Wrestling Rest

 Out for a walk I turn toward home, going west on Palomar Street. At the top of the hill I look out over houses and traffic to admire our view of the Pacific Ocean. Above me white, puffy clouds creep in ahead of the marine layer as if torn from the front edge escaping the thick gray covering. Eventually the sky is filled with steel gray and a moist, cool air mass hovers over me. The next day, mid-morning, we were still in the gray. By afternoon the heat of the sun backed the gray mass up and off shore. I love watching the marine layer move in over land. There are times while walking from the top of Palomar toward home, I walk right out of the sunshine and under the damp gray.

Puffy clouds preceding the solid gray covering remind me of my struggle with rest and not the kind you get while sleeping. I am referring to entering the rest Christ offers and living life from that place of rest. It is hard for us to imagine. Most of us move through life with an urgency. Like clouds preceding the marine layer, I tear away at rest, getting a chunk of it here and a chunk there. I have yet to enter the full rest – the rest of deep trust – a place where I absolutely live in complete dependence on Him. And the beauty of this rest is His invitation to a restorative rest. Will I continue to tear bits and pieces of rest from a full rest of renewal or will I allow Him to fully cover me in His restorative rest?

The temptation after a long period invested in a necessary yet draining work of love is to quickly find something else to pour myself into. It takes real effort to sit with loss, sadness, slowdowns and unmet needs. This is a place for tending to our souls and to spend more time, in the Presence of Jesus, resting, renewing and listening. I often feel a false sense of guilt about not carrying the weight of a big responsibility and edge toward filling the gap with “shoulds” instead of waiting on the Lord’s invitation.

When a long, arduous work of love or a colossal deadline is completed, time is needed for releasing and preparing for where God will lead. This summer I have been invited to rest. I was a little surprised at how uncomfortable I felt with this invitation. I am less driven than the culture at large and more apt to spend time doing what others might consider a waste of time. Yet there is a low rumbling narrative telling me my value is dependent on what I do, not who I am. This message distracts me from hearing God.

Can you relate? Do you find it difficult to rest and tend your soul for any amount of time, not to mention a significant period of time? What is God’s invitation to you this summer?

This rest I am invited to is one of drawing the circle a little tighter. Tending to the relationships with myself, God and my husband are the highest priorities while waiting on God to reveal what is next. Then investing in close friendships, family relationships and the handful of people I minister to one-on-one. Not adding to or taking from but being more present in what is now.

Have you ever had a time when you knew the circle of activities must be drawn tighter? What life experience brought this about? Are you uncomfortable living with limitations? Or do you find yourself pushing against your limits, believing you should be more and do more?

In what season of life do you find yourself? Are you in between times? What are you invited to during this time? I would love to hear!

 

Photos by Laura Smith

Repurposing Unraveled Plans

 

“Work is not always required . . . there is such a thing as sacred idleness,

the cultivation of which is now fearfully neglected.” – George MacDonald

May was a well-planned month that came undone. I planned a few days of respite for myself and then a one week visit with my Mom in Texas. I got sick and never left town but got some much needed rest. Then Jim and I planned a staycation for the last week of May. My brothers-in-law were taking over the care giving of Dad Joiner for us that week. But the time set aside for staycation was meant for something altogether different. Dad Joiner passed on early Monday morning, May 23. We were able to spend time together as a family remembering, looking through photos and memorabilia and planning next steps. As many of you know it’s a long process.

How do you handle plans turned inside out? Are you open to another, higher purpose than your own?

We enter the summer season leaving behind the role of care givers (Jim being the main care giver). When I think of summer this year, I think of needing time to mourn, rest and discover what might be next for us as a couple. I think of needing the sacred idleness in the George MacDonald quote. I am not sure I know how sacred idleness looks but I mean to do a little research by attempting to practice it in my own life.

Have you discovered something of sacred idleness? I would love to hear what you have learned and how you put it into practice. Do you also need sacred idleness and how are you exploring it in your life?

