A Passionate Resolve

In spite of the bleak and often dismal backdrop of winter, the start of a new year always brings with it the promise and freshness of a new beginning-a hope for something better than what we have been or experienced before.

Resolutions are made. Or resisted. Sometimes making a resolution can doom an intention to failure, right from the start! How many have been made only to be broken before winter’s end?

A resolution can seem like self-imposed torture as a way of motivating myself to be what I ought to be, but have not been. The die- in diet. The ex- in exercise.

But there is something to be said for resolve. A choice of the will to make a change, for the better.

And to mean it.

Personally, I would love to be governed solely by purity of heart and mind: divinely focused passions that motivate richly intense and fulfilling experiences of love at every level of my relationships. A life overflowing with the goodness and grace of God, guided by wisdom and godly choices.

I fail so often at this, I wonder ever to strive at all for something so out of reach of my humanity. And yet…the hunger and longing for living spiritually in the everyday dramas continues. And tastes of such an indescribable life stir my appetite for more.

Oddly, the bleakness of winter is the best time of all for change. Leaves and foliage all stripped away, my naked backyard is exposed for critical scrutiny. With the removal of Christmas décor, the interior of my house seems stark and bare. Similarly, after all the frenzy of the holidays, my quieted life (however briefly this lasts) lays open and undressed awaiting the garment of a new life, new pursuits. Or resuming the old ones.

And so, I resolve to put on a new garment:

I resolve… to feed the hunger and fuel the passion that moves me in this spiritual pursuit.
I resolve… to nurture my spirit, as I have my mind.
…To tend the garden of my heart with great care and intention.
…To be open to more possibilities.
…To not miss the moment in today while I plan for tomorrow.
…To look in the eyes of another and see the uniqueness of that one immortal soul.

Happy Holy-days from my family to yours!

This Christmas season, I will be spending time with my family celebrating our love for each other through the exchange of gifts and the sharing of favorite holiday foods, memories, and traditions, like decorating the tree.

Most of all, however, we celebrate because of God's love for us, expressed in the gift of His Son Jesus to be our Saviour. Without Him, we could not know God personally, know of His love for us, and we could not be redeemed from our flawed human nature to be made part of His holy family.

During these holy days we call "holidays," I hope you will take time to consider His great gift to you: the free gift of unconditional love and acceptance, a place in the family of God, and an eternal home in heaven. It's so incredibly good-it's worth celebrating all year long!

Merry Christmas! Happy Holy-Days!
the Duncans

My blog will resume in January 2007.

Women of Influence: Pt. 3 Our Sphere of Influence

So far, we have looked at how a woman's spirit has an influence on everyone she comes in contact with, whether she realizes it or not. God also has a divine sphere of influence for each and every woman, that may change over time.

Your sphere of influence is wherever God places you, for as long as He places you there.

Sometimes our spheres are expanded; sometimes they are focused and individual.
The apostle Paul is a great example. Shortly after his conversion on the Damascus road, he went to Jerusalem where his influence for the Gospel was met with skepticism. He had, after all, gone to Damascus to persecute the Christians, not join them!

The truth of his transformation was verified by others, particularly Ananias and Barnabas; but Paul’s influence was a threat to the Jewish leaders, so he was sent to Caesarea and his hometown of Tarsus (Acts 9).

Over and over throughout Paul’s life, his sphere of influence changed. For one, he traveled as a missionary throughout Asia Minor sharing the gospel everywhere he went. Then he was imprisoned.

You might be tempted to think that his influence was effectively neutralized by imprisonment. But no, God had actually expanded Paul’s influence. By limiting the face-to-face contact Paul had with others, the ministry of his letters lingers on as God-breathed Scripture today.

Along the way and often in prison, Paul wrote Romans, I and II Corinthians, Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, I and II Timothy, Titus, and Philemon. Perhaps even Hebrews, we don’t know for sure.

Everywhere Paul went, he was an influence for Christ: when he sang in the Philippian jail with Silas, when he appeared to Governor Felix and then Festus, when he was shipwrecked near Malta, and when he was placed under Roman guard.

Paul claimed no position except bondservant of Jesus Christ. All of his former titles and positions of influence, he discarded as worthless (Philippians 3:4-9).

