Nativity Prayer

December 28th, 2009

As we continue the season of Christmas and move toward Epiphany, meditate on this reminder of the gift of Christ’s incarnation, from St. Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153)

Let Your goodness Lord appear to us, that we
made in your image, conform ourselves to it.
In our own strength
we cannot imitate Your majesty, power, and wonder
nor is it fitting for us to try.
But Your mercy reaches from the heavens
through the clouds to the earth below.
You have come to us as a small child,
but you have brought us the greatest of all gifts,
the gift of eternal love
Caress us with Your tiny hands,
embrace us with Your tiny arms
and pierce our hearts with Your soft, sweet cries.

Amen.

Posted in advent, prayer | No Comments »

thin places: vigilance

December 22nd, 2009

a video reflection from our 4th week of advent.

Posted in advent, journey, prayer | 2 Comments »

KARL - Thin Places: Surprise

December 14th, 2009

exclamation mark and gift boxMy wife threw a surprise party for my 40th birthday. There was lots of secrecy and fake errands to run, culminating with my appearance at the club house where 40-50 friends had gathered. It was really fun, but I have small confession:  I was not surprised.  I looked surprised–the hard work of April and the expectations of my friends demanded I feign the expected reaction. But, truth be told, I was expecting a big party.  And it is very hard to be surprised when you expect a party.  I had given her a big party for her 35th, and I felt like I deserved one in return.

If you have been following along with the Refuge advent, you know that our “thin place” this week is surprise, guided by the experience of the shepherds in Luke 2.  Saturday night, we talked about how the story is filled with the surprise of an unexpected choir, the unlikely shepherds, the size of the saviour, even the scope of the good news–to all people everywhere.

It is clear the shepherds made a cosmic contact.  They were touched by God and were shouting for joy at the encounter.  Imagine how different the story would be if the lamb jockeys had my attitude–“Hey, i deserve this. I paid my dues, and it is about time that God noticed me.”

I often have conversations with folks who seem ripped off by God. I know the feeling–looking around, feeling that somehow I am not as chosen, blessed, anointed as the rest of the schmucks in the world. Funny, God never seems to respond to a “Hey, get over here and give me some of what I deserve!”

I wonder if in our desire to be close to God we confuse anticipating with deserving?  Maybe my lack of thin places is my arrogance in believing I deserve an encounter, or worse yet, have earned it. The shepherds did not have to fake a smile or shocked look. Somehow it seems that humility opened heaven’s doors.

During this Advent I am going to try and anticipate and look, but not feel entitled.  I’ll let you know how I do.

Posted in advent, karl | 2 Comments »

JENNY - Thin Places: Silence

December 7th, 2009

Two gifts were delivered by an angel:

One.

…your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John. You will have joy and gladness…

and Two.

…because you won’t believe me, you’ll be unable to say a word until the day of your son’s birth.

The first is a joy-filled answer to the prayers of an old man and woman. The second is a surprise sign that God is at work. It doesn’t seem like a gift—more like a rebuke; but it indeed contains a gift for Zechariah–the gift of silence.

Unable to speak for nine months, the rhythm of his day would likely be punctuated with silent prayer and reflection. When his voice is mysteriously restored he astonishes his relatives and community by using the name that God had selected for his son. (It was expected that the child would be called Zechariah, after his father.) Something must have strengthened him during his time out while waiting for the baby’s arrival. In glad obedience he begins to prophesy and offer a song of praise to God known to Christians down through the ages as the Benedictus.

thin places-refuge advent

Advent - Thin Places

In our 2nd week of Advent we consider how silence and the waiting that goes along with it can be a thin place to encounter God. Silence is a place that is pregnant with pause. It is a place of possibility. As we enter a time of silence and open ourselves to what we haven’t been listening to or noticing, there is a chance that we might experience an acute awareness of God with us in that quiet space.

Are we willing to risk being quiet?
Are we willing to risk a softening of heart?
Are we willing to just be for a moment?
Can silence become a gift to us?

We, like Zechariah, may discover or re-discover a language of prayer in the rhythm of our day. It may remind us along our journey of what Zechariah sang:

By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.

May you have the courage today to find a quiet moment where you can breathe deeper and receive whatever gift silence brings you.

