Upon Retreat - The Re-Opening of my Soul

This past weekend I spent 12 hours on retreat with the faculty at ISF. This was my written response for the prayer project that followed...

On retreat my soul began to open to love in a way it has not since I hit a wall several years ago. In response, I find myself retreating from these feelings in fear and uncertainty- 

I highly doubt my motives for such an opening to love. I believe that for the most part when my soul begins this opening up it will take into itself the wrong thing. 

What is this blooming that defies the dark 
and rides the wind?

In my experience this is true: the bottomless hunger that awakens within me will absorb the easiest thing within reach that appears to be safe and fulfilling, regardless of whether my judgement is actually correct. Based upon past experience, that which my soul draws in will be detrimental to my needs and desires. It is a self-destructive process with momentum; this hunger, when it does surface, is painful and full of endless longing, and it is compelling with a force that quickly becomes all its’ own. It hurts others, and it hurts me.

One dysfunctional aspect of this opening up is a desperate belief that I can rescue another person with my goodness- 

this desire to rescue another human is usually the catalyst which prompts this hunger to surface. 

What is this growing in the barren places?

In the past I believed that I could rescue another, and that they in turn would love me through a realization of my special gifts and unique spiritual powers. Now, beginning on this retreat, I felt, quite against my will, this gaping blooming which began to rise up in my soul once more. It has a voice of its’ own that suggests Love might be calling me again. I had the realization during retreat that it is a hungry reaching which has driven the story I tell- always a desire to rescue is motivated by a need for love, which leads to my unhealthy attachment to the other. 

And always, this attempt to rescue and attach to another has ended so poorly that the relationship was destroyed, my needs rejected, and I was left floating in the sea of unmet longing.

This time, however, this floating has met with a slowly dawning awareness based on experience that I still do need to be attached to someone. This is a spirit attachment, the kind that moves beyond the physical realm. And on retreat it struck me against my will- awareness that the reality of this need has not gone away. A general depression met with a remembrance- 

my soul is still capable of deep opening to another in love if given the right circumstances. 

I felt myself drawn to the people around me on this retreat who were sharing their heart and then listening to mine. I felt myself safe in the presence of authority figures who appeared to be spiritually stable and emotionally healthy. The hole in my soul which longs to share in intensive emotional bonding with another was stirred deeply. I spent the 12 hours of this retreat experiencing others share and also listen to me in ways that awoke the gnawing, gaping hunger for emotional and spiritual attachment that far exceeds the limited capacity of any human person.

In spiritual direction the following week, my director and I spoke of the progress and gift of this new awareness, but also the pain. To acknowledge these unmet needs inside of me is haunting and disturbing- to experience them hurts. 

I believe that I am called to attach to God, and that no other being on earth can offer me what I truly need in this area. It is not a need of my flesh, although it manifests itself in that manner because the spiritual will always spill over into the physical.

Where is God in this place? 

He dwells in the open places without filling them.

Oh how I long for my Lord to fill these empty spaces.

This blooming reveals a barrenness within.

Here my Lord abides.

Here I experience the frustration of realizing that He will not rush in to fill the gap. Rather, He seems to be sitting with me in it, experiencing it with me rather than fixing it. 

I have felt Him draw near to me in my unhealthy responses without doing a single thing to alter them.

I find this confusing and uncomfortable. My Lord seems to desire a dwelling within me in the broken and empty recesses of my unhealthy soul, but He seems to have no intention to begin repairing them at this time. I want Him to rush in and fill the hungry place that has awoken, or I want it to go dormant again. But I realize that I cannot force the hand of my Lord to act, and neither can I be fully human if I suppress my unmet needs. On retreat my soul opened up and howled like a lone wolf in a barren wilderness, panting beneath the moon in hurried search of a drink to slake her deep and desperate thirst.

This blooming has created a vaccume, a space between, full of need.

My God, my spirit is hungry and my soul is weak.

My desires are decrepit, weighed down by the pride of the flesh.

Sin concatenates around my human needs.

This is the opening of my soul upon retreat.

May the will of my Lord be done in me.

Amen.

The Preparation of My Soul {The Incubation of Hope}

In preparation for a 12 hour retreat with the larger ISF community-

I shall not be blown from my purpose 

by the strong winds of conflict, 

for I am fettered 

to a nest of Hope

by the strong branches of Love.

This is the preparation of my soul.

This is the incubation of hope.

The Lord has prepared a great level of fresh angst for me to explore during my upcoming 12 hour retreat. For the past few weeks much has surfaced in my heart and mind that needs the healing work of Christ- I am powerless to change the things which have arisen from the depths within me. Ugly things which are vices and rooted in sin. Things which I cannot pray away, although I often try.
In prayer now I am given a memory which is astoundingly poignant for what I am experiencing in this place- I recall a time when I was probably about 10 years old and my family visited a carnival that had come into town right against our backyard. 

For some reason I don’t remember, I decided to ride a sideways ferris wheel- it spun you around and around like a spinning top, doing both small circles individually while gyrating in one larger circle simultaneously. Nobody gave me sound advice to avoid this bad decision, which was bad because I am not a risk taker, am prone to carsickness and struggle with fear and anxiety. But for some evasive reason I decided to get on. The moment I was buckled in I had doubts, and the moment it started I felt the complete horror of utter helplessness in a situation that attacked my psychology. 

I remember screaming as loud as I could to stop the ride, but nobody heard me. Then my body went limp and I experienced utter helplessness akin to physical pain as I suffered the worst anxiety of my life for 3 minutes. When it was over I remember being totally traumatized, but I put a smile on my face because I did not want to upset my family with my needs and insecurities. So I trudged on through the rest of the carnival as if nothing at all had just happened that was even the slightest bit upsetting, while processing internally the absolute horror of that whirlwind of anxiety that was my own disturbing secret. I silently chastized myself about how stupid I was to get on that ride and avowed to never attempt anything that was even remotely similar, ever again. That experience was filed away as an unacceptable mistake and the trauma was buried quietly down into my deep. I learned to hide and I learned to protect myself- both of which are in opposition to love.

            In a similar way, I am on this ride right now- in fact, I am just getting off of it for the hundredth time and vowing never to get back on it again. I will hide! I will protect myself! But each time I vow to keep my feet firmly planted on solid ground, I eventually find myself climbing back in and getting strapped into a three minute ride that will leave me dazed and anxious for weeks to come. The repetition of this pattern is wearing on my soul in astonishing ways as I grow older and develop deeper awareness of my internal struggles and responses to the trials of life. I find myself screaming at God “make it stop, make it stop!!!” only to realize that nothing I do can stop the momentum of the trial I find myself barreling through. Eventually the only option is to become submissive and allow waves of anxiety and fear to consume my physical and mental being until the ride is over, then get off, put a smile on my face, and process the trauma internally and alone.

But what of my soul?

 While my psychology screams for someone to please turn off the trauma, what is going on inside my soul? In this time of prayer, I am reminded of an eagle’s nest that is not far from my house, where two bald eagles take turns sitting on their fragile eggs. There are any number of discomforts and trials that they face as they sit- wind, crows, cold, heat, fatigue, hunger, poky sticks and achy legs to name a few. But they just sit and sit and sit. The eggs incubate in the heat of their stillness, and their submissiveness is key to this mundane process of growth. When incredibly high winds threaten to destroy their nest, they just keep sitting. When the eggs have been unhatched for too long and are over a week late, they just keep sitting. Even if the eggs are sterile and never hatch at all, they will keep sitting until the dud eggs finally crumble from decay. As my daughter observed, “they never lose hope!” And this is true. Their identity is not in raising babies or building successful nests- 

their idenity is not in being a successful family member. 

If one nest is destroyed or the eggs are dead, they will simply try again. And again. And again. They do this by sitting. And waiting. They sit and wait without fear or doubt about their purpose, which is to be an eagle and to be willing to incubate whatever God wills to give them.

My Lord invites me into the stillness of contemplation.

And this repetitious pattern of sitting and waiting reflects in contrast against the vicious cycle of anxiety and helplessness of that relational carnival ride upon which I find myself periodically and unwittingly strapped. If perhaps my vacillating state of mind is in stark opposition to the constant incubation of my soul, if perhaps my idenity is not found in being a successful family member, then perhaps....perhaps my Lord is showing me that all is well. While my mind vacillates between solid ground and the propulsion of yet another round of harsh relational rebuke, my Lord invites me to sit and incubate a hope that will prepare me for His purposes-

I sit and wait through the discomfort of trials
because my identity is in Christ.

