Anne Marie Miller

Category: Hmmmm

  • Worry, Be Lifted

    Sometimes I worry so much I make myself sick to my stomach.

    Physically sick.

    Not able to eat anything for days sick.

    Sometimes I get in my car on the way to a meeting or an errand and think, “I could just keep driving forever…it’s the only way out of this mess.”

    The heart loses hope easily.

    (At least this girl’s does.)

    As I’ve found myself in precarious situations, I’ve started taking my own advice and speaking freely.

    Opening up to friends.

    Seeking wise counsel.

    Listening…

    Confession is never an easy thing.

    It’s never easy to look someone in the eyes and say, “I screwed this up,” or “I have no idea what to do,” or “I’m totally losing my mind here,” or…

    “I.

    Need.

    Help.”

    But the freedom that follows, that washes over our worried, tired hearts gives us a sense of peace.

    Confess to each other, so you can live together whole and healed.

    It’s not a physical healing.

    It’s a lifting of a burden off one’s spirit.

    That’s actually what that verse in James 5 means.

    So…

    If you’re feeling heavy…

    weighed down…

    alone…

    ashamed…

    confused…

    afraid…

    helpless…

    tired…

    Confess.

    Be healed.

    (Trust me.)

    Worry, be lifted. Be carried by others. Be carried by grace.

  • Do You Feel Lonely?

    I went to a movie by myself the other night. It was the first time I’ve done that in a long, long time.

    Intentionally I slid through the doors late, after the movie had started, and was out and in my car before the first credit rolled.

    If people saw me alone, what would they think of me?

    Friendless?

    Unlovable?

    Awkward?

    Even though now, more than maybe any time in my life, I feel the arms and hearts of friends around me, sometimes I still feel lonely.

    My friend Jamie posted this video on Twitter last night. And it helped me realize that sometimes being alone is okay. In fact, it’s more than okay.

    Lonely is a freedom that breathes easy and weightless.

  • The Story of Now

    I was having a discussion with a friend recently about how, when we share our stories, we often refer to things that have taken place in the past.

    I used to be addicted to drugs.

    My marriage almost fell apart.

    I was an alcoholic.

    My kids were headed down the wrong path.

    I was the most selfish guy you’d ever meet.

    Our stories are important. Nobody can argue the power of God’s faithfulness shown in our past.

    May I make a suggestion?

    Let’s also begin sharing The Story of Now.

    Let’s share the brokenness that is happening in our lives at this very given moment — The places we aren’t sure how God will heal, if he will heal them. The places that frighten us. The places that we think will make a great story in the future…but we don’t want to talk about them in the present tense.

    Do you recognize your Story of Now? I’ll go first.

    I am learning I am a terribly prideful person in a passive-aggressive way, so it’s not easily noticeable. It has been catching up to me in my relationship with God (“I don’t need you”) and others (“And I certainly don’t need you!”)

    Although I’ve never actually verbalized those words with anyone, my actions have spoken them. I need to find humility and express it in loving ways to the people around me.

    So, what’s Your Story of Now?

  • Show Me How to Die

    We love stories of restoration. We love being unfettered and passionately full of life.

    But before freedom comes oppression; before redemption comes loss. We want to be rescued from our pain, but often prematurely.

    Do we know how to die? Are we willing to?

    Do we know how to fall soberly on our face and stay in the painful, the most incomplete place where we empty ourselves until we admit our own desires, our own comfort, our own abilities are useless?

    Do we truly take on the form of Christ’s sufferings, a suffering even to death?

    A friend recently said to me in an email, “This is the Gospel made practical. Everyone wants the power of the Resurrection. Few are willing to endure the crucifixion to get there.”

    Think about it.

    I played this song (lyrics below) 17 times on repeat a few days ago. I had to keep playing it, because I had to keep breaking down my heart little by little…

    “Show me how to die…”

    Before writing any blog posts, before any book is published, before any stage I step on or listening to any person I meet. Before I spend my money, before pretending to be perfect – to have it all figured out, before going to church, or calling a friend…

    Before any good or bad or noble thing…

    “Show me how to die…”

    ———

    You could plant me like a tree beside a river
    You could tangle me in soil and let my roots run wild
    And I would blossom like a flower in the desert
    But for now just let me cry

    You could raise me like a banner in a battle
    Put victory like a fire behind my shining eyes
    And I would drift like falling snow over the embers
    But for now just let me lie

    Bind up these broken bones
    Mercy bend and breathe me back to life
    But not before You show me how to die

    Set me like a star before the morning
    Like a song that steals the darkness from a world asleep
    And I’ll illuminate the path You’ve laid before me
    But for now just let me be

    Bind up these broken bones
    Mercy bend and breathe me back to life
    But not before You show me how to die
    Oh, not before You show me how to die

    So let me go like a leaf upon the water
    Let me brave the wild currents flowing to the sea
    And I will disappear into a deeper beauty
    But for now just stay with me
    God, for now just stay with me

    (“Show Me” – Audrey Assad)

  • When God Isn’t…

    Before heading out on this cycling trip, one thing I was curious about was how “God would show up” and I was really excited to “find Him” in different ways.

