Have you ever been waiting for something, then realized in the process that the thing that you're waiting for may take a lot longer than you had planned? Have you ever been so sure about something and felt so confident about your timing, then realized that whatever you had been brooding over would not necessarily be finished in the time you had allotted? Let's get more practical here. What are you to do, when you've been confidently pursuing a goal, a direction, perhaps a promise from God---if you believe like me that God speaks to humans---and you suddenly find yourself on a steep slope of indefinite delay? While I do not claim to have all of the answers, I do feel like I reached a breakthrough in this area this morning, and I'm eager to share it with you.
I was talking to God about this---actually, I've been talking to him a lot about this off and on---and this morning, I felt like he gave me a helpful key. First, let's look at two that I'm finding not so helpful. I'm going to frame this with the metaphor of chai, since that's how Jesus spoke to me this morning.
Imagine that you're making a big pot of chai, and you plan for it to be your best chai yet. You're confident about the recipe, the ingredients are fresh and in order, and as you proceed with each step, the aroma of the heavenly brew begins to stimulate your senses! "This is going to be an amazing chai!" you might say. You know that it's going to take some time, as it's a huge pot of chai, and the spices need to simmer long enough for their potent qualities to permeate the golden liquid. So you wait, you stir, you give it the time it needs, and more and more, the manifestation of chai becomes apparent before your eyes. It's time to remove the spices and pour in the milk! (I skipped the description of the previous steps, such as brewing the tea, so as not to turn this into a post on how to make chai.) Fast-forward. The beloved substance before you now looks like chai and smells like chai, and you've given it enough time, seemingly, for more of the water to boil out such that the milk takes its proper place to create a creamy consistency. The consistency should be right by now, so the spices can be removed and the sugar added. But wait! It's not thick enough yet! It's too watery! All of this time, and it's still not ready? What are we to do?
There are two options, no three, for how to proceed in the face of disappointing delay.
Option 1: Give up on the chai all together, concluding that the recipe was all wrong, and all of the time, energy, and ingredients invested were spent on a lost cause. You got it wrong. Pour out your progress, and count your losses, since you don't believe more time will really help. The recipe's wrong, remember?
Option 2: Keep believing, keep stirring, just give that chai more time, and test the consistency periodically to know when it's ready for the next stage. You got the recipe right...it's just going to take more time than you thought. Stick with it, thirsty for chai though you may be, and neglectful as you might operate towards the other needs in your day.
I'll share Option 3 right after I expound on these first two. Option 1 is in some regard, the safest route, since if the recipe is indeed wrong, more time is not necessarily going to help things. It will just end up in more wasted time and greater disappointment after further hope and time were invested. But it's also the most wasteful option if indeed the recipe turns out to be right and what's needed really is more time. Option 2 is a good bet, as on many occasions, more time and patience is what's needed, though the fast pace of a high-speed, instant-everything society can make that difficult. Even so, if the recipe is right, then the ingredients are fine, and it's important to give the process its due.
But there's a problem with Option 2. Continuing with the metaphor of chai-making, this second option keeps one stirring and staring at the brew that is becoming, leaving the maker very thirsty and wanting in the process, and neglecting other needful activities that would have otherwise made for a very good day. You've heard the term "stir-crazy?" Well, I'd say that in some cases, that's an appropriate descriptor of what this option can do to a maker of chai who does not know how long it will be until the consistency is right. Having made many chai's myself, I know what it's like to stew in front of the pot, stirring, waiting, checking, tasting, waiting some more...And the thing about chai is that you can't simply leave it to simmer on its own, not the way I do it anyway. Somebody MUST remain with the pot at all times, lest the milk get too hot and boil over. But we don't want to go stir-crazy either, do we? So what's the solution? That's where Option 3 comes into play! Ready?
Option 3: Continue stirring for a bit, realizing that the recipe is right---you didn't get it wrong---and it's just going to need more time, and when God comes walking into the kitchen, offering to take your place at the stove, gladly accept his offer. Here's how I see this playing out between him and me or him and you:
God: Hey, it smells good!
You/Me: Yeah, I thought it was going to be a really good chai, but I don't know now.
God: My recipe's good. And I saw you getting everything ready. You're gonna be fine. Just give it some more time.
You/Me: That's what I was thinking too, that it just needs more time, and I should just be patient. But I don't know. I'm going stir-crazy here standing in front of this stove! I smell the chai, and I see it's going to be good, but I can't have it right now. And I'm really ready for some caffeination!
God: Why don't you let me take your place here, and mosey on into the living room. I made you some tea there, some of your favorite, and there's some shortbread for you too. Go. Take a rest. I'll let you know when this is ready. It's my recipe anyway, remember? You go and relax. Chai is supposed to be life-giving, not soul-sucking.
You/Me: Ain't that the truth? Okay, God. Thanks for taking over. Let me know if you want me to come back and stir some more.
God: Will do! Enjoy!
So, what does this look like practically? There are obviously different ramifications for whatever your particular situation is and depending upon what your particular chai is in this case. But I think these tips are fair across the board:
1. Get out of the kitchen for awhile. Find some space where you're not looking at and smelling the aromas of the chai that's just not ready yet. (In reality, that would be very difficult if making true chai in a small space, but perhaps your living space is larger than mine. This is where the metaphor breaks down, but ah well.)
2. Enjoy the tea that's already brewed and whatever treats are available to soothe your hunger. I find that God is always preparing something for the future, so what did he prepare in the past that finds its future present today? That last question might have felt like a quandry in time travel, so here it is another way: If something's not ready to enjoy right now, what IS ready? What is around you that is perfect for this present season? Go invest in that. The chai will continue to brew, and God will tell you when it's ready or when he wants your help again in the making.
3. The best things take time. Good chai cannot be rushed. Neither can the richest gifts that God wants to give us. If there's tremendous delay, it might just mean that the end result is going to be better than you thought. A baby takes 9 months to grow in the mother's womb, and even after birth, it still has a lot of growing to do. But it's always becoming more complete, its richness revealed layers at a time. Enjoy the process. But if the process is maddening, go back to suggestions 1 and 2 above. :-)
I myself am a dreamer. I don't typically go for the mediocre, which means that I go for the biggest adventures instead, the greatest desires. A great story, however, often requires many chapters, and that will unfortunately involve some delay. But which story would you rather be living? Or to go back to our chai metaphor, which brew would you rather be drinking? Watery and weak, or the creamy and rich, that most beloved substance? I'll take the latter...and I'll gladly let God stir...so I don't go crazy. Won't you join me in the other room for some tea and cookies in the meantime?
P.S. If you would like a soundtrack for this post, listen to the song "Run" by Collective Soul.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Desire's End or What Pac-Man Really Wants
For the past month or two, I have been intrigued by some sayings that I came across in the book of Proverbs, sayings that have to do with desire. I have been trying to wrap my mind and heart around these verses because on the surface they seem so good, yet at the same time, experience could dictate otherwise. Which is it? Are these sayings untrue, or do I need to go deeper to discover what they are really saying? Today, I want to talk about DESIRE through the lens of these three proverbs. I bet you are wondering what they are. Let's jump in!
King Solomon, the same guy I quoted much of in my last post, had this to say about desire in a book we now know as Proverbs: "The desire of the righteous ends only in good, but the hope of the wicked only in wrath." -Proverbs 11:23
Lest this proverb be shucked off an anomaly and not worth really considering, there are two other proverbs that say something very similar in the chapter just before: "What the wicked dreads will overtake him; what the righteous desire will be granted." -Proverbs 10:24
"The prospect of the righteous is joy, but the hopes of the wicked come to nothing." -Proverbs 10:28
Do you see a pattern here? See what this king is saying? It almost seems too good to be true, when taken at face value, and too many experiences of failed hopes can further the argument to give these sayings little real attention and to quickly move on. But we can't move on. We shouldn't. We'll miss something very deep, very important. And since when does experience become the barometer for truth? I find that often my own experiences have been misinterpreted by a cloudy vision on my part, thus preventing myself from knowing the truth of a situation for what it really was. So let's include experience in our discourse but treat it with less weight than it is due.
I want to break this apart some, as I do believe King Solomon is getting at something deeper than what's on the surface of these verses. Yet what is on the surface is not to be missed. Let's just focus on the first one. It says that "the desire of the righteous ends only in good," as opposed to the hopes of the wicked, which don't end well. Here is where experience would come in and tell us, "Ah, ah! Not so fast! That's not how it really works. Look at all of those selfish people who do whatever they want at the demise of others and get away with it! They get what they want. Their hopes aren't completely deflated." Or, experience might say something like this, on the other side: "You consider yourself righteous, yet look at all of the desires in your life that haven't been fulfilled. Look at all of the times in which you've hoped and not received that which you desired. Surely something is wrong here."
I was journaling just earlier, and trying to pick apart this proverb in question (from Proverbs 11:23). Something hit me. It is perhaps the END of our desire that it truly fulfilled, and I don't simply mean "end" as in "end of life," though that can be true at times. It hit me that someone who has a truly righteous desire, a hope or want that comes from a place that is pure and is centered in God, is going to indeed get that desire fulfilled, the root of it, or the END of it.
Let's look at it this way. If you are desiring to do something great with your life and have a specific way in which you aim to do it, it is very likely that you will achieve that, but perhaps you won't. However, the desire itself is good, what is driving it and what is at the root, so the END of that desire (what ends up actually fulfilling it) is going to be nothing but good. Make sense yet? Let's break it down further:
Let's look at Pac-Man. ("Pac-Man?" you might ask. Yes, Pac-Man. It just came to me. Let's see where this goes.) What is Pac-Man's desire. His desire is to eat all of the little dots in his path, and the fruits along the way while preventing getting eaten by any ghosts. There are many ways in which Pac-Man can do this, but let's pretend that he had one set of directions he wanted to follow, and one set only.
"I, Pac-Man, want to go straight, left, up, left, and right, then eat only cherries and and a banana along the way to my destination."
Now, what if Pac-Man, because of the ghosts who come along to corner him, has to take a different route? Suppose he gets to go straight, left, and up, but finds he has to go right first, then right again? And what if he missed the cherries and banana but he got a good gulp of strawberry along the way? Let us also suppose that Pac-Man completed his level. He arrived at his destination, and the end of it was good. Did he get what he wanted?
I think our lives are similar. There are all kind of things that we desire, when perhaps what we really desire beyond the specifics are the root, heart fulfillments that those specifics provide. In Pac-Man's case, he wants to get to his goal in a certain manner and have some tart and sweet fruit along the way (the cherries and the banana). Maybe he could have gotten everything just as he wished, but in our example, he got strawberries instead (and went another route). I conjecture that strawberries are both tart AND sweet, so Pac-Man got the better deal. And he reached the end of his destination, albeit going a different way.
