Holy Saturday is the day between these two verses—the day between what we now call Good Friday and Easter Sunday. On this day Jesus’ followers were grief stricken. Their Lord, whom they believed to be the Messiah, had been killed—and all their hopes and dreams died with him. In this time of “in between,” darkness reigned. They couldn’t fathom what was coming—resurrection—even though Jesus had told them to expect it. Grief is like that, rendering us helpless against the blinding waves of despair.
 
Because it was the Sabbath, Jesus’ followers rested. But I imagine there was no rest for their souls on that Sabbath. Surely they were overcome with fear and uncertainty, wondering what they would do now.

We have our own days and seasons of “in between”—times when our hopes and dreams seem to be dead and buried in a sealed tomb. Times when sadness and disappointment crowd out joy and celebration. Times when doubt and confusion yield uncertainty, making us unsure of what to do.
 
What are we to do when we find ourselves stuck “in between”? Here are three suggestions for these times of grief, struggle, or waiting.
 
1. Give yourself permission to feel however you feel.
 
The “in between” is not a time to power through with positive thinking or spiritual platitudes. Though we may be able to distract ourselves from our feelings for a time, the only healthy way to handle emotions is to move through them—to allow our feelings to move through us. There are no “bad” feelings. In fact, every feeling is a gift, because it has something important to tell us about what’s happening inside us. Judging our emotions or being critical of how we are feeling only makes matters worse, but welcoming our emotions with grace lessens their heaviness and enables us to listen with compassion. Then, as we talk about our feelings with God and with safe people in our lives, we open ourselves to receive God’s comfort and healing.
 
On a two-day personal retreat recently, I became aware during the prolonged hours of silence that a part of me was judging myself for holding certain feelings. Once I had that awareness and began to welcome those feelings, I felt that critical part of myself softening. The remainder of the retreat I was able to rest fully in the all-encompassing, unconditional love of God, which is exactly what I needed.
 
2. Give yourself permission to grieve however you need to grieve.
 
No two people are alike, and this includes the way that we grieve and process loss—whatever that loss might be. Whether it is a death, illness, move, disappointment, or other loss, we all go through similar stages in our grieving. However, the timing, expression, and duration of those stages differ from person to person. There’s not a one-size-fits-all when it comes to grief. What is universal is the need to give ourselves time and space to grieve—whatever that might look like for each of us. Rather than conforming to societal expectations regarding when, where, how, and how long we grieve, we can give ourselves the freedom to grieve in the times and ways that are helpful and meaningful to us.
 
My mother passed in October 2002, and my children were ages five and eight. In many ways caring for them helped me to process my grief, enabling me to honor the memory of Mom as I poured my love into my own daughters. I also discovered that the lack of her presence at different stages and milestones of their lives made it necessary for my grief to be an ongoing process, one in which I allowed myself to acknowledge and express my loss and sadness through the years.
 
When my dad passed in December 2019 and the pandemic began just a few months later, I learned that my grief would be more complicated than I had experienced previously because of the collective and personal loss that resulted from lockdowns and isolation. My grief was further compounded when I lost my job in 2021. A combination of seeing a counselor, talking regularly with my spiritual director, journaling, and doing a lot of walking and hiking helped me process my grief in ways that were meaingful to me. Though I have grieved well, I continue to allow layers of grief to surface as needed, offering myself generous doses of self-compassion whenever they do and remaining open to God's ongoing healing work within me.
 
3. Give yourself permission to do the necessary next thing.
 
Recently I ran into a friend who has been going through a challenging time ripe with loss and grief. She said that she has been holding onto these words from scripture: “While it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb” (John 20:1 NLT). In the darkness that cloaked both the garden and her heart, Mary went to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ dead body. Perhaps she knew the tomb had been sealed, or perhaps she didn't. All she knew was that she had to participate in the burial custom of anointing the body of her Lord. She needed to participate in that rite. It was the next necessary thing to do—or as author Emily P. Freeman says, “the next right thing.” There was nothing “magical” about anointing Jesus’ body. It wouldn’t end Mary's grief. But it was the thing she felt compelled to do. And it was as she set out to do this next necessary thing that she encountered the living Christ!
 
What is the next necessary thing for you? What is it for me? This is an especially helpful question to ask ourselves when we’re in a season of “in between.” When we’re sad and disappointed and don’t know what to do, the next necessary thing, or next right thing, is always a good choice.

Just as the Risen Jesus met Mary in the garden, where she had intended to fulfill a burial custom, so he meets us in the ordinary tasks of our everyday lives—as we walk the dog, pick up the kids or grandkids from school, go about our work, visit a friend, volunteer, tend a garden, or a million other things. If we’re open to the possibility, these experiences can become holy moments when we encounter the living God.

At first Mary didn’t recognize Jesus, thinking he was the gardener. In the same way, Jesus may make himself known to us through ordinary people and experiences as we do the next necessary thing. May we have eyes to see him. For it is as we become aware of Jesus in the ordinary and everyday moments of our lives that the light dispels the darkness and the hope of resurrection—renewed life—takes hold of our hearts once again.

There are many excellent books on creating a rhythm or rule of life (see Recommended Resources below), so it is not my intention to provide an exhaustive discussion here. Instead, here are a few simple guidelines to help you get started.
 
1. Prime the pump by prayerfully considering a few “big picture” questions.
 
Take some time to reflect and pray with these questions—and feel free to add others. Though you may not have an answer for each question (and that’s okay!), simply considering them will help to prepare you for the process of creating a rule of life. You might find it helpful to write your thoughts in a journal or notebook or record your responses in a voice memo on your phone or computer. Again, the questions are intended simply to orient you toward the purpose or focus of a rhythm of life.

• Who has God created me to be? How would I describe my authentic self?
• What are some of my deep longings and core values?
• What am I passionate about?
• What is my calling or mission in life (what am I drawn to be and do)?
• What are God’s invitations to me in this season of my life
  

2. Determine the framework for your rhythm of life.
 
There are many formats you can use when creating a rhythm or rule of life. As you prepare to identify the practices and habits you find most life-giving and supportive of who you are called to be in this world, consider what categories make the most sense or have the most appeal for you. Below are several examples.

There are many other possibilities as well. Once you choose a format, begin to write the most life-giving practices and habits related to each category. The idea is not to fill every box or create a to-do list—we have enough of those! The idea is to focus on the essential, life-giving rhythms that are right for you in this season. Perhaps it's time to renew some practices that have fallen by the wayside or try some new practices—especially new spiritual practices that might breathe life into your relationship with God.
 
If desired, you can include additional elements in your rhythm of life—such as key Scriptures and songs, your roles and values, a personal mission statement, and even representative photos or artwork. If that’s your jam, go for it and get creative! If that sounds oppressive, just keep it straightforward and simple. Either way, give yourself permission to do it your way and make it your own.

3. Eliminate the non-essentials.
 
Now comes the hard part. Determine which practices are most important—those you consider vital. My spiritual director encourages eliminating at least half of what you’ve recorded! The idea is to streamline your rhythm or rule so that it is doable, something you’re able to commit to with consistency. It can be helpful to share your abbreviated version with someone you trust and respect—a spouse, spiritual director, or friend—and invite feedback and accountability. Is this a practical plan for a rhythm of habits, rather than a list of goals or wishes? Are you missing anything?
 
4. Prayerfully live into your rhythm and revise as needed.
 
This may be the most important part of the process. Creating a rhythm of life can—and should—take time and involve careful reflection, prayer, and even experimentation. I spent an entire year creating and revising a new rhythm of life when transitioning from a career in publishing to full-time spiritual direction, and during that time I “tried on” different practices to discover what my soul truly needed and desired in this new season. Once you have your list of essential practices or habits on paper, you’re then able to prayerfully live into them, listening to the Spirit and making revisions as you feel led. It can be helpful to set a reminder on your phone or calendar so you can be intentional in reflecting on your rhythm of life, whether monthly, quarterly, or (at the very least) annually.
 
Throughout the process, let your attitude toward yourself be one of grace. Above all, remember that a rhythm of life is not meant to be a checklist demanding rigidity or performance but a loving invitation and gentle guide toward the unforced rhythms of grace that God desires for you!

Advent is a time of waiting, a time of anticipation and expectancy as we prepare to celebrate the coming of Christ into our world. Emmanuel—God with us. As a child, I loved the tradition of lighting an Advent wreath, with four candles representing the four Sundays of Advent and the themes of hope, peace, joy, and love. Though I didn’t understand the significance of the candles then, the simple practice of lighting one each week helped to mark the time in what seemed like an unbearably long season of waiting.
 
That’s often how waiting feels to us, isn’t it? Unbearable and long. I wonder if that’s how Mary felt about her own season of waiting after learning she would give birth to God’s Son. What was it like to be expecting—quite literally—the hope of the world?
 
God invited Mary, an ordinary adolescent girl with hopes and dreams, fears and weaknesses, to participate in God’s plan—and she said yes. But contrary to romanticized notions about Mary, her yes was anything but simple or easy. In fact, her story acknowledges the challenges and difficulties that are part and parcel of saying yes to God and then waiting for God’s plan to unfold. And within her story we find four principles or “steps” for saying yes to God’s invitations.
 
1. Acknowledge your fear.
 
In Luke 1:26-38, we find Mary’s dramatic encounter with an angel, and we’re told right away that she was greatly troubled. Some translations say that she was confused. I would have been too! No doubt it was startling to see an angel face to face. But perhaps she also was confused by the angel’s greeting: “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you” (Luke 1:28 NIV). Sit with those words for a moment.
 
The Greek word for “favored” means “endowed with grace; to receive special honor; to be graciously accepted.” It’s likely that Mary felt that the words did not fit her, that she was not worthy, that the angel had the wrong girl. We can relate, can’t we? How often do we doubt our worthiness or ability when God calls us to something, leading to doubt and confusion and perhaps even fear. We know that Mary was afraid because the angel says, “Do not be afraid” (v. 29). Then the angel repeats, “You have found favor with God” (v. 30). The Greek word for favor in this verse is Charito, which means “free or unmerited gift.” And that's good news. We don’t have to earn God’s favor to be chosen by God. God loves us and calls us just as we are.
 
Notice that the angel didn't chastise Mary for her fear but reassured her, going on to describe God’s calling or invitation—to give birth to God’s Son. And I love this part—Mary’s immediate response was not to say yes but to question the angel. Again, I can relate! The angel gave a few sketchy details about how it would happen (I’m not sure I would have been satisfied with that limited explanation!) and then told her that her older relative Elizabeth, who was too old to bear a child, had conceived and was in her sixth month. It’s then, after Mary heard of Elizabeth’s miraculous pregnancy, that she said yes: “May your word to me be fulfilled” (v. 38).
 
2 Takeaways for Us:

1. When God calls us to something, it’s normal to experience uncertainty and fear. Even when we know what God is calling us to is good, it’s normal to have concerns and fears. Yet so often we beat ourselves up for feeling afraid. If you’re sensing an invitation of God but you have concerns or fears, welcome to the human race. Welcome to the ranks of Mary. You’re in good company.
2. Before we can say yes, it’s necessary to acknowledge and face our fear. Facing our fear doesn’t mean conquering it. It simply means naming it. There are many reasons we hesitate to name our fears, but ignoring them is never a healthy or helpful response. Until fear is named, it remains an obstacle that will trip us up every time. But naming our fear yields authenticity and humility, which then opens us to a way forward through connection and community with God and others. This leads us to the second principle or step.

 
2. Seek encouragement and support.
 
In Luke 1:39-45, we see that Mary didn’t waste any time making her way to Elizabeth. After saying yes to God, she needed encouragement and support. That wasn’t a weakness on Mary’s part. She knew her calling was not something she could complete on her own. So, she sought someone she knew would understand, someone who could offer her both empathy and encouragement. And we see that Mary was encouraged through the words of Elizabeth and the witness of the baby in Elizabeth’s womb.
 
2 Takeaways for Us:

1. God created us for community and wants us to seek encouragement and support from others.
2. We need each other on this journey of saying yes to God’s invitations. So, who are the people you turn to for encouragement and support? Do you have at least one “Elizabeth,” someone you can go to when you need spiritual support and guidance, especially when you are struggling or hesitating to live into your “yes” to God? Safe and trustworthy companions are essential on the spiritual journey. When we know we're not alone, our natural response is gratitude, which leads us to the third principle or step.

 
 
3. Practice praise.
 
In Luke 1:46-55 we find Mary’s song of praise, called the Magnificat, which took place while Mary was with Elizabeth. It’s significant to note that Mary did not immediately praise God after her encounter with the angel. It wasn't until after she had received confirmation and encouragement from Elizabeth that she offered this praise. She began her song by proclaiming, “My soul glorifies the Lord…” (Luke 1:46 NLT). Some translations use the word “magnify,” which I think helps us to wrap our minds around how we glorify God. To glorify God is to magnify God and what God is doing in our lives—to make much of God. Yet so often we magnify our circumstances or our feelings or the behaviors of others. A good question to ask ourselves is What have I been magnifying lately? In other words, Where have I been fixing my gaze?
 
2 Takeaways for Us

1. Praise is both a response to recognizing God’s activity in our lives and a way we are empowered to courageously join God in what God is doing.
2. Praise helps us to wait on God expectantly with hope as we rehearse the character of God. It helps us to “walk out” our yes to God. Praise is like filling our gas tanks with hope and confident expectancy. And this leads us to the fourth and final principle or step.

 
4. Expect God to come through.
 
In Luke 2:1-19 we find the familiar story of Jesus’ birth, which shows us the faithfulness of God. Mary did not have an easy journey. It was roughly a ninety-mile trip to Bethlehem, and she was quickly approaching her due date. Though most nativity stories indicate Mary  was riding on a donkey, it’s likely that she and Joseph had to walk most of the way. Imagine what it was like walking the unpaved terrain with its steep slopes and tremendous changes in elevation. Given Mary’s condition, it’s likely they covered only ten miles a day, so this would have been a nine-day trip. They may have encountered wild animals along the way—perhaps even thieves.
 
When they reached Bethlehem, the city was overcrowded with visitors, and there wasn’t room for them to find comfortable accommodations. Before they knew it, Mary was in labor. Though nativity scenes often depict Jesus’ birth in a barn or stable, it’s more likely that it was the lower level of a house where livestock would have been kept and a stone manger would be found. Not the most suitable environment for giving birth! After the baby arrived, so did some unexpected visitors—a group of shepherds from nearby fields. No doubt Mary and Joseph were surprised. Their journey had been full of challenges and obstacles—as well as provision and wonder. Lowly shepherds came to worship and testified of a choir of angels singing praise, confirming yet again God’s message to Mary.
 
2 Takeaways for Us

1. When we say yes to God, we can expect God to come through for us despite the challenges and setbacks we face.
   
2. God often strengthens, helps, and provides for us in unexpected ways.

 
 
The spiritual journey is a continual process of saying yes to God and then "expecting"—anticipating with hope—what God will do in and through us. God is always extending invitations. Jesus said, “Come, follow me.” When we say yes and follow him, there are continual invitations to come closer and move deeper in our life with God.

• Invitations to healing.
• Invitations to become more of who God created us to be.
• Invitations to step into our God-given callings.
• Invitations to join Jesus in his work in the world.
• Invitations to enjoy God.
• Invitations to slow down and notice.
• Invitations to listen.
• Invitations to surrender.
• And countless others.

 
So, what is God inviting you to say yes to in this season? And how might you begin to say yes? As you ponder these questions this Advent, I encourage you to acknowledge your fear, seek encouragement and support, practice praise, and expect God to come through. And if you’ve said yes to an invitation of God yet find yourself in what seems like an unbearably long season of waiting, remember Mary and take heart. As was true of Mary, God is both with you and within you. May the light and hope of Christ be born anew in you this Christmas!

I’ve been savoring lately. It seems appropriate to the season. What am I savoring? God’s love!
 
To savor God’s love, we must experience it. My personal passion and the foundational message of my ministry has to do with experiencing the love of God, because I believe this is the key to the spiritual journey—the doorway to a deeper connection with God and to spiritual growth, healing, and transformation. We spend a lot of time thinking and talking about God and God’s love and far less time experiencing it.

Brain science supports the idea that it is experience, not information, that transforms us. Truth must move from factual knowledge to experiential knowledge, which requires the integration of both sides of the brain—the left side, which houses logic and reason, and the right side, which houses experience, emotion, sensations, and belief. (Though talking about the "left" and "right" side of the brain is more of an analogy, it's a helpful one.) We might say that information or knowledge about God is the foundation of our faith, but experience is what builds upon that foundation to create a safe, secure, and enjoyable relationship with God. We stand upon the foundation, but we dwell in the everyday experiences of life. Experience, then, is how we get to know God personally and intimately and come to feel loved by God.
 
I love a little brain science. Recently I learned that it takes the amygdala 20 seconds to register a positive experience but only a fourth of a second to register a negative one. No wonder we get stuck in negative thought patterns, because our human tendency is to focus on what’s wrong in a situation while overlooking or downplaying what’s right or good. We’re more accustomed to "sitting in" negative moments than we are to savoring positive ones.
 
The good news is that with awareness of this tendency, we can choose to be more intentional about savoring God’s gifts of love, remembering that God is love (1 John 4:16) and the giver of every good gift (James 1:17). As we do this, we are experiencing God’s love—not a generic love but a very personal love expressed in the details of our everyday lives.
 
How do we savor God’s love? It’s really very simple. First, we become aware of an experience of love—a loving moment or gift of love—and then we take it in with all our senses for at least 20 seconds (or longer). This allows our brain to register and integrate it as part of our lived experience—which drives what we truly believe and live from, not what we say we believe. An experience of love might be a moment when we feel loved; experience joy, delight, or wonder; feel seen and known; sense God’s presence; or feel gratitude for something we’re experiencing or observing in the present moment. It might be as simple as delighting in a warm beverage or favorite food, appreciating something beautiful in nature, receiving a warm hug or encouraging text, cuddling your pet, enjoying a moment with friends or family, meditating on a scripture verse that touches your heart, being moved by a song or piece of art, or a million other ordinary things. The idea is to experience and savor these moments as personal love gifts from God—which they are.
 
Here’s the cool part: We can savor the moment not only as it’s happening but any time afterward by remembering and rehearsing it, which enables us to experience it all over again. Each time we rehearse God’s love gifts in this way, we’re creating new neural pathways in our brain, helping us to break free from negative thought patterns and false messages we’ve believed about God and ourselves. The more we experience God’s love and feel loved by God, the more we’re able to “live loved”—to love ourselves and others as we have been loved by God.

That’s why I love the Daily Examen, which is a simple practice of reviewing our day and rehearsing the loving moments, letting them live again in us. (We also can allow the not-so-loving moments to surface, talking honestly with God about them. This helps us process unpleasant moments and experience God’s love as we feel seen, known, and loved just as we are.) The Examen is one of the spiritual practices I recommend most often because it’s a simple and effective way to open our eyes to the many ways God is actively loving us in the details of our lives. This, in turn, fuels our gratitude and our own loving responses—to God and others.
 
This month I’ve been doing a public “November Examen,” savoring and sharing one love gift each day. Even though it’s already the middle of the month, I encourage you to join me. You might even want to make this a practice you do through the end of the year, helping you keep your focus on the meaning of the season as you savor God’s love in every good gift. You just might find it so beneficial that you decide to make it an ongoing practice. I hope you will, because my heart’s desire for you is that you would come to experience God’s love more and more.
 
In the words of the apostle Paul, this is my prayer for you: “May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God” (Ephesians 3:19 NLT).

As I’ve sat with people over the last year, many have described a sense of being stuck emotionally. Because I’m human, I’m no stranger to that experience. What I’m learning is not to judge the stuck-ness but to accept it with self-compassion and patience, trusting that God is working in it and will help me through it if I simply allow myself to feel what I feel.
 
One morning I was on my way home from my chiropractor’s office, and I got turned around while taking the back way through a beautiful residential area. As I stopped at an intersection, I quickly activated my trusty navigator—the Waze app—to find the best route home. After turning right as directed, I drove a short distance before passing the beautiful, historic white church where my father served as pastor in his retirement years. It’s common for retired pastors in the Methodist tradition to be invited to serve a small local church in need of a shepherd, and I believe he was equally blessed by their love and care in those years after losing my mom. It was the last church where I heard him preach and knelt to receive Holy Communion by his hands, just as I had done countless times throughout my life.
 
Suddenly my eyes were filled with tears, and in that moment, it occurred to me that I’d had a similar tearful experience the previous week while driving by the long-term care facility where Dad passed away in December 2019—just a few months before the pandemic rocked our world. I knew this was evidence that physical places were evoking a grief response—something that hasn't always been the case since Dad's passing. Out of the blue I had an inner nudge, “Drive to the cemetery where Dad and Mom are buried.”
 
Instantly I knew this was a prompting of the Holy Spirit because I’m not one who visits gravesites regularly. In fact, other than a few funerals, I’ve visited the cemetery where Mom and Dad are buried only a handful of times in the last twenty years since Mom’s passing. I prefer to hike or walk or journal to process my thoughts and emotions. But admittedly, I’ve needed something more of late. During the last year, after the loss of my job and the official end of a dear friendship I’d hoped might be restored, I’ve been sensing an invitation to go deeper and address some unprocessed grief. Intuitively, I knew that this prompting to visit the cemetery was a part of that invitation to grieve. With two similar experiences two weeks in a row, I knew it was time to say yes to the invitation.
 
