Archive for the ‘hope’ Category

KATHY - thin places: validation

Monday, November 30th, 2009


God of the watching ones, the waiting ones, the slow and suffering ones, give us your benediction, your good word for our souls, that we may rest.
- celtic advent blessing

this past saturday we entered into the season of “advent” in preparation for Christ’s birth.  for those not as familiar with church-y terms, advent is the season of expectation, waiting, and hoping–all leading up to Christmas.  this year at the refuge we will be following our advent tradition by using urban skye’s advent guide to bind this month together.  this year the four weeks are focused on the celtic tradition; it’s called “thin places.”   thin places are certain places where the distance between the human and the Divine feel particularly thin, where God feels near.

God touches us in all kinds of mysterious ways.  one tangible way God’s spirit moves is through people–through the touch and  love of an “anam cara”, which is the celtic word for “soul friend.”  the passage this week from luke 1:39-45 focuses on mary, the mother of Jesus, and her interaction with her cousin elizabeth, who is the mother of john the baptist.  they share a special bond, a connection.  elizabeth validated mary in a moment she really needed it.  the Bible doesn’t go into all the ins and outs of the relationship, but what rises is to the surface is that God touched  mary through elizabeth.

this season is especially difficult for so many.  lack of money, health, jobs, family are just a few of the reasons some dread this holiday.   but  here’s my hope for all of us–let’s intentionally strip away all of the man-made trappings of Christmas and focus not on what isn’t, but what is.  to recall the beauty & mystery of the Jesus story–who came not as a powerful king but as a homeless baby in a dingy manger.  that the “incarnation”–God made flesh–is real.  available.  now.   through each other.

so this advent i hope we can cling to slivers of hope–the small, mysterious, sometimes almost imperceptible ways God is trying to show us love, hope, and peace in the midst of our circumstance.  may we somehow experience a “thin place”–an intersection with God, an outburst of peace & hope, no matter how big or small.

and in the spirit of week one’s conversation, may we notice God speaking to us through people, through “anam caras”–soul friends.   touching us through the unexpected phone call, the loving hug, prayers, the kind words, some tangible presence in a weird unexpected moment.

may we notice.  may we let good in.  may we receive.  may we give.  may we have hope.

i’ll close with the prayer that wrapped up our saturday evening together–it’s a friendship blessing written by john o’donohue:

may you blessed with good friends.
may you learn to be a good friend yourself.
may you be brought into the real passion, kinship, and affinity of belonging.

may they bring you all the blessings, challenges, truth, and light that you need for your journey.  amen.

Posted in advent, hope, kathy | 3 Comments »

MIKE - where’s the doctor?

Monday, October 12th, 2009

this past saturday at the refuge we talked about how faith and doubt can exist in the same situation. it’s a little like the optical illusion images that most of us have seen, the one where you either see a vase or the profile of two people looking at each other. it just depends how we look at the picture/situation. we tend to vacillate back and forth, but we never seem to be able to focus on one or the other for a long period of time.

my brother worked in a hospital when he was in high school. as a janitor, he cleaned the bloody mess after the operations. my dad also told of his experience in world war II. because he signed a form saying he wanted to major in medicine when he went to college, this 18 year old, wet behind the ears, small town boy, was made a medic. he didn’t have a rifle to defend himself with. just a cross on his back which, according to the geneva convention, meant he was off limits to shoot. he thought it sometimes seemed like a target for the enemy to shot at. training was minimal. the best thing a medic had were the packs of morphine to stop the patients’ pain. dad often mused that he didn’t know how many men he helped or how many he killed with the morphine,  he did the best he could.

recently, a safe haven for me has felt like a battlefield. many good people are suffering such traumatic experiences that i had been feeling bad that i seemed to be the only one left standing. that all shifted in late september when i and hundreds of good people were informed that we would probably have no jobs in 2 months. not feeling sorry for myself was pretty easy. i’m in pretty good shape despite my lack of using sound financial processes most of my life. but it will impact my time and my ability to live as i’m accustomed.  the day after receiving this news, i awakened to a text from a friend that i hoped would never come, but i knew in my heart was fairly certain was unavoidable. it simply said: she did commit suicide. my friend and i, both bleeding now, sat crying at starbucks. the tears fell all day until there were no more. my heart breaks for precious friends.

