thankfully, i still have several hours to practice this morning. i go live at 2pm.

ps: internet, meet storychange. this is the baby i left full-time work to birth into the world. while i still do not know if it will ever see the light of day, it has been quite a journey to watch it grow, move, and change over this past year. just creating the plan for its eventual arrival into the world has been a birth in and of itself, and that is one accomplishment i will now carry with me with great pride.

one-third complete

if you can believe it, i just got back from dropping off two bound copies of my business plan at school . . . two days early! i feel like i've just given birth, as i have a somewhat numb euphoria swirling through my body and my brain that is making all the labor of the past two months fade into a fuzzy memory.

i'm going to celebrate with a blended coffee drink at a local coffee shop while giving myself the freedom of a creative afternoon to plan my mini-book. i'll leave the presentation planning for a different day . . . today is about letting my mind wander, free-associate, and create something new.

update: okay, so the afternoon of mind-wandering and free association hasn't worked out exactly as planned. i've been procrastinating, big time, and trying not to feel guilty about it without succeeding too well. for instance, while doing laundry, i call out through the house, "i have not gotten started on my book yet!" to which kirk calls back, "but you finished your business plan!" oh yeah. i guess i did. and that is worth celebrating and taking some rest in response.

out of pocket

 

who will rise up for me against the evildoers?
who will stand up for me against the workers of iniquity?
unless the Lord had been my help,
my soul would soon have settled in silence.
if i say, "my foot slips,"
your mercy, O Lord, will hold me up.
in the multitude of my anxieties within me,
your comforts delight my soul.
-- psalm 94:16-19


hi, friends.

 

i am in the last days of my business program and will likely be quiet here for the next week or so. my final draft of the business plan is due next wednesday, i will give my presentation to the faculty panel next friday, and my second thesis project, which i have decided will be a mini-book (perhaps 50 pages) on how to love and lead in an imperfect world, is due a week from tuesday.

it's a lot to accomplish in a short span of time, and i've been contending with many of my old demons this week, which has not made progress much of an accessible commodity. pray for me, if you think of it, that our God would break through the lies that grip me and bring his light to my soul and his easy yoke to my shoulders.

quick update: i sat at my desk today and hammered away at this and happened, without my even realizing it, to finish exactly half of the final draft of this business plan. that's half of a project that i've been working at for what seems like an eternity that i can actually say is done, finito, over, no more changes in this incarnation of its lifespan. whoa, nelly! how did that happen? oh, it must have been all the prayers my loved ones (including you!) have been offering up for me. thank you so much for your care for me in this place. i'm starting to see light at the end of this long tunnel! i may even be inspired to post more updates as i hit other milestones in this upcoming week! :-)

love,
christianne

accepting imperfection

at mount calvary, november 2005. photo by kirkum.

this past thursday was my last day of traditional classes, and even though it has been four days, i still cannot believe it's over. i don't mean to sound dramatic, but the events of this past month have felt somewhat traumatic. my heart feels like it is just catching up to what happened, and i have cried hard tears at least once a day since it ended, and sometimes more. many times i find myself sitting in a wounded daze, staring into nothing. i start to wonder if i have what it takes to pick back up and start again with one last and final month that starts tomorrow, but then i find myself trying to receive the permission not to worry that far into the future. tomorrow has worries enough of its own. today is meant for rest.

the hardest part of this past month is how utterly alone i've felt. as much as i can tell those in my life that this month's demands have been quite hard, those words only communicate so much. no one has walked in these shoes, sat in this chair, stared at this screen, or had to come up with answers to fill this white space and these little spreadsheet squares for something that has come to mean so much. and as much as i'd like, in theory, to tackle the challenge of expressing just what factors conspired to make all of it so hard, i just don't have it in me. and to be honest, i fear that what i'll hear on the other side of that great effort -- the "i'm sorry it was so hard" and "congratulations on finally finishing" that might sound with good intentions but a subtle dismissive air -- will hurt more than they'll hurt now, on this side of the emotional and mental strain of exposing my heart in that way, when all my hurting, raw heart really desires is to be held, loved, and truly understood.

so for now, i'll just say that what i turned in on my last day of classes, what comprised my first full draft of the business plan i'm creating here at the end of this venture, was not a perfect entity. it does not reflect the fullness of my potential. it has great big gaping holes that i am aware of and great big gaping holes i don't yet even know exist. some sections repeat themselves. other sections are woefully slim. still others instill me with a hard-won pride, and there are reasons for all of these things. i know many parts of it will change in the coming month ahead, but i'm thankful that this last month of refining it into its final form will be spent in the safe and simple quiet of my home, where i'll have room to think and imagine and just breathe.

what i turned in at the end of that haul is imperfect, but it was the best i could do. and given the circumstances that were stacked against me in this case, i have chosen to be okay with that. i have chosen the imperfection, knowing the risks i took that made this road so hard are worth applauding in their own right. at least, that's what i try to remember right now. i try to remember what kirk tells me: that taking risks and being imperfect because of them is infinitely more interesting than never having risked anything at all in order to hold caution and the status-quo with a seeming perfection that is dull, lifeless, and safe. i am leaning these days into the beautiful imperfection of being human.

toward a definition of the heart

a little bit of diva sweetness for you

i use the word heart a lot in this space. sometimes i use it without even thinking twice about it, so integrated a part of my belief system and way of life has it become. but other times i'm incredibly self-conscious about using it so much. i'm afraid that in using the word heart so much around here, i give the impression of being some kind of sentimental sap who bursts into tears at the sight of white fluffy bunnies. (for the record, i don't.)

i was reminded of this today when i got to a section of henri nouwen's way of the heart that talks about prayer, and specifically prayer of the heart versus prayer of the mind.

