17 Days In

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I reported to you earlier that I had decided to give up not only Facebook, but all forms of social media this year for Lent. Obviously excluding WordPress.

It’s been 17 days (by my count) out of 46. So far, so good. I haven’t missed social media like I thought I would. In fact, most of the time, I don’t really even think about it much.

I’ve used my newfound free time in catching up on my reading and movie watching. On the book front, I’m currently reading Anne of the Islands (the third book of the Anne of Green Gables series– don’t judge) as well as diligently reading through The Voice translation of the Bible (I’m up to Isaiah 23).

Recently, I re-watched all the Harry Potter movies and remembered why I liked them so much the first time. Also, I was astounded all over again at how many incredible well-known actors they enlisted for these film adaptations of children’s books.

I find myself less anxious and more calm without social media. I do miss seeing what my friends post, but I also don’t miss checking to see who commented on my own posts (a bad habit that I still sometimes struggle with).

I’m still praying for more discipline and more willingness to create space and silence for God to speak to me. I’m praying for the ability to quiet my own mind and listen to that Still Small Voice that will never compete with my own noise.

That’s all I have for now. I’ll keep you posted for the remaining 29 days of Lent.

Things I Love 35: Just When You Thought It Was Safe To Get Back on the Internet . . .

island hammock

“That which tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond. To Him. To the God whom we endlessly crave” (Ann VoskampOne Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are).

“God is good and I am always loved” (Ann VoskampOne Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are).

“The whole of the life — even the hard — is made up of the minute parts, and if I miss the infinitesimals, I miss the whole. These are new language lessons, and I live them out. There is a way to live the big of giving thanks in all things. It is this: to give thanks in this one small thing. The moments will add up”  (Ann VoskampOne Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are).

Yeah, just when you thought I was done with this series, I resuscitate it and bring it back from the world wide graveyard. I’m not even close to being finished with all these thousand and more gifts I’ve received in my lifetime. It’s probably closer to 10,000. Actually, if I were completely honest, there’d be no way to count the blessings in my life for no human number goes that high. So I’ll do my best, starting at #1,036.

1,036) Yet more good coffee and conversation with another friend at Frothy Monkey (after a bit of confusion as to which Frothy Monkey).

1,037) When I stop comparing myself to others and instead compare myself to where I used to be.

1,038) Politically Correct Bedtime Stories.

1,039) Seeing my Romanian friend and sister-in-Christ happily married.

1,040) Rubbing my bare feet against carpet.

1,041) Not getting elbowed in the head or having my bare feet stepped on during volleyball games.

1,042) That possibly the best days and moments of my life are still yet to come.

1,043) Not getting counted off anymore for split infinitives.

1,044) Friends who actually make time to keep up with me and encourage me regularly.

1,045) All the old episodes of Are You Being Served?

1,046) Memories of watching TV as a kid with my uncle in the old camper on our property in Christiana.

1,047) That I’m not named after an airline.

1,048) Anticipating yet another Jonny Lang album coming out in September.

1,049) My gigantic over-the-ears headphones that I use to listen to music late at night sometimes.

1,050) Making up words when I don’t know the actual lyrics to a song.

1,051) Finding out what the actual lyrics are to a song I’ve been singing wrong all this time.

1,052) Just about any movie or TV show featuring Judi Dench.

1,053) Catching up with Union University classmates.

1,054) Ditto for Briarcrest classmates.

1,055) That God loves the crazy people as much as the “sane” ones.

1,056) The short spontaneous conversation I had with the girl named Rebecca who was reading that Mark Batterson book.

1,057) Every one of the 300+ pictures I took at the Set Free VBS this year.

1,058) Seeing those kids being prayed over and loved on and shown Jesus.

1,059) Every time the Kingdom of God takes back a person or a place from the kingdom of darkness.

1,060) Mastering the art of making pimento cheese.

1,061) Saying the words “pimento cheese.”

1,062) Classic devotionals by people like Oswald Chambers and Charles Spurgeon.

1,063) Bowling a game over 100.

1,064) Silence. Sometimes.

1,065) That even my fidelity to God is a gift from God (thanks to Thomas Merton for that one.

1,066) Friends who know the song in my heart and can sing it back to me when I’ve forgotten the words.

1,067) Any old Frank Capra movie.

1,068) Not being in a hurry all the time.

1,069) Knowing that I have an Advocate and Defender who pleads for me before the Throne of God.

1,070) Not nearly being close to finished with these lists.

Waiting

Waiting is not doing nothing. Waiting is not sitting idly by watching for God to drop our dreams in our laps.

