I Am the Rich Young Ruler

I spent most of the night yesterday at Parkland Hospital, the county hospital where the majority of the poor and uninsured go when they are sick or injured. My friend works as an OT at Parkland in the burn unit. She has been experiencing some neurological abnormalities so she went to the ER to be seen by a Parkland Neurologist. Though she was enjoying some personal benefits of being a Parkland Employee, we still had to pass through a sea of people to find her in one of the hundreds of make-shift beds lined up in the hall. There was not one square foot that did not have the word “patient” above a bed or chair in the hall. The rooms were reserved for those who needed special monitoring or those who had been admitted with traumatic injuries.

The large waiting room was full of people who knew they would be waiting for hours on end because they were down the line in the triage system. I was in the elevator with one man who said he had been up 24 hours and couldn’t wait any longer so he was going home to sleep and return the next morning. Blood pressure cuffs were handed out as those waiting had their vitals checked to see if they needed to be moved up in the line.

As a former, middle class, white female I tried to imagine being down there with one of my grandchildren or being indigent with no strings to pull and no power to take control of my health care. I saw first hand what it would be like to be at the mercy of the system. My nice north Dallas doctor’s office with nice furniture and a nice receptionist is like going to the doctor at the Ritz. And my insurance picks up the bill!

Today I am embarrassed to acknowledge that I live in an isolated world. I don’t have to face people who can’t pay their bills. I don’t have to see people who are powerless over their basic needs. I don’t see people who were born into a system of poverty with very little chance of breaking free. I don’t see people who are sick and have to walk or find public transportation to a crowded ER. I don’t see anything but my comfortable home, with my comfortable life style and all of the “things” I use to keep me busy and put me in situations where I don’t have to see. God forgive me for not doing anything for people in my community who need my help. Surely, this is what Jesus calls us to do. But I’ve become the rich young ruler.
Click on the envelope below to send to a friend.

Yelling and Pleading with God

Many of you know that I have a severely disabled son, Ricardo. When I first adopted him at age five, I prayed and prayed for God to heal him of his past that tormented him and caused aggressive behaviors born out of his survival for self protection. Through the years, his mental limitations and emotional struggles were attributed to much more than his past. Several years ago he was finally diagnosed with a rare genetic disease that progresses as he gets older. Watching him decline is sad beyond words. Most days, I can get by with gratitude for the life we’ve shared or the small window of light that still finds a way to occasionally shine in his eyes. There are rare times that he perks up when he sees old friends or he’s in a room full of people.

But most days, he is trapped in an anxious, weakened body that only finds relief when he sleeps.

On Sunday, I heard a song called, “I Will Be Free.”

I will be free,
I will be free to run the mountains
I will be free
Free to drink from the living fountain…

And I'll dance on silver moonlight
And I'll walk through velvet fields
And I'll run into the arms that set me free
For I will be free

I burst into tears as I saw Ricardo whole, healed and running up the mountain. Then I began begging, yelling and pleading with God to heal him. As I pictured him running again as he did when he was five or smiling and laughing as he did only a few years ago, I woke up from the miracle of his healing to the reality that only in death will Ricardo be healed. But I am not ready to let him go! If I entertain those pictures, I feel like I’m giving in to death.

There is no answer! There is no relief for him, outside of God intervening. And with over twenty years of praying for healing I just don’t believe that is going to happen in this life. So on day three of longing for my son from years past, I watch him sleep and stare at his face. I’m grateful for each breath he takes and I’m lost in my thoughts of what could have been, if only….

• Think of a time in your life when your heart was breaking and it appeared as though God was silent.
• Have you allowed time, expressed sadness and grief to help you heal or have you lived in denial, pushing down hurt and pain?
• Do you have a safe community that will allow you to be broken and allow God the time and space to prepare you for living with loss?

I could have ended this story with the truth of God’s comfort and presence in the pain. But there are times when the story must be told in the midst of our deepest sadness before we move on to acceptance.
Click on the envelope below to send to a friend.

Who Cares about Who The President Is When....

I’ve spent the last two days in Houston at Texas Children’s hospital with my son Ricardo. He has a genetic disorder that is progressive and untreatable. We met with two new specialists who are going to try to help him walk again.

On the way to the hospital, in the hotel shuttle, there was a woman in her second round of breast cancer going to MD Anderson for treatment. She makes the trip every three months but she probably won’t survive. When we got back to the hotel, the talk overheard in the lobby and on the news was all about the Republican National Convention. After spending the day with other parents at a hospital that specializes in research and the treatment of very sick kids, it was no surprise that a multi-billion dollar campaign didn’t make much sense to me.

