Jana Spicka

The Oil of Intimacy

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Oswald Chambers once wrote that some things revealed in the spirit are difficult to convey in words. As I write this sentence this morning, I see now I why God told me to create a picture.  The revelation He gave is a rich reality not intended to be easily digested, or dismissed. It is so profound that He wanted me to experience the supernatural moment, but also to fully appreciate the sensation in the natural. And, he wanted me to take a picture so that I could remember it, and share it. Why?  Because this truth is for us all.  So allow me to create the backdrop of the Masterpiece.

I was lost in worship at church. It was one of those surreal moments when His presence was so strong that people responded by singing, crying, sitting or standing with outstretched arms. It was heavy, soaking, glorious. In a word, we were undone. As I sang, I realized that I kept rubbing my fingers across my forehead. Suddenly aware of how foolish it seemed, I asked the Lord, “Why am I doing this?”

The verse out of Revelation came to my spirit about his name being written on our foreheads. I laughed in my heart and told Him I was rubbing in the name that he had written on my forehead so it wouldn’t fade away.  “What would it say anyway? Jeee-sus?” I asked in a silly sort of way.

“No, that’s my name. That’s not my name for you.” His penetrating response shook off my childishness in an instant.

Now I have a long history with God about names. All through scripture, and today, we see God changing people’s names. He gives us new names, even pet names, to show us our destiny or to strengthen our confidence in Him. It is a huge jump in affection when we faith Him to tell us our names, we receive that name and eventually agree with His new name — his idea of who we are becoming, not what we currently see.

That being said, I asked Him if it was my “new name” written on my forehead?

“No, today it’s different,” He said. So I waited in worship.

Then I saw myself standing in front of Him, my head bowed, a smile on my face, and the word “Beloved” written on my forehead.

“Your name is Beloved,” He whispered so tenderly and then He kissed my forehead.IMG_3499

Tears rolled down my cheek in the natural as I experienced this holy picture in my spirit. I am, we are, Beloved.  Known intimately and received completely by Jesus. Not collectively, but individually.  He holds nothing back from us. He calls each one of us, writes on each of our foreheads His distinctive declaration.  Not a number. But a name, a lovely, awe-inspiring, worship-invoking name.  Beloved. His Beloved.

And then. Then came the oil. After the kiss, I saw the Lord pour oil on my head and I heard, “I anoint your head with oil. The oil of gladness.”

Selah.

To say I was wiped out would be an understatement.  I could hardly speak the rest of the night. The next day I could think of little else as I thanked the Lord for his beauty, nearness, and desire. But He wasn’t done with me yet. He kept reminding me that He wanted me to create a picture. I wanted to protest, but how could I refuse Him?

So I asked the girls to help me follow through on something the Lord had told me to do, even though it sounded crazy! Salem wrote on my forehead and Charis poured oil while Salem took pictures. Can you even imagine the expressions on their faces? But we did it all together. And as I relived in the physical world what I had experienced in the heavenly one, even more love exploded in my heart and spirit.

Can you see this word on your forehead? It is there. Written by Jesus himself.

Now let me show you the verses in their fullness and colorful beauty.

The River of Life
Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life,
bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God
and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city;
also, on either side of the river, the tree of life
with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month.
The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.
No longer will there be anything accursed,
but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it,
and his servants will worship him.
They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads.
And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun,
for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.
Revelation 22: 1-5

To grant those who mourn in Zion,
Giving them a garland instead of ashes,
The oil of gladness instead of mourning,
The mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting.
So they will be called oaks of righteousness,
The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified. Is 61:3

God has used both of these passages in my own life to reveal hope and healing and destiny. But He has also purposefully planted these promises in me so I can give them to others.  It is His heart is for His people. He gives us these truths so that we can walk, no run, no DANCE in the joy of Being His.

After this all happened I was reading a new book and saw the phrase, the Oil of Intimacy. I had to put the book down.

That was it. Precisely.  He pours on me, you, us, the oil of intimacy.

Oil. Produced by crushing and refining. A product for softening, nourishing and healing. A product for burning, lighting, or scenting — anointing.

Intimacy. A result of two hearts connecting in deepest places. The two becoming one flesh. In-to-me-you-see. To know and be known, to love and be loved. Be loved. Beloved.

Can I get an Amen?