I know I need my creative batteries recharged. Though I tried maintaining creative energy for blogging, I have fallen short. I enjoy coming to this space and am not ready to give up. So this summer’s blog posts may look a little different and hopefully become a bit more interactive. It would be lovely to have a conversation with you. We have plans, when time allows, to give the blog a new look and a new home. If I am brave enough, I would like to do a few Instagram live sessions. It’s hard to know if it would serve a purpose but then I won’t know until I try.

What are longing for this summer? Is there something you want to try but are stuck figuring it all out first? What helps you take the risk and try something new with a willingness to learn along the way?

I hope you will share in the comments. Many of you are reading this on FaceBook. You can also follow me on Instagram @juliejjoiner where I may attempt to go live a few times this summer.

A Blessing for Days Like These

 

Bless this present moment. It is here You are working in our lives for our good and the good of Your kingdom. Whether we find ourselves captives longing to return to normal, wrung out by pain and loss as stability crumbles beneath us, or finding a way to remain rooted in the Living Hope, may we stay focused on the Light in the darkness. The darkness cannot overcome the Light of Christ. Help us keep our eyes fixed on the Light of life.

Bless this present moment. It is here You are working in our lives for our good and the good of Your kingdom. The present has its own kind of hardship and hope. Help us soak in the truth of Your Word so we will not grow fearful from all the outside influences. May our ears be tuned to the voice of Your Spirit guiding us in the way of Wisdom.

Bless this present moment. It is here You are working in our lives for our good and the good of Your kingdom. You invite us into the ministry of reconciliation. In this place where we often feel rattled concerning our purpose, as we experience an overwhelming helplessness, may we be willing to bind the wounds of a world reflecting our brokenness one person at a time.

Bless this present moment. It is here You are working in our lives for our good and the good of Your kingdom. Give us courage to go and be light in the world remembering You have overcome the world. You told us not to fear. You gifted us with Your peace. Envelop us in the peace that passes all understanding. May we be faithful to bring all our worries to You with praise on our lips for Your faithfulness.

Bless this present moment. It is here You are working in our lives for our good and the good of Your kingdom. Enlarge our understanding of the Eternal Now. May we hold to the truth that as followers of Jesus we are eternal. Give us boldness to stand strong in the Truth.

Bless this present moment. It is here You are working in our lives for our good and the good of Your kingdom. Let us be diligent to put down markers as reminders of Your faithfulness now and forever. This is not the end of our story though we may feel overwhelmed with dread. The saints of Christ are overcomers and our story is victorious. Make us strong warriors of faith. Help us hold onto hope. Empower us by Your Spirit to “shine like stars in the universe” (Phil. 2:15). May our eyes be fixed fast upon You, forgetting ourselves, as we “hold out the word of life” (Phil. 2:16) to everyone around us.

Cultivating Hope

 

In March of 2021 on Episode 281 of “That Sounds Fun Podcast”, Annie F. Downs talked with John Eldredge about trauma. One of Eldredge’s statements, written in my journal, is still applicable a year later: “Hopelessness is the real pandemic.” Tears well up in my eyes when I consider the hopelessness of people around me. I even hear it in the voices of fellow believers.

We are bombarded with information about hopelessness. Do these stories that feed our prayers drain our souls of hope? How do we mere humans hold so much sorrow and pain in our fragile bodies? We are slowly being crushed by the weight of it all until hope leaks out of our souls, our spirits are withered, and we are given over to anxiety, fear and unbelief.

Why do I use the term unbelief? It is good to care about the world around us. It’s not all bad to be in the know. The Bible tells us to bear one another’s burdens in prayer. If my thoughts are more fixated on the chaos and trauma around me than on the One who has overcome the world, I not only lose hope, but peace as well (Phil. 4:6-7; John 6:33).

There is an underlying message in the news and it always brings into doubt the power of God. There is this unspoken question: What are the odds? We look at our lives through the lenses of the political climate, the economy or anger, and wonder what are the odds of this turning out well? In the Kingdom of God there are no odds. Life is not a gamble. God is in control. And hope does not disappoint (Romans 5:5, NASB).

