"The gospel is absurd and the life of Jesus is meaningless unless we believe that He lived, died, and rose again with but one purpose in mind:
to make brand- new creation.
Not to make people with better morals but to create a community of prophets and professional lovers,
men and women who would surrender to the mystery of the fire of the Spirit that burns within,
who would live in ever greater fidelity to the omnipresent Word of God,
who would enter into the center of it all,
the very heart and mystery of Christ,
into the center of the flame that consumes, purifies, and sets everything aglow with peace, joy boldness, and extravagant, furious love.
This, my friend, is what it really means to be a Christian."
-Brennan Manning

I have been wondering about this, what it really means to be a Christian.
I have been embarrassed by how vocal my tribe of Christ-followers have been about certain issues and how silent we have been on others.
You would think we have forgotten, "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery. (Galatians 5:1)
The loud voices I hear are not shouting freedom, but slavery. 
I fear we are becoming slaves ourselves.
Again.

Isaiah said it so beautifully:
"You're the preacher of good news.
Raise your voice! Make it good and loud, Jerusalem.
You're the preacher of good news!
Speak loud and clear.  Don't be timid!
Tell the cities of Judah,
'Look! Your God!'
Look at Him!  God, the Master, comes in power, ready to go into action.
He is going to pay back His enemies and reward those who have loved Him.
Like a shepherd, He will care for His flock,
gathering lambs in His arms,
Hugging them as He carries them,
leading the nursing ewes to good pasture."
(Isaiah 40:9-11, MSG)

My mother-in-law, a crazy huge blessing in my life, gave me that last verse after I had my first child.  One version says, "He gently leads those who have young."
I clung to that verse the first year of motherhood because I had NO CLUE what I was doing.
Still don't, but I have learned to roll with it.
I loved that imagery of God, this great and mighty God who had gone to battle for His people, gathering them into His arms and leading them.
I still do.

I love that He carries justice and tenderness and His people.  People who have been forgiven and redeemed and who are proclaiming...?

Are we proclaiming love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness and self-control?  Our very lives should be declaring this!  My words, my steps, my responses, my dailies of life. This is the fruit of abiding with Jesus, the One this whole thing is about. My daughter read to me this morning about the very heavens declaring the glory of God-the skies displaying His handiwork. 

I don't do half as good a job as the heavens.

I'm caught up in my corner of the world.  Things like laundry and order and disciplining my kids and doing my hair and changing the sheets and getting to the grocery store and making dinner and...life.  It makes me complacent when it comes to what really matters and dulls me to the magic and the mystery of this "flame that consumes, purifies and sets everything aglow."

It dulls me to Christ in me and Christ in you and my eyes are blind and my heart is stone and my ears are deaf and I want more than anything to be alive. 
To hear and see and live and find my place by His side. 
To love you and see you and see your need and see Jesus in your need so I can love Him.
By loving you.
With "peace, joy, boldness, and extravagant, furious love."
I fail even within these walls of my home!
The needs brought to me throughout my day are just enough, thank you.
Endless band-aids, hugs, songs and words of comfort given.  Teeth brushed, meals made, fun had and at seven o'clock mama clocks out. 
Good luck if you need me after that!
Is that "extravagant, furious love"?
If you have ever met me, you probably know there is nothing "bold, extravagant or furious" about me.  Someone recently described me as "mousy"- that might be going to far (!!!), but you get the idea. 

So when presented with this possibility of being a woman who would "enter into the very center of it all"...I don't know.
Is that where freedom is? Do we have to step away from this swirling chaos or comfortable routin and step into JESUS
-His truth and purity and honesty; His simplicity -
to discover what "life abundant" is all about?
I think so.
It's what the disciples did.  
They left their nets where they dropped them. 
What do I need to drop to follow Him?
The only way for me to find Him is to seek Him. 
The only way for me to be an expression of His love to
this culture,
this space,
this moment
is to step into the very center of it all and beg to see His face.
And even if He only brushes against me, I will have lived.


