Simply Soul Searching

We came across the old clown as we were cleaning out our storage unit. Kevin and I laughed at the memory from years ago. He was just a little guy, maybe three or four years old. We were enjoying the craft time at our favorite campground, and young Kevin chose the ceramic clown as his painting project.

He quickly painted the ENTIRE clown a vibrant green- and then became dismayed at the result! This didn’t look like the clown he’d envisioned. I offered to repaint it and he seemed relieved by that. Soon I had the clown painted in different colors, “appropriate” colors, and well, it looked more like a clown. Kevin burst into tears. HE wanted to be the one to paint his clown! I reluctantly handed it back to him and watched as he hurriedly repainted the clown. Green. And he promptly burst into tears once again when it didn’t look like a clown.

This painting process was repeated several more times, much to the amusement of his older sisters. The clown was layered in green, multi-colors, green, multi-colors… with tears and frustration all along the way. Both Kevin and I became irritated, and since craft time was nearing the end, I finally refused to give it back to him for repainting. The clown has looked like the photo, an “appropriate” clown, for years.

Kevin never did like the clown; he never did find joy in remembering our time together that day.

Looking back, I wish that I would have simply encouraged him to keep the clown green. Even when he was sad that his clown didn’t look like a clown, I wish I would have pointed out the beauty of the green, the skills of his handiwork, and the uniqueness of his art. The green clown may have then become a treasured memory for him. I wonder if the green clown could have provided lessons for the two of us… lessons of learning to appreciate diversity, to see beyond our norms, to simply enjoy our craft, and to notice beauty in unexpected places.

God has created all of us to be our unique, diverse, perhaps out-of-the-ordinary selves. I wonder if we disappoint God when we choose to blend in, or follow the crowd, or be “appropriate.” I wonder if God is sad when we worry too much about our image, or when we allow others to dictate how we present ourselves. Perhaps God hopes that we would discern and discover our true selves, the way God envisions us. When we do, we might also discover the joy in diversity, the expansiveness of our nature, the gifts in our unique craftsmanship… and the beauty in everyone.

When I consider the grace of God, I usually think of the merciful, forgiving, generous love of God freely shared with my sinful, imperfect self. But on Sunday, Pastor Mike* reminded me of another grace: God’s sanctifying grace. We are already loved by God, and we never will be perfect. But the sanctifying grace of God continues to work on us; this grace draws us closer to God’s ways and will, helps us to grow as followers of Christ, and works to perfect us in every way. We are actually freed in a new way when we embrace the insightful, challenging, revealing, humbling, and sometimes painful corrections and callings of God.

These days I sense that God is challenging me to simply do the next right thing. The next good thing. No matter what. I am called to do what good I can, but entrust the results to God. This challenges me because I want to know that any of my kind words or generous actions are actually making a difference! If I am honest, it seems that I’d like to be rewarded in some way for any good I am able to do. Even if the reward is just to see what good I may have done, the small difference I may have made. So I sense God is asking me to surrender my need to see results and my need to know I’ve made a difference, and to simply do good… for goodness’ sake.

I am called to…

– speak up for the oppressed even if no one seems to hear me

– nourish and care for my body as God’s temple even if I can’t guarantee my longevity

– apologize for my shortcomings, even if my words are not accepted or understood

– keep writing my book about God’s love in my life, even if I never complete it

– feed my hungry neighbor even if I can’t feed the world

– foster peace in my relationships even if I can’t put an end to war

I am called to do these things, just because they are the right, good, and faithful things to do. I am called to obediently and humbly welcome God’s sanctifying grace and to keep allowing God to instruct and teach me. I am called to surrender my need for results, recognition or reward. I am called to simply do good for goodness’ sake.

For God’s sake.

* You can hear this inspirational sermon message about grace at the St. John website: http://www.sjumcwv.org/media; “It’s All About Grace,” June 25th, 2017. Read Romans 6:12-23 for the Bible passage. The actual message begins at 13:47.