Even as the cold wind blows hard from the direction of relational warfare, my soul will not be shaken. No matter how many times my being is to be strapped to that scary three-minute ride, no matter how many weeks my psychology must suffer to recover from it, my soul continues to sit and sit and sit in solidarity and confidence on a nest of love in a tree of life. Despite the angst of my mind, my soul can be grounded in this one thing- even if I fail as a successful family member, my identity is in Christ. I am still an eagle and can fly to my calling and sit though all manner of trials as my Lord incubates His will beneath my wings. The eagle that is my soul will never be stopped from hoping, because that eagle is identified in the calling to be an eagle, no matter what may come. 

This is the reassurance I receive from my Lord in this time of prayer- I am not identified by my relational standing in a human family. I am identified only in Christ. Eagles are not eagles because they are successful members of a family- they are eagles because they are eagles, because that is what God made them to be. Whether they fly or sit, raise babies or fail to do so, they do not lose the hope of being eagles. Whatever comes, they are eagles. They can sit idly upon a nest, even one with dud eggs, and be completely at ease and please their Lord in their faithfulness to incubate whatever He has ordained to give them. They incubate hope.

My mind may vacillate, but my soul is steadfast in its anchoring to my Lord. As darkness rises, light rises to meet it, and the eagle keeps watch from its faithful perch where transformation incubates silently and hidden beneath the wings that were granted to it by Grace. This is the slow preparation of my soul for union with Christ, which is the calling for all of His children.

All is well, my soul. All is well.

This is the preparation of my soul.

This is the incubation of hope.

Steady as she goes.
Amen.

Reflection on the Purgation of my Soul

Prayer Project for ISF- assigned by Dr.Coe following a lecture on the Maturing of the Saints...

In prayerful reflection I have considered the season several years ago when I was filled with the Holy Spirit to a degree that far surpassed my character. I believe this is why I am now in a season where I am resigning myself to the reality that what once motivated my soul to go forward is no longer sustainable. In November of 2017, following a season of traumatizing betrayals, I received such an inpouring of spiritual inspiration and consolation that I produced an abundance of writings which expressed what was going on inside my soul. I wrote hundreds of pages of material, some which are on this blog and some which are private, all of which seemed to come from outside of myself- when I look back and read it, I can scarcely believe that persuasive abundance of written words came from me. 

My emotions long for the days of creative control.

My soul sings to the moon in the dark of night. 

That work seems now to be foreign. The writing went on for a year, taking me through 2018 and coming to a standstill in 2019. Then I ran out of steam, and the inspiration just fell away. I wrote only two pieces last year, and it has been 9 months since I last created another entry. I now seem to be in a season where God has led me to the end of my flesh- I feel generally incapable of producing anything inspired and find it difficult for my spirit to receive motivation except for quick and unexpected spikes in moments of consolation that do not last for long. What swept me into seminary like a tidal wave has since become a thin trickle that dries up now and then. Here now I stand before God with empty hands- all the fire of my soul is behind me in this season. While I firmly believe He is doing a continued work within me that is even more purgative and transformational than in the past, I now experience very little in terms of inspiration, fire or motivation. Were it not for seminary, I wonder if I would be spiritually dead. Not even church on Sunday can rouse my passions any longer, and in this I have journeyed so far from the person I was not so long ago.

There is, however, an awareness in my soul of the seeds of new purpose. As my Lord continues to purge me of my passions from the past, and to separate my true identity from my wounds, I know He prepares me to shed the old man and clothe myself with Christ. But the process is painful, and the season I find myself in today is in opposition to the desire of my senses. 

I am at a crossroads where I hunger to continue finding meaning in relational wounds of the past- because these hurts were followed by such dramatic consolation for my soul, I have begun to crave that spiritual pleasure which proceeded from emotional pain. 

But my Lord has taken away from me the brute strength and propulsion of offense, and in that vacancy I can find nothing adequate to refill my soul. I am now experiencing the insatiable and decrepit hunger of my vices- my attachments are fleeting and ever-changing, my ability to withdraw into myself entirely instinctual, my skill in distancing myself from relationship stronger than ever. 

My emotions wander like a visceral vagabond, vascillating between loyalty and rejection of relationship with my God, myself and others. 

