Out of the Ashes

Almost every morning, upon arising, the chore of taking out the ashes awaits me.
Living in Manitoba with a wood stove...you understand why.
It is burning day and night.
Constantly.
Perpetually.
It is cold.
Here.
Kelly stop laughing.

Burning that much wood ...the ashes build up quickly.
Although by 7am it seem that it is all ash, as I shovel it out into our 5 gallon pail, there are always embers remaining. Not once have I awoken to find the fire completely gone out.

That gives me hope.

The dawn this morning was incredible...scarlet and flaming pink filled the sky.
The taller trees on our property are swaying in the wind...and the wind is warmer than usual.
The weather report for the following two weeks looks promising ( fingers crossed). It seems as if we will be getting the proverbial January thaw.

Dare I hope?

In the Book Hinds Feet on High Places ( Hannah Hunnard) the main character Much Afraid, on her journey with the Shepherd to the High Places, is always scraping together her little rebellions and fears into an altar and offering them up. The pile gets consumed by fire and she is left with a pebble in the ashes. She collects these pebbles along her journey to remind herself of the Shepherd's faithfulness to his promises, and to remind herself of what she has laid down.
Upon reaching the last leg of her journey she finds herself in a valley with an altar laid out before her. She discovers that the final act of obedience requires the full surrender of her need for human love...and acceptance. This sacrifice takes more that she can do herself so she asks to be bound to the altar and the priest of the altar reaches into her heart to tear out the weed of human love. After she awakens in a cave..she pours out all her pebbles..raked from the ashes of her surrender and they are jewels..treasure beyond measure.

What was I thinking ....that Christ could face the cross..in the garden and struggle til he sweat blood..saying not my will..but thine be done...and what..I get to blithely enter into the will of God with very little effort? Minor sacrifice..discomfort...and pain?
Jesus..who knew no sin..became sin...took it all on...bore it for all to see...so I could hide...keep things secret...pretend...succeed...prove I was good and worthy...of fame fortune..full of talent..wisdom and grace...

James Langteaux, in the book God.net reminds us that God says in his word to:
"take up your cross daily...not your golf bag... and follow him."
Am I doing that?
Following Him?
Or am I re-writing the script?
How much has been lost on the editing floor?
Is the movie nothing like the book?
God have mercy!

Can it be done?
As Sigmund Brouwer puts it in the title of his book:
" Can the Real Jesus Still Be Found?"

That's what we are called to.
Did you ever ask the question...
Where was Jesus going?
Can I follow?
Am I following?
What is my cross?
Is it an altar?

What does this mean for my life?

Doesn't look too promising....sounds terribly uncomfortable.

The cross wasn't the end however...

Out of the ashes of death...of surrender....there emerged a treasure beyond all treasure.

There emerged a blazing trail...

Back.

Talk about a treasure map.

There is a way back...to complete communion with God our Father.

That which was lost.
Is found.
Again.
That which was stolen.
Is restored.
That which was broken.
Reforged.
What died.
Lives.

Yes?

YES!

So today...I scrape together my petty rebellions...my fears...my will...

On the altar.

I surrender.

And trust from the ashes....he will bring forth treasure of his making, his design...

Lasting treasure.

And tomorrow..and tomorrow and tomorrow...

Through the fire..out of the ashes...

Following...

Him.

My God...Your God

These days my inner life resembles a battlefield.
My mind is constantly under assault.
Old habits die hard.
Old enemies, a familiar presence, entertained with a twisted sort of intimacy.

I feel like Much Afraid on her journey to the High Places(Hinds Feet on High Places) as she stares at the path in front of her that leads into the desert....this is not what you promised...this path cannot lead to your promises! The Shepherd asks her to trust him implicitly even when it looks like he is lying.

My problem is not so much that I think God is lying.
It lies in the fact that my definition, my persepctive, my portrait, of God... is twisted and distorted.

Re-building the fire each morning is a job I enjoy.
The coals can be tiny and hidden among the mounds of ash....but it only takes a few and a breath of air to bring the fire back to conflagration.
As I add kindling and breathe on the coals and pull out the damper to allow more air in, the fire leaps into being again. The difference between the winking embers and the roaring blaze is less than half a minute.
Food for thought!
Daily.
My despair can melt away in the face of such imagery.
Breath of God breathe on me.

Recently I realized that the coals in my heart were burned down to almost nothing, and that a cycle was emerging: Inspiration, passion,waiting, hope,wearying and despair.

Repeat.
Repeat.
Repeat.

What was missing is: ACTION

Why?
It is killing me.
Slowly but surely.
This cycle is chronic. terminal. fatal.

This morning before the fire I realized why.

The fault lies with the God I serve.

Shocked?
Please don't call.
I haven't fallen off the edge quite yet.

Repeat.
The fault lies with the God I serve.

Kim Clement has a book: Call Me Crazy But I'm Hearing God.
He talks in this book about the difference between God's intentions and his actions.

Intentions.

Actions.

Separate and distinct from one another.

Why?

Why does God not do what he intends?

Because the key to them being one and the same lies with me.

ME

me

mE

Me

Moi.....

It is all about me....Rick Warren was wrong...((grin))

Choice.

I choose.

From the beginning it has always been so.

God intends.....man chooses....God acts.

Confession time.

Today I saw the God I serve.
He is a teacher.
He has a big pen.
He has a big score pad..a big measuring stick....
He doesn't grade on a curve.

I live like I have to measure up.
I perform my heart out for good grades.
I need to make the deans list to be worthy.
I create a series of standards in my own mind... and am immobilized unless they are reached.
The God I serve cannot accept anything less.
Than perfection.

And I am not.

Perfect.

God.

It is so sick and twisted.
It is so arrogant.

I'll allow that God can use anyone else in any form....but me.
See I know me.
I live with me.
I know my humanity.
I am failing.
I am fallen.
I can't get up.
But I try.
On my own.
To be my own savior.

I live guilty. Of underachieving.
I live fearful. Of failure.
I guarantee both.
I choose.

It is never enough.

IT NEEDS TO STOP.

This is my God.

It is NOT God.

Thus are God's intentions thwarted.... in me.
His actions however...bring me round again...back to his intentions....thank God.

He remains constant.
Faithful.
Sacred.
Waiting.
Loving.

I need the furnace of Shadrach..Meshach and Abednego.
I need Daniels's lions den.
I need Paul's Damascus road.

My God is killing me in the name of GOD.

So here I am.
40.
Forty.
Four ZERO.
Yes forty years old!!!!
The New Year approaches with alarming speed.
2008.

I am done. undone.

Will the real God please step forward.

This model is counterfeit.
I surrender it.
Gladly.
With relief.
There will be no more command preformances.
The show is cancelled.
finito.

Repeat: will the real God please step forward.

The God who made me.

He doesn't do bad art.
He doesn't accept the critics reviews.
He uses what he makes.
He loves what he does.
He finishes what he started.

He never FAILS.

my GOD?

Exactly.

He...is all about...me.