I learned a few things in the great shadowy times of my life. Times of pain and angst squeeze tightly and before my eyes appear blood-stained truths. Truths I can no longer deny. But the greatest truth I grasped on these night journeys is that darkness itself is not a teacher. Darkness sheds no light.

But God.

I hear people say, and I believe I have said it myself, that they are grateful for their hard times because they learned something important. I did, but not from the negative. Negative only drains deeper into negative. My redemption comes only from something redeeming, something Good. It can never come from the negative itself.

When I nearly drown in the ocean, it wasn’t the fear or desperate struggle for life that led to illumination. Drowning is futile, it leads to death. There is no good in it. But all at once, when I found myself grasping a rock on the jetty, my eyes could see, my mind could understand. It is only God’s hand, God’s light, God’s everything which brings clarity and redemption.

There is no light, no understanding lingering in the dark, in worldliness, in self. Dives into the pits of hell for insight are not, quite literally, a viable option. I must join the ones immersed in God’s light. He has shown me how, He has put my feet on solid ground. This is where I learn—in His light, by His light.

What then, brothers? When you come together, each one has a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation. Let all things be done for building up.     1 Corinthians 14:26

 

One day in June my car turned left instead of right and I traveled down highways and over marshy bridges to the shore, to the very peninsula of New Jersey, the place of my birth. There is a nature wetlands preserve there by the sea, a restorative point of rest for migrating birds and butterflies and humans seeking respite.

I was walking back toward the lighthouse when a dreamy view drew me down off a gravelly road. A circle of swans stood quietly in the shallows and I was transfixed by the heavenly aura around them. Mist softened the scene like a Monet yet the feathery white creatures, serene and preening in one accord, reflected exquisitely on the placid water. They were like angels convening in the Holy Presence and I wished in that moment I were immersed with them .

Later I would tell a dear friend of this day and she talked of the retreat center nearby. Two months later I was in that heavenly house, gathered in worship and sublime silence for eight days. I gathered with women who love the Lord, seek Him, whisper His name and listen for His voice.

Are my close relationships ones in which I share and delve in the Divine? If not, I walk a dry, dusty road of dearth, going the way of distractions, disregarding the sweet dew of grace. God wants me bathing in His holiness in the midst of His saints.

Walk with the wise and become wise, for a companion of fools suffers harm. Proverbs 13:20

These depressions in a pond’s sandy bottom are referred to as “bowers.” Male fish build them for the purpose of attracting females for spawning. They fill their mouths with sand and blow it into piles, then skim along nudging the sides into perfectly round arenas for business. When another male swims through to admire or perhaps claim the spot as his own, the builder drives him away at once, then returns to his work.  Ordinarily the fish is just a fish, his mouth pulling in water, his gills swirling it out, but for this most extraordinary work, the fish becomes a sculptor.  

Once I came to know Jesus, my days were no longer for swimming along with the current, nosing around satisfying desires, scurrying away from harm. When these are the essence of my hours, my work is denied. But the deliberate devotion of Jesus is the continual creation of a sacred space, a holy awareness, a humbling of my will. When I enter that bower, that hushing arbor of fertile ground, my spirit is moved and lead not by environment, but magnificence. 

I get some satisfaction from those merely active days when things and experiences whiz by my eyes and pass through my hands with a lively pace but if there is no passion for God in it, the work eventually flattens into drill. God can work in all things, in shallows and depths, calm waters and rough, but my swimmy spirit demands intention. I need to create a space for Him in my moments to focus on His great work.

The king is not saved by his great army; a warrior is not delivered by his great strength.  Psalm 33:6

 

Jesus said, “I am the light of the world, Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12    

It is above me, beside me and in me, the light of Jesus. He is the voice that calls me home and the voice that shepherds me there. The more I listen and follow, the more His Holy Spirit speaks—or is it the more He speaks, the more I listen? When I worship His radiance, the brighter my life becomes—or is it the more of His radiance, the more my gratitude swells?