Am I saying that we are never to desire specific things, since there is something deeper underneath that we want and will receive the root fulfillment from? No, not at all. Actually, I would say the opposite. In a world where multiple ghosts and roadblocks come to divert us from the path we've set ourselves on (Pac-Man, speak, mind you), it is all too easy to give up on desiring wholeheartedly and instead settle for whatever comes, or worse, remaining complacently stationary. It is good for Pac-Man to want those cherries, just as it is good for us to desire specific things! Maybe he will get the cherries (he sometimes does), and maybe we will achieve what we are specifically desiring (often times we do). I daresay it is in pursuit of those desires that we can come to a place of receiving the END of that desire, whether it is what we specifically sought out for or not. Imagine Pac-Man not moving anywhere. Those ghosts would gobble him up in a second, and do so repeatedly until...yup...Game Over. But that is not you and me. No, we shall be brave enough to desire, and we will win. Leave the wrath for those pesky ghosts. That's the end of their desire.
Are you afraid to desire? Are you desiring, but not desiring as big and and boldly as you think or know you can? Don't brace yourself for disappointment and forget to move. That's no way to live. Desire boldly, and let that desire move you in extravagant pursuit of that which you long for. If your desire is rooted in righteousness, you'll be fine. And the way to make sure it is rooted in righteousness is...well, I'll leave you with one other verse, one of my favorites, from the Psalms, and you can figure it out.
"Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart." -Psalm 37:4
King Solomon, the same guy I quoted much of in my last post, had this to say about desire in a book we now know as Proverbs: "The desire of the righteous ends only in good, but the hope of the wicked only in wrath." -Proverbs 11:23
Lest this proverb be shucked off an anomaly and not worth really considering, there are two other proverbs that say something very similar in the chapter just before: "What the wicked dreads will overtake him; what the righteous desire will be granted." -Proverbs 10:24
"The prospect of the righteous is joy, but the hopes of the wicked come to nothing." -Proverbs 10:28
Do you see a pattern here? See what this king is saying? It almost seems too good to be true, when taken at face value, and too many experiences of failed hopes can further the argument to give these sayings little real attention and to quickly move on. But we can't move on. We shouldn't. We'll miss something very deep, very important. And since when does experience become the barometer for truth? I find that often my own experiences have been misinterpreted by a cloudy vision on my part, thus preventing myself from knowing the truth of a situation for what it really was. So let's include experience in our discourse but treat it with less weight than it is due.
I want to break this apart some, as I do believe King Solomon is getting at something deeper than what's on the surface of these verses. Yet what is on the surface is not to be missed. Let's just focus on the first one. It says that "the desire of the righteous ends only in good," as opposed to the hopes of the wicked, which don't end well. Here is where experience would come in and tell us, "Ah, ah! Not so fast! That's not how it really works. Look at all of those selfish people who do whatever they want at the demise of others and get away with it! They get what they want. Their hopes aren't completely deflated." Or, experience might say something like this, on the other side: "You consider yourself righteous, yet look at all of the desires in your life that haven't been fulfilled. Look at all of the times in which you've hoped and not received that which you desired. Surely something is wrong here."
I was journaling just earlier, and trying to pick apart this proverb in question (from Proverbs 11:23). Something hit me. It is perhaps the END of our desire that it truly fulfilled, and I don't simply mean "end" as in "end of life," though that can be true at times. It hit me that someone who has a truly righteous desire, a hope or want that comes from a place that is pure and is centered in God, is going to indeed get that desire fulfilled, the root of it, or the END of it.
Let's look at it this way. If you are desiring to do something great with your life and have a specific way in which you aim to do it, it is very likely that you will achieve that, but perhaps you won't. However, the desire itself is good, what is driving it and what is at the root, so the END of that desire (what ends up actually fulfilling it) is going to be nothing but good. Make sense yet? Let's break it down further:
Let's look at Pac-Man. ("Pac-Man?" you might ask. Yes, Pac-Man. It just came to me. Let's see where this goes.) What is Pac-Man's desire. His desire is to eat all of the little dots in his path, and the fruits along the way while preventing getting eaten by any ghosts. There are many ways in which Pac-Man can do this, but let's pretend that he had one set of directions he wanted to follow, and one set only.
"I, Pac-Man, want to go straight, left, up, left, and right, then eat only cherries and and a banana along the way to my destination."
Now, what if Pac-Man, because of the ghosts who come along to corner him, has to take a different route? Suppose he gets to go straight, left, and up, but finds he has to go right first, then right again? And what if he missed the cherries and banana but he got a good gulp of strawberry along the way? Let us also suppose that Pac-Man completed his level. He arrived at his destination, and the end of it was good. Did he get what he wanted?
I think our lives are similar. There are all kind of things that we desire, when perhaps what we really desire beyond the specifics are the root, heart fulfillments that those specifics provide. In Pac-Man's case, he wants to get to his goal in a certain manner and have some tart and sweet fruit along the way (the cherries and the banana). Maybe he could have gotten everything just as he wished, but in our example, he got strawberries instead (and went another route). I conjecture that strawberries are both tart AND sweet, so Pac-Man got the better deal. And he reached the end of his destination, albeit going a different way.
