We start skiing on the green runs.
We start working on our marriage by successfully applying two nonsense words to our marriages. But you are ready for the blue runs, the intermediate terrain. One blue ski run (or intermediate acronym) for the daring only is:
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Just because the battle of [insert famous battle name here – I’m not a Historian, ok?] was lost, doesn’t mean those soldiers lost the war too!
The same is true in the war that many in our culture are fighting to open our eyes to the reality that climate change is real.
We’ve lost a battle or two, granted.
For example, consider the implementation of climate solutions and the recent US election. I am not a Harris supporter by any stretch of the imagination. (Also, I’m Canadian, so no one cares who I would have voted for. AND, it’s much easier to criticize leaders trying to create positive change than to come up with real solutions that work!)
The point is that we lost another battle in the war against recognizing that climate change is even a “thing” with the election win of Mr. Trump.
But just because climate change has lost another battle, that doesn’t mean we have lost the war in finding a solution to our climate woes – Not by any stretch.
It is time to close the chapter in the book “Let’s talk about climate change rationally, using science.”
Instead, let’s focus on applying and implementing this one solution.
Let’s focus on food.
No, I did not leave my rationale mind over there as I wrote this post over here.
Stay with me.
In Paul Hawken’s book “Regeneration: Ending the Climate Crisis in One Generation,” there is surprising hope in implementing Regenerative Agriculture.
Don’t have time to read?
Check out this free movie, Kiss the Ground Film | Official Website
A Hollywood Actor narrates the movie, so that’s how we know it is the truth!
Just kidding – There is LOTS of science here and a growing movement.
“Kiss the Ground is an audience-supported nonprofit promoting regeneration and healthy soil as a viable solution for our wellness, water, and climate crisis. Since 2013, we’ve inspired millions to participate in the Regenerative Movement through storytelling, education and partnerships.”
Oh, and another benefit – when you put less poison in the form of hyper-processed foods into your body and recognize food ITSELF is healing, you’ll probably feel a lot better, too!
There is a movement of people who have started to be accidentally healed of various modern ailments through eating healthier foods, but we’ll talk about that another time.
Oh, and we can avert the climate crisis once this movement snowballs, too, without mentioning the term “climate change.”
The thing is (whisper):
God has a solution to EVERY problem we see in our world.
We have hope! Let’s dance! No problem is too big for our God.
As the song below plays, ask God, “Has my hope been reduced to the size of politics or the problems in my life and our world? Forgive me. Would You help me place my hope in the One who is bigger than every problem?”
“If . . . my people, my God-defined people, respond by humbling themselves, praying, seeking my presence, and turning their backs on their wicked lives, I’ll be there ready for you: I’ll listen from heaven, forgive their sins, and restore their land to health. From now on I’m alert day and night to the prayers offered . . . “
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She’s a good friend.
I met her doing something we both loved – a downhill ski trip at University. We became fast friends, singing loudly, goofing off, and obnoxiously yelling at those below as we rode the chairlift that weekend. In the evening, over hot chocolate and quiet talks, there were many similarities in the hurts we had experienced, the focus of our lives, and the path our futures were leading us toward.
It seems God had brought us together and blessed our friendship with a small piece of His love that we could offer each other.
And so the friendship grew.
And then came the bomb
It landed beside the little plant God was nurturing, our friendship. The blast ripped bits of the plant, and oh, the pain! The pain in God’s heart was unbearable, breaking His heart too.
And oh!
How God mourned! He mourned for the future leaves and blossoms and roots that this little plant hadn’t yet had time to grow. He mourned for the hungry people who would come to this little plant looking for the fruit it was to grow to satisfy their hunger pains.
He mourned that instead of refreshing juicy fruit that would strengthen them, they would find only a withered, dry plant – a few leaves and a twig.
And oh, how the heart of God aches when friendships are spoiled!
We sat nearby, watching, startled at His suffering. Our hearts felt only indignation towards the other. And God tore his shirt, as the ancients did in a time of great mourning, His outer garment reflecting the state of His heart, broken.
Our sin was ripping the little plant apart, threatening its very survival.
Wounded!
“How can I show My love to this world,” He asks sorrowfully, “when My people don’t dwell together in unity? How can those hungry, sick souls taste love when you don’t give and receive it to and from each other?” He rocks back and forth in lament.
“How can My world be beautiful like a garden when the flowers of friendship and love among My people, a people called by My name, do not grow? How can others find their way to My heart by following a path of beauty if no beauty is found among my chosen flowers? How can you live without love?” He pleads
And so we, too, finally catching the Father’s heart in our own, rend our clothes and rock back and forth in the ancient posture of lament.
How have I allowed sin to hold back the growth in the relationships He has gifted me?
And so we run to our lost friend, like the Father of the prodigal son to his lost child.
When he was still a long way off, his father saw [his son]. His heart pounding, he ran out, embraced him, and kissed him.
We offer our hearts to our distant friend, like the cold elder brother finally offering love to his Father.
His father said, ‘Son, you don’t understand. You’re with me all the time, and everything that is mine is yours . . . ”
Together, we friends lift our hearts to God, broken and damaged. We come together, limping and wounded, from the damage we caused each other to our heavenly Father, and we ask for the oil of healing* for us and our friend.
And He is pleased.
The cost of a thing is the amount of what I will call life that is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run.
And the plant now mending* and with roots twisting together in love, can face any storm. And the fruit is only a matter of time.
So let’s not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good. At the right time we will harvest a good crop if we don’t give up, or quit. Right now, therefore, every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in the community of faith.
Footnotes
*Examples of God pouring oil of healing over us as individuals and as relational creatures are discussed here and in future posts.
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We were preparing our family to go skiing for the first time this year.
Only two people had mini meltdowns. Yes, one of them was an adult. Frustration levels were rising as we tried to find all our ski stuff for everyone.
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When we were newly married, my husband left his shoes on the floor instead of the shoe rack, and I tripped on them.
When I tripped on them again, I politely asked him not to do this anymore.
Then I cried and hoped tears would implore him to put his shoes away after taking them off, a life lesson that was perhaps taught on a day he was absent from Kindergarten, so he never learned, even 45 years later.
Manipulative, imploring tears didn’t work either.
I tried anger, and nope – Nothing.
It looks like this one bad habit came WITH my husband, and so we fudged along, as couples who have been married for a long time do, until even this habit became “cute.”
Until it wasn’t.
After I broke my ankle, and for some reason, the “leaving shoes/ slippers” in the middle of where I am walking seemed to get a steroid hit. I found myself tripping over my husband’s shoes multiple times a day. So, I did the only rational thing a rational person WOULD do in this situation!
I began throwing his shoes outside.
However, this wasn’t the magic bean solution I had hoped for.
(Did I mention that I offer marriage advice as well?*)
And why, you are asking, are you airing your dirty shoe laundry ALL OVER the internet? Good question. It’s because of what happened next.
I poured out my poor, misunderstood heart (She didn’t QUITE have those words to describe me, though – Why not?) to a friend.
And she’s a great friend.
The kind who may even kick you in the rear once or twice, and your life often starts looking up after the pain.
Here is what she said the following week, “Lori, I’ve finally figured out the solution to your shoe problem!” she began excitedly.
We found a quieter corner of the church so she could impart her wisdom.
“Every time you stoop to pick up shoes and put them on the shoe rack, this is an opportunity for you!”
“Huh?” I asked, confused, remembering how my blood boils in righteous indignation at the sight of misplaced shoes.
“Yes,” she continued. “You can pray for where his feet go, and that the souls of his walking will be soft, and that God will lead his feet to travel wherever He wills for him and . . .” She was gushing now. “And I’ve calculated how long this will take you. It will be about 3 minutes of your day.”
She was right, of course.
