The Challenge Day starts with super fun physical activities at first, and then one of the facilitators talks to the teens about his/her life. The talk usually centers around the idea that at times in his/her life, they were in great pain, and what they showed the outside world was not congruent with what was really going on. The kids are then led into groups, with the directive to finish the sentence ” If you really knew me”……

The bottom line that they each learn (believe it or not) , that everyone has some level or inner pain.

Each time I watch this show, I think how much of life at the Refuge looks like Challenge Day in action. We are such a nutty and diverse group of people, try hard to be open, and deep down, we all really want to be known. Really and truly known, accepted, and deeply loved. I know I do.

Part of me wants to say, um,  my community knows quite a bit about each other, and there would be no real surprises if we did this type of sharing session. However, since life is not linear, and it can look like a process of unraveling and creating, I thought that I would try to answer the question myself. Here goes.

If you really knew me, you would know that my mom died almost 9 ½ years ago, and I think about her every.single.day. You would know that I facilitate grief groups for kids, and that I learn more and more each week how deeply the death of a special person can impact us at our core.

If you really knew me, you would know that I have felt so sad about the parts of my life that my mom can’t be a part of, and that I almost didn’t go to my college graduation because I was so sad. You would know that  my mom’s last wish was that I would have a picture of her at my wedding, and that the idea of the milestones involved with dating trigger the vulnerabilities of being without her once again.

If you really knew me, you would know that I am starting to push back against not only my fear of leaving my guard down, but also of starting a process foreign to me. You would know that I stopped dating in high school, when my mom was sick and dying. You would know that since that time, I have structured my life around busy-ness and activity and friends and protection.  You would know that I am scared to share my life, and that I am so so bummed that my mom can’t be here to see the process unfold.  You would know that I am starting to date, and that I have hoped hoped hoped that my mom is watching from afar. You would know, however, that I am really trying to let my real live community in, and let, in big and small ways, our refuge community be my family.

If you really knew me, you would know that I think that it is so beautiful how God heals our hearts in ways that are unseen. For me, this is one way that I am choosing to surrender, in hopes that the walls around my heart are permeable. If you really knew me, you would know that I am still pretty excited to see the next part of my life unfold.

Like in the show, my hope for our community is that we continue to know each other on a deeper level. Our appreciation for where we have been, where we are at, as well as where we are headed has the power to expand our love for one another. That, in my opinion, is one of the most beautiful parts of redemptive community life. And I am learning so much through being a part.  I am learning, in scary and new ways, what it’s like to try to be known.

I wonder how you would finish the sentence “If you really knew me”…….?

That is what it sounds like to me when people equate personal healing with personal faith. I cannot remember a time when someone asked me if I believed enough that felt like a gift, but always an accusation.

The following are my answers to the person who says “if you had more faith, God would heal (or bless,  give a job to, find a spouse for, etc) you”

1. It is your fault

According to scripture (perhaps my least favorite way to begin a dialogue, but I will make an exception in this case) in Mark 2, it was the faith of the paralyzed man’s friends that caused Jesus to heal. So actually if YOU had more faith I would fine.

2. I don’t want to be healed

This one works best with personal healing and jobs. Simply say “No thanks, I like things this way,” and the conversation will end abruptly.

3. My faith is growing, not shrinking

No one likes to think about this one, but it seems the scriptures often equate faith with endurance, the ability to love and believe God in the midst of hard times. The problem is this gift, as it is called in James, is given only to those who suffer. Thus, if I were healed I would lose the training that suffering provides.

4. It takes more faith to not be healed

Which is harder, to believe I am loved by and special to God when He gives me what I want when I want it, or to not have what I want and still believe?  The ones with the strongest faith believe in the relentless love of God in the midst of evidence to do otherwise.

5. I don’t believe this time

This may sound strange, but I don’t think God always does want to heal and I do not want to pester Him.  When my children were little and asked why their sibling got something they did not, I would always say “because I love them more”. It was an mplication, and since I was never able to give a satisfactory answer I just gave up and owned the accusation.

Nothing will adequately soothe the wound, often by well-intentioned friends, of the accusation of lack of faith. It stings, but if it is especially painful feel free to reply, “yea, and paralyzed folks are lazy.”

When I was about three, a babysitter came in to get me after a nap. She found me in my crib, saying over and over, “ Dickie’ s a baaaad boy.” We laughed about it in the family – and I hasten to add that family life was good, stable, loving, affirming – but somehow negative self-talk has always been a part of my life.

