Two months ago, some old friends of MHCC led about 60 of us in a seminar on Listening Prayer. The idea is pretty simple really. Instead of talking to God you just sit there in silence and wait to hear from Him. Toward the end of the presentation we were given an opportunity to try it out.

I’ve actually done this before and have most often experienced what a friend calls “mind clutter.” Uninvited thoughts intrude, the agitations of the moment interfere, and the “important” things to be accomplished beckon. This day, though, my pen seemed to take off. The Spirit of the Lord was talking as fast as I could write saying…..

Take it down.  My husband and I both have strong opinions and aren’t afraid to express them. One minute we can be engaged in a conversation about politics, the church, whether we should get a new sofa (we should), and the next minute it has escalated into a full blown conflict. At that moment one of us will say, “Take it down.”

So God said, Connie, do you want to be right or do you want the relationship? When the conversation starts to get too animated take a breath and ask,” How important is it?” If you trust Me the way you say you do, I’ll take care of things. And …. remember how many times you have been wrong. Your relationships, not only with Eddie, but with friends, colleagues, and your children will stay on solid ground if you can learn to consistently bring it down.

Throw it down. Jud Wilhite, senior pastor of Central Christian Church in Las Vegas, has written a book by that name about his own recovery journey that is a challenge to others to be free and embrace the life God has for each of us. In order to experience that lasting change, we have to “throw it down.” Picture the Lord telling Moses to throw down his staff, which represents his doubts, limitations, destructive tendencies, and deep fears.

So God said, You’ve been dealing with your junk for over 20 years now, but let’s look at what you are still holding in your hand that you need to throw on the ground once and for all. Can you let go of the guilt of broken friendships over the years, the resentment of perceived injustices, and the desire for “stuff?” (Isn’t your family room sofa perfectly fine?) You will never fully realize the healing I have for you, nor reach your potential in helping others find freedom until you can release these idols.

Slow it down. I am writing this from Florida where Eddie and I are enjoying an extended vacation with each of our three daughters and their families coming and going throughout the month.  They are all watching me. When this laptop was put in position and I took my place in front of it, there were groans of disapproval. My family members know how to work hard but they know how to relax hard, too.  They wish I could cultivate that same ability to “turn it off.” My mother worked full time until she was 80 and my father never missed going to the office until he was very far into his addiction so I come by it honestly.  I was at the height of preparation for this trip when the Listening Seminar took place.

So God said, Your worth is all tied up in how much gets done. Eddie calls it “Accomplishment Syndrome.” Make a list! Catch up on e-mails! Clean the closet! Get Redemption under control!  You’re the original Martha! And proud of it! Really Connie, SLOW IT DOWN. Sit at my feet. Listen to me. Don’t blow the opportunity you will have to read some fiction, to take in the sunset, to collect shells  with the kids.

I hear you, Lord, so right now I’m closing down this laptop and taking a nice long walk.

Cut to me: heavy computer bag on the left shoulder, pocketbook layered on top of that, coat and carry-on on the other shoulder, dragging two suitcases and a carry-on and trying to run in heels. You’ve seen me – I’m breaking a sweat as a strap falls, a suitcase wheel breaks, and the coat falls to the ground only to be run over by a golf cart transporting someone else (and their stuff) to the gate. I can never find my boarding pass because I can’t remember in which pocket, pouch or bag I stashed it. If you’re still watching when I reach my destination, you’ll see the whole thing start again, as I rush through the terminal, apologizing as the bags swing and knock people over. And I can’t get close enough to my husband or kids to hug them over all the stuff.

No more.

I am traveling lighter these days, and for someone who will never live down bringing her pillow and down comforter to Guatemala, that says a lot. Yes, the FTA and the airlines themselves have had something to do with it, but I’ve also come to enjoy the freedom of being unencumbered by a whole bunch of stuff that I can’t lift and have to drag into the stall with me in the ladies room. The distractions make it a lot harder to be present. Harder to really notice people and places, and harder to connect with anyone other than myself.

Photo // ~Oryctes~ (on Flickr)

To be fair, developments in technology have played a role in my metamorphosis. A Kindle takes up a lot less space than a small library, and if I ever get an iPad I’ll have reached nirvana. More importantly, though, my definition of “essential” has changed, and I’ve even learned to leave some room for what I might discover along the way.

It’s harder to get rid of the baggage we can’t see – attitudes, selfishness, hurts, anger, entitlement, addictions, laziness, wounds, judgment, and expectations. We pack those suitcases every day and keep them close by our sides. They get in the way of our relationships, distract us from what’s really important and wear us out. We share the contents with others – whether they want it or not – and then carefully restock, repack and knock people over as we carry on. We move through our “airports” juggling invisible bags, boxes and suitcases and we’re so focused on what’s in our hands and over our shoulders that we can’t be present with others and with God.

The funny thing is, the people around us don’t want or need our baggage, but God does. Not only is He willing to take it, He actually asks for it. If you want to really be present with Him, with others, and frankly, with yourself, you need – I need – to give it to Him and stop unpacking it on others. Give Him your baggage every day and ask Him to exchange it for a backpack filled with the essentials of being present – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

Here’s your challenge: choose two things in your suitcase and ask God to exchange them for two of the essentials above. Ask Him to give you opportunities over the next week to use them to be present in specific situations, then come back here and let us know what happens!

And stay away from the “Lost Luggage” claim counter.

In the journey of learning to listen to God, there is the simple presupposition that I come in order to hear and am willing to obey what God wants to tell me. Unfortunately, this isn’t always true in our experience.

In Jonah’s story, “The word of the Lord came to Jonah the son of Amitta saying, ‘Arise, go to Ninevah the great city, and cry against it…’” (Jonah 1:1). The word from God was clear, but Jonah chose to disobey. As the rest of the story unfolds we watch as Jonah learns to obey God.

Jeremiah records that after he finished telling the people the Word of the Lord that they responded, “…You are telling a lie!” (Jeremiah 43:2). Later the people added, “…we are not going to listen to you!” (Jeremiah 44:6).

In Psalm 81:11-12, Asaph records God’s disappointment: “But my people did not listen to my voice; and Israel did not obey Me. So I gave them over to the stubbornness of their heart to walk in their own devices.” The people had dull ears to listen and a hardened heart to obedience. So how can we avoid this pattern and cultivate ears ready to listen and hearts eager to obey?

In Psalms 81:10 God says, “I the Lord, am God, who brought you up from the land of Egypt; open your mouth wide and I will fill it.” What a beautiful picture of gratitude, trust and dependence. One simple way we would like to suggest developing this simple trust and obedience is to add the Lord’s Prayer to your daily devotions. It could be the first prayer you utter or the last prayer before you end the day. Let the richness of Jesus’ instruction seep into your soul. Katie and I pray this daily together.

My prayer for each of us is that we would have like Samuel ears ready to hear and hearts eager to obey (I Samuel 3:10).

The human paternal relationship with his son is a symbol of the connection between Jesus and his Father (Pater).   The union with his Father represented the primal source for life, love, friendship, the power to do miracles and save, along with courage, fortitude and endurance to face the enemies of the cosmological realm. As he experienced the black hole of the loss of his life-giving relationship, he cried out in anxiety and unspeakable anguish: “Father, Father why have you abandoned me?!” It felt as if his soul was dying.  The power of the father-son relationship on earth, with both its death-producing and life-producing capacities, is a commanding example of two core realities, both found in the cry of Jesus’ heart as he faced the cross in Luke 22.

Jesus’ cry came in the shape of the words that are often the maiden remarks of the youngest child…

“Daddy.”

The term Abba refers to a baby’s initial expression of intimacy, connection and need.  It is simple and direct: I love you, I need you and can’t live without you.  I need you to meet my physical heeds, but also my deepest needs: nurture, strength, hope, rooting, direction and unconditional love.

Without you I die.

First, Jesus lived with this deeply intimate union day by day. It gave him what he needed every day, for everything.  And at the most critical juncture of his life on earth, it was enough.

Second, believe it or not, Abba is our Daddy as well.  Through Christ we are his son or daughter, and his love for us mirrors his love for him. Yes, it is true: Romans 8 promises us as much. As counterintuitive as all this feels, if we are his children, are able to become as children, all that Jesus took hold of in the intimacy of his son-father connection to his Abba can be ours as well as we face the crosses of our lives.

