Tuesday, September 11, 2007

The Deep End?

Kirk talks about the crazy God experiences as diving in the deep end of the pool. This has been that kind of week.

I've been reading and hearing from all kinds of sources this week:
  • a Dutch, Catholic, gay but celibate priest writing on prayer
  • an Episcopal, female priest talking about the life of faith, and her calling to ministry
  • a slightly sacchrine, but genuine Christian novelist
  • a British founder of a prayer movement
  • friends from all over the country and world
  • Music from favorite bands
  • A Canadian songwriter, poet, and novelist
All of these things circling and clinging. Floating through my brain.

Lots of imagery having to with light.

I've been praying each time I drink a cup of Starbucks - started as a bit of a joke, but has become something else. I prayed my way through a cup of tazo passion tea at work this morning, and that somehow led to a deep and intense conversation with one of my youth girls at another Starbucks this evening - pray for you if you think of it - she's facing some hard things right now.

I've discovered yet again that my story of depression and healing is perhaps one of the most powerful things God has ever used from my life or asked me to speak.

I was reading a document on the bus this afternoon and praying and three friends came to mind very strongly. I felt I needed to invite them to be part of that which the document was inviting me to be part of. I passed it along by email and left phone messages with one. I talked to the other for an hour on the phone tonight. She's putting out a Gideon fleece of sorts in response.

This has been a crazy, deep end sort of week. Beautiful, confusing, and worth every minute.

Remembering

I woke a bit late this morning, and stumbled out of bed to Alan Jackson’s song “Where Were You When the World Stopped Turning” playing on the radio station I listen to in the mornings as I get ready for work. It took me a moment to realize why they were playing that song today. It’s 9/11 once again. Six years later, once again a Tuesday morning, and people are pausing again to remember.

I am a historian – that is, my bachelor’s degree is in history, and I have long been a lover of classes like social studies in high school, and whatever history related classes I could enroll in for university. The classic question for defining and personalizing moments in history seems to be this – where were you when….occurred? Where were you when you heard that John F. Kennedy had been killed? The classic Canadian one – where were you when Paul Henderson scored the winning goal in the 1972 series of the century? Where were you when you learned that the Challenger shuttle had exploded? People define these moments by their location when they learned of them.

September 11, 2001 has become one of those moments – not because of the aforementioned country song that asks the question “Where were you?” but because of the way the events of that day and the response to those events have shaped the following six years.

It is hard for me to believe that it has already been six years. The events of that day seem to live on in daily ways – reminders in the media each time conflict arises in the Middle East. Each time the death of a Canadian soldier in Afghanistan is reported in the news. Each time the world begins to debate the merits of the American presence in Iraq. This is an event that lives not in the past, but in the present psyche of the North American world.

In the same way that my dad can tell you where he was when Paul Henderson scored that famous goal, and my mom can tell you where she was when she learned that President Kennedy was killed, I can tell you the exact location when it hit home that a plane had flown into the World Trade Centers, and that they had collapsed.

It was my first semester of university, and I was sitting in the only 8:00 am lecture I took in the five years I spent getting my degree. It was, “Psychology 205: Introductory Psychology.” I was in a second floor classroom, poorly lit with feeble florescent bulbs. A very beige sort of place. A classmate came in and told me that a plane had flown into the World Trade Centers, and speculated that it was terrorism. I remember dismissing her concerns, automatically assuming that it was a tragic accident. Our professor entered moments later, and repeated the news, this time confirming that this was indeed an act of terrorism against the United States.

Not a particularly profound memory, I suppose. I spent the lunch hour that day like so many others, glued to the television sets that had been set up in the hallways to allow students to follow the stories. I remember feeling dazed as I moved from class to class, not quite able to absorb this thing that was happening.

I remember walking into a video rental store a few days later, when the news coverage of the rescue efforts was still going on 24 hours a day on all of the television channels, determined to rent something funny, because I was done with the grieving, and the reality, and wanted to simply escape for a little while. I remember feeling a little bit guilty for wanting to laugh in the midst of all that sadness and fear.

Six years later I’m still remembering. I’m feeling grateful for the lives of the police officers and firefighters who sacrificed themselves in the attempt to rescue others. I’m wondering at the state of unrest in the world – the constant fear of terrorism, the lack of peace. I’m feeling a bit more proud than normal of my dual American and Canadian heritage and citizenship – and also conflicted as the retaliatory American presence on the world stage clashes with the peacemaking Canadian presence. I’m thinking about the world seems less innocent the last six years – or maybe it’s simply that a tiny bit of naiveté was lifted from my eyes that Tuesday morning. I’m remembering, and grieving, and praying for peace.

Prince Caspian

So excited for the next installment - I'll break my "can't watch fantasy because it gives me nightmares" rule for this one!

Guarding Our Souls - Henri Nouwen

Another email from the Henri Nouwen society...

Guarding Our Souls

The great danger of the turmoil of the end-time in which we live is losing our souls. Losing our souls means losing touch with our center, our true call in life, our mission, our spiritual task. Losing our soul means becoming so distracted by and preoccupied with all that is happening around us that we end up fragmented, confused, and erratic. Jesus is very aware of that danger. He says: "Take care not to be deceived, because many will come using my name and saying, 'I am the one' and 'The time is near at hand' Refuse to join them" (Luke 21:8).

In the midst of anxious times there are many false prophets, promising all sorts of "salvations." It is important that we be faithful disciples of Jesus, never losing touch with our true spiritual selves.

Choosing the Blessings - Henri Nouwen

Another great bit from the Henri Nouwen society that arrived in my inbox yesterday.

Choosing the Blessings


It is an ongoing temptation to think of ourselves as living under a curse. The loss of a friend, an illness, an accident, a natural disaster, a war, or any failure can make us quickly think that we are no good and are being punished. This temptation to think of our lives as full of curses is even greater when all the media present us day after day with stories about human misery.

Jesus came to bless us, not to curse us. But we must choose to receive that blessing and hand it on to others. Blessings and curses are always placed in front of us. We are free to choose. God says, Choose the blessings!