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God is Enough
This essay is from Sally Manhard, a friend and guest blogger. A few weeks ago she came up to me at church to tell me this story and I asked her to write it so I could share it with you. I’m overjoyed to hear these stories of how God works in our lives when we open our hearts to hear and see that God is enough…
God is alive and active in our lives. My husband and I have just returned from six months in Niamey, Niger, West Africa. I would like to tell you how our going to Niger happened and share a great story of God speaking to our lives.
Elgin and I like to get out of Minnesota in the winter 
so in February 2011 we travelled to Florida where it is warmer – and where there are wonderful state parks for us to stay in our camper van – our home away from home.
Because we left in February we were missing an important faith time for us – Lent. Much to our delight we discovered that Janet Hagberg was doing an online Lenten devotional that we could participate in. Her theme was “God is Enough” – based on the life and ministry of Teresa of Avila.
For several years now we have used our camper van time as a chance for us to process and plan pieces of our life. In 2011 we were discussing how we wanted to celebrate 50 years of marriage in July 2012. That got us reflecting on our life and experiences we had shared that had deepened our faith and our marriage. We were wishing God would “call” us to something that would show us more of his activity in our lives. We thought that would be a great way to celebrate our 50 years.
The next day God answered our prayer with an email from Wycliffe Associates about upcoming volunteer opportunities! So we decided to see what was available and thus we started our faith journey of “following Jesus” to Africa.
Because this “call” of God’s was filled with so many unknowns, we decided to use Janet’s theme – God is Enough – as our guide. I must say I wasn’t all that sure what “God is Enough” meant but it felt like this might be one of those times when our usual way of living life would change and we would be looking for and depending on God’s presence and help.
You must appreciate God’s sense of humor here, calling two “older” adults to one of the hottest, poorest countries on earth. The job description said we needed to speak French, so we spent the summer on Rosetta Stone. We appreciate Rosetta Stone as a great language tool but it did not make us fluent in French. Even this did not deter God, who didn’t disqualify us even though we were old and we couldn’t speak French. Without the language, though, our job choices changed and we were left with the option of “undefined jobs.”
In some ways the undefined work and the lack of French were gifts because we decided we were working for God and that meant we would do – whatever! And “whatever” is what we did – much of it unimportant busy work – but in the process we developed some endearing relationships and experiences that were priceless. Not knowing exactly what any day was going to look like left us open, and dependent on God for “direction.”
The learning in this for us was that God is enough! What that meant for us was that God does provide – often through others- but only enough for a short time – which kept us looking to Him each day for those six months of our lives.
This is so different from our life in Minnesota where we have a tendency to take charge of our own lives, because we think we know what we need. In Niamey we didn’t always know what we needed but God must have known because he provided and kept providing – enough manna for each day.
With God’s presence and provision, Niamey, Niger was a wonderful faith growing experience for us. God wanted to be sure we understood, it was He who was providing for us.
The next part of the story shows how this amazing God was even more deeply active in our lives. Our church in Niamey was the Niamey English Worship Service. On our last Sunday before we came back to the United States the speaker talked about growing through dark or difficult times and to illustrate how growing through hard times is actually a way faith grows, he put up a slide taken from the book The Critical Journey, co-authored by – you guessed it – Janet Hagberg and Robert Guelich! By having Janet at the beginning of this journey and then again at the end, we believe God was saying, “I was with you as you began this journey, I’ve been with you the whole time, and now I’m showing you that I’m still with you!”
We are very grateful for all the ways we saw God in Africa. But knowing that God would provide a companion like Janet to remind us He was with us, was a special way of God showing us that He is alive and active in our lives.
Reflections on this essay:
When have you prayed and experienced an invitation shortly afterwards?
When has God asked you to go forward even though you weren’t exactly qualified?
How do you experience God as “enough?”
How does God provide for your everyday needs and your heart’s desires even when you don’t know exactly what they are?
What companions has God sent along on your journey to remind you of God’s presence?
Shocking Me into New Directions
We can all recall times when a seemingly small but emotionally charged incident made a big change in our lives. It is like coming to an invisible corner in the road and being clearly nudged in a new direction. Sometimes the incident, though charged at the moment can only be seen for its transforming quality months later. At other times the incident involves a coincidence that is so amazing we recognize it immediately and can laugh with the recognition that only God could pull off something like this.
I had one of those emotionally charged incidents inside a prison. This incident changed the direction of my life and the way I perceived the world, though I didn’t know it at the time. I just knew it was big. I was at a weekend retreat devoted to understanding and experiencing God’s unconditional love for us. I had chosen to be a participant alongside the insiders, the women inmates, so I was sitting at a table with three inmates and a group leader. It was the first evening of the retreat so we were all a bit anxious about what we were getting ourselves into.
