- Read all the Pulitzer Novels (this is ambitious--we'll see how many I get read.)
- Read 10 Christian Classics
- Finish four baby blankets
- Learn to purl and some other fancy pants knitting maneuvers
- Find creative ways to save money
- Take more intentional pictures ( you realize I've been purposing to do this for--oh, YEARS)
- C25K (again, a long time saying I am going to do this. No judging)
- Sketch 15 minutes a day
- Watch AFI's Top 100 Movies (again - ambitious, and I don't plan to finish, but I'll start)
- Grow an herb garden
- Read 5 travel books
- Make my own bread
- Cook with my girls
4.29.2010
Thursday Thirteen - Thirteen Things to Do this Summer
Limping
I identify immensely with Jacob in the Old Testament. I used to think about writing a book about surviving cancer and call it Wresting with Angels. Maybe I will still write one, maybe it will be about cancer (though I think not), but back to Jacob and angels.
Anyone who's done any reading in Genesis knows that Jacob's got some issues. He lies. He's a blessing thief. He doesn't trust people (because he knows they lie). He loves one wife over another. His love can be bought with mandrake roots. He's got more wives and concubines and kids than he knows what to do with. The man's got some sin issues. You know what, me too. We could go into them here, but if you know me at all, you know what they are. If you don't, we'll talk. It won't take very long.
We have another thing in common: we wrestle with God.
I'd love to say that faith came easily to me. I do stand firm in what I know and believe, but I tend to get dragged there, wrestling the entire way.
The funny thing about the story of Jacob is that it gives no reason that this wrestling match started, simply that Jacob was alone when the wrestling match began, and that it lasted long..through the night until daybreak. It ended with a new name, a blessing and a limp.
Lately I have been wrestling with God over events in my life. He is drawing me to forgiveness and release, and I am fighting it. Anger is easier, easier than being uncomfortable, easier than creating new patterns and habits, easier than becoming vulnerable, easier than risking being hurt again. We're wrestling, because God is telling me that grace and forgiveness will be my new name, but that the pain, discomfort, vulnerability will be part of the new ministry that He has for me.
We all know that Jacob didn't let go until he received the blessing, what we sometimes overlook is that ever after Jacob, now Israel, walked with a limp.
Anyone who's done any reading in Genesis knows that Jacob's got some issues. He lies. He's a blessing thief. He doesn't trust people (because he knows they lie). He loves one wife over another. His love can be bought with mandrake roots. He's got more wives and concubines and kids than he knows what to do with. The man's got some sin issues. You know what, me too. We could go into them here, but if you know me at all, you know what they are. If you don't, we'll talk. It won't take very long.
We have another thing in common: we wrestle with God.
I'd love to say that faith came easily to me. I do stand firm in what I know and believe, but I tend to get dragged there, wrestling the entire way.
The funny thing about the story of Jacob is that it gives no reason that this wrestling match started, simply that Jacob was alone when the wrestling match began, and that it lasted long..through the night until daybreak. It ended with a new name, a blessing and a limp.
Lately I have been wrestling with God over events in my life. He is drawing me to forgiveness and release, and I am fighting it. Anger is easier, easier than being uncomfortable, easier than creating new patterns and habits, easier than becoming vulnerable, easier than risking being hurt again. We're wrestling, because God is telling me that grace and forgiveness will be my new name, but that the pain, discomfort, vulnerability will be part of the new ministry that He has for me.
We all know that Jacob didn't let go until he received the blessing, what we sometimes overlook is that ever after Jacob, now Israel, walked with a limp.
4.26.2010
Numbers
Hunky and I are crunching numbers lately. It is a blessing to have been part of an exploding church not once, but twice in a lifetime. The funny thing about church is that everyone says it's not about numbers, and it isn't for the most part, but we still seem to always be playing the numbers game: seats, parking, staff, classes, small groups, budgets, support, baptisms, discipleship. We're always counting something. Not that numbers are bad in and of themselves. They are our means of measure, a way to quantify money in the bank or seats full on a Sunday.
When we were called to Georgia, we were honored to be called to new, beautiful building, built with an eye to filling it sometime in the future. God is beyond good, and it has filled faster than anyone dared to hope or imagine, and again, numbers dictate changes, adjustments, balancing, and sacrifice. Being called here, has not been without its changes, a pay cut, a house in Florida we can't seem to give away, now in the last stages of foreclosure, two cars approaching or well into six-figure mileage in a town that is not mileage friendly, to say the least. These are numbers we also stop to consider, to balance. How much sacrifice? How far a leap of faith? How many loaves? How much blessing?
It is hard to know when to count and when to leap. There are moments in time when God demands a strict account (He named an entire book after the process); there are moments when counting is a cause for punishment, a sign of a lack of faith. Number crunching - a maddening, mind boggling, faith growing, faith quenching process.
And so I count the things that truly count:
36. fresh cut grass
37. the satisfaction of a job well done
38. the possibility of creating something new
39. mirrors that accurately reflect the image of whose we are
40. family dinner
41. driving fast with the windows down
42. hunky playing guitar
43. anticipating greater things
44. beautiful blue-eyed baby boys on a Sunday morning
45. prayers whispered for a friend
46. afternoon phone calls with my Mom
47. Willie Nelson on the porch in the evening
48. plumped up pillows waiting for me to rest against them in the bed
49. holding hunky's hand in church
50. making plans for summer
51. Anticipating a week alone with my handsome man
52. home made ice cream
53. the cardinal that flirts with me
54. painted toe nails
55. walking my dog beneath the full moon
When we were called to Georgia, we were honored to be called to new, beautiful building, built with an eye to filling it sometime in the future. God is beyond good, and it has filled faster than anyone dared to hope or imagine, and again, numbers dictate changes, adjustments, balancing, and sacrifice. Being called here, has not been without its changes, a pay cut, a house in Florida we can't seem to give away, now in the last stages of foreclosure, two cars approaching or well into six-figure mileage in a town that is not mileage friendly, to say the least. These are numbers we also stop to consider, to balance. How much sacrifice? How far a leap of faith? How many loaves? How much blessing?
It is hard to know when to count and when to leap. There are moments in time when God demands a strict account (He named an entire book after the process); there are moments when counting is a cause for punishment, a sign of a lack of faith. Number crunching - a maddening, mind boggling, faith growing, faith quenching process.
And so I count the things that truly count:
36. fresh cut grass
37. the satisfaction of a job well done
38. the possibility of creating something new
39. mirrors that accurately reflect the image of whose we are
40. family dinner
41. driving fast with the windows down
42. hunky playing guitar
43. anticipating greater things
44. beautiful blue-eyed baby boys on a Sunday morning
45. prayers whispered for a friend
46. afternoon phone calls with my Mom
47. Willie Nelson on the porch in the evening
48. plumped up pillows waiting for me to rest against them in the bed
49. holding hunky's hand in church
50. making plans for summer
51. Anticipating a week alone with my handsome man
52. home made ice cream
53. the cardinal that flirts with me
54. painted toe nails
55. walking my dog beneath the full moon
4.25.2010
Brass Mirrors
"We are not our sins. We are not what other people have done to us"
~Craig Groeschel
They made the bronze basin and its bronze stand from the mirrors of the women who served at the entrance to the tent of meeting. ~Exodus 38:8
One of the things I have been praying recently is that God show me something new every time I sit down to read His word. Reading scripture in broad strokes as I have been lately means that I need to be especially tuned in, and not simply reading to get it done. God has been faithful and has served me with details and messages that are for me where I am today.
To begin with, I have been reading Craig Groeschel's Christian Atheist (when I started it I had toes). In it, he made the statement I quoted above. It's not terribly new or profound, but it made me realize something, while I have always been able to let go of sin and allow grace to be what defines me, the last several months, I have lost sight of grace and allowed what was done to me to define me. Labels like unloved, unworthy, dangerous, harmful to the kingdom, some of these labels spoken, some unspoken have haunted me. I have approached people and situations as though they are true. I am not what has been done to me. For too long I have let Satan's lies instead of God's word define me.
