Sanctuary

"in the cathedrals of New York and Rome, there is a feeling you should just go home, and spend a lifetime, figuring out just where that is..."

-Jump Little Children

I was sitting in church this morning during the late service and since I had already heard the sermon at the first service, I'll admit that my mind started to wander when hearing it for the second time.

I admired the way the light reflected in through the stained glass windows and sparkled beautifully on our pristine white walls. I admired the deep color of the pews and the way our church homey and inviting. I'll admit, I was having a "our sanctuary is just so beautiful" moment in my head.

And I started to think about what a sanctuary was really. Sanctuary. That word. Hmm..... Sanctuaries are supposed to be places of security. A haven. A place of absolute safety and absent of things to fear. Whenever I think of sanctuaries I am taken back to that scene in the "Hunchback of Notre Dame" when the gypsy Esmeralda was running from the soldiers (because being a gypsy was against the law back then) and she runs up to the Cathedral Notre Dame and bangs on the door and cries for "Sanctuary!"

Crying for sanctuary back then meant that the church would protect you. That the soldiers or anyone else couldn't pursue you into the church. That it served as a haven. A place where you didn't have to fear being hunted or attacked.

And I'm assuming this ties in with our idea of holding worship in sanctuaries today. That they be places of security. Of safety. A place where we can be authentic and have no fear of attack. But maybe church isn't that safe and secure place for you? Maybe a physical church "sanctuary" doesn't offer you much comfort or ease your anxiety at all.

Often (of course this is exacerbated because its my place of employment) I leave church with knots in my stomach. Or I'm anxious about people I might have made mad with leadership decisions I"ve had to make that day. I sit in my so called sanctuary and often I worry, fret, and just wait for the next attack. It often doesn't seem like much of a sanctuary.

However, there is this lovely bike trail I ride everyday. It goes along the river and is shaded by trees and has birds. Its simply wonderful. I always feel safe, secure, and peaceful as I ride down this trail. It feels like a sanctuary to me. Much more than my church's building does.

So I wonder, maybe sanctuary doesn't necessarily have to be a place of religious worship. Maybe sanctuaries come in all different shapes and sizes. Maybe they can be bike trails. Or coffee shops. Or emails. Or a friend's house. Or a mother's embrace. Maybe sanctuary can be found in all sorts of people, places, and things.

And maybe we aren't finding it, because we are looking for our preconceived notions of what it should be. Instead of the forms it actually appears in.

Where is your sanctuary? Would you even recognize it if you found it?

Unspoken

Have you ever noticed that in the Bible you only get the stories from one person's perspective? That there is only one narrator and one person whose thoughts, feelings, emotions, and statements that you get a clear picture of?

What about all the other people in the story? Its struck me recently that maybe as important as what is said in stories in the Bible (or actually just in life maybe) is what goes unsaid. Whose voice you don't hear from. Whose perspective you aren't able to see. Because they have a story too.

I was reading the story of David and Bathsheba recently and I noticed that there is very little about Bathsheba in the story. Besides the fact she was beautiful and loved by David, we find out very little about her. Did she love David? Did she love Uriah? Did her heart break at Uriah's death? Was she relieved at Uriah's death? Did she go willingly to David? Did part of her know that it was wrong? Was she torn in two over this decision?

I know the Bible is a tool God uses to teach us about Himself. That the words within it hold power and sway over our lives. But sometimes I wonder, if the words that aren't in there possible just as powerful.

I'm going to start seeking out what goes unspoken. Intentionally searching for the voices unheard, the perspecitives unshared.

Perhaps there's just as much truth and power in what goes unspoken as there is in what is said loud and clear.

"For my people have committed two evils; they have forsaken me the fountains of fresh flowing living waters, and then dug cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water." -Jeremiah 2.13

Let it go, Jeremiah. Who cares where they get their drink of water? I mean, what's the big deal? So the people have changed water sources? Only since Jeremiah is a prophet, we should assume he is speaking metaphorically here. And the metaphor is: the Israelites have forgotten their eternal and unending God and turned toward mortal and temporal worship.

And once again, Jeremiah speaks truth not only into that ancient situation, but into my life today. For you see, I have a problem with faith. I just don't have enough of it.

I say I trust God, but I put more trust in my health insurance. I say I love God, and yet my friends or my figure get more of my time and devotion than He does. I say I believe He has a plan that is unfolding in my life, yet I worry and run back and forth down paths trying to figure out which one is right. I say I know He will provide fresh flowing water for my life, but I consistenly carry around a water bottle.

Why am I seeking refreshment from a broken, cracked, limited cistern when I have access to uneding, ever flowing, living water?

Music through the Years

I sang for the first time in a really long time at a place besides church the other day. I was put last minute into a fundraiser and had about 3 days to prepare something, so obviously I grabbed a song from Les Miserable that I sang for my senior high school choir recital.

I hadn't really thought of or sung this song in about 8 years and when I started singing it, I kinda felt this flood of emotions. (Now I know people consistently tease me about being really emotional, but this was a genuine wave of emotion.) I was amazed at how the words of this song had changed for me. Traditionally, it's the song in the play about unrequited love and heartache. As a high schooler, I thought it held hope and optimism in it too and those were the emotions I would channel when singing it.

However 8 years later, with a bit more life experience and having actually had a broken heart, I realized that this song was just about heartbreak. And the words hit a very true, very real place in my heart. And it was if my heart broke all over again as the words reminded me of painful situations and as I sang I relieved moments in my life over again.

