17 Pairs of Shoes

Zaca-left, Edmund-top right, Emerson-bottom right

El Salvador, Boy's Home, 2007.

Do you ever just want God to tell you what to do with your life? So often we pray and sit around asking God for the manual on how to live as Christians. As if we want him to spell everything out for us from whom, where, when, what, how. An exact blue-print of sorts. 

He has. 

Its called the Holy Bible. 

But it is a radical call. 

A call that insults my self-preserving, comfortable, controlled existence. A call that is far from grey. A call that exploits the true intentions of choice as selfish. 

You see I have this really intimate love hate relationship with choice. 

I like that I can choose from 5 grocery stores in a 10 mile radius from my home. I like that I can choose which brand of jeans I wear. I like that I can go to Target and walk out with tools, furniture, paper, shampoo, and bananas. This is choice. I have never lived in a culture where I did not have choices. 

All I have known is plenty. 

But plenty often leaves me empty. 

And empty keeps me coming back for more. And as I keep myself distracted by this imposter of freedom called choice it makes me believe I can treat Christianity the same way. Don't get me wrong I serve an extravagant God whose heart is generous and loving. 

I mean, He released us for the sake of choice. For the sake of love.  

But I think somewhere between the average American woman owning 17 pairs of shoes and spending 399 hours a year shopping, we have replaced the Radical Call with Choice.  

Whenever I need to be reminded of what to do with my life. I turn to Jesus' words to his disciples about The Final Judgement. 

Its pretty simple. This thing called Christianity. 

I guess its just a choice. 

There's plenty of people in the world who don't live in a culture of choice. 

I am reminded of the orphans (above) in El Salvador. They are beautiful, huh? 

I think it requires a couple things.  

Open Arms.

A lot of Love. 

 Time. 

Matthew 25:31-40.

"When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne. Before him will be gathered all the nations, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. And he will place the sheep on his right, but the goats on the left. Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying ‘Lord ,when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’"

Otium Sanctum

Guerneville, Healdsburg, Jenner-Sonoma County. 

Jenner, San Francisco, Alexander Valley. 

My backyard, San Francisco, Balboa Park.  

During this season of waiting I have been afforded the gift of time. As I have been confronted with such lavish freedom between completing nursing school and finding work, many realities have convicted my spirit about the culture I live in and its influences on spirituality. 

1st, We live in the 21st century where being busy is the norm. Richard Foster describes busyness as one of Satan's greatest schemes in distracting us from God, ourselves, and the things that really matter. 

2nd, In the Western World and sadly within the Evangelical Church we do not value being a people of spiritual discipline. Some how a Sunday church service and signing up as a greeter or teaching Sunday school has replaced practicing spiritual disciplines. I am speaking of Mediation. Prayer. Fasting. We can look in the gospels and SEE the life of Jesus built upon these spiritual disciplines. The theme of him retreating, seeking solitude, waiting on the Father is central to his ministry on earth. And early in the morning, while it was still dark, He arose and went out and departed to a lonely place, and was praying there-Mark 1:35. 

3rd, Social Media has replaced living intentionally. Being in the moment with others, with the environment, with ourselves, and with God. I fall short of this often. Which is why the Holy Spirit has convicted me and why I began reading Richard Fosters, Celebration of Discipline.  Satan has flooded our 21st century culture-invading the minds, hearts, eyes, and bodies of Gods people-by creating an appetite for constant stimulation, noise, and busyness. Its no wonder why pornography is destroying marriages, relationships, and chivalry. Matthew 6:22 Jesus says, The eye is the lamp of the body. If the eye is healthy then the body is full of light. We have traded the ancient arts of spiritual discipline (which Foster says positions us towards God) with the superficial and empty existence Satan offers through the world.  So I ask, How am I being set a part? 

4th, Otium Sanctum also known as "Holy Leisure". Foster proposes is the way of changing the culture. "It refers to a sense of balance in life, an ability to be at peace through the activities of the day, an ability to rest and take time to enjoy beauty, an ability to pace ourselves." I often like to capture the world around me through a lens. It helps me see beauty. Stop. Breathe. I have also been contemplating the disciplines of the Eastern world, particularly meditation. Transcendental Meditation aims to empty and detach self entirely from the world. Foster describes meditation, as an emptying of self and an attaching to God, Spirit, and Son. I have been practicing meditation by setting a timer for 5 and 10 minute increments (for now). Foster describes several types of meditation:

1. "Palms Down" and "Palms Up": When your palms are down you empty yourself. "Lord, I give you my fear about being a new nurse, not knowing anything, feeling stupid." When your palms are up you receive: "Lord fill me with peace and confidence as a new nurse." 

2. "Exhale" and "Inhale": This essentially is the same as the above form. In the exhale you release to God and in the inhale you receive to fill what is lacking/replace what is not of Gods kingdom.   

3. Meditatio Scripturarum: Choose a scripture and ask the spirit to have it become living in you, through exegesis, internalizing and personalizing the passage, and experiencing it with your senses (as if you were there).

4. Choose something in creation: tree, ocean, water, leaf and carefully ponder it. God uses His creation to show us something of His glory and can speaks to us through that form of creation. 

5. You and Him: Picture God and you, together. Picture the Spirit dwelling in you. Picture you and Jesus, eye to eye. Where are you? What is he saying to you? How does He feel about you?   

Romans 12:2 says, Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect. I believe meditation can be an avenue in which we posture our heart, mind, and body towards God. And then HE can work in us. Foster says, "The path of "spiritual disciplines" does not produce the change; it only puts us in the place where the change can occur." I like this because it takes the legalism and righteousness out of the discipline. Therefore it is not the act of meditation or prayer or fasting that makes us holy, pure, righteous but it is the act/working of the Spirit of God in us.  

Joanie Elizabeth Paine's Memorial

O death, where is your sting? 

O death, where is your victory? 

Thanks be to God who gives us the victory 

through our Lord Jesus Christ-1 Cor 15:55

Our little oak of righteousness 

We will always remember

Hands wide open

Maple Tree
The Lord is my rock and my fortress Ps 18:2

Ascending upon the mountain ridge we never imagined this day would come. The day we would hold our babies ashes. Tears falling. Streaming down a sun beamed face. The city of Los Angeles stretching for miles as the aftermath of the storm opened the skies. The pain of losing Joanie opening the fresh wound in my heart. We didn’t know how to do this. There was no manual. No bible story to follow. Just two young broken hearts retracing are steps 3 months earlier.

A backpack. A maple tree. An oak tree. A shovel and water. The slamming of doors and the laughter of strangers as they discovered the trailhead. Juxtaposed with the sacredness of a bronzed leaf urn hidden away in my sweatshirt. Fighting back the tears. Hands pressing against the treasure inside. Descending into the valley, rays of sunshine leading the way. Reflections of oak trees upon the overflowing creek. Sun kissed rocks. Last of falls maple leaves. The glory of creation beaming with praise. I knew this day she was beaming down upon us.

Shuffling up the muddy mountainside a patch scattered with fallen oak leaves. The heavy-laden soil saturated from the storm.  The ground quickly peeled back a perfect place to plant the oak tree. Scattering ashes at its roots, she would always be our little oak of righteousness. Speaking forth all her beauty and goodness. Declaring the name of Joanie Elizabeth Paine upon the mountainside. Hands held high giving praise to our God. All was still. All was silent. But the storm in our hearts.

Descending farther into the valley. Crossing creeks and stepping-stones. The maple tree would need to be near water and direct sunlight. Perched upon a rock, a tree awaiting its adornment. Vibrant red maples like the one I found the day after I held Joanie.  We would wait with anticipation to come back, to behold its beauty. Just as we wait to behold her beauty, adorned in the light of the Father. 

Making an oath unto God. We would live with hands wide open and would dedicate every one of our children unto Him. Emptying the urn, her ashes falling into the soil. She would become far more than anything we as mortal humans could attain here on earth. Michael prayed she would become all she was made for, bearing much fruit like the tree of life-

Revelation 22:1 Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city, also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.  

The Memorial 

Later that same day we joined together with dear loved ones. Gathering in a friend’s backyard we braved the chill of the late afternoon wind. Heavy hearts entangled with sorrow and joy. Michael said he wanted this days purpose to hold two things. To honor Joanie and to praise God. We did both whole-heartedly. I could not have asked God for a more precious memorial

Trembling from the inside out I stood up to share the letter I had written for Joanie. I didn’t know if I could get through it but Michael came and wrapped his arms around me. Giving me courage to press through the tears. He also shared something he had written and it goes like so... 

Twirling, like a wound rope unwinding, yet unpredictable, going left, then right, forward then backwards. Hopelessly trying to stop the flight in the cage of my hands. I was a boy of ten years then waiting for the dinner bell to ring as I keenly kept my eyes locked on the slender silhouettes of Eucalyptus leaves against the canvas of the darkening dusky sky. To catch one was a joy, a challenge conquered, a skill mastered, a competition won. It was a game a naive country boy would play.

Driving home on the eve of December down Tigertail Drive laden with hues of yellow, orange, and red from the Sycamores, Maples, and Amber tees that line the street. It hit me. The metaphor of a fallen leaf. You had just fallen Joanie. We were returning form the Doctors office that early evening where we had seen your heart beat so definately beat no more. This idea, this metaphor of a leaf kept reappearing, from teh day we gathered leaves in Chantry Flats to the symbol placed on your hospital room door. I guess its the brief nature and radiant color of a fallen leaf that stirs us, that enlightens our soul. Much like a falling star slicing through the darkness. Glorious and miraculous on one hand, yet cut short, leaving us wanting.

Wanting to see the sparkle of your mothers eyes in you. Wanting to have you fall asleep on my chest. Wanting to kiss you goodnight every precious evening I would have with you. But your Heavenly Father wanted you to miss the winter chill of sins effects and bring you into His eternal summer.

Little did I know as a boy catching Eucalyptus leaves that I would catch the most precious leaf of all. Falling from your mother's womb into my hands you were the grace of God. You were and are Joanie. HOlding you, ripped open the dam of dreams and desires that had been swelling for you. They spilled out as tears over you, just as our Father's tears showered upon us. His promises secured by his blood and tears watered our broken hearts; never leaving nor forsaking us, being the God of all comfort having walked through all that we encounter, that death has no victory. And giving us hope, for we know Joanie, that as your body lay as a fallen leaf in our arms, the leaves of the tree of life that are for the healing of the nations, would restore you as well.