Aj Schwanz

I’ve been visiting my folks up in Rose Valley for the past week.  It’s my annual “I’m tired of parenting, can the boys and I come stay for a while?” trip, which they always kindly say “Yes.”

Yesterday, in the midst of preparing to go to Big 5 to get New Balance 800 shoes for 40.00 (something my father scouts the ads for on a weekly basis:  gotta stock up on those high numbered New Balances!  No offense to my Nike-employed friends), my dad passed me the Longview Daily News which had an article about Mountain Ministries.  People ask what my dad does up in Rose Valley, and connecting with these folks is a big part of it.  It’s one of the times I see him get so excited that he can’t stop smiling.

Here’s the article, which sums up the ministry much better than I can.  I found the online comments interesting, how passionate people are in their experiences of recovery (whether or not MM “works”).  And here’s another outreach of theirs.  This is what happens when churches/denominations/ministries/people come together – change and transformation.

May we all count our blessings and give back out of our abundance.

Today at Bible Study we were present with an onslaught of Christmas gift opportunities that benefit others through purchase.

• A group of women have created bracelets from beads made in Thailand:  the proceeds go to a house that rescues girls from the sex trade industry.
• A dear friend’s young daughter wants to “buy the farm”:  Her parents turned a picture drawn by the amazing girl into a Christmas card with proceeds going to raise enough money to buy a farm for a village through World Vision.
• A representative from F.I.S.H. shared a promotion sponsored by the Coffee Cottage:  purchase their Christmas Blend, and $2 of every pound purchased goes to F.I.S.H.
• Another friend’s daughter is raising money to go on an orchestra tour by selling locally made jams and syrups.
• NFC is hosting a Make It Yourself Workshop on December 6th.  By signing up for a time slot and paying a minimal fee, the participants are equipped with supplies and personal instruction from very knowledgable and crafty people on how to do things such as make candy, create gift boxes, make memory books, knit and crochet simple projects, etc.  This idea is coupled with our churches participation in The Advent Conspiracy:  spend less on Christmas, give more.  A statistic was given that if Americans put money spent at Christmas towards solving the world’s water crisis, that it would be fixed 45 times over.

The facilitator, one of the most tender-hearted people I know, commented, “Now, I know economic times are hard, and merchants want you to go out and shop, so I do feel a little bit bad about that.”  My wheels started turning (mind you, their idealistic wheels:  if I had realistic wheels, I’d probably be doing rather than yammering about it).

Random thoughts:  what if our way of life is unsustainable (I know:  it’s a fairly obvious answer)?  Why should we spend more and perpetuate an unhealthy system?  When you have those crisis moments, it’s an opportunity to change, or to ignore or make do and limp along until the next crisis.  Like transitioning my sons to sleep through the night:  yes, it stunk.  Yes, we had to get up repeatedly.  But by not giving in, by being consistent, by being committed to doing things differently, it got easier . . . better . . . healthier . . . eventually.  I remember reading in books about establishing healthy patterns with sleep that the author often said, “Just when you’re about to give up, if you stick with it, the tide will turn.”  And each time, that happened.

We’ve been given the gift of a crisis:  will we make do, or will we change?  What is that change we’re called towards?  How do we combat the black pit of consumption?

One thought:  live simply, so others might simply live.  And I’m thinking that living in such a manner requires community . . . .

Another friend and I were Facebook messaging about the food crisis.  She said that the Food Banks are in desperate need for the upcoming holiday and was discerning her call to help.  She mentioned that her family gives, but it’s hard to talk about what to do with others, because we’re supposed to keep our giving to ourselves, not to flaunt it to benefit ourselves. But if we don’t talk in community, however will we be able to act effectively?  What sorts of places or forums can we share such ideas and leadings, to gather together, to equip, to be the hands and feet of Christ?

I heard that Oregon is one of the top five hungriest states.  Where I live!!  Not in rural America, not in the South, but here.  Oregon.  My home state.

Consumption;  too much, not enough.

Again, Isaiah 58 was read today, at Bible Study in a talk on prejudice.