I can hardly contain all this as it is…but this morning He reveals two more pieces.  First, this revelation comes on the heels of an encounter that had come the week before where I was left with a hard question of “who will you become?”  He had shown me three different pictures going from devotion to distraction. I have wrangled over the answer and He himself answered His question. I am His Beloved. I am His.

And second, as incredible as it sounds, my friend Chelsi sends me a link to a song this morning. It’s name?  “Healing Oil” by Kim Walker.  Think He is wanting me, wanting us, to soak in His goodness?

So what to do with all this?  Maybe you should have someone write the word Beloved on your forehead and take your picture.  It is very sobering.

Maybe you should pour oil over your hands, or head if you dare. Feel the sensation of the richness, let your spirit and your body agree…His has anointed us with the oil of gladness. It is ours for the taking.

Maybe you should sit in quiet or worship and eagerly desire the presence of God.  He inhabits the praises of His people. So He is eager to be with you as well.

Maybe you should just thank Him. Thank Him for calling you Beloved.

We are His beloved.  Let Him write on you. Let Him pour oil on you. Let Him love you.

The Four Letter Word We All Fear: R-E-S-T

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IMG_5601My friend Kate looked kindly at me. “Rest is a good thing. God has created all of creation to rest. Day and Night. Seasons. Even the human body needs sleep every day. It’s God’s idea. His design,” she said.

“I know but it feels like I’m doing something wrong if I can’t do all I am supposed to do.” I said, my eyes stinging with tears.

“All I am supposed to do… Hmmm. Says who?” she said with a smile.

This conversation took place a couple of months ago. It became a catalyst for a life altering revelation from the Lord. What’s ironic is that He started the Rest conversation probably three years ago. I see now it is a growth area that He simply won’t stop talking about. Which means it is really, really important to Him, which means it is really, really important to us.

Lesson One: Years ago, a group of older women were laying hands on me and praying.  Two of them kept saying that I didn’t know how to rest. In my highly spiritual state, I got offended.

Ding. First sign you are a performance junkie is to get defensive when someone tells you are too busy.  I complained to the Lord as they were praying, “God I am trying to do all you have called me to. Are you mad at me? Is this not enough? Am I not doing it right?”

His response was to teach me how to “rest in the presence of the Lord.”

Revelation One: Rest means there is a confidence deep in our soul that God is with us, hears us, responds to us, loves us. This “resting place” becomes our starting point. Ground Zero. We build life on this foundation. All that happens good or bad begins with this one truth: God loves me completely all the time. When we settle this issue, what follows is a quiet assurance, a resting, in the our spirit. Otherwise we strive, worry, defend, blame, or run from God.  Rest means we can’t run from Him. We are built on Him.

Lesson Two: Two years ago I was at the beach soaking in His presence. I asked God how I could maintain the richness of our connection once I got home to routines and demands.
“You must reorder your life,” He said, plain as day.

This comment created an awareness of how a) my stuff owns me, b) my to-do list, email, FB, and pleasing others is more of a priority than my God connection and c) my Drive-thru Christianity could not satisfy the deeper hunger in  my spirit.

His response was to teach me how to surrender my ways to His ways.

Revelation Two: Rest requires, no demands, a deeper understanding of God. I like to think of myself as a God lover. But when God told me to reorder, I saw how Un-Jesus my life really looked. So reordering meant saying no to doing a 1000 things at once, purging possessions, risking reputation, forcing my schedule to serve me, instead of me being a slave to my calendar.  Rest has meant truly “seeking first the Kingdom of God” and all the other things have been added. Or not.

I don’t want to blow past this.  The Roman Empire was as busy as the American Empire is but Jesus maintained His peace and joy.  He invites us into the same kind of God Life as we live our lives.  We don’t get bonus point for being exhausted, nasty, booked-up believers.  What pleases the Father is when we look like His Son.  Period.

Ouch.

Lesson Three: All this brings me to a couple of months ago when I had lunch with my friend Kate and then dinner with my friend Dana. I told each of them about my exhaustion, my lack of motivation, even to be candid, my irritation. I didn’t understand what was happening in my heart although I had gone through this reorder and focus on the Lord. Thank God for godly friends. Through them, I saw that I had just completed one of the most outpouring seasons of my life. It was all done by God, for God and in God. But now it was time to… Really? They both said the “R” word.

Again?  Still? I am still working on Rest?   I saw that I had made great progress.

Resting place? Check.

Reorder? Check.

Replenish? Uh, say what? I still had missing pieces.