I know that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it; God has done this, so that all should stand in awe before him. ~Ecclesiastes 3:14 

Sometimes when I look into the night sky to see the amazing universe, the vast darkness dotted with infinite stars and planets, a sense of fear and trembling overwhelms me. I feel so tiny and insignificant. I realize that my limited mind will never be able to comprehend all of this. The hugeness of creation, the infinite span of time and eternity, and all of the incredible energies and mysteries that surround me create this profound humility. This is awe. Our God IS an awesome God.

The same feeling happens when I am standing on a mountaintop overlooking the vista before me. This happens when I am in a valley, too, as I see the grandeur with a new perspective. Awe comes as I watch the ocean with its waves rolling in, and I consider its depths, its creatures, and its power. Sunrises and sunsets. Thunder and lightening. The birth of a baby.  When I could almost tremble with fear at the magnificence of God and the smallness of me, I know that I am feeling awe-struck.

When I then consider that God’s love is also boundless, overwhelming, infinite, and beyond our comprehension, I again am filled with awe. I feel insignificant, and yet, here I am, a child of God, created by God. I am loved by this God who loves me beyond all I can imagine.

We ALL are loved with the infinite, incredible love of God. We just can’t take it all in, even though we see glimpses of God’s love all the time. Our worldly cares and burdens, our griefs and our fears, even our darkest moments will one day become so insignificant in the light of God’s love and our eternity. So as Jesus reassured us throughout the gospels that we shouldn’t fear or worry, that he will be with us always, and that all will be redeemed for good, we can know we are loved beyond our comprehension. We can stand in joy- and awe- of this love from our incredible, amazing God.

A few construction workers were pouring a new driveway for us. They were diligently working in the hot sun, and I knew they could use some refreshing beverages. The first time I offered to get them something to drink, they politely declined. But the second time, I actually took a few bottles of icy water and soda with me. As I held them out and offered them again, their faces lit up and they happily took them to enjoy.

What made the difference? Perhaps they simply couldn’t refuse the chilly bottles of refreshing, bubbly soda beckoning them to drink (just like a commercial)! But I think they were swayed because they understood that I really meant what I said- I was happy to share a beverage with them. Add to that the awareness that, well, the bottles were right in front of them, so they “might as well take them since she’s brought them right to us.”

Isn’t this what God did with Jesus? Since creation, God had tried to show us that God’s love is for all of us, that God’s love is all around us, that God’s love is even within us. God showed this love through creation and stories and mysteries. Most of the world declined to partake. So God said, “I really mean it!” and brought us that love through Jesus. Right here on this earth, for us to witness ourselves. Right here for us to gratefully accept. Right here, promising us that he will never leave us. Right here within us now. God did this in the hopes that we will all say, “Might as well take this love shown and shared through Jesus, since God brought him right to us!”

Yet, as freely as God offers this gift of love, there are still many who are unaware that this is is being offered to them. Life hasn’t given them many opportunities to see the loving face of Christ in a helpful stranger, to understand the unwavering love of Christ through a nurturing mentor, or to feel the healing love of Christ from a steadfast friend. How might we become any of these in order to make Jesus’ presence known more readily?

May we live each day with such refreshing, visible love that people will be drawn to it and recognize their thirst for it. May we love so genuinely that people will know we really mean it. May we live so generously and graciously that people will see God’s love so freely offered and say, “There is the love of Christ, right here, for me- might as well take it!”

We have had lots of rain here in Hurricane. These days I take my walks between the showers! On one of these recent walks, I was delighted to see a little pink umbrella cast aside under a tree. I could picture a young girl freely abandoning her umbrella and joyfully dancing in the rain. The inverted umbrella had collected the rain water, thus providing a refreshing bath for birds and a watering hole for animals. My soul was uplifted by the simple blessings found in that scene.

