Spiritual Practices – kellye fabian

A Way to Pray for the World

Every news publication posts pictures daily that capture the horror (and beauty) of the human experience in this world. The temptation for me is to scroll through these pictures for information alone—to know what is happening in the world, to see it with my own eyes. But I’ve started to wonder what good it is to know these things. Is it so I can speak intelligently at dinner parties or with colleagues at work? So I can debate what governments should and shouldn’t be doing? So I can feel sadness or compassion or anger? So I will grow in fear about the evil and brokenness I see? Of course, some pictures move me to action—to protest, spend my money differently, donate to a particular organization that is doing good. There is only so much I can do, though, and I am inclined to withdraw instead and ignore the world.

Withdrawing from the world is not Jesus’ invitation to those who follow him. We are to engage the world, be light, offer hope, and pray—without ceasing, on all occasions, with all types of requests. What good is it to be inundated with pictures of the pain and horror in the world? To pray. To pray for the men and women and children who bear God’s image and who are loved deeply not only by God, but also by mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, siblings, husbands and wives, and friends.

We can pray without pictures. But with pictures, something changes. The Syrian refugees are not just a mass of people without names. In pictures, we see their faces and their eyes. Peace in the Middle East is not something that would be nice one day so we can stop hearing about it on the news. In pictures, we can see the urgency because of the faces terrorized by constant threat and the lack of stability and freedom. Black men killed by gunshots are not statistics. In pictures, we see they are bodies and souls made in God’s image, carefully crafted, formed for a purpose. The victims of natural disasters are not just numbers. In pictures, we can see their faces, their eyes, their hands, their feet. Our political candidates are not just platforms, ideas, and caricatures. They are people, made in God’s image, loved deeply. Concepts, numbers, and statistics are easy to ignore. Faces and eyes are not.

Here’s a way I’ve been praying for the world.

(Photo)

Father in heaven, I hold every face and soul in this picture in the light of your love and grace and hope. I pray for the mother and son in the foreground. May they feel your presence and love today. Have mercy on them. I pray for all the families and souls that are not shown in this picture, but who are experiencing something similar. May your kingdom break through in the midst of such pain, displacement, and violence. Guide the hearts and minds of government leaders who are making decisions about the broken systems that stand behind what is happening in this picture. May your peace be known.

(Photo)

Lord, it’s hard to know what to say. There is so much pain represented in this picture. I pray for Laquan McDonald’s family who are mourning the loss of their son, brother, cousin, nephew. Bring them your peace and comfort. Have mercy on them. I hold them in the light of your presence and love. I pray for Jason Van Dyke. Have mercy on him. Forgive him. In your grace, illuminate and heal whatever caused him to act the way he did. I pray for his family and all they are experiencing as a result of his actions. May your kingdom break through in the midst of the pain, the broken systems, the racism and hatred that is triggered or lies under the surface. Guide the hearts and minds of government and community leaders who are making decisions related to this incident and the systems that allow these shootings to keep happening. May your peace be known.

(Clinton Photo; Trump Photo)

Father, I pray for this woman and this man, made in your very image, and so loved by you that you gave your one and only Son to give them eternal life. I hold them in the light of your presence and love. May you guide their thoughts and words. I pray for every political candidate in the upcoming 2016 elections. May your kingdom break through in the midst of the divisive, vitriolic atmosphere that characterizes politics in our country. Let me be an example of love and kindness so that all will know I am a disciple of Jesus Christ.

May your kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven. Amen.

Practicing Bravery

I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. – Philippians 1:3–6

Growing up I received the message that it wasn’t okay to say how you were feeling, when you were hurt, or what made you angry. This was all to be stuffed down to maintain a fragile peace and to ensure that you would continue to be loved. This approach to feelings has spilled over into every relationship I’ve ever had. About a year ago, God showed me that He longed to heal this wound in me. And as in all transformation, my participation was required. So, I began practicing bravery in relationships—sharing when I felt hurt, overlooked, undervalued, or angry—every now and then. “Practicing” because I wasn’t sure I could do it or that I’d like it. This practicing is one of my biggest life battles because God is asking me to do the thing that, for me, is the hardest thing.

This weekend while riding in the car, I off-handedly told my 15-year old daughter that something another person said had annoyed me. Even as I said it, I knew there was more to the feeling, but I left it at annoyance. By some miracle, she has not inherited my stuff-it-don’t-say-it philosophy, so she proceeded to tell me it annoyed her that I was so annoyed. She said she couldn’t understand why it mattered so much to me that the other person said what they said. He was just expressing his opinion.

I felt stung and like I was 12 again and my feelings were not valid and shouldn’t be shared. My face burned and my gut tightened.

My daughter’s words hung in the air between us, waiting for a response. Everything in me demanded I not speak and the more time that passed, the more hostile the silence became. I know this kind of silence well; it has been a pillar of my relationships. A full five minutes went by and the silence felt like being in the presence of an old friend. I could wait out the awkwardness and then move ahead as if this moment had never happened. I’d done this all my life. I had a bottomless storage tank in my heart for unexpressed feelings.

I glanced over at my daughter in the passenger seat looking out the window. I know she sensed the tension in this silence and probably began to believe that she had done something wrong—that she shouldn’t have shared her feelings with me. But she could not have known the battle raging in my mind and heart. It started to feel cruel not to say anything even after the hundreds of seconds that had passed since she spoke. It was an act of aggression to shut down. Panic rose in the back of my throat as I considered responding. I prayed, but not in words; it was mostly just silent heart groans.

I breathed deeply, kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel. “Here’s why what he said mattered so much to me: When I was a kid…” I recalled what had happened at least 25 years earlier and the feelings that had been triggered. She listened with all the love she has in her, which is enough to fill an ocean. She asked a soft question and when she did, relief rushed over me and light filled my soul. I did it! And I was okay. I was safe. She still loves me.

We have no idea the battles being waged in the hearts and minds of people around us. May we be gentle and gracious with each other. And may we be brave and open as God heals our wounds.

Out Wandering

Everything was created through him; nothing—not one thing!—came into being without him.
What came into existence was Life, and the Life was Light to live by.
The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness; the darkness couldn’t put it out.
(John 1:3-5, MSG)

Yesterday afternoon I went for a walk to get my body moving and clear my head. I’d spent five or six hours writing and needed to be outside in the air. I would never want to waste a moment, though, and so I scrolled through available podcasts to find a 30-minute talk. This way I could learn something along the way. Thirty minutes would amount to four laps around the neighborhood pond at a good pace.

About three minutes into my walk I did something I’d never done. I veered off the paved path into the damp grace and down to the reeds lining the water. From a distance, the pond seemed choked by dull browns and harbingers of winter—my least favorite season. But as I got closer, I discovered movement and breath and life. My eyes could not hold it all in a single glance. Every little detail demanded my attention—cottony puffs sprouted out of large seed pockets, tiny flowers peaked from seemingly dead stalks, golden grasses bent in the wind, a pocked beetle tiptoed across a tree stump, and wispy snowflake blossoms bathed in sunlight.

I couldn’t help but touch these fall textures and as I kneeled to run my fingers along a prickly shoot, a grasshopper leaped across my hand, startling me to laughter. In that moment I realized how long it had been since I’d been out wandering, without a plan or stopwatch. I’d forgotten to be a stroller, or as the French would say, a flâneur—someone who wanders to notice the small and hidden wonders. Instead, I’d been walking on the path, trying not to get my shoes muddy. I’d been on a schedule, accomplishing things. I started to consider what else I might have missed, in my daughter’s eyes, a friend’s voice, or within my soul.

Oh, may we not forget to go out wandering to delight in the small and hidden wonders. Not one of them came into being apart from the divine hand. And may we not fail to notice His whispers within and between us for all the big things we are accomplishing.

How to Hear God (Part 3)

Over the last few weeks, I have been writing this series called How to Hear God. I’m not professing to have many answers, but just want to explore what Scripture says about this topic and what my learning has been over the last several years from others and my own experience. Still using Jesus’ words recorded in John 10:27 (“My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me”), this week, I’m focused on “my voice.”