6 “Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?

7 Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe him,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?

8 Then your light will break forth like the dawn,
and your healing will quickly appear;
then your righteousness ^[a] will go before you,
and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.

9 Then you will call, and the LORD will answer;
you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I.
“If you do away with the yoke of oppression,
with the pointing finger and malicious talk,

10 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,
then your light will rise in the darkness,
and your night will become like the noonday.

11 The LORD will guide you always;
he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land
and will strengthen your frame.
You will be like a well-watered garden,
like a spring whose waters never fail.

12 Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins
and will raise up the age-old foundations;
you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls,
Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.

13 “If you keep your feet from breaking the Sabbath
and from doing as you please on my holy day,
if you call the Sabbath a delight
and the LORD’s holy day honorable,
and if you honor it by not going your own way
and not doing as you please or speaking idle words,

14 then you will find your joy in the LORD,
and I will cause you to ride on the heights of the land
and to feast on the inheritance of your father Jacob.”
The mouth of the LORD has spoken.

Tears overwhelmed my eyes (i.e. The Spirit was present!)  The speaker said we need to learn to share the Truth in Love.  I thought about how that means to share the Truth in Christ, because Christ is Love.  But what does that look like?  How do we share the Truth in Love about our economy?  Our life styles?  Our consumption?

Words that come to mind:  Baby steps.  Intentionality.  Community.  Vulnerability.  Listening.  Humility.  Sitting with suffering.  Abiding.

May we be your hands and feet:  to create and further Your Kingdom.  Day by day.

Last night my book group met to discuss A.J. Jacob’s The Year of Living Biblically:  One Man’s Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible.  I’ve heard him speak before and wondered where he was going to go with this:  would the outcome show his experience to be unreasonable, mocking something I hold dear, or would it reveal some sort of change in him, as I change with exposure to these Words?

I partially read the book with a jealous eye, wondering why I don’t write for a living like he does.  And then I read wondering what sort of Year Long Experiment I could embark upon, although I don’t think I’m up for writing the girl version of this book (bleck).  Things I took away:

• How much he was bothered by lying.  And how much he lies (one of the book group folks mentioned how they were shocked at how much he lied.  My comment:  “Of course he lies:  he’s a writer” ).  Just little lies, like telling his son that he didn’t have a certain type of food when really he just didn’t want to prepare it for his son.  How often do I say untruthes out of convience for me?  How relative is my truth to my comfort/laziness?
• He interviewed quite a few “fundamentals/zealots/legalistic/orthodox” folks or sects – going to Jerry Folwell’s church, talking to Red Letter Christians, connecting with the Amish and Jehovah’s Witnesses and people who are searching for the Red Heifer so the rebuilding of the Temple can commence.  And through all of these interviews, the author seemed genuinely interested and respectful of the folks sharing their stories.  He didn’t come in with a lot of presuppositions or looking for folks to reaffirm his position:  he simply listened, took it in, reported how things resonated with him.  And people seemed to share honestly with him.  When I talk with others, I automatically critique/take apart their words, see what I think is right and wrong, and disgard or do not hold the other parts to be worthy.  It’s so disrespectful.  Christ, the ultimate judge, drew people in, not drawing lines of where they measured up.
• The author came to the conclusion that this lifestyle could not be lived alone.  So why do I spend so much time reading Scripture by myself instead of in community?
• Although it was really inconvenient, he said this lifestyle helped him live more intentionally, thinking about all the people it takes, all the actions it requires, all the effort and effect it created.  Perhaps if I lived in ways that were “inconvenient” I would more remember how “inconvenient” it was for Christ to suffer.

Just some things to think about . . .

This past week I’ve had the opportunity to stay home:  with a sick little boy, with a growing and tired little toddler, with an in-the-midst-of-intense-work hubby, with a weary and contemplative me.  It was nice to rest.  Normally the lack of schedule and activities freaks me out:  I like the structure, the business, to keep that rhythm of life clicking, or perhaps to keep the nagging thoughts at bay.