God showers blessing after blessing upon us. But I wonder how often we huddle under our umbrellas and keep moving forward, bent on reaching our destinations with our images unscathed and our dignity intact, all the while remaining quite unaware of what we are missing.

We cling to our umbrellas of security and miss the blessings of generosity. We hold high our umbrellas of pride and miss the blessings of humility. We huddle under our umbrellas of protection and miss the blessings of adventure.  We hunker under the umbrellas of self-importance and miss the blessings of community. We hurriedly grab the umbrellas of convenience and miss the blessings of possibility. We hide under the umbrellas of image, and miss the blessings of authenticity. We shudder under umbrellas of regret and miss the blessings of forgiveness. We shelter under our umbrellas of self-reliance and miss the blessings of our desperate need for God. We miss out on so many gracious gifts because we are afraid to let go and abandon ourselves to them.

In those moments when we can find the courage and the faith to drop our chosen umbrellas, we can discover so many riches in the raindrops. We receive the sheer bliss of abandoning ourselves to God’s generously flowing love. We open ourselves to receive the perfect gifts God chooses for us, instead of cautiously choosing what we think we need. We are refreshed and renewed by the simple delight of dancing in the raindrops of God’s infinite goodness.

We also find that our inverted umbrellas will gather and hold these same gifts for others to partake and enjoy. There are enough blessings to share with everyone. Our discarded umbrellas of protection will instead become overflowing receptacles of these same bountiful gifts of God- for all who wish to join us in the dance.

When our daughter married, we not only gained a great son-in-law, we also gained 3 wonderful grandsons. It has been a pleasure getting to know them; a true joy to love them. The other day I was taking them home after school. One of the boys said something funny, and all of us began laughing- so hard that one worried that “snot would come out of his nose!”

The joy of that laughter will always be a treasured memory. But it also showed me how far we’ve come. The boys and I now trust one another enough to let go of our reserved demeanor. We are comfortable enough to laugh- ridiculously and loudly. Our relationship deepened that day. I know we are now more genuinely connected and relaxed with one another.

God gives me lots of reasons to laugh, and I hope the laughter is mutual. I hope that, even as I regard God with awe and majesty, my relationship with God is also intimate, relaxed, honest and free. I hope that I bring God joy with my foibles and silliness. I hope that God laughed with me on a morning walk a few months ago…

My walks are mindful times when I especially try to remain attentive to God and aware of any ways God may be working in or around me. I start to consider almost anything that catches my attention to be a source of inspiration or a possible message! But sometimes I wonder if God thinks I am trying too hard; that my efforts to glean inspiration are more about MY needs and not God’s.

On this particular morning, I saw what appeared to be a black tee shirt heaped in a lump on the sidewalk. I noticed some white lettering as I passed by, and I wondered if this might be a new message! Just for ME, from God! I turned back to get a closer look. I didn’t want to appear foolish, so I planned to pick up the shirt and hang it on a railing. Perhaps this would help the owner find it, but also give me a chance to discreetly read God’s word for me.

So I picked up the shirt, only to discover… it wasn’t a shirt. It was a pair of men’s black undershorts. The special word of inspiration God had for me? “Hanes.” Embarrassed, I quickly dropped the underwear. (Besides, I wasn’t sure anyone would appreciate seeing his underwear on display.)

I was gently and humorously reminded that everything isn’t always about me. I like to imagine God laughing at the joke on me! I know I did! And perhaps our silly little moment together deepened my intimacy with God, too. I don’t have to be dignified and reverent to be with God, and God can be silly with me. I believe that the Underwear Incident of 2017 served us both quite well.

PS: the image is not the actual black underwear. I still have a bit of dignity. 😀

On a recent walk I happened to find a penny on the side of the road. Many of you know that pennies have become a treasured reminder of God’s love for me. I often find them at especially appropriate times or in unusual places, so that I believe the finding is more than coincidence. So much of God’s movement is found in those little moments when we just pay attention enough to notice.

