the sound of my voice

A friend has been organising compline prayer via zoom on Sunday evenings during this odd pandemic season where we aren’t getting out much. It’s just 20 minutes of responsive readings and a short meditation—a poem or short reading. Just 10 of us speaking truths into the computer camera, united in our isolation. Proclaiming unity by sharing truth. It’s been a  place of solace for Wayne and I. A place where we have no responsibility. A place we are free to receive. 

But after a few weeks we said yes we will participate a little deeper, Do one of the readings, or two. And we read, precious words, truth to sustain us in difficult times and to encourage our hearts. 

Afterwards a message comes from my friend. ‘Why did i well-up so much when I heard each of you two Platts reading the bible aloud last night?’

Yes, why? Well because we had been in a group together a few years back. A group that read the bible together. In that same wider group of friends we also had a season of recording bible readings—our own audio bible reading plan—cooked up at a new years day discussion around our table. I think we called it ‘read the bible to me.’ It was a group that loved each other. 

And last week a friend tweeted that she had been recording for the new her.Bible. An audio Bible with women’s voices. I got very excited. I even said to one group of colleagues that maybe I was too excited about this. Why? one man asked. Because my experience with audio bibles has been like a call back to listening to the radio as a child. Doesn’t anyone else think these recordings sound like American radio presenters? Or some people swear by the David Suchet NIV recordings. But hey I’m a mystery fan—so Suchet will always be Inspector Pirot to me. That doesn’t exactly mesh with the Psalms or even I Peter. So I was very excited. My colleague said he would check it out. Why? Because his mother used to read him the bible out loud.  Oh, that a memory of a mothers voice would draw us to holy reading….

So I get the app going, I listen to one of the gospels. It’s good, I’m happy. But then I finally listen to Ecclesiastes. Is that my friend’s voice? Yes, it is. She’s not my friend down the road, she’s not a friend from church or work or school. She’s an author I met on a ministry trip. I did a writing workshop with her—on poetry. And here is her voice reading poetry—and suddenly I hear more than the scripture. I hear a strong brave woman. And I met her again on another trip and I have her books on my shelf. I keep listening and i hear her speaking about Jesus. I hear the wise words she said to me when we spoke at a table in the corner after the event. She is my friend and the sound of her voice calms my heart.

Is that what made my friend ‘well-up’ when we were reading during compline prayer? Is it that the sound of our voice brings so much more that the words? 

And Peter, what did he hear when Jesus asked him, Peter, do you love me? Did Peter hear all the times Jesus asked questions, do you want to be well? What do you want? Who do you say that I am? Why are you so afraid? Did he hear all the times he pulled Jesus aside and asked for help? Did he hear the compassion of the Jesus’ heart that raised a widows son?

But I guess my real question is what do people hear when they hear my voice? Especially my kids. Do they hear fun, compassion and love? I hope so. I’m sure they hear other things too…But I’m going to keep speaking so they have a fuller range. 

And it’s late and I’m writing this in the living room and a big spider is running across the floor so that’s all folks.

 

Given

My mother has this thing. A hobby horse, soap box, a campaign she is battling. She told me about it a year ago and it sounded familiar, like she had told me before. I agreed with her but didn’t have the same ferocity of spirit attached to the cause. But lately it has been growing in me. Not just because it is a wrong that needs correcting but because the wrong is blocking out a truth that is starting to impact me as I ponder it. And I wonder if you too have had this block, this detour that has in a subtle little way led you around a truth that could bring joy in this time of home isolation.

So complete this sentence, ‘this is my body, ____________. What came to mind? ‘Broken for you’? I have to admit it comes automatically to my mind. And since it’s been pointed out to me, well I’m noticing that others say it too, from memory, like they’ve heard it over and over.  And I’ve been watching a lot of online church during the lockdown and I’ve heard it several times. 

But we know that Jesus didn’t have any broken bones through his torture and cruxifixction experience. It was a fulfilment of prophecy that not one bone was broken. But we have a wider usage of the word broken. We often use it to mean emotional collapse. He was a broken man or She broke down at the news. We even talk about spiritual growth as being broken and then God restores us. I’m not arguing against any of those statements; I was broken by a cancer diagnosis. It’s just that we miss the point. 

