Silent Snow Softening Down on a New Year's Blessing

As I write this dream, this poem, it’s early and the light is dawning on silent snow softening down, sticking, obscuring the landscape of regret with the pure white of forgiveness, a blank slate of hope on which today can be written. It’s peaceful being snowed in--particularly when you have light and warmth, inside your spirit with His Spirit, and outside in our little flat. We’re called into the quiet and the blanketing of snow confirms our calling. We ARE living the life that we would love.   Loved this poem by John O'Donohue:

May I have the courage today

To live the life that I would love,

To postpone my dream no longer

But do at last what I came here for

And waste my heart on fear no more.

 And then there is his blessing for a new year and shucking the weight of past years:

On the day when

The weight deadens

On your shoulders

And you stumble,

May the clay dance

To balance you.

And when your eyes

Freeze behind

The gray window

And the ghost of loss

Gets into you,

May a flock of colors,

Indigo, red, green,

And azure blue,

Come to awaken in you

A meadow of delight.

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,

May the clarity of light be yours,

May the fluency of the ocean be yours,

May the protection of the Lord be yours.

And so may a slow

Wind work these words

Of love around you,

An invisible cloak

To mind your life.

Step by Step

Yesterday I set out to climb Hellvalyn Fell. It’s one of the most challenging fells around but I thought it was a cool day’s climb with the recent snow melt; no problem. As I climbed I was partly listening to podcasts, partly praying. I was asking God, “where is my next step to be?” Then my feet would move this way or that; one step at a time. Then another step would be clear at that point, but not before.


I made it to within 100 meters of the top. At that point, on what turned out to be a sharply inclined icefield, some internal cost/benefit ratio of risk to fun or safety got crossed. I think I looked down. Hanging onto icy handholds with all four limbs and inching along upwards suddenly didn’t seem like such a giggle. So I listened to myself say, “Self, should we go down or continue on up?” Self said go up.

Then I said, “Lord, should we go up or down—what do you say? And what do you think Bethyl would say?” The answer was, “Get off the mountain you fool.” Hmmm. Hardly flattering. But I turned around and inched down to safety. As I was picking my way carefully down, two climbers passed me after having summitted; they were equipped with crampons and ice picks. Later, this morning I found that three people last year had died on Hellvalyn due to not listening well and exceeding their limits. So, thanks God for your protection, for causing me to listen and obey. One step at a time.

Keeping Clear

Naomi Remmen’s book, My Grandfather’s Blessings, mentioned a story where she got a silver bracelet from a dear and wise friend, a counselor. It had one word engraved on it, “clear.” She wore it for a long time before asking what it meant. The friend said, look it up in a big dictionary, not a small one. Many definitions emerged, among them, “free from obstruction, entanglement, impurity, debt…”. The most meaningful definition, however, was “a perfect transmitter of light.” I can be that transmitter of God’s light in Jesus now and again—particularly as we move toward that shortest day of the year on December 22nd, but day in and out, can I keep clear? In my role of shepherding the unruly sheep within me, or around me--those in the fold, in the cold, in the mist, and in the dark, can I keep clear?

I am to be a clear reflection of His beauty, a mirror of his mercy, and grace, and generosity. Lord, let me mirror your character in my own.

When blown by winds of circumstance, frozen sideways by icy coldness from those around us, can I stand as a silent testimony to how deep my roots have gone?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

The Line Up

Friday was exceptional in the memory making department. Quite a trip back from Stratford-upon-Avon after seeing “Matilda!” yesterday afternoon and a Christmas carol concert yesterday evening in Holy Trinity Church.


We practiced snow-skidding around on the motorways, being stuck at a dead stop for hours, and then limping home thru a huge snow dump. Once close to home we enlisted two passing angels to push us up the last icy bit. We unpacked the car in the dark at the hill bottom and climbed our half-mile steep and icy hill, dragging our overnight bag behind us in the deep, new snow. We fell often, laughing at ourselves, on the 25 degree Foul Step Lane. A hot bath felt good once we collapsed in the front door of our flat.

Later in the night I was meditating on how Christmas makes shepherds of us all to the lost sheep lined up around us. I become aware also of how God’s last Lamb came, ironically, to shepherd us. He, in my busyness, becomes a forgotten Carol that the Father wants to sing to me. As I played “The Forgotten Christmas Carols” by Michael McLean (a 1991 classic), my eyes and heart fill with thanksgiving for His huge descent from his warm home to a far off speck on the edge of a minor galaxy to enact the drama of the Ages once again with a fresh batch of created rebels. My mind opens also to consider the current consensus of astronomers that technologically advanced civilizations probably exist on between a thousand and a million planets just in our little galaxy (Time, Dec 6, 2010, p. 6). I see Him peering down, wondering if and who and when each of his sheep will make a straight path toward Him even as He did toward us.

Grazing on Grace

A beautiful snowfall last night left us wakening to a winter wonderland. It came and went without notice, so like God wouldn’t you say? “When you help someone out… do it quietly and unobtrusively. This is how God, who conceived you in love, working quietly behind the scenes, helps you out.” (Matt 6:3-4, Message).


It doesn’t take much pawing beneath the surface to find something good on which to graze. This ram knows how to feed on God’s grace without a whole lot of ado. His wonder is all around and within us if we too scratch the surface. Happy Thanksgiving season indeed.

