Inner Healing

Right now, I'm out in California in a dorm room as I'm spending time with some kindred spirits before we begin a rather intense conference in the Pasadena area. For two days, I have been with friends (and moms) tackling the deep things of the human heart in relationships, betrayal, love, marriage, trust, family and future over lunch and pedicures. By now, I am what can best be described as emotionally wasted. And then tonight, my boyfriend calls to break up with me. "Our ministries [sorry, correction, apparently he said "callings." He wanted me to clarify. See disclaimer in comments.] are going in different directions... I think we have different theology... I hope I didn't ruin your weekend." Yep, you did. In the midst of feeling rather, well devastated, I am thinking about all that my friends and I have been talking about this weekend: How to live with an open heart.

In the past few months, you may have noticed that I've taken a few theology classes with Stephen Venable at the IHOPU. In sequential order: Mystical Life of Communion, Christology, Introduction to Biblical Doctrine, and Gospels and the Life of Christ. (I really recommend Stephen's classes, some of which you can watch online from IHOP.) In some ways, I feel like I've been meeting Jesus for the first time all over again.

When one begins to look at Jesus, not Christianity, not eschatology or theology, not the Pauline Epistles or the Torah, but Jesus, the Person, His life, His story, His emotions, His journey, you begin to see the disparity between the the supremacy Jesus, and everything else. I just keep thinking about that passage, "That in all things, He might have the preeminence." What does it mean when Jesus the Person has the first place in EVERYTHING? One of the things I love about this new Jesus I am meeting, (the real one whose acquaintance is based on His terms, not my stereotypes), is how He lived so fully and completely alive.

I've been meditating on Jesus in the midst of overwhelming emotions. I'm trying to learn what it means to give Him that first place; how to walk that out. I'm learning that with Jesus, there were no hindrances to the depth of His emotions, no self-defense walls, or self-preservation tactics. In this Jesus, we see how He takes on our frame, but in a way that we cannot conceive. He lives without all the blockages we associate with the human experience. Jesus radically redefines what being "human" really is.

Jesus, fully God and fully Man. The very image of the invisible God, manifested the Father loving fully and without restraint. He was without a doubt the most approachable Man ever. Learned scribes, pagan centurions, lepers, fisherman, prostitutes, wise men and children came to Him freely, confident they would be received. And when they were sent away by anyone else, this Jesus pursued them.

The pains of rejection cut to His very heart. He was moved - in groaning and longing - with compassion without embarrassment or shame. He openly wept, for Israel, for His disciples, and for His friends experiencing the agony of the death of Lazarus without fear of being "emotional." In righteous indignation He fashioned a whip and purged His Father's house.

He never worried about what people thought. He didn't have to. He didn't protect His reputation, He didn't defend Himself from the local rumor mill about His birth or His eating and drinking. He didn't push away friends He knew would leave Him alone in His final hours, instead He opened His heart fully, inviting them in to the longings of His heart at the last supper, showing immense vulnerability to a man who would deny Him, and agonizing before the Lord in their presence with tears like drops of blood. I could go on and on. Like that song by Jon Thurlow, "There's never been a Man that's so alive." A God-Man that was not afraid to experience the full spectrum of emotions, and by so placing His seal of Divine approval - sanctifying them forever.

And this is the one I have been united to in death, and raised in eternal life - one with this Man. This is what I am being transformed into, from glory to glory. Am I prepared to live so fully alive?

So here I sit, getting ready to go to bed with a bit of heaviness. and I go through a little "Living with an Open Heart" exercise:

1. What am I feeling? "A dull throb in my chest, and a tear slipping down my cheek. Again."

2. What am I smelling? "Nothing, my nose is clogged."

3. What am I tasting? "Salt"

4. What am I hearing? "Jesus, Broken, Poured out for Sinners..."

5. What am I seeing? "The glow of my laptop screen and a day in the distance when I won't feel quite like this."

But I am feeling, and my heart is opening and learning to feel without fear. And I ask that I may see the Jesus who wept when He heard of the death of Lazarus, and knew of the grief of Mary and Martha weeping for me now in my own trivial-it-may-be sorrow. And day by day and choice by choice I am transformed into His likeness. This Man, so alive has ushered in the era of the new humanity in which we are set free to be just like Him.

I've been leading worship at IHOP for 6 years now. Recently I took a break from my full-time worship leading schedule to pray about how to move forward. I don't have a lot of direction right now, but I feel like the Lord has been prompting me to start identifying the values He has placed in my heart. Sometimes when I feel a little lost, the Lord will send something my way to help me get back on track. Today, it was a download from Heather Clark entitled I Am Loved. Listen to it in the MUSIC section.

I'm inspired by: Heather Clark. A wife, a mother of four, a musician, singer, and songwriter, a dancer and an artist - and all at the same time. She doesn't suspend one expression of her heart to operate in another. She leads worship, will dance during it, paint and have her children join her onstage. And she doesn't seem to be afraid of being judged for it. She said once,

"I was talking with David Ruis when I was visiting in California. He was talking about the tribes of the earth that are experiencing revival and as we were talking I began to think about what I really believe about the glory of God and where it is found. It is found in healing, in demons being cast out, where salvation is being manifest, where the priests can’t stand to minister, but it’s also found in the face of the poor, in the relationship between a father and son where you see the father just cheering on his son. It is found at 3:00am when I am awake rocking my babies in my arms and pouring out my offering. For me worship is not compartmentalized - we worship here but not over there. No, for me the worship I display folding 6 people’s worth of laundry or cutting 80 little kid nails is just as beautiful and valid as the worship that I pour out on a stage for thousands of people. "

I feel like I'm friends with Heather even though we've never met. The Dark Yet Lovely album played constantly on repeat when I first came to IHOP in 2002, and I remember reading in the liner notes that she was inspired by Mike Bickle's Song of Solomon teaching: she just felt like family. And a song called "Price of Love" on a compilation absolutely wrecked me. "I have known the price of love. Given all I have for a moment's time with you. I have died a thousand times, and I have learned to be free."

What I'm learning about myself from what I see in Heather Clark: My life of worship is more than the sum of its parts, or my judgment of its worth.

My dilemma: I'm an extravagant worshiping artist on the inside, but I've become a pragmatic realist on the outside. I have given up many things that are in my heart because I thought they just weren't as valuable to the Lord.

Deep inside, I love creating art. Whether it's painting, sketching, photography, assembling collages with hidden and profound meaning (at least to me) or simply gazing at beauty and taking the time to encounter the Lord in these rare glimpses. My heart comes alive when I am faithful to simply be free to create without casting judgment, on myself or others.

But I have learned to tell myself that experiencing beauty isn't a priority, that it doesn't really matter. That there are many other "important" things to do instead of spending my time in a pile of glue and paper fragments making a collage that 3 people will understand.

I love singing spontaneously - pouring out my worship on the piano in songs that will never be written down. I love singing at the top of my lungs even if it doesn't sound so good. I love corporate worship leading and partnering with the Lord in ministering to people. I love the idea of the true priesthood - ministering to God, ministering to people.

I love that burning in my belly when I know there's a song from the Lord to sing. It usually isn't what I think it would be - all squeaky clean and refined - it's usually raw and piercing like a sword that separates soul from spirit. I usually don't sing it so well. It pulls me to pieces and demands that I come as I really am, not as I think I am or want to be - it places these demands on all within earshot. Heavenly spontaneous songs boldly confront lies in my heart, about God or about me, and require that I replace lies with truth, darkness with light. Whether that truth is disconcerting and uncomfortable or liberating and restorative. I usually wonder if I'm going to get in "trouble" for singing it. And too many times I resist singing out what I feel the Lord whispering, or sometimes thundering, for fear of judgment or rebuke. I love gaining revelation from singing. It happens every time I get into a "flow" - suddenly I understand more clearly what Jesus meant in a passage, what the Lord was doing in my life two months ago, or what the will of God for a present-day decision is. When this "spirit of revelation" comes, I love receiving of it. It's like food I continue to eat the rest of the week, chewing and digesting a weighty revelation.

But I have learned that there's a certain form that people are comfortable with, and I should just work within that framework. I've learned that another round of "Here I am to worship" is easier to read books to and is less disruptive. I have learned that many times we don't want to really hear what the spirit is saying, we just want to hum a nice melody.

If were liberated from the fear of man and fear of judgment, I would love to dance behind the keyboard. I would break out in a joyful twirl, stomping and clapping in a tribal dance and swaying from side to side in worship. I was a dancer when I was younger, ballet, and something about that never left my heart. I feel like a dancer, I look like a dancer, and if you catch me waiting in line at the grocery store, you could appreciate my turnout which I still default to when standing still.

When I'm in "heavenly places" before the Lord in prayer, I don't sing at Him; I dance. Sometimes when I'm alone at home, I'll pull out my toe shoes (that still fit by the way) put on some worship music and twirl around on the wood floors in the living room. And if you've ever caught me in a rare but free moment in the prayer room, I have braved the censure to extravagantly dance in the "dance square" - maybe for a moment or two if it was empty. I love pouring out my heart before the Lord; the raw, the vulnerable, the authentic, but all too quickly judgment sets it. Either my own judgment of myself, or the fear of being judged by somebody else. I wouldn't dance behind the keyboard, I'm too afraid of judgment. I hardy dance in my own house because I know that I'm really "not that good" at it.

Hearing from Heather inspires me to challenge these responses of fear and judgment. I see that she's found a liberty that I long to walk in. Not only do I long to, but I have been invited by the Lord Himself. I know that He's called me with an anointing that breaks the yoke. Unfortunately right now I just need to experience that first in my own life.

Sometimes I wish I could peer into that little book You’ve said You’ve already written for me. As I’ve always done with those suspense novels, I’d flip to the back and make sure everything turns out okay in the end. What I would do for that today. I saw a rainbow in the sky on my way here, and the remembrance of Your faithfulness washed over me like the cool breeze through this summer’s unrelenting heat. And what a precious promise it is. Today perhaps, more than others, I need the reminder: those multi-colored rays barely visible through the storm’s ominous front. I wish I could grasp it, to hold it in my hands, to wrap myself in a promise like a blanket, to hide in it until my doubts and fear and insecurities are washed clean. But it’s so ethereal. So…vapor. Faith, the belief that You ARE, and that You are a REWARDER of those that seek You.