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Waking Up On The Right Side Of The Bed

August 25, 2010

My heart is steadfast, O God;
I will sing and make music with all my soul.
Awake, harp and lyre!
I will awaken the dawn. (Psalm 108)

I am trying to think of the last time I woke up exclaiming, “Awake, harp and lyre! I will awaken the dawn!”

When was that?

It really matters how I wake up; the first perception, the first thoughts I allow myself to think, the way I swing myself out of bed, my attitude when I walk to the shower. Who I am in the morning is my decision, isn’t it? Even though some people are naturally alive and awake in the morning, and some are not, isn’t waking up on the wrong side of the bed the result of a choice?

On the most basic level, we have gone after this as a family; you don’t have the privilege to wake up moody here. That isn’t to say that every day is a sunny and happy day, but in the Klassen house, you are not allowed to wreck everyone else’s morning by being grumpy and irritable. Illegal. It’s fine to be quiet, it’s fine to express what you are struggling with, but at the same time, being considerate of others is a choice we are saying that each one of us can make (Josh has the opposite problem, he is too cheerful, too full of mischief too early, he has to contain all of that or everyone turns on him). Some mornings we have to turn around and go find ourselves again so that we can come out and be civil.

But obviously there is more to it then that; more to the morning than simply being nice to others. The way I wake up really does set the course for my day. It is amazing how quickly a bad day sets in. Without even consciously thinking about it, I can be immediately worried, overloaded, frustrated, angry. I can immediately dread pushing the covers off and having to face whatever I have to face. There is no Polyanna way to get around this; sometimes the day ahead is less than inviting.

Sometimes I think if I pray first thing, I will have a change of heart and mind, but peace is a slippery thing. I have it in my hand, and it’s gone. I grab it again, and it’s gone again. Some things we are dealing with don’t just vaporize when we pray and push forward.

  • What is it like for someone who’s concerns are far greater than mine?
    * What about the person living on the street?
    * What about the person with a terrible illness?
    * What about someone who is in deep trouble?
    * What about someone who has that problem that won’t go away, day, after day after day?

What would I say about the mornings then? What about when you wake up and it feels there is nothing really worth waking up to?

David (from the Bible) knew all about trouble. Did he ever get any breathing room? I think that’s why Psalm 108 doesn’t begin on a note of praise; it begins with the words, “my heart is steadfast.” That’s self talk. That’s telling yourself to remember what you believe. That’s digging deep and finding determination that is rooted in faith. There is work to steadfastness that feels more like a pull than a glide. Steadfastness is really not about feelings; it is about convictions that you hold to no matter what. Stand firm.

Even if I don’t feel what I want to feel first thing, even if everything is out of balance, can I at least fix my gaze on what I know about God’s presence with me first thing in the morning? So, even if I don’t exactly feel chipper, can I “sing” anyway? Can I choose to do that?

I can relate to this passage this morning because I feel, “discombobulated.” Didn’t sleep great, my head is swimming in details and issues (things I need to do that I just can’t get to because of big disruptions; and when things get pushed off and pushed off, it starts to feel stressful), too many varied things I have to pay attention to. My head actually hurts today.

So who will I be this morning, who will I be today?

I serve a God who never leaves me. His love is measureless. His wisdom is perfect for every situation. My entire life is in His hands and He is the keeper of my soul. He is about hope, not despair. He is about windows, not walls. He is about leading me, not following me. He invites me over and over to trust Him, this is His timeless message, and when I follow it is always the right thing. Is He big enough for today? Yes. Is He completely present? Yes. Will He give me everything I need to tackle what He wants me to tackle? Yes. God is all about Yes, isn’t He?

Sometimes I think mornings feel overwhelming because I have the perception that I am alone in “all this” but that is where I need to steadfastly go back to what I know: I am not alone. I not only have partnership, I am not even in charge. I don’t even have to carry what I think I have to carry, all I need to do is listen better and follow better.

I love how David says, “I will awaken the dawn.” Usually we are woken up, and sometimes it is an unpleasant awakening. But David gets the jump on unpleasantness; he gets the upper-hand on the day, meeting with God before anyone can say anything.

Our God says to the complicated dawn, “Beat you to it! I AM up already.” And that means that Jesus and I already have a plan for how we are going to tackle this day.

—Teresa Klassen (http://www.onebrownleaf.wordpress.com)

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Consider: The Covenant

August 14, 2010

Part 11 of “Consider This”

Ever feel like God has forgotten about you?

I have now written 10 blogs in this “series” I have called Consider This and they have all been things that we tend to forget about God, but the one in Psalm 74:20 is interesting because this one is directed to God; this one asks God, “Have you forgotten?”

You walked off and left us, and never looked back.
God, how could you do that?
We’re your very own sheep;
how can you stomp off in anger?
Refresh your memory of us… (74:1–3, MSG)

  • God have you forgotten I am actually the man on your side?
    * Have you forgotten I am the woman who loves you?
    * I am the student who has given up a lot of things to serve you?
    * I am the one who has followed you since I was a boy, and now that I am old, have you now deserted me?
    * We are the ones who believed your promises, have you forgotten?

Now, consider again your covenant, God (Psalm 74:20, NASB).

The Bible is full of people who have pointed things out to God (Moses and the entire nation of Israel, Job, Elijah, most of the prophets, the Disciples to name a few), spelling out that they were alone or lonely or hungry or in need of rescue; did God hear them and had He forgotten His promises? Everyone knows God is powerful enough to rescue them; does God know?

It was you who split open the sea by your power;
you broke the heads of the monster in the waters.
It was you who crushed the heads of Leviathan
and gave him as food to the creatures of the desert.
It was you who opened up springs and streams;
you dried up the ever flowing rivers.
The day is yours, and yours also the night;
you established the sun and moon.
It was you who set all the boundaries of the earth;
you made both summer and winter (74:13–17, NIV)

God, we know you can do all these BIG things, where are you when we are needing something small like $1,000 or a job or an answer or relief or revenge or healing or just a word, God, just one….little…..word?

Silence. Silence. Silence.

This is confusing for us. This is confusing for people asking questions about God and faith. When we look at the world (or just our world) and the state that it is in, has God forgotten?

I don’t have a neat little answer for this. I wish I did. I just know that God did not enter into our contractual agreement; He is the one who drew up the covenant and it is us who have forgotten, not Him. He has always said, in bold print,

As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.

As the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,
so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. (Isaiah 55:9–11, NIV)

I think I say that I want to follow God, but often in reality, I want Him to follow me. I want to make plans and for Him to bless them. I want Him to get me out of a jam and fix things. My wants become expectations, and unmet expectations derail me. God confuses me when I get confused about His role and mine.

I came across this passage in Zephaniah 3, a beautiful description of the tension that exists between God and man. In this case it is describing His relationship with Jerusalem, but it also describes me, or any of us. God says,

The LORD within her is righteous; he does no wrong.
Morning by morning he dispenses his justice,
and every new day he does not fail…

But our response, my response is:

She obeys no one, she accepts no correction.
She does not trust in the LORD,
she does not draw near to her God.

Those words, “draw near” are everything, not because they solve everything for me; drawing near to God does not mean He will reward me with all I ever wanted (remember Job?). But unless and until I draw near to God, I will always overestimate “me” and continually underestimate Him. Drawing near allows me to look at God closely, to know Him, to trust Him.

If I take it upon myself to judge God from any distance, then I will love Him or hate Him based on whether He gives me what I want, how and when I want it. I will not see any greater purpose in anything, and I will interpret any waiting time, any discomfort, as cruel. If I do not draw near, He and I will be connected by a thread and eventually, inevitably, I will walk away when God does not show up, believing He has deliberately forgotten His covenant with me.

Ultimately, if I am frustrated that God is not meeting me or operating by my standard, then I am following god, not God.

– Teresa Klassen (http://www.onebrownleaf.wordpress.com)

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The Land Between

August 9, 2010

Last week I attended The Global Leadership Summit and had the opportunity to hear Jeff Manion speak (among others). Jeff’s talk was titled Land Between based on a book of the same title. I thought I would write about it this morning, because I so often find myself there.

If you ever find yourself saying, “for now” (as in, “I am working in this job for now…” or “I am living with my parents for now…”), this is the land between. If you ever look back at where you were or look ahead to where you want to be, you are in the land between. The land between might be a place you find yourself in a holding pattern; the land between might be a place you are in pain; sometimes you don’t know how you got there, sometimes you don’t know how you will get out; you just know you are in between.

Manion had us look at the story of Moses and pointed out what the land where Moses was living actually, physically looked like. There was Egypt to the left (all green and lush on the map) and then there was The Promised Land of Israel to the right (also green and lush) and then there was the desert of Sinai; barren and brown. This was where he wandered, in the land between. God told Moses in Exodus 3 that he would take him out of Egypt into the land of promise; there was no mention of “in between.”

Two years in and they are still there, in the land between. God is feeding them Manna for breakfast, lunch and supper and the people are sick of it. In Numbers 11:4 we hear their complaint, “If only we had meat!” Manion did a masterful job of drawing this out and then said that the land between is fertile soil for complaint. The thing about the children of Israel is that they weren’t just complaining about their situation; they were complaining against God. They were sick of eating the same thing day after day after day. They were essentially saying that life was better where they had been; life was better without God.

Jeff asked, what are you sick of? Are you sick of living here? Are you sick of the bills? Are you sick of your marriage? Are you sick of leading? Are you sick of healing a broken church?

How is God going to meet Moses here in the land between? How will God meet you?

You should read Moses’ honest prayer in Numbers 11:11–15. It is absolutely loaded with “I, me, I, me.” I have prayed prayers like this. The land between is fertile soil for emotional breakdown/meltdown. Moses says, “put me to death right now!”

Whose voice do you hear in the land between when

  • You are the couple facing medical tests?
    * You are the one struggling to make ends meet?
    * You are the parents with a child who is running away from God?
    * You are the pastor navigating ministry during a time of division?

In the land between you can feel like you have a hose hooked up to you, draining you dry. Any leader gets this, understands this feeling. Church leaders feel it every time someone leaves the church. It’s like a breakup; like people are saying, “It’s not you, we just want to date other churches right now.” Be prepared for disappointment, sometimes years of it, and sometimes being a disappointment. Be prepared to feel like you can’t do it any more.

God tells Moses to go and get 70 elders. He says they will help to “carry the burden of the people.” Go and meet with God in the “tent of the meeting” and there God will take the same spirit He has put on Moses and put it on them; basically giving him 70 “mini Moses’” God uses the same language here that Moses used in his prayer: “I will, I will.” The land between is also fertile soil for God’s provision.

Manion highlighted another famous meltdown: Elijah who was running for his life. He also prayed that he might die; he said, “I am not accomplishing anything!” He wakes up and sees and smells bread. He expects a lecture and God makes him lunch. God says, “Hey, you could really just use something to eat.”

What if God still does that? What if God is still good? What if God is still gracious? Open your hands and let God provide in the land between. Maybe God will give you patience, a job, strength, contentment, courage. Maybe He will pull you out of depression, or give you what you need daily, perhaps an email of encouragement, a “spookily” well-timed verse.

Back to Moses’ story; God is providing during the “Manna Riots.” He addresses the lack of meat in Numbers 11:18–20 (read it); God says, “I will give you so much meat it will come out of your nose! Because you have rejected the Lord…” The people had turned a corner in their complaining, lashing out against God and this bordered on “cosmic treason.” God responds and says (11:23a), “are the Lord’s arms too short?” Are you questioning God’s goodness or competence?

God sends meat. Truckloads of meat. And then He disciplines them. So what does this mean, if you complain God will drop you? No. We need to remember that God disciplines. He inflicts pain for redemptive purposes, to rescue us. We are naive if we think we are immune to correction. When we entertain a spirit of complaint against God, God does discipline.

So…transformational growth happens in the land between. Trust me here, God says. Israel is an unruly mob indoctrinated in idolatry. They are not ready for the Promised Land. They were a people of slavery and they must become the people of God. This time, in the land between, is a time of preparation for them to be God’s people. God says, “I need you to learn to trust me here, at this place.”

Here we learn to pray. Here we learn to depend. It does not happen automatically; time does not automatically heal, in the land between time can make us bitter and acidic. The time we spend in the land between will determine who we will be in the future. We learn about faith (or not) here; we die here or we grow here.

Complaint, in the land between, comes as an uninvited guest. Even as you try to dislodge it, it sneaks back in, it resists eviction. Good pushes out bad, but bad also pushes out good. We need to keep inviting trust back. Even when we don’t “get it” we need to keep inviting it back.

I have visited the “land between” more than once. Sometimes I am there a few days, weeks. I have been in and out of there over the course of a year and years. I do not like it there. I do not like the sense of waiting, of walking in circles; I definitely don’t like it when the land between is painful. But Manion is right, it is the place where I can hear what is going on between God and I. There is so little furniture in the land between that the room echoes and I am so aware of what is going on inside me.

Sometimes God is just calling me to chill out in the land between; I am just in need of less noise and to be less noisy. God imposes rest on me and wants to make lunch for me but I am itching to move. In this kind of “in between” I need to just sit down a while. I say, “I don’t want to be here anymore!” and I hear God’s Spirit say, “Just stay; I am here.”

In the land between I see a lot of things in me: sometimes impatience, sometimes selfishness sometimes bitterness like barnacles beginning to attach itself and I am reminded of what I never wanted to be: bitter. So why am I bitter? I am reminded that I have always said that I never wanted to run away. So why am I running? I let Him chip off the barnacles; I let Him nudge me to move towards, instead of away. But don’t misunderstand me; this is a messy process. I don’t glide in the land between; I am clumsy; I am half a disappointment but I am seeing God do His best work here.

I really don’t like that; I want God’s best work to be somewhere in the two green areas (the one behind or the one ahead). If there is one thing I am getting though, it’s this: when we say, “God’s timing and our timing are different” this is really, really, really true. I believe God could spend all day in between because “it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose.” (Philippians 2:14)

– Teresa Klassen (http://www.onebrownleaf.wordpress.com)

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