Be still and know.

In general, I don't make New Year's resolutions. For one, I never fulfill them, so I don't really see much point. Also, my birthday lands at exactly the time the holiday season kicks off, so I count years birthday to birthday and not by the new calendar put into use two weeks later. Which is why, this year, I find myself surprised at making a resolution: I will be better at blogging.

I started this blog because I wanted to communicate what was happening in my life and missionary journey with my friends and family scattered around the world. And, as the title suggests, I want to be open and honest with all of you about what is filling my heart and mind. So from now on, I'll be posting a new blog at least once a week. I promise. Even if I have no real thoughts.

So here is my thought for this week.

On Saturday, I fly back to Southern California, where I'll be spending the next few months. I have some support raising to do and some clerical stuff needs to be sorted out before I can be get a residence visa for living here in the UK. And since my flight home looms ever nearer, I have been thinking through what God has been teaching me, revealing to me, and shaping in me over the past 6 months. And I've come up with two key things, I'll go into the second in my next post, but the first is this: "Be still and know that I am God."

Last night as I was going to bed, I fell down the stairs in my flat; not many stairs, but enough to make an impact. My foot missed the step, so I slid down, landing at a weird angle on top of my foot and slamming into the wall. Don't worry, I'm fine, but today, my right foot and right knee are pretty stiff and my back is on fire. Leaving the flat and going for the walk I'd planned are off the table though. What has struck me more than the discomfort is that this has been a theme of the last six months.

Since arriving in London I have been housebound with the flu for at least a month added together, plus another 3 weeks with various foot and ankle injuries, and now this latest tumble. All of which interrupted grand plans to spend my days exploring the city, diving into the community, and taking massive amounts of photographs: all of the things I had scheduled for this season. Now a fair amount of that has happened but, counter to the "taking the city by storm" that I had planned, God had set aside this time to take me by storm in a fresh way. My understanding of who he is has been blow open. My vision of what he is calling me to has been simultaneously sharpened and broadened. And I am left with more questions and fewer answers than ever before. It's been amazing.

I'll be sharing with you as the seeds God planted this fall take shape. But for now I can simply reflect on God's graciousness to force my to slow down and listen to him. And as I'm housebound again today, I will be taking this opportunity to be still and listen to the voice of my Father.

Fairly Tumultuous

Over the last few weeks, I have been helping with a Bible study at my local church for people exploring Christianity. Ironically, the one American attending the study was randomly assigned to my group. Susan is in many ways an embarrassing American stereotype. She is a bit loud, a bit abrasive and a bit more familiar than Brits are comfortable with. Shamefully, tonight (our fourth week) was the first time I really spoke with her.

We were making friendly small talk about her family and work, then somehow we began talking about her personal life. And she told me the story of how after 4 daughters and 20 years of marriage her husband had left her for a younger woman. She very casually described that period of her life as "fairly tumultuous". I responded that tumultuous must be a rather mild description of it. And then she said one of the saddest things I have ever heard.

She said that in four and a half years, that was the most sympathetic thing anyone has said to her about the dissolution of her family.

I couldn't help but fight back tears as I looked at this woman, so broken and hurting with no one to embody Christ's compassion in her life. And I thought of how wrong that is, how God's heart must break when he sees her living her life so alone.

I believe that as Christians our role in the world is to be agents of restoration. That we are to be God's hands in healing brokenness and showing mercy. But as I sat and listened to Susan's very real pain, I was challenged afresh by how incapable I am of accomplishing that on my own.

How It Is

There is a new installation at the Tate Modern in London by Miroslaw Balka, called "How It Is". The installation is basically this: a giant metal box lined with felt into which people can walk. As you enter the box, the world around you gets progressively darker. The people you have entered with get harder and harder to sense, even thought they are only 6 inches away. And when you reach the end, you are are staring into a dizzying and disorienting darkness that seems to go on forever. I have heard that the artist has described being inside the box as "the state of society today."

During a walk along the river today, I experienced "How It Is". I have never experienced anything like it.

As I walked further and further into the box, I felt an ever-increasing sense of dread, fear and confusion. All I wanted was to reach out to someone and know that I was not alone. When I reached the end of the box and was staring straight into the pitch-black felt, I felt that there must be no end to the blackness. I found myself touching the felt wall several times just to remind myself that there was an end to it, and as soon as I felt the end the room stopped spinning.

