For the past several years, I’ve had this distinct fear that I’m losing my mind. Not that I’m going crazy, but that I’m losing my capacity for cognitive processing and memory retention. It is reasonable that changes in my mental performance could be due to age and stress, in addition to the several head injuries I’ve sustained over the years. However, I recently read a series of articles in Newsweek that really opened my eyes into a new possibility.
Researchers are discovering the unique, and highly linked, relationship between aerobic exercise and the brain. Discoveries have shown us that as little as 30 minutes of aerobic exercise, three times a week, helps the brain create new neurons and develop stronger neurotransmitters. In addition, exercise increases several key chemicals, including brain-derived neurotrophic factor or BDNF.
What does all this mean? In addition to helping us control our weight and reduce stress, aerobic exercise can actually increase memory capacity, speed of information processing, control ADHD, and stave off Alzheimers. Researchers are saying a person who begins exercising at any point in their life, will begin to see results in several weeks. The key is to maintain exercising, as these effects require consistent support.
The interesting element is evidence that indicates that children who are exposed to exercise develop long-term effects of brain power. As their minds are young and supple, the increased neurons and neurotransmitters have a lasting effect that will stay with them for years.
So, maybe I have lost brain power as compared to my brilliant youth. But there is something I can do about it.
For more info check out: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/17662246/site/newsweek/
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
A call to return
This weekend, I spent some time in San Francisco with some amazing people; all uniquely gifted and minded, yet joined in their search for authentic relationships with Christ. It was thrilling and refreshing, to say the least, to be surrounded by people who seem to feel the same heartbeat as I: hungry for pure God, tired of religiosity, and desperate for an intimate touch from the Creator.
In the past year, I keep hearing the same words whispered in back corners of cafés, hashed over kitchen tables, and screaming through silent emails. People are frustrated with traditional, don’t ask questions, tow the party line, this is the way it has always been done, beliefs. There is a cry to live honest truth, to experience a 21st century gospel, through the bare naked scripture of Christ’s day.
It’s not quite a revolution. Somewhat a reformission. Certainly, a call to return.
In the past year, I keep hearing the same words whispered in back corners of cafés, hashed over kitchen tables, and screaming through silent emails. People are frustrated with traditional, don’t ask questions, tow the party line, this is the way it has always been done, beliefs. There is a cry to live honest truth, to experience a 21st century gospel, through the bare naked scripture of Christ’s day.
It’s not quite a revolution. Somewhat a reformission. Certainly, a call to return.
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
To do or to be? That is the question.
Last week I caught myself completing my yearly routine of searching for the ultimate calendar/organizer. After years of going back and forth between full-size, half-size, weekly, monthly, daily, and plain notebook formats, I wound my way back to the simple Planner Pad that has become my fallback for the past several years.
The problem is that I love to organize my life, but I hate being organized. While I desperately need order and structure, too much detail throws me into a tailspin and I run wildly in the reverse direction. To find a balance between my anal-retentive self and my free-flowing self, I find a minor source of relief in the Planner Pads.
According to these calendars, you have the ability to structure your life into categories of tasks and duties. I’ve chosen the following six: Spirit (my walk with God), Passion (my love of writing), Self (my personal needs), Connect (my social needs), Home (my residence needs), and Journey (my church needs). For several years, I’ve created plans, scheduled tasks, and longingly searched for items to cross off of my endless lists. But, still I find myself lacking.
Lately, I’ve begun to realize that my need for the perfect calendar is driven by my desire of What-I-Want-To-Do. While this seems to be obvious, I’m learning that what I truly long for is a quest into Who-I-Want-To-Be. While tasks and duties will always abound, my focus must become more relative toward inner change, rather than outer maintenance.
This concept has the potential to completely change the way I structure my days and my life. I want to be defined by who I am, not what I do. I want to be known for the character that I possess, not the accomplishments I’ve made. I want to be remembered for my inner strength, identity, and resolve, not that I never missed an appointment.
So, what does this do to my calendar? I don’t know. Will I change my category titles? Probably not. But I will definitely begin to redesign the eternal lists that I use to define myself and my quest for productive, effective days.
The problem is that I love to organize my life, but I hate being organized. While I desperately need order and structure, too much detail throws me into a tailspin and I run wildly in the reverse direction. To find a balance between my anal-retentive self and my free-flowing self, I find a minor source of relief in the Planner Pads.
According to these calendars, you have the ability to structure your life into categories of tasks and duties. I’ve chosen the following six: Spirit (my walk with God), Passion (my love of writing), Self (my personal needs), Connect (my social needs), Home (my residence needs), and Journey (my church needs). For several years, I’ve created plans, scheduled tasks, and longingly searched for items to cross off of my endless lists. But, still I find myself lacking.
Lately, I’ve begun to realize that my need for the perfect calendar is driven by my desire of What-I-Want-To-Do. While this seems to be obvious, I’m learning that what I truly long for is a quest into Who-I-Want-To-Be. While tasks and duties will always abound, my focus must become more relative toward inner change, rather than outer maintenance.
This concept has the potential to completely change the way I structure my days and my life. I want to be defined by who I am, not what I do. I want to be known for the character that I possess, not the accomplishments I’ve made. I want to be remembered for my inner strength, identity, and resolve, not that I never missed an appointment.
So, what does this do to my calendar? I don’t know. Will I change my category titles? Probably not. But I will definitely begin to redesign the eternal lists that I use to define myself and my quest for productive, effective days.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Quote of the Week: Mark Driscoll
What do you see as the greatest challenge for young Christians in the next 10 years?
"There is a strong drift toward the hard theological left. Some emergent types [want] to recast Jesus as a limp-wrist hippie in a dress with a lot of product in His hair, who drank decaf and made pithy Zen statements about life while shopping for the perfect pair of shoes.
In Revelation, Jesus is a pride fighter with a tattoo down His leg, a sword in His hand and a commitment to make someone bleed. That is a guy I can worship. I cannot worship the hippie, diaper, halo Christ because I cannot worship a guy I can beat up.
I fear some are becoming more cultural than Christian, and without a big Jesus who has authority and hates sin as revealed in the Bible, we will have less and less Christians and more and more confused, spiritually self-righteous blogger critics of Christianity." - Mark Driscoll
Excerpt from 7 Big Questions, Relevant Magazine, Jan 2007
"There is a strong drift toward the hard theological left. Some emergent types [want] to recast Jesus as a limp-wrist hippie in a dress with a lot of product in His hair, who drank decaf and made pithy Zen statements about life while shopping for the perfect pair of shoes.
In Revelation, Jesus is a pride fighter with a tattoo down His leg, a sword in His hand and a commitment to make someone bleed. That is a guy I can worship. I cannot worship the hippie, diaper, halo Christ because I cannot worship a guy I can beat up.
I fear some are becoming more cultural than Christian, and without a big Jesus who has authority and hates sin as revealed in the Bible, we will have less and less Christians and more and more confused, spiritually self-righteous blogger critics of Christianity." - Mark Driscoll
Excerpt from 7 Big Questions, Relevant Magazine, Jan 2007
Following the light
For the past few weeks… several months… year and a half, I’ve hated getting up for work every morning. The people are okay, but I feel as though I’m mindlessly spinning my wheels while my real life is out there, somewhere, waiting for me.
Finally, I’d had enough. So after several weeks of praying seriously about the matter, I began to feel some peace, I recognized the next few steps that I needed to take to get to my dreams and I began seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
Last night I went to bed earlier than normal, around eight o’clock, slept sound, and for the first time in a long time, I woke up bright and early this morning: excited and ready to plunge myself into my work.
As Toby was driving me into work, on this chilly morning, I felt anticipation as I mentally organized my day into areas of progress. And then it hit me. Literally. Flying in from the right was a speeding truck, flashing through a stop sign and ramming our vehicle just past the passenger’s door. As our suburban began spinning across four lanes and finally wedged itself into the sidewalk across the street, I thought… Is this a joke? Where are the cameras? The one day I am positive about going to work and we get hit by a truck?
At this point, I’d like to wax philosophical and ask questions like: How often do we think we have finally begun to “get it together” and something totally unexpected throws us completely off track? But the truth of the matter is, I’m just tired, sore, and confused.
Was it a sign that I should continue to gaze longingly out the window of my office, wishing I were elsewhere? Does it mean that I need to be happy with where I am? Or could it be simply that there was a lot of ice and the other driver was speeding?
I still believe that my real life is waiting for me. And I believe that I’m in the process of finding my way there. Perhaps this is just a detour or a opportunity to slow down and pack a few extra bags. Either way, I’m going to realign myself, get back on the road and keep traveling forward. If I look closely, I believe I can still see the light.
Finally, I’d had enough. So after several weeks of praying seriously about the matter, I began to feel some peace, I recognized the next few steps that I needed to take to get to my dreams and I began seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
Last night I went to bed earlier than normal, around eight o’clock, slept sound, and for the first time in a long time, I woke up bright and early this morning: excited and ready to plunge myself into my work.
As Toby was driving me into work, on this chilly morning, I felt anticipation as I mentally organized my day into areas of progress. And then it hit me. Literally. Flying in from the right was a speeding truck, flashing through a stop sign and ramming our vehicle just past the passenger’s door. As our suburban began spinning across four lanes and finally wedged itself into the sidewalk across the street, I thought… Is this a joke? Where are the cameras? The one day I am positive about going to work and we get hit by a truck?
At this point, I’d like to wax philosophical and ask questions like: How often do we think we have finally begun to “get it together” and something totally unexpected throws us completely off track? But the truth of the matter is, I’m just tired, sore, and confused.
Was it a sign that I should continue to gaze longingly out the window of my office, wishing I were elsewhere? Does it mean that I need to be happy with where I am? Or could it be simply that there was a lot of ice and the other driver was speeding?
