For one of my classes we were supposed to choose a spiritual discipline for Lent which would help us learn discernment. I really wanted to grow in my ability to discern God’s voice. In the past I have found that my journaling provided the best avenue for that process for me. However, this assignment was not only to deepen our discernment of the Spirit of God’s directing, but also our discernment of other people’s spirits. My kids have accused me on more than one occasion of being busy, being distracted, of not paying attention. So with fear and trepidation, I chose what some may call active or attentive listening. I figured if I can’t give complete attention to someone who I can see standing in front of me, how in the world could I pay attention to the Spirit of God whom I can’t see?
Practically, I needed to figure out how to do this in a measurable way. I decided that I would not multitask whenever one of my children were talking to me and that I would focus all of my attention on them and what they were saying. I thought about including Mike as well, but frankly was scared to, just because we tend to talk a lot and I was afraid I’d never get anything done. My plan was, after four weeks, I’d also try doing the same thing with God, that when I was wanting to listen to Him, I’d try to not be doing other things.
I guess I had forgotten to figure in that I usually talk with the kids while I make dinner. They sit at the kitchen island, eating a snack. Then I help with their homework. All the while we talk, I chop, mix or whatever. I answer a question, open the fridge, subconsciously take inventory, answer another question, add items to the grocery list, ask about their day, etc. There are many days when I’m talking on the phone, planning whether or not a play date fits on the calendar, form up hamburgers, and cast long, loving looks at my significant other, all simultaneously. It’s an art known only to mothers.
The first day I was shocked. I was chopping an onion when Emma came up for help on a math assignment. As I was about to answer her, I remembered my assignment and set the knife down. Question answered, I returned to chopping. Then Ian came up with a question. Needless to say, dinner was very late. It only took about three days before I realized I needed to be prepping dinner (or having someone else prep it) much earlier in the day. I guess that was my first aha moment. Active listening means planning ahead.
It was barely one week into Lent and I still had five weeks to go. Was I going to have to prep dinner before the kids got home every day? That was supposed to be my study time. I was also waiting for the kids to acknowledge my incredible sacrifice. Didn’t they see my mind racing every time I had to stop what I was doing to talk with them? In short, the answer to that is “no”. They didn’t notice. Neither did Mike, at least, not until he asked. (Ok, so I complained about how hard this project was until he finally asked what I was doing.)
What was making it even harder is, as I began giving more attention to the kids, they seemed to start having more needs. And then it branched off. Instead of just needing help on homework, they realized (subconsciously, probably) that I was actually listening to them and began telling me more of what was going on in their hearts. The good thing is that was exactly what I wanted. The bad (well, not bad, but just difficult) thing is that took even more time which meant I needed to plan even further ahead. That led to the second aha moment: When one actively listens, others share those things that are closer to their hearts.
I started to get rather excited. “Wow. If I actively listen to God, maybe I’ll hear more of His heart. That’s the direction I want to go!” I was anxious to implement this in the last couple of weeks of Lent. (Yes, I intended to do it more than that, but for this assignment, those two weeks were what I had planned to journal on.) Unfortunately, just as I was about to begin, Mike’s father passed away. We went up to Michigan for the funeral and I returned to the impending due dates for two massive papers. I had planned to finish them earlier, but it was actually the not-multitasking-active-listening that put me behind on my schedule. I figured I could return to my active listening to God experiment, maybe “extending” Lent as soon as I finished the papers two weeks later. The day I finished my papers, we heard Mike’s mom was failing and a couple of days later, she too went home to God. So it was off to Michigan for a second funeral. Third aha moment: Life doesn’t go on hold when you decide you want to grow spiritually. In fact, it may even get tougher since it is suffering that drives us to God.
In those tough days, the Holy Spirit made it clear that I needed to just be there for Mike, to listen when he wanted to talk, to sit with him quietly when he simply needed companionship. Amazingly, I had learned how. Somehow, in the few weeks of practicing listening, I actually learned something. I am not close to perfect at it, but it was progress. Just to keep me humble, one of my kids said again this week that I was too busy, that I’m always stressed over due dates, etc. (Personally, I distinguish that as “good stress”. I love studying and writing papers, though the due dates do sometimes put me in a pinch. But she didn’t see them that way. What I discerned her heart saying was that she wanted more attention.)
