"Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's...He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is His steadfast love toward those who fear Him." (Ps.103:1-5, 10-11)
Just remembering the undeserved goodness and the extravagant grace of our Lord. Sometimes we rush along in life, busy and preoccupied, and we forget, don't we? Shame on us.
Consider this--all that we have, all that we've been forgiven of, all that we enjoy, all the people in our lives...all, all, all comes from His merciful, loving, gracious, powerful hands. What on earth do we have that we've earned or deserve? Nothing. Not one cotton-picking thing.
I mean, let's start with forgiveness, why don't we? We can't go 5 minutes without thinking some selfish or prideful or unkind or pig-headed thought! And yet the Sovereign of the universe chose, in His infinite grace and His unfathomable mercy, to send His Son to die for and redeem us often thoughtless, insecure, misguided, jealous, vain, greedy, shallow, sinful little dust people.
I'm sorry, but that's just the ugly, unvarnished truth of who we are. We are great sinners, as John Newton shared at the end of His life, but, oh my, we have such a great, great Savior.
When we ponder the vast, imponderable breadth of our forgiveness, well, we ought to be living this day and every day as if we are young children excitedly waking up on Christmas morning. Or as if we're a desperate beggar who just won the billion dollar lottery. Or perhaps as if we're a condemned man standing before the firing squad, and we've suddenly been pardoned and freed. We, of all people, should be overflowing with joy and wonder every single day of our lives. Can you believe it? He died for such as me? Who on earth could imagine such a thing?!
Yet how often do we live each day like that? Oh forgive us, Lord Jesus! Might we awaken each morning exultant in the stunning knowledge that You came to save us, that You love us, and that You have chosen to make Your abode within us!
Yes, we join the Psalmist in rejoicing "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits..." Oh help us not to forget, Father! Give us genius memories when it comes to recounting Your goodness and grace and generosity in our lives--for all You are, for all You've done, for all You've given, for all Your gifts.
Can I make a suggestion? If you're suffering from a joy leak today, perhaps it's time to start remembering all those benefits. Take the time--right this minute--to start counting God's gifts in your life. Stop grumbling about what you lack and start rejoicing in what you have. And in case you need a place to start--look at the cross. Oh what a great salvation! What a great Savior!
It's Christmas day today again! Rejoice! To God be the glory.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Sunday, April 27, 2014
On Envy
Just a little food for weekend thought:
Mighty convicting words on envy by the 17th century English author and clergyman, William Gurnall:
"Envy is an affront to the character and person of God. When you envy, you are questioning God's right to administer His gifts as He sees best. You are also maligning the goodness of God. You are angry that God wants to bless someone besides you. Would you not have God be good? You might as well say you would not have Him be God, for He can no more cease to be good than He can cease to be God! When your envy prods you to belittle the gifts of other Christians, you are really belittling God who gave them."
Isn't it funny how easily we can fall prey to envy? Goodness, I can find myself envying other people's dogs on the greenway, because they don't do somersaults and yank their owner's shoulder out of joint every time another dog comes along. Imagine that. Bingley, are you listening? But when you start envying the greenway behavior of other folks' dogs, well, I think you've reached a new low. So I'm repenting of that one right now!
What's the antidote for envy (in addition to repentance)? Gratitude. Thanksgiving. Focusing upon God's extravagant and undeserved goodness and grace in your life. Thanking Him for the blessings He's given rather than whining about those He's chosen, in His sovereign wisdom, to withhold.
As the Psalmist says, "The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; You hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance." (Ps.16:5-6)
Whatever our lot in life, God has chosen it, and He makes no mistakes. Perhaps the boundary lines differ from what we, in our limited vision, assumed would be best, but if He's established those boundaries, then they will fall in ultimately good, satisfying, and pleasing places.
The bottom line? We've got to stop resenting where God has placed the boundary lines for others and instead rejoice in wherever He's placed them for us. Because it's all, all, all by grace. His infinite, irrepressible, amazing grace.
So Mr. Bingley may struggle a bit in the overzealous greeting of other dogs on the greenway department, but he's got a corner on the market of snuggling and sweetness--
Father, forgive us when we envy, for not only is that the height of ingratitude and selfishness, but it is maligning Your very goodness. Keep us focused upon You. Keep us thankful. For "in Your presence there is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore." (Ps.16:11). Yes, indeed, all of Your children have a truly "beautiful inheritance!"
To God be the glory.
Mighty convicting words on envy by the 17th century English author and clergyman, William Gurnall:
"Envy is an affront to the character and person of God. When you envy, you are questioning God's right to administer His gifts as He sees best. You are also maligning the goodness of God. You are angry that God wants to bless someone besides you. Would you not have God be good? You might as well say you would not have Him be God, for He can no more cease to be good than He can cease to be God! When your envy prods you to belittle the gifts of other Christians, you are really belittling God who gave them."
Isn't it funny how easily we can fall prey to envy? Goodness, I can find myself envying other people's dogs on the greenway, because they don't do somersaults and yank their owner's shoulder out of joint every time another dog comes along. Imagine that. Bingley, are you listening? But when you start envying the greenway behavior of other folks' dogs, well, I think you've reached a new low. So I'm repenting of that one right now!
What's the antidote for envy (in addition to repentance)? Gratitude. Thanksgiving. Focusing upon God's extravagant and undeserved goodness and grace in your life. Thanking Him for the blessings He's given rather than whining about those He's chosen, in His sovereign wisdom, to withhold.
As the Psalmist says, "The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; You hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance." (Ps.16:5-6)
Whatever our lot in life, God has chosen it, and He makes no mistakes. Perhaps the boundary lines differ from what we, in our limited vision, assumed would be best, but if He's established those boundaries, then they will fall in ultimately good, satisfying, and pleasing places.
The bottom line? We've got to stop resenting where God has placed the boundary lines for others and instead rejoice in wherever He's placed them for us. Because it's all, all, all by grace. His infinite, irrepressible, amazing grace.
So Mr. Bingley may struggle a bit in the overzealous greeting of other dogs on the greenway department, but he's got a corner on the market of snuggling and sweetness--
To God be the glory.
Friday, April 25, 2014
The Middle--Part II
Anybody out there stuck in the middle right now? (If you're wondering what in tarnation I'm talking about, see the previous blog.) Middle age...middle of the rat race...middle of parenting...middle of the cancer treatment...middle of school...middle of that long, demanding project...middle of some challenge that seems to stretch out before you in an infinite, exhausting line?
Man, middles can be tough. We can no longer remember the thrill of the beginning and cannot yet glimpse the fulfilling finish line. So we can tend to slog along--giving in to discouragement, frustration, or even weary resignation.
Such prescient words C.S. Lewis writes in The Screwtape Letters. Screwtape, the senior devil advises Wormwood, the junior devil: "The long, dull, monotonous years of middle-aged prosperity or middle-aged adversity are excellent campaigning weather. You see, it is so hard for these creatures to persevere."
I had one of those moments the other day. It'd had been a busy couple of days (make that years...or decades), and this mama was just plain worn out. We'd been gone watching our son's golf (which, for me, is most definitely not relaxing--the whole time I feel vaguely nauseous with nerves), so the laundry situation had reached DEFCON 1.
The time had come to trudge upstairs and retrieve the kids' dirty clothes. I was met by...well, frankly, words fail me. And that's really saying something. We're talking the mother of all MESSES in every, single, cotton-picking room. Piles of dirty clothes, unmade beds, lights left on...are we living in a barn here?
At that moment, I got lost in the middle of all that exhausting, frustrating mess. Stomping downstairs, I was ill as a hornet, steams of fury surely emanating from my ears. This mom had HAD IT! What on earth could they have been thinking? How hard is it to pick up your wet towels or put away your clean clothes or....arrrrrrgh! I was mad, tired, discouraged, and firmly entrenched in the muddy middle of lost perspective, lost peace, and lost joy. Not a great place to be.
Right at that moment, my wise husband, perhaps alerted by the loud stomping sounds and deep sighs that a furious maniac was now loose in the house, calmly reminded me of something. And it changed everything. Like I said the other day--we need other people to encourage us in the middle, don't we?
Here's what he said:
"You remember right after we had that terrible diagnosis from that doctor? The one who told us that Janie would might never wake up? Might never recover, never walk or eat or talk? Well, right after I heard that, I went upstairs to her bedroom. And, as usual, it was a total, disastrous mess. Only this time, that mess was beautiful. And that mess made me cry. Because I knew that room would now be spotless for the next 30 years. Since Janie would never be able to go upstairs again, there would be no more messes to clean up...and all I could think was, 'Oh, if only we could have that messy room again. How on earth could I have been upset over a silly messy bedroom?'"
He continued, "Someday, those bedrooms will be spotless, because our children will be grown and gone. And I'm betting we'll really miss those messes. So why don't we be thankful right now for those messes and what they represent?"
Yeah. Well, now that you put it that way, I think I'll just sit down and cry for a while.
But they were tears of joy and gratitude, not frustration and discouragement. Because sometimes in the middle, we've got to pause to remember and reflect. First, remember our God and His Word and His promises. That's why we've got, got, got to be in His Word daily. We need spiritual nourishment every single day, every single hour to get us through the exhausting, challenging middles of life! I love how Jen Hatmaker put it for us moms: "Our only hope to speak with kindness, to lead with patience, and to not threaten our children with homicide is to ensure our spiritual reserves are not bone-dry. Moms are the middle [hey, there's that word again!] of the flow chart; the arrows of exertion flow constantly out from us, but when no arrows of strength, grace, and peace are flowing in, the whole mechanism is in danger. Goodness in equals goodness out. No goodness in equals no goodness out."
And that's just as true for dads and grandparents and teenagers and young adults and everybody else. We all need Him and His Word.
Can I put this is as simply and honestly as possible--if you're too busy to get into God's Word daily to be nourished and strengthened, then you are too busy. Period. We all--even the crazy busiest of us--have 24 hours a day, and the God who made us for Himself and longs to equip, encourage, and guide us has made us to run on His fuel. The fuel of His Word. So if you're too busy for Him, then something absolutely must go. We've got to be ruthless in cutting out the extraneous in order to find time for the excellent and necessary. If we don't, we'll find ourselves "bone-dry" and lacking the resources to find our way out of the wasteland of the middle.
But oh my, if we'll remember and reflect on God and His Word--on His presence with us, His power, His grace, His love, His goodness--we'll find ourselves renewed and revived in the midst of those dry deserts of our lives.
And secondly, we need to remember and reflect on God's gifts, on His goodness to us specifically. Just as my husband reminded me of the gifts behind those messy bedrooms--the treasure of our children. And the gift of Janie's healing.
Sometimes we just need to stop for a moment and start counting our blessings. Yeah, sure it sounds trite--but gratitude is literally LIFE CHANGING!! Dietrich Bonhoeffer said that "We pray for the big things and forget to give thanks for the ordinary, small (and yet really not small) gifts."
Amen! After all, isn't it those small, but not really small, gifts that splash joy and wonder all over our lives? Thank You, Father, for the fact that a messy bedroom means we have a house to live in, children to love, clothes to wear. Thank You for legs that can carry me up the stairs, eyes to see, hands that can carry the load. Thank You for a brain that can process, ears that can hear another's wisdom, and a voice that can speak out thanksgiving. Thank You for the gifts of laughter, perspective, companionship, hope, strength, faith. Thank You for family and friends that make this journey--even the challenging, exhausting parts--a joyous, loving adventure rather than a tiresome slog.
So just in case you're trudging along in the middle--stop! And take time daily to remember and reflect on Almighty God, His Word, and His greatness, glory, and grace. And then remember and reflect on His goodness to you and His innumerable gifts in your life. When you do, you'll find your middle transformed into a highway of blessing.
To God be the glory.
Man, middles can be tough. We can no longer remember the thrill of the beginning and cannot yet glimpse the fulfilling finish line. So we can tend to slog along--giving in to discouragement, frustration, or even weary resignation.
Such prescient words C.S. Lewis writes in The Screwtape Letters. Screwtape, the senior devil advises Wormwood, the junior devil: "The long, dull, monotonous years of middle-aged prosperity or middle-aged adversity are excellent campaigning weather. You see, it is so hard for these creatures to persevere."
I had one of those moments the other day. It'd had been a busy couple of days (make that years...or decades), and this mama was just plain worn out. We'd been gone watching our son's golf (which, for me, is most definitely not relaxing--the whole time I feel vaguely nauseous with nerves), so the laundry situation had reached DEFCON 1.
The time had come to trudge upstairs and retrieve the kids' dirty clothes. I was met by...well, frankly, words fail me. And that's really saying something. We're talking the mother of all MESSES in every, single, cotton-picking room. Piles of dirty clothes, unmade beds, lights left on...are we living in a barn here?