Speak to him today. Won’t you begin the practice of calling out “Abba Father” today, every day, every hour?

The presence of God is palpable in our world. Still, too often, we find our unfeeling hands and heads and hearts trembling, as it were, at his glaring absence. And so we pray. We plead. We ask. We praise. And in our life brought to speech before him, as the only one worthy to receive it or respond accordingly, we find our lips quivering in disbelief, even as we stand at his feet.

When we voice our lives to God, it is often while somewhere in the tension between hope and despair, between full-bodied belief and the burden of doubt. There, in the tension, we speak to him, acknowledging his identity as other than our own, as greater than ourselves, as worthy of our worship. And so we worship, but as ones bleeding and carrying baggage too heavy for us. We’ve been there. And we’ll be there again.

And so when we stumble into stories of others bent over wounds so deep they are crippling–and we will–how are we to respond?

As Christ-bearers, as ones set into motion by the mission of God, as ones indwelled by the Spirit who brings us Christ, as ones who are daily being reshaped and renewed that we might more and more look like the Son, we live to be and become the life-breathing presence of God for a world strangled in deathliness. Inasmuch as is possible, we mirror the Son’s work of “Word become flesh among us” (Jn. 1:1-4, 14). We give him flesh again in our own bodies, surrendered as vessels for his gospel of hope and healing.

We give him our ears, and so listen to the cries of the wounded.

We give him our lips, and so speak words of healing.

We give him our bodies, and so dwell among the hurting.

We give him flesh again.

Through our listening presence, may we become his own for them, that their words of hopelessness would, however unknowingly, be prayer to him through us.

For the wounded, for the hurting, for the lonely and abused, for the homeless and the hospitalized, may we be the presence of God for you when your knees are buckling beneath you, when your eyes are too heavy to look up, when your mouth is too dry to speak. May we give you our own knees to kneel, our own eyes to see, our own mouth to speak. May my ears become the ears of God in my listening. May my eyes become the eyes of God in my weeping with you. May my lips become the voice of God in my whispering words of comfort and of hope and of healing.

May I become the presence of God with you.

This is our participation in his presence to them, and in their prayer to him.

This I understand.

It is the collective person of God who seems…

distant.

Seemingly altogether removed from the earth, from our lives, from our celebrations and festivities as well as our funerals and tragedies, he looks on from afar, and I can barely make out whether his face is grimacing or smiling. Or if there is any expression at all. It is why we ask questions like: God, do you even see me? Do you care? Where are you in my parents’ divorce, my abused childhood, my alienated friendships? Where are you in financial wreckage, in spousal neglect, in his son’s helpless handicap, her brother’s gasoline burns, his mother’s ravaging cancer, her dad’s fatal stroke?

And with tremendous hurt–and all we can muster to fight off the encroaching resentment or resignation–we look off into the dark, empty sky, doing our best to try and imagine that he’s there. And we cry,

How     could     you?

I confess I’ve asked, and I confess I’ve heard my words reach my bedroom walls to turn and render themselves canceled in a heartbreaking, empty echo. And I confess that for a long time, I have felt God to be deaf toward the cry of the hurting world I live in.

Sure, you hurt when you see us suffer, and so have a suffering of your own. But do you know–do you suffer–my very own suffering? Do you see it from the inside? Sure, you have compassion, but only as one who stands on the other side of the room, able only to watch and wish it wasn’t so. Sure, you empathize with the paraplegic or amputee, but only as much as can a friend who still has legs to walk.

I’ve focused so intensely on the transcendence of God that he has become largely separate from his world. He is personal and he cares, but he has stood apart. He empathizes and has pity, but only as an outsider. And I’ve found myself disappointed and dissatisfied with God.

Then, something changed.

God in our Pain

What if God feels your pain, not in some separated sense, but really and truly and fully? What if God suffers not only on a cross 2000 years ago, but suffers each and every day in the exact ways we suffer? What if God suffers our suffering as we suffer, and not somehow from the outside looking in? What if God is more personal than we could fathom? Maybe his compassion comes at a cost to him.

Indeed, Paul says of Christ in Colossians: “He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” And if we look at Acts 17, we find that “in him we live and move and have our being.” Here we find a God who has woven reality itself into his own being, a God who threads himself into and throughout our world, a God in whom our very existence avoids unraveling. We cannot keep God outside, as if we could if we tried; he is unbearably immanent. I cannot, in fact, will my very own existence without him. I don’t mean to sound pantheistic, but this world is full of God–it is drowning in his presence. I cannot so much as move without experiencing some part of his involvement here. I cannot so much as breathe without his swirling about in my lungs, personally carrying vital oxygen across their capillaries. The fact that I can reach out and touch something to feel its texture and temperature speaks of his intimacy.

Indeed, it speaks. The Word is here.

Photo // Tinou Bao

See, he is more intimate, more involved, more immanent than we can see or know. There is a difference between a God who is ever-transcendent like some great, untouchable platonic Idea, and a God who also shares in our very being. He does not see and know from afar; he is here–even in our pain. It is the difference between witnessing a father abuse his son through a window, and actually feeling the knuckles meet your own jaw.

What if God is that close?

It means that he knows and understands–even experiences–our suffering in a way we could not have even hoped. It means that every bruised and beaten atom of our bodies contributes to his pain, and every hurtful word that reaches our ears rings like a siren in his own. It means that every white-knuckled father who has pounded on the face of his child has pounded on the face of God. Violation of neighbor is then, truly, violation of God. It means God feels the aching body of the chemo-treated cancer patient. It means he winces from the trembling, bloody fingertips of the 6-year-old sweatshop slave. It means he is seared as the burning flesh of the citizen and the soldier taking shrapnel and hot lead. It means he weeps over the headstone of the long-buried lover and aches in the hurt of the lonely.

But we admit we are not always the oppressed, but the oppressor.

The Suffering God

It means that for all of time, in violating and extorting and abusing and raping and murdering and molesting and neglecting our neighbor, we truly do violence to God himself and he suffers our suffering with us (Mt. 25:34-45; Acts 9:1-5). Beginning in Eden, his creation, even humanity–the very beings made and privileged to image his own self–has turned savagely in on itself and on him, like a wild, frightened animal, in our frail and fearful brokenness.

Maybe God, in awesome patience and painful suspension of justice, profoundly suffers at our hands. Maybe God–as the One who runs alone the whole course of time, as the One who alone threads himself into all the humanity and creation of all peoples and places, and as the One who in his perfection compounds his own capacity to suffer a depth and quality we ourselves could not endure–is in duration, in scope, and in caliber the greatest sufferer of all. And much, at our hands (how much, we too, suffer at each other’s hands!).

And so the prayer once perhaps an accusation, like an irreverent finger pointed at the sky, becomes pure astonishment and bewilderment in our questioning, filling us at once with what we mean by words like awe and wonder and sorrow and gratitude. We had wondered once at his absence and compassion for us. We now wonder at our absence of compassion for him. For truly, at the sight of the suffering heart of God, our own personal theodicy of suffering quickly finds itself thin: a pebble on the mountain of the suffering of God. Far from diminishing the experience of our own suffering to nothing, it has instead gained the new weight of an infinitely, eternally compassionate God who enters into our splintered world and feels every sting of its brokenness. I am shaken at the sight of this suffering God; isn’t this the gospel? I am disarmed and awed to worship this God of incredible compassion, this God who is near, who is here, who is now and has been and will be.

Again we ask,

How     could     you?

but maybe with a different, more compassionate tone: if only a tone more truly like himself.

So, dear friend, be comforted. God is not far off or senseless; he is here–in our very real pain and hurt and gaping wounds. Know that he is more than able to understand–yes, he himself experiences–the very pain that plagues your mind, your heart, your body. Know and be comforted that he has entered into your present circumstances and that he aches with you as you ache, and weeps with you as you weep. Pray eagerly for the redemption of all things, the righting of all wrongs, the healing of the human plight, and so plead with his radical, holy self-interest. Our good is at stake; but God, so is yours. Redeem us and our world, God, and come quickly. Until then, comfort us in your wild, selfless, incredible compassion. In the name of your Suffering Servant. Amen.

