Letters to Arden - July 27, 2010

Dear Arden,

Sometimes in the early morning, when I strip you down and hold you close, you seem to me the newborn again. Soft skin, bright eyes, fuzzy hair. You fit perfectly in my arms, and we snuggle in a shared warmth.
Sometimes I close my eyes and remember the day of your birth, May 17, 2010. You were born at 8:48 am. I don't remember that moment, but you were the last prayer of my heart in the operating room and the first thought on my mind when I woke up. You were so tiny, a gift from God wrapped in your daddy's shirt. Loving strength and warmth were his first gifts to you.
Now I look in your deep blue eyes and see ten weeks of living. They've gone by so fast! But time stands still when we gaze at each other, and I know somehow you have always been part of my heart. And no matter how big, you always will.

~lg

Kingdom Sentry

A raven sits atop the storm-ragged spruce, watching with one gleaming eye turned toward me. She watches through the kitchen window, peering into the mundane events of laundry and email and rinsing blueberries. She watches the seconds tick by as I make my way clockwise around the day. She must hear the baby crying, and laughing, and the songs I sing when no one else is home. She sits, a silent silhouette, a sentry over my thoughts. I leave to go to town, and when I return three hours later she is still there. Black omen or heavenly messenger? She watches, and I imagine I read her mind. The kingdom of God is found in small things. She flies away, blown by a secret wind.

~lg

Letters to Arden - July 11, 2010

Dear Arden,

Be brave, little girl. We will follow Christ. Up the higher ways, mountains too high for us, but He will give us hinds' feet to walk on the heights. We will follow His way. We will learn His steps.

Be brave, little girl. We will love like Christ. And you are already showing me how. He is teaching me through you, and as I learn, I will let the love lessons pass to you. We will wrap love and faithfulness around us, like I have swaddled you, so they will never leave us. He will never leave us.

Be brave, little girl. We may kneel in the thorns of suffering, but love will heal. We may fall on the slippery crags, but love will raise us. We may lose our way in the dark night of the soul, but love will find us. Christ will find us, bind us to Himself.

Be brave, little girl. You are loved. You are Christ's.

~lg

Letters to Arden - July 4, 2010

Dear Arden,

Tomorrow you will be seven weeks old! Seven is the number of perfection, and you are definitely perfect. Everything good about life and existence is bundled into eight or so pounds of you.
It makes me sad and angry to think of the ways we humans degrade and destroy the life, the goodness God gives. I don't want to think that anyone will ever hurt you or take away your innocence. Yet I also know that we are each capable of being masters of our own demise. You may be perfect, but life is also broken, and my heart breaks knowing one day you will wake to pain and suffering.
When God gives us children, I think He gives us a window into His heart. His heart rejoices, breaks, all because of love. And He is the way back to Goodness when life is less than perfect. I have discovered this, and I pray you will find it to be true when you need it to be.
In His goodness, He has also gifted us to bring love into our world. Together with the Spirit, we imagine new ways of living, and loving. There is hope for our world. There is a love that will not disappoint. There is a God who is Good.
His Goodness already shines in your deep blue eyes. I can't wait to see the ways God will love through you. You have already brought so much love into our hearts. He is rejoicing over you, and so am I.
And so, in your tiny seven weeks of perfection, I pray you will know Goodness, that will know our Perfect Father's heart. I pray His heart will become yours, and mine. And I pray I will bring His love into your world.

~lg

Letters to Arden - May 31, 2010

Arden,

You are here! Not the way I expected, but safely, soundly here. Becoming a mother has been baptism by tears. I cried when they told me I wouldn't be awake when you were born. I cried when I first saw your face cradled in daddy's arms. I cried through countless feedings, knowing my pain would keep you growing. I cried rocking you to sleep, because you were too beautiful for words.
And now you are starting to smile! It's a dopey smile of content mostly, right after a feeding, and in those warm moments when you are beginning to wake and haven't realized how hungry you are yet. In your smile I see glimpses of your personality, little peeks of what is to come.
And so I smile for you every day. I try to smile even when I'm in pain, when I'm tired, when I'm overwhelmed by all that is new, all that is you. I want you to see love in my face. I want you to know how happy I am that you are here.


~ lg

Cry No More

Cry no more – spring is here
Autumn’s decay has been put to death
Neath the gentle cold of snow
And the miracle of winter is that
The wasteland of fallen dreams
Now rises strong and sweet in the veins of the trees
Your tears are water for their leaves
Leaves which burst out with a green laugh
The evidence of things unseen


~lg

Easter prayer

Roll away my heart of stone
Bring to life a heart of flesh
Emerging from the grave of pride
The place of my dark selfishness

Surrendered in humility
Spirit, raise me from the dead
Easter life, create in me
A heart reborn, a heart set free


~lg

holy time

Lent.

A time of emptying. A time to wrestle with weakness. A time to uproot, a time to kill.

A time to deny. A time to surrender.

A time to let go.


Good Friday.

A time to abandon all earthly hope, all fleshly striving, and pride's last defenses.

A time to descend into a small dark space and await the quickening light of morning.

The only thing left is the miracle.


~lg

called living

And yet, within our ordinary lives, we hold an extraordinary treasure. We have become part of God’s life, God’s story, God’s work in the world. This weight of glory cannot be taken lightly. We each have a role to play, as individuals and as a community. We are part of a new kingdom, under the lordship of Christ, and we are to pray and work for God’s will to be done on earth as in heaven.

We have each been given gifts with which to fulfill our roles. The trick is knowing what they are and how God wants us to use them. There is no self-help book or personality test that can fully reveal your role in the kingdom. This understanding comes through prayer, contemplation, practice and community. This understanding comes through the supernatural wisdom of the Spirit, wisdom which works itself out day to day as we listen to His voice.

Sometimes we can get caught up in “calling anxiety.” (Guilty as charged.) We wonder what our purpose is, whether we’re fulfilling it, whether we’re doing enough. We compare ourselves to our role models, our peers, constantly measuring ourselves by an artificial standard. We define ourselves by all kinds of standards of “success,” often garnered uncritically from pop-culture, or even pop-Christian culture. We may be losing the discipline of spiritual discernment, especially in the context of a Christian community. And so we worry and wonder, burning spiritual and emotional energy, feeling lost and ineffective.

The answer is less an answer than a process. We must be willing to enter an ongoing conversation with ourselves and the Spirit. We must be willing to take an honest look at the gifts, abilities and inclinations God has given us – including our limitations. When we submit ourselves to the Spirit, we open ourselves up to His limitless creativity. He is the one that fits our roles to our circumstances, that opens doors to new possibilities, that inspires us with new ideas. And we do not work alone. God places us in particular communities where He fits us to accomplish more together, where He gives a common vision. We must learn to listen to His voice together. What is the Spirit saying to you? What is the Spirit saying to the church?

There is no need to worry. Listen, trust, obey. It’s going to look different for everybody.

The fun thing about this is that there are no set rules. Our passions are as varied as our personalities, and God loves to ignite them with his purposes. God is a limitless being, and the possibilities are endless.

So we set out to work in the Father’s kingdom, with the Spirit alongside, living out our Lord’s prayer. It is only in this Trinitarian dynamic that we live fully.


~lg

believe in life

I have a feeling motherhood will produce an ontological change in me.

There are certain things I must believe going into this.


I have to believe in the project of life, in its goodness, its purpose, before I can be entrusted to shape one.
I have to believe that the little acts of love and care matter as much as the grandiose academic and ministerial achievements of my peers.
I have to believe that somehow being part of God's creative and nurturing process is a worthy calling in and of itself, because God loves to create life, loves to love the ones He creates, longs to embrace them and thereby transform them into loving, creative, joyful, thankful marvelous individuals.
I have to believe that I can either invite or reject God's kingdom, Christ's lordship, in my own home and relationships, in the way we raise our children.
I have to believe God loves me as much when I'm changing diapers as when I'm preparing Bible studies, and that diapers are as much his agent of transformation as theological debates.
I have to believe the way we live matters, even when that way seems tedious, or monotonous, or tiring.
I have to believe God is active in the sphere of housework, cooking, playing, talking.
I have to believe he is a present at our table, as at the altar, upon my hearth and in my garden, in observing the days and seasons.
I have to believe life is a gift worth celebrating in small ways through small joys, worth living simply because it is from God, worth living well because it is being renewed in a glorious image.
I have to believe the Spirit speaks and directs me as a mother as much as any minister, that His breath blows in my own backyard.
I have to believe in life.

