NOT Thinking!

Living like a temporary Nomad is an exercise in letting go.  Living on a “need to know” basis easily fans the illusion of independence.  I’m surprised by how readily I crave the security of knowing my next move so I can feel in control!  The Lord is saying, “You are in what feels like upheaval. Don’t be afraid NOT to think about it.”  Hmmmm, now there’s a fresh idea!  What would happen if I stopped thinking about circumstances?  Isn’t it obvious?  The thoughts that chase me in circles have no power to change the situation.  Yes, I believe I’ll take a new approach – I won’t think about it anymore.

A different approach is being offered and I get to prove its validity…again!  I’m receptive because even though the language is familiar I know I haven’t mastered the message.  In lieu of thinking about my situation I will observe it and remain quiet by keeping all judgment far away from it. I will give the fresh approach a chance to reveal its own value.

I am happier when I notice, watch, and learn from “what is” rather than thinking about how I can change “what is” into something else.  The key to higher thinking is in NOT thinking – so room is made for God to fill the space with His higher thoughts.  I may think my current condition needs to change.  God thinks it’s perfect just the way it is.  I think it’s bad.  He thinks it’s good.  I think it’s hurting me.  God thinks it is healing me. I think it’s standing in the way of my journey.  God thinks it is my journey.

Thoughts are addicted to the abstract of change. They look at a situation – judge it good or bad – then immediately analyze remedies and improvements.  The reason thought can’t help is because the truth is…nothing needs to change.  All is as it should be.  The compulsion to change my circumstance is rooted in the illusion of an incomplete nature.  Judgment uses the feeling of being incomplete to strengthen the false need for change.  I end up trying to change the very things that are in my path to perfect me.  Struggle is a part of the process.  I live in perfect imperfection where both impotence and capability become divine manifestations of Christ in me – they work together to bring me to maturity.

Not everyone sees the power of weakness; many shun frailty or pass judgment on the flawed by demanding change (ultimatums rarely work).  I would not want to miss the budding life of Christ in anyone (or in any one area of their life) simply because the full fruit is not yet hanging on the vine.  If I’m going to take the liberty of judging a tree by its fruit then I’d do well to make sure I’m looking past the flesh and deep into the heart – remembering that God alone knows the heart of man.

Relationships that are judgmentally abusive are not healthy; they keep me “thinking” I need to improve.  If I still judge myself, demand my own change and punish myself when I’m incapable of producing it, then I will take that same abuse from others.  If I believe I’m defective, I’ll stay close to those who help me to feel bad about myself.  The abuse will feel normal because it is mirroring my own opinion.

Nothing needs to change – which doesn’t mean that nothing changes.  Change happens; but I believe how change happens is often misconstrued.  I remember when someone was tired of my apologies.  I was repeating the same mistakes even though I vowed to change.  I was told, “Susan, change isn’t change until it’s changed.”  I was dismissed for my inability to manufacture change.  Here I am (decades later) and I find the statement is true; and yet to complete the saying I would add, “change isn’t change until it’s changed…and it isn’t changed until the lack of change has changed all it hopes to change in me.”  In other words, I can’t change simply because I want to.  There is a greater work in motion and I do not control the seasons.

When I consider that nothing needs to change then I enter the atmosphere where change can occur. I rest, for God is continually at work in me causing me to will and to work for His good pleasure.  He who began the work is faithful to complete it.  I trust the finished work of the cross and the “little leaven” that is leavening my whole being.  I can trust that God has won, and Christ is the life now living in me.  Once I’m convinced that I am incapable of changing myself then I can trust God with this that He calls “me.”  It is THEN that I can walk away from judgment’s abuse and all the thinking that goes along with it!

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Love Conquers

The shadowy fear of loss compels me to meet my own needs, satisfy my own hunger, disguise my loneliness, or fill my own empty spaces. Fear is irreversibly fluxed with greed.  Fear’s solution is always “more” and yet it never satisfies.  The more I do in response to fear the greater the void. Fear consistently alters the face of longing to keep me in a cycle of lust and greed.  I can detect fear by the baggage it demands I carry.  If it cannot kill me, it will distract me; if it cannot distract me, it will depress me; if it cannot depress me, it will find another way to disqualify me.  Fear will anesthetize me to the heart cries of the poor and lonely…

Love, however, comes with the reckless message of letting go.  It speaks of singular need and finds satisfaction in Christ alone.  Love convinces me that every need is met and there is nothing I need outside of who He is in me.  Every answer lies within.  Love demands nothing; it never makes me feel incomplete or defective.  It always comes with the assurance of the finished work that is waiting to be seen.  Love conquers fear.  Love finds its way into all things and reveals itself at every angle.  Love moves me toward others assuring me that in Him, I too am love.  Love is every solution; it conquers all…including me.

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Calcutta?

I blog for simple reasons…I have unanswered questions.  Something in me needs to bridge the gap between the vibrant life of Christ and the life He seems confined to live through me.  There is a gnawing unrest, a discontent that pushes me to keep looking for some “missing” piece.

I was raised Catholic, answered an altar call at a Billy Graham crusade, was baptized in a Baptist Church, met the Holy Spirit in a Charismatic Church, discovered biblical integrity in a Word of Faith Church, learned to hear and to trust my union with Christ at Visionwriters – still, restlessness remains.

I’ve had seasons of rest, moments of fulfillment, and the periodic sense of purpose – but an underlying dissatisfaction is never far from the surface.  I’ve wondered, “What’s wrong? Have I missed something?  Does anyone else feel this way? Am I defective?  Is everyone else content?  Why do I still feel hungry? Am I malnourished? Overfed?”  I’ve felt ”used and burned out” at the same time that I’ve felt ”under-utilized and unchallenged”.  Inside, I cry.

A few years ago, I sat with a homeopathic doctor to look at my blood and diagnose potential health problems. We never got further than my informational chart.  When asked my occupation, I entered ”office manager”.  The doctor couldn’t have known how unhappy I was in my job.  I loved the ministry I worked for, but was deeply dysphoric with my function.  I felt bound to my position and didn’t know how to get out.

After reading my job title he simply stated that the job was draining my life and that it was crucial to my health and well-being that I quit. His insight was uncanny; he spoke many things that confirmed what my heart was telling me.  It took a couple of years to let go of the job; but there was one thing he said that day that broke my heart with its clarity…and continues to do so to this day.

I held the pivotal words close; I shared them once and received a disagreeing smile.  Embarrassed, I pulled back, downplayed the words, and privately asked God to show me who I am.  What did the doctor say?  He said I have ”an uncommon compassion” – the kind that ranks with ”Mother Teresa” – and that a ”hurting world” is ”crying for me to leave the office” and to find my own “Calcutta”.  The words still humble and haunt.

The words seem contrary because I can appear selfish.  Not knowing what to do with what I often feel, I get overwhelmed and I shut down.  Years of depression were shamed by a belief that self-pity fueled its presence.  True, I need an outlet for the compassion that feels so heavy – and yet in tender revelation I can also see that depression can be a form of intercession on behalf of those who bear unbearable sorrow. I often feel detached from my own emotions and so I wonder how I am so easily anguished by the pain of others.  I cry more easily for you than for myself; even movies can bring uncontrollable sobbing.

Having been raised in the All American Church, I long for a new view, fresh approach, and greater scope.  Can I understand union with Christ and not become His literal hands and feet in this world?  I want the actuality of the gospel and would guess that my missing piece is linked to my need to help others in a tangible way.  Lord, lead me to the Calcutta of your choosing…

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Easy Steps

Every urge to fix myself is a temptation designed to thwart faith and strengthen the illusion of independence.  I am provoked to prove an identity that does not exist.  Temptation tries to move me into a position of separated thinking.  Dismissing the urge is a continual lesson in letting go.

The enticement to take matters into my own hands or to try to make something happen is subliminal.  Beliefs below the threshold of conscious thought continually incite the effort to manufacture change.  If I take the bait, faith is undermined by inevitable failure.  Failure is inevitable because the flesh cannot replicate the freedom of the spirit.  I’m weary of trying; the need to prove any thing is disappearing.

Goaded steps or even those that resemble a parent coaxing a child feel unnatural.  I want steps that are confident and relaxed.  I want natural steps, or none at all.  Life’s too short to keep calculating steps in a vain effort to prove potency.  I will take the steps that arrive with clarity – with no mental effort, strain or manipulation.

When I hear a word I won’t presume it to be an invitation to perform.  I will not translate words into laws or allow the mind to assign meaning to that which only my heart has heard.  Words spoken in my heart are spirit and life; they supply their own freedom of movement and their action isn’t noticed until I am already in motion.

Argument and logic need not agree with my action.   Although the mind loves to analyze situations (so it can take credit for outcomes) it has no role in decisions of the heart.  An unsubdued mind resists the submissive role it plays in a life of true union.  It takes time, but my soul is bowing her knee to the “knowing” deep within.

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