Back pain is a pain in the ….back.
At the beginning of last week I found myself in terrible pain. My lower back down to my feet ached without respite.
The Dr said it is a disc problem, likely herniated, and ordered pain killers, anti- inflammatories, imaging, and rest. After checking my blood pressure, she changed her mind- my blood pressure was extremely high. (Apparently anti- inflammatories increase blood pressure.) So she ordered that I go on blood pressure medication and once that is under control, I will start the anti- inflammatories.
I have not slept well in over a week, there is no position that is comfortable and despite the pain killers, the pain is still enough to keep me up.
On Wednesday of last week I woke up at three and the pain wouldn’t allow me to get back to sleep. A thought popped into my head- “Gene Edwards”. I hadn’t read a book by him in a long time and he always challenged me. I go out of bed and hobbled downstairs and grabbed a book off the shelf by my favorite author. I had never even read the back of the book so I had no idea what I would be reading about. The book deals with the question of suffering and pain.
I was challenged that sometimes physical suffering is the only way for our spirit to grow, and that God allows us to suffer to “refine” us.
My pain has taken on a whole new meaning for me, and I am embracing it, thankful for the opportunity to grow, to come to the end of my physical limitations so my spirit can be exercised.
I also am finding more compassion for those who suffer from chronic pain, and for those who self medicate…I looked for anything in our med cupboard to try to relieve the discomfort after only a few minutes of pain.
I really enjoy a cup of coffee…or two or three.
Last weekend I spent a day and a half of silence in retreat while “praying through the arts”. As I settled into the peace of silence and poured myself a cup of coffee, I was astounded at the taste. Without distraction of noise to pull my attention away, the flavour filled my mouth and caused me to ponder the bitter sweet mix of bean, sugar and cream.
It is hard not to want to fill the vacuum of silence, I seem to be uncomfortable just sitting with someone not filling the air with words, but more and more I am aware that people listen to people who listen.
I have been stretched in my definition of prayer. I struggled for years trying to pray long periods of time, getting up early, trying formulae prayers. I still choose to get up early because that is when I find the least distractions and it allows me silence.
Understanding that giving back my talents to God is an amazing form of prayer has opened me up to new prayer experiences. As I paint, I paint with God, I become a co- creator with Him, it is only His image within me that can birth works of art. As I play guitar and sing, I allow His music to flow through me, He is the one who created music and the ability to perform.
Finding ways of connecting with my Creator have made me want to pray more. When prayer can be mourning or lamenting… yelling at God.. going for a run…asking why…canoeing….painting… playing music or sitting in silence I am able to pray without ceasing.
We held a Christmas Eve service after the Saturday evening meal at the Life Centre. The service was split up into a number of readings where people took on the role of a key person in the Nativity.
I was delighted to see a friend playing the role of the Inn Keeper and so delighted that this man, who if you asked him, may describe himself as an atheist, was included in the readings.
After he read his part he went to the side of the room and began to get out the candles that would be passed out as a representation of the Light of the World. He then got out a lighter and began to light the candles and pass them to those seated.
Imagine…an atheist passing the Light of The World.
I was reminded of something a good friend often speaks about- the name of God. YHWH or Yahweh- it is pronounced like breathing. Every living breathing thing says His name every time they take a breathe, He sustains EVERYONE, whether they know it or not.
We are image bearers… even when we don’t do the things we should do…even when we hurt each other…even when we hurt God.
This year I am actually going to make a resolution. I am resolving to write in my blog at least once a week! If anyone is out there, feel free to keep me accountable.
He was well spoken and cheerful seeming. He said things weren’t going well but that he was holding on. He was homeless, jobless and unable to access social services… but he commented “crisis is just another word for opportunity!”
Amazing- how often do I think that my petty problems are really an opportunity? Most often I complain about the smallest inconvenience, like sitting at a red light for 25 seconds.
I like to think that this world can be lived in a way that transcends the mundane, that cleaning a toilet can be kneeling at the throne of heaven, and loving those that no one else loves, is loving Jesus himself. I often encounter Jesus… but he more often shows up looking ragged than well put together.
I am encouraged by this man, who seems down on luck, but sees opportunity in life, despite the circumstances. I pray that God will continue to open my eyes to His reality, that we can live an abundant life in spite of the situation.
Friendship.
I want to love without condition, without agenda, without the feeling of needing to help or save others.
I have been reflecting on ministry and how I see myself building relationship with those around me and have come to realize that I have stopped eating with our guests, not because I don’t want to but because I want to be available to “help” those who need it.
It seems that there are many that want to see me, that have needs and I do want to be available to help them, but I have been challenged that I am not their saviour, I am not the helper….and I need to sit and eat. I need to break bread and remember the broken body and the blood of Jesus Christ and I need to do this while sitting across from those I am in relationship with.
For me, to be the one who helps with problems is easy, but to be a friend, a real friend can be difficult…to walk with someone through the mess without answers… to have no insight…but to be present.
I pray that God will give me grace to give and receive as a friend and will develop deep relationships around the table he has provided.
A 10 hour drive faced us as we piled into the mini van. While we were looking forward to the destination, we wanted desperately to enjoy the journey.
A 30 km stretch in New Hampshire ended up taking 6 hours as we stopped at every lookout, hiking trail and waterfall we saw.
Creation is amazing! I felt close to the creator as we enjoyed His creativity, His Majesty.
At the end of the day we realized that we had spent way more time on the journey then thinking about where we needed to be. At 1030pm we drove across the border at St Stephen’s New Brunswick….well… it was 1030pm until we crossed the border then it was 1130pm, we forgot about the time change.
This was the only night that we hadn’t booked our sleeping arrangements and the camp ground was closed. Every hotel in town was full of tourists. While one hotel offered a chance to “dicker” over the price of the room, they ended up without a room to offer.
Lack of planning left us with one option- sleeping in the van. At 3 in the morning I woke up and realized that my wife, Leanne, hadn’t slept at all (not a good way to start a family vacation). I drove an hour in “pea soup” fog to St John’s and we found a cheep hotel that had a spare room.
The day was a good reminder of the Creator’s majesty and of man’s foolishness.
The rest of the vacation was amazing, even though it rained every day!
“He loved you!”
Those were the words that my cousin’s mother whispered in my ear at his funeral last week, they were repeated by his sister.
We didn’t see each other a lot, not even once every year, but Scott kept in contact with me and we laughed and lamented over the issues of our broken homes and divorce over the phone or facebook.
When we were kids, we spent summers at camps together, always ending up in some sort of issue: there was the year that i got in a fist fight with a counsellor, the year he shot another camper in the “wallet” with a pellet gun, the year we wedged the camp director’s car between two trees….
Scott was my family member and friend. I knew that I could trust him with any of my darkest secrets and they would never be shared. My experiences with Scott were of a genuine, caring person who had a way with people. Despite hard circumstances, Scott kept a positive attitude and always had a smile for others.
He was someone I considered a great friend. I loved him and to hear that those who were closest to him recognized his love for me was humbling and honoring to me.
I hope that when I leave this world, those who I love will hear those words. That those around me will have recognised my love for those I came in contact with.
Large maple trees ran along the edge of the field, their branches reaching upwards. They were beautiful and strong and yet as I looked closer I noticed as I passed each one, they all had wounds. Limbs torn off by a strong wind…cut off by someone wanting to keep a nice shape… or even by children playing.
The wounds actually lent to the thickness and strength of the trunks. The trees had grown to heal the wound, wood had formed over the once open sores but you could still see the effects of the pruning. The wounds did not detract from the beauty either, in fact the gnarled and nobby trunks spoke of perseverance.
I have often tried to hide those parts of me that are wounded, afraid that others may use those tender points to manipulate or judge me…but I wonder if I would point to Jesus more if I allowed my wounds to be a source for people to see where I had been healed, where I had been given perseverance to get through tough times.
Jesus continued to sport His wounds even after his body was raised and was perfect. He was able to “transport” get ito locked rooms…but he chose to show his wounds.
I pray that God will give me grace to allow people to see my wounds and through them, the one who did the pruning!
I sometimes struggle with feeling like I am inadequate. I have 1.5 years of Fine Art under my belt, no real training to do the ministry that I am involved with…no letters behind my name….nothing.
I was speaking with a couple of guest the other day and they asked me what made me qualified to do the job, what was it that made me so good with people- the only answer is that God’s love is within me. I can’t take credit for any of the changes that happen in those that seek my help- I have nothing to give.
I was reminded of the story in Acts 3 where Peter and John heal the lame beggar at the Beautiful Gate. When the beggar calls out to them for money Peter responds-” I don’t have a nickel to my name, but what I do have, I give you.”
Many of us don’t have it all together, most of us are still broken and we haven’t achieved the spiritual level that we would would like. Some of us struggle with anger, with deceipt, with lust…but will we give what we have?
I pray that God will use me – my failures, my short comings, my brokenness. What I have I give…my time, my energy, the love that flows through me because of the one who lives in me.