Posted in advent, jenny, prayer | 7 Comments »

KATHY - thin places: validation

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 »

KATHY - gratitude heals

November 16th, 2009

for the past few saturdays we have been focusing on the word “gratitude”.  for some, i have heard that it stirs up bad feelings–“here we go with the guilt–yeah, no doubt i’m probably not thankful enough.” for others, it is a reminder of how easy it is to forget how much we have to be grateful for–that life, circumstances, and all kinds of other things can block us from noticing what is good, what we do have to be thankful for despite what’s hard.

personally, i like the focus on gratitude.  i am not ashamed to say that i like the good ol’ cheesy alcoholics anonymous saying to cultivate “an attitude of gratitude.” i think there’s no downside to this principle.  but i also fully recognize that it’s not always easy to do.  let’s face it, sometimes we just don’t feel it.  we can’t see what is, we can only see what isn’t.  we can’t muster up a feeling that isn’t there.

still, regardless of the obstacles to gratitude, i think it does something powerful inside of us.  gratitude heals.

karl facilitated a couple of saturdays ago & focused on this passage in the gospel of luke 17:11-19:

As Jesus continued on toward Jerusalem, he reached the border between Galilee and Samaria.  As he entered a village there, ten lepers stood at a distance,  crying out, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” He looked at them and said, “Go show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were cleansed of their leprosy.  One of them, when he saw that he was healed, came back to Jesus, shouting, “Praise God!” He fell to the ground at Jesus’ feet, thanking him for what he had done. This man was a Samaritan.  Jesus asked, “Didn’t I heal ten men? Where are the other nine? Has no one returned to give glory to God except this foreigner?” And Jesus said to the man, “Stand up and go. Your faith has healed you.”

what he shared really struck me.  first of all, only one out of ten thanked Jesus for their immediate and powerful healing.  one out of ten. i think that’s telling.  i have no idea what was going through the other leper’s minds, but i find it interesting that the one that went back to offer thanks was the “foreigner”, the “outcast”, the “less-than.”  hmmm.  something to ponder.  i wonder if the others felt entitled to the healing?  or maybe they just got busy and went home and meant to say thanks but forgot?  i have no idea, but i do love that this one leper returned and offered his gratitude.

we will never know the ins and outs of what happened in that moment or what part of the leper’s heart Jesus saw, but karl pointed out an important thought:  maybe, what Jesus meant when he said “your faith has healed you” is “your gratitude has healed you.” he was already healed when he went to Jesus, cleansed of the ravages of leprosy.  but maybe, just maybe, the gratitude he held in his heart provided some healing power, too.

to me, the word “healing” can be interchanged with “transformation” or “change” or “shifts in our hearts.”  i think when we are thankful, when we give thanks–either out loud or in the quiet places of our hearts–that something changes, transforms, shifts inside of us.  it somehow heals.

it is so easy in the midst of dark, dark places to focus on what isn’t instead of what is. of all the things we don’t have instead of the things that we do. of all the things we wish were different.  i am also keenly aware of people in the midst of horrible, ugly, seemingly unredeemable situations who somehow can find light & be thankful for it.  i do think things are better for them.

i believe the scriptures help remind us of God’s heart for us, of a better way than we would conjure up on our own.  i am not so sure that God needs our thanks.  yeah, i am sure he appreciates it but really he’s probably okay without our strokes.  i really think God calls us to thankfulness because somehow he knows it will change us, transform us, heal us.

and that’s God’s heart for us–healing, transformation, change, hope.

yeah, gratitude heals.

Posted in healing, kathy | 2 Comments »

MICHELLE - Conflict, Intimacy and Community

November 9th, 2009

Conflict. The word itself seems to activate some invisible force field around my heart. Insulating me, protecting me from harm–but ultimately separating me from stepping across to the shared intimacy of true community. My invisible “conflict” shield was most recently exposed when faced with the unexpected dissolution of my 24 year marriage to the man of my dreams.  A great avoider and accommodate-r in conflict, I saw too late how my inability to face conflict in a healthy manner handicapped marital intimacy.  But as such unwelcome lessons go, I am realizing my conflict/intimacy problem goes way beyond my marriage relationship.  It impacts every relationship I have with friends and family, and even limits my ability to truly enjoy being ‘in community’.  (Intimacy here is referring to that sense of closeness and belonging in a relationship.)