My emotions long for the days of creative control.

My soul sings to the moon in the dark of night. 

I do realize in moments of spiritual clarity that my flesh desires the very things which make me despondent- offense, bitterness, anger, relational conflict, wounding and revenge. I long for the fruits of Egypt rather than the manna of the desert. I desire these because they make me feel alive and give me purpose and bring me the attention from God that I long for- rivers of consolation which fill me with the experience of an internal sea of living water. This is why my abundance of writing was so natural several years ago, because it was fueled by the fires of woundedness and the consolation of the Holy Spirit in response. 

Now, in the interim between offence and identity, I am called to silence, solitude and tranquility of spirit. This calling is a purgation because I long to be filled with the consolation that comes only after a piercing of the heart, and instead I am given the gentle presence of a non-anxious God who wants only to minister quietly to the empty places- He cannot do His best work if those places of my heart are full of the many things which get in the way. Here instead of passion He sends me shafts of sunlight and choruses of birds in the day, the glow of the moon and melodies of owls in the night, a rocking chair for contemplation and prayer projects for purgation.

Windchimes ride the wind 

in response to my repose.

But the wild vices of my heart long for the days when I was fueled by the fires of injustice and the consolation of the God who responded to my pain with deep inspiration. This calling now to a season of purgative stillness is one that stretches the capacity of my soul to someday receive the fruits of this despondent waiting. Here my soul must resign. Here I wait for the fresh outpouring of His hidden work within my soul.

Amen.

It Means The World To Me- John 15:19

Pneumatological Reflection, submitted to Dr.Coe for the assigned meditation upon John chapters 14-17.

“The world would love you as one of its own if you belonged to it, but you are no longer part of the world. I chose you to come out of the world so it hates you.” -John 15:19

The world has taken unexpected but important forms in my life- places where faith, hope and love should be most secure in my memories. But on my journey, these are the places where the world has ruled over my own imperfections and vices and then turned them against me. Now no one person has ever volunteered for such a position- rather, these are victims of their unawareness, knowing very little of how the world is using them to wound me in secret places of my soul. Just as the Pharisees genuinely believed that they were righteous and holy, so do these messengers of the world believe they have acted rightly. The world turns their heads so that they see my vices and believe it justifies the wounds they inflict. This has been my cross to bear, and I bear it even now- that those who represented love to me have come to represent the world from which Christ has called me to be set apart. Now I am reminded in John 17:15 that my Lord is “not asking God to take me out of the world”, and so I shall remain in this place of incredible tension. But I am also reminded that my Lord is asking God to “keep me safe from the evil one”, and so the conspiracy wrought by the world shall not prevail over me. 

But I will be misunderstood- 

indeed, my faith in Christ will be misunderstood 

for the sake of Himself and His transformative work within me. 

I myself will misunderstand His refining work in moments of desolation. 

This is to be my dark night and my dark contemplation- that my greatest humility will be in discovering my calling to be set apart from the ones I once idolized with a deficient heart. I have come to learn through my vices and failures that my loves were not love- they were idols because they were the world to me. They were, for me, avenues for the world to enter my hidden heart. To be set apart is to be humbled to my core- humbled that I can not save them, fix them, be fully loved or known by them in this way. None of this was possible because the hidden heart can only be healed by the presence of Christ over the years of a lifetime. I step back and now reflect how these idols had become the world for me. Here I must fully surrender in trust to my Lord, because I can no longer lean on those who gave me a false sense of security and identity. Those who once brought me comfort and meaning only did so because I was a participant in their ways- now that I am set apart by the maturing and awakening of my wounded spirit, I can no longer take comfort in those relationships, and in this way they are lost to me in my former manner of living. We each are on our own journey into God, and mine requires a humble admission that in my attempt to rescue those relationships I only succeeded in burning bridges. 

And I see now that bridges needed to be burned in order for my Lord to show me where the world had its hold on me and where my hidden heart was in submission to powers and principalities that were much bigger than the relationships themselves. 

