Category: Faith

Disneyland Dreams

Fantasy and reality often overlap. ~Walt Disney

Disneyland. Little girls in princess attire, mouse-eared moms. A damp-haired toddler, one Tigger-bounce away from a meltdown, rubs his sticky eyes. I nod in sympathy.

Humidity and happiness compete for our allegiance as the temperature climbs. It occurs to me that in one day I will bump into more sweaty strangers than my ancestors knew existed.

Desperate dreams…

There was another time the strains of zippity do dah failed to inspire. Seven years ago, Disneyland with the family–in the dim light of the Aladdin show I let frustrated tears come. After long months of prayer, a roller coaster of hopes raised and stomped on, another disappointment. A call had come while we waited in line, “Sorry, you didn’t get the job.” My son’s jaw clenched as he turned off his phone.

“When you wish upon a star your dreams come true,” crooned the mocking voice in my head. I focused my desperation not on the cricket, but on the God who awakens our dreams. “Is it all a lie? Do our prayers, do we, matter to you? Are we left to hide from our longings, to accept whatever fate decides?”

Later, as the nightly fireworks faded, I heard an answer.

“My child, I have something so much more profound to give you than the shallow mythology of this place. If you live as if Follow Me means Acquire Me, magic wand included, only disappointment waits.” I swallowed hard. “Yet,” I whispered back, “nothing is impossible with you. You taught us that tiny seed-faith moves mountains, and we have planted all our hopes in you.”

…come true.

Recently, as I strolled through Disney’s enchanted lands with husband and daughter, my son welcomed new students to high school algebra. I wonder if seven years ago he didn’t get the job we prayed for, because God had in mind the job he was made for.

“Take delight in the LORD,” the psalmist urges, “and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Dream. Let God enfold your dream into his. And watch while he makes the together-dream come true. That’s what Jiminy Cricket really meant.

Do you trust God with your dreams, with the deep desires of your heart?

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Faith Life

True Theology: Live What You Know

Post author By Janet Hanson
Post date August 21, 2012
9 Comments on True Theology: Live What You Know

The devil is a better theologian than any of us and is a devil still. ~A.W. Tozer

Theology is my life-long love. I read it, debate it, study it. I sometimes defend my version of it with a passion that surprises me. Here’s the problem. Theology is not so much the study of God, but the study of what others believe about God.

Which is appropriate. We don’t reinvent the wheel with each generation. Our faith stands on the wisdom of the past.

But if the truth we are defending is the truth we have been told, a reflection of the bubble surrounding our thought life, how can we know it is truth?

Power struggles waged on websites and from pulpits distract and wound the church. Gate keepers and destroyers of tradition alike form a death grip on ideas and verbally stone any nuanced discussion in between. Hostility is passed down the pews behind the offering plate, and the message is clear: whatever you do, don’t believe and act as they do, or you will be next.

Engage in the battle or drift with indifference? I have sampled the futility of both. There is a better way.

Live what you know

Stop nibbling and start devouring. Open your Bible and eat the entire meal. Read it, not just a few proof-texts, not just the chapters that confirm your own bias, but the whole story–looking for God’s overall plan, his heart, motives and desires.
With humility and an open mind, and the sincere intention to allow the Spirit of Jesus Christ to penetrate your defenses, invite him to shake and reshape your assumptions.
Then tangibly live out the heart, motives and desires of God in the world he told us he loves.

This is true theology, this is true religion, this is what changes the world.

How have your assumptions about God been shaken lately?

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Faith

Sabbath Quiet: Wait A Little

Post author By Janet Hanson
Post date August 19, 2012
2 Comments on Sabbath Quiet: Wait A Little

O if the things of God were your true delight and pierced your inmost heart, how could you complain even once?

Wait a Little

My child, the burdens you take up for my sake will not break you, rather my promise will strengthen and comfort you in every adversity. I can repay you beyond all measure.

Not for long will you labor on earth, nor will you be oppressed with sorrows forever. Wait a little, and you will see the swift end to your troubles. The hour will come when all toil and trouble will cease. Everything in time is short lived and of little consequence.

Labor with all your might. Loyally work in my vineyard; I will be your recompense. Write, study, worship, mourn, be silent, pray. Bear your crosses bravely; eternal life is worth all these battles and more.