At that moment, I got lost in the middle of all that exhausting, frustrating mess. Stomping downstairs, I was ill as a hornet, steams of fury surely emanating from my ears. This mom had HAD IT! What on earth could they have been thinking? How hard is it to pick up your wet towels or put away your clean clothes or....arrrrrrgh! I was mad, tired, discouraged, and firmly entrenched in the muddy middle of lost perspective, lost peace, and lost joy. Not a great place to be.
Right at that moment, my wise husband, perhaps alerted by the loud stomping sounds and deep sighs that a furious maniac was now loose in the house, calmly reminded me of something. And it changed everything. Like I said the other day--we need other people to encourage us in the middle, don't we?
Here's what he said:
"You remember right after we had that terrible diagnosis from that doctor? The one who told us that Janie would might never wake up? Might never recover, never walk or eat or talk? Well, right after I heard that, I went upstairs to her bedroom. And, as usual, it was a total, disastrous mess. Only this time, that mess was beautiful. And that mess made me cry. Because I knew that room would now be spotless for the next 30 years. Since Janie would never be able to go upstairs again, there would be no more messes to clean up...and all I could think was, 'Oh, if only we could have that messy room again. How on earth could I have been upset over a silly messy bedroom?'"
He continued, "Someday, those bedrooms will be spotless, because our children will be grown and gone. And I'm betting we'll really miss those messes. So why don't we be thankful right now for those messes and what they represent?"
Yeah. Well, now that you put it that way, I think I'll just sit down and cry for a while.
But they were tears of joy and gratitude, not frustration and discouragement. Because sometimes in the middle, we've got to pause to remember and reflect. First, remember our God and His Word and His promises. That's why we've got, got, got to be in His Word daily. We need spiritual nourishment every single day, every single hour to get us through the exhausting, challenging middles of life! I love how Jen Hatmaker put it for us moms: "Our only hope to speak with kindness, to lead with patience, and to not threaten our children with homicide is to ensure our spiritual reserves are not bone-dry. Moms are the middle [hey, there's that word again!] of the flow chart; the arrows of exertion flow constantly out from us, but when no arrows of strength, grace, and peace are flowing in, the whole mechanism is in danger. Goodness in equals goodness out. No goodness in equals no goodness out."
And that's just as true for dads and grandparents and teenagers and young adults and everybody else. We all need Him and His Word.
Can I put this is as simply and honestly as possible--if you're too busy to get into God's Word daily to be nourished and strengthened, then you are too busy. Period. We all--even the crazy busiest of us--have 24 hours a day, and the God who made us for Himself and longs to equip, encourage, and guide us has made us to run on His fuel. The fuel of His Word. So if you're too busy for Him, then something absolutely must go. We've got to be ruthless in cutting out the extraneous in order to find time for the excellent and necessary. If we don't, we'll find ourselves "bone-dry" and lacking the resources to find our way out of the wasteland of the middle.
But oh my, if we'll remember and reflect on God and His Word--on His presence with us, His power, His grace, His love, His goodness--we'll find ourselves renewed and revived in the midst of those dry deserts of our lives.
And secondly, we need to remember and reflect on God's gifts, on His goodness to us specifically. Just as my husband reminded me of the gifts behind those messy bedrooms--the treasure of our children. And the gift of Janie's healing.
Sometimes we just need to stop for a moment and start counting our blessings. Yeah, sure it sounds trite--but gratitude is literally LIFE CHANGING!! Dietrich Bonhoeffer said that "We pray for the big things and forget to give thanks for the ordinary, small (and yet really not small) gifts."
Amen! After all, isn't it those small, but not really small, gifts that splash joy and wonder all over our lives? Thank You, Father, for the fact that a messy bedroom means we have a house to live in, children to love, clothes to wear. Thank You for legs that can carry me up the stairs, eyes to see, hands that can carry the load. Thank You for a brain that can process, ears that can hear another's wisdom, and a voice that can speak out thanksgiving. Thank You for the gifts of laughter, perspective, companionship, hope, strength, faith. Thank You for family and friends that make this journey--even the challenging, exhausting parts--a joyous, loving adventure rather than a tiresome slog.
So just in case you're trudging along in the middle--stop! And take time daily to remember and reflect on Almighty God, His Word, and His greatness, glory, and grace. And then remember and reflect on His goodness to you and His innumerable gifts in your life. When you do, you'll find your middle transformed into a highway of blessing.
To God be the glory.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
The Middle--Part I
You are in the middle of something. I don't what it is, but trust me, you are definitely in the middle of something or other in your life. The middle of college, or the middle of preschoolers, or the middle of a brutal stretch at work, or the middle of caring for aging parents, or the middle of treatment for a disease, or the middle of the muddy years of middle-age with it's slow leaks and losses...of empty nests, wrinkles, and constant forgetfulness. Not to mention the middle-school years--oh my, those are the Bermuda Triangle years of schooling. I well remember the smeared black eyeliner and rather unfortunate fashion choices our girls made in Middle School...not to mention, for all of five of ours, the braces, bad skin, and bad attitudes.
Yep, no doubt about it--middles can be hard...challenging...confusing...exhausting... and oftentimes downright discouraging. You know why I think that is? Because we tend to lose perspective in the middle. We've forgotten the exhilaration of the beginning. The excitement, the energy, the hope, the unknown adventure of all that's before us.
And we've not yet arrived at the ending, the long-awaited conclusion. The treasure of perspective, sometimes hard-gained, the wisdom of lessons learned, the peace of conflicts resolved, the joy of hope revived and different dreams reborn. Even difficult endings bring relief and often the realization that it was not quite as painful as we'd anticipated.
Yes sir, the beginnings and the endings in our lives, in our stories, in whatever it is that we're enduring or enjoying right at the moment, both possess so many jewels of joy, knowledge, and peace...
...but not necessarily the long, slogging, slow middle. Middles can be marathons, can't they?
I'll never forget the one and only marathon I ran (uh, make that "jogged") while I was in law school. It sounded like such a fabulous idea at the beginning. The training--at the beginning--was somewhat fun. By the middle, the training was torturous. All those miserable, hot, and lonely, long runs on sore and weary legs. Clearly I'd lost my mind in thinking I could train for a marathon during law school. Yet by the end of the training, it was all happiness and excitement over achieving the goal of preparation for the big event.
And then it was time for the marathon itself. Once again, gloriously delightful beginning. Oh yes, beginnings can be like puppies--cute, fun, lots of work but you're happily lost in the joy of it all.
We ran--oops, jogged--the D.C. marathon, and the beginning was nearly magic as we passed the magnificent monuments on a bright fall day. Isn't life grand?...until the middle. Oh Lord have mercy, that was misery personified. Around mile 20 I hit the wall and thought I was going to die...actually hoped I would die as anything would be better than continuing that long, slow, boring, painful, endless trail of tears.
But God's been teaching me a few things about middles. Come back in a day or two for some more lessons, but here's just one critical one--we need each other in the middle. You've gotta have friends or family, someone to encourage you (which, incidentally, is a French word meaning "to pour courage into") and remind you that the middle is not forever. That God's in control and He's working and moving. That the end is just ahead, and you can make it, one step at a time.
That's exactly what my dear, wonderful sisters did for me in that travail of a marathon. Mary Norris and Jane saw I was struggling, and they literally ran alongside me--in blue jeans and down jackets--for a mile or two till the finish line was in sight. With their purses banging at their sides as they jogged beside me, they yelled encouraging things about the tar heel basketball team and James Worthy and Dean Smith and never quitting. Exhortations like "Never give up!" and "You can do it!" and "Almost there!" I'm quite sure they probably quoted Winston Churchill a time or two as well.
Their love and encouragement kept me going...kept me jogging when all I wanted to do was quit, sit down in a heap and cry.
Our family and friends did the same thing for us when Janie was in such desperate shape in the hospital. That middle stretch in the ICU was so long, uncertain, scary, and discouraging. But family and friends continuously rode in as the calvary--day and night--right smack in our middle. Friends and family who encouraged us by pouring strength into our desperately weak and thirsty hearts. And so we forged ahead through that middle...all the way to the glorious end.
More on this later, but for now, I just want to remind you, if you're struggling in the doldrums or dead zone of the middle--the end is coming. This will not last forever. I don't care how you feel right now--I promise you will not feel that way forever. Hope will be reborn. Joy will return. Strength will revive.
Might my words be like my jogging sisters to resupply you with courage. You can do it. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other, trusting, knowing, God's in control, He's got a plan, and the end of your story will ultimately be glorious beyond imagining. Middles don't last forever. Find a friend to help you remember and to give you a fresh vision for the way ahead.
And just in case you've forgotten--"There's a friend who sticks closer than a brother." (Proverbs. 18:24) The Lord Jesus knows all about middles...and beginnings and endings. He'll pull you through, not somehow, but triumphantly. I've read the end of the story...it's beyond spectacular. So keep your gaze on Him and keep on going. It will be soooo worth it!
To God be the glory.
Yep, no doubt about it--middles can be hard...challenging...confusing...exhausting... and oftentimes downright discouraging. You know why I think that is? Because we tend to lose perspective in the middle. We've forgotten the exhilaration of the beginning. The excitement, the energy, the hope, the unknown adventure of all that's before us.
And we've not yet arrived at the ending, the long-awaited conclusion. The treasure of perspective, sometimes hard-gained, the wisdom of lessons learned, the peace of conflicts resolved, the joy of hope revived and different dreams reborn. Even difficult endings bring relief and often the realization that it was not quite as painful as we'd anticipated.
Yes sir, the beginnings and the endings in our lives, in our stories, in whatever it is that we're enduring or enjoying right at the moment, both possess so many jewels of joy, knowledge, and peace...
...but not necessarily the long, slogging, slow middle. Middles can be marathons, can't they?
I'll never forget the one and only marathon I ran (uh, make that "jogged") while I was in law school. It sounded like such a fabulous idea at the beginning. The training--at the beginning--was somewhat fun. By the middle, the training was torturous. All those miserable, hot, and lonely, long runs on sore and weary legs. Clearly I'd lost my mind in thinking I could train for a marathon during law school. Yet by the end of the training, it was all happiness and excitement over achieving the goal of preparation for the big event.
And then it was time for the marathon itself. Once again, gloriously delightful beginning. Oh yes, beginnings can be like puppies--cute, fun, lots of work but you're happily lost in the joy of it all.
We ran--oops, jogged--the D.C. marathon, and the beginning was nearly magic as we passed the magnificent monuments on a bright fall day. Isn't life grand?...until the middle. Oh Lord have mercy, that was misery personified. Around mile 20 I hit the wall and thought I was going to die...actually hoped I would die as anything would be better than continuing that long, slow, boring, painful, endless trail of tears.
But God's been teaching me a few things about middles. Come back in a day or two for some more lessons, but here's just one critical one--we need each other in the middle. You've gotta have friends or family, someone to encourage you (which, incidentally, is a French word meaning "to pour courage into") and remind you that the middle is not forever. That God's in control and He's working and moving. That the end is just ahead, and you can make it, one step at a time.
That's exactly what my dear, wonderful sisters did for me in that travail of a marathon. Mary Norris and Jane saw I was struggling, and they literally ran alongside me--in blue jeans and down jackets--for a mile or two till the finish line was in sight. With their purses banging at their sides as they jogged beside me, they yelled encouraging things about the tar heel basketball team and James Worthy and Dean Smith and never quitting. Exhortations like "Never give up!" and "You can do it!" and "Almost there!" I'm quite sure they probably quoted Winston Churchill a time or two as well.
Their love and encouragement kept me going...kept me jogging when all I wanted to do was quit, sit down in a heap and cry.
Our family and friends did the same thing for us when Janie was in such desperate shape in the hospital. That middle stretch in the ICU was so long, uncertain, scary, and discouraging. But family and friends continuously rode in as the calvary--day and night--right smack in our middle. Friends and family who encouraged us by pouring strength into our desperately weak and thirsty hearts. And so we forged ahead through that middle...all the way to the glorious end.
More on this later, but for now, I just want to remind you, if you're struggling in the doldrums or dead zone of the middle--the end is coming. This will not last forever. I don't care how you feel right now--I promise you will not feel that way forever. Hope will be reborn. Joy will return. Strength will revive.
Might my words be like my jogging sisters to resupply you with courage. You can do it. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other, trusting, knowing, God's in control, He's got a plan, and the end of your story will ultimately be glorious beyond imagining. Middles don't last forever. Find a friend to help you remember and to give you a fresh vision for the way ahead.
And just in case you've forgotten--"There's a friend who sticks closer than a brother." (Proverbs. 18:24) The Lord Jesus knows all about middles...and beginnings and endings. He'll pull you through, not somehow, but triumphantly. I've read the end of the story...it's beyond spectacular. So keep your gaze on Him and keep on going. It will be soooo worth it!