This week, as I’ve been able to sit a bit (or at least not run around in public, seeing as how I don’t breed sitters), I was thinking about how doing a few things and doing them well is enjoyable and thought about how I/we should do that more often.  For some reason I got a sense that I’ve thought about that before . . . that I might have engaged in such a practice . . . . oh, that’s right, a few months ago we did!  The Fast!  How quickly I forget . . . and how quickly I resume to “normal life”, picking up business and unintentionality all over again.

Jason and I have been been trying to schedule various activities/gatherings/etc.  with other folks in a couple of different cases, but nothing’s really happening:  we can’t find a time when we are all free:  we’re too busy.

We got rid of our cable this summer and bought an antenna.  It’s been one of the most clarifying for me.  We lack a lot of channels we used to have, but I’m finding now that I really didn’t watch them:  I used them as white noise, distractions.  Now that I have fewer channels, I actually watch the show that’s on, I savor it, or I turn the tv off.  I don’t channel surf like I used to, trying to maximize my Viewing Experience:  I don’t have a nagging sense that I’m missing Something Better.  I simply watch, or I turn off.

This week, being somewhat quarantined with my small tykes and my weary husband, I’ve simply been with them:  baked, played Legos, read books, sang songs, danced, snuggled.  We couldn’t run around a do a lot, we couldn’t make it to meetings, we missed Sunday school and play dates:  all good stuff, but do I need to be doing it all?  Am I really enjoying it, participating fully?  Or am I using it as white noise?

It’s a little surreal to think that this summer I fasted in my community.  I wonder if others experienced the same short-term memory loss, and I wonder what we could/should do to be reminded.  Or if the opportunity arose, would I prefer to change the channel?

Once when I was tired of listening to a roommate in anxt, I said the above sentence.  Which was partially true:  my sight is fairly bad, my hearing’s not all that great, and I do rely a bit on lip/facial expression reading.  But mostly I wanted to see if she was really seeking advice or wanting to rant:  if she was seeking advice, she’d hear what I said and call me on it.  Her response:  “Oh”, and walked away, probably to find the next roommate to listen to her plight.

It’s so easy not to listen, especially to something yelling right in front of your face.  Today I found myself reading my Bible with furrowed brow and serious determination at breakfast.  Why?  When I pulled my head up, I found my youngest son was yowling at the top of his lungs, and I really wanted not to hear him.  I couldn’t fix his problem (wanting up) without creating a problem of my own (wanting to eat breakfast without wrestling utensils away from a grabby grabber).  So I stopped listening.

I’m reading the book “How to Talk So Your Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk”, which has come highly recommended, even by the circulation assistant who checked me out at the library.  “Oh, this is by my favorite child development specialist.”  Good stuff.

The first chapter talks about helping children deal with their feelings.  They recommend four options:

1. I can listen quietly and attentively.
2. I can acknowledge their feelings with a word:  “oh . . . mmm . . . I see . . .”
3. I can give that feeling a name:  “That sounds frustrating!”
4. I can give the child his wishes in fantasy:  “I wish I could make the banana ripe for you right now!”

All feelings can be accepted.  Certain actions must be limited.  “I can see how angry you are at your brother.  Tell him what you awnt with words, not fists.”

At first it sounded a little silly.  But then thinking about if the roles were reversed, it made sense.  When I’m feeling upset, no matter how irrational it may be – the feeling is there.  When it’s denied, negated, or attempted to be fixed, that can make me focus more on the feeling than the issue and also feel looked down on, invalidated, or guilty that I have such feelings. But allowing it to run its course, being given space and permission to name and experience the feeling, well, that helps me move on and respond hopefully in a helpful way.

I wonder what it would be like if adults helped adults deal with their feelings by the above steps?  I wonder what it would be like if we could sit with the intensity or the uncomfortableness it might bring about.  Abel made me uncomfortable this morning with his feelings of wants, and I ignored him:  how many times do I do that with my F/friends?  Maybe that’s a mark of true community:  being able to sit in the midst of the tension, the squishy muck, but with boundaries (no fists ).