Today I went to the department store. The lady at the cosmetic counter began talking to me as I was buying some makeup. I looked at my watch: I had thirty-three minutes to finish and get back to pick up Anna. Immediately I felt the Holy Spirit tell me to put my watch in my pocket and listen to this lady. I did. As she spoke, she began to pour out her family’s trials. I heard her heart. I think I said two things, empathizing. I’m not really sure – they weren’t my words. The next thing I knew she was embracing me with tears in her eyes, asking me to come back and she’d take me to coffee to talk more. That led to my fourth aha moment: Listening actively is a way of extending God’s grace to the world. And everyone’s soul can use that.
Like a rock,
The Submissive Despot
Amy Louise
Friday, May 1, 2009
March, 2009
We’ve had a few crises of faith going on at the Shane household of late. This month I have two papers due. Both are on the topic of women. In the first I’m looking at Jesus’ interactions with women in the Gospels. The second is an inductive study of a passage in the New Testament dealing with behavioral/role expectations of men and women. The first I chose, the second was assigned. But it has thrown me into the world of women in the first century. And it was perfect timing since I’ve been struggling through this whole issue of being a Christian woman (as one of the last newsletters alluded to).
In an American mindset, equality of worth and equality of opportunity are often seen as going hand-in-hand. Just witness the civil rights movement. So when young women who have been raised in the post-women’s lib era approach Scripture and see restrictions placed on them, they naturally feel something is out of kilter. I was raised in a world that was pre-lib, but being on the cusp of that era as the very last of the boomers, I got a little of both worlds.
I read a lot of articles on both sides of the issues. What was odd is that my brain and my heart were often on opposite sides. I often found myself arguing for God’s sovereign right to place role distinctions, yet my heart cried, “Why?” Yes, I understand the “ontologically the same, but functionally different” logic, but my heart doesn’t care. I feel unloved when I don’t feel I have the same opportunities as another based on something that I cannot change.
Meanwhile, one child has been struggling through whether or not there is a God. She read a book about a cult and read them saying the same kinds of “spiritual” phrases and yet having behaviors that are diametrically opposed to what we teach. The more she read, the more confused she got. Simultaneously she came across the story of Achan in the Old Testament. (He’s the guy who lied and got himself and his whole family annihilated because of it.) Why would God kill his family? Weren’t the kids innocent? Did she even want to believe in a God who would do such a thing? How can the God of the Old Testament be the same as the God in the New Testament? And how did she know that she herself was not like the girl in the cult who had been fed a load of hooey and that she was going through life blindly accepting stuff like those kids?
Having just come through an Old Testament class that covered subjects like that, I tried teaching her a few of the things I had learned. Didn’t work. I was speaking to her brain, not her heart. She decided that she did not want to believe in God. As we talked through the whole issue, I couldn’t believe myself saying it, but I encouraged her to go with that idea. For a month. “Take one month, do not acknowledge God in any way, and see how you feel at the end of it.” Maybe I was wrong, but I knew that if her faith was true it would stand. And if it was built solely on what others have taught her and not her own convictions, it’d collapse.
It was tough for her. She told me later that she would often start to pray and then remember, “Oh yeah, I don’t believe in God. I can’t pray.” It was tough going to church with the family as well. Every time I looked at her face, she seemed so conflicted, but I knew this one was between her and God. A few weeks after her month ended, she came to me in tears. She missed God. But she also felt guilty for rejecting Him. At the same time, she’s still full of so many questions and doubts. All I could do was hold her and tell her it was OK to search for truth. “Be glad you care enough to search. And keep searching. You search for God. I’ll search to know His love. The enemy of faith is not doubt, but indifference.”
Like a rock,
The Submissive Despot
Amy Louise
In an American mindset, equality of worth and equality of opportunity are often seen as going hand-in-hand. Just witness the civil rights movement. So when young women who have been raised in the post-women’s lib era approach Scripture and see restrictions placed on them, they naturally feel something is out of kilter. I was raised in a world that was pre-lib, but being on the cusp of that era as the very last of the boomers, I got a little of both worlds.
I read a lot of articles on both sides of the issues. What was odd is that my brain and my heart were often on opposite sides. I often found myself arguing for God’s sovereign right to place role distinctions, yet my heart cried, “Why?” Yes, I understand the “ontologically the same, but functionally different” logic, but my heart doesn’t care. I feel unloved when I don’t feel I have the same opportunities as another based on something that I cannot change.