Yes, we live in a world where sin seems to be in control. The reality of life on earth is that sin has consequences and the people of this world suffer from acts of darkness rooted in the hearts of humankind. We often blame God for what emerges from the dark corners of our hearts. We fill up before breakfast on the voices of those divulging news pieced together with the intent of influencing our views and responses. We are gassed with fear grenades. One. After. Another.

T. S. Eliot, who died in 1965 before the World Wide Web and cell phones, asked, “Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?” What would Eliot think today? We are inundated with multiple views of what is going on in the world. The Bible tells us “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life” (Proverbs 4:23). Let’s back up a bit and begin in verse 18 of chapter 4.

“The path of the righteous is like the first gleam of dawn,

shining ever brighter till the full light of day.

But the way of the wicked is like deep darkness;

they do not know what makes them stumble.

My son, pay attention to what I say;

listen closely to my words.

Do not let them out of your sight,

keep them within your heart;

for they are life to those who find them

and health to a man’s whole body.

Above all else, guard your heart,

for it is the wellspring of life.”

Some things that stand out to me: the righteous bring light, the words of wisdom give health to the whole body, and our hearts are the wellspring of life. Each of us must know our limits of being informed – the balance between news and the Gospel (Good News). When I can no longer bring light and life to the conversation then I have ingested too much news or traumatic information. Hope is necessary for thriving. I long to hand out hope. To know the truth of the Gospel is to know that we have hope.

What are you putting your hope in?

How do you cultivate hope in your life and your community?

In Philippians 4:8 Paul tells us to think on these things: “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable – if anything is excellent or praiseworthy – think about such things.”

When I am tied in knots about what’s going on the world, feeling fearful, and losing hope then I know I’ve overindulged on the darkness. I care. I pray. I break from listening to the media. Do you find it challenging to guard your heart above all else? What are some ways you are intentional about guarding your heart and holding onto the hope of the Gospel?

A Creeping Gloom

 

It came right in the middle of a good day. I was caught off guard. There it was, a gloominess I didn’t understand. Gloom crept out from the corners of my experience and gradually crawled up my back and clung to me. It was like walking into the edge of a large spider’s web. At first you are wildly brushing it off only to find you have been taken over by the whole of it. I tried to retrace the steps of this gloom mood to discover where it came from. What triggered this icky grayness? Over the weekend there were wonderful experiences – times when I forgot all about it, as if it had crawled off to find another victim. But during the lull of a quiet moment it would edge back towards me holding on tight.

My mind scrolls through lists of what may have sent gloom an invitation to join me. There were little losses and limits in life; but I don’t think they invited the weight of this gloom. Sometimes – no, often – we live in the middle of hard things and do not recognize their impact. I find it easier to look for a scapegoat or find an escape route through Pinterest, Instagram, and books. These are not soulful routes.

So this morning I prayerfully reclined before the Lord. He gave my gloominess a name. It is sadness. Yes, I have reasons to be sad. Living daily in the presence of dying is sad. I am not talking about death in general; it is the daily watch of a life shrinking. It is witnessing the energy of life ebbing out of a loved one. It is knowing what approaches but swinging back and forth on the rope of in-between. There is daily tension carrying with it weariness and sadness. The soul leaving the finite for the eternal finds it’s body broken down bit by bit on the way. We are witnesses to this in care-giving.

This is hard on the passenger. And it takes a toll on care-givers as they watch the body let go while they wait. Yes, the gloom grows and shrinks and grows again. Sitting in the quiet of the morning with the Lord sharing in my sadness, I recognized He is the One who holds all of our feelings. And He is the One who made us able to hold sadness alongside other feelings. I do not need to allow the sadness to consume me; I am held by my Creator even in sadness. And because of this I still encounter beauty, joy, laughter, hope, love, peace, and so many other life experiences. I am not just experiencing sadness. I love that God made us able to hold both uncomfortable feelings and hard experiences alongside comfortable feelings and lovely experiences.

