New Content – Betty's Thoughts

Jumbled Thoughts

It’s retirement time (at the end of August). I’m almost 70 (next March). My first-born child turns 40 in less than a week (how can that be!)? I’m a grandmother.

My goal (set longer ago than I want to admit) to re-energize my writing has not been accomplished. But I have 2 pages of ideas – just waiting for time to sit with them. Because I write to process, not just to write on a schedule. And I don’t post anything unless I think I have something worth saying.

There are so many great things in my life – friends, people who come visit, walks on the beach, a church home that nourishes me, a great small town to live and get involved in.

But there is sadness as well. Some is “normal” – friends going through health issues, or difficult situations, or walking through the Alzheimer’s journey with those they love.

And then there’s a deeper level. I grieve over the ways the church has not been the church in so many ways and in so many places to so many people. I grieve that it has not been the life-giving place of freedom for others that it has been for me. And that honest discussions about what the church should look like today face enormous hurdles.

I’m discouraged that community seems so much harder to find in our culture these days. It feels as if we’ve lost our ability to disagree with each other but remain friends. The accusations leveled against each other are strong and hurtful and often vile. The differences between preferences and convictions are ignored. I understand there are make and break issues for people, and there are appropriate places to take strong stands, but the tenor of conversation in general, in our current culture, grieves me. The breaks in relationship feel wrong. And I don’t completely know how to address it.

I’m confused by and concerned about many of the decisions being made at high levels in our country. And I have not yet figured out how to add my voice to those discussions in a meaningful way. But it feels like I need to try.

As all these thoughts swirl around in my mind and my spirit, I’m wanting to speak and act with wisdom and courage and compassion and conviction, where appropriate. I want to be a safe place for those conversations. I want to be able to be curious about how others see things without being cut off before we can have a real exchange.

So in this upcoming season of changes, I want to pause, rest, read, go deep with people and with the Lord, re-engage with Scripture in ways I haven’t done for a while. I believe there is adventure, growth and calling waiting to be stepped into – even in my 70s – and I want to listen well so I can hear the still, small voice directing my steps.

Friends and Community

Originally published in June 2012. Most of these people are still in my life and our friendships have grown deeper over the last 10 years.

Starting with an update. While I still work in Parent Ministry for Adventures in Missions, I now do it remotely from Florida. And once again, I am building community in a new location. My shyness and introversion still impact that – but not to the same degree they did 10 years ago. There’s a comfort level when I’m in new situations or new groups of people that is the result of 10 years of growth. I’m much less hesitant to initiate connection. And bit by bit, my new home feels like community.

But here’s where I was 11 years ago …

In June 2012 I returned to Georgia after a visit to Connecticut. It was my first visit back after moving to Georgia eleven months before. So here are some thoughts on friends and community – and what I’m being challenged to do.

It was wonderful to be back – to see friends and supporters and acquaintances. To visit familiar places. To eat Tulmeadow ice cream for dinner (and lunch). To worship with my church family. To have the long conversations over breakfast and lunch that are harder to do while I’m working full time in another state.

Friends are treasured gifts. And I have the best ones I could ever imagine. I lived in Connecticut for 17 years and deep, deep friendships grew there. We shared life together for a long time – part of it during a season where I needed more than my fair share of shoulders to cry on. I have friends I can confide anything to, that know how to have fun, that laugh, that talk about things that matter. Friends that I would trust with my life. There are friends that grew out of our kids’ connection, or a shared ministry at church, or co-workers at school. Some of them have driven hundreds of miles to see me since I’ve moved. Or made curtains for my new house. Or sent notes of encouragement at just the right time.

Good and deep and lasting friends are rare and I am grateful for them.

But I had something else in Connecticut. I had community – and I think that’s rarer. It’s harder to describe. I had it in a church community that loved me and cared for me and welcomed my gifts. Where I was able to serve and grow. Where 35 people showed up to do over 120 combined hours of work on a Saturday when I needed help getting the house ready to go on the market in the midst of an excruciatingly painful divorce. I had it in that same church community who held out the promise of healing. Yes, it was individuals who did the practical steps of walking me into that healing but I knew they were part of something bigger – a community that made that possible.

I had community in a small group. All of the individuals in the group were friends in their own right. But the small group was more than just a random collection of friends. There was a corporate aspect to it – a commitment to speak truth to each other, to support each other, to hold each other accountable, to challenge each other to grow. To do life together in practical ways. To paint each other’s houses, to watch movies together, to pray for each other. The effect was greater than the sum of its parts. It’s a group that made an annual trip to Disney, that worked together in ministry opportunities like Day Camp or tag sales, that can get together and pick up where we left off – despite the fact that I’m now in Georgia and another couple is in Indiana.

World Racers talk a lot about community when they return from the Race. They have experienced it – and they don’t want to lose it. I understand that.

I think friendships come easier than community does. But I no longer want to settle just for friendships. I think we need to be part of a community that brings life to us, that calls out the best in us, that challenges us, that does life with us on a day in and day out basis.

So – do I regret leaving all that behind to move to Georgia? It was the hardest part about moving but I discovered something on my trip back to Connecticut. As wonderful as it was to be there and to reconnect with friends, there was no second guessing my decision to move. I know I’m where I am supposed to be.

I sometimes wonder whether the community I had in Connecticut was a fluke, something that I will never have again. But I’m hopeful that as I continue to live life with friends and co-workers in Georgia, that it will happen. It’s worth the effort it takes to find it.

And so I’m challenged to step up my efforts to help create it. To overcome my shyness and my fear that people are too busy to want to spend an evening together eating dinner or playing games or taking walks. To confront my introversion and be better about inviting people (or maybe to team up with an extrovert who can do the inviting).

My insecurities cause me to want to be invited into community rather than being the initiator of it. There’s less fear of rejection that way. But I want to change that, to be proactive. I want to be someone who creates community, not just friendships.

My Uncomfortable Relationship With Praying For Healing

Originally written and published May 28, 2012 and I debated doing a major rewrite. But to be honest, I’m still working this out. I have, however, included an update – and I do pray more boldly.

I’ll start with the update. Ten years after I first wrote this, I have grown in boldness. And in praying immediately for someone when a need is mentioned. I still say “I’ll pray for you” – but I’ll also say “Can I pray for you right now?”

Somewhere along the way, I’ve lost most of my fear of “doing it wrong”. And I’ve increasingly let go of my misguided feelings that somehow the outcome is my responsibility.

However, I do still wrestle with the big picture at times. I’ve watched 2 young moms, with very young children left behind, die of cancer in the last year despite huge numbers of people storming the gates of heaven on their behalf. I’ve never believed there was a magic formula to guarantee healing, but some answers of “not now” or “not here on earth” are harder than others.

I’ve watched someone come through pancreatic cancer to health and I’ve seen others die from it. Why did it go one way for one and the other way for the others?

Aging also presents new challenges to me on how to pray. Am I bold enough to pray against the symptoms of normal aging? Is it presumptuous to pray that way? Should I just be praying for grace and peace and pain relief?

So there’s still some uncomfortableness. I don’t have it figured out. But I’m not at the same place I was 11 years ago.

Where I was eleven years ago:

I’ve always had an uncomfortable relationship with praying for healing. I can easily get caught up in “What if it doesn’t happen?” Or “What if I my faith isn’t strong enough to believe it will really happen? Or “What if this is the Lord’s time to take someone home?” The magnitude of what I’m asking when I pray for healing seems too overwhelming. And the “risk” of “doing it wrong” feels too high.

I believe in miraculous healings. I’ve seen them. I’ve heard stories from people I trust. So that’s not my problem. My problem is believing that I’m “good enough” for God to use me to bring it into existence. There’s a fear that I “can’t do it right”. And I become tentative. I know all sorts of things about my identity and authority in Christ – but in this area, it’s been hard for me to move from “knowing it” to “doing it”.

