Threshold Part 2

Nearly all my papers are complete and turned in, I finished my last course last week and my last week of the program is a residency week in Southern California the week after Thanksgiving. My time in this threshold is nearly done. It is time to move into whatever room is on the other side of this protracted time.

It has been a very good time for me. So much has been learned and I am coming away with a deep sense of affirmation for this calling into working with folk as a Spiritual Director. A new community of like-minded people has formed with the other cohorts in this program and I come away with three directees that I feel blessed and honored to work with. This year has flown by.

As many of you know, I spend my early mornings at a park on my way to work. It is there this incredible intimacy with God has blossomed and flourished these past nearly eleven years.  The past 5 years have been consumed with working in this realm of Spiritual Direction, the first 4 years with my friend and mentor, Tara and the last year this intense time in this program.

Last week I sat with God and listened to where my time in the park will go.  Frankly, I am not sure. I will probably move back into the rhythm I had with Him before this endeavor started; Bible open, journal at hand and a pen in my hand writing what flows between Abba and myself. I am looking forward to this but I do know this God of mystery will probably throw me some wonderful curves.

One day, late in my time at the park a low fog formed. I looked westward from my chair and noticed I could not see very far. The golden morning sun had started to make its way above the Sierra mountains behind me. The golden light was illuminating  the trees above the low forming fog letting me see them clearly. It was a beautiful picture of what I am feeling right now.

I don't know specifically what the coming days hold after all this work.  I have some doors to knock on to see if they open as I develop my practice but I still don't know what shape that will take. Some opportunities are already coming up but what is "out there" is still foggy for me. The illuminated trees represent God's light. If I look up, I can see there is something beyond the fog. I still need to navigate the clouded future but I felt a strong and compelling peace about where He is leading me.

I will say though I am anxious. Its interesting that peace and some anxiety can co-exist but isn't that just like our Heavenly Father? This infinite Other will always be able to surprise us if we but trust and love Him.

I think my anxiety comes from being comfortable in this threshold space that I must now depart. What is in the fog? What new adventures are out there? Its exciting though.

Mom Part Two

I was a little surprised at the response to my previous post here regarding my mother. Thank you all for your kind words and some stories I've heard regarding your own relationship with your mothers.

Mom was discharged Friday and is home. She is still weak and we've found someone who can help her with the things she will need done for her. We are hoping her strength will increase enough for her to make the trek to the dining room where her meals are served.

Friday evening we received word that my father-in-law was being hospitalized.  Frankly it feels like my mother and Gail's father are in a race to the end.

Both Gail and I are spent.  I can't remember feeling so tired after doing so little.  I've slept some this weekend but am still just dragging.  We are empty.

Emptiness is something we Christ followers try to avoid thinking something is wrong, after all Christ is to be our sufficiency, right?  We feel guilty, like we are disconnected from Him in some way and therefore are empty. We see the disconnect only and try to fix it with the usual fixes, prayer, scripture, church attendance, involvement.

I am finding in my empty state a consolation with Christ. Were there not times as recorded in scripture that He needed to be alone? Did He not feel the emptiness that sometimes assails us as we travel through difficult life experiences? The consolation of His presence in these days is one of simply sitting with Him in the emptiness.  I don't even have the strength to try to fill it.

That lack of strength has brought about a deeper dependence upon Him, a dependence I would not experience if I still had the strength to try to re-arrange my emptiness to make it look more acceptable to my own harsh way of self-evaluation.

I am again, still in a very odd oasis.

Mom

As I sit writing this my mother is in a hospital. Sunday while Gail and I slept soundly in her sister's home, a delightful home set in the thick forest outside of Nevada City, a phone rang with the word mom was being taken to the hospital. I quickly gathered my things and started the trek out of the forest and into the world of a busy ER.

Mom was in bad shape. Heart failure had spiked in her aged body, fluid had filled her and labored breathing had done its deed and pneumonia was suspected. While sitting with her I watched the monitor counting her heartbeats jump from 68 to 130, then back to the mid 60's. Eventually her doctor who would manage her care came. A kind man, Dr. Rafik, explained she was also in renal failure. Her kidneys were in bad shape. After explaining all they would do to help her, we settled into waiting for a hospital room. It took a long time but eventually she was settled in.

Today at work I felt the need to be there, by her side for a while. I left work early and arrived at the hospital. My timing was perfect in that Dr. Rafik was on the floor and talked to me.  Mom is responding well and her kidneys are functioning better.  She looked good for a 92 year old.