I am called to lay down my weapons of desperation, fear and desire and to fly to the feet of the Lord who calls me, to be still and quiet in His presence as He administers His healing balm of humility, surrender and trust. Here I must see that the world has indeed hijacked the vices of my former loves and turned them against me. Here I also see that the enemy hijacked my own vices and used them to submit me to the world. In this reflection I can understand that silence and solitude are the only ointments that will cure the wounds of relational loss- to allow myself to become empty will prepare me to be filled. To submit to the reality of broken relationships is to submit to the work of Christ. To release the people who have betrayed me, to release them to the world to which they presently and unknowingly belong, to trust also that Christ is working to rescue them in ways that do not involved the heroic efforts of my faulty flesh. Here I must detour from the world, away from my former idols, and in this purgative contemplation I will not be betrayed by my Lord who guides me ever onward into the hope of spiritual humility and full surrender to His love.

VOX Domini {Scattered Servants} - Psalm 23

The sheep have scattered.

We are scattered servants.

Dear broken church- Wherever you go from here, know that safety comes from inside you. Carry it like a sacred treasure in your soul. Enter the world with awareness of the gifts you have inside. These gifts are the Voice of God to a broken world.

We sojourn in safe places, but we do not live there.

Vox Domini oves suas in novalibus pasturis.

The voice of God calls His sheep into new pastures.

We are all now scattered servants.

Pain is a teacher, a broken heart is a latent gift, and revival is a blessing that rises up from ashes.

Who will lead us from here?

Psalm 23.

The Lord is my shepherd;

I have followed broken men and women, which led me to my own self-destruction. My vice propensity is to follow these people still, or ones just like them. But the Lord continually invites me to follow only Him, here in this world of broken hearts and counterfeits.

I have all that I need.

I look all about me for safety, love and belonging. I am beginning to discover the great secret- these things come from within. When I enter a room, do I seek to extract all I can from the people therein, or do I come to overflow with the gifts that are inside of me? When I enter a room, do I look for what I can grasp from these people, or do I consider how I can begin to overflow as I learn from them here in this place?

He lets me rest in green meadows;

There have been places of refuge, and He allows me this rest for a season. But they are always temporary, sometimes even fantasy. No matter how much I would like to stay, these safe places have come and gone. They serve a purpose for a needed time, and then God lovingly removes them from my story in order that I can carry on with the mission. It is time to get up from our prolonged rest in safe places and walk into the world into which we carry our sacred and untouchable gifts. Go out to your calling. Do not tarry any longer.

He leads me beside peaceful streams.

I have come to know that as I walk, I can come alongside others who are also headed where I want to go. I should not follow these people, but I can walk in step beside them. My judgement can mature- I can learn to identify those whom I want to journey with. Though the safe place is preferable, the moving waters bring change and renewal in ways that safety never could. To walk beside these people who have Living Water inside them is to surrender the past and open to the future. Water under the bridge is a gift for the thirsty traveler.

He renews my strength.

I could never get up and go on to new things without Divine intervention. Though I am not asked to go this journey on my own, I am asked to travel with nothing other than open hands and a soft heart. All else He will provide because He loves me. He is full of persuasive abundance.

He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to His name.

I am bent on my own chaotic destruction. In this I fully believe. I have known my own depravity. Which is why I need Christ to take the lead. As I decrease, so He increases, and my story becomes His glory. No step towards victory can be taken without His intervention.

Even when I walk through the darkest valley,

I will not be afraid,

for You are close beside me.

There have been low points. Places and people who were my refuge and my identity have been taken away. Safety has been denied to me by people who I wanted to be safe for me. I have known a stark kind of relational bigotry. But as the fear washed over me, so did Grace. And as always, His first words are “don’t be afraid, child.” Fear can be leveraged as fuel for love if we recognize it for what it is- a sign that you are stepping into reality and out of fantasy. A sign that breakthrough is coming in haste, if only we press on.

Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me.

There has been discipline. My mistakes are legion. One cannot experience spiritual formation without seeing the brokenness of the self. I have come to recognize my false motives, my insecurities, my relational failures, my ongoing autonomy and my massive shortcomings. With the staff Jesus has smacked me into reality and with his rod he Has pulled me away from fantasy. The pain is great, but the reward is greater still. His discipline brings safety, which brings comfort, like a parent correcting the child for the sake of love.

You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies.

Because my King loves me, He vanquishes the works of my enemies.

Because He loves me, their authority has now come to an end. They will no longer abuse or neglect the sacred call to shepherd the flock.