I still believe that my real life is waiting for me. And I believe that I’m in the process of finding my way there. Perhaps this is just a detour or a opportunity to slow down and pack a few extra bags. Either way, I’m going to realign myself, get back on the road and keep traveling forward. If I look closely, I believe I can still see the light.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Getting to know me
As always, with the New Year come the ever ambitious resolutions; hopes for a new leaf, dreams of an instant transformation, and quests for improved lifestyles. In keeping with the traditional optimism, I’ve carefully created my ample list of promises, narrowed them down with the fine comb of reality, and settled on a few changes that have the potential to change my world.
The first resolution I’ve determined is simply a renewal of a vow that I’ve taken every year. It is the direct result of my deep hunger to know God in the intimate, honest way that he desires to communicate with his people. I want to seek him more through study of the words that he breathed just for mankind. I want to see him through the inspiring beauty of nature and the exploring venue of art. I want to touch him as I walk through life with people of all types and backgrounds, recognizing that they were all created in his unique image. And I want to know him through daily talks about the magnitude of life, challenges, hopes, and dreams, and the mundane chatter of observations, ponderings, and chitchat.
The second resolution is an attempt to change my physical lifestyle: I plan to continue improving my eating habits and setting aside more time for my workouts. Several months ago, I began reading “Healthy Weight for Every Body – Mayo Clinic”. The book is amazing and is extremely easy to follow. It is not a diet plan, rather a guide to eating nutritionally balanced meals and learning exercise routines to benefit your body type and lifestyle goals. As I can stand to lose a couple of pounds, I’ve tried to follow the guide as well as possible and plan to do this even more so in 2007. In addition, I’ve set several physical goals for myself, including… running the Women’s Marathon in June in support of the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. I know that my future is predicated upon having a healthy body to live out my dreams and I plan to do what I can ensure that I can live a full, healthy life.
The third resolution is by far going to be the toughest one for me. This year, I plan to become a more transparent person. Sounds quite simple, but for Ellen Stevens this is a personality death sentence. All of my life I’ve been an excellent wall builder. I’ve maintained a strong façade and carefully protected people from having to know my problems, challenges, and dreams. And I’m very tired of this.
I began this Blog last year in an attempt to communicate myself to whomever. However, in the fall of last year, my writings grew few. Why? Because my life became filled with burdensome events and I didn’t feel safe enough to reveal them, and as I’m not a great chitchat kind of gal, I didn’t feel like I could write anything at all. Enough is enough. From here on out, I want to be open about who I am, and when it is appropriate, share my inner thoughts. I want live a life of integrity and that includes being honest about the goings-on in my world.
I will share my frustration with infertility, my pain over burying a child, my fears of cancer, my disappointment over empty friendships, my disgust for shallow people, my love for nature, my quest for passion, my angst for my dreadful job, my confusions in scripture, my hopes for a blessed church, and my dreams of being a writer. While doing this, I will not worry about what you think of me. I will not stress about what my parents might feel when I reveal who I am. I will not wonder what will happen to my husband when I explore my questions about God – although he tells me to explore on and not dwell on the ripples.
While this transformation is grand with intent, I know that this will take the pain of time. Even so, I will be transparent. I will be honest. I will live with integrity. I will be free.
I will finally get to know, and learn to share… me.
The first resolution I’ve determined is simply a renewal of a vow that I’ve taken every year. It is the direct result of my deep hunger to know God in the intimate, honest way that he desires to communicate with his people. I want to seek him more through study of the words that he breathed just for mankind. I want to see him through the inspiring beauty of nature and the exploring venue of art. I want to touch him as I walk through life with people of all types and backgrounds, recognizing that they were all created in his unique image. And I want to know him through daily talks about the magnitude of life, challenges, hopes, and dreams, and the mundane chatter of observations, ponderings, and chitchat.
The second resolution is an attempt to change my physical lifestyle: I plan to continue improving my eating habits and setting aside more time for my workouts. Several months ago, I began reading “Healthy Weight for Every Body – Mayo Clinic”. The book is amazing and is extremely easy to follow. It is not a diet plan, rather a guide to eating nutritionally balanced meals and learning exercise routines to benefit your body type and lifestyle goals. As I can stand to lose a couple of pounds, I’ve tried to follow the guide as well as possible and plan to do this even more so in 2007. In addition, I’ve set several physical goals for myself, including… running the Women’s Marathon in June in support of the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. I know that my future is predicated upon having a healthy body to live out my dreams and I plan to do what I can ensure that I can live a full, healthy life.
The third resolution is by far going to be the toughest one for me. This year, I plan to become a more transparent person. Sounds quite simple, but for Ellen Stevens this is a personality death sentence. All of my life I’ve been an excellent wall builder. I’ve maintained a strong façade and carefully protected people from having to know my problems, challenges, and dreams. And I’m very tired of this.
I began this Blog last year in an attempt to communicate myself to whomever. However, in the fall of last year, my writings grew few. Why? Because my life became filled with burdensome events and I didn’t feel safe enough to reveal them, and as I’m not a great chitchat kind of gal, I didn’t feel like I could write anything at all. Enough is enough. From here on out, I want to be open about who I am, and when it is appropriate, share my inner thoughts. I want live a life of integrity and that includes being honest about the goings-on in my world.
I will share my frustration with infertility, my pain over burying a child, my fears of cancer, my disappointment over empty friendships, my disgust for shallow people, my love for nature, my quest for passion, my angst for my dreadful job, my confusions in scripture, my hopes for a blessed church, and my dreams of being a writer. While doing this, I will not worry about what you think of me. I will not stress about what my parents might feel when I reveal who I am. I will not wonder what will happen to my husband when I explore my questions about God – although he tells me to explore on and not dwell on the ripples.
While this transformation is grand with intent, I know that this will take the pain of time. Even so, I will be transparent. I will be honest. I will live with integrity. I will be free.
I will finally get to know, and learn to share… me.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Turbulent Peace
Turbulent Peace. It’s a term I made up several years ago to describe a state of being in which I’ve frequently found myself. It’s a time when the circumstances and events externally surrounding a life are a tumultuous cacophony of turmoil; yet internally a deep sense of peace silently reigns.
My mother is a fount of great wisdom. Although we don’t always see eye-to-eye, and we have varied beliefs and opinions, there is one area in which she has made an amazing impact on the way I live. Whenever I’ve found myself at a convergence of two paths, racking my brain to determine which way to go, she has guided me to always follow peace: in the midst of decisions, in the middle of conflict and turmoil, while choosing between two evils, or two seemingly wise options, to always follow peace.
Scripture tells us that God is not the author of confusion; rather he is the Prince of Peace. When we find our world swirling around us, we can identify his direction and guidance by looking for that peace. It’s not necessarily the most obvious or logical choice, often it is the complete opposite, but we can recognize the path God would lead us to take by the sense of calm that accompanies it.
As I was talking this past week with a few of the people in our church, I saw the whirlwinds in their lives. The hurricane force winds and storms were circling around and every path seemed like a course of imminent destruction. But as we began to seek God’s direction, we felt a warm sense of calm begin to wash over us and we knew that God was there in the midst of our chaotic, uncertain world. It was his peace that goes beyond all of our human understanding.
Once again, it was a reminder that when we find ourselves swallowed up in a tornado of life and we’re warily looking out our windows watching pieces of our life swirl around us, we can find God in the middle of our storm. If we ask, we will always find his peace… sometimes turbulent peace.
My mother is a fount of great wisdom. Although we don’t always see eye-to-eye, and we have varied beliefs and opinions, there is one area in which she has made an amazing impact on the way I live. Whenever I’ve found myself at a convergence of two paths, racking my brain to determine which way to go, she has guided me to always follow peace: in the midst of decisions, in the middle of conflict and turmoil, while choosing between two evils, or two seemingly wise options, to always follow peace.
Scripture tells us that God is not the author of confusion; rather he is the Prince of Peace. When we find our world swirling around us, we can identify his direction and guidance by looking for that peace. It’s not necessarily the most obvious or logical choice, often it is the complete opposite, but we can recognize the path God would lead us to take by the sense of calm that accompanies it.
As I was talking this past week with a few of the people in our church, I saw the whirlwinds in their lives. The hurricane force winds and storms were circling around and every path seemed like a course of imminent destruction. But as we began to seek God’s direction, we felt a warm sense of calm begin to wash over us and we knew that God was there in the midst of our chaotic, uncertain world. It was his peace that goes beyond all of our human understanding.
Once again, it was a reminder that when we find ourselves swallowed up in a tornado of life and we’re warily looking out our windows watching pieces of our life swirl around us, we can find God in the middle of our storm. If we ask, we will always find his peace… sometimes turbulent peace.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Iqaluit, Nunavut: A land of beauty and mystery
Yesterday I completed my monthly ritual of looking up online statistics to verify that my blog was up and running consistently. As I was whipping through the stats of people who had visited my site, I came across a location that caught me off guard: Iqaluit, Nunavut.
Realizing that this visitor was from the remote regions of the far north in Canada, I was excited and thrilled. I’ve had people from all over the world trip onto my site: from Europe, Africa, and South America. But this was the first time I’d found someone who was from one of the small, coastal communities of the North Atlantic Sea.
As a person with a strange love for, and interest in, Arctic villages, I want to say a special welcome to you – whoever you are. Being an Alaskan myself (with a latitude quite close to your own), I can only image that your region is beautiful, your climate extreme, and your people warm in the coldest of nights.
I hope you drop by again, for I’m certain there is much we could learn and share about each other’s worlds.
Realizing that this visitor was from the remote regions of the far north in Canada, I was excited and thrilled. I’ve had people from all over the world trip onto my site: from Europe, Africa, and South America. But this was the first time I’d found someone who was from one of the small, coastal communities of the North Atlantic Sea.
As a person with a strange love for, and interest in, Arctic villages, I want to say a special welcome to you – whoever you are. Being an Alaskan myself (with a latitude quite close to your own), I can only image that your region is beautiful, your climate extreme, and your people warm in the coldest of nights.
I hope you drop by again, for I’m certain there is much we could learn and share about each other’s worlds.
Monday, October 02, 2006
End of the Spear
Over the past week, I’ve felt an increased awareness of God’s stirring, guiding me into a new and welcome direction. While I’ve felt his pull before, as he always seems to do, this time seems brand new. I’ve prayed and fasted, studied and cried for an awakening, and I believe he’s beginning to answer my call.
All week long my mind has been captured with thoughts that lead me far beyond my present life: I’ve received a new burden for people I tolerated, a deeper vision for the supernatural and fresh hunger for the word of God. My drive is not predicated upon what God can do through me or for me, nor am I motivated by its prerequisite for revival. Rather, I’m simply desperate to know Him. And as I continue moving forward with his tugs on my heart, I’m praying that this awakening will revive my previous understanding of who God is and will develop into an overwhelming passion for Him and those around me.
In an amazing culmination of my inner whirlwind, this past weekend I watched one of the best movies I’ve seen in years. It was the true story of a group of missionaries to the Waodani people of the Amazon River. In a beautiful, heart-enthralling weave, End of the Spear, tells a story of savage violence, anger, fear, loss, forgiveness, and redemption, all through the eyes of the young son of a missionary pilot.
As the story unveiled, I began to question my own attempts at being a missionary to the people around me. While I’ve never had anyone hold a machete to my throat or threaten a thrusted spear in my gut, I’ve too faced challenges, fears, and questions, albeit respectively minor. However, I don’t know that I have the passion or calling that these missionaries inevitably shared. I think there was a time when I would have sacrificed all, but sadly, there’s been a waning of my vision, enthusiasm, and conviction.
For years I’ve wanted desperately to move to foreign lands to share life, health, and education with people around the world. However, this week, God has given me a new vision for the people in my own community: for Lorenzo, the neighbor boy who rakes my leaves, for my Wiccan friend, to whom I’m teaching a Bible Study, for the Inupiat people in my region, who face challenges of FAS, Alcoholism, and Depression.
While I’m not heading to the Amazon, I pray that this new passion can redirect the mighty rivers of God’s spirit in me, to bring life to the people along my banks.
(For those interested in this amazing film, please see: www.endofthespear.com)
All week long my mind has been captured with thoughts that lead me far beyond my present life: I’ve received a new burden for people I tolerated, a deeper vision for the supernatural and fresh hunger for the word of God. My drive is not predicated upon what God can do through me or for me, nor am I motivated by its prerequisite for revival. Rather, I’m simply desperate to know Him. And as I continue moving forward with his tugs on my heart, I’m praying that this awakening will revive my previous understanding of who God is and will develop into an overwhelming passion for Him and those around me.
In an amazing culmination of my inner whirlwind, this past weekend I watched one of the best movies I’ve seen in years. It was the true story of a group of missionaries to the Waodani people of the Amazon River. In a beautiful, heart-enthralling weave, End of the Spear, tells a story of savage violence, anger, fear, loss, forgiveness, and redemption, all through the eyes of the young son of a missionary pilot.
As the story unveiled, I began to question my own attempts at being a missionary to the people around me. While I’ve never had anyone hold a machete to my throat or threaten a thrusted spear in my gut, I’ve too faced challenges, fears, and questions, albeit respectively minor. However, I don’t know that I have the passion or calling that these missionaries inevitably shared. I think there was a time when I would have sacrificed all, but sadly, there’s been a waning of my vision, enthusiasm, and conviction.
For years I’ve wanted desperately to move to foreign lands to share life, health, and education with people around the world. However, this week, God has given me a new vision for the people in my own community: for Lorenzo, the neighbor boy who rakes my leaves, for my Wiccan friend, to whom I’m teaching a Bible Study, for the Inupiat people in my region, who face challenges of FAS, Alcoholism, and Depression.
While I’m not heading to the Amazon, I pray that this new passion can redirect the mighty rivers of God’s spirit in me, to bring life to the people along my banks.
(For those interested in this amazing film, please see: www.endofthespear.com)
Friday, September 29, 2006
Passing The Mantle
I’m not one to really enjoy church conferences. I’m not into the hype or the fancy clothes; I really don’t care where people bought their new shoes or how much they paid for them. I don’t like sitting in a service, trying to listen and take notes from a preacher, while my thoughts get swallowed up in groupthink of hollered “Amen!”, “Hallelujah!”. I just want to yell at people and shout, “Keep it down, already! I’m trying to listen!” My idea of a perfect conference is one where we can avoid the chitchat, fully digest great teaching, and feel comfortable enough to truly, sincerely pray. But maybe that’s just lofty dreaming.
Yesterday, however, I finally found my conference niche.
I felt heavily led to listen to the “Passing The Mantle” service being held in Ohio at the annual Pentecostal conference. So, since I live in Alaska, I took the morning off of work, got up at 5:30AM, logged onto the live service online, and sat down in front of my stone fireplace to listen to the preaching in my pajamas. Ahhhh…. Now that’s the way to worship!
For those who were unable to watch, here’s a synopsis of the service:
The service began with several worship choruses sung by a group of young women, and then the congregation was lead in focused prayer by three Prayer Leaders. First, Elizabeth Shivers led us to recognize and pray for the hurting people around us, showing that we often see the physical wounds in people, but fail to pick up on the internal, spiritual, and emotional scars. Brooke Pamer led in focused prayer for the U.S. President and a call for a revival of righteousness in God’s people. And finally, Kim Haney spoke on the power of a hungry spirit and prayed for a deeper hunger of desperation to be placed on us all.
Beth Dillon then shared an exegesis on II Kings 2, by providing an acronym for “mantle”.
M – Ministry of a mentor
A – Apostolic authority and greater anointing
N – New dimension
T – Test of faith
L – Committed lifestyle
E – Entrustment: handing over the mantle.
Next, several amazing women were recognized for their leadership and pioneer spirit in the work of God. Nona Freeman, Else Lund, and Eunilah Mean were all ordained ministers during their day, ministering as pastors and missionaries around the world. In addition, Vesta Mangun, Jean Urshan, Sis. Chambers and others were acknowledged.
Finally, Joy Haney spoke to the women on “Your Daughters Shall Prophesy” taken from the book of Joel. She stated that there is an obligation and privilege to pass on the mantle of truth, noting that this does not mean the older generation was relinquishing their mantle, just sharing and enlarging it.
She began by identifying several mantles that people needed to pick up: Sacrifice, faith, prayer, fasting, love, hunger, and character.
While reading the story of Elijah and Elisha, she noted three places that God sent Elijah. 1) Bethel – House of God: This is the place where there was an encounter with the supernatural; a place of prayer. 2) Jericho – Fragrant: This word refers to the sweet savor of the spirit and is connected with sacrifice (Leviticus). She noted that we are to be a sweet smelling fragrance to God (Romans 12:1). 3) Jordan – Flowing down: This indicates the river flowing down from heaven. Jordan is also a place of the supernatural. However, we cannot enter into that place without faith – and faith comes by the Word of God. She emphasized that we need to develop a hunger to devour the Word of God.
She then began to reiterate that many are needed to take up the mantle of sacrifice. When we pray and fast, seeking the supernatural, we will see the power of God come forth. (Acts 4:31 – Boldness & power from prayer). Wherever we are, God will bring people to him through us, if we begin to boldly seek his face for revival. She then began to share stories of the miraculous works that God has done through women of prayer. T. W. Barnes was quoted as saying, “If we want what God wants, we must get back to old fashioned prayer and fasting.”
Declaring the need, she concluded by saying that we need to lay on the altar of sacrifice and tell God, “Whatever you require…”, and prophesied saying that if the younger generation would grasp hold of the mantle of prayer, fasting, and studying God’s work, He would pour out His spirit like never before.
At this point, she asked the younger women to take the following six vows:
1) This day, I will accept the challenge of the Spirit.
2) I will give myself to daily prayer and study of the Word of God.
3) I will establish times of fasting and fervent prayer in my life.
4) I will surrender my body as a living sacrifice to God.
5) I will commit myself to purity, holiness, and Godly character.
6) I will fulfill the great commission.
Finally, the older women gathered around the younger women and placed a symbolic mantle over their shoulders and began to pray that the mantle that God would choose for them, would be represented.
As I sat there on my living room floor, I grabbed the blanket off of the couch and wrapped it around my head and torso. Tears poured out of me as I plead for God’s leading in my life. There were no women praying for me, no woman to share her mantle with me, but I think that was just the way I needed it. Were I in the congregation, I might have wished the woman praying for me were someone I knew was a great warrior in the spirit, or a pioneer in adventurous faith. However, in this private and intimate ceremony, God chose the mantle he wanted for me. It was one of the most beautiful times I’ve ever experienced in God. A moment I’ll never forget.
I took the vows. I grasped the mantle. I won’t turn back.
Then… I stood up, went into the kitchen and made pancakes in my pajamas.
It was the best conference meeting ever!
Yesterday, however, I finally found my conference niche.
I felt heavily led to listen to the “Passing The Mantle” service being held in Ohio at the annual Pentecostal conference. So, since I live in Alaska, I took the morning off of work, got up at 5:30AM, logged onto the live service online, and sat down in front of my stone fireplace to listen to the preaching in my pajamas. Ahhhh…. Now that’s the way to worship!
For those who were unable to watch, here’s a synopsis of the service:
The service began with several worship choruses sung by a group of young women, and then the congregation was lead in focused prayer by three Prayer Leaders. First, Elizabeth Shivers led us to recognize and pray for the hurting people around us, showing that we often see the physical wounds in people, but fail to pick up on the internal, spiritual, and emotional scars. Brooke Pamer led in focused prayer for the U.S. President and a call for a revival of righteousness in God’s people. And finally, Kim Haney spoke on the power of a hungry spirit and prayed for a deeper hunger of desperation to be placed on us all.
Beth Dillon then shared an exegesis on II Kings 2, by providing an acronym for “mantle”.
M – Ministry of a mentor
A – Apostolic authority and greater anointing
N – New dimension
T – Test of faith
L – Committed lifestyle
E – Entrustment: handing over the mantle.