Meanwhile, one child has been struggling through whether or not there is a God. She read a book about a cult and read them saying the same kinds of “spiritual” phrases and yet having behaviors that are diametrically opposed to what we teach. The more she read, the more confused she got. Simultaneously she came across the story of Achan in the Old Testament. (He’s the guy who lied and got himself and his whole family annihilated because of it.) Why would God kill his family? Weren’t the kids innocent? Did she even want to believe in a God who would do such a thing? How can the God of the Old Testament be the same as the God in the New Testament? And how did she know that she herself was not like the girl in the cult who had been fed a load of hooey and that she was going through life blindly accepting stuff like those kids?
Having just come through an Old Testament class that covered subjects like that, I tried teaching her a few of the things I had learned. Didn’t work. I was speaking to her brain, not her heart. She decided that she did not want to believe in God. As we talked through the whole issue, I couldn’t believe myself saying it, but I encouraged her to go with that idea. For a month. “Take one month, do not acknowledge God in any way, and see how you feel at the end of it.” Maybe I was wrong, but I knew that if her faith was true it would stand. And if it was built solely on what others have taught her and not her own convictions, it’d collapse.
It was tough for her. She told me later that she would often start to pray and then remember, “Oh yeah, I don’t believe in God. I can’t pray.” It was tough going to church with the family as well. Every time I looked at her face, she seemed so conflicted, but I knew this one was between her and God. A few weeks after her month ended, she came to me in tears. She missed God. But she also felt guilty for rejecting Him. At the same time, she’s still full of so many questions and doubts. All I could do was hold her and tell her it was OK to search for truth. “Be glad you care enough to search. And keep searching. You search for God. I’ll search to know His love. The enemy of faith is not doubt, but indifference.”
Like a rock,
The Submissive Despot
Amy Louise
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
February, 2009
February, 2009
I’ve been doing a lot of reading now that I’m back in school. No more shall my intellectual subsistence be three headlines and a magazine “novelette”. Seminary has already forced Mike into full-time reading glasses. (At least, that is what he’s blaming them on!) What has been interesting is which books and classes really appeal to me.
This past year it became clear to me that God wanted me to learn how to sit at His feet, to grow in being rather than doing, relationship rather than tasks. I came into this major where the emphasis is just that. But we still have a host of core courses. And I love them! I love studying; I love learning; I love analyzing and approaching Scripture with my mind. And I’m learning in the other area as well – approaching Scripture with my heart. But I have to work a lot harder to get there in those. In truth there are times when I think, “What in the world am I doing?”
I look around at the people in my major and I see all of these sweet, caring individuals. They all speak softly. They all speak encouraging words with smiles that never belie what they are truly thinking. (Not that they necessarily are thinking differently from what their face is telling, but I know what I would be thinking….) I see quiet calm individuals who have been relational all of their lives. I see people for whom being a harsh task master means they forgot to say “Please”.
At a recent class, one gal was leading the devotional. She had us close our eyes and picture Jesus walking into the room, beckoning to us to go outside with Him, and walking arm in arm with Him around campus. Then she asked us to listen and hear what He was telling us. This kind of exercise is still a little tough for me – a bit too “squishy”. I tend to prefer something a little more concrete. But I tried. And as I did, I heard a voice (not literally – for those of you other concrete types out there). It started telling me how I wasn’t fitting in and how I needed to change to a kinder, softer Amy. My feeling as I ended the exercise was one of feeling unloved, of feeling as though He didn’t like me and that I wasn’t good enough. And frankly, I was upset.
I understand if we are living in sin or something that we need to change. But if this is how we are made, if God is the one who wired us this way, why do I need to change? Is it that God doesn’t like me? Does a need for change always mean that? An old saying comes to mind: “God loves you just the way you are – and too much to leave you that way”. Is that just Christianese for “God loves you just the way you are – well, maybe not”? Do I need to undergo a personality overhaul to be a spiritual director? (Or whatever job this leads to?) And why is God calling me to learn in an arena that is so foreign to me? Was it God calling? Couldn’t I pursue a nice concrete Biblical Studies major and just take a few of these other classes as electives? Or would that allow me to distance myself too much from what God wants me to learn? And, God, do I really have to change? Do You not like me the way I am? I’ve been beat up my whole life for being too loud, too boisterous, too generous, too strong. Just too much. Do You think I’m too much too, God?