So, I drove to the cemetery that I had not visited since our family stood huddled together under a small protective awning that, despite its best efforts, could not shield us from the bone-chilling wind as we laid my father to rest. I was struck by the contrast of that winter’s day to this one—a mild August morning with low humidity and a gentle breeze.
 
As I parked and walked slowly toward their resting place, the tears began to form. Then, as I stood gazing at their names and dates, the tears I had been unable—and perhaps reluctant—to access now began to flow freely. Simultaneously, memories began to surface as if a photo album had been opened, but rather than shut it quickly as I tend to do, I allowed the images to come, increasing the flow of my tears. With no one around to see or hear me, I sat on a nearby bench and cried freely as I shared vulnerably with God. After acknowledging authentic feelings that had lain dormant for some time, I gave thanks that God has been with me through every loss, every heartbreak, every disappointment, every time of loneliness. I acknowledged, with sincere gratitude, that only God’s presence can meet my deepest needs. Amazingly, in that moment the clouds parted and the sun shone down strongly on me. Overcome by the literal expression of the light and warmth of God’s love, tears of joy mingled with tears of grief, and I sat with my face upturned toward the sun, soaking in the love of God.
 
As I walked back to my car and prepared to drive away, I looked to my right and was struck by the beauty of a bed of purple petunias. Suddenly two yellow butterflies emerged—and then two more. As they flitted and danced among the flowers, I thought of Mom and Dad—and my mothers-in-law Miriam and Judy—who are now fully transformed and whole in God’s presence.
 
The writer of Ecclesiastes tells us there is a time for mourning and a time for dancing, but what the author doesn’t say is that they are not mutually exclusive. Contrary to popular belief, it’s possible to hold opposing emotions at the same time. Sadness and joy are not either/or but both/and. So, if we feel stuck in one emotion, we can get curious about what other emotions we haven’t acknowledged or allowed ourselves to feel and allow space and time to feel whatever surfaces.
 
Whatever you’re feeling today, I encourage you to be gentle with yourself as you pay attention to your inner movements and the invitations of the Holy Spirit. As I experienced today, sometimes going to an actual place—or holding a physical object of some significance—can help you to access emotions that need to be expressed and witnessed as you focus on God’s presence in the here and now through your surroundings and five senses. (Referring to a feelings chart or wheel is another helpful way to identify and express emotions when you're unsure what you're feeling.)

Most of all, here's what I want to leave you with: wherever you find yourself on any given day, God’s loving presence is always with you, even if you don’t recognize it. Even if you feel stuck. Even then—and especially then—God is laboring in love in your life. Feelings come and go, as do times of stuck-ness, but God's love for us is as constant as the sun. And God's loving presence is the safest place to allow ourselves to feel our feelings.

 
Are you tired of the conflict that has come to characterize our culture? Me, too. Some days I wish there was a failproof prayer or plan that would eliminate it for good. Other days I do my best to ignore it—and I’m able to do that for a while if I unplug or limit media intake. But try as I might, I cannot truly ignore, escape, or eliminate conflict—and neither can you. The only healthy way out of conflict is through it, addressing it patiently—person by person, moment by moment—with love, wisdom, and grace. And the only way to do that is to look inward at our own internal conflict, because all conflict begins within us.
 
That statement may make you want to stop reading right now! But I encourage you to stick with me and keep reading. Because when we deal with the conflict within us, it has a positive affect on how we handle the conflict around us. We must invite God to bring healing and harmony in us if we want God to work through us to bring healing and harmony in the world. If we will address our own internal conflict with love, wisdom, and grace, we will be equipped to do the same in our relationships with others.
 
In case you’re thinking, I don’t have any internal conflict, here’s a simple litmus test. Ask yourself if you’ve ever said something like this:

We use this kind of language all the time, and when we do, we’re describing internal conflict. Dr. Richard Schwartz, founder of the therapeutic model IFS (Internal Family Systems), explains that each of us has different internal “parts” that hold various roles and points of view. You might say that each of us has an “internal family,” and the family members don’t always see eye to eye!
 
Understanding how our internal family works can help us to extend more compassion and grace to ourselves—and to others—in the face of conflict. That certainly has been true in my own life, which is why I'm so passionate about sharing IFS, or parts work, with others. (At the end of this article, I'll share some ways it has been transformative in my life and the lives of those I meet with for spiritual direction.)

Here’s a simple overview of the model.

IFS divides our internal family members into three types of parts:

1. Exiles: These parts carry pain, shame, fear, or trauma, usually from childhood. Stuck in the past, they have developed burdens or core beliefs such as, “I’m not good enough,” “I’m unwanted/unloved,” “I’m alone,” “I’m unsafe,” “It’s my fault,” etc.
2. Managers: These parts help us function well in the world and look good to others, protecting us from potential hurt and pain. They are proactive. Examples: performer, perfectionist, pleaser, critic, approval seeker, caregiver, organizer, observer, analyzer, etc.
3. Firefighters: These parts try to “rescue” us and get us out of pain when exiles are demanding attention and flooding us with emotion or shame. They are reactive. Examples: avoider, controller, competitor, cynic, skeptic, entertainer, rebel, compulsive one/addict, etc.

As in any family, some of these parts get along and others don’t. But unlike many dysfunctional families in which certain family members have ill intent, all our parts have our best interests at heart. Every part is trying to help us in its own way, even if the outcomes are not always desirable. Understanding this moves us from criticism and condemnation to curiosity and compassion.
 
In addition to these parts, there is the core of our being, our True Self or Spirit-led Self, which serves as the wise parent of the family. In union with God, the Spirit-led Self leads the internal family with love, wisdom, and grace. However, because our various parts have taken on burdens and false beliefs, they must learn to trust the Spirit-led Self and allow it to lead the family system toward internal harmony. This process is the work of IFS, which involves befriending and unburdening each part so that it may integrate harmoniously within the family system. From a Christian perspective, this is a beautiful picture of the process of sanctification, or becoming whole in Christ.

Often simply having a basic understanding of the internal family model increases our ability to give ourselves grace and be patient with ourselves when different parts of us hold conflicting thoughts and feelings. I’d like to highlight four basic principles from the model that can help us take practical steps toward addressing the conflict within—which, in turn, can help us to navigate the conflict around us. (These principles are taken from the steps of IFS but are not the steps themselves.)

1. Pause and get curious.

Often we become irritated and frustrated quickly rather than pausing to wonder what’s going on within us.  Simply taking a few deep breaths and getting curious about what’s happening inside us can help us move from a defensive or offensive posture to a more neutral one.
 
As we look inside with curiosity, we become aware of our feelings. Are we frustrated, irritated, angry, sad, afraid? Then we follow those feelings, eager to learn whatever they want us to know. We might ask ourselves, Why am I triggered? Why am I so angry? Why am I feeling sad right now? Pausing with curiosity enables us to ask questions that will lead us toward clarity.

2. Listen with genuine compassion.

Pausing and becoming curious helps us to listen to ourselves with compassion—not with a particular agenda or with feelings of self-pity, but with the genuine care and concern of our Spirit-led Self. This is a time to listen attentively to the stories, hurts, concerns, and fears held by some part of ourselves—often a younger part. It’s a time to “walk in another’s shoes,” so to speak, even though the “other” happens to be a part of ourselves.
 
Sometimes as we’re listening, an inner critic or another internal part will interrupt our thoughts, discounting or objecting to what is being said. When this happens, we can gently acknowledge the interrupting part and ask it to soften back so that we can continue listening to the one who was sharing. If it is willing, we can let it know that we will circle back to listen to it as well. When we make this promise, it’s important to keep it and check in with that part later, allowing it to be heard too. If the interrupting part will not soften back, then we should pause and listen compassionately to its concerns, acknowledging that they are important. Though sometimes we may want to silence a part of us, true healing comes from letting every part know it has a voice.
 
Listening with compassion enables us to show honor to every part of ourselves. Because we are image bearers of our Creator God, every part of us is worthy of honor and love.

3. Bear witness to concerns and pain.

To bear witness is to “be with” someone in their joy or pain. It is to be a safe, non-anxious, compassionate presence who allows another to share their experiences with vulnerability and authenticity without judging, shaming, or “fixing.” When we bear witness, we communicate our “with-ness” to another.
 
Just as we bear witness to others, we can bear witness to ourselves. Rather than trying to “fix” or get rid of a part of us, we can connect with that part from our Spirit-led Self and offer compassionate presence. As our Spirit-led Self assures the part that it’s not alone but is seen, known, and loved, the part comes to trust that there is someone who understands the burdens or pain it is carrying, as well as any ways it has been trying to help us. As trust builds, the part becomes willing to release its pain and burdens and take in the gifts or resources of God. This is the process of unburdening, when the Spirit of Christ draws near and does the work of healing and transformation that only God can do.

4. Express ongoing love and support.

Just as realizing we are not alone is necessary for unburdening, so receiving ongoing love and support is necessary for continued health. God designed us for community, and we need one another’s love and support throughout life’s journey to be healthy and whole. Likewise, when our internal family members love and support one another, we experience harmony and wholeness. Each time we express love and support to a part of ourselves, we are strengthening our connection and creating loving community within our internal family. The reason we address conflict is not simply to bring peace, though peace is a wonderful thing. We do it to foster loving community, which our Triune God both demonstrates and desires for us.

Personally, I have found IFS to be an incredibly effective tool in my own journey toward greater healing and wholeness. It has helped me to pay attention to parts of me that are skeptical, fearful, or guarded and learn from them about ways I've been hurt in the past so that I can allow God's healing in those places. It has enabled me to identify spiritual wounds, those experiences that gave me a false representation of God and caused parts of me to carry ideas about God that have created distance or doubt. I have seen IFS uncover lies that have dominated an individual's actions and feelings for years without explanation or understanding. I have watched someone find freedom from harmful labels that created overwhelming shame and begin to understand their resulting drive to be whatever others want or need them to be. I have witnessed another breaking free from the tyranny of having to perform constantly in order to feel worth and acceptance. I have walked with someone who had all but given up on God and is discovering the reality of an intimate and loving God by identifying the wounding representations of God that came through early caregivers. I have seen another recognize how conflict with a spouse has more to do with the ways they've both been wounded than with each other. This is why I believe these principles from the IFS model can help all of us to address our own internal conflict with love, wisdom, and grace. And as we do that, we will be equipped to do the same in our relationships with one another. My prayer is that we will not seek to avoid or eliminate conflict but will work through it together and grow in loving community.

If that question sounds odd to you or you have trouble answering, you’re not alone. Many of us give little thought to our relationship with self because we’re so focused on our relationships with others. Yet according to Dr. Caroline Leaf, neuroscientist and author of the bestselling books Cleaning Up Your Mental Mess and Switch on Your Brain, “At the end of the day your relationship with yourself will determine the quality and longevity of all other relationships, and ultimately your mental health and well-being.”[1] We can devote countless hours of time and energy to cultivating and improving relationships with others, but unless we’re cultivating a healthy relationship with self, our efforts will not bear long-lasting fruit.

The truth is, we cannot have healthy relationships with others without a healthy relationship with self. Scripture supports this idea. Jesus said, “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:39), which implies that a loving relationship with self enables us to love others well.

Some say that self-love is selfish and self-centered, and it can be when self is understood apart from our relationship with God. But healthy self-love, which flows from our identity as one who is deeply loved by God, is good and desirable and necessary for abundant living. Healthy self-love is knowing that we are a beloved child of God—one who is unconditionally and completely loved because of who we are, not what we do. In our performance-driven culture, accepting this can be more challenging than we may realize.

Even if you are quick to affirm that you are a beloved child of God, perhaps you sometimes struggle to fully believe it. It may not always feel true in your daily life.

At a recent retreat for women called Beloved, I invited each woman to complete this sentence anonymously: “I know God loves me, but…” They connected on common ground with honest and vulnerable responses such as these:

Do any of these statements resonate with you?

Often, we give lip service to our identity as God’s beloved child without fully embracing and living from that identity. We know in our heads that God loves us, but we struggle to believe it in our hearts, especially in those moments when we feel we’re not “measuring up.” At the retreat we explored why head knowledge alone is never sufficient when it comes to knowing and believing God loves us. We must experience the love of God if it is to change the way we interact with ourselves and the world.

Scripture affirms it is our experience of God’s love, not our knowledge of it, that changes us:

This verse speaks of the transformation that occurs when we receive God’s love—when it becomes lived experience rather than merely head knowledge. Experiential knowledge of God’s love is what heals us, making us complete or whole within. This transformation, first and foremost, is for our own good, because only when we love ourselves as God loves us can we love others the same way. Yet, how often do we wear ourselves out trying to love others without experiencing God’s love ourselves?

Simply put, self-love is allowing ourselves to be loved by God and then loving ourselves as God loves us. This brings us to an important question: How does God love us?

This is how God loves us, and this is how we are to love ourselves. If we’re struggling to love ourselves this way, it’s likely we’re not experiencing and receiving the unconditional love of God.

If that’s true of you, what can you do? Here are a few ideas. Perhaps you might need to…

There are many other possibilities. The idea is to slow down, bring your authentic self to God, and let God love you however you need to be loved. As you become more aware of God’s love in the present moment, it will become easier to receive God’s love. And as it becomes easier to receive God’s love, it will become easier to love yourself. Loving yourself includes things such as...

• being gentle with yourself.
• speaking to yourself with kindness and compassion as you would to a good friend.
• being patient with yourself, acknowledging the progress you’ve made, however slight.
• noticing and appreciating the good in yourself.
• allowing yourself to rest.
• being humble and curious, rather than defensive.
• acknowledging your limitations and struggles—to God and to others.
• identifying and replacing false messages you’ve internalized that have harmed you and your relationships (perhaps more than you realize).
• seeking help on the path to health and wholeness through counseling, spiritual direction, or a spiritual mentoring relationship.

So, let me ask you again: How’s your relationship with yourself? Rather than judging yourself, let this question be a gentle reminder to let God love you so you can love yourself as God does, with compassion and grace. Only then will you be able to “love others as yourself”—and cultivate healthy, long-lasting relationships.

[1] Dr. Caroline Leaf, Instagram post, May 18, 2022.

Longing for connection. Does that description fit you these days? It does me, and I know I’m not alone. Recently I returned from a retreat of about seventy women, and I’d say that “longing for connection” aptly describes the common sentiment of the group after a couple of years of isolation, uncertainty, and so many disruptions in our lives—including all kinds of losses. It was beautiful to see their hunger to connect and to share their stories with one another in small groups, at meals, and during other activities of the retreat.
 
Of course, this renewed longing for authentic connection is not limited to women. Our church recently started an early morning men’s prayer group, and between fifty and sixty-five men are showing up each week to pray together at 6:30 am. Let that sink in. I’ve heard of men getting up before the sun rises to go the gym, go for a run, or beat the traffic and get a jumpstart on the workday, but only a spiritual longing for relationship with God and one another could motivate that many men to gather weekly at 6:30 am to pray!
 
Though I’ve been gathering with small groups for decades, the depth of openness and vulnerability I’ve witnessed lately seems to be indicative of an acute desire to be witnessed—to be seen, heard, known, and loved just as we are. Perhaps the isolation of the pandemic has contributed to this phenomenon. Perhaps the struggles and losses we’ve experienced have increased our awareness of our need for deep and meaningful connections. The truth is, we always need deep connection, but often our awareness of this need is dulled by activity and distractions. As a result, we become lulled to “sleep” and accustomed to more superficial relationships and experiences, avoiding the authentic sharing that leads to healing and wholeness.
 

A significant positive outcome of the last two years is a communal reawakening to the importance of deeper connections—with one another and with God. So often it is a heart-to-heart connection with others that facilitates a deeper connection with God, helping us to experience God’s presence and love in real and tangible ways as we are witnessed, accepted, and loved by others.
 
Deep down, we all desire to be known as we truly are—to take off the masks we wear and allow others to witness our most authentic selves. This is what drives our longing for connection, and I believe it is our deepest longing as human beings created in the image of God. Being seen and known as we are—loved unconditionally and completely—is how God loves us. So, when we experience this kind of acceptance and love from one another, we are experiencing the love of God. This is why I believe all healing happens in relationship. As we bear witness to one another and accept one another unconditionally, the healing love of God is at work.

Who loves you in this way, encouraging you to be yourself, to grow, and to become more and more integrated and whole as you allow God to continue working in you? These individuals welcome you even as you let go of behavior patterns that may be outwardly “pleasant” but are inwardly unhealthy, such as people pleasing, co-dependency, avoidance, or peacekeeping (which is different from peacemaking). With whom do you feel the freedom to share your hopes and dreams, fears and struggles, hurts and disappointments—even when this requires discussing needs or unhealthy issues in the relationship? And to whom are you this kind of friend? Cultivating intimate, authentic relationships requires time and patience and sometimes involves heartbreak—because authenticity requires vulnerability, which can open us to hurt or even rejection. But it’s worth the risk because we cannot have abundant lives without deep connections.

So, how do we begin? Here are six simple suggestions.

In and through all these suggestions, we can pray, inviting God to help us cultivate deeper connections with others. Then we wait and watch and respond to God's activity—because God is always at work. Because God is the One who has given us the desire for connection—the longing to be seen, known, and loved just as we are—God will be faithful to fulfill this desire as we let go of our own agendas and expectations and join God where God is working. We also can ask God to open our eyes to those people in our lives who are already offering safe, authentic connection and express our gratitude—to God and to them. Best of all, as we seek and cultivate intimate relationships with others, we will come to experience God’s deep and unfailing love for us!

“They’ll know we are Christians by our love, by our love.” I grew up singing this song based on Jesus’ words in John 13:35, and I still believe the truth of these words. Sadly, a quick look at the news or social media reveals a desperate need for more love these days, including among those of us who follow Jesus.

I’ll be the first to admit that love isn’t always the thing that unquestionably signals I’m a follower of Christ. The events of the last two years seem to have had a cumulative effect on all of us, making it more challenging for us to love at times because of our sense of overwhelm. That’s not an excuse but simply an observation. My intent is not to criticize, blame, or discourage. We’ve had enough of that! Rather, my hope is to offer some encouragement based on a simple concept that has been invaluable to me in my own journey to love more consistently—and to stay connected to God when the warm and fuzzy feelings aren't there and disappointment and doubt have rolled in like a fog. It’s called the Love Loop.

We see the Love Loop in 1 John 4:19 (CEB): “We love because God first loved us.” God initiates a cycle of love by loving us, and we respond by loving God and others. This beautiful cycle of love begins with God, who scripture tells us is love (1 John 4:8). Scripture also tells us that our loving God is a giver of good gifts:

What's more, God's love is generous and extravagant:

Saint Ignatius, who lived in the sixteenth century, put it this way:

God’s lavish love comes to us in many ways—through other people, God’s continuing work in the world, the promises of scripture, God’s self-giving gift of Jesus, every aspect and creature of creation, and countless blessings that are evident every day if we have eyes to see them. All are loving gifts inviting us to love in return. Especially on those days when we don't feel very loving—toward God or toward others—simply noticing these gifts allows love to seep back in to our depleted souls, softening our hearts. Sometimes the most ordinary gifts can flood our hearts with love and gratitude: a beautiful sunrise or sunset, a word of encouragement, a smile from a stranger, a phone call from a friend, a hug, a delicious meal, a simple answer to prayer, the singing of birds, the comfort of a pet, a word of scripture, or a million other everyday things. Even our very breath, which sounds like God's name—YaHWeH—reminds us that we live and move and have our being in God (Acts 17:28). These gifts enable us not only to know God loves us in our heads but to actually experience it in our hearts. Even when we're struggling to believe God loves us or feeling disappointed or angry with God, simply noticing these love gifts can be like a lifeline, keeping us tethered to God.

As is true of all gifts, the real impact comes when we not only notice the gifts but actually receive them as personal expressions of God's love. Getting there can be a process, and that's okay. It may take time for us to view God's gifts and graces as expressions of God’s love for us personally. Perhaps God seems more distant to us, or we may feel we have to do something in order to receive God's love. The beautiful thing is that as we continue to notice and appreciate God's loving gifts, slowly but surely we will begin to receive them in a more personal way, which will fuel a response of love. The more we take in God’s good gifts of love, the more we are able to love as we have been loved.

The Love Loop, then, is noticing God's loving gifts and responding in love. Whenever we realize we’re not being very loving, that can be a signal that we’ve fallen out of the Love Loop and need to get back in it. There's no shame in this realization but simply the recognition that we're human and imperfect and in need of grace, which God freely gives. This awareness prompts us to make an adjustment—an intentional choice—that positions us to receive God's love once again, which results in our own response of love.

So, how do we get back in the flow of God's love? It’s different for each of us. For me, getting outside and enjoying God's creation—especially hiking in the woods—helps me to get back in the flow, as does meditating on scripture, journaling, and sharing from the heart with a good friend. Worshiping in community is another powerful conduit of God's love for me. Since the pandemic began, simply being present and noticing the simple gifts of the moment have been extremely powerful, as well. I’m offering some steps below that I hope will help you to make your own list so that you can implement the Love Loop in your life.

