I don't know how to be connected to You, Jesus

(This is post 4 in a series that started here).

So I was just wondering, "Is it possible to become so centered on Father (and/or on Your Spirit) that one can kind of miss out on Jesus?"

I mean, it's pretty easy to "know" another human being for a long time, and then to suddenly realize that there's a whole part(s) of that person that you really don't know at all. And to feel lonely, pushed away, locked out by that person, even in a supposedly close relationship with him or her.

But You don't lock us out, do You? Maybe we lock ourselves out? Maybe we feel that You are so great that we are afraid to take on more than a little bit of You. So we kind of create an image of You for ourselves that we feel more comfortable with. Or maybe we just avoid going deeper because we think it will take too much effort. Maybe we don't want to lose ourselves in the process of coming into knowing You, and coming into oneness with You. Maybe we are just confused, with all the things we've been taught about You over the years by different people, and it seems impossible and exhausting to really get to know You, love You, obey You, follow You.

What if I've been going down rabbit tracks all this time? What if the "gospel" I've been believing and teaching isn't the true gospel. What if it isn't You? I'm trying to tell myself that it's a journey, and I've just not experienced all of it yet. But what if the road is narrow, and either I've not found it (You - the Way) at all?

Dear Jesus, how do I center on You? Do I, even? What does it mean? You centered on Father. And I've tried to follow Your example, by centering on, knowing, Him too. But maybe I can't really know Him until I know You? Didn't you say that, or something like that?

I feel lost. I feel separated from You, Jesus. I don't even know how to be connected to You. What if I just screw up again?

Jesus calls me. To Himself, the center. But?

(This is post 3 in a series that started here).

So I asked to be awakened early, if that's what God wanted. To be with Jesus. To get to the Living Answer. To even be changed by Him (oh I wish).

And yes, He has been waking me. I don't wake up full of energy like that woman in the story. Very often I wake very tired. My body and mind protest. I yawn. I groan and pull the blankets around me and wish to go back to sleep. Sometimes - far too often - I do. But again and again He calls me. Gently. Fills me with longing for Him. One day I wrote, "I am talking to, speaking with, You. And yes, knowing You are here with me. Really sensing Your Presence. Knowing You are listening. Nodding. Smiling. Encouraging me to continue. You draw me to You. Like I'm sitting at Your feet, having a real conversation with You."

"I want to hear from You. Clearly. Really, really wanting. To hear Your voice. To be led by You. My shepherd, pastor, teacher, Lord, King, Elder Brother, Counselor. Father, Holy Spirit, Jesus. My God."

"To be honest, I am scared to ask, but, do You have a word just for me, right now, here, today, this moment? (Am I even special enough for that? Have I failed You too much, too often? Am I even smart enough? What about that I am 'just a woman' thing?)"

And I hear His voice. "My child, I love you. Come all the way to Me. Give up everything else. Trust My Love. That's all."

I want to. It sounds so simple. So wonderful. Jesus at the center. It must be what I've been missing out on.

But. Isn't Jesus for children? (Well, okay, and for grown-up people too, to "get saved." But then aren't we supposed to go on to "deeper things?" Aren't we?)

Oh. I am a child, right? God's child. So okay. But children need tough love, don't they? Children are self-centered, right? I know I'm self-centered, for sure. You have been working on my "self" for years. But still, have I really "died to my self"? I don't know. I certainly don't think I have been centered on Jesus. More likely I've been centered on things like theology and churchianity. And on me.

Okay, listen. I have really encountered Father recently. And Your Spirit, too. But I'm not so sure about You, Jesus. I've been astounded by Father's love (amazing, after years of fearing the whole father image). So. I'm also wondering: is it possible to become so centered on Father (and/or on Your Spirit) that one can kind of miss out on Jesus?

30 days of me

I've taken up the "30 days of me" challenge over at my Conversations, Reflections and Meditations blog.  Check out today's post (day 5) here, and while you're there, learn more about me by checking out the other posts and pictures.  And be sure to check out the rest of the website, too!

Here are a couple hints about today's post!

Jesus the living answer. But still lacking connection.