My loving Father has called to account those who have blunderingly cut me with the mishandling of power in His name.

Yes, justice comes in due time, on His schedule and not mine. But Justice will not be leveraged as a weapon, where it then becomes fact but no longer Truth. The act of justice is reserved only for the Just King, never meant to be handled by those who follow Him. Thus I am often forced to obediently wait, against my will, for His justice to fall on the works of the unrighteous. But because He loves me, I am vindicated. And because He loves me, I am asked to dine with my enemies at the table of love and forgiveness. Thus communion is a surrender of pride and a leveling of motives. We all come ashamed and we all leave restored. My enemies are the beloved of Christ.

You honor me by anointing my head with oil.

There are experiences with Christ that cannot be captured with words. Thus I have learned to spend more time creating pieces of art in my journal and less time writing. When I am honored by the King is when I am open to seeing His beauty. If I can receive His love, He will immediately respond. But often this transaction happens without a single word. Creativity, beauty, art- the creation of honor is the pouring out of holy oil upon the open eyes and into the receptive mind.

My cup overflows with blessings.

Yes, His blessing falls on both the righteous and the unrighteous. But it can only overflow in abundance if it is multiplied by His Spirit. What are my gifts? I am learning. What are my blessings? They are the million different ways God has guided my steps on this journey. I am a sheep exposed out in open pasture, but the true Shepherd is ever beside me, pouring out His favor upon me and filling me with abundance in ways I often fail to appreciate at the time. I am learning to tune my ears to His voice so that I may hear Him call for me to drink deeply of His joy.

Drink deep of His love, scattered flock. You will need it for the journey ahead.

Surely your goodness and unfailing love

will pursue me all the days of my life,

To be pursued. This is a basic need of humanity. We ourselves do not purse love as we should. Instead we pursue temporal pleasures. We use each other, we coerce and manipulate in order to get our needs met.

We are desperate to reproduce safety around us because we don't know it comes from the Love within.

What if we lived as if love was pursuing us every day? What if we believed that goodness was chasing us down regardless of our location on the journey? Then we would not be afraid of what might be outside the four walls of our fears. Our frightened huddles would become a horizon of open courage and strength. The possibilities would be endless, if we believe goodness and love were in pursuit of our soul. We could go anywhere and be safe. We could belong in any place without changing the source of our identity.

We could scatter and serve the world.

And I will live in the house of the Lord forever.

The house of the Lord is sacred ground- both pain and blessing flow out from this place.

His house is everywhere, especially the unsafe places.

But to live there is to embrace the wholeness of this journey. I have learned that we burn brighter together. Here the Voice of God has special clarity.

On this part of the journey I have discovered a Vineyard.

A few of you have already found it too!

It came upon me quite suddenly, but with miraculous clarity. Unexpected but precisely timed. Where do I worship now? With people who are rising up from the ashes of a community that had a near-death experience, seeking to bless their city with the gifts inside them that remain untouched by the decay of the past. As they rise, I will learn from them. I sing with them as we rise up from loss- this is how I will continue to learn and grow in community. A struggling soul, like a struggling church, is ripe for the Spirit to respond, if only we would get on our knees, own our pride and enter into honest prayer.

The Lord is my shepherd and safety comes from within. So I can emerge out into the world to dine with my enemies in the presence of the King. These enemies are my beloved brothers and sisters. We dine together because I surrendered the justice to God, and He adopted us all in an act of radical love.

 No denomination, name, building or label will ever diminish that reality.

Dear broken church. The sheep have scattered. But wherever you go from here, know that safety comes from inside you. Carry it like a sacred treasure in your soul.

Vox Domini oves suas in novalibus pasturis.

The voice of God calls His sheep into new pastures.

Do not be afraid. The Shepherd is calling you. Bring your hurts and your doubts- those are gifts, too. Watch them become the tools for breakthrough.

Your identity remains unchanged, and your soul is eternally safe. Go into the world brave and free, because pain has been your teacher and Jesus is your Savior.

Run now like the wind, wild and free, and the Spirit will pursue you with the Voice of love.

Revival is coming, dear flock. 

But safety is already here, carried along inside of each one of you. It is the Voice of God.

We sojourn in safe places, but we do not live there.

You are safe from within, so venture out with your gifts.
Go as scattered servants into the world.

~Rebecca