Savoring the Stories

(This year, my church is reading chronologically through the Bible. We have an accompanying blog, which I write on from time to time. The following blog is my most recent entry posted there.)

Only one chapter today in our daily reading! A light day…hooray!

(Read Luke 10. Pause. Sit dumbfounded. Attempt to close my Bible. Reopen. Reread Luke 10. Pause. Sit dumbfounded…)

Wow, how many sermons and teachings based on this one chapter have I heard? Sending out the seventy-two. Demons submitting to them. The Good Samaritan. And the infamous Mary and Martha conflict. I confess that until this moment I didn’t realize they were all nestled into Luke 10. And I wonder, how many times have I rushed through Scripture without pondering the stories unfolding before me? Without considering the people who are involved? Without really listening to the voice of Jesus as he speaks?

These are not tall tales or fairy tales, but true tales of people who walked with Jesus, learned from him, and interacted with him. Consider the seventy-two. Jesus chooses them from the disciples following him and appoints them to go before him and prepare the way. He doesn’t send them blindly on their way, but he equips them for their mission. Then, they return to him, filled with joy, marveling at the effectiveness of their ministry: “Lord, even the demons submit to us in your name” (v. 17).

Frederick Buechner reminds me, “Whatever else they may be, the people in the Bible are real human beings,…and it is not the world of the Sunday School tract that they move through but a Dostyevskian world of darkness and light commingled, where suffering is sometimes redemptive and sometimes turns the heart to stone” (The Clown in the Belfry, p. 41). Hmmmm. Sounds a lot like the world that I am moving through. You?

Jesus’ instructions to the seventy-two establish this truth: “When you enter a town and are welcomed, eat what is offered to you…But when you enter a town and are not welcomed, go into its streets and say, ‘Even the dust of your town we wipe from our feet as a warning to you’ ” (v. 8-9). Sometimes people will welcome the light; other times, they will reject it.

He then lovingly shepherds them through the experience of both acceptance and rejection: “Whoever listens to you, listens to me; whoever rejects you rejects me” (v. 16). Success wasn’t theirs to claim, and rejection wasn’t theirs to own. It was all about Jesus. It is still all about Jesus.

We are still chosen and called for a purpose. We are still equipped and empowered by Christ within us to move through this world and speak into the lives of others. And we are still wholly dependent on him for our successes and safe in him when we face rejection.

And that’s found in just the first 17 verses of Luke 10. There are 24 more verses to consider.

A light day? Maybe not.

(Pause.)

Hooray!

Dear Students,

Recently I discovered a wonderful blog with some beautifully-written prose and poetry: littlebootsliturgies.blogspot.com. This poem was especially timely as I am in the midst of my first semester of teaching in many years, and it expresses so powerfully the truth I yearn to communicate to the high school senoirs sitting in my class. Read, enjoy, and visit Becca's blog for more of her stunning writing.

Dear Students,

My dream for you
has very little to do with grades
or test scores.

Alone, they are nothing.
They are marks on a page
that filter into systems
where marks on a page
define too much.

For the eternity I have seen
is vast and wild,
and percentages could no more capture
what I have seen in you
than a formula of space miles
could capture the glory of a million fire suns
spinning blue and gold
in that cold, far silence
where the angels dance.

My fear for you
has little to do with those raw things
people your age tend to think aloud.

On the contrary, I am thankful that you are defiant
of convention for convention's sake,
of a flat, white, faux-Jesus,
of insufficient answers,
of a life without passion
and adventure.

I am thankful because these things tell me
you have not let the drowsy drone of earth
quell your newborn scream.

You are unsatisfied, child,
as you should be
with these clay-bound earth-breaths.
Be so always.

My only grievances are these:
you do not realize how beautiful you are,
or how powerful,
or how loved.

You have given up too soon
on yourself.

You have allowed sixteen years of

flat, red marks on flat, white pages

to name you;

and you ask me to nod while you toss out words

and scratch at equations,

absently,

half-heartedly.