Just in case I wasn't paying close attention to that word from God, He brought Exodus 38:8 (above) to my attention as well. In reading about the gifts given for the construction of the tabernacle, we find that literally tons of gold, silver, brass, jewels, linen, and expensive threads were freely given, but only one gift is specifically mentioned: brass mirrors. Intrigued, I did a bit research and learned that in biblical times, mirrors were a big deal. They were not made of glass, but brass or another reflective surface, and were almost exclusively the property of the richest and most powerful people. Likely, these mirrors were acquired as part of the plunder that the Israelites were given as they left Egypt. Doubtless, they were precious items to these women and the sacrifice was a dear one.
But back to the mirrors, I don't know if you've ever paid attention to your reflection in any surface except a modern mirror, but if you have you will notice that even the most highly reflective surface in any other medium, gives a person a distorted view of himself. Even brass, at it's most smoothly beaten and highly polished, will give an off shade, imperfect view. Over time, the surface will become scratched, the metal tarnished, and the reflection resembles even less, the reality of the person gazing in the mirror. It is the way we so often see ourselves; the way I most definitely have been viewing myself.
God is so cool. He took these imperfect reflectors of our vanities, and He made them into something Holy. The bronze basin that these mirrors became held the water with which the Levites and the Israelites (while they were still allowed in the tent of meeting) would symbolically cleanse themselves before coming close to God's presence. These ritual washing symbolized a return to purity much like the state Adam and Eve were in the garden before sin entered the world. Instead of impure reflections, the brass now returned men and women to their most pure state: blameless before a Holy God.
And I? Well, I also must sacrifice this tainted view of who I am and allow God to wash me, to name me: chosen, loved, desired, known, created for a purpose, a completed good work, covered, cleansed, holy. I am not what I have been named. I am God's. Selah! God has loved me with an everlasting love. Be still and know the Truth of it.
Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely. 1 Cor. 13:12
~Craig Groeschel
They made the bronze basin and its bronze stand from the mirrors of the women who served at the entrance to the tent of meeting. ~Exodus 38:8
One of the things I have been praying recently is that God show me something new every time I sit down to read His word. Reading scripture in broad strokes as I have been lately means that I need to be especially tuned in, and not simply reading to get it done. God has been faithful and has served me with details and messages that are for me where I am today.
To begin with, I have been reading Craig Groeschel's Christian Atheist (when I started it I had toes). In it, he made the statement I quoted above. It's not terribly new or profound, but it made me realize something, while I have always been able to let go of sin and allow grace to be what defines me, the last several months, I have lost sight of grace and allowed what was done to me to define me. Labels like unloved, unworthy, dangerous, harmful to the kingdom, some of these labels spoken, some unspoken have haunted me. I have approached people and situations as though they are true. I am not what has been done to me. For too long I have let Satan's lies instead of God's word define me.
Just in case I wasn't paying close attention to that word from God, He brought Exodus 38:8 (above) to my attention as well. In reading about the gifts given for the construction of the tabernacle, we find that literally tons of gold, silver, brass, jewels, linen, and expensive threads were freely given, but only one gift is specifically mentioned: brass mirrors. Intrigued, I did a bit research and learned that in biblical times, mirrors were a big deal. They were not made of glass, but brass or another reflective surface, and were almost exclusively the property of the richest and most powerful people. Likely, these mirrors were acquired as part of the plunder that the Israelites were given as they left Egypt. Doubtless, they were precious items to these women and the sacrifice was a dear one.
But back to the mirrors, I don't know if you've ever paid attention to your reflection in any surface except a modern mirror, but if you have you will notice that even the most highly reflective surface in any other medium, gives a person a distorted view of himself. Even brass, at it's most smoothly beaten and highly polished, will give an off shade, imperfect view. Over time, the surface will become scratched, the metal tarnished, and the reflection resembles even less, the reality of the person gazing in the mirror. It is the way we so often see ourselves; the way I most definitely have been viewing myself.
God is so cool. He took these imperfect reflectors of our vanities, and He made them into something Holy. The bronze basin that these mirrors became held the water with which the Levites and the Israelites (while they were still allowed in the tent of meeting) would symbolically cleanse themselves before coming close to God's presence. These ritual washing symbolized a return to purity much like the state Adam and Eve were in the garden before sin entered the world. Instead of impure reflections, the brass now returned men and women to their most pure state: blameless before a Holy God.
And I? Well, I also must sacrifice this tainted view of who I am and allow God to wash me, to name me: chosen, loved, desired, known, created for a purpose, a completed good work, covered, cleansed, holy. I am not what I have been named. I am God's. Selah! God has loved me with an everlasting love. Be still and know the Truth of it.
Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely. 1 Cor. 13:12
4.23.2010
Sabbath Thoughts
Sabbath has been a concept that has intrigued me for some years. Often glossed over as some of that “Old Testament law nonsense.” A closer reading will show us that, while certainly a part of the law, Sabbath predates the law, by at least fifteen hundred years, probably longer since we have no real information how long Adam and Eve walked in the garden before the fall. On the seventh day of the world’s existence, in fact, God instituted Sabbath. He brought it into a world that was perfect and untainted by sin where a man and a woman walked naked with God in the cool of the evening, and it makes me wonder, what need had these for Sabbath whose very lives rested moment by moment in the bodily form of Elohim?
It’s mystifying to me.
It also makes me see Sabbath in an entirely new light, if perfect people in a perfect world in God’s perfect presence needed a Sabbath rest, how much am I robbing myself, my family and most importantly my Lord by not enjoying His assigned day off ?
The more I think about, ponder and pray over this mystery of Sabbath, the more I come to realize how much we have cheated it of all meaning. It began with the Israelites looking for manna on the Sabbath as though God wouldn’t be faithful to His promise, to the pharisees who decided God wasn’t enough to make the Sabbath holy and so added some forty or more rules regarding and restricting Sabbath behavior. Then at some point the church got ahold of it and stripped it further by making it a day of solemn reverence wherein laughter or smiling of any kind was forbidden. Eventually, Christianity threw it over altogether as just one more rule that grace was sufficient to cover thus negating the need to observe it in any way at all.
I wonder if God looked at His wonderful gift, now dirty, chained and forgotten in the distant reaches of our most secret closet and grieved?
Having spent some years studying and considering Sabbath, I find that I too fall guilty of trying to make it more burden than gift, because what I believe, in the end, is that what God gave and intended was just this: a day for us to rest.
Isn’t it funny how we look at the simplest concept and make it more difficult, more complicated, more burdensome than it was ever intended to be? Sabbath, at the heart of it, as it seems all things are that are from God, was given to us, for us to simply enjoy. Yes, He made a specific day for it with the Israelites, first because He knew their rebellious hearts (As mine is), secondly because it is so much easier to take a day off when everyone you know is also taking the day off (As I am sure you have noticed anytime you may have taken a day and the phone rings, and the email comes in, and just these few things have to be done for work or school or….you see what I am saying).
Why is it so hard for us to pick a day (for my family it is normally Friday, but there are times it changes) and just unplug and enjoy ourselves? Is it because we believe we are too important to remove ourselves from the busyness of living for a day, or do we simply not believe that God is the center rather than us? As we are all individuals, the way we Sabbath will be very different. Some will read, some play music, some draw, some get together with friends, play board games, explore nature, go to the beach, make homemade ice cream, simply sit and contemplate…the possibilities are endless. The only way to spoil Sabbath is to not enjoy it, and to fail to show with your life that you trust God to handle the details for just one day of the week (when truth be told, He’s handling every moment of every day, and we cannot even draw our next breath without His provision).
I do not believe that keeping Sabbath makes me more holy, more saved, or a “better Christian” (please let’s not be keeping qualifying details). I do believe it makes me more relaxed, more in tune and more appreciative of all the amazing pleasures that God has provided for each of us. When I slow down just for a time, I find that on other days I am more focused. Ironically, the weeks when I plan for and observe Sabbath are more productive as a whole than those I don’t. Time on God’s economy, like money on God’s economy, doesn’t make sense. He is able to multiply my time when I give Him what He asks of mine. Although I can’t explain it, I don’t have to try to be more mindful of God on the Sabbath. By changing my pace and routine, I simply am more mindful of God. My soul rests in Him while my body rests from the world.
It’s a gift, a gift, a gift, with nothing in it for God, who does not need to rest, and everything in it for His people who desperately do. Like a parent who delights in giving their children exactly what they desire, so He delights in giving us this day. And like a child who anticipates Christmas morning and all the gifts it contains, I find my heart looking forward to Sabbath and all the ways that I can enjoy it.
By the seventh day
God had finished his work.
On the seventh day
he rested from all his work.
God blessed the seventh day.
He made it a Holy Day
Because on that day he rested from his work,
all the creating God had done.
It’s mystifying to me.
It also makes me see Sabbath in an entirely new light, if perfect people in a perfect world in God’s perfect presence needed a Sabbath rest, how much am I robbing myself, my family and most importantly my Lord by not enjoying His assigned day off ?
The more I think about, ponder and pray over this mystery of Sabbath, the more I come to realize how much we have cheated it of all meaning. It began with the Israelites looking for manna on the Sabbath as though God wouldn’t be faithful to His promise, to the pharisees who decided God wasn’t enough to make the Sabbath holy and so added some forty or more rules regarding and restricting Sabbath behavior. Then at some point the church got ahold of it and stripped it further by making it a day of solemn reverence wherein laughter or smiling of any kind was forbidden. Eventually, Christianity threw it over altogether as just one more rule that grace was sufficient to cover thus negating the need to observe it in any way at all.
I wonder if God looked at His wonderful gift, now dirty, chained and forgotten in the distant reaches of our most secret closet and grieved?
Having spent some years studying and considering Sabbath, I find that I too fall guilty of trying to make it more burden than gift, because what I believe, in the end, is that what God gave and intended was just this: a day for us to rest.
Isn’t it funny how we look at the simplest concept and make it more difficult, more complicated, more burdensome than it was ever intended to be? Sabbath, at the heart of it, as it seems all things are that are from God, was given to us, for us to simply enjoy. Yes, He made a specific day for it with the Israelites, first because He knew their rebellious hearts (As mine is), secondly because it is so much easier to take a day off when everyone you know is also taking the day off (As I am sure you have noticed anytime you may have taken a day and the phone rings, and the email comes in, and just these few things have to be done for work or school or….you see what I am saying).
Why is it so hard for us to pick a day (for my family it is normally Friday, but there are times it changes) and just unplug and enjoy ourselves? Is it because we believe we are too important to remove ourselves from the busyness of living for a day, or do we simply not believe that God is the center rather than us? As we are all individuals, the way we Sabbath will be very different. Some will read, some play music, some draw, some get together with friends, play board games, explore nature, go to the beach, make homemade ice cream, simply sit and contemplate…the possibilities are endless. The only way to spoil Sabbath is to not enjoy it, and to fail to show with your life that you trust God to handle the details for just one day of the week (when truth be told, He’s handling every moment of every day, and we cannot even draw our next breath without His provision).
I do not believe that keeping Sabbath makes me more holy, more saved, or a “better Christian” (please let’s not be keeping qualifying details). I do believe it makes me more relaxed, more in tune and more appreciative of all the amazing pleasures that God has provided for each of us. When I slow down just for a time, I find that on other days I am more focused. Ironically, the weeks when I plan for and observe Sabbath are more productive as a whole than those I don’t. Time on God’s economy, like money on God’s economy, doesn’t make sense. He is able to multiply my time when I give Him what He asks of mine. Although I can’t explain it, I don’t have to try to be more mindful of God on the Sabbath. By changing my pace and routine, I simply am more mindful of God. My soul rests in Him while my body rests from the world.
It’s a gift, a gift, a gift, with nothing in it for God, who does not need to rest, and everything in it for His people who desperately do. Like a parent who delights in giving their children exactly what they desire, so He delights in giving us this day. And like a child who anticipates Christmas morning and all the gifts it contains, I find my heart looking forward to Sabbath and all the ways that I can enjoy it.
By the seventh day
God had finished his work.
On the seventh day
he rested from all his work.
God blessed the seventh day.
He made it a Holy Day
Because on that day he rested from his work,
all the creating God had done.
4.19.2010
Exodus
The girls and have recently been studying old testament history in school. It tickles me to hear them echo the same thoughts I have had, and the same words I have heard voiced in multiple old testament Bible studies, "Man those Israelites sure were a dumb, whiny bunch." Today, as I read through some of the wilderness stories in Exodus, I compared myself to the God's chosen people, and I fear, I don't fare well. The differences between me and that rag-tag group of whiny idolaters is only a few thousand years and a few thousand miles. Compare our hearts, and we are the same. Being delivered is a funny thing. For some reason we equate it with ease and rest. I don't think that is at all what God intends. Instead there is work to do, Kingdom work, at least until this earth is renewed. Being delivered from a bad situation, as we have been, doesn't mean we have "arrived." More often it simply means a change in location, a chance to start fresh and some serious labor. Rather than look back whining for the things that were, which probably weren't as "better" as emotion would lead us to believe, rather I focus on God's amazing provision and his never ending power to turn bitter waters into a fresh, sweet stream. Grace can't change the past, and it won't tell the future. It's here in the present moment for those who would see it - ever sustaining, our daily portion of Manna in the wilderness. Always measuring out to just what we need.
16. Hands raised in silent applause as another brother is added to the Kingdom
17. Hands raised in worship as hearts and lips sing
18. watching my heart, my husband, fill his calling
19. beautiful, healthy children - mine and those of a dear friend
20. "monsters" that chase us only to sweep us up into tickles and giggles
21. the comfort of friends
22. love shared across our church families
23. holding the answers to many prayers in my arms
24. Baby bellies
25. azaleas everywhere
26. lightening bugs
27. yarn in my hands
28. sharing a musical and many memories with my girls
29. summer hair cuts
30. the perfect words at the perfect time
31. being loved as I am, not for the person I may one day be
32. sermons on my ipod
33. the honk of geese
34. dogwood blossoms
35. the gentle of rhythm of a balanced day
16. Hands raised in silent applause as another brother is added to the Kingdom
17. Hands raised in worship as hearts and lips sing
18. watching my heart, my husband, fill his calling
19. beautiful, healthy children - mine and those of a dear friend
20. "monsters" that chase us only to sweep us up into tickles and giggles
21. the comfort of friends
22. love shared across our church families
23. holding the answers to many prayers in my arms
24. Baby bellies
25. azaleas everywhere
26. lightening bugs
27. yarn in my hands
28. sharing a musical and many memories with my girls
29. summer hair cuts
30. the perfect words at the perfect time
31. being loved as I am, not for the person I may one day be
32. sermons on my ipod
33. the honk of geese
34. dogwood blossoms
35. the gentle of rhythm of a balanced day
4.15.2010
Harvest Time
Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Gal. 6:9
Sometimes a True word spoken at the perfect time can resonate for weeks to come. In the days, quickly rolling into weeks that have followed Arizona I have pondered these words many times, what they mean for me today, tomorrow and in the years to come. Ministry, where ever you do it, is hard work and sometimes fruit is slow in coming. Honestly speaking, the fruit never comes in as abundantly and as quickly as you would like. We're talking about saving the world here, it's truly never a "that's good enough" calling. Weariness can be a daily battle, a constant companion if we focus on the work and not on the harvest.
I know many pastors who encourage believers by speaking of time to come when God will make known to us all the people who were changed or affected by the ministry of our lives. This is a nice, pleasant thought and I don't have any theological disagreement with it. I am kind of in the camp that when we get to Heaven, nothing we did will matter at all in comparison to being in the very presence of God, but it's not something I am going to the mat over.
