Messages from God
“But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” (Luke 2:19 NIV)
This verse is on my mind right now, as we are in the Christmas season and hearing readings from Luke’s famous account of Jesus’ birth. A few weeks ago, I had the wonderful privilege to take part in another Strength for the Journey spiritual retreat. I have been able to go three times in the five years since my first cancer diagnosis and each time has been equally special.
This time, though, there has been a particular message I have “treasured up” and continue to “ponder…in [my] heart.” One of the first spiritual exercises we did was something called lectio divina, which is Latin for “divine reading.” It's an ancient practice where someone reads a small portion of scripture out loud and you listen for a word or a phrase that seems to stand out from the rest in your thoughts. The verse for the retreat was Zeph. 3:17 – “The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.”
I have this verse memorized, so I wasn’t sure my mind would open to fresh thoughts on it. That is sometimes the downside of scripture memorization for me – I know the words but lose sight of their message. But that didn’t happen this time. I clearly heard the words “God is with you” jump out at me, which confirmed to me that the message must be from God for this particular time because in the past my focus has always been on the “taking delight” part of the verse.
In lectio divinia, the process is to listen to the verse several times, meditating on it and contemplating it as it’s slowly read each time. The second time through the word “rejoice” jumped out at me. Was it just the way the person was reading the verse? Shouldn’t I be hearing the same thing each time? Why were my thoughts jumping around? Was the message “God is with you” or “rejoice”? “God is with you” or “rejoice”? The verse was read a third time and this time I clearly heard these two phrases combined. It wasn’t either/or. It was both: “God is with you…rejoice!” “God is with you…rejoice!”
God is with me. In the middle of my cancer journey. Right in the mess of it. By my side. Holding me. And “in His presence is fullness of joy” (Ps. 16:11). Wherever I go, God is with me. And where He is, there is fullness of joy. Rejoice. So I took these things and pondered them in my heart.
Another of our spiritual exercises was to write our own psalm. The Psalms are full of the words of people pouring out their hearts to God, no holds barred. There are laments, ecstatic effusions of joy, accusations of abandonment, gushing praise, and more.
God can take all the feelings we throw at Him. They don’t surprise Him, they don’t hurt His feelings, they don’t cause Him to love us any less. So we were encouraged to use the Psalms as a model for pouring out hearts out to God. Feeling rather unimaginative, I decided to start by flipping through the psalms and writing down the lines that moved me.
I ended up with this:
As a child, I had memorized Isaiah’s words about passing through the waters and not being overwhelmed by them, but I didn’t remember that same idea being in the Psalms. Yet here it was – part of my own psalm - the same message I had heard in the lectio divinia: “I will be with you.” Whatever comes my way, He is already there – fire, flood, height, depth – there is nowhere we can go where He is not already there (Rom. 8:38-39).
And then we did the group spiritual direction. In this exercise, we began by silently listening to God for five minutes, waiting for His stirrings around a specific topic, seeking direction towards what God wanted each of us to ask the rest of the group to listen for on our behalf. When the five minutes were up, you each shared with the group what God had led you to ask for prayer regarding. In my case, I believed God was asking me to ask for prayer regarding my purpose, as well as His purpose for me in the midst of weakness and cancer.
And then my fellow group members spent three minutes listening to God for His message to me. The expectation is not that everyone will get something to share. But if you do have something come to mind, you share it, even if it seems weird or irrelevant or just silly. You are just the messenger. Share whatever you receive and let God do the rest.
I got a number of beautiful messages regarding my purpose, but they will keep for another blog post. The one that has stuck with me is the one the person was embarrassed to share. She apologized for it and said she was sure she had done the exercise wrong. But our group leader reminded her that we were supposed to share whatever we received. So she told me – the entire three minutes all she could think about was a rubber duck.
We all had a good laugh when she shared that. But the message hit me almost immediately: I’m the rubber duck! Not in the bathtub anymore, but out in the ocean, bobbing around in rough seas, seas rough enough to sink a ship. But I’m a rubber duck! No matter how hard they splash, the waves can’t sink me. I resurface every time. And because I’m rubber, the water doesn’t even affect me. It just rolls right off. I’m in the water and the mighty waves don’t overwhelm; I pass through the waters and He is with me. The same message I got through the lectio divina and the same message I got through the psalm-writing exercise.
It was a powerful message to me. And I’ve taken it and treasured it up and have been pondering it in my heart.
This verse is on my mind right now, as we are in the Christmas season and hearing readings from Luke’s famous account of Jesus’ birth. A few weeks ago, I had the wonderful privilege to take part in another Strength for the Journey spiritual retreat. I have been able to go three times in the five years since my first cancer diagnosis and each time has been equally special.
This time, though, there has been a particular message I have “treasured up” and continue to “ponder…in [my] heart.” One of the first spiritual exercises we did was something called lectio divina, which is Latin for “divine reading.” It's an ancient practice where someone reads a small portion of scripture out loud and you listen for a word or a phrase that seems to stand out from the rest in your thoughts. The verse for the retreat was Zeph. 3:17 – “The Lord your God is with you, the Mighty Warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you; in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.”
I have this verse memorized, so I wasn’t sure my mind would open to fresh thoughts on it. That is sometimes the downside of scripture memorization for me – I know the words but lose sight of their message. But that didn’t happen this time. I clearly heard the words “God is with you” jump out at me, which confirmed to me that the message must be from God for this particular time because in the past my focus has always been on the “taking delight” part of the verse.
In lectio divinia, the process is to listen to the verse several times, meditating on it and contemplating it as it’s slowly read each time. The second time through the word “rejoice” jumped out at me. Was it just the way the person was reading the verse? Shouldn’t I be hearing the same thing each time? Why were my thoughts jumping around? Was the message “God is with you” or “rejoice”? “God is with you” or “rejoice”? The verse was read a third time and this time I clearly heard these two phrases combined. It wasn’t either/or. It was both: “God is with you…rejoice!” “God is with you…rejoice!”
God is with me. In the middle of my cancer journey. Right in the mess of it. By my side. Holding me. And “in His presence is fullness of joy” (Ps. 16:11). Wherever I go, God is with me. And where He is, there is fullness of joy. Rejoice. So I took these things and pondered them in my heart.
Another of our spiritual exercises was to write our own psalm. The Psalms are full of the words of people pouring out their hearts to God, no holds barred. There are laments, ecstatic effusions of joy, accusations of abandonment, gushing praise, and more.
God can take all the feelings we throw at Him. They don’t surprise Him, they don’t hurt His feelings, they don’t cause Him to love us any less. So we were encouraged to use the Psalms as a model for pouring out hearts out to God. Feeling rather unimaginative, I decided to start by flipping through the psalms and writing down the lines that moved me.
I ended up with this:
How long, O Lord, how long?“Your path is leading me through the sea; Your way through the mighty waters. Yet they don’t overwhelm me; they do not sweep me away – for You are with me, even though Your footprints are not seen. You lead me like a little lamb. You carry me when I can go no further.”
Yet I will see You in the land of the living.
You are the God who performs miracles. I will remember Your deeds, even the ones long ago.
Your path is leading me through the sea; Your way through the mighty waters. Yet they don’t overwhelm me; they do not sweep me away – for You are with me, even though Your footprints are not seen. You lead me like a little lamb. You carry me when I can go no further.
You have called me to defend the cause of the weak and powerless, to maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed. And yet I myself am weak and needy. Rise up, O Lord, and save me. Make me to soar on wings like eagles’; to run and not grow weary.
“Open wide your mouth,” He said to me, “and I will fill it. I will feed you from My hand and you will never want.”
As a child, I had memorized Isaiah’s words about passing through the waters and not being overwhelmed by them, but I didn’t remember that same idea being in the Psalms. Yet here it was – part of my own psalm - the same message I had heard in the lectio divinia: “I will be with you.” Whatever comes my way, He is already there – fire, flood, height, depth – there is nowhere we can go where He is not already there (Rom. 8:38-39).
And then we did the group spiritual direction. In this exercise, we began by silently listening to God for five minutes, waiting for His stirrings around a specific topic, seeking direction towards what God wanted each of us to ask the rest of the group to listen for on our behalf. When the five minutes were up, you each shared with the group what God had led you to ask for prayer regarding. In my case, I believed God was asking me to ask for prayer regarding my purpose, as well as His purpose for me in the midst of weakness and cancer.
And then my fellow group members spent three minutes listening to God for His message to me. The expectation is not that everyone will get something to share. But if you do have something come to mind, you share it, even if it seems weird or irrelevant or just silly. You are just the messenger. Share whatever you receive and let God do the rest.
I got a number of beautiful messages regarding my purpose, but they will keep for another blog post. The one that has stuck with me is the one the person was embarrassed to share. She apologized for it and said she was sure she had done the exercise wrong. But our group leader reminded her that we were supposed to share whatever we received. So she told me – the entire three minutes all she could think about was a rubber duck.
We all had a good laugh when she shared that. But the message hit me almost immediately: I’m the rubber duck! Not in the bathtub anymore, but out in the ocean, bobbing around in rough seas, seas rough enough to sink a ship. But I’m a rubber duck! No matter how hard they splash, the waves can’t sink me. I resurface every time. And because I’m rubber, the water doesn’t even affect me. It just rolls right off. I’m in the water and the mighty waves don’t overwhelm; I pass through the waters and He is with me. The same message I got through the lectio divina and the same message I got through the psalm-writing exercise.
It was a powerful message to me. And I’ve taken it and treasured it up and have been pondering it in my heart.
Comments
Post a Comment