Next, several amazing women were recognized for their leadership and pioneer spirit in the work of God. Nona Freeman, Else Lund, and Eunilah Mean were all ordained ministers during their day, ministering as pastors and missionaries around the world. In addition, Vesta Mangun, Jean Urshan, Sis. Chambers and others were acknowledged.
Finally, Joy Haney spoke to the women on “Your Daughters Shall Prophesy” taken from the book of Joel. She stated that there is an obligation and privilege to pass on the mantle of truth, noting that this does not mean the older generation was relinquishing their mantle, just sharing and enlarging it.
She began by identifying several mantles that people needed to pick up: Sacrifice, faith, prayer, fasting, love, hunger, and character.
While reading the story of Elijah and Elisha, she noted three places that God sent Elijah. 1) Bethel – House of God: This is the place where there was an encounter with the supernatural; a place of prayer. 2) Jericho – Fragrant: This word refers to the sweet savor of the spirit and is connected with sacrifice (Leviticus). She noted that we are to be a sweet smelling fragrance to God (Romans 12:1). 3) Jordan – Flowing down: This indicates the river flowing down from heaven. Jordan is also a place of the supernatural. However, we cannot enter into that place without faith – and faith comes by the Word of God. She emphasized that we need to develop a hunger to devour the Word of God.
She then began to reiterate that many are needed to take up the mantle of sacrifice. When we pray and fast, seeking the supernatural, we will see the power of God come forth. (Acts 4:31 – Boldness & power from prayer). Wherever we are, God will bring people to him through us, if we begin to boldly seek his face for revival. She then began to share stories of the miraculous works that God has done through women of prayer. T. W. Barnes was quoted as saying, “If we want what God wants, we must get back to old fashioned prayer and fasting.”
Declaring the need, she concluded by saying that we need to lay on the altar of sacrifice and tell God, “Whatever you require…”, and prophesied saying that if the younger generation would grasp hold of the mantle of prayer, fasting, and studying God’s work, He would pour out His spirit like never before.
At this point, she asked the younger women to take the following six vows:
1) This day, I will accept the challenge of the Spirit.
2) I will give myself to daily prayer and study of the Word of God.
3) I will establish times of fasting and fervent prayer in my life.
4) I will surrender my body as a living sacrifice to God.
5) I will commit myself to purity, holiness, and Godly character.
6) I will fulfill the great commission.
Finally, the older women gathered around the younger women and placed a symbolic mantle over their shoulders and began to pray that the mantle that God would choose for them, would be represented.
As I sat there on my living room floor, I grabbed the blanket off of the couch and wrapped it around my head and torso. Tears poured out of me as I plead for God’s leading in my life. There were no women praying for me, no woman to share her mantle with me, but I think that was just the way I needed it. Were I in the congregation, I might have wished the woman praying for me were someone I knew was a great warrior in the spirit, or a pioneer in adventurous faith. However, in this private and intimate ceremony, God chose the mantle he wanted for me. It was one of the most beautiful times I’ve ever experienced in God. A moment I’ll never forget.
I took the vows. I grasped the mantle. I won’t turn back.
Then… I stood up, went into the kitchen and made pancakes in my pajamas.
It was the best conference meeting ever!
Thursday, September 28, 2006
A Celebration of Women in Ministry
This week, thousands of miles away from the beautiful peaks of the North, an annual international conference of Pentecostals is being held in Columbus, Ohio! For many this will be a wonderful time of refreshing, fellowship, and inspiration. For those of us who cannot attend, it will be a week just like every other.
This year, during today's Ladies Day, there will be a special service entitled "Passing the Mantle" for women in ministry. This will be an amazing time in the spirit and an opportunity that many of us have been desperately praying for. Even though I cannot attend this year - I do not want to miss out.
So, I've proposed two things to the many women in ministry in the Alaska-Yukon Territory district...
1) For those who are in the Anchorage, AK area, they are welcome to meet me at my house at 6AM on Thursday morning, to watch this service live. We'll enjoy each other’s company, anointed preaching, and prayer for one another.
2) For those across our vast district who are unable to come, I’m inviting them to set aside Thursday to fast and/or pray for our women. We can join in prayer, even if it is remotely!
If you are a woman of the older generation, please pray for the younger women. We need your wisdom, anointing, experience and power. We need your words of faith to sweep over us like rivers and flood our hearts and minds. Pray for our vision, our strength, our homes, and our dedication. Please share your mantle.
If you are a woman of the younger generation, please pray for an acceptance of this mantle. We need to embrace the anointing that God has for us, see the future he's prepared, and run with courage. We need to learn to marry the power in apostolic history with the needs of today's generations. Please embrace the mantle.
As a united force, we need to pray against feelings of being overwhelmed, loneliness, depression, fear, and anxiety. We need to pray for a fresh awakening from God, a renewal of his call on our lives, a surge of energy, a confirmation of his provision for our homes, salvation for our families, and a joy like we've never known before.
The bottom line is that we need each other and we need God. I know I do. I'm assuming that I'm not alone.
This year, during today's Ladies Day, there will be a special service entitled "Passing the Mantle" for women in ministry. This will be an amazing time in the spirit and an opportunity that many of us have been desperately praying for. Even though I cannot attend this year - I do not want to miss out.
So, I've proposed two things to the many women in ministry in the Alaska-Yukon Territory district...
1) For those who are in the Anchorage, AK area, they are welcome to meet me at my house at 6AM on Thursday morning, to watch this service live. We'll enjoy each other’s company, anointed preaching, and prayer for one another.
2) For those across our vast district who are unable to come, I’m inviting them to set aside Thursday to fast and/or pray for our women. We can join in prayer, even if it is remotely!
If you are a woman of the older generation, please pray for the younger women. We need your wisdom, anointing, experience and power. We need your words of faith to sweep over us like rivers and flood our hearts and minds. Pray for our vision, our strength, our homes, and our dedication. Please share your mantle.
If you are a woman of the younger generation, please pray for an acceptance of this mantle. We need to embrace the anointing that God has for us, see the future he's prepared, and run with courage. We need to learn to marry the power in apostolic history with the needs of today's generations. Please embrace the mantle.
As a united force, we need to pray against feelings of being overwhelmed, loneliness, depression, fear, and anxiety. We need to pray for a fresh awakening from God, a renewal of his call on our lives, a surge of energy, a confirmation of his provision for our homes, salvation for our families, and a joy like we've never known before.
The bottom line is that we need each other and we need God. I know I do. I'm assuming that I'm not alone.
A friend when you need one
It’s amazing how God always knows exactly what you need, when you need it.
This past year has been an extraordinarily crazy one. There were amazing highs of excitement and devastating depths of depression. And everywhere in between. Over and over again I felt totally alone and prayed for someone to communicate with. Not necessarily to cry on their shoulder or gain great gems of wisdom. Just someone to sip a cup of tea with and chat about scripture or prayer; just to get my mind off of my reality. But no one came.
Awhile back, I decided that every time I felt miserable I’d send out emails or cards, leave voice mails to people, trying to be to others what I wanted for myself. This year I’ve sent out a record number of cards and emails. I’ve called leaders and friends, acquaintances and a couple of times, complete strangers. Still I felt alone.
The culmination of my stress came in this past two months. First, I work for BP, a company currently undergoing a tremendous amount of stress and public scrutiny, so the pressured environment at work increased with uncertainty. Second, I’ve been dealing with my grandmother’s illness, which seems to have become highly personal and emotional. Third, our small church plant has experienced the joy and pain of growth lately – a great problem. All of this, and a great deal more, threw me into a tailspin as I began to realize that the only stable force in my life is God.
My stress compounded in mid-September while I was attending a Women Training Women workshop in Anchorage, held at a local church. It was a great time of learning and networking, yet as I was in seeking new ways to reach and minister to the women in my church and community, inwardly I was dying.
It happened to be six month anniversary of the loss of our only child, Will, who died a week before the finalization of his adoption. After ten years of failed adoptions, he was our sure thing; our beautiful son. We were shell-shocked and I was devastated and broken with grief. His death occurred this past February during an annual minister’s conference that my husband and I were attending. Because of the timing, I quickly learned to hide my sorrow and tried to bravely remain silent. I'm sure there were those who thought I was aloof, snobby, or just shy. The truth was, I was desperately trying to function, walk, eat, and breathe without sobbing uncontrollably. There we were, with family, friends, and ministers surrounding us and no one, not even those who knew about our loss, spoke to us about how we were doing as church planters, people new to a remote state, or a couple who just buried their dream. We went to the services, attended the morning sessions, and ate meals with an entire group of people who were supposed to care about us, but never detected that my husband and I were dead people walking.
Six months later, there I was again: chatting with the speakers, taking notes in the classes, and sharing ideas with the attendees, when inside I simply wanted to crawl into a corner, curl up into a ball and weep. This is when God finally answered my prayers for an unlikely friend. She was a speaker at the conference, and is the Women’s Ministry leader for the Colorado Southern Baptist Convention. As we began to speak about ministry, she immediately detected that something was amiss. Our conversation quickly shifted and soon it became clear that God had provided me with the connection that I needed.
Then, Tuesday He did it again.
I was having a particularly bad day and simply wanted someone to pray with me. Not necessarily for me, but someone that I could join together with as a force of two instead of one. So, I decided to track down my wonderful friend Mary Loudermilk, a woman of authentic honesty, courage, and wisdom. After numerous phone calls, I found her in a hotel in Columbus, Ohio and tentatively dialed her number.
When she answered the phone, I apologized for not staying in touch like I should have. Many reasons. No excuses. But I told her that right now, I just needed her prayers. She didn’t ask questions, interrogate me, or berate me for my lack of communication. It just so happened that another amazing woman and friend, Gwyn Oakes, was chatting with her at the time, and instantly the two of them got on the phone and began to pray with me. It was exactly what I needed. All of this time, God knew when, where, who, and how.
It once again showed me that we are never truly alone, although we may not see anyone around us. Why God chose for my support team to be located in areas thousands of miles from me, I don’t know. But He did. And I’m simply grateful.