However in January, God gave us a little sneak preview that makes me think I could be wrong. As you may know, when we left Florida, it was without the opportunity to say goodbye to anyone if we wanted to keep our severance package. Although we asked, even pleaded for the opportunity to do so we were told that in six months no one would remember us anyway, and that we certainly weren't important enough to enough families of the church for our departure to merit any form of recognition. But God is good and as He is redeeming so many things for us in Georgia, He allowed those lies to be redeemed as well, because in January, we were given the opportunity, at last, to say goodbye.
I can tell you now, there are no words in human vocabulary that I know of to adequately describe what we were given that night. A dear friend graciously opened her home to all who wanted to come see us for the evening, and they came. Cars lined up and down her street, and every neighboring street within a block. At one time, I am pretty certain there were two hundred people inside her house, as well as people outside, in the yard, down the sidewalk and into the night. There was laughter, more hugs than I thought I had in me... and there were so,so many tears. I have experienced both love and appreciation in my life, but never before, and I question if ever again, will my heart, and the heart of the one I love ever be the sole focus of so much of either.
It was our harvest- of souls, of love, of lives, of friends, of ties that distance cannot sever- and it was, and is one of the most beautiful moments of my life.
I don't know, but I hope, that there will be more occasions in my future to see in such an undeniable way that the work we do transforms lives. I know in my heart it does, and there are and will always be glimpses of that as we continue to move ahead. I do believe that it was time for us to leave Florida, though leaving was like having my fingers broken to make me let go. I believe that there is such a harvest waiting here for those who are brave enough to enter the fields that it will be unlike anything we've ever been part of before. I feel it in my Spirit, and I've already been privileged to see small previews of greater things.
It will be the gift of the harvest that sustains me when I am tired, weak, weary and alone. I am blessed for the challenge to be a worker, and oh so grateful beyond words for one night given by God to show Himself to us.
Sometimes a True word spoken at the perfect time can resonate for weeks to come. In the days, quickly rolling into weeks that have followed Arizona I have pondered these words many times, what they mean for me today, tomorrow and in the years to come. Ministry, where ever you do it, is hard work and sometimes fruit is slow in coming. Honestly speaking, the fruit never comes in as abundantly and as quickly as you would like. We're talking about saving the world here, it's truly never a "that's good enough" calling. Weariness can be a daily battle, a constant companion if we focus on the work and not on the harvest.
I know many pastors who encourage believers by speaking of time to come when God will make known to us all the people who were changed or affected by the ministry of our lives. This is a nice, pleasant thought and I don't have any theological disagreement with it. I am kind of in the camp that when we get to Heaven, nothing we did will matter at all in comparison to being in the very presence of God, but it's not something I am going to the mat over.
However in January, God gave us a little sneak preview that makes me think I could be wrong. As you may know, when we left Florida, it was without the opportunity to say goodbye to anyone if we wanted to keep our severance package. Although we asked, even pleaded for the opportunity to do so we were told that in six months no one would remember us anyway, and that we certainly weren't important enough to enough families of the church for our departure to merit any form of recognition. But God is good and as He is redeeming so many things for us in Georgia, He allowed those lies to be redeemed as well, because in January, we were given the opportunity, at last, to say goodbye.
I can tell you now, there are no words in human vocabulary that I know of to adequately describe what we were given that night. A dear friend graciously opened her home to all who wanted to come see us for the evening, and they came. Cars lined up and down her street, and every neighboring street within a block. At one time, I am pretty certain there were two hundred people inside her house, as well as people outside, in the yard, down the sidewalk and into the night. There was laughter, more hugs than I thought I had in me... and there were so,so many tears. I have experienced both love and appreciation in my life, but never before, and I question if ever again, will my heart, and the heart of the one I love ever be the sole focus of so much of either.
It was our harvest- of souls, of love, of lives, of friends, of ties that distance cannot sever- and it was, and is one of the most beautiful moments of my life.
I don't know, but I hope, that there will be more occasions in my future to see in such an undeniable way that the work we do transforms lives. I know in my heart it does, and there are and will always be glimpses of that as we continue to move ahead. I do believe that it was time for us to leave Florida, though leaving was like having my fingers broken to make me let go. I believe that there is such a harvest waiting here for those who are brave enough to enter the fields that it will be unlike anything we've ever been part of before. I feel it in my Spirit, and I've already been privileged to see small previews of greater things.
It will be the gift of the harvest that sustains me when I am tired, weak, weary and alone. I am blessed for the challenge to be a worker, and oh so grateful beyond words for one night given by God to show Himself to us.
4.14.2010
4.13.2010
History Lessons
Some days the past seems closer than others, don't you think? All those moments you'd like to forget, you'd like everyone to forget; moments you'd like to do-over, do away with, not do at all. I, like everyone else, have many. It's been a few weeks of really facing the not-so-distant past. Long time friends in Arizona had many questions, much concern and an outpouring of love for us. It was the first time, really, that my life then and my life now have crossed over in such away. Generally, there is then, a very sudden and definitive break, and now. Dealing with my two realities at once has made me realize several ways that I have built walls, set boundaries and generally tried to protect myself since then. It has colored the lens of the way I see things. It has held people at arms length who deserve better. It has changed me in ways I do not care to be changed.
I have a history, some of it ugly, and it just doesn't matter in relation to what I am called to do here in this place.
This week I have had the privilege of hearing and hearing about some marvelous testimonies. As Northridge moves forward, God is moving in ways that defy explanation. My husband and I, for reasons only God in His heaven knows, have the extreme privilege of being plopped right down in the middle of all this holy and glorious chaos, and be part of a team that is forging boldly ahead. What I have failed to realize, to my detriment, is that this isn't a group of people who just started when we got here. They, too, have a history, and it is an amazing one. The little peeks and glimpses that I am starting to see are of great heart, years of service, and an incredible leadership vision to stop everything comfortable and do something completely new and very real. I am reminded again that I may not like the method, but the time and place of our arrival couldn't be more Divine, not for this congregation, but for us, my family and me. In my inner turmoil over the crossing of my realities where I fell short was not recognizing that this ministry isn't for one minute about where I came from. It's about where my new family has come from, and more importantly, where we are going together.
Some history lessons smart more than others. This isn't one that I will soon forget.
I have a history, some of it ugly, and it just doesn't matter in relation to what I am called to do here in this place.
This week I have had the privilege of hearing and hearing about some marvelous testimonies. As Northridge moves forward, God is moving in ways that defy explanation. My husband and I, for reasons only God in His heaven knows, have the extreme privilege of being plopped right down in the middle of all this holy and glorious chaos, and be part of a team that is forging boldly ahead. What I have failed to realize, to my detriment, is that this isn't a group of people who just started when we got here. They, too, have a history, and it is an amazing one. The little peeks and glimpses that I am starting to see are of great heart, years of service, and an incredible leadership vision to stop everything comfortable and do something completely new and very real. I am reminded again that I may not like the method, but the time and place of our arrival couldn't be more Divine, not for this congregation, but for us, my family and me. In my inner turmoil over the crossing of my realities where I fell short was not recognizing that this ministry isn't for one minute about where I came from. It's about where my new family has come from, and more importantly, where we are going together.
Some history lessons smart more than others. This isn't one that I will soon forget.
4.12.2010
Multitudes on Monday
If you haven't or aren't regularly reading Ann Voskamp, you really should stop wasting time here and go there. She sees God's hand in the world in a way I can only aspire to. Her heart is beautiful. She encourages me. Last week was a hard week, one of the hardest in a long time. I messed up, and my heart was lost in translation somewhere. Words are my blessing and my curse, my comfort and my ever-looming catastrophe. Demons from past months gnawed at me with sharp teeth, reminded, cursed, whispered, lurked. I awoke with a small and stunted hope for today and the week to come and Ann reminded me, "God doesn't ask me to be perfect; He asks me to praise." I cannot do anything perfectly, I can do only a few things well, but praise is something even I cannot bungle, and so I begin my list, one thousand things, and beyond.