it's a great week for me to be meditating on the subject of prayer, and especially the distinctions between prayer of the heart and prayer of the mind, as i've entered into a special prayer season this week with my close girlfriends about the ministry to women that God is entrusting to us at our church. after an evening spent with some very special women on sunday night concerning this very thing, the group of us girls agreed to fast from analysis and planning this week, including a refrain from even conversing with each other or our husbands about the subject of this ministry at all, turning ourselves instead totally over to God in prayer with nothing but open hands, no agenda.

it's a hard place to be, prayer. especially when your mind is spinning as fast with questions and thoughts and ideas about where things are headed, like mine is. this is why i'm glad henri nouwen is teaching me about prayer this week, and also why i've identified so closely with the temptation to pray just with my mind. when i pray with my mind, i find myself talking at God instead of talking with him. when i pray with my mind, i find myself working through all the analysis and planning and self-talk i said i wouldn't do, and i find myself too impatient to sit quietly and listen. and none of that can, in my mind, even be called prayer.

but prayer of the heart? this is something that is helping to naturally slow me down, to make me more present with God in the moment, to talk with him instead of at or around him, to get in touch with what is truly there inside of me, and to bring all of that, no matter what it is, into the open as he sits there with me, present to all of it. there, we truly converse. there, the greatest concerns of my heart truly become a matter we share together.

i share this to share a bit of where i am this week and a bit of what i'm learning about prayer. but i also share this to better define what is encapsulated in the word heart when i am referencing it so regularly here on my blog. please hear my heart (wink, wink) and know that instead of sentimentality, and in fact far from it, i rather mean along the lines of the following when i talk about the importance of knowing and honoring my heart or holding up the painfully beautiful hearts of others as we walk along through this world together:

prayer is standing in the presence of God with the mind in the heart; that is, at that point of our being where there are no divisions or distinctions and where we are totally one. there God's Spirit dwells and there the great encounter takes place. there heart speaks to heart, because there we stand before the face of the Lord, all-seeing, within us.

we have to realize that here the word heart is used in its full biblical meaning. . . . the word heart in the jewish-christian tradition refers to the source of all physical, emotional, intellectual, volitional, and moral energies.

from the heart arise unknowable impulses as well as conscious feelings, moods, and wishes. the heart, too, has its reasons and is the center of perception and understanding. finally, the heart is the seat of the will: it makes plans and comes to good decisions. thus the heart is the central and unifying organ of our personal life. our heart determines our personality, and is therefore not only the place where God dwells but also the place to which satan directs his fiercest attacks. it is this heart that is the place of prayer. the prayer of the heart is a prayer that directs itself to God from the center of the person and thus affects the whole of our humanness.

i'll have more thoughts to share about the heart later this week, but for now i thought this a good place to share some helpful thoughts on prayer and foundational thoughts on heart. love to you all this night . . . and grace.

love letter to my brain

if you were my brain, you would be screaming right now.

you would feel so tired from imagining and re-imagining so many possibilities this month, drawing them out to their natural conclusions, then, at my whim, uprooting them and starting completely over, rethinking every particular and related implication of that change, all the while wondering, ultimately, what serves a woman's heart best and most tenderly, and wondering, too, if i have the strength to pursue what my heart tells me is the answer to that question instead of what my greed and pride tell me would make a bigger splash and seemingly impress more people and seemingly validate my own worth.

you would feel exhausted and frustrated by the constant self-doubt i inflict upon myself, by the ways i do not believe in my own heart through this process, by the manifold ways that has begun to tax you, my brain, beyond your tipping point because of my constant demands to play and re-play new and tentative scenarios in my mind, of the way that forces you to demolish what were once firm and trusted foundations stored away in there, demolishing them with a twenty-five-foot crane because you have learned enough by now of your own limits, because you know you cannot hold multiple sprawling concepts in tension inside of you at one and the exact same time.

you would have learned by now you cannot trust the peace i seem to make with myself at night about which direction i'll decisively go, which decisions i'll finally settle upon, knowing even better than i do that this peace becomes nothing but a vapor in the morning and that the decision in question has once again transformed into its exact opposite while you and i slipped into a hard-fought rest.

and while you would be letting out a huge breath and beginning to relax into what seems to be, finally, a real decision today on that cornerstone foundation on which everything else must build, that breath you are letting out vents through thinly pursed lips and that relaxing slouch is actually you on tenterhooks, while your eyes dart side to side every few moments and your neck gets a crick from bracing yourself against me and my proclivity to changing you, my mind.

and besides, even if i really have settled into this decision today, this decision that chooses the hearts of women over financial gain, that aligns with the nature of true growth and not the pressure of a fast-moving world, that finds me listening to and choosing what my heart has quietly been trying to tell me for many days, even if this winds up sticking as the reality you and i will work together to assemble, you, as my brain, would be angry and scared because it means starting completely over one last time, rethinking every single aspect, reconsidering every single angle, rewriting every single section, and reworking every single number, none of which you believe you have the capacity or strength to do after all you have expended on behalf of this project already.

if you were my brain, you would be screaming and about to drop to the floor in a delirium of shock right now. and i would find myself, in repentance, writing you a love letter that goes something like this . . .

dear brain,

i am so sorry.

you have in me a broken person, and that means you get a crap deal from me so much of the time.

it is my brokenness that makes me push you beyond your limits. in my brokenness, i quake with terror at the prospect of being called out, unprepared and vulnerable to ridicule from anyone on the outside of us. in my brokenness, i believe other people's view of us is always right and that our opinions and decisions are never right if they conflict with someone else's.

and so, in my brokenness, i cannot handle one single ounce of imperfection. somehow, in my brokenness, i believe this will be what saves us. it is what promotes my incessant demands that you imagine and re-imagine entire contingent realities, as if it were possible for you to do this perfectly or maintain this demand indefinitely, as if it were even my right to ask this of you.

i am sorry, brain, for asking more of you than i have a right to ask. i am sorry for pushing you to the point of craziness this month. i am sorry for disrespecting your boundaries and treating you like an object that i have the right to control to the point of cruelty. i am sorry for hurting you.

i don't want to be broken, brain. i don't like that i cause you such pain because of it.

i wonder if you feel angry that i seem to have abandoned all the notions of grace and gentleness and acceptance you and i have learned to receive and to share over the past several years together, after several more years spent learning how and why this pattern existed in me in the first place. after such a hard-won victory over those uncompromising and tyrannous forces, we discovered life and joy and freedom. we learned to love each other well, to coexist in at least a semblance of the way we must have been intended to, and even to love others and offer them this same hope of rest and peace.

yet here we are, struggling with those same forces, you getting blunted and beaten down by my own tyrannous edge. and for that, i am so sorry, brain.

the truth is, i will always be broken. we will always face the possibility of this fallback into the old, broken attempts to survive. i will sometimes be slow to see this pattern has emerged, that the old forces are at work in us again.

but know this, brain. we have grown far enough along for me to know that other path to perfection and invulnerability is a mirage. it may take a while for me to see that i've been seduced yet again by these pressures, but in my deepest core, i am not in favor of going after them again. what we have learned these past years together is real. it is my choice for us. but i will not always choose it perfectly . . . and that's because, as you and i have learned, perfection is impossible and not even the point.

please forgive me, brain, for taxing you so hard this month. please forgive me for doubting who we are and the strength that exists inside of us. now that i'm even more aware of this and how much pain i have been bringing you, i seek to honor you with gentleness and a slow and deliberate pace. i love you and am thankful we've been joined together in this life.

in renewed grace,
christianne

turning and returning

i'll start by saying that i'm living in a whirlwind. you know that business plan i wrote about in my last post? well, it is such hard work. every day in class, new worksheets and spreadsheets and whole segments of my plan draft are due. it's hard and it's demanding and the days feel like a blur, and i'm barely keeping my head up.

whereas last week, when i wrote this, i was living in a dreaming and creative and thoughtful and inquisitive place about all this, this week has felt like an all-out battle zone. i woke up early monday morning to work on a new section of the plan and just could not get my mind to go at all. i felt blocked and paralyzed. all i could hear inside my head were all the ways that i would fail. my mind kept flashing to the presentation i will make to the faculty panel at the end of this program, the presentation that will actually allow them to confer me with my degree, and all i could see in my mind's eye was disappointment written all over their faces and disbelief that this plan is any good or that anyone would ever want anything to do with it at all.

somehow, with kirk's help, i pushed through and got my assignments done that day, but i still felt wearied and beaten down by it. and with the pace of this month's requirements, i've continued to feel more of the same through the rest of the week. weary. beaten down. overwhelmed. wondering if this idea is really any good. operating in a pretty huge vacuum. throwing daggers against the wall in the dark. keeping on with all of it at a haggard pace because the course load just keeps speeding along.

but there are glimmers of hope. like tuesday morning, when i woke up in the wee hours of the morning again and found this beautiful illustration staring back at me from the screen of my computer.

questions/answers piece by penelope dullaghan

immediately, my eyes were drawn to the words making their way down the right side of the page . . . words like i can't, afraid, not an expert, scared, and don't know how . . . questions like what if i'm blank? what if people think i'm dumb? what if i'm really a fraud? and what if it's just a big flopper? . . . judgments like not good enough and tick-tock-tick-tock. i could hardly believe i was staring at a piece that voiced every single fear and judgment and every shaming thought and oppressive criticism i'd been carrying with me for the past few days. i could hardly believe someone knew my own head and heart so intimately, enough to create such a delicate yet elaborate illustration that expressed all of my insides so completely.

but then my eye was drawn to the left side of the page . . . the side that said why not try? what if it turns out to be fun? and how about letting go of the outcome? the side that said you're going to die at some point, so why not? and boldly invited me to live daringly.

the more i stared at this painting, the more i noticed. for one, i noticed that instead of staring straight ahead, caught directly between these opposing voices, the girl was turned in the direction of possibility, facing the open-ended thoughts that invited her up into the expanse of hope. then i noticed that the tinges of color on her cheeks even reflected the two tones of voices inside her head, one lighter and one darker, but that it was the softer-toned cheek that was turned toward hope and grace and playfulness. and then i picked up on the contrast in sound, noticing the cacophony of thoughts on the right are all shapes and sizes and just a chaos of jumbled noise but that the inviting voices from the left are larger, more full, more cohesive and complete. i don't know about you, but it's those crazy, tangled-up, right-side voices that get my attention every time i look at this piece. there's something in its design that pulls my eye to that side first, and all i can do is focus on the noise. it takes a conscious effort to pull away from those thoughts, just like in life, to attend to the opposite thoughts. but after that effort is made, it is those left-side thoughts that actually inspire me with such invitation to play, to laugh, to try, to experiment, to wonder . . . to let myself just be human. (interesting sidenote: from the girl's perspective in the painting, it's actually the opposite. the open-ended questions filled with wonder and anticipation are ballooning on the right side of her brain, where all the creative sparks inside of us fly and zoom around. all the crazy, judgmental thoughts are situated on her left side, the side of our brain that's analytical and processes the logic of what we think, say, and do.)

i stared at the illustration of this girl, marveling at the two sides of herself, and i saw quickly that this was indeed the two sides of my own self, that the capacity for both shame and grace exist inside of me, and that right now, in this moment, i could perhaps choose to offer myself the merciful way.

with all the conviction with which i wrote about beautiful humanness in my last post, i confess that i turned against my own beautiful humanness this week. with all the pushing back against certainty and control and surety i preached in my comments on that last post, i confess those are exactly the kinds of things i grasped for this week. in the midst of a penetrating fear of failure and overwhelming judgment from the outside world, i shamed myself to be better, try harder, get it together, and just be smarter. i didn't care for the tender parts. i didn't make room for mistakes. instead, i turned against myself and tried to make myself immortal . . . instead of allowing myself to be exactly what i am: simply and beautifully human.

beautiful humanness

we are called to speak to people not where they have it together but where they are aware of their pain, not where they are in control but where they are trembling and insecure, not where they are self-assured and assertive but where they dare to doubt and raise hard questions; in short, not where they live in the illusion of immortality but where they are ready to face their broken, mortal, and fragile humanity.

 

from the selfless way of christ by henri nouwen


these days, i am devoting most of my time to finishing out the last two months of my master's degree program by creating an original business plan. i have chosen a product concept that empowers women to discover and embrace their authentic identity, and to learn to do this while walking alongside other women committed to that same brave work in their lives.

 

this means i've been thinking a lot about how identities are formed, what brings us to a place of questioning the authenticity of those identities, and how we move toward greater understanding and truth-telling in our worlds in this area.

that's kind of a mouthful, but i guess it boils down to this: i'm spending most of the waking hours of my days thinking about a woman's heart, how it ticks, what moves it this way and that, how she develops a sense of self and self-worth, how she musters the courage to face hard questions and speak brave answers, how she feels she is seen, heard, and wholeheartedly embraced. i have such compassion for each of us along this journey of life and growth, because i, too, know how difficult it is and how great the resistance we face (both internally and externally) and how often we can feel that we're merely floundering about, at best. how do we live in this place? how does growth and recognition and transformation truly happen?

i love that my next degree program in spiritual formation will grow my thoughts deeper in this direction.

i'm also spending a lot of time these days in really rich books about how silence and solitude strengthen the heart and create still points of grace and truth before God, about how fragile and beautiful is the humanity that connects us, about how much there is to be learned in the story of each of our journeys, about how freshly awakened we feel when others walk with us hand in hand.

in light of all this dreaming and creating and thinking and reading, the quote above from henri nouwen perfectly expresses the conviction i am coming to hold for the meaning of life, flowing from a real experience of God's grace, truth, and love. i'm coming to believe that our aim is to accept with grace the limits of our humanity and offer this same gift to other travelers we meet along the way. this is love, and this is grace, and this is where God's ministry is found.

woot-woot!

kirk and i came home from an incredible concert experience with jakob dylan tonight (more to come on this later) to the news that barack obama has secured the democratic nomination for president. this news deserves a hearty woot-woot!

photo by barack obama on flickr

i, for one, have been zinging around the house in a euphoric cloud, whooping it up at the top of my lungs, and just generally being a silly face. i'm so stoked! 

i have hesitated to post political thoughts on this blog in recent months, as i don't want to turn readers off or seem in-your-face or pushy. that would certainly never be my intent. but the truth is, i'm a huge admirer of barack obama, and he has had my vote for many months now. 

i've followed this primary season with unabated vigor, not for the typical history-making reasons but because i've been reading obama's books, learning who he is, and following his leadership of his campaign with increasing interest. simply put, his ideology and approach have turned my head. for the first time in my life, i truly care what happens. i want to do my part to make a difference.

goodness knows, obama is not perfect. i'm not trying to claim that he is (and let's face it, none of the candidates thus far could ever claim to be, either). but he carries himself with great dignity and grace. he treats others, even his worst critics, with the same. he believes we all have a part to play in the making of this nation. and i want someone with his principles and vision leading me, and leading us.

so, in short, here are 10 quick reasons barack obama has my vote . . . 

he embodies leadership. he has run an exceptional campaign. he has invited the american people into the political process. he is committed to honesty and transparency in washington. he doesn't give easy answers. in fact, he'll give you the hard answers if they are the honest-to-goodness truth. he speaks his convictions. he listens. he's a forward thinker. he's got confidence, verviness, and guts. and, what's more, he has class.

feeling bittersweet

just over a month ago, kirk and i shared a conversation that began with the question, "what do you think you'd like to do in this upcoming year if we end up staying in florida longer than expected?"

he had posed the question, but it was one i'd already begun thinking about in the previous week. as you know, we had come back from our california trip a little bewildered and unsure how everything would actually work out for us to move there. in addition to that, i recently shared how so much has been happening in new relationships here, and opportunities to serve have begun to ripen. with both of these forces at work, i'd already begun pondering the possibility that God was doing something here, that we needed to pay attention, that maybe the place to be, for now, was here.

this was so hard to even think about. after going through a whole process in february of realizing my heart is made for sitting with people in their journeys, of pondering aloud and in prayer about the work of spiritual direction and dreaming newfangled dreams about a house that opens its arms to those on quiet and sacred pilgrimage, and of taking such painstaking care in an application process for spiritual formation training that was daunting, grueling, and yet redemptive . . . after all of this, think in another direction?

it was hard, but we couldn't deny the painful realities of a hard-hit economy and much higher cost of living on the west coast. we couldn't deny that the tropical sanctuary of winter park and the idyllic haven of our home was beckoning us even deeper every day. and, deep down, i could not help noting the great irony of planning a move across this big wide country to enroll in a graduate program that would train me to do the kinds of things i'm already beginning to do through relationships and opportunities at my church right now. what irony, this.

so on that afternoon when kirk posed that question to me, i turned to him, having already considered how i would most want to spend the coming year of my life in florida, if florida it was indeed going to be. i told him: i would want to invest wholeheartedly with the girls in whatever this ministry with them is trying to become, and i would want to enroll in the online spiritual formation program at spring arbor.

since i knew it was possible we were going to stay here, and since i also knew that this is what i would most definitely be doing if we did, i hopped online as soon as we got home that afternoon and filled out the application for spring arbor right then and there. then i updated my FAFSA information on the government federal aid website so that my information would also be sent to spring arbor for student loan consideration. then i e-mailed the admissions director at spring arbor and introduced myself, saying my application and FAFSA information had been submitted.

this was on a saturday afternoon, but do you know what happened next? the admissions director e-mailed me right back! he said my application had already reached him and then asked if i had any questions. he even gave me his business cell phone number to call at any time. whoa, nelly. things were moving on a fast track here.

after this, i needed to select three references. i thought about it for a little bit and then e-mailed three wonderful people with my request. one of them was none other than our very own terri, from blogland.

within 30 minutes, terri had written back to say yes. first thing monday morning, the person i had asked to be my work-related reference said yes. and on monday afternoon, i just happened to see in the hallway at school the woman i'd asked to be my academic reference, and she said yes, too. all three references were e-mailed or faxed to spring arbor within just a handful of days.

meanwhile, i had three new essays to write to complete my application. i sat down with them for a good 3-4 hours on wednesday night of that week and was able to complete them in one sitting. (thankfully, some of the groundwork for these essays had already been laid with the essays i'd written for my ISF application in the previous month.)

i could hardly believe how much had transpired in just five short days, but if you can believe it, there's more.

i had known about the spring arbor program for at least a year, but my hesitation in considering that school alongside ISF was the fact that it was an online degree program in spiritual formation and leadership. an online program . . . in spiritual formation. something about that notion just didn't sit well with me. the work of the heart runs in such deep waters, but how deeply can you swim in those waters if you're doing it all online?

you can see where this is going, can't you? i mean, look at where we are right now. we're talking to each other in an online space. we're talking about deep questions and concerns and convictions of the heart. we're sharing stories. we're being honest, even if it hurts. we're wrestling hard, and we're celebrating hard. we're loving one another across the miles and through the medium of a computer screen. some of us have met, but most of us haven't. and yet . . . don't you feel, to some degree, we know each other? that meeting in person would be like encountering an old friend we've already known forever?

that's how it feels to me, at least. except that over this past year, and even up to this point through the application process, i still felt unsure about the thought of this online program at spring arbor. that's why i didn't apply sooner. that's why i only considered ISF when i was looking for graduate programs in this subject.

so when the admissions guy asked if i had any questions, i asked if i could talk on the phone with a current student or alumni from the program. he said of course, and then connected me up with a girl named valerie. but it was just a few minutes into our phone conversation that the truth of all this that i just shared finally struck me: that i already know real and vibrant community can form in online spaces, especially when those participating are intentional and committed to it, and especially when those people are gathered around matters of formative spiritual journey.

i could hardly believe the realization i was having in that moment. it was like i could see the past two years in one snapshot, the time i've spent with this blogging community crystallizing into a preparation and a proving ground that culminated in this exact moment: God had prepared me for this.

whoa. freaking. nelly.

it took about two weeks to learn that i'd been accepted. when i got my welcome packet in the mail, i spent about an hour poring over all of it and sharing bits and pieces with kirk as i went.

all of this is a big secret i've been holding close, about to burst with, wanting to tell all of you . . . but i didn't feel the freedom to do so. and that's because i was still waiting for word from ISF on whether i'd been accepted there, too. i just learned this past thursday that i was. both of us were, actually. this was really big news.

there aren't many ways to describe how it felt to get that call from ISF after all of this, after this long journey, after what it has meant to me all along, after this settling realization that florida is what we have chosen, at least for now. but the feeling (and word) i keep coming back to is bittersweet.

it feels sweet because i love ISF and what they stand for. they have an amazing faculty and a great community. i know i would have received outstanding training and a wonderful experience there. it feels so good to have been invited to be a part of that.

but the bittersweet feeling is the letting go of that. it's the weirdness of having thought with everything in me earlier this year that we were heading to california this summer. all those dreams for that ministry house and thinking it was plopped down somewhere in orange county, california, and all that. being close to family and california friends again. letting go of all these things i thought were true. letting go of all that sureness we'd had. letting go of the dream for ISF as a part of my life, at least for now. it makes the sweet so bitter.

but when i turn my mind to what we're choosing instead, that makes all the difference. i think about what's going on with the new friends i've been making. i think about the blessing of our beautiful and very affordable house and how much we love winter park and the lakes and the trees and the stunning beauty. i think about so many new opportunities happening here. and i think about spring arbor. it's so surprising to me what spring arbor has become . . . something that actually thrills and excites me, just to think about it, because of my experience with this blogging community and how deeply connection can form between people who are intentional about it in an online space. the chance to travel to michigan once a year (this is required for the program every january -- yikes, it's going to be freezing!), not to mention the chance to study in greater depth an area that has become so fundamental to who i am is also just amazing and thrilling. i'm really, really excited to finally get started later this august.

when kirk and i were walking along park avenue last friday evening, when he was enjoying his new cigar, he asked how i was doing with the news from ISF we had just received the previous day, and i shared with him this thought: that all of this really comes down to what we are choosing for ourselves in this moment. it feels like a conscious choice right now more than usual. and part of that is painful because choosing one thing means excluding all other possibilities in that moment. but then again, a choice does have to be made in order to keep living life. and here and now, we've decided to choose this one. thanks for being along with me in this journey.

friends make a real difference

i have been praying for almost two years that God would bring friends into my life here in florida. i knew, when kirk and i made the decision that i would move here when we got married, that i would never find another friend like sara . . . or kate . . . or my life group girls . . . or any of the kindred spirits who have graced my life with their presence throughout my days. i would never find another person quite like any of them again. and yet i began to pray for friends who could inhabit whole new rooms in my heart, who could take up residence in my affection in ways i had not yet discovered because our paths had not yet crossed.

it has been a long and lonely road in this direction.

even though kirk is my best friend and closest ally, i am the kind of girl who has always carried close and intimate friendships with a small handful of girls at a time. it's a blessing i have always been thankful to discover, because i know such kinships are so incredibly rare, and yet God has been consistently faithful to provide these kind of friends in the previous eras of my life. some of them have been in my life for more than ten years.

yet here was a long season in which new friendships in a new hometown would not make their way out of hiding. in nearly two years, i'd discovered only one, yet our different life responsibilities kept us from connecting as frequently as either of us would have liked. still, it was so nice to have made a local friend in lauren, just to know she was there, close by, a caring, fun, and thoughtful friend, even if i didn't see her beautiful face and infectious smile as often as i wanted to.

so still i prayed. and still i found myself waiting . . . and waiting . . . and waiting. i began to realize just how rich my friendship blessings in previous seasons of life had truly been.

i sustained myself as i waited through regular phone dates with the beautiful lovelies in my life back home, giving thanks regularly for the gift of being deeply known and loved in those places and for the gift of reciprocating that kind of love to them.

and i gave thanks for the lifesaving gift that has been this blog.

you all know what i'm talking about. if you're reading this, chances are you, too, have been awestruck by the amazing community of friends that has grown and deepened through so many connections made and the deep, beautiful souls that care and offer their hearts and the grace of Christ to others with their words, sharing honest pieces of their truth as they continue to learn and live this life. if anyone has ever doubted that real community can develop in blogland, they need look no further than the community of friends that has gathered here and in other close places . . . a community that prays together and walks together through the difficult and the celebratory times that life can bring. they need look no further than the soul friend i've found in my dear kirsten-girl. my need for friendship in the past two years has been fed so frequently in this very space and in the spaces of so many others of you out there. and for that, i thank God . . . and i also thank you.

then, in february, something interesting developed.

i got an e-mail from lauren. although we hadn't been connecting in person very frequently, she'd been keeping up with my blog. she had been one of the original sounding boards for the business idea that propelled me into graduate school last year, the one that spoke to a need among women to find and be found in real community and grace. she had seen that vision slowly transform into a calling to ministry. she also knew how long i had been searching for places to connect at our church, failing for such a long time to find the right landing pad in which to serve and connect.

it turns out she'd been finding others like me. in fact, she was one of them. and then there was kristen, who had recently been burdened with an inexplicable need to pray for the women at our church. and there was maggie, who had been working for the previous year to establish and grow a women's ministry at one of our distributed sites and could share with us wisdom and vision.

lauren wondered, would i like to join them for a time of prayer and sharing and brainstorming at her house that saturday?

would i.

that first meeting back in february led to another meeting the following weekend. we got to know one another, since lauren was the only one who knew all three of us, but none of the rest of us previously knew one another. we shared our hearts and began to cast a vision for what it might look to provide a place of deep connection and authentic conversation among the women at our church. eventually, this led to a dessert gathering with all of our husbands, in which we shared this vision and they listened, asked questions, and offered so much wisdom.

we fasted together. we called each other during the week. we sent e-mails like they were going out of style. we kept meeting, and we kept praying for this fledgling ministry. slowly, a purpose and structure began to emerge.

and then one morning, after one of our late-night marathon meetings, i found myself staring in the mirror as i brushed my teeth with one single thought resounding in my head: friends make a real difference. in the time i've been living in florida, i have loved the home of quiet sanctuary that kirk and i have created together, along with our two kitties. i am still awestruck every day by the tropical beauty that surrounds me here and the charm of the little town in which we live. and yet, here and now, this was the first time florida actually felt like home.

all because of friends. they make all the difference. after two years of praying for God to bring these exact three girls into my life, i know this to be true without a doubt.

extending grace

note: this is the second in a two-part series. click to read the first installment here.

as i shared in my previous post, i spent about three days heeding the compelling invitation to listen to the quiet. at first, it felt comforting, like a sweet relief from all the noise i had been cramming in my head for days on end. but toward the end of that intense three-day directive, i began to feel just plain irritable.

i had grasped that all those distractions were not the answer to my plight, that they would never fill me in the way that i wanted them to. so now i couldn't read books. i couldn't sit for another moment longer in front of my computer. i couldn't handle the thought of one more movie. all of it felt empty, devoid of the life i sought. these days of quiet had revealed this to me, and i had actually lost my taste for them [at least in such large doses]. but just sitting and listening to the quiet? it took forever. it seemed to go nowhere. it even felt [gasp! the horror!] boring.

so there i was, feeling completely irritable and stuck. the hole inside my chest kept growing more vast, pleading with me to fill it now, but i felt completely helpless to do so. i couldn't go back to the futility of the old ways, but hearing that listen to the quiet prompt was making me want to scream and punch my pillow.

thus began the days of walking listlessly around inside my house. there were a handful of these, and they were pretty intolerable. i would hear the prompt and heed it half-heartedly, and then i would get up and walk around my house aimlessly. mind you, our house is not very large, so the walk took very little time. it landed me back at square one way before i was ready to be there.

one night, kirk and i were out driving around town. we were talking about how we could best invest our time and resources after graduation to get us moving along again financially. as we were throwing around ideas, i could feel that cavernous place inside my chest begin to fill. i began to feel excited. i began to envision throwing myself into some new adventure. i began to think of all the ways my competencies could be used somewhere. oh, yeah! i thought. here we go. i just needed a direction in which to focus this whole time. that's all that i've been waiting for.

except i quickly realized this wasn't true. because you know what? in the same amount of time it took for me to think gleefully that i'd found the answer to filling my chest-sized emptiness, that answer just as quickly revealed itself to be a sham. that hole was filling up in the exact same way that the hole had filled when i threw myself into thinking of writing as my vocation in the last few years, and then into thinking that the business idea i'd been developing over this past year was my vocation. really, all of this was just another form of distraction, albeit a weightier one than the piddly distractions that had occupied the extent of my days in recent weeks.

but perhaps it was an even more insidious distraction . . . because these attention-claimers, the ones that have been tied to vocation and questions about what i should do with my life, are also so closely tied to the notions i hold of my core identity. and, given my experience with how things have gone before with all these things, i knew that the same thing would happen this time around if i wasn't careful.