Sensing Grace at Thanksgiving

We’re continuing to sabbaticalize well here in the Lake District. Winter is arriving tonight with arctic blasts out of Siberia coming up and over the hills to the north; snowfall tonight.


Today I was focusing on putting away Money in the memorization bank--where thieves cannot break thru and steal. My working edge is in Matthew 6: 5-15:

“And when you come before God don’t turn that into a theatrical production either. All these people making a regular show out of their prayers, hoping for stardom! Do you think God sits in a box seat? Here’s what I want you to do: find a quiet, secluded place so you won’t be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace. The world is full of so called prayer warriors who are prayer ignorant. They’re full of formulas, programs, and advice, peddling techniques for getting what you want from God. Don’t fall for that nonsense. This is your Father you are dealing with, and he knows better than you what you need. With a God like this loving you, you can pray very simply. Like this:

Our Father in heaven, reveal who you are. Set the world right. Do what’s best—as above, so below. Keep us alive with three square meals. Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others. Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil. You’re in charge! You can do anything you want! You’re ablaze in beauty! Yes. Yes. Yes.

When I was working on the part, “your focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense his grace”, it was morning on my way over the fells to Ambleside and I took this picture, thinking to myself, “Lord, if I can’t sense your grace here in this moment where can I sense it?” it was a blessed being moment. Later in the day I passed these sheep around our local backyard tarn, Loughrigg. What a peaceful picture of His creatures keeping pace with the Spirit, feeding on what He has provided. Today, gratefully, the Lord has also been my shepherd.

Have a blessed Thanksgiving tomorrow. From the far side of the pond. Your brother and sister. Vance and Bethyl Joy

Clearing Space

         As I was slogging thru the cold, driving rain this morning from Neaum Crag over Loughrigg Fell to Ambleside, for my yoga class, I was listening to a podcast, “Pray-As-You-Go”. The theme was Jesus cleansing the temple--an old saw to be sure. But the comments to this passage caught me up short: “people will always be angry when Jesus clears a space to worship Him.” When he flogs away my profit or prestige motives within my inner temple, don’t I too want to kill Him? Don’t I do so over and over with weapons of mass distraction? I hit the “Jesus Delete” button on my consciousness. I resume life as a functional atheist. I put a Mafia-style bullet in the back of His head, and say, ‘nothing personal; just busyness.’

The word “therapist” derives from the ancient Greek, a hybrid word, “theo” and “rapiste”, God and janitor. Thus a therapist is God’s janitor. The ancient therapists pushed brooms, clearing space in the temple for people to worship their gods. I have been a therapist for others. Now it’s my turn to clean and clear, scrubbing space into stillness where I can meet with Jesus peaceably rather than homocidally.  Like this local tree was scrubbed clean in just a few days.  

My focal verses for this sabbatical year are from Isaiah 58:12-14: “if you watch your step on the Sabbath, not using my Holy Day for personal advantage; if you treat the Sabbath as a day of joy, God’s holy day as a celebration; if you refuse ‘business as usual,’ making money, running here and there—then you’ll be free to enjoy God. Oh I’ll make you ride high and soar above it all…” Yes. So let it be. For me and for thee.

Flooding & Homesick & Beautifully Blessed

                   Appreciation!     We’re thankful when we hear of you partnering with us – as you read our journey, remembering us, and praying for us. So many of the apostle Paul’s letters are mingled with his keen attachment to friends he rarely saw… and now we are personally experiencing relationships + physical distance.

                 Month 1:     Today we have been in the United Kingdom for one month. The orchestral symphony of His grace is deepening…with stretching and promising new scores. Take last Friday as an example – the rain was steady and intensifying. We drove into Ambleside for a few grocery items and to have dinner. As we sloshed through flooded areas, very deep puddles came over the tires… be vigilant and very cautious at all times (1 Peter 5:9) came to mind… 70 minutes later as we came home these same puddles were flooding … cars were stopped to the side. Vance entered the heaviest of the flood zones. As the water rose to cover our headlights, I prayed “Oh, Jesus, help us… Help us, Lord… You promise to help when we are in trouble.” As the car cleared the flooding areas, “thank you, Jesus. Thank You. You helped us.” Knowing and experiencing are quite different. Knowing God’s promise and leaning into His Words to become reality is where we are in our pursuit of Him through this “set apart” time of rest. Can’t say the rising flood of the river over our headlamps was restful at the time… but the truth that He hears and comes when we call on Him is fortifying our faith.

                     In the Way.    We are among fellow pilgrims who are venturing into headwaters of “trust and obey.” Not a new road and quite familiar to many who are followers of Jesus, the Christ. We’ve heard “partial obedience is 100% disobedience.” We know the distinct Hand of God in our moving from California and His timing in our doing so.

We’re letting thankfulness gain ground in our hearts as we agree with David from 1 Chronicles 29:11 “… we adore You as being in control of everything…” Nonetheless – this walk is, quite bluntly, hard. I’m so “homesick” at times – and now “I have no home.”  Not a news flash to me… I anticipated this… our son’s girlfriend, Shauna said “it’s so hard for you but you are going anyway!” I said “the point is obedience not whether it’s hard or not.” As I remain honest before the Lord, reality sets in, and I realize my heart-felt delight to be His daughter and part of the tenacious body of Jesus Christ.

