Sarah Parham

I have been very aware this year of the overlap of focal points in February.  Perhaps it’s true every year, but it is in my minds eye more than ever this year.  February growing up was always known as the month of love.  As I’ve grown in my faith, the season of Lent has become more and more valuable to my faith.  And in the past few years, Black History month has become a time when I have a centerpiece around which I talk to my kids about how we will view the world and treat people.  Somehow, this year, the three have converged in my mind like never before.  Perhaps it is Valentines and Ash Wednesday falling on the same day.  Likely, it is the impression some wonderful friends are making on me, one in particular is spending the Lent season actively fighting racism in a public way, and another intentionally reading voices of color for lent.  Through a combination of forces, not the least of which is the Holy Spirit, I am growing because of this.  I’ve been surprise to find it’s even shaping the way I read the Word of God.

Just last night I stayed up, probably too late, doing some reading from the voices of color in our society, and those in my life.  Then this morning, I found those voices were still in my mind as I read the scriptures. From Psalm 43:

Vindicate me, O God,
and plead my cause against an ungodly nation;
rescue me from deceitful and wicked men.

You are God my stronghold.
Why have you rejected me?
Why must I go about mourning,
oppressed by the enemy?

I must confess that when I came to the Word this morning, I came with my own worries in my mind.  I was not aware of these other voices, and I certainly wasn’t looking for them.  I was looking for the voice of God to speak to my troubles. But after having spent my evening hearing other voices, my mind was beginning to be trained to recognize them.  I heard in this Psalm the voice of people of color.  I realized that I have never approached this scripture with any level of personal understanding, but my brothers and sisters of color…they understand it all to well.  My heart was broken.   Later in my daily reading came Philippians 4:10-17

I rejoice greatly in the Lord that at last you have renewed your concern for me.  Indeed, you have been concerned, but you had no opportunity to show it.  I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.  I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty.  I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.  I can do everything through him who gives me strength.

Yet it was good of your to share in my troubles.  Moreover, as you Philippians know, in the early days of your acquaintance with the gospel, when I set out from Macedonia, not one church shared with me in the matter of giving and receiving, except you only; for even when I was in Thessalonica, you sent me aid again and again when I was in need.  Not that I am looking for a gift, but I am looking for what may be credited to your account.

Again, the voices of those I have been reading are reflected in the scriptures.  It seems you could fairly easily substitute Macedonia for Montgomery and get a true statement. In the voices I am reading, I’m not hearing anyone looking for a hand out or even hand up. What I hear is folks crying out for us to reflect the gospel we proclaim.  Again, this is what I hear in the last statement of this passage.  What credit is being posted to my account to show that I am indeed living in the economy of God?

Lent beginning on Valentines brings all kinds of irony.  What will happen to all that chocolate?  And how about having someone tell you that yes, you are frail and will die someday, while you celebrate your love for someone else, or better yet, your unmet desire for someone else.  Whew.  That’s quite the day.  But indeed, this is where

Lovingkindness and truth have met together; Righteousness and peace have kissed each other.

But best of all, Ash Wednesday sets in motion the season of lent where we turn our eyes to the greatest act of love that has ever happened. In lent, we set our eyes on Jesus, who not only said, but demonstrated death and love meeting with a kiss.  He showed us what it means to give up something you have the rights to for the sake of another.  He showed us that the greatest love is to lay down your life for another.

After having been married for 14 years, I know now that love isn’t the sexy thing that’s sold on the commercials.  Sometimes it doesn’t even feel good.  It’s a lot of hard work.  It’s commitment.  It’s a lot of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Please forgive me’. It’s a lot of sticking around even when it’s hard an uncomfortable.  It’s returning to the conversation even when we don’t want to.  When we see love in its more mature form, it is clear that Black History Month belongs perfectly at the center of the month of love, and in the season where we consider what love demands of us.

Have you ever had one of those experiences where you just rode the waves of God’s grace, from a place of complete abandon, in over your head, to a place of solid security.  Walking off into the sunset, hand in hand with our blessed creator.

If so, please tell me about it.

So far, that hasn’t been my story.  I have certainly ridden the waves of God’s grace.  It’s exhilarating.  It is such a rush, and such a faith booster as you see the shore get closer and closer as you simply give in to abandon and faith in the waves of God’s grace.  And then, just as you can feel the sand in your fingers, and you begin to get your footing, the tide turns and the undertow seems to take away any ground your faith has taken.  Suddenly, before you know it, you are back in over your head, wondering, questioning, did that wave really just happen?  Did I misjudge?  Was that God?  All it takes is one look at your hands, and it’s undeniable, you still have the sand under your fingernails.  It was real, you were just there, that experience was real.  You did just witness the amazing power of God carry you from complete chaos to perfect peace.

