A Rebirth of Sorts

A few days ago at about 8pm at night, I decided to clean my room. Before you continue reading, there are a few things that you should know when I get into a "cleaning mood":

1) It's incredibly hard for me to do work with a room that is untidy.
2) I find it easier to think when things are clean.
3) I feel a sense of accomplishment.

So, with all that said - I began to clean. I found items that I forgot I had - old high school yearbooks that flooded me with memories, books with notes that I had written in, and jewlery that I was searching for. A part of me felt like the widow who was looking for her one lost coin. She turned her entire house upside down in order to find it. (Luke 15: 8 - 10). Clothes that I hadn't worn in years were set aside in a laundry basket to give away to a nearby thrift store.  All throughout my cleaning escapades, the following thought crossed my mind:

"Cleaning is symbolic for the season that you are in. It represents a new chapter in your life and a future that God has planned out for you."

As a recent college graduate, many people have been asking me "What's next?" I feel like cleaning (physically and spiritually) is the "next" part of my life. We all have so much dirt and dust in our lives, that's it's clogging the pores on our skin, it's stunting our growth, and it's causing us to have distorted views of life. Sometimes, I feel that we get so accustomed to seeing things only one way, that we miss out on what James 1:17 says: "every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." 

I've recently been learning that the presents we "want" are not always packaged in the way that we would like them to be. In fact, I would argue that what we "need" is often what we miss out on the most. I've received more joy out of watching the same red headed woodpecker come to my birdfeeder the past two days then watching the next television program. I've taken more delight in observing astounding sunsets from my house than worrying about the next day.

In a way, you could say that I am maturing, but in another way - it feels like I have been cleaning out the windows of my soul. I've been scrubbing with windex and dusting with a cloth in order to put everything back in order. See, there is a specific place for my bed as there is for my desk. In a similiar way, God longs for everything to be put back in it's proper place. Paul says in Romans 8:22 that "we know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time". We are all giving birth to something new. We are a hurt and broken people who all share something in common that arises from the depths of our being - we long to see the world restored back to it's original design. God never intended for divorce but for marriages that would show the world a picture of himself; he never wanted murders but sought people to love their enemies. A new world is groaning within us that is unlike the one in which we are living in right now.

As a post grad, I see myself moving from a place of wanting "things" to being quite okay with waiting for them. The Bible encourages us to pray all the time but also when we find ourselves in these points of our lives. Matthew 6:8 says: "do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him." It's with this type of prayer and reflection that I am coming to terms with such a reality. My plans for my life have been laid aside in exchange for God's dreams and hopes to reign. Everyday, I see parts of my old self dying in order that Christ may rule within me. Romans 6: 5 -11 says:

"If we have been united with him like this in his death, we will certainly also be united with him in his resurrection. For we know that our old self was crucified with him  so that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin - because anyone who has died has been freed from sin. Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus."

In this season of Advent, where there are only 5 days until Christmas - let us pause and reflect. Let us think about what we are purchasing and ask if the item is something that we can live without (at least for a little while). I notice that during the holidays, we become so focused on money, buying, exchanging, purchasing, and wanting - that those things that are meant to be beautiful in the right rhythm with God actually become cheap and foggy.

May you take some time out of your day to stop and smell the flowers, to enjoy a cup of hot cocoa, to have a meal with friends, to smile at your neighbor, to talk to the person you've been holding a grudge against, to sing in the parking lot, to skip down the aisle at the supermarket. Embrace the innocence of childhood. Relive the memory of Jesus in a manger - born into extreme oppression under challenging historical circumstances.

Allow yourself to be "reborn again." Jesus conversed with Nicodemus on this topic during his time on earth:

"How can a man be born again when he is old?" Nicodemus asked. "Surely he cannot enter a second time into his mother's womb to be born!"

Jesus answered, "I tell you the truth, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless he is born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth ot flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit. You should not be surprised at my saying, "You must be born again. The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit."

As I clean, I am preparing for something new to arrive. Just like some of us are preparing for the new year and writing resolutions, I find myself trying to wrap my mind around a God that came to earth as a baby, gave his life up for me, hung on a cross, died, and rose from the dead so that I may live. This gift, the one that cannot be packaged in a box with a neat little bow, is the one that I've been waiting for my whole life. It's that one present that's left under the tree with my name carefully inscribed on it where I'm like

"Whoa."

