Easter Playlist

One thing I’m grateful for is the availability of creating playlists. They are a tool for wellness and many other things.

My Easter playlist is one of my favorites. Usually each year I edit it, typically by adding new songs. I’m not doing that this year. I’m enjoying the familiarity of the existing 20 songs, letting them remind me why this week matters.

Most of the songs were released over a decade ago, and probably half of them never made it to radio. They are hidden gems to my spirit.

I encourage you to check out my playlist for two reasons:

  • To receive the fullness of Easter
  • To consider what could be on your Easter playlist

https://music.amazon.com/user-playlists/d4c45641a1b1432a9c587c183b04c3dfsune?ref=dm_sh_FbW3SbQHcFxAFbobVKMB3Kwk6

Alone Yet Connected

Finished listening to Seeing with the Eyes of the Heart today. One of the last discussion points centered on the reality we all encounter of facing aloneness.

Adyashanti stated he believed almost no one understood Jesus, making him one of the most alone figures in spiritual literature. To explain what he meant, his reply included these thoughts about aloneness.

Engaging spirituality in an authentic way will bring us to encountering our aloneness many, many, many times…Ironically the greatest feeling of belonging comes through these deep and profound encounters with our aloneness. It’s so paradoxical that our greatest sense of belonging comes by going through those doorways of aloneness…We almost always try to do end runs around aloneness, finding surrogates for the experience of aloneness rather than really meeting it…We’re all one. That’s a really great and nice thing. But we all are simultaneously very unique expressions of the one. We all have our very unique journey that is not exactly like anyone else’s…Aloneness, in the ends, leads through the door not only to connectedness but a kind of spiritual autonomy.

I relate.

There is an aloneness on the journey of making your faith yours, not anyone else’s. Think of any faith decision you’ve made to this point that was lifechanging or formative. It came down to you making that choice by yourself. Those decisions, those moments rooted you, grounded you, expanded the territory of your faith, and girded your faith in such a way that it no longer relied on another person’s faith.

Yet, because of that, you now have the strength, the maturity, or the allure to those in your faith community that draws people to inquire how you got it. And the connectedness is more about the kingdom than you. Your aloneness that you walked through, whether you wanted to or not, brightens your image of God. It’s attractive while also preparatory for your next round of aloneness.

These thoughts remind me of this quote:

“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.”  -Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words

Beautiful and terrible await you in aloneness. Don’t be afraid.

Photo by Matt Le on Unsplash

3 Thoughts on Forgiveness

I’m in the middle of listening to Seeing With the Eyes of the Heart.

Roughly a third of the way in, Adyashanti asked to address the topic of forgiveness. His thoughts were striking.

At one level I think the greatest forgiveness is when we really see that there’s no need for forgiveness because everything is inherently, consistently forgiven. It’s human beings that decide we are sort of God’s arbitrators of who can and cannot be forgiven, and it disconnects us from the experience of the way forgiveness works in the universe.

No need for forgiveness seems utopian. Yet, his reasoning is captivating. He’s not saying there is no literal need for forgiveness. He’s suggesting we must task ourselves to learn how it works, first from God and then between humans.

Some of Jesus’ last words on the cross were “Forgive them for they know not what they do,” referring to the people who put him there. If you are on the cross and you can forgive the people who put you there, that’s a pretty big forgiveness. You’re forgiving hate, and you’re forgiving violence…there’s a great teaching in that. If he couldn’t have forgiven them, he could have never been free from them. He would have been trapped in their hate because he couldn’t forgive their hate. He would have been trapped in their violence because he couldn’t forgive their violence…Ignorance can take some pretty violent forms…Most people are pretty much doing what they can do. What they are doing is an exact reflection of the state of their consciousness.

The striking image of these thoughts is being trapped. Couple that with being trapped in hate or violence with the foundation being the other person’s ignorance, forgiveness not only seems possible but desirable.

If we have no forgiveness, our participation in the world is seared with anger and hate, even if we are working with something that is very necessary and good. This motivation seems to come from fear rather than love.

May our searing be exposed. May love overcome our fear.

Doors

(At the end of February, I shared a few posts about Jesus’ statement “I Am the Door.” Here’s another one by my friend, guest blogger Mark Stanifer.)

I came across the image in this post during a season of transition. It mirrored exactly what I was feeling—standing in an empty room with only doors in every direction. No furniture. No guidance. Only choices.

That year, my word was co-operate. And the message became clear: this wasn’t about finding the one “right” door. It was an invitation to move, to trust, to co-operate with what God was doing in me.