Mom has been a difficult person. Her three children have needed to deal with the fallout of mom's mercurial personality. We never knew if we would have "nice mom" or "angry mom". Of her three children, I am the only one who is geographically close so the oversight of her care in these declining years falls to Gail and I.

This is not her first hospitalization. Numerous visits have occurred since early 2010 when she fell and broke a hip. That visit was interesting in that we had not talked for a year. We'd had an issue and she told me our relationship was over. I attempted to re-connect but she would have nothing of it. That year she sent me a birthday card, one of those flowery "Son you are wonderful" cards. She'd signed it, "You have made it impossible for me to even look at you. Mom". That gives you a glimpse into the world I've tried to navigate with my difficult mom.

Healing is interesting. With each subsequent hospitalization I've had to lay aside this fractious history between us. Each hospitalization was a stripping off of something in me. Often I've thought what it will feel like when she is finally gone. A sense of relief was the lead emotion followed by guilt and emptiness.

Today I am sensing a stab of grief. Real, honest grief. I see this tiny woman and a love for her is found. It is good to come full circle after a very long time in a journey with her.

This coming around to this point of love is interesting given where I am right now. As written earlier, I am at a place of emptiness and waiting for God's cup to drink from for refreshment. Here is one of the cups He is offering. It is a cup I did not know I was thirsty for.

Borderland

This week has been quite a ride. I am currently sitting on my front porch with a fine cigar, tall glass of ice water in hand and the white glow of my computer shining through dirty glasses as I try to piece together something cogent about this week.

I have been a loner most of my life so reflection and contemplation seem to come easily to me, or so I thought. The intrapersonal world resonates with me and the entrance into that world is simply being in a natural setting, thus I am outdoors as I write. It was good to learn about these areas and how they speak and operate for and to me. The framework has helped to define the areas and thereby shows me the areas where I am weak.

As I said, I thought reflection and contemplation came easy to me.  I am sure they still do but I hit a wall this week.  After nearly constant reflection through all the classes I’ve been through since January, I am empty of the energy needed to listen well. I am listening to my body in this and I am finding something beyond physical depletion. I seem to have come to the end of something within me in regards to this inner life.

In listening to my body, I am not finding angst over this apparent emptiness but rather peace. It is okay to find the edge of myself where, without letting God expand the border, I would not go any farther. I cannot push any farther but I am residing on the border of as-far-as-I-can-go and the-territory-of-where-God-will-take-me-next.  I am hearing Him tell me to rest on this border.

I am also hearing I should not retreat. A retreat into indulgence to relieve this emptiness would thwart the work God is intending. My past patterns when faced with weariness is to indulge in something that blunts the aloneness of this kind of desert. I sense Him inviting me to wait with Him on this desert edge and breathe in the beauty of simply being with Him.

Timing is critical, or the lack thereof. Checking my watch, metaphorically speaking, is to mark the time and He is asking me to enter into His timelessness. When He chooses to move me past the border is up to Him. In this holy timelessness I find satisfaction and peace for the emptiness. It is not up to me to refill my soul, I just need to drink from whatever cup He brings that will replenish what is depleted.

Without gentleness directed towards myself, this would be an uncomfortable place. I normally deal harshly with myself but some of this week’s work has been about gentleness. This is a new and serene oasis I once thought was not for me. I am liking this space God has created for me on the edge of what is to come.

Threshold

It has been a very long time since I've written anything here. I am currently sitting outside with my dog Murphy finishing up a very fine cigar. I came out to finish up an assignment for the class I am taking for my Spiritual Direction program that I am enrolled in. It is a program that is consuming much of my time. It is a place of threshold.

Threshold space is that place of movement from one room to another. We move through them so quickly that we don't take the moment to understand what we are doing. If we move from one room to another we don't give that fraction of a second any thought at all. We've simply moved from one room to another.

There are times of threshold space in our lives. The birth of our first child was one of those times. We moved from not having a child to the life of always having a child. She is now 36 years old and we've added our son, he is 34. I can hardly remember the almost 5 years we had without children but it was a room of time we occupied.  It is a room forever left behind.

My wife and I are in another threshold space. It involves caring for our aged parents. My mother celebrated her 92nd birthday yesterday. She is in the slow decline of heart failure and needs oxygen nearly all day to keep her waning energy level up. My mother in law, who lives with us, turned 87 in June. She is in good health but mentally is slowing down. It is not always easy to live with. My father in law tuned 82 in May. His health is precarious and has had a rough summer with various issues. It is a time between having our parents with us and not having them. There is a tension in this threshold space as we care for them and as we care for the eventual loss that is clearly on the horizon.

I've also been in a prolonged threshold space in regards to my desire to be a Spiritual Director. I started this journey in 2010 when I worked one on one with my friend Tara who taught me much about this practice. It is a calling though, not just a practice. It started with God asking me, "What does it look like to partner with someone encouraging them into intimacy with Me?"  That is the calling part of this and is an outgrowth of my own personal awakening into a life of deep communion with this Other who loves us so dearly, deeply and lavishly.

After three years Tara encouraged me to enroll in a formal program. Encourage really isn't a strong enough word but it will suffice for now! She suggested a couple programs and I applied and was accepted into a program based here in California.

It is a year of threshold.  I have left one room but have not arrived yet into another.  This space is vital. I honestly don't know what the room I am preparing to enter will look like. This is not an easy discipline to understand by those of us who have grown up in Evangelical Protestant faith communities. I still struggle with articulating what I do when I meet with folk one on one in direction.

I'm not writing to explain but would like to encourage any who find themselves in threshold spaces. It is an uncomfortable place to be, a place of waiting but also a place of crafting. God is crafting me for what He is bringing. Thus far I've gone through five courses, four weeks each.  The first four courses flew by and I found much that I resonated with. It was God naming so much of what the two of us had already been doing in my time in the park each morning.

However, this last class, Theological Reflection, brought me to frustration, tears and the temptation to quit. At one point I emailed the instructor and told him I was opting out of involvement in the class. I told him I would read but felt completely at a loss as to what we were doing and where this was headed. His kind response encouraged me to stay the course, that from his perspective, all that I'd already written had shown the proficiency he was looking for.  I stuck it out and today finished writing my final reflection paper much, much richer for the experience.

Threshold space is hard in that these are the times of uncertainty where we have to trust what God is doing. It may be a time of apparent nothingness, like sitting in a waiting room. But if we are attuned to His leading us in this space we will learn much we wouldn't learn otherwise. It is important, fruitful time.

I am writing this thinking about friends who are currently unemployed.  Few things define threshold better than those fearful times.  You are not alone.  I can't wave a magic wand nor speak words that will allay your fears.  I simply want you to know, I am with you. It is in these times when the companion of a good director helps as the frustration mounts.

I am also thinking of those who have suffered loss of loved ones. Again, it is an important time of threshold.  Don't go it alone. We are called as Christ followers to come along side.  Don't mourn alone.

Actually, as I write this, I am aware that God is in the community we live in. We are all broken and need the time of threshold we may find ourselves in but we need to know we are not alone. God gave me the community of my fellow students to encourage me, in fact many felt similar frustrations with the recent course.  Sometimes that is what we need, fellow travelers on the way.

Curtain

I've been in a few earthquakes, minor temblors really. My most memorable was a couple of weeks after my daughter was born.  We were living in San Francisco at the time and I was working down town at a bank. When the building I was in began to shake, a woman screamed and dove under her desk.  It was a fairly sharp jolt.  My wife remembers she was feeding our daughter and at first felt dizzy, attributing it to her recent birth experience. She realized it was an earthquake when the building we lived in started to moan. The shaking grew to an alarming level followed by sirens rushing around the streets. Thankfully there was no damage.

It was not my first nor my last earthquake, after all, I live in California. In all the minor temblors I've experienced, there is one thing I have never seen, a torn curtain caused solely by the quake. Granted, I've never lived through a major event but I doubt a torn curtain would come as a direct result of an earthquake. Perhaps falling debris could tear a curtain but it is more likely a curtain would fall rather than tear.

We've recently celebrated Easter and there is one detail about those days I've rarely heard mentioned, the tearing of the curtain separating the Holy of Holies in the temple from top to bottom.

Imagine you are one of the priests who'd schemed to have an itinerate, backwater rabbi who'd caused you nothing but trouble handed over to Rome for crucifixtion. You are finally rid of the man who'd been making blasphemous claims about himself, shocking and scandalous claims that were a deep afront to your piety.  For some time all the ruling class of priests of which you belong had tried unsuccessfully to trap this man. Finally the deed had been done; he'd been arrested, tried and handed over to the Romans for crucifixtion where, as far as you knew, he hung outside of Jerusalem. You'd had moments of unease and doubts but Caiaphas had finally convinced you it was necessary for one man to die for the good of many.

Now you are tired, emotionally and mentally spent but relief of ridding yourself of the troublesome rabbi eludes you. You want to move on as if his life and words never existed but the evidence of his miracles offers a troubling counterpoint to your belief he was a fraud, or worse, empowered by demonic activity.

All of these thoughts swirl about you as the day turns more ominous. Darkness descends making it night time in the middle of the day. An earthquake strikes and the city is gripped by fear. Somewhere deep inside you dread arises as you realize this is no coincidence. "Surely that man is still hanging on the cross? No one dies a merciful death there and it has only been a few hours since the cross had been erected.", you think.

Word races through the priestly circles and finds your ear, the unthinkable has happened.  The palm-thick curtain separating the Holy of Holies has been rent in two, top to bottom. It's as if someone rent the curtain with their bare hands but the thickness of the veil dismisses that possibility. No earthquake alone could have produced such an event.  You are stunned and can only think of the man on the cross, the one you helped put there.

So here we are, some 2000+ years later with this oft overlooked fact in the Easter story. We understand the significance of the torn curtain eventhough the religious elite of Jesus' day did not. We are now free to enter boldly into the Holy of Holies, and while I still believe an exercise of awe, wonder and reverence are appropriate postures, there is now the possibility of relationship with God.  I also believe there is a release outward from this Holy place as well. It is an outward flow of wonder, light, joy and mystery that invites us deeper to Him.  His presence is sent outward for those seeking John 10:10 life.

Incarnational living is offered for those who will believe, love and obey the itinerate carpenter-rabbi who caused so much consternation and disruption among the religious ruling class.

But what of the curtain? I do wonder if we, in our attempt at codifying this life with Jesus into a set of rules and regulations, are not attempting to re-sew the torn curtain? How dare we attempt such a thing when the torn curtain and all it represents was accomplished at the cost of a flayed back, crown of thorns and nails in flesh! How dare we!

*$&#*$(#*$)(#)($*!

Its not been a good winter for flying. Some time ago I saw a post on Facebook written by an acquantence. Evidently he was back east for business and was trying to get home. He was stuck in some ariport and posted his frustration ending his post with "*$&#*$(#*$)(#)($*! "  As part of the human race I understand the frustration. Don't we all?

I recently read that it is in these situations where the truth about the condition of our heart breaks out. We'd like to think when we turn our lives over to Jesus that the ugliness that might come pouring forth in these situations has been swept away.  But that is not the case. It is at these times when my own frustrations have mounted and I say or do regrettable things I realize how much I need Jesus to be formed in me.

At those times of being stranded at an airport, helpless against the vagaries of weather or mechanical breakdowns that we have the opportunity to step back and invite Him deeper to those places in our hearts. Sitting here in the very early morning in my park, it is easy to write this. I will probably need to read this next time I fly the frustrating airways.

No amount of Biblical thought and correct theology will remedy our hearts unless we obey Jesus to first love Him, to invite Him deeper into intimacy with us. It is at that place where true formation occurs.

Another thought occurred as I thought of my friend's plight. He is a dad to several pre-schoolers. Much of what he posts on Facebook are snippets of conversations with his children. Stuck in the airport, he simply longed to be home with them. It made me think of our Father's longing for us, His children.

Imagine, if you will, you consider every human being that has ever walked this earth to be your child. Now imagine that you want them home with you so you can provide them everything needed for them and to be with you. But the vast majority ignore every advance you make and your complete offer of intimacy with them is rejected. In fact, most blame you for everything that goes wrong in their lives. This goes on year after year until thousands of years of rejection have piled up. Yet, you still long with an aching heart for all your children, not just some, to come home to you. That is the Father's heart for this world.

Imagine also His longing for the few who do say "Yes" to His offer only for some to go on as if nothing has happened, they simply see the offer as a ticket for the afterlife. He longs for us to move into loving Him NOW!

Imagine His heart of longing for those who construct elaborate religious systems thinking this is the way to His heart. Rules of sin management are established and attempts at following the rules are made. But all along what He wants is for us to sit and sup with Him. He stands at the door and knocks but His children are too busy keeping the rules and telling others how to run their lives that they don't hear the gentle knocking in their own hearts.

He longs for us to stop and listen to His still, small, yet powerful voice in the recesses of our hearts. Listening and obeying in the context of intimacy with a Father who adores us is what He longs for. That is a deeper thing to ponder when we are far from home, our own longing for home producing frustration in the face of uncontrollable obstacles.

Rather than "*$&#*$(#*$)(#)($*!" , perhaps it is best to ask Him, "Father, what do you want to show me?" Invite Him into the frustration and let Him heal the brokenness.