But now, what do I have to show for it.  Now, I’m back in over my head, begging for another wave, desperate for His grace to survive.  This has been my story.  It is challenging sometimes.  I was bemoaning my unmet expectations to God one day.  And He so kindly pointed out that if I desire to ride the waves of His grace, I must be in over my head.  There will be the final dance, where we rise up from the waters and walk off into the sunset.  But that isn’t today.  That is for the one day…

For today, I must let go, I must not fight the current.  As life takes me in over my head,  I will not despair, but

Hope in God, for I shall again praise Him

If you are here with me, friend, read this Psalm, let it wash over you fresh.  You will once again

Go along with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God, with the voice of joy and thanksgiving…

For today, let go, stop fighting, and let God be

The help of your countenance and your God.

In just 10 days my husband and I will pull out from the city we have called home for almost ten years.  While I am incredibly excited about what we are moving towards and all God is calling us into, tonight I am thinking about goodbyes.  There will be many tearful goodbyes this next week.  But one that I am having a hard time processing is the goodbye we will have to say to our home.  Our friends we will come and visit.  I will cherish their voices on the phone.  But my home…  Well, I think the new owners wouldn’t like my visits so much.

How do you say goodbye to a place?

How is it that a place gets inside you so much?  When I look at the walls of my soul, I see the walls of my living room.  Many a tear has been shed here.  Some of my deepest pain and deepest griefs have been nursed under this roof.  I have brought my babies home to this place.  The paths traced by my tears, both of joy and of pain, are like a fingerprint for my soul now.  My soul which seems the perfect shade of blue, not Kentucky Wildcat blue, more like a cornflower blue.  If you’ve ever seen my living room, you’d know the color.  I am sure that this fingerprint will be ever evolving.  But I am sure also, that those lines will never disappear.  They will certainly be incorporated into a larger weaving that God is doing, but they will never disappear.  They are like scars, little reminders of what God has done.  Some of it leaving me breathless in wonder at His great love.  And other parts leaving me just breathless.  This God so great, so strong, so just.

The words of Kahlil Gibran from The Prophet hit my soul in its most tender places:

How shall I go in peace and without sorrow?

Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city.

Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?

Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache.

It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands.

Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and thirst.

And perhaps my favorite part about my home.  It hasn’t been just mine.  Or just my family’s.  We have shared our home with so many.  It has been a place of refuge for not just myself, and not just for those called Parham.  It has been a safe sanctuary for many weary travelers.  For those in my neighborhood, for those in my church.  And for those just passing through.

But alas, we have seen the Spirit of God stirring.  It is time for this tabernacle to move.  And as we share our souls with those we meet, we will share the spirit of this home.  For it is not its perfectly blue walls we have loved (although I have loved them!), it has been the spirit of God which has held us here.  And this spirit has promised to dwell with us wherever we go.  Here’s to a wonder-filled decade in what has become my old Kentucky home.

So in my last post, I shared about how I learned to pray.  I’d like to clear some things up before I am taken to the mad house.

I have not heard God speak to me audibly.

I now have three small children.  There are many voices in my house.  God’s is not one of them.  In fact, He would have to get pretty loud to be heard audibly around here.  He has a much better shot at speaking to me in other ways!

I’m not saying God can’t speak audibly, but I’m just saying I’ve never heard it.  I think one of the most profound things I’ve heard a preacher say was perhaps the simplest.  We had a guest pastor at our church once give a sermon and the main point of his sermon was that God’s voice always starts with a thought.  It’s a very simple truth.  But it’s also very profound.  Every time I sense I am hearing from God, it always begins with a thought.

Maybe I should take them a meal.
Maybe I should call my dad.
Maybe I should go to seminary.
Maybe I should check my daughter’s diaper…

It always begins with a thought.  There are so many people who feel like they don’t hear from God.  I read somewhere recently that most people do not see or hear God,not because He isn’t near or speaking, but because He pervades our universe so completely, He becomes a part of the backdrop.  It’s like the little messes, once they get left out long enough, we don’t even notice them anymore.  God is so thoroughly present in our world, He becomes a part of the stage, something we don’t notice until something goes awry.

If you are reading this, you have the ability to hear from God.  It takes nothing more than the ability to have a thought.  The challenge comes in when we have to sift through the many thoughts that run through our minds to find the voice of God.  Let’s take a scene from this afternoon as an example:

Voice 1:  If my child whines one more time, I am going to lose it….Not from God.
Voice 2:  I could run away….NOT from God.
Voice 3:  I wonder what’s happening on Facebook…Not from God.
Voice 4:  I should bend down to get on his level to hear what he is saying…There it is.