If you’re like me, you have voices talking in your head all the time. Wait, that sounds weird. You know what I mean. You have your own voice that reminds you to do stuff, or that you’ve forgotten something. Sometimes that voice soothes you (“everything is going to be okay,” “I’m okay,” “I’ll get through this.”) You have the shaming voice that points out stuff you have done wrong or pretends to tell you truth about yourself even though it’s not truth at all (“that person would never like you;” “you’re a failure”). Sometimes that voice is a parent’s voice, or a teacher’s voice.

Then, there is this other voice. God’s voice. I believe there are ways to distinguish God’s voice from the other voices bouncing around inside. Here are a few of the identifiers for me:

God’s voice leads me to glorify only him. Any voice that glorifies me or another person, or deifies a problem I am having, is not God’s voice. (Is 45)

God’s voice is consistent with Scripture. When Scripture speaks to a particular issue and I hear a voice that contradicts what Scripture says, it is not God’s voice. (John 14:26)

God’s voice aligns with his character. God is holy, merciful, loving, present, faithful, great and awesome, mighty, grace-giving, and good. (Psalm 99; Deut. 4-7; John 3:16; 2 Th 2:16; Psalm 100) A voice that is inconsistent with these character traits is not God’s voice.

I cannot generate God’s voice. There are times when I need or want to hear from God and I don’t. I have tried really hard to generate God’s voice so I would be comforted or guided. But, I cannot generate his voice. If I have generated it, it is my voice, not his.

God’s voice does not use words I use. Any of the times I have heard God’s voice in my heart or spirit (not sure where it actually touches in), the words are not my words. If someone else heard them, they would not claim, “That sounds like something you would say.”

God’s voice points me toward love and servanthood. God’s voice has always pointed me to him or others in love and in service. He does not ask me to seek revenge, hold a grudge, turn my back, or judge. (1 John 4:7-21) He corrects me, yes, but he does not shame or condemn me.

Why does knowing God’s voice matter? Because I want to follow him. Knowing his voice is the first step. Next week: how do I follow?

Have you heard God’s voice?

How do you distinguish it from other voices?

How to Hear God (Part 2)

Based on John 10:27, we know that those who hear God:

Have a relationship with Jesus. (My sheep; I know them)
Are receptive to hearing from him. (listen to my voice)
Are willing to walk in faith to follow him. (they follow me)

Last week I explored having a relationship with Jesus and this week, I’m exploring what it means to be receptive to hearing from him. The best way for me to understand this is to think about conversations with my daughter. What comes to mind is the difference between trying to have a conversation with her at the airport as we are about to get on a plane and trying to have a conversation with her at the beach while we are on vacation.

At the airport, I am pulling my suitcase and carrying a backpack and my purse. There are people rushing all around us to catch their flights. I’m trying to find our flight number on the big electronic board so we can get to the right gate. We arrived at the airport a little late and so we are in a hurry to make it in time for our seating area to board. The flight is a couple hours and we don’t have anything to eat. My daughter’s hand is in mine, but I’m practically dragging her, forcing her little legs to keep pace. If, in the midst of all this, she were to start a conversation with me, I would be distracted, half-listening and looking away, as I continued to chart our course to the gate, perhaps missing a word here and there, and asking her to speak louder so I could hear her over the noise coming from every direction.

On the beach, we are alone. The sun is rising and we can hear every step on the damp sand. We carry nothing, simply walking hand-in-hand, breathing deeply, with nowhere to be. I can feel the shape and temperature of her hand. When she lets go to throw a rock into the water, I feel the last touch and sudden emptiness. I notice she has a tiny scratch on her cheek and that she has grown taller. When I hug her, I flash back to the moment I held her first. If she were to say something, it would be effortless for me to listen, I have been so in tune with her already. I could look at her full-on and there would be nothing pulling me away. I would absorb every word and all the feeling behind each one. I would be able to respond with love and the fullest attention.

So much of hearing God is about getting out of the airport. Most of us live there – metaphorically, I mean. We rush around, distracted, fists wrapped around our baggage. I most often hear God when I’m in the busyness of life, but only because I have been with him in the slowness of time. Here are some things I do to be receptive to hearing God no matter where I am:

Set aside time to be with him. Alone. Where I feel every movement and notice his presence. Otherwise, I’m always in the airport.

Read Scripture every day. Not like it’s the newspaper or my Facebook news feed. My goal isn’t to get through it as fast as possible, but to read it and then just be quiet. I don’t have a major revelation every day and there are days when I am distracted, don’t understand, or feel disconnected from what I’m reading.

Pray. This looks more like a conversation than a grocery list. Sometimes I use a Psalm and just read it aloud slowly. Sometimes I just say, “Father in heaven,” and nothing more. Things that most often keep me from praying: unbelief, fear, pride, busyness.

Walk with expectation. I expect to hear from God every day. And I do, through Scripture, through other people, through circumstances, and through whispers in my soul.

Have you heard from God? What were you doing?

Is there something you could take out of your schedule so you can make time and space to hear God?

How to Hear God (Part 1)

I started hearing God about a month after I committed my life to Jesus in December 2008. Yes, I do realize how that sounds, but there are things in my life that have happened that leave no room for doubt that this is true. Just read about me and the Marine. When I say I hear from God, I don’t mean that an out-loud voice comes down from heaven. I mean there is a whisper in my soul and, to me, it is often as distinct and loud as a voice from heaven would be. Entire books have been written on this subject (see Dallas Willard, Hearing God) and so I don’t mean to cover it once and for all here.

In John 10:27, we are told that Jesus said: “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.” Based on this verse, it is clear that those who hear from God:

1. Have a relationship with Jesus. (My sheep; I know them)

2. Are receptive to hearing from him. (listen to my voice)

3. Are willing to walk in faith to follow him. (they follow me)

None of these is easy to simply check off your list. Each requires effort, openness, and attentiveness. I want to explore the first one today and the others over the next two weeks.

So, how do you have a relationship with Jesus? Bob Goff, in his book Love Does, says that he realized at some point during his Christian life that he didn’t have a relationship with Jesus, he was a stalker of Jesus. “I collected pictures and gathered artifacts and bumper stickers about Christianity, and I talked about knowing Jesus like we were best friends, when actually we really hardly knew each other at all. And I memorized Bible verses and the names of the books of the Bible in order and the sequence of a bunch of events as well as who was there. At some point I had to confess that I was stalking Jesus. I was actually creeping myself out a little and I realized I was probably creeping God out too.”

Ouch. I get it. I don’t want to be a Jesus stalker. I want to be a Jesus knower. And to know him, I have to be with him and commune with him. Now, let’s just be upfront about this: He is not physically present on earth with us and so this is no small task. This is what I try to do (I stress “try”):

I read his words and do them. Matthew 25:34-40 is a good place to start.

I intentionally put myself in the places I have met with him before. When I am in creation (near the water or watching a sunset) I am overwhelmed by his presence.

I spend time with other people who know him. I have developed friendships with people who have loved Jesus much longer than me. I study them, listen to them, learn from them.

I spend time with people who are dying to know him. I have developed friendships with people who are searching and asking about Jesus. God uses me (and you) to show them who he is.

I ask him to reveal himself to me in my day. This is a simple prayer that I have seen God answer every time I make it.

How do you commune with Jesus?

How to Pray with Someone

My step-father is a quadriplegic and cannot move a muscle in his body other than those in his neck. What this means is that someone has had to feed him every bite he eats. Someone must put him into bed and get him out of bed. Someone has to brush his hair and brush his teeth. Every single thing he needs to do in his life, someone else has to do it for him.

But, my step-father does something that is really remarkable. He races sailboats. He is the skipper, the director, if you will, on a sailboat during regattas. The way this works is that he has a chair fastened to the back of the boat and he gets strapped into that chair for the duration of a particular race. The interesting part comes when he is put onto the boat. Four grown men lift him out of his wheelchair, one guy under one arm, one under the other, one guy under one leg, and one under the other. They carry him this way down a very narrow dock, with water on both sides, and then they transfer him to a couple other guys who are on the boat. During the transfer, my step-father is over the water being moved from one set of arms to another while these men carefully step aboard the boat. The boat is in the water, don’t forget, so when you step on, it moves. Eventually, the men maneuver my step-father to his chair. By the end, these men are sweating and out of breath.