 I’m learning Christ’s commands are inverted promises—when I obey the command, then the promised strength comes, not before.

I being in the way, the Lord led me (Genesis 24:27). We watch for His markings – like this exquisite perspective of the swan being enveloped by this tree’s submission to the season of change, the Fall. We go from glory to glory. The season of winter gloriously descended onto the green pastures today.

                          On the way. One of the marvelous markings on my life during my single years were walks along the cliffs of Laguna Beach, California with Molly – a friend who radiated the presence of God. Arms linked, I was Molly’s eyes -- describing the numerous details of the ocean, cliffs, sand, shells, people we passed. And, she was training my ears – “listen, Beth… do you hear the symphony in the music of the ocean? Can you hear the string instruments playing?” Never had I attuned my ears to hear what Molly heard. Molly, blind at age 22 with the onset of diabetes, sang her own written songs from the Song of Solomon, for our wedding nearly 29 years ago now. Her sights for Jesus always outshone her debilitating challenges. One of her friends shared, “you know, Molly, most people die and go to heaven, but you—you’re going piece by piece.” All of Molly joined Jesus this last week—and we know she’s singing “Glory! Glory! I’m home!” Now… we have two of our “saint-friends” in glory – Meg and Molly. I’m so thankful this world is not my home… I’m just a traveling through. My treasures are laid up…beyond the blue…” Both finished their course well! May I, too!

A Different Kind of Rainbow

I finished My Grandfather’s Blessings by Naomi Remmen, last night. What a blessed book. If she isn’t a believer, Jesus, she ought to be. Lead her, Spirit, to the Son; let her be one of the sheep from a different fold who come to know you, Father.


She tagged an incubus thought that I had yet to birth: “Perhaps real wisdom lies in not seeking answers at all. Any answer we find will not be true for long. An answer is a place where we can fall asleep as life moves past us to its next question. After all these years I have begun to wonder if the secret of living well is not in having all the answers but in pursuing unanswerable questions in good company.” P 338.

She augments with the idea that as we court relationship with Mystery our need for smaller certainties fades. This need for sure certainties is replaced with an ongoing sense of awe, wonder, and growing gratitude to the One whose ways are as far above our ways as the heavens are above the earth.

Another thought she gave me as a jewel when the sun hits it: “fear is the friction in all transitions.” One role I have had and will have again is that of emotional WD-40. A little squirt here and there acts as lock-ease for the soul in motion from one small certainty to something else.

And another little story of a boy who had found a rainbow trout washed up from the cresting river into what was then a shrinking draining ditch. The trout was struggling to survive. The boy was heartbroken. He picked the trout up and rushed it back into the river. He remembered later, on his dying bed as an old man, the shiver of rainbow delight as the trout realized once again it was part of the river. As he too was soon to be.

One final snippet. When the Concorde was traveling at Mach 2, 1,350 mph, it used multiple computers to keep it on course. When traveling at such a high speed human reaction time was far too slow a corrective. So one computer was constantly jiggling the other back on course. They made little whirring noises as they corrected each other back and forth. One attentive passenger, who had been given a tour of the cockpit on the Concorde’s maiden voyage, asked, “what per cent of the time is the plane off course?” The pilot replied, “about 99% of the time. However we will arrive in Paris from New York at our projected time, plus or minus 60 seconds.”

The feedback systems between computers aren’t frictioned with the need to be right. They accept correction without quarreling. Could two pilots correct each other thousands of times in one flight without overheating defensiveness and argumentation? Could I stand to be wrong 99% of the time without losing courage? Lord, give me the humility to be corrected, adjusted, tuned to your hovering Spirit, moment by moment. Let me recognize when that correction from You comes thru another, or a stubbed toe, or a closed door as readily as through a hunch, word of knowledge, or flashing insight.

Streaming Glories

Another glorious day. Fulfilled promises was a theme as I walked near Troutbeck, a little village outside Windermere. I’ve been working on scripture memory, as I’ve written in the past. One of the chapters I’d tucked away was Deuteronomy 8. One of the verses that made me smile always when I was repeating it, was: “I’m about to bring you into a good land, a land of brooks and rivers, springs and lakes, streams flowing out of the hills and into the valleys…” And another chapter, more famous, Psalm 23, “he makes me lie down in green pastures….” That’s because I’m so daggum stubborn that I won’t lie down on my own accord; so He has to make me. God be blessed, even as he blessed me with streaming trails of glory flowing among resting sheep.

Found in the Mist

             The Lord seems to be speaking to me lately, as I walk the fells, of humility and obscurity; letting that be okay. He uses just plain people, not hifaluting folks. So today the moors, the fog, the drizzle, the enveloping woods, grazing sheep, and swirling mist were all perfect. I folded right in and was lost from sight immediately, if not sooner.


Here in the Lakes you are surrounded by invincible evidence of a Living Artist at work. In the face of such autumn audacities towering over me, crunching underfoot, thundering beside me in the river and falls, misting my lips as I move through the patchy fog—how can I be other than grateful to be a tiny little part of His Story unfolding with each breath? I was reading a sermon by my friend, Gary Stubblefield, today. He spoke of plagiarism as being ingratitude & theft of intellectual property. The assertion of self sufficiency is cosmic ingratitude & theft of God’s claim on the entire universe. Humility is the opposite of self sufficiency. It’s a grateful fear of God, a jubilant reverence that revels in God’s stunning goodness toward us. It’s been a good day. No, scratch that. A glorious day.

