Heaven

I have been spending a lot of time outside this week. The season has turned and Phoenix is glorying in her beautiful spring.

It's been about 75 degrees outside all week.

Every day is filled with warm and embracing sunshine.

This is heaven for me. I lay on the ground and stare at the blue blue sky, the spotless white clouds, and the still bare tree branches. All I can think about is what life will be like when everything is restored. What will the new Jerusalem be like?

I imagine fresh, clean, abundant air.

Never too hot. Never too cold.

Open windows filled with the smell of lilac and lavender.

Bare feet on soft green grass.

No one is crippled, disfigured, broken, or tormented.

Just free, joyful, alive people filling the streets, the fields, their homes with beauty and laughter.

Jesus, our King, walking the streets. He knows us all and stops to talk and laugh.

Celebrations every day. Peace and stillness in the solitude of the surrounding hills.

But we're never really alone. We never need to get away.

Yoga without sore or tired limbs.

Singing and music filling the air.

Fresh food overflowing from tables and trees and hillsides.

Never a sad or distressed moment.

Only joy. The kind of joy we cannot even begin to describe.

And we have nothing to compare it to. We think that too much happiness, too much peace, would overwhelm us.

We have never existed without sorrow, without sadness.

But we will be free. We will run and never grow weary.

We will soar.

Jesus will be the light that fills our every moment. His powerful act of Rescue will have been finally, completely fulfilled.

Heaven. The new Jerusalem. The new earth.

I want to soak in it. I want to swim in the expectation of what is ahead.

And I want to remember to live it now. Live in the full hope of what is prepared for us.

It's easy to do when there are weeks like this...

Clinging to Hope

....then you will lift up your face without shame; you will stand firm and without
fear. You will surely forget your trouble, recalling it only as waters
gone by. Life will be brighter than noonday, and darkness will become
like morning. You will be secure, because there is hope; you will look
about you and take your rest in safety. You will lie down, with no one
to make you afraid, and many will court your favor.

Job 11:15-19

Fearless

In Holy Yoga we practice several Mudras. A mudra is a positioning of the hands used to direct the flow of energy.

Mudras are significant...

Because the hands are the last thing anyone is thinking about. Everyone focuses first on the positioning of the body, on the breath, and on the intention of the practice.

The hands are forgotten. And the posture is left unfinished. The fingertips hang without any attention given to them at all.

But, when we place our awareness on something so small, yet so powerful, it changes our practice. Mudras really do change the energy of the posture. There is a sense of power, of fire, of upward lifting, of encouragement - in simply extending your fingertips.

And are we ever really aware of what our hands are doing?

We wander around on our giant planet, living our individual lives, dumping our energy into nothingness.

We don't give much attention to where we direct our energy. We just get the job done. We just DO.

And all that energy is pouring out of us all of the time.

We position ourselves to run the race... but we don't have any energy left.

If you're anything like me, you are often clenching your fists tight; refusing to relinquish control.

The mudra of my life is often one of retaining. I am too afraid to stretch my fingers open...

To let go of the things I love.

I hold my kids, my marriage, my friendships, my holy yoga practice, my position in holy yoga - ALL of it - in the tight grip of my closed fists.

God has been using sorrow to pry my fingers apart. He has been gently and firmly asking me to let go.

And it is only in brokenness that I can even consider another life mudra.

I really don't want to resist God. I really don't want to try to control, or hold, everything so tightly.

I want to be King David - when someone moves against me to take something I love...

Can I say, "God gave it to me. He can take it away if he wants. It's not mine to fight for."

Can I spread my fingers wide, press my palms to the sun, savor the feeling of those tiny grains of sand spilling through my fingers?

Can I bring my awareness to my hands?

Can I stand with a fearless mudra, radiating surrender... peace from every single fingertip?

Tonight someone quoted St Augustine...

"God is always trying to give good things to us, but our hands are too full to receive them."

My hands are overflowing.

And, everywhere I turn, I can hear God offering me something better.

I just have to open my hands. I have to be intentional.

A person of intention.

So.

Fearless hands. Fearless, open, brilliant hands.

And back to the original calling.

Be free.

Deep Exhale...

I made You promises a thousand times
I tried to hear from Heaven
But I talked the whole time
I think I made You too small
I never feared You at all No
If You touched my face would I know You?
Looked into my eyes could I behold You?


What do I know of You
Who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
But the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury?
Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

I guess I thought that I had figured You out
I knew all the stories and I learned to talk about
How You were mighty to save
Those were only empty words on a page
Then I caught a glimpse of who You might be
The slightest hint of You brought me down to my knees


What do I know of You
Who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
But the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury?
Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?


What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of wounds that will heal my shame?
And a God who gave life "its" name?
What do I know of Holy?
Of the One who the angels praise?
All creation knows Your name
On earth and heaven above
What do I know of this love?


What do I know of You
Who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
But the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury?
Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of Holy?


What Do I Know of Holy? Addison Road

The Little Way

It is becoming more and more clear that God has led me, not only to this practice of spiritual disciplines, but also to the order in which to practice them.

As I've come to this aching brokenness, so aware of what I have tried to hide from God, I can finally see this simple truth - he must become more; i must become less.

How do you strangle selfishness?

I guess by choosing a life of selflessness.

How do you shift your inner gaze away from self loathing?

By eating the Word of God - consuming it until it nourishes every cell, every atom of your existence.

How do you replace an idol of self?

By stepping aside so God can take his rightful place on the throne of your life.

He must become more. I must become less.

And this week I've started the practice of The Little Way. If you have never heard of St Therese of Lisieux, now is the time to find her.

Her short life was startlingly, boldly small. She chose the way of a child in everything she did.

She chose to be less, to take The Little Way.

She chose Jesus before her own comfort or desire.

And she lived free, with an immense sense of the great grace of God. She was determined that she would have been just as consumed by his saturating grace if she had ever fallen into a horrible sin and been rescued from it.

She knew God as a father.

She chose his way. Always his way.

I choose my own way more often than not.

And my flesh is chafing at this sudden change. God's way is stretched out before me, requiring everything. Everything.

I am choosing his way. I don't want to be mastered by my bondage anymore. I don't want to give in to behavior that keeps me spiraling into self loathing.

I want to eat some damn food without seeing it's effect in my body. I want to see my passing reflection without cringing. I want to put my husband's addictions outside of what defines me. I want to be free. Free. So free.

Abundantly free.

Jesus, take me on the Little Way.

Make me small. Make me less.

May freedom explode all around me, blazing with sunlight, filling my lungs with clean air.

Knead out every toxin, everything that contaminates me. Do the work.

And as *Much Afraid said, "Bind me to the altar. I don't want to be found struggling against the work of my Shepherd."


*Hind's Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard

God Alone

I've been anguishing all day. I'm still running from God. STILL running.

I went for a walk in the desert before dinner. I went alone and found a trail that led off of the main trail, through a little valley.

In the very center of these two small mountains was a chair made of stones. I guess someone thought it was a good place to just sit.

So I sat. Alone.

And I wrestled with God. I kept heaving this unbelievably overwhelming burden towards him. All of my loneliness; all of my despair; all of my inner sickness; all of my disappointed hopes... everything.

I sat very still and listened to my own breath. I listened to the wind falling into the same rhythm as my heartbeat. I listened to other people passing me by. I listened and I waited.

I kept asking God for SOMETHING. I need a message... a single word. Anything.

And the entire time I felt the immense weight of my idolatry. Is it enough to WANT to be free?

Is it enough?

At the end of my few moments alone all I could ask for is for help. I am too weak. I may get a single breath of free air, but I will fall back into my behavior the moment I feel my own insignificance growing again.

And it is growing. It just keeps growing.

I guess that is what happens when you finally look that demon in the eye. It all becomes so clear. My entire life has been permeated by the lie... it MUST be a lie.

Because I know that God says that I am HIS. I am clean. I am free. I am forgiven. I am worth more than his own comfort. I am a price worth paying. I am sculpted by his own hand.

So, this voice that keeps telling me how distorted, forgotten, and hopeless I am HAS to be the voice of my enemy. My only enemy. That old snake.

I came home broken. So, so broken.

And then I talked to my girlfriend. We talked about where she is... it was startlingly familiar. How can two people be experiencing the same exact circumstances?

Our battle is the same. What introduced that sticky lie is different, but the result is the same. And I realized, while listening to her heart cry out like mine has been and hearing what God has spoken to her, that God was responding to my hungering for a message. He was answering me through her mirroring anguish. He spoke hope to her. She spoke hope to me.

So God hasn't forgotten.

And, somehow, freedom must be an option. It must be true.

What is required of me is a true death. A death for that looming idol of self. A death of my self destructive behavior and of the lie that has rooted itself into the very center of my life.

I must get off that throne.

God MUST sit there, firm and rooted.

God alone.

God alone...

Shame

Yesterday Alisa told the first story like this:

"Adam and Eve sinned. They realized they were naked and they were ashamed. So they hid. God called to them, 'Adam, where are you?' God knew where they were. He was asking if THEY knew where they were."

I've been thinking about this since she said it.

Because sin, selfishness, has exposed me.

And shame has forced me to hide.

I've been hiding from God all day. And how ridiculous is that?

Where could I ever go to hide from God? I could never go far enough.

Yet, I still try.

I'm hiding because I have become aware of the great effect shame has had on my life. Shame shapes my actions, my words, my thoughts.

I am ashamed of who I am so I choose not to eat.

I am ashamed of who I am not so I judge the first person I lay eyes on.

And I am ashamed of being ashamed.

Shame makes me impatient, unkind, ungenerous, fearful.... shame makes me lost.

Today I heard God call out to me, "Stephanie, where are you?"

Not because God doesn't know where I am.

But because God wants ME to know where I am.

He wants me to say it out loud. Confess my debilitating shame. Release the idol of self that has been in my firm grip since the first time I bowed down to my own flesh. Let go. Acknowledge that I am exposed and naked. Admit that sin is crouching at my door.

Sin desires to master me, the way it did Adam and Eve. The way it did Cain. The way it did King David.

Sin is my enemy. Because sin makes me hide, foolishly, from my only hope of Rescue.

So, tonight, I'm saying out loud over and over again. "I'm here, God. Naked and ashamed. I'm stuck in a deep, thick mess. Clothe me again. Wash me and I will be clean."

It really, truly is a choice. What will master me? What will I bow my heart to?

....then you will lift up your face without shame; you will stand firm and without fear. You will surely forget your trouble, recalling it only as waters gone by. Life will be brighter than noonday, and darkness will become like morning. You will be secure, because there is hope; you will look about you and take your rest in safety. You will lie down, with no one to make you afraid, and many will court your favor.
Job 11:15-19