Life's Essence

Something happened this week that caused me to hit the pause button for a moment.

In what seems like a lifetime ago through one lens and a minute ago through another, upon receiving word of a good friend passing away, my heart has been transported back to a time and place where I haven’t physically resided for many years.

The memories created between our two families came flooding back to my mind; fond memories of true friendship and now great grief at the loss of a man we called friend.  

The present demands of current circumstances often cause memories to fade as we attempt to establish new friendships in new environments.

Time continues to propel us forward, but the amazing human heart never forgets.

Though times change and people change, a person's essence does not change in the memories of those who have crossed paths with them at different junctures in their journeys.

Essence is defined as “the intrinsic nature or indispensable quality of something, especially something abstract, that determines its character.”

It is the essence of this man and his incredible wife that I have been pondering all week.  I remember the way she stared into his eyes like a star-struck school girl whenever her husband spoke.  And the way she laughed at his jokes giving him her full attention.  I remember his wit, his humor, his sarcasm, and his tough exterior that was nothing at all like the warm teddy bear he was once you got to know him. I remember his tenacious spirit and his deep love for his children and wife.  I remember two incredible people who somehow together embodied a beautiful picture of what marriage could and should look like—even in a broken and messy world.  

The amazing human heart fights hard to help us remember what truly matters: people.  Whether we know a person for a minute or for a lifetime, the impact they leave in their absence—their essence— can be unforgettable. 

Each new day provides us with ample opportunity to recognize those whom we value and treasure.  Opportunities that may not present themselves twice must be grabbed tightly with both hands because, as we all know, life is fragile, short and unpredictable.

May those whom we encounter in what may appear to be insignificant moments in our lives be blessed by the gift of the essence of life flowing through us as we keep our eyes fixed on the Giver of Life.

My heart grieves the loss of one who followed hard after the heart of Jesus. Though his wife, children, family and friends mourn the loss of his physical presence here on earth; the true essence of the man will be forever carried in each one of our hearts, never to be forgotten. 

Stay the Course…

Sheila

The Truth About Healing

(This blog post is longer than usual.  I hope you will read it through and if it doesn't pertain to you, that you will share it with a person who might be given a glimpse of hope regarding church hurts.)

Throughout the different stages of my own personal story of church healing, a journey which I still find myself wrestling through from time to time, I have realized a few truths that may prove helpful for others when relating to a bedraggled, wounded believer such as me.

When a person has been hurt by the church, they may not only struggle with those within the church who have hurt them but also with anyone who claims to be a Christian.  It’s not fair, but once trust has been broken, keeping those connected to the church at a distance becomes an automatic default mechanism for safety’s sake.

A gesture as innocent as a well-meaning individual telling a wounded believer that time heals, or that one must forgive, even when conveyed in the most caring tone is sure to feel like a stab to the heart.  What we hear from our severed hearts is that we should just “be ok” and get over our pain. The impending reminder of our failure to move forward reopens the floodgate to the verbal, spiritual or emotional abuse received by a past person or persons in authority, often a pastor.

The truth about a wounded believer is that we are an angry lot.  Instead of being left alone by church leadership so that we can “heal,” we need to be pursued.  We are in desperate need of a man of the cloth who is not willing to wait for us to ask for help, because we won’t.  We need to know that we are worth fighting for—not so that we can be useful to the church but so that we can be well. 

When a wounded person enters a new church with hopes of a fresh start, they can prove to be very difficult to read.  Body language threatens anyone to come close while the hurting voice within begs for acceptance. Often, unwittingly at times, church critics within the four walls watch from a safe distance asking, “Who does she think she is?” or whispers circulate that a person is unfriendly or an ice-princess.

Who DOES she think she is? The truth is that she doesn’t think that she is anyone at all; that is what she has been told by a brother or sister in Christ. The truth is that she appears to be cold, calloused and uncaring because she is afraid and unsure how to allow anyone close again for fear of re-opening her wounds.  Often times, the sight of a wounded saint unable to pretend they are well is more than a church is willing or equipped to embrace. 

A simple worship song intended to draw one closer to God triggers memories from long before her world unraveled; a time when she had unwaveringly believed each word she sang. Now, instead, she stands motionless, staring blankly at nothing, praying only for the song to end.

Throughout the sermon, a single word or phrase has the ability to re-open a not-yet-healed wound so quickly that fear and nausea overwhelm her anxious heart. She attempts to find the quickest exit, pushing quickly through the sanctuary after the last “amen” not because she is an ice princess but for fear of hurting another with the sharpened knife of her own tongue.