This past year has been an extraordinarily crazy one. There were amazing highs of excitement and devastating depths of depression. And everywhere in between. Over and over again I felt totally alone and prayed for someone to communicate with. Not necessarily to cry on their shoulder or gain great gems of wisdom. Just someone to sip a cup of tea with and chat about scripture or prayer; just to get my mind off of my reality. But no one came.
Awhile back, I decided that every time I felt miserable I’d send out emails or cards, leave voice mails to people, trying to be to others what I wanted for myself. This year I’ve sent out a record number of cards and emails. I’ve called leaders and friends, acquaintances and a couple of times, complete strangers. Still I felt alone.
The culmination of my stress came in this past two months. First, I work for BP, a company currently undergoing a tremendous amount of stress and public scrutiny, so the pressured environment at work increased with uncertainty. Second, I’ve been dealing with my grandmother’s illness, which seems to have become highly personal and emotional. Third, our small church plant has experienced the joy and pain of growth lately – a great problem. All of this, and a great deal more, threw me into a tailspin as I began to realize that the only stable force in my life is God.
My stress compounded in mid-September while I was attending a Women Training Women workshop in Anchorage, held at a local church. It was a great time of learning and networking, yet as I was in seeking new ways to reach and minister to the women in my church and community, inwardly I was dying.
It happened to be six month anniversary of the loss of our only child, Will, who died a week before the finalization of his adoption. After ten years of failed adoptions, he was our sure thing; our beautiful son. We were shell-shocked and I was devastated and broken with grief. His death occurred this past February during an annual minister’s conference that my husband and I were attending. Because of the timing, I quickly learned to hide my sorrow and tried to bravely remain silent. I'm sure there were those who thought I was aloof, snobby, or just shy. The truth was, I was desperately trying to function, walk, eat, and breathe without sobbing uncontrollably. There we were, with family, friends, and ministers surrounding us and no one, not even those who knew about our loss, spoke to us about how we were doing as church planters, people new to a remote state, or a couple who just buried their dream. We went to the services, attended the morning sessions, and ate meals with an entire group of people who were supposed to care about us, but never detected that my husband and I were dead people walking.
Six months later, there I was again: chatting with the speakers, taking notes in the classes, and sharing ideas with the attendees, when inside I simply wanted to crawl into a corner, curl up into a ball and weep. This is when God finally answered my prayers for an unlikely friend. She was a speaker at the conference, and is the Women’s Ministry leader for the Colorado Southern Baptist Convention. As we began to speak about ministry, she immediately detected that something was amiss. Our conversation quickly shifted and soon it became clear that God had provided me with the connection that I needed.
Then, Tuesday He did it again.
I was having a particularly bad day and simply wanted someone to pray with me. Not necessarily for me, but someone that I could join together with as a force of two instead of one. So, I decided to track down my wonderful friend Mary Loudermilk, a woman of authentic honesty, courage, and wisdom. After numerous phone calls, I found her in a hotel in Columbus, Ohio and tentatively dialed her number.
When she answered the phone, I apologized for not staying in touch like I should have. Many reasons. No excuses. But I told her that right now, I just needed her prayers. She didn’t ask questions, interrogate me, or berate me for my lack of communication. It just so happened that another amazing woman and friend, Gwyn Oakes, was chatting with her at the time, and instantly the two of them got on the phone and began to pray with me. It was exactly what I needed. All of this time, God knew when, where, who, and how.
It once again showed me that we are never truly alone, although we may not see anyone around us. Why God chose for my support team to be located in areas thousands of miles from me, I don’t know. But He did. And I’m simply grateful.
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Drowning to Live
Woman overboard in the icy swells of Resurrection Bay!
While it sounds like a newspaper headline heralding the tragic end of a life, it was actually an event that I willingly paid to do: plunge headfirst into the frigid waves of Resurrection Bay off Alaska’s Seward coast.
Okay, so it wasn’t really as ridiculous as it sounds. It really was a decision that I made in my right mind and one that strangely, I didn’t later regret.
It all began when a girlfriend of mine suggested that we take a weekend out, and go sea kayaking along the Alaskan coast. In addition to cruising around inlets and coves, she had arranged for a morning class to familiarize ourselves with the joys and dangers of sea kayaking. While I’ve paddled in a fair amount of locations, I’d never taken an actual course teaching maneuvers, navigation, survival, and rescue, so I thought this would be a great addition to my adventure and signed up.
At six o’clock on the morning of our trip, I met up with four other girls in a grocery store parking lot, and after we’d loaded all of our camping gear into my Suburban, we headed down the coast for a rainy, two-hour drive. After weaving in and out of mountain passes, hugging rocky cliffs that plunged into glacial silt, and scooting across grassy wetlands, the rain began to dissipate and we found ourselves in quaint, mystical Seward, Alaska.
Our class began teaching the basics of kayaking: differences between boat designs, stroke techniques, basics of navigation, and survival and distress procedures. “Securitae, Securitae, Securitae” for general announcements or notices of crossing large shipping lanes. “Ponpon, Ponpon, Ponpon” for non-life-threatening distress calls. “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday” for emergency calls of immediate threat to life.
All of the class seemed familiar and routine to me and I began to wonder if I should skip the class and join the rest of my group for the afternoon excursion. That’s when everything changed.
Our instructor began the water portion of the training; a lesson in self-rescue and other-rescue, depending if a person “tipped” in a single or tandem kayak. As our group had five persons and I was the most experienced, I was given the single kayak and the rest of the group was paired up into two tandem kayaks. Soon we were suited up in wetsuits heading across the rocky beach toward the gray, chilly waters of Resurrection Bay.
Unlike the ideal floats in my dreams, the sky was somewhat dark mirroring the intimidating waves swelling high: glacier-fed waters, clear and cold. It was here in this less-than-ideal environment that we were going to voluntarily plunge our bodies into the ocean.
Our instructors gave us the rundown of the varying steps required for the different kayak types, and we desperately committed them to memory, hoping that the shock of the water temperature and our imaginations of things deep didn’t cloud our thinking.
As we struggled against the waves to navigate toward a deep, vessel-free area of the bay, I began to question my sanity. I’d kayaked in many different places, in a variety of conditions and waters, without tragic events or even minor threats to my safety. Why did I think I needed to subject myself to this? I wasn’t an expert, but I certainly wasn’t a novice. Couldn’t I get along in the future, just doing what I’d always done? Did I have to purposefully capsize myself to prove I could do something I’d been doing for years?
As I was mentally finalizing my argument, my instructor told me I was to go first. Without realizing it, I had paddled into direct position and was perfectly placed to demonstrate my version of suicide by drowning.
I sat there with my feathered paddle in an static position, thinking, How does a person intentionally flip their boat? Doesn’t instinct keep us balanced and upright? I don’t think I can do this. Then, with a quick breath and a quicker prayer, I swung by body left into the chilly, 40 degree waves.
I was surprised how quickly the boat flipped, trapping me upside down in the water. Instinct took over and I quickly located and pulled the release tab, pushing myself downward into the water and out of the overturned boat. Within seconds, I popped up onto the surface, gasped for breath, and quickly located my boat and paddle. As I fought the waves and struggled to flip the vessel rightside up, I began mentally checking off the steps I’d stowed away in my brain. Return the boat topside up. Blow eight deep breaths into the paddle float, push it over one end of the paddle, and secure it three times with the strap. Lodge the unfettered end of the paddle through the kayak straps, perpendicular to the kayak, creating an outrigger effect to counterbalance and stabilize the vessel. Placing the majority of body weight on the extended paddle, slowly begin lifting body onto the twisting boat, remaining low to the surface of the kayak. Perform a belly crawl toward the back of the kayak, passing the opening, until one leg can enter backwards into the seat compartment. Insert the second leg into the compartment, and slowly rotate your body until you are seated right side up in the kayak. Secure and seal the kayak skirt, so the onslaught of waves will not add additional water into the overloaded boat. Quickly begin pumping water out of the vessel to stabilize the balance and prevent subsequent flips. Once the water is successfully removed, stow the pump and float back into their secure position and begin paddling to safety.
What seemed like torturous hours passed swiftly, and after I ran through each step I was amazed at the how quickly I found myself safely back inside my boat. I paddled through the water to my friends, shivered in the wind, and watched them take their turn. As each person bravely plunged into the cold water, I watched the varied reactions and instincts take hold. Some were shocked by the icy, swift waves, while others immediately panicked with the reality of drowning and thoughts of creatures hovering deep. Some mechanically ran through the steps and instinctively began rescuing their partner. Whatever the initial reaction, we all overcame our fear and made it through the challenge, rising from the water, cold, wet, and liberated.
It wasn’t until we began heading back for the shore that I suddenly realized what an amazing thrill and invaluable experience I had just participated in. Though the waters were still choppy and the threatening sky hovered overhead, I suddenly saw the beautiful, fog-draped mountains, an otter floating on his back, seagulls and eagles jockeying for fish nearby; all scenes I’d missed in my earlier pass through these grey waters.
Although I was somewhat experienced in the art of sea kayaking, there was something different about my stroke, something new about the way in which I maneuvered my vessel. I was free.
I had placed myself in one of the most precarious positions a sea kayaker can encounter, purposefully tipped into the ocean, and successfully re-entered my boat all by myself. I had lived my worst case scenario and survived.
I felt fully alive.
While it sounds like a newspaper headline heralding the tragic end of a life, it was actually an event that I willingly paid to do: plunge headfirst into the frigid waves of Resurrection Bay off Alaska’s Seward coast.
Okay, so it wasn’t really as ridiculous as it sounds. It really was a decision that I made in my right mind and one that strangely, I didn’t later regret.
It all began when a girlfriend of mine suggested that we take a weekend out, and go sea kayaking along the Alaskan coast. In addition to cruising around inlets and coves, she had arranged for a morning class to familiarize ourselves with the joys and dangers of sea kayaking. While I’ve paddled in a fair amount of locations, I’d never taken an actual course teaching maneuvers, navigation, survival, and rescue, so I thought this would be a great addition to my adventure and signed up.
