Tag: alone

“Oh, That My Words Were Recorded” (Job 19:23-27a)

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year CLeave a comment

“Oh, that my words were recorded,
    that they were written on a scroll,
that they were inscribed with an iron tool on lead,
    or engraved in rock forever!
I know that my redeemer lives,
    and that in the end he will stand on the earth.
And after my skin has been destroyed,
    yet in my flesh I will see God;
I myself will see him
    with my own eyes—I, and not another. (New International Version)

The biblical character Job expressed a feeling that all of us, at one time or another, have likely felt: Longing for someone to actually hear our voice, our words of grief, listen to them, and not let them fall into oblivion as if we were alone on this earth.

Job was hurting like no one before or after him. His grief was palpable. His pain was deep and intense. Not knowing what the heck was going on, he had zero understanding of why complete calamity came upon him.

Job’s family was killed, all but his wife. He lost all his earthly possessions to either theft or disaster. And his body was wracked with painful sores that covered his entire body. He was as miserable as one person could be. It was grief stacked upon grief.

In that misery and pain, after losing everything, Job didn’t want his words to be lost. He wanted them to be heard and remembered. Job needed to know that his voice was real, that he was not just speaking into the air.

This gets to the heart of what every grieving person likely wants: For someone to listen to their story of loss – for that story to be heard, listened to, and taken seriously.

I know the feeling. And I know it a bit more intimately than I would like to.

In this past year I was diagnosed with a health disorder that prevented me from continuing to work in a job I absolutely loved. This precipitated a move to another state to be near family. And there are many more losses and griefs to go along with all the changes in my life.

Going through circumstances that we neither asked for nor wanted is hard, especially when it involves significant losses. Without facing our grief, like Job did, we may end up losing ourselves and becoming lost or stuck in that grief.

Rather than me blithering on about the need for vulnerability, I myself will be vulnerable. One of the ways I accept, cope, and transcend hard stuff is through journaling. Here is a portion of my journal from today, unedited:

“I can feel myself sinking down toward the abyss. The darkness is beginning to overwhelm me. Everything – the changes, the transitions, the grief, the state of all things – is too much.

“Lord, have mercy.

“And so, I write, in the hope that my grief and big feelings of loss and of lostness will somehow fade into the background – not the foreground – of my life. Yes, it’s all a part of me. A very important part. And I never want to disavow it. Yet, it is only a part, and not the whole of me.

“Maybe that’s the thing I need to know and remember this day – that grief is not all of me; doesn’t define me as a person; and need not rule my life. There is some sort of ‘sweet spot’ in all this, in which I vulnerably and forthrightly acknowledge and talk about my grief without stuffing it away into an internal junk closet. But also, I do not necessarily focus on it as if grief is all that I am.

“Rather, I’m (like all other people) a complicated soul made up of many moving spiritual and emotional parts.

“It is ironic that a guy who once talked to grieving people on a daily basis is now grieving the loss of no longer talking to grieving people on a daily basis. Yet, here I am.

“One of the reasons I derived so much fulfillment from doing grief work with others is that it is so very much needed! I live in a society where everyone wants you to be okay, likely because they themselves are so very uncomfortable with grief and don’t know what to do with it. So, many people simply want everyone to be ‘normal,’ whatever the heck that actually means.

“Loss is painful, and no one (including me) wants to hurt. But the pain won’t go away magically. I (and everyone) must face the hurt, walk into and through the pain in order to feel better.

“To open-up to the unique pain of loss is the only way to realize emotional healing. In order to move on, we’ve got to stop trying to move on. Instead, let it out.

“In writing this I’m reminding myself what I’ve told hundreds of patients and parishioners who were going through their own unique circumstances of painful loss. Strength is found in embracing weakness, and not by trying to soldier on as if loss doesn’t bother me. It’s okay to grieve. And it’s okay to grieve any sort of loss. It’s more than okay; it’s absolutely needed.”

Eternally righteous God, merciful judge of all the living: In your love you called us to share the glory of Christ. Strengthen our hearts in every good work and word, so that we may be steadfast in your ways and always believe your truth. Amen.

Seen by God (Genesis 16:7-15)

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year BLeave a comment

The angel of the Lord found Hagar near a spring in the desert; it was the spring that is beside the road to Shur. And he said, “Hagar, slave of Sarai, where have you come from, and where are you going?”

“I’m running away from my mistress Sarai,” she answered.

Then the angel of the Lord told her, “Go back to your mistress and submit to her.” The angel added, “I will increase your descendants so much that they will be too numerous to count.”

The angel of the Lord also said to her:

“You are now pregnant
    and you will give birth to a son.
You shall name him Ishmael,
    for the Lord has heard of your misery.
He will be a wild donkey of a man;
    his hand will be against everyone
    and everyone’s hand against him,
and he will live in hostility
    toward all his brothers.”

She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.” That is why the well was called Beer Lahai Roi; it is still there, between Kadesh and Bered.

So Hagar bore Abram a son, and Abram gave the name Ishmael to the son she had borne. (New International Version)

I’m blind as a bat without my glasses. They’re the first thing I put on when waking in the morning, and the last thing I take off before retiring at night. Without them I can’t distinguish anything very well, at all. I cannot see others unless they are inches from my face.

As bad as it would be if I didn’t have my glasses, it would be even worse if you were not seen by anyone. I believe that one of the great tragedies of modern Western civilization is that we can live among so many other people, yet not be seen by so many of them. The loneliness of not being seen is a terrible situation.

Hagar certainly felt that way. Perhaps even worse, she felt that God didn’t see her. It was as if God lost his glasses somewhere. 

Because a slave, Hagar’s body was not her own. Through a bunch of decisions out her control, she became pregnant with Abraham’s son. It was messy and complicated. Dysfunction was all around. A very pregnant Hagar ran away.

Having been abused by her mistress, we can feel Hagar’s despair… but there was someone watching, someone seeing the desperation on the face of a pregnant slave: God. 

The Lord saw everything – all the craziness, all the mistreatment – and stepped-in and acted on behalf of Hagar and her unborn son.

As a result, Hagar began to call God, “The God Who Sees Me.” She never again had to wonder or doubt whether she was seen. 

You might feel today that God doesn’t see your pain, is aloof and distant from your hurt, and is blind to your deep wounds. But God sees… all of it. The Lord may not be working on the same timetable as you and me, but nevertheless, you are seen with divine eyes.

You “see,” there is someone watching who specializes in hard cases. The Lord came alongside Hagar and spoke a promise to her that she could hold onto in her time of trouble. It was a promise way beyond what she could have dreamed of, far above her station in life.

Hagar gave a name to God. “El Roi” means “the God who sees.” At a low point in Hagar’s life when it seemed she was an unseen nobody, God showed up and let her know different.

I’m sure there have been times in your life, just like there have been situations in my life, where you wonder if anybody sees you, including God. You feel that if you stepped off the earth today, nobody would even notice or care.

Conversely, to be seen brings wonder, joy, and awe into life. To know the God who sees you is to be transported into the garden of paradise, enjoying divine presence and fellowship.

You are not alone. The Lord knows your every move. God watches because God loves and adores you. The almighty Lord is not a god who is aloof and distant. The One true God looks upon you and me with the kind of affection that a new parent has standing over the crib of their infant child. It’s a look of care, protection, joy, pride, and compassion.

One of the most fundamental theological statements we could say about God is: The Lord sees each individual person, and the Lord of all creation cares for each one.

Yes, terrible tragedies and gut-wrenching evil exist in this twisted mixed-up world. And God has anger and wrath, and is not okay with all the injustice throughout the earth. Yet, God’s wrath exists because of God’s love. The Lord will do something about it, and will do it in the proper time.

God is working out good purposes and plans. God will judge the living and the dead. The Lord has not forgotten you. God sees you, created in the divine image and likeness, and will act on your behalf.

Blessed are you, Sovereign God of all, to you be praise and glory forever. In your tender compassion the dawn from on high is breaking upon us to dispel the lingering shadows of night. As we look for your coming among us, open our eyes to behold your presence. Strengthen our hands to do your will, so that the world may rejoice and give you praise. Blessed be you, God almighty. Amen.

How Can the World Change? (Philippians 1:21-30)

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year ALeave a comment

For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me, yet I cannot say which I will choose. I am hard pressed between the two: my desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better, but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for you. Since I am convinced of this, I know that I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in faith, so that, by my presence again with you, your boast might abound in Christ Jesus because of me.

Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel and in no way frightened by those opposing you. For them, this is evidence of their destruction but of your salvation. And this is God’s doing. For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ but of suffering for him as well, since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have. (New Revised Standard Version)

I believe that one of the greatest tragedies of this contemporary age is that millions of people suffer in silence, alone, with nobody knowing what they’re going through. Countless others cry by themselves, even in public. It’s as if someone who is suffering or sad is a pariah whom we cannot get close to.

It is not supposed to be this way. Suffering by oneself is a tragedy. Suffering with others is a privilege. We are not only meant to be one in spirit when things are going well and it’s a joyous occasion; we’re also to maintain that close unity when the world seems to be falling apart and there are those who are profoundly hurting in either mind, spirit, or emotion.

A few years ago, I stood amongst a gathered group of people, most of whom I did not know.  I was there for a memorial service of a fellow colleague. She received the kind of news that no one wants to hear. In a matter of weeks, she was gone. Not every funeral I attend (or even officiate) is beautiful. This one was, and here’s why: It was a collective experience of both joy and sorrow.

I walked away from my friend’s remembrance with a clear conviction – one that had been percolating and forming within me for quite some time.

This conviction might seem exaggerated, yet it by no means is meant to be. It’s just what I have come to believe about the universal human experience.  It comes from the confidence and experience of a lifetime of observation and ministry.

It is neither merely a heartfelt sentiment nor a passing feeling. No, it really is a conviction, a firm principle or persuasion. It is this:

Crying with strangers in person has the power to change the world.

I think I’ve always known this. It just crystalized for me through that experience. After all, I have watched with awe the privilege of walking into a dying patient’s room, full of tearful family, and be with them in their pain.  The sharing of stories is powerful, eliciting both great joy, reminiscent laughter, and profound gratitude; as well as tremendous sorrow, grinding grief, and sad lament. 

Tears and celebration mix in a sacred alchemy producing a kind of care which transcends description.

It’s one thing to observe other’s joy and sorrow on the evening news, or even from afar. It is altogether a different reality to participate up close and personal. It’s something akin to watching a travel documentary on Yellowstone Park versus visiting the place in person; there’s just no comparison. 

Shared human experiences of suffering will nearly always translate into new and emerging capacities for empathy. And where empathy exists, there is hope for all humanity. 

Being with another person or group of people in their suffering creates a Grinch-like transformation in which our hearts suddenly enlarge. A single tear from a singular small little Who girl in Whoville had the power to penetrate years of hardness of heart and change what everyone thought was a shriveled soul full of garlic and gunk.

Said a different way: The spiritual and emotional heart of a human being is able to shrink or expand. It shrinks from spending far too much time alone and/or holding others at bay, at arms-length, while playing the armchair critic to those who are out rubbing shoulders with real flesh and blood people. 

The Grinch never went back to his isolation. Instead, he did what Whoville thought was the unbelievable: The Grinch fully participated in the joy of the community, up close and personal.  It was a full-bore holding of hands, singing, and eating – which illustrates a conviction I’ve held for a long time:

Hospitality, that is, showing love to outright strangers through celebrative participation with food and drink, has the power to change the world.

Hospitality cannot happen from afar. Sitting around the table with strangers and interacting with them is needed. It alters our perspectives so that we live our shared humanity. It is rather difficult to hate someone when you get to know them and discover their loves and joys, hurts and wounds.

This all leads toward asking one of the most fundamental and basic biblical questions that must be asked by every generation and considered by everyone who respects God and/or the Christian Scriptures:

Am I able to see the image of God in someone very different from myself?

The Christian doesn’t have to go very far to answer this one, at least from an objective cerebral perspective.  Jesus saw the humanity in everyone he encountered, from Jew to Gentile, from sinner to saint.  In fact, Jesus saw this image so deeply within another that he sat around the table and ate with people whom others saw as not worthy to eat with.  Jesus’ willingness to participate in the hospitality of strangers was downright scandalous.  It isn’t a stretch to say that it got him killed.

What’s more, Jesus wept. He cried in public with strangers. For followers of Christ who seek to emulate him in his practical ministry, that point ought to be noticed. After all, we choose to remember and participate in the life of Christ through the elements of bread and wine at the Table. God’s radical hospitality toward us is truly meant to translate to an open heart toward those who look and act differently than me.

The great fourteenth century mystic, Julian of Norwich, a female devotee of Christ and an influential theologian in her own right amongst a world of men who tended to see the image of God in women as flawed, understood what it would take to reawake image-bearing humanity. She stated:

“All that is contrary to peace and love — is in us and not in God. God’s saving work in Jesus of Nazareth and in the gift of God’s spirit, is to lessen our wrath in the power of his merciful and compassionate love.”

Julian of Norwich

Don’t think for a minute that suffering with and crying with strangers is an easy thing for me. Truth is, crying is not something I typically do, or even like to do. Yet, constrained by the love of God in Christ, and putting myself in a position to feel with the emotions of others in front of me, I allow those tears to come.

Yes, collective experiences of emotion have the power to change the world. Yet, this occurs only if we show up.  Perhaps that was the reason for the Christian doctrine of the incarnation: Jesus is our Immanuel, God with us, the One who is present.  He showed up, and salvation happened.

And that is what the Philippian Church needed to remember, tap into, and live as one Body of Christ for the life of the world.

1 Samuel 16:1-13 – Solitude of the Heart

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year BLeave a comment

The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you mourn for Saul, since I have rejected him as king over Israel? Fill your horn with oil and be on your way; I am sending you to Jesse of Bethlehem. I have chosen one of his sons to be king.”

But Samuel said, “How can I go? If Saul hears about it, he will kill me.”

The Lord said, “Take a heifer with you and say, ‘I have come to sacrifice to the Lord.’ 3 Invite Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will show you what to do. You are to anoint for me the one I indicate.”

Samuel did what the Lord said. When he arrived at Bethlehem, the elders of the town trembled when they met him. They asked, “Do you come in peace?”

Samuel replied, “Yes, in peace; I have come to sacrifice to the Lord. Consecrate yourselves and come to the sacrifice with me.” Then he consecrated Jesse and his sons and invited them to the sacrifice.

When they arrived, Samuel saw Eliab and thought, “Surely the Lord’s anointed stands here before the Lord.”

But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

Then Jesse called Abinadab and had him pass in front of Samuel. But Samuel said, “The Lord has not chosen this one either.” Jesse then had Shammah pass by, but Samuel said, “Nor has the Lord chosen this one.” Jesse had seven of his sons pass before Samuel, but Samuel said to him, “The Lord has not chosen these.” So, he asked Jesse, “Are these all the sons you have?”

“There is still the youngest,” Jesse answered. “He is tending the sheep.”

Samuel said, “Send for him; we will not sit down until he arrives.”

So, he sent for him and had him brought in. He was glowing with health and had a fine appearance and handsome features.

Then the Lord said, “Rise and anoint him; this is the one.”

So, Samuel took the horn of oil and anointed him in the presence of his brothers, and from that day on the Spirit of the Lord came powerfully upon David. Samuel then went to Ramah. (New International Version)

Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self. - May Sarton

Appearances can be deceiving.

One of the best ways to see beyond mere physical sight is to engage in the spiritual practice of solitude. Solitude is not loneliness but a deliberate retreat from normal routines to be alone with the Lord.

The faith of both Samuel and David were strengthened through solitude. It prepared them for public service and made them godly. Because they had established patterns of being alone with God, they had an inward solitude even when in a crowd. That is why Samuel could have an interaction with the Lord, even when among lots of people.

Solitude is important because it is the true path to listening well.  A person whose faith has been shaped through solitude has an ability to carry on a dialogue with God while, at the same time, having a conversation with others.

