meeting YHWH

DSC_1548_2When you come over the ridge and see the big sea that first time

you grow in your being to contain the sight.

Today, I came over the ridge and the grey blue flooded me

rising to my ears with a theme, singing my eyes away to the grey shining over the water:

Who made us all

is unseen and unmade,

Yet to see Him, trust

to touch Him, love

and do not let your gazing fall.

the WHY

Bride and Bridegroom Our StoryThe Seven Longings of the Human Heart by Mike Bickle

Accident

Snow had been falling since I finished work.  It was powdery and the air was bitterly cold, everything stilled to stone by it, quiet and lifeless.  When I left for home from my friend Tara’s, my mind was still wandering the stoic halls of a monastery from a movie we had watched.  I inhaled the icy air, starting my car, and my lungs became like loveless stone walls themselves.  Cold slows the world into her sleep, and as I drove I felt her hands around my heart.

In the first 7 minutes on the road, I watched the surreal dance of cars, all going around me at their own speed ranging from 20 to 60 mph.  We were all passing and being left behind at the same time. I came to the exit ramp from 35W onto 10 west, which curves up to the right for a bit then, curves sharply left to cross back over the 35.

That strangeness in my heart was suddenly one with my body and I realized the car was moving:

I could do nothing.  I held the wheel and my arms moved, but I had no spacial awareness of direction or speed or distance.

“Oh God, Father help me, Father help me, Father help me!”

Screen shot 2013-02-26 at 1.54.12 AM

The moments were suspended, movement wildly uncontrolled and chemical hum rose from my stomach up through my throat.  I knew there were cars near me, but I had no idea where or how to avoid them.  Hands tight and body pressed into the seat, my car and God and I were moving.  Then we were spinning  and I saw blare of headlights through my windshield. as we heaved through drifts into the guardrail. 

Time started again and my breathing. I shook.

Becoming my own body again, with God drawn around me, I looked in the rearview and saw a car pull over, not sure if he had been behind or ahead of me when the accident started. The flashers went on and a man came walking down the shoulder toward me.

I looked ahead and the oncoming cars muddled past, like wide eyed people around a fresh fainter, hesitant and peering with headlights.  Slow down I thought at them.  I imagined a car losing control and hitting me, but then I put the thought away—I simply didn’t believe it, because God was so close to me.

I rolled down my window to meet a kind face of a young man my age, and my voice rang out a hello with a clear tone that woke me a little.  His name was Brian.

“Can I sit with you for a minute?”

“Yes, of course.” I was relieved, it was a kind question and exactly what I wanted him to do.

“I don’t want to be creepy or anything—“

“No,” I said, “You’re very kind, thank you.”

We talked through the accident and he ran through what he saw, me half listening and shaking.  He began telling me about an accident he had, and I kept responding, “Yeah?” but my eyes had caught the skid marks on the sloping curve of the ramp, and I traced through the accident.

My car was hugging the guardrail, which ended just about `15 feet ahead of my bumber.  Beyond that point, the edge of the ramp sloped down in a steep hill littered with trees, perhaps 50-75 feet down.  The sight of the tire marks made my heart pound: my car had swung over toward the steep ledge, less than two feet away, and then swerved over two lanes, to the other side of the road, spun around to face oncoming traffic and slid back again to the other side of the road, skidding parallel into the guardrail.

Had I contined a split second longer on the first swerve, I would have gone over the ledge. Had I not spun after swerving back to the left, and slid back to the right side, I would have hit the concrete half wall on the left side of the road, sitting right in the way of oncoming traffic and in their blind spot coming around the curve of the ramp.

“God saved me,” I said suddenly to Brian, with a smile, “I have a good Dad.”

I pointed out the skid marks.

“Even if I had died, it would have been okay,” I thought and spoke at the same time, dumbfounded.

I don’t know if he really heard that, he went on talking about getting me turned around while I imagined an angel standing at that ledge, pushing my car away from it.

We waited for a gap in the cars exiting on the ramp and I asked Brian to stay with me while I turned around.

“Of course.”

I pulled out away from the rail; Daddy gave me a gap with plenty of time, and I drove Brian up the ramp to his car, 25 yards. He had been in Roseville, just like me, and lived in Coon Rapids, the suburb just south of my house.  So, I thanked Brian and followed him almost the whole way home, moving slow.

Screen shot 2013-02-26 at 1.53.47 AM

The cold in my soul had vanished the moment my car hit that guardrail.  Daddy was there, and I knew immediately I was safe.  I felt more safe after the accident than I can ever remember feeling in the greatest comfort.  I was warm, body and spirit, with his affection as I drove off, and I felt his face blazing next to mine.

My heart was leaping, thrilled that death and danger had come for me, and my Father stood up with his hand raised, saying, “No. I AM.”

(true story, Saturday, February 2, 2013 at 1 a.m. )

Confession

I remember:

I didn’t choose you,

I chose me.

This agony of memory may save me; it feels more like living than happiness.

Sorrow, he will

guard me from

smallness,

God can heal you,

my only hope for you.

You are every man.

Daughter at the Hospital

She is
under
wrinkled blankets
trying to breathe
 
The air is thin with weakness
fever heats into
her hair
 
Her eyelids shut
as bare as they were born
down in their wells a storm
of blood and bone
 
The sun falls into evening
leaving me
a silent stone
I stare into her face 
lit yellow as a faded picture
 
She is stiff 
I slowly bend her leg
like a father lifting his sleeping child
She is unable
her limbs become life in my hands
they have no flaw tonight
She is rare 
one body in the world
 
I forget everything
I remember it all from the beginning
I see straight into the unending,
blessed with sorrow
 
I ran out of things
I was just with my blood, my mother
I had the right melody in my head for a day
It may have been years
 
She rode through on a remedy
of prayer infused antibiotic
Tonight I crawled in beside her
under wrinkled blankets
trying to breathe
Tagged , , ,

‘Lil Ostrem

Tagged , , , ,

Interview with Naveen

I got an email from a student I met in India (Naveen) and he asked me to answer some questions about India.  After finishing, it was quite obvious my heart wrote itself all over the interview.  A perfect little piece to share with all of you:

Naveen: What did you liked most in India?

Amy: I loved the way that many Indians lived simply and taught me to do the same, really enjoying the basics of life.  With many luxuries absent, I found myself freer and happier in many ways than when I had so many extra things to complicate life.  Even not having a shower and just using the faucet and bucket…I know it sounds funny, but I liked it that better.  I also loved the way families I met took care of each other with great commitment, especially Indian Christians I met.

Naveen: What irritates you most in India?

Amy: In a way, there were few places to rest in the city.   I speak not only in terms of rest, although it is crowded, but also in terms of peacefulness.  There were so few clean and well kept public parks or areas for Indians to take their children to play or even just to stop and enjoy the outdoors.  Dust and garbage were so frequent, and even people defecating on the side of the road.  In general, I saw a great lack of taking pride in one’s city or even house/yard…everything is just left to itself, and this creates a chaotic, unrestful feeling in the city.  I also found myself fighting mistrust because of the disrepair and disregard evidenced everywhere I went.  I found myself asking, why don’t more people here want to invest in a beautiful, peaceful, clean existence?  Doesn’t it bother them?

Naveen: Which Indian food you loved most?

Amy: I LOVED the tea…I make at home in the mornings now to remind me of India :)  My favorite rice was freshly made dhaal with rice and curd, with a banana for desert.  Your food is so fresh and my stomach actually had a hard time digesting American food when I got back, more preservatives here.

Naveen: Explain shortly about an Indian, who inspired you.

Amy: A woman named Rukmini. She is probably in her 60′s and she takes care of young disabled Indian girls who have been abandoned by their families.  She protects them from being taken advantage of, gives them medical care and physical therapy, teaches them to dress and groom themselves, gives them an education, and feeds them all on her own with God’s help.  She is tired and weary, but she gets up everyday and has the biggest heart I saw in India.  She is warm and kind, with a beautiful motherly spirit, and when I walked into her house, I felt the peace of Jesus in the air.  It is not a peace that I felt outside, but it is the kind you feel when a person’s character is full of light from God, when they do not have darkness ruling over their life.  Rukmini serves and cares for these young women when the surrounding society would at best leave them to themselves and at worst take advantage of them and use them.   She hugged me and made me food and told me her story as if she was my own mother, and she was a picture of God to me.

Naveen: Give one development idea which you want to bring into India.

Amy: So many ideas, just because my personality is one to love improving anything I see.  Even here in the States, there is so much I want to see happen in my city and my nation.  For India, I think leadership training for the young generation is the best development idea and here is why:
1. Corrupted leadership has been stealing from the Indian public.
2. These leaders are corrupted because their character is not strong, and people are electing them over and over because of ignorance.
3. Leaders change the climate of a nation, and the best hope for India to reach its full strength and use its resources well is for your generation (college and younger) to learn how to lead well.
4.  Leaders need to say no to their own desires for power, fame and money.  They must bind themselves to a duty to live an honorable life in their family AND to serve their people.  This kind of lifestyle takes years of training, because naturally, humans cause strife with each other and have weak wills that cave into their selfish desires.  The upcoming generation needs to seek training from leaders they trust and then THEY need to train people younger than them, one person at a time.  It means being honest and telling people their faults, not out of anger, but out of love for that person and wanting them to become better.  Indians need to resist any attitude of apathy, and decide that people are the most important and that the best thing for people is to be trained and disciplined to live life well.  That comes with much pain and learning, but it brings joy and peace.
5. New leaders with strong character will change India, nothing else.  Corruption breeds corruption, unless a group of leaders decides, enough is enough.  They may have to lay their lives down and sacrifice greatly for the future of their country.
Naveen: Can you give me some comments about Indian politics?
Amy: I think my development question answered this, but Indian politics reflects human nature, just as every government does.  People are born with a great pull toward evil and they need accountability to resist that and choose the loving decision, no matter how great or small they are.  A little lie you tell to a neighbor to cover your mistake has the same evil stuff in it as the politician’s scheme to put money in his own pocket.

Naveen: Can you say a few words about India, what you felt when you travelled here?

Amy: I was delighted as often as I was uncomfortable in India.  Being uncomfortable is not a bad thing unless you complain and become a worse human in the process.  I met the discomfort head on and learned so much from your way of life.  I learned how deeply my soul wants to see humans caring for each other and for the earth they have been given.  I learned how much work it takes to get past stereotypes…in many ways I had racism in my mind toward Indians and they demonstrated racism toward me, and the only way for me to get rid of that was to confess it to my Indian friends and God, and to humbly learn who Indians really are beyond my stereotypes.  Indians seemed to be sitting in a lot of ideas that have been spoken over them for years…”You are the land of contradictions, you are an apathetic people, you are chaotic and messy, you are engineers and doctors…” the list goes on.  I saw remnants of these words in your culture, but I also saw Indians who kept their word and were consistent, who cared about their fellow human beings, who kept their lives with order and dignity, who pursued their dreams for their lies.
I wanted to shout out to Indians that they should not be captives to any patterns that are harmful to them…just because things are a certain way, doesn’t mean they have to stay.  The beauty of your relationships with each other, your food and colors, your wisdom and diligence are things that should be celebrated and pursued!  You should not try to be like any other people or nation, but you should embrace your strengths and throw off the things that hinder you.  Your biggest enemy is apathy, and he is a nasty one, because the very nature of apathy says that there is nothing to fight for.  But you must contradict apathy even to fight it, you have to say no to it the moment you rise out of your chair, because every action that cares for your fellow man, works for order (not western order, but Indian order in whatever way works best for YOUR culture), and establishes peace is a blow against apathy.
 
