Finding Spiritual Whitespace: Awakening Your Soul to Rest

"By redefining quiet, God is showing me He can transform my loneliest and messiest moments into the most beautiful and intimate experiences with Him."

What started out as simply a journey to fulfill a life's dream and inspire others turned into a journey that would change her life.  When Bonnie Gray of FaithBarista started writing her new book, uncovered memories began wreaking havoc and she found herself in the throes of PTSD.  Through this, she began writing the deeper story.  Full of raw emotion and vulnerability, Spiritual Whitespace shares insight on finding rest with God, and ultimately our identity in Him.

Bonnie doesn't hold back as she shares glimpses of her past, each significant in forming conclusions that would shape her perceptions of herself and the world around her.  But this book is not simply a collection of memories, it is a journey with destination. It is about transformation with all its messy attributes exposed, laid out on the page... in ink.  It is a brave, daring move that has purpose.

Even as we listen to the message through Bonnie's own story, we hear echoes of our own. While our stories may be different, one doesn't need to have suffered the same trauma to have believed the some of the same lies formed from our own broken experiences.

She shares the heart of Christ as she finds answers in scripture to the questions that arise, challenging the conclusions previously drawn in pain.  She shares her encounters with Christ, but then engages her reader to do the same. After all, reading about resting in Him isn't the same as resting in Him.  She gives prompts for exploring this practically in life.

All this she does with seemingly effortless style.  Even as she pens the trauma, there is a steadiness and calm that is neither restraint nor control.  It is rest.

This book is one to be poured over slowly.  It isn't a mere inspirational read, although it is inspirational.  It is rather an invitation to participate in a journey of hope and healing with God.

To read more by Bonnie or to see what others are saying, check out 

Faith Barista - because some days you need a double shot of faith.

Space to Breathe

I've been more faithful at checking my mailbox than usual lately.  Bonnie at Faith Barista is launching her new book Finding Spiritual Whitespace and I'm patiently awaiting its arrival.

This longing for a space to rest is an innate part of who we are.  Our souls cries out for it, desperate, as somewhere along the line we believed a lie that told us it was selfish, proud, or even lazy to step into this space.  We fell for the lie that in doing so, we would be pulling away from those who needed us, when really we would be pulling into the One we need most.

For too long, we Christians have felt obliged to carry the very burdens we tell others that Christ has already carried on the cross.  We have laboured to deserve our place in Him when we have told others how His grace is freely given.

In doing so, we neglect the natural order with which He created us:

   

We do not rest because we have done;  

We can do because we have rested. 

I look forward to reading how God brought my friend into a place of rest, where she could find healing, hope and the fruition of dreams.  So this week, as I take some rest in order to let God shape  the words that have been stewing inside of me before I attempt serving them up in a post...

I give you this post written on this very topic of rest for Bonnie's Faith Jam some years back.

I hope you will take some time to explore what God said about rest "In the Beginning..." with me.

I'd love to hear back from you in the comments or on Twitter.  Let's make space together.

I'm linked up today with Bonnie and others at Faith Barista because sometimes you need a double shot of faith.

Hello, my name is...

I had already noticed the two men on their bicycles as they pulled up in front of the new shop I was entering.  It wasn't until we were about to pass through the automatic doors together that he turned and I saw who he was.  Instantly he flashed a smile of surprise.

I almost hadn't recognized him with solid weight filling out his frame even more than when I saw him eight months back, which was even then a year's clean distance from the skeletal home for drugs I had first encountered.  We were both beaming and shared a silent note of celebration for the dramatic change.

The man with him was his older son.  My friend pulled him forward and told him...

"This is Grace."

I chuckled and simply reminded him, "It's Holly."  He apologized through an embarrassed sigh and we quickly moved on.

He shared his how although he struggled still with other addictions, he and his girlfriend have remained clean.  Their new baby was already five months old, healthy and strong.

Throughout the conversation, he kept calling me "Grace."  Then catching himself, he'd shuffle around flustered words about being unable to call me anything else.

I could only laugh.  Trying to reassure him, I finally just said, "It's really okay.  Anyone who knows what grace is would be happy to be associated with it.  It's undeserved favor.  A love we cannot possibly deserve, but is given freely.  That's what Jesus did for you.  It's what the cross was all about."

I walked away thankful for the encounter, but also for the joy that comes with the practical reality of what the cross, and the resurrection, really means.

The hope we have through Christ's triumph is not solely a place in a glorious eternity,
              but it is also
                                     the joy of a new identity in the present. 