This particular penny was on the side of a busy road. It had obviously been there a while, as it was quite damaged, dirty, and nearly buried in the gravel. Upon picking it up I speculated about all of the incidents that took place in order for me to find this penny…

The road is a busy one with no houses facing it. Unlike a parking lot or store, there would be no reason for someone to be looking in a pocket or purse at this spot. I imagine someone in the neighborhood further up the road dropped the penny while exiting a vehicle and either didn’t notice or didn’t bother to pick it up. Eventually rains came and washed the penny down the hill to this lowest resting spot. Or perhaps a snow plow carried it along. There it remained, getting battered and buried for some time while no one else noticed it. I wouldn’t have either; I normally walk on the left side of the road, facing traffic. But on this day I decided to move to the right side so I could be more easily seen by oncoming traffic. That’s when I happened to look down and wonder, “Is that a penny in the dirt?”

I am thankful for the person who dropped this penny some time ago. God can use the smallest actions to make a difference. Even our little, insignificant, “unnoticed” acts of kindness may help someone along the way- or down the road. Never underestimate your power to change the world or your corner of the world. You may never know how you have impacted someone, but God is able to use it all. Life isn’t as random as we may think. Nor are we!

(Karen and Jim, Easter 2014)

Our past three years could be described as the proverbial “roller-coaster ride” of life. In 2014,  I was delighted to be called to serve in ministry with my husband Jim, who was a pastor at our dear church in Toledo. Nine months later, I learned that I had ovarian cancer. While I was undergoing chemotherapy, Jim was told that he had an aortic aneurysm. He had open heart surgery and two weeks later had a small stroke from a wayward clot. I then had my surgery and followed up with nine more weeks of chemotherapy. By Thanksgiving of 2015, we were especially thankful to be recuperating and slowly getting back into ministry and life.

We soon realized that we were different people. We no longer had the stamina nor the enthusiasm to serve well in ministry. Following a few months of prayer and discernment, Jim took a leave from his call and I resigned. We moved to a small apartment in West Virginia, to be close to our grandsons and nearer to the rest of our family. Earlier this year we moved into our lovely new home and have settled in well. Jim has found a career in sales, and I am staying with my grandsons after school while also writing my blogs and book.

I feel as if we have finally reached the end of our roller-coaster ride. We made it up the challenging, steep climbs. We savored breath-taking moments at the tops of the hills. We hung on through the fast and fearful free-falls. We made it. We are catching our breath, thankful for the ride but grateful for the relief. We are feeling a sense of accomplishment and are now ready to enjoy the rest of our lives.

But this morning it hit me… WHO AM I? AND WHAT DO I DO NOW?

So much of our identity is framed by what we do. I had been living out my roles as pastor’s wife, youth and education director, retreat leader, devotional writer, ministry organizer, hospitality host, and avid walker. My roles influenced how I related to others, how I reacted to situations, how I organized my life, and how I felt about myself. Now I am no longer doing most of those things. I am in a new home, a new state, a new church, and a new vocation. My walking pace has slowed and my distance has shortened. I almost feel that disoriented, queasy feeling one has at the end of a roller-coaster ride. My perspective is unclear. I imagine those of you who have retired or changed careers have felt much the same way. Who am I, REALLY?

But I am reminded that I am still, forever, a child of God. I am still a servant of God. I am still Karen, with unique gifts to share. There are a variety of ways to serve God; some are just less visible, out of the limelight. Whether I am leading a retreat or helping my grandsons with homework, I am still in ministry. I trust that there many opportunities yet to be discovered.

God says in Isaiah, “I am about to do a new thing, do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19). Perhaps there is another roller coaster ride in the near future. I’m truly hoping for a more peaceful ride to enjoy! But for today, I will exit the roller coaster and head to the nearby shade tree, where God is waiting to spend time with me… Karen, roller-coaster rider, searching soul, wandering wayfarer, humbled servant… but always, beloved child.