So That

Two words have haunted me (in a good way) since I heard a message preached by Bill Hybels last summer (I think).

In 2 Kings 19 Hezekiah receives a letter from the Assyrians warning that the Israelites are going to be wiped out. Destruction is right around the corner. Hezekiah spreads the letter out before the Lord, praying that He will save them.

But the key, according to Hybels are the words that have stuck with me – “so that”. Hezekiah asks for God to intervene SO THAT “all the kingdoms of the earth may know that you alone, Lord are God.”

The question he posed was “What’s the ‘so that’ of our prayers?” God puts His power behind prayers for His purposes and glory.

I’ve thought about it A LOT as I’ve prayed.

Will this prayer further God’s kingdom on earth? Or is it really just about furthering MY kingdom?

Am I praying about this so that I’ll be more comfortable? Look good in the eyes of others? Feel like I’m in control?

But those words have bounced around in my brain regarding other things too…

What’s the so that of this blog? What’s the so that of my work? What’s the so that of my parenting?

What am I spreading out before the Lord today? Is it worthy of His attention?

Are my “so that’s” about my glory or God’s? Sigh.

I'm trying the discipline of actually adding "so that..." to the end of each prayer to force me to think about this.

What are your “so that’s” today?

Fight

Friday morning John and I had a fight. A big fight. Well, not exactly a fight.

In case you didn’t know, John's very competitive. (I am too. I’m the one telling the story so I don’t have to mention that, but I'm trying to be fair).

We were on the golf course and I thought John acted like a jerk and hurt my feelings and I got teary and after arguing about it we didn’t speak.

Towards the end of our round he said, “Do you have any ideas about how to get on the solution side of this?” And I said “No.” and that was that. Ok, maybe it wasn’t my finest hour.

We went our separate ways and I talked to two of my best friends, both of whom said they didn’t know what the issue was, but they were on my side. Totally. They were sure I was completely right and justified in my feelings and John deserved the worst punishment imaginable. They are good friends.

I told them we were supposed to speak to engaged couples about how to have a happy marriage at a marriage mentor dinner at 6:00. Ugh.

My one friend said “You guys have the best marriage of anyone I know so I’m sure you’ll get it figured out by 6:00.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to get it figured out. What I really wanted to do was tell John he was on his own and he could go talk about marriage without me. (Again, not my finest hour)

John and I both ended up at home for lunch. I was silent. (my family’s way of dealing with conflict). He tried again. He apologized.

I said it was fine, but I still didn’t like him very much.

Later in the afternoon I was laying down on the couch in our living room staring at the ceiling and I started thinking about John, and our marriage, and a gift he got last Christmas.

I thought of this bank that Katy and Maggie gave him. You push a coin through the slot in the top and there’s a digital counter that adds up the amount in the jar. John and the girls spent a chunk of Christmas day putting in coins and seeing the amount grow. Now it sits on a stand at our back door where John can add his change when he comes in. It’s about 3/4 full and registers $83.50

We’ve been married almost 28 years and John’s done a LOT to make deposits in our relationship.

I thought of all the ways he honors me, affirming me both publicly and privately. And more than that how he honors me by what he doesn’t say.

Example: He has never said anything remotely critical about my looks. He has never said “Gee, do you really think you should eat that ginormous 983 calorie dessert with 52 grams of fat?” (for which I’m eternally grateful)

Then I thought of how he serves me in so many little ways, like covering me with a blanket when we’re watching TV., or calling every day when he’s on his way home from work to see if I need anything at the store.

Over the years John has been a jerk once or twice. And I’ve been a jerk probably more often than that. Each time we’ve made withdrawals from our relational bank.

I’m thankful for the deposits we’ve made and the reserve that’s there. It all adds up…makes sense, and that’s the truth and it’s ok, but what if it didn’t?

In many relationships the withdrawals are greater than the deposits and God calls it grace.

Grace doesn’t add up. Doesn’t make sense. Grace doesn’t keep track of wrongs…or withdrawals.