Think of Daniel and of Joseph. The high positions of influence came after an evident God-filled spirit. Daniel’s sphere of influence changed from that of a young captive from a conquered land to a high-ranking official in a world empire. Even with that “promotion,” his influence was most profound when he spoke from inside a lion’s den. (Daniel ch. 1-6)

Joseph went from favored son to bartered slave. From administrator for Potiphar to falsely accused prisoner. And as we fondly recall, he was finally given charge over all of Egypt, answerable only to Pharaoh himself. (Genesis ch. 37-41)

Need some female examples? Then think of Rahab the harlot who hid Israeli spies inside of Jericho, married an Israelite, and became the mother of Boaz, thus entering the lineage of Christ (that’s right! Read it in Matt. 1:5). What about Mary, the mother of Jesus. Or the woman at the well who told her whole village about Christ. Then there are the three women who came to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body—they were told by the angels to bear the news of His resurrection to the rest of His followers.

God made you as a woman to have a spirit of influence, and He has given you a sphere of influence.

Be encouraged today to manifest His Spirit through you wherever you go, to whomever you meet.

Women of Influence: Pt. 2 What Influence?

Two entries in one week!?! Well, I am catching up after a weekend women’s retreat. I hope you don’t mind.

The last entry introduced my belief that every woman has a God-given spirit of influence and a sphere of influence. That influence is not limited to possessing a title, a position, or a place in the history books.

Some women fear that they have no influence at all. Perhaps that influence has been diminished from what God had intended. Perhaps the women have believed a lie that they have no influence.

Others fear that they cannot have a positive influence because they are not perfect (who is?) or because of something bad they have done in the past, even though they have repented and have been forgiven.

II Timothy 1:7 tells us that “God has not given us a spirit of fear…but of love, power, and a sound mind.” Some translations say “self-discipline.”

All the fruits of God’s Spirit flow out of this (Galatians 5:22): love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Every woman has a spirit of influence. That spirit will be a godly one if we are walking in God’s spirit and letting Him produce His life through ours.

Every woman has also been given a sphere of influence. It may be a workplace, a neighborhood, a Sunday School class, or a group of friends. If she is married, certainly it is her husband. And if she is a mom, it is her children and one day, her grandchildren.

Each moment of contact with other people is a sphere of influence, however brief.

To be continued...

Women of Influence: Pt. 1. A Spirit of Influence

My teenage daughter is currently working on an English paper with a focus on American women writers and their influence on 19th century society. Two of the top names that have come up are Harriet Beecher Stowe, author of Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and Louisa May Alcott, author of Little Women.

Stowe’s book notably stirred the debate over slavery and impassioned abolitionists, leading President Lincoln to remark that her book actually started the Civil War!

Little Women is beloved by its readers primarily for its heroine Jo who resists 19th century stereotypes for traditional female roles. Set as a novel, the book influenced its readers to broaden their view of a woman’s place in society beyond solely that of a wife and mother.

While it is easy to document the influence of these and other female writers simply because their beliefs were penned in ink, countless other women also wrote on the pages of that era in so many different ways. (Remember Clara Barton?)

Sometimes, women today believe that to have influence, one must write a book, hold a position, or lead a group.

I used to think that as well, and for a while, I sought position, status, and yes, even some power—thinking of that as “having influence.” Certainly, a position of responsibility has a measure of influence. The mistake is limiting influence to those roles.

Then there came a time when my roles outside of home were set aside. I remained a wife and a mother. I became a graduate student and then teacher to my three children when we began homeschooling.

What I learned was that my influence had not diminished; my sphere of influence had simply changed. Since my role was more personal than professional, I also came to realize that my spirit was more influential than my knowledge or ability.

My children responded to me as their teacher in direct correlation to my personal response to them. If I was too critical in my spirit or too harsh, they would wilt and be diminished. It did not matter if what I said to them was correct. What mattered to them was the spirit in which I spoke it.

A woman’s spirit is the most influential part of her being. It is what she brings into every room she walks into and to every person she encounters. It may be a harsh, unforgiving, arrogant, critical, or embittered spirit. Or it may be a gentle, loving spirit. A kind and tender spirit. A humble, patient, and gracious spirit. It may be a discerning spirit. Or even a joyful and energetic spirit.

Every woman has influence because every woman has a powerful spirit with which she engages humanity.

By the sea in Italy: the beauty of the journey

Monterossa - by the sea in Italy.

Monterossa, furthest north seaside village of the Cinque Terre, is a large resort town with a sprawling beach and a once legendary reputation for drawing movie stars.