My prayer is that as we practice being aware of God’s gifts and learn to receive them as personal expressions of love for us, God’s love will flow more freely through us to a world in desperate need of love. May they know we are Christians by our love!

1. Ask yourself a few questions.

• When do I feel loved?
• What helps me to experience and receive God's love?
• When am I filled with gratitude?
  

Go ahead and make a list. If you have trouble, reflect daily for a week or two on the ways you receive love, and then make your list.

2. Periodically check in with yourself, asking: Am I loving well? Become aware of "where you are"—whether you’re in or out of the Love Loop.
3. If you’ve fallen out of the Love Loop, as we so often do, offer yourself grace (the same grace God extends to you) and make an adjustment to get back in it. Look to your list and choose something that helps you to receive and experience God’s love—even if you don’t feel like it at first. Trust the process and be patient.
4. As you begin to receive and experience God's love once again, respond with gratitude and love. Perhaps your loving response will be to others before you're ready to respond in love to God, or vice versa. Wherever you are in the journey is okay. Just stay in the loop and let love flow. God will take care of the rest.

Traditionally the start of a new year is a time to focus on resolutions, goal setting, and action steps. But often what happens is we set off chasing what we think will make us happy and fulfilled—such as a lower number on the scale, a higher number on our bank statement, or a greater sense of organization or efficiency in our lives—without first considering our deepest desires. When we take time to prayerfully identify and reflect on our deepest desires, we discover what is most life-giving to us so that our plans, goals, and actions can flow from our truest longings.

Sometimes we talk about “desire” as if it’s a dirty word, as if having desires is wrong or all desires are dangerous. That’s simply not true. God created us to have desires! Jeremiah 17:9 is often quoted in reference to desires, warning us that “the heart is deceitful above things and beyond cure” (NIV). But this verse is talking about the heart when it is not connected to God and seeking God’s will. It describes a heart that is focused on the flesh or the ego—the feelings, will, and intellect apart from God.

A heart that is connected to God and seeking God’s will is not deceitful but discerning. Psalm 37:4 speaks to us about this kind of heart: “Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart” (NIV). When we delight ourselves in God, God gives us the desires of our hearts—desires that God has planted within us. These desires, which I’m calling our deepest or truest desires, enable us to draw closer to God and live as our most authentic selves—the persons God has designed us to be.

Saint Ignatius, who lived in the sixteenth century, wrote about the importance of our desires. He said, “God inflames the heart with holy desires and with attractions toward a life of greater divine praise and service.” In other words, our deep desires or soul yearnings grow our love of God and deepen our relationship with God and our relationships with others.

So, how do we go about discerning our deepest and truest desires? Here are a few questions to guide us:

When we recognize and do those things that help us draw closer to God, experience God’s love, and feel like our most authentic selves, we discover our deepest desires—those things planted within us that will enable us to live in the flow of God’s love. And as we live in that flow—receiving God’s love and responding in love according to our unique design—we fulfill the desires of our hearts.

Eric Liddell of Chariots of Fire fame said that when he ran, he felt God’s pleasure. Perhaps the most basic starting point is to ask yourself, When do I feel God’s pleasure?
The answer is different for each of us. I feel God’s pleasure when I sit one-on-one with others, hearing them share their hearts and stories and listening together for how God is at work in their lives. I experience God’s pleasure and love when I’m connecting with someone deeply, from the heart, offering encouragement and companionship for the soul. Even during my long career in publishing, the times when I felt like my most authentic self were when I was encouraging and helping authors to discern God’s callings and lean into God’s invitations and giftings.

One of my deepest desires is to companion and encourage others on the spiritual journey so that they can experience, receive, and live in the flow of God’s love, which brings healing and wholeness. I can fulfill this longing in different ways, but the underlying desire remains the same. Knowing this enables me to focus on those things that nurture and satisfy this desire, rather than allowing myself to be distracted by other things that may be good but do not connect in some way to this desire. Of course, balance is important in all things. But the idea is to attend to our deepest desires so that everything else can flow naturally from a place of authenticity and love.

I encourage you to spend some time reflecting, praying, and journaling about your deepest desires. Let 2022 be a year to discover, reclaim, or reaffirm those things that fuel your connection with God and your experience of God’s love. Focusing on your deepest desires is not selfish; it is the way to center your life in God—to fall in love with God. Then your actions and your very life will become a loving response to God’s love.

Advent is a time of preparation for the celebration of the birth of Christ—and the second coming of Christ. In a sense, it is a season of intentional longing and waiting. I’ve been giving a lot of thought to waiting this Advent, perhaps because we’ve been in an extended season of waiting since the pandemic began. But the truth is, we do a lot of waiting on the regular…

Even when we’re sure that what we’re waiting for will come and will be good, it seems we rarely enjoy waiting. In general, our default in times of waiting is to become impatient and restless. And when waiting is prolonged, with no guaranteed ending, it often leads to frustration, sadness, and even despair. The truth is, whether it seems good or bad, happy or sad, waiting is just hard because it magnifies our longing. Every unmet desire creates a hollow place in the heart that longs to be filled.

Do you have any unmet desires? If you do, then you have hollow places. I do, too. Here’s the question I’ve been asking myself: What am I going to do with my hollow places?

One option is to ignore them, pretending they’re not there and everything is fine. I’ve done this so often that I’ve become very proficient at it, but I’ve discovered that it’s like driving a car low on gas—eventually the car will stop running, forcing me to acknowledge and address the situation.

Another option is to numb any pain, frustration, or disappointment I’m feeling. I do this far more often than I’d like to admit. It’s so much easier to turn on Netflix or reach for some chocolate than to attend to my longings and the emotions connected to them. But this, too, is only a temporary fix—and one that can lead to other problems.  

A third option is to try to fill the hollow places with busyness. This actually can be a helpful coping mechanism in the short-term, when there is a known or projected end to the waiting. I have a friend who busies herself with sewing during temporary periods of waiting, and it not only occupies her mind and her hands but also provides beautiful gifts of love for others. Busyness, however, is not a permanent fix for the long haul. It can never fill the void caused by ongoing, indefinite waiting.

As I’ve considered what to do with my hollow places and how I can move more readily from impatience and frustration to perseverance and hope in times of waiting, I’ve realized that I can benefit from the rhythms of Advent—a season marked by waiting with expectancy and hope. In Advent we light candles to remind us that light has pierced the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it. In Advent we give generously to others to remind us that Love expels all fear. In Advent, we sing songs of hope and praise to remind us that God sees us and comes to our aid. In Advent we lean into prayer to remind us that God is with us—always.

Light. Love. Praise. Prayer. These four rhythms fuel my hope and remind me that I’m not alone in my waiting. When I make them a regular part of my life—by doing things such as lighting candles, gazing at the stars, appreciating the sunrise and sunset, giving and receiving love in countless ways, listening to hope-filled music, singing songs of praise to God, and talking with God about my longings and feelings—these rhythms invite me to ache along with the rest of the world for the answer to every unmet desire. Whatever our longings may be, beneath them all is the desire for intimacy with our loving Creator—the One who made us, came to live among us in Jesus, sends his Spirit to dwell within us, and promises to come again to make all things new and right.

In the meantime, as we wait, we have God’s loving presence through the gifts of creation, the Holy Spirit, and other people. God knows it’s not good for us to be alone and we need to experience love in tangible ways. So, just as God came to be with us in Jesus, God also comes to be with us through the loving presence of other people. In fact, when I asked friends how others have encouraged or supported them during extended times of waiting, they all mentioned the gift of presence. They said that whether others sat with them, checked on them, did things with them, texted or called them, or prayed with and for them, the gift of presence was an expression of love that communicated “I’m here with you” and “You’re not alone.” This is essentially the message of Advent: God loves us and has come to be with us.

Waiting is hard, but it can yield good things. Whatever you are waiting for in this season, I invite you to join me in making light, love, praise, and prayer regular rhythms so our hollow places can become hallowed ground where we welcome Christ to be born anew in us.

Imagine you’ve been invited to Thanksgiving dinner, and you don’t have to cook or bring one thing. As you walk into the house, you’re greeted by the alluring aroma of turkey and dressing and all the trimmings, along with a variety of delicious desserts. Everything is spread on a beautifully decorated table. As your host ushers you to your place at the table, your mouth begins to water and your stomach rumbles uncontrollably. After a blessing is given, the dishes are passed around the table so that all can help themselves. But as each dish comes to you, you pass it on to the next person without taking any for yourself.

Your plate remains empty as you sit there, watching everyone else eat. When your host entreats you to fill your plate and enjoy the delicious foods, you reply that you are enjoying them—they look and smell wonderful, and that is enough. “Besides,” you say hesitantly, “I believe this food was prepared for everyone else but not for me personally. To think that would be presumptuous and self-centered.” With great sorrow, your host responds, “I made this meal for each of you, and I took care to include your favorite dishes. It was a labor of love for you, and it would fill me with great joy and delight if you would taste and see how delicious it is.” Still, you politely decline, convinced the meal is meant for others but not for your personal consumption. You tell yourself you are content just to sit at the table.

This scenario seems ridiculous, doesn’t it? Why would someone attend a Thanksgiving meal and refuse to eat anything, including his or her favorite foods? How could someone accept a personal invitation yet believe the meal was not intended for them? Yet, we do a similar thing when we fail to “taste and see” God’s goodness and love in the many gifts God so generously provides each day. We might notice them and, on some days, even feel gratitude for them; yet often we stop short of actually “tasting” them—receiving them as expressions of God’s very deep and personal love for us.

God, who is love, showers us with “love gifts” every day­—gifts of creation, other people, and experiences—all so that we can know God’s love and respond in love. A delicious meal. A beautiful sunset. A bird’s song. A loved one’s embrace. An encouraging word. A moment of joy with a child. A needed talk with a friend. A kindness from a stranger. An answer to prayer. An unexpected opportunity. And a million other things. Saint Ignatius, who lived in the 16th century, said that "everything God has created [and is continually creating in the moment] is a gift presented to us so that we can know God more easily and return God’s love more readily."* So, failing to receive these gifts as expressions of God’s personal love for us means we’re missing out on the sweetness of an intimate love relationship with God. We’re essentially taking ourselves out of the reciprocal flow of God’s love. When this happens, God is displaced in our lives and we become attached to lesser things—things that can never fully satisfy, things that leave us wanting. We tell ourselves that this is enough—that we’re satisfied to just sit at the table—but God has so much more for us.

In this season of giving thanks, I invite you not only to notice and appreciate God’s many gifts but to actually “taste” them—to receive and savor them as love gifts meant just for you. Pay attention to how God is speaking to you personally through the ordinary gifts of your daily life, and then consider how you are being invited to respond in love. You can do this at the end of the day or in the morning, reflecting on the previous day. Simply take a few minutes to recall the gifts and loving moments of the day and then reflect, prayerfully listening and talking with God. This simple practice, called the Examen, will deepen not only your relationship with God but also your relationships with others as you become more and more aware of God’s loving activity in the details of your life and choose to respond with love. It cultivates a beautiful, ongoing “love loop”—God loving you, and you responding by loving God and others. I encourage you to give it a try for thirty days and see what happens. Remember, you’re invited not just to sit at the table but to feast on God’s never-ending gifts of love.

Have you ever seen people on social media ask, “What has been saving your life lately?” I’m always interested to read the responses. For me, the answer is two simple but powerful words: radical grace.

Growing up as a preacher’s kid, I’ve been “swimming” in the waters of grace all my life—learning about grace, singing about grace, receiving grace, extending grace—yet not always consistently and certainly not perfectly. Though I can say that God’s radical grace literally saves me every day, and I’m overwhelmingly grateful for that, it wasn’t until just a few years ago, when I began my journey through the nine-month Retreat in Daily Life (the Spiritual Exercises), that I truly began to extend this same radical grace to myself. And that has been a game changer for me.

What does it mean to offer ourselves radical grace? And what is grace anyway? It's one of those "church words" that is used so often it can get watered down and lose its impact. Grace can be defined as unmerited favor, and that means undeserved approval or kindness. In other words, radical grace is lovingkindness without judgment--freely given, not earned. And the source of this lovingkindness is God. In John’s Gospel we read, “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.... For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace” (John 1:14, 16 ESV). In addition to God’s general grace, evident in so many gifts that are ours to enjoy every day, we have God’s specific and ultimate gift of grace through Jesus Christ. Because of Jesus, we have unlimited forgiveness,  unconditional acceptance, and never-ending love.

Because God showers us with radical grace, we can extend to ourselves the same grace that we receive from God. Brennan Manning writes, “Genuine self-acceptance is not derived from the power of positive thinking, mind games or pop psychology. IT IS AN ACT OF FAITH in the God of grace.”1 To put it simply, because God accepts us as we are, we can do the same, trusting that our faithful God will do the work of refining and shaping us. This point is critical. God is the one who changes us, though we are involved in the process. So, if God accepts us completely as we are in every moment, continually showering us with lovingkindness, we can too. This kind of radical self-acceptance, made possible by God’s radical grace, is what opens us to true transformation.

I’ve found this to be true in my own life, especially during the last 18 months, which have been filled with so much loss, fear, change, transition, conflict, division, and uncertainty. I’ve discovered that offering myself radical grace in the midst of the highs and the lows, just as God does, opens me to God’s deeper work within. Radical grace helps to shine a light on those tricky and sometimes imperceptible obstacles within us such as unrelenting obligation, performance, comparison, criticism, false guilt, and shame so that I can talk honestly with God about them, leading to healing and freedom.

Of course, I am and always will be a work in progress. But it helps me to know that God’s love is continually at work in my life, regardless of what I may be thinking or feeling on any given day. Paradoxically, the more I accept myself as I am, the more I can let go and trust God to do the work that only God can do.

So, what does offering ourselves radical grace look like? Here are a few examples:

• When we're doing all we can in a given moment but feel we’re not measuring up, we can accept our efforts as good enough instead of berating ourselves or striving and working harder, pushing ourselves to the point of exhaustion or burnout.
• When disappointment or loss comes, we can allow ourselves to acknowledge and experience our grief instead of minimizing or burying our hurt.
  
• When our feelings are undesirable, all over the map, or overwhelming, we can honor them, listening to what each one has to tell us instead of judging, criticizing, or ignoring it.
• When we have conflict or misunderstanding in a relationship, we can admit that we’re imperfect—as is the other person—rather than blaming or criticizing (ourselves or the other person) or “spinning” in negative thoughts as we replay the situation in our minds.

 
This isn't easy. Many of us find it much easier to give grace to others than to ourselves. As the saying goes, we are our own worst critics. We would never speak to a friend the way we sometimes speak to ourselves—with harsh, unkind, and even condemning words. The truth is that our inner critic is only a part of us, and this part needs radical grace, too! We can begin by speaking to our inner critic with compassion, love, and kindness, thanking it for trying to help us do better while affirming that it’s okay to be just as we are in this moment as we look to God for whatever help we need.

As with anything, it takes practice to get better at giving ourselves radical grace—which goes beyond “knowing” that God gives us grace. And "practicing" radical grace requires time and persistence. But here's the good news: the more we do it, the easier it becomes to…

• let go of guilt, shame, and anger when things aren’t going as we think they should.
  
• accept how and where we are right now, at this point in our journey, instead of judging and criticizing ourselves.
• be our true selves rather than comparing ourselves and our lives to others.
• acknowledge and express our authentic thoughts and feelings in safe ways with safe people.
• stop feeling “less than” or guilty when our relationship with God is not as we would like it to be (such as when we’re bored with spiritual practices, feeling distant or disconnected from God, not hearing God, or angry at God).
• release our expectations and agendas while holding onto hope and continuing to dream.

I encourage you to give radical grace a try. Start small and be persistent. Then begin offering yourself more and more radical grace—just as God does—and watch God work. And remember, you don’t have to worry if you’re “going too far” with grace because you can’t out-grace God! God can be trusted to complete the work begun in you. My prayer is that you, too, will be able to say that grace has not only saved your life but is saving it each and every day.

As I was reading the story of Moses and the burning bush recently, I thought about how Moses saw something that caught his attention and then paused to stop and be curious about it. As a result, he encountered and heard from God. I wondered if there had been other burning bushes prior to that day but Moses had been too distracted or preoccupied to notice. Or perhaps God had tried to get Moses’ attention in other ways on other days. We don’t know. What we do know is that on this day, Moses was paying attention, and that opened him to hear God’s invitation to embrace and participate in the vision of freeing God’s people.
 
As I continued to reflect on the story, I heard in my spirit: “Today is a day to remember one of your own burning bush moments.”
 
I sat with that perplexing thought for a moment, and then suddenly I knew what it was. About eight years ago during a group activity at a work retreat, God very unexpectedly but unmistakably planted the seed of a vision within me—to be in ministry with my husband, Neil, who is a counselor. I didn’t know what that meant at the time, and it would take several years of discernment and then several years of training as a spiritual director before we would begin to have a hint of “shared ministry” as we led a few small groups together. Now, on this day, we would have our first ministry session together with a couple preparing for marriage—each of us bringing our unique training and insights as well as our shared experience of leading others through the resource “How We Love.” I recognized the significance of this day—of having eyes to see God’s vision taking shape—and I was filled with overwhelming gratitude. Gratitude for that “burning bush” moment at the retreat all those years ago, gratitude for the journey of discernment that led to the path of spiritual direction, and gratitude for all that God has done and is doing. It seemed important not only to remember my burning bush moment but also to share it, giving God all the glory.

Perhaps you will be encouraged, as I have been, by the realization that there are potential “burning bush” moments every day. All we have to do is pay attention, be curious, and listen. They’re usually not “spectacular” or miraculous events but ordinary moments when God breaks through the mundane. In fact, that’s God’s specialty—communicating to us through everyday moments we might be tempted to overlook or dismiss.
 
God wants to speak to you through your “burning bush.” Just be attentive, curious, and ready to listen.*

If you’re online, you’ve probably seen at least one of the Holderness family’s funny music parody videos (theholdernessfamily.com). They’ve been especially relatable and entertaining this past year as we’ve all been walking through this unprecedented pandemic wilderness experience together. Believe it or not, Kim Holderness is an introvert, and recently she wrote about needing to ease back into social activity after this long season of isolation. (She admits extroverts will feel very differently about that!) Kim says when it comes to all sorts of relationships, she approaches them the way she gets into a pool—slowly and deliberately. She writes, “I take my time, but once I’m in, I’m loyal for life” ("To My Friends Who Keep Showing Up").

I can relate to that. I’ve always been one to ease into the pool—both literally and figuratively. But once I’ve waded into a relationship, I’m “in.” Even if I haven’t seen or talked to someone in a while, I carry them in my heart, always ready and eager to reconnect without skipping a beat. For those who have the desire to maintain an active, reciprocal friendship, I’m like a Collie—as loyal as they come. But one of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned is that others approach relationships differently. Some of us are more like Labradors, always eager to make new friends and embrace change. Others of us might be more similar to a Bloodhound by being drawn to our work or callings and seeing friendships more as bonuses than necessities. None of these approaches is necessarily “right” or “wrong,” only different. And it's important to understand and accept our differences while learning to navigate them in a way that leads to health rather than harm.

Regardless of our approach to relationships, there is one thing that is vital for all of us, and that is to recognize that every relationship has incredible value and sacred worth. For many of us, this pandemic has heightened our awareness of this truth. We were created to live in relationship, to need one another. And those whom God has brought into our lives—especially those we call family or friends—are precious gifts, each one meant to offer us something valuable. We can lose sight of this if we’re focused on always wanting others to conform to our needs and desires rather than considering theirs.

The truth is, we all are works in progress and have areas where we need to grow. In fact, each of us should seek to be self-aware and keep moving toward health and wholeness, because we’re all on a healing journey in this life. None of us has arrived yet. Each of us—even that person who seems to have it all together—has more healing and growing to do. (If you doubt that, just have coffee with them and really listen.) Simply recognizing this fact goes a long way toward helping us to appreciate and value every person, giving them the grace to be where they are on the journey. Of course, there will be some people who are unsafe—who repeatedly hurt us, whether physically, emotionally, or mentally—and we must learn to set appropriate, healthy boundaries in those cases. (Sometimes we can establish boundaries and remain in relationship, while other times it's wise to remove ourselves from relationship. A counselor, spiritual director, or pastor can help with discernment.) Yet even in situations involving unsafe people, there are lessons for us to receive, such as wisdom and self-love.

As things are beginning to open up and we’re emerging from this season of isolation into more connection and social activity, it’s healthy to spend some time talking with God about our relationships. Whether you’re an introvert who wants to ease back into social activity or an extrovert who’s ready to go full blazes; whether you’re more like a Collie, Labrador, or Bloodhound in your approach to relationships; whether you have a large circle of friends and acquaintances, a small circle of more intimate relationships, or something in-between—contemplating the purpose of relationships and the value of every person God has brought into your life can help you to be both intentional and open as you assess where you are now and where you’d like to be in these relationships.

Is this a time to renew old relationships, pour into current relationships, or anticipate and cultivate new ones? Perhaps it’s a time for all three. Rather than making this determination on your own and jumping ahead to decisions about what you will and won’t do, I encourage you to pause for prayerful reflection and allow God to direct you. We can rest in knowing that God desires for us to live in community and have lifegiving relationships, and God promises to direct our path when we release control and trust in God’s wisdom and guidance (Proverbs 3:5-6). My prayer is that we all will have eyes to see every relationship in our lives as a gift from God and an opportunity to both receive and offer God’s love.

