A path that stretches before us like no other path.

Preserve my life from fear. Psalm 64:1

The existence of the Church bears witness to the belief that there is only one thing you can say to such a view and that is that it is wrong. There is only one answer you can give to terrible sanity, that this material cosmos is all that there ever will be, and that is that it is ultimately insane. The ancient myths and dreams of a power beyond power and love beyond love that hold the cosmos itself, hold all things, in existence reflect a reality which we can deny only to our great impoverishment, and the dream a holiness and mystery at the heart of things that humankind with all its ingenuity and wisdom can neither explain away nor live fully without goes on being dreamed. Moments continue to go up in flames like the bush in Midian to illumine, if only for a moment, a path that stretches before us like no other path. And such moments call out in a voice which, if we only had courage and heart enough, we would follow to the end of time. -Frederick Buechner

Following Jesus will mean surrendering the power that masquerades as security in order to love the neighbor and welcome the stranger. It will mean avoiding the safe path in order to pursue the good. But in a culture of fear, we find such risks all the more difficult since our natural inclinations lead us to close in on ourselves when we face danger. How can we maintain the posture of the open hand toward a world that scares us? – Scott Bader

You alone secure us in our place, O Lord, in our going out and coming in, deliver us from fear, that we may, by your Spirit’s power, let down our defenses in love. Amen

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you : wherever He may send you;

May He guide you through the wilderness : protect you through the storm:

May He bring you home rejoicing : at the wonders He has shown you:

May He bring you home rejoicing : once again into our doors.

Mom and I are up at the cabin once again watching the sun rise up over the Catalinas.

O Lord, let my soul rise up to meet You as the day rises to meet the sun.

The wind is rustling through the pine trees.

Speak Holy Spirit, your servant is listening.

 

Fear. Facebook reminded me today about Fear. There is a scary shot of the mountain Nicole and I had to go up and over before tapas and wine and bed that night. And I sure can remember the gut-wrenching Fear as I stared up, up, upward. And yet I also so remember the moment when I chose to roll past the terror into breathtaking glory.

The Church.

Mom and I are crazy church-hoppers.

For four hours Saturday we joined with Vineyard City and not-so-very-carefully counted out poblano chiles after first running rather grimy and sticky fingers over them for squishy spots to hundreds of people who formed a long line in the hot sun that reached around the corner, out of sight. And the Church laughed and hugged and drank bottle after bottle of warm water and we still felt dizzy and weak-kneed but it was okay, because we were together. Along with a truckload of very ripe produce.

And yesterday morning I buried myself into the embrace of Joann at Price Chapel African American Methodist Episcopal Church and we walked up the steps to the big brown double doors arm-in-arm. And she handed the Bible over to me and asked me to lead the adult Bible study again, reading about Mr. Gideon and the call on his small life by the Mighty God while he hid full of fear by the winepress beating out his wheat, even though I have missed the past two weeks and I was leaving early. And my brothers and sisters still want to welcome me into full membership of the body on the Sunday before I get on that plane, as I drop my nets and follow Him to the other side of the world, which is a big deal. And the Church will lay hands on me and pray for me, not so much for my safety and that He will bring me home rejoicing once again into these doors, but mostly that I might be full of His light as I love my neighbor and welcome the stranger.

And then I drove over and picked up Wen Xie, my International Friend.  Seven arrived at the University of Arizona in January to study architecture, but she has already gotten herself into a hard place, she got herself pregnant. And even though the terrible sanity of the world would scream “abortion” or at least “adoption” something in her soul whispered that this would be cruel, so I have been walking alongside her up this very steep climb. And I am leaving. And she asked if I went to church, and I had to smile a bit as I asked her if she wanted to come with me, and when she said yes, I knew I had to take her to Vineyard Christian Community. The Church who greeted her with great intentionality and warmth and the worship was glorious with the truth clearly declared on the wall even though the sermon was way over her vocabulary, and she was very happy to hear of a power beyond power and love beyond love that the grave could not hold.

