Christ is in the Coffee

Perhaps you are like me, and you find that at times it is all too easy to separate your spirituality from practicality. This is the constant temptation we face to be religious- to believe and know all of the right things without much thought put towards whether or not these things are actually being lived. In a sense, I find spending time with God and His word to be easy; I sit, I read, I drink coffee, I enjoy His presence. But to take all that I learn in these moments into the rest of the world- ah, well, that can be another matter entirely.

I have been encouraged this week by a couple of readings I ran across, and so I would like to share them with you. These thoughts are for all of you that hunger for a faith that touches on every aspect of your real life:

In our community the other day, there wasn't much coffee. Coffee does me good down here in the desert. I was worried about not having any, about spending a few hours feeling dull and weak, and so- without perceiving the evil I was doing- I went into the kitchen before the others and drank up all that was left.
It seems a tiny thing, yet in that cup of coffee, taken and not shared with my brothers, is the root of all the evil which disturbs us, the poison of all the arrogance which selfishness, riches, and power create.
The difference between me and Jesus is right here, in an affair that seems simple, but isn't at all; after a whole life time it is still there to make you think. Jesus would have left the coffee for his brothers; I excluded my brothers.
 Carlo Carretto- The God Who Comes

Everyday things, relationships with other people, daily work, love of our family- all these may breed saints. Jesus at Nazareth taught us to live every hour of the day as saints. Every hour of the day is useful and may lead to divine inspiration, the will of the Father, the prayer of contemplation- holiness. Every hour of the day is holy. What matters is to live it as Jesus taught us.
And for this one does not have to shut oneself in a monastery or fix strange and inhumane regimes for one's life. It is enough to accept the realities of life. Work is one of these realities; motherhood, the rearing of children, family life with all its obligations are others.
Carretto- Letters from the Desert 

Spirituality that does not touch on these topics- life, parenting, even coffee- is not spirituality at all. If our faith in God does not lead to greater love for our friend, our neighbor, our spouse, it is not faith at all. In a season here where I am more prone to contemplation, thinking, and writing, I am striving to keep these words in mind. The way I speak to my kids during the break I take for lunch is just as important as the way I speak to Jesus in prayer. The manner in which I treat the cashier in the check out line is as significant as the manner in which I write my book. The two- inner devotion and external action- must walk together at all times. This is the heart of what Jesus taught.

Today, may you love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, and may you love your neighbor as yourself. And may you share the coffee.

Peace-
Nick

Should This Poem Go in the Book?

Hey all-

I have a favor to ask today. As many of you know, over 2+ years ago, I reached a real crisis point in my struggle with pornography. It was undermining everything I valued and destroying my marriage. On February 16, 2010, God met me in a unique way and began a process of healing in my life that continues to this day. At that time, I wrote a poem for my wife that expressed the emotions I was feeling, and communicated a vision of what needed to happen.

Here is that poem. What I would like to know is: should the poem go in the book? Is it "publishable"?
Please vote in the comments below! Thanks-

My Beauty and My Beast

One day my beauty and I went out

               And spread a blanket beneath the trees

Our minds were set upon one task

To spend the day in love’s blissful ease

My beauty laid her head upon my arm

               And rested in peaceful security there.

I gazed deeply into her loving eyes

               As I gently stroked her golden hair.

But our idyllic scene was broken by

               The sudden shaking of a bush so near

Bursting out from behind this leaf

               Came a beast to inspire great fear

My beauty cowered in my shadow

               Fearing the worst to come

But in bravado I comforted her,

               “Don’t worry, I know this one.”

For indeed, this lustful animal was mine,

               Who tracked with me day and night

“I can handle him, so be at peace

               There’s no reason for such fright.”

So over I went to reason

               With our uninvited guest

I conjured and cajoled with him

               Till he went away to rest.

