What is your passion? Is it cars? Chocolate? College football? Golf? Music?
Hmmm..as I make out my hypothetical list, it seems easier to identify outside interests that are typically male-dominated (except for the chocolate, of course!) than those that are usually pursued by women. Why is that?
So what are women passionate about? Their children? Their grandchildren? Gardening? Cooking? Sewing? I don't recall hearing women frequently using the phrase, "I'm passionate..." about their hobbies or even their relationships. A certain food or a particular place, maybe.
And yet, in conversations, in everyday dramas, women speak and act very passionately about a great many things.
So I ask myself (since I am a woman) what am I passionate about? To answer this, I must consider more than emotion or attachment. Rather, I must ask, What stirs me deeper than anything else? Moves me or drives me stronger than anything else? What do I enjoy more intensely than anything else? What is life to me?
I do get passionate about my kids, but I am not obsessed with their accomplishments or achievements. Everything they do, however, is of great interest and concern to me. They are a chosen priority. I am never neutral or disinterested in any aspect of their lives.
I must admit some passion for my own personal achievement. Continued growth, learning, accomplishment.
I can get passionate about really fine chocolate. An excellent cup of coffee. Real Italian gelato. The Grand Teton Mountains. Italy.
I love music! Anything I do is always made better by music. Housework is tolerable, if the radio or CD is playing. My worship is enhanced by musical expression.
And that leads me to my spiritual passion. Truly, none of my other passions would have any satisfaction without a passionate relationship with God. My children's lives would have little hope or significance. Personal achievement is shallow without eternal purpose. Pleasures found in this brief earthly existence can only whet the appetite for the perfection of heaven; the satisfaction and enjoyment they provide is so brief, so fleeting.
Although there are times when my words, my actions, and my fickle emotions betray me, the deepest and truest passion of my heart is experiencing the living presence of Jesus Christ with me, in me, and through me.
Nothing else really matters. Nothing else is worth living for. I have nothing to offer anyone apart from Christ living through me. I have no hope or value, apart from the hope I have in Jesus Christ and the value He placed on me when he died for me.
With Him, I have everything. I have purpose. Protection. Blessing. Significance. Favored position. Inheritance. Unconditional love. Freedom from condemnation and judgment. Power to live in freedom, light, and truth.
I am more than I could ever be on my own. On my best day. Or my worst. No, with Christ, my life is no longer characterized by the best I have to offer or by my most miserable failures: my life is hid with Christ in God. It is His best that I have now and forevermore.
And that beats any other passion, any day of the week, any place on the earth, any lifetime of experiences, accomplishments, and thrills.
****
What are you passionate about? I really would like to know!
Monday, July 31, 2006
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Free Fall
They called it the "Pamper Pole." And I was secretly afraid that this high element ropes course challenge would truly be so terrifying that we would all uncontrollably wet our pants. I even thought that wearing a Depends would be part of the required gear.
The point of the challenge is to expose your fears and give you a safe, risk-reduced environment to confront those fears. If you are willing, it usually works. You leave the experience with a confidence that can only come from exposing, confronting, and overcoming those fears.
You wear a cabled harness (no Depends) and climb unassisted 30 feet up a telephone pole. The climbing part was relatively easy--I loved climbing trees in my tomboy years. However, positioning yourself to stand on the top of the pole with nothing to hang on to was not. I began to fear that I would fall--that I would fail before even reaching the top!
Your goal is to stand on top of the pole, proclaim your fear or your deepest desire to the rest of the group, and then leap toward a trapeze-type bar suspended in front of you from which you would let go and be lowered to the ground.
Technically, you cannot fall because you are attached by harness to a steel cable more than adequate to support your weight. But try telling your heart! The cable is attached to the back of your harness--you cannot see it. And you know that it is the thread of life...or death.
The top of the pole is incredibly small in diameter. Just enough room for feet. When I finally was able to stand up straight on top of it, I felt exhileration and relief!
Until I saw how far away the trapeze bar was.
My goal was unachievable. That is a devastating thought for me! Work this hard and overcome significant challenge only to learn that my goal is beyond my reach, beyond my capability.
Yes, the instructor confirmed, most women do not actually reach the bar when they jump.
I did not like that answer very much.
Some men don't either, he adds.
Okay, as long as the task isn't sexist.
I do not consider myself a huge risk-taker; however, I am not one to just sit on the sidelines and watch the rest of the world go by. I would jump even if I did not reach the bar.
I proclaimed my fears and desires (which shall remain in that moment) and...finally...leaped off the pole. It was like jumping off a short cliff or out of a low flying airplane. For a brief moment I was free-falling. Then boink! My feet caught the pole as the cable slowed my descent into an arc. My emphathetic comrades cried, cheered, and applauded. My husband, who had climbed the pole just before me, embraced me.