Each care-giver witnessing this decline deals with it differently. Not everyone wants to talk about it. I am learning how to process my own feelings. First I had to identify and name my feelings. The gloomy mood clinging to me felt vague and unnecessary. Sadness makes more sense and I am okay letting sadness ride along in the process.

Let’s not forget how this observation of one finishing up this life on earth shakes up my thinking about my own ending. I am in the Autumn of life. In my maternal grandma’s family Autumn can last a long time. But the length of this season will not be known until I am finished here. I am in a good place in life. I have a truer sense of who I am in Christ and the gifts He has given me to serve. I am excited about the work I do with people and about writing. But I tire out quicker at 62 than I did at 22. Our bodies change. I don’t want to run down before I have run out. Or I should say I hope to run out in doing what I love to do before my body completely runs down. None of us knows when that time will be.

So here I am talking about something many don’t like to talk about. Maybe you don’t like this conversation. I am sorry if this is uncomfortable. I need to talk about it and prefer preparing. I like how Jean Fleming writes about this time of life in her book, Pursue the Intentional Life. “This can be my time of greatest growth in Christ, the final stretch to the finish line, a time to put away every stale and self-protective barrier and make a dash for the tape. My best years, my richest insights, a time of quiet fruitfulness, various and ripe – my deepest experiences of Christ are still ahead of me. This is my eager expectation. This is my time of ripened fruit and flight, living increasingly in the reality of the resurrection life, my heart and mind set on things above, earnest and ready, expectant and alert” (p. 37).

Invested in the care of one whose last thread of life is about to break and release him into eternity prompts me to think about how I want this season in my life to look, to make it count for all its worth, and be intentional in the way I live and love. Care-giving is an opportunity to pause on the precipice of this assumed season in my life and plan for how I want to live it and how to prepare that I might die well, whatever it looks like. And in between here and there I want to be conscious of spending my time on the best things and not on the lesser.

You Can Walk On Water Or You Can Panic

 

Have you ever nearly drowned? If not, I imagine you can bring to mind times when you felt yourself drowning in emotional pain, care taking, big changes, loss, etc. What distracts you from gazing on the fullness, peace and grace of Jesus which keeps you from sinking? Have you ever seen Yongsung Kim’s painting, “Calling”? If you have not, I encourage you to look it up online. The unique view of looking up from beneath the water and seeing the hand of Jesus reaching down to save fills me with hope.

A couple weeks ago I spent time reading and meditating on Matthew 14:22-33. Jesus just fed 5,000 men along with their families by multiplying 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish. Immediately following this miraculous meal, Jesus made the disciples get into a boat and sent them off to the other side of the lake. Jesus remained to dismiss the crowd then climbed the mountain for solitude and prayer.

I wonder how the disciples felt being hustled off onto the boat. Imagine you in their place. How would you feel and what would you say or do? I would offer to stay and help. That’s a lot of people to dismiss alone. Hear the pride? It is possible Jesus was protecting His disciples. The crowd wanted to make Jesus king and resisting His direction to get in the boat would be to miss out on His protection from the disciples’ wavering idea of Him.

One summer while on a family camping trip in Colorado, I rafted down the Poudre Canyon River. Someone had signed me up for this white water adventure. I don’t blame him for my experience. I had never gone white water rafting nor had most of the others. We were signed up for level 4 rafting. Level 4 is for experienced rafters with strength for paddling through rough waters and narrow passages. I was afraid and uncertain but didn’t resist going where I was not prepared to go.

In Matthew’s passage, we see Jesus on the mountain in silence and solitude juxtaposed to the disciples in the boat “buffeted by the waves because [of] the wind.” Rowing against the tempestuous waves required great strength. They were a long way from land. Not all the disciples had been fishermen and it was quite possible a number of them were inexperienced rowers and little help.

 

Inexperienced, we sat in our rafts buckled up in life jackets being quickly schooled on what this experience would require of us. Though we were warned of the possibility of going over and the need to stay calm and let ourselves be carried by the current, in my naivete I didn’t expect anything to go wrong. We began slow and easy. I learned quickly to keep my feet tucked in under the inside lip of the raft; the bumpiness of the smaller rapids could easily propel you out of the boat. About halfway through the trip the guide warned us we were going to enter a narrow space between a rock wall and boulders in the river. The water rushed between the two. As we entered the curve of the river, the rapid was intense and we needed to tip up on the right side to get through. If we did this well we would come out of the tight corridor right side up. We did not do well; we tipped over completely.

The disciples were still struggling in the early morning hours when Jesus came towards them, walking on the water. They were frightened; they thought He was a ghost. Jesus spoke to them saying, “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.” Each of these short, complete sentences have something to say to us. The shorter version is that Peter believed – he believed enough to say, “Lord if it is you tell me to come to you on the water.” If you’ve read this passage, you know what happened to Peter. First, Peter accepted Jesus’ invitation and he climbed out of the boat. He miraculously walked on water toward His Lord but then became distracted by the waves. He became afraid and in that moment he went under.

The raft seemed to tip in slow motion. My son-in-law had the presence of mind to take a deep breath. I still hadn’t accepted something could go wrong and did not prepare myself to go under. I was completely taken by surprise. As soon as I submerged in the intensely agitated water, I panicked. I thought for one second, “It’s not good to panic.” But I couldn’t get hold of myself. I was reaching and grasping for anything and gasping for air. I bumped into the bottom of the raft and hoped for an air pocket. The rushing water filled every inch of space. The second time I bumped into the bottom of the raft was the same. I thought to myself, “I might not make it.”

What did Peter do when he found himself going down into the rough water? He cried out to Jesus. In desperation he refocused on the Lord. Jesus in His tender, loving mercy “reached out a hand and caught him.” And he asked, “Why did you doubt?”

Though nervous, I had taken the warnings lightly. I just didn’t believe anything would go wrong on my trip down the river. Why did I panic when I knew it was the worst way to handle the situation? Where was my faith? Just as suddenly as I considered not making it, I bobbed up out from under the raft, the last person to surface. The current pushed me toward the other rafters waiting along the edge of the river. Looking up at my son-in-law I said, “Get me out of here!” He reached down and pulled me into the raft. I was shaken. I was coughing. I was gasping for air. The guide handled me with gentleness and offered me an out but strongly urged I complete the trip. I knew if I quit, I would forever be afraid of any water sport.

I wasn’t sure I could continue. My family had watched and waited for me to emerge from the water alive. They were now watching to see what I would do with my fear. I was free to get on the bus alongside the river and mosey down the mountain whimpering. I chose to finish the trip and was grateful I did. But I could not shake the fact that I gave into panic. I don’t recall how I prayed during my panic. I wasn’t thinking clearly at all.

When have you been overwhelmed with fear? Were you able to call out to Jesus? How long did you struggle before you remembered He was there? I was desperate under the water. When I take my gaze off Jesus and give into fear, I am paralyzed to trust or do what is best no matter what is taking me under. We had instructions on how to handle a spill in the river. We were to relax and float with the current. The guides would have rafts on the side of the river where the current would carry us. Like Peter looking at the waves instead of Jesus, I let the fear of the river keep me from trusting in the guidance I had been given.

Maybe you are overwhelmed by circumstances in your life. What is God’s invitation to you in the midst of your turmoil? What helps you return your gaze upon Jesus? Peter was right there with Jesus and yet he looked away. We do this sometimes; we get distracted by the things larger than our abilities to handle. We forget who invites us to walk on water and makes it possible.

The Aha of Epiphany

 

New Year’s Eve is not something I celebrate. I don’t stay up until midnight. Some may find me a bit boring but since I was a young teen I’ve been more inclined to get up early on the first day of the new year and reflect. I am not one to make resolutions. I like to look back over the year: the highlights, the losses, the lessons, etc. Every morning is a chance to begin again. Reflecting on the whole year helps me remember what happened in my life when it became a blur. It’s a time to make lists, journal and pray. It’s a time to listen for God’s invitation on how best to invest my life in the days ahead. This can be a lovely time but it can also be convicting and lead to some necessary heart cleansing. It often takes me several days.