At the time I was a new spiritual director. I had been coming to the women’s prison for a few years with a small group of people from my church to do a poetry group. In the group, we all chose a book of poetry out of a big box and read a poem that spoke to us. It was a good experience and I was gratified to see that the women who attended seemed to be receiving support from the group as a result of reading these poems. Their lives seemed sad and, at times, tragic and I was drawn to keep attending this group because they were so faithful to it. So I was eager to see if this new experience, this retreat, was anything I could be part of as a leader in the future. But first I had to experience it.
I turned to the woman next to me, a dark haired, bright eyed, startlingly attractive young woman and asked her name. I wondered if she was an inmate or the table leader. She said her name was Janet. “Hey,” I said, “That’s my name too. I don’t meet a lot of Janet’s around.” She said she didn’t either and I felt instant rapport with her. “So,” I said, “What’s your middle name?” “Marie,” she responded. “Well, what a coincidence,” I retorted, “My middle name is Marie too. What are the odds of that?” We both laughed. This was getting interesting.
We couldn’t stop there. “So, what’s your last name?” I asked. She had an unusual last name so we joked that the odds were way too high that we would have the same last name. Something prompted me to ask her maiden name. When she told me I may have audibly gasped. She and I had the exact same maiden names. This was more than coincidence. It was a trademark of God’s sense of humor, to get my instant attention and show me something… but what?
This incident stunned me. I also found out she was, indeed, an inmate. It turned out to be the beginning of a long relationship between us. But at the time I have to admit that I still had stereotypes of women in prison, even though I had been coming there for a couple of years. She broke my stereotyped mold, just by who she was; her flair, her beauty, her quick wit, her intelligence. She had my attention.
The deeper truth beyond the stereotype is that I identified with her immediately and I could see how similar she was to friends of mine. I could even see a bit of myself in her personality. How could this be? I had never met a woman in prison who I thought was like me before and I had to conclude that it was possible. Now I know that, given the right circumstances I could end up in prison, any of us could, but I had not thought of that before. There have been a few times in my life I was so backed up against the wall I could have reacted with violence. Now this was coming home to me.
Janet and I shared the same name but we were sisters in more ways than one.
This startling incident and my subsequent revelations of our similarities led me to continue to do work at the prison and I began volunteering as a spiritual director. I saw my new friend, Janet, twice a month for the next eight years and we had an amazing relationship. I walked with her through some of the most excruciating experiences of her life and she taught me important lessons about what matters most in a relationship. One day when I came to see her she said, “Do you know what I like most about you, Janet?” “No,” I laughed, wondering what she was about to say. “What do you like about me?” “Well,’ she said, “You come out here even when it snows.” It was one of the highest compliments I had ever had from a friend. I think she meant I cared about her enough not to let the weather be an excuse to skip our session, since I had to drive a considerable distance to get the prison.
I am forever indebted to her for being in my life. I think of those years of work with women in prison as a different form of higher education. They taught me about survival, friendship, abuse, candor, generosity and faithfulness.
God is probably still chuckling a bit recalling how all those strings got pulled so I got to sit next to Janet Marie that evening at the retreat. Nice work, God.
© Janet O. Hagberg, 2009. All rights reserved.
Reflections on this essay
When have you had an emotionally charged incident that changed a direction in your life, either positively or negatively?
How was the incident, in retrospect, something you needed in order to grow?
How was God involved in this incident, then and now as you reflect?
How have you broken down stereotypes of people you thought were different from you?
When have you been aware that you could do something violent and it scared you or awakened you?
When have you met someone who you had more in common with than was comfortable for you?
God Smiles
I say hang on
God says let go
I say I’m afraid
God says I know
I say my way
He says fine
I say it doesn’t work
She smiles now mine
I say now your way
God says through pain
I say no painless
He says in vain
I say lead me on
God says through the night
I say I’m afraid
She says that’s all right
I say I let go
He says you got through
I smile I’m not afraid
God smiles too
©Janet O. Hagberg, 1987, 2006
Reflections on this poem
How do you give your fears to God?
What do you recall about doing things your own way and having them collapse?
How has God invited you to go through the pain of the night?
How has it changed you?
Recall how you and God smile at one another.
For a small book of these poems go to my web site www.janethagberg.com
The Sheer Joy of God’s Humor
Ah, God’s humor. The closer I get to God the funnier I think God is. God‘s humor can be quite complex—or very simple. Sometimes I can only appreciate God’s complex humor in retrospect, like when I’m trying to pursue a life stance that does not fit me anymore and everything falls apart and I finally go to God asking for help and the response is, “HELLO… hello there. I’ve wondered when you would be ready to hear what I have for you that is life-giving.” Only after I’ve seen how hard I was trying to avoid change and also avoid God’s largess for me do I see how God must have been chuckling, gently waiting for me to come to the end of my own efforts. Kind of like watching me try to find my way out of a maze with no outlets when all the time there was a labyrinth available whose sole purpose is to bring me on a secure circling path to God.
Other times God’s humor is simple and things happen that bring sheer joy and laughter. This is not the kind of humor that our culture enjoys, like making mother’s-in-law or people from Iowa look bad or catching people in embarrassing incidents. God’s humor is the sacred and simple kind that I feel when I know that God is here, making connections, being a wise guy in the best sense. I will share a few of these simple God moments, hoping that you will see a few of God’s imprints on your own life.
Just a few weeks ago a friend of mine, a spiritual soul friend, told me that he felt grateful for our companionship. He expressed thankfulness that we understand one another’s spiritual journey and the way it plays out in our lives. I agreed wholeheartedly since he is one of my best work colleagues and friends. He said our relationship reminded him of St. Francis and Clare of Assisi, who were spiritual soul mates several centuries ago. I was deeply moved because I had visited Assisi in the gentle hills of Italy and I not only loved this quaint and spiritual place but I was struck with the story of how much St. Francis and Clare helped one another in their lives and work. I left the meeting with my friend feeling grateful and blessed.
The next day, one of my other friends who does not know the soul friend I was talking with, but who is also a dear friend and spiritual director, brought me a quote from a daily spiritual guide she is reading. The guide contains quotes from a host of spiritual women mystics. She had one particular quote in mind that talked about being more connected with the marginalized in society and living more simply. It moved me deeply because it spoke of the work I am called to do. One part of the quote was particularly meaningful. “The Lord only promises the kingdom of heaven to the poor. That’s because anyone who loves temporary material blessings loses the fruits of love.” This quote was from the letters of Clare of Assisi. The woman I just claimed as my model. Sheer joy. God’s humor.
Another example is a dream I had in the middle of my attempt to sell my condo and move to a simpler life. I was discouraged and had heard from God, in prayer, that I should cease my efforts. A few days later I had a dream in which I was in my condo and it started moving. I found out my condo was on top of a large pick-up truck driving me to another location. A mysterious holy essence was driving the truck. I felt that God was telling me that I was not in charge but that we were already moving inwardly, not outwardly. The message was; just relax. More simple humor.
Money can be a source of anxiety for me, even though I know God is always watching over my finances. Sometimes I just need more reassurance. Know the feeling? So I periodically ask God for a little sign that all is well and that I am going to be OK. Invariably I find a coin in an unusual place, like in a windowsill or in a potted plant, or I find several coins in an unusual formation, like a circle in the street. Or I will get a totally unexpected check in the mail just to reassure me that God is aware of my fears and will provide. Each time one of these gifts appear I just smile. Sometimes I laugh out loud, like when the check is for the exact amount of money to cover an emergency expenditure on my car. Sheer joy. I love the feeling, that divine humor is at work.
One of my friends was praying earnestly for a consulting job that would make use of his best gifts. The very day he began praying he got a call from a client and he was off and running on a large project he loved. The next morning in prayer he laughingly said to God, “Never mind.” It reminded him of the Gilda Radner character on the humor show, Laugh In, for those who remember her or watch reruns. She would go on and on about a subject emphatically stating her point of view. Someone would interrupt her to say the issue had been solved or they would inject a fact that proved her wrong. She would pause and then say, in a high screechy voice, “Never mind.”
Any of these things could just be coincidences but when they happen over and over—and when they are connected to a deep longing and connection to God they may be more than coincidence. One of my spiritual directors said that coincidences are just God’s way of remaining anonymous. The thing for me to do then, is to remember. Notice. Stop. Be grateful. Smile. Feel the joy. Thank God.
©Janet O. Hagberg, 2009. All rights reserved.
Reflections on this essay
When have you experienced God’s humor?
How did you recognize it was God?
What reassurances do you ask God for?
What coincidences are you most grateful for?
What humorous thing is God doing in your life now?
God and My Brass Bed
On my journey of becoming smaller and simpler, I’ve noticed that God has a gentle way of pointing out what I need to release. It is usually something I am clinging to. It’s not that God makes me release things I love, but I can see that the things I cling to are usually related to status, security, ego or fear. And what do I receive when I release them? More intimacy with God. more interior freedom and even joy. My visual image of this process is that God wanders around my condo—and my psyche—looking for the items I need to relinquish and then points to them with a mischievous grin.
My beautiful and expensive brass bed is one example. It is such a lovely bed, with a lily pattern at both the foot and the head of the bed. I love this bed and I made a special quilt for it using a quilt top my grandmother started in the 1930s. This bed also has some poignant memories since it was my marriage bed for a dozen years during an especially transformative time of sorting out and healing. So this bed carries a lot of memories and stories for me.
As part of my simplifying I was considering a move to a smaller apartment and I realized that I may not have room for my queen sized bed. I felt dismay at first because I did not want to feel diminished in this move. But then I prayed about this and decided to let the process proceed and see what happened. It seemed to me that God was raising this issue of my bed with something else in mind, like a new way to think about my home and belongings. I had no idea how to sell it or who would buy it in a time of deep financial stress in the county.
