Shannon S. McKee

musings and moments

Sometimes it Gets Ugly When Expectation and Reality Meet

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2016When I declared 2016 to be my year of the soul, I was imagining something peaceful and reflective. A year full of contemplative moments. Days dripping with meaning and contentment. With candles and depthy, soul-stirring music accompanying me at every turn.

What I did not anticipate were more of the ugly cries than my usual. I did not expect to have my heart so bound up by the lives of some tiny people in Costa Rica. Or that I’d be so overwhelmed by the plight of women and children all over the globe even though I don’t believe feminism has the answers to their angst.  I didn’t think I’d wrestle so much with issues of my own calling and vocation. I did not anticipate wondering if I could handle another second of mothering or growing so stinkin’ weary of making yet another meal for my family. No one told me that I might stress-eat a whole bag of Dark-Chocolate Milanos because raising two very strong-willed teenagers is scary and hard when your soul is engaged in the whole ordeal. Or that I’d have terrifying moments of wondering if God really meant it when He made me the p-dub (pastor’s wife) or if I should really be the one leading our precious church’s women’s ministry. You could never have told me that I’d leave my Bible closed for a few weeks at a time and just want to play Sudoku on my iPad instead.

I didn’t expect to feel so raw and exposed. And want to run from that. Not what I expected at all, actually.

As if a person could really tend to the garden of her soul without getting dirt under her fingernails.

There are many outward forces that can render a garden fruitless. Crushing storms and hungry critters and root-killing pests all threaten the health of a garden. I know this to be true – literally and figuratively. I even sort of expect them to come in this sin-stained world of ours. I have even trained my mind and heart to be on guard against them. But, there are also inward forces. Weeds that have been left to grow hidden and unchecked. Or, worse yet, that have broken off at the surface but not been pulled out at the root. Invasive vines that intertwine themselves with the good plants. Depleted soil that hasn’t been cultivated, fed or watered.candles (1)

It has been these inward things that are the source of my surprise and angst. I’m not sure there’s any easy, painless way to deal with those. Deeply rooted weeds don’t get yanked out without some digging and disturbing of the soil. Removing invasive vines can leave a barren spot in the garden or render a good plant weak for a time.

So, my year of the soul has been much harder than I expected it to be. I’m not saying it’s been bad or that I want take-backs. It’s been profoundly good. In the eternal, God’s economy kind of way.

Thankfully, I’m not toiling over my soul garden alone. Never alone. I’m cooperating with the Master Gardner. Yes, sanctification is a joint affair. I am tending to my soul by working out my salvation with fear and trembling. But, He superintends the work, pouring out streams of living water for the withered plants and cultivating the soil that surrounds them. He supplies what I need to say “no” to another bag of Milanos. His mercies are new every single day when I feel like I don’t have what it takes to mother or be the p-dub. He feeds me through His Word, speaking grace and mercy over my soul. He supplies me with a husband and an abundance of dear friends who know me and speak truth to me and laugh with me and pray for me. He surrounds me with stories of redemption so that I do not lose focus on the bigger, kingdom-sized picture.

And, sometimes, He gives me candles and peaceful moments in beautiful spaces, too. Because He’s just like that.

When the Headlines Feel Crushing

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Photo cred: Newspapers B&W by Jon S on Flickr
Photo cred: Newspapers B&W by Jon S on Flickr

There’s a lot of bad news in the headlines lately. Refugees in crisis, terrorism lurking around every corner, less-than-admirable politicians, heroine addiction taking one life after another, continued trafficking of human beings, routine traffic stops ending in death, a racial divide that seems to be widening instead of healing, the organized, pre-meditated slaughter of cops in Dallas… I could go on, I know. These devastating headlines seem to just keep coming. It feels crushing at times, doesn’t it? But, the truth is, there’s nothing new under the sun. We have been being cruel to each other since our earliest days.

But knowing that doesn’t really make it any easier does it? It doesn’t ease the angst we feel when we wake up to more bad news. My fear is that in the midst of all the crap going on in our world today, it’s easy to point the finger at all the junk “out there.” As if all the yuck is in all the other people – not me or you. That you or I would NEVER be a bad cop or shoot up an LGBT bar or lie about doing something shady/illegal or get addicted to heroine or get sassy with a cop or make a selfish decision that takes advantage of someone else or profile another human being based on skin or age or socio-economic status or religion.

Maybe it’s time for us to stop looking at all the nasty stuff “out there.” Maybe it’s time for us to stop making sweeping statements about complex issues and instead reflect inward. Please join me in using current events to go before the Lord and ask Him to search OUR hearts. I’m going to ask Him to try MY heart and see if there be ANY wicked way in me. Is there any root of racism or violence or instability or self-protection or hatred or rebelliousness that is embedded in the recesses of my own heart?

I like to think that I would always be on the right side of history – that I would have helped slaves along the underground railroad or that I would have protected Jews from the Nazis. I never think that I would have been on of the one’s standing by. I rarely assume I would be the Jew or slave in need of help. And, I definitely never think I would have been one of the perpetrators.