what would happen is this: i would think i had found some answer to my life, some notion of what i was meant to do, and then throw myself into frenzied activity in that direction. i would work and work and work so hard to make something happen with all of that, and i would feel so fulfilled in doing it. the hole in my chest would close, having become filled to the full with a mission for life that i was purposely called to do. and then suddenly i would wake up one day and realize that it had become empty again. i would cast about, wondering what had happened. and eventually, i would find that my attempts to distill my life into some active direction that encompassed all of me wouldn't last because no one thing could possibly encapsulate all of me. and so the hole inside my chest would empty and i would be back to that cavernous ache, unsure of who i was or what i was supposed to do with myself. i would be back to feeling aimless and alone. i would be back to feeling completely lost.

that night in the car, i felt myself go through this roller coaster in a handful of minutes, filling up with excitement and then seeing it through in my mind's eye to its inevitable end. and this time, i was able to see how often and how easily this happens inside of me because i attach my whole life and identity to these kinds of answers. i encamp my very worth around them, and then i feel depleted and devalued when the bubble eventually pops, as it always does.

i didn't want to do that again. i wanted to learn forward this time. the only trouble was, i was back to sitting with that cavernous hole. i still did not know how to fill it. this was very frustrating, and also frightening. what was i going to do? and if it had taken me this long to search and try and still be misguided, how long would it take to search and try and find the actual life i was looking for?

a couple days later, kirk and i attended a training day that his friend kevin was conducting. kevin runs a business that helps people and businesses discover their purpose and align their lives and practices with that purpose. in the past few years, kirk has been working as an independent contractor with kevin in this, so he was attending the training day to connect with others who may also begin to offer these services. kevin was kind enough to extend the invitation for the "train the trainer" day to me, given my interest in helping people along in the area of God's work in their lives.

it was a valuable day of training that ran the full workday. as a group, we went through the primary materials that kevin and kirk and others have been using to consult with clients, and a lot of us took notes and asked questions and posed scenarios from different points of view. as i was participating, i was thinking only of how to apply this knowledge in a client setting, not of how to apply it personally to my life. that is, until about the last 45 minutes of the training day, when the personal application hit me completely unaware.

the entire day, we had been building up to the final segment of how to help clients write their overarching life purpose statements, the idea being that each person has a unique spiritual DNA, beyond the collective spiritual DNA we all have [to glorify God and enjoy him forever], which is the specific way each person is designed to exhibit that collective aim. kevin didn't describe it this way, but i'm thinking it is somewhat similar to the concept of naming in the scriptures: the way people named their children, the way God renamed people at times, the new and secret name that we will receive in heaven . . . all of these speak to a uniqueness that describes an expression of the image of God that each person individually bears.

so we're in the session, fleshing this out, hearing some examples, and i start noodling with some ideas on my notebook for what mine could potentially be. i didn't work too hard at it, and nothing i wrote felt like it tapped into the deepest, most fundamental parts of me, so eventually i turned the page and continued along with the rest of the group.

at this point, kevin began to the tell the story of a woman who had approached him after a lecture he gave one time. she told him she had found her purpose in life, and that purpose was to lose weight. of course, kevin's spirits dropped when he heard that, and he took a moment to talk further with her about it, sharing that losing weight was more like a goal, whereas your purpose is fundamental to your sense of being. and then he asked her if she knew what grace meant.

as soon as i heard the word grace, my mind was off and running again. i thought about how crucial that word has been to my spiritual journey in the past ten years. i thought about how that spiritual journey began in response to a lack of grace i had carried toward myself or received from others in the previous years of my life. i thought about how much i desire to share grace with others now, in whatever form it can possibly take. and i thought about how even that day i had heard a few people share that a person's purpose usually ends up being connected to something they had personally struggled with over the course of their life.

i turned back a page and looked at the examples that were written there. i looked at the ones i had tried to create for myself. i added a couple more possibilities, with question marks attached to them: offering grace? extending grace? thinking about my desire to minister to others, i figured offering grace made the most sense, so i circled it and turned the page again. but the longer i sat there listening, the more the words extending grace kept resounding in my head. extending grace. extending grace. extending grace.

i turned the page back again and stared at the two options. although offering grace was circled, my eyes kept moving to extending grace. i tried to think why that might be. and then i thought about the fact that grace is really something that flows down from heaven. of myself, i have no grace to offer. i can only extend that which has been given to me. also, i thought about how much of my life has been about learning to receive grace myself, and about continuing to receive it every day. i'm not here, completely healed, ready to offer without need to receive. but i can be here to extend grace to others and to myself. this is something i will need to do the rest of my life, in fact.

suddenly, i realized that i had it. i had hit upon my purpose statement without even realizing i was looking for it that day.

i exist to serve by extending grace.

i tried to get kirk's attention in order to share it with him, but he thought i was just trying to hold and squeeze his hand. [hee hee.] but a few minutes later, an opportunity naturally presented itself for me to share my discovery with the group, and that was such an amazing experience. it felt so good to profess what i was coming to understand was core to my life, my soul, my mind, my heart -- what God created me to offer of himself in the world. and even though i've been circling around this word grace for quite some time now, there is something really special about naming it as fundamental to my being. i exist to serve by extending grace. it gave me tears and goose bumps. it does still to this day, even a week later.

it is so neat how every single thing they shared that day through the course of the training about what would happen when someone hit upon their real and true purpose statement was true for me: that it would make sense of every major event in their life, that it would transcend a specific job or vocation they could hold, that it would inform the devotional way they read the scriptures and would explain why particular passages mean so much to them, that it will form the basis for even the slightest interactions they have with others or the way they carry themselves to complete different tasks in their life. i could see it in an instant. i knew it was true down to the depth of my bones. and i knew that this was something bigger than any "answer" i could try to find for my life. it was simply about a matter of being.