His response was to teach me that rest is about starting, not just stopping.

Revelation Three: Rest isn’t just not doing things that cause stress or fatigue. It is about adding in those things that feed our heart, soul, mind and spirit.  The word Sabbath came up in a brand new way. Not the living under the law kind of Sabbath.  But a God-given breather, mini-vacation, refresher kind of Sabbath.

Let me ask you these questions. Try to write out your answers.

What do you do that makes your heart soar?

What brings joy to your soul?

What delights you?

What do you do that’s fun?

If you are like me, you might be staring dumbly into space.  I had to discover these answers. But let’s suppose you can actually formulate answers, so let me ask you this. Do you do any of these on a scheduled, committed basis? Rest comes when these things are in place.  Don’t have time? Then reorder.

Joy, delight, fun are kingdom words. They are child-like words. We don’t get points for being grown ups all the time.  Jesus called us to become like little children. To laugh, to play, to enjoy, to be excited over the smallest things. This may be our greatest act of worship.  Maybe that is why rest is so important to God.  And to us.

 

Summertime…the Rest of the Story

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IMG_5630It is too many thoughts to pack into a couple of paragraphs. But one word worthy of sharing is…rest.  I used to be woefully bad at it. I was formerly ignorant of its meaning. But all that is changing. Let me just say that I have read three novels, have a book called “Play” on my bedside table, and I have already been in the pool playing with my kids.

Rest is a holy word.

It is rich with meaning and it actually implies action. Replenish. Delight. Release. Trust. Enjoy. Stop.  All these are actions that come from rest.

I will unpack all this later, but for today, I just wanted to give you a head’s up that Jana, and WGR for that matter, is going to look a little different. Cooking videos are coming. Why? Just because they are fun. Blogs are coming just because God is bubbling up in me. Worship is coming because  at our core that is the point of this whole thing called life.

So watch for us and watch out for change….It’s gonna be great.

When a Virgin Asks about Not Being One…

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“From what I hear it sounds pretty great,” said this beautiful teenager.  She was talking about some of her friends who had already taken the plunge into having sex. “It is the social norm, you know” she said plainly.

My mind exploded with images, stories, statistics. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a sexual minefield and this young woman was standing on the opposite side. Somehow,  somehow, my job was to tell her how and why to walk through this minefield without blowing herself up.

“It is great, perhaps for the moment,” I said, recalling the rush of his attention, the allure of the distorted desire.  “But there is more, so much more.”

Here are some of the thoughts we kicked around. I pray it will be a worthy guide for this wIMG_3141oman but also for her scores of sisters, and brothers, yet to walk through the minefield.

For those of us who didn’t wait, “there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ.”  However. If we are deep down honest, now we know  the truth. So we dare not water down the truth to assuage our own disappointing choices.

Wise not Happy
A lot of girls give in to sex to “be happy.” They think it will make them happy. But more often it is about making someone else happy. Happiness via sex is like the crocodile in Peter Pan—once the taste is awakened, there is a hunger for more. And more. We are not shooting for happy right now in this moment. We are shooting for wise, which is a much harder but a much greater goal. We ask much harder questions:

Is this surrender of control over my own body wise?
Does this advance MY goals, not the guy’s wants, or my friends’ pressure?

I told this young woman, “in all my work with women I have never met a woman who didn’t regret giving her virginity away for nothing.”  There is a really high cost and a really high risk.

Whether we like it or not, the woman bears the brunt of sex. Whether through loss of reputation, getting a disease, losing scholarships due to pregnancy, or facing single parenting, adoption (or even abortion), the woman has the most to lose. She must be the wise one to rise up and protect her heart and future.

Trading a $1 for a Million Bucks
“Sex is a trusting God issue,” I explained.  She looked at me with a shocked expression. When we give into some temptation outside of God’s design, we are settling for the lesser payoff. For example,  let’s say sex now is worth a dollar and in marriage worth a million dollars.  That one dollar bill right now looks good. And so we think, “Hey, one dollar now is better than nothing.”  But there is the lie.  It’s not nothing, it’s just  later on.

God has promised abundance and favor when we do things His way. He promises a million bucks of freedom, hope and connection in marriage.  Do we trust that He will really come through? Do we trust that God has good for us, later on? Can we trust God to satisfy our desire, right now in the waiting?  One dollar vs. one million.

Hanging around
Sex with others doesn’t just go away.  The memories can hurt for a long time, even the good memories.  How many women, and men, have found themselves unable to be truly intimate with their spouse because of past sexual encounters? By truly intimate I mean God-powered, heart-connected, physically-abandoned sex.  Spirit, emotion and body sex—this is what God has in mind.  Our choices to gratify ourselves for the moment really distract from the longer sexual journey inside marriage. It takes a lot of work to get rid of the memories, comparisons, and shame once we finally meet our husbands.

Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen
As my mind  flashed around memories, and even scanned the hard journey of my own marriage, I found I didn’t know how to express one thing: the regret.  I took a deep breath and began.

“I don’t know that you can hear this, but there comes a moment after you meet the man of your heart. It may be right away, or sometime later, for me it was after I became a Christian, but this wave comes over you and you realize that this is God man’s for you. In that moment, you look at the ones who have gone before. They took what rightfully belonged to your husband.  There are all these ‘one and only first times.’ And you realize, you gave those to someone else. It really breaks your heart. Can you see why wise now is better than happy now?”

Enjoy the best of Jesus
I asked this young Christian if she knew there is an anointing on the present generations  for increased power and worship? She said yes she did and so did her friends.

I think the enemy knows that too. That’s why he is unleashing his greatest tactics to keep young women and men preoccupied by all the sexual stimulation, disconnected from true relationships by their devices and deceived into thinking they can have the best of heaven and the best of the world.

How do they fight then?  Their best weapon is a true and real intimacy with God.  There is no better lover than Jesus.  No greater romantic, protector, or satisfier.  We must continue to call them to the love of the Father. They will follow where we are going. So we must ask, are we as adults enjoying the best of Jesus? Are we showing them the God they need for staying power through the minefield?

How would you feel?
The question jumped in my throat.  She was asking, without asking, would you still love me if I had sex? I took another deep breath, shot up an arrow prayer and replied:

“This is your choice to make. I had my choices and I have to live with them.  I have tried to tell you the truth best I can—the good, the bad, and the ugly.  Now you have to decide what you are worth, what you are willing to fight for.  My strong desire is that you wait. Wait on God. Wait for God. Wait in God. But my love for you is not determined by  your choices. I choose to love you. No matter what.”

God we pray your covering over the younger generations. Give us boldness to speak and to stand. Give them wisdom and courage beyond their years. Satisfy us with your love dear Jesus. Amen

 

What I Gave Myself for Mother’s Day 2013

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This is not for the faint of heart. And if you can’t relate, please…spare me the correction. The voices in my head are loud enough without your “I can’t relate” voice singing harmony. Heck, it’s taken me this long to process all that God downloaded, and even still, I was typing through tears. Hopefully, some of you moms will appreciate my gift and want to get it too.

The morning of Mother’s day rolled around and I got snuggles from both my girls and the cats, home-made cards, coffee in bed from Chuck, and all is well. Until. Until Chuck sweetly and innocently asked, “What do you love best about being a mom?”

I started bawling…IMG_1082

Chuck’s utter shock and dismay was equaled only by my own shock over the breach in my bastion of emotions.  “What’s. The. Matter?” he said wide eyed. Like a crack in a dyke that has been  ramrodded one too many times, the dam broke.

“I can’t think about what I love best about being a mom because I have just been sitting for the last two weeks examining all the places I have failed.  I see all these wounds in my girls and I know I did that.  I see my own selfishness, stubbornness, and being controlling.  I hear them being unkind and angry to each other and I know they learned that from me.  I love being a mom more then I ever thought possible but it is the most painful thing I have every experienced.  I know I have done some things right but to love someone so much and still hurt them—it’s more than I can bear sometimes,” I said in a rush between sobs.

I pulled my bedspread over my face and wept.  Chuck carefully came over and held me, trying to comfort his neurotic wife. Inside I was thinking, “Idiot. Why did you let that out in the open?” But deeper inside, I heard the Spirit say, “We will talk about this later.”  So I had a good cry, got my face back on, Chuck took a deep breath, and we were back to normal.

Until. Until I got to church. And the conversation continued.

For several years, my family has celebrated Father’s day by blessing Chuck with things we appreciate about him. We have then taken time to tell God the things we love about Him being our Father. It’s been so rich and powerful to sit in Him enjoying us as we enjoyed Him. However, I have never done that on Mother’s Day.  I don’t know why. It’s as if somehow the male mantra of doctrine never prompted us  to consider God as a great Mother, although the Bible is full of “mothering” names and actions. This was the day to break that barrier.  I began listing all the ways that God had been a nurturing, faithful, and tender Mother to me.

I said out loud, “You alone are the role model for Mother and Father.”  The loving correction I received next could only have come from a  Parent who is fully invested in me walking in fullness and freedom.

“There is no room for weakness in your parenting,” He said.

“I know,” I said, and began to cry again. “I want to be a perfect parent, and I can’t be.”

“That’s My job” he said ever so tenderly. “You are trying to be perfect, instead of embracing your weakness— for My glory.”

I had to just sit in that.  How do I embrace my weakness? How do I resist the urge  to immediately create a 1-2-3 Fix-it Plan?  How do I resist the temptation to 1) beat myself up for all my mistakes, 2) blame others for what I am alone responsible for, or, 3) live in some watered-down denial that ‘I did the best I could do’?

God interrupted. “Not denial. But Grief. Acceptance. Grace.”

Grief. He was calling me to grieve the mistakes. Don’t blame, deny or gloss over. Just grieve. Yes I blew that. Yes I missed that. Yes I chose poorly there. Yes I hurt you and I hurt me too. Yes I am sad about this. Really sad about the loss of time and opportunity. But I can’t live there forever. Right on the heels of a true grieving is an acceptance that we are all learning all the time.

Acceptance. Raising little humans is hard.  I’ve never been a parent before.  I have permission to learn. I tell my girls that “failing is part of the process just learn from it. True failure is when you quit trying.” I have to believe my own counsel. I have to keep learning and failure is a great teacher. I have to accept that God will carry my girls through my failures and successes.

Grace. Did I believe that God was big enough and strong enough to wash over my girls’ wounds and my wounds with His grace? Did I believe that God could restore, redeem, or resurrect these stages of childhood that are ever fleeting?

That morning He brought this verse to mind: “He fills everything in every way.” And then these words flooded through my soul like windows thrown open to let fresh spring breezes clear the stagnant air:
God’s grace fills every thing I missed.
God’s love fills every thing I broke.
God heals every thing I wounded.

He showed me that one of the best things I could share with my children is how God shows up strong in my weakness. But first, I had to admit to God, to myself and to my kids that I have weaknesses.

How would they ever learn to rely on God’s help in their weaknesses, if they have never seen Chuck and I own our weaknesses and  seen God shine through them? Wow. What a concept. Instead of shame and condemnation for not being a perfect mom, I could experience compassion and grace for myself. In greater dependence on the Spirit and far less pressure to perform, I could learn to love these children as much as I can, shepherd them in Jesus with as much wisdom as I can, and trust God to fill in all the gaps.

What I gave myself for Mother’s Day was a Grace Reality Check.  There is a perfect Parent. And it’s not me. Can’t be me. Was never meant to be me. But I am a well loved child who has the Perfect Parent. And THIS is what I can teach to my children: the fullness of Jesus made known through our weakness.

Thank you God for being such a great Mom.

“And God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills everything in every way.” Ephesians 1:22-23

A Cry for Humanity

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It was a convergence of wrenching heart moments. First came two hard movies within days of each other: The Impossible which is the the miraculous true story of an entire family who survived the tsnumami; and Hotel Rwanda which depicts the incredible true story of a man who saved 1268 Africans during the genocide in Rwanda. Next came this “ah-ha” revelation as I spent the day at Dollywood with my girls and some friends, only to come home to the horror of the death and destruction caused by the Oklahoma tornado.IMG_1050

How does the human soul carry such deep and diverse emotions? How do we celebrate the small victories when the devastation is so great. One family was reunited when 150,000 families had loved ones swept away by the sea. One hotel served as a haven to 1268 Hutus and Tutsi when one million corpses were left after the murderers were driven out of Rwanda.

Dazed and terrified children were pulled alive from school debris while other parents waited and searched in anguish for their child’s dead body to be discovered.

In light of this, my “ah-ha” at Dollywood seems so small now.

But perhaps as I connect all these emotional dots it is bigger than I realized. For the first time, as I entered into the mass of humanity that Dollywood attracts, my eyes and heart were seeing people.

Real people. Not the classes or the accents, not the perfect flesh or flawed flesh, not the beliefs and attitudes expressed through clothing, tattoos, or language, but I saw real people.  The flawless, fake “image” of beauty had no place here. What was real and true and honest was the weary but willing parents holding the hands of elated children. It was the mentally handicapped man who could not stop laughing and clapping his hands because he was so excited. It was the fit and obese, the rich and poor, the educated and hicks, the blasphemers and believers, all standing in line together, screaming together on rides, enjoying their loved ones, enjoying…life.

Enjoying. Life. Together.

If we truly are but dust, a flower that rises and falls, a vapor that appears for a moment then vanishes, if we truly are to savor every moment…then all these real life stories of great loss must prompt us to ask…are we? Am I? Are we seeing the beauty of God, the gift of life, the sufficiency of Grace, the overwhelming presence of the Spirit in our daily lives?

Because I am concerned, stirred and agitated that if I do not, will not savor it in times of blessing and peace, will I have the stamina and practice to rely on it when the my world spins out of my control?

Thank God today. For your life. For your loved ones. For His Life and Love.

“You lead me in paths of righteousness for Your Name’s sake” Psalm 23

 

Awakened by the God of the Ocean

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Years ago, I remember reading a profound little book called Gifts from the Sea by Ann Morrow Lindbergh.  I was a new Christian, a wanna-be writer and a newlywed. Her book was so deep and so grown up, I missed much of her wisdIMG_1107om the first time I read it.

It seemed surreal that she would leave her family, or could leave it, just to go to a beach to unwind and write. And yet, here I am — waiting, seeking  what the ocean might bring to my distracted soul; here I am yearning for the presence of God. It’s not as easy as it sounds.

Like my sister from generations passed, I am disentangling myself from the daily demands of family, work, ministry, and life. They are beautiful  cords that weave through and decorate my life. Yet I confess the tautness and pull of them sometimes knot up my mind. (I suspect I am not alone.) Ann Morrow described a woman’s life being the hub of a wheel with responsibilities and relationships emanating outwards in constant motion. That said, it required so much trust and courage to step out of the circle of motion and to take the time to unknot myself. Oddly, I find it is the very lack of pace that leaves me uncomfortable.

What do I do with my time? Now that I have removed all excuses and counterfeits, what is best done with my sabbathed energies and emotions?

I listen.

Yesterday the word was affection.  We talked about hearts. But not sea shell hearts, although I have found many. He showed me hearts in the sand, hearts outside crab holes, hearts in sea foam, in the clouds, in tree leaves.

The message?

His love is everywhere. Will I simply see it and receive it?

His love is everywhere. Is there anything more present or powerful? 

His love is everywhere. Am I walking in the boldness of a well loved woman?

As I look back on my God journey, I realize my soul was awakened by the ocean. From a child who giggled at first sight, to a twenty-something who stood by the sea and cursed my life for its bitterness and loneliness, to a young married consumed with “what would be one day”, to a wonder-filled diver who explored the glorious underwaters, to a forty-something who realized that I was not alone as I picked through the trinkets of the sea — God had been there, was there, would be there. He is here. Now.

My conversations have changed over the years and the beach trips. This time together, we dream and enjoy and ponder. The conversations are as diverse as the tides that roll in differently every day. One day it is fierce and windy, leaving me breathless and slightly off center;  another day is warm with gentle waves urging me closer.

Every day there are different lessons and perspectives. But always, always is the “voice of many waters”. Always is the rushing energy, the pounding roar, the blue visual feast that stretches out beyond my comprehension. Every day is the welling up in my spirit, in my deepest heart that often goes overlooked or undernourished when I am in the “hub mode.” God is for sure the center of my life, but life itself is draining as “the wheels on the bus go round and round.”

So to pull away, to hear him, to laugh and muse, to tease and argue, to deeply intercede for others in a focused way…it replenishes me in the same way the dry sand hungrily soaks up every drop as the waves wash ashore.

What do I do with so much time with the God of the ocean?
Soak Him in.

Find your place, your beach, your sabbath. Find your spirit again.

“Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.” Mark 6:31

Left for Dead

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The rain in the night brought rough waves and ocean gifts the next morning.  As the tide rolled out it left a trail of treasures like opened toys on Christmas morning. The large lump on the beach drew special attention.  Walkers swerved to look at it and continued on their clipped pace. Children, held firm by watchful mothers, stopped to gaze from a safe distance. Even ever-hungry seagulls took a tentative peck at it. For more than an hour it was a topic of wonder and sadness— another jellyfish washed ashore. -1

It was my friend, Heather, who kept going back to it over and over. Finally she leaned close —observing, waiting, watching and then she bee-lined it back to our lounge chairs.

