When There Are More Questions Then Answers

 My daughter and I were enjoying dinner at Panera and delving into the theological quagmire of a good God who doesn’t keep bad things from happening.  She has an up close view into suffering through her development work on behalf of the marginalized in southeast Nepal. 

Our conversation was broader than the abject poverty she witnesses in her travels to Nepal and included the recent hurricanes that devastated parts of Texas, Florida and all of Puerto Rica as well as other islands in the Caribbean. It held her grief over the death of a dear friend’s stillborn baby. I added the earthquake in Mexico and the shooting in Las Vegas to the pile of suffering.
 

 

We wrestled with how our all-knowing, everywhere-present, all-powerful God doesn’t intervene and avert tragedy. We agreed that Trinity is relational and has given humankind free will. And we also observed how Jesus in the Scriptures trumped the effects of death, disease, birth defects, and mental illness with miraculous healings. The Bible also records that his voice calmed a tumultuous sea and multiplied a picnic lunch to feed a hungry crowd, thus demonstrating his power over nature and limitations of supply.

And we wondered….if Jesus, God with us, intervened then on behalf of the people he walked among, why does God not intervene now?

 

Distress wrenches deep places in our souls when we allow ourselves to feel the shattered lives of suffering people.

 Pain etched on the faces of those who lost.                                  

Grief shatters the countenance of mothers whose babies were crushed in fallen buildings.

 Hopelessness reflected in the eyes of women and children without resources.

Men with shoulders slumped under the weight of heartache.

Our souls assaulted with the constant fighting between nations and within nations, between people and within the hearts of people. And all the innocent ones caught in the middle.

In our anguish we bellow…..Why??? And find no solace.

 

My daughter speaks of a vulnerable God. I remember Jesus who wept at his friend’s grave and wailed over the city of Jerusalem.  How do I reconcile the reality of the suffering in the world with my belief in a good God?

Am I asking the wrong questions?

What if I ask these questions?

Who are you, God? Who are you to me?

What are you doing, God? What can I do to alleviate suffering from my place in the world?

Where are God’s fingerprints in the world, in my life?

When will God’s kingdom come? When will peace trump my need for understanding?

How is God speaking in these circumstances? How is God speaking through me?

Perhaps if I hold these questions in my heart and listen for God, I will say like Job of old, “My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.”

Perhaps……..

 

 

 

 

 

Returning Home

 

I’ve lived in several houses in my life; three in the home of my origin and five since I married my forever boyfriend. I think of a house as the physical place a person occupies and home as the people, atmosphere and culture in that space. New questions have been stirring about where home really is for me.

“Home” is a word packed with meaning dependent on experience. For me, home is a sanctuary from the demands of life. It is a nurturing space to rest and regroup. When at home, each person can explore, try and try again, grow and experience love. Home is belonging and security.

When the Preacher and I created our home we preferred order over clutter and created beauty according to our preferences and gifts. Our home culture prioritizes daily connection during family mealtime and prayers.  We trained our children with lots of physical affection, encouragement and correction sandwiched in affirmation. Respect is a core value and we nurture curiosity, responsibility and listening for God. Sometimes there is lots of talking and laughing in our home, other times companionable silence. The Preacher is a man of few words and one time our daughter was concerned I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to when she left for college.  I assured her we are comfortable with silence and simply being present, we use words when necessary.

I’ve been ruminating about the new house we want to build and the home we desire to create on our little acre of woodland. The longing is great for space to grow our hobbies and decrease the maintenance demands of a large house. The wait is hard for the documents needing signed and permissions granted. The desire is strong, yet I wonder, once we are at home in the woodland, will that quiet the longing in my heart? Or is there a spacious house, dusty and forgotten, that I have and didn’t remember I have?

 

My home with God.

The inner sanctuary I occupy with Beloved Trinity.

It too is a place for exploring and listening for the voice of God. A nurturing space where pure love envelopes all my goodness and shadows. It is where I learn the family culture of forgiveness, sacrifice, humility, grace, faithfulness…..love. In this inner haven I learn my name and my nature. It is a place where the gaze of Trinity welcomes me home wanting to hear about my day, its successes and failings, my joys and disappointments. Here as well, togetherness in silence is welcome. This home decorated with the beauty of the Trinity and Melanie, fully alive in who she is created to be.

