A disciplined dance

Dear God,
This is Kelley.

My discipline leaves a lot to be desired. I'm supposed to be exercising every day because of my osteoarthritis. Well, I don't. Tom got me a trumpet for Christmas, my favorite instrument, but because I don't sound like Winton Marsalis, I'm not practicing regularly. There's that book I need to read, and that one I need to write. And then there's money and sticking to a budget... Argh.

Are You concerned about this kind of thing, Lord? Well, pain does result from my not doing these things -- I probably cause more pain when practicing the trumpet, but as far as exercising and writing and money goes, frustration and pain does result when I don't practice discipline. But, Lord, I hate schedules. I hate particulars. I love to dance, jump on the spur of the moment, get what I see for so and so, go play for a bit, and be creative, celebratory, fun, and expressive. I am right-brain walking!

Discipline to me is an ugly word. But that's not true, and I need to change my thinking. How, Lord?

My body is a temple for You, and for me to not treat it as I've been told, as I know will result in health, is wrong, and may even be sinful, yes, Lord?

For me to not pay close attention to budgets and money issues is also wrong -- even if I work hard and spend what I think is a small amount, if it hurts our bottom line, then it, too, is wrong, and perhaps sinful.

"Whoever loves discipline loves knowledge, but he who hates correction is stupid." (Proverbs 12:1)

Geez. Lord.

"He who heeds discipline shows the way to life, but whoever ignores correction leads others astray." (Proverbs 10:17)
I do want to be a good example, Lord, for my kids and for others. Give me grace. Remind me to look at the end result and know that end is being accomplished with each step of discipline I take. Discipline brings harmony and harmony allows the best kind of dancing.

Fully ignited

Dear God,
This is Kelley.

You say through the prophet Amos, "Seek me, that you may live." (5:4; NAB). Plenty of people are living --and seem to be living -- just fine without seeking You. What do You mean by this?

Is living without You like inhabiting a mansion and living only in part of it, some rooms off limits and darkened? Since our bodies are Your temples, is there something our bodies could even do with You that we cannot without You? And our minds, Lord, what part do You play in their development, and what is lacking when we limit Your role?

The differences aren't all that obvious, Lord. I see him and he seems just fine without You. He's found a truth in Buddhism, quite an impersonal force, but his discipline is striking. And look at her; she, too, seems to be just fine without You. Her work ethic is strong, and she cares for others deeply. Are You there in them, Your true identity concealed? Have they found You in some part, and a rose by any other name is still a rose?

There are some, Lord, who say if they do not profess Your name, they will not be saved. What I know of love does not profess this. If these would never do harm to another, if these love and give, then it does not make sense that they would be tossed aside because they did not run into an expression of You that caught them. Is that their fault or the fault of us Christians who are doing the evangelizing?

Oh, Lord, what kind of evangelizing are we doing? We who lack discipline and are more prone to point at and condemn than we are to reach out and accept. We who are Your hands, Your mouth, Your feet, Your heart while we remain in our narrow view of things -- what, who are we giving witness to?

Rouse us, Lord, in these deeper things. I want to know what Your presence within us does -- I want to know what it can do. May we remove any obstacles we put on You and allow You free reign within! May we all get to see what a human being fully ignited by You looks like and sounds like. And may we realize, then, that we can be that way, too.

"Seek me, that you may live."

Help my lack of trust

Dear God,
This is Kelley.

A friend gave me a book of daily meditations. I forget to read it every day, but yesterday's meditation I did read. In part it says, "At some point in your growing friendship with God, you come to discover a staggering sense of power in prayer." (Alone in God's Presence, Summerside Press)

I know this staggering sense of power. I have been caught up in it. I have come close and felt Your presence; I've been knocked to my knees at Your concern and overwhelming love. But, Lord, I have also withdrawn from You because of a darkness that still exists within me.

There were times in my life, Lord, when I begged You to change my situation, and You did not. There was turmoil and agony that lasted not just for days or weeks or even months, but for years, Lord. And my immature mind attributed to You the same traits I saw in those who caused my agony: You have need of power and control, and You must impress that need upon us by making us wait until we almost break before You will issue a saving hand. This is ugly, Lord, yes, and I am sorry this exists in my mind, but I understand its origin. Now, how do I remove it from You?

This darkness does not enter my daily prayer most of the time. It rears its head only when I come to You in pain, wanting something deeply from Your hand. That is when it comes and nearly forces me to whisper my prayer, push it under the door of Your notice and run away, battling the thoughts that intrude -- He won't answer; He'll make you wait; He'll make you beg. And all the while what I know of You tries to ease these remarks and replace them with truth.

Just this realization will help a great deal, won't it, Lord? Thank You for this. I have known this for years, but I have never spelled it out like this. This takes away a lot of this darkness's power. This is a trust issue, and I know I can trust You. I trust You, Almighty God. Help my lack of trust.

Right here, right now

Dear God,
This is Kelley.

I was reading the lyrics to a song when I noticed a hesitancy in me. The hesitancy came to mind when I read the third line:

O breathe on me, O breath of God,
until my heart is pure;
until my will is one with Yours,
to do and to endure.

I've felt this hesitancy before, Lord; what is it? The image I get is of me holding onto You but also digging in my heels, not wanting to go the speed the You're going or perhaps the place You're going. Where do I think You're going? What do I think You're going to ask of me? And why do I think it is always going to be giving up food or coffee? Is that common? Do most people fear You will ask of them what they like the most? Or, is it that You will ask of us what we put too much value in, what we comfort ourselves with, so that You become our comfort, our value?

This digging in of my heels is strange, Lord, because I don't know Your will in detail, so why would I be hesitant? I'm anxious to see! I want to know it! I want to grab it with all I have and put all I am into it. But, why is it that I never see where I am right now as Your will? Your will is always something in the future, something You will bring me to eventually. Why do I not see right now as Your will?

It is, isn't it, Lord? Right here. Right now. My church. My work. My home. My children. My husband. My friends. These are Your will. And I am pouring all I am into it. So perhaps this hesitancy is a reminder to stop looking forward, stop straining to see ahead and just stay right here, doing what I'm doing, trying to do it better ... for You.

This is Your will.