To God be the glory.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Bittersweet Endings
You know, it all just comes down to one of my favorite verses in all of Scripture: Eph.3:20--
Now--this day, the only day, the only time we have, right now for our present needs at this moment.
Now to Him--It's all about Him. Our Maker, Redeemer, and Lord.
Now to Him Who is able--He. Is. Able. We could stop there--He's able to handle anything and everything.
Now to Him Who is able to do--He can DO it. He not only hears us, He not only loves us, but He has the power to act and move.
Now to Him Who is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think--Whatever we can conceive or dream up in our wildest dreams. Nothing's too big for Him.
Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think according to the power at work within us--The power that raised Jesus from the dead, that gave sight to the blind, that healed the leaper...yes, that power resides within all who believe. That's some serious power.
Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think according to the power at work within us, to Him be the glory...Back to where we started--it's all, all, all about Him and His glory. Sometimes we forget that.
So right now, I'm just thanking my Ephesians 3:20 God for His presence and power. With us in the sunshine and happiest of moments in life...with us in the hardest, darkest times...and with us in all the in-betweens as well.
We're feeling mighty bittersweet around our house right now. We just watched our oldest son play his last golf tournament with his Davidson College teammates. And it was both joyous, nerve-wracking, fun, discouraging, exhilarating, happy, and so sad. So happy that it happened. So sad that it's over.
The college years literally fly by...which means our children are growing up and moving away, and can I just say for the record, that I personally think this stinks? Yes, yes, I know that's totally selfish...but oh my, how we want to be able to hold onto them just a little bit longer. Maybe a few more soccer games with our oldest daughter. A few more singing performances with our younger daughter. A few more preschool mother's day teas or Christmas parties or Easter egg hunts. A few more times to read Goodnight Moon or Horton Hears a Who or Polar Express with my boys. Why didn't I realize each of those readings would be the last with my little ones? Would I have taken more time and attention? Even in the midst of those exhausting preschool years, how could I have ever resented giving a few more minutes to read and talk and pray?
And maybe just a few more college golf tournaments with our son and his amazing teammates. Thank You Lord for the priceless gift of this group of young men--
God truly has done far more abundantly than all we could ask or think in Richard's Davidson College experience. I can so well remember the trepidation, worry, and even a bit of sadness my husband and I felt when we dropped him off as a college freshman. It seemed far from home. Far from what we knew. Far from his friends. Far from our comfort zone...
...and all right next to the perfect plan of God. Thank You Lord that Your ways and plans are far, far greater than ours. Help us to trust You even when we cannot see or understand...because You are able to do far more abundantly.
My husband has been to almost all of Richard's tournaments. And hard as all this graduating stuff is on his old mama, I think it's even a bit harder on his daddy. Dang, this growing up stuff is hard. But we have to keep coming back to Dr. Seuss timeless words, "Don't cry that it's over; smile that it happened."
So thank You, thank You, Lord that it all happened. The tears may come...but You'll be there too. Help us to trust You in all our tomorrows.
To God be the glory.
Now--this day, the only day, the only time we have, right now for our present needs at this moment.
Now to Him--It's all about Him. Our Maker, Redeemer, and Lord.
Now to Him Who is able--He. Is. Able. We could stop there--He's able to handle anything and everything.
Now to Him Who is able to do--He can DO it. He not only hears us, He not only loves us, but He has the power to act and move.
Now to Him Who is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think--Whatever we can conceive or dream up in our wildest dreams. Nothing's too big for Him.
Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think according to the power at work within us--The power that raised Jesus from the dead, that gave sight to the blind, that healed the leaper...yes, that power resides within all who believe. That's some serious power.
Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think according to the power at work within us, to Him be the glory...Back to where we started--it's all, all, all about Him and His glory. Sometimes we forget that.
So right now, I'm just thanking my Ephesians 3:20 God for His presence and power. With us in the sunshine and happiest of moments in life...with us in the hardest, darkest times...and with us in all the in-betweens as well.
We're feeling mighty bittersweet around our house right now. We just watched our oldest son play his last golf tournament with his Davidson College teammates. And it was both joyous, nerve-wracking, fun, discouraging, exhilarating, happy, and so sad. So happy that it happened. So sad that it's over.
The college years literally fly by...which means our children are growing up and moving away, and can I just say for the record, that I personally think this stinks? Yes, yes, I know that's totally selfish...but oh my, how we want to be able to hold onto them just a little bit longer. Maybe a few more soccer games with our oldest daughter. A few more singing performances with our younger daughter. A few more preschool mother's day teas or Christmas parties or Easter egg hunts. A few more times to read Goodnight Moon or Horton Hears a Who or Polar Express with my boys. Why didn't I realize each of those readings would be the last with my little ones? Would I have taken more time and attention? Even in the midst of those exhausting preschool years, how could I have ever resented giving a few more minutes to read and talk and pray?
And maybe just a few more college golf tournaments with our son and his amazing teammates. Thank You Lord for the priceless gift of this group of young men--
...and all right next to the perfect plan of God. Thank You Lord that Your ways and plans are far, far greater than ours. Help us to trust You even when we cannot see or understand...because You are able to do far more abundantly.
My husband has been to almost all of Richard's tournaments. And hard as all this graduating stuff is on his old mama, I think it's even a bit harder on his daddy. Dang, this growing up stuff is hard. But we have to keep coming back to Dr. Seuss timeless words, "Don't cry that it's over; smile that it happened."
Friday, April 18, 2014
Joseph and Nicodemus and Good Friday
Good Friday. Oh how terrible, how horrific beyond imagining this Good Friday for the sinless Son of God. Yet how beautiful, how wondrous beyond all hoping this Good Friday for the sinful souls of mankind. There simply are no words for all He endured for us and all He accomplished for us.
But as I try to peer into the gloom and glory of that good and horrible day, the vision of a small, simple chapel comes to mind. It's located in the beautiful National Cathedral in Washington, DC. The cathedral itself is truly magnificent--rainbow-colored stained glass windows that paint the floors in washes of color, soaring flying buttresses, honey-colored stone and marble cut in impossibly delicate patterns, life-like statues...it's just spectacular.
Yet, that glorious upper floor is not my favorite part. Not by a long shot. You have to go down, way down, into the bowels of the cathedral, down the steep stairs. Down, down--isn't that always the way to ultimate joy and contentment--down on our knees, down in humility, down in obedience, down in relinquishment, down to serve others rather than self?
Down there you'd find a small chapel with no brightly-colored stained glass windows...nor any windows at all, for that matter. No high ceilings that draw your sight ever up. No intricate carvings.
Nope, to get there you have to go down again...down more stairs into The Chapel of St. Joseph of Arimathea. As I recall, the chapel has two entrances opposite one another--and both lead to stairs that go down into the chapel. Surely it's to remind you of a crypt, a burial place. No ornamentation of any kind...save a magnificent mosaic across the whole front wall. But oh my, what a mosaic for it depicts Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus preparing the body of the Lord Jesus for burial in Joseph's tomb.
How I love that moment. For you see Joseph and Nicodemus had both failed Jesus mightily during His lifetime. Nicodemus and Joseph were both members of the Council--the one that tried and condemned Jesus. You remember Nicodemus was the one who earlier came to Jesus secretly at night--old Nic didn't want to risk anyone seeing him visiting Jesus. Too much to lose for Nic--so he hid. But what about now?
We're told in John 19:38-40: "After these things, Joseph of Arimathea who was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews, asked Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus, and Pilate gave him permission. So he came and took away His body. Nicodemus also, who earlier had come to Jesus by night, came bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about 75 pounds in weight. So they took the body of Jesus and bound it in linen cloths with the pieces, as is the burial custom of the Jews."
We know from the other gospels that this was Joseph's own tomb. He'd followed Jesus secretly in life. Perhaps he and Nicodemus failed to speak up for Jesus not only during His ministry but during His trial as well. Too scared they might lose the respect of others, might forfeit their powerful positions, might be put in a category with those Jesus-following fanatics. So they played it safe and secret and silent. So full of fear, so uncertain, so stunned, surely by the course of events, that they likely refused to stand up for Christ, quietly trying to straddle the fence while He was accused and abused by the Sanhedrin and the officials. They missed their opportunity to stand up for the Savior who would die for them.
Until this moment. Isn't it amazing--now that Jesus was dead, now that all seemed lost, they boldly decide the time has come to quit playing it safe and to openly reveal to the world their love and their willingness to sacrifice for this man. It's as if they realized who Jesus truly was and what He'd come to do and that saving knowledge trumped their fears, their position, their security, their wealth. They were done with giving in to "what if's" or "we can't do that" or "that's too hard for me."
Nope, they just threw fear and caution to the wind and asked for the body of Jesus. They lovingly prepared Him for burial. And Joseph gave Jesus his own tomb.
Don't you wonder what their extended families said? Or the other pharisees? Or the temple establishment? Or the Roman officials?
None of that mattered to Joseph and Nicodemus. Not anymore. They bravely and simply did what they could to honor the One who had lived and died for them and for us. I'm betting they had no earthly idea that their deed would reverberate across the centuries! I betting they never dreamed that Jesus wouldn't be needing that tomb for long. Nope, all they knew was that the time had come to stand for the One they'd loved and followed secretly...and so they stood and did what they could, no matter the consequences.
And that was that...on that terrible, dark, Good Friday.
But that wasn't the end of the story, was it?
No, Joseph and Nicodemus remind us that God never gives up on us. That He delights to take even those of us who've failed....who've missed opportunities...who've succumbed to fear and worry...who've run out of strength and courage...who've missed the mark yet again...and restore us, revive us, and redeem us. And use us--even us--for His glory. God's not finished with us when we mess up--He's only just begun His finest resurrection work in our lives if we will come to Him in repentance and faith. It's called grace...and it truly is amazing.
So this Good Friday, might you remember that no matter what failures are in your past--or your present--His blood still covers all our sin. His presence still converts our weakness into strength. And His Holy Spirit still comes to lead and guide us into His truth.
It's never too late. Not with our Savior. Just ask Joseph and Nicodemus.
To God be the glory.
But as I try to peer into the gloom and glory of that good and horrible day, the vision of a small, simple chapel comes to mind. It's located in the beautiful National Cathedral in Washington, DC. The cathedral itself is truly magnificent--rainbow-colored stained glass windows that paint the floors in washes of color, soaring flying buttresses, honey-colored stone and marble cut in impossibly delicate patterns, life-like statues...it's just spectacular.
Yet, that glorious upper floor is not my favorite part. Not by a long shot. You have to go down, way down, into the bowels of the cathedral, down the steep stairs. Down, down--isn't that always the way to ultimate joy and contentment--down on our knees, down in humility, down in obedience, down in relinquishment, down to serve others rather than self?
Down there you'd find a small chapel with no brightly-colored stained glass windows...nor any windows at all, for that matter. No high ceilings that draw your sight ever up. No intricate carvings.
Nope, to get there you have to go down again...down more stairs into The Chapel of St. Joseph of Arimathea. As I recall, the chapel has two entrances opposite one another--and both lead to stairs that go down into the chapel. Surely it's to remind you of a crypt, a burial place. No ornamentation of any kind...save a magnificent mosaic across the whole front wall. But oh my, what a mosaic for it depicts Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus preparing the body of the Lord Jesus for burial in Joseph's tomb.
How I love that moment. For you see Joseph and Nicodemus had both failed Jesus mightily during His lifetime. Nicodemus and Joseph were both members of the Council--the one that tried and condemned Jesus. You remember Nicodemus was the one who earlier came to Jesus secretly at night--old Nic didn't want to risk anyone seeing him visiting Jesus. Too much to lose for Nic--so he hid. But what about now?
We're told in John 19:38-40: "After these things, Joseph of Arimathea who was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews, asked Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus, and Pilate gave him permission. So he came and took away His body. Nicodemus also, who earlier had come to Jesus by night, came bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about 75 pounds in weight. So they took the body of Jesus and bound it in linen cloths with the pieces, as is the burial custom of the Jews."
We know from the other gospels that this was Joseph's own tomb. He'd followed Jesus secretly in life. Perhaps he and Nicodemus failed to speak up for Jesus not only during His ministry but during His trial as well. Too scared they might lose the respect of others, might forfeit their powerful positions, might be put in a category with those Jesus-following fanatics. So they played it safe and secret and silent. So full of fear, so uncertain, so stunned, surely by the course of events, that they likely refused to stand up for Christ, quietly trying to straddle the fence while He was accused and abused by the Sanhedrin and the officials. They missed their opportunity to stand up for the Savior who would die for them.