Even early on in my prayer journey, the catchall phrase “if it is Your will” felt wishy washy and self-protective – more about giving me an out than a true desire to acknowledge God’s power and sovereignty.

Francis McNutt’s book Healing helped some – introducing me to the concept that healing is an integral part of the gospel and not just a sign or wonder that accompanies the gospel proclamation. In Luke 4:18 Jesus proclaimed: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, ….” It provided some new theological understanding, but still left me praying tentatively.

Then I discovered Mary and Martha’s approach in John 11. When Lazarus became ill they sent a message to Jesus saying “Lord, the one you love is sick.” Throughout John we see people merely stating the problem to Jesus (sickness, lack of wine at the wedding, etc.) without telling Him how He should fix it.

So I clung to that “prayer” – Lord, the one you love is sick [or hurting or whatever the situation was]. It worked great. It got me off the hook of asking for a specific thing. And in many situations, it’s still a model I use today and that I believe is a good model when I don’t know how to pray.

Somewhere along the way, in preparing to do the parable of the insistent friend (Luke 11:5-8) in children’s ministry, the simplicity of it struck me. This parable comes in Jesus’ teaching about prayer and involves a man who goes to his neighbor late at night, after everyone is in bed, to request bread for a visitor who has arrived. It’s a bold and “inappropriate” thing to do – disturb his neighbor late at night. But it teaches us that intercessory prayer is boldly going to the One who can meet a need for someone else that we are unable to meet ourselves. So it helped me take a few baby steps in boldness.

But my hidden secret is that I’m afraid to pray boldly for healing. I think I’m better at praying faithfully than I am at praying boldly. And there is a difference. I believe Scripture affirms both as important but I know the Holy Spirit’s nudge is for me to learn more boldness.

The reality is that I can usually ignore my discomfort. But every so often something happens that disturbs this tentative equilibrium I’ve built. It forces me to face the fear I like to keep hidden.

This past week [in 2012] at World Race training camp, a young man was healed. After profound hearing loss for most of his life, requiring him to wear hearing aids, his team prayed for him and he was healed. The healing is profound. His parents confirmed that.

I hear similar reports on a regular basis – from the World Racers and from others. And sometimes, those stories begin to nag at me.

And at least temporarily, my yearning to be bold is stronger than my fearfulness about what won’t happen.

Why look back now?

[Note: I originally thought I’d hold off on new content – aside from a bit of context/updating – until I had revisted my journey of the last 11 years. But as I’ve looked back at where I’ve been, I find new thoughts stirring. For instance, it feels right to explain what prompted me to do this at this time. It’s a new part of my story. So I have decided to occasionally interject new content. I will generally identify it as new and it will most likely appear as the featured post, pinned to the top of the blog. This will allow new thoughts to be added, and given attention, while still providing a way to retell the other parts of my journey. Those older journey posts will likely come pretty often. If you’ve already followed that part of my story, feel free to ignore those notifications. If my story is new to you, just know that fairly constant posting will only be for this beginning season.]

One of the things I love about Scripture is it’s ability to impact me differently in different seasons of my life. Not that truth changes. But I see things I hadn’t noticed before. My life experiences give me new filters for looking at it and additional context for processing it. In some cases, with elapsed time I’ve stripped away some inappropriate cultural reading of it. Different things jump out at me depending on my level of woundedness or healing. And so on.

Last fall I was part of a Bible study group that looked at the Old Testament book of Joshua. It’s the story of the Israelites settling in the promised land after 40 years of wandering in the desert. I’m familiar with the events. The book contains the first Biblical character I ever identified with as a quiet teenager just trying to faithfully follow the Lord. There’s a lot of richness in the stories – and plenty of things to wrestle with as well.

I was expecting a good study. I was not expecting a strong challenge.

