Reflections

 Today our cadets are signing their covenants. This very special, holy day for them has me reflecting over the past eleven years and the journey it has been. I remember how sacred and special our covenant day was in New York, and part of me grieves that our cadets, while their experience today is special, has not been given the same thought, care, effort, and intention.

Sometimes I get it right.

Many times I get it wrong. Really wrong.

Right now I am struggling--perhaps more than I ever have--but I am not giving up hope that the God who sees me loves me. This I hold onto. Covenant. And I am very thankful.

I know God is real and He is active. I know He is revealing in me things about myself that are not surrendered and that are painful. I have some inner work to do.

Holiness is a choice. It is a choice one must choose every day as they journey on in relationship with God. When we neglect our own personal spiritual care, for whatever reason (I am great at justifying my lack of discipline), Satan can take root in our hearts. He knows are weaknesses and always goes for the jugular. What a creep.

Today I prayed for and encouraged the cadets with a verse from Galatians 2:20: "Sono stato crocifisso cone Cristo: non sono più io che vivo, ma Cristo vive in me! La vita che viva ora nella carne, la vivo nella fede nel Figlio di Dio il quale mi ha amato e ha dato se stesso per me."

May this be true in my life today and every day. A choice. Daily.

"Benjamin's transformers and also real screens"

(Benjamin is dictating a blog entry to me, as he cannot be outdone by his brother, www.elijahseilerblog.blogspot.com. P.S. Having decent internet after a couple of months is really nice :) )

"Screens can hurt your head if you watch them too much. Transformers can transform into modes. Ultimate transformers are my favorite because there are all different kinds. Thank you for reading my blog."

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We are currently sitting out on our terrace where I believe the summer heat has broken (high for today is 86F). We are very much looking forward to fall for several reasons--routine, SCHOOL and cooler weather. The boys begin school on September 16th. The corps schedule is chopped up throughout the week with several activities in the later evenings, which keeps me from putting the boys to bed. Andy's office schedule is the same every day. We are adjusting to two our different appointments with different roles. This is the first time we are not working "together" and it feels weird, but we believe God-ordained.

Overall, we are doing well. Some days are discouraging (like yesterday when I got ripped off at the market and didn't have enough language to fix the situation as I also had a four year old having a tantrum after being taunted by his older brother), but then God encourages me in a myriad of ways.

One of my favorite memories so far is from earlier this week when I did a very American thing: cleaned the outside of the chapel bulletin board while blasting Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir. The boys played in the chapel and Benjamin danced on the street in his blue Power Ranger costume which attracted attention and kind conversation.

We had Banco Alimentare (food pantry) earlier this week and I got to help take groceries to a shut-in in the neighborhood. I loved being in her home and chatting with her for a few minutes.

Families on the playground in our neighborhood are beginning to notice us when we come to play. Earlier this week I had an excellent pastoral visit and prayer with a corps member while the boys played independently for about an hour on the playground. The playground may end up being my office since I do not have a designated one (which I kind of like--our role isn't to sit behind desks as corps officers, anyway).

People are beginning to recognize the lady in the uniform always with the two boys trailing behind or running in front.

Life is beginning to unfold and "transform."

On ten years as a Salvation Army officer

Ten years ago on 14 June 2009 I was commissioned as a Lieutenant in The Salvation Army and ordained as a minister of the Gospel in New York in front of family, friends, and comrades.

Called by God and compelled by the Holy Spirit to make a radical commitment to serving humanity in love.

Striving for holiness.

Ten years.

Six appointments.

A marriage. With two children.

Countless trials but boundless joys.

Many mistakes.

Maturing.

Journeying through life with beautiful people.

Tears shed.

Victories won.

Active relationship with Jesus.

Learning, growing, pursuing the Holy Spirit's presence in my life. Every day.


I get to wake up every day and do what I love. This is who God made me to be. I'm grateful. I'm a Salvation Army officer.

#onwemarch

From refugee to refuge

Someone has said that the Bible calls for compassion, salvation and equality. Due to our own closely held worldview we may be tempted to misinterpret scripture to assuage our own guilt and fear--or justify our actions-- which can lack compassion, the gift of salvation or encourage division and breed inequality.

Refugees are one of those issues for the world right now. Refugees exist throughout the pages of the Bible. I think firstly of Abraham and then the subsequent others who come along after him--Hagar, Jacob's sons, Moses, the Israelites...Jesus.