For us, Monterossa was a beauty that was best enjoyed in the journey.

After visiting all four of the other seaside villages, what wonders would Monterossa reward us with that Sunday morning? From afar, it was idyllic. Glamorous. Beautiful and grand. Yet, uniquely Cinque Terre. And the two hour hike there was unforgettable!

Our hike wandered through sun-soaked vineyards, providing breath-taking vistas and treacherous climbs.

Along the pathway, we edged the Mediterranean from dangling precipices and plunged deep into the hillside olive groves.

The hike had everything you would want. Climbs, plunges, views, sun, shade, variety, challenges, rewards. It was a journey that delighted one minute and threatened in the next.

At times, the pathway narrowed to a mere 10 inches. Dangerous enough when all the hikers were going in one direction. Fairly impossible when hikers approached from the other direction. Maneuvering some of those crevices became a focal point. A matter of safely surviving the trail.

One high point was crossing paths with two college-age girls, walking arm-in-arm and singing joyfully (in English!)with their praise music: "Your love, O Lord, reaches to the mountains. Your faithfulness stretches to the sky."

Finally, we arrived in Monterossa. We searched for our expected reward, an Italian gelato! But none were to be found.

We settled for a refreshing lemon granita and wandered Monterossa in hopes of discovering its special charm.

Unfortunately, the beaches, though beautiful, were over-crowded and uninviting. The layout of the city was more modern and less charming than the other villages. It felt less friendly, too.

After a very brief visit, we took the train back to Vernazza and reflected on the best part of our day--the hike to Monterossa.

In reflection, it was a good reminder that beauty perceived only from afar can be deceptive. True beauty is found when one gets past the distant image and examines the heart or essence of the person or place.

And sometimes, the journey can be more beautiful than the destination.

Family: the ones that take you in

"Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in."

This line from Robert Frost's poem "Death of a Hired Hand" has lingered in the back of my mind like a distant, but constant, shadow of the meaning of home.

Reading it as a young person, I resisted its tone of despair, its sparse, cold realism. Home was so much more than that, I objected. It was love, acceptance, security, comfort, peace of mind.

As I grew older and moved from place to place, I found that home was really a state of mind and being. Often, however, there was a place that felt like home more than some of the others.

For me, it was our home in Graham, North Carolina. My parents never actually ever owned this quaint two story built in th 1940's, but that made no difference to us kids. The house was situated on three acres adjoining another ten, complete with a run-down horse shed, dilapidated garage, neglected pastures, gorgeous flowering cherry trees, camellia bushes, gnarly apple tree, scuppernong grape vines, and several towering pecan trees. The grassy backyard stretched out before us like a long invitation to the blissful outdoors.

Two hemlocks stood like ghostly giants in the front, shielding our sanctuary from the busy street below. Kmart and the interstate were less than a mile away, but when we pulled up into our driveaway, the rest of the world disappeared.

It was the perfect grandmother's house to go and visit, but we got to live there for three years. We plucked blackberries, battled foxes, coons, and wild-eyed barn cats. Our family planted a large vegetable garden in one of the small tree-lined pastures and enjoyed a marvelous harvest.

Inside, the plaster walls and hardwood floors took us back in time. A clawfoot iron bathtub in my upstairs alcove bathroom became a private retreat. My brothers set up a train table in the loft. My little sister had a walk-in closet that became the shelter for nesting birds. In my brothers' room, we peeled back layers of old wallpaper that dated back to the house's World War II era origins.

We loved that house. It was a place where we built so many special memories. For a time, we kids enjoyed a respite from the rest of the world. And we knew, that when we left to go to school or work or church, when we "had" to return, they "had" to take us in. Not because duty obligated them. No, love obliged them to. And the result was all that home really means: peace, security, comfort, acceptance, and unconditional love.

Taking the Lead- part II: "Jazzy's story"

This is Jazzy--the "baby"of the family, even though she is three years old and has mothered a litter of puppies.

By AKC standards, she is a long-haired, red brindle miniature dachshund named "Duncan's All That Jazz." The daughter of Baron and Brandy (and my personal shadow), she completes our doggy family.

We really did not intend to have a third dog-child. But she was the last of Brandy's first litter, one of only two long-haired surprises among the original six. Compared to the others, she was adorable to look at, but rather aloof. The last to come to me for affection. Always a bit stubborn and independent.