 

This home I long for…..am I already there?

Can I imagine being so at home with God, laughing around the family table, telling Trinity how I was brave and kind today? How I failed today? Can I gladly accept my place at the table and hear my name spoken with delight and love? To come home and tell of the wonders God has shown me?

Home.

 

Front Row Seat

     

 

 

Some of you have wondered what I have been studying the past two years since I completed the certification process to be a spiritual director through Sustainable Faith. I typically encounter blank looks when I say I am a spiritual director.  Or the comment, “You mean you are a counselor?”  I am not a counselor. It is not mentoring or coaching. Let me describe what I am privileged to offer to fellow travelers on this journey called Life.

As a spiritual director I extend to people hospitality as I humbly listen to their stories with open heart and without judgment. I honor what a person brings to direction with my attention and respect. I notice their choice of words, their emotions (especially what brings the tears), their responses to life and God, and their definition and experience of God. Using Spirit prompted questions and observations, I invite individuals to look inward to name their longings, distress and fears or their joys, consolations and blessings. As they identify what is in their heart, they can respond to God. Contrary to what spiritual direction implies, I do not direct people’s lives.  You might say I “direct” a person’s attention towards God, recognizing that God is the director of each of our lives. In the hour that I meet with an individual, it is a conversation, or prayer, between three; God, the individual, and me. My responsibility is to help the person before me pay attention to their relationship with God. My relationship with God is the second most important relationship in that hour and the relationship between me and the client is the third most important relationship.

A simple definition of spiritual direction by William A Barry and William J Connelly is, “Spiritual direction proposes to help people relate personally to God, to let God relate personally to them, and to enable them to live out the consequence of that relationship.”

In spiritual direction, a person shows up in all realness and ugliness to find a sacred, safe space filled with grace. It is necessary that they bring who they are and what needs to come out. They wrestle with their disillusionment, their anger with God, their stagnant and no longer satisfying faith, their vocation, questions, relationships and disappointments. As the individual examines the raw materials of their life, they begin to recognize life’s trials are a launching pad to a more intimate relationship with Beloved Trinity. They discover that they are normal and what they are experiencing is a normal part of the journey as a Christ follower.

For me, having a front row seat to the movement of God in a person’s life is being granted the privilege of viewing miracles of transformation every time we meet. Since I embarked on this vocational change, my own heart continues to be transformed and an expanse of grace has opened for me that I never before experienced. My God has gotten bigger, my questions more numerous, and my peace with the mystery of God is deeper. God reveals and God keeps some things hidden.  That is the mystery of God. Even with unanswered questions, my experience of God reveals the character of God. I rest in the goodness and extravagant love of God. I look to the cross and I see….Love.

If receiving spiritual direction sounds like something you or a loved one might need, I would welcome the opportunity to talk to you more about it. The nature of direction lends itself best to seeing someone you do not know. If you know me, I would refer you to one of my spiritual director peers. If you are a stranger to me, I would count it a privilege to listen to your story. I meet with clients at Kavanna House, a retreat center in York, at an office in my church, New Life Fellowship, Ephrata, PA or over Skype. The first session is complimentary.

 

Love's Back

 

Little Miss M and I spent a summer morning sharing conversation, the words simple for Miss M is seventeen months old,  and playing with blocks and Mr. Potato Head. After lunch, her glassy-eyed stare and yawns indicated a nap was needed.  Upstairs in the nursery, we said good-night to the toys, turned on the fan, closed the blinds and smothered her with kisses and “Grammy loves you”. With Nuk in her mouth and her fingers stroking her curls, I place her in the crib. Immediately, Miss M stands up lamenting, her plump little arms reaching for me as I walk out the door. 

Miss M sees my back.

Downstairs, I go to work prepping for our dinner, checking email, tidying up and tending to chores. Always with an ear to the monitor, never out of range and never would I leave her for a minute. She bangs her legs on the crib, leans against the rail, flops down, gets up, and laments some more, fighting her much needed rest.  She throws her Nuk overboard and the cries become distressed. I return to the nursery, retrieve the Nuk, kiss her tousled head, tell her I love her and walk out the nursery door.