And all I could think of, was that every day, all around me, Londoners live in a sense of isolation just like the one I was feeling. They live in a world of darkness and confusion, never knowing when it would end.

After leaving the box, I stood for some time and watched my friend playing with his one-year-old son just outside the exhibit. You could tell by the way he looked at his little boy, and by the way the boy looked at him, how much my friend loves his son and how secure the boy feels in that love. And I was struck by the contrast between the two experiences, the box and the boy. And in that moment, I was toppled by the fact that we were all meant to experience the love that boy knew, and that just as much as my heart broke with the isolation of the box, God's heart breaks even more over the isolation and fear and loneliness so much of the world feels everyday.

Snowball

You know when to describe something that made perfect sense to you, but you couldn't find the words? So you do your best to describe it using almost the right words. But then all of the sudden the imperfect words start to define the idea and it takes on a direction of its own. And then it snowballs into something you never intended?

This has been kind of the situation for me since arriving here in Britain. I have had a very clear picture in my head of who I feel called to for a while, and I have spent the last year trying to find the words to create a picture for everyone I've left behind. The best word I could find was Creatives.

Here is an example of who I meant:

I have a friend who was a dancer when she was younger, but was injured and had to stop. She now works for her local government overseeing projects aimed at at-risk youth. She doesn't dance much any more, but her soul still longs for and is fed by the creative.

And it is a common theme. Many more people have creative souls than are actually working in the creative arts industries. Unfortunately, in London Creatives are the people who work in the arts and media. So I landed myself in a trajectory that I never intended, simply by using one word. And I have spent a chunk of my time here following that trajectory but not feeling quite right about it.

Yet another life lesson I suppose.

So allow me to elaborate further on what I meant all alone.

Just like my friend the former dancer, or the artist that works as a teacher, or the former member of a Christian girl-band. The realities of life are that lots of creative souls grow up to do ordinary, unglamourous jobs. But the beat of their heart for the creative still remains. Some of them are Christians and some are not. But all of them long to find a way to connect who they are deep down with the practical demands of the life they live.

I was having coffee yesterday with a colleague who is in London for a few days. He used to work as a bartender, and he described to me the way night after night he would see people who felt suffocated by the 9-5 jobs they worked come in and drink. They spent all day in a cage and in the evening they needed to remember who they were, that deep down they were wild, passionate and free.

These are the people that I love. The people who are lost in a life that leaves them longing for more, unsure where to find it. The people whose souls cry out to be nurtured in a way that is meaningful to them.

There is a line in the David Bowie classic "Under Pressure" that illustrates who and what my heart beats for. I hope it helps you see who have been seeing for the last year.

"And love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night, and love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves."

Separation & Sacrifice

I have been doing a lot of reading and thinking about the Christian life in recent weeks. In my quest to nail down the basics of what it looks like to live the life God intended for each of us. There are a handful of experts who have written books and given talks on the subject, and I've been trying to glean as much knowledge from them as possible. But there is one thing that they all seem to miss: sacrifice.

I cannot say with certainty that sacrifice is something we are meant to make an effort to achieve, like pursuing justice or living in loving community. And, I definitely want to distance myself from any theory that defines our relationship with God by what we don't do. However, I am beginning to see that we cannot live an authentic, Christ filled existence without some level of sacrifice.

Today, I have lived fully in the midst of my sacrifice, losses I knew were coming, and yet painful all the same.

First, as scheduled, my brother had heart surgery: a stressful experience regardless. But it was somehow harder knowing that my family was gathered around him and I was not. Now the neurotic in me wanted to be there because, deep down inside, I feel if something were to go wrong I could jump in and solve the problem, but if it all went pear-shaped without me, how would they fix it? (Ridiculous I realize, but I'm sure a feeling you can relate to.) But there was also a profound sense of loss and isolation, knowing that my family were sharing a significant experience that I cannot participate in. I've just heard that the surgery went well, and at this point my life-saving skills needn't be called upon, for which I am truly grateful.

