The Shower and God's gifts

      There is just nothing like the body of Christ!  What a gift to have brothers and sisters--both familial and spiritual--to strengthen, convict, and encourage us along the way.  How much love and grace and joy and wisdom and wonder do our families (of both types) give each of us!  Thank You Lord for such treasures.  

     Several dear friends and I helped give a bridal shower today for another dear friend.  And honestly, I added not one iota of ability or giftedness to the endeavor!  Several of these friends are excellent cooks--I think they could make cardboard taste delectable.  Several possess remarkable organizational skills and somehow seem to remember even the tiniest details.  Several just seem to know how to set things up perfectly--from flowers to silverware--to make everything look beautiful and run smoothly.  One brave soul provided her truly lovely, warm, wonderful, clean and uncluttered (only in my wildest dreams) home that was just perfect for the party.  

     And then there was me.  Let's see, the gifts and skills I provided.... uh... well, I did buy the petit-fours from Harris Teeter.  Does that count?  I must say, they were the dinkiest little delicacies I've ever seen--and not a hint of chocolate anywhere on them.  Seriously, no chocolate and awfully small: what could possibly be the point of any dessert like that?  By the time you popped one in your mouth, you would have already swallowed the minuscule morsel without even tasting anything.  And did I mention, no chocolate?  Gee whiz, what a tragic waste.

     I digress.  Contemplating chocolate does that to me.  My point is that I have no gifts or talents in this area.  I'm a mediocre cook (though hope springs eternal).   I have the organizational skills of a sheep (which I understand is a mighty dumb creature and will simply follow the sheep right in front it right off a cliff).  I'm sadly inept at cleaning and decluttering--the bane of my existence. Details, well, not exactly my strong suit.  But I do love to talk and visit--does that count?  I helped talk while the other girls seemed to do all the work... but I sure did have a fine time!   

     My point: God made us different and unique each for His purposes.  How often have I thought, "O, why can't I be organized like so and so and plan all my meals out for the week and still have time to make homemade Christmas presents?"  or "Why can't I be a better mom like so and so and take my children to the museum every week and teach them to read when they are 2 and happily potty trained when they are 1?" or  "Why can't I have it more together like so and so who works full time, is President of the PTA, and has brilliant children with impeccable manners and bows in their hair?"  

     But with age comes wisdom... and gratitude for the boundless grace of God.  He didn't make me so and so.  He didn't make you so and so.  He made us each unique.  He gave us unique families, unique gifts, unique personalities, unique likes and dislikes.  And He can and will use each of those infinite variations when we entrust ourselves wholly to our Creator and Redeemer and surrender to Him to be used by Him and for Him all for His glory, all by His grace.  He didn't make impetuous, big hearted, enthusiastic Peter to be the quieter, more cerebral, beloved John.  He didn't create the ever generous and encouraging Barnabas to be the strong, brilliant, insightful Paul. Some of His chosen ones were poor, uneducated fishermen.  Some were the intellectual elite.  Some were "Sons of Thunder," some gentle and kind.  Some were hated tax collectors, some were respected Pharisees.  And some were desperate, lonely women whom the world of that day despised--from the possessed to the unfaithful adulterer. 

      And Jesus loved them all, changed them dramatically, and used them mightily.  Think of the impact across the centuries of all these utterly different men and women!  How I have been encouraged by Peter's failures and then his faithfulness to the death.  Or how about Mary: weeping at the tomb of her beloved Savior and then hearing His living lips whisper her name and everything changing forever.  Or the example of Andrew constantly bringing people to Jesus--never seeking the spotlight, but constantly, faithfully bringing others to His Lord.  Or don't forget good old Thomas and his doubts--and reminding us that Jesus can handle all our doubts and questions so take them to Him. Come and see and know the risen Savior.  

     So thank You Lord for making us all so unique--each of us pale reflections of You.  Might we be quick to extend Your love and grace to one another.  For we are all so much worse than we could ever imagine... but so much more loved than we could ever dream.  We are all lost, hopeless sinners... saved by a glorious, perfect Redeemer.  The ground truly is level at the foot of the cross. Might we seek to see You and Your glory and Your grace in all our brothers and sisters in Christ.  Might we be grateful for the ways You have gifted each of us and trust that Your plans and ways and purposes are right and good and glorious.  I may never be a gourmet cook or a organizational wizard... but I am Yours, Lord, and ready to use my meager words to encourage and strengthen and love all those You have so graciously placed in my life.  To God, the Giver of all good gifts, be all the glory.

     

Field Trips and Aging

     Yesterday I went on a field trip with my youngest child to Tryon Palace in New Bern, NC.  Wow, it was terrific on so many levels!  First, I was thankful just to be able to go on a field trip with Peter and his class.  He is growing up, and before you know it, there won't be any more field trips to attend... or my son may no longer think it's such a great idea to have his mama on the trip!  Secondly, what a magnificent place to visit!  I had never really been to New Bern, and it is beautiful and charming.  Lovely historic buildings, water all around--you can't beat it!  Thirdly, it is so much fun to learn something new.  I'm sure I humiliated my child since I asked so many questions, but, honestly, it was fascinating.  History provides such a vast wealth of lessons for us today.  Might we all be lifelong learners.  It is so true: the moment we stop growing and learning, we begin shriveling up and dying.  But if we keep learning, there's no telling all the ways God can grow us and change us and use us for His kingdom.  As Madeleine L'Engle once wrote, "The great thing about getting older is that you don't lose all the other ages you've been."  It might be hard won, but with age comes wisdom.   And speaking of age-gained wisdom, the fourth thing I loved about the field trip: experiencing history gives you such good perspective on the present.  We ponder how quickly our days are rushing by, recall what things really matter and will stand the test of time, and contemplate what might be our legacy to generations in the years to come. "Teach us to number our days aright that we might gain a heart of wisdom." (Ps. 90:12)  O Lord, teach us and help us to be faithful!
     I guess I am thinking about growing older right now--and I'm thankful to still be here, albeit aging rapidly, and praying that God uses all my years to grow in "wisdom and stature and favor with God and man." (Luke 2:52)  This all reminded me of something I read the other day by Howard Hendricks.  "Older people can be excellent learners, but frequently they are conditioned against learning.  Somewhere along the line they were infected with the idea that you can't teach an old dog new tricks--which is true, if you're teaching dogs, and if you're teaching tricks."
     Amen!  We are not dogs, and while we still have breath in us, we can still be learning and growing in Christ!  I'm confessing right here that I have the memory of a flea... on a really good day (that is on my good day, not the flea's).  But I so long to memorize God's Word and hide it deep within my heart and marrow so that when jostled by life's blows, it is His Word which spills out and not my own selfishness.   He's given us brains; He's given us His Holy Spirit; He's given us His resurrection power; He's given us His grace; He's given us His divine wisdom.  So with all that He's given us, I think it's about time we start putting what we've got to work!  Start living out what we believe.  Start memorizing His eternal Word.  Start learning and changing and growing in whatever ways we sense His leading.
     Howard Hendricks writes of a dear friend, an 86 year old woman who just went home to be with the Lord.  "The last time I saw her on planet earth was at one of those aseptic Christian parties.  We were sitting there on eggshells, looking pious, when she walked in and said, 'Well, Hendricks, I haven't seen you for a long time.  What are the five best books you've read in the past year?'... She was 83 on her last trip to the Holy Land.  She went there with a group of NFL football players.  One of my most vivid memories of her is seeing her out front yelling back to them, 'Come on men, get on with it!'"
     She died in her sleep at her daughter's home.  Her daughter told Hendricks that just before her mother died, she had written out her goals for the next 10 years!  You just gotta love that spunk and that attitude to keep pushing, keep growing!
     Moses began his true life's calling after the age of 80!  Abraham and Sarah were older than dirt when they had Isaac.  There are so many examples of men and women God has used mightily in their older, wiser years.  George Herbert wrote so many years ago, "And now in age, I bud again."  Might we bud again and again as we grow older and closer in Him.  And now, time to get some ice cream for my little guy... and in age bud in love and faith again.  To God be the glory.

