pregnancy and the presence of God

Last year when I would get home from work after a busy day running summer camp, Tim would ask me, "Did you feel the baby kicking today?"

I would shrug, feeling the panic settle in as I softly responded, "I don't know."  Then, I would pause and listen quietly, focusing my attention to my womb and wait for the tell-tale pop that reminded me she was still moving, heart beating, legs kicking, arms flailing.

When I wasn't thinking about her, I often didn't feel her move.  When we would hear her heartbeat at the doctor or go to an ultrasound, it felt like I left her in the room when we went home.  It didn't feel like she was present with me once I couldn't hear her heart or see her moving.

I think that I often feel this way about the presence of God.  Just like Lucy was present with me wherever I went for the whole pregnancy, so God has been present with me wherever I go for many years. And when I don't attend to Him, when I'm not listening quietly for Him, focusing my heart, I feel like He's not even here.  There are times, like the ultrasound or hearing the heart beat, that His voice is so clear, or I see His movement in the world.  And it is easy to feel like I left Him in those moments, that He was present then but present no longer.

"And He said, "Go out and stand on the mount before the Lord." And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind.  And after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.  And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.  And after the fire a sound of a low whisper."  1 Kings 19:9-12

I must admit, that just as I was often too busy or mind-gone-crazy to feel my own baby kicking inside me,  I often miss the whisper of God and feel like I'm alone.

It's hard to hear Him when life is loud, and everything is screaming for your attention; from media to people, there are a thousand things to distract us from God.  It's hard to hear Him when depression envelops you, when suffering is sapping your physical and emotional strength, when a good God seems far away from your bad circumstances.  It can even be hard to hear Him when life is good, when you feel happy and content, and the pleasant times distract you from a God that may have a plan to shake up your comfortable life.

So I'm trying to practice being in His presence, by listening for His voice, and watching to see what He's doing in the world.  Similar to my experience being pregnant with Lucy, if I'm not thinking about God, I'm probably missing the signs that He is present.  I'm also trying to listen to the promptings that make me uncomfortable.  Knock on that neighbor's door.  Talk to that family at church.  Email that friend I haven't spoken to for awhile.  Forgive that person that didn't even know they hurt me.  Be more organized with the time and resources He has given me.  Use the gifts that He has given me for His purposes, not bury them or use them for myself.

"We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade, the presence of God.  The world is crowded with Him.  He walks everywhere incognito.  And the incognito is not always easy to penetrate.  The real labor is to remember to attend.  In fact to come awake.  Still more to remain awake."  C.S. Lewis

Sometimes the Holy Spirit tells us to do something big, but most often I think it is the little acts of obedience, the daily dying to ourselves, that pleases God and draws us closer to Him.  Communing with the Lord through prayer and obedience makes me feel so much nearer to the God who is there, present with me, whether I feel it or not.  I want to stay awake to His presence. I want to see Him everywhere.

A couple months after summer camp was over, after hours of difficult labor, I finally held my precious baby in my arms.  The face I had been longing to see for months stared up at me with her big, beautiful blue eyes.  The little girl I longed to know was present with me in a deeper way than ever before.  I could hear her voice, touch her hands and feet, and hold her close.  Everyday I get to know her better as I hear her laugh, hug her, play with her, go for walks, read with her, nap on the couch, and watch her grow.  Each day is filled with her visible, tangible presence.

I find hope in the fact that, while it can be hard to feel the movement and hear the whispers this side of Heaven, there is a day coming where we will see His face.  Just like my pregnancy was for a time with Lucy, so the time distant from the incognito Jesus will end.  We will hug Him, sit with Him, talk with Him, and collapse before Him in adoration because He, the One we have been longing for and waiting for, will be with us forever.  We will rest and laugh in His presence and this waiting, this pregnancy, will seem like a dream in comparison to that glorious reality.

Never forget that when He seems far, when He seems absent, He has promised that He is close.  "Behold, I am with you always, even to the end of the age." Matthew 28:20

longing, heartache, and the north wind

Several years ago, fifteen to be exact, I was a young girl and my family had just moved from Illinois to Southern California.  Many tears were shed in the days leading up to, during, and after that move.  We left our extended family and close friends behind...and at 10 years old I didn't think that I could recover until we moved back.

I clung hard to the memories.  I kept a box of things that reminded me of my best friends from Illinois.  There were letters mailed and phone calls.  There were visits from Grandparents that were always wonderful and always too short.  There were tears shed before bed and dreams that I fought to stay in as I awoke, dreams that had magically transported me back to our old home... which were strange and unlike the real thing, but a part of it nonetheless.

I couldn't understand why God had moved us away, and struggled with that for a long time.

My family moved again, this time to Fresno, California.  Gradually, as we made friends and grew to love the beautiful state we lived in, I became more accustomed to the idea of being there... even as my heart longed to be back with family once again.

By the end of my junior year of high school, our family faced another change.  We were finally moving back to Illinois.  Our stay in California was over.  A wide ranging storm of emotions came over me at that time and felt I would drown in them.  By the time I had really grown to love where we were, it was time to go.  Those years in California, though challenging at times, were full of wonderful memories, a very sweet time in my family's history.  Many lessons learned, many experiences shared.

As I look back at that time, do I wish that none of the changes had happened?  Would it have been easier to have never moved, never have felt the heartache in the first place?  Or to never have moved back from California and stayed there the rest of our lives?

In the past I would have said yes to any of those questions.  "Spare me the pain, please" would have been my response.  But removal of pain isn't always this answer.  Think of the famous quote... "Tis better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all."

I was thinking about a variation of this to fit my experience, "It is better to have lived and missed than to never have lived at all."  Less poetic, but you get the idea.

I think we need to allow ourselves the freedom to miss things and then challenge ourselves to be content if things never return to their former glory.  It doesn't mean that the glory and joy of life have passed away, it has simply changed.  And you will miss the now when it is gone too.

Looking back now I can see God orchestrating all things for good, and I'm so thankful that He is in control.  So many good things would never have happened if I had had my own way and been able to spare myself from pain.

Living to protect ourselves from hurting is a good way to hurt ourselves.  We are going to have heartache and sadness, we are going to miss things and wish for different circumstances no matter where we are.  Why not find a way to love the here and now?

Find a way to live fully.  As Jim Elliot once said, "Wherever you are, be all there."  A simple little quote, but a challenging one indeed.

But what about when the pain is too great?  When the people that we have lost were so dear we look to heaven and like Job wish that we had never seen the light outside our mother's womb?  The deep and abiding missing of things leads me to thoughts of heaven.  To the day that God will wipe away every tear from our eyes.  There will be no more longing, no more aching of separation but peace within the arms of God.

I look forward to heaven knowing that the God who made every good thing here, and there are many good things here despite the fallen nature of our world, has created an eternity that is beautiful and perfect and good.

The God who made the roaring ocean, sunsets streaked with purple clouds, soft velvety puppy ears, chubby baby fingers, blinding lightning, fiery red autumn leaves, musical notes that make us cry, joyful laughter, breathtaking spring wind, and dew covered grass knows how to create a pleasing, magnificent existence.  How much greater will forever be than now?

I just finished reading At the Back of the North Wind by George MacDonald last night.  Early on in the book a little boy named Diamond is befriended by the North Wind.  She takes him on adventures and one day she allows him to visit her back.  At the back of the North Wind there is no suffering or pain, but beauty and glorious music.  Diamond comes back from the North Wind and is always trying to remember the song that he heard sung by the brook.  He hears things on earth that remind him of it, but nothing is quite as beautiful.  You learn that Diamond was very sick while he was at the back of the North Wind, that it was a near death/heaven experience.  He longs to go back, and has no fear of any earthly thing... to the point that people on earth find him silly and think he has a screw loose.

I love that picture and the idea that once you have had a taste of something so beautiful, you won't be afraid anymore.

C.S. Lewis said, "If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world."

Missing things can steal joy from the now we have been given, and distract us from the longing we have for our resurrection.   

I want to find ways to live in the balance, to not live in fear of heartache but to remember, to live fully, and live in expectation of the coming One. 

""Surely I am coming quickly."  Amen.  Even so, come, Lord Jesus!"  Revelation 22:20

welcome home

Recently Tim and I heard the song "Welcome Home" by a band called Radical Face. It was on this crazy video about a guy who broke the world record for speed scaling a mountain- with no ropes. Guts yes, insane... definitely. My sister gave us the song, and I have been wearing it out on the iPod (I think Tim might be a little bit sick of it by now).

When I listened to it the first time I told Tim, "If my life ever has a soundtrack I would like that song to be on it." It is the kind of song that gives me chills, a song that immediately adds meaning and depth to any images that are coupled with it.

If you hear it and don't agree with me, don't worry about it, I have other songs cued up for my soundtrack as well. I'm sure you have songs that give you that feeling too, that feeling that makes your heart swell so big you think it will burst out of your chest.

I have been thinking about this lately and wondering what it means about being a human. Music, movies, books, and art move us emotionally. When they affect us most enjoyably, it is usually because they have made us feel like there is something bigger than the here and now. Like there is something beyond us, something we can be a part of.

I think C.S. Lewis said it well, "It was when I was happiest that I longed most... the sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing... to the find the place where all the beauty came from."

It seems a little crazy that the longing would be beautiful, but it is. Think about the longing of a child for his Christmas presents, the longing of a pregnant mother waiting for her baby, the longing of the betrothed for his love. There is something satisfying in those things even in the absence of what is desired, because those things are wonderful even though they are not fully realized yet.

I think great art taps into that, it reminds of something within us, something that is not fully realized in us or in the world yet. But one day, it will be.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, He has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from beginning to the end." Ecclesiastes 3:11

Our hearts swell with longing, because we were not made for death. We were made for eternity, and beauty reminds us of that. It reminds us that there is something greater, something more beautiful than we know... and our hearts yearn to be one with it. One with God.

Someday, we will be joined with God through Christ at the wedding feast. I have a feeling our hearts will be full, more full than they could ever be in this lifetime when our story of forever with Christ begins. Imagine it. You can't really, it is too beautiful. Long for it. Long for the beauty of Christ, you will be one with Him soon.

"Welcome home my love."

lion of judah

"And one of the elders said to me, "Weep no more; behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that He can open the scroll and its seven seals." Revelation 5:5

I love thinking of Jesus as the Lion of Judah. I think the contrast between Him being the Lamb of God and the Lion of Judah is beautiful. His strength and majesty, contrasted with the humility and sacrifice of His earthly ministry is so different than anything else on earth.

I love how magnificent the Lion is as a symbol. It's strong and powerful, and strikes fear into our hearts. And yet we wish we could be close to it, pet it, caress it. But it is untameable....

No one illustrated this better than C.S. Lewis in the Chronicles of Narnia. He created Aslan, who is all at once feared and loved, strong and gentle. A wonderful picture of Christ.

"Safe?" said Mr. Beaver. "Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."

I like how this describes how I want Jesus to be. I want Him to be "safe." I want to be able to tell Him what I want to do. I want to make Him promise me that I won't get hurt if I do what He asks me to. I want Him to not ask too much of me, just enough so that I will feel good about myself... not so much that I would actually have to give up anything I care about. Safe, tame.

But He isn't.... but He is good. He is the King, from the royal line of David. He can ask me to do anything, no sacrifice would be too much for Him to ask of me. He has already done everything for me.

I don't completely understand what it means that Jesus is the Lion of Judah, but I do love thinking about it.

Lion of Judah. Powerful, strong, and good.