Vish

God puts the most interesting people in my path. I recently met a young man at Turning Point named Vishy. That's short for a much longer name I can't remember, spell or pronounce. He is from India. He is intelligent, creative, articulate ... and broken.

Vish has a Ph.D. in biology. He's a playwright and an actor. He's a writer. A thinker of deep thoughts. He is all these things, but none of them seem to matter much right now because he is dead broke; nearing the point of total desperation.

He has a naturally happy-go-lucky way about him. I first met him probably about 6 weeks ago. Two weeks ago, I noticed a strange presence had come over him. I could tell he was depressed and trying hard to pull himself out of the nose dive. Depression does not suit him; it is obvious he is quite uncomfortable with it. And I wondered what, if anything, I could do to help him.

I read today that the birth of Christ represents God's passionate desire to walk among us; to draw near to us. And he continues to long to walk among us, only now he accomplishes that through the likes of you and me. That makes so much sense to me. This particular reading reminded me that believers are to tell the story of Christ's birth at Christmas and live it the remainder of the year.

When I see Vishy, I just try to smile and make conversation; give him a little pep talk; tell him I believe he's going to make it; assure him God is with him. He seems to appreciate these words and was recently particularly fascinated with my suggestion that he "speak" a job into existence. (That's his greatest problem right now, you see, unemployment and a looming deadline to find work by Jan. 15, the date he must move out of the shelter because, he's been told, Turning Point is not for people like him.)

And so, poor Vish is between a rock and a hard place. He's not broken enough to remain at Turning Point, according to the powers that be. Yet the threat of the street is literally hitting him straight between the eyes. I can see the dignity and hope breaking down, falling away, leaving a shell of a man, and it breaks my heart.

I know that God takes care of us. I know he is at work in the invisible world and I believe that right now, God is up to something on Vishy's behalf. And when it happens, I'll be the second-happiest person about it. I'll breath a sigh of relief. And I'll say to myself, of course, I knew it all along, God comes through again.

But until then, I'll have to keep watching the hard part -- witnessing the spiral as one human being feeds on the crumbs of diminishing hope.

Solitude

I was reading the latest installment of a book I bought a few months ago entitled, Running on Empty by Fil Anderson. It promotes itself as a devotional for over-achievers.

Today's chapter was on solitude -- and its role in attending to the needs of our soul.

Jesus asked his followers, "What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?" (Matthew 16:26)

This passage is speaking more toward spending all our time and energy on activities and pursuits that have little or no eternal value. But what Anderson seems to be driving at in his book is the idea that attending to the needs of one's soul is an important undertaking; yet it is one to be undertaken more by God than by us.

Anderson views solitude as shutting ourselves off from all stimulation and outside forces in order to give God some space, some margin, to work in; providing him access to us so that he can feed our souls.

I confess I struggle with solitude. It is very difficult for me to be completely still; I always have to be about something, it seems. And when I am completely still and attempting space-granting solitude, it is very likely I'll fall asleep.

Anderson says we use this very excuse (falling asleep) and others like it (my mind wanders, I don't have time, I can't stop thinking, etc.) to avoid the most difficult and demanding person in our lives. No, not God; ourselves.

As a part of this post, I wanted to conduct some field research to see how long I could be completely still. I wondered if I could make it 10 minutes, 15, 20. That seems unimaginable. Well, I didn't even make an attempt, concluding ... yes, you guessed it ... that I didn't have the time; or rather did not choose to spend my time in such an endeavor.

Solitude. My mind and soul crave it, whether I admit it or not. My Heavenly Father desires it. But first, I must concede.

Good morning beautiful!

Good morning beautiful!

You are beautiful with God's beauty, inside and out.

God is with you!!

Those are the angel Gabriel's words to Mary (as rendered by The Message's translation of Luke's gospel) when he greets her to tell her the news of the baby she will bear.

What a great greeting! In fact, I like it so much, I have been trying to imagine God saying that to me when I open my eyes in the morning:

Good morning beautiful Tammy!

You are beautiful with my beauty, inside and out.

I am with you!!

When I "greet" myself on God's behalf in this manner, I remember that the things I do, the words I use, the actions I take, are all about living my life according to God's view of me.