January 6 was Epiphany*. I did not grow up in a church culture that followed the Church calendar. I did not know Epiphany was a special day; I thought epiphany was an aha moment. It turns out it is both. So on the day of the Feast of the Epiphany I had an epiphany. Earlier in the week I had some news – news that sparked a bit of envy in me. I was confessing this to the Lord on January 6. While I was lamenting over my struggle with envy the Holy Spirit prompted me to remember Isaiah 43:18 – 19. I picked up my Bible and flipped to the passage. Someone else is getting what I have longed for but in Isaiah I am reminded that God is now doing a new thing in my life.

“Forget the former things;

do not dwell on the past.

See, I am doing a new thing!

Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in desert

and streams in the wasteland.”

Now. In my circumstances right now He is doing a new thing. One day over lunch with a friend I shared this. Her eyes widened. The same verse has been speaking to her. She told me that God made it clear to her that the “new thing” is internal. I needed that reminder. Often I am looking for the next thing, a new thing outside my circumstances, but God is always working a new thing inside me in the place where He has placed me. He wants to do a new thing for you too.

In the book Living into Community, Christine D. Pohl shares the words of Kevin Rains, Vineyard pastor, “How many times have I wished I were somewhere else where God was REALLY moving? How many times have I longed to be in a more beautiful place (with mountains or an ocean) and abandon the urban neighborhood where I live? How many times have I fantasized about the perfect fellowship where everyone got along like a perfect family.” Rains calls this type of longing “spiritual pornography” and declares it poison. The truth of this is jolting! It can be hard to break free of creating an idol of an imagined perfect life. Yet one must break free or be sucked into the deep muddy mess of this lie. Anyone else raising a hand here?

It reminds me of when I was a little girl and we moved to the country. Our house was newly built so the land around was a bit torn up – no landscaping, just dirt and trees. When it rained there would be big muddy patches throughout the yard. Of course, my brother and I had to go outside and explore wearing our galoshes. It wasn’t long before one of us would be helplessly standing on one foot while one boot was left behind stuck in the mud. We would try to help one another but inevitably ended up yelling for mom to come to the rescue. That picture pops into my mind when I think of Kevin Rain’s longing, so often matching mine, for a ‘perfect life’ and leaving the one I am living behind.

I have moved a number of times. Some of you have moved much more than I. If we are honest with ourselves, we have yet to discover whatever it is we long for with envy when we are looking for something better than this. Every place I lived or church I attended had challenges but there was also great good. Once I wrote down all the places I remembered living and made a list of what I appreciated and missed about each. Places I longed to leave at one time left imprints of beauty and joy in my life, I just had not appreciated them as much while living there.

This year I want my greatest longing to be directed towards God and the new thing He is doing in my life here and now. I leave with this verse from Ezekiel – a reminder that God deserves more than a divided heart. Ezekiel 11:19, “I will give them an undivided heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh.” The note in my Bible says, “God offers holiness to his rebellious people: a new heart wholly devoted and faithful to him alone and new spiritual empowerment to live only for him.” Anyone else want to celebrate 2022 by living into a new spirit with a heart of flesh? Would love to hear what you left behind in 2021 and what you hope to bring into 2022. He goes before us!

*“Now the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6”, writes Bobby Gross in Living the Christian Year (pp 83, 84), “brings this theme to culmination – the light of Christ made manifest to the whole world as symbolized by the Gentile Magi from the East. Thus the day of Epiphany and the season that follows complete what is sometimes called in the liturgical year the Cycle of Light.” He explains how this manifests in our current culture. “Epiphany is a season for seeing more of Christ’s glory by focusing on his life and mission. Simultaneously, it’s a time for making that glory better known to those around us. We bear witness to what we have seen and learned and experienced.”