Amy Boucher Pye

Category: Christian life

The Lord is my Sat Nav

Our host for the day was the wonderful Janet Aspey, minister of Altrincham Methodist Church, who also led the worship with Fiona Simpson – a legendary folk singer with a most amazing voice!

I’ve written several times here about personalizing Psalm 23 and how meaningful that can be. Over the weekend I led a day for women at Altrincham Methodist Church, and ended the first session with this exercise. A few of the ladies read their version out at the end, which I loved hearing. And I’m so thrilled to share two of them with you today.

They both resonate with me, but my family and friends will see the particular ways I can relate to the first one! Driving and directions are for me huge areas of challenge, and I love the thought of the Lord being my sat-nav. Mabel R. Nyazika has kindly shared it:

The Lord is my sat nav
I shall not be diverted
He makes me stay on course for my sanity’s sake.
He helps me gaze on my life’s journey,
and makes me aware of others on the journey too.

When I take wrong turns and moves because of life’s distractions
He re-calculates my step and sends me back on the road.
I will trust in his guidance and concern
My confidence is enhanced.

He reminds me of all the dangers of the road
He nudges me every time I doze off behind the wheel
And assures me of his presence
and calms me down always keeping me safe.

Surely his guidance and direction will comfort me
all the days of my life
I will trust and lean on his leading
for ever and ever.

I think when I hear my GPS saying “recalculating,” I’ll think of Mabel’s psalm!

And I also love Carole Crossley’s version, which speaks right to the heart with how she sees God’s love and protection:

The Lord is my strength, my power and might,
He gathers me under his wing and protects my spiralling thoughts,
He enriches my life in protection and friendship,
He soaks up my never-ending tears and lays a clean path before me,
I gaze at his tremendous provision and I am awestruck,
He covers my iniquities, encouraging a new balance in my struggles.

The Lord overcomes my fears with his tenderness,
When I am alone and cowering, he wraps me in his arms,
He Spurs me on to tackle each new problem, in his light,
The Lord focusses my vision, as I see his magnificent acts,
He teaches me thankfulness; he never leaves me,
In him, I am able, I can do it and I will!

How might you personalize Psalm 23 today?

September 19, 2017
The Lord is my… Teacher: Riffing on Psalm 23 (part 3)

The lovely Heythrop College, part of University of London until next year when it will close.

Some years ago a writing friend shared with me how he liked to personalize Psalm 23 according to the different roles the Lord could play in his life. Thus instead of a Shepherd, I wrote about the Lord being my Publisher. (And here are some examples of other people engaging with this psalm.) Recently after receiving a not-so-stellar book review, I wrote about the Lord being my Reviewer, and this morning, as I struggle to write my penultimate essay for my MA in Christian spirituality, I’ve written about the Lord being my teacher (or I suppose I should say “tutor”).

The Lord is my teacher, I lack nothing.
He makes me rest from my studies,
he leads me beside the bubbling brook,
he refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right ways of thinking
for his name’s sake.

Even though I trudge
through the valley of low marks
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
Your assignments and comments,
they comfort me.

You prepare a place for me
At the academic high table.
You anoint my hands to type;
my ideas overflow.

Surely your goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the College of the Lord
forever.

How could you make the beloved Psalm 23 applicable to you today?

May 18, 2017
A Friendship That Ended Too Quickly

I closed the door quietly, not wanting to wake my parents as I knew they’d be asleep. As I walked toward the basement door I thought it was odd that the light was on – my parents were so good at turning off lights when not needed. I headed down the stairs and looked up with a start at the tear-stained face of my mother. My stomach dropped.

“Is it Grandpa?”

She shook her head, unable to speak.

“What’s going on?” I said, fear pervading my insides.

“It’s Sue. She was killed in a car accident.”

“No! No! No!” I screamed as my mom tried to comfort and quiet me.

In that instant, my world changed forever.

♥♥♥

Sue and I before a double date. Here we were feasting on the leftover ice cream from the ice cream pie we made for the dessert. Of course, a lot of the fun was had in the preparation of the date. She was with Lonnie; my date was Tom Marzolf who went to St. Paul Academy – wowee, we thought.