On June 23 I had a devastating personal crisis and attempted suicide. I spent almost two weeks in a psych hospital, trying to deal with a jumble of powerful emotions: remorse, guilt, shame and fear. My prayers were more like screams and sobs. But God was there, trying to get through to me. Over the next several days, with baby steps and setbacks, fear began to yield to hope, and shame subsided a little bit as I experienced grace. I have a long, long way to go.

During intake at the psych hospital, I had told staff that I wanted to be called Dick. But two days later I asked them to call me Richard, and I introduced myself to fellow patients with my birth name. I came to the Refuge as Richard. My old name is becoming my new name.

There are many change-of-name accounts in the Bible. Abram and Sarai become Abraham and Sarah. Jacob becomes Israel. Joseph becomes Zaphnathpaaneah (look it up! Genesis 41:45). Simon becomes Peter. Saul becomes Paul. Names carry meaning.

I looked up the meaning of my names. “ Richard” means “ powerful ruler.” (My fellow patients started calling me “ King Richard,” which was weird and wonderful and embarrassing.) “ Dick” is listed simply as a nickname for Richard. But you know it has other meanings.

I don’ t mind if people call me Dick; my family and some of my dearest friends call me that. But it’ s also associated with some painful stuff. “ Dickie’ s a baaad boy.” A scared, awkward, timid little boy and a shamefully addicted adult. I want to re-claim my birth name, Richard. I’ m not sure about “ powerful ruler” – but I know this: I can claim no power except God’ s power, and no authority other than Christ ruling in me. It’ s astounding to me to think that God – knowing me through and through, knowing what I’ ve done, knowing my ugliest secrets, still says to me (and to you!) “ I have written your name on the palms of my hands” (Isaiah 49:16).

Adrienne Rich wrote this:

Either you will go through this door
or you will not go through.
If you go through
there is always the risk
of remembering your name.

For decades I’ve called myself names: slimeball, disgusting, evil – even while pretending to have it all together. I’ m about four months in recovery. Sometimes it feels like no recovery at all, with the negative self-talk crowding out all other thoughts, with remorse, fear, and self-loathing engulfing my mind, body and spirit. But a little bit more each day I get glimpses of grace. It hurts like crazy, but it’ s starting to feel more like healing. I want to reclaim the name that God has for me.

This isn’ t really about “ proper names.” How you and I introduce ourselves, what it says on a birth certificate or a driver’ s license, what a nickname means to us – none of that is important compared to the name that is written on the palm of God’ s hand. Whether my name is Dick, or Richard, or Zaphnathpaaneah, is not important compared to God’ s dream for me. My name, at best, is a metaphor for who I am, or rather, who I am becoming, in God’ s grace.

D. J. Butler wrote a lovely worship song that speaks to me on this journey:

I will change your name:
You shall no longer be called
Wounded, outcast, lonely or afraid.

I will change your name
Your new name shall be
Confidence, joyfulness, overcoming one,
Faithfulness, friend of God
One who seeks My face.

Thank you, God, for the Refuge, where people whose lives have been shredded by what has been done to them and by what they have done, are claiming the new life that you have for them. Thank you, God – for knowing everything there is to know about me, and yet calling me Beloved.

There’s so much power packed into this little word. We’ve talked a bunch about the differences between “to, for, and with” in relationship to how we do community with folks. “With” is always the clear preference for authentic,
mutually respectful, equal, beautiful, messy-but-real relationships… “With” is entirely more complicated. Depends on how bent a person may be on controlling people or situations that are not exactly what we had envisioned them turning out to be! The addict that didn’t want help, the lonely person that pushed people
away…

I’m grieving terribly! I have a feeling I rather crave this perceived control– Somehow I’ve taken to this crazy idea that it’s easier or better or more efficient for ME (number one) to solve the problem, apply simple solution, and make all better– Just like that!

SO I found this interesting tidbit of info that gave me a better idea about what it is to live “with” and let “for” fade more to its proper place. I’m a wanna-be computer nerd, so I got a welcome idea illustration when I learned this little tidbit about computer program language. In computer language there’s actually a thing called a “for loop” where the programmer can dictate something to happen over and over again, and they can even program how many times this must happen.

There’s another kind of loop called a “do loop” that’s identical to a “for loop.” Interesting, isn’t it? My point is that some genius somewhere came out with an actual command for these wonderful machines we call computers, which tells it what to do and when to do it, and how many times. And as long as it does that command, everything runs smoothly within the program. This is the function of “for” in a computer. Isn’t that what “for” is for?? And the fact that a “do loop” is the exact same thing… well, as long as we DO, DO, DO what we are programmed FOR, FOR, FOR…

Get what I’m saying? It seems like there should be a nice algorithm to the whole thing, right? It puts a whole new meaning to controlling situations and outcomes with “for.” As long as I can do whatever it takes to make things happen that I think should happen, then I control the situation and I am doing “for.” There is no room for “with,” because that would require me to leave options open– choices and dialogue from the other side. Oh, how I fear that unknown! But how I do long for it… I can imagine the wonderful conversations and amazing new algorithms yet to be discovered!

when we traveled there as a family in january of this year we saw up close and personal how far a little love and hope goes. as you all know, the refuge doesn’t have a lot of resource, either. but what we do have are huge hearts & love for the marginalized, the oppressed, the forgotten. our friends in kenya do not have a lot of consistent western support. they run an orphanage, school, mission center, and bible college on a shoe-string budget, with no power & no running water. and they do just fine. they don’t need our money to make their world go round. but what they do long for are friends who care for them, encourage them, pray for them. and they long to do the same for us. so that’s what this upcoming trip is all about–forging friendship. getting to know each other, hanging out and learning more about each other’s faith, life, hopes and dreams.

and while we are there we do hope to infuse some tangible help in some areas that they need. that’s what friends sometimes do for each other.

some of the things we’ll be focusing on are:

our gathering this past saturday eve was a huge blessing & we raised money to cover most of these projects. thanks for everyone’s love! if you still want to be part in any way, shape or form, any extra money we raise will go toward food for the orphanage. another way you can help is by bringing small school supplies (stickers, markers, pencils, etc.) to the refuge on saturday eves. but the best way you can help, really, is just to pray for our friends, this trip, for the ethos of the refuge community to be extended; and most of all, pray for us to be so open to learning all we can learn & bring that back here to share.

on saturday night sage led us in an african song. the words meant: “the spark of community flies from our place to your place.” i have no doubt that the sparks will fly both ways.

In addition, there was always a sense of guilt and shame that I carried around. I had been taught that sexual intimacy is sacred and shared between a husband and a wife. I had all sorts of intellectual arguments in my head as to why that kind of thinking was just old fashioned and outdated. Yet those arguments didn’t help me get past the fact that I knew I was sinning. Down deep, I knew that by compromising myself I was somehow violating God’s heart for me. No matter how I tried to rationalize it was all still there. It affected the relationship I had with God. It affected my ability to pray. It affected how I felt when I walked into church.

Four years ago when my divorce was final I had to decide how I wanted to go forward in life. I knew I wasn’t ready to date again. I also knew that I wanted to have healthy relationships with men. I decided to choose celibacy. What that means to me at this point is that I avoid anything that would bring about the desire for sexual intimacy. I really strive to see myself just as a fellow human being and not only as a sexual being. The good news is that I am building some healthy male friendships that are spiritually transforming. Sometimes it’s hard not to get that male attention that was always so important to me in the past. But, I am working on seeing what God sees when I look in the mirror. If there is a point that I do begin to date again then I am committed to keep good boundaries. I see the value in waiting and saving sexual intimacy for marriage. It’s what I want to model for my children and for the community around me. Through this choice, I am learning things about God and myself that I am so thankful for.

The saying “time is money” had always implied to me that I’d be foolish not to spend my time in the pursuit of financial gain. Maybe now that I’ve passed the half-way mark and make my way down the other side of the hill, I’m more likely to interpret the old saying as, “time is precious.”

Today is my birthday, and to me the day has always held some magic. It is the 24 hour window from which I count all other days. It is my own personal New Year’s Day, and even though I share it with millions of others, it’s mine to spend as I wish. What shall I do with the 1,440 precious minutes that make up my extra-ordinary day?

As our little church has been walking through the liturgical calendar this year, we’ve learned that we are in the midst of what is called Ordinary Time. Yes, I suppose compared to the Christmas or Lenten seasons it could be called ordinary, but I see it as an oxymoron if ever there was one.