One of my twenty-something friends, Heather, was at my condo for tea before the holidays and it suddenly occurred to me that she might be a perfect match for my bed. She was in law school and her apartment was not completely furnished. In fact, she and her fiance were sleeping on a mattress on the floor. So I casually mentioned to her that I might be letting the bed go when I moved. I asked her if she would want it. Her eyes lit up and she looked at me in surprise. “You’re serious? Really? You’d just give it to me?” I said I really meant it. I told her to think about it since she lived in another city and the bed would not be easy to transport.
I said I would give it to her but asked her to consider paying it forward by helping a refugee friend of mine, from Uganda, buy a plane ticket for her youngest son to join her in America. My friend had to flee the country after being tortured and now she wanted to reunite with her children.
Heather readily agreed to pay it forward and the deal was struck. Then things started speeding up. She called a few days later confirming that she and her fiance would love to have my bed and that they were going to be back in my city in a month. I was startled. That was three months earlier than I had planned. A little shock wave went through me. Was I really ready to let go of this lovely bed? It felt like a little divine joke on me and I realized that God was masterminding the process now. So I tried sleeping on my day bed, the bed I would be using instead of my brass bed, just to see how it would feel. It was a much smaller bed and I would be sleeping with my back against the headboard, a whole new experience. It also felt so permanent. But to my surprise, it did not feel as weird as I had imagined. I was going to be OK.
When Heather’s fiancé, Ben, came to pick up the bed he had two friends with him. (I just love this part of the story). The young woman just happened to work for a non-profit organization that helped homeless people find housing and furniture, including beds. When she saw my mattresses she asked me what I was planning to do with them. I had no idea. She said they could use them immediately! So that day my bed went to Heather and Ben and the next week my mattresses went to a homeless man who Heather’s friend had been working with to find a bed.
After a few weeks of sleeping in my day bed I felt kind of cuddly leaning my back against the headboard and I began to think of this as an adventure. Leaning on the headboard gave me a sense of security before going to sleep. And my bedroom looked spacious, with room to spare. It would easily accommodate my desk if I moved into a one-bedroom apartment. So I knew I could move into a smaller space and be happy. And, to my surprise, the lovely quilt worked just fine on my new bed.
When I had a chance to reflect on this whole experience, I couldn’t imagine making any other decision, even though it was hard at first. I had released what I was clinging to, the bed and the memories that were associated with that bed. My friend, Heather and her fiance would have the joy of a beautiful brass bed. My friend from Uganda could bring her son to the US. And a man who had been homeless for twenty years would have a bed of his own. That made me wonder how I could have held onto that bed for as long as I did. Imagine if I had never released it?
And now I am watching God wander around my condo again. I notice God’s pace slowing at my dining room table and chairs, and there is that mischievous grin again. Oh, oh, I think I can tell what my next assignment is going to be.
© Janet O. Hagberg, 2009. All rights reserved.
Reflections on this essay
What are you holding onto that you need to release?
What memories does it/they have for you?
What will you gain when you release this?
Do you feel diminished or enriched when you release things you are clinging to?
Who will benefit from your giving?
What surprises you about this release—or even thinking about releasing something?
Shocking Me into New Directions
We can all recall times when a seemingly small but emotionally charged incident made a big change in our lives. It is like coming to an invisible corner in the road and being clearly nudged in a new direction. Sometimes the incident, though charged at the moment can only be seen for its transforming quality months later. At other times the incident involves a coincidence that is so amazing we recognize it immediately and can laugh with the recognition that only God could pull off something like this.
I had one of those emotionally charged incidents inside a prison. This incident changed the direction of my life and the way I perceived the world, though I didn’t know it at the time. I just knew it was big. I was at a weekend retreat devoted to understanding and experiencing God’s unconditional love for us. I had chosen to be a participant alongside the insiders, the women inmates, so I was sitting at a table with three inmates and a group leader. It was the first evening of the retreat so we were all a bit anxious about what we were getting ourselves into.
At the time I was a new spiritual director. I had been coming to the women’s prison with a small group of people from my church for a few years to do a poetry group. In the group, we all chose a book of poetry out of a big box and read a poem that spoke to us. It was a good experience and I was gratified to see that the women who attended seemed to be receiving support from the group by reading these poems. Their lives seemed sad and, at times, tragic and I was drawn to keep attending this group because they were so faithful to it. So I was eager to see if this new experience, this retreat, was anything I could be part of as a leader in the future. But first I had to experience it.
I turned to the woman next to me, a dark haired, bright eyed, startlingly attractive young woman and asked her name. I wondered if she was an inmate or the table leader. She said her name was Janet. “Hey,” I said, “That’s my name too. I don’t meet a lot of Janet’s around.” She said she didn’t either and I felt instant rapport with her. “So,” I said, “What’s your middle name?” “Marie,” she responded. “Well, what a coincidence,” I retorted, “My middle name is Marie too. What are the odds of that?” We both laughed. This was getting interesting.
We couldn’t stop there. “So, what’s your last name?” I asked. She had an unusual last name so we joked that the odds were way too high that we would have the same last name. Something prompted me to ask her maiden name. When she told me I may have audibly gasped. She and I had the exact same maiden names. This was more than coincidence. It was a trademark of God’s sense of humor, to get my instant attention and show me something… but what?
This incident stunned me. I also found out she was, indeed, an inmate. It turned out to be the beginning of a long relationship between us. But at the time I have to admit that I still had stereotypes of women in prison, even though I had been coming there for a couple of years. She broke my stereotyped mold, just by who she was; her flair, her beauty, her quick wit, her intelligence. She had my attention.
The deeper truth beyond the stereotype is that I identified with her immediately and I could see how similar she was to friends of mine. I could even see a bit of myself in her personality. How could this be? I had never met a woman in prison who I thought was like me before and I had to conclude that it was possible. Now I know that, given the right circumstances I could end up in prison, any of us could, but I had not thought of that before. There have been a few times in my life I was so backed up against the wall I could have reacted with violence. Now this was coming home to me.
Janet and I shared the same name but we were sisters in more ways than one.
This startling incident and my subsequent revelations of our similarities led me to continue to do work at the prison and I began volunteering as a spiritual director. I saw my new friend, Janet, twice a month for the next eight years and we had an amazing relationship. I walked with her through some of the most excruciating experiences of her life and she taught me important lessons about what matters most in a relationship. One day when I came to see her she said, “Do you know what I like most about you, Janet?” “No,” I laughed, wondering what she was about to say. “What do you like about me?” “Well,’ she said, “You come out here even when it snows.” It was one of the highest compliments I had ever had from a friend. I think she meant I cared about her enough not to let the weather be an excuse to skip our session, since I had to drive a considerable distance to get the prison.
I am forever indebted to her for being in my life. I think of those years of work with women in prison as a different form of higher education. They taught me about survival, friendship, abuse, candor, generosity and faithfulness.
God is probably still chuckling a bit recalling how all those strings got pulled so I got to sit next to Janet Marie that evening at the retreat. Nice work, God.
© Janet O. Hagberg, 2009. All rights reserved.
Reflections on this essay
When have you had an emotionally charged incident that changed a direction in your life, either positively or negatively?
How was the incident, in retrospect, something you needed in order to grow?
How was God involved in this incident, then and now as you reflect?
How have you broken down stereotypes of people you thought were different from you?
When have you been aware that you could do something violent and it scared you or awakened you?
When have you met someone who you had more in common with than was comfortable for you?
A Reluctant Healer: Please Don’t Do That To Me Again
Recently I received an email from a woman who said she would like to see me in spiritual direction because she was at the “wall.” She had read my book in which I described the wall and she identified strongly with it. I have committed to working primarily with people at the wall so I told her I would pray about her request and get back to her. The wall is a difficult but holy place in which we come face to face with God’s deep healing power and the release of all that has separated us from God. It is a dark and lonely place at times but it is precisely in this dark place that we are most likely to find God.
As I prayed about seeing this woman, God gave me a strong yes to her request and added, almost as an after thought, “And I want you to wash her feet.” I said “What? I’ve never done that before.” I figured it must be a metaphor. I shrugged it off, and emailed the woman to set up an appointment.
When she arrived she was grateful for my willingness to see her and sincere in her desire to heal. She was ready to engage with the wall, to find God’s healing there and to do whatever it took to move with God’s spirit and call in her life. I sensed early in our session that we would work well together.
Even so, her story of childhood abuse, at the hands of her older brother and his friends, for ten years was horrendous. She had already done a lot of therapeutic work on the abuse so she could talk about it coherently but it was still deeply sobering. We both cried for her lost childhood. She even had an understanding of why her brother was so calloused. He was born in the midst of her mother’s deep depression following the loss of twin babies and he and his mother never bonded. This did not excuse him but helped my client understand that the abuse was not her fault.
She related a few distinct memories to me, which have stayed with her. One was of Jesus appearing to her while she lay crying between some hay bales in the barn, after one of the abusive episodes. Jesus said she could come home with him then, or if she chose to stay here, he would give her meaningful work in her career that would arise out of her pain. She chose to stay. Jesus fulfilled his promise to her.
The other memory was more difficult. When she was ten she needed to have foot surgery or she would be unable to walk. Her brother told her he heard their parents saying the medical costs of her care were too high so they were going to have the surgeon cut off her feet. She was petrified. During surgery she either woke up or imagined she heard a saw cutting off her feet. The moment she awoke from surgery she checked to see if her toes were still there. They were. But the memory is encased in her cells. Every time a friend has any foot problems, she quickly checks to make sure their toes are in tact. As I heard this story about her feet, you can imagine what I was thinking! God already knew her story and was preparing me in advance for my part in the healing. At the end of our session I told her the story of what God had told me to do with her—wash her feet. Heal her memories. We both cried over the loving and healing potential of our work together. And I asked her to tell me when she was ready for me to wash her feet. I was grateful and, honestly, a bit dazed by the holiness of it.
This experience reminded me of a story that the great preacher, George Buttrick, told of a routine visit he made to a woman in the hospital at the end of a busy and tiring day. He wanted to see her, get out, and get home. As he spoke with her and asked about her health she asked him to pray for her. He uttered what he thought was a perfunctory prayer and was ready to leave. But she restrained him, ”Pastor, I’m feeling better already. Yes, I’m feeling so good I want to get out of bed.” She got out of bed and began walking around her room. “Pastor,” she said, “I believe I’ve just been healed. Oh, I’m so grateful. Thank you Pastor, thank you.”
Buttrick left her in this ray of gratitude, went out to his car, sat in the driver’s seat and said to God, “Please, don’t do that to me again.”
As miraculous as both of these stories seem, mine with my client and Buttricks’ with his parishioner, I have to admit I felt a bit like Buttrick did. As grateful as I was, and as amazing as it felt to me to be a bit of God’s grace in the world, I shy away from that kind of holy power. I believe in the power of God’s spirit but I have never sought out any training to be a healer. And I have memories of the faith healers on television in my childhood that were deemed pretty strange but very intriguing at the same time. At a deeper level I also suspect that I do not feel worthy to be used by God in this way. Yet, even though I don’t understand it, since it defies logic, I still long to be so open to God that God can use me in some healing way.
I don’t want to get in God’s way but I also don’t want to be a source of attraction as a result of my gifts. As one of my friends said, following a successful program he had orchestrated, “It’s nice to be liked but I hate to be the rage.” Besides it’s all mystery; how God works, when God works and through whom God works. So I guess I am a reluctant but obedient servant of God’s healing power when God chooses to use me in a healing way. Henri Nouwen would likely call me a wounded healer. I like that because it allows me to stand under the same fountain of grace as those I serve—and we all get soaked together.
© Janet O. Hagberg, 2010. All rights reserved. (My client granted me permission to tell her story, and we did do the foot washing several months later. It was a holy act and God was fully present.)
Reflections on this essay
When have you had an experience of God that seemed miraculous or that defied logic?
Did it happen during a time of joy or sorrow and was that a factor for you?
How did the experience affect how you perceive yourself?
How did the experience affect how you perceive God?
How do you feel about having greater intimacy with God that these experiences may engender in you?
Humility as God’s Ho Ho
There is a wonderful, even magical, story in the Old Testament. It involves Elisha, one of the famous prophets in history, and the widow of one of his colleagues. (II Kings 4:1-7) The widow comes to him in crisis, telling him that a creditor was about to take her son as a slave because she could not pay her debts. In fact, all she had left was a small amount of oil in a jar.
Elisha, in what seems like an unusual bit of advice, tells her to ask all of her neighbors for empty jars, then take her two sons with her into her home, close the door and start pouring her small portion of oil into the jars. As she does what he asks, (I can only imagine what she was thinking to herself) the oil somehow increases until it has filled all of the jars. Since oil is a valuable commodity she now has enough oil not only to purchase her son’s freedom, but to support her family for the foreseeable future. It is a miracle story, one we would all like to claim for our own lives when times are hard and resources are thin.
I was pondering this story during my prayer time, letting the truths of it soak into my heart. At the time I was particularly grateful to God for letting me see a plan he was laying out for me to move from my condo and my current life style in a “happening neighborhood” to a simpler and smaller life style in a “green” development in a more racially and economically mixed neighborhood. It was a major move for me and reflected a change in priorities, values and commitments.
Yet, I was grieving this move from a place I loved, on the bank of the Mississippi River, with gorgeous views of the city. I was also going to miss the regular contact with the neighbors I had come to care about. And facing this new neighborhood brought its challenges too. I was a bit fearful of the potential for crime in a lower economic neighborhood, even though I had friends there and a welcoming church waiting for me.
But the unmistakable truth alongside the fear and the loss was the clear sense that God was calling me to this new home. He had already provided human “angels” to help me make the transition. I had mentors and friends in this new place. I felt as if I was moving to a new way of being, feeling a renewed energy in my life, seeing a vision for my place in the world. I felt God paving the way, providing me with the people, resources, and a willing spirit.
So while I was reading this story, I could identify with God’s largess and could even see this move as a way for me to help multiply God’s love, like the widow’s oil in the story. I was praying for God’s guidance about how to share the abundance of grace—God’s oil—poured into my life. I felt much like the widow, that even though I was in a difficult transition and my future was unclear, God was supplying for me in generous ways. I felt so grateful and honored to be in this place of abundance with God.
In the quiet of my prayer I heard a voice from that place within me where God dwells. The voice chimed in, “Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, my dear one. You are not the widow in this story. You’re the empty vessel.” The voice sounded light hearted and gentle like it was singing a nursery rhyme or something like that, starting on a high note and descending like a slide. The message was clear and challenging, yet I could sense a chuckle behind the challenge.
Just like that. Few words. TRUTH. Humility. Loss of ego again. No gentle approval of my claim to be the widow in the story, just a gentle truth with a chuckle. And, of course, God was right. My ego would love to be the widow, the unsung star of the story, and I would love to identify with God’s largess for me. I’d love to have the small amount of oil in my own vessel multiply and be of great worth. I love redemptive endings and being part of them.
