holy compulsion

Have you ever felt compelled to do something? I find I can be compulsive at times and typically I regret the decision to act on such feelings. But do you think there is such a thing as “holy” compulsion?

Lately I have sensed a growing “have to” deep inside of me. It feels like the water of a geyser slowly rising, spreading into the cracks and crevices of the intervening rocks, pressing and growing and forcing its way to the surface. It feels like a mounting force that will not be held within this small confining space, but instead must be free!

This vision, this burden is ever growing, ever expanding, ever seeking expression outside of this confining space of my heart and mind. I can’t hold it back, and I don’t want to. I feel like I can’t keep back the expression of all that has been planted and formed in me. I wonder if this is what a seed feels like just before it bursts through the husk or what a new plant experiences just before its first leaves push up into the full light of day?

How do I hold back? How do I wait? All I want is to give myself fully to this calling, and everything I read and see cries out, “Do it! Go! Hold nothing back!”

O, God, how did Nehemiah do it?! How did he see the vision of the wall of Jerusalem being re-built and wait in the service of the King until he was released? How did he stay put until the way of provision was made ready?

O, my Jesus, how do I?

Facing the hard things

I find it hard to gaze into the face of suffering -- within moments I can't help but look away to hope -- it is just too real, too painful, too close to my own pain for me to allow myself to look long in its direction for I find that despair is close at hand. -- anonymous

When I see suffering, I find that the pain is too great for me and before I know it I am trying to fix it. It is just too difficult and so uncomfortable to accept the way things are without interfering! To just be with someone in the midst of their pain and struggle -- to just be with my own pain and struggle -- is so hard.

To accept that God is still alive, still at work in such things is also hard. And yet, to say that He is not there is unthinkable! If He is not there in my pain, how could I ever believe that He is a God who truly loves me? I have plenty of those "fair weather" friends. But those who are closest are those with whom I have shared my deepest sorrows and greatest struggles, and they have chosen to stay. And best of all, they have chosen to just be with me in the midst of my pain without trying to fix me or the situation. Why would I expect that it would be any different with God?

And so, as I see the pain of loss in the lives of my friends, I will by grace release my own pain and choose to be fully present, engaging their pain, but without interfering. And in this I will trust that Jesus will be their closest friend.

joining his work

I long to create something of beauty. Yet as I sit before the wheel with another lump of clay, surrounding me are the many creations of my hands, and they are far from beautiful. Functional objects with purpose and use, yet rough and sharp in shape.

I return to my work and begin to shape the gray mass into a recognizable form; but AGAIN the result is simplistic and lacking. “I just don’t know how to do this! To create beauty beyond function is beyond me, but I want more! Ugh!” I raise my hand in a fist meant to reduce the object on the wheel again into a spinning, shapeless lump when he grabs my hand from behind in midair just before it finds its mark.

As he grasps my clenched fist my fingers begin to relax. I feel his embrace as he reaches around me from behind laying both his hands onto the back of mine. The gentle strength of his touch reassures me causing me to relax into this one who loves me.

I yield to his movements. My hands again grasp the clay as it turns on the wheel. The gentle press of his fingers over mine as I touch the clay begins to shape the piece in a new way. With his skill working through me the beauty of the piece is beginning to be unveiled. I am creating a thing of beauty.

Could this be what it is to live my life joining him in his work? Not doing it on my own under his teaching, not moving away from the wheel to watch him do the work, but instead to rest into him trusting his movements through me?

chēleq

Ps 119:57a

The LORD is my portion

Ps 16:5a, 11

The LORD is the portion of my inheritance and my cup; . . . Thou wilt make known to me the path of life; in Thy presence is fulness of joy; in Thy right hand there are pleasures forever.

Lam 3:24, 32

"The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "Therefore I have hope in Him." . . . For if He causes grief, then He will have compassion according to His abundant lovingkindness.

Bless you, O, Lord, in whom I find my purpose and worth.

Learning to rest in intention

A couple of days ago I was speaking to a new friend about her times with God and how she desires these times to be intentional. Her quiet time each day typically includes times of prayer, study and silence, but she went onto share her recent struggles in this area because of her own and her child's illness. She commented that her journal ling had been reduced to simple prayers of help to just get through her days.

I challenged her that when her world is pushed by circumstances into these times that they can be just as intentional as her typical routine. But it was way to much for her to easily accept my suggestion that her time with God could be nothing more than curling up on the couch, lying in his lap, and being with him; evening falling asleep like that. She questioned, "If this is the way it is supposed to be then why do we never hear this kind of teaching in our churches?"

My conversation with her brought me back to the things I have been considering this week. I think we as a society, as a church have confused drivenness for intentionality. (My own life and experiences are testimony to this.) I am so glad that I have been introduced to the spiritual disciplines and to spiritual direction because they have caused me to slowly accept a paradigm shift in my pursuit of life; to move from pressing into drivenness to resting in intention.

And so as this week ends and the Sabbath approaches, I am choosing to live a life of intentionality, aware of the contours created by God's creative work in me and others, aware of his bigger work in my life and the lives of others, aware of his presence and activity and goodness into which I am invited to rest and move and be. This will be a process, a growth edge in my life for sometime. Lord, teach me.

intentional living = awake

That which drains me, which steals life and energy away from me, (or in the words of Ignatius) that which is desolation is the way I have been doing this thing called "intentional living". Because of this, I know what living a highly intentional life is NOT:

It is NOT having every moment of my day scheduled and accounted for. It is NOT being sure that every book I read and every movie I watch can be connected to my mission or purpose. It is NOT considering or evaluating all of my activities and pronouncing over them, "That is good. That had impact and worth." Only God can say that, and I am not him.