I was finally starting to feel comfortable again with this path when I went to a meeting where a group was looking to hire a director of spiritual formation. Unfortunately, they don’t feel a woman would fit the bill. Though the women of the group would enjoy it, the leader didn’t think the men in the group would be comfortable following a woman. I don’t quite get that. The group is looking for a godly person. Why does gender matter? I’m not out to change anyone’s theology and I understand the basis for many not wanting a female leader in the church. (I was raised under that teaching.) But this was not a church. Imagine if the leadership of that group modeled to the younger members that one can learn from anyone, that one should always be willing to look up to and pattern their lives after someone of a godly character, regardless of gender.
I began to question myself. Is this what I’m going to be up against if I pursue this field? Frankly, if it is, I don’t want it. I’m too tired and too old to fight this battle. And frankly, I don’t care that much. I have enough things in my life to keep me busy and happy. Besides, even if it is right, we are never called to push for our rights, but to be willing to surrender them for the sake of others. Yet I wonder. Am I wasting my time studying to be a spiritual director if the groups I hang with won’t let me be one? There are plenty of other things I could see myself doing. And if that route is going to be a daily battle of defending myself, forget it. I’d rather pursue something innocuous like being a teacher or professor. It seems most are OK with a woman teaching the Bible if it is teaching other women or if it is as an intellectual pursuit in an institution of higher learning. It’s when you go from the arena of intellectual leadership positions to that of relational/spiritual leadership that the gender questions are raised. Yet that is the direction I’m being drawn. Go figure. God – are You sure You are in this?
Like a rock,
The Submissive Despot
Amy Louise
Amy Shane
I’ve been doing a lot of reading now that I’m back in school. No more shall my intellectual subsistence be three headlines and a magazine “novelette”. Seminary has already forced Mike into full-time reading glasses. (At least, that is what he’s blaming them on!) What has been interesting is which books and classes really appeal to me.
This past year it became clear to me that God wanted me to learn how to sit at His feet, to grow in being rather than doing, relationship rather than tasks. I came into this major where the emphasis is just that. But we still have a host of core courses. And I love them! I love studying; I love learning; I love analyzing and approaching Scripture with my mind. And I’m learning in the other area as well – approaching Scripture with my heart. But I have to work a lot harder to get there in those. In truth there are times when I think, “What in the world am I doing?”
I look around at the people in my major and I see all of these sweet, caring individuals. They all speak softly. They all speak encouraging words with smiles that never belie what they are truly thinking. (Not that they necessarily are thinking differently from what their face is telling, but I know what I would be thinking….) I see quiet calm individuals who have been relational all of their lives. I see people for whom being a harsh task master means they forgot to say “Please”.
At a recent class, one gal was leading the devotional. She had us close our eyes and picture Jesus walking into the room, beckoning to us to go outside with Him, and walking arm in arm with Him around campus. Then she asked us to listen and hear what He was telling us. This kind of exercise is still a little tough for me – a bit too “squishy”. I tend to prefer something a little more concrete. But I tried. And as I did, I heard a voice (not literally – for those of you other concrete types out there). It started telling me how I wasn’t fitting in and how I needed to change to a kinder, softer Amy. My feeling as I ended the exercise was one of feeling unloved, of feeling as though He didn’t like me and that I wasn’t good enough. And frankly, I was upset.
I understand if we are living in sin or something that we need to change. But if this is how we are made, if God is the one who wired us this way, why do I need to change? Is it that God doesn’t like me? Does a need for change always mean that? An old saying comes to mind: “God loves you just the way you are – and too much to leave you that way”. Is that just Christianese for “God loves you just the way you are – well, maybe not”? Do I need to undergo a personality overhaul to be a spiritual director? (Or whatever job this leads to?) And why is God calling me to learn in an arena that is so foreign to me? Was it God calling? Couldn’t I pursue a nice concrete Biblical Studies major and just take a few of these other classes as electives? Or would that allow me to distance myself too much from what God wants me to learn? And, God, do I really have to change? Do You not like me the way I am? I’ve been beat up my whole life for being too loud, too boisterous, too generous, too strong. Just too much. Do You think I’m too much too, God?
I was finally starting to feel comfortable again with this path when I went to a meeting where a group was looking to hire a director of spiritual formation. Unfortunately, they don’t feel a woman would fit the bill. Though the women of the group would enjoy it, the leader didn’t think the men in the group would be comfortable following a woman. I don’t quite get that. The group is looking for a godly person. Why does gender matter? I’m not out to change anyone’s theology and I understand the basis for many not wanting a female leader in the church. (I was raised under that teaching.) But this was not a church. Imagine if the leadership of that group modeled to the younger members that one can learn from anyone, that one should always be willing to look up to and pattern their lives after someone of a godly character, regardless of gender.
