Check your pride at the door.
Check your dignity at the door.
Replace these things with humility. Worship as David did, undignified before the Lord.
I was really anxious about going to this year's Unstoppable Love Women's Retreat (Revolution Church). I attended the previous year's retreat with the main goal of connecting with women. I remember feeling like a total newbie at the church, since I could not attend the Sunday services. I remember having a terrible migraine (not good), crying a lot (good) and being held and prayed over (very good.)
This year, I felt deep-down in my core that my set mission for this retreat was going to go beyond making friends. As a Pro-Avoid-er, I told my husband (about a dozen times) that I wasn't going, and he stayed patient. "It's your decision, Babe," he repeated. I made a list of all the reasons why I was nervous or why I should stay home. I was looking for excuses. But the list did not give me peace.
I shared with some dear friends that I was having some anxiety about going. They listened, asked thoughtful questions, and they prayed for me that whatever it was holding me back would be resolved. I knew I was trying to avoid something good, and I was letting fears get in the way.
Once I made the decision not to go, I knew it was the wrong decision. Regardless of finances, worry or whatever else the Enemy would throw my way I was going to go. I said yes.
***
As I was leaving town, a friend called with word for me. She and I had been reading about the miracle of Jesus turning water into wine as past of a small group we were both in. She asked me: "What does the headwaiter say about the wine?" I respond, "He was impressed that they saved the best for last." She says ah-ha, and continues, "No, read it again! It says 'Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best til now.' It does not say last, it says NOW!" Her and I ruminated on the passage. And we both knew in our heart of hearts that God wanted the best for NOW - not later, not at the very end, but now. He cares immeasurably more than I could ever imagine about me at this very moment. It sounded weirdly perfect, and I held onto the promise. (John, Chapter 2)
***
I drove myself, listening to the radio and thinking about a million miles a minute. I stopped flipping the channels when I caught Terry Gross from Fresh Air interviewing a sculptor named Andy Goldsworthy, whose work sounded magical and mysterious. He sees wonderful beauty in nature, where his medium is fallen trees, leaves, ice, water, stones, wood and all-things-natural and his canvas is everywhere. He is patient, careful, persistent and thoughtful. His art could last years, changing through the seasons as decay and weather shape its new existence. His art could last minutes. That is the beauty. I learned about rainshadows and the word ephemeral. I was inspired to create, to think, to pray, to seek the beauty around me.
***
I arrived late, not a surprise as I drove myself and had a billion things to do between getting off work and hitting the road (Food for Dave - check. Cats taken care of - check. Shower - check. Pack - check. Get gas - check. Snacks - check.) I knew everyone was meeting at the local Lutheran church for worship and ministry. We had grown out of our old meeting space, an exciting sign of growth for the church.
I entered the building, taking in the stained glass, rows of pews and the quilted tapestries so-familiar in older churches. I was at first confident, spotting familiar faces and feeling inundated with the sound of worship. I found a seat in a back pew. As I was about to take off my fleece pullover, a woman stood up, walked to me and gave me a hug, welcoming me to the retreat. It felt really nice. But then she whispered in my ear, "You can't sit there. Someone else is sitting there, she just left for the bathroom."
Pain to the heart. I immediately felt two feet tall, awkward, unwelcomed and unloved. Why I had to go first to those terrible feelings, I don't know. But its real. I got up, walked to the back and leaned against the wall. The wall fell backwards as it was just a partition. My face blazed. I froze. Nowhere to go. I couldn't find a spot, I didn't know what was taken or not.
***
Worship ends and I am waved over to an empty space on a pew. Relief is all I felt. I sit, intent to listen and get myself ready for whatever God has for me. But I feel the wall is up around my heart and I don't know how to shake it.
***
"I had a vision," Kim, the women's ministry director, speaks over us. "I had a vision during worship where angels were at the door, welcoming us in. They looked like waiters, or ushers, and they were ready for us, asking to take our coats as we arrived. But instead of coats, what they wanted was our pride."
My heart leaps to my throat, and my brain immediately whirls with thoughts. I WAS welcomed in this space; God wanted me here. When I about to take off my fleece, God was asking me to take off my pride. To get comfortable. To enjoy. To rest. But I was interrupted, and I kept my fleece on; therefore, I kept my pride on and it became a hindrance. I knew in my heart, I needed to let go of my pride this weekend, and that God had plans for me.
ON MY AMAZON WISHLIST:
Rivers & Tides (2001)
This year, I felt deep-down in my core that my set mission for this retreat was going to go beyond making friends. As a Pro-Avoid-er, I told my husband (about a dozen times) that I wasn't going, and he stayed patient. "It's your decision, Babe," he repeated. I made a list of all the reasons why I was nervous or why I should stay home. I was looking for excuses. But the list did not give me peace.
I shared with some dear friends that I was having some anxiety about going. They listened, asked thoughtful questions, and they prayed for me that whatever it was holding me back would be resolved. I knew I was trying to avoid something good, and I was letting fears get in the way.
Once I made the decision not to go, I knew it was the wrong decision. Regardless of finances, worry or whatever else the Enemy would throw my way I was going to go. I said yes.
***
As I was leaving town, a friend called with word for me. She and I had been reading about the miracle of Jesus turning water into wine as past of a small group we were both in. She asked me: "What does the headwaiter say about the wine?" I respond, "He was impressed that they saved the best for last." She says ah-ha, and continues, "No, read it again! It says 'Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best til now.' It does not say last, it says NOW!" Her and I ruminated on the passage. And we both knew in our heart of hearts that God wanted the best for NOW - not later, not at the very end, but now. He cares immeasurably more than I could ever imagine about me at this very moment. It sounded weirdly perfect, and I held onto the promise. (John, Chapter 2)
***
I drove myself, listening to the radio and thinking about a million miles a minute. I stopped flipping the channels when I caught Terry Gross from Fresh Air interviewing a sculptor named Andy Goldsworthy, whose work sounded magical and mysterious. He sees wonderful beauty in nature, where his medium is fallen trees, leaves, ice, water, stones, wood and all-things-natural and his canvas is everywhere. He is patient, careful, persistent and thoughtful. His art could last years, changing through the seasons as decay and weather shape its new existence. His art could last minutes. That is the beauty. I learned about rainshadows and the word ephemeral. I was inspired to create, to think, to pray, to seek the beauty around me.
***
I arrived late, not a surprise as I drove myself and had a billion things to do between getting off work and hitting the road (Food for Dave - check. Cats taken care of - check. Shower - check. Pack - check. Get gas - check. Snacks - check.) I knew everyone was meeting at the local Lutheran church for worship and ministry. We had grown out of our old meeting space, an exciting sign of growth for the church.
I entered the building, taking in the stained glass, rows of pews and the quilted tapestries so-familiar in older churches. I was at first confident, spotting familiar faces and feeling inundated with the sound of worship. I found a seat in a back pew. As I was about to take off my fleece pullover, a woman stood up, walked to me and gave me a hug, welcoming me to the retreat. It felt really nice. But then she whispered in my ear, "You can't sit there. Someone else is sitting there, she just left for the bathroom."
Pain to the heart. I immediately felt two feet tall, awkward, unwelcomed and unloved. Why I had to go first to those terrible feelings, I don't know. But its real. I got up, walked to the back and leaned against the wall. The wall fell backwards as it was just a partition. My face blazed. I froze. Nowhere to go. I couldn't find a spot, I didn't know what was taken or not.
***
Worship ends and I am waved over to an empty space on a pew. Relief is all I felt. I sit, intent to listen and get myself ready for whatever God has for me. But I feel the wall is up around my heart and I don't know how to shake it.
***
"I had a vision," Kim, the women's ministry director, speaks over us. "I had a vision during worship where angels were at the door, welcoming us in. They looked like waiters, or ushers, and they were ready for us, asking to take our coats as we arrived. But instead of coats, what they wanted was our pride."
My heart leaps to my throat, and my brain immediately whirls with thoughts. I WAS welcomed in this space; God wanted me here. When I about to take off my fleece, God was asking me to take off my pride. To get comfortable. To enjoy. To rest. But I was interrupted, and I kept my fleece on; therefore, I kept my pride on and it became a hindrance. I knew in my heart, I needed to let go of my pride this weekend, and that God had plans for me.
ON MY AMAZON WISHLIST:
Rivers & Tides (2001)
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