But, the truth is, we all have some of the yuck in us. Only God’s grace can remove it. And, even then, we still live in these broken vessels with our mixed motives. We need to examine our hearts before Him regularly because sin is deceptive. We are susceptible to believing its lures. Every one of us.

Here’s the thing: I don’t really know what was going on in the heart and mind of Alton Sterling or the cop who shot him. But, I do know what goes on in my heart and mind. That I can examine with humility and brokenness.

Join me in praying for our world, yes. Absolutely. It’s a mess out there.

But, also in praying for transformation in OUR own hearts. Because, let’s be honest. The mess isn’t just out there.

Reflections on Prince’s Death and the Power of Music

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music_logoWhen I first saw that Prince died yesterday and noticed how Facebook was exploding with memories tied to his music, I felt a little bit of a pessimistic tinge rear up in my heart. “Justice Scalia dies and I barely see a peep from anyone in FB-land about his legacy. Prince dies and he’s everyone’s most life-changing hero ever. Pfft.” (Insert accompanying eye roll.)

This is what I thought, dear friends. There it is. A peek into the mind of Shannon. For better or for worse.

But then… I got down off of my high horse (it’s kind of stuffy up there) and reflected for a moment on the posts. Why was his death evoking such passionate posting on social media?

There are probably several reasons. To name a few –  he was clearly a talented man, he stayed in MN instead of moving to LA, he wasn’t afraid to be himself and inspired others to do the same, and he spared us from Kanye-esque proclamations about his own awesomeness. Those things are all true and we appreciate him for them.

But, I think even more than that, it’s because music is powerful. It impacts us. It evokes memory. It stirs something in us and pulls out strong emotion. Whether it’s the lyrics themselves or the score behind them or the memory that accompanies them, songs move us. Scientists even suspect that music can have healing effects on the mind and body.

I see the power of music when my son wants share a song from his Lecrae rap playlist with us – instead of just keeping it to himself. I see it when my daughter loses herself in a lyrical performance. I feel it in my own soul when a song moves me to tears as I drive along alone in my car. Or when my heart catches during a movie scene because of well-placed music. It wells within my soul when I am sitting in an orphanage in Costa Rica watching children worship in words I can’t even understand. I experience it when I unexpectedly hear the song that I used to sing to my kids when I tucked them in at night.

Music. What a powerful gift it is to us!

On that note, can I ask what music you are enjoying lately? Can you share it with me in the comments below? Because I’d love that little peek into your life. And, maybe I’ll find a song or two to add to my own playlist {wink}

As for me, I’ve discovered a new-to-me artist in Andrew Peterson. I don’t know how I have missed him all these years but I am loving his music because he’s a storyteller.  And, when you put story and good music together… well, it’s nearly perfect for a girl like me.

You can get a little taste for him here. This song is particularly meaningful to me right now because my own kids are in the throws of figuring out who they are. I’m reminded lately that being a teenager is hard. Really hard. A lot is going on all up in those hearts and minds. Instead of being frustrated with them in this phase of life,  I’ve been trying to put myself in their shoes more and more. Peterson’s fatherly perspective helps me do that. It leads me to pray that I would love Caleb and Madison well through this season of life even though it’s hard on all of us some days. And so I am thankful yet again for the power of music…

 

The Keeper of the Stream – A Parable

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There once was a town high in the Alps that straddled the banks of a beautiful stream. The stream was fed by the springs that were old as the earth and deep as the sea.

The water was clear like crystal. Children laughed and played beside it; swans and geese swam on it. You could see the rocks and the sand the rainbow trout that swarmed at the bottom of the stream.

High in the hills, far beyond anyone’s sight, lived an old man who served as Keeper of the Springs. He had been hired so long ago now that no one could remember a time when he wasn’t there. He would travel from one spring to another in the hills, removing branches or fallen leaves or debris that might pollute the water. But his work was unseen.Munroe Falls Metro Park, Indian Spring Trail

One year the town council decided they had better things to do with their money. No one supervised the old man anyway. They had roads to repair and taxes to collect and services to offer, and giving to an unseen stream-cleaner had become a luxury they could no longer afford.

So the old man left his post. High in the mountains, the springs went untended; twigs and branches and worse muddied the liquid flow. Mud and salt compacted the creek bed; farm wastes turned parts of the stream into stagnant bogs.

For a time, no one in the village noticed. But after a while the water was not the same. It began to look brackish. The swans flew away to live elsewhere. The water no longer had the crisp scent that drew the children to play by it. Some people in the town began to grow ill. All noticed the loss of the sparkling beauty that used to flow between the banks of the streams that fed the town. The life of the village depended on the stream, and the life of the stream depended on the keeper.

2016The city council reconvened, the money was found, the old man was rehired. After yet another time, the springs were cleaned, the stream was pure, children played again on its banks, illness was replaced by health, the swans came home, and the village came back to life.

The life of the village depended on the health of the stream.

The stream is your soul. And you are the keeper.

(taken from John Ortberg’s book, Soul Keeping)