Until this moment. Isn't it amazing--now that Jesus was dead, now that all seemed lost, they boldly decide the time has come to quit playing it safe and to openly reveal to the world their love and their willingness to sacrifice for this man. It's as if they realized who Jesus truly was and what He'd come to do and that saving knowledge trumped their fears, their position, their security, their wealth. They were done with giving in to "what if's" or "we can't do that" or "that's too hard for me."
Nope, they just threw fear and caution to the wind and asked for the body of Jesus. They lovingly prepared Him for burial. And Joseph gave Jesus his own tomb.
Don't you wonder what their extended families said? Or the other pharisees? Or the temple establishment? Or the Roman officials?
None of that mattered to Joseph and Nicodemus. Not anymore. They bravely and simply did what they could to honor the One who had lived and died for them and for us. I'm betting they had no earthly idea that their deed would reverberate across the centuries! I betting they never dreamed that Jesus wouldn't be needing that tomb for long. Nope, all they knew was that the time had come to stand for the One they'd loved and followed secretly...and so they stood and did what they could, no matter the consequences.
And that was that...on that terrible, dark, Good Friday.
But that wasn't the end of the story, was it?
No, Joseph and Nicodemus remind us that God never gives up on us. That He delights to take even those of us who've failed....who've missed opportunities...who've succumbed to fear and worry...who've run out of strength and courage...who've missed the mark yet again...and restore us, revive us, and redeem us. And use us--even us--for His glory. God's not finished with us when we mess up--He's only just begun His finest resurrection work in our lives if we will come to Him in repentance and faith. It's called grace...and it truly is amazing.
So this Good Friday, might you remember that no matter what failures are in your past--or your present--His blood still covers all our sin. His presence still converts our weakness into strength. And His Holy Spirit still comes to lead and guide us into His truth.
It's never too late. Not with our Savior. Just ask Joseph and Nicodemus.
To God be the glory.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
Maundy Thursday
Thursday of Holy Week. The disciples spend their last evening of Jesus' earthly life sharing the Passover supper with Him, while He, the Lord of glory, washes their feet. The lowliest, dirtiest, grimiest job that was performed only by the most menial of servants--yet the King of Kings "rose from supper...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." (John 13:4-5)
Might this never cease to astound and awe us! The exalted and holy One willingly laid aside all His glory, all His rights in order to come down to serve and save sinners like us. What a graphic picture this washing of those dusty feet was...giving us the tiniest glimpse of all Christ relinquished in order to wash away the stain of our sin.
So much happened on this Maundy Thursday--"Maundy"--Latin for "commandment" or "mandate." Jesus commanded the disciples--and us--while washing those dirty feet, "A new commandment I give you to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:34-35) His command--so simple, so profound, yet oh so challenging--is to love like He loved. Well, no actually, not challenging...absolutely impossible...save by the power of the Holy Spirit living within us.
The Last Supper, Jesus instructions and teaching--His last precious words--and finally leaving that last, sweet time of fellowship and going out into the inky blackness of night...and the darkest time in human history.
And yet, one last moment that astounds me. Before Jesus and the disciples leave, they sing a hymn. "And when they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives." (Mt.26:30) Jews traditionally sang Psalms 113-118 during the Passover festivities, always culminating in Psalm 118. Thus, in all likelihood, the last hymn sung by Jesus and the disciples before they left the upper room to go to Gethsemane would have been Psalm 118.
Imagine all that Jesus faced. Yet despite the horrors of what He knew was coming, Jesus sang. Oh the power of our praise and worship, especially in those moments of greatest crisis or need or fear.
And what a Psalm this is--especially the words--"The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes. This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." (Ps.118:22-24) The rejected stone, the cornerstone is Jesus. And He was about to be rejected, denied, betrayed, humiliated, despised, killed. And all that was "marvelous in our eyes"--marvelous because by His stripes, we are healed. By His death, we are forgiven.
Therefore that day--that terrible, beautiful, awful, Good Friday, would be "the day that the Lord has made" and we will "rejoice and be glad in it." That's what they sang about just before leaving for the Garden and the beginning of the whole terrible ordeal.
So much in one day, one Maundy Thursday. But that song of praise--in the face of so much pain and sorrow and sin-bearing--that leaves me awed and thankful for such a Redeemer. Yes, if that day could be the "day the Lord has made" and if we can and should "rejoice and be glad in it" then there should never be a day without such rejoicing and gratitude.
Thank You, thank You, thank You, Lord Jesus. Another step, another day closer to the cross...yet still rejoicing. To God be the glory.
Might this never cease to astound and awe us! The exalted and holy One willingly laid aside all His glory, all His rights in order to come down to serve and save sinners like us. What a graphic picture this washing of those dusty feet was...giving us the tiniest glimpse of all Christ relinquished in order to wash away the stain of our sin.
So much happened on this Maundy Thursday--"Maundy"--Latin for "commandment" or "mandate." Jesus commanded the disciples--and us--while washing those dirty feet, "A new commandment I give you to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:34-35) His command--so simple, so profound, yet oh so challenging--is to love like He loved. Well, no actually, not challenging...absolutely impossible...save by the power of the Holy Spirit living within us.
The Last Supper, Jesus instructions and teaching--His last precious words--and finally leaving that last, sweet time of fellowship and going out into the inky blackness of night...and the darkest time in human history.
And yet, one last moment that astounds me. Before Jesus and the disciples leave, they sing a hymn. "And when they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives." (Mt.26:30) Jews traditionally sang Psalms 113-118 during the Passover festivities, always culminating in Psalm 118. Thus, in all likelihood, the last hymn sung by Jesus and the disciples before they left the upper room to go to Gethsemane would have been Psalm 118.
Imagine all that Jesus faced. Yet despite the horrors of what He knew was coming, Jesus sang. Oh the power of our praise and worship, especially in those moments of greatest crisis or need or fear.
And what a Psalm this is--especially the words--"The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes. This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it." (Ps.118:22-24) The rejected stone, the cornerstone is Jesus. And He was about to be rejected, denied, betrayed, humiliated, despised, killed. And all that was "marvelous in our eyes"--marvelous because by His stripes, we are healed. By His death, we are forgiven.
Therefore that day--that terrible, beautiful, awful, Good Friday, would be "the day that the Lord has made" and we will "rejoice and be glad in it." That's what they sang about just before leaving for the Garden and the beginning of the whole terrible ordeal.
So much in one day, one Maundy Thursday. But that song of praise--in the face of so much pain and sorrow and sin-bearing--that leaves me awed and thankful for such a Redeemer. Yes, if that day could be the "day the Lord has made" and if we can and should "rejoice and be glad in it" then there should never be a day without such rejoicing and gratitude.
Thank You, thank You, thank You, Lord Jesus. Another step, another day closer to the cross...yet still rejoicing. To God be the glory.
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Who do we fear, really?
Wednesday of Holy Week. A relatively calm day outwardly, for Jesus continues teaching in the temple complex--seemingly without controversy--but all the while His enemies plot and plan the death of God. Think of it.
"And every day He was teaching in the temple, but at night He went out and lodged on the mount called Olivet. And early in the morning all the people came to Him in the temple to hear Him. Now the Feast of Unleavened Bread drew near, which is called the Passover. And the chief priests and the scribes were seeking how to put Him to death, for they feared the people." (Luke 21:37-2:2)
The religious elite were apparently not frightened by the wrath of God. They were not intimidated by the Son of God standing before them. They didn't worry about the opinion of their Creator and Sustainer right there in their midst. No, they schemed obsessively over how to kill the Messiah because "they feared the people."
You want to throw stones, boulders even, at these shallow power-grabbers. These fickle, manipulative leaders who should have been falling on their faces before their Redeemer...and instead flew in a rage and began plotting His destruction. How can that be?
These men should have been Israel's shepherds and guides, teaching and leading their flock to love, obey, and worship God...and His Anointed. But instead they lead the charge to reject Him and kill Him and thus rid themselves of this trouble-maker, this One who keeps uncomfortably shaking things up. And all because they feared man and man's opinion, man's accolades, man's rewards more than God. What a trade-off. Choosing the temporary over the eternal. The comfortable over the unknown adventure. The religious over the relationship. The dust over the divine.
I couldn't help but be reminded of the epithet that marks the resting place of one of Britain's greatest heroes in a London cathedral. The words read simply: "He fear man so little, because He feared God so much."
But not these religious leaders. Imagine it--they were scared of mere men and not Almighty God.
But even as I angrily wanted to gather stones to hurl at these plotters, God stopped me in my tracks. Who do I fear, really? What do I fear, really? Am I truly more concerned with God's opinion or with what others think of me? Because all too often...isn't it really fear of man that keeps us awake at night? Fear of what might happen to our children or our parents or our friends. Fear of failure. Fear of rejection. Fear of not having things go the way we want. Fear of being found out.
But here's the thing: God already knows it all anyway. We can't hide from Him. He knows our most secret thoughts and our most hidden dark sins. He knows our fears and our weaknesses. He knows all about that mess and muck in our lives that we'd die if others knew about it.
He knows all things. He created all things. He has the power to do all things. He is perfect and holy and majestic and unapproachable in His glory. And we are little dust people, often wagging our tiny, impotent fists in His awesome and fearsome face. How dare we?
Yet despite all He knows...despite His high and lofty position so infinitely far above ours...He passionately loves us little dust people anyway. He died for us anyway--"But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Rom.5:8)
Sometimes you simply need to take a deep breath and let that astounding truth wash over you. Because if that doesn't rock your world, you need to step back and remember who you are, really. And Whose you are, really.
He is Aslan--the mighty Lion of Judah. Powerful beyond understanding. Pure and holy beyond imagining. Majestic and glorious beyond comprehension. And if we will redirect our fear to the One who is worthy, we will find all our other little fears suddenly diminished, even diminutive and insignificant.
In one of the my favorite scenes in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Lucy asks Beaver about this Aslan she's been hearing about, but not yet met. She wonders if he's a man--
"Aslan a man!" said Mr. Beaver sternly. "Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. Don't you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion - the Lion, the great Lion."
"Ooh!" said Susan. "I thought he was a man. Is he - quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion."
"That you will, dearie, and no mistake," said Mrs. Beaver; "if there's anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else just silly."
"Then he isn't safe?" said Lucy."Safe?" said Mr. Beaver; "don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."
No, He is not safe! Who would want to worship a King of Kings who was safe and small? He is high and lifted up and Almighty and glorious...but He is so, so good and full of grace and forgiveness and kindness and love. Truly, truly wondrous and amazing.
Thank You, Lord Jesus, that You are not a mere man. We praise You as the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords...who descended so infinitely far down to save a wretch like me, like us. Oh might we fear You--not man--and might the result be profound gratitude and joyous worship. For you are worthy.
To God--our Aslan--be all the glory.
"And every day He was teaching in the temple, but at night He went out and lodged on the mount called Olivet. And early in the morning all the people came to Him in the temple to hear Him. Now the Feast of Unleavened Bread drew near, which is called the Passover. And the chief priests and the scribes were seeking how to put Him to death, for they feared the people." (Luke 21:37-2:2)
The religious elite were apparently not frightened by the wrath of God. They were not intimidated by the Son of God standing before them. They didn't worry about the opinion of their Creator and Sustainer right there in their midst. No, they schemed obsessively over how to kill the Messiah because "they feared the people."
You want to throw stones, boulders even, at these shallow power-grabbers. These fickle, manipulative leaders who should have been falling on their faces before their Redeemer...and instead flew in a rage and began plotting His destruction. How can that be?
These men should have been Israel's shepherds and guides, teaching and leading their flock to love, obey, and worship God...and His Anointed. But instead they lead the charge to reject Him and kill Him and thus rid themselves of this trouble-maker, this One who keeps uncomfortably shaking things up. And all because they feared man and man's opinion, man's accolades, man's rewards more than God. What a trade-off. Choosing the temporary over the eternal. The comfortable over the unknown adventure. The religious over the relationship. The dust over the divine.
I couldn't help but be reminded of the epithet that marks the resting place of one of Britain's greatest heroes in a London cathedral. The words read simply: "He fear man so little, because He feared God so much."
But not these religious leaders. Imagine it--they were scared of mere men and not Almighty God.
But even as I angrily wanted to gather stones to hurl at these plotters, God stopped me in my tracks. Who do I fear, really? What do I fear, really? Am I truly more concerned with God's opinion or with what others think of me? Because all too often...isn't it really fear of man that keeps us awake at night? Fear of what might happen to our children or our parents or our friends. Fear of failure. Fear of rejection. Fear of not having things go the way we want. Fear of being found out.
But here's the thing: God already knows it all anyway. We can't hide from Him. He knows our most secret thoughts and our most hidden dark sins. He knows our fears and our weaknesses. He knows all about that mess and muck in our lives that we'd die if others knew about it.