   


 

Graves into Glory

     I feel as though I have just been walking on holy ground.  Mind you, it might not have appeared that way at a mere glance, for it was just at my dear friend's house for a small group Bible study I'm privileged to attend.  We're just a few middle-aged women dressed in warmups and jeans, rushing in, scurrying out, trying to silence ringing cell phones, searching for reading glasses in our over-stuffed purses (well, at least mine, anyway!).  But trust me, it was holy ground. Anytime you see the glory of God displayed in frail fellow dust people, well, it pretty well staggers and stuns you... and the only response is gratitude for the grace of God.
     You see, a number of these dear, godly women are traveling along hard, rocky paths right now.  Prodigal children or suffering loved ones.  I'm sure the sorrows differ from yours, but the pain does not--that pain that seems to reside deep down in the marrow of your life.  Don't we all struggle?  Don't we all face the reality that somehow this is not quite the way our lives--or the lives of those we love--should be going?   That this disappointment, or betrayal, or illness, or limitation, or  failure could not possibly be for the best... and for God's best.  Somehow, someway, we or our loved one has missed out on that best, that beautiful, perfect plan God should have had in store for His beloved children.
     But I saw the reality that nothing more powerfully and perfectly displays the glory of God than the beauty of belief in the face of bitter disappointment or bruising sorrow.   It reminds me of a phrase I heard long ago that described some heartbreak as a "bruising of a blessing."  The pain of sorrow that dogged belief transforms into standing strong and firm upon the promises and presence of Almighty God.  Standing firm based upon faith in His Word rather than faltering upon our feelings.  It's not fun, but, boy, there is just no stronger, deeper testimony to a watching world.
     The Bible is full of one such testimony after another--testimonies of man's pain and God's power, man's sorrow and God's sovereign faithfulness, man's disappointments and God's divine transformations.  Like a sparkling diamond set off against the backdrop of blackest cloth, it seems He uses our struggles to most clearly and compellingly reveal His glory and grace and greatness.  Remember the disciples passing the man born blind from birth and asking Jesus, "'Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?'"  Jesus answered, 'It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.'" (John 9:2-3)  And when Jesus healed the man, God was glorified, and the man believed in Christ, gave powerful testimony, and worshipped.
     Or how about the time the disciples were unable to heal the little boy who suffered from crippling seizures?  The desperate father brings his young son to Jesus with a plaintive cry: "But if you can do anything have compassion on us and help us." (Mark 9:22)  Jesus immediately responds, "If you can!  All things are possible for one who believes."  And in what is surely one of the most moving verses in the Bible, the distraught father cries out, "I believe; help my unbelief!" (Mk 9:24)  Can't you relate?  That is me!  I am that father--believing, trying, but so often failing and falling short.
     Yet how our Savior loves such words for it is when we are out of options, out of strength, out of self-devised schemes, out of all save our faith, faltering though it may be, that the Lord Jesus loves to move and heal and transform and enable and empower.  He makes all things--ALL things, even that ugly disappointment or sorrow--beautiful in His time.  And so the work of God is mightily displayed in this young boy when Jesus heals him and restores him to his family.
     Just one more example--and surely one of my favorites in all of scripture--when Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead.  Do you recall how Lazarus' desperate sisters send for Jesus, telling Him: "Lord, he whom You love is ill." (John 11:3)  Lord, we cry out, my child whom You love is sick and lost and alone.  Lord, he or she whom You love is....  you fill in the blank: unemployed, severely depressed, barren, bereft, confused, discouraged.  Surely, the sisters thought, Jesus would come quickly.
     But He did not.  He waits four long days before going to Bethany.  What on earth?  The one whom He loved was dying. He could have stopped his suffering and prevented his death, but He doesn't.   Instead, Jesus tells the disciples: "Lazarus has died, and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe." (John 11:14)  When Jesus arrives at the weeping, mourning gravesite, He tells the grieving sisters--and us--"I am the resurrection and the life.  Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die.  Do you believe this?"(John 11:25-26)
       Jesus tells them to remove the stone from the grave of a man dead and decaying for four days. Martha responds exactly as we would--No way, it will smell horrible.  In essence she's bitterly saying, "It's too late.  Jesus, You blew it.  You could have done something.  You could have prevented this tragedy, but You didn't and now all hope is gone. Forget it."   But, once again, we see those words that reveal how God always uses and transforms our pain and sorrow into something beautiful and powerful.  "Jesus said to her, 'Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?'" (John 11:40)   There it is again--belief that leads to glory, belief that results in seeing God work and move in impossible situations.
     The stone is rolled away, and the Word, who was with God in the beginning and through Whom all things are made, speaks a word to a dead and decaying body and commands him "Lazarus, come out."
     And a dead man walks out of a grave, alive by the power of God--the glorious, resurrection power of Almighty God.  The same power that is available to you and to me as we face whatever sorrows and strains and struggles God has allowed into our lives.  The same power that restores sight to the blind, heals the sick, and raises the dead--that is the power at work in our lives, transforming, redeeming, restoring, and ultimately glorifying the Savior who died and rose again for us.
     O Lord, we believe!  Help our unbelief!  And He will.  And He does.  Every.  Single.  Time--if we call out to Him by faith, He will always always always prove faithful and powerful and glorious beyond all we can imagine or even hope (Ephesians 3:20!)  He is the God of hope.  He is the God of healing.  He is the God of resurrection.  He is the God who transforms our graves into glory.   To our Healer, our Hope, our Heavenly Helper, our Resurrected Lord, be all the glory.

   



 

Charles Colson

     Charles Colson died two days ago, and like so many,  I have been thinking a lot about him.  What a truly remarkable man.  The newspaper's first words described the man he was: "the 'evil genius' of the Nixon administration" who spent nearly a year in prison for a Watergate related conviction.  In 1972 the Washington Post wrote that he was "one of the most powerful presidential aides, variously described as a troubleshooter and as a 'master of dirty tricks.'"  In other words, he was one mean, tough, hard-nosed, powerful, prideful dude--and I have no doubt had I ever met him, I would have disliked him immensely.
     But that is the man he once was.  That was the man he was before he met Christ.  Before he went to prison.  Before he was changed completely and eternally.  Before he began his life's work of ministering in prisons and to prisoners and their families.
     The man he became was a man of honor and conviction who loved  God and loved  the poorest and least of the least--the downtrodden and imprisoned and wretched.  Again, the newspaper put it succinctly: "But Charles "Chuck" Colson spent the next 35 years steadfast in his efforts to evangelize to a part of society scorned just as he was.  And he became known perhaps just as much for his efforts to minister to prison inmates as for his infamy with Watergate."
     How well I remember going to hear Charles Colson speak many years ago at First Presbyterian Church in Greensboro.  My parents took me--it was not terribly long after he had written his wonderful book, Born Again.  Many of us were still a bit skeptical (well, maybe a lot skeptical!)--was this Christianity stuff for real?  Could a leopard truly change his spots?  Could Christ truly change a man that profoundly?
     And the answer I learned that night was yes.  For in the Lord Jesus, Colson truly was a new man and his faith was for real.  You simply cannot argue with a changed life and with a testimony of what Christ can do with a broken, ugly life.  Isn't it always in the broken places in our own lives that He can most powerfully bring transformation and healing and ultimately hope?  Sure, it's painful.  But it's so beautiful to behold.  And there simply is nothing more powerful.
     Many years later, I heard Colson himself say that nothing he did in the first 41 years of his life, even with his office next to the president, could compare to what God did with his brokenness.  Look at the ministry of Prison Fellowship--who would have thought!  God takes the broken places in your life, like failure and prison, and uses them in ways you could never imagine.  "Laying on the rotten floor of a cell, you know it's not prosperity or pleasure that's important, but the maturing of the soul."
      "At your lowest depths," Colson declared,  "God may be preparing you for the greatest thing you'll ever do."  But it will invariably arise out of the broken, scarred, imperfect places in your life, for when we are weak, then in Christ we are strong.  It has been said that God cannot use a man greatly until He has hurt him deeply.  Pain and failure and sorrow deepen us, season us, grow us, ennoble us.  It's not fun.  It's not pretty.  But it's true and ultimately, He makes all things beautiful in His time... His time, not our time.
     Colson had his critics, his doubters, to be sure.  But look at his life since his conversion--a changed life speaks for itself.  I read that the Boston Globe wrote facetiously in 1973 "If Mr. Colson can repent of his sins, there just has to be hope for everyone."  When I saw those words, I whispered, "Yes!  But that's just it--you got it!  There is hope for ALL of us--from the liar to the murderer to the selfish to the greedy to the swindler to the worst of the worst.  From the likes of Charles Colson to the likes of me.  That is what Christ can do!"
     So thank You Lord for the life of this good man.  An imperfect man--just as we all are--but a truly great man used mightily by You.  A man who in giving his life away, truly found it again.  And now, he is truly Living--with a capital "L."  Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.  I once was lost, but now am found.  Was blind but now I see.  To the God of all grace who saves wretches like you and me, and who changes hearts and lives and destinies, be all the glory.

Time... and Mint

     This might qualify as the 8th wonder of the world--I was able to download my 2nd picture onto this blog! (Okay,  confession time--my oldest daughter is here and helped me.  I never would have figured it out or remembered it from the first time.  Of course, I still can't figure out how to properly indent for a new paragraph on this thing. Sigh)
     I read something yesterday that really resonated with me--or, I should say, convicted me.  Like so many of us, I am always in a hurry.  So much to do, never enough time.  I constantly feel under-the-gun and frustrated that at the end of each day, I have failed once again to get everything accomplished I really needed or wanted to do. Thus, once again today I mark through my lengthy to do list and move all the items to the next day.  For surely, I must subconsciously reason, tomorrow will be a far longer day comprised of more hours, less distractions, more efficiency, and nearly infinite achievements.  The clutter (in the entire house, mind you) will all be cleaned and removed, the laundry will all be folded and put away, the Bible study will be profoundly experienced and put into practice, the gourmet meals will be cooked (Ha!),  the books will be read, highlighted and remembered (double Ha!), the meaningful family activities will be enjoyed by everyone, the errands will all be run (with joy), the copious amounts of detritus will all be swept or vacuumed away, the phone calls and emails will all be returned (including all the ones I saved two weeks ago and then forgot about), the homework will all be finished and learned with excellence (might need a triple Ha here!), all the people in our family will feel loved and affirmed by their mama... and on and on and on.  Surely I could get all that done in 24 hours, right?
     If only I could be a little more efficient, I think.  If only I could eliminate all those copious time wasters in my life, I bet somehow, someway I could get it all done.  If only everyone would leave me alone for... um, about 2 years, I bet I could finish it all.  Isn't it funny how selfish we can become when we want to get things done?
     Why on earth does the Lord put up with me--all my rushing and drivenness and frenetic hurrying... and somehow missing His glory and grace and goodness in my relentless quest to get it all done?
     And so yesterday I read these words by Ann Voskamp:
          "A well known pastor, he was once asked what was his most profound regret in life?  'Being in a hurry.'  That is what he said.  'Getting to the next thing without fully entering the thing in front of me.  I cannot think of a single advantage I've ever gained from being in a hurry.  But a thousand broken and missed things, tens of thousands, lie in the wake of all the rushing... Through all that haste I thought I was making up time.  It turns out I was throwing it away.'"  Voskamp goes on to write "In our rushing, bulls in china shops, we break our own lives.  Haste makes waste.  The hurry makes us hurt.... I think often of another woman seeking: 'On every level of life, from housework to heights of prayer, in all judgment and efforts to get things done, hurry and impatience are sure marks of the amateur.'  [Ouch--I am an amateur, Lord] Is this the secret that all the life experts know?  That in Christ, urgent means slow.  That in Christ, the most urgent necessitates a slow and steady reverence.  That in Christ, time is not running out.  This day is not a sieve, losing time.  In Christ, we fill--gaining time.  We stand on the brink of eternity.  So there is enough time.  Time to breathe deep and time to see real.  Time to laugh long, time to give God glory and rest deep and sing joy.  And just enough time in a day not to feel hounded, pressed, driven, or wild to get it all done.  There is time to grab the jacket off the hook and time to go out to all air and sky and green.  And time to read and wonder and laugh with all them in this light.  All this time refracting in prism.  All this time that could refract in praise."
     After I read her words, I whispered: forgive me Father.  You are the Author of time.  You are the Sustainer of all our days and minutes and seconds, and You have given us enough time every single day to do all You have ordained, all that is needful and necessary and nourishing.  Forgive my haste.  Forgive my hurry.  Forgive my hustling that results in deeds done but souls suffering.  I want to love You and love people first and foremost.  That is why You placed me on this spinning planet.  And there is always enough time for those joyful priorities.   And all the other stuff?  Well, I'm trusting the Creator of time and space that You will accomplish Your purposes and enable me to do what You've called me to without grumpy frenzy and worried rushing.
     This picture I downloaded?   A little glimpse of the voluminous mint in our garden.  One tiny little mint plant from my wonderful Aunt Janie's garden transplanted over 12 years ago has yielded an abundant--even overflowing--harvest of mint every year.  We do nothing to encourage this hardy little herb.  And every winter the mint always looks like it's finished for good.  Yet, come spring, here it bursts forth again--verdant, lush, sweet smelling.  And every time, I remember sweet Janie and thank the Lord for the gift of her life and her love of God's garden.
     So yesterday, after reading Ann Voskamp's words, I slowed to truly see and appreciate and photograph our mint--the gift that keeps on giving and keeps reminding me of past blessings.  And then I put aside my to do list and went to walk along with my son and husband and watch them play golf on a beautiful spring day.  Because I will not always have an 11 year old.  And I may not always have the strength to walk or the eyes to see or the mind to remember and appreciate.  But I do today, and so I slow and savor.
     And that to do list?  Well, it still sits on kitchen counter, and I've noticed the world didn't stop spinning when I ceased rushing about to accomplish everything.  But my son smiled and chatted, and my husband and I enjoyed being together, walking and talking and seeing the beauty of God's stunning creation.
     Yes, I think there is "time to breathe deep and time to see real."  And there is time to love, and time to remember with gratitude, and time to praise.  To our great and good and generous and grace-overflowing God, be all the glory forever and ever and ever... and out into all of timeless infinity.

   



   
   
 

The Trapped Bird

This morning, as Moses and I meandered through the garage on the way outside for our short, slow walk, I was startled to see a little bird fluttering at one of the garage windows. Now let me explain--our garage is completely open. We almost never shut the door (since it really doesn't work anyway), so the poor little guy had a humungous opening through which he could have flown right out into freedom. But he couldn't seem to comprehend that. He just kept banging against the window and fruitlessly fluttering up and down, desperately trying to fly right through the glass into the open sky. I think he might be one of the little birds that hatched in our hanging fern outside the kitchen door. It broke my heart to see him trapped and doomed and surely weakening in his continually vain efforts to free himself. (Moses seemed concerned as well--he's just that kind of compassionate dog, of course!)

My first thought was, "Where is your sorry Mama, little fellow? Why isn't she here helping you? Why isn't she showing you the way out of this mess?" No mama or daddy bird, however, was anywhere in sight. I tried to direct the young bird out myself, but all to no avail. All my hand motions, all my words of encouragement, all my pointing fingers did absolutely nothing. Moses was apparently not helpful in the least either. The little bird simply could 't understand a word we said or interpret any of our arm or hand motions. In fact, our presence seemed to alarm him even more, and he redoubled his frantic but fruitless, efforts.

Now, I do want to tell you the good news that my husband was somehow able to gently slide the window open, and the little guy slipped through to freedom. But here's the thing: what if I had been able to become a bird for just a few moments? If I could have become a bird, I could have chirped some kind in some kind of birdspeak explaining to my young friend that all he had to do was to turn away from that hopeless window and fly straight out that huge open garage door. Or maybe I could have just flown up to him and said, "Hey, follow me! I'll get you out of here in a jiffy!" Then we could have easily flown right out that garage door opening and out into the glorious blue heavens.

I couldn't become a bird, however, not even for a nanosecond. But here's the thing: our Savior did. He knew we could never ever in a million years find our way to heaven. We could never be good enough, never do enough, never learn enough, never accomplish enough, to escape this mess we are in and find our way to the joys and freedom of eternal life. Never ever ever. We are hopelessly mired in our sins, our habits, our selfishness, our pride.

And so the Lord, who made those beautiful blue heavens and those soaring birds, became one of us. He left the throne of heaven and became a tiny baby. He grew up and learned how to speak our language, experience our limitations, endure our pains and sorrows, and withstand our temptations. He died the worst, most humiliating death imaginable and three days later rose from the dead, all so that He could free us from our doomed captivity to sin and death. All so that we could know and see and follow Him into abundant, eternal life. We couldn't follow a bird or a book or a flaming chariot or even a God we cannot see and comprehend... but we could follow a man--a God-man, a God who became man for us.

