do you have trouble sleeping? well you are probably not alone. given the number of ambien and lunestra commercials that interrupt my favorite tv shows, i suspect that lots of people are struggling with visiting dreamland.
recently i've had a hard time sleeping too. its not that i'm not tired... far from that!... its just that some of the pressing issues of life and the urgent needs i'm responsible for have a way of finding their way into the attic of my mind right as I'm dosing off. there i am, laying in my bed.. almost asleep and then it happens: my mind starts spinning, my heart starts beating faster and, before I know it i'm staring at the ceiling trying to get myself back into perspective. 'its going to be ok' i tell myself. i quote ps. 46.10 again and again (be still and know that I am God). unfortunately, i find it a far easier task to get back into perspective at 2 PM than at 2 AM. so i sometimes find myself sitting at my computer in the wee hours trying to untangle my thoughts on the pages of my journal. all of this conspires not only to make me very tired but also i can sometimes feel pretty unspiritual for having a such a hard time laying the more unsettling facets of my life in the hands of my Sovereign God.
well, God has encouraged me lately as i've been thinking about dealing with this.
i recently read some excerpts from a book called 'born after midnight' by aw tozer.
i believe the book is out of print (it seem like lots of the good books are.. why is Joel Osteen's book a top seller and aw tozer out of print?? the world is not fair!) anyway, tozer makes the statement that godliness and passion are often forged in the hearts of God's people 'sometime after midnight'. while others are sleeping, there are those whom God is seeking to birth something very significant deep down in their souls and they are often awake.. tossing and turning.... and they are wrestling.. asking hard questions.. praying and pleading before the throne of grace.. their hearts afire with desire and desperation. . their minds searching for answers..
now, all of this is my paraphrase, the book doesn't actually say this stuff, but it is clearly implied and, for me, very hopeful.
perhaps the struggle of a disquieted heart is, in actuality, an unexpected mercy.
it was in the dark recesses of the night that jacob wrestled with the angel... it would seem that at some point during the night jacob stopped trying to get the angel away from him and began to hold onto the angel saying 'i will not let you go until you bless me!' (see genesis 32)
it's usually in the inner dissonance of a disquieted heart that I get serious with God.
it's when my heart is churning around with uncertainty and a gnawing sense of longing for i'm not sure what that i honestly evaluate my life.. that i work towards resolution with renewed passion.
are you struggling with insomnia? with a disquieted heart? perhaps this bane to your existence will prove to be an unexpected mercy. let God do his work. embrace this frustration as a gracious interruption.. as an invitation from your Savior to know more of him.
and, along the lines of our current series, 'soundtrack of the soul' read psalms 3-4.. they are psalms about sleep and rest and peace.
may the Lord bless you richly as you pursue the one who has (is) pursuing you
and may you find in him a 'soul-rest' and an unexplainable peace that only he can give (see matt. 11.28 and phil. 4.6-7)
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Fights...
Do you fight fair? Of course you don’t. The reason I know you don’t fight fair is because I don’t fight fair. And if I, being far more spiritual than you, don’t fight fair, than you surely don’t fight fair (that was my sarcastic moment).
Who ever came up with this idea of fighting fair anyway? It kinda sounds counter intuitive. Like, go and make sure you “kill nicely”, or “brag humbly”. When I fight, I want to be unfair, or ruthless. I want to do what it takes to win. Just the idea that my fight should be restricted by some adjective like fair, that will probably cause me to loose the fight, kinda makes me not want to fight at all. After all, what good is fighting if you don’t win?
But what if winning a fight has nothing to do with being a winner? Honestly, I know a lot of people who are really good at proving a point but are really unsafe, even resented. People who allways win fights are the kind of people that everybody at work secretly whispers in contempt about when they leave a room. You might even know a person like this- There the kind of people everybody puts on a good face for in person, but when they are not in the room, they are resented, even reviled.