I began to question myself. Is this what I’m going to be up against if I pursue this field? Frankly, if it is, I don’t want it. I’m too tired and too old to fight this battle. And frankly, I don’t care that much. I have enough things in my life to keep me busy and happy. Besides, even if it is right, we are never called to push for our rights, but to be willing to surrender them for the sake of others. Yet I wonder. Am I wasting my time studying to be a spiritual director if the groups I hang with won’t let me be one? There are plenty of other things I could see myself doing. And if that route is going to be a daily battle of defending myself, forget it. I’d rather pursue something innocuous like being a teacher or professor. It seems most are OK with a woman teaching the Bible if it is teaching other women or if it is as an intellectual pursuit in an institution of higher learning. It’s when you go from the arena of intellectual leadership positions to that of relational/spiritual leadership that the gender questions are raised. Yet that is the direction I’m being drawn. Go figure. God – are You sure You are in this?
Like a rock,
The Submissive Despot
Amy Louise
Amy Shane
January, 2009
January, 2009
I remember when I first heard about the discipline of fasting. I was in college and read Richard Foster’s Celebration of Discipline. I was intrigued because he was advocating stuff that belonged to “the other team”, things I had never learned about growing up. That book was the catalyst to help me pray with more than a laundry list of requests. It was then that I also began to journal. And I began to incorporate fasting with my prayer time when I felt the need.
At first, my fasting was mostly for a specific request – something I wanted or needed intensely. (Usually I needed direction in something I was considering. And dates. Getting a date was almost always on my prayer list in those desperate years.) I wasn’t perfect in my motivations, but I was learning. I also fasted when I just wanted to feel closer to God. I would be feeling distant, and after searching my heart for known sins and coming up empty, I still would feel a lack in my relationship with God. So I would fast and pray to ask God to renew my feelings of desire and love for Him.
Why fast? Often I found fasting seemed to increase my spiritual sensitivity. God would remind me of sins that needed dealing with. I would have my clarity in my prayers. And I seemed to just be more “in tune” when reading the Bible. Most of the time I find I need to have more time for reflection during seasons of fasting (whether it be for one meal, one week, or 40 days). I need to clear some space and have more time to journal. My journal time is consistently where I learn the most as I process what I hear the Spirit saying through the Word or through others. I’ve known others who process best when running or when hiking out in the woods. I love talking to God when I run, but if I want to remember what He impresses on my heart during that run, I’ve got to write it down.
This fall I had a strange thing happen. There is a couple here undergoing huge trials. I barely know them, but got wind of it and felt compelled to pray for them, so I emailed the guy to tell him I’d be praying for them. What was weird is that, instead of praying a few times, God would not let this one go. I was waking up multiple times at night with them on my mind. (To put that in perspective, know that for the last ten years Mike has done most all night duty with our kiddos. I sleep through cries, vomitings, fevers, whatever.) They were on my mind when I’d go for a walk, at meal times, every time I turned around it seemed I was thinking of them. So I prayed. And prayed some more. And more.
And then the effects of the bad economy started to affect many of the ministries we love and support. People – friends – were being let go. Budgets were being cut. Normally tightening the belt can be a healthy thing, but many of these groups were already running lean and mean. The next thing to be cut was ministry itself. These are tough times for everyone, but for groups such as these whose livelihoods often depend on others’ surplus or, at least, on others feeling generous, it is especially difficult. So, added to the couple on my prayer list, were these ministries, often weighing my heart in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.
The weight got so pressing I finally, around Christmas, decided to start the New Year with 40 days of prayer and fasting for this couple and these groups. I thought maybe I’d write this newsletter near the end of those forty days and be able to tell how well it went. Instead, it was probably the most difficult time of fasting I have ever done. Yes, the couple’s health issues improved some, but not without much pain. And the ministries are still barely surviving.
For myself, I had trouble carving out time to journal. In fact, instead of journaling more, I probably did less than I had in a year! I had trouble concentrating in prayer. My sister came into town right before I finished the forty days and she asked me what had changed during the fast. I had to tell her pretty much nothing had changed. Sure, I prayed more than usual, but I kept feeling like it wasn’t “connecting”. One ministry is asking for prayer (with or without fasting) every Tuesday for the year (which I had wanted them to do) and the day after my fast ended I even missed the Tuesday prayer time. It was frustrating. It was bizarre. I wanted to write my newsletter, but wasn’t sure how to even write about it. In Scripture, fasting and prayer go hand-in-hand. Or you can pray without fasting. But it doesn’t direct us to fast without prayer.