And after the bruise on my butt heals where she kicked me, I think things are looking up in our marriage, too!
She gave me some INCREDIBLE, UNIQUE advice I could NEVER have figured out on my own!
And that’s why we need a community that loves us.
Because after the pain comes the healing.
If you reason with an arrogant cynic, you’ll get slapped in the face;
confront bad behavior and get a kick in the shins.
So don’t waste your time on a scoffer . . .
Save your breath for the wise—they’ll be wiser for it.
Recent update on this situation: After this conversation with my friend, I asked God what to do about this situation. (Novel idea!) I envisioned my husband and I discussing this situation over a glass of wine, dinner, and a date.
On the date, he saw things in a new light – It seems my rational mouth spoke more forcefully than throwing his stuff outside.
The following week, he said, “Darn! I didn’t put my shoes away!” and ran to get them before I got to the front door.
“Darn! I lost my opportunity to pray for your feet!” I said, watching him put away his shoes instead of me.
God’s way is better. God is good. To Him be praised.
(And let’s thank God for a whack from a friend, too.)
Need a whack?
Reach out anytime!
You’re welcome!
Good luck!
Footnotes
*More marriage advice is coming in tomorrow’s post!
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I know why you couldn’t sleep last night, tossing and turning.
I know why you are looking at me wide-eyed and wondering how you can live your life authentically.
I didn’t publish a blog post last Friday like I usually do, and THEREFORE, your normal rhythms for coping through life have been disrupted because I didn’t tell you how to live your life this weekend!
But first, I will explain why I didn’t write a blog post.
It was because I was busy. What was I doing? Remember in this blog post when I mentioned that our Pastor is a crazy nutcase because he travels to politically volatile places?
The places he visits for a fun vacation are some of the poorest countries on earth, riddled with civil war, genocide and other stuff we don’t like to think about because we need to get to Walmart and back before the ball game starts and if we think about other stuff, we may forget to buy all the snacks we need for the game. We all have a lot of things going on and to think about already – Thank you very much!
Anyway, while we were busy cleaning out our garage last week, I suddenly thought, “Why not join our Pastor on one of these trips to an unstable country?”
So, that’s why I didn’t write a blog post. Our Pastors had to talk me off the window ledge of my fear to jump into the unknown*. Should we go to the place where the worst day there is EVEN WORSE than my worst day, for example?
When I researched one of these countries, it seemed EVEN MORE DANGEROUS than our family vacation to Disneyland last year!
During that vacation, we got stranded in a shady area of Los Angeles, and no Ubers came because it was the night of the Oscars and they were busy driving celebrities. Luckily, an LA city bus driver held the bus and waited for us for 20 minutes until we could connect with another ride because the bus driver didn’t want us left alone there (How sweet!). So don’t worry, Mom! (She reads this blog.)
And so, what is the simple life hack to losing fear?
Find someone who is doing something stupid, and mindlessly follow them!
Since you are doing something scary, you no longer have to fear your fear!
So, our motto this weekend is:
Another helpful thought for you to mull over as you continue to ponder this topic of losing fear is to consider the second reason why I didn’t write a blog post this weekend. It was because I spent many hours binge-watching a new historical period drama this weekend. So, another motto for this weekend is:
Choose your motto with whichever one fits best, and remember to read every blog post so I can help you live your life more authentically!
P.S. – There’s probably a third motto for how to shake fear and live authentically, but I haven’t figured that one out yet.
You’re welcome!
Good luck!
Footnotes
*There is not civil war in that country right now, as there was when these events happened to Chrissy Chapman, so it’s likely not quite as unsafe as I’m pretending it is, but stay with me for the emotional effects of this blogpost that I’m trying to create.
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She was a shell. She was skinny, sickly, and often lost in her little world.
Her stomach racked her in pain. Friends were elusive. She was unhappy, never having exploded in childhood giggles that should have been her right.
My husband and I oscillated between worry and confidence that she would grow out of “this.” One of us, either he or I, carried the ball of fear for this child. The ball never went away.
Occupational and physical therapists dribbled through our home – in and out – like a constant stream, reminding us that something wasn’t quite “right.” The ball of concern for our child, which we took turns carrying, grew heavier.
Doctors punctuated our lives.
An exclamation point with a specialist doctor in September. A question mark with that prominent city specialist who visited in April. The regular full stops of our home doctor, where “many” childhood milestones were missed, again, were a part of the regular background noise.
The cloud of “something” felt suffocating.
It was hard to breathe.
And doctors get so concerned nowadays. Our other daughter was told she “might” have a problem detectable only by modern medicine (pulmonary stenosis!), and yet that asymptomatic “problem” mysteriously resolved itself only a few years later.
“Would the same thing happen with this other daughter?” I wondered on the days when my husband carried our ball of worry.
And then it happened.
God’s voice was carried by the wind of the Spirit that day as I chatted with a friend about her struggling child.
“Try it.”
What now? I looked around, wondering if I had heard right. My heart sensed my Father’s love for me and my daughter as He spoke. Was I imagining things, though?
“Could you repeat that?” I asked
Nothing. Stillness. Quiet.
Had I heard correctly?
I had been learning that God speaks when we remember to attach our spiritual ears. I bent down to look for my spiritual ears which seemed to have fallen off again. Had He spoken?
At the moment that I wondered if God was nudging me, my good friend had been talking about a special diet – Yes, a special diet – that she was preparing for her son, who had developmental delays.
Diet?
But that’s not what the specialists EVER recommended!
But that was what was working for him. I felt God was asking me to try this same approach. Would I obey?
And so, how are we led on God’s specific, chosen path for our lives and families that usher in His healing?
That’s it.
And oh – our daughter was healed. But that’s a story for another time.
By faith, Noah built a ship in the middle of dry land. He was warned about something he couldn’t see, and acted on what he was told. . . . As a result, Noah became intimate with God.
An additional fun result of following Jesus where He leads is buried within the quote above if our eyes are open – Intimacy with God! Wow.
As the song below plays, ask Holy Spirit, “What is the ONE NEXT step, or person you want me to ask advice from, regarding this problem in my life that is literally burning a hole in my gut?”
God:
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Previously, we talked about the fear that sometimes descends over our culture like an unwelcome blanket, smothering us. And yet, we cling to our fear as a self-soothing exercise. We are used to it
How do we throw away the fear that always seems to linger on our hands, like unwanted gum we are trying to put in the trash?
We can’t entirely eradicate fear.
The reality is that we are tiny little people, and who knows? A comet may arrive in ten minutes, throwing us into another ice age like it did for the dinosaurs. Then we’re hooped!
But this, ironically, like all my best advice, is where we find some of our hope.
What if we didn’t fear “death” (I said THE word!) QUITE so very much?
It is the denial of death that is partially responsible for people living empty, purposeless lives
This one fear, the fear of death, instead of being a blanket that twists itself around our neck, strangling us, is the one fear that can ultimately comfort us.
For example, it doesn’t matter to me whether I get two likes or one like on a post (No, that wasn’t 2,000 likes or 1,000 likes – Why do you ask?) when I remember that one day, I will die.
So, one of the best ways to eliminate a bunch of our lingering fears, it turns out, is to confront the biggest, most terrifying fear looming in our bellies’ most bottomless pit.
It’s to confront our mortality.
So, how do we recognize our mortality, though we (kind of) don’t want to?
When we realize that we are resting in the palm of our Saviour’s hand and that His love is the warm blanket that comforts us, we find we can sleep a bit easier, and this life is a little easier to live.
But what if we’re having trouble grasping hold of God as we clench our frightened fists around His Spirit, grasping for something to hold onto?
What if we reach out to touch God, and our fingers, instead, only close around thin air?
Well, let’s return to something I learned in university while wrestling most deeply with this question. (Don’t you find that you thought more interesting things in university? These days, the thing I seem to think about most is when I can next grab some deep-fried chicken or chocolate cheesecake.)
When I wrestled most deeply with this question at University, the philosophical argument called Pascal’s Wager, was a great balm to my soul.
Here it is, summarized. A fuller version can be found here:
Wager, then, without hesitation that He is. (…) There is here an infinity of an infinitely happy life to gain, a chance of gain against a finite number of chances of loss, and what you stake is finite.
As the song plays, consider asking God, “Am I afraid of the right things?” When we face our fear of death, a most surprising thing happens. Other fears seem to fly away somewhere!
Oh, Death, who’s afraid of you now?
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Today, I thought I’d teach you how to bond with your homeschooled kid by swearing at him!
This advice is a real-world example from my own life.
The weirdest stuff in life is true, so that’s how you can be assured I am telling the truth today.
So, one day, I found my 12-year-old looking downcast and despondent.
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When she was in the hospital, only a few days before her death, my fierce, feisty, 89-and-a-half-year-old grandmother fixed her intense blue eyes on me and said the one thing I never thought she would say.
“Lori,” she said, “I never thought this would happen so soon!”
She was talking about death.
My mind was like one of those old-fashioned calculators that was overheating, trying all different ways to understand what she was saying to me. In the end, was she saying that she was 89 and a half years old and hadn’t figured out that she could die soon? Yup.
That’s exactly what she said.
Of course, the fact that we die was not a truth that my grandmother was wholly unaware of. This fact approached her through all the deaths she witnessed during the Great Depression and the Second World War. However, this knowledge seemed to approach her from the side, not head-on. Unfortunately, she suffered from anxiety in her long life and feared a lot of stuff. But she was too busy fearing other stuff to remember to fear everything!
And so, you’re probably afraid of the wrong things, too.
You cringe at home, cornered up against the wall, afraid. I know. I can see you.
Actually, I can’t see you, but we all kind of live that way.
Sometimes, it feels like a blanket of fear settles over us all. And this fear comforts us somehow, just like a blanket comforts us from the cold. The only problem is that as it comforts, it also eats away at our souls, destroying us.
I pondered how to avoid fear as I read the book The Night The Angels Came about missionary Chrissie Chapman, who chose to spend her life in war-torn Burundi instead of peaceful Britain.
One day, she had a really bad week.
It was a bad week in a way that our first-world minds can’t really wrap our heads around. For example, her child was kidnapped. Yup. Seriously. That same week, a grenade was accidentally thrown into their yard as civil war was fought outside their house, and a gunshot bent the frame of her bedroom window.
Then, she was held up at gunpoint for a bag of rice due (in part) to food scarcity.
I look downstairs at my freezer, which is full of food, and I can’t remember what’s in it. So, I have a hard time relating to food scarcity. What a privileged culture we live in, in so many ways.
And yet, I know precisely how author Chrissie Chapman feels because I’ve had bad weeks, too!
I’ve had a bad week where fear was like a blanket, wrapping itself around my neck and choking me, too.
For example, one day this summer there was a clear blue sky, and the birds were singing. I live in peaceful rural North America, where the deer that eat my tulips are the most irritating intruders. (Why? Why do they have to do that?)
And yet, as I looked around, my heart was a cancer full of fear, consuming me.
What about those things in the news that might happen? What about that stuff I read on social media that might occur? And the worst question is, What if I’m worried about the wrong things?
So, as illustrated in the paragraph above, I can exactly relate to Burundian author Chrissy Chapman and her fears!
I’m just like her because my (peaceful) world makes me feel afraid, too!
And so how do we throw off the blanket of suffocating fear?
Let’s talk about that next Tuesday in Part 2 of this post.
For now, let’s constantly ponder . . . (that thing we never think about, that we all pretend will never happen).
You’re welcome!
Good luck!
Shhh. . . but:
(You learn more at a funeral than at a feast)
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