the symphony in the silence

I am most amazed of how the Lord moves when I myself am motionless.

This afternoon, I watched the Lord guide a conversation from confession, to justification, to internal reflection, to conviction, to action. I saw Him shape the hearts of men, awaken their spirit, with a timing that was so perfect for each heart and spirit to align in unity.

Had I spoken up, interrupted with my own contributions based in frustration and disagreement, I'm not sure I would have witnessed seeing the Lord's hand. For certain, I would have either forced the conclusion of the conversation prematurely, or derailed the conversation all together.

As our church winded around the twists and turns of self-discovery, I reluctantly chose silence and instead praised the Lord for each new epiphany. (I rarely praise discovery, and instead hold out my praises for the final outcome). And I reached the final epiphany that the Lord has been imprinting on my soul for a while now:

Let me be the maestro, and let your prayers evoke the music in others. In your silence, listen to the harmony and the counter-melodies I am weaving the lives of those around you. There is so much music for you to hear. Isn't it wonderful?

'Tis.

deliver us from evil

Sometimes I dream that people I love die. Now, this is very disturbing for me (aside from the obvious reasons) but also because I have had dreams that have come true...and not in the Cinderella way. I have had dreams that have had spiritual, metaphorical, prophetic significance. And then I have dreams that are because I watched an odd movie.

And then I dream my fears. I dream in anxiety.

Two days this week I have had dreams that Chris is about to die. The first time he was going to be incinerated by a demon who was also hacking our bank account through overseas computer nerds (I know...very believable). Last night I dreamed that a flood and earthquake occurred in Fox Chapel, propelling our car into the air and sending us underwater as the overpass landed on top of us, keeping us from each other...and escaping to the surface. Both of these dreams awake me in a panic, to which I wake Chris up, and he tells me that I can tell him about the nightmare after I finish making the drinks for the last customers (apparently he's dreaming about Starbucks).

Today I found myself at work with a panic/anxiety that something was going to happen to Chris. Then it dawned on me: welcome Fowkes generational "anxiety disorder." Mental illness on the side of bipolar and anxiety runs in my mom's side of the family, and we're not ashamed to admit that. Sometimes naming a diagnosis provides a sense of relief.

"Worry, doubt, fear and despair are the enemies which slowly bring us down to the ground and turn us to dust before we die." ~Attributed to Douglas MacArthur

I refuse to succumb to a history of anxiety. This will not be a part of my life. I will not complacently sit by and allow the anxiety to take over my mind, to rule my thoughts. I will fight. I will pray. And I will remind myself that the Lord takes care of those who love him, that He is stronger than any generational curse, and that whatever comes, He is victorious.

NOTE: I am not making a grandiose statement stating "You can be healed if you have enough faith" and therefore implying if you haven't, you lack faith. I am also not implying that medication is a ruse. I know men and women of great faith who continue to struggle with disorders/diagnosis, and members of my own family who are able to function better because of medication.

I am saying that for me, my personal struggles and battles with mental illness, it was prayer and faith that saved me. And that helps when you continuously forget to take your Celexa. But that is my story. May it encourage to increase your faith, but not necessarily deter you from your path of healing.

Feet to walk, hands to pray

My second favorite hymn (that I can recall) is "Take my life and let it be." It catalogs the parts of a persons life and the dedication of their use to the Lord's service. Life is consecrated. Song sung for the Lord. Hands moving at love's impulse. The song reminds me that each limb and muscle that I've been given has a holy purpose, if I should choose to use them as such.

In an effort to be more healthy and green, I've encouraged myself to ditch the car and use the bike or walk when I can. My friend Jean gravitates more towards walking, justifying her opinion by saying "that's what the body was made to do: walk." So I decided to walk home from a friends: 4.5 miles. As I left her air conditioned living room, I lamented about my decision to make the trek, knowing the July heat would surely cause me to melt. Kristin's response: "Yeah, it can be uncomfortable...but then it's walking. You can keep walking."

A wise observation. A stop here and there to rehydrate, I kept walking, one foot in front of the other, until I reached home with just the balls of my feet slightly perturbed (they're now fine 45 mins later).

Going out on another limb (pun definitely intended), I have become frustrated with a lack of prayer. Of course, my frustration quickly falls on those around me. "No one wants to pray. They don't want talk to God. If I don't initiate, no one will. Fine, no one wants to join, then I'm not going to do it." That is a hypocritical argument. In the end, I will talk with Christ about what I did, not what I intended to do, and certainly not receive a pass when I attempt to blame others for my lack of follow thru.

The epistle Titus, chapter 2, encouraged me to shift my vantage point. So often I read the Bible and think, "Aha, so-and-so could use that verse." But the mercy of Christ prevailed, and He gently turned the microscope to my heart. Am I living a life that reflects the integrity and seriousness of the teaching of which I am so quick to preach? Am I seeking to live humbly, peacefully, and loving others? Am I living in this world with righteousness, wisdom, and devotion to God, all the while holding onto a hope of His final redemption of all creation? Am I encouraging others by setting an example? Or am I turning "whole families" from the Kingdom by pointing out the sin in them, that is also in me?

My hands do not move at the impulse of Thy love, but at the outburst of my own frustration.

But my hands were made to help, to heal, the hold. So as my feet learned that they could walk the streets of Pittsburgh in the heat, may my hands relearn their purpose. To touch the "untouchables" and hold the "unholy". May I pray for those hurt, bless those who curse. And may I pray forgiveness for myself, that "I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults."