Transitions

For some the new year begins with a bang - corks exploding from champagne bottles, fireworks, and boisterous laughter. For others the new year begins with something more low key - a quiet evening at home with the family, games with the children, or a night at the movies. Not so for me. For me, the new year begins with a hard look at my stuff.

I mean that quite literally. I am moving.

I am leaving a job of ten years, at an organization for which I've worked twenty years, and from an apartment in which I've lived seventeen years, to begin life anew in a different city. I am not leaving because I found a better job. I haven't found a job. I am leaving because I have come to a place of transition.

My priorities have changed. My needs and wants have changed.

I climbed the corporate ladder, albeit in a niche industry, and made it very close to the top. I spent the last ten years as the assistant to a vice president of a 501(c)3 organization. I know what it's like to carry a lot of responsibility, have authority, and interact with people whose names are recognizable. I know what it's like to have to step up and make decisions that need to be made in a very timely manner. I know what it's like to know things before others. I know how impressive it can seem.

I no longer want that life.

I am fortunate to have a community into whom I can lean as I search for the life I want. I have been assured that, even in a new city with no job, I will have a home for as long as I need to become reintroduced to the life of my deep heart. I have heard some murmurs of what that life might look like but those are still whispers.

I expect those whispers to grow into a clear voice as I transition into my new life. 

Twenty years in one place is a long time. It's a lifetime. Or half a lifetime. It will be interesting to see what this next year, not to mention the next twenty, holds.

Happy New Year!!

Does It Matter?

"It doesn't matter."

How many times have I said that to myself when dealing with a painful situation? It's as though I minimize what was said or done simply so that I can make myself move forward in strength and maintain some sort of dignity in the process. Really, more than dignity, I want my power back.

In a way, saying "it doesn't matter" is like saying that the person(s) who hurt me don't matter enough in my personal world to be able to get to me ever again. It's a way of hardening the heart and devaluing the other, so that I have a kind of power over them inasmuch as it removes from them the ability to approach my heart.

Never again will the arrows of their words penetrate the armor I've placed around my heart. I will immerse my inner being in kevlar. I will make myself bulletproof. Becaues I have made myself bulletproof, it doesn't matter what is said or done by anyone else. They can't get to me ever again.

 That's the thinking. It may not even be conscious thinking, but that's what's going on internally.  And I am fairly certain that I'm not the only person who has this sort of self-talk.  I daresay there are many of us who chant the "it doesn't matter" refrain in the hopes of eliminating heartache.

Reality is that it does matter. They do matter. If that were not the case then we wouldn't hurt.

Eldredge has this to say:

We must forgive those who hurt us. The reason is simple: Bitterness and unforgiveness are claws that set their hooks deep in our hearts; they are chains that keep us held captive to the wounds and the messages of those wounds. Until you forgive, you remain their prisoner. Paul warns us that unforgiveness and bitterness can wreck our lives and the lives of others (Eph. 4:31; Heb. 12:15). We have to let them go.

Forgive as Christ has forgiven you. (Col 3:13)

Now - listen carefully. Forgiveness is a choice. It is not a feeling - don't try and feel forgiving. It is an act of the will. "Don't wait to forgive until you feel like forgiving," wrote Neil Anderson. "You will never get there. Feelings take time to heal after the choice to forgive is made . . ." We allow God to bring the hurt up from our past, for "if your forgiveness doesn't visit the emotional core of your life, it will be incomplete." We acknowledge that it hurt, that it mattered, and we choose to extend forgiveness to our father, our mother, those who hurt us. This is not saying, "It didn't really matter"; it is not saying, "I probably deserved part of it anyway." Forgiveness says, "It was wrong. Very wrong. It mattered, hurt me deeply. And I release you. I give you to God."  (Captivating, 102-103)

Do you see what he said?  "It was wrong. Very wrong. It mattered, hurt me deeply."

What difference would it make in our lives if we actually believed that? If we actually believed that our hurts, our heartaches, matter? Not just because we feel them but because of something else.  Something that speaks of value. My value. Your value. Their value.

