March 2012 - Lisa Colón DeLay

When Prayer Time is a Bust (my recent dud)

All the ingredients were there for a splendid time of reflection, worship, and prayer. A beautiful unseasonably warm day, new blossoms, and a perfect metaphor for life: A Prayer Labyrinth.

It didn’t help.

I felt restless and distracted. Yes, I could appreciate the goodness surrounding me. I could also grasp the spiritual significance of the nearby metaphors and analogies. Yet, I didn’t have a time of felt connection with God. The word “dud” comes to mind. I didn’t get the experience I thought I would; and it all seemed ordinary and uninspired.

Here are some images I took during my time there. You have to admit, it was a delightful scene.

What this means:

Just a few thoughts…maybe you have some ideas too.

If God is a person (…is a Being, not just an impersonal Force, but rather has a personality, and is capable of relationship), then I really can’t expect God to follow a predictable formula like he is a math equation.

My other relationships function in a similar way. They aren’t clear cut and palpable. They are more opaque and protean. I wonder if God switches things up precisely so we don’t depersonalize him, (among other reasons, I’m sure).

In biblical narrative this rings true. The Hebrews are rescued by God in a different manner almost each time. Sometimes it was pitchers smashing that started the process, other times horns and shouting. Sometimes it was just typical military tactics.

I was okay with the fact that the spiritually nourishing experience I had at the Jesuit Retreat Center was nothing like my (seeming) dud of a prayer experience this time. In the past it might have felt like abandonment. I might have seconded guessed myself, or my God. I see the nuances now, perhaps. I can still believe God is there, and God is good, even when I don’t sense God’s presence. It would be the same way with a dear friend, or my spouse. If I had a blah sort of time with a friend, I wouldn’t jump to the conclusion that the friendship didn’t exist. If I didn’t sense my husband was in the house, I wouldn’t assume we weren’t married.

When was a time when God didn’t show up when you thought God would?

Here’s a previous post explaining a prayer labyrinth. Have you ever used one?

Focus on the Raisin, Grasshopper [Guest Post from Jennifer Luitwieler]

Thanks for stopping by. All the articles in this series can be found by clicking the #4Bloggers tab above. Don’t miss new contribution by a host of talented people all of March and April…get the RSS feed or feedburner email delivery. (The icons are over yonder to the right.)

I’m so happy that Jennifer Luitwieler (a.k.a. JLu <JAY-loo>) is a part of this series. Enjoy her contribution, ’cause it has shiny, raisiny goodness!

Focus on the Raisin, Grasshopper

I can’t be the only blogger who busies her little, under-used brain with the large readership of other, far cooler, infinitely more talented blog-keepers out there. On any given day, I’m like a newborn baby, at the mercy of unsophisticated muscles, clicking link after distracting link. Every flash in my periphery forces a jerky turn of my head: Oooh! Shiny!

Just last week, I dragged another writer down my little rabbit hole, concerning myself with a third writer’s blog, a huge machine of success. I dashed off emails of indignation. I fretted about my voice and my readership. I was all in a huff about so-and-so; the volume of comments, the internet buzz about the writing, the name-dropping. My value, in my eyes, dropped lower and lower and lower.

Then, I remembered the raisin.

As young, dumb parents, we lived according the prophets as written in What To Expect Your Baby’s First Year. They promised that our delightful child prodigy would be able to focus on a raisin. Our child, genius that she was—and is— did not disappoint. She focused the heck out of that raisin. I mean that kid held the shriveled fruit in her bright, blue-eyed gaze with laser focus. She saw that raisin and she knew that raisin.

A newborn baby, sweet little mewling blob, cannot control her eyes or arms. She is at the mercy of her reflexes, guided by little more than hunger and comfort. But as she grows, she develops. Synapses fire, allowing her to do new things, like focus on a raisin. Make no mistake, it is hard to focus on a raisin, yo.

When I dragged my friend into my blogger drama, I lacked laser-raisin-ninja focus. Let’s face it: Raisins are kinda “meh” in the midst of so many LOLcats. Instead of concentrating on developing the readership we DO have, the voice we CAN use, we fiddle around with a sort of blogger’s performance continuum.

It starts with hits and includes such esoteric measurables as readership, click-throughs, and shares. We count subscribers with the fervor of a money lender. We click REFRESH like an addict until our fingers bleed, craving the warm buzz of recognition. The knowledge that we are being read (or not) can provide either an overblown sense of self importance or a slightly pleasurable self-loathing. We bow to the arbitrary curve of the almighty Googlestats bell.

Truth is, my faith life is not much different. I am easily distracted by things that don’t matter, drawn into endless (pointless) debates, fretting over my importance in the larger Kingdom. I begin my prayer time anticipating a relational communique; before too long, I’m thinking, “I forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer.” Instead of proudly using the gifts He’s given me, I worry about how others are using theirs.

Fortunately, my Master has a ton of patience and a generous sense of humor. Besides, he put a developing brain in my thick skull, and a softening heart in my core. Paying attention to the raisin, the seemingly boring things like discipline, grace, and faith pays dividends in my faith, in my writing, and in my relationships. It’s not sexy. It’s not always fun, but the raisin is power, baby. The raisin is power. •

Jennifer Luitwieler wrangles The Dog, a cat and 3 perfect angels who adore her and find her to be the best homeschool teacher ever in the universe. When she is not filling their spongelike brains with limitless knowledge, she wrangles ideas into sentences with an imaginary golden lasso. (Of course it’s imaginary. No one has a real golden lasso.) She writes on crafts and sports in monthly columns. Her first book, “Run With Me: An Accidental Runner and the Power of the Poo,” was released in 2011. You can find her at http://jenniferluitwieler.com, on twitter @jenluit and Facebook.com/jenluitwieler

5 Ways Blogging is Like a Mistress (for a writer)

WARNING: The following contains dark humor.

I know something about mistresses. My dad had one.

As a writer, a blog can be just like a mistress for me. Here’s why:

1. Stroking. The instant gratification that comes from being heard with such ease (blogging) is the simple sticky honey trap for a person of words, like me.

2. Quick fix over Commitment? Sure, baby. Pounding out 80,000 words grows wearisome. Why not just pop out 800, for a quick fix? Sometimes, I ditch the old ball & chain writing project for a bit of Miss Right Now (blogging). Sometimes my dreams suffer for it.

3. On-the-fly modification. Meeting up with a mistress (my blog) can be exciting because not only can I be impetuous, but I can modify a lot to my liking whenever I please. I switch things up for added interest, or improvement. But, ink on paper…I’m married to it.

4. Familiarity breeds contempt. There’s nothing like living with your words to make them frustrating and lack-luster. Months on end of book project writing can just kill the romance, and lead to self-loathing at my own impotence. However, a short, hot rendezvous (a few hours) is the most I spend on any post. Hey, blog, don’t let me catch you leaving your toothbrush here, or it’s sayonara.

5. Adventure! Weekend trysts to exotic spots? Yes, please! I don’t have to be an expert when blogging. I can cover exciting, far-flung topics with just a few hours of pesky research.

My dad married his mistress, eventually. He still fought with wife #1 (my mom) all the time–but with the new wife, it was a new life of eggshell walking and apologizing. He probably didn’t anticipate this at the mistress stage.

I don’t think I want the same thing in terms of my writing. I have to keep blogging in check. The words, “Get back, you vile temptress!” comes to mind, until I realize that this would make it sound like it wasn’t my fault. But, it is.

Has your blog ever been like a “mistress” for you? In what ways?

And please share your insights.
What helps you stay on track with longer writing projects?

More good stuff is in the works, so don’t miss a thing. Sign up for the RSS feed, or updates to your email (with Feedburner). Button icons on the upper right are for that. Thanks for being here today, and sharing the love with retweet goodness, if you can.

My son’s Sudden Onset Atheism Takes an Unexpected Turn

This is an update sort of post.

It’s been many months since I covered this topic, and for a long time things stayed very much the same with my now 12 year old autistic son being a very firm atheist for over a year.

I was committed to see through Nathan’s spiritual journey without pressuring him to believe what I wanted him to. Because I personally have spent so much of my life dedicated to learning about and loving God, this took iron patience and a new kind of faith. Respecting Nathan’s feelings about God and giving him time to wrestle with the concepts lead to a surprising outcome.

For some needed background, I recommend these two previous posts that set the stage for where we are as I have covered this fascinating journey:

God: “The Unbelievable Story” (1st Interview with Nathan)

Juvenile Atheism, and Bunny Studies. (a profound update)

(A few more can be found by clicking the Sudden Onset Juvenile Atheism category, or doing a search with those words.)

Now onto the update.

Progress was encouraged by an unlikely source. Many people believe that God (Yahweh) has been erased from public school. This is true in many ways. My son’s social studies textbooks, for instance, never use a capital “G” when using the word God, or any deity. For instance, “People called the Pilgrims came to the New World to worship their god.” [Yes. We live it pluralistic times.]

The truth is, though we may erect boundaries, God has no boundaries. God works in ways we don’t expect, whenever it pleases him to. Sometimes we have to resist the urge to “hold God’s hand” as he works things out. Who then, I wonder, has a problem with faith? The questioning atheist or the anxious Christian?

It was my hope and prayer that God would reveal himself to Nathan and draw Nathan to himself. Then I just had to wait, encourage the searching, and remain peaceful about the rest.

It all started with Social Studies. As Nathan studied world civilizations, he noticed that these were the same people groups spoken of in the Bible. The Egyptians, the Hebrews, the Babylonians, the Assyrians–each one of these groups is recorded in the narratives of the Bible. He learned how all the groups were poly-theistic, and the Hebrews were mono-theistic. In his autistic support class he watched the Dreamworks animated movie The Prince of Egypt (which is rather loose with it’s historicity, I realize). Suddenly the story clicked. What he heard only at church, he also heard at school. This vetted the story for him as actual, rather than “a made up fairy tale and untrue story” as he had previously thought.

Since this realization, Nathan has been more receptive to going to church, listening and sometimes answering questions in Sunday School (we have kept him with us in an adult level class), and singing. He doesn’t lash out in anger when we speak of things of God at home. He’s willing to be content as we pray at meals. His attitude has shifted. People at our church have reached out to Nathan and showed him great kindness and grace. Those relationships have been a boon.

Nathan loves the music at church, and hearing his sweet, pitchy little voice is a precious thing. It’s reminder that his story, and my story are not over. God with us is a work in progress.

Recently, when I thought he was ready to talk about it, I said, “Nathan, I noticed you are singing in church. How do you feel about God now?”

Softly, he said, “Well, I think it’s true. I believe in God now.”

“Did you learn about the Hebrews in school, like you did at church?” I asked.

“Yes. The Egyptians were real, and they had slaves,” he told me.

The story isn’t over. I don’t feel like Nathan has arrived somehow, but now his journey has new hope and new possibilities. He still needs to be nurtured spiritually. Don’t we all? He needs us to model God ways to him, the Fruit of the Spirit. He has never wanted to pray, and my hope is that he finds the comfort that comes with talking to God.

The invisible, but real, is a challenging concept for many of us, and Nathan’s very concrete ways of understanding the world–because of his autism–make it all the more important to be Jesus to him so that the reality of God is experience and learned in regular life. He’s not so different after all.

Who has best modeled God for you?

I am a Hypocrite: My Spiritual Guidance for Bloggers [Thom Turner]

Today’s contribution is from Thom Turner.

I’m a big fan of his blog Everyday Liturgy. If you ever don’t know what to pray, rely on others, and pray with the help of their words. His blog is a great way to find the words to say. There’s a lot more to Thom, too, so drop by and check him out.

I am a Hypocrite: My Spiritual Guidance for Bloggers
-Thom Turner

Like most arguments between married couples, I forget what this one was about.

I know I was probably being impatient, angry and saying not so nice words.

I was most likely being what British people refer to as a prig.

My wife won the day though. She sounded off a rejoinder that stung: “You know sometimes I wish you were like the person who writes on your blog.”

Ouch.

I am a blogger who has spent over five years writing about spirituality, theology and worship.

I am also a hypocrite.

Read the rest of Thom’s article here: