Fleshbook Weekly

Pete*, a regular customer and friend from my coffee shop, has had some life-shifting God encounters recently. I will be sharing his stories once Papa gives me the green light, so I won't go into detail now. However, he and I had a conversation yesterday that provides an added layer of relevance to both this edition of Fleshbook Weekly, and Pete's growing list of encounters.

"You told me God was going to reveal Himself to me in ways I could never imagine," Pete told me as I sat down.

A hive kept by Craig Adams, whose bee keeping practices
are as Spirit inspired as his Facebooking. (click for more)

"Now that you mention it, I remember saying something along those lines," I replied. I'd said it during a conversation we'd shared with Winter, which was the first of several of its kind to come after it. The discussion was full of stories and prayer, so the particular sentence that stuck with Pete hadn't really stuck with me. Funny how God speaks to and through us without our awareness sometimes.            

"Right, well I'm not quoting you perfectly accurate, but that's the gist of it. And I laughed then, but that's exactly what's happening." We both laughed. Pete's disbelief was not unmerited; his history with religion is a painful one, and the claims Winter and I made were bold at the least. I remember telling God afterward, look Papa, we spoke way too boldly for you not to back us up.

"I bought a Bible," Pete continued. "I've even been reading it. I feel like I owe you guys that much."

"Is it any different this time around?" I asked.

"Not really, to be honest. Still pretty boring. But I'm doing it because I feel like I should."

Kidney Roast Part 2: The Process

In-between laying hands on Jessie's kidneys, and writing "Kidney Roast Part 1," Papa and I did a lot of talking. I didn't realize just how much talking until I started writing Part 1, and the post grew far, far too long. If you haven't read Part 1, I recommend doing so before reading this post, for this will make little sense out of context.

Let's jump in!

One issue Papa and I talked about was why I wanted to write and share Jessie's story in the first place. Writing is a vital means of communication between Papa and I. As I wrote Part 1, God pointed out that if the current model of church, involving a building, programs, etc., isn't something I'm willing to embrace, I need an alternative.

I shared Jessie's story not only because she felt the tangible presence of God through me, but because I felt Him through her too. We shared the experience. "Kidney Roast Part 1" isn't just Jessie's story, but mine also. Shared experience is pivotal in my effort to illustrate an alternative to the church model I've rejected. 

Another aspect of my conversation with Papa revolved around personal growth, and further expounds upon the necessity of shared experience.

When I pray to heal people and ask what they feel, heat is the most common response. Jessie is the first person I've been able to confidently discuss the nature of that heat with. I  didn't know the relevance until I started perusing a friend's blog, Mobile Intensive Prayer Unit. Two posts in particular, "The Summer of my Discontent," and "ICU Being Healed," prompted me to email him and also taught me about this heat everyone was mentioning.

  

From ashes shall the phoenix rise.
From spro' and foam shall it be drawn.

When Kendal and I laid hands on Jessie the first time, I didn't know she'd felt any heat because I didn't ask. When customers came in, we abandoned our healing efforts. The conversation with her afterward went something like:

          How do you feel? 

          So much better, but still some pain. 

          Ok great! 

Round two, I'd had time to learn from our first attempt. I asked how she felt as we prayed, and after each interruption in our prayer I returned directly back to the task at hand. When I finally learned about the heat Jessie had been feeling, it still wasn't because I'd asked her about it. I felt heat in my own hands, and mentioned it without thinking.

 I realized afterward that I'd had a specific question on my heart, are you feeling any heat?, all along. But I wasn't confident enough to ask such a specific question, so I settled with how do you feel? 

Though on accident, I'd opened up conversation. This leads me to another point in my chat with Papa. Shared experience, I'll say, is the seed of community. Open communication, then, is the soil in which community flourishes.

Fleshbook Weekly

Technically, the meat of this edition of Fleshbook Weekly is actually a post on a friend's blog, The Pilgrimgram. This friend, who goes by Nor'West Prophetic on Fleshbook, shared a link to the post today, though it was written in 2007.