Instead, I think that living a life that is highly intentional is living life awake.

To be intentional means to live in a state of awareness, wakefulness to God in my surroundings, experiences and relationships. It means living aware of the contours of life and responsive to the bigger work God is doing in me and in others. Practically for me, it means making space in my life to hear and notice and acknowledge God's presence in each activity, involvement, book and movie. It is asking myself each day, "How am I doing living into my longing 'to be on a journey of discovery of God enhanced in the presence of others'?"

So, as I review my day, I need to ask: "What aspects have served to give me life, instill energy, grant consolation? And what aspects have served to give death, drain energy, pronounce desolation?" Then choose to with intent (purpose, aim, goal, design) add more of those activities and relationships that give the first while releasing those that provide the second.

Lord, continue to teach me.

a picture of intention

I clearly don't get it as evidenced by my life, but I think a picture of how this works is taking shape in me.

"to be driven" looks like a farmer plowing a field, traversing a path across his land from one side to the other. picking up the plow and pressing unto that end. Fatigue is a natural result because of the energy it takes to accomplish this kind of work. In this scene, I see myself pushing through even when the grade becomes an uphill climb, all the while hoping for a change in terrain once the hill is accomplished. I keep pushing because the result is so important, in order to plant the seed a furrow must be formed.

"to be intentional" looks like a farmer plowing a field an inner awareness that there is a greater purpose cutting a furrow from end to end of his field. As I press into the plow I remain aware of the contour of the land choosing to follow it rather than cutting across it. The resulting furrow is not straight but instead flows over the piece of intervening property from my starting place unto its end. Looking back at my finished work, I can now see that it was more than a furrow that I cut; a ribbon of soil has been left to embrace the seed that will be cast, keeping it from flowing away in the waters of the spring rain.
Lord, teach me.

Is there an answer in the definitions?

When I don't understand something or feel confused about the meaning or interpretation of a word or phrase I go back to the basics and see what Mr. Webster has to say:

to drive = (1) to push or propel onward with force; (2) to goad by force or compulsion; (3) to provide the motive power for; (4) carry through without letting up

to be driven = to be pushed or propelled onward with force or compulsion

intent = (noun) purpose; aim; goal; design; (adjective) directing one's mind or efforts steadfastly; firmly directed or fixed

intention = (noun) purpose, either ultimate or immediate; aim; goal

intentional = (adjective) resulting from purpose; deliberate; intended

I want a life of purpose that is deliberate, lived with intent; but I definitely DO NOT want a life that is pushed or propelled onward with force, and I certainly don't want to live a life of compulsion.

It is my desire to be highly intentional, to not just float through life allowing circumstances to push me here or there -- I desperately want my life to count, to have impact. So, maybe I have been confused about the application more than about the concept itself? Lord, teach me.

Intentional: What a word?! What a concept?!

Living intentionally is my desire, but it always seems that after a period of time I just get tired -- I eventually regain my strength and motivation and try again but there is this continual waxing and waning intentionality with periods of numbness, fatigue, and just moving through life, nothing more than riding the waves.

It feels like being on a surf board paddling out against the waves where after a time I get tired and have to just lay on the board being tossed and pushed by the waves until I recover and can start paddling again. The puropse of all of the effort makes it all worth it, but . . . ?

I don't think this is how I'm meant to live -- this feels more like drivenness than what I sense a life of intention is supposed to be. Now this is small scale drivenness compared to the life controlling drivenness I used to live, but drivenness none the less.

So, if this isn't the way then what does it mean to be "Highly Intentional"? Lord, teach me.

When God is MIA

Why is it easier to sense God's love and caring in the midst of circumstances beyond our influence -- a natural disaster, cancer, economic disaster -- than we find ourselves in places caused by our own poor decisions? During these times God seems so far away, so distant. It is in this place that I have been dwelling.

I tell myself that God is the same no matter the cause of my circumstance; yet, here I am; yet, this is what I feel.

It's almost like when things come upon me outside of my control then I rest in the fact that God must have allowed this into my life; therefore, he is present and at work through these circumstances. BUT when MY lack of margin, MY lack of planning, MY wrong decisions, or MY lack of obedience place me in the midst of pain and struggle, I feel so alone. I feel like I deserve what I am experiencing, and I am ashamed. And in my shame, I turn away from God, from his grace, from his presence. Now this doesn't happen intentionally, mind you; for in my struggles I am seeking him and his wisdom and his direction -- and yet, things feel different, even false. My innate knowing, my confidence in his presence even when I can't see him fades. I know the truth of his presence in my head, but in the deep place of honesty in me, in my heart, I'm not quite sure.

I see this picture of me surrounded by bright, white light, but its source is behind me as I am kneeling, slumped on the hard, cold concrete surface. My gaze is cast downward into the shadow created by my own small shape, a shadow that is quite dark, isolated from the surrounding brightness. Overcome by this scene, I begin crying out in desperation to the small figure I see.

"Turn around! Do you not see the blinding light of his love? Why are you gazing fixed on the shadow and darkness of your own lack? Do you not feel him kneeling with you surrounding you with his arms of love? How could he not be, you are his beloved. Why do you hold onto what you think you deserve -- darkness, shadow, isolation, rejection?" (The tone of my cry softens as the presence of his love penetrates the scene.) "You don't even have to move. Just look up and you will see how the light of his love is penetrating the darkness of your disobedience and the consequences of your sin. You are loved. He is here with you in this place of your own making, but he IS here, and together you will rise and walk out of this mess."

Lord, I hold the results of my lack and of my sin, but I hold them WITH you until with you and by you the work of restoration is completed.