He knows all things. He created all things. He has the power to do all things. He is perfect and holy and majestic and unapproachable in His glory. And we are little dust people, often wagging our tiny, impotent fists in His awesome and fearsome face. How dare we?
Yet despite all He knows...despite His high and lofty position so infinitely far above ours...He passionately loves us little dust people anyway. He died for us anyway--"But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Rom.5:8)
Sometimes you simply need to take a deep breath and let that astounding truth wash over you. Because if that doesn't rock your world, you need to step back and remember who you are, really. And Whose you are, really.
He is Aslan--the mighty Lion of Judah. Powerful beyond understanding. Pure and holy beyond imagining. Majestic and glorious beyond comprehension. And if we will redirect our fear to the One who is worthy, we will find all our other little fears suddenly diminished, even diminutive and insignificant.
In one of the my favorite scenes in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Lucy asks Beaver about this Aslan she's been hearing about, but not yet met. She wonders if he's a man--
"Aslan a man!" said Mr. Beaver sternly. "Certainly not. I tell you he is the King of the wood and the son of the great Emperor-beyond-the-Sea. Don't you know who is the King of Beasts? Aslan is a lion - the Lion, the great Lion."
"Ooh!" said Susan. "I thought he was a man. Is he - quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion."
"That you will, dearie, and no mistake," said Mrs. Beaver; "if there's anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they're either braver than most or else just silly."
"Then he isn't safe?" said Lucy."Safe?" said Mr. Beaver; "don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."
No, He is not safe! Who would want to worship a King of Kings who was safe and small? He is high and lifted up and Almighty and glorious...but He is so, so good and full of grace and forgiveness and kindness and love. Truly, truly wondrous and amazing.
Thank You, Lord Jesus, that You are not a mere man. We praise You as the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords...who descended so infinitely far down to save a wretch like me, like us. Oh might we fear You--not man--and might the result be profound gratitude and joyous worship. For you are worthy.
To God--our Aslan--be all the glory.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Tuesday...praying and waiting
Tuesday of Holy Week. Trying to walk with Jesus through this week...but sometimes I get busy, frazzled, preoccupied and momentarily lose sight of Him. Forgive me, Father.
So I sit down just for a few minutes to touch base with the Savior. Tell Him about my day...my dreams...my mistakes...my fears...and my love. Oh help us to cease striving and working and rushing, Lord Jesus, so we might follow You to green pastures and still waters. Might we hand You our sins and failures and misses of this day and in exchange breathe in the divine air of Your forgiveness and grace and hope and joy.
As Jesus drew another step, another day, closer to the cross, He kept teaching and exhorting and loving those He had created and came to save. That tuesday morning, Jesus and the disciples again return to Jerusalem and pass the same fig tree the Lord has cursed the day before. Good old Peter excitedly notices it and exclaims "Rabbi look! The fig tree that You cursed has withered."
Jesus responds: "Have faith in God. Truly I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, 'Be taken up and thrown into the sea,' and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. And whenever you stand praying, forgive if you have anything against anyone so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses." (Mk11:20-26)
I don't even pretend to understand all that the Lord says here. Such a vast and amazing promise! But here's what I do know: Jesus said it. His Word never fails. And if He says we can move spiritual mountains by way of believing prayer, well then, I believe it even if I don't fully comprehend it. So why on earth aren't we praying?
There was more teaching on this Tuesday...more questioning by the religious leaders desperately trying to trap Jesus; more parables; more discussions with His disciples. But for now, it's enough to know Jesus resolutely continues heading towards the cross on this tuesday. And He does it for you. For me. For us.
And so we follow...and pray...and believe...and wait. The cross is coming. But so is the resurrection. To God be the glory.
So I sit down just for a few minutes to touch base with the Savior. Tell Him about my day...my dreams...my mistakes...my fears...and my love. Oh help us to cease striving and working and rushing, Lord Jesus, so we might follow You to green pastures and still waters. Might we hand You our sins and failures and misses of this day and in exchange breathe in the divine air of Your forgiveness and grace and hope and joy.
As Jesus drew another step, another day, closer to the cross, He kept teaching and exhorting and loving those He had created and came to save. That tuesday morning, Jesus and the disciples again return to Jerusalem and pass the same fig tree the Lord has cursed the day before. Good old Peter excitedly notices it and exclaims "Rabbi look! The fig tree that You cursed has withered."
Jesus responds: "Have faith in God. Truly I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, 'Be taken up and thrown into the sea,' and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will come to pass, it will be done for him. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours. And whenever you stand praying, forgive if you have anything against anyone so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses." (Mk11:20-26)
I don't even pretend to understand all that the Lord says here. Such a vast and amazing promise! But here's what I do know: Jesus said it. His Word never fails. And if He says we can move spiritual mountains by way of believing prayer, well then, I believe it even if I don't fully comprehend it. So why on earth aren't we praying?
There was more teaching on this Tuesday...more questioning by the religious leaders desperately trying to trap Jesus; more parables; more discussions with His disciples. But for now, it's enough to know Jesus resolutely continues heading towards the cross on this tuesday. And He does it for you. For me. For us.
And so we follow...and pray...and believe...and wait. The cross is coming. But so is the resurrection. To God be the glory.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Monday failures...and our loving Father
Monday of Holy Week.
Two big events occurred on this last monday of Jesus' earthly life. He cursed a fig tree that bore no fruit, and He cleansed the temple of the avaricious moneychangers and merchants who sought to profit from the needs of Jewish pilgrims coming to present their sacrifices at the temple. "In the morning, as He was returning to the city, He became hungry. And seeing a fig tree by the wayside, He went to it and found nothing on it but only leaves. And He said to it, 'May no fruit ever come from you again!' And the fig tree withered at once." (Mt.21:18-19)
And then later that day (though it's not in chronological order in Matthew)--"And Jesus entered the temple, and He overturned the tables of the moneychangers and the seats of those who sold pigeons. He said to them, 'It is written, 'My house shall be called a house of prayer,' but you make it den of thieves.'" (Mt.21:12-13)
Scholars tell us that because the Old Testament often refers to the Israel as a fig tree, this cursing by Jesus symbolizes God's judgment upon this "nation that has the outward appearance of life but fails to bear fruit."
Oh man, that's convicting. How often has that been the case in our lives--we look the part; we show up at church; we say the right words...but inwardly, our hearts don't reflect what our words or appearance outwardly portrays. And if our hearts are wrong, then ultimately our attitudes and actions will be wrong as well. If there's little or no fruit in my life, well then, I'm clearly not connected with the Source of fruitful power.
And then there's all those merchants who, similarly, might look like they're serving God. They're at the temple, after all, apparently working and serving God, right? Wrong! Wrong motives--greed and selfishness--and terribly wrong hearts. Where there should have been prayer...there was profiteering.
Again, Lord help us. Forgive us for so often seeking our own ways, our selfish agendas, our promotion...rather than prayerfully seeking Your glory above and beyond all else.
Lots of conviction. Lots of reminders of all the ways we fall terribly short and miss the mark. Whew, mondays can be tough, can't they?
I just got a couple of emails from my youngest. He has had a tough go at school this monday morning. He'd studied really hard for a test. And I mean, he gave it all he had in preparing for this test. He assumed he'd done well. In fact, he was excited about getting the results back today. Well, that is till he actually got it back...and found out he'd done poorly. And his sad, utterly discouraged emails about broke my heart. This mama wrote him back that he'd done his best and that's what counted. That we would learn from this--maybe figure out a better way to study--and move on. That I'd just read this morning, "Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." (I Cor.10:31) and that when we do our best and leave it to God in prayer, then He's glorified. We trust Him with the results and know He's working and moving.
But it got me thinking. Isn't it funny how we assume God is most glorified in our glowing successes and victories? We assume that when we fall down or fail somehow that, well, we've failed God and surely somehow or other dimmed His glory in our lives.
We moms can be especially good at thinking this. Whenever our children mess up...or we mess up...or anything in the universe even tangentially related to our families or homes or jobs mess up...well, then we shoulder that mother-load (pun intended) of guilt and shame.
But here's what I'm learning: God's glory doesn't depend upon our sterling performance. Or that of our children. Or our spotless home. Or our amazing ability to multitask and get it all done perfectly.
Nope, it's really about our hearts. When we have hearts devoted to loving and honoring Him in all we do, when we simply seek to love the Savior and follow Him as best we know how, I think He's glorified...
And dare I say it, I even think He's pleased as punch and proud of His children who stumble and fall sometimes, but who are giving it their all to love and obey their Heavenly Daddy? Well, that's how I felt about my dearly loved child...and my Father is a million, billion, zillion time (and beyond) better parent than any of us!
I needed to remind my son that sometimes it's not about results but about effort...and heart. We do our best, love our Lord, and leave the results to our Abba. We just don't want to be that fancy, fine looking fig tree that's all smoke and mirrors but no fruit. Or those moneychangers who appear so "religious" but in reality have hearts far, far from the Lord.
Failure's fine. False hearts are not.
So today, if you're feeling a bit like a failure, can I just remind you that God sees the heart and the effort, and that's what counts in His grace-drenched, forgiveness-filled and love-saturated eyes. Not the A on the test. Not the spotless home. Not the perfectly-behaved child. Not the accolades at work. Not the sparkling accomplishments. Nope, just loving and following Him with all your heart.
Loved these words from Jen Hatmaker--especially for us moms...us weighed-down-by-the-burden-of-our-impossible-expectations moms. "You are enough as a mother when you act like your Redeemer, dear one. When you talk like He talked, love like He loved, forgive like He forgave, and teach like He taught. When you launch your children into this big, exciting, wonderful world, that is all that will matter. It is what they'll remember and imitate. It is enough."
And it's enough for any of us struggling on a monday. Because He's always enough.
To God--the Redeemer not only of our sins but of our failures--be all the glory.
Two big events occurred on this last monday of Jesus' earthly life. He cursed a fig tree that bore no fruit, and He cleansed the temple of the avaricious moneychangers and merchants who sought to profit from the needs of Jewish pilgrims coming to present their sacrifices at the temple. "In the morning, as He was returning to the city, He became hungry. And seeing a fig tree by the wayside, He went to it and found nothing on it but only leaves. And He said to it, 'May no fruit ever come from you again!' And the fig tree withered at once." (Mt.21:18-19)
And then later that day (though it's not in chronological order in Matthew)--"And Jesus entered the temple, and He overturned the tables of the moneychangers and the seats of those who sold pigeons. He said to them, 'It is written, 'My house shall be called a house of prayer,' but you make it den of thieves.'" (Mt.21:12-13)
Scholars tell us that because the Old Testament often refers to the Israel as a fig tree, this cursing by Jesus symbolizes God's judgment upon this "nation that has the outward appearance of life but fails to bear fruit."
Oh man, that's convicting. How often has that been the case in our lives--we look the part; we show up at church; we say the right words...but inwardly, our hearts don't reflect what our words or appearance outwardly portrays. And if our hearts are wrong, then ultimately our attitudes and actions will be wrong as well. If there's little or no fruit in my life, well then, I'm clearly not connected with the Source of fruitful power.
And then there's all those merchants who, similarly, might look like they're serving God. They're at the temple, after all, apparently working and serving God, right? Wrong! Wrong motives--greed and selfishness--and terribly wrong hearts. Where there should have been prayer...there was profiteering.
Again, Lord help us. Forgive us for so often seeking our own ways, our selfish agendas, our promotion...rather than prayerfully seeking Your glory above and beyond all else.
Lots of conviction. Lots of reminders of all the ways we fall terribly short and miss the mark. Whew, mondays can be tough, can't they?
I just got a couple of emails from my youngest. He has had a tough go at school this monday morning. He'd studied really hard for a test. And I mean, he gave it all he had in preparing for this test. He assumed he'd done well. In fact, he was excited about getting the results back today. Well, that is till he actually got it back...and found out he'd done poorly. And his sad, utterly discouraged emails about broke my heart. This mama wrote him back that he'd done his best and that's what counted. That we would learn from this--maybe figure out a better way to study--and move on. That I'd just read this morning, "Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." (I Cor.10:31) and that when we do our best and leave it to God in prayer, then He's glorified. We trust Him with the results and know He's working and moving.
But it got me thinking. Isn't it funny how we assume God is most glorified in our glowing successes and victories? We assume that when we fall down or fail somehow that, well, we've failed God and surely somehow or other dimmed His glory in our lives.
We moms can be especially good at thinking this. Whenever our children mess up...or we mess up...or anything in the universe even tangentially related to our families or homes or jobs mess up...well, then we shoulder that mother-load (pun intended) of guilt and shame.
But here's what I'm learning: God's glory doesn't depend upon our sterling performance. Or that of our children. Or our spotless home. Or our amazing ability to multitask and get it all done perfectly.