At six o’clock on the morning of our trip, I met up with four other girls in a grocery store parking lot, and after we’d loaded all of our camping gear into my Suburban, we headed down the coast for a rainy, two-hour drive. After weaving in and out of mountain passes, hugging rocky cliffs that plunged into glacial silt, and scooting across grassy wetlands, the rain began to dissipate and we found ourselves in quaint, mystical Seward, Alaska.
Our class began teaching the basics of kayaking: differences between boat designs, stroke techniques, basics of navigation, and survival and distress procedures. “Securitae, Securitae, Securitae” for general announcements or notices of crossing large shipping lanes. “Ponpon, Ponpon, Ponpon” for non-life-threatening distress calls. “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday” for emergency calls of immediate threat to life.
All of the class seemed familiar and routine to me and I began to wonder if I should skip the class and join the rest of my group for the afternoon excursion. That’s when everything changed.
Our instructor began the water portion of the training; a lesson in self-rescue and other-rescue, depending if a person “tipped” in a single or tandem kayak. As our group had five persons and I was the most experienced, I was given the single kayak and the rest of the group was paired up into two tandem kayaks. Soon we were suited up in wetsuits heading across the rocky beach toward the gray, chilly waters of Resurrection Bay.
Unlike the ideal floats in my dreams, the sky was somewhat dark mirroring the intimidating waves swelling high: glacier-fed waters, clear and cold. It was here in this less-than-ideal environment that we were going to voluntarily plunge our bodies into the ocean.
Our instructors gave us the rundown of the varying steps required for the different kayak types, and we desperately committed them to memory, hoping that the shock of the water temperature and our imaginations of things deep didn’t cloud our thinking.
As we struggled against the waves to navigate toward a deep, vessel-free area of the bay, I began to question my sanity. I’d kayaked in many different places, in a variety of conditions and waters, without tragic events or even minor threats to my safety. Why did I think I needed to subject myself to this? I wasn’t an expert, but I certainly wasn’t a novice. Couldn’t I get along in the future, just doing what I’d always done? Did I have to purposefully capsize myself to prove I could do something I’d been doing for years?
As I was mentally finalizing my argument, my instructor told me I was to go first. Without realizing it, I had paddled into direct position and was perfectly placed to demonstrate my version of suicide by drowning.
I sat there with my feathered paddle in an static position, thinking, How does a person intentionally flip their boat? Doesn’t instinct keep us balanced and upright? I don’t think I can do this. Then, with a quick breath and a quicker prayer, I swung by body left into the chilly, 40 degree waves.
I was surprised how quickly the boat flipped, trapping me upside down in the water. Instinct took over and I quickly located and pulled the release tab, pushing myself downward into the water and out of the overturned boat. Within seconds, I popped up onto the surface, gasped for breath, and quickly located my boat and paddle. As I fought the waves and struggled to flip the vessel rightside up, I began mentally checking off the steps I’d stowed away in my brain. Return the boat topside up. Blow eight deep breaths into the paddle float, push it over one end of the paddle, and secure it three times with the strap. Lodge the unfettered end of the paddle through the kayak straps, perpendicular to the kayak, creating an outrigger effect to counterbalance and stabilize the vessel. Placing the majority of body weight on the extended paddle, slowly begin lifting body onto the twisting boat, remaining low to the surface of the kayak. Perform a belly crawl toward the back of the kayak, passing the opening, until one leg can enter backwards into the seat compartment. Insert the second leg into the compartment, and slowly rotate your body until you are seated right side up in the kayak. Secure and seal the kayak skirt, so the onslaught of waves will not add additional water into the overloaded boat. Quickly begin pumping water out of the vessel to stabilize the balance and prevent subsequent flips. Once the water is successfully removed, stow the pump and float back into their secure position and begin paddling to safety.
What seemed like torturous hours passed swiftly, and after I ran through each step I was amazed at the how quickly I found myself safely back inside my boat. I paddled through the water to my friends, shivered in the wind, and watched them take their turn. As each person bravely plunged into the cold water, I watched the varied reactions and instincts take hold. Some were shocked by the icy, swift waves, while others immediately panicked with the reality of drowning and thoughts of creatures hovering deep. Some mechanically ran through the steps and instinctively began rescuing their partner. Whatever the initial reaction, we all overcame our fear and made it through the challenge, rising from the water, cold, wet, and liberated.
It wasn’t until we began heading back for the shore that I suddenly realized what an amazing thrill and invaluable experience I had just participated in. Though the waters were still choppy and the threatening sky hovered overhead, I suddenly saw the beautiful, fog-draped mountains, an otter floating on his back, seagulls and eagles jockeying for fish nearby; all scenes I’d missed in my earlier pass through these grey waters.
Although I was somewhat experienced in the art of sea kayaking, there was something different about my stroke, something new about the way in which I maneuvered my vessel. I was free.
I had placed myself in one of the most precarious positions a sea kayaker can encounter, purposefully tipped into the ocean, and successfully re-entered my boat all by myself. I had lived my worst case scenario and survived.
I felt fully alive.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Riding wild and taking in the view
Okay... so it has been a long time since I've written anything. Not that there hasn't been anything to say - perhaps because there has been too much to say. It has been crazy, hectic, and truly wild.
In the last three weeks, we have had 37 people stay in our small home; some for one night, some for two weeks. We painted the inside and outside of our cabin, and added a new roof. We went to our church's summer camp and endured the resulting conflicted emotions. To top it all off, three weeks ago, we were thrown a major curve ball. For the past five years, an option for our future has popped in and out of our lives. We've mulled it over, discussed it, prayed about it, and always decided - it wasn't time. Then, out of the blue, it flew back into our thoughts with the released explosion and energy of a freed volcano.
Overwhelming our thoughts, consuming our conversations, and completely throwing us off guard - our days and nights have been silently colored by thoughts of, "What if?" "Should we" "How?" "Maybe..."
Finally, after much discussion and more prayer - we feel peace. We still don't know what the future truly holds for us, but we finally feel peace to take one step forward. Whether or not this will be the beginning of a new direction, or simply a solitary step - we see the picture of our future beginning to clear... and what a beautiful, peace-filled sight; something that 37 houseguests, new roofs, hollering preachers and mosquito-filled campgrounds cannot take away.
Yes, the last three weeks have been a wild ride - but, oh... what a view.
In the last three weeks, we have had 37 people stay in our small home; some for one night, some for two weeks. We painted the inside and outside of our cabin, and added a new roof. We went to our church's summer camp and endured the resulting conflicted emotions. To top it all off, three weeks ago, we were thrown a major curve ball. For the past five years, an option for our future has popped in and out of our lives. We've mulled it over, discussed it, prayed about it, and always decided - it wasn't time. Then, out of the blue, it flew back into our thoughts with the released explosion and energy of a freed volcano.
Overwhelming our thoughts, consuming our conversations, and completely throwing us off guard - our days and nights have been silently colored by thoughts of, "What if?" "Should we" "How?" "Maybe..."
Finally, after much discussion and more prayer - we feel peace. We still don't know what the future truly holds for us, but we finally feel peace to take one step forward. Whether or not this will be the beginning of a new direction, or simply a solitary step - we see the picture of our future beginning to clear... and what a beautiful, peace-filled sight; something that 37 houseguests, new roofs, hollering preachers and mosquito-filled campgrounds cannot take away.
Yes, the last three weeks have been a wild ride - but, oh... what a view.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Friends beyond time and distance
Yesterday I had a most wonderful experience. After much investigation, I was able to track down and reconnect with an amazing woman who was one of my first friends. Her name is Jen and she is one of the most lively, intelligent, beautiful, and sensitive women I have ever met. A true ball of energy and spontaneity, she is the kind of person who sparks life into every environment she walks into.
We met in a most peculiar way. I was going to college in California and enduring a particularly lonely and desperate time - feeling out of place and isolated from the Alaska wilderness and wildlife of my youth. To make a measly attempt at connecting with nature - I took my study books outside and headed to nearby meadow to do some coursework. As I was lying on my stomach, reading, Hermeneutics, a small ladybug landed on the page and seemed to just sit there, staring at me, daring me to turn the page. I sat mesmerized, feeling as though this were the most beautiful wild creature in the world - and God sent her directly to me for the bit of encouragement that I longed for.
Later that afternoon, I made my way to the campus gym and sat quietly watching a few guys shoot hoops. As I sat there, a girl I'd seen in classes, but hardly knew, came up and we began to talk about our day. I was blown away when Jen said that she was really missing the outdoor life of her Massachusetts home. She began to tell me that to cope with her frustration, early that day, she headed out for a jog, praying that God would help her reconnect with nature. As she was out for her run, she encountered a bumblebee and was immediately overwhelmed by the fact that God sent it her way. We laughed at the oddity of it all, and how strange it was that we were both in the same place, at the same time. As we sat there, a man walked up and told us that he had two tickets to a whale-watching trip scheduled for the next day. "Do you two want the tickets?" We were blown away. It was exactly the kind of nature connection we had been praying for.
The next day, we found ourselves onboard a charter boat in the Pacific Ocean, scanning the seas for sign of whale, giddy, renewed, and alive. We didn't find any whales during that trip - but we did find a new friendship. One that always seemed full of adventure.
After about four years, life took us in separate directions and we quickly lost touch. However, I never stopped thinking about our friendship and wondering where her path had taken her. While we spoke, yesterday, I was thrilled to her about her world and the joys that have come her way. I was equally hurt when I realized that she, like myself, has experienced great hurt that I never knew about.
We come across amazing people in our lives and cherish the moments that we spend with them. However, often it is easy to walk away and obliviously surrender ourselves to the whirl of life around us, never seeing the whirl in the worlds of others. I missed out on some amazing experiences and opportunities to share with her how much I valued her in my life.
Perhaps this is a lesson to us all to do what we can to maintain friendships and connections, beyond time, distance, and challenging experiences. Life is an adventure and we need all of the support we can get and give.