I returned to my beauty’s side

               There in our peaceful glade

Unaware that on her chest

               A deep cut my beast had made

For time on end, this scene

               Predictably played over and over

Each time inflicting a deeper wound

               Near the heart of my true lover

But blind I was to the pain it caused

               Until at last she began to weep

“I’m perishing” she cried,

               “At the cruel hands of your beast.”

And there she wilted in my arms

               Alas her strength was spent

I cried out in anguish to the Heavens

               My own heart was finally rent.

And then the gracious One

               Who is wise beyond all measure

Came unseen and laid a sword

               Silently there upon the heather

I grasped it firm and strode

               To where my beast must again appear

And when he did I boldly cried,

               “Beast your end is near!”

How cunningly he softly sang

               That it didn’t have to be this way

Just let him be, he begged of me,

               And promised to stay at bay

But with one more glance at the wounds of my beauty

               I knew that I could delay no more

I plunged the sword deep into the heart of my beast

               And pierced him to the core.

In agony and screams of death,

               My beast crumpled at my feet

As at that moment a voice began to sing

               Gently, softly, perfectly and sweet

It was freedom’s song finally loosed

               From chains within my heart

I lifted up my voice in chorus,

               Singing, My God, how great thou art.

And back I turned to my beauty there,

               Still lying at death’s door

I held her tight and looked to Heaven

               Pleading for mercy once more.

Then in astonishment I watched the wounds

               Which had covered her gracious form

Begin to fade and disappear

               And her skin began to warm

Her eyes she opened in new found love

               Gazing up at me

“Is he gone?” she asked

               “Can we finally be free?”

“Forever, my beauty” I said to her

               “The battle at last is won.

You and I shall ever be

               Joyful dancers beneath a clear sun.”

One day my beauty and I went out

               And spread a blanket beneath the trees

And at last we knew that we were free

To spend the day in love’s blissful ease

 (NJS, February 18, 2010)

Can I Be Honest?

I have never been a big fan of "doing devotions." Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm a big fan of God. I'm a big fan of learning to trust Jesus, to follow where He leads, and wrap my life in His ways. I'm a big fan of that journey, but I know that it is complex and challenging. Therefore, I "do my devotions" as one discipline of growth- a practice of learning to stop my busyness in order to listen and learn from Him.

But for someone who is prone to activity and doing, stopping all of that to sit, read, and listen feels, well, like a waste of time. I did ask if I could be honest, right? I mean, it seems like there are so many valuable ways to spend my time that contemplation and silence feel so unproductive and out of step.

I ran across something recently, though, that has really helped me shift my thoughts about "quiet time". This is from author H. A. Williams:
So also in the prayer of contemplation, when the mind and the feelings are quietened and we become passively receptive in the presence of God, our passivity is a deep and costly form of activity. It is action of the highest human order which always consists of letting go and letting God take on. And when at prayer we are thus receptively passively active so that we let go and let God take on, then it inevitably colors and gives wings to all we are and do.

Receptively passively active. Those words don't go together in my vocabulary, but I like the sound of them. This idea that listening to God and being with Him is a sort of activity of the highest caliber creates a shift in my thinking. I like that. I like the idea that when I am "letting go and letting God take on", I am doing more in that moment than I ever could in all of my working, striving and trying. If God takes on those things that I have been taking on, then He brings his infinite power and wisdom to issues that I have been stabbing at feebly in my humanity. God can, and does, change in a moment things that I cannot change in a lifetime.

So today, I am trying to walk and live with this idea of receptive passive activity, not as the end of my doing, but as the very highest expression of it. My work giving way to His work. My doing becoming His doing.

This is for all of you activists, producers, and doers out there- you know who you are! May you also know the grace and joy this week of being receptively passively active, and may you find that more is happening in these moments of "doing nothing" than you and I ever imagined.

To Him who is able to do exceedingly and abundantly more...

