Author Archives: Pam Teschner

Blank Spaces

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Some of you know that I’ve been retired for two months and have been wondering what I’ve been up to. Well, some art, some grandchildren and a lot of silence.

Over the past 12 months, God has erased three significant responsibilities from the white board of my life and brought me into a season of stillness and solitude – a blank space, so to speak. I was surrounded by people to help, problems to solve, answers to give, meetings to run to, places to go, projects and deadlines. Then I woke up July 1 and, poof, I was nobody and didn’t need to be anywhere. At week three, I felt a downshift and slowing on the inside. It’s very disorienting and redefining but gloriously freeing. And it’s an odd mix of grieving losses with joyous anticipation.

A dear friend recently reminded me of a quote from Oswald Chambers: When God gives you a blank space, don’t fill it in. So, I have been doing a lot of listening and contemplation and leaving the blank space blank.

Yesterday as I read from II Corinthians 3, verse 18 jumped off the page and grabbed me: And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.

David Benner wrote, “Contemplation is a way of opening our self to the ineffable – to something that is beyond us and upon which we gaze with awe.” He described it as “leaning toward God in faith with longing, openness and love.”[1] This contemplative quiet and openness to the ineffable has been transforming. God has brought me into a deeper knowing of Him. But, to my surprise, the path also wound through hidden places of my own soul.

I sought an encounter with God, but I first encountered the unwhole parts of me hiding in the shadows. Yet it was the encounter with my unwholeness that revealed how truly wide and long and high and deep is His love for me. He gently embraces me just as I am in my weakness and insecurity, and loves me too much to leave me there. His unconditional compassionate love for all of me is absolutely staggering.

In the contemplative quiet, He transforms me from the inside out to look and think and live more and more like Christ. So, I wait in the blank space and listen and gaze with awe upon the Eternal Majesty. In His perfect timing, He will show me the next step.

When God gives you a blank space in your day, your week or your life, you might want to resist the temptation to fill it in.

[1] Benner, D. G. (2010). Opening to God, Lectio Divina and Life as Prayer. Downers Grove, Illinois: InterVarsity Press.

Here am I

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Last week, I was struck by two statements in Isaiah 65:1-2. “To a nation that did not call on my name, I said, ‘Here am I, here am I.’ All day long I have held out my hands to an obstinate people….”

The vision of God calling and reaching out to people who disregard Him struck me deeply. Many times, I have disregarded God in the craziness and chaos of living life and distanced myself from Him. All the while, He says…Here am I, here am I. He repeats it to grab my attention and underscore His intent. All day long He stretches out toward me longing for me to reach back. It’s overwhelming and completely undoing that Yahweh, the Eternal Majesty, continually reaches for my self-centered preoccupied soul.

God is the silent footfall at my side leaving invisible tracks of glittering glory winding through the reality of my messy days. He does not pursue me for anything in me, but what lies in the core of Him. We are an undeserving obstinate people, that God deeply loves and gave His life to redeem. His open hands are an open door to a deeper dimension of knowing Him. I cannot get my mind around why the transcendent God would open Himself to a personal encounter with me.

When I seek Him and when I don’t, when I cry for help and when I’m self-sufficient, all day long He holds out His hands to me. Catch that? All day long He is reaching for you. Right now, before you read further, pause with that picture. Envision the open hands of God before you. Sit with it. Ponder it.

He is reaching through all of my life whether I see Him or not. He says, “Here am I” in the unfolding Spring bud. In the dropping Autumn leaf, “Here am I.”  In the first beat of a new heart and the stilling of another, “Here am I.” In the colors of dawn and in the deepest darkness of night, “Here am I.” When surrounded by a never-ending stream of issues and people and when alone in the silence of myself, “Here am I.” Here am I in your mess. Here am I in your joy. Here am I when you face challenges and struggles. I am named “God with you.” Name Me in your peace and in your turmoil. Name Me at the insurmountable and impossible. When the way ahead is unclear, here am I, I AM with you. See Me.