Nope, it's really about our hearts. When we have hearts devoted to loving and honoring Him in all we do, when we simply seek to love the Savior and follow Him as best we know how, I think He's glorified...
And dare I say it, I even think He's pleased as punch and proud of His children who stumble and fall sometimes, but who are giving it their all to love and obey their Heavenly Daddy? Well, that's how I felt about my dearly loved child...and my Father is a million, billion, zillion time (and beyond) better parent than any of us!
I needed to remind my son that sometimes it's not about results but about effort...and heart. We do our best, love our Lord, and leave the results to our Abba. We just don't want to be that fancy, fine looking fig tree that's all smoke and mirrors but no fruit. Or those moneychangers who appear so "religious" but in reality have hearts far, far from the Lord.
Failure's fine. False hearts are not.
So today, if you're feeling a bit like a failure, can I just remind you that God sees the heart and the effort, and that's what counts in His grace-drenched, forgiveness-filled and love-saturated eyes. Not the A on the test. Not the spotless home. Not the perfectly-behaved child. Not the accolades at work. Not the sparkling accomplishments. Nope, just loving and following Him with all your heart.
Loved these words from Jen Hatmaker--especially for us moms...us weighed-down-by-the-burden-of-our-impossible-expectations moms. "You are enough as a mother when you act like your Redeemer, dear one. When you talk like He talked, love like He loved, forgive like He forgave, and teach like He taught. When you launch your children into this big, exciting, wonderful world, that is all that will matter. It is what they'll remember and imitate. It is enough."
And it's enough for any of us struggling on a monday. Because He's always enough.
To God--the Redeemer not only of our sins but of our failures--be all the glory.
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Despite all He knew, He came...and still comes
"Now when they drew near to Jerusalem and came to Bethphage, to the Mount of Olives, then Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, 'Go into the village in front of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her. Untie them and bring them to Me. If anyone says anything to you, you shall say, 'The Lord needs them,' and he will send them at once.' This took place to fulfill what was spoken by the prophet saying, 'Say to the daughter of Zion, Behold, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a beast of burden.' The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them. They brought the donkey and the colt and put on them their cloaks, and He sat on them. Most of the crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. And the crowds that went before Him and that followed Him were shouting 'Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!' And when He entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred up, saying, 'Who is this?'" (Matt.21:1-10)
Palm Sunday. We enter today the first day of Holy Week, celebrating the day that Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a colt, while the Passover crowds shouted their "Hosannas."
Think of it--the city of Jerusalem was teaming with mobs of folks from all over Israel, who had excitedly arrived in the City of David to celebrate the Passover. And right in the midst of all that hoopla and activity and speculation, in rides Jesus--unequivocally fulfilling Old Testament prophecy from Zech.9:9 that the Messiah would come riding on the foal of a donkey. No wonder the crowds excitedly hailed Jesus as King!
But as I contemplated this joyous moment, with palm branches waving and children shouting happily, I couldn't help but realize...Jesus knew. Jesus knew the full and complete story. He knew that in five days, these same joyful shouts of "Hosanna!" would morph into brutal taunts and hateful yelling of "Crucify Him!" The disciples were blissfully ignorant of the horrors that lay ahead. The crowds were clueless about how fickle and deadly their shouts would soon become.
Only Jesus knew. And yet, He came. Despite the horrific knowledge of what lay ahead--the betrayal, the denial, the insults, the spitting, the slapping, the scourging, the taunting...the weight of all that sin upon the cross--despite it all, He joyfully rode into Jerusalem. All the while knowing, He was, at that very moment, signing His death warrant.
As Andreas Kostenberger writes: "Up to this point in Jesus's ministry, He could still have managed to live a long, happy, peaceful life, but His actions on Sunday set in motion a series of events that could result in either His overthrow of the Romans and the current religious establishment--or His brutal death. He had crossed the point of no return; there would be no turning back. Caesar could allow no rival kings." Nor could the pharisees and the religious establishment.
Somehow I never considered what internal agony this could have, must have, been for Jesus. Such excitement and enthusiasm exhibited by the crowds. Such unabated joy and rejoicing. I wonder if the sun shone brightly and warmly on a lovely spring morning like it is here today in Raleigh? Birds singing; trees budding; flowers blooming; and pilgrims happily shouting and waving palm branches to welcome the true and rightful King.
And yet the terrible, dark counterpoint...another step closer to crucifixion. Jesus' choice to enter as the King--humble, yes, on a donkey's colt, but nonetheless, as the prophetic fulfillment of the Messianic King--would inexorably begin His lonely, hard march to the cross.
If somehow or other you possessed the awful knowledge that in less than a week, you'd be hated, betrayed, denied, tortured, humiliated, and brutally executed, would you be able to do anything? Would you be able to have a single conversation with anyone? Wouldn't you be weighed down with the horrific knowledge of it all, filled with dread, fear, and even bitterness at the terrible abyss of pain and death staring at you?
I know I would. I'd be unable to speak or laugh or eat or frankly care about anything or anyone. How could you not be preoccupied by the oppressive, terrible weight of it all?
And yet, Jesus wasn't. No, despite everything He knew, He came and obediently, joyfully rode into the city filled with people that He loved and for whom He would soon be dying. Despite it all, He kept teaching, kept exhorting, kept working, kept forgiving, kept loving...all the way to the very end.
How can you not love such a Savior? How can you not worship such a Redeemer?
He knows it all about us too. Even as we vow to put Him first, to "get our priorities straight," and then fail Him again...He still loves us and comes to us and urges us to follow Him. Even as we make promises we're, again, unable to keep...His promises to us in His Word never, ever fail; nor will He ever fail us or forsake us. Even as we give in to fretting and fear over the future and refuse to trust Him again...He comes to us, riding in as our King, and telling us, once more, that He's got it; He's got us; and He's working all things out for our good and His glory. Even as we, fickle children that we are, complain and fuss, forgetting all He's done for us and all He's given us...He loves us still, continuing to lavish upon us His grace, His mercy, His presence, His peace, His power.
What a relentless Savior. He never gives in to fear. He never succumbs to discouragement. He never grows tired or weary or exasperated. No, He keeps coming, loving, forgiving, saving as our gracious and glorious King. Day after day, despite all that He knows of us...because of His infinite love and His unrelenting grace.
So, Father, all we can say is, thank You, thank You, thank You. Oh might we truly worship You, our King--not just with our voices...but with our hearts, souls, minds and bodies. Thank You that despite all You know of us, You still come to us as our Savior that we might know You as Father and Friend.
For You, our true and forever King, are worthy.
To God be the glory.
Palm Sunday. We enter today the first day of Holy Week, celebrating the day that Jesus rode into Jerusalem on a colt, while the Passover crowds shouted their "Hosannas."
Think of it--the city of Jerusalem was teaming with mobs of folks from all over Israel, who had excitedly arrived in the City of David to celebrate the Passover. And right in the midst of all that hoopla and activity and speculation, in rides Jesus--unequivocally fulfilling Old Testament prophecy from Zech.9:9 that the Messiah would come riding on the foal of a donkey. No wonder the crowds excitedly hailed Jesus as King!
But as I contemplated this joyous moment, with palm branches waving and children shouting happily, I couldn't help but realize...Jesus knew. Jesus knew the full and complete story. He knew that in five days, these same joyful shouts of "Hosanna!" would morph into brutal taunts and hateful yelling of "Crucify Him!" The disciples were blissfully ignorant of the horrors that lay ahead. The crowds were clueless about how fickle and deadly their shouts would soon become.
Only Jesus knew. And yet, He came. Despite the horrific knowledge of what lay ahead--the betrayal, the denial, the insults, the spitting, the slapping, the scourging, the taunting...the weight of all that sin upon the cross--despite it all, He joyfully rode into Jerusalem. All the while knowing, He was, at that very moment, signing His death warrant.
As Andreas Kostenberger writes: "Up to this point in Jesus's ministry, He could still have managed to live a long, happy, peaceful life, but His actions on Sunday set in motion a series of events that could result in either His overthrow of the Romans and the current religious establishment--or His brutal death. He had crossed the point of no return; there would be no turning back. Caesar could allow no rival kings." Nor could the pharisees and the religious establishment.
Somehow I never considered what internal agony this could have, must have, been for Jesus. Such excitement and enthusiasm exhibited by the crowds. Such unabated joy and rejoicing. I wonder if the sun shone brightly and warmly on a lovely spring morning like it is here today in Raleigh? Birds singing; trees budding; flowers blooming; and pilgrims happily shouting and waving palm branches to welcome the true and rightful King.
And yet the terrible, dark counterpoint...another step closer to crucifixion. Jesus' choice to enter as the King--humble, yes, on a donkey's colt, but nonetheless, as the prophetic fulfillment of the Messianic King--would inexorably begin His lonely, hard march to the cross.
If somehow or other you possessed the awful knowledge that in less than a week, you'd be hated, betrayed, denied, tortured, humiliated, and brutally executed, would you be able to do anything? Would you be able to have a single conversation with anyone? Wouldn't you be weighed down with the horrific knowledge of it all, filled with dread, fear, and even bitterness at the terrible abyss of pain and death staring at you?
I know I would. I'd be unable to speak or laugh or eat or frankly care about anything or anyone. How could you not be preoccupied by the oppressive, terrible weight of it all?
And yet, Jesus wasn't. No, despite everything He knew, He came and obediently, joyfully rode into the city filled with people that He loved and for whom He would soon be dying. Despite it all, He kept teaching, kept exhorting, kept working, kept forgiving, kept loving...all the way to the very end.
How can you not love such a Savior? How can you not worship such a Redeemer?
He knows it all about us too. Even as we vow to put Him first, to "get our priorities straight," and then fail Him again...He still loves us and comes to us and urges us to follow Him. Even as we make promises we're, again, unable to keep...His promises to us in His Word never, ever fail; nor will He ever fail us or forsake us. Even as we give in to fretting and fear over the future and refuse to trust Him again...He comes to us, riding in as our King, and telling us, once more, that He's got it; He's got us; and He's working all things out for our good and His glory. Even as we, fickle children that we are, complain and fuss, forgetting all He's done for us and all He's given us...He loves us still, continuing to lavish upon us His grace, His mercy, His presence, His peace, His power.
What a relentless Savior. He never gives in to fear. He never succumbs to discouragement. He never grows tired or weary or exasperated. No, He keeps coming, loving, forgiving, saving as our gracious and glorious King. Day after day, despite all that He knows of us...because of His infinite love and His unrelenting grace.
So, Father, all we can say is, thank You, thank You, thank You. Oh might we truly worship You, our King--not just with our voices...but with our hearts, souls, minds and bodies. Thank You that despite all You know of us, You still come to us as our Savior that we might know You as Father and Friend.
For You, our true and forever King, are worthy.
To God be the glory.
Thursday, April 10, 2014
Remebering Haman-hardship to Purim-celebration
Well, our Bible study just wrapped up for the year as we finished with the wonderful book of Esther. What a story in which God used a Jewish exile named Mordecai and his niece, an orphan named Esther (who was, remarkably, married to the Persian King Ahasuerus--long story) to thwart the wicked plan of an evil Persian commander named Haman. Haman convinced the king to issue an irrevocable order to allow the killing of every single Jew in the vast Persian empire. And it's incredible, but out of all that fear and despair and seeming hopelessness, when it appeared as if the Jewish race would be utterly wiped out, God used Esther "for such a time as this" to courageously intercede and save her people from annihilation. And thus, out of the most potentially horrific of circumstances comes one of the most joyous of Jewish celebrations--the Festival of Purim.
That's a drastically abbreviated version of the book of Esther--but if you haven't read it, go find Esther in the Old Testament! I'm telling you, the Bible is filled with amazing stories of real people, just like you and me. Ordinary folks just living their regular old lives...but in the midst of their day-by-day living, God uses them in extraordinary ways. Because that's the kind of God He is.
But I digress...something new and different.
Here's what I was thinking about--isn't it remarkable how God takes the very things in our lives that seem so discouraging or disastrous or disappointing and uses them in ways that unexpectedly and ultimately bring hope and joy and blessing? It may take a while. A long while. But, boy, God uses those hardest, darkest of places in our lives in ways we cannot possibly see or imagine at the time. Perhaps, just perhaps, that frightening or seemingly impossible thing in your life right now might one day be your Purim--when you'll be able to look back and rejoice at what the Lord incredibly did...how He used, that most challenging or frustrating or even bewildering of times in your life for remarkable good.