God doesn’t keep track when John is thoughtless or I am selfish. His mercies are new every morning and the bank is always full.

For that I am profoundly grateful.

694

The other day I was driving to our church where I was going to a blessing service for a couple celebrating their 8^th anniversary. Their year has been roller coaster of tragedy and joy in which they lost their two-year-old son in a drowning accident and welcomed the birth of their 3^rd baby. I was joining others in our community to surround and pray for them.

As I turned onto the ramp to get onto highway 100 there was a woman, about 50 years old, standing holding a sign that just said 694. Here’s what went through my head:

• That woman needs a ride to highway 694.
• She’s probably crazy.
• She’s a woman and she doesn’t look dangerous so maybe I could take her and not risk being killed or robbed or raped.
• I’m already doing a good thing (really, a HOLY thing). I have to get to this service or people will be disappointed because I said I’d be there.
• How long would it take me to drive her to 694? That's a long ways away isn't it? WHERE on 694?
• Doesn't it go in a circle? What if I end up driving in circles endlessly for the rest of my life?
• Is this like the story of the Good Samaritan in the Bible?
• Am I like the priest that hurried by on his way to church?
• But did HE have a “legitimate” excuse like mine?
• Did they have dangerous mentally ill people in the Bible standing along the side of the road needing help or were they just safe, “ordinary” people?
• Does Jesus make exceptions to the “rule” of loving others? Like only when you don’t have another commitment or only when it’s clearly safe?

I drove past her with my questions swirling, and pulled into the church parking lot.

Church?

Last Sunday I was back in my home church for the first time after a long away. As I sat there singing songs that brought back powerful memories of God’s faithfulness, and rejoiced at the birth of a new baby, and reflected on the years with a colleague who is leaving, I looked across the sanctuary at someone whose words wounded me, another enduring the pain of a divorce, and one who looked like there was anywhere he’d rather be…

I thought, this really is the church.

We’re like any large quirky, dysfunctional family that sits around the Thanksgiving table and laughs together, and sometimes hurts each other, but are there for hugs when the chips are down and know that at the end of the day there’s love and grace because we’re in this together to the end of the road.

While we were away we worshipped in all different settings around the world –

• With a handful of believers in an Anglican service in a chapel in the Swiss Alps

• With a large American congregation where we felt kind of like we were on a rowdy tour bus with guides who talked at us a lot and kept drawing our attention from one thing to another without letting us take it in before we were off again on a rollicking ride up hill and down, turning this way and that.
• In a video venue with thousands in different locations, connected only by technology and a love of Jesus.
• With Africans in a room made of mud - beautiful voices raised in worship, singing, “This is my story, this is my song; praising my Savior all the day long.”

In the end, I always think about how my friend Stefan described church once. He said, sometimes we come into worship and we feel confident of the words we sing about God. We feel strong and secure and sure of His love and goodness. But there are other days when we come into worship full of pain and doubt and we need others in the Body of Christ to sing the words for us. Someone to sing the words you can’t. To affirm that indeed God is good even when He seems distant, and it’s going to be ok and there will be a time when you can sing the words again yourself.

I’m wondering about each of you reading this. Will you be in church this Sunday? What kind of church is it? How do you feel when you go there?

Wherever you are today, if you’re not able to sing the words yourself, I pray you have a faith community around you who will sing them for you until you can.

Stars and Spiritual Loserdom

Every night we were in Africa we looked up at a magnificent night sky away from the artificial lights of any city and located the two bright stars that point to the southern cross. Beyond amazing.

And every night when we looked up, I thought of my favorite verses in Isaiah 40 that say “Look up on high and see who has created these stars, behold the One who leads forth their host by number. He calls them all by name. Because of the strength of His might and the glory of His power not one of them is missing.”

I think of the names of all the remarkable, courageous people we met in Africa this time - Rose, Angela, Richard, Mary, Myon, Ruthie, Bruce, Potiphar… And so many more.