Interesting that Nor'West found it pertinent to repost today. In fact, it wasn't until a touch of research that I even noticed the post's age. As I read, I heard echoes of conversations Papa and I have been having over the past week about the vitality of community, provision and giving. I've got drafts in the works for upcoming posts on these very subjects. They're still drafts because I'm waiting for the right conversation with Papa to call them good. The post Nor'West shared strikes me as a significant element of that conversations.

Without further ado, click to read "Spend the Oil."

A poem about love by my friend Winter

Kidney Roast Part 1: The Story

Friday, my coworker Jessi and I manned the coffee stand at Group Health. Jessie just went through a round of antibiotics to combat a kidney infection, and has been feeling better. But yesterday, her kidneys were aching and negative side-effects from the antibiotics were beginning to cause problems.

During her bout with the kidney infection, Kendal and I laid hands on Jessie's back. She guided us to the location of her kidneys, and we prayed. Afterward, she felt better. We felt relieved that she was open to the healing idea and that we actually gave it a shot.


This time was a little different.

Jessie clocked out promptly at two p.m. and gathered her belongings. For the first time during our shift, there were no customers waiting to be served. So I stopped her and placed my hands over her kidneys. I began praying, giving thanks for who Jessie is and the health that is her inheritance. "The river of life flows from Your throne, which is inside Jessie and I. I release it," I said. And someone in dire need of a cookie walked up.

I stopped and served the cookie. Usually I would have considered the interruption the end of our prayer, but Jessie waited around and without hesitation I returned my hands to her back and continued praying.

Cupcakes and beer: an unexpected, Spirit-filled Communion.

Alberto and Miah, giving the mash a whirl.

Last week, Jeremiah (Miah) and I found ourselves in a cupcake bakery downtown Olympia, helping a friend brew beer. What a communion it turned out to be.

We helped our friend, Alberto, sanitize and clean his supplies, peel labels off old beer bottles (which we've been "helping" him collect for a few weeks), and lent a hand whenever the brewing process required lifting and pouring. We learned more than our heads could contain. Alberto has been a home brewer for seven years, and has a beautiful understanding of each ingredients' purpose in his recipes.

Once the initial work was done, we had to wait for our 8 gallon pot of future beer to reach boiling temperature. We waited, and waited some more. And it still wasn't ready.

Generally I hate waiting. But when communion strikes, waiting becomes the best part.

Miah and I brought beer. Alberto and his girlfriend brought pizza and left-over cupcakes (SO many leftover cupcakes). The couple who lives above the bakery brought Catch Phrase and a delicious, traditional Russian cocktail. We broke bread and passed a good hour or two in fellowship.

Fleshbook Weekly

I've had a startling and liberating realization recently: Facebook is the closest thing to organized church that I regularly "attend." For this reason, I've decided that I will share an insight my Facebook friends have led me to each week. The series shall be titled "Fleshbook Weekly." (If "Fleshbook" makes you say huh? here is something sort of like an answer.)

I participate in enough spirit-filled groups and follow the updates of enough spirit-filled folks, that any time I need an easy drink of milk, I can log in and find someone whose got one poured and chilling for me. Yesterday, a post in The Spirit World*, a group that consistently and intensively discusses off-the-wall topics like translocation and levitation, provided a link to the podcast below. 

Talk about milk. Ian Clayton, speaking from the Courts and Government Conference 2012 in Wales, hit on just about every key word Papa has spoken to me about in the past month. Divine rest, and praying into violent, threatening weather systems, have been on my mind a lot. "Rest means total tranquility in the midst of chaos," Clayton says."...Jesus had dominion over weather because he was functioning out of rest." He connects the two concepts as though they were never separate.

 "Everything must come out of rest. If it's done out of striving, and out of the work of your hands, then it will fall. Because what you do is finite. What He does is infinite." Bam. Fresh perspective, new insight, writing material, and a completely refreshed and rested mind. And I got it all while practicing yoga in my room.