We met in a most peculiar way. I was going to college in California and enduring a particularly lonely and desperate time - feeling out of place and isolated from the Alaska wilderness and wildlife of my youth. To make a measly attempt at connecting with nature - I took my study books outside and headed to nearby meadow to do some coursework. As I was lying on my stomach, reading, Hermeneutics, a small ladybug landed on the page and seemed to just sit there, staring at me, daring me to turn the page. I sat mesmerized, feeling as though this were the most beautiful wild creature in the world - and God sent her directly to me for the bit of encouragement that I longed for.
Later that afternoon, I made my way to the campus gym and sat quietly watching a few guys shoot hoops. As I sat there, a girl I'd seen in classes, but hardly knew, came up and we began to talk about our day. I was blown away when Jen said that she was really missing the outdoor life of her Massachusetts home. She began to tell me that to cope with her frustration, early that day, she headed out for a jog, praying that God would help her reconnect with nature. As she was out for her run, she encountered a bumblebee and was immediately overwhelmed by the fact that God sent it her way. We laughed at the oddity of it all, and how strange it was that we were both in the same place, at the same time. As we sat there, a man walked up and told us that he had two tickets to a whale-watching trip scheduled for the next day. "Do you two want the tickets?" We were blown away. It was exactly the kind of nature connection we had been praying for.
The next day, we found ourselves onboard a charter boat in the Pacific Ocean, scanning the seas for sign of whale, giddy, renewed, and alive. We didn't find any whales during that trip - but we did find a new friendship. One that always seemed full of adventure.
After about four years, life took us in separate directions and we quickly lost touch. However, I never stopped thinking about our friendship and wondering where her path had taken her. While we spoke, yesterday, I was thrilled to her about her world and the joys that have come her way. I was equally hurt when I realized that she, like myself, has experienced great hurt that I never knew about.
We come across amazing people in our lives and cherish the moments that we spend with them. However, often it is easy to walk away and obliviously surrender ourselves to the whirl of life around us, never seeing the whirl in the worlds of others. I missed out on some amazing experiences and opportunities to share with her how much I valued her in my life.
Perhaps this is a lesson to us all to do what we can to maintain friendships and connections, beyond time, distance, and challenging experiences. Life is an adventure and we need all of the support we can get and give.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Icy Hot Lips and other rebellions
The other day, I was visiting my grandmother in her nursing home and had an experience that was both sad and hilarious at the same time. Grandma Yadon has always been a bit crotchety toward me, however increasingly more so as her Alzheimer’s Disease has progressed. With her heightened state of frailty and confusion, her reactions have become much like a frightened preschooler, exercising her independence and revealing her denied inadequacies at the same time.
I stepped away from her bed for just a moment, and when I turned back to her, she had grabbed a jar of Icy Hot ointment from the nearby dresser. The lid was off, and she was dabbing her thin, gnarled finger into the translucent balm and proceeding to raise her hand toward her lips. Realizing what she was doing, I quickly grabbed the jar and told her, “Grandma, this is not for your lips.”
“You can’t tell me what to do. I know what this is. See!”
“No, Grandma, this is for the pain in your knees. You use Carmex for your lips,” I said, reaching for the small, yellow jar by her bed.
Angrily, she told me I didn’t know what I was doing and quickly began rubbing a large glob of Icy Hot across her lips. Torn between laughter and horror, I wrestled the lid back on the jar, while she still held it into her hands. From the angle that she held the jar, she apparently did not realize the lid had returned, and she continued to defiantly dip her hand on the lid, and back to her lips – as if she were continuing to add more and more balm to her mouth. All the while, I tried to maintain a respectful demeanor while she glared at me as though I depriving her from the moisture her parched mouth longed for.
Finally, after three solid minutes of staring me down, rubbing her finger on the smooth plastic lid, and back to her Icy Hot coated mouth, she told me she was finished.
I didn’t have to wait for long. Within minutes, her weary eyes began to water and she started asking me if we had any ice or water. My amusement at the situation (albeit inappropriate) was overridden by the knowledge that she had to be in a horrid state of discomfort. I spent the next forty minutes wiping her lips with ice and holding the sippee cup of cool water up to her fiery mouth. I felt horrible for her, knowing the burning sensation must have been driving her crazy, but all I could do was assist her in this miserable state.
I immediately began to think of all the times, I have defiantly stood my ground against the advice of others, only to find myself in a terrible, burning predicament. More so, how many times have I pushed forward with my life, without heeding the nudging of God, only to find myself in a place of sheer pain? There, in a circumstance created by my own brash pig-headedness, I call out and beg him to ease my suffering. So many times, God has had the right to say, “I told you so”, but he never has. He lovingly begins wiping the cool ice of refreshment and healing and causes my self-induced pain to dissipate.
While I hope I will never have true Icy Hot lips, I hope this serves as a reminder to myself pause, listen, and follow. Even though he doesn’t say, “I told you so,” I don’t want to keep giving him reasons that he could.
I stepped away from her bed for just a moment, and when I turned back to her, she had grabbed a jar of Icy Hot ointment from the nearby dresser. The lid was off, and she was dabbing her thin, gnarled finger into the translucent balm and proceeding to raise her hand toward her lips. Realizing what she was doing, I quickly grabbed the jar and told her, “Grandma, this is not for your lips.”
“You can’t tell me what to do. I know what this is. See!”
“No, Grandma, this is for the pain in your knees. You use Carmex for your lips,” I said, reaching for the small, yellow jar by her bed.
Angrily, she told me I didn’t know what I was doing and quickly began rubbing a large glob of Icy Hot across her lips. Torn between laughter and horror, I wrestled the lid back on the jar, while she still held it into her hands. From the angle that she held the jar, she apparently did not realize the lid had returned, and she continued to defiantly dip her hand on the lid, and back to her lips – as if she were continuing to add more and more balm to her mouth. All the while, I tried to maintain a respectful demeanor while she glared at me as though I depriving her from the moisture her parched mouth longed for.
Finally, after three solid minutes of staring me down, rubbing her finger on the smooth plastic lid, and back to her Icy Hot coated mouth, she told me she was finished.
I didn’t have to wait for long. Within minutes, her weary eyes began to water and she started asking me if we had any ice or water. My amusement at the situation (albeit inappropriate) was overridden by the knowledge that she had to be in a horrid state of discomfort. I spent the next forty minutes wiping her lips with ice and holding the sippee cup of cool water up to her fiery mouth. I felt horrible for her, knowing the burning sensation must have been driving her crazy, but all I could do was assist her in this miserable state.
I immediately began to think of all the times, I have defiantly stood my ground against the advice of others, only to find myself in a terrible, burning predicament. More so, how many times have I pushed forward with my life, without heeding the nudging of God, only to find myself in a place of sheer pain? There, in a circumstance created by my own brash pig-headedness, I call out and beg him to ease my suffering. So many times, God has had the right to say, “I told you so”, but he never has. He lovingly begins wiping the cool ice of refreshment and healing and causes my self-induced pain to dissipate.
While I hope I will never have true Icy Hot lips, I hope this serves as a reminder to myself pause, listen, and follow. Even though he doesn’t say, “I told you so,” I don’t want to keep giving him reasons that he could.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Beth Moore, Haunts, and Freedom
Following much anticipation, I spent Friday and Saturday at a women’s Living Proof Live conference listening to Beth Moore teach the II Kings 18-19 story of Hezekiah and Sennecherib. Her amazing sense of transparency blended perfectly with well-prepared teachings, as she shared insight about the power of fear, appropriate rebelliousness, and boldness in the face of overwhelming odds.
In addition, she discussed the power of negative words that have been spoken over us and the influence they have throughout our lives; it was here that I personally gleaned the most. While I try to portray a together, carefree, happy-go-lucky life, I’ve always battled internal conflict between who I longed to be and who I seemed to be. Throughout my past, I have memories of people I looked up to, who have told me that I would never be what I dreamed of, I could not be trusted, I did not truly have a call on my life, the world would be better off without me, and that everything I’ve experienced in God was a lie, because God would not communicate with a person of my nature and character.
We all experience rejection, disappointment, or a general sense of failure at some point in our lives. However, the source and circumstances of these experiences is an indicator of how greatly we allow these events to dictate our thought processes.
While I have heard many people say great, positive words over me, I suppose it was the level of the high value that I placed on these people, that allowed their negative words to influence me so greatly. Because I trusted their judgement and respected their positions, these views of me molded my view of myself. It was here in this place of turmoil, that I found the need to recognize that the memories, words, or actions that haunt me do not dictate who I am; my core is not the sum of my experiences; they may revolve around me, but they do not define me.
This was not the first time I’ve heard this teaching – but this time I clearly had a fresh understanding of my identity in Christ, a view that stood above all my previous self-visions. This new look was welcome and freeing – an experience I’ve been longing for for quite some time.
I’ve recently been studying Biblical grace and mercy, and I’ve been overwhelmed at what I’ve found. It is through these amazing gifts from God that we are free to truly live, beyond the barriers that we or others have placed upon ourselves. By grasping to this amazing, liberating understanding that God loves us, period, my life changed. He loves us, not because of our performance, not because of adherence to rules or guidelines, not because we love him. He simply loves us, first. Period.
The thoughts that have haunted me are not who I am, nor who I was. I am, have been, and always will be God’s child, his love.
Can we be any freer?
In addition, she discussed the power of negative words that have been spoken over us and the influence they have throughout our lives; it was here that I personally gleaned the most. While I try to portray a together, carefree, happy-go-lucky life, I’ve always battled internal conflict between who I longed to be and who I seemed to be. Throughout my past, I have memories of people I looked up to, who have told me that I would never be what I dreamed of, I could not be trusted, I did not truly have a call on my life, the world would be better off without me, and that everything I’ve experienced in God was a lie, because God would not communicate with a person of my nature and character.
We all experience rejection, disappointment, or a general sense of failure at some point in our lives. However, the source and circumstances of these experiences is an indicator of how greatly we allow these events to dictate our thought processes.