Justice is a garment, a billion threads, interwoven, interlocked, knit together with strength and integrity. Pull one thread from the fabric and the garment begins to fray. Pull ten million threads and justice unravels into injustice.

The work of justice is to mend the holes injustice inflicts upon the garment. It is a brave, challenging, courageous work and it does not begin with expertise or duty. It begins with love… and love is a thread.

The Justice Conference 2012 is the second annual international gathering of advocates, activists, artists, professors, professionals,prophets, pastors, students and stay-at-home moms working to restore the fabric of justice. For some it means speaking. For others it means singing. For some it means going. For others it means giving. For all, it means living with mercy and love.

You are invited to come weave your voice and gifts into the conversation. Join us, and discover that in the garment of justice, your love is an irreplaceable thread.

Here’s the official details:

WHO WE ARE

THE JUSTICE CONFERENCE is a two-day annual event to promote dialogue around justice related issues such as human trafficking, slavery, poverty, HIV/AIDS and human rights, featuring internationally acclaimed speakers, hundreds of humanitarian organizations and dozens of pre-conference workshops.

OUR MISSION | WHY WE EXIST

To impact a generation for justice.

OUR VISION | HOW WE ACCOMPLISH OUR MISSION

Our vision is to reach tens of thousands of people over the next decade through a leading national conference that annually educates, inspires and connects a generation of men and women around a shared concern for the vulnerable and oppressed.

WHAT SHAPES US

OUR COMMITMENTS

1. A Theology of Justice  - The heart of the conference, and the driving force behind the plenary sessions, is to speak to the broad idea of God’s heart for justice. While ample time is given to speaking on specific topics and instances of injustice, it is our goal to frame the conversation by highlighting the broad concept of justice from philosophical, ethical, historical and religious perspectives.
2. Practical Engagement - We are committed to finding practical ways to involve people in justice issues–both in their day-to-day lives at home and around the world–by providing first rate exhibitors, literature (the Conference Bookstore), pre-conference sessions and spotlight organizations.
3. Collaborative Relationships - We are committed to pursuing creative and collaborative relationships with non-profit and for profit justice organizations with the conviction we accomplish more when we work together than when we work alone.
4. Leading Voices - We are committed to finding and spotlighting the highest quality national and international voices from a broad spectrum of leaders, authors, advocates and teachers from around the world.
5. Fiscal Responsibility - The Justice Conference is a non-profit organization and operates on a slim budget. Any excess funds above overhead costs get distributed to the organizing institutions.
6. To Practice Justice While Promoting Justice - We are committed, as best as possible, to not commit injustices in our pursuit of justice.

OUR TITLE SPONSORS AND ORGANIZING INSTITUTIONS

World Relief
Kilns College

ORGANIZING PRINCIPLES

1. Target Audience - The Justice Conference seeks to reach a broad audience ranging from practitioners and experts to teachers, business people, artists, stay at home moms and everyone in between who has a passion for justice or wants to take a first step in learning more about justice.
2. Is the conference a Christian Conference? - While the organizing organizations and many of the conference team are Christians, the conference seeks to be a blend of about 70% faith based and 30% non-faith based in speakers and organizations represented.
3. What is different between the main sessions and the pre-conference sessions? - The Main Session centers on a collective experience focused on a blend of education (around the idea and theology of justice), inspiration (with a heavy emphasis on music and art) and exposure to a few select causes and organizations (varies each year).
   The primary emphasis of the pre-conference sessions is to allow conference attendees to learn about specific issues or organizations per their choice.
4. How are speakers chosen? - Speakers are chosen by the conference leaders in consultation with the organizing institutions.
5. How are sponsors and exhibitors chosen? - The conference doesn’t choose sponsors or exhibitors. Both are paid level ways of engaging with the conference and are initiated by like-minded organizations desirous of partnering with The Justice Conference.
6. How is the conference location chosen? - The location for each conference is chosen based on geography (weather), location and demographic, partnering organizations in the area and a viable host church. The final decision is made by the Conference Director in consultation with the Executive Director and the organizing institutions.

CONTACT US

HOW DO I GET INVOLVED?

Simply indicate your desire to be involved and in what capacity by contacting the conference at info@thejusticeconference.com or www.thejusticeconference.com