Reflections for 2009

Reflections for 2009
I guess if pressed, I would say my biggest focus at the onset of 2009, is the battle for my heart. This last year held such temptation for me. I felt tempted to judge the actions of others, fighting mentally not to believe things were as they appeared. I fought to give what I want, the benefit of the doubt.

I felt seeds being broadcast over the fertile soil of my heart and though many little shoots were pretty and green and full of what appeared to be life it wasn’t long before I realized much of it was like spiritual kudzu. The kudzu took off and soon I found myself feeling the tightening grip of those vines choking the essence of life out of me. The pressure caused me to feel the throbbing of my own heartbeat with every breath.

I learned a new word in 2008, ontology; the essence of self. It was as though the essence of me, the very fragrance of my presence was being choked out by some cheap cologne, “Spirit of Kudzu”.

My mother used to call it “toilet water”. That term fascinated me. Who would want to wear water from a toilet? Of course, she explained, it wasn’t from the toilet; it was a name for a light fragrance that was applied directly to the skin. I loved the fragrances held in those beautiful bottles. I loved the bottles. They were tiny and the light hit them and refracted into beautiful prisms. I loved to see ordinary light hit at just the right angle to one of those deep cuts and like magic, the light separated and became clear revealing a delightful rainbow of hues. The uncut glass just didn’t have the ability to reflect the light that the cut glass did.

Isn’t it just like God to prepare me, as a little girl, to know deep in my heart, that the cuts I was to receive in life were designed to cause His light to become clearer and to help reveal the otherwise hidden colors . I have literally lived on the hope that if held to the light, others would see the beauty of it, too.

That’s how this last year has been. There have been many deep cuts. Some cuts were timely life saving procedures planned by the Master surgeon Himself. Some cuts came from some stabbing wounds that I suffered when I came upon a friend who was being mugged. I mean this metaphorically, but all the same, muggers and lynch mobs are alive and well on the streets and in the pews of the church today.

Well, some friends of mine were getting mugged. The bad guys weren’t holding scalpels either; they had switchblades, strait razors and machetes. They hurled rocks and had poison darts. Oh sure, I could have looked the other way and crossed the other side of the street, but having been ambushed a time or two myself, I know the joy of having someone willing to scrap for me. It reminds me of the Bible storey of the Good Samaritan. I understand those characters because at one time or another, I have been each one of them. There is hardly anything more lethal than a religious person wielding a proverbial straight razor.

Follow me here with this storey. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. This is not a literal translation, but hopefully you’ll get the gist of what happened.

Well, the bad guys had pinned down my friend and her husband. Then they ganged up on her and managed to wrestle her shield of faith away. They meant business and I feared they were going in for the kill. I jumped in and just threw my body over her, screaming bloody murder, the name of Jesus and every verse I’d ever learned. I wasn’t alone. Other girlfriends were there. We all had our weapons and shields but that didn’t keep us from taking a few hits. It was chaos at first but sooner than anyone could hope for, everyone got to their feet and formed a circle, locked shields and persuaded with force the bad guys to back-off.
When the air cleared a bit, it turned out there was quite an army of us. Soon the cry “Medic” could be heard through the fog. No one got any speeches. There was no condemnation or accusation. There was no interrogating the wounded. No one said, hey you big dummy, why didn’t you duck? No one said hey, just say the right things, jump until you get shin splints and put in your best offering and all will be well. We all just hustled as fast as we could, first-aid kits in hand, and just honestly hoped and prayed that some of the more seriously wounded would make it through the dark nights of agony that followed.

Wounded cared for wounded and all of us were being healed at the same time, in many different ways, some from maladies we didn’t even know we had. God was revealing the hidden subtle malignancies of the soul and all we could do was be grateful. We knew if undetected those cancerous lesions would have eventually eaten away at our souls. I am convinced now that this is a lifelong process that only ends with death.