Matthew 25:34-30 talks about how we should treat refugees.

Personally, I strive to live out this scripture and have committed my life and literal vocation to doing just that but I know at times I fall short. I don't want to be apathetic to anything that is close to the heart of God and have no interest in being detached from the struggle, pain and suffering that many of our fellow humans live. In other words, I don't want to be another cog in the machine and a part of the problem. I believe in a God who is the solution and want to be a bringer of that news of everlasting hope.

But being comfortable is so nice--especially as a "righteous" person. We do a lot of good--the "most good." And it can be complacent every now and again.

And this is where I--perhaps we--go wrong. We cannot be truly "comfortable" when the least of these is not. And they are not. Some here in our own streets in Roanoke, in our programs, and some around the world. LORD, I don't want to just be another do gooder. I want to live out what I fervently attempt to preach and teach.

The most interaction I have personally with international refugees is during Christmastime as our Angel Tree program provides new toys, coats and clothes. I am always humbled by the resiliency and fervor for life these warriors possess.

Spending a couple of weeks in Europe allowed me to see this international refugee crisis issue up close and personal and it was convicting, awkward and uncomfortable. We saw firsthand the struggle and the pain for some refugees.

In a remote part of Italy we learned how refugees are cared for and attempt to integrate into the community.

In another city we were stuck on an overly crowded bus where a verbal altercation turned physical altercation broke out between a refugee and an Italian man. The tension was more than palpable as the overly crowded bus of co-conspirators were bystanders and participants as the situation rolled on off the bus. I prayed for compassion in those moments and my heart felt sick for the entire situation.

And then we saw it in another city. And another. And then we came home.

Here Andy and I were, on holiday as Americans, witnessing and experiencing things as we blended in like everyone else who does not see or chooses not to see what is around them and can do so based on unearned privilege. It felt shameful to me.

And then I turn left on the Elm Avenue exit from the interstate every day to see men panhandling and they are, in a way, refugees. Sometimes I make eye contact, which encourages an active attempt at solicitation when really all I want is to acknowledge their humanity and fulfill my desire for connection with their daily struggle from a safe distance. And then I say a quick pray for them as I hit the gas pedal, of course.

They have no sense of safety or belonging. Everyone feels better if we don't see them or have to interact with them. We-the people of God--ignore them. Sometimes we may try to help, and do help, but we are still in control of it. We still have safety and belonging and they do not.

I believe that striving for biblical justice calls us to be willing to risk our own sense of belonging and, at times, our safety. Imagine how different things would be if we asked the refugees in our sphere of influence what they felt they needed rather than what we think they need. What if we listened rather than spoke? Would our practice to the least of these be different? I'm a relationship person so I'd like to think there would be more time spent on building lasting relationships and less time on giving/doing stuff. You know, kind of like our relationship with Jesus.

What if we built a refuge with the refugees rather than brought a refuge to them? What if we lived out compassion, salvation, and equality to the least of these?

The holy discontent of an uncomfortable stomach bug

The beauty of entering into a beautiful home that has been freshly painted, while we've been basking in God's creation and studying God's Word this past week was only heightened as we all got to lay down and sleep peacefully in our comfortable, familiar beds. Ahhh...the simple things of a beautiful life. Thank you, LORD. I am grateful.

Andy and I prayed together before bed, as is our custom, that today would be a day of Spirit-filled worship with our corps people and that we would get to witness new people come to a salvation experience (which has been happening most Sundays and it is AWESOME). We prayed that the Spirit would come and sit heavily and make us all uncomfortable. I fell asleep so excited to worship with our corps people today and woke up that way, too.

And then Benjamin didn't wake up at his normal time. I thought he was just tired from the busyness of this past week and so I let him rest and did the rest of the morning routine. Andy left extra early today as being away from the office all week had him just wanting to get there. Elijah was dressed, fed and happily playing while waiting to leave for church.

When at the last possible minute Benjamin was still was not awake I went in to wake him and get him dressed. As I picked him up from his slumber (by the way, I am usually VERY strict about not waking sleeping babies!--but I really wanted to be at the corps in time to prayer walk our neighborhood!), he made a quiet moan and then vomited all over my uniform and himself. That rich bile color and smell... not what I was planning for this morning!