I bless India and I will pray for you to be everything you were made to be as a people and a nation.  You can do it!
 
I have learned so much from you, and I am a better American because of my time in India.  I will never be Indian, but I have a piece of India with me and you showed me faults I could not see in myself before.  We need as much help as you do, just in different ways, so share your expertise gently and confidently with the West.
Tagged , , , ,

Dear India: A Phoetrybook

\

Tagged , , ,

Sunday in Bangaluru

My dear family, friends, readers, supporters, and strangers,

I have waited for the first moment of internet access to tell you about India.  I am sitting in our Roman Catholic guest house in the heart of Bangaluru (Bangalore)–the Indians have renamed many of their cities as a final thumb-biting at the previous British occupation, a laughable gesture among Indians and us Americans alike.  Morning prayers are rising and echoing in the open hall outside of our austere little room, which I’ve grown to love.

The simplicity of living here these few days has opened my heart to such peace—no television or showers, tile floor and white walls, thin sheets and flat mattresses.  And yet outside is moving color and dust, every square inch of the land buzzing with human life.

Indian driving will now get a paragraph of its own.  The rules are these:  Honking is a means of constant driver to driver conversation, in a jungle of bicycles, carts, motorcycles, rickshaws, mini-cars, trucks and buses.  Painted lines on the road are decoration to be ignored.  Bob and weave, if you are going faster you pass.  At anytime, you may reach out your hand inches away and give the vehicle next to you a nice pat.  Potholes, bumps, ditches, dents, ruts and sudden roadblocks are as common in India as they are complained about in the U.S. And, I will tell you, I look forward to driving every day, it is much better than any amusement park ride with the added pleasure of taking in new views with every passing second.

I have new family now, namely Brasad, Reeni, Rebekah and Shilpah.  Brasad is Reuben’s (one of my teammates and our contact in India) right-hand man who has taught me a new meaning of service and kindness.  Anything I have needed, he is right there and in his piercing brown eyes, the love of Christ is strong.  I trust him with my life and am finding myself wanting to say I would lay down my own, but I will not speak what is not tested, only hope that God’s good teaching will conform me to his standard, that I would lay down my life for my friends.  Reeni, Brasad’s beautiful wife, was my angel yesterday when I had stomach sickness and fever.  I am fine now with God’s healing hand, perfectly well, but yesterday I was overcome and she stayed with me all day, bringing me arrowroot for my stomach, telling me stories and looking after me.  Rebekah is Reuben’s wife, bold and strong with great wisdom, smiling her way into my heart and showing me the colors of God’s light India displays, hues I have not known before. Shilpah is a soft-spoken sunshine who works at The Sanctuary, a local coffee shop, the fulfillment of a believing woman’s 20-year vision.

I am changing in ways I cannot put in words and I feel the presence of Jesus strong with our team and with me.  His way of shedding light through and on me at the same time is constantly surprising.  Even being sick yesterday, I had no fear or upset about “missing” anything, because I was where I was supposed to be and he is too strong to let a circumstance delay or divert his purposes.  Every day I am giving and taking in a holy exchange, walking in the peace of God as much as I can and giving over anxieties as they come.  Fear is a stupid monster and a horrible master, and I embrace every initiative of Jesus to free me from his tyranny and release faith in my heart.

A few funnies:  Me getting sick, in my best guess, from a ‘vegetable puff’ … I should have known.  An innocent little girl by the name of Crupa (Grace) saying “Sheet” (shit) while playing angry birds for the first time.   Passing a cow in the street whose horns were literally wrapped in decorative yarn with little balls at the top.  Sitting in bed sick and listening to the Don Bosco (that’s the name of the guest house we are at) singing celebration and its highly synthesized Christian music, intermixed with Chris Tomlin, songs from The Sister Act, and old hymns.  The Indian head shake, where in to say yes to something, their head moves from side to side, much like a bobble head, in a very fluid movement, from young to old.  I am practicing mine.

Not necessarily funny, but I will say this: It is so good to eat with my hands again (shout out to Oman team from 2009), so good to eat real Indian food (Dhaal, palak paneer, biryani, naan, raita, mango juice, chai masala tea), so good to sleep at sundown and wake in the cool morning before sunrise, so good to be with family I have not known but will know forever, so good to care for and be cared for by my teammates, so good to smile and be smiled at (by Indians), so good to worship and pray.

Pray transforming encounters with God for the people we meet, that in our short time we would be able to share the gospel with those who are ready to hear, and that the light of God would CUT through the thick confusion and ambiguity perpetuated by idolatry, fatalism and hope deprivation.  Pray our stories and photographs and testimonies breathe the life of simplicity, brotherliness, and service to the United States.  Pray that we all remain healthy to work hard and love the Lord with all our heart, soul, mind and strength.  Pray that we are real with our Maker and that we boldly face each fear, so that in everything the stuff in us that will not survive eternity is let loose and that our spirits gain substance and strength in the things that will last.  Pray that we push through to take hold of everything Jesus desires and that we yield to him only and always, not mastered by anything.

I love you all, you have your own “India” to face now, wherever you may be, the powerful love of God is chasing you down, turning you over and making you new.  Be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power.  Shake off all deceit that would hold you back and enjoy the full capacity of life for the day you are in, because our Lord comes back soon and at that moment, our only desire will be the accepting gaze of his burning eyes.  Amen.

Pause or perish

Americans are used to hearing we are materialistic, along with a long string of other negative assessments.  We are also a busy people who can be found complaining at the shortness of our 24 allotted hours and realizing privately in a moment of shock how many years have passed us so quickly.

Our worries over the things of our lives run on the wheel of our constant schedules and I wonder if this is how I got to think that I provide for myself and inevitably became personally attached to my things.

Today I stopped.  What I did and how is not for any person to know, but I will share what has come of it.

I did not have a day of self-examination.  Humans are not very complicated: they are constantly pulled toward evil and they yield to it, but they also choose goodness as creatures having potential for the greatest good in their design.

Where am I on the scale?  Easy.  I love good things and do them and I hate bad things…and do them.  And sometimes I love bad things…and sometimes I hate good things.  That was the general assessment.  And then I started to see who God is: 100% goodness.

I realized how much evil I actually yield to on a regular basis.  He offered me a deal to kill the evil pull and my old life, take my name off of all the evil I’ve done, and give me a new life where we are dear to each other and I get to learn how to be good, like Him.  Of course, i accepted.  He is the most incredible being to be with, 100% good.

I am convinced that human beings are longing for that kind of goodness, but not just the goodness as a far off non-personal existence.  They are longing for being who really is good.

That was a meaningful detour to tell you that I met my dearest friend God today in a pause.  He has taught before that I should not be so concerned with what I will eat and drink and wear because life is more than food and the body is more than clothes.  And besides, he feeds sparrows and clothes lilies, and I am far more precious than these to him.

I came across this lesson again today and cried over it, because in my busy days I had started to believe that it was me providing for myself and I became wrapped up in my food and clothes and other things.

I was starting to loose my sense of being precious to God, and that our deal included his being my Father and my learning his ways carefully.  I wept at my return to such a kind reality.

And that is why I say, pause or perish.  And while constant introspection is a short tunnel, simply learning yourself is a way out of danger.  In this situation, I have learned that a life without pausing from consumption threatens me.  The natural current of materialism and business breeds underlying insecurity (forgetting i am precious) and fatal pettiness (actively believing that life = material provisions).

It is when we step away from materials and constant activity, that we find space to realize we have a friend to whom we are very precious, and really, that is all we wanted in the first place.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,611 other followers

%d bloggers like this: