Spiritual Disciplines
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Blessed Be the Tie That Binds
He arrived one morning in a cat carrier, the last duck at my son’s farm. His destiny was the chopping block if I did not adopt him. Why could I not make room for one more fowl? I reasoned with myself. I have three white chickens and a little hen-house. One more body would fit comfortably, and they could be a family. Gently placing the carrier on the ground,my granddaughter Lillian suggested that since he had hung out with her chickens, he would feel right at home with my chickens. With trepidation, I opened the door to the carrier. Will he stay here on our little patch of Kansas, or will…
- Life Goes On, Life on the Farm, notes from the farm, Spiritual Disciplines, The Presence of God, Uncategorized
“Come”
” Come.” You are calling out to me, Jesus, “Come.” How often I have heard it in the recesses of my mind. “Come.” But it doesn’t ring out above the other voices, those loud and demanding voices. Yours is soft and gentle, and I have to stop and listen carefully to hear it: “Come.” Instead, I listen to the call that demands productivity: “Get it done, now.” Rather than lying in bed and listening to that still, small voice first thing in the morning, I sleep in until Judd awakes, and then dash to get dressed, make the bed, and get the coffee pot going. And you say “Come.”…
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I AM . . .
I . . . AM . . . ME!!! Staring out the window, I let the idea slowly sink into my four-year-old brain. This idea was an incredible revelation. I am ME!!! I have been talking to ME my whole life. That voice in my head is ME. The feeling that flowed through my body felt familiar to this little farm girl: precisely like touching the wire of an electric fence. “Well, hello ME.” I am sure everyone comes to that realization at some point in their early lives. The recognition that when we think good thoughts, when we think bad thoughts, all that stuff that comes from inside our…
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Solitude (Part Three)
And so in those first steps on the prayer trail I allow the vestiges of any mask to be gently erased by His love. A little uneven with a stubble of grass here and there, this trail has been tractor mowed specifically for anyone who would like to be alone with God. It has been trodden not only by my feet, but by my children, my grandchildren, by neighbors, by friends, by students, by local pastors. It has become hallowed ground. We have all met with God, discussed with God, been encouraged by His presence, and dropped to our knees on this hallowed ground. As I walk, I think of…
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Solitude (continued)
This “walking-with-God path” I have loved to share with others. “Go, listen to God up on the trail,” I have said to dear friends and students, fully expecting them to have the same conversations I have had. But not everyone has been able to “hear” God in this way on this path. Hard as it has been for me to understand this “deafness,” up there on the trail, I have come to accept it. I remember one of my dearest students had been searching for answers, for a sense of God’s presence and I had confidently sent her out to walk and listen. She was gone for an…
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Celebrating Solitude
“The aim of God in history is the creation of an all-inclusive community of loving persons, with himself included in that community as its prime sustainer and most glorious inhabitant.”—Dallas Willard I believe that building community with Him as our prime sustainer and most glorious inhabitant has at its core our personal communion with Him . . . sometimes in solitude. The following is from an earlier entry: I pull my jacket closer to my body and quietly close the back screen door, not wanting to arouse Vince and Tiger. I consider them my loyal “guard cats,” guarding the farmhouse from any additional forlorn feral cats that would like…
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Authenticity: From “Me” to “Who?”
Children don’t know anything but transparency and authenticity. Their freedom to be themselves is quite compelling. It is only later that they begin to adapt to the social pressures in this fallen world. I remember in my wise four-year-old mind becoming aware that the thoughts coming in the form of ideas or conversation with others were actually coming from me. I remember the awe I would feel when I would whisper to myself, “I am Me.” Allowing the thought to reach into my very soul, I was overwhelmed with a sense of my own identity, and I marveled at this reality. But when a child is slowly growing through…