Lenten Journal: Yet I Hear a Voice

Starring down two roads
     both of which have been travelled before
A third appears
     starring down the path
I see nothing

     yet I hear a voice

The voice speaks though I cannot hear

     it clearly, I still hear

This new way is overgrown

     the trees and leaves cover my way

I stare intently

     attentively listening to the voice that softly speaks.

Of the roads I see

     there are two, crowded with travellers

Each searching in their own way

     each desiring to be loved

Of the third

     I hear the voice of the one

The one of compassion

     of love

Of hope

     of forgiveness

Of grace

     the voice of who calls to me

My knees tremble

     my heart aches

And my mind races

     the voice that calls to me says

Fear not.

     come to me

I stand frozen for a moment

     slowly…I move

One foot then another

     timidly I walk

With only the voice to guide me

     with only ears to hear

Lenten Journal: The Re-Re-Re-Return

"The dim-eyed old father holds his returned son close to his chest with an unconditional love...He seem to think only one thing: "He's back home, and I am so glad to have him with me again."" Henri Nouwen

Garth Brooks When You Come Back To Me Again. Watch more top selected videos about: Frequency (film)

I believe it's difficult for any of one to believe that we could re-re-re-return to you. You claim that you love us unconditionally. You claim, through your son, that you are love, grace, and mercy. You claim in your words that no matter what nothing separates us from you. You're actions in grace, mercy, and love show us that a re-return is not only possible it is inevitable.

We, who fall short, will always return to you. Whether our motives are pure or not, you take us in. You wrap your arms around us. You love us wherever we are in life. You do not require a pure heart to return to you. You take us in your arms and saying, "I am so glad to have you with me again."

But there is a voice that tells us not to believe it. A voice that says we are unable to return. A voice that says your love is conditional, small, selfish. Your mercy is for a few elected. Your grace is only for those who pray the abc's. The voice tells us that you will not keep your promise. A voice that says Christ is not strong enough to be faithful.

We listen to that voice over and over again. We convince ourselves that we are unlovable, unwanted. We believe our imperfections, imperfections we were born with, are imperfections that are too much for you. We seek reassurance that you are you say you are. We seek reassurance that you will keep your promise. We seek reassurance that you are strong enough to stay faithful when we stray. And each time we seek reassurance, we hear the voice that says, "There are no returns."

But you came and opened our ears to another voice that says:

"I am your God, I have molded you with my own hands, and I love what I have made. I love you with a love that has no limits. Do not run away from me. Come back to me--not once, not twice, but always again. You are my child. How can you ever doubt that I will embrace you again, hold you against my breast, kiss you and let my hands run through your hair? I am your God--the God of mercy and compassion, the God of pardon and love, the God of tenderness and care. Please do not say that I have given up on you, that I cannot stand you any more, that there is no way back. It is not true. I so much want you to be with me. I so much want you to be close to me. I know all your thoughts. I hear all your words. I see all of your actions. And I love you because you are beautiful, made in my image, an expression of my most intimate love. Do not judge yourself. Do not condemn yourself. Do not reject yourself. Let my love touch the deepest, most hidden corners of your heart and reveal to you your own beauty, a beauty that you have lost sight of, but that will become visible to you again in the light of my mercy. Come, come, let me wipe your tears, and let my mouth come close your ear and say to you, 'I love you, I love you'" Henri Nouwen, Show Me the Way, pg 76-77

The voice of Christ cries to those of us who feel lost in the wilderness. The voice of Christ cries out to us and says, "You are loved." It is a beautiful thing to be able to re-return. The re-return is a beautiful thing. As is the re-re-re-return.

I humbly thank you for the re-re-re-return.

Lenten Journal: The Dichotomy of Christ

"It is a remarkable dichotomy. In many ways, Clark is the most human of us all. Then...he shoots fire from the skies, and it is difficult not to think of him as a god. And how fortunate we all are that it does not occur to him." Batman (Superman/Batman #3)

The past few readings in my Lenten readings have focused on the servanthood of Christ as revealing God as God's true self. Henri Nouwen writes, "In his servanthood God does not disfigure himself, God does not take on something alien to self, God does not act or in spite of the divine self. On the contrary, it is in God's servanthood that God chooses to reveal himself as God to us." It is in the dichotomy of Jesus, who becomes like a slave, that we see the true nature of God. God is found in servanthood.

