What do ginger, tape, and prayer have in common?

Me!  How exciting. . .

It has been a glorious past two days.  I don’t know if I’ve been able to say that about two weekday work days in a row in years.  No, the job has not gotten any easier, but internally, I have found breakthrough.

All of this gloriousness started on Saturday when I went to have dinner with a dear friend and her family (I teach her daughter).  We were talking about my life and about how weary I always am.  Seriously, at the end of every day, I literally feel like I could crawl into a hole and sleep for twenty years.  I can’t remember a day that I did not feel that way since I’ve been teaching.  After I related this my friend, she started talking, and I just started weeping.  It was one of those weepings where you feel like things are being cast off of you through the tears.  I remember in college feeling that exact way. 

The summer before my Junior year, I went on a mission trip to Turkey.  In preparation for the trip, the team met together every week to pray and intercede both for the success of our trip and also Turkish people.  During one of the prayer meetings, we went around telling how we were doing, and once it got to me, I just started weeping.  One of the team leaders had been walking in the prophetic for quite a few years, so she just started praying for me.  I don’t remember exactly what she was praying, but I remember feeling the exact same way I did on Saturday night.  I was oppressed, and the oppression lifted.

The past two days, I feel like I’ve been waking from a dream.  The feeling of actually having energy to run errands after school yesterday was so foreign to me, I was quite befuddled.  I just sat in the car marvelling at how energetic I felt.  When it came time for bed, I actually did not feel like I was about to drop dead before I hit the bed.  I was AWAKE!  And not the kind of awake feeling I’ve had for so long that is the product of having so much on my mind that I can’t sleep.  This awake-ness was a result of finally feeling rested.  It felt abnormal.

Also on Saturday, my friend told me about a way to detox your body by using ginger in either a foot bath or regular bath.  Well, being the all-or-nothing person that I am, I decided to take a regular bath with ginger on Sunday night.  OH MY GOSH!  Was it detoxifying!  Either it was super effective, or I was a walking body full of toxins.  It was probably the latter.  She said that I would feel tired after taking it, but really, I felt worn out all of Monday.  AND, to make matters more humorously complicated, when my body was detoxing, I was letting out all sorts of unwanted gas – coming out both ends.  Yes, I said it.  But for real, yesterday, after all the gross stuff finished its business, I felt AWESOME!  I think mentally and emotionally, it had to do with the prayer I got on Saturday.  But physically, it totally had to be the fact that I got so much “crap” out of my system from the ginger!  Who knew?  Not me.

And to top it all off, I had a follow up appointment with my foot doctor yesterday because of my surgery I had in December.  I told him that as I was working out last week, I think I pulled some tendons in the top of my other foot as it was trying to overcompensate for my retarded surgicalled (yes, I made that up) foot.  To help me, he put all sorts of tape on my foot to support it, and the most amazing thing happened. . .

My feet finally feel normal!  Incredible what taping feet can do!  My feet finally feel like they did almost 2 years ago before all this mess started with my feet.

So, I’m seriously just floating on a sea of grace right now.  I feel amazing and I don’t ever want to feel oppressed again.  It really, really, really stinks.

End scene.

Locked Garden

                Monday night rekindled my hope for community in Dallas.  Since February of 2008, I’ve lived in Dallas and have had the hardest time finding friends.  I guess “hardest time” is relative, since I’m comparing it to two other places I’ve lived that were places set up for hanging out and going deep with others.  The first was my church in Waco which, first of all, had community as a core value and pastors that were superior examples that most everyone followed, and second Waco was a college town and so had an abnormal amount of single people in one place looking for people to hang out with after spending hours in classes or studying.  The second place was in Kansas City – this place was also geared towards many single people having time to hang out, though this was more because of everyone having a pretty open schedule to hang out because of the nature of the job.

                In summation, I’ve spent seven out of the ten years I’ve lived away from my parents in places that have a lot of single people with the time and vision for building a community.  People here have a different story.  There is still community, but it takes A LOT longer for the relationships within that community to go deep with each other.  Part of it is lack of vision placed within them for what true community is, part is that most are married and/or have jobs with strict schedules.   I’ve been in two different home groups for four months and am just now going deep with the women I’ve been getting to know.  That’s unusual for me.  Four months is a long time in my experience for people to go deep.  But we finally did!  And my heart is happy.

                It began with vulnerability.  In the past, I’ve learned that if someone will be honest enough to share from the depths, in the right setting it will create feelings of security and openness for others to be vulnerable.  Over dinner, I just shared some fears and insecurities I’ve had in the past in reference to events that happened that day, and suddenly all the other girls felt that it was ok to be honest not only with the rest of us, but also with themselves.  Because I put my inner insecurities on the line, one girl was even able to say, “I’ve never really admitted this to anyone” when telling us about herself, which tells me it has been hidden in her heart but never given an outlet.

                It says somewhere in the Bible that confession heals (something to that effect).  I’ve heard statistics that say Catholics are the least likely religion to struggle with depression.  Why?  Because they go to confession.  They have someone to whom they can spill their deep secrets who will not stand in judgment but only listen.  Protestants of all denominations do not have that.  In our religiousness, especially in the south, we feel like we’re expected to act a certain way to be considered a good Christian.  Load of crap!  There is no way to BE a good Christian because that assumes that our own beings are at the center of it all.  We are not the point.  It’s the life of Jesus within us.  If we stall out from the fact that we’re not acting in the correct way because we call ourselves Christians, we have lost sight of the fact of why we have to confess our weakness – it’s so that Jesus can make His life known in us, not so we can stand and say how awesome we are in being morally sound.  We must confess!  We must create communities where people feel ok being open about the fact that they are completely broken and don’t know how to find freedom.

It is in conversations like those held in our group of four on Monday that hold the true expression of community and unity of the Church.  It is conversations like those that create an inner joy in me beyond that found in a good meal or accomplishment well met.  The simplicity of joy found in that conversation was strong enough to cause exquisite glee to follow me even into the next day.  It was as if four broken down walled-up gardens sat longing to be broken out and found beautiful when out of the mist the sun rose piercing them with rays of hope infused with restoration.  Let the Son rise!

Authentic Joy

When I was in Santa Fe, there was this beautiful cathedral called the St. Francis Cathedral Basilica. Maybe if I can learn how to be techno savvy, I can post some pics for you to peruse. I found a book called, St. Francis and the Cross, and I found my favorite quote about joy. When I was in my internship, I heard Allen Hood quote this in his sermon, and I’ve forever loved it since. It’s long, so sit back and relax. . .

St. Francis called to Brother Leo, who was walking a bit ahead of him, and
he said, ‘Brother Leo, even if the Friars Minor in every country give a great example of holiness and integrity and good edification, nevertheless write down and note carefully that perfect joy is not in that.’

And when he had walked on a bit, St. Francis called him again, saying, ‘Brother Leo, even if a Friar Minor gives sight to the blind, heals the paralyzed, drives out devils,
gives hearing back to the deaf, makes the lame walk, and restores speech to the
dumb, and what is still more, brings life a man who has been dead four days,
write that perfect joy is not in that.’

[. . .] And going on a bit father, St. Francis called again strongly: ‘Brother Leo, even if
a Friar Minor could preach so well that he should convert all infidels to the
faith of Christ, write down that perfect joy is not there.’

Now when he had been talking this way for a distance of two miles, Brother Leo in great amazement asked him, ‘Father, I beg you in God’s name to tell me where perfect joy is.’

And St. Francis replied, ‘When we come to St. Mary of the Angels, soaked by the rain and frozen by the cold, all soiled with mud and suffering from hunger, and we ring at the gate of the Place and the brother porter comes and says angrily, “Who are
you?” And we say, “We are two of your brothers.” And he contradicts us, saying, “You are not telling the truth. Rather you are two rascals who go around deceiving people and stealing what they give to the poor. Go away!” And he does not open for us, but makes us stand outside in the snow and rain, cold and hungry, until night falls – then if we endure all those insults and cruel rebuffs patiently, without being troubled and without complaining, and if we reflect humbly and charitably that the porter really knows us and that God makes him speak against us, oh, Brother Leo, write that perfect joy is there!’

. . . if we endure all those evils and insults and blows with joy and patience, reflecting that we must accept and bear the sufferings of the blessed Christ patiently for love of Him, oh, Brother Leo, write: that is perfect joy!’”

In the midst of our hedonistic, narcissistic culture I think we’ve distorted our idea of true joy, just as we’ve tainted ultimate love to be equivalent to sex. I want the kind of joy that St. Francis expounds upon. I want to glory in the sufferings that come my way, that I might be conformed into the image of my Beloved. I know that is my lot – it’s what my name means, “Christ-bearer”.

Jesus, conform me into your image that I might have the manifest Emmanuel living deep within me. I want true reality, not the obdurate subterfuge of society that refuses to look to You to be set free from their pain enough to be genuine. Save us, Jesus, from ourselves.

Kristine