As the second hand ticks off one moment after another, I’m more conscious of what I can “spend” my precious moments on. Looking back on the times of my life, the occasions that have created little MeTube videos in my mind to replay as I wish, those most cherished are moments shared with people I love.

Gold, diamonds, oil, and good old cash, all have great value in this world, but none can buy us another day, let alone another trip around the sun.

So today I’m celebrating my birthday, this ordinary day in the middle of ordinary time, replaying so many little videos that include you. Those moments when we “went dutch” in the purchase of a shared memory; talking, camping, bowling, praying, eating, laughing, crying, singing, hugging, loving, learning, packing, moving, and yet more crying, and I am so grateful for all the “ordinary time” we’ve spent together.

Actually I really like how Sarah McLachlan puts it, and would love to share a bit more time just quietly listening with you. XO ~Deb

Well, my life has taken a major detour, but along the way I’ve collected some notes about sheep behavior which have given me a glimpse into what living in a community of faith might be like.

1) Sheep love being in a herd. They need to keep a visual link to at least 4 or 5 sheep at all times. It’s the banding together of sheep that protects them from predators. This also enables the guardian dog to protect the sheep. A dog can’t protect the sheep if they all go off in different directions.

2) Sheep have excellent sight although their depth perception is poor. They’re reluctant to go where they can’t see.

3) Touch is important to the interaction between sheep. Groups of sheep that have this kind of contact are calmer.

4) Sheep have a flight zone. This is the distance they will put between humans or other animals that they need to feel safe. This distance can be reduced by humans or the guardian dog walking through the herd until they feel safe.

“The Lord is my Shepherd, He leads me beside quiet waters, he renews my life” Ps 23

Knowing what I know about sheep and their need to stay with the flock, this verse seems truer if it says “The Lord is OUR Shepherd, He leads US beside quiet waters, He renews OUR life.” It’s truer to sheep characteristics that the renewal of our lives happens more often within the herd than alone with the Shepherd.

So in a nutshell, the main thing I learn from sheep behavior is:

STAY WITH THE GROUP!

Baa.

recently i went on my first outside labyrinth walk. before you mistake me for someone super spiritual, let me set the record straight. the reason i participated in this event was purely self serving. i went to spend quality time with my friends from the refuge, not to gain a closer connection with God. but, as He usually does, He intersected with me right where i was. a labyrinth differs from a maze in one important aspect. there are no dead ends in the labyrinth. the path will always lead toward the center or away from the center, but never into a dead end. even if you decide to step over the boundaries to get to a different section of the path, you are either going forward, toward the goal, or away from it.

as i embarked on this spiritual activity i was impressed by the parallel between the labyrinth and the journey of life. vibrant shrubs were the first things that caught my eye. they surrounded the outer edge. many were quite full and healthy. some, though, had weeds growing in them and looked sickly. others had “things” growing out of them that looked kinda like weeds, but also looked like they might be new growth. ugly, lifeless weeds were growing in the cracks between the flagstone of the path. God seemed to impress on me how the beautiful bushes and the ugly weeds could occupy the same space but be completely opposite each other. while some were thriving, others were just existing and others were dying. and the vibrant shrubs could be compromised when entangled with the weeds. and you know i can never be sure what the “things” were–just like i can never know if people are full of life or death. and maybe it doesn’t matter, anyway. maybe it’s His business and their business, but not mine. “things” can be different from me, but still be alright.

between the bushes were solar powered lights, there, i suppose, to shed some light on the darkness. not a single one was standing straight, like i imagine they were when they were placed in the garden. they were all bent over, in varying degrees, from the elements and storms of life. but they still worked. still gave off light. that is all but one. it’s base had become detached from the solar panel. although the sun shown equally on all the lamps, this broken one received no power. interesting to me was the fact that the creator of the labyrinth had decided to not discard this broken vessel. instead it remained, waiting for the day he could fix it and make it whole again.

i noticed many various rocks on my journey. some small. some big. there were many different colors. some were prettier than others. some weathered. some covered in mud. a few were whole and smooth, but most were broken and jagged. a lot like the people in my life. each different, but all with a certain beauty. life has made each who he/she is today. each with a special story. none the same. each unique.

