Prayer & Fasting

Today begins 21 Days of Prayer and Fasting. 

Learning to pray is a life-long journey of communicating and being transformed by our Loving God while we witness God's interaction in our lives. Though I have been praying since I was a child, I recognize I still have so much more to learn and experience in prayer while also being grateful for the depths of God I have come to know through prayer.

Why Fast and Pray?

I bring these two practices together as a way of centering my heart, mind, and spirit on God while holding something else close (a situation, a person, a need, etc...). 

Fasting helps me quiet my bodily desires and abilities. This causes me a greater experience of silence. Fasting can be done in numerous ways. For a quick summary on fasting logistics, history and encouragement, click on the fasting brochure link below. If time allows, I may write about my personal experience of fasting in a later blog. My perspectives and approach have changed and continue to change. 

In seasons of fasting, we find we also have more time to spend in prayer. (NOTE: Unless you're in the stage of life where you have children at home in which case, fasting doesn't automatically give you "extra time." A key to experiencing a life-giving time of prayer begins with acknowledging the season you're in and giving yourself grace to participate in Prayer & Fasting in a manner that works best for you. We can't chart where we want to go without knowing first where we are.) I have learned I am more transformed in the silent embrace of God's presence than I am in rigorous study. With that said, however, I also believe we need to read scripture and listen closely for God's Spirit speaking to us in the text. "Praying" over the next 21 Days will be a time in which we weave together scriptures, prayers, and silence, allowing the Spirit of God to hover over our scriptures and speak to our hearts.

What can I Expect in Reading this Prayer Blog about Prayer?

We'll be reading through the book of Colossians over the next three weeks. I've mapped out Colossians so as to provide a short scripture to read each day. I chose Colossians because it is a book that speaks about prayer as well as the spiritual powers and dominions at work in our world. My focus through Colossians will be to equip us with scripture as we step into contemplative prayer, transformational prayer, and join with God in praying for God's Kingdom to Come into our cities, workplaces, families, churches, schools, and communities. I'm not going to write reflections with each scripture this year. I am confident if you use the text from Colossians and follow the prayer guide you will learn, hear and be transformed. 

I'll start off each week with a "Prayer Practice" to try for that week. The prayer practice will be a guide to structure your time and will involve a text from Colossians, reflection and silence (and yes, those are different). If you're someone who journals, this is a good season to write what you're hearing the Spirit speak (no matter how unusual). I like to track what I'm hearing, experiencing, sensing, and ways I'm seeing God interact with me. Maybe even jot down your focus word or phrase that you meditate on each day. 

I'll post every Monday morning (Sunday night if I'm on it) each week with the Prayer & Fasting graphic so it's easy to spot. I may post other reflections on the reading from Colossians or my experience in prayer and fasting, but those will not have the logo. 

My hope is that at the end of the 21 days, you'll have three new ways to pray and also a better understanding of praying through scripture.

My prayer is that those things that have been tearing at your heart, or weighing down your spirit would experience God's presence, be surrounded by God's healing and that you would experience freedom and answers from God. 

I believe wholeheartedly that God does hear our prayers and our cries for help. God desires to be our partner in life - the good and the bad. Let's set out on this journey over the next 21 days to experience the power and the presence of God. 

City-Wide Prayer Nights

If you live in the Fresno/Clovis Area, another component of this 21 Days of Prayer & Fasting focus is a chance to pray with others each night. Below is a link to our 2023 City Prayer Nights. Spending time in silent prayer is life-giving for our souls. But in corporate prayer, God really gets to shine! Our faith was meant to be lived and expressed within community. The book of Colossians itself was written by Paul to a community of believers in Colossae. It was a book to be read in the presence of others - prayed together with others. I encourage you to look over the list of churches and choose at least one church to attend. Go with the decision to engage in prayer with the people there. Even better, look for a church that is different than the church you attend. God speaks in a variety of ways and is alive and well in churches across our cities, speaking in numerous languages and cultures. Embrace the beauty of diversity this season as we get to step into the churches of our sisters and brothers and pray together. 

Blessings to you on your journey! May God be near.

Pastor Connie 

2023 City Prayer Nights

2023 Prayer Brochure

Watch Out for Cyclists

Recently I was talking to some friends about the idea of Limits and Losses. In our discussion about limits, we were sharing about limits we feel in our lives - some good and others not so good. As human beings, we are finite creatures with limits built into our DNA; our limits are not liabilities but are part of simply being human. Some of our limits are God-giving blessings and other limits are imposed on us by others. One of the challenges of life is to recognize this difference.

When it was my turn to share I explained that being a woman is one of the things that have limited me.

Confused, a lady asked me to explain what I meant; she (somehow) had never felt like she had been limited due to her femininity. 

I tried to explain myself, but couldn't find adequate words, only example after example of ways I have experienced this limit.

The next day, I noticed a woman penned an analogy that helped give better definition to what I was trying to communicate:

Being a woman is kind of like being a cyclist in a city where all the cars represent men.

You're supposed to be able to share the road equally with cars, but that's not how it works.

The roads are built for cars and you spend a great deal of physical, mental and emotional energy operating on the defense and trying not to get hurt.

Some of the cars WANT you to get hurt. They think you don't have any place on the road at all.

And if you do get hurt by a car, people make excuses that it's the fault of the cyclist not the fault of the car.

Wow - what a fabulous analogy. The cars are not wrong for driving on the road nor are the cyclists wrong for riding on the road. The conflict comes when the more powerful vehicle (which has the potential for life-taking damage) is not aware of the speed, space, and scope of his vehicle. Whether unaware or purposeful, great harm can come from a driver who is simple unaware.

Years ago when I was first learning to drive, I was taught that before merging into traffic or changing lanes I needed to always look twice for motorcyclists. I had a few friends who drove motorcycles and had heard some terrifying stories from their personal experience about accidents and near-misses. It set in me an attitude to always watch-out for and be aware of motorcyclists driving near or toward me.

In thinking about the analogy of women as cyclists on a road with men I wondered how many "accidents" we could avoid by simply watching for and being aware of women around us. What would it take for men to be aware of the danger of "cycling" and to create a space where women don't feel they have to be constantly on the defense. 

This analogy struck me at a practical level because I am someone who actually loves to ride my bike. I am also someone who has an exaggerated fear of riding a bike with cars. None of my three children ride bikes and I wonder how much of that is my own fear I have projected onto them. The fear of not trusting drivers on the road. 

Unfortunately, I have a similar fear of men in power who are unaware of the damage and pain they cause to women. I don't typically work with men who are intentional in their "poor driving," but I have worked with many men who were simply unaware; good, kind men who were never taught to look twice for how their decisions and behavior may affect the women around them.

Is part of the solution changing the vehicles/bicycles? Is it reducing the motor-power of vehicles and reinforcing bikes with protective gear? Changing how our "roads" are built? Of course it would be easier to limit cyclists from riding on the roads or to limit engine-powered vehicles from driving on bike-paths. We all know the ease of being with people similar to ourselves. But how do we travel some of these roads together? How can we work alongside one another?

That's enough of my rambling for today. I continue to hold out hope that one day we can all journey together without fear of one another but in celebration of our differences.

Goodbye to a Classroom

I can be overly-sentimental...but I try to keep my emotions in check and not react too much when I'm facing an emotionally-volatile situation.

I felt a weight today as I cleaned out a classroom at church. The preschool who rents our building is growing and needing more space (good for them). They are adding this room at the end of July (not good for me). 

Oh, I'm sure we'll survive and I can "simply" adjust classrooms, volunteers, pencil boxes, classroom bins, toys, supplies, routines and schedules. The church will benefit a bit monetarily and the preschool can expand, but it sure feels like a loss to me.

I took posters of scriptures down from the walls, cleared North Fresno Church kids' faces from bulletin boards, removed a kid-friendly world-map and peeled labels off the inside of cabinets.

I may "rent" this room again on a Sunday morning but the atmosphere will be one of of a preschool not a classroom dedicated to teaching children about Jesus.

I warned you I'm in a melancholy mood.

I'm sure I'll get over it soon enough, but today...

    ...I'm frustrated,

    ...I'm angry,

    ...I'm defeated,

    ...I'm sad.

Goodbye Room 203 with your south-facing windows, sink, and built-in cabinets. I will miss the sunshine pouring in on a Sunday morning and a sink to wash my hands with my own lavender soap. Simple, insignificant things indeed.

Goodbye. 

Redemptive Hospitality

 

Tonight I stepped into a church that I had not entered in 35 years. 

Our cities of Fresno and Clovis are in the middle of a season of prayer - 21 Days of Prayer in fact. One  tradition that has become a January staple during this season of prayer is the chance to visit different churches every night to pray for our cities together. 

Tonight's service was at Crosspoint Church.

I was a bit distracted heading to the service. I rattled off the cross-streets of the church to Bret and we drove and chatted all the way there. It took me until we were turning off Cedar to realize we were about to pull into the driveway of (what used to be) Harvard Terrace Baptist Church.

My family moved to Fresno in 1983 when my dad became the pastor at Harvard Terrace. My brother, sister and I (pictured above) were sad to leave our family in LA, but were quickly adopted into the warm Southern Baptist community. Many people in the congregation became our adopted grandparents. 

This picture was taken in 1985 to celebrate the day I was baptized. The following year, 1986, life would change and I would receive my first reality check on the health of the Church at the young age of nine.