It's hard to wrap my mind around that. I've talked about it before. I've written papers over it before. I have preached on it before; yet it is still a struggle to completely understand this dichotomy. Jesus is both divine and human, yet his divineness is expressed through his humanness. It is as if saying Superman is expressed as Superman through his alter ego of Clark Kent. In the perceived weakling, Clark Kent, the divinely inspired Kryptonian is revealed. It is truly a strange dichotomy. The greatest of preists' is expressed as the greatest through being the least. Christ lifts himself up by lowering himself. Is it in his humility that others were able to understand who God is? Is that what it means to be the presence of Christ?

As a minister, it is hard to understand lowering one's self. Ministers are often lifted up either by themselves or by their congregation. Many fall prey to the seductive serpent who says "Money, power, love, praise...these are of the Father." Christians lift themselves up in their piety. They tout their lifestyles and glorify poverty or glorify lavishness. We are not the most humble of people. It feels against our nature. Yet, we are told to humble ourselves like a child, like a slave, like the least, so that the kingdom of God may be fulfilled.

Is it possible for us to truly humble ourselves in a church system that flourishes on bigger and better?

Is it possible for me to truly minister and be the presence of Christ without emptying myself? Without lowering myself in a radical way? Is it possible for me to move beyond my ego, my worry, my fear of what others will say or think? Is it possible?

Perhaps it is in knowing, learning to be content with whatever I have. For I know what it is like to have little and I know what it is like to have plenty. In any circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me. (Philippians 4:11b-13). Perhaps it is in the prayer, "Lord, I abandon myself to you." "Lord, I shall gratefully accept everything that pleases you. Let your will be done."

In the end, it is the dichotomy of Christ that humbles me.

Lenten Journal: Ears That Are Not My Own

"And at the end of my heart's testing, with your likeness let me wake" Kristyn Getty

I am not really enjoying this Lenten journal exercise. I begin one and what I wanted to write about gets distracted or the words cannot take form; however, when I just write, without reason or without purpose, just write, the words come. The words find their way to the paper and the page begins to fill.

This process makes me wonder if that is what true listening is about.

Simply to begin listening without reason, without purpose, without expectations, without anything to gain.

Is that what this is truly about?

Is this what you mean by emptying myself?

Is this what it means to pray, "Lord, unbind me and let me go"?

Perhaps.

Perhaps I am beginning to see with eyes that are not my own; and listen with ears that are not my own.

Lenten Journal: 33 Days Whispering

"Whatever you do with your life, go on listening to the voice of Jesus in your heart. This listening must be an active and very attentive listening, for our restless and noisy world God's so loving voice is easily drowned out." Henri Nouwen

My mind is racing. It's difficult to focus. There's too much available to do at the same time as I attempt to listen to you. This world is full of distractions. My phone rings as I begin to write. My email alert goes off when I begin to read. My mind wanders in the silence. My thoughts move in and out of being present. I get lost in thought.

You whisper when you speak. Sometimes you mumble. Your voice is sometimes silent. Sometimes you say nothing at all and in that nothing say everything.

These next 33 days are going to be tough. 33 days of devoting time to listen to your voice in the midst of teenagers screaming in pain. 33 days of trying to be attentive to your voice in the midst of anxious adults. 33 days admist overfunctioners. 33 days admist a self driven society. 33 days of trying to remove myself in order to discover myself. 33 days asking, "My mind is filled with ideas of God but is my heart with God?"

33 days asking, "Am I talking to God or am I listening to myself speak?"

33 days praying, "Speak Lord, your servant is listening."

33 days hoping that is true.