I have watched this process on and off since I was 10 years old. Shirts come up, people lose their footing, sunglasses fall into the water. And every time, no matter how many times I have seen it, I cringe, watching through half-closed eyes, thinking, “They’re going to drop him!” But, they never have.

I wonder if my description reminds you of a story we read in Luke 5 when some men carry their friend, a paralyzed man, to where Jesus was teaching in a home. The problem was that it was too crowded and they couldn’t get their friend into the presence of Jesus. So, they climbed up the roof and lowered him down to the floor. Can you picture what this must have looked like? I picture four men who pick up their friend, one man under one arm, another under the other, one man under one leg, another under the other. While carrying him, instead of walking down a narrow dock with water on both sides, they climb up a roof. They are sweating and out of breath. They lose their footing, and their sunglasses. When they finally get their friend up onto the roof, they begin the process of lowering him to the floor below. I imagine some kind of harness and pulley system. I imagine them breathing heavily, worried. I imagine others watching and thinking: “They’re going to drop him!” But they don’t.

When the man lands at the feet of Jesus, Scripture says: “When Jesus saw their faith, he said, ‘Friend, your sins are forgiven.’” And later, he heals the man completely so he can walk again.

So, what does this have to do with prayer? I read something not long ago about a man dying of cancer who said that the the pain from his cancer overwhelmed him so much that he lost the ability to pray. When friends came to visit and asked what he needed, his answer was prayer. Some people in our lives have lost the ability to pray. They are in too much pain. They are overwhelmed by suffering caused by financial, relational, or emotional stress, by poverty, by joblessness, or by hunger. Or, maybe they don’t know how to pray and they are stuck. Often, though, we decide not to pray with people (preferring to do it in our head or alone) because we are worried about our words. We think we are not eloquent enough. We don’t pray as well as some other person we know. We don’t know enough Scripture. We fumble for words when put on the spot. We will be clumsy and awkward and embarrassed.

Have you ever seen four men carry a paralyzed man onto a boat? Or up onto a roof? It is the most awkward, clumsiest thing you will ever see in your life. In the story told in Luke 5, when the men carried their friend up onto a roof so that they could place him in the presence of Jesus, Jesus did not compliment their technique. He did not say, “Wow, what a pulley system you have put together!” or “You are strong and graceful men!” What Scripture tells us is that “[w]hen Jesus saw their faith, he said ‘Friend, your sins are forgiven.’”

It’s not our words. It’s our faith. It’s not the words we say in prayer. It is our faith to bring people into the presence of Jesus. There are people who have lost the ability to pray and they need not our words, but our faith. Our most powerful prayers are not necessarily the most eloquent, where all the words are right. Our most powerful prayers are the ones where we use the full measure of our faith even if it is clumsy and awkward, in order to present someone at the feet of Jesus for the help only he can give.

How do you do this when Jesus is no longer physically present on this earth? You don’t have to pick anybody up, but you could:

Hold their hand.
Put your arm around their shoulder.
Describe Jesus to them based on what you know from Scripture.
Say, “Lord Jesus, we are in your presence. Thank you for life. Forgive us for the ways we fall short. We need your help, healing, and peace as we struggle with [insert whatever the need is]. Deliver us.”

Is there someone you could help carry or walk with into Jesus’ presence?

Picture source: Mary Warren, The Lame Man Who Walked Again (Concordia, 1966)

How to Be Present

Non-presence. It is an epidemic. Sometimes I wonder if being present in a particular moment is even possible. So many thoughts and tasks, ideas and ideals, and cares and concerns pull me away. I am constantly greatly tempted to check email or Facebook or Instagram in the middle of a conversation with someone, while driving, and when I’m trying to enjoy being outside. Why is this? Why am I so distractible and tempted out of the moment? I don’t know why. All I I know is that when I’m not present, I am less grateful, notice less beauty, and feel less peace. When I’m not present, I’m not loving the people in my life well because I’m only giving them a shadow of myself, not my whole self. When I’m not present, I am unlikely to encounter God.