    Anyway, I thought I had it figured out, this “God showing up” thing. In my fantasy I was leaning head-down into the wind, pathways of sweat cutting across my face and rolling off into the road behind me. I heard the vibration of my bike moving across hot asphalt as blades of grass and insects buzzed next to my feet. My chest moved in and out as my lungs expanded and emptied with each breath. I felt the movement of God in me. I felt alive.

    We’re now on our fourth week of this trip and my God-fantasy is just that. A fantasy. There have been no magic burning bushes or epiphanies had on the open roads. In fact, it’s maybe been the opposite.

    And as expected, the unexpected has happened.

    Physically, the heat and climbing escalated my almost-fixed-but-evidently-not-quite heart problem. That knocks me out from riding every mile on certain days with big climbs or 100 degree plus weather.

    Didn’t see that coming.

    On top of that, the day before two really great rides in Texas, a component of my bike broke to an extent I couldn’t effectively ride. I had planned to do my first century ride into Anson, TX (which is close to where I went to high school) but because I couldn’t get my bike fixed before that day, I ended up driving the van.

    In keeping a healthy perspective, my unplanned time in the van isn’t really a big deal. Before my heart surgery, simply walking to the van would have been tough. So riding 30 miles, 50 miles, 80 miles…any miles, really…is beyond anything I could have hoped for a year ago.

    But my perspective isn’t always healthy.

    I’ve been fighting with my “ideal” self – the athlete I was before my heart problems. I know my muscles are strong and can handle these long miles. Except for the literal pain in the butt from sitting on a six-inch seat for seven hours, nothing really hurts.

    If only my heart worked right, this wouldn’t be such a struggle for me.

    If only…

    The unexpected has thrown my spiritual fantasy out the door as well. And once again, it has to do with my heart.

    What I expected is something emotional. Cathartic. Exciting. Clear. Maybe even miraculous in an obvious way. I’m supposed to be writing another book and planning my future as an author and speaker. I wait each day, hoping for a revelation on what I’m supposed to do when I get back in August and each night go to bed as empty handed as I woke up.

    If only…

    What I am realizing is the extent I let my expectations control me. My heart – both physically and spiritually – had formed expectations for this trip. Expectations that aren’t being met. I’ve spent so much of my spiritual life coasting from a mountain top to a valley and back up again, so I only expect to see God at the top or at the bottom on a roller coaster.

    What happens when there is no roller coaster?

    What happens when the land of my spirit is flat?

    How do I find Him?

    And when I don’t “feel” Him…where do I turn?

    Quite honestly, I find myself turning the other way.

    (Evidently I am not gifted with patience.)

    “What? You’re not here? Okay. Fine. I’m gonna try running over there to find you.”

    I’m left breathless and exhausted at the end.

    My heart…It’s not perfect.

    It beats too fast sometimes.

    It gets anxious.

    It doesn’t like to wait.

    It likes to experience the highs and lows, but never the middle.

    The middle is too quiet. Too tame.

    And as such, too threatening to my comfort.

    In the same way I can’t control how my physical heart functions, I can’t control how God shows Himself, or how I see him.

    What happens when God isn’t a feeling? When He isn’t a high or an adrenaline rush or a moment of clarity when I expect Him to be?

    God simply is, and I need to simply be.

    I need to realize that in that holy moment of simply being, it’s not about my expectations.

    It’s about His.

    Resting.

    Existing.

    Living.

    Being.

    Right here. Right now.

    In this moment.

    With this heart beat.

    And this one.

    And that’s all He wants (and expects) of me.

    —-

  • What’s One Thing Christians Do That Upsets You?

    This post is to help a friend of mine with a project he is doing.

    Sometimes, there are people who are Christians that live like Jesus.

    They radiate. Grace drips off every word they speak.

    Are they perfect?

    No.

    But as I’ve found these rare treasures of people, I hold on tight…because rare they are.

    They truly love unconditionally, forgive without hesitation, and aim for peace and faith.

    —

    There are also people who aren’t Christians that live like Jesus.

    They’re generous. Kind. Encouraging. Patient. Loving. Joyful. Nonjudgmental. Good.

    I like these people a lot because interestingly enough, they inspire me to follow the character of Christ.

    —

    And then, we have people who claim to be Christians, however, their actions consistently (keyword: consistently – I realize nobody is perfect!) prove otherwise.

    They’re mean. Entitled. Hateful. Greedy. Hypocritical. Two-faced. Self-righteous.

    These people sometimes make me cringe.

    I cringe when I realize I exhibit those characteristics, because again, nobody bats a thousand. When people act the opposite of the way Jesus did, or opposite of the way he outlined in the Bible for us to live, it simply breaks my heart.

    When people see those traits (and those traits tend to yell a little louder), that’s how they perceive Christians, or Christianity.

    I’m going to ask you a question, and, I want you to be cautious in your answer.

    **This is not a place to riff or to hate or to complain. Comments that are arrogant or jerk-faced in anyway will be deleted, and you know how infrequently I do that.

    What’s one thing Christians do or say, that upsets you?

    That hurts you?

    That doesn’t show an accurate picture of faith and hope and love to the world?

    (And maybe, instead of pointing fingers, feel free to use yourself as an example, as we all can certainly do that.)

  • Do You Remember Those Days?

    It’s Tuesday night. 7:15 pm, San Diego time.

    I haven’t opened my computer since Friday.

    To be fair, I haven’t been completely unplugged. I’ve been Tweeting, texting, and responding to a few urgent emails from my phone.

    But my computer has remained totally off.

    Dead.

    In my bag.

    It’s not like it’s broken. Or even that I’m missing my power cord.

    I just have left it off.

    It’s been busy. After Catalyst West, I spent the weekend hanging out with some very good friends I don’t see nearly as much as I would like to.

    And yesterday and today, I’ve been recording the audio book for Permission to Speak Freely.

    (Which was a blast, by the way!)

    I saw a Panera on my way out of San Diego and decided I might as well break the fast.

    And so I’ve been here – for three hours – catching up on the “work” side of my job.

    Last night, I went to the Sleeping at Last show in Hollywood. Sleeping at Last has been one of my favorite bands for the last few years, and I’ve had the chance to see them live a couple of times.

    Each time has been a profound experience.

    Each time has been uninterrupted.

    But this time…

    I let the phone vibrating in my pocket interrupt a few times.

    And I couldn’t help but think about a million other things…in addition to the poetry and music happening in front of me.

    It made me remember the days when computers weighed 25 pounds and had to sit on desks at home.

    When mobile phones only made phone calls.

    And for a moment, I missed the past.

    I missed the lack of distraction.

    Do you remember those days?

  • If You Could Ask God One Question…

    What would you ask?

  • What if You Miss Something Important?

    “…There is inculcated in us such a fear of being out of everything – out of touch, left behind.

    This fear is a form of tyranny…”

    …The conviction is that it is precisely in these (collective) preoccupations that the Holy Spirit is at work.

    To be “preoccupied with the current preoccupations” is then the best — if not the only — way to be open to the Spirit.

    Hence one must know what everybody is saying, read what everybody is reading, keep up with everything…

    …or be left behind by the Holy Spirit.

    Is this a perversion of the idea of the church – a distortion of perspective due to the Church’s situation in the world of mass communications?

    I wonder if this anxiety to keep up is not in fact an obstacle to the Holy Spirit?

    ~(adapted from a journal entry by Thomas Merton – February 24, 1966.)

    A few months ago I read this in one of Merton’s journals, and I was astonished that a man, practically living in solitude in the 60s, could have such perspective on a culture of mass communication. We think this era is unique, but it’s not. It’s merely redefined using new forms of communication.

    I read a post on Tom’s blog about how he was scaling back in some of his online intake. His post reminded me of what Merton said, and I can’t help but wonder the same thing both pieces allude to…

    Do we stay plugged in because we’re afraid we may miss something (spiritual or relational?)

    Do we feel like there is more to miss simply because there is more being communicated?

    Is what we view as the things that connect us to information inhibiting our capacity to be aware to the not-so-obvious things in our midst?

    I remember unplugging during Lent last year. A few of my other friends did the same and we shared a similar story:

    When we were offline, the things happening around us were so much louder, so much more clear, and we were so much more present in them that it was like God screaming at us – through relationships, through nature, through solitude, through the seemingly mundane…

    What changed?

    Our input level?

    or God’s output level?

    —

    I would tend to think our input level. We quiet down, and we hear what’s already present.

    —

    What do you think? Have you ever wrestled with the fear “unplugging” brings? Have you experienced the radical change in God’s volume when you do unplug?