Now that sounds a bit dramatic, but my point to this whole thing is that we are constantly changing. And the music that inspires and encourages us one moment, might no longer encourage and inspire the next. That as we consistently change with every experience, those experiences consistently change how we view the world. That every moment life changes a little for us. Things take on new meaning, things lose old meanings. Things that once matter a lot, matter little after time. You gain new perspective and hope and despair as you grow and change and evolve.

The songs that once brought you hope can be the exact songs that break your heart all over again.

And this is good and wonderful and human.

I hope that music keeps continuing to change for me. Cause that means I am continuing to grow and experience and evolve and change. It means I'm wonderfully human and living my life.

I wonder what the song will mean for me in 8 more years?

Muscle Memory

I use to take dance. Like forever ago. I used to tap, do jazz squares, and pirouette with the best of them. Then I stopped. A couple days ago I was playing with some kids and we started goofing off and doing old ballet stuff. At first it took a lot of effort to do moves that once had not required much thought or work at all. But then it was amazing to me how fast my body remembered how to correctly do some of the moves. Motions that I hadn't done in almost ten years seemed to come easier and easier the more I tried. And then I remembered muscle memory. That sometimes, when you do something over and over and over again for long enough, that even when you stop the movements are stored in your muscles and can be reawakened quite easily. Its like they lie dormant within the ligaments until one day you try to move that way again and the memory of them wakes up and comes back to life to help you turn and twist and plie. Sometimes it takes a few tries, but your muscles remember, not matter how vague.

And its not just with leg or arms muscles. Our heart muscles do this. Sometimes things happen. Bad things, hurtful things and our reactions to these things are to stop loving. To stop feeling. To stop trusting. To give up hope. To quit believing. And after awhile we don't really remember what it feels like to trust, to love, to hope. We've simply stopped using those muscles within us. They become weak. Feelings and emotions and things like trust become distant memories of something we used to know how to do effortlessly.

But the memory of those good things- the memory of love, joy, peace, trust, faith, hope- these remain imprinted on our hearts. They remain in our muscle memory. They are ours to reclaim if we only realize that they still are alive within us.

Sure, its not going to be easy to remember how to do these things again. The first few tries are going to take effort and might hurt a little, but after a while, these will become effortless again. Love will naturally start to flow from your heart without you having to make yourself feel loving towards someone. Trust will happen, whether you intentionally think on it or not. You will find yourself feeling hope without having to push yourself to find it. It will be hard at first, but then the muscle memory will kick in and in time it will be easier.

There are memories and things that live within each of us that have gone dormant. We need to re-awaken these. We need to use these muscles, these memories. We need to live fully within ourselves.

What do you need to remember?

Traditons

There is a certain sort of power that comes with doing something the same way over and over again. Whether it be the way you get ready in the morning, the way your family celebrates Christmas every year, or something as generic as saying the traditional "pledge of allegiance", traditions hold a certain sway over our lives. There's magic in going through motions and saying words that have been said by the people before us and will be said by the people after us. Traditions center us. Traditions remind us of who we are and where we've come from. Sometimes, traditions even point to where we are going.

I know that as a mid twenties girl, I'm still becoming who I will be. And sometimes in that process I get a little lost or misplaced. But when I go home and engage in some of the family traditions that we've had over the years, it reminds me deep down who I am at my core. When I come in the house and in following tradition the first thing I do is find someone to hug and love on, it reminds me that who I am is someone who loves first and foremost. And somehow all that confusion about who I am and who I want to be slips away.

When life gets a little too overwhelming or I'm really confused or down or whatever, there is something about the traditional Methodist service at our church that has a calming effect on me. Specifically, singing the doxology brings such a quiet peace to my mind and heart. Maybe I'm just sentimental, but when I imagine the people who throughout history who have sung those exacts world- somehow it reminds me that they survived and so will I. That in the moment life seem too much, too big, too hard, but in the grand scheme of things it reminds me of who I come from. That people have gone before me and in what tradition I follow. That we are survivors and that all things pass.

I worry about life. I worry about the future. I wonder where I will be in six months, six years. I wonder if things will turn out the way I imagine or if there is a fork in the road just ahead of me. I worry that I've missed out on some great opportunities or if the choices I'm considering are the wrong paths for me to take. But then when I wake up in the morning, I get out of bed and stretch towards the ceiling. Flip on the music. Make the coffee. Do the same things I've always done. And I'm reminded that no matter where I am in or what happens, some traditions will hold true. That it doesn't so much matter where I am going, but that I am going and going as me.

Traditions are good things. They are powerful things. They are wonderful things.

But traditions can also be dangerous. We should always watch to make sure that we are the keepers of the tradition, instead of the traditions acting as keepers of us.

I am being refined. Redefined. Set apart.
I am learning to love. To embrace. To believe.
I am growing up. Growing in faith. Growing in love.
I am becoming whole. Fulfilled. Completed.
I am being blessed. Healed. Forgiven.
I am being shown grace. Mercy. Majesty.
I am longing for Eden. God's presence. Heaven.
I am receiveing Strength. Comfort. Discernment.
I am being shown that life is momentary. Mortal. Fleeting.
I am being taugh to Worship. To yearn. To praise.
I am accepting my Calling. My mission. My passion.
I am learning to Jump. To trust. To risk.
I am discovering the I Am. Who I am. Who I am in Him.
I am falling in Love. With Love. With the One who is Love