I started doing a couple things this week essentially by accident, but they have really helped me to be more present:

1. On my drive to work, I give myself permission to run through all the thoughts that come into my brain. Instead of fighting them off or distracting them with music, which is what I usually do, I let them in and process them. When something I need to do comes to mind, I dictate a note about it into my phone and then move on.

2. As I approach people to meet or speak with them, I pray first. Just a simple prayer: “Father, help me be present. Let me see you here.” Realizing God’s presence in every encounter has made each moment alive, full, and surprising.

There are obvious things to do to remain present, like not checking my phone during conversations with people or when I’m seeking time with God. But I need more and so far these two things have been working.

How do you stay present?

Are there things you could do that would help?

How to Quit Stuff

There are many verses in Scripture that encourage us to stand firm and not give up (Acts 20:24; 1 Corin. 15:58; 1 Corin. 16:13; Gal. 6:9; Eph. 4:1; Heb. 12:1; 2 Peter 1:10), so the idea of quitting seems contrary to how we are to be as followers of Jesus. But the Scriptures make clear that we are to stay firm in our faith, our calling, and doing good. I do all kinds of things that do not squarely fall into these categories. Does that mean I need to quit them? Bob Goff says he quits something every Thursday; it’s part of his rhythm of life. I love this idea because I am often overwhelmed by busyness and stretched thin by various demands on my time, sometimes to the point that I cannot manage to take care of basic things in my life. But I needed to think through how to quit stuff, so I came up with a series of questions to ask and bring to God in prayer to figure out whether a certain activity is something I need to quit.

Does the activity:

bring me life or drain me?
create space or demand space?
refresh or tire me?
enable or inhibit my ability to live out my calling?
build my faith or undermine it?
calm my mind and heart?
trigger discontent with my life?
lift me up or bring me down?
cause me to be more loving or more judgmental?
lead me into a particular temptation?
make me less or more likely to hear God’s whispers?
take time away from a family member or friend who needs me?

Sometimes a “no” to just one of these questions leads me to quit that particular activity. Sometimes the answer is not that clear, but learning to ask the questions is a game-changer.

Is there something you need to quit?

What other questions would you ask to determine if you need to quit something?

How to Find Rest

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Jesus’ words, Matthew 11:27-30)

When I read this, everything in me cries: “Yes! I want that! But how do I do it?” Resting is not easy for me. I have lived most of my life believing one of the greatest fallacies ever conceived – that action and movement are superior to rest. Rest is built into the way we and everything else was created. Sleep. Night. Fallow fields. Winter. To ignore rest is to live in constant battle with the way we were made, like walking uphill, against the wind. How to rest in our world is tricky. And somehow, the harder I try, the more difficult it is. For me, rest comes only when I create an environment that enables rest.

So, here are some things I do to find rest:

Remind myself who I am, a created child of the living God, and who God is, the creator. Otherwise, I am compelled to think I hold the world together and without me, things would fall apart.

Recognize that I have limits and that rest is good. Otherwise, I ignore the need for rest or reject it as a weakness.

Stop doing things that feel like work or make me anxious. Otherwise, deep breaths don’t come and my mind continues to run.

Do only do those things that give me life. Otherwise, I will not be filled and restored.

Release my to-do’s and anxious thoughts by briefly writing them down as they come to mind. Otherwise, these will flood my brain and all hope for rest is lost.

Eat regular meals and favorite foods. Otherwise, I am distracted by my hunger and my body is uncomfortable.

Surround myself with scents that I only use during times I rest or before I go to bed (black cherry, vanilla, or sun and sand candles; lavender and chamomile lotion). Otherwise, my body thinks it is time to move, to go, to act.

Wear comfortable clothes. Otherwise, I am distracted by discomfort.

Exercise. Otherwise, my body does not know what to do with the energy it produces.

Listen to sounds or music I associate with rest. Otherwise, noise can clutter my mind and make frantic my thoughts.

Be with people with whom I can be fully authentic and comfortable. Otherwise, I will be concerned about saying or doing the right thing at the right time.

How do you find rest?