But God was clearly telling me that being an empty vessel was more closely attuned to my current state, or needed to be. The vessel represented the acceptance of my emptiness, my dependence on God to fill me, which was really my new calling.
Empty, waiting to be filled, unsure, dependent, surrendered; new words that I was not totally longing for, but now learning to live into. In the story, the empty jars were also a gift from God, a sign of hope for the widow, who must have been elated that her neighbors would give them to her, even though she was unsure what would happen once she got them. So I became a vessel, willing to be given, willing to be part of a miracle of love. I am of value precisely because of my emptiness. I was not moving to my new neighborhood to simply pour out my gifts but to be a vessel, willing to be, to learn, to receive, to love. We are all of immense value in our emptiness—an emptiness that God knows how to fill so much better than we do.
As soon as I heard those rhythmic words, “Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah. You’re not the widow; you’re the empty vessel.” I knew God was messing with me again, in that familiar way, gently nudging me off of my pedestal, bringing me to a richer, simpler and even more profound truth—empty vessels are more likely to be filled. It was what I needed to be—an empty vessel. I could feel the gentle humor, the loving nudge. It felt familiar. I could hear the chortling chuckle. I could imagine the twinkle in the eye, the sly smile that accompanied those words, “Empty vessel.”
One of my friends would call this experience one of God’s Ho-Hos. I like that. And, as a result of this God Ho-Ho, I felt a joyful sense of expectation in my emptiness.
© Copyright, Janet O. Hagberg, 2009.
Reflections on this essay
Which figure or symbol from the story would you be?
How have you felt God leading you into a new direction that is unknown?
Where has God surprised you with a new truth about yourself?
How have you experienced being empty and then being filled?
What is one of God’s Ho Hos in your life?
God’s Joke: the Vanishing Cemetery Plot
Several years after my divorce was completed, I realized that my ex husband and I had not settled the issue of our cemetery cremation plots. Having forgotten this, I had even offered the other half of my cremation site to a Ugandan refugee friend who had no money and no burial plans.
As part of my inner journey at the time, I was practicing the art of letting go, gracefully, of things I did not need or want any more, or that I was clinging to. Lots of things had already left my life, I had reduced my expenses significantly and I was beginning to practice living more consciously. This process of letting go brought up a lot of old memories that I needed to either celebrate or heal. It also allowed me to live more simply without feeling diminished. So I knew that there was wisdom in letting go and in living smaller.
But when the cremation plot issue arose, I got frightened. A cremation plot seemed a necessity and the cost of buying half of it back was prohibitive. I checked the costs of a new site and they were four times what we had paid. I simply could not afford it. I needed wise discernment on this decision. It felt big to me, almost foundational. I needed to make a good decision so I prayed, wrote in my journal and listened carefully to God’s direction.
In a graced moment that could only be God speaking to me, I received an idea, a small plan, that I felt would free me from the fear and provide me a way to the future. I needed to let go of my fear of not having a place to rest after I died. I knew the plan was right the moment it came to me. I would be cremated but have my ashes scattered in a place that was meaningful for me. I could then release my cremation site to my ex husband if he wanted to buy it from me. God transformed my fear into generosity and I offered to sell him my half for a low price if he would include a stipend for my refugee friend. I presented him with the options. He agreed to buy me out and the case was closed.
Or so I thought. But God was not done yet.
Several months later I heard about someone who had given her body for medical research. I remembered a dear friend of mine who had done the same thing. He even worked with the undertaker to have an athletic supporter put on his body that said, “Go Hawks,” the name of the mascot of the university he chose for his bequest. I chuckled when I remembered this story.
I pondered this bequest and called the University of Minnesota to see what the process entailed. I even told the story of my friend’s bequest to the man who was in charge of this process at the university. He chuckled too. I asked if I could do something similar, like have a silk scarf with the university logo on it put around my neck. He said he thought that would be fine. So I sent for the forms and kept praying about this donation as an option, as a way to keep on giving after my death. I was already an organ donor so I thought, “Why not give my whole body?” As I pondered this choice, it felt better all the time and I was deeply satisfied with my decision.
The day the forms arrived from the university, I sat down to read through the details and the alternatives. One of the issues was what to do with my body when the university medical school was finished with it. I knew they would pay for the cremation but would I then have them give my ashes to my friends to scatter them in a meaningful place? As I read the four options proposed by the university, one read like this: The university will, upon request from the donor, put the ashes in a special plot for all donors with an appropriate marker of gratitude at Lakewood Cemetery.
I began to laugh. I knew this was God’s doing, God’s way of joking with me. It had to be. Lakewood Cemetery was the very cemetery I had just relinquished to my ex husband as my final resting place. Now it could, once again, be my final resting place. Not only was it free but it held more meaning and humor for me than it had before. And I would be totally disentangled from the cremation site that had become so complicated. This new site felt like a whole, healed place for me. I completed the paper work and got a silk scarf with little insignias of Goldie, the golden gopher, mascot of the university, running all over the scarf. I sent it all in to the university and now I cannot help thinking about those medical students who open the bag and have a reason to chuckle.