1. My husband's eyes
2. his warm voice
3. his never ending love
4. a hammock on the back deck
5. dogwood trees
6. bird song
7. new mercies each day
8. the long twilight of summer
9. a glass of wine
10. the voices of my children..in the house, in the yard, in my heart
11. "Oh, How He Loves"
12. new vision
13. new excitement
14. encouragement from someone who's heard the worst about me - and didn't believe it
15. carrot souffle
4.11.2010
Confessions of a Reluctant Pastor's Wife
I'm fairly certain that I received the wrong superlative in high school. Instead of "Most Talented" I think I should have been voted "Least likely to be a Pastor's Wife" It isn't that I have anything against pastor's wives, some of my favorite people on this planet fill that role in ways I only dream of doing, it's that I feel so vastly underqualified to even begin to assume the position, always have. Every so often I get into an argument with God about it. You know how arguments with God go. I rant and rave and wave my fists, and stomp my feet and wail and gnash my teeth. If there were a script it would go like this:
"Really God? REALLY. Really. I know you don't make mistakes, but this, this is a mistake. It's not that I don't appreciate how much you think of me, but the fact of the matter is that I cannot do this.
(silence from Him)
God, maybe you don't remember but I am not qualified for this:
I'm not cut from the right cloth.
I wasn't raised in the church.
I'm too introverted.
I can't remember names.
Crowds make me insanely nervous.
I don't know how to make small talk and chat.
I make people angry and uncomfortable.
I'm not merciful.
I question authority.
I question motives.
I question lip service.
I question.
I am not mainstream.
Have you heard my language?
I'm irreverent.
I'm sarcastic.
I am not what people expect.
I have tattoos.
I have a nose ring.
Sometimes, my hair is pink.
Remember the part about making people uncomfortable?
I'm too transparent.
My expectations of people are far too high.
My expectations of myself are even higher.
I will mess up.
I will say the wrong thing.
I will say the right thing and no one will hear it the right way.
Did I mention that I make people angry--a lot?
When people hurt my husband, and in ministry that's inevitable,I will want to cause them physical harm.
I get angry.
I'm way too passionate.
I'm too honest with not enough grace.
I hate Christian fiction.
I'm too loud.
I'm not gifted in women's ministry.
or children's ministry.
I'm too flawed.
I'm too insecure.
I'm too uncomfortable.
I'm too impatient with people.
I'm afraid.
(Silence from heaven)
And one more thing God (this is my trump card from the last year of my life), all those things have to be true and not just hidden dark little secrets tucked under my heart, because they were spoken and used to hurt the person I love most in this world, and my family, and it made me ashamed of who I am, so flawed that my weaknesses became weapons. I can't do that again God -- not ever. It just goes to show that I'm not making these things up. They are real, and they are obviously true because other people see them too....
This is usually when God speaks up,
Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you were born, I set you apart for my Holy Purpose. I have loved you with an everlasting love. I have drawn you with loving kindness. I will build you back up again and you will dance with the joyful. Blessed are you when men hate you and exclude you from their society, and insult you, and spurn your very names as evil things. Do not become weary in doing good. You call on my name and those who call will rise on wings of eagles. You shall run and not be weary. You shall walk and not grow faint. I will make your feet like those of the deer. I will set you on high places. I will be your strong tower. Run to me, and I will keep you safe.
Jeremiah 1 and 35, Luke 6, Galatians 6, Habakkuk 3, Proverbs 18
"Really God? REALLY. Really. I know you don't make mistakes, but this, this is a mistake. It's not that I don't appreciate how much you think of me, but the fact of the matter is that I cannot do this.
(silence from Him)
God, maybe you don't remember but I am not qualified for this:
I'm not cut from the right cloth.
I wasn't raised in the church.
I'm too introverted.
I can't remember names.
Crowds make me insanely nervous.
I don't know how to make small talk and chat.
I make people angry and uncomfortable.
I'm not merciful.
I question authority.
I question motives.
I question lip service.
I question.
I am not mainstream.
Have you heard my language?
I'm irreverent.
I'm sarcastic.
I am not what people expect.
I have tattoos.
I have a nose ring.
Sometimes, my hair is pink.
Remember the part about making people uncomfortable?
I'm too transparent.
My expectations of people are far too high.
My expectations of myself are even higher.
I will mess up.
I will say the wrong thing.
I will say the right thing and no one will hear it the right way.
Did I mention that I make people angry--a lot?
When people hurt my husband, and in ministry that's inevitable,I will want to cause them physical harm.
I get angry.
I'm way too passionate.
I'm too honest with not enough grace.
I hate Christian fiction.
I'm too loud.
I'm not gifted in women's ministry.
or children's ministry.
I'm too flawed.
I'm too insecure.
I'm too uncomfortable.
I'm too impatient with people.
I'm afraid.
(Silence from heaven)
And one more thing God (this is my trump card from the last year of my life), all those things have to be true and not just hidden dark little secrets tucked under my heart, because they were spoken and used to hurt the person I love most in this world, and my family, and it made me ashamed of who I am, so flawed that my weaknesses became weapons. I can't do that again God -- not ever. It just goes to show that I'm not making these things up. They are real, and they are obviously true because other people see them too....
This is usually when God speaks up,
Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. Before you were born, I set you apart for my Holy Purpose. I have loved you with an everlasting love. I have drawn you with loving kindness. I will build you back up again and you will dance with the joyful. Blessed are you when men hate you and exclude you from their society, and insult you, and spurn your very names as evil things. Do not become weary in doing good. You call on my name and those who call will rise on wings of eagles. You shall run and not be weary. You shall walk and not grow faint. I will make your feet like those of the deer. I will set you on high places. I will be your strong tower. Run to me, and I will keep you safe.
Jeremiah 1 and 35, Luke 6, Galatians 6, Habakkuk 3, Proverbs 18
4.10.2010
In which I cry Uncle (but not Uncle Olaf) : Read-a-thon
Thirteen Hours.
Six Lemony Snicket books.
Four reading locations.
I could do more but my amazing hunky is home from a few days away.
Truthfully speaking, I like him more than books.
But it's been great fun, and I'll be back again in October.
5pm--Starting book 6 : Dewey's Read-a-Thon
The hammock is still working well for me, so I am going to hang there for a bit longer. I have completed the first five books of the Lemony Snicket series and stopped to do a little sing-a-longing with my girls who are watching My Fair Lady this afternoon.
Still enjoying Lemony and anxious to see what will happen in Book 6 with Duncan and Isadora, the Quagmire triplets (you'll have to read the series to figure that one out).
I haven't taken much time to read other blogs because I have been busy reading my books. I will save that for tonight and tomorrow afternoon when my book reading time is less concentrated.
I am enjoying the comments! Keep them coming!
(if you look closely you can see the lake between the slats of the deck. It's busy out there today)
Still enjoying Lemony and anxious to see what will happen in Book 6 with Duncan and Isadora, the Quagmire triplets (you'll have to read the series to figure that one out).
I haven't taken much time to read other blogs because I have been busy reading my books. I will save that for tonight and tomorrow afternoon when my book reading time is less concentrated.
I am enjoying the comments! Keep them coming!
Books 4 and 5/ Hour 4 and 5 and BREAKTIME: Dewey's Read-a-Thon
Today is a GORGEOUS day for sitting and reading (though I won't lie and say that yard work doesn't have some appeal with this weather.)
However, even on the best days life intrudes. A phone call to my mom, a few errands, a little kitchen housework and some lunch for my chicks.
Lemony Snicket #1-4 are complete. I have quotes to share but when I came in, I forgot to bring the book with me so maybe that will be for the next entry.
After I finish lunch I am moving to the hammock. HEAVEN!
2 hours - 2 books: Dewey's Read-a-thon #2
Fortunately for me, the Lemony Snicket books are a fast, entertaining read. Though the theme is dark, and sometimes violent, the idea that clever reasoning and siblings working together can change the outcome of a bad situation is enjoyable. Being a bookworm myself, I love when bookishness and intelligence are used as heroic traits.
