Come up higher Come up higher He’s calling me Every day And I will answer I will answer My life is in…Your hands
– Unbroken Chain Church
I spent two mornings this week looking through the trees. Peering over the dashboard while waiting for legal parking on the street I call home, I sang this song. It’s one of the first songs I learned, one of the first songs I loved as new believer. That was 1989. He called then, He calls now. And the song is familiar and new and old, in a way that feels safe. Like the taste of beet juice (my fathers remedy for everything) or the way my mama taught me not to wander off alone. I can sit in “good for me” boundaries like that forever.
I set my gaze through a mix of green and worn leaves to find it. Justice, something to settle my spirit because the last few weeks have been hard. Holy hard. And sometimes I couldn’t see. But I’m determined to see beyond the filter and anything else that might divide us. Brushed and bruised by thorns, scrubbed clean by dew, my bare skin made new. I want to feel it – I want to be fully awakened by an encounter that transforms. I want to know more of His love. I want to go higher.
I’m the contemplative type, a thinker. But I also crave action. I want to know what I can do – how I can help make things better while I think about change, nirvana, epiphany…Jesus. I’m not afraid to do the hard work, to put my foot in, to get involved, but grace is gritty. And waiting isn’t easy.
Here’s the revelation. I have to come up higher to catch the vision of grace I pray for. The one I believe in. Maybe, instead of focusing on justice, I’ll come up higher and seek grace.
The trees tell me it’s a process. Watching them prepare for change reminds me to hang in, hold on…to shift and drift…to stay loose. Before the fall they’ll lose everything. Before the promise of a bud appears….all falls into grace.
I don’t have answers for the hurt and questions seeking enlightenment in this world presents. Except to do love. Do good.
I’ll come up higher with my belief in love. Love that looks different in every season but is identified by the dirty work we do in the ditch. God promises a holy outcome.
The do good kind of love is hard. And God breathed grace is a gift. In the end it won’t it matter if we agreed, only that we put into action the only answer that offers life. His love. His light.
While I wait I’ll be love and believe love. I’ll answer by hanging my hope on an altar of grace…a tabernacle of love I can take with me, wherever I go.
So come up a little higher, higher, higher, higher, higher
So come up a little higher, higher, higher, higher, higher – Mali Music
Some say, “the squeaky wheel gets the oil”
That the louder we are the more attention we receive.
But quiet, the barely audible whisper gets my attention of late
It’s what’s whispered over tea and toast late at night, the last few lines, the after thought, the quiet exchange before the hush. I’m listening for the whisper.
Soft words between friends or the little post that nobody read, written by the writer nobody knows, often hold sacred truth.
The heart speaks whispers, time-tested truths for listening ears.
The sanctified, consecrated breath of angels is a whisper.
Its holy spirit fire reveals a stillness we know as truth.
Revelation comes quietly over time, after listening long and hard.
To hear is to wait. To wait…to see. To see…to listen…for the whisper.
The silent pause. A holy selah, the break between beats.
It enters the soul softly, is known without doubt. Truth.
The whispered walk of divine truth.
Pay attention.
When the room gets noisier, lean into the whisper.
Find a gem, an answer, a sacred devotional unveiled… readied for soul-inscription.
No one inspires me more than my mother. In midlife, she went back to school to earn a bachelor and masters degree. She became a teacher while raising 4 children, largely alone. What an example she’s been! As I approach 50, I think about her and marvel at the midlife transformation… already happening in me.
At 48, I’m not quite ready for AARP. But something about the frivolity of youth is slipping away. Don’t get me wrong, I’m youthful. I maintain a perspective on life with just enough humor to keep me belly laughing at least once a day. I also had a baby a few months before turning 45 and with children at home, aged 3-13, I feel engaged in a youth oriented culture. I’m still on the playground…literally.
But I’m changing.
Although I pray to let go gracefully the things of youth, I’m realizing this shift is more rebirth than death. It’s a new beginning.
But I’ve been thinking about aging and how at this point in my life…when I feel confident enough to literally soar….the world around me treats me as if all that’s left is preparation for departure. I’m thinking about how the world even the church, silences middle-aged women. No longer a babe and not yet a revered “mother of the church”, we midlife mamas get stripped of our mojo. And that’s not cool with me.
I’m praying about how we can change that.
In midlife I recognize that my story doesn’t end with Titus 2. I’m still a Proverbs 31 woman. And maybe you’re like me. Maybe you’ve grasped a god vision for your life and know there’s more. Because after all he’s poured and all you’ve learned, maybe he can use it for more than serving donuts and coffee after service. Which, of course, isn’t a wrong thing, it’s just not the only thing.
To be clear, I’m a Titus 2 woman. I’ve earned the title, fought the required battles…I’m qualified. But I’ve got years ahead of me and untapped gifts to explore and share. I’m a woman of wisdom. Use me.
I’m saying no to feeling invisible or ignored and offering a little pushback here. Let’s not take a seat…unless we feel led to.
So here it is, a little Midlife Mama Manifesto
I am a woman, created in the image of a God who loves me. I rest in the knowledge that He cares…about my dreams, my future. He cares for me. I will above all else nourish my spirit with the word of God. His word, growing in me, brings forth beautifully ripe fruit. This is a season, something I want to savor.
If I have been called to marriage, I will honor it as a gift. I will treasure and respect my husband, remaining pliable to his lordship over our home. I will guard my family and home by taking seriously my role as gatekeeper. I will pay attention. If I am single I’ll lean into the wisdom of those placed in authority over and community with me. I value them for holding me accountable for my words and actions.
I will obey gods voice without hesitation. I’ll walk out His plan for my life…with fear and trembling, if that’s what it takes. But I’ll walk. I’ll step up to roles of leadership when led to do so. I may be middle-aged but I am not middle of the road. My life screams the experience of the veteran. Is valued because of its scars, imperfections, flaws. Because I know…I will teach.
I will guide and serve as a living witness of Gods mercy to younger women in my community. I celebrate my wisdom. I will not shrink into the shadows when so much has been deposited in me. Now is the time to pull out the resources and give freely what I’ve been given.
But that’s not all…
I accept that as I need the church , the church needs me. I will pray about an area of service where I can bless the ministry with my experience and enthusiasm. I will live limitlessly…I am the right age….for just about everything. And can do, almost anything. I will continue to develop my gifts, hone my craft, grow.
I will enjoy my season of motherhood, particularly as it’s come at such a sweet time in my life. My midlife children get a mama who knows what she’s doing and isn’t afraid to enjoy herself doing it. I will show my children love. In deed , word, affection. Realizing I can’t do it alone I will pray for and enlist trusted support resources to help me raise my tribe. I will parent to my strengths. Always willing to grow but being gentle with myself in areas where I may be weak.
Whether or not I ever biologically parent I will engage with and serve as a loving nurturer for children in my family and community. If I find myself free of the responsibility of children, with time to feather an empty nest – I’ll explore this time of explosive creativity. I’ll use it to write my story and share it with my world. Whether I paint, or dance or sing or speak, this redemptive expression is my life line to all creation. It connects me – to my creator.
Mid-life is not a resting place. This is my life and God calls me to be a life long learner. I will expand and stretch to accommodate new opportunities and lessons. I walk in the blessing of my perpetual restoration.
I will seek to develop my spirit as I enjoy beautifying my outward appearance.I will embrace physical changes as part of a natural progression…leading me to complete confidence in myself and my Creator. I will work to maintain a healthy and active lifestyle. I will honor myself and my body as Gods unique creation – at every stage…a masterpiece.
If you’re a mid-lifer like me, what would you add to this affirmation? How can you tweak it for your life?
Jesus told them a story showing that it was necessary for them to pray consistently and never quit. He said, “There was once a judge in some city who never gave God a thought and cared nothing for people. A widow in that city kept after him: ‘My rights are being violated. Protect me!’
“He never gave her the time of day. But after this went on and on he said to himself, ‘I care nothing what God thinks, even less what people think. But because this widow won’t quit badgering me, I’d better do something and see that she gets justice—otherwise I’m going to end up beaten black-and-blue by her pounding.’”
Then the Master said, “Do you hear what that judge, corrupt as he is, is saying? So what makes you think God won’t step in and work justice for his chosen people, who continue to cry out for help? Won’t he stick up for them? I assure you, he will. He will not drag his feet. But how much of that kind of persistent faith will the Son of Man find on the earth when he returns?” (Luke 18:1-8 MSG)
She carries the word, the law. Walks with wide eyes (in some depictions). And did you see her sword? She’s a bad mama-jama, walking with power and grace. I’ve always been drawn to the image of justice as a woman. A woman after Gods heart, but a woman nonetheless. She’s objective and fair. She’s righteous. But I never forget she carries a sword.
Hmmm.
They’re still marching in Ferguson. And online the call has gone forth. Christian leaders and laymen are going before the throne for Ferguson. Each hashtag and tweet a voice added to the collective cry for peace. I’ve said it before I want shalom to rock this world. I want divine order, the sacred power of justice to silence the enemy.
And in my desire, my heart call and passion, my deepest prayers – I never forget my sword. I walk with the sword of the spirit but I do carry a sword. For battle. I want swift justice and would call myself a lover, not a fighter. But I’m not afraid to…I’ve never been afraid of a fight. Not when I’m right.
I cry loud and long in prayer but a part of my heart is always on the battlefield. In the riot. In the crowd that screams “No.” But I don’t want to fight. Not anymore.
So the other day I wondered what it would look like if I put down my sword (the one for fighting) and for a season, emotionally explored Martin Luther King Jr’s non-violent approach.
Jesus knows there are enough reasons to fight, to put your hands up in frustration or anger. To take a stand when you know you’re right. To go down in a blaze glory. For justice.
In Ferguson I realized the power of persistent hope. And like the widow in the above scripture..I can’t give up, cave in, or quit. I have to press forth. I have to keep asking. I have to leave margin for forgiveness and no matter what the issue, conduct myself in the image of Christ. I must steward well my words of hope. I have to be relentless in my pursuit of justice because prayer matters and changes things. Even without a sword. I’ve got to believe that.
Resolution looks like me standing up in church with tears in my eyes when he finds me in Ferguson and sings my favorite song.
Resolution is crawling towards redemption and forgiveness…again. Redemption is revelation – knowing when justice isn’t swift… wisdom waits. Revelation might look like remembering Jesus shared these words, for such a time as this. He didn’t want me to give up.
Revolution looks like this – me wiping my feet at the door and asking to come inside…again. Laying low and listening. Being transformed. Being like and with Jesus. Always.
As much as I want to remember his powerful acts of defiance I have to remember his word and the many times he walked softly. Jesus chose to lay down his life – when he might have fought to be right. I’m working on balancing my intentional, passionate love for justice – with a wisdom that waits. When justice tarries…wisdom waits.
So grateful God doesn’t mind seeing me every day. In fact I think he rather likes it.
“Won’t he stick up for them?
Surely He will.”
Let your handmaiden find grace in your sight…#GiveMeGrace
