How Long?

Father, our hopes are drying up
just like the earth,turned to dust;
just like the leaves,shriveled to paper.
No sign of change; no rain.
How long must your people
wither, shiver in thirsty air
that claims all moisture as its own?
Tears are gone with the wind.
Our hearts ache and find no solace.
How long must our eyes burn,
longing, searching the horizon
for some glimpse of hope?

Slap the violent out of their arrogance!
Pull their stolen chairs out from under
their fat bums, grown gross 
from slurping up the profits of the poor!
Nail them to the crosses they’ve erected
for the innocent, judging them guilty
for their names or point of view!

How long, dear King, our Father?
We know you rule the universe.
Let us see your justice—
we beg this of you! Hear our prayer:
this petition signed in anxious trust . . . 
all our hope is in you!
 
I wrote this lament in 2010, in Côte d’Ivoire, where we were living in the northern region still held by rebels who had gained that territory in 2002. They were without compassion, cruel. But so was the government that still ruled the south! There were too many northerners trying to find new hope by going south who were then killed by police or soldiers as “suspect,” since they had a “northern” last name. It was hard to know how to pray. How could justice be done in the middle of such a mess?

Psalm 13 gave me structure for my personal lament. And Psalm 75 gave me hope; it underlines God’s sovereignty and his judgment of the arrogant and those oppressing the poor.

Praying the Word has increasingly become a rich foundation for my prayers. The practice comes in different forms, depending on the context and purpose. Each time it gives guidance in praying according to the Lord’s direction.

One warning: when choosing a Scripture text on which to base such a prayer, you need be careful to not take it out of context in such a way that its message is falsified. Once when I was a guest at a church I had never visited before, the pastor urged anyone in the congregation who had a need to speak their words and whatever they said would happen, that need would be met, that wish fulfilled. The text they were to base their prayer on was this:

So tell them, ‘As surely as I live, declares the LORD, I will do to you the very thing I heard you say: (Num. 14:28 NIV)

People went forward, claiming this as their promise. The pastor had not given them the context, or the following verse:

In this wilderness your bodies will fall– every one of you twenty years old or more who was counted in the census and who has grumbled against me. (Num. 14:29 NIV)

The “promise” was that their words of refusal to enter the promised land would be exactly what they would get in return: no entry, just wandering and death! It was a curse, not a formula to follow to manipulate God!

One way to practice praying Scripture on a solid basis is to benefit from the careful work of those who have done thorough research to give useful examples. Kenneth Boa’s books, Face to Face: Praying the Scriptures for Intimate Worship (two volumes), have guided me for years. I use them as I begin my daily quiet time. Boa explains that he based the daily collections of Scripture texts on the eight forms of prayer found in “The Lord’s Prayer”: adoration, confession, renewal, petition, intercession, affirmation, thanksgiving, and closing (from Matthew 6:9-13).[1] He has personalized verses that fit in each of those categories. Every day has a new collection, and I find that they help me not to leave out adoration, or confession, for example, from my prayers. Great reminders!

Adele Calhoun, as usual, puts the purpose of the practice in meaningful terms: “Praying Scripture is a way of entering deeply into the text with a heart alert to a unique and personal word from God. Words and verses that catch our attention become invitations to be with God in prayer. When our prayers seem to be more about maintaining control and offering God our agenda for his stamp of approval, praying Scripture can return us to a simpler state of openness and attentiveness to God.”[2]

It is way too easy to make our prayers only petitions or intercession. I have been learning to broaden the scope, but also to listen carefully to texts that the Lord wants me to use with truly personal application. While doing lectio divina, the text that captures my heart as I concentrate on a Scripture section becomes a focus of prayer as well. This past week one highlighted for me was Romans 7:4:

So, my brothers and sisters, you also died to the law through the body of Christ, that you might belong to another, to him who was raised from the dead, in order that we might bear fruit for God. (Rom. 7:4 NIV)

I underlined the words that became increasingly meaningful to me as I meditated on them, then prayed them back to my Lord, Messiah, personalizing them like this: “You, the resurrected one, the living Christ, you wanted me to belong to you! And you have this purpose for me, now that I am yours: you want me to bear fruit for you, you who are God. I want to do that. I want to do what you want me to. What are you putting before me today? How can I bear fruit today? How about in the future, the immediate or long-term?”

This has put me in a place where I am paying much more attention to the promptings that come my way. I’ve already seen him set up a connection for encouraging a young woman in her growth, one I did not expect. He knew it was coming! When it opened up, I knew immediately it came from him, that it was fruit he wanted me to bear.

Praying the Scriptures is also a practice in the prayer group that Glenn and I attend at our home church, Highland Park Baptist. At “Oasis” on Wednesday evenings, church leaders present a passage and ask for discussion, then open it up for prayer based on the verse or verses just covered. Right now we are slowly going through the book of James. At the end of the session, we divide into small intimate groups to apply the principles in more personal prayer. It is rich. Instead of dealing with long carefully crafted petitions that take over a “prayer meeting,” we focus on God’s Word to us in that moment.

While researching this practice I found a great resource: how to do Scripture-based prayer for a people group that does not yet have the whole Word in their language. It is on the Wycliffe Bible Translators’ site. Since Bible translation is the ministry the Lord led me into, for the least-reached Nyarafolo people in northern Côte d’Ivoire, I deeply appreciate their suggestions for how to pray for a people that does not yet have all the Scriptures, even if you do not have immediate updates and don’t know that much about what is happening. These are the basic steps:

“So when words fail you, open up the Bible and allow God’s words to be your prayer. Here are a few tips that can help get you started:

Find a quiet place to connect with God.

Begin by praying a Scripture that prepares your heart for connecting intimately with God. (Suggestions: Hebrews 4:16, Psalm 119:118)

Use a verse or passage to shape your prayer. (Example: “Lord, the whole earth is yours, and everything in it! The world and all its people belong to you—including the __ people. May they understand the depth of your love for them today” –based on Psalm 14:1)

Allow imagery from Scripture to influence your prayer. (Suggestion: Revelation 7:9-10)

 Turn a verse into a first- or third-person prayer.

Pick a verse and declare it as truth for a people group or nation.

Ask the Holy Spirit to help you pray. (He helps us in our weakness, and pleads for believers in harmony with God’s will – cf. Romans 8:26-27)[3]

May we all make progress in praying as our Lord wishes, as we pray his own Word back to him!

[1] Boa, Kenneth. Face to Face: Praying the Scriptures for Intimate Worship. (Zondervan Publishing House: Grand Rapids, MI, 1997), pp. vi-vii.

[2] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005), p. 246

[3] https://www.wycliffe.org/prayer/how-to-pray-scripture-back-to-god

Waiting for Breakthrough

We are like Joshua, like his crowd of followers,
circling, circling the walled city in silence,
hoping, crying out from our souls
only to You, Master of the Universe,
to break through those daunting walls.

People shout from inside, defaming you.
They do not know you. They do not feel
your loving arms around them.
All they have are huge thick walls.
So they assume they are just fine.

We have to trust, circling in silence,
that you will do what you have promised:
crush those walls and break on through
in your own timing. It will be a miracle
and we will cry out shouts of praise!

So we wait and keep on walking, 
walking with You, Your hand holding ours,
the path before us clear, unchanged---
circling, waiting, heart-eyes fixed on You.
And walls will crumble down.

A few weeks ago I got a call from a friend at my church, Margaret Hadley, asking me to join her on a prayer walk. Prayer walking is her passion – her book, A Prayer Walk through Washington D.C., came out in 2020. Now she is working on a marathon-length walk here in Michigan. Would I join her in the initial segment, a walk up Woodward in Detroit?