~lg

Promise of Spring

A poem by Kate McIlhagga of the Iona Community

Pale winter sun,
flooding the earth
with your light,
gilding the bare trees
with your touch.
Your eyes
have seen
the glory
of the Lord.

Low white candles of hope
palely gleaming in the dark earth,
your advent heralds
the promise of Spring;
your green hearts
speak of God’s renewing love.

Son of God, show us the way.
Light our path.
Lead us
through this Lenten desert
to Easter with you
beyond the pain
of loss and fear.
Lead us in new ways
of trusting service.


~

Father of Lights

Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.
James 1:17

This little verse does much to instruct our way of viewing the world and life as we know it. Any misery, any death that we experience in this life does not originate in God. It originates in our willful turning, our shady attempts at self-preservation – in short, our sin – which have so permeated earthly existence. The darkness of our rebellion is lurking around every corner. Adam’s shadow falls long in our fields. Do not be mistaken; God has not brought this.

God is the originator of good, grace-full giving, of every perfection placed into our hands. Where the light shines, it is His . . . it is Him. He cannot be other than Goodness; He cannot be other than Light. There is no shadow of turning with Thee. And He continues to share His brightness with us – in the steady sunrise, in shared laughter, in the majesty of the soaring eagle, in the miracle of birth, in the rainbow that drips with liquid life. He pours His faithful Light into us, throwing open the shutters over our souls so that it may even shine out of us.

We do not live in sunlight at every moment. There is a day yet to come when darkness will be extinguished forever. But we are signs and flares in the sky that new creation has begun, that Goodness and Love are the true realities.

With this in mind, we welcome every good thing as a beam of our Father’s nature. And life is full of good and perfect things. Green grass, snowy nights, evening fires, morning glories. They are not mundane. They are not meaningless. They are opportunities to recognize the Author and Perfector of life, to stretch out our arms to a steady heaven in childlike thanksgiving. He is here in our daily rhythms, our rising and lying down, our work and play, our families and friends. Open your eyes to the Father of Lights.

~lg

life is love

At its core, life has to do with love.

The creative love of God, which fashioned us out of dust and gave us breath. The redemptive love of God, which plunged into our icy depths and brought us up from the grave. The transformative love of God, which fashions us into a new image.

Through Christ we are joined to the life of God, and God is love.

Love is our ultimate good. To love God with all that we are, this is the sunnum bonum of our existence. To love those God has placed around us, this is the natural extension of our first love.

Love is the highest virtue, the basis from which all good things flow. It is poured into our hearts from above, a supernatural infusion of the Spirit, the fertile ground for godly fruit. Without love we are nothing.

Love is concrete, embodied. It must take form at our kitchen tables, in our families. We cannot choose those whom we love, nor do we love “everybody” in some vague general feeling of goodwill. We must love the child in our arms, the neighbour next door, the person in the pew in front of us, the coworker who talks behind our backs.

As we love, we are transformed and we become agents of transformation. As we live in love, we live God’s way. God’s way lives among us.

~lg

why life?

As a baby bumbles around my belly, I am left to wonder . . .

Why has God given us life? Why has he asked us to be fruitful and multiply? What is the point of our life on earth?

His original intent, now shrouded by a veil of sin, lies in the early chapters of our human history. Created in his image, created to be blessed. Created to bring more life into the world, to fill the world, to subdue and have dominion over it. Created to till and tend the earth, to continue the cultivation of God’s own garden. Created to recognize breath and food and water as his gifts, to receive the earth’s nourishment with thanksgiving. Created to explore and name the world around us. Created as male and female, to be together, to help each other. Created to converse with the Creator, to choose to trust and obey. Created without shame.

God created a good and beautiful world, breathing into us good and beautiful life. And then he endowed us with the ability to create, to share in his image and work. We tend and tame the natural life placed around us. We create more human life. God must love life, the abundant diversity of living and growing things. He passes this love to us, this capacity, this gift. In a sense, our purpose is simply to live, to breathe. And we are to do it together.

But, of course, things have become far more complicated. We may never know the sort of life our primal parents may have lived had the serpent’s temptation been disregarded. What would God’s ideal family and society have looked like in the peace of the eternal garden? We are left to pick up the pieces of a shattered world, a tattered image.

But we have not been left alone. The ultimate question – why life at all? – is and must now be answered in Christ. He came to show us the way. Just as we look at Adam to define our origins and original purpose, as well as the consequences of turning away from our Creator, we look at Christ as the Second Adam to define what our new life and renewed image looks like. In Christ we are not simply going back to Eden. He is not only a remedy; in Him life takes on a new dynamic. The incarnation really has changed everything. Our Edenic mandate is still valid, but it is also elevated. We are moving forward as members of a new creation, a new covenant, a new purpose, all in Christ.

So as I think of becoming a mother, of sharing somehow in God’s creative and nurturing work, I wonder how my life will change. I wonder how my purpose as a human in Christ will be fulfilled in this new role. I wonder what God’s intent for my child, my family, my home is. When life is “reduced” to caring for another tiny image bearer, what will matter most? When I look into the eyes of my new son or daughter, what will I see? How will I see God?

~lg

The God of Zephaniah

Some of God’s words are not pleasant to read. Zephaniah opens with a deluge of His fiery wrath against man and beast alike. In what can seem a heartless tirade, I remind myself to pause and think – why is He so angry? Who is this God?

Chapter One. God is angry because the spiritual leaders have idolatrous hearts, leading the people astray. He is angry because they are confusing the Creator with the created. The people’s loyalties are divided, turning worship into a pack of hypocritical lies and filling the temple with violence and deceit. They have neither sought Yahweh, nor inquired of him. And then, an interesting judgment – they are stagnant in spirit. In their hearts they say, “The LORD will not do good or evil.” He no longer has any bearing on their reality. And so God will judge his people.

Chapter Two. God’s anger is also directed at Judah’s enemies. For all their idolatry, Judah is still his people, and he rises to their defense. He is angry at the arrogance of the nations. They do not know God has allowed them to taunt and terrorize Judah. They sit securely in their cities, exultant in what is to a be short lived victory. In their hearts they say, “I am, and there is no one besides me.” And so God will prove himself terrifying, starving their gods until they recognize just who they are dealing with.

And yet a glimmer of hope shines through the lines of fury, hope for both Judah and the nations. To Judah he promises a remnant, safety in the caves of the coast, a restored fortune. To the nations he holds out a promise for the humble – seek the LORD, seek righteousness, seek humility, and God will provide a hiding place from his anger.

Chapter Three. God’s heart is revealed in His broken, urgent oracle. What does he desire? Heed my voice, accept my instruction, trust in me, draw near to me. Princes, judges, prophets, priests – all propagate idolatry and injustice. But the LORD will bring His justice to light in the morning, exposing shame. Just wait. God will rise up as Judge. He will assemble nations and kingdoms and pass out a cup of burning indignation. All the earth will be devoured by the fire of his zeal.

All the earth? Devoured by fire? What kind of God is this?
But his zeal is the full power of his jealous love. This devouring is not the end.

“For then I will give to the people purified lips,
That all of them may call on the name of the LORD,
To serve Him shoulder to shoulder.”

Both shame and pride will disappear in the flame. In their place, a humble and purified remnant, not left to grovel, but to rejoice without fear. Yahweh your King is in your midst; Yahweh your God is in your midst. His anger turns to a song of joy, sung over his people. The song can be heard not only in Judah and Israel, but in the ears of all those who seek him. In the safety of home, his joyful shouts mellow into a lullaby of quieting love. This is your God.


And so at the end of the book, I am left to wonder - what it is that I say in my heart about God? The words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart cannot please him without his purification. Even the ability to call on his name is a gift, wrought of fiery love. I will trust and draw near to the God of Zephaniah.

~lg