Miss M sees my back.

Moments later the cries quiet. The monitor shows my grandbaby flat on her belly and at rest.

I’ve been thinking about suffering. How we are forced to endure pain, loss, disappointments and distress. The list of causes long: broken relationships, infertility, death, disease, poverty, racism, hope deferred, a failed business and so many more.  Sufferings as unique as individuals are unique. No need to compare sufferings, thinking some harder than others to bear, because the one enduring just hurts. In our pain we might think God has abandoned us, is punishing us or perhaps, even more depressing, we just aren’t one of the favored ones.

We see God’s back.

As I remember Miss M and me, light shines through a crack in my brokenness and into my enduring heart. God does not turn away from me or our world in all of its distress. When my stomach knots over the pain in my life or yours, I see the image of Miss M at rest, safe in her crib, her Grammy at work and watching over her.  

In my questions, fears and suffering, God invites me to surrender to love and rest. All the while God works and watches over me. We are under God’s blessing and God is at work for me and you.

Two hours later a call sounds from the nursery. I bound up the stairs and see her face turned towards the door expectantly. She sees my face and her arms reach out. Scooping her up with hugs and kisses, we go downstairs.  Her hands point to the door and she says “Buzzzz”. Outside we go to watch the bees drinking nectar from the butterfly bushes and try catching elusive butterflies, wisely escaping a toddler’s hands.

I cannot explain the suffering I see and experience. Still, when the tendrils of despair curl around my soul, this invitation now follows, “Rest, dear one. God is at work in and with you.”

 

Letting Go

For years my life revolved around my family, friends, church and job. In fact, much of the first half of my life involved growing things; growing our family and our church, my competency as a community nurse, and my relationships with extended family and friends.  I also grew in my knowledge and affection for God, demonstrating my love for God by doing service for God. Serving the vision of the church. Serving people.  It was a fruitful season filled with joy and satisfaction. Mostly.

Every now and then I would experience dissatisfaction, a longing for something I couldn’t identify. I would dream of being more.  More what?  I couldn’t answer that. It was easier to identify what I didn’t want than put my finger on the itchy dissatisfaction bumping along below the surface of my consciousness.  

 

 I observed acquaintances and relatives shucking their normal lives and taking the plunge into following their dreams.  I looked in with amazement at their courage and wondered how they managed to get from the dreams in their hearts to living it out.  It looked easy, if a little risky, but the life in their eyes spoke to the adventure they were enjoying. I wondered if I would ever find the courage to step out of my comfort zone and follow my dream.

Six years ago I responded to a nudge from God and left my nursing job, trading it for increased time reading, praying and investing in relationships. I started writing.  About the same time, my husband, the Preacher, started taking his wooden bowls and vases to art shows.  Two years ago I began a training program and became a certified spiritual director and the Preacher’s daughter-in-love opened an Etsy shop for the wood creations. In all this slow journey of creating art with our lives, hands and words, the Preacher and I began to dream of a larger space to grow our art. We found some land and are wading more deeply into realizing our longings.

Following a heart longing is a slow journey involving lots of invitations to let go.  It means hanging onto the desire and letting the tears of impatience and fear flow. To create what is in my heart to do and let the results up to God; to let go of my timing and trust God’s time; to do it for an audience of a few and let go of my desire for esteem. To leave the security of what was my normal life for an adventure with unknown ending. 

We are far enough along in this adventure so that turning back isn’t an option. I have occasional meltdowns in my prayers when the doubts flood my soul. Even if I could get back to what was normal I realize I would be trading the sleepless nights of “What in the world are we doing?” for “”When will I have the courage to embrace the invitation stirring in my soul?” Both questions are disquieting.

Letting go of what is sure and safe is not easy. When I quiet myself and breathe, I connect with the spark of our dreams and experience Trinity’s assurance that all will be well.  I sense a whisper to trust the Hand that is holding us and keep walking, keep dreaming, keep creating. 

Lullabies and Love

 I’ve been reading about surrender to the Perfect Love of God.  I still don’t know how to perfectly walk out this surrender of control to God, to let God control my relationship with God, my other relationships, life, and world. It is scary to be utterly dependent on another. To say, “Have your way.”

Yet I am learning more deeply than ever that God is good.

 

I still don’t know if God will ask me to do something counter to my heart’s desire. I remember God says he gives me the desires of my heart. And I believe some of my longings are from God and part of who I am created to be.

I still don’t know how this Perfect Love works. Where does this boundless fountain of love come from? This fountain that never runs dry and loves every single breathing person on this globe. Who is this Trinity we call God, Jesus, Spirit? Can I trust this Love? This love that is for me. Will it sustain me?  Satisfy me? I get glimpses of it and taste it. When Perfect Love draws too close to the shadows in my soul, I shrink back.  Fear says, “Are you sure Trinity can be trusted?”

 

There have been God representatives in my life who tried to change me, fix me and fit me into their religious mold of uniformity.  They didn’t really see me.  This conditional love clouds my understanding of Perfect Love.

I find myself slipping into performing, into being what I think others expect me to be.  To please people is a temptation for me.  My resentment rises.  Feeling stuck follows.

I withdraw and wonder if God is like that? Will God ask of me what I can’t do? Will God ask of me that which gives me nightmares and puts me in the mold of “rightness” for that person, situation, denomination or employer?  The box that stifles my freedom to be me.  

No! It is for freedom that Christ has set me free. I am no longer a slave to culture, to religion, to patriarchy, or other people’s ideas of what I should be or do.

I still don’t know how to walk in this complete surrender, to Perfect Love, to God’s complete control. I take small steps into the expanse of grace and freedom. I remember that I don’t have to make anything happen in this life.

Then words or an experience knock me off balance. I shrink back into myself and grab the controls; back into the shadows of resentment, fears of failure and to shame over my uniqueness.

 

I hear a quiet lullaby in my soul.  It is a song that Holy Trinity sang over me before I was in my mother’s womb. It is a song of love and delight. I am invited to know myself and know God, to know God and know myself. I am invited to trust the control of my being to the One who knows who I am and loves me without boundaries.

I still don’t know how this Perfect Love of the Trinity works but I will keep listening to the song because what I have experienced is good.

 

Serenity

 

In unguarded moments, with the lightness of a feather caressing my soul, my entire being becomes alert to the goodness of life. This awareness is accompanied by acceptance of all that encompasses my life in the moment. The nanoseconds of peace are intimate, come unexpectedly, clear my perspective and stir wordless gratitude. They breeze through my soul, bathing it in light, color, music and fragrance.

It happened recently on a gorgeous spring morning talking with my neighbor after a brisk walk. As we were chatting, I was simultaneously aware, in the depths of my being, that life is holy and good. Sometimes it touches me when my hands are in the earth, pulling weeds and removing spent blossoms.  Another time this consciousness came out of the shadows was when watching glistening water droplets dancing with the emerging hatch on a mountain stream, warm sun on my back and my love beside me.

I wish I could make these honeyed moments happen. I receive them as gifts from God and savor each occurrence.

I notice these graces show up in the quiet, unhurried days of my life. The days that start with a rested body and stillness in prayer are the days they are more likely to occur. Sometimes, in the midst of demanding scheduling, if I pause, breathe and pay attention to my blessings, I might sense a light grace touch my soul.  Other times, it is the breath and pause that brings refreshment.

What I can do to open myself to these graces God gifts me is protect my life from living at a high speed of constant demands and stress.  I choose, sometimes better than other times, to align my life with what I value:

-time for listening to God and my people,

-a simpler lifestyle,

-contentment with less, believing I have enough,

-resting even if unfinished with a task,

-letting go of needing to have everything perfect,

-playing and being creative,

-spending time in the outdoors and

-allowing time to putter and think.

 

I wonder if this is what the man and woman experienced in the first Garden in Time; when Time began and there was time for everything. No hurrying. No deadlines. Walking with the Holy Presence and being fully present. All was perfection and goodness and soaking in the extravagant love of the Beloved Trinity.

This is what I imagine when I experience the crystal clear stillness of deep-souled knowing that all is very well.