Although it appears that she hates the church, the truth is that she longs for the church (though she wishes she did not). Longing for acceptance for who she is, without merit, seems as unobtainable as jumping hurdles at the Olympics. The truth is that once a person has been deeply wounded by the church, they are never the same.  This truth is scary and makes a wounded believer wonder if they will ever be able to embrace their new identity.

True healing begins and ends in the sanctuary of our own prayer closets; only the Holy Spirit brings healing. It is on our knees where we learn than no person can nor should be to us what only our Maker can be—and so we wait for the Lord to renew our strength.

The power of the Holy Spirit enables us to re-enter God’s church; a healthy church. This is what the wounded search for; a church offering grace and patience in lieu of judgment or condemnation.

Sadly, many wounded solder’s turn away from instead of to the church.  The vulnerability required to re-enter a place that no longer feels safe can prove to be crippling.  And so, Satan continues to pluck God’s isolated children from the church; which is why the wounded must be pursued.

The truth about healing is that it takes time. A lot of time. Those brave enough to stay the course of the healing process do not determine the timeline for healing. Broken trust may take years to reconcile.

Jesus did not come for the well but for the sick and broken- He calls His church to do the same. Both within and without of the church walls.

Wounded soldiers, inflicted with life-threatening wounds from their own comrades lie in cold ditches, lost identity and lost voices, all used up, questioning everything they once believed.  The truth is that the church needs to care.

It’s time to rise up as the true church of God: relentlessly loving, relentlessly pursuing, relentlessly caring for and relentlessly standing in the gap fighting for freedom and healing for our brother’s and sister’s in Christ.

Ice Princess returns week after week with the hope that the church will embrace its true purpose; with the hope that the church will embrace her.

Stay the Course…

Sheila

Paradigm Switch

Over the last few years I have been doing a lot of thinking, praying and reading about both church ministry and vocational ministry.

Most of my adult life has been spent participating in different ministries within the church walls while still working throughout the week in my chosen vocation.  Truth be told, my work week never felt quite as significant as my within-the-church work.  

In working through the issue of what I had come to accept was most important in regard to my effort and time; I have discovered that I am experiencing a paradigm switch—please hear me out.

God has given each of us different skills and talents, that’s undeniable.  Being gifted with a skill set that benefits the world in ways that appear to have nothing to do with church ministry is where I kept getting tripped up.  In my erroneous thinking, I had believed that church ministry was more important than vocation.

Church ministry is not more important than our vocations and here’s why—they are both ministry.  We are called to reach the lost, to be a light in the darkness, to use the talents we have been given and to love as Jesus loved.  

In working through this concept over the past months I have noticed an end to the restlessness I had thought was simply a part of my DNA.  I have also been more clearly able to see my own humanity in working through why I had ever thought church ministry should supersede vocational ministry in the first place: being involved in church ministry somehow made me FEEL important.  That’s a big difference from believing church ministry to BE more important. 

How far the heart can stray from the heart of the One who led a life of selfless humility.  

Turns out working through my own personal church issues has become a very long but necessary road.  What felt like personal failure within the walls of the church has turned out to be a gift from God.  Being stripped of church importance and learning about humility may be the best thing that has ever happened to this writer.

I am beginning to enjoy being a part of a church again.  Not because of anything I have to offer but because I am a part of the family of God.  Maybe if I started treating my fellow church attenders with the same unmerited grace and love God has shown to me over the years, my idea of church ministry would be more in sync with Jesus' idea of ministry: serving unselfishly from a humble heart of love.

In regard to vocational ministry, I am finding genuine pleasure throughout the week in serving my clients as a true act of worship to God. There is no spot light, no glamour and no audience.  Well, except for my audience of One.  And I have to say, I think He’s ok with my paradigm switch. 

Stay the Course…

Sheila

e·rad·i·cate

There are words whose meanings can frighten or enlighten depending on the word’s context, such as the word eradicate.

Eradicate means to “destroy completely; put an end to.” “Obliterate.” “Pull up by the roots.” “To kiss it goodbye.”

The Old Testament doesn’t disappoint in the eradication department.  We barely start reading the book of Genesis when God says to Noah, “I am going to put an end to all people, for the earth is filled with violence because of them. I am surely going to destroy both them and the earth.” (Genesis 6:13)

By destroying both man and earth, God eradicated, or pulled up by the roots, the problem with the world.

If there were movies in the days of Genesis, this movie would have been called, “The Eradicator,” starring the Lord God Almighty.  

We are given examples throughout the Old Testament of God eradicating evil and defending both individuals and families who chose to serve Him.  It’s fascinating to read about the lives of those who lived for their own glory in comparison to those who lived their lives in surrender to God to bring Him alone glory. God was not shy in pulling up evil by the roots when necessary.