Lest you are still tempted to take me to the mad house, let me assure you, this is not one of many ‘personalities’ that live in me.  It’s a Person.  It is the God of the Universe who is and has been speaking since the beginning of time.  He is consistent.  He speaks truth and love.  If you are unsure, check the voices by what you know to be true of God’s character.  If you don’t know God’s character go to the scriptures.  Devour them.  Then test the voices, learn His voice.  You will know the right one when acting on it produces the right kind of fruit:

love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control.

So, tell me, have you heard from God lately?  Leave a comment, I’d love to know.

My first grade daughter taught me to pray, about six and a half years ago.  I came home from the hospital with a tiny precious little girl.  I was armed with all the knowledge I had gleaned from the parenting books and all the anxiety and alarm those same books typically bring.  In case you haven’t read one, all of the parenting books out there have the same premise.  It goes something like this “If you love your child, you will do x, y and z”.  The only variable in each book is how they define x, y and z.  The problem is, sometimes x from book 1 completely contradicts y from book 2.  It’s really maddening for a healthy person.  Then you add in more than a healthy dose of hormones and top that off with sleep deprivation and you have a recipe for complete breakdown.  This is not a pretty scene.  Baby melting down in the crib, mom melting down on the couch.  Each surrounded by books, tears and tissues.  It was in this exact scene that I learned to pray.

I was completely fed up with the books, so those were (maybe literally) tossed (chunked) out the window.  I sat down and spoke to God (with my screaming baby in the background) and informed Him that it was time I gained the spiritual gift of interpretation.  My baby was clearly speaking in tongues, and I needed to understand what she was saying.  It seemed to be something urgent.  In my hyper rational brain I realized that God knew exactly what she was crying about.  I didn’t.  He could tell me.  And that is where it began.

It was a slow process.  The Bible says that the sheep know the shepherd’s voice.  There’s a reason the sheep need to know His voice.  There are a lot of voices out there.  I kept hearing the voices of the authors I was reading.  It took some time to discern God’s voice, but through trial and error (good old fashioned scientific method here) I began to trust my knowledge of my Shepherd’s voice.  I remember one time putting her down for nap, she began to cry – not too unusual.  I sat outside her door and prayed.  Lord, what do I do?  Let her cry?  Hold her?  I distinctly heard Him say “Change her diaper”.  I argued.  I had just changed her diaper.  That couldn’t be it.  God calmly responded “change her diaper”.  I relented and went in and checked her diaper.  Sure enough, she was dirty.  I knew then, I could trust this voice.

If you are not a mother, you may have checked out a few paragraphs ago.  If not, hang on, you don’t need a baby to learn to hear God’s voice!  I actually began a few months before my little one was born.  I started with another piece of my life which is ultimately stressful to me: gift-giving.  I can’t explain it, but I cannot go shopping for someone else without panicking.  So, I began to pray for God to tell me what to purchase when gift shopping.  It was an amazing blessing.  I could recount several stories from this experiment as well.  It was a rich learning experience.

So, if you are longing for your prayer life to move beyond tossing words up to the ceiling and hoping for the best, join me in a return to middle school science (Wow!  It really did come in handy!).  Choose and area of your life to use as a test (probably not wanting to test out your new skills on major life changes, just sayin’).  Ask God to speak to you, test the voices you hear.  You will know from the fruit of your experiment which voice is the Lord’s.  Need to know how to spend your time?  Ask God!  Need to know how to spend your money?  Ask!  Need to know why that baby is screaming?  Ask!

What area will you be testing?  I want to hear your stories!  I’d love for you to share them on the blog!

When tempted, no one should say, “God is tempting me.” For God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does he tempt anyone; but each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.

It is not often that I credit God for my temptations.  No. But then again, it’s not often that I recognize them when they come.  Our enemy has a reputation for being rather crafty.

I am not enticed by the partying atmosphere anymore.

But my warm bed is rather enticing on Sunday mornings.

I am not enticed by a life of deceit.

But a good gripe session with my girlfriends feels good sometimes.

I am not inclined to steal,

but a nice house, with a nice yard and a nice savings account is rather enticing.

Am I wrong to desire sleep, or venting or financial security?  No.  But there is a place where these things, when loved, cherished, and coddled, like a young child will grow. And as they grow, their hold on us grows.  Till one day we wake up and we search for the pulse of our soul only to find none.  There is no life giving fellowship.  There is no freedom in trusting in Jesus.  And as we roll out of bed we suddenly realize Goliath has moved in and taken his spot at the head of our table.  No longer are we making the decisions for our lives.  All of a sudden this small cherished thought is calling all the shots, all the while sneering at the remnants of our faith in a life-giving God.  We stand there scratching our heads wondering how we never noticed a giant in our living room.

See, the thing is, he didn’t enter our homes as a giant.  Even Goliath was a baby too once.  So tiny, harmless really.  Just a little extra sleep, just a little extra time in the office.  Just this once…

Hence the warning from James above.  Sin can seem so innocent, just like a little baby.  It always starts as a thought.  Sometimes not an obviously bad one.  But sin will always lead to death.

take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ

warns Paul in 2 Corinthians 10.  Not every thought is evil.  But no thought can squeeze the life out of you once brought under the Lordship of Christ.  Make a practice of this: making every thought subservient to the One who brings you life.  You see, Goliaths are much easier to deal with before they are full grown.

Well, about seven months ago I wrote a blog post titled: How studying other religions has increased my faith – Part 1.  So, I decided it’s about time I give you part 2.  Better late than never right?!

In the last post, I shared what I learned from Hinduism.  Can I just tell you that when I was reading the next section in my text book about Buddhism, I was whispering “Amen” in between tears.  The basic premise of Buddhism is that pain or suffering comes to us when we attach ourselves to things or people and then those things or those people change or disappear.  At the time I was reading this text one of my dearest friends was in the process of moving nearly 4000 miles away, and the Lord was calling our family to detach from our beloved church and join a new church plant.  The truth that change brings pain hit home, hard.

According to Buddhism, change is inevitable, therefore, the greatest good a person can do is to completely rid yourself of any attachments.  By doing so, you are eliminating all the suffering in your life.  This is chief aim of Buddhism: complete detachment from this world.

When I hear this the words of 1 John 2:15 ring in my ears:

“Do not love the world nor the things in the world.  If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him.”

John, with me, says, Amen!  Do not love this world.  Do not be attached to this world.

But…

And it’s a big “but”, for the Christian, the goal is not a complete detachment.  The goal is attachment to the one eternal thing.  The one thing that will never change and never fail: our Heavenly Father.  We are to be attached to Him first.  Our attachments on this earth are only meaningful as they find their definition in that primary attachment.  I love people because I love the Image of God placed on them.  I love creation as God’s handiwork, not as an object of love in itself.

What I am taking away from Buddhism is the fact that an ideal is not enough.  There must be actions that lead to the achievement of those ideals.  Buddhism involves practices that make detachment possible.  The most common practice is meditation.  In Buddhist meditation the mind is emptied.  The body and mind are brought together in the current moment.  All other cares and concerns are pushed aside completely.  The result is serenity and tranquility.  This is not hokey pokey magic.  The peace and tranquility are real.  The benefits of meditation have been proven over and over.  Buddhism is one of the fastest growing religions in the United States, and it is primarily because people find so much benefit from this practice.

Did you know that meditation is not an exclusively Buddhist practice?  To be mindful, and rid yourself of all the cares and concerns of this world, that is the first step to being filled with the love of the Father.  We would do ourselves a great deal of good to recover this practice of meditation.  It is a great ideal to not love the world, but rather be filled with the love of the Father.  But how will we get there?  I for one hope to recover the Christian practice of meditation to assist me on the way.  What will you do?    I’d love to hear.

Each year I hear the story of the death and resurrection of Jesus and something new and fresh jumps out of the pages of the scripture.  It is truly one of the most beautiful things about the pages of scripture: they are alive.  They bring life.

However, each year that I read of Jesus’ passion, one piece always sticks out.  It is the most shocking statement in the gospel of Mark:

They bound Jesus.

Let those words soak in.  The infinite God was bound.  The omnipotent’s hands were tied.

But this wasn’t the first time God was bound.  The once infinite became finite in the form of a baby.  The one who could see all of space and time at a single glance, could now only see the face of his mother 18 inches in front of him.

But the binding that took place at the hands of the Jewish police was not so gentle as the swaddling cloth and the tender arms of his mother.  This time Jesus is being arrested.  Charged with crimes he did not commit.  What ever happened to

You shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free?

Just prior to his arrest, Jesus had announced the truth of his identity.  It was the truth which led to Jesus being bound!   Was this some glorious act of victory on the part of mankind?  Like a cosmic rodeo in which we have just captured and tied up God?  No.  It was humility on the part of the King of Kings.  Jesus submitted himself to the torture of crucifixion.  Scripture is clear on this one.  Jesus could have removed the chains.  He didn’t lose his omnipotence.  But he did allow himself to be bound. And in being bound, Jesus secured true freedom.

Being bound to me is one of the scariest thoughts.  Not bound by chains or ropes.  I have little reason to fear such physical assaults.  But bound by space, bound by time, bound by people and relationships.  Yes, those bindings are scary.  We all like the idea of independence right.  We don’t want anyone else to own us.  We want to be free to come and go as we please.  Even being bound to our bodies is an annoyance at times.  I want the ability to be in two places at once.  I want to not need sleep, I mean, there are 24 hours in a day.  Why can’t all of them be productive?

So what is it that has your hands tied?

Is it possible that these are the things God has called you to?  Could He bring life and true freedom through your being bound?  Even to such simple things as our own skin…