I just returned from a three-day personal retreat. Why on earth would I go away by myself for even more solitude when we’ve been isolated for so long in the pandemic? Because the noise, distractions, and challenges of daily life can dull our spiritual ears and hearts—even if we live alone or in relative quiet with just one other person, as I do. Add in some delayed grief and another recent loss, and I knew I was overdue. I longed to hear God’s voice within more clearly and reconnect with my spiritual heart, discovering my God-given desires in this season.

This time away brought rest, release, and renewal as I surrendered to the invitation to simply “be” and enjoy things that bring me joy. For me, that included things like taking walks, journaling, meditating on scripture, practicing yoga, coloring, painting, playing my flute (I realized how much I have missed that), savoring fresh juice, observing the beauty of spring, going barefoot, and simply sitting and listening to a thunderstorm. Besides talking with God in my usual ways, I allowed all of these activities to become prayer—moments of enjoying God’s company as we just hung out together. Despite some popular misconceptions, God is a really fun companion! And that’s good news, because God’s Spirit, who dwells within us, actually is our constant companion.

Throughout my three days of solitude, I sensed the invitation to simply receive and rest in God’s great love--for me. It was a beautiful time of allowing God to love me and allowing myself to love me, too. At times my inner critic and task manager whispered that something I was doing was “wasting time” or nonproductive. And I just gently responded that being with God and enjoying each other’s company is never a waste of time; it actually redeems time by restoring what so much of our “productive time” has stolen from us. God knew that this simple yet profoundly meaningful “resting and receiving” is just what my soul needed right now.

Though I did receive some clarity about my heart’s desires, I realized with great clarity that my deepest desire is simply to be filled with love—to remain in what Ignatian spirituality (which, by the way, is incredibly practical spirituality) calls the “love loop”: God loving us (in a million different ways each day), and us loving God and others in response. Becoming more and more aware of this love loop each and every day is what helps us to remain in it—and then to get back in the loop when we fall out of it, as we all do (quite regularly, in fact).

When we’re attentive to how continually and overwhelmingly God loves us, just as we are, nothing is more natural than to love in response. Take in these beautiful words of Pedro Arrupe:

I encourage you to take time for solitude and silence, even if all you can think about right now is being with others and returning to some sense of normalcy. I long for that too. But unlike the solitude of the pandemic, the gift of intentional solitude—chosen for the purpose of connecting more deeply with ourselves and with God—refreshes our souls and spirits unlike anything else. And that's something we all need in this season.

I’m writing this on Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the season of Lent, which is the period of forty days preceding Easter. Traditionally, it is a season for reflection and repentance—turning toward God and away from whatever separates us from God—as we prepare ourselves for the celebration of Easter. The forty days of Lent represent the forty days that Jesus spent in the wilderness, enduring temptation and suffering before he began his ministry. It’s an opportunity to identify with Christ and deepen our relationship with God. A common practice during this season is to fast or give up something so that we become more aware of our reliance on God and both increase and intensify our time in prayer.

In the past I’ve given up certain foods, social media, and unhelpful practices such as complaining—some with more “success” than others—though it’s really not about “success” at all but about the practice of focusing our minds on God. Yet, if we’re really honest, there are times when our self-denial may be less about deepening our relationship with God and more about losing weight, becoming healthier, or bettering ourselves in some way. Or we might tell ourselves that any self-improvement resulting from our self-denial is merely a nice “bonus.” I’ll admit I've told myself that before—just keeping it real.

Like many others, I’ve found that giving up something for Lent is not always the best way for me to draw closer to God. Sometimes taking on something—such as adding or recommitting to a spiritual practice or being intentional in the ways I love and serve others—helps me to experience God more fully. Just as God speaks to us in different ways, we can be drawn to different practices at different times, especially if we’re in a season of hardship or loss.

The last two years have brought some significant losses in my life—the loss of my mother-in-law to Alzheimer’s, my father to Parkinson’s, several family friends to Covid and other illnesses, both of our longtime pets to advanced age, and another loss I will share more about at another time. Though your losses may be very different than mine, the truth is that the last year has brought loss and difficulty to all of us. This continues to be an ongoing wilderness season, adding the weight of communal loss to what we are carrying personally. So, this Lent I’m sensing an invitation to journey through the season with gentleness and grace, giving myself permission to do the things that draw me nearer to God and help me to experience and rest in God’s extravagant love—which, after all, is the reason God sent Jesus in the first place (John 3:16). God’s message always has been and always will be, “You are so loved!” That’s a message I need every day, and I suspect you do too.

For the next forty days, I’m letting go of rigidity and choosing simply to “hang out” with God each day in whatever way I feel drawn. Some days I may spend time in Centering Prayer, which is sitting quietly with God without words. (If that appeals to you, see below.) Other days I may choose to journal, capturing my conversation with God on paper. (If that interests you, also see below.) Some days I may choose to spend time in imaginative prayer, entering the Scripture scene through the God-given gift of my imagination—one of the most experiential and powerful ways we can pray. No doubt there will be days when I simply take a walk or spend time on my yoga mat, meditating on God and God’s Word as I move my body. Whatever I do, I will allow the Spirit to lead me, asking myself questions such as these:

What will give me life today?
What will deepen my connection with God/Christ today?
What will increase my sense of faith/hope/love today?  
What will give me joy in the Lord today?

Giving up something may be just what you need to draw you closer to God this Lent. If so, I encourage you to allow your self-denial to be a way of walking gently toward Easter, remembering that the objective is not to be “successful” but simply to focus on your relationship with God. Or perhaps, like me, you may decide that what will bring more spiritual growth in this season is to add rather than subtract something from your life. Maybe you will choose a combination of the two. Whatever you decide, I encourage you to discern what will deepen the life and love of God in you

Lent is not a one-size-fits-all season, and it’s okay for your practices to look different from those of others. Listen to your deepest, truest self—the part of you where the Spirit of God dwells—and allow God’s Spirit in you to reveal what will be most nourishing to your spiritual heart right now. Then choose to do that, trusting that your journey will bring you closer to the heart of God!

It’s the start of a new year, and everywhere I look I see suggestions for how to make improvements in my life, from physical fitness to organization to spiritual growth. I’m all for ongoing growth, especially spiritual growth; but so often we approach our spiritual formation as a to-do list, thinking that if we just read the Bible more, pray more, or serve more, then we will reap spiritual growth (become more like Christ). The emphasis in this mindset is on self-effort and striving, which lead to shame. These three life-taking S’s keep us trapped in a cycle of performance:

• Self-effort – I must work to bring about my spiritual growth. (Focuses on my own effort. “It’s up to me.”)
• Striving – I must work to bring about my spiritual growth. (Focuses on what I do. “I need to do more.”)
• Shame – I must work to bring about my spiritual growth. (Focuses on how I’m doing. “I should be better” or “I’m not enough.”)

Actually, the path to spiritual growth is one of releasing, not doing. It’s a process of letting go of self-effort, striving, and shame so that we can allow God to transform us, making us who we are meant to be. Contemplative practices facilitate this process, enabling us to quiet our minds and connect deeply with God so that “God, who began the good work within [us], will continue his work until it is finally finished….” (Philippians 1:6 NLT). Our part in this process is letting go through three life-giving S’s that lead to transformation:

• Silence
• Solitude
• Stillness

There was a time when I resisted these three S’s. As a 2 on the Enneagram (which is one way of looking at personality types), I desire connection, which generally involves being with people and communicating. So, silence and solitude were not initially appealing to me. Similarly, my 3 wing likes to be valued for being productive, something that our culture not only encourages but actually demands of us—and something that is not possible in stillness. But as I have learned to embrace silence, solitude, and stillness, I have discovered that these contemplative practices actually deliver so much more than the motivations of my ego ever could. The same is true for you, whatever your Enneagram number or interior motivation might be. Silence, solitude, and stillness slow us down, allowing us to let go of mental clutter, connect deeply with God, and rest in God's healing presence and love. And that is what transforms us.

If you're still not convinced, I get it. Few of us are inclined to enthusiastically embrace silence, solitude, or stillness—at least not in the beginning. From the time we rise in the morning to the time we go to sleep at night, we’re continually stimulated by a variety of screens and other "inputs" that keep our minds engaged and our hearts distracted. There is much within us that resists slowing down and quieting the noise. Quiet allows our fears, worries, regrets, disappointments, doubts, and resentments to surface—and who wants that, right? But here's the liberating truth: making space for these things to surface gives us the opportunity to practice noticing them and then letting them go as we acknowledge we are not in control and invite God to work within us. Silence, solitude, and stillness open us to this transformative work.

Centering prayer is a good way to begin practicing these postures that invite God’s deep work within. (See below for the guidelines and benefits of centering prayer.) In this practice of praying without words, God is accomplishing something we could never do for ourselves, something too deep for words. When I think of centering prayer, I think of Romans 8:26-27, which tells us that when we do not know what to pray, the Spirit intercedes for us with “wordless groans” (NIV), searching our hearts. I love how The Message Bible expresses it:

We might say that centering prayer is the practice of completely trusting the Spirit of God to pray and work in us. Our part is simply to show up and "practice" letting go, noticing and releasing thoughts and emotions as they arise and then returning to resting in God. And, as with anything we “practice,” the fruit of our practice comes over time. The key is to stick with it and trust that, slowly but surely, noticeable changes will become evident—both within us and within our lives.

I admit that when I first started practicing centering prayer, it seemed that nothing was happening, and I was impatient with the process. But in time, I began to notice in my daily experience some of the benefits I had read about, such as being more present to God and others, more responsive (rather than reactive), and more at peace. Once I had this realization, I was hooked! Though purists suggest spending twenty minutes in prayer once or twice daily, I've found that to be unrealistic with my schedule. So, believing that something is better than nothing and that flexibility and customization are not only acceptable but also desirable when it comes to spiritual practices (after all, God works with each of us uniquely), I gave myself permission to develop a centering prayer practice that works for me. Though the duration of my silence varies, I notice benefits as long as I consistently make space for the practice.

During the past couple of years, which brought several significant losses, practicing silence, solitude, and stillness has been instrumental in helping me to "let go" and surrender to God’s work within me. This practice helped me through 2020, and I'm counting on it to see me through 2021. In fact, I have decided to make even more space in my life this year for this transformational practice. Phileena Heuertz says that "To the extent we are transformed, the world is transformed,"* and I agree that our our own transformation is necessary for the transformation of the world around us.

If you would like to join me in inviting God to do a deep work in you as you slow down and make space for more silence, solitude, and stillness this year, centering prayer is an excellent way to get started. For many people, sitting in silence with others can be more comfortable than doing it alone. Though a mystery, it's possible to experience solitude and community simultaneously. In fact, joining others in silence actually unites us as we rest in God’s love together.

During the season of Lent (the forty days preceding Easter), my friend and fellow spiritual director Scott Spradley and I will be offering an online centering prayer group designed as an introduction to the practice. We will meet on Zoom each Wednesday during the Lenten season. All are welcome, and we’d love to have you join us (see below for more info). Or if you’d like to try centering prayer on your own, I encourage you to download the centering prayer app from Contemplative Outreach (also see below), which allows you to select the duration of your silence and offers a variety of beginning/ending sounds and a selection of opening/closing prayers.  

Of course, centering prayer is not the only way to slow down and connect more deeply with God. Observing regular Sabbath rest, meditating on Scripture (such as lectio divina), journaling, observing nature, taking walks or hikes, and practicing breath prayer are just a few examples of other contemplative practices. Choose one or two practices that appeal to you and commit to stick with them for several months, trusting that God is doing what you cannot do for yourself even if you do not yet see evidence of it. Be patient and remember that change comes over time. Whatever you choose, my prayer is that this year you will let go of striving and invite the deep work of God within you.

What: Introduction to Centering Prayer (Online Group)
When: Every Wednesday, February 17th - March 31, 2021, 5:30 - 6:00 p.m.
Where: Zoom
Sign Up Here: www.prov.church/sign-up (coming soon; or contact me at www.sallysharpe.net)

Years ago, when my girls were around the ages of five and eight, I had a myelogram to determine the cause of ongoing back pain. After the procedure, I developed a spinal fluid leak that caused a spinal headache, which is a debilitating headache that worsens when sitting or standing and improves when lying down. After being upright for just a little while, I would have to lie down again because the pain was so severe. It felt like my head was literally going to explode. Hands down it was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life.

After spending a couple of weeks flat on my back, it was recommended that I have a blood patch in an attempt to block the leak; but the procedure seemed to create even more of an opening, and I wound up worse than before.

I remember lying flat on the couch on Christmas morning as the girls opened their presents, bringing them over to me one at a time for me to see what Santa had brought. Then their grandparents took them to eat Christmas brunch and visit with extended family while Neil stayed with me, watching one Christmas movie after another as we lay in the bed. (And that was quite a sacrifice because several of them were on the Lifetime channel!)

Months went by, and I was able to be up for one and then two and then three hours at a time before having to lie down again. But I had to plan my activity strategically and be prepared to lie down again when the debilitating pain returned, which caused a great deal of anxiety. I didn’t know if I would ever recover and be “normal” again.  Not being able to care for my family and seeing the toll it was taking on Neil was as bad as the physical pain itself.

During this time, I struggled to hope. I memorized and meditated on Romans 12:12 continuously: “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” Though I was managing the last two as best I could, I simply could not be joyful in hope. Hope seemed like empty, wishful thinking to me.

One day Neil came home with a gift—an angel holding a banner that says “Hope.” He knew I was struggling and thought that this visual reminder might help me to set my mind on hope and, in time, allow it to take hold of my heart as well. I remember staring at that angel each day, asking God to give me hope while feeling mostly anxiety, fear, and deep sadness.

Six months later I was still struggling physically and emotionally, but we made plans to go out for dinner to celebrate our anniversary. I rested all day so that I might be able to be upright for several hours. We chose a new restaurant and arranged for a babysitter for the girls. It felt so good to be out doing something so “normal”—something I realized I had taken for granted, like so many other things. It was a very nice evening—until about halfway through the meal. The familiar tightness and throbbing pain began in my lower neck and slowly made its way up the back of my head, increasing in intensity as it progressed. Tears began to stream down my face as I told Neil another headache had begun and we would have to leave. He knew my greatest fear was that I would never get better, but he didn’t know that the underlying fear was that the strain of it all eventually would tear us apart. So I was overcome when he looked me in the eyes and said, “If you never get better, I will always be here. I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

Although the pain continued to increase that evening, I sensed that something significant was happening within me. You see, from that moment on, I knew that whatever happened, we would face it together. I was loved, and I wasn’t alone. Though I had known this before, I needed the reassurance. Neil’s declaration of love and faithfulness assuaged my fear and gave me hope.

In the coming weeks, I began to realize that Neil’s words were much more than a personal declaration. They also were God's loving message to me, communicated through Neil: “I love you, and I am with you. I will never leave you or forsake you.” God used someone with skin on to communicate a message I desperately needed to hear. Now when I starred at the angel with the banner of hope, I realized that hope is not tied to external circumstances but to internal assurances. Hope flows from knowing that whatever might happen, we are loved and never alone. The greatest hope of all is found in God’s faithful love and presence.

As that hope began to take hold of me, my physical healing slowly accelerated. Within two months—praise God—I was pain free.

Of course, physical healing is not a guaranteed outcome of hope or faith. And every relationship does not survive difficult circumstances. Those are not the points I am making. What I want to remind us of, to reassure us of, is that regardless of our circumstances—when the suffering continues, the relationship ends, the outcome looks bleak—our loving, faithful God promises to walk through it with us. We are never alone, and we are always loved—even when we despair and lose all hope. God comes to be with us in our pain and, in time, to restore our hope. And God often sends messengers with skin on to help us know and remember God's faithful love for us. In fact, that is why God came to earth as Emmanuel, which means “God with us”—so that we might know God understands our plight, loves us completely, and enters into our suffering with us. God not only enters our suffering but also redeems it.

I believe this is something we all need to be reassured of this Christmas in particular. Whatever 2020 has brought for you and yours, whatever you have suffered, whatever pain you are now carrying, whatever hopes have been crushed or lost—remember this: you are dearly loved, and you are never alone. Emmanuel knows your circumstances and promises to be with you through them. God can even redeem your suffering. Hold onto that hope. I pray it will take hold of you and bring whatever healing you need this season. May you recognize God’s loving and faithful presence, and may it fill you with the gift of hope!

    This has been one of the most beautiful falls we’ve had in several years—and we’ve certainly needed it, haven’t we? The leaves have been spectacular, displaying their vivid colors against the bright blue autumn sky. One reason it has been especially beautiful to me is that the red-leafed maple trees have seemed more prevalent this year, accenting the mix of yellow- and orange-leafed trees that are more common here in Middle Tennessee. Perhaps there aren’t actually more maple trees than last year, but it’s just their year to show off. And they’re certainly doing a good job of that! In any case, I have truly enjoyed the diversity of colors.
    Diversity makes the world more interesting and beautiful. That’s the appeal of travel—visiting places where the scenery is unique, filling us with awe and wonder in our amazing God. We were made to appreciate, even long for, the creativity and beauty of our diverse world.
    Here’s a question I’ve been pondering this fall as I’ve enjoyed the colorful trees in the midst of so much discord all around us: Why do we so easily embrace the diversity we see in the natural world yet often struggle to embrace the diversity we see in other people? This year, with all that has been going on in our nation and our world, “difference” has seemed to cause more distrust than appreciation, more division than celebration. And it has taken its toll on us—even among family members and friends. All of the arguing and name calling we’ve witnessed—and perhaps participated in at times—has caused many to draw sharp dividing lines, relegating people to camps or “boxes.” Yet the truth is that despite our differences and disagreements, we all are beautiful creations of our amazing God. Regardless of our views on COVID or masks or the election or race relations or any other issue we could name, we all are dearly loved by the creative God who made us.

     God doesn’t love us “if”—if we look or think or act a certain way. God simply loves us. We do nothing to earn God’s love. It is freely extended to us without condition. That is why God’s Son came to earth, so that we could know the extent of God’s love—"how wide, how long, how high, and how deep" it is (Ephesians 3:18 NLT). It is a love that rescues, liberates, and transforms—and it is meant for all. God’s unconditional love doesn’t excuse or overlook hurtful behavior, and there are consequences to our actions; but God never gives up on us. And that’s good news! Regardless of our differences, we have this in common: God never stops pursuing us and inviting us to be transformed and healed by God's love so that we can love each other with that same astonishing love.
     Soon we will be gathering around our tables to give thanks. Though our numbers may be smaller this year and some of us may be joining loved ones via Zoom or FaceTime, we still will have the opportunity to bear witness to the beautiful diversity and creativity of God on display within our very own families and friends. So, here’s my Thanksgiving proposition. As we cook and eat and talk together, let’s redeem 2020 by making space for one another to be seen, known, and loved. Let’s allow each other to be who we are, extending an invitation to freely share our hurts and hopes with one another (if it feels safe to do so). Let’s listen to each other’s thoughts and viewpoints—truly listen—without judgment or ridicule, remembering that our differences do not have to separate us but actually can be like good seasoning, adding variety and spice to our lives. Just think how bland Thanksgiving dinner would be without sage, thyme, rosemary, or pumpkin spice! In the same way, our lives would be dull and boring without the differences of others—even the ones we may find irritating at times.

     That child or teenager who is pushing our buttons? What if we took a breath and remembered that we were their age once too, giving them room to grow and discover who they are?
     That spouse or roommate who is getting under our skin because we’ve been cooped up together for nine months? Just think how much we would miss them—and their idiosyncrasies—if they weren’t a part of our lives anymore.
     That relative or friend who has different political or religious views and can be opinionated? Perhaps it will help to remember that “us” versus “them” constructs are rooted in fear (the fear of what we don’t know, don’t understand, or can’t control), and reacting defensively only closes us off, creating more barriers. But listening without defensiveness opens us to understanding, empathy, and connection (none of which, by the way, requires agreement or assent).
    Here's an important caveat. If you have been abused (whether verbally or physically), deeply hurt, or repeatedly disrespected by someone, setting boundaries is necessary and important for your own well-being. Depending on the situation, that might mean not having contact for a period of time or even deciding that it’s not healthy for that person to be a part of your life. (Meeting with a counselor, pastor, or spiritual director can be helpful as you discern appropriate boundaries.) If you do spend time with an unsafe person who begins to speak or act disrespectfully or cause harm in any way, it’s always appropriate to set a boundary. Sometimes loving others with the love of Christ means saying, “It’s not OK for you to speak to me/treat me that way” and removing yourself from the situation or asking the other person to leave. Embracing differences does not mean allowing others to do harm to yourself or others.

    My prayer for all of us this Thanksgiving, whether we gather in person or connect virtually with loved ones, is that we will keep our focus on the people we love, not the things that threaten to divide us. Let’s be thankful for the unique individuals God has made us to be and look for the things we can affirm in each other—even if it’s only that we recognize the other person’s individuality and passion. Then, as we begin to embrace the diversity of the people in our homes or on our screens, let’s invite God to continue healing and stretching our hearts so that we can appreciate and embrace even more people who are different from us. Whether they live across the street, across town, across the country, or across the globe, may we ask God to enable us to love them with the astonishing, inclusive love of Christ.