oh, if i could help them. but i’m like my little brother. not a nurse. not a doctor. just a janitor, cleaning up the blood. like my dad giving morphine to stop the pain. waiting for a doctor to come.

that same week i went to a house of refuge hoping to get some love (tourniquets is what i call it for it stops the bleeding) and hope (that would be the morphine that stops the pain.)  the pharmacist there handed out tourniquets and morphine to each of us. i picked up a little more from my friends and left. driving home it  dawned on me that she didn’t get either. i knew i needed to share my hope/morphine with her the next time i saw her.

i took some before i went to bed and things seemed better. when i awoke, as is my habit i checked my e-mail. when i saw a certain name i knew something was wrong. as i opened it up, blood gushed from my computer. the pain poured out of massive wounds. i look around, and the morphine was gone. i’d used some last night, but not all of it. the enemy had taken it while i slept, and there was none to give her.

driving to work that day i knew i needed some God. i was fresh out. as i walked from my car, into the store where i worked,  i was amazed how,  in one day, a place could go from a grocery store to a mortuary. a place of death of dreams. more people bleeding.

i have to leave. i need healing. my friends need healing.  now, i sit in the emergency room. i’m feeling tired and overwhelmed.  but i keep putting dirty tourniquets on and try to tighten others while i look for more morphine. i hear a voice that sounds faintly like mine. it says. “if the Great Physician in in the hospital, would He please come to the emergency room.” i really hope He’s on His way, but sometimes i’m beginning to doubt it.

but then i get these little glimpses that maybe the Doctor really is on His way.  i remember seeing the notes posted on the bulletin board, thanking Him for the care He gave. and then i see a recovery room that is full of healing patients, ready to be discharged.  and i hear the charge nurse say; “He has come here every day since this hospital was built. He just doesn’t seem to be on the same schedule as the rest of us.”

i am betting the Doctor will show up.  He somehow always seems to in the end.  at least that is what i believe right now.

Posted in community, healing, hope, mike | 1 Comment »

a metaphor for us

Monday, April 20th, 2009

cupcake with candlesthe refuge is 3 years old!   it’s hard to believe that 3 years have passed & against all odds the refuge is alive and well.  as we celebrate what God has done and what we hope for in our future, take a look at this powerful clip that we think is the best picture of not just the refuge community but the upside down ways of the kingdom of God, beauty & glory in the least likely of places.

·         check it out here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

what does this stir up in you?

Posted in hope, identity, the refuge | 2 Comments »

an evening of hope

Monday, February 16th, 2009

post it noteslast sunday, february 8th, we had an evening of reflective stations to wrap up our series on hope.  it was a beautiful evening of hope & connecting with God in all kinds of ways.  several of the stations had questions about hope. here are some of the collective responses:

What causes you to lose hope??

When something goes wrong
Looking at me. Focusing on my stuff
Human forgetfulness
When I take my eyes off Jesus
That I am not forgiven
Feeling isolated and overwhelmed
When circumstances don’t change and I pray and pray
Forgetting I’m just a small part of a big beautiful picture
Circumstance after circumstance going awry, going awry going awry
Fear
Life circumstances
Circumstances, bad luck, other people
Depression, The past (at least the ugly parts), struggle without relief
Time
Death

What does hope look like?

A child’s laugh
A baby’s laugh
Others willing to listen
It looks like a ray of sunshine piercing acloudy sky
The kingdom is real and present
A strong urge inside to perpetuate anything good
It looks like a smile, a smooth easy path
Like an unexpected phone call, someone wondering how I’m doing out of the blue
My daughter that is her middle name
It looks like a hug
“The love that fills my heart after forgiveness”
A way through the desert
Friendships

Where does hope start?

It’s like a light at the end of  a dark tunnel
The rock–God
Hope begins when any journey begins
In the beginning God
I think it starts in unexpected and different ways. Sometimes inside and sometimes outside. Always God.
At the bottom
Something unexpected
Smiling eyes
No fear rather being confident in what I’m doing and God has my back
With a ray of God’s presence in your life at that moment of despair
God uses friends and a word to light the fire of hope
Hope starts with introspection and maybe analyzing God’s goodness and faithfulness
Honest safe friends
Belonging in something that is bigger than me
Hope starts with Jesus
With a conversation with a safe person that later may turn into talking with God
A tree full of crisp, sweet apples, just ready to be eaten
One more step one more breath one day closer to heaven
Waking up

When hope is lost, how can it be regained?

Crying out to Jesus
In everything with praise and thanksgiving.  God know your needs
By asking safe people to remind me of what is good
Ask a safe person. Ask God. Ask and it will be given seek and you will find
Reaching out and letting others know your feelings
By crying myself to sleep and asking God questions and being still
Staying in community   The Bible
Through the eyes of community
Never ending? looking away from ands toward God, like Mack did in The Shack book. Community with Safe real people on the way
Consciously seeking glimpses of God
Looking to the word of God and praying
Spend time with God and in prayer and in His word
By looking to the Author of Hope-Jesus
Making a decision to receive hope by remembering
I’m still working on this one
Staying in and crying out

After communion, here are some things people wrote on stones about how they were feeling:
peace    hope    solace    weak    despair    healing    Jesus    loved    fear    new puppy    comfort    grace and love    cherished    very grateful    ok together    reserved hope    love is the key    my hope is his blood flowing in me    freedom    thankful for grace from my friends    willing    wanting real bread    total    immersion in Jesus    there is hope    not alone

thank you, God, for your Hope.



Posted in community, dreams, hope, karl, kathy, the refuge, theology | No Comments »

LISA - Hope Can Be A $@*&#?!

Monday, February 9th, 2009

water and rocksIt was late June. I had just finished a peaceful hike along Clear Creek. Twilight dawned. I sat down on a picnic table in Lion’s park. I felt pretty good and decided to give my mother a call. What I really wanted to talk to her about was the cryptic e-mail my ex-husband had sent to me the night before.

It was kind of an awkward transition to the topic. Ever since my ex had cut off contact with me in March 2007, my family avoided talking about him with me. It was like someone had died, but nobody would talk about it. If I brought him up in a conversation, they glossed over my mention and continued down a different thread.

But this night, I talked about him and received a response. My mother told me the news: He had gotten himself engaged. I felt like someone sucking air away from my lungs. I think it was just that I really didn’t want to cry and the body doesn’t like to be stopped in it’s natural response. I can’t think of a time when I was ever so shocked. I tried to continue the conversation, but eventually gave up. I was devastated to some degree and simply pissed off beyond measure on the remaining degrees.

That weekend was rough, but I managed to get through it. My anger sustained me. My grief sustained me. My mother’s worried calls of concern sustained me. What was really difficult to swallow was why anyone would think that I would want to hear that my ex-husband was engaged. I called my friend Marcia on Monday. She had called the week before, but didn’t deliver the news. She simply said on my voice mail, “we need to talk”. Now it all made sense.

When I called her on Monday the first thing out of my mouth was, “I know.
“I didn’t need to know”, I said. “And just for future reference if anyone needs to know, it’s not me. I don’t need to know what happens in his life anymore. I don’t need to know if he follows through with marriage. I don’t need to know if he has children. I just don’t need to know. I won’t hold it against anyone if they do know, but do not tell me.”

With the announcement of his engagement, I knew that hope for him and me had come to an end.

“In a way it’s a good thing,” I told Marcia. “Now I know that there really is no more hope. Now I can move on.”

And then, Marcia said something that struck me as oddly profound.
“Yeah,” she said. “Sometimes hope can be a real bitch”.