It seems that this year has been a year for young adult literature for me. We have been passing around the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series here for the past month as we study ancient Greece. My youngest reminded me yesterday that while I read Inkheart I never followed up with Inkspell or Inkdeath, and apparently she finds the idea of an unfinished series akin to a mortal insult. So once I have finished my reading today, I assume I will move on to those two titles. Maybe this is the year to remember what it was like to sit for hours at a time reading a really good kid's story. Or maybe it's just time I lightened up a little.
Either way, it's definitely time to walk the dog, refresh the coffee and find a new location. Be back soon!
Next read: Lemony Snicket: The Wide Window
Completed: Lemony Snicket: The Bad Beginning
Lemony Snicket: The Reptile Room
It seems that this year has been a year for young adult literature for me. We have been passing around the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series here for the past month as we study ancient Greece. My youngest reminded me yesterday that while I read Inkheart I never followed up with Inkspell or Inkdeath, and apparently she finds the idea of an unfinished series akin to a mortal insult. So once I have finished my reading today, I assume I will move on to those two titles. Maybe this is the year to remember what it was like to sit for hours at a time reading a really good kid's story. Or maybe it's just time I lightened up a little.
Either way, it's definitely time to walk the dog, refresh the coffee and find a new location. Be back soon!
Next read: Lemony Snicket: The Wide Window
Completed: Lemony Snicket: The Bad Beginning
Lemony Snicket: The Reptile Room
Dewey's Read-a-thon Post #1
For many years I have wanted to participate in Dewey's read-a-thon but there were always other things to do, life was too busy, etc. etc. etc. This year the read-a-thon falls at a perfect time. The hubby + 1 child is absent, and I can actually take some time to read with some breaks to accomplish the few necessaries.
I decided to read something light and fun, that I have been waiting to read for some time: Lemony Snicket and a Series of Unfortunate Events. I checked out the first ten in the series of thirteen. If I run out of those, I certainly have plenty more around the house and in the Kindle.
I haven't really any other huge plans for the read-a-thon. There are a few spots that I will meander around between to enjoy my reading: my bed, the office recliner, the back porch (when it warms up a tad--brrrrrr). We have handy food at the ready following last night's soiree. The hunky and #1 Princess will be home shortly after 8pm and that will most likely be the end of my participation, as we will want some time and church responsibilities tomorrow will be calling, but it's still over twelve hours of reading.
I woke at 8 am and began The Bad Beginning. The word smith in me is loving the clever writing and the vocabulary non-sequiturs. The writing is wry, though not complicated and the characters are clever if a bit one dimensional, though I don't think that is accidental either. I've chuckled aloud more than once. Forty more pages or so will bring me to the end of the first book, and #2 sits right underneath it. Be back soon!
I decided to read something light and fun, that I have been waiting to read for some time: Lemony Snicket and a Series of Unfortunate Events. I checked out the first ten in the series of thirteen. If I run out of those, I certainly have plenty more around the house and in the Kindle.
I haven't really any other huge plans for the read-a-thon. There are a few spots that I will meander around between to enjoy my reading: my bed, the office recliner, the back porch (when it warms up a tad--brrrrrr). We have handy food at the ready following last night's soiree. The hunky and #1 Princess will be home shortly after 8pm and that will most likely be the end of my participation, as we will want some time and church responsibilities tomorrow will be calling, but it's still over twelve hours of reading.
I woke at 8 am and began The Bad Beginning. The word smith in me is loving the clever writing and the vocabulary non-sequiturs. The writing is wry, though not complicated and the characters are clever if a bit one dimensional, though I don't think that is accidental either. I've chuckled aloud more than once. Forty more pages or so will bring me to the end of the first book, and #2 sits right underneath it. Be back soon!
4.08.2010
Thursday Thirteen - Thirteen Memorable Arizona Moments
It is always hard to answer the question that is inevitably asked "Was it a fun time in Arizona?" Fun is not the adjective that I use to describe a mission trip very often. There are always fun moments - always, but fun implies "good for entertainment value" which is never the purpose of a mission trip. However there are days and weeks of memories that I am walking away with, good and hard. Here are a few:
1) Seeing a place I love with whole new eyes. Every year one of my favorite things is seeing the first timers reactions to the whole Arizona experience, from the scenery to the ministry. This time I got to experience that with almost every person out there. From Box Canyon to Dark Shadows neighborhood, every minute had the excitement of newness to it because so many saw it with fresh eyes. It's hard to lose wonder when you are surrounded by it.
2) Reuniting with friends in a place that is familiar and comfortable. After six months of all new and different, it was good to be able to talk with people with whom we have history in a place where I can find my way without my GPS. The last six months have been a grand adventure, but there is something to be said for the familiar (like cozy socks or your favorite jeans). Even when it's work, it's rest for your soul.
3) Box Canyon - pictures can't do it justice, and words can't describe it. It's just an absolutely incredible illustration of the power, majesty and providence of God. If I ever do make it to the Grand Canyon, you best say farewell before I leave. I'm fairly certain I will die an ecstatic death of awe while I am there.
4) Mighty to Save - there are moments in life that are pure raw worship. They aren't always with music, but music is where I, personally, most often find them. Leading worship Tuesday night in chapel I was witness to a room full of people with more backgrounds and experiences than I have words to write, let alone ability to relate to, and each of them sang loudly and fervently "My God is mighty to save! He is mighty to save!" with hope, with glorious abandon. I pray that that unashamed, unadulterated worship is something they carried home with them as well.
5) Marty's prayer and Ona's prayer following chapel. How beautiful it is to hear the common cry of the human heart voiced with new voices. Their prayers were beautiful, inspiring and inspired - they refreshed me.
6) BT and the elk. Oh, and BT's frolic in the snow. I almost hurt something laughing each time I think about it.
7) Individual time I got to spend with some members of the team. It is a privilege to be allowed to see the hearts of people seeking to draw closer to God. It is a bigger privilege to be allowed to be a small part of that. I'm grateful for the small windows of opportunity and excited to see spiritual relationships change and deepen.
8) DUDE! Georgia grows some tough women! I enjoyed watching them work circles around some of our young men. They went ready to work and work they did. Heck, they made me have to dig deeper and work harder, that doesn't happen often.
9) This moment that I got to watch from across the bus on Thursday. This little boy had an accident and was embarrassed and afraid. Katie helped him with dignity and gentle concern and loved him all the way home. It's not always easy to love a snotty urine soaked little boy-- but she did it. And it was beautiful, and Jesus love was preached through her actions that day.
10) Every year I'm simply speechless at the beauty of nature around the neighborhoods we visit, and the squalor and dirtiness within them. Even the simple act of picking up their trash is foreign to some of the children who get on the bus. May God bring them all His Hope.
11) Seeing pride in hard work well done. One of our jobs this year was digging a trench. It was "beast." Probably no one but those who wielded the pick axes and God Himself will ever know how much sweat and muscle and frustration went into that job, and certainly no one will notice it with pride or joy in the years to come (especially since the second half of the job was to fill the trench back in ), but to take pride in doing hard dirty work for the sake of someone else's ease is a lesson well learned. It's the beginning of a servant heart.
12) Each year there are those that surprise (in a good way) and those that disappoint. Some do both more than once, some more than once in the span of one hour. I'm grateful to be reminded that we all struggle and fall but that God has started a good work and is faithful to complete it. It's humbling to be witness to the potential men and women of God that can be glimpsed in the microcosm of the mission field.
13) Having my heart broken all over again by kids of every shade of skin. May I never become hardened and calloused to the fact that we are all sinners saved by grace with a great deal of Kingdom work to accomplish, in Arizona, in Georgia, and around the world before we attain holiness.
**It has come to my attention that yesterday's post was somewhat upsetting. I entertained simply taking the post down, but I don't think that accomplishes anything for the Kingdom and would make Satan pretty happy. I would simply ask that readers remember that if I didn't love your children, I wouldn't bother to be upset, I'd simply walk away from ministry entirely. I get tired. I get frustrated. We all do. But we're all in this place together to do one thing: change the world. It's because I love deeply that I am bothered, and that I do pray and cry and laugh with and work alongside others. I also pray that those who are upset would speak with me about it as fellow believers should do if they intend to work together. I can only be what I am: broken, imperfect, flawed but madly seeking God's own heart.**
1) Seeing a place I love with whole new eyes. Every year one of my favorite things is seeing the first timers reactions to the whole Arizona experience, from the scenery to the ministry. This time I got to experience that with almost every person out there. From Box Canyon to Dark Shadows neighborhood, every minute had the excitement of newness to it because so many saw it with fresh eyes. It's hard to lose wonder when you are surrounded by it.
2) Reuniting with friends in a place that is familiar and comfortable. After six months of all new and different, it was good to be able to talk with people with whom we have history in a place where I can find my way without my GPS. The last six months have been a grand adventure, but there is something to be said for the familiar (like cozy socks or your favorite jeans). Even when it's work, it's rest for your soul.
3) Box Canyon - pictures can't do it justice, and words can't describe it. It's just an absolutely incredible illustration of the power, majesty and providence of God. If I ever do make it to the Grand Canyon, you best say farewell before I leave. I'm fairly certain I will die an ecstatic death of awe while I am there.
4) Mighty to Save - there are moments in life that are pure raw worship. They aren't always with music, but music is where I, personally, most often find them. Leading worship Tuesday night in chapel I was witness to a room full of people with more backgrounds and experiences than I have words to write, let alone ability to relate to, and each of them sang loudly and fervently "My God is mighty to save! He is mighty to save!" with hope, with glorious abandon. I pray that that unashamed, unadulterated worship is something they carried home with them as well.
5) Marty's prayer and Ona's prayer following chapel. How beautiful it is to hear the common cry of the human heart voiced with new voices. Their prayers were beautiful, inspiring and inspired - they refreshed me.
6) BT and the elk. Oh, and BT's frolic in the snow. I almost hurt something laughing each time I think about it.
7) Individual time I got to spend with some members of the team. It is a privilege to be allowed to see the hearts of people seeking to draw closer to God. It is a bigger privilege to be allowed to be a small part of that. I'm grateful for the small windows of opportunity and excited to see spiritual relationships change and deepen.
8) DUDE! Georgia grows some tough women! I enjoyed watching them work circles around some of our young men. They went ready to work and work they did. Heck, they made me have to dig deeper and work harder, that doesn't happen often.
10) Every year I'm simply speechless at the beauty of nature around the neighborhoods we visit, and the squalor and dirtiness within them. Even the simple act of picking up their trash is foreign to some of the children who get on the bus. May God bring them all His Hope.
11) Seeing pride in hard work well done. One of our jobs this year was digging a trench. It was "beast." Probably no one but those who wielded the pick axes and God Himself will ever know how much sweat and muscle and frustration went into that job, and certainly no one will notice it with pride or joy in the years to come (especially since the second half of the job was to fill the trench back in ), but to take pride in doing hard dirty work for the sake of someone else's ease is a lesson well learned. It's the beginning of a servant heart.
12) Each year there are those that surprise (in a good way) and those that disappoint. Some do both more than once, some more than once in the span of one hour. I'm grateful to be reminded that we all struggle and fall but that God has started a good work and is faithful to complete it. It's humbling to be witness to the potential men and women of God that can be glimpsed in the microcosm of the mission field.
13) Having my heart broken all over again by kids of every shade of skin. May I never become hardened and calloused to the fact that we are all sinners saved by grace with a great deal of Kingdom work to accomplish, in Arizona, in Georgia, and around the world before we attain holiness.
**It has come to my attention that yesterday's post was somewhat upsetting. I entertained simply taking the post down, but I don't think that accomplishes anything for the Kingdom and would make Satan pretty happy. I would simply ask that readers remember that if I didn't love your children, I wouldn't bother to be upset, I'd simply walk away from ministry entirely. I get tired. I get frustrated. We all do. But we're all in this place together to do one thing: change the world. It's because I love deeply that I am bothered, and that I do pray and cry and laugh with and work alongside others. I also pray that those who are upset would speak with me about it as fellow believers should do if they intend to work together. I can only be what I am: broken, imperfect, flawed but madly seeking God's own heart.**
4.07.2010
Goodbye, Arizona
I knew things wouldn't go well as soon as I walked around the screen at the airport. On the other side of the x-ray screen was someone that I knew the group I was with would not understand or be able to cope with. Having kept them on the edge of their coping skills all week, I was certain that this would be beyond their skill set. Perhaps I should have expected more, but in hindsight, it's best that I didn't.
The next twenty minutes were probably the only time I will ever spend face to face with a man named Chris. Fortunately for me, those twenty minutes will change the shape of my prayer life forever, and Chris can expect to be remembered, at least by me, for a very long time. Chris isn't what a group of sheltered teens from small town Georgia expect to meet very often, or even ever (if they can find any way to avoid it). He obviously wanted to be something that he is not, his eyeliner, earrings, carefully highlighted blond hair in a ponytail and obvious surgically enhanced bust line attested to this. Over the short time that I supervised the team drop off their bags, he eagerly asked why our group was traveling together. "A mission trip," I explained, "to the Apache reservation and the Arizona Indian Christian Mission and School." He wanted to know what we did and why; I explained the work that goes into keeping the mission running, the hope that we would be able to support those who gave their life full time to this calling. I talked about the Reservation, and the hopelessness that so many Native Americans faced. I talked about the Blue Bus and how simple acts of kindness and love could change a person's life. We shared together our love for Arizona's mountains and weather, and he showered praise on our group that they would give up their spring break to do these things.
While we talked, I watched the people who came to drop off their bags, not only our team, but people from all the counters nearby. I watched their expressions: shock, disgust, carefully painted neutrality. One person offered a friendly smile but most simply tried to get away as quickly as possible. I remember thinking how lonely, how isolated, how outcast it must be to endure these looks hour after hour, night after night. At what point does a person cross the line from "part of humanity" to "barely worth my notice"? Wherever it is, Chris has clearly crossed it.
Eventually our team made it past check in and all the bags were dropped off. I thanked Chris for his help, and he thanked me for the chat.
It took roughly fifty steps to be out of ear shot. Fifty-two steps before they began to rip him, and my heart, apart.
Make no mistake, coming into day eight of a mission trip, with an all-nighter and 1,800 miles of travel ahead of you is about the limit of exhaustion that your body can process. Raw emotions lie very close to the surface and patience ceases to be a rational concept. At the gate there was a rant that began something like, "No he isn't a cute dark-eyed Native American child" and ended something like "Right now what I hear coming out of your mouth makes me sick!" And I cried pretty much the rest of the way home, solidly for an hour...off and on for the rest of the night and sporadically still since Saturday.
Cheri wrote this amazing post about a hammer (go read it, right now..it will take 2 minutes and the rest of this post will make way more sense if you do). I feel like Noah some days. And then there are the days when I feel like the ark would have felt if Noah had given into his frustration and pounded it into the ground and walked away. A hammer works both ways, it can build a boat to salvation, and it can destroy that boat four times as quickly and simply let everyone drown. Saturday night I wept for myself and my family as much as I wept for Chris, I admit it. I feel like a stranger in a strange land all over again, fighting battles we already fought and were winning, teaching things we already taught and that students were turning around and teaching. To start again seems almost insurmountable. To begin building again. In this new place, making an ark for lost people who are desperate for nothing and have no idea that destruction breathes close on their heels?
This is the part of the blog where I like to try to tie it up in a neat ending with a cool tagline to walk with. But I don't have one today. I only have a hammer, and a huge pile of gopher wood and a long way to go before I sleep.