Waiting means getting ready. It means preparing your fields for rain so that in due time you may reap a harvest.

Waiting means an open mind, a listening ear, and a softened heart.

Waiting means trusting in God’s perfect timing, not forcing anything or speeding things up, but actively trusting that God knows what He’s doing and that what He’s doing is for His glory and for your good.

Waiting means letting go of what you’re grasping with clenched fists to receive what God is preparing you for. It means possibly letting go of something good to receive something better.

Waiting is not something you can learn about by reading up on it or studying other people who wait. You can only learn to wait by waiting, by experience of trial and error and frustration and impatients that finally resolves into peace and serenity and the faith of a child.

Waiting means living with tension and notes that don’t resolve. It means being content with not having answers, but only silence to your myriad of questions.

Waiting is to be still and know that Yahweh is God. He’s in control and His plans will prevail.

Waiting the right way is never in vain and never without its rewards, among those the being greater knowledge and closer intimacy with God. That and that alone is worth the costs that come with waiting.

There’s a lot more to learn about waiting that will take a lifetime to master, but I know this: waiting is a good thing.

 

Silence

I saw a silent movie tonight at the Franklin Theatre. Well, mostly silent. If you want an explanation, I recommend you rent or stream a movie called The Artist to find out.

It was a bit strange watching a movie with (almost) no spoken lines in a movie theatre. I think only one other silent movie has been made since Hollywood went to talking pictures back in 127.

Silence can be uncomfortable.

On occassion, I try to be still and silent to better be able to hear God’s voice. It’s harder than it sounds (and I get the irony in that last statement). I last maybe a minute or two until the ADD kicks in and I forgot what I was supposed to be silent and still about.

The culture we live in is addicted to noise. TV, radio, iPod, or excessive talking. It doesn’t matter. We can hardly go one second without noise, even if it’s background noise that we tune out.

But silence is golden. There’s truth to that cliche. The believers of old practised the art of silence. They took vows of silence and took retreats where they didn’t speak the entire time. I think they knew something we didn’t and consequently, many had a deeper, fuller walk with God.

Silence is also one way God speaks to us. Many times we want answers and God gives us silence. We say, “If only I knew that I wasn’t supposed to get married, I could move on with life” or “If only I knew I was supposed to look for a new job . . .”

We think silence is unanswered prayer. Many times, silence is God’s way of preparing us for something that is too big for us to receive right now. It’s like He is saying, “I’m holding out on the good right now so I can give you something great later on.”

Learning to be comfortable with silence is a sign of spiritual maturity. Too many times, silence seems deafening. We have too many voices in our heads screaming at us that we need to drown out with noise.

But when the voice of Jesus speaks, all other voices are stilled. We have true peace, perfect silence.

May you and I learn to be still and know that He is God.

 

Why I Am a Fan of Henri Nouwen

solitude

“In solitude we can slowly unmask the illusion of our possessiveness and discover in the center of our own self that we are not what we can conquer, but what is given to us. In solitude we can listen to the voice of him who spoke to us before we could speak a word, who healed us before we could make any gesture to help, who set us free long before we could free others, and who loved us long before we could give love to anyone. It is in this solitude that we discover that being is more important than having, and that we are worth more than the result of our efforts. In solitude we discover that our life is not a possession to be defended, but a gift to be shared. It’s there we recognize that the healing words we speak are not just our own, but are given to us; that the love we can express is part of a greater love; and that the new life we bring forth is not a property to cling to, but a gift to be received” (Henri J.M. Nouwen).

Henri Nouwen wrote that every single person ever born deals with aloneness, because every single one of us is unique and no one else will ever have our exact problems and issues and hang-ups and phobias.

He said we can either see our aloneness as a wound and thus turn it into loneliness or view it as a gift, where it becomes solitude. In solitude is where we can learn to be still and quiet and know that in truth, we are never really alone. God is with us.

Solitude makes us better people, better neighbors, better friends, better spouses, better lovers, and better disciples. We’re not clinging to each other out of a desparate need to not be lonely, but because we are finally comfortable with who we are in the times when we are alone with no noise to drown out our own thoughts.

That is my own wording of what I’ve been reading in The Only Necessary Thing, a compilation of Nouwen’s thoughts on living a prayerful life. Seriously, if you don’t read another one of my blogs, but read one of his books, I will be supremely happy. He’s that good.

That’s all for tonight. Let me know what you are reading that touches you deeply at the soul level. Maybe it’s a book that will do the same for me. And may the God of the earthquake and the God of the thunder also be the God of your silence and the God of your solitude. Amen.