I had recently left a corporate America role after 20 years. It was a massive shift. I wanted clarity, direction before moving—instead, I had doors. And silence. No signs. No indication of what was behind the doors. Simply doors awaiting my move. 

At first, I felt stuck. Fear kept me frozen in place—fear of making the wrong move, of wasting time, of choosing poorly. I told myself I was being careful or wise, but really, I was just afraid. And that fear masked itself as waiting on God, when in reality, He was waiting on me.

What shifted for me was this: God didn’t want me to wait for answers. He wanted me to walk in partnership with Him. The movement itself was the point. So I began opening doors to see what was on the other side. 

The movement did not lead to immediate results. Some doors were dead ends. Some were locked. Some simply lead me back to the same room. But the benefit was more than the results. It was in the movement itself. Because I learned that He wasn’t waiting behind a specific door—He was walking through each one with me. And, eventually I opened a door that lead to a whole new room to explore.

In John 10, Jesus says, “I am the door.” That line has stayed with me. He doesn’t just point to the way forward—He is the way forward. He is the door, the First Door.

The door, I’ve realized, isn’t the destination. It’s the turning point. It marks the moment of trust. And it’s the threshold through which partnership begins—both with Jesus and with who He wants me to become.

This journey has been deeply personal. It’s not about replicating someone else’s story or steps. The doors in front of me are mine to open. And what they lead to—growth, challenge, disappointment, doubts, pruning, joy—is uniquely tied to who I’m becoming. As you face and open your doors, your learning will likely be different. 

Here’s what I’ve learned:

  • Don’t wait for the perfect door. Choose one and walk through it.
  • Courage is choosing in spite of the fear.
  • The wisdom comes from the choosing, not the waiting.
  • God isn’t waiting on the other side. He’s walking through each door with me.
  • The door is part of the growth. That’s where the pruning happens so I can bear more fruit.
  • This is a partnership. We’re co-creating my future, as I co-operate with how He’s at work in me.

Jesus said He came to give us life to the full. That life begins by first walking through Him—He is the First Door. The only way to true life is through Jesus. Once we’ve stepped through Him, we can trust He’s with us through every other door we open, no matter what’s on the other side.

Gracists

Last month I had a conversation that left me with a feeling I didn’t want and, for sure, didn’t see coming. A few weeks later while attending a community event one speaker mentioned moral injury. And that feeling suddenly had a name. Check out this video to learn more about it.

This incident led me to intentionally choose to read several YouVersion devotional plans addressing the topic of racism. One of those was based on David Anderson’s book Gracism. Day 3 of that plan was very helpful, so I want to share this segment from that devotional:

From 1 Corinthians 12, I have identified eight principles or sayings that can guide us as we develop as gracists. These sayings lead us to actions that we can engage in to build bridges across the deepest divides of color, class, and culture. As you meditate on these verses, look for each of the eight sayings listed below.

  1. I will lift you up. “Special honor” means lifting up the humble among us.
  2. I will cover you. “Special modesty” means protecting the most vulnerable among us from embarrassment.
  3. I will share with you. “No special treatment” means refusing to accept special treatment if it is at the detriment of others who need it.
  4. I will honor you. “Greater honor” means God, as a gracist, has given greater honor to the humble.
  5. I will stand with you. “No division” means when the majority helps the minority, and the stronger helps the weaker (gracism), it keeps us from division within the body (an opposite view than normal).
  6. I will consider you. “Equal concern” means having a heart as big for our neighbors as we do for ourselves.
  7. I will celebrate with you. “Rejoices with it” means when the humble, or less honorable, are helped, we are to rejoice with them.
  8. I will heal with you. “Suffers with it” means empathizing with the pain of another and walking empathetically with the injured party.

To connect with that day of the plan, follow this link: Gracism: The Art of Inclusion – Day 3 of 5

Here’s to our collective development as Gracists.

Centering Prayer and Inner Awakening (book review)

If you identify as one of these people, this book may be for you:

  • Contemplative
  • Meditative
  • Pursuing Spiritual Formation

Chances are the terms Centering Prayer or Welcoming Prayer are new to you. They were to me, which drew me to the book.

The first three sections of the book include 10 chapters teaching the method, tradition, and psychology of centering prayer.

The final section focuses on inner awakening and introduces welcoming prayer in chapter 13. That chapter by far was the most resourcing. This tool is meant to help surrender be an underlying attitude and practice for meeting daily life.

