Here I am Lord

I am preparing for leading Bible study tonight. The first part of this week is focused on being called to redeem, or our role in carrying out God's redemptive plan. It got me thinking about my favorite old hymn, Here I am, Lord. I can remember being so young, like six or seven at the oldest, and singing this song to myself or being so delighted when it would be included in mass. It's hung with me through everything - my many years outside of the church, my doubts, everything. Whenever I would feel really lost or alone, I would sing this song.

So here it is (lyrics below):

I, the Lord of sea and sky,
I have heard my people cry.
All who dwell in dark and sin,
My hand will save.

I who make the stars of night,
I will make their darkness bright.
Who will bear my light to them?
Whom shall I send?

Chorus:

Here I am, Lord. It is I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night.
I will go, Lord, where you lead me.
I will hold your people in my heart.

I, the Lord of snow and rain,
I have borne my people’s pain.
I have wept for love of them.
They turn away.

I will break their hearts of stone,
Give them hearts for love alone.
I will speak my words to them.
Whom shall I send?

(chorus)

I, the Lord of wind and flame,
I will tend the poor and lame.
I will set a feast for them.
My hand will save.

Finest bread I will provide,
Till their hearts be satisfied.
I will give my life to them.
Whom shall I send?

(chorus)

Had to Share

Every once in awhile during Bible study I will come across a paragraph or verse that makes me want to jump out of my seat and shout 'Amen!' This morning, I had one of those moments and I just had to share it. So here it is (marked like my book):

"I wrote my first Bible study about modern-day idols and called it, No Other Gods. One of the main characteristics of serving false gods is that we must constantly downgrade our expectations of them. We start with high hopes and dreams that a certain idol will deliver happiness, excitement, and well-being to our lives; but because a false god is false by its very nature, our expectation must continually be lowered until we're in total bondage to something that doesn't even resemble anything close to what we had originally hoped. But not so with one true God. With Him we find the opposite. The more we get to know Him, the more we trust and serve Him, the more our expectations ascend and our realities bloom."

And then I wrote three "Amen!"s in the margin.

One of the things that strikes me the most about my relationship with God is that I find the above paragraph to be true and my logical/atheistic flesh absolutely cannot explain it. How so?

I have unquestionably worshiped approval, achievement, beauty and success. All of which, at least to some degree, I have been successful in attaining. And the process of that attainment, has always left me feeling in bondage. Bondage to long hours of work, diets, tied to a mirror or the shopping mall, weighed down by the scale. Even during times of success, the debt looms large. Nothing is satisfying.

Yet, when I started worshiping God and following Jesus, I have found myself freer and freer. This worship has not asked unreasonable things from me. Nor has my belief disappointed me. In fact, the very opposite has proved true - I have gained more happiness, peace and contentment from the decision to worship Christ that I have from any other of my pursuits.

Now if there is no God, there is no explanation for this. This worship should look like all other earthy pursuit and ultimately fail to satisfy. In fact, because my worship would be entirely empty, it should prove fruitless even more quickly than most false idols. How can you explain how belief in a non-existent god can transform more radically than belief in yourself? belief in tangible rewards? belief in accolades? belief in relationships?

The short answer for me, is that I can't. I can't explain me, who I am now, without God.

Love you all.

The Down-side of Redemption

I have been in a really rocky place for the last few weeks. I think David has been too. This move is bringing up all of our insecurities and neither of us is feeling particularly equipped to help the other. We also look at each other with a little resentment in our eyes - thinking "This is MY time of need here. Aren't YOU supposed to be helping ME? Isn't that why I got married in the first place, so that I would have help when I needed it?"

In case you were wondering, what I have just written out there is sin. Not sin the behavior (i.e., murdering, lying, stealing, sleeping around, etc.), though that is the type of sin that gets the most press; but real sin, or the true nature of sin, the sin in our hearts. Pride. Selfishness. Entitlement.

When that part of our nature shows, we are pretty ugly and unloveable. I want to remind myself, that no where in my vows did it say anything about loving David so long as he helped me out, or did what I needed when I needed it. Nor does that even seem reasonable when you consider the fact that marriage is about two people becoming one. Hello! If your both the same person, your pains are going to be his pains; your time of need is going to be his time of need too. How is it possible for this tit-for-tat (or complimentary - as it is more euphemistically put) mentality supposed to work when you share joys, failures, brokenness, stress, and pain?? You both have the most to offer at the same time, and the least to offer at the same time - it's not going to work.


And it is at this moment, when I am working the irrationality and unfairness of my desires through, that I come face to face with my limitations. When I come face to face with my own sin. My own bankrupt state. My selfishness prohibits me from being there for David. My entitlement stops me from thinking I should. My pride emphasizes his short-comings and minimizes my own.