The word is given. This is my body, given for you. That’s what Jesus says.  You might be reaching for your bible right now not really believing me. I did the same thing. And then I saw it in Luke. And then the other verses start crashing into the consciousness, ‘for God so loved the world that he gave…’ ‘the gift of God is eternal life….’ ‘he gave gifts’ 

Evidently upon further investigation the phrase ‘broken for you’ snuck into our tradition through the KJV translation. And there was some carry over in thinking that the verb for breaking the bread also applied to Jesus’ body. But you’ll not see it in the newer translations that take more manuscripts into account and have a more extensive look at the greek.

I just want to celebrate that Jesus gave his body for us. That he walked into the suffering. That he willingly laid down his life as our sacrifice to make payment for our sin. 

So then next time you're prompted to remember Jesus through the bread and the wine, read from Luke. and remember the giving nature of our heavenly Father who gave his son for us. And it would make my mother smile.

Luke 22:19

And He took bread, gave thanks, broke it, gave it to them, and said, “This is My body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of Me.”


*written 29 April 2020 during the pandemic lockdown regulations

Revive!

Well, it seems I still have a blog! At least I'll find out as soon as I publish this if it still works.

I can't even tell when the last post was made, but I can tell that it was before cancer.

And today is after cancer. I still have my blog on Caring Bridge. I've had such a good response to that and so many people have commented on my writing. But I didn't start that to write, I did it out of desperation; a way to communicate with a large group at once. And I've been blessed by so many responding in prayer and encouragement. But I've kept the subject matter on that site limited to cancer related stuff and wonderfully life now has a lot more stuff than just appointments and crying into my granola in the morning.

And I'm going to this conference next month in San Jose, CA. More about that later.

saying no

This morning while skimming twitter I came across an article by Michael Wong who was quoting Peter Drucker. This is what stuck in my head. Don't tell me what you are doing, tell me what you stopped doing.

Well, that has led my mind in all sorts of directions. Things I stopped doing but wish I hadn't done. Things I stopped doing but feel guilty about because I still have the expectation that I will get them done.

And all the things that I'm 'doing' but maybe not very well, or at the expense of other things. The basis of the article was that poor leaders try and do to much, don't delegate enough, etc. So much of my picture of a good mother means that I can't delegate those things. Do we delegate the baking of Christmas cookies to the local bakery? I seem to have delegated the Christmas Card making--but still have a high expectation that I will send at least a few cards to the far flung reaches of the world where my friends and family reside.

The reality is that without thinking about it I am saying no to things--maybe things I really want to do--things I think the Kim in my head would do--but the reality is that Kim likes to be with people, likes to talk, likes to do things together as team. A lot of the things I don't get done, just involve me. How can I turn them into team events--especially living with 3 introverts?

Well, just needed to ponder on that topic and didn't feel like writing it on paper, needed to type--racing thoughts helped by racing fingers. The real miracle is that I was able to log into this blog! Ha!

Wayne and I were told by a friend last week that we were the only people she knew that read so much and actually thought about how we were living--she is quite perplexed by us :). Maybe we overthink a few things . . . but I really do want to be someone that just didn't live 'by accident'. I want to make an impact on the world. I want to be all that God made me to be. I want to take advantage of the learning opportunities around me and I want to pass on what I learn to others.

Well, now I need to go buy Christmas presents, wish someone was coming with me.

I'm in!

Well, it hasn't taken as long as I thought but it looks like I've found a way back into this blog. But it seems have multiple profiles on Blogger--not really helpful and I'm not sure how to fix it. But I want to start communicating this way again so I'll have to figure it out somehow. I'm sure there is a blog on how to sort it out!

Need to try this!

Pecha Kucha Training Bite: http://youtu.be/wGaCLWaZLI4

Friday night and Jessica has come home for the weekend. Seems like we've crossed into another season of life just because she now has a real job. Its a job that makes her independant, but also needing us in new ways.