So what I wish I had told my youth group thirty-five years later is: few things matter when you hear the words, “You have breast cancer.” Or,“I’m sorry but your child is going to die.” Few things matter when you leave your father at an Alzheimer’s facility and he looks out the door wondering where he is and why you’re leaving him.

There are other tragedies you have endured such as finally giving up on your dream of a happy marriage as you sit in unbearable pain knowing your spouse is not in love with you anymore, hearing the news that your child took his life, seeing the test results that confirm you have AIDS or the initial shock that your son was not born perfect like all the other kids and is going to be disabled his entire life. He will never marry, graduate from high school, or have children.

Notice what all of these situations have in common. They are all about relationships. The most beautiful and the most painful moments in life are ALWAYS about relationships. So why do we spend most of our time trying to gain power, success and large bank accounts? Though politics, church, making a living and even standing for values that you believe in are a part of life, everything stands still when sorrow and suffering take your hand.

In 2009 I was diagnosed with breast cancer. At different times through my surgery and treatment, it was as if time stood still and God gave me eyes to see what mattered most to me. What mattered during breast cancer had little to do with where I had been spending the majority of my time, energy and money. Once I was diagnosed, making an impact in the world became less about my ego and more about the grace of God. I suddenly had time for the people who meant the most to me. I wanted to hold my children and live a simple, quiet life. I wanted to sit with Jesus as only He could comfort me and calm my fears.

The bottom line is don’t live and die for the next job, the “right" church, America “like it used to be,” enough money to retire or the illusion that you have any power at all. Instead, tell your kids over and over that you love being their mom or dad. Don’t let a day go by without stopping your spouse in the hall, embracing them and whispering in their ear that you are STILL crazy about them. Make time for life long friends, sitting on the back porch or talking around the kitchen table. SLOW DOWN long enough to make homemade ice cream and don’t be afraid to use the good china on Tuesday night. Click on the envelope below to send to a friend.

Using the "S" Word in Prayer

My 5 & 6 year old grandsons came home from summer camp last week with a few new words in their vocabulary. We talked about “good words” and “inappropriate words.” (Of course, now that’s a set up for Mimi when I use my own “grown-up” words.:-)) After we discussed the two words in question, Ben came back with, “Ommmm, Mimi, Adam said the “S” word at camp today.” I looked at Adam and said, Adam what did you say? Before Adam could speak a word, Ben shouted back, “HE SAID SHUT UP!”

After gently reminding Adam that it was unkind to say that to someone I thought about the word and realized it is perhaps the best word to describe my prayer life when I am truly connecting to God. For the first half of my life I talked to God a lot and actually considered it a pretty good barometer of my spiritual growth.

At some point in the last twenty years I got tired of hearing myself talk and realized I was spending a lot of time telling God things he already knew. After adopting my disabled son, I prayed so hard and thought perhaps if I could say just the right word, my son might be healed. I prayed the blood of Christ over him and under Him. For months, I prayed the Lords prayer over his bed after he went to sleep. I turned the table on God and started using His own words against him… “Lord,, YOU SAID, if three or more are gathered…, Lord, YOU SAID, all things will work together for good…, Lord, YOU SAID, if we asked, we would receive… and so on and on. Ultimately I had to come to grips with the fact that the God I believed in would not be so cruel as to have a magic word or phrase that I had to find in order for him to heal a little boys life. My words were not convincing God of anything.

A few years later I was in so much pain I couldn’t even speak to God. It was then that I learned how to pray. I “shut up” and listened. I had talked to God for years but never slowed down enough to listen. I’m not talking about a 5 minute meditation during a scheduled “quiet time.” I’m talking about an hour or two or three of opening myself up in the presence of God believing he was present and wanted to speak to my heart. This meant I had to get away and be silent. It usually took a while to rid my mind of my “to do list” and sit long enough for the voices in my head to stop talking. Once I “shut up” lots of things changed. I saw prayer as being all about God, not so much about me. That eliminated any pride or praise of self because I was clearly the recipient, not the self righteous Pharisee.

In 1995 I went on my first silent retreat at a catholic retreat center in Denton. We were silent for four days and those four days turned my prayer life inside out. It took one full day to be able to settle into the silence but after I did, I experienced God in ways I cannot fully explain. I didn’t speak to anyone for four days and I said very little to God. As a result, I heard God and I basked in His presence. It was as though I met him for the very first time.

Mike Yaconelli, a former youth minister expressed it perfectly after just spending a few hours in silence. He said,

“For years God tried to shout over the noisiness of my life, and I couldn’t hear him. It only took a few hours of silence before I began to hear my soul speaking. It only took being alone for a short period of time for me to discover I wasn’t alone. In the stillness and solitude, His whispers shouted from my soul, Michael, I am here. I have been calling you, but you haven’t been listening. Can you hear me Michael? I love you. I have always loved you. And I have been waiting for you to hear me say that to you. But you have been so busy trying to prove to yourself you are loved that you have not heard me.”

That last sentence nailed me. “But you have been so busy trying to prove to yourself you are loved that you have not heard me.” During my best days, I stop the chaos and business of life and listen for Jesus who tells me, “Connie, I love you. I love you. Be still and rest in my arms of grace.”

1. How much time do you spend talking to God and how much time do you spend listening to God?

2. Are you willing to start meeting God in silence? It’s scary when you think about sitting somewhere in silence. Other than sleeping, when is the last time you were silent for over an hour?

3. Have you heard God and experienced His presence in solitude? Try it!

In January, we will be offering a three day silent retreat. Let me know if you would like to be put on the list. Click on the envelope below to send to a friend.

What I Wish I had Told My Youth Group 35 Years Later - post #2

Richard Rohr makes a great distinction between the “first half of life” and the “second half of life.” He calls the first half of life our “survival journey” and the second half of life our “sacred journey.”

He says, “The task of the first half of life is to create a proper container for one’s life and to answer the first essential questions: What makes me significant? How can I support myself? …And, who will go with me?,” He goes on to say, “the first half of life is about creating identity, finding some boundary markers (spiritual traditions and beliefs, cultural traditions, trustworthy authorities and structures), making some money, getting an education, marrying, and raising children.”

For me it meant making my mark in the world (adopting children & becoming a minister), supporting myself, developing significant relationships and deepening my spiritual beliefs about God. I also spent the first half of my life believing I was right; right about church, right about God and right about how people should live. If others didn’t agree with me, I prayed for their salvation and hoped to somehow influence them to believe as I do so they wouldn’t spend eternity in hell. And, I was nice about it. :)

In my early fifty’s I began to see a larger world outside of life in my “container.” I could finally see the arrogance in my “know it all” spirituality. I questioned some of the structures I built with my superior moral high ground. I wept and grieved over the woundedness of my own heart and the pain of others. I had to make a decision, would I rather be right or would I rather be loving? Did I really have all the answers about the God of all creation? It was then that I stopped studying about God and began to look at God. Though the Bible taught me about God (which I still believe), God spoke the loudest about who he was/is through the person of Jesus.

So what can Jesus teach me? He certainly didn’t live the way I lived the first half of my life. He wasn’t interested in storing up money, power or even significance. He saw the God given essence in people who were rejected and abused in religious circles. Jesus spoke over and over again about the poor and our responsibility in caring for them. He wasn’t overly concerned with Caesar and the decisions of the government. I’ll say it again and again, Jesus narrowed it down to two priorities; “Love God and love others.” If anything gets in the way of me following those two laws, I am not living the sacred journey.

What about you?

Are you still doing the survival dance storing up money, power and significance?

What might God be calling you to do in order to follow Jesus' example of love?

Do you spend more time and energy defending your presidential candidate than you do in finding ways to help the poor?

Are you spending time with Jesus or simply talking about Him?

These are questions that get my attention because my answers remind me that I am only a beginner on the sacred journey.
Click on the envelope below to send to a friend.

What I Wish I had said to my Youth Group 35 Years Later

Thirty five years ago I stepped out of college into my first job in full time ministry. I was young, full of energy and couldn’t believe I was getting paid for what I would have done for free. I was living out my dream of being a Youth Director and it was more than I ever imagined it would be.

Last weekend we all came back together, and as with most close friends, we picked up right where we left off. My “kids” survived adolescence to become executives, entrepreneurs, ministers and people doing fascinating work. They are faithful husbands and wives and committed parents. It was like going back to “Mayberry.”

As I’ve reflected on the weekend, which was fabulous, I found myself wishing I would have taken the time to say things I didn’t understand thirty-five years ago. During the first half of my life, answers seemed easy for me. And that’s what I modeled for my youth group. During this last half of my life, pain and loss have become my teachers and what matters most to me no longer fits in a black and white world. My theology continues to change as I break the gospel down to two commandments, love God and love others.

I’m not sure why I didn’t speak up about these changes. Perhaps I was caught up in the glory of our memories and didn’t want to bring any mention of pain into the discussion. I suspect, like me, many of my kids have not been spared from hurt and loss. If I could, I would go back and be a little more honest about navigating the hard places in life and asking the hard questions about God.

I’m going to dedicate the next 5-6 posts to “What I didn’t say when I was a Baptist Youth Minister.” Here is one of the things I didn’t understand thirty-five years ago.

Try not to be defined by what you’re against. We are a religion that continues to divide ourselves over issues that probably aren’t on God’s Top Ten list. In other words, “pull out the log in your own eye before you start picking at the splinter in mine.” I’ve been trying to pull that log out of my eye for years. God has used it to humble me more than I want to admit. Many more people will see the true Christ if we stop judging and simply love one another. Surely we can model the love of Jesus in more effective ways than going or not going to Chic-fil-a.

Click on the envelope below to send to a friend.

Memories Matter

In Barnabas we talk a lot about stopping the cycle; stop the cycle of abuse, stop the cycle of rage, stop the cycle of passiveness, stop the cycle of family secrets. Today I challenge you to keep the cycle going; the cycle of special memories and cherished experiences.

When I was growing up my Dad introduced me to adventure almost every weekend. When I was five years old, it started in a “boat house” on Lake Dallas. It was a small tin structure with one boat stall. He gave me a little stool and a cane pole and told me to watch the red and white bobber. His instructions went something like this;

"When the bobber goes under the water, pull up the pole.
It's that simple."

I spent hours mesmerized by the bouncing bobber and ecstatic over every little fish I caught.

So is it any surprise, that all I wanted for my birthday last weekend was to take my grandsons to the lake. Some dear friends gave us the use of their lake house (a vast improvement from the boat stall) and after a quick trip to Walmart, we were set with life jackets and fishing gear. Back at the house, we had our first fishing lesson on the deck.

“Hold the rod like this, push the black button and when the bobber hits the water, turn the handle on the reel one turn and sit and wait.”

About dusk we went out in the boat and didn’t even have a nibble. The boys were so cute and determined. Fearing they would become discouraged, the next day I texted the owner of the house and asked if it was possible to catch the little brim or small “bait” around the boat pier. He instructed me to buy smaller hooks and tear the worms into small pieces. Getting worm under my manicured nails and having worm blood squirt all over my hands is solid proof of my love for our boys.

Within 2 minutes those little fish were grabbing at the bait. I wish I could describe the excitement and celebration that occurred as they reeled in their “first catch.

Following in my Dad’s footsteps, we went swimming in the deep part of the lake and I let them steer the boat and ride the big tube behind the boat. After wearing them out for the second day in a row, we had a big dinner and watched Airbud on TV. They slept like babies and I fell asleep grateful for my Dad and grateful for the blessing of handing down the gifts once given to me.

What memories do you want to pass on to your kids/grand-kids/other family or friends?

Are you willing to take time away and be truly present? No constant emails, texting or other distractions?

What is it you hope to instill into these relationships that they can pass on through generations?

Click on the envelope below to send to a friend.

Flight 1296 To Dallas Is Now Boarding

“Flight 1296 to Dallas is now boarding at gate six.” Little did I know that twenty two years ago today those words would be the beginning of a brand new life. On July 10, 1990 Anne Broyles and I boarded a plane with two small children, Eva and Ricardo Cervantes. We met the children at an orphanage in Piedras Negras, Mexico and made arrangements to bring Ricardo to Dallas for a psychiatric evaluation.

The children sat speechless for most of the flight. They had never been outside of Mexico, never seen an airport and certainly never flown on an airplane. After arriving in Dallas they experienced more new sights as we drove past tall buildings on paved streets in an air conditioned car. In preparation for the kids arrival a good friend took her nieces and nephews to Toys R Us and bought a car load of toys to welcome them to America. The term, “culture shock” was evident as we pulled in the driveway and the kids got out of the car. They walked by the toys and into the house without saying a word.

Our first night was interesting and probably a little crazy for them as I repeated the only Spanish I knew, “Cómo te llamas? (What is your name) and Cuántos años tiene usted? (How old are you.) I wanted them to be comforted by hearing their language but they probably thought I was pretty strange asking them questions over and over again knowing I already knew the answers.

July 10, 2012 became the first day of a miraculous journey with two children that would eventually become the loves of my life. On this special day I want to express my deepest gratitude to the hundreds of you who helped raise, support and care for little Eva and Ricardo Cervantes.

The years have seen great joy and pain I could not have imagined. But the love exchanged between a lost little girl, a troubled little boy and a community of angels has been, to me, God’s amazing portrait of true love and grace beyond measure.

What could be happening in your life today that might change all your tomorrows?

How can you be a part of helping someone else who cannot do it alone?

If you are that “someone” who needs help, ask for it. You never know how you will see God show up in the lives of other loving people.

Happy Anniversary Eva and Ricardo!
Click on the envelope below to send to a friend.

This morning I was thinking about my grandsons. I want to take them to do something big and fun this summer. I started checking the “get away” deals on Groupon. Four days at a family resort outside of Austin or San Antonio sounded perfect! A beautiful hotel, a kids program, a kids pool that was like a real beach… WOW. Unfortunately these were a little pricy so I began looking at other options… Sea World, Six Flags, a Ranger game, a short trip to Texoma…still not within my budget constraints.

As I sat with my reality I began thinking about what was fun for them. They are barely 5 & 6 years old. Today, they like playing Legos, swimming in a cheap plastic pool we bought for the back yard, watching a movie snuggled in my arms, hot dogs on the grill, finding doodle bugs and playing in the sprinkler. Too soon these childhood memories will be gone and replaced with Six Flags, Sea World, Rangers games, riding Seedos and going to Colorado. In one or two years I’ll have to beg them to sit in my lap. Playing in the back yard will probably give way to playing with friends, computer games and organized sports. I am going to miss holding them in my arms. In just a few short years, spending the weekend with Mimi will not be such a celebrated event.

So, perhaps God’s sweet whisper to me this morning is to savor this irreplaceable season with my grandsons and remember what they really need. They need my presence which speaks to them over and over again saying, “Oh how I love you. You are the best! Look at how smart you are. I want to be with you. I am not going to leave you.”

The larger truth of this story is that all of us still need this message. What are we doing in our life to experience God’s presence? Is email, Facebook, work and running through life blinding us from the truth that all of us long to hear? “My Beloved, oh how I love you. You are the best! Look at how smart you are. I want to be with you. I am not going to leave you.”

Jesus called a little child to his side and set him on his feet in the middle of them all. “Believe me,” he said, “unless you change your whole outlook and become like little children you will never enter the kingdom of Heaven. Matthew 18
Click on the envelope below to send to a friend.

When You Struggle With Resentments

Dear Lord, we want You to find a yielded and quiet spirit within us. To make that happen, we need You to come in like a flood. Occupy us like water filling empty spaces. Occupy reserved portions of our lives where anger is festering and the secret places where grudges are being stored. Sweep through the houses of our hearts . . . don't miss one room or a single area---cleanse every dark closet, look under every rug. Let nothing go unnoticed as You take full control of our motives as well as our actions. Deep within our hearts, sweep us clean of blame and revenge, of self-pity and keeping score. Enable each one of us to be big enough to press on, regardless what unfair treatment we've had to endure. Take away the scars of ugly treatment and harsh words. Keep us from licking our wounds. Forgiveness comes hard . . . but it's essential. Help us forgive, even those who never acknowledge their wrongdoing toward us. Give us peace over turmoil, and erase the memories that keep us offended. We need fresh hope to go on! We ask this in the name of Him who had no sin and did no wrong but died, the just for the unjust: Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Chuck Swindoll 2012

Click on the envelope below to send to a friend.

The Imposter

In Barnabas, we talk about "The Imposter." Richard Rohr captures the real meaning of "imposter" as he relates this false self to our :shadow Self." Many of us have fallen into the trap of believing our shadow (false self, ego, imposter…) and we have paid dearly for buying into the illusion.

Search your heart and live the truth of who you are. Even though our true self is flawed and wounded, the truth cannot fall out from under us. We can finally stand on solid ground and discover that indeed, “the truth has set us free.”

SHADOWLAND

In the second half of life, we have been in regular unwelcome contact with the shadow self, which gradually detaches us from our not-so-bright personas that we so diligently constructed in the first half of life. Our “stage mask” (persona in Greek) is not bad, evil, or necessarily egocentric; it is just not “true.” It is manufactured and sustained unconsciously by our mind; but it can and will die, as all fictions must die.

Person and shadow are correlative terms. Your shadow is what you refuse to see about yourself, and what you do not want others to see. The more you have cultivated and protected a chosen persona, the more shadow work you will need to do. Be especially careful therefore of any idealized role or self-image, like that of minister, mother, doctor, nice person, professor, moral believer, or president of this or that. These are huge personas to live up to, and they trap many people in lifelong delusion. The more we are attached to and unaware of such a protected self-image, the more shadow self we will likely have. Conversely, the more we live out of our shadow self, the less capable we are of recognizing the persona we are trying to protect and project. It is like a double blindness keeping you from seeing—and being—your best and deepest self. As Jesus put it: “If the lamp within you is, in fact, darkness, what darkness there will be”

Richard Rohr

Click on the envelope below to send to a friend.