This I will not do.

For I have heard your true name

whispered by the great Lion,

the One Who spoke worlds into being.

He showed me
the manner of royalty you are,
men and women created for greatness.

I will expect nothing less.

~ Becca, Little Boots Liturgies

Adventuretime

We've been contemplating a move recently, and I confess that the mere thought of packing up and leaving our home of 10 years raises quite a bit of anxiety in me. Anxiety is often stalking me, waiting for me to allow it to dig in. It's never good when I give it such permission. It's not a welcome friend, but rather a nasty parasite, like a tick, that sucks the peace and joy from my heart and life.

So, recognizing the sight of this all-to-familiar foe, I began to pray against it. As I laid in bed, thinking about the move and being honest about the emotions that were stirring within me, I had this thought: "It wouldn't be an adventure if it wasn't at least a little bit scary."

That's true. By nature, an adventure requires that we step out in faith, that we take a risk, that we leave the known for the unknown. That is unsettling and scary. And it's not a bad thing.

I could chose a life of comfort and determine it's better to stay in the boat than to rock it. Yet, that is not the life I desire or the life I am called to. It's not the life that any of us are called to. We are called to follow God where he leads...and that is oftentimes surprising, unsettling, and scary. Think Abram. Moses. David. Ester. Paul...

We have heard of a local family who recently followed the call to move their family to Ghana to minister to the people there. They were obedient, and now their family of six is adjusting to this new home in a very new and different land. We have friends who are moving their family, including four little ones, to Guatemala for the next year. They will minister as they work to provide clean water to the village that they will call home for the next year.

Our upcoming adventure is nothing like these two brave, faithful families who have left everything for the sake of the call. After all, we are not leaving town, changing jobs, or trading schools. Yet, their example encourage me to live with courage, move forward (even in the uncertainties), and embrace the unknown as part of the adventure.

What a gift to have visible reminders in faithful friends of what it means to live by faith, not by sight.

44 Hours

Three years ago this month I went on my first international mission trip. And it lasted 44 hours.

No, that wasn’t the plan. Our small team from Providence intended to spend five days in Haiti ministering to a group of orphaned children. Instead, I spent one day traveling to Haiti, one day with the children, and one day traveling home. You see, a member of our team became seriously ill on our second night in Haiti, and two of us had to accompany her back home.

As the drama of that event unfolded, it looked like I would be able to stay in Haiti to complete the trip. Then, only minutes before reaching the Port Au Prince airport, I learned I would be leaving too. My bag remained at the hotel; my goodbyes to teammates left unsaid; my hugs to the children not given. Luckily I had taken the sage advice of my husband and had my passport and identification in a pouch around my neck. I was homeward bound.

I confess the days immediately following the trip were filled with grief for what I had missed. For my all-too-brief time with the lovely, loving children. For my inability to “do more.” In time, however, God brought clarity and revealed how much he actually accomplished through that brief experience.

The first lesson I learned prior to leaving for Haiti. You see, I was battling anxiety as I thought about leaving my two young sons to go on such a trip. What if something happened to me? What would happen to them? Who could love them, affirm them, cherish them as I could? As I considered questions such as these, God asked, “Do you trust me?”

My immediate response was, “Yes, of course I trust you.” His reply struck me mute: “Do you trust your children to me? Am I enough for them?” I had to wrestle with that one. Did I trust that if something happened to me the boys would be okay? Did I believe God would care for them and nurture them? In the end, God helped break a stronghold of fear in the heart of this mother.

The second lesson was an insight regarding the qualifications for missioning. Henri Nouwen asks it best: “What is required of a man or a woman who is called to enter fully into the turmoil and agony of the times and speak a word of hope?” Recently I revisited my personal blog, where I found this post dated May 23, 2009:

“As children of God, believers in Jesus Christ, and His disciples on this earth, we often find ourselves asking this same question. I know I do. And the word God has kept bringing me back to over these past several weeks is COMPASSION.”

Brennan Manning defines compassion, “The etymology of the word compassion lies in two Latin words, cum and patior, meaning to suffer with, to endure with, to struggle with, and to partake of the hunger, nakedness, loneliness, pain, and broken dreams of our brothers and sisters in the human family.” Manning’s words affirmed my mission and my qualifications for the Haiti trip: “To live in the name of Jesus Christ is to bear the name Compassionate One.”

The final lesson is one I was recently reminded of as I read through the story of Ester. As Ester ponders her situation in the palace of King Ahasuerus and the choice before her, Mordecai says those familiar words, “Who knows whether you have not attained royalty for such a time as this?”

For such a time as this. As we read the Scripture or examine history, we see people who God appoints for certain tasks: Moses, Ester, King David, Paul, Martin Luther, Jonathan Edwards, Hudson Taylor to name a few. When we think of these giants, we don’t feel adequate, do we? I learned through my trip to Haiti that God does appoint us for certain times and specific tasks, and it doesn’t take a giant to fulfill his charge. Just someone surrendered to his will and obedient to his call. He provides the power.

Looking back, I realize that it doesn’t take five days, five weeks, or even five years for God to accomplish his will. He operates outside of our notion of time. Most often it seems he operates like a farmer, cultivating crops that take time to mature. Yet, if he desires, he can bring forth a harvest in as little as 44 hours.

Beauty and Story

This weekend I had the pleasure of attending the Storyline Conference at Belmont University. My sister, Beth, attended Belmont more than a decade ago, and I hadn't been on its campus since her wedding in 1996 (she married at Belmont Mansion, pictured above). What a beautiful campus!

The writer Donald Miller (author of Blue Like Jazz among other titles) leads the Storyline Conference, and it was a thought-provoking two days. Miller challenges people to examine the stories they are telling with their lives and to consider how they can live better stories...stories that bring life, affect change, and usher in the Kingdom.

Three men that Miller interviewed during the conference were true inspirtations to me: Jamie Tworkowski (www.twloha.com), Al Andrews (www.improbablephilanthropy.com), and Bob Goff (www.bobgoff.com). Visit each of their websites to learn about these men, their lives, and their stories. Wow!

Imagine

Since writing about Psalm 91 and considering Moses' journey, I've found myself stewing on this idea: [Moses] has seen God, talked with God, and experienced God like none other. He has witnessed the power and glory of God, and he wants God, not land. He knows the journey is about something much greater than an inheritance of land."

Writing that triggered an awareness in me. The awareness that so often my gaze is on the journey right before me: nurturing a good marriage, raising good kids, being a good Christian... Is The Good Life what this journey is all about?

Honestly, it sometimes feels this way. My default setting is to live like the path of "good wife, mom, Christian" is the path leading toward fulfillment. In the end, I should have a happy marriage, well-adjusted, productive children, and a satisfying ministry most likely in my church of choice.

And that makes me sad. Because that is not what I want in the end. Just like Moses didn't want an inheritance of land to be the culmination of his story, I don't want "good" to be the culmination of mine. Of course I want a marriage that endures, children that thrive, and a spiritual life that is vibrant; however, I want something else more.

I want God. I want to encounter and engage God in the same way as Moses. I want intimacy with Him. I want to communicate with Him. I want to be obedient, humble, yielded, and satisfied. I want to look beyond the "good" of this world and see the "great" of the one beyond.

Imagine Moses as he climbed Mount Nebo. He wasn't filled with grief or regret or bitterness. Oh no, likely he was bursting with joy and with anticipation - not because he was going to see the Promised Land, but because he knew was going to soon be in the presence of God forever.

Imagine.