Now, having the God of the universe know me by name: "Alexandra" - that's not something I would trade in after the holiday.

That's a keeper forever.

Home

Transitions.
Sun to stars.
Day to night.
Waking to sleeping.
Lunch to dinner.
Tadpole to frog.
Kindergarten to first grade.
High school to college.
College to graduation.
Graduating to a future
that's got the fingerprints of God all over it.
Yet sometimes, I see my fingerprints mixed in with his, too.
There are stages of my life
where I see more of his love than mine,
and more of his breath than mine.
Then, there are those times
that are far and few in between
where I see a mixture and cannot tell
if they are mine
or his.
This is the place I find myself in now.
A place of transition to myself and God,
to the "we" in a team of partners,
to the hands that are held together by the bonds from birth.
to the pair of footprints that are marked in the sand.
In the seasons, he is always there.
When I imitate the disciples lack of trust
in my storms raging on the seas,
he is there.
When I doubt or question,
he is there.
When I ask, "what next?"
he is there.
When I say I won't betray you
and do,
he is there.
I walk on a dark and uncertain path
and you light the way for me.
I cry bucketfuls of pain for a world so broken and
you weep alongside me.
With a touch of a finger,
you move the hair out my eyes and
gently caress my face.
You beckon me to stretch me out my hand to you,
and I obey.
You place a ring on my finger, give me a robe, and sandals for my feet.
I look up into your eyes
and realize
I am home.

(copyright by alex puleo 10.29.11)

Prodigal Promises

Come.
Watch.
Hear.
Listen.
His glorious favor spreads rainbows of promises
across the brazen sky;
a sky that quenches with thirst,
of brokenness and shattered lives.
Gray clouds stretch and loom overhead.
Suddenly,
the tears dry up,
the desert becomes fertile and fruitful,
and birds sing in octaves unknown to human ears.
Babes speak as water springs forth from a once barren land.
Neighbors understand each other
and speak the common language of love.
The mender takes a needle and sews the hearts
of the lost back together.
The guy and girl find their hope in Him;
they are betrothed to their Maker,
their Creator,
for eternity.
A love so tender,
so compassionate,
is His devotion to us.
I am His and He is mine.
The ring has been purchased.
The wedding has begun.
Red wine fills clear glasses,
as the host calls for a toast.
Let's feast!


(Copyright - Alex Puleo 10.4.11. This poem I wrote found it's inspiration in two places: The Prodigal God, by Tim Keller, and Psalm 66: 5 & 16: "Come and see what God has done, how awesome his works in man's behalf. . . Come and listen, all you who fear God; let me tell you what he has done for me.")

Break Your Jar

Lately, I have been reading and thinking a lot about the prophets in the Bible. Job and Jeremiah were sent to prophesy against the evil and idol worship in their city and were unbelievably persecuted for it. There comes a point in Job's lament where he curses the day he was born; thus, echoing Jeremiah's same cry for himself and the people he is interceding for. God sends Jeremiah to speak against the worship of false gods and the people do not want to hear this message. In a turn of events, the people that Jeremiah is praying for actually seek to take his life. They have now become his enemies.

But then, the most powerful part of this story climaxes when God tells Jeremiah to visit a potter. He tells him to purchase a clay jar, go to the Valley of Ben Hinnom, and hold the pot while proclaiming the Lord's message to his people. Through some research on the Valley of Ben Hinnom, I learned that it was actually a graveyard outside the city walls. It was a custom not to bury the Jewish people inside the city walls but rather outside of them. Parents often sacrificed their first born children here to the gods. Jeremiah is called to break the jar in front of everyone. So, this place seems pretty significant in that, Jeremiah is standing (literally) on a place of death and delivering a message of healing. It is counteractive. In a way, he is standing in the gap, in the tension and being God's spokesperson to bring heaven to earth. Jeremiah is bringing people back to a place where death once reigned and is saying "no more". In a way, releasing that jar is like releasing all of the hurt, the child sacrifices, the blood, and the killings in order to make a way for something new. Jeremiah says:

"God will smash this nation and this city just as this potter's jar is smashed and cannot be repaired."

I can physically picture this event happening. Jeremiah takes some of the elders with him as he goes to proclaim this message. This kind of reminds me of people going to a rock concert to hear a musician sing and, instead of singing and music, are suddenly told some powerful news about the musician's life.

Today, I read a passage in the book I Once Was Lost, that referenced Moses holding up the Rod of God. When Moses let his arm down, the battle turned.

"Seems simple enough. But what happens to Moses? He grows weary. At first his friends bring a rock for him to sit on. But even a seemingly simple activity like holding up your arm while seated becomes fatiguing with time. Eventually Aaron and Hur have to come and help Moses hold up his arm.

We, too, need to intercede for our friends. And we, too, need to be reminded not to stop. Not to grow weary. It might not be a bad idea to get an Aaron and Hur of our own - enlisting other people to uphold us as we uphold others at this spiritually intense time."

Jeremiah did not break his clay jar as a spectacle. He was not like the Pharisees who stood on street corners loudly proclaiming Jesus and making a show out of it only to glorify themselves. He did this out of the Holy Spirit's leading, out of genuine humility. And with this, he probably experienced some sort of questioning about God's ability to change things. Haven't we all asked at one time, "Are you sure you know what you are doing? What if this isn't the right way? What if I take this step and it's not what you have called me to?" Yet, when we finally do take that step of risk and of vulnerability, we see God at work - even if the outcome changes.

So all of this makes me ask:

1) Who are my elders or my Aaron(s) and Hur(s)?

2) What does my clay jar represent? What's in it? How would it feel to lift it above my head and break it? If I dared to invite such change into my life, what would it be like?

3) What am I being called to?

I firmly believe that we are all called to something. We all have a greater purpose for being here. This process will probably take some time, discernment, and trusted friends to help you talk through your concerns, fear, and hopes. But in this, know that you are supported and are loved, even as you stand up in the Valley of Ben Hinnom and break your jar in front of everyone to see. This countercultural act may seem bizarre in our world today. Yes, it's true that following the Spirit's leading may bring you to some unheard of or even mundane and simple places. But, it's in this journey that I find myself growing closer to God and seeing things from his perspective as I seek to follow him more and more everyday.

Release Your Balloon

Lately, I have been learning a lot about the word "discernment." At first, the word used to scare me because I could never wrap my mind around it. So while I've had (and continue to have) experience with it, the word itself has become less scary. In fact, it has taken on a certain measure of hope - a likeness revealing God that nothing else compares to.

Two years ago, I felt myself begin this "discernment" process. In some ways, it was almost like learning how to drive a car again without my parents. With it, came a sense of independence but also a sense of maturity, vulnerability, and great responsibility. It is in this place that I felt God really opening myself up to opportunities that I had never considered. To picture myself in such a role really began the influx of questions. God began to water the seed that he planted in me from long ago that I never knew was there and was just longing for water, sunlight, and some TLC. Psalm 139: 13 - 16 explains how intimately God knows me (and all of us) even before we were born.

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.

 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.

When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.

All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."

This weekend at church, a friend talked about the creativity of God. At this moment, I was reminded of a 2 hour silent retreat that I went on in the mountains of New Hampshire. Those who organized the trip distributed a paper to each of us - where one of the tips was to "allow God to be creative with you."

Dallas Willard writes about the creativity of God in his book, The Divine Conspiracy. He says:

"You will know this finding of soul and God is happening by an increased sense of who you are and a lessening of the feeling that you have to do this, that, and the other thing that befalls your lot in life. That harassing, hovering feeling of 'have to' largely comes from the vacuum of your soul, where you ought to be at home with your Father in his kingdom. As the vacuum is rightly filled, you will increasingly know that you do not have to do those things - even those that you want to do."

Even at my homegroup last night, one person shared this helpful analogy. He said to picture a kid that has a bunch of chalk and is told to go outside and draw. Now, give that same chalk to an adult and ask them to draw. They will probably be more concerned with what to draw, the details of the drawing, what others will think of it rather than the innocence and freedom that comes with the child who is told to go and draw whatever he wants.

Very recently, people have been speaking into my life about this very topic - discernment (and may not have realized it) through text messages from friends I haven't heard from in a while, conversations, and interactions. And, I've begun to experience and feel a sense of rightness and peace about my purpose in life. Ecclesiastes 3 says that:

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace."

For so long, I've tried to plan every facet of my life. And God is telling me to stop doing his job. To give all of my planning, hopes, and dreams over to him and his mighty hands. For those who have never experienced this before - it's hard to put into words. But, there is this sense of freedom that comes with releasing the balloon in the air, watching it make formations with the clouds that it never did when I was holding tightly onto it, and abandoning itself to a land greater than my own.

So, I do see myself (at this point in my life) as the balloon. I know that once I let go of all that I've been trying to control and plan - then God can work in my life. The rest, is a beautiful creation of the potter molding the clay, of Ebenezer's built to God, of a song sung completely out of tune yet sounding beautiful to my Maker's ears.

And all done with a heart of love, favor, and surrender to the Most High God.

A Sandbar Engagement

This summer, I have been learning a lot about discernment. One of the books that I have spent ample time reading is Abundant Simplicity by Jan Johnson. She told the story of a friend who encouraged her to:

"Write down every single responsibility and duty in your life. Obligations that are so important that you simply can't get out of them. When you are all done, cross out half of them."

Johnson then gets more specific. List everything you do for a month. Then rank each thing that you did in order:

1) essential
2) important but not essential
3) helpful but not necessary
4) other

Finally, eliminate all of the last two categories and 20% of the first two. While you are doing this, work through the two questions: What do I want? Why do I want that?

So, I did this exercise. And something that Johnson said repeatedly came back to me:

"Each of us in our friendship with God grows in discernment of what we are being drawn toward. We learn to live in this sense of peace to the point where we recognize it as soon as we're out of kilter and we've lost it."

She continues on to say that it takes discernment to know the point(s) in your life where "I'm done. I'm grateful I did this, but I'm done." In terms of service commitments, "focus all your efforts on considering what you want - what you really want - and ask yourself, what breaks my heart that breaks the heart of God? What tugs deeply at me?"

So, I made a list. And it took a while to really figure out everything that I do in a month. But once it came to crossing things off from the last two numbers, it was easy to see where my heart lies. But crossing off 20% of the first two really caused me to think about where I am honestly spending my time and energy - is it to gratify myself or to lift up others?

This huge issue of discernment, of "what next?" after college; has been an overarching theme in my life this summer along with vulnerability and risk. While reflecting on the items that I had listed and the moments in my life this summer where I was truly happy and fulfilled; my true identity is/was where Christ was being revealed. The layers that I had clothed myself with were slowly coming off due to the sweat of realization; to the fact that I need to follow - must follow the Holy Spirit's calling on my life or I will never be walking in my purpose.

This experience reminds me of the engagement party that is happening next door. There are many 20 somethings outside under a beautiful see-through tent in gorgeous dresses, handsome suits, enjoying the ocean view and the breeze. I sit inside glancing out my window wondering, "Will I ever experience this joy?" And, then I look straight ahead to the calm ocean, barely moving but beautiful with sandbars and aqua blue water. I am experiencing this joy. I am humbly reminded that someday, I will experience the joy of the celebratory party - but, if I am constantly focused on that - and completely disregard the calm beauty that lies before me, then I will miss it once it comes.

This is similar to discernment. If I am constantly focused on what I want to do but never once consider the work that God is already doing in my life, then I will miss the opportunities that lie right in front of me.

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Thank you Lord for this humble reminder. Thank you that you always bring me back to the cross. May your will be done in my life. As Ecclesiastes 3 says: there is a time and a season for everything. " May you give me the strength to pursue and to continue in walking with you for the rest of my life. Thank you for the blessings that you have given me today. May you give them also to someone else who is in need of them right now. Amen (or let it be so.)

Have You Seen the One My Heart Loves?

"All night long on my bed I looked for the one my heart loves;

I looked for him but did not find him.

I will get up now and go about the city, through its streets and squares;

I will search for the one my heart loves.

So I looked for him but did not find him.

The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city.

"Have you seen the one my heart loves?"

Scarcely I had passed them when I found the one my heart loves.

I held him and would not let him go till I had brought him to my mother's house,

to the room of the one who had conceived me.

Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field:

Do not arouse or awaken love before it so desires."

-Song of Songs 3:1-5

I think that many people often skip over this book in the Bible. It's images are so vivid, its words so true, and its language so pure. Yet, when I read this passage today, I saw it all in a different light. God searches for us in the same way that the lover searches for his beloved. God earnestly tries to find us and seeks us out. I am reminded of our first beginnings in Genesis, where following Adam and Eve's disobedience in the garden, they hid. God called out to them and asked "Where are you?" Their nakedness and shame left them exposed. Yet, God continued to search for them, admist their brokenness and heartache. He loved them.

So, I read and re-read over this passage again. And then, I replaced the phrase "have you seen the one my heart loves?" with my name "Alexandra." And it became so much more personal to me.

"All night long on my bed I looked for Alexandra;

I looked for Alexandra but did not find her.

I will get up now and go about the city, through its streets and squares;

I will search for Alexandra.

So I looked for Alexandra but did not find her.

The watchmen found me as they made their rounds in the city.

"Have you seen Alexandra?"

Scarcely I had passed them when I found Alexandra.

I held Alexandra and would not let her go till I had brought her to my mother's house,

to the room of the one who had conceived me.

Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field:

Do not arouse or awaken love before it so desires."

He loves us. He wants to know us. This type of relationship is not a Disney romance or a celebrity marriage. It is something much more. It is a symbol of unity, of togetherness, of oneness. God wants to be with us. and his love extends to every human being; regardless of past, race, gender, social status, location on the globe. He wants this type of relationship with all of us. In fact, it is needed. We just need to be willing to open ourselves up and see him the way he sees us - beautiful puzzle pieces brought together in a unique mosaic.

My Blessings

I've been doing a lot of reading lately. And one of the things that I've come across numerous times, is "blessings." In the book, The Good and Beautiful God by James Bryan Smith, he talks about the importance of recognizing the blessings that are already present in our lives. All too often, we are consumed with "wanting more" that we miss out on what is already in front of us. One of his experiments is to list your blessings. So, I gave it a try. Here is my list.

*cool 75 degree summer days
*light chatter/laughter surrounding the table during a meal at homegroup
*when the music stops at church and people sing acappella
*the smell of rain and freshly cut grass
*the sound of rain hitting the roof
*the sound of bicycle tires on the pavement during the summer
*summer breeze
*walking barefoot in the sand
*cold ocean water
*sleeping in
*watching my cats sleep
*birds singing
*boats on the water
*July 4th fireworks
*jazz music
*cooking and sharing a meal together
*dance
*shadows and light between trees
*thoughtfulness
*clouds
*mango sorbet
*vegan chocolate chips
*the color blue
*a robin standing on an old porch
*an Italian meal of pasta and garlic bread
*zinnias
*ice cold lemonade in a glass pitcher
*vacations: "having nothing to do and all day to do it in."
*old trees
*historic buildings
*the city
*hugs
*unexpected happy surprises
*the warm sunshine on a spring day
*June 21
*leaves hanging off a branch
*peanut butter and banana sandwiches
*sunsets and sunrises
*a flower behind a guy's back before he gives it to a girl
*sleep
*the smell of a new notebook
*old bookstores
*handwritten letters
*calligraphy
*stillness
*sound of a guitar outside
*leaves changing color in the fall
*students going back to school
*poetry
*plaid shirts
*antique car shows at A & W
*rootbeer
*real peppermint
*handmade bracelets
*street performers and musicians in New Orleans
*a couple holding hands

(this list goes on and on! take some time to make your own and watch it grow. take comfort in knowing that you are already blessed.)

Drinking Coffee Out of an Espresso Cup

Today, I tried something new. Iced coffee! The moment that drink made contact with my lips, a huge smile spread across my face. This was really good! Very quickly, my small espresso cup became empty and I longed for more. And then the thought crossed my mind: Why did it take me so long to try it?

Was it because for me, its a symbol of adulthood? That, once you drink coffee you are automatically accepted into a new group of coffee drinking friends and family? Was I just ready to try something new? To take a step off of that diving board and leap into an unknown world, full of open doors and beautiful opportunities? Could it be simply because I was just too comfortable with my familiarity, with smoothies, with the sweet taste that the fruit made when blended together? Was the uncomfortability of stepping into the unknown bigger than saying "Yes, I'll try it."?

To some, these thoughts may seem analytical. But to me, sipping coffee from an espresso cup, I was invited to risk. I had found myself waiting behind a barrier that I put up, to protect me from trying something new. Yet, the words:

"There is no room in the Christian tradition for a doctrine of safety"

took on new meaning. Through the Holy Spirit, I finally understood that I was "safe" with just sticking to what I knew. But in that, I was limiting the areas of my life where new flowers had the potential to grow and bloom. If I couldn't be faithful in taking a risk and trying some coffee, how could I listen to the false belief that I simply "didn't like it"?

It is easy to feel safe in our society. We have house keys, cars with automatic locks, police officers, air conditioners to protect us from heat exhaustion, seat belts, traffic lights, medicine, etc. It's not that all of these things are unnecessary; but rather, sometimes we allow safety to take control of our lives.

In Christianity, there is always risk involved. There is risk in loving someone. For if we expose our true feelings and they do not feel the same way, then our perception of ourselves and the situation is warped. Yet we continue to love again, to risk.

Why?

I think that there is an innate part inside all of us that longs for something greater outside the walls of safety. Don't get me wrong. There is risk that is just plain stupid and requires common sense. But then, there is risk in knowing that someone (greater than yourself) will protect you and allow you to learn if you let him in.

Rob Bell talks about "safety" in his book, Jesus Wants to Save Christians. At one point, he mentions the US spending billions of dollars on safety equipment (ie: weapons) in order to keep the American people safe.

He references the Old Testament and the Egyptians. Even Paul writes in Phillipians 2:12-14 to "continue to work out your salvation. . . to do everything without complaining or arguing..." Working out our salvation, showing the world a picture of who God is in one that is so consumed with the idea of safety is very challenging. It's a risk in itself. It's failing, getting up again, and continuing to walk. Just like when Jesus carried his own cross on his back and people all around him were spitting and shouting hurtful words; Jesus commands us to "take up your cross and follow me." We are called to walk on water with Jesus, just like Peter did. To take a step out of the boat, look at him straight in the eyes and begin our journey towards him. 

So, I think the ultimate question for me (and maybe you) is this: Will I continue to sit in my "safety zone" or trust and believe that I am already made safe with my creator, God?

An Experiment in Silence

For the past two days, I have been living simply. I say this not out of pride but out of humble acceptance of God's grace. My life up to this point had been filled with unnecessary clutter. It took a couple of days at my family's beachhouse without a phone and a computer to realize this. And it was in moments of sitting on the porch watching the boats in the water, standing outside listening to the birds sing their songs, sitting in front of a fan reading, cooking meals with my family, and taking some much needed naps, that God spoke to me.

Jesus humbled me. He showed me that all of these material things were taking precedence over spending time with him. When I actually followed through with this discipline, I learned more about myself and God's purposes for me in  the world. I was no longer concerned with Facebook notifications of other people's opinions about me, but was drawn to Jesus' humble attitude and servanthood. What made Him so compelling? What was it about Him that caused so many people to leave everything and follow Him?

This weekend, I experienced what one of the twelve disciples  might have felt when they heard Jesus call their name [insert your name here] to follow him. It was a call to combat the old self, to leave old habits behind and embrace a new, more fulfilling and fruitful life.

In the book, Abundant Simplicity, author Jan Johnson talks about the importance of living simple lives. They are not lives devoid of fun and adventure, but rather, lives rich with meaning and beauty. While reading, I felt his spirit telling me to try one of the small experiments that accompanies the end of each chapter. It invited me not to talk for a period of time and really listen to what others had to say. So, I gave this a try.

And I noticed that when I really listened with my ears and my heart (sounds cliche, I know), that he had been speaking to me already. When one of my family members was talking, I noticed that I reallly enjoyed listening. For 20 minutes, I was silent and when I wanted to offer my opinion, I didn't until I was acknowledged. I learned to appreciate what others said and felt accepted regardless of whether I had something to contribute to the conversation. However, after 20 minutes, I noticed that the need to remain busy resurfaced. After I settled down in my chair again, and began listening, my heart softened for the people around the table. I understood that community is not always about talking but its always about simply listening. I think it's in these moments that we truly begin to understand the need for simplicity and embrace such practices in our daily lives. The Gospel writers frequently depict Jesus "going off to a solitary place to pray." Since he both human and God, I'm sure he experienced the inner battle of wanting to remain in the crowds to witness to them but also of briefly leaving for a period of time and meeting with His Heavenly father to listen.

So, I wonder if I tried intentionally listening like this for a week, how my life would be different. How might it change when my focus is clearly off of myself and on God?  Yes, this method may seem a little extreme for some, but I think there is a part of all of us that need to have this moment of silence everyday in our lives.

I challenge you to try this experiment this week. Really try it. Carve out a point in your day to listen for 30 minutes, an hour, or even go silent for a whole day. Then post a comment here to share how it went.

Remember, we all fall short. But, the pieces have already been picked up and Jesus has won. May you take comfort in knowing that you are part of a greater family, a community that has been made new and baptized by His love, grace, and power. May you experience this in the coming week.