Christ’s relationship with the Father was formed through solitude. Jesus was able to have simultaneous conversations with God and people since he practiced solitude on a regular basis. Jesus began his ministry with solitude (Matthew 4:1-11); made major decisions through solitude (Luke 6:12); and taught his disciples to practice solitude (Matthew 17:1-9; 26:36-46).

Solitude is necessary because engaging the world is important. Effective interaction with others requires times of retreat for solitude with God. Solitude as a spiritual discipline:

  • Gives us freedom from the need for constant noise and activity.
  • Allows God to shape our faith rather than conform to the world.
  • Liberates us from other people’s expectations for us.
  • Helps quiet internal noise and racing thoughts so we can better listen to God.
  • Provides the opportunity for reflection upon and preparation for future events.
  • Creates encouraging speech for the benefit of others.
  • Fuels a desire to keep practicing solitude because of its benefit.

Solitude taught Samuel obedience.

Samuel learned obedience through years of solitude with old Eli the priest. “Speak Lord, for I am listening” became a way of life for Samuel, as he was trained in how to listen well. 

Samuel’s greatness as the Judge of Israel did not lie in his original ideas or the initiatives he took, but in simple obedience to the commands of God. Years of obscurity and solitude as a child created the ability to hear and carry-out what the Lord told him to do.

Even Samuel, as godly as he was, could not rely on personal observations about choosing the next king of Israel. Because he had long years of practicing solitude with the Lord, Samuel was able to clearly hear divine speech and anointed the right person as king. Samuel did not trust his own judgment but relied on God’s direction.

Solitude characterizes God.

Christians serve a triune God of Father, Son, and Spirit. God has complete and perfect solitude along with focused engagement with humanity. Through spending time with God, people can simultaneously interact with divinity and humanity.

It is a bit like my wife who began her broadcasting career in radio by simulcasting the AM station in one ear of her headphones, and the FM station in the other ear. She could que a record for the FM station while, at the same time, forecasting the weather for the AM station. Her ability was born of practice and commitment to her craft.  In the same way, we have been given a vocation to engage the church and world, and the ability to have a solitude of heart while interacting with others.

God, unlike us, sees us completely, inside-and-out – which is why we are dependent upon solitude of heart so that we can make proper judgments. God urged Samuel to not look at the outward appearance because this is how wrong judgments happen.

Solitude formed David into a king.

David was on nobody’s short list to become king. He was so far out there as a candidate for the position that his own family did not even think it necessary to have him present for the sacrificial feast. It is just like God to have a way of choosing the people we think would be the least likely to do anything.

Being in the pasture day after day and night after night by himself was just the right curriculum that trained the next king. Shepherding was not a lonely affair for David. It was a rich experience of solitude which developed a solid relationship with God. Out in the field, away from all the wrong judgments of the world, David learned to discern God’s voice – a skill he carried with him the rest of his life.

Solitude is our path to spiritual maturity.

Solitude might seem unrealistic for extroverts, and only something for introverts. Yet, solitude is essential to creating a robust faith in God. The following are some steps toward the practice of solitude and allowing it to bring you into a closer walk with the Lord.

  1. Practice “little solitudes” in the day. The early morning cup of coffee or shower, the drive-time to work, the lunch break, the quiet at night when all is dark and everyone in bed are opportunities for solitude with God to reorient and redirect our lives.
  2. Find or create a quiet place designed specifically for solitude. It might be a room, a closet, or a chair. It might be outdoors. It can be anywhere that helps you be free from distraction and invites you to connect deeply with Jesus.
  3. Begin the day by spending at least 10 minutes alone with God in silence. Over time, work your way to even more minutes, even hours. I am a believer in an hour a day keeping the devil away. Eventually, take an entire day away, every few months. Consider taking a weekend or even a week away once a year.
  4. Read Holy Scripture slowly and meditatively. Listen to what the Spirit may be saying in your reading.  Keep a journal handy and write down your observations. Allow prayers to arise from what you hear from the Lord.

This might seem optional only for those with discretionary time – but it is no more optional than planting in the Spring to get a harvest in the Fall. Such fruit results in the slaying of giants….

**Above photo by Rakicevic Nenad on Pexels.com