Because He conquered sin and death, He made a way for us to no longer be bound to them.  It is His finished work that has transformed us from sinner to saint.  His finished work alone.  I know we are still not perfect, that we still struggle.  However, the difference is that those failures are no longer the defining factors for who we are.

He has given us a new identity.  A new name.  His.

      For now we are all children of God through faith in Jesus Christ, and we who have been baptized into union with Christ are enveloped by him.  
      We are no longer Jews or Greeks or slaves or free men or even merely men or women, but we are all the same—
                               we are Christians; we are one in Christ Jesus. 
                                                                                     -- Galatians 3:26-28

I've been to several different conferences where, at some point, we would examine the cross and consider what He has done, how He has changed everything. 

Next we blindly chose a name tag out of a basket, prepared with names God has described to describe His people in His word.

Every time, no matter where or when, at a different conference or even in a different country, I've always drawn the same word, "Overcomer."  It's significant to me.  Truth be told, I don't always feel like I'm overcoming the situations I face.  And in that truth I can say I absolutely cannot overcome on my own.

       And I heard a loud voice saying in heaven, Now is come salvation, and strength, and the kingdom of our God, and the power of his Christ: for the accuser of our brethren is cast down, which accused them before our God day and night.
        And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death. 
                                                      -- Revelation 12:10-11

I am an overcomer because of what He has done.  I will continue to testify of Him and His greatness.  I choose His life over mine.  And in this surrender, I have new life.

When we surrender our own identity, leaving pride and ego at the cross, and moving in the victory of life anew, that's when others can see Him. They see the evidence of the resurrected Christ, the hope of glory.

My friend had seen Grace.  It's an identity to which I don't always feel I live up, and in my own flesh, I certainly can't be Grace.  It's evidence of Him in me.  It's identifying with Him.

Are you feeling bound to your old self?  Ask God who you really are through Christ.

• Have you been rejected?  God calls you "Accepted."  
• Have you been cast aside?  God calls you "His Beloved."  
• Have you felt worthless?  God calls you "Valuable."
• Have you felt damaged?  God calls you "Restored."
• Have you felt condemned?  God calls you "Righteous."
• Have you felt unredeemable?

God calls you redeemed!

As we celebrate the victory of His resurrection, let us choose to live in the identity He has conquered death for us to have.

Who does He say you are?

I'm keeping it real and serving it fresh today with Bonnie and others at Faith Barista.

Hunger Pains

"I'm hungry,"  I would say, coming in from playing outside with my sister. I would be remembering that last spoonful of mint chocolate chip stashed toward the back of the freezer, or be wondering if there was enough milk for a bowl of honey nut cheerios...

I hoped my dad would keep it simple and tell me to just find something from the kitchen.

But... without even blinking, my dad would say, "Fix yourself a peanut butter sandwich."

Ugh.

In our family I was the only one who seemed to lament that red five gallon can of Peter Pan Extra Crunchy sitting on the top of the fridge. Between every day school lunches and regular snacks of the spread with crackers or celery, never 'creamy' mind you, I couldn't have imagined a more unpleasant prospect.

 "But I don't want a peanut butter sandwich," I'd say back, hoping some mercy would provide another alternative. His response was always resolute.

"Then you're not really hungry." 

A pastor friend once described hunger as one of those qualities that, if expressed in our lives, would undoubtedly open a door to experience the intensity of God's spirit in a profoundly deeper way.

It's something we sing about.  It's something we pray for.
But sometimes I wonder if we knew what hunger truly meant,
                                would we really be...

are we really hungry?

     So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.  
     As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me.
     This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers ate, and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.” 
                                                                      -- John 6:53-58

 The disciples concluded that this was a hard word.  It's hard even now.  We want to tell people the meaning without saying the words.  We grumble about what He said, how He said it, how we think it would be better... looking for a way we can be satisfied.  

Many disciples that had journeyed with Him for so long left Him.  The answer was not what they were hoping.

Many of us neglect going deeper, because the answer is not the one we want.  It's not the sweet creamy treat we have in mind.  It's not even an unappealing, but somehow more palatable smooth version of the only option.  We cry out that we are hungry, but we choose to starve, even though a feast has been laid out before us.

Because the spread that really satisfies 

involves suffering, brokenness and death.

     Now as they were eating, Jesus took bread, and after blessing it broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, “Take, eat; this is my body.”  
     And he took a cup, and when he had given thanks he gave it to them, saying, “Drink of it, all of you, for this is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.  
                                                                                -- Matt 26:26-28

I imagine the twelve in the Upper Room that night.  Lounging together, they would remember with unleavened bread and full cups of wine.  They recalled the Exodus.  They shared in a feast remembering the joy of deliverance with all the solemness of leaving everything behind. 

When we partake of the bread and wine, we acknowledge the fullness of what it means to be broken. His body, broken... so we may live.  His blood spilled... so we may be forgiven. 
  
We are His body now.  Are we hungry enough for His Kingdom come on earth as it is in Heaven to die to ourselves?  To love without hesitation or reservation?  To give of generously ourselves regardless of the cost?  To leave everything behind?

Are we willing to be broken?

Sometimes I think we can be so frightened by the word "suffering" when we talk of "sharing in His sufferings" that we miss the biggest implication...

Sharing means we are with Him in it.

                                                  Let that sink in.

                                                                          We are "with Him."

We are "with Him" in our suffering, brokenness, and death to ourselves.  And because we are with Him, we also find comfort (2 Cor 1:5).  We find hope.  We find life.

There is no suffering bigger than Christ.  There is no enemy stronger than Christ.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
                                                                               -- Psalm 23:5

He has promised us a feast, and He has delivered.  But that feast is His body... broken.

This is the feast laid before us. It is full with bitter herbs and maror.  It brings about tears as well as laughter.  But it is the one feast that brings true deliverance from all enemies.

It is the victory of His love.  

                          Are we hungry enough to eat of it?

to not just nibble, but banquet upon it?

Am I?   Are you?

I'm keeping it fresh and keeping it real with Bonnie and others over at Faith Barista.

To Live Again

It only makes sense that my first post in bringing this blog back to life would be about dying.
It's been running through me for a few months now.

Somber, serious...
          Yes, it's been a deeply personal journey, but it's journeying with destination

and at the end of the road stands a cross.

The cross was a form of Roman execution outside the parameters of Jewish law because of its atrocity.  Even amongst the Romans, it was reserved for the worst of the worst.  It involved shame, humiliation and torture.  It was meant for people who were deemed as having no redeemable value.

Then Jesus told his disciples,  
               “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.  For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. 
                                                                      -- Matthew 16:24-25

Even before He walked the road Himself, Jesus knew what true life cost.  
                             And He invited us to live.
                                                                            By dying.

In the Garden of Gethsemene, twice Jesus shows us what this means.  Twice He surrenders His will to the will of the Father.  In the very garden whose name means "oil press", we witness Jesus surrender His own flesh to be battered and crushed, so the work of the Spirit may be poured out.

As a result of this surrender, He was shamed, humiliated and tortured.  He was deemed irredeemable by the masses lest He prove Himself otherwise.

He didn't try to prove Himself.  He didn't try to explain.  He didn't shout out threats of judgement or promises of His return.  Not in that moment.  In that moment, He gave up hold of any last thread of repute. 

He endured in the confidence of His obedience.  He forgave.

                       He told us to take up our cross

                                                                     and follow...

We can sanitize His death with nice metaphors and treat surrender like it's simply an emotion that makes us feel holier, or that it's something we pray will passively happen to us.  However, Jesus showed quite graphically that surrender is an action we must take.  It's a soldier surrendering arms and any attempt to defend one's self, giving oneself completely in the care of the ruling authority.

Surrender is painful because we are giving up our rights, our complaints, and our desires.  We are saying that His ideas are worth letting ours die.  It is in effect, our last will and testament.

Jesus carried His cross down the Via Dolorosa, the way of pain.  But His footsteps didn't stop there because the suffering alone wasn't the point.  

His journey had a destination.  

He carried His cross all the way to Golgatha.  Only with death could there be resurrection.

And now, I am called to follow.
Am I willing 
              to let God show me what part of myself I've been hanging onto for too long...
                                                                                                                                 and let it die?
Are you?

Knowing full well it means:

• giving up the need to be justified, proven or vindicated
• forgiving the one who hurt you the most
• letting go of control
• taking time to talk to the one on the bus beside you when all you want is to sleep
• holding your tongue from speaking slander and gossip
• initiating conversation even though you're the introvert
• just listening instead of having to have the answer
• looking at the people around you, believers and unbelievers alike, through eyes of grace
• asking God's opinion on matters
• giving up your reputation for obedience

If we are really willing to let these things die, we need to stop feeding them under the table and hoping they just go away.  We have to choose to trust that He can handle it, that He can carry us.  We have to be willing to carry them all the way to the cross
                                          and leave them there
                                                                                with Jesus.

It's only in that death that resurrection can come in us.  
And in that, we accept His invitation to become more and more of the person He created us to be.  

In that, we find ourselves truly living.

I'm keeping it fresh and keeping it real with Bonnie and others over at Faith Barista.