It is faith-building to know that just as God knows the names of the stars He created, He was in those ends-of-the-earth places in Zambia long before we were and He knows His children by name. In fact Isaiah 36 says He has inscribed our names on the palms of His hands so He will never forget us.

So it was a jolt, yesterday, when I got an email from a friend who had been with us and she wrote, “ I find that I am…thinking about the women and families we met, praying for them, struggling to imagine what life day after day, year after year is like for them. Recognizing that the same scriptures we read and the same Holy Spirit is present among them.”

When I read her note I felt like the most ungodly loser in history. I felt like a cartoon character who had run on flippity, Fred Flinstone feet, crashing right into a closed door. Dazed, and shaking my head, I realized I hadn’t been thinking about those women. At all. I was enjoying Starbucks and my own soft bed and walking by the lake again. Sure, I have given some thought to how to raise money to improve the lives of those we met, but thinking personally about them? Remembering individuals I met who wake up in a mud hut? Struggle against HIV? Walk hours to get dirty water? Putting myself in their place daily? Don’t want to go there.

My friend’s email was convicting and a reminder that that is exactly what God does. He sees them. He walks with them. He grieves with them. He enters into their pain. Their names and ours are engraved on the palms of His hands. I may forget or compartmentalize, but He won’t.

This coming Sunday before worship at our church we’re doing a mile called “Hope Walks” to raise money and awareness for those with AIDS in the Africa. As I walk I will be praying for those we left behind - a very small way to enter back into their pain.

Beauty and Poverty/Coming Home, part 2

As I’ve been soaking up all that is lovely about being home in Minnesota where there are shady trees and lakes and bike trails, I’ve had to reconcile the fact that I am blessed with all this and most people aren’t.

As much as we had delightful experiences during our time away, we also were involved in the work of World Vision for a time which brought us into relationship with the poorest of the poor – courageous men and women who are holding onto hope under the worst of circumstances.

How can such beauty exist in a world alongside the ugliness of AIDS, dirty water, violence, poverty…? And why am I privileged to enjoy the beauty when others aren’t?

I talked to a friend of mine about a month ago who is engaged in the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. She has shared similar struggles to reconcile her privilege with the pain of others.

She had come from a trip to the Middle East and was on a sailing trip with her son in the most beautiful part of the world as she grappled with this. After wrestling for weeks she felt like God’s word to her was “This - all around you - is My creation. It’s how I meant the world to be before sin entered. The beauty, and the joy you experience are good gifts from Me. Soak up all you can. Use it to fuel your passion to advocate on behalf of those who do not have what you do.”

Another friend’s words have also been helpful. His prayer each morning is:

Lord let me see what you see and hear what you hear.

Let my heart be broken by the things that break your heart.

And help me not to duck.

So, these days I’m trying not to duck. I’m soaking up “patches of God light” and trying to find more ways to help our friends in the shadows.

Coming Home, part 1

After four months, four continents, seven countries and a kaleidescope of friends and new experiences we’re home and savoring all that is summer in Minnesota. I am grateful beyond words for the glorious months of adventure we had. So many gracious, generous people made this possible for us. We’re planning a thank you dinner but it will be an inadequate expression of the indebtedness we feel to so many.

The second of three flights we took home from Africa was one of the longest possible – 16 hours and one minute. It gave me a chance to reflect and lean forward towards summer at home in Minnesota. As much as the past four months have been made of over-the-top exciting stuff, I watched a favorite old musical on the plane that reminded me of the simple summer pleasures of past years – rich memories of times with my grandmother, mom, and daughters.

Shady trees and lilacs and fresh rhubarb. Times of creating and hospitality and curling up with a good book. Cut flowers, board games, and a glider on the screened porch. Baking cookies for friends.

As kids we took naps on a sheet spread on my Grandmother’s living room floor with a fan blowing on us. I’m thinking that might be a great tradition to revive.

At home now, I head into each day with no other plan than to pray that God will make our next steps clear. Meanwhile, my place is where He chooses to put me each day and I’m savoring the lovely things of a simple summer.

What’s a summer memory you’d like to relive?