earlier in the day, kevin had shared an illustration of what he calls a person's core life accounts [spiritual, emotional, mental, social, financial, and so on] by depicting a circle with a lot of smaller circles nestled within the large circle, funneling their way down to a hole in the middle. these circles represent the different core life accounts of a person's life and the way they move outward hierarchically from the core of the person to their more external interactions in the world. like i said, at the center of the diagram, depicting the core of the person, was a hole. and you know what goes in that hole? according to kevin, it's the person's individual purpose.

at the time, i didn't connect this diagram at all to the hole that i had been feeling in my own chest so intensely in the previous days, but once i uncovered my purpose statement later in the day, my mind flew back to the diagram and made the connection immediately. i find that so totally cool. it makes so much sense of why i'd been having trouble knowing what to do with that hole, how much filling it with a particular activity or job or calling, as great as some of those things can be, can never be permanent enough or big enough to fill that hole there inside of me. that hole was meant to be filled with something more transcendent yet fundamental to who i am. it's meant to be filled with, simply, my way of being.

notes on california 2

there is a lot to share about our experience in california last week, and it has taken more time than i expected to sort through all of the related thoughts and feelings.

in some ways, the trip was quite different than either of us expected. i think both of us expected that the angels would sing and all would fall naturally into place the entire time we were there. and some of that did happen. but some of that also did not happen. some of it was surprising and hard. some of our conversations coming back here to florida have been quite honest and candid in ways neither of us really want them to be. and in that place, reflecting on those things, i feel a measure of disappointment.

it's been hard to sift through that disappointment to discern the true root of it. and i think one reason that has been hard is because there is both good and bad to hold in our hands through this, both amazingness and difficulty. in my heart, i feel the good and the bad judging each other, making it difficult for either of them to coexist and be true at the same time.

so, despite the difficulty and my not fully understanding all that God is up to yet, i will try to relate some of how things went. this will not be an exhaustive list.

* our time with ISF was very fruitful and peaceful and lovely. we spent about an hour talking with the program administrator. i loved her energy and the language she used to talk about the program and its students. i felt a continued connection to what this program is about and what i am about, which was exciting and encouraging. then kirk and i had individual interviews with the program administrator and an additional staff person. mine lasted about an hour, and kirk's lasted about 40 minutes. all told, we were there for nearly three hours. i am amazed they took as much time with us as they did, and that they were continually gracious to have offered us all of that time.

* as i was sitting in the lobby during kirk's interview, reflecting on how mine had gone and praying for him during his, i was overcome with a sense of right-now-ness, similar to what i experienced on easter sunday from my previous post. i could feel my heart bubbling up with a sense of urgency, like this program is very much for me and the time for it is very much right now. that felt really good and accorded me a great measure of peace and contentedness and happiness as i sat there in that lobby waiting for him to come out.

* kirk's experience had a little bit of a different twist. about halfway through his interview, it became really clear to him that God is moving him into a season of focusing on career. this wasn't wholly surprising, since he has always been anticipating working full-time and taking classes just part-time. the surprising thing is that he realized he would be okay if he waited a little while to start the program, perhaps a semester or even a year. he even felt strongly enough about this to express it in his interview, sharing that if their decision came down to having room for only one of us in the fall, he hoped they would choose me instead of him. wow. that was quite a revelation for him to experience and for me to hear.

* as the week went on, kirk's conviction about this grew. we are now pretty certain that one of the primary ways God used this week was to grant kirk the gift of perspective and clarity of priorities. this is pretty amazing, as kirk has spent the past three years completely reorienting his life toward receiving a new kingdom or territory over which to rule and has been walking in a desert for much of that time, wondering when that kingdom will come into view and what it will entail. God has made it clear to kirk that the time for ruling and reigning is upon him. whoa. God totally showed up for kirk this week in that way. we are both totally blown away by that.

* we visited a handful of areas in which we thought we might like to live. we saw some beautiful communities and some not-so-beautiful communities. overall, the house-hunting aspect of our trip seemed to provoke more stress than expected. both of us became quite struck by what a special place we inhabit right now in winter park and what a beautiful home and quality of life we share for such a low, low cost of living. it's extraordinary, really. we will be hard-pressed to find a similar situation in southern california, which is high-priced and congested and very much filled with concrete and track homes. neither of us are very sure which area of california will ultimately be for us, but we acknowledge and trust that all of that will work itself out in the way it needs to at the time it needs to do so, eventually.

* ultimately, this is going to come down to a question of financial viability. there is the possibility that when we receive our notices from ISF (which should come in about two months, just after memorial day), that we will find ourselves in a position of practical readiness to move and create a life in california, if invited to do so. we are having conversations about what that could look like. but we are also having conversations about what it could look like if we aren't ready, if we need more time, if prolonging the move for six months or a year might need to be an option for financial reasons.

* i think this is the part that is hard for me to think about. this is the part where i want to close my eyes, put my fingers in my ears, and cry, "la-la-la-la-la! la-la-la-la-la!" like a little kid throwing a tantrum and being unwilling to listen to reason. but i'm getting better at having this conversation. i'm conceding the truths of reality and the truths of what things are important to us. i'm conceding that there needs to be a measure of wisdom. and i'm conceding that in some ways, God could also be up to some other things not fully in view quite yet. and we want to be open to all of that. we want to receive the full measure.

* right now, kirk and i are very clear that getting to california will take some practical readiness on a financial level that we need to build toward intentionally. we do not want to get there and have to blow through our savings and then be up a creek, not knowing what to do next. we want to be prepared, and we think that means exercising wisdom and restraint, if necessary. it also means doing what we can to prepare while waiting to hear from ISF in the next two months.

* so in the interim, we are both exploring some handfuls of options for what this new momentum could look like for both of us, both in california (if we move immediately) and in florida (if we need to wait). even though the initial thought of this part was difficult to swallow and somewhat distasteful to me, it has started to become exciting. i am looking forward to what will emerge. i wonder, for both of us, what we will find.