Katy Perry's song Roar hit the airwaves en force last month.  Since then it has become an anthem for discouraged, seemingly-defeated-but-resilient people everywhere.  Just yesterday Richard showed me a YouTube video with kids in a children's hospital lip-syncing to this song.  There's no way around it--I'm inspired.   

Given my 'no love' stance toward Taylor Swift, you might assume Katy Perry was on my 'do not listen' list as well.  But you'd be wrong.  If I were interviewing nannies, I would go with Taylor, but otherwise--Katy's my girl.  I can't help it.  She has talent and soul.  And, every once in a while I see remnants of holy in her.  

With the release of her new album, Prism, this week she's been widely interviewed about the inspiration for her songs.  It doesn't take a degree in poetry to gather that she's writing about a time of difficulty in her life.  In her interviews she confirms that she went through a period that took a toll on her self esteem.  But it was out of that darkness that Roar was birthed.  (Apparently hyper-sexuality was also part of the healing process, but I'll leave that alone for now.)  

As a woman who has a daughter and who works with women leaders to help them find their voice, Roar should be my theme song.  You can't hold me down! I'm a fighter!  You hear my voice...like thunder, gonna shake the ground!  I'm a champion!  Roar!

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There's only one problem.  God isn't asking me to roar.  I'm not saying that having some fight isn't often what's called for, I'm simply observing that the way of Jesus is, more often than not, a much quieter path.   

Today I wanted to roar.  I'm physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted.  As I meditated and prayed this morning I secretly hoped I would emerge from this time feeling energetic and ready to take on the world.  After all, isn't that how the agreement works?  I plug into the power source of the Holy Spirit and, just like my iPhone in the morning, I leave fully charged and ready for another day of productive activity?  

I'm currently taking a class on the Disciplines of the Spirit and one of our textbooks is a favorite of mine...The Spiritual Disciplines Handbook by Adele Calhoun.   This week we completed a brief assessment designed to surface where God might desire to shape us.  I faithfully completed the assessment and moved on to the reflection questions.  What I hoped would come out in my reflection was a sense of deep rest and encouragement.  I found myself drawn to the disciplines of Sabbath and listening to God.  
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Inwardly I crouched, waiting for my time to roar.  

And then, he spoke.  

"Kelli, ask a friend to show you your blind spots."  
"Kelli, you've wounded another friend.  Ask for forgiveness."  

So, let me clarify.  I feel tired and vulnerable and God wants me to invite someone to point out areas of weakness of which I'm blissfully unaware.  And then he wants me to admit to another that I've neglected our friendship.  

Just what I was hoping for.    

After accepting his invitation I am more amazed at God's faithfulness and grace.  But I do not feel like roaring.  On the contrary, I feel more dependent, quieter, still tender.  

I love Katy Perry, but, for now, she'll have to roar without me.  

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I don't drive in the slow lane.  At least not until last week.  Now I'm hooked.  

I didn't set out to conduct a personal experiment--it just sort of evolved.  Last week I headed over the hill to San Jose to see my spiritual director.  On my last visit I was pulled over for the first time ever and politely handed a speeding ticket.  This time, I decided to leave early and drive the speed limit.  

This is new territory for me.  I left in time to arrive fifteen minute early and I instantly felt guilty.  There is so much I could have accomplished in that fifteen minutes if I weren't driving.  But within minutes I decided to make a game of it.  What would it feel like to stay in the right lane for the whole 45 minute drive?  I felt ready for the personal challenge.  

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As cars sped around me I felt an initial tinge of anxiety.  It was really more a sense of inferiority.  I was driving slowly and I felt stupid.  Recently Madison and I saw a car with this sign taped to the back--"New driver.   Just learning stick shift.  Sorry."  I wished I had that sign on this particular drive.  

(Quick aside--if you're a right lane driver already, this blog will only disgust you.  I've got problems and let's just acknowledge that you're better than me and move on.  You don't need to read to the end because you've already mastered the art of slowing. ) 

The first ten minutes were a battle of fighting my well developed impulse to move as quickly as possible.  The next ten were a battle of fighting my new self-awareness.  It didn't take long to uncover some serious pathology brewing beneath my need to speed.   

Here are the top four:

Image Management.  I drive a mini-van and I feel the need to represent mini-van drivers everywhere.  We are not unskilled or unimportant.  We have places to be too.  For some reason,  I believe that my superior driving skills will leave people with a good impression of me.  For what end?  I do not know.  

Competition.  I like to win.  And most things can be turned into a competition--even if I'm just competing with myself.  Can I get there faster than I did last week?  Can I accurately decipher traffic patterns?  Can I safely weave my way through the checkerboard-like traffic?  It's a sickness--until you need me to get you somewhere fast, then suddenly, I'm your best friend.  

People Pleasing.  I hate to be in someone's way.  So, if a driver gets up too close on my rear bumper, I usually feel bad.  Like I did something wrong.  The least I can do is get out of their way so they can move forward at the pace they desire.  This is closely linked with my desire that other people get out of my way when I'm in a hurry (which is most of the time).  

Over Optimism.  When calculating how long it will take for me to get from point A to point B, I am always optimistic about the conditions.  I know which lanes are fastest at any given point of a commute.  I know that if I make the light at King, I'll have to speed to make the light at River.  I know to take King on the way to school and Mission on the way home.  I know short cuts going either way on Morrisey.  But I never factor in a car turning left or an accident or a pedestrian throwing off my groove.  All things that occur regularly.  Truth is, I over estimate the positive factors and pretend the roadblocks don't exist or that I can find a way around them without much cost.  If that isn't a metaphor for my life, I don't know what is.   

Twenty minutes into this experiment and I was hooked.  It was so calming!  I didn't worry about changing lanes or getting out of people's way or calculating how to get around slow vehicles and I could feel my blood pressure dropping.  Plus, with all that strategy-building space freed up in my brain, I could think about other things. Creative things. Prayer, even.  

I arrived at my appointment feeling relaxed, peaceful and centered.  Weird!  After that I headed up to San Francisco for an extended time of reflection and then an evening meeting.  I decided to drive slowly for the entire day.  What I found fascinating, was that everything was less irritating.  Traffic jams didn't faze me.  Slow cars in the fast lane had no negative impact on my day.  Someone wants to merge in front of me?  Go right ahead!  All emotions completely foreign to me in a commuter setting.  

On the last leg of my journey I elevated the challenge.  I was actually running late as I left Golden Gate Park to head to my meeting.  But I decided to continue my pattern.  Even running late, I found slow driving to be a balm to my soul.  And, when I arrived at my destination I was more settled and less frenetic.  I listened more attentively and was less tired after an evening of extroverted activities.  And, even with open highway, I easily stayed within the speed limit on my 90 minute drive home.  

And, yes, I'm aware we are celebrating my success at simply obeying the law.  Just go with it.  

It occurred to me in the slowness, that I'd heard about this before--this wasn't my idea.  When I returned home I pulled out my Spiritual Disciplines Handbook and looked it up.  Sure enough, there is discipline of slowing.  And--get this--one of the suggested exercises is (and I quote) "Intentionally drive in the slow lane."  

Way ahead of you Adele (she's the author).  

According to the handbook, the desire in practicing slowing is "to curb my addiction to busyness, hurry and workaholism; to learn to savor the moment."  She quotes Peter Kreeft--

But practicing the discipline is not the end goal.  It's simply a way to make space for God to do his transforming work.  In this discipline, I may see some of the following fruit (again, taken from the Spiritual Disciplines Handbook):

• keeping company with Jesus as I live at a saner pace
• freedom from an addiction to hurry or spiritual shortcuts
• patience--waiting with grace
• living the present moment to the full
• trusting God's unhurried time schedule
• freedom from addiction to cell phones, e-mail, instant messaging and all that speeds me up
• living the truth that love and hurry are fundamentally incompatible
• receiving interruptions graciously
• realizing the work of the Spirit is not an "instant" work

I'm reminded that this experience essentially resulted from a speeding ticket and my desire to not have that happen again.  Funny how God gets our attention sometimes.  But I'm ever so grateful.  

I'm looking forward to more days in the slow lane as I engage in the revolutionary act of "unproductive" living for the joy of sanity, freedom and trust in the long, slow work of God.  

How about you?  What is it like for you to choose to do things slowly?  How do you react to a slow sales clerk or a child who is dawdling?  I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Last week I promised to share some of the principles I'm using to clarify my voice.  It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I'm having serious doubts.  One of my chief concerns is that 'advice' blogs don't really feel like my voice.  But, what the heck--I'm in research mode so let's give it a shot.  

I've been thinking and rethinking and pondering and re-pondering.  And then it came to me...this isn't working.  

Instead, I started listening. 
 
If this is the voice God gave me and the message he has for me to share, then I should probably get his thoughts on what to say and how to say it.  True to form, he hasn't laid out a four-point plan or wrapped up his thoughts in a concise revelation.  But as I've been intentional to spend extended time alone with God, some things have strangely started making sense.  Its less  a detailed syllabus and more cartoon map.  There are general shapes and major landmarks, and the distances are a little off .   But I trust the details will get filled in as I actually start traveling.

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Mistakes are painful.  Therefore, I want a fool-proof plan before I take any action, complete with pie charts and line graphs and clear, measurable outcomes in place.  

Just kidding. 

In fact, part of the process seems to be trial and error.  Not as a cruel test, but as a refining tool that shapes and sharpens as I learn to trust God's direction and the values he has been developing in me.  Don't get me wrong--I like a good goal.  But to overuse a cliche'--it's not the destination, its the journey.  

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If I'm listening to God and I feel strongly about something, I should just go for it.  After all, it's probably divinely inspired, right?  

Maybe, maybe not.  

One of the difficulties I experience as a human is the deceitfulness of my own heart.  Such a drag.  And along with that condition comes a propensity to both overvalue some of my insights and ideas and undervalue others.   I've been known to trivialize important topics and magnify mole hills.  I've used humor inappropriately and sometimes been careless with my freedoms.  All this to say...my heart cannot be trusted.  It may be a starting point, but in anything I say or do I want to first ask what will be accomplished by my sharing.  Does it build up the church?  Is it honorable?  Does it accurately reflect the heart of God?  Does it help?  Is it necessary?  

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In the interest of full disclosure...I'm on a lot of cold medication right now so this post likely doesn't meet any of the criteria I just established.  But just in case you're also under the influence of similar drugs (or, very different drugs that alter your reality) let me summarize:

When discerning my voice--the thing God uniquely put in me--I have found it helpful to:

• Listen (and not over analyze),
• Take it one step at a time (not expecting perfection), and 
• Commit to being a voice that builds up and reflects the heart of God (not just any old muck that bubbles to the surface of my heart).  

Once again, not sure this is of any assistance to you at all, but, since I'm not going for perfection, I'm willing to give a shot!