Thank You, Lord Jesus, for becoming one of us--one of Your finite and flawed creatures. Thank You for living a perfect, sinless life and dying a horrific death all so that we might know You and follow You and be freed from the entrapment of our sins.

And even now, when I start to bang against the windows of my pride and selfishness and self-will that say, "No, but I want it my way," thank You for never giving up on me. And for coming to me and showing me that glorious open door to true freedom and true joy and peace found only in You and Your will and Your way. Might we trust the One who came and became one of us so that we might find faith and freedom and fullness of joy.

To the Lord Jesus, who saw our plight, and in His love, became man and bestowed salvation on all who believe in His Great Name, be all the glory forever and ever.

Thank You for Dogs

Early this morning, my faithful companion, Moses, and I went for a slow and brief walk. Brief because he simply cannot go very far, and slow, well, you've probably got the idea. Moses is now over 11 years old, growing increasingly gray, and really slowing down dramatically. Right now, he is sprawled at my feet, resting, ever resting, and contented and peaceful. Life for Moses centers around his family and his favorite words--"breakfast," "pill" (which he loves--even the ones the vet claims he will hate--Ha, he devours them!), "snack," "treat" (come to think of it, some of these are among my favorite words as well), and "ride in the car?" Life's simple pleasures. Give Moses his family and his food and life is awfully good.

But this morning I really noticed how dramatically he is slowing down. And it just makes me so sad. We adopted Moses when he was 5 years old, and I've already written about that amazing Christmas day. What a joyous time and a glorious memory--thank You Lord! I don't know who was more excited--the children or us parents. Neither my husband nor I slept a wink Christmas Eve, for we knew we had the greatest Christmas gift and surprise the children had ever gotten. And we did, and he was. And Moses has continued to be one joyous gift to our family, day after day after day.

There is just nothing like a dog.

So while I felt mighty low this morning as I contemplated the terrible inevitability of one day losing sweet Moses, I also experienced profound gratitude at a God who would give His children even this--the unconditional love of a dog. His mercies are new every morning, and His goodness and grace comes in so many varied shapes and sizes--from the staggering beauty of this world to the sound of music to the laughter of loved ones to the loyal companionship of a dog. And then, of course, the greatest gift of all: salvation and eternal life given by an extravagant God who loves to shower His own with gifts upon gifts. Thank You Lord.

Right now, I thank You for Moses. For as long as we may have him, we thank You for the reminder of Your love and faithfulness evidenced even in the gentle brown eyes of our sweet old black lab. And when the time comes for us to say goodbye to this precious gift, we thank You, too, for the ever sweeter memories of love and loyalty from an ever faithful four legged friend. For every tear we will shed, and there will be many, there will be a blessing of memories of this joyous gift of Moses.

I close with the words of one of my favorite writers, G.K. Chesteron, on dogs:

But there is something deeper in the matter than all that, only the hour is late, and both the dog and I are too drowsy to interpret it. He lies in front of me curled up before the fire, as so many dogs must have lain before so many fires. I sit on one side of that hearth, as so many men must have sat by so many hearths. Somehow this creature has completed my manhood; somehow, I cannot explain why, a man ought to have a dog. A man ought to have six legs; those other four legs are part of him. Our alliance is older than any of the passing and priggish explanations that are offered of either of us; before evolution was, we were. You can find it written in a book that I am a mere survival of a squabble of anthropoid apes; and perhaps I am. I am sure I have no objection. But my dog knows I am a man, and you will not find the meaning of that word written in any book as clearly as it is written in his soul.

Thank You, Lord, for Moses, and for all the dogs that bring such sweet companionship and joy to so many. They are all just another pale reflection of Your glorious goodness and grace. To God, our Giver of all good gifts, be all the glory.

Thankful in the simple

Whew. Another "long" monday--only today, it really felt long and laborious! I really feel like complaining, and I'm quite sure I could come up with a decent list of petty gripes... especially in light of being a bit tired and overwhelmed with the unrelenting daily stuff that somehow needs to get done. Life is just plain busy, isn't it?

But the Lord keeps bringing me back to Philippians 2:14 "Do all things without grumbling or questioning," Phil. 4:4 "Rejoice in the Lord always; again, I will say, Rejoice," and Phil.4:6 "do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God."

So, I'm gonna forego the complaining words--and attitude and thoughts. We can't just refuse to speak those complaints; we've got to dismiss them from our thoughts as well, since whatever is in our thoughts will eventually work it's way out into our attitudes and actions. Instead, therefore, here are some causes for gratitude to the Lord:

(It is now a couple hours later, early evening, and the night is closing in. I'm sitting outside watching our youngest child shoot baskets... and life is good, awfully good! Isn't it always the simple gifts of life that bring us the most joy? How I love the early morning and the early evening--grateful!)

I'm thankful for the warm, sweetly scented spring air. What a day and a week of unrelenting beauty it has been--thank You Lord for the gift of spring again! I'm aghast at how quickly I take God's creative goodness and generosity for granted. We should be rejoicing--"Spring! Again! Can you believe it?!" we should be exclaiming! "He's given us the flowers and the warmth and the sweet smells and the singing birds and verdant foliage again, yet again!!"

Thankful for the banks of azaleas I pass several times a day--a wall of brilliant pink flowers!

Thankful to be sitting outside in the cool of the evening on an old wooden bench... the same bench that sat for years and years outside my dear Aunt Janie's backdoor and overlooking a battered basketball net. Such memories of love and fun and wisdom and family and blessing upon blessing. And here I sit on the same weathered, ancient bench watching my son shoot basket after basket. Thankful.

Thankful for Moses, sitting peacefully, faithfully at my feet. He's just happy to be here with us... wherever we are, whatever we're doing (as long as it doesn't involve much physical exertion!). Help me to sit at Your feet, Lord--peaceful and contented.

Thankful for the sounds of spring--symphonies of birds, barking dogs, crickets--what a glorious childhood-evoking sound!--a far off train whistle, far off murmurs of folks walking down on the greenway or sidewalk.

Thankful for all the candy apple-colored cardinals that have flitted across my path today. Each a whispered reminder from our Father of "I love you." I always whisper in return, "I love You, too, Lord!"

Thankful for wonderful books and for cherished moments of reading and connecting with a wider world and with great men and women of the past who inspire us, convict us, encourage us.

Thankful for family--for husband and children and siblings and in-laws and cousins and all those parents and grandparents and ancestors who have gone on before us. For the gift of being a small part of something far bigger and greater and more lasting than just little old selfish me.

For phones--sometimes the bane of our existence, but still... really a gift to be able to hear the voices of those we love even when they are far from home.

I'm just taking it on faith--thankful for computers! Somehow, someway, they must be worth celebrating, even if I can't do much of anything on them and my ignorance seems boundless according to my children. But... I am writing on one right now, so that is cause for gratitude.

Thankful for a body that can move and see and hear and taste and touch and smell.

And now, thankful to go and read with our youngest child. And to all, a good night! To the God of all graces, big and small, be all the glory.

Rebuilding the Wall

Anybody around here experienced discouragement lately? Perhaps felt overwhelmed by some task you have to do... and you know you are not up to the job? Maybe just frustrated that God doesn't seem to answering your prayers and life just isn't quite going the way you'd hoped or expected? Well, maybe you can't relate, but I sure can! And the other day as I was reading through the book of Nehemiah in the One Year Bible, I discovered that Nehemiah and the Israelites surely could as well. Let me tell share a little bit about it.

Jerusalem was largely in ruins after the Babylonians came in, ruthlessly conquered and razed the city, deported most of the few surviving citizens, and leveled the walls and temple. Now, many years later, Nehemiah has received permission from the Persian King Artaxerxes to return to Jerusalem and rebuild the destroyed city and it’s walls.

When Nehemiah arrives in Jerusalem, the beleaguered little group of returning exiles begins rebuilding the wall--surely a massive and overwhelming undertaking. Without walls, however, the city was vulnerable to every enemy, and so these weak and paltry exiles had to begin the daunting task. Thus when Nehemiah challenges them, “...they said, ‘Let us rise up and build.’ So they strengthened their hands for the good work.” (Neh. 2:18)

Everybody has a part to play, and they all start working! Chapter 3 is a litany of verses like “The sons of Hassenaah built the Fish Gate. They laid its beams and set its door, its bolts, and its bars. And next to them Meremoth the son of Uriah, son of Hakkoz repaired. And next to them Meshullam the son of Berechiah, son of Meshezabel repaired. And next to them Zadok the son of Baana repaired...” (Neh.3:3-4) Priests, district rulers, goldsmiths, perfumers all worked side by side and repaired portions of the wall or the gates. What a group effort--and it took everyone doing their part and pitching in!

But here’s the part I really loved. Opposition came. Doesn’t it always?! Isn’t it so true that just when we get a real head of steam going and things seem to be chugging along, opposition slams right into us? Our child gets sick. Our schedule gets out of control. Our energy flags. Our confidence and faith wanes. And discouragement and despair overwhelm us.

I don’t know about you, but discouragement always proves to be some of the enemy’s most fertile and successful hunting ground in my life. I grow discouraged with some setback or failure or criticism, and then the enemy whispers “You can’t do this. Your prayers are no good. Who do you think you are? This will never succeed. You are too weak or unfaithful or undisciplined or disorganized or... (you fill in the blank) to ever do this or finish this or obey God’s Word in this.”

I’m preaching to myself here: IT IS A LIE FROM THE PIT OF HELL!! We need to preach ourselves the Word of God! “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” (Phil. 4:13) or “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself up for me.” (Gal. 2:20) or “Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.” (Gal. 6:9) or “Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart, all you who hope in the Lord.” (Ps.31:24) There are so many! We must go to His wonderful, rejuvenating, supernatural Word in these moments of despair and defeat and call on His Name and His might and His strength!

And that’s exactly what Nehemiah did! For you see, chapters 4 and 5 of Nehemiah recount the inevitable opposition that came as the wall slowly started to rise. Sanballat the Hornonite and Tobiah the Ammonite and Geshem the Arab got all worked up and did everything they could think of to discourage the people, deter the workers, and defeat any rebuilding efforts. Seriously, you need to read about it--they used sarcastic comments like “what they are rebuilding--if a fox goes up on it he will break down their stone wall!” (4:3) This fearsome threesome issued threats, plotted evil, started ugly rumors, appealed to the Persian king to stop the rebuilding and on and on.

But the people kept working and the rebuilding continued. Do you know why? Listen to God’s Word: “And we prayed to our God and set a guard as a protection against them day and night.” (4:9)--Prayer and diligent, prayerful preparation. Nehemiah stationed people with swords and bows in various places--especially in vulnerable areas where there were open places still remaining in the walls.

And he exhorted them “Do not be afraid of them. Remember the Lord, who is great and awesome, and fight for your brothers, your sons, your daughters, your wives, and your homes.” (4:14) I love that! God is calling us to fight for our children, our parents, our spouses, our friends, our neighbors, our culture! I can be so fearful, so terribly inadequate and weak. But it’s not about me! It’s about “the Lord, who is great and awesome!” It’s time to stop worrying about what I can do and focus on what He can and will do! It’s time to, in Paul’s words, forget “what lies behind” and start “straining forward to what lies ahead.” (Phil.3:13)

'Cause I can tell you right now: I will fail and falter and faint. I will disappoint and grow distracted and discouraged. But my Almighty God will not! Not now, not ever! And this is His work, not yours or mine. So we need to remember our great and awesome God, call upon Him constantly in prayer and in His Word, and then get to work doing whatever He has called us to do!

Let’s emulate Nehemiah and the wall builders and workers: “Those who carried burdens were loaded in such a way that each labored on the work with one hand and held his weapon with the other. And each of the builders had his sword strapped at his side while he built.” (4:17-18) We need to strap on the weapons of prayer and faith and God’s Word and work! And trust, just as the people of Nehemiah’s day did that “ Our God will fight for us.” (4:20)

Strap on those weapons and get ready to build in whatever areas God is calling you. In your home. In your neighborhood. In your church. In your business. Fight for our families, for our friends, for our church families, for our city, for our culture! We will do it on our knees, in His Word and in the power of His Holy Spirit. All to His glory, all by His grace! And to God be the glory!

Learning to Rejoice...again

For the record, I am a SLOW learner. Let's just get that right out in the open. So forgive me if this is the same, dumb lesson you've read over and over, but maybe that's just the tiniest glimpse into the infinite patience and grace of our Lord. For you see, no matter how thick, how slow, how recalcitrant we, as His children, are (or, at least I am, anyway), He never quits on us, never gives up on us, never stops teaching and molding and shaping us into His perfect, holy image. But seriously, how many times do you think I need to learn the same thing over and over again before I get it? Heaven, I guess. Sigh.

This has just been one of those days. Nothing earth shattering: just one interruption after another. Rush to a function at school, take the dog in for arthritis shots (maybe they could give me one too), return a billion phone calls while catching up on a million emails while trying to clean up the house and do laundry, race around for carpools and forgotten golf clubs and missing clothes, dealing with an out of town daughter at a mountain house with absolutely no water--calling, emailing, fretting to try to help her--and on and on. Frustration, helplessness, frenzy. It is now 9:15 p.m., and I feel like it's been one of those frantic days filled with minutia and absolutely nothing accomplished. Double sigh.

So I sit down for a few moments with my Bible study and read today's lesson. Such familiar beautiful words: "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God ,which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (Phil. 4:4-7) His eternal words are a healing balm to a frazzled heart.

Rejoice in interruptions. Rejoice in minutiae. Rejoice in busyness. I just don't see an escape clause in there anywhere. "Always." In palaces. In prisons. In peaceful times. In frenzied times. In sorrowful moments. In soaring moments. In life--regular, humdrum, busy, calm, interruption-strewn life. REJOICE... always.

So I rejoice that we have clothes and golf clubs and schools and cars and food--all the routine possessions of life that many in this world lack. I rejoice that I have a daughter and that she can call me. That I have a phone and a computer--that I can sometimes operate. I rejoice that I have water (since my poor daughter apparently does not). I rejoice that there are people I love behind all the minutiae and busyness. I rejoice that the Lord has given me strength to do all He has called me to do. I rejoice that I live by faith and not by feelings. And I rejoice in Him who is holy and worthy and good and glorious and gracious beyond all hope and reason.

And I choose to forsake fretting and worrying for praying and thanksgiving. We can choose, you know. We aren't helpless beasts incapable of choosing that which brings hope and healing and blessing. Paul's words, after all, are a command not a suggestion... and if God commands, then He enables and equips us to do His perfect will. He is the King, after all, and we are His loyal subjects. Sometimes I forget that. I start to slip into thinking that this is all about me and mine rather than Him and His. But it's all about Him and about the privilege we have of knowing and praying and praising and enjoying the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

So thank You thank You thank You Lord! You are my strength and my song... even when life seems a bit off key. Thank You for interruptions and challenges and blessings and busyness. Thank You for the incalculable gift of prayer and knowing that Your supernatural power and provision are only a word, a breath, away. Thank You for thanksgiving and the way praise always changes us and takes us from fretting to peace and from discouragement to joy. Help us to obey, Lord. Help us to live by faith in You and Your Word rather than by our fragile and fleeting feelings.

And help my daughter to get water tonight... or at least to rejoice and be thankful even without showers or toilets or clean clothes! As for me, I think I'll go take a hot bath with unusually great thanksgiving! To God be the glory.

Friend of Lepers...like me

My daughter recently returned from a wonderful mission trip to the Dominican Republic. She came home moved and motivated by the incredible people she met and ministered to there--remarkable folks who have nothing the world deems important and yet possess all that the world desperately longs for--joy, contentment, peace, purpose. How true it is that we can never out give God, for, as is almost always the case, though she went to serve and bless, she was the one who was ministered to and blessed and encouraged. I love looking at her pictures and glimpsing faces so full of unmitigated joy and wonder even while surrounded by so few material possessions. Such smiles! As my daughter commented, "You've never seen such joy, such gratitude. They hugged us and celebrated and rejoiced over this crummy little playground we built. They have so little and yet they are so happy. I've never had so much fun. I want to go back right now!"

But my daughter shared about one experience that has haunted me--in a good way, I suppose. The last day they were in the Dominican Republic, they went to a leprosy colony. Apparently because of modern drugs used to treat this dread disease, their leprosy is no longer contagious. Nonetheless, these dear men and women have been shunned, isolated, and abandoned by their family and friends. Their families never come to visit and, in fact, do all they can to ensure no further contact of any kind with these poor victims of leprosy.

I simply cannot imagine what it would be feel like to be so rejected and despised--not permitted any kind of normal, everyday activities that we take completely for granted. No grocery stores or movies or concerts or church services or family celebrations, or hospitals or travel of any kind. And surely the most terrible of all, the lack of human touch. Denied for a lifetime the joyful hug of a child, the kiss of a sibling, the hand clasp of a friend, the high five of a teammate, the sympathetic embrace in the midst of sorrow.

My daughter's mission group had been told that this disease was not contagious, so they freely hugged and touched and held these ones dear to the heart of the Savior. And she said these leprosy patients were so grateful, so joyful at their touch. O Lord Jesus, even pondering this, I feel such shame at all the good, all the love, all the grace I might show to the neediest and least of Your children and yet fail to do so out of busyness or preoccupation or sheer selfishness. Forgive me Lord.

As my daughter spoke, I couldn't help but think of the Creator and Sustainer of the Universe who took the time to touch such a lowly leper. The lepers of Jesus' time were forced to live in isolated communities and if they came anywhere near "healthy normal" humans, had to constantly shout out "Unclean! Unclean! Unclean!" I wonder, had this leper been shouting "Unclean!" when he heard of One who healed and loved even the least of these? In spite of all he'd suffered, did some faint hope start to arise in the recesses of his heart? Surely not, he thought, but then, could it be, maybe, just maybe, perhaps?...

And so, trembling, afraid, unworthy, he crept to the edges of the crowd and dared, finally, to fall to his knees before Jesus, and begging, pleading in a soft, uncertain voice, "If you will, you can make me clean." (Mark 1:40) He knows Jesus can; but the question is, will He? Surely this is simply too much to demand of the Savior--too much uncleanness, too much disfigurement, too much ugliness, too much risk.

Is there a limit to Jesus' love? A boundary to His grace? Let the earth resound with His answer:

"Moved with pity, He stretched out His hand and touched him and said to him, 'I will; be clean.' And immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean." (Mk 1:41-42)

"I will; be clean" He says to the vilest murderer, the malicious gossiper, the prideful hypocrite, the hopeless alcoholic, the compulsive liar, the shallow materialist... and to selfish, unkind, unloving, undeserving you and me.

And He didn't just heal, He touched. He could have just healed the leper with a word, you know, but He didn't. Because He knows all things, all hearts, even the deepest and most desperate needs and longings. Holiness touches the untouchable. Pristine perfection embraces the vile and disgusting and hideous. And He makes all things new and clean and whole.

For you see, I am that leper. I am the one who should be walking down the street, shouting "Unclean! Unclean!" Unclean in my disobedience, my impatience, my self-absorption, my worrying and criticizing, my ingratitude, my callousness towards the needy. But incredibly, when we run to the Savior in our leprous rags of sin and ask for His healing, He embraces us with arms stretched taunt on the cross and says "I will; be clean." And He touches us with His grace and washes us in His blood and loves us in His Word and then bids us to go forth and love as He has loved, forgive as He has forgiven, and touch as He has touched. To the least. To the lowly. To the leper.

I just have to quote a few of the words to a song I have just heard that is as powerful as any to which I've ever listened: "Jesus, Friend of Sinners."

Jesus, friend of sinners, we have strayed so far away

We cut down people in Your name, but the sword was never ours to swing

Jesus, friend of sinners, the truth's become so hard to see

The world is on their way to You but they're tripping over me

Always looking around but never looking up I'm so double minded

A plank eyed saint with dirty hands and a heart divided

Oh, Jesus, friend of sinners

Open our eyes to the world at the end of our pointing fingers

Let our hearts be led by mercy

Help us reach with open hearts and open doors

Oh Jesus, friend of sinners, break our hearts for what break Yours

You love every lost cause; You reach for the outcast

For the leper and the lame; they're the reason that You came

Lord I was that lost cause and I was the outcast

But You died for sinners just like me, a grateful leper at Your feet

Oh Jesus, friend of sinners

Open our eyes to the world at the end of our pointing fingers

Let our hearts be led by mercy

Help us to reach with open hearts and open doors

Oh Jesus, friend of sinners, break our hearts for what breaks Yours

And I was the lost cause and I was the outcast

You died for sinners just like me, a grateful leper at Your feet.

So I kneel in gratitude at the foot of the cross. A leper, a sinner, an outcast... but a friend of Jesus, redeemed by the blood of the Lamb, restored by the Merciful, Gracious Savior. How can I not be filled with joy and overflowing with thanksgiving? How can I not be merciful and compassionate and loving and forgiving to others when I have been forgiven of so infinitely much more? Help me Jesus, Friend of Sinners, Healer and Toucher of lepers and losers--such as me--to obey and serve and love and forgive with joyful abandon... all for Your glory, all by Your grace. Thank You for loving lost causes, like the leper and like me, and for leading us to abundant, eternal Life. To Jesus, forever faithful Friend of sinners--and our Friend, our Redeemer, our Savior--be all the glory.

A Long Monday

Well, it's Monday morning. Sigh. Easter was just so glorious--soaring music, inspiring church, delightful fellowship, delicious Easter lunch shared with dear family and a few friends, a perfect day of blue-beyond-belief sky and sun and blooming trees and flowers everywhere. And, of course, just the joy of the culmination of Holy Week and contemplating all that Christ has done for us in dying for our sins and rising to new life and our new eternal life. I just want to shout "He is risen, He is risen, indeed" all over again!

But now it's monday morning, and the house needs a LOT of cleaning up after the Easter lunch celebration. I'm bemoaning my clutter challenges again. School resumed for my older two children at home--always a tough transition after spring break. My oldest daughter, who was here for the weekend, returned to her job out of town (so I miss her and my son who's in college. It makes me sad that my children are growing up. Sigh again) The laundry has once again piled up. The to-do list looms large and intimidating. My husband is out of town so it's single-parenting time. Blah Blah Blah. Truly, I look at that list and realize this is absolutely nothing to deal with, but I guess it's just easy to have a let down after the celebration of yesterday... especially on a monday.

Well, I should say that would have been my reaction this morning, save a prayer from my sweet 4th grade son last night before bed. He attends a different school from my older children, so he still has a holiday today. While I was thinking, "O boy, now I can't get a whole lot done tomorrow" (shame shame shame on me for my sinful attitude), here is what he was thinking: "Mom, I can't wait for tomorrow. We are going to have such a great day!" He had a long list of things he wanted to do--chick-fil-a for breakfast (because, well, that's how every perfect day starts out in his book), buy tomato plants and flowers of some unspecified kind, plant said tomato plants (which, of course, we will kill slowly over the next couple of months--just as we always do. But hope springs eternal), plants said flowers as well, maybe, hopefully, meet his aunt for lunch somewhere, go to Rita's and use his groupon for ice cream and on and on. I didn't notice a lot of "finish homework, read my book, clean up my room" on his list. hmm. We would clearly be busy beavers.

Then, last night, right before bed and anticipating the apparently spectacular day ahead, he added at the end of his prayer, "Lord, thank You for tomorrow. Please make tomorrow very very long."

I came downstairs and whispered a prayer of repentance and thanksgiving. Forgive my selfish, preoccupied mindset, Lord, and for failing to remember that every day is a gift, and every moment You give us to spend with those we love is a glorious gift-wrapped present never to repeated. And thank You for the treasure of those precious people in our lives who give our days busyness and work... but also meaning and purpose and joy. Thank You for the opportunity to love and to serve.

And thanksgiving for Easter, and the reminder once again that You make all things new. New life, new forgiveness, new power, new joy, new days. How can we struggle with a monday when You, our Redeemer, our Savior, our King of Kings, are in this monday with us? A risen Lord with us, in us, empowering us, enabling us, directing us. We have the gift of a new day and the gift of a gracious Savior. So with Paul, we "press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind, and straining towards what is ahead . I press on toward the goal of the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." (Phil. 3:13-14) Sure we may have messed up yesterday or last week or last year, but that is done and gone. The past is over, the present is a gift, and it's time to live it, totally live it, by His grace, to His glory, and in His joy.

So this Monday, might we preach ourselves a little sermon that "This is the day that the Lord has made; we will REJOICE and be GLAD in it." (Ps. 118:24) Lord, help this to be a long, long Monday--every never-to-be-enjoyed-again second of it--as we live fully and freely and faithfully, loving You and others. To the Risen One who makes all things, and all days, new, be all the glory.

He is Risen!