I will never forget that experience of almost seven years ago. And I was reminded of it this week as I confronted my fear of possibly never realizing my dreams or my potential. I was drawn by the Spirit of God to free fall into the love of God and into the unknown void of my future.
And today, as I journeyed spiritually with Brennan Manning's Ragamuffin Gospel, I was led to this verse in Psalm 139: "You (God) chart the path ahead of me and tell me where to stop and rest. Every moment you know where I am" (vs. 3, NLV).
It is the start of studying 19 of the mercies of God--part of a 2005 postscript addition to Brennan's original 1990 text. And it was just what I needed to hear today.
The point of the challenge is to expose your fears and give you a safe, risk-reduced environment to confront those fears. If you are willing, it usually works. You leave the experience with a confidence that can only come from exposing, confronting, and overcoming those fears.
You wear a cabled harness (no Depends) and climb unassisted 30 feet up a telephone pole. The climbing part was relatively easy--I loved climbing trees in my tomboy years. However, positioning yourself to stand on the top of the pole with nothing to hang on to was not. I began to fear that I would fall--that I would fail before even reaching the top!
Your goal is to stand on top of the pole, proclaim your fear or your deepest desire to the rest of the group, and then leap toward a trapeze-type bar suspended in front of you from which you would let go and be lowered to the ground.
Technically, you cannot fall because you are attached by harness to a steel cable more than adequate to support your weight. But try telling your heart! The cable is attached to the back of your harness--you cannot see it. And you know that it is the thread of life...or death.
The top of the pole is incredibly small in diameter. Just enough room for feet. When I finally was able to stand up straight on top of it, I felt exhileration and relief!
Until I saw how far away the trapeze bar was.
My goal was unachievable. That is a devastating thought for me! Work this hard and overcome significant challenge only to learn that my goal is beyond my reach, beyond my capability.
Yes, the instructor confirmed, most women do not actually reach the bar when they jump.
I did not like that answer very much.
Some men don't either, he adds.
Okay, as long as the task isn't sexist.
I do not consider myself a huge risk-taker; however, I am not one to just sit on the sidelines and watch the rest of the world go by. I would jump even if I did not reach the bar.
I proclaimed my fears and desires (which shall remain in that moment) and...finally...leaped off the pole. It was like jumping off a short cliff or out of a low flying airplane. For a brief moment I was free-falling. Then boink! My feet caught the pole as the cable slowed my descent into an arc. My emphathetic comrades cried, cheered, and applauded. My husband, who had climbed the pole just before me, embraced me.
I will never forget that experience of almost seven years ago. And I was reminded of it this week as I confronted my fear of possibly never realizing my dreams or my potential. I was drawn by the Spirit of God to free fall into the love of God and into the unknown void of my future.
And today, as I journeyed spiritually with Brennan Manning's Ragamuffin Gospel, I was led to this verse in Psalm 139: "You (God) chart the path ahead of me and tell me where to stop and rest. Every moment you know where I am" (vs. 3, NLV).
It is the start of studying 19 of the mercies of God--part of a 2005 postscript addition to Brennan's original 1990 text. And it was just what I needed to hear today.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Summer Reading
I have been spending the summer with Henri Nouwen. With his writings that is. One of the great spiritual writers of modern times, he was a dearly loved and respected priest who touched many lives with his devotion to God and others.
Over and over, his words bring me back to the core of my spirituality: intimacy with Christ and the generous giving of my self to others.
In spite of so many apparent differences (age, denomination, gender, nationality, calling), I have discovered several places of spiritual connection. Like me, he would rather be busy than to sit quietly and meditate. But he also feared wasting his life on what may be eternally insignificant. He knew the prestige of a professorship at Harvard and Yale, but chose to minister among the mentally disabled in Toronto. Described by a friend as a "restless man of great depth and vulnerability", Henri was never content with a static relationship with His God.
I have benefited greatly from his recorded spiritual journey. Here are a few selections from the book The Heart of Henri Nouwen: His Words of Blessing, edited by Rebecca Laird and Michael J. Christensen.
"Prayer is the discipline of the moment. When we pray, we enter into the presence of God whose name is God-with-us."
"To give someone a blessing is the most significant affirmation we can offer. It is more than a word of praise or appreciation; it is more than pointing out someone's talents or good deeds...To give a blessing is to affirm, to say 'yes' to a person's Belovedness."
"First of all, our life itself is the greatest gift to give--something we constantly forget... The real question is not 'What can we offer each other?' but 'Who can we be for each other?...When I ask myself, 'Who helps me the most?' I must answer, 'The one who is willing to share his or her life with me.'"
