“Now I Become Myself”

Now I become myself. It’s taken
Time, many years and places;
I have been dissolved and shaken,
Worn other people’s faces,
Run madly, as if Time were there,
Terribly old, crying a warning,
“Hurry, you will be dead before–”
(What? Before you reach the morning?
Or the end of the poem is clear?
Or love safe in the walled city?)
Now to stand still, to be here,
Feel my own weight and density!

“Now I Become Myself” by May Sarton, from Collected Poems 1930-1993. © W.W. Norton, 1993.

Hello, Silence. I hear you.

Hello, Silence. I hear you.

Here, at my crossroads moment, I hear the voice of silence bid me to linger.

“Voice of silence.” That’s how Elijah described his crossroads moment in the Negev wilderness of Israel (cf. 1 Kings 19:12).

Yeah, I know. Your version probably says something like, “the sound of a low whisper” (ESV), “a gentle whisper” (NIV), “a still small voice” (NKJV), or somthing like that.

The literal Hebrew expression reads, “a voice of small silence” or “a voice of thin stillness.” It’s meant to be paradoxical, a seemingly self-contradictory, absurd description. In other words, Elijah perceived God’s presence supernaturally.

Elijah’s crossroads moment occurred after a significant personal failure.

For many years he had steadfastly opposed the despotic, idol-worshiping rule of Ahab and Jezebel, boldly speaking truth to power. His long campaign then climaxed with a triumphant showdown with the prophets of Baal on Mt. Carmel (1 Kings 18:20–46).

After this dramatic victory,  the prophet’s confidence should have reached an all-time high. His years of ministry had been validated by God’s omnipotence and he stood on the threshold of victory. Yet when Jezebel threatened to kill him, his courage wilted and he ran.

As his personal failure sank in, he prayed, “It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers” (1 Kings 19:4).

After God gave His servant food to replenish his body and sleep to restore his mind, He called Elijah to enter a season of solitude. Forty days of quiet reflection in a very special place (1 Kings 19:5–8).

When the time was right, in the midst of his crossroads moment, Elijah perceived God’s silent voice and received the affirmation and direction he needed so desperately.

My natural response to moments like this is not to remain where I am. Ordinarily, I would take action, get busy doing something positive, seek constructive change.

But this time is different. There’s nowhere to go. Nothing different I should be doing. My triumphs and failures have led me to an empty cave, where life has left me famished, and I hunger to hear from God.

While I am still, I am not idle. I have work accomplish–worthy work. I have people who need me to be present when I am with them. Waiting to hear from God isn’t a time for passivity.

There are things we can do to prepare for perceiving God’s silent voice. And I am doing them.

Entering My Circle of Trust

Entering My Circle of Trust

Everyone needs a circle of trust.

Sadly, the movie, Meet the Fockers, has all but ruined the phrase in popular culture. Even so, The Center for Courage & Renewal, owns the phrase (literally trademarked) and keeps the true meaning alive and well.

This video, featuring Parker J. Palmer, explains how a circle of trust is especially important when you’re standing at a crossroads moment.

I must confess that, as of this writing, Parker’s every word resonates deeply with me.

 

My Castaway Crossroads

My Castaway Crossroads

My journey has led to a crossroads.

A true crossroads moment is rare. It comes along once–maybe twice–in a lifetime. It’s more than a mere intersection, where one must decide which direction to take toward a particular destination. A crossroads moment, instead, begins with the realization that you have no particular place to go.

A crossroads moment represents the end of a journey, along with the mourning that usually accompanies loss. And it represents the potential start of a new journey, with all its frightening uncertainty and tentative hope.

It has the vague sense of being lost, except there’s nowhere to be . . . other than here.

Staying put is the only wise choice.

A crossroads moment calls for a deep reevaluation of self. My past has contributed to who I am, but God now wants to fashion someone new out of that old me. To join my re-Creator at this crossroads, I have spent the past couple of months in a detailed examination myself in the harsh, unforgiving light of truth.