I guess that’s why I have become so intolerant of this phenomenon that I’ve witnessed of late. I was sharing with a friend and she referred to it as “strange fire”. She is reading a book that sounds like one I will want to read also, where she first heard this term. I haven’t read the book but the term seems to fit. It’s this new breed of Christian speakers that seem to feel they have “arrived”. There is an obnoxious wave of harsh, impolite rhetoric that is allowed because they are to be obeyed.

Thankfully, I find that the Holy Spirit actually isn’t limited by incompetent people. My Father once told me that and I found it to be true. We are all incompetent humans! We are fragile.

I imagine God taking a hand full of “dust of the earth”, sand as it were, and forming man and breathing life into him. I think it is no coincidence that glass is made from sand. Sand that has been pressured and held to the fire, and then after being subjected to the process, it is turned into glass. Some glass is blown seamlessly by the master craftsman and is beautiful and fragile. Some is stamped, some is cut. Some glass becomes a beautiful vessel that is used to hold perfume. It sounds a lot like humanity to me. It sounds like Christianity to me, fragile cut glass that holds the fragrance of grace, reflecting the beauty of life with all the blues from heartbreak and disappointment, the reds from the blows and bruises of life, the oranges of the fires that have burned and the greens that come to the surface letting you know the wounds are healing and you are still alive.

This disturbing trend that I have witnessed lately is this “I am God’s messenger and only you special people that paid your fee for this conference and are here tonight are going to receive the special impartation and get my special anointing”. When did we begin to charge people for the gospel?

I have seen a departure from humility to arrogance. I have seen demands for huge honorariums required up front if you want “Big Name So-so”. I have witnessed a wave of people in the pulpit intoxicated by their own title and position. As if in a drunken stupor they use the platform to splatter toilet water over the masses. Like a common drunk their language is harsh, abusive and unkind. It’s like using a hammer to kill a fly. The fly may be taken care of but the walls are left damaged. Somehow this is rationalized because they are so awesome or anointed or such a feared prophet they demand reverence once reserved only for God. It’s like a generation of “Rock Stars for Jesus”. These high maintenance Christians are a living oxymoron to me. Feels like more kudzu, it looks alive but in the end, life is choked out.

I just don’t feel comfortable being around those who have forgotten or denied their own humanity. I am too fragile to withstand heavy-handed manipulation by those who think if they break you, they have done a service to God.

I feel much more drawn to the beautiful people in my life who have faced their own humanity. They are not afraid to stand with the wounded. They will not stand on the sidelines when others are being cut down; they are willing to take a few jabs in the process. They will cry “Medic!” readily admitting when they are wounded or when they find a wounded soul. They hold close to the light of truth and the reflections from these deeply facetted friends is breathtaking.

2008 was quite a year! I pray it has made me more compassionate for others and for myself. I think it has made me both gentle and fierce. I hope to be gentle toward the fragile hearts, and fierce as a warrior. I think it has made me more colorful. It has made me more aware that if I am in His light it is only because I am held by hands bigger than mine. I pray that it will be clearly seen in the days to come. I confess I am still in the battle. I think the stench of “Spiritual Kudzu” is being cut away, but that stuff is stubborn and requires diligence to eradicate. I know that I am not alone in my fight however; there are some real scrappers in my life and we will fight for one another. I feel I can better identify the true vine from the spiritual kudzu that chokes the life of Christ out of me. I am still in the fight for my heart however; and find it needs guarding constantly. My friends will help with that. They are willing to take the night shift whenever needed, and I will watch over them as well.

I am more aware of the small things and quite unimpressed with those who consider themselves a big deal.
This is one of my primary focus points for 2009, the battle for my heart. I do sense the life giving, light reflecting fragrances of grace emanating from fragile vessels that know the only reason life couldn’t shatter them is because they have been held by God himself in His glorious light.

As a fledgling ontologist, I pray the essence of my true humanity and who I am created to be will be discovered and released. This is my New Year’s Resolution.