And tonight the ladies from Northminster Presbyterian are going to gather together at my momma’s one more time before summer and read aloud yet another chapter of The Broken Way, the only way to love an aching world. And we will consider mystery at the heart of things that humankind with all its ingenuity and wisdom can neither explain away nor live fully. And we will lift each other up in prayer, praying for strength and courage as we journey through complications and pain and the doubts that besiege each of us. And I know that this Church is faithful and that I am held in each heart as each is held in mine, and this is how we maintain the posture of an open hand, to be like His hand, pierced and outstretched.

And wow, every day I get to join the Church, two or three gathered togetherness of Him being in our midst as a dearly beloved friend, one after another, holds hands and enters into His presence with me. And I can see the Spirit connecting each of us, like the roots of a creosote bush reaching outward through the centuries and over the seas and even across the cultures and languages; we all have the same Spirit guiding us with His presence. Connected like Facebook but oh so much more true.

Just up the hill from the tiny cabin is the secret Indian cave. That is shared by everyone.  Everyone on the mountain, under twelve-years-old, that is, goes to the secret cave to hide in its sweet darkness.

And we all think that our quiet hiding heart place is ours alone, but no, He is there, waiting gentle and gracious, He and His Church, His peacebearers. We are all there.

 May this peace go with me, as I leave the flickering shadowed greens and head into the blistering heat of life.

Selah.

Go low, once again.

Go low.

In God the LORD, whose word I praise, in God I trust and will not be afraid, for what can mortals do to me? Psalm 56:10

…knowing that the One who had called them into this life was able to deliver in all circumstances.     –Rees Howells, Intercessor

So every morning Jack and Pippen come over to deliver the Arizona Daily Star that we share. And every day he asks about my day yesterday, and this morning I replied, “Simply awful.” It was. I felt like one of those soaked huddled bedraggled pelican clinging to a black pointy rock in the middle of a crashing sea.

I spent the day trying to stand strong and firm while angry children flung themselves at me and pummeled me with their words and rolled eyeballs and sneers and loud profanities and slammed books onto the floor and utter disengagement in the learning process.

And today His word was new. Once again, again and again. I received the command, “Go low.” Dive under the wave. Strong and smooth and focused. Go low.

And of course every teacher (and grandmother of a two-year-old) has this mantra pounded into her head: Choose your battles. But today the LORD God Almighty has declared that the battle is His and none are mine, and that I am to let Him wield the sword.

And once again I am grateful for the stories of ol’ He of Little Faith Gideon. And God was patient with him and showed him again and again that He Is Enough. It is not about me. Step down and watch Me do My thing.

And one of those jillion of articles floating around the internet is about stress and how really stress is not an issue. What is an issue is fear. And it is always pretty fun to hear ol’ Brandon talk about this his passion, to deal with stress without fear, but with trust, like when weird winds suddenly toss his little plane on a solo flight across the desert. Or how an EMT responds to a disaster, like the flipped over car right in front of our house yesterday afternoon.

Go low. Strong and smooth and focused.

Soft is stronger than hard.

Water is stronger than rock.

And the Audry Assad songs of the morning, back and forth to swimming:

From the fear of serving others

From the fear of death or trial

From the fear of humility

Deliver me O God

Deliver me O God

And I shall not want, I shall not want

When I taste Your goodness I shall not want

And

Strange and sweet collision of justice and mercy

Your burden is light and Your yoke is easy

I know, I know, and I believe You are the Lord

I know, I know, and I believe You are the Lord

Help my unbelief.

I will not be afraid.

Stand back and you will be amazed.

Worry does not empty tomorrow of sorrow, it empties today of strength. -Corrie ten Boom

Let your loving-kindness, O LORD, be upon us, as we have put our trust in You. Psalm 33:22

The mountains are beautiful. I think that there was particular joy in watching Emily, Chuyi’s mom enjoys the sunlit towering pines for the first time. The freshness, the scrambling birds, the little fish-filled stream were so beyond her expectations as she nestled down into the curtain-drapy cushion thing Nicole had arranged for her. Things are pretty dry and crusty as one starts heading up the Catalina Highway. There is no way to know what lies beyond all of those curvy roads.

And I was pretty fussy as Nicole urged me down down down some of those hills. Because I knew that they involved correlating and quite daunting uphills. And she kept laughing about the beautiful views while I sort of grumbled. But you know, of course, the uphills were not that scary, once I started. Which yet again is a true reminder of the futility of worry and fear. They both only suck the joy out of the moment. Of the bright blue skies overlooking glowing cliffs in all directions. And whatever the future brings, it is outside of our imagination. That is His promise. Don’t worry about anything. Instead pray about everything. And don’t forget to thank Him for His answers. If you do this, you will experience God’s peace which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand.

Maybe that is why God says over and over, in every possible voice and circumstance: Fear not, for I the LORD am with you.

Just maybe.

Why, I don’t know anything more exhilarating and delightful than turning weakness into strength.

Help me, O LORD my God; save me for your mercy’s sake. Psalm 109:25

O God, the strength of all who put their trust in you: Mercifully accept my prayers; and because in my weakness I can do nothing good without you, give me the help of your grace, that in keeping your commandments I may please you in both will and deed; through Jesus Christ my Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

“She bent forward to look, then gave a startled little cry and drew back. There was indeed a seed lying in the palm of his hand, but it was shaped exactly like a long, sharply-pointed thorn… ‘The seed looks very sharp,’ she said shrinkingly. ’Won’t it hurt if you put it into my heart?’

He answered gently, ‘It is so sharp that it slips in very quickly. But, Much-Afraid, I have already warned you that Love and Pain go together, for a time at least. If you would know Love, you must know pain too.’ Hannah Hurnard, Hinds Feet on High Places

So it happened again. That very clear, specific whisper of truth early in the morning. And very unexpected. Really I was just sitting at the dining room table, feeling a little sad, when the Voice said, “Read Hind’s Feet on High Places.” Really? Really. Unmistakably.

So I rummaged around on the backs of shelves. I actually had a slightly worn copy of the book somewhere, which I had tried to read before on the recommendation of a very respected Margaret, but found it tedious every time.

And this time each word pierced my soul, much like the thorn which the Shepherd slid into Much-Afraid’s heart.

And the book spoke of one whose eyes were on her shortcomings, rather than lifted up to the beauty all around. And one who listened to the pervasive whisperings of her kinfolk, rather than the shining boldness of the Shepherd. And one who looked down in doubt, rather than believing that she could be the beloved of the King.

And a couple of years ago, I was sitting in some airport or the other on one of my accreditation trips. And I glanced over at the guy next to me with a book. “What are you reading?”

He looked up. “I just finished it, and it is for you. God wants me to give you this book.” It was the Song of Songs, a new translation. A slim paperback that has haunted my To Read shelf until now. Because interwoven throughout Hinds Feet is the song for the Beloved, a song of His great love for her.

So I am headed up into the mountains in a week or two for a silent retreat. And I was wondering what I should take with me. Not too much lest I be distracted from what He has to say to me, but something to pull me back onto the path if I get lost. And now I know. The Song of Songs.

Then He pressed the thorn into her heart. It was true, just as He had said, it did cause a piercing pain, but it slipped in quickly and then, suddenly, a sweetness she had never felt or imagined before tingled through her. It was bittersweet, but the sweetness was the stronger. She thought of the Shepherd’s words, ‘It is so happy to love,’ and her pale, sallow cheeks suddenly glowed pink and her eyes shown. For a moment Much-Afraid did not look afraid at all.”

And.

“The High Places,” answered the Shepherd, “are the starting places for the journey down to the lowest place in the world. When you have hinds’ feet and can go ‘leaping on the mountains and skipping on the hills,’ you will be able, as I am, to run down from the heights in the gladdest self-giving and then go up to the mountains again. You will be able to mount to the High Places swifter than eagles, for it is only up on the High Places of Love that anyone can receive the power to pour themselves down in an utter abandonment of self-giving.”

Selah.