I was reminded of this again, because I just saw two pictures that took me back. One was of Mary Norris and Matt when they rushed to be with us after Janie's accident. Janie lay in a coma-- unconscious and unresponsive--and had developed a high fever and infection that required us all to don hazmat-like suits to go into the ICU to be with her. But even then, God gave us the gift of His presence and, incredibly, hope--
We had our thumbs up because we were waiting and praying...waiting and praying....that Janie would somehow, someday awaken and give the doctor's the "thumbs up" in response to their efforts every hour, round the clock, to awaken her. The nurses and doctors would yell each time: "Janie wake up! Janie wake up! If you can hear me, give me a thumbs up!" Day after day, night after night, nothing. Oh such painful waiting. She never woke up...until one glorious day, nearly two weeks later, those eyelids flickered and there was the tiniest, almost imperceptive movement of her left thumb. Oh thank You Lord! This picture just brought it all back--the waiting and praying and hoping and fighting constant dread and fear with faith.
And then, this picture from just a few weeks back when Mary Norris and Matt came through Chapel Hill, and a couple of us got together for a little dinner and dessert at their favorite spot--"The Yogurt Pump." A good study break for Janie...and a good reminder of God's faithfulness for us--
God took a terribly dark and scary time in our lives...and brought unimaginable blessing out of it. Many folks came to know Jesus as their Savior through all this. We came to know trust and gratitude in ways we couldn't have imagined. And through it all, God was mightily glorified.
I say all this simply to remind you--if you are in the midst of that hard, tough place of waiting or longing or suffering or struggling, God is still on His throne. He is working and moving in ways you may see and cannot imagine.
And sometimes, you simply have to trust Him in the darkness. Because He will always, always, always somehow or other, bring light out of that darkness. He's promised. "In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." (John 1:4-5)
Might you see the Light of the World in the midst of your darkness...and trust. He may, even now, be turning your Haman-like hardship into a Purim-like celebration.
To God be the glory.
That's a drastically abbreviated version of the book of Esther--but if you haven't read it, go find Esther in the Old Testament! I'm telling you, the Bible is filled with amazing stories of real people, just like you and me. Ordinary folks just living their regular old lives...but in the midst of their day-by-day living, God uses them in extraordinary ways. Because that's the kind of God He is.
But I digress...something new and different.
Here's what I was thinking about--isn't it remarkable how God takes the very things in our lives that seem so discouraging or disastrous or disappointing and uses them in ways that unexpectedly and ultimately bring hope and joy and blessing? It may take a while. A long while. But, boy, God uses those hardest, darkest of places in our lives in ways we cannot possibly see or imagine at the time. Perhaps, just perhaps, that frightening or seemingly impossible thing in your life right now might one day be your Purim--when you'll be able to look back and rejoice at what the Lord incredibly did...how He used, that most challenging or frustrating or even bewildering of times in your life for remarkable good.
I was reminded of this again, because I just saw two pictures that took me back. One was of Mary Norris and Matt when they rushed to be with us after Janie's accident. Janie lay in a coma-- unconscious and unresponsive--and had developed a high fever and infection that required us all to don hazmat-like suits to go into the ICU to be with her. But even then, God gave us the gift of His presence and, incredibly, hope--
And then, this picture from just a few weeks back when Mary Norris and Matt came through Chapel Hill, and a couple of us got together for a little dinner and dessert at their favorite spot--"The Yogurt Pump." A good study break for Janie...and a good reminder of God's faithfulness for us--
I say all this simply to remind you--if you are in the midst of that hard, tough place of waiting or longing or suffering or struggling, God is still on His throne. He is working and moving in ways you may see and cannot imagine.
And sometimes, you simply have to trust Him in the darkness. Because He will always, always, always somehow or other, bring light out of that darkness. He's promised. "In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." (John 1:4-5)
Might you see the Light of the World in the midst of your darkness...and trust. He may, even now, be turning your Haman-like hardship into a Purim-like celebration.
To God be the glory.
Monday, April 7, 2014
The Road of Bitter or Blessed?
Well, you win some, you lose some. Truer words never were spoken!
It's was a tough weekend for Team Fountain when it came to golf. Both our boys had practiced as hard as they could, had high hopes...and both had disappointing finishes in their respective golf tournaments. And let me tell you, as a parent, it's so hard, so heartbreaking to see your child discouraged and disappointed after they've given it all they had and have seemingly fallen short. I awoke in the middle of the night and fretted about it into the wee early morning hours. Sometimes it's tough being a mama or a daddy!
But now that I've taken a step back...and a deep breath (have you noticed we tend to forget that in the heat of the moment?)...God reminded me that He's still on the throne and uses everything in our lives and in our children's lives to draw us closer to Him and to increasingly conform us into the image of Christ. Here's my basic problem: I would like that process to occur without any problems, any disappointments, any failures, or any sorrows whatsoever.
Yep, Lord, how about skipping the car accidents, failed tests at school, evidences of sinfulness in the form of lies, unkindness, or ingratitude, losses--whether on the golf course or in the course of life generally, diseases and sicknesses...and on and on. How about a perfect, pain-free, success-assured life for all of our children and loved ones? Wouldn't that be a great way to grow our children into the mighty men and women of God You've called them to be?
Naw...don't think so. God can grow a mushroom in 60 hours...but if He wants to grow a mighty oak, it takes 60 years. And lots of sun and rain and blowing gales and thunderstorms to cause that oak to grow it's roots down deep, deep into the rich soil of His good earth, so it can withstand the test of time and tempest.
So too with our children...and all the rest of us. Lord, we want You to grow them into mighty oaks of Your righteousness...but we know that requires time, patience, love, guidance, correction, wisdom...
And failure. Sometimes falling down and getting back up again...and again...and again--all by the grace of God and all for the glory of Almighty God.
"The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in His way; though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand." (Ps.37:23-24) "...for though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again, but the wicked stumble when calamity strikes." (Prov.24:16)
Thanks for the reminder, Father, and please forgive this forgetful, fretting, often failing mama. Oh thank You for grace for all my many stumbles and falls...and for all the ways You redeem even our failures!
Just this morning, I found a little quotation I'd scribbled on a piece of scrap of paper in my Bible. It was something I'd heard and illegibly jotted down years ago, but the Lord knew I would need to read it on this very day. Here's what it said--
"Every milestone moment always forks, and you get to choose which road you'll go--bitter or blessed."
Yes, Father, I choose the road blessed. I choose to see everything that You choose to give--and everything that You choose to withhold--as a blessing...though sometimes artfully disguised as disappointment or pain or loss. All as gifts from the hand of a Sovereign Lord whose heart is ever tuned to unrelenting love and grace for His own. Thank You for Your relentless blessings--even blessings of falling down and failure and missing the mark. For You are in them all, through them all, and will use them all in powerful ways to perfect our characters into Your beautiful likeness.
When that milestone moment forks for each of us...might we turn away from the highway of bitter...and worry...and resentment, and choose instead the road of blessed...and trust...and gratitude.
Oh, and by the way, yesterday afternoon, I couldn't help but be reminded of the famous line at the end of the movie, It's a Wonderful Life. You remember it--the angel, Clarence, writes to George Bailey, "No man is a failure who has friends." Friends--another priceless treasure on the road of blessed. Our son may have lost in golf, but he sure won in friendship. These are a few of his Davidson buddies that came yesterday to watch him for one of his last tournaments as a college student--
The gift of such friends over four years on the road blessed...I'd chalk that up as a win. A big win.
To God be the glory.
It's was a tough weekend for Team Fountain when it came to golf. Both our boys had practiced as hard as they could, had high hopes...and both had disappointing finishes in their respective golf tournaments. And let me tell you, as a parent, it's so hard, so heartbreaking to see your child discouraged and disappointed after they've given it all they had and have seemingly fallen short. I awoke in the middle of the night and fretted about it into the wee early morning hours. Sometimes it's tough being a mama or a daddy!
But now that I've taken a step back...and a deep breath (have you noticed we tend to forget that in the heat of the moment?)...God reminded me that He's still on the throne and uses everything in our lives and in our children's lives to draw us closer to Him and to increasingly conform us into the image of Christ. Here's my basic problem: I would like that process to occur without any problems, any disappointments, any failures, or any sorrows whatsoever.
Yep, Lord, how about skipping the car accidents, failed tests at school, evidences of sinfulness in the form of lies, unkindness, or ingratitude, losses--whether on the golf course or in the course of life generally, diseases and sicknesses...and on and on. How about a perfect, pain-free, success-assured life for all of our children and loved ones? Wouldn't that be a great way to grow our children into the mighty men and women of God You've called them to be?
Naw...don't think so. God can grow a mushroom in 60 hours...but if He wants to grow a mighty oak, it takes 60 years. And lots of sun and rain and blowing gales and thunderstorms to cause that oak to grow it's roots down deep, deep into the rich soil of His good earth, so it can withstand the test of time and tempest.
So too with our children...and all the rest of us. Lord, we want You to grow them into mighty oaks of Your righteousness...but we know that requires time, patience, love, guidance, correction, wisdom...
And failure. Sometimes falling down and getting back up again...and again...and again--all by the grace of God and all for the glory of Almighty God.
"The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in His way; though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand." (Ps.37:23-24) "...for though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again, but the wicked stumble when calamity strikes." (Prov.24:16)
Thanks for the reminder, Father, and please forgive this forgetful, fretting, often failing mama. Oh thank You for grace for all my many stumbles and falls...and for all the ways You redeem even our failures!
Just this morning, I found a little quotation I'd scribbled on a piece of scrap of paper in my Bible. It was something I'd heard and illegibly jotted down years ago, but the Lord knew I would need to read it on this very day. Here's what it said--
"Every milestone moment always forks, and you get to choose which road you'll go--bitter or blessed."
Yes, Father, I choose the road blessed. I choose to see everything that You choose to give--and everything that You choose to withhold--as a blessing...though sometimes artfully disguised as disappointment or pain or loss. All as gifts from the hand of a Sovereign Lord whose heart is ever tuned to unrelenting love and grace for His own. Thank You for Your relentless blessings--even blessings of falling down and failure and missing the mark. For You are in them all, through them all, and will use them all in powerful ways to perfect our characters into Your beautiful likeness.
When that milestone moment forks for each of us...might we turn away from the highway of bitter...and worry...and resentment, and choose instead the road of blessed...and trust...and gratitude.
Oh, and by the way, yesterday afternoon, I couldn't help but be reminded of the famous line at the end of the movie, It's a Wonderful Life. You remember it--the angel, Clarence, writes to George Bailey, "No man is a failure who has friends." Friends--another priceless treasure on the road of blessed. Our son may have lost in golf, but he sure won in friendship. These are a few of his Davidson buddies that came yesterday to watch him for one of his last tournaments as a college student--
To God be the glory.
Friday, April 4, 2014
What I don't do...
Well, we're off to watch our oldest son, Richard, play in one of the last remaining college golf tournaments at Davidson. Where on earth has the time gone? He surely arrived there as a freshman the day before yesterday...and now he'll be graduating in a little over a month?! No way...but yes way. Time doesn't march on...time sprints on.
Lord, can't we make a little agreement to freeze time and all our children for say, 5 to 10 years?
I think I know the answer to that question...so instead, I join King David with the prayer, "Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom." (Ps.90:12)
But here's what I've been thinking a lot about lately--time is a limited and precious resource. Duh, you say? But still, how often do we treat lots of other far less important and expendable things as more valuable than the brief time God gives us on this planet? I try not to go out and throw $20 bills all over the ground to be blown about in the wind. I make an effort not to ruin our children's best clothes when I'm doing laundry (sometimes I fail in this endeavor--a size large Broughton golf jacket recently became a small. sigh). I valiantly strive not to back our suburban into walls or mailboxes (again, not always with success).
Yet how often do I throw away and waste time as if I have an infinite supply of it? Sure, we have eternity in heaven...but while our feet trod the dust of this earth, we have a limited amount of time and energy to do what God's called us to do and to love Him and the people He's put in our lives. Shouldn't we go after expending this extraordinarily priceless resource with every ounce of our wisdom and intention and gratitude?
So, yes, I've got loads to do, but now it's time to go watch our son play golf. Granted, I feel sick with nervousness the whole time and assume I'm going to drop dead of a heart attack while following him...but I'm handing that to God and asking Him to renew my warped perspective and give me joy and gratitude in each moment. After all, as I shared in a blog last summer, I keep reminding myself of the acronym the Lord whispered to me: "Golf" can stand for Game Only, Lord Forever!
But can I also share something I read recently in a book by Shauna Niequist that has helped refocus my attitude towards time? As a young, frazzled, exhausted mother, Niequist met one day with a much older, wiser grandmother and asked her how on earth she seemed to have gotten everything done with such joy and excellence. And here was this woman's response: "It's not hard to decide what you want your life to be about. What's hard, is figuring out what you're willing to give up in order to do the things you really care about."
Bingo!
Shauna said she later sat down and wrote two lists: "Things I do" and "Things I don't do." She said the first list was easy--her priorities were her faith in Christ, her marriage, her son, her group of friends, and cooking meals for friends (as this is something that joyfully feeds her soul). But making the list for "Things I don't do" was far harder--because, let's face it, don't we all want to do everything well?
That Proverbs 31 woman sometimes haunts my dreams, because she makes me feel so inadequate. I should be able to grow all our own vegetables, cook Martha Stewart-worthy meals, sew all those missing buttons, hem all those clothes and iron all those khakis before 8:00 a.m...not to mention have a spotless house with no clutter, never miss a friend's birthday, volunteer regularly in all our children's schools....all the while spending plenty of quality time with my Savior, encouraging and loving my husband and children, and...oh good grief, I'm exhausted just thinking about it.
So here's the thing. I've finally decided that I'm putting away my childish dream of doing it all and doing it perfectly. Nope, never gonna happen. Our endless quest for 360 degree perfection accomplishes one thing--destroys relationships. Something has to give...and let's choose to cast aside the relentless striving and instead seek to use our time loving and living to God's glory and with His priorities.
That means, for instance, that I'm going to stop worrying about the fact that I'm a crummy, lazy gardener. Yes, I love beautiful yards...but not enough to put it on my "Things I do list." Not when I have only limited time for gardening in this season of my life and it's simply not one of passions. Doesn't feed my soul. I really apologize if this eyesore of our yard drives others crazy...but time is priceless and there are husbands and children and friends to love and other priorities to pursue right now.
I won't go into the specifics of what needs to go on each list, because it's different for everyone..and it may change in different seasons of life. I never could have helped teach a women's Bible study when all our children were younger and all at home. Some people can do this, but I lacked the organizational skills to keep that many balls up in the air. But now, in this season of life, God has allowed me the time to pursue this glorious privilege. Thank You, Father! So I challenge you to really think about this and ask God: "what things do I do" and, especially, "what things don't I do" in this season of my life. Because He's given you this one awfully brief dance on this planet--don't you want to be using these days and hours and minutes the way your Creator knows is best for you? We've got eternity in heaven to do all that other stuff.
Okay, time to shut up...you haven't got all day to read this! Time to get busy loving, living, and rejoicing in the gift of this day.
To God--the Author, Creator, and Sustainer of time--be all the glory.
Lord, can't we make a little agreement to freeze time and all our children for say, 5 to 10 years?
I think I know the answer to that question...so instead, I join King David with the prayer, "Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom." (Ps.90:12)
But here's what I've been thinking a lot about lately--time is a limited and precious resource. Duh, you say? But still, how often do we treat lots of other far less important and expendable things as more valuable than the brief time God gives us on this planet? I try not to go out and throw $20 bills all over the ground to be blown about in the wind. I make an effort not to ruin our children's best clothes when I'm doing laundry (sometimes I fail in this endeavor--a size large Broughton golf jacket recently became a small. sigh). I valiantly strive not to back our suburban into walls or mailboxes (again, not always with success).
Yet how often do I throw away and waste time as if I have an infinite supply of it? Sure, we have eternity in heaven...but while our feet trod the dust of this earth, we have a limited amount of time and energy to do what God's called us to do and to love Him and the people He's put in our lives. Shouldn't we go after expending this extraordinarily priceless resource with every ounce of our wisdom and intention and gratitude?
So, yes, I've got loads to do, but now it's time to go watch our son play golf. Granted, I feel sick with nervousness the whole time and assume I'm going to drop dead of a heart attack while following him...but I'm handing that to God and asking Him to renew my warped perspective and give me joy and gratitude in each moment. After all, as I shared in a blog last summer, I keep reminding myself of the acronym the Lord whispered to me: "Golf" can stand for Game Only, Lord Forever!
But can I also share something I read recently in a book by Shauna Niequist that has helped refocus my attitude towards time? As a young, frazzled, exhausted mother, Niequist met one day with a much older, wiser grandmother and asked her how on earth she seemed to have gotten everything done with such joy and excellence. And here was this woman's response: "It's not hard to decide what you want your life to be about. What's hard, is figuring out what you're willing to give up in order to do the things you really care about."
Bingo!
Shauna said she later sat down and wrote two lists: "Things I do" and "Things I don't do." She said the first list was easy--her priorities were her faith in Christ, her marriage, her son, her group of friends, and cooking meals for friends (as this is something that joyfully feeds her soul). But making the list for "Things I don't do" was far harder--because, let's face it, don't we all want to do everything well?
That Proverbs 31 woman sometimes haunts my dreams, because she makes me feel so inadequate. I should be able to grow all our own vegetables, cook Martha Stewart-worthy meals, sew all those missing buttons, hem all those clothes and iron all those khakis before 8:00 a.m...not to mention have a spotless house with no clutter, never miss a friend's birthday, volunteer regularly in all our children's schools....all the while spending plenty of quality time with my Savior, encouraging and loving my husband and children, and...oh good grief, I'm exhausted just thinking about it.
So here's the thing. I've finally decided that I'm putting away my childish dream of doing it all and doing it perfectly. Nope, never gonna happen. Our endless quest for 360 degree perfection accomplishes one thing--destroys relationships. Something has to give...and let's choose to cast aside the relentless striving and instead seek to use our time loving and living to God's glory and with His priorities.
That means, for instance, that I'm going to stop worrying about the fact that I'm a crummy, lazy gardener. Yes, I love beautiful yards...but not enough to put it on my "Things I do list." Not when I have only limited time for gardening in this season of my life and it's simply not one of passions. Doesn't feed my soul. I really apologize if this eyesore of our yard drives others crazy...but time is priceless and there are husbands and children and friends to love and other priorities to pursue right now.
I won't go into the specifics of what needs to go on each list, because it's different for everyone..and it may change in different seasons of life. I never could have helped teach a women's Bible study when all our children were younger and all at home. Some people can do this, but I lacked the organizational skills to keep that many balls up in the air. But now, in this season of life, God has allowed me the time to pursue this glorious privilege. Thank You, Father! So I challenge you to really think about this and ask God: "what things do I do" and, especially, "what things don't I do" in this season of my life. Because He's given you this one awfully brief dance on this planet--don't you want to be using these days and hours and minutes the way your Creator knows is best for you? We've got eternity in heaven to do all that other stuff.
Okay, time to shut up...you haven't got all day to read this! Time to get busy loving, living, and rejoicing in the gift of this day.
To God--the Author, Creator, and Sustainer of time--be all the glory.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
The gift of laughter!
One of my all-time favorite verses: "The joy of the Lord is your strength." (Neh.8:10)
Then, of course, there's "Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say rejoice!" (Phil.4:4)
Or perhaps "In Your presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore." (Ps.16:11)
Thank You Lord for Your indomitable JOY! Thank You for Your gifts of laughter and light-heartedness and mirth. What treasures God gave us in a good old-fashioned sense of humor! There's not a doubt in my mind that Jesus laughed louder and deeper and stronger than any other who ever lived--for He was a man of joy. In the midst of great sorrow and strain, despite the horrific weight of all that He carried and knew, He was anointed, we are told, with the oil of joy. (Heb.1:9)
He is the God who created puppies and kittens and babies and giggles and bumble bees. Just a few minutes ago, I laughed out loud watching Bingley. He was utterly transfixed by the erratic flight of some kind of flying bug...and his persistent (but thankfully fruitless) attempts to snap his jaw shut on this mysterious prey! What a Lord who would create such hilarious beauty!
Today, my family has been actively and enthusiastically trying to fool one another with various April Fool's pranks. My brother-in-law, Pat, has long been the king of April Fool's. He "got" my parents more times than I can count. Not sure if he was supremely courageous...or foolish. Pat's gotten me many a time as well.
But this year, well, it was my brother, Rich, who trumped us all. Yep, despite the fact that we're all on high alert after long years of getting bamboozled every April 1st, nonetheless, one of my siblings inevitably somehow manages to come up with some wild scheme that fools us yet again! Even via email! Good night.
And after grumbling a bit...you laugh uproariously...and rejoice in the gift of laughter and fun and joy. Thank You, Lord!
Which all brings me to one of my favorite writers--G.K.Chesterton (who, in addition to loving the Lord, had a brilliant mind and an incredibly sharp and hilarious wit). He wrote some musings on Jesus and joy that I have long loved. So here they are. Enjoy!--
"Joy, which was the small publicity of the Pagan, is the gigantic secret of the Christian. And as I close this chaotic volume [Orthodoxy], I open again the strange small book from which all Christianity came; and I am again haunted by a kind of confirmation. This tremendous figure which fills the Gospels towers in this respect, as in every other, above all the thinkers who ever thought themselves tall. His pathos was natural, almost casual. The Stoics, ancient and modern, were proud, proud of concealing their tears. He never concealed His tears; He showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of His native city. Yet He concealed something...Solemn Supermen and Imperial Diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger. He never restrained His anger. He flung furniture down from the steps of the Temple and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell. Yet He restrained something...I say it with reverence--there was in that shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. There was something that He hid from all men when He went up a mountain to pray. There was something that He covered constantly by abrupt silence or impetuous isolation. There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth, and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth.”
I agree!
You know, sometimes in the nitty gritty of life, in the challenges, in the hard places and dark corners, we forget, don't we? We forget His gift of joy...so we have to stop looking down. Stop looking around. And start looking up...and laughing. Because our Savior is the Author and Sustainer of Joy. And joy births laughter and mirth.
The Lord who created the heavens...also crafted a sense of humor...and I daresay it's one of His jewels. Don't you bet heaven will be filled not only with rejoicing and worship and wonder and glory...but also laughter? Joyous, Jesus-centered laughter. Yes!
Oh, by the way, if there's April Fool's up there...watch out for Pat.
To God be the glory.
Then, of course, there's "Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say rejoice!" (Phil.4:4)
Or perhaps "In Your presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore." (Ps.16:11)
Thank You Lord for Your indomitable JOY! Thank You for Your gifts of laughter and light-heartedness and mirth. What treasures God gave us in a good old-fashioned sense of humor! There's not a doubt in my mind that Jesus laughed louder and deeper and stronger than any other who ever lived--for He was a man of joy. In the midst of great sorrow and strain, despite the horrific weight of all that He carried and knew, He was anointed, we are told, with the oil of joy. (Heb.1:9)
He is the God who created puppies and kittens and babies and giggles and bumble bees. Just a few minutes ago, I laughed out loud watching Bingley. He was utterly transfixed by the erratic flight of some kind of flying bug...and his persistent (but thankfully fruitless) attempts to snap his jaw shut on this mysterious prey! What a Lord who would create such hilarious beauty!
Today, my family has been actively and enthusiastically trying to fool one another with various April Fool's pranks. My brother-in-law, Pat, has long been the king of April Fool's. He "got" my parents more times than I can count. Not sure if he was supremely courageous...or foolish. Pat's gotten me many a time as well.
But this year, well, it was my brother, Rich, who trumped us all. Yep, despite the fact that we're all on high alert after long years of getting bamboozled every April 1st, nonetheless, one of my siblings inevitably somehow manages to come up with some wild scheme that fools us yet again! Even via email! Good night.
And after grumbling a bit...you laugh uproariously...and rejoice in the gift of laughter and fun and joy. Thank You, Lord!
Which all brings me to one of my favorite writers--G.K.Chesterton (who, in addition to loving the Lord, had a brilliant mind and an incredibly sharp and hilarious wit). He wrote some musings on Jesus and joy that I have long loved. So here they are. Enjoy!--
"Joy, which was the small publicity of the Pagan, is the gigantic secret of the Christian. And as I close this chaotic volume [Orthodoxy], I open again the strange small book from which all Christianity came; and I am again haunted by a kind of confirmation. This tremendous figure which fills the Gospels towers in this respect, as in every other, above all the thinkers who ever thought themselves tall. His pathos was natural, almost casual. The Stoics, ancient and modern, were proud, proud of concealing their tears. He never concealed His tears; He showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of His native city. Yet He concealed something...Solemn Supermen and Imperial Diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger. He never restrained His anger. He flung furniture down from the steps of the Temple and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell. Yet He restrained something...I say it with reverence--there was in that shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. There was something that He hid from all men when He went up a mountain to pray. There was something that He covered constantly by abrupt silence or impetuous isolation. There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth, and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth.”
I agree!
You know, sometimes in the nitty gritty of life, in the challenges, in the hard places and dark corners, we forget, don't we? We forget His gift of joy...so we have to stop looking down. Stop looking around. And start looking up...and laughing. Because our Savior is the Author and Sustainer of Joy. And joy births laughter and mirth.
The Lord who created the heavens...also crafted a sense of humor...and I daresay it's one of His jewels. Don't you bet heaven will be filled not only with rejoicing and worship and wonder and glory...but also laughter? Joyous, Jesus-centered laughter. Yes!
Oh, by the way, if there's April Fool's up there...watch out for Pat.
To God be the glory.
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