Until the night she was left to spend the night all alone in the basement. When she cried, I caved, rescuing her by bringing her into our bed. She curled up into Geoff's neck and that was it--she was ours.

However, she was no overnight sensation. It took a while before she would come to me when I called her. Or for her to lie on her back and let me check her belly for rashes, fleas, abrasions, or even give her a belly rub.

I continued to work with her, rewarding her for good behavior and earning her trust. Baron helped as well, for she was as jealous of him as she was fond of him. When I sat on the floor or even looked Baron's way, his tail would begin to wag as he jogged over to me expecting to be scratched under the neck, petted and praised.

At first, jealousy prevailed. She would ignore me and try to "bite" at Baron's leg. Later though, Jazzy followed his lead, and she began to welcome attention and affection. Now, every morning, she welcomes me by voluntarily rolling onto her back and wagging her tail!

By nature, Jazzy does not follow well. She prefers to take the lead, stay in control, deal with life on her own terms. It's a lonely life, though. And dachshunds are very social/relational dogs.

So, she is our conflicted dog. She enjoys "baby" status--milking attention and yearning (whining) for more. Yet, she has an Alpha dog instinct-- often vieing for lead dog status.

In my relationship with God, I am most like Jazzy: independent and self-sufficient, wanting to take the lead rather than following it.

And, I can be a very conflicted Christ-follower. Sometimes, I just want to sit in the Father's lap and enjoy my privileged status as child. Other times, I want to grab the reins (or leash) and make things happen!

When all He really wants me to do is to follow His lead. Sit and rest when He stops. Charge ahead when He runs. Lead others by my example.

But, like Jazzy, I am learning. :)

Taking the Lead

Say hello to my three dog-children: Baron, Brandy, and Jazzy! They are AKC registered mini-dachshunds who are a part of our family.


I think they forget they are dogs, until it is time for a walk.


When the leashes come out, the chaos begins! Not only are they eager to run rapidly out the door, they each want to take the lead!

I have tried leashing all three together, driving them like chariot horses ahead of me. It works until an unexpected dog or person comes into view, and then they bark, scatter, and lunge in three different directions. Our vigorous pack dog run digresses into a mild panic.

As my husband and I have attempted to address this dilemma, we have viewed dog psychologist Cesar Milan's show "Dog Whisperer" for insights into our doggy children's behavior. I also decided to work with each dog, one at a time and try to correct the errant behavior.


First I started with Baron. He is the red male in our trio. Ten years old, he literally grew up with our youngest daughter and follows me around the house. Baron considers himself the household watch dog--barking ferociously at all strangers.

He has been snake-bit, scarred, and back-stressed, but he still considers himself the alpha/leader dog.

No matter how many times I tried to make him follow on the leash, he pulled just hard enough to walk a few steps ahead of me on the walk.



This is Baron's mate, Brandy. She is a four year
old red/black brindle who sleeps in the bed with my youngest daughter, climbs in my husband's lap whenever it's available, and wants me to pick her up and hold her every time she hears thunder.

She is a cat in a dog's body! A skittish scaredy-cat and prowling hunter, all wrapped up in one little package.

On her walk, she doesn't want to lead as she does not really follow. She yaps at nothing and darts about, tangling the leash around my legs.


What I see so far is that not following or trusting the lead (her master) takes away from enjoyment of the walk as much as when Baron tries to take charge of the lead, when I am the one who cares for them and protects them from harm.

How similar to my walk with God at times. There are times when God is not working fast enough for me, and I surge ahead--taking the lead. Other times I act as if God is not leading at all, and I dart about in worry and uncertainty.

Ironic isn't it, when God is the one who takes care of me and protects me. I am His special treasure. He wants to walk with me, following and trusting His lead, submitting to His leadership and enjoying the time together.

I am so like my sweet dachshunds sometimes. I know they adore me. They follow me around the house. Sleep on the floor by my bed. Depend on me to care for them. They trust me, and for the most part, they obey me.

But when it comes to the walk--they struggle with following the lead.

I am still learning to walk with my God. He is the Creator of the universe. My loving Father. King of Kings and Friend of my Heart. I love Him. Adore Him. And depend on Him for everything.

And still, I struggle with following His lead.
Lord, teach me to be a follower, so I can truly walk with you.

Fall Frenzy

September drops gently on Alabama when it comes to weather. The heat of summer fades to a sun-filled embrace that softens at night to light cool caress.