(Dis)appointed

Yesterday went something like this: unexpected a.m. visit with great friend, complete with comfy pjs and chai tea; first yoga class in months; long lunch at favorite restaurant with another great friend and Dr. Pepper; quick shopping trip in which I find an awesome pair of trouser jeans for $5 - yes, only $5; pick boys up from school; and then watch them depart with Tim for tennis lessons, leaving me with some quiet time in an empty house.

I had honestly thought earlier in the day, as I drove down Kingston Pike, that I am going to have to blog about this day. It was one of those times that felt like a reprieve from all of the wrestling I had been doing in my personal and spiritual life earlier that week. It was a gift. I felt the joy of deep friendship, physical restoration, great conversation, and small delights (chai, Dr. Pepper, a bargain). I thought that was what the day was all about until...

As Tim and the boys left for tennis and I closed the garage door, the phone began to ring. I couldn't have scripted it any better. I knew on the first ring who it was (see previous post, "Waiting"). My lengthy wait ended with that phone call, and the result was ... disappointment.

Hold on. That's not how it's supposed to go. The day is about rest. Friends. Small blessings. A light heart. Good news - that's what the phone call is supposed to deliver. That makes sense in the day's context.

What do we do when it doesn't make sense? When the light/dark, happy/sad, sweet/bitter come to you all at once? I'm no expert, but I will tell you what I did: I allowed myself to feel the disappointment, to acknowledge my grief, and to cry (hard). When my brain told me to pull it together, I instead listened to my heart and cried some more. And in the midst of the tears, I saw the soft place God had prepared for my disappointment - a day of rest, a quiet house, caring friends, a compassionate husband, tender and loving children.

In acknowledging this, I realized that the contrasts of my day could be best summarized as disappointment/appointment. To be appointed means "to be predetermined." I have no doubt that this phone call came right on time. Appointed also means "to be provided with what is necessary; to be equipped." I was ready for the conversation - to accept the response; to share my story, and to walk in the Spirit.

I am amazed by the juxtaposition of these things - how our hearts can feel so much, how our lives can contain it all, and how God works so beautifully, so deeply, and so graciously before, beyond, and in the midst of it all. I am overwhelmed by His provision - to handle the timing in my life and to equip me for whatever is to come. And I am thankful that He is present in the light/dark, happy/sad, sweet/bitter moments of my life.

Right On Time

Very recently I read two timely pieces about time. Shared below, the first was written by author Henri Nouwen; the second by my former employer and forever mentor Jesse Palmer. I read them upon my abrupt return from Haiti, when I was reeling from the whirlwind trip. It was a revelation that the number of hours I spent with the children wasn't what determined whether my trip had impact; instead, I was in Haiti "for such a time as this" - God's timing, His call, His purposes. I invite you to read these two passages and consider Jesse's question: "How do you keep time?"

Clock-time is the time we have in this world. That time can be measured in seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years. Our clock-time, chronos in Greek, can become an obsession, especially when all that we are is connected with the clock that keeps ticking whether we are awake or asleep. ... All these concerns about our clock-time come from below. They are based upon the presupposition that our chronology is all we have to live. But looked upon from above, from God's perspective, our clock-time is embedded in the timeless embrace of God. Looked upon from above, our years on earth are not simply chronos but kairos - another greek word for time - which is the opportunity to claim for ourselves the love that God offers us from eternity to eternity. And so our short lives, instead of being that limited amount of years to which we must anxiously cling, become that saving opportunity to respond with all of our hearts, souls, and minds to God's love. ~ by Henri Nouwen

In Greek there are two words for time - chronos and kairos. Humans are consumed by the former. For us it's "real" time. It's the way we measure the length of life and schedule our the spending of heartbeats and breaths. For God, on the other hand, a thousand years being a day and a day a thousand years has a divinely different tick on time. We're all about time. He's all about timing. We're chronic about chronos while God really cares more about kairos. The mother of Gospel music Mahalia Jackson had a great saying, "God doesn't always come when you call, but He's always right on time." He's never too early or too late, always right on time ... the right time. His time! How do you keep time? ~ by Jesse Palmer

What Is Required?