Am I saying that we are never to desire specific things, since there is something deeper underneath that we want and will receive the root fulfillment from? No, not at all. Actually, I would say the opposite. In a world where multiple ghosts and roadblocks come to divert us from the path we've set ourselves on (Pac-Man, speak, mind you), it is all too easy to give up on desiring wholeheartedly and instead settle for whatever comes, or worse, remaining complacently stationary. It is good for Pac-Man to want those cherries, just as it is good for us to desire specific things! Maybe he will get the cherries (he sometimes does), and maybe we will achieve what we are specifically desiring (often times we do). I daresay it is in pursuit of those desires that we can come to a place of receiving the END of that desire, whether it is what we specifically sought out for or not. Imagine Pac-Man not moving anywhere. Those ghosts would gobble him up in a second, and do so repeatedly until...yup...Game Over. But that is not you and me. No, we shall be brave enough to desire, and we will win. Leave the wrath for those pesky ghosts. That's the end of their desire.
Are you afraid to desire? Are you desiring, but not desiring as big and and boldly as you think or know you can? Don't brace yourself for disappointment and forget to move. That's no way to live. Desire boldly, and let that desire move you in extravagant pursuit of that which you long for. If your desire is rooted in righteousness, you'll be fine. And the way to make sure it is rooted in righteousness is...well, I'll leave you with one other verse, one of my favorites, from the Psalms, and you can figure it out.
"Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart." -Psalm 37:4
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Forever Chai: Navigating What's Supposed to Last...When it Doesn't
Sometimes, things disappear. In fact, with time, almost all things do.
"My David, that's a bleak way to start, don't you think?"
Stick with me, and you may enjoy where this is going. It's going to get good.
A few days ago, I set up a meeting at one of the only places I know of to get good, home-brewed chai in Chicago: Safari Cup. Imagine my surprise when I arrived to an empty shell of the coffee shop that once provided by most beloved substance. (Sound familiar? Something similar happened with me in regard to Borders Cafes years ago.) The only trace of the haven where I once enjoyed such solace with my beloved beverage was a sign with the old shop's logo on the side of the building, boasting of what had been but is, alas, no longer. After some discouragement, I was actually encouraged by this stark reminder of a truth that feels very important for me to remember in this season of letting go and preparing for what's to come. That's what I want to spend some time exploring today.
I am someone who places great value on people, experiences, places, and anything else in my life that provides me with the rich flavors of life. I value these so much, in fact, that it is very hard for me to let go of them when they are longer present. Something feels irreconcilable in this, as if I could never forget these rich fountains that once flowed so beautifully and freely in my life but have stopped flowing for various reasons. In my heart, I'm longing for the eternal, as Solomon wrote in his famous book of wisdom, Ecclesiastes:
"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart..." -Ecclesiastes 3:11
Unfortunately, we live in a tension of this temporal life on earth and the promise of all things being made new through Jesus, banishing death once and for all. So what are we to do in the in between, the reality of things passing away and the equal reality of our human desire for what's beautiful to remain forever? I think the answer may have to do with one word: process.
Process implies movement. In life, there is movement from one moment to another, one stage to the next, and in order to move to, there must be a moving from. I spoke earlier about wanting to hold onto what's beautiful from the past. And while memories have their place, they are not a very sustainable place to live. A prophet named Isaiah hit this right on the nail as he was claiming to speak on God's behalf. I think God was giving the people of that old time a key to life that also applies to our lives here today. He says,
"Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland." -Isaiah 43:18-19
Did you catch that? It seems impossible to forget the past completely, especially those things which were very beautiful or even painful. Both beauty and pain can cut us so deeply. Sometimes, beauty can cause the most pain when it's no longer a present reality. And I think that's what Isaiah is getting at here. Forget the things of the past in as much as they are causing you to live in the past. There's no life there. There's no chai at Safari Cup in Chicago any longer. It's somewhere else! So take your eyes off of the rearview mirror and look ahead at the surroundings in front of you so that you can see where the chai is located now. I use the metaphor of chai, but you can insert just about anything here.
What I often do, and I think what many of us end up doing when some major, life-giving establishment no longer remains is that we fixate on the ruins, either lamenting or re-imagining what was inside, and hoping that this will somehow change things. It doesn't. The next big thing might just be across the street, or a few blocks down. Maybe it's being built so it's visibility is not the highest on your reality radar. But if we'll take our eyes off of the old thing and look up, we might just see what's coming. He says, "See, I am doing a new thing!" I love that. "SEE!" I also love that the places where God builds something new for us are often in the places that we would least expect, the places that are hitherto unexplored by us...the wilderness...the wasteland.
At the beginning of this post, I mentioned a verse from Ecclesiastes, but I specifically left off the second part of the verse, until now. Here is the full version: "He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end."
Beginning to end...If we can live in the present, enjoy the process, and look to the future, we won't get stuck dwelling in the past...or trying to drink chai in a building that's vacant.
"My David, that's a bleak way to start, don't you think?"
Stick with me, and you may enjoy where this is going. It's going to get good.
A few days ago, I set up a meeting at one of the only places I know of to get good, home-brewed chai in Chicago: Safari Cup. Imagine my surprise when I arrived to an empty shell of the coffee shop that once provided by most beloved substance. (Sound familiar? Something similar happened with me in regard to Borders Cafes years ago.) The only trace of the haven where I once enjoyed such solace with my beloved beverage was a sign with the old shop's logo on the side of the building, boasting of what had been but is, alas, no longer. After some discouragement, I was actually encouraged by this stark reminder of a truth that feels very important for me to remember in this season of letting go and preparing for what's to come. That's what I want to spend some time exploring today.