I don't have to "do good" or "be good" to "pay Jesus back" for what he did for me.

I don't have to "do good" or "be good" to make up for my past mistakes.

I don't have to "do good" or "be good" to prove anything to God or anyone else.

I don't have to "do good" or "be good" to make up for my continued shortcomings.

It's all about living out God's view of me TODAY. Wow, that is so cool and empowering and life-giving.

So freeing.

You know it's easy...

I need to be working on the text of a client's website, but why do that when I can sit here and write a post?

"It's so easy to fall in love, it's so easy to fall in love..."

Yes, it is, but I'm not talking today about romantic love. I'm talking today about agape love; unconditional love.

If you wake up in a bad mood, just go love on somebody; works like a charm every time.

If you are bored with life, go love somebody.

If you have too many challenges looking you square in the eye, go love somebody.

If you can't wipe that stupid grin off your face, go love somebody.

I don't usually quote the Beatles, but seriously, love is all you need.

You don't go loving people to distract you from whatever it is you started out focusing on when you woke up this morning. And you don't go loving people to fulfill your do-gooder obligations for the day. You don't go loving people so they will love you back. You don't go loving people so that God will keep loving you.

No, you love people because frankly, they are just so darn easy to love. Even the really annoying ones if you would just look past that. I'm always saying, don't be afraid to be outrageous. How much more outrageous can you get than loving the unlovable?

I can't get this scripture out of my head where the rich young ruler is questioning Jesus about how to inherit eternal life. After telling him, obey the commandments, the guy answers he's done all that. What else is there? This is the part where Jesus could have said, OMG, you arrogant so-and-so, I know for a FACT you have NOT kept all the commandments. Let me refresh your memory a little...

But no, he doesn't do that. It says, "Jesus looked at him and loved him."

I used to think that statement was so out of place. I wanted to say, Jesus, get back to the rules. What are the rules? I'm trying to complete my list...

I see now, though, that Jesus just couldn't help himself from loving people. It came as natural to him as breathing.

What if loving came as natural to us? (To me?)

Here's another song lyric I'll leave you with.... Imagine Jesus crooning to you, "You don't know what it's like ... baby you don't know what it's like ... to love somebody ... to love somebody ... the way I love you!"

So be it.

Time after time

If you recognize the title of this post as a song title from the '80s, you're showing your age.

Today's sermon at church dealt in part with God answering our prayers; and the implication was that he answers them in his time.

Now to say that God answers in his time is not like when your Mama used to say, "Just a minute, I'll be there in a minute..." In fact, God's "time" isn't really time as we understand it at all. How can a God who is omnipresent, everywhere at once, be confined to one particular second in time? You can't even say he is time -- it's beyond that. He defies all human concept of time.

So then to suggest that God answers prayers in his time is really to suggest that it is extremely difficult for us to perceive our prayers being answered. Think about it. You pray and pray and pray about a particular issue and just like the gradual metamorphosis that changes a caterpillar to a butterfly, suddenly something is different; but you're not sure when it began and you're not sure how it came about.

It just is.

Do you remember as a child watching time-lapsed photography for the first time? I do. I was astounded that you could "capture" and represent on film something happening that was actually too slow or gradual for the eye to perceive.

Slow is probably not a good word to use when talking about the manner in which our prayers are answered. The pastor stated today that our prayers never dissipate into the atmosphere; poof -- they're gone. No, the moment we breath them, something begins; a process, if you will. I don't think we know what that something is, but God does.

I don't think it's accurate to refer to the process as "gradual" either. To God, who is neither bound by increments of time nore able to be measured by anything finite, the word gradual has very little meaning.

I want to suggest that really and truly, there are two speeds for God, two increments of time: Nothing and something. Nothing is before God acts; something is "immediately" after.

These kinds of thoughts bend my brain ever so slightly; and I like it. Perhaps on some level, it is comforting to serve a God who does not serve the almighty time piece. For someone who has no beginning and no end, "sooner" and "later" are nearly meaningless.

When Mother used to say "just a minute," you really had no idea if she would ever get around to you at all. But time after time, we can trust God to move from "nothing" to "something." In the mean time, we have to learn to live within the frustrating confines of man-made time, waiting to perceive that "something" that God is about.

Who's On First

I was standing out by the smoke cans at church today, doing what I do most Sundays -- looking for ladies who have indicated they would like to be baptized or renew their baptismal vows. Often, I come into contact with new girls from either of the rehab facilities our church is in ministry with, asking, "How can I do that??" I tell them that during spirituality classes on Mondays, they can talk it over with a member of our ministry team.

Today, the question from one of the ladies was a little different. "I want to renew my baptism, but shouldn't I wait until I feel better? Until I really think I'm ready to do what's right?"

Hmmmm ... good question. Instinctively (or maybe habitually is a better word), I was ready to say, "Yes, definitely, you should wait..." But then I paused just long enough to entertain a different thought.

"Let me ask you this," I said. "Do you think that what you just said might imply that you are the one bringing about transformation instead of God? It's really about what's going on in your heart; the way you desire to be, whether you're able to pull it off or not."

She smiled as we both seemed satisfied with this answer. I told her we could talk it over some more tomorrow.

Yes, God's doing the work, not us. We just step forward and agree to cooperate.

Interestingly enough, that conversation played itself out in another way after the service. I was talking to Shanelle, who had just had her daughter baptized. She was telling me about the "things" going on at the other rehab facility. (I had asked her point-blank about what I perceived as a real funk around that place.) She spent the next few minutes telling me about being disciplined for reading the Bible with other clients, among other things, "because she was pulling them out of their recovery" (don't ask ME what that's supposed to mean). I confess I was flabbergasted.

I questioned her more on this, realizing that sometimes the ladies don't give me an entirely accurate picture of what is going on. At the end of our conversation, I felt discouraged. Yet I said to her, "Well you and I can agree that things are going to be different ..."

I know that God is on first. I know he is the one doing all the real work. I'm just a vessel; just someone stepping forward and trying to cooperate with what he is bringing about. I want to make a phone call on Monday and take someone to task. But something tells me this would be a really bad idea. The response from the staff there lately has not been positive.

I'll just keep showing up and doing what I do. I'll tell myself that Shanelle and I agree about what the ultimate results are going to be.

The rest, I 'll leave to God.

Waiting

O come, o come Emanuel

And ransome captive Israel

That mourns in lonely exile here

Until the Son of God appears

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emanuel shall come to thee o Israel...

I love this song. I believe it is very fitting for Advent -- waiting expectantly for the arrival of the Christ child; believing that arrival will be a time of great rejoicing.

Tomorrow is the first Sunday in Advent, and so I will begin waiting; anticipating; believing.

We drove to a Christmas tree farm today after an enjoyable Thanksgiving #4 with my brother and his family. I know in a matter of hours, the house will be filled with the fragrant aroma of pine trees. I love that smell; it makes me feel happy.

As we listened to Christmas music on the drive there, I fought back the dark feelings that seem to ambush me during this time of year. I said, no, I don't want to feel that way.

On the way home, THIS song came on the radio. "Hey, your favorite song," my husband said, turning up the volume.

I smiled and sang along.

I will choose to rejoice.

Coat tails

I am helping to teach a study at our church called Advent Conspiracy. The premise is that Americans have wandered away from the meaning of Christmas and are entirely ensnarled in consumerism. We believe the way to say "I love you" is to buy something. Even so, the point of Christmas is not necessarily to say "I love you" to our family and friends, but to God.

So the challenge is to rethink Christmas: Worship fully, spend less, give more and love all. The emphasis is on giving presence instead of presents and using the "savings" to help a particular cause; in this case, the world water crisis.

But back to what I really wanted to talk about. As I was reading some of the literature and passages from Luke's Gospel, my awareness was raised or renewed about God's treatment of the oppressed, powerless and marginalized. Two insignificant peasants are chosen to parent the Son of God. A group of ragtag, dirty, uncooth shepherds are the first to hear the announcement of God's gift to the world.