The next twenty minutes were probably the only time I will ever spend face to face with a man named Chris. Fortunately for me, those twenty minutes will change the shape of my prayer life forever, and Chris can expect to be remembered, at least by me, for a very long time. Chris isn't what a group of sheltered teens from small town Georgia expect to meet very often, or even ever (if they can find any way to avoid it). He obviously wanted to be something that he is not, his eyeliner, earrings, carefully highlighted blond hair in a ponytail and obvious surgically enhanced bust line attested to this. Over the short time that I supervised the team drop off their bags, he eagerly asked why our group was traveling together. "A mission trip," I explained, "to the Apache reservation and the Arizona Indian Christian Mission and School." He wanted to know what we did and why; I explained the work that goes into keeping the mission running, the hope that we would be able to support those who gave their life full time to this calling. I talked about the Reservation, and the hopelessness that so many Native Americans faced. I talked about the Blue Bus and how simple acts of kindness and love could change a person's life. We shared together our love for Arizona's mountains and weather, and he showered praise on our group that they would give up their spring break to do these things.
While we talked, I watched the people who came to drop off their bags, not only our team, but people from all the counters nearby. I watched their expressions: shock, disgust, carefully painted neutrality. One person offered a friendly smile but most simply tried to get away as quickly as possible. I remember thinking how lonely, how isolated, how outcast it must be to endure these looks hour after hour, night after night. At what point does a person cross the line from "part of humanity" to "barely worth my notice"? Wherever it is, Chris has clearly crossed it.
Eventually our team made it past check in and all the bags were dropped off. I thanked Chris for his help, and he thanked me for the chat.
It took roughly fifty steps to be out of ear shot. Fifty-two steps before they began to rip him, and my heart, apart.
Make no mistake, coming into day eight of a mission trip, with an all-nighter and 1,800 miles of travel ahead of you is about the limit of exhaustion that your body can process. Raw emotions lie very close to the surface and patience ceases to be a rational concept. At the gate there was a rant that began something like, "No he isn't a cute dark-eyed Native American child" and ended something like "Right now what I hear coming out of your mouth makes me sick!" And I cried pretty much the rest of the way home, solidly for an hour...off and on for the rest of the night and sporadically still since Saturday.
Cheri wrote this amazing post about a hammer (go read it, right now..it will take 2 minutes and the rest of this post will make way more sense if you do). I feel like Noah some days. And then there are the days when I feel like the ark would have felt if Noah had given into his frustration and pounded it into the ground and walked away. A hammer works both ways, it can build a boat to salvation, and it can destroy that boat four times as quickly and simply let everyone drown. Saturday night I wept for myself and my family as much as I wept for Chris, I admit it. I feel like a stranger in a strange land all over again, fighting battles we already fought and were winning, teaching things we already taught and that students were turning around and teaching. To start again seems almost insurmountable. To begin building again. In this new place, making an ark for lost people who are desperate for nothing and have no idea that destruction breathes close on their heels?
This is the part of the blog where I like to try to tie it up in a neat ending with a cool tagline to walk with. But I don't have one today. I only have a hammer, and a huge pile of gopher wood and a long way to go before I sleep.
4.04.2010
Forty (seven) Days in the Word
To begin with, I never realized before this year that Lent is actually a forty-seven day period with each Sunday being a little mini-celebration, leading up to the big celebration of Resurrection Sunday. I like that idea. It makes me think a lot about Sabbath and about celebrations, but I digress.
At the beginning of Lent I determined to read the Old Testament over the Lenten Season. When I completed the Old Testament, I decided to try to complete reading the entire Bible over the forty-seven days. I won't be able to complete the entire Bible by midnight tonight, but I will finish it over the next 2-3 days, and I am very excited to have completed as much as I have already. I have determined that as soon as I finish I am going to turn around, start at the beginning again and work my way through. In the meantime, I wanted to share a few lessons I will walk away with from this season:
*There is no such thing as too much God's Word. The more I read, the more I want to read. Also, oddly enough, the more I read the more I understand about how little I understand. Each time my understanding deepens exponentially, God just gets more awesome.
* The Old Testament is freaking amazing. I loved it before; I love it more now than ever. What a testimony to the presence and persistence of God!
* There is no excuse for not knowing our Bible. If Jesus is the Word, than the obvious way to know Jesus (and thus to know God) is to read, dig, study and read more.
*Reading makes you responsible for incorporating what you learn into your life otherwise, you are simply reading down judgement on yourself.
*Studying scripture pisses people off.
* Knowing God's Word is infinitely useful in determining what are the lies of the world, and in refuting them with the light of Truth.
*Studying Scripture will break your heart, and it will make you desire to be more broken.
*We really need to understand study God's promises to Israel to understand the depth of His steadfastness.
*All God's promises are "Yes" and "Amen." The place to find those promises is in His Word.
I realize and understand that the way I have been reading Scripture lately doesn't appeal to some people. I do like to take information in in large chunks and then sort it out and assimilate it in between time. I believe that meditating and soaking in a chapter or a verse certainly has it's value as well. I simply know that for right now, God is pushing me, really pushing me to just wallow about in the wonder of the Bible as a whole. I don't understand it, I just obey it. Whatever it is preparation for will make itself apparent in due time.
In the meantime, God is changing me again, further. In some ways making me sharper, in other ways softer. Tears surprise me now in unexpected moments. My heart feels vulnerable. I have less patience with foolishness and hypocrisy. I feel a sense of urgency, a pushing, a maddening tickle in my soul that allows me Rest but not much rest.
My response to this is a challenge to memorize scripture and it's location (or what I like to call, it's address) over the days and weeks. I know a lot of what is contained in Scripture. I can even quote a good bit of scripture, but finding it's specific location is difficult for me (much like remembering names, more slippery in my mind than quicksilver those things are) . I am making my list and will begin in the morning. I am challenging myself to 150 verses in 100 days. I believe that's a doable amount for me because some of what I will be learning is half memorized already, refining takes less time than learning fresh.
At the beginning of Lent I determined to read the Old Testament over the Lenten Season. When I completed the Old Testament, I decided to try to complete reading the entire Bible over the forty-seven days. I won't be able to complete the entire Bible by midnight tonight, but I will finish it over the next 2-3 days, and I am very excited to have completed as much as I have already. I have determined that as soon as I finish I am going to turn around, start at the beginning again and work my way through. In the meantime, I wanted to share a few lessons I will walk away with from this season:
*There is no such thing as too much God's Word. The more I read, the more I want to read. Also, oddly enough, the more I read the more I understand about how little I understand. Each time my understanding deepens exponentially, God just gets more awesome.
* The Old Testament is freaking amazing. I loved it before; I love it more now than ever. What a testimony to the presence and persistence of God!
* There is no excuse for not knowing our Bible. If Jesus is the Word, than the obvious way to know Jesus (and thus to know God) is to read, dig, study and read more.
*Reading makes you responsible for incorporating what you learn into your life otherwise, you are simply reading down judgement on yourself.
*Studying scripture pisses people off.
* Knowing God's Word is infinitely useful in determining what are the lies of the world, and in refuting them with the light of Truth.
*Studying Scripture will break your heart, and it will make you desire to be more broken.
*We really need to understand study God's promises to Israel to understand the depth of His steadfastness.
*All God's promises are "Yes" and "Amen." The place to find those promises is in His Word.
I realize and understand that the way I have been reading Scripture lately doesn't appeal to some people. I do like to take information in in large chunks and then sort it out and assimilate it in between time. I believe that meditating and soaking in a chapter or a verse certainly has it's value as well. I simply know that for right now, God is pushing me, really pushing me to just wallow about in the wonder of the Bible as a whole. I don't understand it, I just obey it. Whatever it is preparation for will make itself apparent in due time.
In the meantime, God is changing me again, further. In some ways making me sharper, in other ways softer. Tears surprise me now in unexpected moments. My heart feels vulnerable. I have less patience with foolishness and hypocrisy. I feel a sense of urgency, a pushing, a maddening tickle in my soul that allows me Rest but not much rest.
My response to this is a challenge to memorize scripture and it's location (or what I like to call, it's address) over the days and weeks. I know a lot of what is contained in Scripture. I can even quote a good bit of scripture, but finding it's specific location is difficult for me (much like remembering names, more slippery in my mind than quicksilver those things are) . I am making my list and will begin in the morning. I am challenging myself to 150 verses in 100 days. I believe that's a doable amount for me because some of what I will be learning is half memorized already, refining takes less time than learning fresh.
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