Today is the thirty-year anniversary of the death of Susan Carol Weavers. That October I was in my sophomore year at Bethel College and living back at my parents’ house after living on campus my freshman year. I was taking a required class that explored the arts, if I remember right, and I had been to the Minnesota Orchestra that night as part of the class. I left for Orchestra Hall a carefree young person but upon my return felt the weight of the unexpected – and unwelcome – death of one of my best friends. Besides the sheer horribleness of grief, in the coming months I would undergo a crisis of faith about how a good God could allow someone so young, smart, caring, and wonderful to die.

♥♥♥

I met Sue Weavers when she returned from living in Japan with her family. We became fast friends, and soon I knew I could always depend on her as one who would listen when I was down and who was always up for a new adventure. Though she had traveled and lived abroad, she never lauded her cosmopolitan understanding over us who had never left the country – or even the Midwest. She accepted me for who I was and loved me all the same.

She had gone to the University of Minnesota at Duluth while I stayed in the Cities, and on that fateful night had been out driving with a guy, sitting next to him without wearing a car seat. On her desk back in her room was a letter I had sent her, which would remain forever unopened. I’ve kept her letters, and now when I see her handwriting I’m instantly transported back, hearing her voice and seeing her smile.

♥♥♥

I find it poignant that Sue never finished signing my yearbook…

This summer when I was back in Minnesota, some of my high-school friends and I went to visit her grave. But we went on a Saturday when the office was closed and none of us could remember exactly where she’s buried. We walked along the rows of gravestones, searching in vain for our friend. “How can I not remember?” I wondered, thinking of the many times I would visit her grave, bringing a sandwich from Arby’s during my lunchbreak from the law office where I worked the summer after she died. After an hour or so, we gave up, feeling the poignancy of what we’d lost by the fruitless search in the cemetery. She was there, but she wasn’t.

Those of us in our high-school group have remained lifelong friends, perhaps because the shock and horror of losing Sue bonded us together as nothing else would. Of course I would rather she lived, but I’m grateful that we have this gift of friendship over the years of people who know us, warts and all. With each other we can descend into shorthand (“I’m spent!”) or pose the normally unaskable questions of each other.

♥♥♥

Our life can change in a moment, as mine did thirty years ago. Sue, I miss you.

Some of the gang at Kara’s cabin. Kara (R) and Sue (middle) sitting on the dock and Jill (L) and me (R) standing.

Sue and Kara skiing. Remember those big mirrored sunglasses?

October 15, 2016
A letter to my goddaughter going to university

Photo: liz west, flickr

Dear lovely goddaughter

It’s the last week for you at home before you go off to university – and your life changes forever! I know that sounds daunting and exciting and nerve-wracking and scary but wonderful too.

We have loved watching you (admittedly from afar) develop into such a wonderful young woman – one who knows and loves God, who seeks to deepen in her faith. That in particular gladdens my heart as your godmother. To me, I seek to keep my faith the most important factor in my life. With the triune God as your friend, you’ll be able to face the challenges and to rejoice in the joys in the days and years to come. He’ll never leave you. He’s always there, gently sending his nudges of grace and whispers of love. I hope you continue to learn to sense the ways he communicates with you.

You going to university has made me think back to my leavings and beginnings, as I took the big step to leave high school and go to a Christian university, just a few miles from my parents’ home in Minnesota. I thought it was important to live on campus that first year, and so I did with two very close friends. Two blondes, in fact! We had hard times and good times, and it was important for me to live away from home to establish my identity apart from my parents. To start thinking through issues of faith and belief – especially as I attended a Baptist university and grew up in the Roman Catholic church. And to learn how to live with roommates!

My faith took an almighty hit my sophomore year, on October 15^th to be precise, when one of my closest friends from high school was killed in a car accident. It was a shattering time, and I wondered how a good God could have allowed such a horrible thing to happen. To be honest, all these years later I can’t totally answer that question. Who can? But as I probed and sobbed and searched, I found hints to answers to that question – the mystery of evil and a broken world and yet a loving God who works to redeem and shower grace.