  When I forget to walk in His way, I get caught up in my own efforts. My eyes turn dim with my own distractions. My failures feel absolute when I act absolutely alone. Oh, but His light is warm. It is the hand of God touching this lost child. It softens my strident ego and startles my lying pride as a sudden, mellow slice of glow at the break of day.  The light of Jesus eclipses those dark hours adrift in wretchedness and obscurity. He is the gentle, mighty, restorative threshold. He is the way out of the lie, the only way to the life God desires for me. 

Having beheld His splendor, I know that nothing else will do. My sorry self may try to save itself over and over again, for it was broken in this world and is inclined to return to seek its healing here. But as I heard Father Bill, a great man in recovery circles, say: Two sickies don’t make a wellie. The things of this world can not be the source of my healing and everlasting life. It is Jesus who has saved me once and for all.  He is the way.

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.” Isaiah 30:21

 

Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect. Matthew 5:48

These are Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount, speaking to the crowds following Him early in His ministry.  Jesus taught them how to live for God and not for the world, to turn to God’s ways and God’s word.  He spoke of the law in a new way, not dismissing it in any way, but fulfilling it in every way.

Because God is perfect, I must be perfect to be held within the fold of His holiness.  Because of the fall and my sin, this is impossible for me accomplish alone. I need Jesus. He made the ultimate sacrifice to become my holiness, my perfection. His blood shed for me perfects me. Still, here on this ground, in this body, my ways are not perfect.  My access to holiness is only in Him. When I defer and acknowledge Him, He is there. He is the finisheded work I could never accomplish. His work—and His work only—is perfection. 

It is arrogant and prideful to believe I can set my own standards and work perfectly to reach them. But inviting Jesus into my hours is allowing God’s perfect will.  When I read Jesus’ words: Be perfect, I hear: Do what I have told you. Serve Me. Let Me work in you. Prepare yourself, humble yourself, be willing for Me to work perfectly in you and in all of your ways. It is through Him I am perfected.

God is my strength and power, and He makes my way perfect. 2 Samuel 22:33

I have a friend who has been in and out of my life since adolescence.  Though I have enjoyed her company at times, there comes an inevitable day when I must pull away from her to restore my peace and sanity. No matter how I help her, her desperate situations and stories have no end.

It starts out innocent enough. A lunch with mutual friends, an online chat. Soon her adult daughter needs a ride home from an appointment 10 miles away. Her new kitten needs specialty food from the pet store on a snowy, winter night.  Now the same adult daughter and her boyfriend need to use my clothes washer. Finally I am picking up my friend at midnight from the hospital and fending off her verbal persuasions and manipulations to taxi her to another for the pain medications the first one refused to give her. It was this night, as I left a muttering, ungrateful person to sulk in her living room, that I was done.

When I learn who I am in Christ and begin hearing Him more clearly, I can better discern where to put my efforts. Not every need and desire of others is my job to satisfy. Not every person is mine to friend or even help. It isn’t my aim in life to choke in the smoke of a fire I have not been called to fight. I want to do the thing God has for me to do. He calls, He equips and He guides me in His good work. And if I listen and wait for His directives, I may notice His signs of caution as well, like blaring smoke detectors to keep me from getting burned.

Therefore let him who thinks he stands take heed that he does not fall.                        1 Corinthians 10:12

It was God who came to earth in Christ. He came to gather His people, speak to them, heal them, love them and show them the way back to Him. God came to earth in Christ to gather me under His wing and lead me home.

Psalm 8:3-4 says: When I look at your heavens, the work of your finger, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them? But He is, He loves me, He calls to me. His Holy Spirit lives within me, ever reminding me that I am a child of the Most High God. 

Perhaps I think too much. I can get stuck in place sometimes with worries, concerns, baggage, and find myself unable to carry on down the path God has set before me. My mind piles into gridlock and halts all progress. As a child, when I’d resist my parents’ direction, I’d begin my complaint and plea, “Yeah, but—“ and my father would respond, “No ‘yeahbuts!’”  At this point in the conversation I knew I had to put my hesitations aside and move.

Yes, put aside all doubts, objections and  misgivings, little one, your Father is calling. Move as He directs, trust in His voice. He speaks only to draw you to your highest good. He calls only to love you. Follow Him with assurance. And no yeahbuts.

My purpose is that they may be encouraged in heart and united in love, so that they may have the full riches of complete understanding, in order that they may know the mystery of God, namely, Christ Colossians 2:2

Step Five of the Twelve Steps reads: Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. I loved working on this step, not because I love discussing my wrongs, but because my sponsor helped me concentrate on “the exact nature” of my wrongs. When I realized, for example, that at the heart of my angry behavior was fear, I could address my fear and consequently dissipate my anger. I like to apply the “exact nature” principle to desires as well.

 Recreational fishermen stand for hours with their hopes set on catching a fish, only to release it into the water and cast their line again. What are they really longing for? What is the exact nature of their desires?  Peace, meditation, prowess, escape? Each one has his reasons, but is he truly aware of them?

My life could be spent solely on cravings and yearnings and endeavoring to satisfy them with the things of this world. I could fish for things all day long with the hope that my desire will be finally quenched, that I will find the thing that stops the pursuit. Or I can admit to God and myself that I need Him over all. He knows exactly which desires He has set in my heart and longs to show me the way to them. The exact nature of my desire is God. Loving God, experiencing God, being loved by God, knowing God. There is no need to fish for anything else, Jesus is the answer.

“Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!”         Luke 11:11-13

We live in an old house, built in 1904.  When we bought it, we knew we faced an entire overhaul of each and every room. It’s been twenty years and we’re still not done, but when I look at the rooms I now love, I appreciate the hard work, unsettling demolitions and great messes we endured to create pleasing, functional spaces.  

The dingy gold wallpaper was first–scored, steamed, ripped off and flung into the trash without apology. The indoor-outdoor carpet, once intended to be forever fixed to the original lovely hardwood floors, required merciless scraping. Oh, the nasty foam backing held on, unflinchingly maintaining its grit, forcing the renovator (me) to scrape and scrape again. Then sand. Speaking of sanding, plaster cracks are continual. The windows—our vital connection to and protection from the world—become stuck, require propping and inevitable replacing.  It’s a lot, but I love my house. It’s all ours.

When Jesus bought me, He knew He faced an entire overhaul. Before Jesus moves into a person, the world is their prior owner.  And the decor can be gauche. If gone unchecked, the world will design in people something uninhabitable by God. One day I yanked open one of those stubborn windows and took a long breath of God’s pure light. I invited Him in and am currently in the process of a transformative interior redesign. It’s a lot, but He loves me and I’m all His.  

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. James 1:2-4

Sometimes it looks like things have come to an end.  Sometimes all I see is a failure, an impossibility.  What I had prayed for and worked toward appears to have been cut off.  I abandon hope and go sit on the side of discouragement.  When hope no longer looks like a sensible thing, I may choose despair instead and declare the doom. 

What is the earthly criterion for finality? Is there a universal sign? No, because I have a great God, my heart need never sink, even when I see exactly zero possibilities. Only He knows the divine work He is doing in my life. Only He sees the subtle beginnings, the tender life budding in the soft loam under a rotting stump. My thoughts and hope must rest in the mystery of His greatness.

James 1:6-8 says that if  I don’t trust God’s ways and His answers, I am lacking faith.  But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.  That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does.  When I feel swayed by this mortal world and I allow the ordinary to rattle my soul, it is God’s divine and perfect word that aligns me with my Father’s sovereign majesty. Let me remember, declare, rest and hope…For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. Romans 8:24-25

For I will give you words and wisdom that none of your adversaries will be able to resist or contradict.  Luke 21:15