Whether or not you typically win a fight, or loose one, the object of fighting is not to win. The point of a fight is to hear. And when or goal is to hear, we love people better. And more than being right, I think our souls long to be loved and love well.
George Macdonald, the author, poet, and Christian Minister said, “And do not our souls themselves cry out for a nobler, better, more beautiful life?” Maybe today is the day we start loosing more fights, but start winning more friends.
-Mike Lefevre
Who ever came up with this idea of fighting fair anyway? It kinda sounds counter intuitive. Like, go and make sure you “kill nicely”, or “brag humbly”. When I fight, I want to be unfair, or ruthless. I want to do what it takes to win. Just the idea that my fight should be restricted by some adjective like fair, that will probably cause me to loose the fight, kinda makes me not want to fight at all. After all, what good is fighting if you don’t win?
But what if winning a fight has nothing to do with being a winner? Honestly, I know a lot of people who are really good at proving a point but are really unsafe, even resented. People who allways win fights are the kind of people that everybody at work secretly whispers in contempt about when they leave a room. You might even know a person like this- There the kind of people everybody puts on a good face for in person, but when they are not in the room, they are resented, even reviled.
Whether or not you typically win a fight, or loose one, the object of fighting is not to win. The point of a fight is to hear. And when or goal is to hear, we love people better. And more than being right, I think our souls long to be loved and love well.
George Macdonald, the author, poet, and Christian Minister said, “And do not our souls themselves cry out for a nobler, better, more beautiful life?” Maybe today is the day we start loosing more fights, but start winning more friends.
-Mike Lefevre
Monday, January 15, 2007
hidden anger
I grew a "chip on my shoulder" when i was going through j-hi and high school. it started subtly as I hit the awkward years that everyone hits, mine seem to hit harder than others and it was too bad others noticed before I did. I was "in" and was all of a sudden ousted from the social status that I had spent years accruing. I quickly developed the Zach Morris syndrome, longing to be "the man" and I hate to admit that somehow he has worked himself into being my alter ego. (watch out Celebrity Ball.) Looking back I didn't have it all that bad, i prob had it better than most - but my perception reigned supreme.
Jumping back into that 15 year old pubescent body would be the scariest nightmare to date. Wow, has it been 10 years? Why have i not forgotten all of the items at hand? Why - because in a large part they have proved to be some of my strongest motivators, I have held on to them.
Just before moving to Atlanta in 2004 I was hanging out with a friend from HS and his mom, we'll call her Norma (because that was her name). She always sorda looked down upon my family, or so it seemed, their family all had education and their stuff together. I was on the dawn of packing all my things and making the move to Atlanta and she muttered these words - "I give you six months Roy, you'll be back".
Forget any motivational speaker, that was it for me. The motivation to prove her wrong, along with all the others at my HS, was now at full flame. This stirs emotion as I recount it all. I can trace back long hours in the office, positioning for status within social circles, and other "noble causes" to some of these "forgotten" happenings from high school and college.
A challenge from a friend recently caused me to walk this path. He noticed that if somebody sent a jab my way i would send back an a-bomb. he noticed resentment in my tone and a flame in the eye that was askew.
This is not meant to be a long babble (although that is a blogs nature) but perhaps this is where some of our stories intersect. I find that the more ambitious the person the more wounded their ego.
Jumping back into that 15 year old pubescent body would be the scariest nightmare to date. Wow, has it been 10 years? Why have i not forgotten all of the items at hand? Why - because in a large part they have proved to be some of my strongest motivators, I have held on to them.
Just before moving to Atlanta in 2004 I was hanging out with a friend from HS and his mom, we'll call her Norma (because that was her name). She always sorda looked down upon my family, or so it seemed, their family all had education and their stuff together. I was on the dawn of packing all my things and making the move to Atlanta and she muttered these words - "I give you six months Roy, you'll be back".