I was surprised the other day to notice a theme to what I've been reading in the weeks leading up to my Haiti trip. It wasn't intentional - or at least by my intention - so it captured my attention as something that God wants me to hear and to consider.

The first is a small work by Henri Nouwen: The Way of the Heart. In his Prologue, Nouwen writes, "What is required of men and women who want to bring light into the darkness, "to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty to captives and to the blind new sight, to set the downtrodden free, to proclaim the Lord's year of favor" (Luke 4:18-19)? What is required of a man or a woman who is called to enter fully into the turmoil and agony of the times and speak a word of hope?"

As children of God, believers in Jesus Christ, and His disciples on this earth, we often find ourselves asking this same question. I know I do. And the word God has kept bringing me back to over these past several weeks is COMPASSION.

Allow me to share a few excerpts from The Way of the Heart and then a second book, A Glimpse of Jesus: The Stranger to Self-Hatred by Brennan Manning. I'm not going to editorialize on these quotations, but I invite you to ponder them and perhaps check out these two small books for yourself.

Nouwen writes:

"...the point where ministry and spirituality touch each other [is] compassion ... Let us not underestimate how hard it is to be compassionate. Compassion is hard because it requires the inner disposition to go with others to the place where they are weak, vulnerable, lonely, and broken. But this is not our spontaneous response to suffering. What we desire most is to do away with suffering by fleeing from it or finding a quick cure for it. As busy, active, relevant ministers, we want to earn our bread by making a real contribution. This means first and foremost doing something to show that our presence makes a difference. And so we ignore our greatest gift, which is our ability to enter into solidarity with those who suffer."

"In order to be of service to others we have to die to them; that is, we have to give up measuring our meaning and value with the yardstick of others. To die to our neighbors means to stop judging them, to stop evaluating them, and thus to become free to be compassionate. Compassion can never coexist with judgment because judgment creates the distance, the distinction, which prevents us from really being with the other."

I picked Brennan Manning's A Glimpse of Jesus: The Stranger to Self-Hatred off a friend's bookshelf a few months ago. Like all of Manning's works, this is a beautifully written work with so much to consider:

"The etymology of the word compassion lies in two Latin words, cum and patior, meaning 'to suffer with,' to endure with, to struggle with, and to partake of the hunger, nakedness, loneliness, pain, and broken dreams of our brothers and sisters in the human family. Commitment to Jesus Christ without compassion for his people is a lie."

"What is indeed cruicial to the evangelical enterprise is the awareness that we ourselves are the primary target. It is not 'they' who are poor, sinful, and lost. It is ourselves. Unless we acknowledge that we are the sinner, the sick ones, and the lost sheep for whom Jesus came, we do not belong to the 'blessed' who know that they are poor and inherit the Kingdom."

"The church, the visible extension of Jesus Christ in time and space, is the image of the Compassionate One ... Where the Compassionate One is, there will his servants be. Whether in Times Square, Juarez, Rodeo Drive, middle-class suburbia, an alcoholic rehabilitation center, or a room full of eighth graders, the Word stands: 'I assure you, as often as you did it for one of my least brothers or sisters, you did it for me.' "

Nouwen observes, "Many of us have adapted ourselves too well to the general mood of lethargy. Others among us have become tired, exhausted, disappointed, bitter, resentful, or simply bored. Still others have remained active and involved - but have ended up living more in their own name than in the Name of Jesus Christ."

A read through these two works, especially in light of my upcoming trip to Haiti, has caused me to ask: What is my condition? Lethargic, exhausted, bitter, busy? Or alive in Christ? What is my calling? I am "called to enter fully into the turmoil and agony of the times and speak a word of hope. " And what reminder does God have for me in all of this? To live in the name of Jesus Christ is to bear the name Compassionate One.

Imagebearers

On Tuesday I had the opportunity to conclude a study of women in the Bible that the ladies of my church have been in this year. Below is an adaptation of my "talk":

Imagebearers. In Genesis 1:26-27 we read, "Then God said, 'Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.' So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them." Think about it: As women we are created in the image of God.

When we think of imagebearers in the Scriptures, descriptions immediately come to mind. Eve: hopeful. Sarah: faithful. Ester: courageous. Mary: obedient. The Samaritan woman: transformed. When the Word says we "bear" the image of God, it means we carry or possess it, but bear also means "exhibit." If we bear the image of God, we exhibit or show this somehow. How? In our character.

Let's take a closer look at the women from the Bible that I mentioned to examine their character more fully. In Genesis, we first meet Woman - that is her name. Early in her story we see that she disobeys God and, as a result, hides in shame. But God doesn't leave her there. Woman is restored and given a new name - Eve: mother of all living. We see God's faithfulness in Eve's story and in redeeming her character.

Later in Genesis we find Sarah exercising great faith as she follows her husband, Abram, into a new land, and believes God's promise to them of a son. We also discover her humanity as she experiences fear and disbelief and takes matters into her own hands. The result brings her misery and jealousy, but once again, we see that God is faithful. He fulfills his promise to Sarah and gives her a son when she is 90 years old. In her waiting, Sarah is transformed into a woman of abundant faith.

When we study Ester, we see how a women's beauty goes far deeper than her appearance - to her heart. When she offers herself courageously, selflessly, and lovingly on behalf of others, she can change the world. Ester risks it all, and as a result saves her people. Her beauty of character comes from knowing that God is sufficient for her every need.

In the New Testament we meet a young, poor, unaccomplished, and unknown young woman named Mary. To God, none of that matters. He is looking for someone who loves him, and Mary is devout, obedient, and humble. In a life-changing moment, we see her put her faith in God and accept the unexpected. Scripture shows us that Mary responds - not with fear or self-doubt or hesitancy - by worshipping God, by showing her gratitude, and by acknowledging his holiness, power, and love.

In John 4, we encounter a woman very different than Mary. The Samaritan woman is drawing water in the heat of the day, alone at the well, disgraced and ashamed. Yet, her life changes when a Jewish man asks her for a drink and a conversation ensues. In that moment, God is working in her heart, drawing her to Christ, and revealing truth. In fact, she is the first person that Jesus reveals his true identity to - He is the Messiah! We see an enthusiastic, determined woman leave the well to eagerly tell all about Jesus. Her life is changed, but more importantly, her heart is changed.

Why does the Bible share the stories of these exceptional women? It can't be because they are exceptions - no, they are examples for us as fellow imagebearers. We will all, like Eve, make tragic choices and run from God. We will all, like Sarah, have times of fear and disbelief. We will all, like Ester, face circumstances that demand courage and include risk. We will all, like Mary, experience the unexpected. And we will all, like the Samaritan woman, feel alone and ashamed.

The question isn't how we are like these women - that is clear. The question is how we will respond, for through our response we move toward God or away from Him.

Scripture provides insight into how we can cultivate a Christ-like character that will rule our responses. In Ephesians Paul writes, "You learned Christ! My assumption is that you have paid careful attention to him, been well instructed in the truth precisely as we have it in Jesus. Since, then, we do not have the excuse of ignorance, everything - and I do mean everything - connected wtih that old way of life has to go. It is rotten through and through. Get rid of it! And then take on an entirely new way of life - a God-fashioned life, a life renewed from the inside and working itself into your conduct as God accurately reproduces his character in you." (Eph. 4:17-21)

In 2 Peter we are encouraged, "Don't lose a minute in building on what you've been given, complementing your basic faith with good character, spiritual understanding, alert discipline, passionate patience, reverent wonder, warm friendliness, and generous love, each dimension fitting into and developing the others. With these qualities active and growing in your lives, no grass will grow under your feet, no day will pass without its reward as you mature in your experience of our Master Jesus." (2 Pet. 2:5)

John MacArthur writes in his book Twelve Extraordinary Women: "The women of the Bible were ordinary, common, and in some cases shockingly low-caste women ... in each instance, what made them extraordinary was a memorable, life-changing encounter with the God of the universe ... He refined them like silver. He redeemed them through the work of an extraordinary Savior - his own divine Son - and confirmed them to His image ... they stand as reminders of both our fallenness and our potential ... They point us to Christ.