What Do You See?

        We’re finding out that being a foreigner in a strange land isn’t always easy. We wanted to get a cell phone, for example. We can’t do that without a bank account. We can’t get a bank account without a permanent address. We can’t get a permanent address without a national identity card or a bank account. And so it goes. There are ways and means to do all of that, but it requires flexibility, patience, persistence, and good humor. It’s humbling.


           We finally get a temporary bank account, a beginner account given to students who have just arrived in the country. We can apply for a regular upgrade to entry bank account in a year. What does the Lord require of you, oh man, but to do justly, love mercy, walk humbly… (Micah 9:6).

           As we walk out of the bank we look up to the sky and see this rainbow over the local cancer treatment center. A gentle reminder was spoken to our spirits in that moment: "Live under my grace, my promise, before you go further about the work of treating soul cancer". We, in that moment, had eyes to see. When we pointed out the rainbow to passers-by, excited, they mostly shrugged it off: “Rains so much here, it’s a common sight.” Just like everyday bushes in the desert when Moses was going about his everyday business, but he was given eyes to see the flames and know he was on holy ground. He looked. With eyes of faith, open wide. So what about me, and thee?

The Crossroads of Beauty and Danger

October 16, 2010

Today we drove south to Burnside Park here in Bowness-on-Windermere. The beauty around each corner kept cutting new traces of wonder in our soul-scapes. We were amazed and grateful at God’s creativity in this part of the world. Here is a pix of Bethyl at a major local crossroads. Also one of more local scenery, with a close up of the two of us, for your eyes to feast upon.

Last night was a little different sort of soul-scrape, however. We were returning from a longish trip on the motorways. It was dark, rainy, and I was tired. The dual carriageway was flipping back and forth to single carriageway. Windscreen wipers were slapping the rain away, streaking the glass. I missed my signage to the left and suddenly was face to face with another car, each of us doing 60+ mph.  I jagged left, crossed a median strip, and jigged back to my correct lane. Near miss. Thank you, Lord, for safety in the midst of that close call! You’ve promised to keep us safe as we travel across kingdoms; we claimed that promise here in the United Kingdom.

GPS

O satisfy us, Vance and Bethyl Joy, with Your mercy and loving-kindness in the morning (now, before we are older), that we may rejoice and be glad all our days. Psalm 90:14


We’ve been gently and persistently wakened in the morning by the birds outside our windows—welcoming us to the Ullswater area, a northern part of The Lake District. We’ve heard we are experiencing of sun and warm weather that “shouldn’t be so.” We thank God for His “most warm welcome!” Teach us to number our days that we may get us a heart of wisdom Psalm 90:12. Father, teach me today to consciously choose to receive the beauty and delightfulness and favor of the Lord our God upon us; confirm and establish the work of our hands-yes, the work of our hands, confirm and establish it. Psalm 90:17.

We’ve given these days into His will—His GPS (God’s Perfect Scheme)! When we are off course, the blue bubble is not on the purple line. Vance’s I-Phone GPS has worked poorly for several weeks—and it proved no different in the UK. Frustrating ourselves in an unsuccessful attempt to locate a car dealer just after leaving the Manchester Airport, we were lost. We opted to set that seemingly impetuous agenda aside, get on the motorway and head north to The Lake District. The GPS worked well in our recalibrated direction—and we realized our well-thought out agenda was not HIS timing.

… my head spins with the “leaving” but also the clarity that “what door/window God opens…no one can shut!” “And, what door/window God closes…no one can open!” We are walking these unmarked paths with our invisible Savior on an invisible path of faith – and watching the visible respond to His will. I’m overwhelmed with His intentional Presence. Grateful that when He shuts the door, “safe am I…safe am I in the hollow of His Hand…”

Unmasking His Glory

Lovely flights yesterday from Chicago through Heathrow to Manchester, along with a delightful drive north to Penrith, an ancient town on the northern outskirts of the Lake District, and from there to Lothwaite B&B out in the gows and fells of the civil world’s fringes. A gentle Danish couple, Jim and Tina, Mt Kili ex-guides from Tanzania, run this place with their two small daughters. We collapsed last night and did three things: slept, slept, and slept. All in that order. And now, this morning, browsed, bathed, and breakfasted.

I was aware of grieving the past lettings-go in these quiet moments. A solemn still-quiet settled in my spirit. An empty space preparing me to know it when I’ve deleted my completeds and face an empty slate. One of my readings I’ll share with you, but only so much as would be good for you:

“Unless we learn to grieve, we may need to live life at a distance in order to protect ourselves from pain. We may not be able to risk having anything that really matters to us or allow ourselves to be touched, oto be intimate, to care or be cared about. Untouched, we will suffer anyway. We just will not be transformed by our suffering. Grieving may be one of the most fundamental of life skills. It is the way that the heart can heal from loss and go on to love again and grow wise. If it were up to me, it would be taught in kindergarten, right up there with taking turns and sharing.” My Grandfather’s Blessings, p 145.

Later in this day: I’ve also enjoyed today the unmasking of God’s glory all about us as walked thru “the good land that I’ve brought you into, a land of brooks and rivers, springs and lakes, streams running out of the hills and down through the valleys…” Deut 8. He put his stunning artistry on display, encouraging us also to play, inviting our attention to stay—on Him. And so we did throughout this day, our first full day of Sabbatical. We’re counting on this being a preview of coming attractions, as we too let down, unmask, and become more clearly created in His image.   Below is a woolly look at a close to the ground part of us.

In this regard I was reading last night of a little girl who, in kindergarten, spent the day making Halloween masks with her fellow classmates. When her mother came to pick her up, she saw her mom looking in vain to find her, even though she was just right before her eyes. She burst into tears, took off her mask, and ran to her parent. Her mom consoled her child. But the child said, “Mommy, I knew who I was behind my mask; why didn’t you?” I wondered, how much do I know of me and thee, each of us securely tucked behind the masks of our own making? Lord, unmask your glory in me, and we, as you did with your more pliant creation of sheep, streams, and silvans. Amen.

Vance and Bethyl's new look

Gentling Yourself

October 6, 2010


           Today I walked about the neighborhood over 8 miles. Up and down across the rolling autumn farm fields with trees brightly lit in God’s borrowed glory. Wondering at His creativity; letting the peripherals of my existence blow off my limbs while I sink my roots into God’s soil.  Preparing now for leaving for England's sabbatical tomorrow.  Surrounded by the glory of His life within me and around me, I have enjoyed meditating on this poem from Derek Walcott, Time After Time:

The time will come

when, with elation

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror

and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your Life.

Hot Wheels

              Boy, we’ve been burning the rubber. The state we’ve been through include not only georgraphy of 25 states in the USA and one province in Canada, but also various states of mind and heart. We’ve been up, we’ve been down, but throughout we’ve been held by the Statesman of our souls. We thoroughly enjoyed our time in Canada as well as seeing relatives and a dear friend of many years in Atlanta, GA this past week. This coming weekend we speak in another church, this time in Chicago.   It’s been fun all along to travel light, feel unemcumbered with too much stuff. Thank you, Jesus.


            One story on this theme that might speak to you is from My Grandfather’s Blessings by Rachel Remen. The story goes that this six year old boy, from a poor family, became friends with his neighbor, a woman physician. They would play with his two hot wheel cars. They would race them on the window sills. Sometimes one would have the one with a chipped wheel; sometimes the other. The woman loved him very much. When a local promotion from a gas station advertised a free hot wheels car with every fill up, she mobilized her friends to get all 21 varieties of the hot wheels. Then she presented them to him in a big box. After a short time she noticed he had stopped playing with them. She asked him why he’d stopped. “He looked away and in a quivery voice he said, ‘I don’t know how to love this many cars, Rachel.’ I was stunned. Ever since, I’ve been careful to be sure not to have more Hot Wheels than I can love.” (p. 44).

We’re working on loving our exceedingly few hot wheels, four to be exact, found on our aging camper van. It’s home now for us in these days before we leave on October 7th for the UK. Thanks for praying with and for us that our time there will be free of clutching, grasping, but rather one that leads to an open and spacious place of reverence, wholeness, and holiness. Thank you, our loving and praying friends.

Am I This Kind of Bridge?

This bridge is 20 stories tall.  It's made of solid limestone.  It's millons of years old.

George Washington carved his initials here.  Thomas Jefferson bought the property from King George for 2 bucks.   Civil war soldiers were given this view as a reward for battles well fought.   Settlers used  this as a main thoroughfare west over the Appalachians on their covered wagons.

It's a silent testament to the power of bridges in our world.   We enjoyed it today as we are heading south to Atlanta through Blue Ridge Parkway country.   It made me think.   How quick am I to make a bridge of empathy between me and you?   How hard to I work to bridge differences without bending truth?   How much do I work to keep and live out the beatitude in Matthew 5:9  "You are blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight.  It is then that you know who you really are and your place in God's family. (Message)."    Lord, make me that kind of bridge.   Amen.

Courage: the next step

        Another day. Another Comfort Inn. This time after having enjoyed Ottawa and Quebec. We came, we saw, we met a missions committee, we left. We’ve enjoyed old friends, made new friends, and asked for new prayer partners. Now we’re in Waterford, NY and heading west again toward “the barn” in Michigan, through Ohio to visit family.


Yesterday’s sermon by Rick Reed at Metropolitan Bible Church was inspiring. Made me want to be a better man. Here are some thoughts from it:

“God doesn’t want us to be shy with His gifts, but bold and loving and sensible.” II Tim 1:7 (Message)


Our goal is to respect and reflect courage, even tho we have a family propensity as people toward fear. II Tim is a primer on the courage that it takes to face the possibility of losing face, friends, family, freedom. We were meant for more than ducking and dodging. He meant us to fear Him so we wouldn’t have to fear anything or anyone else that would keep us from doing what He wants us to do. Courage is the antidote to fear. Courage is fear that has said its prayers.

Courage is interior character that is impelled by the Holy Spirit to: “keep calm and carry on”, like the old poster from Britain during WWII.

Courage has power, love, and self discipline as its three building blocks:

1. Power is the ability to take action, to do the right thing, to just sometimes only do the next thing. The next thing may be small and inglorious, but essential.

2. Love is the availability to give help, even when it costs you plenty. This is Jesus’ primary take-away lesson for living.

3. Self discipline is the stable sensibility to control yourself under the Spirit’s influence, especially the interior self of thoughts and feelings.

Canada here we come!

Vance and Bethyl Joy here. We’re now a couple of hours east of our new address here in Michigan. We just moved our stuff in yesterday to our friend’s barn. Worked all day to stash the stuff up high and tight along one wall after building shelves with a local carpenter from their church. Looks great, if I do say so myself! Pix is of Bethyl and our friend of over 40 years, Marian, in whose home (with her husband, Keith) we now have a place. We spent the day before getting MI residency requirements met: new driver’s licenses, vehicle registration for our 17 yr old camper van, voter registration, MI state insurance for the van, a bank account and HSA at the local credit union. We were able to get our same personal ID license plate that we had for our Honda in CA: NCOURGR. Like to be encouragers wherever we go .

We left our new address yesterday after packing and have weathered over in Flint on the way to Ottawa. We’re meeting with the missions committee for Metropolitan Bible Church there on Sunday. This is the prior church of a good friend of ours in So Cal, Gary Stubblefield. We traveled with him and his psychologist wife, Suzanne, last summer to India and Nepal. Along the way we trekked with the chair of this committee, Chris Shadbolt. We’ll stay with his family in Ottawa. Pray that our time will go well.

On the way back south we’ll stop with friends in Rochester and then move on down, perhaps, to just say hi to the folks at Interserve HQ at Upper Darby, PA. That would be somewhere from the 23rd to the 25th of the month. We were wanting to check in with them for a bit before we hop our one way flight to the UK out of Chicago on Oct 7th. I might be able to hop a short flight to Atlanta and back to visit my sister and my “adoptive” mom, Harriette, before flying out of Chicago.

All for now from rainy Flint at the Comfort Inn. Blessings to you all. Vance and Bethyl Joy

You Must Be Present to Win

August 28, 2010


A scene from Scenic Byway State Road 12 up and over Boulder Mountains:  green and glorious stands of quaking aspens up to and over the summit of the Utah highlands at 9300 ft. The quaking was filled with awe, excitement, and glory to the Creator: “and the trees clapped their hands, with vigor.”

Those massive red slate rocks jut straight up thousands of feet from our campground, striated with lines of terracotta, cream, and blood-stained layers. Park rangers told me that rains on the forested crests percolate down through porous layers of rock. This sandstone holds up to 20% of its weight in water. So the waters trickle downwards in the dark, and emerge, sometimes as long as 3,000 years later, into the weeping mountain base. I imagine that the water is weeping with relief that its finally been released from within the mountain :).  As I consider these truths I must consider the One who imagined, created, and sustains them. He not only made the blueprint, but also the building; not only the map, but the territory.

It’s been a good day of travel through this glorious territory. Often we became aware of our unhurriedness. We would stop and walk, inhaling deeply the extra oxygen from all this green. My lungs are barely adjusting, shocked at the absence of smog. In spite of these withdrawals, my whole body gives praise to the God who keeps us all on life support. Bethyl and I would read to one another, pray, sing from the hymnal, and commit verses to memory.   We are the "Human Factor", as I'm pointing out here, in the midst of the God Factor.

I’ve enjoyed continuing to read Rachel Naomi Remen’s book, Kitchen Table Wisdom. In it she relates many instructive teaching stories. One tells the tale of a woman who had a successful heart surgery for angina. Prior to that time she would experience physical pain, but also more instructive, subtle pains. Her heart hurt when she compromised her own sense of personal integrity, skated across a deeper truth, caught herself going along to get along—“times when she allowed who she really was to become invisible… (p 76).” After her surgery these subtle signs became fewer and although she was physically more comfortable, she missed “her inner adviser.”

Another story is of a group of physicians sitting at the feet of the great mythologist, Joseph Campbell. He was showing slides of different faces of the Divine. One was of God dancing joyously with one leg raised high in the air, the other planted on the back of a small, naked man busily examining the veins of a small leaf. When asked what this meant to him, Campbell replied, “Why, my man, it’s obvious. This is a naturalist such as yourself, who is so absorbed in his science that he doesn’t even know that God is dancing on his back.” I recognized myself at various points past and present and ask my Lord for his forgiveness. I’m grateful that school’s open every day that I wish to attend. But I must show up, be sentient, aware, conscious. Like the big sign in the Florida senior center recreation hall--where bingo games are played daily--“You must be present to win.”

Birth Announcement

We were delivered on August 24th, 12:35pm, two newlings bleating hallelujah as we slid through the birth canal from California to the rest of our lives. We were between Las Vegas and the Virgin River crossing into Arizona when the phone call came. The hospital looked like a title company; the obstetrician, an escrow officer. The news was that escrow had closed; it was delivered, complete, fini, done.

It had been a long pregnancy of 17 months and four days. We were overdue. But 2112 Pioneer Avenue is now someone else’s responsibility and we are free folks to pursue a new life. The pregnancy had been long one and coincided with my memorization of Romans 7:15-8:31 (Message version), part of which says, “All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. And it’s not only around us; it’s within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We too are feeling the birth pangs. These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for complete deliverance. But that’s why waiting doesn’t diminish us any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what’s enlarging us, but the longer we wait, the larger we become. And the moment we grow tired in the waiting the Spirit comes alongside to help us along….”