There’s a phrase from the movie Avatar that has found its way into my soul and into my dialog with God: I see you. It means, I see your love. I see your heart and soul for me and you mean everything to me.

Every moment holds the possibility of a personal, intimate encounter with the transcendent God. This is the sum and whole of the journey – to respond to His loving invitation and be filled with the fullness of His life. My part is to turn toward Him in trusting openness throughout my day, and say, “I see You.”

Why does He so persistently reach for me? What does He want? Does He want me to spend more time reading scripture, volunteering at church, taking up a cause, giving more money, helping people, surrendering my time and talents to Him, etc., etc.? I used to think so. Those doings are outcomes but they are not what God is so intentionally and passionately pursuing. Maybe He’s opening His hands to take my fears, my worries, my struggles and my pain so that I can rest in His sweet embrace and simply be with Him. His whisper of “Here am I” is His reach of tender compassion. He wants me see Him and sink into His love. He will do the rest as it most pleases Him.

I see You, and You mean everything to me.

Becoming

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The creation of a living being hidden in secret is as mysterious as it is miraculous. And we go on our way oblivious to the miracle.

Recently, I came across a video capturing the embryonic development of the Alpine Newt from a single cell to a juvenile. Photographer and filmmaker Jan van IJken captured the four week process condensing it down to six minutes of “otherworldly beauty.” Watch it here: The Science of Becoming

The single cell quickly cleaves into two cells, then splits into four, then eight, and soon the exponential growth of cells is untrackable. At one minute into the video, the embryo tucks into itself forming the gut. At the 1:45 mark, the nervous system begins taking shape.

At about 2:20 minutes, something even more amazing and miraculous appears in the growing embryo. Cells migrate, seemingly willy-nilly, across the surface. National Geographic author, Jason Bittel wrote, “Each is taking cues from the genetic blueprints within it as well as signals from surrounding cells to determine what sort of tissue it will become.” Clearly, each of the thousands of individual cells is being directed by the Creative Hand to its assigned place and the fulfillment of its purpose. It looks as though each is moving in rhythm with the Maestro.

By minute four, a beating heart and circulatory system come into mesmerizing focus. Red blood cells are coursing single file through feathery gills and tiny toes.

You and I started exactly the same way – one cell divided into two and life and growth began. Soon millions of cells began dancing to an unheard rhythm. Each directed by the Maestro in a great symphony of movement to its assigned place to fulfill its purpose.

You were programmed with a unique genetic code written by God Himself to make you exactly as He intended you to be. Cells followed His pattern on the pads of your fingers organizing into a one-of-a-kind fingerprint. Mysteriously, somewhere within and between neurons, your personality, gifts and sense of humor were created.

There was divine purpose in the making of you…every part, every cell of you. God intends that we continue becoming more and more like the image of Christ and thus more and more our truest selves.

You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank you for making me so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous—how well I know it. You watched me as I was being formed in utter seclusion, as I was woven together in the dark of the womb. You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed. How precious are your thoughts about me, O God. They cannot be numbered! I can’t even count them; they outnumber the grains of sand! And when I wake up, you are still with me!
Psalm 139:13-18, NLT

Eye of a Whale

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Being a lover of the natural world, I follow Natgeo (National Geographic) on Instagram. A couple of days ago a photo of a gray whale taken by Florian Schulz in a Baja lagoon froze my scrolling.

Photo by Florian Schulz.

Florian is a professional photographer specializing in wildlife and conservation photojournalism. This was his Instagram post:

“I was so touched by this whale mother. She moved so close that I could reach her. She looked directly at me, and I felt we had a silent conversation. No words, just observing each other. It gave me chills…there was so much wisdom radiating from her gentle look….”