I don't know all the details because I was so young (I'm in the blue dress), but piecing together conversations, all  my brother, sister and I could figure out was that our Dad was going through a spiritual awakening and the church didn't like it. He began dabbling with topics like prayer, spiritual gifts, healing and worship (with a guitar, not the grand piano or organ no less!). He began encouraging the singing of chorus not just hymns. My dad had been to a Signs & Wonders Conference with John Wimber and was learning to pray for people and learning chords to Vineyard music. I remember hearing him sing and play when I went to bed and again when I woke up. Something was alive in him and the three of us could see it.

From a 9-year-old's perspective, my understanding of the messiness of church was limited (thankfully so). I'm sure there was even more to the story than worship and the Holy Spirit (maybe not!), but what transpired between my dad and the leadership of the church/denomination ended in his termination - or as he explains it, he was led out the backdoor, but when he turned around the door was shut and locked.

As children, we lost grandparents that day. We lost our community. We lost our friends. Why? Because the board - the denomination - did not agree with the vision of their young pastor. My sister, brother and I refused to believe that our dad (our family!) had been fired. We walked our familiar path to church Sunday morning by ourselves, certain we would not be disappointed. 

Instead of warm hugs and a welcomed embrace, we were turned away. The three of us sat on the curb and cried.

I've never stepped foot in that church again, until today.

Our Prayer Night was at Crosspoint and, like I said, I hadn't put the church together with Harvard Terrace until we arrived. I was excited to go in to see how much the church had changed. Walking in we were greeted by friendly people from a variety of ages and ethnicities (that was different than the last time we were here). Inside, the pews were gone (no surprise) but the set-up was the same. Same center stage. Same lower ceilings on the two sides. Same door frames and windows (actually the glass was more clear, it used to be gold), same baptistry (where I was baptized!). Structurally the church was the same...but the people, the paint, the energy, the atmosphere - wow - much different.

What I loved most was that the congregation beautifully reflected it's neighborhood. 

Then worship began. The congregation began singing, people raised their hands and I began to cry. Part of me felt like I was seeing my dad's prayers from 35 years ago - worship and prayer were happening under the same roof that shut it down.

Nothing monumental happened, it was simply a beautiful night of worship and prayer with men, women, youth, and children at Crosspoint Church where we prayed for our cities and worshipped God. But for me, I received the greeting and welcome I wanted as a child. My little self was welcomed and I felt the healing balm of the people of God soothe a wound from so long ago. Singing Vineyard worship songs with arms lifted in the building where my dad was fired for singing Vineyard songs and praying was absolutely incredible. 

I'm grateful for this community of believers who are loving their neighbors and welcoming the broken into their church family. 

Crosspoint Church, thanks for offering your beautiful worship, for leading us in prayer, and especially for your warm hospitality. 

May the Spirit continue to be at work within the Churches of Fresno/Clovis so we can better be God's representatives outside of our church walls.

Sometimes I Wish I had Never Learned to Fly

The ostrich is known to be the largest flightless bird. 

I've often wondered if ostriches wish they could fly. 

If they experienced flight, would they still be content walking along the ground?

Years ago I had the opportunity to learn to fly. I learned to steady the plane and watch for distress. I learned to watch for potential turbulence, adjust speed and elevation during a storm, and even gain flight time on exceptionally windy days. I learned the meaning of the colors on the control panel and learned to distinguish the planes variety of sounds, whistles, and warnings. I learned to communicate with other pilots mid-air and I learned the importance of constant contact with the control tower. I learned to seek out the jet stream and let the pneuma guide my flight. I learned to identify my longitude and latitude position in flight, as well learned to plot my destinations, my duration of flight, and my approximate estimated time of arrival. I learned to make adjustments of weather, temperature, and seasons. I learned to schedule take-offs and landings to ease passenger's comfort, safety, and/or maturity. 

Oh, how I loved to fly. 

I'm beginning to learn, however, that flying has become a curse more than a blessing. Just like the ostrich, perhaps if I had never experienced flight, I would not know what I was missing. I could have been perfectly content with two-feet-on-the-ground. But now? After flying? 

I use to think that giving people experiences was a good thing. My second-half of life realism tells me, however, that some experiences only set me up for prolonged disappointment. Perhaps disappointment turns into memories of the past. But can a person who has flown be content to be ever-grounded? Can flying simply become a good dream?

I have an entire shelf of books on "flight." Perhaps it is time to pack away the books so I won't be reminded of my time in the sky.

Sometimes I wish I had never learned to fly.

I am ruined.

Discontent.

Frustrated.

To be grounded is to eat crumbs off the table while others feast on fresh bread. 

God, help me be content. Keep my eyes from looking into the sky. Let the crumbs fill me and my two walking feet satisfy. If I'm not to fly again, please replace my desire to fly with something attainable - a new goal, new idea, new vision. Open my eyes to joy around me so I can be happy on the ground.  

I wish I had never learned to fly.

Overwhelmingly Sad

**Written originally on February 6, 2018 at 10:16 pm, but never published**

  

I am just two days away from my last day at Loma Vista. It's been home for me and my family for over 13 years - now it will suddenly be over.

My journey of departure has been long. Little parts of me have been dying for years now. Only recently had I discovered so little of me remained alive. Authentic Connie has ever-so-slowly been slipping away. So subtle, only people closest to me have noticed.

The two things that most stirred this decision:
1. To be in a place where I can be authentically me.
2. To be able to follow God in a way that is true to myself and what I believe.

To feel such total freedom and total loss simultaneously is strange.
To drink wine for my mourning heart and also for my joyous deliverance is oddly paradoxical.

My heart is confused and torn.
I want to get off this roller-coaster of emotions.

I know You are with me...but I am afraid.

Seeking Your face is not easy. Seeking Your face is not comfortable. Seeking Your face is not logical.

When does faith transcend logic? If we only choose that which is logical, are we living by faith?

Not a Token

 A few weeks ago I was interviewed by a panel of men. The panel was made up of the National Director of my denomination as well as two other District Ministers from the Central and Northern United States. 

In some way I was honored that my name came up as a potential member for a board which studies the theological background for policy, faith, and belief in my denomination. But in another way the interview left me feeling ill.

The interview was going along fine. We all four shared background information, laughed a bit and then I shared on my understanding of the difference between inerrancy and infallibility. They asked me my opinion on other topics like racism and women as Lead Pastors. I was being completely honest (though it may not have been the perspective they necessarily agreed with) and then one of the District Ministers paused the interview to explain to me that I am not just a token woman on the board of ten people. "Your participation, insight, and opinion is just as important as everyone else's," he assured me. I really do think he meant well and was trying to be encouraging, but I sure felt like the conversation went side-ways.

First - I am not an idiot. 

The board consists of ten people total: one person is the National Director (a man), then each of the five districts have a District Minister present (also men), followed by four "members-at-large," with one lady presiding. The set-up alone dictates that a woman feel like a token. Even IF the other four members were women, there would never be an equal representation, especially given the difference in titles and authority.

Second - Oppression Leaves Wounds

I was surprised to discover something about myself I did not previously realize. The District Minister followed his 'token' statement with a question asking, "Will you be able to speak up and share your insight and opinions?" I sat quiet for a few long seconds. I have no doubt these three gentlemen are kind people. I have no doubt they love Jesus and love the Church. I also have no doubt they have no idea what kind of oppression I have been through as a woman, especially a woman in ministry. My seconds turned into a minute as I tried to determine how to respond.

45 years of being told to... 

"be silent," 

"submit to your husband's authority," 

"don't teach a man"

...and now I was asked if would be able to talk freely in this group of the National Director and five District Ministers? My answer surprised me as much as it silenced them.

I told the District Minister thank you for encouraging me to share and for giving me permission to speak. Then I decided to get (just a little!) more vulnerable...

"I have been in ministry for 25 years. As a female church leader I have had it engrained deep in my soul that my opinion, insight, perspective are not as valuable as my male counter-parts. I have been publicly shamed, publicly silenced, and publicly reminded about my inferiority. Thank you for your permission to speak, but I need you to know that though I have a lot of good insight I also have 45-years negative conditioning in which I was taught not to share freely and not to speak up. While I would like to answer your question in the affirmative, I have to be honest and admit that the message of silence and subjugation that has been taught to me in church has left me oftentimes unable to speak. I am trying to find my voice, but until I do, I will need to be reminded and invited quite regularly to share my thoughts and opinions." (I said something along those lines, though probably not as articulate!)

Until the direct question of, "Will you be able to talk?" was addressed to me, I hadn't realized how guarded and silent I have become. Perhaps I should have asked if what I have to say is worth his time? Do my words have the same weight as the other nine people? Does he have the patience and empathy to continue asking my opinion and encouraging me to share? 

My intelligent, but voiceless self is the unfortunate fruit of church. 

There are insights I see and strategies I understand that could be of much use for the Kingdom of God - but instead I stay quiet, doing just as I was instructed. The question remains as to if I can find the courage to share. Do I speak only if I know I am heard or is my job simply to speak? Perhaps I am not accountable to the listener but I am accountable to myself for oftentimes choosing not to speak.

Hmmm...lots to process and consider. Hopefully one day I'll read this experience and laugh at how far I've come. For now, I am grateful to be more self-aware and pray God gives me courage to talk more even if no one is listening.