God’s humor is so imaginative.
© Janet O. Hagberg, 2009. All rights reserved.
Reflections on this essay
When have you been surprised or frightened by some unfinished business that could affect you adversely?
How did you step back and bring some calm or perspective to the situation that helped you cope?
What new insights came to the situation?
What humor was involved in the solution?
How do you experience God’s sense of humor?
Is this God, or What?
I read a book recently about how science is beginning to decipher some of the mysterious happening in our lives. Mystery is usually left in the realm of faith but with more scientists and quantum physicists acknowledging a Master Mind, the interest in this non-linear world is increasing. Still, though, there does not seem to be unequivocal proof of something beyond us. However, no one can disprove it either. I’m intrigued by these studies but in the end, my relationship with God does not rest on what others can prove or disprove. It depends on my lived experience of the intimacy and power of God and the subsequent transformation of my life as a result. Interestingly, others agree. The author notes that a lot of us—more than 50%–have had at least one miraculous experience of a presence beyond us. She starts the book with this quote from Samuel Taylor Coleridge:
What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep you dreamed? And what if, in your dream, you went to heaven and plucked a strange and beautiful flower! And what if, when you awoke, you had the flower in your hand? Ah, what then?
I think of God as big–transcendent–as well as close and intimate–imminent. At times these two characteristics of God come together in wonderful, strange, humorous or even frightening ways. But most people never talk about these amazing occurrences even though they are apparently quite common.
Here is a sampling of these experiences that friends have shared with me.
• One friend experienced a spot of blue/white light in her bedroom one night that moved around the room and came from no identified source but offered her a deep kind of calm.
• Another person mentioned that, during a time of great unrest in her soul about what her calling was, she saw the word SING spelled out in the clouds. Her husband saw it too. She took it to mean that she had to find her voice in whatever her next career would be.
• A friend with cancer visited her oncologist’s office and saw a heavenly figure standing in the corner of the office soothing her in this time of stress.
• A colleague, after making a difficult decision about his housing, felt strong confirmation from a hawk that flew under his deck to his office window and sat there looking at him from a distance of about two feet. When he looked up the symbol of the hawk in a spiritual book, it suggested that hawks represent God’s grace.
• A woman sitting in the woods one day felt an overwhelming sense that everything in life; plants, people and animals are all deeply interconnected.
• A male friend was in the path of an out-of-control vehicle that should have hit him and all he remembers is that some non-human force pushed him out of the way so he was not even touched by the car.
• A woman friend was stranded in an unfamiliar place with a broken bike. A small garden shop owner helped her in exceptionally generous ways, even driving her across town to a bike shop. When she stopped to thank him, he just said, “Isn’t that what we’re all here for?” She felt quite strongly that he was an angel.
• And when my mother died at a young age, her spirit appeared to me to give me a guide for my life, a figure from a scripture story that was meaningful for me. That spiritual guide is still with me and gives me comfort and guidance.
I hope that you will add your own story to this listing, since 50% of you (or more in this group!) have a story to tell…
If so many people have these experiences, why don’t we talk about them more often? When someone is about to tell me one of these stories they usually say, “Well, I wouldn’t say this in public,” or “this may sound really strange to you.” Yes, these stories sound strange, maybe even irrational, but ultimately they feel undeniably spiritual—and intimate. Perhaps that is why we shy away from sharing them. So why do they happen and what can we do with them?
My experience is that these mysterious experiences are God’s way of breaking through barriers of time and space to speak directly to our hearts and souls. Since it is soul communication, it can’t be proven or disproven. The experiences bring about comfort or affirmation for some, while for others they are a way of capturing their attention, to call them to a more intimate relationship with God. For others, the experiences could even be a caution about a path they are on that may not be healthy. Sometimes these experiences are just God’s way of reminding us that God is here among us.
We can enter into an intellectual debate about these experiences but if we do, we may miss out on the grace of the experience, which is to TOUCH us in our deepest places. So when any of these experiences happen, stop, and be aware. Be grateful. Take it in. Let yourself be touched by God. Listen for deeper messages—you are loved, you are remembered, you matter to God. Ultimately God desires us to come closer, to be more vulnerable.
And if you are willing to answer the call to go deeper, just ask God to visit you again…
© Janet O. Hagberg, 2010. All rights reserved.
The book mentioned in this essay is Fingerprints of God, by Barbara Bradley Hagerty.
Reflections on this essay
What is the battle that goes on in you between the rational and the mysterious happenings in life?
How do you respond to Coleridge’s poem?
When have you had a mysterious unexplainable experience?
If this was the presence of God in your life, what difference did it make?
How do you allow God to touch you now?
What goes through your mind when you consider asking God to visit you again?
