Outside the door

Ancient history, I thought,
what's done is done --
on to new things and a fresh start.

But, it shadowed me
lurked in dark corners.
Peered, with bloodshot eyes into
conversations sprinkled with
insinuations.

I realized, after a time,
that hurt cannot stay outside the door.
It must come in,
sit down,
and acquaint itself

… with grace.

Lesley-Anne Evans
2009

Away

Some days
if the truth were told
that is, if I were speaking it aloud
I’d say I want to run away
opposite direction to anywhere you or they are.
To a pine box even, or to float, lifeless,
in cold silent fathoms.

My mind screams
shut up shut up shut up
to incessant words, arguments, bickering.

I settle for an angry walk, wet faced in
pissing down rain.
Until mercy comes with full mouth kisses,
turns my heart home.

Lesley-Anne Evans
July 2009

Forgiveness

I looked down only for a minute
to scribble something
(meaningful)
in my journal,
lifted up my eyes and it was gone.

All of it --
foreshore,
headland,
horizon.

Suddenly shrouded in a veil of soft grey mist,
making mystery of what was,

like a covering over all of my sins.

Lesley-Anne Evans
July 2009

Open sea

It’s been a day since the word ‘veer’ was posted at Pink Ink Workshop in the Outrageous Vocabulary forum… and I’ve been thinking hard on that word, chewing on it. I immediately loved it’s meaning, especially the turning toward the course of the sun. I thought what a lovely image that is, with obvious spiritual connotations, but I wasn’t suspecting anything beyond that.

This morning brought feelings of shame in my recognition of a deeper association with this word veer. As I walked and considered veering, and my desire to be on course, I saw myself as a small boat, one who was choosing to sail close to land rather than in the open sea. At first I thought nothing much wrong in this, and then the land forms, islands, began to take on labels of things that I was returning to and circling around and enjoying the waters of. And that’s where the shame crept in.

That’s when I knew my walk would be one of repentance and forgiveness, which interestingly is what repentance is about… a turning from, a veering away from and setting a course toward something else. In my case, the repentant veering was to be about the repetitive patterns of jealousy and envy in my heart that I steered my boat dangerously close to.

As I walked and thought through this ugly reality, I recognized other islands of shame… pride and conceit were also in my archipelago of dishonour. I named it all… out loud. At first I thought that asking for forgiveness was enough, and asking for change. But I realized that for me anyway, I needed to speak it out first… own my lies, own my dirt, and then ask for forgiveness and the supernatural power to veer my small boat of a life toward the course… of the Son.

The walk was good today. I met God there. I was real with him… no masks or excuses today. I saw the instances in my life both long ago and recently where I chose to sail in dangerous waters, close to reefs that could have capsized my boat. Sometimes there was an awareness of where I sailed, other times I just found myself there, with guilt and shame and trying to adjust my sails alone. Sometimes I even moored there for a while.

But today as I worked this all out with God, I realized that the course I want to set for myself is directly into the open sea. I believe the course of the Son is where I am to be. I believe he has so much more for me than were I to remain in the shallows of islands that offer some sort of sick attraction for a time. He has uncharted waters, exciting destinations, and navigational expertise that I can’t even imagine.

I know my boat has a tendency to get off course and that I will continue to veer to correct it. But, I desire to set my compass to true north - and follow that course.

Sheets unfurled, spyglass in hand,

Lesley-Anne

Palm Sunday Meditations

Meditations on Palm Sunday, 2008

Over 2000 years ago you rode into the city that would be the death of you. You rode on a donkey, and people flocked to see you and lay down palm leaves and their clothes on the road in front of you. They called out to you with shouts of excitement for who they, in their narrow minds, thought you were -- deliverer from the oppression of the Roman rule, catalyst for a new power, a new age, a warrior prophet - one whose words promised a better way.

“Hosannah in the highest,” they cried out in a euphoria that passed in waves throughout the crowd. Did they wonder why their future King rode on a donkey? Did they question your lack of weapons or armour? Did they wonder what action you would take in the capital, who you would see, what you would say? Or were they merely curious about this one whom they heard had raised the dead?

And your closest followers - what were they thinking? You had given them fair warning on several occasions yet did they really fully understand that your journey to Jerusalem would be a one way trip? As the crowds screamed, did the disciples glance at one another with a hint of pride to be counted as one of your friends? Or did they get caught up in the party atmosphere and miss the look of intent on your holy face?

What gripped Peter’s heart that day? A warriors heart, was he preparing for a fight? And Judas, where was his heart as he walked beside his comrades? Was Satan working on him even then? Did he feel discomfort, embarrassment at the spectacle his teacher was creating? Did he lag just slightly behind the rest, distancing himself from direct eye contact with you?

Who was in that cheering crowd? How many of those whom you had touched with your healing hands, had received your life-changing words where there watching, celebrating, feeling a renewed and overwhelming thankfulness mixed with disbelief at what you had done for them?

Did the man with the once withered hand lay his coat on the road in front of you? Did the bleeding woman, fully healed, weep for joy? Did the demon-possessed, now spirit filled one, sing songs of freedom that day?

And then you passed by, and they watched your figure grow smaller in the distance, the sounds of rejoicing fading with you. What happened to them then? As they returned to their homes, their vocations, their families, what occurred in the hearts of so many who, only a few days later, would be part of another crowd of people screaming, ‘Crucify him, crucify him.”?

And I see in that fickle crowd a snapshot of myself. My heart full of adoration one day then sidetracked the next, allowing circumstances to dictate my feelings and overrule my heart for you. My intentions for service, love, relationship, grand and strong, and then slowly becoming complacent. And I , like Judas perhaps, avert my eyes in embarrassment and shame for who I am, for my lack, for my defeat and I drift even further from you as I choose to look inward rather than into your eyes.

I see me in that crowd - euphoric in worship on Sunday then discouraged in my real-life by Tuesday. How many of us experience our faith like that? Striving, trying, desiring, hoping, but with no staying power?

Fall on God’s grace, you say! Let go and let God! Surrender! Yield! And my heart cries, “Yes”, while my head asks, “How often”? How often must I revisit this place of surrender, of repentance, of crying out to God to rescue me from my self? How often?

It’s getting late on this Palm Sunday and I realize the nature of time and the need to make the best of it. And my responsibility therefore lies in choosing how to spend my limited time… both today and for the rest of my life, choosing You over and over again.

So right now, I choose again to stay close to you, to do my best, to learn the sound of your voice and obey it, to love my husband and my children faithfully and well, and to learn what it means to love my enemies, and to serve you with the gifts you have given me.

And when I fall or grow tired, complacent and ashamed, I will choose to come to you again and again and again - to get a fresh look into your eyes - to fall on your mercy and grace - and to call out “Hosannah to my King”.