Several things struck me as I read his post and studied the photo. The first arresting statement was that the whale approached him and moved so close that he could touch her. These whales actually seek human interaction and seem to enjoy it. Then she set her gaze on him and lingered there. His reaction to peering into the deep eye of this massive creature looking back at him was a profoundly moving experience. He was awestruck by the wisdom and gentleness radiating in her look and it gave him chills. Lastly, there was a silent conversation between them – a communication of knowing beyond the language of sound. No words, just beholding each other.

Such an obvious segue to the God who reveals His divine nature in the natural world:

The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are attentive to their cry. Psalm 34:15

We have a very attentive God who desires an up-close-and-personal relationship with us and seeks it relentlessly. He sets His gaze on us, leans toward us and yearns to interact with us. He is always looking into our eyes, always listening to our voice, and always thinking of us. We are never out of His thoughts, out of His sight or beyond His hearing. Nothing distracts His persistent presence from us.  

Charles Spurgeon wrote, “He observes them with approval and tender consideration; they are so dear to him that he cannot take his eyes off them; he watches each one of them as carefully and intently as if they were only that one creature in the universe.” [1]

Selah – pause a moment and ponder the implications of that. Read it again and linger over it. This both astounds me and humbles me when I reflect on my sporadic attention to Him.

A personal encounter with the Living God, looking at Him looking back at me, is profoundly moving. This massive Being desires our companionship beyond what our intellect can grasp. But the knowing of the heart – the very heart of spiritual knowing – is living so close to Him that you can reach out and touch Him. Most of the time, there are no words exchanged.

This transformative knowing requires that we step out of ourselves and our preoccupations with the crises and demands of these shadowlands and soak our souls in the quiet depths of His unfailing everlasting love. When you drop the barriers in naked vulnerability and slip into His love, it will give you chills of the best kind and will utterly transform you from the inside out.

This knowing of God through a genuine living encounter with Him comes from “sitting at the feet of Jesus, gazing into his face and listening to his assurances of love for me. It comes from letting God’s love wash over me, not simply trying to believe it. It comes from soaking in the scriptural assurances of such love, not simply reading them and trying to remember or believe them. It comes from spending time with God, observing how he looks at me. It comes from watching his watchfulness over me and listening to his protestations of love for me.”[2]

Spend some time, some days, soaking in the assurances of Psalm 139 and just behold Him.

Looking into the all-seeing eyes of the Holy God looking into the soul of me, I anticipate reaction. But His eyes don’t widen in shock or His brow furrow in disapproval, nor does He turn away in disappointment. Incredibly, His heart melts in compassion and His eyes glisten with tenderness. I am undone by unfailing, unflinching, unhesitating love and sink into the eternal depths of the eyes of the Living God.

[1] Spurgeon, Charles H. (1988). The Treasury of David, Volume 1. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson Publishers.

[2] Benner, David G. (2015). Surrender To Love: Discovering the Heart of Christian Spirituality. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press.

Rekindled

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Journal entry: 11/19/2018
As I write this, a small flame from a little clay oil lamp on my
desk undulates in rhythm with the slight currents of air. If I
squint, it throws a golden beam at my heart.
Every morning when I rise, I light it and watch its flame dance
and sit with God. A while back, the flame grew smaller and smaller
then silently extinguished leaving a thin wisp of smoke that
quickly dissipated. I hadn’t been paying attention to the level
of oil and had neglected its filling.
I am the clay container filled with the sacred oil of the presence
of Jehovah. There is a small flame in my heart that is a piece of
His holy fire. It dances in rhythm with the breath of His Spirit.
My soul needs continual filling and refilling every day to keep
the flame burning and radiating its light and warmth. My neglect
will quench and extinguish the flame of His Spirit.