But not on Friday night football games or Saturday morning track meets!

Friday nights heat up as the sun falls beneath the horizon. Youthful bodies don their battle gear and burst onto the field, intent upon the conflict. Here in Alabama, football is king. The game forges champions, or sidelines them with injuries.

This is our family's first full varsity football experience. Our oldest daughter is a first time Varsity cheerleader for a brand-new 2A team competing at the varsity level for the very first time.

The games have been exciting and anything but boring! The concrete stands we sit on act as solar radiators -- a fact that we are not yet grateful for as we lean in to catch what little breeze sweeps through the bleachers.

Early the next morning, my husband and I chase a few quiet moments between our son's cross country Saturday morning meet schedule. Before we know it, the crisp clear coolness we woke up to has been replaced by a stubborn summer sun who insists on baking our son, his teammates, and all the competitors until they sweat and wilt beneath its blaze.

October will be so different. We will probably freeze on Friday nights and wish for our perfect September nights. The cross country team will wear their warm-ups and watch their breath pant in icy blasts.

Every time has its season. Everything its purpose. For us, there will be quiet September mornings...some day in the not so distant future when our nest empties and our hectic lives decrescendo.

But for now, I do not want to miss a beat or skip a moment of the fast, furious, fun, and frenzied lives of two active teenagers (not to mention a tween, as well) all these Friday nights and Sat. mornings in the fall of 2006.

Remember Who You Are

"Remember who you are..." The strong booming voice of Mufasa, once the lion king, spoke truth into the darkened confusion of his son Simba's world. Simba was living without any worries with a warthog and a meerkat, not as a lion. He could forget, even ignore, who he was, but he could never change who he really was.

Do you know who you are? Do you remember whose you are?

Sept. 11, 2001. Our entire nation watched with horror as the Twin Towers burned and collapsed to the ground after terrorist-controlled planes slammed into the upper floors.

In a moment, so many everyday heroes remembered who they were...fellow Americans. Some lives were saved. Some heroes died helping others. Many suffered loss. And as we watched, sharing their shock and their grief, we were reminded that we were all Americans that day.
***
In 1964, I was born into a the home of a young minister and his young wife, both fresh out of Bible college. My daddy still says that I looked so much like my mother the day I was born, he could not name me anything else but Becky, my mother's name.

Even today, the resemblance endures. Every time I visit and especially when I meet their friends and acquaintances, I am recognizably their daughter before introductions are made. I need only to look as far as a mirror to remember who I am and whose I am in my family.

It is not quite so easy to remember who I am spiritually. The Bible tells me that by faith in Jesus Christ, I am no longer a slave to sin, addicted to my self and my appetites. Instead, I have been transformed into a child of God, the Bride of Christ, beloved of the Father. I am free to walk in newness of life, led by God's Spirit.

But like Simba, in the confusion and darkness of my enemy's lies and deceptions, I can forget who I am. I need more than a reminder. I need penetrating truth. Like Simba, I can be paralyzed by the past, with its failures and shame. Or I can be deluded by my accomplishments into thinking I am more than I am

The past is only about what I did. But it is not who I am.

Who are you? The truest answer is found in the question: whose are you?

Vernazza - A special place of rest

Window view from Vernazza, Cinque Terre, Italy. A secluded cove where the Mediterranean roared a fitful lullaby or lapped a peaceful slumber against the rocks below.

Vernazza is one of five towns nestled among the rocky coastline of northern Italy, known as the Cinque Terre. Connected by hiking trails that meander through hillside vineyards and lemon groves, the towns seem to grow out of the mountain and descend into the water below.

Life in Vernazza is out of time. But full of place.

Geoff and I spent our last weekend in Italy here, renting an apartment with a balcony that overlooked this tiny cove. It was at once relaxing and invigorating.

We could sit for hours at the water's edge, watching the foam surge and crash on the breakers that protect the ancient harbor where small colorful fishing boats still bring in the day's catch: shrimp, octopus, squid, sea bass, anchovies. Il Frito misto is how we encountered it on the local menu.

Lively, quaint. Modern, but ageless. Vernazza was a place to rest from climbing towers, touring art museums, and exploring the wonders of Rome, Florence, and Tuscany. And it was so much more.

The air was pristine. The scenery along the trails was stunning at every turn. An icy lemon granita (a partially frozen, slushy-like drink) made from fresh, local lemons rewarded our hike between towns where cars were forbidden access except on market day.

Staying in Cinque Terre was a rest that rejuvenated and enlivened. How unlike the kind of rest that ruins and decays, as we observed among the ancient Roman ruins or in crumbling medieval chapels.

Today (Labor Day) I read in Hebrews 4 of the place of rest that awaits believers: “So there is a special rest still waiting for the people of God. For all who enter into God’s rest will find rest from their labors, just as God rested after creating the world” (Heb. 4:9,10 NLV).

It occurred to me as I read, that when God rested on the seventh day, His work with mankind was not finished. It had only just begun. Conflict was just about to ensue as Adam and Eve fell to sin’s temptation, and evil began its vicious assault on the earth and all its occupants.

But God’s promise is for a future place of rest when the conflict will be ended. Truth will prevail. Justice will be exacted. Evil’s vicious rule will be terminated. Love and eternal bliss will be the reward of those who have chosen to follow “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6).

God’s place of rest. If Vernazza is any indication of what is ahead, then we have a lot to look forward to.

IL Pozzo - At Rest by the Well

The Tuscan hillside of Villa il Pozzo: a luscious grove of silver olive trees and red Chianti grapes.

Il Pozzo - "the well" in Italian. A place to be refreshed and renewed: daily, weekly, ...anywhere along the journey when one stops for rest.




The Villa il Pozzo in Tuscany was a place of refreshment, renewal, and rest for me and Geoff this past May.

During one of our evening walks together this week, Geoff wistfully recalled this once-in-a-lifetime vacation experience. As we walked, we savored the memories: the cuisine, the scenery, the art, the culture, the beauty. All the wonder and delight that had filled our inward cup to overflowing.

Tucked behind the villa between the two watchtowers, our cozy apartment provided a welcome retreat after each amazing excursion into medieval hilltowns.

Quaint, charming, and amply supplied with gracious character, Villa il Pozzo was a well from which we drew all week long.





Now that school and work are back in full swing, Italy truly seems a continent away. But my heart was there long enough to learn that it needs a "well" experience more often. My marriage needs it. My kids need it. My life needs it.

Today is Sunday. The Sabbath for Christians. Sabbath means "rest." Since my husband and I serve in Worship Ministries at our church, Sunday is rarely a day of rest for us. I am often more exhausted physically after Sunday morning than I am much of the work-week.

But I also am aware of how my soul is refreshed and renewed as I fellowship with believers and participate in corporate worship. And as I listen to the Word through the mouthpiece of my spiritual leaders. My perspective is placed back on the eternal. My focus adjusted to a more other-centered vision than the one I naturally wake up to.

My daily challenge is to find moments to rest by The Well throughout the week. To rise early and drink deeply every day before the curtain of the everyday dramas rises to its opening act.

My ambition is to seek out moments to rest long enough by the well that I am renewed and restored, not just briefly satiated. That is my goal for the coming months.

"Come unto me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

Read the Directions!

My teenage daughter bought a new phone this week. She got a great deal on a high-tech phone with features none of our phones have ever had. Within minutes of her purchase and without reading any directions, she began taking pictures with her phone, sending text messages, and customizing her ringtones. If it had been me, I would still have been trying to figure out how to make a call or answer one.

But she is not yet afraid of learning by trial and error. (We've had to cancel one phone number because she accidentally activated features we did not enjoy paying extra for!) But aren't we all a bit like that? Give us the "need to know" info.--right now. Don't bore us with the details or ask us to read the directions.

That is, until something goes wrong. Or it doesn't work right.

I've searched my entire house for the directions to the vacuum cleaner--after it wasn't working properly. That neat little package of instructions usually gets thrown into a drawer (if kept at all) in all the excitement of a new tool, toy, or appliance.

At the start of a new school and work year, I have decided to read the directions. Before something goes wrong. I am carefully reading (err...at least skimming) student/parent handbooks, course syllabi, teacher hand-outs, and endless school forms.

I have been searching for spiritual direction as well. Something to start the year with. God has been gracious to provide two tangible sets of instructions for me this week. One in Paul's final instructions to Timothy and one in Proverbs.

2 Timothy 2:22 (NLV)
"Run from anything that stimulates youthful lust. Follow anything that makes you want to do right. Pursue faith, love, and peace, and enjoy the companionship of those who call on the Lord with pure hearts."