I have reviewed my Myers-Briggs, my StrengthsFinder, and my Enneagram results. (Please don’t suggest another assessment; I have moved on from this phase.) I participated in the painful affirmation of a 360 Feedback Review and engaged the honest insight of trusted colleagues by asking the questions, “How have you experienced me as a co-worker?” and “What advice would you have for me to improve as a leader?”

I think I have a reasonably objective view of myself, including admirable and shadow qualities. I struggle to make sense of my mixed bag of abilities, education, and experience, which qualify me for a vast array of vocations . . . and, therefore, none in particular. At least none in plain view.

So, at this crossroads, feeling more than a little paralyzed by too many options, I have decided to embrace the moment. I will savor this unsettling freedom and allow God to do His work within me. And I will do the hardest thing of all: wait.

If you think of me, pray that the Holy Spirit will bring clarity.

If you find yourself at your own crossroads moment, I hope these words offer encouragement and insight. I pray you find your path.

Where Anti-Christian Attitudes Thrive

In my research for a potential book, I’m looking at statistics on Christians, especially those identified by the term “evangelical.” I’m happy to say the news is generally good. That is, if you ignore certain Christian “research” groups that derive financial benefit from shocking believers with gloomy statistics. Two sources with credible data and competent analysis include:

Robert D. Putnam and David E. Campbell, American Grace: How Religion Divides and Unites Us (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2012).

Bradley R.E. Wright, Christians Are Hate-Filled Hypocrites . . . and Other Lies You’ve Been Told (Minneapolis, MN: BethanyHouse, 2010).

In Wright’s work, I ran across this passage near the end of the book. This should be of great interest if you have a loved one in college, especially if it’s a generally secular school (with or without former religious ties). Here it is without further comment from me. His information is sobering enough on its own.

In 2007, the Institute for Jewish and Community Research surveyed the religious beliefs of over twelve hundred faculty members at various American colleges and universities. As I understand it, this study was looking for anti-Semitism among faculty members, but they instead found something surprising: a strong intolerance toward Evangelical Christians.

christians-are-hate-filled-hypocrites-professors-regard-for-religious-groups

One of the questions asked faculty members if they had negative feelings toward various religious groups. As shown in Figure 8.10, over half-53%-of the faculty members reported having negative feelings toward Evangelical Christians, and this was far more than toward any other group. Twenty-two percent of faculty members had negative feelings toward Muslims, 18% toward atheists, 13% toward Catholics, 9% toward non-Evangelical Christians, 4% toward Buddhists, and 3% toward Jews. The study’s authors concluded that “if not outright prejudice, faculty sentiment about the largest religious group in the American public borders dangerously close.”[1]

[1] Bradley R.E. Wright, Christians Are Hate-Filled Hypocrites . . . and Other Lies You’ve Been Told (Minneapolis, MN: BethanyHouse, 2010), 205–206.

 

 

Do the Math

33 - Empty Pockets (iStock_000005376392XSmall)Has the Lord called you to accomplish something beyond your ability? Doesn’t seem quite fair, does it? Imagine how the disciples felt as a multitude grumbled for food and Jesus said, without a hint of sarcasm or humor, “You feed them.”

Jesus had been trying to escape the demands of ministry—if only for a short time—so He might gather strength from His Father and prepare Himself for the busy Passover celebration. But the crowds followed, so Jesus gave of Himself again. After teaching and perhaps healing for much of the day, the disciples suggested He send the people away before they grew hungry. Instead, the Master tasked His small band of apprentices to feed the followers. Phillip’s eyes scanned the sea of faces and quickly tallied the estimated food bill for five thousand men and their families. His figure merely confirmed the obvious. Feeding that many mouths would require a sum far greater than all twelve men could earn in a year. And who would have that much food to sell out there in the wilderness, anyway? Clearly, the Lord could not have been serious. Why would He ask the disciples for so much, knowing they had so little? Continue reading “Do the Math”