These imagebearers encountered God, experienced Christ, and the fruit of their faith was Christ-like character. Have you had such an encounter? Have you experienced Christ? If so, then what is your response? If you are moving toward God, then consider the beautiful promise of 2 Corinthians 3:18, for it is true for you: "We, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit."

A Simple Idea

I don't really make New Year's resolutions. Yes, I always feel the urge to exercise more and eat less as the calendar turns. But that's not really a resolution ... just stating the obvious, as I sit surrounded by leftover Christmas cakes, cookies, and candies.

What, really, is a resolution? Most often we think of it as an intention. A decision we make to change something about ourselves or our lives. However, I prefer Webster's first definition. Resolution: the act or process of reducing to a simpler form.

In this age, life is anything but simple most days. Just finding time to enjoy a pajama day with the boys, a date night with Tim, or a game of spades with our friends seems almost impossible. Our cell phones, laptops, and Blackberries keep us plugged in, on schedule, and in contact, but we seem to be missing each other along the way.

How about instead of making a resolution this year, we truly experience resolution? Reducing life to a simpler form: slowing down, breathing deeply, living daily, engaging fully, giving generously, worshiping lavishly, and loving completely.

Wrestling With God

This weekend Tim and I were fortunate to attend a one-day conference in Chapel Hill, NC, with Dan Allender. A counselor, writer, and teacher, Allender is also presently the president of Mars Hill Graduate School in Seattle. We've read several of his books (To Be Told, How Children Raise Parents, The Intimate Mystery...) and are great fans of his writing and his teaching.

The conference was titled "Wrestling with God: Jacob's Story, Our Story," (read Jacob's story in Genesis 26-50) with the tagline, "What if you could lead and live in relationship with God and others in passionate, life-changing ways?"

As I look back over my notes from the day, a mere three sessions, I am amazed at how much Allender taught, the questions he raised, the truth he offered for consideration, the stories he told. At times, I felt as if I was clinging, just trying to stay with him, as his words were so thick with meaning I couldn't possibly absorb the impact and implications of them all in such a short period.

So much good stuff I'd love to share...about how God works through our weakness, intends to rouse our desire, and values relationship with us. But I want to share a bit of what Allender said about "Calling," as that is one idea that Tim and I have been pondering for a while now. As I write, though, I see that it all weaves together...calling, wrestling, desire, relationship.

Consider this: "What is your calling on this earth? All of us are meant to reveal God through our character. What does this mean? You have a role to play on this earth, and when you live out your character, you reveal the character of God."

Allender asks, "Do you spend time studying you and how God has made you? The repetitive themes that show up in your life? Have you been wrestled to the ground by your own story? If not, then you want to be a part of God's plan from a safe distance. If you want God, it is a bloody affair -- God mugs those he loves and provokes us to open our hearts to desire."

"Wrestling with God takes you to his blessing: He chooses to bring something beautiful in spite of you, for you, for others, and for Him. It is in our brokeness and weakness that we reveal God's strength and his glory. So the question is -- Will you participate with joy in being used by God?"

I left the day with so much to ponder, but this one overwhelming thought: the God of the universe, who pursued Jacob -- as flawed as he was -- and gave him a new name and a blessing, pursues us as well. He still pursues, he still speaks, and he wants to bless us and give us a new name. As Allender says, "Every story in the Bible is OUR story -- they don't just have an effect on us; they are OUR story. Our lives have crossroads written by God to invite us into a mugging -- God is trying to wake us up."