So I write this time as an appeal on behalf of those who are serving God by serving others. Please join me in prayer for them. Have your computer remind you every Tuesday this year. Pray that God’s word will continue to go out. Pray that they are able to continue helping others in the name of Christ. For some of these ministries, even their survival is in question. Pray for those that they are trying to reach, that their hearts will be turned to God. Just pray. Give. Serve. Volunteer. And then pray some more.
And be thankful that, no matter how this year goes, we know Who wins in the end.
Like a rock,
The Submissive Despot
Amy Louise
Amy Shane
I remember when I first heard about the discipline of fasting. I was in college and read Richard Foster’s Celebration of Discipline. I was intrigued because he was advocating stuff that belonged to “the other team”, things I had never learned about growing up. That book was the catalyst to help me pray with more than a laundry list of requests. It was then that I also began to journal. And I began to incorporate fasting with my prayer time when I felt the need.
At first, my fasting was mostly for a specific request – something I wanted or needed intensely. (Usually I needed direction in something I was considering. And dates. Getting a date was almost always on my prayer list in those desperate years.) I wasn’t perfect in my motivations, but I was learning. I also fasted when I just wanted to feel closer to God. I would be feeling distant, and after searching my heart for known sins and coming up empty, I still would feel a lack in my relationship with God. So I would fast and pray to ask God to renew my feelings of desire and love for Him.
Why fast? Often I found fasting seemed to increase my spiritual sensitivity. God would remind me of sins that needed dealing with. I would have my clarity in my prayers. And I seemed to just be more “in tune” when reading the Bible. Most of the time I find I need to have more time for reflection during seasons of fasting (whether it be for one meal, one week, or 40 days). I need to clear some space and have more time to journal. My journal time is consistently where I learn the most as I process what I hear the Spirit saying through the Word or through others. I’ve known others who process best when running or when hiking out in the woods. I love talking to God when I run, but if I want to remember what He impresses on my heart during that run, I’ve got to write it down.
This fall I had a strange thing happen. There is a couple here undergoing huge trials. I barely know them, but got wind of it and felt compelled to pray for them, so I emailed the guy to tell him I’d be praying for them. What was weird is that, instead of praying a few times, God would not let this one go. I was waking up multiple times at night with them on my mind. (To put that in perspective, know that for the last ten years Mike has done most all night duty with our kiddos. I sleep through cries, vomitings, fevers, whatever.) They were on my mind when I’d go for a walk, at meal times, every time I turned around it seemed I was thinking of them. So I prayed. And prayed some more. And more.
And then the effects of the bad economy started to affect many of the ministries we love and support. People – friends – were being let go. Budgets were being cut. Normally tightening the belt can be a healthy thing, but many of these groups were already running lean and mean. The next thing to be cut was ministry itself. These are tough times for everyone, but for groups such as these whose livelihoods often depend on others’ surplus or, at least, on others feeling generous, it is especially difficult. So, added to the couple on my prayer list, were these ministries, often weighing my heart in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.
The weight got so pressing I finally, around Christmas, decided to start the New Year with 40 days of prayer and fasting for this couple and these groups. I thought maybe I’d write this newsletter near the end of those forty days and be able to tell how well it went. Instead, it was probably the most difficult time of fasting I have ever done. Yes, the couple’s health issues improved some, but not without much pain. And the ministries are still barely surviving.
For myself, I had trouble carving out time to journal. In fact, instead of journaling more, I probably did less than I had in a year! I had trouble concentrating in prayer. My sister came into town right before I finished the forty days and she asked me what had changed during the fast. I had to tell her pretty much nothing had changed. Sure, I prayed more than usual, but I kept feeling like it wasn’t “connecting”. One ministry is asking for prayer (with or without fasting) every Tuesday for the year (which I had wanted them to do) and the day after my fast ended I even missed the Tuesday prayer time. It was frustrating. It was bizarre. I wanted to write my newsletter, but wasn’t sure how to even write about it. In Scripture, fasting and prayer go hand-in-hand. Or you can pray without fasting. But it doesn’t direct us to fast without prayer.
