Morning Prayer

Last fall I started a morning prayer time with a small group of students using Phyllis Tickle's Divine Hours as our guidebook. This morning the "Prayer Appointed for the Week" particularly spoke to me:

Almighty and merciful God, in your goodness keep me, I pray, from all things that may hurt me, that I, being ready both in mind and body, may accomplish with a free heart those things which belong to your purpose; through Jesus Christ my Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one Good, now and for ever. Amen.

Would you join me in prayer?

His name was Ed. He was wearing an old Tommy Hilfiger jersey shirt over a plaid flannel shirt and a Budweiser Select ball cap. His face showed that at its last shave, he had worn a goatee. But his last shave had to have been over a week ago. His eyes were brown and welled up with tears from time to time. He was missing one bottom tooth. And he was homeless. Not only was he homeless, but he was a heroin addict. I met him last Friday at a “Soup Kitchen” in St. Louis. Discipleship had taken its annual mission trip there for this year and we had worked in a variety of places: a children’s home (for a rough group of kids), two different schools (for an even rougher group of kids), and the soup kitchen. There were 21 of us in total. A group of students had worked all year planning the trip, another group fundraising for it, and all of us praying for it. And now we were in the midst of the trip. We had just completed a “Homeless Walk,” where we had spent two hours trying to understand the homeless situation in downtown St. Louis. We walked (in the rain, as it had been raining the whole week we were there) for four miles from place to place, a church where they were allowed to pray, “Hobo Park” where they could take a nap, a library where they could read or search the internet, a couple of shelters where they could sleep for the night, and back to the church, where they could grab their next meal. We were pretty miserable from the two hours that we spent in the cold and rain, and then had the opportunity to eat with some of the men, women and children with whom we now felt solidarity. I followed two of my students to a table near the back of the room where they sat down beside a man who nodded and said hi when we sat down.

Ed confessed to us his heroin addiction early in our conversation and then told us that he would be entering a treatment program for his addiction that afternoon. He told us that he had a ride coming to pick him up after lunch was over. As we talked, he shared with us that he had not always been a drug addict. He had formerly been a window washer for high rise buildings and had been able to work anywhere he wanted. At one point, he even told use that he “was not like the rest of these homeless guys.” He said that he had only been homeless for a week and that he had now hit rock bottom. He spoke with clarity, not appearing to be high at the moment. He expressed his regret, sadness, and anger at his addiction. And thankfully, he had hope. He had hope that he would break out of his darkness, but not a naïve, unfounded hope.

“Five years ago, I would have been the one here helping out with this program, telling these guys that they can break out of addiction,” he said. You see, he had been “clean” several different times, once for more than two years. But, slowly, temptation had arisen for him, one time in the form of a client who offered him drugs, sending him into the downward spiral of addiction, once again. This time, he said that it had partially been because of his girlfriend, Stephanie. They were both addicts who had been clean when they met, but “were not good for each other,” as he said. She had entered the hospital that morning for her attempt at rehabilitation. But he painfully told me that they had broken up that morning when she went to rehab. He wants to be clean and he knows that he can’t be clean and stay connected to her. Now, I was hopeful. He might have a chance, I internally reasoned. I asked him why he had been able to stop doing drugs before and he said, “God. I know that God is the only thing stronger than heroin. I just hope that he can break the addiction in me this time, too, and for good.” At one point, he even said, “You don’t know how hard it is for me to stay sitting here. Everything in me wants to just get up right now and go outside and find drugs.” Thankfully, not quite everything. I believe that there is a glimmer of God’s grace that is holding on to him in the midst of his darkness.

I have to say, I don’t understand the downward spiral of addiction. I hear it has dark claws that hold on to the heart and mind of those that submit. I think of Frodo in Lord of the Rings and the weakness that results for him when he “uses” the ring to “hide.” The final scenes of the last movie of the trilogy illustrate the bitter conflict of addiction, as best I can ascertain. The darkness that enfolds a person when they are in sin, that is something that we can all identify with, I suppose. The apostle Paul said it this way: “For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this is what I keep on doing” (Romans 7:19). He goes on to say, “What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:24). Truly, only the power of God can set any of us free from our inclination to sin. And thankfully Ed knows that, too. Unfortunately, admitting you have a problem is only the first step.