Oh, God.
Meet me here. 
You made me with this set of strengths and weaknesses. 
You created this personality and set it in me with purpose. 
The desires, the struggles, the holy and the flesh-this is me. 
Your creation.
And you know me. 
You know what I was created for. 
You see me when I am fully alive and You see me weeping and wondering where the meaning is.
You hold me-
"like a shepherd, you will care for your flock,
gathering the lambs in your arms. Hugging and carrying and leading..."
How I love You.
And how I trust You.
You know my questions; my frustrations.
My hesitation to be linked with anything other than just YOU. 
You know my tendency to get lost in the mystery, the wonder, the beauty and the poetry
 and my reluctance to face the holy in the margins.
Forgive me for not seeing you.
Put a longing in me for justice, mercy and humbleness, then guide me. 
If I'm Your hands and feet and expression of love to this generation of people, show me what to do.
If I'm Your hands and feet and expression of love to this house full of people, show me what to do.
I want to do this well.
I want to hear you say, "Well done, little one."
I want to get to You with all my love spent,
all my hope given,
my hands open in generousity and
my heart full.
There is so much need.
And so many opinions.
And so much noise.
Quiet me with Your love. (Zeph. 3:17)
Then awaken me to You.
Daily.
 

Transition

This was one of those days.  One of those "SOMEBODY HELP ME, PLEASE!!!!!" kind of days.  Now, my girls were fine; a little whinier than usual, but fine.  And I'm fine; a little less patient than usual, but fine.  The combination...not so fine.  You see, we are in transition.  I can't decide if I like that word anymore because it has applied to me more times than it should and I'm done.  Done. With. Transition.  Only, I'm not.  Bah, humbug. 

We have just moved away from Spokane into a room at my dad's house.  My two girls and me.  I am sharing a bed with my four year old and she is being a champion about not flip-flopping the night away.  My 15 month old is being a rock star about hardly crying in the night and simply wants to crawl into the big bed at 5 in the morning to be with the big girls ( have I ever mentioned that I am NOT a morning person?  I am loving the extra snuggles, but am wishing they happened a little later in the morning...).  Scott is still in Spokane, wrapping up the remains of a business that held our plans and dreams and we are leaving it.  Along with friends and community and...haven't I been here before?  Like I said- transition.

We are moving to Seattle.  To a great town with lots to do and some amazing  family members that I am so looking forward to being friends with and it's transition!  And I'm not "drawing closer to Jesus" or "rejoicing in the coming character" (seriously, I have enough character) or even feeling very mature about things.  I was mad for a long time: mad at Scott, mad at his previous employer who is behaving badly, mad at situations and people and spiders and strangers who can't drive and the gutter that was falling off my house and moving quotes.  Mad.

Now, I'm a little numb.  Or emotional.  It depends on when you catch me.  But with God, well, we could say I'm not ready to talk to Him, yet.  Except for the one prayer that escapes like breath, "Be with me?"  It's the way I feel after a "discussion" with Scott.  When we go to bed and we're still a little angry, but mostly just cold with each other.  I crawl into bed and roll as far over to my side as possible (without being TOO obvious about it), but my foot sneaks over to be by him because he's warm and reassuring and I need to know that he's still with me.  Even if I'm not ready to talk about it or ready to hear what he has to say, I want to know that he is there.  And with me.  That's where I am with God.  Steady on the outside, panicking on the inside and desperate to know that He is here in the chaos and transition and unknown.  Still struggling to even out after great post-partum depression with my little one, still fighting the anxiety and panic and internal chaos and keep my littles in a place where they feel safe and whole and loved..."Be here with me?"  

He says, "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted on the earth." (Psalm 46:10)

He is God.  And my purpose in all this is to exalt Him;  my family's purpose in all this is to exalt Him.  We don't live to be comfortable and root down and nest, as much as that is what I think I want.  We live to exalt Him.  And while I may struggle with this and fight it and even want what I want most days...my hearts desire is for this: to exalt Him on this earth.  So, be here with me and help me remember that YOU are God.

The God who Wears My Tears

"You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book." (Psalm 56:8)

"Mommy, I'm crying," she says, looking up at me with blue eyes sparkling with tears.  I set her on my lap, rock her back and forth and whisper assurances into her ear.  After a few minutes she pulls back and looks at me.  "Here, Mommy," she says, tiny fingers wiping the tears from her cheeks and putting them on mine," you can have my tears."

We go back to playing:  Little People, painting, ring around the rosy, reading, taking Little Baby on many more adventures.  We are busy girls with things to do!  The tears dry on my face, but I don't forget they are there.  It's not until the end of the day that I have space to really consider what she said.  When I do, I am again humbled by this role given me in her little life.  I can have her tears?  I can wear her tears?

I'm certainly no stranger to tears-I cry during Hallmark commercials, for heaven's sake!  I've cried over things that matter and things that don't matter.  Always I have had a place to take my tears; someone I can say, "Here, You can have my tears."  Like Hagar in the desert  naming God because He has been so faithful and she didn't really expect Him to be, naming Him "The God who sees me", I name my God who has been so faithful and held me through the many seasons of life.  I name Him "the God who wears my tears".

