Lately I have been thinking that our minds are troubled because we don't keep pace with the universe. Our lives on Earth are short -- 70 or 80 years -- but eternity is long. God lives on an entirely different scale of time; he takes the long view, and we rarely do. But what if we could train ourselves to enter God time, to breathe with him?
A whale's heart beats an average of six beats per minute, and its breaths per minute is about the same. But a hummingbird's heart beats over 1200 times per minute, and in that time it takes 250 breaths. I think we are a lot like hummingbirds.
Toward the end of the movie Signs, a young boy is having an asthma attack, but he is unable to get to his inhaler, because he and his family are stuck down in the basement of their house while terrifying aliens wander around upstairs. Eventually the father is able to help his son through the asthma attack by holding him and saying, "Breathe with me."
When we are freaking out, worrying that things will never turn out, sometimes I think we need to stop and breathe with God. By reminding ourselves that circumstances don't have to meet our demands and life doesn't have to go at the pace we think it should, we can enter God time. All our fretting and frantic demands won't change anything. Listening for God's slow, deep heartbeat can remind us that he loves us. And breathing with him can remind us to slow down, to recognize our frenetic pace, to trust that God is working things out just as he has promised he would. He breathes more slowly than you and me. We want fast but he works slow. When we learn to breathe with him, we can live in peace.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Thursday, October 8, 2015
Come to Me
Three simple words. I say a variation of them (come here) to my youngest many times a day. I say it when he is upset and needs to calm down. I say it when he needs a hug. I say it when he is acting up and needs to listen and learn. I say it when he is approaching danger. Come here. It carries a slight different meaning depending on the situation, and my tone usually reflects that, but at its root it always means I am here for you. Let me help you.
The good news is that God is always and forever saying the same thing to us: Come here. Come to me. His tone may differ too, depending on our circumstances and what is keeping us away, but he is always and forever holding out his hands to us and saying, "Come to me."
Come when you are grieving.
Come when you are depressed.
Come when you are drinking too much.
Come when you are angry.
Come when you hate yourself.
Come when you hate your mom, your kids, your sister, your friend.
Come when you are hungover.
Come when you are eating too much.
Come when you want to hurt yourself.
Come when you have burned your bridges.
Come when you are trying to control others.
Come when you are failing a class.
Come when you are thinking about texting your dealer.
Come when you have betrayed your spouse, your friend, your brother.
Come when you have no one else to go to.
Come when you are desperate.
Come when you are in debt.
Come when you are sad.
Come to me.
When kids are little, many issues can be resolved with a hug and a snuggle. You disobeyed me? Let's talk about it while I hold you. Someone at school hurt your feelings? Let me hold you. You're angry and frustrated? Sit with me and tell me about it. Physical closeness fosters emotional closeness and keeps little ones safe, in many ways. When kids get older, that physical closeness wanes, and sometimes the emotional closeness does too. In the space between, things spring up that appear to be in the way of regaining that closeness. This happens between us and God too.
But God goes the whole way for us. He has closed the gap. Turn your head. He is right there.
Turn to him in your depression. Come to him in your failures, betrayals, loneliness, and losses. There is no disqualification. That's why the pharisees hated Jesus so much. They were more interested in seeing people disqualified than connected.
My youngest did something wrong the other day--the kind of thing that requires a lot of teaching and correction. But before any of that, I just wanted to hold him, to let him know it was safe to tell me, to let him know that the connection between us is stronger than mistakes or bad choices.
Come to me, God says. It's an always and forever invitation, and we don't have to do anything or fix anything before we show up.
The good news is that God is always and forever saying the same thing to us: Come here. Come to me. His tone may differ too, depending on our circumstances and what is keeping us away, but he is always and forever holding out his hands to us and saying, "Come to me."
Come when you are grieving.
Come when you are depressed.
Come when you are drinking too much.
Come when you are angry.
Come when you hate yourself.
Come when you hate your mom, your kids, your sister, your friend.
Come when you are hungover.
Come when you are eating too much.
Come when you want to hurt yourself.
Come when you have burned your bridges.
Come when you are trying to control others.
Come when you are failing a class.
Come when you are thinking about texting your dealer.
Come when you have betrayed your spouse, your friend, your brother.
Come when you have no one else to go to.
Come when you are desperate.
Come when you are in debt.
Come when you are sad.
Come to me.
When kids are little, many issues can be resolved with a hug and a snuggle. You disobeyed me? Let's talk about it while I hold you. Someone at school hurt your feelings? Let me hold you. You're angry and frustrated? Sit with me and tell me about it. Physical closeness fosters emotional closeness and keeps little ones safe, in many ways. When kids get older, that physical closeness wanes, and sometimes the emotional closeness does too. In the space between, things spring up that appear to be in the way of regaining that closeness. This happens between us and God too.
But God goes the whole way for us. He has closed the gap. Turn your head. He is right there.
Turn to him in your depression. Come to him in your failures, betrayals, loneliness, and losses. There is no disqualification. That's why the pharisees hated Jesus so much. They were more interested in seeing people disqualified than connected.
My youngest did something wrong the other day--the kind of thing that requires a lot of teaching and correction. But before any of that, I just wanted to hold him, to let him know it was safe to tell me, to let him know that the connection between us is stronger than mistakes or bad choices.
Come to me, God says. It's an always and forever invitation, and we don't have to do anything or fix anything before we show up.
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