The fire of God’s presence is always in me and with me, but I’m not always present with Him. Sometimes I slip into relying less on Him and more on me to deal with life’s difficulties and demands. I can go a day then another and another neglecting a fresh filling of His Spirit. In time, my flame grows smaller and smaller then silently extinguishes leaving a thin trail of smoke. My insides grow cold and dark, and I grope for a way out of the emptiness.
Over the past 15+ years, I have had numerous conversations with women at various retreats and events who were overwhelmed by life, losing their grip on hope and simply going through the motions. Woven into their stories was a thread of longing for rekindling.  We were made to experience the reality of the living Christ in our sorrows, struggles, dryness, and exhaustion. And so we long for it. But life tramples hope, shreds our hearts, drains our joy and leaves us spent, frayed and empty clinging to the broken pieces. I have lived seasons in all of these places.
We are containers by divine design, made to be filled with God Himself. We were meant to be aflame with all the fullness of His life, and receive grace upon grace in every situation and every struggle. Sometimes I let circumstances distract and drain me, but as soon as I look to Him in humble submission and faith, the flow of His life and power is unleashed again and He astounds me with grace upon grace upon more grace and still more grace.
Lord, I am humbled by your unrelenting grace even when, and especially when, I get lost in the struggle and neglect You. My heart burns to know You more and to be inflamed by Your presence. I am Yours, Lord. I need You in every moment of every day. Throw a golden beam of Your fire into my heart, and fill me with all of Your fullness.
 

Bottle of Tears

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Two weeks after my last blog, God lifted my mom from the confinement of a deteriorated painful body and took her home to paradise. So, I’m walking through the grieving process and redefining myself without her and all that went with caring and advocating for her. My grief is an odd mixture of relief and joy and a painful vacancy. I know many of you have walked through the same emotions.
Loss takes many forms – the death of someone very close to us, the death of a relationship, betrayals, the loss of ourselves to circumstances and mistakes, the loss of health, financial loss, years lost to unhealed brokenness, loss of spiritual vitality to the devouring demands of life, or the loss of innocence.
I’ve walked through grief a number of times over the course of my life, but there was a season that was especially devastating and life-altering. In the darkness of that valley, Jesus sat with me and grieved with me as a Wounded Healer. It was His tender compassion that knitted the shattered pieces of my life into a new thing. A vision of the compassion of the Living God is absolutely transforming.
In all their suffering he also suffered, and he personally rescued them. In his love and mercy he redeemed them. He lifted them up and carried them through all the years. Isaiah 63:9 NLT
The Lord is like a father to his children, tender and compassionate to those who fear him. For he knows how weak we are; he remembers we are only dust.                   Psalm 103:13-14 NLT
You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.                                                                      Psalm 56:8 NLT
So compassionate is God toward us that He is deeply moved by our sorrows and feels them with us. He pens them in His book with scarlet ink issuing from His great heart. His tender compassions toward us never fail, never grow thin or exhausted. They are fresh and new at the first light of each day.
So attentive is He to us that He sits with us in our grief and so close that He collects every tear in His bottle of remembrance. Our tears are precious to Him – not one falls to the ground to be forgotten. They are bottled with the tears of Jesus and sealed among His treasures.
Sometimes our tears spill from shame and repentance. These tears open heaven and literally transform us into the image of Christ.
One of the Pharisees asked Jesus to have dinner with him, so Jesus went to his home and sat down to eat. When a certain immoral woman from that city heard he was eating there, she brought a beautiful alabaster jar filled with expensive perfume. Then she knelt behind him at his feet, weeping. Her tears fell on his feet, and she wiped them off with her hair. Then she kept kissing his feet and putting perfume on them.                Luke 7:36-38 NLT
The immoral woman was on the floor behind Jesus in her guilt and shame, unable to meet His eyes. She held His feet and wept, then wiped them with her long hair, dripped perfume on them and more and more tears. It wasn’t the expensive perfume, but tears spilling onto His feet that filled His senses and stirred His heart.
I imagine she left with new tears brimming in her eyes – tears of worship and deep joy. Among all the fragrances of worship, it’s the sacrifice of praise from a heart ravished by His compassion that rises as the sweetest.