We have been delivered from our house and our practice, our children and our friends--our past enlisted in preparing us for the future. We grieve the loss of the familiar friendships, the tried, tested turf of “home.” The relationships that have mattered will continue on with us, just configured differently--more seasoned, mature, and able to adapt with the times.

This new life is as yet undefined. We can be sure that it is “not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike, ‘what’s next, Papa?’ I find that I breathe my way one Spirit breath at a time into the future: “when God lives and breathes in you (and he does as surely as he did in Jesus), you are delivered…” The labor that went into the delivery was painfully instructive, shaping our character in ways we had not imagined. But we are grateful now to be set free after 25 years and a few months in that particular address with that particular mission. Now both mission and geography change. God bless you for reading; and us in the living it out with a heart of love for the Father who gave us birth.

de-clutching

August 14th 2010


Love this thought from George McDonald in his book, Diary of an Old Soul: “In holy things may be unholy greed. Thou giv'st a glimpse of many a lovely thing, Not to be stored for use in any mind, But only for the present spiritual need. The holiest bread, if hoarded, soon will breed The mammon-moth, the having-pride, I find. 'Tis momently thy heart gives out heart-quickening.”

I want be free of this clutching, looking over my shoulder, saving up against a rainy day, rearing up on hind legs to keep treasure from the gnawing wolves. Let me gladly give my house, stuff, car, clothes if I get You in the bargain. “Leave all to follow me,” You said. Give me guts and gumption enough to do that.

Letting God hold us in mid-air

Hi Folks,

After more than 25 years in our delightful home-sanctuary, we are moving on… Following in the steps of our Old Testament mentors, Abraham and Sarah, we’re packing up, moving on – even though we do not yet know where we are going! God said “pack up” – we are. God said “start walking” – we are. They asked “where are we going?” God said “I’ll tell you … later.” Eventually, we trust we will be on foreign soil… teaching, counseling, responding in tangible ways to the needs that God lays in our path which does include being partners with Interserve missions www.interserveusa.org



What this looks like is: While we expected closing of escrow to be finished, it remains delayed. Both buyer and seller are motivated to make this deal happen ~ pray with us this will come together “In His Time.” The buyer is having glitches with a trust account for the older children he adopted when his sister and brother-in-law died, both to cancer. Our movers packed all our belongings on August 5th. On this particular Saturday, August 7th, we are sitting in patio chairs, borrowed from our backyard, in an absolutely empty house save our frig, which will walk out the door next week to a Jewish buyer family from Craig’s list. With the close of escrow, Lord willing we’ll head eastbound in the Roadtrek camper van we’ve had since July 1993. Bound for Zion & Bryce Canyon National Parks [favorites of ours since Bethyl’s Dad, Eddie, died in 1991]. Our sized-down belongings will be delivered to their new home: an insulated, finished barn on the property of our dear friends, Keith and Marian Hoezee in Hudsonville, Michigan. They are supporting our missionary work by storing our earthly stuff. We are blessed “sojourners!”



On Saturday, July 17th the 3rd anniversary of Jonathan Edward’s home-going (Bethyl’s disabled brother), we shared a delightful meal of food, sharing, and anointing prayer with about 40 dear friends who represent marked altars in our life experiences during our 28+ years of marriage. Our former Pastor Graydon & his wife, Judy, (previously pastoring in Alaska) joined to place His blessing upon us. “thanks to God… for times… now but a memory…”

We’re intending to honor “a call to rest,” a Sabbatical that we have preached but not practiced much until recent times. It’s now time to obey. Lord willing this will be in the north of England as God opens the way… perhaps in September. We’re praying that we listen well to The Voice of the Lord – as we go… as we rest… and that sometime during this period, God will heighten our hearing to the place He is preparing for us. We won’t be surprised if it’s India – but … He may well surprise us… as He’s been known to do. We do know this: “they who dwell in the secret place of the Most High shall remain stable and fixed in the shelter of the Almighty [whose power no foe can withstand!” Amplified. Psalm 91:1].

For now, you can reach us on our cell phones: Vance @ 714 350 8100. Bethyl @ 714 615 0379. OR with our current e-mail: vshepperson@sbcglobal.net or BethylJoy@sbcglobal.net . However, our e-mail addresses also are already updated to vanceshepperson@gmail.com and bethyljoy@gmail.com which is what we will have after disconnecting our present phones. Feel free to follow us on our blog: http://thesheppersons.blogspot.com Our forwarding address is: 950 28th Avenue. Hudsonville, MI 49426-9630

We hope to use e-mail and our blog to connect with you – we also would appreciate your input to us – up-to-date email addresses, current events in your life, and prayer needs. We hope you will want to partner with us with prayers and perhaps financially if you’re so led. We will use our own savings for living expenses and are just looking for financial support with  health care and mission related expenses (missionary counseling, de-briefing, training, consulting, and teaching). We were saddened this morning to hear of the missionaries in Afghanistan being killed; two were partners with Interserve So, “If you think of us, don’t just think, go to God immediately with your thoughts and He will create just the response to us that your thought was intended for.” We will do this for you as well.

Shalom!