Because there is something true there, too...

Nature Girl Makes An Appearance

This past weekend I "car camped" for the first time out on the property of a friend's parents. I'm fairly unknowledgeable about camping, so the best I can figure out is that the difference between "car camping" and "camping" is the distance you drive in relation to the distance you walk/hike and haul gear.  I think, and I could be wrong here, that "car camping" means you don't have to hike and haul gear far from where you park.

We did all the fun camping things - bon fire, s'mores, music.  It was a special occasion for me, so I bought a tent and a sleeping bag and let my inner nature girl show up.  She hasn't been out since...well, I don't remember how long it has been.  I think, actually, this was a first.

I enjoyed the experience, even though I didn't sleep more than a couple of hours that night, and would like to do it again.  I'm grateful that I got to experience this with such a cool group of people.   

Here is a picture of everyone who camped:

 

An Experience

My friend Karin has been asking me to blog about an experience I had recently. She was there when it happened and, I suppose, wants my perspective on it.


I am still processing through what happened that evening in Cedar Hill. I'm not going to lie and say it's all "Oooh! Aaah! Wow!" because that's a land I might visit but I've never learned to comfortably homestead there.


As part of my processing, I emailed my friend Brian and asked if he'd help me by picking my brain. Uber-busy dude that he is, he indicated he had a short window of opportunity for us to talk (to me, 30-minutes is short) so I emailed him with what I remembered from that evening.


I included my own deeply internal responses/reactions to what was happening at the time, many of which do not make me happy because they're indicative of some still existing brokenness and trust issues. If you've read previous posts on my blog, then you know that I've trod some pretty dark territory.


Having said all of that, here is a slightly modified version of the email I sent to Brian:


Let me preface the following with this: I have a pretty vivid imagination so I doubt, a lot, when stuff like this happens to me. It could just be wishful thinking, or stepping back into living in my imagination (which I did as a kid as a survival mechanism). I don't doubt that God speaks to people, and that He tells them wonderful things or shows them wonderful things about themselves. I doubt that He does that with me. That's my damage showing up. Stuff for someone else, that's business and usually fairly easy to do. Stuff for me, that's personal and another matter entirely.


So...


Thursday night the only thing that showed up for me was a really, REALLY powerful longing to go home. To just be somewhere other than this life, somewhere that love and warmth and laughter and goodness and all of those things that have been a void in my life, or an illusion, are real and solid and true. JESUS! I! WANT! TO!COME! HOME! Please...please, can I come home?


Notched that down really quickly, paid attention to Benny Perez, and got to see God electrify Renee. Posted that on FB, drove home, texted you and talked to Annette about what happened with Renee.


Friday, I had already decided I needed to be there but when Karin called me and told me that Jake Hamilton (who she and Renee had mentioned to me the previous evening as someone they knew I'd really like) was going to be leading worship I made a point of being there. We were on the front row, at the steps to the stage. I got to let loose my inner rocker chick with some yelling wide-stanced fist pumping action. It was awesome!!!


Then...


The song was about being on our faces before God and asking for His glory to come down. I knelt at the steps, face down and palms up, and sang and prayed - English and tongues - with tears starting and I had a vision. I saw the hem of His robe and his feet right before my eyes. I thought I was imagining things, shook my head and opened my eyes. Then back to having my eyes closed in prayer. Cut to black. Then, again, the hem of His robe and his feet right there. He leaned down and put his hand on my head and said, "stand up."


I stood.


Hands up, eyes closed, still singing about God's glory. Slightly rocking from side to side. I had the sense that I needed to wash my face - not literally, but symbolically - as though there were a waterfall and I let it stream into my cupped hands and poured the water from my hands over my face. So that's what I did, then back to palms up in worship. Someone put a hand on my shoulder (found out later it was Karin) . Then Tracy wrapped her arms around me, crying (I think). Then Renee joined this embrace and I could hear her say how God delights in my heart (which I had/have a hard time receiving because nobody delights in my heart, ever).


