Sorry folks. No new piece of writing came together for me this week. I hope you enjoy this post, originally published in 2013.
God knows my thoughts even before I do.* And having heard all my thoughts, God must have a lot to say. I’m beginning to see that my life is a library full of the other half of my conversations with God.
“[God] speaks not just through the sounds we hear, of course, but through events in all their complexity and variety, through the harmonies and disharmonies and counterpoint of all that happens. . .” writes novelist and preacher, Frederick Buechner, “[but] to try to express in even the most insightful and theologically sophisticated terms the meaning of what God speaks through the events of our lives is as precarious a business as to try to express the meaning of the sound of rain on the roof or the spectacle of the setting sun.” (Now and Then: A Memoir of Vocation).
When I first began the “precarious business” of deciphering God’s messages, I kept listening for what God was trying to teach me. I was sure I was doing something wrong and that God, ever vigilant, wanted to fix me.
Then, in my spiritual direction training, one of the facilitators, Steve Imbach, shared this story.
“Once when I was travelling, I spent a sleepless night on an uncomfortable bed. In the middle of the night I cried out, ‘God, what are you trying to teach me? I’d like to know, so I can learn it and get back to sleep.’ Immediately I heard the inner voice of God reply, ‘I’m not trying to teach you anything.’ That’s when I realized God isn’t always trying to teach us stuff.”
Imagine a long-term relationship with someone who’s only concerned with what they can teach you. There would always be a distance between the two of you, with one feeling burdened and the other inadequate.
Jesus is our teacher, but he is much more than that. He is the Lover and we are his Beloved.* So he expresses his love in many ways: by comforting us when troubled, by bringing reconciliation and healing, and by helping us find meaning and purpose. He enjoys giving us what we need and hides these gifts out in the open for us to find. More than anything else, Jesus loves being with us.
And he keeps telling me that in a God kind of a way–a heart in a mug handle, a finger-painted sunset, a cancelled appointment that gives me breathing room, and a cell phone that survives being run over by a car.
This is my Father’s world.
He shines in all that’s fair.
In the rustling grass, I hear him pass.
He speaks to me everywhere.
— Maltbie D. Babcock, “This is My Father’s World,” 1901.
Weekly I visit a friend in hospital who is slowly recovering from a car accident. Rain or shine, I often find him hanging out in a gazebo outside with a group of people he refers to as “The Smokers Club.” This little community of people in wheelchairs, keep each other going–listening, sometimes ranting, often laughing, certainly loving. I could definitely see Jesus hanging out here; in fact, I do.
What love mischief are you and God doing to care for the earth?
Let me know and I will include it in an upcoming post.
Once again she was on the cross with Jesus. But this time, instead of feeling comforted, her heart cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish? My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, but I find no rest.”
Meanwhile, Deb Arndt, Jeff Imbach and I invited the participants of 
As I listen to directees share their struggles and listen to my own, I notice that there’s a strata to our feelings and desires. Like an archaeological dig, the top layer–the first one we experience–gets our attention. It’s the hurt right under our feet. Archaeologists don’t care about that dirt. It’s where they need to dig, but mostly they need to get it out of the way to find what’s underneath. They shovel, sift and gently brush the soil away to find relics of past civilizations. These give them clues about who we are and what has affected how we live.
It was an arts worship service and the theme was “The Kingdom of God.” Artists at New Life Community Church submitted their creations based on the theme, and we worshiped God with our senses and imaginations. That’s when I first saw Wendy Linnington’s painting Mustard Seed (above). It spoke to me of the seemingly small and unseen kingdom that is within us–potent, powerful and growing. I am so grateful for the love mischief of Wendy and other painters, potters, dancers and singers that open us to the kingdom in tangible ways.
An Everyday Pilgrim 
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand—
when I awake, I am still with you.
–Psalm 139:13-18 (NIV)