Naturally I became quite concerned as now the "Bible Conference bug" has made its way into our house through our most vulnerable member. Being quite candid, I'm disappointed that I will not be at the corps because I know God is going to do something good with our people and I want to be with them. Today is also the day of our monthly soldier's meeting which means I'll miss that and all of the covered dishes that go along with it. I really love our new corps people and value the time we have to live in community with them. I don't want to miss out! They bless me!

So here I sit. Thankful for personal time to worship and to listen. I'm reminded of Colonel Janet Munn's words this week at Bible Conference as she spoke about Luke 13 and the "disrupting faith" of the bent over woman whom Jesus healed on the Sabbath. Jesus challenged the oppressive status quo and made everyone uncomfortable. In my personal experience of the mighty moving of the Spirit, it can be uncomfortable. Rather than exist in the tension of the discomfort we oftentimes squelch the Spirit and move on with our formulaic worship wondering why we have the same results or no results. I think we do this in our personal time with God, too. Naturally we don't like feeling uncomfortable. We like routine and predictability but perhaps God has other things in store so that we totally depend on Him.

Colonel Munn asked of us, "what gets us bent out of shape and disrupts our faith?" While this question can go two ways, I suggest that the discomfort of a stomach bug has disrupted my faith this morning in a positive way. I will rejoice in it and use this time wisely as it is a special, unexpected gift outside of my Sunday morning norm. Thank you, LORD. Thank you for the holy discontent brought to my heart this morning from a stomach bug.

Sycamore

This house.

This is the house where our oldest son learned to walk, talk and feed himself. I remember one night we came home after a long car ride (from vacation, I believe) and he just ran up and down the same stretch of hallway for about an hour as he had recently discovered running. He also fell down the stairs in a superhero costume for the first time in this house.

He was potty trained in this house. Had his first nightmare in this house. Prayed for many people and welcomed many guests in this house--friends, family, people who were homeless.

This is house is where dear friends realized dreams come true and were able to adopt their baby and bring him to our home from the hospital for a few weeks.

This house is where we attempted a cook out with about 40 of Andy's closest officer friends (sessionmates).

This house is where many have been prayed for, cried with, feasted around the table and more.

This house is where a dear friend facetimed with me while I was having contractions with our youngest baby to watch my mommy take her last breath.

This house is where we brought our baby home to from the hospital--where he learned to crawl and speak his first words and express his personality.

This house is where an 18 year old girl was fostered, cared for and loved for a year. This house was there when she graduated high school and left for college.

This house was our home. It was good to us and we have tried to be good to it.

This house held our sorrows and our joys. The rockers on the porch participated in Elijah seeing sunrises, listening to rain storms, and listening to the birds sing.

This house was a refuge in times of deep trial.

This back yard was here countless hours of play was spent imagining, dreaming and having fun. This backyard even hosted a "castle," a "fishing boat," and a "water amusement park." This back yard hosted lots of cookouts with good company and my first ever garden attempt where we picked our vegetables together as a family and ate them.

This house was refuge for our teenagers--a safe place with legit wifi.

This house hosted strategic planning sessions for advancing the Army mission forward, prayer meetings, CEP meetings, discipleship classes and even DIY Home League nights.

This was a good home. I will miss it. I pray the family moving in loves it as much as we did and makes many happy memories here.

Thank you, 1323 Sycamore.

The "almost, not yet" time

"Do you know that there's a halfway world between each ending and each new beginning? It's called the hurting time, Jean Perdu. It's a bog; it's where your dreams and worries and forgotten plans gather. Your steps are heavier during that time. Don't underestimate the transition, Jeanno, between farewell and new departure. Give yourself the time you need. Some thresholds are too wide to be taken in one stride." -The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George.

Leaving Murfreesboro, TN. A hard appointment that we have loved well. Heading to Roanoke, VA. A hard appointment that we will love well. Thank you to so many in this sweet community who have warred with us.
~~~~~

My Covenant
Called by God
to proclaim the Gospel of our LORD and Saviour Jesus Christ as an officer in The Salvation Army.

I bind myself to this solemn covenant

to love and serve Him supremely all of my days,

to live to win souls and make their salvation the first purpose of my life,

to care for the poor, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, love the unlovable, and befriend those who have no friends,

to maintain the doctrines and principles of The Salvation Army, and, by God's grace to prove myself a worthy officer.

Done in the strength of my LORD and Saviour, and in the presence of the Territorial Commander, training college officers and fellow cadets.