"God and only God knows us in our essence, loves us well, forgives us fully, and remembers us for who we truly are."
If you would like some encouragement and guidance on your spiritual journey, visit the web site of my friend Deborah Brunt (www.keytruths.com) and sign up for her newsletter Perspectives.
Over and over, his words bring me back to the core of my spirituality: intimacy with Christ and the generous giving of my self to others.
In spite of so many apparent differences (age, denomination, gender, nationality, calling), I have discovered several places of spiritual connection. Like me, he would rather be busy than to sit quietly and meditate. But he also feared wasting his life on what may be eternally insignificant. He knew the prestige of a professorship at Harvard and Yale, but chose to minister among the mentally disabled in Toronto. Described by a friend as a "restless man of great depth and vulnerability", Henri was never content with a static relationship with His God.
I have benefited greatly from his recorded spiritual journey. Here are a few selections from the book The Heart of Henri Nouwen: His Words of Blessing, edited by Rebecca Laird and Michael J. Christensen.
"Prayer is the discipline of the moment. When we pray, we enter into the presence of God whose name is God-with-us."
"To give someone a blessing is the most significant affirmation we can offer. It is more than a word of praise or appreciation; it is more than pointing out someone's talents or good deeds...To give a blessing is to affirm, to say 'yes' to a person's Belovedness."
"First of all, our life itself is the greatest gift to give--something we constantly forget... The real question is not 'What can we offer each other?' but 'Who can we be for each other?...When I ask myself, 'Who helps me the most?' I must answer, 'The one who is willing to share his or her life with me.'"
"God and only God knows us in our essence, loves us well, forgives us fully, and remembers us for who we truly are."
If you would like some encouragement and guidance on your spiritual journey, visit the web site of my friend Deborah Brunt (www.keytruths.com) and sign up for her newsletter Perspectives.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Live it Up! Learning to laugh.
...or to chill (translation: "not be so stressed out about everything"), as my teen daughter advised me at the beginning of our family vacation to North Carolina the week of July 4th. I have family there near the coast, and many of my mother's siblings and children travelled in from the midwest for a mini-family reunion.
It didn't take long for our fun to be both tested and stimulated.
My aunt lives by a small lake, known as White Lake for its white sandy bottom and shallow depths. The lake is usually pristine, and our last reunion there five years ago was mostly spent basking for hours in its cool and gentle waters.
When we arrived there Monday, the air was hot and humid--typical July weather for southeastern North Carolina. Our cousins were already in the water, so we eagerly walked down to check things out. And yes, there they were. My cousin from Utah, Little Joe, with his two young children bobbing in their floats and enjoying the lake with my sister and her daughter--all toddlers, wet and smiling in the...wait, that's green water, not clear water.
Gross! What's happened to the water?
All the activity--jetskis, boats, crowded docks--of the holiday weekend had churned up large amounts of algae that had collected on the shallow bottom.
But the little ones already in the water beamed and gurgled affably, unaffected by the seaweedy substances that clung to their legs and swimsuits.
"Come on in--the water's fine!" encouraged Little Joe.
And with that, our fun-filled week began. Once we overcame the greenness of the water (not as bad in the slightly deeper parts as in the very shallow), cheery splashes and gleeful tosses of the water set off peals of laughter that carried over into ice cube chases in the house and water gun battles between cousins who were virtual strangers just hours earlier.
We lived. We loved. And we laughed.
It didn't take long for our fun to be both tested and stimulated.
My aunt lives by a small lake, known as White Lake for its white sandy bottom and shallow depths. The lake is usually pristine, and our last reunion there five years ago was mostly spent basking for hours in its cool and gentle waters.
When we arrived there Monday, the air was hot and humid--typical July weather for southeastern North Carolina. Our cousins were already in the water, so we eagerly walked down to check things out. And yes, there they were. My cousin from Utah, Little Joe, with his two young children bobbing in their floats and enjoying the lake with my sister and her daughter--all toddlers, wet and smiling in the...wait, that's green water, not clear water.
Gross! What's happened to the water?
All the activity--jetskis, boats, crowded docks--of the holiday weekend had churned up large amounts of algae that had collected on the shallow bottom.
But the little ones already in the water beamed and gurgled affably, unaffected by the seaweedy substances that clung to their legs and swimsuits.
"Come on in--the water's fine!" encouraged Little Joe.
And with that, our fun-filled week began. Once we overcame the greenness of the water (not as bad in the slightly deeper parts as in the very shallow), cheery splashes and gleeful tosses of the water set off peals of laughter that carried over into ice cube chases in the house and water gun battles between cousins who were virtual strangers just hours earlier.
We lived. We loved. And we laughed.
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