I live in Detroit and have come to love it. I am also a walker, and combining prayer with motion is delightful to me. So the two of us walked seven miles together from the Detroit River Walk, where Woodward Avenue ends, up to 7 Mile Road. Margaret was leading the event and had brought prayer prompts, the first verses of several psalms. They helped, but mostly we talked to the Lord about what we saw on our journey out loud, eyes wide open so that other pedestrians would see us as just engaged in conversation. We passed medical buildings, universities, restaurants, bars, churches of all kinds, beggars, families, and eventually neighborhoods. There was so much to lift up to the Lord of the Universe as we contemplated the needs of this city. At the end of the walk my feet were sore, but my heart was happy. Yes, there are many needs, but there is also hope. And it is our Lord who can break through all walls and bring change.

It brought back memories of another time years ago when my friend Cecilia Fueslein drove me to key sites in the city (the weather was cold) and we prayed together for its “peace.” I had recently become a resident of Detroit; she had a longer history here. We both really wanted to see change, and an evangelistic event was on the horizon. The Word says:

Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the LORD for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.” (Jer. 29:7 NIV)

Peace and prosperity are attempts to try to express the word “shalom” in the Hebrew. It includes concern for the welfare of the city, its health.

Another time, back in Ferkessédougou, I had joined some missionary coworkers in walking around the Baptist Hospital, praying together for God to do what seemed to be miracles. It was going through extremely hard times, and our hearts were deeply burdened. Praying together for its welfare, and against the Enemy attacks it was experiencing, we were united in asking for breakthrough. And recently we have seen that beginning to happen!

It all reminds me of the way Joshua and his people walked around Jericho (see Joshua 5 and 6).

By faith the walls of Jericho fell, after the army had marched around them for seven days. (Heb. 11:30 NIV)

They were told to be silent, and only to shout on the seventh day after the seventh time the city had been circled that day. But the fact that the ark of the covenant was with them, seven priests carrying trumpets that also sounded at that critical moment, showed that they were counting on Yahweh’s presence and action. What would I have been crying out in my heart if I were among that crowd of people following the army, circling a city that hated me and my Master? How would I have handled my fear? I’m sure I would have been desperately calling out to him “in silence” with my inner voice. The people had not seen a city of enemies experience that kind of spiritual warfare. It was so scary, but they obeyed and exposed themselves to anyone guarding the city, on its walls, to walk all those days!

Prayer walking is truly a form of spiritual formation, and more and more Christian groups are practicing it together on university campuses, in cities and in neighborhoods. Our church uses the warm summer weather to take prayer walks in the community surrounding it. When someone asks a question that opens up the opportunity to talk, you are encouraged to ask if they have something they would like to ask prayer for. But mostly it is just about walking two by two, praying out loud as we pass different venues and people, asking the Lord to do his work in that community.

Often my morning walks in my neighborhood involve meditation, or prayer for dear ones near and far, but there are also many times when the Lord prompts me to pray for people I know as I pass by: a woman whose son was killed, an immigrant family from Africa, a woman involved in witchcraft, a friend who does not know Jesus yet. He continues to prompt me to pray for spiritual movement toward true knowledge of the Jesus Way, to actually know him. It is part of my current learning curve as the Lord pushes me to pay attention to the world around me and to walk with him in it, not just alone with my preoccupations and my intent to exercise!

One huge difference that this practice makes in my walk is remembering that he is right there with me—practicing his presence. When I walk with a partner, the same thing happens: we are not just two or three humans covering the distance together, but we are talking with the One who is the focus of our conversation. He wants us to pray, everywhere, constantly:

And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. (Eph. 6:18a NIV)

And wherever we go, he is with us:

Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. (Ps. 73:23 NIV)

The right hand is symbolic for action, so this is not only about the comfort, guidance and protection we

need. It is also about doing what he wants us to do. Like praying “with all kinds of prayers”.

I appreciate this simple three-point outline that applies to this practice:

  • Prayer-walking lets our context shape the prayers we pray.
  • Prayer-walking reminds me of the vast opportunities around me and the finiteness of my resources.
  • Prayer-walking enables you to engage real kingdom work in your vicinity, in a location where there may not be many (or any) other Christians.[1]

We can take prompts from what we see, what we hear, and from any of our senses. The ancient broken sidewalks in Detroit remind me that this city is broken and needs healing. I pass an old man, hunched over and limping; he needs prayer. I pass the home of a friend who is a missionary now on the field; even that is reminder to pray for her. I see kids’ toys out on the sidewalk and pray for their welfare, and for spiritual blessing on them. A police car rolls slowly by and I pray for them as they protect the people, for wisdom and integrity, and salvation! Leaves fall and I am reminded of passing seasons and the brevity of life. So I ask God to work in me and through me in the days I have left.

When God lays a word from Scripture on our hearts, we can let it structure how we intercede for people and for our interactions. One pertinent example is the commandment to love our neighbors. So as we walk and pray, we can ask him how we can show that love in words and actions.

Where we know there is evil at work, we pray against it.

Knowing that a community has deep spiritual needs, we pray for breakthrough, for openness to the Good News. It matters.

When we think about lurking danger, we can remember that we are protected by the One with whom we are walking:

You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. (Ps. 139:5 NIV)

As Adele Calhoun says in her excellent book on spiritual disciplines, what I must desire when practicing prayer walking is “to align myself, while walking in particular places, with Christ and his intercession for the kingdom to come.” So it includes “deliberately walking through places for the purpose of intentional and listening prayer . . .seeing places through Jesus’ eyes.” [2]

Yes, I need to grow in my ability to see places and people through Jesus’ eyes, talking with him about them as we walk together. And where there are walls, he is the one who can make them crumble down!

[1] https://www.cslewisinstitute.org/resources/the-prayer-walk/  By C.S. Lewis Institute on January 1, 2021 Series: Covid-19, C.S. Lewis Institute

[2] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005),  253

Letting Go

So I walked up to him
stretched out my arms
and laid it gently 
in his lap, where
it glistened like an emerald
in the throne’s radiant light.

And, though my fingers lingered
to caress it as they left,
I took my hands off
resolutely
and brought my eyes to his.
They locked, and I could go,

knowing that he understood,
and cherished my dream too,
and in his care 
it would be safe. 
Even if it’s hidden
and my aching hands are empty.

“Hands off” is not easy to accept. But how else can one “let go” and “let God” work? But there are times when it becomes obvious that there is no way to control a situation. Then the only solution becomes clear:

Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken. (Ps. 55:22 NIV)

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. (1 Pet. 5:7 NIV)

Throw concerns onto him! Now that sounds disrespectful, walking up to the throne of the King of the Universe to give him something I find too heavy a load to carry, or something hurting me. But he loves me and actually wants me to do that!

In fact, if I don’t, I am trying fruitlessly to do what only God can do. Holding on to it, I become hopeless. Letting go, I come to the One who can do way beyond what I dream.

Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long. (Ps. 25:5 NIV)

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen (Eph. 3:20-21 NIV)

When in a situation that seems hopeless, there is only one Person to turn to, and he can work powerfully within us to give us peace and hope. V. Raymond Edman calls this the “discipline of desolation.” That sounds like the opposite of hope, doesn’t it? “Thus it is with the desolate heart: utterly withered, but God; and thereby life, with its emptiness and futility becomes filled with eternal realities. Companions and comforts may be consumed like smoke, but the Savior remains, the Compassionate Christ, and in him we have more than enough.”[1]

That feeling of desolation can lead us to let go, to relinquish our hold on that situation and turn to the one place where we can find true peace. Thomas Merton, in his prayer for this kind of relinquishment, asks for the ability to seek God perfectly, “to have a will that is always ready to fold back within itself and draw all the powers of the soul down from its deepest center to rest in silent expectancy for the coming of God, posed in tranquil and effortless concentration up the point of my dependence on Him; to gather all that I am, and have all that I can possibly suffer or do or be, and abandon them all to God in the resignation of a perfect love and blind faith and pure trust in God, to do His will. And then to wait in peace . . .”[2]

Good words: desolation that leads to relinquishment, and resignation. Peace.

I wrote that poem “Letting Go” about 25 years ago, and I am still waiting for the Lord to finish what he is doing in that situation. But over and over he has reminded me to trust him, to leave my desperate concern with him. Realizing over time that I’ve been grabbing it back, I lay it down again on his lap, and that is when I can continue my journey, waiting in peace.

Practicing “relinquishment” is actually a life-saver. It brings peace, while “holding on” to what cannot be controlled is constant hurt and frustration, hopelessness.

As a missionary, I had to say many goodbyes. I considered those some of the hardest requirements of my calling. God did tell us to honor our parents, right? But he also told us not to hang onto anything as more important than what our Lord is calling us to do. I was only about four when I realized that my own mother had needed to choose to follow God’s leading rather than her own mother’s preference. Our family had recently arrived in Congo when she got a telegram informing her that her mother had passed away. And her mother had not wanted her to be in ministry, far away. Mom’s tears, and her perseverance, were a model for me. She loved her mom, and had told her so, but she loved God most of all. And she knew that now that her mom was with the Lord, she would understand. Still, the goodbyes were hard, the one when leaving and the one when that telegram arrived.

That is why Jesus said those hard words: “If you want to be my disciple, you must hate everyone else by comparison — your father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters — yes, even your own life. Otherwise, you cannot be my disciple. (Lk. 14:26 NLT)

Hard words. But that is what living out “Lordship” means. He must be in control, when we yield ourselves to him as Master, the one in charge. Not me, but God. And when I know that he is the Sovereign King, and truly loves me, and promises to be my Shepherd and care for me, then I can rest in peace. And wait.

I remember a day when I was in seminary, studying Hebrew, when the class was dealing with how to understand this verse:

But I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content. (Ps. 131:2 NIV)

The men in the class were confused about why the psalmist would liken himself to a weaned child. I realized that I was the only one there who had breastfed babies, so I raised my hand and shared the truth that makes it meaningful. Before being weaned, when the mother holds the baby to comfort them, they will root around for that source of milk. It is the weaned child who will just nestle against the mother’s chest for comfort; that is enough.

I have calmed and quieted myself, like a weaned child who no longer cries for its mother’s milk. Yes, like a weaned child is my soul within me. (Ps. 131:2 NLT)

When I have calmed myself and left my cares on God’s lap, I am content. He will take care of me and of my concern. Letting go, relinquishment, is trust. And that is our calling!

The LORD is my strength and shield. I trust him with all my heart. He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy. I burst out in songs of thanksgiving. (Ps. 28:7 NLT)

[1] Edman, V. Raymond. The Disciplines of Life. (Wheaton, Illinois: Scripture Press Foundation, 1948), 118.

[2] Merton, Thomas. New Seeds of Contemplation. (Abbey of Gethsemani, Inc.: New Directions, 1961), 46

Meditation on Broken Sidewalks

I was just walking briskly in the early morning light
when I let my eyes shift left, forgot to lift my feet,
and tripped on a ridge of ancient sidewalk, 
falling on rocks and pebbles
embedded in decades-old cement.
Ouch! Not again! Knees throbbing . . .
Yes, again! Whenever I look away
from your directives, Abba, 
even for a moment,
it’s so easy to stumble.
I really need focus, inner eyes
wisely contemplating what you say, 
avoiding the distractions
that only trip me up. Your smooth path
is mapped out in your Word;
your Spirit prompts the application
to the journey you’ve laid out,
personalized, for me to travel.
There are times when I’m to take
a different path, avoiding danger.
Leave the sidewalk; walk in the street!
You know what lies ahead, and eyes on you,
I can find that way you’ve leveled
just for me, walking with you.

I love walking alone just after dawn in these ancient Detroit streets of my neighborhood. Later I join walking partners, but the quiet moment when I start off, walking briskly while meditating on what I’ve just been reading in the Word, is a blessing. Some sidewalks here were put in place over 100 years ago and require careful attention to unexpected cracks and angled ridges—it’s why most of the time we walk in the streets here! But today I forgot to be that careful. I fell, and I’m dealing with scrapes and painful bruises.

That brought to mind a verse that had required much digging into meaning and vocabulary options in the West African language, Nyarafolo, a few days ago. (Yes, I’m now back to working as an exegete in Bible translation, using the Internet to help my Nyarafolo translator draft passages!) My fall was making this verse unexpectedly relevant! Was this a prompt from Abba?

The path of the righteous is level; you, the Upright One, make the way of the righteous smooth. (Isa. 26:7 NIV)

What does it mean to walk a level path? Aren’t there usually rocks and unexpected bumps in the road, especially in the African countryside, a little like these city sidewalks? When the Lord makes the way smooth, how does he do it as we walk forward in our lives? There are traps and challenges, right? However, I can understand that the path my Lord has prepared is the right one.

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.(Prov. 3:5-6 NIV)

Forgetting to watch out for those not-level ridges today was a powerful object lesson. If I’d just kept my eyes on the path, then moved onto the pavement to avoid this rough patch, I would not have fallen. If I stay on the straight path, the righteous path, doing what the Lord says to do, I will be walking in the right direction without straying. I kept meditating on the applications as I moved ahead.

It turns out that is an example of practicing meditation as spiritual formation. That practice has taken on other meanings in our world, especially as its use in Eastern religions has gained the spotlight. Christ-followers have different goals, the main one being “simply a loving attentiveness to God. Through the prophet Isaiah, God urges us to ​‘Incline your ear, and come to me; listen, so that you may live.’1 Listening is the key. Hear the life-giving counsel of Francois Fenelon: ​“Be silent, and listen to God. Let your heart be in such a state of preparation that his Spirit may impress upon you such virtues as will please him. Let all within you listen to him. This silence of all outward and earthly affection and of human thoughts within us is essential if we are to hear his voice.’2“

Through meditation we are growing into what Thomas à Kempis called ​“a familiar friendship with Jesus.”[1]

Paying attention to the Voice, listening—staying tuned in does mean preventing the distractions of life from interrupting that intimate connection. So it does include detachment, but Christians do it for a different reason:

“If the believer disengages from the distractions and allurements of the world, it is in order that he/she might engage with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Unlike eastern meditation, which advocates visualization in order to create one’s own reality, Christian meditation calls for visualization of the reality already created by God. Unlike eastern meditation, which advocates metaphysical union with ‘god’, Christian meditation calls for spiritual communion with God. Unlike eastern meditation, which advocates an inner journey to find the center of one’s being, Christian meditation calls for an outward focus on the objective revelation of God in Scripture and creation. Unlike eastern meditation, which advocates mystical transport as the goal of one’s efforts, Christian meditation calls for moral transformation as the goal of one’s efforts.”[2]

The practice has been promoted in the Scriptures for centuries:

Keep this Book of the Law always on your lips; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it.  (Jos. 1:8 NIV)

Within your temple, O God, we meditate on your unfailing love. (Ps. 48:9 NIV)

I will consider all your works and meditate on all your mighty deeds. (Ps. 77:12 NIV)

Oh, how I love your law! I meditate on it all day long. (Ps. 119:97 NIV)

My eyes stay open through the watches of the night, that I may meditate on your promises. (Ps. 119:148 NIV)

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable– if anything is excellent or praiseworthy– think about such things. (Phil. 4:8 NIV)

And there are many more. Thomas Merton, a pilgrim who has gone before us, clarifies the goal this way: “This is the real end of meditation—it teaches you how to become aware of the presence of God; and most of all it aims at bringing you to a state of almost constant loving attention to God, and dependence on Him.”[3]

The world around us has many lessons for us, often revealing truths that take our understanding of the Word even deeper. Once, for me, it was a spider hanging on a fragile web in my “Sacred Grove” back in Ferkessédougou: I realized that the Lord was telling me to “hang in there,” just trust him with how to get through a fragile situation. When we go to the beach for rest, I need to have a notebook and pen handy; I am amazed at the new things made clear each time by waves, undertow, even garbage scattered around. Sometimes it is the sight of people with a particular gift, activity, or even need, that trigger insight into a Scriptural principle and how to apply it.

As Adele Calhoun says, putting ourselves in a posture of “seeing beyond a first glance and first impression to the heart of God” and “experiencing calmness, serenity and quietness stemming from an awareness of the presence of God” are examples of the God-given fruit of meditation.[4] To accomplish this we have to pay attention, our mind and the eyes of our heart focused on his nearness and intention.

What is Abba showing me today? Am I watching? Am I really listening? Am I ruminating on what he has been showing me in his Word? Have I been making space for him to speak into my life, quieting the noise all around me so that I can meditate on his acts, his commands and his promises—even his character? Do I want to stay on the smooth, level path he has prepared for me?

It’s far better than stumbling or straying!

[1] Foster, Nathan.  The Making of an Ordinary Saint. Excerpt published by Richard J. Foster in “Understanding Meditation,” https://renovare.org/articles/understanding-meditation . Footnotes: [1] Isaiah 55:3
[2] Quoted in Foster, Sanctuary of the Soul.

[2] Storms, Sam. Quoted in https://www.crosswalk.com/faith/spiritual-life/10-things-you-should-know-about-christian-meditation.html.

[3] Merton, Thomas. New Seeds of Contemplation. (New York: New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1972), 217.

[4] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005), 170.

Keeping Aligned with the Word

When all is said and done, the basics rule.
The way to walk from here to there is clear:
release my arrogance that claims the right
to choose my path and act out of my fear

and wait, instead, for God to take his pen
and twist the plot, for good, because I’m his.
Meanwhile my work assignment is mapped out:
guard justice, always do what’s right, and this—

to keep my heart aligned with his true Word,
maintain love in my world, love him, draw near.

When I was a child growing up in Congo, my parents had a little box full of Bible verses on cards. One breakfast ritual was pulling them out after we had finished eating to review the ones already memorized and to begin learning a new one. I was the oldest child, so I usually took the lead. I had no idea that so many of those verses were going to shape my life, especially these:

Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you. (Jas. 4:8 ESV)

I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you. (Ps. 119:11 NIV)

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; 6 in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight. (Prov. 3:5 NIV)

Back then they were all in KJV, getting updated in my mind over time as I dug into other translations. But the meaning was rooted in my heart. I longed to be closer to God then ever before, to draw near to him, and I knew that that would require knowing him through his Word.

Then, during my second year of marriage, I lost my first pregnancy in the seventh month, a devastating blow. I took time off from work, and turned to John 17 for comfort. Jesus had prayed for me as well as his disciples, and he longed to keep on making himself known to me and to fill me with his love. I was being embraced even in a time of grieving by memorizing this chapter, contemplating its richness:

25 “Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. 26 I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.” (Jn. 17:25,26 NIV)

Once I became immersed in the project of Bible translation I was forced to study the meaning of texts in a deeper way than ever before. Working through 1st and 2nd Peter woke me up to treasures there that I knew I needed to “hide in my heart.” I memorized them. Doing that gave me focus on the spiritual growth that Peter was promoting, and aligned my heart increasingly with what matters to my Lord.

It was something I had never thought I would do: memorize whole books. And I found out that I did not have the great long-term memory I had hoped for. Unless I kept on repeating the lengthy sections out loud, I could not remember the whole chain of thought.  Nevertheless the process forced me to contemplate each verse and its connection to the context while I was working on it. I was deeply nourished.

During the last two years a partner in our mission led anyone who wished to join in memorizing James, then the Sermon on the Mount. Wow! Some of you may have noticed that during that time, my blogs usually focused on what I was learning and applying from those passages.

Adele Calhoun points out that the motivation that incites one’s practice of memorization is the desire “to carry the life-shaping words of God in me at all times and in all places.” [1]Yes, that is it! The goal is not to show off or to earn rewards, although that often helps kids work at it. As a disciple of Jesus, yearning to know his heart and his instructions, it is about plunging into a passage in a way that will root one’s heart more firmly in the Word. Repetition of the teaching forces you to think about it.

I have experienced the Lord’s voice convicting me of false assumptions and behaviors. And he has also encouraged me to focus on spiritual growth in new ways, as in these verses:

His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. 4 Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires (2 Pet. 1:3 NIV)

Knowing him—yes, that is my goal. But I had not meditated on the fact that he has given us everything we need to live a life deeply attached to him, even to the point of participating in the divine nature !

This spiritual practice is not one that fits every phase of life. Sometimes attention is drawn in other directions through life pressures and requirements. But I can testify that it has been a discipline that has truly helped me “to keep my heart aligned with his true Word, to maintain love in my world, love him, draw near,” as expressed in the introductory poem. What I’ve learned is to notice the pull of a certain passage, whether it is through my own study or a group memorization effort, and to then hide it in my heart. I am not the only one! My mother-in-law memorized all of 1st John in her 90s, joining a project in her church. She had some failing memory issues, but was devoted to the Word, and made it through! That was one of the reasons I dove back into memorization, myself.

It is one way to journey with the psalmist:

Oh, how I love your law! I meditate on it all day long. (Ps. 119:90 NIV)

If you would like to profit from John Piper’s blog on the key importance of this process, visit https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/memorizing-scripture-why-and-how . He quotes both Dallas Willard and Chuck Swindoll, underlining that memorization is “absolutely fundamental” to growth, and extremely rewarding. I agree!

[1] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005), 176.

The Solitude of Two

The solitude of two:
Not me alone,
though I am closeted,
the door pulled to,
and only I sit in my lair.
It’s me and you,
and you are everywhere.

My heart’s a waiting place
anticipating your venue.
The world is narrowed
to a cell, to give you space
to do your work in me.
And all is well
when we keep company.

Have you ever wondered how to have a “prayer closet,” a private space free from people’s eyes and from interactions? It was a dilemma for me in Ferkessédougou, Côte d’Ivoire, a family living with us, our homein a courtyard surrounded by other courtyards, including the town square across a road constantly filled with huge trucks parked for respite on their long trips north and south for commerce.

Then I discovered my early morning “sacred grove,” under golden rain trees. But how about when it was raining? Sometimes I would settle for my bedroom window, a bamboo chair pulled up close for air and a view of nature. And sometimes I would head to the big meeting-place gazebo in our back yard, setting a candle on the ledge beside the wild berry bushes.

Here in Detroit, I have my attic “skyhouse,” with a sitting room, candles and a view of trees and rooftops down the street.

It has been essential for me, this solitude, a time carved out away from distractions. I’ve had to set up my spaces in handy places where I didn’t need to drive somewhere. That kind of outing would be for longer retreats, and there are wonderful options. But daily solitude is also healthy. As Dallas Willard says, it is a priority among spiritual disciplines, defined as a place where we can find freedom from ingrained patterns of feelings, interactions and actions “that hinder our integration into God’s order.”[1]  159

Why this desperation?  I was finding that certain authors were becoming my mentors. As I read about the importance of wrenching free from demands and from anything drawing my attention away from a time dedicated to just being with my Lord, I searched out ways to be alone with him. That is why it Is really a “solitude of two,” time set aside to concentrate on being with him.

What these “mentors” were writing is true: solitude opens up the opportunity to practice other disciplines. It is hard to even write about its benefits without mentioning silence, listening, prayer, practicing the Presence, journaling, examen . . . our lists can go on and on. We are giving “God’s Spirit time and space to do deep work.”[2]

Some people live alone. How could the practice of solitude be at all meaningful, when finding company in life is a constant felt need? It is important to differentiate this kind of time apart from the sadness of constantly being alone. “Loneliness is inner emptiness. Solitude is inner fulfillment. Solitude is not first a place but a state of mind and heart.”[3]  We don’t need to fear being alone, because we are not alone; our Lord is constantly with us. We need to pay attention to that. Community is healthy. The two balance each other.

Solitude is not a place. It actually is possible to practice it while surrounded by a crowd; it just takes a different kind of self-control, letting go of attachment to all that is going on. I had to learn that when a public event would be launched early in the morning in the town square just over our courtyard wall. I had to learn to not let that control me as I practiced solitude in my “sacred grove.”

 “In the midst of noise and confusion we are settled into a deep inner silence.”[4] We are tuning our inner ears to a different Voice, one best heard when we let go of the cluttered cacophony of what is going on around us as well as in our heads and hearts.

There are so many examples in Scripture of how Jesus practiced solitude. Here are a few: his 40 days in the desert before launching his ministry (Mat 4:1-11), a night alone before choosing the Twelve (Luke 6:12), when he heard that his cousin John had been killed (Mat 14:13), after feeding 5,000 people (Mat 14:23), after healing a leper (Luke 5:16), before his Transfiguration (Mat 17:1-9), and before his crucifixion (Mat 26:36-46). If he needed that time apart with his Father, think how much more we need it? We have ears unaccustomed to that divine interaction, ears that need training.

I noticed that even Paul found solitude in the middle of a very pressured journey, hurrying to get to Jerusalem by the day of Pentecost. As the ship stopped in various places, he was saying goodbye to many he had been discipling. Time was loaded with crowds, and then he preached all night and a young man sitting on a windowsill fell asleep and fell out, died, and was raised to life (Acts 20:6-12). Luke and his other companions went back to the ship and sailed to the next destination, Assos, where they were going to take Paul aboard. Why wasn’t he with them? He had decided to walk from Troas down to Assos. On the Roman road connecting them, that would have been about 31 miles. So commentators think it would have taken two days, maybe more. Now that is some time apart, alone! He had just experienced trauma, and now was headed for Jerusalem where he would be persecuted. The Spirit had told him he would suffer there (Acts 20:22-23). Like Jesus, he knew he needed that solitude—walking, in his case—to be prepared.

That is another way to carve out solitude: taking a walk. I sometimes use earbuds to listen to music or audio Scriptures while walking alone in my neighborhood. But lately I have felt the Lord prompting me to be silent, to listen to him, or to turn that time into a prayer walk. My days are full now that I am “working” in the ministry of Bible translation again; I need to untie myself from to-do’s and must-do’s and what-if’s. As Foster puts it, “Rather than chafing and fighting, become still and wait.”[5]

In addition to detaching from external noise, we must quieting our inner noise to better listen to God.[6] When it becomes a part of our lifestyle, it is no longer a scary struggle to let go of preoccupations. Instead, it is a haven of rest and strengthening.

For those who are homebound, just schedule it, or designate a chair or room as your protected retreat for solitude. Most of us have many options. Let’s not ignore this nourishment for our inner being that prepares us to live with the Lord, and walk with him.

When we are in love with someone, we long for moments alone with them. When we’ve been through tough times, we long for quiet rest—even time secluded in nature. When we are called out of the bustle into that special place, we jump to respond. So here is a verse that speaks to the yearning in our hearts, a message from the One who is love, and loves us intensely. Our hearts can leap to be with him, alone:

Come away, my beloved, and be like a gazelle or like a young stag on the spice-laden mountains. (Song of Solomon 8:14 NIV)

[1] Willard, Dallas. The Spirit of the Disciplines: Understanding How God Changes Lives. (HarperSanFrancisco, 1991),159

[2] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005), 112

[3] Foster, Richard J. Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth. (San Francisco: Harper and Row, Publishers). 84

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid., 91

[6] Calhoun, 111

Practicing Silence

The words come crashing in
like chattering kids.
They're only in my head
but they are deafening.

I cannot stem the tide.
A billion babblings 
jostle for position.
One sinks, one bubbles up.

He says, "Be silent,"
and I long for quiet
to listen for his voice,
to know that he is God.

I'm desperate to hear him
through the clatter,
within static and
underneath the noise,

Somewhere at a center point
is silence, deep inside
my cluttered cave.
And he is there.

If you’ve been following my journey, you’ve heard about my “sacred grove,” the space in my courtyard in Ferkessédougou, Côte d’Ivoire, where I retreated for about three hours early Saturday mornings. Why was it “sacred”? Because it was “set apart,” consecrated for a spiritual discipline I knew I desperately had to observe. There I could be alone for a small slice of time, and practice being quiet. Well, not really “alone”! I was there with my Lord.

It was essential for my well-being. I needed respite from interactions and from my work in Bible translation that involved delving into several languages. As exegete, I studied the original language versions of texts, Greek or Hebrew, using resources in English, then I explained them in French and Nyarafolo to my coworker, who suggested the Nyarafolo equivalent of that original meaning. It was deep and challenging, and I loved it. But it left my head swirling with concepts and words. And we lived in a culture that valued community highly, so we either had visitors or went visiting many times, and often shared our home with others. It was all a huge blessing., even if we longed for that introvert solace that would strengthen us for the next day.

We were learning that life needs to have sacred rhythms. We need community, we need to love others with our time and energy. Working with words and the Word was (and is) my passion. On the other hand, it can become overwhelming. It’s like running a marathon and not getting rest before taking off in another direction, or like eating constantly without a few hours between meals. The soul needs time to rest, to find space where the deluge of noise retreats and leaves behind a refuge of quiet—like how it feels to leave a busy city and sit under a tree beside a river.

While practicing lectio divina, I was struck by the requirement to be silent that is listed as the final element in the fourth step. After reading the text, meditating on it, asking God for illumination, then comes contemplation. It includes thoughtful prayer, but also listening for God to speak. And in order to hear the other person clearly when in conversation, we need to stop talking.

Do you have an acquaintance who is a non-stop talker? Can you get a word in edgewise? I was convicted, several years ago, of being that kind of a pray-er. I was blabbing my praise, my petitions, my plans to the Lord. Then I went on my way. I was not listening. Brad Jersak uses this illustration: what would it be like to have a friend or loved one call you, give you news, but never give you a chance to respond before they hang up?[1] I was convicted.

When I read Invitation to Solitude and Silence, by Ruth Haley Barton, I knew that I needed to find a way to practice those two aspects of spiritual formation. Without them I was at a blockade, no way forward. The are practices of abstinence, of letting go of something to make space for the Lord to work. I needed to give up my own obsession with thinking, writing, interacting with people and being productive.

When I still had kids at home it was a challenge even to find space for a “quiet time” in the morning. Most times I could squeeze it in while a little one played beside me on the front porch, or the older ones got into their books. Now they were gone, but if I sat on the front porch I would get visitors, kind people coming to greet on their way to work or to go use the well in our back yard. I finally told everyone in our courtyard that on Saturday mornings, if I was sitting under the golden rain trees by the front wall, I was not to be bothered except if something was urgent. I had solitude there, something that is the twin of silence. Sure, there was still the noise of city trucks and people across the road in the town square, but I could learn to switch off my attention to those and learn to be silent. I longed to find peace in the noise, to shut off the tumult of noise in my own inner being, to find silence, and listen.

It took practice, every time. The words roiling within were like a muddy pool after a strong rain—eventually the mud would settle, but it took time. After about an hour I would begin to experience inner quiet. And over and over, I would suddenly feel a prompting about some Scripture I had been reading, how it applied to me or to my work. Or nature around me would speak the Voice. When I grabbed my little notebook and my pen, often a poem would appear on the page. That was how I could “hear” the Voice most clearly.[2]

I know others who find that it is journaling that makes the whisper of the Lord heard to them. For one person, it is graphic art!

Of course what we think we “hear” needs to be measured for authenticity: is this just my own reasoning, or am I really becoming aware of the Lord’s part in this conversation? Does this line up with the Scriptures? Do I sense his reproval, or approval, or a challenge to move in a direction in line with his will? Is he just affirming his love, his presence? The message can take many forms. But as we listen, it draws us closer to our Lord, getting to know him personally as opposed to knowing about him.

As Dallas Willard says, “Only silence will allow us life-transforming concentration upon God.” He cites this verse: in quietness and trust is your strength (Isa. 30:15 NIV).[3]

In order to find a silent space, we need solitude, or at least a company of others who agree to practice silence. My husband and I found a way to do this together as the new year came upon us, parking our car down by the Detroit River, on Belle Isle, with no conversation for a couple of hours. There was peace and safety, but also silence as we watched the water and waited for the Whisper.

And when we practice this appropriately, even alone, we are never alone. After a few years I began calling it “the solitude of two.” Jesus is always there. I was just shaving away the distractions and concentrating on waiting, being quiet, making space for him to do or say what he might be waiting to do in me or say to me.

Practicing that silence during contemplation of Scripture is another essential application of this discipline. We are not only studying what is there, and asking God to keep his promises to us or to work this out in a loved one’s life, etc. It is important to wait, to hear how he wants the text to impact us. We can shut down our constant word-factory and wait, listening.

It can be a daily practice, and also a deeply meaningful one when we carve out a retreat, away from whatever is “normal” for us: busyness, work, physical activities, You-Tube, pleasure reading, games, community, hobbies–even music or conversations.

“From the dawn of time, we have needed our respites. Even the God-man himself was “led by the Spirit into the wilderness” (Matthew 4:1), “went out to a desolate place” (Mark 1:35; Luke 4:42), and “went up on the mountain by himself to pray . . . alone” (Matthew 14:23).”[4]

If I had not obeyed the impulse to spend that time in solitude and silence in my “sacred grove,” there is so much that I would not have heard. My journals are full of notes added after those hours. I know that I would never have had that collection of poems to publish in my book, When He Whispers: Learning to Listen on the Journey ! I also would have missed several lessons he was teaching me, that I was not paying attention to in the middle of the noise. Silence was a learning curve, an important one.

[1] Jersak, Brad. Can You Hear Me: Tuning in to the God Who Speaks. (Fresh Wind Pr; Revised edition, January 1, 2003).

[2] My learning curve is traced in my book that contains some of that poetry:  Boese, Linnea. When He Whispers: Learning to Listen on the Journey. (Westbow Press, 2021).

[3] Willard, Dallas. The Spirit of the Disciplines: Understanding How God Changes Lives. (HarperSanFrancisco, 1991),163

[4] Mathis, David. https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/take-a-break-from-the-chaos

Cling, Be Nourished!

Just cling,
cells interlocked,
bark intact,
and let the sap flow:
slowly but surely
through winter frost,
tingling gently, 
keeping you alive;
vibrantly pouring
when summer sun
saturates the world
with heat; 
a constant feeding 
in the sleep 
of night.
Rest, but cling,
fruit will come!

When I picture myself a branch clinging to the Vine, drinking in the nourishment of that intimate attachment, I am overwhelmed with gratitude that the Source of vibrant healthy Life wants me to be that attached to him. It is a grace, and not something to be ignored—because an unfruitful branch is useless.

Most of all, I want that Vine “sap” to flow into me consistently. Daily “quiet time” is a wonderful habit that makes space for that two-way relationship, for conversation between my Messiah and me. One fruitful practice to include in that time, at least in some regular fashion, is an ancient one called “lectio divina.” It is related to praying Scripture, and also involves contemplating its principles and applying them. Rich!

For years it was dismissed in evangelical circles as a Catholic practice, thus not relevant. But recently it has become increasingly valued for its contribution to development of intimacy with God. It evidently had roots in the Jewish practice of oral reading and memorization of the Scriptures, then was adapted to both private and group practice in the Western church in the fifth century based on its use by the Eastern desert mothers and fathers as a way to encounter God through Scripture[1]. After a while it became relegated to only the “spiritually elete,” and was no longer made available to common people. As a result, “the simplicity and power of praying back to God his holy Scripture also was lost.[2]”

For many Christians, that is true today. Reading the Bible for information is a good practice, but adding a deep desire for spiritual formation through the practice is the other side that is essential to real growth. There are various ways to apply the heritage of lectio divina to personal use, but I appreciate a simple four-step approach that I can remember to apply as I open the Word in my quiet time. It actually is much like inductive study, but includes a greater emphasis on meditation and prayer. These steps are gleaned from several sources:

Lectio: READ Take time to read a passage more than once. This can be done orally, which may be helpful in maintaining focus and using one’s auditory faculties. I find that reading it silently works well for me.

Meditatio: REFLECT What does the text mean? What is God showing me through this passage? What are the principles that are being illustrated?

Oratio: RESPOND Turn your thoughts to direct communication with God. Pray. Use the passage as an outline for your prayer, especially the parts that the Lord has highlighted for you. It is good to turn this into conversation, where you take time to listen to how the Lord responds to what you are praying.

Incarnatio: RESOLVE  How can you live out what the Word has said to you? It may be helpful to make notes, to decide how to apply it concretely. Then go do it.

I find that these steps help me digest what I read, taking time to taste it, chew it, and let it nourish me. It is a practice new to me, one I’ve been implementing the past few weeks.

Let me give an example from my current reading through Acts. In chapters 20 and 21, Paul is eager to get to Jerusalem before Pentecost, and he has to take a long journey through Macedonia and Greece to get there. Along the way, he keeps getting warned that he is going to be rejected, and taken prisoner by the Romans. He had known from the start that hardship was ahead, as it had been in every city, yet he was “compelled by the Holy Spirit” to go anyway (20:22). It was different from other times, when he had avoided danger by leaving a city and going elsewhere (as in 17:13-15). Now he knew he must consider his life worth nothing. His one purpose was to accomplish whatever purpose his Lord had for him (20:24), sharing the Good News. He was saying goodbyes and encouraging believers to run that same race.

As I read sections of those chapters over the course of several days, I also reread them. Part of my contemplation has been taking time to also read the letters he eventually wrote to the communities where he had ministered, to add those teachings to what he knew was important for each one. I meditated on this commitment to obedience, no matter the cost. It spoke to me. Sometimes in my own life the Lord had told Glenn and me that it was time to escape danger, as when we evacuated from civil war in Côte d’Ivoire in 2022. And then there have been times when he said to leave fear behind and go do what he was putting before us, as when we returned to rebel-held territory there, three and a half years later.

What is he saying to me now? This has been underlined: I need to be listening to the Spirit for counsel, but meanwhile, continue to do what he has set before me until he makes a change or addition. Just like Paul, I need to be ready to stay where the Lord is using me right now, or go where he says there is a task he wants me to do. I re-evaluate my preoccupations, laying them out before him in prayer. Right now I know that he has assigned me the work of re-entering a full-time commitment to Bible translation, a complete change of direction from my activities during the last few years of retirement. He has told me to see it as his continued purpose for me, what he has prepared for me to do. Of what value is my life if I use it only for freedom from “work”—when instead he wants me to “complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me” (20:24). My life is not my own; it is his. I gave it to him decades ago. And that is what matters. I realize, too, that he is giving me joy on this journey.

Paul’s farewell to the Ephesian elders (20:1-28) is especially meaningful to me. As I pray through it, not just once but over several days of quiet times, I remember the wrenching farewells with our Nyarafolo “family” as we said goobye to different groups and retired, moving on to this phase. And my Lord is reinforcing the essential assignment given me (it is not over yet!), to spread the news of his grace wherever I am, whether through translation of his Word or in conversations with my neighborhood walking group. This is that important last step of Incarnatio, putting what I “hear” into practice in my life.

The process of lectio divina can be done with a short section of text in one sitting, but it is also worth practicing over days or weeks, depending on the length of the text being contemplated and the purpose given the disciple by the Lord. It is a useful approach to making sure that attachment to the Vine is a priority, being fed—a way of focusing on intimacy with our Master/Friend/Jesus, listening to his teaching and promptings as we digest that treasure of his Word, our daily nourishment:

so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18 may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge– that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. (Eph. 3:17 NIV)

As Adele Calhoun says, “Lectio divina invites us into God’s presence to listen for his particular, loving word to me at this particular moment in time[3].”

[1] Westerfield, Gloria Jean. “Lectio Divina: A Contemplative Approach to Intimacy with God.” (Asbury Theological Seminary ePlac; Dissertations, 2014), 29. https://place.asburyseminary.edu/ecommonsatsdissertations/688/

[2] Ibid., 30.

[3] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005), 168.

In the House of Love

He makes his home in me.

And I, I live inside

this house of love,

his banner flapping bright above,

his pleasure my desire.

I bring him blooms to grace

the place he sets for me

(no matter that, outdoors,

corruption slimes the world

and evil lurks in gray).

I will not fear. For he is here,

my God, and where he is

we live in love. He who made

the jasmine and the violets

for his delight and mine

smells the worship in my offering

and smiles. Together we

will garrison my strength

against the storm here where it’s warm.

What does it mean to you, the truth that if you are God’s child, he lives in you? I know it takes a while for this to become truly relevant to a believer. Then, once the reality hits home, how does it influence the way that their relationship with God is understood? At first he seems far away, a God who loves his people but is seated on his throne. We keep on waiting for Jesus to return. The Spirit is to be our guide, our counselor, but we cannot see him.

And yet the Word says:

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. (Gal. 2:20 NIV)

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.  (Eph. 3:16-17a NIV)

Christ lives in me!  Christ dwells in me—he makes his home in me!

When I began to purposefully set time aside to be with my Abba Father, my Master, my Jesus, I was still very young. All I did was read a few verses, pray briefly to put my concerns in his hands, and launch into the day.

Then InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, at MSU, taught me how to apply the inductive approach to leading Bible studies. We used it in groups, and it was a few years later that I realized I could apply it to my own time in the Word. It requires just three simple steps: observation (the facts in the text, who/what/where/when/why/how), interpretation (what does the text mean? what principles are underlined?), then application (how does this apply to me and to my context?)[1].

After a while, constant practice began making use of this method my new normal. It increased the impact of Scripture on my life and deepened my love for that “quiet time” set apart each morning for the Word. Eventually I added in journaling. Then my mission experiences made me yearn for yet deeper growth, and I researched spiritual formation—an ongoing passion.

A primal truth was beginning to become rooted in all this, one I had been taught since I was a child but that had not had much impact on me: that Jesus lives in me!

. . . God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. (Col. 1:27 NIV)

I was now married, learning that, when you live with someone, you need to talk to each other and truly share life. It is the only way for love and mutual understanding to grow. Jesus lives in me through his Spirit, and that is where all my hope has firm roots. In fact he is in me, and I am in him!

Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, (Rom. 8:1 NIV)

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! (2 Cor. 5:17 NIV)

In this context, being “in” Christ refers to being in a relationship with him, belonging to him. So how could I work at strengthening that astonishing, amazing relationship?

The Word of God is available to me, in my language. I can study it, not zipping through some daily ritual of a few verses then moving onward into whatever was going on. It is nourishment for the soul, like daily bread—what we beg for in “The Lord’s Prayer.”

I know that many who are in the Lord’s Family are consistently having a daily “quiet time.” So I was taken aback by a title in the April 2023 issue of Christianity Today, “Wasting Quiet Time: If daily devotionals aren’t yielding true Bible fluency, is there a better way?[2]” Reading it, I saw that the authors were reacting to evidence they have seen in their ministries that “Bible literacy has been on an increasingly steep decline” in the United States, even for those who have daily “devotions[3].” They attribute it to “micro-dosing,” a practice of dipping into a few verses, even at random, instead of devoting oneself to true immersion in the Scriptures, which is often called “Scripture engagement.” Evidently surveys have shown that a smaller percentage of Christians even read the Bible daily than in the last decade, and many of those who do read it are not interacting with it in such a way as to find it applicable to their growth.

We can turn that around! Those authors recommend a greater emphasis on communal reading of Scripture, and that definitely has value, especially in contexts where it is not only a liturgical reading of a passage but also group discussion. That is where inductive study in groups is so useful.

But I am positive that meaningful individual interaction with the Word, applying oneself to truly understand passages in context and be spiritually nourished, is essential. We cannot depend on community reading alone to meet this need. Each of us can learn to do what contributes to our growth by doing what the Lord warned was necessary:

Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.'” (Matt. 4:4 NIV, cf Deut. 8:3)

For those of us who have the Word at our fingertips, available in audio format as well, not digesting the Word is like being invited to a feast that includes all the most nutritious and delicious foods in the world and walking right past it all. If we let the Lord bless us with this food, we are strengthened, as John said in his letter:

I have written to you, children, that you have known the Father.I have written to you, fathers, that you have known him who has been from the beginning. I have written to you, young people, that you are strong, and the word of God resides in you, and you have conquered the evil one. (1 Jn. 2:14 NET)

Knowing God, relishing his taking up residence in us, walking through life with him and being increasingly strengthened, is fundamental. It is an intimate relationship, sharing every minute, every incident. If we ignore this undeserved, gracious benefit, it is as if we move in with someone and then every day say, “Good morning!’, walk out the door and treat them as no longer a companion.

And it is obvious that what he has told us, what he gave us in his Word, is key for knowing him and what he is teaching us. We are not to treat the Scriptures as a snack, but as our basic food. When translating what Jesus said, that he is the “Bread of Life,” into Nyarafolo, we had to decide what word to use for “bread.” There is a borrowed word used for the French baguettes brought into the country through the colonists, used as a side dish or quick snack along the road. A translation consultant explained that using it would not communicate the truth in this context, that this is not an occasional treat  but refers to the staple food (for Jews, the hearty bread accompanied with other sauces etc.). We grabbed that truth and used the Nyarafolo word for the basic starch that was for the daily meal, the “food.” And I learned a delightful truth. In English, “bread” referred to a side dish as well. Whereas when God gave manna to the wandering Israelites as their staple food, it was all they had to eat while in the desert. It was perishable, though, and so were those who ate it. But Jesus is the Bread of Life:

Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, yet they died. 50 But here is the bread that comes down from heaven, which anyone may eat and not die. 51 I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.” (Jn. 6:49 NIV)

Jesus lives in us, and we live in him (digest John 17:13-23 for Jesus’ words about this amazing relationship and what it means). We need to get to know him better and better, not only thinking about what that means when we take communion. He left his Word with us, and we need to respect it as our staple food. Let’s enjoy the feast, and find ways to really pay attention to it, not wasting our daily “quiet time” but finding true nourishment there.

We’ll be investigating various study methods in the coming weeks, ways to truly do that! Peace to all of you who are in Christ. (1 Pet. 5:14 NIV)

[1] For more on how to do inductive study, one good resource is https://www.logos.com/grow/how-to-inductive-bible-study/ .

[2] Johnson, Dru and Durgin, Celina. “Wasting Quiet Time: If daily devotionals aren’t yielding true Bible fluency, is there a better way?” Christianity Today, April 2023. pp 62-71.

[3] Ibid., 69.






 
 
 

	


	





	

		
Powering Up
	


	
	

		






Exhaustion depresses
like bricks on foam
squeezing out air,
leaving you heavy,
squished, flat-out dense.

Sleep and love,
contemplation,
are nectar, nutrients
(just eat what fits).
Breathe in, exhale.

Find a place 
deep inside
a favorite space:
grab a book; take a look
at what brings you joy. 

In time you’ll stretch,
get back up
and power up
for life as usual,
ready to go, restored.

When you feel like you really need a break from “life as usual,” whatever that is for you, how do you get re-energized?  There are phases of life when it seems next to impossible, like when a mom is dealing with a newborn, or you’ve taken on a second job to make ends meet, or sickness has changed all plans. What a blessing it is if you live in a family or community where you can get some help!

But some of us are also prone to saying “yes” to too many things, or to viewing everything else as more important than ourselves. We may be in ministry and feel selfish if we take time off. Missionary life often had us in that kind of grip. Sometimes burnout was actually hovering, waiting for us to collapse. And I began to wonder: why did Jesus leave the crowds and go off to a mountain, on his own or with just a few friends? Of course, he was a man of prayer and needed that time with the Father. But he also was modeling a change of pace.

We often felt that we had to drive to a place far away to find that kind of protected environment, like the beach down south in Côte d’Ivoire. But then during our last decade there a new safe spot opened up: a place called “EcoFerme,” featuring an open-air restaurant with a deck built over the Bandama River just about  a half hour from home. If we went early in the day, no other guests were there. We could watch the water flowing by, listen to birdsong, talk quietly to each other. Ahhhhh! (The photo above was taken there on one such retreat.)

It was hard not to question whether it was right to take the time to do something like that. It did feel "less selfish" when we would take national friends or mission coworkers and share the delight. But we were also well aware that we needed to take care of ourselves in order to stay healthy in body and in our inner being, and for us, sometimes that meant time alone!

God made each of us, knowing us from the day we were conceived:
13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. 14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 15 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. 16 Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.  (Ps. 139:13-16 NIV)

When we make something, we care about it. If I have baked a cake and left it cooling on a rack, I don’t want some careless child to hop through the kitchen swinging a toy and knock it off the counter. When my husband spent days installing laminate on the floors of our old house, replacing worn carpet, we all began to make special efforts to wipe up any liquid that fell on it. God made our bodies and our inner being, and cares about how we use them. He even wants us to take good care of them. I think of Psalm 23, and how the Good Shepherd leads his flock beside still waters and in green pastures; he also spreads a table of food before his dear ones and fills their cup to the brim. So should we not cooperate with him?

This does not give us license to waste our time and money in lavish ways that take no consideration of how he is guiding us. It does not mean caving in to addictions that may drive us, such as unhealthy use of food or drink or drugs, entertainment, or adrenaline-soothing activities.
 
But he made it a rule that one day out of seven should be a day of rest. And he wants us to take care of the bodies he made for us. By turning away from harmful activities and following his counsel, we can thrive:
Do not be wise in your own eyes; fear the LORD and shun evil. 8 This will bring health to your body and nourishment to your bones. (Prov. 3:7 NIV)

Another command that always comes to my mind when I reflect on self-care is the one to “love your neighbor as you love yourself,” referenced over and over (Lev 19:18,34; Mat 19:19 and 22:39; Mark 12.31,33; Luke 10:27; Rom 13:9; Gal 5:14; James 2:8). If it is repeated that many times in all those contexts, it is indeed essential for living in a way that conforms to God’s values. And it is impossible to love one’s neighbor appropriately if one does not love themselves and take care of themselves as they should.

You have probably heard much of what is out there about taking good care of yourself physically, mentally and emotionally. Weighing what we read or hear against what the Word says is necessary. Listening to a wise mentor or prayer partner, sharing our challenges also can smooth the path. Physical and emotional issues change with seasons of life and have their impact. But we can choose to do what is right to keep ourselves healthy and useful to the Lord for his purposes. If we don’t take care of ourselves it will wear us down. So it is right to exercise, pay attention to nutrition, work at getting good sleep and take a break when needed. It is right to thank God for who he made us to be, how he designed us, and to honor those gifts.

Jesus loved us so much he gave himself for us. Part of being grateful for his love, and for the gift of life, is to treat that gift with respect. When we value ourselves the way that he does, we can then value others that way too. I see that as another way to understand loving ourselves and then loving others the same way. Just as we do not want to do harm to ourselves, we don’t want to do harm to others. Instead, we want health to reign in every way possible. When it is not possible to change a situation, we need to lean on our Father, Lord, Shepherd, Guide. He will direct our steps. When I am his, he lives in me, and will show me how to take care of this shared dwelling.

I am glad that he values rest, sustenance and loving relationships. He intended the world to be founded on those. Because of its brokenness, we will go through times when suffering, deprivation or evil actions cut into them. But each of us can do our part to live by his values, honoring the bodies he gave us and our needs for well-being, respecting the opportunities given to us.

As Adele Calhoun puts it, self-care that accompanies spiritual formation is “practicing self-awareness rather than self-absorption,” and “valuing yourself as Jesus values you.”  Is is to “intentionally receive ourselves as God’s own beloved,”[1]  which empowers us to love and forgive both ourselves and others.  This gives me permission to work at having healthy limits and to take advantage of the opportunities that he gives me to take care of myself – even sitting by a river in the company of birds instead of always being hard at work!
  
[1] Calhoun, Adele Ahlberg. Spiritual Disciplines Handbook: Practices that Transform Us. (Downers Grove, Illinois: IVP Books, 2005), 71,72.