"But the angel said to the women, 'Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. HE IS NOT HERE, FOR HE HAS RISEN, AS HE SAID. COME, SEE the place where He lay." (Mt. 28:5-6)

"Do not be afraid"--His resurrection removes all fear of sin and death. "He has risen"--our Savior is alive and active and always always always with us. "As He said"--every word God speaks is true, and if He says it, it will always always always come to pass. "Come, see"--He invites us daily to come and see and know His greatness and His glory and His provision for us, His daily manna for us to meet our most mundane weaknesses and most desperate needs.

He is risen! O might we never ever get over the wonder of those three most powerful words in this universe! He is risen--there is hope. He is risen--there is eternal, abundant life. He is risen--death is not the end but the beginning. He is risen--you are never alone. He is risen--He is trustworthy and true. He is risen--He is changeless and eternal and omnipotent and omniscient. He is risen--He can do all things... and through Him who strengthens us we can do all things. He is risen--He understands our sorrow and He is here with us right now in the midst of it. He is risen--He conquered our sin and shame, so hand it to Him. He is risen--victory forever: His song and our song. He is risen--He is Redeemer and Savior. Our Savior. Your Savior.

And He makes all things NEW.

"Our old history ends with the cross; our new history begins with the Resurrection." (Watchman Nee)

Hand Him your old history and rejoice in your new history that begins at the empty tomb. The stone is rolled away. And He is not there--HE IS RISEN! HE IS RISEN INDEED!!

To God, our Savior, our Redeemer, be all the glory forever and ever and ever! Amen.

A Stone for Sorrowful Saturday

Saturday of Holy Week. Silent, sorrowful saturday. The horrific events of the cross behind us, but now all is darkness and despair and doubt and fear.

What must the disciples and tiny band of believers have been thinking and feeling? The chief priests and Pharisees remembered Jesus' words that He would rise in three days, and so they go to Pilate, demanding: "Therefore order the tomb to be made secure until the third day, lest His disciples go and steal Him away and tell the people, 'He has risen from the dead,' and the last fraud will be worse than the first.'" Pilate agrees and tells them "'Go make it as secure as you can.' So they went and made the tomb secure by sealing the stone and setting a guard." (Mt.27:62-66)

The enemies of Christ remembered, but His own did not. While those hostile to Jesus did all humanly possible to keep Him in that tomb, His disciples had fled, huddling and hiding, fearful and forgetful of all Jesus had taught and shown them. In the moment of crisis, all was forgotten. Isn't that so like me? I read it, speak it, teach it, but sometimes, in the heat of trials or temptations, I can so quickly forget the Truth that saves and sustains me. Forgive me Lord.

The disciples forgot and thus their faith faltered. All seemed lost--all hope, all dreams, all future, all joy--as lost and gone forever as their dead Messiah. This was the end of the road.

Or was it? As we sit today on this silent, sorrowful saturday, might we remember that those places where our road seems to be ending, may only just be the cusp of a glorious beginning. We wait in the dark, outside the tomb of our hopes and dreams, but trust that God may just be doing something we cannot begin to imagine. That He is working in the darkness, in the tombs of disappointed expectations or crushed dreams, and preparing for new resurrected life.

Ann Voskamp writes: "Today, wait. Sit at the tomb and wait on the Lord. Trust when all is dark. Believe when the stone is rolled in and sealed. Carry a stone in your pocket and remember: there is hope. Wait and have faith in the coming Resurrection, glorious light erupting on black horizon."

And so we wait, stones in pockets and purses, and trust in Him even when we cannot see Him or feel Him. In all the tombs of our lives--tombs of disease or death or despair or disruption--we grip our stones, and we wait and trust. We trust even when our Savior lies cold and buried in a borrowed tomb. We trust His Word even when we cannot glimpse His person or sense His presence. But we know: while it's a silent, sorrowful saturday... Sunday is coming.

To the Savior who will be resurrected, be all the glory forever and ever.

Broken

Good Friday. Terrible... wretched... awful... glorious... gracious... Good Friday.

How can we bear to contemplate what the Savior endured on this day? This horrific, wonderful day.

Broken. For you. For me. Broken Savior. Broken body. Broken fellowship with His Heavenly Father. Broken righteousness and perfection and purity, as He bore the filth and sin and despair and darkness of a fallen world, a depraved humanity. Broken relationships with those He loved. Broken disciples devoid of futures, devoid of all dreams. Broken world as the darkness descended and the hope vanished. Broken temple curtain--torn in two from top to bottom by a relentless Redeemer. Broken rocks as the earthquake split the graves of the dead, preparing for resurrection.

And on that last night with His disciples, that last supper before this griveous Good Friday, "the Lord Jesus on the same night He was betrayed, took bread; and after He had given thanks, He broke it and said, 'Take eat; this is My body which is broken for you; do this in remembrance of Me.'" (I Cor.11:23-24)

We remember Lord. We remember the broken body, the broken heart, the broken side, the broken forehead, the broken fellowship, the broken dignity. We remember, and we grieve over our sin that required Your brokenness. But we also rejoice at Your brokenness that made us whole.

Just this morning, I saw this little broken egg in our driveway. The broken bright blue egg of a Robin. The egg the color of God's spacious, beautiful sky and His life-sustaining, powerful water and seas. A tiny, fragile broken egg... broken that new life might emerge.

We always love the colorful, perfect, decorated Easter eggs... and speak of how they are a symbol of spring and new life. How I love dying those eggs with my children, filling those rainbow-colored eggs for Easter egg hunts, decorating the house with those cheerful eggs.

But really, the whole, intact egg merely possesses the potential for life. It isn't until the egg is broken, shattered, that new life can truly be formed and realized and enjoyed. There is no new chirping baby robin until it's perfect blue egg is broken. Broken and marred and destroyed.

And so this Good Friday, we thank the One who was broken for us, and Whose brokenness brings us abundant, eternal LIFE. With every pound of the nails into His flesh, it was my selfishness, my pride, my lust, my greediness, my impatience, my worry, my gossip, my impatience, my faithlessness that was driven into His perfect, whole body.

And with every hammer blow, His body was broken... and mine--my undeserving, unworthy, unrighteous, unloving one--was made whole. And given new hope, new righteousness, new glory, new peace, new joy, new future, new love... NEW LIFE. Forever and ever and ever. No one and nothing can ever ever ever snatch me, as His graciously redeemed and restored child, from His nail-pierced, broken, beautiful hands.

Thank You Lord Jesus for Your brokenness that made us whole. Might we never tire of remembering and rejoicing at Your grace and Your gift of new life through brokenness. Help the world to see You--bleeding, battered, bruised, bearing all sin--and understand that Your brokenness was so that every man, woman, and child might enjoy new life, salvation's wholeness, for eternity. So many do not know or do not accept this gift, Lord and so go through life and into eternity, broken and lost and hopeless. Might this be the day they truly see and make You their Savior, their Broken-for-the-world Redeemer. And for all who know You as Savior, help us to reflect and remember and rejoice in Your brokenness on this glorious Good Friday. Might we "ponder anew what the Almighty can do" and go out and live our new life in You with joy and obedience and freedom and faith.

To our Broken, Beautiful, Blessed Savior, be all the glory forever and ever.

The Serving, Saving Sovereign

Thursday of Holy Week. A day full of lasts: A last day with His beloved disciples. A last breakfast, lunch, and supper. A last morning to wake up, free and surrounded by those He loved most dearly. A last time to teach and pray and encourage His own. A last day of freedom to walk where He desired, to talk with whomever He chose, to use His hands and feet in whatever way He determined. A last day to watch the sun rise, to see the stars dancing in the night sky, to hear the symphony of night sounds--all while still free from the weight of the world's accumulated sin and darkness and despair. A last day to hug a child or laugh with a friend or take a deep, full breath of God's good clean air.

How many of these have we enjoyed the unutterable privilege of experiencing today? As I ate my lunch, hugged my sons, told my husband I loved him, laughed with a dear friend, watched the sun rise and the stars fade from sight, listened to the song of the mockingbird, drove wherever I needed to go, emailed my sweet sisters, listened to music, did I thank Him who gave up all for me so that I might have all in Him?

There were no nails in my day. No spikes of pain and humiliation. Just freedom to live and to love and to worship and to thank. As George Herbert wrote in the 1600's, "O Thou who has given us so much, mercifully grant us one thing more: a grateful heart."