Vance and Bethyl Joy

Getting De-Stuffed

July 18, 2010


The process of downsizing, two shrinks shrinking, is sensationally bittersweet. I sense with my eyes, ears, nose, tongue, skin both the bitter and sweet of letting go. Our house, packed to the gills for 25 years, now echoes when you drop a pin. It’s getting that empty. The moving van shows up on the 28th to take our remnant of stuff to a dear friend’s barn in the Midwest for storage. We leave at close of escrow on the 30th.

I love seeing stuff walk out the door. Mostly. My massage chair hurt to see go. But overall, there’s a visceral lightness of being that goes with being de-stuffed. The smell of obedience rises like jasmine on the breeze of a crisp new morning. “This resurrection life we have received from God is not a timid grave tending life. It’s adventurously expectant as we greet God with a child-like, “what’s next, Papa?” (Rom 8:13, Message)

We had a prayer meeting of about 40 folks here yesterday. It was good to be prayed over, supported by long time friends who know us and like us anyway. As we quest into our unknown future it’s best not to go alone. The Africans have a saying, “if you wish to go quickly, go alone; if you wish to go far, go together.” We need you to go with us as we travel. When God brings a wisp of a memory of us to your awareness, take that as a mandate to zip off a bullet prayer for the Father to assist us in that very moment wherever we are and whatever we are doing. We would be most grateful. Stay tuned to the Spirit. He’ll remind you of Jesus, always, and us from time to time.

Remember?

July 4th 2010


           Alice, my mother-in-law, in the living years, used to say, “If I could remember your name I’d ask you where I put my keys.” She had a healthy respect for her memory lapses--particularly as she reached her mid-eighties and then got her vertical promotion at age 87. My memory is more and more resembles Vance’s Milk of Amnesia, For Times When He Can’t Remember Poop”.

But I am not alone. I think you might be a companion de voyage. You and everyone else, including God’s very own people:

“We're certainly warned about forgetfulness in Scripture, both in word and by example. In the Old Testament, the pattern is so predictable, we come to expect it. God delivers his people from the cruel whips of Egypt by a stunning display of his power and his care-the plagues, the Passover, the Red Sea. The Israelites celebrate with singing and dancing. Three days later, they are complaining about the water supply. God provides sweet water from the bitter desert springs of Marah. They complain about the food. God drops breakfast out of the sky, every morning. Then it's the water again. God provides it from a rock. Enemies attack; God delivers. On and on it goes, for forty years. As they stand on the brink of the Promised Land, God issues a final warning:



Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live. (Deut. 4:9,emphasis added)



They do, of course, let it slip from their hearts. All of it. This becomes the pattern for the entire history of Israel. God shows up; he does amazing things; the people rejoice. Then they forget and go whoring after other gods. They fall under calamity and cry out for deliverance. God shows up; he does amazing things; the people rejoice-you get the picture. Things aren't changed much in the New Testament, but the contrast is greater, and the stakes are even higher. God shows up in person, and before he leaves, he gives us the sacraments along with this plea: Do this to remember me. They don't- remember him, that is. Do we really think we are any different?”

(John Eldridge, Desire , 2000)

So I’ve resolved to do what this 59 year old swiss cheese mind can do to staunch the flow of memories on their outbound express train. I’ve taken up scripture memory as a discipline. I hope God will honor His Word as I house more of it in my noggin. Thus far Deuteronomy 8, Isaiah 58, and now Romans 7:15-8, all from the Message, are making little creases in my brain, causing tiny synapses to fire familiarly. Getting embodied in my actions more and more. Thank God for His Spirit enabling and impelling.

On a different sort of note, our house is in escrow—after 15 months on the market! We have a hope that it will close later this month, perhaps within 3 weeks, and we will be on our way toward the east coast, then to the UK for a time of sabbatical, and then to wherever He leads us overseas as missionaries under www.interserveusa.org. We are thankful. Pray with us that this escrow will in fact close and we can be about our Father’s business in more needy places of our planet. Thank you, Lord, and thank you, my reader.

Hot Box Trio

        The other day I was in one of my favorite places, the sauna. Sweating peacefully. Had my ears on, listening to my favs shuffling around in the ipod. Minding my own business. One portly young lady, with a wrestling sweat shirt on, fiddled with her phone, a couple of middle aged black men all buffed out hee-hawing about this n that. Typical sweat scene.

After one of the black guyes left, I heard the other asking Ms Portly what she was doing:

“trying to dial up my music, but something’s broken.”

“oh, you like music?”

“yep, I sang the national anthem the other week at a football stadium.”

“really? Let’s hear it.”

“ahhh, no…., I just sing in front of crowds, not real people.”

Meanwhile I’m evesdropping.  Look at the lady wrestler.  I turn off my ears. Pull that plug.

Chime in, “if he and I start, would you join us?”

He nods up and down, “yup, we dad types can sing too.”

I start, “ohhh, say, can you see……” he joins me. Ms Wrestler’s eyes are getting bigger, like, “they are doing this for real….” She joins, softly, wavering a little with doubtful vibrato. He and I pick up the volume. She gains strength. We start to harmonize, different parts.

When the bombs were bursting in air we were really all belting it out. Laughing like hyenas at the end. Congratulating each other, “we were great!” yep, says me,

“Let’s take our act on the road. We be The Hot Box Trio.”

  Solo wrestlers need encouraging jump starts, even when they don't know when or how to ask.