“I think that jellyfish is still alive,” she said, slightly out of breath. In a moment I was sitting there processing data:
It may have been alive, but its now been out of water too long.
Do we care if a jellyfish is alive? After all, that is one less potential sting in the gray Atlantic water.  
How does one rescue a jellyfish?

She looked at our non-response, perplexed. “I see things moving on it,” she insisted, as if we had not heard her or believed her. “Its gill things are flapping.”

“It’s trying to breathe, I guess.” I said out loud. Something about that statement shocked me into action. A flurry of activity followed. With a float, a small umbrella, and smaller courage, we marched back down the beach to see our potential patient or corpse. It was a cannonball jellyfish but its normally dome head was flattened on one side like a ball that had lost its air. Still its wavy fringes remained a deep red. I slid the jelly onto the float with the umbrella, walked knee deep into the water, and slung the gellish blob back into its salty home. And we waited.

It bobbed in the water on its side the same way it had landed in the water. A wave rushed over it and then we only saw the dome head. I expected it to come back toward me in the tide so I stepped back out to ankle deep water. But instead of coming toward me, it went deep and was gone.

I stood there in a holy moment. Why had I just let that creature lie there for so long suffering? Why had I assumed its condition instead of investigating? Why had I been so slow to respond to my friend’s urgent face and plea for help?

It was just one stupid jellyfish. Who cares? But it wasn’t. It was me, and my friends, and all of us lying on the beach. Someone had taken the time to stop and look at us. Instead of leaving us for dead, or looking at our misery out of curiosity or warning, or trying feed off our helplessness, someone took the time to lean down, get close, and look for signs of life. Someone bothered to bring us back to the Living Water.

After high-fives for our heroic rescue, Heather told us that the brain is in the jelly’s dome. “You could see things working and moving in there.” she said with wonder.  The true wonder is that she had to get close enough to see that. She had to risk herself to rescue it.

Rescue. God’s heart beats with a desire for rescue. Take time today to look at people around you. Who lies helpless on the beach in need of someone to get him or her back in the water of life? Don’t assume you already know the diagnosis. Look for signs of life.

You don’t have to take them home to raise. Just give them a push back in the right direction so they can breathe again.

Be the person that makes a difference. Be the person who responds to a cry for help. You never know whose life will be saved. It might be your own.

Photo by Heather Terflinger

The More of Marriage: a mini series, part 3

/ Jana / Leave a comment

Marriage is a  relational Rubik’s cube

I love this mind-tester.  You keep moving the squares trying to get one color lined up and then the other side is jacked up.  So you spend time trying to get that color matching and… well.. you know the rest. One silly square out of place. Is this frustrating or fun, or both? Am I crazy? stupid? And  of course there are always the “smart ones” who  slam it down completed in 12 seconds or less.  Yeah.  We hate those people.

Marriage can look a lot like this. It’s heart- tester if you will. You work on this part of your relationship and then something (or someone) else gets out of whack. So you adjust hoping to “get it all together” at one time.  Sigh.  And much like the toy, there are the couples who say, “We have never had a fight.”  Yeah we hate those people too.  (Just kidding. Sort of. )

But hope rises with practice. As with the  Rubik’s cube, it takes skill to master the myriad of relationships.  I really thought in our marriage it was just me and Chuck, two sides, two colors.  No problem. In fact, our families were not in our equation of marriage, or so we thought.  However, idea of “just the two of us” got pretty crowded pretty quickly. Turns out  you can’t get rid of your roots. It  was me and Chuck and my family and his family. My friends and his friends. My teachers, enemies, old lovers, and role models, 600px-Rubiks_cube_by_keqsand his as well.  Then you add children. The colored squares just multiplied. Again.

These ghosts of past, present, and future really impacted our ability to connect, trust, and listen to each other.  The way our respective parents would fight, make up, handle money, do God — all that was sitting at the dining room table with us when we were trying to fight, make up, handle money, and do God.

One day in the early years,  this came into full view.  Chuck and I were fighting (for you couples who “don’t” that means the two of you disagree loudly) and he looked at me and said, “I am not your dad. I am not your ex. I am not your brothers. I am not your professor. I am not any of those guys…”
What courage and insight it was for him to lay it out for me so plainly.  I wasn’t  even listening to what Chuck was saying. I had gone into auto-pilot reaction as if I was confronting one of them.

This is true whether you had a great life history or not.  We have been relationally trained by others, for better or for worse. And we have to learn how to relate in a loving way to our mates.  Here is a newsflash.

It takes time to learn to be truly present and listening.

Not recalling old wounds, offenses or disappointments. Not thinking of your to do list or rebuttal. Not letting old triggers cause you to react instead of engage. But instead, really listening to the present need or issue of the moment. Really lending your heart and spirit to the moving parts of the relational Rubik’s cube”— it’s called relationship.  Friendship. Companionship.  It’s not easy but worth it.

Honesty, patience, safety, hope.  These four qualities totally change the condition of most marriages.  They are not something you demand from your mate, but something you cultivate with God and then pour it out on your mate.  It takes time. It takes practice. It takes God.

“I never thought marriage would be this much work.” How many times have I heard this?  Ever tried to work a Rubik’s cube?  That’s a toy. This is for life.

The More of Marriage: a mini-series, part 2

/ Jana / Leave a comment

Marriage has shown me my lack of grace, my need for grace, and the reality  of God’s grace.

I have these random memories.  Like puzzle pieces, God put things into place long before I was even aware He was working on me.  One memory is of my arrogant self telling our supposed pre-marrital counselor (snort) that “I am a great catch. And I don’t need Chuck, but I choose him.”  (Poor counselor. Poor Chuck.)

Fast forward to somewhere around year 5 when a wise friend from church asked me what I would do to save my already suffering marriage. I said emphatically, “ANYTHING.”IMG_0972

“Would you quit your job?” he said looking me dead in the eye without flinching. He had nailed my pride,  independence, superiority.  Shocked by the suggested sacrifice, I had to sit squarely and solemnly in the reality of being a liar.  I wouldn’t really do ANYTHING.  I  only wanted to do enough to  make Chuck act better for me.  After a great deal of gnashing my teeth with God, I realized that He could and would do ANYTHING — if my heart was humble before Him.

So I did. It did. God did.   I quit my job and launched my marriage in a different direction.  God was up to something better for me, for us.  My marriage radically changed when I saw my lack of grace for Chuck and I acknowledged  my need for grace to let go of ideas and actions that were poisoning my marriage. It is one thing to say you’re committed; it is another thing to act committed —especially when those acts require sacrifice.  Jesus  knows all about the cost of sacrifice, and it’s why He offers us His loving grace to do it.

From years 10-15,  there are lots of memories and  journal entries of “when Lord, when” or “why Lord why” or “help, Lord help.”

Funny now to think of it all.  I don’t how God carried us, but He did. Every day.  8030 days.  Sometimes we walked with Him. Sometimes He carried us in His arms while we were sleeping, or weeping, or too sick to walk.  Sometimes, He pulled us along,  His firm hand clamped around ours, as we kicked and screamed down the road He had determined. But He was there from the start in all the chaos, dreams, and questions. From the start He was planting life and hope and renewal. And as we went along He whispered…

“Trust Me.”

“Look at Me.”

“Expect Me to Change Things.”

“Believe for Good.”

I know folks married 30 – 50+ years are laughing at me.  In that world of marital staying power,  I am only a youngster.  But if you are under the 20 year mark, you need to know that God’s grace really is yours. It’s not a  pithy church statement. It is a divine fact, a gift, an investment.  He pours in to us what we cannot manufacture on our own. He never gets tired, frustrated or quits. We might, but Jesus doesn’t.

His grace is always available, and it comes to those who know they need it. Chuck and I have grieved over our hard-headedness and hard-heartedness. Why did we wait so long to humble ourselves before God and before each other in so many sticky places?

Our goal now is to shorten the recovery time.  After this many years, we are learning to bypass the manipulation by silence or anger or emotional explosions. We are more eager to get to the heart of the matter…. Really, the Heart of the matter. God’s heart. Chuck’s heart. My heart. “God what am I missing here?  I am committed to this person more than I am committed to being right, so give me grace to see what you see.”

Even in those times when one of us was more eager for health than the other, Grace happens. I have found that many times the only reason ONE person is still holding on, is because God’s grace is at work.  With so much marital collapse all around, we shy away from clinging to His grace and our vows.  Yet I believe it is a sure promise for those who desire to cross the finish line.

Truly, His Grace is all sufficient. For every need, He is there.