I need a goel, a redeemer, one whose love is far deeper than my own, to supply me with what I need right now. Because, quite frankly, I don't have much love to offer, much forgiveness to give out, much humility to spare. I think what I am, very much of the time right now, is one big gaping need. I need love, I need forgiveness, I need security, patience, mercy, softening. I need, need, need, need, need. NEED.

And I, frankly, I am pissed about this! And isn't it David's job to fix this?? And why, when I am them most desperate, is he the least available? And, and, and, and, and.

'Oh, honey,' I hear somewhere down in my spirit, 'he is never going to satisfy you, and you, you're never going to satisfy him. Those shoes are far too big for either of you to fill. Stop trying to get what you need from him and come to Me.'

And I wrestle with this, because it means growing my faith. Relying on Deity that I cannot see or prove or verify or sue if He lets me down. I also cannot offer anything in exchange, I can only humbly receive, a powerless, vulnerable position if ever there was one. But this is the option. The only option that will work.

This is the down-side to a goel, to redemption. We must admit that we can't do it and we don't have anything to offer. We must have faith and humility. Our pride and self-righteousness and entitlement can't come.

Goel Follow-Up

I was perusing the short videos created to go with the Ruth study this morning. The videos are called "The Living Room Series" because its basically footage of a the author and her group of girlfriends sitting around talking about the study.

Normally, I like them - but this one I LOVED! I don't want to say too much before you watch - so take a look and then I'll tell you what I loved about it.


Ruth: Loss, Love & Legacy Week 3 from April Dace on Vimeo.



Ok - so what do I love.

(1) The exchange about the homemade whipped cream, sliced strawberries and purchased cake. There is something about friendship there - especially when the girl said "What she meant to say was that she grew these strawberries herself" that just makes me smile. It reminds me of the ease, comfort and intimacy of closest my female friendships.

(2) When Kelly mentions that we need to remember that God is the author of social justice. As a psychologist, I hear this term thrown about quite a lot. Used by people who know it is the right thing to say, but have absolutely no heart for the matter at all. They are interested in creating another in and out group actually: the competent - of which they are clearly a part - and the incompetent. I love being reminded that Our God is all about social justice in earnest. Inviting the slave to the table since the beginning. It makes me breath a little easier.

(BTW: I know she says Christ, which might get some of your panties in a knot about timelines - but I think she means Christ, as in the Word that has existed since before the foundation of the Earth; and if she doesn't she should - because the book of Ruth takes place before Jesus walked the Earth).

(3) Finally, I absolutely LOVE the part where one of the women asks if they will explore why Boaz did those things for Ruth. It is so revealing about us ladies - She says "Why? Was she really attractive? ... Was Boaz really desperate to get married? Was she really beautiful?"

OH HEAVENS! Can you see our sickness all over that??? The options are "she's either gorgeous or he's desperate!"And before you think I am condemning this woman, you must know that I have thought THE SAME THING! Despite the fact that not one shred of Scripture supports the interpretation that any of this story has to do with Ruth's physical appearance, I just assume she must have been beautiful to have "caught Boaz's eye." Thus, I see myself and our broken culture and how I still, clearly, have some healing left to do.

I also think it reflects how broken we can be in our understanding of redemption. I mean, we just don't get grace at all. Our first question, when talking about a redeemer, is essentially "What did she do to deserve it?" And the answer is plainly: nothing. She did nothing to deserve it. She could not earn it. If she could, that would not be redemption. We just don't speak redemption.

Anyway, somethings to chew on. I love you.

Goel - The Kinsman Redeemer

Do you know what I love - literature with multiple layers.

I first realized this sophomore year of high school, when we read Wuthering Heights for the first time. As we discussed the text in class, I realized that there were several stories within the story- the story of Heathcliff and Catherine, the story of wealth and poverty, the story of fickleness and circumstance. All of these stories wrapped up into one book. I felt so engaged, I could read the same book 5 times and explore different things each time.

One of my favorite things about the Bible, is that it is just the same. And whats more, though each book has a story about specific people, at a specific time, doing specific things - each book also has layers of meaning and depth. And what is even more incomprehensible, is that in someways each book tells one story - Christ's story, the story of redemption.

Now all 66 books have this story, but I am presently reading/studying the book of Ruth. Ruth tells the redemption story through a Cinderella tale that begins with tragedy and ends with the birth of a son. In the middle, we get up close look at a man named Boaz. The look at Boaz tells us things about Boaz, but it also tells us something about the Jewish culture, something about Christ and something about God.

What Boaz teaches us about Jewish culture, is about the role of "goel". Specifically, in Leviticus God sets up a redemption plan for wayward Jews who through unfortunate circumstances or bad decisions end up in debt. God ordains that a blood relative may act as "goel" (literally meaning "the one who redeems") or "kinsman redeemer" by purchasing lost land or paying off debt. From what I can tell, this was a revered position, intended to provide second chances for broken people. There were four qualifications for a goel: (1) They must be a blood relative, (2) They must have the ability (in this case the money) to redeem, (3) They must be willing to redeem (its a choice) and (4) They must be willing to marry the widow of their kinsman and bear a child in their name. Boaz is the image of the Jewish culture's goel - he can, he does, he marries, he redeems. Very knight in shining armor like.

By acting as a goel to Ruth and Naomi, Boaz also teaches us about the ultimate Goel, our Goel, Jesus. Look at those qualifications - He must be one of us (Philippians 2:6-8), He must be able to redeem (have the ability to pay the price for sin; 2 Corinthians 5:21), He must be willing to redeem (choose to pay the price for sin; Luke 23:34) and He must be willing to marry the widow of sin (the Bride of Christ, Revelation 19: 7-10).

Finally, Boaz teaches us something about God (this is my favorite part!). Specifically, God has been writing the redemption story from the very beginning. Leviticus, the portion of the Bible laying down the rules and identity of the goel, is a part of the Torah - the sacred Jewish texts thought to be written by Moses himself. Ruth was also written chronologically, early on - most likely book #8. God has been telling us, how this was going to happen since He's been speaking. It's never changed - not once.


There is something so beautiful and secure about that. That God has been saying the same thing to people for thousands of years. That we can mess it up, miss interpret it, get confused, get angry, get lost, whatever - He's still saying the same thing. I will redeem you. There are second chances. You don't have to be capable, or earn it, or deserve it - I will provide it and we will be married (joined, merged, united in an unbreakable bond). Let me show you in this role. Let me show you again in this story. Let me show you with My Son. Let me show you with your life.

Oh Lord. Thank you. What I beautiful story You are telling.

To Write Love on Her Arms

I was watching Life Today this morning and they were featuring a new author named Gabe Lyons and his book "The Next Christians." There are a lot of truly compelling stories in this book, but one jumped out about some Christians that formed an organization call "To Write Love on Her Arms." They sell t-shirts to support treatment for those with depression and addiction. Here's a link to their website.

During the show, they told just enough about the story that began the organization to get me looking. A few minutes of googling and here's what I found (just have to share it because it's so beautiful):

Pedro the Lion is loud in the speakers, and the city waits just outside our open windows. She sits and sings, legs crossed in the passenger seat, her pretty voice hiding in the volume. Music is a safe place and Pedro is her favorite. It hits me that she won't see this skyline for several weeks, and we will be without her. I lean forward, knowing this will be written, and I ask what she'd say if her story had an audience. She smiles. "Tell them to look up. Tell them to remember the stars."

I would rather write her a song, because songs don't wait to resolve, and because songs mean so much to her. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness. These words, like most words, will be written next to midnight, between hurricane and harbor, as both claim to save her.

Renee is 19. When I meet her, cocaine is fresh in her system. She hasn't slept in 36 hours and she won't for another 24. It is a familiar blur of coke, pot, pills and alcohol. She has agreed to meet us, to listen and to let us pray. We ask Renee to come with us, to leave this broken night. She says she'll go to rehab tomorrow, but she isn't ready now. It is too great a change. We pray and say goodbye and it is hard to leave without her.

She has known such great pain; haunted dreams as a child, the near-constant presence of evil ever since. She has felt the touch of awful naked men, battled depression and addiction, and attempted suicide. Her arms remember razor blades, fifty scars that speak of self-inflicted wounds. Six hours after I meet her, she is feeling trapped, two groups of "friends" offering opposite ideas. Everyone is asleep. The sun is rising. She drinks long from a bottle of liquor, takes a razor blade from the table and locks herself in the bathroom. She cuts herself, using the blade to write "FUCK UP" large across her left forearm.

The nurse at the treatment center finds the wound several hours later. The center has no detox, names her too great a risk, and does not accept her. For the next five days, she is ours to love. We become her hospital and the possibility of healing fills our living room with life. It is unspoken and there are only a few of us, but we will be her church, the body of Christ coming alive to meet her needs, to write love on her arms.

She is full of contrast, more alive and closer to death than anyone I've known, like a Johnny Cash song or some theatre star. She owns attitude and humor beyond her 19 years, and when she tells me her story, she is humble and quiet and kind, shaped by the pain of a hundred lifetimes. I sit privileged but breaking as she shares. Her life has been so dark yet there is some soft hope in her words, and on consecutive evenings, I watch the prettiest girls in the room tell her that she's beautiful. I think it's God reminding her.

I've never walked this road, but I decide that if we're going to run a five-day rehab, it is going to be the coolest in the country. It is going to be rock and roll. We start with the basics; lots of fun, too much Starbucks and way too many cigarettes.

more Thursday night she is in the balcony for Band Marino, Orlando's finest. They are indie-folk-fabulous, a movement disguised as a circus. She loves them and she smiles when I point out the A&R man from Atlantic Europe, in town from London just to catch this show.