So I write this time as an appeal on behalf of those who are serving God by serving others. Please join me in prayer for them. Have your computer remind you every Tuesday this year. Pray that God’s word will continue to go out. Pray that they are able to continue helping others in the name of Christ. For some of these ministries, even their survival is in question. Pray for those that they are trying to reach, that their hearts will be turned to God. Just pray. Give. Serve. Volunteer. And then pray some more.
And be thankful that, no matter how this year goes, we know Who wins in the end.
Like a rock,
The Submissive Despot
Amy Louise
Amy Shane
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
December, 2008
December, 2008
Growing up in my church we had just 2 rites – baptism and communion, and only two special seasons – Christmas and Easter. I guess there could have been three, if you counted June, the season of potluck dinners which usually accompanied weddings and graduations. Nothing else on a religious calendar was noted. Anything that smacked of liturgy was shunned. Although I had heard the term “advent”, I never knew that it was something one celebrated until I got to college. It was there I learned about Advent, Lent, and Pentecost Sunday, among other holy days. I also learned that tuna noodle casserole was not a sacrament.
I never quite “got” Lent. Why fast just because the calendar says it’s time? I always felt fasting should be done with a purpose – to show repentance, to show dependence or to demonstrate a purity of heart when presenting a request, or simply to draw closer to God. I still believe this, but have softened some in that I now understand the desire to focus one’s attention and heart and can see how some may want to do this in preparation for Easter. Lately, I find myself wanting to focus my heart and plan to use fasting as a part of the process this upcoming year.
Advent was a season that, once I learned about it, I wished my church celebrated. Early on in my marriage, some books were published about Advent and incorporating it into one’s family worship. I always wanted to do this, but somehow continually managed to miss the first Sunday because it came so close on the heels of Thanksgiving, it always caught me unaware. This Christmas was no different, with the first Sunday squeezed between the turkey and Mike’s and my finals. I kept thinking I’d make it down to a Michael’s store where I could buy the fixings for a wreath and do double-time on the candles, but it never materialized. After finals I entered panic-mode, realizing I had not purchased even one gift and time was passing me by. Christmas came and went, but I feel like I missed out by not preparing our family.
I remember, as a kid, waiting during Christmas break for the arrival of our cousins. We’d be so excited we could hardly stand it. It was the same waiting for the birth of each of our kids. You spent so much time planning, preparing, anticipating. And when the baby finally arrived, you felt like you already knew them. The joy was unparalleled.
Elly was that way this year, helping to decorate the house (while we wrote papers), and growing in anticipation as each day passed. Then came the realization that her cousins were also coming. As their arrival drew nearer, her enthusiasm was palpable, her joy, literally about to explode. The day before their arrival, with finals in the rearview mirror and all of the gifts and goodies finally prepped, I at last had a day to look around me and enjoy the moment. Elly’s joy was contagious, pulling my attention from the urgency of the immediate to the imminent ecstasy of that which awaited us: the ARRIVAL. The cousins finally made it and I noticed Elly’s happiness was about ten-fold my own. I realize age may have something to do with it, but I began to wonder if it didn’t have something to do with the proportionality of the energy we put into the expectation.
My mind naturally wandered to my anticipation of the Christ child’s arrival. Would celebrating Advent help me to prepare my heart in a way that my joy overflows? Would putting myself in the shoes of those 2000 years ago help? Can I, can you imagine belonging to a people that knew they were unique, chosen of God? And then feel the despair of thinking that God had seemingly abandoned us? Clinging to hope, every young girl longs to be the chosen one to bear the messiah, the one who would rescue her and her people from the tyranny of the repressive regime which has taken over your country. Taxes are unbearable. Only a false peace of endurance and passivity exists. But there is one hope. A distant, far-fetched hope in a God who has turned His back. Some go about their business, casting it aside as a fairy tale. Others wait, daily reflecting on the promises of old. And finally – Finally! – he comes. Oh, the joy for those who, because they had been looking, recognized him for who he was.
Christmas is certainly a celebration. Yet because Jesus has already come, for us it is more a time of Thanksgiving rather than anticipation. Our day is still to come. A repressive enemy has taken hold of this world. The economy is in shambles. In some places, peace means simply surviving to see another day. In other places, it is a false peace, that of comparing one’s lot to those around you who have it worse. And in still other places, peace is nowhere to be found. But there is still one hope. A hope in a God who has restrained his hand. Some choose to ignore, content to have food in their mouths and shoes on their feet. Others wait in anticipation, daily reflecting on the promises of antiquity. Some day He will come again. Oh, the joy for those who, because they saw their entire life as an Advent season, because they had been looking, will rejoice at His arrival.