"My parents are divorcing and my world is ending and I don't know how to live in THIS!"
     He holds my tears.
"I didn't think marriage could be so hard and how can you love someone and still be frustrated by them and what does this mean?!  Am I the worst wife ever??!"
     He holds my tears.
"Please don't ask me to move.  Please don't ask me to leave my home and my plans and my family and friends and this community of people I love...please don't ask it of me."
     He holds my tears.
"I have no idea how to be the mother of a two year old-none!  Am I the worst mother ever?!  Help!!!"
     He holds my tears.
" I don't know what You're doing- I trust You, but have no idea what You are doing and what part I'm supposed to play."
     He holds my tears.

He holds my tears; He wears my tears.  He has taken so much of me onto Himself-  my fears, pain, questions, anger and amazingly my sin.  He has taken it on because of love and that's what perfect love does.  He holds me in His arms, whispers assurances in my ear and takes my tears.  Then we get back to the business of life, because this IS life.  There are days when things are good and there are days when things are bad.  Hormones, circumstances, weather, finances...life happens and I'm not going to be happy all the time;  my daughter won't be happy all the time;  this little life kicking and stretching and growing inside me won't be happy all the time.  When these children are grown and find themselves crying and I'm not there to hold them and love on them, I want them to know they have a place to go; a place where they are loved no matter what;  a place where their tears matter.  They can go to the feet of a holy God- it's a place none of us have any right to be other than the fact that we've been invited and Someone has torn the veil by wearing our humanity- and He will take their tears, hold them and be faithful.  I want them to know the God who wears our tears.

Change

I’m writing from my bedroom this morning.  The snow is falling outside with such speed and determination that I know it will be piled there for days.  My bed is warm and my daughter is sleeping in, wonder of wonders, so I will stay snuggled in this fortress against the cold as long as possible.  My husband and I moved into this house only three months ago, but it’s amazing how quickly one’s bedroom becomes a sanctuary of sorts.  It is my place of rest, not only for my body, but my soul as well. 

My last bedroom was huge.  I painted it a soothing and reassuring blue and when baby came we had plenty of space for a bassinette, a rocking chair, a  space heater that looks like a fireplace and still have room to fit a small car if so desired.  We did not desire.  It was way more space than we could ever have needed.  We talked about knocking down the wall between the bedroom and master bath and expanding the bathroom to make room for the bathtub of my dreams.  We had major plans of renovation for those two rooms.  God, it seems, had major plans of renovation for us.

My new bedroom is small.  I love how small it is.  It’s cozy and close and sweet.  There is no space for a bassinette or a space heater, although I did fit the rocking chair in the corner and could die for how precious it looks sitting there.  The closet is old and the doors stick and there is only about half the space our old closet had, but I don’t mind.  In fact, I could go room by room and tell you how much smaller each one is compared to my last home.  The kitchen, the bathroom, the living areas…I am amazed we fit everything in.  We have gone from a three car garage with a storage shed to a one car garage, period.  I love it!  It’s a bright, cheerful home and so different from what we left.  I needed it to be different.  If God had moved me from one identical space to another, I would have been more miffed than I already was.  If we were changing course, than we needed to change.  Everything.

I am not a big fan of change, unless it is done on my terms.  I love to rearrange the furniture, re-organize the pantry, the closet, that drawer in the kitchen that catches all the odds and ends, but I need to be that one doing the re-arranging.  That way I know where everything is.  Everything has its place and I am thrilled to discover where that place is.  And when everything is in its place, my soul is at rest.  The air seems fresher, the colors brighter and I can sit and drink a cup of tea in complete peace.  I wish I was kidding, but this really does it for me. 

It all boils down to control.  I don’t want somebody else coming in and “discovering where everything has its place”;  that would throw the whole system off.  When I was pregnant, my sweet and helpful husband, in an attempt to make my world a little easier, would empty the dishwasher.  It was disastrous.  Mixing bowls ended up with casserole dishes, and muffin tins with cheese graters.  Nothing made any sense!  And God whispered to my spirit, “Let it happen.”  What?!  Sit back while my kitchen becomes nonsensical?!  God, You KNOW what order does for me!

 “Let it happen.  Let him love on you in this way, and let go of your control.  It’s a good exercise for bigger things.”