While I have heard many people say great, positive words over me, I suppose it was the level of the high value that I placed on these people, that allowed their negative words to influence me so greatly. Because I trusted their judgement and respected their positions, these views of me molded my view of myself. It was here in this place of turmoil, that I found the need to recognize that the memories, words, or actions that haunt me do not dictate who I am; my core is not the sum of my experiences; they may revolve around me, but they do not define me.
This was not the first time I’ve heard this teaching – but this time I clearly had a fresh understanding of my identity in Christ, a view that stood above all my previous self-visions. This new look was welcome and freeing – an experience I’ve been longing for for quite some time.
I’ve recently been studying Biblical grace and mercy, and I’ve been overwhelmed at what I’ve found. It is through these amazing gifts from God that we are free to truly live, beyond the barriers that we or others have placed upon ourselves. By grasping to this amazing, liberating understanding that God loves us, period, my life changed. He loves us, not because of our performance, not because of adherence to rules or guidelines, not because we love him. He simply loves us, first. Period.
The thoughts that have haunted me are not who I am, nor who I was. I am, have been, and always will be God’s child, his love.
Can we be any freer?
Monday, June 05, 2006
Kodiak: A weekend to change my life
Rolling, green mountains, dotted with giant spruce, the color of dark envy rise high into the icy blue sky before plunging deep into the emerald waters. Tiny, rocky islands dance across the ocean’s surface like a velvet bag of gems poured out on a glassy mirror.
This scene of ethereal beauty is where we spent our weekend. Kodiak, Alaska: a land of enormous bears, intriguing people, and breathtaking beauty.
After our community bible study on Thursday, Toby and I flew off to Kodiak, Alaska, an hour southwest of Anchorage. Located on a majestic island, this fishing community is an amazing convergence of traditional bustling life of a fishing village and the serene calm of a coastal resort town. We traveled there to visit our friends, David and Mechelle Bradbury, who are also planting a church and starting in their home.
We had an amazing weekend walking through the forests (after which, we noticed the signs about recent bear sightings), enjoying the local restaurants’ fresh fish menus, and sea kayaking in one of the nearby bays.
As truly hospitable guests, David and Mechelle hosted a barbeque to introduce us to their friends and together we had a great time talking, laughing, and eating, eating, eating.
While there is nothing like the security and familiarity of one’s own bungalow, it is always refreshing to step away and visit the worlds of others. I feel like I learned a lot about my friends and about myself on this trip – lessons that were welcome and helped me see myself in new perspectives.
As I was paddling my kayak back into the beach, I began to glide and just paused to breathe in the surroundings. I was leading the pack, so all I saw before me were the sparkling ocean tides crashing onto the rocky beach, tall grass framing a nearby riverbed, and mountains rising high before me.
That’s when it hit me. This is how I want to spend my time. Enjoying life. I don’t want to waste my days with the mundane tasks and commitments that don’t truly fulfill me. I want each moment to feel like I’m gliding across glassy waters; each day to be filled with excitement and true enjoyment.
I don’t need to kayak every day, but I do want to learn to truly live in the moment; to learn to capture opportunities for joy; to simply live.
While I’ve been saying this for quite a while (35 years to be exact), this weekend helped emphasize this in a whole new way, and hopefully was impacting enough to give me the courage to make positive change.
It was a wonderful weekend with friends. And hopefully, it was a weekend to change my life.
This scene of ethereal beauty is where we spent our weekend. Kodiak, Alaska: a land of enormous bears, intriguing people, and breathtaking beauty.
After our community bible study on Thursday, Toby and I flew off to Kodiak, Alaska, an hour southwest of Anchorage. Located on a majestic island, this fishing community is an amazing convergence of traditional bustling life of a fishing village and the serene calm of a coastal resort town. We traveled there to visit our friends, David and Mechelle Bradbury, who are also planting a church and starting in their home.
We had an amazing weekend walking through the forests (after which, we noticed the signs about recent bear sightings), enjoying the local restaurants’ fresh fish menus, and sea kayaking in one of the nearby bays.
As truly hospitable guests, David and Mechelle hosted a barbeque to introduce us to their friends and together we had a great time talking, laughing, and eating, eating, eating.
While there is nothing like the security and familiarity of one’s own bungalow, it is always refreshing to step away and visit the worlds of others. I feel like I learned a lot about my friends and about myself on this trip – lessons that were welcome and helped me see myself in new perspectives.
As I was paddling my kayak back into the beach, I began to glide and just paused to breathe in the surroundings. I was leading the pack, so all I saw before me were the sparkling ocean tides crashing onto the rocky beach, tall grass framing a nearby riverbed, and mountains rising high before me.
That’s when it hit me. This is how I want to spend my time. Enjoying life. I don’t want to waste my days with the mundane tasks and commitments that don’t truly fulfill me. I want each moment to feel like I’m gliding across glassy waters; each day to be filled with excitement and true enjoyment.
I don’t need to kayak every day, but I do want to learn to truly live in the moment; to learn to capture opportunities for joy; to simply live.
While I’ve been saying this for quite a while (35 years to be exact), this weekend helped emphasize this in a whole new way, and hopefully was impacting enough to give me the courage to make positive change.
It was a wonderful weekend with friends. And hopefully, it was a weekend to change my life.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
A Beautiful Weekend: Love, Fishing, and Spinach Salad
This weekend was great is so many ways.
Not only was the weather unbelievably beautiful, but an open schedule allowed us to simply enjoy life. Friday and Saturday were a bit hazy due to a nearby forest fire, but the temperature was perfect for yard work, so Toby and I spent the evenings building our fence, prepping the lawn and cleaning flower beds.
By Sunday morning, our church gathering was already experiencing the typical Alaskan “summer slump”; with six months of winter behind us, people are so excited for great weather, that they literally spend all summer outside: hiking, fishing, camping, biking, kayaking, hunting, etc. Even so, we still had a full living room and great conversation about the values of God. We discussed the concept that the two most important foundations in scripture are first, to love God with no holds barred, and second, to truly love others like we would ourselves. While this seems elementary and assumed, scripture says that every commandment and concept in the Bible falls within these two categories. This simple understanding of how God sees the world should mandate how we treat God, those around us, and ourselves. It is so easy to place rules and guidelines as the identifying factors of who loves God, who is striving to be like Him, or who we identify with. Do they do this, or line up with that? But God simply asks, “Do you love me? Do you love them?”
There are guidelines in scripture that are important and have been set in place to help us live healthy and whole lives. But these principles are all founded upon maintaining proper relationships with God and others; if these guidelines are followed and the relationships are not tended – the guidelines mean nothing and our adherence to them is empty. Do we love Him? Do we love them? That’s the bottom line. That's the beginning and ending of everything.
After church, Toby loaded up the boat and canoe and headed off to the family cabin on Long Lake with four guys from our group, John, Matt, Craig, and Tony. All Sunday and Monday, they fished, swam, talked, and just hung out.
Enjoying this bit of freedom, I stayed home, worked in my yard, read, and wrote to my heart’s content. The next day I celebrated our nation’s freedom by playing with Abbey and enjoying the traditional Memorial Day grilled tuna and spinach salad.
It was a beautiful weekend – in every way.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Peaks of Retreat
The summer season is upon us and Alaskan days are warm, bright, and long. As I was reading Donald Miller's, Blue Like Jazz at 11:30 last night, I had to pull the blinds down to keep the brilliant daylight out my eyes; there’s nothing like the midnight sun…
Yesterday, Toby took our pup, Abbey, for a walk up to Flattop Mountain and across the trails to the second peak. A couple of guys from the Air Force base joined him and together they climbed passed the point where green grasses give way to snow-covered trails. At one point, they were within 10 feet of a momma black bear and two, infant cubs the size of 5 lb sugar bags. Tiny and curious, these little creatures were already climbing in trees and exploring their new world of scents and sounds.
It is an ethereal experience to climb above the world and look down on oceans, rivers, glaciers, volcanoes, and distant peaks. From here, you can see hundreds of miles West toward the Pacific Ocean, and North toward the tallest mountains in North America. The higher one rises, the more faint life's troubles become. The jeweled city below becomes a hazy memory of reality and one’s entire world is swallowed up in the magnitude of clear air and captivating views.
Wherever we live, we must always find a place where we can rise above our world; a place where we can retreat, to slow down and breathe deeply. Like a welcome oasis in an expansive desert, these places offer solace from the stress of life and the rush of mundane commitments. They give us the opportunity to withdraw and see our world in a new and fresh perspective. They allow us to feel strong again and make our struggles grow faint.
Perhaps this lofty retreat is a city park, a sidewalk restaurant, or simply the big oak in the backyard. Wherever it is, we must find our way to it as frequently as we can.
For in this peak of retreat, we find the strength, insight, and courage to come back down the mountain and rejoin our world once again.
Yesterday, Toby took our pup, Abbey, for a walk up to Flattop Mountain and across the trails to the second peak. A couple of guys from the Air Force base joined him and together they climbed passed the point where green grasses give way to snow-covered trails. At one point, they were within 10 feet of a momma black bear and two, infant cubs the size of 5 lb sugar bags. Tiny and curious, these little creatures were already climbing in trees and exploring their new world of scents and sounds.
It is an ethereal experience to climb above the world and look down on oceans, rivers, glaciers, volcanoes, and distant peaks. From here, you can see hundreds of miles West toward the Pacific Ocean, and North toward the tallest mountains in North America. The higher one rises, the more faint life's troubles become. The jeweled city below becomes a hazy memory of reality and one’s entire world is swallowed up in the magnitude of clear air and captivating views.
Wherever we live, we must always find a place where we can rise above our world; a place where we can retreat, to slow down and breathe deeply. Like a welcome oasis in an expansive desert, these places offer solace from the stress of life and the rush of mundane commitments. They give us the opportunity to withdraw and see our world in a new and fresh perspective. They allow us to feel strong again and make our struggles grow faint.
Perhaps this lofty retreat is a city park, a sidewalk restaurant, or simply the big oak in the backyard. Wherever it is, we must find our way to it as frequently as we can.
For in this peak of retreat, we find the strength, insight, and courage to come back down the mountain and rejoin our world once again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