Ed will have many steps to take in getting free from his addiction. And unfortunately he will have to take the hardest of those steps by himself. He will need every possible grace of God in order to make it. I asked him how long his rehab would be. He said 12 weeks to 6 months, but hoped that it would be 6 months long. He really wants to make it this time and the longer he would have, the better his chance would be. As he spoke, I forcefully felt the urge to pray for him, not just that day, but until his treatment was over. I tried to shove it away…intercession is hard work! But, the urge would not leave me. I offered it to him. “Ed, would it be okay with you for me to pray with you for the next 6 months, while you’re in rehab?” Those brown eyes, now rimmed in red, welled up with tears as he said, “Oh please! And would you pray for Stephanie, too?” He went on to say that he knew that he needed every support that he could possibly get in order to break free from his addiction.

His ride came right on time to pick him up. He gathered his things and said over his shoulder, “Thanks for your prayers.” His next 6 months will be the hardest of his life. He will have to let his body get rid of the drugs. He will have to resist the urges to “stop” the pain by getting more drugs. And he will have to learn how to forgive himself and others who have contributed to his addiction. I do believe that he’s learned the lesson of sacrifice in obedience. He yielded his relationship with his girlfriend in an attempt to make it this time. But, even still, I don’t know if he’ll make it. I want to believe that he will. I want Ed to draw strength knowing that someone is praying for him in Kansas. I want him to turn his life around and begin a ministry of reaching out to drug addicts to show them the way of life in Christ. I want all that to happen, but I will never know, even if it does happen. The task of the Christian is to be faithful, even when one doesn’t see results. Even so, I pray that this time, Ed can make it. May it be so, Lord, may it be so.

Lord, be with Ed and Stephanie. Surround them with your love and grace. Bring people into their lives that have compassion and care for them. Remove the darkness that addiction brings to them. Shine in your healing light. Let them know that they are worth loving, even in their darkest moments.

27, er, I mean 9 Dresses

So...you guessed it! I get to be a bridesmaid, AGAIN! This time it is for my twin sister. The picture to the left is them. Don't they look happy? They are...and everyone else is pretty happy for them, too! For any of my friends who read this, here is their wedding website.

Accomplishments and Disappointments

Last Sunday, I accomplished something that I’ve talked about doing for 3 and a half years! My friend (and former running partner!!), Corrie, and I began talking about running a half marathon back when we were running around the gym in the Luce Center. It seemed like a far off goal, as even then we were “building up” to running a 5K, a mere 3.1 miles. But, we talked about it, even talking about where we would run the race. Life happened and I moved away, but we still talked about running one at some point. Then, “Life” passed me by as she continued training without me and ran a half marathon a year after I moved away.

And yet, I was given another chance. Last fall, my sister began talking about running a half marathon. When Amy brought it up, I told her that I was going to run one, too! I don’t think that she believed me. To her credit, I had really only started running again in August, and even then, it was just 1 measly mile. By that time it was October and I had worked up to 3 miles (but only once or twice!). What was I thinking? I wanted to be able to run 13.1 miles by the spring? Well, fortunately, I wasn’t thinking, just acting on a desire that had been planted in me three years earlier!

And so, armed with a new pair of Adidas, and some new workout clothes, I started running “purposefully” last November. My sister pushed me to run (even on Thanksgiving Day) even when I didn’t want to, and then my pride took over! I had told people, namely my sister (who, by the way is in awesome shape), that I was going to run a half marathon in the spring, and by golly, I was going to do it, even if it meant running on holidays. Throughout the winter, I bundled up, avoided the ice and snow, and ran anyway. I enjoyed the “think time” of being able to just go and put my brain on autopilot while I worked my body. By Christmas time, I was bored of my own brain and bit the bullet to buy an iPod to be my training partner. I was ecstatic when I discovered the Nike+ system that charts my mileage, my pace, and the length of time I’ve been running. Soon, I abandoned my old (shorter) routes of 3 to 5 miles and I set out to blaze a new (longer) trail, with my iPod as my guide! This was wonderful, as I didn’t have to take the time to drive my routes anymore. My distances were able to be downloaded, analyzed, and recorded for me to study to improve my pace. My iPod and me—we were a great team! It always told me everything I needed to know!

Race day came last Sunday morning in Lawrence, KS, and I was absolutely confident! Sure, I would be lots slower than my sister, but I would make it—no problem! During my last long workout, I had run 11.5 miles in 2 hours and 5 minutes and I was ready to go. It had not been easy, but I knew that I could make it one and a half miles further. As we set out running that morning, I quickly settled into my pace (SLOW!) that I knew I would be able to sustain. It wasn’t a breeze, but I was making it. I sure was looking forward to being done, but I just kept putting one foot in front of the other…on Mass. St…by the stadium…up the hill to the Campanile…up another hill…and through residential areas. About mile 9, I began to be perplexed. I caught a glimpse of the mile marker and something didn’t seem right. I had pressed the button to hear from my iPod about my distance a few minutes earlier and it had told me that I had run over 10 miles. I was confused by the sign, but convinced myself that it must be wrong. According to the times that I had run the week before, I was on pace to have already run over 10 miles! I kept running, putting one foot in front of the other…a park…another hill…a water station…and then, finally, heading back in the direction of Haskell, where the race was to end. I pushed the button once again and heard sweet, wonderful words: “You’ve completed 12.5 miles.” Yeah! I’m almost done, but something didn’t quite seem right. I couldn’t even see the stadium yet. My worst fears were confirmed when I saw the mile marker sign marked 11. A panic set in as I realized that my iPod had been feeding me wrong information through my race that day. The worst of it? I had been sharing my information with a fellow runner who was just as ready to be done as I was! I silently despaired at the thought of 2.1 miles to go instead of the .5 miles that I thought remained. I confessed to my fellow runner that I had been accidentally feeding him wrong information and he confessed that he had stopped believing me a mile earlier when he passed the 10 mile mark (which apparently, I had explained away). Those last 2.1 miles seemed like the longest miles ever. My blister from the week before had returned, my knees ached, my head spun, and my toes hurt. But, I kept putting one foot in front of the other. I prayed, I thought of the well wishes that I had gotten from students, friends, and family. As I headed toward the finish line, I saw my sister, some students from Southwestern, and the rest of my friends who were waiting patiently. I took the headphones out of my ears and I kept repeating the words, “I will not stop running, I will finish this race,” in my head. Somehow, I managed. For the next few minutes, everything sort of turned into a blur of pain, water, and the now unfamiliar feeling of standing still. As I told my friends about my iPod, my sister asked me, “Didn’t you see the mile markers? They should have told you how far you had run.” My answer? “I think I saw most of them, but I didn’t want to believe they were right. I wanted my iPod to be right.” I was struck by the truth in that statement. How frequently do I see the signs in life about something, but I explain it away through my own rationalizations, excuses, or ignorance. How many times do we look at something, and still not recognize the Truth standing right in front of us?

My finish time was disappointing. It took me a very long 2 hours and 40 minutes to finish the race. I was shooting for 2 hours and 20 minutes. I got home and downloaded the data to my computer and laughed out loud when I looked at it. I managed to keep the pace in my “desired” range (10:30-11:00/miles) until I ran 13 miles…according to my iPod, anyway. It takes a serious dip after it records 13. I wasn’t prepared. I thought I was. I had run for weeks, and weeks, and weeks. I thought I had run 11.5 miles. But, I was relying on a wrong system to tell me what to do. My iPod had been wrong on race day, but it had also been wrong every other day that I had trained. By my calculations, I must have only run 10 miles the previous week, causing a pretty big jump to 13 when it really counted. While I faced the disappointment of not hitting my goal, I did enjoy the satisfaction of completion of the race.

That’s what it’s truly about, isn’t it…finishing the race? In our Christian lives, we often think that we’re on the right track, doing all that we need to do, listening to God’s voice, and then sometimes, we’re put to the test by our circumstances and we discover that we really weren’t quite as prepared as we thought we were. We stumble. We fall. We sometimes even lead others astray by our actions. But fortunately, God continues to surround us with people cheering us on, encouraging us, and challenging us to get back in the race. And certainly he leaves us mile markers. If only we have the eyes to see them.

Christ is Risen!

He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

And Yet...

After the supper was over, Jesus and his disciples left the Upper Room and went to a garden called Gethsemane. Jesus knew that his time on earth was limited and the unfolding events would alter not only his life, but the rest of human history. He must have been numbly exhausted, and yet, his soul was in distress. He made one request of his disciples: “Stay here and keep watch with me.” They must have been eager to please their rabbi, and yet, they failed him in his most distressing hour. Not once, not twice, but three times he found them sleeping when he had asked them to pray. How often we fail to keep our word, follow through, or do our best, despite our best intentions. And yet, Christ loves us through it all. He willingly drinks the cup that leads him to death for penalty of our sins.

As the Lenten season comes to a close and we wait longingly for Easter, may we remember that we are deeply in need of a Savior. We often seem to have it together. We like to think that we’re not that bad. However, at the very least, we get tired. We get impatient. We want things to just hurry up. We act like the disciples on that last night that Jesus had with together with them. We have good intentions, and yet, we fall asleep. Fortunately for us, we have a patient Savior. We can be rebuked and then reinstated (like Peter—the sleeper)! I take great peace in reading these words of Peter in 1 Peter 4:7: “Be clear minded and self-controlled so that you can pray.” Peter wrote these words knowing that this was not an easy task. And yet, he learned the lesson. May we learn it, too.

Lenten Lament

The season of Lent is upon us! We are caught in the middle of the time when we are initiated into death (Ash Wednesday) and when we celebrate the New Life of Jesus Christ through Resurrection Sunday (Easter). I did not grow up observing Lent. I thought it was something that only my Catholic friends did, and even then, I didn’t have any clue what it was that they did (except not eating meat). My first real exposure to Lent was when I went to a United Methodist college and we had an Ash Wednesday service in Chapel one year. I received the smudge of ashes on my forehead, feeling self-conscious for the next hour about what the ashes said about me. They boldly proclaimed my mortality—ashes to ashes, dust to dust. They said I was a “religious” person. They sent a message to others about who I was. And they made me uncomfortable! Sure, I was a Christian—others on campus who knew me already knew that about me. But somehow the ashes signified my brokenness in a way that I’d never “broadcast” before.

Lent is the time of year when we embrace the fact that we are a finite and broken people. In a sense, we mourn our humanity. We remember that one day we will die. In fact, as the preacher on Ash Wednesday said this year, “Without Christ, we are dead.” It sounds blunt, but it is the truth. When we live a life without Christ, we actually are dead already. Dead to eternal life. Dead because of our sin. We are walking dead. The Lenten season reminds us of our death. That’s not very encouraging! We like to put a positive spin on things. Naturally, we like to push our thoughts toward Easter, that resurrection morning when death was defeated. And yet, it’s important to dwell in the morbid thoughts of our broken humanity for this season of the year.

Christian tradition teaches us to deny ourselves of something during the Lenten season. Some choose chocolate, others Facebook, or something else. This year I chose morning TV. I’m not ashamed to admit it…my day starts better when I have Good Morning America to accompany me in my morning ritual! I sometimes switch to The Today Show when GMA isn’t so hot, but I do enjoy catching some news along with the new spring fashions. This year, I decided that I would give up morning television as a way of denying myself and focusing on Christ. All was well until that chapel a week after Ash Wednesday. It was announced in chapel that the Discipleship team would be giving up pop and sending the money to Blood: Water Mission to dig a well in Africa. This was news to me, but I was all for it! I had just recently heard about this project and their plan to build wells for clean water in Africa. I was happy to donate money, but not too keen on giving up pop. During this first week, I sort of played around with this idea. Okay…so I won’t buy any new pop, but I’ll drink what I have on hand (fortunately for me, I had purchased 2-24 packs. Hey—they were on sale!) just a week before Lent. Or, I won’t buy any pop at a restaurant, but if I’m not paying for it and it’s included in the price, it’s okay. I’ll still donate money. For goodness sake, I’m giving up morning TV for Lent! I didn’t decide on the pop thing—it was decided for me and I’ll donate the money.

And then, this weekend…the still, small voice of God finally broke through my litany of excuses.

“Ashlee…is this really about not drinking pop, or is this about your
stubborn humanity? Do you want to do things your way, or are you willing
to yield to me? Have you taken seriously what it means to ‘take up your
cross and follow me’?”

Well…when you put it that way, Lord! My broken excuses revealed for all to see about my humanity, much more obviously than the smudge of ashes on my forehead ever did. It’s easy for me (as for all of us) to justify our actions, pay off our “guilt,” or plug our ears to the still, small voice of our Savior. And so, we can’t skip ahead to Easter. We need Lent. A time when we willingly admit our brokenness, for all to see! We remind ourselves that without Christ, we are dead. We deny our “wants” in order to join in the sufferings of Christ, relying on his strength. I’m still not watching morning TV until after Easter, but for me, Lent has become about denying myself in another way. I’m letting the decision of another person (the Kingdom Committee of the Discipleship team) help break me of my stubbornness. I’m giving of my financial resources and I’m hopeful for the recipients of the well that we will contribute to, but that’s not the goal. (Don’t get me wrong—it’s a wonderful, wonderful byproduct of our obedience!). The goal is that we would become people that are fully submitted to Christ, every day of the year, able to respond to the countless ways that we are employed by Christ to do the work that he has called us to do. So…lament! Lament and remember your humanity. Remember that without Christ, you are dead. And on that day when we celebrate the new life that we have in Christ, we will join with Christ and be raised from the dead. And this year, the recipients of the new well in Africa can celebrate with us, too.