The welcoming prayer follows a three-step process:

  1. Focus and Sink In: Focus on how emotions or physical pain are being experienced in your body. Stay present without analyzing.
  2. Welcome: By welcoming the emotion or pain, you are not attempting to eliminate it but disarm it.
  3. Let Go: Two ways to go about this. 1) Short: “I let go of my anger,” or “I give my anger to God.” 2) Litany using the following formula: “I let go my desire for security and survival. I let go my desire for esteem and affection. I let go my desire for power and control. I let go my desire to change the situation.”

This quote sums it up quite well:

Here now, is the right place for you to wrestle before the divine face. If you remain firm, if you do not bend, you shall see and perceive great wonders. You will discover how Christ will storm the hell in you and will break your beasts. -Jacob Boehme

I don’t know about you, but I welcome the image and reality that the hell in me doesn’t have to be battled alone. I challenge you to try the welcoming prayer in the next 48 hours. Remain firm. Don’t bend. Welcome the beasts.

Flying Through the Clouds

The last leg of my trip from Sarasota to Bakersfield, California, yesterday started in Phoenix. I had been watching the weather forecast for weeks, curious what to expect for the race tomorrow. So I knew it had been rainy that morning and was supposed to be clearing. When the pilot said he expected the last part of the ride to be bumpy, I nodded.

Sure enough, about 20 minutes before landing the clear skies gave way to a blanket of clouds. I decided I’d watch the decent through my window-seat view.

For quite a while we flew just above the clouds. That’s all you could see beneath the plane. I was waiting to see when the pilot decided to dive. When he did, I looked at my watch.

It was roughly six minutes later when the plane was beneath the clouds, the blanket shadowing Bakersfield.

I wondered what goes through a pilot’s mind before and during a decent into such coverage. If I could, I wanted to ask the pilot to give me one word to describe what he felt during that six minutes flying through the clouds.

Often we feel like that. Those six minutes could literally be six weeks, months, years, or decades. The possible one-word list is long:

  • Unsettled
  • Edgy
  • Heavy
  • Antsy
  • Lost
  • Tired
  • Frustrated
  • Guarded

The truth I was reminded of watching out that window is this: God doesn’t change.

During that twenty minutes while experiencing the beauty above the clouds, the uncertainty through the clouds, and the darkness under the clouds, my location and my experience didn’t impact Him. Our relationship remained the same every second.

Wherever you find yourself in relation to the clouds, hold on to this truth. The clouds were created. Their Creator is not drained or threatened by them. He remains the same above, through, and under.

Photo by Johannes Mändle on Unsplash

The Shepherd Beside Us

(By Guest Blogger Dawn Van Beck)

Let’s talk sheep.

Jesus talks a lot about sheep. Throughout most of the book of John, chapter 10, He speaks of sheep as an analogy for His people, His followers.

Therefore, Jesus said again, “I tell you the truth, I am the gate for the sheep. All who ever came before me were thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate; whoever enters through me will find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:7-10)

A shepherd guards the gate to keep wolves out. He guides his flock to green pastures where they find their supply of life. Jesus illustrates how He is the gatekeeper and the good shepherd for each of us. He guards and protects us (His sheep) from danger. He leads us to places of abundance where we find nourishment, comfort, and peace. Resting in the pasture God provides, we find a permanent state of enjoying all we need to live the full, abundant life He desires for us.

Now, you may be thinking this all sounds great and wonderful, but are you and I really being compared to sheep? Is this good or bad? Hmmmmm.

The prophet, Isaiah, suggests we all are “like sheep” and “have gone astray;” “each of us has turned to our own way” (Isaiah 53:6). Research suggests that sheep tend to wander off from the flock and become lost, giving them a common, negative description. Therefore, we assume they are dumb, stupid.

Sheep get a bad rap.

I have a feisty Dachshund named Lilly, who obeys me, most of the time.

She stops what she’s doing when I admonish her. She comes running when I call out her name. She sits at attention and listens for my direction. Lilly is not always successful in her efforts to follow me though. She has her own will. She sometimes wanders off or gets sidetracked, or even lost (mostly due to any nearby lizard diversion). Overall, despite her lizard distractions, Lilly has a sincere intent to please and obey me.

Reflecting on our likeness to sheep, my Lilly comes to mind. I am her gatekeeper, protecting her from harm. I am her shepherd, leading her to sources of sustenance and comfort. Even though she occasionally becomes preoccupied with lizards (and goes astray), she follows me, because . . . she knows my voice.

Jesus speaks again, providing an action step on our part.

My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me (John 10:27).

If we desire to be led, we must listen to our leader.

Sheep are not dumb. They are dependent. And they know the voice of their shepherd.

A flock of sheep has a dependent relationship with their shepherd. They require guidance to identify the proper fields to graze in. Given they are easy targets, they need protection from swift, aggressive wolves. Sheep can live with little worries because they enjoy the direction, protection, and strength of their shepherd who leads them so they can thrive.

We, too, are dependent, which is most definitely not a weakness or defect, but rather, a blessing.

How glorious it is to rest under the direction and protection of our shepherd, Jesus. He leads us to lush pasture where there is fulfilling refreshment and shelter from the elements. He does not keep us on a leash (like I do with Lilly) but allows us to freely roam, provided we remain within reach of His voice.

How do we hear His voice?

  • Confess. Eliminate any sin barriers that may prevent you from hearing God’s voice.
  • Read the Bible. Reading Scriptures helps you discover God’s promises and who He is.
  • Pray. Your prayer conversations provide intimate communication with God.
  • Get Quiet. Cut out the noise in your life so you are ready to listen and hear God.

We must trust our leader, Jesus, and listen attentively to His voice. This is how God will lead us to the richest and safest of life-giving pastures.

——

Dawn Van Beck is an author and speaker passionate about helping women discover the redemptive power of God’s forgiveness so they may walk in the freedom of Christ. She has authored several short story collections, which include fiction romance and inspirational stories, along with two children’s books. Her first non-fiction book for Christian women, Deliver Me: Ditching Your Shame and Embracing God’s Freedom, is soon to be published. 

Chewing on the Door

I’ve mentioned that my word for 2025 is REST. To share more, here’s my journal entry from 1-1.

Five years ago I was very focused on the practical rhythm of rest. Nothing wrong with that. It led me to this season.

’25 seems to be a year where I get to focus on the emotional and spiritual reality of rest.

Let things come. Don’t try to build the door. Address the door that opens. Don’t force your way through the door.

Trust Jesus when he said, “I am the door.”

Appreciate what’s at your feet. Running to what you see elsewhere or hoping to find isn’t rest.

The following day I chatted some with my spiritual director about these thoughts. He responded, “Looks like you need to keep chewing.”

In that chewing, I invited some other folks to join me in posting about this “I AM” statement. Tomorrow I’ll share one of those.

I’m still chewing.

Photo by Xiangkun ZHU on Unsplash

Lay It Down Day(s)

In the Christian world, Sunday is a special day. It’s a day set aside for several reasons, depending on which lane of Christianity you’re following. I’ve been pondering this since before my alarm was set to go off this morning. I’m thinking in some ways Sundays aren’t necessarily special. More on that later.

This week had peaks and valleys. If I’m not paying attention, I can relive the valleys to the point the peaks are forgotten. That’s what I was dealing with to start the day-and I wasn’t even out of bed.

Before the alarm sounded, God and I had a talk. (SIDENOTE: A definition for prayer that I read yesterday described prayer as what happens when you pay attention. It’s okay if you stop to chew on that.) In thinking about heading to church this morning, we landed on this mindset: Everything the last six days have offered did not have to dictate how I showed up to this day. In fact, for the day to be what it’s intended, start by laying down whatever isn’t needed for the day.

What did that include?

  • Unresolved conflict
  • Confusion
  • Unanswered questions
  • Unmet expectations
  • Disappointment

To be clear, by laying it down we didn’t say these things don’t matter. Act like the week was just one big peak experience. Nothing truthful about that.

Laying it down meant don’t let it consume this day. If Sunday is going to be what it’s meant to be, I decided I didn’t need to carry those valleys into it. Today didn’t have to be a valley. The valley could have a small peak.

My word for the year is rest. I’m finding more and more that rest is a state of mind. Rest is possible in the valley just as much as it is atop the peak. It has to be chosen. That doesn’t make the valley disappear, nor does it mean the valley magically lights up. It means my body, mind, and spirit don’t have to hurry finding the path out of the valley. Chances are probably greater if I enter the church doors having already laid things down I will receive what God knows I need. I might even be able to help someone else lay something down.

Which leads me back to Sundays being special. Sure, it’s the day of gathering. But imagine if the other six days of the week were considered just as opportunistic. What if every day was a Lay It Down day? What if God and I had a similar talk every morning before standing up for my first step? I’m guessing that paying attention effort would result in more day’s intentions transpiring, valley or peak.