My friend’s untimely death makes me think of one of the biggest pieces of advice that I can give you as you go off to university: Expect the unexpected. Now I pray so much that this will not mean not the death of a loved one – I definitely don’t wish that for you. But things probably won’t turn out the way you anticipate as you set off to your new home away from home, heart pounding, stomach a bit growly, your nerves a flutter.

Things may not turn out the way you hope they will, but they can turn out in a better way! I for one would have never believed that I’d be living in the UK these almost 19 years later, nor that I would have lived in the amazing city of Washington, DC, for ten years, which started with a semester my junior year. God has mysterious ways of working and moving, and helping us to learn and love and change. Sometimes we feel the changes are welcome; sometimes unwelcome. But he’s always with us, and life with him is an adventure.

So lovely goddaughter, know that we love you and will be praying for you. Your heart will be tugged in more directions now as you meet new friends and learn to love a new city. Come to visit us in London some weekend – you’re always welcome!

With love from us all, Amy

September 7, 2016
Returning home

I love this series, “There’s No Place Like Home,” because of the many rich contributions from thoughtful, deep writers. There’s more to come in the following weeks and months, but I wanted to break in today with a post inspired by the community here in Spain which feels like a home away from home.

The chapel at El Palmeral.

We gather for morning prayer in the outdoor chapel, letting the words of the Celtic prayers move us into communicating with God. We’re accompanied by the strains of Anna Raine singing through parts of the liturgy. It’s a favorite part of my week here at El Palmeral in Spain.

But the closing song of our time of prayer always provokes emotion in me, for the music and words make me long for home. Here’s the blessing of which I speak, as found on the Northumbria Community website:

Blessing
May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you,
wherever He may send you.
May He guide you through the wilderness,
protect you through the storm.
May He bring you home rejoicing
at the wonders He has shown you.
May He bring you home rejoicing
once again into our doors.

I get choked up at the going out and coming back, for it makes me remember that I’m sent. Not only am I sent from my parent’s home into the world, but I’m sent from the States to the UK. I’m sent this week from London to Elche to lead this retreat. I’ll be sent in May to Glasgow and Gloucestershire. We’re sent out, and then we return home.

Home rejoicing, as the words say. Home, thankful for the work the Lord has done in and through us when we’ve been away. Home to rest and relax and recuperate and renew. Home to work.

And I guess the song hooks into my emotions because I think of leaving the friends here – new friends and old – and yet I look forward to going back to see my family. (This is intensified because during the last singing of the verse on the last day, we grasp hands and look at each person, bestowing the blessing on them with eye contact and smiles.) And I think of all the friends and family I don’t get to see on a regular basis, because our homes are hundreds or thousands of miles apart. And the longing returns to be reunited.

And of course the largest longing of all is to be with God and loved ones in the kingdom of heaven. The kingdom that can be here and now; the kingdom to come.

May we love and bless and be at home this day.

Detail from the large mural depicting Jacob’s ladder on the back wall of the chapel.

April 29, 2016
The God of Creation – Looking to See in Spain

I’m here at El Palmeral near Elche in Spain leading a retreat called, “Adventures with God.” It’s all about life with God and how we can communicate with him – and he with us. I find prayer so exciting, for through it God breaks into our lives and showers us with his love and affirmation.

He also reveals himself in creation. I snapped these photos yesterday in the gardens here at El Palmeral, reveling that the Lord would make cacti so interesting and the new buds of dates so beautiful. Join me here in Spain, imagining you feel the hot Mediterranean sun warming you as you look at the photos.

The new date seeds on the palm tree – stunning beauty.

Julie Jowett tells me these are an ice plant. So beautiful.

The flowers of cacti

April 26, 2016
Prayer for April from Woman Alive

I love writing prayers, and contributed the one for April in Woman Alive:

You can find Woman Alive on the web here, with links of how to join our bookclub and subscribe.

April 4, 2016
Gnarled and Broken – Feeling loss after a major life change

Recently I came across a poem I wrote nearly 18 years ago to the day, just 10 days after I had moved to the UK. Part of me was sad I hadn’t found it when I was writing Finding Myself in Britain! But mostly I experienced a rush of poignancy, feeling for that person I was, so new to the UK and feeling stunned with the massive pruning I was undergoing. Everything seemed so strange and hard and different, and knowing that I was here to stay made me aware that I was going to have to send down roots and make this my home.

The poem is based on olive tree – mind you, I’d probably never yet even seen an olive tree – from Psalm 52:8–9: “But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; I trust in God’s unfailing love for ever and ever. I will praise you for ever for what you have done.”

February 3, 2016
My word for the year

This January, I’ve read many blogs on the #MyOneWord phenomenon, and I even wrote one about how to discern God’s voice in choosing a word. But I haven’t yet shared my word for the year, because at first it feels so fragile and tender. I’m still testing it out with God, waiting to hear any whiff of confirmation.

But as we’re now almost halfway through the month, I will share, especially as my word fits beautifully with the graphic above that my fabulous publisher put together for me (and another one I will share later in the year). That quotation comes from from the Parallel Lives chapter in Finding Myself in Britain, from an email I wrote to Jo Saxton, a Nigerian Brit who lives in Minnesota, when we were swapping homes and I was sitting on her comfy couch in the basement while the rest of the family slept (ah, jetlag).

Can you guess my word? It felt a bit of an odd one when it popped up into my mind, but as I’ve been sitting with it, I think it’s right.

No doubt meanings will emerge over the year, but the obvious one for me right now hints at being present, as I write above about the sacrament of the present moment. When I’m with my family and tempted to whip out my phone, for instance, I remind myself, “present,” that instead I should be living in the moment and relishing the gifts in front of me.

I have some idea of other shades of meaning, but they are whisps just now so I will leave them there.

How about you? Did you choose a word for the year? What spiritual practices do you employ to keep your attention present?

January 13, 2016
How Can I Hear God When Choosing a Word for the Year?

Have you chosen a word for 2016 yet? Or to be more precise, has a word chosen you? (See here for background on this movement; I also write about this practice and my New Year’s spiritual traditions in Finding Myself in Britain.)

When I’ve mentioned this practice of holding one word before ourselves for a year, the question often posed to me is, “How do you know what word to choose?” with the subtext of, “How can I hear from God?”

Eli and Samuel, from the well-known story in the Old Testament about Samuel hearing God while in the temple. The Lord was speaking, but Samuel didn’t know it was him. Painting by John Singleton Copley.

Huge topic, with many a book written on it – I like Dallas Willard’s Hearing God and Leanne Payne’s Listening Prayer in particular, but Bill Hybels’s The Power of a Whisper is good too, and Pete Greig’s God on Mute is the best book on unanswered prayer. Here’s a story I told about hearing God – a couple decades into my quest to communicate with our Creator, I’m still learning.

So in the case of hearing from God when choosing a word for the year, how can we know? What can we do? Here are some short pointers from my experience, but know that hearing God is an individual thing, and what works for one person may feel like a deadend for another.

Ask

It’s obvious, but sometimes we forget to do the first thing. Quiet yourself and specifically ask God to give you a word for the year. He loves to communicate with his children, so we shouldn’t therefore be surprised when we do hear from him. He also loves for us to voice our desires.

Wait

God is God and we are not – which means we can’t demand an answer right now like a petulant child and expect him to jump to it. (Sometimes he does respond to our demands, of course, just as sometimes parents out of love give an answer right away to children-with-attitudes.) Waiting teaches us humility and patience.

Expect

Trusting that God will speak to us helps as we wait, and keeping an expectant disposition also keeps us alert – watching, noticing, hoping. Having a posture of receiving opens us up to God’s word for us.

Receive

We might be reading Scripture when a word pops out to us that we can’t ignore, or perhaps we experience a few days of the same concept coming up again and again – ever had that? A lyric from a song might loop through our minds without stopping. We might sense a whisper from the Lord, that still, small voice that through time we recognize as God’s.

Test

A key part in the process is to hold your word once you think you have it, testing it out to see if the Lord confirms it. Often I have a sense that what I’ve chosen is right – I don’t have a clear, “Yes, Amy, this is your word for the year” kind of a revelation. Talking with trusted friends helps in the testing process as well.

How do you choose your word for the year?

January 7, 2016