This is what I know about spiritual formation (so far)

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by Elizabeth

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An Anglican priest ruined it for me. He ruined the phrase “enter the presence of God.”

I was at a Lenten prayer service last year when he said, “Let us become present to the Lord, for He is always present to us.” I knew what he was saying was true, for I’d learned it in other areas of my life (Psalm 139 anyone?). So what he said was more a vocabulary lesson than a course correction.

God is always present and available to us, and I can no longer say with integrity that we “enter the Lord’s presence” during a worship service. In fact, now when I hear that phrase from others, I start to tune out. What I can say with integrity is that we can choose to become present to the Lord.

So with that in mind, here’s everything I know about becoming present to the Lord. In other words, here’s everything I know about spiritual formation (so far).

 

1. Regular, private devotional times with God.

I’ve talked about this a lot before and how it’s changed my life, so I won’t rehash it here. I’ll just summarize my low-pressure method for cultivating intimacy with God:

  • Don’t feel guilty for short times with God
  • Don’t feel guilty if you can’t keep up with a fast-paced Bible-reading plan
  • Don’t feel guilty for deviating from your plans
  • Don’t feel guilty about skipping times.

 

2. Meeting with other believers for corporate worship.

The Church has been key to my spiritual growth. I go into a worship service expecting God to speak to me through songs, sermons, and prayers. And He does.

I’d like to quote Misty Edwards here on the mystery of corporate worship: “Musical worship involves a physical voice, physical sound waves that actually move through the air and strike your ear, go into your mind, into your emotions and spirit.” She also noted that “Musical worship is how the Body becomes One.”

I cannot downplay the importance of the Church in my spiritual life; neither can I downplay the importance of my private devotional life. I need both.

 

3. Small group Bible studies and other intimate forms of community.

I’ve talked about this before, but for years in the States I was part of a small ladies’ Bible study. I learned so much about life and faith from those (mostly older) women. They empathized with my struggles and prayed me through some of my darkest days. Most of what I know about Grace, I learned with them.

These days my teammates function as my small group. We share sorrows and joys together and pray for and support each other. I’m so thankful for people who listen to, accept, pray for, and advise the “real me.”

 

4. Getting counseling.

Sometimes personal devotionals, corporate worship, and talking with trusted people are enough to work through my issues; sometimes they are not. I’ve had several key breakthroughs in my life because of counselors (both licensed professional counselors and pastoral counselors), and I cannot overstate the importance of sometimes getting outside help. I would not be where I am today in my relationship with God and my relationship with others without the help and intervention of those counselors.

 

Well there you have it, everything I know about spiritual formation (so far). What would you add to my list?

7 Tips for Stayers and Goers

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by Elizabeth

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As a military kid I grew up hearing about these things called “Hail and Farewells.” I didn’t really know what they were; I didn’t even know it was two separate words. I thought of it more as “hailenfarewell” and was at a complete loss as to what it was.

But as I began to contemplate this upcoming season of expatriate goodbyes, I couldn’t get the phrase out of my mind. So naturally I went to my mom and asked her to tell me everything she remembered about Hail and Farewells. Her answers blew me away with their spiritual applications.

Let’s have a look, shall we?

1. “Hail and Farewells were an integral part of military life. Whether we were stationed at a military installation or a university in the States, or were stationed abroad, we all took part in these monthly events.” Hellos and goodbyes happen at regular intervals, and they touch the entire community. Nobody gets to skip out on the goodbyes (or hellos), and nobody is immune to the transience – either the Leaver or the Stayer.

2. “It always involved food, whether it was at someone’s home and everyone brought food, or at a restaurant and we purchased our meal.” Ok, so we need food. It’s perhaps kind of obvious, but this answer stood out to me. As humans we celebrate—and mourn—with food.

3. “They were usually more dressy events, except those that were barbeques, etc. There was always a gift, usually a memento that represented your unit and also some kind of plaque that commemorated your time there.  Oftentimes others would gift you with items that spoke personally to the officer leaving.” Whether we’re leaving or whether we’re staying, we honor our friends with something special. Whether it’s a physical gift representing our relationship or our country of service (for the gift-givers among us), a special event (for the quality-timers among us), or something else, we don’t let them fade away without that special honor.

4. “The commanding officer would do the introductions of new people, and we would find out where they came from and a little about them and their family. Then the farewells were saved for last with the usual good things said about people. Those that worked closest with the departing officer would also have an opportunity to share about them.” We honor the newcomers by trying to find out a little about them. And we honor the Leavers by sharing our cherished memories about them.

5. “Something I always saw in the groups we were in was the total willingness to accept and ‘get behind’ a new commanding officer. Oftentimes the departing commander was beloved and the idea of someone else coming in and taking over could be hard in a way, but your dad and I and others were intentional about welcoming and following new commanders just as we followed the departing one.” This gets to the heart of welcoming new people, whether they’re in leadership over us or not. Being new is hard, and the least we can do is welcome new people even as we say a painful goodbye to beloved friends. Whether we’re the Leaver or the Stayer, no one can replace our friends, but our hearts can expand to love more people.

6. “We were usually notified about 6 months in advance of our new duty station, and something strange and wonderful always happened after we found out where and when. Usually it was met with, ‘Uh, okay,’ but that time in between notification and actually leaving, our minds turned it into something good that we were actually looking forward to, and we were very ready to leave.” If circumstances allow (and I know they don’t always allow), we plan time between the decision to leave and the actual leaving. That time gives us the space to say goodbye well to people and places, to mentally and physically prepare ourselves for the next step, and to physically and mentally prepare our friends and co-workers for our departure. We realize that nothing can completely prepare us for our next stage, but a little time to reflect and say goodbye is helpful.

7. “It was sad to say goodbye, but many times we figured we’d meet up again.” To a certain extent, expatriate life also allows us to meet up again. (And I’m always thankful when that happens!) But even if we never see each other again on earth, as Christians we know we will meet again in Heaven, and (at least for me) that reminder does cheer the aching heart.

 So to recap my mom’s advice:
  1.  We accept that hellos and goodbyes will happen regularly.
  2.  Sharing food is a good way to commemorate these hellos and goodbyes.
  3.  Whether we’re departing or staying, we need to honor our friendships at each goodbye.
  4.  We need to welcome new people into our lives too.
  5.  We accept that goodbyes are hard.
  6.  When possible, we need to make space and time for these goodbyes.
  7.  We remember we will meet again, whether on earth or in heaven.

This time of year is painful. I will not deny that. April and May are months of many tears for me. I’ve written about these heart-rending goodbyes before. Each year I feel the feelings afresh, and sometimes I fear they will break me. But I do want us, as the Body of Christ, to carry on in a way that honors both our earthly fellowship and our faith in a mysterious God. With that in mind I offer you my Expat Manifesto:

We acknowledge that we will always have Hail and Farewells. We will bid farewell to our people. We will honor them with our tears, with our laughter, with our food, with our stories, with our hugs, and with our time. And we will bid farewell to seasons, whether satisfying or sad. We will welcome new people. We will honor them with our open (though sometimes wounded) hearts and remember that they may one day be our old people. We will remember that in Christ goodbye is never forever, but only for a time. And with Christ as our Anchor, we will embrace each new season, whether dreaded or longed for. We will Hail, and we will Farewell: This is how we carry on.

–

What traditions do you have for Hailing and Farewelling?

How do you carry on?

 

(Originally published at Velvet Ashes and reprinted here with permission.)

A Few of My Favorite Things {May 2016}

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Wow, I cannot believe it’s the end of May already! There were so many things to be thankful for in May. Here’s a run-down on the real-life blessings and my favorite books, blog posts, songs, and quotes. ~Elizabeth

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Rain. May showers brought cooler weather to Cambodia. I cannot tell you what a relief it’s been. I’m not gonna lie, it was so hot here I couldn’t bear to leave my air conditioned bedroom in the morning to go to my bright, sunny, steaming living room to talk to God. Instead I stayed in bed where it was cool. So the cooler weather meant it was cool enough (just barely) to leave my dark, depressing cave of a bedroom to go to the living room to read in the morning. The cooler weather also meant we could reclaim the living room for family dance parties and devotionals at night.

The power of prayer. Sometimes I’m too self-reliant, and I neglect to ask people to pray for me. This month my spirits dipped so low that I actually asked for prayer, and God delivered in a big way.

The power of confiding in true friends. Sometimes I’m so independent that I think no one else shares my same struggles, and I forget to talk to my friends. Again, this month I had the chance to talk to other moms and remembered all over again why confessing our faults to one another is so important.

An afternoon by myself to go swimming. Jonathan gave me the afternoon off when he returned from Europe. I went to a local hotel swimming pool to read and swim. I cannot tell you how peaceful it is for me to float on my back in the water. I don’t know why it’s so soothing for me, but I could float there all day.

A working piano. I’ve been longing for a working piano for several months now, as I need time to sit by myself and sing and play the piano. Someone conveniently delivered  the needed piano part to Jonathan when he was in Europe.

 

BOOKS

The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis. This installment of Narnia has always been my favorite, and I relished sharing it with my children and even watching them fall as much in love with Puddleglum as I always was. And as indicated by the quotes in the section below, The Silver Chair provided some greatly needed (though not greatly desired) spiritual conviction.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. A story of transformation — and I do love me a good transformation story. A Little Princess (which we read last month) is fun, albeit with a slow plot, and the main character is static, making the story more providential than transformative. But in The Secret Garden, the sour characters pull you in right away, and they actually change in meaningful ways.

Dear Mr. Knightly by Katherine Reay. This one’s a beach read for sure, but you know what? I needed a beach read this month. Plus it’s got all the universal themes of love & belonging, plus a healthy dose of literary allusions, so what’s not to love? The story follows a former foster kid as a young adult, and though I don’t relate to that part of her story, I definitely relate to her lack of belonging and her propensity to get lost in her head and in her books and to forget to connect with humans in real life. It has a Cinderella ending that becomes fairly predictable about halfway through, but as I’ve said before, I do love me a Cinderella story.

 

BLOG POSTS

How do we recognize and cope with trauma? from Kay Bruner’s Ask a Counselor series. I especially appreciated the part about how the body remembers trauma and the designation of “little t” trauma. This piece reminded me of this next piece from Marilyn Gardner:

The Frozen Sadness of Ambiguous Loss. Marilyn privately sent me some of the quotes in this post when I was having a hard time processing through TCK loss issues, but these concepts apply all across the board, not just to TCKs.

“How is your walk with God? (and other questions Jesus never asked) by Addie Zierman. Marvelous. Addie points out the types of questions Jesus actually asked, questions like

“Who are you looking for?” (John 20:15)
“Who do you say that I am?” (Matthew 16:13-15)
“Why are you so afraid?” (Matthew 8:26)
“What do you want me to do for you?” (Matthew 20:32-22)
“Do you want to get well?” (John 5:6)

10 Questions to Ask Instead of “How’s your walk with God?” also by Addie Zierman. I’ve heard that the classic spiritual direction question is “Where is God meeting you?” I love that question, and the other questions Addie offers here.

Helping Bono Find What He’s Looking For by Andrew Peterson. Such a great perspective by someone whose music and lyrics are really refreshing. (I say that as someone who also appreciated the Bono/Eugene Peterson video.)

 

MUSIC

God is Able by Hillsong. We sang this song at church at the beginning of this month, and even with my sorry attitude, it was in my head for weeks during those blasted power outages: when I slept and when I woke and everything in between.

How Can I Keep From Singing by Chris Tomlin. This is the song that came to mind when my husband was out of town and the power went off, yet I didn’t freak out. It’s old and came out of nowhere; I figured it had to be God.

Here’s My Heart by David Crowder. Especially the phrase “You are light breaking through.”

Hosanna (Praise is Rising) by Brenton Brown and Paul Baloche.

Stronger by Hillsong.

 

PODCASTS AND MOVIES

Hope*Writers podcast. I feel like Emily is me right down to the last detail. This podcast talks about lots of things I’ve been processing through with Jonathan. You can find them on the link in soundcloud, or you can search Hope*Writers on iTunes. The episodes “When it doesn’t look like plenty,” “Myquillin’s system for taking a break,” and “The day I realized I had a job” are especially powerful. I am very picky about what I consider an encouraging, uplifting podcast, and I am happy to say Hope*Writers is one of those, along with Sarah Mackenzie’s Read Aloud Revival.

McFarland, USA. This movie’s got it all: home and belonging, fear and safety, crossing cultural, linguistic, and economic barriers, father-son issues, father-daughter issues, poverty, systemic injustice, you name it, this movie’s got it all. We watched it as a family; I often find secular movies “get” and present universal themes so much better than Christian movies — but that’s a topic for another day!

 

QUOTES

Marilyn Gardner’s comment on Jonathan’s The Gaping Hole in the Modern Missions Movement:

“The homily was on suffering and he referred a lot to the Psalms. One of the things he said, I will never forget because I’ve never heard this said before but he said that when it comes to suffering, we are always between My God, My God – why have you forsaken me?’ and ‘Into your hands I commit my spirit.’ And is that not so true with the Psalms? Are we not between: Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me?’ and ‘Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.'”

C.S. Lewis in The Silver Chair:

After adventuring a long time and being cold, tired, dirty, and lost, and being promised physical comforts from an (unbeknownst to them) evil witch. This was a little too convicting.

“They could think of nothing but beds and baths and hot meals and how lovely it would be to get indoors. They never talked about Aslan, or even the lost prince, now. And Jill gave up her habit of repeating the signs over to herself every night and morning. She said to herself, at first, that she was too tired, but she soon forgot all about it. And though you might have expected that the idea of having a good time at Harfang would have made them more cheerful, it really made them more sorry for themselves and more grumpy and more snappy with each other and with Puddleglum.”

About the forever-seeming-ness of waiting and the wondering if it will ever stop (answer: it will):

“Presently they were given food – flat, flabby cakes of some sort which had hardly any taste. And after that, they gradually fell asleep. But when they woke, everything was just the same; the gnomes still rowing, the ship still gliding on, still dead blackness ahead. How often they woke and slept and ate and slept again, none of them could ever remember. And the worst thing about it was that you began to feel as if you had always lived on that ship, in that darkness, and to wonder whether sun and blue skies and wind and birds had not been only a dream.”

Elizabeth Esther on forgiveness, grace, and boundaries in Spiritual Sobriety:

“If our mistakes are strong enough to compromise God’s acceptance of us, isn’t that the same as saying our mistakes are stronger than God?”

“When someone shows you his character, believe him.” (SO profound)

“We may really want someone to stay in our lives, but if that person regularly makes us feel bad, we’ve got be honest about it. Pretending others can’t hurt us is like pretending we don’t feel pain when someone steps on our toes.”

“No matter when or with whom we set boundaries, we often need to grieve the relationship that never was and never will be.”

“I don’t forgive someone because he or she deserves it. I forgive my abuser because I deserve it. I deserve to unload the backbreaking burden of unforgiveness. I deserve to release my heart and mind and soul from the distress, obsessive thoughts, and fears that unforgiveness inflicts upon me. I deserve to have my soul space back to myself. Unforgiveness just takes up too much room!”

“True forgiveness means releasing the person from his debt to us and doing so with an open heart, bearing no ill will or resentment.”

“This is how we forgive our abusers: we allow ourselves to see their humanity. I forgave my abusers because I realized that they weren’t evil; they were simply terribly sick people.”

Frances Hodgson Burnett in A Little Princess:

“When the square suddenly seemed to begin to glow in an enchanted way and look wonderful in spite of its sooty trees and railings, Sara knew something was going on in the sky; and when it was at all possible to leave the kitchen without being missed or called back, she invariably stole away and crept up the flights of stairs, and, climbing on the old table, got her head and body as far out of the window as possible. When she had accomplished this, she always drew a long breath and looked all round her. It used to seem as if she had all the sky and the world to herself.” 

(That quote was part of a longer 3-page section that’s a perfect description of the soul’s need for sunset and solitude, something which — due to the high heat — I haven’t fulfilled of late, but which I know I’m craving because the other day I saw part of a sunset and felt so homesick I almost couldn’t bear it.)

And lastly, Kimberlee Conway Ireton on Pentecost in The Circle of Seasons: Meeting God in the Church Year. I knew some of this but not all of it, and I just love the meaning of Passover. For me it is the central story of the Old Testament just as the resurrection is the central story of the New. I loved adding more depth to my appreciation for the Biblical stories.

“Pentecost is the Greek name for a Jewish holy day. According to Leviticus 23, on the Sunday after Passover (the day of Christ’s resurrection), the grain harvest was to begin and a sheaf of barley, the first grain to be harvested, was to be taken to the temple as the firstfruits offering to the Lord. Seven Sabbaths (or fifty days) later, at the commencement of the wheat harvest, a second grain offerin was to be brought to the temple. This feast of the harvest was called Shavuoth, that is, “weeks,” in Hebrew. The Greek word Pentecost means “fiftieth.” On this day, Jews celebrate not just the harvest but also the giving of the Torah to Moses on Mount Sinai. . . . Just as the giving of the Torah to Moses constituted the birth of Israel as a nation and inaugurated their identity as Yahweh’s covenant people, so the giving of the Holy Spirit to the disciples constituted the birth of the church and inaugurated their identity as the Body of Christ.”

“Too often we forget that we are God-bearers and live and speak in ways that misrepresent God to the world. Thanks be to God, none of us is an exclusive bearer of God. In fact, we bear God better together; as the church, the people of God, we bear God more completely (though always incompletely, never fully), because God, too, is community.”

When the lights go out {A Life Overseas}

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Elizabeth is over at A Life Overseas today . . .

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I want to do all the things. All the very good things there are to do in this world. So I overcommit myself. I don’t say “no.” I say “yes” instead, and spread myself too thin. Then my soul suffers. My work suffers. My sanity suffers. My family life suffers. My spiritual life suffers.

I suffer in silence, thinking I’m all alone. I’m the only one failing at everything. I’m the only one who can’t pull it together. I’m the only one who can’t catch my breath, who can’t catch up on work, who can’t catch up on school, who can’t catch up with friends, who can’t catch up with the God I say I love so very much.

And I, insecure missionary blogger that I am, am afraid to tell people.

To top all that off, the heat in Southeast Asia has been crushing me. The past two months have held record highs here, and we get a lot of power cuts. I echo Ramona Quimby in Ramona the Brave who shouted out “Guts! Guts guts guts!” when she wanted to say bad words. Instead, I yell “Cuts! Cuts cuts cuts!” and very nearly lose my mind.

After one particularly grueling 12-hour all-night power outage, something inside me broke — flat out broke. I lost my hope. I began to question everything. Why are we here? Why can’t we live in America? Why exactly do I serve this God of mine? And where the heck is He when I can barely sleep or even breathe in this heat?

I was struggling under the weight of all the expectations I had for myself: be a good mom, be a good wife, be a good home educator, be a good missionary, be a good team leader’s wife, be a good friend, be a good writer, be a good editor, be a good Christ-follower. And I couldn’t do any of it.

Finish reading this post here.

Forced Shut Down

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by Elizabeth

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I don’t shut down my computer on a daily basis. It takes so long for my computer to shut down and later restart that it saves me time not to do it. At least, I think it saves time.

But then my computer starts running hot and slow and loud. Sometimes a little warning box even pops up, telling me it needs to shut down in order to install updates. It needs a reboot so it can download newer, fresher versions of my programs.

Most of the time I ignore the slowly loading programs and pages, the constantly whirring fan, and the overheating machine resting on my toasty, tropical lap. And I click a button and override that pesky little warning box.

Eventually though, my computer forces a shut down. And since I usually haven’t been shutting it down on a regular basis, it can take up to 30 minutes or more to close down, install updates, and restart.

I usually roll my eyes in annoyance when this happens, because I can’t get things done with those 30 minutes! I am instead forced to wait. But after all that waiting, the computer runs cooler and faster and quieter.

I treat myself just like I treat my computer. I don’t shut down on a daily basis. I run my life hot and loud and rushed, and I tell myself it saves time. It’s efficient. It gets things done.

But I’m wrong, and just like my computer, I sometimes need a forced shut down. And this past week, through quite an unexpected channel, I received just that: my husband left town and headed to the mountains of Europe for a work conference.

I dread my husband going out of town like I dread those recurring computer shut downs. But this time, his trip forced a shut down in me — a shut down I desperately needed.

I couldn’t leave the house to work or do ministry. By myself, I couldn’t even do as much at home. So I didn’t try to. I slowed down. I scaled back. We did our basic lessons. Then we played. We read. We laughed. We met with friends.

I rested. I did less. I started gently re-evaluating my plans and priorities. And the week reset me. I’m running better now. Less panic and more patience. Less self-condemnation and more calm. Less internal swelter and more farsightedness.

I probably still need some more reboots. But I’m running quieter and more efficiently. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time. I needed a forced shut down, and thank God, He sent me one.