Forget any motivational speaker, that was it for me. The motivation to prove her wrong, along with all the others at my HS, was now at full flame. This stirs emotion as I recount it all. I can trace back long hours in the office, positioning for status within social circles, and other "noble causes" to some of these "forgotten" happenings from high school and college.
A challenge from a friend recently caused me to walk this path. He noticed that if somebody sent a jab my way i would send back an a-bomb. he noticed resentment in my tone and a flame in the eye that was askew.
"find a person who has embraced anger, and you find a person with a wounded ego." -willardI didn't really even know that was going on, it took a brother and some coffee to bring it to the table and to the forefront of the mind. Through some time alone, falling a few more times,scripture, and more conversations - some light has been shed. I can still easily retreat to this mode of thinking, this is another plea for community - I must have people around me to call me out, love me, and drink tons of coffee with me (true quality time)
"close beside anger you will find its twin brother,contempt." -willard
This is not meant to be a long babble (although that is a blogs nature) but perhaps this is where some of our stories intersect. I find that the more ambitious the person the more wounded their ego.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
I went home for the holidays. Did you? How was it? Good? Bad? Survivable?
The odometer in my minivan shows that my 8 day holiday travel blitz racked up 1215 miles. Most of those miles were in the company of a ton of toys, a tired wife and 3 pretty happy kids (santa was more than a little generous.) As I was driving back home from central Georgie the other night, my wife and kids were asleep and so, in the rare silence, I took some time to reflect back over my interaction with the extended family.
I’m not going to lie to you, it was hard. I left with a pretty sad heart. Why? Well, the food was good, the presents were more than we deserved, the weather was awesome... but.. I found myself grieving. What was the problem? Well, I have a silent dad.
He’s not dead in the physical sense of the word, he was physically there during Christmas. But, most of the time, he was in his recliner hiding behind the newspaper. Disengaged. Unable to enter into my six year olds celebratory dance upon unwrapping her new ‘heelies’. Unable to share my two year olds fasination with the wrapping paper and bows. Unable to take may nine year old for a walk around the farm.
You may think I’m feeling sorry for myself. You may say.. ‘your dad never beat you, did he?’ No. ‘your dad never left your mom for some other flavor of the month did he?’ No. ‘your dad provided for you didn’t he?’ Yes. Maybe I am feeling sorry for myself. My dad is a great dad in many respects (Heaven knows I’m not a perfect dad!). I know he is proud of me from a distance, I know that he loves me, but he is silent, he doesn’t know how to tell me or to show me. Words of encouragement are alien to him. Questions of curiosity about the lives of others aren’t part of his vocabulary. He is imprisoned behind an inability to engage and to love and to risk and to weep and to laugh. I grieve that.
I have to fight to believe that God isn’t a lot like my dad. Now, I know the verses that would tell me otherwise, I even know them in Greek and Hebrew! But I struggle to believe God isn’t a lot like my dad, way up there in Heaven, sitting in his divine recliner, hiding behind the newspaper, t.v. remote close at hand.. largely disconnected from what’s going on in my life, or too busy being God to care. Detached. Maybe disinterested. Worst of all, silent. Do you notice me? Do I matter? Do you really care? In my struggle to embrace a God that characterizes himself as the perfect Father and who has adopted me as his beloved son, I am challenged by Zephaniah 3.17. Have you ever read it? Probably not. Zephaniah is one of those short, hard to pronounce books in the back of the Old Testament. Like most of those books (called minor prophets... not because they were 2nd stringers, but because the books are short) the book is mostly about judgment, but is sprinkled with reminders of grace. Zephaniah 3.17 is one of those reminders. It says this: ‘the Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness, he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with LOUD SINGING’
We have a God who sings. Did you know that? A singing God. Jesus sang too, you can check it out in Mark 14.26. Do you hear God singing over you? A song of delight.. not one of remorse. A song that longs for you to believe in his love for you. A song that allures you to stop living like an orphan, to stop living like someone who has to make it on their own, and a song that calls you to start singing over others even as he is singing over you. His song is written throughout the story of scripture. It is a love song that is greater and more passionate than any other love song that has ever been written. It tells of the greatest pursuit.. the pursuit of your harlot heart, the greatest cost paid, the greatest gift given, the greatest love displayed. Be quiet. Listen. Do you hear the singing? It is that singing that frees you from sin and self-contempt. It is that singing that enables you to hope for and love your silent father. I pray that the volume of his singing will be the soundtrack of your soul this year.