She is in good seats when the Magic beat the Sonics the next night, screaming like a lifelong fan with every Dwight Howard dunk. On the way home, we stop for more coffee and books, Blue Like Jazz and (Anne Lamott's) Travelling Mercies.

On Saturday, the Taste of Chaos tour is in town and I'm not even sure we can get in, but doors do open and minutes after parking, we are on stage for Thrice, one of her favorite bands. She stands ten feet from the drummer, smiling constantly. It is a bright moment there in the music, as light and rain collide above the stage. It feels like healing. It is certainly hope.

Sunday night is church and many gather after the service to pray for Renee, this her last night before entering rehab. Some are strangers but all are friends tonight. The prayers move from broken to bold, all encouraging. We're talking to God but I think as much, we're talking to her, telling her she's loved, saying she does not go alone. One among us knows her best. Ryan sits in the corner strumming an acoustic guitar, singing songs she's inspired.

After church our house fills with friends, there for a few more moments before goodbye. Everyone has some gift for her, some note or hug or piece of encouragement. She pulls me aside and tells me she would like to give me something. I smile surprised, wondering what it could be. We walk through the crowded living room, to the garage and her stuff.

She hands me her last razor blade, tells me it is the one she used to cut her arm and her last lines of cocaine five nights before. She's had it with her ever since, shares that tonight will be the hardest night and she shouldn't have it. I hold it carefully, thank her and know instantly that this moment, this gift, will stay with me. It hits me to wonder if this great feeling is what Christ knows when we surrender our broken hearts, when we trade death for life.

As we arrive at the treatment center, she finishes: "The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope."

I have watched life come back to her, and it has been a privilege. When our time with her began, someone suggested shifts but that is the language of business. Love is something better. I have been challenged and changed, reminded that love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we're called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding. I agree so greatly.

We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true.

We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don't get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won't solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home.

I have learned so much in one week with one brave girl. She is alive now, in the patience and safety of rehab, covered in marks of madness but choosing to believe that God makes things new, that He meant hope and healing in the stars. She would ask you to remember.

Learning to Trust

I have a confession to make - I am terrible at trusting. Terrible. I mean it - TER - I - BULL.

I do love... truly and deeply. But without trust, what starts out as love gradually develops into resentment. Why? Because I feel alone. I feel like I give and give and give and get little in return. And though I think in some sense that is true (I really don't receive too much), it's not because people aren't trying to give me anything.

Think about it like this: Love is like a wrapped gift, you have to unwrap it to fully receive it; but without trust, I am too scared that whatever is in there is not going to be something I like or worse yet is going to be something that hurts me. So I end up with piles of unwrapped gifts, many of which I am too suspicious of to even keep in the house (maybe there's a time bomb wrapped up to look like love) and others I admire from the outside, grateful to have received the gift but unwilling to really open it.

Can I be honest? This is a sucky way to live.

Now my Jackie would say something right about now, like "Paula, you are feeling this way right now, but you're actually doing much better at this." And she would be right. God has done some work, sent some people who I generally trust enough to open their packages. Not all of them of course - if they look too big or extravagant they sit around collecting dust or get the "too suspicious" label and get shipped out. But I have been doing much, much better.

This, of course, is a huge stumbling block in my relationship with God. Because, guess what, God sends bigger packages then anyone I've ever known. Let me give you some examples:

(1) Radical sacrificial love

Romans 5:6-8 You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. 

(2) Infinite love

Ephesians 3:14-19 For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of His glorious riches He may strengthen you with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord's people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge - that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

(3) Empowering love

Galatians 5:22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

Huge packages - HUGE. My nature is to slap the "too suspicious" label on those before they even get to my house. The minute they are suggested! Years ago, I had such a venomous response to those claims - "yeah, open that box and you'll find hand cuffs and all your dreams washed away" or "I know what comes in that wrapping paper, cruelty, judgement and condemnation." Basically alarms going off everywhere! My heart spinning in my chest - screaming "GET THAT OUT OF HERE! IT'S GOING TO BREAK ME!"

And it does break me when I let it in.

I can still see my generally controlled self standing in church next to my father and one of our worship leaders singing "Oh, How He Loves Us." My heart thumping so hard it felt like it my pop out, a lump so huge in my throat I could not sing and tears dripping off my chin. My flesh screaming - NO, NO, NO!

So this year, I've been focusing on learning to trust. I have a strong suspicion this going to take more than one year - but I am leaning in. Memorizing scripture related to trust.... and I just want to say (maybe to those of you who face similar struggles) it's hard. Definitely the hardest thing I have ever had to do. But I believe... I trust ... that it will be worth it.

I love you.