Hello friends,

How’s life treating you? 

I hope that you are hanging on to hope no matter what’s going on.

But do you ever wonder how Jesus would ask that same question if you casually bumped into him standing in line to pick up his favorite drink at Starbucks?

Using my healed imagination, He would probably drop the line from Matthew 11 1almost every time: Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion, Georgina?

The grace in His questions would bring tears to my eyes. Then He’d probably look at me with empathy, place his hand on my shoulder, smile, and say, “Would you let me help you carry your burdens? Would you let me teach you how not to get ahead of yourself? Are you willing to let me show you how to succeed at being human?”

And, of course, I would say: Yes, Jesus, I do! Then, He’d smile and say, “ok, then the first thing you will need to do is rest.

The simple truth Jesus conveys in Matthew 11 is a foreign concept for those of us trained to prove ourselves and earn every bit of space we occupy by our productivity. If that is the only truth we’ve ever believed, this new way of Jesus is hard to accept.

Rest is a discipline that was foreign to me, but over time and with the help and wisdom of others, I am in the process of learning to rest. My writing angle is not one of an expert, but I am also not an amateur. I am somewhere in the middle.

People say that life comes at us fast, and it does. As I grow older, I feel that reality more than ever. We get caught up in the whirlwind of every task, relationship, and project, and all this stimulus drains us.

Rest is a spiritual discipline, a practice, and a lifestyle.

I attended my third Soul Shepherding Institute retreat in Bells, Texas. If you’re new around here, I go there as part of my spiritual direction training. A spiritual director is like a guide and an ambassador of Jesus who helps foster a space for our soul to express its woes and joys.

Today, I want to share with you what I call the ritual of space. The phrase came to me in a session as I described my spiritual disciplines to a directee.

By definition, ritual means “a set of actions performed in a regular way.”

Perhaps you might think you don’t have any rituals, but if you pay attention, you will find that you do.

The following is a description of mine, not a prescription for your life. It is up to you to find what works and what fills your soul with God’s peace.

My favorite ritual, the one that makes my life lovely, is what I do every morning, no matter where I am in the world. It looks like this: I wake up, stretch, get out of bed, use the restroom, brush my teeth, and drink water (because I don’t know about you, but I wake up thirsty!). I pour a cup of coffee, light a candle, open the shades, sit on the sofa, read a devotional, and meditate in silence before sunrise.

This ritual of fostering space for my soul saves my life daily.

In every way, we humans look for evidence of stability and something we can count on each day. This regular practice does it for me, no matter where I am. I regularly make space to enjoy Jesus through a bible verse, the birds chirping at dawn, and how my body breathes slow and deep in perfect peace.

Back at the Ranch, I hear a horse neigh as the sun rises. The Texas fog has not yet lifted, and I feel like my cabin is sacred. Jesus’ invitation to come and get away is not a far-off concept but a reality I revel in for five days. I have four hours of lessons and practices before my TLC time. (To Love Christ). “I relinquish my agenda for this day, oh God,” is the prayer within my heart.

I have learned to hold the five hours of my TLC time structure loosely because sometimes, memorizing Psalm 119 is not what my soul needs but a nap. Yes, I said it: a nap! Because, gosh, people, I don’t know about you, but sometimes, taking a nap resolves 80% of my problems just by resetting my brain.  I laid my blanket by the edge of the pond outside the chapel. I needed to experience God outside without confinement. I am the one who needs space. He does not.

So, I chose to look on up into the sky and let the wind soothe my worries. Clouds roll by, my perspective begins to clear, and heavy things become lighter. My problems are there, but God’s presence has shrunk them to their proper size. I am not even worried about bugs crawling on me. Nothing matters, just the beat of my heart in His. A tear dripped over my cheek, and then another. I am not sad, but I feel real. What do we do now, I ask? He says, “Shh, let's just lie here and enjoy each other’s company.” More tears.

