Finding Sanctuary

 

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When I first started this blog the title was Losing Sanctuary.  One of the definitions listed in the dictionary under “sanctuary”reads,

A place where wildlife, especially those hunted for sport,
can take refuge and grow in safety from hunters”.

I have several sanctuaries.  One is my home.  I love my home,  simply because it’s so homey.  Another is my shower – that borders on TMI but I have some of my best conversations with God in there.  Another is my car.  My car is like my prayer closet.  Your sanctuary might be a friend, or maybe your marriage.  Your sanctuary might even be your children.  It could be a place – like the ocean or the mountains – wherever you might run for renewal.

One of my favorite sanctuaries is where I first observed grace in real life.  It was offered to me and many others like me. I was given immunity from who I really was; loved and well cared for despite my wobbly faith. I reveled in my first taste of grace and grew in its sweet balm, and I watched others do the same.  We still wobbled now and then, but my sanctuary and its people would come alongside and lift us up, offering us the encouragement we needed to live in the righteousness already in us, based on who we carried with us  – not the punishment we were entitled to.  It was there that I learned to listen for the dove’s voice.

Much like wildlife,  many of us came wounded to this sanctuary.  We were battered and bruised, we were  hunted by the world where some find sport in pointing a condemning finger at you, judging your actions, misunderstanding your motives, and laughing at your expense.  It was there that we found safety.  It was there that we were trusted.  It was there that we were given life-giving safety and we watched grace being lived out.  The caretaker of this sanctuary cared for us in ways we would never find again.  It wasn’t perfection, but there was beauty, and grace, and new life here.

And then it happened.  This strong sanctuary that I thought would withstand any strong wind was hit by a doozy – a storm bigger than I had ever experienced in my safe little world.  Could the foundation of grace within us hold this sanctuary together?  My naivety thought it would because I thought this sanctuary was immune to the divisiveness that can hide a coming storm.

The tricky part was that it was hard to recognize the storm at first.  It came disguised in little droplets of rain that wouldn’t arose anyone’s suspicions.  The caretaker moved on to care for another sanctuary and ours was soon wearing different shoes and caring for the sanctuary in foreign ways.  A change was made here.  A new sign there.  Doors were locked that we were use to walking through.  A nifty new emblem was designed to remind us that we were no longer who we were.  Changes that, in of themselves might not rattle the windows.  Soon an air of secrecy seeped in.

It’s hard to discern the line between different and messy.  I’m really OK with different – I actually do pretty well with change.  It’s good for you to change things up now and then. But before we knew it the winds howled and the shutters slammed against the sanctuary, and soon it seemed way beyond different.  Waters soon began leaking into the safe walls of the sanctuary and began to flood it’s foundation.

What I’ve learned is that the best environment for great accomplishment is an environment of trust, safety, and authenticity.  If you try to accomplish anything outside of that kind of environment, you will fail miserably and miss the authenticity of relationship that is needed to remember why you do what you do in the first place.  Then you go from a sanctuary of grace to a sanctuary of law, rules and regulations.

How the heck did this happen?  How could God allow this? I mean really….if sanctuary is where He is, how could He allow this to happen?  I was certain that God had been the center of this sanctuary, so would He not protect my place of refuge and grace?  Surely He would protect this sanctuary from this calamity, and come to our aid!

But He didn’t.  He sat on His hands and allowed pain and suffering to refine us.  Soon there were reactions, hurt feelings, then a spirit of mistrust fell over the sanctuary.  Hearts were broken, including mine.  Friends left the sanctuary to find a safer place, and I fought against the losses with all I had in me.  Did I play any part in this hard?  I wanted to fix it and seek justice, but a wise man once told me not to fight other people’s battles.  So I withdrew and tried to continue to pursue the grace that I knew had to still be there…somewhere hidden beneath the floorboards.  I became emotionally and spiritually stuck.

I ended up getting lost in what the sanctuary had been, and not what God might be doing to make it better.  I focused on the place and it kept me from remembering who I was in Christ – who was actually in me. And I started to believe that if I were more spiritually diligent and devoted, then I’d feel OK about the sanctuary.  I did and it didn’t help.  I felt the flood waters rising.  But God, as He always does, met me in my pain.  He whispered to me that I would never find sanctuary in anything apart from Him.  Big giant duh!

So I’m learning new and exciting things about grace and maneuvering through the hard.  Here is what I’m learning in this sanctuary in the midst of the flood:

  • God is less interested in sanctuaries than He is in BEING your sanctuary.
  • I am the most important sanctuary I need to be focusing on because He lives within me.
  • God is not absent in our suffering.
  • There is great spiritual growth and maturity that comes from hardship and trials (BGD!).
  • My ability to deal with the hard has more to do with my relationship with God, than it does with the hardship.
  • I need to focus on what my responsibility is to those who live within this sanctuary to help them heal and grow through the hard (thanks CP).
  • If I am going to blog about grace, I had darn well better be willing to give it and be a part of it, and experience it in community here in this ever-changing sanctuary.
  • I am much better at writing about the truths I love so much than I am at living them.

How’s that for honesty?  Yikes.  A precious friend of this sanctuary said to me recently… “God must love [your sanctuary] SO much that He would allow it to go through this refining”.  So I struggle to be brave in the midst of the hard.  It’s uncomfortable.  I don’t like it.  I don’t understand it….but that’s OK.  It’s not my job to understand.  Once again God is teaching me about trusting Him.  Dang I wish I’d get this trust thing right.

So the truth of the matter is that I really haven’t lost this sanctuary – Christ is in me.  He is my sanctuary, and maybe I was making this one somewhat of an idol.  I dunno.  There’s a lot I don’t know.  All I know is that I’m walking through the hard with the help of the One who sees all and knows all and is walking me through the pain step by step.  So I’m finding new possibilities in this sanctuary.  And maybe new sanctuaries.

Once again, the hard is cloaked in love and grace.

Spring planting

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Here in No. California we’ve had crazy up-n-down weather patterns.  When it’s supposed to be cold and rainy…it’s been crazy hot and breaking temperature records.  When it’s supposed to be warm and balmy…it’s pouring down rain and blowing 50 mph winds.  Like I said – crazy!  It’s hard to plant or make plans for seeding a new lawn with such unpredictable weather.

I love green grass.  If there is grass next to a sidewalk, I will choose to walk on the grass.  The feel of it under my feet is divine, and a game of touch football on a lush lawn is nothing short of heaven.  That’s why two years ago when our back lawn was infected with a fungus (I’m just gonna go ahead and say it….there was a fungus-amongus!) and it quickly spread down our sloping back lawn and touched everything in its path – I was devastated.  Soon our entire lawn was dying, with a brown rolling wave of withering grass spreading across the entire backyard.  We finally came to the difficult conclusion that we had to kill the whole dang thing in order to replant and grow it again.  Don’t you hate it when that happens?  When you have to purge the old in order to regrow and reinvent something new?  Something better?  There’s a spiritual message right there (II Cor. 5:17) but I’ll continue on.

I felt horribly guilty.  Killing something I loved so much so that it could come back better.   However, we quickly learned that this killing thing wasn’t going to be so easy.  Fungus doesn’t go away without a fight.  We had to resort to killing it over and over again for several months because that pesky fungus kept trying to hide amongst the remnants of the good grass attempting to sprout.  Again, another spiritual message there, but all I can say is them fungi is sneaky lil’ boogers.  Finally, just when we were ready to make plans to reseed the lawn, the California drought caused us to initiate water conservation measures.  That meant no new lawn that spring / summer, and we went through the next year with dead grass and just dirt in our backyard.

At first we felt a bit proud of our barren wasteland.  We had vowed our support for the cause, decided to be good sports about it, and made mud pies out of dirt – that right there  was my literary making lemonade out of lemons attempt.  So we set up horseshoes and baggo, and the Yorkies enjoyed a summer of rolling in the dirt and tracking it into the house.  As our second spring rolled around, our hopes for green were once again dashed with the continued water restrictions (we really need water out here, and thank you, Jesus, that as I write this it’s raining buckets outside!) and so we muddled through a second full summer of dirt, horseshoes, baggo, mudpies and dusty Yorkies.  We hardly went out onto our backyard patio because it was so depressing.

There’s always good that comes from the bad, and as a result of all this time it gave me time and inspiration to come up with a great new landscaping plan to divide our back lawn into two sections – one flat with green grass and the other a raised area with a more drought-tolerant landscape.  So Salsa Guy and I began digging up dirt eight weeks ago, leveling the grass area so that we got rid of the slope that let the fungus travel willy nilly , to and fro, and began tilling the soil and getting rid of rocks before it was time to throw the seed out.

Grass seed is a bit like baby sea turtles.  You saw them on the Bachelor  in the Jamaican sand when Ben and Lauren helped the little guys make it from the beach out to the sea.  Wait….what?  You’re too spiritual to watch the Bachelor?  Don’t judge me – remember this blog is about grace.  Anyway, not all those cute little newborn baby turtles will make it out to their destiny in the ocean, and their journey is a difficult one.  After they hatch, they’re very vulnerable and need to be protected.  Some of them can be eaten by birds, some might be eaten by other sea predators.  Not all that are deposited in the sand by their mother will grow successfully into the adult sea turtles they were designed to be.

And so it is with grass seed.  We knew our seeds had a difficult journey ahead of them. Some of those little seeds would get trampled, or fall under little rocks where not enough sun or water would get to them and they’d never germinate.  Spiritual lesson No. 2 (Luke 8:5-8).  If the wind was blowing, some of the seeds might blow away.  And even though we covered the seed with topper dirt, birds seemed to flock to our backyard to dine on our grass seeds al fresco, trying to thwart my dream for a green backyard once again.  Air soft guns come in handy for battling this, by the way.

So three weeks ago, as I stood with seed in hand, my dreams of grass beneath my feet weighing in the balance, I began to turn the crank on the seed spreader that allowed the little seedlings to fly out onto the fertile ground.  This is sounding more like a dramatic novel by the minute.  I’m not ashamed to say I said a prayer for the perfect blend of sun, rain, air and accurate aim.  I felt like a mother blade of grass…”grow little seedlings…. grow!”

And guess what?  Grow they did!  I’m happy to report that a week or so after our inaugural seeding, tons of little green heads began popping up across our backyard.  You should have seen me – I was like a new mother!  I would run out each morning to see how my little seedlings were doing.  I would talk to them, encouraging them to lean into the light.  I checked the sprinkler system constantly, afraid that my babies might get too much water and drown.  I shot at birds with the accuracy of a marksman, and shoo’d the pups off my newborn lawn.  I even asked my small group to pray for my lawn – I believe God cares about the little things.

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So now here comes the spiritual application – if we’re talking in gardening terms (and Jesus often did), we all need a little opportunity for a “do over” along our journey, don’t you think?  Perhaps getting rid of the old – some withering branches or infected lawn – or perhaps it might be the old way of doing things, and trying a new direction.  Turning away and taking a new path.  God is in the business of recreating us, trimming a little off here to allow for new growth, and even sometimes asking us to change a habit, or a way of thinking, perhaps a sin or even an attitude that is doing us harm.  It’s called pruning (John 15:1-11). But the ultimate payoff is that we grow stronger….better than we were before.  Isn’t that gracious of Him?   He wants us to grow and be better than we were.  Rebirth.  Regrowth.  Renewal.  We don’t often find that in all other relationships, but a Father who loves his children will do that for their benefit.

So we’ve had a successful Spring of planting seeds.  We now have a beautiful green lawn coming in thicker by the day, and Salsa guy and I enjoy just sitting on the patio, looking out over our green kingdom, and sipping special lemonade with our air soft guns in-hand.  How are your seeds doing?  Seeds of change?  Seeds of friendship?  Seeds of patience?  Seeds of kindness?  Seeds of grace for another human being?  Seeds of grace for yourself?  Be sure to care well for those newly planted seeds, because grace is lush and nothing short of heaven when it’s nourished.