It’s true. Sometimes hope can be a huge road block to moving on. I am an idealist by nature and pretty much think that all stories should have a happy ending. Not every chapter of life has a happy ending. Sometimes the ending is sad. But thankfully there is always a new beginning. The new beginning is where hope can re-enter the picture. Not for the way things were or the way I had hoped them to be. But for the next stage in my life and the new choices I can make.

Posted in hope, lisa | 3 Comments »

TAMI -Some Thoughts on Hope

Monday, February 2nd, 2009

hope armband

“The hope of the afflicted shall never perish”
- Psalm 9:18

The Refuge did a short interview on Hope with Tami. Here are some of her thoughts:

how would you describe where you are in your life when it comes to hope?  are you feeling a little of it?  a lot of it?  why?

I feel a little of it.  Hope is one of those things that has a life of its own for me. Hope doesn’t depend on any one person to need it, make it, conjure it up, give it to others (though lending hope is totally do-able), or anything, …  it is already within each of us, a God-given enigma to live and survive without losing any part of ourselves.  It’s nice this way, because its existence doesn’t matter at all whether or not we feel it. If there is one miniscule bit of it anywhere to be found in us, it will bust out of the darkest places in infinite quantities to get us from one dark place to something human, even if for just a moment. Very frequently this is brought about in the context of community, through another person who takes a moment to just qualify the fact that another person is living, breathing, valuable, and hurting in that moment.  And a moment is everything when we humans are suffering–  and so hope is our last, best, only line of defense against darkness.  Good thing it doesn’t depend on us…

when you think of the word hope, what do you think of?

I think of one of the most uncontrollable, powerful forces of the universe.

what makes you afraid to hope?

Some of my experience tells me that things really can and will get bad– the floor does fall through. And then comes the fear that the lies are true–that God might leave me alone to die there.

what brings you hope?

Others who know my struggle and weaknesses, but who still know and can still see who I really am, even through seeing me at my worst, and then remind me, help me, get my bearings straight again so I can move on without condemnation for where I just was.  Moving forward, being able to bounce back with the truth of some good.

how have you “borrowed hope” from others?  what difference has that made in your life?

Borrowing hope is like the fastrack out of despair. Hope already exists and will find everyone somehow in moments, but when borrowing hope, both parties have to choose to do this.  Borrowing hope simply means letting my guard down just long enough to let another person give me a quick glimpse of something good that makes it worth getting to the next moment and letting all the possibilities take hold.  Mind you, it is HARD to let it happen when I’m in the midst of darkness. But it’s a lot like an opportunistic infection–  the moment it finds the right place, then is exposed to spread in an environment that’s made to grow that infection…  it spreads like wildfire, which is why I say that only God can have anything to do with it.  Humans just aren’t able to do this stuff…only to let it happen.

there’s no way to define the mystery of “hope” but what are some ways God tends to bring some of it to you?  what does that look like, feel like, taste like?

It’s something good and true that sets off that thing God put in me, so I can make it a little longer through the darkness.  For me it’s a hug or someone who knows me telling me the truth about my identity when I’m confused there, or that weird feeling behind my cheekbones that I get when I really cry hard and nobody is mad at me for doing so.  Or that relaxation and warmth of being able to just be still and lie there without a fight and grieve— to freely be able to feel and know it won’t hurt my chances for a spot in heaven or in a loved one’s life.

what would you say right now to someone who’s feeling hopeless?

What you feel is just fine, and I don’t want you to stop it.  I can see you even through all the dark you feel.  I’m perfectly fine with you being here and you’re worth staying with through it.

what would you say right now to someone who’s feeling hopeful?

Cool.  Relish it, grow it, and hold that thought—you, or someone else. will need it later.

Posted in community, healing, hope, tami | 1 Comment »

DOUG - Hope in the Wasteland

Monday, January 26th, 2009

plant in cracked earth
Today I live in the wasteland.
This was not always the case.

There was a time that I had a good, well paying, job as a scientific resource manager. I lived in a nice house in the suburbs. The large backyard opened on open space and was landscaped with beautiful trees. The view was bucolic and restful. I had a wife and two of the best young stepsons you could wish for. We seemed to end up either in Hawaii or the beaches of Southern California at least once a year. I was well respected at my church and considered a lay leader on the path to ordained ministry.
And I was clinically depressed and suffered from anxiety disorder. I was taking SSRIs, bourbon, and therapy in regular doses.