Peace will come at a time that is known to the Master, and it will not last a day or night of the present time, but forever, an unlimited brightness, boundless glory, a settled peace, and sure rest. For death will be cast headlong down, and health will be unfailing, anxiety unknown, joy a blessedness, fellowship sweet and beautiful.

O if the things of God were your true delight and pierced your inmost heart, how could you complain even once? Is not all pain to be endured for the sake of eternal life? It is no small matter to win or lose the kingdom of heaven.

So, lift your face to heaven; behold me, and all my saints, who in this world fought a great fight! Now they rejoice, now they are consoled, now they are safe, now they have rest. Forever they will dwell with me in my Father’s house.

Thomas à Kempis, The Imitation of Christ

Photograph by Ted Martinson Butchart Gardens, Victoria, BC

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Culture Faith Life

10 Habits Of Life Uncurled

Every time you do something that comes from your need for acceptance, affirmation, or affection…you know you are not with God. ~Henri J.M. Nouwen

The woman gripped her grocery cart and muttered disgust as I passed. The aisle was crowded and it was clear I had steered through an opening without waiting my turn. My first impulse was to give her a hug–my day was going fine. But I’ve been in that muttering place, when the slightest offense left me reeling.

Last week we looked at the 10 habits of the self-absorbed. A wood shaving describes our sin nature–curled into itself, protecting the deep wound of disconnection from our Creator. The topic is a timely one. Politicians and preachers alike applaud the individualistic orientation exemplified in Ayn Rand’s paean to narcissism, Atlas Shrugged. Has it ever been so socially acceptable to be selfish?

But selfish is not what we were made to be. A reader’s recent comment rings true:

…the way I rid myself of self-centeredness is not to somehow discipline myself in difficult, tempting situations; but rather to allow God to “crowd out” pride with His love.

Beautiful–love crowding out pride.

This is every person’s problem: we don’t know how deeply we are loved. We don’t feel welcome, we don’t feel blessed, we sense we are vulnerable and threatened, so life is reduced to strategic self-defense. We don’t understand that we are wired to respond to Love with love, and to allow our gracious, other-centered Savior to uncurl our souls.

But we must practice the habits of grace if we would resist the pull inward.

10 Habits of Life Uncurled:

Take the worst seat, the last place in line.
Find quiet ways to serve those who can’t repay.
Argue an issue from the opposing point of view.
Give the attention you crave to somebody else.
Speak ten grateful words for every one grumble.
Let others talk–be silent and listen.
Live open-handed, releasing control.
Say often and out loud, “I could be wrong.”
Treat with respect the NO of another.
Journal the feelings you are tempted to avoid.

What habits help your soul uncurl?

Image credit flickr-milomingo

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Faith Life

Songbird Sing

Be like the bird who, pausing in her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing she has wings. ~Victor Hugo

A songbird perches on the highest branch of my neighbor’s tree, thrilling me with its tale.

What does it cry? What lyrics attend the anonymous melody? If I knew the words, I could sing along.

“All nature sings and around me rings the music of the spheres,” the hymnist observed. “The birds their carols raise, the morning light, the lily white declare their Maker’s praise.”

Why is my tongue so silent? What ancient wound has left humans, alone of all creation, mute and turned inward, singing our bitter songs of injury and offense? Why don’t wanderers and poets hike through forest and meadow to hear our songs, to receive our blessing, to catch a glimpse of the One in whose image we are made?

One day, with camera in hand, I rambled through an alpine meadow. With every slight turn of my head the mountains, trees, grasses, wildflowers and lake bent toward me–“over here, don’t miss this scene!” The distasteful task of self-promotion was my morning’s struggle–the curse of the introvert with writing to share. To say, “look at me” or “see what I’ve done” seemed wrong. To remain hidden, more humble. I heard a whisper,

Look around, this is what redeemed self-promotion looks like. Who is getting the glory?

I paused, attentive. Sun-splattered leaf, petal and pine cone, rock and dancing water–all in one voice sang a wordless hymn to their Creator. “Look at me! He made me!”

