Category: Meditation - IRONSTRIKES-men forging men

Sunday Meditation

1/11/2015

Suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Does she not light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.' In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.
Luke 15:8

God rejoices when we turn away from our self-destructive way of life toward a grace-full way of life. God rejoices.

The process of recovery begins when we are able by God's grace to recognize that our efforts to be God -- to control, to make things perfect -- have failed. When this happens we are able to face clearly the behaviors which have been destructive to ourselves and others. We can then turn from our sin to God. Even when this process involves a long search, God rejoices when we are found.

When a child is born, it is a joyful event. Functional parents prize the child. They hold the child and talk to the child and marvel over the child. The infant does not yet contribute much to the world. It comes as a bundle of needs. But the infant brings joy simply by being.

God is our Good Father. God prizes our existence in the world. God desires to have a relationship with us. Even when we are a bundle of needs and not yet able to contribute much to the world, God rejoices over us. When we are restored, reconciled, found, it brings God joy.

God rejoices over you. God experiences joy when you are found. God throws a party when your relationship is re-established. God finds joy in you.

Lord, help me to take it in.
I can't image myself as the object of your joy.
Help me to see that you find joy in me.

Amen.

Copyright Dale and Juanita Ryan
National Association for Christian Recovery

Sunday Meditation

12/28/2014

If only my anguish could be weighed and all my misery be placed on the scales. It would surely outweigh the sand of the seas - no wonder my words have been impetuous.
Job 6:1-3

When we have lived for a long time by the 'don't talk' rule, learning to talk honestly and personally can be a real challenge. Our attempts to move away from self-deceit toward honest self-disclosure may be quite awkward. It's not reasonable to expect ourselves to be gifted at telling the truth when we have practiced deceit for so long. Sometimes our words will seem startling. We will feel our pain, find our voice, and the words and emotions will tumble out raw and uncensored. This text calls these 'impetuous' words. Another translation of this text calls them 'wild words'.

It is not easy to break the silence, to talk about what is real, to tell the truth about what we see and hear, to share what we think and feel, to tell our stories. Breaking the silence is like breaking the sound barrier - sometimes it can be quite loud and it can rattle the walls a little. When our misery feels like it 'outweighs the sands of the sea,' our emotions are going to be intense and our words will sometimes be wild.

Wild words are part of the journey and should not surprise us. Intense feelings sometimes need strong language in order to find true expression.

Lord, I am not accustomed to talking.
I am not gifted at honesty.
I have practiced 'don't talk' for a long time.
And now I need to practice honesty.
Help me to be patient and accepting of my wild words.
Even when the wild words frighten me.
Help me to pursue the truth.
Give me the courage I need.
You, Lord, who created the worlds with a word,
Give me the words I need.

Amen.

Copyright Dale and Juanita Ryan
National Association for Christian Recovery

Sunday Meditation

11/23/2014

No more lying then. Everyone must tell the truth to his fellow believers because we are all members together in the body of Christ. Ephesians 4:25

Honesty is essential to recovery. Honesty is essential to intimacy. But honesty is not easy.

We were not created to be isolated, independent creatures. We were created to be interdependent. We need each other. And in order for us to be helped by others and to be helpful to others, we need to practice honesty. That means we must learn how to talk to each other about our thoughts and our feelings and our needs. We must learn to talk about our struggles and failures, about our dreams and our successes.

Honesty is the soil in which intimate relationships grow. It creates the possibility of being known and loved for who we really are. But it is also full of risks. If we tell the truth about ourselves, people may not listen. They may not want to know. They may not understand. They may judge and reject. They may dislike us. They may give us simple answers to unanswerable questions. They may repeat what we have said to others.

We hesitate to be honest because we have experienced these things in the past. Our feelings may have been minimized. Our thoughts may have been devalued. Our reality may have been denied. But in order to grow healthy relationships, in order to heal and recover, we need to begin to take risks. Learning honesty will be a process for us. It will not come quickly. But as we practice the disciplines of honesty we gradually become more secure in telling the truth.

I am tired of lying, when it would be just as easy to tell the truth.
But I am afraid of honesty, Lord.
It's not as easy as it sounds.
Help me to pursue honesty today.
Help me to be honest with you.
Help me to be honest with myself.
Help me to build a community of faith
where honesty is the norm.
Build in me a capacity for truth.

Amen.

Copyright Dale and Juanita Ryan
National Association for Christian Recovery

Sunday Meditation

11/9/2014

Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has born? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands. Isaiah 49:15-16

We may experience abandonment from a spouse who turns away from us to their addiction of choice. We may experience feeling like we have been rejected by friends. We may struggle with memories of parents who were not compassionate with us. Or memories of parents who 'forgot' us in one way or another.

And so we say to God: "You will abandon and reject and forget me like all the others!"