I am someone who places great value on people, experiences, places, and anything else in my life that provides me with the rich flavors of life. I value these so much, in fact, that it is very hard for me to let go of them when they are longer present. Something feels irreconcilable in this, as if I could never forget these rich fountains that once flowed so beautifully and freely in my life but have stopped flowing for various reasons. In my heart, I'm longing for the eternal, as Solomon wrote in his famous book of wisdom, Ecclesiastes:
"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart..." -Ecclesiastes 3:11
Unfortunately, we live in a tension of this temporal life on earth and the promise of all things being made new through Jesus, banishing death once and for all. So what are we to do in the in between, the reality of things passing away and the equal reality of our human desire for what's beautiful to remain forever? I think the answer may have to do with one word: process.
Process implies movement. In life, there is movement from one moment to another, one stage to the next, and in order to move to, there must be a moving from. I spoke earlier about wanting to hold onto what's beautiful from the past. And while memories have their place, they are not a very sustainable place to live. A prophet named Isaiah hit this right on the nail as he was claiming to speak on God's behalf. I think God was giving the people of that old time a key to life that also applies to our lives here today. He says,
"Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness
and streams in the wasteland." -Isaiah 43:18-19
Did you catch that? It seems impossible to forget the past completely, especially those things which were very beautiful or even painful. Both beauty and pain can cut us so deeply. Sometimes, beauty can cause the most pain when it's no longer a present reality. And I think that's what Isaiah is getting at here. Forget the things of the past in as much as they are causing you to live in the past. There's no life there. There's no chai at Safari Cup in Chicago any longer. It's somewhere else! So take your eyes off of the rearview mirror and look ahead at the surroundings in front of you so that you can see where the chai is located now. I use the metaphor of chai, but you can insert just about anything here.
What I often do, and I think what many of us end up doing when some major, life-giving establishment no longer remains is that we fixate on the ruins, either lamenting or re-imagining what was inside, and hoping that this will somehow change things. It doesn't. The next big thing might just be across the street, or a few blocks down. Maybe it's being built so it's visibility is not the highest on your reality radar. But if we'll take our eyes off of the old thing and look up, we might just see what's coming. He says, "See, I am doing a new thing!" I love that. "SEE!" I also love that the places where God builds something new for us are often in the places that we would least expect, the places that are hitherto unexplored by us...the wilderness...the wasteland.
At the beginning of this post, I mentioned a verse from Ecclesiastes, but I specifically left off the second part of the verse, until now. Here is the full version: "He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end."
Beginning to end...If we can live in the present, enjoy the process, and look to the future, we won't get stuck dwelling in the past...or trying to drink chai in a building that's vacant.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Summer's Winter: Seasons of the Soul
What happens when the season around you is not the same as the season within you? How are you to proceed when it's winter outside but springtime in your heart, or summer outside but winter within?
I am experiencing such a juxtaposition in this current season of my life, and I've had a discovery which I hope will be helpful to others in navigating the seasons of their life.
At the time of this writing, it is mid-June, and I find myself still at the beginning of a beautiful, Chicago summer, with its blissful sunbeams and the perfect combination of cool and warmth blended in the breeze boasting of promise and long-awaited rest. Everybody in Chicago loves the summer. It's what keeps so many of us here to endure what often feels like a never-ending winter (and a sometimes brutal one at that). So why is it that this summer I couldn't be happier for summer to be over? I daresay it has to do with my internal season.
If you have read any of my previous posts from the past few months, you may be able to infer that the earlier months of this year, those of the winter, actually, were quite a marvelous season for me, given the abundance of life and fulfillment that I was experiencing in the gifts that God had provided for me. Aside from the fact that I have a special place in my heart for snow, I am convinced that my experience of the physical season of winter was tempered by the incredible springtime bursting with new life and hope within my soul and spirit. The springtime (or summer) of my soul brought the flowering of new love, and with it, several new experiences through which God brought immense fulfillment and healing to some very deep parts of me.
As with all seasons, however, some plants survive, while others do not. Externally, winter was turning to spring while whispering wistfully of the summer that would come. Internally, I felt a swift cold front and all that naturally follows.
I was crying to God recently, lamenting all of the pain that I have been experiencing both with the death of this relationship and the ebb of other friendships and landmarks that have been very life-giving to me during my time here in Chicago. I was reckoning the fact that I am going to be leaving this place in a matter of months to begin a new journey in New York City, and while excited for the implications of that new journey, I was keenly aware of the deep loss that will accompany such a relocation. I experienced such a relocation 5 years ago, moving from Houston, TX to Chicago, IL for further pursuit of original theatre work, and while the rewards have been many and worth the cost, the loss and pain preceding the prize was immense. What was adding to my grief and frustration in the midst of my lament before God was the acute awareness of summer, with its festivals, its light, the myriad of joy in fellowship that it always brings...and the fact that my internal temperature was incongruent.
That same night, not long after, God spoke to me gently, saying, "David, this is a winter for you. You just came out of a glorious season, and it was beautiful in its time. Even so, this is a different season characterized by things dying so that other things can grow in their place when the next season begins. Embrace the season, knowing that it is not going to be easy, nor is it supposed to be---death and goodbyes are not fun---and you will experience greater peace in the midst of it."