Nick

The Writing Experience

As many of you may already know, I have just begun a 7-week sabbatical to work on a book. While I fully intend to take a break from church, leadership, being a pastor, and going to the office, I can't stop sharing thoughts and insights along the way. So, keep checking back regularly as I'll try to post a few times a week during the writing journey. I'd be grateful for some dialogue, particularly as my normal level of interaction with real human beings will be way down these days. As long as I'm staring at my computer screen, I might as well have some real people to interact with.

Anyway, today I've been thinking a great deal about the process of writing itself. Writing is a bit like breaking glass. You begin with a perfect, clear piece of glass in your mind's eye. The minute you begin to throw words on the page, that crystal image shatters into a thousand pieces and falls to the ground. The writing process, then, can be a painful experience of picking up each piece one at a time, turning it over in your hand, and deciding how it fits back into the grand design. You keep doing this- analyze and place, analyze and place- until you eventually have a picture that at least vaguely resembles the original piece of glass. I am beginning to think that as an author, the experience of writing can never quite live up to the vision or dream of writing. Maybe knowing to expect this will be enough to carry me through the long days.

I am not sure I'm an author yet, but for me, the glass has certainly shattered! And even though picking up the pieces can by tedious, I am finding the experience to be more enjoyable than I had anticipated. There is a freedom to this rhythm of thinking, writing, reviewing, rewriting and thinking some more that has been a welcome change to the pace of ministry. In church life, nothing ever really feels done. I can't tell you how gratifying it is to come to the end of a page and have a new one begin. The progress is measurable and progressive, even if it times it all has to be smashed again!

I pray that whatever journey you are on, you are finding joy in the process...

Peace.
Nick

Small Prayers Matter, Too

I don't know about you, but sometimes I feel like the only prayers I'm "supposed" to pray are the big ones- prayers for God to change the world, reach the lost, transform a city- epic, earth-shifting kinds of prayers. On some level, I have always felt a little uneasy praying for normal, every day things. Praying for my daily bread, my drive to work, or an upcoming meeting can sometimes feel selfish and small. And yet I can't escape from the truth that God has invited us to pray about all things, thank Him for all things, and trust Him in all things.

So last week, my wife and I were having a time of prayer together before bed. Our hearts have been heavy lately for our oldest daughter Alyssa. She is smart, creative, driven and funny. But these same positive qualities can also mean she is bossy, rude, and defiant. When we see the darker side starting to outweigh the God-giftings she's been given, we start to worry. And we tend to pray more.

As we were praying for Alyssa, one of our requests was along the lines of "selfish and small" in my mind. Alyssa had a sock hop coming up at school and we had no poodle skirt. How do you send a 7-year old to a sock hop without a poodle skirt? And where exactly do you find a poodle skirt? Target doesn't carry them, I can tell you that much. Anyway, this was on my heart, and so I prayed, "God, would you somehow give Alyssa a poodle skirt to show her how much you love her?" I think I prayed it this way because awhile back I had asked Alyssa if she was interested in being baptized. Her response was, "No, because I still do too many bad things." I could hear in her voice that she was worried about how God felt about her. So, this prayer seemed appropriate.

The next day, about 3:00 PM (t-minus 3 hours until the sock hop started), my office phone rings. I usually don't pick up, but I was the only one in the building at the time, so I answered. On the other end, a gal from our church says, "I made Alyssa a poodle skirt for tonight. When can you pick it up?" And at that moment, for the first and likely only time in my life, I cried over a poodle skirt. I was overwhelmed by a sense of the Father's love for my child; my wonderful, obnoxious, learning, growing, faith-filled child. When I went home and presented her with the skirt, I could hardly get through the words as emotion grabbed my throat, "Alyssa, God loves you so much He gave you a poodle skirt!"

On your journey, may you know with absolute certainty that your small prayers matter, too, because you matter. God loves you more than you can comprehend and He loves to hear you ask for gifts from His hand.

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!
(I John 3:1)

Peace-
Nick

PS- The sock hop was fantastic. I think we all danced for joy!