Today I have lost all these things; but, most importantly, I have lost the need for the meds and therapy. (I’ve kept the bourbon. I haven’t achieved Christian Perfection quite yet.)

One thing I have gained is a small measure of hope.

I live in a 1950s trailer with a roommate and often his two kids. I have a near minimum wage job and live paycheck to paycheck. Our landlady wants to raise our rent 80%, which we can’t afford. The chances of a beach holiday are a joke. It’s snowing and cold right now. My married life, family (All my family is dead or estranged from me, the black sheep loser),  and future ordained ministry is ancient history. I cook meals provided by foodstuff from the food bank. And yet I have been released from therapy and I do not need meds for anxiety and depression.

As to hope, the real hope that has been a part of my freedom from depression and anxiety, I have learned one thing and that one thing have helped save my life.

Hope is not about me.

I was a slave to my desires. I desired an important and well-paid job, a wife, a nice home, recognition as a spiritual leader and a secure future. This was all about me. There was no hope there. Hope is not about what we desire but what God wishes for us and God seems to offer His hope through relationship and community.

I finally found hope where I didn’t expect it. I first touched hope in people who took me in when I was homeless. I tasted hope in a brother who helped me find a job when I had nothing. I started to understand hope when I saw God working through others and me in community. A friend called me, his neighbors had been evicted and their life was being carried to the sidewalk by the sheriff. One phone call to another friend and their things were moved to a storage unit, they were offered another way than homelessness. Friends of mine have an autistic child. I have been able to suggest some new venues to lobby, in our state, for more help for families with autistic children. In these and other efforts I have been a small part. But, each time, I have been blessed to see hope in the eyes of my brothers and sisters.

Hope is not about me and what I desire. It’s about God working in my life. It seems that this hope is always in relationship and community. It’s not about getting what I want, be it gross or sublime, but about seeing God’s hand in my life as I relate to my brothers and sisters.

Jesus promised us freedom from slavery to this world. What’s always confused me is that we live in a free country. We can buy a nice house and car, we can take vacations of our dreams, we can raise a nice family in peace… I’ve always wondered what Jesus was talking about. What’s this ‘lilies of the field’ stuff, and why am I clinically depressed and suffer from anxiety?

Real hope and real freedom comes from God. When you see the Holy Spirit working through you. When you see hope through your brothers and sisters. When you give up trying to do it yourself. You may be living in the wasteland, but you are as free as those lilies; no need of SSRIs and therapists.

Posted in Doug, body of Christ, hope | 4 Comments »

DREW - O Prisoners of Hope

Monday, January 19th, 2009

light at the top of stairsI have had the pleasure of sharing my life over the last 2 years with some very special people who have touched my heart and my life in so many ways.  As I begin to write I write with them in mind and the tremendous amount of hope that they have given me over these last two years and the courage to finish a race that at times simply seems to daunting and confusing to continue to run.  It’s their own stories of hope and love that spurs me on.  If you are reading this blog you are most likely one of those people or connected to us in some manner as the Body of Christ, thank you.

When I was asked to write about hope it didn’t take long before Zechariah 9:12 ran through my head.  I don’t mean to imply that I might be a biblical scholar with an extensive liturgical scholarship in theology because I am far from that and trust me that is a good thing for your sake and I am convinced for mine as well, however, I did ask the Holy Spirit why he or she reminded me of a verse that was likely drilled into my head by a earthly father with every good intention that his son might know love of God.  So let me share a little bit with you about what the Holy Spirit has shared with me and then we can let the games begin.

So you can get the context:

“11 As for you, because of the blood of my covenant with you, I will free your prisoners from the waterless pit. 12 Return to your fortress, O prisoners of hope; even now I announce that I will restore twice as much to you. 13 I will bend Judah as I bend my bow and fill it with Ephraim.  I will rouse your sons, O Zion, against your sons, O Greece, and make you like a warrior’s sword.” Zechariah 9:11-13 (NIV)

I love these verses partially because I am a sucker for poetry but beyond the beautifully written word and poetic prose lies a deeper meaning that stirs the ancient areas of my heart.  Zechariah was one of the minor prophets and it is no wonder that he used the phrase “O prisoners of hope.” His ministry to the nation of Israel was during their exile back from Babylonian captivity to rebuild Israel and the temple that the Babylonians had destroyed.  It’s no wonder that the meaning behind his name meant “The Lord Remembers”. How appropriate that The Lord (Yahweh) is the the covenant name of God and is an everlasting testimony of faithfulness to his children whom he never forgets and always Remembers.  Zechariah along with his fellow countrymen have lived in the confines of the Babylonian Empire under the leadership of Nebuchadnezzar forced to worship false gods. Later the Israelites were released to freedom and back to their homeland after Cyrus the Great of Persia conquers the Babylonians and then on top of it all he writes a decree to allow them to live out their faith in freedom and rebuild the temple.  Cyrus encouraged them to proceed and so they started to establish the foundation of the new temple and it seemed like everything was going great and then all of the sudden the Samaritans want to get involved in the building process and the Israelites told them to butt out. Well, the long and short of it was the Samaritans got their feelings hurt and their panties all in a wad and started spreading lies about the possible Israelite rebellion that would result due to the resurrection of the temple.  The powers to be got wind of this and shut it down.  I can only imagine the disappointment that the Israelites felt at this point in time.  They had endured years of abuse in a foreign land under the rule of a crazy man and then they were finally set free to go back to their promise land and permitted to worship their God in freedom. Began to rebuild the temple and someone falsely pulls the carpet out from underneath them.  I think I would have felt like giving up too!  Then hear comes Zechariah proclaiming the voice of God and sowing seeds of hope among the destitute and broken-hearted not only that the temple would be re-built but that their Savior was coming soon and that he would redeem all that they had lost and return it to them two fold.

As I was reading this I was thinking Zechariah had a hell of a job trying to sow seeds of hope to a distraught and destitute nation and all by his lonesome –how did he have the strength to do this?  Well he wasn’t alone. He had a friend and confidant in Haggai, another minor prophet who had seen the actual destruction of the first temple all the way through to the present time.  I’m sure they both leaned on one another in so many different ways and encouraged and exhorted one another to help see their countrymen to the end of this struggle to rebuild their temple so that they could worship their true Father in freedom.  Any time there is a one and another ‘one another’ there is community and community is where hope thrives and somehow there always seems to be enough hope to see us through.  When I think about the temple that the Israelites rebuilt I think about our hearts and the rebuilding that goes on daily.  The Israelites finally rebuilt the Temple the temple in 516 BC. Construction of a new temple was begun in 537 BC; after a hiatus, work resumed 520 BC, with completion occurring in 516 BC and dedication in 515.  If you remember from earlier the rebuilding of the Temple was authorized by Cyrus the Great and ratified by Darius the Great. God’s faithfulness and the community that surrounds us gives us hope that one day freedom might be restored.  Even though we experience restoration in portions of our hearts, just like the Israelites did with the temple, doesn’t mean we are exempt from pain and suffering, in fact, Christ said we would continue to experience trouble (John 16:33) and that suffering that results from the trouble that we experience teaches us to love more deeply, and through that love we give others hope to take one more step.  That’s not the end of the story nor the end of what Zechariah wrote to the Israelites.  In 70 A.D. the Romans destroyed the temple a second time and to this day the Jews are hoping that it will be restored once again when the Messiah returns.  Zechariah 14 is the prophecy concerning the second coming of Christ and the final restoration of the temple.  Pretty cool story. I tried to tell it as I understood it and I hope it leaves you encouraged.

Finally I will end by sharing with you something that happened to me in the fall of ‘08.  I have struggled with SA since I was a young kid and the last several years God has surrounded me with a great community of people both men and woman who have loved me and created a safe place for my heart to heal.  I suffered the consequences of a lost marriage and as I have grown and healed over the years the prospect of dating has come up.  I certainly keep hoping that one day I might be able to remarry and have a family. It’s a deep desire that I have had to put on hold for a long time, but now that I’m here I still hear the lies that tell me that I am damaged goods and that I could never love or be loved enough to sustain a relationship so I remain stagnate. It has been a difficult transition for me and probably one of the scariest things that I have faced most recently. This last Fall I relapsed. Usually when that happens I isolate and hide, but this particular night I decided to do something different and it snowballed into something more than I would have imagined –something redemptive.  I decided to go to the Refuge. They were having a dinner that night so I kind of hung out in the foyer trying to be as discreet as I possibly could and I am really good at that, trust me.  As I hung out and watched people getting their dinners and sitting around fellowshiping I saw this peculiar older gentleman walking around in what looked like fatigues and a mohawk with all kinds of cool earrings and tattoos.    It definitely got my attention, but then again the Refuge is a melting pot of everything and everybody that’s what makes it so good.  I just thought to myself it must be a new guy and continued to people watch.  About 5 minuets later Kathy got up and started to introduced a friend of hers that she and Karl had met up in the NW and then asked him to come up and share a little bit about himself.  It was the new guy I saw.  I thought to myself “this should be interesting cause you never know who Kathy’s going to bring even though it’s usually always good” and just by his looks alone he seemed like a helluva character. I was intrigued to say the least.  Well he got up and no kidding he said the following,” Hello, my name is Ken and I have 22 days of sobriety from alcoholism……”  I lost it inside I started to tear up and the feelings of loneliness and shame slid right off my back.  Under my breath I said thanks Ken, I only have 30 minutes but I know I’m not alone any more.  I can’t really describe to you the rest because it would take too long and I don’t know that I could put words to it that would do it any justice, but I did get a chance to talk to him a couple of days later and found out he had a heart bigger that the state of Texas and a huge burden for the homeless.  Earlier that evening his wife Deborah shared with the group and I was blown away by the fact that she had stayed with Ken all those years even though he had struggled with his addiction for so long.  You see I have always bought the lie of perfection: kick the addiction then you will be acceptable enough, otherwise you’re just damaged goods that nobody wants.  That was clearly not the case and Deborah and Ken were living proof that challenged the lie that I had lived with for so long.  I’m generally a pretty private person and a little bashful with people I have never talked to before, but I felt a deep need to thank Deborah for loving Ken despite his battle with alcoholism, and I’m not sure how this works but by loving Ken she loved me and gave me hope that one day I might be married and loved for Drew, the good the bad and the ugly, and not for my goodness alone.  Later I spoke to Deborah and told her what I had shared with Ken about my journey and what she had done for me by loving Ken and how much it meant to me.  She smiled and thanked me and said that no one had ever told her that before then she gave me a hug and said she was hopeful that someone special would come into my life soon.  I wrote Ken later because I wanted to share with him a quote that I had found that I thought represented their love for one another….

Any way here is the note I wrote:

Ken,
How are you doing? I wanted to write you and Deborah and thank you for your time spent with us here in Colorado. I enjoyed talking with you Thursday night and wanted to let you know that you really spoke to my heart and give me hope. I looked up the quote from CS Lewis that Deborah gave during her talk and found that it came from a Sermon that he gave in 1941 called “The Weight of Glory”. I love CS Lewis and have enjoyed reading his works when I can keep up with him sometimes his thought are quite deep and it’s a daunting task to understand what he’s exactly trying to communicate, but he always has some amazing insight. I came across another quote the other day and thought of both you. I hope it is a blessing to you as you continue to be a blessing to so many others. I’ll keep you both in my prayers, take care.

“Loving all of it even while he had to hate some of it because he knows now that you don’t love because: you love despite; not for the virtues, but despite the faults.” -William Faulkner

With Love, Drew

I love Ken and Deborah and I love the body of Christ.  It’s amazing the amount of hope there is when we love despite. It’s the message God gave Zechariah in 520 BC and it the same today. God bless you and when things go south try to remember you’re loved, O prisoner of hope…

Posted in God's love, body of Christ, community, healing, hope, identity, the refuge | 5 Comments »

KATHY - hope is dangerous

Monday, January 12th, 2009

hope is dangeroushope. it can mean all kinds of things for different people, but i think it mainly implies “expectation.” a possibility that maybe things could be different, that there’s more to this life than just what we see, that there’s something better ahead. many of us, for all kinds of reasons, are afraid to hope. we have seen many of our dreams dashed. jobs lost. relationships crumbled. addictions destroy. God-not-delivering-the-goods-the-way-we-had-hoped. so we hunker down our hearts and do whatever we can to protect it against believing that good is really possible—again, or maybe for the first time. we settle for loneliness. we settle for disconnectedness. we settle for going-through-the-motions. the thought of something more hurts too much. what if we make ourselves vulnerable and hurt again? what if we try and they all get dashed anyway? what if we risk and lose again? the “what if’s” mount, hope gets held at bay, and we miss out on the thing that Jesus kept pointing to over and over and over again—life now. love now. hope now.

and it remains utterly consistent that pretty much everything Jesus calls us to is quite dangerous. so why would hope be different? hope will require a risk. it will require sacrifice. it will require working against our reflexes to run, hide, self-protect, self-medicate. it will require believing in what it unseen. it will mean we will hurt. it will mean we will be afraid. it will mean taking steps on a path we are unfamiliar with.

it will require us letting God’s spirit move in a way in our hearts that is mysterious and scary and maybe unfamiliar. so how do we get over our fear of hope’s dangerous-ness?

here are just a few thoughts:

admit what we’re really afraid of. is it being afraid to fail? are you afraid of your heart hurting? are you afraid that you’ll just end up mad at God again? what is it that freaks you out about hope? real relationship requires honesty.

seek courage in the small steps. we sometimes have such a high expectation of ourselves, that we’re supposed to somehow “take the hill” tomorrow, having conquered all that holds us back. that usually just leads to failure & shame & anger toward ourselves for our lack of faith and courage. small steps keep hope alive, especially when we celebrate them together in community.

expect it to hurt. hope’s gonna hurt. it’s supposed to. it means we are still really alive. Jesus made very clear that following him would mean pain. hardened hearts do not hurt. but soft open hopeful ones are sure to. i think we need to get better at bracing ourselves for hope to hurt.
recognize that hope in circumstances is not the same as hope in God. over and over in the scriptures the psalmists cry out “we hope in YOU, God…our hope is not in the world, but in YOU.” it is so easy to rest our hope in outcomes, tangibles, things-the-way-we-want-them-to-turn-out. this is why real hope is so dangerous, because it means accepting somehow that things may not be how we had hoped but that our hope in God mysteriously supersedes circumstances.

strain to see God, feel God, hear God wherever you can. i really think we get so blinded by our pain, our fear, our busyness, our self-centeredness that it becomes difficult to experience God’s spirit moving, revealing, challenging, strengthening, encouraging, pushing. especially when hope is waning and our anger or ambivalence is getting the best of us, we will need to strain to see him in small wacky ways that might normally be missed. in the eyes of a friend. in a word of encouragement. in a song. in the mountains. in a crisis. in a scripture. in where-ever-we-feel-a-flicker-in-our-heart-that-reminds-us-God-is-with-us.
yeah, hope is dangerous. i am afraid of it, too, but i sense God nudging me in all kinds of ways to let him fan more and more of it into flame. to risk my pride, my heart, my safety on hope’s behalf. i love romans 15:13 in the message:

Oh! May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, fill you up with peace, so that your believing lives, filled with the life-giving energy of the Holy Spirit, will brim over with hope!

this month, as we focus on hope as a community, i pray that we will be people willing to open ourselves up to its dangers. to risk on its behalf. to take steps toward life that scare us. to let God’s spirit move in ways that make our hearts come painfully alive. to let hope propel us to love.

Posted in hope, kathy, spiritual formation | 3 Comments »