As we transition from Old Testament to New Testament we see, thankfully, that the One who sent floodwaters on the earth to destroy all life is the same One who sent His only Son to atone for the sins of the world.  Like Father, like Son. Jesus came to seek and save the lost and to eradicate sin once and for all with the sacrifice of His own blood—His very life.

The Innocent sacrificed for the guilty; the only solution for the world.

Jesus lived His life to fulfill the will of His Father; we are told to do the same.  Jesus both took away the sins of the world AND gave us the gift of salvation and of His Spirit.  If we accept His gift of salvation, we become dead to sin and alive to Christ.  This New Testament action movie would be titled, “Eradicator II.” A guaranteed smash hit at the box office for those who understand the implications had Jesus NOT chosen to be the obedient Eradicator.

In Hebrews, we are given a call to persevere: “You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised. For in just a very little while, “He who is coming will come and will not delay. But my righteous one will live by faith. And if he shrinks back, I will not be pleased with him.” But we are not of those who shrink back and are destroyed, but of those who believe and are saved.” (Hebrews 10:36-39)

One day soon, the Great Eradicator will return for a final glorious display of power as He destroys Satan, the god of this age.  Satan and his world of evil will be obliterated, pulled up from the roots - thrown into the eternal fires of hell.

The final radical eradication by the Righteous Lamb of God.

Stay the Course…

Sheila

The Significance of Insignificance

I wrote this story several years ago simply to express what I was feeling but chose to keep it to myself as it felt, in the writing, that I was feeling somewhat sorry for myself.  Looking back, however, I can see the beauty of what God was allowing me to experience and the necessity of being able to share real feelings even when those feelings are not warm and fuzzy.  I hope you will be able to see the beauty in the sharing of the significance of insignificance as it relates to your own journey.  

Sometimes we are led on a journey that feels very much against our better judgment to embark upon.  We are led through the desert sands; surrounded on every side by desolation and barrenness. The journey is one of great loneliness with views of scorched ground and probing wind as far as the eye can see.

Life appears to be happening all around me during this season of walking the desert; yet the green paths are not accessible to me as my path leads further down into the dry desert sands.

Others pass by as they veer to the left or to the right onto paths leading to lush green landscapes, bubbling brooks and cool shade; but I am not given permission to follow others on their journey.  

Instead, I must press on and feel the full heat of the sand on my feet and the afternoon sun on my face.  I fear I may not make it through another day.

Life becomes unbearable as each day attempts to knock me down and keep me down.  There is no end in sight.  My plans and goals for the future are forgotten as I simply strive to survive the next step in front of me.  Gone are dreams; instead, one word forces its way past my dry throat and parched lips—“insignificant.”

There was a season when I felt God’s favor and blessing on everything that my hands touched and my eyes beheld.  Blue skies and green pastures filled my vision from every mountain top experience.  Seasons have a way of changing; if we are not paying attention they can catch us unaware.  I am slowly learning that I must embrace each season without questioning the One who not only made the seasons but whom also set forth the time and length for each season.

As my Maker gazes upon me and beholds me from His panoramic view, He refuses to turn His face away from His creation.  Even in the Valley of Despair, I feel His gaze.  Through my weak faith and small spirit, I beg Him to not turn away from me.  

He has shown me that He is doing a new thing.  I see only desert and feel only loss.  He has told me that never will He leave me or forsake me; I feel only loneliness.  

He shows me through His Word that He can take that which is insignificant and make it a vessel that He can use to bring glory to His name.  

This insignificant life must be emptied before it can be used to bring significance to the One for whom my heart beats unashamedly and desperately.   

I will lift up mine eyes to the Maker of all the seasons.

Stay the Course...

Sheila

Devastating Storms

Exactly 35 years ago today Wisconsin experienced one of the worst natural disasters to ever hit the Chippewa Valley- a devastating storm with winds over 100 mph and ten brief tornado touch downs.

Not to give away my age, but I was 14 years old at the time.

Our family resided on a dairy farm in the farming community of Fall Creek.  Like thousands of people, I will never forget that fateful night.  Our parents shouted for us to get to the basement as my older sister and I were instructed to grab our younger brother and sister who were asleep.  We dragged their sleepy bodies down two flights of stairs into the musty basement of our farm house as the window in our dining room shattered to pieces.

Me and my five siblings huddled together with our parents in the creepy, spider webby basement. Noises I had never heard before filled my frightful ears.  Mother instructed us firmly stating that if we had never before prayed, now was the time to start.  I don’t think I quite knew how to pray in that moment.  Instead, I stood as quiet as I could stand with the hopes that my good behavior might somehow make the madness stop. 