I let myself float into the generosity of His grace flooding the moment. God hosts a space for me to exhale all my woes and receive what only He can give–restoration.

Suddenly, I realize that the Kingdom of God is the treasure hidden underneath the rubble of all my worldly distractions. I linger in this space where nothing else matters, but Jesus and I entwined. I want to stay here forever, but moments like these are just a preview of coming attractions.

I came home a few days ago, and my challenge will be to establish a ritual of space to hold more of God’s presence in the midst of my hectic life.

Faith tells me Jesus will help me figure it out, and the answer will come. And I will remember to lean into silence because that is where God is the loudest.

I hope you stay and read along. I pray these words will help you find your very special practice of loving Christ.

As always, thank you for being here.

I will leave you with a prayer.

May we trust in the practice of rest.

May we be intentional with time and space.

May we look for glimpses of God’s grace.

May we linger in His embrace.

May we welcome the silence today.

In the Name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,

Amen.

Until next time,

Love God, love you, love others.

Hello friends,

It's another Friday on this journey we call life. I have been battling a pesky cold this week (hence my stuffy voice).

The song ‘Stand’ by the famous 90’s group REM has been playing in the background of my mind since my plane landed on US soil.

And it goes like this:

“Stand in the place where you liveNow face northThink about direction, wonder why you haven't beforeNow, stand in the place where you workNow face west, think about the place where you liveWonder why you haven't beforeIf you are confused, check with the sunCarry a compass to help you alongYour feet are going to be on the groundYour head is there to move you aroundSo, stand in the place where you live…”

The Cambridge Dictionary defines home as “a place where you feel like you belong because you have a lot in common with the people, the culture, and the way of life.”

The need for belonging lives deep within our human heart. Whether that sense in us is healthy and grounded or not, we are all searching for a place that welcomes us just as we are.

As of the very second I write to you, 8.1 billion people live in this world—lots of people… in a vast world.

God, in His infinite wisdom, appointed the time and place where you and I would be born. However, our journeys may take us to different geographical points.

We have a time and place to become whoever God created us to be, and our intention helps us make sense of time and place. Through contemplation, I stop long enough to see where I am, who is with me, and how amazing this place we call planet Earth is.

I can set an altar for God in the places of the world where my feet stand as my heart burns a fire of love for God and the people around me. I can set a flag of the Kingdom of Heaven in every bit of Earth my feet touch because the world is God’s, and I am on borrowed time.

Pictures cannot do justice to the scenery I saw during my European trip. But here’s one that drew these words from my heart.

God of the Austrian Alps, I praise you for your acts of power.

It is within those moments that take my breath away when I know I am always at home with Him. Anywhere and everywhere, we are one. I am always at home in the world because I am with God, and God is with me.

Home is a complex concept to explain, yet the most valuable to grasp. Home is a heavenly and earthly connection with my soul. I am here as I am there. I am always home in the Father’s love. Home is my mind at peace, the sound calmness within my emotions. Home is within the walls of my house and my city. Home is also every far-off place in the world I visit. Every place that nestles my head as I fall asleep. Every place that took my breath away and drew out Hallelujahs from my heart.

God whispers, “As you stand where I lead you daily, geography will be different, but wherever you stand in the world, it will be your home. Because home in the world is where I am with you.”

And I reckon that Christ’s Spirit is in the world I live in. He isn’t gone; he remains. Traveling the world has changed me; it expands my imagination, and the good news becomes exactly this—Christ is everywhere I go.

You and I won’t find home looking for it in a geographical place but by looking at a person and that person is Jesus. His welcoming presence, His delicate rest, the nurturing meal of the bread of life, a warm shower cleaning my soul, fresh towels embracing my skin, a comfortable bed to restore my body —He is home for my wandering soul.

And I think the message is clear: God calls us to stand and be present in His presence wherever our feet touch. No matter where life takes us, standing with Him brings us home.

Perhaps you find yourself in the liminal space where you are desperately searching for home, and it seems that you have lost your sense of direction during the process. This prayer is for you. Set your hand on your heart and breathe in, “Father God dwell in me as I dwell in you.”1

No matter where we go, if we intentionally stop, close our eyes, and see with our hearts where we are and who is with us, we will return home to God’s love. But it takes a deeper look past what you see on the surface.

Are you, dear friends, willing to look for a home right here and now?

And if you feel called and are willing to explore a life outside the borders you inherited, don’t let fear or insecurity stand in your way.

Let’s pray.

Father,

May the comfort of your love lead us home to you.

May every false precept of home be shattered in us so that we can stop our aimless wander.

Help us to stop long enough to sense You along the way of our lives.

May your Spirit lead us home to be with you.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Until next time,

Love God, love you, love others.

1

John 15:4 AMP

Hello friends!

Am I ever so glad to be back at my familiar spot, as my fingers eagerly type away the words I have been holding for the last few weeks.

I am back in America, the place I call home. Wanderlust has taken hold of me for the last nine years, but Europe has become a particular place of wonder for me. The old world, as they call it, has indeed captivated me. There’s something about traveling to places that are ancient compared to the United States. It is true that I gravitate toward anything or anyone that has more experience than me. I love to learn vicariously through the lessons they pass on.

While there are so many stories that I want to share with you today, I could not begin to unpack all that I’ve experienced without first writing to you about the practice of living in the moment.

You see, living in the moment has saved my life. It has helped me learn the art of reality and perspective. But there is one downside of living in the moment, and that is —forgetting.

Have you ever had an amazing moment when everything was going the way you’d hoped and dreamed, your senses were heightened, and your breath was deep? You felt most like yourself and in tune with God and the world around you, and then suddenly, that sense was just poof — gone.

That sense begins to dissipate, and remembering what it felt like begins to fade. There is nothing we can do because the next moment is ushered in, and we find ourselves in the now, and the now is—well, you know—completely different.

Every moment is a miracle; life in me is not guaranteed, which is why I think it is nothing short of miraculous. An opposite view of that lies in our consciousness of the moment and how we qualify it. But that is unfair to do because any given moment is full of the divine presence of God, as it can be. Every present moment has no competition, and it is not judged in comparison to any other in God’s reality.

For the past nine years on the path of recovery, learning to live in the moment has saved and healed my life. The practice of being present, aware, and alive grounds me and heals my nervous system. But living in the moment also means letting go of the moment that just was —even when that moment was just marvelous.

There were many marvelous places in my trip. Like the first time I saw the Swiss Alps, I couldn’t help but whisper, “Wow, Lord, you really outdid yourself .” Or the swans floating on the lake near Neuschwanstein Castle, where I couldn’t help but wonder — if Earth can be so beautiful, I can only imagine what Heaven will be like.

We were born with an innate desire for beautiful things and places, for a God who revels in beauty created us in His image. Our souls also look for beauty everywhere we go, and those ever-fleeting moments make up the life we build.

I consider myself a bit of a mystic, simply said, one who pursues experiencing life in a spiritual and transcendent way. In the moment when I flew over the big blue ocean, I set my intent with a prayer: “Father, show yourself to me in the world.” This is the kind of prayer that gets an answer in the most unexpected way. So He did, and what I saw was people made in His beautiful image, just like me. We don’t experience perfect people here; we experience perfect moments. Glimpses of divine order in every person and place, stamped with God’s love for us, display the most profound state of present reality.

The secret to living a contemplative life is learning to live in the now because if the now has never been sufficient, we will always be grasping and floating, far from being grounded in God’s reality.

We can only handle so much beauty and so much pain. The microcosm of the moment helps us get through life in the balance of the two.

I’ve been back for a week, and Vienna is no longer waiting for me but is now behind me, waving at me as if saying it was nice to see you here, too.