Was God being morbid? No, I don't think so. He speaks often of the joy that we can have in the midst of abundance or lack and the joy that his presence brings whatever the circumstances. Just see the Psalms or any of Paul's writings for such descriptions. No, it wasn't morbidity that God was after when speaking to me about this season of death, but rather a mature, face-to-face look at the reality as it stood (and stands) at the present moment. This is not going to be easy, and my life is slowly shutting down in this place, so I should proceed in a manner appropriate to the season. You don't plant new seed in the middle of winter or expect a harvest in the middle of a snowstorm. (Yes, anything is possible with God, but I am speaking generally right now.) Funny enough, I did have more peace after recognizing this season and accepting it. Did I receive comfort in that moment? No. But I did receive some peace...and a bit of hope.
Accepting the season as a winter released me from feeling guilty about my lack of festivity and gaiety over the season of summer. It's summer on the outside, and while I will try to enjoy of it what I can, I need not feel bad about wanting it to be over. What I am experiencing is a normal progression, and God is with me in that, not expecting me to be in a place that I am not.
Here is the main reason this gives me such hope. If I am currently in a winter, that means that a springtime is coming soon when ice melts and new life bursts forth with the brilliance of a sunrise after a long, cold night. Ironically, my internal springtime will come in an external season which has always been so life-giving to me, that of the fall--also coinciding with my birthday, celebrating my third decade. What a perfect picture of death and rebirth, the ending of one year and the beginning of another.
Solomon had it right when he said that there is a time for everything, a season for every activity under the sun. I encourage you to consider what season you may be in right now and to ponder how you might work with that season, not against it. Would you wear a wintercoat in the heat of the summer? Or shorts in the winter? Check your soul...and if you can't figure out what season you're in, there is One who knows the weather of your life much better than you or I ever could. He can calm a storm in an instant, calling for peace until you current passage ends and a new one begins. Just ask Jesus. He might even invite you for drink of chai...and chai is good for every season. ;-)
" A Time for Everything
3 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace."
-Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
I am experiencing such a juxtaposition in this current season of my life, and I've had a discovery which I hope will be helpful to others in navigating the seasons of their life.
At the time of this writing, it is mid-June, and I find myself still at the beginning of a beautiful, Chicago summer, with its blissful sunbeams and the perfect combination of cool and warmth blended in the breeze boasting of promise and long-awaited rest. Everybody in Chicago loves the summer. It's what keeps so many of us here to endure what often feels like a never-ending winter (and a sometimes brutal one at that). So why is it that this summer I couldn't be happier for summer to be over? I daresay it has to do with my internal season.
If you have read any of my previous posts from the past few months, you may be able to infer that the earlier months of this year, those of the winter, actually, were quite a marvelous season for me, given the abundance of life and fulfillment that I was experiencing in the gifts that God had provided for me. Aside from the fact that I have a special place in my heart for snow, I am convinced that my experience of the physical season of winter was tempered by the incredible springtime bursting with new life and hope within my soul and spirit. The springtime (or summer) of my soul brought the flowering of new love, and with it, several new experiences through which God brought immense fulfillment and healing to some very deep parts of me.
As with all seasons, however, some plants survive, while others do not. Externally, winter was turning to spring while whispering wistfully of the summer that would come. Internally, I felt a swift cold front and all that naturally follows.
I was crying to God recently, lamenting all of the pain that I have been experiencing both with the death of this relationship and the ebb of other friendships and landmarks that have been very life-giving to me during my time here in Chicago. I was reckoning the fact that I am going to be leaving this place in a matter of months to begin a new journey in New York City, and while excited for the implications of that new journey, I was keenly aware of the deep loss that will accompany such a relocation. I experienced such a relocation 5 years ago, moving from Houston, TX to Chicago, IL for further pursuit of original theatre work, and while the rewards have been many and worth the cost, the loss and pain preceding the prize was immense. What was adding to my grief and frustration in the midst of my lament before God was the acute awareness of summer, with its festivals, its light, the myriad of joy in fellowship that it always brings...and the fact that my internal temperature was incongruent.
That same night, not long after, God spoke to me gently, saying, "David, this is a winter for you. You just came out of a glorious season, and it was beautiful in its time. Even so, this is a different season characterized by things dying so that other things can grow in their place when the next season begins. Embrace the season, knowing that it is not going to be easy, nor is it supposed to be---death and goodbyes are not fun---and you will experience greater peace in the midst of it."
Was God being morbid? No, I don't think so. He speaks often of the joy that we can have in the midst of abundance or lack and the joy that his presence brings whatever the circumstances. Just see the Psalms or any of Paul's writings for such descriptions. No, it wasn't morbidity that God was after when speaking to me about this season of death, but rather a mature, face-to-face look at the reality as it stood (and stands) at the present moment. This is not going to be easy, and my life is slowly shutting down in this place, so I should proceed in a manner appropriate to the season. You don't plant new seed in the middle of winter or expect a harvest in the middle of a snowstorm. (Yes, anything is possible with God, but I am speaking generally right now.) Funny enough, I did have more peace after recognizing this season and accepting it. Did I receive comfort in that moment? No. But I did receive some peace...and a bit of hope.
Accepting the season as a winter released me from feeling guilty about my lack of festivity and gaiety over the season of summer. It's summer on the outside, and while I will try to enjoy of it what I can, I need not feel bad about wanting it to be over. What I am experiencing is a normal progression, and God is with me in that, not expecting me to be in a place that I am not.