(This is post 2 in a series that started here)
So one day I was reading Joshua 1:8, about meditating on "this book of the Law" and doing "all that is written in it." And then thinking about how in Galatians Paul tells us Jesus fulfilled the law and freed us from it. And I wrote, "If the law was completely fulfilled in Jesus, we really are in a totally new way. Jesus Himself - the Way, the Truth, the Life." But then I got befuddled again. "I know, Father, that You are with me wherever I go, and never forsake me. But is it because of Jesus' sacrifice? Or because You are love? Or because I meditate on Your Law?" I wrote and wrote. Questions. Puzzlement. Intellectualizing, again. And then, strangely enough, a quote from The Shack popped into my mind. Something Jesus says, in the story. "Mack, you don't need to have it all figured out. Just be with me."

So I looked in that book again. (The one some of my dearest friends tell me is heresy. Well, it's a book. And being written by a human, no doubt it has its problems. Don't we all? Still, God speaks in unexpected ways. Best to be careful about our labels). And I read where Sarayu (Holy Spirit, the One who points us to Jesus) says, "The Bible... is a picture of Jesus. While words may tell you what God is like and even what he may want from you... Life and living is in him and in no other... rules will never give you answers to the deep questions of the heart and they will never love you... religion is about having the right answers, and some of the answers are right. But I am about the process that takes you to the living answer and once you get to him, he will change you from the inside." That got me excited.

But life whizzed by. A month plus later, I wrote, "I've been so lonely for You. And yet, just seem unable to really make any serious connection. Afraid actually. Afraid of starting and ending in failure. Afraid that I am too old, too tired, too out-of-date, too mommy/ grandma/ woman." Then I read a blog post. The writer, a woman, said she wanted time alone with Jesus. But no matter how she tried, she couldn't find time. A friend told her, "Just ask." She did. She thought the only practical time would be early morning, but that she'd be too tired. So she prayed, asking Jesus to wake her if He wanted. And He did. And gave her the energy. For the past 25 years. So I thought, "Well, it wouldn't hurt for me to ask." So I did.

What about Jesus? Wanting more.

Yes, I know "the facts," historical and doctrinal. Yes, I have believed in Jesus, accepted Him. Yes, I love Him. But despite years of being able to say those things, I have always felt something is missing. Like I have been longing for something to do with Him, but not sure what it is. And lately, that longing has been growing.

In October, I wrote in my journal: "Maybe Father is stripping, burning away, things in our lives that we have gotten so focused upon that they come between us and Him. I really have thought I have been centering on Jesus - or at least on Father. I'm still having a bit of confusion about how the Father-Jesus-Spirit Godhead works out in relationship with Him/Them. I have also had a long-held presupposition that "being a good Christian" equals being an intellectual Christian. I know that walking with Jesus in relationship, which includes reasoning but is so much more, is key. But I still have this fear that if I'm not primarily an "intellectual Christian" I won't be a "good Christian" and won't be useful, or approved either, to God."

A bit later, I wrote, "Oh, please dear God, help me to walk where You walk, see what You see, do as You do. Please. I want to hear You, speak to You, do Your will for me, share with and live with Your family, be a servant like Jesus. I want to "practice Your Presence." I want to know You, love You, obey You, serve You. I love You, Lord. Thank You for loving and forgiving me. Thank You, Jesus, for dying for my sins." And yes, I mean that. But.

Another day, I wrote, "Father, I do need to sing with others. And pray with others. And share You with others. And "break bread" with others. And share my life, my walk with You, with others in (and out) of Your family. Daily." I thought for a moment that maybe what I need is to be part of a new, different, "better" church group. But there is something more, something deeper and wider and more foundational that I am somehow missing. Something my dreams and wishes, and organizing my projects and getting busy on them, and even real participation in the church of Jesus can't fill up.

A couple weeks later I wrote, "I'm getting less interested in doctrinal "issues," and more and more longing to just know Jesus, know Father, hear and flow with the Holy Spirit. I've been discouraged by the pettiness and infighting I see on so many fronts (Arminianism/Calvinism, church structures and non-structures, postmodernism/traditionalism). Today, in the comments following a blog posting today by a guy who just said he wants to really KNOW God, there developed a huge flaming, by some readers, about Christ's deity. I, like him, was sad to see that. I do not want to get caught up in all that other STUFF."