Sometimes these experiences are so familiar that we expect them from anyone we want to be close to, including God. It is a terrible fear to live with. It creates deep distress.

God responds to our distress with words of reassurance. We are not always able to take in reassurance that is offered to us. But there are times when it can feel like a drink of cool water to our parched throats.

God says "I am not like all the rest. I will not forget you. Even if your parents forgot you, or your spouse turns away, or your friends leave, I will not forget you. I have tattooed you on the palms of my hand".

I will not forget you.

It may not be easy for us to comprehend, but it is very clear. God says; "I will not forget you."

I need reassurance, Lord.
I want to believe
that you will remember.
But I have been forgotten before.
I know you are not like that.
I know it in my head.
But my heart forgets so easily.
Reassure me, today, Lord
of your unfailing love.

Amen

Copyright Dale and Juanita Ryan
National Association for Christian Recovery

Sunday Meditation

11/2/2014

O lord, you turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. Psalm 30:11,12

Sometimes it can seem that all there is to life is grief. We face painful realities and allow ourselves to feel the painful feelings. But grief is only for a season. There will come a season for joy. In fact one of the most surprising things about the recovery process is that as we grow in our capacity for experiencing deep emotional pain we also enlarge our capacity for experiencing joy. Recovery is not just about learning to experience unpleasant emotions. It is about learning to feel the full range of life's emotions.

Imagine for a moment that you are 'clothed' in grief. God grieves with you. It is a time for wailing. Few words pass between you. But there is a great deal of emotion. Then, one day God brings you a new set of clothes. They are the clothes of joy. The time comes to change clothes. Your heart begins to sing. The time of wailing is over. The time for dancing has come.

Who can say how long this will take? It certainly cannot be rushed. But God is prepared to be with us through the whole process. God understands joy. God clothes us with joy and teaches us to dance and sing.

For teaching me to dance, Lord,
I give you thanks.
You are a good teacher.
My heart dances before you, Lord.
Your goodness endures forever.

For teaching me to sing, Lord,
I am grateful.
You are a good teacher.
My heart sings to you, Lord.
Your goodness endures forever.

Amen.

Copyright Dale and Juanita Ryan
National Association for Christian Recovery

Sunday Meditation

10/26/2014

If only my anguish could be weighed and all my misery be placed on the scales. It would surely outweigh the sand of the seas - no wonder my words have been impetuous.
Job 6:1-3

When we have lived for a long time by the 'don't talk' rule, learning to talk honestly and personally can be a real challenge. Our attempts to move away from self-deceit toward honest self-disclosure may be quite awkward. It's not reasonable to expect ourselves to be gifted at telling the truth when we have practiced deceit for so long. Sometimes our words will seem startling. We will feel our pain, find our voice, and the words and emotions will tumble out raw and uncensored. This text calls these 'impetuous' words.

Another translation of this text calls them 'wild words'.

It is not easy to break the silence, to talk about what is real, to tell the truth about what we see and hear, to share what we think and feel, to tell our stories. Breaking the silence is like breaking the sound barrier - sometimes it can be quite loud and it can rattle the walls a little. When our misery feels like it 'outweighs the sands of the sea,' our emotions are going to be intense and our words will sometimes be wild.

Wild words are part of the journey and should not surprise us. Intense feelings sometimes need strong language in order to find true expression.

Lord, I am not accustomed to talking.
I am not gifted at honesty.
I have practiced 'don't talk' for a long time.
And now I need to practice honesty.
Help me to be patient and accepting of my wild words.
Even when the wild words frighten me.
Help me to pursue the truth.
Give me the courage I need.
You, Lord, who created the worlds with a word,
Give me the words I need.

Amen.

Copyright Dale and Juanita Ryan
National Association for Christian Recovery

Sunday Meditation

10/19/2014

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; O Lord, hear my voice. Let you ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.
Psalms 130:1-2

Grief is often experienced as being 'in the depths'. Sometimes it feels like we have been swallowed up by grief. Our bodies ache. Our minds can't focus. Our hearts feel like they will break.

Our cry for help during times of grief may seem desperate and feeble. We want to believe that God hears us. We want to believe that God is attentive to our pain. But we feel uncertain.

One of the most difficult experiences during seasons of grief is feeling as if our crys for help fall on deaf ears. Like the psalmist, we find ourselves pleading with God to pay attention. God, who may have seemed so present and attentive when our pain was less intense, can seem strangely absent just when we need God most. When we are in the most pain, we are often least able to experience God's loving presence.

This subjective experience of God's inattentiveness can be terrifying. But it can also be the starting point for growing a deeper and more meaningful faith. A faith that has found the courage to honestly face these experiences of God's absence will be a transformed faith. A faith that has survived a season of grief will have experienced the realities of the spiritual life at a much deeper level. From experiences of this kind we can learn to give up simplistic spiritualities. We can learn to pray with more honesty and integrity.

Can you see me, God?
Can you hear me?
Listen!
Pay attention!
I am calling to you for help.
I am overwhelmed with sorrow.
Have mercy on me.
Hear my cry for help.

Amen.

Copyright Dale and Juanita Ryan
National Association for Christian Recovery

Sunday Meditation

10/12/2014

Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. James 5:16

Sometimes honest confession can seem astonishing, impossible, and dangerous. Because we have learned silence so well, we experience honesty as full of risk. After all, if we are honest, then other people will know what we think and feel. We will be exposed. The appearance of strength and competence we work so hard to cultivate will have to share the stage with our weaknesses, our failings, our sins.

When we practice honesty as a daily discipline, however, something happens to us. The promise of this text begins gradually to grow in our lives. We begin to heal. It is not a dramatic, once-for-all-time, quick-fix kind of healing. Nor is it a private healing, a healing that happens only 'inside' our heads or in secret with God.

Honesty leads to healing because people can now express their love for us in practical ways. Honesty leads to healing because we no longer have to pay the high tariffs that pretense demands. We heal because the experience of acceptance counteracts the contempt we so easily heap on ourselves. We heal because we are no longer alone. We heal because we are known and loved.

Honesty is a discipline with a promise. We will be healed.

Lord, give me the humility and
the courage
to practice confession today.
Heal me as I do the work of honesty.

Amen.

Copyright Dale and Juanita Ryan
National Association for Christian Recovery

Sunday Meditation

9/28/2014

Then they led him away to crucify him. Matthew 27:31

There are days when we find it difficult, if not impossible, to sustain hope. The day of Jesus' death was such a day. It was a day of despair for all who had put their hope in him. It was a day of unbearable grief for those who had been changed by his love. In such terrible moments hope disappears. Darkness seems to be all that remains. God seems absent.

It is, however, one of the most fundamental convictions of the Christian faith that, in those times when hope seems unattainable, God is at work. In that moment when even Jesus had a difficult time sustaining hope in God's redemptive purposes, God was fighting the decisive battle which would extend the rule of the Kingdom to all peoples. In that moment of terror, the foundations of reality were exposed and God was at work on the deep structures of the world. God could do work at that moment which would have been impossible during ordinary times.

Much the same is true of our moments of hopelessness. It is when hope grows weakest that our foundations are most exposed. It is when the struggle to sustain hope is most difficult that God can work on the deep structure of our persons. It is at those times that God can reach the unreachable crevices of our hearts and work on regions where fear and despair seem to reign.

It is a terrible thing to lose hope. But all is not lost. Though we lose hope, God is still at work. It may be that during our season of hopelessness God will extend the rule of the Kingdom of God into new regions of our lives.

In those times when I cannot hope, Lord,
help me to remember the work which
you accomplished during Jesus' hour of darkness.
Remind me, when I lose all hope,
that all hope is not gone
because you continue your work in me.
Extend the rule of your kingdom
into the deepest regions of my heart
where fear and despair have reigned for too long.

Amen

Copyright Dale and Juanita Ryan
National Association for Christian Recovery

Sunday Meditation

9/21/2014

A despairing man should have the devotion of his friends, even though he forsakes the fear of the Almighty. Job 6:14

At some point during the recovery process we re-examine our most fundamental beliefs. A long process of sorting, examining and questioning takes place. And, in that process, our relationship with God is challenged. It is possible that our relationship with God will deepen and strengthen in the process. But it is also possible that we will find ourselves pulling away from God. We may find ourselves angry with God, or afraid of God, or unable to believe in God at all. This can be a frightening experience. It can feel like the very foundations of life are being shaken.

In times like this, we need many things. But at the top of the list is our need for friends who will accept us even if we turn away from God. We need friends who will not minimize our struggle or discount our feelings. We need people who will not be shocked when we are full of rage at God. We need friends who are able to hear the deep pain behind our words and who know that this, too, is part of our healing. We need people who can see beyond the immediate pain to the healing that can come.

Even when we forsake the fear of God, we need friends who understand, who are committed to us for the long haul, and who plead with God on our behalf.

Sometimes I feel agnostic, Lord,
I just don't know anymore.
Sometimes I want nothing to do with you.
Where were you when I needed you the most?
Sometimes I despair, Lord.
Sometimes I can't seem to hope.

I need friends who will not abandon me, Lord.
I need friends who will be patient and grace-full with my anger and fear.
I need friends who will stay with me as we wait for you to show yourself once again.
I need friends, Lord, who will give me courage to hope again in you.
Send help, Lord.

Amen.

Copyright Dale and Juanita Ryan
National Association for Christian Recovery