I wonder what it would be like to somewhat pray keeping those postures in mind.  I know:  silly to think of granting God His wishes in fantasy.  But maybe . . . responding to that desire God has placed in my heart . . . and saying, “Gosh, I wish I could grant this for you, and here’s how I’d do it!” might open some leadings . . . create space for imaginative responses, and maybe one that God would say, “Yeah, that’d be awesome!  Now, go get your contacts on, for Pete’s sake!”

Last night I sat on the floor downstairs, listening to my husband click away at Twitter feeds, enjoying the lack of bustling children, watching the president elect make his first speech.  With my sugar-free apple cider in one hand and my Beth Moore study in the other, I dove into my lesson; at the conclusion, I wondered if all of these elements influenced my thoughts, or if they were divinely brought together.

The lesson was on ‘Touring the Ancient Ruins’:  “They will rebuild ancient ruins and restore the places long devestated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devestated for generations” – Isaiah 61:4.

– “Unlocking any society’s heritage is important in understanding the development of its people” – looking back with the right attitude equips us to move forward

– “Unless we purposely seek strongholds, they can remain almost unrecognizable” – we think they are part of who we are, not what binds us

Having come from a family whose decendents were racist, I am anxious about the outcome of yesterday’s election.  My biggoted family members were more passive in their racism, which is almost worse:  the snide remarks, the looks, the attitude of superiority.  This study talked about how such attitudes/sin/bondage can be passed down from generation to generations – unknowingly.  How much has that happened in our nation?  And what will be the outcome if we don’t look for the ruins in our lives that have been in our family lines for generations?

Last night Jason was surprised that I wanted to watch some (not all) of the media coverage:  “you just haven’t seemed interested.”  I’m interested, but I’m anxious.  Lately I don’t even watch thriller movies:  I prefer to sleep until the end is resolved.  Same with the election.  I’m interested; I’m vested; I’m a woman, a wife, a parent, an American – I can’t not be.  But, being a melancholy, I also anticipate all the outcomes (mostly negative), and it hurts my belly because I take in on to myself to fix.

I avoided this election for different reasons, for reasons that turned into passive racist reasons.  Many times when I look at President Elect Barack Obama, I am reminded of what I see as generational failings and sin.  I anticipate what my grandparents and other long-gone relatives would be thinking/stewing/brooding on.  And I’m embarrassed that that is part of my family line.

This chapter pointed out that Christ had a blend of positive and negative in His past, and that we don’t have to disinherit or dishonor our physical lineage to claim our spiritual lineage.  I want to see our president without casting blame on generations of folks who have oppressed or even simply withheld doing the right thing; I want to believe that God will use our president to cast light on the sin and bondage that so holds us, as individuals and as a country; I want to believe that this will be a time of healing and redemption . . . but then my tummy gets rumbly . . . “I stand against all fear and intimidation of the enemy.  He knows that issues left in shrouds of secrecy never get exposed to the healing light of God.”

My study ended with:  “Thank God that, although you cannot change the past, He can help you change what you’re doing with it!  And the changes He makes in you in the present can certainly change the future!  Hallelujah!  Our God reigns!”

**Clarification:  When addressing such stuff publically (and maybe it shouldn’t be that way) misunderstainds can easily be had.  Please know that the family members I speak of are long-since deceased and do not think I speak of my living relatives.  Thank you.

Thank you so much for your comments, affirmations, noticings, and heartful desires on living a high bar life.  Today I felt that another little piece of the puzzle was discovered, though I don’t know if I like where it’s going.

Today the family and I went to church . . . reluctantly.  I used to enjoy the Fall Back time change, somehow tricking myself into believing that I got more rest.  However, someone forgot to send that memo to Blessed Children that reside under my roof.  So we were up – early – and fairly cranky about it.  However, when thinking about being home with less sleep and more Awake and Together time, well, it gave us motivation to get out and about and to a place with childcare. 

This morning in Sunday School we practiced a lectio divina on Matthew 14:22-33 in which Jesus, after feeding the 5,000, sends his apostles across the lake and saves them from a storm during which Peter decides to test his faith to buoyancy ratio.

At first, I had a really hard time centering down:  I was with adults!  Fun adults!  While children were contentedly playing!  I wanted to chat and laugh and have fun and teacher don’t make me behave!  We listened to some music (loud music with words:  the overall experience made me more anxious than centered), read the Scripture twice, and shared a phrase that stood out to us.

For me:  “Immediately after this, Jesus insisted that his disciples get back into the boat and cross”.  My perception of God, despite all the Bible stories I’ve read and experiences I’ve had, is that I can take God or leave God:  God gave me free will, and it is my right to exercise it.  But Christ insisted that they cross.

We read the Scripture out loud again, and then shared:  “I see, I hear, I sense Jesus . . . ”

For me:  I sense Jesus being a lot more assertive and commanding than I usually perceive Him to be.  I don’t know why – perhaps it’s my post-modern sensiblities, but I really feel like I have an option.  And I’m sure that the disciples could have said ‘no’ . . . . but this Scripture just doesn’t lend the air of “Well, it’d be better for you if you got in the boat, but I don’t want to offend your free will, so take it or leave it, and I’ll stand by passively with a mournful face, but Lord knows (really) that this would be better for you, but it really is your choice . . .”

We read the Scripture again.  This time:  “Jesus is inviting me to . . .”

For me:  To.Get.In.The.Boat.

Our group discussed all sorts of noticings and thoughts.  Some noticed that Christ went alone to pray:  why did He need to be alone, and is He inviting me to do the same?  Others wondered what it would be like to be Peter – to step out on faith.  One person picked up on the phrase, “It’s a ghost!” and wondered what that meant for her life.  But for me, it was all about insisting that the disciples get in the boat.

I thought about what I would do in the disciples’ shoes/sandals.  First of all, I would want to stay where I was:  Christ had performed an amazing miracle, and I would want to stay where I was so folks could talk about how great Christ was, and I could say, “Yeah, I’m with *Him*:  kudos to me!”  As though I had anything to do with the miracle, or any way that I was worthy enough to be His disciple.

Then, as Christ was kicking me onto the boat (I imagine it as how it is sometimes dropping off my four-year old in Sunday School when he doesn’t want to go:  noodle boy who then sprints off down the hall – lovely), I would turn and say, “Um, look, *carpenter*, I am a fisherman, or have you forgotten?  This morning when we were looking at the lovely sunrise, do you remember what we saw?  That’s right:  red sky.  You remember what that means?  Yeah, I’m not getting in this stinkin’ boat until after the storm, when conditions are, you know, reasonable.  But apparently you *don’t* know, and I’d think you would, Mr. Son of God and all that.”

At 3 a.m., after battling fierce waves, after being shoved away by the one I wanted to cling to, then I would be miffed, you know, in between almost drowning.  I would be so mad!  “I *told* you we shouldn’t sail.  But noooooo:  you kicked us on the boat, and then you ditched us!  You aren’t even here!  And now we’re going to drown, and I’m exhausted and cold and MAD, and I might die!  I didn’t even want to come!  You don’t even know how hard it is out here!  I really have an earful to give to you, if I don’t lose my voice from drinking so  much salt water.”  Yes, I would make a most excellent grumbling Israelite:  fit right in with the crowd.

I think with a high bar existence, I’m waiting for the conditions to be ideal.  But perhaps (shocking, I know) my idea and God’s idea of ideal conditions might  . . . differ.  If conditions had been ideal in the disciples’ perception, they never would have seen the miraculous actions of Christ or recognized the truth in their heart:  that they had little faith.  God is all about the experiential learning, about creating situations that we pray for deliverance from when He’s maneuvered all sorts of things to put us in the middle of it.   I can hear Graham Cooke sharing his take on this Scripture:  Jesus, talking to God:  “Oh, Father, it’s lining up just great!  Can you give them waves, and make them really really big ones?” 

Sometimes I need space to discern, and sometimes I need to just get.in.the.boat.  So I wonder, what areas is Christ “extending” that invitation to me (aka swiftly kicking me in the butt)?  And who’s getting the kick with me?