A large oak tree in our front yard fell to its death; thankfully falling away from the house.  The following morning brought a quiet eeriness as families emerged from their homes to survey the destruction.  Damage to agriculture and crops was devastating. Although my dad didn’t say much I knew he was deeply concerned for what lie ahead both for our family and for many families in our community.

As disasters have a way of doing; our community banded together to clean up and salvage all that we could salvage.  Neighbor helping neighbor.  Perspectives were changed over night; I felt thankful to be alive.

Devastating storms have a way of either drawing us closer to our Maker, opening our eyes to our own mortality or pushing us further away as we question why storms must be faced at all.

All these years later I am able to recollect many storms that have been faced in my own life, some literally and others spiritually, financially or physically.  And I am thankful for the lessons brought by each storm that have been forever engraved upon my heart.

In the Gospel of Luke, we enter into a literal storm with Jesus and His disciples as they are crossing the lake in a boat.  The “boat was being swamped, and they were in great danger.” (Luke 8:23)  The disciples freaked out and woke up Jesus saying, “Master, Master, we’re going to drown!” (vs. 24)

After waking up and rebuking the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided.  Jesus asked His disciples, “Where is your faith?” (vs. 25)

The storm offered the disciples two choices: respond in fear or respond in faith.  

Within each one of us, each disciple of Jesus, lies the option to respond to storms with the fear of a 14 year old who can’t remember how to pray or the faith of a soldier who understands that  devastating storms are necessary to grow us more into the character of the One who will never abandon us.

Unlike the early disciples, we do not need to run around looking for Jesus on the boat of our storms; He has given us the gift of His Spirit, a trusted Companion who is with us always.  If we don’t know how to pray we can simply ask Him and He will teach us and will intercede on our behalf.

Faith always overcomes fear as we learn to trust our Maker in the midst of our storms.

Stay the Course…

Sheila

Where The Spirit of The Lord Is

I gaze out at the airplane wing surrounded by white clouds en route to Alaska having just left a place that I once called home, a place filled with extraordinary people whom I love - Wisconsin.

As it goes with most trips, the primary purpose of the trip was accomplished.  However, often a truer purpose finds it way into our hearts slipping in from different angles along the way in the process of accomplishing one’s intended primary purpose.

Each person that I spent time with while on my trip was a person with whom I shared something invaluable; a rich history of memories that we had collected together over the expanse of time.  Both the good and the painful memories have made me and my family who we are today.

Not only did I feel the presence of God in many of my encounters with cherished friends during the trip; but not being caught up in my daily routine, I was able to see the glory of God in normal every day occurrences as well:

The sight of an old barn, cows grazing in a pasture, rolling countryside, the sound of birds chirping and the way a subtle, silent cloak of darkness hides the light of day at day’s end.  Alaska summer days begin and end with lightness— I had forgotten that Wisconsin summer nights provide a finale of darkness like a curtain closing to make certain that we know the day has come to an end.

As I stood to worship in a church I had been actively involved in many years earlier, with a dear friend whom I have known for the same length of time, I heard a soft whisper, “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”  I looked into my friend’s eyes and knew that the Spirit was speaking to her heart too.  

Instead of closing my eyes, I took in the environment the way a small child takes in the awe and wonder of his or her first carousel ride or first push in a swing.  As a gift to me in my desperate prayer of the last five years, “Father, what is church supposed to look like?” time stood still as I beheld a room full of faithful servants freely expressing their love to God.  Like no where else on earth, these were people with whom I shared history, life, laughter, tears.  These beautiful weathered saints had stayed the course, survivors of voracious storms bent on pulling them away from the four walls of the church.  Together they stood.  The pastor, more passionate and bold than I remembered, led God’s church with humility and a dose of social awkwardness. I smiled remembering his quirks as well as his faithfulness to preach God’s Word.

Where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom.  Freedom to be bold, to be awkward, to be the imperfect picture of the full perfection of Christ.  To be made strong in weakness, to stand together even when it would be easier to turn and run.  To be accountable to one another and to commit to staying committed regardless the valleys forged along the journey.  

The sound of the plane rumbles in my ears, I am full of joy knowing that God will continue to show me what His church looks like in answer to my prayer, and more importantly how to live out church in such as way as to reach those who are without hope in a dark lost world.   

God’s church is no respecter of geography; whether Wisconsin or Alaska or wherever God has placed each person geographically; His church must stand united across the continents.

Church is a place where we come together to express our love to the Creator of the mountains and of the valleys.  As we pour out our praise and worship to our King, the Spirit fills us with freedom that cannot be contained.  A freedom that is downright contagious, never intended to be kept within the walls of a place called church.

Stay the Course…

Sheila