These days, learning to be a part of an intentional community is where the break-up of my marriage has led me. (This is definitely one of the good things to come from this personal tsunami!)  I am so grateful to this beautiful group of people at the Refuge for being here with me and my kids.  Our recent Saturday evening conversation on conflict was perfect timing for me. I realize now that I had used conflict as a wall, blocking me from intimacy of the heart in all my relationships. I need a bridge, not a wall.  Is it possible that conflict can be that bridge, instead of the wall I had made it to be? Learning to see conflict as a bridge to intimacy is a whole new concept for me.  I know the song “Love can build a bridge”; but who’s heard of anyone singing that “Conflict can build a bridge”?  Doesn’t exactly stir up warm fuzzy feelings!

If conflict can lead to a true sense of closeness and belonging (conflict intimacy*), I knew I wanted to learn how to build that bridge. But I was missing a step… the step of self-intimacy. Learning to be comfortable ‘in my own skin’ is not easy for me. Even harder has been the lesson to become aware of my own feelings and to accept responsibility for taking care of myself in times of emotional distress. Focusing on the other person’s issues and avoiding conflict, or always accommodating other’s needs around me, was the only way I knew of ‘caring’ for my own feelings.  But doing that kept me from a true sense of closeness and belonging…not a very effective way to have authentic relationships!

As for the conflict bridge to intimacy, I’m learning that stepping away from a relationship in conflict (at least momentarily), gives me a chance to check in with myself.  What am I feeling?  Why? What do I need to do for myself to be ok in this moment? With my self-care needs addressed, I can then approach the conflict with greater self-awareness and clarity.  And a bridge to shared intimacy and true community slowly starts to replace the wall around my heart. (Hmm, I hear a new song in the air ♪.)

(*The Potter-Efrons, of the Relationship Institute have a great section on this in their book on intimacy, 2008.)

Posted in community, conflict, intimacy | 3 Comments »

CHRISTA - CONFLICT

October 26th, 2009

CONFLICT. 

It should always be read and written in bold and CAPITAL letters. For that is how it looks and feels in my life. 

Big. Unavoidable. Startling. Hard. 

I think I’ve learned more about conflict in the past 4 years than any other time in my life. It makes sense. I have chosen to stay married and in deep relationship with my husband. I had my first child. I became deeply committed to a specific community of people trying to follow Jesus and love each other. 

Oh, how beautiful! Marriage! Children! Community! And CONFLICT, CONFLICT, CONFLICT out the proverbial wazoo!!

I’ve been in CONFLICT with my husband, my child, my sister, my parents, my in-laws, my husbands grandparents, my friends, my co-workers, my Jesus. I’ve often made really poor choices. I’ve tried to stay safe by staying quiet, by pretending, by playing games, by lying, and by running away. I’ve taken responsibility that wasn’t mine and I’ve refused to accept responsibility when it was mine. I haven’t been humble or honest. 

I’ve also made some good choices. I’ve let go of things that I could honestly let go of and practice forgiveness. I’ve written letters and had conversations where I apologized and accepted responsibility and was humbled to accept forgiveness. I’ve tried to stay safe and therefore make different choices regarding events and conversations so that I could be the most honest for everyone. 

It’s been so difficult. I’ve learned so many good tools to work with CONFLICT and yet I still feel that I am standing at Square One. 

Sometimes my good tools don’t work the way I want them to. Sometimes my honesty confuses and hurts and seems to make things worse. Sometimes I think I use my tools incorrectly. It’s obvious that I still have much to learn. Even more obvious to me is that no matter how much practice and learning I do this will still be hard. 

It can’t be easy. It just can’t be! It’s too difficult to hear that you’ve caused some confusion, failed to meet expectations, or hurt someone. It’s too difficult to step out and tell someone they’ve done those same things to you. Especially when it’s someone you love or care about.

It’s hard to be humble and honest. Oh, so hard. 

There is a miracle that I’ve witnessed and even participated in several times in 4 years. I mean real, true, supernatural miracles. 

I’ve sat at tables with friends and loved ones. My tummy churning, my face burning, my heart so scared and sad. And there was CONFLICT. Confusion, unexpressed expectations, misinterpreted words, built up resentment, unforgiveness, dishonesty, withholding, anger. And I have seen all of that processed and turn slowly from a mess of fast rolling, quick growing chaos into bits of peace, hope, forgiveness, clarity, understanding, and love that are men and women taking time to be honest, to listen, to look and to be humble and honest. And they’ve stayed friends! We’ve stayed friends!! Can you even believe it?!