Songbird Sing

Melanie lifts her head and points her camera at shy creatures only she, with practiced eye can see. Scroll up to see one enchanting result.
Ginny gathers words, like rare herbs and wild berries, to be crushed through her pain into books of healing and hope. You can find her books here.
Lily knows mountain peaks by name and laughs with joy from hard-won summits, rehearsing beauty for earthbound ears below.

Songbirds are made to sing.

What song has been given to you to sing? Why do you hold it in, what do you fear?

Lily

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Faith

Sabbath Quiet: The First and Greatest Love

Post author By Janet Hanson
Post date August 12, 2012
No Comments on Sabbath Quiet: The First and Greatest Love

Yet I hold this against you: You have forsaken the love you had at first. ~Revelation 2:4

First Love

Let me talk very intimately and very earnestly with you about Him who is dearer than life. Do you really want to live your lives, every moment of your lives, in His Presence? Do you long for Him, crave Him?

Do you love His Presence? Does every drop of blood in your body love Him? Does every breath you draw breathe a prayer, a praise to Him?

Do you sing and dance within yourselves, as you glory in His love? Have you set yourselves to be His, and only His, walking every moment in holy obedience?

We have too long been prim and restrained. The fires of the love of God, of our love toward God, and of His love toward us, are very hot.

“Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and soul and mind and strength.” Do we really do it? Is love steadfastly directed toward God, in our minds, all day long?

Do we intersperse our work with gentle prayers and praises to Him? Do we live in the steady peace of God, a peace down at the very depths of our souls, where all strain is gone and God is already victor over the world, already victor over our weaknesses?

Are our lives unshakable, because we are clear down on bed rock, rooted and grounded in the love of God? This is the first and the greatest commandment.

Thomas R. Kelly (1893-1941), Quaker Educator. A Testament of Devotion

Photograph of Tahoe Meadows, South Lake Tahoe, CA

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Culture Faith Life

10 Habits of the Self-Absorbed

Post author By Janet Hanson
Post date August 10, 2012
12 Comments on 10 Habits of the Self-Absorbed

Love is based on trust, and it is hard to trust anyone in a culture of narcissism. ~Christopher Lasch

We weren’t made to stand alone. We weren’t created to love best our own image. We weren’t meant to sing the song of the self-absorbed, but we do, by default.

Martin Luther described original sin as our nature “deeply curved in on itself.” A professor illustrated Luther’s thought, placing a curled shaving of wood in my hand. I rolled it gently across my palm and imagined God’s grief over each tightened coil.

In 1979, Christopher Lasch described contemporary America in the title of his book, The Culture of Narcissism. His words were prophetic, written long before Twitter, Reality TV or the shrill paranoia of our time. What once was a narrow psychological diagnosis is now our marinade.

The diagnosis is not surprising–we recognize narcissism when we are targeted, we instinctively reject manipulation or contempt. But we excuse ourselves from the verdict.

Until God rolls us gently across his palm and invites us to look again.

10 Habits of the Self-Absorbed:

Demand perfection: No failure tolerated, life’s a competition.
Road rage: You deserve to be first and get the best, the world is there to serve your interests.
Take offense: All criticism avoided, disagreement must be squashed.
Crave approval: Addicted to admiration, you “fish” for your next fix.
Pity party: You feel deprived and mistreated, life is unfair.
Lack empathy: It’s not your fault if they hurt, they probably asked for it.
Helicopter parent: Your self-image lives or dies on your children’s performance.
Embrace self-importance: Your opinions are the gold standard, contempt and criticism live on the tip of your tongue.
Exploit: Lies and manipulation get you what’s wanted, others’ preferences don’t matter.
Avoid feelings: Never look close, never go deep. You may not like what you find.

I’m nailed by at least three. Those who know me well might add more. What about you? Which of these hit home? Blessed are those who can admit the truth. They’ve taken the first step toward life uncurled (Matthew 5:3).

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Faith Life

Following A New Path

Pursue some path, however narrow and crooked, in which you can walk with love and reverence. ~Henry David Thoreau

A new path. Freshly disturbed wildness stirs an unnamed longing. Open meadow, shaded, tangled woods beckon us to leave the known, the obvious, the well-travelled ways, and claim with confidence what others fear.

There is treasure to be found by those willing to leave behind the safe and familiar.