Proverbs 21:21 (NLV)
"Whoever pursues godliness and unfailing love will find life, godliness, and honor."

These words spoke to me in a few specific ways. I have been desiring a specific blueprint for my life, I guess. Something concrete to focus on, the way I focused in on my graduate work. Paul told Timothy to "follow anything" that made him want to do right.

It was a good reminder to me that God is concerned about who I am while I tend to be more concerned about what I do. Performance is a strong driver for me. And it can be a chain.

I have been pursuing godliness and hoping that unfailing love would be an outcome. I have been rather disappointed that my love sometimes fails over the most trivial of circumstances. The proverb above states that I must pursue both.

It is a great encouragement that the verse also says that the pursuer of godliness will find godliness. It is not a hopeless pursuit!

As I continue my journey to live spiritually in the everyday dramas of my life, I have some directions:

"Follow anything that makes you want to do right." (run from the rest)

"Pursue godliness AND unfailing love."

"Pursue faith and love and peace."

"Enjoy the companionship of those...with pure hearts."

If you are tired of learning by trial and error. Of finding out your mistake the hard way. And you have been humbled and broken enough to admit it...then join another humbled hard-head and read the directions!

With love--Becky

End of the summer reflection: the challenge of the everyday

My summer reading (Nouwen) has been quite reassuring. And perplexing at the same time. It seems that living spiritually in the everyday is much more difficult than in the set-aside sacred.

For example, when do you feel more holy, more devout? When you are having your devotions, praying fervently, and/or participating in the church service or a ministry to others. Right?

But what about when you are washing dishes, mowing the lawn, running errands, paying bills, changing dirty diapers or the oil in your car?

How about when someone pulls out in front of you? Takes your parking place? What about when your check book accidentally bounces? Or your children forget, it seems, everything you tell them, almost every day?

Oh, I really feel spiritual then! (I try to claim "righteous indignation," but it really isn't righteous at all.)

If any of this is remotely familiar, then you understand that living spiritually in the everyday can be very difficult.

This summer, I have set aside extra time for prayer, meditation, Bible reading, Bible study, contemplative readings. I have become a student of Bible teacher Priscilla Shirer, of Mother Teresa, Brennan Manning, and Henri Nouwen. All respected, some revered, for their spiritual wisdom and godly living.

But I still find myself just as easily peeved at annoying drivers, just as impatient with loved ones, and just as frustrated with God's timing as when the summer started.

I want so much to live spiritually. Without having to check myself into a monastery. Or, um, a nunnery. And that brings to me Henri Nouwen's revelation during a seven month sabbatical at a Trappist monastery in Genesee, New York in the mid 1970's.

In a lesser known work, Genesee Diary, Nouwen records his daily activities living temporarily as a Trappist monk. He did not intend to become a monk, but he wanted to have spiritual direction from the abbot there; and he wanted to enrichen his spirituality without the demands and distractions of teaching, traveling, and ministering.

What he found to his dismay was that in spite of a spiritually healthy environment with assigned manual work (helping in the bakery or quarrying rocks from the creekbed), daily spiritual lessons, and helpful counsel from the abbot, Nouwen struggled to live spiritually in the simple everyday.

He attended all the scheduled religious, liturgical activities. He observed extended times of prayer and fasting. He faithfully and transparently explored all his words, attitudes, actions, and reactions. Practiced confession. Repentance. Still, he found himself restless at times. Sometimes agitated over little things. Basically, sinful. Not spiritual.

In short, the time away from his usual busy schedule only served to heighten his human condition. Or at least his awareness of it.

In a similar way, I guess I have been on a brief sabbatical of a sort this summer. No graduate school. Not working. Recovery from minor wrist surgery. Two kids busy with camp.

And I have been reminded of my sinful condition. How desperate I am for God, just to live spiritually, in the everyday. I am reminded of how many other passions compete for my one true love, Jesus Christ.

It is tempting to measure one's spirituality by the extent of one's devotional life, the level of service to one's church, or even the desire to walk faithfully with God. It is humbling to realize that the real measure is in the everyday: how I respond to others' sinfulness and how I respond to my own.

Comparison shopping

All the school moms know that it is that time again: time to do back-to-school shopping! Here in Alabama we will enjoy a holiday from state taxes on all school supplies this weekend. Friends of mine are planning to hit Walmart at 10:00 pm and head for the registers at midnight, just as the sale begins !

Wisely, we all do comparison shopping. It is, of course, the best way to stretch our dollars and get the best value for the money. And with gas prices soaring (ours jumped 10 cents yesterday), we are more motivated than ever.

I personally think it is much easier to comparison shop for school supplies than for school clothes. Comparison shopping between filler paper, glue, and #2 pencils is less complicated by personal style preferences; but still, choices remain: should we buy college-ruled or wide-ruled? Glue sticks or regular Elmer's? Colorfully painted pencils or standard issue #2 pencils? Hey, can we use mechanical pencils instead?

As wise as it is for us to comparison shop for school supplies and other material necessities, God has been showing me that it is NOT wise or godly to practice comparison shopping when it comes to valuing people and relationships. Or when I try to estimate my value to God.

Why? Because God is NOT a comparison shopper! He does not place value on us according to the quality or quantity of our achievements or whether we meet His high standards.

And it is a good thing, too. When He searches the earth for those who are righteous enough, he declares that there is no one righteous--no, not one. (Romans 3:10; Psalm 14:2,3).

My protest began then: why did God choose Noah then? Or David? Or any of us?

When God surveyed the earth during Noah's time, people had so corrupted themselves that God was sorry He had made them and decided to destroy them and start over. Only Noah "found grace in the eyes of the Lord"(Genesis 5:6-8). God chose Noah to build the ark.

When God rejected Saul as king of Israel and sent Samuel to the family of Jesse for a new king, it certainly looked like comparison shopping on the surface. Samuel thought so. Samuel confesses in his first book (I Samuel 16:1-7) that as he observed the sons of Jesse, he would have picked the oldest Eliab right away. God had to speak clearly and decisively to Samuel to lead him to His choice, David.

And what about us? The apostle Paul (whom we would never have considered a candidate for the Gospel when he was Saul, persecutor of Christians) sheds some light on this in I Corinthians 1:26-31.
"Remember, dear brothers and sisters that few of you were wise in the world's eyes, or powerful, or wealthy when God called you. Instead, God deliberately chose things the world considers foolish...despised by the world...things counted as nothing at all..."

Why? Verse 29 says, "so that no one can ever boast in the presence of God."

Hebrews 11 explains that Noah's faith made him right in God's sight, not his rightness. Noah was not free of the corruption of his world, even after the flood (Gen. 9:20-28). He became shamefully drunk after settling in to the new life God had given him and his family.

All too well we know the failure of King David: adultery with Bathsheba, the murder of her husband Uzziah (II Samuel 11). He also failed as a father by not dealing with Amnon's rape of Tamar which lead to Absalom's murderous revenge and rebellion.

These three individuals (Noah, David, and Paul) and their stories reveal that God does not comparison shop (as we do) looking for value or bargains or good investments. But He does make choices: he chose Noah to build the ark; he chose David to be king of Israel and produce the line of kings from which the Messiah would be born; and he chose Saul on the Damascus road to be Paul the Apostle.

Yes, Noah had faith. And faith pleases God. David had a heart for God that man could not see by looking only on the outward appearance.

But Saul only had misplaced zeal. Why him? Why us?

The answer comes to us from God by way of Paul's letter to the Ephesians. Chapter One verse 4 says that long before the world was made, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy. Chapter Two verses four and five say this only happened because of His great mercy and grace--nothing we did or accomplished. Verse eight: it was a gift.

Wow! God's love for me is not based on how I measure up against anyone else. How I measure up to the perfection of Jesus. How good or loving I am today or any day. God's love is constant, unchanging, unwavering, everlasting, boundless, abundant, and free.

He not only would pay ANY price for you--He already paid the ultimate price for you: on the cross.

His love for you is so great: He would line up and wait for hours or days, even a lifetime, to see you and have you near. He would give you the shirt off his back and the blood in his veins.

You are the object of His greatest affection. You are His bride, redeemed from the enemy, ransomed at great price, and He longs to make you pure and holy so you can enjoy perfect fellowship with Him, a spiritual intimacy that exceeds all earthly relationships.

As Paul writes in Ephesians 3:18,19, "may you understand just how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love (for you) really is...though it is so great you will never fully understand it.
Then you will be filled with the fullness of life and power that comes from God."

So when you comparison shop for school supplies this month, remember that God loves you so much, that you are always His first choice.

My passion

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!

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.

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.

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.