That was NOT what I wanted to hear.  But I yielded and tried not to wince when I found the regular drinking glasses with the juice glasses.  To be honest, I don’t know if that exercise helped at all when a few months later everything was thrown out of order;  out of MY order.  Everything felt way out of control and I did not like it.  I’m not an idiot.  I knew that God was in control and nothing happenstance was going on and this would not be the end of the world.  But in the same token, I wasn’t in control, everything seemed to be spinning, I was getting dizzy, AND it was the end of the world I had planned.

And again He whispered, “Let it happen.”

Isaiah 65:17-18a: “Behold, I will create new heavens and a new earth.  The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind.  But be glad and rejoice forever in what I will create…”

That’s the NIV.  Here’s the same verse and a half in the Message: “Pay close attention now:  I’m creating new heavens and a new earth.  All the earlier troubles, chaos, and pain are things of the past, to be forgotten.   

Look ahead with joy.  Anticipate what I’m creating.”

The God I serve is a creative God.  He makes something from nothing all the time and isn’t content to leave things the way they are.  He IS into change.  And when He steps in to change things, beauty happens.  Miracles happen.  New worlds and new creatures and new ways of thinking happen.  There may be a time of transition between the old and the new, but the new is worth anticipating.  We can look ahead with joy.  “The former things will not be remembered!”  The new things will be so amazing that we won’t need to dwell on what was.  He even promises that the trouble, chaos and pain that took us there will be eclipsed by how wonderful the newness is.

Knowing all this doesn’t make it easier.  It does give me hope and something to cling to, but I’m still in transition, mourning the loss of my friends, my plans, my home, my church.  You name it;  I miss it.  I don’t understand why a God all about change and newness- who Himself never changes- didn’t create us to be more open to it.  Most people I talk to aren’t wild about change.  So if God is always doing a “new thing”, why are we so resistant to it? 

I don’t know.  Maybe it has something to do with “no longer being conformed to the patterns of this world, but being transformed by the renewing of your mind.”  Maybe we have all convinced ourselves that we don’t like change, don’t need change, are fine “as – is” , and it’s a lie.  Makes sense.  It seems like we have all forgotten who we are;  who we were created to be.  If you listen to high school graduates, they are bent on discovering who they are.  The personality tests, the tests that determine your aptitude for a chosen profession, all these give us glimpses into the people God created us to be, but don’t answer the deep questions.  So maybe we crave change.  The way our bodies crave water.  We don’t think about it, we just need it.  Or maybe we have been lulled into complacency by years and years of wrong thinking.  Or maybe when Adam and Eve ate the fruit in an attempt “be like God” (Gen.  3:5) the struggle for control began.  I don’t know.  I do know that I want to anticipate with joy what God is going to do.  Today.  Tomorrow.  Next week and next year and in my daughter’s life and in my husband’s life and my life.  I want to wake up wondering, “What are you going to do today?  What changes are going to happen around me and in me?”  Looking for, anticipating what He’s going to do.  And when those changes occur, I want to meet them head on with thanksgiving.  If we really mean it when we pray, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done,” it’s going to mean a loss of control on our part.  It’s going to mean that things change.

And instead of fighting it…I think I’ll let it happen.

Dizzy.  And faint.  And thinking how much I really hate hospitals- especially emergency rooms.  I'm walking around the hospital trying to find my husband.  I was told he was here by one of his co-workers.  "Prepare yourself, soldier."  Those were his exact words to me when he left.  "Prepare yourself." 

I don't WANT to prepare myself.  Scott and I have both been convinced that things were starting to break for us;  that the sun was going to start shining on us soon;  that this series of "unfortunate events" was coming to a close.  Today does not support that belief.

But I prepare myself, anyway.  When Annie wakes up from her nap I go to the hospital.  There is no parking.  I park in a parking garage, but have no cash on me and it says, "No debit/credit cards accepted."  I'm going in and have no clue how I'm getting out.  My husband is in there, so come what may.

He is sitting on the bed, his head covered in caked blood looking woozy.  I feel my eyes widen and try to smile reassuringly.  That's when I get really dizzy and look for a chair.  Trying to appear nonchalant and ease gracefully into the chair without looking panicky I dump my coat and Annie's on the floor, next to the giant pile of blood-soaked rags.  This is not helping.  This can't really be happening.  Any minute I know I'll wake up and Scott will be next to me with no staples in his head and we will laugh over how crazy my dreams have been lately.  No such luck.

"I am the man who has seen affliction..." (Lamentations 3:1a)
"He has walled me in so I cannot escape;
He has weighed me down with chains. 
Even when I call out or cry for help, He shuts out my prayer.
He has barred my way with blocks of stone;
He has made my paths crooked." (vs. 7-9)

That is how I feel.  I know this must be how Scott feels.  Like shaking our fists at the heavens and shouting, "Are you kidding me with this???!!!  I trusted You!  What are you doing?"  This just doesn't fit in with what I've been reading in Jeremiah.