Yet the undertow of safe and familiar is not easily shaken.

The trail to Codfish Falls follows the American River for a few miles, ending at a dramatic 40 foot waterfall.

Along the way, as I navigate the twisting path–avoiding steep drop-offs to the river below–there is no evidence, no sound or sign, until the very last turn, that the path leads to anywhere I hope to be. But I don’t turn back.

Sometimes the path is the point

The Hundred Acre Cove–a New England bird sanctuary, an estuary wound with trails and wooden bridges. As soon as my children walked, the cove became a favorite adventure. Each child in turn proudly led the way–fighting back brambles and branches in seasons of unrestrained growth, eyes searching for remembered landmarks.

Some paths were easy–mower-cut swaths through meadow grass, the blue water orienting. But fainter paths often lured into dead ends, impassable swamps. We turned back, unconcerned–the following, not the ending, was the point.

You are here •

Does the metaphor hit home? Behind you is the broad road, trampled and known. Ahead is a path of sorts. Untamed, twisting, from here you can’t tell–will it open to breath-taking landscapes, or abruptly end? You look down and find your feet committed to what your heart still fears.

My feet are there too.

But I’ve forgotten the lessons of cove and codfish and am obsessed with the end. I want to know why, when and where the path will finish. I want clear reasons why the familiar must be abandoned, and a detailed map of what is ahead.

I share this with God, and he just smiles…

Are you being led into unknown territory? Are you exhilarated or afraid?

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Faith

Sabbath Quiet: Beauty Ancient And New

Post author By Janet Hanson
Post date August 5, 2012
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You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you. ~St. Augustine.

Beauty So Ancient And So New

Late have I loved you, Beauty so ancient and so new, late have I loved you!

Lo, you were within, but I outside, seeking there for you, and upon the shapely things you have made I rushed headlong, I, misshapen.

You were with me, but I was not with you.

They held me back far from you, those things which would have no being were they not in you.

You called, shouted, broke through my deafness; you flared, blazed, banished my blindness;

you lavished your fragrance, I gasped, and now I pant for you;

I tasted you, and I hunger and thirst;

you touched me, and I burned for your peace.

St. Augustine (354-430), bishop of Hippo, North Africa.

A restless wanderer from the faith of his childhood, Augustine left no pleasure or philosophy unsampled, seeking to satisfy the deep hunger of his soul. He wrote in a prayer,

Very bitter were the frustrations I endured in chasing my desires, but all the greater was your kindness in being less and less prepared to let anything other than yourself grow sweet to me.

After a long, tumultuous struggle, the young man surrendered to Beauty, to the God who never let go of him, the only one who can truly satisfy. The quoted prayers, and Augustine’s story can be found in his book, The Confessions.

Photograph taken near Soda Springs, CA by MC Hunt

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Faith Life

Love Like Jesus

Jesus modeled God’s true heart–love for the least, the last, the lost, the forgotten, the invisible. When we love people we love God. ~Kathy Escobar

How was Jesus able to love with such poise and certainty? The gospels share no hint that he hesitated, queasy with fear when he reached to touch the unlovely or alone. We don’t hear him longing for more vacation days, or a fantasy life surrounded by only low-maintenance buddies.

Jesus seemed eager for contact with the otherwise avoided, responding to the most tentative approach. Why such confidence? He knew the weight of heaven was behind him.

When we love in the name of Jesus, the full weight of heaven is behind us too–we just don’t see it. We look at our small cup of water, flickering candle, and battered broom and walk with trepidation into the pain. Only the eyes of faith reveal that we

pour water on dry despair with an ocean at our back,
shine words of wisdom with a galaxy of suns behind us,
sweep away discouragement with hurricane-force provision.

The power is not of us, the transforming work is not of us. We fly, but not with our own wings; we bring hope that originates in another; we speak life-changing words we did not supply. We contribute the heart, will and permission to be used.

Love has our back

Just one time Jesus shrugged off the weight of heaven. On the cross he bore our helplessness so we could know his power. His reminder when it was accomplished? You will love with more than your small effort. Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.

How are you being called to love in Jesus’ name? Do you know you never go alone?

Photograph of my daughter, Kimberly, loving and being loved by children near Mexicali, Mexico.

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