It doesn’t always happen. I keep trying different ways to handle CONFLICT with some family member and honestly, in this moment, I have no idea what to do. No idea. I keep thinking about it. And still, no idea. So, I’m trying to handle each moment individually. I don’t have to have some big game plan that I work at, but little moment by moment plans that reflect the honesty that I can give for me and for them. I don’t know if it will work. I’ll let you know in a few months. CONFLICT by Christa, Part II.

But, sometimes it does happen. It does! And it’s really a thing of beauty. Really. It’s one of those times where I would say, “I would do this again to experience this lovely aftermath of continued friendship and commitment.”

All of this brings back the earliest memory of CONFLICT that I have. I was small and my parents were fighting in their bedroom. My mom standing in front of the dresser, my dad over by the window.  And I was scared. I remember walking in and thinking that somehow my dad was at fault because my mom was crying. I remember my mom telling me it was okay and that I should leave the room, which I did. But they still fought. I’ve never asked them if they remember that moment. I think the little girl in me is scared to cause more  CONFLICT. There was no abuse in the fight, but there were loud voices from both and tears from my mother. I’ve carried the emotions from that moment throughout my life. I think that this caused me to feel that fighting in front of my children would be a bad thing. And, it is…and yet…when I do fight with my husband in front of my daughter (as I am sad that I have done and will do again) I have come to believe that I have the chance to model something for her. I have the opportunity to show her that anger is okay. CONFLICT is okay. I can do my best to stay calm, I can be honest, I can stand up for myself, I can apologize, I can show humility and I can show that above all, LOVE is bigger than conflict. I can still LOVE Daddy even though he hurt me, or I hurt him.

There is much opportunity in the moments of conflict. Much positivity. It requires a lot of trust, bravery, honesty and humility. But, there is something bigger than conflict. LOVE really can win. It’s the only thing that can win gracefully and without keeping a record. I’m not that big. And neither is conflict. 

Posted in christa, relationships | 2 Comments »

KARL - I Wonder and I Won’t

October 19th, 2009

I think the faith/doubt conundrum is as old as dust.

It seems well enough documented that a person does not have faith until they have first had doubt. Most Christ followers seem to be able to articulate a time in life when they moved into a different relationship with God because they came to trust in Jesus. Perhaps our first experience with faith and doubt is clouded because it seems so clearly linear:  I moved from doubt to faith and I liked the result. End of story.

Did we perhaps begin to believe that all of our doubts would so easily resolve in a nice package of comfort and belief? But what happens if one morning we wake plagued with angst and despair that it might all be a fairy tale?

I want to suggest a simple exercise to help us define what is happening in our moments of doubt. I believe I have distilled my doubts into just two possible types: I wonder or I won’t.

To keep it concrete, let me give a simple example of a proclamation I have alternately believed and doubted–God is love.

While all doubt was at one time in my life considered evil and the road to perdition, I now enjoy the warmth and invitation of an “I wonder” type of doubt. “I wonder” doubt is what keeps me on the road of faith. Much like a hiker is compelled to know what lies at the end of the trail or the view from the mountain peak, I wonder where this all leads. I wonder if God loves me is an invitation to find out, ask for others input, and check my experiences to see if they resonate with this concept. Of course not all people or experiences shout “yep, God is love”, but the journey most often leads me toward enough evidence that often when my head hits the pillow I am once again okay with the notion of God’s love for me.

“I won’t” doubt is very different.  It is the frightening and dark part of me that causes me to dig in my heels, lock my knees and proclaim I won’t move another inch. I become immobilized, paralyzed, and actually quite comfortable in my defiance. “I won’t” believe God loves me is not a path but rather a locked room.  The genesis is the same gut feeling called doubt, but unlike wonder’s call to explore,  “I won’t” is a slamming on the brakes. It is satisfied with only the evidence gathered or experienced so far. In fact, “I won’t” doubt is irritated with any attempts to have its course changed to I believe.

I loathe simplistic solutions, and I am not attempting to negate years of struggle with a simple two step process. But, I recognize in me that doubt is often not about my lack of information (truth, scripture, wise counsel) or experiences, but about my pride and unwillingness to change. I am trying to be more honest about my doubt and live with the “I wonder” and examine more closely the “I won’t” pride that has never yet worked out to my good.

I wonder what you might be thinking… or doubting.

Posted in karl | 1 Comment »

MIKE - where’s the doctor?

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 »

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