"I will lead them beside streams of water, on a level path they will not stumble." (31:9)

How does faith fit in when nothing makes sense?  Where do you put your faith when it seems like the tragedy of Job has fallen all around you?  I look back at the same chapter in Lamentations.

Verse 22-24:  "Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed for His compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;  great is Your faithfulness.
I say to myself, "The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait on Him."

So here I am waiting.  Praying for a level path and for this winter season in my spiritual life to come to an end.  I'm so ready for spring.

Too much fun

Just because thus bike looks like too much fun...:-)

It's November, and an amazingly beautiful one at that.  Today as I took my walk I was thrilled by all the colors of my surroundings:  bright, vivid reds; glorious oranges; cheerful and unstoppable golds.  Everything seemed to shout in full voice, "There is a God!"  Dare I admit that I stopped under a red tree and exclaimed that very thing?  Yes, I dare!

I love the fact that we set aside a whole month of the year to focus on thankfulness, but I read this in Daniel and it truly made me rethink Thanksgiving:
  Three times a day he (Daniel) got down on his knees and prayed,
giving thanks to his God,
just as he had done before."
(Daniel 6:10b)

Giving thanks was a habit- not a dull and boring habit- but a discipline.  A three-times-a-day discipline.  He started his day with thanks, interrupted the flow of his day with thanks and tied together the loose ends of the day with thanks.  A habit that forces one to focus on the good things that a good God has placed in our everyday moments.  Everyday moments...

Some days are beautiful, filled to the brim with joy and you can't stop the overflow of your heart from just bursting out of you with shouts of thanksgiving.  Some days are normal days, nothing extraordinary, just your basic day.  And other days...well, those days are hard.  And scary.  And sad and depressing and stressful and they try to steal your joy and your sanity and it's all you can do to just get dressed and out of bed and not snap at everything and everybody in sight.  I have been there and had more than my fair share of days like that. 

"I will sacrifice a thank offering to You 
and call on the name of the Lord." (Psalm 116:17)

A "sacrifice of a thank offering."  I love that visual.  It's so easy to get wrapped up in the drama of what is not right with my world.  Someone who is supposed to love me has hurt me deeply, and continues to do so with the absence of actions or words.  I focus on that until my heart is twisted in pain and my bones hurt and my mind goes over it again and again.  What can I give thanks for here?  "Thank You, Lord, for ALL the people who do love on me, who are consistently there and solid and do respond with love.  Thank You for the memories I have with this person and for the fact that I believe You can breathe life into lifeless things.  Thank You for being that kind of God.  For being a Father to the fatherless and the Restorer of wasted years.  For "rebuilding ancient ruins and restoring places long devastated." (Isaiah 61:4)  Thank You for the promise of a place where there will be no more pain, no more tears.  For being my Abba."

Thus the sacrifice.  To get the focus off myself and the "depths of despair" and the situation and shift that focus to my Solution, my only Hope.  Somehow just letting that praise fall from my lips makes Him seem bigger.  When my parents divorced I was...there are no words for what I was.  "Small" is the closest thing I can come up with.  Broken, hopeless, ruined, spinning, lost...these also come to mind.  My mom gave me a giant Rubbermaid tote filled with pictures of our family life together.  Their wedding pictures, my baby pictures- snapshots of a world I loved and depended on, gone with one decision.  I had no clue what to do with all those pictures.  Looking at them shredded me.  So they sat.  In that green Rubbermaid tote.  We moved it from one place to another to another until finally I felt the urge to open that tote and put those pictures into a scrapbook;  pretend it was somebody else's life.  It was fantastic therapy.  When I reached the end of putting that book together, I was able to see it as a celebration of what was.  Able to celebrate that I had a wonderful, loving home that was fun and solid and warm and my parents had loved me and we had played and laughed and cried and LIVED together.  What a blessing!  Putting that book together was not easy, but the payoff was truth- and the truth will always set you free from something.  A "sacrifice of thanksgiving" that led to a true confession of thanks.  And a bit of freedom in the process.  So here I go.  Leaping into this sixth month of motherhood determined to pass this habit, this discipline of thanksgiving three times a day to my daughter.  So that she will grow up focusing on "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent or praiseworthy." (Phillipians 4:8)  "Think about such things!!!"  Pay attention, O my soul!