I'm unsure of the order that things happened at this point.


I would swear that Jake Hamilton started singing prophetically and that he was singing prophetically to me. There's a lot that was in what he sang that's just out of reach of what I recall.


But I definitely recall hearing "you don't have to protect yourself anymore."


I don't know whether that happened before or after the next vision. I want to say after.


So...back to the scene of me held by Tracy and Renee...


I see a desert sunrise, and the silhouette of man - Jesus - striding across the desert. The colors are white and amber and gold, so rich and shimmering, and the stride is focused and intentional. I shake my head, because I do have a vivid imagination. Cut to black. Then the vision again. A huge desert sun rising, waves of white and gold and amber shimmering in a lightening sky, Jesus in silhouette striding toward me. I think I hear, "I'm coming for you," but I'm not sure because nobody comes for me, nobody pursues me, ever. Such a thing is unheard of in all creation - that someone would come for me.

I have three almost simultaneous responses to this: 1) "Bring it. Do your worst," 2) "Crap. This is going to hurt," and 3) "Yipes!" because I don't know what it means and it's hard for me to accept how it could be anything other than painful. I'm not happy with myself for these responses. I don't like that they're there.


When I hear "you don't have to protect yourself anymore" something inside broke and I had a moment of heaving sobs. Only a moment, though.


Then everything eases, Tracy and Renee step back, the set is over and I turn to discover two boys - one is about 10 and the other about 13 - right behind me, crying, and Tracy and Renee and Karin pray over them and call out their gifts and calling in God. I joined in the prayer, but wondered about them because they were right there. Karin told me later they'd been praying for me, too.


So, we sit and listen to Banning Liebscher talk about having sustained passion for Christ. He talks about how it's become about having information and says that in order for us to have that sustained fire we need revelation. We need revelation that He loves us first so that we can respond by loving Him back. This really speaks to me because I have a lot of information - I've worked for God for 20 years, and my relationship had become almost strictly business. What I've lacked is the revelation that makes it personal. So this message is for me as much as any message is for one person. After he talks he gives an altar call and I go forward.


At the front, by the steps, again...


I feel the power of the Spirit come down. Tracy, who is standing next to me, goes down. The Spirit hovers over me. I feel the potential to go down, but He asks if this is what I want. I was surprised by the question and asked Him and myself, "do I?" only to find that I didn't. I don't need the dramatic experience to show me that it's real. I've had that. Been there on more than one occasion. What my heart is starved for is the warmth. I tell Him that I want warmth. I want the warm embrace. I want what I've never had. At least what I don't remember ever having. I feel this sense of "Aaaahhh..." come over me. Like how I would imagine it feels to lean into someone and just rest against that person. I don't know for sure, though. I don't have the real world experiences that allow me to connect the dots. I don't know, not really, what it's like to be held - safely, with strength and goodness, by someone I can just lean into. I've been embraced with the mutual comfort type of embrace. I know what that's like. But I don't know what it's like to actually lean into someone strong and safe, whose heart is genuinely for me and whose love is real. So, I can only guess at what it feels like.


Then that lifts and I turn my attention to standing guard over Tracy because she's still on the ground, surrounded by people who almost step on her, until she sits up and gets to her feet. Everything normalizes.


That's my experience.


I'm still processing it. I have a lot of questions - mostly variations of "Why?" and "What does it mean?" because, truth be told, I don't get it. I mean, I get that the experience was real and something I obviously needed, but I don't necessarily see the point. That's one of the "Why?" questions.


And maybe, just maybe, I'm trying to wrap my head around something that's supposed to be understood at the heart level.


That's another question in itself...


7/2/2010 - NOTE: As I've pondered this experience, in particular the sunrise vision of Jesus coming for me, a particular scripture has appeared on my radar. Malachi 4:2. It says: “But for you who fear my name, the Sun of Righteousness will rise with healing in his wings. And you will go free, leaping with joy like calves let out to pasture."

I can't help but think there might be a connection...