a few groups of bike riders ventured by. some seemed oblivious to the path of life i was on. others looked with disdain in a dismissive way, like they were somehow judging my journey. similar, i’m sure, to the way i have judged theirs. memories flooded my mind. back to the time my wife and i experienced life giving spiritual renewal as we rode our mountain bikes with our kids, exploring God’s beauty in nature and connecting in a mystical way with His glory. that was my path then. it might be their path now. who am i to judge. all of our paths are different, because they are our paths now.

this labyrinth was constructed in a manner that gave the illusion that you were getting farther away from the center, when in reality you were right on course. a lot like life, me thinks. many times it felt like i was going in the wrong direction and i had to fight the urge to carve out a new path for myself. sometimes my friends and i were going in opposite directions. other times we were going the same way. on occasion, we were going side by side for the briefest of moments. at times the trail seemed to be too long. i wanted to quit. but stopping didn’t change the fact that i was still on a journey. i had to keep moving. the only choice was go forward or going backward. so i trudged along. the one who went before me, encouraged me that i was, in fact going in the right direction. even when the road seemed bumpy and uneven. there were a few times i could see a ways down this path, but for the most part i could not see more than a few feet in front of me.

yes the labyrinth, like life, must be traveled one step at a time. one day at a time. trusting that the Creator designed it in such a way that i will reach my goal, actually His goal, if i continue to keep moving. putting one foot in front of the next, taking the best next step.

the refuge hosts a monthly labyrinth walk around denver/boulder. our next one is sunday, september 26th at northglenn church of christ. details here

we are kicking off a new series of conversations at our saturday evening gatherings over september & october focused on the ways of Jesus, using the scriptures from the church calendar.  this past saturday eve we started with this very tricky passage from luke 14 where Jesus tells the disciples to really count the cost, what it means to follow him.  here’s what part of it says:

A large crowd was following Jesus. He turned around and said to them, “If you want to be my disciple, you must hate everyone else by comparison—your father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even your own life. Otherwise, you cannot be my disciple. And if you do not carry your own cross and follow me, you cannot be my disciple.  - verses 25-27

many of our first reactions to this passage are “ouch.”  that is rough.  hate our parents?  isn’t Jesus supposed to be about love?  and what happens if we can’t pick up our cross all the way, does that mean we don’t get to play?  there are so many different angles that this scripture can go, but the direction that we went on saturday eve was toward the crazy, paradoxical ways of Jesus and how what seems so heavy, so hard, is actually lighter than we think, better than we think.  and that is what the kingdom of God is like.

so many of us are waiting and hoping for an easier path, a smoother road, a way-to-escape-the-pain-and-suffering-of-this-real-life-we’re-living.  i am in this club.  i have this crazy idea in my head that “once i’m done with this, once this happens, once that happens, then everything’s going to be easier.” and the reality is that every time i turn the next corner, a new corner appears.  because life here on earth is not about smooth, easy, pain-free, or prosperous.

i think that’s what Jesus is saying in this passage, what he’s reminding us of–the cross is a powerful symbol because it is the place where Jesus, the one who was supposed to conquer the oppressors and set all things right in a practical sense, actually ends up dying (temporarily).  it is the wild paradox of Jesus.  instead of redeeming everyone in the practical sense, he ends up redeeming everyone in the spiritual instead, in the places of our heart and experience that have nothing to do with money, power, or ease. and when he tells us to pick up our cross, i think he’s telling us that this means a life of paradox, too. that in the midst of the hard stuff, it will somehow be better.  that even though our crosses seem heavy, somehow in-a-supernatural-Jesus-way, they are also lighter.  that the gospel is complicated when it’s contrasted with the ways of the world, yet it is also profoundly simple–love God, love our neighbor as ourselves.

i personally am not crazy about paradoxes because i like all good, all easy, all my-way.  yet, something that i am continuing to learn is just how powerful it is to embrace that both exist at the same time.

i believe that living the ways of Jesus means leaning into this idea not just in words or intellectual conversation, but in the deep parts of our experience–individually and as a community.  sometimes every part of me screams “yes, this is what i want!” and then another part of me is stomping up and down saying “but, i can’t, i won’t, it’s just too hard.” i think that’s why we need to keep seeking God’s strength & hope and why we need each other so much.  to encourage each other to pick up our crosses.  to share the load, to look in each other’s eyes and say “yes, this is hard.  but it’s better.” this is a good path to walk.  and even though sometimes it feels like we’ll die along the way, somehow these crazy ways of Jesus actually bring more life.