However, another event is taking place that I will be absent for as well. My grandfather, who has been on hospice care since Christmas, fell and broke his pelvis two days ago and has been in the hospital since then. My grandmother received a call from the doctors today telling her that the end was very close. So he'll be with the Lord very soon. As sad as it is for me, it does not come as a profound shock, and in some ways it is a mercy. But now I will miss the funeral of a man I deep love and admire. Once again, the life I have been called to will keep me away from a significant family event, one I want to participate in.

So why do it? Why continue to serve God in the way that I do when I know that this is the cost? It is days like today that remind me that worship is not just something we do by singing a few songs on Sunday. It is offering to God that which we hold most dear; it is pouring out libations of blood that cost us something.

August Ministry Update

A good friend of mine recently said, “If we were smart, we would stop asking God to have his way with our lives.” Fortunately, I am not very smart in that respect.

I’d like to start off out communications by telling about one of the ways in which that prayer was answered for me. When I first got back from England three years ago, I felt a little lost. For the first time in my life I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. The only thing I did know was that I eventually wanted to get back to England. But the rest of life was unknown. After some searching and experimentation, God started to show me where He wanted me and what He wanted me to do there.

As a result of God gradually revealing His plan for my life, I have become a vocational missionary in London on staff with CRM. My aim is to create environments where non-mainstream people can have an authentic experience with God. And up until about two weeks ago the plan has been to teach for my first few years here and gradually reduce my teaching schedule as ministry demands grew.

And then I attended CRM’s First Things training (their orientation for new staff); it was a truly profound week for me. It gave me the opportunity to meet eight other people who are also new to CRM’s staff. I received some training in how to share about my ministry in a variety of ways. And I reconnected with some of the CRM staff that I have known for years.

But even more importantly, during that week God changed my heart about what ministry could look like. For some time I had been concerned about the physical toll teaching took on me, and wasn’t sure how much energy I would have left for ministry. But I trusted the plan God had for me. Then during the First Things training I began to imagine what ministry could look like if it took up all of my time, not just a small piece of it. And it got me really excited! It looked like the life I had always dreamed of living. So I began to pray about whether this was God’s will or mine. And shortly after I arrived in London, I sat down with one of the godliest women I know and asked her opinion.

It became clear during our discussion that I already knew what the answer was. I have no doubt that God’s plan all along was for me to be a full-time missionary, not a missionary and teacher. I also have no doubt that God had reasons for only revealing each step of my journey to this moment one piece at a time, and that my experience teaching is still part of the unrevealed greater plan for my life. Over the last couple of years, I have really grown in my faith and understanding of who God is, as well as in my understanding of myself. The teaching training has made me a better communicator and a more confident leader. I am also sure that I’ve learned things I don’t even realize will play a part in ministry.

Obviously, this changes some things, and I’ll share those as time goes on. But I wanted to get us rolling by sharing my heart and the thus far illuminated plan.

The Cardinal Virtues

In his book, Mere Christianity, CS Lewis outlines the four cardinal virtues, "those which all civilized people recognize."* They are Prudence, Temperance, Justice and Fortitude. Or, to paraphrase Lewis' interpretation, Exercised Intelligence, Moderation, Fairness and Courage. My question is this: What could the world look like if Christian faith communities committed themselves to living out these virtues?

Now clearly, there is more to devoting your life to following Jesus than just incarnating these four virtues. But think of this: If these are the principles of right living which civilized society recognizes, how many people, Christians or non, really live them out? And if everyone recognizes them as the right way to live, then why are Christians not making it their first priority to become standard bearers for these cardinal virtues.

In a society where Christians are seen as part of the problem, we must instead become a guidepost to the solution. We need to be inviting them to a life they are excited about living, and we need to model that life in a way that is inviting. What if, when people looked at Christians, they saw a group of people leading the charge against hunger and poverty? What if they saw a group of people committed to being the best they could in their respective fields or positions? What if they saw a group of people who ate, drank, slept, purchased, worked and played enough but never too much?

What if that is what it meant to be a Christian from the world's perspective? Who could help but be intrigued by that group of people? Who could help but be drawn to it?

Just imagine what the world could be, and how we could make it more like what God originally intended.

*Lewis, C.S. Mere Christianity. HarperOne. New York. 1952