The odometer in my minivan shows that my 8 day holiday travel blitz racked up 1215 miles. Most of those miles were in the company of a ton of toys, a tired wife and 3 pretty happy kids (santa was more than a little generous.) As I was driving back home from central Georgie the other night, my wife and kids were asleep and so, in the rare silence, I took some time to reflect back over my interaction with the extended family.
I’m not going to lie to you, it was hard. I left with a pretty sad heart. Why? Well, the food was good, the presents were more than we deserved, the weather was awesome... but.. I found myself grieving. What was the problem? Well, I have a silent dad.
He’s not dead in the physical sense of the word, he was physically there during Christmas. But, most of the time, he was in his recliner hiding behind the newspaper. Disengaged. Unable to enter into my six year olds celebratory dance upon unwrapping her new ‘heelies’. Unable to share my two year olds fasination with the wrapping paper and bows. Unable to take may nine year old for a walk around the farm.
You may think I’m feeling sorry for myself. You may say.. ‘your dad never beat you, did he?’ No. ‘your dad never left your mom for some other flavor of the month did he?’ No. ‘your dad provided for you didn’t he?’ Yes. Maybe I am feeling sorry for myself. My dad is a great dad in many respects (Heaven knows I’m not a perfect dad!). I know he is proud of me from a distance, I know that he loves me, but he is silent, he doesn’t know how to tell me or to show me. Words of encouragement are alien to him. Questions of curiosity about the lives of others aren’t part of his vocabulary. He is imprisoned behind an inability to engage and to love and to risk and to weep and to laugh. I grieve that.
I have to fight to believe that God isn’t a lot like my dad. Now, I know the verses that would tell me otherwise, I even know them in Greek and Hebrew! But I struggle to believe God isn’t a lot like my dad, way up there in Heaven, sitting in his divine recliner, hiding behind the newspaper, t.v. remote close at hand.. largely disconnected from what’s going on in my life, or too busy being God to care. Detached. Maybe disinterested. Worst of all, silent. Do you notice me? Do I matter? Do you really care? In my struggle to embrace a God that characterizes himself as the perfect Father and who has adopted me as his beloved son, I am challenged by Zephaniah 3.17. Have you ever read it? Probably not. Zephaniah is one of those short, hard to pronounce books in the back of the Old Testament. Like most of those books (called minor prophets... not because they were 2nd stringers, but because the books are short) the book is mostly about judgment, but is sprinkled with reminders of grace. Zephaniah 3.17 is one of those reminders. It says this: ‘the Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness, he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with LOUD SINGING’
We have a God who sings. Did you know that? A singing God. Jesus sang too, you can check it out in Mark 14.26. Do you hear God singing over you? A song of delight.. not one of remorse. A song that longs for you to believe in his love for you. A song that allures you to stop living like an orphan, to stop living like someone who has to make it on their own, and a song that calls you to start singing over others even as he is singing over you. His song is written throughout the story of scripture. It is a love song that is greater and more passionate than any other love song that has ever been written. It tells of the greatest pursuit.. the pursuit of your harlot heart, the greatest cost paid, the greatest gift given, the greatest love displayed. Be quiet. Listen. Do you hear the singing? It is that singing that frees you from sin and self-contempt. It is that singing that enables you to hope for and love your silent father. I pray that the volume of his singing will be the soundtrack of your soul this year.
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