Here is the main reason this gives me such hope. If I am currently in a winter, that means that a springtime is coming soon when ice melts and new life bursts forth with the brilliance of a sunrise after a long, cold night. Ironically, my internal springtime will come in an external season which has always been so life-giving to me, that of the fall--also coinciding with my birthday, celebrating my third decade. What a perfect picture of death and rebirth, the ending of one year and the beginning of another.
Solomon had it right when he said that there is a time for everything, a season for every activity under the sun. I encourage you to consider what season you may be in right now and to ponder how you might work with that season, not against it. Would you wear a wintercoat in the heat of the summer? Or shorts in the winter? Check your soul...and if you can't figure out what season you're in, there is One who knows the weather of your life much better than you or I ever could. He can calm a storm in an instant, calling for peace until you current passage ends and a new one begins. Just ask Jesus. He might even invite you for drink of chai...and chai is good for every season. ;-)
" A Time for Everything
3 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace."
-Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Fountains of Chai
What is a fountain? Why is it that when you or I look at a fountain, we typically respond with joy or at least appreciate the beauty of what we're beholding? I want to talk about fountains today, particularly fountains of life, or in classic David imagery, fountains of chai. So, let us indulge together.
Drinking some home-brewed chai this morning and talking to God some (moreso reading his words and letting him talk to me), I was struck by some things that feel pivotal in terms of where I and others get our source of life, well-being and joy.
So...Fountains. What's with those bubbling bodies of water (or chocolate if we get lucky)? Other than the sheer beauty that fountains possess, I think that what makes fountains most alluring is that they are a source of constant flow, and typically a continual flow of that which we all need to survive: water (or once again, chocolate, for any of you chocoholics out there). Where so many other bodies of water have the potential to dry up, diminish, or become stagnant, a fountain, at its best, is ever flowing, majestic and beckoning onlookers to behold both its rootedness as a source and its ability to grow beyond gravity.
I find that these qualities also ring true for things or people in life that we look to for a source of joy. In my life, I have friends whose fellowship and presence at times represent grounded-ness, joy, and life. Or I look to artistic passions such as writing, acting, and producing theatre to fill my needs for excitement, beauty, joy, and rootedness. None of these are bad in themselves until I begin to look to them as my primary fountains. Why? Because there is only one fountain that is primary, and the rest can easily dry out at any moment, just like the chai ceased to flow at Borders years ago (my nightmare come true).
One of my fountains has felt very dry recently, and I found myself thirsty for fresh chai. Here's what I found:
"They feast on the abundance of your house; you give them drink from your river of delights." -Psalm 36:8.
There has been a time in history where people who claimed to know God also claimed to have an experience with him that one of their writers characterized as "abundant" and as if drinking from a "river of delights." That's some strong language! Is that still available? Why would anyone speak of such a river of delights with such confidence? The answer is perhaps in the next verse of this Psalm (which was actually a song in its original form):
"For with you is the fountain of life; in your light, we see light." -Psalm 36:9.
This Psalm is a song to God, and here in verse 9, the writer of the song is referring to God as the FOUNTAIN of life, or at least saying that it resides somewhere with this God. We also see the imagery of light, which during Chicago winters, many equate to hope and joy (or a lack thereof). So with this God is a fountain (source) of life, and light which helps us to see light. Interesting words, once again.
I will not list all of the references to the well-being of soul that I have recently come across in the Psalms, but suffice to say that there are PLENTY! In learning about the soul, it seems that the soul is that place where our bodies and hearts receive nourishment, where we desperately desire love, affection, meaning, and everything that a fountain of life could possibly provide. And God is acutely aware of our souls' deep needs:
"I will be glad and rejoice in your love, for you saw my affliction and knew the anguish of my soul. You have not handed me over to the enemy but have set my feet in a spacious place."-Psalm 31:7-8.
Moving from water to chai, a drink which caffeinates, awakens, and just plain makes me happy, So where can I get my chai that doesn't run out? What does it mean to feast on the abundance of God's house, to drink from his river of delights? If the fountain is with God, and in his light we can see light, where is that fountain and how do I get it? A woman from Samaria once had a similar conversation with God, and here's what Jesus had to say, regarding two kinds of water.
"Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again. But whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life."- John 4:13-14.
Hmm...Sounds kind of like a fountain to me. Elsewhere, Jesus says that he is the equivalent to bread, and the bread of life, as if we are to get our sustenance from him just like we would get our physical sustenance from one of the most basic of foods. And he goes onto say that the person who believes in him would never go thirsty. I have to believe he was speaking about more than just physical bread and water.
What are you thirsty for? What is your chai, the thing that caffeinates you and provides your soul with a sense of invigoration and well-being? Where are your fountains? And what might it be like to drink of Jesus as the primary fountain? If Jesus' claims are true and if the experiences of these Old Testament Jewish writers are true, then something is available that must be better and richer than any normal feast or fountain could provide. I've tasted it and want more....fountains of his chai*.
"Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare." -Isaiah 55:2b
"Taste and see that the Lord is good. Blessed is the one who takes refuge in him." -Psalm 34:8
*A friend of mine once told me that the letters "chai" also make up a Hebrew word which means "life." Bring on the chai and lots of it!
Drinking some home-brewed chai this morning and talking to God some (moreso reading his words and letting him talk to me), I was struck by some things that feel pivotal in terms of where I and others get our source of life, well-being and joy.
So...Fountains. What's with those bubbling bodies of water (or chocolate if we get lucky)? Other than the sheer beauty that fountains possess, I think that what makes fountains most alluring is that they are a source of constant flow, and typically a continual flow of that which we all need to survive: water (or once again, chocolate, for any of you chocoholics out there). Where so many other bodies of water have the potential to dry up, diminish, or become stagnant, a fountain, at its best, is ever flowing, majestic and beckoning onlookers to behold both its rootedness as a source and its ability to grow beyond gravity.
I find that these qualities also ring true for things or people in life that we look to for a source of joy. In my life, I have friends whose fellowship and presence at times represent grounded-ness, joy, and life. Or I look to artistic passions such as writing, acting, and producing theatre to fill my needs for excitement, beauty, joy, and rootedness. None of these are bad in themselves until I begin to look to them as my primary fountains. Why? Because there is only one fountain that is primary, and the rest can easily dry out at any moment, just like the chai ceased to flow at Borders years ago (my nightmare come true).
One of my fountains has felt very dry recently, and I found myself thirsty for fresh chai. Here's what I found:
"They feast on the abundance of your house; you give them drink from your river of delights." -Psalm 36:8.
There has been a time in history where people who claimed to know God also claimed to have an experience with him that one of their writers characterized as "abundant" and as if drinking from a "river of delights." That's some strong language! Is that still available? Why would anyone speak of such a river of delights with such confidence? The answer is perhaps in the next verse of this Psalm (which was actually a song in its original form):
"For with you is the fountain of life; in your light, we see light." -Psalm 36:9.
This Psalm is a song to God, and here in verse 9, the writer of the song is referring to God as the FOUNTAIN of life, or at least saying that it resides somewhere with this God. We also see the imagery of light, which during Chicago winters, many equate to hope and joy (or a lack thereof). So with this God is a fountain (source) of life, and light which helps us to see light. Interesting words, once again.
I will not list all of the references to the well-being of soul that I have recently come across in the Psalms, but suffice to say that there are PLENTY! In learning about the soul, it seems that the soul is that place where our bodies and hearts receive nourishment, where we desperately desire love, affection, meaning, and everything that a fountain of life could possibly provide. And God is acutely aware of our souls' deep needs:
"I will be glad and rejoice in your love, for you saw my affliction and knew the anguish of my soul. You have not handed me over to the enemy but have set my feet in a spacious place."-Psalm 31:7-8.
Moving from water to chai, a drink which caffeinates, awakens, and just plain makes me happy, So where can I get my chai that doesn't run out? What does it mean to feast on the abundance of God's house, to drink from his river of delights? If the fountain is with God, and in his light we can see light, where is that fountain and how do I get it? A woman from Samaria once had a similar conversation with God, and here's what Jesus had to say, regarding two kinds of water.
"Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again. But whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life."- John 4:13-14.
Hmm...Sounds kind of like a fountain to me. Elsewhere, Jesus says that he is the equivalent to bread, and the bread of life, as if we are to get our sustenance from him just like we would get our physical sustenance from one of the most basic of foods. And he goes onto say that the person who believes in him would never go thirsty. I have to believe he was speaking about more than just physical bread and water.
What are you thirsty for? What is your chai, the thing that caffeinates you and provides your soul with a sense of invigoration and well-being? Where are your fountains? And what might it be like to drink of Jesus as the primary fountain? If Jesus' claims are true and if the experiences of these Old Testament Jewish writers are true, then something is available that must be better and richer than any normal feast or fountain could provide. I've tasted it and want more....fountains of his chai*.
"Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare." -Isaiah 55:2b
"Taste and see that the Lord is good. Blessed is the one who takes refuge in him." -Psalm 34:8
*A friend of mine once told me that the letters "chai" also make up a Hebrew word which means "life." Bring on the chai and lots of it!
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Tree at Last
What can you do when your place of greatest hope begins to infringe on your deepest disappointment? What is one to do when cold, hard retreat and impending satisfaction neither seem viable options?
Can one who is lame ever dare to truly walk on his own, when any attempts made previously ended in the same pitiful falling? And by the same token, can one bear to deny any future hope for a successful, stabilized attempt?
Such is the bittersweet flower we call "hope." It is at once a sweet fragrance and a putrid odor, depending on which side of a moment it stands.
Hope...deferred makes the heart sick. But a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.
Some shoots may grow into beautiful trees, even out of what was once a stump perhaps. But how many times can such a stump bear to extend a fresh, green shoot, groping towards heaven, before it becomes weary of the constant chopping down which it is never quite, and somehow always, accustomed to?
As my mom, Cat Ello, wrote in one of her songs years ago,
"Jesus, Gardner of my heart,
break this fallow ground apart."
Oh to be tree....tree indeed.
Can one who is lame ever dare to truly walk on his own, when any attempts made previously ended in the same pitiful falling? And by the same token, can one bear to deny any future hope for a successful, stabilized attempt?
Such is the bittersweet flower we call "hope." It is at once a sweet fragrance and a putrid odor, depending on which side of a moment it stands.
Hope...deferred makes the heart sick. But a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.
Some shoots may grow into beautiful trees, even out of what was once a stump perhaps. But how many times can such a stump bear to extend a fresh, green shoot, groping towards heaven, before it becomes weary of the constant chopping down which it is never quite, and somehow always, accustomed to?
As my mom, Cat Ello, wrote in one of her songs years ago,
"Jesus, Gardner of my heart,
break this fallow ground apart."
Oh to be tree....tree indeed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)