Further Up and Further In

To some of you reading this post, it might seem a little strange. The experience was new for me and a little strange at first. If you're not too sure about who God, who Jesus really is, it will seem really strange. I invite you to read this, or not. Feel free to ask me questions; I just wanted to share what God has been doing in our lives this weekend.

In C.S. Lewis' The Last Battle, the children enter into heaven at the end of Narnia's time. As they do, one of their group cries, "Come further up and further in!" They continue on and find each part of the new country to be more beautiful and big than they could have imagined.

I've known Jesus for a while now, been part of his kingdom, stepped inside. However, this weekend Patrick and I were able to take part in a "further up and further in" experience that showed us more of how beautiful life with Jesus can be.

On Saturday and Monday, Patrick and I took part in a prayer time with Isaiah 61 Ministries (If you live in the area, we definitely encourage you to check them out. If you don't, reading some of the testimonies is pretty amazing). They are a ministry who believes that Jesus still heals and sets people free TODAY and that he has given believers authority to break patterns of sin, consequences of sin passed down through our families, and any holds Satan might have on us.

I have to admit that when I first heard about this type of ministry, I was skeptical and kind of freaked out. Sometimes, I think it is easier to think we're independent Americans: we determine our own destiny, we're not affected by our pasts, evil spirits can't really keep us down...right? Well, I know that while I know and love Jesus, I have struggled with fear for years and as you've read, been affected by physical symptoms for the past six months. I had heard a girl from our church tell how God had healed her of multiple food allergies, and she wasn't weird, and I knew my in-laws respected the couple who runs the ministry, so we decided to step out in faith and give this thing a try.

In a really beautiful setting in the woods (a little cottage with comfy couches they use for these prayer times), Roger led us through three different sessions. In the first, he asked a lot of questions about our applications, getting a sense of our pasts/ancestors, our struggles, our experiences, and our relationship with God. In the second session, he led us in a prayer to say "no" to the consequences of sin that had been passed down to us  or that had been our choice and to forgive anyone we needed to. In the third session, he prayed calmly and firmly over any evil spirits that may have been keeping us from living in complete freedom with Jesus.

I know it sounds strange, but it was not a scary, weird, or "out-there" time. We experienced some very real healing (spiritually, emotionally, physically), and I have a few reflections as I look back at what I learned/experienced in the past few days.

• Jesus is so sorry. After Roger led me through processing some painful memories/struggles, we paused to pray and ask God to reveal himself. The image I saw was so beautiful and intimate, I didn't want to share it when he asked, and I was brought to a lot of tears. In my heart, I saw Jesus: hand on either side of my face, forehead pressed against mine. He was saying he was sorry, sorry for the pain. He then bent down to kiss my heart, then my belly. I felt a blessing over my past scars and my future child. What a sweet, sweet gift. 
• There is an order that God has created that is more important than I realized. Roger spoke a lot about Patrick's God-given authority over me and over our home. He prayed for Patrick first, asked Patrick's permission to minister to me, had Patrick step in a certain times to pray. As a "thoroughly modern" woman, this can seem strange or even backwards. However, there was security in knowing that I am not in control, and that I have a protector. It was amazing to see Patrick's rise to confidence/God-given leadership, and there were several times when I didn't feel at peace until Patrick was the one to pray for or against something. 
• The spiritual world is real, something I deny far too often. The thing Satan wants most is to sink us down in despair, frustration, strong patterns and lost thoughts. He wants us to think that these things are all our fault. Evil is real and can affect us. I experienced definite release from evil several times during our prayer time and feel more at peace this morning than I have felt in many, many years. 
•  We inherit consequences from sin, sometimes from generations and generations back. This was a new concept for me. I had always thought that once you knew Jesus, you could just move forward from there. In many ways, this is true. However, many of the things we struggle with, even as believers, are things we had no control over receiving. Jesus came to break consequences of sin that we did not choose, but we need to say "no" to them and ask him to free us.
• Finally, and most importantly, we have authority as followers of Jesus that we rarely exercise. I had just assumed that if something bad happens to us: we become sick or struggle or get hurt, we could only beg God to act or deal with what hand we are given. This isn't true! The idea is pretty revolutionary to me. I can say "no" (because of Jesus and in the power of his name) to sin, to wrong thinking, even to pain. For example, I learned I can say, "In Jesus' name, the pain in my hand needs to stop. It has no right to be there." It still feels weird, but God has given us power as his children and through his Spirit. The early church walked this way all the time. It's a very new idea for us though, one we'll be sorting out for a long time...

So, there it is, to the best my words can describe it. I hope you take the questions you might have about what we experienced to God, to us, to others you trust. It was a different experience for me too, but one that I believe has given God more space in my life. I hope more than anything though, that you too would know in increasing measure the freedom that we have in Jesus, the hope we can hold on to, and the love God wants to pour out in our lives if given the room to do so. Happy Tuesday!

On Naming and Claiming...

At lunch on Sunday, Patrick and I played the Baby Name Game while waiting for our food to arrive. Sorting through the "yeses," "nos," and "maybes," I was reminded of the power of naming, a concept I'd wanted to explore in writing/speaking for a while now. Since according to my "summer-is-here-I-need-some-structure schedule" Tuesday is blogging day, I thought I'd try to work out some of my thoughts.

The first meeting of the school year, we were handed copies of an article by crime prevention and youth advocate Jack Calhoun called "Who is Naming and Claiming Our Kids?". It outlines how our most vulnerable children are those who are anonymous, those who have not been given an identify by anyone close to them.  He tells the story of a jailed girl who experienced her name being used in a positive light for the first time when she worked with special needs children. Another story, one that has stuck with me the entire year, was about a young murderer who said, "I'd rather be wanted for murder than not wanted at all." Calhoun goes on to say that if we don't name the children in our world, they will find those who will give them names/identities, often gangs.

Later in the year, I received one of my favorite Christmas presents ever, a slim volume of poetry by Lance Odegard called At the Pool We've All Got Bodies.  One of my favorite poems is called "Songbird." In this poem, he describes a homeless woman who visits their church, quiet and nervous and refusing to give anyone her name. "Who or what had/turned it against her, I wondered -- and what is a person/without a name?" Odegard decides to gift her with the name Songbird. The poem ends, "Shifting her feet, she said, You can call me by that name." 

Both of these have stayed with me this year and made me think, How am I naming those around me? How am I living out my responsibility of naming as one made in the image of God? 

For our God is the God who names. He names all things good. He changes Jacob's name. He reveals himself through the names he gives his people to use for Him. He calls Israel by name. He names Simon "The Rock."  At the end of all things, he'll give us a new name on the belly of a smooth white stone.

Humans have followed suit, image-bearers naming from the beginning of time. Adam named the animals, even Eve. The Israelites would name their children, their wells, their lands to reflect their interactions with God. Saul received a new name when he was filled by a new Spirit. To this day, some are given new names as they commit to life in faith-communities like convents and monasteries. Naming is POWERFUL for naming reflects and shapes reality.

How are we naming those around us? Are we naming our enemies Cursed instead of Somehow Beloved? Our children Failures instead of Full of Incredible Potential? Difficult coworkers as Obstacles instead of Opportunity? Our spouses as Frustrations or Sanctifying Gifts?

Am I naming my neighbors In Need of My Benevolent Help or as Able to Receive and Bless?

You see how we name determines how we act. If I see my neighbors as the first, I will feel superior, safe, and self-satisfied. If I see them as the second, I will have to be vulnerable, to listen, and to receive my rightful place as human just like them. I will act upon the identity I bestow. You will act on the identities you bestow! 

May you reflect on who and how you are naming these days. May you name with love, grace, and hope. We have great power; may we name well today.

Introducing Baby Weaver...

We wanted to share our sigh of relief... and some sweet pictures of our little one. Yesterday at our ultrasound appointment, they figured out why all of the bleeding was happening. It was a subchorionic hemorrhage, basically a small bruise between the sac the baby is in and the uterine wall. It has to either be absorbed by the body or let out by bleeding. There is only a small bruise left, and it should resolve itself by 18 or 20 weeks. We are praising God for his goodness and for concrete answers about scary, scary symptoms.

Here are a few photos from our ultrasound (a blessing we weren't going to get until 20 weeks!) to share. The baby has his/her back to us, but you can see the little feet, a hand, and an ear. The last picture is of the hands. We can't wait to meet this little one! Thanks to all of you for your prayers.

Gifts That Didn't Make the List

My birthday is coming up on June 17th. As people have started to ask me what I want, I've come up with a few things: supplies so I can learn to knit, a pedicure, a bathrobe. I love gifts, giving and receiving them, so these lists are fun to make. I'm learning, however, that sometimes, the gifts that are the most precious, the most necessary, are gifts that didn't make the list: gifts that are cut-to-the-bone painful and ones that I would have never asked for myself.

Yesterday we had our second trip to the hospital for unexpected and very scary bleeding. The first trip was last Tuesday, 3 hours away from home in Williamsburg. I was with some friends at a timeshare, resting after a girls' day out shopping. I was terrified and shocked. But the gifts were there, equally surprising: friends holding my hands in an ER at night, my first ultrasound and the baby moving wildly, Patrick making the drive fast enough to be with me as I was released, a friend who had woken up in the night to pray for me--moved by the Spirit to remind me He was aware, a message from a former teacher praying for us.

The days that followed were a blur: a lot of resting, reading, crying out to God, and experiencing various degrees of pain. A group I'm part of is currently reading 2nd Corinthians. Reading it for the first time in the Message, I found my next set of gifts:

We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That's to prevent anyone from confusing God's incomparable power with us. 

So we're not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace.

And now, isn't it wonderful all the ways in which this distress has goaded you closer to God? You're more alive, more concerned, more sensitive, more reverent, more human, more passionate, more responsible. Looked at from any angle, you've come out of this with purity of heart.

 I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations...I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ's strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become. (All from The Message, 2nd Corinthians)

That brings me to yesterday. We had our follow up appointment in the morning. The gifts there were evident: clearance to go back to my normal routine, a wonderful midwife setting up a consult with a specialist at UVA who knows about autoimmune diseases and pregnancy, my first walk in almost a week under the trees at the Arboretum. We had a restful, hopeful day.

Right before Patrick went to work (another gift), I began bleeding again...a nightmare on replay. We were checked out at the hospital and sent home to rest. I have another follow-up this afternoon. We are feeling a little like shipwrecked sailors: battered and worn, waiting for a break in the storm. YET, there are gifts still. Today as I rest while Patrick is away at work, I hold on to a special gift from prayer-gifted Kate, the amazing sister of one of my best friends, Kristen. In praying for me, she was given three images: the word Elohim (the name of God that means Creator, strong one), a light bulb, and a house with three roofs. She wanted to let me know that I am sheltered, extra protected by the strong God we serve. When I shared this with Luke, my father-in-law, he said quickly, "The three roofs-- The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!" What a merciful God we have!

I thought about writing this post later today, after we know more at our appointment, after things were more stable. But I felt led to give God glory NOW, in the midst of another scary day of waiting. I have been given another day to be this sweet baby's mama. I will thank God for that, and whatever other gifts that might be coming my way, asked for or not.

Expectations

I recently bought a brand-new teal planner. As seems fitting with my transition at work, my Skyline planner is about to run out. In July, I can start scribbling dates on pages topped with little tropical scenes. It was the best $6.97 I've spent in a long time. As I started to fill in appointments for the next several months, I was struck by how far away December seems. Some days it seems as if we'll never make it. For those of you who don't know, I've struggled since winter with unidentified connective tissue issues, mainly pain/numbness in my hands, feet, and/or chest. I'm working with a rheumatologist, but it has been a scary journey for someone so high control (and high anxiety!). Pregnancy has made some of the symptoms and a lot of the fear worse. My body no longer "plays by the rules."

As many pregnant women probably do, I began thinking about Mary. About how she was a mother, yes, but more how she was a teenage Jew. She had grown up hearing whispers of the Messiah, the one who would restore the oppressed nation of Israel to the glory intended for it. God had been silent for 400 years. Now, she and Jews everywhere were only nine months away from the realization of their dreams. She was not awaiting just her child, but the birth of an entire new era. How long those months must have seemed!

However, as I kept reflecting, I wondered how Mary felt when she held an impossibly fragile Messiah. When she fled to Egypt with his hot cheeks against her chest. When she watched her son executed, blood of her blood draining from a hole in his side. I wondered if she longed for the days she had wished to pass quickly, the days when the Messiah spun quietly in the safety of her womb. Did she wish then for the nine months of waiting, seeing the time as blessing instead of curse.

I wonder if I will wish the same when this time of pain and anxiety is over. Is there blessing in this time that I will long for? Will I miss the nearness of God, the knee-bowing humility that has fallen over me, the feeling of smallness and desperateness that has helped me understand for the first time in my life Jesus as burden-bearer and man of sorrows? I've noticed it already. On days when I have been pain free, I often did not think of Jesus until the end of the school day. He can slip to the fringes of my consciousness. On days when fear comes thick, his name is on my lips almost constantly.

I told Patrick last night that this was a scary ride and that I wanted to get off. But, I think God has more for me than this. My friend Kristen once told me a story of her friend who had lost her husband. A mutual friend of theirs had asked the woman what the hardest time of the day was for her. She replied the nighttime, when the kids had gone to sleep. The friend had said, "Then God has something special for you in the nighttime. Don't miss it."

I am going to believe that God has something special for me in this time of pain, of waiting, of uncertainty and  lack of control. Instead of praying for this time to pass quickly, I am going to ask for eyes to see what gift God is giving me right now. I do not, do not want to miss it.