Over and over in Joshua, we see Joshua encouraging the tribes to “fully inherit” the land. They were occupying it. They were raising families there. They were planting crops and tending livestock and making it home. But the instruction still came to “fully inherit” it.

It was that sense of “there’s more” that struck me, that felt like a new observation. They had stopped short of what God had for them. They were missing out – and I believe they were missing out on both the personal level (God wanted to bless them) and on the role God was calling them to in the world.

In my life, I often feel prompted to “spend time with the Lord”, asking Him a particular question or about a particular subject. I don’t believe there’s one set format for doing that. For me, it might be journaling – writing the question and then writing whatever comes to mind, trusting that any necessary sorting out or discernment will happen as part of the process. It might be taking a walk without listening to anything as I do – just talking to myself in my mind while I try to listen to what the Lord might be saying. Or a similar process while driving. It can be more prayer-like, in the way people tend to think of prayer – but with times of quiet so that I can listen.

And how the Lord speaks to me can vary as well. Impressions, thoughts that feel out of character for me, what comes out during journaling, a sense of peace as I think about certain options, things jumping out at me as I read Scripture or other authors. I’ve learned to be honest with myself and that’s part of discerning what I hear – I tend to know when a challenge is good and right for me, even if I’m tentative or fearful. I also have others that I trust and I can turn to them for their wisdom, discernment and confirmation.

During and after the Joshua study, this was the one of the areas I felt prompted to ask the Lord about: What do You have for me that I have not fully stepped into? Where have I stopped short of something you want me to do (or that you want to bless me with)?

That’s where this blog comes in. For a few months I’ve felt the answer was “writing”. When I first started blogging 11 years ago, I was fairly consistent. It faded over the years – 8 posts in the last 5-1/2 years. I still don’t anticipate blogging on a specific schedule – as I say in “About Me” I only share when I think it’s worth sharing. I don’t have plans to grow this through my own efforts – although I love when friends and readers share it with others. I just believe I’m supposed to start writing again – and since the blogging platform at work has been through some substantial changes which make it more inaccessible, it felt like time to launch on a new platform.

I do know that at times my thoughts, my experiences and my journey resonate with others. It has opened up individual conversations at times in ways that I hope bring encouragement. And it has invited challenges from those whose experiences are different from mine. I love that as well.

So once again I’m stepping out in faith as I relaunch my blog.

Reflecting on a Journey

I blogged for the first time about 11 years ago. Months before that I had made a major change – uncharacteristic for me. I moved away from deep, deep friendships and a church that had been a lifesaver for me and landed 1000 miles away working for a non-profit, faith-based missions organization.

My life and emotions had been on a roller coaster. My husband had left after 25 years of marriage. I had to re-enter the job market after years of being a stay at home mom and volunteer. My kids were (appropriately) leaving home for college and other pursuits.

I felt a restlessness. After years of feeling I could barely breathe, I was feeling stronger and healed, less timid and fearful, and ready for a future – in many ways on my own – that looked very different from what I had anticipated for my mid-50s.

Blogging became a way of processing life and change. It was a way to share a story with others – hopefully a story that encourages them to believe that hope is possible even after deep valleys. That healing journeys toward wholeness are worth the pain and effort of taking them. To help people feel understood (they are not alone) and to help others understand people going through experiences they haven’t.

Since making the move in 2011, I’ve built Parent Ministry at Adventures in Missions – a chance to help parents vet us as an organization, understand what we do and why we do it, and to encourage them to see their son or daughter’s extended mission trip as an opportunity for a journey of their own.

So along the way, I’ve written some for parents as well.

I’m an inconsistent blogger. But I’m looking back at these years and it seems time to move onto a new platform, revisit the blogs I’ve written (do some tweaking and editing) and re-launch the story.

For the first few months, the primary content will post with little time between posts and it will be previously written material with some updating and additional reflection as appropriate.

After that, I think I have some new thoughts to share.

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