33 days of emptying myself into you. May your whispering voice become the voice I hear in the sounds of your creation. Amen

Lenten Journal: I May Be

"Your way and my way seem to be one and the same" James Taylor

This is will not be the post that I intended it to be by the time I am finished. I have written three different versions of this post; each one incomplete and each one leading me in one direction. I try to control what I write. It is the writer inside me. When you write you present a clear thesis in the opening paragraph, then you expound on the thesis in the body, summarizes and concluding in the conclusion. This post will not have that.

I think I might have picked up on what you've been trying to say to me. I think I might have honed in on your voice. Of course, it's only been 5 days since Ash Wednesday so I may be crazy. I may be wrong. I may not be on to anything. I may be wandering. I may be rambling. I may be.

I may be right.

Henri Nouwen writes, "I know that true joy comes from letting God love me the way God wants, whether it is through illness or health, failure or success, poverty or wealth, rejection or praise. It is hard for me to say, "I shall gratefully accept everything, Lord, that pleases you. Let your will be done." But I know that when I truly believe my Father is pure love, it will become increasingly possible to say these words from the heart."

I cannot honestly say that I am comfortable saying to you, "I shall gratefully accept everything, Lord, that pleases you. Let your will be done." I am not. I am not comfortable. I am timid when it comes to giving myself up. I am terrified of where that confession, that surrender, that abandon will lead me. I know that if I am to follow your call I am forsaking a life normalcy; but it is not my normalcy I am forsaking. I am asking my wife, my son, my family to abandon normalcy as well.

I understand that I cannot control their response to this call. I understand that you are working in them as you are working in me. I understand. I believe. I trust. I rest in the one who is I am.

My prayer this Lenten season is to abadon myself in you. To leave my old self behind and embrace my new self found solely in you. I have heard your voice and I am responding. I pray that I am able to live into this prayer; for I know that the end of this journey holds something dear; but the journey is going to be long and not easy. Help me to remember the words of Charles de Foucauld:

Father,
I abandon myself in your hands;
do with me what you will.
Whatever you do I thank you.
I am ready for all, I accept all.
Let only your will be done in me,
as in all your creatures,
I ask no more than this, my Lord.
Into your hand I commend my soul;
I offer it to you, O Lord,
with all the love of my heart,
for I love you, my God, and so need to give myself--
to surrender myself into your hands,
without reserve and with total confidence,
for you are my Father.

May I have the strength to pray the above with all my heart, all my strength, all my soul, and all my mind. May you give the courage to say, "I shall gratefully accept everything, Lord, that pleases you. Let your will be done."

Amen.

Lenten Journal: Great is Thy Faithfulness

"A life of faith is a life of gratitude--it means a life in which I am willing to experience my complete dependence upon God and to praise and thank him unceasingly for the gift of being." Henri Nouwen


"Great is thy faithfulness, O God. There is no shadow of turning with Thee; thou changest not, thy compassions, they fail not as thou hast been thou forever wilt be."

When have you not been faithful? When have you turned your back on me? When have you abandon me? When have you not stayed true to your promise?

You would think I would not doubt your faithfulness; yet I do. I lean back on myself. I lean back on my own understandings and my own ways because your ways are too hard. Your ways are too slow. Your ways do not work in this world. Your ways clash with the American way. Your ways have been skewed.

I look back at my life and I know you have been there. I know you have been faithful to me even when I was not. You've walked along side of me. You've carried me when needed. You've cheered me on when no one else would. Your hand has provided. Yet I doubt your faithfulness. Yet, when I look at this world, when I approach my job, when I grow impatient, I doubt your faithfulness. I doubt that you will be here.

It is my ego, my arrogance that blinds me. It is my faith that casts that shadow of doubt. It is the evil that convinces me that you are unable to be faithful. It is a rigid tradition that forgets your promise. It is the self that says, "You must do it on your own." It is the self that denies the gratitude in my heart. It is the self that makes me rely on me instead of you.

Forgive me.

I am humbled by your faithfulness. I am grateful for your mercy. I am thankful and I praise you.

Remove the arrogance from myself. Change my ego. Mold me and make me into something new.