(More, later).

what I am up to

I haven't been posting much here (but I am working on a new "pages" section of the blog entitled "My Church Journey - being the church."  You can check it out by clicking on the link at the top of the blog.  More to come, but it's definitely started.)

I am working a lot more on a couple other sites.  I have pretty much "gutted" my Pen and Paper Mama site, and though you probably can't tell by just looking, I've been doing a lot of background work on it.

At my Conversations, Reflections, and Meditations site, I have added a blog.  Since the site is especially about my family (and our Haida connection), and also my stories and writing, starting today and for the next month, I will be doing the "30 days of me" blog challenge.  Today of course is day one.  Do feel free to check it out.

Over at the Another Chance Street Ministry site, I've continued to work on changes, and updates.  Yesterday I took a whole slew of pictures, so keep an eye on the site and on the blog to see what we're up to.

I have actually written a couple of new "church journey" posts for this site, but they are queued up for editing first.  I am seriously trying to keep my posts short and concise.

Christian cussing!

Over at The Ekklesia in Southern Maine, Dan Allen has launched a Christian cuss word contest.  The questions he asks are:

Do you have fond memories of your first car? Did it inspire you to cuss up a storm (Christian or otherwise)?

Well, I started to answer in the comments, but as usual, my storytelling got away on me, and my answer was much too long for a simple comment.  So I've just left a teaser over there, and directed folks to come here for the rest of the story.  Here it is.  Enjoy!

When I was in grade 12 (1973), our province initiated "scholarship exams" in which those students who chose to do so, could write special final exams in grade 12 academic subjects, and if they got high enough marks, they would be awarded a $200 scholarship cheque.

Of course they were assuming we'd use it for our higher education, but when I got my cheque, I bought my first car, a sweet, pure, white 1964 slant-six Valiant.  That little vehicle could go and go and go.  Gas was 50 cents a gallon, and I spent $2 a week on gas, and $10 a year on insurance.  Other than oil changes, which I did myself, and a set of new tires, the only other money I spent on her was $4 for a used gas tank from the wrecker after her gas tank rusted out.  She took myself and my friends everywhere, on- and off-road (we called her a tank in disguise).

My only problem was that my brother hated to ride in the passenger seat while his sister drove.  Very hard on his manly dignity, especially when the car was packed with all his buddies.  And packed it often was, as there were no seat-belt laws.  So whenever he got the chance, he'd twist my arm to let him drive.

Anyway, as we were a fairly "Christianly" group, unused to cussing, my little Valiant had been pretty much spared choking on blue air. One particular night, we all piled into her, and drove down the valley to a "Christian coffee house" (very popular in the early 70s) in another community.  We hung out there until midnight or so, and then piled back in her to head home.  My brother had begged to drive, till I finally gave in. 

Now that he was the man, in the driver's seat, the power went to his head, and he started to show off, driving like a maniac.  All his buddies were howling and cheering him on.  We came to a major intersection, deserted at that time of night, and my brother took my poor little car into the center of that intersection and spun her round and round, her tires smoking, rubber sticking to the road.  Finally she squealed to a halt.

I flung open the passenger door, leaped out, and stared with dismay at my poor little car's now much balder tires.  I ran around to the driver's side, flung the door open, and ordered my brother out.  He refused.  I grabbed him and pulled with all my might.  He stumbled out of the car, and we stood there in the disapating blue smoke of the tires.  I yelled at him.  He yelled at me. The guys in the car hooted. I demanded the keys.  He glared at me, then stretched out his arm, and flung the keys far off into the darkness. 

And then he started cussing at the top of his voice.  Not just the minor little Christian-youth-group slang we sometimes daringly tossed around, but real, nasty, scary swear words.  They poured out, one after another, finally culminating in the *f* word.  The air was blue, blue, blue!

And suddenly there was silence.  No one spoke.  Everyone held their breath.  My poor little car quivered in pain.  Head hanging down, my brother eventually slunk around to the passenger door and got in.  I searched around in the darkness and finally found the keys.  Getting in the driver's seat, I gently started her engine, and pulled carefully out of the intersection, and drove my poor baby home.  No one spoke a word the entire way.  And we never mentioned the incident.

Years later, when my brother had become a youth pastor, and his kids were in their late teens, and drivers themselves, I told them the story.  They thought it was hilarious.  My brother, however, was not amused.  But that's another story for another day.