And that's when it hit me ... sitting in my upper middle class house located in my upper middle class neighborhood, I realized that I am merely riding on the coat tails of grace offered to another group of people entirely. It's akin to the Syrophoenecien woman who asks Jesus to heal her daughter, only to be told, "I cannot give the children's bread to the dogs..."

Don't get me wrong, I fully understand that I am in need of a savior. But perhaps I have bought too deeply into the idea that if I was the only person who needed salvation, Jesus would still have come and died just for me. That "just for me" mentality has led me, at times, to approach my faith life with an attitude of "it's all about me."

Suddenly, I'm the one thinking I'm sharing my crumbs with the dogs. How generous of me! How gracious! Ha, God must laugh his butt off to see the way my mind works.

So right now, I'm feeling really thankful that I have been offered even the crumbs of grace; even more so because, though I was meant for crumbs, God has in fact seated me at the banquet table. Instead of turning my nose up to the oppressed and poor and marginalized, or exercising self-righteous pity toward them, I need to drop to my knees and thank God for their existence.

I dunno. I look over this and it sounds a little crazy; a little off-base. It probably reads as pretentious. That's really not how I mean for it to be. Truly, I am thankful to be riding the coat tails.

Two of Four

I had the second of four Thanksgiving dinners this evening. My husband and I went to the personal care home where my Father lives to enjoy a meal prepared for all the residents, families and caregivers.

My Father has lived at this home since June. I finally met the owner in person, although we have had several phone conversations. I also met some other folks I've heard about, like George, who does the grocery shopping and usually takes along with him Chester, another of the gentleman who lives at the home.

My Dad was in eating mode. My stepmom and I took turns placing forkfuls of food into his mouth, wiping his mouth and nose and bringing the water glass to his lips. He seemed really hunched over tonight, but maybe that was just my imagination.

The ladies who care for my Dad are from the Philippines. That means we got to escape turkey and dressing tonight and enjoy some of their authentic cooking: chicken and thin noodles, pork and potatoes, beef stew, egg rolls, rice and beans and some interesting desserts whose names I could not understand.

I had brought my camera with me. I have not taken a photo of my Dad in several years. I was having trouble working up the courage to take it out of my purse; trying not to lose my composure. I suppose it was the realization of why I felt it necessary to take a photo with him; that there may not be too many more opportunities; combined with the dread of seeing the irrefutable proof of the shape he is in.

Most of the time I do OK, but every so often, like tonight, I experience those moments of, "So this is what it's come to..."

I had to squat down to get my face near his. He smiled rather nicely, which surprised me, and was able to lift his head enough to where it was visible in the photo. (He always liked having his picture taken; always liked being the center of attention.)

My stepmom and I made small talk about his condition. Doesn't he look good? Hasn't his face filled out? Isn't his hair nice? Don't they keep him well groomed and clean and happy? We talked a little about his meds and, for some reason, I felt the need to take care of her feelings by assuring her, oh sure, he doesn't know me anymore now that he's on that new med, but I'm sure he was just on the brink of that anyway. (I don't really know that to be a fact, but ... what difference does it really make at this point?)

I also had my husband take a photo of Chester and I. Chester is pretty sweet on me (but then I've noticed he's a real lady's man ... sweet on anything in a skirt). When I stood close and he put his arm around me, he joked, "Your husband's not going to shoot me, is he?" I had him take a second photo with me planting a kiss on Chester's cheek. I promised him I'd bring a print of them both the next time I came to visit and told the caregiver, "Now he can tell everyone I'm his girlfriend." (He usually talks about Kathy, his girlfriend from WWII who wrote him every single day while he was in the service, but later married movie star John Doucette; and yes, I've heard that story several times, including the part about the bracelet he wears that bears the inscription, "Love always, Kathy.")

Last year, I brought my Dad to my house briefly for Thanksgiving, but he is past his traveling days at this point. Next year, I wonder if he'll even be sitting up at all. I wonder what I'll be looking at as I say to myself, "So this is what it's come to..."

Litmus test

When you're having a bad day, it's really a perfect opportunity to answer THE question in ministry: Who am I doing this for? If I'm doing it for me, I will complain a lot and eventually quit. If I am doing it for God and others, I will tell myself, "snap out of it" and move on.