Friends, this moment right here and now is all we truly have. Let's make the best of it; no matter where we are in the world, this is where we should be now. Tomorrow, we shall see.

For now, I leave you with a prayer for the week ahead.

Father,

I pray that we may be filled with the knowledge of your will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding so we can walk in a manner worthy of you and live the life you are calling us to live.

May we fully please you in the way we think, feel, and act, bearing fruit in every good work and purpose.

Increase in us the knowledge of who you really are.

By Your grace, grant us the power to experience the realm of your glory.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit,

Amen.

Until next time,

Love God, love you, love others.

(Prayer adapted from Colossians 1:9-11)

I am a work in progress. Undoubtedly. Whenever I think I have arrived, life shows me back to the nosebleed seats.

I am recovering from perfectionism. Had I told you that?

Y’all, this is my thorn.

Paul, the apostle of Christ, begged and pleaded with God to remove his thorn to no avail.

Jesus answered, “no, but”…my grace is enough for your issue.

Somehow I, too, constantly run to the same old alley that leads nowhere, begging God to relieve me of my reoccurring struggles.

Faith is not a formula, although I’d like to think it is. This fits into my earning mentality.

Let me give you an example.

God’s word instructs me, “as far as it depends on me, live at peace with folks.” So being the rule follower I am, I aim to be perfect at it.

I cultivate self-awareness. I practice contemplation. I see a therapist weekly. I attend CR meetings and have accountability partners. I eat healthy foods. I exercise. I read books.

I can go on, but you get the point.

Denial tells me I will avoid trouble if I do everything right.

Cause and effect. No true.

We grow up thinking we will get what we give, a cosmic delusion that accompanies us most of our lives until we know the Truth.

Jesus said, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”

I wonder if those who heard him say this in real-time got it. I wonder if they knew the Way is a process. That Jesus is the process of seeing God and becoming fully alive.

Jesus is the Way to the Truth that brings us to Life.

-gf

When I think of the word process, the image that pops into my mind is that of a photograph that needs to be dipped in acid to be developed. Sometimes, I feel like that, immersed in acid inside a dark room, hung to dry, and waiting to be exposed.

A process is an ever-changing formula, so it is unequal to faith which is constant.

Faith is required to see past the pain and discomfort of a process. Faith believes there is always a plan—a purpose for everything under Heaven.

So whenever life dips me in the acid of other people’s dysfunction and mistakes, I must trust the process, not the formula.

Because no matter how hard I try to be perfect, I cannot control people’s choices and perceptions.

Although I cannot change their behavior, what I can do, is not allow it to change me.

There isn’t a day that goes by without wishing the seduction of a perfect life would disappear with a touch of a magic wand. But God doesn’t play make-believe.

He is Truth.

Sometimes God answers our deepest yearnings with a no. This isn't a no to our well-being. It's a no to what we don't even know is happening beneath the surface of our desperate requests.

This isn’t neglect; it's protection.

So to reconcile the splashes of people, I reckon this is another opportunity to be processed and exposed to the brilliance of the light, the clarity of God’s wisdom. His focus is the result –life and more life.

I wrote a poem this Winter because poems can help us hold hands with lament and process.

I hope you like it.

Buried underground, dead to the world, your metamorphosis has begun.

Don’t try to hold on to your life; you’ll destroy it.

You will fall asleep —a seed

deep in the secret place of God’s earth.

Through the dark padded soil, you will emerge to the light,

waking up to discover you are now a tree.

Soon from you

branches will begin to sprout,

birthed from your essence, broken and multiplied.

Your life in exchange for more life, you have abandoned yourself to love,

and by love,

you have become eternal.

-Georgina Fourzan

May we leave our earning ways and receive grace freely.

May we come to believe peace can only begin within.

May we trust the process God has for us.

May He break us and bless us so we can multiply.

And may we stay on the Way, in Truth, toward Life.

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Amen

Until next time,

Love God, love you, love others.

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