Even as Jesus prepared to bear unimaginable, nearly infinite sin and sorrow, His was a grateful heart. After the last supper with His disciples, after Judas leaves the table to betray His Lord, after washing the feet of His clueless, prideful disciples, Jesus and the eleven prepare to leave the warmth and light of the upper room and go out into the dark night to the Mount of Olives to pray. The disciples had no idea what lay ahead, but Jesus knew. He knew the hours ahead contained wrestling in prayer, betrayal, soldiers, arrest and beating and a crown of thorns and mocking and humiliation and pain. He knew it all. And yet, before they leave the room, Jesus leads them in singing a hymn. (Mk 14:26) A song in the midst of such sorrow. A song in the darkest of nights. Such is faith. Such is gratitude. Help us to be grateful Lord.

And we thank the Lord who not only would save but who served. On this thursday of the Last Supper, we contemplate the Sovereign Creator of the Universe washing the disciples' filthy feet. The humblest of tasks normally reserved for the lowliest of servants.

"Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into His hands, and that He had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper. He laid aside His outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around His waist. Then He poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around Him... When He had washed their feet and put on His outer garments and resumed His place, He said to them, 'Do you understand what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you." (John 13:3-5, 12-15)

The Savior serves. The Sovereign sacrifices.

Yet we chafe at our small humiliations or menial tasks or daily calls to put others first and deny ourselves? How easily I fall into pride and the selfish desire to be served or to get my way or to accomplish my agenda and to check off my to do list. And all the while, the sovereign hands that prepared to receive the nails that should have been mine, took up a towel and served.

I'm reminded of a story from the American Revolution. A man in civilian clothes rode past a group of soldiers who were out repairing a defensive barrier. The leader of this group of men roughly shouted instructions but made no effort to help his soldiers as they struggled in the mud. When the man on the horse asked the leader why he wasn't helping his men, he responded with great dignity, "Sir, I am a corporal!"

The stranger quickly apologized for his mistake, got off his horse and proceeded to help the exhausted soldiers. Then when the dirty job was finally finished, he turned to the corporal and said, "Corporal, next time you have a job like this and not enough men to do it, go to your commander-in-chief, and I will come and help you again."

And with that, George Washington got back on his horse and rode away.

While we were busy busy busy with our agendas, barking orders, feeling affronted by the smallest of inconveniences and difficulties, our Commander-in-Chief arrived in civilian clothes. We didn't recognize Him at first. But He left His position at the right hand of God, became one of us, rolled up His sleeves, got down in the muck and mire of life with us, and served. He got down on His knees, washing dirty feet with water and filthy sins with His blood. He is the Savior who serves and the Sovereign who saves. And He calls us to follow Him--to love as He loved and to serve as He served.

On this thursday of Holy Week, might we have grateful hearts that faithfully follow and sacrificially serve our Risen Lord. To our Sovereign and our Savior, who took up a towel--and a cross--for us, be all the glory.

Walking Worthy on Wednesday

Wednesday of Holy Week. How often have I heard it referred to as "Hump Day"--as in, over the hump and more than half way to the weekend. Boy, Lord, please help me never to live my life this way--just waiting for the weekend. Biding my time. Forfeiting the gift of fully living in the present irreplaceable moment, missing the challenges and joys of the journey in my relentless quest to move on to the next bigger or better or easier thing. Yet how often is this our attitude? If I can just get through school, then.... or if I can just get married, then... or if we can just have children, then... or if we can just get these children in school and out of the house for a few minutes peace, then... or if we can just get our children in a good college and successfully on their own, then... or if we can just save up enough for a prosperous, secure retirement, then... And suddenly life is over, and we've completely missed all the wonder, all the gifts, as we kept biding our time till we got "over the hump." Forgive us, Lord. Help us, Lord. Show us, Lord.

What must that wednesday have been like for the Savior? That last wednesday of His earthly life. In less than 48 hours, He would be facing horror and humiliation and pain and betrayal such as none of us could ever imagine. What must He have been thinking and feeling?

I'm just betting He thought of you. And me. And our children and grandchildren. And our forefathers and friends. Surely the thought of your salvation ran through His mind, and He smiled. Smiled at the joy of this priceless gift He was about to give to you, the apple of His eye. And perhaps He was praying for us, knowing our weakness and frailties, and loving us anyway. Praying we would look to His cross and believe. And follow. And be filled with His Spirit and with the joy and peace and power He longs for each of us to possess.

I don't know what our Sovereign Savior thought or felt that bittersweet wednesday, but I know His heart and mind were set and steadfast upon the cross and the joy of salvation His cross would bring to us, His children.

Surely He was praying for us, even as "the chief priests and the scribes were seeking how to arrest Him by stealth and kill Him" on that very wednesday. (Mk.14:1-2) Even as His own beloved and chosen disciple, Judas, who had lived and eaten and walked and shared with Jesus, prepared to betray His Lord on that very wednesday. Judas "went to the chief priests in order to betray Him to them. And when they heard it, they were glad and promised to give him money. And he sought an opportunity to betray Him." (Mk.14:10-11) Did you notice that word, "glad?" That almost makes me sick--they were "glad" of the betrayal and the imminent murder of the Creator and Sustainer and Redeemer of the Universe. Their Creator. Their Redeemer. The One who would die for them, those who plotted and rejoiced in His death. Grace.

Even on that last wednesday, Jesus continued to walk resolutely and joyfully to the cross, for you, for me, for all those who hated and betrayed and rejected Him. Might we walk faithfully as well. Might we, in Paul's words, "walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called." (Eph. 4:1) Help us to walk worthy, Lord. Help us to walk fully in the present moment You have given us. Help us to walk with our eyes fixed on the cross and our hearts focused on loving You and those You've given to us this day, this very day, to love. Help us to walk as grateful recipients of Your grace, sharing that grace and forgiveness and love with all those along our paths. To our Lord Jesus, our Savior, be all the glory.

The Tuesday Tree

Tuesday of Holy Week.

Jesus and His disciples are walking into Jerusalem on tuesday morning and pass a fig tree that Jesus cursed the day before (since it had leaves but no fruit). The tree was now completely withered and dead. (Mk11:20-22; Mt.21:20-22) When the disciples marvel at this sight, Jesus answers them, "Truly, I say to you, if you have faith and do not doubt, you will not only do what has been done to the fig tree, but even if you say to this mountain, 'Be taken up and thrown into the sea,' it will happen. And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith." (Mt.21:21-22)

I don't pretend to fully understand this, for such is the mystery and wonder of prayer. I only know that when we go to our heavenly Father and ask, our Abba, our Daddy always hears and answers. We may not get the precise answers we are looking or hoping for, but we can trust the heart and hand of our Father who always answers in the ultimately best and most perfect way for our greater good and His greater glory. O Lord, give us more faith to see, to understand, and to pray!

But aside from Jesus' lesson on prayer, I cannot help but think about that tuesday tree. How I love trees, and right now, at the cusp of spring, they are exploding with bounteous leaves and blooms and beauty! Yet here was a fruitless fig tree--a tree made by the Creator for an intended purpose, and it failed to fulfill that purpose. Just three days later, however, a different tree would fulfill it's terrible, wonderful redemptive purpose. For the King of Glory would offer Himself to be crucified on another tree and on that tree hung the hope of all mankind. On that tree justice and mercy kissed at the center of the cross. On that tree my sins, your sins, all sins, were nailed and covered by the blood which flowed freely, graciously, hideously, gloriously. On that tree, death and despair were defeated by love and grace.

Did Jesus think of that crucifixion tree, that salvation tree just three days in His future as He gazed upon the withered fig tree? How could He bear it--the weight of so much anticipated sin and evil and pain and humiliation? Yet He did, as He continued resolutely, faithfully on His way to that awful tree, our tree of hope.

Thank You Lord for that terrible, wonderful tree that spelled Your death, satan's defeat, and our destiny of eternal, abundant life. Help us to pray by faith and with faith, trusting You with the answers ...whatever, however, whenever.

Today, might we truly glimpse the trees You have so bounteously created that are all around us--the trees at every street corner, in every yard, so common, so ordinary--and, Lord, remind us again. With every tree we gaze upon, remind us of the price that was paid on another tree over two thousand years ago. Of the love that kept You on that tree. Of the blood that flowed. Of the forgiveness and grace it bestowed.

Give us grateful, faithful hearts, Lord, to see and believe. To the Savior who gave His life on a tree that we might live, be all the glory.