As you enter 2009, make it a Year of Advent.
Like a rock,
The Submissive Despot
Amy Louise
Growing up in my church we had just 2 rites – baptism and communion, and only two special seasons – Christmas and Easter. I guess there could have been three, if you counted June, the season of potluck dinners which usually accompanied weddings and graduations. Nothing else on a religious calendar was noted. Anything that smacked of liturgy was shunned. Although I had heard the term “advent”, I never knew that it was something one celebrated until I got to college. It was there I learned about Advent, Lent, and Pentecost Sunday, among other holy days. I also learned that tuna noodle casserole was not a sacrament.
I never quite “got” Lent. Why fast just because the calendar says it’s time? I always felt fasting should be done with a purpose – to show repentance, to show dependence or to demonstrate a purity of heart when presenting a request, or simply to draw closer to God. I still believe this, but have softened some in that I now understand the desire to focus one’s attention and heart and can see how some may want to do this in preparation for Easter. Lately, I find myself wanting to focus my heart and plan to use fasting as a part of the process this upcoming year.
Advent was a season that, once I learned about it, I wished my church celebrated. Early on in my marriage, some books were published about Advent and incorporating it into one’s family worship. I always wanted to do this, but somehow continually managed to miss the first Sunday because it came so close on the heels of Thanksgiving, it always caught me unaware. This Christmas was no different, with the first Sunday squeezed between the turkey and Mike’s and my finals. I kept thinking I’d make it down to a Michael’s store where I could buy the fixings for a wreath and do double-time on the candles, but it never materialized. After finals I entered panic-mode, realizing I had not purchased even one gift and time was passing me by. Christmas came and went, but I feel like I missed out by not preparing our family.
I remember, as a kid, waiting during Christmas break for the arrival of our cousins. We’d be so excited we could hardly stand it. It was the same waiting for the birth of each of our kids. You spent so much time planning, preparing, anticipating. And when the baby finally arrived, you felt like you already knew them. The joy was unparalleled.
Elly was that way this year, helping to decorate the house (while we wrote papers), and growing in anticipation as each day passed. Then came the realization that her cousins were also coming. As their arrival drew nearer, her enthusiasm was palpable, her joy, literally about to explode. The day before their arrival, with finals in the rearview mirror and all of the gifts and goodies finally prepped, I at last had a day to look around me and enjoy the moment. Elly’s joy was contagious, pulling my attention from the urgency of the immediate to the imminent ecstasy of that which awaited us: the ARRIVAL. The cousins finally made it and I noticed Elly’s happiness was about ten-fold my own. I realize age may have something to do with it, but I began to wonder if it didn’t have something to do with the proportionality of the energy we put into the expectation.
My mind naturally wandered to my anticipation of the Christ child’s arrival. Would celebrating Advent help me to prepare my heart in a way that my joy overflows? Would putting myself in the shoes of those 2000 years ago help? Can I, can you imagine belonging to a people that knew they were unique, chosen of God? And then feel the despair of thinking that God had seemingly abandoned us? Clinging to hope, every young girl longs to be the chosen one to bear the messiah, the one who would rescue her and her people from the tyranny of the repressive regime which has taken over your country. Taxes are unbearable. Only a false peace of endurance and passivity exists. But there is one hope. A distant, far-fetched hope in a God who has turned His back. Some go about their business, casting it aside as a fairy tale. Others wait, daily reflecting on the promises of old. And finally – Finally! – he comes. Oh, the joy for those who, because they had been looking, recognized him for who he was.
Christmas is certainly a celebration. Yet because Jesus has already come, for us it is more a time of Thanksgiving rather than anticipation. Our day is still to come. A repressive enemy has taken hold of this world. The economy is in shambles. In some places, peace means simply surviving to see another day. In other places, it is a false peace, that of comparing one’s lot to those around you who have it worse. And in still other places, peace is nowhere to be found. But there is still one hope. A hope in a God who has restrained his hand. Some choose to ignore, content to have food in their mouths and shoes on their feet. Others wait in anticipation, daily reflecting on the promises of antiquity. Some day He will come again. Oh, the joy for those who, because they saw their entire life as an Advent season, because they had been looking, will rejoice at His arrival.
As you enter 2009, make it a Year of Advent.
Like a rock,
The Submissive Despot
Amy Louise
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